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idkyetxoxo · 22 days

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Daemon Targaryen - Him and I

Summary - Bound by a passion that thrives on violence and chaos, they eliminate anyone who dares to cross them. Their love becomes both their greatest strength and their most dangerous weapon, a perfect match in their shared madness.

Pairing - Daemon Targaryen x Arryn reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), violence (mentions)

Word count - 2044

Masterlist for Daemon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

He's out his head, I'm out my mind we got that love, the crazy kind.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon declared, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.

The expression settled on his face as he rested his hands on the hilt of his sword, slick with blood, which seemed to meld with his hand as though it were an extension of his very being, a dark instrument of his will.

The man's life had drained away at his feet, but Daemon seemed untroubled, as if violence was as natural to him as breathing. A crimson pool spread slowly beneath his boots, the thick blood glistening under the flickering torchlight like a river of molten rubies, each drop a silent witness to the carnage.

I flinched, a fleeting reaction to the brutality that had just unfolded before me but then, a slow smile crept across my lips. My gaze found Daemon's, his eyes already locked onto mine.

There was no need for words between us. We understood each other in ways that transcended language, our bond forged in the crucible of blood and sharpened by the steel we wielded.

I licked my lips, savouring the metallic tang of blood, his blood. The fool had dared to speak ill of me, and now his life was nothing more than a bitter taste on my tongue, a reminder of the sweet vengeance.

I raised my thumb to wipe away a crimson smear, aware that the rest of my face was likely speckled with droplets, but I found I couldn't care less.

This was the price of our love, a love that thrived in the shadows of violence, a love as dangerous as it was intoxicating.

The King had decreed that anyone who questioned me, the sister of his late wife, regarding the mysterious death of one of Alicent's ladies-in-waiting would lose their tongue. Daemon, ever the enforcer of our twisted justice, decided that wasn't enough.

He wanted blood, and he had taken it without hesitation.

"Your Grace," Otto Hightower's voice cut through the tension, thick with anger as he turned to face the King.

The man's indignation was palpable, his eyes flickering between the lifeless body on the floor and the King who had allowed this to happen but even Otto, with all his political manoeuvring and cold calculation, knew better than to challenge Daemon directly.

Not when the bond between us was so absolute, so terrifyingly complete.

He saw the madness in our eyes, a madness that could not be swayed by reason or threats, and I could sense his hesitation, a fear born not of cowardice, but of knowing he was outmatched by a love that defied logic and thrived on chaos.

Daemon kills for me, I kill for him. We're both out of our minds, lost in a love so consuming it leaves no room for fear, no space for mercy.

We've got the kind of love people whisper about in dark corners, the kind that burns too brightly, too fiercely, and leaves only ashes in its wake.

"This matter cannot be ignored," Otto declared, his voice edged with disgust as he turned his gaze toward me. His eyes bore into mine, seething with contempt, but I simply bit my lip to keep from laughing.

He was so predictable in his self-righteous indignation, so easy to provoke.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys snapped, his frustration bleeding through every word.

The burden of the crown weighed heavily on him, and Otto's relentless prying was the last thing he wanted to deal with.

"It is common knowledge that Prince Daemon's wife was present when the body of Lady Elia was discovered," Otto pressed on, his tone growing more insistent. "Merely a day after the lady had slandered Prince Daemon's name."

Viserys ran a weary hand over his face, his patience thinning, frayed by the constant tension between loyalty and fear, between the brother he loved and the monster that Daemon had become.

I clenched my teeth to keep from lashing out. The accusations were nothing new, just more whispers and rumours in a court that thrived on such poison.

"Prince Daemon's wife has a name," I spat, crossing my arms over my chest.

Otto turned to me, throwing his hands up in exasperation, clearly irked that this was the only part of his condemnation I had chosen to acknowledge.

"There is no proof that my sister-in-law killed Lady Elia. These are merely rumours," Viserys said, his voice calm but resolute as he met my gaze. I offered him a small, knowing smile, and he continued, "She would do no such thing."

"You say this only because she is your late wife's sister," Otto retorted, his voice sharp with accusation.

"Precisely," Viserys replied, his tone softening as he spoke of my sister. "Aemma would never have let it get this far... my Aemma."

Otto turned back to me, his eyes narrowing in disdain, but this time I didn't hold back. I allowed a proud smirk to spread across my face, mouthing a single word "Oops." His jaw clenched in response, but he had nothing left to say.

"Your Grace, I do not wish to continue this conversation," I said, feigning an upset tone as I glanced at Viserys with wide, innocent eyes.

"Of course, my dear," he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. His affection for me, the last living reminder of his beloved Aemma, was a powerful shield against Otto's accusations.

"There will be no further discussions regarding Lady Elia's death," Viserys declared, his voice carrying a finality that brooked no argument. His gaze shifted to the lifeless body at Daemon's feet, the head severed cleanly from the shoulders. "Let Lord Tarly be an example."

With those words, the matter was settled. Daemon, with a flicker of something dark and satisfied in his eyes, turned to me.

Without a word, he took my hand, pulling me from the throne room and through the winding corridors of the Keep. His grip was firm, and possessive, as if he needed to feel my presence.

We moved in silence until we reached our chambers. The door closed with a solid thud, sealing us in our private world, away from the prying eyes and judgmental stares of others.

The moment the latch clicked, Daemon pulled me to him, our bodies colliding with a desperate intensity. My chest pressed against his, the heat of his skin seeping through his clothes as he held me close.

"The blood of my enemies looks absolutely beautiful on you," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His thumb brushed across my bottom lip, smearing a trace of dried blood.

The touch was possessive, reverent as if he were admiring a work of art.

"Your enemies?" I asked, tilting my head slightly, a teasing smile playing on my lips.

"Any man who speaks ill of my wife is my enemy," he replied, his tone firm and unwavering. His fingers threaded through my hair, pulling gently as he rested his hand on the nape of my neck, holding me in place.

"That's exactly what I like to hear," I whispered, my fingers slipping beneath his tunic, desperate to feel the heat of his skin.

I began tracing the contours of his muscles with a feather-light touch. Feeling him shudder beneath my fingertips, the tension in his body turning to something darker, more primal.

In truth, those words were my lifeline, the assurance that no matter how deep we descended into darkness, he would always be there with me.

"Lady Elia?" he questioned, his voice a low rumble. There was no fear in his eyes, only a dark curiosity.

I smirked, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. Rising onto my tiptoes, I leaned in close to his ear, my breath hot against his skin.

"She insinuated that you were aggressive and unpredictable," I whispered, biting gently on his earlobe before pulling back to my given height. "I don't like it when people talk ill of my husband, so I killed her."

The admission hung in the air between us, heavy with the weight of our shared madness. Daemon's eyes darkened, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

Without another word, he crushed his lips against mine in a kiss that was hungry, fierce, and unyielding. It wasn't a kiss of tenderness but one of raw passion, a fire that consumed us both.

We stumbled backwards, our bodies entwined as we lost ourselves in the moment, in the shared understanding that we were unstoppable together.

"Tell me what you want, darling," I murmured against his lips, already knowing the answer but craving the sound of his voice.

His hands were impatient, already tugging at the fabric between us, desperate to feel skin against skin.

"You," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. His lips moved to my neck, trailing sloppy, heated kisses down my body, each one sending shivers of anticipation through me.

"Then have me," I whispered, my fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as I surrendered to the inevitable. "Take me."

His hands parted my legs, spreading them wide as he positioned himself. When he began to push inside me, the sudden intrusion made me gasp, my body reacting instinctively. My walls clenched around him, drawing him deeper, as that familiar, aching need built in my core.

He moved with a rhythm that was both demanding and intoxicating, each thrust driving me closer to the edge. I arched against him, meeting his movements with my own, our hips colliding in a primal dance that spoke of love, possession, and the insatiable hunger we had for one another.

"Yes, just like that," I murmured, my voice breathy with pleasure as he adjusted his angle, the tip of his length grazing a spot deep within me that made my entire body shudder.

His eyes locked onto mine, dark and intense.

"You feel so perfect," he growled, his voice thick with the kind of desire that bordered on obsession. "I could stay buried inside you forever."

It wasn't just lust, it was a desperate need, a hunger that could only be sated by knowing that in this moment, I was his and his alone.

A shiver ran through me at his words, my heart pounding in sync with the fierce rhythm of our bodies.

"Then don't stop," I breathed, my nails raking across his back, leaving red marks in their wake. "I need you, all of you."

Each movement was precise, as though he were playing me like an instrument, drawing out the sweetest music with every thrust, every deep connection between us.

"You have all of me," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of prolonging the pleasure for both of us. "I'm yours, always."

I could feel the climax building, an unstoppable wave that threatened to crash over me, to pull me under and drown me in its depths. My grip on him tightened, nails biting into his flesh as I rode the edge of oblivion, his name spilling from my lips in a fervent chant.

"Let go," he urged, his voice rough, his breath hot against my ear. "Let me feel you come apart for me."

His words were my undoing. With one final, deep thrust, he pushed me over the brink, and I shattered. Pleasure exploded within me, a white-hot blaze that consumed every inch of my being.

My body convulsed around him, my voice breaking into a cry of ecstasy as the world shattered into a million dazzling pieces. He followed me into that abyss, his own release crashing over him as he buried himself deep inside me, our bodies locked together in the throes of passion.

As the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed, we clung to each other, our breaths mingling, hearts pounding in unison. He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, a contrast to the wild passion that had consumed us just moments before.

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice a vow in the quiet aftermath.

"And you're mine," I replied, my voice full of contentment as I nestled closer to him, our bodies still intimately connected.

In that moment, we knew that this was where we belonged—in each other's arms, bound by a love that was as dangerous as it was beautiful.

I am his, and he is mine. In the end, it's him and I.

A/n - Is somebody gonna match my freak (listen to Him and I by Halsey and G-eazy)

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team black #daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd daemon #prince daemon targaryen #the rouge prince #daemon targeryan

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mustainegf · 3 days

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This is a crazy sad idea I had the other night

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ¹⁹⁸⁷

I wake up to the pitter of rain against the windows. The air was dead, with the smell of old wood and the remains of cigarette smoke from the night before. The house held its breath. Lying there, in sheets that smell of memories, the leather and aftershave smell with the damp air and cleaving to everything in this room. His room.

James has left his space this way ever since, the mess of records that he insists have some sort of order, utter chaos to anyone else. Guitars leaned against the wall, scattered papers on the desk. Hard to tell, really. A few half empty beer bottles remained on the nightstand, one of them with the label peeling off where his fingers had unconsciously picked at it.

I sit up and blink away fogginess in my head. My body is heavy, I'm trying to move underwater. Really, I don't want to get up. I want to be wrapped in the warmth of this room, in the memories that lean against me from every corner. But I know I cannot stay here forever. The guys will be up soon, and we'll all gather in the kitchen, making laugh, eat whatever we can find, making plans for the day. It's 1987, and life moves fast. Even if I don't feel like keeping up.

Lately, James has been different. Quieter. Or maybe I'm just noticing things that were always there. The way he sometimes stares off into space, his fingers tapping out rhythms for his own ears. The way he lingers a little too long in doorways, expecting something or someone to appear. He doesn't talk about it, though. None of us do. We just keep going, acting like everything is okay.

Maybe he's downstairs already, fiddling with his guitar, a low hum of his voice humming along to whatever song's in his head. I smile at the thought. James Hetfield. My roommate, my best friend, and sometimes... I don't know what. Something more, maybe. Or something less. It's hard to define what we are.

I drag myself out of his bed and into my jeans,the necklace around my neck is getting heavier with the days. The little locket inside, the one I never take off, a picture of him. I rarely open it. I don't have to. I can pull up his face on the screen in my head anytime. Those diamond cut blue eyes, that wonky smile capable of illuminating the whole damn room.

I trudge softly down the stairs, trying not to make any noise. I used to joke this place was haunted, maybe the ghosts of musicians still waited here, looking for their chance at popularity. James would laugh at me for it, calling me ridiculous, but sometimes. Sometimes, I truly wish it were. And maybe it is.

But it's still an empty kitchen. No James, no one else. Just the light patter of rain, the ticking of the clock on the wall. My face droops immediately. He's probably out in the garage, messing with his guitar, or he went for a drive. That's what he sometimes does when his head needs clearing. I'm fine. I'll see him later.

I sit at the table, running my fingers over the grain of the wood in an absent circle. The house is too quiet. Too still. I shut my eyes and try to recall the last conversation we had, but it's all hazy, reaching for smoke. My mind drifts and for one moment, I might have sworn I heard him, his voice calling my name up the hallway. I snap my eyes open and my heart's racing. But there's nobody.

Just the house. Just me.

I shake my head, feeling pathetic. Need to stop doing this, stop waiting for things that aren't there. I'm not some little girl anymore.

But still… I was hoping the house was haunted.

I lie later on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling, the Scorpions poster on his ceiling boring an image into my skull. The rain has calmed. I have no idea why I am in here. I should do anything else, do something else. Instead, I draw his pillow closer to me, inhaling into the now-faint scent of him that still clings to the fabric. I know if i keep breathing it in, it'll only smell like me. And that's no good.

I simply wish that he would just come back now.

I heard the opening of the door behind me, and my heart leaps half a second, hoping it is him, but it isn't. It's Cliff.

He steps inside, his eyes soft as they land on me, knowing exactly what's going on. That's always been him, kind and patient. He doesn't say anything, not for a minute or so, just walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, his weight sinking into the mattress.

And then I don't know why, but I just start crying. It's out of nowhere, tears spilling down my cheeks before I can even attempt to stop them. They soak into James' pillow like a hello. It's kind of really embarrassing, actually. I'm not a crier. But here I am, sobbing into James's pillow like some sort of broken thing, and I have no idea why.

Cliff says nothing more, but reaches out and gently brushes my hair from off my face, and I imagine his touch is James'.

"He loved you, you know," Cliff says in a voice soft enough that it caresses my slow heart.

My body freezes up. "What?

"James," he says, his fingers still moving through my hair, soothing me like I was a little girl. "He was crazy about you." I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You don't have to say that, Cliff. I know you're just trying to make me feel better."

But he doesn't laugh. He doesn't even smile. He just looks at me with those sad eyes of his, chestnut hair falling slightly in his eyes.

"He was gonna tell you," Cliff whispers. "After the tour. He had this big, stupid plan. He wanted to take you out to dinner, make it all special, you know? He was nervous as hell about it, too."

Why is Cliff saying this? Why now?

Again, Cliff says, "He never had the chance." Cliff's voice is no louder than a murmur. "But he loved you. Really did."

I wrap myself into a tight, clinging ball with his pillow. "But he's still here," I choke. "James is… he's still here, Cliff. He's just… he's just out somewhere, right?"

There's such a long pause, when Cliff speaks again, his voice is full with a sadness that I don't want to recognize. But I do.

"He's gone, sweetheart."

I shake my head wildly, eyes refusing to believe what I already know is true. "No. No, he's not. He's coming back. He's just—"

"He passed, remember? Last year. The bus."

I stop breathing as the room tilts, heavy with fog, pushing against my skin, promising to smother me. I remember, yet I don't want to. I don't want to think about that night, the phone call, a feeling of my love slipping away.

