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pizzaapeteer · 6 months

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Bound

Pairings Mattheo Riddle x Fem Reader Summary After finding the reader left tied up by his sister, Mattheo decides to take the opportunity to have his own fun. Warnings: Restraints, oral (fem receiving) Word count 1400 a/n: Hello! This came to me in a dream lol, and just a heads up that this is my first ever smut fic.

You thrash in the sheets, writhing impatiently awaiting the return of your keeper. Your arms bound tightly to the bed by the metal handcuffs, keeping you from chasing after her. Leaning back, your head rests on the metal headboard, it felt like hours since you had been laying here. This was pathetic, here you were trapped after moments of torturous edging. Waiting, craving for a release; physically and mentally. The push of the door creaks, and your head tilts in anticipation. Mattheo emerges, wondering in, he stops in his tracks as he spots you. He'd only planned to nip in and return something to his sister, but the sight of you made his body run hot. Jaw clenching, his eyes trail up your exposed legs, swallowing as he takes in your lingerie covered figure. He inhales sharply, blood rushing straight to his groin, he whispers under his breath, "Fuck". He had always wanted to fuck you, but his sister had gotten there first. Yet here you were, tied up in a vulnerable oh-so tempting position. At the appearance of Mattheo, you stifled a groan, not too excited to see the other Riddle. Despite the unfortunate turn of events, it didn't hurt to ask if he could release you from your binds. "Little help?" you say head tilting towards the handcuffs. His eyes raise from you to your hands bound, a smirk spreading at the predicament you were in. You didn't feel embarrassed or shy under his gaze, rather impatient as you question his growing intent. You sigh at his amble approach towards you taking his sweet time. Hoping to persuade and hasten his movements, you look at him with puppy eyes, "Please".

He stares at your frustrated state, enthralled by the way you beg for him. His mind wells over the options, a mischievous smile graces his face as he shakes his head. He lets out a chuckled huff, "What and release you from such a compromising position." He clicks his tongue, his figure hovering over you "I don't think so".

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, not interested in whatever he's planning. Your body jolts abruptly, his hands on your skin tingles under his touch. He traces your hanging arms, goosebumps growing on your sensitive skin. His fingers roam further, across your collarbones and brush the tops of your breasts. Your breath hitches at the intimate caresses, his fingers nimbly unclasp the latch at the front of your bra. "Mattheo, what are you doing?" your voice croaks huskily. He settles himself beside your body, his hands push away the lace revealing the soft swells of your breasts. Your soft peaks harden at their exposure to the cool air. He bites his lips, grinning as he replies, "What I've always wanted to do.” His nimble fingers trace around the exterior of your nipple, extracting a loud whimper from you as you pull at the restraints. His eyes fall to your powerless state, admiring the way your lips part, aching for his touch. Your body craved to be touched in the absence of your former companion, melting into his.

"So, fucking pretty," he hums, pinching your hardened bud between his finger and thumb, revelling in your cry. His hands momentarily stop, spreading your legs apart as he repositions himself between them. A devilish smile braces his face before he dips his head, planting wet, ravenous kisses across your bust. His hands reach cupping, squeezing, the soft flesh. The sensation overwhelming you, his mouth devouring your nipple, making your head fall back. Your mind spins, your desperation growing, yearning for more as your pussy throbbed.

"Mattheo," you whimper, your eyes pleading. His grip tightens on your body, at the neediness in your voice. Power surges through him at your vulnerable state. He licks his lips, subsiding a groan at your flushed face "Tell me sweetheart, what do you want?". His cock jerks, pushing up against the constraints of his pants, the urgency growing to bury himself in the folds of your wet pussy. But he knows you won't be able to hold out till then. He cocks an eyebrow, awaiting a response, your neediness fueling him. You bite your lip to restrain the whimper, trying to conceal how defenceless you feel. "I want to cum," you state simply. Your body quivering in excitement at the possibility of finally climaxing. He ponders your answer thoughtfully, giving in with an eager smile. The temptations of being in control of your unravelling rouses him. Retreating back, his hands travel down your sides stopping to hook his fingers onto your underwear. His eyes never break from yours, your chest tightening at his deliberately slow pace of removing your underwear. You huff in annoyance, fed up with the amount of teasing you'd had today. Not by one, but two Riddles. The handcuffs cut into your skin at your relentless movements, hips bucking. His large hands hold you firmly in place, he maneuvers, immersing himself between your aching thighs. He roughly kisses your inner thighs, inching closer to your throbbing core, his hand creep up to fondle your breast. His lips sweep across your clit gently, still teasing, his head angling up to watch your chest rise and fall. He licks a long stipe up the middle of your centre, sucking it. His hands sliding around to hold your lower stomach, preventing you from bucking your hips. With his head nestled between your thighs, you admire the way his hair falls tickling your skin. It had been a long time since a boy had eaten you out, often leaving you unsatisfied. Watching Mattheo's alluring brown eyes never break contact, you thought it wasn't possible to be left unsatisfied in his hold. His skilled tongue buried deep inside your folds, lapping at your juices like a starved man.

Restlessly your hands twitch, grasping the headboard bars. You ache to fuse your hands with his dark locks, yearning to tug him closer. You worked with what you had, squeezing your thighs around his head. His firm grip ceases intention, his hands pushing your legs open; his fingers tantalizing around your heat. He clicks his tongue, his voice low with authority, "Keep those fucking legs still, sweetheart.” Without any warning, he slides two fingers inside your pussy. A deep moan erupts from within your chest, your back arches, hips threatening to rise. The sensation of his fingers leaving you feeling saturated, a feeling of attainment washing over you.

The combination of his proficient tongue on your clit and his fingers thrusting inside you, induce your high to arrive earlier than usual. Your legs twitch at every flick of his tongue against your overstimulated clit, incoherent words spilling from your mouth, your chest heaves breathlessly. His grip on you tightens as you squirm restlessly as your climate nears. Your eyes burn with bliss, and instinctively they fall shut briefly, snapping open at the harsh slap given to your pussy. "Keep those fucking eyes on me" he demands, a whimper spilling from you. He continues to thrust his fingers inside of you and returns his lips sucking harshly on your clit.

In your attempt to obey him, you struggle to keep your eyes wide. Your brows furrow, holding eye contact with him, his curls brushing your skin. Mattheo's husky voice rasps, "Come on sweetheart, cum for me.” Your face flushes, heat igniting throughout every inch of your body. Your limbs contorting, back arching at the surge of your orgasm overcomes you. "F-fuck, fuck, fuck," tears well at your eyes, a breathy cry leaving your lips. "That's its baby, fuck," he praises, prompting you on. He continues to lap, watching you fall apart, capturing every drop of your sweet cum. The sounds of your whines forever etched in his mind.

Your chest heaves, heartrate accelerating, your body twitching in your aftermath of climax. Your mind submerges, sighing relishing in the freeing pleasure of your bliss. Too consumed, you go unaware of Mattheo cleaning himself up. You close your eyes catching your breath and hear the clang of kegs unlocking your wrists. At the unlocking of your restraints, your arms fall tiredly to your sides. You peek an eye open at Mattheo. "Thanks for that," your mouth pulling into a lazy but satisfied smile. He runs a hand through his hair, looking victorious in his own efforts. "I'll have to return the favour sometime" you add cheekily. His head quirks towards the door at the call of his name, returning his gaze to you he chuckles in response to your offer. “If you can escape the restraints of my sister.” His words dripping in hidden meanings, mockery and challenge sparkle in his eyes. “But I won’t hold back if you do”.

#mattheo riddle #mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x fem reader #mattheo riddle x fem reader smut #slytherin boys

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piratefishmama · 9 months

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Fake it till you make it | Part 11

“Be careful, Eddie” were Wayne’s words as he hugged his nephew goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t see him for a whole week and honestly still being a little worried about it “if you think even for one minute that something’s off, just… just get out of there, alright?”

“I know, I know, I’ll bolt through the woods and hitchhike my way home, I know the way, Wayne, I got this.” He could read a compass, he’d be able to get a map from any gas station and head home, he was resourceful, an adult, he could handle himself.

“Damn right you got this, son. But… be careful in other ways too, alright? Steve’s a charmin boy, but… remember this ain’t real.” Eddie had bitten his bottom lip at that one, brows furrowed in thought, those big brown eyes of his swirling in emotion, he never did hide his feelings well, it’d always be a little real for him. “Protect this” Wayne poked his chest with a gentle prod, right over Eddie’s heart “okay?”

“Mhm, I will…” he’d try to anyway. Steve really was… charming. An his kisses? God his kisses… but also... it really was the closest he’d ever been to what romance ought to be, what a relationship ought to be, he never thought he’d have that.

The world didn’t appear to be moving fast enough for him to truly experience romance as most people did.

He had to remember that he didn’t have that.

“Eddie! C’mon you’re in the back with me!” Steve called from the garage door, behind which the car was rumbling, their bags packed into the back, Steve’s parents already inside, ready to go. The longest Eddie had ever been away from Wayne since arriving in Hawkins, was three days during a weekend trip to Indy with the band to play at a slightly bigger venue than the Hideout as a one off.

A favour for his favourite gay bar when a live act they’d scheduled pulled out last minute. It hadn’t gotten them a lot of exposure, but it’d been a fun and enlightening night for the band.

“Best get on, son, I’ll see you in a week. Call when you can alright? Don’t care if you wake me up or about no damn time zones, just call, I’ll answer, an if I don’t, you know the plant’s number.” Tight lipped, strained smile, Eddie nodded quickly then turned on his heel and graced Steve with a brilliant smile, game on.

“I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but... did we miss a turning?” Eddie may have been unusually quiet for the first leg of their journey, nerves having hit him like a truck the second they pulled out of Loch Nora, but he was paying attention to his surroundings.

And those surroundings, were all too quickly, Fort Wayne International Airport.

“You don’t honestly expect rich people to drive the whole way to Canada do you?” Steve’s voice was amused and came from so very close to his ear that he actually jumped, quickly turning in his seat, back plastered against his side of the back seat, eyes wide as he took in and processed what Steve said. “Plus, what would you rather do, spend nearly two days in a car with my parents—”

“We’d make wonderful road trip companions, don’t be rude Steven” came his mother’s interruption

Steve ignored it in favour of continuing his point “—orr… around ten hours in one of those with a brief stop off in Chicago.” Steve leaned inward, uncaring of personal space as he pointed to a plane, ascending into the heavens from the runway.

“I don’t—” he didn’t know. He’d never been on a plane before. Trips like that, across country, they were the stuff of road trip legend, but Steve had a point…

Two whole days of a trip stuck in a car. Or just ten hours. Eddie’s eyes skipped to the window again, to the plane now disappearing beyond the overcast cloud cover.

“It’ll be okay, Eds, I’ll sit right next to you the whole time, you’ll be okay.”

“What if we crash? What if it falls out of the sky? What’ll you do?”

“My best to keep you safe.” It was so earnest, coupled with Steve gently taking his hands and giving them a squeeze, eyes so full of raw honesty, of understanding, it hit Eddie directly in all his soft gooey bits. “I’ll hold your hand through the whole ten hours if you want.”

“Even during the stop in Chicago?”

“Hah, yeah baby, even during the stop in Chicago.”

“They’re a lot more openminded in Chicago too!” Lynda spoke up without turning her head, allowing Eddie to not get stuck on baby for too long “might get a few looks from people passing through the airport but nobody will say anything, and if they do, they deal with us.”

“If we had enough time during the stop we’d have taken a trip around the city, let you boys see some of the sights we’ve seen, but alas, our connection gives us an hour at most depending on everything being on time, and that’s just enough time to get us from one gate to the next.” John added as he pulled into the long stay parking lot. “Maybe some other time, some other family trip, eh Eddie?”

Eddie’s wide eyes turned to the front of the car, then back to Steve again, lips parted ever so slightly in surprise. Not surprise over the words used, but the feeling those words caused. Family trip. They were including him on future family trips.

Steve’s eyes quickly snapped from him to the front of the car and back again, then a warm smile blossomed on his lips. He lifted his hand and ever so carefully brushed a stray curl back behind Eddie’s ear, and asked so softly as his thumb lowered to brush along his jawline. “Right, Eddie?”

“Y-yeah… yeah I’d… I’d love that.” He turned his head fully toward the drivers seat, he’d never been too good at hiding his emotions, so maybe he was just a little choked up when he accepted the offer “I’d really love that.”

“Great!” The car came to a stop in one of the many parking bays, ignition off, driver side door opened “It’s settled then.” Settled. Eddie would privately mourn the knowledge that it’d never come to fruition, but… on the surface he could pretend he was excited for a future trip for the sake of the ruse. “Now boys if you could get the bigger bags out the trunk that’d be a big help! This back of mine isn’t as sturdy as it used to be.”

“You’re forty-six and go jogging almost every morning, don’t be stupid John.” Lynda whapped her husband with her handbag in gentle, semi-amused admonishment before getting out of the car.

Followed by her husband who, in a hushed tone replied with “don’t tell them that, Lynda, save us the work.” Leaving the two boys to breathe soft laughs between themselves before they too joined the older couple out in the parking lot.

“Steve...” Eddie hissed as they neared check-in.

“What?”

“I have weed” said through his teeth.

“What?” Steve paused.

“I have weed… I have weed in my suitcase.”

“You have what?!” Steve rounded on him, sentence ended with a pointed hiss

“I didn’t know we’d be flying to Canada, Steve, maybe you should tell people when you’re planning on launching them into the troposphere in a death tube!”

“Why would you bring weed on a holiday with my parents, Eddie?!”

“SHHHH, be quiet. I thought I might need it to chill out if I was freaking out at some point during the week like right now, I could really do with it right now.”

“Oh my god.”

“Steven? Is something wrong?” Lynda’s voice had them both snapping to attention, eyes wide, caught in the act. Luckily she had no idea what that ‘act’ was.

“Nope! No, uh, Eddie’s just gotta… use the bathroom real quick.”

“Well, there’s bathrooms in the business class lounge he can—"

“No! It’s uhm, it’s urgent, can’t wait, he’s uh…”

“Nerves, it’s uh, it’s nerves, I think imma hurl” she looked between them with a small frown on her face, assessing them both, it seemed like whatever she found wasn’t worth arguing about though, because she waved them off with a quick flick of her wrist.

“Alright fine, hurry up. Steven you know where the closest ones are go on now quickly before we’re late for check in, we’ll double check everything here.” John was already pausing to check through all their documents like a regular airport dad, it was the third time he’d done it since entering the airport.

