#I don't think this is part of my long fic? if it were then that fic would need to be MILES long to get to this point lol

[ckret2]

Pictured above: a shape's eye view of the end of the world.

The second dimension has burned; and Bill's been accidentally setting the second dimension's neighbors on fire. At the moment, the Axolotl is trying really, really hard to convince himself that these two facts are unrelated. Here, have a fic.

This is chapter 5 of an ongoing fic about the Axolotl in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre as Bill just keeps on committing atrocities. If you wanna read the earlier chapters (and/or look at more pretty art of Bill committing horrors and the Ax witnessing horrors), here's chapters one, two, three, and four.

####

As soon as the Axolotl and the Time Giant exited Dimension Zero, they were greeted with a faceful of rain. Apparently the storm cloud with the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force had been waiting for them. "The fires in the remaining dimensions around 2Δ are finally acting like normal fires," it said. "No teleporting around, no more targeting the mortals. We've got the worst ones under control. Think we'll save about 40% of Dimension 2 Zeta and 30% of Dimension 2 Epsilon. Whatever you two did in there, it helped."

"Yeah, well." The Time Giant shrugged, nearly dislodging the Axolotl from his perch draped over her shoulder. "It was one of those problems that fixes itself once you figure out what it is."

So the Time Giant had been right. The triangle's attempts to rescue "his" "people" and to stabilize his strange underworld in Dimension Zero had been what was destabilizing all the other dimensions. As much of a relief as it was to hear the situation was improving... part of the Axolotl had hoped that the fires were still as untamed as ever—because that would have meant the triangle wasn't guilty of perpetuating the blaze.

(If the triangle wasn't actively working to keep Dimension Zero stable, how much longer until it collapsed and erased all its imprisoned souls from existence? Would it be long enough to get them all out?)

The cloud asked, "So, did you find out what destroyed 2Δ?" Right. The Axolotl had almost forgotten that was what they'd originally been looking for.

The Time Giant shook her head grimly. "Didn't see any sign of it. But I've got a suspicion who did it."

The Axolotl said sharply, "All we have is circumstantial evidence." And he'd ripped into more than one god who'd tried to damn a mortal based on circumstantial evidence. 

The cloud's sunbeam darted between their faces. Slowly, it said, "I take it you mean our triangular friend. I don't have any proof yet about the original fire; but he's been spreading the fire, I know that much."

"How did you know?" the Axolotl asked. He and the Time Giant had only just learned it themselves inside Dimension Zero.

"We've been interviewing some refugees while you were out. I—think you'll want to speak to them." The cloud directed this statement to the Axolotl.

The Time Giant said, "Later. The triangle says he's willing to move his people to another dimension." She gestured toward VENDOR, flanked by the two cops THEY'd apparently adopted as THEIR personal escorts. THEY were ranting into a phone that the crab-looking cop was holding up for them. "So we've gotta go discuss refugee stuff with Vendy McVendface."

"VENDOR," the cloud corrected.

"Vend 'er? I hardly even know 'er!"

The gods turned to stare at the border of Dimension Zero as the triangle laughed at his own joke until he wheezed. "I had to. It was sitting right there! It woulda been a crime not to pick it up!" His cackles slowly petered out. "What, no laughs? Maybe the joke doesn't translate."

The Time Giant shrugged. "I kinda thought it was funny."

"Ah, whatever."

"Have you been listening the whole time?" the Axolotl asked, not sure whether to be amused or mortified.

"Don't worry about it, I've got something more important to say." He zipped up along the surface of Dimension Zero's border until he was eye level with the Time Giant. "Hey, Hourglass. I didn't say I'm ready to move my people. I said I'm ready to talk about moving. Your guy better sell me on it. If your offer isn't worth it, we're not leaving."

"Are you serious?" She screwed up her face. "Ain't not being erased from existence worth it?"

"I have very high standards. And there are fates worse than death."

"Name one."

The triangle only thought about it a second before he answered, "Captivity."

####

It wasn't until the Axolotl and the Time Giant left the border of Dimension Zero that the Axolotl realized, the moment the triangle had shown up, the storm cloud had disappeared. It was now drizzling surreptitiously near VENDOR, waiting for them to catch up.

As they approached VENDOR, the Time Giant said, "You should give VENDOR the news."

The Axolotl gave her an affronted look. "Why me?" This wasn't his responsibility. He hadn't been hired to do a job here. He shouldn't even be here; he was essentially an over-involved lookie-loo.

"You'd be better at talking to 'em. You move in the same circles."

"I'm not a politician, I'm a lawyer."

"I'm an engineer." She took the Axolotl off her shoulder and nudged his butt to set him gently floating in VENDOR's direction.

The Axolotl twisted around to give her a resentful look, but swam toward the vending machine.

THEY ignored the Axolotl until THEY finished THEIR current call, at which point THEY snapped, "What?" and he explained the situation. Blessedly, THEY didn't ask any further questions or give him any instructions; THEY just grumbled, "Finally," and told the crab cop, "Call the Vitruvian Mandala—we'll need to find places for another ten million 2D refugees."

"And 1D," the Axolotl said.

"Yes, yes." THEY muttered under THEIR fan, "And hopefully we'll get that triangle to the afterlife he deserves and be done with him."

The Axolotl doubted THEY meant a serene eternal paradise. Pointedly, he said, "Which afterlife he goes to is his choice."

Afterlife law was his speciality. Not cases like "based on this mortal's good and bad deeds, which form has she earned for her next reincarnation?" or "has this soul earned entry into his religion's realm of the wicked, the good, or the heroic?" Those were decided on the local level.

Rather, he tended to handle inter-pantheon, sometimes even interdimensional, cases—like, "if a mortal born on one planet lives and dies on another planet, which world's afterlife has claim to his soul?" "Is a soul's right to return to her native afterlife forfeit if she's apprehended in another god's jurisdiction for crimes against reality?" "Can a death god in a dimension where wandering ghosts are banned incarcerate a ghost from a dimension where wandering is legal?" "How does a soul's right to claim an afterlife weigh against an afterlife's right to claim a soul?" "Who has the right to judge a deceased mortal in the first place?"

The Axolotl personally thought that mortals deserved to be treated as mercifully as possible—starting with respecting the dead's own choice of afterlife above all others, and ending with outlawing damnation at the interdimensional level.

The rest of the multiverse... didn't agree with him yet. He didn't intend to stop until they did.

He went on, "Case law has long established that unless the dead made other arrangements premortem, they will be taken to—in order—the afterlife of their birth, their death, or their choice. The afterlife under whose jurisdiction the triangle lived and died has been destroyed, so he can go to any afterlife that says they're willing to take him, whether or not you think it's what he deserves—"

VENDOR's camera rolled and THEY impatiently beeped acknowledgment. "Do you mind, I'm on the phone." THEY turned THEIR back on the Axolotl to focus on THEIR next call. Yeah, most gods didn't like being told they couldn't just smite and damn whoever they felt like.

The storm cloud called the Axolotl's attention with a fork of lightning. It said, "I'll need to help coordinate the rescue efforts with VENDOR. I can get the report on what you learned in there from the engineering inspector; but you need to go talk to some of the witnesses of the fire. Maybe you should ask the Vitruvian Mandala when He's free."

That was the second time it had told him to talk to the refugees. "Why?"

"You said that yellow triangle's your friend, right?"

"I... did, yes."

The cloud didn't explain any further. It only said, "Be careful around him."

####

VENDOR bustled around making preparations to receive ten million new refugees with absolutely no input from anyone else on the scene; the cloud's time was split between coordinating with the ATTF and getting a full debrief from the Time Giant on the conditions inside Dimension Zero; and left alone, the Axolotl found himself staring into the roiling barrier around the bloated singularity.

He swore, no matter where he looked, in the center of his view he could see a tiny, yellow, triangular pinprick of light, like an afterimage burned into his retina. No matter how deeply he looked into Dimension Zero, somehow his eyes always seemed focused on the triangle, making it appear nearer and then farther, like an optical illusion.

Be careful around him. He wished his Oracle were here to ask him questions. Helping her mortal mind make sense of this whole affair might help him make sense of it himself.

He'd seen the horror in the triangle's eye when he realized that he was the one incinerating the dimensions that had once bordered his own. He'd heard the sincerity in the triangle's voice when he said he could feel the deaths of every life that fell into his dream realm—the deaths that he himself was causing. He'd felt the guilt pouring from the triangle when he realized his efforts to save "his people" from being killed were what was killing them. Whatever else the Axolotl knew, he was sure the triangle hadn't meant to cause anyone harm. He hadn't started the fires on purpose. He just... didn't know what he was doing.

And "his people"—what did that mean?

Maybe some of the people in the triangle's dance party were from his dimension. The Axolotl couldn't totally confirm that they weren't; if the triangle had somehow survived, then why not others?

But it was undeniable that the triangle had been "rescuing"/kidnapping people from other dimensions, and he talked about the people he'd rescued no differently from the people from his own dimension.

Why? Had members of his species spread to neighboring dimensions? Or had his species come from another? Had his people established diplomatic relationships with cultures in neighboring universes, enough for them to consider themselves one people?

"Certainly not," said the Vitruvian Mandala.

He was a god from one of the worlds in Dimension 2 Gamma that the ATTF had managed to evacuate before the dimension was fully incinerated. Now, He was just another refugee, huddled with His confused, terrified people on one of the temporary worlds provided by VENDOR, curved uncomfortably atop the spherical planet. He had to be reeling from the loss of His home just as much as His people were—if not more, since He had known and seen and done and loved much more that any single mortal could. But nevertheless, He'd immediately stepped up to assist with organizing the rescue services, acting as a liaison between VENDOR and the 2D mortals to find new homes for them. 

And some of His people had been among the ones dragged into Dimension Zero—which was no doubt why the cloud had suggested the Axolotl speak to Him.

The Vitruvian Mandala may have been a minor creation god (He'd only created a galaxy) but He was more than powerful enough to know whether any of His people had ever made interdimensional contact. The Axolotl had waited until He had a moment to spare from assisting VENDOR, and then asked Him about their relationship with Dimension 2 Delta.

"I seeded life on all the populated worlds in My galaxy. None of My worlds have ever so much as been colonized by another galaxy in Our own dimension, much less people from another dimension," He said. "And We're a young galaxy—the most advanced starfarers have hardly ventured beyond their own solar systems; none have left Our dimension."

"And they've never spoken to other dimensions...?"

"No. The first contact We ever had with 'Dimension 2 Delta'—or what was left of it—was when the Magister Mentium began dragging My people into his underworld. The leaders I've had a chance to speak to from Dimension 2 Epsilon and Dimension 2 Zeta have told Me the same. " He called the triangle 'Magister Mentium' without any of the halting awkwardness the Axolotl did, or even the self-consciousness the triangle himself did. The Vitruvian Mandala had never known the triangle as anything but the Magister Mentium—and in His voice, it sounded not like an oversized title for a tiny triangle, but like the name of a fellow god.