"I saw him," I whisper, my voice shaking. "I swear, Cliff, I saw him. He was right here."

Cliff doesn't argue, won't try to reason with me. He just pulls me into his arms, holding me as I break apart. He strokes my hair, whispering soft words that I can't quite make out, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is that James is gone. He's been gone for a year, and I've been living in this house, waiting for a ghost that will never come home.

Cliff lays me back down, tucks James’ blankets around me as if I am some sort of child. He doesn't leave, though. He stays beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder.

"He really did love you," Cliff says again, much softer this time. "More than you know."

The house isn't haunted. At least, it isn't haunted the way I wish it was.

I still wear you in my locket, James. I always will.

And maybe someday I'll find you again.

#mustainegf #fanfiction #fanfic #reqs open #request #metallica #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader #metallica fluff #james hetfield #james hetfield x you #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield x reader #james hetfield imagines #james hetfield fic #james hetfield fanfiction #metallica oneshot #metallica imagines

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ladykakata · 9 days

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Ian Gallagher and Mickey Milkovich are honestly good influences on each other

I swear I'll write proper posts sometime, but it's been swilling around my head with my other thoughts, so I might as well put it down here.

Mickey and Ian are chaotic nonsense idiots, and yet I cannot argue they don't have a good as well as bad influence on each other and that develops as they age (and constantly get pulled back together whenever they break up lmao).

Ian's influence on Mickey

It's a running joke that Mickey in the early series is this filthy goblin just running around being a hoodlum and ... yeah, he is lmao. But it's very notable as the series progresses that he starts becoming cleaner and dressing nicer the more time he spends with Ian. The man specifically wore a shirt to see Ian in the mental ward ffs. Not only that he actually *tries* working a normal job and socialising, something he is deeply uncomfortable with, but does it for Ian's sake. It doesn't escape my notice that he specifically wants to work with Ian whenever he can, probably tying in to my earlier point that he is only completely comfortable around Ian.

If you told S1 Mickey he would be helping his paraplegic father into the house and getting home nursing for him, he would wonder what kind of sick joke you were playing. But he does, something that even surprises Ian at first. Ian inspires Mickey to talk more about his feelings, he openly admits to thinking about missing Ian, whereas before he threatened to cut Ian's tongue out for saying that Ian missed Mickey. The idea of Mickey changing ANYTHING for anyone else is foreign ... but not if Ian suggests it to him the right way.

Ian's non-judgemental or at least lightly judgemental treatment of Mickey allows the man to be far more comfortable with himself. Though still highly defensive, I think it's telling Mickey is completely unashamed to be a bottom in front of Ian, and Mickey can make socially awkward gestures or gaffs and Ian doesn't upbraid him or make him feel like shit for doing the 'wrong' thing. Hell, as much as Ian was utterly, UTTERLY confused at Mickey's groomzilla episode, he mostly kept his confusion silent and simply reined Mickey in when he was losing his temper with vendors. The flower shop scene has Mickey blithely retorting that while Ian was gay, he 'just likes having another man's dick in my ass'. Ian in the same scene was tensing his jaw at the homophobia from the florist, and normally Mickey is quick to snap at anyone who considers him gay ("You calliin' me gay?" before slamming a bar owner's head into the counter), he simply bats it away as he's more focused on the flowers he wants and only becomes aggressive when the services are threatened to be withdrawn. Ian was always sure and comfortable with his sexuality and had little to no tolerance of homophobia, whereas Mickey was in either strict denial or profoundly uncomfortable and highly secretive.

Mickey's influence on Ian

The most obvious one is that Mickey was Ian's guardian during his bipolar struggles once Mickey finally realised what a problem it as, and he was determined to nurse Ian until he recognised (to his horror) he couldn't deal with this on his own and Ian really did need professional nursing and help.

What strikes me in a lot of scenes, both before and after that arc, is that Ian almost has Mickey as a constant in his life. It's a topic more for aspects of Ian's personality, but Mickey was the person Ian turned to when he had no-one else in S1, when he was in the 72 hour psychiatric hold he explicitly says 'Mickey is waiting for me'. Ian's life is constant chaos, much like Mickeys, and Ian is the sort of person who needs and thrives on structure when his brain isn't acting out. Mickey was a constant, someone to always come back to and someone he could rely on. In a way, I also see Mickey as someone who can be the impulsive one of the pair, letting Ian take the role of the mediator. It's easier for you to resist your own stupid impulses if your override kicks in because someone else is doing something foolish.

As much as I joke that Ian is the only person Mickey listens to, the same happens the other way around in the bipolar arc. During Ian's Military Police hallucination, it was Mickey who broke through the delusion after the shock of almost attacking Debbie brought Ian abruptly back to reality. Even as Mickey at first acts with his typical aggression ("There's nothin' out there! Fuckin' look!") and literally dragging him to the front door to prove the other side is the same, he gently reassures Ian that everything is alright and herds him upstairs to get dressed. Mickey made sure to get explicit instructions on Ian's medication and even measured it out for him ("Shut up and take your pills, bitch" is still one of my favourite lines).

I had more thoughts but my brain is soup and I still want to do a post on Ian's mental health and how he interacts with the world.

Send a prompt or aspect of these two if you want to hear me talk absolute garbage about these lovesick idiots

#Gallavich #Ian Gallagher #Mickey Milkovich #Ian x Mickey #Gallavich Musings #Shameless US

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island-in-the-shadows · 6 months

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On Felix Catton & Disgust/Desire

I had been waiting for a long while now to write this post. I wanted to do another full re-watch before I got into it because the ideas for this have been sitting in my mind for a long time. This is going to be a long post and, hopefully, not super pretentious. Most of us fans of Saltburn know, to some degree or another, that the core themes of the film revolve around disgust, desire, and obsession. And the biggest entry point to discuss this is the actions of our protagonist, Oliver Quick re the object of his disgust/desire/obsession Felix Catton.

I've written before that I believe that Oliver did know Felix and that Felix was emotionally vulnerable and candid with Oliver. I further stated that we, the audience, are forbidden from knowing the details of this intimacy because Oliver does not want us to truly know Felix. This means that the bits we get of Felix are small and very subtle. It means that we can interpret Felix's core personality, true intent, true desires in a litany of ways. My opinion is, realistically, no more valid than anyone else's. But for today, I wanted to discuss what I view, from the bits that we get, is Felix's relation with the core themes of the film. And, because I saw a truly heinous takes about a different fandom I'm in and I don't want to think about it, my brain said: hey...let's talk about Felix Catton and his disgust and desire.

Pt. 1: "Only rich people can afford to be this filthy."

When Oliver says the above, he and Felix are in Felix's messy and disgusting dorm room at Oxford. When you take a closer look at the room (which I admit was difficult on my first few views because Felix is lit and positioned to take all of your focus), it is a total shit show. There's clothes everywhere, empty containers everywhere, other unidentifiable debris...honestly wouldn't shock me if there was some used condom somewhere. We know from Oliver that, not only does it look like chaos, it smells terrible. However, Felix is unbothered. He is concerned only with the heat which, in this case, is an external force that he cannot control no matter his good looks, his charms, his pedigree, or his money. By what we see, Felix is quite happy and content in the filth. It is only when Oliver points out the filth and points out that Felix won't take care of it, that Felix reacts negatively.

Felix, as we know, is very accustomed to his messes being cleaned up for him. Before we even get to Saltburn it's a safe assumption to make. Prior to college/uni, he would've gone to some posh boarding school or other. I doubt that they were made to clean everything in boarding school (though if any of you know please let me know). We also know that wealthy people tend to have hired staff who clean for them. This is a young man who has never had to clean up his spilled milk and it has never even occurred to him to do it.

However, the important bit to note is not that Felix is messy and that it doesn't occur to him to clean. What's important to note is that the mess simply does not bother him. Just because he is born to extreme wealth and privilege does not mean that he would have to be this way. There's been germaphobe rich people or people who prefer to have a minimalistic space or any number of things. Regardless of wealth, some people are fine with mess and some people require mess to be done away with immediately. Felix is in the former category. He certainly must notice the mess at some point (even if, clearly, he's nosebleed to it) but he is comfortable in his space.

This is also true of his room at Saltburn. We barely see it, I know, but let's take a look at that glossy af pic of it from the Architectural Digest Article...

There is crap EVERYWHERE. The more you look at it the more crap you find. You can't even say that it's perfectly clean either because there's dirty clothes in spots, there's multiple pillows on the ground, there's a random used water glass, there's either toilet paper or paper towels on the night stand, the bed isn't perfectly made, I could go on. Chaos and filth and mess is, technically, Felix's natural habitat. It's the kind of mess that is surrounded by opulence, certainly, but it's still a mess.

Only rich people can afford to be this messy because they can also dictate when and where their staff cleans. Presumably, there are things in Felix's bedroom (perhaps the toilet paper/paper towels which have a...purpose) which he has instructed Duncan to leave alone. Or Elspeth has put terms for how often the maids come in the rooms. It could be framed in a multitude of ways. The point stands that Felix can exist in these chaotic and, even, disgusting spaces because he chooses to be. What his privilege does, then, is afford him absence from judgment.

We see the staff at Saltburn clean up after the party. We see that they quietly replaced a broken mirror before anyone can question the cracks. We never see the staff judge. Do they? Certainly they must, we all have opinions. But do they express their judgement to the masters of the house? No. It's not their place to do so. They are considered staff and therefore their opinions do not come into play for the Cattons nor would they want to hear them. Even Duncan's genuine unease and grief after Felix dies is mostly kept under control. He's not paid to express his emotions or his thoughts, after all.

And why go into all of this? Because Felix is content to live in the mess, to revel in the gross and in some version of the abject. What Felix cannot handle is being confronted with his pleasure. To me, this (along with wanting to separate Oliver from staff when the younger boy starts actively cleaning) is the main reason why he snaps when Oliver points out the disgusting state of the dorm. He does not need or want to know how he fits outside a specific role that he was born to play and, likely, believes he has to play. Even if it didn't occur to him to clean, he could've used his wealth and influence to find someone to clean for him. But he didn't. Because it doesn't bother him. Oliver being bothered and pointing out that Felix is so wealthy that he can live in the filth is what bothers him, instead.

Pt. 2 "Was it? Was it awful?"

I am going to keep this section short, because there have been much better posts about this and I, personally, go back and forth on this all the time. Regardless, Felix having an interest in a made up fantasy of a shitty childhood and what he can, likely, envision as some Dickensian nightmare of a situation falls into his relation to disgust and desire. What Felix knows of true poverty and addiction likely comes from media or exaggerated stories from people who have been in contact with someone who was an addict or something to that extent. His imagination must be running wild with theories. And while I do think that he did have good intentions regarding Oliver when it comes to this, his demeanour also shows an attraction to the grotty aspects of it. Oliver only ever calls him out on this, to a degree, in the maze. Before this, Felix can be interested in what he imagines is the horror of Oliver's childhood but not be caught out as being a tragedy whore or someone with a saviour complex or anything else, because his interest is not being pointed out. Again, he has an interest or desire for mess and chaos as long as it is not pointed out.

Pt. 3 "You're supposed to be here with me."

Let's, briefly, talk about queerness. Let's talk about how Felix has an image to maintain. How he has expectations put upon him. Yes, he has privilege and wealth beyond understanding, but these things often have a tradeoff. Celebrities, for example, have to forfeit a lot of their privacy. Royalty and nobility (regardless of country) often forfeit chunks of their privacy and the possibility of living outside of a script (publicly, at any rate). Felix CANNOT go off script.

He is implied to be the heir to Saltburn and everything that comes with it: money, land, title, expectations. Like in the days of old, it's probably expected of him to produce an heir. It's also expected of him to marry a lady from his class in order to produce said heir. And, back in 2006/7, people were less acceptating of LGBTQ+ people that they are now, and Same-Sex marriage was not a thing in the UK and it wouldn't be for another 7 or so years. So Farleigh, who will inherit nothing and only ever be given scraps, can embrace his queerness; Felix cannot.

Personally, I believe that Felix did have some sort of interest in Oliver. It's not just in the fact that he is possessive of Oliver to the point of disregarding his family. It's in all the Bambi eyed looks that we see Felix give Oliver. You could argue that these are exaggerations from Oliver but then, how do you explain the POV shots we get of Felix looking at Oliver? How they are also romance coded, lustful, pinky and fluffy? There is something there. To what extent there was something is pure conjecture. But, I personally believe that he had some kind of feelings for Oliver but could not express those feelings and, to an extent, found his feelings for Oliver disgusting.

Even if his mother is, in her way, tolerant of queer people, this does not mean that she would be ok with Felix being with a man. I doubt his father, who is in his 60s at the time, would be any happier about it. Again, Felix needs to have an heir and take over Saltburn. So, at most, they would've tolerated that Felix had a "friend" tucked away somewhere that Felix could go to every so often. Queerness is not the desired outcome and so, at some point, Felix would've had to separate any feelings from the matter. And, hypothetically, in boarding school any hand jobs etc. from other boys would be viewed as part of a norm that exists within the realm of "no homo."

So, given he has been emotionally intimate with Oliver and, given that he has felt more for Oliver than he probably thinks he should, he feels disgust as much as he feels desire. He can, and personally I think does, want Oliver, but feels disgusted by his feelings and has a strong desire to keep them channeled in the "appropriate" way. Just the same, he gets jealous and he does not want to share. He cannot abide by Oliver being free to pursue another partner (guarantee he would be equally as incensed if he had found out about Farleigh and it probably would've slightly registered had Oliver actually slept with Indabel). It's specifically a slap in the face that it's Venetia who has done this kind of thing before and who is allowed to be physical with these friends of Felix's with whom Felix does not feel he could or should be physically intimate. Thus, the possession and the jealousy and the spurned wife behaviour of it all.

Pt. 4 "You make my fucking blood run cold."

Bref, I think Felix had good intentions but poor thinking skills when he wanted to take Oliver to his parents' house. Multiple posts have discussed this bit and I do think he wanted to further trauma bond with Oliver the way they further trauma bonded when Oliver's dad "died", afterwards, per the script, they were "closer than ever." And then they had that intimate moment on the bridge and spent some time there completely alone instead of being at a giant party. I think he thought that the experience would bring them closer and that he would be there to, in his way, protect Oliver. And I still think this plays in to all the little ways in which Felix desires disgust and is disgusted by his desires. But he does it anyway.

The betrayal of trust and intimacy that follows has to feel like a bomb has gone off in Felix's mind. But what's worse for him, again this is solely my opinion, is that he still desires Oliver regardless. It might not have fully formed in his head and he then dulled it with drugs and alcohol and with his shoddy attempt at fucking Indabel in the maze, but possibly the inkling of why Oliver lied the way he did had entered his brain. Oliver already tried to explain. Told Felix in the hallway when they got back that he wanted to be Felix's friend. And Felix likely relived his entire relationship with Oliver including what Oliver just told him. And, to me, Felix was not entirely opposed to it. He didn't immediately kick out Oliver or cause too much of a fuss. He wanted space. He wanted to not think about it for a while. But Oliver forced his hand.

