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panchatea · 1 year

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POWDER ROOM BUSINESS - Gynophobia

ChaCha Story Commissions

IREH (Cho Seo Young) x Male Reader

Trigger Warning: Violence, Drugs, Schoolplace Bullying etc…

Tags: Femdom, Blowjob, Piss, Smut, Non-con, Edging, Purple Kiss, Ireh, Swan, HighSchool

WORD COUNT: 6674

A/N: Hi! I'm freshly out of hiatus so yeah I'm rusty... but yeah this is my comeback fic. Thanks again to the person who commissioned this!

support me on KOFI

FUCK.

How did it come to this?

Salted beads that were crawling non-stop down the cheeks. This worm’s eye view perspective seemed to be the new norm now. Those seemingly innocent, droopy, and sleepy eyes weren’t so attractively cute after all but rather chillingly scary.

That cocky smirk.

Her hysterical laugh.

That sight of her black heel that sat comfortably next to your head, down that toilet bowl seat would surely become a core memory played on repeat during bathroom breaks from now on.

The air feels cold… that only if you could call the little breeze that came from the noisy exhaust fan attached to the ceiling touching your bare skin “air”, come to think of it there was also that flickering fluorescent bulb next to it…

"Should I report that to the maintenance team so that they can fix it? Yeah, I'll do that once I get out of here…"

It felt hot, even though the air felt cold as the liquid that wetted your skin slowly evaporated and crept down your skin. Its stench was definitely not pleasing, not as pleasing as her perfume but it still definitely smelled like her, well…

After all, it came from her.

That hot liquid with the hints and hue of yellowish that came out of those pinkish lips.

"Look up."

Just do as the voice said.

Look up.

The image was still blurry, and the flickering light behind that was distracting, but at least the noisy exhaust fan was filtered by that loud ringing.

There was no time to ponder and feel what was left to feel. Here it comes, fuck how could you see it so clearly when it was so fast in reality.

That black heel of hers steadfast and locked on to meet your face.

FUCK.

Again, how did it come to this?

“Let’s all calm down and let go of each other’s hair, okay?”

That was when her contradiction of a pair of eyes first met yours. They were seemingly innocently attractive and lazy. Something you would never expect from a girl grabbing another girl's hair and pinning her down to that lunch table. Milk spilled, and the girl had her school makeup ruined. There were also tears and whimpering buried on top of all of that laughter coming from the girl that caused all of that and her friends around her that seemed unfazed by what was happening—it seemed like a normal occurrence to laugh about for them.

Seriously, diving into trouble like these…

One of these days you'll have to take care of this hero complex. All it ever did was cause disaster anyways. Could you blame yourself though? How could someone ignore such a thing happening in front of you?

"What was that?" She looked up and met your gaze before slamming the girl on that plate of today's cafeteria’s special, bulgogi and stir-fried meat but that was not important anymore as surely that wasn't just gochujang sauce on her but also blood.

Well, if it wasn't obvious enough, it's a stereotypical case of bullying—a SERIOUS case on that note.

"Oh, this?" Another slam, another loud whimper, and another stream of laughter. "Don't mind us and just eat your lunch, we're friends you see… and we're just playing around."

SLAM!

Fuck… can't really help yourself? You are not Superman…

"LET GO OF HER!" You yelled as you quickly ran to them and gripped the bully's arm to stop her. She winced, and you let go just as quickly as you realized you had used too much force. She smirked as she noticed your grip loosened. She went for one last slam that gained a loud yelp from the girl she finally let go, and before you could even react to maybe save the poor girl, her palm met your face.

SLAP!

A loud slapping sound echoed inside the cafeteria. Seriously, what a bitch… That slap packed a punch.

You glared at her, for the first time taking the chance to give her a good look, and this girl really doesn’t look like your stereotypical queen bee bully—moreover, those glasses made her look like an innocent nerdy girl.

Her nameplate says, “Cho Seo Young” and you only met her today, but you were so sure that you two won’t get along well.

“Are you new here? That’s rare, a graduating senior transferring. Did something happen at your old school?” She approached, looked at your nameplate and her hand landed on your cheek—that same cheek she slapped that she was now caressing. “You’re cute… I’m sure you were popular at your old school.”

She leaned forward, she inched closer, her breath… you could feel it.

“I’m sorry, they must have not informed you,” she whispered next to your ear which came with a lick and a little play bite. “Don’t worry, I’m sure that you’ll have fun here, but there’s one thing you have to remember and it’s what Ireh says, is what’s followed and you could never go against Ireh. So friendly advice since you’re new here, just mind your own business.”

“That’s funny, I would love to meet this ‘Ireh’ person that you’re talking about. She seems to be an interesting fellow. Thank you for the advice but I’m kinda nosy… I can’t help it so could you please leave that girl alone now?”

“Sujin, could you please tell our nosy friend here who Ireh is?” She ordered using a playful tone as she moved next to the girl she was bullying and the bullied girl responded quickly pointing at her.

“Sh—she’s Ireh… we’re friends, do—don’t mind us. We—we were just playing, I’m okay!”

“There we go! I’m Ireh, nice to meet you transfer student!” She exclaimed before hugging Sujin who was still shivering in fear and crying. She raised her hands, preparing to hit the girl she was hugging, and swung it but before her hand could land on the poor girl, you caught it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t see any Ireh here, could you please point me to her? I’m also new here so can you maybe show me around, Ms. Cho Seo Young?” You read the name that was on her name and her face turned sour, but you just ignored her and turned your attention to the girl beside her. “Park Su Jin? Sujin-ssi, can I call you that? Remember, it’s not playing when only one side is enjoying and the other is hurting.”

“You’re insufferable, transfer student,” Seo Young or Ireh said from the side before freeing herself from your hold, and intertwining the hand she just freed with yours. She once again inched dangerously close to your face, and this time she went in for a kiss.

Surprised, you couldn’t react quickly, and before you knew it, she was melting you with her lips. Her tongue moved fast, invading the inside of your mouth. She tied, she pushed in… she was pushing in something, and you tried fighting but then it was already too late as the next thing was she had already pushed the thing inside far enough that you had no choice but to swallow.

She broke the kiss.

You tried to process what just happened, backing down a little while trying to figure out what was that she made you swallow.

A drug? What kind of drug?

However, that little time you spent thinking was enough time to kick in. Suddenly, everything felt so light and the image of what was in front of you was splitting. You were floating and it felt amazing.

“Welcome.”

Everything was blurry from then on and at some point, you just closed your eyes and…

SPLASH!

A bucket of cold water woke you up, and there was an image—a person blocking that flickering blinding light. You tried moving but to no accord, everything felt so heavy to move, or was it just that you were too weak? There was also that ringing in your ear… that wasn’t there before and that noise? Where is that coming from? That weird buzzing…

Everything was spinning and felt light. It felt cold, it felt warm, and there was this creeping anxiety crawling on your skin. It felt as if you were floating yet you were sitting down somewhere… somewhere cold. Headache, it felt as if a thousand needles pierced your head, splitting it.

Water dripped down your face. It felt hot. You were cold, you were wet, you were shivering, and you were sweating. There was also this indescribable sensation and feeling. It was rather odd… everything felt fuzzy.

Your heart… was beating so fast. Nervousness creeps down your skin as everything felt frantic.

“Hey.” A voice caught your attention, and the image in front of you spoke. She was pretty, but who was she again?

A zap of pain surged through your head. Flashbacks of what happened? Of who that girl in front of you was? You remember now…

Ireh, otherwise known as Cho Seo Young, was just standing there, with a smirk—what a cocky girl. She was the bully you tried to stop in the cafeteria earlier? But then the last thing you remember was passing out after she kissed you?

BANG!

A loud bang interrupted your train of thought. Ireh had kicked the door behind her, closing it before leaning towards you. It was then that you realized how little the space was. She was towering over you while you two were enclosed by those not-too-tall white walls, and you were sitting down on something smooth, cold, and ceramic—it was a bathroom cubicle.

“What’s this? What did you do to me?” You barely managed to speak.

“Why? Are you feeling unwell?” A peck on your cheek that still stings(that slap from earlier was really no joke). Those lips of hers were so soft, for a moment there, you forgot that she’s a bully.

“You’re going to regret this,” You threatened even though it was clearly an empty one. You’re not going to be doing anything in your current state—even just speaking was hard, you could barely comprehend her word.

You tried pushing her using every bit of strength you had with your arms, but she easily overpowered you.

“Why? We’re only going to have fun.” She pulled you in, tugging on your necktie. Her grin said it all as she tilted your head up using her finger. Her image was splitting, you were lightheaded but you managed to make eye contact, her eyes were cold and angry, and what came after was her connecting your lips together. Once again, her lips were like butter, soft but that kiss… was empty.

The moment the kiss broke, she delivered another slap, equalizing the slap from earlier, and now both cheeks were left stinging.

“See, we’re having fun, right? You’re wet, let’s get you out of that shirt.” Her fingers crawled and twirled your tie before making you shiver as her nail ran down your body through the wet fabric sticking to your skin.

You tried pushing her once again but she just fended you off without any hardship.

Bit by bit, buttons popped open, and she got to see what was underneath. Her hands felt warm as she gently placed her palm on your chest.

“Look at you… wet and miserable.” Ireh giggled as she poked your chest, “Shivering, are you afraid of me?”

“I’m not afraid, I’m just cold and I feel shit because you drugged me.” Ireh ignored your remark and just focused on feeling you up.

“Your heart, it's beating so fast. Do you perhaps have a crush on me?” Ireh tugged and pulled. “You’re mine now.”

"Over my dead body!" You retorted and spat on her beautiful face. A little payback for what she had done so far. A little bit of pettiness even though you didn’t want to stoop down to her level—it was all you could do—stain her angelic face and wipe that devilish grin off her face.

“Fuck you!” Ireh cussed as she backed away and kicked your groin. Your voice filled the room as you screamed at the unbearable, indescribable pain her black heel gave you.

“How dare you spit on my beautiful face!”

Tears dropped from the sides of your eyes as she laughed. You tried retaliating every chance you got, trying to block her kick but it was futile, the pain was unbearable and you felt weak.

“I’ll show you… not to fucking mess with me!”

One kick after another, multiplying the threshold of the pain after each contact.

“I fucking hate people like you. Going around prying into people’s businesses. A hypocrite, trying to save that girl. Big news! Sujin won’t save you! After all, she was the one who gave you that thing that makes it hard for you to move even a finger right now. All I did was give you her little drug. She won’t be saved either, I’ll break her later too! I bet she’s hiding somewhere crying, laughing, pitying herself! Drowning in her own guilt while being so happy because I found a new toy and I won’t use her for a while!”

When she stopped it wasn’t painful anymore as it was numbed from the extreme pain.

Ireh soon ditched those glasses of hers, throwing them down the floor before sitting down on your lap and once again inching towards you, removing what little space separated the two of you.

“You said you wanna meet Ireh… I am her! Cho Seo Young, that girl is dead. I killed her… and now I’ll make you wish, you're dead too.”

“Cho Seo Young, you're pitiful…” Her hands found their way up to your neck and gripped it. You choked as she tightened her grip little by little, as the need for air strengthened with each second passing by, and as your consciousness slowly faded, her image was all in sight.

Her smirk and those dirt brown eyes as she looked down on you told you that she viewed you as nothing more than a toy.

Fuck, she has a beautifully sculpted nose, and those soft supple lips—if only she wasn't a bully, she was someone to fawn over. Seriously, doesn't it seem weird to be admiring her while she chokes you?

"You're so brave, calling me by that name twice."

Ireh opened her mouth and then her saliva slowly dripped from it to your gaped mouth straight to your throat.

"Don't worry… soon enough you'll be begging me for more."

She finally let go of your neck. A surge of air kicked in as you coughed and tried to spit her saliva out of your mouth—some you already swallowed…

She didn't even let you rest as she delivered a punch straight to your gut, making you throw up, and before you could recover Ireh pushed you. Your head bounced off the wall, adding to all that pain as she forced you to lean back, and one last slap before leaning towards you once again.

"What happened? Cat's got your tongue?" Ireh mocked as she watched you wince in pain and gasp for air. With her fingertip, you tip over, and Ireh once again inched dangerously close to you.

Everything still hurts, everything within your line of sight still splits into multiple images. Your focus was off, and that weird buzzing, that flickering light, and her scent… still bothers you. Why are you noticing this now? Fuck, her perfume was so sweet.

"Cho Seo Young, you're going to regret this."

She slapped you.

"Tsk, I told you not to call me that. Forget it, you'll learn soon enough. Open wide~ Here's something that would make you a little compliant."

You could not focus, and can't even maintain eye contact. Eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. Everything felt colder but she was warm when she leaned over you. Speaking of warmth, the spots she slapped, punched, and kicked were warm—more like stinging in pain and aching but they countered the cold.

You blinked and her lips connected to yours.

Her kiss this time was torrid, fast, hurried, but still pleasant yet still empty. Ireh's tongue was fast to invade the inside of your mouth and just like before, she was pushing something once again. Another pill? She said it was something that would make you more 'compliant'?

You tried to battle her, trying to tie knots with your tongues and trying to stop her from pushing the pill in, but to no avail, it was useless as she won. She was successful in pushing the pill to the back of your throat.

"Swallow."

She hurriedly broke the kiss. A string of saliva that was cut quickly as you choked but couldn't throw up the drug because of her hand that shut your mouth close.

You swallowed.

"Good, now don't worry… I'll make you feel good soon enough."

As she leaned backward, trying to rest a little The drug kicked in. That ringing slowly faded out. The headache slowly dissipated. Everything felt lighter, it wasn't cold nor hot, it was just pleasant. You were floating. You tried speaking but giggles came out of your mouth.

Everything felt slow, even the flickering of the bulb seemed slower and that buzzing sound didn't bother you anymore.

It doesn't hurt anymore—nothing hurts anymore.

"Transfer student…"

You heard Ireh call you, but you couldn't make out the rest of her words, it was just her mouth opening and closing.

It was a dream.

You finally moved your body to fix your sitting position, leaned on the wall behind you properly, and rested your head.

Ireh also straddles your lap. Push her because she was surely up to no good but for some reason, it felt like she wouldn't hurt a fly this time. Her touch… They were feathers and they felt pleasant—they felt safe.

Everything was calm.

You could only watch her as she got comfortable, getting rid of her blouse and her bra, and let you feast on the sight of her topless torso—it was hypnotizing—Ireh was alluring.

When she leaned to put her hands to work, you didn’t resist nor really wanted to. She skillfully got rid of your tie and got you out of your wet shirt. Ireh caressed your cheeks, soothed them as if she wasn’t the reason why it was red.

She worked her way down to your neck where she left a kiss after tracing the marks she made choking you.

After that, she found your chest and she really knew where to tease and tickle, sending an electric sensation using her fingers and tongue.

“What a nice toy you are…” Ireh continued fluidly and this time she found your abdomen. She giggled as she feel it up with her whole palm, and not long after, she reached for your groins which she attack ferociously earlier.

Her skillful hands and fingers quickly got rid of your belt, and from there she tugged, revealing your shaft. She grasped it gently and started stroking it simultaneously gaining moans from you. It was surprising how it wasn’t broken with how much she kicked your groin.

Ireh as a person is very contradicting… She had caused you so much pain and yet she had also been very gentle with you, kissing and soothing the same spots she harmed. Now, with her long and thin fingers, she tenderly and caringly stroked your dick to its full hardness.

Shameful, getting hard on the girl who beat you up—turned on by a bully.

She’s enjoying this, and so was your body. It wasn’t the pleasuring she was enjoying, but rather it was watching you fall into submission with each up and down stroke. She giggled each time your cock throbs on her hand and that was enough for her to continue violating you.

“What’s this? Do you like me now? Getting hard for me,” Ireh mocked in your ear after a playful bite. You wanted to retort but the shame kept you from it and the fact that you were actually feeling great. Honestly, just her touch made you feel appetitive and each stroke feels euphoric.

It might be because she was just good with it, maybe it was the drug, or perhaps it was the feeling of pleasure after being beaten to numbness, but that just doesn’t mean anything anymore as Ireh pushed herself off your lap and kneeled in front of you.

All this time, she was looking down on you, and now Ireh was looking up at you yet, it still felt like she was the one in control and those mocking eyes said it all.

There was no stopping her now as she completely removed your slacks—tugged them down for your dick to be out to the open for her enjoyment.

She looked at your cock like it was a toy and like a kid, she didn’t waste any time to take the chance to play with her toy.

Wetness and a touch of a soft muscle greeted your member. You just watched her as she started to lick the tip of your cock while she use her free to keep it steady and standing before giving another soft kiss.

It was euphoric.

Soon her tongue landed at the base of your cock. Slowly, tracing the whole length of it while maintaining eye contact. She trailed up. Ireh licked every corner of your cock like it was a lollipop and when she did reach the tip once again, she stopped and played with the underside of it, tickling it with her tongue swirls, leaving you to become a moaning mess.

You throbbed. Ireh planted another soft kiss right on top and using her tongue, she teased the little slit of your tip.

