#the graphics are a little... idk how i feel about them yet

[softpine]

WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME ABOUT THIS

[achilles-rage]

thirteen crows: chapter five

summary: you’re still reeling from the past 48 hours, but you still have to go to work. buck and eddie come to check on you, and are filled with rage at what they find.

word count: 2.6k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: this is more focused on buddie’s thoughts on the reader, but i like writing it lol. the start of this chapter was lowkey hard to write and idk why, but it’s fine. enjoy<3

warnings: murder (cute<3could be slightly graphic??), stalking, i make buck and eddie kiss again because it’s fun<3, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

Work is hard without Grace, although you can’t help the voice in the back of your brain that’s telling you that it was hard when she was here too, at least, towards the end. You just found out yesterday that she was dead, for God’s sake, but you still have to drag yourself to work today.

What makes matters worse, is she’s supposed to work with you tonight, and the silence is almost too loud with you and Isaac working quietly alongside each other. Plus, with what happened last night, your brain is all over the place.

There’s no football game tonight, and there’s far less people in the bar as usual. Probably because of the murder just down the street tying back to the Thirteen Crows, you think. While you’re usually a little frustrated during quiet nights because of the lack of tips, the silence tonight is increasingly frustrating, because your head is pounding, and your thoughts about Grace and your dream-not-dream is making you want to scream.

Buck and Eddie pick up on your demeanor immediately when they walk into the bar, their eyes focused on you as they walk towards the counter. You don’t even greet them with a smile, which you do even on your worst days, and for a moment, they almost feel bad. This thought is gone almost as soon as it arrives, however, as they know that it’ll be easier for them to get closer to you now.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t even notice they’re there until they’re sitting directly in front of you, and Isaac nudges your arm. You blink slowly, your eyes finally coming back into focus as you look at Eddie, and then at Buck. You smile a little as you greet them, but they see that the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

Seeing you like this is hell. They don’t want you to be upset, especially about Grace. Sure, they want to see you afraid, just sometimes, but never sad.

They know their actions are justifiable, and that you’ll thank them one day for making you happier than ever, but right now, they know they should feel guilty about everything. The problem is, they don’t. They know that they should, yet somehow, all they can think about is making you theirs to touch, and mark, and make scream.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Eddie asks when you finally set their beers in front of them. Your eyes flutter as you inhale a shaky breath, your gaze going unfocused again as you stare at him. Within a second, you’re covering your mouth with your hand as you let out a sob and running to the back room.

Isaac’s eyes widen, and Buck and Eddie look at each other, not knowing what to do or how to feel. Seeing the tears in your eyes for a split second before you turn surprises Buck and Eddie; you were doing so good for them all day, puttering around your house, and Buck feels his heart clench at the sight. 

They don’t notice Isaac following your path a minute later, telling them he’ll be right back as he’s already halfway to the back. Their heads are turned to each other, staring intensely as they both rack their brains for what the hell they’re supposed to do. 

“Should we feel bad about this?” Buck asks, his leg starting to bounce as his heart hammers in his chest.

“Hell no. That bitch got what she deserved. She’s just confused. She knows she wanted her dead, and she doesn’t want to admit that yet. She’ll come running to us sooner or later, and we’ll make her feel better, just like last night.” Eddie reasons in a stern, hushed voice, and Buck nods, mumbling a “yeah, you’re right.” Buck turns to look ahead of him again as he takes a sip of his beer, hoping the alcohol will calm his nerves. 

Buck’s eyes narrow, however, when you come back out a few minutes later with Isaac’s arm wrapped around your shoulders, his lips dangerously close to your ear. He feels his blood pumping through him, but now, it’s not because he feels bad. Any hint of guilt evaporates from his body, and all he wants to do at this moment is rip Isaac’s arm from your shoulders, maybe even from the socket so he can hear him scream.

Eddie smirks when he sees Buck’s reaction, and he knows he’s back on track. He wants to leave right now and plan a gruesome, bloody death for Isaac right fucking now, but he stays in his seat. He lets out a low grunt as he feels Buck’s hand latch onto his thigh, fingers digging into the flesh. He nudges his arm, trying to snap him out of his rage as he looks over at him, and it helps a little; he can feel his grip easing up, but the look in his eyes still looks dangerous.

Eddie gives you a reassuring smile once you’re back in front of them, and when you give them both a soft, tear-filled apology, Buck seems to snap out of it, and his eyes soften.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. What’s up?” Buck asks, giving Eddie a quick, knowing look. Eddie smirks and focuses back on you, leaning forward as you babble your explanation of Grace’s death.

“We’re so sorry, sweetheart. Is there anything else? It seems like there’s more going on inside your pretty head.” Eddie says, and you bite the inside of your cheek before you shake your head adamantly. 

They’re trying to figure out if you’ll say anything about your encounter with them. Working their way up to it slowly to see if you’ll break, which means they’d have to come visit you again.

Of course there’s more going on in your head, you think. Your friend-not-friend just died, and you don’t know what to think about it. And to make matters worse, rather than mourning the loss, half your time today has been spent thinking about those masked men, and what they probably didn’t do to you. And why you liked it so much.

“I’m just so scared. I don’t know what to do. She worked with me; she lived in my building.” you speak finally. You are telling the truth; you can’t help but think that it could very well be you laying God knows where, cold and soulless, but instead, you’re still alive. Buck and Eddie are about to speak, when Isaac’s voice cuts them off, and they try to keep straight faces as they look over at him.

“You don’t have to worry about it. I’ll protect you if anything happens. I promise.” he tells you earnestly, as if he actually believes it. They almost chuckle at his confidence, but their eyelids are practically twitching as they stare him down. That’s their job. And besides, no one will be able to protect you better than they can. 

The laughs threatening to escape their mouths disappear when they look over at you, and you give him a small smile. This time, it’s a real one.

You feel slightly more relaxed at Isaac’s words, and you can’t help but bury your face into his neck as you wrap your arms firmly around his torso. He shushes you softly, kissing the top of your head as he gently rocks you both back and forth. You don’t see Buck and Eddie’s reactions, but their hands are twitching on the counter, just waiting for the perfect moment to rip you away from Isaac and into their embrace.

You know Isaac can’t really promise that you’ll stay safe, but it warms your heart anyway. He’s not exactly a small man; smaller than both Eddie and Buck, but he says it with so much conviction that you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up.

They continue to talk to you throughout your shift, and while you reply to them with ease, clearly not as on-edge as before, you can still feel the pit in your stomach. Something feels off. You know it must just be because Grace is dead, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else.

By the time Buck and Eddie leave, you’ve warmed up to Isaac, and it makes them seethe with rage. They follow you home that night, making sure Isaac keeps his filthy hands to himself and doesn’t try to take advantage of you in your fragile state. They make sure you’re safely behind your locked door by watching the grainy image on their phone screens, and then they make their way home.��They know they could easily take advantage of Isaac walking back from your house alone at 2am, but they hold back. They have something better. Something that will take away their competition and make sure that you cling to them and no one else.

A few nights later, you’re walking home from work again with Isaac. He keeps close to you the entire time, hand brushing yours, and you can feel yourself slowly starting to calm down. 

Isaac has been the best form of calm in the storm for you for the past week, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes. You can’t help but feel safe around him. 

It made you giggle at first to see the way he puffs his chest out when he walks you home, almost as if daring anyone to mess with you, but now you find it endearing. He’s not nearly as vigilant as Eddie when he walked you home that one night a couple weeks ago, but it makes you smile nonetheless.

You let out a sharp gasp as two arms wrap around you from behind, one hand slapping over your mouth to muffle your screams and the other hand digging into the supple flesh of your tummy. Your eyes widen when you see the masked man beside you, grabbing Isaac by the back of his shirt and dragging him into the alley you’re passing by. 

You feel the cool mask against your cheek as the man behind you leans closer to your ear, a muffled voice being heard through the fabric.

“You think he can protect you, sweet girl?” Your blood runs cold. 

That name. You hadn’t been dreaming; they really were in your room that night. No one else has ever called you that, and if you really had dreamed it, this would be one hell of a coincidence. 

You try to scream as the smaller man starts to throw quick punches to Isaac. His nose is already bleeding, and judging by the crack you heard, you’re sure it’s broken. You try to fight against the grip of the larger man holding you hostage, but it’s no use. You try not to think about the sheer size of the man’s arms encasing you; how strong they are as Isaac falls to the ground and holds a hand up in surrender. 

You can barely see through your tears as the masked man pulls out the knife, identical to the one they dragged across your skin in your apartment, and you’re sure it’s the same one. 

You close your eyes before the knife is buried into Isaac’s chest, but the man behind you tuts, moving his hand off of your mouth and letting his fingers dig into your chubby cheeks.

“Watch, baby. Watch how easy it is for us to kill him. How easy it is to get to you.” he purrs, and you let out a quiet sob as you open your eyes. Isaac’s shirt is already covered in blood when you finally look at his crumpled form, and you watch as the knife is repeatedly driven into his torso.

Isaac’s eyes meet yours before they roll back, and you almost fall over, your knees buckling underneath you. The man behind you holds you up, shushing you softly as if trying to comfort you. You can’t help but lean back into his chest, closing your eyes as you silently sob. 

The man in front of you stands up and walks toward you, holding the bloody knife to your throat, the tip of it pressing uncomfortably against your skin.

“Look at me.” you hear, and you slowly lower your gaze to meet the black, empty eyes of the mask. 

“You’re a smart girl. What do you think I’m gonna say, sweet girl?” he rasps, and your lip quivers as you try not to look away.

“If I tell anyone, you’ll gut me.” you whisper, unable to raise your voice any louder as you quote what they said to you in your apartment. You hear both men chuckle, and you tilt your head away as the man behind you nuzzles his masked face against your neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? He was weak. He couldn’t protect you, isn’t that right?” the man in front of you asks in a condescending tone. You nod quickly, whimpering as you feel the tip of the blade press against your skin harder.

“Yes. Yes. He couldn’t protect me.” you sob, letting out a breath as the knife is finally removed from your neck.

“That’s right. Now, go home, sweet girl. Wouldn’t want anyone else to die for you, yeah?” the man in front of you speaks in a low tone, and you nod again. His head moves slightly as his gaze moves to his partner, and you can feel the man’s hesitancy to let you go. He does, though, but not before he brings a hand down to your ass, smacking it hard.

You yelp as you jump away from them, almost falling over now that his strong arms aren’t holding you up. They both stand beside each other in matching stances, their heads tilting in the same way, and it makes you shiver.

“Go. Now.” You don’t waste any more time. You turn and run out of the alley and down the street, not stopping until you’re inside your apartment. When they can no longer hear your footsteps, they pull their masks off and look back over at Isaac’s body, slowly bleeding out. They meet each other’s eyes again with smirks, and then Eddie pulls Buck in for a kiss by the back of his neck. 

“Good. You’re learning to control yourself.” Eddie rasps against his lips, and Bucks hums contently, feeling the tent in his pants grow.

You try to catch your breath as your back hits your door. Your knees finally give out, and without the man to catch you this time, you slide down the door to sit on your carpet, taking in large, shaky breaths as you try to quiet your sobs. 

You know you can’t call the police, their words swarm in your head as soon as you think about that option, and you throw that idea away. You can’t do anything. Either way, from what you hear, the cops have no leads. Telling them would be pointless, and they might not even believe you. 

Your skin is itching as you sit inside the entryway of your apartment, sobbing into your hands, and Buck and Eddie watch you through their phones intently. They’re smug with themselves; the fear in your eyes is everything they wanted, and they got to kill the motherfucker that tried to steal you away from them.

They don’t miss the way your skirt rides up your legs; their favourite of yours; the black miniskirt. When they’re finally sure that you’re not going to call anyone, their attention finally moves to the tent in their pants, cocks hard and leaking as they picture the fear in your eyes and the edge in your voice. 

next chapter

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[joelmillerisapunk]

hiii!! i’m not sure if you take requests but i LOVE your daddy joel fics!! i was wondering if you could write daddy joel overstimulating reader w a vibrator?? maybe making her squirt? love ya!! ❤️

Daddy, please!

Daddy!Joel x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 1,211

Summary: It's that time of day, the one where Joel edges you for as long as he can.

Warnings: 18+, f!oral recieving, vibrator usage, 'daddy' kink, use of good girl, etc. Light bondage,

Notes: idk how i feel about this one, but I hope someone enjoys it. This is not super beta'd or edited so please excuse. And I hope I did your request some justice, sweet nonnie. 🥰 ty @saradika-graphics for the divider

You sit on Joel's lap, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers trace patterns along your inner thigh. His touch is electric, sending shivers down your spine.

"Daddy..." you whisper.

His free hand wraps around your naked body, as he pulls you in closer. "Yeah, baby?" he responds, his voice is deep and so, so soothing.

"I - I need..." you trail off, unsure of how to voice your want.

His hand moves higher, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. "This?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips.

You nod, biting your lower lip. "Yes, but... more."

He chuckles as his fingers slide under the waistband of your panties. "More, huh?" he says, pulling them partly down your legs. He helps you lay down on the bed, and with one swift move, he takes your panties off the rest of the way, leaving you completely naked. You feel exposed and vulnerable. But there's also a sense of safety and trust. You know Joel won't push you further than you can handle.

He leans in and kisses your forehead, then gets out of bed and walks over to the small table in the corner. He opens the drawer and takes out a purple vibrator. He walks back over to the bed and sits down next to you, holding the vibrator up. "You know the rules, sweet girl. You have to wait till I say so," he says.

Your eyes widen as you recognize the vibrator and what's about to happen. "Daddy..." you protest, but he silences you with a kiss, he's already been teasing and edging you all day. You don't think you can handle much stimulation.

"Shh, baby. S’okay. Do it for daddy, you're safe," he murmurs against your lips.

He presses the vibrator against your clit, and you gasp at the intensity. It's too much, too soon. But Joel doesn't relent. He keeps it there, his other hand gently caressing your thigh.

"Daddy..." you whimper, your body tensing up.

"It's okay, baby. Let daddy take care of you, make you feel good. " he coos, his voice soothing. But he doesn't let you come right away. He keeps you on the edge, his fingers deftly manipulating the vibrator in slow, deliberate circles around your clit. You're writhing beneath him, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. You're so close, so impossibly close, but he won't let you tip over the edge.

“Please," you whimper, your voice thick with need. "Please, I can't."

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I know, I know it's hard. Just a little longer, baby. You're doin so good for me. Daddy knows what's best for his pretty little pussy. He'll make her feel real good real soon.”

His words are soothing, but they do little to quell the ache between your legs. You're desperate for any release.

"Please, Daddy," you beg, your voice breaking. "Need to - fuck."

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Not yet, baby.” he finally takes the vibrator off your desperate clit. “Wanna make sure you're good n’ ready. Now m’gonna kiss every inch of your body till you're beggin and writhin, till you can't take anymore. And then, I'll letcha come. Let daddy have some first baby."

You nod, your breath hitching as he pulls away.

He stands up, placing the vibrator beside you on the bed, walking over to his wardrobe. He takes out a silky soft tie and heads back over. He gently takes your hands and fastens them together with his tie. The fabric is soft against your skin. The restraint sends a thrill through you. You're completely at his mercy now.

