#threads ft. rumor

[demonwebs]

❝ get off of me already ... ! ❞ he's pinned down like a little mouse , squished under what feels like piles and piles of fur . which is actually quite soft . and it's getting all over him ! stupid werewolves . stupid .

❝ ugh ... ❞ the drow groans , a scowl greeting her as she shifts back . the frown doesn't even soften . now , usually he's happy to be pinned down by a naked woman . there is nothing usual about this , and her uncouth behavior .

they're in a staring contest , and his feline red eyes narrow until they turn to slits . ❝ i violently dislike you . ❞

If she could cackle, she would, as it was, she couldn't, so instead she stuck her little wolfy tongue out at him as his webs uselessly pulled him closer instead of muzzling her as intended. She let out several barks that were definitely laughs and kept rolling around until she had him pinned all 7 feet of black wolf.

And then just to be the absolute worse. She shifted back.

Naked.

Right on top of him, smirking, elbows on his chest, chin in her hands as she looked down at his face. Her feet were up behind her, kicking back and forth casually.

" So I get the bed now, right? "

Because surely he wouldn't want it now it was covered in wolf fur, shredded materials and just looking like an overall disaster.

[thecreaturecodex]

Yule Lad

"Gryla and the Yule Lads" © Marc Potts, accessed on his Threads account here

[It's been a while since I made a new Christmas monster, hasn't it? I woke up this morning with an uncontrollable urge to stat up the Yule Lads. It's December 21st at the time of posting, so look out for Window Peeper!]

Yule Lad CR 4 CN Fey This odd little man has a red cap, a white beard and a look of disheveled mischief about him. His fingernails are claw-like, and the shadows around him cast eerie shapes.

The Yule Lads are a gang of gnomish pranksters, each of them specializing in a particular brand of theft or harassment. They are so named because their habit is to descend upon communities during the winter solstice in order to wreak their mischief. They are the sons of the wicked troll Grýla and the lazy ogre Leppalúði, but themselves are not evil. They once were, and happily abducted children for their mother to eat, but they have mellowed somewhat with the passing of the ages. A household that endures their thefts and torments with good humor may find themselves rewarded with small strange gifts (often those stolen from other households).

There are thirteen prominent Yule Lads who travel together, coming down from the mountains one by one to prey on the same community before leaving in turn after a few weeks of mischief. Each one is named after their preferred targets or habits. They are, in their typical order of operations:

Sheepcote Clod, who harasses sheep and drinks their milk straight from the udder

Gully Gawk, who peeps on milkmaids and steals milk once it has been collected

Stubby, who steals burnt food and dirty pans and has very short legs

Spoon Licker, who licks the stirring spoons between uses to contaminate them

Pot Scraper, who steals leftover food before it can be stored

Bowl Licker, who eats food left out for domestic animals

Door Slammer, who wakes families up in the night with loud banging noises

Skyr Gobbler, who is voracious for skyr, yogurt and other fermented dairy products

Sausage Swiper, who hides in the rafters of smokehouses to steal sausages

Window Peeper, who is a voyeur and general thief

Door Sniffer, who can smell fresh baked bread from miles away

Meat Hook, who uses an ogre hook to steal meat from butchers and pantries alike

Candle Beggar, who steals candles in order to eat them

The Yule Lads prefer not to fight if they can help it. They use their mastery over shadows to teleport in and out of houses to rob and to frighten off anyone who attempts to stop them. If they are met with lethal violence, they will fight back, but typically attempt to flee if they see an opportunity. If one of the Yule Lads is slain, however, his brothers will declare a vendetta against his killer and retaliate in turn. These feuds end with the death of the killer and their associates, or with the killer paying off the Lads with sufficient weregild. Rumors circulate that there have been as many as fifty Yule Lads over the centuries, some of whom were slain and others of whom have grown bored of vexing people and retreated into the wilderness for good.

Yule Lad CR 4 XP 1,200 Variant advanced ogrekin redkind CN Small fey (giant) Init +6; Senses low-light vision, Perception +7 Aura twisted shadows (30 ft., DC 14)

Defense AC 22, touch 17, flat-footed 16 (+1 size, +6 Dex, +5 natural) hp 28 (3d6+18) Fort +7, Ref +10, Will +5 Weakness giant-blood, situational blindness

Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee 2 claws +6 (1d4+5) Spell-like Abilities CL 3rd, concentration +6 At will—dancing lights, darkness, detect thoughts (DC 15), ghost sound (DC 13), lullaby (DC 13) 1/day—grease (DC 14), minor image (DC 15), snare

Statistics Str 20, Dex 22, Con 23, Int 12, Wis 13, Cha 17 Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 21 Feats Alertness, Deft Hands Skills Climb +9, Disable Device +11, Escape Artist +12, Intimidate +10, Perception +9, Sense Motive +9, Sleight of Hand +14, Stealth +18; Racial Modifiers +4 Intimidate Languages Common, Giant, Sylvan SQ deformities (varies), shadow jump

Ecology Environment cold mountains and urban Organization solitary or family (2-13) Treasure standard (thieves tools, other gear)

Special Abilities Deformities (Ex) Each of the Yule Lads has two deformities, one beneficial and one disadvantageous. These are as follows:

Sheepcote Clod: gnarled hands (claws deal 1d6 damage); stiff back (-4 to grapple and trip combat maneuver checks; can only stand from prone as a full-round action)

Gully Gawk: bulging eye (darkvision 60 ft.); light sensitivity

Stubby: thick feet (+4 CMD vs. bull rush, overrun and trip, +2 AC vs. charge attacks); stunted legs (-10 ft. movement)

Spoon Licker: lanky (+5 ft. reach); fragile (-4 Con)

Pot Scraper: thick skin (+2 natural armor); distractible (when rolls a natural 1 on an ability check, attack roll, saving throw or skill check, confused for 1 round)

Bowl Licker: oversized maw (bite attack dealing 1d4 damage); brittle bones (creatures gain a +4 circumstance bonus to confirm critical hits against him)

Door Slammer: vice grip (+2 to CMB to disarm and grapple, +4 CMD vs. disarm and grapple); obese (-2 Dex)

Skyr Gobbler: quick metabolism (+2 to Fortitude saves), weak mind (-2 to Will saves)

Sausage Swiper: long fingers (Climb speed equal to ½ land speed); offensive odor (-2 Cha, detectable at double range with scent)

Window Peeper: enlarged skull (+2 Int, [3 ranks in Appraise]); deformed hand (only one claw attack, -2 to attack rolls with two-handed weapons)

Doorway Sniffer: snout (scent); trusting (-2 to Will saves vs. mind-influencing effects, -1 initiative)

Meat Hook: oversized limb (can wield Medium weapons without penalty); flaking skin (-1 natural armor, vulnerability to nonlethal damage)

Candle Beggar: grotesque ears (blindsense 10 ft., +4 Perception); massive girth (-4 to Stealth)

Giant-Blood (Ex) Although the Yule Lads are fey creatures, they are the children of giants, and as such are treated as having the giant subtype for the purposes of spells and abilities. Situational Blindness (Su) The Yule Lads have trouble targeting creatures who can’t see them. Any creature that can’t see a Yule Lad (such as by closing its own eyes) gains partial concealment from it. Any creature that covers itself entirely (such as by hiding under a blanket) gains full concealment, even if the creature would not otherwise be considered hidden. Shadow Jump (Su) A Yule Lad can travel between shadows as if using a dimension door spell. The Yule Lad must begin and end its transportation in an area of dim illumination. A Yule Lad can travel up to 40 feet a day in this fashion, and can split this distance up in 10 foot increments if he so chooses. Twisted Shadows (Su) In areas of dim illumination or darker, a Yule Lad’s presence animates the shadows within 30 feet of it into leering or wicked shapes. The first time a creature ends its turn within this aura, it must succeed at a DC 13 Will saving throw or become shaken for 10 minutes. If the creature succeeds at the saving throw, it cannot be affected again by the same Yule Lad’s twisted shadows for 24 hours. This is a fear effect, and the DC is Charisma-based.

[itacats]

Under the Shadow of Ghost

FT: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader

Warnings: past trauma, war themes, please let me know if anything else should be here!🙏

A/N: Trying something new with a character that has been plaguing my brain. First time writing with TF141 - feeling like this might be a slow burn kinda thing.

Read Part 2 here! Read Part 3 here! Read Part 4 here! Read Part 5 here! Read Part 6 here! Read Part 7 here! Read Part 8 here! Read Part 9 here!

Part 1: Into the Fold

As the newest member of Task Force 141, I felt the electrifying pulse of adrenaline coursing through my veins, accompanied by an undercurrent of doubt that gnawed at my resolve. The weight of my gear was nothing compared to the weight of the responsibility that now fell upon me. Around me stood the elite – legends whose names alone carried more power than any weapon. Simon "Ghost" Riley was the most enigmatic among them, a figure whose reputation cast a shadow that stretched far beyond his silent presence. The skull mask he wore seemed to be more than just an intimidation tactic – it was a barrier, a reminder that no one was allowed to see the man beneath. His past was a whisper among the team, a dark tale of betrayal, violence, and unimaginable pain. And yet, he stood unflinching, his every movement deliberate, his gaze unreadable.

Beside him was Soap, a man who wore his brash confidence like a badge of honor. His laughter could cut through the tension of any firefight, his jokes and quips serving as the last thread of sanity we often clung to. But beneath that devil-may-care attitude, I knew there was a man as serious and deadly as any soldier I’d ever met. Then there was Gaz – razor-sharp, always on edge, his eyes flicking between targets as if constantly calculating the odds. He was quick-witted and quicker on the trigger, never missing a beat in the heat of battle. And finally, there was Captain Price, a figure larger than life itself. He had the kind of authority that didn’t need to be spoken. It was felt. His leadership was a rock in the storm, and even though he rarely showed emotion, his mere presence was enough to rally the team in the face of impossible odds.

I had been thrown into this firestorm, a greenhorn among giants. Earning their trust would take more than just pulling my weight in battle – it would take resilience, endurance, and a willpower forged in the fires of chaos. I had to prove that I was more than just another soldier assigned to fill a roster spot. I had to show them I was one of them. That I belonged.

My poker face became my greatest weapon, a mask I had perfected long before the battlefield became my home. No one could read the thoughts that tumbled like dice in my mind. The fear, the doubt, the anger – it all stayed hidden behind a façade of calm. But over time, as the sweat, blood, and dust of our missions blurred the days together, I found myself inexplicably drawn to Ghost. There was something about his quiet stoicism that spoke to me, something in the depth of his silence that resonated with the scars I carried – scars that ran deeper than the physical.

Ghost was a riddle wrapped in pain, a man shaped by horrors that would have shattered anyone else. I could see it in the way he moved, deliberate and unyielding, as if every step was an act of defiance against the demons that haunted him. His eyes, always obscured behind the mask, told stories I would never hear. The hushed rumors that swirled around him – the torture, the betrayal, the graves he had crawled out of – only heightened the sense of mystery. Yet, despite it all, he never faltered. He was the kind of soldier you could follow into hell without hesitation. But there was a heaviness to him, a burden he carried that no one could touch, and in some way, I understood that.

Perhaps that’s why I couldn’t help but feel a connection to him, even though I knew he’d never acknowledge it. Ghost didn’t form attachments – not in the way that others might. He lived in a world where connections were weaknesses, and weakness could - no - would get you killed. But still, in those moments between missions, in the fleeting glances and shared silences, I saw a flicker of something familiar. A reflection of my own struggles, my own battles fought in the shadows of my mind.

I knew better than to pry into his past. Men like Ghost didn’t share their stories willingly. They were locked behind walls so high and thick that no one could scale them. But in some way, just being near him made me feel like I wasn’t alone in my fight. Maybe that was the draw – the unspoken understanding between soldiers who had seen too much, lost too much, and yet continued to stand, unwavering, in the face of it all.

Every mission we embarked on was another chapter in a story that felt both infinite and fleeting. The gunfire, the explosions, the brief moments of camaraderie – they all blended together into a tapestry of survival. And in the middle of it all was Ghost, a figure who seemed more legend than man. I was determined to earn his respect, to prove that I wasn’t just another cog in the machine, but a soldier worthy of standing alongside the infamous Task Force 141. 

In the end, it wasn’t about being fearless. It was about understanding that fear was inevitable, but what mattered was how you handled it. Ghost had his way. And I had mine. But perhaps, in the chaos of war, we weren’t so different after all.

