#Flesh Carver

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Flesh Carver by Jesper Ejsing

[spacedlexi]

speaking of fucked up overly hated female twdg characters i find it Super Interesting how people will say carver was the best villain in the whole series, but when lilly is literally just a successful carver (iron fist leader of a community turning children into soldiers) suddenly shes a bad/lame villain for some reason 🤔

[brogurt]

i don't know if my dead space comic will ever see the light of day but i might post a wip...or two

[thedragonagelesbian]

belladonna hawke is like if an eldest daughter transmuted herself into a youngest daughter to avoid dealing with her problems

[purplequay]

love looking up dnd homebrew stuff and being like omg ... this is just like the skip flesh cult ....??!?!

[shatteredsnail]

why are all my favorite characters in the second arc i’m going to go insane

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!Reader Series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

Summary: You and Eddie finally get some much-needed alone time, and a confrontation at the Hawkins Preschool talent show tests your commitment to each other.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), protected p in v, fingering, oral (m! receiving), lil bit of edging, broken condom, breeding kink, mentions of Eddie's past, bullying, fighting, Jason Carver's mere existence, mostly fluff and smut before the angst of the next two chapters

WC: 9.2k

Chapter 15/20

Divider credit to @saradika Cutie pie Eddie pic credit to @/sunceddie

--

You wake up to an alarm set a full hour later than it typically is on a Friday morning, and the extra rest has you walking on air. Or maybe this newfound floatiness comes from knowing Eddie will be arriving soon, the two of you playing hooky from work to spend the day together. Your insides ignite with a rebellious fire, like you’re skipping class to smoke cigarettes underneath the bleachers, rather than taking a paid sick day that you’ve rightfully accrued.

Sunlight streams through the window, just a bit brighter than the usual smears of pink and orange that you normally see when you awaken. And while you still have to drag your yet-to-be-caffeinated body out of bed, the walk to the bathroom seems slightly less daunting. 

You can’t let Eddie in fast enough when the intercom buzzes thirty minutes later. You were never naïve to the fact that dating a parent would mean having less privacy; what you didn’t know was how strongly you’d crave him. 

Your hands are all over him the moment he steps through the door, simultaneously too much and not enough. Fingers lazily drape across the nape of his neck, and you can feel that his hair is already frizzy from the early April rain. Your breath hitches when you catch a glimpse of the burgeoning outline along the seam of his gray sweatpants. 

His lips find yours easily, aiming to meet in the middle, but you press on your toes and bring your core to his. Your pajama top is thin; not sheer, but flimsy enough that he can feel the way you react to the chill of his leather jacket. 

“Hello to you, too,” he murmurs with a laugh, muffled by a kiss that catches him off-guard. “I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab breakfast first, but—”

You shake your head, grabbing his wrist and pulling him towards the bedroom. “Sex first, food later.”

“Yes ma’am.” He uses his free hand to apply a quick smack to your ass, mesmerized at the way the supple flesh ripples underneath the flannel pants. Jesus, you’ve got him half-hard and you’re still in your pajamas. 

He sits on the side of the bed, and you climb to straddle him, your inner thighs nudging his outer. “Been thinking about you,” you say, tugging his earlobe between your teeth. 

Eddie pulls you even closer, one hand snaking up your shirt to cup your breast. He’s still cold from the rain and early morning frost, and his touch has your nipple pebbling. “What about me?” 

“Well,” you trill, starting to slowly grind against the tented fabric of his pants. He exhales, a shiver of anticipation coursing through his veins. “I believe I promised my rockstar a reward for his amazing gig.” Your thoughts flit back to the night of Will’s party, when you’d snuck backstage and gotten a glimpse of him, his body pulsating with nerves that had almost immediately quelled at your touch. Another sensation had swept over him then, but that was an entirely different type of flutter.

Eddie nudges his nose against yours, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Your rockstar?” He adores the phrasing. Yours. Belonging to you. And you belong to him; he won’t ever allow you to forget it. “What kind of reward did my favorite groupie have in mind?”

You slide off of him, giggling at the pout he gives you as your body loses contact with his. “Patience, Rockstar,” you warn him, though it’s difficult to contain yourself when you’re salivating just being eye-level with his erection. Your fingers dig into his waistband, and for the second time today, you’re glad for his choice of clothing. You don’t think you could handle buttons and zippers and belt buckles. Not today.

He hisses when your palm brushes along his hardened length, stiffening even while covered by his boxer briefs. A small wet patch marks his tip, leaking precum, and you press a chaste kiss to it. Almost instantly, you feel the tendrils of his thigh hair against your bare arms as his legs reflexively snap shut like a Venus flytrap catching its prey. 

“Too much?” you mumble against his happy trail. While you relish in the thought of overstimulating him, you want to keep him on edge as long as you can. 

Eddie shakes his head, curls scratching against his shoulders. “Jus’ wasn’t expecting it. ‘Cause you were using your hands, but then I felt your…never mind, I’m gonna shut up now.” He settles back into the mattress and eagerly awaits your next move.

You don’t make him wait long, lips drawn to his shaft with a magnetic force. You only stop to shimmy his underwear down his legs, tossing them to the corner of the room. His cock is flush against his tummy; you catch yourself staring at the dusting of wispy curls that trail from his upper groin down to his heavy sack. 

Your dominant hand wraps around the base while the other leans on his thigh for balance. You lean in and spit, letting your saliva dribble down his length before flattening your tongue to lick up the pearly bead forming at the tip. Eddie’s abdominal muscles contract and his fists clench, never taking his eyes off of the beautiful woman on her knees for him. 

He lets out a soft moan as you hollow out your cheeks to take more of him into your mouth. A string of syllables that barely resemble words escapes him. “Mmm, yes, oh, sh–fucking hell–thas’ it…” He twists the bedsheets between his fingers, inhaling sharply as your tongue glides up and down his cock. “S’pretty, fuck, gorgeous girl.” He watches intently, staving off blinks so he doesn’t miss a moment of him disappearing between your lips.

He’d once thought that he could never want more than sloppy post-gig hook-ups in dive bar bathrooms with girls whose names he’d never learned, though he wouldn’t have made an effort to remember them anyway. Girls who had only offered their mouths so they could lay claim to his body; the opportunity to brag that they’d blown Eddie Munson before he got famous.

That was before you, before you’d shown him the intoxicating mixture of longing and belonging, of lust and…

You continue drawing him closer and closer to his orgasm, nose grazing his thatch of pubic hair. His hips buck slightly, but your mouth is so full of him that it threatens to evoke your gag reflex. 

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” Eddie blurts out, unfurling a hand from the sheets to cup your cheek. He pulls out, allowing you to take a deep breath. 

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you tease with a wicked grin, wasting no time assuming your previous position. 

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie throws his head back. “You like gagging on my dick? Fucking hell, babe.”

“Mhm.” The gentle vibration has him twitching, and you know he can’t last much longer. You bring your attention to his tip, sucking and giving soft kitten licks while your hand takes care of the rest of his length. He’s so painfully hard that you wouldn’t be surprised if he stayed that way long after finishing. 

“Jus’…just like that. Oh, fuuuuuck,” he groans, silently calling upon every ounce of willpower in his body to keep his pelvis still so he doesn’t disturb the beautiful rhythm you’ve found. “Gonna cum…shit, baby, if you don’t want it in your mouth, you gotta stop now.”

But you do want it in your mouth, so you don’t stop, feeling warm ropes adorning your tongue just seconds later. He’s panting, chest heaving as though he was the one putting in the effort, but he still notices the way you swallow his thick load without missing a beat. 

“Did you just…oh, my God. You’re perfect.” He throws his hands up in mock defeat. “I can’t…nothing I do will ever compare to you, I swear.” He motions for you to lay down next to him, and immediately climbs on top of you, the sweat from his chest transferring to your shirt. “Off,” he mumbles, pulling it over your head before you get the chance to do it yourself.

His lips swoop down to your left breast, tongue flickering over the nipple, and his dominant hand travels into your panties and expertly finds your clit. You let out a tiny whimper, barely audible over Eddie’s own grunts, finding pleasure in making you feel good. 

“This body,” he mumbles, mouth still attached to your chest, “has me in a goddamn chokehold. It’s all I think about.” That isn’t quite true; he certainly spends plenty of time daydreaming of you, though it isn’t always in such compromising positions. Sometimes, you’re sleeping next to him in bed as he presses gentle kisses to the nape of your neck. Other times, he’ll be cooking dinner and picture you passing him the salt or handing him a serving spoon to dish out whatever noodle-based concoction he’s conjured up. Whatever he’s doing, he imagines you by his side. 

“Can you kiss me?” Your request is timid but dripping with need. 

Eddie nods, bringing himself to eye level with you and closing the gap between your faces. You taste of minty toothpaste and of him, and he curses himself for diving in headfirst without remembering to kiss you. “M sorry,” he apologizes for the second time that morning, and you forgive him with a soft bite to his lower lip. 

Your arms rest on his shoulders and your legs wrap around his calf muscles, desperate to remain as close as possible at all times. No, you can’t stay like this forever, so you’ve got to make it count. “Need you inside me, Eddie.” Your voice nearly cracks, tears pricking at your lash line as the craving for him grows stronger. “Please.”

Eddie musters up a terse laugh. “Sweetheart, I just came, like, five minutes ago. You gotta give me a second to bounce back.” He lowers himself so he can whisper in your ear, “let me take care of you while we wait, hm?”

As soon as you nod, he’s yanking down your pajama pants and panties in one fluid motion. You can’t miss the way his eyes light up once you’re fully on display for him, taking in every centimeter of your body like his existence depends upon it. He starts to shimmy his way down, but your murmured “mm-mm” captures his attention.

“Still want you kissing me,” you say, gazing adoringly into his deep brown eyes. “Maybe you could just use your fingers?” 

His instinct is to protest; he’s been desperate to taste you again ever since his tongue last touched the most intimate part of you, but he can’t deny you what you want. He’ll do just about anything to keep a smile on your face.

Without further hesitation, Eddie’s lips are on yours. He braces himself on his elbows as his hands cradle your cheeks. You can feel the heat of his cock, still spent and flaccid, against the top of your thigh. He shifts slightly so he can press one thick finger into your pussy, dragging in and out so deliciously that you barely notice his tongue slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss as you moan.

“Y’like that?” It’s a gratuitous question; he can feel how much you like it in the way you’re clenching around him. “Gonna make my girl feel s’good.”

“Call me your girl again,” you whine, punctuating the plea with a gentle buck of your hips. 

Eddie grins, ducking his head where your neck meets your collarbone and sucking lightly. It takes every ounce of strength he possesses not to mark you. He studies the moisture left behind by his lips and wishes it was the exquisite shades of blue and indigo that form when someone’s been claimed. 

He slides a second finger inside you. “My sweet girl,” he coos, just a hint of patronization laced within his deep voice, “you like being mine? Belonging to me?”

Your stomach flips at his words; a gnawing hunger for Eddie Munson. “Love it. I…I love being your girl.” You allow your mind to clear, absorbing his gaze, his touch, his skin. The graceful arch of your back beckons him to move faster, tongue peeking from between his plush lips as he concentrates on your orgasm.

Each stroke within you inches you closer to euphoria. Eddie’s thumb is pressed to your clit, cementing his determination to tip you over the edge. He hits all the right spots, committing them to memory; his own personal pathway to the heavens. 

It’s your turn to grab onto the bed sheets like a lifeline as pleasure surges through you. Your lips coat his in a warm layer of “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” the praise a victory chant to him. He waits until your eyelids flutter back open and your breathing steadies before taking his fingers from your center and into his mouth, licking your release off of his skin like a delicacy.

Your body may be splayed out on the bed, but your mind is adrift; its only focus is the float down from the high Eddie’s brought you to. If it weren’t for the throbbing reminder pressed to your leg, you might float right into the atmosphere.

You summon the willpower to prop yourself up on your elbows, watching intently as he fists himself to temporarily ease the ache.

“Why’re you doing that when ‘m right here?” you mumble, wetting your lower lip with a swipe of your tongue. You can only hope that there’s some semblance of a smile in your intoxicated expression. “Unless you…prefer your hand?”

“Fuck, no,” he grumbles, curls dancing along his shoulder blades as he loosens his grasp to dig through your top drawer. He shoves aside stray prescription bottles and various knickknacks that you’ve been meaning to go through until he finds what he’s been looking for.

He snatches up the teal box and practically tears the cardboard in half trying to open it. The snake of foil packets tumbles out and he scrambles for them, but you’re faster.

Wordlessly, you rip off one packet and carefully tear off the top. Eddie hisses as you roll the condom down his hardened length, more than ready to be inside you. 

“Wanna ride you,” you tell him, pressing your palms to his soft pecs. “‘S that okay?” 

“Is that—baby, if I ever say no to that offer, there’s something seriously wrong with me,” he laughs, already laying back on the bed. His hair splays across the pillow, brown curls swirling atop the cotton pillowcase like Van Gogh’s Starry Night. 

Eddie inhales sharply as you sit above him, sheathed cock pressed to your heat in anticipation. He reaches out and grabs your breasts, one in each hand, kneading them in his palms. His thumbs brush over your nipples, gauging your reaction before giving them a small pinch. 

Your moan, coupled with the way you grind against him, confirms your satisfaction, but he still asks, “Y’like when I do that?”

You offer him a little smirk, cocking your brow as you cheekily reply, “You tell me.” 

He doesn’t have time to respond before you lift yourself and gradually sink down onto him, soaking in every moment of the delectable stretch. Bracing yourself on his chest, you feel him bottom out so he’s filling you entirely. 

“Fuck, Sweetheart.” His hands move from your chest to your hips as he helps you adjust to the newfound fullness. “So tight. Feels‘mazing.”

“Just wanna take care of you, Eds. You’re so good to me; I wanna be good to you.” You bounce up and down, moving your hips so no part of your walls remains untouched by him. 

He’s mesmerized at the jiggle of your flesh as it connects with his, momentarily rendering him speechless before he regains some composure. “You are. You’re so, so good for me. Can never get enough of my girl.”

You clench around him at the title ‘my girl’, earning you a smack to your ass. The sting makes you whimper, and he swiftly delivers another. 

“You’re gonna make me cum too soon,” he huffs, blown-out pupils drifting from your eyes to where your bodies are joined. 

You pause your movements to lean down, allowing him impossibly deep within you. “If it’s too much,” you murmur into his ear, hoping your edge-teetering tremble is hidden enough to effectively tease him, “maybe I should just…stop.” You slide your hips forward until only his tip breaches your hole. 

Eddie’s jaw drops in complete disbelief. “You…you can’t fuckin’ do that to me.” You expect him to push the rest of his cock inside you and thrust until he’s completely spent, so you’re caught off-guard when he pulls out entirely. “All fours. Now.” He emphasizes his request with another spank, this one harder than the rest. 

You oblige, palms pressed into the mattress and toes curled as you await him. He taps his shaft against your bottom once, twice, three times, and then plunges into your warmth. 

“Ah—fuck—Eddie!” you cry, feeling the telltale twitch that informs you he’s close. Really fucking close. And then another sensation—a soft pop. 

He realizes what it is before you do. “Fuckin’ condom broke!” he grumbles, pulling out again—even more begrudgingly than before—and tossing the split rubber to the floor. He opens a new one and rolls it on with lightning speed, eager to be enveloped in you once again. 

“Wish we didn’t have to use those,” you mumble, willing yourself to stay steady despite the push from his pistoning hips. “Be so much easier without them.”

Picturing you taking him raw—you wanting to take him raw—is the last straw. “Yeah? You wanna feel all of me, baby?” he growls, nearly inaudible over the sound of his pelvis colliding with your ass. “Want me blowing my load so fuckin’ deep inside you?”

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, feeling that delicate wave approaching the shoreline, desperate to crest. “That’s exactly what I want, Eddie.”

