#remember reading it for the first time and genuinely being so horrified

[mulloey]

unsullied

a late night google and a blurted question take you further than you’ve ever been before.

chan x 9th member!reader

part of my february festival

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warnings: virginity loss, sort of innocent reader, reader is described as small, soft but kind of mean dom!chan, like he’s being so tender and loving but he has a filthy mouth, sub!reader obviously, fingering, unprotected sex, breeding, pregnancy mention, younger members being annoying (not during smut). chan is kind of an old head (literally uses the word ‘deflowering’ like it’s 1884 or something) and he definitely has a virginity/corruption kink. he cums very fast i do apologise but you’re so tight can u blame him? etc etc and hate is blocked.

—

“Have you guys ever fucked someone?”

The moment the words leave your mouth a few things happen simultaneously—Chan, halfway through a Diet Coke, chokes on his drink, coughing violently to try and catch his breath; Changbin yells, a horrified, scandalised sound, but his reddened face is telling enough. Minho just stares at you like he can’t believe the words that have just come out of your mouth. Like he can’t believe those are words you’d even know.

Jisung, trying not to laugh, is the first to respond. “Are you high?”

“Huh?” You ask. “Why would I be high?”

“Because it’s a weird ass fucking question to ask randomly.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s just sudden,” Chan says, chiming in as he usually does when Jisung gets the look on his face that he has now. “And it’s not really appropriate. What’s brought it on, though?”

You shrug sheepishly, embarrassed at their extreme reactions and Chan’s curious but scrutinising stare. You didn’t think it would go like this. “Just wondering,” you mumble. “People talk.”

“Which people?” Minho asks. “Where?”

“People. Online.”

“They say we fuck?” Jisung snickers.

“Not each other,” you say quickly, feeling the need to clarify, and he snorts. You shoot him a glare which he playfully returns. “But I saw it a couple times. When I was trying to see what people say about us.”

“And what were they saying, exactly?” Chan asks. He sounds slightly amused too, but you can tell he’s worried about what exactly you’ve been exposed to. He’s not wrong to; you know all too well how weird people can get about idols, but you wish he’d ease up a bit sometimes. He doesn’t seem to realise that you’re not that same wide eyed kid that showed up all those years ago. You’re an adult, and you think about adult things just like he does.

You clear your throat, face burning. This was a bad idea. “They were talking about, like, what we like,” you mumble. “Or what they think we like. Sexually.”

“So what do I like?” Hyunjin asks. He seems genuinely curious but Minho smacks him all the same.

“Yeah, I wanna know too,” Seungmin grins.

“That’s enough.” Chan’s voice is stern and it forces the room into silence. His eyes are narrowed and fixed on you but his voice softens a little when he speaks again. “You shouldn’t read about that stuff, it’s not real. Just gonna confuse you.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before standing up and wandering off the kitchen, muttering about needing some coffee. Jisung waits for him to leave before reaching over to slap the back of your head. “Pervert,” he grins.

—

You’re settled into bed, cozied up in your blanket and clutching the reindeer plushie Felix bought you on your first Christmas in Korea, when there’s a soft knock at the door. You make a noise of acknowledgement and it eases open enough to allow Chan to shuffle in quietly.

“Ah, are you all ready for bed?” He asks. You pull your blankets down slightly to show him your fluffy pyjamas. His smile is fond as he perches down next to you.

“I wanted to talk to you about our conversation today,” he says. “Is that okay?”

You flush, remembering how uncomfortable he’d looked; the stern gaze he’d fixed firmly on you—it’s the same way he looks at you when you really are in trouble, and it makes you feel small and scolded and childish every time he uses it on you. “It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, Channie. I really was just wondering.”

His head tilts in confusion. “Why would you apologise for that? I always said you can tell me anything, didn’t I?”

You shrug, noncommittal. “You didn’t say I could ask you anything,” you mumble. “Or ask about… that.”

He just laughs. “Semantics, love. You can ask me whatever you like.” He squeezes your calf, rubbing it soothingly. He figured out a long time ago that touch—his touch, specifically—calms you down; soothes your perpetually anxious mind when nothing else can. He’s never asked about it and you’ve never discussed it; it’s just a silent understanding between the two of you. He looks at you almost apologetically. “I was just caught off guard earlier and I knew it wasn’t a good time with Jisung there to make it all into a stupid joke. It’s a serious thing, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

“If you have questions, I really do want you to ask me. But it’s better to do it in private, yeah?”

“Yeah. Well.” You trail off, hesitant and he says nothing; just waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts and string them into a sentence. “You never answered the question.”

“What question?”

“That question.”

“Ah.” He nods. “That question.”

You groan, nodding embarrassedly and he laughs again. “I have. Have you?”

“Come on,” you whine. “You’re just making fun of me now.”

He grins, caught; it’s a well-known secret among them that you tend to shy away from relationships, or really any contact with the opposite sex outside of them and work. And even if it wasn’t; the embarrassment with which you speak about these things, as if the words are foreign and uncomfortable on your tongue, says it all.

You cross your legs, staring at him curiously. “So you really have fucked someone.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Oh.”

“Is that something you’ve been thinking about?” His voice is soft but his gaze is dark and fixed on you. “Having sex?”

“I mean,” you mumble, shrugging slightly. “I’m old enough, aren’t I? Everyone else is doing it.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to,” he frowns. “It’s not something you should do just to fit in or anything. You do it because you want to, no other reason.”

“Oh. And… if I do want it?”

“Find someone you like and trust who wants to do it with you, talk about what it is you want, and let it happen naturally.”

“Right.”

There’s only one problem—there’s no one you like and trust who you’d actually want to do that with. All the men you’re decently close to are trainees or other idols who can’t afford to be seen slipping in and out of another dorm, and you’re not particularly attracted to them, anyway. You’ve never really been attracted to anyone.

Well. Almost.

Chan’s gaze is heavy on you and you can’t help but squirm uncomfortably beneath it; when he looks at you like that you feel exposed and seen on a level you’re not sure even you have access to. He affects you now just as much as he did the day you met him—when you’d shuffled into their practice room shaking and stuttering with nerves, certain they hated the idea of a new female member and resented you for being it; when he’d taken your hands in his and told you how happy they all were to have you here.

He’s been a guiding force for you since that day—a firm hand when you were out of control and a safe haven when everything was too much to bear; resolute in his determination to care for and nurture you and his assurance that he would never, ever allow you to face it all alone.

He’s the only person you could even picture yourself trusting with this. He’s the only person you want to trust.

You wonder if he knows he’s the only one you fantasise about; if he’s heard the way you squeaked his name in the small hours while you explored yourself with your fingers and tried not to wake the others. You wonder if he’s seen the way your eyes linger on his hands, his arms, the vein in his neck. If he’s seen the way you stare at him like he’s all you’ve ever wanted.

You let the words fall from you before you can change your mind and swallow them forever.

“What if… I wanted it to be you?”

The silence that descends is the longest and heaviest of your entire life. Every possibility, from him laughing at you to hitting you to kicking you out of the group entirely crosses your mind—what you didn’t anticipate is the way his eyes darken, jaw tensing the way it does when something is pulling at his strings and he’s trying desperately not to let them snap.

“You want it with me?” His voice is level and controlled as always but there’s another, deeper layer to it that you’ve never heard before. His fists curl into your soft sheets like he’s holding on for dear life and you can’t pull your gaze away from the way the veins in his forearms bulge under the pressure.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I… there’s no one else I trust like that.”

“Jesus.” He closes his eyes and you see his chest rise and fall with deep, staggered breaths. He’s… well, you don’t quite know what. But he’s not got up and left yet, which is a good sign. “You really want me to do that? You won’t… you can’t get your virginity back once it’s gone. You should save it for someone… someone that’s not me.”

“I don’t want to,” you say, half pleading by now. “Chan. I want you. I want you to do it. I want…I want you to be the first.”

His jaw tightens. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do.” You try to sound confident but your nerves are seeping into your voice from the pit in your stomach. “I swear.”

“I shouldn’t even be considering this,” he mutters. “What you’re asking me—to deflower you. To take your innocence from you. You shouldn’t give me that power.”

“Why not?”

He says nothing for a moment, like he’s looking for an escape and then you catch his gaze, your face hopeful and desperate and it’s like something clicks. His expression shifts into something understanding and… “Fucking hell,” he grunts. “How long have you wanted this?”

“A long time.”

“I’m a bad person,” he says quietly, disgustedly. “I’m a terrible person for even entertaining this.”

You’re not, you think. But that won’t convince him. You both know this is crossing a line. “I don’t care,” you whisper. “I don’t care at all.”

“Me neither.”

Before you can blink the blanket is pulled away and he’s hovering above you, face inches from yours. His breathing is heavy, laboured and you’ve never seen his eyes so focused or intense or… dark.

“Tell me you want this,” he says. “In words.”

“Chan,” you whine, squirming beneath him with increasing frustration. “Please.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Use your words, baby. I. Want. This. Sound it out.”

“I want this,” you repeat it with wide eyes, clinging to the words as they fall from your mouth. “I really want this, Chan. Take me. Please.”

And his lips are on yours; wet and desperate and messy and you kiss him with urgency as though his attention is in short supply. He cups your face in his hands as he nudges your legs apart with his knee and inches it further and further upwards. “You don’t know,” he gasps between kisses, “what you do to me. What your fucking, shit, what your words do to me.”

“Show me,” you whisper. “I can… I can take whatever you give me, Chan.”

He pauses for a moment, movements ceasing and the smile of his face is safe and threatening and warning all at once. He just chuckles. “Not tonight,” he whispers. “Tonight I‘m gonna be gentle. Gonna take such good care of you.”

Your stomach twists at the implication and the image it conjures of what Chan might be like at other times—rougher and harder than what you’ll see tonight; concealed for now but still simmering beneath the surface. Could you bring that out of him today? Do you want to?

“Chan.” You shift underneath him again, lifting your hips desperately and he grins, pushing them back down with one hand. “Easy,” he mumbles. “Easy, baby, I got you. You’re gonna get this dick, don’t you worry.”

“Now,” you groan. “Chan, now.”

Something flashes in his eyes but it’s gone before you can decipher it and he smiles pleasantly at you. “What do we say when we want something?” He asks.

“Please.”

“Good. I’m gonna take those panties off, yeah?”

You lie limp while he manoeuvres you, getting you ready for him; your panties slide off with your sleep shorts, places carefully by his side; his hands are warm and steady where they brush against your thighs and he makes a deep, strangled sound at the sight of your pussy. “Fuck,” he says. “You’re soaked.”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“All for me?” He smiles. “It is, isn’t it? Could only ever be for me.”

He pushes the first finger in slowly; gently and subtly so you scarcely notice the intrusion until he’s all the way in and pumping it in and out of you slowly. You squeak, thighs clamping together on instinct and he tuts, pushing them apart with his other hand. He slots his leg in the gap to keep them where he wants them. “Don’t run from me, pretty girl,” he grumbles. “Gotta be good f’me if you want this dick.”

“I wi—hngh—” The word dies in your throat when he pushes another finger inside and you cry out, throwing your head back against the pillow. He curses under his breath, eyes blazing.

“Forgot how fuckin’ sensitive virgins are,” he says. “Never been stretched like this before, have you?”

“N-no,” you gasp. “Of…of course not, Channie.”

He hums, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Good,” he grins. “That’s good. God, you’re gonna feel fucking fantastic around my cock.”

Just the mention of it has you mewling and reaching for him, for the sweatpants that hang from his hips and he laughs, nudging closer so you can finally feel his growing bulge. You gasp, mouth open and your eyes flicker between your hand and his face. “Oh.”

He tilts an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You…” You swallow, trying to clear the nerves gathering in your chest. “Are they usually… um. How does it fit? In there.”

His eyes soften briefly, and the look on his face is the same one of fondness and care you’d seen the very first time you met him. “It’ll fit, bunny,” he mumbles. “M’gonna make sure of it.”

