#i need to break his bones and string him up oh my God

[urjover]

me: i love you peter nureyev i love you hugs you kisses you loves you

me getting out of bio (we talked abt the skeletal system), bees buzzing under my skin: i need to break him PHYSICALLY.

[pastlivesxpastlie]

Wonderful!

I have an nsfw thought about sub!ivy (or sub!vessel) x reader that I can’t get out of my head. Slow, deep, sensual, torturous (but the good kind) blowjob. Dom!reader doesn’t let them use their hands, they just have to take it or beg for more. Gender neutral reader preferred, but whatever you’re comfy with.

I need to bathe in holy water now. Enjoy ☺️

Hiiiii thank u for the request. I also need that holy water bath. maybe even an injection.

NSFW sub!iv x gn softdom!reader under the cut.

established relationship, cock warming, hand/blow job, pet names include "pet," "love," and "good boy," no reader genitals mentioned.

IV is being good. No really, he is! He’s minding his business, scrolling on his phone while you’re still asleep. Nothing can distract him from his quiet moment this rainy morning…except for his morning wood. Just because he was hard didn’t mean he needed to press against you and whine in your neck. You were sleeping! He’d be ok. But when you roll over and he gets a glimpse of your bare chest…he’s done for. Last night you were too sleepy to even put on pjs after your shower. That he could handle! Falling asleep next to your gorgeous body, nude or otherwise, was easy; what was damn-near mind melting was the surge of early morning hormones and blood that clouded his mind.

You look so peaceful. He thinks it would be rude to prod you awake…but god it would feel so amazing to grind against you…to make you writhe and moan as he finally gets played with. He shakes his head and sighs. His hand would have to do. As he pads across the cold hardwood floor to the bathroom, you stir.

“Ivvvyyyy,” you call out in your soft, sleepy voice.

He turns to see you stretching and beams back at you. “Good morning, sunshine.” For a second he thinks he won’t mind taking care of himself even if you’re awake, but then he sees you sit up. God…the way the blankets fall off you. It’s gloomy outside but the light seeping in hits you just right.

“Come back to bed, pet.”

Oh he’s in trouble. When you call him “pet” he knows he needs to be soft for you. Pliable. Submissive. He sits on the bed next to you and gently bumps your shoulder with his, but you turn and immediately start kissing his neck. He can’t think. He doesn’t need to think. 

“Were you actually going to take care of that yourself,” you coo. “I’m right here…”

IV gulps and leans into the kisses you’re placing on his cheek. “I’m…I’m sorry. You just looked too peaceful and…”

You hum contentedly. “That’s sweet, pet. But you know I’ll do anything for you…just…lay back down for me….there we go.” 

He rests on his pillow and watches as you slide off his underwear. The cool air of the bedroom is a welcome reprieve from the hot, aching need he experienced since he woke up. When you spread his thighs and settle down between them, his cock twitches. The muscle memory of you taking care of him working hard. 

“So eager in the morning for me…I can’t believe you didn’t want to wake me up for this… I should remind you what you can have if you’re a…”

His eyes are dreamy and hazy. He wants you to say it. PLEASE say it… He nods dumbly. “Go on.” 

“Hmm I don’t think I will.”

“Love, please say it,” he whines as you slowly trace lazy patterns over his hip bones. 

“Show me you deserve it. Put your hands behind your back….”

IV begrudgingly lays on his arms. He whines just from doing it because he wants to touch you so badly. Why does he have to suffer just to hear his favorite pet name? 

“Ivy. Look at me, pet.”

And he does. You two don’t break eye contact as you let a string of spit wet his cock. He shivers as the wetness mixes with the air but soon the room is filled with the sounds of his whines. His pleas. The long, languid strokes of your hand spreading the wetness indeed feels so much better than if he had done it himself. As he relaxes into your touch, he doesn’t feel the urge to use his hands. He doesn’t need to guide your head. His eyes roll back and close as you slowly stroke him, adding more spit and sweet-talking him. You praise him as his cock twitches from your soft grip going up and over the head of his cock; his sweet whimpers only make you go slower.

“Love…I need more. Please…” he begs.

“Tell me what you need, pet. ‘More’ doesn’t help me very much…” you tease lovingly. You rest your elbow on his waist and smile up at him. “Come on…”

Your grip loosens, which elicits a whine from IV and desperate hip bucking. He bites his lip when he sees you smile proudly. Maybe you’ll say it…he just has to find the words…the brain power to… “fffffuck. Please just suck it. I need your mouth…please… I’ll wake you up the next time I need to get off, I promise…love…PLEASE.” Your hand feels so good but he feels just the slightest bit neglected. He needs to feel your full attention. Your affection.

Without a word, you rub your lips on the underside of his cock. Your wet lips are a welcome sensation even though he desperately wants to use your mouth and hold your head in place. Instead he slips even further into his fuzzy warm headspace as you take him all the way in your mouth. He can feel the flutters of your breath tickle his body hair as you reach your limit. It’s ok that it isn’t all the way to the back…he’s just happy to be here. As you cockwarm him, your hand trails up his soft body, gently caressing him…kneading him where he’s soft and squishy like cookie dough. His cock twitches every time you let out a content laugh–one part because he likes to make you happy, the other part because the vibration is heavenly. Your fingertips trace his nipples delicately, which causes his hips to buck up, pushing him in deeper.

“Sorry…sorry love…”

You slowly pull him from your mouth. “If it feels good I want you to let me know…don’t apologize. You're being good, Ivy. You can move your arms now. No touching except my hand, ok?”

IV nods as he moves his sore arms from under his back. He places his hands on his chest and feels butterflies in his soft tummy when you gently touch his fingers.

“Hold my hand there, pet. I want to feel how excited you get…”

And when he moves his warm hands over yours on his chest, he might as well have purred. 

“And that’s why I call you ‘pet,’ my little animal. Do you know what else they call good pets, Ivy?”

He takes a sharp inhale. Oh my god. Oh my god. You might say it. “I think I might…but I…I need you to tell me, love.”

“Hmm,” you say thoughtfully as you cup his balls close to him, “well, I can only speak for myself…and what I have…is a good. boy.”

He can’t help my arch his back and choke back a moan–you finally said what he needed and he finally had some relief. Your slick mouth expertly moved up and down his shaft, taking special care to hollow your cheeks the closer you got to his head. His hands mashed your free hand into his chest. You could feel his heart pounding, his chest contracting from his ragged breath…moans bubbling from deep within him before they left his pretty lips. The way you gently tugged at his balls made his eyes cross but that was quickly forgotten as you’d let your lips glide all the way to the top of his cock’s head and then slowly…tenderly lowering yourself down. He gripped your arm to try and center himself, but he was losing all composure. He was so close and drunk on the sensation that he couldn’t even control his mouth. He begged, just whimpering “please please please please,” over and over. He whined out your name.  “Fuuck…just like that, just like that, please don’t stop.” He was pathetic. His eyes water as you keep him right on the edge. He is so desperate that he cries out like a trapped animal. “Please tell me I'm a good boy again. Please. PLEASE.”

He’s writhing. And has suffered long enough. You take his cock out of your mouth and stroke it quickly… just the way he likes it. “You’re my good boy. Aren’t you? Such a good boy…with such a pretty cock..”

Oh he can’t handle that sweet talk. Not for a second. All the while you’re praising him, he’s shooting his ropes over your hand…but that doesn’t stop you. You coo at him and kiss his stomach as you continue to rub him, using his cum as lube. When you move up to lay beside him, he’s a sniffling, whimpery mess. He pulls you close and kisses you deeply but so gently. “Thank you, love….god…thank you. You are going to get yours tonight…just you wait.”

[whaleofatjme1920]

Unrequited Love and Other Angst Minis

[Creepypasta, Marble Hornets X GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Emotional manipulation, angst, bunch of sad thoughts MINORS DNI]

[AN: returning to my roots of breaking hearts. Did you see the Bones and All reference? LOVE Bones and All.]

Reblogs are appreciated!

Slenderman

How entirely foolish of you, to think you could ever earn and even think you deserve the special, specific love of a god.

He doesn't even need you to actually say it. He can smell it. It makes him feel an overwhelming disgust for you.

Humans and their pathetic emotions of love, how despicable. He actually takes a moment or so to think about how he wants to handle this. He can't really get rid of you. I mean, he can, but you're still useful to him even though you're so blinded by him and your feelings for him.

If you were a favored proxy of his, consider your emotions now heavily exploited! He will string you along due to your affection and desire for him that crosses far over the 'love' he usually gives his proxies.

He will destroy you from the inside out knowing that you love him and want him like a lover does. Will bring you to the highest peak only to send you plummeting down when he takes his warmth away. It's a vicious cycle, his hatred of you for feeling actual love for him, and his glee in knowing he can exploit you.

Jeff the Killer

Oh isn't this rich? One of Slender's pets is feeling the desire for something other than heavy obedience? He too desires to exploit this kind of love.

You tell him and he cackles at you, damn near berates you for feeling this way towards him. And then, when he realizes you're being entirely serious, it makes him pause. That's something he can use.

Similar to Slender, he will string you along too. But it's not... always bad. He will play around with you like he loves you, but his touch is always empty. His gaze is always cold. He doesn't actually care about you the way you care about him.

But how you feel doesn't really concern him. As long as you do as he asks, the things he doesn't want to do, the tasks he wants to half bake, the things that were meant as punishments for him, he doesn't care as long as you're functional.

In that same light, he won't let you do similar for anyone else. He will keep you trapped under his thumb, his hold suffocating, but all you can think of is how at least he's still in your life.

Eyeless Jack

He too laughs. You're joking, you gotta be. There's no way you're actually serious. He sees you as an ally, not necessarily a friend. He doesn't think he's actually done anything special to earn that attention from you.

It does give him an ego boost, but he doesn't like you back. Straight up tells you that the two of you will never happen. Jack is capable of a romantic relationship, but it wouldn't be with you for whatever reason he's listed off to you right then and there.

The notion of closure from him is far too uncomfortable. He's precise and cutting in the way he explains WHY he doesn't like you or doesn't think the two of you would work out. Still, he'd like to keep your company as a friend.

That's where it hurts the most. That ego boost he felt from knowing that you like him makes him act a bit differently whenever you're out with him. EJ is, at least the way I usually write him, an asshole. It's kind of an experiment for him: how much can he prod until you lash out at him?

And when you do lash out, he only laughs. He's never really taken you as seriously as you do him. Though, a part of him does feel bad seeing you like this. The Slenderman calls you one of his most beloved because you're efficient, powerful, and tactically minded. Gods, it's fascinating how love messes with the human mind.

Masky (Written more like Tim)

One of those rare scenarios where Tim actually DOES love you back. God, does he love you back. He knows how dangerous it is to have an actual relationship, but the more human part of him wants to say 'screw it' and let himself be happy for once.

You watch the light in his eyes die when he realizes what this means after you confess. If the Slenderman finds out, he'll exploit the hell out of the two of you and one of you might end up dying to the other's hand. Usually, proxies being romantically involved together wouldn't be an issue, but you and Tim are so specifically on The Operator's radar.

For one night, the two of you love each other. It's a pure kind of love, the kind two souls who were lost found home in each other kind of love.

But when the morning comes, he's gone, and you're transferring groups. Masky and Tim unanimously agreed to keep you safe that you can no longer keep in contact with one another, and that means switching groups and moving as far away from each other as you can. In that same breath, the two agreed to relinquish and deny all feelings for you.

You find Masky a few years later, just a stupid joint mission your boss wants you to complete and for your team to act as extra muscle. Your heart swells seeing Masky. He barely looks you in the eye, and in that moment, you realize the man who'd loved you died before the Slenderman could get to him first.

Hoodie

How tragic. Hoodie feels at odds with himself, both the human and proxy part of him. They're warring with each other, but both of them unanimously agree that they don't love you back, at least, not like that.

Brian himself is especially in a lot of turmoil over this confession. As his group's right hand and you as a runt, he's not quite sure HOW to process something like this. It's so human to love, so human to speak in tones like this, and so human to touch with just a single glance.

Brian doesn't want to be human anymore, not like this. He allows Hoodie to take full control, and that means icing you out as much as he can to defend himself from any further pain. It's not like Brian OR Hoodie want to, but it's to keep you safe. To keep himself safe.