“Keep saying my name,” he orders, wrapping one arm around you so his middle finger lays on your clit. Every part he touches makes you weaker for him, scavenging for the relief of release.

“Eddie, feels s’good,” you moan, legs threatening to crumple beneath you. “No one makes me feel like this ‘cept you, fuck, Eddie!”

You finish around him, squeezing him until he’s spilling into the condom with a primal groan of your name. He stays draped over you for a beat before flopping back onto the bed. 

“You are…” he turns to you and grins as he searches for the right word, “spectacular.” He gingerly removes the barrier from his dick, tying it in a knot and tossing it into the trash can next to your nightstand. “C’mere.” 

You lay on his chest, the sweat cooling as it hits your cheek. “Did you work up an appetite?” you tease, kissing just below his tattoo of a demonic head, “I can grab us some cereal, or we might have some frozen Eggos I could throw in the toaster.”

Eddie smiles so wide it threatens to escape the confines of his cheeks. “Sex and breakfast? You spoil me, Sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well; we need energy to power us through round two.” You scoot upwards to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, the salt of his perspiration tangy on your lips. “Give me a few minutes, okay? Do you like syrup on your waffles?”

“And butter?” he asks with a hopeful smile, peering at you through long eyelashes that would have had you darting to Bradley’s Big Buy if you didn’t already have a stick of Land O’ Lakes in the fridge.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yes, Your Majesty,” you say, giving his bare thigh a small tap. “Would you also care for some freshly-squeezed orange juice? I can have the chef whip some up right away.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, slowly pushing himself up so he can help you in the kitchen. It dawns on him that he hasn’t felt this kind of peace after sex before; his mind has always been clouded with fears of getting too attached, of saying the wrong thing, of deluding someone into thinking he’s enough. 

“God, I love you.” The words tumble out before he can stop them, and he freezes in place, one leg through his underwear. “Fuck, I mean–”

“It’s okay,” you rush to reassure him, noting the red tinge forming on the tips of his ears. “I’d say that to anyone who offered me breakfast foods, too.” You give him room to accept the out, to brush off his confession as a slip of the tongue. There’s no use in awarding merit to an accidental comment, regardless of what your skipped heartbeat tells you.

He considers it, every synapse and neuron firing at warpspeed. Maybe he could convince himself that it was an accident if it was the first time he’d felt this, the way your sunshine radiates through him and warms him from within. But that was far from the truth. 

“No,” he finds himself saying, grasping onto every morsel of confidence he can find, “it’s not because of the food. I love you.” 

Your voice catches in your throat. You want to believe that he’s reciprocating your feelings, but something nags at you. “Are you sure it’s not because we just had sex? Because sometimes that—”

“No,” Eddie repeats himself, unfolding the waistband of his boxer briefs and walking to you. “Because it wasn’t about sex when you calmed me down after the parent-teacher conference. It wasn’t about sex when you taught Harris how to read and bowl and be a better person than I’ll ever be. It wasn’t about sex when you cheered me on during our last gig, and it wasn’t about sex when I saw you holding Ettie.” He takes a deep breath and holds your hands as he gazes into your eyes. “And even after having sex, it isn’t about sex. It’s about you being the one for me. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, and finally your lips. 

“I love you, too, Eddie.” 

Just five words, six syllables, and he’s a goner. Seriousness melts into a sappy smile as he cradles your cheeks and presses the tip of his nose to yours. “Holy shit, we’re in love.”

You kiss him, tongue nudging his as your torsos meld together. If your stomach wasn’t gnawing for something to eat, you’d start round two right then and there. 

Throwing on just a shirt and panties, you lead him into the kitchen before either of you can crawl back into bed. His hands never leave your body, snaking around your waist as you rifle through the freezer for the familiar yellow box. His head rests on your shoulder as you drop the waffles into the toaster and press the lever down.

“Eds?”

“Yes, my love?” he murmurs, pecking a soft kiss behind your ear. You both could have sworn that there was nothing better than him calling you ‘my girl,’ but you’re unashamed to stand corrected.

“Could you make yourself useful and grab some plates? Maybe get the syrup or butter?” you tease, noting the dramatic pout developing on his face. “What?”

“I’m keepin’ you warm,” he protests, sliding his hands over the cotton fabric of your faded t-shirt and grabbing your breasts. “And you’re not wearing a bra, so I gotta hold ‘em for you.”

He eventually obliges, setting two Chinette plates on the countertop and padding over to the refrigerator. He plucks the condiments from the side door and places them in the center of the table. 

“Cups, too,” you remind him with a cheeky grin, pointing to a cabinet to your right. “No drinking out of the carton in my house.”

“Bossy this morning, aren’t we?”

The toaster chimes a charismatic ding! as the waffles jump out of their slots, and you carefully drop both onto one plate. “Here ya go,” you chirp, extending your arm so he can take his breakfast. 

“Where’s yours?” His brows pinch together in confusion, a sly smile stretching his lips. “Don’t tell me I didn’t make you work up more of an appetite back there. Shit, shoulda had you ride me longer–”

Your hip collides with his in a purposeful shove. “I’m getting mine ready now. Go sit and eat, you horndog.” 

Eddie drops the plate on the counter so quickly that the Eggos nearly fly off, pulling you from behind for a hug that squeezes all the air from your lungs. You squeal as he bites your neck and barks into it, solidifying that he has indeed earned the new nickname you’ve bestowed upon him.

He takes one of his waffles and places it on your empty plate. “We can eat together.”

You grab the orange juice from the fridge, giving the carton a shake before pouring the contents between the two glasses. It’s not until you sit down that you remember: “Oh, shit—utensils.” You start to get back up, but Eddie puts a hand out in a silent bid for you to stay seated, shuffling back to the kitchen. The drawer rattles as he pulls with just a bit too much strength, and he comes back with two knives and a single fork. 

“You only got one—” you start, but he shakes his head. 

“Don’t need it.” With that, he cuts off a hunk of butter and slathers it on top of his waffle, knife scraping against the little squares. He slathers every square inch in syrup, folds the waffle in half, and takes an exaggeratedly large bite. 

“Eddie Munson!” you lightly chastise, still in shock at what you’ve witnessed. “Did you just eat that like a taco?”

“Sí, señorita.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “Oh, my God, I’m in love with a barbarian.” You reach for the bottle of Aunt Jemima and drizzle the sticky-sweetness onto your waffle. “What else is going on with you?” you ask, cutting the food into strips and spearing it with your fork. “Work’s good?”

“Work’s great, actually.” He starts to bring the waffle to his mouth but pauses just before taking a bite. Syrup drops onto the plate with a plop. “I almost forgot to tell you! The regional manager asked me to go to this thrift market in Indianapolis in a few weeks—all on the company’s dime—and try to snag some vintage records.”

“Eds, that’s amazing!” You leap up from your chair and lean in to kiss his syrupy lips. 

He licks a smudge of butter from the side of his thumb. “Oh, but that’s not even the best part,” Eddie grins triumphantly. “The market just so happens to fall during spring break, and I was hoping you could join us?” His bare foot nudges yours under the table. “That is, if you think you can survive an entire weekend running after Harris?”

Your jaw drops in mock-offense. “One of us chases after children–plural–every day. Besides,” you add, taking a swig of juice, “Harris isn’t the one I’m worried about.” You gesture at his partially-demolished breakfast. “At least when he eats like this, he has the excuse of being a child.”

His reply is a flick of his left middle finger, his right hand busy jamming the remaining waffle-taco into his mouth. “And yet,” he retorts with his mouth full, “you can’t seem to get enough.”

He’s got you there: all you’ve ever wanted is sitting in front of you now, the corners of his chocolate-brown eyes crinkling as he stands. You allow your eyes to roam his body; not with lust, but adoration. Love.

Your cheek yearns to be pressed to his chest, your hand resting where the soft pudge of his tummy barely rolls over the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs. Your legs crave the connection of intertwining with his. You need his arms, biceps strong from lugging around music equipment and holding his son, wrapped around your torso and keeping you impossibly close. Keeping you safe.

You want to spend hours asking about the stories behind the tattoos that adorn his chest, whether meaningful or the result of sheer boredom. You want to curl up on the sofa and put on a movie, absorbing none of it as you spend the entire duration lost in his lips. 

The brush of his thumb against your knuckles stirs you from your roaming thoughts. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Eddie sits up a bit straighter, hand never leaving yours. “Shoot.”

“Is it…” you fumble for the right words, “why are you like this now?”

“I’m sorry?” His brows knit together in obvious confusion. “Why am I like…what?”

“This,” you repeat, gesticulating at the man before you, warm and tender and completely unlike the stranger you’d hooked up with nearly eight months ago. “Why is the guy who once kicked me out of his apartment currently having breakfast with me half-naked and inviting me on a trip with his son?” Your tone is inquisitive, curious, and Eddie heaves a silent sigh of relief when he doesn’t detect a hint of judgment. 

He doesn’t answer your question outright; instead, he poses his own: “Do you not believe that I love you?” He bites his lower lip, mind churning with the early memories you’d made together, the ones he wishes he could lock away and never remember. 

Your heart lurches at your accidental implication. “I do! Shit, Eddie, I know you love me. And I love you, too.” You pause to lift his hand to your mouth, leaving the gentlest of kisses along his fuzzy knuckles. “I guess I just wanna know why you even let yourself love me. Why you didn’t stick to the Cat-and-Mouse. Why…why you chose me.” 

He exhales, an incredulous huff of laughter passing through his lips. “You wanna know why I started only having one-night stands? Or why I stopped?”

“Both?” you try.

“So, um,” his eyes look everywhere but at you, “I never really got attention until I moved to Chicago and started playing with that band. All of a sudden, women wanna sleep with me, and I don’t have to, like, beg them.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “But they didn’t really want to fuck Eddie Munson; they just wanted to fuck the lead singer and guitarist of Hard Knox. Didn’t matter if it was me or some other random guy.

“One night, I’m…y’know…with this one girl, and I asked her to say my name.” His cheeks tinge red and he swallows hard. “And she looks at me with these wide eyes, and I realized she didn’t even fucking know it.”

“Did you know hers?” The question comes out before you can stop it, but you already know the answer.

He rubs his eyes with his whole palm. “After that, I realized that the only difference between the Eddie who got laid and the Eddie who didn’t was that no one I slept with really knew me. And if they ever figured out that I’m just this big ol’ nerd who spent high school playing Dungeons & Dragons, they’d…” He flexes his hands to make a poof! motion. “So I decided not to let them get to know me.”

“But then…”

“But then,” he acquiesces, “you show up at the bar, looking like a goddamn dream, and I put up that cocky lead singer persona on instinct. Because that’s the only version of me that women ever wanted to be with.” He sighs. “And then I let my guard down, ask you to spend the night, and I’m thinking, ‘I gotta get her outta here before she sees who I really am. Before she sees that I’m not a rockstar; I’m just a mediocre dad who sells weed to scrape by.’”

You move so quickly that you practically knock over your chair, standing behind him and wrapping your arms around the top of his chest. Your chin rests on his scalp, and he can feel the vibration in your throat as you murmur, “nothing about you is mediocre, Eddie Munson.”

 He lays his head on your forearm, kissing it softly before lacing his fingers with yours. “Sometimes, I think I’m just buying time until you get sick of me.”

You shift your position so your lips can brush the side of his neck. “I didn’t fall for the guy on stage that night. I mean, yeah, you looked incredibly hot,” you tease and nip at his collarbone, “but I’m in love with Eddie Munson: the man who gets excited when his son reads a new word, who teases me for liking olives on my pizza, who knows the lyrics to every song ever made–including the ones he claims to hate.”

“Well, Eddie Munson–the real Eddie Munson–is so goddamn lucky to be loved by you.” He turns so he’s facing you, strong hands on your hips as he gazes up with starry eyes. 

You cradle his cheeks, stooping down so your noses touch. “You deserve to be loved.”

“Yeah.” The word is more breath than sound. “Yeah, I think I’m finally starting to believe that.” 

The remainder of your day is spent having copious amounts of sex; Eddie had insisted on ‘making up for lost time,’ taking breaks only for a quick lunch and a shower. 

“Come with me to pick up Harris,” Eddie says as he wraps the bath towel around his waist. Water drips from the ends of his curls down to the dimples on his lower back. “We’re going to Jeff and Viv’s after so he can meet Baby Ettie.”

You raise your eyebrows in amusement, bending over to dry your legs. “I took a sick day today,” you remind him. “I can’t just show up there in your car, like, ‘nothing to see here!’”

“I’ll park far away,” he says with a shrug. “No biggie.” There’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “I mean, I could tell Harris that Ms. Sweetheart was supposed to be with us, but she said no—”

You swat at his chest and he pulls back, feigning pain. “You wouldn’t!”

“Try me.”

That’s how you ended up hunched over in the passenger seat of Eddie’s sedan, hiding from any passersby who could potentially recognize you. It only takes a few minutes before you hear the sound of Harris’s little voice, chewing his dad’s ear off about his day at school.

“...and then me an’ Charlie traded me snacks, an’ no one even sawed us!” He’s cackling like it’s the funniest joke. “He had my pretzels and I had his gummies, and it was so silly!”  

“Gummies, huh?” Eddie clicks his tongue, “well, that explains the sugar rush.” Their voices get louder as they approach the car. “By the way, Har Bear, I have a surprise for you.”

As he says it, Harris opens the back door and hops into the car, eyes widening when he sees you sitting up front. “Ms. Sweetheart!” he exclaims, bouncing into his booster seat with pure exhilaration. “What are you doing in Daddy’s car?”

“I figured I could see Baby Ettie with you guys,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, a stark contrast to the little boy practically vibrating from excitement, “if that’s okay with you.”

“Yes, yes, YES!” Harris shouts, his words aimed directly in Eddie’s ear as he tries buckling his son’s seatbelt.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he mutters, wincing as he massages the opening of his ear canal with his forefinger. “Take it down a notch, little man.” He fumbles with the belt until he hears the familiar click. He dons a deep voice to announce, “Keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times,” and Harris draws his limbs inwards with a giggle while Eddie closes his door. 

“Daddy? Can we listen to music?”

“Mhm.” Eddie reaches for the radio dial, then stops. “Should we let Ms. Sweetheart choose the tape? Since she’s our special guest?” He shoots you a grin that sends a flip-flopping sensation behind your ribs. 

Harris taps his finger to his chin in contemplation. “Hmm…okay! Can she pick Metallica?”

“Not quite sure that’s how it works…” Eddie scrunches up his face and scratches at his jawline. 

You turn around to face the boy, whose curly hair is now identically frizzy to his father’s. “Actually, Metallica sounds great to me,” you say, adding a thumbs-up for good measure. 

“Metallica it is!” Eddie pops in the cassette, the mechanical wheels whirring for a moment before Fight Fire with Fire blares through the speakers. He rests his palm on the back of your seat as he backs out of the spot, tongue poking from his lips in concentration. 

Harris alternates between headbanging to the music and babbling about school throughout the drive to Jeff and Viv’s. His energy seems endless as he hops out of the car and races to their front door. 

“Har, remember,” Eddie calls out, “we have to be calm and gentle around the baby. Don’t wanna scare her.”

Harris nods as Jeff opens the door. “Mini Munson!” He gives a tired smile, stifling a yawn. “Ready to meet your new cousin?” He chuckles when Harris jumps up and down and squeals. “I’ll take that as a yes. Go ‘head and sit on the couch, kiddo.”

Harris follows Jeff’s instructions, and you and Eddie trail close behind him. Jess and Robin are also there; the latter woman is currently holding Ettie, lightly rocking the newborn in her arms. 

“Do you wanna hold her?” she asks Harris, who looks to you and his dad in a silent plea for permission. 

“Up to you, Har,” Eddie says with an encouraging smile. “We’ll help you, if you want.”

Harris nods, shuffling so his back is pressed up against the sofa. He squirms anxiously, kicking his feet as he waits for you and his dad to join him. 