Read Part 2 here!

I want to turn this into a multi-part series. If you have any suggestions on how to improve for these guys let me know! Thought I might give these guys a writing shot and see how it turns out.

Thanks for reading this far💙

[eggymf-archived]

forever and always

ft. sebastian sallow with f!reader (one-shot)

themes: angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, porn with plot, slow burn, mutual pining, hurt to comfort, aged-up characters (21+), reader is not mc

warning: nsfw, smut, not spoiler-free, loss of virginity, mild depictions of injury, unedited, not proofread

summary: both you and sebastian are aurors who had just completed a mission. however, sebastian was wounded in the process, and the two of you decided to stay in an inn for the night to treat his wounds and get some rest. unfortunately, there’s only one vacant room left with one bed.

word count: 5.2k

a/n: didn’t expect it to turn out pretty long, but i’ll just casually drop this load of filth right here. 

masterlist || AO3 cross-post

“What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?!”

Sebastian winced as you cleaned a nasty gash on his chest with a soft cloth soaked in Wiggenweld Potion. In that moment, he wasn’t exactly sure which was worse: the physical stinging pain on his chest, your scalding tone, or the fact that you being angry somehow made you a bit more attractive than usual (not that you weren’t in the first place). You pointed your wand at his wound, muttering an unfamiliar spell: the wound stitched itself back with a translucent, silver thread coming from the tip of your wand. He gave you an appreciative grin while you glowered at him half-heartedly.

“The next time you pull that sort of stunt ever again, I will NOT help you with your wounds, Sebastian!” you huffed angrily, placing the soiled cloth into a bowl filled with water. You headed towards the bathroom to clean up while Sebastian stared at your retreating figure, a fond smile gracing his lips.

It has always been like this eversince the two of you became friends: kind and gentle (Y/N) always worrying about his wellbeing and being a mother hen whenever he got hurt. You’ve been friends with him and Anne eversince early childhood: the three of you were born in Feldcroft and have been living there for as long as you could remember, while Ominis joined your little group during your first year in Hogwarts. All four of you were sorted into Slytherin and were inseparable as a group. Throughout your years as friends, you were aware of Sebastian's penchant for getting himself into trouble and danger, and with how reckless he gets, you made it one of your many missions to study all sorts of healing spells out of concern for the boy. You always looked out for all of your friends, especially Sebastian. It was an oath you had personally took upon yourself.

However, Sebastian's friendship with you wasn’t always smooth. 

The end of 4th year was the start of the worst of his Hogwarts years: with Anne being cursed, Sebastian wasn’t the best person to interact with in general. You tried to help Anne of course, conniving with Sebastian by sneaking into the restricted section together with him and retrieving book after book. You had also asked your mother, who was a healer, to help with Anne's case. Unfortunately, you ended up on the receiving end of Sebastian's misplaced anger when you delivered the grave news he wasn’t ready to hear.

“I'm sorry, Sebastian. My mother tried everything. Anne can't be healed.”

“How could you say that, (Y/N)?! It’s either you’re not trying enough, or you don’t care about Anne enough!”

“That’s not--”

“I'd rather be with someone who’ll be more useful in finding a cure. So, if you’d excuse me, I have a book to read.”

He despised himself for saying such things, but his pride was a difficult pill to swallow. He steered clear from you during 5th year, opting to befriend the new 5th year student instead. It was all for Anne - he thought that the mysterious new student would be the key to finding the cure that Anne needs. At least, that’s what he merely tells himself out of his own miserable denial: during his absence from your life, it was rumored that you had began dating Garreth Weasley, so he decided to date the new student out of spite. It hurt him a lot: seeing you give the same warmth towards Garreth. But of course, being the insufferable prick he was at that time, he’d maintain the façade and pride of being in a relationship with the strongest student in their year.

Then everything just spirals out of control eversince he went into Salazar Slytherin's scriptorium. He had already lost you to someone else, and to further add fuel to the fire, he lost himself to his own madness, ended up murdering his uncle in the heat of the moment, his twin sister refuses to talk to him, his brother-like friendship with Ominis became strained, and his “significant other” breaks up with him after the school year when they no longer needed him. 

He deserved it all - he was stubborn, manipulative, and cruel. He couldn’t argue with that fact, yet you still took him in without any hesitation despite everything he had done.

It was during the first summer that he didn’t have Anne nor his uncle around - the time when he was graced with a slight glimmer of hope in making things right. Ominis was with him in their cottage in Feldcroft as usual, casually reading a book with his wand while lounging on one of the vacant beds. Sebastian was about to prepare their dinner when someone knocked on the door. Upon opening it, Sebastian was shocked to see you standing before him, holding a small pot of warm food.

“... Thought the two of you might be hungry, so I made extra.”

Sebastian teared up.

“(Y/N), I-”

You merely shook your head.

“Eat. We can talk all about it tomorrow,” you said, handing over the pot to Sebastian. “Also, I’m sorry about what happened.”

Sebastian watched you as you headed back to your home. He glanced at the pot he was holding, his heart twisting with both guilt and a slight relief. You had extended an olive branch towards him even if he was supposed to be the one who had to do it, and he felt ashamed yet thankful at the same time. Needless to say, Ominis was rather confused with Sebastian’s behavior, who was sniffling while eating their dinner that evening.

The brunette male chuckled to himself at the fond memory, but was soon snapped out of his reverie when he heard footsteps towards him. You grabbed a blanket and one of the pillows, heading over to the furniture-less spot in the room. 

“You’re sleeping on the floor?” Sebastian bemusedly asked.

“Why yes, I am. You need the bed more than I do. You’re hurt.”

“I was hurt, (Y/N), but I’m fine now thanks to you. We’ve always shared beds when we had sleepovers, so what’s the fuss now?”

“We were children back then, Sebastian. I'm actually a grown woman now, in case you haven’t noticed?”

“Well then, I'll sleep on the floor instead. Can’t have a grown woman sleeping on the floor now, can I?”

You sighed in exasperation, slightly throwing your hands up in disbelief as Sebastian stood up, striding towards you. 

“It’s either I sleep on the floor, or you sleep on the bed with me,” he interrupted before you could even protest against him. You swore you saw his lip twitch slightly into a teasing smirk, causing you to shoot him an irritated glare.

“OW!”

Sebastian rubbed the spot on his arm you just violently pinched, a grin still gracing his face triumphantly regardless of the pain as you sat on the other side of the bed. You were blushing furiously, grumbling about how stupidly inconvenient it was that the current room they were staying in for the night was the only vacant room left in this inn while Sebastian plopped right onto his side of the king-sized bed.

The night was still young, but the both of you were too exhausted with your recently finished mission of retrieving several smuggled dark artifacts from dark wizards. Sebastian was lying face up, staring at the decrepit ceiling of the room while you were laying on your side with your back facing him, quickly falling into a deep slumber due to fatigue. He turned towards you, staring at your back as his mind wandered back to what had occurred earlier.

You almost got hit by a slicing spell - the spell that Sebastian had voluntarily shielded you from at the very last minute. And there you were, chiding him about almost getting killed for saving you. 

Sebastian's fist clenched in silent worry as his eyes remained glued to your sleeping form. The thought of you being fatally injured or worse was undoubtedly his worst fear in this line of work - the both of you being Aurors and as a duo in assigned missions certainly had its perks, but a part of him couldn’t bear to stomach that you, his beloved (Y/N), always had death looming over you. You never were the combative type - you were a healer, not a soldier, yet regardless of that, you’d still accompany him to the ends of the earth to at least make sure he’s alive. It brought a twinge of pain within his chest the more he thought about all that you’ve done, and he hopes that he’d be blessed enough to repay you for your never-ending grace towards him.

Thankfully, your friendship with Sebastian had been mended for the most part these past few years. The bond was fixed somehow, yes - but it was never fully intact. Despite the both of you constantly being in each other’s company because of work, it’s as if you’re always separated from him by some sort of distance he couldn’t quite explain. Even within this small room, Sebastian feels a wash of longing despite you just being an arm’s length away from him. Is it because of the guilt of him pushing you away in the past; the fear of hurting you once again; or the fact that the both of you are always mere inches away from death so there’s no guarantee if one of you would be even alive the next day? 

Several soft sniffles could be heard from you as you shifted around, turning to face him.

“(Y/N)...?”

No response. Sebastian scooted slightly closer, finding a glistening wet trail at your nose bridge. Hesitancy took a hold on him - you were crying in your sleep. He hated seeing that more than anything, and that hate was further amplified by the fact that he didn’t know how to even help you with it without transgressing the invisible emotional boundaries between you and him. He placed his hand on your arm, causing you to stir from your slumber, your eyelids fluttering open.

“Seb...?”

His breath hitched at the old childhood nickname: you hadn’t called him that eversince he pushed you away. Gone were his reservations of keeping a respectable emotional distance from you - not when you said his name in such a soft, vulnerable tone after so long. Warmth enveloped you, snapping you out of your sleepiness. Sebastian had wrapped an arm over you, his palm resting at the back of your head as he pushed you closer towards him. You were about to protest against his actions and push him away, until he murmured his long-repressed wishes in a broken, pleading manner.

“Please just- Let’s stay like this. Even for a while. Merlin, I missed you so much, (Y/N). Please...”

You couldn’t say no to that. Hell, you could never say no to him. 

You succumb to the comfort and safety given by the man you’ve always loved eversince the both of you were children, reciprocating the hug by wrapping an arm around his waist while burying your face into his chest. You recalled the innocent sleepovers that you, Sebastian, Anne, and Ominis usually had back in the Sallow’s cottage - they were truly gems of memories that you held dear in your heart: the times when your circle was still intact, carefree, and blissful. Sebastian would often hug you like this especially when you had nightmares, and his warmth often lulled you into the best, uninterrupted slumbers. You could’ve cried in relief being in his arms once again, but you decided against it. 

He didn’t need any more sources of problems: not when he’s still in a turmoil of guilt, trauma, and the incapability of forgiving himself for what he did as a naïve teenage boy. You would’ve felt horrible if you were to sandwich your pent-up romantic feelings for him into the fray. Sometimes you wished you could rid him from all of this pain deep down, but alas, your healing prowess is only applicable to physical wounds, not mental and emotional ones.

This moment, however, albeit it being a moment of vulnerability with the both of you just lying in each other’s arms, it was truly a test of both of your mental and emotional fortitude. Both of your respective scents engulfed each other’s senses: dizzyingly pleasant, familiar, and comforting, driving you both closer and closer to the edge of self-control. The questions that raced within Sebastian's mind earlier were now getting less and less hazy as he looked at your once tear-stricken face, cupping it while his thumb gave featherlike caresses on your cheek. 

Yes, he felt guilty for pushing you away in the past. Yes, he feared breaking your heart once again. Yes, he feared your possible untimely death that could happen anytime. But that’s not the primary source of his painful longing this entire time. 

It was because he loves you from the start: heads over heels in love to the point he’d unconsciously steer you away from anything that would be cruel enough to steal the light that gave you so much life. He wanted to protect you from everything that would reduce you into ruins - most especially himself. He loves you to the point where it hurts. 

But with you staring at his eyes with the same sense of brokenness and unspoken yearnings, the bubbling desire he had feared and suppressed had finally broken through the walls of his self-control.

He captured your lips with his, inhibitions evidently thrown out of the window as you returned the kiss with equal fervor. Sebastian felt his mind blank out as the kiss became more and more frantic, desperately pulling you in closer to feel you against his body. You gasped for air as the both of you pulled away, gazing at each other’s blown-out eyes. Sebastian trailed his thumb on your lips, admiring your messily breathless and dazed form - even in such an unkempt state, you were still so fucking beautiful.

“This is your last chance to stop me, (Y/N),” Sebastian murmured with a hint of seriousness in his tone. “I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself if we continue.”

You leaned towards him, giving him a peck of reassurance on his red, flushed lips.

“Then don’t,” you breathed out.

Sebastian felt his last remaining trace of self-doubt disintegrate as soon as you whispered those saccharine words with so much pent-up desire. He smiled, gently locking his lips upon yours once more, relishing in your addicting taste. Having you in his arms like this felt so right - you were so utterly pliant, obedient, and needy for him. His hand reached the back of your head, yanking your hair to expose your dainty neck, peppering kisses along your jugular. Your felt yourself shudder, closing your eyes as you indulged in Sebastian's ministrations. 