“Alright let’s go, Eds, lets deal with your little problem.” At least he was soft-handed when he manhandled Eddie to the nearest bathroom, patchy suitcase with a squeaky wheel wobbling away behind them. Once inside, he checked each stall individually, before quickly turning on a wide eyed Eddie. “Where is it?” Eddie pointed down at the suitcase, and Steve snapped to action, lifting, and placing Eddie’s suitcase down on the slightly damp row of sinks. “Did you pack any liquid soaps?”

“Uhhh…” Eddie was too busy staring at the flex of Steve’s arms as he just. Lifted that whole very packed suitcase in one hoist. Fuck.

“Any shampoo? Conditioner?”

“I—I feel like my answer is going to make you mad so I’m just not going to answer.” Which on its own, was a pretty damning answer, and Steve’s expression told him as such “I don’t have a twelve step hair care routine like you do, Steve! I just… I have drug store shampoo and conditioner and that’s really only when it’s on a two for one sale! Usually I just—"

“If you say you water it down to make it last longer I’m going to throw the first thing I find in this suitcase at you.”

“Shutting up. I just thought I’d buy it there if I needed it, or just borrow yours, I know you brought some, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, I figured that… if I borrowed yours it’d make it seem like I just… wanted… to smell like you?”

“You just made that up.” Eddie just smiled, all teeth and dimples, scrunching his shoulders inwards in an unfairly cute display of mischief. “You’re a menace, Munson. Get your stuff out of there for me. Don’t ever put weed in checked luggage.”

“But—”

“TSA does random checks on checked luggage all the time, an while they’re not usually looking for weed, it’ll get launched and you might get fined. Whereas you can hide weed in just about anything in a carry on, just shows up as vague blurred shit on the x-ray scanners. Just be cool when you shove it through.” Steve was rummaging in the front of his own bag now, “be cool, and act natural.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

“Mn once or twice, Tommy was a dick, but his cousin worked for the TSA for a few years, gave us all kinds’a neat tricks to get things through the airport.” Tommy’s cousin had gotten fired and a year inside for attempting to smuggle narcotics out of the confiscated items lock up, but that was neither here nor there. “Gimmie what you have.” Hand outstretched, Steve waited until Eddie placed the single baggie containing three roll ups and a few loose buds “Christ Eddie.”

“I knew I’d be nervous! Stop being mean to me!” Steve rolled his eyes before taking the three roll ups out of the baggie

“Your smokes, give em.” Plenty of room in the pack to slot the three roll ups, and as for the buds, Steve emptied out his travel sized bottle of hand lotion into the sink and stuffed the whole plastic bag into the little bottle, then screwed the lid on tight. Nobody would look twice at a rich kids hand lotion. “Now wet the ends of your hair.”

“What?”

“Your hair butthead! Wet it, we told my mother you’d be in here hurling your guts up, so… you got some in your hair, it’s a good extra to add to the ruse, now do it.”

“So my own boyfriend wouldn’t even hold my hair back if I threw up? Where’s the romance, where’s the commitment, where’s the care and—”

“Dude you have a lot of hair, I doubt I could get it all in my hand at once.” Although now that thought was in his head… could he? Could he get a good fistful and hold it there? Not important. “I’d drop bits.” A flimsy argument, he wouldn’t drop anything.

“Uh-huh, sure you would, big boy.” Eddie quickly dampened the tips of his hair, and ran a wet hand through his bangs quickly in a bid to fake flop sweat, theatrics over and done with. “Zipper-up, let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

Part 13

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #lmao this was getting long so i'm splitting it up

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changedmyminditsnicehere · 9 months

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I was honestly so overwhelmed by the response to my last fic post. The Sandman fandom has been so welcoming, I wanted to write something again - I've never been this inspired! This is still a little rough I fear, but I hope however it finds enjoys it!

AO3 link here for people who prefer to read it there!

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When Dream had slammed his way into the bathroom at minute 46 - approximately - of Hob's shower, and minute negative 14 since Dream was supposed to have left - definitely - he had done so with the one clear and cogent goal in mind. What that goal had been, he was slowly being forced to admit, he had no idea.

"Morpheus? That you? It better be you mate, I am not dealing with a home invasion in the scud." Hob sounded impressively cheery for someone considering facing criminals in the nude. Morpheus was trying not to consider not to consider what it would be like to be tackled by a naked Hob. Morpheus was, despite the incredibly see-through shower curtain, trying not to consider what Hob looked like naked.

One could argue that, as he was barging in on his flatmate's post-rugby shower, he should have expected said flatmate to be somewhat naked. It wouldn’t even be the first time Hob had been somewhat naked in front of Morpheus. They had shared accommodation, university and onwards, for five years now and Hob was hardly shy. He had a habit of stripping on his way to the shower after particularly enthusiastic rugby matches. Morpheus would perish before being seen, as Hob was apparently so willing to be, dripping with sweat, flushed with exertion and panting heavily as he maniacally pulled his muddy clothes off. The first time this vision graced him, Morpheus had thought he might perish anyway. Morpheus had hoped that by regular exposure to this post-match divestment, he might have built up a tolerance that would allow him this brief escapade. A foolish hope it seemed.

“Morpheus?” "Mn." Hob let out a whistling breath. "Good good. I'm not up for naked tackling today." "...hmn" "You okay out there?" "I am just getting my pomade." "God yeah sorry, dinner with your sister right? Didn't mean to take so long, sorry mate. I'll be right out." There were many things Morpheus needed right now, including a cold shower and maybe a furious wank. He did not need the image of Hob stepping out of the shower, droplets of water on his chest just asking for Morpheus to put his lips to Hob’s beautiful chest hair and lick them up. His sister was going to mock him mercilessly. The first time Morpheus had witnessed Hob’s approach to personal modesty post-rugby, she hadn’t even waited for him to sit down before laughing in his face and flagging a waiter down to request two glasses of their cheapest prosecco. They were, she had told him, going to celebrate her darling little brother finally catching on.

"It is okay. I will leave now." "No no, it's fine, we're all adults here." The shower curtain was already pulling back. Morpheus considered fleeing. He could move in with his sister, probably. She would let him sleep on her couch and only mock him slightly mercilessly while he planned his move to the remotest desert spit he could find.

And then there was Hob. All of Hob. In all his evenings waiting for and fearing the advent of Hob's Sweaty Striptease, Morpheus had never once dared to imagine what it would look like going in the other direction. If Hob were moving towards him, rather than up the stairs.

He might not be breathing. He wondered if passing out might be the least embarrassing way out of his current predicament. Probably not, unfortunately. Hob was… so much. Hair slicked back, broad chest, his chest hair swirled into patterns Morpheus tried to focus on, make sense of, so as not to let his gaze descend any further.

“Morpheus? You in there?” Morpheus looked up carefully. He was trying so hard not to glance down. Hob was looking at him, significantly more amusement in his eyes’ than Morpheus thought he might have for someone leching at his chest hair. “You okay? You’re looking a bit red, is the steam getting to you?” Hob seemed utterly unaware of his inner turmoil. He reached out, as if to measure his temperature with the back of his hand.

Morpheus could not explain why he did it, except to say that he did not think he could withstand Hob’s hand on his face while he stood there, naked. Why he thought grabbing Hob’s hand and simply holding it would be better than whatever mortification he would no doubt commit should Hob touch him, he did not know. But now they stood, hands clasped at chest height. “... I do not know why I did that.” Hob’s smile was changing. Gone was the cheerful blandness and in its place was not the censorious disapproval Morpheus feared, but something slower, warmer. Hob looked, Morpheus would almost say, pleased with himself.

“Don’t you? You seem to be concentrating pretty hard.” He grinned. “See something you like? Don’t like?” Morpheus frowned in denial before he could consider how incriminating it might be. “Oh, definitely like.” Hob sounded incredibly smug. “You know, when your sister suggested stepping it up a notch, I didn’t actually plan for full frontal nudity. That seems like a second date sort of event really.” “A … second date event?” “Unless, that’s not what this is?” Hob’s grin dimmed and Morpheus couldn’t let that happen. “Only, you seemed pretty interested but you never actually did anything, I kind of hoped that meant it might be more than just, just,” Hob rushed. “You would like a second date… with me?” Morpheus interrupted. “Well, I’d like a first date ideally, but if I can guarantee a second one off the bat, that would make me very happy. What about you? Would you be happy with that?” Hob’s hand was clasping Morpheus’ back now. “I would be… very happy with that.” “Oh, oh good. Thank god. I was worried I’d made myself look like a right knob and I would have to move out and fake my own death. How does tonight sound? Dinner? After you see your sister? Too soon? I can do whenever. God, I do sound like a knob don’t I?” “Lunch.” “Lunch? We can do lunch. When works for you, tomorrow? No, that’s a school day - you want to wait til next weekend? I can wait.” He did not sound like he could wait. “No, lunch today. Now. I will tell my sister I am indisposed.”

Hob’s laugh was beautiful.

#the sandman #hob gadling #dreamling #morpheus #dream of the endless

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swampstew · 7 months

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Eustass Kid, G-46 ~ Con Non-Con

Summary: modern monster au, Eustass Kid is a vampire and you’re his favorite familiar. Need I say more?

Warnings: Spicy! Dom/Master Vampire Kid, Sub/Familiar Reader - long term relationship cause I'm in my feelings rn, blood drinking/maybe fetish, creampie, overstimulation, master/familiar play but make it heartwarming, marking/ownership Word Count: 942

The day you met him was the happiest day of your life. So wild and attractive, you were certain you were under his spell the moment his golden eyes burned right through yours. It was like he had a gravitational pull on you. Soon you were face to face and he gave you a charming smile with sharp teeth.

“Hey. Wanna grab a drink?”

That was how it started. Oh you wished you could relive that moment so many times, to get the rush of adrenaline back again. How high you were on his personality and devilish looks alone, you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted too, your pussy controlled your brain and actions from your first interaction. One date became three, then that night he fucked you stupid.

You were addicted to him then.

The addiction was mutual – he wanted you nearby all the time, so possessive, so needy and clingy, especially when he had limited time and exposure due to his nature. Wanted to both show you off and keep you shut from the world so he could consume you selfishly.

One day he asked you, “Will you be mine? Forever?”

“I’ve been yours since Day 1.”

His toothy grin was so beautiful it made your heart burst. Kid bit his lip, drawing some blood and smearing it over his red tinted lips, making them darker in color. He used his stained thumb to spell out his name on your naked chest before smashing his iron coated lips to yours, and you eagerly swallowed him whole. Damn nearly every day.

Kid purchased private land in a dense wooded area, built a magnificent house and had you living with him since that day. While he slept you did as you pleased, so long as you were home when he was awake, and you damn better be there to greet him. He waited all night to kiss his beloved.

You’ve never missed a kiss and you swear you never will. Today you wanted to surprise him. You leapt into his coffin as the lid swung open, and he let out a pleased growl as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.”

“I dreamt about you. Missed you. What did you do today?” he gently grasped your wrist and brought it to his face, tracing his fangs against the blue flush of your veins, stopping shortly when he saw the fresh ink in your arm.

“Is that?”

It was. A dainty red tulip in your inner forearm, with a slender, mechanical hand tenderly holding the flower stem.

“Me?”

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to,” you tease, kissing up and down his neck. “Of course it is.”

“I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m yours and you’re mine.”

He chuckled, “Have you always been so possessive?”

“Pot calling the Kettle bl—”

Kid didn’t let you finish, grabbed your waist and flipping you over so your back was against the maroon fur lining. Grinding his bulge into your stomach he growled, “Wrap it up, don’t want to infect it when I mark you some more with my cum.”

You were screaming as the coffin shook, Kid’s animalistic growls echoed in the gothic chamber and he pounded into your aching pussy, so eager to clench on him and pull him in deeply. His encouraging grunting as his hips smacked against your damp flesh made you fall apart – feeling like a sleeve at his mercy. The grace he provided by rubbing a calloused finger against your clit as he rubbed keen circles into it.

“Who do you belong to?”

“YOU KID! ONLY YOU!”

“Do you mean it?”

“Yes! Yes! Please, pleaasssee, I love you!!!”

Letting out a satisfied moan, he bit his lip sharply with his fang and smashed his mouth against yours. You lapped up the blood eagerly and it was like swallowing a flake of spice, the way it warmed your mouth and throat, tingling – so intense it almost felt like it was burning, maybe it was burning, it was so hot as it ran down your through and warmed your body from the inside out.

“FUUUUUCCCKK!!” You came hard around his cock, letting out a muffled moan that became a screech as you rode your orgasm while he fucked you through it. The overwhelming sensation of his heavy cock overstimulated your every nerve and still he didn’t let up.

Jerking back on feet to reposition himself on to his knees, he lifted your body and held on to your hips as he fucked into you. Your wails growing higher and tears leaded from your eyes as you felt the edge of another orgasm building inside you from his perfect cock.

“Say it!” he hoarsely growled in your ear.

“I’m yours forever, Master.”

Kid let out a strangled cry as his hips stuttered but did not cease his thrusting. He slammed into you a few more times before you both came together. Always in perfect union – so perfect for each other, you even had your orgasms nailed down to an exact science for maximum pleasure. Everything you have with Eustass Kid, just absolutely perfect.

With a content sigh, Kid fell back to sit down inside the coffin, still partly holding you, so he could watch his seed drip from you as he kept you plugged.

“If all it took for you to call me Master was marrying ya’, I woulda taken you to Vegas that same night.”

“Crazy thing is, I would have let you,” you grin at him. “Shiiiiittt, you always know what to say to get me hard as a rock.”

4 tiles to go, 62 calls made so far. Since we've made 60+ calls, the Halloween Scenario is going to be:

Halloween party/séance gone wrong scenario

#eustass kid #kinktober 2023 #raven's bingo board #raven's halloween party #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #swampstew stories #eustass kid smut #swampstew bedtime stories #eustass kid x reader #eustasscaptainkid #tw dark content #tw dom/sub #tw monsterfucking #con noncon #cw gore #vampirisim #and all the kinky things about it

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wen-kexing-apologist · 10 months

Text

Thai QL Favorites Game

*sigh* y'all seem to love torturing me with the terrible, terrible weight of having to pick favorites.

Tagged by @telomeke

Favorite Thai QL: Moonlight Chicken

gif by @jaehwany

This is so fucking hard because like…I Told Sunset About You, 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us, and The Eclipse exist and I could wax poetic about all of them, about how much heart went in to them, about how strong the performances of the actors are, about how emotionally impactful these shows were for me. Because all of them were, and they were impactful and relevant to me in so many different ways. I can say with utter confidence that I have not been as impacted by a piece of television as I was with ITSAY and 180D. But, fundamentally, Moonlight Chicken is the show that started it all for me. Moonlight Chicken is the first show that I started writing analysis about, it is the first show that I started interacting with other people on this website over, I have so many tumblr friends now explicitly because of how I engaged with this show, and how others engaged with this show. And so, regardless of how many other incredible, impactful, cinematographic masterpieces grace my screen, Moonlight Chicken will forever be my favorite because it gave me a community I didn’t have before.