Eddie sits on his right side, and you take the empty space to his left. “I’ll help you hold her head,” you promise him. “You can hold your arms out like this,” you demonstrate, resting your forearms on your lap with your palms facing the ceiling, and Harris mimics your actions. “There ya go.”

Robin carefully walks over and places Ettie in Harris’s outstretched arms, ensuring that you’re supporting the baby’s head before she fully lets go. For a few moments, Harris just stares at the little girl, seemingly unsure how to react. Finally, he softly murmurs, “she’s so little!”

“Sure is,” Eddie laughs, poking at one of her tiny toes in amazement. “Would you believe that you were even more little when you were a baby?” His grin deepens when Harris’s jaw drops in disbelief. “It’s true! You were the tiniest little thing I’ve ever seen.” As he says it, a lump forms in his throat, and he swallows it before anyone notices the catch in his voice. You don’t need to hear it, though, and you use your free hand to discreetly rub his back in silent reassurance.

Harris purses his lips as he stares at his new cousin, clearly unaffected by the anecdote. “Does she do any tricks?” 

His question has the entire group stifling laughter, and Eddie turns pink with embarrassment as he quickly explains, “she’s not a dog, buddy. And she was only born a few weeks ago, so she pretty much just eats, sleeps, and poops.”

“Ew,” Harris’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the last activity, though you’re willing to bet a large sum of money that he’s made at least one poop-related joke today. “So when can I teach her how to play Legos?”

“Not for a while,” Viv admits with a kind chuckle, “but when she’s ready, I promise that we’ll let her big cousin Harris show her how it’s done.”

Her answer placates him, at least temporarily, and he cautiously brushes his forefinger against Ettie’s scalp, smoothing down her wisps of hair. You take the moment to glance over at Eddie, only to find him looking right at you.

Hi, he mouths, though there’s so much more he wishes to say. When Harris was Ettie’s age, Eddie was exhausted, overwhelmed, constantly on the brink of breaking down. He’d sworn to himself and anyone else who would listen that he’d never go through the newborn stage again, but he’s mesmerized by the sight of you and Harris cuddling a baby. He wants this, he wants this with you, sleepless nights and spit-up stained clothes no longer strong enough deterrents.

Hi, you mouth back, suppressing words that ache to spill from your lips. Your pulse quickens at the way Eddie watches his son, not with scrutiny, but with admiration and awe, as though he can’t believe he’d created such a wonderful little human. Teaching children never translated over to a desire for motherhood, but you can suddenly picture yourself helping Harris hold your baby, a baby that symbolizes the love between you and Eddie.

“They look like a little family.” Robin’s attempted whisper grabs your attention; a brief scan of the room shows that everyone else is looking at her, too. Her cheeks flush a deep red and she mutters, “sorry,” swooping in to scoop Ettie into her arms. 

An awkward silence hangs in the air until Jess clears her throat. “How was work today?” she asks you, and though you don’t have an actual answer to the question, you’re grateful for the subject change.

“I took the day off,” you reply nonchalantly. “Wanted to catch up on rest, y’know…” You trail off, hoping your non-answer suffices.

“What about you, Ed?” Jeff tries.

“Oh, uh,” Eddie stammers, nervously running a hand through his hair, “I also took the day off.”

Jeff’s gaze flits between the two of you until he finally manages an elongated, “…cool.” 

Luckily, Harris is oblivious to the adults’ conversation. “Uncle Jeff, are you coming to my talent show next week?”

“Talent show?” Jeff glances at Eddie with an amused smirk. 

“Uh, yeah, ‘s this parent-kid thing at his school,” Eddie hurriedly explains, trying not to trip over his words. He’s still stuck on what he’s implied by admitting that he’d also called out of work. “I didn’t know how busy you’d be with Ettie—”

Viv smiles. “I think he can sneak out for an hour to see his favorite nephew.”

“Robs and I can help out here if you need,” Jess offers to her sister, “as long as Jeff brings the camcorder so we have video evidence of this performance.”

“Absolutely not.” Eddie shuts the idea down immediately, but his protest is drowned out by the sound of Harris cheering. 

“Daddy and I are gonna—”

Eddie claps a ringed hand over his son’s mouth. “It’s a surprise.” He looks at you for a moment, bashfulness infiltrating his expression with a timid smile and downcast eyes, and you realize that the surprise is for you. 

Harris wriggles out of Eddie’s grasp with a discontented sigh, sliding off the couch and onto thr floor. “I didn’t tell Ms. Sweetheart,” he protests, and Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose as he gathers any remaining patience. 

Ettie puckers up her face and lets out a wail that seems far too big for her teeny body, but it serves as the perfect reason to leave. You hug everyone goodbye and give the cranky baby’s feet a gentle tickle before you head out the door. Harris gallops ahead, giving Eddie the opportunity to guide you with a soft press of his hand to the small of your back. Before he's fully outside, he leans in to Jeff, whispering “I told her,” ending the statement with a grin. 

“My man!” Jeff grabs Eddie’s shoulder and gives it a small shake. “Let me know when to buy my tux for the wedding.”

“Jesus, you sound like Harris.”

Spending time at Hawkins Preschool outside of contracted work hours would normally be a scenario straight out of a nightmare. This afternoon; however, you’re here to see the most adorable little boy and his handsome dad perform some sort of mystery talent, which makes it all worthwhile.

The cafeteria has been transformed into an auditorium of sorts, with neat lines of metal folding chairs replacing the long tables that typically fill the space. An area at the front of the room has been sectioned off for the performances, and the entire place is abuzz with excitement about the adorableness that is about to ensue.

You spot Jeff and Wayne sitting in the third row from the back and you give them a little wave, bounding over to take the empty seat to Jeff’s left. The smile on your lips quickly transforms into a frown when you see him shake his head, placing his palm on the chair.

“I’m under strict orders to make sure you sit in the front row,” he says with a knowing smirk. He shoos you away, and you begrudgingly turn from their familiar faces, but not before catching a twinkle in Wayne’s eyes. 

Soon after you find a seat close to the makeshift stage, Principal Sinclair steps up to the microphone. 

“Welcome, friends and family, to our annual talent show fundraiser!” There’s a polite smattering of applause before she speaks again. “Our students—and their parents—have quite a show for you all. First up is Miss Abigail Carver and her mom, Chrissy, who will be performing a cheer routine!”

You clap as Abby and Chrissy step out, green and yellow pom-poms in hand. Your student recognizes you immediately, running over to give you a quick hug that elicits a resounding aww from the audience members.  She rushes back to her spot as she and her mother cheer on the Hawkins Tigers in unison. 

Next is another student of yours, Joshua Harrington. His dad hoists a Fisher Price basketball hoop and places it on the ground so the two of them can show off their “slam dunks.”

After a few more students from other classes, it’s finally the moment you’ve been waiting for. 

“Please welcome Harris Munson and his dad, Eddie, who will be singing a song!”

No sooner do you call out, “Yay, Harris!” do you hear it:

“Freak.”

It’s low enough that no one else catches it; you probably wouldn’t have, either, if the culprit wasn’t sitting directly behind you. You turn around to see Jason Carver, camcorder by his side, poorly stifling a snicker. 

Your hands clench, balled into fists, so tight that you feel your fingernails digging into your palms. It’s too tempting to smash his camera—no, smash his stupid face—but you inhale and then exhale for three seconds apiece. Today is about Harris and Eddie, and no overgrown bully is going to ruin that. 

Still, you have to bite back a smile at the thought of Jason sporting a black eye, courtesy of the Freak’s girlfriend herself. 

When Harris and Eddie take to the performance space, your anger evaporates and your heart becomes heavy with emotion. Harris is front and center, body slightly turned as he watches his dad get settled on a wooden stool and gives his acoustic guitar a tune. The boy dons a black suit that’s a size too big for him, his hands barely peeking out of the sleeves. He’s got on a tie that has to have been borrowed from an adult; you can’t imagine Eddie or Wayne wearing one, so maybe Jeff loaned it. The best part is the fedora that rests atop his messy mop of curls. 

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart!” he says with a grin so wide it likely hurts his cheeks, letting out a shriek of delight when you wave. “This song is for you!”

Eddie murmurs a soft, “two, three, four,” and strums a melody that immediately has your eyes welling with tears. 

“You make me feel so young,” Harris croons, mouth right up to the mic, “you make me feel so spring has sprung!”

To anyone else, it seems like a silly play on the fact that he is, in fact, young. You know it’s so much more. 

“And every time I see you grin, I’m such a happy individual!” 

He’s singing Frank Sinatra. He’s dressed as Frank Sinatra. And you know it had to be Eddie’s idea, considering Harris’s musical repertoire teeters between Raffi and Metallica. 

He skips a few verses, and when he does, Eddie locks eyes with you and offers a tiny close-mouthed smile. 

“And even when I’m old and gray I’m gonna feel the way I do today ‘Cause you make me feel so young!”

You choke down the sob that threatens to escape as they circle back to the chorus. The memory of Grandma’s final Thanksgiving, consisting of singing along to Fly Me to the Moon and sharing store-brand Oreos, soars around your mind. The way she had so easily slipped back into her old self, if only for a moment. The way Eddie had held you and kissed your scalp, protecting you from a force no one could see but everyone could feel. 

“You make me feel so young You make me feel so young Ooh, you make me feel so young!”

The song ends and you leap to your feet, cheering just as loudly as you did the other night at the Hideout for Corroded Coffin. You swipe at a stray tear and force yourself to look at your boyfriend, so effortlessly beautiful in a black t-shirt and jeans. 

Thank you, you mouth. 

I love you, comes his silent reply. 

You gaze into each other’s eyes for another beat before you feel a thud against your legs. Harris stands right before you, ignoring the way all of the other kids proceeded out the door after their performances.

“Are those happy tears?” he asks, brows furrowing in concern as he notices your stained cheeks. When you nod, still too overcome with emotion to speak aloud, his face splits into a grin. “Good.” His arms wrap around your waist in a hug that nearly has you toppling over, and you rest your hand on his upper back to steady yourself.

“Easy, Har Bear,” Eddie’s voice is strong but tender, and your entire body relaxes in his presence. You want to pull him in by his belt loops and kiss him, running your fingers through his curls until you’re both smiling too hard to continue. If only you weren’t at your place of work, if only all eyes weren’t on you, if only–

“Looks like the Freak’s got a crush.”

A smattering of the audience members laugh at this, no one more so than the instigator himself. You whirl around reflexively, eyes narrowing at the smug blonde man behind you. Eddie takes a small step forward, quietly telling Harris to go back with his friends as he zeroes in on his longtime nemesis.

He’s going to hit him, you realize, noting the subtle clench of his jaw and twitch of his flexing bicep. I have to stop him before he does something he regrets.

Eddie’s hand shoots out, grabbing Jason’s collar and pulling him in with a jolt. There’s a soft gasp from the crowd followed by silence as everyone waits for Eddie’s next move. You can hear the scraping of metal chairs on the ground as Wayne and Jeff scramble to mitigate the situation before it can escalate further.

To your surprise–and relief–Eddie doesn’t throw any punches; instead, he grits his teeth and hisses, low enough so only you and Jason can hear:

“Don’t ever talk about her again.”

He lets go with a small shove, and Jason stumbles back just as Principal Sinclair arrives to break it up. While time came to a screeching halt, the whole interaction spanned fewer than ten seconds. 

Wayne and Jeff reach him first, guiding him out of the cafeteria. The older man keeps his eyes on his nephew, but Jeff shoots Jason a steely glare, insinuating that Jason had better heed Eddie’s warning if he wants to live to see his daughter go to kindergarten. You follow behind and attempt to keep your composure.

“I’m so sorry,” Eddie breathes as soon as the four of you are alone. “I shouldn’t have…I just fuckin’ hate that guy.” His eyes dance with anxiety, not sure whether to look at you, his friend, his uncle, or the ground.

You take his hands in yours, imploring him to focus on you as you reach up to brush his curls off of his face. “It’s okay–”

Eddie shakes his head. “I ruined everything. This was supposed to be about Harris, and about making you happy…” He takes a step back, rubbing his eyes with a low, exasperated, “fuck!”

“Baby–”

“I’m gonna get Harris,” Eddie starts to walk away, speaking to himself as though you hadn’t said a word, but he stops in his tracks when Wayne puts his hand on his shoulder.

“Listen to your girl,” he says simply, motioning for Jeff to come fetch Harris with him.

Eddie doesn’t dare protest, trudging back to face you. He’d fucked up royally, and he knew it. What was he thinking, putting his hands on Jason Carver in the middle of a goddamn preschool talent show?

“Eddie,” you take his hand in yours and give it a squeeze, “it’s okay. I’m not mad; I just wish he didn’t get under your skin like that.” You rub your thumb along his forefinger. “He’s not worth it, I promise.”

“I just…” Eddie mumbles, thoughts too scrambled to find the words he needs. He heaves a long sigh. “I shouldn’t have done it here.”

You can’t really argue with that; out of all of the places Eddie could fight Jason, your job wasn’t your favorite option. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You press onto your toes to whisper in his ear. “I almost did the same thing earlier today.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you confirm, nudging the toe of your shoe against his scuffed sneaker. “And I have a feeling most people in this town would agree with me.” The notion makes Eddie smile, and you continue. “Let me take you and Ol’ Brown Eyes out for ice cream to celebrate your amazing performance. Please?” You throw a puppy-dog look his way, though he needs little convincing.

Still, a nagging thought tugs at him that he has to resolve before can allow himself to relax. “There might be people there. People we know.” People like Jason Carver and Carol Perkins, he silently adds. “It’s okay if you don’t want to…we can just grab a half-gallon from Bradley’s and bring it home.”

You shake your head, effectively turning down his offer. “I’m taking my boyfriend and his adorable son to Scoops Ahoy, and the three of us are gonna split a fudge sundae,” you say matter-of-factly. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Are you sure you’re okay with people knowing about us? Being branded ‘The Freak’s Girlfriend’? Hearing people gossip about whatever the Hawkins rumor mill has churned out?

The sensation of your lips on his tempers the overworked gear shifts in his brain. When you pull back, you’re smiling at him. 

“Positive.”

--

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[notebooks-and-laptops]

Okay, so I really struggled to word this one, and please do elabtorate in the tags, but I'm really interested in people's approach to this. To give examples of each option:

you just play the game and the character exists as they do on screen

you develop a backstory, for example what the Trevelyan family is like, how many siblings the inquisitor has, a parent dying when they were young, but none of it changes what happens on screen much beyond guiding your decisions in game

You develop whole stories based around your pcs, with extra scenes to flesh out the game, and detailed backstories - but none of this ever contradicts whats happening on screen it just adds to it (very similar to 2, but slightly different)

You might have a few bits which contradict in game lore but its mostly the same and very little has to be changed e.g. my Cousland knew Anora when they were young kids

As mentioned above, this is like having a posssed Hawke or a tranquil inquisitor - it majorly changes bits of the story that you have to rework with your pc but for the most part the story stays the same

this is for the girlies who completely change things e.g. my Hawke saved both Bethany and Carver, was possessed by a spirit of anger, resurrected their mother, saved Orsino and married Aveline.

[yeyinde]

WICKER PYRE | Dragon!Price x Reader

All things considered, you should have expected it. You know better than to make deals with dragons.

WARNINGS: 18+ | light smut—no descriptions of anatomy used for the reader; possessive undertones; dragon trickery; blink and you'll miss it Celtic Dragon mythology and folklore WORD COUNT: 1,5K NOTES: They tempted me with hellfire and pretty imagery, so. Here we are.

It smells of biochar, pyrolysis. The incendiary heat sparks to life around you; a thick, impenetrable wall of stifling warmth, and you blink through the haze, the heat mirage, that swims in front of your eyes, trying to clear the clouds from your vision. 

It's hot. 

Hellfire. Inferno. Absolute. 

Paradoxically, it edges into dry heat—wildfires: burning forests, charred logs, crumbling charcoal, ashes—but your skin is drenched in sweat; sticky, tacky. Hot springs. Lavascape. 