There wasn’t any plan on stopping anytime soon, as she gave a handful of playful lick on your slit—it tickled, and her licks sent tingles upon your shaft. It was electrifying.

Ireh is a woman full of contradiction and once again, she proved it. She might have started gently but now she was coming in like a lion. Suddenly, your tip met the back of her throat, making you groan.

She stayed down there for several seconds before pulling out and going down again this time with just her tongue. It came in fast and rough, a long lick that traced each inch. Her lips wrapped around the whole circumference of your cock. Her tongue occupied the entirety of your dick, and not one tooth could be felt, and once again her lips finally landed at the base of your cock, and your tip hit the walls of her throat. It was soft, wet, warm, and tight. She held it in for several seconds up until she couldn’t anymore and pulled back, leaving a pool of saliva that enveloped your member that soon dripped down your balls.

Ireh gasped for air and you followed her, catching your breath for very different reasons—for her it was the fact that her breathing was restricted, and for you, it was because of the agonizing pleasure she gave. It would be a lie to say that it didn’t feel amazing, but shame still followed it.

“I like you better this way. Submissive and not annoying.” Her lips met your cock, and you moaned in response, and even with her mouth full, you could imagine the corners of her lips raising to a smirk. “You’re so cute.”

“I won’t give in.” Your body already did. She ignored you as she continued to bob her head, taking your shaft in and out of her mouth in between your legs, diligently blowing, licking, and sucking with her eyes locked on yours while your hardened shaft slipped in and out of her lips.

“Don’t lie to me.” Ireh pumped up and down, stroking your cock’s whole length. She let her saliva drip down to its head, making sure it was properly lubricated—in combination with her handjob, Ireh’s lip once again landed on the tip of your cock, engulfing it once again. It was addicting, it was intoxicating, it was tingling, it was electrifying, shivers running down your spine as the girl you hate went down your shaft.

You were dazed in both a euphoric high and a drug, she turned you into a gasping and moaning mess, and Ireh just cockily smiled before continuing to roam on each and every inch of your dick while her hand continuously moved in an up and down motion.

It didn’t take long before you could feel the build-up in your groin as again and again, you watched your dick disappear and reappear from her mouth. All your nerves, all of your focus was directed to Ireh and the way she moved her tongue—the way her lips wrapped around your shaft.

Close your eyes.

It was dreamy.

Semen built up and started to crawl through your length. You knew it was coming even though you didn’t want it to come. However, your body was screaming for it, but then a pop was caught by your ear and suddenly all sensation stopped.

Open your eyes.

There you found Ireh, her image was a little bit blurry but you were able to make out her figure towering over you. She knew what she did and she was clearly satisfied and happy while your member ached and blue-balled.

“I’m tired, it is not fair if you’re the only one enjoying here,” Ireh playfully said while she smirked putting on a show as she reached inside her skirt and pulled down her obviously ruined panties.

“Don’t stare too much, I’ll melt.” She joked before throwing her panties at your face, covering it which you quickly removed but to your surprise, Ireh straddles your lap, and you could feel it, the wetness of her core as your member brushed on it.

Ireh knew and she just stared at you, smiling almost sweetly while she went in for a quick peck. Which made you wonder…

“Seo Yo—”

SLAP!

“Don’t call me that,” Ireh sternly said as she caressed the cheek she just slapped. “Now, do it properly.”

“Ireh…”

“There, that’s more like it, transfer student.” You were still drug dazed and it was still hazy. Although the slap woke you up from your dreamy state a little but enough to knock some sense from you.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked her. Ireh leaned forward, nestling on your chest. She didn't answer just yet but instead, she gave a playful lick on your nipple and a bite.

It was strange… It was a bite but it was tingling and electrifyingly pleasing, and now with that, you had also realized how her slap didn't hurt either.

"What kind of drug did you even give me?" You questioned, following up the first one as you finally managed to do small movements—one hand to grab on her waist and the other on the back of her head as she was still leaning on your chest.

"Curious? Why does it feel good?" Ireh said as she reseated to see you eye to eye. "There's no pain, right? And this..."

Ireh planted her hands on your chest, using them as support while she started to grind her hips.

“You ask me why?” Long and slow movements, grinding using her hips and teasing with just the lips of her sex. “It’s because I enjoy breaking people like you transfer student.”

“I’m pent up and I get off seeing a righteous person like you fall into this state.” Her slow and long grinding was edging—pleasantly torturous and euphorically shameful. You could only whine with your powerlessness and this only fed her ego more. “I made you feel unimaginable pain, and then lifted you up to heaven. See, you’re not even resisting anymore, you’re even holding onto me.”

Ireh was moaning in between her words, feeling up the gratification of her actions as she grind more and more. Her wet lips were so close yet so far, your cock was aching and throbbing to enter but it couldn’t, edging you as she enjoyed it all—her complete dominance over you, and the ego boost it provided—the way you and your cock were the perfect toys for her, it hit all right

places.

She stopped suddenly, halting everything to wrap an arm around your torso and another at the back of your head. Ireh clung onto you, completely removing any space between the two of you, pressing her own body onto yours.

Ireh continued rocking her hips and suddenly upping the ante to her rhythm—her fast and crazy speed. She keep grinding down on you as you heard her moan and gasp for air as she seemingly decided to just forget about you and focus on her pleasuring herself.

Her nails dug into your back, and her hand clenched on your hair as she ran wild. Ireh didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon. Her breath hitches. Her gasping and moaning continued. She was frenzied, crazily grinding her hips forward and backward.

Her wetness dripped on your member, lubricating her movements and allowing it all to flow fluidly. She closed her eyes, relishing it, giving onto the haze… She wasn’t drugged just like you were but it was clear from your blurry and dreamy sight that she was as drunk as you were.

She pressed her hips, pushed her pelvis onto yours, and ground her hips as she moaned in pleasure. Of course, she wasn’t the only one as you too were a moaning mess.

It was surreal and it was unreal. There wasn’t any penetration but at that point, there wasn’t greater pleasure than the one she was giving you—it was pleasurable and out of this world.

You throbbed, swept by the pleasure, and you unconsciously bucked your hips using the little strength you could muster. It didn’t take long, once again you could feel the build-up that was more rapid this time, crawling up your length, but just like the last time, it was as if she knew.

She stopped.

Her timing was impeccable.

Not long after she stopped, she opened her eyes and made eye contact made with you, into each other with her seeing only a doped man with drunken eyes while you saw the emptiness in

hers.

She didn’t forget about you.

She smirked and laughed maniacally even pulling on your hair, catching you off guard and surprising you. You tried fighting but before you could retort, she pulled you into a hug.

Her hardened nipples brushed on your torso as she lifted herself slightly to reach your ear, licked on it, bit on it, and whispered, “What is this? Enjoying yourself too much, transfer student? What a hypocrite.”

Ireh reached underneath, grasped your cock, lined up your shaft with her wet folds, and with a shift of her hips, your tip penetrated her pussy, but it wasn’t as easy as that as she went on slowly torturous speed.

“Just say it.” Slowly she dropped herself an inch before stopping once again.

“Say my name and I’ll let you feel have it whole.” Ireh let out a moan as her fold slowly diverge and as your cock slowly penetrates her pussy.

“Can you feel it?” She was already halfway and you couldn’t take it anymore. The euphoria of her wetness and her tightness slowly enveloping your cock was unbearable. It was rhapsodic, your brain was overloaded by these different feelings and sensations that were both complementing and contradicting each other.

“Can you feel my pussy?” You could. Its tightness, its wetness the way it gripped your cock, the warmth her quim has as it hugged your member.

“Just say that you want me.” She stopped, and you groaned before taking a deep breath and opening your mouth to speak, “Ireh please, I want you.”

She smiled.

“How about a no,” Ireh said before laughing victoriously as she pulled out and got off you. It was all a trap and you got caught. A honey trap to prove her point and to humiliate you, and she was successful. She made you remember that she was the villain of this story and for a moment you forgot about this crucial fact.

Despite her dead eyes, and empty kisses she still got you. There was no passion but she was skillful and that was enough you make you submit.

The high and pleasure made you submit.

What a disgrace of a man you are.

Her laugh echoed in that small space and her glaring eyes gleamed victoriously. Ireh got what she wanted: make you use her name “Ireh”, make you submit to her, and expose you to what you really were—in her own words a “Hypocrite”.

“Did you really think that I would have sex with you?!” She exclaimed before grabbing your dick tightly, stroking it, working her hand, and giving you another shot of ecstasy as she smugly looked at your face. Suddenly that euphoric dream turned into a nightmare.

Anger crawled through your skin, your heart rate escalated, you could feel yourself sweating more and more, and suddenly you were gasping and chasing for air. At that moment you were so angry but you just couldn’t do anything. You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs but your line of sight was spinning. Open your mouth but nothing was coming out.

Ireh… Cho Seo Young…

IREH,

CHO SEO YOUNG,

Remember, she’s a bully.

“You’re nothing but trash.” Ireh’s palm once again met your face and soon enough after lots of one-sided brawl you were sitting on the bathroom floor. It just went by, you closed your eyes, and when you opened them once again, your head was on the back of the toilet seat. Look up and see her. Guess the drug helped you with that, there was no pain, it was just it.

“You don’t even deserve to be my dog.” Ireh lifted her skirt, and her glistening pink pussy was in full sight. “Just be my toilet, that’s how low you are. That’s where you belong.”

You could not see her face… not fully but you knew, Ireh still have that smirk, and those eyes of hers that looks at anything as if they were trash and they were below her. She sinks, squatting on your face. Her scent grew stronger—that sweet lavender with that mix of musk, filling your mouth through your nostrils.

“Drink it,” she commanded, but you really didn’t have no choice as her lips met yours lips. She moaned loudly at that contact and that musky smell grew exponentially, then liquid flew out. Stuttered jets of her piss, you collected using your mouth.

Its inconsistency was a bitch, some spilled and escaped from the sides of your mouth, and some went astray to your nose, your eyes that were shut closed, and other parts of your face. Try as hard as you can, gather and swallow her warm, salty streams of that yellow-hued liquid coming out of her pink lips.

Pray your neck doesn’t break. Pray you don’t drown from her piss. Pray all of these ends soon.

Once again much obliged to the drug for numbing your pain. Without it, a strain on your neck, and that repeated hitting of the back of your head to that ceramic toilet bowl seat would be painful.

Did time go slowly? Or was it just that her pissing was never-ending?

She gripped your hair and gathered an ample amount of your hair as she ground on your mouth, adding more pressure on your neck, making it harder to catch oxygen and continuous streams of her piss.

Drink and swallow, her piss cascaded from her quim to your lips while some spilled—you couldn’t drink it all, leaving you to question whether you drank more or spilled more? Was her aim good enough to not spill more than you could ever swallow?

Thankfully, liquid stopped dripping from her quim, and relief soon came after. The constant bouncing and hitting of your head stopped on the toilet seat and the pressure on your neck was

lifted as she finally removed her quim from your mouth.

“Look at you, transfer student. Now you’re looking more like yourself.”

FUCK.

How did it come to this?

Salted beads crawled down your cheeks. You weren’t sure if they were her piss or if they were your tears. Ireh was once again looking down on you—you’re now the worm of the perspective and now that seemed to be the norm now. Her seemingly innocent, droopy, and sleepy eyes which were honestly so attractive were actually cold and evil.

That cocky smirk.

Her hysterical laugh.

She lift her heel, and you could only stare and follow it as she sat them comfortably next to your head on that toilet seat, and that image would surely be imprinted forever on your brain—flashed on repeat during your visits to the bathroom from now on.

Ireh was catching her breath and this moment might be the only time when you could clear your head.

The air feels cold…

It feels hot…

She’s silent… wasn’t she supposed to be saying something about how shameful you are? Or how pitiful you look?

That exhaust fan is noisy…

That bulb was flickering…

It was hot, it was cold as the liquid that wetted your skin slowly evaporated and crept down your skin. Its stench was definitely not pleasing, not as pleasing as her perfume but it still definitely smelled like her, well…

Being a toilet seat is hard, remember to be more kind to toilets nowadays.

That hot liquid with the hints and hue of yellowish that came out of those pinkish lips.

"Look at me."

Just do as the voice said.

Don’t defy Ireh.

“What Ireh says, is what’s followed and you could never go against Ireh.”

Look up.

Her image was still blurry, and the flickering light behind that was distracting, but at least the noisy exhaust fan was filtered by that loud ringing.

The time to ponder ended there and all that could be done was feel what was left to feel. Here it comes, fuck how could you can see it so clearly when it was so fast in reality.

That black heel of hers meets your face.

FUCK.

Close your eyes.

The next time you opened your eyes, there was a person…

But there were a thousand reasons why you couldn't make her out properly. Your head was splitting, your line of sight was blurry, etc… but you were able to make out to say

It was a girl.

Ireh?

No.

This girl was different…

"You're awake."

Her voice…

It sounded familiar.

"I'm sorry."

"Who are you?" You asked—it seemed like you were sober enough now. Plus, your sight was slowly recovering and when she spoke once again, you were already able to fully see her face.

"My name… Park Su Jin."

The girl Ireh was bullying…

"Sujin-ssi—" She cut you with her lips. Suddenly pulling you into a torrid and deep kiss. Her lips, they were heavenly but that kiss…

It felt oddly familiar.

And so it was because it was the same kiss.

The same tactic Ireh used to make you swallow those pills of some drug.

Sujin pushed, and she easily overpowered you. Perhaps because you were too weak or she was just good at kissing but nonetheless, she made you swallow the pill.

She was a good kisser.

"Sujin-ssi, why?" You asked after she broke the kiss. She didn't answer, instead, she grasped your dick, stroking it to its full length once again.

Seriously, what is it with this school and its female students who violate their peers?

The drug kicked in and that was when Su Jin finally spoke—almost whispering and not caring whether you hear or not.

"I'm sorry… Please, the least I can do is make you cum."

End.

*******

EYY! HOW WAS IT? I know I'm rusty... haven't wrote for a while since life happened but I do hope this turns out fine... without too many mistakes.

If anyone is curious Here’s a link of my KOFI. You can commission me like this or just tip me (they are highly appreciated cause I’m broke) hahaha I promise you if you ever commission it would be worth it and I will do my best.

#kofi commission #panchatea #kpop smut #reader insert #purple kiss #ireh #ireh smut #purple kiss smut

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insomniacwriter17 · 1 year

Note

How would little Billy react if he couldn’t find his favorite comfort item?

i cannot stress this enough, the reaction is so bad

now, it’s not immediately bad

billy misplaces stuff a lot

he’ll leave his pacifier by his lunch plate or tank on the couch when he goes outside to play

but it usually doesn’t take but a few moments for him to track it down, it’s usually in the second or third place he looks for it

but the day that tank got lost, billy went ballistic

they’d been to the park with robin and eddie (and nancy and wayne), and billy was barely awake as they packed up to head home

too tired to worry about carrying anything, billy shoved tank into what he thought was stevie’s bag

but it was actually robin’s bag, and bllly was too sleepy to realize it

and stevie had been so focused on getting a sleep-clumsy billy into the car and then later into the house that he didn’t notice the sidekick missing

it wasn’t until billy stumbled downstairs about an hour and a half later, teary-eyed and clutching shelby the seahorse that steve realized something was awry

“aw, buddy, what’s the matter?” stevie frowned, immediately moving to snuggle the distraught boy

then billy whimpered the two worst words stevie could’ve thought be strung together. “w-where’s tank?”

“what do you mean, where’s tank?”

“h-he’s in the b-backpack.”

“are you sure we didn’t put him in bed with you? i unpacked the backpack already and he wasn’t there.”

billy’s eyes fill with tears and steve is immediately entering panic mode now “ok alright, billy, don’t worry! maybe we left him in the car. i’ll go check.”

but tank is not in the car and billy is hysterical

stevie can’t do anything to stop the breakdown, and billy is curled up on the edge of the couch sobbing so hard he’s making himself cough and steve is actually concerned that billy’s going to make himself throw up

steve is looking everywhere for tank, and billy feels like he can’t breathe

tank is his best friend! how could he lose tank?!

the phone rings. steve ignores it because he is dealing with a bigger crisis than whatever awaits him on the other end of the line.

but it rings again and again as billy continues to cry. the boy’s face is red, streaked with tears and snot as he continues to break down.

“buddy, are you sure you put him in the bag?” steve asks. “did you leave him at the park?”

“n-no!” billy wails louder, though now he’s panicking. what if he did leave tank at the park? did he leave him on the slide? did he drop him at the monkey bars? “w-we have t-to go b-back!”

billy clutches shelby closer to his chest but its not the same! in a moment of frustration, he throws the stuffed seahorse across the living room, and steve pauses.

“billy, i need you to think real hard. are you sure tank ended up in the backpack?” he asks again. billy nodded, wiping his nose with the hem of his tshirt as he lets out a pitiful whimper.

the phone is still ringing and steve needs just a second to think. “hang on, buddy. we’re going to figure this out,” steve promised. he steps into the kitchen and answers the phone.

“what? who is it?” he snaps, unable to muster up any kind of manners. whoever this was had tested steve’s patience too many times by calling.

