#I don’t draw them in my style nearly enough

[leonamelody3]

Magical Girls~

[rs-hawk]

do you have any tentacle stuff? im thinking maybe an ursula-style octopus merman bf

I don’t have anything tentacle like that but it does sound interesting so-

You always loved the beach so when you were able to book an Air BNB with a private beach, you were ecstatic. Finally you could relax on the sandy ground without anyone bothering you or worrying about having to move.

As you settled onto your towel with nothing on (because everyone hates tan lines, right?), you didn’t notice the curious eyes watching you from the deep waters. When you slipped a swimsuit on, just in case, and plunged into the cool waves, you didn’t realize that there was something just out of sight with his hungry gaze fixed on you. That would change the next day, however.

The next morning, you took off at dawn to the beach. You set everything up, eagerly waiting for the sun to finish rising. In awe, you watched the sunrise the same way that the creature that was creeping up from the depths was watching you. As soon as you’re in the water, tentacles were wrapping around your ankles, your waist. Puckers leaving soft pink marks all over your skin.

“Oh!” you squeak, lifting your legs to look what’s all over you. You gently touch the tentacle around your waist, confused but curious. “What’s this then?”

“Hello,” the octo-man said as he slowly broke the water’s surface. It seemed like he was nervous.

“Hello,” you echoed, looking at him with a tilted head.

He reached out to touch you, and a chill snaked down your back. His hand felt so squishy but also velvety. Kind of like the tentacles. In seconds, his lips were on yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth as if staking a claim.

Your body reacted on its own, curling into his, wrapping your arms around him. In seconds, he dragged you to a small partially underwater cave just a little ways off the shore. The merman set you on a shelf of the cave, leaving you only up to your knees in the water.

“My little trinket,” he muttered as he began to tease your cunt over your swimsuit bottom.

You whimpered softly, bucking your hips slightly against the sucker that was now attached to your clit with only the thin fabric between. He smirked at your obvious need. The tentacle itches away from you before another joined it to strip your bottoms. Your cunt was already getting slick, much to his excitement. His tentacles wrapped around your body, teasing you, prodding you.

Suckers found your sensitive nipples, and another found it’s way back to your clit, making you cry out in pleasure. Your cunt was throbbing, nearly dripping. “Fuck,” you moaned, arching more against his tentacles.

That was all it took for him. His largest tentacle began to push into your cunt, stretching you wide. You whimpered and moaned as he slowly stretched you out, your cunt gripping it as each inch pushed deeper and deeper into you. Another pushed into your mouth, down your throat. You gagged as you were stretched to what you thought was your limit. Then, your lover, his eyes half lidded as he groped and touched your soft human body, began to lift you slightly. His six other tentacles wrapped around you, helping lift you off the shelf. You didn’t think much of it, blissed out and on the edge of orgasm.

Just as suddenly as he lifted you, he unwound one of his tentacles from your waist, pushing it inside of your ass. You cried out against the tentacle in your mouth, but barely anything came out. He laid you down, unwinding another tentacle and shoving it into your already stretched cunt. Soon enough none where holding you as you were laid out on the shelf, your feet only in the water. A sucker was back on your clit, teasing you until you finally pulsed around the tentacles inside of you, drawing them in closer.

“There we go. That’s a good trinket,” he huffed, his sloppy kisses lining your neck.

He pushed his largest tentacle so deeply inside of you that you were certain it was in your womb. A bulge in your stomach seemed to confirm it. He panted as he came, the hot liquid a stark contrast to how cool he felt. Your eyes rolled back in your head, pathetic little whines pushing against the tentacle in your mouth.

The largest tentacle withdrew, dribbling a white liquid. However, the smaller one stayed inside, as if keeping you plugged. The tentacle in your mouth finally let you breath, withdrawing to lazily wrap around your chest. The only one actively thrusting into you now was the one in your ass, slowly and deliberately timing the thrusts to the sucking of the sucker still on your clit.

You don’t know how long you lay there, moaning and begging the merman to keep going, but by the time his cum is leaking out of you and multiple loads have been dumped into your little human womb, it’s sunrise again.

[jdeclerc]

happy birthday, shadowsinger

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: it's the night before azriel's birthday and he can't help but want you all to himself, politeness and decorum be damned

author's note: i'm a self-proclaimed cassian girlie but az does something to me, i wanted my first fic featuring him to be a happy one...enjoy :)

warnings: smut

word count: 5,728

“Even you can’t slip out unnoticed during your own party, Azriel.”

Azriel can hear the smile in your voice from where he stands facing the kitchen window overlooking the ocean. He wordlessly sends his shadows away, commanding them to ensure the two of you are left alone.

“Who’s to say my plan was to go unnoticed?”

He turns, drinking in your form from where you stand in the kitchen’s doorway.

He had almost been brought to his knees when you exited your shared dressing room hours earlier. Azriel had gone with you too many times not to recognize the pieces you wear as being custom-made by your favourite designer in the rainbow.

The top is made of the most beautiful lace Azriel has every seen, a band of black underneath is the only solid piece. The neckline raises high enough to circle your throat, he had found himself picturing his hand replacing that particular part more times that he cares to admit.

The high-waisted black pants flow down your form like water over rock, two slits running up both sides until they stop near the tops of your thighs. Throughout the night his hands had used every opportunity to slip themselves beneath the fabric, your skin against his own being a feeling he will chase for eternity.

But it is the vision of you now that has him thinking himself the luckiest male in all of Prythian.

You had removed your shoes at some point throughout the night, the intricate style of your hair had been replaced by a beautifully messy knot at the top of your head, and your jewellery had been abandoned in various places, the only piece remaining being the band he had placed on your finger two centuries ago.

You embody everything he deems to mean home, to mean comfort and safety.

“What if my plan was this? To have you all to myself?”

The kitchen is empty save for the two of you, the only noise being the music filtering in from the sitting room.

“You have me Azriel…any way you wish, any time you desire, I am yours.”

He can’t help his smile as he extends his right hand out toward you, a silent invitation for you to approach.

“Dance with me?”

Your eyes don’t stray from his as you close the distance, your left hand meeting his right. He takes your right hand and places both around his neck. His arms come to circle your waist, drawing you in as close as he is able. His wings follow suit, framing the two of you where you stand.

Azriel begins slow movements as he rests his head atop where yours is tucked under his jaw, brushing his lips across your forehead. A song he recognizes as one from your mating ceremony begins playing in the other room. After a moment he begins singing for only you to hear.

Azriel has let only those in his immediate family hear him sing, them being the only fae in existence aware that the ‘singer’ portion of his title rings true. He has only sung for them a handful of times, usually only doing so when faerie wine has gotten the best of him.

It was the expression on your face after the first time you heard him sing that erased any fear he held about your reaction. From that moment he never once denied your requests to hear him sing. You know him too well to ask in front of the other members of the Inner Circle, asking him only in the sacred space of your shared home. He will never get used to the waves of love and adoration you send down the bond when he sings for you.

As the song ends, Azriel begins quietly humming along with the one that follows, pulling both of you further into a moment meant only for the two of you. Neither of you dare to break the cocoon of quiet that surrounds you, moments such as these happening not nearly often enough.

Azriel isn’t sure how much time passes before you break the silence.

“I’m sorry if the party is too much, Cas and Rhys insisted on a night of revelry and debauchery…a gathering, at our house, with just our family, was the best I could get them down to.”

Your voice comes out hushed, like speaking at a regular volume would break the spell of the moment.

“I’m not even sure I want to know what it took to change their minds.” Amusement laces Azriel’s response. “And for it to be on the night before my birthday rather than the day of? You must be a sorceress.”

“It wasn’t quite that dramatic…I simply began telling them how I plan for the two of us to not leave our bed on your birthday, and of all the things we would be getting up to. That seemed to lessen their resolve.”

You can feel Azriel’s hands tighten where they rest on your waist, his head lowering until you feel the brush if his lips against your ear.

“I imagine it would…care to let me in on the details of what you told them?”

“I only got to tell them that I would be too sore for training the following day and that my voice would be strained from screaming your name before they feigned retching and begged me to stop.”

Azriel’s laugh is impossibly deep, the tone causing an involuntary wave of desire to shoot from your end of the bond. The air almost instantly changes, the scents of your respective arousals twisting and twining in the air around you as your gazes lock.

Azriel’s hands move to the backs of your thighs, lifting you into his arms and wrapping your legs around his waist. He moves forward until he can set you down on the closest counter, positioning himself between you and the doorway leading out of the kitchen. His look is nothing short of predatory as he stares down at you.

His right hand comes to rest on your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. His left moves from your waist and begins toying with the base of your top, the small, black buttons being the only thing that stands between him and your bare skin beneath his hands.

Your hands tighten their grip on either side of his neck as you bring your lips against the base of his ear.

“Damage even one button and I will cut you down…the Night Court will be in need of a new spymaster.”

Azriel leans far enough back to meet your eye and gives you a scandalized look in return. Despite his look his hands retreat to either side of your waist, his thumbs brushing beneath the hem of your top.

“So very violent…I would never dare to do such a thing, my love. Do you think so little of me?”

You respond with a raised eyebrow, both of you knowing his accounts list numerous trips throughout Velaris to replace the articles of clothing he had been too impatient to remove without ripping them.

“Shall I start counting how many pairs of undergarments I’ve lost to your impatience?” You stare up at him through your lashes, choosing your next words knowing exactly what they would do to your mate.

“Or is there something else you’d prefer my mouth to be doing?”

“Fuck me.” He says it so low that you know he’s saying it more to himself then you. His hunger is evident in the way he searches your eyes.

Azriel’s grip tightens around your waist. He moves forward spreading your thighs further to accommodate his form towering over your own.

Wordlessly you begin undoing the buttons of his shirt, reaching halfway before running your hands over his chest. You trace his tattoos, taking in and appreciating the beauty of your mate. You can feel him tense under your touch as your hands move under the collar of his shirt, stopping at the base of his neck to toy with the hair that had grown longer than normal after his last mission.

You look up at him through your lashes and it’s as though his world stops.

Nothing exists outside of this moment for Azriel as his lips meet yours. His right hand moves to the base of your neck, tightening his grip to tilt your head back, allowing him the angle he needs to devour you.

The kiss is the exact opposite of his outward, quiet demeanor. It’s demanding, he is a male with a singular focus, a hunger that only you can satiate. His hands move to your thighs, holding them with a bruising grip as he pulls them higher and tighter around his waist. Every part of him meeting every part of you.

It’s when you reach and beginning running your hand along the length of him over his pants that he pulls back, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth as he does. He rests his forehead against yours, both of your breaths laboured.

“Here or our bedroom?”

“Wha –”

“I plan to be inside you before the clock strikes midnight Y/N.” Azriel’s tone is severe, determination lacing every word. “It can be here, with our family in the next room, or I can spread you out beneath me as you grip the satin of our sheets…tell me where and tell me quickly.”

A mischievous grin spreads across your lips before you respond, and it takes everything in Azriel not to capture your lips with his once more. Your words come out as a whisper.

“Your birthday, your choice.”

Azriel emits a low groan at your words. With a practised ease he lifts you from the counter, keeping your body tucked close to his. He turns and carries you through the doorway of the kitchen, toward the stairs leading to the second floor of your shared home.

Only Amren notices the two of you as you pass by the sitting room. She gives Azriel a knowing smile and it’s the slight bow of her head that tells him she won’t alert the rest of the Inner Circle to your joined absence.

As he reaches the second floor, he carries you through the double doors that sit directly opposite the stairs. He removes a single hand from you only long enough to close both doors, sealing the two of you away from the world once more.

It takes you no more than a moment to know where your mate has taken you.

“The library? Interesting choice.” Amusement is mixed into your loving tone.

“My birthday, my choice, remember?” He moves forward, your back meeting the closest bookshelf. “I bolted these shelves to the floor for a reason, my love.”

Your eyes widen, your mate having left that particular piece of information out when explaining to you how he planned to make changes to the library when the two of you had moved in.

“Azriel…you did not!”

“Oh, but I did, my dear. Do you not remember what happened the first day we moved into this house?”

You both can’t help laughing at the memory. What started as a simple kiss ended with the two of you surrounded by a broken shelf and books scattered every which way. It had been your favourite room in the house ever since.

The library holds such peace and tranquility for both of you. Your respective offices both have doors leading into the room. Azriel can’t count how many nights you both have fallen asleep in front of the fireplace, still holding your books. He also can’t count the number of heated moments that passed between you within the walls of this room, your books, in particular, being the starting point to more than a few of those moments.

Azriel lowers you to the floor and takes your hips in his hands, turning you around. He moves both your hands to rest on the shelf just above your head.

“Keep them there.” His tone leaves no room for discussion or argument.

His hands move to either side your neck, his thumbs brushing the base of your jaw before moving to the first of the buttons that rest there. He undoes each one with painful precision, your arousal growing with each that comes loose.

It seems as though an eternity has passed before the last button comes free. He lowers your hands and pushes the top past your shoulders and down your arms. He sets the top on the empty portion of shelf behind him. As he turns back to face you, he moves your hands to rest on the shelf once more.

He presses a kiss to your left shoulder, leaving a path of searing skin in his wake as he settles his lips at the base of your ear. His fingertips brush across your skin from your hips until both hands come to rest beneath your breasts.

The tightening of your grip where it rests and the shiver that runs through you as he brushes his scarred thumbs across your nipples doesn’t go unnoticed by the spymaster. The cool air of the empty room has formed them into sensitive peaks, and he relishes in the stuttering breaths you let out as he continues the movements of his thumbs.

Azriel’s right hand comes to rest between your breasts as his left moves down your stomach, stopping just short of where he knows you want his hands most.

“Az…”

Your words come out weak, pleading.

His hand undoes the buttons of your pants with expert precision. You can’t help the whimper that escapes as both of his hands leave your body to slide the garment down your legs. He repeats his earlier actions, your pants now resting with your top.

Azriel’s hands find their place once more as he presses your bare form into his fully clothed one, the friction causing another shiver to rake over your body.

His left hand continues its previous path downward until his fingers brush against the most sensitive part of you. It’s his turn to let out an involuntary groan at what his hand is met with.

“So wet for me already Y/N. I’ve barely touched you…are you that desperate for me?”

Rather than give him a response, your body does its best to grind against his hand, searching for some form of friction. His right hand tightens where it rests on your sternum, halting your movements.

“You’ll have to do better than that Y/N. Use your words…tell me exactly what you need.”

His lips are pressed to your ear, his voice so deep it is the accelerant to the fire raging within you.

It takes a moment for you to respond, your words coming out broken.

“I need you…I need you inside me, Az. Now.”

Your words pull him from the haze of his arousal. Very rarely do the two of you move forward without some form of preparation to make the experience more enjoyable for you. Azriel isn’t ignorant to his size, he is acutely aware of the discomfort he has unintentionally caused you in the past. Very rarely does your need outweigh the pain you feel as you adjust to him.

“Be sure Y/N. Please.” His words are desperate, the need to have your intention clear necessary for him to move forward.

You turn in his grip, bringing your hands to rest on his chest as you meet his eye. Your left hand raises to rest against his jaw, your next words giving him the reassurance you know he needs.

“I’m sure Az…I want every inch you have to give me.”

Your hands become desperate, reaching to undo the buttons beneath each of his wings. Azriel can’t help but let out a low laugh as you struggle to pull his shirt from his body. He grasps your wrists and places them on his waist before reaching overhead and pulling the garment off himself. He tosses it to the side, all the care he showed your clothes has been thrown into the Sidra.

He looks down and watches as you pull his zipper down, his breath hitching as you sink to your knees before him, the sight never failing to bring out his base desires. He steps out of his pants when they reach his ankles. His hands move to cover yours where they grip at his thighs when they start to move.

“You’re not the only one that needs me inside you, Y/N.” His voice is gravel, almost pained as he pulls you to stand once more. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth in the beginning of a pout.

“It’s your birthday Az, this is about you.”

His hands encase either side of your neck with a firm grip, ensuring you hear every word he has to say.

“If it’s about me then it’s about you.” His voice goes impossibly deep with his next words. “You should know by now that nothing gets me off quite like the sounds you make as you cum around my cock.”

He says nothing more before he captures your lips with his own and lifts you into his arms. He parts from you just long enough to brush his cock through your folds, lining himself up. You both let out a low groan as he pushes into you, your head falling back against the bookshelf and his coming to rest against your chest.

Azriel doesn’t dare move, savouring the moment. Your hands brush back the hair that has fallen over his forehead, tilting his face up to meet yours. You both refuse to break the eye contact as he draws his hips back and moves them forward once more, working himself deeper.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and he can see your eyes begin to water as he bottoms out inside you. His heart breaks at the sight, but you don’t give him a single second to fall into self-deprecation as you pull his lips to meet yours.

The kiss is different than the last, it’s fueled by care and adoration. A love so deep neither of you can quite comprehend it most days.

Azriel tucks his head against your neck as you tighten your arms around his shoulders, his lips paying special attention to the spot just beneath your ear that has you clutching him, your nails surely leaving marks.