You're drowning in Phlegethon, hands clawing at molten skin to stay afloat. 

"Shush, shush—"

It's a wheezing rasp. A rumble that rebounds against the carverous, limestone walls and echoes in your ears. The vibrations of it rattle through your chest and dislodge the panic from between your ribs. 

"Easy, now."

Despite the smoked-cured softness of the voice above you, around you, in you, it booms through your marrow; the sudden shift of the plates. A tectonic shockwave that bludgeons into you. 

"Can't—" you start, words a desperate, aching whine. "Can't—John—it's so hot—!"

His answer is a grunt; a rolling, monstrous sound that shivers across your skin. It's easy, with his front pressed against your back, his words hissed into your crown, to forget that he isn't a man. That his body is made of the valleys: carved from chiselled andesite, graphite, and limestone. Coursing through his veins is ichor and brimstone, fed from the burning pyre inside his chest that blooms tuffs of smoke, and reeks of ash. 

He quiets you with another low pur, and feeds the tips of his steel claws into your flesh, anchoring you tight to his body.

And then you hear the fire-painted voice speak from between his nicotine fangs: "I know." 

And you suppose he would. 

Molten blood. Igneous skin. His voice is Pyroclastic: tephra falling from his heaving chest. 

With the exception of his pointed, angular claws, his hands almost look human. Almost. 

But when they grip your hips tight, the skin of his palms feels too thick. Too velveteen. Like the soft underbelly of a reptile.

Those claws hold you steady as he slides the full, burning length of himself into you. The blunt press of his cock splitting you apart, and the rasp of his knuckles, rough with blackened osteoderms protruding from his thick skin, makes you shiver. It feels like sandpaper when it prickles over your flesh. 

You try to gasp but the oxygen in the room is swallowed by the flames. Try to move but his weight on your body is a plutonic ash bed. A prison. 

Jewels and gems nip at your skin when you ramble to find purchase on the treasure trove of his nest, to find something to hold onto while your body is slowly consumed by the unrelenting heat of him stretching you into a shape you do not recognise. 

"Tryna run?" He mocks. "Thought you could handle it, mm? Wasn't that our deal? Do you know what happens to little humans who try to break their promises?"

You want to bite back something scathing, something dripping in venom and cruelty, but the words are ground into peat salt when he presses the full weight of himself onto you, using the momentum to snap his hips harder, faster, than he was before. 

(You swear, swear, you feel the white-hot tip of him digging harshly into your sternum.)

But he's merciful—to a degree—and his hand lifts, drops in front of your nose, claws gleaming in the flames that surround his den, his prison, his home. 

You take in the sight of his heat-scorched skin—a chromosphere of living magma: blistering red dusted with fine ash. It's pretty. Stunning. You're mesmerised by the ripples of fire running in thick rivulets beneath his carbonised pelt, and you know, then, why he's so sought after. Respected. Feared. 

(Who would try and run afoul around a man, a being, a beast, who has hellfire burning in his veins?)

The brief respite splinters when he shifts forward, pushing himself as deep into your body as he can possibly go, and the world around you lists sharply on its axis when he pulses, branding you from the inside out, turning your body into a magma chamber that only fits him—

You can't breathe—haven't been able to since you rocked up to the smouldering cavern on the side of a mountain, and demanded he make a deal with you. It's hard to acclimate to the carbon-rich air that thrums around you like a thick curtain of plasma, threatening to consume you whole. 

"Easy, now, pretty thing," he purrs again and the deep rumble that spills from his expansive chest seems to glue to each bone in your body, reverberating deep within your liquifying marrow.

His elbow falls, chin presses into your crown. He breathes you in, and the world around you shudders, and ripples like the glimmering sea of a heat haze. An optical illusion. A mirage. But one that flexes around you like water; moulding to your body, and filling in all the crevasses and canyons until the plasmic air clings to your skin. 

Smoke billows with his exhale. You scent charred tobacco leaves, brimstone, crushed granite, and burning rock—sharp and acrid. The smell sticks to the back of your throat and colours your lungs in a fine layer of rock dust.

The world around you shakes when he growls into your crown, nose pressed tight to your sweat-slicked skin. 

It feels like an earthquake rattling inside of you, shaking loose the paper-thin threads of sanity that keep you still beneath his bulk.

"Ah, John—"

His forearm slides closer to your gasping mouth, and you scent guncotton on his skin. Thick. Heady. It makes your head swim, and a fever bloom in your veins. 

"There," he huffs into your hair, and the plume of his voice heats the world around you by several degrees. "Now you have something to hold on to, love." 

His voice is pinched with something that sounds mockingly cruel, mordant, but there's a softness in the way he holds you close; a tenderness that biles the roughness of his hands, the sharp drag of his claws against your flesh. 

"Now," he continues, hand tightening on your skin hard enough to bruise your tremulous bones. "Be good, and let me fuck you." 

With that, he snaps forward until he's once buried to the hilt. Fangs prickle across your shoulder blade when he lowers his maw to your skin. Each heavy exhale through his nose leaves a scorching mark over your flesh until it's blistered and raw. 

He sets a brutal pace, and each time he sinks in deep, you feel something inside of you splinter, break. It's unlike anything, anything, you'd ever felt before—a liquid pleasure and pain that melts together into burning heat. It feels like euphoria and punishment in the same breath: an equilibrium of salvation and condemnation.   

Each growl that leaves his heaving chest shakes the cobwebs from between your ribs, and fills them with ash and smoke. It seeps into your bloodstream, poisoning you with each harsh stroke. 

(You forgot that he was poisonous—)

But it's too late. 

Lost in the delirious cloud of heat, ozone, and John, all you can do is wrap your tiny hands around the thick of his forearm, nails barely leaving a mark on his thick pelt, and cling to him as he takes what you offered with greedy claws, and gluttonous eyes, pounding you into his bed of furs, and stolen gems and gold. Treasure toppled to the ceiling of the cavern they warned you to stay away from. The precious clutch of a monster who protects his wares with fire and madness. Raining wrath and fury, white-hot rage and red-hot desperation, down on anyone who dares to get close. 

It's too much, too much, but you knew what you were getting into when you tried to barter with him.

("Let's make a deal—"

And he'd said, "you must be desperate. Don't you know what I am—"

His noctilucent eyes burned in the dark. 

Mocking. Cruel. Hungry.)

All you can do now is hope, somehow, that you make out in a single piece. That all your vibrating atoms stay whole; intact. That you don't lose yourself inside the madness of heat, and burning fire. 

That you'll make it out, alive.

—if, of course, he lets you go—

But those hopes are dashed when his molten tongue flickers out, laving a burning path across your neck. 

"You'll look so good in all my gold," he snarls, a thundershock right into your core. 

And then he sinks his fangs into your neck. 

You should have known from the start when he looked at you with hunger, rapacious greed in his keen, sharp eyes that you were not leaving his den again. 

(The most precious piece in his hoard.)

Your body is a wicker pyre made to be burned. From the charred ashes, something new will rise. A phoenix trapped in the paws of a beast who likes pretty, shiny things, and will never let go. 

(And really, what else did you expect when you decided to tempt a dragon?)

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader Part 12

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 11, Part 13

Putting this early so y'all got something to read while waiting for Fontaine. Gl on wishing/saving!

Warning! This is SAGAU which is yandere, plus my story is imposter au which makes things even worse. You can expect detailed descriptions of sensitive topics like blood in this chapter.

The water is still as Mountain Shaper relays your claim to the other adepti. The cutting gaze they have is deflected by that calm expression you wear.

"Then before we deal with them, let's wrap up the situation with the children." Ganyu speaks softly as her eyes move past your form with wariness. 

Xingqiu and Chongyun relax at the sight of Ganyu.With her around, the punishment from the adepti should be prevented.

"Thank you both for coming to save the children, and I'm sorry we weren't in time to help that poor boy. I'm afraid I'll have to burden you both with the task of bringing them back to the city. This would be quite a big deal, especially for you, Xingqiu, as the son of such a prestigious family."

Xingqiu freezes up at the mention of his family while Ganyu takes out a notepad. She writes something on it and hands it over to him.

"This is a brief report on what happened, your cover up is that I asked you to bring them back home. You and your friend will have to give a report to the Millelith and when I get back, I can finish the report. I can get the needed information from your... teammate."

The skepticism and slight disgust in her voice makes it perfectly clear what she thinks about you. She didn't even want to thank you for participating in saving the children.

Ganyu is an adepti, even if she is half human, and that is why she has some of that signature arrogance. She always did jump to conclusions; like how she attacked that Fatui skirmisher that was berry picking. Her arrogance only makes it harder for her to change her mind until it's nearly too late.

Xingqiu smiles politely but the twitch in his eyebrow as he accepts the note says it all. Chongyun's face visibly sours but he keeps quiet. They both turn to you, silently asking if it's okay for them to leave you here.

Your lips stretch into a cheery smile and you give them a thumbs up. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. Just make sure Yiran gets to her father and that the mother of that poor boy gets his body."

They leave with the children clinging to them, the children still have remnants of tears in their eyes. You can only silently command Teyvat to make their journey back to the city as safe as possible.

"One knows not why this interloper is not already decaying at our feet. Surely any being that claims such a frivolous thing deserves to be sacrificed to the glorious Creator."

Rude as always, Cloud Retainer is the first to ignite the hatred for you. In Genshin she was always comedic relief after the Archon quest but it's different with your current position.

"Don't be so quick to see to my death, Cloud Retainer. Surely Mountain Shaper has already told you what secret information I know about you all." You smoothly comment. 

"The young herbalist is not impossible to hold information on, it's the scent of Teyvat on you that led me to not kick you off my mountain." Moon Carver interferes calmly. You get the sense that he's the most curious on who you are in contrast to the rest that just want you to die.

"Like I said, I'm an Oracle for the Creator themself. Surely you aren't going to doubt Teyvat in who it chooses to embrace."

"Mimicry is a common tactic among evildoers like yourself. Perhaps you're a demonic spirit from the old war hiding in human flesh. It would suffice as an explanation for the way you used that little girl to buy time for yourself." 

Mountain Shaper pushes the agenda of some evil lurking within you. Honestly, it's starting to annoy you but becoming emotional would only fuel them further.

"I only spoke to Yiran so rashly due to your stupid rules. Who focuses on intruders that you clearly saw came for the children instead of the terrified young girl? She was scared from the massacre and felt responsible for that boy's death. That same dead boy’s mother that you proceeded to insult."

"And why should we concern ourselves with the folly of humans?"

"I'm not asking you to. I'm saying that you should at least allow the other humans to help those children, yet you treat adults and children like they have the same mental capacity. Not surprising as adepti couldn't possibly understand the complexity of humanity but it’s still quite disappointing that you cannot even see the logic."

Your words earn you a sharp amber tearing into the skin of your left arm.  A low curse escapes you as you yank the injured arm away from the crimson painted amber. Examining the wound with a grimace, you apply pressure to slow the bleeding. The puncture wound lets your blood stain the clothing and drip off. 

It didn't go all the way through but in certain areas your vein and arteries can be seen. Not broken, just exposed and so very painful. Resisting the tears, you dig into your bag with your good hand for the medical kit.

As you clean and wrap up your wound, you can hear the adepti arguing.

"What are you doing you old coot? One was looking to expose their lies, not attack in such a haste. Now that filthy blood is staining my abode."

"Cloud Retainer is correct on this topic. As devoted worshippers of our caliber, having the ability to unravel the demonic lies is true proof of our strength."

It's so funny, you almost want to laugh in their faces. 'Filthy blood'? Your blood is the one that they worship like salvation. 'Demonic lies?' Isn't the Creator's word's law and truth no matter the message?

That haughtiness that leads them to try beating you at your own game will be their downfall. You'll enjoy this new act. After all...

They're only the stepping stones for the showdown between you and the Geo Archon.

With a bandaged arm that sends dull aches and electrifying pain at intervals, you smile and speak in a sweet tone.

"Finished conversing yet? If you're ready to try exposing my nonexistent lie then get rid of this amber cage and let me show you firsthand why I'm the Creator's Oracle."

Your serene smile is met with sharp glares, distrustful eyes and a timid gaze that speaks first.

"And what proof or action will you show us?"

"Well, I have multiple ways, but illuminated beings like yourself will not be satisfied with that. You'll see it as a trick, a prepared prop to convince you all. So instead, why don't you ask me to do something or relay something to the creator? Something that you're positive I can't complete."

Beisht's scale seems to make your bag heavier with the reminder of its existence. But it's not time for it yet. The adepti only see Beisht as an enemy, that gamble isn't one you're willing to risk just yet.

"One would never ask you to pray to the creator and sully their ears with your sinful voice. One has a better idea on what you can do as 'proof'. As much as One hates to let you get closer, it is necessary to enter my abode."

Mountain Shaper seems to grumble as the other adepti force him to release you. Chains made of Geo and Dendro wrap around your wrists and tug you forward. 

Were you truly that untrustworthy in their eyes? Four adepti against one human, the outcome is obvious, but you keep a leisurely pace behind them.

Cloud Retainer's domain-like door opens and once you all step inside, the door shuts with a loud bang. It's just like how you remembered it in the game.

An absolute confusing mess.

Ganyu and Cloud Retainer cross the barely hanging rock bridge with ease, Meanwhile Moon Carver and Mountain Shaper throw remarks at her.

"What is the meaning of such a mess? It's in even worse condition than when we visited 300 years ago."

"One's abode is not of your concern. It is normal for one to keep it in the environment that suits one's needs."

Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper continue to bicker back and forth as you are led through the turning platforms and transparent golden bridges. 

"Maybe if a certain mortal had just accepted death as their punishment, we wouldn't have to be going through this disorganization."

As adepti, they probably could have just flown to the top where Cloud Retainers' main ruins are but as you are clearly human, they had to take the long way. They don't bother to keep that fact quiet but Moon Carver constantly saying that only makes you walk slower in pettiness.

The main ruin finally comes into view and you remember the initial conversation with Cloud Retainer when you had to discuss Morax's fake death. The door behind that never let players in, is now open. 

Entering you are greeted with long hallways with inventions in different stages of creation littering it. Texts, and murals of different time periods cover the walls. Morax, Guizong, the Yaksha and even other adepti you don't recognize are there.

A left turn at a three way intersection goes to a large room decorated beautifully with feathers and gemstones alike. The image of you forming an egg that has brown scales and gold accents is the main centerpiece. 

This must be how they believe you created Morax. Then does that solve the question on whether the egg or the chicken comes first? 

Cloud Retainer stops in the middle of the room and spreads her wings to point at the sides of the room that are inscribed with text.

"Ever since One took residence in this abode, One has never been able to decipher the text, nor has any other being that got One's permission to enter this sacred room been able to decipher it. If you are truly the Oracle then surely you must be able to decode such scriptures."

"Then let's see just what message this scripture contains." Your proud words are all the bravado you need to walk past their eyes and approach the closest words on the left wall.

As you move to walk past Cloud Retainer's form, she brings her wing down to cover your path.

"Death is the only ending for you in One's eyes. If you fail to translate, then you'll die. If you tarnish or destroy it, then you'll die. And if you refuse, then death will claim you before you can even finish your words." 

"I understand full and well, Cloud Retainer. My life belongs to the Creator, no matter how difficult or painful."

Her wing cuts through your shackles with ease. Now free, you walk past with that confident posture you've held throughout this meeting. Your hands itch to run over the wall and pray that Teyvat will automatically translate it as it had done for everything else. Yet when you get close enough to make out the words, you smile widely. A sight so beautiful for your poor eyes.

'Elemental creatures of all kinds must continue to worship the maker of all things to maintain their loving and personal connection. Refusing or forgetting to do so is the same as rejecting or not caring for them. Consequences are dire and just like trust, it'll be much harder to restore.'

Your language is written on the wall in clear letters. Your luck seems to have turned around for now. You could do so much with this information.