He sits back down, his eyes meeting yours. "Ready, baby?"

You nod, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Yes, please.”

He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck, then he moves down, kissing your collarbone, your breasts, your stomach, your navel. Never missing a step. He takes his time, his lips explore every single inch of your skin. He moves down, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. You gasp, your body tensing up as he moves closer to your aching core. But just as you think he's going to touch you there, he moves away. He moves up, his lips brushing against your hip bone. He's driving crazy, making love to your skin. He kisses his way up your belly, slowly moving to your breasts. Your nipples pucker into peaks at his touch, and you bite back moans of pleasure as he bites each one delicately.

Joel continues his slow and deliberate exploration of your body, his lips and tongue tracing patterns on your skin. He moves down again, his lips brushing against your hip bone before moving down to your inner thigh. This time, he doesn't move away. His lips meet your core, and you gasp at the contact. His tongue darts out, teasing your clit before he starts to explore your folds. You writhe beneath him, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

Suddenly, you feel Joel's mouth pull away and the vibrator replace them. Your eyes fill with tears. You feel like you're going to implode as you close your eyes.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Joel's voice breaks through the haze of pleasure, and you open your eyes to meet his gaze. His eyes are filled with a fierce intensity, and you feel yourself getting even closer to the edge. "I've got you, baby. I'm right here with you," he murmurs, his voice soothing.

He presses the vibrator against your clit again, and you can feel yourself teetering on the brink. But Joel doesn't let up. He keeps the vibrator there, his other hand gently caressing your thigh. "Let go, baby. Let daddy make you feel good," he coaxes.

You feel yourself start to fall, your body tensing up as the pleasure washes over you. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as the orgasm crashes through you. Joel doesn't stop, he keeps the vibrator against your clit, drawing out the orgasm until you're left breathless and trembling.

Finally, he pulls the vibrator away, and you feel yourself coming down from the high. Joel leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice filled with pride.

He unties your hands, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him close. You feel safe and loved in his arms.

Joel pulls back, his eyes meeting yours. "You okay, baby?"

You nod, smiling up at him. "Yeah, I'm m’good daddy,” you reply, your voice still thick with pleasure.

Joel smiles, his eyes softening. "I'm glad, sweet girl.” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before untying the restraint.

As the two of you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your release, Joel wraps his arms around you, holding you close, your head resting on his chest as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The room is filled with a comfortable silence, the only sounds being your soft breathing and the occasional whisper of the wind outside.

After a while, Joel breaks the silence. "I love you, sweet girl.”

You look up at him, your eyes meeting his. "I love you too, Daddy," you reply, your voice soft and sincere.

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader (smut)

{{-Another smut chapter folks, this one is gRAPHIC IM SORRY or maybe I'm not sorry idk. Anyways, go read Chapter 9 before this one if you want the full context. Otherwise, enjoy again lmao.-}}

//General Warnings: 18+ Fanfic (ESP THIS ONE NO MINORS GO AWAY RN), Reader is implied to be afab and under 5'5

Chapter Warnings: HUGE DOM TED, Reader receiving and giving, humiliation, he smacks u wit it LOL, mix of degradation and praise, gettin' it from the back hhh graphic smut\\

Word count: 5.9k FUCK IM SORRY

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@k-k0129 & @callsign-scully

☆▪︎Love ya to death!▪︎☆

Chapter 10: You're Pathetic

I keep my hands on my doorknob as I turn towards Ted, who's leaning against my closed closet door, still wearing the formal fit he had kept on all day. I can feel my heartbeat pick up in my chest, trying to steady my breathing so I didn't look too excited. "Y'know, I watched Tanner walk right into his room earlier.." I give Ted a small little smile, moving away from my door slowly. I don't know why, but I felt nervous. Genuinely nervous.

"Yeah? Waitin' for everyone to turn in?.." Ted grins at me, slipping one of his hands into his pocket. He's standing at the entire other side of the room, yet I feel like he could pounce on me whenever he wants.

"I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't use the same excuse 3 times in a row.." I let out a quiet chuckle, crossing my arms in front of me. I could see how heavily I was breathing with how much my chest was visibly rising and falling; I was trying to hide it. "So...why are you in here this time?"

Ted doesn't answer right away. He steps away from my closet door, slipping his other hand into his pocket as he steadily approaches me. "Because you want me to be." He answers, a mischievous chuckle leaving him. "Because...you've been starin' at me all day, and I know why.."

"I have not been staring all day..", I scoff defensively, turning my head away from him momentarily. I tried to appear relaxed, but my stomach was welling up anxiously, making me shift my crossed arms a bit.

"Maybe not all day, but I've been payin' attention.." Ted purrs and continues to step towards me, keeping his dark eyes fixed on me. I try to take a step back but I'm stopped by my heel slightly pressing against the baseboard of my wall. I didn't realize I was so close to it already.

"Have you?.." My voice becomes softer, quieter; with a hint of sarcasm to mask my nerves.

"Oh, I have. I've been watching you closely today.." Ted hums, sneakily moving even closer. "I saw where your eyes went when I stepped out, I saw the way you closed your legs on that sofa, I saw you look at my lips again when I had you up on the kitchen counter and I know you were checking me out when you thought I wasn't looking.."

At this point, Ted is about 4 feet away from me. Any closer and he could touch me. I've nearly backed myself up against the wall, a gentle blush along my cheeks. Besides Ted's talking, it's so quiet. Sometimes if you listen well enough, you can hear little things coming from everyone's room, like Joe's watching TikTok's or the sound of Dan's keyboard, but not tonight. It's dead quiet. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Ted.." I speak out carefully, focusing on my words so I don't stutter them out. I could feel my body shivering, tightening my crossed arms to keep myself grounded.

"Uh-uh. You're not lying your way out of this one, princess.." Ted grins at me, taking yet another careful step towards me. "I know what's goin' on in that pretty little head of yours.." I watch as his hand reaches out to finally touch me, his hand moving under my chin to hold it up slightly. I keep my eyes locked on him, my smile faltering a little. God, he's so much taller than me. He towers over me, absolutely towers over me. It makes me feel small. "You can play dumb all you want, but you're nervous as fuck. I can see it." Ted chuckles at me, lightly gliding his tongue along the ends of his top teeth.

"I'm not nervous.." I reply softly, giving him a flirty smile and loosening my arms to let them rest at my sides.

"You're lying to me, (Y/N)..."

"Oh, I'm lying now?"

"Mhmm."

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"Because your hands are shaking.."

I can practically feel my heart drop in my chest, a heavy blush spreading along my face when he calls my bluff. My eyes widen a little and I can't think of a single excuse or comeback. Next thing I know, he grabs me by my shoulders and pins me up against the wall behind me, a grunt escaping me from the gentle but firm collision. He's so strong. He moves me so easily.

"E-Easy.." I stammer and try to move my hands to hold onto Ted's arms, but he moves faster than me. He grabs both of my wrists and pins them up above my head, a gasp leaving me in response. I never perceived Ted to be such a dominant guy, but he wears it...rather nicely.

"This is what you wanted, yeah?" Ted grins mischievously at me. "Missed being beneath me?.."

"Fuck off.." I purr back with a mocking grin, raising my chin up at him. "You're the one that snuck into my room. Again. You're obsessed with me, Teddy.."

"I'm obsessed with you?" Ted repeats, raising his eyebrows at me before pausing. He let's out a curious hum, his eyes scanning my face. I feel my body tense up when he leans in closer to connect our lips in a gentle, longing kiss. I hear a raspy moan leave Ted's throat in the kiss, pressing his thumbs into the palm of my hands to caress them somewhat.

"You might be right about that.." Ted purrs against my lips, trailing kisses slow along the side of my jaw. "But I think you're obsessed with me, too.."

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I try to move my hands to touch him, but his grip is too strong for me to do anything back to him. I just have to take whatever he's doing to me, listen to whatever he's saying to me. I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. "In fact, I know you're obsessed with me.." Ted hums, his low voice rumbling in my ear. "I know you still think about that first night, how I touched you...tasted you..." Ted leaves gentle kisses along my skin with every pause, practically locking my whole body against this wall. I could feel my inner thighs getting warm again, causing me to close them a little. "I know you think about my voice ringing in your ear...I know you like how tall I am, how I tower over you, yeah? Ringin' any bells, you little cunt?" He mocks me, lightly nipping at my ear with a snicker. I open my eyes. It hits me. He's repeating everything I told Joe at the stairs yesterday. He heard us. He heard me.

"Y' f-fuckin' kidding me.." I manage to whisper out with a shaky breath, closing my eyes once more when Ted chuckles lowly into my ear.

"'Fraid not, princess. Surprised you didn't say more about me. Sounded like you wanted to.." Ted's hands slowly move down my pinned hands, his body language telling me to stay still. I keep my wrists up against the wall as his hands smooth their way down to my shoulders, slowing along the sides of my breasts before gripping my waist to keep my body close. As his warm touch explores my body, I can't help but move my hands down to rest them on his shoulders, letting out a shaky breath.

"Y'know what I keep thinking about?.." Ted whispers into my ear, one of his hands staying on my waist while the other steadily moves further down my body. He pulls his face away from my neck to look down, his free hand working to unbutton my pants. "How nice you felt to push into...that first time.." He purrs with a mischievous grin, moving a bit of my pants aside to sneak his hand into them, feeling his fingers press against my clothed bud; he knew exactly where it was. I let out a shy gasp, meeting his dark gaze, my grip on his shoulders tightening a little. "Right after I played with this little thing..." Ted speaks again, moving his fingers in a slow, circular motion against my panties. "I grabbed your waist and slid riiiight in, so easily...you remember that?.."

The little movements he's making against my sensitive nerve makes my body shiver once more. I close my eyes and turn my head with a shaky moan, only to feel his hand move away from my waist to grab my jaw, turning me to him once more. "No no no, look at me. I'm talkin' to you.." Ted scolds me, shaking his head a little. "I asked you a question, didn't I?" His fingers move a little to the side, slowly pulling my panties aside to slip between my folds. This was driving me crazy. Just a few words and some carefully placed kisses were enough to make me wet for him again. How he makes me weak so quickly...

"I-I remember.." I whisper with a little nod, a few shaky breaths leaving me. As his fingers continued to tease inside my sensitive folds, I could feel my core begin to react like it was purring, aching for him once more. I could almost, almost feel him inside me again. I'm so warm...

Ted rewards my answer by moving his fingers up my slit to my sensitive bud, his fingers moving in an unbearably slow circle. "Theo.." A quiet moan leaves me and I lean my head back. His touch makes me crazy, I can feel my mind slipping, my judgment being clouded with nothing but pure arousal for Ted. I can still feel his heated gaze on me. He's watching me squirm, I know he is. He's enjoying this.

"There she is...Fuck, I love my name in your voice.." He chuckles lowly at me, almost mockingly so. "You're so fucking cute, I..." He leans his way back down to my neck as he continues to touch me, latching onto my skin with a dark hum. I feel his teeth and his tongue tighten against the skin, a gasp leaving me in response. He's--He's giving me a hickey. Fuck.

I turn my head, catching our figures in a standing mirror. His body against mine, his head in my neck, his hand in my pants...It was a visual I thought I'd only dream about. It made me desire him more. I could feel my legs shaking like crazy, like they were about to give out. He has me right where he wants me, and fuck, I want him too. I need him.

I turn away from the mirror and glance down at him, my hands moving down from his shoulders to smooth along his clothed body. "E-Enough, please, I..." I whimper to him, taking his tie into my hands to pull on it a little. Ted pulls away from my neck, a pleased hum leaving him.

"Mmm, you don't really want me to stop, do you?.." Ted asks with a low purr, his finger circling my clit a little faster. My body shivers once more, my chest beginning to rise and fall at a quicker pace.

"F-Fuck no, don't you dare stop.." I moan with a shaky chuckle, looking at his tie in my grasp. "I-I just--fffuck...I-I want to move. My legs, I-I feel like--mmfhh--I'm about to fall.." Every couple words are interrupted by a needy moan, biting the corner of my lower lip when I finally manage to complete the sentence.

"Aww, you gonna lose your balance?.." Ted laughs a little at me, moving his finger back and forth along my clit. "Mm? Your legs gettin' a little shaky on me? You that desperate?" He knows exactly how to touch me, and it's making me lose it. I lean my head back, close my eyes and let go of his tie as I moan out, a whimper escaping me as I grip his loose buttoned shirt. I try to close my legs the best I can, but his hand is in the way.

"Say you want me, and I'll move you.." Ted speaks it like a command, a confident smile permanent etched along his lips at how helpess I was in front of him. "Tell me you want me..."

I couldn't fight it even if I want to.

"I want you..." I whine a little with a slight pout. "God I want you, okay? I can--I can still feel you, I need you.."

"Look at me."

"Ted please, I.."

"Look...at me."

A shaky breath leaves me as I open my eyes, meeting his dark gaze with a shy little frown. He looks so sure of himself, so confident and in control. I'm the complete opposite, all because of what he does to me.

"I...I.." With his eyes so intensely on me, I find it hard to speak clearly. He raised his brows at me, as if to say 'go on', but I'm borderline speechless. Anytime I feel I have the ability to speak, he moves his fingers and I gasp or moan instead. This is maddening. It's just three words. "I-I...w...want you.." I'm finally able to muster them up, keeping my gaze on him as I whimper for him. I see his eyes darken with desire and he laughs at me again.

"Oh, that's pathetic.." Ted shakes his head a little, finally removing his hand from my pants to grab my waist with both hands. "Three simple words, and that's how you let them out? That's real pathetic.."

"J-Just take me on the fucking bed already.." I curse at him with a glare, giving his shirt a good tug. I was getting fed up with the teasing, I needed him, bad. That little lash out made Ted's eyes flare at me a little, a grin spreading along his face.

"Ooh, that's better.."

I feel his hands move under me to swiftly lift me up into the air, making me wrap my legs around his waist. I instinctively move my oej hands to his shoulders, a surprising gasp leaving me. It was so easy for him to pick me up. I know we had talked about it before, but my weight was nothing to him. My god.... With his hands holding me up from my ass, he pushes his body against mine and kisses my lips passionately. I quickly kiss him back and wrap my arms around his neck, an excited moan leaving me when he turns us away from the wall to start moving to my bed, grasping and picking at the fabric of his shirt. He nearly slams me down onto the edge of the bed, keeping his hips against mine as he works at removing my shirt first, once again throwing it somewhere in the room. My hands move up into his hair and my nails glide along his scalp, tightening me legs around his hips when he moans into the kiss. I feel him press more against me and my god, he's so hard.

I break away from the kiss to breath, giving him time to move my legs so he could slip my pants down, tugging my panties down with them. He was so hungry for me, I could see it in his eyes. All of that teasing and flirting had been affecting him just as much. He's just as desperate for me. It makes me even more excited for him. I try to sit up to work at removing his clothes, undoing his tie first before he'd stop me, making me lay down again with a grunt.

"No no, not yet, I'm fuckin' hungry first and you're gonna let me eat..." He growls at me, adjusting his loose tie around his neck before latching onto my neck once more, still standing by the edge of the bed as he trails kisses down my naked body, worshipping me like the first night. He eventually has to sit down on his knees to get between my legs. I run my fingers along my upper thighs as his lips move along my breasts and down my stomach, forcing my legs open to feed once more.