You yelped as Sebastian climbed on top of you, not breaking the onslaught of his desperate, wet, open-mouthed kisses on your poor neck. He wedged his knee in between your legs, prying them apart. A mewl tore out of your mouth as he nipped on your neck, suckling on the spot and leaving a blooming, purplish red mark on your once unblemished skin. Sebastian growled as he began unbuttoning your blouse while you sat up to meet his lips in yet another fiery kiss, ridding him of his top as well with shaky, eager hands. 

Sebastian yanked the undone clothing off your frame, baring you topless before his hungry gaze. He attached his mouth on your chest right below your clavicle while you straddled him, his arm wrapping around your waist in response to keep you firmly in place. Voluntarily, you maneuvered your hips in a slow, grinding manner on the painfully obvious tent on his pants, earning a pleasured hiss from the brunette as your lips descended upon his, tongues melding with each other in an open-mouthed kiss.

“F-Fuck (Y/N)...!” he panted in between exchanges of depraved kisses, gripping your waist as you pushed yourself down harder on him, controlling the movement of your hips to a faster pace. You let out a shaky groan, feeling the agonizing texture of your growingly wet undergarments sticking on your sensitive core. The aching between your legs grew hot and unbearable, and this was barely even the start of the sheer debauchery the both of you were going to partake in for the night.

Sebastian left a trail of kisses downwards from your lips all the way to your chest while removing your bra in the process. Your chest heaved in pleasure as he took one of your nipples to his mouth, swirling his tongue on the sensitive nub while his other free hand pinched and twisted the other. A cry of pleasure erupted from your bitten-red lips as he gently gave the nub a gentle bite and soothing the pain off by smoothing his tongue and giving it a teasing suck. Sebastian smirked as you let out another loud moan while he gave your other nipple the similar brutal yet pleasurable treatment. At this point, he felt his pants getting soaked from the outside, causing his still concealed member to twitch in anticipation as he felt beads of precum leaking from his tip. Despite the layers of clothing still separating your core from his member, he still felt how deliciously wet you are for him, and he wondered how soaked you truly are beneath all that remaining clothing left. The thought alone made him salivate.

He liked this. He liked having this particular sort of power over you - you had no choice but to just keep taking all the pleasure he’s inflicting upon your sensitively submissive body. A sense of impatience soon took a hold of him, causing him to throw you on the bed, frantically unbuttoning your pants and pulling the garment off your body harshly. Your face flushed in shame at the sudden exposure, instinctively shutting your legs close. A glint of possessiveness was evident in Sebastian's eyes as he pried your legs apart, staring at your translucent, soaked-through undergarments. 

Your heart was thrumming frenziedly in your chest both out of embarrassment and want, covering your poor blushing face as Sebastian peeled the last remaining article of clothing away from your body. He firmly kept your legs apart as he brought his face closer to your wet aching core, watching it clench around nothingness. Sebastian's brain was completely fried, taking in both the heady scent and lewd sight of your most delicate spot. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” he rasped, spreading the lips of your pussy before licking a long, wet stripe along your slit. Your back arched, your mouth hanging ajar in a silent moan as heightened pleasures consumed your being for the very first time.

“So fucking sexy.” 

Lick.

“So fucking good for me.”

Sebastian kept murmuring praises in between licks, the sinful sounds of slurping, mewls, and groans filling the room as he licked up your honeypot like a starved man. Your legs trembled as he continued his relentless actions, alternating from licking and prodding at your weeping hole using solely his tongue. You felt a single digit rub against your slit, coating itself with your essence before slipping inside your cavern.

However, you let out a hiss of pain, causing Sebastian to abruptly stop. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. The question itself made you blush.

“I don’t really know how to say this but...”

“But...?”

“... It’s my first time, so...” you meekly said, avoiding eye contact from the half-naked male in front of you. Sebastian's eyes widened in realization.

Oh. You’re a virgin.

That fact alone caused a switch to flip within the male as his eyes darkened with carnal desire.

Animalistic, feral thoughts consumed Sebastian as he spat on your hole aggressively, the lewd action causing you to whimper in delight. He slowly reinserted his finger inside your tight hole, his hot breath fanning over your clitoris as he partook an experimental lick on the sensitive bud. You writhed instinctively, a pleasantly fiery and toe-curling sensation coursing through your veins as you sobbed in pleasure. The mild pain was slowly subsiding as your body responded to the intensity of his foreplay. You were absolutely dripping, and the sheets you laid on now had a wet patch of your juices. One of your hands attempted to grip Sebastian's hair to pry him off your delicate spots, but he had caught your wrist before you could do so, pinning it down on the bed harshly as he continued the deliciously brutal abuse of your pussy and clitoris using his fingers and tongue. He inserted another finger, groaning at how tight your walls felt around his digits. 

Oh, to have his cock inside you - the thought alone made Sebastian rut his hips while he relentlessly flicked his tongue against your sensitive pearl.

Your throat felt dry as you moaned uncontrollably, tears prickling your eyes as your pleasure-driven sobs and cries egged Sebastian to his hasten his pacing, causing your insides to twitch in profane delight. He curled his fingers upwards and suckle on the ball of nerve, occasionally swirling his tongue around it. Your legs began to shudder violently at the frenzy of pleasure coursing through your stimulated body, your toes curling as you cried pathetically, begging Sebastian to slow down his ministrations - a request which fell into deaf ears.

And just like that, you had your very first orgasm. 

Tremors coursed throughout your body as you came down from your high as Sebastian slowly retracted his fingers from your pussy, staring into your eyes as he licked the soaked digits - a sight that made your already abused pussy clench wantonly. He got off the bed, his hands reaching for the waistband of his pants as he unbuttoned it, pulling the article of clothing off along with his underwear. Your eyes remained fixed on his as he climbs back on top of you, resting your eagle-spread thighs on his as he prodded the blunt head of his cock on your virgin hole. You gasped at the sensation as he teasingly rubbed the tip along your slit, juices trickling down from your hole. Curiously, you looked down at his appendage with bleary, pleasure-filled eyes.

Oh Merlin. He's fucking girthy.

You swore you almost drooled at the sight despite the worry at the back of your mind if his cock would even fit in your tight virgin hole. Sebastian leaned in for an oddly gentle kiss despite his prior eagerness and vigor. He languidly licks and suckles on your tongue, grinding his cock on your bare pussy as he groped one of your breasts and trailed his other hand on your thigh. You felt so fucking sensitive under him, your body twitching in delight as you received his raw, carnal adoration. 

Sebastian, however, was having second thoughts deep down hence the sudden gentleness. He was sure his cock was going to fucking break you with how insanely tight you are, and he didn’t want both of your first times to just be about his own pleasure alone. With how utterly feral he was in the moment, he doesn’t trust himself enough to not go ballistic the moment his cock is completely sheathed within your warmth. Prying his lips away from yours, he nuzzled the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent.

“Get on top of me,” he whispered, giving a brief peck on the damp, sweaty skin of your neck. Sebastian sat beside you, his back leaning against the headboard of the bed, snaking an arm around your waist as you straddled him. The both of you gazed at each other, eyes filled with both lust and love, leaning in for another breathy exchange of kisses.

“I love you, (Y/N). I love you so fucking much.”

Sebastian’s frantic, whispered confession against your lips made your heart soar as you sighed against his plump lips, cupping his cheek as he stared into your (e/c) eyes.

“I love you too, Seb. I’m all yours. Only yours.”

Sebastian hummed in response as he nuzzled your neck. He reached for his thick, leaking appendage as you raised your hips, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to stabilize yourself. He spat on his hand and coated his member with his saliva before rubbing the glistening red tip along your slit to further lubricate it as much as he could. He looked up at you, while you meekly nodded in approval. He positioned the head towards your hole while you lowered yourself slowly, engulfing him within your delicate, wet flower.

You gasped in both pain and pleasure as his cock split you open, burying itself inside your pussy inch by inch while Sebastian’s breath quickened, his hands gripping your hips almost painfully as his self-control threatened to slip away with how heavenly your walls felt. His eyebrows furrowed in both concentration and intense pleasure - it took all of his remaining willpower to not thrust himself up into your warm, inviting hole as he peppered your exposed skin with kisses, mapping his hands across every inch of your exposed skin as he steadied his breathing. You let out a cry of pleasure the moment you buried his cock all the way to the hilt, his smooth tip kissing your cervix.

You gave an experimental roll with your hips, causing a whimper to erupt from your lips while Sebastian’s breath hitched in response, bringing his hands to grip the curves of your ass. He guided your hips in a slow, grinding motion, allowing you to get accustomed to his size. The initial burning sensation of the intrusion was melting away as your body succumbed into the pleasure, your juices flowing from your hole the more stimulation you received. You reached for your clitoris, gently rubbing it as you threw your head back, gasping at the amplified sensations that made your thighs quiver in delight.

Sebastian bit his lip at the sight of you pleasuring yourself while he guided your hips, the shameless image burned in his memory for good. You started bouncing up and down his cock - a telltale sign that the pain had already dissipated as you began to lose yourself into lustful desire. Instinctively, he bucked his hips up, earning an eager whine  followed by a string of pleasure-drunk babbles from your lips as you rubbed your clit harder.

“Oh f-fuck! You feel so good. Please, please- Just like that...!”

Despite your wanton pleas, Sebastian lifted you off his lap, causing you to whine at the absence of his cock inside you. You were suddenly pushed down the mattress rather harshly, a gasp escaping from your lips as Sebastian grabbed one of your ankles, throwing your leg above his shoulder while his other hand had two of your wrists pinned right above your head. He slammed his cock back inside your pussy, the both of you groaning in unison at the delicious friction. 

Passionate moans spilled from your lips as Sebastian rammed his hips  against yours, setting a viciously mind-melting pace. The squelching sounds of your bodily fluids alongside the repetitive slapping of wet skin caused your head to spin in delight, your mind in a mania of sinful indulgence. You were utterly helpless and at his mercy, and you fucking loved it. Sebastian's eyes drank the sight before him: your naked body covered with a sheen of sweat, skin littered with multiple hickeys, bitten-red lips, a fucked-out expression, and your legs spread out nice and wide just for him. Only him.

Sebastian freed your wrists, leaning back as his fingers grazed against your swollen-red pearl, rubbing it in circles. A high-pitched whine bubbled from your lips as your hands gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white. As soon as he started the onslaught of his rough thrusts once again, your mind blanked out as his cock head brushed against a certain, spongy spot within your pussy. 

“Fuck! R-right there!” you cried out, your chest heaving in desperation as you clawed at his arm. Your thighs began to quiver once again, causing Sebastian to smirk knowingly as your eyes rolled back in sheer unadulterated bliss. 

“Please, please- oh fuck, Sebastian!” you babbled, drool trickling down your chin mindlessly as your remaining bits of sanity began to slip away. Sebastian chuckled darkly at your depravity, leaning forward to brutally assault your poor neck with marks once again.

“Go on, pretty girl. Cum for me,” he groaned against your ear, causing a high-pitched moan to suddenly erupt from your throat. Your walls tightened around his member as he growled, rubbing your clit as you rode your high. Globs of your essence spilled from your hole, coating Sebastian’s cock with a translucent, milky substance. 

Despite just having your release, Sebastian was still slamming his cock in and out of your hole, chasing his high while continuing with the abuse of your sensitive spots. Your eyes rolled back as one of his hands wrapped around your neck in a gentle grip, broken whimpers escaping your lips. Sebastian groaned as you gasped for air while tears of pleasure ran down your flushed cheeks - the debauched image of you so utterly broken and cock-drunk solely for him caused his member to twitch inside you as he quickened his pace, tipping him closer and closer to the edge.

“F-fuck, I’m close! Where do you want it?” he hissed through gritted teeth. You pulled him closer, resting your forehead against his as you locked your legs around his waist. He groaned, gazing straight into your eyes as he approached his climax, burying his cock all the way inside your pussy.

Sebastian let out a long, guttural moan, his eyes never leaving yours as his shaft spurted his seed deep inside you. Your walls clenched and twitched as Sebastian slowed his pace, milking any remaining globs of his cum from his cock. The both of you were panting, foreheads pressed together and staring each other with fucked-out yet loving expressions. 

Sebastian reluctantly pulled his now softening member out of your hole, causing you to mewl in response. He laid down beside you, the both of you staring at the ceiling, panting in exhaustion. You felt his hot cum trickle down from your wrecked hole, causing you to blush in realization at what had transpired between you both. 