You’re not sure if you believe him; you’ve never felt a dick before but you don’t think they’re usually as big as him. Just the thought is painful, and you wonder how you’re meant to handle it, how you could possibly take it without breaking—

Oh. You remember now. Your face is crimson when you call for him softly. “Channie?”

“Hm?”

“I— um. I have lube. In my drawer.”

He seems to go through a few different cycles of emotions at once before he settles on a cool, curious smile. If he wasn’t knuckle-deep in your pussy right now he’d be teasing you like he normally does. “Lube, huh?” He muses. “Why’d you buy that, honey?”

“I didn’t,” you say. “It was, um, my birthday—”

“Your birthday?”

“Yeah, um. They thought it would— that it would be funny. To give me that. Because I don’t… I’m not into that stuff. Or I wasn’t.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes. “They being Jisung and Seungmin, I’m going to hazard a guess”

“Yeah.” You giggle slightly and he chuckles too; it eases the tension slightly, reminds you of who you’re with and how little you have to fear in his hands. “And they, um. Jeongin got me something too.”

“Go on.”

You bite your lip, nearly chewing through it as you reach for your desk drawer and pull it open with shaking hands and you see the moment it registers with him exactly what’s lying there, still in the plastic wrapping—a dark red and obnoxiously large dildo. Probably bigger than Chan and definitely unused.

“Dickheads,” he mumbles. He grabs the lube that sits next to the unopened box and slams it shut almost petulantly. It makes you laugh again and he fixes a firm but mostly joking glare on you. “You keep encouraging them and I’ll fuck you with that dildo instead.”

Oh, no. No, you don’t want that. You want Chan. You mumble an apology and he chuckles, pumping his fingers in and out of you a few times before pulling them out. The snap of the bottle flicking open makes it jump and he bites back a smile.

He doesn’t waste time building tension before pulling his dick out, just yanks down his sweatpants and underwear and practically empties the bottle onto his dick. “Can’t have you hurting, baby,” he says. “You’re too pretty for that. Tight, too, I bet.”

His hands come down to rest on each of your plush thighs, holding you down as much as comforting you as he slowly pushes in. The stretch is still noticeable even with the lube but it’s not painful, and you take it all with a brave face. He’s cooing at you as he pushes further and further inside until he finally buries himself in you with a grunt. “Fuck, good girl,” he whispers. “Tighter than I dreamed of. Shit.”

He waits a moment, letting you adjust to him before he slowly starts to move; rocking back and forth and getting harder and firmer with each thrust. You whine and mewl and groan with his movements, unable to think of anything but him and all the different ways he could take you apart.

His composure breaks quicker than he’d have liked and soon he’s fucking into you desperately, like his hips are moving of their own accord and unable to stop. You cry out, sobbing his name but it feels so fucking good. So fucking perfect and you both know it.

His sweat is falling onto you, landing on your face and chest and his breathing is heavy and erratic; jaw clenched in focus and frustration. “You’re so fucking fragile, baby,” he grunts. “So little. I could break you.”

“Please,” you cry. “Chan, pl—”

“Next time,” he says. “We don’t have time now. You need to be bred.”

Your breath hitches, stomach twisting. “Bred?”

“Yeah, baby. Need to be knocked the fuck up, don’t you? Clench around me, c’mon, I got you.”

You do your best to obey, squeezing you walls as best as you can around his dick and it’s all it takes to push him over the edge, shouting and spluttering through his orgasm until he practically collapses on top of you. He removes himself quickly, not wanting to crush you. He rolls off of you to lie at your side but he makes no move to remove his dick, still sitting stuffed inside your hole while drops of cum leak out around it.

“Channie,” you mumble.

“You did so good, my baby.” He strokes your face, gentle and tender and you’ve never seen him look so content. “Fuck. Thank you for— for letting me do that. Letting me be your first. I’m so glad.”

“Will you do it again?” You ask softly. “Fuck me, I mean.”

He looks at you like you’ve asked something obvious but his gaze hardens as it flickers up and down your flushed, sweat-soaked body. “Of course I will,” he grins. “Every fucking day, princess. You’re mine now.”

—

skz taglist: @miyaluvvsyou @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @yabbadabbatuh @pixie0627 @ghstin91s @tangerineastronaut @lemonkait00 @aloevendetta @fancypeacepersona

[sugarcarnation]

we moved past yosanos backstory way too fast. what the hell was that

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N – I couldn’t stop thinking about this short King after episode 5 of Hazbin Hotel came out. This is mostly a fic for me, to get me back into writing. (WILL DO A MALE AND NONBINARY ONE SOON!)

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). She’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, she’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? She helps with everything here, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your maid!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

[sossolei]

different people in my hogwarts reality

DISCLAIMER: my experience with these people is probably not gonna be the same as your experience. if you don’t already know, this is a Hogwarts uni. this is really fucking long. ANTIS DNI !

HARRY POTTER — I had to start with the absolute icon himself. Before I shifted, I didn’t actually think much about Harry but he’s genuinely the funniest person I’ve met in this reality and that one. He’s sassy asfff and very much a sponge to the emotions of people around him. Every time he sassed me, I would give him an eyebrow raise and make a face and he legit started making the exact same face when I would sass him! He’s very handsome but he hasn’t really noticed, like girls will flirt with him during breaks or after his quidditch games and ( depending on what they say ) he’s lowkey weirded out. I think that’s why he likes Ginny cause she’s very straightforward from what I’ve seen and although she doesn’t have a crush on him at the moment, he wants her sooo bad it’s embarrassing.

His rivalry with Draco is deadass just a sass off. “Who can be sassier” is their game. When Harry is really beating Draco in their sass off, Draco brings up grades every single time. It’s his favorite thing to bring up because Harry usually just sucks his teeth and changes the topic lmaooo. He could really kill someone with his words and idk if it’s his inner James or going to public school in the UK but he plays dirty, trust and believe. Ironically enough, he doesn’t have many or any problems with Mattheo Riddle. I’ll get into it later but he was weary of him for a while after the chamber of secrets was opened ( which I was not there for ) but from my understand Harry just kinda keeps his distance from Mattheo and they don’t interact much.

Random spitfire of what I remember: his hands are BABY smooth, his glasses are flat from the side because he sat on them, he considered getting contacts but the thought of digging in his eyes genuinely makes him shiver and he doesn’t like talking about it or other people talking about it, he either doesn’t get embarrassed easily or he gets so horrified by such small things. Example: he wasn’t embarrassed about stepping in god knows what when he was walking through the grass cause “he can just change his shoes” but one time he was getting complimented so much after being sweaty from quidditch practice and he ate his dinner and RAN back to his room. He buys his clothes at least one size bigger “just in case.” He’s kinda short haha. He’s never gotten a cavity before but he wants a gold/silver tooth to “look cooler.” And he’s a real gossiper. He can hear everything people say and he’ll immediately run to Hermione and Ron like a kid in a candy store.

HERMIONE GRANGER — If this is a safe space…me and Hermione are not friends, I fear! I tried to be her friend after me and Harry got a little closer but she’s too judgmental for me personally. She’s not someone who gets things to naturally work out for her, she has to plant a garden if she wants flowers to bloom or she’ll be left with a dead garden. Only reason I know this is because of our divination class LMFAO, I read her astrology chart and those are the words I remember Treylawny saying and I think it describes her well in this reality. The best way I can explain this better is to use Harry as an example. He’s has a hard life but it’s like, if his house blows up, seeds will fall in the soil, the rain will fall during the night, and in the morning he’ll have a blossoming garden. That is not Hermione! Harry is lucky and unlucky at the same time but she’s someone who has to work for everything she wants.

I mentioned in my first post about Hogwarts that she has a curl routine, I don’t know what she uses because we’re not close but you can just tell she got a better routine and a curly cut. Her hair reaches her upper arms and has slight volume and little to no frizz ( rare for curly hair ifykyk ). She’s very pretty and even Draco said if she didn’t have a stick up her ass, he would try to date her and I can definitely see that happening but I already asked her and she shut me down so fast.

Me: “You and Draco are always going toe to toe on your exams. Maybe this can be a little academic rivals/enemies to lovers, you know?👀”

Hermione: “😐 My enemies will never be my lovers, and especially not Draco Malfoy of all people.”

Me: “✋😟🤚”

RON WEASLY — He has wavy/curly hair in this reality! Idk why actually, I didn’t script it in or anything but all the Weasleys have great hair! Fred and George have longer neck length wavy hair and Ginny’s hair is down to her waist, not as wavy as the boys but still gorgeous. I am known for having bad memory but Ron is known for having absolutely SHIT hearing! This mf can’t hear anythinggggg.

Me: “Yeah and then we went to the bathroom and saw a rat!”

Him: *gasp* “You went to the three broomsticks and saw Jack? That bloke from Ravenclaw?!”

Me: 😐

I’m convinced it’s because of the twins cause I feel like I need a goddamn microphone for him to hear me. During assembly’s or anything related to standing in the front of the great hall to speak, Ron always zones out because no matter who’s up there, he will come up with a new sentence. We’re not as close as me and Harry but since he’s usually with Harry, I don’t mind him tagging along and he likes me…I think. He asks me a lot of questions about America and Americans in general and the overall viewpoint in the UK is that America is a super mystery that everybody wants to visit. Veryyy stark difference from the way Brits in this reality view America. Before anyone asks, yes he could be popular with the ladies IF he wasn’t so up and down. Girls will show interest in him but if Hermione was nice to him that day, they’re getting rejected. If she was mean to him that day, he’ll talk to the girls for a while but then ultimately end up right back at Hermione’s side. Idk what their situation is but I know she has him on a LEASH and I love that for her!

DRACO MALFOY — The infamous reason people in 2020 started shifting to Hogwarts in the first place LMFAO. He’s not as bad as what I’ve heard from other peoples reality, but can I just say, I am not someone who has ever been a people pleaser i don’t give a damn if it took me two or three years to shift here, you’re not gonna talk to me crazy. Draco tried pushing me around ( verbally ) ONE time and I shut that shit down so incredibly fast, I knew I was meant to be a Slytherin. The sorting hat is actually much more accurate in this reality when it comes to putting people houses cause everyone’s a little bit older, but you can always ask to be in a house ofc, and the only “lackeys” Draco has in Slytherin, are people who asked to be in there. Trust and believe, no slytherin in their right mind is letting wannabe Viserys Targaryen use them as a stepping stool, puh-lease.

Draco doesn’t man spread. This is random but he literally will force people’s legs closed if he sees them man spreading cause he thinks it’s classless😭 His only friends are people that won’t let him push them around, he lovesss a challenge and being challenged in general and will take genuine offense to being given things easily ( this doesn’t apply to material items lmao ). I would say his personality is definitely more mature than the movies, he’s more reserved but not in a shy way. He makes fun of people behind their back but will still say it to their face if they confront him. Girls will usually pamper him and compliment him a lot and those are the girls he keeps around just for an ego boost, but someone like Astoria Greengras is his ideal woman. She’s the reason I found about the people that run around the castle for exercise because she does it! He told me he likes her because she’s like him if he’d chosen a different path ig you could say?

Their families are very similar but she chose to be kind and have that “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it at all” kind of attitude that he respects. She’s very disciplined and patient, not mention DROP DEAD gorgeous. His best friend ( even tho he says he doesn’t have one ) is definitely Mattheo and Blaise. To me, he’s pretty chill, he just quippy.

THEODORE NOTT — Ugh this man is gorgeous y’all. Facially, he’s Lorenzo Zurzulo, of course. I have/had the PHATTEST crush on him. He’s the definition of a nonchalant dread head, he’s very mellow but once he gets alcohol in his system he’s an entirely new person. Idk if this is a childhood trauma sort of thing or just the way he is but he has the mentality of “I’m not gonna speak unless I’m spoken to” or unless he has something to say. He finds Draco to be annoying sometimes but they’ve also known each other since they were literally like five so he’s definitely seen him through all his phases lmaoo. His face is LETHALLL let me tell you. He has the craziest peripheral vision of anyone I’ve ever met, like he already has 20/20 vision but he can see anything out of the corner of his eye, it’s freaky. Anytime someone says something crazy or he sees something weird, he’ll make such an expressive face and it’s the only time you’ll see him show lots of emotion. He reminds me of Harry in that sense.