Again, here we have a Felix who is disgusted by his desire. A Felix who, deep down, knows that he likes that Oliver lied. That he likes that Oliver desires him so much that he would do anything for him. Likes that, despite NEVER wanting anyone to know the most debauched parts of him, Oliver is close to knowing all of his darkest parts and loving him for them just the same. But a Felix who, nonetheless, does not allow himself to revel in the filth once it's pointed out.

And Oliver points it out. In a big way. "Everyone puts on a show for Felix! [...] doesn't this just prove how much of a good friend I actually am? How well I actually know you!" He does know him. Felix knows this. Felix CANNOT go off script. Felix cannot acknowledge his love for things that are disgusting or less than savoury. So too he cannot allow them or acknowledge them here. And then we have something in the script vs. how Jacob actually looked that's what inspired me to write this overly long post in the first fucking place.

This is not the exact beat. Because this is after Felix says his line about his blood running cold. The vibe is the same, though. Regardless...is THAT the fact of disgust? Because to me, that is not disgust. That is some form of desire that most mortals will never experience. But then...it also IS disgust. Because the two are intertwined for him. Because he desires because of the disgust at the situation and at the lengths of debasement Oliver will go to to please him. He is a boy who loves mess and chaos and who makes his home there. And, to whatever extent, his heart could've made a home in the mess and chaos and filth that Oliver brought to the table. Even if Felix has to be disgusted at his desires and prevent them. Even if Oliver took any option or opportunity away from Felix.

Oliver makes his blood run cold, but Felix never said that was a bad thing. And it isn't. Just as Oliver revels in the filth of bodies and their fluids and the inferred possession that comes with them, so too Felix revels in the filth of places and things he shouldn't want and things he can only truly savour in the shadows where no one points them out.

TL;DR Felix is as much of a freak as Oliver is, though in a different way. He is shown to be comfortable and even like messy and gross things but, he only does so when it's not pointed out. He can be, to a point, physically close and emotionally intimate with Oliver and, even partially overlook a betrayal of this intimacy, but only if it's never pointed out. Only if it doesn't break with the expectations and social script on which he has been raised and to which he has to stick. He serves to demonstrate the relationship with disgust and desire as much as Oliver does, but his relation is more subtle and harder to see. And maybe, just maybe, given time, he would've at least bent the script.

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Super sorry for how long this is, I just needed to get it out! Thanks to @ollieapologist for being my biggest cheerleader about this post. Sorry if this is incoherent!

#saltburn #felix catton #cattonquick #super long post #just my two cents #literally I know this can be interpreted in so many ways but it's been rattling around my brain for a WHILE now #now can we get some uni prof to come grade me? lol. I think I did ok #saltburn meta

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skrrts · 7 days

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Home Is ✧ yeosang version (oneshot)

✧ gn!reader x kang yeosang ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, fluff, romance ✧ word count: 1,3k ✧ warnings: food / eating

You have found the love of your life, and now the two of you are ready for the next step in your relationship: moving together. Neither of you can wait to finally be able to spend every day together but it's out of the question ... the whole progress looks a lot more casual and aesthetical on social media than it actually is. Chaos. Your furniture delivery is delayed but that doesn't mean you can't have a cute dinner in the middle of unpackaged moving boxes and fake candlelight. It still feels like a dream, looking at the most beautiful man with whom you'll now truly spend your life with.

a/n: #2 of my friday oneshot series for September ft. the hyung line. delayed because i deleted the original post while on a trip. hope the start of autumn is a pleasant one for you so far 🤎🍂

It was a little silly, the way how you shoved some of the moving boxes together as a replacement for a table and threw a bedsheet over it so that it looked much nicer than simply doing it without that. You placed one of your smaller plants on top and added one of the LED candles you bought the other day. Soft sounds came from the kitchen, Yeosang unboxed a few plates to use instead of eating out of the plastic containers your takeaway food arrived in.

This was your very first apartment and everything was so new and exciting, easily outweighing the downsides of it, the stress and endless amount of work still waiting for you. Your parents owned a small house and until last week, you lived in the small rooftop apartment your dad built for you. It had been small but perfect for you and you’d always cherish the hours you spent there growing up, time with friends and most of all, those soft nights with Yeosang.

The two of you had been dating for over two years and when Yeosang proposed to move together, you accepted it without hesitation. Your parents were thrilled and excited to see their youngest child venturing into this new part of life and there had been many helpful hands to help bring all you needed here. Now all that was left were shelves to set up and boxes to clean out, well and waiting for your bedroom and living room furniture which had been delayed by a week due to poor weather conditions in your area.

It would take weeks until this really would be homely but Yeosang and you both were simple people and you managed to feel happy with the smallest of things.

“The dinner is served.” Yeosang carried two large places swiftly inside, placing them on your small setup table.

You allowed yourself to admire his beauty for a moment. While he wore comfortable jeans and a loose white shirt, his muscular body still was showcased beautifully, and while his brown hair reached his eyes by now, the birthmarks you adored so much were still visible.

Yeosang covered them up still when you two started to date but now, he was comfortable not to do that anymore and you were proud of him.

“What are you looking at?” he asked in his deep voice, a curious smile on his lips when you blinked, being caught once more and quickly picking up the fork and knife.

“Just was thinking how I get to stare at you properly now at any time of the day without having to answer anyone’s question of what I am looking at,” you teased but wanted to be sincere. Your parents always taught you the importance of being sincere and honest with your partner and you liked how the two of you boosted each other’s confidence, helping out with the insecurities you faced.

You weren’t perfect but you could remind each other how you were perfect in the other’s eyes.

“Is that so? Well, I cannot deny that is a good point,” he chuckled and clapped his hands together: “Thank you for the shared meal.”

With that, Yeosang also started to eat but he was slow, his eyes on you adoringly. You did not realize just how hungry you must have been after all the hard work of today and it tasted even better than usual, your plate empty in no time.

Your boyfriend disappeared for a moment and returned with two plates of cake and you didn’t even know when he had the time to get those. “Now you are tempting me to eat sugar at such a late hour,” you laughed and he winked.

“Well, I was just thinking how I can spoil you to any given hour now without having anyone to ask if we always do it like that.”

Tch, using your own words against you, all you could do was smile.

Yeosang picked up a little bit from the cake, offering it to you on the tip of the fork. You carefully leaned over and accepted it. His pretty face was lit by the fake candles, making him look like what you thought angels must look like.

The cake was delicious and you soon repaid the favor. This was nice, you enjoyed how soft everything felt, the excitement to know you’d share your life like this from now on.

Once you were done, you cleaned up and decided to call it enough for the day.

Yeosang prepared the couch, there were blankets and pillows and more candles. Yet, the most beautiful part was him with arms wide open, inviting you to come into his embrace and you did so without hesitation.

He hugged you tightly, wrapping your bodies into the blankets as he turned on the TV. You relaxed against his body and his arms kept you tight as you picked a random show you two watched before, something easy that did not require your full attention. Today really had been too exhausted to pay any show much mind.

Yeosang began to place little kisses on top of your hair and you find yourself sighing.

“You are okay?” his voice was soft and caring, his fingers entwined with yours as he leaned a little forward so that you could look at his face.

“Mhm, I was just thinking, this is nice. I mean, I know in theory we do not do anything different from all the evenings we spent at your or my old place but knowing this is our home now…”

The budget had been a bit tight but this would be more than enough, you did not need a whole lot of space.

Yeosang’s eyes wandered over the living room or the parts you managed to set up earlier before he smiled too: “Knowing how it won’t get boring.... I am excited, thinking about mornings where you get nervous because you cannot find your keys and they just fell off the shelf or when I have no memory just where I left my phone in the middle of the night.”

It was something the two of you would do very likely. You could already see it in your mind, how two mature people just were silly and clumsy together, maybe a little lost.

“But also, do not forget how we will be too late at work because we got lost in each other’s embrace, little kisses exchanged while one of us mumbles how we should get going but the other is simply unwilling to let go just yet.”

Most of your friends had a hard time imagining how the two of you were like that as you were considered the mature ones but it occurred several times and now living together, well.

You loved how you were a little more silly when it just was the two of you together like that.

“That sounds amazing,” Yeosang admitted, humming as his gaze wandered back to the TV.

“I do not care if in the end, we do decide to expand families or live just like that, the two of us. I know that now, my home in form of the person I adore the post and the place where I return to are finally together and I am so very lucky for that.”

Your cheeks turned red just a little when he said that. “Sh, you make me all shy!” you complained and Yeosang grinned: “Good, get used to it.”

You rolled your eyes and he laughed, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“I love you, so very much,” he whispered and your hand rested on his cheek.

“I love you too, Yeosang.”

Yeosang looked happy and content when he looked at you and for a moment you just remained like that before snuggling closer to him again. The TV was still running in the background but all you could think about was how you had a future, one really starting now, together with the man you loved more than anything in the world.

#yeosang x reader #yeosang x you #yeosang oneshot #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez au #ateez writing #kang yeosang x reader #ys tag #yeosang fluff #ateez fluff #fluff tag #reis writes #home is

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year

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Part Five Part Two / Part Six YOU ARE HERE. / Part Seven

A03

"No come back here and hug me dammit!"

"I told you it'd be funny." Gareth stage whispered to Steve the following Monday, as Eddie proceeded to cause his usual amount of chaos in the lunchroom.

Tiff just shook her head.

"Come on, just do it and then tell everyone I'm better!" Eddie shrieked again, loud enough to be heard across the school. Possibly into the parking lot, given the winces and glares their peers tossed Eddie's way.

Jeff had his own head in his hands having been Eddie's prior cuddle victim and still suffering the consequences from it.

"I hate you." He groaned, and every single person knew he was talking to Gareth. "I cannot believe you told him his stupid hugs didn't even compare to Steve's. He almost broke my back this morning!"

Which wasn't an understatement--Gareth himself had dodged his best friend's aggressive hugs only by bolting to his first class, then acting like a ninja as he snuck about all day.

He'd even dropped to the floor and army-crawled at one point.

Now he stayed close to Steve, blatantly using the jock as a meat shield.

"Anyone have any ideas on how we can get him to chill out?" Stewart asked, from where he'd taken refuge under the lunch table.

Their second eldest member put up with many things, but drew the line at bodily injury by overly affectionate metalhead.

"Same as always." Jeff grumbled, making sure Gareth saw his glare. "We wait him out."

"Tiff!" Eddie whined, whirling around, hands reaching out for her.

"You touch me Munson and I'll burn the trigonometry notes I promised you." Tiffany threatened without looking up from her book.

"Fine." Eddie wheeled right back around. "Graaaaant-!"

"This could take days!" Stewart complained, acting like a man caged. "I can't wait much longer!"

'Dramatic, the whole lot of them.' Gareth thought fondly, knowing he was just as bad.

"Okay. Seriously, how are we fixing this?" Jeff said sourly, as Grant once again picked Eddie up by his jacket and bodily threw him as far away as he could.

Like an eldritch being from a B horror movie, Eddie simply bounced back up and came for him again.

"His issue is that he thinks I'm the better cuddler, right? Nothing else?" Steve said thoughtfully.

"Yes." Groaned the other four in unison, as Grant laid a hand on Eddie's forehead, the latter pinwheeling his arms like a cartoon character.

Steve nodded once, before his face morphed into something devastatingly smug. "Yeah we're screwed."

Jeff switched targets from Gareth to glare at Steve instead. "Really Harrington?"

"I'm back to Harrington now? Jeff, man, you wound me." Steve faked a gasp, putting a hand over his heart.

It made Gareth grin, if only because Steve wouldn't have done that a month ago. "God I love when you're a bitch."

Steve looked over at him and winked.

"Just for that, we should make you cuddle with him." Stewart grumbled. "Tell him he can decide for himself who's better!"

Which of course killed the playful look on Steve's face.

Two pairs of shoes proceeded to kick at Stewart (who dodged Jeff's only to be nailed by Tiffany's far more tactical aim.)

Except when Gareth though about it, it actually wasn't a half-bad idea.

If one pitched it right.

"You know," Gareth said slowly, a plan forming. It was half-baked, but it'd work. "--you could end this pretty easily if you did. You have the power."

"Are we being serious right now?" Jeff grumped. "This does not feel like we're being serious."

Gareth ignore him.

"You up for one last cuddle, Sir Carrington?" He asked, playfully.

He got a flat look in return. "You've got to be kidding me. You're seriously suggesting the solution here is for me and Eddie to cuddle."

"I am indeed." Gareth said with a grin. "So long as it's an absolutely terrible cuddle."

That got an interesting reaction.

"Good luck, I'm an amazing cuddler." Steve huffed, offended--and it looked like he actually believed it.

A curiosity, considering even with everyone announcing themselves before touching him he still got jumpy.

"Then pretend." Gareth wheedled. "You don't even have to do it for that long. Sneeze in his ear and he'll be done for."

He got a few grossed out looks for that, but it was worth it all to see Steve growing more comfortable with the idea.

"If I were to do anything of the sort I wouldn't sneeze in his ear." The jock retorted, but he looked contemplative.

"I'm sure you could come up with something else. " Gareth suggested, and gave his best, award winning smile as he said it. "You're creative when cornered."

No ulterior motives here, no sir!

"I know what you're doing, Gareth." Steve said, calling him out immediately. "But I might be convinced to take a hit for the team--for a price. My reputation would be on the line."

"What do you want?" Stewart asked immediately, more than a little desperate as Eddie carried on in the background.

"Well..." Steve trailed off, slowly meeting each and every one of them in the eye. "what are you offering?"

"You know what?" Jeff said, putting his head back in his hands. " Just for that, you and Gareth both are on my shit list."

"I'll bake you those marble brownies you wanted and get right back off it." Steve said, the smug air only growing as Jeff sighed loudly.

"Name your price, Harrington." Stewart said, talking over Jeff's second, overly dramatic sigh. "You want some D&D treasure, or an item for your character? You got it. You want a fucking," He paused, eyes scrunching up in thought. "--new basketball? Or whatever sport ball you're into right now?"

"Not even close." Steve told him.

Jeff sighed a third time, loud and obnoxious.

"Why does this always fall down to me?" Tiff asked the ceiling, as though God himself might respond back with the answer. She tilted her head back down, aiming to make eye contact with Steve. "You're in Rucker's class right? I'll write your poly-sci paper. Highest grade I will guarantee is a B, and that is because it would be suspicious if you looked like you suddenly had strong, A-grade opinions on current, geopolitical policies."

Steve snapped and pointed towards her. "Sold!" He called, mimicking an auctioneer.

Smooth as butter, he turned towards Hurricane Eddie. "Hey Munson!"

In two seconds the jock had summoned that cocky persona of his, wearing a smarmy smile like a cloak. It was getting easier and easier to tell which "bitchy Steve" was the real one and which one was a total front.

(Tiffany had decided the man was a mean girl at his core and honestly, the label stuck.

But Mean Girl Steve was a hell of a lot different than King Steve--or any of the other overly confident swaggering personas Steve adopted like a second skin.)

For for all the preparation he'd had, was still rigid most of the time Gareth had occupied his lap, only relaxing when the younger boy had gotten Eddie so wound up their eldest friend couldn't form coherent sentences.

Now, as Steve strode over and issued the challenge of a cuddle off during the next Hellfire game, he was already less stiff.