But—the Axolotl had only asked the Vitruvian Mandala about Dimension 2 Delta. He hadn't brought up the Magister Mentium, nor mentioned that he was asking about the kidnapped people. "How did you know about the Magister Mentium?"

The Vitruvian Mandala said simply, "Because he introduced himself to My people before he started stealing them."

At the Axolotl's shocked silence, He said, "Do you want to see what they saw?"

####

When the agents with the ATTF had started interviewing survivors about the cosmic fire, naturally, they'd first approached the other gods for information. And then the gods had approached the mortals under their charge to get their testimonies and pass them on to the apoc agents.

The Vitruvian Mandala had telepathically extracted His people's memories and copied them into tiny glassy discs with brass rims. He sifted through dozens of discs before offering the memory of a narrow rhombus from one of His most technologically advance worlds; and the Axolotl stared through the disk to experience the mortal's memory.

The memory started with a sight that had become all too familiar to the Axolotl: a distant line of burning blue fire. It took a moment for the Axolotl to orient himself to the mortal's razor-thin two-dimensional view of her world; but once he did, he realized that, from her perspective, it wasn't a line of light. To her, it was the entire sky. The constellations of faraway flat stars had vanished, and their place was taken by an inferno.

The whole world reeked of a stench that the rhombus didn't recognize, but that the Axolotl did: burning hydrogen. In most dimensions, three-fourths of all the matter in the entire universe—including the very stars themselves—consisted of hydrogen molecules. Hydrogen burned a pale blue. The stench in the air, the pale blue light filling the sky, was the smell and sight of the raw materials of reality itself burning away.

The nearby buildings had emptied into the city streets as people abandoned their work to coming outside and stare at the burning sky. Somewhere—it seemed very far away—people were screaming, sirens were wailing, government proclamations were issuing out of radios and loudspeakers; but on these streets, on the border of the city where the sky was most visible, everyone was horribly silent. 

An eerie feeling of unreality hung over the world. It felt like a scene out of a dream. The rhombus's heart filled with dread. She didn't understand why or how the sky was burning, but she felt in her bones that it must mean the end of the world.

She never imagined that it was the end of the entire universe.

And then, more real than reality itself, bright enough to blind, a radioactive-yellow shape appeared in the middle of the crowd. Over the gasps of shock, a voice that echoed between the buildings proclaimed, "Gooood evening! Lines, bis, and tris; quads, quints, and more—my beloved believers and my new friends—I'm sure you all recognize my voice from the news, but it's a pleasure to finally meet you all in the flesh!"

She wasn't sure he had any flesh to meet. He was ghostlike, as insubstantial as smoke—and just as formless as smoke, too: his shape constantly shimmered and shifted and distorted, his skin appearing and disappearing as his internal organs were exposed; one moment a leg visible, the next a hand, then no limbs at all, just his blindingly bright body. His organs were all wrong. When she could stand to squint at the specter's light, in the split seconds that his ghostly form was properly visible, she thought he looked like a triangle.

(She'd never seen the third dimension, never even attempted to imagine what a 3D shape might look like. She didn't realize his appearance shifted because he was a 2D shape tilting in 3D directions trying to lay flat on the 2D plane of Dimension 2 Gamma, and not quite succeeding. )

"Allow me to introduce myself properly: I'm the Magister Mentium, seer of the third dimension! Your gateway to the stars and stardom, your guide to prophets and profits, your mastermind and master of minds; and, if you're lucky, your new eternal party host! I'm sure the honor's all yours—but please, resist the urge to swoon! I have a limited time offer that you cannot afford to miss."

For all his self-aggrandizing, the triangle was still completely unfamiliar. She didn't see recognition in the eyes of any of the shapes around them, either. She doubted he'd ever actually been on the news at all, unless it was in one of those dubious programs about ghost hunting or UFOs. 

But the triangle charged on regardless: "I'm here to bring you salvation from— Whoops! We've got a crying baby over here. Sorry junior, I'm on stage right now." She hadn't even noticed the crying until the triangle pointed it out; the whole world seemed dull and muffled and gray except for the triangle. One of his arms stretched in the child's direction and disappeared; there was a split-second flash of black fingers where the baby used to be; and then both hand and baby vanished, the baby's cries morphing into a shriek of terror that slowly faded into the unseeable distance.

"My baby!" a rectangle wailed. She rushed up to the alien triangle. "What did you do to my baby, you—" She tried to seize his arm, and let out a howl of pain as her hands burst into flame.

"Calm down, Mama, your little brat's okay!" He reached out and flicked the rectangle back. His finger hit her with the force of a catapult. She tumbled away from him through dimensions unknown, skins and bone and organs turning inside-out over each other; and slammed into a nearby building, fusing with the wall. All that was visible of her was a thin cross section of meat. The rhombus couldn't imagine where the rest of her had gone—but she could smell the burning flesh.

"Too bad I can't say the same of you." The triangle turned to stare them all down, gaze darting restlessly from face to face. His pupil was bizarrely long, animal-like; and his gaze burned. She was sure that, if his gaze had lingered on her a moment longer, she would have caught fire, too. "We're burning time, people! Would anyone else like to be excused? Last call!"

There were a few whispers, but no one moved. The crowd was petrified with fear.

"Terrrrific! Then you'd better listen close, because I only have time to say this once," the triangle said. "Here's the deal! There's only two kinds of people: the ones who hate captivity, and the ones who love it. Oh yeah, there are people who love it! Some of 'em like inflicting it, some of 'em are too stupid to think for themselves, and some of 'em just want to do terrible things and pretend they had no choice!

"But I'm here to help the rest of you—you know who you are! You're the ones who never quite tessellated with the other kids! The ones who are sick and tired of your family saying you had so much potential and asking where it's all gone! You can feel the barbs of social obligation hooking into your flesh—yeah, you there, you know what I'm talking about, I see you!—and you'd rip your own skin off if you thought it would set you free! It won't, by the way—take it from a guy who knows! Luckily for you, my way's more effective and less painful! Probably!"

In spite of their fear, more than a few shapes had started pushing closer to the triangle. He was speaking to them.

"So if you crave freedom—from work, laws, morality, physics... death..."

More than a few shapes glanced fearfully toward the sky.

"...if you want to see the stars with me—then raise your hand! Reach out to me! Watch your enemies burn and escape to a realm of dreams with no rules and no responsibilities! That's right, this way!"

As soon as he said raise your hand, it seemed like half the crowd stretched their hands out to him —and the longer he spoke, the more reached out.

She recognized some of the people reaching out—some of them were her neighbors and friends. Here was a beaten-down pentagon who'd spent his whole life being controlled, and just wanted freedom from the ruthless monsters who used and abused him. There was a controlling circle who'd spent her whole life using and abusing others, and wanted freedom to be an even more ruthless monster. They all reached toward the triangle just the same—as if they'd been waiting their whole lives for an opportunity to escape. The desperate, the downtrodden, the dastardly, the barely daring to hope. If the whole burning world felt like a bizarre dream, then this must have felt like a dream come true to them.

But to the rhombus, it felt like a nightmare. She had to fight through the crowd to back away from him. 

"No need to push! If you can't see me, just hold your hand toward my voice, I can see you!"

The smell of burning existence was growing stronger.

Was this a test? An approaching apocalypse and a shapeshifting god of light and fire offering a last-minute rapture. The sky was burning—what hope did they have if they didn't go with him? More of the crowd was reaching for him now—terrified of him, but more terrified of their fate if they didn't. The rhombus reluctantly stretched out a hand.

"Thaaat's right, this way! I've got all of you!" His voice was taking on an edge of impatience. "Just—come on already! Hurry up!"

She was at just the right angle to catch a split second glimpse of the triangle through the crowd. She saw as the person closest to him reached out and grasped his hand. She saw as the first of the triangle's new followers burst into flames. The unlucky soul crumbled to ash before they had a chance to scream.

"I said no pushing."

The rhombus jerked her hand back and hoped the triangle hadn't seen her through the crowd. He wasn't offering salvation.

Most of the crowd wasn't lucky enough to get a view of the unfortunate shapes at the front who were already learning what a deal with the triangle entailed. The rhombus could hear people, as though from a vast distance, calling out to the triangle: "Take me, take me!" "I'll do anything!" It seemed like the whole world was trying to get closer to him; she thought she was the only one trying to move away, until she made it as far back as she could, where the crowd was thinning out, and caught a few other shapes in her peripheral vision who'd moved the same way. More than half the crowd was rushing in toward the triangle.

But apparently, it wasn't enough to satisfy him. "Come on, people!" That enthusiastic voice, halfway between a salesman and a camp counselor, was gone now. His voice went shrill with anxiety. "What's it gonna take?! I'm offering you idiots paradise, why won't you listen? Why don't you ever LISTEN TO ME?!"

For a moment, even though the triangle was completely hidden by the crowd, the rhombus could feel his fiery gaze sweep over her. She felt the way her skin threatened to burst into flames, and she knew he saw her.

She backed away until her rear angle bumped into the nearest building.

"Fine! You've had your chance! I've found my people!" The triangle's voice dropped to an angry snarl. "For all I care, the rest of you can burn."

For every hand that stretched out to the triangle, a black hand reached back toward them—dozens and dozens of hands. "Let's blow up this popsicle stand!"

He seized his new believers' hands.

Most of them instantly burst into flames.

Most of the rest were either jerked away into some unseeable direction like the baby had been, or else the burning ghost hand they were shaking yanked something out of them, leaving behind a dry corpse.

Reality warped and distorted in ways her eye couldn't make sense of: buildings wobbling and spilling apart like they were made of liquid; people twisting together with the buildings in sickening multi-corpsed abominations.

"Whoopsie!" The triangle let out a shrill, tittering laugh. It sounded pained. "S-still gotta get the hang of that. Oh well!" He spoke louder and faster. "I saved as many of you as I could, doing the best I can here, the rest of you don't matter, anyway byyye!"

And then he was gone.

And then they were all awake. She hadn't known they were asleep. Whatever happened hadn't been a mere shared nightmare; it was as though the layer of existence that dreams happened on had been pressed into the layer of existence where reality happened, and she hadn't even noticed until the pressure applied by the triangle lifted and the layers popped apart again.

The layers had popped apart too hard. Several of the shapes nearest the triangle that he hadn't taken with him instantly died—the tether between their souls on the plane of dreams and their bodies on the plane of reality snapped like overstretched rubber bands.

The fused corpse abominations had been left behind, still tangled and mangled with the architecture. The buildings were charred. The survivors were covered in burns they hadn't noticed—everywhere the triangle had looked was burned. Anything the triangle looked through was burned.

She was covered in burns. She could feel the burning inside her body. She raised her hands to her face and felt it peeling off.