It doesn't really matter in the end. The Slenderman finds out about your 'much too human' emotions, and decides to punish the right hand for not acting with authority sooner. It breaks his heart to know the Slenderman's plan, and he becomes a shell of himself when he sees it enacted. The Slenderman set you 'free', and after you'd just let your guard down, he sent Hoodie to finish the job. Your heart, the trophy and proof.

Your boss, ever the romantic, wanted it still beating.

Toby

Toby feels a lot of different things when you confess to him on accident. His heart beats just a little faster but an old wound feels like it's been ripped wide open after what the Slenderman did to him and Clockwork for daring to be in love. It honestly makes him panic.

He really considers it. He loves you too. Well, romantic love might not be the right notion. He definitely loves you, but it's a newfound overwhelming desire to take care of you and take you far away from this world. So, that's exactly what he does. He runs away with you.

"You want to be people? Let's be people." "Yeah, let's be them for a while." For a few months, you and Toby are quite happy. Wide open space, the stars, a modest little home to call your own. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, and it's bound to not last. There's no way the two of you won't be tracked down, but Toby only hopes that it's himself being punished, not you.

Of course, it all comes crashing down. Toby tries his hardest to keep you safe, to keep the promise he made to himself kept. But it doesn't really matter. He got his wish: he was being punished. The Slenderman, in all his paternal love and glory, forced Toby's hand.

As he held you while you took your final breaths, dying from wounds his hands had inflicted on you, he sobbed, cursing the day he allowed himself to feel love rather than denying and burying it. He hates that he's the reason people he cares about keep getting hurt.

[mintmatcha]

cw: fem reader with she/her pronouns, zbaby and child talk.

"What if they don't like me?"

Osamu turns so suddenly that you're afraid he's going to swerve the car, humor drained from his face.

"They like 'tsumu." He stares at you a bit too long before looking back at the road. Luckily, out here in farm land, in between acres of crops, there's no one else driving.

You glance over your shoulder, expecting his twin to defend himself, but the instead the blonde is slumped in his chair, neck cocked oddly to the side. Despite your attempt to fight it, a smile creeps up on the corners of your lips. Even with drool on his cheek and a bit of a snore, he's beautiful.

"If our friends like him, they'll like anyone," Osamu clarifies.

Osamu is beautiful too, of course. They are twins; it would be strange for you not to find them both attractive, but Osamu doesn't glow like Atsumu does. Not to you, anyway.

You've spent a lot of time looking at their faces. Both men have round cheek bones and low nose bridges, with the same copper skin all year round, but Osamu's nose doesn't crinkle when he laughs, Osamu doesnt hum when he's thinking, and Osamu certainly doesn't look at you with a smile so bright it's as if he's staring into the sun.

You turn back around and stare at the road, flustered by your own romantic waxing.

"Can I talk to you about something?"

Osamu's hands squeak against the pleather steering wheel. "Sure. Why not?"

"I like your brother a lot, but-"

"Oh, fucking shit, fuck," Osamu's eyes are wide, cursing low as to not waking up the man in question, "You're breaking up with him?"

"No! No, I'm so in lo-" you stop yourself for admitting to that, "Things are good. We are good."

"Thank fucking god," Osamu sighs. "He's having a lot of fun with you."

That sentence does nothing to calm the sick feeling in your stomach. You pick at the edge of your dress, pulling away loose strings and nonexistent pieces of lint.

"That's my worry." The road continues straight, almost disappearing into the distance, but a house ha come into view, perched upon all this land, "Osamu, I'm really serious about your brother. I think I wanna marry him one day."

Osamu was your friend before you even knew his brother. At first, he seemed to dislike your relationship, but lately, he's warmed up to it. His hand pats your knee with the platonic warmth, "And that's bad because...?"

"I'm worried he's just having fun with me," you admit, "I don't know if he ever wants to settle down and get married or have kids or-"

Osamu cuts you off with a thunderous, booming bark of a laugh.

"'samu!" Atsumu pokes his head between the front seats with a whine. "You scared me."

"Oh, cram it." Osamu's wiping a tear from his cheek, "Blame your girlfriend for being so funny."

Atsumu squeezes your shoulder with a hum, still drowsy. "She's fucking hilarious."

You watch Osamu, hoping for an explanation, but he just raises his eyebrows and bites his lip, shoulders bouncing with silent laughter. Is he laughing at you? Is this why he didn't want you dating his brother?

The two of them talk a little as the house gets closer and closer, but you can't bring yourself to say anything until the tires start to crunch on the pebbled driveway.

"It's Kiba, right?"

"Kita," Atsumu corrects, "And Aran and his wife and Suna and his Komori are coming too,"

"Can't believe I'm the last single one," Osamu laments.

"You're practically fucking your restaurant,"

"You're married to the store."

You and Atsumu quip at the same time. He laughs, reaching to grab your hand, but you don't connect with him. Osamu's laughter is still ringing in your ears.

Is it that stupid to want to be with Atsumu? Maybe you do need to break up.

When Osamu parks the car, a man is already waiting on the porch. His hair is a salt and pepper splattering, stark against his deeply tanned skin. He has the calm presence that you were told about; you can feel it the second you step out of the car.

"Kita!" Osamu greets.

"Welcome. It's so nice to-"

The slam of the bar door and Atsumu's voice cuts him off. "Where's my girl?"

A puff of curly grey hair streaks from the front door and barrels its way down the dirt driveway, barefoot and dress akimbo. You barely have time to realize it's a child before she's launched herself into Atsumu's awaiting arms. He catches her with ease, twirling her around in a circle as they both dissolve into laughter.

"Stormy girl!"

"Uncle Atsumu!" she giggles,"Throw me! Throw me!"

He squats down a bit and then launches up, tossing the little girl into the air and immediately catching her again. He does that a couple times, laughing all the way.

"Again! Again!"

"Later," he nestles her into his side easily, despite her much too be to be carried, "Me and your aunt over there will play with you all you want, okay?"

You melt a bit. Aunt- as if you're already family.

Kita, who's clearly her father the more you look at the both of them, just sighs, amused. "Please remember that you cannot throw the baby like that."

"Kita-san! I'm not gonna throw the baby!" Atsumu says with mock offense, "I'm just gonna sniff her little head."

"What?' Osamu gawks, turning ro you in horror.

"Don'tcha know babies smell good?" Atsumu turns to you too, "He's hopeless, huh?"

The glimmer in his eye makes your stomach flip flop. He looks so good like this, hair tussled and a baby on his hip.

"Hopeless," you agree.

The other other men start chatting, heading in towards the house, but Atsumu heads to you.

"Baby, this one right here is my favorite girl in the world," he gestures to Kita's daughter, "Stormy girl, this is my girlfriend. Say hi."

"Hi, Miss Girlfriend," she says, "Nice to meet you."

"Aww, you have such nice manners," you say, "It's nice to meet you too, Stormy."

"That's not really my name. Uncle Atsumu is just silly." She wriggles until he lets her down, "Wanna see my baby sister? She's too tiny to walk, so we gotta go to her."

"Please say yes-" Atsumu whispers not so quietly, "I've been dying to hold this stupid baby."

A warmth overtakes your earlier worries. "I'd love that."

-

Hours later, after everyone has arrived and dinner is long finished, the whole group is gathered in the living room. Aran, Suna, Kiba- you almost have their names down - are all reminiscing about high school as their partners mingle to themselves. Atsumu is on the couch, pinned in place by a sleeping six year old across his lap and a fussy baby in his arms. Somehow, he still looks peaceful and content.

"I hate to admit it," Osamu saddles up beside you, qine glass in hand, "Baby head does have a good smell."

"Yeah," you agree.

"About your concern earlier... He'd marry you today if he could," Osamu continues quietly, "He's been telling Ma about how much he loves you."

An elbow bumps against your side. "He's not afraid to say it like you are."

You titter a bit over that, embarrassed but glowing at the thought of being loved back, "I'll say it soon."

"Just be careful," Osamu takes a long drink, "He's gonna have baby fever for the next month, so you better set an alarm for birth control or whatever."

You look at your boyfriend as he stares down at blissed out smile.

"Maybe I want a baby too."

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

I love how you write soldier boy…would you be able to write how he reacts with a spider-woman reader…she’s just swinging webs all around him and his old man brain cannot handle it. She’s a fit as a fiddle and she’s stressing him out because she will not just…sit down! (Preferably they’ve been dating for ages) 💖

More Than a Spider Can

masterlist

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, talk of sex, the boys spoilers

timeline: set in an au shortly after the events of season 3

author’s note: another request!? i’m genuinely flattered! sending you so much love anon, thank you! this was so fun to write, and something i never would’ve thought of! thank you so so much!

gif source

You’d have to thank Butcher one day for introducing you to the Supe you now lived with. He had needed a place to “hide” Soldier Boy shortly after the Supe incapacitated Homelander. You were hesitant at first, but Soldier Boy had just de-powered the most dangerous person on the planet, you had to help him out!

Butcher claimed it wouldn’t be for very long, but Soldier Boy never ended up leaving. Not that you minded, he was surprisingly sweet. You expected him to be a complete asshole but he wasn’t as bad as the stories you’d heard.

After about a month you took him up on the offer he’d made the first second he saw you. You spent a night together. Then another. And another. And a few more. And before you could overthink it, you said those three words that he then repeated.

With Mallory’s help, Butcher managed to clear Soldier Boy’s name, and even get the two of you a job at Supe Affairs (which was now run by Hughie since Neuman was running for Vice President).

So now, here you were; asking Hughie for clearance to go after a Supe who’d been stalking their ex.

“Y/n, there’s no actual proof this guy is doing anything you’re saying he’s done!” Hughie said.

“Hughie, the witness is a friend of mine. She’s not fucking lying about this!”

“I believe you, but I need proof before I let Soldier Boy kick his ass!”

“Soldier Boy won’t lay a hand on him, you have my word.”

“Oh, so you suddenly have control over Soldier Boy?”

“No, but I am faster than him! I’ll have this guy webbed up before Ben even gets there.”

“Ben,” He laughed a little. “Still can’t believe you’re dating the guy. Figured you’d hate Butcher for dumping him on you, but turns out you fell in love.”

“Okay,” You rolled your eyes at his teasing. “Just shut up and sign the damn form so I can get this asshole.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. But you better be sure Ben doesn’t break any fuckin’ bones. I’m tired of cleaning up your boyfriend’s messes.”

**

“What the absolute fuck…” Ben furrowed his brows, walking into the kitchen. “Y/n!?”

“Yes?” You asked, clinging to the roof.

“God-fucking-damnit woman!” He exclaimed, putting a hand to his chest. “Why does our kitchen look like a spider puked in here?”

“I’m just making dinner, Ben, calm down! I’ll clean this all up when I’m done.” You hopped down from the roof.

“You…” He tried opening the fridge but it was stuck. “Y/n, I’m trying to stay calm here but why the fuck can’t I open the fridge?”

“Sorry,” You smiled with cringe-clenched teeth. You opened the door for him.

“So why are you on the roof?” He asked when you jumped back up.

“I cook better when things are upside down,” You shrugged with a smile.

“I sure do wish your mouth was close enough to kiss, though,” He sighed dramatically, you rolled your eyes a little. You let yourself down a few feet, hanging on a string of web.

“I think kisses are better upside down too,” You smiled. He kissed you, smiling against your lips.

**

“Dinner is served,” You smiled, holding two plates as you walked into the living room.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Ben smiled when he took a plate. He furrowed his brows a little when you didn’t sit down right away. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“Yeah, of course,” You replied. Before Ben could say anything, you jumped up onto the roof before letting yourself hang upside down on a string of web. “What’re we watching?”

“Uh…Smallville,” He nodded slightly. “It’s…what was on…” He trailed off a little as you began eating upside down. “Honey, wha…what’re you doing?”

“Eating dinner?” You furrowed your brows. “Why? Is something wrong?”

“No it’s…all good,” He replied.

“So, you think Homelander ever watched this show?” You asked, half-heartedly.

“No clue,” Ben mumbled.

“Oh, by the way! Hughie gave me the thumbs up for going after Cara’s ex.”

“Cara?”

“Yeah, my old neighbor, you met her. Her ex is that creepy Supe who’s only power is x-ray vision and all he does is hang around outside dressing rooms and Victoria’s Secret stores.”

“Uh huh?”

“Anyway, Hughie gave me his location, I’m going after him tomorrow night. It’s no biggie if you don’t wanna come with me, it’s not gonna be much of a fight.”

“No, yeah…I’ll get the next one…have fun.”