Just like before, he's all over me. His tongue can slide into my entrance and taste everything he had teased out of me, pulling me more to the edge of the bed so it was harder for either of us to move. His tongue moved smoothly between my soaked folds, his cold glasses occasionally touching my lower belly once he'd move up to bring attention to my sensitive bud. I watch as he closes his eyes and loses himself deep between my thighs, moaning and panting like it's his drug. Fuck, he's going to condition me to need this every tine.

I don't last as long as I did the first night. I don't even have the chance to warn him, becoming a moaning and whining mess when I finish from his tongue flicking along my warm clit over and over until I reached down and pulled at his hair, hearing him chuckle lowly against me.

"I love making you a fucking mess." He shakes his head, leaving little kisses along my inner thighs. "You get so fucking wet after I eat you out, you know that?" He stands back up and presses two of his fingers against my entrance, toying with it before pushing them into me. The feeling of him moving inside of me was so nice, but not as satisfying as his cock would be. He's once again smiling down at me as he begins to pump his fingers inside of me, his free hand in his pocket once again. "You came faster this time. Am I too much, princess? Is it getting worse? Aww, look at you down there. A fucking mess, aren't you?" He begins mocking me again as I moan for more, moving my knees up a little to try and get him to angle his fingers better. Fuck, he wasn't deep enough. His cock could go deeper.

"T-Teddy, I need more.." I moan softly, trying to push myself against Ted's fingers. His dirty words were dancing around in my head. I was becoming completely his, losing all sense of individuality. Every word and every sound he made just tightened the leash around my neck.

"Mm? These can only go so deep, princess.." Ted hums at me, slowly moving his fingers out of me. "More of what, hmm? Use your words, what do you want from me?.."

I let out a quiet huff, feeling my body shiver when he once again uses his soaked fingers to tease my sensitive clit. The slight overstimulation made my body jolt a little, making it harder to get my words out.

"D-Don't make me say it..." I pouted at him, holding my upper body up by my elbows. Ted starts laughing at me again, shaking his head a little.

"You gonna go shy on me again? You know better than that, right?.." Ted grins at me, spreading his fingers inside my slit to spread my soaked folds. "Wanna use that little mouth for somethin' else then? Hmm?.." Ted moves his hand away from my core to gently grab my chin. I can feel my essence along his fingers, making me shiver a little. His voice was gentle and almost comforting, but the way he was touching me was humiliating. Still holding my chin, Ted makes me sit up at the edge of the bed, looking me over as he moves his fingers to my lips. I open my mouth for him and keep my gaze on him, the unique taste of my essence and Ted's fingers touching my tongue. This may sound odd, but I had never tasted myself before. I can see why Ted gets so lost between my legs, it was sweet. Savory...

"You are so...fucking cute.." Ted purrs at me, watching me suck on his fingers with dark, piercing eyes. "Oooh, I like you like this..."

My eyes glance down to his belt, my breathing picking up in excitement as I reach for it, quickly working at getting it unbuckled. I half-expected Ted to stop me, but he looks just as eager for his pants to be off. The sound of the metal buckle loosening was only making me more aroused, panting as I slid the full belt off of him.

"You are so fucking eager for it, eh?.." Ted chuckles at me, slowly removing his fingers from my mouth to help me remove his pants. "You're so impatient. Easy, baby..." I certainly was impatient, I wasn't afraid to show it. I tugged his boxers down, moving my head back a little when his length suddenly springs out in front of me. Ted laughs at me again, trailing his tongue along his top teeth. Whenever he laughs at me, I feel like he's tightening the collar around my neck even more. He laughs at me like I'm a little pet that's entertaining him. Warm, but sarcastic.

"Is it intimidating? Mm?.." Ted hums with a devious grin, moving his other hand to slink into my hair. I lean a little into his hand with a content sigh, feeling him begin to massage my scalp. At this point, I had truly lost myself, falling deep into my arousal for Ted. I carefully bring his tip to my lips and open my mouth to allow him inside. Ted physically shudders as move my head forward, feeling his shaft slide along my tongue.

"A-Ah, fuck.." Ted let's out a shaky moan, taking a fistful of my hair into his hands once I tighten my lips around him and begin moving my head back and forth. Even with him wrapped in my mouth like this, he was still completely in control of me. His girth was pulsing inside my mouth, a moan leaving me as his tip continuously rubs passed my tonsils. I close my eyes for a moment to focus on my movements, smirking a little when I begin to hear a symphony of panting and moaning from Ted.

"Oh my god, (Y/N)--f-fuck.." He chuckles weakly, giving my hair a nice tug to pull me in closer. I gag a little against him, pulling back briefly to steady myself. God, his size was almost too much for me. "Easy, girl. Easy.." Ted purrs with a little chuckle, moving his grip to the back of my head to pull me in close once more, allowing me to take my time. I moan as his tip touches passed my tonsils again, slowly moving my head back and forth once more. Once I found a smooth rhythm, I was able to adjust to his length and take him in a little deeper, massaging his shaft with my lips and curling my tongue underneath. I began to feel his hips moving against my head, pushing his cock deeper down my throat with every thrust. He keeps a fistful of my hair in his hand, gazing down at me as he fucks my face freely.

"There you go, there you fucking go, yeahhh..." He moans darkly, panting with every thrust he deals. "You look so pretty, baby. I like you with your mouth stuffed--oh god, yes--fucking stuffed like this. Just like this.."

I roll my eyes back and moan against his thick shaft, my own entrance throbbing everytime he slips down my throat. His filthy words will be ringing in my ears for a long while, I'm sure of it. I'll dream of it. I'll beg for it.

I feel his length twitch in my mouth and a shaky, almost nervous sounding moan leaves Ted. For a moment, I expect he's going to finish inside my mouth, but he pulls his length out instead, stifling another moan as his body shudders. He breathes heavily as he gazes down at me, moving his hand from my hair to caress my face again, his thumb rubbing my cheek somewhat roughly.

"Fucking hell...you're a little slut for this, hm?.." Ted chuckles at me mockingly, moving his shaft up to my face to rub his tip against my cheek. A weak moan leaves me, closing my eyes to catch my breath as he rubs himself on me. It was so dehumanizing, but holy fuck, I didn't care. I was so horny for him. Everything he did made it worse. "Yeah, look at you...look at you.." He whispers to himself, resting his length on top of my face with a curious hum. "Is this what you've been thinking about? Hm? You got what you wanted?.." I close one of my eyes when he rests his shaft on my face, opening my mouth somewhat to stick my tongue out at him. He let's out a dark chuckle, lightly smacking his tip along my tongue a few times. "God, you're a little whore, eh? I put on some nice clothes, smack you around a little bit and you'll do whatever I want.."

"Pretty much..." I purr back at him, flicking my tongue against his tip. A pleased hum leaves him at he slips his length away, moving his hands to my chin to guide me to stand up. He keeps his dark gaze on me, glancing down at my lips with another dark chuckle before pulling me into a deep kiss, his hand moving down to wrap itself around my throat. I return the passionate kiss with a needy moan, moving my hands up to unbutton some of the buttons of his shirt. He slips his tongue into the kiss, a growly moan leaving him. My whole body feels hot, my thighs feel tense and I know my core is aching for him, aching for all of him. When he breaks the kiss to speak again, my heart begins to beat out of my chest.

"Turn around for me.."

I feel his grip around my throat tighten a little alongside the command and he's smiling mischievously at me. His pupils are so large with arousal, his eyes mind as well be pitch black. I'm surprised his glasses were still on, but I understood why. He wanted to see everything clearly this time. Last time was spontaneous and passionate. Tonight, everything's deliberate. Calculated. He wants to savour it all. Savour me. Enjoy me, so I do as he says. He let's go of my throat so I can turn around, feeling him hold my waist with one hand and grab the back of my head with the other. He carefully bends me over the bed, making sure we're both positioned comfortably. It's a relatively tall mattress, so my legs can stay on the ground, for now. I can hear his deep breathes over my anxious panting, his warm hand leaving my head to smoothing down my bare back. His free hand leaves my waist and I feel his tip press up against my soaking wet entrance. The anticipation is unbearable. This. This is what I had been waiting for all day. All. Fucking. Day.

The moment I feel him push into me was like I was my soul was ascending out of my body. His length fit inside my entrance like it was always meant to be there. All night I could feel it aching for him, I could feel where it was supposed to be. It was a sensation I had never experienced before, with anyone I had ever been with. With Ted, it's not just that I wanted him, my body needed him, craved him. I couldn't think straight now even if I wanted to, I was in his hands. I let out a long, satisfied moan as he pushes into me completely, leaning my head back a little. I hear him chuckle behind me, his hand moving to hold my waist again. "Oh I know, baby. I know..." Ted purrs, using his other hand to rub my lower back. "I've needed this too. Fuck, I've needed this.."

Ted doesn't start out as gentle as he did the first night. No, he begins working at me immediately. I feel his hips smack against my ass as he thrusts into me, pulling me into his movements by my waist. He's using me like I don't even matter, but I wouldn't have it any other way, not tonight. I keep my head leaned back so he can hear my needy moans for him, my mouth completely hung open. Once again, I don't give a fuck if anyone hears us. He's fucking me like I'm the only girl in the world, I needed it.

"You are so fucking good, princess. Such a fucking good princess..." Ted growls at me as he fucks me roughly, reaching further up to grab my shoulder, moving closer to make his thrusts harder. This was already better than the first night. Something about slapping his shaft on me had made him even wilder, more feral. This was more than I could've hoped for. If every fuck was going to be like this, I'm following him home. I don't give a fuck. This is everything.

"Teddy! Teddy, oh my g--Te-Ted--Teddyyyy" It's nearly impossible to get any other word out that isn't his name. I'm as careful with my volume as I can be. I'm a mess, an absolute mess for this man and I want him to know it. Ted doesn't even have the energy to laugh at me, he's just as lost in this as I am. He keeps smacking his hips roughly against mine, over and over, not once losing the pace or the rhythm. He was practically throbbing inside me, I could feel it. So thick, so deep. I had no way of grabbing him or turning myself around. I had to take it. I wanted to take it. Even when my legs began to shake once again, I kept still for him, letting him hear my desperate cries for him. Just him.

"You really are--ughh--fucking made for me, little cunt..." He groans out, taking both sides of my waist into his hands to pull me in harder and harder. My whole body was surging with pleasure, all I could do was close my eyes and cry for him. It was hard to even understand what I was saying at this rate. I'd cry out his name, I'd moan for his cock, I'd beg for him to move faster. He'd reward my dirty words with a grunt, a spank, a hard thrust, any and all for me. We both became borderline unintelligible, occasionally hearing a growly "Take it. Take it, bitch. You fucking take it." from Ted until I began to feel it all begin to build up in my stomach. My cries become more desperate, his moans becomes louder, his cock massages my sensitive walls and slams into my sensitive core over and over until it all comes undone.

"I'm cumming! I'mcummingi'mcummingi'mcummingi'mcumming!..."

I whimper and whine out for him to hear as I feel my entire body burst with intense pleasure, feeling his hand quickly come up and grab a fistful of my hair to tug it back again. I feel his body lean down against mine, grinding and thrusting against me to make my release even stronger. He wanted to hear everything, he wanted to feel me tighten around him and cry his name. Fuck, did he get it. He got it all. Everything he ever wanted, he could have it.

He slows down his thrusts to allow me to come down from my high, grinding against me like a desperate animal as I moan weakly. It feels like my brain is dancing around consciousness and I realize...he hasn't even finished yet.

"B-Baby, fuck, I'm...I need--I need you. I need more..." He moans against my skin, carefully pulling out of me so he could push me more onto the bed. I'm too weak to try and fight him on this, not that I even wanted to, but fuck was I sore.

"Theo, fuck.." I whimper weakly, my half-open eyes watching as he crawls on top of me. Before I have any time to think, he slips inside my sensitive core again, letting his desperation be known with a relieved moan. "M-My name, f-fuck. My name, again, please...I..." Ted whispers as he begins to fuck me again. I don't have the energy nor the desire to resist, regardless of how sore I am. He's throbbing inside me, fucking me desperately. I wrap my arms and legs around his body and moan out his name for him, our heavy breathing mixing together. He stuffs his face into my neck. Every quick thrust from him sets my body on fire, a slight spark of pain mixing in with the pleasure everytime his hips smack into mine. All the adrenaline was slowly coming down, but Ted wouldn't last much longer, I could feel it. He was moaning so sweetly into my ear, rubbing his sweaty body against mine as his thrusts became more desperate. I moved one of my hands up to run my fingers through his thick hair, caressing the back of his head as I whimper his name. "Theo, Theo, Ohh Theo, yes, yes.."

With just a few more sloppy thrusts, I feel his thick warmth enter me, his body shivering against mine as he empties himself inside me. I close my eyes at the familiar sensation, tightening my legs around him as he grinds the rest out. I'm so full of euphoria and exhaustion, among other things. "Fuuuuuck.." Ted whispers into my ear, slowly pulling out of me with a shaky groan. He pulls away from my neck to look at me, but my exhaustion is hitting me so strongly, I can barely keep my eyes open. Ted chuckles at me weekly, planting a gentle kiss on my lips before moving off of me somewhat.

X▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎X

I lay flat on the bed with my eyes clothes, breathing heavily in an attempt to catch my breath. At first, I thought Ted was leaving, sitting up a little to see if I could spot him. I didn't see or hear anything at first, frowning to myself. Did he leave?...

When I suddenly feel the bed sheets underneath me move, I turn around to see Ted was trying to take the comforter off. I laugh weakly, sitting up a bit to help him toss it off before moving under the loose sheet.

"I was...worried for a second.." I admit in a gentle tone, moving aside so Ted could slip in next to me.

"Worried? 'Bout what?" Ted asks with a curious hum, slipping his white shirt and tie off of his body completely before laying on his side. "Thought I left?"

"Mhmmm.." I hum quietly with a nod, shifting closer to him. "A little bit.."

Ted gives me a warm smile, making sure we were both comfortable under the loose sheet before wrapping his strong bare arms around me, pulling me in close to his chest.

"Nuh-Uh. I'm stayin'..." He whispers to me, one of his hands moving to caress and massage the back of my head. "I'm stayin'. I'm stayin'..."

I feel my exhaustion get the best of me and I close my eyes, a weak smile spread along my lips at his words. My hands are comfortably in front of my body, content to be nuzzled up against Ted's chest for the night.

Another Night ends in Ted's arms.

I'm happy.

__________________________________Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 || Chapter 18 (smut) ||

[eri-pl]

Another ficlet. Finrod, Feanor, a natural history lesson in the Halls of Mandos. Not a part of the calendar, this ficlet just happened.

Warnings: nature-documentary-levels of violence (insects dying in awful ways, it may be triggering), discussion of animal reproduction, discussion of death and suffering. Not graphical, but still evocative. And idk how to phrase it, but: don't read if you have triggers around pregnancy. Seriously.

Also, fig trees are weird. Like, really weird. They are irl. If the idea of a cool, metaphorical tree from the Bible (or: a cool tree with fruit that you do eat) being somewhat eldritch triggers you, don't read (and don't google the detailed biology of anything form the genus Ficus)

“And you're showing me all this, because…?”