Shyly, you glanced at Sebastian, who was still panting slightly, a satisfied grin plastered on his face. He got up, giving you a peck on the forehead, before heading towards the bathroom while you remain in your spot. Sebastian returned from the bathroom with a wet towel at hand, voluntarily wiping any filth away from your prior activities with him while looking at each other with adoration. You intended to at least fix the sheets for the both of you. However, a painful sensation coursed through your inner thighs as you tried to move.

“...Uh, Seb? Could you please pass me my wand?” you asked, feeling guilty that you couldn’t be much of service to him in this little aftercare session. Sebastian quirked an eyebrow - your wand was right at the bedside table not far from you. You felt your face burn as he gives you a questioning look, silently demanding for an explanation for your peculiar request.

“... I can’t feel my legs.”

[maybeiwasjustjade]

Upcoming ACOTAR fics: Nameless Verse

A three-part series about Koschei’s War and after, starring Eris Vanserra and Azriel (Azris x OC with a twist) ft Nesta Archeron, Lucien, and Tamlin

Blurb:

Millenia after Prythian was born from burning fire and starlight ice, eight year old Eris Vanserra was roused from sleep by a girl falling out of his bedroom wall. High Fae, like him. One who spoke in a language long forgotten, and bore a name and a strange mark on her brow from legends old.

What is given must now be returned.

Magic has receded across Prythian. The magic of the High Fae wanes in the eleventh hour as the shadow of Death’s wings spread across the continent. Monstrous creatures stalk every court. The Middle is now nothing more than an executioner’s ground for magic. Every seer from the highest peaks of Montesere to Elain Archeron to the charlatans that roam the Human Lands, have prophesied the end is here.

The heir of Night’s rounded ears bred true—the boy cannot inherit his father’s magic. The fate of the Night Court is no longer guaranteed, and rumor has it that something far more sinister hounds the High Lady’s steps. Lady Death finds herself haunted by visions of a crown of stars, and a long-forgotten destiny determined from the moment of the world’s conception.

In the far south, walls of thorn have erupted across the entirety of Spring’s border. Soldiers return in droves from their refuge. In the heart of Spring, the pool of starlight ripples. Under the nose of its High Lord, Adriata prepares for war as its princess seek to repay a debt.

Meanwhile, the Shadowsinger finds himself drawn south by the memories of a singular dream over fifty years before: two voices, ruby hair, and sapphire eyes; a great oak where flame-gold flowers bloom. In Autumn, the Heir of Fire finds destiny at his doorsteps. An old promise almost forgotten; a mate left hanging by a glamoured golden thread.

Twilight has set on the West. A hidden gate; an old bargain forgotten to time. An ancient sword awaits the Heir of Fire. The Mother has called for her son to bleed. And only in Death will the Nameless be free.

Kill the sun, let the fire be reborn in ashes.

[puthyflapps]

I don't even know why I go on the for you part of twitter anymore when it's literally just *crypto scam* *Sydney sweeney and that man* *fight video* *kpop thread* *tsw*ft relationship rumor* *basketball* *right wing psycho* *the same 4 twitter famous people that I don't follow*. It does not matter how many times you select not interested. I'm losing my mind

Get like me and just spend your time on this app right here!! Word search gorls make some noise!!! 😤

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The Jade Peafowl (玉孔雀 - Yù kǒngquè)

by Sansy_pansy

There had been a circulating rumor in the jianghu for many years now. A myth, a whispered legend, the townsfolk liked to say. A story one could tell to their children before going to bed of a peerless wandering cultivator who journeyed far and wide on foot, never stopping in a city for long and using their powers to exterminate evil whenever the innocent cry out for help. [...] The folks had deemed it befitting to give the person a title, as with all other famous individuals within the jianghu. They were called…

The Jade Peafowl.

Bianfu Mountain, one of the five most famous cultivation sects, had been in mourning for a decade. For years, the Peak Lords had maintained a fragile peace - barely hanging on by a thread because of the death of their beloved xiao bianfu, their Little Bat Damian Wayne. What would happen, however, once they all discovered the devastating truth that Sect Leader Bruce Wayne had been hiding from them?

And what did this mean for Damian Wayne himself, who had been wandering the jianghu during all this time as a rogue cultivator with an infamous reputation, expelled from his father's sect and believed his martial siblings hated him?

Words: 3468, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Xianxia danmei AU (ft. Damian and his shixiong harem)

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne, Background & Cameo Characters

Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne, Jason Todd/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Batfamily Members & Damian Wayne

Additional Tags: Rating May Change, Warnings May Change, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Heavy Angst, Angst and Feels, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, slowest burn you have ever seen from me specifically, Alternate Universe, Xianxia, Inspired by MXTX | Mòxiāng Tóngxiù Works, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Fake Character Death, Pining, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Damian Wayne, Miscommunication, Jealousy, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive Tim Drake, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Dick Grayson, Possessive Jason Todd, Possessive Tim Drake, everybody wants a piece of damian, damian's harem wants to own him, Not Actually Unrequited Love, no beta we die like robins, Eventual Happy Ending, Complicated Relationships, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Bottom Damian Wayne, Batfamily-centric (DCU), Hurt Damian Wayne, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/46781068

[thrythlind]

Lheru, Hengeyokai Druid

Hair like willow leaves drapes down over a dusky face, traces of autumnal yellow or a deep vernal green touching about the dark, wintery black. The strands are pulled back and tied away from the face in a messy bundle reaching down to her shoulders. A few stray bangs inevitably escape, draping loosely to the middle of her right cheek where a strange swirling blue triskelion mark sits. A long thin scar cuts across from her chin to her hairline half an inch above her ears. The blue mark, more a glossy birthmark than a tattoo, seems unmarred by this old injury. Hands and arms tattooed with cherry blossoms fall back to her side and yellow eyes speckled with tiny dots of emerald green here and there opened to look out on the passing terrain.

"My name is Lheru. Where I come from, they would call me hengeyokai. Shiftling would do in your tongue." The voice is silk-smooth as the sound of wind drifting through the leaves and across the surface of a river. All softened by delicately woven threads. "I'm seeking… answers."

Her thoughts drift to the mark and the scar that had tried and failed to ruin it. Her parents had reacted with such fear, and yet it was not a mark anyone else she'd met in her homeland recognized aside from rumors that had brought her further east, to the edges of this land call Oerik.

"In the meantime, I hope to be of aid and help," she explained. "Pay back some of the debt my parents accrued over time." She smiles and reaches over to ruffle the fur of the large white fox that lies beside her.

Lheru is a child of a human woodcutter and a spider-spirit. Not an unheard of origin, but as she came to her fifteen birthday, a symbol started appearing on her cheek. Her parents were concerned, even fearful as the symbol became distinct over the next few months, and at one point even tried to cut it away... which was when she ran.

Since then, she's learned that her parents may have treated her well (until the mark on her face appeared) but they apparently weren't the nicest of people to anybody else. She began to understand why they lived off in a shack by themselves. She decided to head off and go somewhere far away from either of her parents and make something of her own life.

Meanwhile the scar of where her parents tried to cut symbol away didn't not stop the symbol from repairing itself.

Image from Nioh 2, I used their character creator.

It's been a while since I messed around with DnD 3.5e

Str: 13 Dex: 15 (17) Con: 13 Int: 15 Wis: 16 Cha: 11 Native Outsider

HP: 9 AC: 16 (Leather, Heavy Wooden Shield, Dex), Hybrid form: 17 Speed: 30ft

Animal Type: Spider (uses Monkey Stats) Hybrid Form: +4 Climb checks, +2 Dex Animal Form: Tiny, 30ft Speed, Climb 30ft, AC: 14, Bite 1d3-4 Str 3, Dex 15, Con 10

Languages: Common, Hengeyokai, Goblin

Skills - Concentration 4 (+5) - Craft (Weaving) 2 (+4) - Diplomacy 2 (+4) - Handle Animal 2 (+4) - Hide 1 (+3, Hybrid +4) - Knowledge (Nature) 2 (+6) - Listen 1 (+5) - Move Silently 1 (+3, Hybrid +4) - Spot 1 (+5) - Survival 4 (+9) - Swim 2 (+3)

Feats: - Aberrant Mark (Pass Without Trace)

Animal Companion: "Fog-on-the-River" Large White Fox (Wolf stats) - HD: 2d8+4, HP: 13 - Str 13, Dex 15, Con 15, Int 2, Wis 12, Cha 6 - Speed 50ft - AC: 14, Touch: 12, Flat-Footed: 12 - Initiative: +2 - Trip, Low-light vision, scent, Track, Weapon Focus (bite) - Fort +5, Ref +5, Will +1 - Hide +2, Listen +3, Move Silently +3, Spot +3, Survival +1* - Bite +3 melee (1d6+1) Wild Empathy Nature Sense

Leather Armor Heavy Wooden Shield Shortspear (1d6) Holly and Mistletoe Wooden Holy Symbol/Druidic Focus Backpack 50 ft Silk Rope Traveler's Outfit Weaver's Tools Spell Component Pouch (Druidic Flavor) Journal Inkpen Vial of Black Ink

4 Gold, 9 Silver

[leovevo]

closed starter for @rumorwalsh​.

“i can’t help but think about riverdale when i’m seeing, like, cheerleaders,” leo admitted, sipping on his cola. “like, y’know that one episode when they sang cherry bomb? it was so weird and oversexualized.” this was most definitely a topic he shouldn’t be dipping his toes in right now, because there were actual high school students cheering and jumping across from them. "they’re mad good, though. when i was in high school i was a fuckin’ nerd. cheerleaders and jocks were scary to me.”

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy getting hitched day! 1.9k, (sort of) ft. this

Most days of the year, Sam's the optimist.

It doesn't usually fall on Dean to keep the spirits up in times of war anymore. Or worse, loss. And Dean, well, he thinks himself as enough of an in-the-moment kinda guy to not wallow when everything's not going to shit, right friggin' then.

Sam, on the other hand?

Beacon of light when there's a little Hell to raise, harbinger of hope when there's a God to defeat.

And losing his shit entirely when there's an aisle to walk down, leading to the girl of his dreams and the best decision of his life.

"Dean."

Dean fusses around Sam in compact little semicircles fixing his already perfect tux, while his brother panics in a way Dean only remembers from before the kid stopped having to look up at Dean.

But he's looking down at Dean now, wide-eyed and sweaty like the very first time Dean saw him off on a date when he was fourteen — with supple, bullshit eighteen-year-old advice, he bets — and thirty eight year old Sammy is, clear as day, losing his shit.

"Yeah?" Dean channels all the calm he's got into it.

"What if I forget my vows?"

"Well," Dean lifts his eyebrows, and picks up a linen thread from Sam's shoulder that caught his eye. "First of all, would kinda serve you right for writing six pages worth of them."

"Stop being a —"

"Front and back, Sammy. Front and back."

"Dean." Sam glares, more indignant than mad. Dean rolls his eyes, and Sam continues, replacing the look immediately with a troubled one that reflects the dilemma in his voice. "I mean, I've learned them, of course. At least I think I have — I practised twice last night, once this morning — but what's to stop me from fumbling, or forgetting —"

"Your gigantic nerd brain?"

"This is serious." Sam frowns, levelling another look at Dean like he's the one with the stellar proverbial cold feet. "Jerk."

"Bitch." Dean throws back immediately, and pauses in his shuffling around for effect. "Also, no. No, it isn't." And Sam goes to argue with a bitchface already surfacing, but Dean keeps going, sterner, more confident. This is something he's been doing all his life. He can probably talk the kid down from a panic high like this in his sleep. "And you're going to stop being a dumbass, and listen to what I'm saying."

"'M not a dumbass." Sam mutters.

"Yeah, you are." Dean shrugs, completely nonchalant, and Sam laughs in spite of himself, nervous, but a welcome improvement as he waits for Dean to proceed. (Big brother voice never lets Dean down.)

He's still got it.

"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get out there," Dean continues, smiling now. "You're going to hold Eileen's hand while the minister marries you. And approximately ten to fifty minutes later, when he asks you to, you're going to look into her eyes, and you're going to say your vows. All stupid six pages of them, verbatim, 'cause I know you, and you're going to that's why."

"They're not stupid."

Dean hums in consideration, then smirks. "There's bravery in acceptance. They probably are."

