#camel mask

[aphelionwrotes11]

MDNI 18+ (not edited)

Part 2

Trucker!simon, who finds himself a lovely bird at a local truck stop he often runs through on his usual routes.

Sits his massive self at the bar on one of the small stools, glaring at any of the blokes who stare at you a bit too long.

Gives you a blank look when you check up on him, asking if he’d like anything else.

“Just anotha’ cuppa, sweet’art” he always says, sliding his mug towards you, which looks microscopic compared to his massive hand.

You think he doesn’t like you, considering he doesn’t ever talk to you much when you try to make small talk, but he always leaves you a fat tip. You figure he’s just quiet. He can’t dislike you that much considering how many times you’ve glanced over your shoulder to see him gazing appreciatively at your ass.

It’s an especially rowdy night at the truck stop that finally breaks the camels back. A real gentleman decided he wanted a feel of you. So he didn’t hesitate to grab a handful of the fat on your backside, his table and him whooping and hollering as you squealed and slapped his hand away, glowering at him as you scampered away to the bar.

You held back tears as you started up another pot of coffee, never were the confrontational type. This wouldn’t be the first time a man had taken it upon himself to put his hands on you, but it would certainly be the last. Considering how Simon was sat at the end of the bar; shaking with rage, his knuckles white from being clenched tight as he stood.

It all happened so quick you didn’t even catch it, you back had been turned. The restaurant went from ruckus, laughter, and loud voices, to silence after the sound of a sickening crack rung through the room.

You turned just in time to see the asshole’s friends jump from their seats and go for your favorite regular; Simon. The handsy asshole laid flat on the ground, out cold.

It took no time at all for Simon to lay out the other three, he was twice each of their size in pure muscle, and obviously lacked nothing in skill. Once he was done he simply turned to you, pointed to the back room and said,

“Go get yer things.”

You didn’t think twice. Passing your manager who stood in the doorway, face solemn. You asked him quickly if it was okay for you to leave, he took one glance at Simon and nodded his head. You grabbed your things, throwing on your coat and met Simon at the door.

He takes your arm, surprisingly gentle for his huge form, he looked enraged. His shoulders tense, brows furrowed, you’re certain if he didn’t have a mask on the lower half of his face he would have a deep frown on his lips.

You thank him softly, following him as he leads you through the full parking lot. He says nothing, staring ahead. You tell him you don’t live far, you can just walk.

“No, you’re not doin tha’.��� He says, and you don’t argue.

Helps you into the cab of his massive semi, getting into the drivers side and turning up the heat.

Offers to get you some food, “haven’t seen’ya eat a bite ol night, bird.”

You refuse, thanking him for the offer, telling him you’ll eat at home. You probably won’t, your stomach is still all twisted from earlier, if he can tell you’re shaken up he doesn’t show it. He just nods.

Takes you to the corner of your street, wouldn’t be able to drive his truck down the narrow road. You thank him again, asking him if there’s anything you can do to repay him.

“I know’a few things you can do for me, bird.” He says lowly, you feel your cheeks warm at the implication. You ask him what he wants. He grunts, glancing to the side as if he’s thinking.

“Gimme a kiss.” He says, tapping his cheek. Your eyes widen, is he serious? Out of all things he could ask for, he asks for just a kiss on the cheek? You shocked to realize you’re disappointed he didn’t ask for more.

He pulls his mask down to his chin, revealing his chiseled jaw and thin, scarred lips. You lay a trembling hand on his giant thigh for support as you lean over, and just as you are about to meet his cheek he tilts his head and has your mouth. Pressing a heated kiss to your lips.

It takes you a moment to catch up, but before you know it you’re in his lap, making out sloppily, mouths open and tongues swirling together. You sigh into his mouth, cupping his jaw as his hand cradles the back of your head.

When you start grinding yourself against him is when he stops.

“Not yet, bird. Gotta take you out first, do it the right way.” He says. The right way? What the hell.

“Take ya for dinner, treat ya real good, take ya home and fuck that sweet pussy halfway to heaven.”

He cups your ass as he whispers that nasty shit in your ear, one hand on your hip as he bucks up once against your wet heat. You let out a whimper and he just chuckles. Asshole.

Jumps out the truck and helps you down with two strong hands on your hips. Walks you all the way to your front door, smiling at your peeved expression. You were definitely gonna have to rub one out once you got inside.

Gives you a sweet peck on the cheek, gripping your chin with his thumb and finger.

“Be here tomorrow a’ seven. Wear something nice.” He says softly before turning and stalking off into the night. Leaving you flabbergasted on your front doorstep.

Note: I dunno if you guys can tell but im incapable of writing anything small. This was supposed to be just a short little thing about how sexy trucker!simon would be but i got so carried away 😭 he’s the ghost that haunts my nights, can’t get him outta my head

Simon Riley master list

[foolsocracy]

BE NICE TO HIM

the meeting of the minds

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: How To Master An "Effortlessly Elegant" & Put-Together Look

Table of Contents:

Treat your skin like royalty

Take ample care of your natural hair

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape

Choose your accessories wisely

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple

Regarding your signature scent(s)

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously

Treat your skin like royalty:

Use high-quality skincare twice a day

Wear sunscreen every day

Remove your makeup every night before bed no matter what

Use makeup that doesn't clog your pores/irritate your skin

Change your pillowcases weekly

Eat plenty of produce & drink lots of water

Prioritize sleep

Limit or eliminate alcohol, cigarettes, caffeine, and processed foods/sugary drinks

Keep your skin exfoliated/derma-planed

Take ample care of your natural hair:

Use high-quality shampoo/conditioner combos that suit your hair type & don't cause build-up

Hydrate with a scalp mask 1-4 times a month

Use cold or lukewarm water to wash your hair

Apply shampoo to the roots/hair covering your scalp and conditioner only on the "ponytail" section of your hair

Use a specialty hair towel after getting out of the shower

Always comb wet hair and brush 1-3 times a day when dry

Limit heat on your hair when possible & always use a heat protectant every time you do

Use non-elastic or silk hair ties

Get regular trims at least 3-4 times per year (get your hair layered if it's very thick)

Try to limit how much you dye or, especially bleach, your hair and do elaborate styles with tons of heat & harsh products

Dress in crisp neutral outfits that cater to your body shape:

Embrace minimalist basics (tees, tanks, blouses, sweaters, jeans, trousers, blazers, leather jackets, coats, etc.) in high-quality fabrics (Pima cotton, Merino wool, Tencel, mulberry silk, etc.)

Choose options in black, white, grey, charcoal beige, navy, burgundy, or cream depending on your skin tone and preferences

Invest in a collection of sleek footwear options (black boots, loafers, black pumps, white sneakers, etc.) in minimalist, timeless styles that suit the color palette, hemlines & proportions of your go-to outfits

Ensure your shoes and accessories feel proportional to the weight/silhouette of your outfit, color-coordinate with the rest of your look, and have streamlined hardware from head-to-toe (all silver, all gold, or one piece that mixes silver/gold and another gold & silver piece each to balance out the color palette)

Keep all of your clothes steam and lint-rolled, so they look crisp & fresh all-day

Befriend your tailor to take in or let out clothes as needed when purchased off the rack

Choose clothes/styles that flatter your body shape and proportions

Utilize belts and bra tape to adjust the waist, keep shirts tucked in, and keep straps from falling down or create an impromptu cuff/hem on your pants

When in doubt, select a neutral head-to-toe monochrome outfit

If on a budget, consider choosing black, grey, camel beige items to hide fabric imperfections that could cheapen your look

Choose your accessories wisely:

Select sleek, simple neutral (& almost exclusively) monochrome shoes made with smooth (recycled/vegan) leather with

Pair almost any outfit with a shoe featuring a slight platform, block heel, kitten heel, and/or a sharply pointed toe to elongate your silhouette

Complement your outfit with structured, pared-back handbags with no logos (Focus on quality and construction, not the brand name) in a neutral shade and timeless silhouette

For jewelry, choose at most one statement piece and all others should be focused on different areas of the body (e.g. don't mix statement earrings with layered/bold necklaces or stacked rings * bracelets). When in doubt, choose simple diamond chains or earrings, sleek bangles or chainlink necklaces & bracelets, simple pendant necklaces, and minimalist rings in hardware that all go together

Embrace feature-enhancing makeup:

Cover up any dark circles, blemishes, or hyperpigmentation with a color-matched concealer

Lightly contour with a bronzer that complements your skin tone

Fill in your brows for a naturally full look (or get them professionally tinted)

Apply a light wash of rose, coral, or mauve blush

Use black mascara with a little bit of eyeliner and/or a subtle wash of brown eyeshadow on the lids

Apply a "your lips but better" nude shade or "just kissed' berry lipstick or pigmented lip balm for a subtle wash of color

Keep your nails clean, filed, and simple:

Maintain cut, cleaned, and filed short nails

Opt for a square or almond nail shape

Choose a timeless nail shade (pink, nude, red, beige, dark cherry, navy, dark purple, black) with no nail art

Hydrate your hands and scrub under your nails daily

Regarding your signature scent(s):

Ensure your body wash/lotion and perfume scents don't clash

Test perfumes for a trial day to ensure they smell divine with your unique pheromones

Choose a fragrance appropriate for the seasonal/occasion

Apply a dab on each wrist and on your neck/behind the ears. If the scent doesn't project well on you, try applying these small dabs on the cuffs and shoulders of your jacket/walk into it to get it on your hair (if it would stain your clothes)

Don't layer more than one heady perfume at a time or scents that don't have complementary and/or shared notes

Follow your dental & bodily hygiene routines religiously:

Floss every day (after each meal if possible)

Brush your teeth with an electric toothbrush twice a day

Have mints on hand if you're a garlic, spice, or coffee lover

Keep your lips & hands well-moisturized and protected with SPF

Shower your body daily and be extra diligent in scrubbing your privates, everything behind, and under your arms

Don't use very hot water in the shower (it burns/dries out your skin)

Exfoliate 2-3 times a week with a sugar scrub

Moisturize daily or anytime you get out of the shower

Apply SPF on any exposed sun (especially in the summer or when the UV index is high in your area)

[alchemistc]

911 was always in my periphery bc of how popular Buck x Eddie is on Tumblr and Ao3. I didn't really want to watch a cable network procedural drama, especially one that came off as so unserious. I could also see how such invested shipping by a lot of fans who are young and think it’s ok to demand things from the cast and crew would inevitably become a toxic cesspool. I stand by that assessment of the show based on the behavior of the fandom these last months, as well as the overall quality of the writing and how often good story lines just get dropped or undermined.

However, I heard about Buck coming out. Over the summer, I was going through a lot and feeling aimless, so I finally started watching the show. And I liked Buck and Tommy, but what I really loved was the quality of the fan works they inspired. At the end of the day, I never really had real expectations of high quality television from a show like 911; that’s not what it’s for.

Despite this, what really affected me last night—which was also the first episode I bothered watching live ever because of how terrible this last week has been—wasn’t even how badly it was executed or the fact that they broke up. But how unnecessarily and viciously cruel the whole thing felt?

What was the point of showing Tommy as a caring, supportive, present partner in the previous episode if it was going to lead to an unceremonious break up? What was the point of showing his yearning for connection and family only to see him throw it all away? Why have him say such wonderful things about Buck moments before questioning the commitment of their relationship after six months together? What was the point of Buck getting that speech from Josh and bringing up marriage and moving in together and that Tommy had been a transformative relationship when it was going to end with him being dumped? It just felt so horribly cruel to see a character bare his tender heart and see it get stomped on. He looked so sad at the end.

Up till the very end of the episode, I was actually really enjoying it. Their acting was so good from heart eyes to heartbreak, and the show seemed to understand Tommy’s reaction to Buck getting hit on by those women would cause friction. It even made sense to me that Tommy would recoil at the prospect of moving in together because Buck clearly hasn’t come to terms with being queer yet (sir, you haven’t researched the Kinsey scale? You?) And Tommy is also clearly afraid to reach for the connections he wants and the seeming inevitability of his heart being broken and is masking that with nonsense about Buck needing to play the field and the biphobia present wherein. It was such an interesting depth to his character! I thought the break up speech was so well-acted, and I was so ready for the conversation they were going to have that would address it and let them move on together stronger. To see Buck learn from Josh and see the scars Tommy was unintentionally revealing in that moment and address them.

And then the credits started rolling and I felt like I got punched in the gut.

It was definitely the straw that broke the camel’s back for me, with the election and other personal stuff really stressing me out this week. Last night, I felt sick and unable to sleep, and I spent the morning bawling my eyes out. It feels like one of the few things I really looked forward to had been snatched away for the shock factor. I believe the interviews are the definite death knell, but even if you don’t follow the interviews, it was just a cruel way to end the episode. Even if this ends up being a temporary roadblock or they “fix” it, it’ll always leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyway, I’m upset that I let a show I always knew wasn’t very good affect me this much, and I regret spending months of my life on it. But the reason I wanted to send this ask was because my real hyperfixation these last few months was never the show itself; it was always the Bucktommy fandom. Reading some of the most beautiful fanfiction, including yours, these deep and intense character studies or au’s or future fics that show more love to these characters than the show does. The stunning art, the lovingly rendered gifs, the startlingly funny and insightful writing. The fandom has been my real love, and I hope that despite this huge blow, people like you will continue being so immensely creative and artistic for this ship.

I’m sorry this has been so long and vent-y, but I wanted to send you this ask because you’re one of my favorite fic authors, and I’ve been following your posts since last night and you’re still responding to anonymous asks. I’ve always been stealth in the fandom to avoid certain parts of it, so didn’t want this on my own blog. If you do publish it, I hope the other authors and artists and creators who have made my life better get to see it too <3 And that they don’t regret the time and passion and love they’ve poured into the last few months. I have appreciated it, if nothing else.

