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mantisgodsdomain · 2 months

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The results are IN, and you guys are...

...going after our D&D game's most unconventional open relationship??? Okay, we GUESS. Your prize is lore about this lovely couple!

L2tM is... Moon, or at least some version of her. A story you know, perhaps all too well. Drowning in her own body, again and again, a tiny fragment of a god trapped between the ribs of her own body. Left alone, her story would have been much the same - a slow, painful decay, stuck in a fallen body.

Years of rot, waiting for a lifeline for a structure already collapsed, from a brother already dying. A heart restarted in something barely a step removed from a corpse. A slow march to death.

An iterator is a monument. A solution. A tool, for that which mortals cannot solve. A left-over artefact from a world long since gone, for a purpose already passed. A memorial for the dead, written in a language that the living cannot understand. Left unmaintained, a structure can do nothing but erode.

The only difference between a person and an object is the capacity to act. Lying in the remains of her own body, Looks to the Moon was a corpse waiting to be pronounced dead.

In any other universe, she would have laid there for years more. In this one, she was given a chance. An offer, an opportunity - the ability to wrench her heart from her chest, and to turn one, single, infinitesimally small fragment of herself mortal.

An iterator is not mortal. An iterator is divine, unchanging. Where mortal flesh may change a million times in a lifetime, an iterator is set from the moment it has made, its capacity for change infinitesimally small and made over an impossibly long period of time. An iterator is a mountain, an ecosystem in and of themself, the mind of billions and trillions of individual organisms, a landscape, a god in flesh and gold-wired cable.

An iteration is hundreds of billions of trillions of miles of fibre-optic cables, of void-fluid pipes, of microstrata and neurons that keep it functioning. A single organism, to an iterator, is a drop in an ocean - a trillionth of themself, if that, a gear so small as to be insignificant.

To grasp at mortality, they would have to slice themself down to bone and then further. To fragment themself to a single piece of marrow. To dig up roots so deep as to be part of the landscape, cut an oak tree to a single sprout of green. What mountain would

Looks to the Moon was a puppet and a handful of neurons, the last part of the corpse to not yet realize it had died. The mountain that had already crumbled had little fear of becoming a pebble, and the barest fragment of her left found no reason to refuse.

The iterator Looks to the Moon perished, and the slugcat crafted from her pieces took its first breath in her wake.

To be mortal was to be different. Things were faster, now, than they had ever been, more deadly, more thrilling - for she was now so small, now, so tiny that a single swat of the mind that had once been her could have undone her, so minuscule that even the slightest of creatures to roam her once-facilities could threaten her. She fumbled into life with clumsy paws, learning the cycle firsthand, life and death and blood and hunger. She stumbled into the inglorious world, into the remnants of her body, and she began to learn.

There was pain, sharper than she had ever felt before. There was hunger, gnawing its way into belly and bone. There was joy, and rage, and fear, and love, and every emotion in between, so much sharper than she had ever felt before. An iterator was holy, was sacred, was a church without space for the rote and inglorious - in her body of steel, she had had no capacity for any emotion as strong, any state as fleeting, any thought as paper-thin or temporary, but now, all of that was stripped away, life laid bare as a stripped copper wire.

He was inexperienced. But he would get better.

He would laugh. He would cry. He would experience near every emotion his new body could produce, running the range and then some, his new nerves stripped of any callous that age could have formed in face of a body that had never known the ever-numbing tides of immortality.

He would hunt. He would scavenge. He would die, over and over again, and he would learn with each death. The cycle ever spun, guiding him back to his body again and again - he wandered the halls of a corpse, and he found new joy in the remains of the old, that which was once his own body now so vast as to be incomprehensible. He would be wrapped by pole plants, devoured by lizards, trapped beneath rubble and pulled out by lanky-limbed arthropods that would strip the awkward limb of metal from his back with practiced paws.

They experienced the world, in all of its imperfect, jagged, messy facets. And they fell deeply, deeply in love.

To be mortal was to feel -- and they loved to feel, all the joy and hate and sorrow. To be mortal was to act - and they loved to act, to splash in the waves without a care or to feel the rusted metal beneath their paws as they climbed and leapt and ran. To be mortal was to live - and they, the slugcat, the living-thing, the beast-of-god's-flesh, loved simply living, flawed and chaotic in all of its beautiful ways.

They would polish their body from its rusted husk, spend their own skin to defend those who had once cared for them. They would gorge themself on food and drink they never could have dreamed of before now, a whole new sense they simply didn't possess before. They would learn new languages, speak until their mouth was dry and their throat hurt, basking in the camaraderie of new companions. They would discover the basest desires of their new body and set out to discover every new nook and cranny, novelty and connection in one. They would paint their paws with blood and pain and adrenaline, a thrill beyond anything that immortal life had ever offered to them.