Girls and guys love him but you already knew that LMFAO. He is actually Italian in this reality, just British-Italian and you can hear it in his accent. Draco and Blaise know Italian too. He only ever drinks water or alcohol?? Strange to me but whatever. He’s supperrrrrr tall I don’t know exactly but it definitely adds to his intimidating aura. RBF is his middle name. People don’t usually approach him romantically tho. Most professors like him but the ones that don’t usually don’t like his father. Mattheo told me they both vowed to never be death eaters because “getting another man’s face on your arm is too intimate.”😭 I say have/had a crush on him because he can be naturally flirty and sometimes it’s nice, and other times it’s not so I’m kind of up and down on that. Love him tho. He excels at most of his studies and he still hasn’t decided if he wants to choose his own career path or listen to what his father wants.

MATTHEO RIDDLE — MY LOVEEE AHHH. I know scripted him in but I didn’t expect to love him so much, he’s literally my best friend and the person I tell everything to! In this reality, his mother was a halfblood who had intimate relations with Voldemort and lied to him about her blood status so she could get closer to him. Clearly it worked! But Voldemort was furious when he found out and literally hunted her down until she went to Dumbledore for help and told him she was pregnant. He hid her away for a while but ( according to the story Mattheo was told ) something went wrong with the spell and death eaters knew where she was AND that she was pregnant AFTER Voldemort had already killed Harry’s parents. Because Voldemort was struck down, death eaters went looking for her in his place, Mattheo’s mother induced an early birth at a muggle hospital and gave Mattheo to her muggle grandmother with the help of Dumbledore again, before they ultimately found her and killed her. This is the condescend version of what I was told, believe me, me and Mattheo stayed up talking about this till the sun rose and I still have so many questions but so does he and I don’t wanna pry.

Onto his personality, he puts up this tough guy persona cause yk, he’s Voldemort’s son, but he’s pretty bubbly when he’s comfortable with people. He came into Hogwarts with an alias surname but his true name was revealed after the chamber of secrets so he doesn’t have many friends😭 I was told he used to be very popular amongst all the houses before that tho. He definitely doesn’t mind now but he is aware of everything so he tries his hardest to be kind…ish? The professors love him, they think he’s really funny and they can tell he’s constantly putting his best foot forward despite the obvious. McGonnagall actually switched her favoritism in this reality, she’s very protective and “motherly” towards Mattheo more so than Harry and sometimes when he has a free block, he’ll just sit and talk with her about whatever.

No he does not get into fights guys💀 He has threatened it for sure, but he would never actually put his hands on anyone. Again with the reputation thing, it’s not a bear he ever pokes lol. The farthest he takes it is just being loud about certain things. For example if someone walks by him and they stink, he will say out loud, “Oh my days, you’ve never washed your ass, have you?!” It embarrasses all of us but he’s just saying what everyone’s thinking. Me and Draco are his best friends but he’s lovessss Blaise, like he’s #1 Blaise fan and very proud about it. Blaise can’t do anything wrong in Mattheo’s eyes, Mattheo will ride or die for Blaise, even when I ask why he just smiles and is like “Idk man, I just love him.” Blaise thinks it’s funny but it’s been hell for him since I introduced them to gay humor, sorry king.

BLAISE ZABINI — THE MAN HIMSELF. Now if you guys thought anybody on this post compares to attractiveness and romantic attention with Blaise??? You thought wrong. Everyoneeeee loves Blaise, and I really mean that. He’s really close with Cedric Diggory and those face cards together are soooo lethal. He’s very encouraging and outgoing, he always wants to know what’s going on in the world whether it’s muggle or wizard related. He doesn’t have any prejudices towards any house or blood status and he just naturally exudes such calming energy. He’s a Taurus #twin. He doesn’t drink, ever. He’s never drank or done any drugs and is very strict about that. Sometimes he can be too blunt, especially when someone is asking for advice but I feel like he’s just real?? Draco will be like “ugh I haven’t had time to train this whole week” and Blaise will say smth like “why are you telling me when you know the solution yourself?” Motivation speaker, he is. I’ve never seen his mom but the boys say she’s foinnneeeeee ( not the word they used lmao ) and i wanna meet her so bad, like I just know she’s a baddie frfr.

PANSY PARKINSON — My wife y’all, everyone back tf up. She’s similar to Blaise in that she’s very blunt but she does know when to soften the blow, so to speak. Her aura is soooo alluring? Idek how to describe it but she’s extremely magnetic, not just visually, but also when it comes to getting things her way. If she hasn’t studied or done well on an exam, she’ll be like “It’s okay, I’m going to pass anyway/next time” AND IT ENDS UP HAPPENING! Top tier manifestor, idk what she does but I need it. Most fan fictions and stuff paint her out to be kind of boy crazy/Draco obsessed, but she’s a gorgeous girl and she knows she doesn’t need to do much of anything to attract male attention. The way she said it to me was “I’ve been getting male attention since I was 14, I don’t care for it at 19.” Her and Draco did date for a while when they were first years but they both said they never kissed during that time and when they finally did, it was so weird, they just decided to remain friends. There’s lots of rumors surrounding their breakup to this day, but neither of them care. Ugh shes so beautiful, I miss her.

OTHER PEOPLE SPITFIRE

Fred and George — Never spoke to them personally, they complimented my hair one time tho

My roommates — Me and Pansy share a dorm with these other two girls Penelope and Merida ( yes like the Disney movie😭 ) and they are so silly I love them! Merida is one of very few muggleborns in Slytherin, only because most muggleborns are scared away from the house by others but that girl is FEARLESS. She picks up insects with her hands, even rats sometimes, she doesn’t give a FUCK. Penelope is the clumsiest person I’ve ever met, sometimes she scares me cause she’s always covered in bruises but she says they don’t hurt so…sure!

Dumbledore — You guys remember in 2020 when some people said “this person knew I shifted here!” Dumbledore gives me that vibe sometimes, even though I know he doesn’t know. He just has this aura of “I know something you don’t” which is why most people find him off putting.

Marietta — Yo, fuck this bitch. I didn’t even know she was in the Harry Potter universe until I shifted back to my current reality and searched her up. FUCK her. Oh my god, she’s a Ravenclaw and she doesn’t fucking like me, and I don’t even know why and she had the audacity to rant to Mattheo about me while she was drunk talking all this shit, thinking he wouldn’t tell me??? Go straight to hell. I hate her to this DAY, I don’t care.

Neville — I could cry I love Neville. He has braces rn😭 and he looks so cute😭 I first talked to him cause I need help with Herbology and he’s soo patient, thank god. I accidentally revealed too much tho cause I asked him directly for help with Herbology ( obviously bc I already know he’s good at it ) and he was like “How do you know I’m good at Herbology?” I was gagged🧍‍♀️.

McCormic — last person cause this post is rlly long but he has a whole possey of dick riders, I swear. They all just walk around the halls or parties, waiting to find a girl to go bother. I only bring him up because I genuinely need to share this interaction.

Context: I’m sitting in the Great Hall a little before lunch when most people hadn’t arrived yet, just catching up on some reading for my next class.

Him: *sits down next to me* “Hey, you’re the um- American, right?”

Me: “I have a name”

Him: “Oh? What’s your name?”

Me: 😐😑😐 “I think you already know my name, McCormic, what do you want?”

Him: “I don’t want anything. Can’t a man just sit with a pretty girl once and a while?”

Me: “I don’t think the pretty girls boyfriend would appreciate it.”

Him: “Boyfriend? I don’t see a boyfriend anywhere.”

Me: *points behind him to an unsuspecting Theo walking towards the table*

He chuckles like this a fucking hallmark wattpad movie, stands up to size him up ig? and is IMMEDIATELY humbled because Theo is too tall for his own good. He looks at me, looks at Theo, sucks his teeth and walks away without another word.

Theo: “What’s his problem?”

Me: Who knows🤗

Anyways, #IhateMcCormic and his annoying ass friends, I hate that girl Marietta, everybody else is cool and my next post is gonna be about things I’ve implemented in my life that have helped me shift. BYEEE<33

[foggieststars]

Your carcar fic was one of the first fic I read in the carcar fandom and it changed my life 🙂‍↕️

Can I request ignored safeword + carcar? If you’re interested, would also love to see if it can be combined with 23. Possession. Thank you❣️

from the kink prompt asks here, tysm for your lovely words and such a fun prompt!!

-

They can’t have been going for longer than an hour, but time is slipping away from Carlos. He’s trussed up like a party favour, face-down on the bed, hands lashed to the headboard, tied together with the neat safety knots that Oscar favours. Carlos has made fun of him more than once for it, asking him if he’d yet earned his merit badge for knot-tying. He doesn’t feel like making fun of Oscar now. 

His hands are sore where the rope’s chafing against his wrists, and his ass is killing him. It’s not sexy anymore, not like it was at the start, when the sting of the paddle against his skin was something searing, something that made him feel loose and disconnected from his body. That time has passed, along with his second orgasm. 

Oscar stopped using the paddle after the first, swapped it for the skin-to-skin sting of his hand, and that was nice. But now, Carlos’ cock is starting to chafe against the bedsheets, dried come making him feel grimy and unwashed. The vibrating plug nestled right up against his prostate has tipped over from pleasurable to overwhelming. 

He can sense Oscar just behind him, hovering just out of range.

“Oscar,” Carlos croaks. “Oscar - can we stop?” 

There’s silence from behind him, no indication that Oscar’s heard him. Carlos doesn’t - when he gets like this, he doesn’t always have the best handle on how loud he’s being. More than once, Oscar’s had to shush him when he’s fucking him in Carlos’ driver’s room. 

He thought he’d been pretty loud. Carlos licks his lips, filmy with dried spit, tries again. “Oscar,” he says. “Oscar - please.” 

Carlos waits for Oscar to laugh, to give some indication that he’s just joking around. That he’s going to untie Carlos’ hands, massage them with the moisturising cream Oscar bought specifically for the occasion. There’s nothing; just the sound of Oscar’s quiet breathing. And then, the gentle sound of a button being pressed. If the room wasn’t so quiet, Carlos wouldn’t have heard it. But it is, and he did - and more than that, he can feel it. The vibrations of the plug ratchet up a notch, and his back draws tight like a bow. Carlos tries not to thrash, but the feeling is so overwhelming - a cold sort of pleasure, a sweat breaking on his brow. 

He feels like a broken record. “Oscar - I want… red. Red, please - I can’t anymore.”

Oscar does laugh then, at the sound of their safeword. Sweat’s dripping from Carlos’ forehead now. The pleasure is so overwhelming like this, focused on that tight bundle of nerves. Nothing he can grasp at with his hands to channel some of the energy, no way to work out the pain. 

And then - “You asked for this, remember?” Oscar says. Carlos’ stomach gives a painful lurch at the realisation that Oscar’s genuinely not moving, that saying red hasn’t done anything, and then it’s a sickening freefall into oblivion. 

Carlos does remember, is the worst part. After two glasses of wine last week with dinner, curled up on the sofa, enjoying a rare moment of private time. He’d said - he’d asked Oscar to do this. To ignore it when Carlos begged him to stop. Ignore it, even if Carlos uses his safeword. Oscar had been concerned by the idea. Carlos had pushed. It’s his fault. 

It’s Carlos’ fault that this is happening to him.  

It’s a strange feeling, the sensation of pure, unadulterated panic. It’s not something Carlos is accustomed to feeling with Oscar. To know that there’s genuinely no way out - nothing he can say to get Oscar to stop doing this to him. It’s electrifying and horrifying in equal measure. 