Hi.

First of all, please don't apologize for the length of this.

Everything you pointed out were exactly the reasons people joined this fandom. Everything you listed here is EXACTLY the reason it left such a bad taste in our mouth.

I'm sorry I won't be more eloquent in this post, because this is such a kind and thoughtful and lovely summation of all the things I've been hearing and seeing and feeling.

The point of all that, if we are to believe Lou (which I do, and honestly props to him for being as gracious as he was in those post-mortems: fucking TWO exit interviews for a guest star? wtf abc), WAS to pull the rug out from under the audience. It WAS to end it all on a shocker of heartbreak. They filmed the bulk of Tommy's S8 scenes AFTER the breakup. It is absolutely vicious and cruel and meant to make people talk about it. The engagement they are getting right now is to some extent WHAT THEY WANTED. I went straight to my notes after work and I can't be fucked to check the insta or FB to see if they've posted anything new and/or what the comment count is on the 8x06 posts but THIS IS THE INTENDED RESULT. Broken hearts, upset people, an increasingly toxic fandom crowing.

That's where I'm at. I think that's where a lot of people have landed. And it's so disheartening to see something that really genuinely drew people in because it was handled so gently and kindly at first just be ripped away and the door shut on it.

And honestly if they close the mid season OR open or close 8B on a premise that includes one of them being injured and the other having a Realization™️ I won't trust this team to do it genuinely or truly. Even the breakup would have held so much potential for me, but not like this.

Anyway. I'm sorry you're feeling so disappointed. I am grieving the missed potential of literally every plot they built up this season for every character and if I do watch it won't be live and I will likely have very little trust for it's potential. There has been So Much wasted potential.

And I want to say thank you. Even if you lurked, even if you disengage now, the creators who made those works made them out of love and they wanted to share them and the community around it all has been lovely to see. Thank you.

Some of us will still be hanging around building the world that could have been. I hope, if you feel up to peeking at that sandbox, that you feel welcome to go play in it or even just clap from the sidelines.

♥️

[certainlynotasimp]

HAVE YOU SEEN SHADOW AND BONE?? THERES THIS CLIP OF THIS COUPLE WHO ALSO EXISTS OUT OF A SORT OF SUNSHINE X GRUMPY TROPE AND THE CLIP IS SOSOSOOS CUTE. the more sunshine character is like feeding the grumpy character some sweets. wait i’ll add the link to the video, anyways i would love to see sunny and miggy in a scenario like that, and the rest of the spideys just looking at them in awe.

https://twitter.com/yuliankostov/status/1388807975029166083?s=46&t=WRllkwsz5bskkR6yQEcFtw

Sweet as You

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

A/N: I’ve never seen Shadow and Bone, but that scene was so ADORABLE! 🥹 I literally spent my whole lunch break writing this and thank you guys so much for the amazing support!

Warnings: Alludes to Sunny’s backstory, No use of Y/N, established relationship?, female reader, Grumpy x Sunshine.

I still haven’t seen the movie, but some of what happens was spoiled for me. This takes place before https://www.tumblr.com/certainlynotasimp/719098951359496192/walking-on-sunshine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean that little nerd has two spidermen there?!” Miguel snaps at Lyla as the other spidermen watched.

“Exactly as I said,” the AI said nonchalantly. “Peter Parker from Earth 19999 and his Doctor Strange has caused multiple inter dimensional rifts and even involved Spidermen from T-200001 and R-2011005.”

Hobie snickers as Miguel looks like he’s about to pop a vein as he examines the inter dimensional damage this event is causing. Jessica sends Hobie a scolding glare before looking at her leader with a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure whatever is happening is being handled.” She soothes. “Didn’t you send someone out there to monitor the situation, Lyla?” Jessica tries to ease his worries by hoping Lyla sent in someone equipped to handle the situation.

“Of course.” The AI calmly says as she looks over the reports. “I sent the new recruit, “Spider-Gwen”, along with Spider-Woman 16457-0…”

The whole room went silent for a moment as they realize that Lyla just sent the one person they hoped wasn’t sent in.

Jessica looked at Miguel only to see him glaring a Lyla, looking like he’s about to go ballistic. “Hey Lyla, it’s not a good idea to joke about sending Sunny off on some mission-“ Jessica nervously laughs as she notices Miguel’s talons growing out of his finger tips.

Lyla, clearly not bothered by the tension in the room, scoffs. “Who else would I send to handle this? Better to send someone who doesn’t have a dimension to protect to a potentially doomed one.” She reasons.

And that was what broke the camel’s back.

“LYLA, I SWEAR TO-“ Before Miguel could snap at his AI, all the the abnormalities on the screens resolved themselves as Lyla smiles.

“Mission successful. Spider-Gwen and Spider-Woman are heading back to the Lob-“ The AI is interrupted when Miguel shuts her off. Everyone cautiously avoids eye contact with their leader as he sits back into his spot, the tension still lingering like a fog.

A bright glowing portal appears above the table and two figures drop down laughing.

��That was amazing! Did you see how that building just twisted like paper?” Gwen laughs as Sunny smiles back at her.

“That was fun!” The spiderwoman giggles as she takes in where they landed. “Miggy!” Sunny exclaims as she sees her tall companion, her mask disintegrating so her excited gaze meets his frustrated one.

Gwen notices the tension filled room of her colleagues and jumps down beside Jessica and Hobie while Sunny plops right infront of Miguel. Before she could ask about what was happening, Jessica shushes Gwen and watches the two spiders interact.

“What’s wrong, Miguel?” Sunny tilts her head as she looks at his deep frown.

“Nothing.” Miguel snaps as his harsh stare examines her body. Upon realizing that the damage was minimal, his annoyed expression softens to mild irritation.

Sunny still frowns at his before an idea causes a smile to form on her face. She reaches into her hip bag and pulls out a small ziplock bag. Miguel raises an eyebrow at the shorter woman as she opens the bag and presses a small piece of candy to his mouth. He moves his head so the sticky hard candy misses his mouth as he grumbles.

“Sunny, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to get that bitterness out of your face, Miggy.” She answers back as her free hand grasps his chin. Even though he’s stronger than she is, he rolls his eyes and lets her move his face back. She attempts to press the candy to his lips but he doesn’t comply with a slight hint of a blush on his sharp cheekbones.

“Miguel..” Sunny growls in frustration, which sounded more adorable than intimidating to Miguel. Her brows furrowed as her eyes burned in annoyance. Her mouth twisted from its normally cheery position into a deep pout.

Miguel’s annoyance disappears as he admires her, his eyes shining with a brief moment of awe. Before he can realize what’s happening, Sunny pushes the hard candy into his mouth with a victorious smile. Miguel looks at her in shock before rolling his eyes, the adoration still lingering behind the false annoyance.

“See? There’s my sweet Miggy.” Sunny hums as she lets go of his face. The warmth from her hand left his face burning despite the breath of relief that left his nose. The fear of almost losing her again was unbearable, so seeing her smiling at him again with those same warm eyes made his own lips curl slightly.

Before he could reply, a snort of muffle laughter breaks the bubble around them.

Jessica lightly smacks Hobie as Miguel’s eyes glares at the forgotten audience around him and his Sunshine. Hobie controls his fit of laughter at the sight of his ruthless leader putty in the small spider’s hands as Miguel focuses on him.

“I’m sorry, boss.” Hobie gasps to catch his breath. “It’s just-“

Before any of them can explain themselves, orange portals appear below them as Miguel seethes with a look of embarrassment, “Get out.”

As all the spidermen are teleported out of the room, Gwen looks to Jessica as they all land in the lobby. “What was that about?”

Jessica chuckles as her eyes shines at the younger spider warmly. “That’s what a whipped man looks like.”