There was about thirty seconds of silence before you put your plate down and swung your way over to the kitchen. You came back a moment later with two cold beers.

“Okay, would you stop!” He suddenly snapped.

“Ben?”

“You- Just- Goddamnit Y/n, I wanted to just fucking sit with you and watch this show but you’re on the fucking roof! Are you mad at me or something? Why don’t you want to relax with me?” What started off as an angry expression turned to one of hurt, which broke your heart a little.

“Ben, I’m not mad at you!” You exclaimed, hurrying down from the roof and sitting next to him. “I’m sorry, I just- I dunno, I don’t think much of it. I just like being off the floor.”

“It does look pretty fun,” He mumbled. He pulled you onto his lap, keeping your back pressed against his chest. “But sometimes I just want you here on the floor with us non-spider-people.”

“Okay, I’ll try and walk around like a normal person,” You huffed. “But only cause I love you so much.” You turned and kissed him quickly before focusing on the TV.

**

“Ben, what are you doing here?” You asked him the following night. “This is my case, I’m supposed to bring this guy in.”

“Oh, c’mon, don’t pretend you aren’t thrilled to see me,” He smirked.

“Of course I’m happy to see you,” You smiled, putting a hand on his cheek. “Just let me take the lead on this one, okay?”

“Fine,” He sighed.

“Are you two gonna eye-fuck all night or can we fight like regular freaks and get this over with?” The man at the other end of the street shouted.

“Think I’m gonna eye-fuck her a little longer if you don’t mind!” Ben called back. “I take it back, I’m bringing this asshole down!” He smirked then took off down the street.

“Fuck,” You mumbled to yourself. You knew full well you were faster than Ben but you didn’t like showing him up all the time. “Oh well.”

You thwiped a thick piece of web to a billboard above the street and hurled yourself up and onto it. You then ran down the side of a building and landed on top of the Supe before he could see where you were. You had him webbed up like a fly before Ben even made it down the street.

“Seriously? You take all the fun out of this!” Ben grumbled. “You can’t just web the guy up! I was in the mood for some ass kicking!”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you so much my beautiful girlfriend, Y/n! Because of you I still have a job at the bureau and now we can go relax in our apartment because you managed to take down this Supe in record time!’ Then I would have said, ‘of course Soldier Boy! I love you so much and you’re very welcome’.”

“I love you too,” He mumbled.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you?” You asked, walking up to him. You wrapped your hands behind his head, running your fingers through his hair.

“I love you too,” He rolled his eyes a little.

“Come on, just kill me, I’d rather that, then watch this!” The webbed-up Supe groaned. “Y/n, I thought your type was guys your age, not-” He was cut off by you webbing his mouth closed.

“What does Campbell want us to do with this asshole?” Ben asked, not letting his green eyes break contact with your love-filled ones. You tilted your head a little and smirked. “What?”

“You just called Hughie by his real name,” You giggled. Ben thought about it for a second and sighed with annoyance when he realized you were right.

[babydollmarauders]

Okay, I am here with Frat!Jack thoughts

1.) Baby doll likes hickeys but doesn't like having to bundle up when the weather starts getting warmer coz lil sensory issues with sweating (girl same) so jack comprises with leaving them in her thighs just BARELY covered by her skirt.

2.) Frat!Jack finally pulling his head out his ass and coming back for his girl coz Luke said she was going on a date (she wasn't) to a coffee shop (it was the first time she'd left the house semi presentable in days) with a guy on the basketball team (god fucking forbid) and Jack's brain was just *car crash noises* and he came storming in like "YOU'RE MY WOMAN BE GONE THIEF." except no thief. Just baby doll like 😧

3.) Hockey Frat House is a big party house for the girlies coz the guys drink their respect women juice coz Queen Ellen is feared and beloved

4.) everyone on the devil's (once jack gets head out his ass) expecting the rookie to be a little fratboy shithead chasing puck bunnies except first game Baby doll comes too he's all 😍😍 wife guy but in the not weird way and the team is like. Okay.... Sure.

5.) That icebreaker scene that blew up on Tiktok of the main dude coming to get his girl to come back to bed with him in the middle of a party in just his boxers to cuddle? That. Twice.

6.) Jack being given a Taylor swift style friendship bracelet that's bright pink that says Babydoll on it as a joke but he wears it ALL THE TIME.

7.) Trevor being absolutely scandalised whenever they so much as look at each other. Because obviously.

....I have other au thoughts....

addressing these one by one!!

1. babydoll loves hickeys but no one loves them more than jack! his absolute favorite thing is to mark her up! they definitely compromise by letting him give them to her only in spaces that can be covered by her skirts. jack goes a bit overboard sometimes,, i’m talking upper thighs, hip bones, lower stomach, ass, ALL OVER THAT AREA and babydoll gives him a look like “really?”.

2. i’m a firm believer that babydoll and luke become besties when he gets to umich and jack hates it but loves it at the same time. but it definitely comes in handy during times like that when jack and babydoll are on a break and luke pulls some matchmaking strings to get get them back together.

3. oh for sure! i mean, the guys might be fuckboys, but they’re respectful! most certainly because they know Mrs. Hughes wouldn’t hesitate to yell at them if she heard they were anything but respectful!

4. the devils guys definitely expect some cocky fuckboy frat boy, so when jack arrives and won’t stop mentioning his beautiful girlfriend and talks about how he misses her because she’s still in Michigan for another year? the team is shocked and just like “oh?? okay then…”. there’s definitely still a few teammates that expect him to be sleeping with puck bunnies the first chance he gets, but then at their first team outing at the bar after a winning game, jack is just incredibly drunk and moaning about how he just wants his girl and turning down any other girl who comes up to him.

5. that happens at least twice! just a sleepy and still a bit tipsy jack, wandering down the stairs of the frat in nothing but his boxers, earning quite a few whistles and shouts as he walks straight to babydoll— boy will not take no for an answer, he doesn’t even give her the time to say anything, he just lifts her into his arms and turns back around and straight back to his room. babydoll is just looking at him stunned and goes “jacky, what are you doing?” and he’s all pouty, replying with “you left. i need cuddles.”

6. he definitely receives the bracelet at a sorority party that one of babydoll’s friends put together. all the other guys that got bracelets with their girls names on them threw the bracelets away, but not jack. that bracelet becomes a staple in his wardrobe, only coming off to shower.

7. oh god, babydoll and jack even breathe in the same vicinity and trevor is giving them the most disgusted look, telling them to “get a room.” and “not everyone wants your love disease, some of us don’t wanna see that.” and jack and babydoll are just “?????”

[pavlovianfuckery]

lets be mean to dream 2: electric boogaloo

MASTERLIST

linky for those AO3-ly inclined: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54374959

i can't be the only one who has wanted to hook Dream up to an e-stim unit and zap him until his galaxy-brain turns to mush, right? bone apple tea, i guess?

3.3k of filth under the cut, enjoy!

The way he trusted you would probably never cease to amaze you. Not blindly or without the occasional teasing remark but he did, even if you sometimes treated him a little bit like a science project, especially in the bedroom. Lately one of your favorite pastimes had been introducing him to what one might call the many wonders of modern living. Morpheus himself however seemed to prefer calling it "your inexplicable fondness for lewd objects". But since he was in turn fond of you, it usually worked itself out.

At the end of the day you were just glad for the moments he'd spend with you, both in and out of the bedroom. Here in this little bubble you share, he doesn't have to carry all the weight of who he is. All he needs to be is yours, nothing more or less than that. And if for those small snippets of time he could relax a bit and just feel, all the better. Gods knew that if anyone needed a break, it was him.

You weren't sure how he'd react this time, but you were equal parts eager and nervous to find out.

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

It takes a few days until you see him again, so by the time he visits you in the Waking you've half forgotten about the unassuming black bag on your nightstand. You'd been debating with yourself how to bring it up, or if you even should. While he'd yet to refuse you, what you had in mind this time would push him, perhaps a bit too much. The decision is soon out of your hands because he notices it the minute he enters your bedroom. He doesn't ask what's inside though, simply giving it an apprehensive look.

"You are in a gaming mood tonight, I see."

There's not much point denying it, so you wrap your arms around his waist and give him a quick kiss.

"Maybe." You grin at him, though inwardly you're still not quite sure about this. Maybe going out and buying those extras was putting the cart in front of the horse? "I wanted to try something a bit different tonight."

"You know that I would deny you nothing, my sweet."

That nearly makes you wince, because he clearly has no idea what he's in for.

"Maybe don't make me any promises just yet," you laugh, taking his hand. "Come to bed?"

He follows you so eagerly, it almost makes you feel a bit bad. Only almost though, because this could potentially be fun. Not wanting to get ahead of yourself you sit down and pat the covers next to you.

"Well?" He looks at you expectantly as he joins you there, lips twitching into a small smile. "It is not quite like you to be this secretive." His eyes are full of mirth as he continues, "Should I perhaps be worried that you have planned something nefarious?"

That's one of the things you love about him, the way he knows exactly how to put you at ease with nothing but a few words. You take a deep breath and let it out through your nose.

"That's not the word I'd use, but maybe it's better if I show you." You scoot back a bit and grab the bag, placing it between you. It's quick work to get it open and lay some of the items out on the covers.

"Is this what you were worried to show me?" He picks up some of the cables and frowns in what for him is very apparent confusion. "Pieces of string and..." He picks up another part and turns it around in his hands, "a box?"

Oh, this will be fun.

"It's not just any box, "you're tempted to waggle your eyebrows at him as you continue, "it's a magical box."

"A magical box."

Between his deadpan delivery and obvious scepticism, you can't quite hold back a snort.

"Ok, it's not magical. It can make you feel really good though." You shift on the bed, already imagining all the things you want to do to him.

"And you wish to use it on me, I assume?" He doesn't sound disinterested so far, which makes your stomach fill with hopeful butterflies.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot. If you want, of course." You inwardly cross your fingers as he considers it.

"Very well." He eyes the items laid out between you again and continues, "Though I am afraid that I am quite at a loss as to how you would use most of these items."

"You don't need to worry about that part, let me handle that." You lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, smiling as you hook a finger in the neckline of his shirt and give it a small pull. "The clothes need to go, though."

You don't think you'll ever get bored of watching him undress. Even here in the Waking he could simply magic his clothes away, but he barely ever does, preferring to take his time. Just the sight of the lean muscles of his back flexing as he pulls his t-shirt over his head is enough to make your mouth water. He doesn't usually deliberately put on a show, he doesn't need to. But he must be in a particularly good mood because he really takes his time today. Especially when he bends over to pull his jeans off his legs, making you choke on your own spit. You try to keep your cough discreet, but it doesn't work very well.

"Are you quite alright, my sweet?" His tone is airy and nonchalant, but you know that he knows exactly what he's doing. One of these days he very well could be the death of you.

"I'm fine," you clear your throat, "absolutely fantastic."

Finally, he joins you on the bed, the very picture of leisure as he stretches out on his side next to you. For a moment you almost forget what the plan was, he's that distracting. Right. Less ogling, more setting up. As you rifle through the bag you have a thought.

"Can I tie you up, too?" You hastily add, "Just a little bit?"

"Why would you need to do that?"

You debate how to respond to that but settle on something that's very nearly the truth.

"This is easier if you stay still, so things don't move too much."

He seems to take exception to that and scoffs.

"I am perfectly capable of staying still, I assure you."

"Well..." You tap your lip thoughtfully, "It's not that I don't think you can't, I just don't want you to, I don't know, roll over and make me zap you by mistake or something."

"I see." He watches as you wrangle the cables. "How would you have me then?"

"On your back is fine." You swear under your breath as you hit a knot and start picking it out, careful not to break anything. "There are a few parts to make this work, so I hope you can indulge me for a bit."

"As opposed to my usual uncharitable disposition?" He's clearly teasing you, but he's got a point.

You finally manage to get the cables straightened out and connected to the right channels.

"There we go, that's that done. So now I'm just going to connect these here..." you grab a couple of plain rubber rings from the collection scattered on the bed, "and then..." You rifle through the box until you find what you're looking for. "One of these."

The plug is modestly sized, the only thing setting it apart is the shape, with a sweeping curve and bulbous tip.

"You should be able to handle this one, right?" You're sure he can, but you figure it's only polite to ask. When you show it to him, he looks less than impressed.

"As I am sure you can recall, you have had me with larger before." It's not quite an eye-roll, but it's not not that, either.