“oh, well, i think i might be able to solve your problem,” nancy wheeler’s voice floats through the phone. “you missing a team player?”

immediately, steve lets out a relieved sigh. “you have tank?” he confirmed.

“he was in robin’s bag. i didn’t realize it until just now,” nancy replied. “she’s asleep now but i can bring him by later.”

steve feels his heartbeat returning to normal, though he can still hear billy crying in the other room. “any chance we can come get him? billy is beside himself.”

“understood,” nancy’s voice was sweet. “he’ll be waiting on the front porch.”

steve wastes no time, hanging up the phone without so much as a goodbye before he’s hurrying back into the living room.

“billy, bud, great news! tank is safe and sound at nancy’s house!” stevie reported, and billy pauses mid-cry, his eyes widening.

“r-really?” the boy whimpered, jumping up. “w-we have to g-go!”

“yes, we’re going right now. robin and nancy have been taking good care of him though,” steve promises as he ushers billy out the front door.

the tears don’t truly stop until steve is pulling up to the wheeler’s house, and as promised, tank is sitting on the wheeler’s patio table.

steve feels the tension leave his shoulders as he throws the car into park and jumps out. “i’ll get him, bud, you stay there,” steve insisted.

billy had caught sight of his stuffie as they pulled into the driveway, and he sat, frozen as he watched stevie pick tank up and bring him back to the car.

immediately, billy takes the comfort item and hugs the stuffed turtle to his chest, quietly whimpering as he snuggled tank.

“it’s okay,” steve promises, petting at billy’s hair as he waits for the other to calm down. “you’re okay, bud, and so is tank.”

billy is still sniffling and whimpering when they pull back into the harrington driveway, but stevie is quick to snuggle billy close once they get inside.

they sit on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, billy unwilling to put tank down for anything. stevie practically feeds billy dinner so that billy can hug tank tightly in his arms.

so stevie implements a roll-call whenever they get ready to leave from somewhere when billy’s dropped.

it adds a few minutes to their day, but it saves steve some worry and it makes billy giggle. “aaaalright, is billy here?” “h-here!” “what about tank?” “mmhmm.” “blankie?” billy nods and holds up the small green comfort item. “pacifier?” “y-yup!” “great! everyone’s here! to the stevie-mobile!”

and steve finds himself double-checking to make sure everything stays either in billy’s hands, steve’s hands, or steve puts it in the backpack, because this was not an experience steve wishes to repeat.

#stranger things #billy hargrove #steve harrington #nsap #harringrove #fandom #age regression #caregiver! steve harrington #little! billy hargrove #insomniacwriter17 #blurb #ao3 #the little buddy universe

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acourtofthought · 10 months

Text

Problematic Arguments Part II

Contains TW: SA / Assault found in the ACOTAR series

It is said that Elucien's and Gwynriels are disgusting for romanticizing scenes that are assault /a violation of their person / SA on Elain and Gwyn (kind of ironic coming from the side who claims Elain being kidnapped, then kissing Az on the cheek in thanks in front of her hysterical sister is romantic 🤔 but I digress).

Now I'm not quite sure how us saying it's meaningful that Lucien and Az were there to try and help the females through their worst moment is romanticizing what happened to them. No one is claiming Lucien or Az were having romantic / inappropriate thoughts. The entire point we're making is that it will be meaningful (not sexy) if Elucien and Gwynriel end up together because their mate (possible mate) will have been there to try to offer comfort and support, to help them in whatever way was possible at the time. If someone experiences something tragic, it's nice to know that you weren't completely alone and that someone can grasp even a bit of what you went through because they were there too.

Honestly though? It's weird when some use arguments like this to attack the other side or as proof of our "lack of intelligence" or how disgusting we are since they are then accusing the author herself of the exact same things:

The start of A Feysand Love Story:

someone grasped my arm and whirled me around. I blinked at the three strangers, dumbfounded as I beheld their sharp-featured faces—free of masks. They looked like High Fae, but there was something slightly different about them, something taller and leaner than Tamlin or Lucien—something crueler in their pitch-black, depthless eyes. Faeries, then.

The one grasping my arm smiled down at me, revealing slightly pointed teeth. “Human woman,” he murmured, running an eye over me. “We’ve not seen one of you for a while.”

I tried yanking my arm back, but he held my elbow firm. “What do you want?” I demanded, keeping my voice steady and cold.

The two faeries who flanked him smiled at me, and one grabbed my other arm—just as I went for my knife. “Just some Fire Night fun,” one of them said, reaching out a pale, too-long hand to brush back a lock of my hair. I twisted my head away and tried to step out of his touch, but he held firm. None of the faeries near the bonfire reacted—no one bothered to look.

If I cried for help, would someone answer? Would Tamlin answer? I couldn’t be that lucky again; I’d probably used up my allotted portion of luck with the naga. I yanked my arms in earnest. Their grip tightened until it hurt, and they kept my hands well away from my knives. The three of them stepped closer, sealing me off from the others. I glanced around, looking for any ally. There were more nonmasked faeries here now. The three faeries chuckled, a low hissing noise that ran along my body. I hadn’t realized how far I stood from everyone else—how close I’d come to the forest’s edge. “Leave me alone,” I said, louder and angrier than I’d expected, given the shaking that was starting in my knees.

“Bold statement from a human on Calanmai,” said the one holding my left arm. The fires didn’t reflect in his eyes. It was as if they gobbled up the light. I thought of the naga, whose horrible exteriors matched their rotten hearts. Somehow, these beautiful, ethereal faeries were far worse. “Once the Rite’s performed, we’ll have some fun, won’t we? A treat—such a treat—to find a human woman here.”

I bared my teeth at him. “Get your hands off me,” I said, loud enough for anyone to hear.

One of them ran a hand down my side, its bony fingers digging into my ribs, my hips. I jerked back, only to slam into the third one, who wove his long fingers through my hair and pressed close. No one looked; no one noticed.

“Stop it,” I said, but the words came out in a strangled gasp as they began herding me toward the line of trees, toward the darkness. I pushed and thrashed against them; they only hissed. One of them shoved me and I staggered, falling out of their grasp. The ground welled up beneath me, and I reached for my knives, but sturdy hands grasped me under the shoulders before I could draw them or hit the grass.

They were strong hands—warm and broad. Not at all like the prodding, bony fingers of the three faeries who went utterly still as whoever caught me gently set me upright.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” said a deep, sensual male voice I’d never heard. But I kept my eyes on the three faeries, bracing myself for flight as the male behind me stepped to my side and slipped a casual arm around my shoulders.

I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him.

Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

And later in the series....

And there you were. Human—utterly human, and being dragged away by those piece-of-shit picts, who wanted to … ” He shook his head. “I debated slaughtering them then and there, but then they shoved you, and I just … moved.

And when you were gone, I found those three picts. I broke into their minds, reshaping their lives, their histories, and dragged them before Amarantha. I made them confess to conspiring to find other rebels that night. I made them lie and claim that they hated her. I watched her carve them up while they were still alive, protesting their innocence. I enjoyed it—because I knew what they had wanted to do to you.

By definition, Feyre was a victim of SA and her unknown (to her) mate was the one to save her. Yet after what was a horrific experience, Feyre was still able to think of how Rhys was the most beautiful male she'd ever seen. Then in ACOMAF, we get confirmation that Rhys did feel a "romantically coded" pull to Feyre that night because he suspected they were mates, that she was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen even right after her assault.

Rhys later goes on to tell us that he fell in love with Feyre UTM after she was held captive, beaten by the Attor and fighting for her life. We're also told the mating bond snapped into place for him shortly after she was killed then reborn, after she herself was struggling with what she had done to the fairies.

Someone can dislike the authors writing, they can dislike the message they think she's sending. But turning a blind eye to the fact that SJM has previous taken what was the most horrific moment of a females life and eventually connected it to her mate in a "romantically coded" way seems a bit foolish when you're trying to attack others in the fandom.

The attack itself upon the character is not romantic, it's ridiculous when anyone tries to claim that's what Elucien's and Gwynriels are saying. What is poignant is how the FMCs trauma and the MMCs trying to stop it from happening forever linked / bonded two characters together which in some cases can lead to a meaningful relationship. In each scenario it's the male and ONLY the male who ended up as the one to first go to the female.

I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him. Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face. “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it.

Lucien staggered a step forward as Elain was gripped between two guards and hoisted up (at this point he's never met Elain and hadn't suspected she was his mate)

“That is enough.” Lucien surged for Elain, for the Cauldron.

the king’s power leashed him, too

Elain was still shivering on the wet stones, her nightgown shoved up to her thighs, her small breasts fully visible beneath the soaked fabric. Guards snickered.

Lucien snarled at the king over the bite of the magic at his throat, “Don’t just leave her on the damned floor—” There was a flare of light, and a scrape, and then Lucien was stalking toward Elain, freed of his restraints.

Water poured forth, Lucien hoisting Elain in his arms and out of the way.

In the case with Elucien, it's not that Feyre or Nesta wouldn't have wanted to go to Elain, we see Nesta fighting the guards. But SJM specifically wrote it so Lucien and only Lucien was the one who actually took steps towards her, who was able to break free of the hold on him (rather than Nesta breaking free from the guards), to worry about her being on the ground and to hold her in his arms. SJM could have written that any other way but she chose to make it known that Lucien, again and again, tried to get to Elain, before he even knew what she was to him. SJM chose to have Az wounded on the ground yelling at the King over Mor, Cassian wounded on the ground reaching for Nesta and LUCIEN trying to get to Elain.

vs...

We rushed across the rugs, dodging tables and furniture. I chanted her prayers all the while. Azriel slid back the curtain— Elain was in her nightgown. Gagged, wrists wrapped in steel that glowed violet. Her eyes went wide as she saw us—Azriel and me— (SJM made sure that we knew Elain saw both Az and Feyre there together. It's confirmed in SF when Elain tells Nesta "and I remember Feyre rescuing me".)

And while it's possible that Elucien does not end up together, every single other time a mating bond has snapped into place on page, in any of her series, it has proven to have endgame coding regardless of the circumstances surrounding it.

It was the author who told us that finding your mate is a blessing from the Cauldron and the AUTHOR who chose to have Elucien's bond snap when it did.

In both the Feysand and Elucien scenarios from above, Feyre and Elain felt apprehension towards Rhys and Lucien at first yet STILL ended up with them (which will be the next Problematic Arguments post). So again, anyone using these arguments as evidence of our lack of intelligence or proof of how "disturbing" this side if the fandom is being willfully ignorant of the way the author writes.

#elucien #pro elucien #pro gwynriel #gwynriel #mating bond #anti e/riel

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wishitweresummer · 1 year

Text

Kissies (Quackity x KarlJacobs x Sapnap)

(Karlnapity fic)

Word Count: 914

Warning: This one is pretty intimate, kissy, and domestic bliss-y. (Still a fluffy SFW fic)

This one's set in the DSMP with their characters and the storyline where they are all engaged together. This is in a sweet spot where everything is okay and perfect.

Quackity was in heaven. His body melted into the couch slowly from all the touch and emotion consuming him. His arms wrapped around the loves of his life. His head was turned slightly to the side as he matched the pace of Karl's sweet kissing. They both smiled into it, Quackity's a little twitchy-ier. Sapnap's mouth was a little more mischievous. He really should be sucking on Quackity's neck, but instead he kept getting distracted with his want to make him squirm. Slipping in ticklish little smooches and nibbles.

It teetered on the edge of torment, but enough that Quackity could still hold back from letting any embarrassing giggles out.

"You're so squirmy.", Karl murmured amusedly against his lips, not yet aware of his other partner's playful mouth driving Quackity a little crazy. The acknowledgment drew a soft whine from his lips. He thought he'd been keeping his reactions under wraps better.

"He's just so ticklish, I can't help it.", Sapnap spoke up, all too aware of the effect of his words.

"Oh are we tickling him now?", Karl trilled excitedly. He smirked as Quackity pouted at the sudden lack of lips against him.

"No...we're kissing him.", Quackity informed the two, speaking in third person. Sapnap sat up a little and he swiveled his head to see him, only to shrink back a little at the dangerous glint of playfulness that stared back at him.

"Kissies? You want kissies?", Karl whispered into the unsuspecting ear, suddenly holding him in place. Karl kept him in place easily while delivering soft tickly kisses rapid fire down at his collarbone, relishing in the desperate giggles it drew from the smaller boy.

"So cute.", Sapnap purred evilly, striking fear in Quackity's heart. He knew he was done for now.

Sapnap's hand suddenly slid up his shirt and grabbed at his bare tummy and sides. Quackity squealed embarrassingly loud, completely worked up.

"Guys...", he started, but halted the horrible words and shook his head. 'Shit.', he thought. The other two laughed anyway.

"Guys pleeeease! Don't tickle me!", Karl mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

"Guys pleeeease! I'm just so ticklish!", Sapnap teases, matching Karl's pitch.

Quackity folds instantly, groaning as he puts his reddening face in his hands. The feeling of both his fiancé's zeroing in on his every word and movement overwhelming him.

"I hate you guys.", he mutters, flinching at the warning poke to his side. He's done it now. "No, I hate you!", it's more muffled as he covers his face more. A squeak forces it's way out as someone squeezes his side.

"Oh you better stop.", Karl growls right up against his ear, making him jerk away with giggles. Sapnap catches his shoulders easily and sinks his teeth into his neck, wringing out a hilarious shriek from the smaller boy, laughing as the feathers on golden wings shift frantically.

Quackity can't help but move forward and bury his face in Karl's chest, probably the worst protection from what he feared possible. "Are you scared baby?", Karl trills wickedly, the tone sending obvious shivers down Quackity's spine.

"No, he's just presenting his back to me.", Sapnap stated proudly, quickly tickling into his back before he could react, skillfully finding the exact spot that drives his fiancé crazy every time. Karl clutched on for dear life as Quackity broke down into hysterics in his arms against his chest.

"Sapnap!", he cried out uselessly, his wings shaking as he squirmed between them, shrieking with laughter. "Please!", he croaked as he tried to twist away from Karl's grip.

Karl released him and Quackity pressed his tingling back against the couch again with a relieved gasp. The two playful boys cuddled into either side of him and he whined.

"Why are you two so evil today?", he huffed.

"You love it.", Sapnap accused, slithering his hand back under Quackity's shirt to draw more gasp-y laughter out of him.

"No I don't, shut up! Stop!!", he twisted with a squeal, Sapnap having squeezed his bare side.

"The squirmiest worm.", Karl coo'ed lovingly, burying his face into Quackity's neck and nuzzling in, grinning as he felt Quackity shake with giggles.

He was completely useless under all this stupid love and tickling. So sweet, but so mean. It melted every bad thought, really every thought, from his mind. His fiancés had taken their sweet time long ago finding every single spot on Quackity to draw whatever reaction they wanted from him. It was excruciating to be known so well.

"I'm getting you guys back later.", he murmured, shivering as he felt Karl's grin disappear and refocus on drawing other noises out of him, teasing with his tongue so softly on his neck it forced a small cry out of him. Sapnap let the words wash over him before joining the other, trying to ignore the feelings it spiked inside. Maybe he could make Quackity forget how they had stopped the sweet make-out session to torture him.

As teasy and mean as Karl and Sapnap could be, it was nothing compared to Quackity's wrath.

For now, Quackity relaxed and let the two try to make up for it all. Desperate lips trying to beg for forgiveness with kisses and soft praise. Forgiveness that wasn't granted...but they tried their best.

(Art is by @kazenomegaminowanpisu )

#wishitweresummer #tickle #mcyt tickle #dream smp tickle #quackity #karlnapity #karlnapity tickle #lee! quackity #lee!quackity #ler!sapnap #ler!karl #ler! karl jacobs #ler! karljacobs #ticklefics #tickle fic #quackity tickle

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fleet-off · 1 year

Text

A snippet from Off the Handle

(CW: minor accidental self-harm, allusions to suicide.)

His madness begins in the aftermath, when anger loosens its stranglehold and wraps him in its familiar seething caress. Vegas swipes his damp finger along the tips of the knives on the drying rack, traces their honed edges and well-oiled wooden handles.

Who the fuck puts wood in the dishwasher? Even Vegas knows better than that, and he’s more accustomed to the banalities of cleaning crusted blood from a set of pliers than he is to cleaning chili oil from a vegetable knife.

At least the focus required to handwash them has dampened the petty urge to stab them into the kitchen walls.

The bedroom door is shut, but Pete hasn’t left the apartment. As long as Pete is still here, this is fixable. Surely he’ll come out for dinner.

…If Pete skips dinner, Vegas will fucking--

Vegas flings his dish towel to the floor. It lands with an impotent flop.

He’ll fucking what? There’s no forcing Pete to eat when he doesn’t want to.

Pete’s fury shouldn’t be silent. Pete’s fury as Vegas knows it is world-ending, concussive. It batters Vegas’s brain against the inside of his skull and threatens self-immolation.

Vegas runs his thumb down the edge of his butcher’s knife.

There should be blood on the floor, he thinks. He’d feel better for it--Vegas has tidied up the consequences of arguments countless times, knows how to put his pieces back in presentable order almost by rote.