She laughs as she realizes that Sunny wasn’t kicked out of the meeting room like the rest of their colleagues.

~~~~~~~~~

What adventures should they get up to next?

[latenightdaydreams]

Please can you write about ex boyfriend Konig can't moved on from reader. He sneaked in her house and raped her. She resist him at first but then he just dicks her down.

You Can't Leave Me (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, rape, stalking, toxic ex, p in v, oral

1.8k word count

🚫

.

.

It’s now been eight months since you’ve broken up with König. When you found out about the trackers he put on your phone and car, it was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Since then, you’ve moved into your own apartment an hour away from König. Your phone number has been changed along with all social media deactivated.

The last several months have been hard, but you’ve been pushing through so well. Too well, actually. König never lost track of you. He knows your new address, phone number, job, and schedule. You changed your scenery, but not who you are. So, when you left one day, he knew where to look.

Of course, you move to your favorite city. You know König hates the city. He never wanted to move here. You move into the apartment that is only ten minutes from a bookstore, one that you become a frequent customer of quickly. König knows you like the back of his hand. There is no escaping him.

One thing he didn’t expect was you finding someone so quickly. It’s only been eight months. You were together for five years. It should take you longer to move on before realizing there is no one else for you. What the fuck is this?

König walks behind you at a distance as you walk to your date. Wearing a yellow summer dress compliments your body, paired with white sandals. Is that…make-up? That’s not right, you don’t wear make-up; you don’t need it. You’re so naturally beautiful. 

He watches you walk into a café. A very handsome brunette man stands and hugs you. His hand resting above your ass, comfortable with your body as if he’s touched it already. When did he miss this? He glares at the two of you before walking away and going to your apartment.

While you’re out on your nice little date, König breaks into your apartment. Not really breaking in when he finds your spare and uses it, right? He enters your apartment for the first time, taking a deep breath. It smells just like you.

König walks throughout your home, looking at the new photos on the wall of your city friends. One of you with this new guy. He knocks it over. He continues on to your bedroom, seeing your bed is messy; you never make it. His eyes drift to the floor where he sees a pair of black underwear. With little thought, he stands and walks to them. A little white stain, you were aroused? By what? Who?

König lifts the underwear under his mask and to his nose, taking in a deep breath. Exquisite. He shoves the underwear into his pocket and keeps looking. Stepping into your bathroom, he turns the light on. His eyes fall to a little purple case near the sink. It can’t be. Is his little Schatz on birth control?

A sharp stinging feeling deep in his gut travels up to his heart. The mental image of that pathetic worthless man going raw into his Kleine Perle disgust him. You’re whoring yourself out, he knew you’d be lost without him.

He turns the light off and sits on the toilet, pulling out your panties to sniff while he waits for you. An hour passes and he began to grow worried that maybe you went back home with that loser. Right as he was going to check his phone, he hears your keys in the door.

You enter your apartment while on the phone. For safety, you always call a friend while walking.

“Yeah, I’m home now though. I love you, Ann. I’ll see you Tuesday.” Once you hang up, you kick your shoes off and place your purse on the hook.

As you pass your photos in the living room, you notice the photo of you and Finn has been knocked over. A wave of anxiety rushes over you. You try to reason with yourself. It’s almost been a year and you’ve never seen König. He’s probably moved on the same way you have.

You enter your bedroom and turn the lights on. The door closes behind you as you take off your dress, tossing it into the hamper. You grab out a pair of pajamas, placing them on your bed. Reaching behind your back, you unhook your bra, tossing it aside. When you do, you look down at the floor and notice your black pair of underwear is missing.

Maybe you put it in the hamper? Slowly, you walk to the hamper and look inside. At that moment, your bathroom door opens. Your eyes go up and meet the dreadful pale blue eyes. Your heart beat sky rockets, your feet moving ahead of your brain as you turn to run.

König is fast. He reaches out and wraps his arms tightly around your stomach. Lifting you in the air as you kick and scream, slamming you down hard on the bed. The air leaves your lungs and your screaming stops. König pulls out your underwear from his pocket and shoves it into your mouth. He grabs your arms and pulls them behind your back, pulling off his belt with one hand and tying your hands together.

When you try to kick him to get away, but he just climbs on you, resting his weight on you. “Where are you trying to go, Hase?” He growls.

Your screams are muffles as you try to squirm away from König.

“I saw your birth control pills.” He grabs a fist full of your hair and pulls your head back. “That is still my pussy. You are still mine.”

You shake your head no and try to break free from his grasp. His 6 ’10 280 lb body is just too big to fight back against.

König’s hands begin to travel along your mostly naked body. Your skin is just as soft as he remembers. His finger hooks your panties and moves it down. You buck backwards like a horse and try to kick him. A heavy hand comes down and spanks your ass cheek, you whimper.

“Stay still. I don’t want to have to hurt you.” König finishes pulling your underwear off completely before standing off of your body and getting undressed.

“It’s a shame you thought that you could get away from me. Bigger shame you decided to give away my body to another man. You know I don’t like that.” You can hear his pants drop to the floor finally.

König walks to your body and drags you to the center of the bed. He joins you on the bed, spreading your ass cheeks and pushing his face between them, taking a deep breath.

“That’s still my fucking pussy.” He grabs your ass and jiggles them before climbing over you, one leg on either side of your thighs.

His heavy cock slaps against your cheeks. He spits in his hand and rubs it around the tip of his cock, rubbing the tip along your folds. The feeling of his cock being pressed up against your entrance makes you squirm your hips, but that doesn’t stop König.

König spreads your ass cheeks with his hands so he can have a clear view of your pussy. He looks down at you and pushes himself into you. You tense up, only making yourself tighter for him. A loud moan leaves his lips as he buries his cock deep inside of your pussy.

He doesn’t allow you any time to adjust to his enormous dick as he slams his hips into you. You shake your body, trying your best to break free of his belt around your hands. Eventually you manage to spit your underwear out.

“Stop!” You cry out as you kick your legs as you writhe under him.

“Just take my cock.” He groans.

One of his hands comes down on your head and pushes your face into the pillow, holding you there as he picks up his pace. He rams his cock hard enough to cause pain, forcing the full length of his cock into your tight cunt. Your cries are muffled.

König yanks his head back and forces your head up. “What? You can’t handle my cock anymore?”

“Fuck you! Get off of me!”

“What? You don’t like my cock anymore?” He asks in a condescending tone.

“No!”

“Shut up.”  He pulls his cock out of your pussy, grabbing you by your hair and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

König puts you on your back and slaps his cock on your lips, rubbing it back and forth. You try to turn your head but he grabs your jaw and forces you to stay still. The tip of his cock presses against your lips pressed tightly together.

“Open.” He lightly taps the side of your face.

Your mouth opens and König shoves himself inside. He forces his way into your throat, finger tracing the outline of his cock appearing. You gag, causing spit to come out of your mouth and on to your face. König keeps pressing in until his balls are resting on your face. Not being about to breathe, you kick and arch your body.

“Shhhh, calm down. You can take it.” He pushes even further.

König begins to rock his hips, fucking your throat. His heavy balls hitting your face over and over. This causes you to gag again and you throw up, turning your head to the side and vomiting on the floor. He laughs, “Are you going to be a good girl or should I keep going?”

“I’ll be good.” You pant with tears in your eyes.

“Gut.” König growls as he walks to the other side of the bed, joining you.

He lays behind you, lifting one of your legs and tells you to hold it. His hand covered in your spit handles his cock as he slips it into your pussy. Your gummy cunt welcomes him back. König grabs your face and turns your face to his.

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Mine.”

“Say it, Schatz.” His voice trembling as he bullies his cock deep inside of you.

You try to suppress the orgasmic feeling his cock gives you. As much as you like Finn, his cock is nothing compared to König’s. No matter how toxic König is, you can’t help but to miss him.

“Yours.” You moan out bashfully, hating yourself.

“What was that?” A grin crosses König’s lips.

“It’s yours!” You angrily moan.

“Fuck yes!” König rolls his body on top of yours, your leg pushed over as he grasps your hip and thigh. As he thrust into you, he pulls your back to meet his thrust.

Pitiful mewls freely leave your lips; a mixture of shame and euphoria consumes your whole body. You look back at him, your eyes meeting, as you see the same possessive glare in his eyes as he always has. Will you ever escape this man?

[inbabylontheywept]

What Talon And What Dreadful Claw

I wrote this in response to this prompt. Ivan Alexander recorded this story, so if you like audiobooks, click here to listen. I cannot understate how talented he is.

She’d watched him walking over the horizon for almost six hours now. She loved getting guests - loved seeing the resignation of men half dead with thirst, trading certain death in the sands for possible death near her waters.

And they were hers. The promise of Ramses still stood, even if it had been a millennium since the concord. By rite of blood and writ of paper she was the queen of the deeper duat. And it was a queen’s privilege to choose her guests. And, occasionally, kill them with her claws.

She could have flown over, but she had time. More time than anyone. More than enough time to wait.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒

Her guest was not half dead. He was, to be technical, less than a quarter dead, but that was only if you measured things in years.

He was young. His face certainly seemed less lined than her own. There wasn’t much else she could judge age from - the lines of her form folded into wings and furs and claws at the same point that his folded into silks and beads.

He’d prepared for the meeting by bringing a wealth of spices. It was a trick common to royal travelers: If sweat couldn’t be prevented, it could at least be masked. She could still pick traces of it up under the sandalwood and myrrh, but it was pleasant. Salty and metallic and sharp, underneath all the soft wisps of smoke.

He’d brought her gifts. When she told him that the gifts were not acceptable as passage, he said that wasn’t how gifts worked. Gifts weren’t given in exchanges - they were given for the joy of giving. And it brought him joy to share with her.

She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she simply asked if he intended to cross through her duat.

“Maybe,” he replied. “What’s your price?”

“A riddle,” she’d said. “If you get it right, you can pass. But if you get it wrong, I will devour even your bones.”

He grinned and it wasn’t false bravado. He’d known the cost before she said it.

“I love riddles. I accept.”

She loved this part. She loved the tension of it, that singular moment of truth where she wasn’t just a mind or a monster, but something straddling both worlds.

She spoke.

“I can survive beyond death, but can be broken without force. I can summon without breath but-”

“A promise.”

She looked at him wide-eyed. It wasn’t her best riddle, but it was one she’d made herself. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy.

She let him pass but she did - to her great shame - sulk. To his credit, he only lingered an hour or so in the shade of the oasis. There was a longing to him that she couldn’t describe. It unsettled her, but it went away when he took his camels and continued past, traveling on into the deep duat.

She forgot about his gifts until long after he’d passed the horizon. She’d expected human trinkets - gold and gems. Useless baubles. The pelts that had been carefully rolled up and placed inside the chest were strangely thoughtful.

She carried them back to her cave, and laid them flat across the floor. That night she slept better than she had in many, many years. In the morning, she woke up and smelled myrrh, and was almost happy to imagine the prince coming back. If she was disappointed to realize that the smell was coming from the scents soaked into the furs, that was a secret she could keep even from herself.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓐭

It was a week before he came back.

She recognized his outline on the horizon. She had a good memory, and beyond that, he’d made quite an impression on his first meeting with her.

He’d begun to run low on his spices, and his clothes were looking far more rumpled than they had at the start. That travel was beginning to wear him down should’ve meant nothing to her. Now, she felt odd. Would she still feel victorious if he failed her riddle? Or would it haunt her, knowing she could only catch him at his worst?

(Did she want to catch him?)

She waited for him to make it to her oasis again. It seemed to be part of the ritual, to sit and watch the speck on the horizon grow to the size of a man. They didn’t exchange pleasantries when he arrived. Instead he gave a small nod to acknowledge her before climbing down from atop his camel. She hadn’t demanded it prior because she knew all too well how easy it was to catch a camel, but there was still something respectful in the gesture. Here was a prince willing to die with dignity. Here was a man who lived and died by rules.

Could she be blamed for admiring that?

Only when he was fully settled in to listen did she begin her riddle.

“Toothless maw that eats all these:

Raw flesh, dung, fresh air, and trees.

At night I’m bright, in day I’m black,

I die, I’m gone, but always back.”

She was on the third line when she saw his face light up. He waited to answer this time, more focused on being polite than showing off how clever he was. She liked that. She knew he was clever, but now she knew he could be patient too.

“A campfire.”

It was one of her favorite riddles, and the joy she got was twofold. She was happy for the prince, happy that he would survive another day, and happy for herself too. It was infinitely preferable to lose with skill than to win through circumstance. She would feel robbed, if she had to eat the prince on a bad day. If he lost, he needed to lose at his best. He needed to lose in a way that mattered.

He went through the oasis again, but lingered far longer. They spoke in moments about each other’s lives - her memories of the time before even Ramses, and his experience as the seventh in line to the throne. He was trusted to act as an emissary specifically because he was so far from inheriting the throne.

“Not that I’d want it anyway,” he said. “A camel is a better throne than any silly golden chair. The seat in the palace only lets me see the bald spot on the high priest’s head. The saddle on this camel lets me see all the beauty in the world.”

His head wasn’t turned towards her when he said that, but she could see his eyes glance over her.

It was easy to pretend she didn’t notice, and he did nothing to press it further. She showed him the best trees for picking dates, the best ponds for catching fish, and the first cave she’d set her lair up in - back before even Ramses. Back when she was much, much smaller.

She slept in the next morning. The sunlight made a soft beam through the cave, over the pelts, before landing across her face. Any other day it would’ve been a wonderful way to wake up, but the realization that she’d missed her chance to say goodbye made her scramble. She made a short flight over the waters to see if he was gone, and got her answer before even landing - there was no camel tied to the palms.

Still, he’d left her a gift. The boar roasting over glowing coals had clearly been caught the night before, and the fact that it was unspiced meant it was for her.

It was also another oddly thoughtful gesture. How many humans would realize that unseasoned meat was a sphinx’s preference? How many would research that far?

She landed near the meal and approached. Down on the ground, there was so much more detail to see. The tracks of the camel, the care taken to not leave a mess. The simple note left besides the firepit.