She couldn't even feel the bright blue fires roaring down from the heavens.

And then something else lifted her out of the world, just before the reality around them began to burn.

She didn't know where all the people the triangle had taken had gone. But as she blacked out, of one thing she was sure: this higher dimension he'd claimed to see, this realm of stars and dreams? They weren't there.

Wherever they were, they'd gone down.

####

When the Axolotl emerged from the recorded memory, he was dizzy with horror. He had to lay down on the prefab planet next to the Vitruvian Mandala while he reeled.

"Are you all right?" the Vitruvian Mandala asked.

Broken, the Axolotl said, "he threw a baby."

"I know."

"Is the baby alright?"

Delicately, He said, "It's beyond the dimensions I'm able to sense."

The Axolotl curled his gills. Not the baby. "What about the rhombus?"

"Her body was too burned; she died shortly after this memory," the Vitruvian Mandala said. "But fortunately, only a small part of her ghost suffered third degree burns. With an ectoplasm graft she's expected to recovery enough to have a fairly normal afterlife. Inasmuch as any afterlife can be considered 'normal' for My people now."

The Axolotl had noted how many ghosts were mingling with the living mortals when he arrived on this planet. He hadn't wanted to say anything; he didn't know whether that was normal for their people. "I can give you the contact rituals of some interdimensional psychopomps I respect. Very professional and compassionate gods." Although they'd be cursing the Axolotl's name for millennia for throwing so much work on their desks.

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

The Axolotl returned the memory disc to the Vitruvian Mandala; He momentarily stared into it Himself before returning it to His collection. "He gave speeches like this all across My populated worlds. I've retrieved thousands of memories like this from My people." His voice shook; the Axolotl couldn't tell if it was with anger or grief. "There would have been more—if more had survived."

"I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else he could do for the poor god but be sorry. All the senseless, slapdash slaughter. All of it so casual and accidental.

"Why?" the Vitruvian Mandala demanded. "He didn't speak like he meant My people harm, but he couldn't have done them more harm if he'd tried! I've never heard of him before—what is he, some malevolent trickster god? Why did he do it"

"Because... he thought he was saving them." That was the only thing the Axolotl could cling to.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 5 of a 7-or-8-or-9 part fic that keeps getting more parts, about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl run out of ways to pretend Bill didn't destroy his own dimension.

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Five of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: Bill got SO CLOSE to looking like a misguided good guy last chapter, and that's why he had to throw a baby.

No actually it was because it seemed really really funny. Flipped that flat little thing like a pancake.

Due to real-world reasons, this is another chapter that isn't as edited & polished as usual, so let me know if you noticed any rough spots that need buffing. And let me know what you think! Bill with his cult leader persona cranked up to 100% is probably the hardest Bill to write.)

[hitomisuzuya]

stepcest Scara catching reader listening to whimper audios so he helps her get off by fingering her till she cums the same time the whimper audio did PLSSS your fics are so delicious long ily

stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable, please. scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. fingering. squirting. masturbation. one word of degradation.

thank you so much, dear🥺 i appreciate your kind words.

you have been very frustrated lately. you have to do something to vent the enormous crush you have on your stepbrother. especially lately, even trying to make causal conversation with him or accidentally brushing up against him in passing often left you incredibly wet.

whimper audios were your best friend. when no one was home, listening to them was the quickest, easiest way for you to get yourself off.

you usually took extreme precautions, leaving your clothes right next to you in case you had to dress in a hurry. however, things don't always work out exactly like you anticipated.

scaramouche was being treated to quite the sight right now. leaning in the doorway of your room, he feasted his eyes on you in only your panties, your legs spread and one hand tugging and pinching your nipple. the fingers of your other hand hastily skating over your clit, your eyes squeezed shut as your hips rocked up to grind your clit on the pads of your fingers.

you twitched and squirmed restlessly, occasionally giving your other nipple attention. you are struggling to muffle your moans despite the fact that you thought you were alone.

"scaramouche. scaramouche," you moan so cutely, your fingers messily skating across your throbbing clit a little faster each time you whimpered out his name. you are practically shaking, gripped with the need to find some sort of sexual relief. the rapid build up of pleasure gathering in your clit, your walls squeezing around nothing made you careless. forgetting everything around you, leaving with no awareness.

consumed by thoughts of scaramouche doing things to you that would make you whimper like the ones in the audio.

smirking, scaramouche walked over to your bed, and plucked one of your ear buds out of your ear. "are you kidding me?" he asked, putting the earbud in his ear out of curiosity. "there are better things out there to get yourself off."

you didn't think you'd ever been so startled in your life. your fingers automatically left the inside of your panties, your arm immediately going up to cover your chest. stunned, you realized that you would rather anyone else walk in on you but your step brother.

"scara! what are--" you sputtered, your cheeks couldn't have felt warmer from embarrassment. "you can't just walk in here. i thought you left for the afternoon," you practically smacked the pause button on your phone.

"what? like you are mad about it," he teased, holding your ear bud out of your reach as you lunged for it. "don't stop on my account. please, continue. i was getting hard and enjoying the show."

your mouth dropped open, genuinely at a loss for what to say. you watched, wide eyed as he reached over and rewound your audio. "what are you doing?" you asked, reaching for your clothes.

scaramouche put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down on your bed. "you poor thing. i can tell from the way your body was twitching that you are so pent up," he purred, enjoying the way your cheeks flushed darker. "let me help you out," parting your legs, his knuckles brushed against your pussy outside of your panties.

"what? would you really?" the words tumbled out of your mouth. you shouldn't be this position with your stepbrother, nor should you say such things to him. but here you were, more wet oozing onto your puffy, neglected pussy just from the thought of scaramouche helping you out.

"of course," he continued in a honeyed, slightly condescending tone as he pressed play. "what kind of stepbrother would i be if i didn't help my precious stepsister discover there are better ways to get off," he nudged your panties aside, his cock pulsing feeling you soak on his fingers as they dipped between your folds. "especially since you were thinking about me the whole time."

"i wasn'-" you protested, shivering as your hips twitched to grind on his fingers as they grazed your clit teasingly.

"oh, no?" scaramouche circled your clit before giving it a light, wet smack. your hips jolted off the bed, and you moaned like your body had just gotten something it'd been deprived of all your life. "scaramouche, scaramouche," he mocked your earlier moans, tracing the outline of your sopping cunt, "please, you sounded so pathetic it was adorable," he pushed two fingers inside of you.

his fingers launched an all out assault on your pussy, hooking his fingers to the knuckle and slowly stretching you apart. he timed the strokes into your sweet spot with the whimpers in the audio, your juices pooling syrupy onto his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you.

"your whimpers sound so similar to the ones in your silly audio," scaramouche snickered, his eyes following your hand as it scrambled up to pinch and roll your nipple "how cute," he pulled his fingers out of you, sweeping them up to rub and tease your clit.

you mewled as your walls squeezed empty around nothing, desperate to swallow his breathtaking fingers back inside your cunt. it wasn't long before your whimpers mingled in time with the audio. you quite frankly were in awe at his skill, skill you'd cum so hard thinking about him actually having. and it more than showed in your pleasured, fucked out expression as he bullied your sweet spot.

"that's my good girl. keep looking at me just like that," he emphasized the last three words with harsher pumps, making pleasure shatter through your core. "keep looking at me like i'm the center of your world. maybe i'll stuff these pretty holes full of toys next time."

you moaned louder hearing the promise of a next time in his voice. "you are practically suffocating my fingers, slut," he groaned, his cock straining and leaking precum in jeans watching you fall apart on his fingers.

your orgasm was building up at a dizzying level, his fingers squelching lewdly as your hips bucked into his fingers. you clawed at his wrist, writhing on the bed. scaramouche chuckled seeing you suddenly squirt all over his fingers. you must not have known you could do that judging from the startled look on your face.

a look that only last a few moments, his fingers hooking into your sweet spot just right. you shook, letting out a high pitched cry of blissed relief, cumming hard on his fingers.

scaramouche fingered you through your orgasm until the audio was finished playing. "see? it was that easy surrendering to me," he purred, licking his fingers clean once he pulled them from your pussy.

[stark-ironman]

What happens in Vegas... Part 2

18+ No Minors

A/N: guess who finally wrote a long fic!! Well long for me. This was going to be 3 parts but I got carried away. I still could though 😈 also, the Hugh drama with his Broadway costar came back up during this sooooo i wrote it in. Enjoy 😁

Warnings: Accidental marriage, angst, jealously, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it)

Part 1

The next few weeks have flown by quickly as you and Hugh learn more about each other and this new life you both chose to live. The four of you had to leave Vegas early due to the fact someone leaked some pictures from inside the wedding chapel and your hotel was swarmed by paparazzi.

Ryan and Blake reassured you that everything was okay and they was fine going home early because they was ready to see their kids. Even Hugh tried his best to cheer you up but it didn't last long due to the fact your publicists and both of your families were blowing your phones up with questions on your relationship.

As of right now, everybody thinks that the relationship has been under wraps for a while now and you both decided to just elope so until you're ready to discuss it, only Ryan and Blake know the actual details of what happened. Since leaving Vegas, you and Hugh decided it would be a better and safer decision to stay at your house in Colorado instead of his penthouse in New York.

Your place is secluded on a big plot of land and it's been the perfect opportunity for the two of you to get to learn about each other in a more intimate way, minus the kissing and the sex. Don't get it wrong, you want to do those things with him but you both agreed to move slow with this relationship so you're waiting on Hugh to feel comfortable enough to make the first move.

"Y/N, did you hear me?" Hugh asks taping his fork on your plate, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Sorry, I guess I zoned out. What did you say?" You look at him and see a small smile on his face. "I asked what are we going to do when it's time for me to head back to New York since you live here and I live there." He says cutting another piece of steak.

"I've been thinking about that actually and I wanted to talk it over with you. You know how I feel about living in big cities, especially New York.." Hugh nods and you continue, "Would you want to move here and we just keep your place in New York so we could visit? Or we find a house on the outskirts of New York?"

Hugh takes a deep breath and thinks it over for a moment before saying, "You're my home, darling. I will go wherever you go." You feel your heart skip a beat at his words and tears well up in your eyes. "Are you sure? I know how much you love New York." He grabs your hand and nods. "We can visit whenever we want. Since staying here with you, I've become a little spoiled by this secluded farm life you live. I love being here and I love being with you." His voice is sincere and you can't help but feel yourself falling in love with him even more.

"Hugh, I need to tell you something.." You start to say but you're interrupted by his phone going off. Hugh apologizes and answers, standing up and walking away, leaving you with your thoughts.

You almost admitted to this man that you love him and while you're sure he feels the same, you don't know if he's ready to take that step yet. One thing about Hugh Jackman, the man is a flirt with everyone. He's a very smooth talker and he is really easy on the eyes. Would he be willing to give all that up? Would he ever cheat on you when he tires of you?