Favorite Pairing: First and Khaotung

gif by @gunsatthaphan

I want to make it very clear, I do not condone fanservice. I am generally opposed to speculating about the nature of two actor’s relationships to one another outside of work. So, when I talk about my favorite pairing, I mean it strictly as scene partners. First and Khaotung are my favorite pairing because they are incredible fucking actors. First is a fucking chamelian, like seriously, I saw him in Not Me first, then in The Eclipse, and I think it took me until I looked up what else First had been in during my first viewing of The Eclipse that I even realized he had played Yok. And that blew my fucking mind because Yok and Akk are radically different characters. Yok is loud, chaotic, comfortable, and open. Akk is quiet, stressed, distressed, closeted, suppressed, and First does such an incredible job with both of those characters. After I watched The Eclipse for the first time, I went back right after to watch Not Me so I could compare First’s performance, and I was just blown away. I have since rewatched The Eclipse about six times.

gif by @choikangho

Then I saw him as Alan in MLC and again, First was able to be an asshole to Jim while maintaining a sympathetic position, he navigates so well the razor thin edge that has to be balanced when it comes to making a character that first appears as an antagonistic force but whose pain and anger is immediately understandable, and he does it with ease. It both makes me sad and happy that Aof did not know how good of an actor First was. I heard from @so-much-left-to-learn that Moonlight Chicken started filming before The Eclipse was released, and that Aof wasn’t ever on set for The Eclipse and therefore would not have really had a chance to see him playing more serious roles. I am glad that Aof acknowledging how blown away he was by First means that First actually can act and I am not just distracted by the angelic face of his. Also, this boy can fucking cry.

gif by @gaykey

Khaotung similarly, I think my first exposure to Khao was The Eclipse and then I saw him in A Tale of A Thousand Stars and I was like “Hello??????????? Where did my rat bastard go? This is a sweet ray of sunshine!” Khao is a powerhouse, and a master at displaying, expressing, and articulating grief that it radiates out of the screen. It is unsurprising to me that everyone was singing his praises in MLC and I feel some type of way about the fact that Aof knew how talented Khaotung was and trusted him to carry the heavy responsibility of portraying the grief of losing a parent so soon after Aof lost his. And everyone who said that your eye can’t help but be drawn to Khao whenever he is on screen is correct. Khaotung is a force to be reckoned with, and though you are drawn to him, I don’t think when he is not the focus of the moment that he ever steals the scene. Also, this boy can fucking cry.

gif by @thebvbbletea

I think it was @ginnymoonbeam who said that First and Khaotung elevate every role they play, and I have to agree. But further, they elevate each other, and I so enjoyed the clips I’ve seen of First and Khaotung discussing their friendship and how they had never gotten to work together, and how they had a conversation with each other when they got cast opposite one another in The Eclipse being like “this is probably the one and only time they are going to have us work together, so let’s show them what we’ve got” and they just like…demolished those fucking roles, and now are scene partners in a number of shows. I loved watching the Behind the Scenes videos where First and Khaotung describe what they have learned from each other working together, especially how First is always going back to look at the camera and to observe the scene they have just recorded so he can see how the scene is looking, take mental notes, and adjust as needed, and how Khaotung had never done that until he was on set with First.

Again, I will not speculate in any way, shape, or form about the true nature of their relationship to one another outside of work, but inside of work they do appear to be deeply deeply important to each other which is just so wonderful to witness. Regardless of whether or not their friendship is that strong when cameras aren’t rolling, I love seeing sweet, vulnerable, and strong displays of male friendship where First and Khaotung are literally crying at the thought of not seeing each other every day. Like, I just think shit like that is incredibly important for people to see in hopes that they will understand that it is okay to love your friends loudly and strongly.

Most underrated actor: Jennie

I love Jennie so much, my face always lights up when she is on screen. I think she is a great actress, and gave a very compelling performance as Mae in 3 Will Be Free. I would love to see her in more things, in larger roles.

Favorite Character: Akk, The Eclipse

gif by @fuligongs

Thankfully this is a Thai QL tag only so that I didn’t have to pit two bad bitches against each other (Wen Kexing and Akk). Ohhhhhh Akk, you are trying so hard to please everyone around you, and you are so scared, and so prone to being manipulated, and so stressed out. You have so much pressure on you, you are carrying so much doubt and fear and pain. You tried to murder your classmates, you cry yourself silly over problem you are partially responsible for. You are complicated, and suppressed, and constantly on the verge of bursting, and I want to just wrap you in a blanket, give you hot chocolate, and tell you everything is going to be okay. Akk is my beloved BL boy. I relate very hard to the composition of his character. I am not an Akk apologist, because he has done some very wrong things in his life, but I love him because of all the wrongs he has done. Because he didn’t know any better, because he had a lot to lose if he did not do his job to a satisfactory degree, because he saw a hot boy who was immediately mean to him and fell head over heels, and because Akk is constantly evaluating and questioning his worldview, and adjusting it accordingly. He has such a huge heart and he’s not quite sure what to do with it.

Favorite Side Character: Chot, Step by Step

gif by @mushiemadarame

This man has his shit together and spends too much of his precious time corralling his love sick, dumb fuck gay boy boss and his love sick, dumb fuck gay boy coworker around their enclosure.

Favorite scene in a QL: 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us, Ep. 8

The farewell Wang gives to In near the end of Episode 8 is probably my favorite scene in a QL ever for a very innocuous and unexpected reason, and that is the flashback to Mon comforting Wang in the aftermath of their confrontation. Now, poor @bengiyo can attest that when I first saw the literal like…ten seconds of Wang falling against the doorframe of his mother’s bedroom, and then collapsing sobbing in to her arms, that I was sent in to the most intense emotional distress of my entire life for deeply, deeply personal reasons. I shared this entire clip because I think the confrontation itself is a marvel to behold, the way the tension has been building and building and building the entire show, and you can almost hear the whistle as the pressure finally becomes to much, and then erupts. GOD THIS SHOW IS SO FUCKING GOOD. Anyway, it took me thirty minutes to calm down and breathe properly from Wang’s “Ma” moment in this episode and because of how strongly it impacted me, it is my favorite scene.

Favorite line in a QL: “You’re allowed to be weak, at least with me” / “You don’t have to be strong, not with me”

This is a line that is very frequently said by at least one half of a pair, Akk and Ayan say it to each other in The Eclipse, King says it to Uea in Bed Friend, I’m pretty sure there is some variation of it that Praipai says to Sky in Love in The Air. It is cheesy, and tropey, sure, but boy oh boy how I love the level of safety and comfort it implies between characters. Like, fundamentally, an aspect of relationships that is constantly evaluated in romance, is who knows you better than anyone, how you show your most authentic self to the person that you love. I mean, seriously, how much of romance stories revolves around hiding parts of yourself you fear no one would ever love? How much of romance stories revolve around keeping secrets because you are scared of losing the person you have? How much of romance has their conflict arise from the revelation of the secret, but not the secret itself? How much of romance has their resolution occur after moments of complete and total honesty?

I love all variations of this line, non-verbal ones included, non-verbal ones especially: from Pran sobbing in to Pat’s shoulder in Episode 10, to Tien fainting in Phupa’s arms, to Akk and Ayan always holding one another while one or both of them cries, navigating nightmares, and panic attacks, bearing witness to abuse, etc.

All that said, the other line that has been haunting me recently is “No one has asked me how I am in awhile” said by Tawan in My Ride because oof, yeah, in many ways and in many aspects of my life I am Tawan and truer words…

Most Anticipated QL (& why): Only Friends

First being a slut. Neo being a slut. Mark being a slut. Force being a slut. Khaotung being a slut. Book being a slut. JENNIE!

This chart:

This clip from the trailer:

(gif from @ahxiang)

The playlist:

I am 0% looking forward to the fan reactions because I feel like this is a show rife for the picking around discourse, but I am looking forward to seeing what kind of a ride (haha) Jojo takes me on.

Healthiest relationship in a QL: Mork and Tawan, My Ride

gif by @save-the-data

I haven’t finished this show yet, I have the last two episodes to watch but I really love the reciprocal relationship the two of them have, I know it seems funny and ironic to say this, knowing that Mork did withhold information from Tawan and continued to try to alleviate his fears by lying to him about it, but they are open and honest with each other in a really wonderful way, I love their dynamic, and I think that as they continue to know each other, and love each other that they will only get better and better with open, honest communication, and mutual respect and care.

Most toxic relationship in a QL: Akk and Theo, Enchante

Sorry if you like this show, and sorry if you like this couple, and I know this feels out of left field when VegasPete exists, when FUTS exists, when Boss and Toy exist but like…

Theo does fuck all for Akk, he just creates the most elaborate lie, doubles down on it, triples down on it, lets four other boys try to woo him, and Akk’s devotion to Theo and Theo’s downright obliviousness to Akk’s life needs leads to Akk getting fucking FIRED FROM HIS JOB BECAUSE THEO COULDN’T FIGURE OUT HOW TO RIDE THE BUS. Like…I’m sorry, but as much as I do believe that many relationships have some inherent level of imbalance, whether that is time, emotional needs, income, life experience, etc. and that can be fine and does not inherently make a relationship terrible or “toxic”, folks I’m sorry, I have seen 60 BLs at this point and I think this is the couple that I like the least.

Guilty pleasure series: There is no such thing as a guilty pleasure, I own that shit…

My guilty pleasure series is not so much a series as it is revisiting certain scenes in different BLs that I love. I have rewatched a number of the fight scenes, make out scenes, and sex scenes in the shows I have seen: Eclipse, Bed Friend, La Pluie, LITA, KinnPorsche, Moonlight Chicken, etc.

gif by @liyazaki

There isn’t a particular order, and there is no intentional plan, but sometimes a backing track of a scene gets stuck in my head and I have to watch the scene to get it out, and sometimes I’m like “damn I miss my boys”, and sometimes @colourme-feral is an asshole and reblogs King and Uea gifs and I am seized with the urge to see them again. I tend to watch kissing scenes and sex scenes a lot in the shows that I’ve seen because I love breaking down the choreography of the scene. If you don’t know by now, I spend a lot of my time in shows analyzing the body language of the characters and there are no scenes more rich with body language to analyze than the strongest emotional moments, which come through the eruption of a fight scene, or through the intimacy of a love scene.

gif by @alexshenry

I will often watch a particular moment of a scene like four times in a row, trying to parse through every microexpression on an actor’s face, or wonder how the hell they managed to get through a scene without laughing. I love watching other people have strong emotional responses in a television show because I cannot and do not act, and therefore I am constantly amazed and curious about how a person is able to make their face move like that, make their body move like that, make their eyes shine like that, etc.

Most underrated series: He’s Coming to Me

Honestly, I would say 180 Degrees Longitude Passes Through Us is also a highly underrated series, but 180D is very heavily reminiscent of stage plays (which makes sense since the director is a playwright) and I that is not a style of performance that is as easily watched for everyone. So I can understand the physicality, and the pacing, and the space to be a barrier to actually enjoying the show. Which is why I am going to say something most other people have said…He’s Coming to Me.

I am picking this one because it is filmed in a similar style to most other GMMTV BLs which means that it is accessible to a wider audience. But it’s released was impacted by a number of different issues, including fan pushback, which is to say the least a goddamn travesty. This is a beautiful piece of media, with (unsurprising) stellar performances from Ohm and Singto. Aof knows how to do an Episode 5 roof scene, let me tell you. I have seen it on a recommended watch list from time to time, with mostly just the statement that people should watch it because there is a really good coming out scene. Which is literally all I knew about the show when I started watching it, and which promptly became a thing I got a bit miffed over, not because I didn’t love the coming out scene (I super super did) but because this show is so queer. This show is a gay trifecta (by, for, and about queers) and no one fucking told me?!

Like, seriously the only thing anyone at all had to say about this show was that the coming out scene was good? Not the way that seeing ghosts is a metaphor of queerness, not that Ohm delivers one of the most gut-wrenching screaming apologies? Not a peep have I seen about Ohm’s ramble about people’s assumptions about what and who he likes by his friends in the locker room?

Everyone needs to see this show. I know that the distribution of it prevented a lot of people from seeing it in any timely fashion, but it is available on YouTube now and I would highly, highly recommend it. This was a 10/10 show for me.

Tagging @solitaryandwandering, @colourme-feral, @ranchthoughts, @rocketturtle4

#la pluie #step by step #moonlight chicken #bed friend #mlc #hctm #3wbf #first kanaphan #khaotung thanawat #jennie panhan #ohm pawat #singto prachaya #180 degree longitude passes through us #kinnporsche #only friends #thai ql tag challenge #wka long post #Spotify

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 4 months

Text

CELEBRITY | chapter 01

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

SYNOPSIS: The protagonist knows for a fact she'll be famous someday. The way it happens is not as she planned, though. WARNINGS: dark romance; revenge p*rn; minor injury; mentions of blood; mentions of cheating; minors dni.

|[previous chapter]| — |[masterlist]|

CHAPTER I — THE VIDEO

The worst day of her life starts in a cramped apartment, a tiny box in a decaying building, a place where dreams wither and die.

The peeling wallpaper has witnessed too many damp nights, and the floorboards groans in complaints with every reluctant step. The window panes are coated with city filth, and they can barely let in the slivers of a gray day; the light looks worn out before it even hits the furniture.

And then, there’s the protagonist. Radiant, untouched by the dumpster fire that is this place. She glides through the chaos like a ghost of grace. Her presence is a sunbeam slashing through the fog, a reminder that even in the darkest corners, there can be a glimmer of something extraordinary.

Beyond the protagonist’s bedroom it's chaos incarnate. Dirty dishes pile up in the sink, and the hum of low-budget appliances mixes with the muffled arguments and laughter from her roommates and neighboring apartments. In the bathroom, the mirror is cracked and stained, reflecting fractured images of each occupant's struggle for normalcy.

Our girl sneaks into the kitchen and with ease, she starts brewing coffee, a sort of morning ritual of calm amid the storm.

As the bitter aroma begins to fill the air, she mechanically grabs her phone and dives into the vortex of her social media, seeking a quick escape from the madness around her.

She hears it before she realizes what it is.