"Cas called them exquisite." Sam crosses his arms, and Dean uses the opportunity to pick up a hair from his sleeve with a disapproving look.

(Dean had offered to give him a haircut seventeen times and gotten turned down, and now Sam was shedding.)

"Yeah, well, he's a walking-talking scrabble board with good manners, what is he supposed to do?" Dean rolls his eyes but instead of the expected response of Sam snarking back at him, bitchfacing him or something, Sam sighs.

The air thickens with something that's probably a bigger deal than having to wing a couple paragraphs of page three of the vows.

Dean watches Sam fidget with the buttons on his cuff.

"How did you know, Dean?" Sam asks, subdued, after a pause. "How did you know that Cas wasn't — that Cas wasn't making a horribly wrong decision."

Dean's almost halfway to making a joke about the other shoe but he stops himself.

Because this?

This, he gets.

This feeling of thinking — knowing — you're not good enough, that you aren't right for the one you love, that you're somehow deceiving everything that your life has stood as proof of, in allowing someone else to bind themselves to you, forever, when you know that everyone who's ever meant something to you has lost, and died, and hurt.

And that is exactly why he also knows what to say.

"Because I trust him, Sammy."

Sam's eyes start glazing over. "I trust her too. I just, I'm just so scared —"

Dean winces at his words.

(That's Sam, but it's Sam in Dean's shoes. It was Dean's job — for better or for worse — to keep him safe. And he's failed, failed repeatedly, and now Sam — well, he's as broken as Dean.)

"I love her too much for anything to go wrong, Dean, and something — no, everything, always goes wrong." Sam grits his teeth, and Dean puts his hand on Sam's shoulder.

Squeezes. "I get it. I swear to you, I do. But I also promise that you might regret the things we've done, and the things that have been done to us, but you're never going to regret this."

Sam nods jerkily, eyes downcast.

"And I get being scared. Hell, I was more scared than you the entire week, dude. But you know how — and why, I pushed through?" Sam looks up again. "Because at the end of all of this, there's something more important than the promises of eternal happiness, and forever, and the Celine Dion lyrics I know you've stuffed in your vows. There's them. The ones we love."

Dean swallows.

"And who love us too, because our fucked up heads be damned, I've seen the way she looks at you, Sammy." Sam's face breaks into a small, wet smile. "So you better believe she does."

"I do." Sam slowly nods, again, eyes brimmed with tears.

(Probably about to start spilling. The only consolation for Dean is that at least his tears don't fall. Means as long as he doesn't mind a blurry view of everything, he might as well ignore their existence like he means it.)

"There, was that so hard?" Dean laughs instead, although it's weak until Sam joins in, surprised, and only then registering the words he just spoke.

"Thank you, Dean."

Is all he says, and anything Dean might've wished to say (or wisecrack) back at him is dismissed immediately because he's being pulled into a full Winchester hug by his door-sized little brother, and all he can do then is hold onto Sam as tight as he's holding him, and hold on.

(Because they made it.

They found free will, they found love, and they found their happy ending.)

Because Sammy's getting married today.

And they don't just get to be okay anymore. They get to be happy.

Sam doesn't pull back from the hug for at least a whole minute, but Dean doesn't mind, because the tears welling up in his eyes are gone when he finally smiles at Dean, earnest. "I'm —" He starts to say, but gets interrupted by Cas walking up to them with a cluster of carnations in his hand, wearing a rich navy blue tux (the same as Dean's) and a wide smile.

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything," Cas beams, knowing exactly what he walked in on, and Sam shakes his head courteously while Dean battles the weirdly overwhelming need to kiss him right there — Cas is almost ridiculously beautiful when he's happy.

(He doesn't, though.

Cause he and Sam may've just had a moment but it's not like that means he'd be any less likely to be a pain in the ass about urgently requiring brain bleach and therapy, if Dean did.)

Cas carries on.

"Actually, Eileen's friend, Cara, brought her flowers and she suggested I should bring some to you."

"A corsage." Dean realizes out loud, beginning to grin at once, while Sam resorts to ducking his head like an overgrown teenage girl on her way to prom. Doesn't mean that Dean absolutely doesn't put on his best chickflick Dad voice (after he's taken over pinning the flowers to Sam's pocket from Cas, cause he was doing it wrong) and pat the corsage when he says, "Get 'er home by ten."

"The dynamics of that are all wrong." Sam points out with a traditional Sam smirk, and yeah, he's okay.

"The dynamics of your face are all wrong."

"Great comeback, yeah." Sam snorts, and Cas smiles. "Points for effort. I think."

"Whatever, you're the one wearing flowers right now."

"Dean, you wore an ascot on our wedding day."

"Ascot trumps flowers!"

"No, it doesn't." Sam bitchfaces, and Dean turns to Cas, and —

"No, it doesn't."

And Sam lets out a victorious "Hah!", and high-fives a (only slightly) confused looking Cas before pulling him into a sasquatch-sized hug as well, while Dean rewards the entire ordeal with a heartfelt eyeroll and absolutely doesn't look on at two of the most important people in his life while he pretends to be bristled about being ganged up against on his special day as Best Man.

Cas and Sam separate sooner than Dean and he did, and just in time for Jack to poke his head out the church door and remind them they're ready.

Then, Cas leaves to get Eileen, with another big smile and a signed Congratulations at Sam, and a fleeting cheek-kiss for Dean.

Then, Sam and Dean get in position behind the door and Sam refixes his tie.

(Then, Dean has to stage-whisper "Jack!" about seven times before the kid realizes he's being cued — the band had just started playing, he makes it a point to try to explain to Dean afterwards — and the great, wooden doors finally swing open to reveal a beautiful white aisle, and dozens of their friends and family smiling from both sides of it.)

And then, Dean finally walks the kid he's raised and the brother he's saved the World with countless times, down the aisle.

*

(Sam only messes up once in his vows. It's the last verse of Thank You, by Celine Dion.

Rumor has it, it was intentional.

Something about the first time they met.

Dean tells Sam, "You're welcome", the next time he sees him.)

[thecreaturecodex]

Mater Cachinnarium

"Truce?" © deviantArt user damie-m, accessed at his gallery here

[People who have been following the Monster Girl Summer project may have noticed that there are a few plot threads being developed alongside the big Mormo vs. Lamashtu plot. This entry ties into the sample beldam NPC and Mad Maddy Maddison]

Mater Cachinnarum CR 12 CE Outsider (native) This woman is lean and ashen-skinned, with clawed hands and jagged, saw-like teeth. Her face seems perpetually fixed in a cruel smirk.

Mater Cachinnarum is the Mother of Sneers, a notorious bogey of eastern Garund. Her wicked braying laughter is heard everywhere from bustling cities to isolated oases, and always shortly after a mutilated body or two turns up. Even more destructive than her serial killing is her delight in framing others for her crimes. She is adept at stoking paranoia and hatred, and those that escape her attacks may become scapegoats for the next murder she commits. Rumor has it that anyone executed for a crime she committed hears her laughter as they die.

The Mother of Sneers was not born a bogeyman, nor even properly born at all. She is the brainchild of a wizard named Valinus Trent. Trent was the sole survivor of an Aspis Consortium expedition into the heart of the Mwangi Expanse, and while attempting to find safety found themselves in the clutches of the beldam Mancinia Spurge. Spurge played the good host for a time before tormenting Trent and eventually trapping their soul in a black sapphire. Mater Cachinnarum is essentially a projection of the darkest parts of Trent’s psyche, their disdain for less intelligent people and fear of being bullied magnified into a shadowy murderer.

Mater Cachinnarum both resents and kowtows to Spurge, as if the gem is broken, the Mother of Sneers will immediately cease to exist. Thus, between her personal projects, Cachinnarum serves Spurge as an assassin and recruiter. Mater Cachinnarum desires an apprentice; her previous apprentice was the dark dancer Mad Maddy Maddison, who escaped her about a year ago. Mater Cachinnarum occasionally torments Maddy with nightmares, but doesn’t want to kill her—she has something much crueler planned. The Mother of Sneers is waiting a few years for Maddy to become established and develop friendships, only to murder everyone Maddy cares about and frame her for those crimes.

Mater Cachinnarum      CR 12 XP 19,200 Bogeyman variant tulpa CE Medium outsider (augmented fey, native) Init +9; Senses low-light vision; Perception +23 Aura deepest fear (30 ft., DC 28)

Defense AC 28, touch 26, flat-footed 21 (+9 deflection, +6 Dex, +1 dodge, +2 armor) hp 127 (17d6+68); terrible rejuvenation 5 Fort +11, Ref +16, Will +13; +4 vs. mind influencing effects DR 15/cold iron; SR 21

Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee 2 +1 claws +15 (1d8+2/19–20) Psychic Magic CL 17th, concentration +26 20 PE—burst of adrenaline (1 PE), burst of insight (1 PE), create mindscape (5 PE), ego whip I (3 PE, DC 22), foster hatred (5 PE, DC 24), levitate (2 PE), mind probe (4 PE, DC 23), paranoia (3 PE, DC 22), possession (5 PE, DC 24) Special Attacks sneak attack +6d6, striking fear Spell-Like Abilities (CL 16th; concentration +25) Constant—detect thoughts, tongues At will—darkness, gaseous form, ghost sound (DC 19), invisibility, suggestion (DC 22) 3/day—crushing despair (DC 23), hold person (DC 22), quickened phantasmal killer (DC 23) 1/day—nightmare (DC 24)

Statistics Str 12, Dex 23, Con 18, Int 17, Wis 16, Cha 29 Base Atk +8; CMB +9; CMD 36 Feats Dodge, Great Fortitude, Improved Critical (claw), Improved Initiative, Magical Aptitude, Mobility, Quicken Spell-Like Ability (phantasmal killer), Spring Attack, Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +16, Bluff +29, Diplomacy +22, Disable Device +16, Escape Artist +19, Intimidate +32, Knowledge (local) +17, Perception +23, Sense Motive +23, Spellcraft +17, Stealth +29, Use Magic Device +23; Racial Modifiers +4 Intimidate, +4 Stealth Languages Aklo, Common, Necril, Undercommon; tongues SQ creator link, sustained by thought, variant tulpa Gear dead man’s headband, bracers of armor +2, amulet of mighty fists +1, wand of acid arrow, 700 gp

Special Abilities Creator Link (Su): A tulpa has a special link with its creator or a creature that it treats as its creator. By concentrating for 1 minute, the tulpa can sense the direction and relative distance of its creator, as long as they are both on the same plane. Deepest Fear (Su) A bogeyman is cloaked in a 30-foot aura of fear. This aura manifests as a shifting haze of images that reflect the viewer's deepest fears. The first time it ends its turn within the aura, a creature must make a DC 28 Will save or become shaken for as long as it stays within the aura. If the creature succeeds at the saving throw, it cannot be affected again by the aura for another 24 hours. This is a fear effect. The DC is Charisma-based. Striking Fear (Su) If a bogeyman confirms a critical hit or a sneak attack with one of its claws on a target currently suffering a fear effect, that effect automatically becomes one step more severe (shaken creatures become frightened, frightened creatures become panicked, and panicked creatures cower in fear). A DC 28 Will save negates this increase. In addition, a critical hit from the bogeyman's claw forces any target that has successfully saved against the creature's fear aura to make another Will save against its effects, even if 24 hours have not yet passed. This is a fear effect. The DC is Charisma-based. Sustained by Thought (Su): Tulpas sustain themselves on and gain their power from the mental energy of living creatures concentrating on the tulpa itself. Tulpas do not heal or regain psychic energy naturally. Instead, whenever a living creature spends at least 10 minutes mentally picturing the tulpa, or interacting with it in some way, the tulpa heals 5 hit points and gains 1 point of psychic energy. A creature other than its creator can't provide more than 5 hit points and 1 PE to the tulpa per day with this activity, but its creator can feed its tulpa indefinitely, granting 5 hit points and 1 PE for every 10 minutes she spends in this way, up to the tulpa's maximum hit points and PE. A creature that regularly spends time mentally picturing or interacting with the tulpa may eventually forge a powerful link with the tulpa, and effectively be treated as though she is the tulpa's creator (though this does not supplant the original creator or other creatures treated as the creator by use of this ability). A creature other than the creator that focuses on the tulpa enough to provide it with psychic energy each day for 7 consecutive days must succeed at a DC 20 Will saving throw or forge such a link. Terrible Rejuvenation (Su) A bogeyman gains fast healing 5 while any creature within its deepest fear aura is suffering from a fear effect, including any fear effect created by the aura itself. Each round it gains this fast healing, it also recovers 1 PE. Variant Tulpa Mater Cachinnarum does not have a creator in the sense of a traditional tulpa. Her existence is tied to the gem in which Valinus Trent is trapped in. As long as this gem exists, she returns from death 1 month after slain, but if the gem is broken and Trent is freed, she is destroyed. Mater Cachinnarum does not gain the mental form special quality of a tulpa, and does not gain a racial bonus to skills. Her psychic magic can affect any creature, not just herself and a creator. Her terrible rejuvenation allows her to heal without being in the presence of a creator.