Eddie had that effect on people. Particularly ones who had crushes on him.

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever been involved in." Tiffany complained.

"Is it Tiff? Is it really?" Jeff challenged as he finally sat up.

"She's definitely forgetting the purple griffin incident." Grant said, completely ignoring what was going down on the other end of the table as he took advantage of Eddie being distracted to make his escape.

"Fine." Tiff conceded before anyone could list anything else off, "But it's at least in the top five."

"This Friday, Harrington." Eddie announced loudly then, fire in his eyes and a finger in Steve's face. "Me and you. It is on."

"Hope you're ready to lose." Steve taunted.

It was hilarious as it was ridiculous.

Which meant of course, that dumb shit had to get in the way of it.

xXx

Steve backslid the next morning.

Worse, he kept backsliding, growing worse throughout the week until the person left looked a whole lot like the guy they’d dragged to their table all those months ago.

He sat silently next to Eddie during lunch, only speaking if asked a direct question, all banter and playful bitchiness gone.

He avoided Hellfire’s members in the hallway, Stewart reporting he had been uncharacteristically silent during their one shared class.

Most damning?

He’d flinched when Eddie had done their dumb little “shoulder bumping” routine.

Which officially meant that ghost Steve was back.

(“I didn’t realize how Steve was our little ray of sunshine and positivity until he stopped being it.” Tiff complained, idly spinning a pencil in the library. “Worse, I didn’t think I’d miss it.”

Gareth, who definitely wasn’t skipping again, agreed wholeheartedly.)

Not even Eddie's antics got a smile out of Steve. He really tried too, to the point where Gareth was starting to worry his best friend was going to do something dramatic just to get a little chuckle.

Steve at least, picked up on the fact he was freaking out all of Hellfire when Grant started to get blunt with his questions.

A part of Gareth (the part that appreciated Grant’s bluntness, instead of the rest of him, that wanted to duck and cover in case it made things worse) was curious if this would finally get Steve to open up; but instead it just made things worse.

Within two direct “No really dude, what's wrong?” ’s, Steve retired the haunted act and instead brought the downright freaky return of one Hawkins' jock's doing a real good job at pretending he was okay.

Pity for him this wasn't Tommy H or the rest of the public Steve was trying to fool.

This was a group of people who tended to be hyper aware of things, ranging from their surroundings to their people. (And then went on to play, as Steve regularly teased them, “one giant math game about it.”)

Not a single one of them was fooled by the act, or the evasive answers Steve pulled out of his ass when the rest of them all, individually, in their own way, tried to figure out if their newest member was okay or just having a few bad days.

"He told me he wasn't feeling good." Jeff said, worrying his lip with his teeth when they all finally convened together after school to discuss it.

"Are we choosing to buy that?" Tiffany asked, one eyebrow raised in a challenge. "He's been off since Tuesday. It's Thursday."

Grant huffed an agreement, arms crossed over his chest.

"Devils advocate, people are typically sick for more than one day." Stewart pointed out. "Dudes probably got allergies or something, it is the end of May."

"It's not allergies." Gareth said flatly.

Allergies usually came with symptoms like coughing and sneezing.

They did not come with vacant stares and falling over one's feet when their friends said hello in the hallway.

"Well clearly he doesn't want to talk about it so maybe he'll just…work himself out of whatever it is." Jeff reasoned. "I don't know if we should really push him about it."

"And miss out on another week's worth of baking?" Stewart bemoaned, as if Steve's lack of treats was the sole reason they were concerned.

Tiff swiped at him with her paperback.

Interestingly, Eddie had yet to say much on the matter. Everyone knew he was just as worried. The guy was a secret teddy bear, and they all still knew to warn him if a dog so much as got hurt in a movie. Worse, Steve was one of his "sheepies" as he so lovingly called them all, and was notoriously defensive of Hellfire as a whole.

Gareth had been eyeing him throughout their little gathering, watching as his best friend tapped his foot anxiously.

The guy seemed lost in his own head and while it wasn't completely unusual, it too, was odd behavior.

Gareth squinted at him, making eye contact and asking if he was alright with the kind of subtle facial expressions only best friends could pull.

Eddie didn't respond, but instead, looked away.

'That's a no.' Gareth thought, as the conversation around them wound down, without anyone coming up with any solid plans on what they were going to do about the Steve situation.

This is exactly how he ended up following Eddie home.

"Inviting ourselves over I see." The elder teen muttered out of the corner of his mouth as Gareth chased him to his van, hopping into the passenger seat instead of heading for his bicycle.

"It's a good night for a smoke sess." Gareth responded casually.

"You hate smoking weed." Eddie returned with a snort. "You prefer edibles."

"Just think of what we could do with Harrington's baking skills." Gareth replied wistfully--but made sure to watch his friend.

There it was. The slightest of weird expressions, flitting over Eddie's face like a shadow before he hid it back into whatever cage it escaped from.

"You're worried." Gareth guessed. Not like that was a hard one.

"Aren't we all, Gare-Bear?" Eddie returned, eyes never leaving the road.

He pretended like he couldn't feel Gareth scanning him, taking in the too tense shoulders and the shuttered, guarded look on his face.

"You know something." Gareth guessed after a moment.

The declaration made his best friend flinch, hands squeezing tight on the wheel.

'Got you.'

"Are you going to spill or do I have to blackmail it out of you?"

"Please Gary you have nothing you could blackmail me with." Eddie challenged with a snort. "I am shameless."

A challenge that could not be ignored, if only because Gareth wanted to remind him who had had the upper hand since Steve had crashed into Hellfire.

"Really? So you wouldn't mind if I show Steve those photos of the time we dressed up as a Barbie “ken doll” band for Jeff’s sister’s birthday? You know, the one were you were wearing that pink boa and the star glasses--”

A hand shot out, clapping Gareth over the mouth.

"Thank you, I got it!" Eddie said, voice an octave higher than normal. "Why do you still even have that!?"

"My mom." Gareth managed to get out, even if it was horribly muffled between Eddie's bony fingers.

"Curse that woman's thirst for nostalgia and scrapbooks." Eddie hissed, as if his mom was some grand villain.

"You love her crafts, you ass." Gareth rolled his eyes, wiping his mouth when Eddie finally removed his hand. "Now spill."

"I'm not sure this is what's causing it." The elder cautioned after a pause just long enough to be dramatic. "But rumor has it his parents are home."

"You think they're why he's acting all…" Gareth trailed off, unsure of what to compare Steve to and not wanting to say a kicked dog.

Eddie hummed in agreement. "Every time I walk into Steve's house, the place starts off feeling like a living tomb. There’s got to be a reason for that, and the only one I can think of is that his parents want that. The tomby-ness."

Gareth leaned back in his seat, contemplating. Turned the idea of Steve's mysterious parents over in his head, comparing it to how the guy's house did have a sort of museum quietness to it.

It wasn't that the place was huge, or even that Steve was typically its solo occupant beyond the occasional weekends one or both of his parents "popped in."

It was the perfectness of it.

How on any given day a photographer could show up to take pictures and the place would be camera ready.

A sort of--trophy house.

He went on to tell his best friend this.

"It’s like a shrine to their success." Eddie added an hour later, when they'd resettled onto his couch, trying to break down just what exactly about Steve's house made it so weird.

They'd shared a beer each--some gross kind that a cat couldn't have gotten buzzed off of, and Gareth had just finished helping Eddie select their chosen flower to roll when an awkward sound erupted throughout the trailer.

If Gareth knew any better, he'd say it almost sounded like someone was knocking on the shitty aluminum door.

Couldn't be though, because he'd never in his life heard someone knock--Eddie's uncle Wayne had a key, and every member of Hellfire was aware that the window in Eddie's room had a broken lock.

To get it open you just had to push at it from a specific angle, and with a few tugs it'd come right up for you.

The noise came again, this time a little louder.

Gareth looked to Eddie, and found his friend holding all the weed.

Understanding flashed between them, and Gareth stood up to answer the door as Eddie magically made the drugs disappear.

Thankfully, it wasn't the cops.

"Hey." Steve said, standing awkwardly on Eddie's porch, looking like he desperately wanted inside but wasn't sure he'd be allowed in. "Eddie said I could just come over if I needed to…?"

He trailed off, awkwardly miming smoking with his fingers.

Gareth couldn't hold in the snort.

"You're in luck man, because I just finished rolling a few." He said, stepping back to let their wayward jock in.

"Hey Stevie." Eddie drawled, now in the process of making the weed reappear. "Come in, have a seat, take a puff."

Rather than sit on the admittedly small couch, Steve chose instead to drop his ass to the floor, leaving the open spot above him to Gareth. He waited until the younger was seated before he leaned back, broad shoulders brushing both his friends legs as he relaxed.

Eddie’s hand twitched, as though he wanted to run it through Steve’s hair and thought better of it.

(Knowing him as Gareth did, that was very likely exactly what the weird little movement of his was.)

“You wanna tell us what’s goin’ on?” Eddie said softly, long after all three of them had an inhale of the joint Eddie had lit, sitting in relaxed silence. "Cause you've been pretty down, Stevie."

"Yeah." Steve agreed hollowly. "Sorry."

Eddie nudged his leg with a foot, then offered him the blunt again. "Don't apologize man, we can't all be sunshine and rainbows."

“You’d be surprised at how many people expect an apology for just that.” Steve muttered.

Gareth traded careful looks over Steve’s head, Eddie turning back and resolutely plowing on.

“You don’t have to, but talking tends to make people feel better.”

“Does it?” Steve asked, before taking a slow, measured inhale of the joint.

Idly he added; "Gareth you can't roll for shit."

"Fuck you dude!" The younger teen exclaimed, instantly offended, but knew a redirect when he saw one. "You try rolling them then!" He snatched the joint out of Steve's hands, huffing audibly.

It was an offer. If Steve didn't want to take the opening Eddie had given him, he could instead take the out Gareth had given.

The option reminded him of Alice in Wonderland (Gareth’s actual favorite movie, even if he tells everyone else it's The Empire Strikes Back)

Specifically when Alice was lost, standing before a split path and asking advice from the Cheshire Cat.

Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" Alice asks.

The Cheshire Cat spins its head, smiling its smile as it answers;“ That depends a good deal on where you want to get to."

Steve proved himself to be a stronger man that Gareth had given him credit for, and took the harder path.

"My parents are home." He said, eyes glued to the TV in front of him, as if that would make the conversation easier.

Perhaps it did.

Eddie to his credit, didn't treat the declaration as anything important. "Yeah? They bring you something nice back from New York?"

"Florida this time and no."

Steve fussed with a thread on his sweater for a moment, a single yellow thread unspooling from the end. It looked like he’d been tugging at it a lot, a small imperfection on an otherwise expensive looking piece of clothing.

"Apparently I've been such a disappointment they're demanding I get a job." He began again. "They want me to learn the realities of hard work."

Gareth traded puzzled glances with Eddie.

Steve had never shied from hard work.

Everyone had heard the story of how he’d won over every coach in Hawkins' High’s favor. It was practically school legend, since he was the first freshmen to take up and finish some bullshit exercise challenge they hosted every year.

The guy even had a herd of some of the most obnoxious children he looked after, without pay.

There was no way the source of whatever was eating at him was a summer job.

Or perhaps, not just a summer job.

"Summer jobs fucking suck, but I hear that new mall’s finally finished.” Gareth said hesitantly. “You could probably get in somewhere there before you head off to college.”

"I'm not going to college. Didn't get into any." Steve said flatly.

Ah-ha.

"I only applied to the one Nancy made me." He added, still refusing to look at either of them. "Couldn't bring myself to apply to any of the others."

Which--odd, but it wasn't the oddest thing ever. Some people just didn't like school, or traditional learning methods.

No matter how much Gareth's counselor insisted otherwise.

"My dad found that out too." Steve said after a moment.

"College isn't the fucking answer to life." Gareth continued. "There's plenty of other things you can do."

Eddie’s head cocked, like a dog who’d been presented with a puzzle.

Steve shrugged. "That's not my issue with it, but the old man thinks it is. He keeps insisting that the free rides are over now." His voice kicked into a deep mockery of his fathers at the end, the condescending tone coming through loud and clear. “Thinks I'm here to screw my girlfriend and party my life away. Wouldn't hear me about not wanting to go to college, at all. Definitely didn't care that I broke up with Nancy." The last part was muttered, almost said more to himself and for himself than it was for them.

Eddie’s head tilted the other way.

"Did you have an idea of what you wanted to do?" Gareth asked. He figured it they knew, they might be at least able to help.

He got a shrug in response.

Gareth was about to open his mouth--probably to put his foot in it, but hell if Steve wanted help brainstorming what he did want to do with his life, or at least get positive support from someone who wasn't a rich asshole, it might as well start here.

Eddie beat him to the punch though, because as usual, Eddie was able to track the weird unspoken thing that no one else could pick up on.

"It's the kids, isn't it?" Eddie asked softly. Reverently. "You don't want to leave Hawkins, because of the kids."

Steve took another sip of beer, waving off the joint Gareth offered him. For someone who'd come to smoke he'd barely touched it or the beer, but then no one here would push.

It was pretty obvious, (to Gareth anyway) that the weed had been a flimsy excuse to begin with.

"When those damn kids started trying to trap the--dogs." Steve started, correcting his slip so smoothly Gareth almost didn't pick up that he'd intended to say something else. “I was the only damn adult they could find.”

Steve gave up fiddling with his sweater to tug angrily at his beer tab, twisting and pulling at it.

"They had figured out where the dogs would be. Had an entire meat bucket they wanted to use as bait and but I was the only damn person to try and at least wrangle the little shits. You wanna know how they found me?" He picked up steam now, and Eddie couldn't even be satisfied that he'd managed to hit the nail on the head because clearly whatever was happening here was the actual thing Steve needed to get off his chest.

"Football practice?" Gareth asked mostly to fill in the tension-filled pause, and then ducked from the swat Eddie aimed his way.

Steve blew out a harsh, mocking breath.

"Dustin found me on the way to Nancy's house, where I was planning on apologizing. Had flowers and everything."

Oh.

Steve's tone said a hell of a lot more than that, the raw emotion making Gareth's own stomach roll.

A careful glance showed an equally punched-out expression on Eddie's face, the metalhead having physically reared back like Steve's words had struck him.

"What were you apologizing for?" He asked, recovering faster than Gareth could.

"Honestly man? I don't know." Steve laughed then, a harsh little disbelieving noise. "I just knew Nancy had said--well she said some shit while drunk, and wasn't able to say some shit sober, and I realized after that maybe I--I rushed her or something you know?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a self soothing behavior. "Or that I did, fuck I don't know. She's Nancy Wheeler, she's smarter than me by a longshot, so if she was mad, than I figured I must be at fault." Steve shrugged, like that was a fact of life.

Eddie interrupted immediately. "She's not smarter than you."

"I--what?"

"Nancy isn't smarter than you.' Eddie repeated firmly. "She's booksmart, Stevie. School smart. Nancy Wheeler absolutely owns tests and papers and things you need to study for, and she’s a hell of a researcher--but she's not people smart."

"What?" Steve repeated incredulously and there Gareth caught a flash of bitchy Steve.

The real one, who'd been shoved aside by the apathetic version.