“Oscar–” Carlos croaks, hissing when the vibrations increase again. He can feel his legs moving on the bed, but there’s no control behind it, nothing he can do to stop it. “I - Oscar, I can’t – can’t anymore,” he says - begs, really. “I’m sorry,” he finishes weakly, hating the feeling that he’s letting Oscar down, denying him what he wants. But Carlos really doesn’t think it’s possible for Oscar to wring another orgasm out of him - he’s so sore. Probably doesn’t help that the two of them have been fucking like rabbits basically since the season ended, no concern for sore muscles or tight backs when they don’t have to be in the car again for months. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Oscar says, voice steady. “Be better.” 

Those works sink into Carlos slowly, the steady drip of their impact muted, like he’s underwater. How many times has he heard those words - from his coaches, from his father? And now. From Oscar.

“Because you can be,” Oscar continues. “You’ll give me another one, right?” 

Oscar’s doing what Carlos asked him to do. He’s ignoring the safeword. Pushing Carlos past his self-imposed limits. Carlos scrunches his eyes closed, takes a steadying breath, ignoring the feeling of blood pounding in his head. 

Oscar moves closer, thighs bracketing Carlos’ own. He can hear the material of Oscar’s shorts rustle as he moves. “You’ve been so good for me,” he practically croons. He’s certainly improved at the whole dirty talk thing. Especially compared with the start of the season, when he could barely say the word cock without blushing. “So good, and all mine, Carlos.” 

Mine. The word reverberates around Carlos’ mind, driving him to distraction. 

Oscar’s hands smooth over the sore skin of Carlos’ ass, the skin hot to the touch. His hands are blessedly cool. And then, like the shock of touching a livewire, Oscar’s fingers find the base of the plug. He twists it in a cruel motion, bearing down on the base of it. The pressure is unrelenting, almost unbearable. 

“You can do it, right?” Oscar asks. “Just one more. One more and I’ll untie you.” 

Carlos opens his eyes, stares at the crumpled bedsheets in front of him, and lets the word no die on his tongue. 

He lets his head hang between his shoulders, no longer trying to crane around to look Oscar in the eyes. He dips his head once, a slow, purposeful motion, to communicate to Oscar what he’s asking. What he’s agreeing to. He can’t say it out loud - can’t be party to his own unmaking in such an intimate way. This will have to be enough. 

It seems it is, for Oscar at least. He moves closer, and his hands roam the bare planes of Carlos’ skin. His ass, his lower back. Oscar presses his thumbs into the dimples of Carlos’ spine, hitches his hips higher in the air. It helps take some of the pressure off his shoulders, and like an idiot - like some unthinking, drooling whore - Carlos can’t help but arch into it. 

His cock’s half-hard, probably the most it can manage after two orgasms already, leaking steadily like a tap. Carlos cries out when Oscar wraps his hand around it, thumbing over the stickiness, spreading it around the length of him. Even that stimulation is too much, and he bucks backwards, trying to escape it, only to find Oscar’s crotch pressed against his ass. 

Carlos can feel his cock, hard and wanting. Oscar grunts slightly, no doubt as a result of the vibrations from the plug pressed up against his dick. With his free hand, he bumps the vibrations up another couple of notches, until Carlos really can’t handle it anymore. He thrashes violently against the restraints, anything to escape, anything to get away from the steady creep of pleasure-pain that threatens to overwhelm all his senses. 

He screams when Oscar reaches for the plug again, twists it cruelly, hand still stroking his cock gently, steadily. It’s a crude facsimile of fucking, Carlos realises. Between Oscar’s hand on his dick and on the plug, Carlos is rocking back and forth between the stimulation. He keeps bumping against the hard planes of Oscar’s body. 

It’s not a choice, not really. It’s the illusion of one, whether to buck into Oscar’s hand or to let him force the plug against that bundle of nerves. It’s a flagrant attempt at undoing, at complete surrender. 

Whatever it is, it’s working. 

Carlos can feel it approaching, drawing up from deep within him. He’s never - not since he was a horny teenager has he been able to come in such quick succession. 

That’s what initially drew him to Oscar. His sense of responsibility, his work ethic. Carlos recognised something within him, something similar enough to make him reach out, even though he couldn’t stand the guy on track. And look at where it’s gotten him. 

Carlos can feel himself quivering. He grasps the headboard as best he can with his hands tied, something to hold onto. To ground him. 

Oscar leans forward, covering Carlos’ back with his chest. Skin on skin, sweaty and sticking. 

“C’mon,” Oscar pants, breathless himself now. “Just one more. For me.” 

Carlos cries out at a particularly vicious thrust of the plug, Oscar’s hand tightening around his cock. It’s coming, and it hurts, it’s too much too much too much –

Carlos comes with a yell, still only half-hard. There’s barely a dribble of come, his cock spent and sore. His vision goes fuzzy, or he nearly passes out, he’s not sure. All he can feel is the overwhelming pain-pleasure. It aches, like sinking your fingers into a bruise. There’s enough pleasure to drown out the sharpest edges of it, but only just. 

There’s a sickening moment, where Oscar’s hand remains on his cock, heel of his other palm pressed to the plug, still vibrating. Oscar could - if he wanted to. He could do anything. Carlos asked him to. 

Thankfully, he decides Carlos has had enough. The plug stops vibrating, but Oscar doesn’t take it out. He does take his hand off Carlos’ cock though, for which Carlos is grateful. 

Oscar undoes the ties with a deft movement, and Carlos definitely won’t be making fun of him for tying quick-release knots anytime soon. He pitches face-first onto the bed, arms too weak to hold him up. 

Oscar snickers behind him, and then there are hands, cool and callused on his sides, rolling him onto his back. Finally, Carlos can look at Oscar’s face. He’s flushed pink with exertion, spreading down to his chest. 

Oscar presses in close, kneeling over Carlos’ thighs. “That was so good,” he says, and despite it all Carlos feels the familiar hum of pleasure rush through him. A job well-done. “Fucking unbelievable,” Oscar says. “Fuck.” 

Carlos hums, suddenly bone-tired. He wants to smile, reach out for Oscar, but his body won’t do what he’s telling it to. 

Oscar seems to realise that. He cradles Carlos’ face in between his hands, presses a searing kiss to his mouth. 

It’s long, heated and slow, and ends with a healthy dose of tongue. It’s - Oscar’s licking him, Carlos thinks absurdly, and then realises. He’s licking the tears from Carlos’ face. Tears, because Carlos has started crying. When, he’s not sure. It should frighten him, to feel this disconnected from his own body. 

It doesn’t though. Not when Oscar’s holding him like this. 

They kiss for a long time, long enough for Carlos to again grow aware of how desperately he needs a shower. He’s sticky with dried come and sweat, and he feels disgusting. He wants a bath - maybe with those special bath oils Oscar’s trainer likes him to use. 

He also grows aware of another pressing matter - hard, throbbing, and right up against his hip. 

Carlos doesn’t have the energy to move his head, gestures weakly to Oscar’s crotch. “I could - with my mouth?” He offers weakly, still massaging feeling back into his wrists. 

Oscar frowns at him, tilts his head. “Why would I want your mouth?” he asks. Carlos doesn’t understand. Not until he continues – “When you’ve got a perfectly good hole right here.”

He’s tracing around the edge of Carlos’ rim, stretched around the base of the plug. Carlos shudders, shoulders going tight. Oscar pulls it out in one slow movement, lingering at the widest part of it, stretching him out even more. Until suddenly, blissfully, it’s out, and tossed onto the bedsheets. 

“Spent all that time getting you ready for me,” Oscar shrugs. “Be a waste not to put it to good use.” He punctuates the statement with his fingers, two of them, stuffed unceremoniously inside Carlos. 

Carlos makes a noise so high-pitched he’d thought himself incapable of it. He’s loose from the plug, and it’s - he can’t tighten up, not even around two of Oscar’s fingers. He can feel his hole clenching desperately.

“Yeah,” Oscar laughs. “You want it.” 

Carlos shakes his head, doesn’t know how he could possibly muster up the energy to let Oscar - after three.  

“No?” Oscar probes, with his voice and his fingers. He locates Carlos’ prostate with ease - he’s spent all afternoon torturing it, after all - and bears down with his fingers. 

Carlos’ cock twitches, weakly against his thigh. Oscar laughs at the sight of it, and Carlos barely resists the urge to cover himself with his hands. He’s not - before Oscar. He’s not used to this, he’s never… he’s always been the one in charge. He’d thought that would continue with Oscar. Hadn’t expected to be shown another way, 

“Seems like you do,” Oscar comments, like he’s discussing the weather. 

That’s not fair, Carlos wants to tell him. It’s just a bodily reaction - nothing he can help. 

“I’m tired,” Carlos tries, knowing there’s no way out. No escape. 

Hating, more than anything, that he likes that. 

Oscar smiles at him. It’s nothing different to his usual smile - goofy, wide, kind. Front teeth hooking on the skin of his bottom lip. But the words he’s saying are a stark contrast to his expression. “You just lie there - let me take care of you. And this hungry little hole.”

Carlos could move, now he’s been untied. He might be shorter than him, but he’s stronger than Oscar. And his exhausted muscles aren’t that much of a challenge - not really. He’s clambered into the car feeling worse than this, hurled himself around corners going hundreds of miles per hour. He could get up, wrestle Oscar into submission. If he wanted to. 

He doesn’t move.

And it’s that inaction which damns him. 

Oscar’s quick about it, fumbling for the lube, lost in the bedsheets when he’d first opened Carlos up on his fingers, eased the plug into him until Carlos was babbling. He slicks up his cock with efficient movements, spreads Carlos’ thighs wide with his hands. 

They end up hooked around Oscar’s hips. Like this, Carlos is terribly exposed. He can feel his hole clenching in desperation, his body betraying him. He’s spent and exhausted, but he still wants. 

That’s always been his problem. He’s always wanted too much, the weight of his desire threatening to swallow him up. It usually winds up in disappointment. He’d thought, signing with Ferrari - that might - but no. They hadn’t wanted him either, in the end. The depth of his desire too much for anyone to handle. 

Maybe apart from Oscar. 

His hole flutters when Oscar presses the spongy head of his dick to it, and Oscar laughs, watching the point of connection between their bodies. “Look at that,” he comments, and Carlos feels his cheeks burn. 

Oscar moans as he slides into Carlos, and the feeling is mutual. His cock isn’t as thick as the plug, but it’s longer, penetrating deeper into Carlos. His hole is sore with overstimulation, but it still feels good. Good in a way it hasn’t with anyone else for a long time - in a way only Oscar can bring out of him, these days.

Oscar doesn’t waste any time, rutting into him with abandon. He pulls out as far as he can without sliding out completely, slams home with a muffled grunt. 

“So good for me,” Oscar says, voice tight and strained. “Carlos, fuck,” he groans. “So tight. All for me, yeah?” 

Carlos nods, licks his cracked lips. “Yours,” he agrees, squeezing his tired legs around Oscar’s hips. 

Another surprising thing about Oscar. He’s sort of possessive. Hand on the back of Carlos’ neck, brushing against his waist when they cross paths in the paddock. Like a claiming, a reminder. Of who he belongs to. 

“Knew you could take it,” Oscar rasps. “Never enough for you, is it? Always - fuck, always want more.”

Carlos’ face burns at the truth in Oscar’s words, and he nods, looking down and away. Well, trying to at least, because Oscar’s hand on his chin stops him before he can. Hips still pistoning, Oscar yanks Carlos back to face him. Until he has no choice but to meet Oscar’s gaze. 

“Don’t you?” Oscar demands. 

Carlos really might fall to pieces, soon. 

“Yes,” he gasps, at a particularly vicious thrust. “Yes, I want - Oscar.” 

That seems to be answer enough for Oscar, who buries his face in the joint between Carlos’ shoulder and his neck. Licking and sucking at the sweaty skin there, leaving marks they can only get away with for a brief window of time. 

It feels good, like this. His cock is lying limp against his stomach, no chance of hardening again. Carlos doesn’t think he could come again even if Oscar fucked him for hours - like he’s passed some invisible threshold. But it’s nice, like this. It’s a gentle, warming sort of pleasure, one that fills him up from the inside. 