Finrod saw himself in Feanor's old studio, the host impatiently paced back and forth as he used to. The image was much more detailed than his own memories: the smell of wax and ink, the rustling of papers moved by the warm wind that entered through the window, even the slight aftertaste of coffee.

He missed being alive, more than ever. And yet…

“Lord Námo said it may be helpful,” he replied.

“Helpful for them, to convince me to forfeit my heart, which I don't even have anymore?” Feanor scoffed at him, and a wave of bitterness washed over Finrod. “Or helpful to you, to have someone congratulate you for all your dubious philosophical speculations? Or maybe for helping a Man steal what is not his?”

“This he did not say, but I came to you, uncle—”

“Half-uncle.”

It did not matter much and Finrod didn't hide this feeling. “—to help you lessen your pain, even if only by a little.”

“How graceful. Truely, a son of Arafinwë. Speaking of which, why didn't you crawl back to the Valar with him?” Even in a dream of the dead, Feanor's voice was full of melody and emotion. How was his memory and imagination so detailed?

“I'm not sure. I thought that I could change something, that I could — and have to — protect my father's people. And I was curious about Middle Earth. This too.”

“I see that you have grown up somewhat. Good. So, tell me, Findaráto, has your curiosity been satisfied?”

“Partially. Mostly— no, not mostly. But as much as it could be, I suppose.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the rustling of the leaves outside, and an occasional bird call. Feanor was shielded, almost unpresent, hiding behind the image. He didn't even bother to make the vision of him breathe.

Eventually, he returned and gestured at the alabaster vase, filled with fig branches, which hadn't been there before. “Tell me, do you know how those bear fruit?”

What did it have to do with anything? But Finrod knew better than to argue with his uncle.

“Half-uncle. And no: I don't care that you did not show me yourself saying this. As long as you keep it open, I consider it said. But back to my question.”

Just like Lord Námo, but quicker to get upset. Of course, from his uncle— half-uncle — Finrod could close part of his thoughts. But there had been enough distance between them already, and that would only increase it.

How did fig trees bear fruit? They grew hidden flowers, enclosed in growths that looked like smaller figs and matured into them. The Men believed that those plants, unlike all others, didn't produce flowers or need pollination, but this was of course false.

“And what does pollinate them?” Feanor spoke like a teacher, and Finrod realized that in the vision they shared he was now a child. Should he try to contest it? But he had come to his half-uncle to console him, not to argue. If Feanor would have him as a child, so be it.

He came closer to the branches. Some of them had mature fruit, some young, and some had the small figs that goats ate. “I don't know, I have never thought of that before. I suppose they pollinate themselves— but no, it would make no sense if they had no other tree to mate with. And they do need those small figs nearby… So I would assume those are sources of the pollen and some kind of small creature — an insect or arachnid — pollinates them.”

Feanor nodded and poked one of the maturing small figs with his finger. A group of tiny flies emerged from it — no, not flies, their bodies were built like very small wasps. Some had wings, some crawled on their bellies — and those were dying.

“Look at the females closely,” said Feanor, pulling Finrod’s attention to the winged wasps. Each of them had tiny specks of pollen on her body. They took flight, and landed on the immature figs — some on the small ones, and one on the big that looked like it could mature into an edible fruit.

“They will each crawl inside an enclosed flower — more like a garden actually. Inside each of those goat figs there are many flowers, now the male ones aren't mature yet, but the female ones will be pollinated by what the wasps brought. And in some of them the insect will lay her eggs, preventing growth of the fruit — the tiny actual fruit, not what the ignorants call a fruit — the others shall grow. And when the eggs mature, the new wasps will emerge into the inside of the fig, and mate, and take the pollen from the now-ready male flowers. Then the male wasps will dig a tunnel out and die. And the females will fly out, and enter more unripe figs, tearing off their antennae and wings in the agonizing process, pollinate, lay eggs and die soon after.”

Finrod looked up at his half-uncle's face. “And what do they do here, in Aman? I suppose—”

Feanor smiled and his eyes glistened with fire, but there was no mirth in it. “Where do you think I studied them?”

They stood in silence and pain. No death in the Undying Lands, except when there is. But for the Fruit-Giver the trees had always been more important than things that moved, weren't they?

Finrod shook it off — those weren't his thoughts — but didn't close himself out. He looked at the dying insects and at Feanor. “Once, I would try to comfort you by saying that the figs are beautiful, or that the new wasps are born and fly… But it hurts. Dying. It hurts so much. I'm sorry.”

“You have grown somewhat, indeed. Yes, the new wasps grow… but it's not even the whole of it. We haven't talked about the sweet figs yet.”

Finrod listened.

Feanor poked the ripe sweet fig, but no insect came out. “When a wasp enters the sweet fig,” he said slowly, “she has no place to lay her eggs. The flowers are shaped differently. She pollinates them, and dies — broken, useless, discarded — and the plant digests her until there's nothing left. Just the sweet fruit, for the joy of the Eldar and more glory of the Valar. Tell me, my little philosopher, what do you think: do figs pity wasps? Do they even think about them?”

Finrod forced himself to stay open despite the pain and anger pouring onto him. “They don't know the pain of death, so how could they pity it?”

“Yet, how could they not? How can they expect— and not even care —” Feanor's voice shook, the wasps quivered in agony, the room trembled. Words and feelings roared around like a storm. Slowly, it calmed down and Feanor resumed: “And yet, they do expect. They gave nothing to me, and yet I'm supposed to give everything, and why? Because only I can do that? Because I'm the biggest wasp that they have in their cage? Nobody else is asked for something like this.

“I'm supposed to tear out my heart, and get nothing out of it, and everyone else shall be happy, and I shall be — gone, not even a trace left, digested into the sweetness of a fig. Yes, I know this would be noble of me. I do not care. I do not want to be noble, I've tried being noble already and it didn't work. I want, for a change, to be happy. And I won't take anything less than that.”

The vision blurred, they were in the room, and they were the wasps crawling into a fig, and they were dead bodies lying under the brilliant light that they had helped recover… Finrod took control, dreaming then into his studio, back in Nargothrond. The figs were still there, but now in a simpler, Man-made vase.

“What's this?” Feanor pointed to an empty, unimagined place where a door should be.

Oh. This. Finrod would rather not delve into the whole Celegorm and Curufin situation. “Not very relevant. Two of your sons learned that I was planning to help Beren and, well, we had a disagreement. They took control of the city for some time, but we did not fight. Just argued.”

“What else would you expect them to do?” Feanor stood behind Finrod’s desk in his regal robes, hands behind back, scanning the studio. It was a messy room, compared to his.

“What else would you expect me to do?”

“Not— Oh, I see. You could have mentioned more clearly that you have also been bound by an oath. At least now you understand.” It should have been a question, but wasn't.

“I didn't kill anyone for it.”

“Not with your own hands, no. I appreciate you not murdering my sons for protecting our property. It was more than I would expect with your Telerin heritage.”

Finrod looked him in the eye — now as they were in his imagination, he wasn't a child anymore. “Why are you trying to provoke me? What is this really about? Do you want me to say that we shouldn't have the Trees back if the cost is so high? That we shouldn't have figs or happiness or whatever the metaphor is— I don't know! I trust in the Valar knowing what they're doing, even if they cannot understand how much it takes, but that's just it: trust. And I cannot understand it fully either. Even now. Nobody can, because we aren't you! What do you expect me to say?”

Feanor shrugged lightly. “Honestly? I expected you to say something sanctimonious, a multitude of pretty words about the greater good, sacrifice, and how the wasp dies happy and cheerful, because she knows that it will give joy to everyone else.”

Had Finrod really been like this? Simplistic, blunt, and certain about the things he had no experience with? Maybe. Probably.

“Definitely,” said Feanor, surprised. “You didn't know. How ironic.”

“I apologize. I— I don't think anyone has the right to expect from others something he had not gone through himself. And even now…” The shadows deepened around them, and the air smelled of wolves. Not too much, not out of control anymore, but it was noticeable. “I do not know how I managed to. I'm not who I had thought myself to be; I was terrified, and weak, and lost, and yet… it was enough, somehow. Just enough to do what I had to do. Not to tell anyone else what he should do. To know, yes. But not to claim any authority. Not to try to push you… I'm not making much sense, am I?”

Feanor stepped closer to him, emanating warmth, and the shadows moved back from the light of the fire that was his spirit. The vision was now equally imagined by both of them: a shadowed room blending various memories, unripe figs on the table blazing with light. Pieces of broken marble. Tapestries on the walls. Noticeable lack of blood on the floor. Smell of the sea, or maybe of tears.

“You are both the wasp and the fruit,” Finrod said warmly, looking at the gobelins. They were beautiful.

“I never asked to be a fig! I never—.”

“I know. Nobody asks for it, I suppose. I'm certain Beren didn't either. And yet, if I were to make that choice again, I'd make it all the same.”

Feanor traced the pattern of the tapestry with his finger. “You had a choice.”

“That is true. But does it change much?”

“I don't know.” He started to fade, and with him the tapestry and parts of the room.

“Wait.”

Feanor's presence returned. “There's nothing more to say. You can't convince me—”

“I don't intend to.” Finrod smiled. “Nor do I have anything wise to say to you. But we can simply be here. I miss you.”

“Soon you will go, I can feel life calling to you, your mind longing for its senses. As does mine. The only difference is that you are free to follow. But if you want to dream with me for a while more, I won't forbid you.”

“Thank you, uncle.”

Feanor didn't reply and they sat together, the wasps buzzing around them— or maybe they were moths? Something winged and surprisingly fragile, of that Finrod was certain.

[calware]

what r some of ur fav Hal fics? Currently looking 2 read some and would love some recs!

sure thing!!

fics that are specifically about hal:

Reallocated by breezefulskies mature - chose not to use archive warnings - 324,756 words - 65 chapters (unfinished) Hal finds himself stranded aboard a certain meteor, impact-bound for Houston, Texas circa 1995. And everything spirals out from there. Because sometimes, when a system seems to be just short of defunct, all that is required is to take a step back and reevaluate the materials at hand and redistribute your available resources. And so, with birth comes a countdown on a cycle that begins as it ends: In the red.

hal is mysteriously sent to earth via unknown means and finds himself raising a baby as best as he can, which, given that he's glasses, is not easy. this is my favorite homestuck fic, not just because it's about hal, but also because i love the focus on family dynamics and the plot as it unfolds. begging everyone to read this, i can't say what happens exactly without spoiling things, it's just really really good. at the moment, it updates once a month

Ersatz Abyss by katreal mature - no archive warnings apply - 120,092 words - 39 chapters (unfinished) You look into the mirror to find your own face looking back at you. You laugh. And then you cry. Last, you try and figure out how you got to this moment. The Auto-Responder had long since resigned himself to an artificial existence, his only dwindling hope for escape hinging on a promise that has yet to be fulfilled. Then one day he wakes up, Dirk nowhere to be found. What's the point in getting what you want, if you can't show off a little?

another great hal fic. i managed to get my roommate (who has not read homestuck) to read this and they really enjoyed it, so i'm sure you all won't have any problems liking this one either. there are a lot of fics out there of hal getting a body, but this one is very different in that it's not the happy ending that you might first think it is. this fic perfects the feeling of everything snowballing into a bigger and bigger problem until it all falls apart

fics that have hal in them:

Bound in Ink and Iron by cyphertext (@4lph4kidz) teen - no archive warnings apply - 18,627 words - 3 chapters (unfinished) A prisoner in his own kingdom, the Prince of Derse seeks his freedom through the inadvisable use of a magic mirror. While making his escape he finds himself lost and in the company of a strange boy who lives alone in the ruins of his grandmother’s cottage. Both cursed, both hunted, they agree to travel together in the hopes that they can find some way to save their loved ones from their terrible fates. Or so the story goes.

hal is in this one for one chapter. but so far there are only three chapters... which means he's there for a whole third of the fic ^_^ but for real, i really like the way zero portrays him here. i am a supporter of evil shadow clone rights

Tennessee Whiskey & You by mistlafey teen - graphic depictions of violence, major character death - 12,217 words - 5 chapters (unfinished) When Dirk dies after an aneyursm, Hal and Jake have difficulties coping. Jake drinks to forget, and eventually Hal can't handle drunk Jake and his own grief - so he turns that into anger. “I’m not him, Jake! I can’t fucking- I can’t fix you. Dirk is gone and you don’t get to pretend he isn’t anymore. I can’t be Dirk, and every time you try to tell me I am it fucking hurts. There’s nothing left for you here. If Dirk was the only person that filled a void in you, there is nothing left to make you whole.”

i honestly have no idea how this is going to go but the bar scene in this one lives in my head rent-free. idk if it's ever going to update again though. hal fans forever forced to take what we can get

Falling for the First Time by nobrandhero teen - no warnings apply - 63,818 words - 11/17 chapters The game is over, Alpha Earth resets to 2009, and Dirk's bro doesn't live up to expectations. The movie director who appears so chill and stoic in interviews is actually a talkative, needy dweeb like his teenage counterpart. It's not a bad thing, as far as Dirk's concerned.

for whatever reason, i'm a sucker for fics where the characters somehow end up on earth again post-game, and out of all the fics that follow that concept this one is my favorite. hal is also there sometimes

[star-centric]

Okay I have a mean request :)) So hear me out: something happens to MC (maybe they get attacked by another demon or smth idk) and it ends up causing Belphie to start getting nightmares about lesson 16 of the original game. Now, normally, if he has bad dreams, he'd go to MC for comfort, but he doesn't exactly want to make MC comfort him for him having hurt them, so he tries to keep it to himself. How it ends is up to you.

Got in the mood to write and I love this idea!! Reader is gender neutral!!

CW: mention of violence/injuries (but nothing gory/graphic), spoilers for lesson 16 in the first game

It’s rare for Belphie to not get any sleep. Borderline impossible even.

But yet he finds himself standing outside your door, late into the night. He’s sure that everyone else is sleep- he can’t even hear Lucifer’s cursed record echoing in the halls.

Belphie wants to open the door, but as his hand inches towards the handle, he pulls it back to his side. He wants to open it, crawl by your side to have your own heartbeat lull him to sleep like he’s so used too. But he can’t do it. He wants to see you so bad, but he forces himself not to.

He doesn’t know how he’ll react to seeing those marks on your skin.

Despite it happening weeks ago, your injuries remain fresh in his mind. The bandages that his brothers had to wrap you made his heart drop, and the claw marks that were left around your neck made him want to hurl. It was hard for all of them to see you hurt, but Belphie especially couldn’t handle seeing you like this.

Because it reminded him too much of what he did to you.

Sometimes he can still see your lifeless body when he closes his eyes. He still gets nightmares to this very day over it, his own malicious laugh haunting him.

His throat tightens at the thought of it, but he forced himself to swallow away his tears, his dread- how can he cry when he’s the one who killed you? When he was the monster? He doesn’t have a right to he feels, so he just bottles up his guilt and hatred for himself. Like he’s doing now, except he’s barely holding on.

Belphie is on the brink of falling apart when he takes a step back, repeating that he doesn’t deserve your comfort, your touch, anything from you- but his breath catches when the door cracks open. He’s frozen as you stand there, rubbing your eyes and yawning. You become a little startled when you become aware of him, voice still filled with sleep.