This listless limbo can’t last. Something is coming. Something has to break, to punctuate all that anger. Shattered dishes, ringing ears, bruised skin.

Life was miserably simpler, when Ba was around.

Pete’s anger these days is more like Vegas’s mother’s. Ba used to call her hysterical--but that was Ba’s way, wasn’t it? Pete--(Vegas’s grip on the knife tightens)--Pete has realer, more accurate words.

Ma took what she was given until the very moment she couldn’t. Life broke her, and so death--

A thin twist of pain teases up Vegas’s fingertip. He reacts several seconds late, with a flinch he doesn’t feel but supposes he should--because the blood is welling up from a cut in his finger and the lack of a flinch reflex isn’t adaptive anymore, it just makes Vegas a clumsy fuck-up with cooking burns on his palms.

Vegas frowns at the gash. It barely bleeds until he squeezes it open. Who needs a knife this sharp in their kitchen?

Vegas--more fool him--had thought he did, cheerfully whetting his new knives. “Sharp enough to fillet a man,” he’d told Macau, because Macau would treat it like the joke it was and feel included without having to live the truth of it.

At his corner of the counter, Pete had remained silent, his eyes glittery and dark like a spider’s. That look is habit now, emerges in Pete every time Vegas turns his sharp purpose towards feeding him. The new familiarity spins nostalgia-like in Vegas’s chest.

It isn’t his old life. It’s better.

Vegas’s stomach twists to recall that spark of ownership and joy over his space in their kitchen at the center of the world. What a short-sighted ass he’s been.

Pete wears anger like Ma did. If there is to be blood on the floor, what better means than the knives at the core of the argument?

Impotent. Worse--maker of his loved ones’ annihilation.

…He might get away with one, but Pete would notice if he wrecked all the blades.

Vegas swallows and scoops them up, a steel bouquet in his destructive hands. Self-sabotage waiting to happen. He opens the knife drawer.

It’s better-balanced without the knives in it. Neater, closer to the toothless thing Vegas never was.

His blood has smudged on one of his nice new knife handles. It feels like an omen.

Vegas closes the drawer. He’ll find a temporary home for the knives. They can order takeout, just for the next few days. As long as Pete and Macau are willing to eat, Vegas won’t let his family go hungry.

#kinnporsche #vegaspete #fanfiction #vegas severely overreacts to a dishwasher spat: the fanfic #i’m a slow writer #(thanks in no small part to my hands--they get mad if I type more than three sentences on my phone or a few hundred words on my laptop)#but I’m recovering from a writing slump last week and felt like sharing something!#fleet post #fleet fic

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inkaddict1978 · 2 years

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If you’d asked him how he’d gotten himself into this mess, Steve Harrington would have lied, over exaggerated expression of innocence on his face. Not that he was in the position to portray any emotion other than giggle-drunk bliss at the moment, the laughter induced, wide smile taking over all of his features. His eyes were squeezed shut, crinkles forming at the edges, nose scrunched. “Adorable.” Eddie thought to himself as he continued his loving torture.

Steve knew exactly what he’d been doing these past few days, pushing Eddie’s buttons in what he’d hoped had been all the right ways, yet nothing had seemed to work. Eddie, the ever patient one in their relationship, had yet to elicit a response to any of Steve’s antics. Apparently, stealing his guitar pick had crossed some invisible line Steve hadn’t known existed. He’d barely had time to register the smirk on Eddie’s face before he was pushed face down on the bed, with Eddie’s hands burrowing underneath his body, finding purchase at the groove of his hips on either side. Pinching and prodding at a maddening pace, Steve had no hope of concealing his reaction, lost to laughter almost immediately. That had been almost five minutes ago.

Since then, Eddie had managed to flip Steve over, face up, launching a full scale attack on his belly. “Nonononono.” Steve giggled as he tried desperately to grab Eddie’s wrists. “Addicting.” Eddie could get lost in Steve’s laughter, compose symphonies to it. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. Unfortunately, he knew Steve would need a break soon. Not quite yet though. Still time for a little fun.

While Steve was focused on ineffectively protecting his stomach, Eddie shifted forward, digging into Steve’s armpits before his arms could come crashing down to block his target. A surprised shriek punctuated the air, Steve’s head shaking back and forth rapidly, while his arms squeezed to his sides as tightly as possible. All he managed to do was trap Eddie’s hands, not deterring the movement of his fingers at all. “Shit, shit, shit, Eddie nohohoho. Please not there. I’ll die!” Steve babbled. “I’ll do anything, just please not there!” If Steve was trying to plead for his life, he wasn’t very convincing, smile still stretched brightly across his face. “Beautiful.”

“No way you didn’t know this was coming, you’ve been bugging me for days. Practically begging for it.” Eddie taunted through a smile of his own. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Munson!” Steve managed to scream between hysterical cackles. Eddie just sighed and rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, always the stubborn one. Eddie was used to it, but it didn’t hurt to try and take him down a couple of notches every now and then. He was certainly enjoying this method, and it seemed Steve was as well, if his tortured smile was any indication.

When Eddie had initiated this, it had been instinctual. He’d noticed Steve’s attempts to get his attention the past several days, and the way he’d slightly deflated every time Eddie hadn’t reacted the way he’d hoped. Truth was, Eddie had been cautious initially because he’d wanted to be sure he was reading the situation correctly. Now, in the moment, there was no doubt. Steve had been asking for this. As time progressed, he made sure to watch for any signs of discomfort in Steve’s responses and reactions. So far he’d found none. Still, this was uncharted territory, new boundaries being crossed, and he wanted to tread lightly. Their relationship was fairly new and the last thing Eddie wanted to do was make Steve uncomfortable. As he continued, he couldn’t help but notice that aside from all the bartering and laugh laced threats, Steve wasn’t really trying to stop this. His words may have objected, but they were betrayed by the emotion that radiated so brightly from every pore, Eddie was blinded. Uncharted territory indeed. Get him a map and he’d spend days exploring it.

He continued for a few moments before slowing his fingers. Steve managed to lift his arms long enough to release Eddie’s trapped hands, limbs heavy with exhaustion, dopey smile lingering on his face. Eddie slid off Steve in favor of snuggling up behind him. When Steve felt Eddie’s hands return to his sides, he tensed, but they didn’t stay there, lingering just long enough to pull Steve back to rest comfortably against Eddie’s chest. Eddie’s left hand found purchase in Steve’s hair, massaging his scalp, while his other hand rubbed soothing circles on his belly. Steve was tired, but apparently not too tired to smirk out a comment about Eddie being talented enough to “rub his belly and pat his head at the same time” which earned him a quick flutter of fingers at the nape of his neck. Steve snorted and scrunched, and Eddie decided that was definitely worth exploring in detail at a later time. For now, he was content to lay there, letting the sounds of his boyfriend’s soft breathing lull him to the edge of consciousness. Just before he drifted off he heard Steve whisper “thank you.”

These two are living rent free in my head these days.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things tickle fic #lee! steve harrington #ler!eddie munson

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nyxreads · 2 years

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The reason why Azriel saved Eris is because he knew Gwyn is safe and can survive it.

“You’d know if she’d died,” Azriel said, pausing his work and looking up at Cassian. He tapped his brother’s chest with a scarred hand. “Right here—you’d know, Cass.”

It seems to me that deep down he can feel his bond with Gwyn. He's calm during the time Cassian was hysterical because Azriel doesnt only trust his mate but also feels she's well and alive.

Maybe the bond didn't snap when he first rescued Gwyn but it was showed on the extra scene.

Something sparked in Azriel’s chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn’s teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason . . . he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

It makes more sense than Azriel saving Elain because they have no choice. Azriel was the only one available to save Elain.

Funny, because I made one parallel about who Azriel is pertaining to in that sentence before, here if you like to check it out

Plus, how well and alive Gw*n was during the bloodrite? Oh, I'm gonna show you incase you forgot:

Gwyn still on the other side with an arrow through her thigh. Down. Too close to the males closing in— “CUT IT!” Gwyn roared. “Get up,” Nesta ground out. “Get up.” The priestess tried. She made it to her feet, but she’d never cross the bridge in time.

Gwyn still seemed to be running, then leaping into the open air, only that rope around her middle to keep her from death as she began to plunge—

Each pull had Nesta panting against the pain until Gwyn cleared the cliff edge, grimacing as the arrow through her thigh touched the ground. It had been a clean shot, but blood soaked her leg. Her face was already pale.

but the priestess still limped. Her face had grown ashen

It began snowing again around midday, and Gwyn’s steps grew staggered. Her breathing too labored. Soon Nesta and Emerie were half-carrying her between them.

“We would live,” Emerie said carefully. “I’d love nothing more than to wipe the smirks off the lips of the males in my village, but not at this cost. Not if it costs us you, Gwyn. We need you to live.” // Ch 68

Gwyn’s leg was bleeding again, her face ghostly white. None of them spoke.

Gwyn was a half-dead weight at her back. The blood loss had made her so weak it seemed she could barely hold on. // Ch 69

Meanwhile, between all the scenes Azriel showed no sign of "bond" telling him his "mate" is almost half dead. He's too busy saving Eris.

And, Azriel's chapter happened between chapter 58 and 59, here is the proof (@obviouslyelriel) , and some analysis made by @wingedblooms. I suggest you read these posts because it totally made sense and based on canon texts.

If Azriel and Gw*n are mates and the bond snapped during the Bonus Chapter, wouldn't he feel that Gw*n's already too weak? Wouldn't he react with rage and rescue his mate rather than Eris? Wouldn't he pursue Gw*n?

If that bonus chapter is a hint of them being mates wouldn't we read development between these two? The bloodrite was the perfect scene to show us where Az cpuld drop everything and go and save Gw*n because if they're truly mates nothing mattered but her safety. But we got nothing.

What did we even get after the bloodrite?

Gwyn, despite the Rite, had returned to living in the library. // Ch 80

The bonus chapter you all love to cling to is not enough basis because we barely even see the proof of the bond in the actual book. Also here's @merymoonbeam 's answer to that bonus chapter that actually made more sense than Az and Gw*n being mates.

And don't forget that almost 7pages in Az chapter is about him AND Elain, the remaining five with Gw*n happened because: His shadows had not warned him. It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Canon.

The other scene happened because: with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square. Instead, he found himself at the library beneath the House of Wind, standing before Clotho as the clock chimed seven in the evening.

If you're gonna consider it, Elain and Azriel have more mate materials in the actual bookS.

And again. Azriel was the first one to noticed Elain is missing. He is the one who initiated to rescue him no matter what happens to him. He made sure she's well before letting her go after the rescue. I don't see the "he's the only one available" when literally there's her sisters. You see, if you look at it closely, the bloodrite happened to : show Valkryies strength and their friendship, their backstory, AND romantically Cassian's reaction as a mate.

The rescue scene with Elain is the one that screams they possibly have a bond, see this: (by @viennasneverland )

And please, this will be the last time I'm gonna answer anon from other side of the fandom. As I said before, you can discuss all your "theories" on your side. There's no point on bringing it on our side and trying to make us see your point. Gw*n and Az for you might have a possible bond BUT in canon there's actually alot of seeds for Elriel. There's no point discussing your opinion with us if you're not even considering what's written in the actual books. If you wanted to have another discussion about this, then I suggest read the books because what I'm gonna answer to you is also from there.

#anon ask #elriel #pro elriel #anti gw*nriel

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battlemaiden13 · 2 years

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Can you do how the skeleguys would react to this situation plz?:

He and his S/O had a kid that's 2 at the moment. His kid puts their hand n a cup and looks at him and starts 'crying'. When their hand is taken out they look at him, laugh the hysterical laugh every little toddler does, and imediately puts their hand back n the cup. Then look at him like 'ok dad.. do it again or I shall cry once more'.

Sans -Every time he removes the cup from the kid he will make a bad pun. He thinks this is fun. It’s keeping both the kid and him entertained and it’s not hurting anyone so why not let the child keep going. He will slowly move the cup away from the child every time he takes it off them and the two stay playing this game for hours.

Papyrus -Doesn’t seem to really notice. He’s busy doing other things so he will just automatically keep taking the cup off of the kid anytime he passes them. He might not even be aware that the kid is doing it repeatedly as he won’t pay close attention unless the kid starts to cry again.

Red -The second time he will take the cup off the child and scoop them up moving locations and finding more appropriate toys to play with. He knows that he could let the kid play more with the cup but he’s worried that they could hurt themselves. He does stay with his child though and their attention quickly changes to the new toys around them.

Edge -He doesn’t say anything as he is probably doing chores whilst taking care of the child but he also doesn’t seem to mind the antics. After a while he might get annoyed and move the cup away, distracting the kid with one of his toys but it will take a while for this to happen.

Blue -He will happily play this game with the kid making a big show out of it and trying to use it as a teaching opportunity. He will also laugh and just seem to make this a fun moment for his kid, not worrying too much about it as he explains the proper function of a cup.

Orange -Starts joking around with the kid and cup. He happily removes it from the kid at first, mimicking his child's actions. At first, his horse play is all well and good until the cup gets stuck on his own hand and he can’t get it off. Embarrassed and holding a crying and or laughing child he has to ask you for help.

Berry -Honestly when he figures out what the kid is doing he’s sort of proud. Manipulations to the max from his kid and he adores it. Of course he will help the kid out again and may even call you over to watch the master manipulator at work. It was a sort of skill underground so Berry still considers it a very powerful skill although will talk to his kid when they grow up about using it appropriately.

Syrup -Depends, if he loves the kid, like he has a connection with them, he will help as much as the child wants. His heart soaring every time they laugh or smile. If he couldn’t care less he will help them once and let them cry until you say something or if he thinks it will upset you. He will abuse that kid if he feels nothing, doing the bare minimum for you so you don’t get upset.

#undertale #undertale Imagines #undertale sans #undertale papyrus #underfell #Underfell Papyrus #underfell sans #underSwap #underswap sans #underswap papyrus #swapfell #swapfell sans #swapfell papyrus

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 year

Text

And Eat It, Too - Chapter Seventeen: Annabelle

In which Annabelle Cane tells Jon just enough about what's going on to send him into an existential crisis, and Jon receives his final mark...

>>> NOW ON AO3!

Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims ruined the world.

And it wasn't the first time he had.

(Masterpost including playlist)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It was always going to end here, he thinks.

The one place he knows is a stronghold of the Web, a place that took in orphans and made them agents, a place burned to hell by Agnes Montague because spiders and fire don’t play nice.

They’ve rebuilt. It looks okay.

The neighborhood is quiet, quaint. A nice place to retire, more so than raise children, and he knows the worst of the gossips were glad when no one was left alive here to continue bringing in “troubled youth.”

It doesn’t look like anyone is home.

Jon knows that’s a lie.

Simple brick, two stories. They’ve worked on the landscaping, and it has a hedge, though the lawn is in need of reseeding.

The front door is unlocked.

He doesn’t try the lights. Doesn’t need them. Knows, though he’s never been here before, where the door to the basement is, and where they will be waiting for him.

He tries not to see the webs, everywhere, everywhere. They scare him.

Knowing this is his only choice doesn’t mean he isn’t afraid.

Well, at least I’m bringing a snack like a good house guest, he thinks, and emits one high, hysterical giggle.

Sounding like Michael makes it worse, and he has to lean against the doorframe to the basement for a moment, gathering himself.

No turning back.

They are kind enough to have a light on at the bottom.

It’s a wide basement, unfurnished but for two chairs. One of them is occupied by Annabelle Cane.

There’s a slight discoloration on the floor in front of her, as if a table had sat there for a very long time.

And behind Annabelle—

Behind her but not behind her but there but not there is the form of a spider so huge, so sentient, so present, that it could not fit in this basement or six basements or sixty basements, and he cannot see it if he looks directly, but it is there, constant, in the corner of his eye.

And he feels so small.

“It’s all right, Archivist,” says Annabelle. “No one is going to bite you, or put spiders in your skull. Just sit. It’s time for that answer I promised you.”

Jon doesn’t often get so scared his teeth chatter, but he’s hit that peak now, and he can’t quiet them as he goes to sit down. Gingerly, on the edge. As if that would make any difference at all.

Annabelle is being completely non-threatening. Leaning back, no quick movements. Letting him catch his breath.

Behind her, that consciousness (so aware, so much more than the Eye, so much more than even Mister Pitch, so that by comparison maybe they do all seem like muscle spasms) is focused on them.

“I… I don’t know how long I can take this,” says Jon.

“That’s fair. It can be… a lot, when you’re not used to it,” smiles Annabelle. “And if you lack the temperament to appreciate the beauty.”

“I definitely lack it,” says Jon. “Very lacking. Lacked. Can I go now?”

“You can go whenever you want,” says Annabelle. “But you’ll go without answers.”

Fuck.

He grips the arms of the chair. “Don’t make me wait, then. Get on with it.”

She doesn’t react to his sharpness. “I’m going to tell you a story, Archivist.” (And yes he is eager to hear and the Eye’s hunger rises in him and almost but not quite eclipses the terror.) “I’m going to ask you to sit still and listen to the end. You won’t understand what’s going on… at first. It’ll all be clear, soon.”