He’s still crying, Carlos notes with some surprise. It’s not bad though, not like this, with Oscar pressed up inside of him, covering him with his body. The surrendering of control, the thing Carlos has always hated, feared the most. It’s not as bad as he’d thought it would be. 

Oscar’s thrusts turn jerky and uncoordinated, his groaning louder. He’d not touched his cock once, during the time Carlos spent tied up. He must be pretty close, need it badly. 

Carlos tilts his hips up, squeezes around Oscar’s cock as best he can. Oscar’s breathing and the sound of the bed creaking under their combined weights are the only sounds, aside from the blood rushing in his ears. 

“Oscar,” Carlos says. He threads his heavy, uncooperative arms around Oscar’s neck, cards through the hair starting to curl with sweat. “I want it - please.” 

It’s as close to begging as he’s yet come. Not in words perhaps, but in meaning. He wants to feel Oscar finish inside him, wants to feel that stamp of ownership he can’t even truly admit to himself that he craves. 

“You want it?” Oscar asks, breathing raggedly. “I know you do. Come on,” he says, hands finding Carlos’ hips, thrusting harder, harder. 

“Fuck,” Oscar pants. “So good, so - Carlos,” he nearly growls out the name. “Can’t believe you,” Oscar says. “Fucking insane, the things you let me - oh, fuck,” Oscar says, and then his hips are stuttering once, twice, and he’s spilling, hot and sticky inside of Carlos. 

It should be disgusting. It is, a bit. 

It’s nice, all the same. 

Oscar keeps fucking into him, until his cock softens enough to slip out. It’s only then, after an indeterminable length of time, that Oscar finally collapses next to him on the bed. He’s breathing hard, like he’s just finished a race, but he looks quietly satisfied. There’s a glow off him. Carlos thinks he might look similarly, from the smile Oscar gives him when their eyes meet. 

“What do you say?” Oscar asks, quiet voice somehow loud in the silent room. 

There’s a halting pause, where Carlos thinks it over. He’d asked Oscar for this. To wrest control from his grasp, push him beyond his self-imposed boundaries. To say - to lay himself bare for Oscar like that… 

There’s no coming back from that. 

Oscar watches him with a quiet smile, like he can read every thought thrumming through Carlos’ overtired mind. Carlos wonders if he knows before Carlos himself does when he makes the decision. When he opens his mouth. 

“Thank you,” Carlos says, and somehow, agonisingly, finds that he means it. 

[hellish-acts]

Seraphs hcs!!

Family dynamics

-Lucifer is definetly the oldest siblings and kind of a parental firgure, Michael and Raphael are twins with Michael being the older one by 3 seconds/hj. And Gabriel is very obvious, he's the youngest.

-Each of them has a field they specializes at. (Lucifer specializes in medical, Michael in astronomy, Raphael in plants and Gabriel in history)

-Michael and Gabriel spent a lot of time together, sure they may deny it because most of the time, they bicker and fight, but they remember each other's interest, favorite food, what they are picky in or hate, etc...(Sighs, siblings rivalry)

-Lucifer doesn't need a coat like other because he probably don't feel cold or unable to feel the temperature like others because God created him first so he may have some too op stuff ERLP. While the 3 others has to huddle from warmth whenever it's too cold on the winter night. Sometimes Lucifer just stares at them in confusion because he doesn't feel cold while they do.

-All the Seraphs(also Lucifer too) with their soon-to-be partners(ocs) relationships are like a fucking rom-com HAHA.

-Michael definetly got some burns when using his light beams(he sometimes uses it as an excuse to see Lucifer)

-All the Seraphs are transmasc fight me chat(Not Lucifer cuz he's not one anymore!)

-Gabriel likes strawberries or any berries in general(he doesn't told anyone about it.)

-Between the twins, Michael is definetly abit more immature than Raphael, sure he is mature at some points but Gabriel keeps ticking him off to the point he acts immature LMAO

-Michael is also kind of dependable on Lucifer so he started to feel confused after Lucifer fell because Lucifer wasn't there to guide or protect him like he used to. While Raphael matured and grew independent in his own ways, he does relies on Lucifer at times but figured it's better if he deals with problems on his own. And Gabriel tries to act mature so he could catch up to the others, he used to copy Lucifer but after he fell, Gabriel sees Lucifer as a traitor to God to he stopped.

-Sinners, they all have the same covered eye placement(PLEASE THEY'RE SO FAMILY CORE STOPPP)

-Gabriel sometimes hates his eyes and feel insecure because of 'em, but he kept them because it's a gift god gave him. Even though still, he finds them inconvenient when he wants smth but doesnt wanna say and the other side cant tell cuz of how emotionless it looks(ahem, Noveil..)

-All the angels have great memories, with what they are specialized in, the knowledge is HUGE and they need to have good memories for it.

-Raphael doesn't know how to act if his partner kisses him with genuine love, he's just very familiar with the rough kisses or makeouts that it makes him pauses and reacts slowly when they kiss him genuinely. His partner thought they did something wrong because he didn't react HAHA

-Mich quite meticulous/detailed-oriented. He doesn’t want to miss anything or to afford a mistake, this trait has been heightened by his paranoia

-Mich also puts a lot of thought into gift-giving. So the gifts he gives will have to fit into a certain criteria of how beneficial is this gift, how much the person needs it, how much the person wants it

-Mich sometimes makes dad jokes, he unfortunately learnt it from Lucifer..

-Raphael has some roots on his hair, sometimes it turns into flowers, sometimes it morphs into thorns, depends on his moods.(his love language is also flowers)

-They all have lashes the same colors as their hair.

-Gabriel is secretly dyslexic, he just don't wanna admit it.

-Lucifer has the most horrifying handwriting(HES A DOCTOR AFTERALL), Michael copies him and now almost no one can read his handwriting(except Raphael somestimes)

-Michael has difficulty with relaxing, he at some point has intrusive thoughts and hypervigilance.

-Raphael is a bit sensitive to sounds, too much loud noises makes him gets irritated and lashes out, so he mainly has headphones with white noises on.

-Michael is way too sensitive to light, too much light gets him overwhelmed.

-Gabriel doesn't like spaces that are like way too cluttered/hoarder-looking ish. Tidy spaces gives Gabriel more sense of control and he likes it, so clutteredness makes him feel like he lost all control.

That's all for now sinners!! May or may not have a part 2 because damn THEY ROT ME.

[bikananjarrus]

i have a few thoughts about how the lost hero actually sets up the darker tone for HoO really well and then. well. there was never any follow through.

now some of my hindsight about TLH is probably fueled by nostalgia (i actually am really fond of tlh and also i was 14 when i read. impressionable on my teen brain). i’ve reread it several times, but i have really strong memories of the first time i read the book too, and i just remember it having a very gloomy, dark vibe to it. (the way that TTC is set in winter and definitely feels like a winter book, this is the HoO equivalent for me.)

looking at the actual contents of the book, the book starting off with jason's pov, who has no idea who he is, so immediately the feeling is 'oh shit. something happened to this guy. and it's not good.' and then almost immediately after that, getting sucker punched with the “she's been looking for one of our campers, who’s been missing three days…her boyfriend. A guy named percy jackson.” percy??? thee percy jackson. MISSING???? (look, that put 14 year old me flat on the floor. it still hits. but in 2010 when we had no idea percy was going to even be in these books….you kinda just had to be there okay.)

alongside jason, we have piper, whose dad got kidnapped by a giant and she'd being blackmailed! all before she finds out she's a demigod!! like she's already having a ROUGH time. we find out leo was manipulated by gaea to use his flame powers, which resulted in the fire that killed his mom (genuinely wtf).

their quest starting the lead up to the second great prophecy, which is happening so soon after percy's great prophecy (like they JUST finished fighting a war. give them a chance to breathe dammit. but also implying that some major things stirred with the defeat of kronos. But how could there be something more horrifying than kronos?).

their quest taking them to all these abandoned and/or cold places (the run down wolf house, they're hiding in the sewers at one point, the cyclops lair in that abandoned warehouse, the cave where they shelter from the cold and where the hunters of artemis find them, boreas’s house being in canada, even the mall where they meet medea being empty iirc). jason being abandoned by his mother. piper feeling abandoned by a father who doesn't have enough time for her. leo being alone too (not his mom's fault she died; not his fault for the fire; but he's alone nonetheless). even their primary mode of transportation being flying on festus feels strange and out of the place, bc for so long, we were seeing through percy's eyes and he had to stay on the ground.

and then to end the book with jason dying, however briefly. literally a dead man walking from the very beginning.

the tone was something different and darker, and combined with percy, hazel, and frank going to alaska, the land beyond the gods, in SoN, we were really venturing into unknown territory. it felt like our heroes would be tested. that gaea truly was something to be feared, even more so than kronos, and that it would take the generation's seven greatest demigods to defeat her.

and then it never followed through with that set up.

[cosmicjoke]

Okay, chapter 57 of Saezuru!

So, we're at an impasse again.

I don't want to see anyone shitting on Yashiro here, though I know inevitably there's going to be people doing that, and probably people shitting on Doumeki, too. I think what people need to constantly remind themselves of while reading this story is that, at it's heart, it's a story about trauma, and the difficulty, sometimes near impossibility, of ever fully overcoming that trauma.

I know some people are going to talk badly about Yashiro's reaction to Doumeki, regarding especially the moment when he pushes Doumeki away from him. They're going to grow frustrated and say he's sending Doumeki mixed messages, etc, etc... But Doumeki is also doing the same.

Doumeki, at this point, seems to me to be operating out of frustration, while Yashiro is still operating out of fear.

I felt like the pivotal moment of this chapter came after Doumeki turns Yashiro around and, for just a moment, lets his mask drop. When Yashiro makes his comment to him about him "making a face like (he) wants to do it really badly", I felt like Doumeki had an opportunity here that he blew. I'm not blaming Doumeki, let me just say right off, so that nobody misunderstands what I mean. But I think Doumeki still doesn't quite understand what's wrong with Yashiro. I think he thinks Yashiro is playing games, but he's not. Doumeki saw Yashiro's earlier moment of pushing him away when he started kissing and licking at his leg, when he was being gentle with Yashiro, and I think likely took Yashiro's comment about the face he was making as a mocking statement.

The awful part here is, it was a statement made in earnest.

So was Yashiro's reaction to pushing Doumeki away.

Yashiro is still triggered by gentle treatment. Look at his face when Doumeki starts licking at his leg, as he remembers four years earlier, to the first time they had sex. His expression is horrified. He's scared. He's traumatized. He's giving a trauma response to what's happening. You can tell by his reaction after pushing Doumeki away that it wasn't even a conscious thing he did. His body just reacted. He has this wide-eyed, shocked look, like he doesn't know what just happened.

And then Doumeki lets his frustration and probably some anger dictate his response, which is to manhandle Yashiro onto his stomach and take him from behind. Again, it's really important to watch Yashiro's reactions here to understand what's going on with him, I think.

Once again, his face is stricken. You can tell he doesn't want this at all. He even looks frightened for a moment, and then in pain as Doumeki pushes into him.

The thing is, Doumeki doesn't want this either, but like I said before, I think he's operating out of a place of frustration and anger. He lets his frustration with Yashiro's seemingly contradictory behavior push him to be forceful with Yashiro. But it doesn't last long. Doumeki then turns him again onto his back, and that's the moment he lets his mask drop, and Yashiro makes his comment about his expression.

Again, I think it's vital to understanding what's going on with Yashiro to also pay attention to his own expressions. He reaches for Doumeki's face, and smiles at him, and the look in his eyes is very soft. You can tell he means it, what he says to Doumeki, and you can tell he genuinely longs for it, for Doumeki to look at him the way he once did, with that gentle kindness and genuine desire.