A scream, raw and unrestrained. It's her own scream – a guttural reaction to something horrific she's just seen on the screen. The coffee, momentarily forgotten, sends ripples in its mug. She clutches the phone, her eyes wide with shock.

Fury courses through her veins, and she can't recall stepping into a car; all that matters is where she’s headed.

How dare he?

She doesn't know what’s worse – the damning video or the venomous audio that followed:

“You said you wanted to be famous! Bitch, I can make you famous.”

It's the video. The video is worse.

She searches her memory, but there's no recollection of consenting to being recorded. No agreement, just an invasion of privacy. Yet, it’s there – the video he felt entitled enough to send.

A voice in her head insists he won't share it, that he's married, and the consequences would be dire for him. But logic loses its battle against the graphic images on the screen – his face absent, only a hand and an even more inappropriate part of his anatomy.

It shouldn't matter. If he's unhinged enough to do this, she can't risk it. Panic sets in; she needs assurance that he deletes every trace he has of her. She's not Kim Kardashian; her feeble singing career would crumble at the exposure of a video with a married Premier League player. Recovery would be impossible.

When she arrives at his home, she feels like an intruder. It's a familiar place, one she's sneaked into countless times in the nighttime, when he had the house for himself. But being there for the first time in the light of day, she discovers the opulence of the house feels utterly alien.

The grandeur of the entrance foyer greets her like an unwelcome guest. An imposing staircase sweeps upwards, adorned with an ostentatious chandelier. The air carries the unmistakable scent of his expensive cologne and the lingering residue of privilege.

In the living room, she finds him surrounded by friends.

“What the fuck?” He's incredulous at her audacious decision, silently grateful that his wife is away with the kids. “You can’t just show up here. Are you crazy?”

“Oh, now I’m the crazy one? Delete that video. I won't let you ruin my life.”

At the corner of the room, the male lead sits down, observing the brewing storm. He quietly calculates his next move.

The protagonist holds her ground. "Delete the damn video."

And her demand hangs in the air.

“Fuck, no!” REDACTED answers.

The tension escalates and the confrontation reaches its boiling point. The protagonist feels a surge of frustration and helplessness, she clenches her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The pain is immediate, a sharp sting that momentarily dulls her emotional turmoil. Ignoring the throbbing ache in her hands, she turns away from REDACTED.

She finds a small decorative object on a nearby table – a delicate crystal vase. In an impulsive act of frustration, she grabs the vase without a second thought. The cold surface presses into her hand, and with a swift, unthinking motion, she throws the vase against the wall.

The sound of shattering glass echoes through the room. A shard of glass grazes her hand in the process and a small trickle of blood emerges, running down her fingers.

The room falls into a stunned silence.

With a timing reserved only for the most special characters in a story, the male lead speaks up.

“Come on, man. Do what she’s asking.” He directs his friend, breaking the tension with a straightforward command. It's the first time the protagonist takes a good look at him.

Rúben Dias. She knows him, of course, she knows everybody in the team, but she has never seen him up close before. He's beautiful, and in this moment, he exudes an imposing aura. Even though he's not speaking directly to her, she still recoils under the weight of his presence.

“Jesus, alright. I’ll delete it. Come on, I was just joking!” REDACTED raises his hand in a mock surrender, laughter dripping from his words. “I’ll delete it.” He repeats.

And he does, though not without silently cursing Rúben for being in the room and witnessing the scene. REDACTED knows if things went south, Rúben would open his big mouth and get him in trouble, leaving him no other choice. He shows his phone to the protagonist, revealing the file with her name on it, protected with a password. The contents are too much for her to bear, and she has to hold back a wave of nausea. Nevertheless, he deletes everything, and she leaves the house immediately afterwards.

The door closes behind her with a muffled thud. To her surprise, Rúben is right there, having followed her.

“Fuck off!” She says, her voice is a mixture of frustration and defiance.

“I’m not ‘fucking off’. Come on, let me take you to a hospital. You’re bleeding!” He insists with genuine concern on his face.

“I’ll just wash it, it’ll be fine.” The protagonist dismisses, attempting to downplay the situation.

“Seriously, my mother would kill me if I just left you here.”

She stops, hesitating for a moment, before finally saying, "Can you just drive me to a hospital and leave me there?" There's a brief pause, and then she adds, "I don’t want to be seen with you, no offense."

To her surprise, he doesn't look offended, and so she continues, "Also, help me text a friend so she can meet me there?”

He laughs, breaking the tension, and says, “That’s a good compromise. Now let’s go!”

|[masterlist]| — |[next chapter]|

#football fanfic #ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #rúben dias #football fic

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muzzleroars · 10 months

Note

Do the virtues ever try to teach gabriel (potentially v1 too) about human activities? Like teaching them the rules of basketball just for v1 to make it into something super violent

the virtues absolutely try to teach gabriel about human things! i think gabe was actually fairly sociable before things fell apart in heaven, attached to his role as messenger to humanity and gaining an affection for them that many higher angels didn't just due to exposure. so he's learned a few things from those he used to speak with, especially concerning leisure activities like sports or games and cultural practices (or even pop culture lol), but his most comprehensive knowledge comes from the time he was "active" on earth...meaning a lot of his points of reference are still largely from biblical times lol it's tempered by some bits and pieces he learned from his rare downtime in heaven when he was able to speak with more modern human souls, but he definitely learns a lot more since these virtues are some of the few friends he has left. they actually give him a lot of practical advice, as true angels, while near perfect at their designated roles, have little capacity for innovation or creativity. so the virtues guide him through maintaining a home and tending a garden (one of the virtues is quite old, from gabe's "time", and so knows how to care for crops), as well as offering cooking tips. however, gabriel begins to sort of encourage them to speak on whatever they wish, wanting a refrain from how stressful his life is (and has been for decades now), and that's when they tell him about all sort of other little human activities that he frankly never knew had such breadth and variety

games are a big part of this, and while it takes some convincing for v1 to engage in board games (computer chess......), it absolutely wants to try out every sport they describe!!! gabriel is intent on keeping it more traditional (that is, NON-violent so that v1 is engaging in more well-rounded activities), but then there's things like dodgeball, which he swears must have been made for it (it can't convince him of the game "dodgebomb", which it thinks is an innovative spin on the classic) but one of my favorite ideas is a virtue introducing him to ice skating - gabriel, at first, just sort of listens politely to them describing it, initially not terribly interested in it himself given how cold he always is, how ice is a central part of his literal hellish existence. yet the description won't leave his mind, intrigued greatly by the combination of strength and grace required to truly engage with it as a sport. it pesters him so much that he eventually does decide to learn, he braces himself against the cold because something in it captivates him and he needs to understand what. it's not the easiest learning process, though v1 being with him helps a lot (it falls down constantly and seems excited by the prospect of crashing into things, so his own failures don't seem so bad) but when he begins to understand it, when the parts start moving together and his whole body is working in tandem...it reminds him of flying. the ground is barely there, the friction feels ephemeral, the wind shifts all around him and he feels light again. ironic that ice could give this to him, the very thing meant to trap him in everlasting grief providing the only simulacrum he's found of his lost flight.

#plus....couple routines.....#also i think he gets his wings a bit involved when he can #when the pain isn't too bad #and he can feel them in the air again for a minute #cake answers #fallen gabriel

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khonshus-stardust · 2 years

Text

Waking Up With Khonshu

Pairing: Khonshu x Reader (AFAB)

Warnings: soft sex, voyeurism, somnophilia (consensual), Khonshu (because he's a fucking warning himself), becomes slightly rough sex since its Khonshu we are talking about

Word Count: 3082

Summary: Gods don't require sleep to function like humans do. But Khonshu understands this with you as his lover. You slept all night long through his time. So when the sun comes up, he attempts to get you to rouse from your sleep. It takes little more than a few pokes and words to fully wake you up. Khonshu does the only thing he knows that works, for the most part.

Author Note: Okay, well, this is the first time I'm writing for this man. I made a comment to my cousin how little there is of Khonshu and she said I should fix it. And, I'm doing that! Enjoy the softer side of Khonshu.

Ao3

A familiar hand trailed down from the top of your head to your neck. “It’s time to get up, Little Bug,” the crispy sound of a voice helped rouse you from sleep. Yet, all you responded with was a groan and curling into a tighter ball. His scent filtered into your nose, causing a minute smile to appear.

There was a deep sigh. The hand lifted up then touched your cheek. One of the softest of smiles gracing your face this lazy morning. But still, you won’t fully wake. Your mind stuck between conscience and sleep. It refused to go anywhere else. This was slightly annoying a tall figure knelt down before your resting form on the couch.

“Stardust, you need to get up,” he requested of you. The blanket on you shifted, sliding down your frame and exposing you to the cool morning. You whimpered with a shiver. The half tank top and short-shorts did little to keep warmth in. Curse the mornings of the north. “I know you can hear me.”

You made an undignified voice from the back of your throat. It’s not one you would easily admit you made. Instead, you tugged at the blanket and pulled it back over yourself. “Ah, no. Marc is arriving soon, Little Bug. I need you up.” That same hand ran from your cheek towards your chest. The thin cloth that blocked him from seeing one his favor parts of you was pressed against your skin.

This got a reaction out of you. You stretched out from the ball position and pushed against his hand. But, your eyes were still closed. The soft light coming from the nearest window almost blinded you. He hummed and allowed his hand to press on. It went over your breasts, down your stomach, then stopped at the elastic of your short-shorts. They had little crescent moons on them. A pair he adored and loved when you wore them around him. Yet, the amount of exposure of your legs made him possessive of Marc, Steven, or Jake from seeing you this way.

Something bony gently tapped against the top of your head. You stretched out more, further opening up to him.

The tips of fingers barely going underneath the waistband of your shorts. A whine escaping you. You reached out with a hand , brushing against the cloth that wrapped around his lean bicep. “Is this how I have to wake you up? With my fingers slotted between your legs?”

As your mind waked, you thought that didn’t sound half bad. The god always knew how to have you screaming, either at him or the moon.

He continued his soft assault. One finger easily found your clit and pressed against it. You lowly keened with your back arching at his actions. “There’s my Stardust,” he whispered with adornment. His lone finger started to slowly circle around that hidden nub.

Your other hand followed down the length of his arm until he grabbed it and pinned it to your chest. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleep? If you’re not, I guess I don’t need to wake you up this way.” That made you whine with a high pitch tone.

“Please, love. I need you,” you begged. Your eyes finally opening up and staring up at the long bird skull. Khonshu didn’t physically have eyes but no matter what, you could feel them upon your form.

Same as you knew he would be smirking if he could. “It has been a bit… Is my Stardust that desperate?” You rapidly nodded your head and put on a pout with the whole effect. Your bottom lip pushed out as your hips subconsciously canted forward.

Khonshu chuckled deeply and tilted his head to the side yet said nothing else. His hand started its movement once more. You moaned this time, head bowed down and hips humping against the limb. The last thing on your mind was how undignified this was. But when the last time you say your god was two weeks ago and he left you on the edge, you needed this. More than he probably knew.

“You’re so beautiful, Stardust. Your body reacts such in a delicious way. It knows what your god wants from you.” Yourself knew what he wanted. His name screamed to hanging half moon still in the sky.

Without meaning too, you locked your thighs around his hand at the soft words. “Fuck, Khonshu,” you whispered and grasped with your free hand. The other still pinned against your chest. He continued to hold it against you, partially restrained to the couch. “Come on, love. Let me come, please.”

His low voice chuckled next to your ear. “Hearing you beg is more stunning than my moon and stars.” He gently pushed at one of you legs, silently asking you to open up. To which, you happily did. The blanket forgotten about on the floor now. His other hand releasing yours and helps pull down your shorts. They were thrown somewhere in the living room.

As more of your body was exposed to the god, he hummed and ran his hands down sides. One resting on top of your mound. “Much better.” You silently agreed with him and bucked your hips. He laughed again and stroked softly at your labia, not yet touching where you wanted.

The end of his long beak rested on your cheek. You turned your head and kissed the bone, love shining in your eyes. With Khonshu’s predicament, he couldn’t respond in the same fashion but you understood and knew he felt the same.

Then, the god finally returned to his former spot. A soft moan escaping your lips, his name falling off of them all the same. “Good girl, good girl.” Those two works repeated struck you hard. The praise hitting you at your core. A throb racing through your empty vagina.

He must have read your mind or sense your desperation and slide a single digit in. Your mouth hung open with a low groan, hips rocking at faster pace.

You felt all that familiar tightening in your core. A hand now grasped at the couch below you but it gave you no purchase as your body continued figurately to hurtle forward. His name whispered like a prayer on your lips. Both eyes open and staring up at his immovable figures. But Khonshu’s nonexistent eyes were on you, that you knew.

“Be a good girl, Stardust. Cum for your god,” he commanded close to your ear. And like he said, you listened to your god. You would always listen to him.

Your muscles tightened harshly against him, throbbing with your heartbeat. His name screamed out to his faint moon in the lighting sky. Your nails raked down the length of his arm then pressed the back of his hand closer. It’s been too long and you relished in the feeling.

Soon after, you relaxed and fell into a groggy mindset. If it wasn’t for his fingers rubbing again at your clit, you would’ve stayed there for the rest of time.

A high pitch whine escaped from your throat. You looked up at him, finding a halo of light surrounding his figure. It was strange to see him in the sun’s light compared to his own. Nevertheless, he looked like the god he was called for. “You can give your god one more. Right, Little One?” he questioned softly. You would do a lot for him. What he asked of you was so simple. You nodded your head eagerly but had something else on mind.

With that in mind, you got up and maneuver the god into the position you wanted. Khonshu stared at you in question but allowed you to do what you wanted.

Now, he sat on the floor with his back to couch, legs stretched. In general, he looked delicious. You licked your lips then pulled the last bit of clothing off. Khonshu hummed at the display. A single hand reached out to you, which you gratefully took. He carefully tugged at you. You straddled his thin waist and smiled up at him.

Your pussy pressed against his crouch. The bulge hidden below wrappings twitched at your actions. “Hm, you know how to please your god, Stardust,” he groaned into your ear.

“Someone taught me how,” you returned and humped him. His hand still wet with your slick slide up your side and cupped your breast. The long beak that made up his head gently rubbed at your cheek. “Now, how about you make me cum a second time. If you think you can.”

His entire frame tensed at your words; and you felt his gaze shifting from something soft to a challenge. Well, you started it first. At times, you liked to test him. All in all, he seemed to like it in return. He liked it when you pushed his buttons and you did as well. The soft sex wasn’t something to brush past but when he got that punishing pace going on. You wouldn’t be able to walk for the rest of the day until he healed you, or not. It all depended on his whole mood.