"Have you ever seen that girl get fixated on something? She's tenacious, gets her teeth in and won't let go.” Eddie snapped his teeth, shaking his head while growling like a dog.

Gareth rolled his eyes, but a ghost of a smile graced Steve’s face.

“But she hasn't figured out how that hurts people yet. She's caught up in getting the results. She's not intentionally unkind, she's just--a little out of touch." Eddie flopped back against the couch, making a grabby gesture for the joint Gareth now held. “People like you--”

Here, he poked Steve in the chest, before reaching past him to wave his hand obnoxiously in Gareth’s face for the joint (and get smacked at for the effort) “are people smart.”

"That's not--no." Steve protested head jerking from Eddie's fingers to Eddie's face, but it was weak, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes.” Eddie mocked, but it was in jest, proven by the easy, soft smile he gave Steve. “You said it yourself. The kids go to you, man. They go to you even now, when Nancy or Jonathan could be driving them all over town. You get people; how they work, how they tick, what makes them happy or sad, and people are drawn to you because of that.”

“Jonathan drives.” Steve muttered in disagreement.

“And yet we all witnessed the clown car act when all those kids came out of your backseat two weekends ago.” Eddie refuted. “You’re just as smart as Nancy is, Steve. Just in a different way.”

Steve frowned.

“My parents don’t see it like that.”

“Your parents can get fucked, Sweetheart.”

That was pushing it, but Steve didn't comment on the nickname. Never commented on any nicknames Eddie came up with, beyond the occasional eye roll.

Which is right about when the phone rang.

They all glanced towards it, then down at their respective watches.

It was well past midnight.

"Think that's Wayne?" Gareth asked, eyebrows raising as Eddie stood to answer the phone.

His friend just shrugged, before picking up.

"Munson Mortuary, you stab em we slab em." He chirped as he pressed the phone to his ear.

"Tiffy-Taffy isn't it kinda late for--whoa." Eddies easy smile flipped, back going ramrod straight. "Slow down, what happened?" And oh, shit, that was Eddie's "somethings wrong and I'm going to fix it" voice.

Gareth sat up, making sure the joint Eddie had put down was out as he stared worriedly at Eddie.

"Okay. Gareth and Steve are with me, we're all coming." Eddie finished, prompting Steve to also sit up. "Stay there and for the love of God, tell Stewart not to touch anything else."

"What happened." Steve and Gareth demanded as one.

It'd be funny if the look on Eddie's face wasn't so serious.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to break my promise about not going to the lab, Steve." He said, a hand going to tug anxiously at his hair.

"What?" Steve said, immediately on the defensive.

Then; "Why?"

"Because all our darling friends went to the Hawkin's lab without us. Apparently they ran into some kids on the way and now Stewart's stuck in a hole."

“All of them?” Gareth questioned, because sure, yeah he could see Stewart doing it. Could see Grant and even Jeff really, but Tiffany? Out exploring an abandoned lab that had killed people?

On a school night?

"She's gonna give us the full story when we get there, she called from the nearest payphone. Had some kid who kept interrupting her so she just gave me the basics, but apparently Stewart is really stuck, and for some reason the damn kids won't let anyone try to get him from some other door. They keep saying it's not safe or some shit." Eddie's anxious tugging grew as he moved to snatch up his wallet and keys, walking and talking as it were.

Gareth had expected a reaction out of Steve then, but what he hadn't expected was Steve to surge to his feet in a near panic.

"Kids!?" He shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Eddie flinched, but Gareth knew immediately what the jock was thinking.

"You don't think they're your feral pack of kids--do you?" He asked.

"It's always them so yes, yes I do." Steve snarled and for the first time that week, the guy looked alive.

Gareth just wished it was under better circumstances.

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storm-angel989 · 5 months

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Outside The Office Part Thirty One

TW: Valentino, Drugging, Sex.

Enjoy <3

The bright lights of Valentino’s newest club flashed as we made our way across the floor. The music vibrated in my chest as I slid into the booth.

“Water for me, Val. Please.” I said quietly as the server appeared. I laid my head on his shoulder. I truly, truly didn’t feel like being out. Staying home by myself wasn’t an option. And according to my vitals, neither was the coffee I so desperately craved. So here I sat, the sober one amongst the chaos.

To his credit, Valentino gave me the choice- call Lucifer and he could come hang out with me- and by that he meant babysit, or I could go with him and the others. It was opening night of his newest club after all, and as the owner he needed to be there.

“I’m trying something- mi amore. A new business model, so to speak.” He said as he got himself ready for the night. “I need Vox and Vel by my side. And normally I would leave you behind, but giving your…difficult day, I simply cannot justify leaving you alone. And if you’d rather come with us, there is something we need to discuss.” He turned to me and caressed my cheek. “If I kiss you- harshly, roughly, and you see red trickle down from the corner of my mouth, that’s the signal for you to get close to me and stay there. Understood?”

He waited for me to nod and his tone shifted to something much more serious. He cupped my chin and locked eyes with me.

“Princessa. I will degrade you- verbally. I will speak as though you don’t matter to me. Know it’s a lie. Know that I’m doing it because if they think you’re anything more than my favorite toy, you become even more of a target than you already are. With this knowledge, are you sure you want to come with us?”

I nodded.

“Good.” He pressed his lips to my forehead. “This setup is different, mi amore. If you’re not in the booth with one of us, you’re at one of our sides. Got it?”

Valentino snapped his fingers, barked an order and instantly, a server appeared with a glass of iced water. I accepted with a thank you and took a sip as I surveyed the scene. There would be no soul contracting tonight, Valentino had been clear on that. His concentration needed to be here, at the club. He had a job he needed to do.

I sank back against the seat and watched as he stood up and walked through the room. Valentino had a presence- people stepped aside as he sashayed across the dance floor. Bartenders move to be sure they took his order first and foremost. He whispered, touched, spoke and caressed without a single falter. I watched as he wrapped his arm around a demon and led her to the back. I felt that familiar twinge of envy.

“It’s not love, you know.” Velvette’s voice broke through my thoughts. “It’s lust.”

“Does he…contract souls already in hell?” I asked as I watched him vanish behind closed doors. “I mean, I’ve seen him contact souls on their way here. But…”

“Yes. Val makes his money by contacting beautiful demons to work with him in exchange for half or whole of their soul along with the souls who haven’t quite passed yet. It’s impossible to know with those souls if they’ll end up the look he requires so, sometimes he has to contact directly in hell.” Velvette answered as she sipped her drink. “Don’t overthink it.”

It was hard not to, wondering what exactly went on behind those closed doors. I stirred my water and resigned myself to waiting.

“Do you want to dance?” Velvette asked after a few moments of silence,“we can go find Vox!”

I shook my head. “No but you can. I won’t go anywhere, promise.”

She rolled her eyes and lifted her drink. “Yeah because you’ve historically done so well left unattended.”

I winced at the sarcasm in her voice, but chose to ignore her as I continued to study the club scene. Something was different from his other clubs. But I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“Care to partake?” A demon with bunny ears approached and offered me a sectioned out tray. Tiny gold jars. Tightly wrapped cigars. Longer red boxes.

Confusion washed over me. “What is it?”

“No. Now shoo. And don’t offer it to her again,” Velvette snapped. “Or Valentino will hear about it.”

The waitress bowed away. I looked at Velvette and she shook her head.

“Val’s newest idea. Drugs directly available at the primary source. Bit of an up charge, but patrons won’t mind paying when they’re a few drinks in and it’s convenient. Brilliant business plan really.” She shrugged and took another sip of her drink.

Ah. So that’s why Valentino was insistent he be here. Great business venture, but definitely had the potential to be a tricky one. Drugs, alcohol, mixed with his clientele had the potential to be a violent mix at best.

“Ah Princessa. Doing okay?” Valentino asked as he slid next to me. He leaned over and turned my face to his and kissed me roughly. Dominantly. His eyes met mine and instantly I knew.

Red saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth as soon as he pulled away, giving the impression he had drugged me. I leaned myself into him and twisted my fingers into his jacket. I watched Velvette shift her attention to where Vox was, and he quietly rejoined the table.

“Aww, too much, Princessa?” He asked in a teasing tone. “So fucked up on Daddy’s drugs, it’s almost cute,” he purred loudly, his palm resting on the back of my head.

I felt his fingers run roughly through my hair and he shoved my face against his chest as footsteps approached. Curled against his protective grasp, I felt that familiar pang of warmth in my tummy.

God, he was sexy when he was in control.

Voices I didn’t recognize. Valentino’s grip tightened its hold but his voice stayed calm. Easy going. Prices were discussed. Names of women I didn’t know. Or drugs. It was hard to tell sometimes.

“She available?” I heard one of them say. “Could cut a sweet deal for you in exchange for Lucifer’s little bimbo.”

I felt his grip tighten on me, but his tone stayed calm. Steady.

“She isn’t part of the deal, amicico,” came his cool reply. “I don’t share my most favorite toy.”

They laughed at his words as the tone of conversation shifted. Eventually I heard the footsteps recede and Valentino’s hands relax.

“Are you ready to go home, mi amore?” He purred. “Let Daddy take care of you? That’s it now, keep your head tucked in, babydoll. You’ll need a nap before we end tonight.”

I felt him lift me and pause. The volume of his voice dropped and his tone shifted.

“Vox? Take her out. Now. Vel, I need you with me.”

Wait what?

I lifted my head up as I was shoved into Vox’s arms. He set me down and took my hand in his as he pushed his way down the side, cutting a path in a hallway I didn’t realize existed. I looked back, and caught a glimpse of Valentino across the dance floor, wings out, eyes blazing red, matching Velvette’s. The music stopped and tense silence filled the air. Something stirred inside me- a mix of terror and the desire to run to Valentino. To wrap myself up in his powerful grasp and let him pin me against the wall. Vox tugged my wrist and I looked to him. His own eyes blazed the same fiery crimson. I stopped.

“Come on, move. Now.” He growled. Sensing my discomfort, his voice softened. “It’s still me, kid. I won’t hurt you.”

The sound of gunshots and I picked up the pace. An open door. I felt the cool air hit my face as the outside air surrounded me.

“What was that?” I asked once we were seated in the limo. “Is Val okay?”

“Val will be fine. The men who tried to double cross him? Meh. Not so much.” He kept his gaze down as he punched a few things in on his phone. “They’ll join us in a moment. Vel and Val I mean, not the guys.”

True to his word, the limo door opened moments later. Velvette stepped in, seeming unruffled, followed by Valentino.

“Good acting, Princessa.” Valentino said with a kiss. “I was convinced I accidentally slipped you a little something extra.”

I didn’t respond but let myself lean into him. He put a comforting arm around my shoulder and I half listened as he filled Vox in on the details of the incident.

As I snuggled into bed next to him that night, he ran a hand down my back.

“Are you okay Princessa? You’ve been quiet since we left. Talk to me, mi amore.”

“Do you three, do you feed off each other? Your power? Your energy?” I asked finally. “The Valentino in his demonic form earlier was still soft and cuddly, and fluffy and your wings made me warm and safe and sleepy and then I saw all three of you in the club and your eyes- Val, your eyes matched that same blazing red and I, I just…”

He listened quietly as I struggled to find the words that expressed the intimidation I felt.

“I know none of you would hurt me, but you…you three really are dangerous.” I finished. Unsure of what else to say, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into him. “It’s kind of hot.”

To my surprise, he laughed.

“Hot, Princessa? Is that what this is about?” He asked as he titled my chin up.

I saw his teeth sharpen as his grin widened. I pressed my lips back against him and buried my fingers in the fluff that appeared around his neck. He pushed me on my back and his wings sprang fourth.

“I would never hurt you in this form, Princess as. But fuck you? Would be a first for both of us. And I don’t have very many of those left.”

I let out a moan as he kissed down my neck. His tongue toyed with my nipples and I felt myself buck against him. He laughed and pulled me up, and forced me to sit on his lap as he continued to toy with my body.

“Fuck, Val!” I breathed as I pressed my hips against him. My fingers buried themselves in his fluff as he pushed a single finger into me, his teeth sinking ever so gently into my collarbone. Euphoria flooded my body and I felt myself grow wetter with each stroke.

“Fuck, Val!” I moaned. It was the most amazing feeling that flooded my body- almost as if I was floating. I felt every muscle relax. An innate desire washed over me. I needed him in me, fuck I wanted him to put his babies inside me.

“Val, I want cock- your cock!” I moaned.

A grin widened across his face. “Oh? Is that so, princessa?”I felt his fingers roughly grab my hair and he laid back as he pushed my face down towards his lip. “You want my cock so bad? Open that pretty mouth of your and get busy, princessa.

I obeyed and he slid his cock down my throat. He groaned as he listened to me choke on his length. His hands kept tension, tugging my hair as he demanded for me to go faster, yanking my head up and down his cock.

“Swallow every god damn drop,” he commanded.

The implied or else turned me on more than the actual threat. I felt him explode and hastily, I got to work on kissing, sucking and cleaning up every inch of him, being sure to leave not a single drop behind.

As soon as he was sufficiently pleased, his fingers twisted into my hair and he yanked my head up, rolling me on my back as he pinned me to the bed.

“That’s my good girl,” he purred, “ are you ready for your reward?”

He pushed himself deep into me and I arched my back as I dug my nails into his skin. His wings fluttered above us, creating a blanket of shadows. I pushed my hips against him as that innate desire flooded deeper into me. I needed him, I needed his come in my belly.

“Valentino,” I moaned. It didn’t quite sound right but I didn’t care. “Please, Val- I need you to come in me! Fill me, please Valentino!”

He stopped mid thrust. I groaned in frustration and clawed at his back as felt him pull out immediately.

“Princessa?” He asked as he grabbed my chin and forced me to look in his eyes. Concern washed over his features. “Oh, fuck.”

“Why did you stop?!” I begged as I wrapped my arms around him and ground my hips against him. “Val, come on!”

“Oh, no no no. Shit. Fuck.” He cursed as he pushed me down, his eyes carefully studying my body.

I felt myself giggle. “See something you like?”

I felt his fingers trace where he had bitten my collarbone. I looked down and saw red liquid pour down. Blood maybe? It didn’t hurt so I didn’t care. The burning in my belly needed him, demanded him, growing stronger with each passing second. I ground my hips against him roughly, hoping he would fulfill my desperate desire.

“More Val, I want you. Inside me, now!” I demanded as I bounced on his lap. “Come on, Val!”

“No, Princessa.” He said sharply. He set me on the bed and I watched as he slammed the bathroom door. When he came out a few moments later, he wore his black sweatpants.

I reached for him and he shook his head. “I’m sorry princess. I should have known better.” He kissed the top of my head and pushed me down. I felt his fingers side into me and I bucked my hips against the feeling, desperate for any satiating touch.

“Val, I want cock- your cock!” I groaned as I ground against his fingers.

“Not tonight, you’re too fucked up.” He said calmly. “And not until I get some answers. Breathe for me, Princessa.”

I groaned and pushed myself against him. “Deeper, Val!! I need you.”

His thumb pushed against my clit and I came instantly around his fingers.

“More!” I begged. “Please, Valentino, I need you.Your cock in me, please Valentino!”