“Belphie? What’s wrong?”

The collar on your shirt droops a little, and he can see some of the claw marks on your neck peeking out underneath it.

Anything that Belphie had planned to say immediately dies on his tongue.

He feels your fingers gently grasp his cheek. He doesn’t realize that he’s crying until your thumb wipes away a tear, eyes full of concern and brows furrowed in worry.

How can you still look at him after what he did to you? How can you still show him love?

He doesn’t deserve it.

He doesn’t deserve you and he knows it.

Belphie can’t stop the tears rolling down his face no matter how hard he tries. He finds himself on his knees, trying to control his sobs but failing. He wants to apologize, beg for forgiveness, but all of his words are spilling out jumbled together. All of his bottled up emotions rise to the top, unable to be contained anymore. He’s pathetic he thinks, but all he can do is wail as you slump down to the floor, taking him in your arms.

It only makes him sob more when he feels your warmth, your arms bringing him in closer.

Time becomes a blur for Belphie, and he finds himself in his usual spot by you in your bed. He wants to feel embarrassed, ashamed of acting so childish- but he just sinks into your side as your fingers lightly comb his hair. He hears your heartbeat in his ears, lulling him into a much needed slumber. He also hears your gentle tone- even if he can’t make out the words, it brings him a sense of peace that he’s been missing for far too long.

He may never forgive himself for both what he did and failing to protect you- but he will find a way to atone for his actions, from now until the end of time.

Belphie finds it easier to sleep for the first time in a while.

[luneariaa]

✧ ombre di testimoni.

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : claudio serafino x fem! reader.

✰ 𝐰. 𝐜. : 700+

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : let the shadows be the witness of the love you both have shared during nightfall.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : reader mentioned to be wearing a nightgown, fluff bc i miss him aughh,, and idk what i wrote for some parts lmao,,

. dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! 🌠

"It's getting late."

You spoke as your gaze landed upon the man who simply just arrived within your very own sight. Standing by the doorway, the gentle breeze passes by your nightgown, feeling it flow around you slightly at that moment.

He returned your gaze without any ounce of hesitation present; as if he's wholly observing your figure very much attentively. You're always so divine within his two eyes alone-- as if you're pure, untarnished by every evil and even human sins in existence alone.

But then again, he's the only one to truly know; have witnessed on how he could easily prove his thoughts otherwise.

"Have you eaten, cara?"

Ever so tender with his own choice of words, his slate blue eyes never once strayed away from yours; beginning to take a few slow steps closer.

"I was worried about you, looking all worn out, and you're worrying about me having eaten, or no?" Instead of annoyance, you simply huffed in tad bit of mirth, shaking your head slightly.

"To answer your question, I did eat a little. I couldn't eat properly if I'm not sure about you having eaten or no."

A faint smile ghosted over his luscious lips over your response.

"You don't have to do that, bella."

"If it needs to be done, then I'd gladly lose sleep or even starve for you, if I ever had to."

Claudio just wanted to mess with you for a bit, trying to gauge more reaction out of you. He couldn't help himself when you're standing in front of him looking all effortlessly gorgeous, while being all worried over his being.

It is a tiring day, indeed. But your presence made it at least far better than it is.

His head is tilted slightly downwards to face you, well-aware on how his tall, yet imposing figure alone manages to tower over you so easily. You allowed him into your personal space, your head tilted upwards slightly to meet his own.

"But I wouldn't want you to starve."

Your hands daintily reach up to caress his face underneath your fingertips; your touch alone is filled with utmost tenderness that could possibly scare all the demons away, tracing an outline across his jaw while his eyes are almost half-lidded, lingering over your face.

He makes you feel safe and protected.

And so, he returned your actions by placing his hands atop of your own, and bringing one of them down to interlock it with his own. None would be able to witness such a heartwarming moment that was being shared between the both of you.

Let the shadows of your silhouettes be the only witness.

Claudio relishes upon your appearance as a whole; drinking you in within his sole gaze.

"You look so, so beautiful, mia stella."

It feels as if he's shielding you from any possible harm that might get in the way at this very moment.

"But I believe that you deserved the title more, caro." You partly teased your Italian prince regarding his previous, genuine remark, whilst letting him do whatever he pleases, whether by his actions or even his words alone.

It caused him to grin so softly over your words, resting his chin atop of your head, now letting his strong arms to engulf you within a loving and warm embrace.

"No, my point still stands." He stated simply, as if not leaving any other room for argument.

"You belong in the museum, tesoro. But no, you're fated to be in my arms instead."

Slowly, Claudio pulled back just a bit, keeping his gaze remained towards you, placing a small peck upon your lips after.

"Oh, and if I were, are you planning to steal me away?"

He couldn't help but to chuckle over the veracity of your comment.

"If anyone ever had such a valuable, yet beautiful specimen within their possession, best believe that I will try to steal it away if it interests me."

"But then again, you're not owned by anyone on the day we found one another."

You giggled a bit as he finishes his mini speech, trying your best to cover up the warmth that gradually spreads over your cheeks-- but to no avail.

"You always have your own way with words, don't you?"

"But it is you, who made me naturally admit those words out like no other." Claudio removes one of his hands from yours; brushing several strands of hair away, just so that he could continue his undisturbed focus upon your features.

"There's no one to blame, tesoro."

"I'm simply a man in love."

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are alright. all rights reserved.

[cyrdling]

Dating Caspian the Merman (OC)

a/n: first time writing for one of my oc's. i hope you guys like it. kinda got a little too deep into writing about the biology of mermaids, sorry lol

caspian isn't a prince or really all that important in his city. of course, he is important to some of the people there, but he doesn't have a whole lot of things to really do.

you'd meet him when you go down to the rocky shores at night to think. coincidentally, he's also there- kind of bored, of course, but he's looking up at the moon as he wishes he could speak to humans without being in danger of getting harpooned.

this is the only real reason he goes there at night instead of the day- he loves the sun, but he knows that people are not as kind as they seem.

either way, you go to the shore and see him as he's laying on a large, flat rock. once you see him, you HAVE to reassure him that you're not gonna hunt him or tell anyone about him or else he'll be terrified. once calm though, he's pretty sweet.

he's got silver-white hair, long, slender fingers, soft blue eyes, and ears that are slightly pointed. he's also got very pale, almost to the point of being kind of blue, skin. on certain spots (where skin would usually be rough, like elbows) he's got pastelly blue scales that become more frequent as you look down at his hips, then his legs (or, really, the lack of legs. he's got a fish tail.) his hair is kinda brittle since he's in the ocean, but it's soft considering his situation. his nails are a little unnaturally sharp, but they seem to be dulled by how he uses them to move around on land (aka: the rocks act as makeshift nail files) and he's got a long scar across his stomach (it looks as though it quite literally tore through him) and he's got top surgery scars that are a lot paler pink, but are still visible.

on his body, he's got a few tattoos, as well- in my mind, mermaids use tattoos to signify which kingdom and family they're from- kingdom on the left wrist, and family on the right. wrists are very vulnerable, so showing the family and kingdom tattoos is customary before doing practically anything else, such as fighting for one's honor or whatever. caspian hasn't gotten a real job yet, so he hasn't gotten a tattoo for that- although his father is a successful coral and kelp farmer. job tattoos go on the sternum, as close to the heart as possible- caspian has a few ideas for his though. he's very good at the spear, so maybe he'd be a warrior or hunter of some kind.

according to mythology, mermaids and mermen were made by an angered witch who combined a village with fish to make them fish people. this means they have both lungs (above water breathing) and gills (underwater breathing). i don't really know how this works so just imagine its some like, second lung situation or whatever idk.

mermaids and mermen have different metabolisms to humans- they gain and lose weight very easily, and this can depend on the temperature of the water, how stressed they are, or what they eat.

his society is also highly matriarchal, as well- when he transitioned, his mother genuinely hated him since she thought he was betraying him. his father, though, understood after a while. shortly after their final argument, caspian's mother was harpooned by a human, and died in the cradle of the waves. this society believes burials at sea are honorable, so they did the ceremony without a body.

in order to like, date you, i don't think caspian would pull an ariel and get legs. he'd actually find a way to help you breathe underwater (like through a spell or something) so you can go into the ocean with him. he's very considerate!

overall 10/10 but i think he wouldnt know that seawater hurts your lungs the first time he'd drag you under, so he'd feel VERY VERY bad

thank you for reading! PLEASE tell me if you guys like it, teehee

swan banners by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

support banner by @saradika-graphics

[moralesmilesanhour]

if you believe in me - 04.2

summary: a very brief intermission. between aaron and his father, miles wonders who he takes after more. wc: 1.5k a/n: this chapter is me trying to get back into the swing of things before the next major plot point (!!!) so this might feel a little slower and more introspective. thanks for reading! (reblog with ur favorite comic or manga if u want idk) taglist: @shuna-boin @aloraangelix @vhstown @sillykirb @proudgojofucker @weirdducky17 @milesandcorysupermacy prev. next

BOOM!

Miles hits the ground shoulder-first with a dull thud, the storage building bursting into flames behind him.

I’m gonna feel that one later, he thinks as he rolls to his feet and back into a sprint. But Oscorp’s gonna feel it, too.

With a leap and a shot of his grappling hook, it’s not long before he’s back on the sidewalk, with Aaron waiting around the corner. The older man has completely retired the Prowler suit now.

“Not bad for your first solo run,” he nods. “Could still be a lil’ quicker, but you’ll pick it up.”

Miles twists the joints of his metal claws. The steel is still shiny and new, save for a bit of soot from the explosion. The purple glow disappears as they power down with a quiet whir and detach to reveal the human flesh underneath. They work like a charm so far.

It’s been two weeks, but he hasn’t gotten to use them - Aaron has yet to send him on a mission where he’d have to. He wants to ask his uncle about it, ask why he let him do all that welding and tinkering if the claws were just for show. But Miles knows that if he does, the man’s brows would furrow and he’d get a stern speech about not getting too eager about that sort of thing. And he’d be right. 

So, like every other night, Miles says nothing but “thanks”.

“And what’s this one about?” 

You pointed at a comic sitting on the far side of Miles’ bed. On the cover stood a man wearing what looked like some imagined version of an “African” headdress. He was shirtless and dressed in nothing but shorts and brightly-colored boots, like the costume of a wrestler. The upper half of his face was obscured by a mask with white eyes tied around his head. The flat colors and dark lines make it look old, likely from the 80s or early 90s. Above the man on the cover was the title in bold graphic font: Anansi.

“You don’t know ‘Anansi’?” Miles asked with wide eyes before shaking his head. “Nah, we gotta fix that.”

He threw what he was reading aside, hovering his hand over the pile of comics until he located the very first issue. 

“So Anansi is like, this spider that gets turned into a human who has the abilities of a spider. Y’know, climbing up walls and shit.”

“Does he shoot webs out of his ass?”

“That’s not how that works, and no. Anyway, he’s got spider powers and he beats the bad guys by being a trickster instead of just brute force.”

You took the comic from him and began leafing through the worn pages, frankly more interested in the art than the plot. The sharp lines and crosshatching remind you of Miles’ sketches. You turned to Miles and held it up once you were finished looking at it.

“Can I borrow it?” 

There’s a shadow of uncertainty that crosses his face for a moment as you await his answer. 

“Mmm…I dunno. I’ve had that thing since I was ten. You gonna be careful with it?”

You place a hand over your heart. 

“Promise.”

He snorts, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. I’ll let you have it for a week, sound good?”

“Good.”

Miles remembers that he’s supposed to ask for his comic back on the way home, the two metal claws tucked safely into his backpack.

He sneaks a glance at his uncle, and tries to copy his stride when he walks. It looks easy, but there’s a rhythm to it. Miles keeps his gaze low, but his steps lively. The key is not to show the sweat, as they say. All of one’s effort goes into making it look like there’s no effort at all. 

Aaron looks over at his nephew, and chuckles.

“Remind me of your old man when you walk like that,” he says. 

Miles grins good-naturedly. Guess the sweat shows. But it’s fine, for now.

“What’s that mean?”

“When we was young, we used to watch the older kids walk out the corner store and try to copy ‘em. The way your pops did it…”

The man’s shoulders shook with laughter at the memory.

“He kinda looked like, like he was marching almost. Just stomping down that sidewalk!”

Aaron began to demonstrate, making his steps quicker and heavier.

“I look like that?” 

Miles wrinkled his nose and began to tone down his swaying.

“Exactly like that. Shit’s kinda amazing, really. Genetics.”

“I don’t think that’s how genetics work.”

“Oh yeah?” Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Then how come I got you stealing like my pops and me, and in my colors?”

Miles laughed, “But this is good stealing!”

“You got a point there.”

Aaron lifted his gaze upward towards the skyline. The moon was out in full tonight.

“Did y’all make good money, at least?”

“Sure did. Sometimes it was the only money that came in, that’s why we ain’t stop.”

There’s a beat of silence. Miles pats his left pocket to make sure the wad of cash is still there, and wonders if his uncle had to do the same thing, or if he kept it in a fanny pack or briefcase.

“So what made you finally give it up?”

“Oh, that one’s easy. Jeff did it for your mom. Hard to keep secrets with a baby on the way.”

Miles tried to picture a younger version of his father – less facial hair, no eye bags, better eyesight, probably – looking a pregnant Rio in the eye as she broke the news. He looks into her gentle face and…yes, there. Right there is when he decides it’s over. 

Even without the whole parenting thing, it probably killed him inside to have to lie to her every night about where he’s been. Miles gets it.

“What about you?”

Aaron shrugged.

“Couldn’t leave my nephew hanging.”

He had knocked on Miles’ door after a few weeks of radio silence and found the kid lying in bed, surrounded by dirty clothes and snack wrappers. The room smelt of stale sweat, the clothes piled up on the floor impossible to get through, so Aaron elected to stand just outside.

Miles looked up, and suddenly the man understood what had Rio so frantic on the phone. 

The boy’s gaze was…vacant. Like he was looking through him, at something far off in the distance. There were no words comforting enough to turn the lights back on behind those eyes. So Aaron had done the next best thing:

“Go wash up, we goin’ out.”

Miles doesn’t remember it that way. He hardly remembers anything from that period of time between the funeral and his uncle barging into his room. Just a long stretch of gray, and then the door cracks open, then he’s in the shower realizing how long his hair’s gotten, and soon he’s dodging the punching bag in Aaron’s apartment, carrying crates back and forth and maybe blowing some up on occasion. 

He knows in his head that he’s doing this to hurt the pockets of invisible men hiding in their glass skyscrapers and high-rise offices, and he’s as angry at them for sucking the life out of his neighborhood as he’s always been. 

But it had started with the door, cracked open just enough for his uncle’s face to poke through. Otherwise, Miles might’ve been content to lie there and become one with his mattress as he missed another week of school.

He wonders if his father went on those runs because he, too, looked into his future and hadn’t the slightest idea as to what he was looking at. 

Miles’ thoughts are interrupted when his phone buzzes in his pocket. You have his Anansi issue.

“So this is all you do in your free time, then? Comics and robots?”

Miles has his nose in another shounen manga.

“Is that a bad thing?”