"That isn't why I'm asking, but I see your point." You connect it too, then put the box to the side for the moment. Giving the bag another rifling through, you come out with what looks like a small syringe, sans needle. "This next bit can be a bit messy, but bear with me for just a bit longer?"

Thankfully, filling the syringe up with conductive gel is a much quicker process, and in a minute you've got it ready, giving his hip a poke with your finger.

"Turn over a bit for me?" He obeys readily enough, letting you slide the slim instrument into him easily. When you press the plunger down, he gives a little hiss. "Sorry, that's cold, isn't it?"

"By some miracle, I am sure I shall survive," He responds dryly.

That earns him a pinch on the backside as you pull the syringe out.

"The cheek of you! Watch the attitude or you might be sorry in a minute."

That catches his interest.

"Oh, will I now?" He turns over and props himself up on his elbows, eyes gleaming.

Definitely.

"Maybe." You retrieve some padded cuffs from one of the drawers of the nightstand and dangle them in front of him. "Do these meet His Majesty's approval?"

"They do. What is your wish?" He lays back, arms above his head and crossed at the wrist, "Like this, perhaps?"

"Almost. Let me." You attach the cuffs to either side of the headboard and guide his wrists to where you want them, pressing a tender kiss to each one before strapping him in. Making sure that the restraints are tight but not overly so, you stroke his hair. "You good?"

"Yes."

That's good enough, so you start lubing the plug up as he watches you with interest. When you're satisfied with the amount, you tap the side of his knee. "Lift for me."

Sliding the plug into place makes his eyelashes flutter, his breath speeding up by the tiniest fraction as his cock stirs to life. You can't quite resist lapping at him, sucking him into your mouth until he grows fully hard there, throbbing on your tongue.

Sliding the rings on him is a bit fiddlier but eventually you get them in place, one going around both his shaft and balls, the other nestled right behind his tip. It's the first time he's let you do something like this, and the sight of his cock this way is mesmerizing.

"Still good?" Applying more of the gel, you make sure there are no dry spots under the rings. When he still doesn't respond you trace your finger around his tip, just barely touching but enough to make him pay attention.

"...Yes."

"Great!" You turn the box on. "How does this feel?" Turning it up to the lowest setting, you watch him carefully.

"Different, but...not unpleasant."

You turn it back down and fiddle with the settings for a few seconds, setting it to a slow wave pattern before turning it back up, a tad higher this time."How about this?"

That gets a reaction, his brow furrowing and his mouth falling open.

"That is...good."

He lets a quiet groan as you turn it up a bit more, his cock starting to ever so slightly throb in time with the pulses, a bead of precum forming at his tip. You settle in next to him, just watching him for a few moments. This might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him, and you're enjoying every minute of it. Running your hand across his chest you consider turning it up some more, but decide against it for now, instead gently circling one of his nipples with your fingers. Rubbing the pad of your finger across it rewards you with a small moan.

"You like that?" Without waiting for a response you do it again, watching it stiffen under your touch. Every time you rub him he lets out a small gasp, but he seems too focused on the sensations to reply. You flick your tongue over his nipple and blow on it gently, watching the goosebumps erupt all over his pale skin. "Hello? Earth to Dream?"

"Do that again."

"Do what again? This?" This time you do turn the power up and watch as his cock throbs even more, leaking freely now. "Or did you mean this?" You make your tongue broad and flat, dragging it over his nipple before gently sucking the rosy little nub into your mouth.

That makes him grip the sheets, knuckles white. Despite his earlier confidence, he isn't very still at all, hips starting to arch off the bed. Not ready for this to be over too quickly you dial the power back down, but not turning it off. As he eases back down you kiss his shoulder, admiring the blush slowly creeping across his skin, all the way down his chest.

"You should see yourself right now," you sigh, stroking his hair, "you're so beautiful like this, so perfect. You want more?"

Rather than respond he simply leans into your touch, breath heavy.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." This time you turn it up a smidge higher than before, making him arch off the bed again. Watching his cock throb, you count to ten pulses before turning it back down again. You give him a moment to recover, then do it again, this time counting to twenty before turning it back down, leaving him squirming. For a while you simply repeat the process over and over, up, down, ten, twenty. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, but for every cycle he falls apart a bit more, until he’s nearly vibrating off the bed. "Still good, or do you want me to stop?" You eye his dribbling cock with something like pity. “We can take a break, if you want.”

"Don't..." His lips are red and a bit swollen where he's been worrying at them with his teeth, his voice breathless, "Don't stop, not yet."

"Think you can come like this?" You watch as he rolls his hips, his legs opening and closing.

"I think...I..." He swallows and frowns, "Perhaps, I want...I...."

"Want to try?" You're pretty sure you've never seen him struggle for words before. Usually, he's the one picking you apart until you can hardly speak, not the other way around.

"Yes," he nods, almost panting, "yes..."

You turn the machine up again, higher still. Glancing at the display you can see that it's only at 45% power so far, but he's already chasing it, his almost frantic movements leaving the bedding in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. This time you get count to thirty, but he can't quite get there, collapsing back against the pillows in a frustrated heap, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"I can't," he gasps, "I want, I can't...please..."

"Shhh, relax, let me help you," you kiss his cheek, tasting his tears. "Tell me what you need."

Feeling a bit evil you sneakily keep your fingers on the dials, slowly increasing the strength as he tries to speak, making his words come out in fits and starts.

"Again, your mouth, I..."

The meaning is clear enough, but you watch him struggle for a few moments more just because you can. When you put your hands on him his skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the taste of it floods your mouth as you suck his nipple into your mouth again and swirl your tongue over it. Giving the other one some attention as well, you hear his whispered pleas turning louder, growing more urgent as you give him a little pinch.

It's mostly a litany of please, making it clear that for once he's completely lost in sensation, no other thought in that pretty head of his except for pleasure. It doesn't take long for his breaths to become uneven, the 'please' turning into oh, more drawn out for every pulse until he lets go, scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as he finally comes, his release drawn from him in thick bursts. You regret not being able to see him properly, especially when you feel a few stray droplets hit your cheek, because that’s just plain impressive. When his orgasm finally starts subsiding, you reduce the output down to zero, but not turning it off.

"Still with me?"

"I...yes." It's hesitant and a bit breathless, but that's probably to be expected.

"That's good," You brush away a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead. "Look how well you did, love."

Taking a few moments you kneel between his splayed legs and pat him dry with a soft towel as you check the connections, adding some fresh gel to ensure that there are no hot spots. "By the way," you give the base of the plug a few experimental wiggles, rocking it into him a couple of times, "did I tell you my favourite thing about this machine?" Grinning at him you fiddle with the controls, changing the pattern from a slow wave to an alternating pulse, without turning it up just yet. "It's probably better if I show you I think."

When he catches on to what you're doing, he starts fighting the restraints.

"You..." As you start increasing the output he falls back against the pillows again, eyes a bit unfocused as the current bounces between his prostate and his still sensitive cock. "Oh, you cruel creature..."

"That's not very nice," you tut, stroking his thigh. Craning your neck, you can only just catch a glimpse of the base of the plug moving as he contracts around it.

"Release me," he groans, but there's no real force behind his words. Those aren't even the right words, anyway. He could end this at any time, and you both know it. Instead you slowly turn the power up, watching as his soft cock twitches and leaks all over his pale stomach.

"Too much," he gasps, thrashing and pulling on the cuffs again.

"Does it hurt?" You hover your finger over the controls, ready to cut the power just in case.

"No," he moans, face twisted in pleasure as he all but humps the air, his words coming out slurred and messy. "Keep...more."

That makes no sense, but you get the gist. Checking the settings it's still not turned up terribly high, so you kick it up a few notches more until you've got him writhing like an eel in a hot pan, completely uncaring about the pathetic sounds running from his mouth. He doesn't get hard again but that doesn't matter because he spills for you again anyway, a pitiful sound caught high in his throat. There's barely enough to fill a thimble this time around and when you finally cut the power he sinks into the bed, completely limp.

"You alright?" You quickly get to work cleaning him up, gently removing the plug and sliding the rings off his cock before undoing the cuffs, massaging his wrists as you do so. When he doesn't respond right away you almost start to worry that perhaps you'd taken it a bit too far, but then he blinks slowly up at you.

"I...believe so."

This is probably the most relaxed you've ever seen him, and you can't entirely suppress a giggle as you snuggle in close, one arm thrown across his waist.

"Good. So," you trace the curve of his hip idly, "can I ask you something?"

"If it is in my power to answer, then I shall," he murmurs, taking your hand in his and twining your fingers together.

"Okay. So..." You twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. "Is my 'fondness for lewd objects' still inexplicable to you?" As you wait for him to answer, you trail a line of small kisses from his shoulder and up the side of his neck. When he eventually responds, it's with a deep sigh.

"Perhaps not."

[northstarco]

fact checks (ft. nikolas)

❝ nikolas checks facts, and answers questions.. at three in the morning ❞

"did you break your arm again?"

nikolas chuckles mid-read, glancing down at his oddly placed right arm and shaking his head, the question makes him place a hand on his forehead. "no my arm is not broken, not yet, at least".

"how weak are your bones?— well it's not my fault that i somehow almost always manage to break something it just happens!" niko shrugs, acting like his answer wasn't the stupidest thing in the world and glancing down at the sleeping feline in his lap. "i have bad luck, don't yell at me" he mutters, as if trying to be quiet so he doesn't wake up susi.

where is that poster from?

niko narrows his eyes at the comment, turning back to the queen poster situated right above his desk. he allows for a small laugh to escape his lips as he thinks about where he got it from. "a fan handed it to me at a fansign like a year ago? i thought it was a mistake but she just let me have it.."

did you really forget your instagram password?

nikolas, ready to make an excuse, laughs again. "yes, i did, and until i figure it out again you're never getting another juno instagram update" the 96 liner doesn't seem too bothered by the news, much to the dismay of his own fans.

i didn't know you played the violin :0 that's so cool!!

"ah" niko pauses, clicking his tongue. "well mæ̀ is a violin instructor so it was one of the first instruments i learned how to play, it's not my favorite, though, the strings make my fingers hurt" he frowns slightly, looking down at his scarred fingers. "these days the scars are from my guitar, though".

do you dream in english?

the question is enough to make nikolas snicker, it baffles him that someone would ask that, but it's also too interesting to not answer. "that's such a strange thing to ask.." he snickers again, just the thought of the question alone is enough to make him laugh. "i guess so? i dream in a weird mix of english and thai, my dreams don't make any sense".

you need to write more songs hello??

the comment makes nikolas smile lightly, and he places his cheek on his fist. "i do write a lot of songs, i just trash most of them because they're.. well, not sm approved" he chuckles at his own wording, he'd explain why in more detail if he wasn't weary about his mangers watching. "most of the songs i write are about personal experiences, not general experiences".

juno solo debut when?

"never" niko mumbles, shaking his head as he un-balls his fist and places his chin onto his hand. he chuckles at his own response, watching as the comments explode into questions of why? and what do you mean? a small smile grows on his face, and he lets his face fall down. "actually i don't know, not that the company will tell me anything anyway, if they even have something planned.."

niko narrows his eyes suspiciously, staring into space as he thinks about it for a moment. "i'm not sure, maybe those songs will escape the drafts someday".

song recommendations!!

"song recommendations.." niko taps his fingers onto his desk, scouring his mind for songs he himself enjoys. "everything is everything by lauryn hill, uh.. alterlife by rina sawayama, and farewell by akmu, that's a good one".

"i feel like you'd be a good music teacher— i have no idea what that's supposed to mean! but thank you!"

why are you live at three am?

"hm.. well i can't sleep, i'm bored, and doyoungie would've killed me if i called him at three in the morning" nikolas thinks of more reasons he could give to answer that question, but as he's about to answer, he gets a notification from his phone. when he looks down at his phone, he snickers, covering his mouth with his hand. "aww, kim doyoung hates me everybody" he pouts playfully at his phone, presumably humored by a text he'd gotten from his best friend.

"let's hope he doesn't come for my soul, i can't die before rina's new album is released.. oh my god, speaking of rina—"

nikolas then goes on a rant about rina sawayama's music, much too immersed in it. it's safe to say, the viewers were very amazed by the sight of silent niko, who often sat back and let his members do the talking during group lives, running his mouth like nothing else in the world mattered.

niko's ramblings only stop when a certain question catches his eye. "i'm going to australia soon, have any snack recommendations?— oh my god you have to try tim tams, and fairy bread, and also anzac biscuits those are so good! i remember my mom sent me snacks a few weeks ago and i finally got to eat them again, i also made fairy bread a few weeks ago, it was as good as i remember it".