She reached out and read.

I’m sure you don’t depend on travelers for your meals

But I do feel bad, having deprived you twice.

Enjoy the boar. I will be back in two weeks.

She hadn’t taken a bite yet, but she could pretend the warmth in her stomach was the meal. Two bites was all it took to make the illusion complete.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒

She waited until the fifteenth day before flying.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected - a sandstorm, perhaps, or a heatstruck camel. Instead, it was only a few minutes flight before the smell of blood caught in the back of her throat.

It was hard to describe what happened after that. Sometimes, she was more mind than monster. Sometimes, she was more monster than mind. That day was a monster day.

He’d lost a lot of blood by the time she found him. A frankly terrifying amount of blood. She could carry him back to the oasis, but that’d only delay the inevitable.

But sphinx knew many things that humans did not.

She carried him, and he was light in her claws. Light in the way that humans were, but some small, scared part of her brain was worried that the blood loss made him lighter still. Like a date left in the sun.

She followed the trail through the desert until she found the thieves that did this. They had his gifts and his spices. They’d have taken the clothes off his corpse if they’d been able to catch his camel.

They’d have taken his life. The one human life she’d valued in one-thousand years, and they’d have taken his life.

It was hard to hate humans. They were so small and short lived that taking them personally felt childish. But this day, she hated, and it made killing easy. Five of the six bandits were extraneous. The last, thankfully, had blood that smelled like the prince.

(He was much less thankful about this than she was).

She took them both back, the prince held gently in her front talons, the bandit half crushed in the back. The transfer spell took exactly as much as it needed. It would’ve been crueler to let the bandit suffer the same fate he’d intended to inflict on the prince - to struggle on with too little blood, until his body failed. It was tempting, but she felt a sick gratitude that he had what she’d needed when she needed it, so she made the end quick. Or, quick enough.

Thirty seconds isn’t long, but it’s an eternity when falling.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒

The prince recovered enough to speak after three days. He asked her to tell him riddles, and if she was as jealous of her domain as she pretended, she’d have said no. But good riddles were the tool she used to rid herself of unwanted guests, and this guest was… wanted.

So she read riddles to him for days at a time. Read all the ones she’d hoarded from scholars. Read ones she wrote herself, just for fun. She started with her best riddles because she loved his praise, but moved on to her earlier ones because what they lacked in cleverness, they made up for by being earnest.

He loved those riddles the most.

One week stretched into two. He spent his days swimming after fish, chasing after boars with spears made of stone (she hadn’t seen that in a very long time) and scurrying up the trees to pick dates. And his nights, he spent imagining riddles around a campfire.

She knew it wasn’t going to be permanent, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be beautiful. She’d outlived so many things in this world - seen rivers change courses and lakes run dry. If impermanence was a poison, then it was a poison she couldn’t avoid. There was no wall she could build to keep death at bay. She could only share her home with it and hope that one, one wonderful, far away day, that even death would die.

But that day would not be soon.

The king’s men found the oasis after a month of searching. There were no riddles this time. The prince left willingly, and the men with bronze blades stayed respectfully far from her part of the duat. It went as good as it could have gone, all things considered. If some part of her felt empty afterwards, well, maybe she just needed to eat.

Regular gifts did find her way to the duat, as thanks after that. Herds of goats were released near her borders, to hunt at her own leisure. Soft pelts from the northern lands were delivered in chests, and she luxuriated in their fluff.

Most importantly, a regular shipment of blank vellum began to make its way to the duat. She was told was explicitly that it was for her to write more riddles. And also, if she had a spare moment, she could send letters back with the vendor. The prince always made sure to send at least one out to her, and she always made sure to send one back.

Always.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁗 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑𓁗

It had been decades.

She just-

She couldn’t see how humans were like this. She’d written with him six months ago! He’d been sharp as ever. Sharper, even. Time had winnowed him into a razor’s edge, and she'd been so amazed to see him change. And then he’d gotten busy, and they’d stopped writing letters for just a month, and then it was two months, and then three and now-

Now he wasn’t well.

The last letter she’d received hadn’t even been from him. It had been from his eldest brother, the reigning pharaoh. And it had broken her heart.

He was forgetting… everything. His mind was breaking. Decades of brilliance, and now he was falling apart at the seams. Some days, he didn’t even know who he was. But on the days that he did, the only thing he could talk about was going to the oasis one last time.

And his brother who had kept him close, who had been so protective of him after his near death with the bandits, had finally agreed.

He was going to be arriving any day now. The note had a sort of helpless plea attached - that he didn’t know what to do at this point, but that whatever it cost her to keep him comfortable, he would repay tenfold.

She sent a letter back saying it was a gift. She was the queen of the duat, and it pleased her to give this to her neighboring kingdom. Nevermind that her kingdom had no subjects, nevermind that she had no armies at her disposal. What she had, she could give, and this was… easy.

It made her happy to write the letter. It remind her of the first words the prince had spoken to her, all those years ago.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁗

He arrived a few days later, escorted by fifty soldiers. She was grateful that he was in one of his lucid moments. She couldn’t imagine how it would be, to be seen and not known.

She didn’t wait for them to make it all the way to her oasis. She flew over to meet them, and then carried him back. The traditional wait was from when she thought she had time. Before she'd realized that there were ways for even an immortal to find themselves in a hurry.

He spent his first day back chasing fish, the same way he did before. The boars he left be - seventy, he insisted, was far too old to be messing with boars. And when the evening came, they gathered by a campfire to share riddles.

They went back and forth, laughing at each other's crafts. It was only after an hour of reminiscing that she actually asked him her favorite riddle, the riddle that she had permanently written in as His riddle. The one with toothless maws and meat and light in the dark, and he stared at her - not blankly, but worse, confused, because he recognized the riddle, but could no longer answer it.

She could see the distress growing in him, and it broke her heart. He hemmed and hawed, but right when he looked on the brink of giving up, he looked at the fire and started in relief.

“A campfire!” he said, and they laughed, and if he could pretend his tears were mirth and not mourning she could pretend that hers were the same.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒

He was not well the next day.

He knew who he was, thankfully, but he didn’t remember getting there. He stumbled around almost dazed until he saw her. Then he sighed in relief.

“This is my favorite dream,” he confided in her. “I’d like to get back here for real one day - but this dream is lovely. Can you read me some more riddles? Just like last time. I've never forgotten.”

She didn’t even touch her later works. She went to her earliest ones, the easy ones, and the way he pondered minutes at a time made her stomach clench.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒

She did not sleep that night.

She had spent literally her entire life trying to make harder and harder riddles, and now-

They needed to be easy. They needed to be simple. They needed to rhyme, and feel like riddles, but they needed to be solvable by someone that -

She had to stop writing for a few moments to compose herself. She couldn’t afford to cry on the vellum. A new shipment wouldn’t arrive in time.

She was immortal, but she was still running out of time.

𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒

He woke up the next morning completely confused. She’d prepared her first riddle as

“Who sits in the sand

Beside my lair

Who swims through fish

With thin white hair

Who braved the desert and survived

Then returned home alive and thrived?”

But after several seconds of silence she couldn’t take it anymore.

“It’s you,” she said.

“Oh!” he replied, surprised.

“What do you know about this place?”, she asked, after several more long seconds of quiet.

“…Not a lot,” he admitted. “But I know I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said.

That was the only riddle she had for the day. He fell asleep in the midmorning, and she took the time to go catch a goat for them. He was still asleep when she returned and remained that way the rest of the day. She stayed awake long after sunset, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest and praying it would never stop. She wasn’t sure when she fell asleep - she just knew that when she woke up, her prayer had gone unanswered.

𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁒 𓁓 𓁔 𓁕 𓁖 𓁗 𓐭 𓐮 𓁐 𓁑 𓁗

The vellum vendor arrived at the start of the deep duat only to find the oasis empty. He looked for hours, but there was only a single vellum left behind in the cave. He grabbed it and read the half finished riddle.

​ What hungers and is never full?

What is complete but never whole?

What pierces armor, shields, and hearts?

What ends before it even starts?

What force can make a monster thrall

What talon and what dreadful claw

Can heal the slice it makes each day?

What pain can make the godless pray?

It was all he could take back to the pharaoh.

He hoped it was enough.

[skeptiql]

Guard Fidds / Seven - On Death

Back when I was alive, those long gone days, I often wore my heart dangerously on my sleeve. Open to the elements, I suppose, bitter cold tending to sink its sharp teeth into the musculature of my atriums.

It never once swayed me in life, though in death I’ve shut myself down. Bolstered the gates, locked the cage, the sleeve it once sat beating on now hidden by metal plating. My kind demeanour and need to be needed never once deterred by cold fronts is long gone to the wind. One too many clumsy misplacements of trust and honesty really ought to break a man much sooner than his demise, but the straw broke the camel’s back after a hardy distance travelled.

All I ever did was care, perhaps the love was put onto the wrong person or perhaps I was too bold to hide my true identity to a cruel and unforgiving world, but I cared till my dying day. Shown unbelievable things both abysmally ugly and incredibly stunning by a man whose whole being was an anomaly of its own.

And I was just a man. An ordinary man who never stopped for a moment to consider himself nor the consequences of his actions on the wellbeing of his mind and body. I lived and loved for the other person not once considering my life as more than a service to the world. I had my skills, I had my purpose, I had my glory and it killed me in the process.

Physical death is agonisingly slow, but the mental takes double the time. Each millisecond stretching to a millennia as adrenaline pumps into the blood stream both pouring out and clogging up. That gave me enough time to see the misplaced love; the trust and good will I had abandoned my everything for, to see him flee without a second thought.

Foresight tells me that I shouldn’t hate the man for reacting for instinct alone (we may have been human but that doesn’t exclude us from animal impulses). The guilt, however, consistently resides.

I died for my adoration and in turn he died also. The fate of his life laid in my fumbling grasp without any knowledge of that responsibility, the timelines witnessed now telling me what I had passed for. The endless, repetitive and agonising viewing of every life I could have lived being projected for my eyes and optic nerve torture.

For I had lived an honest life. This is the reward. My heart is fickle and masked; this screen torments me so.

[thisautistic]

15 Day BL Challenge (Part Deux)

Day 26: Top 3 Most Stylish Boys?

Vegas Kornwit Theerapanyakul - i mean. duh

from his red velvet shirt

to his astrology shirt

white suit

brown velvet shirt

leisure suit coup outfit

now you may ask me, 'mickey, isn't vegas' wardrobe just another aspect of the mask he wears?' and yes. but it's still amazing leave me alone. besides

he looks just as good in a simple gray t-shirt

or nothing at all

2. Khatha - it's not exactly a bl but for my purposes it is

the absolutely iconic red suit and cane i mean JESUS

the ombre suit

he's a rich man in a thai drama and you expect him to cover his chest? yeah right

obligatory crying khatha gif obviously

full white??? i meaaaaaan (note the on theme butterfly shirt)

the old man black and white shirt that he dies in????

fkn camel colored leather coat immmmmmmm

i mean for christ's sake he even rocks this half-burned oversized jacket for like. a whole episode.

10/10 no notes. well one note. stop dying and getting into life-threatening situations and ruining what im sure are designer pieces...

3. Ming - yeah he's terrible (affectionate) AND his wardrobe fucks

liiiiiike. slaying absolute penis.

im sure i could think of more if i tried but. 3 is what they asked for so 3 is what you get!

[lostintransist]

I've come and gone from your page like four times, contemplating how to do part four with our stupid pretty Johnny "Soap" MacTavish.

The stupid pretty man with the pretty blue eyes that constantly seem to swing between shades of blue as they stare down at the black ink swirling on the operator's cheek bone across from him. Another shit mission and co-op with Shadow Company. AGAIN. They've become far to common and this... /Soldier/ laughed and bullshitted with their friend far to much. Even with the eye black masking those familiar curves. The straw broke on the camels back when the man snapped. Slamming the Operative against a wall, hand over that mouth that talked to damn much for a damn stealth mission. Those burning blue eyes searing (SROP AUTO CORRECTING ME DAMMIT) into the shocked ones, a loud 'bang!' echoing out. Having Johnny freeze stomach in his throat, breath held, staring... Staring... Staring... Before slowly looking down, seeing that smoking gun so dangerously close to his side. Turning back to look at an enemy soldier on the ground. "'m a decoy Sir, don' forget. Supposed to play stupid, doesn' make it so."

SUCH A GOOD IDEA! I wanted to expand on this a bit so anything in italics is taken exactly from @lialucis' delicious ask.

Soulmate AU if you wanted to see more about Johnny's tattoo before reading this.

Not proofread. The sun has been gone to long for my eyes to stay focused long enough to fix any errors I might have made.

The stupid pretty man with the pretty blue eyes that constantly seem to swing between shades of blue as they stare down at the black ink swirling on the [your] cheek bone [as you sit] across from him [at the long eating table].

The letters never made any sense to you. Though you once had a language professor chase you down to ask if you knew your tattoo was in Gaelic. You hadn't known but thanked him for the information. You had a tattoo artist you trust add vining leaves and small thistle flowers. Hiding it wasn't the goal, but you wanted to control who got to know. Almost everyone else had their marks in a hidable spot, able to mess around and not cause hurt feelings until it could be confirmed the marks don't match.

Not you though. Never had a first kiss because someone's claim to you superseded your autonomy. God sometimes you wish you could find the bastard and knock their block off. You had been close, once, to a first kiss. You had been sixteen and your mother found you sneaking off the back porch to meet up with a classmate who claimed to have your name inked across their inner right knee.

She broke down, disbelief and heartbreak crossing her face so fast tat even at sixteen and knowing everything you paused.

"The name on your birth certificate? The one we call you by? That isn't your first name. It's a tradition in a lot of places to give a secret first name so you can learn and grow into adulthood without having to worry about falling in love. I was going to tell you when you turned eighteen."

Despite all the justifications it had sliced at your bond with the claws of lies. You had gone to college out of state the same week you graduated and joined the military soon after bailing on your first semester. You had managed to flunk out of basic and ended up with a paramiltary contract group. You were a shadow because you liked to blow shit sky high and you were good with a weapon.