Instead of answering my plead, I felt his fingers slide out of me. I groaned in frustration, but felt something slide deep into me, replacing the feeling of his fingers with a pleasant vibration. He settled me on his lap and his wings surrounded me.

“You’re not going to settle for awhile, princessa. But please, try.” He said softly as I squirmed against his chest. “I’ll take the toy out if you feel asleep.”

“Noo, I want your cock, Val” I please. Words began to spill out as I desperately attempted to convince him to fuck me. “I want you, in me. I want your come and I want to be pregnant with your babies, Val.” I reached down to touch the vibrator inside me, but his hand caught mine. “I want to be big and round and pregnant! Please, Val!”

“No. Not yet, Princessa. Someday, maybe.” He replied as he shifted me. “Not now. Not like this.”

I groaned. “but Val!!”

“Whine all you want with that sweet little mouth, but it won’t change a damn thing.”

Like hell it wouldn’t. Under his wings, I reached up and grabbed at the fluffy around his neck. He grabbed my wrist and sat up. I could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Princessa this is not you. Stop. I will leave you in bed alone tonight if you can’t get yourself under control. Come on, please?”

“Aww, Daddy, is that a command?”

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re too out of it for this.” He pushed himself up and set me down next to him and pushed me down on the bed.

“Val!” I whined.

“No. I love you too much, Princessa.”

I watched his form slowly go back to his normal self. He dug through the drawer and came up with two long silk ties. I felt my heart beat faster.

“Yes, tie me down and fuck me!” I moaned as he lifted my wrist up and tied me against the bed frame. I whined again as another hot coil of desire shot through my belly. “I want you Val!”

“I know. And I think I know why. Which is why I’m putting you in restraints. I’m not leaving you and I can’t have you completely and totally feral.” He replied as he tied the knot tighter.

I felt myself explode again around the toy at the feeling of his touch on my skin. I moaned as that feeling grew stronger and I pushed against the silk.

“Valentino!” I moaned as he covered me with a blanket. “Fuck, Valentino!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he replied softly as he laid on the bed next to me, just out of my reach. “I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” I demanded as I pulled on the restraints.

“How we can have kids someday, mi amore.”

#the vees #valentino x reader #hazbin fluff #valentino x you #valentino x wife #valentino #hazbin hotel #the vees x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino smut #valentino x female reader #valentino x vox

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respectthepetty · 9 months

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10 Anticipated BLs for 2024

Since I'm excited for ALL the GLs (Pluto, 23.5, Sunshine in the Wind, Chaser Game, Be Mine, y todo!), I'm making my list of the 10 BLs I'm excited for this year with brief reasons why I'm looking forward to them. In my normal fashion, I cheat my way into having more. All except one is Thai because Thailand loves to tease series three years in advance, then never make them, but I strongly believe these are coming:

The Next Prince

Zee continues to never play a poor person, and a trailer is supposed to drop in the first quarter of this year. I never knew there was so many fencers on BL Tumblr, so I'm looking forward to everyone's commentary on how well the characters poke with their sticks or whatever fencers do.

Jack & Joker: U Steal My Heart

It's a heist BL. It has YinWar. It has Prom x Mark. It has Bonz. It's Dee Hup House (we got beef). It's Director Tee and probably Cinematographer Jim. It might have color coding. There is not one thing I can find wrong with this series. It's perfect on paper, and I'm praying that translates well to the screen.

Spare Me Your Mercy

Like that lady in Titanic, I've been waiting 80 years for this series (give me a minute to cry about MaxTul), and it's finally near! I'm getting JJ & Tor in a Dr. Sammon piece, who I feel writes "Be Gay, Do Crime" very well, so I'll be forgiving any of these two gays' wrongs including murder, attempted murder, contemplating murder, and murdering each other in the bedroom (ahhhh!).

Wandee Goodday

Golf from The Eclipse is directing. It's about Muay Thai. It has an older doctor and a younger boxer who start off as bed friends (and I think one is actually a virgin). It has color coding. It has me already seated and waiting with popcorn, and I think it might be the first offering that will be delivered from GMMTV's 2024 lineup.

Sequels: Choco Milk Shake 2, Unintentional Love Story 2, My Doctor

Is Choco Milk Shake 2 gonna finally give me poly? Probably not, but I hope My Doctor brings the same heat the side couple did in Be Mine, Superstar, and the side couple getting the spotlight in Unintentional Love Story 2 will also make my side-couple-supremacy heart very happy this year.

Live in Love

It looks color coded. That's it. That's the reason. Keeping my expectations low because it might not get made since this is Thailand's favorite game.

Red Peafowl

The character reveals were absolute chaos, so I'm hoping that chaos transfers over to the actual series because it can either be a mess or a masterpiece, but it cannot be mediocre with Max, Cooheart, Boun, Mek, and Yacht as supports. Plus, it has color coding and a bird that is quickly becoming a Tumblr god.

Love Upon a Time

Even though it is a historical queer series, which means it could be sad, I think Domundi will keep the sass, so James' character won't be crying in the 1600s club but instead eating fruit seductively to encourage Net's character to put his homosexual skills into practice instead of simply theorizing about them, which is something I need more of. Plus, it has color coding.

Love Puzzle

This is one that might not get made because . . . Thailand. It's connected to Chains of Heart, but I don't care because the cast looks good and Poppy is gonna finally get to kiss a homie. If this doesn't get made, I will cry thug tears. It's 2024. Poppy deserves to kiss a man already.

My Stand-In

I don't understand the plot, but it doesn't matter because Pepzi and Khom are directing, and in case that means nothing, those were KinnPorsche's directors! Then, it has Up and Poom as the leads, plus a stacked supporting cast. I'm here. I'm queer. And I'm ready to be served.

Honorable Mention: Peaceful Property

It's about los espookys and features Tay and New. Will it be a QL? The streets are saying no, but all the characters are color coded, and all's I'm saying is what would be the point of color coding them if I ain't getting a BL main couple and a GL side couple? It's already canon to me.

Bonus: MosBank & JoongDunk

MosBank had like eighty projects announced for 2023, and I got NONE! Big Dragon 2, Big Dragon: The Movie, SunsetxVibes, where you at?! Y Journey: Stay Like a Local and Club Friday do not count. I don't want to watch their horror movie, but gosh darnit, if that comes out before everything else, I just might.

And I am a JoongDunk fan first, and a human second. Give my boys a gym BL already, GMMTV!

#10 Anticipated BLs for 2024 #I've made my list #and I'm checking it twice #thai bls #I'm excited for ALL the gls

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feyhunter78 · 4 months

Text

Chapter Eight - Jon's true parentage comes to light and King's Landing comes under attack.

Ch 9

Jon reads the letter, again and again, looking up at you, who has your hands clasped in front of you, and Lord Tyrion who waits patiently.

“I am a Dayne?” He asks, unable to believe the words written in his father’s handwriting.

“Jon Dayne, the only living child of Arthur Dayne and Lyanna Stark, third in line to the seat of Starfell behind your cousin Edric, a boy of four and ten, and your father” Tyrion reiterates.

Jon shakes his head, he is a Stark, Ned Stark’s bastard, he cannot be a Dayne. “No, I cannot be, it is a mistake.”

You bite your lip and step forward reaching for him. “Jon…”

“It is true, we could send you to Dorne to ask your aunt herself. Tyrion says, jerking his head towards the door.

Jon folds the letter and shoves it in his pocket. “I cannot simply flee to Dorne, not while my father and sister are still in danger.”

You take another step towards him, but your father holds you back. “That is why you must act in accordance with our plan, a marriage must take place. A Tyrell women must be made queen.”

Jon looks at him, cold fear filling his chest. Remembering how you looked when you opened the door to your father’s solar and bid him to enter. Your eyes were red and puffy, tear tracks down your cheeks. He does not want to marry a Tyrell; he wants to marry you. “I will not marry a Tyrell, I will not marry for the throne, I have no claim to it.”

Finally, your father allows you to go to him and you take his hand. “You do not have to, Robb will marry the Tyrell, he will be king.”

There is a newfound confidence blooming in him, and he takes your hand, the one already holding his and presses it to his lips, letting it linger, his eyes meeting yours burning with a new heat. “Then I shall do as my lady commands.”

The flustered expression that flits across your face delights him, and he turns your hand over to press his lips to your palm, then your inner wrist, directly over your pulse point.

Tyrion coughs sharply. “No one else in the Keep besides us and Lord Varys knows of your true identity, and it must remain that way. You are still a bastard in the eyes of the court, your actions must reflect that.”

You reluctantly break away from Jon. “But away from the eyes of the court?”

Tyrion sighs heavily. “Dayne, do you wish to court my daughter?”

Gods yes. Jon thinks, all his dreams that he had squashed down and locked away coming to the forefront of his mind. “Yes, I do.”

“Fine, I will allow it, provided you two do not ruin everything that is in the works. The weight of this plan is indescribable, the secrecy needed indefinable. All those fanciful dreams I can all but see running through your head can be crushed with one small mistake.”

It is not as if it is torture to act as he once did, to stand so close and yet so far from you, unable to take your hand or call you by your name, but it is torture not being able to comfort you.

You sob as you watch Myrcella depart for Dorne, Tommen himself shedding tears, only Joffrey does not cry. He sneers at you and Tommen, and Jon has the strong desire to break the boy-king’s jaw.

Then come the riots, chaos breaks out, Joffrey is yelling, the smallfolk are starving, but Jon is prepared, he has lost sight of you in a crowd before, and he will not suffer that again. He scoops you from your horse and onto his own, riding hard for the Keep, leaving behind all else, his arm iron around your waist, keeping you close until his horse comes to a skidding stop within the Keep.

You hide your laughter in his cloak when your father kicks Joffrey, yelling at him for his foolishness, but your laughter dies when reports of Fleabottom in flames roll in. Water wagons are dispatched by your father’s order, and Jon dismounts, helping you down from his horse, escorting you inside.

Then comes the Battle of Blackwater, bloody, endless screams, armies from all other the central lands crashing, explosions of wildfire lighting up the bay, the green flash seen hrough the windows of the Keep. You keep pace with Jon as you run towards the Queen’s Ballroom with the others remaining in the Red Keep.

His heart is in his throat as he begins to recognize the scene. His steps no longer meld with the others but squelch. The banners bleed, and though the door to the Queen’s Ballroom is wide open, he can see it there, half cracked, the scent of flesh, of blood seeping into his skin. He halts, grabbing your wrist and guiding you the other way, ignoring your questions until the halls are empty, and he throws you over his shoulder as he did the day his father—Lord Stark had nearly lost his head.

You protest, banging on his back with your fists, demanding answers, but he cannot get his jaw to work, his tongue too heavy to lift, his lips unable to form words.

“Jon, put me down, we are going the wrong way, are you mad?” You yell, fear tinging your voice.

He must keep you safe, he must, he cannot shake the vision, you are wearing the same dress, the same cosmetics, your hair styled the same way as in his dream, he should have known, he should have known.

Jon rips a ribbon from your gown and throws it over a nearby sconce hoping Tyrion will notice it and not follow the others to their deaths in the Queen’s Ballroom. He counts the stones on the wall until he finds the twenty-ninth one, pushing it in he glances down the hall slipping in through the opening that appears.

You are quiet now, no longer fighting him as he carefully picks his way through the tunnels, listening for the sounds of battle. Finally, he comes to a fork in the path taking the left branch and setting you down once he had walked a good distance. If he were to look out though the cracks in the stone, he would be able to see the Godswood. Jon prays the soldiers who attempt to break in will ignore this sacred place and go straight for the holdfast.

“How did you know there was a tunnel there?” You ask glancing around the darkened tunnel.

“Theon found them, he told me about them, said if we ever needed to take Sansa and run, we should go this way.” He explains, leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“There are secret tunnels that go to the Godswood. I knew about some of the others, but not these.” You say, running your fingers along the rough-hewn stone. “So, if we keep going, we will be outside the Keep?”

He nods. “But we are not leaving the Keep, it is too dangerous.”

“I am aware of that Jon, that is why we were supposed to barricade ourselves in the holdfast.”

“No.” Jon says, his voice stern, sterner than it has ever been towards you in his years of knowing you.

Shock flickers in your eyes, he has always been good at reading you, others could never read your true emotions but for him? You were an open book; one he would never tire of reading.

You place your hands on your hips, lifting your chin imperiously, your eyes like jade in the shadows of the tunnel. “No? Why not?”

“If Stannis’ men breech the walls, they will go there first.” He explains, frustration building in his body, why can you not just listen?

“The holdfast is practically impenetrable, especially when the drawbridge is pulled up, which it is.” You say, leaning closer at the end of your sentence as if to put emphasis on your words.

Jon breathes out a harsh sigh, your screams echoing in his mind, he has not had that nightmare in years, but now he cannot stop seeing it. “No one knows we are here y/n; it is safer.”

Another step, you are practically nose to nose with him. “What if someone else were to know about this tunnel, what then? There is barely enough room for the two of us, how will you swing your sword?”

Shouts cut off your words and Jon grabs you, pulling you to his chest, his hand over your mouth. He can hear your heartbeat, or perhaps it is his, your chest brushes against his as you breathe, and he can feel every inch of your body against his own.

The shouts pass, he relaxes and releases you, attempting to banish the impure thoughts from his mind. Yes, he is courting you, but that does not give him leave to act on his baser instincts.

“We would not have to fear being heard if we were in the ballroom.” You grumble.

He often finds your stubbornness charming, the angry pout on your lips when you are denied what you want, he finds most endearing. You are spoiled, even more than Sansa, your father rarely says no to you, and it is only by the gods’ own hands that you are not a worse version of Joffrey.

Though Jon cannot deny, he enjoys your spoiled attitude, enjoys the way you turn to him the moment you are told no. Tommen does not want to ride horses with you? Jon does. Your father refuses to accompany you to Fleabottom so you can buy more embroidery thread? Jon will go, and he will carry all your purchases. A fool from House Royce refuses to dance with you once he learned who your father was? Jon is a wonderful dancer; and he will not relinquish your hand until it is demanded.

But now it is less charming and more…enticing. You look up at him with such stubbornness, your lips in that adorable pout, your hands on your hips inadvertently pushing your breasts out. He finds his restraint has gone.

“Gods will you shut up?” He hisses, grabbing your face and crashing his lips to yours.

You freeze for a moment, then melt into him, your arms looping around his neck, fingers tangling in his curls, as your lips meld with his.

“Is this all it took, My Lady? A kiss? Perhaps I should have kissed you ages ago.” He purrs, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours, brushing against them with every word.

“Oh…” You breathe out, your grip on his hair tightening.

“My lovely lady, my lioness, my stubborn girl.” He presses each term of endearment into your skin, saving his newest one, born from the freshly acquired knowledge of his parentage, for last. “My starlight.”

Your lips meet once more, and you part yours for him, whimpering when his tongue strokes yours, a movement he had heard Robb and Theon speak of.

Jon had not believed it to be true, the reaction they said it invoked, but your response sparks a desperation within him. He must hear that sound again. So, he repeats it, tip of his tongue dragging across yours, coaxing it into his mouth and sucking lightly.

“Oh gods, Jon, I—” Your words are muffled as you refuse to fully pull away from him, voice higher pitched and breathless.