His first movements are slow, measured. He plays you like a song that he has practiced his entire life, knowing just what you need. It’s when you bring your forehead to rest against his that he knows you need more, knows you want him to give you everything he can.

His pace becomes burning, pulling sounds from you that would have him offering up whatever he needed in order to hear them just one more time.

“That’s it Y/N/N.” He pulls out to the tip before beginning to push back in, painfully slow. His pace quickening again as he snaps his hips into yours. “I want to hear you take every inch like the good girl that you are.”

It’s his words that send you barreling into an orgasm that has you seeing stars. His right hand moves to circle your clit, causing you to cry out as he carries you through your release. Your left hand grips his forearm, attempting and failing to halt his movements.

“Az, please…”

Your words are more desperate than he knows you wish them to be. Azriel gradually slows his movements, and he can feel your body coming back from the over-stimulation. He doesn’t give you time to fully recover as he moves to lay you down on the couch that is centred in front of the dormant fireplace.

Azriel takes a moment to admire the sinful beauty of you beneath him, it’s a sight that he commits to memory each time he is graced by it.

Your hands grip his biceps as he lowers himself to hover above you, his arms resting on either side of your head. His lips meet yours in a kiss that is nothing short of devastating. He pushes every bit of need he has for you down the bond, ensuring you know he is worshipping before his chosen altar.

He hooks his left arm under your knee, raising your leg and pushing himself even deeper inside you. He relishes in the expression that passes over your features at the new angle. Your body is pliant under his, ready to take whatever he gives you.

Azriel doesn’t have many words to say but he wishes he could give every last one to you in this moment.  Wishes he could find the words to properly describe the effect you have on him, his feelings so consuming it terrifies him.

A squeeze on his forearm pulls him from his thoughts, he glances up to meet your questioning expression.

“Care to tell me what has that beautiful mind of yours thinking so hard?” Your words are gentle, barely coming out above a whisper.

Azriel brushes his thumb along your jaw.

“Nothing you don’t already know.” He smiles to himself. “Just that I am hopelessly, endlessly, devastatingly in love with you.”

“Keep talking like that, Shadowsinger and I won’t even need you to move. Your voice is all I need.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.” He pulls out to the tip and pushes back in, hitting every last spot that has you clenching around him and arching your chest into his. “Or this.” He leans down, closing his mouth on your pulse point, leaving his mark on you. “And I really shouldn’t be doing this either.” His mouth resumes its position, and his fingers start moving over your clit in the way only he knows how.

“But we both know it doesn’t matter what I do when I’m the only that can have you like this, the only one that can give you what we both know you’d beg for.” His fingers stop their movements, leaving you to clench around him, wordlessly begging for him to do something, anything. The sound that comes from you at the loss is nothing short of primal, so involuntary Azriel can’t stop the pride that washes over him.  

He starts moving again, varying his pace until he finds the one that has your head falling back onto the couch and the nails of your left hand digging into his back, just below where his wing meets his skin. Azriel can’t help the moan that leaves him, the scrape of your nails only heightening the euphoria beginning to consume him.

Your right hand blindly grabs for the hand he has anchored next to your head. He interlaces his fingers with your own, your knuckles turning white with the force of your grip, desperate to maintain your hold on him.

“Fuck, Az…don’t stop.” He can barely hear the words as you choke them out, each sounding more strained than the last. “Plea...please.”

You’re close; he can hear it in your breathing and feels it in the way your body tenses, as though you’re a rope about to snap.

He doesn’t let up in his pace, even though he can feel himself barreling toward his own release. Azriel is determined to hold out long enough for you to fall over the edge first.

“Such good manners.” Azriel grips the back of you neck with his right hand, forcing your eyes to open and meet his. The expression across his face has you letting out a whimper, the fire in his eyes unmistakeable. “But what did I say about telling me exactly what you want Y/N? Use your words.”

He can see you struggle to form the words, so lost in your pleasure it takes more than one try for them to cross your lips.

“Please, Az, I want to…need to cum on your cock.”

Your words break the last of his resolve. His hand moves from your neck to resume its movements on your clit, moving against it slowly, in such stark contrast to the burning pace set by his hips.

The dual sensations have you crying out and Azriel responds in turn, with a needy groan falling from his own lips.

He leans down and places his lips against your ear, his voice sinful as he whispers the exact words you need.

“Then do that for me, love…cum for me.” His fingers quickening their pace only slightly.

That all it takes for your vision to flash white, your orgasm ripping through you with such delicious ferocity. You can’t help the trembling of your thighs as Azriel’s pace doesn’t slow, drawing sounds from you that only he’s ever been able to do.

His release quickly follows your own as he bites down on your neck, pushing his hips harshly into yours as he cums. You can feel him tremble under your touch as you cling to him, the reaction a direct contrast to the deep moans coming from him.

Azriel’s thrusts slow, anchoring you both as you come down from your respective highs. The sound of your combined releases nearly sending you into a third orgasm.

Azriel isn’t sure how long it takes for your respective breaths to even out. All he knows as he stares down at the look of pure bliss on your face is that he will never get used to this, will never stop wanting to be the one that gets to see you like this.

He waits a few more moments before slowly pulling out of you, a small gasp leaving your lips at the loss. Azriel rests his head on your chest, giving himself a moment to truly come down from his high.

Your hand brushes the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, a truly contented smile forming as he lifts his head and closes his eyes with the movement of your hand.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence for a few moments before the clock that sits on the fireplace mantel gives out an almost silent chime.

“It’s midnight…Happy Birthday Azriel.” You whisper the words, sending every bit of love you can down the bond. “Hopefully you’re not disappointed with how your day is beginning.”

He leans down to kiss you rather than respond, exploring your mouth with slow precision. When he breaks it his forehead rests against your own.

“When I say this is better than anything I could dream, please believe every word. I thank the cauldron every day for gifting me with you as a mate.” You can tell his next words are said to himself as his eyes search your face. “I will never deserve you.”

“You wish for me to believe your words…believe mine in return.” Your hands grasp either side of his face. “You deserve everything you have, my love. The life you have built, your family, me, all of it.”

He lets out a low hum of acknowledgment, leaning down to kiss you. It’s slow, patient – allowing the both of you to bask in the feeling of each other.

You break from the kiss suddenly, unable to stifle the yawn you let out.

“You’re tired Y/N.”

“No, I’m here, I’m –” Another yawn interrupts your words.

Azriel lets out a low chuckle, shifting so he rests on his side facing you. His wings relax over the edge of the couch, and he allows them to brush the ground rather than devote the concentration to keeping them raised. He reaches over you and pulls the blanket folded over the back of the couch to cover your entwined bodies.

He wraps his arms around your waist and rests your head against his chest.

“Sleep Y/N, you’ll need rest if you’d like us to live out the day you scarred Rhys and Cas with as you described it.”

You smile and let out an amused hum as your eyes begin to close.

“It would be a perfect day, Cas and Rhys be damned.” The words come out in a whisper, and it doesn’t take long for Azriel to hear your breathing leveling out.

He waits long enough to ensure you’re truly asleep before gently untangling himself from you. He looks down as he stands and finds his shadows have returned. They skirt around the bottom of the couch, holding true to their need to keep you safe at every turn.

He silently thanks them, only now realizing just how long your shared family had gone without interrupting the two of you.

Azriel crosses the short space to the bookshelves, retrieving his pants and pulling them on, not bothering to button them as he knows they’ll be on his bedroom floor in a matter of minutes.

He faces the couch once more and pulls the blanket tighter around your form before lifting you into his arms. Even in sleep, you burrow further into his hold, tucking your head tight to his chest.

Azriel can’t help the smile plastered to his lips as he exits the library, vowing to himself that the two of you would be back in this room later in the day, continuing this evening’s activities.

---------

“Where did they go Rhysie?”

Rhysand can hear the pout in Cassian’s voice as he asks the question.

“They didn’t leave the house so I’m sure they haven’t gone far Cas. Don’t worry, we’ll find them.”

He tightens his grip on Cassian’s arm as his massive form sways during their ascent up the stairs.

“We better, they’re too important to me to lose.” His eyes are taking on a glossy glint as he continues. “What if something terrible’s happened?! I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a hand on them!”

It’s in that moment that Rhysand thanks the Mother he insisted they all come unarmed tonight. A drunk Cassian is one matter…an armed drunk Cassian could end in catastrophe.

Rhysand can hear a slight shift from down the hall as they finally reach the top of the stairs. He looks ahead and spots two of the few fae who permanently reside within his heart.

Cassian moves before Rhysand can pull him back. His massive form taking the most ungraceful of steps to reach his friends.

“Thank the gods you’re okay!” Azriel quickly hushes the General, his tone having crossed from its previous whisper to the beginning of his normally boisterous, energetic tone. “I was so afraid something terrible had happened when neither of you came back!”

Azriel eyes dart to Rhysand’s, his eyebrows raising in question. Rhysand shrugs in response, slipping into Azriel’s mind after he lowers his shields.

“He refused to leave until he laid eyes on the two of you, his concern so great he turned down every reassurance I tried to give him.”

“Just how much did he drink?” Azriel’s amusement is evident, no anger imposes on his tone.

“Please don’t make me answer that, he winnowed to the wine cellar before I could stop him. Feyre’s in similar shape but Amren was able to get her home, I clearly haven’t had such luck.”

Azriel nods at his High Lord in understanding and turns his attention to Cas once more.

The stretch of silence has given the General an opportunity to move even closer to the two, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he looks down at Y/N.

“She’s not hurt Cas, she simply sleeps. You wouldn’t want to wake her, would you?”

Cassian shakes his head.

“Can you do me a favour, brother?” Cassian nods in response.

Rhysand can see from where he stands that the expression Cassian gives Azriel is nothing short of one filled with utter love.

“Y/N had a headache earlier today and she misplaced the tonic Majda gave her in the House of Wind after our meeting. Can I trust you to find it for her? It would make her so happy to have it back.”

“For Y/N? Consider it done, brother.” Cassian’s tone is as serious as it is when he walks into battle. The two of you had been close since the moment you met, the General declaring himself your protector.

He stares at Azriel for a moment longer before taking his face in his hands and kissing both of his cheeks. And it’s as he leans down to give Y/N the same treatment that Rhysand finally takes in the scene before him.

He observes Azriel’s half-clothed state and his quick adjustment to the blanket covering you, pulling your body in closer to his own.

Rhys realizes just what he and Cassian have interrupted and curses his less than sober state for not realizing earlier the most obvious reason two mates would slip away at one of their respective birthday celebrations.

“Cas, let’s go find that tonic. We wouldn’t want Y/N to wait any longer than she has to.” Rhysand crosses the short distance and moves to turn Cassina away from the mated pair.

Azriel shoots him a grateful look, his thanks clearly evident.

Cassian allows Rhys to lead him away but abruptly turns back just as they move to descend the stairs.

“Azriel?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Tell Y/N Happy Birthday from me when she wakes up, I want to be the first one to say it.” His smile is beaming at the thought.

“The second she wakes, she will know.” Azriel’s words are filled with amusement, letting out a low laugh at the General’s words.

Cassian gives him a triumphant smile, turning back toward the stairs without another word.

Rhysand gives Azriel one last apologetic look before leading the General down the stairs and past the wards that guard the home.

“Y/N must’ve gotten hot before she fell asleep.”

Cassian’s words have Rhysand pausing.

“What makes you say that, Cas?”

The General’s words fall to a whisper, as though somebody may be listening.

“She didn’t have any clothes on under that blanket. She was in front of a fire and got too warm, Azriel didn’t want us to see so he put the blanket on her, I’m certain of it.”

He speaks like he’s privy to confidential information and has finally chosen to let Rhysand in on it.

Rhysand grips his brother’s arm, giving him an endearing smile as he begins to winnow them to the House of Wind. Cassian’s face conveying unending pride at Rhys' reply.

“You must be right Cas…there’s absolutely no other possible explanation.”

[ticklishfiend]

Figure Us Out (ATLA)

(lee!zuko /ler!aang and sokka)

A/N : i love atla rn. love zuko. if i encounter an awkward grumpy guy with a redemption arc in media, u bet ur ass i’m going to tickle him

Word Count : 3863

Summary : Zuko still feels like an outsider in their group. Aang and the others are gonna make sure he feels included!

hope u enjoy!!

—

“You’re such a liar!” Katara playfully punched Sokka in the arm, drawing a laugh out of him.

“I am not! That’s exactly how it went down, you’re just embarrassed that–”

“I’m not embarrassed–”

“Yeah, and you’re totally not red in the face either.”

“Sokka!”

This was…this was weird. 

Before meeting Sokka and Katara, Zuko really thought “being angry at your sibling” was a concept he understood better than anyone. He and Azula fought constantly back at home, it was pretty much just how they communicated with each other. Arguments aplenty, yelling and bickering by the dozen. 

But after spending the past few weeks with his new team (the word ‘friends’ still makes him bite his tongue), he’s realized there’s actually two different types of a sibling fight, and one of those types he’s never personally encountered before.

He’s used to spitting insults, deep personal cuts made against your biggest insecurities. Lies and manipulation hidden under sweet smiles so no one around suspects a thing. Most fights were like dances, using careful words and holding back just enough information to make your opponent second-guess themselves. And, of course, an argument was rarely ever had without literal flames thrown around to really drive it home.

But this? This was playful bickering around a campfire just to get under each other’s skin. Lighthearted teasing that showed how well they knew each other. There was love under each jab.

It was sorta weirding Zuko out.

He wasn’t uncomfortable by it, in fact probably the opposite. It made him feel closer to the group that he was included in moments like these. He liked getting to witness how normal siblings are supposed to interact, even if he knows he’ll never truly get to experience something like that himself. Zuko’s accepted his distance with Azula, and honestly it’d probably feel weirder if they did interact like this after everything they’ve gone through.

Honestly, he’s not sure why he feels weird. Maybe it’s because he’s just not as close to them all as they are to each other. Right now, Zuko’s just an awkward outsider that’s sorta-kinda trying to fit in, and fitting in with normal people has never exactly been his strong suit. He’s awkward and stiff and he knows it. And yet, they’ve been so open to him already. Sure, he had to prove he was over his whole ‘capture the avatar to avenge my honor’ phase, but now that he’s over that hump they’ve been super cool to him.

Zuko’s weirdly enjoyed getting to know this group’s dynamics with each other. He’s not entirely sure how he fits in yet, but that’s not even his biggest concern right now. Actually, his biggest concern right now might be that weird look Katara’s got on her face.

“Lying is pretty unbecoming of a warrior, dontcha think Suki?” Katara grinned over at Sokka’s girlfriend, who chuckled into his shoulder,

“Do not get me involved in…whatever this is.”

“Yeah, don’t drag her into this! She wasn’t even there!” Sokka argued very loudly, his usual bickering style. He gripped onto Suki’s arm with a pout, fluttering his eyelashes. “You believe me, right?”

Suki glanced at Katara behind Sokka’s back, and could clearly see her plotting something. Katara grinned like a loon before holding a finger up to her lips. Suki giggled, “Of course I believe you. How couldn’t I believe this face?” She pinched his cheek and Sokka hummed happily. Zuko took another spoonful of soup as he watched quietly, catching on that something was about to happen. He just didn’t know what.

Then, when Katara shoved her hands under Sokka’s arms, Zuko nearly spit his soup into the fire at Sokka’s resounding shriek. Sokka quickly fell into a fit of loud laughter, toppling over his log with Katara following after. 

“Admit you’re a liar!” She practically yelled over Sokka’s obnoxiously loud cackling. “Admit it!”

“AH! Ahaha no! You–You’re crahazy!” He sputtered out, shoving at Katara’s hands to no avail. 

Zuko felt weird watching this. He’s not unfamiliar with the concept of tickling, but he’s not exactly accustomed to it either. Especially not with family. Sure, Uncle had been known to tweak his sides every once in a while when they were out on their own together, but never anything like this. Zuko took to awkwardly staring into his soup, hoping he’d fade into the background like he usually did at dinner time. 

Unfortunately for him, tonight he was sitting next to Aang. Zuko felt an elbow nudge his rib, glancing over to the smiling Avatar. 

“Y’know, Sokka’s pretty well-known for exaggerating his stories like, a lot. Katara’s told this story before and he didn’t say a thing then. He definitely deserves this.” 

Zuko swallowed some soup. “That seems likely,” he said stiffly. Zuko could feel Aang’s eyes on him at the same time he heard the scuffle quiet down. 

“That was…” Sokka panted, “so uncalled for. Did you have to do that in front of Suki? And the fire prince?!” Sokka whined, his hands thrown over his face. 

“Hey, if anyone deserves to know how much of a liar you are, it’s gonna be your girlfriend and the new guy,” Katara said proudly, standing up to grab another log for the fire. Sokka grumbled, crossing his arms as Suki wrapped him in a sympathetic hug. 

Zuko decided not to acknowledge his mentioning, not sure if he should get involved in this. Apparently Aang felt otherwise.

“Did you and your sister ever play like that?”

Oh. Okay. So that’s what Aang was thinking about. 