You were in Los Alamas on a job, functioning under Shadow Company Leader Phillip Graves. The man reminded you of fungus, creeping by so slow into your system that by the time he struck the killing blow you had been dead for weeks. Thankfully you didn't actually work for him. No. Phil lead the Shadows but he didn't create them. You worked directly for the head of the company, and she had given you a specific job.

See she thought that Phil was taking to many liberties in leading her company. Your job was to sniff it out, kill anyone you deemed necessary, and report back. The payout from this single job would set you up for life. You financial planner confirmed it. Now all you had to do was survive.

That brought you back to the man staring at you. His eyes trailed up and down the bits of your soulmate tattoo he could see. It extended up into your hair which had grown long again.

Pulling down your lower lid and sticking your tongue out at him before lifting your tray and disappering among the bodies of the other shadows. You kept running into him, almost as if he were searching you out. It grated at your already frayed nerves.

Another shit mission and co-op with [the 141]. AGAIN. They've become far to common and this... /Soldier/ laughed and bullshitted with their friend far to much. Even with the eye black masking those familiar curves. The straw broke on the camels back when the man snapped.

Phil had made his move, detaining Alejandro's men, and going home by home searching for the two members of the 141 that escaped. You slipped into the darkness behind them, skirting both the men who would kill you and the teammates who would label you a traitor. If you made it out of this they would know who really betrayed them.

[You had the misfortune of choosing the same wall for shelter as one "Soap". Slamming [you] against a wall, hand over that mouth that talked to damn much for a damn stealth mission [he snarled down at you. Again his eyes strayed to your tattoo insted of your eyes.]

"What are you doing here?"

A loud 'bang!' echo[ed] out. [Soap froze], stomach in his throat, breath held, staring... Staring... Staring...[at your eyes finally and not just your face], before slowly looking down, seeing that smoking gun so dangerously close to his side. Turning back to look at an enemy soldier on the ground.

"'m a decoy Sir. [The owner of the Shadows is not pleased with Phillip Graves and I am the nail in his coffin]. Supposed to play stupid, doesn' make it so."

The crackle of a radio between you breaks the moment.

"Johnny, you find any supplies yet?"

"Not yet L.T." he releases you and the button on the radio.

"Let's get your arm patched and get the fuck out of here. I have the city memorized. I had a feeling that something might happen." Peeking around corners you confirm the clear shot to an empty building.

Soap moves with you, on your heels and breath on your neck. Inside the empty builing there is a solid desk. You order Soap to sit there and begin to bandage his bleeding arm with the only roll of gauze you keep in your vest pack. Focused on wrapping and tightening down on the bleeding you miss his hand moving until a finger traces each letter with surity.

"I think this is my name." His whisper is shared to the dark as your eyes snap to his.

"What does yours say?" The quiet question comes out, harsh and haunting.

"That's the oddest thing, it's as if it's two names mashed together. As if their parent wanted to be sure they would know who their soulmate was."

Stumbling back you trip over your own boot. That conversation with your mother drifted back to you across the canyon of time.

"We slapped two family names together for you. We, I, wanted you to be sure when you found him," her heartbroken confession rocking you to the core.

"Holy fuck."

Soap grinned down at you before standing and offering you his uninjured side. Taking his hand he helps you up. You don't protest when his fingers slip between yours.

"How 'bout we go find my L.T. at a church and get the hell out of here bonnie?"

"You know I don't have much else going on tonight. That sounds like a plan."

His laugh is loud, and so much more gratifiing when it happens for you and not only near you.

Masterlist

[astra-ravana]

Liber Paimon

Note: This is a work in progress, but something I've been wanting to do for some time. Hopefully this gives you an idea what I'm going for and serves to preface the book as a whole. Once I am finished I plan to self publish it as an ebook. Any suggestions for this as well as feedback on the two chapters is really appreciated. Happy reading! 🖤

The Dream (Intro)

  I'm having the dream again. I am a child of another time, navigating large, gridded paths between square pools. Fish swim around below me as I run and hop to the end of one path and into an open patio positioned above a waterfall. Looking out, I see gardens with every form of plant life imaginable, but I barely pay them any mind. I approach a young boy sitting on a stone bench. The bench is the same shimmering grey-blue as the walls of this place. Cobalt, I recognize. I sit beside the boy and greet him, proudly presenting a stack of cards I had been given, some sort of divinatory oracle. The boy looks worried as he asks me about some sort of initiation I was to take part in.

   Then the setting changes and I'm being lead down a dark hallway towards a big, red door. My escorts are four masked women in what appears to be ancient Greek styled clothing and faces obscured by ornate masks. There are golden lion statues outside of the door. I know that these lions were a gift for the King and I was about to enter that room and life as I knew it wouldn't be the same ever again. I thought it was what I wanted but as someone positions a mask over my face I am suddenly filled with dread. I was being chosen, it was an honor, I had a gift, and people needed me. I knew all of this. But then I began to resist the hands leading me. Tears streamed down my face.

   Then from behind the red door we hear a building chaos. Yelling and panic, something shatters. One of my escorts opens the red doors and slips quickly between them, I try to see inside and catch a glimpse of fire as well as circles and symbols convering the floor and walls. Then theres a brief silence before I hear someone yell, "He has released them!"  The women leading me begin to fall away. The doors open and people are running past me, screaming, crying. Something big is happening. For a time I'm just frozen there, staring into the room. An old man meets my eyes and something in his gaze awakens me from my shocked state.

   Then I am in the desert sand, the stars above me, a chill setting into my bones, as I run, stumbling, towards the lights of a distant town. I didn't know if anyone was following me, I didn't care. I didn't think of how my shoes and robes would slow me down, or how cold it was. I just ran. Ran until I couldn't anymore, until I collapsed in a sobbing, shivering heap.

   Then he was there. Pulling me onto the back of a camel. Warmth, safety, acceptance, I felt these things. I knew he wasn't a normal man, more like an amalgamation of man and beast and god, a black flame in the pitch of night. "I'm running too, " he spoke, with a whispering melody, "Let's run together." I nod against him feeling power well within me. As we ride on, I feel myself changing, becoming one with his vibration and then it all fades away...

   The dream started when I was about nine years old and sure enough, every few nights, as I slept, I lived it again and again. I saw his face, his long black hair, heard his voice echoing in my mind. But who was this mysterious figure? What were these dreams trying to tell me? I wondered this for a long time. I wouldn't get my answers until the Winter of 2017.

   I had been scrolling some witchcraft centered Facebook groups when I came across a post asking about people's past life dreams and memories. I took the opportunity to tell my story, simply wanting to add something to the discussion. I forgot about it, until people began replying to my comment.

   "This sounds like the cobalt temple of King Solomon." My brain reeled at what I identified as a Bible reference. I was a dedicated atheist and detested the Christian religion. But someone quickly corrected me. This wasn't the wise, old King Solomon skimmed over in the King James Bible. Furthermore, my dream savior on camel back was likely not a man at all, but a demon. A powerful king of Hell, subject only to Lucifer himself, and his name was Paimon. As I clicked through links and articles of varying descriptions and depictions it became clearer. This was who I saw in my dream. But, why was I having these dreams? Could this possibly be real? What would this demon want with me?

   Honestly, I sat with the knowledge for some time, unsure of what to do with it. Then, I began communing with the spirit world as part of my practice. I began using my dreams as a vehicle for spiritual contact. I worked with the Fae, the dead, and became captivated by Djinn and other non-human spirits. Around this time I purchased several books, one of which was The Goetia of Solomon the King. I read Paimon's page over and over, stared at his sigil until my eyes watered. I began extensive research into demons, their origin, and true nature as well as methods for summoning and invoking them. And then one cool Spring night, I was ready.

   I wrote a plea to Paimon to enter my life and bring my answers and folded it a couple times, drawing his sigil on the outside, and then pricking my finger, letting blood dribble over it. I sat nervously on my front porch with a lit orange candle, the night was still, silent, dark. "Linan Tasa Jedan Paimon," I spoke to the air around me, it came out like a hoarse whisper. Undeterred, I held the petition over the flame and held it while it lit up, kissing the tips of my fingers with flame and making me wince. As the last scraps of paper burnt up a strange, familiar feeling cascaded over me.

   I suddenly felt very warm, dizzy, restless, ethereal, connected to something ancient and powerful. The sky let out a deep, atmospheric hum, like the blowing of a horn, the wind picked up and whipped around me, I could eventually hear bells and chiming tones, music rolling through my sleepy town. Then came a voice, rolling through my mind like a slow-moving storm front. "Finally, you are finished running. "

Who is Paimon?

“The Ninth Spirit in this Order is Paimon, a Great King, and very obedient unto LUCIFER. He appeareth in the form of a Man sitting upon a Dromedary with a Crown most glorious upon his head. There goeth before him also an Host of Spirits, like Men with Trumpets and well sounding Cymbals, and all other sorts of Musical Instruments. He hath a great Voice, and roareth at his first coming, and his speech is such that the Magician cannot well understand unless he can compel him. This Spirit can teach all Arts and Sciences, and other secret things. He can discover unto thee what the Earth is, and what holdeth it up in the Waters; and what Mind is, and where it is; or any other thing thou mayest desire to know. He giveth Dignity, and confirmeth the same. He bindeth or maketh any man subject unto the Magician if he so desire it. He giveth good Familiars, and such as can teach all Arts. He is to be observed towards the West. He is of the Order of Dominations [Dominions]. He hath under him 200 Legions of Spirits, and part of them are of the Order of Angels, and the other part of Potentates. Now if thou callest this Spirit Paimon alone, thou must make him some offering; and there will attend him two Kings called LABAL and ABALI , and also other Spirits who be of the Order of Potentates in his Host, and 25 Legions. And those Spirits which be subject unto them are not always with them unless the Magician do compel them. His Character is this which must be worn as a Lamen before thee, etc.”

- Original text from The Goetia

“Paimon is an angel-daimon of Lucifer, whom appears as a man crowned upon a camel. This spirit is a familiar of musick, thus by invoking Paimon one may work through an avenue of self-initiation through creating musick. Paimon is a powerful Angelick King of the Witchcraft, whom has 200 Legions of spirits – half are the Orders of Angels, the others being Potentates. Paimon appears with two Spirit/Djinn – Label and Ablim who are referred to as Kings. Paimon is perhaps one of the most significant Angelick Rulers, which along with Astaroth (whom is more bestial/demonic in nature and appearance) opens the way to the “Grail” of Lucifer’s crown – the perception of “I” and the mind separate from the universe. Paimon is a higher spirit of self-initiation, who is a path maker for ones own becoming. Paimon sometimes appears as an angelick spirit with a flaming sword. His office is Guardian of the Path through Leviathan, the Guardian of the Depths and Subconscious.”

- From The Luciferian Goetia by Michael Ford

“He teaches all arts and sciences and occult.  He can be invoked to bind others.  To be observed toward the west with offerings. Seek Paimon to understand Alchemy. Seek Paimon for creative pursuits or to design a plan of action. Paimon can also help in emotional understanding.”

-From the Demonolatry Goetia by S. Connolly

- The sigil of King Paimon

  The lore and cultural footprint of King Paimon is rather significant, especially compared to other Goetic spirits. First, and perhaps most notably, are his number of legions of followers, which is 200, more than any other listed demon. Far more in fact, as Beleth has the next highest number of legions, which is 85. This is likely the reason why Paimon is named the "Lord of Familiars", amongst other designations. Often described as having long, flowing pblack hair, an effeminate face, wearing robes with a brilliant crown upon his head. He possesses a unique connection with the spiritual realm and its inhabitants in that he can create an open channel of communication and can connect you to spirits who resonate at a similar frequency to you.

   In this aspect he very much carries the mantle of a grand mediator between you and the spirit world, easily finding you the right spirit for your need. Paimon can warn one of, and protect them from, malevolent spirits. He also eases connections with spirits who would be otherwise considered difficult to work with. He clears away the clouds of miscommunication for you to truly connect with spirits on their level, which is a truly priceless resource to a practitioner.

   Paimon is also a spirit of creativity and the arts. He celebrates both creators and the fruits of their labor. He is very in tune with the sounds, vibrations, and frequencies of the Universe and has a deep love for music. He is said to have influenced artist and musician alike, infusing his powerful energy into their creations. When Paimon arrives the world truly comes alive with light, color, and sound.

   Although he is capable of displays of power and physical manifestation, Paimon prefers subtle and considerate forms, talking within the conscious minds of his contacts. He is a spirit of  communication as well and has ways of connecting with almost anyone. Paimon carries an air of diplomacy and universal recognition. Wherever he goes, his voice shall be heard.

   Witchcraft is another area where Paimon's presence is highly fortuitous. Paimon is a higher spirit who has lived many lives, both physical and spiritual, and has been an avid practitioner of both high and low magick. He carries vast knowledge regarding herbalism, spell crafting, symbology, divination, spirit work, dream manipulation, and astral travel. If there is a witchcraft related matter, he most certainly has some knowledge related to it. He guides his adepts to research deeper and apply themselves in their craft. With his tutelage your practice can be significantly amplified.

   Finally, Paimon embodies natural, perfect chaos, the order of disorder, thinking freely, and being authentic and true to your path. While he can cause the ruin of the tower, he more greatly values the process of rebuilding it better than it was. In this same way, he rebuilds the witch, making them stronger and much more true to themselves in the process.

Temperament

   All things considered, Paimon is a rather easy going spirit. He enjoys sweets like cakes, honey, and especially chocolate. He loves animals and has a soft spot for children. He has a deep respect for nature, the stars, and the elements, and understands the intricate connections between these and the spirits that exist around, and within, us. He has a quick wit, brilliant sense of humor, and likes to gossip. Even though he leads 200 legions, he believes in equality amongst all spirits and always hears what others have to say. He's a fantastic listener as well as a smooth talker. As an individual he is charming and fascinating, comforting and strong, scientific and artistic, light-hearted but serious when the situation calls for it. Everything you might want in a friend. Especially a spirit friend who can help guide you through the unknown with enthusiasm.