[eggymf-archived]

of paper planes and wildflowers; 02

ft. ominis gaunt with f!reader (series)

chapter warnings: nsfw, semi-public sex, almost getting caught, cunnilingus, fingering, implied squirting, accidental creampie, not proofread, unedited

chapter summary:  scandalous rumors, secret rendezvous, and unsanctioned duels within the castle grounds? oh no, what a mess.

word count: 3.6k

a/n: this was way behind schedule. regardless, enjoy the food i guess.

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3

Eversince the start of your 5th year, Hogwarts has been buzzing with many stories and rumors compared to the previous years. These tales range from being painfully mundane to being the most outlandish story to have ever graced anyone’s gossip-hungry ears. The star of this year’s show, however, is the mysterious 5th year who had just started their schooling this year: almost getting murdered by a dragon or getting targeted by dark wizards isn’t normal for a student, after all. Whilst you also had your fair share of secrets, you’ve always kept it well under-wraps and as far away as possible from the gossip mongers of the school. 

But this time, the filthiest secret you’ve ever had so far has left your reputation hanging by a dainty little thread, ready to snap the moment you step a toe out of line.

“Have you heard about this odd activity that happened within the library recently?” 

Your ears perked up as you overheard Cressida Blume mention one of the cursed places that has been haunting your mind for the last month. You leaned slightly closer, attempting to drown out the violin quartet playing in the background.

“No, I haven’t. But I heard that the portraits there have been talking about it every now and then,” Lenora Everleigh replied to her. “What about it?”

“They’ve been talking about hearing certain activities relating to.... Wait, let me whisper it to you instead. It’s rather... Explicit.”

Cressida leaned to Lenora’s ear, whispering the remaining details while Lenora’s eyes widened more and more by the second.

“Merlin! That’s absolutely scandalous!” Lenora gasped in obvious disapproval.

You were snapped out of your eavesdropping when Natsai’s fingers gave a loud snap right in front of your face. You turned towards her who was giving you a confused look.

“Goodness. It’s not like you to listen to rumors,” she pointed out as she sat beside you. “Must’ve been a huge one to get your attention.”

“I didn’t hear much to be honest. Something about the library?” you asked, flipping through your Charms textbook once again.

“I heard about that one recently,” Garreth chipped in. “Something about some students engaging in some late-night mischief a few weeks ago I think? Not really sure when.”

“Didn’t expect you to be quite a gossip yourself, Garreth!” Natsai laughed.

"Now, now. It's just something I've heard floating about in the common room. The Fat Lady has her way of getting good gossip every now and then," Garreth reasoned, opening a box of every-flavored beans for the three of you to share.

“But that’s kind of normal though, isn’t it? Sallow sneaks into the restricted section a lot, you know,” you said, casually popping a flavored bean into your mouth.

“Ah, but that’s the thing. It’s not Sebastian who is involved. It’s two students doing y'know? That,” Garreth explained cryptically, patting his thigh multiple times in hopes that the both of you got the hint. You choked on the flavored bean, erupting in a mild coughing fit. 

“Wait, don’t tell me it’s what I think it is?” Natsai gasped, putting two and two together. Garreth leaned closer while you and Natsai mirrored his actions.

“The portraits did say that they didn’t manage to see their faces. But it was clear that the two were both doing something quite raunchy near the Transfiguration Section,” Garreth muttered to both you and Natsai. 

“Goodness, what on earth were they thinking?!” Natsai whispered in utter disbelief while you felt a small bead of cold sweat trickle down your temple.

“There’s also another rumor going around about hearing unusual noises from the broom closets every now and then. Others are speculating it’s another one of those couples but I think it’s just Peeves pulling on the caretaker’s leg,” Garreth continued. You paled slightly, recalling your recent activities.

“I sure hope so. What a mess!” Natsai agreed.

“I agree,” you piped in, snapping out of your thoughts. “What a mess.”

“Oh Merlin, please fucking end me right now,” you bemoaned inwardly.

Ominis surprisingly did keep his end of the bargain - it was only the actions that the two of you had done that the portraits of the library knew of, but not a single soul has connected that incident to the both of you. Thanks to his cooperation, everything was back to how it normally was - for the most part, that is. You were still pressured with your OWLs, tagging along into random agendas either with Garreth or Natsai, having your own dangerous silly adventures outside the school grounds, along with a new (and unfortunate) addition to the list: snogging Ominis Gaunt in secret.

It was not your proudest moment, but it is what it is. 

Somewhere deep down, you were most certainly aware that your last words to Ominis on that night would eventually be nulled - it’s just that you hadn’t expected to cave in that easily to him. Every time he pulls you into a random broom closet or in any corner away from prying eyes, your resolve just ends up melting and you give into his whims without a second thought. The both of you never got caught thanks to his impeccable timings, but luck doesn’t stay in one place for long and you feared the dire consequences of it all.

Everything about him was against your own morals and upbringing - he was a pureblood, directly related to Salazar Slytherin himself, and his family members are known to be dark wizards and witches. Meanwhile, both of your parents are muggleborns, with your mother being adopted into a well-off family of half-bloods. Your family members were either members of the Wizengamot or they were Aurors - anything or anyone that could be linked to the Dark Arts was absolutely not tolerated. 

Unbeknownst to you, however, Ominis was also in a similar state of confusion as you were. The young Gaunt prided himself as a well-mannered gentleman with solid principles as opposed to his other blood relatives, yet eversince he had a taste of the forbidden fruit he never thought he’d even acquire in any way, he couldn’t stop yearning to consume more of it. Nevermind the purity of your blood or whatever his impressions were on you: he was more concerned with the fact that the both of you were engaging in activities that only married couples would do. 

The both of you weren’t in love. Hell, you weren’t even friends with him. 

So who were you to him exactly?

Merlin forbid, as much as he didn’t really like you, he wouldn’t go as far as branding you as something derogatory and unsavory. If he ever did, he was most likely too consumed in the throes of passion.

In the past month of your ongoing secret rendezvous with the misty-eyed male, the both of you have never done anything as intense as that fateful night aside from the passionate kisses. After all, it was a lot more difficult to partake in taboo while you were in the right state of mind, but the both of you end up partially succumbing to the sweet temptation every single time. You sighed, rubbing your temples in frustration. 

This has to stop, and you’ll end it all today.

As you were tidying your books and parchment up after Charms class, a familiar paper crane circled around your head before landing on your desk. You grabbed the paper immediately and headed to the back of the classroom, unfolding it secretly.

Clocktower. 3pm.

You flicked your wand at the piece of paper, disintegrating it into tiny dust-like particles.

Ominis has been at the clocktower courtyard for the last hour. It was one of the least rowdy places within Hogwarts unless Lucan Brattleby was organizing another unsanctioned duelling activity amongst his fellow students. According to Sebastian, however, there won’t be another Crossed Wands tournament anytime soon due to many of the secret duelling club’s members being more preoccupied with their academic-related activities. 

To put it simply, this place was most likely where you and him could have a decent conversation - presently, that is. Ominis would rather not disclose his actual hideout to someone he considers as a stranger after all: it was his own sanctuary that only certain people in his already small circle are given privy to, and he intends to keep it that way. The young Gaunt has been giving his current predicament a lot of thought, and in that moment, he has arrived to a sound conclusion.

With the rumors of your mistake with him circulating around in hushed whispers, it was rather obvious what the best solution was to address this problem. After all, Sebastian’s dubious escapades with Skylar Evans, the new 5th year, was already a huge problem on its own. Another source of trouble would be too much for poor Ominis to handle.

“Oh, you’re here early.”

Ah, speak of the devil.

You approached Ominis, who was leaning against the metal railings with his arms crossed. An uncomfortably awkward silence looms over the both of you.

“Listen. I-

“We need to-”

Silence.

You took a deep breath.

“We should stop this,” you breathed out, breaking the stillness of the situation. Ominis nodded and hummed in agreement, listening intently as you poured out your repressed emotions regarding the matter.

“I can’t risk anyone finding out about this. People are already talking about the things we did and we’re on thin ice! My parents would kill me if they found out, so it’s better if we just-”

Ominis’ eyebrows furrowed.

“Shh!”

You gaped at him, scoffing in disbelief at his display of blatant disrespect.

“Did you just--” you were cut off again by Ominis, who shushed you more aggressively. Much to your horror, distinct chatter from multiple students were suddenly getting closer and closer to the wooden door leading to the connecting bridge. In a moment of panic, Ominis grabbed your wrist. He slammed the nearby storage door open and closed it shut once the both of you were out of sight. The both of you stood still in a corner behind several neatly stacked crates that was almost the height of the door. Both your frames are concealed rather well - that is, if anyone else doesn’t bother to enter and scour the room.

“Oi, Leander! Help me out with the training dummies, will you?!” Lucan Brattleby shouted as more and more students poured into the clocktower courtyard.

You felt your cheeks grow red with frustration and embarrassment.

“Really, Gaunt?! We could’ve just walked off!” you hissed angrily.

“And risk letting others find out while you run your mouth?!” he hissed back just as harshly in obvious vexation.

“That doesn’t mean you had to drag me into a storage room!”

“Quiet down, will you?! You’ll get us caught!”

“No, you shut up! I can’t believe this!”

Your hushed bickering with Ominis was stopped abruptly when a particularly loud clatter near the door caused you to squeak in response. You clung onto Ominis’ robes while he instinctively placed both his hands on your waist. Both of your breaths are labored, laced with the evident fear of getting caught. You jolted as you heard the sounds of metal clanging harshly against stone from the other side of the door. Ominis pressed his lips into a firm line, suppressing both his chuckle and a teasing smirk from surfacing on his normally calm demeanor. 

As much as he hated to admit it, you were rather adorable when you weren’t so uptight and composed.

“Would you look at that? Didn’t expect you to be all jumpy about this,” he sneered, causing you to seethingly glare at him.

“Oh, shush! This is all your fault!” you fumed. Deep down, however, you were growing ever so flustered with how close Ominis was.

“Really, now? You seem to be rather comfy in my presence, though,” Ominis scoffed, tapping his fingers on your waist. “I’d say you’re enjoying yourself.”

Before you could push the insufferable male off you, he quickly flipped you over: your back was now against the wall, and his hand was cushioning your head from hitting the hard stone surface while the other remained on your waist. You glared at him half-heartedly.

“Gaunt, I swear. If you-”

He captures your lips with his. You froze on the spot with wide eyes. You felt your rage slowly dissipating as he moved his lips against yours, ensnaring you once again within the warmth of his physical affection. 

“You talk too much,” he breathed against your lips before diving back into the kiss. You whimpered as he presses his body closer to yours while you gently rake your nails against his back.

And just like that, you fell hook, line, and sinker right into his trap once again.

To say that the both of you missed each other's touch was a complete understatement - soft whimpers and pants erupted from your now bitten red lips as Ominis utterly devoured you with sinful vigor. You partook in the addictive taste of his tongue, entangling it with your own as he reached for the clasps of your cloak, deftly undoing it. 

His veined, slender hands reached for your delicate neck, giving it a teasing little squeeze before drifting to your necktie. You felt the fabric loosen as he pulled the knot gently, and the hand that was once cushioning the back of your head was now at the small of your back. Instinctively, you wrapped one of your legs around his waist, earning an appreciative groan from the lithe-framed male. He rolled his hips against your heated core while you pushed your body closer to his as he broke the kiss off. You stared at his moon-like eyes, puffs of hot breath fanning across each other's lips. He rested his forehead against yours before gently leaning in for another kiss.

Gone were your reservations as Ominis began to unbutton your blouse impatiently, pulling the coverings of your chest down to reveal your supple mounds. You whined softly as you felt his wet appendage flick against your stiff peaks while you ran your fingers through his scalp. Ominis moaned against your skin, taking in your sweet, heady scent as he continued to pleasure you with his skilled tongue. 