The crackling of the fire seemed so much louder now that everyone had gone noticeably silent. Zuko found himself staring into it.

Katara shifted uncomfortably. “Aang, maybe we shouldn’t–” 

“No no, it’s okay,” Zuko sat his bowl down next to his log. “I understand having questions.”

Aang continued looking at him with those big eyes of his, but Zuko kept staring into the fire. Talking about family wasn’t always the easiest, but felt necessary in gaining more of their trust. They deserved to know this stuff. 

“My sister and I have never really been close. We’ve had our…moments. But play was rarely on the table,” Zuko said. “Not when we both had so much on the line.”

Aang pinched his lips together in thought. “So I’m guessing tickle fights were never on the table either, huh?”

Zuko huffed in amusement, finally peeking over at Aang. “No, not really.”

“Wait, so…” Sokka spoke up, curiosity mixed with something else glinting in his eye, clearly excited about changing the subject. “Do you even know if you’re ticklish?” 

Toph barked a laugh from her rock stool. “You’re just asking cause you’re tired of being the most ticklish in the group!” 

“Hey!” Sokka exclaimed angrily before fixing his face. “Look, first of all, I’m not the most ticklish. We all know that title belongs to Aang,” Sokka nodded towards Aang, who just grinned. “And secondly, being the one that gets ganged up on all the time gets a little unfair when I’m surrounded by frickin' benders, okay?!”

Everyone but Zuko chuckled at that, which brought Sokka’s attention back towards him. “Seriously though, fire prince. Ticklish or no?”

“Um…” Zuko cringed. “I mean, yeah I guess so. Er–Uncle poked me sometimes when we were on the run together, if that counts.”

“Did you not just hear Sokka begging for his life two seconds ago?” said Toph with a chuckle. “That definitely doesn’t count.”

Zuko really wasn’t sure what to say. He’s smart enough to know where this conversation seemed to be heading, and was really unsure how to feel about that. In a poor attempt to evade whatever this was, he pulled his knees to his chest and crossed his arms over them, leaving a spot to rest his head.

While Zuko might’ve been smart enough to sense the direction these questions were heading, Aang was smart enough to sense he didn’t really feel comfortable with it. Not yet at least. 

“Sokka, can you tell that story about the saber-tooth moose lion? I don’t think Zuko’s heard that one yet.”

Sokka gasped in excitement, his train of thought successfully derailed. “Foo Foo Cuddlypoops!”

—

The next day, Zuko had forgotten all about the attention he got last night. Sure, he thought about it some when he was trying to go to sleep that night. And sure, maybe he clutched onto his midsection a little tighter than usual as he dozed off, thinking about the loud laughter drawn out of Sokka from playful hands. It didn’t…it wasn’t like he was actually thinking about it. Not in any real way. It was just something interesting to ponder on. A sensation relatively foreign to him that would probably make him laugh like he didn’t often get to do so freely. And thinking about the fact that the rest of the group seemed curious if it would work on him was definitely…it was totally nothing, really.

So like–he’s forgotten all about it now. It’s a new day, and Zuko’s got work to do. 

He and Aang had been training their fire all morning, and it was finally time for lunch. Sokka had gone fishing earlier, so they all kept to doing their own thing while he cooked over the fire (a fire Aang had lit himself, by the way. Zuko felt a weird sense of pride that Aang was seriously getting the hang of this, and using it in a way he knew would make Uncle proud).

Zuko decided on meditation while he waited. He sat on the ground shirtless, honoring his Uncle as he let the sun warm his skin and settle the fire inside him. Meditation like this seemed impossible to him just a couple years ago, his impatience once too thin and his temper too fraught. But now, it came so much easier. Zuko could feel the sun working wonders in his body, keeping his fire at a healthy state while also giving him time to clear his full mind. It was truly relaxing.

Well, it was relaxing, until he felt a set of hands scribbling at the base of his spine. “GAAHA–!” Zuko was quickly jolted out of his zone with a yelp, arching his back away with flailing arms. 

“What the–?!” Zuko whipped his head around to find Toph giggling behind him on the ground. “Toph, what the heck?! Can’t you see I’m meditating!”

“Well duh, Sparky, that’s why I did it,” She wiggled her fingers in the air teasingly with a grin. “You never even saw it coming!”

Zuko couldn’t will the flush from his face. He felt so embarrassed, getting played by a 12 year old girl like that. Zuko groaned into his palm, “Whatever, just don’t do it again. Let me finish before–”

“Lunch is ready!” Sokka yelled across camp, using Suki’s fan to waft the smell towards his friends. Zuko groaned again, scowling at the girl who couldn’t even see him doing it. 

“Time to eat, Jumpy,” Toph snickered, getting up and following the smell. Zuko rolled his eyes before throwing his shirt back on and following behind.

For the next 10 minutes the group sat around the smoky logs no longer lit by fire, eating their food and sharing how their days have gone so far.

“Guys, Zuko showed me this really cool firebending trick earlier! I’ll show you once my stomach’s settled,” Aang said excitedly, taking a bite of the berries Katara had scavenged for him. 

“It’s actually a pretty complicated move. I was surprised you picked it up so quick,” Zuko said, feeling a little shy. He was finally warming up enough to talk without being addressed first during these meal times, and silently hoped he wouldn’t get called out on it.

“Well, that’s Aang for you,” Katara smiled towards the Avatar. “Actually, it sorta frustrated me when I first started teaching him waterbending. It took me ages to master those skills, and yet it took him no time at all.” She crossed her arms at him, teasing as if it still bothered her after all this time.

“Yeah, I get that,” said Zuko. “I guess it doesn’t bother me as much since I’ve already seen all the crazy stuff he can do with the other elements. It’s not exactly new for me to see him be so…” Zuko waved his hand in the air trying to find the word, but once he did he got a little embarrassed and decided against it. “Well, you know.”

“Nooo, c’mon, what were you gonna say!” Aang grinned beside him, poking his arm. “You were totally gonna say ‘amazing’ right?”

Zuko sported a little grin of his own, peeking an eye towards Aang. “Actually, I was gonna say annoying,” Zuko lied, almost chuckling at Aang’s gasp.

“Ohoh snap!” Sokka giggled, stuffing his face with more fish. “You just gonna take that, Aang?”

Toph suddenly let her stool drop to the ground, the loud bang catching everyone’s attention. “I know how you can get him back.”

Zuko froze, staring nervously her way. Aang caught the look he was giving, and was immediately intrigued.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Aang asked, before Toph leaned in and whispered something in his ear that made them both snicker.

Aang stood up with crossed arms, unable to stop smiling. “You know, I just remembered a certain conversation we had last night about a certain weakness of yours.” Zuko’s eyes widened, his gaze darting around each person to gauge their reactions. They were all smiling, and Zuko felt a nervous twitch at the corner of his own lips.

“Cmon, seriously? I know what you told him, Toph, and that was not what you think it was. You just…surprised me while I was concentrating,” Zuko defended, trying really hard not to smile right now.

“Yeah, tell that to the giggle you let slip,” Toph snickered.

Sokka caught on quickly with a chuckle. “Oh, buddy, you are so in for it now,” he tossed his last bite of fish into his mouth. “Take it from me, it’s best to just let it happen instead of running. If you run now, everybody’s gonna come after you.”

Zuko froze, darting his eyes back to Aang towering over him. The Avatar wiggled his fingers in the air, and Zuko knew what he had to do.

With a groan, Zuko took a deep breath, puffing his cheeks with air, and tensed his entire body. He pulled his arms close to his chest and clenched his eyes closed. He was gonna take it like a champ. A very awkward champ.

But instead of the tickle attack he had expected, he heard everyone around start laughing. He peeked one eye open and saw Aang doubled over holding his stomach through his giggles.

Katara snickered behind her hand, “For a former prince, you really can be such a dork sometimes!” Zuko blushed, untensing his body.

“Sokka told me not to run so–!” Zuko waved his arms around awkwardly, unsure of what to do. He sighed behind his hands, feeling warm in the face. “I really don’t get you people sometimes.”

Aang giggled, walking behind Zuko and plopping down. “It’s okay, you’ll figure us out eventually,” he said, before digging his fingers into the back of Zuko’s ribs. 

“AH! Ahaha–wait! Aang!” Zuko sputtered out a surprised giggle before pinching his lips closed, squirming and kicking his feet into the dirt. He giggled in his throat, trying hard not to let any sounds escape his lips. Somehow, this was even more embarrassing than Zuko thought it would be.

“Oh cmon, he’s trying to hold it in!” Toph complained, pointing at her ears, “I can’t exactly see your reactions, idiot, I’m gonna need to hear it.”

Zuko shook his head, but it was getting really hard to contain himself when Aang was doing that to his sides. He kept letting out little squeaks and growls, but he could feel his chest was filling with giggles and knew it would be no time before a real laugh leaked through.

“Get his armpits! That always kills you and Sokka,” Katara called out, getting an offended, “Hey, what’s this got to do with me?!” from Sokka.

Aang listened, tickling with so much concentration his tongue poked through his lips. He tried sticking his fingers under Zuko’s arms, but the prince kept them glued tight to his sides. Aang stopped with a chuckle, looking toward the siblings. “He won’t let me in there!”

“I can’t hehelp it!” Zuko complained, but didn’t move from his spot on the log. He panted, relieved for a break, but he could tell Aang wasn’t finished just yet.

“At least try to move your arms away. C’mon, I wanna hear you laugh!” Aang said, giving Zuko a poke to his lower back. When Zuko yelped and arched away, Aang snickered and tried again. And again. And again. Aang kept poking at his back like a typewriter, and Zuko let out the quickest set of giggles before standing up and backing away nervously.

“I–I cahan’t. I really–there’s no way–” Zuko shook his head, embarrassed but clearly having some fun himself. Everyone giggled at his reaction, amused by how ticklish and unable to take it he seemed to be.

“Wait, okay, now I want a turn,” Sokka stood up from his log and walked towards Zuko with wiggly fingers. Zuko shrinked away with a nervous chuckle, his arms wrapped around his midsection. 

“Noho way, this is ridiculous–”

“Oh cmoooon! I’ll let you get me back after!” Sokka locked his hands together to beg, “Pleeease Zuko?” He pouted and bat his eyelashes at the boy. Zuko just scoffed and rolled his eyes with a grin peeking at the corner of his lips.

“You are so stupid,” he grumbled. “That’s not gonna work on me. I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Maybe not, but I think I make a pretty good argument. I’m super fun to tickle, right guys?” Sokka looked around the room. Katara shrugged.

“Eh. You’re super loud. It’s kind of annoying.”

“Katara! Help me here!”

“Er–buuuut you do snort like a pig sometimes! That’s pretty funny,” she smiled toward Zuko, who just gave an incredulous look back. “I think you should do it. He’s pretty easy to fight back if you hate it.”

Zuko took a second to think it over. No one launched towards him, no one took him by surprise. Everyone just waited to see if he’d actually be okay with it.

Spirits. Sometimes it’s really annoying how nice this group can be. 

With a sigh, Zuko spread his arms out to the side, holding his head up high (but kept his eyes closed for good measure. It’s really embarrassing to look everyone in the eyes right now).

“Alright, yes!” Sokka clapped his hands together, making his way behind Zuko. “Okay, see how long you can keep your arms up for. Aang and I play this game all the time.”

Zuko expected the tickle to come right after, but…nothing happened. He waited a few seconds, and still, nothing. Finally he got frustrated, and peeked his eyes open to see Sokka’s hands floating just above his armpits. Seeing that freaked Zuko out way more than he expected, shooting his arms down with a yelp. Unfortunately for him, all that did was trap Sokka’s hands right where they wanted to be, and they immediately dug into his armpits like no tomorrow.

Zuko shrieked, curling up as much as he could while standing before crumbling into a fit of screechy cackles and giggles.

“Oh man, I wasn’t sure that trick would work on you!” Sokka giggled, his fingertips gently but efficiently digging into Zuko’s underarms with no plan on moving.

Zuko was in stitches. He wasn’t expecting this to be so unbearable, but spirits were his armpits ticklish. He could barely get a word out, pretty much babbling nonsense through his endless laughter.

“Ahaha! W-waahaha! It-It–-gggahaha nohoho!” Zuko cackled, squirming from side to side before crumbling to his knees in laughter. 

“Finally!” said Toph, punching Aang in the shoulder happily. “Took you softies long enough to get him actually laughing! If it was me tickling Sparky, he’d probably be in tears by now.”

“And that’s exactly why you aren’t allowed to tickle him,” Katara said, watching the scene with a smile. “Not yet at least. Clearly this is new to Zuko, we don’t wanna run him off when we just got him.”

“St-stahahaha! Ahaha guys!” Zuko rolled onto his back, his body overcome with giggles when Sokka started pinching lightly at his sides. 

“‘Guys?’ Don’t look at us, it’s Sokka you’ve gotta bargain with,” Toph teased, popping one of Aang’s berries into her mouth.

“Yeah! What do I get in return for stopping, huh?” Sokka said, pinching upward toward his lower ribs. That got a real good shriek out of Zuko, and everyone around couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I-! Gahaha, I dohohon’t–fffaahaha knohohow!” Zuko threw his head back as Sokka tickled all over his ribs, finally grabbing onto Sokka’s wrists and pulling him off. Sokka pulled back with no fight, only giving him another poke in the belly to hear Zuko yelp before sitting back and letting the boy collect himself.

Zuko panted, a stray giggle escaping him as he breathed. He clutched his stomach and threw a hand over his warm face, covering his eyes. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna look everyone in the eyes after that display. Oh spirits, what was he thinking? That was such a bad idea letting them take him out so easily like that. They’ll never take him seriously again, he’s supposed to be Aang’s teacher for pete’s sake, shoot this might be really bad, this might—

“Ohoho man that was awesome Zuko! You lasted way longer than I thought you would!” Aang giggled from above Zuko’s head. Zuko peeked his eyes out and saw Aang holding up a hand for him to high five.

Zuko couldn’t help the little giggle that slipped out at that. The Avatar is so…silly. He groaned and swatted Aang’s hand away, making everyone laugh. 

“After you get Sokka back, it’s my turn to play!” Aang straightened his back quickly, making the T-stance with his arms that Zuko held just a minute prior. “I bet I can last longer than you!”

“Pfff-” Toph laughed, slapping a hand on Aang’s shoulder. “Twinkle-toes, your record is currently four seconds without begging. You should probably start thinking your bets through before making them.”

“You can go ahead and have your turn. I’ll get Sokka when he least expects it,” Zuko grinned, sitting up and shooting his attacker a mischievous look. Sokka gulped with a nervous giggle, darting towards Aang to tickle him and change the subject away from himself.

“Ahaha wait! I wahasn’t ready!” Aang cried, immediately crumbling to the floor in a fit of childish shrieks and giggles.

Zuko watched on with a smile he couldn’t wipe from his face. These people were good. They worked with him at his pace. They understood things take time for him, and they’re okay with that. 

Zuko can tell they already see him as their friend. He’s starting to think he can see them in the same light.

-

thanks for reading! consider reblogging if u enjoyed hehe <3

[houserautha]

Only Pleasure Remains

Summary: Feyd-Rautha has other uses for the mouth of the Fremen prisoner refusing to talk.

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x GNFremen!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: he fucks your face, it’s nonconsensual, you kind of like it anyway, smut without plot, you get a facial, WITH his black cum because that’s too iconic of a HC not to include, he gets his happy ending but you don’t get yours. Literally.

A/N: I don’t think a Fremen would ever allow this to actually happen but I’m a whore and a slave to my simpler urges. Not gonna lie I wanted this to happen in the movie. Does this even make sense? I don’t know but it’s hot

The inner walls of the ruined sietch is a brief relief from the oppressive heat beating down on the desert planet. Feyd-Rautha discovers a group of his men restraining a prisoner, sunlight pouring in from the hole over their heads. As they notice him they break apart, revealing you to him for the first time since he received news of a survivor.

You’re covered in sandy grime and blood, the nose piece of your stillsuit dangling free, hair dirtied and loose from its previous style.

And you look fucking beautiful on your knees, even with your face wrenched in disgust and utter defiance. Feyd-Rautha didn’t expect to feel such an intense attraction to a Fremen. In fact, he reserves a moment to study you, to confront his desire like an untamed beast — pry open its mouth and examine its teeth.

“They refuse to talk,” one of the Harkonnen soldiers says. He nudges you with the nose of the lasgun and you snarl — you actually snarl — upper lip pulled back, blue-on-blue eyes glinting with hatred.

A trapped animal, desperate for freedom. Feyd-Rautha feels his cock stir.

“For now,” he says. He raises a hand. “Leave us.”

The soldiers exchange indecipherable glances before leaving, ducking back out into the blazing sun. Feyd-Rautha steps as close to you as he dares. Even with your limbs bound, he’s certain that you would do anything in your power to maim him.

“Your silence rings empty among the cries of those you loved,” he tells you. He towers over you, a sentinel of dangerous, crackling energy, wreathed in black armor. “The others are gone. Dead. What service is your silence to them?”

You stare up at him with your seething gaze.