   On the reverse side of things, Paimon is capable of being a very intimidating force. If he, or his adepts are wronged he can become fixated on vengeance. Don't mistreat your access to the spirit world and try to keep your dealings fair. In other words, the spirits want to help and they deserve fair reciprocation and respect. On Paimon's path we don't trap or bind spirits or force them to be subject unto us in any form. That means no Solomonic or Abrahamic magick. While studying these is encouraged, practice should be very limited. Instead we will focus on invocation, sigil work, and forming creative beacons for spirit to flow through.

   Paimon can also call vast amounts of spirits to his aid, making him an even more imposing emissary of the Qliphothic plain. Powerful spirits like Azazel, Asmodeus, Lucifer, and Leviathan have such a deep respect for this camel-riding King that he is considered by some to be an honorary Dark Lord of Hell. He knows secrets that no one else knows, has answers to questions no one has thought to ever ask, and has alliances in all corners of all plains of existence... And provided you're in his good graces, you would never suspect this. To Paimon, titles and hierchies are useless constructs, degrading the value and contributions of the individual. This humble spirit remains a wandering soul who values communication between beings, serendipity, the mind, and the soul's journey above all else.

Correspondences

Enn: "Linan Tasa Jedan Paimon"

Rank: King

Other names (titles): King of Music, Lord of Familiars, Master of Infernal Ceremonies, the Pale King, Guardian of the Path to Leviathan

Colors: Yellow, orange, black, purple, dark blue indigo

Herbs: Bindweed, saffron, sunflower, violets, yarrow, mullien, rose, frankincense, myyrh, wood betony, dandelion, sandalwood, patchouli, turmeric, thyme

Crystals: Gold aura hematite, labradorite, moldavite, rutilated quartz, pietersite, lapis lazuli, citrine, larvakite, ruby kyanite, bumblebee jasper, fluorite, marcosite, tourmaline

Element: Air/Water

Planet: Sun/Mercury

Zodiac: Gemini

Metal: Gold, meteorite

Tarot: The Magician, The Hermit, 6 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords

Direction: West

Dates: June 11th - 20th, April 30th - May 1st

Day: Sunday

Animal: Dramaderie camel

Domains: All arts and sciences, familiars, spirit work of any kind, music, alchemy, emotions, mental pursuits/finding knowledge, truth, the unknown, the occult, mysteries of life, manifestation, communication, enlightenment, mental, spiritual, and emotional growth, dream work, divination, astrology, baneful magick, herbalism, nature, sigil work, psychic abilities, scrying, shadow work, balance

Offerings: Sweets like cake, cookies and chocolate, honey, coffee, tea, soda, wine, canabis, tobacco, herbs, incense, music, works of art, conversation (tell him your secrets)

[soraviie]

he's not your bias.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader  ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff ━  pictures taken from Pinterest

━ a/n: requested and thank you for it! Please, like, reblog and leave a comment, you know the drill :]

NAMJOON: "It's Yoongi, isn't it?"

"Please, shut up."

"You shut up!...traitor."

Sighing, you adjusted your spine from where it was comfortably settled in the mattress and turn to the other side where Namjoon was grumbling, fingers tightly gripping the duvet and stare transfixed on a meaningless spot in the ceiling. His jaw was slowly working up into a full blown clench.

Cautiously, you reach to tug his hand into yours, rubbing slow circles on the back of his palm. Thankfully, he allows this and in due time the tension leaves his tightened body.

"Why do you think it's Yoongi?" you wonder aloud once more. When you accidentally let it slip that he wasn't the first one who caught your attention, he said he didn't care, tossing that remark over his shoulder but you should have known better.

"I don't know," he trails off, shrugging. "He's cool, quiet, determined, caring. A perfect guy, really."

"So are you."

You smile into the duskened air of the dim bedroom, hoping this will be the straw the breaks the back of his worried camel but then he turns up his nose, offended.

"Not enough to be your bias."

Your head slams against the pillow - exhausted.

"I'm with you not him. I admit there are a lot of admirable qualities he has but it's just that. To me he's an idol, but you're Kim Namjoon."

Tepidly, he takes the bait and glances at you from the corner of the eye, imperceptibly scooching closer, sheets rustling in the quiet.

"And is he so great? This Kim Namjoon?"

"The greatest," you press a soft kiss against his cheek. "Now be a good boy and go to sleep."

You place his hand firmly over your waist, relaxing once more and you hear him do the same thing as well. He did not need to know who you actually biased - that certain bandmate would get his ego stroked far too much than even a fan such as yourself could allow.

YOONGI: "I'm completely fine about meeting him! Now just pretend we don't know each other and be casual about it."

Yoongi draws a deep inhale, refusing to let your hand go.

"There's only two of us here," he remarks, pointedly glimpsing around his studio. The air was laced with the stench of paint whilst the canvas you both worked on dried away in the dark corner.

"So? I could be a new staff member."

"You're sitting in my lap."

You glance down to where your thighs rested on top of his.

"Perhaps you're a pervert," you state off-handedly. This offends him and rolling his eyes, Yoongi unceremoniously shoves you onto the floor. It was exactly in this moment when you fought to preserve your balance, the door cracks open and to your great mortification Jimin comes in.

The easy smile on his lips drops faster than your gut can and with gaze hastily flickering between you and Yoongi, he steps cautiously forth.

"Oh, hello," he greets, trying to mask the awkwardness streaming out of his very pores. "I don't think I've seen you around...?"

"Yes, I'm just..." you floundered, quickly growing breathless in the presence of someone shaped like a sheer perfection. The pixels truly did not do him justice.

"Your biggest fan," Yoongi concluded dryly from his seat. "So if you could be so kind and sign a scarf or something, I'd be grateful. This one is slobbering up all my studio."

You could only turn around with mouth wide open despite no sound falling out of it. Innocently, Yoongi meets your gaze, daring to be so aggravating and proceeding to flutter his unfairly pretty eyelashes.

"Oh," Jimin laughs brightly in the background. "I don't mind signing something..."

Whilst the blood in your head boils to the degree, a straying fear arises of it simply pOpPing off your head, Jimin so graciously loops his signature on the back of a ripped note containing your and Yoongi's grocery list. Once he finishes, he lifts his head, gives an absolutely paralyzing smile and...

...winks.

WINKS!

"Ehhhhheheheheh, thankyou."

You think that somewhere in the back of Yoongi's throat there rises a sentence of "that's just embarrassing" but as you whip around, murder in the eyes, he chooses to ultimately stay diplomatically silent.

"I just remembered, there's a thing I need to do," Jimin excuses himself, bowing politely and you try to do the same but it comes out as a bit too deep. More like you're ready to accidentally worship him. As he leaves, lingering for a second too long in the doorway, his gaze jumps curiously between you and Yoongi.

"Interesting," is all he says to himself before leaving altogether.

Deep silence veils the room, interrupted only by the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

"We're breaking up," numbly, you announce.

"No, we're not," smugly, Yoongi remarks over the shoulder.

JIN: "Well, I can't say I'm surprised," Jin speaks over the rim of his steaming cup, overtly self-satisfied. "With a face such as this and my perfect personality to boot, you really stood no chance."

Personally, you have had a very, very long day. The kind of which leaves your brain leaking from the side of the ear and the soul from the bottom of the waterline, so hearing that coming out of his mouth, accompanied with a smug expression that just begged to be humbled, you slammed him down with no hesitation.

"I was talking about Jungkook. Jungkook is my bias."

The cup in between the saucer and his lips freezes halfway and you can even vaguely hear an error noise drawn from the depths of his perplexing mind.

"The sexy brunette, hitting all the notes with a grace of an angel..." he clarifies, closing his eyes. Does he think - see no evil, hear no evil?

"Is Jeon Jungkook. 190811 concert to be specifically."

The error noise grows louder.

"He was very sexy in that one. Absolutely mesmerizing. My core memory actually."

Calmly, Jin places the cup back onto the saucer, daintily pushing back a strand of unkempt hair.

"I see," he concludes and after a prolonged moment of stretching inaction during which you almost grow to believe he has entirely turned into a statue, Jin states with nothing short of cornucopia of attitude.

"Well, I raised him so by any good business model, 25% of affection belongs to me anyhow."

"Oh, only 25%?" you grumble. "How gracious of you."

"You're right," he leans his head to the side as though genuinely thinking it over. "Inflation. Make it 45%."

And to your surprise no fuss was made. He went to sleep and kicked you twice in his sleep - as per the standard rate. A year went by and the fact was never brought up, be it in passing or even when conversation was on the topic, he merely sat smiling politely in the sidelines. You assumed that the piece of this knowledge was so traumatic, he suppressed the memory of it altogether.

"Hey, Jin," you called out, rifling through the bedsheets. "Have you seen my phone?"

Over the sounds of his infuriated screams about losing yet another game, there comes a hasty "no, sorry".

"Okay, can I use your phone to call myself?"

"Su-AH YOU GODDAMN TOE BRAINED ASSHOLE-re, honey!"

The password on his phone - your birth year, not exactly hacker worthy. You hover over the contacts list not finding in the appropriate section. Babe? Nothing. Honey? Nothing. Annoyance? Not even that. You trail purposelessly throughout the small splattering of contacts - an outcome of being forced to change numbers every - accidentally stumbling on a particularly suspicious name.

"Traitor 💔"

"Drama queen," you mutter fondly, deciding to let him and the name be.

HOSEOK: "He's a sweetheart," Hoseok whispers in the vicinity of his elbow where you were using him as an impenetrable shield. "He's literally going to be happy to learn you biased him."

"Look at his face! He thinks I'm annoying!"

"That's just how his face looks, silly. As Tae-biased you must know that."

"But he's scary," you whimper. "I adore him as a bias but I also want to run away. I do not want to be perceived."

You shrink smaller the second those soulful, weary eyes glide over to where Hoseok was so suspiciously angled. You squeak and hide even further behind Hoseok's back, praying Taehyung doesn't come over.

"Get me out of here, please," you mutter and with a quick wave, Hoseok leads you out of the building. There, in the chilly air of the oncoming night, the awkwardness and, truthfully, no small amount of panic evaporates into the black sky. For a while, both of you are simply content in holding hands and watching them swing back and forth.

"Ugh, I'm so lame," you whine.

"No, you're not. It's natural to be shy around people you idolize," he scolds you gently. "You don't think I'm soaring on the ninth wave of confidence when meeting my stars?"

"Well, you're cool yourself so there's no reason why you shouldn't," you scoff.

"And you're cool as well."

There's that tone again - it's useless to argue. Hoseok was not here to entertain your insecurities, he made sure of that from the very start. You smile to yourself, gazing out across the slowly running river. Walks like these were precious. Treasured even as they were so rare.

"You're not upset by it, right?" you clarify cautiously. Partially knowing that of course such a minuscule thing as this would not upset him but...it just didn't hurt to make sure.

"No," he chuckled airily, before awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "Actually I'm kind of glad about it."

"Glad?"

"Well, it'd be difficult to date you if you kept running away from embarrassment."

You chuckled, facing the ground as the streets and the river slowly molded themselves into a nondescript background.

JIMIN: "So...Namjoon told me you hung out?"

Easy. Casual. Even somewhat in passing. But you know him better than that and the second your sixth sense catches onto the lingering shadow in the background of his chords, you lift your head from the magazine and stray to where he was leaning against the countertop.

"I don't like him like that. Please, do not misunderstand."

"I'm just asking," Jimin defends, more so out of instinct. The very best and simultaneously the worst thing about the relationship you'd both cradled like a gentle flame is that by now you could read each other's mind. Despite not being there with him in person you know of the pang in his heart he'd felt when seeing a picture of you trailing next to Namjoon as you both were immersed in a conversation about art, one that'd surely make him bored quite easily. And despite Jimin not literally finding himself dug deep into your brain, he knows you worry, he knows you suspect, knows you're working overtime into scheming all possible future scenarios.

"Stop overthinking," he chides but there's no malice behind it and simply just as that the tension stretches and unwinds until there's only the soft ambient noise of life swirling all around.

"Does he know? You go rabid over him?"

Fully offended, you point the spoonful of yoghurt in his direction, a fat glob of peach splattering clumsily onto the tiles.

"I do not! Go rabid over him!"

Before you get the chance to reach for the paper towel, Jimin has already snatched a ply, wiped up the peach yoghurt and discarded it into the trash.

"Thank you. But I do not go rabid over him!"

Jimin pointedly stares at the your keychain where not one, not two but three Koya's hung limply around the metal circles.

"Of course, absolutely sane."

"Do not patronize me, Park," you glare at him but once geared to amuse himself in your miffed state, he shows no sign of stopping.

"You are so chill about it. Not like you spent hours creating TikTok edits of his dimples."

"You swore to take that to the grave," you growled underneath the nose, your clenched fist indicating you were extremely close to choking him. Which Jimin didn't exactly mind. In fact, such was his goal.

"Oh, make me take it there," he winked.

TAEHYUNG: "I'm not going to share Hobi with you."

"I'm your partner!"

"And? You're not getting Hoseok privileges."

You pouted the rest of the day away, grumbling about the unfairness of the whole situation. But secretly you felt your heart draw a heavy sigh of relief. It'd been so hard to get together with Taehyung that unwillingly it felt that even the smallest of things got inflated to magnitude you feared could drown you whole. But it was fine. If anything he seemed overjoyed in hearing that it was Hoseok who'd caught your attention first and kept a rather brutal chokehold over the course of these few years. Yes, it was fine. However, should Taehyung ever reveal you had drooled on yourself while watching "MORE", you would kill him and then yourself. A promise you'd made loud and clear to which he swore to obey.

And it wasn't like meeting Hoseok was something so necessary for you to live, feeling rather content watching him from the sidelines. In between life, Yeontan, Taehyung and all the secrecy that one had to accept came with him, your life was...full. So when one of these factors suddenly became absent, you grew suspicious.

Why did he sneak away before you woke up and came home when you were asleep? He couldn't be mad at you, could he? You think back, absent-mindedly tapping at the phone screen. "Daydream" blasts into your ears all too loudly and flinching you yank them away much to Tannie's disappointment. As of late, he appeared to be even more judgmental. You reckon the little rascal never grew to be quite okay with you taking so much of his dad's attention. But to be fair his dad's attention was on whatever third party that kept him away the entire day.

The slowly running anxiety prodded your eyes wide open so it's not like you planned to stay awake for when unmistakably Taehyung shut the front doors cautiously behind him. No, there was nothing for him to be angry about. He hadn't been home often enough for it to happen. As such, guided by latent curiosity, you pretended to be wholly asleep, cracking the barest sliver of one eye open to observe him through the dark.

Stumbling ungainly through the minefield that was your bedroom, it was no surprise he stubbed a toe against the dresser and choking on a series of half-withheld curses, collapsed onto the duvet.

"Good evening," you greet him smoothly. "Fun night?"

He yelps from the shock whilst you turn on the lights. Though you find him not with guilt gleaming in the eye or lipstick on the collar but rather brandishing two dozen of balloons and a photo album.

A photo album of carefully and might you say, artistically gathered collection of photocards, signed at the end by Hoseok himself.

JUNGKOOK: His eyes never left your figure, analyzing each and every interaction with a hawk-like precision.