"I can understand this perfectly. It's the language the Creator uses to communicate on the world they're resting in. The scripture describes elemental worship that is specific to only elemental beings."

You recite the first text with ease as the room goes quiet. Not a laugh, scoff nor grumble is heard in the room. Should you take this as a bad or good thing? 

Pushing onward you begin to translate the rest of the text on both sides of the room. It gives a detailed explanation on how to sacrifice body parts, energy, blood, and lifeforce. 

"Stop, we have heard enough." Moon Carver cuts in emotionlessly. You look back at them feigning a confused expression. Trouble is clear on their faces, the truth of your words is spreading guilt within them.

Inwardly your lips curve into a smile that seems to soothe the pain in your arm.

They aren't guilty from the approaching truth of your 'oracle' status being real. They're feeling guilt over the worship methods that they had forgotten.

But pompous beings like them will never accept their wrong-doings so easily.

"You speak of words that poison our minds and weigh our hearts with guilt. This may be but a sham that you wish to deceive us with. Us, illuminated beasts will not accept this method until it's been proven in our sights."

With a careless shrug and scoff, you speak to Mountain Shaper with an uncaring attitude. "I would happily do it to myself just to prove my words true, but I'm not an elemental being like you all were so happy to point out. It seems one of you will have to test it out or we'll never get anywhere."

"Or perhaps we can end this farce now and eliminate you from the beloved maker's gaze." His angry reaction has you covering your mouth in surprise.

"You would skip past the proper protocols in the case concerning the Creator? Where is your devotion? Your faith? Or are you just afraid to do so and see the honesty in my words? Maybe it's a mix of both..."

Mountain Shaper takes a clawed step forward that makes the ruins shake. Cloud Retainer blocks his path with her wing.

"One has had enough of this Shaper! Treat the eulogies and artwork of the creator with more respect."

"It is shameful that an illuminated being like yourself is being led by a mortal like that. Are we not the ones who survived this long despite the varying enemies and plots? Calm yourself before you sully the Creator's pride with your uncontrollable wrath."

Mountain Shaper looks pissed as his eyes glare at you with malice. The temptation to flip him off with a shit-eating grin is too strong and he turns away like a toddler at your crude actions.

"I can do the ritual for us to learn the truth on this matter." A timid voice steps in during the brief silence. All eyes turn to Ganyu as she keeps her hands close to her chest.

"All the work I do is for Liyue, Rex Lapis, and most importantly: the Creator. If this method is true then I can learn a more intimate way to worship them. And if not, then I can keep the creator's reputation pure by utterly destroying Y/N."

Her words are soft and gentle but turn dark near the end as she stares at you seriously. The adepti stay quiet seeming to respect her bold actions even if Cloud Retainer seems just a bit ruffled.

"You said that there are many different offerings to give, all with their own reward. Which one would give the best result?"

"The energy sacrifice would be the most convenient and easiest but it doesn't fit you well due to your lethargic nature. Your body is physically strong so a blood offering would be the best choice."

Ganyu's eyes seem to follow your form as you step closer to the section that contains the instructions for the blood offering. She's no doubt trying to figure out how you could know about that without considering the possibility of you being the Oracle true.

You read it out loud so that everyone is on the same page before looking back at them.

"So let's start with the main things. We'll need a clear area outside along with a ceremonial dagger and cup. I'll wait here and write down all the ritual instructions for future use."

In Genshin you always know a NPC is suspicious when they want to 'wait and write' something while you do the actual work. The distrustful looks they all send you feel the same way.

They leave Ganyu to watch over you while they all leave to prepare the ritual. Deciding to leave Ganyu alone, you go back to jotting down the text into your handbook.

It's quiet to the point of it being uncomfortable yet you diligently finish the notes and simply doodle on the free space. Ganyu's eyes never stop running down your body, you ask yourself if she's even blinking.

"Before I came here to visit, I heard of an incident at Liyue Harbor. About two geovishap hatchlings that went feral and caused a mess. The most interesting part was how the 'winner' displayed its trophy to a masked stranger."

Ah, Ganyu... 3,000 years old and counting half-qilin adeptus with a whole war as experience. Did you ever forget her knowledge? No, you just simply underestimated her resilience to erosion. 

"Is there something you want to ask me about that incident? If so, just spit it out. Communication is important, a secretary like yourself should know that much."

"I have no doubt that you are the person in the incident. I'm conflicted over how you came to your... position. Someone tricking the people is normal and still saddening. But someone trying to trick the adepti? Foolish and stupid. I will stop you either way but just know that I will not stand for your evil actions."

A laugh slips past your lips as your gaze falls onto her firm stance. Gentle and quiet are the words to describe qilin yet the conflict avoiding nature seemed to have skipped Ganyu's genes. 

"Then I hope you repent properly to the creator for refusing to believe their loyal servant for speaking the truth." You move to stand in front of her and stare deeply into her eyes with mirth. "It seems the adepti have already returned. Why don't we get going?"

Not a moment later, Cloud Retainer's voice rings out, calling for you both to come outside. Smiling cheerfully, you follow Ganyu out of Cloud Retainer's home.

The moon's glow tenderly caresses your skin and bandaged arm as the water laps at your legs. The adepti stand on the small patch of land as you and Ganyu trudge across the water. On the table is a clean dagger with intricate gold patterns and a gold chalice decorated with Noctilucous Jade.

Dagger and chalice in hand, you survey the area with a critical eye. Smiling, you point at an area of water.

"The water here is clean and clear so it fits the bill in what the ritual needs. Follow me Ganyu." Not bothering to look back you walk deeper into the water, even still the water only reaches above your knees.

"Words are not needed, only actions. Kneel and choose a place for me to cut you. Your blood has to fill the chalice to the brim."

She goes along with your words and kneels, letting the liquid soak her clothes without complaint. Grabbing ahold of her beautiful white sleeve, she pulls it off, exposing her arm.

"Cut my arm in a long shallow slit so it can be filled quickly without too much damage."

"Alright, let me go over the steps once more as your time is limited once it's filled." With practiced ease, you cut her arm and watch her blood flow into the chalice. Not even a peep escapes her from the pain.

"You'll hold the chalice with both hands raising it into the air to signify that you are offering. Keep your eyes closed and pray for what you wish to communicate to the creator. In this case, you want to pray for the creator to accept your blood offering as the first step to forgiveness. After that you'll just need to follow my lead."

Ganyu nods solemnly and you move the now filled chalice to her hands carefully to avoid spilling it. Her eyelids flutter shut as her hands hold the chalice high in the air. The air seems to still as her lips move to mouth a silent prayer.

The blood that drips down her arm and into the water seems hypnotizing. To think you’d really hurt someone to hide your lie. It's different then the case with Beisht; you hurt Beisht to prove your identity. What you have done to Ganyu is a line you may have to cross again in the future. What if you eventually kill someone to hide your lie? The thought seems ludicrous to you now but so did hurting someone before this moment...

Your thoughts seem to still when the blood dripping from her wound changes in color. No, not just color but in texture too. Those wine red drops shift to a mix of pink and blue. It solidifies into a small glittering object that clinks softly as it hits the water.  

It flashes for a moment before dissolving into water like it never existed. Was that truly what a primogem looked like in real life?

An indescribable feeling swells up in your chest, soft whispers lead your body closer to Ganyu without a fight. Shakily your hands cover hers as that intangible feeling urges you to speak.

'I accept your offering' is nearly spoken but even in this haze of dopamine and serotonin, your self control is firm.

"The Creator accepts your offering." Your words are shaky with unknown emotions. Is this Ganyu's feelings towards you as the creator? It's gentle and rests on your soul like a weighted blanket feebly trying to pull you into a deep sleep.

Reminding yourself of the ritual at hand, you begin to tilt the chalice toward the ground. The scripture never specified what would happen but the sight you receive is beyond what you could expect.

What pours out of the chalice is not scarlet liquid, but thousands of primogems that clink and clank as it hits the water. Just like earlier, it dissolves leaving bubbles that cloud the starry sky that was reflected on the surface.

When the last primogem hits the water, you release Ganyu's hands and step back. You look up at the night sky that begins to glow with color as your voice cuts through the tense silence.

"Open your eyes Ganyu, it's time to see your wish revitalized. The Creator accepted your offering after all."

Coral and lavender eyes open slowly and go wide at the sight of the sky. The chalice is gripped in tightly on her lap as the night blooms with blue and purple wishes.

A single gold star begins to travel through the air at high speeds. Noticing its course you step farther away from Ganyu as she stays kneeling in amazement at the sight.

Before anyone can speak, the gold shooting star hits Ganyu and engulfs her spot with a beam of light. It's harsh on your eyes but the game screen that automatically opens in front of you soothes it.

Ganyu's splash art is the only thing you see before you click it off with a triumphant smile. Skipping through all the other wishes and four star constellations, the game screen and gold light disappear at the same time.

A shocked and confused Ganyu could be expected. A quietly happy and thankful Ganyu was expected. But the half qilin adeptus silently bawling her eyes out as she stays kneeling in the water was what greeted you instead.

The other adepti don't hesitate to move to your area with inhuman speed from where they were watching. You expected Mountain Shaper to be the first one to attack you as Moon Carver stands protectively in front of Ganyu but it seems the adepti didn't like to respond logically.

Sharp talons wrapped around your neck as the weight of the crane pushes you back onto the water. The unexpected submersion has you coughing uncontrollably underwater as your body seems to be weighed down by something invisible.

Fingers dig into your throat as blurry yells make your heart pound with panic.

"It's all your fault!" 

"None of this would have happened if you didn't exist!"

"Should have just let me do what I want with you, you pathetic fuck!"

Sickle in hand your attacks are choppy as the electro sputters in and out of existence. The fingers turn into a bruising, clawed grip once more as your free hand grabs a fistful of feathers.

The crane is pulled away and by extension you're pulled out of the water too. The water droplets make your vision blur as you try to calm your hyperventilation into something less vulnerable.

Cloud Retainer is held back by all three adepti as she squawks with indignation. The ringing in your ears prevents you from hearing anything more than, "One has not seen Ganyu cry in such a way since she was a child!"

Ganyu seems more than embarrassed as she repeatedly tells Cloud Retainer something you can't be bothered to make out. Your nails dig into the blood and feathers in your hand as you stare at the missing patch of feathers on Cloud Retainers body.

You're cold, wet, hungry, and so very tired but that bald patch you left on the noisy crane makes you feel happy in a vengeful way. If you weren't still reeling from the near death experience you would have loved to comment on her new preen.

The situation seems to calm down as Ganyu and the rest explain something thoroughly to Cloud Retainer. It's obvious that she had gone on a rampage due to Ganyu's reaction without bothering to view the situation in full. A rare mistake for someone as meticulous as her.

With care and concern only for the present, you move to the edge of the mountain and stare out across the sky. The view of Liyue is muddled yet enhanced by the starry sky. The grass under your shoes is welcome in comparison to the pond that nearly swallowed you whole.

Your fingers mindlessly pick at the healing scabs and bruises from the treasure hoarder fiasco. The grimace on your face is not from the pain of the jostled arm but the uncomfortable feeling of wet bandages. Carefully, your fingers trace the new talon marks on your neck that you gained from Cloud Retainer. Should you get hurt by Moon Carver too, to collect wounds from all three?

The grass crunches behind you and you already know what is about to happen. Your eyebrows pinch in worry and your gaze rarely leaves the floor as the adepti stand face to face with them.

"I'm so sorry for my reaction earlier. I was so surprised and overjoyed that the sacrifice convinced the Creator to awaken me that I reacted in such a shameful way. It's due to my failure to keep my emotions in check that you got hurt. Please forgive me."

Your mind is blank but your body is well versed in what to do, what lies to say. Softening eyes are steady with Ganyu's as your fingers gingerly touch the claw marks.

"I understand Ganyu, the creator's grace is an amazing thing. Be sure to serve them properly from now on." With a near patronizing tone you speak to the adepti as a whole.

"Don't you see what damage you had done to me? The creator is love, peace, justice and truth. I hope you don't think they'll let Cloud Retainer and Mountain Shaper off easy for harming me who has taken on such a heavy and dangerous burden."

Facades are only good if you know how to upkeep and keep track of them. If you act like some soft pushover now, they'll be suspicious. You slide into the control seat of the spider web of lies you've created as easily as breathing. 

Rest? Mental breakdowns? Dissociative states? Hallucinations from past traumatic experiences? All of those things must be pushed into the crevice in your mind. The same crevice that seems to grow deeper and darker with each passing year since your birth. Those thoughts can consume you when you're safe, if that day ever comes.

They react exactly as you expected; haughty but thoroughly humbled with seeds of self doubt planted in their hearts. Breaking even a fraction of their pride in their fake-ass devotion brings a longing for them to crumble even more.

You go along with conversation while conserving as much energy as possible. Ganyu was the only one with enough sensibility to apologize to you so why should you care about the rest of them? If they had Ganyu carry and apologize in their stead then they should be just as fine with you only giving her actual attention.

Pointing out this fact seemed to stun them into a tense silence. Your body naturally goes on edge expecting some sort of attack but nothing comes. Instead they present you with a few apologies without using words.

"As a faithful servant of the Creator, you are welcomed anytime in Jueyun Karst, as well as any other areas that would be deemed off-limits within our authority."

"Why not stay in One's home for the night after the enlightening events that have occurred today? One is not a careless host and will be sure to provide all that you need during your stay."

It honestly wasn't a bad idea, your mind and body were not fit for teleporting to Liyue and setting up camp. You accepted the offer despite knowing that the sleep you will get will not be fulfilling.

The conversations they hold as you are fed and tended to flow in one ear and out the other. The most notable information you picked up was how they wanted to try the method themself and even spread it to Xiao in hopes of the creator lessening his karmic debt.

It's Ganyu that accompanies you to a guest room that Cloud Retainer somehow managed to not make messy. The other adepti seem to think that you like her in some way when little to their knowledge, you're simply fond of her.

Not in the way that you want to be near or interact with her. She apologized for being part of the reason you were attacked. She still hasn't apologized for all her previous rude actions. You liked her the same way as you did on Earth. Only as a character.

A voice whispers that it's better than how you refuse to associate with Ei in any way.

You lay down on a clean mattress in the comforting silence of the night. You're dry, warm, full, and comfortable yet still as on edge as before. The eyebags you wear are not from random all-nighters but from the never-ending cycle of lying for a living. Both on Earth and on Teyvat.

Sleep doesn't come easy, not with the constant fear of talons holding you down. Nor with the unease of amber cutting through your skin. Rest comes in spurts of deep sleep before hands are choking you again back into the waking world. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget who your family was too.

Your internal clock is all sorts of confused as you wake up for the 50th time. Judging by the lack of discomfort in your body, you couldn't have slept more than an hour. 

Pale green glows in the corner of your eyes making you speed into sitting position. You catch the faintest glimpse of a horned masked bearing large fangs and glowing teal eyes. 

You blink at the spot as your breath is harsh even to your own ears. Was it real? Was he here? Why would he be?

For what reason would he watch you sleep if not to investigate?

The cool mask calms your clammy skin. If he had looked under it, you wouldn't be here anyway. It's that morbid thought that brings you peace. 

How ironic.

Knowing that sleep will not come to you for a while, you get dressed and follow the vague memory of the path Ganyu took when bringing you to the guest room. 

It leads to the domain doors to the outside and the brush of your fingertips on the stone doors has it moving smoothly. The early morning sun warms the stone walkway as you exit into the free space.

The sight of the pond trudges up memories of yesterday. With a bright smile and light footsteps, you hurry down the staircase and jump over the water with ease.

"-yet how could we possibly forget such a vital ritual?" "One suspects larger factors are at play." "The records in our abodes should show-"

Catching the near ending of such a serious conversation, you slow down as they all turn to look at you.

"Awake already Y/N? Would you like a light breakfast?" Ganyu is the first to speak, the other adepti are surely still examining you. Now far more lucid than last night you are positive that having another meal with them would be a true nightmare.