Jon checks around him, making sure nothing is trying to web him up while she talks. “All right.”

She smiles. She looks fond. She begins. “Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims ruined the world.”

She tells him, in brief, of a man so like him, but who came under the influence of the Corruption’s horrible love, and ended the world in rot and gore. And barely, the Spider and the Fears managed to escape to another universe.

“What?” he says.

She ignores that, and then she begins again. “Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims ruined the world.”

And she tells that story again—but it’s the Hunt this time, and with his power, his mind, the Everchase actually finished, creating a new and screaming ecocosm of predator and prey.

The Fears escaped the same way.

She begins the story again.

And again.

“Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims fell in love with an Avatar of the Lonely, and gave the world away in mist and heartache.”

“Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims fell in love with an Avatar of the Lightless Flame, and birthed a new age of fire and destruction.”

“Once upon a time, a man named Jonathan Sims fell in love with his Archivist, Sasha James, and in trying to save her life, gave the world to the Beholding on a silver platter.”

“I don’t understand,” he finally says, because she’s told him twenty variations, and—

“This is not our first universe, Archivist,” says Annabelle. “But we’re hoping it will be the last.”

Jon shakes. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s you,” she says. “It’s always you.”

He’s breathing too fast. “I don’t understand!”

Annabelle sighs. “Let’s try… something different. You read the statements about the Extinction, yeah?”

“The… the new Fear Adelard Dekkard postulated. Yes,” says Jon, so insanely glad to not be talking about another damned Jonathan Sims.

“He was right. Humans… when they fear something enough, it does take on form. It’s coming, the Extinction, but not for a long time yet. It’s not feared enough. Yet.”

“All right,” says Jon, following, trembling, barely breathing.

“The Mother of Machinations believes you exist because too many people began to fear… a chosen one.”

He stares at her.

“Not a good chosen one—just a used one, a manipulated one, trapped by designs too big to escape. Someone who cannot fix the ruined world they inherited. Someone who has no good choices left, and somehow, Jon, that leads to you. And no matter what we do, no matter where we flee, we can’t stop you from becoming.”

He believes her.

He knows with everything in him that she is right, that this is true, that the Eye was waiting for him to show up again, that it’s so happy he’s here, that his appearance put the world on a doomsday countdown.

And the Web couldn’t stop it? The Web? What in hell was he supposed to do?

“So kill me,” he says, head spinning with tales of apocalypse, of a fucking alternate universe secreted below the floor of this house (Under the basement? Is that where it is?). “Just kill me and prevent it!”

“We’ve tried to prevent it. We’ve killed you in your mother’s womb; we’ve kept your parents from even meeting. But you’re always born, or born again, and you always end up here.”

“Born again? Reincarnated? That’s a thing?”

“It is for you.”

“Anyone else?”

She smiles.

“I don’t want to end anything!” Jon cries.

“You sometimes do. You sometimes don’t.”

“No!” He gets up and stalks.

Back and forth.

She’s very well-spoken. He sees these lives as she tells these tales, sees every single one of the choices that lead him to each apocalypse.

And he is upset because he understands.

“No,” he snarls, he denies, he lies.

“In the last universe, you almost ended all life, everywhere—including us,” says Annabelle.

Jon stops. Stares at her.

“When you reached the end, as you always do—Beholding, this time—you’d seen too much suffering. You couldn’t bear the pain of the world, even though your Eye gave you pleasure alongside it.”

Jon flushes. He understands. It is a sick joy, a grief and triumph, all at once.

“So when we showed you our plan, to leave, to just… go away, and let you have your world back…”

He knows. “I didn’t want to curse any other universe with all of this,” he whispers.

She nods. “That. That’s what drove you. You decided instead to gently… end all life. And then we would starve, and the Dread Powers would be no more.”

And Jon can see that, has tasted despair so strong that if it lasted, he wouldn’t see any other way, and he sits again because his legs will not hold him. “What happened?” he whispers. “You’re here. So… so I didn’t do it.”

“You started to. But Martin.”

“Martin?” says Jon quietly.

“Of all the loves of your life—when you have them—you are happiest with Martin, every time.”

That sense of a thing lost, of a goodbye, washes through him again; but he doubles down over the ache. Martin is safe with Tim, or whoever he ends up with. That’s more important. “Martin stopped me?”

“To end all life would end him—and you could not bring yourself to do that..”

“What did we do?”

“Almost too late, you took our escape option, and you went… somewhere else. We don’t know where. It’s beyond our knowledge.”

“They… did they make it? Are they alive?”

“We don’t know, but the Mother thinks it’s a good chance. There were no bodies, at any rate.”

That’s staggering.

Jon swallows. He hopes they found a happy ending, wherever they are.

The questions are coming, and there is no longer any reason not to let them flow. “So… you keep saying, ‘when you’re in love.’ Are you telling me that’s a key factor?”

“It is a factor. You still bring apocalypse when not in love—based on friendship, closer than a brother. You also do it when you have no one, but when you have no one, you always choose the Dark.”

“Not the Lonely?” he says.

“No. When you have no one, Jonathan Sims, you want everyone around you to hurt—not just drift into despair.”

He hunches. That’s a side of himself he’s never seen, and he doesn’t think he wants to. “Oh,” he says, quietly.

“Those are the times we have to… well. Gertrude sometimes had the right idea,” she says with a smile.

Chop me up and throw me into the pit, he thinks, sick. “Then why don’t you just do that every time?” His eyes widen. “Am I here for that now?”

She laughs. “No. We don’t like that way. It goes against our nature, and does not feed the Mother.”

So I’m lucky they prefer manipulating me, he thinks with rising hysteria. “Fine. Fine! So. What about you? A web… apocalypse? Is that what you want?”

“We don’t want one. We like things the way they are. Neither does the End—though when you’re with Oliver Banks, it is an… interesting conclusion.”

It’s just so inane. “Like some stupid novel. The power of love.”

“The best and worst things are created out of love, including the most delicious fear—and when you are in love, you are willing to do anything. But anything isn’t so predictable. Your relationships are always too… complicated. That’s why our little escape plan is always necessary, too.”

He suddenly has to know. “Am I ever with Georgie?”

“Yes—when she’s an avatar of the End.”

“Fuck,” he says quietly. “Tim?”

“Yes. Desolation.”

And oh, Jon can see that, can feel how Tim’s wrath could carry him there, and how, if Jon were his, he would want to give him the world in embers and screams. “Wait. Are you saying being with me guarantees they get snatched up by some fear god?”

“You’re with Jared Hopworth, once,” she says, instead of answering.

“Oh, dear lord,” Jon says, and starts pacing again.

“Whenever Gerard Keay is still alive, you end up with him—and the world is given to the Beholding. Every time. You’re very well matched,” says Annabelle.

“I…” Jon swallows. “I can almost see that.” Another strange regret.

“If it helps, you’re more often tricked into ending it, or taken,” says Annabelle. “Like tonight. You have been used by the Stranger, before—once. It was ugly.”

“But you still manage to pull the ripcord and get out,” Jon snaps.

“Oh, yes.”

He wrings his hands. Trying to think. “They said I don’t have all the marks.”

“It still would have caused a rift—thirteen out of fourteen? Unstable, at best—and you have read statements of the Buried, enough to know the fear of it. While risky, it might have worked.”

Jon doesn’t want to think about the Buried, about Too Close I Cannot Breathe.

He swings back to something he has to ask, just has to know for certain: “What about Elias?”

Annabelle sighs. It may be scripted, but it’s very well performed.

“That bad, is it?”

“The one time he loved you enough not to go through with it—and it took all our help to make that happen—you did it anyway, because you knew it would make him happy.”

Jon smacks his hands over his face. Now for the painful question. “Did you do Michael?”

“We ‘did’ Michael, yes—but only in encouraging you to remind it that your death would not lead to revenge. It already liked you, conflicting with its need for wrath. It didn’t take much.”

Jon frowns. “But it’s true, what I said. That was my thought. That wasn’t—”

“When you don’t say it, it is replaced by Helen.”

Jon’s entire being lurches.

“Yes, that’s consistent, too,” says Annabelle. “And Elias, before you ask, was going to happen the moment you caught Michael’s attention. Elias assumes he has you, Jon. Just assumes. It doesn’t mean he has to reach for you—you’re an object on an arrogant man’s shelf, part of the collection, guaranteed. He doesn’t have to take you down and look at you to know you are owned.”

“But then he got jealous,” mutters Jon.

“But then he got jealous.”

Jon goes silent.

This hurts. Maybe it shouldn’t; maybe he’s being absurd. Elias is evil, and there’s been no doubt about that for years.

But some tiny part of Jon had believed him, too.

His type? No. Irreplaceable? No. You’re not a cost worth paying? Bullshit.

Elias had to violate him, force him to watch his nightmares, seduce him, just so no one else would get to play with his toy.

Jon wipes at his eyes. It hurts.

Annabelle’s tone is gentle. “Not that it matters. Every time he decides to try for you, it works.”

Jon winces. “Every time?”

She shrugs.

Jon crosses his arms, hiding himself. “I’m… pathetic.”

“No, you’re human,” says Annabelle. “The best and the worst, really. Flawed, wounded, but making choices—usually trying to be good. Needing connection is part of who you are—whether it’s romantic or not.”

“Bully for me,” he mutters.

Annabelle laughs.

Jon realizes he’s no longer panicking. “You knew all this weirdness would calm me down. Thinking about… about the people in my life.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you need the reminder that you are not alone, no matter how badly you mess up.” She shrugs. “That you can be worthy of love—and it doesn’t hurt to know that when you are in love, you’re more stubborn than almost anyone else on earth, which is important to help you actually think through your decisions.”

Jon has to laugh. “So I’m an idiot messiah.”

“Or an idiot Ragnarok, enfleshed, bringing an end to all things.”

“That isn’t better.” He rubs his face. Wants to leave, cry, rage. Break something. Sleep in the corner. He’s in shock, he realizes. This is shock.

“And that brings us… to here. A billion universes, a billion tries. It’s always you. The Mother of Webs feels you are inevitable, like she is. And we again try to keep you from ending it all.”

Inevitable. Him. What a waste of cosmic resources, he thinks.

Jon sits down and faces her.

She’s not telling him everything. There’s still the feeling of something huge, hidden just out of sight.

The Spider is still here, too, still taking up too much space, but she made a good choice in bringing Annabelle to him. In spite of himself, he likes Annabelle Cane. “So what’s your solution, then?”

“Our solution?” says Annabelle, eyes glinting.

“Yes, your solution. Don’t tell me you brought me down here just to give me dire news and send me away. ‘Oh, pack a bag, Sims, you’re probably going to end the world any day now, make sure to bring some plasters.’”

She smiles. “We have decided to try… a different tack.”

“Well?” he says.

“Your life usually heads toward tragedy.”

He sighs, slumps. “I’m not surprised.”

“You also know what is at stake now,” she says.

“Only everything.”

“Yes. So we are going to send you home.”

“What? To wh— of course. the Institute.”

“You’ll have decisions to make there. We’ll be prepared for all of them.”

“What, you can’t tell me what I’m going to decide?” he snaps.

“Not if you’re going to mean them. They have to come from you.”

Oh, good, frustration is now taking the place of more fear. “Give me some sort of clue! Please!”

The Spider shifts. Jon shudders at the sensation of something that complex, that wildly complicated, communicating in human terms, like entire worlds stuffed into a pocket.

Annabelle’s eyes lid. “Apotheosis.”

He blinks at her. “That’s my clue? That’s Michael’s word, for his failed ritual!”

She laughs. “Jonathan Sims… you always want to have your cake and eat it, too, but you never do. This time, for once, maybe you actually should.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he snarls, then rubs his face, trying to imagine showing up at the Institute this late at night. “Elias is going to be furious.”

“It won’t matter soon.”

“Wh… why, are you going to kill him?” says Jon in horror.

Annabelle laughs. She laughs, and it is light, and somehow free in a way that seems so real in spite of what he thinks she is, and she shakes her head. “It’s time to go, Jonathan Sims. Good luck.”

“Y… you have to give me more than that,” he says, hating that he begs, but what else is there to do? “Please!”

“You have what you need—and all your questions will be answered soon,” she says. “I promise. And I kept my word last time, didn’t I?”

She did.

He laughs weakly. “For what it’s worth, you were right. This would have distracted the hell out of me.”

Annabelle Cane laughs. She’s still chuckling as he goes up the stairs, staggering more than a little, and finds a car driven by someone who’s Web, someone who won’t ask questions, and happily, keeps the radio down low.

It’s a good hour to the Institute.

Jon has no idea what he’s going to do.

Everything has been so crazy that Jon hasn’t had a chance to process that the Unknowing is done.

They did it. He won.

Everyone lived. He chooses to believe Tim will be fine, and Michael will be fine (oh gods, Michael—

Keep it together, Sims, you can’t help it by freaking out.)

All these things are good—but it’s not over. He’d thought it would be over.

All his inertia was to get him to the post-ritual place, and now…

It’s nearly midnight when he arrives at the steps of the Institute. The driver just nods and leaves—not a word said, not a tip needed. Jon hopes Spiders pay well.

He stares up at the old building, elegant, nightmares housed in stone, and wonders how many more stories he could have gotten out of Annabelle if he’d pushed to ask more.

The Eye wanted more. Jon wanted more.

Probably why the Spider was there, he thinks as he climbs. Wasn’t about to bully anybody with that breathing down my neck.

He gets to the top, pats down his pockets, realizes he has no keys. He must have lost them somewhere along the way.

He checks the door. Locked.

“Damn it, why did you bring me here?” he mutters, kicking the door in an annoyed and tired sort of way.

“Didn’t,” says Breekon behind him.

“But we sure are sending you somewhere,” says Hope, and they are angry, and their good humor is gone, and they catch him before he can so much as reach the stairs again, lift him in the air before he can even scream, throw him hard into the mouth of the open coffin.

Jon screams.

He crashes down impossible stone steps into a hole that doesn’t exist, a stairway so narrow that his fall wedges him sideways and upside down, and then they close that lid, leaving him in the choking dark.

(part eighteen)

#tma au #tma fanfic #tma fic #jonathan sims #tma annabelle #annabelle cane #annabelle cain #tma spoilers #and eat it too #tma web #tma the web #the web

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ink-herrscher · 2 years

Text

samsara

— herrscher of sentience x fu hua

genre : hurt/comfort

warnings : none

wordcount : 2,953

summary : "because one day, you will find the person that will treasure you the most in this world. and you won't be alone, phoenix."

(an au where kiana fails to save fu hua from herself. trapped all alone inside the fenghuang down's feather, fu hua and the herrscher of sentience talk about their journeys together.)

hua wakes to a mirror world.

it is shattered and fragmented, spilling diamond dust over the endless void of the skies and the ground. all around her, segments of a memory washed away by the river of time plays like a broken vinyl record – and then it all cracks and fades to black.

this is the eighth divine key. fenghuang down.

“what? you’re here, too?”

hua looks up.

the tranquil air turns hostile and violent, sparking with bursts of fire that pop and crackle like an angry fireshower. the herscherr of sentience stands across her, and it feels like a fight will break out at any moment from the way she stands, hands gripping the weapons by her side like she wants to break them.

but the herscherr’s eyes are red, scratched raw and left to bleed. glassy like smoke and dark like the shadow wisps curling beneath her clenched fingertips. it is not in hua’s nature to hesitate, but something about the vulnerable anger the herscherr is clinging onto makes her want to reach out and hold out her hand.

but that is being presumptuous. hua cannot hold her hand out and the herscherr will never accept help from her, of all people.

she turns around.

“where are you going?” hua asks.

“none of your business,” she spits, on the verge of hysterics. she is barely restraining herself. “i’m going somewhere far away from you.”

and then she leaves, and hua watches her back grow smaller, consumed by the whispers of her past. she stands there, quiet, waiting, but she doesn’t need to wait long. heavy stomps sound from the distance, and when she looks back up again, the herscherr is back to where she started, a curse spilled harshly from her red lips.

she turns around again to leave, but it is no use. she always comes back here.

it is quiet.

hua opens her eyes. inside this world of dreams, it’s easy to lose track of time. they could have been here for a minute or a thousand years, and neither of them will notice a thing. there is only the two of them and the endless echoes of scenes from the past to keep her company.

the herscherr is quiet.

hua peeks at her from time to time. she’s sitting as far away from hua as possible, curled into herself like a babe. sometimes, the mist from the shimmered light touches her and sheds an ephemeral glow over the edges of her crown, and she starts to look like a dream, but hua can’t walk up to her to check for herself, anyway, so there’s no use dwelling upon it.

she places her hands on her knees, and sighs.

sometimes, she wishes she hadn’t been so harsh towards her. perhaps she deemed it necessary back then, but inside this feather, she has nothing but time: time to think, time to reflect, and time to regret.

perhaps she could have been kinder to this herscherr that was born from her own body. this poor soul that fell into the trappings of her legacy. but hua can’t change the past, anyway, so there’s no use dwelling upon this, either.

“ugh, dammit!”

the words reflect against the mirrored walls and echo between them infinitely. hua glances at the herscherr in surprise. the overflowing storm within her eyes has calmed into a brilliant sunset painting, sparked with fire and forged with gold. she looks more annoyed than angry now.