Your body was simply turned around, still on your knees but facing the door into your apartment. Reverse cowgirl. He liked them both. This way, he still had a show of power over you.

“Two can play that game,” he growled in your ear, causing a shiver to run up your spine. Khonshu knew what you liked. You’ve played this game many times before. The both of you understood how tease or get what you wanted from the other. In this play, the god had the reins, like usual. Every once in awhile, he’ll allow the smallest of control over to you. That’s how much he loves and trusts you. Far more than his Avatar.

One of his hand strokes down your back. From pinkie to thumb, it was nearly able to touch your sides. You moan and rock your hips again. “Come on, Khonshu. You know what I want,” you demand. Both of your hands gripped his thin thighs. The old wrappings that covered the majority of his body lightly scratched your skin. It wasn’t the softest of materials but it made up him.

There was his famous laugh filling the air. Both hands latching onto your thighs. “I do, Little Bug. But you’re begging…” he groans lowly, head tilted back. You wanted to reach back and run a hand underneath his beak. This position didn’t allow you to do that. Instead, you rested all of your weight down on his clothed cock. “It does wonderful things to me.”

“Like when I beg you to fuck me all night long, under your shining moon,” you partially asked as if you didn’t know that something he favored. His grip tightened, head leveling down. “Like when I beg for you to cum inside of me, filling my pussy up as yours.” Khonshu growled and tugged back at you. “Like when I beg for you let me cum all over your cock.”

At the next moment, your pussy was filled. Two hands grasped at your sides and pressed you flushed with his hips. A high pitch moan ripped from your throat as you clawed at his thighs. There was a presence of pain but an amount you liked. From the nearby window, sun light kissed your skin gently.

Your back arched fully, head completely tilted back and stared wide eyed at the bird god. What you had said pushed him to the point you were silently asking for. A hand came around held the front of your throat. His wrappings lightly scratched there as he lightly stroked the skin at your throat. “You speak the truth, Stardust. The night may not be on us but I will fuck you happily,” he mumbled close to your ear. His beak rubbing against your cheek.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned and rose your hips only for them to fall, forcing him back into you. He groaned as well, his own hips bucking up. The force causing you to rise and fall down once more. Your pussy clenched at the movement. It felt good, so good.

Khonshu started his pace, reasonably quick and hard. It had you bouncing on his cock with quiet skin-to-cloth slapping. You continued to gaze into the pits of his eye-sockets with his hand on your throat. “That’s my good girl. I know you can cum on your god’s cock one more time.”

That hand moved back to your thigh then lifted your whole body up. The tips of your toes the only thing touching the ground now with your back pressed against his chest. The metal crescent lightly digging into your back but didn’t take away from the pleasure. Khonshu’s bony cheek pressed to yours as he groaned. His hips pounding harshly as his speed increased. Your head thrown back and rested on his shoulder.

Your hands scrambled for purchase and found his wrist the closest thing. This new position made his cock slide against your g-shot stronger. Stars appeared in your eyesight. Fuck, you were close once more. A feeling you couldn’t wait to relish in with your god.

“Khonshu, please. I wanna cum. Cum with me, please-please-please-please,” you cried out and clung to him like a life-line. You wished for him to fill and claim you like all those times before.

A reminder never hurt.

He kept that same pace you always loved up. His body curling up around yours. A knowing action of his closing orgasming. Every time, he sounded so beautiful when he came. The moan of his life time was something you would never pass up.

A door slamming closed brought your head up, knocking into Khonshu’s skull. It made you internally cringe but your eyes snapped to the front door. Marc stood there, gaze wide and locked onto your exposed form. A plastic white grocery bag in his left hand.

The moon god behind you froze, cock still halfway inside of you. They were staring the other down for a few countless moments. “Problem?” he hissed then started his pace again. You were fighting against how your pussy throbbed at the man watching your actions. But actions speak louder than words. Your head rested once more on Khonshu’s shoulder.

“I-I thought you didn’t wa-want him to see,” you teased then moaned when the god hit something deep in you. Past memories of the god being possessive filled your mind. At times, it was hilarious to see such a god throw a tantrum about Marc seeing more skin than Khonshu allowed. Other days, it could get annoying easily. A small part of you liked to tease him about it. Though, a moment like this wasn’t what you expected. Nevertheless, you felt his fingers grip harder. There were going to be bruises on your thighs by the end of the night.

“He can see but cannot touch what’s mine.” Khonshu made that clear with a particular harsh thrust. “Now, tell me who you belong to and you can cum again.” Once more, his possessive side shone threw the brightening morning.

“Yours! I’m yours, Khonshu! All yours,” you cried out and held on tighter. Then, you came. Harder than ever before. The strength of a god was the only thing able to keep you from tensing up all the way. Your body trying to curl up on itself. Khonshu quickened his pace and drew whole body tremors from you. Until he stilled, cock fully sheathed and throbbing inside of you. Your nose nuzzled against his cheek as your body twitched against his hold.

Your chest rose and fell drastically, gaze blankly staring at the white ceiling. A hand laid firmly on your stomach and reminded you of the situation. Red covered every inch of your face without missing a beat. There was no way in the world you could look at Marc, Steven, or Jake the same way. Not after what Marc had just watched and experienced. Without any control, your pussy clenched around Khonshu again.

Khonshu’s other hand came down circled your clit. The overstimulated nub throbbed painful. “No, Khon, no. It hurts,” you whined and weakly pushed his hand away; given a few minutes, you could probably go again. The god listened without hesitation then lifted his head.

“Enjoy the show?” he questioned. You easily knew there was a smirk on his feature even though he couldn’t physically show it. This side of him wasn’t something you were entirely used to but you could get accustomed to easily.

“Khonshu, what the fuck?” Marc’s voice sounded higher than normal. You opened an eye to see red dusting his own cheeks. The bag in his hand had been dropped to the hardwood floor hazardously. A can of vegetables had rolled out. “Don’t we have some business to do,” he grunted with his jaw tense.

“This business was more important,” Khonshu chattered back then easily pulled himself from you. A flush of his white cum spilled from your pussy and onto the hardwood floor. You shivered at the feeling and closed your legs. Yet the god wouldn’t allow that. “Ah-ah, Stardust. Don’t hide yourself from your god. Not when I’ve filled you so perfectly.” His finger took a small scoop through the cum that painted your thighs and pressed it back in. Your back arched with a whine piercing the quiet air.

“Khonshu,” Marc warned and refused to look in your general direction. The god chuckled before placing you on the couch behind you. A familiar blanket was pulled over your naked form.

“I’ll let you sleep in, Little One. You humans do need your sleep.” He pressed his cheek to your forehead in a mock kiss. “And a god can be tiring.” Khonshu stared down at you for a few moments before turning around to face Marc. His staff somehow returned to his grasp.

As much as you wanted your god to stay with you, the night may be over but vengeance never stopped. He would return. The two of you could dance to this quiet song all over again.

Before sleep claimed you once more, you shifted your eyes over to the man. Out of the corner of his eye, you saw him gazing at you as well. When your eyes met, his flashed away to the mirror close by. Then, darkness is all you see.

#khonshu #khonshu x reader #khonshu smut #smut #marc spector #he gets a show #poor marc #sex with bird man #marc is horrified #whoops #possessive Khonshu

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clits-and-clips · 26 days

Note

Hey…as someone who has been in a similar position I truly believe you have to give it time and sad to say…cease contact for while. I know dude…it seems impossible it seems scary probably gut wrenching, but your health comes first. If you’re worried about time honestly fuck time. Everyone heals in their own way not everyone bounces back immediately. Not everyone handles situations the same and that’s okay.

You don’t even have to go cold turkey on communication. I always say to myself work with the issues instead of against it. Slowly kind of weening off also is a valid option.

I know the fact that it feels like it’s hurting you more than him and yeah that shit stings man. But again you have to take care of yourself. Even if you’re shitting crying and shaking it will become more bearable. Yes you will have these days and again THATS OKAY!! Regressing is part of the process of healing just try your hardest not to dwell and stay active.

It took me almost a year or two to get over that bond I had with my ex, attachment as well. Even though the thought of him moving on still kinda makes me feel a way, but I’ve realized it’s more so I’m afraid of being left behind stuck in the same place while possibly he flourishes in life. There are differences in our situation so I can only speak so much, but a lot of what you’re going through emotionally wise I get it man.

Like rn it’s hard for me to be social and have relationships with people because I’m scared honestly lol. Even platonically. At this point, I’m just taking this time to get to know myself and pay more attention to my hobbies. I’m also trying to force myself to do more things alone and volunteer places like community gardens and pantries. I’m not even there to make connection with people. if I do, cool, but It’s more so exposure therapy for me lol.

You got this man. Always give yourself, patience, grace and kindness. That’s my mantra lately lol.

I know I’m just a stranger but I do care. I don’t ever want anyone to feel this way.

Stay well and busy chief 🫡

Not talking to him at all has been difficult and I haven't managed to do it except for one day so far. I've been going up and down so much and just cannot accept that it's over. I honestly don't know where to go from here. I never thought we would ever break up so it's fucking hard. I do worry if I dont give him space and stop messaging that I'm going to push him away tho. The only way to stop that from happening is to focus on me which I'm trying so so hard to do, but none of it seems worth it which I've said before. I feel stupid cause I've said all of this before and I can't stop going on a loop at this point.

I appreciate the message and I will try and keep it in mind. I know I'll move on eventually but right now it's not what i want. All I think about is mending it and being with him again but I think its hurting me more than I'd like to admit. No matter how many times people and family tell me I need to accept it I just can't. And I know it takes effort to focus on the good and time and space to make it happen but I just don't see the light at the end of the tunnel yet. I have no friends to hang out with to take my mind off it, no job to go to every day, and as much as I'd like to get a job I have struggled so hard with my anxiety it just seems impossible. Anyway thank you again I appreciate it♡♡

#ask #anon #fml haha i must be so annoooyyyiiinnnggg

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sansxfuckyou · 1 year

Text

A poet without his words

(@sobredunia, your fanart spurred me on to actually put this idea onto paper, so know that you're responsible for this depiction of cruel gods, homosexual websites and a little bit of gore, and I have put world building into this fucker, I'm begging you to ask me about the worldbuilding please. Also, @godmodebeginswithlesbians and @max-the-hecker, it wouldn't feel right if I didn't subject you two to my insanity as well, and choosing Tumblrs sibling was way harder than it should've been, I have never stuffed so many shisty references into one fic)

"Twitter, don't go," Tumblr pleaded to his love as he tried to stand, only making eye contact with now cold eyes, once warm, those beautiful wings resting at the hip and ears closed up.

"Tumblr, what good will a poet be without any words," Twitter ushered softly as he turned from his partner, shoes clicking gently on marbled floor, his phrase sounded like a question, but Tumblr couldn't answer.

Yahooo stood tall above Tumblr, a blade in her hand, Tumblr knew exactly what was coming as he lay on the ground. His throat was raw, his vocal chords were torn, his tongue, the last thing he used to tell his tales was still perfect. And his mother had heard enough of it, his poems, beautiful with a darker lining upon first glance always rang true as cruel in her ears.

A hand gripped the back of Tumblrs neck, satin gloves soft despite the tight grip as he lifted to be at the height of the godess who took him in and taught him how to weaponize words. He never knew it would be his downfall until he started to cry for mercy, begging his mother to release him, saying he'll change his words, change his ways. Yahoo didn't care, didn't hear any of it as she plunged the holy blade under his tongue, severing veins as she cut it out into naught but a nub.

With a thud Tumblr hit the ground and he spat, a deep purple blood spilling from his lips as his tongue hit the floor in a puddle of violet that turned navy after exposure. He could only stare up at Yahoo who dismissed her holy blade and crouched down beside him as he cried silent tears, they slid down his face. She held his chin in her hands as she brought him to make eye contact, a soft smile graced her expression as that same purple blood continue to drip past Tumblrs lips, slowed now as his tongue healed over.

"Don't worry, it'll regrow, and next time, you won't make the same mistake twice," Yahoo said gently as she looked at her son, helping him up, as navy blood hit his purest of white dress shirts, it stained as red and never since washed out, "you are the closest I'll have to an heir, a useless one at that."

Tumblr only nodded in response, wiping tears from his face as he held his mothers hand, she led him away from the stained marble, away from the feathers Twitter left. He washed himself after his mother handed him a deep navy suit that matched his eyes, the water he bathed in smelt deeply of lavender with hints of ginger. A combination of smells that has soothed his frayed nerves since he was child, since he first found Twitter in a lavender patch and had a meal rich in ginger and onions with the demigods father Chrome.

Years passed as they stayed friends, turning to lovers even as Tumblrs twin 4chan said not trust him. When Tumblrs soon to be born demigod sister, MySpace, ended up naught but a loss and Yahoos mortal stood at her side while mourning the death of an unborn child, Twitter stood by Tumblr. For weeks as Tumblr mourned without 4chan, Twitter stood by his side and they kept each other uplifted through the pain of it all.

Happy memories couldn't last forever though, and that Tumblr was made aware of during a simple game of dodge ball with the rest of the demigods. He wasn't a demigod himself, but Yahoo gave him her blessing and took him from his deceased mortal parents to give him a better life, a poet to tell tales, but he played games instead. He played all sorts of game with his demigod twin 4chan, but he loved dodge ball the most of them all, he never stopped dodging and he was always the last one standing.

He caught the red orb flying at his face, and a vision washed over him like his mothers friend, Apollo said it might when he touched the forbidden object. Who in the fuck makes a dodge ball the forbidden object? He dropped it and made haste off the playing field into the forests he knew better than anyone else, and Twitter followed him, struck by worry. Questions were asked when he found Tumblr, crying, the t shaped pin in his hair coming loose a bit as he let out shaky sobs for answers, refusing to tell Twitter what he saw no matter how often he asked until now.

Until the prophecy came true.

Tumblr slowly pulled on his suit, fabric soft against skin and tie tight around his neck as he made his way back out to the dining hall where Yahoo, her mortal and her blinded son 4chan ate. Tumblr sat beside 4chan and started to eat, everything he ate was fire against the torn and ruined flesh of his tongue, but he still ate. After dinner, full of near silent whimpers of pain from Tumblr as Yahoo and the mortal conversed, 4chan confronted Tumblr, his blind state doing little to prevent seeing the pain.

But Tumblr couldn't answer in anyway that 4chan could respond to without his voice or his eyes. So Tumblr whined, guttural noises escaped his torn vocal chords and 4chan shushed him as Tumblr shook with agony.