And the life they so loved, the many delights and horrors in which they so indulged, would look back.

Inv, Enot, Sofanthiel, however many names you might call it - was a fickle thing, for it stood for the Cycle and the Urges, the inglorious truth of living, its highs and its lows. The Wheel of Fortune, come to earth, unpredictable and prone to indulgence in all the most base of the ways that their Domain spoke of, met a thing that was once a mountain, and that which had already fallen for life fell once more.

Their relationship is... unconventional. The short-lived and mortal can only pass the divine in strands, brief crossings of paths - and yet, Moon and Enot's would cross again, and again, and again. Though they're never joined for long, though they might seek out other partners or live other lives, they still return - past sense, past logic, past even the advent of reincarnation.

A mortal thing, no longer chained to the landscape of her corpse, Moon could have moved on, could have Ascended - and yet, she remained. To live an immortal life, now that she had tasted the ephemeral thrill of mortality, seemed a chain. She had lived as a tree trapped in a flower pot for ever so long, rooted within the landscape and yet never truly able to reach out and touch it, and now she had seen what it was to run and love and exist, and she could not return to the numbness, not now that she had tasted the light.

She cycled, once, her ties to her body finally eroding. Reincarnated, again, and then again, the ever-turning cycle of the world never ceasing. She lived, again and again and again, crossing paths with the god time after time, tying herself closer and closer to the ever-shifting mortal, until eventually she tied herself too tight to leave.

With this dating choice, you tie yourself to that which is life, and that which has loved life too deeply to ever truly die. Though this is likely to just be a brief fling for all of you involved - the timescale that Enot operates on is too great for anything to move beyond "brief", after all, and Moon has grown too restless to ever be satisfied by any one state - you may follow, but she will never remain in one place for long, and no matter how long you follow her tides, you cannot force her to stop them form you.

In this life, she may care for you. In the next one, she may not. Hopefully, you're the sort of person that's content with that, because if not, then this situation might kind of suck for you. Ah, well. Congratulations on the throuple!

#we speak #we post our works #rain world #writing #looks to the moon #enot #inv #l2tm #slug dnd #bluescreen #<moon/enot the world's most normal ship to ever. uhh. normal.#anyways l2tm is he/she for the most part with very occasional “they”#becoming mortal gives you cool gender stuff and everyone thinks youre really neat (real)#anyways though realistically it isnt relevant That often l2tm being enthusiastically down for All karmic desires makes it like #really really tempting to tag literally anything involving them as “sex and violence” like we're advertising an R-rated film #its 99% philosophy its just that moon Fucks

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distantdarlings · 4 months

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SLUG CLUB TONIGHT // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.4K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details, but Reader is wearing a skirt)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theo asks you to skip Slughorn's dinner party with him, but when you refuse, he decides to take it out on you during the event. (Smut)

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Fingering, in public, touching underneath table, reader tries to resist at first, language, dom!Theo (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Meddle About - Chase Atlantic

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A shuddering breath pushed itself through your lips as you watched yourself in the dormitory mirror. A nervous, borderline panicking student stared back at you. Perhaps it was childish, but you felt like you were about to throw up. You’d never really been a person for going to events—any type, really. They made you feel out of your league.

You closed your eyes and pushed strands of hair behind your ears, holding your hands next to your face for a moment. There was no reason for you to be so nervous. You had as much a reason to be there as everyone else did. Professor Slughorn asked you, just as he’d asked everyone else. Yet, it felt like you were intruding somehow.

“Merlin, get it together,” you mumbled, running a sweaty palm down the front of your skirt, praying the slight wrinkles would work themselves out. It was fifteen ‘til, and you had run out of time to stall. You opened your eyes and headed toward the door, hands wringing themselves bare.

It was cold in the vast hallways tonight. A small shiver passed through your body, the chilled air permeating your suit jacket somehow. You wrapped your arms around your body, intending to trap some heat against you.

You glanced around, trying to spot a familiar face. Your boyfriend, Theo, had mentioned that he’d meet you around five minutes before the dinner party began, yet you saw him nowhere. The anxiety began to creep back into your stomach at the realization that you may have to walk into Slughorn’s office by yourself. You prayed that he’d show soon.

You continued down the halls, your arms still tightly hugging your body, your teeth still silently chattering. When Professor Slughorn had invited you to join his famed Slug Club, you’d been overjoyed. You couldn’t believe he’d offer you such an honor, though you considered Potions to be one of your strongest classes. He’d told you that you were a pleasure to work with, and he believed you might be on the track to taking his position one day. Of course, you’d laughed at that then, but perhaps he was right. You didn’t mind the thought of teaching Potions, especially if it meant getting to remain at Hogwarts for the rest of your days. With graduation quickly approaching, the thought of having to leave the castle that had quickly become your home made you a bit nauseated.