If Doumeki understood what was really at the heart of Yashiro's issues, I don't think he would have reacted the way he did. He makes a mistake here when he pulls Yashiro's hand away, and even squeezes down painfully on it. Yashiro's reaction is one of confusion. He doesn't understand why Doumeki is suddenly back to being cold. He says "Huh?", when Doumeki tells him "What a nostalgic thing to say.", before once again forcefully pinning him down. Again, I think Doumeki thinks Yashiro is playing games, but he's seriously not. His response to Doumeki's gentility is a trauma response. He's still triggered by that kind of treatment, while simultaneously longing for it. He doesn't mean to be sending Doumeki mixed messages. This is what I mean when I say people need to keep in mind that this story is, at its core, about trauma and the ways it manifests. His responses to Doumeki aren't a conscious thing on Yashiro's part. He can look back at them retrospectively and think about them, like he does at the end of this chapter, but in the moment, I don't think it's voluntary at all. I think if Doumeki had taken that opportunity to just be honest with Yashiro, to tell him how he really feels, it would have been met with honesty from Yashiro in turn, because I don't think Yashiro is being dishonest at this point. I think his responses to Doumeki are all real. He says at the end of the chapter "I'm full of contradictions", a direct callback to when Yashiro was a teenager and he thought the same about himself. He's both genuinely triggered by Doumeki's gentility, and at the same time, wants it desperately.

The heartbreaking thing here is, Yashiro is blaming himself for fucking it all up again. He compares himself to livestock that can't change, and says he's completely incapable of growth. Yashiro's self-loathing is on full display. He really believes he'll never be able to move past the seeming contradictions inside him, contradictions he's felt since he was a boy. The longing for love, the deep desire to be loved, and yet, because of the severe abuse he suffered, his inability to receive that love without succumbing to a terrified, panicked response. It's Yashiro's trauma, rooted in what his stepfather did to him for years, that's preventing him from fully embracing Doumeki's love. He wants to, but he can't.

And that's the thing, too. Yashiro has always been aware of the contradictions in himself. He spoke about it as a teenager, about how he wanted to hurt Kage, but how he knew he would be hurt if Kage rejected him. That's where Yashiro misunderstood himself, though. He never wanted to hurt Kage. That was Yashiro's warped perception of himself, the part of him that thinks he wants to destroy beautiful things. It's not that. He's always just been afraid because affection triggers him, and so he convinced himself he wants to be abused, that it's his fault he's been abused because of that, as a means of coping with the way that abuse has destroyed him.

Exacerbating all of it is Doumeki's refusal to drop his mask of indifference. Again, I'm not blaming Doumeki. He's understandably frustrated, and I think starting to become angry, because he thinks it's simply a situation in which Yashiro is refusing to be honest with him about his feelings. He thinks Yashiro is messing with him, so he responds by pretending like he feels nothing for Yashiro. I don't think he realizes that he's only affirming for Yashiro his own fears that he's managed to turn Doumeki against him, that he lost Doumeki's love for him by pushing him away before, which only makes it all the harder for Yashiro to, essentially, ask for help. And Yashiro needs help. He can't do this on his own. He can't process his trauma and explain what's happening to him, explain what he's feeling, without understanding.

I don't think Doumeki understands Yashiro right now. I don't think he understands what's wrong with him.

Yashiro thinks about Doumeki with Izumi, and thinks about himself as a teenager, alone, and correlates his seeming inability to change with that aloneness. Doumeki has moved on from him, he believes, he's found an emotional connection and partner in Izumi, while Yashiro remains stuck in the same place, forever destined to be cut off and isolated from all, human affection.

He needs help. He needs someone to help him work through this, to cope with the fact that he both longs for kindness, gentility and love, while those things also terrify and repulse him and trigger a flight response in him. Yashiro isn't doing this on purpose. He's not lying. His natural inclination and desire for love and kindness is coming into direct conflict with his trauma, with the way those things, as a consequence of the abuse he's endured, have rendered love and kindness triggering to him.

I don't think Doumeki can help him until he figures out that Yashiro isn't being dishonest, but that he's trapped by his own trauma. Until he figures that out, until he realizes just how damaged Yashiro is, he's going to keep pretending he doesn't care about him, either as a punishment, or in some crude attempt to force him into acknowledging his feelings, which ultimately is having the opposite effect. It's only pushing Yashiro into a deeper hole of self-loathing and fear, only reaffirming for him every negative thought and feelings he's ever had about himself.

[kifkay]

Winx Headcanons, part 2!

Riven is a genuine fan of Musa’s music.

Musa is an early riser and annoying about it. Flora is also an early riser but is chill about it. 

Stella can sleep for like twelve hours straight and not give a damn. 

Tecna and Bloom stay up late at night, Tecna more so than Bloom. She will maim whoever wakes her early. 

Aisha loves to take naps whenever she feels like it, and sleeps like a baby. She also kicks at night.

All the Specialists have to be early risers because paramilitary school. Sorry, boys :(

Bloom and Sky sometimes fantasise about owning a menagerie of pets, if they were ever to move in together. 

Riven is genuinely a fan of Musa’s music.

Specialists vis-a-vis combat: out of all the boys, Sky has the best technique. He is also intuitive, able to read his opponent’s body language and easily predict what step they might take next. Timmy’s a short shooter, their main pilot, strategist and handler. He’s a whole unit on an actual mission, but is pretty useless in hand-to-hand combat. Brandon is the strongest, yet the most reckless with himself. He relies on his raw power and stamina to carry him through fights; a DnD Barbarian through-and-through. Riven, like Sky, is an excellent marksman. He has a knack for improvised weaponry and utilising his surroundings.

Helia is on par with Brandon vis-a-vis strength. He is agile; capable of dodging attacks and outsmarting opponents. Usually prefers to detain enemies and knock them out, and rarely engages in actual combat. When he is angry, there’s less technique, and more of self-destructive, horrifying beating.

Nabu is a warlock. He makes duplicates of himself that are capable of fighting but are glass cannons. He can detain and blind enemies, become invisible, make a fog, etc. In hand-to-hand combat, he lacks experience and stamina, but has a couple of tricks up his sleeve.

Sky is surprisingly a very good cook. All of the Specialists are not half bad at cooking, except for Nabu (that nepo baby never cooked a meal for himself in his life). 

The Winx are mostly bad at cooking. Tecna is ok; she follows all recipes to a T and ends with middling results. Musa is the best among the girls and actually enjoys cooking. 

Aisha likes sleeping with the lights on.

Since Aisha and Stella room together, Stella commissioned a Solarian engineer to create quality, magic light spheres that last months. They float near the ceilings and Piff likes to try and catch them. 

One side effect of prolonged psychic intrusion on a mind is the nightmares that follow afterwards. Riven struggles with them after Darcy.

Nabu also struggles with nightmares, due to him being a warlock and having battled/spared with many other psychics. As well as Darcy. He’s more humorous and dismissive of them; he says that he cannot remember his nightmares aside from a vague feeling of emptiness and anxiety. After meeting Aisha and working against Valtor, his nightmares would become way more concrete and terrifying. 

All the Winx adore Miele, and she loves them in turn. Tecna is probably her favorite though; she just finds her “the coolest and the bravest”!

Miele definitely had a crush on Brandon and Helia, although it was short-lived. 

Helia and Saladin have a very close, very complicated relationship. 

In childhood, Helia was entranced by his “Company of Light, Brightest sorcerer of Magix” grandpa Saladin. His father Rames was a pacifist and had a strained relationship with Saladin, but didn’t want to deprive little Helia of his grandfather. When Helia’s father and mother were in the midst of divorce, Helia, under Saladin’s guidance, enrolled in the Red Fountain. Rames raised his voice on Helia for the very first time and they had a big argument, which resulted in them not talking for a few months. 

They made up, but their relationship remained strained until Helia dropped out of school and came home to his father. 

Saladin instilled perfectionism in Helia, always expecting excellency and above. Saladin, being a military man, didn’t believe in “expressing feelings” or “being pacifist”. 

Saladin truly only wanted the best for Helia, but he never understood him or his own son.

Rames absolutely adores Flora. He is the crunchy-muchy granola dad, Henry Oak style, and how could he not love an eco-terrorist icon, the gentle Flora? 

[ravenna-reid]

Admirer from the past... (Pt. 2)

TW: blood, mention of dead bodies & birds and stalking/obsessive behaviour

Part One Here

No matter how hard you tried to distract yourself. How many times you re-read over the plethora of files on your dozens of clients. How many times you made yourself yet another cup of tea. How many times you re-organised your desk, you couldn't tear your mind away from the memory.

The lines of police tape and sirens. The black petals dusting the dirty, wet ground. The stench of the strangers blood smeared across the pavement to spell your name. The horrified faces all snapping up to catch your reaction. The Red Robin's eyes glued onto you.

Fuck, you knew that guy was really bad news when he first walked in.

Although you were a registered and respected forensic psychologist, you were also working at your own psychology clinic, handling patients that displayed erratic or criminal behaviour. And did you still remembered him like it was yesterday.

He'd been sent to you for his odd behaviour, psychopathic tendencies, signs of selective mutism as well as obsessive behaviour.

Extremely obsessive behaviour.

Harry tells you you were being naive for thinking he'd never become obsessed with you, but you just never imagined it. You had, maybe seven sessions in total with him? And soon enough, a dark figure watched you leave and return to the office every day. He sent copious amounts of dying flowers and disturbing letters, and it only grew worse.

Banging on your car window and begging to be with you. Bloodshot eyes and a spine chilling grin wherever you went. And soon after, once you realised you had to move out of your apartment, he was sent to the police. Banned from your clinic and from you.

And now look at what he was doing. Taking innocent peoples lives-

Your soul leapt through your chest when you heard the gentle tap on the window. You snapped your attention outside to see Red Robin there, sheepish smile across his face as he waved.

Surprised. You were genuinely surprised.

Subtly regathering yourself, you closed your laptop and walked towards the window. The cool chill from outside took its chance to creep into your office once you opened the window. Tim's eyes glanced over you. Your hair was thrown into a french twist again, a little messy this time with strands of hair escaping here and there. A long, checkered coat hugged snuggly around your body, a black turtle neck peeping through the top. Your hooped earrings dangled as you tilted your head to the side.

He could practically feel the blush creeping up on him.

"Red Robin. How did you find me?"

Red Robin. He liked how you said that.

He ignored your question and gestured to your office, "May I?"

You nodded.

Tim slipped through the window, but stayed close beside it as though he was unsure about stepping further into the room.

He awkwardly nodded, "Y/n."

You gave an amused smile in return. How odd was this.

"I uh, I did a little research. Your clinic is pretty well-known." He finally responded.

Pride flushed through your cheeks. "I would hope so. It took me almost a decade to get this far." You sat back down at your desk and crossed your legs. "Do you need something from me?"

"Well, I was sent here by-"

"Harry?" You finished with a light laugh and the shake of your head.

Tim's brow furrowed. "That predictable huh?"

"Yes," you held up one of your spare coffee mugs and raised a brow. Tim swallowed before shaking his head. "It's alright."

You placed it back on your shelf. "Very predictable. Especially given the circumstances. Harry has known about this bastard for a while now."

"Yeah, about that. I was pretty eager to check up on you too after that."

Your heart beat a little faster. Tim moved closer to your desk, his eyes trailing over all of the files. The many degrees, masters and awards hanging above it. He snickered.

"How humble."

You shrugged. "'Humility is the solid foundation of all virtues.'"

With a genuine smile on his face, he leant against your desk and crossed his arms. "I need whatever you have on this guy so I can get him. Put him away before he does any more damage."

"I agree," You said before pulling a folder out of the nearest filing cabinet. "Here. This has everything. Criminal records, psychoanalysis, extra notes and information."

Tim flipped it open and immediately became immersed in it.

Jacob Harrington was his name, which Tim - of course - already knew, but he was still surprised that this guy was actually younger than both of you.

Tim's dark hair fell before his eyes as he read, and you couldn't help but watch on and admire him.

He was definitely handsome, and therefore probably taken.

"What a fucking creep." He murmured, reading over the counts of crimes he committed towards you prior to this incident. Mainly all of the stalking.

"Tell me about it." You sighed. "I'll help you in any way you need. I can predict his behaviour, and I have some friends in high places."

Tim smiled, until his thoughts went to one of your little friends. "Like Harry?"