“hey, old timer,” she snaps irritably, all empty grandiose and the bright embers of a dying blaze. “if you want to talk to me, just go ahead and do it!”

she is so lively, hua thinks.

“i didn’t know how you would react if i approached you.” she pauses, shifts, and turns to face her completely. “how did you know i wanted to talk to you?”

“what, don’t tell me you forgot already,” she mocks, and points to her head. sarcasm overflows like honey. “i have all your memories and tendencies here, remember? so, naturally, if you want to talk to me, then I feel the same –”

the herscherr stops in her tracks, and turns around again. “ugh, whatever! shut up already, i don’t want to talk to you!”

hua stares at her back, and sighs. unwittingly, her lips curl into a smile.

“i’m sorry,” she says.

silence. then,

“i’m sorry, too.”

it’s quiet again. but they have both said what they need to say. there’s no need for words anymore.

no. yet.

the herscherr stands up and stretches. hua tilts her head up at her.

“i’m bored,” she says. “i’m going for a walk. what, do you need to chauffeur me everywhere i go now, old timer?”

there’s no need, really, but hua stands up, anyway. the look in the herscherr’s eyes is so deadpan and incredulous that hua almost laughs.

“it’s nice to walk around every once in a while,” she replies, and falls to step beside the herscherr, close enough to be casual, far enough that she won’t overstep any lines. she thinks she might be overthinking this.

the herscherr scoffs and crosses her arms. “whatever. suit yourself.”

there is no start nor end to their journey when they are together. up ahead, the road is frail and ephemeral, flowing through their feet like an unending river that never runs out. the herscherr doesn’t talk and neither does hua, and there is something ironic about this. they are together, but one is lost in her own world, and the other is lost within the washed-out walls of their prison.

the river is ceaseless. there are no words spoken at all, but there is a certain comfort about walking with someone else.

between the fractals of a sweet memory, a hoarse voice whispers.

you. who are you?

hua turns to her reflection, only to find the girl behind staring accusingly at her.

“no mercy for the corrupted,” she says, and shatters into a thousand little pieces. she leaves behind a trail of despair and anguished cries beneath her feet as the flame engulfs the entirety of her body.

phoenix, this is you. a heartless murderer.

hua glances away.

off to the side, there is a girl with a gentle smile. she doesn’t know who she is anymore.

the herscherr stops abruptly. hua turns to her curiously.

she’s looking up. her hair spills off her shoulders and falls regally down her back, scattering flecks of shadow down the ground like leaves on a forest glade. hua traces her gaze, and watches the sky weep red in blood and fire.

she purses her lips.

her disciples. the seven swords of taixuan.

they are like age-old nicks on a rickety kitchen table. barely there, overshadowed by scars and jagged cuts and shaved off corners, but there, and if she traces the edge with a fingertip, memories crest over the back of her mind like a flood.

this is you, phoenix. even if she looks away, traces of the history she left behind haunt her every footstep.

“brats,” the herscherr declares proudly. “all of them.”

hua turns to her in surprise. she is still looking up, a fierce scowl wreathed on her lips, and hua is struck speechless at the molten spite turning her eyes into lava.

“you still think they’re brats?” she asks.

a side-glance. “duh. what else would they be?”

hua looks up again. this is the legacy of a heartless celestial: the tragedy, the burning, the betrayal. her legacy. it has been five hundred years since this has come to pass, however. all she feels is a bone-deep tiredness that has seeped into her very soul.

“i thought you only disliked them because you thought you were me back then.”

the herscherr catches her concerned glance and waves her hand. “yeah, yeah, i know. i’m not you. i’m not obsessed with you, you know?”

that draws a chuckle from her.

“it just doesn’t make sense, even from an outside perspective.” she frowns, and hua is struck by the heady rage her eyes hold – for her. “they’re ungrateful bastards. that’s all there is to it. you took them in and gave them a home and taught them how to fight – and that was how they repay you? ha! if that was me, i would have just killed them all right on the spot. no talking or mercy. how dare they.”

this herscherr . . .

there is an inexplicable sensation in her chest. it’s uncomfortably warm and light, a strange blend of emotions that leave her breathless and vulnerable and raw. this herscherr is on her side, despite their differences in the past, despite acknowledging that she is not fu hua, that she doesn’t have any reason to take hua’s side at all.

ah. she raises her hand to her chest.

it is a lovely feeling.

how do you learn someone?

walking alongside the herscherr brought with it the embarrassing realization that while the herscherr knows everything there is to know about hua, hua knows nothing about her at all. she is a herscherr, she is someone borne from fu hua’s own body and otto’s manipulations: a brilliant, free soul with endless possibilities ahead of her.

a free soul that fu hua has bound herself, both with her legacy, and her divine key.

her companion looks up at her, head tilted like a cat. she has been staring for a while, it seems.

hua looks away in embarrassment.

how do you learn someone?

fu hua has always been horrible at making friends. she doesn’t know where to start. she doesn’t even know what to call her.

“hua,” she says, and the herscherr flinches.

“don’t call me that.” her voice is sharp like a rusted knife, quick to slice hua’s tentative attempt at interaction. and then she softens, and the thunderous tempest brewing beneath her scowl lightens to a gentle rain. “that’s your name, not mine.”

she sounds sad.

“then, what name do you want me to call you by?” hua asks mildly.

the herscherr keeps quiet for a while. light glances off the gold on her glove, and idly, her fingers trace a figure onto the shine.

finally, she speaks, but her voice is subdued and cautious; a far cry from her normal loud and cheery tone. it’s so unnatural to hear her so dull. “i don’t know. just. not that.” she glances up. “you shouldn’t even be letting me use your name in the first place, you idiot old timer.”

a deep sigh. “just call me the herscherr of sentience, since that’s what i am, anyway.”

they return to silence. hua rests her chin on her arms, and studies her companion. dark lashes flutter over her dark eyes, and they highlight the shadows underneath her eyes. she can recognize that look anywhere – she has seen this in the mirror since she was reborn in this era as a celestial.

“you can be anyone you want to be,” she says. the herscherr looks up at her, and hua meets her eyes steadily. “you don’t have to be shackled by my memories nor tied up by your identity as the herscherr of sentience.”

it is an echo of her words from taixuan, but it is fitting, nonetheless.

“you’re saying all this now?” a hollow laugh, but there are flashes of the fight they had long ago; they may have apologized to each other already, but old wounds aren’t healed so easily. “aren’t i just a mistake? a stupid, annoying herscherr that you got roped into dealing with?”

“no,” she says, firmly. “you are not a mistake, nor are you honkai’s enforcer. to be born as a herscherr, and to be born inside this body . . . it’s a burden that was thrust unfairly upon you, yet you never once gave in to the corruption. that’s why, you don’t have to be bound by either me or the honkai. you are free to be yourself, whomever that will be.”

it is quiet for a very long time.

“call me sentience,” she finally says. “or senti. yeah. that one sounds good.”

“senti,” she repeats, and smiles. “it’s a very pretty name. it suits you well.”

senti is sleeping against her shoulder.

hua doesn’t know how or when it happened, but senti is sleeping against her shoulder, snoring lightly as she cuddles against her. she sighs. her shoulder is already sore, and she can’t move at all lest she wakes the sleeping girl up.

she looks so calm and peaceful. the omnipresent light inside the feather bounces off the curve of her cheek and down her jaw, winking with the gold on her throat and creating an angel out of her little smile. unconsciously, hua raises her hand and smooths out her unruly bangs, sweeping them away from her eyes.

her eyes flutter open. hua holds her breath as warm, autumn red roses bloom in her eyes, deep and exhilarating like free-falling from the sky and into the sun’s twilight. a thin veil of haze and something soft like cotton candy flickers in her eyes as she looks around in confusion.

“old timer?” she murmurs, voice thick with sleep. hua touches her cheek and pulls her gently down to her lap.

“i’m here. go back to sleep, little sentience.”

they never talk about it again.

wordlessly, they reach an agreement. senti has started sitting next to hua and leaning on her shoulder when she gets tired, and hua has started calling her xiǎo shí. she never complains about the nickname and hua finds herself looking forward to the times senti would rest against her so she can admire how peaceful she looks when she sleeps.

but they never talk about that either.

“aren’t you worried about how the st. freya girls are doing?”

senti is standing before the academy, tall and resplendent as it was before the battle of shicksal. a ghost of a figure passes by her body like wisps of smoke, and she turns towards them as they laugh and talk about lunch.

hua, on the other hand, has one foot inside this world, and one foot out, and the difference between the memory and their prison is a stark contrast. the sunlight in st. freya is warmer, brighter, and the atmosphere is happier and lighthearted. the threat of honkai is so far away from this idyllic home.

“it's fine,” she says, and senti turns to look at her instead. hua keeps her gaze on the distant shicksal symbol engraved in the walls of the academy. “i’m sure they’re doing well.”

her stare burns through her skin and into her soul. “i can’t believe you’re trying to lie to me, of all people.”

senti steps out of the memory, but hua lingers by the outskirts. there, not quite there. a deep longing crushes her bones into jewel dust and forces her feet to stay grounded inside the illusion. one foot in, one foot out, almost there, barely there; she can almost feel the cool, morning breeze that sweeps through the school as she goes about her daily morning routine.

a sigh. “you should just go, old timer.”

hua looks up in surprise, but senti refuses to look at her. “you’re only staying here because you’re afraid i’ll escape and go berserk, right? well, i’m not sure how much it means to you, but i’ll stay here. whatever. the outside world doesn’t interest me anymore, anyway.”

“i can’t believe you’re trying to lie to me, of all people,” she says. senti scowls at her, and hua cracks a smile.

she turns back to the school.

how funny. the place she came to for a mission became one of her most beloved memories.

if possible, she wants to come back. even if all that remains are broken walls and shattered glass and smoke. even if there is nothing that remains at all.

“all right,” she says, and steps fully away from the memory. it collapses and crashes like a wave coming home to the shore. she holds her hand out to senti. “then, i want you to come with me.”

“huh?”

hua smiles slightly. “i want you to come with me. outside this feather.”

senti crosses her arms. “why? isn’t the whole point of this thing to keep me from wreaking havoc on the outside world? what, don’t tell me you fell in love with me and now you’re gonna risk the world for my sake or some shit, old timer, because that’s cheesy as hell.”

“it’s not that,” she sighs. “you don’t deserve to be imprisoned here for sins you didn’t commit. and besides . . .”

“i don’t want you to be alone here.”

red eyes look longingly at her outstretched hand. she will never say this, but hua knows her, and she knows the primal fear of being alone swirling behind those crimson depths. she can mask it with bravado, but hua knows this feeling far too well to be deceived.

senti laughs. “if you keep saying things like that, i’ll really think you fell in love with me.”

hua ignores her blatant teasing as best as she can. it’s not that hard, because senti is more focused on her hand than on the words she says, and she doesn’t even notice the red tinge on hua’s cheeks. she waits, and waits, and waits, but it’s okay. hua is patient enough to wait a thousand years.

hesitantly, senti takes her hand.

“you better not regret this, old timer,” she says, and her words are outlined with a tone that is both awed and reverent, shivering and drowning in her own disbelief. “there’s no taking it back, all right?”

hua smiles at her. “let’s go back together, xiǎo shí.”

#fu hua #herrscher of sentience #sentihua

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hezzabeth · 5 months

Text

Queen Victoria shrugged, an elegant vaguely bored shrug that indicated she was too good for words.

“Perhaps she’s like the legendary Helen of Troy and her beauty has spread across the galaxy” Queen Victoria said. Suddenly the lined up dances began to move, parting like the legendary Red Sea.

Dityaa, beautiful Dityaa was walking through them on the arm of a weedy thin man.

Dityaa seemed oblivious to the fact everyone was staring at her.

No one could tell her that emerald green dress was once an old curtain.

Nanni had done something clever with the fabric. The lower parts of the curtains had been shredded into layers of silk ribbons. The bodice was made using the gold brocade edge.

It swished around Dityaa like floating seaweed.

Her hair was pulled up in romantic violet tendrils with leaves from the garden woven into a makeshift crown.

The skinny man next to her was staring at her with absolute adoration.

No one had ever looked at Revati like that.

They began to dance together, swaying side to side Dityaa’s shoulder on his chest.

“So that’s the Duke? He looks like a weed growing in my gutter” Revati remarked.

“He may look like a weed but he owns a dwarf moon, one with no hostile appliances” the queen confided in her.

Dityaa now had her eyes closed and somehow managed to lean on the dukes shoulder despite being a head taller than him.

Revati had long ago made peace with the fact that unless the war ended she was never going anywhere.

Dityaa on the other hand…

“Is that your sister? She looks a bit like you” Bridgadeiro greeted her this time holding a slice of pineapple.

“Really? No one else thinks that” Revati remarked complete astonished.

“Who is this peculiar man and why isn’t he speaking English? This is regency London” Queen Victoria asked Revati sounding incredibly salted.

“This is Mister Bun, apparently he doesn’t speak English but he has a translator chip so he can understand you” Revati said and Queen Victoria waved her hand as if bored by the entire conversation.

“As you can see your sister is perfectly fine, now please leave! Your presence scares the bachelors” Queen Victoria remarked snapping over her fan as if to dismiss Revati.

There was a sudden scream from the dance floor and Revati’s head snapped togeweds the noise.

Dityaa had broken away from her partner and was now screaming hysterically.

“That witch just tried to kill me!” She shrieked gesturing at a panting woman in a very tight white muslin gown.

“I’m sure it was an accident!” Revati heard the Duke of lo giggle.

Giggle.

He was a giggler.

The lady in white muslin mearly growled still holding what appeared to be a bloody hair pin in one hand.

She lunged towards Dityaa trying to plung it into her chest.

“Oh for gods sake” growled Revati running to the dance floor her skirts swishing around her knees.

No one had taught Revati how to fight.

There were no martial arts experts or professional wrestlers in Olde Landon.

The first time Revati had to figure things out was when the Luddite from Medieval town road in on broomstick horses. They screeched that the “witches” needed to burn and tried to destroy the Victorian chemist.

Amma had shoved Raviti in the pantry with a kitchen knife tell insisting her to aim for the squishy bits.

Here's the improved version with corrected spelling and grammar:

By the time Jay had passed away during the tornado , Ravati's knife collection had ended up filling an entire drawer. Ravati charged behind the woman, knocking her over and digging her knees into the woman's stomach. The woman didn't even scream or react; instead, she shoved Ravati to one side before rolling over. Revati crawled towards her, grabbing the woman's ears and ripping them out. The woman barely flinched before crawling towards Dityaa again, grabbing her ankles.

"Revati! What are you doing here?" Dityaa shrieked hysterically as the woman tried to pull Dityaa down. "Saving you from a psychotic debutante, obviously," Revati sprang back up. A waiter was standing close by, holding a tray of drinks with a stunned expression on his face. "You weren't invited!" Dityaa screamed back, kicking the lady in the face. There was a horrible crunching sound, and the woman slowly stood up, blood dripping down her face. "Well, luckily I crashed the occasion!" snapped Revati, grabbing a glass of strawberry vodka.

The lady slowly glanced around, bloodied, and the moment her eyes fell on Revati, Revati threw the drink in her face. Normally, the strawberry vodka would have blinded anyone. Instead, the lady barely blinked before her wide eyes began to smoke. "Systematic eye failure!" the lady screeched, and then her eyes turned milky grey. Everyone gasped as she collapsed, blood bubbling from her mouth. Revati leaned down, examining the lady's milky, slowly blinking eyes. "Artificially intelligent eye color-changing implants," she heard Bridgadeiro remark, and Revati's lips pursed into a thin line. "Artificial intelligence? Really?" Revati asked, glancing over her shoulder and shooting Queen Victoria a furious glare.

"I'm just as shocked as you are," Queen Victoria stammered, and Revati grabbed Dityaa's hand. "We are leaving now," Revati said firmly. "But the ball!" Dityaa protested. "Do you really want to dance with blood all over your gown?" Revati asked, and Dityaa sighed. "No, I suppose not. Will you miss me, my love?" She asked, turning to the Duke. "I will be bereft without you," the Duke cried, revealing a row of solid gold teeth. An actual tear was trickling down his cheek. Revati merely turned to Aurora, who had arrived, hovering anxiously. "Tell Queen Victoria's accountant that we are canceling the treaty until they can guarantee no one has any AI implants. We can live without pineapples and strawberries," Revati grumbled. "Will do, Mistress," Aurora said with a small bow before scurrying off.

Outside, Dityaa was furious. A furious Dityaa was, of course, an adorable pouting mess. "I can't believe that just happened," she shrieked, stamping her foot. "It's not my fault a lady got hijacked by an AI device," Revati snapped back. "I never said it was! I was so sure the Duke was going to propose tonight," Dityaa sighed with annoyance. "Propose? And you're going to say yes? The boy looks like a string bean," Revati pointed out. "He's nice! And he has a whole moon! A moon filled with harmless appliances and creatrixes that make food! They don't even know what farming is," Dityaa said, a small dreamy smile on her face. "We have to get you back home; you're bleeding into your bra," Revati said, pushing one of her sister's curls away, and there was a faint awkward shuffling sound. "Pardon me, but this should help."