Feyd-Rautha crouches beside you. Your hostility is nearly enough to bowl him over, a tangible, living creature between you.

“If you deny me this now, I will have no choice but to make you.”

He lifts a gloved hand to your cheek, lovingly whispering his fingers over the curve of your face before grabbing your chin. His grasp is enough to spring tears to your eyes, causing you to bite your tongue and draw blood, its coppery taste filling your mouth.

You should hate him. He stands for everything you’ve rallied against. Hell, he had just ordered his men to obliterate your home, your people. Yet you find yourself incomprehensibly drawn to this man who exudes power as effortlessly as others can breathe. It infuriates you. Revolts you.

Your aching, traitorous body pools with heat as Feyd-Rautha parts your lips and forces his thumb into your mouth. Sand grits over your teeth. His gloves taste of dry leather. Of blood; though it could very well just be your own. He presses his thumb down with enough force to shatter your jaw.

Feyd-Rautha rasps, “Then, since you refuse to speak, I will give your mouth a different purpose.”

He wrests his hand from your chin and pain explodes through your skull.

Feyd-Rautha rises once more to his formidable height and works to liberate his cock from his armor. You watch, horrified, transfixed, as he pulls his pants down just enough to show his powerful thighs and reveal a stomach taunt with muscles. His cock springs free and he wastes no time wrapping his hand at the base and stroking it fervently, all the while gazing down at you with naked, unfettered devotion.

And for some reason the sight of him like that transcends you, strips you completely bare. Your entire body trembles.

The na-Baron fists the hair at the back of your head and, without preamble, guides you to his cock, groaning as the warmth and wetness of your mouth envelops him. Anger flaring, you bite down as hard as you’re able — but instead of revoking himself, Feyd-Rautha snaps his hips, driving him deeper into your mouth instead.

He pants his appreciation, clearly undeterred by your teeth.

You gag on his size. He refuses to ease up, however, pushing his cock deeper into the back of your throat. With each thrust, saliva builds, leaking from the sides of your mouth and wetting his shaft. You have no way to retaliate, to pull away, forced to endure him.

He withdraws long enough to show you the glint of pre-cum on his cock, how he spreads it across the head before burrowing it inside you again. The taste of his pre-cum is salty, mixing with your blood, and you can no longer deny your own arousal — you clamp your lips on his cock and suck, using your tongue to circle the salty mixture over it.

Feyd-Rautha releases a rumbling, guttural moan, hips bucking violently. “That’s right,” he rasps. “Take it.” He ignores your strangled pleas as he pushes himself deeper and deeper within you, tears now streaming down your face and cutting tracks through the sandy grime. He pulls out only to insert himself again, in and out, fucking your throat.

You’re unable to touch yourself, or him, and it makes the entire act that much more torturous. You apply this frustration with your mouth, sucking his considerable length every time he jams it past your lips, your mouth and jaw aching with the furious nature of the fucking.

Feyd-Rautha closes his eyes and loses himself in your slick mouth. He has just laid waste to your people and now you were taking him like the good little rat you were, a renegade whore, letting him force his cock down your throat and you were actually enjoying it.

Without warning, Feyd-Rautha withdraws from you, stroking his shaft and positioning himself before you. “Open,” he demands.

You obey and as soon as you do, warm sprays of his ink-colored cum soak your face. He jerks himself through his orgasm, breathy and primal, smooth brows furrowed in concentration. You breathe heavily, shoulders heaving, greedily drawing the air back into your lungs. It’s then that Feyd-Rautha drags his gloved fingers across your face, smearing his cum then pushing his fingers back into your mouth. You lick and slurp down his seed, languishing in the taste of him, unlike anything you’ve had before.

To offer your expense to a Fremen is to offer your life’s water. You don’t know if he realizes this, or even cares, he just watches you as you suck his gloved fingers clean.

Feyd-Rautha does know this sacrifice, this offering, and thinks it a just trade for what he’s prepared to do. He rights himself, fixing his armor. “Strange, what you wish to comply with,” he says. He leaves you like that — bound and covered with his cum, vulnerable — and as he vanishes around the corner you hear him call out, “Dispose of the rat.”

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ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter three

ain't no rest for the wicked series

three: been sinnin' in this city

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 5.7k

summary: Tess and Joel go AWOL for a while, but return with a gift.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, stalking, canon-typical violence, threesome, cum eating, light rope bondage, cloth gag, spanking, punishment, sub drop, aftercare, strap-on, anal sex, rimming, light angst, edging, orgasm denial

IMPORTANT NOTE: I have updated the warnings on the masterlist to reflect that this has a bittersweet (imo) ending. It's not a happily ever after. Please feel free to DM me if you want to know spoilers before you decide if you will continue reading.

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Soon” doesn’t quite happen. It’s a month before you hear from them.

Honestly, you had forced yourself to accept that it was over. Maybe Joel coming over alone was crossing a line.

Not that it stops you from looking over your shoulder or getting your hopes up when you come home. But there isn’t even a moment where you feel watched from afar. You consider drawing a line of flour across your threshold, but you have a feeling it’d be undisturbed when you get back, no matter if they came or not.

The disappointment sits bitter at the base of your throat.

That is, until you get home one evening, soaked from head to toe in sleet, and Tess is in your apartment.

When you walk in, you’re too busy trying to get your soaked boots and coat off with minimal sludge on your floor to notice. But when you do, you jerk so fast you nearly slide on the wet floor, falling back against the door.

“What the fuck,” you gasp, trying to recover from the embarrassing screech.

“Joel was right. You really ain’t got a sense of your surroundings, huh?”

“Not in my own home! M’not supposed to have to—“

She smirks.

Not that you notice; too distracted by where she’s lounging. It’s your bed but also it very much is not.

Your mattress is set up on a wooden frame. It’s not fancy, just unstained boards, but it looks well-crafted and sturdy.

“Um,” you say.

“Gonna come try it out?”

“What?”

“Don’t you like it, sunflower?”

“I-I do, I’m just—“

“I told you, we’ll take care of you.” The smirk is gone, now. She’s startlingly serious.

“You said when I’m at yours,” you say.

“Did Joel not take care of you while he was here?”

“No, he did, I—“

She sits up and grabs your wrist, tugging you over. You follow easily, acquiescing when she pulls you on the bed and manhandles you…

(womanhandles you? Are you failing feminism? Where does the movement stand at the end of the world?)

… until you’re laying beside her with your head on her stomach.

“Isn’t this more comfortable?” she says.

She’s so soft, and she smells so good. You’re a little unfocused between taking deep breaths and curling your arm around her waist. “Yes, ma’am,” you say.

She grins. “Good girl.”

For a moment, you are both content to lay there. It really is comfortable. Soon, though, you’re pressing absentminded kisses to her stomach and nuzzling her breasts.

She rubs her hand up and down your back.

Your hand twitches near the hem of her shirt. “Um,” you mumble, anxious fingers fiddling with the folded fabric.

She lifts just enough to tug it off, going after yours in nearly the same motion. Your mouth waters.

She snaps your bra strap. “Off.”

You scramble to obey, not even bothering to unhook it but yanking the old, worn cotton over your head and tossing it to the floor.

She grins at your over-eagerness, but you barely notice, unabashedly focused on her tits.

“Please,” you whisper.

She nods, and before she can voice the answer, you find yourself clinging to her.

Huh.

Funny.

You had meant to latch your mouth around her nipple, but you’re practically climbing her to get close.

Her skin against yours feels like heaven. The creeping loneliness that burrowed into your bones hurts more than ever. At the same time, though, it’s beginning to bleed out.

She gasps softly as your nails dig into her side. Not enough to hurt but enough that she seems to recognize your desperation.

“I know, sunflower. I’m sorry,” she murmurs, holding you tight, just on the right side of painful. But you need it. The twinge in your ribs is giving you more comfort than you’ve known in weeks.

You nuzzle into her chest, placing kisses across her skin that swiftly shift from soft to sloppy. You suck and lick at any inch you can reach, finally mouthing your way to her breasts. Every brush scatters sparks across your shoulders and between your ribs, leaving you shuddering and gasping against her.

She moans as you lave at each hardened bud, and holds your head with an unforgiving grip when you suckle at one. Her back arches, pushing the fat of her breast into your face.

You don’t mind. Oxygen doesn’t seem super important right now. Her other hand has captured one of your own nipples, and she pinches and tugs harshly, her moans drawn out when you whimper against her.

She laughs, and it’s on the edge of cruel, but you’re unbothered.

“Look at you,” she teases. “So fuckin’ needy, huh?”

You hadn’t even realized, but you’ve thrown a leg over hers and are rocking your hips against her thigh.

“M’sorry,” you pant, after pulling off her breast with a lewd pop. You go to move away.

“Don’t stop; it’s cute,” she says, guiding you by the back of your head to her other breast.

Heat spreads across your face but also through your spine until it pools between your thighs. Fuck it, your brain decides, before it turns off for the day.

You’re gasping as you mouth at her, your panties dragging against your clit as you grind.

She slides her hands down and tugs at them, and you quickly lift and help her wiggle them off before sliding down to dispose of hers.

You had planned on returning to her tits and maybe trying to make out, but now that you’re down here, making out with her pussy seems like a much better idea.

You press a soft kiss to her thigh and look up at her, but she surprises you and reaches her hand out to pull you back up.

She guides you, pushing and pulling your pliant limbs where she likes. You let go of the knots anxiety tied to hold you stiff and quiet, a tug behind your ribcage urging you to give in, give up, give everything to Tess.

Something hazy and lax trickles through your veins—it doesn’t go unnoticed, either.

“There you go,” she croons as you gaze up at her.

You didn’t even really notice her laying you down or getting on top of you, but you don’t think about it for long because her knee slides up to your core, grinding until it pushes against your clit.

She catches your moan in a kiss just as she settles her cunt against your thigh.

The feeling of her heat on your leg sends your hips canting against the relentless pressure of her knee. As you squirm and buck, your thigh moves against her, and she moans, biting at your lips until they part with a gasp.

She’s less rough with you than Joel but no less commanding. Her hands grip true and firm, and one winds its way around your neck to squeeze at the sides as she kisses you. You can’t tell which makes you dizzier, but either way, you writhe beneath her just the way she intended.

“I know you’re his,” she murmurs against your swollen lips. “But you’re mine, too, ain’tcha?”

You nod frantically, or at least to the best of your ability, trapped as you are. She eases up a little to let you gasp. You manage to squeak out a “yes, ma’am,” before she increases the pressure again. You’re squirming now, each wriggle of your body bringing you together in a rush of warm, wet ecstasy.

“That’s right,” she says before releasing your throat and focusing her attention on grinding against you. “You wanna cum, sunflower?” Her finger tweaks your nipple.

You reach for her breasts with one hand, the other settling on her thigh, where she’s spread across you. “Want you to,” you pant.

“Oh, I plan on it,” she says. Her smirk is intoxicating, and so is the way her hair falls around her face while she looks down at you. “But you’re gonna cum now.”

Her voice permits no choice, and she jerks her knee against your cunt. The shock and delicious pain of it have you obeying immediately, with her not far behind.

She, at least, has the sense of mind to cover your mouth with her hand. When she’s coming down from her high, she slides it slightly to cover your nose, too.

“Cum again, baby,” she says.

You cling to her with bruising fingers as you cum, and everything goes fuzzy and gray. She pulls her hand away at the last second, rolling her hips against your leg until she cums again, too.

“Please,” you sob.

She doesn’t need you to explain, just rolls back until you can pull your leg out from under her and lunge, burying your face between her thighs.

Her nails scratch against your scalp, and she gasps when you suck on her swollen clit. She lets you lick and draw two more orgasms out of her before she pulls you away from her cunt.

“No more,” she scolds when you whine. “I don’t wanna be sore tomorrow when you come over.”

“Oh, am I coming over tomorrow?” you tease.

“Well, I just said you were, didn’t I? Don’t be late.”

You frown, something too close to a pout, when she rises from the bed and pulls her clothes back on.

“I know,” she says softly, pinching your chin. “You be good and get some sleep, okay? You’re gonna need it.”

She pauses, looking at your bathroom door. “You really got mice in there on purpose?”

You bury your face in your hands and nod. “I can scare ‘em off if you need it.”

She snorts and shakes her head, something almost fond in her eyes, something that will haunt you. “Nah, leave ‘em be.” With one last kiss to your forehead, she slips out of the door.

You hesitate, but get up and lock all the locks behind her.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t expecting Joel to be outside your work. He isn’t, though. You hesitate for a minute, wondering if it means you shouldn’t go over after all.

In the end, your cunt makes the call, and you find your way to their apartment successfully. Look at that, you think. You were paying attention, after all. They never need to know you knocked on two wrong doors first.

Tess opens the third door and smiles. You flush immediately and give her a soft smile back, slipping inside and toeing off your boots. Once you set your bag by the door, you sink onto your knees. It’s all you could think about at work, and you don’t have the strength to fight the urge.

She ruffles your hair. “Look how good you are, pretty girl.”

Your eyes close briefly at the praise, and you look up at her. The fluorescent yellow bulb is obscured behind her head, warmth framing her like a halo.

“Unfortunately, Joel’s not been so good today, sunflower. You’re going to help me remind him how, okay?”

She gives you a hand and doesn’t let go after you stand, leading you into the bedroom. You freeze, though, when you see Joel tied to the bedposts with short lengths of rope and a bandana shoved in his mouth.

He squeezes his eyes tight when he sees you like he can block out the way your eyes are wide and brows furrowed. The shame burns across his body, but more than that, he aches to wipe the concern off your face.

So, he opens his eyes and forces himself into something calm. Accepting. He twitches two fingers against his bond to beckon you.

“Go ahead,” Tess gives you a little shove.

Logically, you know he submits to her. You’ve seen it. But it’s never been like this, never been him restrained or suffering.

He’s usually more like a devoted beast, content to kiss the hand that feeds.

Either way, you go to him and obediently duck so he can cup your face to the best of his ability. You press a kiss to his palm before looking to Tess.

“Someone here decided he couldn’t wait and jerked himself off in the shower this morning, even though you were comin’ over,” she says.

You look at Joel, baffled by the way you almost feel… hurt? It doesn’t make sense, but Tess’s tone seemed to imply you should.

She laughs at the look on your face. “Told ya,” she says to Joel. She comes up behind you, one arm slung across your collarbone and the other hand curling under your chin to grip your jaw. “Little slut’s disappointed.”

You, as always, burn for her amusement.

“Ain’t that right? You woulda been willing to help him out, huh?” she asks. Her grip on your jaw jerks your head up and down even as you’re whimpering, “Yes, ma’am.”

He spits the bandana out. “Told you, I wouldn’t have lasted. Had to take the edge off.”

Oh, she knows. She had come home last night and stroked his cock while telling him all about her visit. She hadn’t let him cum, then, either.

“That’s not for you to decide,” she says, letting you go so she can stuff his mouth full again. “Guess you gotta learn.”

She turns to you. “Climb up and get comfortable between his legs.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He growls. You look sad, and he doesn’t like it. It doesn’t suit you.

Tess catches his eye and looks you over. “Hey,” she says, a hand on your shoulder. “You trust me?”

“Yes, ma’am.” And you mean it, more than you realized.

“Then stop feelin’ bad for him and help him out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you murmur and climb up onto the bed, finding a home for yourself between his thighs. The dark hair tickles your nose when you press a kiss to the inside of his leg, nuzzling your cheek against it.

You’re not stupid, but you think you might be an idiot. You know what this is. And what it isn’t. But the way your chest warms at being close, at being allowed to see him vulnerable, at being coddled a little by the both of them—well, it’s dangerous.

When Tess rubs a hand over your back and whispers “good girl,” in your ear, you decide you don’t care. So what if your foolish heart is collateral? How many times since the world ended have you gotten to feel anything? You don’t need forever; you just need whatever you have in these moments.

So you’ll take it and swallow it up, bottle it inside for when you need something soft and warm at the end of a bad day.

Unfortunately, all the thinking about things that aren’t has you jittering your right leg. It’s tucked under you and jostles your whole body a little. Your head rests on Joel’s thigh, a torturous inch from his leaking cock.

But you know better. And so you wait.

She takes her sweet time, letting him watch you watch precum leak down. The longer she leaves you there in silence, the more the buzzing in your brain fades to a gentle breeze. Your leg stops its fussing, and you breathe deeper, easier. His thigh is wide and warm, and you’re close enough to smell the deep musk of him.

It makes your mouth water and your mind quiet. She comes back over, and you shudder when her fingers trip up the length of your spine until they come to rest on the back of your neck.

“Go real slow,” she says. “Just kisses and licks, for now.”

You’re in a haze; the world narrowed to her voice and his cock. First, you wipe his leaking slit clean with the broad stripe of your tongue before kissing it softly. He groans, but it settles into a whine when you kiss down the underside until you reach his balls.

They’re hanging at a bit of an awkward angle for you to reach, so you shift to sink lower, steadying yourself with a hand on each of his thighs. You don’t think you’ve ever gotten to properly appreciate him like this, to feel the velvet skin against your cheek as you nuzzle in.