You remember the helmet, and the parts set in neat little rows. And the tarp in Uncle Aaron’s car.

“Not for the most part. More interesting than what I do.”

Miles finally looks up, and squints. “What do you do in your free time?”

“I braid hair,” you reply with a bit of pride. “Pretty good at it, too.”

“Mm-hm, that’s what they all say before they fuck yo’ shit up,” he jokes, earning an issue of Jujutsu Kaisen to the face.

“Ow!”

“Shut up, with them fuzzy ass braids.”

Miles gasped dramatically. “You said they looked nice!”

“Looked. Past-tense.”

“Chill on me, my mom didn’t have time to re-do ‘em this week.”

Seeing an opportunity, your eyes lit up.

“Ooh, let me–”

“No.”

Miles narrowed his eyes at you.

“Aw, come on! You have so much hair, it could be fun! And you said you’d let me.”

You reached out to touch one of Miles’ overgrown braids but ended up swiping the air as he dodged your hand.

“I said ‘maybe’, and now the answer is no. You’re gonna ‘have fun’ in my hair? Like you ‘had fun’ with my t-shirt? I know you stole it, by the way.”

“I up-cycled it.”

“Cutting a shirt in half is not up-cycling, and you’re not touching my head.”

“You're so mean.”

[ronearoundblindly]

A, K, & Z for my rare grimy man? 🥺

*While I have seen Snowpiercer a few times, I don't know the whole culture of the train thoroughly, so let's just say Curtis is A) really used to crowded spaces with no privacy, B) somewhere cold as hell, and C) still has very little, i.e. not a bunch of different clothes or idk soap and shit...

Prompts are from this dirty ask game, and they do get somewhat graphic (am I considered a hoe yet? i've written 18 of these suckers). MINORS DNI. You know I love you, you know I'll create content for you, but this isn't it! You want the Light Masterlist.

A - Alone Time

I believe Curtis's exact words would be "what fucking alone time?" but, sure, on the super rare occasion he gets to touch himself, here's how it goes.

He doesn't have access to porn. It's all imagination at this point.

His living space is so over-stuffed with people in bunks who, ya know, live their lives as best they can and so, yup, they have sex in those bunks and almost everyone can hear them. He can use those sounds in his imagination. Some are better than others.

What he imagines, though, is pure escapism.

He pictures someone soft and clean, they smell good, and they take all the time in the world just to look him in the eye when they touch him. There are no toys, just his own hands. He uses both. A recurring fantasy is (while he uses his weaker hand to jack off) teaching some innocent, sweet thing how to touch him. Gets him going, makes him a little wild to think about. Smidge of a corruption kink, this Curtis, but not in a mean way.

He wants someone all his own. Everything is shared and sparse here. He dreams of possessing someone, body and soul, because then they're his, unlike reality.

K - Kissing

Curtis may be desperate for some lovin' but he isn't a bully. This man hardly believes you're his, so he is completely adoring and slow. He wants to know what every possible way to touch you feels like. He holds your chin or cups your face to kiss you, softly, feather-light to start. You taste, smell, feel, and sound real; it's overwhelming and addictive.

He starts this slowly every single time you two kiss. Doesn't matter how nasty the fucking was the night before. Doesn't matter his mood. He really fucking likes these sweet, innocent kisses where you choose to go further, to pull him closer, to accept him into your body. Huge turn on for him.

(🥵 oh shit, I got myself, sweating now, give me a sec, yikes.)

There are some nights where those soft kisses are all he wants and needs in the world. Just the comfort and the escape of your little bubble of love is enough to soothe him to sleep, which is in and of itself a miracle. He's so tired of living on edge all the time...

Z - Zones

For warmth, as much of his (and your) body is covered at all times as much as possible. No one is naked during sex, not entirely. There aren't thick enough blankets to warrant that, and he's not going to lose a toe to frostbite simply to get his cock warmed. That's a bad trade-off. No deal.

Because of that, however, Curtis finds you touching those non-essential-to-sex-places highly erotic. There is no reason for you to have your bare hands way up by his shoulder blades. Sounds bizarre out of context, but he goes fucking berserk when you slither your grasp under his layers of shirts and dig your nails in just a bit. He loves that more than a goddamn blowjob, honestly.

Similarly, most of the back of him down to his thighs, at least half of his legs, and his feet have remained untouched by any human save himself since he was a kid. When his shitty, fourth-hand boots gave him horrible blisters, you scrounged up a bowl of warm water and washed his feet.

He fucking cried, and you thought it was because he was in pain. He's just never felt so loved and cared for in his miserable life. He still gets choked up thinking about that. He holds you that much tighter each time he remembers.

What areas does he love on you? Oh fuck, does he have to choose?

He can't possibly pick just one or two places. You're just all soft and all sensual. Nope, he can't pick favorites. He just can't. Although...one of your nipples seems more sensitive than the other, so maybe that? But he's not gonna give up any other bits! You can't make him. He will fucking fight for all of you.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Oh, hell, here comes another blorbo...

*faints*

[achilles-rage]

thirteen crows: chapter four

summary: buck finally runs into grace, and then buck and eddie surprise you in your apartment.

word count: 2.4k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: i purposely made this vague so you can choose who’s who when reader is blindfolded lol, but if you wanna know who i imagined them as just ask hehe<3 enjoy💋

warnings: smut, non-con (but reader enjoys it??idk how to tag this), buddie breaks into readers house<3, descriptions of violence/murder (nothing too graphic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

It was easy to get to this point. It didn’t take much to spike the not-so-secret drink Grace keeps under the bar counter during her shift. And it was easy to convince you to go over to Eddie’s for the night to hang out. 

They kept away from you for weeks; patiently waiting for a night that Grace has to work with Isaac. Every time they work together, Isaac walks her part of the way home; just until he gets to his own apartment, and then she’s alone the rest of the way. They know if they see Grace being rude to their sweet girl one more time, they won’t want to wait, so not seeing your pretty face is something they have to endure. They can’t risk being taken away from you.

They have everything meticulously planned. 

Grace is alone, at night, in a dangerous part of town. Check. 

The cameras in the alley placed almost halfway between Grace and Isaac’s house have mysteriously stopped working a couple weeks ago. Check.

Their soft girl is safely at Eddie’s house with many pictures taken of them and Christopher doing crafts, acting as an airtight alibi. Just in case. Check.

Now, all that’s left to do is wait.

Once Grace passes by the alley, barely even paying attention to her surroundings, Buck emerges from the shadows and grabs her. She tries to scream, but a large hand covers her mouth quickly, pulling her against a broad chest as she’s pulled deep into the alley. 

The last thing she sees is the mask. 

The last thing she smells is the metallic scent of her own blood.

“What are you?” These words are the last thing she hears. The voice is dark, and almost comes out as a growl as he holds the phone in one hand and the knife in the other.

“I’m nothing. I deserve this.” she stutters out, tears streaming down her face and mascara smudged all over her cheeks. Her last words. 

It took some coaching to finally get her to say the words; the proof is shown in the video, in the form of scrapes on her arms and legs, and the cuts littered across her pale skin, but it’s worth it.

Both Buck and Eddie know what she’s saying is true, even if she doesn’t quite believe it yet, and they want her to feel as worthless as she made you feel when she said those awful things to you.

As Buck is walking away, down the part of the street that he knows have no working security cameras facing the street, wiping the splatters of red off of his mask with his black sleeve, he thinks about you and Eddie. 

He imagines you laughing and smiling with him and Chris, and he smiles to himself. He imagines himself there, slowly spreading you open for them after Chris goes to bed, everyone's bellies full from your wonderful cooking. Having to make sure you’re completely silent as they mark you, the crimson falling down your pretty skin. 

His little family. Almost complete.

 Now all they need is for you to accept their love. Which shouldn’t be difficult now. Grace made you insecure, and now that she’s taken care of, they’ll be able to convince you that they want you. They’ll make sure you accept them. 

Buck is still running on pure adrenaline when he gets to Eddie’s house, waiting strategically in his jeep down the street until Eddie has driven you home and is back in his house. They sit on the couch, Buck’s phone held up between them as they listen to Grace's pleading and whimpering.

They know that they can’t wait any longer to have you, but they know they have to be careful. Again. They know they can’t do anything now; calling Eddie’s babysitter up so late and asking her to stay the night with Chris would be suspicious, especially when a body would turn up soon, killed around the same time.

So, the next night, when the body is found, they leave when Chris’s babysitter arrives. Their masks are already in Buck’s jeep, and they ride over to your house in silence, eagerly counting down the seconds until they can see their pretty girl.

You’re fast asleep when the front door to your apartment opens, but you don’t hear it; you’re sleeping soundly with alcohol coursing through your veins. You had found out about Grace today, and while she was rude to you, she had been your friend at one point. To self sooth, you poured a few too many shots, and are now sprawled out on your back on your bed, breathing heavily.

Your eyes shoot open when you feel a warm hand covering your mouth and cold metal held to your throat. Your body tenses as you stay completely still, barely able to make out the two masked men standing directly over you.

“You scream and I’ll slit your throat. You got that, sweetheart?” the smaller one hisses quietly into your ear. You nod quickly, keeping your mouth shut as you look up at them with bloodshot eyes. They almost feel bad; they knew you’d be upset about that bitch’s death, but not this upset.

The other man chuckles darkly at your submissive demeanor, then reaches down to your oversized t-shirt, lifting the hem of it with his knife. You shiver as you feel the cold metal moving up your skin. If he pressed any harder, you’re sure he’d draw blood, and in your dazed state, you’re still sound enough to understand that that’s probably what he wants. 

“No panties? You were just waiting for us, weren’t you baby?” you hear the smaller one ask in a condescending tone. You let out a shaky breath, and although you know you should be terrified, that you should scream and hope someone calls the police, you can’t bring yourself to. You’re not even sure if this is real. You’re only half sure that someone is actually in your apartment right now. All you know that is real right now, is the pool forming between your legs.

You know you shouldn’t be turned on right now, but the way they’re looking down at you, their heads slightly tilted as they examine you has your heartbeat quickening. And not just because they could kill you at any time.

They both look at each other for a split second before one man is grabbing your wrists and tying them to the bed, and the other is fastening a blindfold around your eyes. It’s tight, almost too tight, and although you squirm in their grip in a mix of surprise and fear, you still don’t scream.

“What a good girl for us.” one of them speaks. You think it’s the larger man, but you’re really not sure.

“You gonna keep being good for us, sweet girl?” the other one asks, and you nod quickly. You feel your legs being yanked apart by large hands, and you let out a quiet yelp. You feel a hand on your neck as soon as the noise escapes your throat, and the familiar cold metal dragging across your plush tummy lightly. A string of apologies tumble out of your lips before they can even scold you, and they smirk at each other; their masks having been discarded immediately after they know you were securely fastened to the bed.

You gasp quietly again when your shirt is yanked up, now bunching above your chest. Your nipples harden as the cold air hits your skin, but two warm palms grab your tits quickly, protecting you from the cold as they begin to massage you. You let out a low moan as the man tweaks your nipples, and your breath catches in your throat as the other man’s mouth attaches to your dripping cunt. 

The man that’s playing with your tits, you assume, as the other man is slowly moving his tongue through your glistening folds, shushes you quietly before his lips press searing kisses around your breasts. His hands are still squeezing and groping at your chest, as the other man’s tongue darts in and out of you desperately, nose nudging your clit in a way that has quiet whimpers threatening to escape your lips. 

You’re trying so hard not to make a sound. Your fear is heightening your pleasure as you struggle against the restraints, desperate to touch them.

Even as they work you closer and closer to the edge, you can barely even make out what’s happening. You’re still drunk, you’re sure of it, and with all the emotions swarming around your head with Grace’s death, you think that maybe this is some weird dream.

But, dream or not, you feel fucking incredible. And the real-not-real tongue fucking your greedy cunt is making you see stars.

You’ve also never had this much attention focused on your tits, and with the way the man is tweaking and sucking on your nipples, you feel like you’d come just with his touch alone.

Your breathing is coming out in laboured pants, and you whimper quietly as you bite your lip, knowing what could happen if you make too much noise.

The man attached to your core moans when he feels your pussy clench, and he inserts two fingers into your core, curling his fingers as he sucks on your clit. 

“You gonna come for us sweet girl?” You nod desperately, and both men chuckle. You gasp softly as you feel the knife against your throat, almost enough to slice your soft skin.

“You’re not gonna tell a single person about this, yeah? Promise us that, and we’ll let you come. How’s that sound, gorgeous?” one speaks.

“Yes, yes, yes. Promise. Please.” you plead, trying not to move your head. One wrong move, and you’re sure the knife will cut your throat.

You come not long after, the knife taken from your throat as the attention is focused back on your perfect tits. Your thighs squeeze the head between your thighs, and the man lets out a low growl, teeth grazing your clit and large hands holding your thighs apart as he works you through your orgasm.

Once he’s licked up all your juices, they both remove themselves from you and stand up with smirks. It’s obvious that one man wishes he could’ve tasted your sweet cunt, but by the sounds of your heaving chest and the sight of your quivering thighs, they know they should let you rest. 

The other man is quick to bring their lips together, letting both of them taste your sweet release as their mouths collide in a sloppy kiss.

You feel on edge as you lay there completely bare, your cunt pulsing as the cold air offers a stark contrast to the fire under your skin. You swallow when you finally feel a hand on your throat and a knife moving down the valley of your breasts.

“You tell anyone, and we’ll gut you. You got that, sweet girl?” you nod quickly, holding your breath.

“Promise, I won’t.” you babble, mind reeling and confused. 

The blindfold and restraints are yanked off of you, but not before two gentle kisses are placed on your lips. While one is sweeter, almost loving, the other is rough, and almost desperate, and you know that both men have just kissed you.

You open your eyes quickly, but you’re met with pitch black. They’ve obviously unplugged the little light you keep in your hallway, as it gave you just enough light to see them when you first woke up. Either way, you’re sure that seeing them would do you no good, and your legs are so weak that you can’t even begin to think about getting out of bed.

You fall asleep after a while, unsure of how to feel, and the next morning when you wake up, you’re not even sure that it happened.

Your head is pounding as you sit up, and as you look around your room. Everything is in place. The only thing that makes you think it could be real is the mess between your legs, but even then, it could’ve been a dream that made you very excited. 

You continue on with your day, getting ready for work, and thinking deeply about it. You know that real or not, you can’t tell anyone. On one hand, if it was real, they’d “gut you.” And you’re sure they’d keep that promise. But on the other hand, if it wasn’t, you never think you’d live down telling anyone that you had a sex dream about the two masked men terrorizing LA.

You’re so emotional about everything from the last 24 hours that you convince yourself that you made it up. No need to be afraid, you tell yourself, it was just a dream, right?

The words from Grace are still in the back of your mind, anyway. If they were going to do this to someone, why you?

They watch you through a screen for most of the day, thankful that they have the day off and can spend the day taking care of their sweet girl.

They want to make sure you’re not too shaken up. You clearly enjoyed their touch, but they want to make sure that you’re not scared beyond return. They know they threatened you; they had to. But they’d never actually hurt you. 