While you know him as a loyal friend, you don't know him as a partner or a lover. Yes, right now he's saying he's happy with you but what happens once you both go back to work and he has to kiss a girl for a movie? Or do a sex scene with one? You know you're not the best looking woman in Hollywood but you try to at least hold the self confidence of one.

Your eyes search across the room until they land on Hugh and you can't help but admire the way his back muscles look and how his pants fit in just the right places. You need to snap out of this little crush before you wind up hurting yourself and the friendship you two have had for many years.

You're pulled out of your thoughts by Hugh walking back in the dining room, sitting back across from you with a sigh. "That was my agent. They want me to come back to New York and do a Broadway show called The Music Man." He says, looking in your eyes as if trying to see your reaction. "When do they want you to leave?" You ask, trying to be a little nonchalant but you know he can tell you're not happy. "They want me to fly out of here tomorrow and be in rehearsals the next day."

"You should go. It's a great opportunity for you." You say. "Are you sure?" Hugh's eyes widen, shocked at you giving him the opportunity to leave. "I'm not going to stand in the way of this. You love singing and I love seeing you happy. Plus, I can come stay with you once I get things settled here."

Hugh breaks out in a smile, kissing your hand softly before standing up. "Let me go pack and we will spend the rest of the night watching movies and cuddling." He runs off to pack, leaving you sitting at the table by yourself with a heavy heart.

You don't want him to go but you're not the type of person to ruin a great opportunity for anybody, especially Hugh. You just hope he doesn't find somebody else while you're both away from each other.

------

It's been about a month since you've seen Hugh. He had his first show and you was there in the front row happily supporting him but shortly after the show ended, rumors circulated that Hugh was already cheating on you with his co-star, especially after she came out saying they spend a lot of time together in her dressing room. You seen the chemistry on stage between them but you was hoping it was nothing.

Hugh has tried to call and text you for the past couple of weeks but either you've short replied him or just said you was too busy to talk.

You were hurt. You knew it, Hugh knew it, everybody knew it. Ryan and Blake have even tried calling to tell you the rumors weren't true but you just couldn't handle hearing it.

A knock on your door sounds throughout the house and you already know who it is. "Darling, please open the door." Hugh's voice is muffled by the door but you ignore it, feeling the tears well up in your eyes again.

"Baby, please. I promise you nothing happened between me and her. She's just doing it for the publicity." He says, hearing something sliding against the door as he continues, "I know things have been less than ideal with us but the past few months have been the happiest of my life and it's all because of you. I only have eyes for you, even before we got together, it was always you. Ryan used to make fun of me for how in love with you I was and that's never changed. Accidentally marrying you was the best thing I ever did and I would do it all again in a heartbeat. I love you, darling and if you don't want me here then at least tell me that you don't."

Hugh goes silent and you can't help but walk towards the window, seeing him sit with his back against the door wiping at his eyes. You open the door slightly, watching as he stands up quickly to look at you.

"I'm sorry," You whisper, looking into his eyes, "I knew this would happen the day you recieved that phone call to go back to New York. I didn't want you to go but I will never stand in the way of your career. I tried to stop myself from being happy with you, from loving you, but no matter what I do I can't help but fall in love with you even more with each passing day. I ignored you because I was scared the rumors were true and I wanted to protect myself. You're a natural flirt, you do it without even knowing majority of the time and I didn't want to make you change anything about yourself. I love you the way you are but Hugh, I don't want you giving other girls the time of day. Call me selfish, call me whatever but I want you to myself. I want to have kids with you and live on a plot of land away from the spotlight. I love you more than I ever loved anybody and it scares the shit out of me."

Your confession causes the tears to flow as Hugh steps in the house, taking your face in his hands as he wipes the tears away. "I want this. I want you." He whispers, looking down at your lips.

His lips meet yours. Your arms wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, vaguely hearing the door shut as he leads you to the living room, laying you gently on the couch as he slots himself in between your legs.

Your hands find the hem of his shirt, raising it up and over his head as his lips meet yours again, his tongue running across your bottom lip before sliding past and attacking your tongue. A moan escapes your lips,

"Do you want to stop?" He mumbles against your lips. "No." You whisper back and he quickly sits up, removing your clothes before doing the same to his. Your eyes widen, quickly remembering the last time you two had sex was when you both blacked out in Vegas, but Hugh quickly reassures you. "I'll take my time, darling. I'll be easy... today." He smirks, crouching on the ground as he spreads your legs,

Hugh admires your core, as if savoring the whole thing to memory before lowering his head and licking a stripe up your slit, running it over the little nub and teasing it. "Taste so perfect.." He murmmers, wasting no time closing his mouth down and latching onto you as if he's been starved. You gasp as his tongue worked against you with long, calculated strokes, your hand gripping his hair as if your life depended on it as his lips enclose around the sensitive little bud.

You moaned his name loudly, your back arching with each pass of his tongue as the pleasure hits in ways you've never experienced before, your head falling back against the arm of the couch.

His mouth continues it's assault, your legs trembling around him as he pulls you close to your orgasm when you feel two of his fingers slide in, his lips enclosing around your sensitive spot causing you to cry out from the pleasure. He slides a third finger in, pumping his fingers into you as your release rips through you, keeping his mouth on you as he works you through your release.

Your body trembles and you're left breathless, thighs shaking from the intensity of the moment as he sits back to look at you with the most sinister smirk you've ever seen on him. His lips glossy and his hair tousled from what just happened and he leans forward, kissing you deeply to let you taste yourself.

Hugh's hand grabs his base, rubbing the head of his erection against your entrance and you shiver from the sensitivity, moaning softly when he dips his head down towards your breast and takes a nipple in his mouth.

He presses the tip against your wet folds, sliding into you slowly as if to not hurt you. Once he bottoms out, he let's you adjust to his length and when you give him permission to move, he moves slow making each thrust hard and deep. You notice he's holding back though so you decide to remind him not to.

"Hugh," You breathe out, "I won't break.. you can fuck me." Hugh let's out a low growl, placing your legs over his shoulders as he starts pounding into you, the force causing the couch to slightly move and your fingers to dig in his forearms.

His thrusts continue to go deep as you watch his head fall back from the pleasure, his mouth slightly open and low moans fall from within. "Fuck, I knew you were made for me... your pussy was made to be all mine.." He grunts, leaning down to sloppily kiss you, pressing your knees to your chest. "I'm never letting you go after this. You own me now, baby." His voice is full of promise and you kiss him again, holding on tightly to his shoulders while he continues his hard, brutal pace.

"Hugh... I'm close.." You choke out against his lips and he smirks at you. "Come for me baby." He says angling his hips just slightly, memorizing your face as you release all over his cock, moaning softly when he hears his name fall from your lips.

He continues his pace, chasing his own release. You clenching around him pulling him closer and closer, finally releasing deep inside of you and a deep growl erupting from him. Hugh rides out both of your releases, thrusting slowly inside of you for a few minutes before finally pulling out, both of you moaning softly at the feeling.

Hugh grabs you and pulls you on top of him, holding you close as he kisses the top of your head and you play with his chest hair. "I meant it, darling. After today, you own me. I don't want anybody else." He softly says, looking down at you. "I'm all yours too. Especially after that." You say with a chuckle, causing him to chuckle to.

"Will you marry me, again?" Hugh asks and you lift your head up to look at him. "I know it's not the most romantic time but we agreed we would do a ceremony if we chose to be together. I want to marry you and say our vows, this time with us both remembering it."

"I would marry you in every lifetime." You say, kissing him softly.

For the first time since Vegas, you finally feel like everything is falling into place and you are extremely happy for the future with Hugh.

[hard-core-super-star]

if you're weak, come to me [wandanat]

pairing: top!natasha romanoff x bottom!wanda maximoff

summary: wanda gets injured during a mission and natasha is TOTALLY fine with that (not). they seek each other's comfort in the only way they know how.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with so many feelings and a dash of plot; mentions of dom/sub dynamics; natasha has so many feelings and no way of verbalizing them; wanda's brattiness is implied; fingering {wanda receiving}; flirty banter; begging; teasing; so many kisses; non-fatal injuries; mentions of blood; not mentioned but this takes place somewhere between age of ultron and civil war

wordcount: 3.6k

a/n: so...this week has been a LOT, i have many thoughts but they're all scattered and filled with rage so i'll save them for another time. the U.S election results have left me feeling both incredibly hopeless and numb and to counteract the heaviness of the moment, i decided to finish this fic instead of spiraling or doomscrolling. easier said than done but it's fine. thank you so much to the lovely person who commissioned this, i had a great time writing for this paring. i still don't feel super confident about my characterization of natasha but it's getting there 😅 anyway, enough rambling, i'm sending you guys all my love and support, my askbox is always open <3

* * * * * * *

No one said being an Avenger was easy.

Outside of the long hours, and the possibility of the world ending every other day, there were the unmeasurable amounts of guilt and regret and worry that seemed to plague each and every one of them. They could probably keep a whole building of therapists employed with the amount of trauma they carried.

Everyone at the compound was well aware of their personal situations, but no two felt it as strongly as Natasha and Wanda. There was no denying how well they worked together, how easy their chemistry was, the way they knew exactly what to do to stop each other from spiraling when they needed it most.

Unfortunately, there were moments where their worries clashed together and left them feeling worse than usual.

Moments like today.

Wanda had been chosen to go on a mission without Natasha and the widow had managed to threaten just about everyone she could think of until she was able to go with her girlfriend.

It all would have been fine had the witch not been incredibly annoyed by what she felt to be an overreaction. Even that would have been fine if they hadn't ended up going on the mission while they were still upset with each other.

They weren't mad enough to not worry about each other, but they still chose to go separate ways and focus on getting different things done. Something that would have been fine had Wanda not been ambushed by far too many enemy agents at once.

Steve had been the closest one to the witch and had managed to get there before things turned too sour. Unfortunately, that had been enough to make the Widow spiral. She'd heard her girlfriend request backup in that shaky voice that gave away her fear and she'd been unable to do anything about it.

If Steve had taken any longer to get to Wanda...she didn't want to think about what could have happened. She couldn't think about it.

And yet it was the only thing on her mind on the way home.

The mission had been successful, but she still felt like a failure. Like somehow, despite how inaccurate of an assessment it was, it had all been her fault. If she hadn't allowed her ego to get the better of her, she would have been there. She would have been able to help her girlfriend before she got hurt.

The witch wasn't mortally wounded in any way, but that didn't matter to her.

Wanda, for her part, felt fine. Sure, she was sore and in pain and bleeding, but she was an Avenger, getting hurt came with the territory.

It became obvious to her that her girlfriend didn't feel the same way as her when the redhead decided to ignore her on the way home. The Quinjet was small, and yet the distance between them felt massive.