Tess’s hand stays steady on the back of your neck, tethering you to the world without having to focus on the threadbare sheets or the clangs and shouts from the open window.

You’re not sure how long you spend like that, wrapping your tongue around wherever you can reach without actually taking him into your mouth. He’s twitching here and there, rewarding you with tiny tastes of him as you go.

She tugs on your neck, pulling you back. You whine, but he whimpers louder. She lets both of you sit and catch your breath for a moment before she’s pushing you down again.

“Just the tip,” she tells you with a playful wink at Joel.

You wrap your lips around it and can’t help but suck hard. His hips jerk up, but Tess is faster, pulling you out of his reach.

“Hold still,” she says, swatting at his thigh. “Be grateful for what you’re getting.”

She waits until he nods before pushing you back down. You try to be gentler, a softer, pulsing pressure, but he’s squirming beneath you, and you’re aching to have him deeper, sliding just a little further onto his shaft.

Tess yanks you by the neck away from him and fixes you with a stern scowl.

“I’m sorry! I’ll be good,” you cry.

“You better be,” she warns and pushes you back down.

By the time she lets you bury him in your throat, your knees are aching, and Joel is shaking with the effort to hold still. You don’t like the way he gasps and struggles; each sound sending a hairline fracture through something in your chest.

You don’t need to look to know he has tears in his eyes. You can hear it in the ragged breaths and grit of his teeth.

The sun has set. It has to have been at least an hour, maybe two, since this all started.

He lets out a wounded sound, and your own follows.

“Hey,” Tess’s voice cuts through Joel’s whimpers. She tugs at you gently, and you pull off.

“Why’re you crying, sunflower?” she says.

You don’t know how she knew it wasn’t from choking on his cock. It wasn’t like you hadn’t gotten teary before. You weren’t even really sure you were crying. But now that she’s asked, your chest feels tight.

Joel’s focused on you, too, throbbing cock forgotten for a moment.

“I’m okay,” you say, but it’s hardly convincing after it breaks on a sobbing gasp. “I-I—“

She gets on the bed and pulls you into her lap, where you curl around her and begin to cry in earnest. With one hand, she’s able to tug one of Joel’s free, and he’s more than capable of undoing the other.

He sits up on his knees and hovers, hands clenching and unclenching at his side. Tess cradles you and whispers soothing nothings.

Joel finally reaches out and puts his hand on the back of your neck, cupping close. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

When you feel his hand on you, unmistakably Joel, both in the breadth of his grip and considering you know where both of Tess’s hands are, you peek up to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and the chest-wracking gasps take over again. “I’m sorry.”

You’re clinging; you know you are. But it feels all wrong, all jumbled in your chest, like instead of finishing the puzzle, someone just jammed the pieces together until they stuck, no matter the damage.

“Why’re you sorry, huh? You did exactly as you were told,” he says, thumb rubbing over the nape of your neck.

“I don’t know, I feel sad,” you mumble into Tess’s shoulder.

Tess rubs her hand between your shoulder blades. “That was too confusing for you, huh? Put you in a weird place? Like you betrayed him a little bit?”

You nod, rubbing your hand over your clavicle. “Feels wrong.”

“I’m sorry, sunflower.” She kisses your forehead. “You need him to forgive you?”

Your throat is cinched around stone. All you can do is nod.

“Hey, c’mere,” Joel says and pulls you from her lap to his.

You curl up with your face buried in the crook of his arm.

“Ain’t nothin’ to forgive,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head.

Your inhale sounds mortifyingly like a sob.

Tess shakes her head and raises an eyebrow at him, knowing he gets the same way. “You need to show her. Prove it. Let her earn it.”

“That what ya need? Need your own punishment, remember your place?”

You nod frantically against his collarbone.

“Okay, sweet girl. I can do that.”

Once you’ve settled and the tears subsided, he pries you away and tilts your chin up to look at him. “Lay across my lap.”

You remember his threat from your apartment, and for whatever reason, warmth spreads from your chest to your toes.

He helps you shift into position, arranging you how he wants. A broad hand splays across your hips while the other grips you by the jaw.

“Look at you. You’re just a little girl who needs a spanking, huh?” His grip intensifies, craning your neck.

“Yes sir,” you cry.

“Say it.”

“I—I’m just a little girl who needs a spanking.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“‘Cause you’ll take care of me.”

It’s not the answer any of you expected. Tess gives a low whistle. Joel’s grip on your jaw slackens just a little.

His other hand comes up to brush against your cheek. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, it’s softer, quieter. “That’s right. I’m gonna take care of ya.”

Your lip quivers, and you don’t know why. Everything is suddenly in stereo sound. Your scalp stings. The brush of his dry finger scrapes against the apple of your cheek. There’s a crack opening somewhere, maybe your throat, maybe your stomach.

Tess runs a hand through Joel’s hair, and he releases your jaw, broad palm finding purchase on the upturned curve of your back.

“Jus’ relax ‘n let me take care of ya,” he rumbles.

The first hit is soft. A test. You don’t flinch when he lifts his hand to strike you again.

The third one stings, and you huff out a breath but hold steady. His hand on your back seems to be supporting your entire spine, given that the rest of you feels like it may melt into the horrible carpet. Another stain in their apartment, but at least this one will bring good memories. You hope.

You might have spent more on the thought, but the next smack lands hard and heavy, and you yelp, nails digging into his calf where they cling for stability. Physical and mental.

“Shh, you’re alright,” he says, rubbing his thumb back and forth where it lays.

The next hit is hard again. And the next. And the three after that.

You’re wriggling in his lap now, not trying to escape but simply squirming after each spank as if you could douse the fire he’s started.

He rubs your ass where his palm had just bounced from, and you suck in a soft hiss.

“I want to give you five more,” he says. “Can you take it?”

You don’t even think about it. “Yes, sir,” you say, shuddering.

His hand cracks down hard before you can brace yourself, and you whimper, kicking your feet a little and squirming.

The next one pushes the tears over the edge as you cry out, writhing a little.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good, darlin’,” he croons.

You want nothing more than to believe him. The words sink beneath your skin, and you expect them to itch like all praise. But they don’t.

The next three aren’t as harsh. At least, you think they aren’t? You’re feeling kind of sleepy. Or dizzy. Maybe both.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you up seated in his lap. “You took that so well. So good for us, baby.”

Tess hands you a glass of water and kisses the top of your head. She kisses Joel’s, too.

“Y’did good, sweet boy,” she tells him.

You sip at the water while they kiss, something silent passing overhead. You don’t try to catch it; it’s not for you.

You feel quiet. Like sitting there in Joel’s lap, drinking your water is the only thing in your life. Nothing buzzes behind your skull; nothing sends you jittering and twitching and bouncing. It’s… well, it’s quiet.

“Alright, I think you’ve both earned a reward,” Tess says.

Joel looks up at her.

She grins. “I’m going to fuck you while you fuck her.”

His grip on your waist tightens. “Can I…”

“Yes, I’ll let you come, baby,” she says. “I think you learned your lesson. And you’ve done such a good job with our girl there.”

You’re leaning against his chest, now, listening to the rumble of his voice. You’re not really sure what they’re talking about, but you think maybe you’re going to get fucked now. Which sounds great. You sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut.

“Hey,” he jostles you a little. “You awake enough to fuck?”

“Mhm.”

He nudges you again, and you blink up at him. “I’m awake,” you whine, nuzzling into his neck and setting your teeth gently against the tendon in protest.

“Didn’t you just get spanked?” he scolds. “You need another round?”

“No,” you mumble, even though maybe your pussy is saying yes. But you’re starting to think she doesn’t have your best interests in mind. “I dunno. Maybe later.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Lay down,” he says, pushing slowly at your shoulder. You whine and cling with your arms around his neck. He wants you to move? It seems so cruel.

You tell him so, and he rolls his eyes before slipping an arm under your knees and standing up. You squeak.

You try to bury your face further into Joel, but he dumps you unceremoniously on the bed.

You pout, and he smirks as he prowls, trapping you between his knees and bringing your arms up over your head.

“You wanna keep up the attitude? I don’t have to let you cum tonight,” he says as he cages you in.

You whimper, less at his words than at the way you’re throbbing. “I’ll be good,” you whisper.

“Wanna try that again?”

“I’ll be good, sir.”

He kisses your forehead, still looming over you. “Yeah, you will.”

“You want her to help get you ready, baby?” Tess says.

“Oh fuck,” Joel whispers. He looks down at you. “Ever eaten ass, princess?”

You can’t help the moan that slips out, nodding. “Not in a long time.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Y’keep sayin’ that. How long was it for ya, before us?”

You flush and suddenly can’t look at him. “Like. Years. Too long.”

“Don’t gotta be shy about it, sunflower,” Tess says. “We were just curious.”

Mortifyingly, you realize that means they talked about you when you weren’t there. Of course, they did, but you didn’t think it really went beyond “Hey did you like that” and “Do we want to fuck her again?”

“Oh god,” you whisper.

“C’mon and put that mouth to better use,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. He tugs you down further on the mattress before kneeling at the top of the bed, knees bracketing your head.

You don’t waste time, leaning forward to first lick at his balls before dragging your tongue back. You can’t help but nip at his butt. He pinches at your breast in return, and you grin as you drag your tongue in circles, coming close but never quite touching where he needs you.

He gasps when you finally lick across his hole, soaking him in your saliva but only using soft, light touches. He grinds down onto your face, forcing you to devote your attention to him, kissing and licking until your face is covered in your own spit from how buried in him you are.

It’s your turn to gasp when, just as you press the tip of your tongue inside him, Tess slides two fingers into your cunt and curls them. Having regained control of the situation, Joel gropes at your breasts, tugging your nipples until they’re stretched almost too painfully, and you don’t really recognize the wet sounds above you right away.

You almost cum when you realize they’re making out as they toy with you. Tess works you open with three fingers now as you twirl your tongue in tight circles. She pulls her hand free and breaks the kiss just to shove her fingers into his mouth. He sucks and licks your slick from her, and when she pulls her hand away, they both move in tandem without speaking a word.

He moves down off the bed to bury his face between your legs, bent at the waist so she can work lubed-up fingers into his ass. He moans against your clit, and you writhe under the weight of his strong arm across your hips.

He smacks your hip. “Cum,” he growls, pinching your clit and licking as deep as he can inside you. You do, crying out just a little too loud and wincing at the sound.

“Don’t,” Tess scolds. “Let us hear you, sunflower.”

“B-but—”

“You think we give a fuck about the neighbors?” She pulls back from Joel and slaps his ass. “C’mon, give her your cock now.”

He taps your thigh and jerks his head toward the top of the bed. You scoot back a little.

“Ready, sunflower? You want me t’fill you up?” His fist is wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Please, sir,” you say, spreading your legs wide and tilting your hips up.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs. Once he’s settled on top of you, Tess grabs him by the hair.

“Just the tip, baby,” she says. “Let me fuck you into her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says while you moan.

He notches himself at your slit and gently pushes until the head of his cock is nestled inside you. His hands are balled into fists where they cage you in, and his chest heaves with the effort. After all the wretched edging earlier, he’s not actually sure he can hold back.

“Good boy,” Tess murmurs.

It helps, at least until he hears the vibrator click to life inside her. She moans and adjusts the harness a little before she slaps his ass and pushes in agonizingly slow.

It doesn’t stay slow. She drags it out just until you both are desperate before grabbing his hips and shoving the rest of her strap in. It knocks him forward to split you open.

You think you might actually die this time. How is it that she keeps coming up with even better ways to fuck?

You expect him to try to take control, but he lets her set the unforgiving rhythm, fucking herself on the cock held tight inside her by the harness and taking Joel apart with the other half. Each time her hips crash into him, he rocks into you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel grunts, leaning down to bite at your tits so you writhe and whine beneath him.

You grip one of his biceps and reach up for Tess with the other hand. She entwines your fingers, grinning as you grip on desperately. Joel’s teeth have found your neck, leaving marks for you to find later.

You’re not sure how many times you cum. Or Tess, for that matter. Joel manages two. When Tess takes pity on him for the first, he breaks apart so hard that he buries his face in your tits, biting down and leaving hot tears behind. She fucks him through it, and he never goes fully soft, still twitching and throbbing inside you.

When he starts to protest from the overstimulation, she clicks her tongue at him. “No. Another.”

“I can’t,” he whimpers.

“Yeah, you can. Don’t you want him to cum again, sunflower?”

“Uh-huh,” is all you manage as the breath gets knocked out of you on each thrust.

“Be a good boy and cum for me again,” she says. She lets go of your hand to wrap hers around his throat.

You moan, remembering the way she held yours just yesterday.

He gets a glint in his eye even as they glaze over a little, and slides his hand up to do the same to you.

“Fuck, look at you,” Tess says, eyes flicking between you. “Both bein’ so good for me.”

It’s really all it takes. Joel starts to cum first, and when you feel him jerk inside you, this orgasm forcing some of his first load out to pool on the sheet, you snap, warmth flooding you as you tremble beneath them.

All of it sends Tess over the edge, too, and she reaches out to stroke your cheek as she cums, her other hand still loosely cupping Joel’s neck.

Joel’s shaking as he holds himself over you carefully, waiting as Tess gently pulls out. He follows, concern in his wrinkles as you wince.

“M’ok,” you mumble.

Tess goes to head to the bathroom for a towel but he stops her, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips. He jerks his head to the bed, and she sighs but crawls beside you to let him handle cleanup.

You watch him, brow furrowed just a little. He should be more tired than either of you.

“He likes to take care of me,” she says. “Of both of us. Sometimes, we just gotta let him.” She tucks an arm under you, and you roll to wrap your arm around her waist.

Tess insists they walk you home that night. “But will you make it back before curfew?” you try to protest.

“Y’ain’t gotta worry about us,” Joel cuts in gruffly. “We’re the ones that gotta worry about you.”

You bite your lip but don���t argue. There’s no point once they’ve decided something, anyway.

Something about it feels off, like you’re in someone else’s skin, but then she slips her hand into yours. Joel trails behind you, scowl firmly locked in place as he shoots dark looks around.

You draw the line at them coming into the building. It feels sickeningly silly, like you’re playing pretend in dangerous waters. Your firm “no” doesn’t stop Tess from kissing your cheek or Joel from rubbing your shoulder before you go inside.

You’d always been fine by yourself before, but your new bed feels cold and lonely.

next chapter

*title from "HandClap" by Fitz and the Tantrums

[stevieharringtonwifeguy]

after my post about steve being just as obsessed with eddie as he is with him, i had to write something for it. with a little extra transfem!stevie flavour bc i have a serious problem

also on ao3 here

Robin has had enough. She’s spent all this time telling Stevie she’d always be there for her, but this is where she draws the line.

Stevie’s staring at Eddie Munson again.

Robin looked up from her shitty cafeteria food when she heard a dreamy sigh come from her best friend. Stevie had that look on her face again, the hopelessly besotted one that made Robin sure cartoony little love hearts would start popping up next to her head. Robin followed her eyeline and, yep, there was Eddie Munson, super-senior leader of the dungeons and dragons club, sticking carrot sticks up his nose to the uproarious laughter of his group of nerd friends. Robin shook her head in appalled fascination.

“Stevie. Babes. Why.”

Stevie turned towards her, tilting her head in confusion. “Huh? Why what?”

Robin waved a hand towards Eddie’s table. “Your obsession with Eddie Munson. It baffles me.”

“Wh- I mean-” Stevie flushed, looking back across the cafeteria with a shy little smile. “Just look at him, Robs.”

“Yeah, I’m looking. He’s trying to sneeze out a carrot stick he got stuck in his nose.”

Stevie giggled. “I know, he’s so funny!”

Shaking her head, Robin placed a delicate hand on her friend’s arm. “You don’t have to do this, y’know. I know pickings have been slim since you came out, but like. You’re still a catch! You have options!”

Stevie frowns. Robin hadn’t wanted to say it, but she knew Stevie had taken her ‘fall from grace’ after she transitioned pretty hard. She’d gone from King of Hawkins High to near social untouchable, and the whiplash had her privately confessing to Robin that sometimes she felt unlovable, like no one would ever want her again. It was ridiculous, but Robin understood that insecurity. She combatted it by complimenting Stevie whenever she could. And now by trying to dissuade her best friend from falling ass over tits in love with the first weirdo to be nice to her post-transition.

“It’s not that. He’s just so…” Stevie waved her hands around vaguely, searching for a word to accurately describe the apparent wonder that was Eddie Munson. Across the cafeteria, Eddie finally got the carrot stick out of his nose. He threw it towards the bin a foot away and missed, spectacularly. “He’s himself. It’s nice.”

“He’s himself.”

“Yeah! Like, he’s passionate about everything he does, and he’s not afraid of being judged for anything. It’s nice! Most people aren’t like that.”

“Most people are definitely not like Eddie Munson.”

Stevie rolled her eyes at her friend’s flat tone. “Plus, he’s super hot. And you can’t say anything about that one- you’re too gay to be an accurate judge.”

Robin groaned. “Steph, he dresses like an 80s vampire.”