They’re pleased when you continue your day like normal, making no attempt to reach out to anyone. They think at this point, it may be easier to isolate you, just a little. Without anyone else, you’ll cling to them, and they can assure you that you’re not crazy. You’re gorgeous, and sweet, and smart, and if they get you all to themselves, they know you’ll realize how nice their attention is.

You’ll accept the protection that they’re giving you. The stability. They dream of the day when you know everything they’ve done, and like it. Maybe you’d even join them; telling them about who wronged you and beg them to do something about it.

They don’t think you’d ever actually take part in it; you’re far too sweet for it, but that’s okay. They’re more than willing to do all the work. Just for you.

next chapter

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[onyourowndaisymae]

Yoo I have two request which I’ll send the other one separately but I am in an ANGSTY mood rn sooo yah also been binging ur headcanons and stuffs and I just love the way you write ?? It’s so entertaining lol

AnywY the actual request: can you write like a one shot or headcanons if you prefer of mc who is struggling after the belphie incident ?? Like they feel like they’ve mostly forgiven him and can act normally around him and they’re friends and take naps together but sometimes the flash back just HITS THEM and they have nightmares and panic attacks that can be so bad sometimes someone needs to get Simeon to calm them down. Maybe something of how the brothers react/treat mc and belphie? Idk I’m just thirsting for like MEGA ANGST rn bc my dad made me cry little bit lmao 😭

it comes at night

hello anon! i'm terribly sorry you're in such an angsty mood, though i thank you for all the love-- and for sending this request right as these ideas were on the front of my mind. it genuinely makes me so happy to see people enjoying my work, and it makes all the writer's block and such worth it. i cannot express enough how much i love seeing all the comments, reblogs, etc. as people engage with my work.

anyways. i'm not sure how i feel about this piece, especially with how LONG it ended up being, but maybe that's just my mushy brain talking after looking at it too long. regardless-- i hope you enjoy (well, y'know, in like a sad and angsty way).

synopsis: you thought you would be able to move on like all the others. your body was healed, your anxiety tucked neatly behind a mental wall built to keep you safe. yet something in you was stuck. you couldn't just move on. you were trapped in a battle between your friendship with belphegor and the fear gnawing at your brain as you remembered what exactly he did to you. when the dam finally breaks, your whole brain floods with terror, until you're swept away with it. nobody can save you now.

genre: angst, no happy end, just a big ol spoonful of sadness

word count: ~3.1k

content warnings: chapter 16 spoilers, graphic(?) discussions of death, depictions of panic attacks, nightmares, mc progressively getting worse from fear + lack of sleep

it's funny how time works. 

you'd been around your fair share of years. you’d grown, you’d changed, you’d spent your entire life looking toward the future you had planned. then you, a mere human, were yanked into an unfamiliar world. you spent an entire year in the devildom– a year that simultaneously dragged on and flew by– and came out the other side a new person. a single year in the devildom has changed you more than the human realm has your entire life. time was a mischievous thing, always leaving you chasing behind in a fruitless pursuit of something you’ll never quite understand.

but, she also brings blessings with her. they say that time heals all wounds. you've always agreed with that sentiment. scraped knees and adolescent broken hearts are swept away with the passing days, trailing further and further behind you until one day you forget to look back and remember them. the pain scribbled down on diary pages or cried into pillow cases no longer stings like a fresh burn. these things are nothing but scars now. time has a special way of patching you up, of rubbing your back until the tears clear up and you can finally see again. that is how it's always been. 

where is time when you need it? 

she hasn't quite abandoned you, this much is true. cuts and bruises heal over the passing days. your hair and nails still grow. your body still changes, slowly but surely, marching onwards week after week. yet your mind is trapped in stasis. you struggle to break free, but at times the rot consumes you whole, until you’re crying under the covers and begging from respite from the memories. 

on the worst nights, you find yourself in the attic again, watching the door between you and belphegor swing open. you watch yourself march towards death.

you can still feel his hands around your neck, digging his claws into your fragile human skin like you're made of sand. the scent of blood-- your own blood, on the floors, on the walls, leaking from your torso and staining your clothes a permanent maroon-- still clings to the inside of your nose. even your wildest dreams could not erase the sight of his smug grin, the way his eyes lit up looking at your battered body.

no one person should have to carry the weight of realizing they're going to die. that's what you thought about when your body hit the bottom of the stairs, when belphegor tossed you down from the attic with a harsh laugh and punted your limp body into the entrance hall. you thought about how unfair this all was. you were just trying to help. you thought you were doing the right thing.

one of the worst parts of your untimely demise was watching the others react. the voices pool together in your head, like the colors of the rainbow twisting together on the surface of an oil spill. asmo's panicked shriek blends into satan's angry shouts, desperate to understand what's going on. lucifer's yelling almost drowns out the fearful cries coming from levi, held back by a very silent beel. 

but above all of that, you remember mammon. your first man, the first demon who took a chance on the defenseless little human, rushing to your side and gathering you in his arms like you were about to break. his hand on the side of your face, the tears streaming down his face, the shaky, desperate voice assuring you that you'll be okay and begging you to hang on, okay? please don't leave me. you can't remember if he was shaking or if it was your body's last ditch effort to stay conscious-- maybe both. your trembling fingers intertwined with his. words came out of your mouth, and you're not sure what exactly you said, but he only cried harder in response. 

and then, as your eyes shut for the final time, you woke at the bottom of the attic stairs. you had cheated death. 

your price? you had to carry the memories. 

the world kept spinning. days passed in the devildom. you returned to school, kept on top of your homework, spent your days in the house of lamentation alongside the seven demon brothers. you even got to know belphegor as he navigated his return home. he quickly grew fond of you. that, in and of itself, was jarring. but you returned each and every smile with one of your own. his actions were rooted in his own grief for his sister, you knew, and for that you could not fault him. you helped him repair the severed relationships between him and his elder siblings, stitching the family back together like a prized quilt until the seams of betrayal were sufficiently hidden. 

time is a traitorous bitch. why did she choose now to leave your wounds bare and bleeding?

everyone moved on but you. everyone got to wake up in the mornings without a nagging anxiety holding them back. the others could hang out with belphegor day in and day out without a growing feeling of dread popping up when you think you're safe. 

he killed you. he was grieving. your blood drenched the entryway floors as he laughed. he has grown. you watched the light leave mammon's eyes as you slipped away. belphie has been nothing but kind to you since that day. you fucking died. 

you wish your mind could pick a side. did you forgive him, or did you resent him? was he your friend, or your killer? these answers evaded you in the dead of night as you struggled to sleep again. it was becoming more common for you to lose hours of rest to these nagging fears. who are you? are you even you anymore? did the switch in timelines scatter your atoms across countless universes, leaving the you that looks back at you in the mirror nothing more than a hollow shell? 

you thought that you could keep your mind on a tight leash, keep your cards close to your chest as you continued to live with the brothers. you were wrong.

the first meltdown came during a nap with belphie. you had grown to trust him-- you thought you trusted him-- enough to sleep around him. he'd coax you every so often into an afternoon nap. always in the light of day, always your choice. and for many afternoons, you were perfectly content with this arrangement. belphie was warm and cuddly, a perfect companion for a lazy afternoon. he had this way of making you feel safe as you slept-- the nightmares couldn't come when he was snuggled up next to you, when you were sure his actions were ones of affection and not another trick to gain your trust.

one afternoon, while the sun was beginning to set, you stirred under the warmth of the blankets. the body next to yours lingered close, steady breaths lulling you back to dreamland. you could stay like this forever, you thought.

and then you felt it. the gentle graze of a familiar cow tail against your skin.

something inside of you, a dam you didn't even know was there, snapped. a hot flash of panic rose up your throat as your whole body jerked away from the feeling. your eyes shot open and you found yourself in the last place you needed to be right now: the attic. you pulled yourself out of bed before your brain could catch up. colors flashed across your vision as a consequence. you whipped around, disoriented and upset, and spotted a sleeping belphie in the bed where you once were.

a sleeping, demon belphie.

the familiar curve of his horns made your throat spasm as you tried to breathe. the colors flashed in your vision again-- oh god, what a terrible time to be left defenseless-- as your brain tried to drag you back to that day. you could practically see his face shift from relief to malicious, insidious joy as he began to attack you.

"hehe... does it hurt? finding it hard to breathe? i'm sure it must be very unpleasant."

please. please no.

" i have to say, seeing a human face twisted in pain like this... why, it's so much fun that i can barely stand it! i... i can't contain the laughter!"

you weren't quite sure when you hit the ground, but it was loud enough to wake belphegor from his slumber. he peeled his body off the mattress, slow and dazed, as he looked for you.

"mc? what're you... what's going on?"

please don't. this can't be happening.

your lungs collapsed from the weight of your own panic. you gasped-- once, twice, as your vision went in and out. were you bleeding? your hand loosely brushed at the front of your clothes, but couldn't process whether that was blood or your vivid imagination. were you even breathing? your head felt light and heavy at the same time. the wires in your brain were all crossed, sending both resuscitation and shutdown signals to each part of your body. this feeling... this was too familiar.

were you dying?

"mc, what's going on?"

you came face to face with belphegor. your friend, your killer. the demon who had lured you up to this very attic to kill you, now gripping your shoulders as interrogated you inches from your face.

you screamed. you screamed until your brain shut off completely, leaving you in an inky pit of darkness as your consciousness slipped away.

the house was in disarray for several days. apparently, lucifer came in shortly after you passed out, mammon at his heels, to save the day. you woke up later in his bed, the room cold and empty, with a throbbing head and a tear stained pillow. you stumbled out into his office to find him at his desk, lost in some paperwork like always. the solemn look he gave you as your eyes met told you everything you needed to know.

from this day forth, your fear was now your constant companion.

nobody in the house of lamentation knew how to move forward. not you, not the brothers, not the widening gap growing between you all with each passing day spent in emotional limbo. finally, lucifer called everyone to a family meeting where, over the course of an hour or two, everyone came to an agreement to acknowledge what had happened and why, promised to be mindful of this trauma that you're carrying, and move forward like you requested.

silent days slowly but surely filled back up with laughter again. the brothers came back to your side at their own pace-- asmo first, within a matter of hours, then mammon shortly after, then the others in the following days.

belphegor was the last to come around. his silence spoke volumes about his guilt. he had no clue how to comfort you. he'd do anything to repent for his actions. yet that was the way that life worked, didn't it? some actions simply cannot be undone.

but you didn't let that stop you. despite the panic that closed your throat every time you saw him for the next month, you slowly earned his friendship again. you assured him that the attic incident was a one time thing, the remnants of a lost nightmare blending into your consciousness as you awoke.

until it wasn't a one time thing.

the nightmares crept up on you. the first one happened, of course, that same night, as you thrashed and wept into lucifer's pillows. then a week later, another. a week and a half after that, another. the frequency eventually became higher and higher, until you started planning your sleep schedule (or lack thereof) around your new insomniac tendencies. but even you couldn't manage to stay awake forever.

on a bad night, you'd wake up in tears, crying weakly to yourself as you tried to coax yourself back to bed. on worse nights, you'd shoot up out of bed, limbs tingling in fear, opting to spend the rest of the night in the common room until the others woke for the day. on the worst night, you finally broke. you shattered worse than you could have imagined.

you finally collapsed into bed, body shutting down after a three days of minimal sleep. you were starting to get shaky from the lack of rest, and your lack of appetite was upsetting the others. you crawled under the covers and let your brain slip out of your hands and off to dreamland.

what a fool you were to think you'd get by without nightmares.

visions of demonic teeth tearing at your flesh filled your head. you tried to run away, tried desperately to wake yourself up, but their claws sunk into your flesh. the pain was vivid, was real. memories of your death lived underneath your skin, ready to resurface in the dark of night when there was no escape. you fought back as best you could, kicking and screaming and trying to run, but you were no match for the supernatural strength of your demons. you eventually gave in, an act of learned helplessness, and surrendered yourself to your worst nightmares.

you woke up choking on your own tears. heaving, gasping breaths tried to save you, mixing with coughs as your body struggled to hang on. the tears finally gave way to the memories-- hot blood dripping from your torso, screaming faces begging you to stay, your head going fuzzy as your vision followed--and your screams escaped without a fight.

a mixed cacophony of voices came flooding in the room. you'd be touched by the gesture, seeking comfort in the arms of your dearest friends, if your brain hadn't reminded you that they were demons as well. nightmarish beasts with fangs and claws, predators built to rip your soft flesh from your bones and leave you to die like roadkill.

you felt a hand on your shoulder. who's was it? you could not tell. your first and only instinct was to scream for mercy, hot tears streaming down your face as mammon's hurt expression moved back out of your line of sight. your chest heaved with effort. it felt like your whole body was caving in on itself. you didn't even realize you were shaking as you curled your body into a ball. your side hit the mattress with a pathetic thud and you wept, bitter and fearful, as a panic attack kept you trapped in its grip.

you don't know how long you stayed curled up like that, wordless cries echoing from your room and into the hallway, but eventually the sound of approaching footsteps caught enough of your attention to forget the panic, even if just for a moment.

"hey, it's okay," a familiar, comforting voice approached, cutting through the fear like a moonlight on a stormy night. "mc, it's me, it's simeon. it's going to be okay."

you felt the bed shift under the weight of someone sitting down, and you blindly threw your body at the person before checking to see if it was really him. it took you a few moments to raise your head, and when you did, you saw him: simeon, your angel, blue eyes full of worry as he met your gaze.

you cried in his arms until you fell into a fitful, dreamless sleep.

the next morning was miserable, to say the least. breakfast was tense. they all watched you like a hawk, like you were a powder keg about to explode with one wrong move. you couldn't blame them. you were afraid of your own emotions, and on some level, you were afraid of them. your trauma was making you afraid of the very people you cared about the most. these brothers had welcomed you into their home, took care of you as you adjusted to life in the devildom, and yet you couldn't hold eye contact without breaking in to a cold sweat.

the only person who did not watch you was belphegor. he was nowhere to be found during breakfast, nor dinner, nor breakfast the following day. you tried to seek him out, but somehow the avatar of sloth had become a skilled sneak in his silence.

you finally caught him alone on day four of radio silence. you both had stayed home without realizing the other had also skipped school that day-- you, from the lack of sleep eating at your brain, and belphegor, with his usual routine of missing class to nap at the house of lamentation. he was curled up on the couch in the common room, basking in the warmth of the fireplace in his slumber. you decided to wait for him to wake up. you sat down on the couch opposite of the one where he rested and watched him, quietly, like he'd disappear if you dared to blink.

creepy? yes. but your brain was long ruined by sleep deprivation and gnawing anxiety to worry about such trivial things.

when he finally stirred, you gently called belphegor's name. he took a moment to finally look at the source of the voice, but when he did, his body froze as the two of you made eye contact. a few moments passed in silence. finally, he sat up and began to make a move to leave.

"wait."

he stopped, but his gaze did not meet yours. you rose from your seat and joined him on the couch. the youngest pulled his legs in, twisting his body into a defensive little ball, and countered your next sentence before you could even open your mouth.

"you shouldn't be here with me."

"i think i'm old enough to make decisions for myself."

he shifted uncomfortably in the silence. you spoke again.

"i miss you. and i'm sorry."

he scoffed to himself and stared at the fireplace. "don't know why you think you should be apologizing to me. i'm the one that's the problem."