It wasn't like her to sneak into people's minds without permission, but this was different. This was Natasha, and her concern for her outweighed most of her guilt around using her powers around her.

Maybe it was a bad idea, but she did it anyway, and it allowed her to see the pain her girlfriend was carrying on her shoulders. It pained her to know Natasha was blaming herself. That she didn't believe she was worth all the love the younger woman had for her.

There wasn't an easy solution to that kind of guilt, but Wanda would be dammed if she allowed her girlfriend to continue to suffer in silence.

The second they landed back at the Compound, Natasha made her way to the witch's side. There was an unreadable expression on her face as she looked her lover over and she silently extended her hand out for her.

Wanda wasted no time in accepting her help.

They made their way to their shared room, holding onto each other a little tighter than necessary. Neither of them commented on it, though, they needed the physical contact more than they were willing to admit out loud.

The silence between them bordered on awkward, but they didn't even attempt to break it. They needed to have a long conversation and it needed to happen away from prying eyes and ears.

After a tense walk, they managed to make it inside their room, and Natasha instantly set the younger woman down on the bed. "Do you need to change your bandages?"

The mention of the badly wrapped bandages made Wanda chuckle despite herself. She wasn't sure whose idea it was to go on a mission without Dr. Banner who, despite how awkward he could be about it, always did a great job at patching them up when they were hurt. Sure, it wasn't his area of expertise, but he was much better at it than Steve.

"No, I'm okay," she replied, not aware of the effect her words were going to have on her girlfriend.

The Widow let out a loud scoff. "Oh, you're okay? You were stabbed and shot at but you're okay?"

"'Tasha-"

"Don't." Her tone left no room for arguing. "You're hurt, I'm allowed to be pissed off about it."

"I never said you couldn't be upset," Wanda muttered in response. "But that doesn't change the fact that I'm fine."

It was a shitty argument, but it was the best she could do given the circumstance. There was no way to win out over Natasha's stubbornness, so the only thing she could do was hope her words would eventually get through to her. That seeing her so sure that everything was fine would bring her out of the spiral she was stuck in.

The only response the Widow gave was a long sigh, her eyes betraying the true weight of her feelings.

Her hand reached out before she could stop it, and Wanda met her halfway, leaning into her touch with a small smile.

Natasha's fingers trailed across the witch's jawline as her eyes took in every little scrape that painted her delicate features. A part of her knew  she was overreacting. That they're safe and sound and Wanda's injuries will heal in no time.

And yet, it was impossible to stop desperation from building within her. The worries that threatened to swallow her whole if she allowed herself to think about things too much.

"'Tasha." Wanda's voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to get through to her lover one more time. "I'm okay."

"You were hurt."

"I've been through worse."

The words were meant to be reassuring, but they had the opposite effect. If anything, they made Natasha feel more helpless. Like despite all her skills, all her knowledge, all her training, she'll never be able to keep her lover safe.

She'll never be enough.

"Stop that, you're more than enough."

Her eyebrow raised involuntarily in response. "Get out of my mind, little witch."

"Hey! It's not my fault your thoughts are so loud."

Despite the heaviness that still lingered within her, a chuckle managed to escape past her lips. In an instant, she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Wanda's pouting lips.

It amazed her how soft the witch could be after all the pain and violence she grew up in.

More than that, it amazed her how quickly her mood was able to shift when she was with the younger woman. How easy it was for her fears to disappear when they were together.

A soft smile was written across her features when she pulled away from her lover, her eyes a mirror that reflected the affection that was clear in the witch's eyes.

"Let me fix you up, detka." Her voice was barely above a whisper, but there was no denying the weight behind her words. "I promise I'll be quick."

Wanda couldn't help but shift nervously in response. It wasn't like she didn't trust Natasha, of course she trusted the redhead, but she knew how she could get. How easy it was for her to get caught up seeing monsters instead of shadows.

"I...are you sure? My bandages should be okay for a few hours."

"Not with the way Steve wrapped them," Natasha replied with a hint of humor in her tone.

The humor wasn't enough to mask her worry, and yet Wanda felt herself relaxing a little. If it helped her girlfriend feel better, she had no complaints about allowing her to clean her wounds up a little.

"Okay."

It was a single word that conveyed the trust she held in the redhead.

Wanda shifted back on the bed until she was laying down with her head resting on their pillows. She'd been in this position many times before, but this was different. There was an edge of vulnerability that clung to the air between them, a need for reassurance that neither of them could verbalize.

Natasha moved closer, not quite settling between the witch's legs, simply coming close enough to reach for her shirt. Her hands shook slightly as she lifted her girlfriend's shirt, her eyes taking in every inch of smooth skin that was revealed to her. Her heart ached in her chest as she examined each and every one of the cuts and bruises that littered her torso.

"I promise I'm okay," Wanda whispered, noticing her girlfriend's hesitation.

"I believe you."

Still, her head ducked down until her lips met the skin that had been revealed to her.

The gasp that escaped past the younger woman's lips made her smile. She still didn't feel completely okay but the helplessness that had settled in her chest was slowly easing away.

Her lips traced every inch of battered skin they could reach, her hands pushing the fabric up and over Wanda's head. With her shirt out of the way, she was able to fully look over the  bandages wrapped around her girlfriend's injuries. They didn't look as bad as she had expected them to and she subconciously let out a sigh of relief.

It didn't matter how many times she was reassured that the younger woman was fine, she needed to see it with her own eyes. To realize she wasn't bleeding out, there was no bullet lodged inside her, no sharp knife sticking out of her. She was fine.

She was safe.

And she was already arching her back in the way that made the Widow lose all of her control.

It wasn't about the pleasure, though. They both knew that. It was about comfort.

About being there for each other in the only way that was able cut through their anxieties. Maybe it was wrong to have to rely on the physical to get rid of the mental strain they were always under, but it made sense to them. More than that, it worked.

Because as much as they trusted and loved each other, being vulnerable wasn't something that came easy to them. Especially not after a mission when their fight or flight insticts were still on.

"I'm here," Natasha mumbled, shifting until she was hovering over her girlfriend. "I'm right here, Wands."

The words brought a beautiful smile to the witch's face. "I know...but you're still too far."

Wanda managed to work up enough courage to wrap her arms around Natasha's neck. She tried to keep her grip loose, just in case the Widow wasn't ready for too much physical contact.

"Patience," she replied. "I'm in the middle of something here. I still haven't cleaned you up."

The witch couldn't help but roll her eyes at that. The last thing on her mind right was her injuries. She felt fine. More than that, she felt weirdly needy and she needed her girlfriend's lips in a completely different spot.

She knew complaining probably wouldn't get her very far, but she couldn't help it. Maybe some light playfulness would help Natasha feel better.

"Come on, 'Tasha, that can wait. I need you right now."

The redhead paused for a second, green eyes focused intently on Wanda's face. She thought things over for a second, silently analyzing the situation in front of her. Her girlfriend seemed fine. All that seemed to linger were her wounds but not the pain they had initially brought.

It was irresponsible, she knew that much, but how was she supposed to deny her beautiful lover?

"How are you always so needy?" She replied, her soft smile growing just a tad bit teasing. "Don't tell me I've spoiled you too much."

"Maybe you have." Wanda shrugged. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I beg to differ."

Natasha leaned down to capture the witch's lips again. This time, there was a little less softness to the contact and a little more urgency. And a lot of unrestrained desperation neither of them knew what to do with.

One kiss turned into two which turned into Wanda digging her nails into Natasha's shoulders while her hips bucked involuntarily. The Widow's thigh was too far to provide the witch with any real friction and yet it only made everything feel ten times more intense. An intensity that always seemed to catch up to them when they were together in such a way.

"Nat..." Wanda groaned, head tilting back in both pleasure and desperation.

"I know." Despite the teasing edge to her response, there was nothing but affection in her tone. Nothing but devotion for her lover. "What did I say about patience?"

One of Natasha's hands made its way between their bodies, her fingers tracing a path she knew by memory. The witch didn't seem to be in the mood for much teasing but she couldn't help it. There was something so exciting about turning her girlfriend into a desperate mess.

She knew, on some level, where it came from. That Wanda needed to be taken care of just as badly as she needed to be in control. They were on opposite ends of the same spectrum.

The witch arched her back in an attempt to push her chest further into Natasha's hand, a quiet moan leaving her lips as she teased her hardned nipples. "Stop teasing."

"I've barely started, detka. Don't tell me you already can't handle it?"

"You're so mean."

"You like it."

Wanda didn't have any time to refute that claim because right when she opened her mouth to speak, the redhead decided to finally give in to what her body needed.

"I oh-" The witch's body shuddered as Natasha's hand moved down, slidding into her tight pants and cupping her wet heat. The fabric of her underwear was still in the way, but neither of them cared too much about the obstruction.

Matching moans left their lips as the Widow found the wet spot staining the younger woman's underwear, her fingers moving over the soaked fabric with renowed purpose.

"What was that?" Natasha teased. "Were you going to say something?"

Her girlfriend's tone had Wanda clenching around pure air, her hips bucking involuntarily in search of more friction. "N-no."

"Are you sure? I can stop if you need me to."

"Fuck no. Don't stop...please."

"Good girl."

The praise sent shivers down Wanda's spine and effectively turned all her thoughts to pure mush. It should have been embarrassing how quickly she fell apart for her lover and yet all she could feel was pleasure. And maybe a little pride at how fast she managed to make Natasha give in to what she wanted.

That sort of pride was mutual, though, and it caused desire to thrum in their veins. Desire for what? That wasn't as easy to figure out. Thankfully, they had nothing but time to try.

Natasha quickly grew tired of teasing her girlfriend. Not because she didn't want to keep doing it (she really really did), but because she could tell she needed more. And after the day they'd had, she wasn't sure she'd be able to deny the witch anything.

Her fingers slid inside Wanda's ruined underwear, relishing the loud gasp that escaped the younger woman when she brushed against her clit. The witch was always sensitive, and today was no exception. It made these kinds of moments all the more exciting for her.

"Oh, fuck." Wanda's voice came out more like a whine than anything else. "Please."

"Please what?" She responded, leaning down to trail kisses down the witch's jawline. "Use your words like a good girl."

The only response she could form for a few seconds was another whine. Natasha always knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say, to help her sink down into that fuzzy, submissive headspace she was slowly getting used to. They hadn't done much exploring, too busy with never-ending missions to safely allow the witch to slip, but the safe experimentation they'd done had taught them both more than enough.

Mainly, it taught them how much they both thrive in that type of scenario. How much they depend on each other, on and off the battlefield.

"Don't stop," Wanda begged, feeling her hesitation fade away with every second that went by. "Touch me, fuck me, anything, please."

If Natasha was in a crueler mood, she would have taken her time to tease the younger woman. To play with her until she was a writhing, whimpering mess beneath her.