“He has a distinct style!”

“It’s distinct alright- hey!”

Stevie had apparently had enough of Robin’s bitching, reaching over and trapping her in a loving sisterly headlock. They scrapped for a couple minutes, nearly knocking both their lunches off the cafeteria table, before being interrupted with a light cough.

Both girls looked up, Stevie immediately blushing a gentle pink as Eddie Munson appeared before them. He seemed nervous, fiddling with his rings and chewing on his lip. Robin watched the two stare at each other, and oh god. Eddie was down just as bad as Stevie was. He giggled a little manically at Stevie’s attention, pulling a lock of hair in front of his face and hiding behind it.

“Hi, Eddie,” Stevie said in a little breathless tone that had Robin about five seconds away from face-palming. She considered pulling out her phone and recording this conversation, just so that next time Dustin implied Stevie was some kind of goddess of romance Robin could show him the dumb little face she made as she stared at Eddie Munson’s chapped lips. “What’s up?”

Eddie smiled, shuffling his feet a little. “Um, so, my band is playing this Thursday- oh! Wait, I got you something-” He rummaged around in his bag for a second, cursing under his breath, before he finally pulled out a slightly crumpled looking sunflower and presented it to Stevie with a flourish. “A sunflower! Just reminded me of you- because you’re so sunny. Also it kind of matches that sweater you like.”

Stevie’s grin was blinding. She took the flower like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Oh my god! This is- Eddie this is beautiful!”

Eddie grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet a little bit, as if Stevie’s acceptance of his gift had filled him with so much happiness he was in danger of floating away. It was, unfortunately, the cutest thing Robin had ever seen. 

“A beautiful flower for a beautiful girl,�� he said, and the cringiness of the line had Robin taking back every positive thing she’d ever thought about him. Stevie seemed to enjoy it though, if the pleased blush that spread over her face was any indication. “But I wanted to ask you- totally cool if not, I know it’s not really your style- but I’ve been practising some new songs for y- I’ve been practising some new songs. So, yeah, if you wanted-”

“Eddie,” Stevie interrupted, smiling up at him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. Eddie turned bright red. “Thursday, right? It sounds fun, I’d love to come watch you play.”

“Really? Great! I can pick you up at seven?”

Stevie nodded happily, bringing the sunflower to her face and turning back to Eddie with another besotted grin. “Seven sounds perfect! I’ll see you then! Just let me- I’m gonna go put this in my locker so it doesn’t get squished, but- yeah, I’m really looking forward to it!”

Stevie stood up, grabbing her bag, and hurrying out of the cafeteria. When she reached the door, she turned back and gave Eddie a happy little wave, which he returned with a sort of dazed look on his face. As soon as she was out of the door, he did a weird little jump/fist-bump combination with a loud whoop that had everyone in the immediate vicinity looking over at him.

Robin cleared her throat pointedly.

Eddie looked at her with a sort of deer-in-headlights expression that honestly she appreciated. Let him be scared of her. “So,” she said. “You’re taking my best friend out.”

Eddie blushed a bit, smiling despite his apparent survival instinct. “Yeah,” he said, dreamily. “God, she’s so out of my league.”

“She is.”

“She’s just so… wow.”

“Eloquent.”

“One time I saw her bodily lift that curly-haired kid she babysits out of the way of a car. Like fully carry him a foot off the ground for five steps. And then yell at him for like ten minutes for being a dumbass. What a woman.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, shit,” he said, looking down at Robin with a panicked look on his face. “You’re like, her sister basically, right? Was I supposed to get your permission to ask her out? Wait, no, that’s marriage. Later, then.”

“Okay, that’s enough of this,” Robin said, throwing her hands up and stalking out of the cafeteria, leaving a befuddled looking Eddie behind her.

They were just as bad as each other. Robin had a feeling she’d be cringing at those two at their wedding.

[ihearthes]

Christmas Thyme part 1

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 2665

‘Tis a week before Christmas, and just as I am preparing to twist the “Open” sign to its “Closed” side, the bell over the door jingles. Inwardly, I groan. Outwardly, I paste on my brightest smile as I pivot towards my (hopefully) final customer of a very long, very exhausting day. 

I freeze. 

Because standing there in the doorway of my boutique is Harry Styles. THE Harry Styles. You know. As It Was. Watermelon Sugar. Sex on a stick. That last one isn’t a song. Just a description. 

“Um, hi,” I mumble, not knowing what else to say, but then I quickly tack on a “How may I help you?” 

His eyebrows draw downwards, and he looks around at the merchandise which, after a long day of Saturday sales in the last few frantic days before the most important gift-buying holiday of the year, is scattered everywhere. 

I’ve no idea if I want him to decide to leave immediately or if I should beg him to stay and shop. I do neither. 

But only because I spot another person on the street outside, pointing at one of the most sought after and most frequently purchased soy candles. She and her friend appear to be heading towards the door, so I summon the last of my energy and lunge for the door ahead of them, pulling the shade while simultaneously rotating the lock. My panicked movements mean I jostle the popstar as he stands nearby. 

“Oops! I’m so sorry. I just…” 

“Are you open or closed?” He asks, worry etched on his forehead where it peeks out underneath his black beanie. I take him in, recognising his face instantly. With a pair of joggers, he wears a black Pleasing crewneck, and I’m briefly jealous of how cosy it looks. I wouldn’t mind snuggling close – to the crewneck, of course. 

I am, after all, a competent businesswoman. Pfft. Okay, I’m trying to be one. 

“We’re closed now, but if you don’t have much to shop for, you’re welcome to look around while I tidy up in preparation for Tuesday’s maniacal clientele. 

He grunts, and I assume it’s affirmation that he’d like to look around, so I nod. “Are you looking for something in particular? Or shopping for a certain someone?” Wracking my brain, I attempt to recall if he’s currently dating anyone, but I’ve no idea. Since opening up my pop up last month, I’d not had time to do much more than work daily until exhaustion forces me to crawl into bed with a heating pad on my back and warm peppermint compresses on my feet. 

“Just looking…” He smiles, and I’m nearly blinded by the left dimple. 

Holy shit. No wonder he’s so popular. 

I have the silly idea that I should sniff him. It would be easy to make a tonne of money from bottling his scent and selling it. Then I would have enough money to set up a permanent shop to sell my organic candles, soaps, and lotions. 

Resisting only because I have managed to maintain some self-respect after being yelled at and cursed at by customers all day long, I decide to provide him some privacy. 

“Absolutely. Let me know if you have any questions.” 

He nods once, and I swear my insides melt into a puddle like Frosty the Snowman when the sun has come out. 

Stepping to the counter, I fiddle with the sound system, turning off the grating holiday tunes that permeate the atmosphere this time of year and sliding instead into some soothing jazz from Alfa Mist. As soon as the first song starts playing, Harry’s head whips around and he stares in my direction. 

“Excellent choice.” His voice is gravelly and kind with a bit of surprise in it. 

“It’s the kind of music I prefer,” I shrug, not knowing what else to say. 

“Me too.” 

It’s such a surprising thing for him to say that I do my own double take, but he’s returned already to smelling the candles on the wall display. 

Shrugging, I move to the first shelves to the right of the register, straightening products, and making mental notes of what I need to restock. When I move to the next set of shelves, though, it’s clear that a mental note isn’t going to be of any help. There are simply too many hand lotions, soaps, and other products that need to be replaced. Sighing, I move behind the counter again, withdrawing a pad of paper. Quickly, I jot down what I need to replace on the first two shelves. 

Turning my head, I see that Harry has barely finished sniffing one shelf of candles. “Um…” He glances up at my utterance. “...would you mind if I stepped into the back to grab some more stock?” 

“Whatever you need to do.” His voice is so silky that I could easily wear it and nothing else against my skin forever. 

In the small stockroom, I remove my shoes, wiggling my toes that have been screaming at me for the last two hours. Grabbing a basket I keep for just this purpose, I fill it with the items on my list before stepping back onto the main floor. The coolness of the tiles under my toes is soothing, and I sigh at the pleasure of it on my hot skin. Quickly, I restock the first two shelves, giving my feet a workout as I have to rise onto my toes multiple times. My knees also get to practise squatting so I can place items on the bottom shelf. 

After I slide my protesting feet back into my shoes, I sneak a peek to check on Harry. He’s moved on to the next set of shelves, opening the sample shampoos and smelling them one by one. 

At this rate, he’ll be here another hour at least. 

Surveying the third set of shelves, I jot down the merchandise I need to pull from the back for this one. It’s the shelf of eye compresses I’ve made that include differing herbs to soothe the skin around the eyes and quiet the mind. With a quick glance at Harry, I return to the storeroom, trying to recall where I’d placed the box holding more eye compresses. 

Spying it on a higher shelf, hiding behind a box of the scented rice neck pillows I’d designed to be heated and worn next to the skin, I stand on my tiptoes in order to reach. Just — one — more — inch — CRASH! Both boxes clatter to the ground, the sides splitting open on the box holding the neck pillows, and I sigh. 

“Are you okay?” 

His voice startles me, and I jump like that time I’d been forced to watch a horror movie by my previous boyfriend. The arsehole. 

Placing my hand on my chest to calm my pounding heart, I smile at where his head has emerged through the curtain separating the sales floor and stockroom. 

“Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay. Just knocked off a couple of boxes.” 

“Shit. That looks annoying. Let me help.” He muscles his way past the curtain, assisting me by setting the box right side up. I locate the roll of packing tape I’d used earlier to package some items for a customer who wanted them delivered, handing the tape to Harry as he repairs the box. “I’m Harry.” His introduction is endearing, and I share my name too. 

“No one else working tonight?” His hushed tones do things to my body that are inappropriate for work. 

“No one else is working ever. It’s my shop, and I couldn’t afford to pay for help this year.” 

“Damn. How do you manage?” 

“Well, I take it slow on nights like this with the restocking and tidying because I know I’ll get the next two days to soak my feet and relax.”

“But how do you do it during the day with all the customers?” 

“I think that’s clear from the state of the front. I muddle through.” My shrug is intended to communicate that there’s no real answer to that question. 

“Can I help?” 

“YOU?” I yelp, clamping both hands over my mouth at my shriek. 

“Why not me?” 

“Um, cause you’re Harry Styles.” 

When he smiles this time, his eye crinkles come into focus, and I’m lost in him. I could stare at those crows’ feet all night, I think. 

“And that means I can’t help?” 

“It means that you probably have plenty of plans that don’t include stocking shelves.” 

“Hmmm… tonight, I actually do not have plans. My sister and I were supposed to shop for our mum, and then my sister ended up ill, so…” Trailing off, he raises both hands to the side in imitation of a shrug. “You can pay me by helping me choose gifts for my mum and my sister. And my manager’s wife. And maybe the wives of my friends.” 

“That’s silly. I’d help you with that for free.” 

“Ah, well then, you can take me out to dinner after we’re done.” 

My jaw drops. Dinner with Harry Styles? 

Is he asking me out on a date? 

“Just as repayment, right?” I ask. 

“For starters,” he smirks, and my panties become uncomfortable as I rub my legs together. “I’ll take these boxes out front.” Bending his knees, he picks up the box of neck pillows with the box of eye compresses on top. Striding through the curtain, he drops the boxes on the floor and immediately starts artfully arranging the merchandise. Occasionally, he brings a pillow to his nose and breathes in deeply. 

Mesmerised, I watch from the door to the store room. After a few minutes, he removes his coat, carefully draping it over the counter, smiling at me as I straighten the bottles of lotion on the table, ensuring that the rosemary mint doesn’t get mixed up with the rosemary thyme. It’s easy to get them confused as the labels are similar. 

“How long did it take you to prepare all of this?” Harry asks, his hand encompassing the entire shop. 

“All year. My dad –” I pause as emotion invades my throat, layering it with sorrow. Finally, I swallow, clearing the grief. “My dad was ill for the last couple of years, so I quit my job to move in and take care of him. I started growing the herbs in his garden. And then I needed something to do with all of the herbs I grew, so I started making soaps and selling them at the local farmer’s market. Demand was swift, and I’ve been expanding the line for the last eight months or so.” 

“That’s amazing!” His face has lit up like the Christmas tree that’s in the corner of the shop, and his grin takes over his entire countenance. “And how’s your dad doing now?” 

I wince. “He actually died in July.”

“Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

My watery smile hopefully conveys my gratitude. “He was ready to go. At least that’s what he told me. And I needed a project after his death to keep me busy while I cleaned out the house and prepared to sell it.” 

“Sell it? Why?” 

Moving to the next table, I straighten the bars of soap. Wiping a tear from my eye, I answer his question. “Too many memories. I’ve had a lot of loss in my life, and now I’m the only one left in my immediate family. So when I’m in the house, all I can see are the people no longer with me.” 

“That must be hard.” His hand rests on my shoulder, and I’m startled because I hadn’t realised he’d approached. 

“It’s life. Lucky for me, I have my dreams to keep me going.” 

“Dreams of expanding beyond a popup shop at the holidays?” 

“Something like that,” I nod. 

“Sounds lovely. Listen, I’m done with these shelves, and those over there look pretty good. I, um, straightened them earlier when I was testing the product. Is there a broom so I can sweep up?” 

Astonished, I blink at him. “No. No. No. I draw the line at having a number one pop musician sweep my floor.” 

He giggles, his laugh growing until he’s slapping his knee, his full body moving with glee as he heartily releases his mirth. “So if I were the number one classical musician or number one jazz musician or number one country musician, you’d be okay with me cleaning the floor?”

Seeing the humour in my comment, I laugh along with him. “Okay. Okay. You’ve found me out. Only pop musicians aren’t allowed to sweep up. Everyone else is fair game.” 

Bopping me on the nose, he grins. “Good thing I’m not a number one pop musician tonight. I’m just a customer who is quite taken with your goods.” 

And the way he rakes his eyes over my body lets me know that he’s not talking about the merchandise on the shelves. 

Dammit. Why don’t I keep a pair of spare knickers in my bag in case I run into the handsomest man alive? Because the ones I’m wearing right now are ruined. 

Sticking his head through the curtain and peering into the back, he joyfully exclaims, “There it is!” Seconds later, he’s pushing the broom around the shop floor, and I am both pleased and appalled. 

Reluctant to let him do all the work, I watch him and squirm. Using the broom as a partner, he dances to the music, and I can’t help the giggle that escapes. 

“I remember when you couldn’t dance at all,” I reveal, then clamp my hands over my mouth at my rudeness. 

“Some would say I still can’t.” 

“Screw ‘em.” I grin. “Listen, I’m about to count up the money for a night deposit. Are you planning to pay with cash or credit?” 

Wincing, he bites his lip, resting his arm on top of the broom handle. “Oh yeah. I was having so much fun that I forgot I was here to shop.” He looks around at the merchandise. “You’re taking me out for dinner, right?” One eyebrow raises while the other stays in place. It’s a talent not many have. 

“I believe that was the deal in exchange for your labour.”

“Then let’s eat first. I can tell you about those I need to shop for, and you can decide what would be most fitting for each.” 

“Hmmm…” I tease, “Are you trying to get out of buying products from me?” 

“Nope,” he grins, stepping closer to me. “Trying to let you get to know me more.” 

“Who's to say I don’t already know everything about you?” 

“Ah, I see.” The expression on Harry’s face is smug. “You wanna have a quiz? Find out what exactly you know and don’t know?” 

“Sure,” I smile, “but somehow I’m not sure I trust you. You could easily say all of my answers are wrong, and I wouldn’t be able to contradict you.” 

“Let’s start. What colour are my eyes?” 

“Are you taking the piss? They’re green. That one’s easy ‘cause I can see them.” 

“Okay, okay. You got one right. What colour are my lips?” 

Which of course drags my eyes right to the body part in question. And they look lush. Soft. Slightly chapped, but not enough to keep me from… 

Shit. I’ve gotten lost in staring at his lips. 

“I didn’t hear your answer.” 

My tongue dips out to lick my own lips, and he steps closer, his eyes locked on my tongue. Shaking my head, I dart my gaze back to his eyes, and I can feel his breath on my cheek. Leaning forward, he reaches his arm to my left, and I briefly wonder if he’s going to wrap his arm around my waist and haul me to him for a snogging session. 

Which is when he grabs his coat from the counter. 

“Let’s count the money so you can make your deposit. I’m getting hungry.” 

Really? I'm experiencing a powerful thirst.

Author's note: Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed it, please reblog. I know not everyone reblogs, but it really helps writers out.

READ PART 2 HERE

[candycorncremator]

Unfortunately lower visual quality than I wanted be because Tumblr only allows 10 images so I smushed them into three canvases instead of two post. Anyway beta trolls Headcanon and some thoughts below the cut.

Aradia

Aradia is the design I probably have the most experience drawing of the beta trolls purely because of how many zines I’ve drawn her in the last year. I like thinking of her hair similar to Pinkie Pies’ in g4 of mlp, where it’s very curly bouncy in her alive and godtiered forms but straightens out more when she’s ghosting up the place and in Aradia-bot form. I didn’t realize until a recent zine I had been drawing her horns ways too low for comic accuracy but I am a creature of habit so I keep drawing them like that.