"what are tim tams? oh they're chocolate biscuits that usually have some sort of filling, the ones with caramel filling are the best trust me".

"go to sleep" niko blinks at the comment, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "no! you can't tell me what to do, i'm staying awake for the rest of time now that you commented that".

nikolas crosses his arms, remaining stubborn as ever.

[smokingchagga]

Throatslitter is a precious babygirl and here is why...

Some weeks ago I said that once I finished the Crippled God I would write and essay about why Throatslitter is a precious babygirl. Well. Here I am. Now THIS is the serious & interesting Malazan content that Tumblr needs more of. Honestly, this is just me gushing about how much I love this one weird little dude.

This does spoil some things about MBOTF, but not that much at the end of the day since I’m only talking about one very minor character.

So, let’s look at how his story evolves throughout each book he appears in.

House of Chains

Throatslitter does basically nothing in this book. It’s mentioned that he exists and that’s it. There is a little funny scene where Strings and Balm talk about his name though. 

Strings glanced over at another soldier from the 9th squad, a man standing nearby looking as if he wanted to kill something. ‘And what about him? What’s his name again, Throatslitter? Did his ma decide on that for her little one, do you think?’ ‘Can’t say,’ Balm replied. ‘Give a toddler a knife and who knows what’ll happen.’

The Bonehunters

The first time we properly see Throatslitter is in the Bonehunters. My first thought was, “wow, that’s a ridiculous name for a character. What a little freak.” I honestly wasn’t particularly intrigued by him by this point. But it is funny (and appropriate) that the first description we get of Throatslitter is of him laughing.

“Throatslitter hissed - what passed for laughter, Bottle supposed…”

Throatslitter also gets automatic cool points for being one of the soldiers who crawled through the bones of Y’Ghatan. He doesn’t really do many things in this book except be a murderous lil dude. His name appears in this book only 26 times but he’s neat enough for the little he gets to do. 

Reaper’s Gale

Now this is where things get fun! The first thing Throatslitter does in this book is talk about how hot Shurq Elalle is (fair enough) and then think about his freaky laugh. 

The last thing he wanted to do was break into another one of his trilling, uncanny laughs that seemed to freeze everyone within earshot. Never used to have a laugh sounding like that. Damn thing scares even me. Well, he’d taken a throatful of oily flames and it’d done bad things to his voice-reed.

Wow. That’s kinda unfortunate, isn’t it? Now let me present to you the scene that sold me on the character of Throatslitter. It’s a little long but bear with me. (Context: they are talking about Shurq Elalle)

‘Trust me,’ the corporal replied after taking a deep draught. He belched. ‘Sure, she’s hiding it well, but that woman died some time ago.’  Balm was hunched over the table, scratching at the tangles of his hair. Flakes drifted down to land like specks of paint on the dark wood. ‘Gods below,’ he whispered. ‘Maybe somebody should … I don’t know … maybe … tell her?’  Deadsmell’s mostly hairless brows lifted. ‘Excuse me, ma’am, you have a complexion to die for and I guess that’s what you did.’  Another squawk from Throatslitter.  The corporal continued, ‘Is it true, ma’am, that perfect hair and expensive make-up can hide anything?’  A choked squeal from Throatslitter.  Heads turned.  Deadsmell drank down another mouthful, warming to the subject. ‘Funny, you don’t look dead.’  The high-pitched cackle erupted.  As it died, sudden silence in the main room of the tavern, barring that of a rolling tankard, which then plunged off a tabletop and bounced on the floor.  Balm glared at Deadsmell. ‘You done that. You just kept pushing and pushing. Another word from you, corporal, and you’ll be deader than she is.’  ‘What’s that smell?’ Deadsmell asked. ‘Oh right. Essence of putrescence.’  Balm’s cheeks bulged, his face turning a strange purple shade. His yellowy eyes looked moments from leaping out on their stalks.  Throatslitter tried squeezing his own eyes shut, but the image of his sergeant’s face burst into his mind. He shrieked behind his hands. Looked round in helpless appeal.  All attention was fixed on them now, no-one speaking. Even the beautiful woman who’d shipped in with that maimed oaf and the oaf himself – whose one good eye glittered out from the folds of a severe frown – had paused, standing each to one side of the cask of ale the tavernkeeper had brought out. And the keeper himself, staring at Throatslitter with mouth hanging open. ‘Well,’ Deadsmell observed, ‘there goes our credit as bad boys. Throaty here’s making mating calls – hope there’s no turkeys on this island. And you, sergeant, your head looks ready to explode like a cusser.’

Oh my god. This poor babygirl. Can’t a man laugh without being judged? And Deadsmell called him “Throaty”! Throaty. What a fucking nickname. It perfectly encapsulates his babygirlness. I’m convinced that Deadsmell secretly loves hearing Throaty’s laughter. 

And then we get Throatslitter’s backstory! He recalls his father’s story about the day Kellanved and his Logros T’lan Imass took over Li Heng. His father’s story shows lil baby Throaty just how formidable Kellanved was. All of that and then for Kellanved to die by being stabbed in the back. Throaty realizes that a single person with a knife is enough to change the world.

Command the T’lan Imass didn’t stop the knife in the back, did it? This detail was the defining revelation of Throatslitter’s life. Command thousands, tens of thousands. Command sorcerors and imperial fleets. Hold in your hand the lives of a million citizens. The real power was none of this. The real power was the knife in the hand, the hand at the fool’s back. 

Throatslitter’s father makes and paints pots for a living. He has no respect for his father’s profession because of how fragile pots are. His father will never leave a mark in the world and that’s not the type of life Throatslitter wants for himself.

Eldest son or not, mixing glazes and circling a kiln on firing day was no the future he dreamed about. But you can paint me, Father, and call it ‘The Coming of the Assassin’. My likeness to adorn funeral urns - those who fell to the knife, of course. Too bad you never understood the world well enough to honour me. My chosen profession. My war against inequity in this miserable, evil existence. And striking my name from the family line, well now, really, that was uncalled for.

And then this guy goes out and joins the Talons! I think it’s quite impressive that he manage to evade Surly’s culling of the Talons where his senior Talons didn’t (or most of them anyway).

I also really like the fact that he (unlike many others) is completely down with Tavore’s speech about them being unwitnessed. Most of the soldiers can’t stand the idea that their sacrifice won’t be appreciated but Throatslitter genuinely doesn’t seem to mind. 

Still, the Adjunct has asked for loyalty. For service to an unknown cause. We are to be unwitnessed, she said. That suits me fine. It’s how assassins conduct their trade.

Unwitnessed. Most soldiers don’t like that idea. True, it made them hard - when she told them - but that fierceness can’t last. The iron is too cold. Its taste too bitter.

Throatslitter’s POV in Reaper’s Gale chapter 14 is very neat in my humble Throaty simp opinion. The guy spends the entire time judging the people around him. This POV shows that the guy is not a complete idiot (especially for a minor background character). Gods, I love the fact that Erikson gives us these small bits from the POVs of random, mostly inconsequential characters. I know some people dislike it and think it drags the story down but I disagree. I think it brings a lot of life to the army and its different squads. 

Shurq correctly judges Throatslitter’s character  and comes to the conclusion that he’s a little fucked up bloodthirsty freak. 

Throatslitter, who sat opposite Shurq, now cleared his throat - producing an odd squeak - and smiled across at her. She looked away, pointedly. That man was not a nice man. The way Gerun Eberict hadn’t been a nice man. Took too much pleasure in his job, she suspected. And even for a soldier, that wasn’t sensible. People like that tended to linger when lingering wasn’t good. Tended to put other soldiers at risk. Tended to get carried away. No, she didn’t like Throatslitter. 

And Throatslitter appreciates how much of a snack Masan Gilani is! Just look at this little bit from chapter 24.

Ahead, Masan Gilani did that unthinkable thing again and rose in her stirrups, leaning forward as she urged her horse into a gallop. From behind Balm, Throatslitter moaned like a puppy under a brick.

Same, Throaty, same. 

Dust of Dreams

Throatslitter is a nosy dude. He eavesdrops on the sergeant’s meeting. What a greedy little delinquent. 

He cursed himself for being so damned nosy. He spied to feed his curiosity and - he had to admit - to give himself an advantage on his fellow soldiers, reason for his sly expression and sardonic, knowing smile, and a man like him wasn’t satisfied if it was all just for show. 

Later on in the book he threatens to murder Deadsmell for cheating in a game of toughs which was amusing. That’s legit the only thing that happens in that scene. The boys are playing a nice game of troughs and then Throatslitter starts threatening the shit out of Deadsmell. Oh and then he lunges at Ebron when he finds out that he also magicked the game. The babygirl has gone feral. It’s such a useless scene and I love it. 

‘Deadsmell, might be it’s a  safe thing to be magicking the casts and whatnot, so long as you’re playing nitwits or fellow spooks or both. But, see, I’m Throatslitter, remember? I kill people for a living, in ways no reasonable, sane soldier could hope to imagine. Am I getting through here? You bring your talents to this game, maybe so will I.’

Just look at how bloodthirsty he is! What a babygirl. 

A tiny interaction that made me smile:

‘Never mind Hood,’ snapped Widdershins. ‘Wasn’t him made me wet my trousers.’ Balm stared with huge eyes. ‘Did you really? Gods below.’ Throatslitter burst out a sudden, piping laugh. Then ducked. ‘Sorry. Just… well, never mind.’

And then comes the scene where Throatslitter keeps laughing, making the whole army uncomfortable. I swear, I love these Malazans but holy shit can’t a murderous babygirl laugh in peace?

Another piping laugh from Throatslitter. Cuttle scowled. ‘What’s so fucking funny?’ Corabb had been sleeping, or pretending to sleep, and now he sat up. ‘I’ll go find out, Cuttle. It’s getting on my nerves too.’ ‘If he’s being a bastard, Corabb, punch his face in.’

Throaty and his pals are cackling about these weird brainless greasy magic rats. It’s kinda fucked up actually.

‘So, Throatslitter, they stopped being funny?’ ‘Aye, now go.’ ‘Cos if I hear another laugh, I ain’t coming back to talk.’ ‘It’s just a laugh, Corabb. People got ‘em, right? All kinds-’ ‘But yours makes the skin crawl.’ ‘Good, since it’s how I sound when I slit some bastard’s useless throat.’

Look, I love Corabb as much as the next person, but damn. I will not tolerate this disrespect to my boy Throatslitter. On a side note, I would love to see how a live action adaptation would execute Throaty’s fucked up laugh. I imagine him sounding a bit like that one hyena (Ed) from the Lion King, just more fucked.

The Crippled God

So, Throatslitter’s throat got messed up even further in the battle of the Nah’ruk at the end of DoD. Poor dude. He just can’t catch a break. Anyway, Deadsmell makes a funny joke. In fact, most of Throatslitter’s scenes in this book are just his squad making him laugh. There are so many little scenes where people just make him laugh. It’s quite wholesome actually.

Widdershins crowded up behind Throatslitter, Deadsmell and the sergeant. ‘Did any of you hear Bottle back there? That stuff about our name?’ Throatslitter scowled. ‘What?’ ‘He was asking about how we got our name.’ ‘So?’ ‘So, I just think… well… I think it’s important. I think Bottle knows something, but he’s keeping it quiet-’ ‘Bottled up?’ Deadsmell asked. Throatslitter’s high-pitched laugh triggered curses up and down the line. The assassin hissed under his breath. ‘Sorry, that just came out.’ ‘So give him a shake, Wid,’ pressed Deadsmell, ‘until it all gushes out. He’s got a cork somewhere, go and find it.’ Throatslitter snorted, and then choked as he held down another squeal.

What really gets me is what Badan Gruk says about Throatslitter afterward. I just think it’s amusing that Badan Gruk immediately thinks the worst of Throatslitter when in truth Throaty is just laughing at puns about Bottle’s name. What a dork.

Sinter winced at the cry behind them. ‘Gods, I wish he’d stop doing that.’ ‘Nothing very funny about this,’ Badan Gruk agreed. ��But then it’s Throatslitter, isn’t it? That man would laugh over his dying sister.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t get people like him. Taking pleasure in misery, in torture, all that. What’s to laugh about? Talk about a messed-up mind.’

God forbid a man have a little fun around here.