As fun as that sounded, she wasn't in the mood for that today. She wanted to let go. To help Wanda let go until all that was left was the two of them, locked together, in the sanctuary of their room.

"That's my girl." Her words were accompanied by the movement of her fingers. They slid through Wanda's slick folds before slowly easing in to her cunt. "Fuck, you're soaked for me, detka."

The witch was more than wet enough to take Natasha's fingers but the Widow still took her time, working two fingers inside and diligently watching her lover's face contort with pleasure. The way her walls fluttered around her was intoxicating, drawing the digits in deeper and practically begging her to stay buried inside her.

She moved slowly. Not because she wanted to tease but because she wanted to draw out the sensations. To overwhelm Wanda with the devotion she couldn't properly express most days.

To be fair, it didn't seem like the younger woman minded. They were both broken, albeit in different ways, and they seemed to understand eachother without words. It was the most comforting thing either of them had ever known.

But God, she was so afraid of losing this. Of losing the one good thing she had. The one person who didn't see her as the Black Widow or a S.H.I.E.L.D. product. To Wanda, she was simply 'Tasha and it meant far more to her than anything else.

It wasn't hard for Wanda to realize the change in her girlfriend's thoughts. The sudden change in her breathing, the glosiness that overtook her eyes. She knew exactly what it meant and she knew she had to do something before the redhead started drowning in her thoughts.

So, she did the only thing she could think of right now. Mainly because thinking was getting difficult and it wasn't like she could move around too much with the Widow's fingers buried in her pussy.

Her hands moved to Natasha's face, cuping her cheeks and bringing her closer until their lips met once again. The kiss was a stark contrast to the movements of the redhead's fingers, but neither of them seemed to care.

All they cared about was being together.

Wanda pulled away first, her panting breaths turning into whimpering gasps. The coil in her stomach was about ready to snap, her hips bucking desperately into the readhead's hand. "Nat- I can't, I need-"

"What do you need, detka?" She asked, even though she already knew the answer. She couldn't help it, she loved the way the witch's eyebrows furrowed in frustration when she interrupted her just to tease her.

"Need to cum, please-" Her words turned into a moan when Natasha's thumb found her swollen clit. "Please, can I cum?"

The desperation in her girlfriend's voice made the redhead smile proudly. It was hard to think about her fears when she had the witch like this. Completely and utterly under her spell.

"Of course," she replied, speeding up the thrusts of her fingers in an attempt to bring Wanda even closer to falling apart. "Come on, be a good girl and cum for me."

The witch felt overwhelmed in the best way. All she could think about, all she could feel, was Natasha. Her words, her hands, the pleasure only she was able to bring her. It was all too much yet it felt so good.

Her walls clenched around the Widow's fingers as she lost control of herself, giving in to the pleasure and letting everything else fade away. All it took was a few sharp thrusts of Natasha's fingers before she was moaning her lover's name, her eyes squeezing shut while she rode the waves of pleasure that crashed into her.

The redhead worked her through her orgasm, making sure to slow down a little to avoid overstimulating the younger woman. She leaned down to pepper kisses across each and every inch of Wanda's neck to help ground her a little more.

Neither of them were sure how much time went by before Wanda was able to open her eyes again, but when she finally did, the large, slightly goofy, smile on her face instantly gave away how she was feeling.

Still, Natasha asked anyway.

"You okay?"

"Hmmm, yeah."

The Widow chuckled, her heart practically bursting out of her chest at the sight of Wanda so happy and relaxed. It was a sight that never failed to make her feel better, no matter how shitty her day had been before.

"Good." She placed a few extra kisses across Wanda's face before shifting further down her body. "Because we're not done yet."

Natasha was talking about the remaining injuries she hadn't taken a look at yet but if they got up to other things too...well, she wouldn't complain about that.

[yandere-sins]

I also had another random thought about being Konig's platonic darling and Ghost's romantic darling at the same time!

In a lot of fics, darlings are mostly seen as rabbit or caged birds right? I personally think that kortac operator!reader is a swan. Why? Swans glide gracefully, but that's on the surface. They're paddling madly under the water. That's her! Being an operator means that darling shows excellence, but doesn't show her struggles to achieve that position. Also, doesn't have the privilege of opening up because that is a privilege reserved for the rookies. Operators can't do that. In Kortac, darling doesn't have the privilege about opening up about Konig. I believe that all readers are beautiful, so that, plus looking perfect in the surface, radiate swan energy.

And Ghost, being an extremely sharp man with good instincts can see that she's "paddling madly under the water" despite the perfect exterior. Maybe this is what attracted him to her?

A little scenario came to mind! I hope you don't mind me adding on to this ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"Ain't you tired?" a deep, gravelly voice called out to you from behind. You flinched, all your training gone the second either Ghost or König were around, and you'd know his accent from anywhere. Glancing over your shoulder, you spotted him hidden in the dark shadows along the wall near you, leisurely leaning against the metal while raking his eyes up and down your body.

It wasn't like you needed to fear him. What you needed was to pay attention to the meeting happening in front of you, although you had to admit you had long tuned out the voices explaining new adaptions to the handbook on how to behave with fellow operators. For a while, you had been watching König, his hulking form a few rows in front of you, other, lower-ranking soldiers separating you just like you wanted. He kept shifting his weight, stealing glances back at you, making sure you were still there.

Of course, you were. You were tired, not disobedient.

"You're not supposed to be here," you mumbled back, your sentence containing the slightest hint of a question even though the fact remained. He wasn't a KorTac operator; he didn't need to take part in a meeting with them. "And you should be sleepin'. Can see your eye bags from a mile away."

"Charming..." you sighed. "You came here just to tell me that?"

"Nah. Just lookin' out for my darlin'."

You took a deep breath, widening your stance as if to put up a stronger barrier. Naturally, König's head snapped around, checking why you were moving. Still, his focus was so sharply on you that he completely missed the ghost hiding in the shadows. König was obviously annoyed about the standing arrangements, rank never suiting him whenever he had to be a professional while in the same room with you. His neck stretched, making him even taller (as if he didn't already surpass all the other soldiers), yet, when you shrugged at him, he resigned himself to listening to the lecture. Was he disappointed there was no danger? One, where he could swoop you up and carry you to safety?

"I'm not tired, thanks," you finally replied to Ghost's question, speaking slowly and calmly to not raise suspicion by letting your voice ring through the rows of operators. If König—who you were sure by now this meeting was about as someone must have ratted him out for how he was behaving around you—wasn't enough of a stress factor, you really didn't need an additional hen to hoover over you.

"No foolin' me. I know he kept you on your toes last night. Always does, that bastard. The thrill of the chase, yeh? But won't you get tired from being the mouse?"

"It's not ideal," you offered, a small acknowledgment of the truth. "But he's my colonel, and I respect him. Can we leave it at that?"

Ghost sighed, and you felt his presence step up to your back rather than hear it. Uncanny, that's what he was. That was the reason your skin turned into goosebumps as he stood behind you, shrouded in darkness like an apparition rather than a fellow human being.

"Sure, darlin'. You can have me bed if you need to sleep for once. You know where to find me."

And then, as silently as he appeared, he was gone again, leaving you with that offer. Biting your lip, you hated how tempting it was. How secure it felt to put your trust in him. You knew better than that; knew he was on the opposite side of the spectrum of the horror you were living.

Ghost made it very clear that he wanted you, perhaps in the same way as König, just... carnally. König wanted his version of you, to be with you, to obsess over you, love you. Take care of you although you were perfectly able to do so yourself. The job was dangerous, sure, but in his version, you were a pitiful, debilitated thing to care for. One that needed him almost as much as he seemed to need you. But Ghost... he wanted more than that.

He wanted to win you over, wanted to mold and bend you as he pleased, wanted you feisty yet helpless to his demands. He wanted you screaming and crying, but he wanted you to come to him despite the eery promises of discomfort he emitted. There was more possessiveness in his eyes every time you saw him, more lust, more desire. Perhaps it was a form of love, too, but it was hard to understand either man obsessing with you.

"[Name]?"

Shit, the meeting.

"Y-Yeah?" you replied quickly, not wanting to be caught. König towered in front of you, his body blacking out the low-hanging lights he had to duck underneath.

"Who were you talking with? I saw your mouth move."

"N-No one, Colonel! I was repeating what I was learning."

"Oh... I see. Good. That's good."

You noticed his eyes prying away from you, scanning the area behind you briefly. "Let's go then. You didn't have your breakfast yet, did you?"

Lifting his arm behind your back, it hovered there. Not close enough to touch, even if you knew he was edging his fingertips over your shoulders, but it urged you forward in a gesture so natural, no one batted an eye. You sighed as you picked up a pace that König had very little problem keeping up with, but you knew that not all suspicions were quelled just with your verbal confirmation. He'd be even more careful and attentive—which was hard, considering he was overbearing on the good days.

And suddenly, Ghost's invitation felt very tempting again.

[solar4seekstron]

So I was thinking for a request if you can do TFA! Optimus x femme cybortron reader but for the episode where where everyone is suddenly human (don't know if you remember the episode where they became human) but I can imagine it's almost the same where everyone is confused, scared or freaking out but I can imagine Optimus immediately going to check on reader and him being awestruck by her cause even in human form she's still beautiful to him (I don't know you can change the idea a little bit but I just love that episode so much and want to see if you wanted to take a crack at it the episode is called human error part 1 if you don't know what I'm talking about)

Oh yeah that’s a goods episode!

TFA!Optimus Prime x Cybertronian!GN!Reader/human OP x Human Reader: Hoomans??!

TW/Tags: wholesomeness, Established relationship, I wish I was Y/N in this fic ngl 😭, Prowl is babygirl we all know it, I think that’s all?

At the beginning you and Optimus were taking a small drive together. Even as they made their way through the town Optimus wished to keep patrolling because of the Soundwaves toys. You stayed, it's him. You always want to keep close knowing how dangerous the city can be. Well at times.

The others back at the base try to convince him that everything is fine. You even agreed when you both transformed. Comforting him even as you both poked at the tv.

“Optimus please lets go back. I want to give you my christmas gift before the night ends.”

He’d then sigh. His breath seen by the cold air from the snow. “Sorry Sweetspark. I just…”

You gently held his cervo as he looked down at you. You had a soft smile on your dermas as your optics were soft and welcoming. “Come on. Let’s go.”

”Hm…maybe you’re….”

But as he was about to speak to him he chased after something. You followed and he said when he lost what he was looking for that it was after he got stuck and scared the other humans. Speaking about him as he finally got off and transformed. You doing the same and you both drove back to the base.

You and everyone else continue with your Christmas and drink the oil nog Sari made together. You then give Optimus his gift as he did the same with giving you his. He got you the polish you saw on tv thanks to saris help. You always want to look good for Optimus. As Optimus sees that he got a picture frame of the entire team talking to each other. Something Saris' father took some time ago due to your request.