Tavros

I’ve grown to love this kid because of my recent reread but I do not like drawing them. Between the Mohawk and the long, straight horns, I don’t care to draw their most important traits so he unfortunately only gets drawn in these group drawings. As for the one ear being pierced, it’s kinda a reference to cow tags but also I think it just fits them.

Sollux

Sollux a pretty easy character to design. I just have to imagine a greasy nerd kid growing up too fast for him to put on weight, add his troll bits and voila. The snake bites are definitely a hold over from the humanstuck I made for him last year but I think it just kinda add to his whole vibe. The undershirt comes from someone who also sits in a hot-ass room most of my days and will wears a second layer so leaving the room won’t feel like stepping out into a frozen wasteland.

Karkat

Karkat for me has always been short and stout guy. Other than that most of his facial features are taken from me, being someone who also over exaggerates their faces and nearly always is squinting a little.

Nepeta

Between all my designs of Nepeta the only thing that ever changes with any consistency is her hair. Like giving her cleft lip scar because I gave it to my fan-descendent of her and it’s cute.

Kanaya

Like two months ago I saw a post on here saying give that girl a nose (in reference to Kanaya) and it was the single most true HC I have ever seen. I also like completely throw out any references I have of her when I draw her hair because I think she should have 1930’s waves and curls. I typically only have to draw the super simple eyes so the only thing I had to change was giving her actual eyes.

Terezi

Got pretty comic accurate but probably would erase some of the chin to imply she’s fat a little better if I wasn’t doing this more rigid style.

Vriska

Also pretty comic accurate with the exception of the snake bites which is probably because I don’t draw her a lot and I don’t think about her much enough looks wise to have any specific head canons.

Equius

Goodness his hair gave me a struggle, kept on looking like a balding metal head until I added the pushed back stuff. Also returned back to drawing pseudo animal ears by giving him horse ears only angle to better fit a humanoid head.

Gamzee

I hate their make-up but every thing else about drawing them is a dream; goat ears, not straight hair, simple horns, silly little guy. What more could I ask for.

Eridan

And I’m almost done but unfortunately this doofus is next and requires the most detailed bust even in canon. Due to drawing them in this year’s 413 countdown I know how I like styling their hair and fins so I basically just chop the hair up since this is suppose to be during comic hcs and then follow their canon and Pesterquest designs with a few added features and boom. I was drawing everyone with the dark grey lips but I forgot for Eridan so I’ll just say they use concealer on their lips.

Feferi

Yippee! Back to ignoring canon and just giving her the biggest eyes on account of her glasses and cute piercings. I originally based her fins off of lion fish fins but they’re definitely more based off of betta ventral fin now.

[frankenfossil]

Oh! I nearly forgot, but can I ask the significance of this panel?

It comes directly after Dee explains that he can’t come and see her from the future whenever he wants. (Which is one of my favorite moments where Dee’s true eldritch horror leaks in to the story), so I assume it’s… sort of a metaphor? How Emily finds herself at the foot of something she realizes is much, much bigger than she contemplated before?

(Also, I just wanted to compliment you for this panel)

(The first time I saw it, I imagined Dee was showing her this on purpose, time traveling from sometime the same day to really show her what it would be like. An object lesson.

The second time I saw it, I started to wonder

Because Dee himself doesn’t really look aware of what is going on behind him.

And maybe, just maybe, this one moment in time has become the only moment that Dee allows himself to come back to to see Emily, the one moment where he can get lost in the crowd with every other time he came back to look. The one moment where he’s explaining why he can’t come back.

Just… Makes me sad, and I wanted to say thank you for that too, because I love these characters and the story they tell, the sweet and bitter.)

Oh!!!

(Quick test of my ability to find which chapter stuff happens in)

I love your reading of that Uluru panel!! I think I probably didn’t intend anything that deep with it; these time skip montage style chapters are pretty choppy and I’m usually trying to figure out a way to touch on all these brief scenes or moments that I don’t want to spend a whole chapter on for whatever reason, and arrange them in a way where the cuts aren’t too hideously abrupt. For visual reasons I try to contrast different locations and not put 2 dialogue heavy moments directly next to each other. Mood wise, I don’t really want to cut from something serious and angsty to something that’s a complete backflip on that. I also sometimes just feel like drawing a nice landscape and hope it achieves my aims on these fronts haha.

I think also here I was trying to move from that final sentence, “The present is more than enough”, to demonstrating them appreciating having that present together - being able to go do cool and enriching stuff, something not completely mundane but not completely fantastical either. (I mean... sightseeing within your own country is extremely normal, but going to Uluru from Melbourne... not a convenient day trip, since it’s 2000km; 25 hour solid driving, or you can fly in a few hours but I think you have to go via Sydney, so that makes it take at least twice as long I guess. Not that it's specified how long they're there for. I haven’t been myself but I’d love to one day...)

So, yeah!! More of a mechanical/compositional rationale than an intentional metaphor, but I think your reading makes complete sense and actually improves the page! (Sometimes I do intend visual metaphors... but sometimes they’re just happy accidents.)

And thanks for the compliment re the crowd of Dees!! I also love the moments I can lean into his eldritch qualities... they’re sadly few and far between but maybe that helps them be more surprising?? Definitely your first reading was what I intended, that he zigzagged back pretty quickly, probably even from within the conversation, but there is an inherent ambiguity to Dee’s time travelling where unless I take pains to spell it out, there really is no way to know when he’s come from. Even if he can be assumed to be taking every interaction chronologically, there’s no knowing how much time has passed for him between each visit. I don’t even know how to estimate how long his experience of time is, when he’s zigzagging back so densely all the time; even the number of living things on Earth any moment is an incomprehensibly mind-boggling number. That eldritch horror again!

Truth be told I hadn’t thought of him coming back to this moment and blending in with the crowd for the rest of the future ;_; but that’s so real... he could well be, the sad sack...

I had a different sillier thought from slightly misreading your question on first pass, which is that maybe he doesn’t originally know what’s going on behind him, but then later on as he’s just going about his business he goes “oh I know exactly how to punctuate that thing I said earlier!!!” and then does it as an afterthought. Oh to have the ability to add the things you wish you’d said to an earlier conversation 😂

[9w1ft]

lord you made me feel importunt..

so basically… i feel like taylor is singing from karlie’s perspective in WCS. and i think she is addressing two people— taylor and josh.

i imagine this song as the culmination of a lot of arguments and negotiations between the three of them over the years about how to proceed with things. i think it’s not too wild to imagine that karlie has been caught in the middle of the two of them a lot, in terms of emotional labor. i don’t have a specific time pinpointed for this song but maybe it is the “night i nearly lost you” that taylor talks about in the great war. it was karlie finally reaching her boiling point, and airing her grievances at both of them.

judging by interviews and karlie’s overall persona and demeanor, i think that karlie is the type of person who puts others before herself, and doesn’t easily let things get to her. so i imagine that when she does get angry enough to raise her voice, that it’s very jarring and would stick with you.

here is a selection of lines that i draw parallels with, which, in aggregate, make me think wcs fits more in the kaylor narrative than anything about jm:

years of tearing down our banners // tore our banners down took the battle underground

living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts // i knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired

if i never blushed, then they could've never whispered about this // they whisper in the hallway, "she's a bad, bad girl"

if you never touched me, i would've gone along with the righteous // touch me and you’ll never be alone

and if i was some paint, did it splatter on a promising grown man? // you paint dreamscapes on the wall

i keep on waiting for a sign // you never gave a warning sign (i gave so many signs)

stained glass windows in my mind, i regret you all the time // you say what a mind, this happens all the time

i miss who i used to be // remind her how it used to be

the tomb won’t close // spineless in my tomb of silence

memories feel like weapons // we can plant a memory garden

some other small points are..

i think she sings with a certain tone to her voice that reminds me of karlie. her emphasis on the word “important” reminds me of how karlie famously pronounces that word funnily, and there are a few expressions that remind me of how people in the midwest/southern united states speak “damn sure never would’ve” “but lord you made me feel” “god’s honest truth” “god rest my soul” etc

plus, karlie was introduced to josh at 19 years old so. there’s that parallel too.

so given these things i think the first verses might be addressed to josh and the second verse to taylor and maybe the third is to both of them. “if clarity’s in death than why won’t this die? years of tearing down our banners you and i” at her and “living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts give me back my girlhood it was mine first” at him

and a sidenote: following a similar framework i actually think it’s possible that illicit affairs is also from karlie’s perspective directed at the two of them.. “don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby”

i also think it’s sort of important that both of them are older than karlie, in terms of the dynamics. i feel like maybe it had made karlie feel like a toy or pawn or not listened to… or that the way they talked about what karlie should do—their style of communication when risk assessing—might have felt too clinical at times. the muse as object. and over time, perhaps she looked back and wondered, was this right? should i have gone along with everything like i did? or was it just what i grew up knowing?

listening to the song this way makes me incredibly emotional.. getting so close to being together publicly indefinitely, all the praise and centering of karlie as the hero and centerfold of taylor’s life during 1989 era, only for the backtracking and erasing. one might also say we were starting to get flickers of this with early lover era. years of tearing down banners.

so yeah… and, we count renegade as written from her lover’s perspective because of the tn tweet,

so i think it’s not that far out to assume she wrote other songs with karlie’s perspective too

just this idea of taylor taking the time to explore her muse’s perspective.

so yeah, this is my thought.

[world0fmadness]

THE RIVER RUNS RED

conrad “ cronos ” lant x reader

♡ general period comfort headcanons for cronos!

୨୧ this is kind of shorter than most of my other stuff but i’m basically writing this for myself right now, i’m in need of some comfort so i figured i’d write for my favourite fellow british person <3

♡ view my metal masterlist here

reading music recommendations: welcome to hell by venom - hollywood main theme by rik schaffer

♡ to be honest, i can see him making a lot of kind of childish jokes when it comes to your period…

୨୧ at first you don’t mind too much but you definitely get bored of them after two days

♡ and once he sees how bad periods really are for you, he quits the shit pretty quickly and wisens up

୨୧ he’s probably not great at comforting you but he definitely tries his best for you

♡ he tells you that actually you’re pretty fucking awesome for being able to like, shed your insides and how he thinks it’s insanely cool you bleed so heavily for seven days and don’t drop dead

୨୧ yeah, definitely not the best at offering comfort but he really tries…

♡ he’s much better at physical comfort than he is verbal comfort!

୨୧ oh you wanna cuddle up in bed because you have cramps? absolutely, let him big spoon you and trace pentagrams on the skin of your stomach <3

♡ he’ll really stay in bed with you all day if you want to! he’ll cancel any plans he might have, telling friends that something just came up

୨୧ if you want a hot drink or hot water bottle made, he’ll place a kiss on your head before climbing out of bed and going to make it for you

“ y’want a hot chocolate, honey? or maybe some tea? ‘kay, i’ll go make you one, be back in a bit ” ( i just know he makes a killer tea, and hot chocolate! he probably puts whipped cream and marshmallows on top of the hot chocolate, really spoiling his lady )

♡ i can see him having a MAJOR sweet tooth so if you ever crave sweets or chocolate, he’s on it in a flash and buying you way more candy than you really need

୨୧ he ends up eating almost all of them himself, shovelling huge handfuls of small sweets into his mouth as you giggle next to him, he’ll shoot you a wink and smirk as he attempts to chew them all

♡ cronos is absolutely the type of guy to ask what size pussy you have when you ask him to go and buy you some pads…

୨୧ he’s also extremely confused when you tell him to get the ones with wings! but he doesn’t mention that, he just nods his head with squinted eyes, silently trying to decide if you’re fucking with him or not

♡ he comes back from the store with WAY too many packets of pads, all different types too…

୨୧ like, he bought enough to last you nearly a year, claiming he just didn’t really know how many you’d need

♡ if you ever bleed through your pants in public, he’s very gentle with you and doesn’t make a huge fuss, he absolutely does not want to draw attention to you

୨୧ he’d just come up behind you and tie his leather jacket around your waist, softly whispering in your ear why he’s doing it

“ you’ve got some blood on your pants, honey… ‘s okay, it’s covered, wasn’t too much ” ( for once, you’re thankful he was ogling your ass and noticed the crimson stain )

♡ and if you get pretty bad leg cramps when out and about, he’ll gladly give you a piggy back home!

୨୧ he probably tries to carry you bridal style first but realises very quickly he isn’t as strong as he thinks and it just isn’t super comfy for you

♡ he keeps a pack of painkillers on him at all times for you, everywhere you guys go together he’ll have a pack of them in the pockets of his leather jacket

୨୧ they’ve come in handy many times and he’s always so smug about it, telling you he’s just so smart and so thoughtful before you shove his shoulder and laugh

♡ another thing cronos is actually really good at doing for you when you’re on your period is running you baths!

୨୧ if you mention to him that you feel gross and sticky and really just want to bathe, he’ll tell you to sit back and relax whilst he goes to prepare a bath for you

♡ he goes all fucking out, lighting cute little tea lights around the bathroom, pouring in ( way too much ) bubble bath, laying out the nicest and softest towels on the radiator so that they’re warm for you when you get out…

୨୧ he definitely sits by your side when you’re in the bath too, unless you don’t want him to! he’ll just sit on the closed toilet lid and smoke a cigarette or read a magazine whilst chatting with you, coming over to wash your hair for you

♡ i can see cronos having no problem with letting you wear his boxers around the apartment! sometimes everything else is just too uncomfortable but you don’t want to walk around the apartment in just panties so he’ll offer up his boxer briefs

୨୧ they’re pretty big and comfortably oversized on you, perfect for period clothes <3

♡ if you get a little horny on your period, he’ll be all over that… he has no problem getting a little messy but i won’t go into that right now hehe…

[arthuluart]

Hiii - wanted to say first thing first I love your art style, it's so dynamic and fun and those color palettes? Stunning ^^

And second thing second, just some food for thought if you ever want to get angsty about Jerry and Dean, coffee by Chappell Roan sounds like it was written about their break up specifically and I can't stop thinking abt it dndnden

*Cue me losing my mind*

Hiii- they say flattery gets you everywhere and turns out with me, it gets you animatics- jkjk but I do appreciate the kind comments ^^

I’ll put up the animatic separately and take the opportunity to leave the preamble here to keep the video post neat bc until someone tells me to shut up and just post art- I’m gonna ramble… So here’s the commentary you didn’t ask for along with my favourite panels:

First off- You turned me into a big time Chappell Roan listener which is great bc I need music recs to fix my listening habits before Spotify wrapped drops. My roundup last year was shameful… Red Wine Supernova is my new dish washing song.

Even tho it’s not the song’s vibe I kept the content as silly as I could for my own sanity. I don’t love getting too deep into the serious/sad side of M+L for a few reasons but I do find it all very interesting. Point being this song was too good to pass up doing something a bit bigger for.

Ngl tho- this did have me pulling out hair at multiple points. I never colour animatics, rarely even tone them- but you mentioned colour palettes and I was determined to deliver so pardon the messy colouring but (that was the tradeoff) I did not have it in me to stay in the lines. I’m choosing to be kind to myself and opt to call it an artistic choice and not midway burnout. And nothing was gonna get me to open after effects/premiere not even the janky ass golf ball OML this only makes sense if u watch the video.

There are parts of this I’m SO happy with and others I hate. I think it’s really obvious which sections I started losing steam on but overall I lowkey like the end product. Nothing I make will ever be good/perfect- this was one hell of a practice in accepting that lmao- but I can still be ok with the work problems and all yknow? I very nearly shelved this completely bc I got so worked up about the maybe 5 panels I dislike out of 106 total. Counting them was eye opening to ask myself: you’re gonna let that small a ratio stop you from sharing this after putting in days and days of effort? The insecurity goes deep and TBH getting asks has been a nice way of working through it since I post the art I make for answers no matter what only bc I KNOW someone out there wants to see it. It might not sound it but it’s actually quite positive.

Also, although I feel I’ve done my fair share of reading, I’m no expert. So if anything is really off point- sorry my bad (I won’t fix it tho bc I cannot physically stand to look at this another second lol)

I tried to stick to real things found in articles/books/photos/interviews etc bc outside of obviously fictional AUs I’m not super into making stuff up about them (and who needs to I mean the legit stuff is already insane enough) Sure I framed the events in specific ways to suit the song and some aspects are fictionalized (mainly bc the referenced written accounts lacked detail to draw 100% faithfully from anyhow) but otherwise I got my sources cited.

ANYWAYS… sorry for hijacking this answer I need to learn to chill out. Irl I’m a pretty reserved talker so you can tell I’m in a comfy place when I let loose and blather on endlessly lmao brevity is not a skill I possess.

You were probably expecting illustrations or smth but I hope what I came up with is still somewhat alright AND please don’t let my complaining fool you, I genuinely loved making this.

One FINAL Relevant Note: the line “nowhere else is safe every place leads back to your place” is gut wrenching. You’re so right about this song perfectly describing the break up. They always came back to each other and there’s something so devastating about that kind of haunting human connection.