Helian is absolutely hilarious.

‘Hear that?’ she aksed. ‘That was a damned hyena.’ ‘That was Throatslitter, Sergeant.’ ‘He killed a hyena? Good for him.’

Throatslitter gets shot in the ass in this book when the army is going through a little bit of a mutiny (thanks Blistig). So that’s unfortunate. And in this scene his squad start calling him “Throat”. Fucking THROAT. Oh my god. It’s so goofy. 

So. Now we come to a scene that actually made me tear up. It’s the bit where the Bonehunters split off and Fiddler leads the marines to their final battle. The plot is finally coming to an end and soon it’s time to say goodbye. Deadsmell has some thoughts about everything and it really got me in the feelz. 

Deadsmell didn’t want to say goodbye, not to anyone. Not even Throatslitter limping one row ahead of him, whom with a choice comment or two he could make yelp that laugh - like squeezing a duck. Always entertaining, seeing people flinch on hearing it. And Deadsmell could do it over and over again. It’d been a while since he’d last heard it, but now was not the time - not with all these regulars on either side. All these men and women saying goodbye to us. The Bonehunters were in their last days. This tortured army could finally see the end of things - and it seemed to have come up on them fast, unexpected, appalling close.

Back home - in the Empire - we’re already lost. Just one more army struck off the ledgers. And this is how things must pass, how things simply go away. We’ve gone and marched ourselves off the edge of the world. I don’t want to say goodbye. And I want to hear Throatslitter’s manic laugh. I want to hear it again and again, and for ever more.

Man, I don’t wanna say goodbye either! We’ve spent the whole book squeezing out cackles from Throaty and now we’re nearing the end of  the road. Goddamit. This scene hit me hard. The scenes where Throatslitter’s buddies made him laugh were some of my favorite moments of levity in this book. And now it’s ending. This book hits like a fucking brick in the face. 

This scene doesn’t directly describe Throatslitter but we know he’s involved. The marines have just halted another charge of the Korerlii. Only 20 or so of them remain to protect the Crippled God. 

Someone coughed nearby, from some huddle of stones, and then spoke. ‘So, who are we fighting for again?’ Fiddler could not place the voice. Nor the one that replied, ‘Everyone.’ A long pause, and then, ‘No wonder we’re losing.’ Six, a dozen heartbeats, before someone snorted. A rumbling laugh followed, and then someone else burst out in a howl of mirth - and all at once, from the dark places among the rocks of this barrow, laughter burgeoned, rolled round, bounced and echoed. 

And so the story of Throatslitter ends in one more burst of laughter. And he’s not laughing alone, making others uncomfortable. No, instead all of the remaining marines laugh together. No wonder those Korerlii got intimidated with Throaty and the rest cackling like maniacs. I don’t know how to put into words just how perfect this moment was. 

Malazan is amazing at making me get attached to minor characters and then using them to emotionally torment me. I get that Throatslitter is minor enough that he doesn’t matter to the plot. He’s not the deepest, most complex character out there but he’s my precious little freak. He’s just a boodthirsty babygirl with a fucked up laugh and I love him for it. 

[nik-840]

Lucifer x Gn Reader

Description: The reader is an Angle that used to be Lucifer's lover. However due to God intervening the couple no longer remember each other

Word Count: 2,620

Long ago just before the great war, God created a string of new Angels, just a handful. They were unrelated to God’s other children. They were created by him, yes but they were not children of the Goddes or children at all really. They were meant to be soldiers and soldiers only. But there is always a calm before a storm and in this calm two angels fell in love, the light bringer and his favorite star.

God could see everything or just about everything. He could see how Lucifer’s love for you overshadowed everything else. He saw that this would lead to Lucifer’s ultimate betrayal. If only he could see how his actions played a role in all this.

God decides to kick you out of heaven technically making you the first to fall. Except you didn't go to hell, you fell to earth lost and confused. This is the final straw for Lucifer and the war is waged. Once it's over the memory of Lucifer’s lover is erased from the minds of everyone who knew them. 

When you fell you lost your wings and with them, went your ability to remember not just the days in Eden but also the lifetimes spent walking the Earth alone. You wander for millennials never quite sure what's missing until you find him again in a city called Los Angeles.

The memories don’t come back for either of you when you find him again. But you become close and you just hold on to him. It doesn’t take long for you to realize you are in love with him but he was occupied with Chole. You didn’t want to say that you hated Chole but you strongly disliked her.

It had been a month or so since Lucifer revealed the truth to her. She was a wreck and ran off to Europe. She hadn’t even been back for a week and you had already noticed how it was affecting Lucifer. He was in more distress now than he had been the whole time she was gone. You were already tired of her. Lucifer would never say anything about it; he's too worried about her opinion of him. You on the other hand couldn't give two shits what she thought of you. You had a bone to pick with her so you showed up on her doorstep. 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” She looked completely dismayed.

“Excuse me?”

“You've been treating Lucifer like shit since you got back from your stupid trip.” She stuttered for a while trying to come up with a good reason. “Don't lie Decker you ran off to Europe for space or whatever. But now you're back and you're acting like he's harmed you.” 

“I've been going through a lot this isn't easy for me. Would it make me crazy if I was scared of him? I mean Lucifer, he's dangerous.”

“ Of course, he’s fucking dangerous he's the devil who cares?”

“What?”

“You're not the only human who's in on the secret Chloe but you are the only one who reacted like this. I've known for way longer than you and I've never been scared and it's not because I'm blind to the fact that he could hurt me or others. I'm not scared because he's never given me a reason to be. I know he won't hurt me because all he's ever done is protect me and you for that matter. He's powerful but I know he would never hurt an innocent person. Being scared of him might not make you crazy but it definitely makes you weak.”

All she does is stare and stutter as tears start to build up in her eyes. 

“Listen you need to get your shit together or break it off. Pretending that you care while you won't let Trixie see Maze and jump when Lucifer touches you is just sick. Make a decision or I’ll make it for you.”

You weren't waiting on a response so you just walked off and got in your car you had nothing else to say to Chole Decker. Plus there was someone who needed your attention back at Lux. When you get there the first person you see is Maze whose apparently been looking for you. 

“Where’ve you been all night your missing the party.”

 “Oh you know just out I had to make a stop off on my way here.”

 “Oh?” She looked mildly interested hoping it was something exciting. 

 “Yeah, nothing interesting I just had to talk to someone. Don't worry about that where’s Lucifer?” 

“He's upstairs sulking that's all he does these days.” She’s annoyed she and lucifer are dealing with Chole’s bullshit very differently, she doesn't understand him. You head upstairs and there he is, sitting at the piano playing some melancholy tune you don't recognize. You pour a drink for the both of you and set his down on the piano. You sit with him listening as the song flows out from the piano. You lean your head on his shoulder when the song ends and slide his drink just a bit closer to him. 

“Drink, Luci?”

 “Thank you.”

“You look a mess.”

“Why thank you Y/N as charming as ever.”

“Seriously though I know things have been rough lately but playing sad piano in the dark and not changing your clothes for days will not help. I'm not saying you have to go party I’m not even saying you have to leave your room. I’m just saying maybe take a shower.” He's about to say something stupid to get you off his back. “Listen if you shower ill do everything else, get you ready for bed, comb your hair, I’ll even pick out your suit for tomorrow, ok just shower you smell.”

He doesn't even say anything, just gets up and heads towards the bedroom slowly stripping. 

In his closet, you go through his wardrobe and pick out a suit for him. But not just any suit, it was your favorite. Something about Lucifer in this was just top-notch. When you're done with that you get everything ready for bed 

You sit at the edge of his bed waiting. You scroll through Twitter, TikTok, and then Tumblr. You were pretty sure he was just standing under the water but that’s ok 

When he comes out he’s wearing just a pair of skin-tight black boxers. He collapses into bed beside you. You move so you’re sitting next to his head and run your fingers through his hair.

“I bet that feels better.”

“Thank you.” He says as he moves his head to rest on your lap. 

“Oh don't get all mushy on me, Luci.”

“No I’m serious, Thank you.” 

“Whatever.” You run your fingers through his hair and scratch his head till he goes to sleep. You usually only slept over at the penthouse when Lucifer thought you weren’t able to get home safely. But you didn’t feel like going home today, not when you had Lucifer on your lap snoring softly plus it was like two in the morning. So you shifted around getting comfortable and Lucifer just followed your body heat while grumbling. 

When you wake up again it’s to a phone call from your best friend and roommate. You immediately realize your mistake. You get out of bed as quickly as possible without waking Lucifer. You answer the phone on the other.

“Before you start I'm sorry I didn't mean to sleep over or to fall asleep without checking in.”

“Mhm hmm, you always say the same thing I figured you were with him so I texted maze and she confirmed. That's not why I called.”

“Oh ok, what's up then?”

“You tell me I thought you said you weren't going to sleep over there anymore because it made you feel like you two were closer than you are.”

“I know what I said It's just he was so sad and I couldn't leave him like that.”

“Y/n-”

“Don't! I know what you're going to say ‘it's not my job to take care of him, especially not when it comes at the cost of my peace. But I'm not at peace when he's sad, I just want so desperately for him to be happy.” There's a beat of silence as you think. “I could let him go if that's what it took but she treats him like shit. I know I probably just sound like some jealous idiot but he spends so much time worrying about if she'll turn her back on him and he deserves so much more than that.”

“I understand just remember to take care of yourself too. And text me when you're not coming home asshole.” You laugh for a moment thankful for the change in conversation. 

“Again I'm sorry and I will next time I promise. I'll see you later.” You say your goodbyes and hang up.

You take a couple of deep breaths before heading back upstairs to find Lucifer awake in bed.

“Where did you run off to?” He asks just as you step into the bedroom. 

“Just downstairs I had to take a call and I didn't want to wake you.” You sit at the end of the bed. “Anyway, what do you want to do today? We could be responsible adults and do something productive or we could get high out if our minds order food and watch Alice in Wonderland.” You start smirking before you even finish the sentence knowing exactly which option he's going to choose.

After the first blunt, you were starting to feel it and words started falling out of your mouth.

“You know that I care about you right? You, Maze, and Ash are all I have all I've ever had.” You don’t know why you asked him that because you didn't even let him answer you just started the movie you pulled up before. 