It was Bridgadeiro Bun standing behind her, holding a handful of what looked like dried moss. "Dried dirt? What will it do? Infect her?" asked Revati. "This is healing moss from my dad's greenhouse; it replicates and fixes skin tissue," he said, walking towards Dityaa, took the moss from his hand, and shot Revati a careful look. "Who's this?" She asked. "Some offworld tourist the Hardi brothers kidnapped," Revati said, and Dityaa sighed as the moss shimmered against the puncture wound above her shoulder blade. "It's working," she sighed with relief. "Of course, it's working! I never travel without my medicinal herbs," Bridgadeiro smiled, the same charming, heart-skipping smile. "You can sleep in the kitchen; the streets of Old Landon are far from safe at night," Revati said, and Dityaa clapped her hands, smiling before spinning around. "Does she always spin like that?" Bridgadeiro asked. "Yes," Revati said with a small shrug.

Fog was rolling in across Baker Street, a gravy-thick smog that smelled vaguely like soup. Years ago, the theme park had created "atmospheric mist" machines using the air's humidity. Every day after 8 pm, they would begin billowing, and nobody could figure out how to switch them off.

Here's the improved version with corrected spelling and grammar:

"How does anyone see where they're going?" Bridgadeiro asked, and there was a faint stumbling sound as he tripped onto Revati.

"Hold onto my arm before you kill yourself," Revati said, and he grabbed onto her thankfully.

Revati couldn't explain how she knew where she was going. It was, of course, a mixture of the way light hit the fog, distant sounds, and distinct shadows.

"We're a few minutes away yet; that's the outline of the Oliver Twist and Turn Rollercoaster," Revati explained, and Brigadeiro gripped her elbow harder.

"Why do you all live here? I've visited Brand..." he began.

"And it looks lovely and civilized, didn't it? I'm guessing you weren't there long enough to see what happens when a person violates movement laws," Revati asked.

"Well, no, I just went on a walking day through BritinduSarvadharma's capital," he admitted.

"Did you notice there were no theaters? No concert halls? No sit-down restaurants?" Revati asked.

"No, the tour guide was an automatic shower cleaner that kept making us run loops around an art gallery," he replied.

"Exactly, the appliances see us as nothing more than marching legs! Anyone who can't spend eight hours a day running about gets vaporized," Revati replied with a small shrug.

"And why do they see the world that way?" He asked as the fog turned brighter, and Revati saw her mother standing in the doorway.

"You should ask her; she's writing an entire book about it called 'A Brief History of The Appliance War,'" Revati replied.

Laila and Cora were sitting demurely next to her, the broken leashes dangling from their necks.

"I can't believe you left the children tied to a pole in Whisleton! They're human beings, not walking Venus fly traps," Sugafanna shrieked.

"They pee on the ground! I'll take them seriously when they learn how to use a toilet!" Revati snapped back.

Sugafana then saw Brigadeiro.

"And I see you've brought home another stray; does he speak?" Sugafana asked.

"I'm fluent in Portuguese and plant. I also understand all forms of language," Brigadeiro smiled.

"Very well, your sister is already inside, and your dinner is getting cold," Sugafana said reluctantly, stepping out of the doorway.

#nanowrimo #magic #science fiction #nanowrimo2023 #life on mars #speculative worldbuilding

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unhingedselfships · 10 months

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Making his way absently into the office, Kadokura carelessly pushed through the door.

He wanted to get a few things done ahead of time, clear his upcoming schedule a little.

Open up a bit more free time.

Spotting the woman standing in the should-have-been-empty room, his steps hesitated a moment.

Kimi?

What was she-

It was odd, normally someone informed him she was here.

… Had she slipped in unnoticed somehow?

Whatever. No matter. Sure, he hadn’t been expecting her, and it was odd seeing her without the newest little one.

The kid would have been what, four months now? Three? Something like that. He knew the little brat didn’t much like anyone but her, so it was odd to see them apart.

But it's not like she was unwelcome.

She turned to look at him, and something uncomfortable crawled faintly up his spine.

She didn’t look at him like that when she wasn’t… reacting, to his… mood.

That very particular brand of dazed.

His stomach churned uncomfortably.

“Kenshi,” she breathed out his name and suddenly he resented how it sounded.

What had happened?

Had something, someone, else set her off?

He ignored the distant irritation that anyone else might be able to do this to her.

This was his right.

There was a quiet moment, hardly a handful of heartbeats, but enough for him, now on high alert and studying, to spot the difference.

She was certainly dazed, floating, but there was an edge of something hysteric and desperate to her.

She didn't just tremble, she twitched. Her wide eyes weren't just reverent, they were pained.

Something was happening, but he didn't know what, and he hated not knowing.

Perhaps a bit more terse than he needed to be, he addressed her, “What did you need, Kimi-san?”

She blinked at him, and took a hesitant step forward. Then another. Before quickly closing the gap. All but throwing herself forward, and burying her face against him.

Well, that was annoying. And maybe a bit concerning.

Just a little.

“What-”

She cut him off with a gasp, “Please!”

Plaintive. Whiney. Needy.

“I- I want,” a deep ragged breath, “I need-”

With a scoff he cut her off, pushing her back by the shoulders, “Now now, I never expected this out of you, Kimi-san. What, you get it once, and decide it wasn’t enough for you? Well that’s just too bad isn’t i-”

“No!” she interrupted him with a cry, “That isn’t- I don’t-”

Her eyes were wilder than usual, something almost manic sparking in them.

“Spit it out,” he all but hissed.

“Not- I don’t want- Anyone. Someone, I- ” she abruptly stopped speaking, looking dazed, Distressed.

He huffed a laugh, “What? Did you come here hoping I would, what? Orchestrate your infidelity?”

He was beyond confused, and that annoyance flickering in his chest only grew sharper.

Shaking her head, her face a mess of conflict.

“What did you do to me?” she sounded lost.

Narrowing his eyes at her with a sharp sneer, “No, princess, you don’t get to blame whatever,” he gestured wildly, “This, is, on me.”

“But- I… Please. I need- I don’t want this! But it hurts! I nee-”

“You really think I give a shi-”

“I need to make someone hurt.”

Barely a whisper, and he froze.

Oh. Oh.

“I-” she choked on her own words, pained conflict playing over her “It hurts. I want- I don’t-, I just- I need to-” she spoke in fits and starts, too agitated to complete a thought, “I want to ki-” she choked, almost literally.

She gazed up at him from under wet lashes, fearful and aching, gasping “I want to kill someone.”

She shook harder.

"I feel like I'm coming out of my skin."

Her fingers dug into her forearms where she held herself, tracing marks over old scars.

"I can't- I need it to stop. It won't- Why won't it stop?"

Her lower lip trembled, fear, desperation, playing across her features.

"I need it."

Her wide, dark eyes overflowed.

“I’m so scared, Kenshi. What’s happening to me?”

#yakkimi #kadokura kenshi #kadokura-verse #drabble #one shot

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bokugaos · 3 years

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msby main 5! strapping you to a sybian <33

tw — gangbang, sybian, restraints, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, facefucking, gagging, blow jobs (m. receiving)

your chest is heaving as you calm down from another orgasm. how many times have they pushed your body to the edge? you’re.. you’re not sure anymore.

it is difficult to focus on it when all you have to go on is the spasming of your muscles which haven’t quite stopped around the third time they were teased into contracting until you bit your tongue almost bloody.

your thighs are shaking, trying to push against the bonds keeping you on the infernal thrumming seat, but you’re weak. you can’t do anything but have your whole weight on the sybian, pushing the vibe in deeper. its humming against you is making you go cross-eyed. it is aching now. definitely aching.

“p… please stop.. it’s enough, right?” you try. you don’t talk back to them most of the time and there is no use in getting upset now. they have been ignoring all your pleadings since you were woken up by your first orgasm.

you think it was your first. you’re not so sure anymore.

you’re not sure how they even managed to drag you from your bedroom to wherever this is without you being aware of anything.

they have their face turned towards you but are not reacting one way or another. you’re not sure they are even listening to you. meian has a remote in his fist with which he uses to manipulate the speed and intensity of the toy you are sitting on, but he hasn’t changed anything in a while.

as your muscles start failing you, you are forced to sit on the base of the vibe they pushed into your asshole, making it vibrate with the sybian. you feel yourself going cross-eyed, your belly muscles clenching pathetically as all those sweet little nerves in your entrance are being stimulated.

you’re not used to this. not at all.

bokuto likes to stick his cock up your ass every once in a while as atsumu’s got you bouncing on his cock or when you’re riding his face, but...

shit. you can already feel another one coming. your toes are curling to the point of spasming muscle pains. you try to gather yourself enough to regain some control over your thighs, but there is nothing to be done about it. your body is failing you.

someone moves. you raise your head by a mere inch, just enough to see sakusa come closer towards you.

you stare at him with teary eyes as you start sagging to one side on the saddle you’re strapped on. there’s no way for you to slip off this infernal thing.

you watch as sakusa begins to open his pants, his cock springing free, which he shows off to you. he curls a hand around it and gives it a few pumps, the slick red head is pointed right at your face.

he waits for a moment, as if to give you some time to take in the beauty of his dick after leaving you all alone with the sybian for this long, then reach out and fist fingers in your hair.

you are pulled forward, and you open your mouth without a token protest. tears are at the corners of your eyes as you look up at his torso, your own body on fire as you try to fight against yet another orgasm. you hiccup noisily with the cock still in your mouth, your fingers flexing and clenching into tight, big fists again.

it’s a fucking sight, it is, watching sakusa feed his thick cock into your mouth, and watching your eyelashes flutter in contentment and your pussy gushing some more.

about a half an hour ago, you may have still had a chance of getting into heaven. that has officially gone out of the window.

sakusa is staring down at you without expression. there is no sound coming forth. no reaction. you suckle and play your tongue across the tip, but he is simply staring down at him, not moving one way or another, letting you fuck your mouth on his cock while you try so very hard not to come.

you’ve taken as much of sakusa’s cock as you can into your mouth, but he’s still barely showing you any reaction. instead, he motions for hinata to come closer. and once the latter is kneeling next to you, he takes his hand and presses it to your abdomen and pushes down, forcing you at a different angle.

your eyes fly open and you groan around sakusa’s cock, grinding your hips down on the rubber dick in earnest now.

“good girl,” the curly-haired murmurs, almost absentmindedly. you catch the way hinata’s cock twitches at that, although the man is focused on seeing your eyes water up, whether it’s from the cock in your throat or the praise, he doesn’t know.

you keen in the back of your throat and sakusa throws his head back at the vibrations it sends up his shaft.

he loses control of his hips for a moment and thrusts shallowly into your mouth. your knuckles go whiter where they’re gripped onto the sybian.

“should we turn the speed up?” hinata says, voice lower than you’ve heard it in a while.

sakusa looks down and nods right as you hear atsumu chimes in, “yeah? i bet she’s gonna like that.”

you look up through your eyelashes, tears streaming down the sides of your face. god, you’re a sight like this, with your mouth stuffed full of cock and holding onto the vibrating machine like your life fucking depends on it. you look desperate and like you will come any minute. you keep yourself awake as best you can and take sakusa down further as if to emphasize it.

spit and precum drip off your chin and onto the machine you’re straddling every time you move your tongue, trying your best to make sakusa come even though you fear you might lose all control of your body once you reach another climax. and you’re so close.

you feel like you’re not going to live through another orgasm.

the machine slows down and your eyes roll to the back of your head, momentarily satiated. sakusa steps away, and you use this opportunity to catch your breath, until you realize with a jerk that you have to try to move away. the machine keeps buzzing on a low hum beneath you. your skin is damp with sweat as hinata strokes over the curve of your thigh and runs his fingers through the thatch of your curls with a smile. "you must be so sensitive right now."

your mouth curves in an exhausted smile in hopes of igniting pity in him as you shift on the sybian, trying and failing to lessen the stimulation.

and then meian kicks the dial, turning it to full power.

your eyes fly open and your mouth opens in a violent scream. your back bow dramatically and you come in an instant, continually making loud, wailing noises somewhere between screams and cries. it looks like someone reaches inside you and pulls the few weak spurts of cum out of you. it looks painful.

you’re whimpering and crying, cunt still gushing, but you manage to speak. “n-no… more, p-please..!” your words are incredibly slurred and you can’t open your eyes, but you’re conscious enough to form a sentence. you sob, moving weakly on the rubber cock still buried inside your ass like you can’t help it.

even after what you just said, you still seem to want it, that or your body isn’t even listening to your brain anymore.

you’re positively sobbing, but they’ve never seen you this desperate, it seems hypnotizing.

you’re a writhing mess, looking like you want nothing more than to just fucking come so they’ll stop. actually, that curling in your stomach is eerily familiar.

“alright, my turn,” bokuto says, and at the sound of his voice you drag your eyes open and manage to tilt your head downward to hide yourself. bokuto is standing over you with his hips to your face, and his cock is a fucking mess, red and twitching, coated in cum and precum.

he softly cards his fingers through your hair. you look up at him through your lashes, and tears webbed in them that catches the light. he pitches his hips forward, getting you even messier than you already are as you slobber all over his cock.

you moan in frustration, a distressed sound. you probably can’t even feel the vibrations at this setting after how long you’ve been on it by now. you’re crying in earnest, not just tears from taking bokuto’s cock but actual, real, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

sweat drips down your chest and mixes with the now dried cum on your lower abdomen. you’re in absolute hysterics, bucking down on the light vibrations like you want to get away, and you keep chanting pleas for them to show you mercy, and you’re not even sure if you want them to.

“one more, sweet girl, you’re gonna be so good for us,” meian decides, moving for the dial and turning it up again, notch by notch.

it is all an uphill battle, of course. one you are destined to lose. you sob when your aching body starts spasming once more, your hole clenching around the unfamiliar thick presence spreading you open, body convulsing and out of your control as tears stream down your cheeks and the air freezes in your lungs.

your back curves the opposite direction, sending you hunching forward. your scream is muffled, sweat drips down your face and the side of your mouth, which is still stretched around bokuto’s cock. meian turns the dial once more, and then a final time. you squeak, like there’s so much pressure in your lungs that’s all that could escape, your entire body is twitching violently.

you think bokuto is at least pulling his cock out of your throat for the duration. you’re not entirely sure. everything goes dark around him as you spasm in your orgasm.

#msby smut #bokuto smut #sakusa smut #meian smut #hinata smut #atsumu smut #bokuto x reader smut #msby x reader smut #meian x reader smut #sakusa x reader smut #hinata x reader smut #atsumu x reader smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader sm

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bcdrawsandwrites · 3 years

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Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: K

Genre: Angst, Friendship (sorta)

Characters: Caligosto Loboto, Morceau Oleander, Mrs. Loboto

Warnings: Child abuse (both shown and referenced)

Description: Caligosto had no plans when he ran into the forest. He didn’t fully expect he’d be able to get away, but he didn’t expect to run into someone else, either.

Beta Readers: @jaywings and Pinky G Rocket

Notes: This is based on a sketch I did late one night. In fact I wound up writing out the entire fic shortly after drawing it. I... just like the idea that they met at some point.

---~~~---

The second his mother's back was turned, Caligosto ran.

He didn't have any plans for where to go—only a frantic desire to get away. If his mother noticed, she probably just thought he was running to get one of the good swings before some other kid did.

Your son absolutely has the sickness.

But... I'm not sick, I feel fine.

Never argue with the doctors, Caligosto. Can he be treated?

...Can we speak alone?

Why? Dad, what's—

"Cali! Cali, hey!"

A loud clang cut through his thoughts, and Caligosto stumbled to a halt, looking toward the metal play structure shaped like a castle. Two girls—Debra and Kathy, a couple kids from school—squatted in the entrance to the main tower, smirking down at him. Kathy was holding a little rock against the wall—it must have been what made the noise.

When the girls giggled at him, he realized he hadn't answered them. "What?" he asked, tugging at the hem of his shirt as he glanced out to the far edge of the playground.

"Come up here, we got somethin' to show you!" Debra called. Kathy giggled at her side.

"Yeah! We found some more teeth to go in your weirdo collection!"

He looked back to them, brows raised. But the memory resurfaced of their insisting they'd found a "cool fang" last week, then laughing hysterically when they placed a sharp thorn into his palm.

"Yeah right," he growled, and turned to walk away.

There was a light thwack, accompanied by a sharp pain in the back of his head. He spun around, one hand rubbing the back of his skull while the other one clenched at his side. "What was that for?!"

"What, don't you want more teeth for your collection?" Debra held up another small rock while Kathy fell backwards into the tower, rolling with laughter.

"But those aren’t—"

Debra chucked the rock, and Caligosto reacted automatically with an outstretched hand.

The rock hovered in the air before him. Debra was no longer smiling.

"Uh... th-there's the tooth for you, Cali!" She began to scoot back into the tower. "You can keep it!"