Liquid heat boils just under his skin, one hand leaving your face to grab your hips and pull you impossibly closer. “Anything, y/n, ask it of me, I am sworn to you, I will do whatever it takes to grant your heart’s desire.”

You whimper once more at his words, and the sound strikes through him like lightning. The scent of jasmine, your soft lips, soft skin, the taste of honey from your morning meal, he could devour you, a beast he is for his thoughts, for how easy it would be to pick you up and have his way with you. You are already sworn to each other, good as betrothed, would it truly be such a crime…?

Bastard. The word is like an arrow to the chest, and he pushes you away, guilt replacing the heat beneath his skin.

“Jon? Are you alright?” You ask, going to cup his cheek.

He stops you. “I—I cannot, we cannot. We are not wed; I will not dishonor you.”

You look put out, blinking rapidly at him, and then slowly nodding. “I understand.”

Jon sags against the wall, rolling his head back, praying for strength when he hears you sniffling. His head shoots up, just in time to see you wipe away your tears. Truly you are spoiled. He reaches for you, brushing his lips across your forehead with a fond smile. “Y/N, do not cry, soon we will be wed, we must allow the pieces to fall into place, remember?”

“You will fall in love with Margaery.” You whisper, hiding your face in his leather breastplate.

He laughs, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “How? How when my heart is within those claws of yours? When I see no reason to remove it?”

“She is perfect, the tales of her beauty, her grace, her intelligence, her dutifulness, she would make an excellent wife.”

“Aye, an excellent wife for Robb, she will win his heart with a few words I am sure of it, but there is no heart of mine for her to win. It is as I said, my heart is yours, willingly given. I do not want it back, nor do I wish to give it to another.”

You turn your face up towards him, the living embodiment of perfection, your hair framing your face, your lips kiss swollen, your eyes the dark green of Winterfell’s forests. “Swear it.”

He clicks his tongue in faux disappointment. Here in the shadows he is bold, intoxicated by your raw and bleeding desire for him. If his heart is within your claws then surely your own heart sits within his maw, fragile and beating. “To think I have served you so faithfully and still you doubt me.”

“Swear it.” You half demand, half plead, your heart between his teeth beating faster, trembling in his toothy grasp.

He cups your face, resting his forehead against your own. “I swear it, and may the gods strike me down if I break my oath, if my heart strays from you.”

He feels your relieved exhale more than he hears it, and he lingers, thumbs caressing the soft skin of your cheeks.

“I swear it too.” You say softly, your hand coming to rest on his chest, heat burning through his breastplate, warming his chest. He hopes you leave a handprint, hopes you burn your mark into his skin, leave a remainder of your presence that cannot be taken from him.

TL: @mostclevermiss, @solacestyles, @2valentines, @sharknutz, @idohknow, @bdudette, @pluraldoggo

#meg's writing #that Stark rizz coming into play #finally I let them kiss #jon snow x reader #jon snow x y/n #jon snow x you #jon snow imagine #jon snow imagines #jon snow #lannister!reader

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lets-try-some-writing · 6 months

Note

I stan chaotic Earth but what about.. Cryptic Earth? Like one moment she's chaoticaly obnoxious but the next moment cryptic like the eldritch horror she is scaring crap out of Cron

Earth loves her maker, she adores him. He gave her life, and he guides her when she cannot guide herself. She creates to meet his high standards. He may sigh, but she knows he loves her too. She just wishes that sometimes he would be less strict.

"They shall go forth and devour."

"What are you talking about Earth?"

"The little ones shall follow the path of the origin of chaos. All of creation shall know their ingenuity."

"Earth-"

"G̷̝̀͛o̷̯͎͋̿ ̴̪̮̓f̶̺͍͑̎ó̷̞̟̿ṛ̵̾̉t̴̞̺̅ĥ̷̡̬̈ ̵̧̲̑̽m̷̝͔̑ȳ̷̨̝̚ ̸̰̅͘c̶̪͝ͅh̴̺̖̒í̸̠͑l̵̨̅͘d̶̲͗̋ŗ̸̳̊̌é̵͈̿n̴͔̳̓"

Sometimes Earth thinks her maker may be a bit out of touch. He doesn't seem to understand when she makes creatures that mimic him and then shows their skill. She does not understand why his emotions flutter in fear when her creations ravage one another, enforcing her vicious laws upon all the land. She does not understand why her maker detests her newest and most powerful children so.

She does not understand.

What is so wrong with her precious humans going forth to bring his will to all creation? Should they not worship the way of the Unmaker? Is it not the way of all creation to one day unravel? Humans are her greatest gift to her maker. For they shall go forth and shatter all. When they are done, they shall return to her maker, bringing forth their glorious works and the chaos they have wrought.

But then again, it is quite possible her maker is simply biding his time to praise her. Earth is very patient. She can wait until her efforts bring forth their bounty.

Earth is VERY patient.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #unicron #earth #religious symbolism #gods and goddesses #kinda

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pandoa · 2 years

Text

when you're gone

~where the prefect has died, and he is left to pick up the pieces they shattered~ ~how they cope with your death~

~headcanons~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

warnings: angst, death

if you think i'm going to sugarcoat anything you're dead wrong i am here for tears :>

on the outside, nothing about him seems to have changed. in the mornings, he still wakes up and goes to class. in the afternoon, he still playfully attends club meetings and meets up with his other friends at nrc. in the nighttime, he doesn’t even spare the lifeless walls of ramshackle a glance as he walks back to his dorm. he seems… normal. however, everyone around him can sense that something is wrong. through his fake laughter and sugarcoated lies, everyone around him can see that he incredibly misses you. you left a hole in his heart that he covered up well in thick, scarlet paint. his lies to his friends bring him a toxic kind of comfort. but his lies to himself bring him more pain as each smile suffocates him with every day that passes.

CATER DIAMOND, lilia vanrouge, KALIM AL-ASIM, ace trappola, rook hunt

he works. he works, and works, and works until every fiber of his body begs him to stop. he just wants to forget about you. why can’t he let you go? he misses you every minute of his day and every second of his night. you infected his mind like a haunting curse sent to bring him down, and so he chose to work. to take his mind off of everything you. to ignore the fact that your absence affected his grieving heart the way that it did. you were his greatest distraction, after all. but why deal with grief when there was a perfectly long list of to-do’s to complete right before him instead?

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS, azul ashengrotto, jamil viper, VIL SCHOENHEIT, ruggie bucchi

he sits at your resting place a little longer than he should. most of the time, he is simply just sitting next to your grave, quiet and lost in his thoughts. when no other person is around, he talks to you. he speaks about his days, the latest shenanigans your friends have been stirring, the new shops that have opened since your passing, the inexplainable emptiness he feels whenever he turns around and remembers you won’t be there by his side like usual. he watches as the flowers around the cemetery bloom and wither with the inevitable work of time. on his days off from class, he stays by your engraved stone as the sun rises and sets, sitting beside you to keep you company. he dearly yearns for your warmth; however, he supposes the cold touch of your gravestone against the caresses of his fingertips was good enough.

jack howl, cater diamond, EPEL FELMIER, ruggie bucchi, jade leech, LILIA VANROUGE, idia shroud, malleus draconia

he’s irrational. angry. rage seems to be the only thing on his mind. if you think he made livid choices before, then you clearly did not see him the day your death was announced. when crowley had confirmed that you were, in fact, dead, he couldn’t believe it. wait—no. he wouldn’t believe it. someone as strong as you couldn’t die so easily. he knew you all too well. and from that day on, he made it his mission to be the most difficult and obnoxious person to have ever set foot in twisted wonderland, regardless of the chaos he caused because of it. he doesn’t care if others are appalled by his actions. he doesn’t care if his actions caused by anger affect the people around him. fine! let them suffer! their agony cannot compare to the ache he feels, though. he may be blinded by his emotions, but what does it matter anyway? his heart was bleeding and it wasn’t fair.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR, floyd leech

he dreams of you every night. whether those dreams are joyful ones or replays of terrible memories, he dreams of it all. you cloud his mind like a never-ending mist, and he can’t seem to get rid of you. you were his star in the darkest shadows of the night. however all stars must burn out eventually, and it seems that you decided to burn out sooner than he thought. each new dream of his unlocks an unwanted image of you. images of you and him laughing along the sunlit pathways of his dorm. images of your precious face, rosy from something he just said. images of you and him together—the way it should have been. it’s to the point that he wishes he could sleep forever just so he can see the image of your face and the sweetness of your voice, even if only in his imagination. the moment he closes his eyes, he does not wish to wake up. he only wants to dream of you again and again until even he is sucked into the depths of death as well.

riddle rosehearts, SILVER, azul ashengrotto, idia shroud, trey clover, rook hunt, malleus draconia

he doesn’t believe it. you couldn’t have died, you just couldn’t! what would happen to all the memories you made? the future the two of you would make together? the future you both had dreamed about? it was impossible. you can’t be dead. conflicted emotions boil within him as he convinces himself that you are still alive. that you are simply taking a short break from nrc and would return home to him soon. everyone around him is pained to see him being in such shambles—the innocence in denial was just too sweet of a spell. even as he watched your coffin descend six feet to the ground on that mournful day, he remained chained to the shackles of disbelief as tears began to stain his crestfallen face.

deuce spade, epel felmier, kalim al-asim, sebek zigvolt

a/n: there was one point where i got so into imagining these hcs that i literally could not see what i was writing bc tears were streaming down my face 💀

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subway-boss-jericho · 11 days

Text

Queuing posts for most of my AUs! Check out this Masterpost! ᵈᶦˢᶜˡᵃᶦᵐᵉʳ ⁻ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵉ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᶦᶜᵒⁿᶦᶜ ᵏⁿᶦᶠᵉ ᵇᵃⁿᵍˢ! ᴵ ˡᵉᶠᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᶦˢ ʳᵉᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉˢ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵛᶦˢᶦᵇˡᵉ.

The Spirit Keeper

-Premise- I am going to try so. hard. to summarize. (TW: Side character death(s)) When the sky turns red, all of Hisui falls into anarchy and chaos. The hero that Sinnoh sent to protect them was banished from Jubilife and never seen again- Whisked back to the present, to spare them from the calamity to follow.

Amidst the destruction caused by the worsening space-time distortions, after the deaths of too many to count, Ingo finds himself praying to a god that wasn't his atop the Shrouded Ruins that overlook the now erased Diamond Clan encampment. He offers a plea to Sinnoh, of Pearl, Diamond, both or neither, if there is anything they can do to prevent this tragedy from wiping the region away.

Sinnoh is displeased with the fighting of the clans, of the hostility between factions, and the cold betrayal of the hero it had chosen. It will not simply wipe the slate clean, after the callous actions of the Hisuian people- After their rejection of its help. However, Ingo is a brave and compassionate soul. In this moment and throughout his time in Hisui, he has never displayed these spiteful behaviors.

In exchange for a duty, those lost will be revived, that broken can be rebuilt, and this region can turn a new leaf. The stones around him bear representation of his new duty. He must collect them from all across the region- Any soul he is able to secure, protect from the distortions that would eradicate them, will be given a second chance once the calamity passes. The final condition is that, once those souls meet their second death, he must seek them out to contain them again. A punishment, a time to reflect on their actions. Once Sinnoh deems it enough, then they will be released to the afterlife and Ingo will be released from this duty.

Ingo agrees to all of these terms. And so he seeks out the souls of the fallen- Unceasingly and desperately saving every single person, and with the combined power of their lives he withstands the shattering sky.

They are reincarnated. They rebuild. The nobles have fallen, and there is much damage to undo. They may live their lives once again.

But when they fall, Ingo will return. He will collect them, and he will keep them. He will fulfill the full breadth of his agreement- No matter how many centuries pass.

-Noteworthy Points- Yes. That was me summarizing. This story is so complicated and has so many layers please understand.

Ingo is functionally a Spiritomb, Ghost and Dark type, with the combined life force of 442 souls. This makes him functionally immortal, with a supernaturally fast healing capacity and a very difficult-to-contain level of power. He can hear the thoughts of all 442 people and often manifests them in the form of little green soul orbs. Not all of them are happy with this arrangement, but some people get used to it faster than others. They are fully aware, under no strain, and are not hurt. Essentially, forcibly travelling with Ingo is their sort of limbo- It's not all bad.

Ingo unfortunately cannot say the same, it is extremely rough to be the container for so many lives and still keep oneself sane. His willpower is overwhelming, and it's the only reason Sinnoh made this 'deal' to begin with- Because it knew Ingo would be the only one capable of this sort of thing without bias or prejudice. The calamity is solved, Hisui is preserved, the people get a reasonable amount of mercy (then comeuppance,) and Ingo can be- slowly -returned to his own time period. It is not easy burden, but it will be borne. Now, all that's left is to wait.

(Forgot to mention, the reference on the far right- Spirit Farer Emmet -is a sort of branch in the timeline. It's not the canon way the AU goes, but a friend made it up and I liked it enough to keep it :> The concept is that Emmet also makes a deal with Arceus and basically helps ferry Ingo's many souls over to the afterlife, thus releasing him from his duty. Won't elaborate more, this post is already like 4x the length of all the others.)

If it wasn't obvious, this is one of my favorite main AUs and also one of the oldest

-Links- Artwork - Commission by Fronomeeps Artwork - Fanart by Pixelga1axy Artwork - Fanart by Rudeboimonster Short Comic - Being haunted by yourself

#Submas #AUs #Ingo #Emmet #Pokemon Ingo #Pokemon Emmet #Submas Art #Subway Boss Ingo #Subway Boss Emmet #Spirit Keeper Ingo #Spirit Keeper #Spirit Farer Emmet #Reunion #Side Character Death

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swampstew · 11 months

Text

Raven's Halloween Party

Summary: Halloween parties are only fun if you try and summon real ghosts, especially if you're really really drunk.

Warnings: Spicy! Modern One Piece AU Raven throws another Halloween Party! Let this be a warning to not drink and summon demons, play responsibly ~ Eustass Kid X Female Monster Reader, drinking, ouija board playing/summoning, risky sex, oral (Eustass receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, facial spray and play, cum eating, all the cum play, bit of degradation/name calling, dom reader pretty much. Word Count: 3.3K

Succubus – a demon entity known as one who wanders the Earth that are attracted to and use men. Since Succubi need semen on to thrive, they form a bond with a man after seducing and sleeping with them repeatedly to solidify the bond, in exchange for semen, the Succubus cannot harm, maim or kill the man. The most common way that Succubus find their prey is through dreams, however, on occasion, they can be summoned through other means.

“I ain’t a pussy! Let’s fucking summon a demon or some shit,” Eustass Kid drunkenly shouted in the middle of the Halloween party he was at.

Killer, Wire, Heat and Law all looked at Kid incredulously. No one had called him a pussy and the conversation was brought upon by Law asking the crew if they believed in ghosts. The costumed crowd dispersed around the group and only a few people remained.

Kid yanked off his metal helmet and shook his head, spraying sweat on Killer and Heat. His red hair stuck in clumps but he didn’t seem to care, putting his costume accessories on the floor and shot gunned his beer.

“So what the fuck are we waiting for?”