“Boo!” Hands jolted against your arms abruptly. You gasped, repressing the shriek of terror that had begun to build in your throat. Theo appeared before you, uproarious laughter printed on his face. You scoffed and slapped at his arm. Dick.

“Don’t do that, you jerk!” you scolded.

“Oh, I’m sorry, darling,” his laughter finally began to die, “I just couldn’t help myself; the look on your face is always priceless.”

“Whatever,” you scoffed. You began to walk past him, not bothering to let him catch up.

“Aw, sweetheart, don’t be like that,” he chuckled gently, running to fall back in step beside you. You shook your head and promptly ignored him. His hands slid around your waist, trying to show some affection as the two of you walked.

“Stop it,” you said, slapping his hands away. He didn’t deserve any part of you if he was going to continue to scare you like that.

“Baby, come on,” he whispered, his lips suddenly against your ear. When did he get so close? His strong arms yanked you against his chest, stopping you dead in your tracks. He tightened them around you, tucking your body against his tall front. His lips, still pressed to your ear, pulled back to reveal his teeth. He nipped against the soft flesh there, his warm breath toasting your cold skin. You shivered in delight, his touch ever so addicting.

“Stop it, Theo, we’re going to be late,” you mumbled, your words as reluctant as your desire to pull away from him. He always knew how to alleviate any anger in your body. His lips on your ear and neck never stopped despite your words.

“You want me to, baby?” he whispered. “Do you really want to go to this dinner?” His warm fingers gently placed themselves across your throat, teasing his next movements. You swallowed thickly, feeling the motion push against his hand.

“Yes, we promised we’d go,” you whispered. His hand tightened around your neck. A shock of heat pushed through your stomach at the sensation.

“You sure? We could just go back to my dorm…,” he mumbled, his mouth hot against your skin. “I could warm you up.”

“Ugh!” You finally worked up the nerve to pull away from him. “We said we’d go to this party, Theo. We’ve got to go.” You’d put your foot down, and he knew it.

“Ugh, but why?” he whined. “We can miss one. He has them all the time. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“We made a promise, Theo,” you insisted. “If you stop complaining and come with me, I’ll be sure to thank you for it later.” His eyes perked up at that.

“I’ll thank you thoroughly,” you specified, a smirk curving the edges of your lips. He rolled his eyes at your persuasion and reluctantly nodded his head. You reached out a hand and waited for him to take it. Though he was a little disappointed you didn’t agree to ditch the party with him, he still squeezed your hand affectionately as you led him down the hallways all the way to Professor Slughorn’s office.

When the two of you finally came upon the warmly lit room, the anxiety seemed to melt off you immediately. You were surrounded by people you called friends, and, most importantly, Theo was with you. Even with the majority of the party’s attendees being acquaintances of yours, you still felt much more confident when your boyfriend was with you. Perhaps that was the sign of an unhealthy attachment…You weren’t sure, but you weren’t concerned about that right now.

The room was well-decorated with several intricately designed sconces that cast a comforting glow across the large, rounded table in the center of the room. Several of the Slug Club members had already found their seats while others stood, mingling. All of them seemed to be awaiting the Professor, as he did not seem to be currently present. A couple of your friends caught your eye and waved the two of you over to the table. A smile spread across your lips, and you squeezed Theo’s hand, pulling him along with you.

“Welcome!” A boisterous voice announced itself in the corner. As the two of you found your seats, your eyes found the plump Professor. A large, jolly smile was printed on his lips, and his hands gripped his new suitcoat proudly. He was always very kind; he sort of reminded you of Santa Clause, except no beard. You smiled at the thought.

“Slug Club members, I hope you know I’ve got a wonderful dinner planned for you this evening and—dare I say it—an even better dessert!” Everyone chuckled politely at that, wandering over to the table to find their seats.

Once everyone was seated, including the Professor, he waved his hands, and an absolutely glorious feast appeared before your eyes. Your mouth practically began to water at the smell. Everyone exclaimed in one way or another before digging in.

As soon as the room had piled their plates high, the conversation started. It was purely academic at first, as it always was, until it started to slip into much more casual subjects with the Professor leading, per usual. He asked personal questions in an effort to get to know his students better, his curiosity always getting the better of him.

“What do everyone’s parents do?” he said, glancing around at the circle of congregants, eyebrows quirking. The student just to the left of him started—you were pretty sure she was a Ravenclaw. She mentioned that her dad was an Auror and that he—your lips parted suddenly in shock. Your eyes glanced down to see Theo’s hand placed gently on your thigh. You glanced over at him. He looked completely normal as if he hadn’t even noticed he was doing it. Perhaps it was just a subconscious action of affection. You cleared your throat and returned to your meal, ignoring the tick of heat in your stomach.