In a years time Tumblr could speak again, he didn't like to speak though, as his tales came out worse then before. He opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was weaponizing stunned wasps and Papyrus haiku, nobody liked him anymore. He didn't play games with the demigods, he only sat in silent torture with 4chan, his only friend and sibling. They watched the news together, well, 4chan listened, and when they saw in their pondering orb that it was almost time for Twitter to ascend under the assistance of a rich immortal they flipped. Tumblr did actually, 4chan was unfazed, heavily aware of the fact that Twitter would ascend, given how powerful Twitters father was.

"That traitorous asshole! I'll strangle him to death with scrolls chronicling destiels journey! I'll drown him in a gallon of sweet tea and start world war tea!" Tumblr shouted jumping up from the beanbag the two sat on, his suit nearly tore at the seams due to being worn brittle through anger management sparring, because of said sparring he had to get a manscaped prosthetic, his forked tongue slid between his cuspids.

When he realized his outburst he rapidly brought hands up to cover his mouth, maybe that was what Yahoo meant, about not making the same mistake. He only ever had vulgar things to say, which was what ruined her reputation, so why would she want him to be able to speak at all anymore? He sunk back down to the beanbag, pushing against 4chan, who was a lot taller than him due to godly genetics running through his body, he patted down Tumblrs long hair that was held in a bun at the moment. The t shaped clip hadn't come out of his hair in years, it was stained and had a dint, but it was his trademark, his calling card if you will.

Then Yahoo came downstairs, Tumblr lived in the basement with 4chan, they had separate rooms, barely, their mother was overjoyed, she looked full of energy for the first time in forever. Her dress, as always, a deep purple, silk and full of folds, it trailed behind her giantess form, even fully grown Tumblr barely stood at her waist, although he was only five foot five. Her smile looked almost drunk as her hair, tied in a long braid, was flung over her shoulder.

"Tumblr! 4chan! Did you hear the good news?" Yahoo asked as she tried to regain her composure, Tumblr and 4chan both stood, 4chan an entire one and half feet taller than Tumblr, who often wore boots with thick soles to make up for lack of height.

"Depends on the good news, mother dearest," 4chan said, reaching up to scratch at where his bloodied gauze was, his eyes never stopped bleeding that purple to green to red after Yahoo gouged them out to make sure he would never see horrible things again.

"Twitter is going to ascend with a rich immortal to guide him," Yahoo said, Tumblrs entire body tensed and he gritted his teeth, Yahoo noticed and picked him up by the scruff of his suit and he hissed at her, "you need to let it go."

"Make me," Tumblr spat before Yahoo dropped him, 4chan breaking his fall before they both hit the ground.

"You two really need to get dressed for the occasion, you look like rats, not the cute ones Tumblr got for his fortieth birthday, he's lucky he has my blessing," Yahoo said as she turned to leave, her blessing being eternal youth, and with that, his mentality hasn't since aged a day past sixteen, when the blessing was put on him, Yahoo leaned back to glare at Tumblr, "and you both have to come."

"Well shit," was what Tumblr said, mind blank, 4chan was already on the move searching for his best scuzzy little fuck varsity jacket full of tears and covered in patches, he only wore it with sweatpants or ripped jeans, tonight was a ripped jeans night, "any outfit ideas."

"Remember your first poem, about the man of greed who wore all green?" 4chan asked, Tumblrs eyes widened, oh, oh that poem, he laughs in embarrassment whenever he reads it, he even made an outfit for it.

"Of course I remember the first and most twinkalicious twink of them all," Tumblr said, he wished he could mince words the way he once could, 4chan grinned at the phrasing.

"Wear that outfit or the skeleton of many names," 4chan suggested, and Tumblrs shudder was audible, "I'm yanking ya, just wear the green jacket for it, the one with tails, and some skanky dress underneath."

"4chan, I may be a whore sometimes, but like hell I'll get that dressed up for Twitters ascension," Tumblr said, gesturing vaguely with his arms as he unbuttoned his suits jacket and started looking for his relatively less skanky dress, "but it has been a while since I busted out old faithful."

"Exactly, now get to it bro, we'll wow them with our impossibly shitty fashion sense," 4chan said as he slid his varsity jacket over top his pepe the frog shirt, he was already wearing jeans, he threw Tumblr what he assumed was the right dress.

And it was, Tumblrs face heated up as he left to put it on, rushing to slide out of once luxurious cotton that now chafed. Sliding on the dress itself was easy, he made it himself after all, and he knew how to get around awkward stitches and cuts. A slit on the left rode up his thigh, stopping mere inches from the braided belt around his waist, the fabric on his chest loose, one layer underneath, he assumed it was based off of a binders basic idea. The layer underneath was white and could be seen through the somewhat thin silk of the dress, the skirt part was opaque but faded out from a navy blue, to a purplish orange tone and finally into a deep black with sparkles of effervescent stars.

He groaned as he looked at himself in the mirror before taking his hair out of its bun, a deep navy tone with a few darker strips that teased to be sky black. Then he started grip bobby pins, stylizing and clipping back bits until he looked a lot more like an actual demigod than a mortal with a blessing. The t shaped clip stayed as he added the faintest amount of that deep navy to his eyes, they matched his pupils beautifully. When he returned he found 4chan holding up that old Onceler coat, the Truffula tree pin still in place, and the wet beast fur cleaned off by 4chan who was smirking.

"Asshat, hand it over, I'm ready to twink it up," Tumblr said as he gripped his jacket, pulling it over bare arms, quarter length sleeves felt awkward, leaving him no choice but to reach for the gloves, the feeling made him shudder but seen enough he was good to go, decked out just fine, with his scuzzy older sibling, whose shrimp pin is falling off, Tumblr readjusted it.

And then they waited.

And Yahoo called for them, and they rushed upstairs, their mother giving wary glances at their shitty fashion choices. She gave little more than a shrug of her shoulders before leading them out to the metaphorical chariot. The ride to where Twitter was to ascend was full of silence, 4chan awkwardly scratching at his gauze and Tumblr awkwardly fiddling with the Truffula pin on his suit. When they arrived, Tumblr was already a little bit pissed off and he hadn't even seen Twitter in his modest demigod outfit, looking like a mortal.

Chatting and conversing was held, reunions were had, and at some point 4chan ended up diverging away from Tumblr to make small talk with Reddit. When that happened, Tumblr headed straight for the drink table, he got compliments on his outfit, and one insult on his prosthetic to which he replied with a sharp 'Best shave your balls before I fucking make you'. It ended up directed towards Pinterest who appeared shocked at Tumblrs choice of words even as that forked tongue ran across incisors and lay limp between cuspids.

Tumblr stood idly at the drink table, sipping thoughtfully at a cup of punch until Newgrounds decided to get up in his business. Trying to talk and chat cause they used to be amazing friends before Yahoo cursed Tumblr, they're still friends though. And Tumblr can't help but quirk a brow at almost scenemo getup Newgrounds is rocking, the excessive gold tones make it less than scene or emo though.

"Hey! Great to see ya here man, it's been forever," Newgrounds said, grinning as he reached for a cup to pour himself a cup of punch, ladling the liquid into the cup with ease.

"Yeah," Tumblr said, hoping that if he used little words he wouldn't snap at Newgrounds.

"Sooo, I heard that 4chan got his eyes kinda, popped right on out, is it true?" Newgrounds asked, and Tumblr felt sick, 4chans eyes weren't popped out, he wasn't there to see it happen in real time, instead he found 4chan sobbing purple blood that stained green, but after training under Apollo, the past was his to see, and 4chans eyes were for a fact gouged out brutally, maybe if they were popped out, then 4chan wouldn't always wear gauze and would stop bleeding as well.

"They got gouged out, brutally, with a cork opener that has remnants of the ocular nerve still attached, the flavor on a fine red wine is, to put in simple terms, quite fucking nice," Tumblr snapped, a hiss to his tone and he slapped his hands over his mouth, he wondered why people even put up with him when he was like this, he wondered what Twitter would've done if he was around to see Tumblr like this.

The expression on Newgrounds face was almost shocked at the tone and choice of words, but he knew that Tumblr had gotten fucked up and couldn't control it. So instead of freaking out and scoffing and leaving Tumblr alone, he just took a little bit longer to respond than he used to.

"Oh, right, damn, it's just been a while since I last saw him, that's all, sorry man," Newgrounds said, placing a gloved hand on Tumblrs shoulder, the latter of the two easing completely.

"Naw, its cool, 4chan is still sensitive on the topic though," Tumblr said, leaning against the table slowly, brushing down the front of his jacket, his dress was chafing at his waist due to the jacket over top of it, but he ignored that.

The murmurs of the crowds silenced and the lights above dimmed, drawing everyones attention to where Twitter stood on a small elevated piece of ground. Gods he looked just as beautiful as the day Tumblr met him, freckles, brown hair, those pairs of wings just as well kept as the day he left. Tumblrs chest constricted, but he ignored as he watched the rich immortal walked up to Twitter alongside Chrome, the proud father of the demigod who was grinning.

"Today, we welcome Twitter into godhood," Chrome said as the immortal held up a necklace, a pendant on it that seemed to writhe, but Tumblr wasn't sure as he hadn't gotten his eyes checked to see if his eyesight was fine, he was human after all, "Musk, the necklace."

"Gladly," the immortal spoke before Twitter leaned down, the necklace resting over his perfect collarbones and chains glistening.

And then, the pendant started to dig itself into Twitters skin, nobody was shocked at this turn, except for Tumblr. Tumblr had never seen an ascension, 4chan had, he saw Youtubes ascension, and Newgrounds saw Facebooks ascension. Although Facebook got booted from godhood recently for reasons she didn't understand, she still showed up though.

As Tumblr watched in horror as Twitter started to shake, collapsing to the ground, poison running through his veins, all of the gods and demigods unfazed. As he cried out, he realized that he wasn't cut out for this, and because of that, he would have to undergo a much worse method of ascension. The immortal got a nod from Chrome before placing the cuffs on Twitters wrists, and Tumblr was bolting, but he slowed when gazes came to him.

And then Twitter spoke, pleaded.

"Help me Tumblr, please," Twitter begged, his ears full of tears and no other god could turn him down when he had that look, except for Internet Explorer and occasionally Safari.

"Tell me this Twitter, when I was on the ground, begging for you to help me, did you save me from losing my tongue?" Tumblr asked, purposefully letting his fork tongue stay lilting from between his lips, a deep navy tone on them due to the lipstick he always wore.

He only got a shaking sob from Twitter as pain wracked his body and a vigorous pain laden shake of his head. He tried to stand, to meet Tumblrs eyes, but he couldn't manage anything more than forearm support.

"Please, I'll gift you a thousand realms, I'll bring you to godhood with me, I'll give you anything," Twitter begged, he was leaning closer and closer to passing out as the poison pulsed faster and faster.

"That depends if you can answer my question," Tumblr said, grinning as he did so, leaning in such a fashion the glint of his prosthetic was caught in the light, a hand gloved in thneed perched at his waist, "do you like the color of the sky?"

Twitter could only give a drunken grin, the first thing Tumblr ever asked him. A hundred years ago it felt when they first met, and Twitter, Twitter still remember the answer.

"Which one?"

A thud and Twitter was done, merely unconscious, but he looked dead despite the unsteady rise of his chest. Chrome lifted his son before handing him to the immortal, for training to become a god and the immortal took him away. The crowd of the party dispersed, leaving Tumblr and 4chan as the last people, Reddit lingered alongside Newgrounds at the drink table, why waste a good drink?

"4chan," Tumblr began as he turned away from the elevated ground where Twitters ascension took place, he got a nod from 4chan as a sign that he heard, "are all ascensions like that?"

"Ask Reddit, he was around for Youtubes ascension," 4chan replied with as they headed to the metaphorical chariot where Yahoo was awaiting them.

Then Tumblr asked a question 4chan didn't expect.

"Do you think Twitter will be okay?"

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numinousmysteries · 4 months

Text

Devil's Advocate

What if the Jersey Devil didn’t die? Or, the Mulder/Jersey Devil fic no one asked for. With MSR undertones because I’m not a monster. (This started as a joke in this post and then wouldn’t leave my brain.)

Note: This story contains mentions of non-consensual sex.

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

Scully glances through the rearview mirror at the detained suspect in the backseat. The woman’s nakedness is concealed by the emergency blanket from the trunk of their car. A pair of handcuffs around her wrists is the only thing stopping her from attacking them. They’ve rolled down the car’s two front windows, but her fetid odor still permeates the air.

The park ranger managed to take her down with two powerful tranquilizer darts as she retreated into the woods. While Scully cuffed her and checked her pulse, Mulder convinced Detective Thompson that the woman belonged in federal custody and that they’d be taking her back to DC.

The tranquilizer wore off after a few miles on the road and they’ve been listening to her growl and struggle against the seatbelt. Mulder called the woman beautiful earlier and now, as she observes her in the mirror, Scully feels inclined to agree. Even with the thick layer of dirt covering her face, Scully can see she has elegant, almost regal features: high cheekbones, plush lips, and strong eyebrows, perfectly shaped without ever having made the acquaintance of a tweezer.

“Dr. Diamond should be back before us, should we take her straight to him?” she asks Mulder, her voice low even though she doubts the woman in the backseat can understand language. “I think he’d want a chance to examine her.”

Mulder nods slowly but hesitates. “Maybe she’d like to get cleaned up first. I can take her to my apartment to shower.”

“Your apartment?” Scully gawks at him. “That would be incredibly dangerous. She already tried to rip a chunk out of you.”

“You can help me, Scully,” he says as casually as if he’s asking her to fill out an expense report.

“I have a tub at my place. That might be easier.” This is partnership, she thinks. I bail you out of jail. I bathe your captive neanderthal.

“Perfect,” Mulder replies, crunching a sunflower seed between his teeth.

***

That’s how the two of them end up on their knees, their clothing soaked through with splashed water, wrestling the Jersey Devil into submission in Scully’s clawfoot bathtub. She’s injected the woman with enough pentobarbital to kill a man three times her size, but it’s only weakened her enough to let them get her into the tub without any fatal wounds.

As the dirt washes off her skin—and collects in a grimy, black film at the bottom of the tub that Scully knows will take a while to scrub out later—she can see the woman’s skin is a rich, tawny color. She’s lean, all sinewy muscle without any extraneous fat. Thick, dark hair cascades midway down her back, and also covers her legs, arms, and pubic area. There’s a primitive, untamed grace to her. Her long limbs move like a dancer’s, even as they kick and swipe at Mulder and Scully.

“Easy now,” Mulder says as he positions her head under the faucet to wash her hair. Scully watches as he tenderly shields her eyes from the water with one hand while running the other through her matted mane.