Featherlight touches trailed down from your heaving chest all the way to your cloth-covered legs, heading right into your inner thigh. Nimble fingers maneuvered itself onto your concealed center, rubbing languid circles. Ominis’ breath hitched as he felt your juices seep through the woolen fabric of your tights. The clear fluid coated the tips of his digits instantly.

A gasp bubbled from your lips when Ominis knelt in front of you, his face dangerously close to your groin. Your eyes widened as you felt your quivering legs being spread further apart. He had wedged himself in between them, scrunching the front of your skirt up as he lightly inhaled the addictive scent of your arousal. His mouth closed onto the wet patch, licking the seeping fluid off the fabric while his thumb traced the seams of your crotch.

Riiiiip!

You let out a squeak as you felt the cool air touch your now exposed, soaked-through knickers. He moved the fabric to the side, while you quivered as you felt your essence dribble from your hole.

“Oh fuuuck...” he breathed against your core, taking in the sweet, musky scent of your exposed pussy. You bit your lip, groaning as you felt his tongue sneak right through your folds. Ominis threw one of your legs over his shoulder while you muffled your mewls of pleasure with your palm. The faint, raunchy sounds of squelches, groans, labored breaths and occasional hums of approval from the male kneeling before you sent your mind into a pleasure-filled haze.

“Oh...! F-fuck yes! Please...!” you whimpered deliriously, grinding your heated center against his face. He suckled on your sensitive little pearl while tracing the outer rim of your hole with two slender fingers. You gasped as he inserted both digits all at once, instantly setting a  mind-melting pace while circling his tongue around your clit. Tremors racked through your limbs deliciously and blood rushed right into your head as you kept receiving waves upon waves of pleasure.

Ominis groaned at the sudden violent tug on his head, yet he persisted with his pace. You felt an oh so familiar burning sensation crawling up from the tip of your toes, creeping up higher and higher as you approach your release.

“P-please..! Don’t stop! O-oh! Yesyesyes…!” 

Your hushed pleas nearly turned into loud cries as he plunged another finger within your weeping hole, still maintaining the same brutal, toe-curling speed. Euphoria surged through your veins, prompting you to cover your mouth as you let out a muffled moan. Ominis groaned as he felt your walls convulse against his digits. A gush of warm, scentless liquid sprayed out from your poor trembling pussy.

The aftershocks of your mind-blowing orgasm had rendered you almost boneless. Ominis’ mind totally blanked out after fully realizing what had just transpired.

A growl rumbled from his chest as he stood up, claiming your lips for a brief moment while squeezing your neck gently. His hand reached for his trousers, undoing the clothing article and slipping them off halfway. You eagerly palmed his painfully erect shaft though his underwear - a sense of cocky pride bubbled within your chest when you brushed against a wet patch on the fabric. Ominis pressed you against the wall, hooking your leg up on his arm while the other freed his swollen member from its confines.

You purred in delight as you felt the blunt tip rub itself along your slit before plunging in completely within a single thrust. Wind was knocked out of your lungs, your eyes prickling with pleasured tears. Ominis nuzzled your neck as he bucked his hips against yours, slowly plowing his member deep within your pussy. His cock twitched against your gummy walls as he rolls his hips languidly, relishing the sensation of your drenched, velvety core.

His thrusts this time around was deliciously slow and deep - it was as if he was savoring you. Your walls were in a complete frenzy: fluttering around his shaft at every thrust and clamping whenever it brushes against your sensitive spot. You gasped dizzily, feeling open-mouthed kisses land itself onto the burning skin of your neck. Ominis had left a trail of blooming love marks all over your neck and chest - a telltale sign that his inhibitions were completely non-existent at this point. 

“Mine,” he rasped, suckling on your clavicle. His words caused a pleasant tingle shoot within your core, causing it to constrict in response. Soft, light-headed giggles spilled from your lips.

You fucking loved the sound of that - being his, and his alone.

Ominis hissed, feeling a familiar bubble forming deep within his groin. The smooth tip repeatedly nudged against your sweet spot within, and your mouth gasped soundlessly as his thrusts became more erratic and harsh.

“F-fuck! I’m close...!” you whined breathlessly, feeling your thighs quiver involuntarily as you approach another high. Ominis’ lips latched itself on yours to muffle your increasingly loud whimpers.

Meanwhile, Lucan Brattleby quirked an eyebrow as he heard shuffling and unknown faint noises coming from the door behind him. The curly-haired boy was bemused - he didn’t recall anyone entering the storage room while the duelling club was doing its usual activities. He knocked on the wooden surface.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

You were snapped out of your drunken state, your eyes now completely wide open. Ominis paid no mind however - in fact, the situation seemed to have flipped a switch deep inside him. He smirked against your lips, thrusting deeper and harder into your core. You pleadingly sobbed, attempting to push the male off you who then pushed his weight on you in retaliation.

The door then swings open, causing Ominis to bury his cock as deep as he could. Your eyes rolled back with tears running down your cheeks as your body succumbed to the filthily shameless pleasure. Your walls constricted and convulsed around his throbbing member, and you felt hot spurts of his seed spill within you. The both of you stood still with bated breath.

Lucan frowned, his eyes scanning across the now deathly quiet room.

“Huh. Must’ve been my imagination,” he muttered, closing the door. 

You hurriedly barged into your room, making a beeline for your bed. Rummaging through the built-in underbed drawer, you pulled out a small phial containing a rose-hued potion. You quickly chugged the liquid down, and hid the empty bottle back into the drawer.

Sighing exasperatedly, you gathered a fresh set of clothes, toiletries, and a towel before making your way to the bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

You shivered as the cold water hit your still heated bare skin, but your mind was still fixated on your little encounter with Ominis. The way he was both gentle yet domineering drove your still hazed-out little head into a state of confusion. You bit your lip, gazing down at the purplish marks that littered your chest. You were sure there were more on your neck too.

"That damned Gaunt..." you cursed half-heartedly as you felt blood rush towards your cheeks.

You recalled the little details of the alabaster-skinned male: his opal eyes, supple skin, the beauty marks on his face, his toned yet elegant frame, deft fingers, kissable lips, irresistible scent...

Ba-thump... Ba-thump...

“No. Absolutely not,” you firmly told yourself, letting the cold water cleanse you from your filth. You let out a faint shuddering moan as you felt a thick warm liquid dribble down your legs. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as the milky globs of his essence made its way down the drain.

Thank Merlin for emergency contraceptive potions.

< chapter 1: liquid luck? or liquid fuck. 🔞

chapter 3: the wingman with wings >

[phykios]

speed write practice ficlet for @darkmagyk, ft generic anachronistic historical fantasy au setting and annabeth dunking on her mom 😚

The greatest indignity of it all was how they didn’t need her to win. 

Lord Jackson’s forces were able to trump the Imperator’s. Handily. The forces that were left, that is–Jackson’s recent victories and storied heroics were enough to turn any man’s coat, and the Imperator was left with a fraction of his army. Not even Athena could have turned the tide.

It was said that Jackson had been seen in the fray, fighting like a demon alongside his men. That was not surprising, as she knew the boy certainly had a flair for the dramatic. No, what was more concerning were the rumors of the woman who fought beside him, a shieldmaiden who fought like a Valkyrie. 

It couldn’t be her daughter. It couldn’t. When Athena left her, she was already visibly pregnant. Surely Lord Jackson wouldn’t risk the life of his heir. Or his supposed great love. 

The Imperator stood with Athena at the gate as they awaited the arrival of Jackson’s procession. She could hear it long before she saw it, great, noisy trumpets and drums and cheers echoing down the streets and alleyways of the city. Soon enough, she spotted his standard bearer, his garish, orange flag fluttering in the breeze, the black horse emblazoned on it seeming to gallop in the wind. 

As they approached, the Imperator’s face never wavered. Athena admired that about her brother. He was no master tactician, nor political strategist, but he was kind, and he knew when to keep it together. 

Lord Jackson dismounted from his black horse, then reached up to help his lady down to the ground. Her stomach was even larger than the last time she had seen her–and… and what in the name of the gods had happened to her hair? 

Where once had been long, golden curls, delicately held in place with flowers and pearls, now there was nothing but a choppy mess, cut at the line of her ears, the silken wisps which had framed her face removed, revealing a new, healing cut on her forehead which threaded her eyebrow. 

Stepping up to the Imperator, Jackson bowed, deep and respectful. “Your highness.” 

Jason acknowledged him in kind, face betraying nothing. The men strode into the castle, Athena and Annabeth following behind, with few enough witnesses that Athena could hiss to her daughter, “What did he do to you?”

Annabeth had assured her, with all the confidence of a kingmaker, that Jackson had only ever acted in her best interest, but if he had harmed a single hair on her head–

“My lady, there is no need for your concern,” she said, coolly. “You know how hair can be an impediment in battle. I thought it was best to remove it.”

So she was fighting, then. Athena’s blood ran hot. “Do you know how irresponsible of you that was? What about your child? What if you had–”

Stopping in her tracks, Annabeth turned to her, glaring. “You do not get to speak on the health of my child, my lady,” she spat. “You gave up that right long before this day, when you refused to acknowledge me. I'll remind you once again, mother, by denying that I was your daughter, you denied my right to the throne. Well, it turns out, I didn't need you. I found my own way to power.”

[stayarmytinyzenmoa-l]

Some Updates (11/6/22)

NCT Masterlist

Added

Dinner for Two Masterlist

Lapis Love Masterlist

*⚲ My Universe | {Non-Idol AU, Villain AU} (Mark x Reader ft. Taeyong) [A, F] | In which you don't think you deserve a man as perfect as Mark.

*⚲ (Friendly) Competition | {Non-Idol AU, University AU} (Doyoung x Reader) [F] | In which you and Doyoung are academic rivals.

Updated:

Witch for Hire Masterlist

Prominence Masterlist/Chronological Masterlist

Added:

*MUPt. 2.66 | 220915 Twitter thread on (Y/N)'s reaction to 2 Baddies

*Pt. 2.67 | 220916 Twitter threads on Yangyang's daughter-ransom scam call

*WCh. 2.68 | 220226 Well, well, well, if it isn't the consequence of (Y/N)'s own actions

*Pt. 2.69 | 220224 NCT Stylist Group Chat concerning missing items ft. an NCThree chat at the end

*WCh. 2.70 | 220226 What's popping with Mark and Yangyang?

*Pt. 2.71 | 220228 Twitter thread TL;DR of all of (Y/N)'s current rumors

*Pt. 2.72 | 221009 Yangyang's B-Day Bbl Updates

*WCh. 2.73 | 220311 (Y/N) gets grounded but fuck it we ball and goes on a date

[obeymeplz]

one of those days ll mammon x gn reader

LISTEN guys... I’ve peeled through every single fanfic and one shot of my boy boy that I can find.

I’m done, finished, kaput. And I need content. So I decided to make my own.

2k words, ft. Belphie my salty homie

Warnings: mean(ish) mammon (because I’m a hoe for angst, highly implicative of smut...?, cussing...?

Enjoy ig ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ sorry if I suck LOL

It was one of those days, and it all began when you dropped your plate of pickled pancakes (it’s an acquired Devildom taste) all over your crisp, white shoes. Beel involuntarily frowned at the waste of food, while the other demon boys snickered at your inherent clumsiness, Lucifer merely rolling his eyes before excusing himself from the table. But someone was missing that morning.

From that moment on, you knew nothing would be going your way.

Your bad luck followed you to second period, where you received a colossal “F” on your scrying test, and then to lunch where Satan and Asmo had to pull you out of a fight with a succubus who had thought it her business to label you a “suck up whore”. This was a name you were used to; from the moment you arrived, every demon and unthinkable hoard in the Devildom believed you to be sleeping with every brother in the House of Lamentation, playing through all of them with zero consequences. Despite the utter falsity of these accusations, they hurt no less every time you had to hear them.

And to top today’s cake with a juicy red cherry, the one single person who could make all your worries melt away with just a smile had been nowhere in your sights all day. Mammon was indeed the sunshine you needed on this dreary afternoon, with his dumb tinted glasses and cocky remarks, yet endearing eyes and wondrous grin.