"I'm not hungry when it's so early so I'll pass for now. There are many private duties that the creator asks of me and it would be best that I get straight to it. Yet there's a slight problem."

The adepti seem to tense up in unison, not that they are wrong for doing so. You've been a consistent thorn in their side since you met Mountain Shaper.

"You see, my body has not fully recovered from the injuries that I received from fighting the treasure hoarders. And with the how rough I was handled by you all, my injuries were reopened."

The wind ruffles your hair as if highlighting the bruise and talon marks. Your left hand is pressed against your chest making the sun shine on the bandaged arm. The parts of damaged exposed skin are the icing on the cake.

"Then what is it that you desire oracle of the beloved? Do you wish to check on the children that were saved?" Mountain Shaper's voice is like ice. Sharp when cold like yesterday but smooth when controlled correctly.

It was a good thing you slept, even if it was sucky. You almost missed out on such a great bargaining chip!

"That is one thing I plan to do when I head to the city but there's a few things before that. Since you're already offering to take me then it would be a great help if you can take me to this location."

Shamelessly you hold out the map in your handbook with the only commission location left.

Increasing Danger - Hilichurls are building towers in the circled area. Destroy these towers for the safety of the people.

Mountain Shaper sighs tiredly and is about to respond when you cut him off on purpose. 

"Oh and those ceremonial tools we used in the ritual yesterday? I need them. The creator is an all-loving deity that would never desire to push away the innocent and loyal beings in Teyvat unless they deserved it. The creator wishes to conduct more rituals if necessary."

Cloud Retainer seems to stare at you in shock at the forceful way you pushed for the items you desire. The dagger and chalice glint in the sunlight as she resists the urge to hide them from your greedy eyes.

"But before you drop me off for good at my commission site, I'll need you all to help me activate the teleport waypoints. There's no way I'm climbing those mountains again. Besides, the creator blessed you all with such power, how could you not use it to support a fellow devotee?"

Your smile widens to bare all your teeth as Moon Carver avoids looking directly at you. They may be reluctant but you always make sure to have your debts be paid with interest. The price for hurting, exhausting, and stressing you out is not one to sneeze at either.

Quite a few teleport waypoints were activated with the dagger and chalice safely in your bag. Adeptus powers really were useful in situations like these. Within half an hour you had activated enough to safely teleport around Jueyun Karst without fear of running into the adepti again.

As Mountain Shaper sets you down nearby the hilichurl camp and towers for your commission, his curiosity finally gets the best of him.

"For what reason did you discolor so many teleport waypoints?"

"I can teleport using them due to the creator's blessing. Now that I activated them, I can teleport to all of your mountains whenever I want to visit!"

Each word you say with a cheerful grin seems to send him deeper into agony. He nods tightlipped and flies away. The wind brings his muttered words to your words. 

"A vacation is in order. A vacation for as long as possible."

Messing with the adepti was really fun. You just hoped that they would go on vacation permanently, your job would be much easier that way.

All you have left is to finish this commission, teleport to the waypoint near the harbor's entrance and get your money. Simple as that. Opening the game window from your safe viewing spot of the hilichurl camp, you begin to review all the books on hilichurls.

First and foremost, thank you to the editor of this chapter @serpent-benediction! He was a huge help even if he terrorized me the whole time </3

It gives me more time to add some fun stuff like italics and bold. Stories pack more of a punch with flair, in my eyes at least. All the improvements to the chapter are his work like capitalizing Oracle and Creator. We did debate on whether adepti was species or title. So yall are free to give your opinion on which it is and whether it should be capitalized. I'm glad to see that (almost) all the build-up to the adepti part is finished. Well for the adepti at least. I was like dead tired after the choking part so that's why it may be a bit wonky. Now that I'm not pressed for time (yet. Sep is coming soon) I wanted to thank everyone for staying this long in the series! I love reading and responding to comments. I love reading the notes and/or tags from reblogs. I don't know if I should respond to reblogs like I do to comments. Cause I see some really in-depth reblogs that I wanna respond to but I end up not doing that thanks to my thoughts of-'Is that weird, strange or uncomfortable?' I just don't wanna scare anyone off. And for those that might wonder why Y/N was choking here but not with Beisht, it's due to Retainer. Retainer was using her adeptus power to pressure the water against Y/N which caused the drowning and bruises. I hope that clears it up a lil!

I'm a dumbass, I forgot the taglist. That's why it looked so short in my eyes. Everyone is allowed to yell at me for this (except for my editor) Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @undecidingfate, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @zhonglisfruityass, @fluffy-koalala, @mer0n37, @victoria1676, @mochinessss, @sinnful-darling, @emilymikado

[genshinwomenontop]

Can you make a cloud retainer x adeptus reader? Like a continuation of the previous fic of yours but Shehe and Ganyu found out soon that their master was pregnant with reader child and want to protect the unborn child

Also keep it spicy if you can

-💜anon

Aww Shenhe and Ganyu's reaction to their master being pregnant 🥹

"Master's child"

☆Prompt: After you impregnated your adeptus wife, Shenhe and Ganyu became very over protective of her and their soon to be little brother/sister.

☆Warnings: G!P Adeptus Reader, smut, fluff, mother-daughters moment.

"That's it y/n keep hitting that spot ahh~" Xianyun moaned as your enormous cock kept hitting her g-spot. It's been five hours now and you seem to be unable to resist your wife. She looked so beautiful; her legs on your shoulder, her chest and boobs covered with hickies, her hair sprawled out.

You increased your pace, making her eyes roll to the back as her tongue came out, drool leaking out. Xianyun felt her nineth orgasm approaching and without warning, she squirted all over your dick, the force making you groan as you emptied your balls inside her womb. With your Adeptus strength and stamina, you wanted more, however, Xianyun couldn't keep up and you didn't want to break her.

Pulling out your dick, you saw your mixed cum pour out of her and the sight looked truly tempting but you held back, seeing the passed out Xianyun. You cuddled into her side and soon drifted off to sleep.

A few weeks have passed since that steamy night and you've noticed that Xianyun has been avoiding you. It hurt you and left you confused as to why she did that. You even went as far as to ask Shenhe, Ganyu, and Zhongli but didn't find an answer. The only thing left to do was to confront her and that you did. Xianyun and you were seated on Mountain shaper's Mountain. "Well, are you gonna answer me? Why are you avoiding me? If something is bothering you, let me know."

Xianyun sighed and adjusted her glasses. "There has been nothing bothering me but I..." this was the first time you saw her so vulnerable and scared. You gently pulled her into a hug as her eyes widened.

"Something is bothering you, I can tell. Please, what's going in that pretty head of yours? Hmm?"

"One has recently found out that one may be carrying your child." You blinked a few times before your jaw dropped.

"You're pregnant? How? When?"

"It seemed after that night. I wasn't feeling a tad okay, so I asked Moon Carved and Mountain Shaper to help well to basically check if I'm alright. Mountain Carver had felt another presence with us that day, but it wasn't strong. Moon Carver suggested I take a pregnancy test and well... it came back positive." You listened each word attentively, before a smile broke out from your face.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner instead of avoiding me?"

"I was scared. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise, I'm so happy right now. You're carrying my child, my own flesh and Blood."

"Master is pregnant?!" Two voices shouted from behind you making you scream. Xianyun was startled as well.

Shenhe and Ganyu jumped out from behind a rock. "Master is this true?" Shenhe asked as she approached Xianyun who sighed but nodded.

"It is. I'm going to be a mother, well a mother to a third individual," she smiled as she rubbed her belly. Ganyu approached you and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

"Congratulations you two! Oh this is wonderful! Oh we need to buy baby clothes! What will we name them? I hope it's a girl," the three of you watched as Ganyu freaked out over the unborn baby.

"I think it's a boy," Shenhe replied with a small smile. She felt extremely happy and suddenly pulled Xianyun into a hug. At first, Xianyun was puzzled but then she relaxed and eventually hugged Shenhe back, a bright smile adorning her face. Shenhe reached and pulled Ganyu into the hug and it became a trio hug. Xianyun couldn't stop smiling as she hugged both of her daughters and kissed each one of them on their foreheads.

"We can't forget the father of the baby," Shenhe smiled and both Ganyu and her embraced you as you did to them.

From then on, Ganyu and Shenhe were always buy Xianyun's side. Sometimes it's just Ganyu alone, then Sometimes it's just Shenhe, and even though you were there, they felt the need to protect their master (mother) and their little sibling.

When the baby was born, you watched as Ganyu and Shenhe got excited and it was the first time that Shenhe expressed alot of emotions. The two of them eventually fell asleep, cradling your son in their arms and you knew that, that boy will be extremely spoiled and you couldn't be more glad to have that little family.

[nouearth]

a summer phase.

jason carver x male reader.

summary: jason keeps telling himself that it's just a phase, yet it's become a weekly routine to spend the evening with you.

wc: 1.5k. warnings: explicit smut, kinda angst, handjob (r!giving, jason!giving), lots of kissing, mutual masturbation, closeted!jason, hurt!reader, internalized homophobia.

a/n: hi, hi! just a short little fic because i wanted to write jason, and i swear, we need more smut with him, haha. this kinda turned out sadder than i thought, but i do plan on making a second part to include a jealous!jason when reader is takling to eddie! i haven't been active as much and i apologize, but i hope everyone is doing great!

A gentle breeze blew in from the open window and the wind chimes gently sang from the floor below, joining two spirits that had been sharing warm pants with one another, evoking moans from another. The golden evening had settled in the background and silhouetted the writhing bodies into dark shadows. Droplets of sweat had caught onto the glimpse of fading sun, allowing Jason to memorize the detail of your body before dusk conquered his room.

The muscles that tensed when he squeezed harder around your cock, the squirms that caused the creaking of his bed when he fondled your balls, the gulps that failed to bury moans when he leaned in and kissed at your throat; you followed Jason’s lead into dusk, mirroring his actions to his own cock as he worshipped you and your presence until you were his prayer, his promise, to the kingdom of heaven.

“I’m close…” You panted into the open-mouthed kiss, legs tangled into his as both of your bodies reflected off of each other, sitting straight. Your thighs had sat sticky on his muscular pair and you can feel him tense when your rhythm quickens, your fist tightening to press the pulsing veins into his sprouted cock.

“Me too…” Jason sputtered, leaning his forehead against yours and placed a tightening hold on the back of your neck to hold you close. He held the languidness of your gaze past the heaviness of his own lids, and a terrible guilt he crept up on him because he was terribly enraptured by the effect he had on you, by the effect you had on him. He’d seen you in this state so often, even the darkness couldn’t have hidden the explosion of stars in your eyes.

It was wrong.

He pulled you forward to explore the inside of your mouth, stroking your cock at a pace you couldn’t have possibly kept up with. His tongue mined for a taste of you. Moans unfurled when the fruity cereal that you both had shared earlier spread onto his wet flesh and Jason kept exploring, kissing, moaning, tasting, until he captured the sound of your rapture and swallowed it in heavy pride, pushing down the thoughts that had been condemning him for his sins.

Your hips buckled, releasing your fist around Jason’s cock, and you came undone in several thick ropes. “Fuck—“ Your chest rose and your stomach sank as Jason’s strokes aided every second of the unimaginable pleasure, drawing you out until you were empty before him. The cum splattered onto his broad chest, dripped heavily down his toned stomach, and he reused the warm seed that gathered on his fist to lube his own cock and fuck into his fist after.

“Open your mouth—“ He rose onto his knees, breath hitching and chest rising, while there was enough light in the room for you to carefully maneuver yourself under Jason’s legs. You leaned back onto your elbows, legs sprawled, and pushed your tongue out once you tilted your head back. Droplets of your own cum dripped from his lubed erection and onto your face from the quick, yet clumsy rhythm of his strokes, but you didn’t feel stained until he neared his cock closer to your face. The strong muscles in his thighs kept him balanced on the bed and your pants began to quicken again, joining him in anticipation of his arrival to a delirious state of mind, and welcoming him with an open mouth once he comes. “Baby, I’m going to—“

Before he could finish his warning, your cheek was hit with a heavy splat, then your forehead, then on your hair, and then the centre of your face. “Fuck, Jason—“ For a basketball player, his aim was horrible, and you couldn’t help but stifle a chuckle as you kept your head tilted back, providing him a canvas for him to paint white on. You took all of the remaining thick cum in pride, replacing his hand with yours to stroke him through the shower Jason had continue to cover your face and body with.

The cum sat thick and heavy on your skin, and you basked yourself in the weight of it, sighing when you flattened yourself on the bed. Jason joined you seconds after grabbing a spare towel off his chair, groaning by your side when his sheets pressed uncomfortably wet onto his back. Doting wipes pressed to your face, then your body as he cleansed you with a gentleness that could soothe you to sleep. Though, you were only kept awake because of Jason. His lips attached to yours quickly after, and you kissed back languidly, tracing the curl of his smile with sweet chaste. He pulled away sighing and shared one last gaze that rendered every meaning of ‘beautiful’ useless until you perfectly defined it with the reserve of your smile.

There was a silence after. It thickened the sudden tension in the air, and even though the night had blinded you, you could see the parting of Jason’s lips when you turned your head to face him when he joined you by your side. The dim light from the window had highlighted the contemplative look on his face, and your heart sank to the pit of your stomach. 

You already knew what he was about to tell you. The regret in the tremor of his voice was profound, even with the slightest croak, and you immediately turned your head the other way when you felt your eyes sting.

“I-uh… I’ll get going now.” It was a routine at this point. You and him did stuff, and he apologetically shooed you out before anyone could see him with someone like you. Even if his parents wouldn’t be home for another month, the act of liking another man ignited a guilt that boiled his feelings alive. Whether they would die off or come back stronger, he’d do his best to bury them deep enough to convince him that it was a phase.

It was wrong. And it was a phase.

All a phase.

You cleared your throat to soften the swelling feeling in your chest and rolled off his bed to change back into your clothes. Coughs and ruffles of clothes covered the sound of your sniffles. He watched you in silence, guilt-ridden as your back turned towards him, and he clutched at the bed sheet to ground him from succumbing to further transgression. The frail of your back looked cold enough to reflect ice into his own hands if he was to touch you. Even when your shirt draped over it, he’d imagine the goosebumps on your body to prick him like icicles, and—so bad, he wanted to hug you even if it meant that he’d be pricked by a hundred million ice spikes. 

“I’ll drive you home…“ He surrendered, stepping out of the bed, and into his briefs and shorts.

“I can walk.” You scanned the floor for the other half of your socks, finding them near the corner of the room.

“It’s dark out, (M/N).” Jason pulled his t-shirt on and neared close, reasoning. “Besides, you live twenty minutes away—walking distance.” 

It was a desperate attempt to spend more time with you, even though it was his own guilt and pride that pushed you away. During school, it was Jason that ignored your very existence. Surrounded by adoring classmates and friends with a reputation to uphold, it was easy to. A selfish part of you wished he struggled to contain his feelings when you were within his vicinity. Instead, when your gaze met his, he looked past you as if he’d never seen the light of your eyes, as if he didn’t worship the warm sheen that resided in them nights prior. 

“It’s fine.” You layered your backpack over your shoulder, gaze casted downwards as you kicked your shoes on despite Jason’s attempt to steal a glimpse of your face. “People are going to see us.”

“I doubt anyone’s going to be out at this time now—“ You wished he would’ve said that he didn’t care about being caught. He followed you downstairs, the blades of icicles growing sharper with every step you took. “Slow down!”

“I’ll see you in class.” Your chest swelled again knowing that he’d rather choose not to, but you assured of that matter with a smile. His hand naturally reached out to take your hand, another attempt to stall you for a little while longer.

“Please? Let’s talk—“ Overcome by despair, he held your hand tight, letting the roughness of his palm linger on your own despite every second counting against his morals. Jason squeezed, intertwining his fingers into yours to lock you in place. “I-I think we can—“

But your fingers yanked back at the hook of his fingers, and you reluctantly pulled your arm back to your side. Silence fell, and the sound of Jason’s gulp swayed you back around before trudging out of his home and closing the door shut behind you.