Even though she’s clearly never taken a bath in her life, and must be completely overwhelmed by the sudden exposure to modern plumbing, the woman softens under Mulder’s touch. Her shoulder blades ease down her back and the muscles of her face relax. Scully’s about to warn him to be gentle with her hair, to avoid pulling at any of the knots, but she can see he’s already slowly working through them without tugging at her scalp.

“I used to have to detangle Sam’s hair after a day at the beach,” he explains, noticing her consternation. “My mom was too rough so she’d never let her do it. But I just plopped her down in front of the TV and took my time. Hers was thick, like this.”

Scully watches in silence as he weaves his fingers through her strands. The Jersey Devil’s fists are clenched as she cautiously surveys her surroundings for threats, but she appears calm otherwise. She even bows her head slightly, giving Mulder better access to the lengths of her hair.

“I think that’s as good as we’re gonna get,” he says finally. “Do you have anything she could wear?”

“She’s much taller than me and her shoulders look a lot broader,” she replies. “But I’ll see what I can find. Are you okay alone in here with her for a moment?”

Mulder nods, pulling at the chain to drain the tub. The sudden movement of the water jerks the woman to alertness, but Mulder calms her down as he helps her to her feet.

When Scully returns with an old nightgown that she thinks originally belonged to Melissa, the Jersey Devil is standing nude in the center of her bathroom and Mulder is toweling her dry. She notices a soft rippling of skin beneath the woman’s navel—diastasis recti—and wonders how her children will survive without her in the woods.

“This should do,” she says, holding up the flannel nightgown for Mulder’s and, she supposes, the woman’s approval.

She helps Mulder pull the nightgown over the woman’s head and thread her arms through the sleeves. The fabric strains across her chest and back, and the hem falls just above her knees, but it’ll work for now. The woman grabs at the foreign material against her torso, more in curiosity than anger.

“Her hair is still wet,” Mulder says, lifting the weight of it off her back to keep the nightgown dry. “I doubt she’ll let us blow dry it.”

“Here,” Scully says, reaching for an elastic tie next to her sink. She twists the woman’s long hair into a low bun at the base of her neck, securing it with the tie. “At least this’ll keep her clothing dry.”

Scully steps back and takes a long look at the woman. With her face clean, and her features visible now that her hair is pulled back, she looks even more beautiful than before. Stunning, actually. Scully looks over at Mulder who’s staring at her, mesmerized.

He slowly takes her by the shoulders, turning her around so she can see herself in the mirror about the sink.

“Look,” he says, pointing in the glass. “That’s you.”

The Jersey Devil takes in her visage with a confused stare. She brings a fingertip to the reflection of her forehead and seems surprised that she touches glass and not flesh. She touches her cheek and watches as her mirror image does the same. Without losing eye contact with her reflection, she reaches out to run her fingertips over the image of Mulder’s face next to hers in the glass. Then she repeats the same gesture on his skin.

“That’s me,” he says quietly. “Mulder.”

The intimacy of the scene brings a blush to Scully’s face. She feels as if she’s watching something she shouldn’t be witness to.

The Jersey Devil’s hand is still on Mulder’s face when a growl erupts from her stomach.

“She must be hungry,” Scully says. “Let me see if I have anything she can eat.”

Stepping out of the bathroom, she lets out a deep exhale and feels the tension loosening in her neck and shoulders. She hadn’t been aware how rigidly she’d been standing until after she walks away. Opening the door to the fridge, she nearly gasps as the cold air hits her skin, still flushed from the hot steam of the bathroom. In the fridge, she finds a package of raw boneless, skinless chicken breasts. These were supposed to last her for a week’s worth of dinner, but the Jersey Devil’s hunger seems more pressing.

She peels off the clear plastic wrapping and places the package on her kitchen table.

“Bring her in here,” she calls out to Mulder. He emerges shortly after, leading the Jersey Devil slowly to the kitchen.

Her nostrils flare when she catches a whiff of the meat. Leaning over the table, she takes a chicken breast in each hand and shoves them into her mouth.

“Can she eat this raw?” Mulder asks.

“She’s been eating raw human flesh,” Scully shrugs. “From an evolutionary standpoint, her teeth are clearly sharper than ours, and she likely has stronger stomach acid for better digestion. Besides, she’s probably been exposed to far more germs and parasites in the wild than we’d ever encounter in commercial meat.”

The Jersey Devil quickly devours all four chicken breasts. She brings the styrofoam packaging, still wet with juice from the meat to her mouth but Mulder pulls her hand away. She growls and lunges to bite his wrist but he’s able to pull back quickly enough to dodge her.

“I think we’re going to need a lot more meat,” he says. “I can pick some up on the way back to my place.”

“What?” Scully snaps, startling the Jersey Devil. “You can’t be seriously thinking about taking her back to your apartment. This woman belongs in some sort of facility. We should take her to Dr. Diamond.”

“Come on, Scully,” he says quietly. “It’s 8 p.m. on a Friday night. Let’s wait until Monday to bother him again.”

She gives him a confused frown. Since when has Mulder cared about not bothering anyone when it comes to the paranormal? Right after their first case, he called her nearly at midnight. He’s called even later since then on more than one occasion and she’s had to convince him the FBI forensics lab wouldn’t appreciate him demanding an analysis of purported ectoplasm at 3 a.m.

“You don’t have a bed, Mulder,” she says, exasperated. “Where is she going to sleep?”

“She can take the couch. I’m sure it’s a lot more comfortable than wherever she typically spends the night. And I can sleep on the floor. I’ll be fine.”

Scully sighs. “I have an air mattress you can borrow.”

***

After helping Mulder secure the Jersey Devil in the backseat of his car and load the air mattress (along with a few more syringes full of sedatives just in case) in the trunk, Scully doesn’t see him until Monday. She calls to check in a few times over the weekend and each time he promises her he’s fine, and that his guest is behaving.

She worries when he isn’t at the office when she arrives on Monday morning. He’s usually there before her, preparing a slideshow or digging through old files. She’s about to call him at home when he staggers in, cradling his right forearm with his left hand.

“Mulder, are you alright? What happened?” she asks, standing to meet him and reaching for his arm.

“It was an accident,” he says.

She helps him out of his suit jacket. There’s blood seeping through the white of his dress shirt just above the wrist. She guides him to his desk chair and unbuttons the cuffs on his sleeve. He winces as she rolls the sleeve over his wound. She removes a layer of blood-soaked gauze pad that he seems to have tried to hold in place with Scotch tape. Underneath, she sees what looks like two rows of teeth marks cut deeply into his skin. Upper and lower incisors.

“She bit you?”

“It was an accident,” he repeats.

“Mulder, this is bad. You need stitches. Antibiotics, probably, and a tetanus shot. Maybe even rabies postexposure prophylaxis.”

“You can do it, right?” he asks. “I can’t exactly waltz into an ER with human teeth marks on my arm.”

“Let me get my kit,” she says. This is partnership, she supposes. I don’t turn you into the authorities when you harbor a prehistoric beast woman. I dress your wounds when she attacks you.

“Besides,” Mulder calls out to her as she assembles her medical supplies from the other side of the office. “She doesn’t have rabies.” He sounds offended that she would suggest such a thing. “She liked her bath, remember?”

Scully rolls her eyes as she returns to him and elevates his arm on the surface of the desk. He winces as she cleans the wound with antiseptic solution.

“I don’t have anything too strong to help with the pain, but this is better than nothing” she says, injecting a local numbing agent into his forearm. “Just give it a second to kick in.”

“How did this happen?” she asks.

“It was—”

“An accident, I know,” she cuts him off. “But what were you doing when she bit you?”

“We were, um, on the air mattress together. It was a…” he trails off, brow furrowed as he searches for the right word. “A moment of passion.”

“Oh no, Mulder,” she sighs. “Please do not tell me you had sex with her.”

“She instigated it,” he says, defensively. “I was sleeping and I thought it was a dream…a very pleasant dream, mind you, but then I woke up and there she was. On top of me. When I tried to maneuver her off, she bit me. So I just kind of…went with it.”

“And I’m assuming you didn’t use protection?” she manages to ask through the shock.

“She didn’t give me much of a chance. Think she’s on the pill?”

Scully shakes her head. “I don’t need to tell you how irresponsible, dangerous, and downright stupid that was.”

She takes this moment to jab a gloved finger into the bite mark, a little more firmly than she might have otherwise. He doesn’t flinch. “Numb?” she asks.

“Mmmhmm,” he nods. “She lost her mate. I guess she thinks I’m her new one. Honestly, I know how strange this is going to sound, but I think we have a connection. A real one.”

The blood drains from Scully’s face. She isn’t sure if she should arrest Mulder or have him committed to a psychiatric hospital. She certainly isn’t going to congratulate him on this new relationship (not that she would ever call it that), which seems to be what he expects as he gives her a dumb grin.

“You can’t be serious,” she says after regaining her composure, keeping her eyes on the sutures she’s threading through his flesh and not his face. “Mulder, she raped you.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he angrily objects. “I’ll admit I was surprised but once I got my bearings, I can assure you I was a very willing participant. It was incredible. Totally animalistic. No self-consciousness, no self-awareness, nothing performative. I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

In the short time that they’ve been partnered, Mulder has had his memory wiped at a top secret military base and convinced her to believe in a 100-year-old liver eating monster. He told her his sister was abducted by aliens and insisted that they’d lost nine minutes. And yet this is the first time he’s rendered her completely speechless. She avoids his eyes as she finishes stitching up his arm and dabs away the remaining blood with a cotton ball.

“Come over for dinner sometime,” he says, as he rolls his sleeve back down. “You’ll see, she’s changed a lot. She’s more…evolved, if you will. I haven’t had to use any of the sedatives. Bring someone. It could be a double date.”

“Mulder, are you insane?” she hisses. “I’m not bringing anyone to meet your beast woman.”

He smiles and taps at her hip with the back of his index finger. “Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Agent Scully?”

“I’ll come,” she says, ignoring his last comment. “By myself. And only to make sure she doesn’t kill you.”

***

She puts off coming over for dinner until later in the week when Mulder finally wears her down. Standing outside his door, she feels nervous but isn’t sure why. She and Mulder have eaten meals together before, although usually at greasy roadside diners and never at one of their apartments. They haven’t spent much time together off the clock. If it weren’t for the presence of the Jersey Devil, she might think this was a date. Well, she reminds herself, it is a date, just not hers. She’s the third wheel in Mulder’s romantic evening with a neanderthal.

“Hey Scully, come on in,” he says, opening the door and taking her coat. “I ordered us a pizza, but she started without us. I hope you don’t mind.”

Scully peers into the kitchen and sees the Jersey Devil gnawing on what looks like a raw T-bone steak. Her hands are stained red with the myoglobin-tinged moisture dripping off the meat. On the table in front of her is a tray of more raw, red meat, piled high.

“I suppose that’s for the best,” Scully says.

“Come sit,” Mulder says, pulling out a chair for her. Before he can sit down himself, the buzzer at the front door rings. “Perfect timing,” he says.

When he leaves to get the pizza, Scully watches the other woman at the table. Mulder has managed to keep her clean and even changed her clothes. Instead of the nightgown she was wearing the last time Scully saw her, she’s dressed in an oversized gray t-shirt and a pair of men’s nylon basketball shorts that sag at the waist. Mulder’s clothes, she realizes.

Mulder returns, sets the pizza box on the table and fetches plates for them. “Help yourself,” he says.

“How’s she doing?” Scully asks. “How have you been?”

“We’re good. We’re figuring it out,” he responds between bites. “Now that she knows I’m not a threat, she’s much less violent. We spend a lot of time together. It’s nice to have a relationship that’s free of all preconceived societal expectations.”

Scully arches her eyebrow.

“Aren’t you the one who implied I should get a life?” He challenges.

“I guess I meant something more conventional, but I shouldn’t be surprised with you. Seriously though, Mulder, how do you see this working long term? Do you plan on introducing her to your parents?”

Mulder laughs. “I actually don’t think she’d be the most objectionable girl I’ve ever brought home.”

He reaches over and gently rubs the Jersey Devil’s back. She looks over at him but doesn’t move to attack. With his hand still resting on her back, she returns her focus to the food in front of her.

“See?” He asks proudly. “She likes me.”

“You bring her food and have sex with her,” Scully says skeptically. “Is that all it takes?”

“I’ve got good meat,” he says, and Scully nearly chokes on her pizza.

“Jeez, Scully, the steak. I’m talking about the steak. Get your mind out of the gutter,” Mulder smirks. “But really, if you think about it, it’s essentially your typical heterosexual dating ritual without any of the window dressing.”

“I think you’re grossly oversimplifying things,” she says. “What about communication? Companionship? The art of conversation? You’re an intelligent, verbose guy, Mulder. I’m having trouble picturing you in a relationship where there isn’t any intellectual discourse.”

“No verbal volleying, debating, or constantly being second-guessed? I get enough of that at work.”

Scully’s about to protest but he winks at her and any offense she felt melts away. She feels heat rising within her and she has to remind herself he’s her colleague and that his girlfriend, who has the capacity to physically rip her apart, is sitting in between them.

“I’m assuming you still don’t have any intention of taking her to Dr. Diamond,” Scully says, trying to change the subject. “Studying her could have major anthropological implications.”

“She’s not a science experiment,” he says. “That’s not the life she deserves.”

“And this is?” Scully asks. Next to her, the Jersey Devil picks pieces of meat out from under her long fingernails.

“I think she’s happy here,” Mulder says. “We’re both happy.” She isn’t sure if he’s trying to convince her or himself.

After dinner, Mulder gently cleans the Jersey Devil’s hands and face with a dampened washcloth. She seems to like the attention, or at least doesn’t resist. Once he’s done, she brings a finger to the corner of his lips, wipes away a spot of pizza grease, and then takes it into her own mouth. It’s somewhere between a sexual gesture and a primate grooming ritual.

Mulder asks Scully if she wants to stay and watch a movie with them, but she politely declines. He gets up to walk her to the door and Scully can feel the Jersey Devil’s eyes on them, as if she’s ready to fight for her mate.

On the drive home, Scully thinks there’s no way this can possibly last.

***

Somehow, though, it does last. For a while, anyway. Mulder jokes about having to pick up a second job to support her carnivorous diet, but he doesn’t show up to work with bite marks again. He spends less time at the office now that he has someone to come home to. Sometimes Scully catches him calling his apartment from the phone on his desk and leaving long-winded messages on his answering machine. “She likes to listen,” he tells her.

He leaves the Jersey Devil in his apartment with a fridge full of raw meat while they investigate a poltergeist in Philadelphia. When they return, she miraculously hasn’t torn his place to shreds.