"A bit higher up than Harry."

Tim hummed. Then berated himself for thinking such a thing.

No Tim. Don't ask her, don't ask her, don't ask her-

"Are you too close?" The words were out before he could stop himself. He gave you a side glance and didn't miss the expression that melted onto your face.

"I suppose," You teased out. "Harry has always been a family friend."

"A very protective one." Tim pointed out. Rightfully so he guessed, but he still wanted to test the waters.

"Yeah, I guess he feels he kinda owes it to me to be so protective."

"Owes it to you?"

"Harry was the detective signed onto my parents case. But he never found the guy that killed them." You gave a sad shrug, your eyes still trained on the rug.

Something tugged at Tim's heart, and suddenly his determination to find this asshole who was stalking you became even more fervent. Intense. He would keep you safe, if it was the last thing he'd do.

"I'm so sorry y/n."

You took a sharp breath in and masked it all with a smile. "It's alright Wonder Boy." But he didn't believe you. Instead, there was this sweet, sympathetic glint in his eyes. This was the guys that plummeted bad guys?

Suddenly, your phone buzzed on the table. "Ha, speak of the devil." You gave a light laugh before answering. "Yes, he is here. Yes, we are fine."

Tim watched you, tried to read the conversation by reading your expressions. And obviously, Harry had just said something that terrified you.

"What? My apartment? But..."

Tim put the folder back on your desk and frowned. "What is it?"

You stayed silent though, listening intensely to what Harry had to say. And every second was agonising for Tim until you finally hung up.

"What's wrong y/n? Is it that guy?"

Your face grew pale as you tried to find the words. "He.."

Tim stepped closer. "Yeah?" He ushered gently.

"That fucker wrecked my apartment."

Part 3

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 31

quick note first of all, would anyone be interested in me also doing a liveblog for 'The Unwanted Guest' as well as these remaining chapters?

and after three books we’re back on the Ninth where this all started. Kiriona’s putting on a bit of a show with the ‘Home sweet home’ thing, but it really can’t be pleasant returning to somewhere she spent an absolutely horrible childhood trying to escape, and without Harrow no less

this might genuinely be the first time there has ever been a dog on the Ninth, i don’t really see the cult of goth priests being big on pets

‘then again, i’m not sure of John period’ yeah me neither, quite frankly even after a book which spends half its page time detailing his backstory i’m still unsure about what exactly his plans and powers are

‘a string of fairy lights wouldn’t have gone amiss’ honestly given Harrow’s general penchant for interior bone design, i think she could be persuaded if the fairy lights were made out of actual bone somehow

ohh holy shit there was a good moment while reading that description of Gideon surrounded by corpses with blood on her sword that i fully thought that she’d come back to the Ninth on some weird revenge mission and just straight up murdered Crux

‘My lady, you have come home to us … at last’ why is this making me feel things for Crux of all people. like he has no idea about Nona, or that Harrow’s lost in the River, or anything she’s been through at all. all he knows is that she left for the First, became a Lyctor, and never communicated or came home again

oh great we’re returning to possibly the creepiest part of GtN with the weird ‘devil’ things. between the duel of the Third and Sixth and possession of Colum Asht, the second half of that book is suddenly becoming very relevant again. while Nona’s been living in a combination slice-of-life/war drama, Kiriona’s life seems to have taken a sharp turn into zombie apocalypse novel. fun!

i’m very intrigued about the little pieces of John and Gideon’s relationship that we get here, notably i think (if i remember correctly) that this is the first time she’s mentioned him as ‘Dad’, seemingly completely sincerely, unlike calling him ‘Pops’ at the end of HtN. and apparently he falsely reassured her that the devils were confined to Antioch, but Kiriona seems to have fully believed him and sounds genuinely upset that he apparently lied about it

wow Crux literally cannot stop hating on Gideon even when he’s actively fucking dying. on one level i can admire the commitment but dude, this level of beef with a literal teenager is ridiculous

‘there was a figure there - dark robes with a pale face’ okay i really can’t figure out what is with the weird stalker figure here. is it Nona having a hallucination of Harrow? just a strange description of one of the nuns?

Pyrrha apparently painted a mint green nursery here a long time ago, i assume for Anastasia’s kid, which would explain the weird remark about helping deliver a baby back in chapter 10. also this implies a version of the Ninth which was at one point not quite so dedicated to the doom-and-gloom-bones-and-death aesthetic, which feels inconceivable to me

well hello Aiglamene long time no see, this is a slightly more welcome return than Crux at least. ngl i really wasn’t expecting to see all these characters from the beginning of GtN again, but it’s interesting to catch up and see how little has really changed there despite all the events of the series

ohhh my god. this is not how i expected a reunion between Aiglamene and Gideon to go. Aiglamene seems so genuinely shaken by the fact that she’s dead, and the fact that she’s apparently very angry at Harrow on Gideon’s behalf, like !! she definitely seems to care about Gideon a lot more than she ever actually let on to her

‘Nona was deeply horrified to see actual walk-around skeletons’ i think Harrow would be mortally offended that anyone in her body could find skeletons horrifying

actually yknow what i take back what i said in GtN about Palamedes, Paul should absolutely not be a therapist with this bedside manner

‘You can’t take loved away’ uh, excuse me for a minute i need to sit in a corner and cry my heart out for a moment. this moment really feels like a summary of a lot of themes in the whole series

ok the final nail in the coffin for my emotional wellbeing at the end of this chapter is that Pyrrha did actually get a birthday present, one that she’ll never be able to give her. here i am completely distraught over cheap moustache rides what have you done to me Tamsyn Muir

istg at least some part of Nona needs to live on. like c’mon Gideon died at the end of the first book and she’s still kicking, Nona can do it too. once again it is nearly the end of a Locked Tomb book and i am in severe denial about probably permanent character death

[otomes-and-tears]

CAN I REQUEST A JB X SHILOH FIC WHERE SHILOH AND JB ARE DATING, SHILOH IS DATING JB PURELY FOR HIS OWN BENEFIT BUT THEN OVER TIME HE SLOWLY STARTS TO FALL FOR HER. ONE DAY HE SMILES AFTER TEXTING WITH JB AND FEELS SAD THAT THEY STOPPED. THATS WHEN HE GOES : “Oh” “Oh shit.” CAN I GET A FIC OF THAT REALIZATION it’s okay if u don’t want to tho it’s fine i’m just insane brbrrbrjrj

♦ The games we play (The lies we live) ♦

► tags/warnings: -

► summary: Sometimes the quietest realisations are the most horrifying.

► words: 1598

► a/n: THANK YOU FOR THE SHILOH REQUEST i freaked out so much when I got it!! He's my favorite boy ever and It's so nice to get to write him! I LOVE THAT LITTLE SPOTTED SNAKE! Ok so, for context, there's a little interaction you can get with Missy and Alicia where they're discussing their plans for the weekend and JB (who's dating shiloh) mentions she isn't going to spend time with him because she likes to keep him on his toes, just so he doesn't slack off in sucking up to her because they're dating. This fic is basically what's happening to him when she's ignoring him

► Masterlist

> I’m telling you shya!!!

> lynn totally saw me  > he just pretended not to and passed right by me :/ > didn’t even say hi > do you think that if I act upset enough he’ll make an extra meeting to apologise?”

The text messages poured in, Shiloh’s phone lighting up in accordance to the frantic rhythm of JB’s thoughts, reflecting her annoyance with nurse Lynn’s behaviour. Her contact was pulled up so Shiloh could see them right as they were received. There’s a little red number in the corner of the screen, right next to the arrow that collapses the chat and allows him to see his other conversations.

A tiny emblem of his neglect for the other thirty or so conversations he hadn’t bothered to answer just yet. They didn’t matter right now, anyway.

JB, his current target, did.

…For now, at least.

A year, two weeks and two days.

It’s how long they had been exclusively dating. Shiloh knew the exact count off the top of his head. It wasn’t romanticism that kept the date firmly stuck within his memory, but a downright obsession, a careful reminder of the parameters of the game they both played, but JB excelled at.

She had whisked him away for a ride on the tunnel of love for their anniversary just two days ago, the echoes of her laughter bouncing off the dim lights of a ride he had visited far too many times before. Wherever she led, he followed obediently, content to allow her to set the rules for the evening, curious to see what she’d do next, what boundaries she’d push. What information she'd try to learn.

And it had been… interesting.

JB was not exactly like the others he’d been with. He tried to picture them in his mind— but their names and faces blurred together. An amalgam of broken hearts he discarded once they’d outgrown their purpose.

He always knew that Jb was different. 

The girls before her had been easier, for one. Soft, pliant things who clung to his well-rehearsed charm like moths to a flame. 

They were swayed by his charms and easy flattery, enchanted by his willingness to remember important dates and the little moments he fabricated to make himself appear just vulnerable enough to fool them into believing there was more to his inner world than what he showed, plainly, to the rest of the world. 

Jb was not the first girl by far to believe she saw through him, but she was likely the very first to be motivated by a desire to make him worse rather than better. No disappointed sighs and gentle kisses and soft assurances that they’d open up his heart to love, that they’d love him just as much if he started being his genuine self. That he would never have to be afraid of rejection just as long as he held them in his arms. 

JB was easy to read and made her desires clear with every word that left her smiling lips. 

She took everything he gave her eagerly. Lies and truths alike,uncaring of which is which , just as long as he kept himself useful, as he stayed interesting enough to sate her boredom. She kept him on his toes, and allowed him to perfect his tactics, delighted in every time she was able to call him the snake that he was.

It was… Fun, surprisingly. More fun than he ever had with any of his previous… Girlfriends? Conquests? 

Of course. If he accused Jb of dating him for unpure reasons, he could likely point the finger at himself, too. She had been his target for a simple reason: JB, the only girl in the stupid after-school group he had been forced to join, had become the quiet object of everyone’s attention

It had been a powerplay. She was attractive enough, funny enough, and being with her meant that, for however long Shiloh kept Jb’s interest, all those guys he hated didn’t get what they wanted. They’d have to live with the fact that Shiloh of all people robbed them of their prize.

And well, no one could never accuse him of not being petty.

That’s how things started, of course. But Shiloh isn’t exactly sure that this is where things stand now. Being with JB has been practical— useful to his image, a silly ploy for revenge, but every time she dragged him out for a date and smiled just a little wider when she managed to make him struggle for an answer, he found himself hoping that whatever he did to make her like him would keep her interest for a little while longer.

It was easy to rationalise it, at first. He needed her to like him for as long as possible in order for his ploy to be effective. He needed to be the one to put a stop to their relationship once it had outgrown its use. He had considered it once or twice already—  but he never went through with it, always convincing himself to hold out for just a little longer.

But a year had passed.

A full year had passed and Jb was still listed as “girlfriend” on his contact list.

And he didn’t know why.

He stared at her latest text, his thumb hovering over the keyboard. Finally, he typed:

> I don’t think our groupmates would like that very much D';

Not a minute later he receives her indignant texts in response. 

And Shiloh laughed.

A real laugh, unbidden and quiet, slipping past the cracks in his carefully constructed facade.

—

She doesn’t answer her texts the next day.

Shiloh didn’t think much of it at first.

JB was mercurial by nature, her moods shifting with the same careless speed as her insults. If she stopped texting for a day, he chalked it up to one of her whims. Maybe she was busy with her endless stream of other amusements— gossiping with Missy, spending time with Alicia or oh so carefully balancing her social engagements to make sure she was well-liked by the several cliques at their school

It wasn’t unusual.

By the second day, Shiloh’s phone felt a little heavier in his pocket.

He checked it compulsively, convincing himself he wasn’t worried. This wasn’t the first time JB had gone radio silent. Of course, it was one of her games. It had to be. 

One specifically designed to pull him taut so she could watch him squirm. 

She always got a kick out of that.

Still, he found himself typing out messages and deleting them before they could take form. What could he even say? Shiloh was well aware that she would love to see him crawling, pathetically begging her for any scraps of attention she’d be so magnanimous as to offer him, but she didn’t always enjoy predictability. What if she wanted something new? What if his usual humiliation wasn’t enough?