OkAY I’m done promise- I thought I’d implode if I didn’t get all that out

[subject-v]

First Time

tw: cutting, blood, restraint, manipulation, mind control, cult

2300 words

“Stop, please! Please don’t hurt me!”

“Ah shoot, sorry.” The boy drops his scalpel like it’s gone red hot. It clinks awkwardly onto the linoleum floor next to my leg, catching the light from a nearby rune.

Confused, I blink up at him. I don’t have many other options, in terms of body language, at this point, with my hands chained above me, close enough I can brush my pinkies against one another, and my legs splayed on either side of the new kid, the pants damp with the humidity and my own blood. Nice cell, as far as they go, but the tile floor’s a real germ trap and even after a quick wash the night before, most of my blood is still congealed on my body.

“I-I’m sorry.” He picks up the scalpel with trembling fingers. “I didn’t mean to drop that. Let me try this again.”

He places the tip of the blade against my skin, then holds it there without enough pressure to draw blood while he consults a piece of paper, creased all over from a million folds and written in cramped handwriting. Did he… did he write down what he plans to do to me? What kind of serial sadist is this? “I’m just going to give you a few cuts,” he murmurs, at last leaning onto the blade and carving a line down my arm.

I don’t mind the hot flash of pain—much—but he was so funny the first time so I make my eyes roll back in my head and crack my voice. “P-please!” The sound echoes in the lofty space. 

“I could concentrate better if you didn’t speak.” Another line joins the first. He’s close enough I can lean forward and see the piece of paper that’s so enthralled him, including the shape he’s drawn there: a name, I think, maybe two. That’s hardly unusual. I’ve have names carved into me in writing systems that don’t even exist anymore.

I change tact. “What are you going to do to me?” 

Serial killers, they like that question. Puts you completely in their power, strokes their egos, the whole nine yards. The boy, though, and I can’t imagine he’s over twenty years old, not with hair that floppy and poorly styled, doesn’t react with pleasure or even annoyance that I’ve spoken. Instead, doubt flickers across his face, and then he blushes, a little red to his cheeks that I would’ve missed if the dungeon lights were but a shade dimmer. “I’m going to hurt you a little bit,” he says, tongue between his teeth as he finishes carving his shape into my arm. He’s not practiced at this and the wounds are all different levels of deep.

“Why? I never hurt you.”

“Because I want to.” 

He looks like he’d rather be locked in a room somewhere putting together a two thousand piece jigsaw puzzle but hey, sometimes you’re chained to the dungeon wall, sometimes you’re doing the chaining, it’s all about rolling with the punches. 

He stands, tugging at the chains above me so I’m forced to my feet, leaning heavily when one foot goes completely to sleep. You’d think that would be less painful than the still-bleeding wound on my inner arm, but you’d be wrong. Knives have a beauty to them, a finesse that simple circulation lacks. “Okay.” He says it like he’s psyching himself up. “I’m going to… I’m going to hit you, I think.”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” It just slips out. Look, the first couple sadists leave an impression and after that, I stop grading on a curve. He wants me intimidated, he should be more intimidating.

It irks him, though. He tugs down the bottom of his shirt and straightens. “Yes. I’ll… I’ll beat the backtalk right out of you.” Given it takes him thirty seconds to figure out how to put the brass knuckles on, I don’t exactly have high hopes. Plus, his posture’s all off. After he punches me once and nearly throws himself into the wall, he switches to a cane and sort of whacks at my ankles.

In a better mood, I might try to dodge, but he’s so weak, he’s not going to break anything. “I’m your first, aren’t I?”

“Shut up.” He gets the cane caught between my legs—I swear I wasn’t even trying to get in the way—and drops it. 

“Here I thought I’d be the one kneeling at your feet.” He glares daggers up at me, costing him precious time padding about for his cane. “While you’re down there, you could give the ol’ boots a good lick, eh?” I’m barefoot and wiggle my toes a bit to prove it, but he shoots up like someone fired him out of a canon.

“I will never bow to you.”

I pout. “Whatever you say, big dog.”

The anger makes his beating, if anything, more sporadic. I think the wall’s in more pain than me when, panting, he takes a step back to surveil me. “That felt better, I think. They’re right, it can feel good.”

“Who’s right?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“If you tell me, I will show you how to use a cane to properly cause someone pain.”

“Like you’d know,” he sneers, mopping sweat off his brow. The cane’s about to fall from his hands unless he takes a rest, I figure, and he concurs, slumping to the floor well out of reach and going for a water bottle. Proper hydration: very important for the enterprising serial sadist. 

Though now that I’m here, I’m beginning to doubt the serial part of that title. So much for ridding the city of its serial killer on the first try, huh? If Archer beats me to a win by going the legal route, I’m going to throw myself into the ocean. 

After a bit of R&R, he’s ready for another go, but it’s cautious interest I see in his eyes. “Well?” he demands, tapping a foot. The arms crossed could be a good look, but he should’ve put the cane down first. “Tell me, then.”

“First tell me who they is.”

His eyes narrow but he’s never taken a negotiation course—such courses generally indicate that the party who is chained to the wall has less bargaining power—because he folds right away. “The other Mu-9s.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“You said you’d teach me.”

“All right, then. You see that table?” I have to nod towards it, my hands being where they are. “It’s for strapping people to.”

“It’s too short.”

“Au contraire. It’s not for waterboarding, it’s for foot torture. Move it over here. Yep, until it’s touching the wall, good. Okay, let’s see if I still have the abs for this.” I clench my fingers around the manacles and haul myself up and sideways, half over the table. He sees what I’m trying to do and helps me the rest of the way, still holding the cane even after it bops him in the forehead. “Now you’d traditionally strap my ankles to the corners.” What a relief, not to have to stand anymore. When I get a choice, I’ll sit through a torture anytime, even if the table feels kind of rickety. As an added bonus, I’ve earned a little slack in the arm chains, so I could feasibly start unlocking them, were I inclined. “The feet have as many nerves as the hands do and unlike other parts of the body, they don’t acclimate to repeated beatings, so the hundredth lash hurts as much as the first. You want to strike closer to the arch than the heels or toes, and at an angle. Yes, hold the cane like that. And then twist all the way around and think about activating your stomach muscles as you-ah! Yeah, like that.”

At my cry, his grip loosens and he almost drops the cane again. This kid, I swear. 

“You need to be careful with foot torture. I can walk on anything that isn’t broken but regular folks, any more than fifty or so and they won’t be able to walk on them. You also always want to-ah, yes. Thank you for that. You want to make sure-ow, see, that was my toe. Do you want to break bones or do you want to cane me? Make up your mind, kid.”

His shoulders are heaving. For a second, I think he’s going to stab me with the blunt end of his cane but he takes a step back and composes himself. “I should know this,” he whispers. “I should understand this.”

I take a stab in the dark. “Is that what they told you?” 

“They said evil people like me, we would like it. They told me… this was what I was made for.”

“You know what that sounds like?”

“No.” He looks up, all curious-like. Maybe twenty was an overly optimistic estimate for age.

“Sounds like someone is trying to mind control you.”

“What?”

“Just in general, if someone is telling you you’re evil, that’s a sign they’re manipulating you.”

“I am evil. I’m a Mu-9.”

“Ri-ight.”

“I-I’m hurting you! I cut my name into your arm!”

I glance at the wound. “Is that what it says? Niklo? Is that your name?”

“It doesn’t matter. Your opinion doesn’t matter.”

“I showed you the foot caning, didn’t I? Tell me about these people.” Since we’re settling down, now, I use the slack in my chains to unscrew the pin holding the manacles around my left wrist in place. Careful practice means I snag it before it can fall open. “They’re not Mu-9s, right?”

He whacks me again, on the knee, which is not how I showed him and doesn’t particularly hurt. 

I make a few educated guesses, based on the size of the dungeon and how often he references a group of people. “You’re not the only or first one they’ve sent here to torture someone, right?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Mu-9s are, what? Some sort of torture school? And they’re letting you practice on the sorts of people no one will miss?” Torture schools are all the same—the grey sisters used to snag orphans and widows to practice on, if the dungeons ever got too empty. 

“We’re evil.”

“Says who?”

His chin is wobbling as he collapses against the wall, fingers loose enough that the cane rolls away and clatters across the floor. “It’s a gene, right? The Mu-9 gene? It makes people sadists, psychopaths.”

We’re about to have a chat, so I stop holding the manacles shut and place my hands in my lap. “Do you know what a gene is?”

“It’s in your DNA.” If he’s noticed I’m no longer tied up quite so well, he doesn’t let on.

“A gene tells your proteins how to-tell you what. You ever folded paper to make an animal?”

Everyone in this city has; the cranes decorate every other street corner.

“A gene is like the instructions to make a paper animal. A single gene can’t make you a psychopath, nor can they create a world with embedded moral laws and a black and white system of ethics.”

“What?”

“‘Evil,’” I scoff. “What’s that mean? Who decides?”

“I guess I don’t know.”

“Exactly. Tell me more about these folks who are mind controlling you.”

“They tested us at school.” His gaze goes up and over my left shoulder. “They took all the Mu-9s away, said since we were evil anyway, we might as well put it to good use. I didn’t kidnap you. I didn’t even want a, you know.”

“I do not.”

“A woman,” he mouths. “I wouldn’t normally hurt a girl.”

I snort. How kind.

“They told me where to find you, gave me this.” He gestures at his bag of pain-inducing equipment. “Said I’d know what to do.”

“So you found a woman tied up in a dungeon and decided to carve your name into her arm?”

“They had us plan it first. The therapists, they ask us again and again. What would you do, if someone was in your power? And whenever I said I’d never hurt them, she says of course I would, I’m evil, what would I do? She wouldn’t stop asking so I made it up, I said I-I’d carve my name into their arm and then I’d beat them and she asked me again and again everyday until I had it memorized, and then she made me write it down…” Futily, he waves the paper in my direction. “Maybe I’ve done this before. I don’t even know.”

“I’m going to hazard a guess that this is, in fact, your first time.”

He starts to cry. You know what’s worse than a proper good caning? When people cry in front of you, and this culture says women are supposed to be all motherly and caring too, so I know he expects me to help him out. 

Sighing, I say, “You’re most likely not evil. You are being mind controlled, though, so I’d recommend doing something about that.”

“I can’t leave. I can’t. They said… they said if I left, the regs would kill me. They can see what I am.”

Fuck me, it’s a cult situation, isn’t it? A torture murder death cult. Just my luck. “Uh huh.” 

“This is the only thing I’m good at,” he whispers, standing again and going for the cane. “If I can’t show them I’m good at this, they’ll make me leave and the regs will burn me alive. I need to be good at this.”

“If—”

“And you,” he snarls, “need to shut up.”

I mime zipping my lips. He realizes, for the first time, that my hands are free. I’d like to say the beating I got in punishment was nice, but it was average at best, and I could’ve done without the angry tirade. He leaves me an hour later, bruised and bleeding, still sitting on that wobbly table, but I see a logo on the wall outside before he shuts the door: SomatiCorp.

Cult victim convinced he needs to become a sadist to survive, windowless dungeon with gross tile floor, and a company name in camel case. 

I can work with that.

[monsterfloofs]

Hello ghost oc artist asker, most of my comic work for him are just sketches but I added some portraits of him here.

This is my first drawing of him nearly two years ago. He’s a ghost hotelier. His names Dante though to lay low has taken many different names over the decades.

The comic is suppose to be a fun slice of life with the twist that he’s a ghost running a hotel for at least a hundred years. Though most of his guests don’t know this fact but some of his staff members picked-up on this but seeing as he’s a really nice fellow and a really kind boss they cover for him. Mostly I picture it’ll follow funny situations and shenanigans as well as warm hearted chapters.

(In the picture you can see he mostly just changes his glasses and a bit the outfit as the joke. And as a cover he claims he’s the son, grandson, etc of the previous owner/hotelier)

And this is how far I am on his character sheet with my current style. With the rough sketch as the base reference.

I have more sketches and a little animation under the Dante tag on my art page (fantasy-drawings-r.a).

Sorry I just get so excited talking about him. I hope these look okay and hope I explained it well enough.

I hope you like them!

This is a wonderful idea for a comic and it sounds really adorable! I love that Dante is so attatched to managing his hotel that he continues to do so after death! Super wholesome premise and it does sound like there is a lot of potential for shennanigans to be afoot to make sure his cover isn’t blown! >=3c Love the design too, the colors you picked are really warm and inviting! Just how you have drawn his collected expressions here, you can definately tell that Dante is a peaceful serene looking guy! Lovely, lovely, lovely! Thanks for sharing, this was a treat to read! I wish you good luck with your comic, and here! I waited on this responce for a while so that I could give you a small messy drawing of your ghostie! = D He is adorable!

[thewingedwolf]

wait i’m gonna be so annoying and have a final thoughts here

the aesthetic & main romance has just really fallen off. they are incapable of sticking the landing in the third act & while they still have some good looks, i think there’s a certain level of playing it too safe (see Kate’s wardrobe!!!!!) and also just, bizarre makeup choices that were a bit distracting.

they also just don’t know how to keep a character waiting for their romance while building that character up over several arcs. kind of a bad trait to have for a tv show?? 😭😭 like, i love them with all my heart, but everyone has said that eloise, benedict, & colin have felt so confused at points as characters, like the writers didn’t know where to go with them. they’re just waiting for their romance instead of like, growing.

Colin was the male lead what do we even know about him beyond his inability to interact with a woman without projecting onto her.

once again the milfs outsold, agatha and violet are the best thing about this series and i don’t care how much i like violet’s lil thing with agatha’s brother, i want those two gossipy old milfs to kiss sloppy style.

it’s too goddamn short, i think this wasn’t a problem in s1 or qc bc it’s the First season so there’s not as many characters to follow but they keep introducing all these other characters that take space away from a) The Main Couple and b) The Bridgertons As A Family, and those are the draws of the series!! it’s too much for only 8 episodes, what happened to 12-18 episodes for high budget or cable shows, if they had these people on like Normal tv contracts they wouldn’t have such a hard time scheduling and have these long ass waits between seasons Either, im tired of this and i blame the duffer brothers and i want those two nerds hunted for sport.

also hyacinth and gregory are getting SO OLD OMG HURRY UP 😭😭😭

i think they did a better job this season with folding the siblings in together but it feels disjointed from s2. anthony & kate specifically feel very oddly thrown in there and idgi. i loved seeing the bridgertons using calling times as an excuse for Group Hangs, and i loved the way John pointed this out to Francesca. i liked that the ending with benedict where he’s realizing he’s the oldest still left at home with two like, toddler siblings and feeling unhappy with it, but bc they struggle with incorporating all the siblings together, we really lose that thread from last season between him & anthony that could have given benedict a way to explore his sexuality in a slutty way while also giving anthony something to do & not drop the art school thing. however, this is all detailed and would take a lot of time and they only have eight episodes. why. do 13-18 or im gonna start sending death threats to ceos. for legal reasons that’s a joke haha.

i do think in the few kathony scenes we got, they nailed the dynamic that she is the world’s most put upon eldest daughterson and he needs to be institutionalized. pls put jonathan bailey and simone ashley in another thing together so i can see them together again. this can’t be the end. be the next tom hanks and meg ryan please. he george clooney and julia roberts. i’m on my knees here.

am i allowed to say i’m glad we got a long devirginizing scene like in s1 & qc but also we did not see Nearly enough of those two fucking. more than kathony but imo still not on the level of the other two. also you could write an essay here about the sex politics of this show. i will refrain and say Is This Not The Pervert’s Show?? Can we Please get better pandering????

i think no one can handle a big cast like shonda not even her hand picked teams. qc handled having a host of characters so much better. early grey’s is really great at this. htgawm is good at this. u can tell what season she was really In That Writer’s Room. shonda pls get back in the writer’s room i need something as emotionally devastating as “meredith i’m so sorry” “you must be the woman whose screwing my husband” i need sexy like the “teach me” scene but with the freedom of streaming to get freaky with it, this cast WANTS to deliver but netflix & these writers are NOT up to the challenge!!!

i love bi benedict. even if nothing else comes of this i didn’t think they’d genuinely have benedict get intimate with and acknowledge being attracted to a man. genuinely really jazzed about that. but they Have said they want to explore his ~fluidity more and there’s so many scenarios that could be, i have no idea what the hell they mean by that askksjd. crossdressing sophie, genderbent to solomon, a trans sophie/solomon of some persuasion, im excited to see where they go!

BI FRANCESCA. MICHAELA STIRLING. PEOPLE ARE HATING BUT YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION. esp bc you could do a michaela that has like, resigned herself to a life of never feeling love only to fall in love At Her Cousin’s Wedding so well with this. these three, michaela francesca john, are gonna break my HEART i’m READY for it!

i want the resolution to one of the gay couples to include brimsley & reynolds encouraging charlotte to cure society of homophobia somehow. if we can do this with racism we can do it with homophobia. why the hell not.

listen to me. listen closely. are you listening. if we don’t get lesbian eloise what are we even fucking doing here. enough fucking around. give me a real sign this is all going somewhere. i am no longer asking.