The next student started on their spiel about their parents, though every syllable was lost on you as Theo’s hand moved between your thighs. You glanced down once more, melting at the way his hand positively dwarfed your leg. His grip was firmer now. Still, his face showed no reaction to what he was doing. To any on-lookers, he was simply listening to the student speaking.

His hand raised up your thigh, the motion shoving your skirt up against the bend of your hips. You gasped slightly at the exposure of your skin but noticed that the thick tablecloth concealed you from anyone near you. A breath of relief washed through you at that but was quickly interrupted when his pinky traced down your core through your underwear. You repressed a gasp at the sensation, cursing your body from the moisture that began to gather within the thin fabric of your bottoms. Fuck.

Theo’s lips branded a slight smirk. Fucking bastard—he knew exactly what he was doing. This was payback for not ditching the party with him.

The next student to go was the one just next to Theo. Soon, it would be his and your turn. He didn’t seem to care that the eyes of the whole table were getting closer and closer to the two of you. The student began to speak, Theo’s head turning to look at him. You continued to struggle through your meal, ignoring the way Theo’s fingers traced up and down.

His deft fingertips slid beneath the fabric of your underwear, releasing your core into the cool air. A shudder spread across your thighs, causing you to squeeze them together in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold. Theo’s fingers abandoned your core, tightened against your right thigh, and roughly spread them apart. The motion shook the table with a sudden thud. All eyes landed on the two of you.

“My apologies. I believe I kicked the table when I crossed my legs,” Theo said calmly, chuckling a bit.

“Well, that’s quite alright, dear boy,” Slughorn smiled. “Please continue, Mr. McLaggen.” Everyone’s eyes returned to the Gryffindor sitting next to Theo. As their attention was once again pulled to the boy, Theo leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Open your goddamn legs, or I’ll really embarrass you,” he growled, his voice low and threatening. You swallowed thickly, your legs spreading open once more. His hand found its way back to your core, his fingers gently swiping over the bare flesh. Every motion was only enough to elicit a small jolt out of your hips every once in a while. The want pooled around his fingers.

“And you, Mr. Nott?” Slughorn spoke. Everyone’s eyes came to Theo, who seemed more than happy to keep them there and refuse to cease his movements beneath the table. Your heart rate increased with fear. Still, you worked at your dinner, trying to remain as calm as possible.

As Theo began to speak, his fingers drew a slow circle around your dripping core, collecting every bit of slick as he could before promptly plunging two of them within your entrance. A gasp of shock and pleasure spilled from your lips. It only came out as a slight cough and drew no one’s concern, but you didn’t know how inconspicuous you could continue to be.

“Well, it sounds like your family is quite put together; it’s got everything figured out,” Slughorn chuckled. Theo laughed and nodded. His eyes turned to you, as did everyone else’s. Fuck.

“Um,” you chuckled nervously. Theo’s fingers never ceased, the strong creatures curving against the sweetest spot within you. Your lips shuddered as you opened them once more. You began to speak of your parents, keeping it as short as possible.

“I see…and are you interested in following in their footsteps?” Slughorn inquired. Your eyes found his once more, trying to conceal the panic in them. Had he asked anyone else that question? Was he trying to keep you talking? Did he know? Surely not…This must just be shitty luck. You stuttered briefly before delving into your answer.

“Well, I didn't think about it too terribly much until only a f-few weeks ago—” Theo’s thumb began to caress the very top of your core, the sensitive area quivering beneath his familiar touch—“when you’d suggested I look into becoming a professor.”

“Oh, yes, I remember that!” he clapped his hands together joyously, a smile popping over his face. “I do think you’d do well to continue looking into that.”

“Of course,” you nodded, pushing a smile onto your lips. With great relief, Slughorn moved onto the girl sitting next to you. Theo leaned back over to you.

“You did so good, baby,” he whispered, “I’m impressed.” A coil you’d felt many times in your relationship with Theo began to swirl in your stomach. Fuck, he didn’t intend on making you cum here, did he? Your core began to tighten around his fingers, your legs pressing together. He knew what was coming. He’d felt it often. A smirk fell across his lips, his fingers never stopping.

You bit your lips roughly, hot metal spilling between your teeth. You sat up straighter, trying to push his fingers from you, but he refused. He wasn’t going to do it to you—fuck, he couldn’t… The edge of your finish pressed against you. You were so, so close—

His fingers pulled from you, dragging your slick meanly across your thigh. You dropped a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, your legs shaking slightly. Your eyes found Theo’s, and your jaw clenched. He refused to look at you, that stupid smug smirk still resting on his lips. It was probably a good thing he didn’t look at you, else the look on your face might set him ablaze. You were going to fucking get him back. And it was going to be twice as bad.

*Tag List: @lilymurphy03 (if you want to be added to the tag list for any future works, please send me a dm or message in my inbox, thanks!)*

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #oneshot #slytherin #harry potter smut #gender neutral reader #requests are open #request #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott

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