By the third day, the silence wasn’t just noticeable. It was deafening.

When Shiloh saw her in the corridors, talking to Everett of all people, she breezed past him without so much as a second glance. Her perfect composure gave nothing away: not a flicker of irritation or even triumph. If this was punishment, she didn’t need to gloat. JB had already won.

For the first time, Shiloh didn’t know how to play her.

And it was strange.

That night, he paced his room restlessly, until his roommate got so annoyed he left for the common room. Shiloh’s phone sat innocently on the nightstand, like it wasn’t a symbol of his torment, glowing softly with her name pulled up on his contact list.

She hadn’t blocked him—he knew because he’d sent a casual, nonchalant “Hey” an hour earlier, and the little “seen” indicator had appeared beneath it, making her silence even more revealing.

He could’ve called her. And he should, maybe. Perhaps that was the desperate measure she had been looking for, but he had the feeling she would’ve rejected it without a second thought.

So instead, he threw himself onto his bed, hat falling to the floor. Shiloh glares at the ceiling as the realisation crept in:

It started as a whisper, a nagging doubt he tried to smother with arrogance and logic. She was just another game, another conquest, like the amalgam of names and faces that came before her. She liked him because he was a liar and a snake, because he was interesting, and he stuck around her because she was useful. That’s all it was.

But the longer he sat in her absence, the louder the whisper became.

He thought about the way her laugh could slice through his defences like a razor. The way she could look at him with that curious glint in her eyes, like she could read every rotten thing written in his soul and didn’t care about how deep the cracks went. 

The way she made him feel… seen, even when he wasn’t sure he liked it. 

She never fell for the ideal of who he could be.

“Oh,” 

He murmured aloud, his voice a hollow echo in the quiet room, grey eyes widening in realization. When

And then, softer, more horrified, as the truth settled in his chest like a lead weight. He barely even hears the sound of his phone pinging, notifying him that Jb had finally answered his text, through the thudding of his heart.

“Oh.”

For once, in many years, Shiloh Fields had no plan. 

No angle. 

No convenient excuse to bury this unfamiliar ache that bloomed whenever JB crossed his mind. 

He was screwed.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Hello! Been reading your twilight posts recentlt and was wondering what you think might have happened if James had killed Emmett in the ballet studio, particularly how it would have affected Rosalie/her dynamic with the Cullens?

Bella feels horribly guilty to learn that her stupid plan to save her mother (who had not been kidnapped) as well as the fact that she drew James's attention in the first place (which would not have happened had she not intruded in the Cullen's world where she feels she doesn't belong) got someone killed. Not just someone, either, but one of the Cullens, Edward's beloved brother, and Emmett who seemed so nice for all she didn't know him that well.

Bella is devastated and feels increadibly guilty and horrible.

This is made worse by Rosalie's (understandable if not ideal) reaction where I imagine she blames Bella to her face. This never would have happened if Bella had not been involved in their lives, not come to that baseball game, or if they hadn't saved her from that stupid van/killed her the night after like Rosalie wanted to. Rosalie feels as if she's traded Emmett for Bella and she hates that.

Edward of course blames Rosalie for having the worst reaction possible and actively driving Bella into a depression.

I imagine Rosalie leaves, Edward clearly isn't leaving Bella (as I imagine he'd want to hold on a little longer/this wouldn't be the New Moon wakeup call for him) and she wants time on her own to grieve/not get into fights with Edward over whose fault it is that Emmett died. No doubt Rosalie also blames the family somewhat as if they had sided with her and chosen not to protect Bella, Emmett would be alive. It's understandable why they wanted to protect Bella but it also was dangerous and risked someone dying for what. Rosalie needs some time to process alone.

Bella now feels she's driven Rosalie out of the family, this makes her guilt even worse.

I imagine Bella actively tries to avoid the Cullen household that summer (unlike canon) as being there reminds Bella of what happened/she believes it reminds the Cullens of what happened...

Honestly, I think Bella dumps Edward. She tries to hang on to him but as the weeks go by and his family is clearly falling apart, and it's all her fault, and he's sitting there being so sweet when she just effectively murdered his brother...

I don't think Bella could do it, it'd be too much and she'd double down on "Edward deserves better than me". Especially when she can justify that Edward can't read her thoughts, he's clearly too good to ever blame her when she deserves it, and she can say to herself "Edward doesn't realize how awful of a person I am."

So, Bella breaks up with him so that he can have someone better, his family can move, and they can heal. Edward is shocked and horrified but in the midst of his despair and depression remembers that this was what he wanted, he wanted to leave Bella eventually and her doing it versus him might be better. So, Edward leaves immediately and steals all her pictures/every gift he ever gave her.

Bella sinks into her New Moon depression immediately (made worse by Emmett's death and the fact that Bella did this herself and now is weak for wanting to take back her decision and oh god she's the worst person on the planet).

The Hallucination Edward times are even more fraught as Bella feels doubly guilty in that she shouldn't want to summon Edward and yet she can't live without him. I imagine this results in even riskier behavior as Bella genuinely thinks she should die and gets closer and closer to actively wanting it.

Bella probably succeeds in killing herself.

(The Jacob thing here... I don't know if he could help because the thing is Bella despises herself so much/feels so guilty and Jacob has no context for understanding this even if he becomes a wolf (added that Bella now is responsible for people dying because Victoria is actively hunting her) that I don't think Bella can use her friendship with him to claw her way out of depression.

He'd probably just make her feel worse given he shifted because of Victoria which is because of her and have we mentioned Emmett is dead?)

I imagine Alice does not tell Rosalie in part because Rosalie's not near her when it happens also because... well... bad history and Alice blames Rosalie for this mess.

This means no one tells Edward.

Edward's suicide is thus put off for as long as he feels he can live without Bella. When he breaks and goes to check on her, he discovers she's died and goes to Volterra to kill himself where no one is able to stop him from breaking the law.

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N - As promised, one for male-presenting folks. This is also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53448742/chapters/135282199

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEM VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). He’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, he’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? He helps with everything here, and he doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your cleaner!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

[suusoh]

Your post about Johan pushing boundaries and being a little perv with someone who’s trying their best to keep things platonic haunts me. You tried to cook and you succeeded. Best meal i’ve had in months.

Idk if you’ve read the fanfics by ddarkerdreams (i’m almost certain you have cause we’re all starved for Johan content) but the second one has these moments where Johan just gets unnecessarily close to the reader. Or when he buckles her seatbelt in the car. And ddarkerdreams also made a bunch of headcanons about him where they mention him grabbing the reader’s chin and holding them in place so he can look them in eye uninterrupted.

I imagine at first he’d just keep doing these little actions that are so obviously intimate and definitely make darling squirm, but can also be interpreted as platonic just to gage their reaction or mess with them. And then he’d just slowly escalate. Like he’d go further and further. I have two scenarios in my head:

In the first he’d just push boundaries to see them squirm and desperately try to keep things platonic. This one’s definitely the most in-character for Johan cause he’s a little shit who loves watching people and their reactions like the world’s his zoo or smth. Pre-ending Johan would 100% go for this one.

In the second he’d start with the small stuff and get them used to it. He’d be subtle enough that, despite the actions being obviously intimate and flustering, they wouldn’t realize the escalation. At first he might regularly invade their personal space and just shove his face way too close to theirs when talking. Once they dismiss that as “he’s just like that i guess” and get used to it, he’d start being unnecessarily touchy. I imagine this would be more of a thing for post-ending Johan. Cause after the whole identity crisis mental breakdown thing i imagine he’d be more afraid of having them run away. He could always kidnap them ofc, but having them slowly get more and more attached to him might be preferable. Like i imagine after regaining his identity, he’d be very desperate to have people not only acknowledge it, but also accept it. The jig is up, he’s his own person, others can perceive him, i think it’d be a huge thing whether or not the person he wants also wants him. So subtly getting them attached is him being horrified of rejection and manipulating them into a relationship instead of having to face his fears.

Sorry for the rant but i have no one to talk to about this 😭

(reference post)

HELLO ANON!! I'M SO SOSO SORRY IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO FINANLLY ANSWER THIS. THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS!!!

Let me tell you a little something, this ask was honestly one of my favourite asks of all time <3 I remember receiving this when I really was still just in the middle of starting out with suusoh.

Truth be told I was just a little bit intimidated because your ask is honestly just.. .chefs kiss. so good. talented. brilliant. amazing. showstopping. never the same. life changing. literally nothing else I can add to this. Your brain is beautiful and humongous.

BUT YES!!!! I'M PRETTY SURE ALL OF US BY NOW HAVE CONSUMED @/ddarker-dreams JOHAN. IT'S A RITE OF PASSAGE AT THIS POINT AND YES YES YES YES I AM INSPIRED BY THE SECOND FIC WHERE HE REALLY JUST ALL UP ON READER'S SPACE LIKE THAT HFKLAHHJF. GODDDD. Like the way putting on someone's seatbelt or lifting their chin could easily be brushed off as non-romantic or non-sexual and johan will exploit the SHIT out of that. Always making it seem like it's your fault for putting meaning into things.

And you're also getting what I'm saying about post-rurenheim johan as well😭!! Like he'd slowly push your boundaries too, but unlike pre-rurenheim johan who does it for his little entertainment and show, post-rurenheim johan does it because it's his way of genuinely slowly inch by inch getting closer to you and lowkey persuading you to let him be touchy and clingy with you. Literally does the whole "yes, friends sit on each other's lap, this is completely normal. Sit on my lap please please please please."

Thank you for your ask anon! Apologies again that it took me a while, but my blog is open to these thoughts of yours anytime!!

[lucky-clover-gazette]

okay captive prince re-read is kind of funny knowing what i know now from the rest of the series. i remember being not completely sold on it and pretty horrified for the majority of book 1, so i did speed through some parts. but now i am closely reading and there is SO MUCH here!! both in the “i know more than damen” sense and in the “i genuinely trust the author’s intentions and the story’s themes” sense

so far i’m specifically loving the running bit of damen noticing 1) laurent’s blonde hair and 2) other people who are not laurent’s blonde hair, which he has literally no reason to specify. like i’m only on chapter 2 right now, not far at all, but there have already been at least 3 Damien Likes Blondes and Specifically Laurent Who Is Blonde Moments. despite the horrors, damen will take that totally necessary moment to appreciate the beautiful hair of the dude who is intentionally making his life a living hell

speaking of which - obviously, on re-read, everything laurent says and does makes a whole different kind of sense. there’s the genuinely sad and disturbing stuff ofc, but so much of it is just like. this man is the sitcom character who hates everyone and everything that’s happening around him. he’s looking into the camera like he’s on the office. he’s communicating in 95% backhanded insults to everyone but damen, who he just insults. he is livetweeting his own misery in a genre-appropriate non-anachronistic manner, which is to say he’s just being a dramatic bitch for an audience of himself (and me, on re-read). like on the first read i assumed that this is just how laurent truly acts, but now that i know who he is when he’s not in this fucked up situation, it is so clear that he’s just committing to a bit. i know that this freak uses improv and pretending as a strategic ploy and defense mechanism. he’s not fooling me this time around, so i get to enjoy it for what it really is, knowing that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be, or how he even wants it to be. laurent is making his own fun, which is not fun for damen or a first-time reader, but i know those idiots are going to be fine so it’s surprisingly enjoyable to indulge in the sadistic comedy of it.

(that said, some of it is still pretty stomach-turning, and absolutely not fun to read. laurent’s backstory isn’t an excuse for what he subjects damen to, or the customs of the court. but that is the point.)

so much credit to cs pacat for constructing a narrative that allows for this kind of perspective shift on re-read. she clearly knows and loves these characters deeply, and thought so hard about the implications of every little moment. it really is an intoxicating sort of creative energy, and i’m enjoying it from a reader and a writer’s perspective.

really glad that i’ve found this series to dig into. i’d love to keep posting my thoughts if people are interested!