It’s soon after the Eurisko case that Scully finds Mulder mopey and despondent in the basement office one morning. He’s working on paperwork and barely looks up when she arrives.

“Everything alright?” she asks and only gets a shrug in return.

“I’m sorry about Jerry,” she says. Caught up in solving the killings at Eurisko, she realizes he's barely had any time to mourn his former partner.

“It’s not that,” he replies, still glancing downward. “It’s…her.”

“Her, as in your…girlfriend?” Scully asks, the word like acid on her tongue.

Mulder nods. “She misses her children. I don’t think it’s been fair of me to keep her from them.”

“She told you that?”

“We have our way of communicating,” he says.

“Dating someone with kids can be challenging,” she says as if he’s in a relationship with a divorced working mom and not a nonverbal neanderthal.

“I think it’s time for her to go back to the forest,” he concedes.

***

They drive back to Atlantic City mostly in silence, the same trip they made weeks earlier but in reverse. The Jersey Devil is in the backseat again, free of restraints this time. She’s wearing a dress Scully hasn’t seen before: a short-sleeve, A-line dress made of soft cotton with thin pastel stripes. Mulder must have bought it for her. It's a good choice, she thinks, loose and comfortable without any buttons or zippers to fumble with. She’s surprised how normal the woman looks. Her hair is in a braid down her back which she can only assume is Mulder’s doing. Another thing he must remember from having a sister.

When they near the edge of the woods, the woman eagerly grabs at the child-locked door handle before Mulder even stops the car.

“She knows where we are,” he whispers to Scully. She nods in response.

They both get out of the car. Mulder walks around to open her door and unbuckle her seatbelt. She tentatively steps out of the car and towards the woods. Then she turns around and brings her hand to Mulder’s cheek. It’s like the first day in Scully’s apartment, when the Jersey Devil watched her and Mulder’s reflection in the mirror, only now they’re face to face. He leans in and kisses her.

Scully knows she should look away, but she can’t. When they pull away, they both have tears in their eyes. They nod at each other, and then she turns around and scampers away. Mulder comes to stand next to Scully and they watch until she disappears into the trees.

“Come on,” she says, taking him by the arm and leading him back to the car. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

He turns to her and smiles weakly through the tears. “Thanks, Scully,” he says. “Thanks for understanding.”

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever fully understand what this woman meant to Mulder, or what he possibly could have meant to her. But this, Scully knows for sure now, is partnership. I help you say goodbye. I bear your pain.

#this exists in a universe where mulder and scully get together later on and then scully teases him about this for the rest of their lives #txf #xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #x files #xfiles #the x files #mulder/other #it's a mulder/jersey devil fic #i know #i'm sorry

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marinecorvid · 4 months

Text

Going through victory road in bw2 rn (both delightful in its winding length and a slog all at once) and so the game’s not technically over plot wise, we’ve gotten past the main plasma part so the real story’s just about done and I’m trying to find ways to merge my hcs with it to make it more compelling…. Nate (who goes by his middle name of ailbhe) in my ‘verse (which is mostly based on my adoring following of a semi-nuzlocke comic someone was doing on deviantart and never finished… TT-TT) comes across as a very mild mannered young man, very friendly; very battle competent, very thorough. takes his losses with grace. (tbh isn't this a common characterization tho........ whatever)

I started out my playthrough w the vague notion that while Nate is, on paper, going on his pokemon journey because he’s good at battling and enjoys it, he has the primary objective of figuring out What The Hell Happened To Gwyn (Hilda), the cousin he very much looked up to; he's using the excuse of adventuring to retrace her footsteps, and the goal of becoming champion-class to be able to access otherwise restricted routes and resources. (I’m almost glad in a way bw2’s plot was so bare, gives me opportunity to Go Ham (Chiquita Dave) in the sandbox of canon). I’m… not sure if I still want to go by that angle tho. I think his mom and aunt (gwyn’s mom) were very shaken by gwyn going missing, understandably, and I’d think it’s the kind of thing that would make his mom very worried about him on his journey, to the point where she’s both very excited for him to get out there but terrified something like that would happen to him, so he’d promise to stay out of trouble and focus on battling, which should’ve been easy bc team plasma’s been officially disbanded for years…. but it’s a promise he can’t keep. tying into the trend of people projecting both truth and ideals onto him as a kyurem mirror, he also struggles in that gray area for a bit; to search for gwyn or not, and whether he wants to find her, or find out what happened to her (colress poses this particular dilemma when Nate talks about the two goals interchangeably).

Another reason I think why he does what he does and gets so involved in the plasma plot despite his own promises and the danger (Hugh’s subplot notwithstanding) is that he has an encounter with zekrom before gwyn goes missing, and while I don’t mean to write every object or creature of power as some vaguely eldritch subject, zekrom and reshiram existing as someone’s literal embodiments of the desire for ideals/truth makes their presence at least a little intense, especially if you haven’t had any exposure to that level of power before. anyways what happens is gwyn goes home after beating N and ghetsis and hangs there for a while after the craziness of bw, and at some point Nate and his mom come over to visit! and Nate is told hushedly and sternly not to go near the paddock behind the barn or whatever. and he says yes of course auntie But it’s entirely possible he forgets (or his curiosity gets the better of him) and he’s wandering around the farm property at nightfall and he wanders back to that paddock and it takes him a little bit to start to understand what he’s seeing. at first it looks like just a pile of black, which isn’t normal for the the paddocks, but then it starts moving, in shapes he doesn’t understand; but then they become wings, and a tail, and then a neck and a head and eyes like red embers are looking at him, seeing him, and as the blood is rushing in his ears and at some point every hair stood up on his body and he can taste the static on his tongue he understands who he’s looking at and why he wasn’t supposed to be back here. and then zekrom looks away and curls back up to resume its nap, bc Nate is so small compared to it both physically and in purpose, and even if he was enough to be regarded with anything beyond disdainful apathy he has sort of gwyn smell like her den mother, so that means they’re kin its human’s kin are extended the grace of neutrality, and as it resumes its sleep the electricity in the air fades but Nate’s still breathing like he run a mile and it’s still hard to hear the sound of the trees rustling, but then gwyn is there and her hand is on his shoulder and she’s guiding him back around the barn, and reality snaps back in to place at some point but he’s forever a changed man bc one does not simply have an encounter with one of the legendary dragons and feel unshaken by it (unless you’re like N, in which being able to understand pokemon makes the initial weirdness easier to handle; or not, in which case N is just that weird) (or like ghetsis, who’s got enough layers of delusion going on that it doesn’t bother him too too much)

But Yeah. It’s the kind of thing one stays up late thinking about, staring at the wall at 3 in the morning, feeling slightly disconnected from everything else. Kind of guy who seems normal on the surface but inside has something deeply wrong with him except not something wrong with him he's just had an encounter with a living god-spirit-thing that has changed him in some small but irrevocably important way that he can ignore 99% of the time but when that 1% hits.

anwyays still figuring stuff out just wanted to ramble for a bit. aces

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mermaidsirennikita · 2 years

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I adore Claudia and how complicated she is but also yes on the Lestat parts and the fact that her supposed first exposure to sex is when she watched two people go at it before killing the man, that part was hysterical to me. It's also kind of interesting how Lestat's human past (and then early vampiric one) has many similarities to Claudia's, but he won't talk about it with either of them and his more disconnected way of dealing with her emotional moments is another part that will just lead to the awaited conclusion of their life so far

I loooove the show's interpretation of Claudia soooo much. Bailey is a phenomenal young actress, and the way the show made explicit that Claudia actually had a pretty traumatic life BEFORE dying in a fire and being used to save the marriage of two vampires is... Amazing.

Exactly right with Lestat. I think that in many ways, vampirism was both a curse and a "saving grace" for Lestat and Claudia, whereas for Louis... he had more to give up. Louis did love his family, even if there were issues, and while he was quite oppressed as a gay Black man in early 1900s America would be, he was actually making a pretty good go of it. But the familial bonds really seem to be the kicker. Despite tensions in Louis's family and the trauma of losing his brother, I think that he had positive ties and emotional connections to people that Lestat and Claudia lacked.

However, Lestat also has the advantage of being frozen in time as an adult white man, whereas Claudia is frozen as an underage Black girl. Sooooooo. In many ways, beyond those of book!Claudia, she is trapped in an incredibly vulnerable place, and her mind is caught between adult and child. So she *can't* get the full deliverance through vampirism that Lestat has, which is why it makes sense that though she is very much HIS daughter in the sense of vampirism, a part of her remains caught between him and Louis. Lestat gives her the future that could theoretically empower her (but instead freezes her) and Louis offers the affection and love she wanted in life, but it's too late and tainted by the fact that she doesn't want to stay in place, she wants to move forward and develop.

And while Claudia is trapped, so are Lestat and Louis. Lestat is trapped in this cycle of soothing his own loneliness and need for love (no doubt inspired in part by those traumatic human ties I mentioned) and Louis is trapped in a well of being torn between regret and enjoyment of his immortality, and they're both using Claudia in different ways. For Lestat, she's someone who can "prove him right" to Louis (we should live my way) while also binding Louis to him. For Louis, she's a respite from Lestat being his only immortal companion, and in many ways represents, imo, the family he lost--she's his child, she's not white, she's the kind of daughter his mother would have wanted him to have, validating him as the kind of man he was "supposed" to be. (I think it's noooo mistake that Louis adopted Claudia shortly after being rebuffed by his mother in a scene that was blatantly coded to be more about his sexuality than his vampirism--nor is it a mistake that he proceeded to parade her in front of his family.)

But while Lestat and Louis both have love for Claudia in their own weird ways, neither one has the ability to recognize her as an individual separate from them. Louis will want her to be that eternal child, and to stay with him the way that Lestat wants to Louis to stay with him, to validate him and give him something to love--and Lestat sees Claudia as similar in a way that satisfies him... But she's too similar. I think in some ways she actually freaks him out a bit on that level. It's satisfying, but it's also a lot like looking in a mirror. No doubt, he was projecting a LOT onto that awful burning scene.

Louis is a close father and Claudia's favorite, but Lestat gives her things she'd want from another parent that Louis *cannot* offer (accepting her appetites, encouraging her "talents", letting her be herself) while also being emotionally withholding and punishing her in a way that I suspect he's wanted to punish himself. Which is like. Classic abusive parenting lmao. Lestat is doing things to and withholding things from Claudia that are really about his own self loathing (and, I suspect, jealousy of her bond with Louis) more than her. Whereas Louis gives her love, but cannot understand who she is.

ANYWAY! LOVE IT! YET ANOTHER GREAT DAY AT THE FARM!

#interview with the vampire

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vthetease · 9 months

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One that was a beautiful poem, and two sorry for your loss

Thank you! I'll take a moment to talk about a topic I'm super passionate about which is suicide prevention and mental health awareness so this is warning it's gonna get really sad

This song always makes me think of his as he was such a gifted piano player and so graceful like the song but the dissonance slowly breaks your heart

Luke was one of the most most gentle, considerate, and talented individuals I've ever had the pleasure of sharing space with. He was brilliantly smart and played piano, cello, keyboard, and clarinet. We talked often in our classes together and back stages making jokes when waited for shows to start, and bring raised religiously, he had lots of questions about the real world and my exposure to it.

Our sophomore year, on a vacation to Nashville, Luke was harassed by several boys our year for taking photos at the pool. While I don't condone taking photographs of unaware people, it should be known that same year our varsity quarterback was expelled for actually taking pictures up a teachers skirt, so when they took video cornering him in the hotel until he admitted he was gay...

He struggled with his sexuality and depression for so long, and I was just a teenage girl myself. It wasnt always easy being Luke's friend. I had my own shit to sort, and Luke sometimes felt like the little brother nagging you to be better. The day he asked me to smoke weed for the first time sent a chill down my spine. He was hurting so bad, he'd given up on his ethics and moral code to soothe the pain.

I've seen many reactions to getting stoned, but I was so hurt when he was angry with me.

" give me that shit. stupid ass drugs "

In my anger I hadn't realized how scared he must have been

I took him home to sleep it off

And he started to get much more distant, but still around like a shell of his old, bubbly self

His first attempt was in the garage; he left the car on with the garage door closed.

His little sister found him, pulled him out and called his parents

She just graduated holding his picture

His second attempt, he did at school; he took half a bottle of caffeine medication, and collapsed. He was ambulanced to the hospital and there for three weeks for treatment. Medications and therapy and isolation

When he came back, so behind on class, and unfamiliar with his pieces for band, he looked me in the eyes and said,

" i go to where I want to die and look sometimes. If I try again... I'm going to succeed."

I have never hated someone so much as that moment. To put that on my shoulders when I can barely spend a night sober. I don't want you around me so I can influence you, and now Im responsible for keeping you alive

I went to an adult at the school, one of the only ones who truly knew what was going on, and she told me,

" you hit rock bottom and came back up. Sometimes you just have to let them ride it out. "

This is the same the woman who I told I was being abused and replied, " no you and him don't have the healthiest relationship but it could be worse!!"

On Monday, November 17th, 2019, he sat down at his table of 4.0 math whizzes and said,

" what would happen if you jumped off a bridge?"

And unbeknownst to those poor boys, with their textbooks and brains, they would go through gravity and angle prospects with a boy who would jump from an interstate overpass less than a mile away in less than 12 hours.

Our last interaction, in 7th period, study hall, that day, he asked me to borrow my computer charger, and instead of coming to sit next to me, he took it back to his seat. He brought it back at the end and he stared blankly at the wall before final bell.

I bump his shoulder and ask if he's good

Luke's last words are ones I cant say alone to this day

"it's just one of those days, I guess."

He didn't not leave a note, or a text

He did not say goodbye to me

He is buried in a graveyard less than 1000 meters from my mother's house

This song is the only real memory of the time I have after; its the only thing that helped my out of body feeling

I have never been the same without him, and will always wonder if I could have done more.

I miss him and go sit with him and talk with him alot.

It was painful to write this. I am crying. But you should be too. Everyone should. Luke deserved better and my community failed him.

I would do anything in my power to ensure no one else has to experience this pain. Because it hurts today just as awful as it did years ago.

Please, if you are struggling. Think about your loved ones and those who love them. Your pain will not disappear. It will transfer to everyone around you.

I genuinely would rather hear you rant, cry or scream than hear your obituary

You are so loved, and thank you for your love as well 💕 treat eachother gently

#suicideprevention #depression #anxiety #mental illness #mental health #mental health awareness #suicide awareness #bullying #awareness #sad #writing #real life #trigger #non tickles #tickling #tease

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