“(M/N)!”

The warmth from your hand remained on Jason’s hand as he watched you march into the night, flexing his fingers at every lingering spark, yet you continued to be the despair of him.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like! feedback is also much appreciated!

[hornedqueenofhell]

Hidden Depths Pt. 3

Part 2

He’d just left the movie theatre when he heard it.

“Get over here freak!” His head snaps up and he gives a frantic look around before realizing that no one is coming after him. No, a glance around the front of the building reveals a group of Jason Carver’s (may he burn in hell) lackeys laying hands on Eddie Munson.

Eddie is thrashing around and trying to shove them off but he is desperately outnumbered and out muscled. They manage to bully the metalhead into the alley and Keith stands there frozen as he hears the sound of fists hitting flesh. 

He’s still standing there frozen when he sees Steve Harrington sprint across the parking lot with a baseball bat in his hands. He vanishes from view after the rest of them and all Keith hears is a deeply enraged ‘Hey!’ before several heavy thuds and pained screams come from the alley. Keith barely remembers to swallow the piece of redvine he’d been chewing as the rest drops from his mouth. God, had Steve…?

The three who’d dragged Eddie away scramble out of the alley, two of them supporting the third between them. “You’re fucking deranged Harrington!” is shouted over their shoulders as they hobble away, something must happen back where Steve is because the three pale and move even quicker in their mission to get away.

Swallowing nervously Keith starts making his way over to the front of the alley, mostly he’s going to offer to be a witness for them. The jocks never noticed him there so if they try to pull a sob story with the police at least those two can say that someone saw the jocks had started it. 

He gets to the mouth of the alley and feels his body stop cold. Eddie is pressed against the alley wall, one hand pressed to his ribs, there’s a trickle of blood from his mouth or his lip Keith isn’t sure. Munson scrubs his sleeve across his mouth and spits on the concrete.

“Stevie,” He calls, holding his other arm out. The jock is pressed to his chest in a second, his mission to retrieve his bat abandoned. Eddie sighs and wraps his arm around Steve knocking their foreheads together with a sigh. “I’m okay baby I’m okay.”

Baby?!

“You’re not,” Steve insists, he sounds frustrated as he yanks up Munson’s shirt. Eddie hisses as Steve brushes his fingers over the other man’s stomach, “Let’s go home and get you patched up.”

Eddie chuckles which turns into a groan as he hunches slightly from the pain, “It never fails to make my day when you refer to the trailer as home.”

“You and Wayne are home, no matter where it is.” And before he can process any of what was just said Steve is cupping Eddie’s cheek in his hand and pressing a kiss to his bloody lips.

A noise causes them to spring apart, Steve throwing himself in front of Eddie looking half feral. It takes Keith entirely too long to realize that the noise was the rest of his pack of red vines falling from his numb fingers and hitting the concrete. As soon as their eyes meet Keith feels a chill run down his spine. There’s so much fear there, on both of their faces, Steve in front of Eddie arms spread to protect him and Eddie’s fingers twisting in the back of Steve’s jacket.

“Steve, Steve let’s go. Now!” Eddie tugs Steve back a step or two before both of them turn and flee into the woods. They left the bat behind in their retreat and after a minute's debate he walks over and picks it up. He knows Steve is scheduled to be on shift with him tomorrow.

He’s at the counter, flipping through a magazine and chewing gum when Steve walks in. Eddie’s van is still idling in the parking lot, with Nancy Wheeler in the passenger seat. Keith accidentally swallows the wad of gum when he realizes that she’s cleaning a shotgun and staring him down. Steve looks skittish, eyes darting around like he’s expecting another mob to appear and murder him.

“There’s a handful of returns in the bin and we got a new shipment of movies that need stickers and a place on the shelves.” He informs the brunette going back to his magazine.

“Okay.” He offers but makes no move to do either of those tasks.

“You’re going to be late if you don’t clock in and I’m not fixing it.” He flips another page and reaches under the counter to dig out more gum from the junk drawer. He watches Steve prepare to dive as he does, Christ is Harrington expecting him to pull a gun or something?

It’s only when Steve shifts and he’s abruptly reminded of the scar around Steve’s neck that he realizes that is exactly what Steve thinks. And yeah he’s not the most pleasant person he can admit that but he’s never had someone think he’s so awful that they think him capable of shooting a gun and killing them before. Okay so pretending nothing happened and all of last night was a wild hallucination or a mistake is officially off the table now.

“Your bat is in the backroom by the way.” Keith offers as Steve skirts around the counter to grab the returns, he notices that Steve is very carefully staying out of Keith’s reach.

“Umm, thanks?” He says as he stays towards the edge of the store, uses the shelf racks as a shield in case Keith tries to throw something at him.

Keith looks towards the front of the store again, the van and its occupants are still there.

“If those jo- assholes try to go to the police… I saw them corner and grab Munson. It was self defense, you going after them.” That finally gets Steve to look at him, still wary but it’s hopefully being seen as the peace offering it is.

“I’ll let Eds- Munson know.”

Fuck, he’s not made for niceties and tact. Ugh why is this so hard?!

“Look man, I don’t get it but I’m not going to rat you and Munson out. Things are already shitty enough here without another mob okay? I didn’t agree with the last one already.”

Steve studies him for a moment before turning to the window and making a gesture towards the van. Eddie and Nancy nod and finally drive away. Keith gets the feeling that he’s going to see every one of the dork patrol members at some point today, all of them checking to make sure he hasn’t murdered Steve and dumped his body out back. That lot was like a feral pack of wolves at this point.

“Thank you Keith.” Steve finally offers as he steps behind the desk to grab the inventory clipboard.

“Just, never ever let me see you and Munson in the backroom together.”

“Christ what do you take us for?” Steve gives a small chuckle that dissipates the last of the tension. After a moment of contemplation the brunette offers, “Would you want to join us for movie night? The whole-”

“We’re not there yet.” Keith cuts him off firmly but not meanly, he is so not joining Harrington’s pack of misfits. Steve just smiles and shrugs in response.

“Fair enough” He says as he heads to the backroom to deal with the delivery.

*hands Keith the 'not as much of an asshole as your could have been' award* Thank you for sticking with me and reading this story

[munsonmuses]

Hateful Recollection

Themes: angst, arguing, resentful minds and eventual comfort, labors of love.

Warnings: cursing, drug usage, there’s a slap here and there, Eddie is kind of an asshole but it’s a bit deserved?

Word Count: 4.3k

Part Two

Edward James Munson and yourself had always been a bit…combative, if that’s the right way to put it. Fighting over the space in the woods, the hallways, study spaces, hell even parking spots in the cramped Hawkins High School parking lot. You’d despised each other since freshman year, and with a few mishaps in life, you too were repeating senior year for a second time. It wasn’t often two massive tragedies hit, but that was the case for you. In ‘84 there was the fatal car accident that took your darling father. A staple in the sleepy community, and in ‘85, the strange death of your cousin Heather Holloway leaving your life in a whirlwind. School was the last thing on your mind in the wake of such terrible loss, so the district had understood you pulling out of school for the time being.

Sat at the cramped lunch table, you pushed around the lasagna on your acrylic tray, graying meat and rubbery noodles making your stomach turn as you let your fork drop. Deciding to rejoin the conversation amongst your friends as you tried to catch up to speed with all of the gossip and mindless conversation.

“I just…don’t understand who died and made her queen of fucking the school newspaper, I don’t. I have a great spread on the lunchroom epidemic, how they’re feeding us what is essentially tubed meat. My daddy’s tax dollars aren’t meant to be feeding us mush on a plate.” Libby bitched as you hummed in indifference, though the lasagna presented to you today did sway your internal argument a bit, and Nancy Wheeler did hold the school newspaper with the clutch of a feral dog. Rhiannon shaking her head at Libby’s incessant rage. “I think it’s fine, it’s nice to have something to eat, or at least snack on…” she reasoned as Libby scoffed. “Yeah but you eat like a goddamn hippie. You don’t have to eat the meat or anything…” “my veganism has nothing to do with this argument, you’re killing the rooms energy.” “Well your veganism is killing my appetite.” The two squabbled as you laughed. The two having been your dearest friends since meeting at Camp Love in 1978. Sticking by you through every strange mishap, with the typical teen argument here and there.

You went to add to the conversation before squealing in shocked upset as a carton of icy chocolate milk fell down your back. Soaking through the chartreuse wool of your sweater as you whipped around to face who it was, a very startled set of brown eyes staring back at you. Eddie Munson’s mouth hung agape in shock, knowing how this looked. Having been shoved by Jason Carver and his milk subsequently teetered off his tray, leading to your current predicament as you pushed to stand.

“Edward Munson you did that on purpose!” You accused with a finger to his chest, your nail dimpling his shirt and flesh as he stared down at you. Lips pulling back in a sneer as he smacked your hand away. “It was not, but, honestly? I’m kind of a bit glad it did hit you. Maybe the cold down your back will quell the hellfire inside you, you succubus.” He hissed back as you glared, shoving him harshly. “You’re a complete freak! I bet you hoped my shirt would be see through or something. Satanic and perverted,” you hissed as you gathered your bag, getting ready to leave while Libby and Rhiannon worked on doing the same. Before catching the distasteful muttering of Eddie Munson.

“Just because you’ve got a couple of dead relatives doesn’t mean you get to be a frigid cunt,”

You didn’t realize how fast you moved, whipping around as you slapped him. It wasn’t intentional, or even thought out. Completely unsure of what was going on till you heard the slam of cheek to palm, and watched his head reel back. A hush falling across the lunchroom. Hot embarrassment crept up your neck and cheeks, hot tears stinging your eyes as you took a watery breath. “That was fucking mean…even for you,” you whispered before shoving past him, Rhiannon chasing as Libby followed, stopping partway to look back at Eddie. “That was a low blow Munson…” she whispered, leaving him flapping his mouth open and shut. Nothing worth while actually coming out.

You made your way to your locker, throwing the door open as the door rattled, shoving in your books and grabbing your purse. Decidedly, you were near tears and it didn’t feel like you had the patience to sit through the logistics of adverbs and their proper insertion into the English language. Rhiannon gently placing her hand on you shoulder. “Honey he didn’t mean that…” she tried to comfort as you scoffed lightly. “Doesn’t matter if he meant it, it’s the fact that he said it…I’m going home, can you take Marilyn home today?” You questioned about your younger sister as she nodded gently, wishing you goodbye as you headed down the silent halls. Pushing through the doors and climbing into your little hatchback. Looking over at the banged up van parked beside you as you scoffed angrily. Peeling out of the parking lot and heading home for the day. Your grades were fine, and nobody would notice.

Your small home was a welcome sight, your driveway empty. Your mother working long nights as a nurse to keep you, your sister, and herself afloat. She was never home, delegating most of the housework to you as you keyed in and trotted upstairs. Tossing your bag aside and falling into your plush bed. Pulling your fading carebear into your chest as tears finally allowed themselves to fall, crying the day away as a nap took hold of you.

It was around four in the afternoon when you were roused from your self pitying nap. Opening your eyes to the sweet face of your younger sister. She’d shed so much of her baby fat in the face, blossoming into a beautiful young woman. Yawning lightly as you sat up, stretching out as you gently rubbed her cheek. “Hi Lynnie, was school okay?” You asked gently, voice croaking with exhaustion as she nodded slowly. Holding a little Lisa Frank folder out to you as she swallowed nervously. “I got your…your school work, and um…momma called. She’ll be home late again.” She whispered nervously, breaking your heart. She’d been so much more…involved, when everything was normal, but after your father passing when she was twelve, alongside the irregular life she led with an always working mom, struggling grades, having a childish air about her, and being the smallest and meekest girl in her grade, she seemed to be afraid to take up space.

“That’s okay, we can have a great night just the two of us…” you offered as you pulled her to lie down with you, rousing a gentle giggle from the girl as she turned her head to face you. “I’ll take us to family video and we can rent a movie, and we can get a pizza, and I’ll even let you put mushrooms on it~” you cooed as you poked her sides, earning a string of laughter from her as she chewed on her lower lip. “Can we get the last unicorn please…?” She asked nervously, and you slowly nodded. You couldn’t say no to her, remembering how she’d adored the movie with your father. How she’d named her pet hamsters Amalthea and Schmendrick, and mourned them when they’d passed. “Whatever you want Lynnie…lemme change okay?” You reasoned as she nodded eagerly, getting up to let you change. You were determined to make it a good night.

It was a quick ride to family video, making it in record time. Having donned a purple sweatshirt with embroidered lilies on the front, and made sure Marilyn was ready to go. Parking carefully as you walked in, holding the door as Marilyn raced to the children’s section. Leaving you to mingle with Steve Harrington at the counter as he grinned lightly at you. “Hey there, haven’t seen you here in a while…” he greeted as you rolled your eyes. “Moneys been a bit tight, so I’m sorry I haven’t been here to grace you with my presence…” you mocked as he laughed. “You know I won’t charge you…so what’s the real reason?” He pried as you laughed lightly. “You got me there…I just haven’t had the time.” You explained as he nodded in understanding. He’d been a longtime friend, and had been coming by with premade casseroles after both funerals, mostly urged by his mother, but that’s didn’t dampen the sentiment. You valued Steve, and understood that he knew what it was like to feel like you had no support system.

You’d realized it was taking a while for Marilyn to come back as you excused yourself, walking the aisles to find your sister. Seeing her mop of red curls, stopping at the sight of the metal head helping her reach the VHS on the top shelf. Furrowing your brows as you eaves dropped. “Great choice, Annie…” he quipped at her as she meekly thanked him, earning a light laugh from him. “I loved this movie when it came out, but between you and me I was scared of the harpy…” he said in a loud whisper as she laughed. “That’s dumb…” she mumbled as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, it is huh?” The interaction strangely made your blood boil, walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder as Eddie frowned lightly. His face still a bit red from the altercation earlier that day.

“What’re you here for Munson, some sort of freakish torture porn?” You gestured towards the case in his hand as he scoffed. “Actually it’s return of the living dead and American werewolf in London.” He retorted as you scoffed. “Not much of a difference,” you quipped before pushing past him, catching Marilyn waving him bye out of the corner of your eye as you went to the counter. Wishing Steve a great day and leaving without another word.

A few hours later you were back home, getting your pizzas on a plate as you heard Marilyn setting up in the living room. The intro song playing as she hummed along, earning an intentionally obnoxious rendition from you as she laughed loudly. Getting onto the couch as you gave her the plate with greasy slices, sitting through the movie with only a few questions and a full belly by the end. Sending your sister to shower and work on homework as you retired to your room. Getting changed for the night and sitting at your desk, working on your biology homework well into the night, soothed by the rain pattering against your window. Not realizing how much time had passed before hearing a soft knock on the doorframe. Turning to face your sister. “You heading to bed honey?” You asked as she nodded carefully, wringing out her fingers as you turned fully around. “What’s up sugar…?” You asked as she teetered on both feet. “Why are you so mean to Eddie?” She asked as you frowned lightly. “What do you mean Marilyn…?” You pried as she whimpered, as if whatever she said next might cause some terrible Rube Goldberg chain of devastation to occur. “I don’t…get why you’re so mean to him…you guys used to be best friends,” she whispered as you sighed. “Go to bed Marilyn…I love you.” You mumbled as she muttered it back and left. That was enough to draw any energy you had left. Climbing into bed as her words replayed in your head.

The next day seemed to be easier, getting to school early, and blazing through your first four periods. A few grades coming back to you as you tucked the papers into your folder, bold ‘A’s and B’s’ smattered across the upper corners as you grinned. Now heading to the woods behind the football field with Libby and Rhiannon, choosing to forego the meatloaf that the cafeteria was serving.