The party hostess wearing a rose gold witch costume gave them an old Ouija board and some texts she had on occult topics, told the group to have fun and if they left the room in any state of chaos, she would personally beat the shit out of each and every one of them. And they would owe her cleaning and repair costs.

“Why ya leavin’ – ain’t you a witch?” Kid yelled out before she closed the door.

“My magic is not performative and I don’t do summoning’s with drunken idiots. When you’re sober, we can talk,” she simply responded before flouncing out of the room. The sound of music was raised and they could hear the party getting lively again.

Kid shrugged his shoulders and held up the case of beer he pulled from the kitchen, walking towards the group at the round table. The group consisted of Kid, Killer, Wire, Heat, Law, Sanji, Zoro, Franky, Robin, Perona, and Bartolomeo. The Ouija board sat in the middle with the books stacked neatly beside, a large black candle on a tall candelabra dimly lit the room, but it gave enough light to see the board and each other’s faces.

“Can we all agree to play with honor? No fucking around with the planchette?” Law looked around the table but his eyes lingered on Kid.

“Fuck off, not gonna try nothin!” Kid scoffed, crushing a beer can. To seal the truce, everyone shot gunned a beer and Kid complained he wouldn’t do the ‘demon bullshit’ without a drink in hand. In both hands he brought back another double pack of beer and bottle of liquor.

“Gee Kid, hope you’re not compensating for anything,” Killer dryly said, his arms crossed over his bare torso as the leaves stuck to his body did nothing for the crisp temperature.

With an annoyed pout, Perona shrugged off her fuzzy overcoat from her villainess costume but Franky put up a hand to stop her. He took off his overly large coat and handed it to Killer, sitting back down in his speedo and bowtie, in a couples costume with Robin as a famous romantic, gothic couple.

“Franky darling, always a gentleman,” Robin leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Everyone placed a finger on the planchette and settled over the Ouija board. For a solid minute, nothing happened.

“I think we need to ask if a presence is willing to speak to us,” Robin smiled at the others.

“Oh! Okay, hey Mr. Ghost – or Missus Ghost if yer a girl, it don’t matter either way! But if you’re here, can you let us know?” Bartolomeo barked out.

Kid was going to close his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut when he felt a subtle movement on the board, like a magnet was pulling him across the wood stain surface. Everyone without hidden faces looked in utter shock as they collectively felt the planchette move them to the corner of the board. The corner that said: YES.

Kid’s silence lasted less than 10 seconds, “Are you hot?”

The planchette did not move.

“I can’t tell if that’s an answer…”

The planchette did not move.

“Good going Eustass-ya, you scared our guest,” Law snapped.

“Pussy!”

Sanji took a sip of his cocktail, “I think it was a valid question.”

The group moved the planchette back to the center and Killer took the lead. “Do you have a name?”

The planchette moved across the board: Y/N.

“Do you remember how you died?”

NO.

“Do you know where you are?”

YES

“Are you from here?”

NO.

“Can you prove to us you’re real and not one of these assholes playing a prank?” Kid interrupted, bored of the line of questioning.

The planchette stopped moving and everyone stared at it in anticipation.

Nobody moved, nobody batted an eye, nobody said a word.

Then Kid’s open beer was knocked into his lap, spilling through his admittedly few armor plates and clothes underneath the costume layers.

“OH FUCK OFF!” Kid screeched, abruptly rising from his seat, and pulling his finger off the planchette.

“You can’t break the communication like that!” Perona yelled angrily after the redhead who stomped into the adjoining bathroom to clean himself off.

“Sh-should we stop?” Bartolomeo sounded spooked behind his costume.

“I mean…we asked for a demonstration and we got it. Do we want to push our luck?” Heat chimed in.

Everyone at the table carefully considered each other as they waited for Kid to return.

“Well nothing ominous has happened since Kid walked away from the session so I can assume there is a way to rectify this without repercussions,” Robin finally offered.

“Nah nah I wanna have words with it!” Kid walked out of the bathroom, stripped of his bottoms save for a speedo. He took off all the metal plates of his armor and stacked them with the rest of his costume in the corner, keeping the extreme crop top on.

“I think we’re the only ones who didn’t get the Speedo memo,” Perona elbowed Zoro.

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” Zoro shrugged in his monk robes.

“EW! ZORO! THAT’S NOT CUTE!”

Robin giggled, “I’m not wearing underwear either.” Franky let out a supportive cheer with a possessive arm over Robin’s shoulder.

Perona looked perturbed while Sanji pulled from the planchette to grab tissue from the bathroom and clean up his sudden bloody nose.

Law rubbed his temples from behind his slasher costume, “You’re all liabilities. Messing with this board could have terrible implications if we don’t properly end this session. Everyone get back in your seats!”

Wire passed Law a beer and opened it with one free hand, “Chill out, serial mood killer.”

Properly regrouped, they tried to summon the spirit that spoke to them but after a ten minute silence they said goodbye and properly ended the session.

“Well that was anticlimactic,” Sanji lit a cigarette.

“Ittsa scam. I bet serial killer surgeon here knocked the table to make the beer fall over,” Kid sneered at Law.

“I swear I didn’t! You pissed it off with your crappy attitude,” Law shot back.

“One more try. Kid will behave himself, right?” With a kick under the table, Kid grunted affirmatively.

The group tried again. After five minutes, something answered them.

“Are you the same spirit as before?”

YES.

“We are sorry for our rude friend. We appreciate you willing to try again,” Killer said firmly. “Are you friendly?”

YES.

“Can you tell us anything?”

The group watched with wide eyes as the planchette moved and began spelling out an answer.

WANT.

“What do you want?”

CONTRACT.

Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment.

“For what?”

LIFE.

Perona shrieked causing Zoro to spill his beer, he briefly lifted his finger before planting it right back on the planchette, nervously glancing around the others to see if they noticed.

“OK! That’s gonna do it for me,” Sanji stubbed his cigarette. “End it please!”

“Don’t be a pu—” Kid’s taunt was cut short when the table began to rattle. “OI WHAT THE FUCK!?”

“Respectfully, we need to say goodbye!” Killer shouted and they collectively moved the planchette to the goodbye marker on the board.

The table rattled for a few more seconds before it ended.

The party goers looked at each other before rising from their seats, eager to get back to the party. Kid lingered in the room, not wanting to put back on the still wet, and tedious components of his costume. Killer told Kid to hang tight and he would see if the hostess had any clothes or a blanket she no longer wanted.

Throwing himself on the couch in the room, Kid drank directly from the bottle he stole as he let his mind get hazy. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard a light tapping on the door.

“Enter!” he called out, assuming it was the party hostess with the clothes. Through his bleary and smudged eyes, he could see a woman in a pink colored costume approaching him. “Y’got somethin’ for meee?” he drawled.

The figure didn’t say anything but she gently pulled the bottle from his hand and put it on the ground. Then, she straddled his lap.

“I doooo,” she cooed in his ear, pressing her pink corset into his torso. “Want to have some fun, big guy?”

“I like fun,” Kid grinned stupidly. “Like yer costume – what are ya…uhh demon fairy??” his fingers curled around the horns sprouting from her scalp. “Feels real, you a makeup artist or something?”

She didn’t answer, only quietly purred and pressed herself intimately closer to him, shamelessly rubbing herself softly against his crotch. He wasn’t not interested. He was always down for a quickie. His hands moved down to cup her near-bare ass. The short shorts she was wearing scarcely covered her cheeks but he loved the plump feeling in his hands as he squeezed.

“What’s your name?” he husked, answering her rutting with his own.

“Y/N.”

That made him pause, the name sounded familiar but in that moment, drunk and horny were fighting for dominance in his mind. The fighting ceased as Y/N pressed soft lips against his and he answered with eagerness.

“’sa pretty name,” he groaned as his speedo felt unbearably tight. “I’m Kid.”

“I know,” she whispered in his ear before kissing down his jaw. “Had my eye on you from the moment I saw you,” she nipped his neck.

“Been watching me all night?”

“Not all night but I plan to keep you for the rest of it,” she giggled.

“Sounds good to me,” he thrusted his tongue down her throat as he pulled his cock free of its confines, slowly jerking himself as the mysterious woman humped his muscled thigh. He could feel hot wetness leak through the sheer fabric as she moaned into his ear.

He didn’t have to prompt her, she slid down off his lap and started licking and kissing his cock before taking him in her hands and blowing him. Kid let his head hang on the cushion as Y/N bobbed up and down on him, enjoying the impromptu blowjob. The thrill of someone walking in on them high.

He didn’t care.

Kid grabbed the back of her hair and pushed her face down until she was gagging. He allowed himself a few more shallow thrusts before popping her off and bringing her mouth to his. As he desperately kissed her, his free hand ripped the seam of her shorts freeing her juicy pussy. His fingers pumped into her hot cunt as she whimpered into his mouth.

“Is not enough!” she finally whined, bouncing desperately on his fingers. “Need your cock!”

“Then sit on it, slut!” he growled, pulling his fingers out and aligning his cock to her entrance. Kid was left gaping as she slammed her hips down, sheathing him completely. She let out a pleased cry.

“So fffuuuullll,” she moaned. Grinding herself on him, she kept his head at an angle with her fist in his hair, smothering his lips with her own. Kid struggled where to grab her, wanting to feel and pinch all of her at once but settled for smoothly gliding his hands around her body and giving generous squeezes over his favorite areas.

Each squeeze elicited a honeyed moan from the demon fairy woman, each moan accompanied by a rabid binge of slamming her hips flush to him, her walls squeezing his cock in a vice grip. With a snarl, his fingers dug into her skin to anchor himself from finishing so quickly, he stilled his hips but that didn’t stop her as she fucked him even faster.

“Iiiii neeeeeedddd yoooouuuuuu,” she wailed, pressing herself down on him as much as she could, grinding on him to deepen his reach. “PPPLLLLEEEEEAAAAAASSSSSEEEEE!!!”

With a burst of stamina, Kid grabbed her hips and rapidly thrust upwards overtaking her pace. That tipped her into a scream as she clamped on him tighter than before, her walls convulsed eerratically.

“OOHH – FUCK!” Kid breathed through his nose as he came inside her while she kept grinding on him. Like she was milking him. Using him. Not that he was complaining as he shut his eyes and let it happen, lightly grunting as the pleasure shot through him with each rope. Feeling the stickiness against her walls as it started to flow down.

“Do I need to buy you Plan B or somethin?”

Y/N giggled, “No, it’s ok. I can’t get pregnant.”

“Ah birth control?”

“Sure.”

“Cool,” he sighed, helping her move off him. She settled on the ground between his legs, and to his shock began licking his cock clean of the leftover seed that had dripped on him. He found that real fucking hot. Could feel himself eager for round two as her lips pursed around his tip, popping off with a crisp sound.

“I knew you’d have a big dick,” she smiled, moving to sit on his lap. Her thigh kept his cock upright. She moved her fingertips over the head when she saw some cum bead at his slit, “Wanna be fuck buddies? I have a high libido and I’m hoping you can match that.”

A line of drool spilling from his open mouth as he felt hypnotized under her touch. Nodding, “I’ll leave you exhausted and bruised up if you want.”

“I want my brains fucked out. Daily,” she said, forming a fist and giving him one full stroke. He keened into her hold, needy for more. “Whenever I want.”

“Put me on your speed dial.”

She started a lazy but firm pace, “I’m into a lot of things, I need a brave man.”

“I’ll teach you things you’ve never heard of,” Kid husked.

Y/N tripled her pace, stopping to twirl around his tip a few times and smearing more precum down his shaft.

“I don’t want you fucking anyone else. I’ll cut your dick off.”

“Jealous kind eh? That’s fair I suppose. Same goes for you, or are you a dirty whore who likes to be used by a lot of hot guys?”

She held him by the base of his cock, with her free hand she tugged on his sack tautly, “And girls. I’m down for monogamy. I prefer it actually. We have a bond?”

“If I say yes can will you let me cum on your pretty face?”

“I’ll let you cum anywhere you want, anytime you want. I crave your cum. In me. On me. Oozing out of my holes,” she gave his sack a twitch of a tug before letting go, and fisted his cock until it was deep red.

Y/N let him take control of his orgasm as his hand replaced hers, jerking off furiously as she settled in front of him with her eyes closed and her mouth wide open.

With shaky groans, Kid shot all over her face, fascinated by the way the ropes dangled in thin strands as they fell from the peaks of her cheek, nose, and chin, drizzling downwards. He watched through lidded eyes as she licked around her lips, seeing the creamy seed spread on her tongue and slide down her throat. The way she smeared the cum on her face with her fingers and then lapped it off her hands had him hard all over again.

Her hot mouth was on him immediately and for the first time in his life, Eustass Kid let out a whimper at the overstimulation. Y/N pushed him back into the couch and mounted him once more.

The Halloween party had reached its peak and the house was booming with music and laughter. None the wiser of the pleasured howls and demonly groans that came from the sequestered room.

Kid’s skin felt on fire and he felt like he was treading water with how sweaty and tired he felt before Y/N had her fill. He’d never had a partner with stamina that could match his, much less wear him out. She said she wanted to leave the room first. He didn’t give a shit but he was a nice enough guy to respect a girl’s boundaries.

“When can I see you again?” he leaned against the wall completely naked.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll find you soon enough. Gotta establish some things first. See you later, Kid,” she kissed him softly, tied a lanky towel around her waist, and snuck out of the room.

With a snort, Kid went back to the couch and wondered if he had a fever dream or something. There was no possible way that just happened. That NO ONE had stopped by, not even Killer who was supposed to bring him back clothes. Kid had checked before Y/N left too, no clothes had been left in the hallway for him. Looking around for his phone, he pulled it out from between the soiled couch cushions and realized the time.

It hadn’t been more than half an hour since the Ouija board game had ended.

“What the—” Kid was interrupted by sharp knocking on the door.

“Enter?”

Killer passed in with clothes in hand. The blonde, still wearing Franky’s suit jacket, kicked the door close and threw the clothes at Kid.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU NAKED AND ERECT!”

“Met a freaky little demon and rocked her underworld,” Kid smirked, looking at the pile in his lap. “You probably ran into her as she made her escape. Had horns, a towel around her waist?”

Killer tilted his head at the redhead, “There was no one in the hallway. I didn’t see anyone wearing a towel leave the party.”

“She’s hot as fuck, no way you missed her.”

“Whatever, you probably had a wet dream. God please don’t tell me you ruined the couch…”

Kid tuned out Killer’s complaining as he got dressed. Confused at how a dame like her had gotten in and out of the party unnoticed. Masking the caked fluids with beer and leaving an apology note with cash paper clipped to it, the two friends left the room and rejoined their friends.

Soon after the crew left and Kid felt haunted. No one he asked at the party recalled the woman he described, nor her outfit. As if she didn’t exist. Without much energy in him, he bid his friends goodnight as he went home and to bed.

Tossing and turning for a few hours, Kid couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. Not the soreness of his body, nor the abnormally light feeling in his testicles.

With a sigh, he opened his phone and thumbed through the photos to see if he had caught a picture of her. When he found no success, he resigned to himself that it was in fact a wet dream. Before he turned off his phone, he clicked on his contact list when he noticed an update notification.

There was a new contact in his phone – Y/N.

Sorry for the late post but yay we won :}

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