You both loved the gifts and you both embraced each other as the other gave each other gifts as a present given to another the night before Christmas.

You sat on the couch next to Bee as you all kept drinking after Optimus decided to stand up. Eventually getting tired. You and the other bots make your way to bed.

Before you and OP when to bed you both exchanged a kiss. Saying goodnight to each other.

”Marry Christmas Optimus.”

”Marry Christmas Y/N.”

You both go to your own rooms. When Optimus Prime and his team woke up…him and the others being freaked out would be an understatement. Everyone ran out of their room.

As for you. You were too scared. You looked like an averaged sized woman. A little slim but pretty broad arms. Long brown hair and bright brown eyes. You were a few inches shorter than Optimus now. (I mean the man is tall). Ratchet does a check up on Optimus to see what’s wrong.

Optimus then got worried for Prowel and you. Prowel was already outside. While you stayed in your room scared of the others seeing you as a human. When they came , they were humans as well.

”Y/N! You're a human too!” He gently held you as your…Hands- gently gripped at his arms as you two stared at each other. “Optimus I can't believe it. What Happened?”

The others catch you up and you all make your way outside to Prowl. You all try to think of what is going on. Even freezing a bit before the cold weather. You then all make your way to Saris' place in hopes of any help. You held on to Optimus…hand…as you guys continued to walk. You all then realize you need to eat. Going to dinner. You sat next to bee since there was still enough room for you. Across from Optimus. As you looked at the food along with Optimus.

”Optimus, these….organic bodies…It makes me look so…..” You then felt his hand over your.

”No different to even now sweetspark. Even if human or a worm. You’re still the most beautiful living being in this world to me.” He kissed the back of your hand as Ratchet and Bee rolled their eyes and groan. Prowl is just doing his own thing.

You all then ran out only to see the decepticons start to attack. That fight wasn’t easy to deal with. After some time during the fight. You guys were able to find out this was all an illusion. As you all began to believe in yourself. You all turned into your robot form once more. You and Optimus looked at each other happy. And You hugged him.

”We’re back to ourselves!”

”Haha Yeah!”

You and the others' celebrations were short. Out of now where this giant…SOUNDWAVE??!! It just appeared out of nowhere. You guys were then stuck in it’s hand as you all struggled to get out. Until it disappeared and you all fell.

The prowl disappeared for a moment before returning. And then a white light appeared turning you all into humans once more.

”Optimus-“

”I know sweetspark. We’ll figure something out.” Bulkhead that started reading stuff. That’s when OPtimus got an idea. You all got in the cars you all transform into as you all then realize…..You don’t now how the outside of the cars work.

Eventually you all are released and have your minds back. Turns out you all were being controled. Sari was able to get you out of it.

”Sari. Goodness I’m sorry little one. Are you alright?”

”Yes yes! Now hold OP back!!” You saw Optimus had red optics. So you help her and reckgar with holding him back. But he was able to punch you to the side with ease. That little lier he was holding back at each training! Soon Optimus is back. But were still on the ground. Man he hit you hard. You gave a thumbs up as he carries on fighting Soundwave. Chuckling as you watched the fight.

Finally getting up as Optimus helped you with a smile. You stood next to Optimus as you all stood in front of the Christmas tree.

”A wise organic once said we should be thankful for the things we have.”

”Like family.” Sari said as she looked at her dad.

”Like family.” You and Optimus looked at each other with warm smiles. You laying your helm against his shoulder as you all looked at sari and her father after you all looked at each other.

You all then watch as Reckgar walks off dressed like Santa Claus. You all chuckled as you and Optimus held hands. It was certainly an..interesting Christmas.

This is another request I really enjoyed doing. Animated Optimus is so fun to write for and my god did they have to make him so cute in the series?! I love him too much I swear. I hope you guys enjoy this OneShot and continue to give me fun ideas for the animated series and hopefully others one day. Have a good rest of your day y’all!!

[weirdsht]

Heya!! Can I request a tcf x reader fic from where the reader is teenager and got teleported there? Somehow they can see the dreams of the future and knew about tcf novel while also being a full on simp for the main characters?(But also the thing that the young reader was someone who has been to various worlds and was in a loop, repeating things but without the memory of them doing so each time. They get glimpses ofcourse but it was just their past self trying to give out signals to not repeat any mistakes)

Definitions - Cale & Teen! Reader

notes: sorry anon i couldn't reflect all of your ideas because i found some of them hard to combine when i started writing. also this plot is better suited for a long fic/series but i don't have that time and energy huhu

tags: gender-neutral reader, mentions of death and dying (can be a little graphic but nothing too bad), teenager reader, nightmares

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome (for a limited time)

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“You should be more careful, this is uncharted territory.”

The look-a-like caressed your face softly as they spoke. Eyes filled with concern and uncertainty bore into you.

You may look alike but there’s something different about them.

Maybe it’s their mature aura. Perhaps it could be the tired look in their eyes. As though they have been suffering for eternity and want everything to end.

Whether they long for peace or eternal rest even you do not know.

“Still… this is a good opportunity and something we haven’t tried yet. Maybe you’ll be safer under his watch.”

“What do you mean by that? Who are you?”

You spoke for the first time since being transported in this weird abyss.

Being transmigrated into a novel like a lousy isekai protagonist was already confusing, but now you have to add weird dreams on top of that.

However, it beats trying to survive in that place you used to call home.

Between being endlessly confused and going back there… you’d choose the former any time of the day.

“I am you, well a part of you at least. As for what I mean… let’s just say this is for your own good.”

The supposed “you” paused briefly as they rested their hand on their chin. Probably thinking about how much they can disclose. Once they made up their mind their fingers caressed your head.

You may not know what’s happening, but you can tell they’re trying to provide comfort.

And it’s probably for the arduous path waiting beyond this dream.

“We’ve been through this many times, and each time you forget… I do not know if god has forsaken us or is playing a cruel joke…”

The look-a-like sighed before hugging you tightly. You meant to reciprocate, however, before you could raise your arms a sharp pain went through your neck.

“AGH! IT HURTS!”

It really does. It feels as though someone’s digging a knife through your neck, Trying to separate your head from your body.

When you manage to come back to your senses the other you are gone. The only thing left in the abyss is your and your throbbing neck.

…And wouldn’t you know, the moment you looked at your hands that were previously clutching your neck… all you could see was blood.

“-[me]”

“-[me]!”

“[Name]!”

“[Name] wake up!”

You jolt up as the familiar voice wakes you up from your dream. That’s right, you are currently under Cale Henituse’s wing after being transmigrated inside the novel you were reading. You have momentarily forgotten such a fact.

Clutching your throbbing neck, you tried to look at the redhead through your tears. Not that you are succeeding at the moment. However, you think you could see a slightly startled look on the young master’s usually calm face.

“Young master..?”

You asked, unsure of everything as your mind is still hazy. Still trying to get out of dreamland.

“You were screaming and crying in your sleep.”

Cale stated calmly as if he wasn’t panicking a minute ago. Still, his eyes roamed around you several times to double-check if there was anything wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The redhead asks as he gently wipes your tears and pry your hands away from your neck.

“I’m sorry young master. I don’t think I can for I don’t remember the contents of my dream… All I could remember was that there was a searing pain in my neck. It-it felt so real. As though I was in the middle of the battlefield and someone was sawing their sword back-and-forth on my neck…”

You tried to explain to the best of your abilities. You didn’t want to lie to the man that you considered your saviour.

Both when you were reading the novel and when you transmigrated.

In every form, fictional character or not, Cale Henituse has always been your saviour in one way or another. And thus you hold deep respect for the man.

“Don’t push yourself. Sometimes forgetting and never remembering is better than being reminded constantly.”

Ah, he must be referring to his record ability. A blessing and a curse indeed…

“Still, if you feel unwell or anything come to me. I took a kid like you in so I must take responsibility for you till the very end.”

Cale Henituse probably doesn’t know the impact of his words. Just how much you have longed to hear such things.

No, perhaps he does. Perhaps more than anyone, Kim Rok Soo has been the one longing to hear those words since he was a child.

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

With that, Cale stepped out for a moment to ask a servant to fetch a glass of warm milk. After doing so he returned to your side, sitting on the side of your bed. He looks unwilling to leave you, despite having three younger children waiting for him in his bedroom.

“Don’t hold back, have you seen me holding back from doing and saying whatever I want? You don’t have to push yourself to act like a grownup around me. I’m the adult, those things are for me to bear.”

Cale’s words suddenly found their way to your memory when you were about to urge him to go back to On, Hong, and Raon. That combined with the redhead’s determined gaze to not leave your side has you clamping your mouth shut.

Soon enough a maid delivered the glass of milk to your room and you drank it to your heart’s content. Then the morning after that you could feel the children averaging 7 years old sleeping beside you.

The weeks following that are peaceful. Well as peaceful as Cale’s life could get at least. Not that it says much since he has the tendency to meddle in things that will only jeopardize his slacker life.

Despite that, your days are looking better. After that night you didn’t seem to experience excruciating nightmares anymore. You also seemed to have opened up to the rest of the crew.

Perhaps that’s why Cale became complacent, causing him to lower his guard.

And perhaps that’s also why his face hardens 10x more than it would have weeks ago. His anger soars through the sky, reaching the gods even, as he hears the heartbroken sobs you utter on your lips after waking up from a nightmare.

“Am I such a bad child for the gods to do this to me? Have they forsaken me? What did I do that was so wrong that warrants this kind of suffering?”

You sobbed on the young’s master chest. You look so out of it. Eyes glazed over as if you’re not with Cale despite being in his embrace. You continued to wail, continued to curse the world for putting you in a type of pain that not even Cale can comprehend.

“I’m tired, I’m so tired. How many times has it been? I’ve tried my best… I always did, but I don’t know what the gods want.”

As you looked up at the ceiling, perhaps trying to directly ask the gods, Cale could finally clearly see your eyes.

They were filled with pain and suffering. Such young eyes carry the weight of the world.

It did not belong to the teen who was laughing and playing around with the kids and Choi Han.

It was still you, but it wasn’t the you that Cale is currently raising.

The meddlesome transmigrator couldn’t understand it himself, but he was sure of this feeling that he had about you.

Hence why when you finally passed out he immediately ordered someone to summon Cage and Saint Jack.

Cale Henituse might be a piece of trash but he always sees through his promises.

Even if he has to fight every god out there to fulfil it.

Because for Cale Henituse, that’s what it means to be a guardian.

[bloopitynoot]

Reading SVSSS: Bonus- Chapter 32

For those who don't know, I am reading SVSSS for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag bloopitynoot reads SVSSS. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read.

Yes it is 8 am and yes I am eating chicken gnocchi soup for breakfast. I stand that soup is and always will be a breakfast food.

No hot drinks today! This wedding required a feast :'3

I can't believe this is it! The series finale if you will.