Jimin? No, you were far too unperturbed talking to him. Jin? No, he'd been in your home far too many times drunk of his ass. Frankly, after he'd slathered your favourite plushie in the contents of his stomach, Jungkook doubted you could hold any sense of idealization towards the man, regardless if he was your initial bias or not.

Jungkook hummed to himself. Decisions, decisions. All of them wrong. His investigation was fruitless for so long Jungkook had all but abandoned it, resigning himself to sitting quietly by the stewing pot when at last something in you changes. Yoongi casually recommends a dish as he'd taken notice of your befuddled stare upon the cornucopia of the dinner table and you lover your gaze, bidding a very quiet, meek "thank you". As a year old boyfriend of yours, Jungkook could definitively say - you were not meek.

Ah, so it was Yoongi.

Why did he want to know so bad? He himself did not even know. Perhaps because you hid it away and the spitefulness of your action flared his own competitive nature. Or perhaps it was nothing at all.

Laying down in the sparse room of the lakeside guest house, he listened to you shower, weighing should he bring the matter . You loved him, not Yoongi. After all you were his partner, but...

No "but's", he scolds himself, turning to lay on the other side. You pad softly to the bed and with a drawn out sigh of utter content jump down next to him.

"Why do you keep sleeping with your hair wet?" Jungkokk nags, twirling a strand between the fingers. "It's bad for you health."

"I sleep better that way."

He gives a non-committal hum, knowing so much already. He briefly opens his mouth as though the words were already there - in the papillae of his tongue but then he closes it shut once more, leaving things unspoken

It doesn't much matter, he reckons happily, while you were still by his side, he would not doubt a thing.

© soraviii/soraviie, 2023

[teddyeyeseddie]

Devil Horns & Mary Jane

Virgin!Eddie X Reader

(a/n hiiiii long time no see! Its been awhile but i am so glad to be back and bee bopping around brain rot city with @lofaewrites ! boy have i been cooking up some stuff in the kitchen for you guys! here’s my attempt at willing summer away, i mean it's practically halloween, right?)

“For the last time I am not driving you to some haunted woods all the way in bum-fuck Indiana,” Eddie shouts, settling in on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. 

“Eddie, please,” Dustin begs, plopping down beside him, grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulder and shaking it. 

“Yeah, please Eddie. You promised you would take us to a haunted house this year!” Mike chimes in, pleading eyes looking down at Eddie. 

“I promised I would take you but I’m not taking you tonight, I have plans,” he motions to the TV in front of him, some horror film playing at a low volume. 

“Now shoo-'' Dustin's hand comes to shush Eddie, pointer finger smushed to Eddie’s pink lips. 

“I’ll tell them about what's under--'' It's Eddie’s turn to shush Dustin, his whole hand quick to cover Dustin’s mouth.

“Enough of that. Alright kids, load up,” Dusting snickers as he follows Eddie and his friends out of the trailer. 

The kids all pile in his van, Dustin settling in the front seat. Eddie’s hand smacks his as he attempts to change the radio, turning it back to his usual rock station.

The drive takes them out of town to a more rural area, the haunted woods and corn maze stretching for several acres. Eddie parks the Van, boots crunching in gravel as he steps out of the vehicle. He stuffs his hands in his jacket pocket, withdrawing a pack of camels. He lights one, taking several drags before stopping under a tree. 

“I’ll be waiting here for you guys,” he sends the group a salute as he leans up against the trunk. 

“Nope, you’re coming,” Max states bluntly, walking towards him and plucking the cigarette from his pursed lips before stomping on it. 

“Oof, alright,” Eddie raises his eyebrows before begrudgingly following the group toward the entrance of the haunted woods. 

“Beware!!” A badly dressed clown screams on Eddie’s right, causing Dustin to jump. 

“Oh this is going to be so epic,” Dustin says as he bumps into Eddie. He shrugs him off and straightens out his shoulders. 

The group pushes its way through a badly shredded sheet that is covered in fake blood, Eddie chuckles nervously to himself before entering through the “Gates of Hell”.

They walk for a bit through the woods, witches and zombies popping out periodically to try and get a rise out of the group. Eddie usually sees it coming, but still jumping at the inevitable scare. 

They make it to a small cabin in the middle of the woods, glass windows broken, Cobwebs stretching across the porch, the whole nine yards. Eddie ducks into the small doorway, being the first of his group to make the journey inside. He feels it out once he is in, the strobing lights making his head spin as he tries to make his way forward. 

Dustin follows in shortly after, putting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, causing Eddie to jump. He shakes his head, hair tossing back in Dustin’s face. The group trudges forward, making it halfway through the house with no scares. Eddie is pretty sure the house is vacant of haunt employees. He begins to relax, shrugging Dustin’s hands off his shoulders as he makes his way through the house. 

He makes it to the bathroom where a bathtub sits. He begins to notice bubbles forming in the tub, getting closer to investigate despite his judgment. When he is standing over the tub, something jumps out, right in Eddie’s face. Eddie is quick to squeal, hands taking position before punching in front of him at the mass that just emerged from the bathtub. 

“Fuck-ow ow ow,” he pulls his hand back, shaking it out before realizing what just happened. 

He punched someone. 

He punched an employee. 

He rushes back to the tub, his hands coming to pull the workers mask off to reveal a doe eyed girl with the bloodiest of noses. 

“Shit shit shit. I am so sorry,” He grabs the bandana that is stuck in his back pocket and presses it to your nose. 

You let yourself be held up by Eddie as he walks you through the rest of the house, your mind is so fuzzy you’re not really sure what is going on.

He shakes your shoulder once you make it outside, looking down at you, his face illuminated by the residual strobing lights bleeding through the panes of the broken windows. 

He’s pretty, bangs disheveled and sticking to his forehead, leather jacket broadening his shoulders, pink tongue poking out from between his plump lips.

“Hey, Hey c'mon l-look at me,” he says from above you, your eyes finally focused on his, a grimace forming on your face as you come to.

“Did you punch me?” you question, hand finally coming to rub under your nose, blood painting your fingers. His hand comes to rub at the back of his neck, a shy smile forming on his face as he does so. 

“Yes?” he almost questions, “But, I am so so sorry, I did not expect someone to pop out of there. I’ve never even been to a haunted house before, I just say I like them so my friends don’t think I’m lame. I’m actually really terrified of them? I’ve never even punched someone before, not even when I got beat up in midd-”

“Eddie! For god’s sake let Y/N breathe,” Dustin groans, “Hi, Y/N. Are you okay?” He questions, coming to kneel beside you. 

“Yeah Dusty, I’m ok,” you say, smiling at him. 

“Y/N? Dusty?” Eddie asks, confused. 

“Y/N is my neighbor, it’s how I heard about the haunted woods in the first place,” Dustin reveals, holding his hand out to you in order to help you off the porch steps.

Eddie reaches his arm out, offering it to you. You take it, looping your arm in his as you walk down the hill and towards the exit of the haunted woods.

The two of you make small talk as you walk down, Eddie even lighting a cigarette and offering it to you. You decide fuck it after the night you’ve had and take several drags before giving it back to Eddie. 

“I really am so sorry I punched you,” Eddie says as he looks down at you, “I-I dont like hit women or anything like that, I didn’t even know you were a woman. Just like a mass of moss or something gross like th-” 

“EDDIE!”  you shout playfully, “Stop with the nervous rambling, it's fine! My nose isn’t broken and you got me out of work for the night,” 

“Seriously? No “I’m gonna press charges”? You do know who I am right? Half the town wants to see me in jail,”  he states bluntly.

“You’re a dork,” you say with a shrug, “I don’t think you’d survive in jail so I decided to spare you,” 

“Okay, ouch. I am not a dork,” Eddie defends, eyes trained forward as he walks with you.

“What do you do in your free time?”

“Play D&D, read, write music, watch horror films,” he states obviously.

“See, dork,” you bump your hip with his, smiling as you do so. Eddie meets your smile with a frown, his eyebrow furrowing as he looks at you. 

“Hey, c'mon you punched me in the face. I can say you’re a dork. Plus, I never said being a dork was a bad thing,” you reveal, arm unlocking from his as you approach a trailer that served as your bosses office. He was understanding as to what happened but had to understandingly ban Eddie from the haunted woods for the foreseeable future.

Eddie shrugs his shoulders at the news, stepping out of the trailer with you.

“It’s better than spending a night in jail,” Eddie says, digging in his pocket for his keys. 

“C’mon kids, load up,” Eddie shouts before turning back towards you. 

“Do you need a ride?” Eddie questions as he shoves his thumb towards his van.

You shake your head, pulling his bandana away from your nose. 

“Nah I got it, I’ll see you around?” you ask, “Gotta clean this up and give it to you somehow,”

“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” Eddie responds. He gives you a small wave before retreating to his van. 

Eddie slides into the driver’s seat of the van, starting it up and peeling out of the gravel lot. 

“Dude- I can’t believe you punched her,” Dustin yells over the music. 

“Shut up, Dusty,” Eddie sneers. 

“And your hopeless attempt at flirting with her, oh my god you were so bad dude!” Dustin laughs at Eddie, his heart breaking a little bit at his words. 

Dustin was right. Eddie was hopeless when it came to women. His attempt at flirting tonight simply bleeding into embarrassing stories about himself. He was sure he blew it, no he was certain he had blown it. You can’t punch a pretty girl in the face and expect anything to go anywhere after that. 

Eddie goes home that night, kicking himself mentally for how the evening went.  He wishes he could be normal. He wishes his brain wouldn’t short circuit when a woman checked him out at the grocery store. He wishes he could be confident in himself. He wishes he wasn’t so fucking weird. 

That’s what Eddie Munson is, he decides. A weird, dorky, nerd. He’s going to die a virgin, he’s sure of it. 

He wakes the next morning with his hand throbbing. He groans when he thinks about how you feel if his hand feels the way it does. He rolls out of bed, opening and closing his hand, wincing at each contract of his skin. 

He ends up running late to work, van speeding down the road as he nears the vinyl shop. He pulls in right at 10, practically jumping out of his van and speed walking towards the entrance. He unlocks the door, pushing inside and turning on the lights. 

He’s busy putting on a record to play in the shop when the bell above the door begins to ring. He turns when he hears it, smiling when he sees who he’s met with. 

It's you. You’re wearing a pink skirt, a cream sweater thrown over it, not how Eddie would have ever imagined you to dress. 

“Y-Y/N?” Eddie stutters, record needle scratching loudly as he drops it. 

“Hi, Eddie,” you walk towards the counter, in the light of the storefront he sees that your right eye has turned a bright purple.

“Shit- I’m so sorry,” Eddie rasps, wincing as you tilt your face up to reveal the bruise on your cheek.

“Had to make you feel a little more sorry for me,” you say with a small chuckle. Eddie flashes you pleading eyes, silently begging you to stop messing with him. 

“Hey, it’s okay! I actually just came to bring this back,” you dig into your baby pink purse, pulling out Eddie’s now clean bandana.

“I uh, asked Dustin where I could find you,”

Eddie smiles and takes the bandana from your hand, tucking it into his back pocket. 

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” He sends you a salute as you back away from the counter.

“See ya around Eddie,”

The next time you show up to his work, Eddie is high. He’d taken a few dabs in his car on his lunch break. The weed really takes over when you walk in. Pretty blue skirt flowing behind you, an oversized white sweater brushing the hem of your skirt causes his heart to do tiny little flips.

“Hey Eddie,” you squeak as you approach him. The bruise around your eye is almost completely healed and the swelling in your nose has gone down tremendously. You look better and Eddie is so happy to see that. 

“Hey trouble,” he rasps, a dopey smile on his face. He walks to where you’re standing, stopping once he reaches you, leaning over the counter. He smacks his gum, elbows resting on the glass as he looks down at you. 

“Trouble?” you quirk an eyebrow, hand on your hip as you scowl at him playfully. 

“It fits, sue me. What brings you in?” Eddie questions, rounding the counter and settling next to you. He leans against the counter, crossing his arms and legs as he looks over the expanse of the store. 

“Need a birthday present for a coworker. He’s throwing a halloween party for his birthday. He’s into stuff like you. Ya know, dorky stuff, metal, the whole lot,”

“Ah, I got just the thing. Iron Maiden released a new album this past month, just got the vinyls and 8 tracks in,” 

He makes his way to the ‘new arrivals’ section of the store, fingers skimming through records effortlessly. 

“Aha, here it is!” he shouts, handing it to you with a bow. He feels more confident like this, high and able to flirt and exist around you. 

“Milady…” he ushers you back to the counter, ringing you up. He bags your purchase, carefully handing it over the counter. 

“Have a good one, trouble,” he says with a smirk on his lips. You wave a small goodbye but stop before you’re able to make it out the door. You turn on your heels marching right up to Eddie Munson. 

“Will you be my date to this thing?” You’re standing right infront of him, so close you can smell weed, cigarettes and his cologne. 

“A Halloween party?” Eddie questions, head ticking to the side as he ponders the idea. 

“Sure thing, I’ll pick you up?” you nod and pluck a pencil out of the jar by the register, writing down your address on a scrap piece of your receipt. You hand it to Eddie, smiling widely as he takes it. 

“7:00?”

“7:00, sweetheart,” 

Eddie’s heart is pounding. He’s sure he’s on the verge of either keeling over or running for the hills. His high has worn off and he’s 99% sure any and all ability to be normal has left the building. His hands are shaking as he clips in his little red devil horns. He backs up from the mirror and looks at himself. Red sweater, black jeans and black boots was tonight’s ensemble. He adjusts the little horns in his hair, fluffing his bangs before walking out to the living room, hands still shaking as he collects his keys. 

“I’ll be late Wayne,” He shouts to his Uncle in the Kitchen. With that, he makes his way out to his van, hopping in and lighting a cigarette to help calm his nerves. 

He makes his way to your house, the ride and nicotine somewhat soothing his nerves. You see his van at the curb and bid your mom goodbye, stepping out into the cold October air. Eddie feels all the air leave his chest as he looks at you as you come down your porch stairs. You’re in that same oversized white sweater except this time it's over a white tennis skirt. Your hair is down in braids, a little halo atop your head. Eddie is pretty sure he dreamed you up, there is no way you are real he thinks to himself. 

You practically skip to Eddie’s van, Eddie getting out quickly in order to open the door for you. You slide into the passenger seat, Eddie climbing into the van shortly after. 

“An angel huh?” he asks nervously, causing you to blush. 

“Every devil needs his angel,” you shrug. It’s Eddie’s turn to blush, his red cheeks matching the horns tucked in his mess of curls. 

You make conversation as you drive. Albeit awkward conversation, but conversation nonetheless. Your friends warned you about this, how awkward it would be but honestly, you liked it. You liked how you could get under Eddie Munson’s skin. And in return, Eddie makes your heart flutter. No matter how many times your friends told you he was awkward or a nerd, you couldn’t stop thinking of the brown eyed blubbering idiot. 

You pull up to where the party is, a house on the outskirts of town. You spot a bonfire in the back surrounded by people, signaling that you’re at the right place. Eddie parks his van on the grass before getting out and rounding the car to help you out. 

You both trudge through the grass, making it back to the bonfire, present in hand. Eddie hangs back while you converse with your friends. You down several drinks, drinking too fast and feeling a little woozy. 

You find Eddie several minutes after you down your second drink. He has a red solo cup in hand, other hand in his pocket as he sips the mixture in the cup. 

“Hey Eds,” You say with a smile. 

“Trouble,” 

“You’re being a wallflower,” You giggle, getting up on your tiptoes to adjust one of his horns. 