You honestly don't remember watching the movie. It felt like you blinked and then the credits were rolling. It didn't matter though you and Lucifer had split two blunts and you felt amazing. At some point, Maze showed up and she and Lucifer continued to smoke long after you had tapped out. The day was blissful for obvious reasons you even remembered to text your roommate before you passed out on the couch. 

~~~~

You guessed that something changed between Chole and Lucifer because he was back to going on cases with her. You hoped that she finally pulled her head out of her ass but you for some reason doubted that. You had gotten out of work early and just went back to your apartment to hang with your roommate. You guys had started a show together about a week ago and then you both got super busy. You had gotten through a couple of episodes when you got an SOS from Maze. Chole had fucked up big this time though you couldn’t imagine what could possibly be worse than the way she had already been acting. Nothing could have prepared you for what you found out.

He didn't even yell, he just explained what happened while sipping on his drink. You could tell he was a few drinks in and he looked a mess. You could see why though. Chole had been going behind his back working with a priest if you could even call him that. She had intended on banishing Lucifer back to hell. The betrayal was truly unbelievable. You didn’t know you had to comfort what could you say that could ease that kind of pain? You guessed you would just love him through it. Through all of it. 

Eventually, Lucifer gets bored of drinking and just goes to bed you didn’t want to leave so you just go sleep on the couch. The next morning you woke up and made Lucifer breakfast in bed you just wanted to remind him that he was deserving of love. He had barely spoken since he woke but just as he finishes eating he asks you a question. 

“Why did you stay?”

“What do you mean?”

“After you saw my face.”

“I don't know I guess I've spent my whole life alone and empty. When we met I felt that for the first time in my life I wasn't alone. So losing that over you being exactly who you said you were just felt stupid.”

“But what about me makes you feel that way? Why me?”

“I don’t know Luci, does it matter? All I know is that you make me feel warm and safe.”

“I make you feel safe?”

“I mean yeah are you surprised all you've done since we met is take care of me and encourage me to do the same for myself?”

He just stares at you sort of shellshocked which is so confusing to you because what did he think was happening here? Did he genuinely think that this entire time you were scared of him deep down? How could he think that? How could you be scared of this man you loved him with every fiber of your being. The thought brought you so much pain you just pulled him closer from where he was sitting on the bed. He was basically sitting in your lap now and you held him tight to your chest and he curled up to you.

You lean down and kiss the top of his head. You get that feeling that you sometimes get when you are with him. A strange sense of deja vu like you've done this before comforted him, held him close, kissed him. Sometimes you get these flashes almost like memories but they always disappear before you can fully understand what they are. You always just hold Lucifer a little tighter in those moments. 

At some point, Lucifer crawls out of your lap and puts on a random movie for the two of you to watch. Neither of you is really paying attention though. You feel his eyes on you for a while before you say anything. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He doesn’t say anything, he looks at you and makes eye contact before slowly leaning in. After a moment of thought, you lean in too. The kiss isn’t much just a soft press of lips but the feeling that runs through you forcing a gasp from your lips.

Memories flood into your mind so quickly that you can’t even decipher them. Tears start to flow from your eyes. Lucifer is stunned and confused but then shock falls over his face and calls your name. 

“You… you have wings.” You just stare at him as you try to sort through the memories. It seems that Lucifer’s memory begins to come back as well. 

He reaches out to cup you’re face and runs his thumb over your cheek. His old name falls off your lips “Samael.” The name makes him uncomfortable and he expresses that much to you asking you to just call him Lucifer. You lean in again and kiss his cheek and whisper “Of course, my love.” This immediately brings back the tenderness of the moment. 

The memories of before wrap around you like a warm well-loved blanket. All you want is to be as close to him as possible. All the centuries spent apart so cold and alone you just needed to keep him close. You pull him into another kiss and your wings wrap around him pulling him as close as possible. He chuckled “Missed me did you?” He said it as a joke but you knew he wanted a real answer. 

“Every day Lucifer. Every day even when I couldn’t remember.”

[sheriffsolidarity]

I like to play with my toys carefully, wouldn't want to break them after all but you are impossible Jimmy. :)

Joel looms over Jimmy grabbing the short man by his shirt and pulling him off his feet into the air. He smiles as if it were all still a game... its not, and he knows its not fun. It's not meant to be anymore. His hands glow as he wraps one around his chest and the other around his middle. Jimmy wouldn't break, well, he wouldn't break irreparably. What can only be compared to thorns digging into his skin. Growing into his skin. Digging into his muscles, his muscles that aren't muscle anymore, that are plush. He can feel as the thorny magic grip pulls, pulls his upper half from his lower. Rips. Blood drips out as the fabric replacing his skin pulling and stretching, the fabric snapping threads as cartoonish plush organs hit the ground with a wet slap. Almost comical. Joel drops him once he's pulled him apart. He's fully alive, fully conscious. He could see Joel staring down at him, split in half like a discarded doll torn apart by a child's dog.

How are you feeling sheriff?

Strong?

Human?

haha :)

-@the-god-ever

Jimmy shouts as he's lifted into the air- not words, just screaming and pleading to put him down, please don't hurt him, please-

It falls on deaf ears, and he screams as he's torn apart.

It's not quick- it takes a minute or two of helpless pleading and screaming for Joel to stop before he's incapacitated from the pain.

He blacks out a few times, flashes of consciousness between agony and bright light obscuring his vision-

(flesh turning to fabric claws sinking in and oh god, it hurts it hurts it hurts he's torn apart the string tendons stretching before they snap his thin fabric skin fraying and bleeding and as his organs fall to the ground, streching between his halved body, live blood staining dead fabric and he wonders, in the haze of pain, if the blood leaving him shows he's living or dying-)

And chokes on his own screams and vomit as the pain increases, nausea caused by a cocktail of fear pain and rage-

(he feels the bile rising as Joel's hands squeeze him tight, but his cloth lungs are held to tightly in joels hands and the vomit is blocking his throat and he cant breath as he pukes his guts up- he stops when the organs needed to vomit are no longer attached to his person, and is too overwhelmed to hate himself for the slight relief of being able to breath again-)

And hits the ground with a thud and a broken sob.

He's hazy- the pain (like thorns of magic growing in and tearing soft fabric and he misses his flesh and bones, he misses it he hates the only warmth this form he refuses to call his own is the quickly cooling blood pooling around him.) overwhelming him.

Eventually, though, he's aware enough to process Joel's words.

"Y-You're a monster," He chokes out, voice hoarse and dry from screaming. He's... not actually sure how he's talking- he doesn't have the functioning lungs to do so.

With Joel's hands now gone, the glowing light no longer obscuring his vision, he looks down.

(If he were still human, he'd sob. But the tears get absorbed by the fabric before he can make a sound.)

His broken body, strewn across the ground, is a horror. Fabric is torn around his mid torso- the ends of it stretched from the force it took to break.

Blood stains the majority of his fabric-flesh, and he can still feel his legs- he can't move them, but he can feel the wetness of the fabric.

He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and discovers he is not able to close his eyes to avoid the horror of his own form. Instead, he looks angrily at Joel.

"Y-You- You're evil." He says again.

[whisperthatruns]

Jail Poems

1

I am sitting in a cell with a view of evil parallels, Waiting thunder to splinter me into a thousand me's. It is not enough to be in one cage with one self; I want to sit opposite every prisoner in every hole. Doors roll and bang, every slam a finality, bang! The junkie disappeared into a red noise, stoning out his hell. The odored wino congratulates himself on not smoking, Fingerprints left lying on black inky gravestones, Noises of pain seeping through steel walls crashing Reach my own hurt. I become part of someone forever. Wild accents of criminals are sweeter to me than hum of cops, Busy battening down hatches of human souls; cargo Destined for ports of accusations, harbors of guilt. What do policemen eat, Socrates, still prisoner, old one?

2

Painter, paint me a crazy jail, mad water-color cells. Poet, how old is suffering? Write it in yellow lead. God, make me a sky on my glass ceiling. I need stars now, To lead through this atmosphere of shrieks and private hells, Entrances and exits, in . . . out . . . up . . . down, the civic seesaw. Here — me — now — always here somehow.

3

In a universe of cells—who is not in jail? Jailers. In a world of hospitals—who is not sick? Doctors. A golden sardine is swimming in my head. Oh we know some things, man, about some things Like jazz and jails and God. Saturday is a good day to go to jail.

4

Now they give a new form, quivering jelly-like, That proves any boy can be president of Muscatel. They are mad at him because he's one of Them. Gray-speckled unplanned nakedness; stinking Fingers grasping toilet bowl. Mr. America wants to bathe. Look! On the floor, lying across America's face— A real movie star featured in a million newsreels. What am I doing—feeling compassion? When he comes out of it, he will help kill me. He probably hates living.

5

Nuts, skin bolts, clanking in his stomach, scrambled. His society's gone to pieces in his belly, bloated. See the great American windmill, tilting at itself, Good solid stock, the kind that made America drunk. Success written all over his street-streaked ass. Successful-type success, forty home runs in one inning. Stop suffering, Jack, you can't fool us. We know. This is the greatest country in the world, ain't it? He didn't make it. Wino in Cell 3.

6

There have been too many years in this short span of mine. My soul demands a cave of its own, like the Jain god; Yet I must make it go on, hard like jazz, glowing In this dark plastic jungle, land of long night, chilled. My navel is a button to push when I want inside out. Am I not more than a mass of entrails and rough tissue? Must I break my bones? Drink my wine-diluted blood? Should I dredge old sadness from my chest? Not again, All those ancient balls of fire, hotly swallowed, let them lie. Let me spit breath mists of introspection, bits of me, So that when I am gone, I shall be in the air.

7

Someone whom I am is no one. Something I have done is nothing. Someplace I have been is nowhere. I am not me. What of the answers I must find questions for? All these strange streets I must find cities for, Thank God for beatniks.

8

All night the stink of rotting people, Fumes rising from pyres of live men, Fill my nose with gassy disgust, Drown my exposed eyes in tears.

9

Traveling God salesmen, bursting my ear drum With the dullest part of a good sexy book, Impatient for Monday and adding machines.

10

Yellow-eyed dogs whistling in evening.

11

The baby came to jail today.

12

One more day to hell, filled with floating glands.

13

The jail, a huge hollow metal cube Hanging from the moon by a silver chain. Someday Johnny Appleseed is going to chop it down.

14

Three long strings of light Braided into a ray.

15

I am apprehensive about my future; My past has turned its back on me.

16

Shadows I see, forming on the wall, Pictures of desires protected from my own eyes.

17

After spending all night constructing a dream, Morning came and blinded me with light. Now I seek among mountains of crushed eggshells For the God damned dream I never wanted.

18

Sitting here writing things on paper, Instead of sticking the pencil into the air.

19

The Battle of Monumental Failures raging, Both hoping for a good clean loss.

20

Now I see the night, silently overwhelming day.

21

Caught in imaginary webs of conscience, I weep over my acts, yet believe.

22

Cities should be built on one side of the street.

23

People who can't cast shadows Never die of freckles.

24

The end always comes last.

25

We sat at a corner table, Devouring each other word by word, Until nothing was left, repulsive skeletons.

26

I sit here writing, not daring to stop, For fear of seeing what's outside my head.

27

There, Jesus, didn't hurt a bit, did it?

28

I am afraid to follow my flesh over those narrow Wide hard soft female beds, but I do.

29

Link by link, we forged the chain. Then, discovering the end around our necks, We bugged out.

30

I have never seen a wild poetic loaf of bread, But if I did, I would eat it, crust and all.

31

From how many years away does a baby come?

32

Universality, duality, totality . . . .one.

33

The defective on the floor, mumbling, Was once a man who shouted across tables.

34

Come, help flatten a raindrop.

Written in San Francisco City Prison Cell 3, 1959

Bob Kaufman (1925--1986), Collected Poems of Bob Kaufman (City Lights Books, 2019)

[geometricalien]

Romance Snippet Game!

I've been tagged by @ultfreakme a long ass time ago but I'm finally getting around to this. I've got 3 current wips to draw from but they are all the same ship so I'll just throw them all here anyways!

rules: share a few lines or a snippet that sums up the main relationship(s) in your wip

Things That Hold Us Together: Steel Bolts and Tender Hearts - (android/technician)

There must be some invisible field that Akashi is able to tap into, something of pure energy that connects to the electricity and internet and- and who knows what else- that makes him the epicenter and able to to control everything with a single synapse in their neural network… Kouki has never heard of such a thing, let alone any theory that alludes to this. It’s… it’s amazing, world altering tech. He feels like a man first encountering fire.

He harshly swallows down the wonder choking him. “Oh.”

Akashi’s eyes stop sparking and the technology returns to normal with the suddenness of gravity being turned back on. The apartment feels much smaller and cramped than before. It’s drab. He hates it.

εὐήλιος - (greek wip act 2)

(theres so many scrapped snippets that fit this, I'll share some of my favorites)

(this is from before I decided to switch povs)

He turns to Kouki, standing on his right as always. His love looked similarly distressed based on his clenched jaw and his fidgeting fingers.

And then there is the other problem with leaving.

He would be discarding his fate. Throwing away the stars and the moon. Abandoning all that he believed in, all that pulled him through life. His name was to be etched into history.

Could he forget what the gods had promised him?

They already blessed him with Kouki. They were entwined in the stars long before either was born. Seijuurou would be spitting on his fate, on the wondrous gift he is.

The man is the best part of his life. -----

“Good.” He purrs, lifting their hands to his mouth and presses light kisses into Kouki’s hand, each a promise of devotion.