“You can’t even call that meatloaf, you can call it meatloaf? Like with a question mark at the end, because you can’t even confirm it’s real meat,” Libby complained as her Chuck Taylor’s trudged through the leaves, the soft earth gently squishing beneath your soles as you sighed. Her tangents about school lunch were strange, especially considering she didn’t eat school lunch. Rhiannon scoffing lightly as she followed, rooting through her messenger bag and pulling out her altoid tin as she snapped her gum carefully. “Well some people could say the same thing about you eating sushi Lib,” she argued, earning a defending argument from Libby as you got seated at the rickety picnic table. Rhiannon opening the tin to pull out a hastily rolled joint. Lighting it carefully and passing it around the table as you took a decent puff. Coughing and sputtering as you laughed nervously. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” You giggled out through coughs as Libby snatched the joint eagerly. It continued passing around till you heard the crunch of leaves and rapidly worked on disposing of the evidence, eyes wide before relaxing harshly at the sight of Eddie Munson with lunchpail and corroded coffin in hand as you scoffed loudly.

“You need to leave. This is my turf. So move.” He ordered harshly as his little band of misfits tried to protest with ‘Eddie lets just go to the van’ or ‘Eddie calms on man’ as you turned around quietly and hummed. “Hi Gareth, hi Grant, hi Jeff,” you greet gently as they waved back gently. Humming contentedly before your eyes shifted back to a fuming Eddie Munson. His fingers flexing and face screwed up in contempt. “Get the fuck out of here, I swear to god you do it just to irk me.” He snapped as you guffawed at his confidence. “Typical of you to think my life revolves around you.” You retorted, an argument beginning to kick up as your insults were hurled at one another.

“No! No you think you can get away with anything because of your tragedy! Poor me! Oh poor baby! Everyone let me off easy and pity me, because I feed off of your attention! Like the succubus that you are,” Eddie hissed as you felt your hands clenching the denim of your jeans. Shuddering angrily as you spat back venom.

“It’s not my fault people were there for me when my parent died, not you.” You hissed, the realization of what you’d said dawning on you as his face fell. “Fuck, Eddie I’m sorry-“ you started as he shoved you back, feeling the leaves crunch into your back as he seemed to tremble, near tears. “That was way fucking meaner than it needed to be.” His voice was watery as you frowned, knowing his cruel of you it was to mention the passing of his mother. “Fuck you.” He whispered as he turned heel and walked off, followed off by his friends. Your own staring at you nervously.

“You guys know I didn’t mean that…right?” You questioned as they looked between each other, silently deciding who should be the one to answer you, Rhiannon sighing as she went to help you stand. “Honey, just because you didn’t mean it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. You were so angry at Eddie yesterday for saying something he didn’t mean…and you slapped him. I think you’re both in the wrong to be truthful,” she insisted as you muttered excuses under your breath, earning a look from Libby as you frowned gently. “Fine, okay, I’m an asshole!” You insisted angrily as you puttered loudly. Carefully gathering up your things and heading back towards the school. You’d have to make the rest of the day go by as smoothly as possible.

English was fine, and biology was wonderfully easy, until you were delegated into pairs for whatever in class research you had for a pairs project. Drawing popsicle sticks with numbers on the end, as the class went one by one listing their numbers, soon enough getting to you as you sighed. “I have eight.” You spoke, being spoken over by Eddie Munson who glared. Going to argue to change partners as Mr. Birmingham tutted loudly. “I don’t care about whatever squabble you have outside of my class, I’m here? I’m the ruling force. You and Munson are going to have to get along.” He insisted as he sent the two of you to one of the tall lab tables in the back. Sitting with a huff as Eddie sat as far as he could from you. Flipping open his textbook haphazardly as he glared lightly. Earning a scoff from you as you reached over and pulled it to the middle of the table so he tried to yank it back. Hushed insults going back and forth before he finally relented.

“I don’t fucking understand why you’re acting like this-“ Eddie snapped as he glared at you bitterly. “Why you’re so angry and mean all the time.” He quipped as you scoffed at him. “You should know why.” Was all you responded as his brows furrowed, not knowing how to respond to you as he carefully got back to work. The two of you remaining…civil, throughout the rest of the period.

The bell rang, freeing you of your hell as you headed into the hallway, meeting with Libby who was flirting with school hippie, and Eddie’s rival dealer, Kingston Richard. Watching as he handed her a crinkled paper, inviting Libby and Co. to a party he was attending tonight. Libby giggling and offering a “yeah~” as he walked off. Humming over at you as you quirked a brow. “I can’t go to a party Libby, gotta take care of Marilyn…” you insisted as she whined loudly. “No you don’t, she’s going to a friends house for a sleepover. I ran into her in the hallway, told me to give you this.” She handed you a little note with a home number and address. Sighing lightly as you agreed carefully. “I’ll go, I’ll go and it’ll be boring and then I’ll have to drive your sloppy ass home~” you teased as Rhiannon joined you both. Hearing about the party as she agreed eagerly. Setting your unsure plans into stone.

You frowned deeply as you had your hair teased to the high heavens, setting the look with some pearly eyeshadow and letting your shirt be cropped choppily. Rolling your eyes as you tested out two sets of earrings for yourself to wear. Deciding on some thick acrylic hoops to match your bangles and rings. Snapping your gum carefully. “So we’re doing this whole party thing on the like tree line by lovers lake? What if someone calls the cops?” You mumbled, remembering that there were a multitude of residents that lived by the water. Earning a ‘pshaw’ from Libby as you frowned. Slipping on your keds and tucking your ID and cash into your bra. Heading out to your car as your friends followed. Taking the scenic route out to lovers lake as you hummed along to Pat Benatar on the radio, recollecting your joint past.

“Do you guys remember meeting at Camp Love? It was on the lake and we camped in the woods…and we got poison ivy?” You laughed out as Rhiannon laughed lightly to herself in agreement. “I remember sneaking out to go night swimming, then the guys convinced us that there were like…snakes.” She giggled out as you rolled your eyes. “I just remember having fun…and I remember being cold because I didn’t have enough blankets, feeling mad I hadn’t packed enough.” You whispered as Libby hummed. “I remember you cried, and you asked around for a blanket…Eddie Munson stayed with you and gave you his,” she said softly as you gulped harshly. “Yeah. That’s when he was twelve and still had a heart.” You retort as you pulled down the dirt road as your friends exchanged looks. Knowing it was a memory you tried to act like didn’t happen or matter. Parking your car and stepping out to a bonfire inside of an old oil drum, clearly having fun as you went to the keg. Filling yourself a solo cup with lukewarm beer and sipping at it, gagging lightly and going to take a seat on one of the many scattered blankets, lying back on the flannel as you hummed along to the music. Listening to the party ambiance as you let your friends wander a bit, having plenty of fun before feeling the blanket dip beside you as you turned beside you. Looking at Kingston who was smoking what was left of a cigarette. “Hey there…” he pushed his sunglasses down and gave you a lopsided grin as you hummed. “Hey yourself…” you crooned as he handed you another cup with lukewarm beer. Humming up at him as you carefully finished up the second cup of piss poor beer, that seemed to be making you sway a bit, the fact that you were a lightweight combining with the lack of lunch from earlier.

“So uh, you come to parties often?” Kingston asked as you drummed your fingers on the ground. “Not really, gotta take care of my sister, but I do love it when I have the opportunity to come.” You said softly as you felt him leaning closer, catching his drift as you put a hand up. “Um, I’m sorry but uh…if you’re trying to like, flirt or something? I’m not the right person to do it with.” You insisted as you looked over at Libby who was doing a terrible job of acting nonchalant whilst watching the two of you. “Libby really really likes you, and I don’t wanna…do that to her.” You explained as Kingston grinned in understanding. “Oh believe me, I’m aware…I’m just as into her, I just had a theory I had to test out.” He insisted as he looked past you. Turning your head to see a frustrated Eddie watching the two of you, blushing and looking away as you’d caught him gawking apparently. Laughing nervously to yourself as Kingston pulled a joint from behind his ear, handing it to you as he smiled. “For your trouble…” he got up shakily, walking off as you grinned. Lighting your joint as you caught yourself glancing back at Eddie who was rolling with laughter with his friends, the firelight casting shadows along his face as you grinned lightly to yourself. The beer softening your hate filled heart as you relaxed once more. Humming along to Seal before hearing the distant sound of sirens, eyes going wide as you sat up. Hearing distant tires treading on the dirt road as you shakily stood, making a run for it as you hissed a string of curses under your breath. The mixture of fear, the dark, the cool chill of the fall, and your inebriation getting you turned around before someone took your hand, sprinting to the center of the woods and pushing you to climb an old oak tree with well worn wooden steps up, nailed to the sides. Easing you up into the center as you gained your bearings. Hitting the blanketed center as you panted softly and looked around. Strangely familiar…and then it hit you. This was where Camp Love had been, where you’d spent nights with a young Eddie who had a boyish face and a sweet crush on you. Turning to look at who pushed you, Eddie’s big brown eyes reflecting the moonlight as you stared at him.

“What are you-“ he lurched forward to cover your mouth as he put a finger to his lips. The sound of the police pattering by underneath. His chest to yours as you heaved gently. Slowly reaching up to take hold of his wrist and remove his clammy hand once it quieted down. “I…thank you Eddie.” You insisted as he just nodded softly. “Whatever…don’t mention it.” He muttered as you gently bumped his shoulder and sighed.

“This is weird, familiar…” he insisted softly as he frowned to himself. “I remember bringing you up here…I remember your braces cutting my lip.” He said with a soft laugh as you hummed lightly. “I remember we were close…” he added, though this had no jog behind it. “Why uh…why is that?” He questioned softly. And in that moment you realized he never knew why you hated him, why you resented every bit of him.

“You were my best friend Eddie…but…when my dad died you weren’t there for me…too busy with fucking hellfire.” You muttered as you looked at your feet. “You only cared about yourself and your interests, you were suddenly too cool for girls, or anything.” You insisted as you wiped your bleary eyes. “I called and went by and I did everything and you didn’t care,” you mumbled as he frowned lightly.

“I did what I thought was right.” He answered softly. “When my ma died I wanted to be alone, I wanted to understand in my own time, I didn’t want answers…I just needed time. I just thought you’d want the same. Which was shitty. I shouldn’t assume, I should have asked,” he insisted lightly. His hand inching over to yours as he linked pinkies with you. “I still care about you…you’re my best girl,” he whispered as he nosed gently against your cheek, earning a sigh from you.

“I care about you too…and I miss you,” you felt tears threatening to spill. “It’s been hard…I miss you coming by, and my mom and Lynnie ask about you all the damn time-“ the tears flowed freely now. “Eddie I needed you…and you weren’t there-“ your voice broke, and the heartbreak washed over him all at once. Pulling you to his chest as you sobbed softly. Petting your hair back as he frowned.

“I’m here now…I promise I’m here now.” He whispered, and you only held tighter, because you could feel that he meant it,

Tags: @munson-blurbs

[lunastrophe]

Drow Lore 🕷️ Sacrifices and Adjuration To Lolth

One of the central credo of Lolthite faith is: "We are all Lolth's meat". In many sources, Lolth is described as the goddess who consumes or devours, and rites conducted in her name practically always involve some kind of sacrifice.

🕷️ Typical Sacrifices - in minor, personal rites the sacrifice is usually poured wine, small amount of riches or a few drops of petitioner's blood offered before and idol or symbol of Lolth. In major rites, one or several individuals - usually captives or slaves - are ritually killed within a temple to feed the Spider Queen with their spilled blood.

🕷️ Sacrifice Preferences - non-sentient creatures < sentient creatures, non-humanoids < humanoids < elves < drow. Typically, Lolth prefers more powerful sacrifices to weaker ones, and her own priestesses over all others (this last type of sacrifice occurs only rarely, though, and usually as a punishment).

🕷️ Adjuration from the Crimson Liturgy of Lolth (found in Dragon Magazine #298), spoken during the rite of sacrifice:

O Flesh Carver, who wove the world; Who made us from the darkest clay, Spinning in it a red web of vein and artery, We feel thy hunger. O Lolth, humbly today we feed thee. We feed you this flesh, this quivering meat. With a blade like your jaws, We divide muscle from bone. Eat of this, the meal we consecrate to thee, And do not this day devour us.

🕷️ Lolth's name that appears in this adjuration - Flesh Carver - is mentioned in BG3 at least once. One of the petrified drow in the Underdark, Izwae, thanks a Lolth-sworn drow Tav for freeing him, saying:

Fleshcarver grant you your enemies' blood and the wealth of their houses.

I really like this quote 🖤

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

[bigdumbbambieyes]

nsfw munver for @shieldofiron, @hellfirefucker, and @wrecked-fuse!!

Eddie's never believed in God, but he just might start because how else would he explain the angel in his bed?

An angel from Hell, maybe, because Jason's in nothing but his white jockstrap and Hawkins Tigers letterman jacket, looking so deliciously embarrassed as he props himself up in Eddie's bed like a gift.

A choked sound, maybe a laugh or moan or both, leaves Eddie's mouth as he stands in his doorway and takes in the gorgeous sight, loving how the pink of Jason's cheeks darken and darken until he's cherry red down his throat and to his chest, the tips of his ears burning just as hot.

And judging by the state of that jockstrap, he's not just ashamed - he's hard from it.

Carver's always been a freak like that, getting off on shit he shouldn't, and it's perfect because Eddie's always there, ready to further that shame and humiliation with some carefully placed words.

A grin slowly growing on his face, he steps into the room, closer to the bed, and hums in approval, "Look at you..."

It's nothing, it's barely fucking anything, but Jason shifts back from him and swallows thickly, his blue eyes so bright against the ruddiness of his cheeks as he asks quietly, "Do...do you like it?"

"Do I like it?" Eddie echoes the timid question with disbelief, standing at the edge of the bed as he takes in the firm muscles of Jason's thighs, the tightness of his stomach, all so hidden but on show just for him. His voice dipping, lower, he orders, "Turn around."

And Jason's staring up at him silently, his eyes flickering across Eddie's face, like he's searching for something.

"If you're waiting for me to laugh at you, you're gonna be waiting a long time, angel." Eddie murmurs, serious, so Jason will understand.

His jaw clenching, Jason wordlessly turns around as Eddie's eyes feast on the new sight: Jason's ass, cupped by the straps, smooth and firm.

It makes his mouth water.

"On your elbows," he orders, watching how Jason falls forward slowly, lowering himself onto his elbows just like Eddie's ordered, and fuck.

Sliding a knee onto the bed and climbing on, Eddie shuffles closer, his hands grabbing the supple flesh of Jason's ass, squeezing and pulling them apart, just so he can get a better look at the wet slick of lube glistening there.

Jason's prepped himself.

"Jesus Christ, you're fucking killing me," Eddie groans softly, inching a hand closer to smooth the pad of his thumb across the puckered skin, listening to the soft sounds Jason makes as he plays with him, pressing the pad of his thumb in and in and in before pulling out, not breaching.

Just teasing, like Jason's done to him.

"You want me to fuck you here, sweetheart?" Eddie hums, pressing his thumb again.

Jason mumbles something he can't hear.

Eddie stops, quirking a brow, "What was that?"

Something like 'yes please' is mumbled into his blanket, where Jason's buried his burning face.

"Gotta use your words like a big boy if you want something," he taunts, pulling his thumb away to instead swipe his forefinger down Jason's taint, pressing at the smooth skin there with a grin as the blond whines a louder, "Please."

"Poor dumb little slut," Eddie pouts mockingly down at Jason's back, "Can't even use his words right, he's so desperate for it." He slides his fingers under the white straps cupping Jason's ass, pulls them away from his body with a smirk, watching how his pretty thing tenses in anticipation.

Eddie holds the straps out like that, waiting.

He's patient.

Unlike Jason, who's squirming and sweating already.

Eddie wants to eat him alive.

In a quiet voice, shaking from shame and desire, Jason whispers, "Please...please fuck me."

There it is.

Eddie snaps the straps back into place with a mean chuckle and hums, "Good boy."