“I-I just don’t know anyone,” He shrugs his shoulders, taking a sip of his drink. You grab his hand once he’s done, dragging him to the fire and sitting on a log next to him. 

You don’t let go of him, Eddie smiling when your thumb begins to rub circles on the back of his hand. 

You comfort him for a moment before turning to him and beginning conversation. 

“So- you don't talk much do you?” you question as you take a sip of your drink. 

Eddie shakes his head, ducking it down in embarrassment. 

“Hey hey, it’s okay!” you reveal, smiling at him when he snaps his head back up. 

“I can talk enough for the both of us,” you babble, “My name's Y/N but you know that, and I know your name is Eddie,” vodka hits your tongue as you sip on your drink. 

“You’re a dorky metalhead and you drive a rickety old van that smells like weed so I assume you smoke?” you ask as you raise your eyebrows. 

“Deal. I uh- Deal,” Your eyes widen comically at his revelation. 

“You deal drugs?” you whisper-yell, a chuckle rising out of Eddie at your reaction.

“Yeah, mostly bud,” 

“Can we smoke?” 

He simply nods. You get up from your place on the log, hand gripping his as you pull him back towards the van. 

He opens the back for you, the two of you ducking in and settling in the back. He pulls out an old lunch box, digging in it until he can find his rolling papers. You watch him skillfully roll the joint, his hands finally steady. 

He brings the joint to his lips, holding it there as he flicks his lighter. The end of the joint blooms red, smoke flowing from Eddie’s mouth as he exhales. Eddie passes you the spliff, smiling widely at your doe eyed expression. 

You take a long drag, your exhale being cut off by dry coughing and hacking. Your cheeks burn bright red in the commotion. Eddie finds a half-drunk bottle of water and passes it to you. You hand him back the joint and gratefully accept the water, chugging the rest of the bottle. 

The rest of your smoke sesh goes off without a hitch, the two of you giggling at anything and

everything. 

“You talk more when you’re high,” Eddie stops rolling the second joint of the night, looking up at you. 

“It’s hard making new friends. Weed makes me relax and not be so weird.” Eddie licks the rolling paper, focusing on the task at hand.

“You’re not weird..” 

“Says the girl who called me a dork the second she met me,”

“I am pretty sure I have endless passes to call you a dork, you punched me in the face and all,” Eddie sucks in his breath through his teeth, holding his hand up in defense.

“What was a pretty thing like you doing working there anyways?” he takes a drag of the joint, inhaling deeply before blowing all the smoke in your face.

“Eddie? Pretty thing? Are you flirting with me?” you reach towards him, hands meeting as you pass the spliff between you two. 

“I dunno trouble, am I?” he questions, mentally giving himself a pep talk to not screw this up. 

Eddie shifts in his seat, turning to face you.

“Would that bother you? If I was?” Eddie asks sweetly, doe eyes looking down at you. 

You shake your head, your heart races as he shifts closer to you. You’re sure he is going to kiss you, he's so close. Until, he isn't. He pulls away. 

He casts his eyes downward, nerves in his belly rising. 

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” 

“I-I’ve never?” 

“Kissed a girl?” you finish for him, your hand holding his as he nods his head. 

“Well come here then,” You peck his lips a few times, finally deepening the kiss and showing Eddie what to do. He catches on fast, the kiss quickly turning messy and desperate. You're straddling his lap when your hands slide underneath Eddie’s red sweater, a whimper escaping his lips when your cold fingers brush against his middle. 

“Can assume you haven’t done this either?” His eyes are blown wide as he looks up at you, lips pink and plump, cheeks red and splotchy. 

He shakes his head. You cup his jaw in your hand, drawing him in for a kiss before you pull away and whisper in his ear. 

“Just follow my lead,” 

Eddie shudders as your breath hits his neck. His cock is straining so painfully against his zipper and he’s pretty sure if he doesn’t get relief soon, he’ll explode. 

You sit back on your haunches, stripping yourself of your sweater and skirt, leaving you only in your halo. 

If Eddie wasn’t already painfully hard, the sight before him is enough to do so. Your naked body dressed only in a halo while the moonlight bleeds into his van has his mind whirling. He’s certain he’s died and gone to heaven. Because if all angels looked like this, he’d be on his knees every night. 

You giggle at the way he's staring, hands going to snake back under his sweater in order to strip it from his body. You pull it over his head, curls bouncing back to place after the sweater is fully removed, horns staying in place despite the disturbance. 

You start to work on his pants, unbuckling his belt and popping the button of his jeans. You kiss him softly when you dip your hand into his boxers. You giggle when he hisses, kissing his jaw when the hiss turns into a needy moan. You pump him a few times before withdrawing your hand from his boxers. 

“Let’s get out of these, yeah?” Eddie nods feverishly, gangly limbs moving fast to rid himself of his jeans. You draw in a breath when he is finally naked before you. He is so pretty, his cock is so pretty. It’s thick and just the right length, curving slightly to the left, following his hip bone and resting there. 

“Lay on your back,” you instruct, grabbing a random pillow from the floor and shoving it under Eddie’s head. 

“Now, enjoy yourself. Touch me however you want and for the love of god, don’t hold back,”

You throw your leg over his body, straddling his middle. You get on your knees, hovering above Eddie’s cock. You take it in your hand, direct it to your weeping hole, and sink down. You raise yourself slowly before dropping yourself back down, a little “oof” getting punched from Eddie’s lungs. You pick up your pace and deduce him to a moaning, needy mess. 

“F-fuck trouble, I- I’m. I can’t-” Eddie’s hands come to rest on your hips, pushing you down, forcing himself deeper inside of you. You feel him twitching inside of you, cum leaking from you and down his balls. 

Eddie is bright red when you look down at him, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to say something. He’s so caught up in his mind, reminding himself of how weird and pathetic he is he almost doesn't hear you. 

“That. Was so hot,” you reveal, his spent cock now softening inside you. 

Eddie chuckles, pushing you up his body to release his cock, settling you beside him. He draws you in tightly, your legs intertwined, cum leaking from you and staining the blanket beneath you. 

“Have I broken you?” you ask as you trace the tattoos that litter Eddie’s chest. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Eddie groans, lips coming to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

The two of you sit there for a moment, breathing falling in line as you both enjoy the presence of each other. 

“You never told me why you work at a haunted house,” Eddie says, finally breaking the silence

“Oh- my brother is in charge of all the “cast members ", got me the gig and pays me well. Not really up my alley but it’s better than the mall,” you shrug, leaning up on your elbows to look outside.

“There’s more people outside, do you want to go back or…” Eddie quirks his eyebrow. 

“Orrr…” 

“We can do that again?”

[musicallyfomentingchaos]

Season two has done such a good job of reminding us that it's not about Stede and it has never really been about Stede.

It was about Stede when Ed cried under that blanket fort. It was about Stede when he sang that song. But then it wasn't. Ed loved Stede and felt rejected by Stede, but we all have to remember that the spiral came after Izzy.

Izzy said that Ed wasn't enough. Izzy would never care about Ed, only Blackbeard, a person that Ed made up, a character that he played. And Ed, who has been told his whole that he's not enough for god, for Hornigold, for his own father, spirals. Of course he does. Even the man who has been by his side for decades, who he knows and trusts more than anyone, can't love him. It's not Izzy's fault. There was always going to be a straw to break the camel's back.

So Edward Teach decides to kill himself. The Kraken is so much more than a bad breakup, it's a suicide. But wherever you go, there you are, so Ed tries again. Maybe beheading someone will kill Edward Teach. Maybe slaughtering everyone at a wedding. Maybe if he raids every single day, there won't be enough time for Edward Teach to get back up.

His death wish in episode 2 is his realization: the only way to kill Edward Teach is to go all the way with it. Edward Teach will be a part of his life, so he has to end it. And that realization changes him. He's calm, sober, even happy. Of course he is, the plan he's been working on for months is finally coming to fruition. Edward Teach is going to die.

And when you think about how much he hates Edward Teach, you understand why he shows no mercy. Edward Teach shows mercy. You understand why he can't be sober. Edward Teach is sober. You understand why he can't love Stede. Edward Teach loves Stede.

He lashes out at the mention of Stede's name because the second he hears it, he's pulled back into those weeks where he was Edward Teach. Full time. No Blackbeard, no masks, Edward Teach. Stede got him to spend so much time with Edward Teach. It's not about Stede anymore.

You realize that their reunion can't be a happy one. Stede may have pulled Ed off the brink, but that doesn't resolve any of the trauma and self hate. Ed has to figure that out, because Edward Teach loves Stede, and he can't love Stede until he can figure out how to stop trying to kill Edward Teach.

[miasudare]

Trailer break-down + Tiny Theories?

So, yes another trailer/teaser has been dropped -> This

So let's go over the check list first (I'm sorry if it's messy, it's really late at night for me)

These are the 5 follower forms: Check!

Meerkat, Skunk, Panda, Echidna and Camel(?)

2 outfits for BOTH the lamb and the followers: Check!

Lamb's being the cowboy clothes and this wheat one

Said outfits on followers + from comics with the backside

5 New decors: Check!

Bamboo walls, Chinese lights, Trees, Pagodas and Flower pots

2 unique quests being ''Jalala's Followers'' and something that isn't mentioned yet (or I've missed). But I think it might be about one of the npcs. Check?

Now, about pilgrim story:

This is what our Meerkat friend sees during their flasback moment, which is also the same things our Lamb sees when Clauneck shows them Narinder's card (you can even see both). Somehow, they get to see what Lamb saw. Maybe it's some sort of an astral thing. There's not much I can add, both because we have limited information and my main theories are based around the game itself.

Chemach

For a moment if you pay attention, you can see little Chemach, clearly way younger and without her crown/s. We probably will learn what caused her madness and her state of mind, how did she got a crown, how she killed other bearers and basically all about the feather family. From what I could read, it says ''WHY NOT CHEMACH!'' in the dialogue bubble. And she has legs.

The fucking adition

We have never seen this monster before. It does remind of the massive monster, it's clear that this creature is a spawn from the deepest rings of hell. Or maybe it's a new species of divines being added considering that one has fur and the game doesn't have demons but has angels (???'s babies and the enemy)

This new addition might gave us a new adventure route in the new update, other than purgatory and realms of the bishops. Maybe a realm for sins completely?

Not that divine

Let's play spot the difference! similarities!

Notice how the white part we thought of their face is just a mask? And the similarity between the 1st and 2nd skull?

Edit: So, the skull does has the name "god_skull" in the files. But I still like to think that guardians are related to the skull.

In my Story theory, which I find absolutely canon, I talked about Aym and Baal being demi-gods. Their fighting is literally same with ''Guardian'' (Baal's three hit melee combo and Aym's fireballs) Which technically means that Guardians ARE part of demi-gods. Sorta?

Even their idles are same!

And just like I said before, Aym and Baal ARE guardians.

Aym: Guardian/Protector of hell

Baal: Guardian/Protector of heaven

But there is something that takes my attention. Look at guardian's and Baal's weapons. Both are Sun. And, Baal's HP is higher than Aym's. So, does that mean that Aym hasn't fully reached godhood? His scar does match with the Guard's but I doubt it means anything.

Back to the subject, that the theory for Spore Grotto's skull being a God's might be wrong. It may be demi-god's too.

Check my other theories here!

Theory Master post

[lovlidollie]

Random Feyd HCs?

you said random so prepare yourself 😭 also i went way too far into this, the amount of research i did into the first few hcs alone is insane

feyd has a thing for imported cheeses and wines. giedi prime does not have the correct atmosphere nor natural resources to make soft, delicate cheese. the planet doesn’t have any photosynthetic potential, no room for grazing animals (let alone grass and greenery) and is so polluted that those who come visit are stuck with oxygen concentrators and advanced oxygen masks. almost, if not all food is imported from other planets: slig (a cross between a giant slug and a pig) from tleilax (feyd didn’t like it much, it was too sweet and not game-y enough for him.), milkbugs (arachnids the size of a small hand) and turtlebugs (sweet insects) from harmonthep (he didn’t like either. bugs weird feyd out and he doesn’t like looking at them.), paradan melon and pundi rice from caladan (the melon was just okay, but feyd loved having the rice with gyrak (heavily seasoned meat from zimia) as his post-arena meal.).

now let’s get into the wines. champia from rossak was something he only drank at dinner parties and official meetings. it’s a cloyingly sweet white wine, and bubbly, which feyd thinks is the only thing that makes it bearable. it’s too flowery and heady for him to properly enjoy. feyd has a high alcohol tolerance, but champia has a way of getting everyone wine-drunk quicker than they think. zincal is a very popular wine from caladan, which makes it the most accessible to the harkonnens. it’s a light red wine, clean and woody and cherry-like (cherries are one of feyd’s favourite fruits, he likes the acidity of them and enjoys chewing on the pits.) it’s a basic wine that feyd neither hates nor loves. now casyrack? his absolute favourite. it’s a dry, intense red wine, that needs to be aged. less than 5 years and it tastes thin and harsh and not at all enjoyable. it needs to be drunk before it’s eighth birthday, but feyd prefers it aged seven years exactly. it’s velvety and rich, with a smoky, spicy aftertaste that leaves feyd’s stomach feeling warm and his head pleasantly thrumming. it’s not popular across the known universe, leaving thousands of bottles sitting idly in the atreides family compound. feyd had to pull a lot of ropes to get a steady supply of the smooth wine.

now, cheeses. again, feyd is not a fan of sweet things. he likes his food salty, bitter, sour. thick cottage cheese is a yes from him. not the runny type and it specifically needs to be made from sheep milk. while he doesn’t like arrakis in general, he has a secret fondness for the food. feyd loves aged camel milk cheese. it’s rich and creamy with a clean finish and pairs well with meats. on that note, camel meat is one of his favourites to have. he eats all his meat bloody and basically raw (like.. feyd… it’s basically still alive…), but he likes how fatty the camel meat is, leaving it tender and juicy. he also likes thick cream cheese made with goat milk. feyd stuffs the cheese into dates and then rolls them in spice as a special treat for not killing too many people who pissed him off during the day.

feyd loves dark chocolate. he doesn’t like sweets and only enjoys them on very special occasions, which is why dark chocolate is so perfect for him. it’s hard to source, but when he’s able to get it imported he does not share with a single person. his favourite would be the 99%-100% cocoa bars. it helps make him slightly more manageable and puts him in a better mood.

he hosts the best parties on the planet. they’re exclusive and elusive, and all the harkonnen elite want nothing more but to be invited to a feyd-rautha party. supplies the guests with the best alcohol and food one can get their hands on. he generally sticks with his pets, stroking their skimpy, scantily-clad bodies while he drinks his wine. he doesn’t have many friends, but he has acquaintances that he has to keep up appearances with, so feyd is sure to make his way around and greet (threaten) everyone.

ends up fucking one of his pets over a table at one of his parties and ‘accidentally’ starts an orgy.

elite music taste. only knows bangers. gatekeeps the good stuff though.

has a blood kink and would willingly eat you out on your period if you’ve behaved. in fact i feel like he’d be more inclined to eat you out even if you haven’t been the best, purely because he is bloodlusting and wants to taste iron on his tongue.

on that note, would be into wound-fucking .. 🤷