Approval from Seijuurou always made him a tad dizzy which only increased when his sly mouth drew in a finger. The enveloping wet heat did nothing to stop the haze his mind easily slipped into. After all, Seijuurou is excellent with his tongue in more ways than one.

“You’ve gotten quite skilled at th-that.” His voice breaks at the sharp suck pulling him deeper into the cavernous warmth.

Seijuurou is unhurried as if they have all the time in the world. Every curl is an act of worship, and he would be worried about the obvious impiety Seijuurou is displaying if it didn’t feel so damn good. He knows what it feels like to have those pink lips wrapped around his length. To have songs of praise bitten into his skin. Seijuurou has loved him softly, roughly, frantically, savoring- in every conceivable way he has been worshiped. -----

He takes hold of Kouki’s hand and draws patterns into his palm. The little soothing action helps ground Kouki when he feels particularly anxious, and a little part of him thinks it helps calm Seijuurou too. As well as being practical it is endlessly endearing to Kouki. When he focuses on the shapes traced he often pieces the phrase “I love you” written over and over. How many times has he borne that phrase into his skin? Has it seeped into the muscle and bone?

trust me, trust me, darling dear - (horror oneshot)

As a child he had a favorite blanket. Blue and the softest material you’d ever feel, made of wishes and dreams. He thinks it was a gift from a relative, maybe his grandmother? He’s not sure. It has been by his side since he can remember. In stormy shadow filled nights and the first thing he stuffed in his backpack for preschool. A comfort object, that’s what they called it.

And he remembers how much he wailed when his mother took the worn, ragged blanket from his thin child arms when it needed to be washed. How he clung to the long spider-like strings digging into his tender skin leaving angry red and white marks.

His mother would scold him as he sat in front of the washer, waiting. “You have to be more careful or soon there will be nothing left of it.”

Listening to the wet slosh of soapy water he never understood why loving something made it break, made it fall apart at the seams. After all, his mother’s love and gentle kiss could heal any pain. What made his so… rotten?

Standing now infront of his mirror, feeling the phantom shadow arms reach for him- around him- pulling him into the inky black mass reflected in the mirror- being grabbed by the force before him, pushed beneath their will and his grasp on reality slips away- Kouki finally understands what she meant.

I got terminal akafuri brainrot but we knew this :3

[starligtgalaxy]

Chapter 15: a bone chilling encounter

The group stands on Sandy's boat by the dock. Seeing the chaos from afar as the huge spider mech storms through the city.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go!" Tang yells.

''What about (Y/n)?" Mei asks, concerned about her friend.

Pigsy pulls up the anchor "She'll be fine as long as she stays inside" he answers.

Sandy activates the launch sequence. Tang leans over the edge of the boat "Trying to get away from the spiders and we're in the middle of the o—"

He cuts himself off as lightning struck, revealing the thousand of spider bots' eyes.

"-cean?"

"Sandy!?"

"Hold on!" Sandy yells, looking through his stuff. Till he finds a remote with a cat on it.

He runs to deck, holding it up "found it!"He presses the button, making a loud meow sound.

From nearby, a drone launches up from the ground and flies towards them.Sandy grabs the three and throw them on it before jumping himself.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Qi jumps from roof to roof, using his staff. He stops at one where he got a good view of the recked city.

"God, spiders" He shivers, "Where could she..."

He trails off.

A familiar building catches his eyes, contemplating if he would check there.

'It's worth a try checking'

He continues jumping roofs, trying to stay out of sight. He jumps off a nearby building and sneaks up the fire escape. He lifts up the window and slips in.

It wasn't too different. All his Monkie king merch had dissapeared and all his dirty dishes and clothes were cleaned up.

No (Y/n) in sight.

He walks over the six boxes that were put on eachother as a piramid. Opening the top one, he pulls out his old T-shirt.

He frowns at the old memories.

He places the shirt back in the box and closes it. The brunette turns to the bed, there was a yellow rose in a vase.

He looks down to see a ripped up red fabric with some black hair on it. His face turns to confusion as picks it up.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

"It's a shame, really. You being trapped here. No one to protect poor little Princess Iron Fan" Monkey king says, his and other Demon's energy having almost sucked away by the webs.

"My wife doesn't need protecting! She will decimate all in her way!" Demon Bull King yells, fighting against his retrains. Making the webs begin to tear.

"Oh yeah? How about your half-baked son? Spider Queen's gonna eat him alive all because you were too weak" Monkie king continues to taunt.

That seem to do the trick as DBK Burst through the webs, making the caccoons of other Demon's loose.

"Hah! It worked! Excellent!" Wukong exclaims before being grabbed and slammed into wall by the DBK.

"Buddy! I was just getting you angry so you can—" Monkey King tries to explain himself.

"I know what you were doing, simian!" DBK yells, ripping of the monkey's webs. Before storming off.

"Wait. Where are you going?"

"To find my half-baked s..." DBK chokes on his own words "son.."

He goes through the metal wall, leaving a big hole behind.

Monkey King was about to leave himself but remembers about the girl who was stil hanging from the ceiling.

Taking a second to decide if he was gonna go off to defeat Spider first or stopping to help the (h/n)nette.

Making his decision, he turns around. He jumps up and breaks the single string holding her up.

The previous sleeping girl wakes up when she feel herself falling. Wukong lands back on the ground and catches her, putting her back her feet.

"Woah- oh, thanks" she chimes, with an awkward smile.

Monkey King pauses "It's no problem. I need to go, to save the city, you know?"

And with that, he jumps off through the hole.

(Y/n) was about to follow soot when a shiver rides up her spine. When she turns around with a young girl.

"You-"

"Are not a regular girl. You know, you're quite oblivious" she says with her cold voice.

The air feels tense and cold. (Y/n) could almost see her own breath.

"Who...what are you?" (Y/n) questions, growing anxious.

"You should stay out of things you don't belong in"

(Y/n) clutches her head in pain as she feel a stabbing headache along with flashes of a skull flashes in her head.

She falls to her kneels, breathing heavely.

The girl dissapears in a gust of smoke, (Y/n)'s headache dissapears aswell.

[manwalksintobar]

Jail Poems // Bob Kaufman

1

I am sitting in a cell with a view of evil parallels, Waiting thunder to splinter me into a thousand me's. It is not enough to be in one cage with one self; I want to sit opposite every prisoner in every hole. Doors roll and bang, every slam a finality, bang! The junkie disappeared into a red noise, stoning out his hell. The odored wino congratulates himself on not smoking, Fingerprints left lying on black inky gravestones, Noises of pain seeping through steel walls crashing Reach my own hurt. I become part of someone forever. Wild accents of criminals are sweeter to me than hum of cops, Busy battening down hatches of human souls; cargo Destined for ports of accusations, harbors of guilt. What do policemen eat, Socrates, still prisoner, old one?

2

Painter, paint me a crazy jail, mad water-color cells. Poet, how old is suffering? Write it in yellow lead. God, make me a sky on my glass ceiling. I need stars now, To lead through this atmosphere of shrieks and private hells, Entrances and exits, in . . . out . . . up . . . down, the civic seesaw. Here — me — now — always here somehow.

3

In a universe of cells—who is not in jail? Jailers. In a world of hospitals—who is not sick? Doctors. A golden sardine is swimming in my head. Oh we know some things, man, about some things Like jazz and jails and God. Saturday is a good day to go to jail.

4

Now they give a new form, quivering jelly-like, That proves any boy can be president of Muscatel. They are mad at him because he's one of Them. Gray-speckled unplanned nakedness; stinking Fingers grasping toilet bowl. Mr. America wants to bathe. Look! On the floor, lying across America's face— A real movie star featured in a million newsreels. What am I doing—feeling compassion? When he comes out of it, he will help kill me. He probably hates living.

5

Nuts, skin bolts, clanking in his stomach, scrambled. His society's gone to pieces in his belly, bloated. See the great American windmill, tilting at itself, Good solid stock, the kind that made America drunk. Success written all over his street-streaked ass. Successful-type success, forty home runs in one inning. Stop suffering, Jack, you can't fool us. We know. This is the greatest country in the world, ain't it? He didn't make it. Wino in Cell 3.

6

There have been too many years in this short span of mine. My soul demands a cave of its own, like the Jain god; Yet I must make it go on, hard like jazz, glowing In this dark plastic jungle, land of long night, chilled. My navel is a button to push when I want inside out. Am I not more than a mass of entrails and rough tissue? Must I break my bones? Drink my wine-diluted blood? Should I dredge old sadness from my chest? Not again, All those ancient balls of fire, hotly swallowed, let them lie. Let me spit breath mists of introspection, bits of me, So that when I am gone, I shall be in the air.

7

Someone whom I am is no one. Something I have done is nothing. Someplace I have been is nowhere. I am not me. What of the answers I must find questions for? All these strange streets I must find cities for, Thank God for beatniks.

8

All night the stink of rotting people, Fumes rising from pyres of live men, Fill my nose with gassy disgust, Drown my exposed eyes in tears.

9

Traveling God salesmen, bursting my ear drum With the dullest part of a good sexy book, Impatient for Monday and adding machines.

10

Yellow-eyed dogs whistling in evening.

11

The baby came to jail today.

12

One more day to hell, filled with floating glands.

13

The jail, a huge hollow metal cube Hanging from the moon by a silver chain. Someday Johnny Appleseed is going to chop it down.

14

Three long strings of light Braided into a ray.

15

I am apprehensive about my future; My past has turned its back on me.

16

Shadows I see, forming on the wall, Pictures of desires protected from my own eyes.

17

After spending all night constructing a dream, Morning came and blinded me with light. Now I seek among mountains of crushed eggshells For the God damned dream I never wanted.

18

Sitting here writing things on paper, Instead of sticking the pencil into the air.

19

The Battle of Monumental Failures raging, Both hoping for a good clean loss.

20

Now I see the night, silently overwhelming day.

21

Caught in imaginary webs of conscience, I weep over my acts, yet believe.

22

Cities should be built on one side of the street.

23

People who can't cast shadows Never die of freckles.

24

The end always comes last.

25

We sat at a corner table, Devouring each other word by word, Until nothing was left, repulsive skeletons.

26

I sit here writing, not daring to stop, For fear of seeing what's outside my head.

27

There, Jesus, didn't hurt a bit, did it?

28

I am afraid to follow my flesh over those narrow Wide hard soft female beds, but I do.

29

Link by link, we forged the chain. Then, discovering the end around our necks, We bugged out.

30

I have never seen a wild poetic loaf of bread, But if I did, I would eat it, crust and all.

31

From how many years away does a baby come?

32

Universality, duality, totality . . . .one.

33

The defective on the floor, mumbling, Was once a man who shouted across tables.

34

Come, help flatten a raindrop.

Written in San Francisco City Prison Cell 3, 1959

[minkdelovely]

🗣️ EVEN HIS BONES WERE BETTER THAN OTHER PEOPLE’S.

Oh my gosh Hazel… I can feel how close we’re getting to the BIG WORD and I thought I’d be more prepared but I’m really not… This chapter was the sugar we needed after the last one (even though Ephi is… abrasive, to say the least lmao). Which only makes my love for Ruth more fierce! I loved seeing Autumn just gab with a friend 🥹♥️

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

damn is EVERYTHING out of this girl’s mouth backhanded?? my older sister dominance is itching to draw the line lmao

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty.

this hit me like a fucking train oh my godddd

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

OHHH FUCK I’M TEARING UP 🥲♥️

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again.

LMAOOO yeah I’d wanna avoid Brenda if I could, too

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

HAZEL OH MY GOD 🥲

Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed.

THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT. DAAAAMNNN 😂❤️‍🔥

She nodded enthusiastically,’“Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

Is Ruth one of us, or are we Ruth? Or the “secret” third option: we’re all the ouroboros of desire for Alastor

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

RUTH!! 😂💖 Don’t judge a book by its cover, huh?

The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

you need to stop it with this (please don’t stop)

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul shining through his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

THIS ENTIRE THING IS JUST PURE, CONCENTRATED DREAMYYY

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

ONE FEAR! ONE FEAR!! ONE FEAR!!!

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

sighhh I love Ruth 😭✨

But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

ain’t that the fucking truth 😮‍💨

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

THIS GORGEOUS, HEART-WRENCHING TEE UP

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

AND THE KNOCK OUT OF THE PARK. GOD DAMNNN

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

I’m trying so hard to hold myself together but you’re making it very difficult my dear 🫠♥️

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

WHAT DID I LITERALLY JUST SAY?? 🥲🫠

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

TEARS ARE BURNING MY EYES AS I TYPE THIS FUUUCKKKK

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

I AM SO FUCKING WEAK… SOOO FUCKING WEAK FOR THIS MAN

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

…you already know this whole thing is too powerful. I don’t even have to say it. Not a single thing…

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

Your melodrama matches my melodrama, Alastor 😭♥️ ughh the baby steps toward confession are agonizing, so thank god for my masochistic streak 💅🏻

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

THE WAY HE’S NOT WRONG THOOO

You hadn’t made him run after all for you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

you are really tapping into some of my deep-seeded needs, JESUS CHRISTTT

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

I REALLY FUCKING CAN’T WITH YOU HAZEL — I AM A MESS

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

to quote an icon: I’LL REMEMBER YOU ALL IN THERAPY

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find our estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming. 

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.” 

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 

“Love” her. 

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 

A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 

“Oh hey!” 

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine. 

Yes, he was a man. 

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 

And did that matter at all? 

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

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