Normally he would leave it at that, just walk away and find someone else to play with, or play by himself. But his chest and eyes were burning, and his head hurt. "No," he said before he could think. "I'll take some of your teeth instead!"

With a yellow flash, the stone zipped back toward the tower. Kathy sat up just in time for the rock to bounce against her head, and screamed.

Panic gripped Caligosto's chest as Debra screamed as well.

"Not fair! You said you wouldn't do that anymore!" She scrambled toward the slide on the other side of the tower. "MOM!"

Breath hitching in his throat, Caligosto broke into a run, following his original route of heading to the far end of the playground. He could barely feel his legs beneath him, and he was nearly struck by one of the kids on the swing set. (It must have been deliberate—he swore he saw the kid glare at him as he passed.) Moments later, he was tearing across the green field just beyond the playground.

What do you recommend?

We'd like to go forward with the procedure.

...He's a child.

A very sick child.

"No, I'm not sick, I'm not sick, I'm fine," he panted. His eyes watered in spite of his glasses blocking the wind. The basketball court was empty today, so he cut through it, heading for the distant line of trees beyond.

He didn't dare look back. At any moment his mother would be coming for him, and she would drag him home, and take away another one of his toys...

"Oh!" he cried, stopping just past the first tree. He hadn't thought to bring any of them with him... Not even his favorite teddy. His mother had threatened to throw it away just last week, and his heart wrenched. His entire body ached to turn back, but a shout in the distance that sounded a bit too much like his mother made him press forward.

"...Too late to turn back now," he said, voice cracking.

This far into the trees, he couldn't run without risk of tripping, but hopefully no one would look for him here. Rubbing the aching spot on the back of his head, Caligosto looked around as he marched forward. He'd explored a little of these woods before, chasing a rabbit into them once. He also knew there was a trail that ran through here somewhere, so he'd want to avoid that if he could.

Truth be told, he didn't know what was past here. But so long as it wasn't his parents or the doctors, he didn't care. Maybe there was another lake with some fish he could try talking to, or maybe a street with a bus station—he was pretty sure he'd kept some quarters in his pocket. Or...

He paused.

Somewhere deeper into the forest, he could hear a sound. It was definitely a person, but it wasn't his mom. In fact, it sounded like another kid.

A kid... crying?

Brow furrowing, Caligosto moved closer to the noise. The closer he got, the louder the sound became—whoever was crying was really wailing. For a moment he worried it was one of the girls, but it definitely wasn't either of their voices.

Whomever it was, they broke off into gross wet sniffles for a moment, trying to get a hold of themself, before breaking down into sobs anew.

Caligosto slowed as he drew nearer to the source, which was somewhere behind a tree. A little sneaker poked out from behind one of the roots—was this a little kid? He crept up behind the trunk, peering around the side, and spotted a fat kid sitting against the trunk, face red and dripping with tears and snot. Notably, a funny little propeller cap sat atop his head.

Blinking, Caligosto leaned in closer. "...Why are you crying like that?"

The kid broke off into a yelp, frantically scrubbing at his face. "I'm not crying!" he said with a hiccup. "I'm a man! Big guys like me don't cry."

Caligosto frowned; even if the kid were standing, he wouldn't come anywhere near his own height. (Then again, few kids did—he was a few inches taller than his tallest classmate.) "It looked like you were."

"I wasn't! I-I'm a b-big strong man... w-we don't cry." He tugged at the grass in front of him, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath through his nose, then out through his mouth. He was shaking badly.

"Okay." Leaning one hand against the tree for balance, Caligosto squatted down next to the kid. "So uh... what are you not-crying for?"

"I... um." The boy swallowed, rubbing at his nose. "I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"M... my dad would be mad."

Caligosto looked around the forest; he couldn't hear anyone nearby. Carefully, he moved his feet out from underneath himself, taking a seat next to the kid. "I don't think your dad's here."

"Oh." The kid looked around, finally turning, then gave a start as his eyes slowly gazed upward to meet Caligosto's. "...You're tall."

The statement made him snort with laughter. "Really? I had no idea." He got down on his elbows and knees before laying belly-down on the ground, glancing back up at the kid. "There, I'm short now."

That got the other kid to giggle, if only for a moment. He glanced away. "...Promise not to tell?"

"...That I'm short?"

"No," the kid growled, ripping up a fistful of grass. "Don't tell anyone about... why I'm not crying."

"Oh!" Caligosto raised himself up on his forearms. "I won't tell."

The kid's mouth wobbled, and he sniffled again. "I—" he began, and his voice cracked. "I-I th-think my dad... w-wants to kill me."

Caligosto froze.

Will he be safe?

We've never done the procedure on a child before. There's no guarantee for his safety, but... he certainly won't get better if left untreated. So what do you say?

...I'll leave it to you, then.

"Oh," he said at length. "Y... you too?"

Slowly the kid nodded... before giving a start, staring at him wide-eyed. "You too?!"

Caligosto's stomach twisted, and he lay back down into the grass, his cheek to the ground. “Yeah.”

"B-b-but why?!" the kid cried. His face had gone paler, his body trembling. "You're tall! You're big! Wh-why would your dad wanna kill you?"

"It's not 'cuz I'm tall," Caligosto grunted. "It's... 'cuz I can do stuff... that I'm not supposed to." He buried his face into his arms. "Cuz I'm sick."

The kid didn't say anything for a long while, and Caligosto wondered if he'd run off in terror.

Instead, there was a whisper very close to his head: "What's the stuff you're not supposed to do?"

Glancing up, he spotted the kid's face inches away from his own. He quickly pushed himself upright to put some distance between them. "Just stuff!" he cried, crossing his arms. "Stuff... like... like moving things without my hands, and setting stuff on fire, and... and..." He fidgeted. "I... I think I can hear fish talk..."

"Oh," the kid replied, eyes huge. He was quiet for a moment, fiddling with the grass before looking back at him. "Well, I can—"

"CALIII!"

Caligosto jumped to his feet, heart hammering, and the kid jumped up with him.

"Cali, you come back right this second!"

"'Cally'? Is that your name?" the kid asked, looking up at him with furrowed brows. "I think your mom sounds mad..."

"I..." he whimpered. "I gotta go." Without waiting for a response, he broke into a run, bolting out into the forest.

"Wait! Uh, come find me again later!" the kid called after him. "Or... or I'll find you! Maybe?"

"CALI!"

Caligosto did not reply, only trying to put as much distance between himself and his mother as possible. But this was the forest, not the field, and his foot caught against a tree root, sending him crashing forward. "Ugh!"

"CALIGOSTO!"

Before he could get back up, his mother grabbed his arm and hoisted him up to his feet, keeping a firm grip. He didn't dare look up at her.

"What are you doing out here?!"

"I-I..."

"Let’s go,” she snapped, tugging his arm and leading him away and out of the forest. “By the way, Mrs. Jameson told me what you did to her daughter. Since you still can't behave, I won't be taking you to this park again."

"Wh-what?!" he cried, and began to pull against his mother's grip. "No!"

"Caligosto," she said, her voice rising toward the end, and he froze up, numbly allowing his mother to lead him.

But he glanced back at the forest, thinking to the kid he'd seen, wondering if some angry mother or or father were dragging him home, too.

I'll... try to find you again, someday, he thought.

Whoever you are...

#caligosto loboto #morceau oleander #psychonauts #my art #my writing #fanfic #tw child abuse

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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Demon Brothers React to MC Getting Kidnapped by Lesser Demons.

Watch out for minor first half spoilers!!

Lucifer

Kicking himself because he has to find out through Mammon that the MC is missing and he didn’t notice their absence himself.

The second the alarm gets raised he gets into a state somewhere between coldly rational and extraordinarily furious.

Definitely still level-headed enough to rally and organize his brothers for a search party but there's nothing but seething rage just rolling off of him the entire time. Probably-could-have-made-another-Satan type rage.

How well he keeps his composure will be based entirely on how long the MC is MIA. The first hour or so will be mostly put together but past that he'll start to slowly unravel as the panic takes hold.

At one point he even gets snippy with Diavolo over the phone and that's when you KNOW that he's reaching meltdown mode.

If he's the first to find the MC, his #1 priority is to get them away from whatever scum grabbed them and take them to the closest safe place he can find. He'd scoop them up so fast they won't even know where he came from, just whoosh! How'd I get on this roof??

Only once they're out of harm’s way will he circle back and deal with their kidnappers personally. You better be sure any damage done to his human will be reflected a thousandfold back onto their attackers. Probably coming back to the MC with some blood on him and is not going to care.

Relieved to have the MC back but restricts them from going out alone after a certain time now for their own good. If they need something that badly, they can come to him.

Also strings Mammon up by his toes that night for losing them in the first place.

"By the time Cerberus gets to you, I'll be sure you're only my table scraps…"

Mammon

The first to notice that the MC was being oddly quiet (thank their father for his text spamming habit) then found their stuff scattered and abandoned at RAD.

Told Lucifer right away and, oh boy, he is a mess: talking a mile a minute, punctuating his sentences with expletives, on the verge of tears, whole nine yards.

He left his human alone for what?? Like five minutes, if even, to go to the library and get themselves kidnapped?! What kind of guardian is he?!?

Already searching the place top-to-bottom without being told where to go or what to do.

He actually ends up a strange inverse of Lucifer. While Lucifer will start panicking more over time, Mammon will start panicking less as his fear escalates to all out anger. Give it a few hours and he’s not even going to be able to keep his demon form under control anymore.

You know this boy is legging it across the entire Devildom himself waving around some kind of hand-drawn "Have You Seen This Human?" flyer looking for any leads at all.

If he were to find the MC first, his first action would probably be to plant his foot right in the face of whoever took them. Hard. Then repeat until their skull’s a caved-in mess on floor. No mercy this time, just pure protective rage.

Following the fight, you'd think he was just reunited with his lost puppy. Lots of crying, hugging, and blubbering out apologies even when the rest of his brothers show up.

Would pretty much be glued to the MC's hip for at least a week afterward and makes more of a point to hang off of them in public now. They're his human after all, can't have anyone else getting the idea of pulling a stunt like that again.

"MC!! What'd ya go runnin' off for?? We're goin' home after I take out this trash, got it!!"

Leviathan

Wouldn't really want to believe it at first because it just feels too unreal, like, the same thing happened to Henry in Episode 86 of TSL when he was kidnapped by enemies of the Lord of Fools and it was up to his true friend to track him down…

Suddenly remembers that Henry was also tortured while he was taken and that really sets in the panic.

Unsure of how to help at first because he knows he's just a useless shut-in but Belphie of all people is the one to remind him that he does have one big advantage over his brothers: a fucking navy.

In an act of surprising backbone, he more or less demands a full fleet of ships from Diavolo and (honestly to his shock) he gets exactly that to comb the Devil’s Sea while looking for MC. Lotan even helps out!

If he were to be the first to find the MC (presuming they are indeed on a boat or something cause 🤷‍♀️) those kidnappers really shouldn't have challenged the third strongest brother in his natural element, eh? Those who aren't automatically lashed in the face or flung overboard by his tail get hung by the leg over the edge of the ship for Lotan to pick off one by one.

Sails back to shore with MC booming with pride that he of all people finally got to be their hero! Will literally be so happy if MC ever brings it up again, doesn't matter how much time has passed.

Things would settle back to normal pretty quickly after that, but he now checks up on the MC a lot more often and will even leave his room for them if they need to go somewhere and don't want to go alone. Can't have this turning into a rerun, you know?

"You hurt my only friend… So drown."

Satan

One guess how the Avatar of Wrath took the news. It's not swimmingly.

Unless your definition of "swimmingly" is a murderous rampage of toppling furniture, breaking windows, and swearing to curse right about anything that moves, in which case aptly put.

He gets stuck in an anger-induced tantrum for a bit before finally getting snapped back into coherent thought by Belphie and putting those mystery novels of his to good use. Smart boi takes second to Lucifer himself in the search, suggesting good locations for his brothers scout based on what clues they have to go on.

Of course, he's not content to just to call orders from the sidelines and is out searching himself like he's on the goddamn warpath. Doors? Who needs doors? If anything the hole I made in your wall is more efficient.

Should he be the first to find the MC he would coolly and methodically subdue any kidnapper he can get his hands on, release his human, and bring them home as soon as possible. They've been through quite enough today and don't need to see anything he's got planned for the bastards later.

But the second that Diavolo puts them in the castle dungeon, you best bet that Henry 1.0 is going to the LEAST of their worries. Who's ever wanted to play a life or death game of hide and seek with a giant snake and the incarnation of Wrath itself? First one caught gets the "quick" death! Any volunteers?

Might give the MC a mild scolding for going out when they shouldn't have but otherwise is just happy to see them back and safe. May act extra soft towards them for a couple days, just until the nerves of the situation finally wear off.

"Don't mistake this for mercy. I assure you, I don't know the meaning of the word."

Asmodeus

Highkey freaking out, like, almost as hysterical as Mammon when he hears the news.

Being the Avatar of Lust, he of course knows there's a whole lot of creeps out there in the world and he is utterly terrified that his poor MC has fallen victim to one at that moment.

For once, all thoughts of himself and his looks are out the window. What? It's past 2am and MC is still gone? I can stay up another hour! Dry shampoo and a washcloth counts as a shower, right? Who the fuck cares, where's MC?? Somebody find them already!!

Pools his contact list with Satan's and starts reaching out across the whole Devildom asking for people to be on the lookout and offer tips. Also begs Solomon to use his magic to help in the search (which he's more than happy to do anyway because he cares about the MC too)

If he were to find MC first it'd be one of those rare cases where he'd be seen really truly enraged. No cute banter, no playful flirting, just telling those worthless scum-vats exactly where they belong and exactly how he's going to put them there. Is it any surprise that he's also madsick with a whip?

Crazy relieved that MC is free, but now it's on them to help him clean up and get back to his prettiest self. I mean, he worried himself half to death while they were gone! All this dirt and sweat going to take three, no four, bathes to fully clean off!! Best hop to it~♡

"Touch them one more time and I'm going to set fire to whatever landfill trash like you crawls out of!!"

Beelzebub

It can't be happening. It honestly can't be happening. First he loses Lilith and now MC?? He can't lose two. He. Can't. Lose. Two.

Pretty much the mantra going through his head as he tears the Devildom apart with his bare hands.

It's 1000x worse than how he gets when he's hungry because at least then he might stop when he finally gets fed. Now it's either find MC or wait until he collapses from exhaustion and hope he doesn’t leave the whole realm a smoldering crater before he gets that far.

There's no reasoning with him either, the best the brothers can do is steer him in a direction and let him loose.

If he found MC first he probably wouldn't even realize it for a bit, he'd just keep attacking whatever or whoever is in front of him on his path of blind destruction. It'd take the MC literally flinging themselves at him or throwing their arms around him to snap him out of it but then it's back to sweetheart Beel.

Hugs ensue. Really tight hugs. Probably a few tears and apologies too (even if it’s not really his fault at all).

Woe to anyone who tries going for the MC once he’s sure he has them because they WILL be broken then eaten. He’ll encourage his human not to look, but some things just have to be done.

Would absolutely carry MC back home and refuse to put them down until the others force him to. The floor may as well be lava planning on taking them away from him too.

Wouldn't care as much about personal vengeance as his brothers as long as MC is safe. He'll trust that his family will more than punish the kidnappers (though chances are he already took a chunk or two out of a few of them during his rampage anyway).

Protective instincts up by 100 after this, though Belphie usually steps in and eases him back a bit when he's about to get suffocating. MC never travels without a buddy now, ever. He just can't risk it.

"MC, I-I'm sorry… I just couldn’t lose you too…"

Belphegor

Keeps the coolest head of all the brothers on the outside, but there's a cold fury building up in those eyes.

Pretty much takes charge of whipping everyone back into gear with a combination stinging remarks and heavy duty guilt tripping. May not be the nicest method, but it's effective.

"Asmo, grow a freaking spine and do something useful for a change! Mammon, this your fault to start with so you ought to be breaking your ass to find them! Satan, watching you is getting embarrassing, pull yourself together and think like you're good at it!"

His harshest criticisms get saved for Lucifer (big shock) but he only dishes them out when he sees his older brother really losing his grip or teetering on losing hope. If the “mighty firstborn” can’t keep it together then why should they even listen to him in the first place?

When he's not administering "motivation," he's keeping tabs on Beel's progression through the Devildom and trying to minimize the damage there. He's the only one that can get through to him long enough to change his course if necessary.

If he were to find the MC first, well, unlike Satan he doesn't have the forethought to save the torture for later. It's happening right here, right now, and you better bet that being the last born doesn't stop him from being a force to be reckoned with.

Waits with the MC for his brothers to catch up to them and deal with any stragglers. May cuddle with them and look like he's trying to take a nap in the meantime, but in truth he's still very alert, on edge, and ready to absolutely wreck shit if anything gets too close to them.

Though it doesn't look like his lazy ass goes through the same protective streak as his brothers, he's a lot quicker to try and convince the MC to stay home now. No out and about=less chance of getting nabbed. Plus he keeps his favorite pillow, win-win. 😏

"What about your worthless lives makes you think you deserve my mercy??"

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #shall-we-date-obey-me

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