"you're not a problem, belphie. i never meant to make you feel like one."

every hair on your body stood on end. your hands trembled against your wishes, so you sat on them to stay focused. you had to do this. you had to keep moving forward.

"i hurt you, mc. you're afraid i'm going to do it again."

you sighed-- it came out more shaky than you would have liked-- and looked down. how had it come to this? how had someone you'd grown to hold so dear become a stranger again?

"i don't want to stop being friends. i don't like when you avoid me."

"you still get nightmares, don't you?"

you pause. his icy gaze on the side of your head sent you into a cold sweat.

you smiled-- it felt more like a grimace, personally-- and prayed it didn't come across insincere. your fingers carefully intertwined with his. he met your gaze. you were thankful he couldn't see the way your chest tightened when you made eye contact. 

"i'm okay, belphie," you lied. 

this fear was going to be the death of you. 

[zhaohuis-lost-walnut]

Suffering in QJJ

[vague spoilers idk]

I saw a post the other day and I've been thinking about it a lot. It was literally one sentence in a multi paragraph post but it lingers in my mind none the less. Someone shared their opinion that sometimes they feel QJJ wallows in the sorrows and pain of its characters. As someone who likes media that delves into dark themes, their take really stuck with me because, in a way, I disagree.

The narrative definitely isn't shy about giving the sadder parts of character's lives a spot light, but it's never felt "edgy" to me. It's always felt very purposeful to me. I know the victimization of women is a touchy subject for a lot of people, but it's also realistic given the setting and the types of psychopaths in positions of power. But what I think makes me hesitant to slap the "fridging" sticker on QJJ is it has multiple female characters literally address, fight within, or against the patriarchal society they live in.

None of the suffering any of the characters go through is taken lightly. Concubine Wei's murder is graphic, yes, but is clearly depicted as being horrific. Li Jianheng trembles as he asks if Xiao Chiye was behind it because even he's freaked out by it (which could also be a nod to Li Jianheng's past but I won't get into that just yet). Her death was cruel and ruthless; but once it's revealed who actually did it, it further shows how far that character is willing to go for their goals. Her death directly mirrors the perpetrator's characterization. And while, yes, this could be seen as a woman dying for the sake a man's development, her murder has greater implications for the entire narrative at hand. Her death isn't simply swept under the rug, but is acknowledged and scrutinized for the how it impacts many different people. From the beginning, Concubine Wei was a political pawn, but originally one for another woman! What?! The empress dowager was simply using her to get her hands on another puppet heir. Concubine Wei's fate was sealed from the beginning, which isn't me taking it lightly, but just that it doesn't feel like a case of "fridging" to me.

There are a couple chapters that discuss what happens to the women who get trafficked if they manage to escape; and while calling it a "hard read" is an understatement, it shows that the narrative clearly takes this problem seriously. The story doesn't flippantly use women's suffering as a simple plot device or shock value: It is depicted very realistically and is intrinsic to the story because of the happenings of their world. The narrative explains why the trafficking started, how it was able to fester to the point it is at present, and the different ways multiple forces tried to appease the issue. But what's most important to me is that the narrative doesn't diminish the victims to only being victims, but instead focuses on how the things these trafficked people went through affected them.

As for the various character's back stories, while a lot of them are painful to read, I also appreciate the depth it gives them. Now I WILL talk about Li Jianheng's past (but only a little). I had to put the book down for a bit after chapter 62 because it really recontextualized how I saw Li Jianyun and Li Jianheng's relationship. There are multiple characters that have been neglected by their families, but Li Jianheng's neglect shows that he was literally never given a chance to excel.

Throughout the narrative Li Jianheng is presented as this carefree good for nothing. But what his past shows us is that he wasn't given the tools to develop meaningfully for most of his formative years. And when he was finally "given the opportunity", he had been beaten down so much that he couldn't handle the struggle of learning, so he ran away. But his "laziness" just "proved" his family's suspicion and they stopped trying, completely giving up on him.

His past makes his attempts to learn from Hai Liangyi all the more powerful and inspiring to me. But it also serves as an incredible foil to Shen Zechuan. Shen Wei did everything in his power to make sure Shen Zechuan got little to no mental stimulation, and yet Shen Zechuan still craved knowledge. He would sneak out to listen to his brother's school and taught himself how to read a little bit. Honestly, their pasts are hauntingly similar. But the main difference is that practically any attention Li Jianheng got was negative attention, while Shen Zechuan got no attention at all. Li Jianheng believed the cruel things the people around said about him. While Shen Wei's hatred was clear, Shen Zechuan was left to his own devices and didn't have a cacophony of eunuchs making fun or him every single day.

Every character backstory gives us insight as to why they are the way that they are (as they should lol). Mu Ru's backstory makes it understandable how she could never allow herself to truly trust Li Jianheng, no matter how sincere his love is. Many characters have been taken advantage of and have various flavors of "I will never be under someone else's control again" and act as follows.

I know such sensitive subject matter can be uncomfortable for most people, and I will never fault someone for finding discomfort in it's precense. However, I do think it's important to recognize when such heavy topics are being explored in a genuine manner. I don't have a step by step blue print on "the right way" to discuss these things, but in my opinion, I don't get the vibe that the pain and suffering the characters go through is "wallowing" in it, but rather acknowledging and confronting it.

We see the consequences of characters' selfish actions. And we also see how those on the receiving end sometimes are given, take, or forge the opportunity to rise out of the ashes. And even those who couldn't, many of their deaths carry weight in one way or another.

None of the crazy stuff that happens to these characters feels forced to me. Whether it's presenting how evil a character can be or showing how resilient a character is, all of it feels meaningful to the story and taken seriously.

Once again, this is just my opinion and you can, of course, have your own interpretation. I really love this story and having read other books where the "dark content" is literally just torture p***. I don't think QJJ is that. Dark? Yes. But not violence for the sake of violence. Not suffering for the sake of suffering. I think QJJ is a good faith exploration of how these things effect people and the different ways they go about reforming the corrupt world around them. And bonus points cause they find love on the way <3

[babiebom]

What Kind of ~dere the bachelorette's would be

A/N:it's the girl's turn<3333 it took me 5ever to finish this for some reason. I'm only writing it now because i'm watching doctor who and need 2 different kinds of stimulation and i have no snacks tbh(doctor who started buffering so now im watching the little mermaid Im not trying to give play by play of me writing this but Im so hyped rn and its 2 in the morning)

TW: maybe some spoilers, maybe some cursing, idk yet nothing that bad! There is some brief mention of childhood trauma and abuse on Penny's part but nothing graphic.

Genre: Headcanons

WC: about 10 bullet points per person

Abigail

Hiyakasudere

Penny

Described as light-hearted and flirtatious, often mischievous and playful on the outside and constantly teases their loved one as a sign of affection.

Would playfully bully you to try and make her crush on you not obvious

Makes it painfully obvious to everyone but you

"This sunset is cool but you know whats cooler?" "What?" "My sword collection"

Probably smacks you when laughing

Smacks you when you do something funny

Laughs extra loud

"Lmao I'll fight you idiot"

You two probably get in trouble to playing around in serious situations

Invites you to the mines with her

Or to the woods past the wizards tower

You two probably get into trouble together and think its funny that you were attacked by slimes

Does make fun of you even when you get together

"Ew you have a crush on me that's so embarrassing"

Undere

described as a "yes-man" to their loved one no matter what the consequences are their devotion doesn't allow them to betray their loved one easily and is an extension of the Goudere characterization.

OR

Leah

A Kekkondere

Which is described as some who believes in love at first sight and wants to get married right away. They have a deep desire to remain close to the person they meet for better or worse and this can sometimes evolve into them becoming a yandere type

So I could not choose which she fit more so I will try to fit everything within 20

I feel like due to her being a more submissive type in my mind that she would 100 percent be a yes man

Especially with a woman like Pam as her mother.

She has probably learned that disagreeing with her led to consequences that she does not enjoy.

So due to her childhood trauma she is more likely to just agree with whatever you say

And even if you try and get her to actually say her own opinion I don't think she fully grows out of it but it develops into a more shes a yes man because she feels safe.

Does not matter what will happen to her you are her main priority now so it is whatever you say goes because this is her fairy tale ending

On the other hand I think she is on par with us fanfic girlies on how delusional she is

Spends time constantly reading romance novels and imagining herself as the female love interest or heroine

So when she meets you and is immediately attracted to you

It turns into oh yeah this is love at first sight

This is meant to be because look at how i feel

This is like in the books I read

And she wants to get married very quickly

Brings it up maybe once at the beginning of your relationship

If you dont agree she doesnt say anything again

Just tries to manipulate you into marrying her quickly by doing wifey things

She will put it on you and make you wanna marry her

Will have you forever and ever just don't try to leave because she will enter yandere territory

Deredere(explained on Emily's part because I did hers first)

Honesty I thought none of these fit her thoroughly

Shes too....normal I guess?

At least to fit these categories

She's literally just an artsy girl i don't know

Like shes a creative but not delusional like Elliott so yandere is out of the question

Especially because her last relationship moved at a pace she disliked and was going to restrict her and what she wanted to do

So obviously shes not going to be the type of partner to hold you back in any aspect

But shes not going to let you run over her

Shes just a stable adult

Love that for her tbh

Could never be me where can I learn to become a Leah?

Emily

Deredere

Described as someone who is energetic, kind, and caring and while they show their affection to their loved one they can still hold normal relationships with others.

The sanest one here

Would not let herself get swept up in romance to the point of where its her whole life

There are other things she has to worry about

Like her sister, the wellbeing of all of her friends, being the chilliest woman on the planet

Emily tingz

Is the least likely to do something deranged because she knows that your relationship is stable and she doesn't need to do anything special

Because you love her for her and she loves you for you

Like yeah shes a weird(affectionate) person in general

But I also think she's the oldest out of the bachelorettes(hcs maybe?)

So she does have a clear head most of the time.

Amd she has probably been around and knows that she doesn't have to be crazy because trust is a good thing and luckily she has trust in you

Was probably insane in her younger years and its why shes chill now

Tbh overall a green flag

Maru

Hajidere

Haley

Described as someone shy and nervous around their crush and can socialize with anyone who is not them. Usually blushes or gets flustered at them making the first move

Gives me vibes like she will become super clumsy in front of you

And 100 times more socially awkward

Will stutter and trip over her words

Or drop things

Is the definition if the shy anime girl tbh

"O-oh Farmer! D-did you s-see that?"

I cringed writing that pls

Like it isn't very apparent in the game she just gives me these vibes

Especially because she does sort of go on about her sciencey stuff but i think that's just her being a nerd

I feel like she would be fine before she has a crush

But the second she realizes her feelings it becomes a problem

Obviously you notice but I think you would be too nice to say anything

Unless you're an Abigail type then ofcourse you say something

Becomes dumber the longer you are in her space because you're so attractive and now she cannot breathe

Mayadere

described as someone who is usually the antagonist who switches sides after falling in love with the main character. Usually first appears hostile or intimidating but a change of heart allows them to reveal their true feelings later on

Mostly this because I think she's a butch

But then she becomes cute after getting to know the farmer

Honestly I did not really like her and wanted to fight her up until I actually started gaining hearts with her

So I feel like this fits totally because like

She was the antagonist of my story at least

And she became cute and lovable the second she started feeling feelings

Like with one of her heart events

You literally take pictures with animals

She gets mud in her hair and doesn't even complain like

How she got me on her side Idk

Would probably be the type of girl to be like

Oh farmers here? And then very loudly say things like

"Oh yeah i could TOTALLY grow a few crops no big deal AT ALL"

"Did they hear it? You think they want me to move in yet? Do you think they're in love with me yet? Of course they are i'm Haley duh."

Not quite tsundere because she wouldn't do the whole "its not like I like you" thing

She would make it clear that she likes you but that she's the prize and not you

Sometimes is still hostile before she remembers she can let down her walls.

Its a journey to get her to say what shes actually thinking about certain things but you get there!

[artharakka]

Can I ask you where have you found inspiration for your art? For example I've noticed you have a very specific (and beautiful) way you draw jewelry and clothing. The shapes are very organic yet grounded at the same time, give a bit of a Nausicaä vibes, as well as art noveau meets iron age.

Honestly I could go on and on about the beautiful details of your art but I don't want to seem too fangirlish :D

Ohhh thank you I love those comparisons 🧡 Because I didn't even know those are the vibes I was going for but yeah that's great actually... This is like when one of you made a playlist inspired by my art... (I still have that saved btw! 🧡 And I still cannot believe!!). Here's a little Rhiam drawing with some jewelry she doesn't (yet) have in canon (earrings she does have but she cannot use them yet)

But what are my inspirations hmmmmmmm many! Idk even what all I have inhaled into my art but I try to list something (this got long so rest under cut):

Nature 🌿 I love both mundane (sparrows, plants growing from asphalt cracks, moss covered street signs... the little details) and grand formations that fill me with awe. There's something about things so vast that take my breath away. Like oceans, mountains, high cliffs, endless tundra, wind so strong you could lean against it, ancient stone that has been scraped visible by massive sheets of ice thousands of years ago. (But I'm guilty of not being that impressed by conventional beauty of average gardens. Aren't people tired of only finding planted blooming flowers beautiful!). Most often I'm drawing inspiration from nature familiar to me, that being Nordic/Scandinavian ones.

I already said nature but birds deserve a special mention! Agh I just love those funky little animals 🦅

Stories! I love making stories, I think they help me grasp and go over my thoughts. I love pouring myself into my characters, it makes them feel both personal but also makes it easier to talk about myself to my fellow storytellers. I'd love to do a long graphic novel or write a book one day, but I also love making ttrpg stories just for and with our little group 🧡 For a long time I felt kinda bad that I wasn't doing "real art" that wasn't just illustrations of my characters. But then I realised doing art for arts sake doesn't really inspire me. I don't want to do art that I'd think would be easily consumable nor do I have any great performance to create with my art. I just love to illustrate stories and tell stories through my art and I think that's great! I still love seeing and experiencing artworks that aren't this illustrative, I just don't have the motivation to do that myself. But I can get really excited of works like Emma Jääskeläinen's granite sculptures!

Other artists! There are two categories I think: 1) those whose work I've seen (usually irl) and whose technique or themes or symbolism facinates me. I usually don't want to create similar art, or replicate their style, or medium even. But there's something about them, a feeling of awe or they feel formidable. Or there's something clever about them that lets me have this sense of epiphany. For example, Jääskeläinen who I already mentioned, Marcel Dzama, Merja Palin, Helena Vaari, Marika Mäkelä, to name a few I've seen lately-ish. And then 2) there are artists whose stories and/or style inspires me and influences my art. One of the biggest inspirations to my softer line art style was and is @albabbgg. @serpentface has some really cool worldbuilding and designs, I think they were also a great influence to how I draw bodies these days. @wiltkingart has also very cool shapes and genders in his paintings. @sanctus-ingenium 's stories and art have been a huge inspiration lately. And to list a few others now that I started: @pangur-and-grim/@greer-art, @beidak-art, @elemei, @emilylorange, @pansylair, @cy-lindric, @psrj, @lokorum

And many others I'm probably forgetting now! I also have a side blog @sancta-cessatrix where I occasionally reblog cool art, check tags #art #inspiration