Staring out the window of an empty chem room, waiting for someone to be available to walk you home, you realized that it was an odd day - such a new world you’d been thrown into, yet so quickly you had familiarized yourself with your new “normal”; and now that normal wasn’t there. There were certain things you knew, day in and day out.

The sun will (sort of) rise.

The sun will (kind of) set.

You live in Hell.

Mammon will always be there.

These things you counted on to be true, because if they weren’t, you weren’t entirely certain how you’d keep your sanity intact.

“For a human who’s supposed to be completely inferior to our kind, you sure do seem to think a lot”.

Belphie.

“Gee, Belphie, you know, “you sure do” have a way with words. Thank you! I just feel so much better”, you scoffed a retort as you swung your legs over the ledge of the window to face the cow-haired boy, clearly having just woken from sleeping through 7th period. He only smirked at you.

“I heard you need a warm body to walk next to, and I figured I could use the company. Home?”

You smiled smally as he helped you to your feet. “Yeah, home sounds nice”.

He reciprocated the smile.

“So, what really has you down in the dumps?”

You shrugged as you tried to formulate a thought that might make sense to him.

“Well… I guess I-”, you had to cut off mid sentence, because something familiar began to tickle your ears — a laugh, one you’d been aching to hear all day.

“Belphie, is that… is that Mammon? Where has he been all day?”, you were asking the question, but your legs were already moving you out the door away from the answer. He replied, but you could only piece together bits as you got further away from him, following the voice of the snow-haired boy instead. Argument, Mammon left, crashed with friends, all night, definitely in trouble. That’s what you processed.

“Mammon-” you rounded the corner, but halted in your tracks, backing behind it when you came near face-to-face with a group of demons much taller and much stronger than you, energies darker than the ones you were used to being surrounded by.

He hadn’t heard you.

“Bro, that was a riot. You gotta swing with us more often my man”.

“Ya know Lucifer wouldn’t even think ‘bout lettin’ me ride with you guys on the day-to-day. ‘Sides, I got things to do”.

“You mean a human to babysit?”, your breath caught in your throat. You heard Mammon scoff.

“No! I do what I want. They’re cool.”

Your heart pounded into your throat (but that’s something you’d never let him know). You were just friends, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever be more. Sure, he was terrible at hiding how much he cared about you, and sure, he was ridiculously possessive over you, but he’s also the Avatar of Greed, so how much of that is him needing you versus his sin needing you? The way you saw it, neither of those things amounted to relationship-worthy love.

The conversation was droning on, and you’d almost forgotten you were listening.

“So, you fuckin that then or what?”

Your head snapped back into full awareness, the tone of your feelings completely changing every second, anxiously awaiting your favorite demon’s reply. Why were you so nervous? He wouldn’t lie about you, he wouldn’t slander your name — not with what people already thought of you because you lived in a giant house with 7 painfully-attractive, desire-filled, and experienced, rulers of Hell.

“Yeah, the rumors true?”

Mammon’s voice came next at a grumble.

He stuttered it.

You almost didn’t catch it.

You must not have.

“Y-yeah. No, I mean absolutely. I mean, how could a human even turn down The Great Mammon? They couldn’t, and they don’t.”

You must not have heard it — but you did, and you almost wished you hadn’t

Before your thoughts could catch up with your limbs, you found yourself rounding the corner yet again. “Yeah, how could they not, Mammon?”, your voice cracking at the end, despite all your efforts to come across smooth and level-headed.

“MC..”, Mammon’s mouth instantly hung open, his chill facade easily melting away. He looked almost identical to a lost puppy within moments.

“Oh you can bet, Mammon fucks me every single night — no feelings involved, because that’s just the kind of big man he is. He’s even fucking me RIGHT NOW. Right, Mon?”, you seethed his nickname through your teeth. Tears were starting to puddle at the lids of your eyes, threatening to expose just how much you really cared for him, and just how unspeakably broken you felt in that moment.

“M-MC. Pl- please don’t —“, he was already approaching you, pushing past the group of boys. You turned on your heel, catching the watching eyes of Belphie at the end of the hall. You ran for him until you were in reach to yank on his arm, pulling him behind you, as fast and as far away from that school, and Mammon, as possible.

“MC!”

Mammon will always be there.

Mammon would not always be there. This was a new truth you heartbrokenly added to your list.

———————————————————-

Your room was icily cold, numbingly so.

You always kept it like that when you were sad, hoping maybe some of the lack of feeling in your body would translate to your heart.

Hoping you wouldn’t feel so shattered.

You trusted him. And he broke it. He broke you.

These are obvious statements, but as you laid solemnly tucked under a heap of blankets, you couldn’t help but run them, and the scene from today, over and over again through your brain.

Maybe you were overreacting?

Mammon had always been the brother, despite his tsundere attitude, who protected you. He never lost his cool with you, and he never treated you poorly. Maybe he made a few callous remarks here and there, but they were gentle underneath, and just his own way of showing you a glimpse of the angel wings he’d lost a long time ago.

Mammon had become your home.

“MC?”

The voice was muffled through the door, but it was undoubtedly him. You weren’t sure if you were shocked, happy, angry, or assured that he had come, but either way, you wouldn’t dare leave your covers to open the locked door. Not yet.

“MC. Please. Open the door. I-I just wanna talk to ya…”

You didn’t budge.

“I will kick this down, ya know”. You were both quiet until you heard some shuffling outside. Your eyes went wide, ready for a foot to come flying through shards of your door. You scrambled to your feet, stumbling over to the rusted knob.

You cracked it open.

“Please don’t. I don’t want to sleep in Beel’s room another week because my room needs renovating for the millionth time.”

Mammon smiled shyly at you, apologetically more than anything.

“Can I.. ya know, come in?”

You pulled out of the way, making just enough room for the tall, lean demon to slip through the crack in your door.

The moment he stepped in, he was engulfed in darkness, nothing but dim threads of moonlight that seeped in through your curtains to highlight the sharp features of his face and body. He’d shed his jacket since earlier, leaving him in his fitted black tee and jeans.

So beautiful.

You mentally slapped yourself for even thinking about it.

You were mad at him.

“So. Please talk. I’m exhausted and wasn’t planning on even looking at you tonight.” You were curt. But you had to be, or else you wouldn’t be able to hold anything back, whether that be anger, or adoration.

He looked taken back — hurt — too. He glanced at your bed and the candy wrappers strewn about the floor. Mammon wasn’t too bright, but he knew enough to know when someone had been crying for well over an hour.

On a normal occasion, he would’ve thrown himself onto your sheets, rolling until he found a comfortable position to scroll his D.D.D. and poke at you for hours.

But tonight, he awkwardly crossed his arms and shuffled his feet, clearly unsure of what to say first — or at all, for that matter.

“I-“

You raised a tired eye, cueing him to spit whatever excuse he could possibly say out.

“I get a bad rep sometimes.”

What?

“For liking ya.. Hanging with ya.”

If this was an apology, it was the worst one you’d ever heard in your life.

“Oh? Sorry. I didn’t mean to be a burden to your bravado. Let me continue to take myself out of the picture.” You pointed at the door for him to leave, ready to break down the moment he walked through.

“No! That- that’s not what I meant.” He made eye contact for a mere moment, silently begging for you to see his sincerity.

“Is anything ever what you mean, Mammon?” The use of his full name in a mix with that tone clearly set him back, but he shook it off hurriedly.

“Yes! I mean, I don’t care. Usually. I’d-I’d just had a rough day with Luci. Rough life, more like, and I was tired of feelin’ like shit ‘bout myself. Nazriel’s question jus’ threw me off. I-I wanted to seem cool, so I said what I knew would make me, and-“

“And you’re a piece of shit for it”.

You weren’t wrong. And he knew that.

“... and I’m a piece of shit for it.”

There was a pause before he hesitantly continued.

“I wound up bein’ exactly what I was tryin’ not to be. Scummy.”

He raised his eyes to meet yours, blue hues morphing into gold flecks like waves crashing on the beach. Your breath hitched and caught in your throat, only now realizing that the whole time you’d been arguing, you’d both been slowly edging together. Now, you were dangerously close.

“You aren’t scummy, Mammon…”, you began to tenderly look at him.

“Yeah.. I am. But that’s just me, I guess. I can’t mind it.”

He took one step, leaving you toe to toe. Though one of the shorter of the boys, he still towered over you.

“I jus’ can’t be scummy to you.”

You tilted your head, heart and body language softening as he spoke.

“I shouldn’t be, and I don’ wanna be”.

His hands cautiously made their way to your shoulders, and you shuddered at the feeling that made its way through your bones.

“Mammon?”

“Yeah?”

“That apology shouldn’t have worked.”

He chuckled, “you’re right.”

You smiled, a true smile. The first one all day. And what came next, you knew probably shouldn’t. But you also didn’t really care.

“Mammon?”

He hummed in response, and you stood as high as you could on your tip-toes to kiss his cheek. His face deeply rouged the moment your lips met his hot skin.

His eyes were wide as you lowered yourself down, leaving a hand lingering on his arm.

In that moment, his aura shifted, and everything was suspensefully still. Within seconds, his arms wrapped you in a crushing hug, his breath heavy and warm behind your ear.

You sunk your weight into his, relishing the relief from the chill of your room, as you snaked your arms behind his back.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you stood like that, but you knew it must’ve been a while, because his grip was starting to affect your breathing.

“Mon- air”,

He lightened up and pulled back from you.

“S-sorry!”

Your lips turned up at the sight of his cute embarrassment. He scowled at you, knowing what you were thinking, but slowly started to laugh.

He leaned his forehead against yours, the sudden proximity causing you to let out a slight squeak.

“Ya drive me nuts, ya know?”

You searched his eyes, trying to make sure he was saying what you really thought he was.

This was a bad idea. For so many reasons.

But truthfully, neither of you gave two shits.

So he ghosted his lips over yours, his left fang biting his bottom, waiting for the sign to move — the sign that you wanted him, the sign that he would be enough.

The second you tilted your nose to the side of his, he crashed his mouth into yours.

From all the “first kisses” with your “first man” that you’d imagined, this was like none of them.

It was so

so much better.

It was fast, it was hard, but it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t brutal. It wasn’t empty. It was a cataclysm of feelings — pent up tension, pent up love.

As he dragged his mouth over yours, he hooked his hands under your legs, lifting you to wrap around him in one, swift movement. Then, he was on the move, backing himself toward your bed until the back of his knees met the mattress, and he collapsed, pulling your legs to straddle his lap. You hadn’t disconnected from his lips the entire time, still fervently needing more of him. You knew he felt the same. The demon of greed would most certainly never have enough of you. He tasted sweet and smelled strongly of an expensive cologne you knew he probably couldn’t actually afford. One of his hands stayed splayed on the top of your thigh, while the other worked to bring you even closer to him (if that was possible), pressing underneath your shirt to the skin on your back, two fingers edging their way into the beltline of your shorts.

He was careful not to take himself too far, to not lose control, and you could tell, so you worked your tongue past his lips. He sucked in a breath as the complete access to your mouth made room for him to deepen his greed for you. Slipping his tongue to meet yours, he nipped at your bottom lip, working his entire mouth in a blissful harmony.

He pulled back, heaving air, seeping desire from every muscle, just enough to speak to you,

“MC… I-I can’t… I can’t handle this... well... for much longer. I don’ know what I’m gonna do to ya…”, he began to pepper wet kisses down your neck, unable to keep himself off you long enough to even hear your reply.

You weren’t sure what else you were expecting, or if you were expecting anything else at all.

You were making out with a demon, after all.

You moved a hand to rake your nails through his frosty hair, and he leaned into the palm of your touch.

“It’s okay. I want you. All of you...”, it was only a whisper, but you were afraid if you spoke too loud, you’d snap the moment in half.

He did nothing but growl before reattaching his lips to yours, bringing his slender fingers to tug up at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m gonna do my best not to hurt ya…” he mumbled on your lips. You simply nodded, running your hands against his abs. He shivered at the contact, before helping you remove his own shirt.

Somewhere in the midst of him sliding on top of you, and the complete sight of the demon boy you had always longed for filling your soul, you heard the faintest of three words. You almost tricked yourself into believing they never entered the air, that they’d never left his lips.

But they were impossible to ignore.

“I love you”.

The sun will (sort of) rise.

The sun will (kind of) set.

You live in Hell, with 7 boys you dearly love,

but one holds you in the palm of his hand.

Mammon will always be there.

That night, he proved that truth to you over, and over again.

fin.