I have been waiting 32 chapters for this moment. at last!!!

This man (SQQ) has been sleeping with this other man for what- months(?) years(?) at this point and he is STILL over here totally bewildered at the fact that LBH does not want to marry a woman. p355

This is kind of sweet though. I'm so glad Cang Qiong Mountain sect has embraced these two absolute weirdos. I love that they can visit now! It warms my romantic heart that they can travel for a while and then come "home" for a time. p355

omg these two are so embarrassing. The way in which LBH is asking him to marry him is so awkward. p359

oh no, now I feel like an asshole because LBH was SO NERVOUS the days leading up to him asking. (granted totally fair with how SQQ acts towards him/about their relationship- I too would not know if he wanted to actually marry me or not in this situation). I just want to pinch LBH's cheeks though, why is he so cute. p360

aaaaaah- this is so cute. SQQ being actually happy about him asking instead of trying to gaslight himself and side step his feelings or "reluctantly" agreeing to marry LBH pp360-361

my heaaaaaaaart LBH's confession pp362-363

The fact that LBH had wedding outfits ready. I need to know two things; 1. where/how did he get them and 2. how long has he had them and had this planned. p363

I truly don't know if MXTX has written a tender sex scene. Why does it always have to be a little traumatic? Granted I have only read SVSSS and MDZS BUT both of these series have either uncomfortable (SVSSS) or just have freak4freak energy (MDZS-but I will take this over crying and bleeding) there's never something soft and lubed. I hope that TGCH has something (no spoilers pls) but my bar is so low. (okay but wangxian was fine for the most part- they just were also dry and mutually unhinged). pp366-367

NO LOL the wife-ing of SQQ. p370

Okay okay- the ending was so sweet. The little shy embarrassed SQQ calling Binghe husband and him pretending not to hear. My headcanon is that eventually over time SQQ feels less and less embarrassed, works through his internalized homophobia, and learns to say what he actually feels more often. Even without my hopes and dreams, I still think this ending was such good character growth for SQQ.

Holy shit we did it!

Thank you to everyone who joined me on this reading journey. It has been so fun getting to read the books along with you and talk about the experience.

I am a little bit sad that it is over :'3

I do however, now have a pile of fanfic to start working through and am so stoked to continue this journey via fan works. Thank you, thank you to everyone who sent me fics to read!!

In terms of what is next- I will likely spend some time reading SVSSS fanfic- if I get to a point where like Wangxian, I have hundreds of fics in my collection, I may start recing Bingqiu!

BUT in terms of danmei, I am hoping to read TGCF next and round out my MXTX collection (likely end of December start)!

This has been such an amazing experience that I will continue to live blog future danmei series :)

Thank you thank you again!

[eternalera]

discussing project 2025 and how it will most likely NOT affect ao3

tw: p0rn mentions/discussion

ive seen some news in the past few days about something called project 2025 and how it could result in ao3 being taken down because theyre trying to limit pornography and theyre classifying the lgbtq (or trying to) as part of that content.

people are afraid that because of this ao3 might be taken down as a result but here's why it most likely won't and you don't need to worry to much (but should still be cautious just in case). from my reading of the situation theyre mainly focusing on porn sites, porn hub and things like that. theyre started making it so that you have to enter in your drivers ID to prove that you are above the age of 18 so that kids and stuff dont have access to this content.

of course that itself is going to take a while because its a whole damn website, its not just in the US but it's international in itself. the programming and passing the bill will take an extremely long amount of time.

but this bill (or whatever) also violates things such as freedom of speech. writing is a form of speech and you are allowed to write about whatever the hell you want and no one is able to take that away, whether it be online or in real life and believe it or not writing gay fanfiction is a form of speech. especially if youre creating healthy gay relationships and promoting lgbtq content. the government cant just take that away because they classify it as 'porn' when its clearly not.

thats called censorship, limiting what you see so that they can control what you get fed in media and stuff like that. but not only that but if they were to do this then it would also affect sites like twitter, facebook, discord, pinterest, tumblr, literally ANY website where you can make ANY statement this would affect.

and no one is going through with that lets be honest for a second. because at that point its just controlling the internet and whats put out and what isnt. and no one can do that, at least not in america because guess what? YOU HAVE RIGHTS. and i can NOT stress this enough.

the government is NOT allowed to control what media you get fed and what you create. in fact that cant even reasonably define lgbtq stuff as porn because guess what? it wont work. people will riot, they will find a way, and yknow why? BECAUSE ITS NOT PORN.

then again you must be wondering about the explicit fics on ao3 and to that i say what about the explicit stuff on twitter? the bots on tumblr? hell even youtube.

the government cannot control all of this.

and if they were to even try i guarantee that the silly little website known as ao3 will be one of the first not even top five things that they try to target.

they'll target pornhub, youtube, twitter, literally ANYTHING before they get to ao3. and even if they do im more than certain that ao3 will lawyer up and put together a case about why they should stay in tact.

ACTUALLY if they try doing this in the slightest about ANY website that site is likely to fight back.

so while you should stay cautious i dont think any major panic is necessary. in order to take down ao3 the freedom of speech would need to be taken away in an amendment and that is not happening.

so basically, stay cautious but dont be too worried. and if ao3 does get taken down (which it most likely wont) there will probably be a set date where you can download and save everything before then

[hiskillingjar]

pretty rave girl

Relationship: Ren Hana/MC Rating: Explicit Includes: Dubious Consent, Coerced Consent, Date Rape, Drugging, Intoxication, Hypnotism (sort of), Anime Conventions Length: 6200+ words

an rehash and extension of my hypnotism kinktober fic, very kindly requested by @frawgsie! thank you so much for your support <3

if you'd like a commission of your own, feel free to check out my post and shoot me a message!

Part One

"Can I get a Monster, please?"

"Original, Ultra White, or-"

"Pipeline Punch, obviously!” You said with an exaggerated ‘ugh!’, flicking the plastic fibres of your wig out of your eyes, heavily made up and caked in pink glitter. “Is there any other?"

The girl behind the bar rolled her eyes, probably wishing she was also partying in the ball room instead of serving you. She turned away, fetching a tall pink can from the set of fridges behind her, readily stocked for the messy nerds the hotel was reluctantly hosting over the convention weekend.

"You're such a bitch." 

Ren giggled, a little tipsy in his own right, as he pressed to your side, lolling and lazing against your shoulder. His chest hit your sweaty back, skin sticking to the thin material of his shirt, and his tail swayed cool air against your thighs as it wagged. 

"She was just asking you a question. No need to bite her head off."

"Come on, it's a dumb question!” You said, eyes flitting towards him as the girl cracked open the can and slid it towards you (lest you try and sneak anything closed into the ballroom). “How can you look at me,” You gestured downwards at the tacky Chibi Moon cosplay you were wearing, thigh highs, a short skirt and a bikini sporting a comically large bow between the cups. “And think I'll ask for anything but Pipeline Punch?"

"You have no taste.” He continued to giggle, snaking his arms around your waist and nuzzling into the fibres of your pink pigtails.“Ultra White is peak."

"Maybe if you have an eating disorder," You rolled your eyes, paying the exorbitant five dollars for the can with a tap of your phone. "Something you wanna tell me, Ren?~"

“Shut up,” He rebuked with an irked huff, a small growl escaping his throat as he squeezed you around the waist, pressing you flush against the line of his slender body and nipping at your pierced earlobe, a quasi-punishment for being ‘such a bitch’. “And drink your Monster, before you piss me off.”

"Mm, not so close,” You complained with a lip-gloss lacquered pout, taking a long initial sip from the can and smacking your lips. “It's so hot in there. I swear, I can feel sweat dripping down my crack-"

“Well, let’s stop wasting time already,” He cut you off with an exaggerated sigh, taking your free hand and dragging you towards the double doors of the hotel ballroom. “I don’t wanna miss anything good!”

"Okay, okay!" You laughed in spite of yourself, taking another swig from your can, the fruity chemicals bubbling over your tongue and satisfying your thirst, before you thrust it towards him. "Can you hold this for a second? I need to adjust my bra."

"Oh, so you're calling those two triangles a bra now?" He said with a good-natured eye roll, as you turned around and adjusted the strings of your bikini top, tightening them slightly and breathing in as they cut into the soft flesh of your chest, pushing your breasts together (and making them look fucking awesome, thank you very much). “You’re so high maintenance, I swear.”

"Now who's the bitch!" You said with an exaggerated gasp before grinning, leaning in to kiss his cheek (leaving behind a pink lip gloss print) and take your can back. "Thank youuuu~"

"Pff," He rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t hold back a dumb smile, his hand reaching for yours once more as he pulled you back inside the crowded ballroom, the pounding music instantly loud and throbbing through every inch of your body as soon as you stepped inside, like you could feel it in your bones. "You're such a tease, y'know that?"

"I don't think you can call me a tease when you're gonna get laid at the end of the night." You commented with a cattish smirk, following behind him obediently.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, you slut~" Ren said with a mischievous smirk, his ears tilting forward with a shake of his head.

He led you through the sea of dancing people and closer towards the front of the ballroom, where a DJ (donned with a neon green furry wolf head that you guessed was probably drenched in sweat) was spinning the tracks for the night, all while a matching set of monitors were projecting visuals for the set; sped-up anime openings, well-cropped hentai and constant, flashing lights.

It made the rave's energy feel much more manic, and you loved it.

You were grinning like an idiot by the time the two of you got to the front, squeezed tight between the other dancers (some couples, some groups, some going solo), soaking up the atmosphere like a sponge, and your body was already moving in time with the music, your hips swaying, your chest bouncing and your shoulders bobbing up and down.

Ren turned to look at you, his amber eyes lecherously raking over your body from top to bottom, admiring the cheap cosplay that barely covered you, a clear lust behind his gaze. 

Not like you minded. You knew you were hot, and his validation just made you feel hotter.

"God, you look good tonight," He said loudly over the music, matching your dance moves the best he could (without a bouncing chest).

You somehow smiled even more and stroked down the length of your pigtails, before tossing them over your shoulder, your eyes half-lidded and a seductive pout on your lips.

"How good do I look, hm?" You crooned, pressing closer to him so he could hear you.

"Good enough for me to want to fuck you on the dance floor." He admitted with a brazen, fanged grin, closing the space between the two of you, his hot body pressed against yours, making it all too easy for him to roll his hips against your own, in time with the pounding bassline.

You could feel how hard he was through his jeans. 

Already. You had barely done a thing and you were already driving him crazy.

He was so fucking easy.

"You're such a nerd," You laughed, but you didn't stop yourself from pressing against him too, the back of your skirt riding up high as he slotted his groin against your backside, his hands bracketing your full hips and holding on tightly. "Seriously? I just gotta dress like an anime girl to get you going?"

"What can I say?" He hummed airily, his hands wandering up and down your thighs and groping your ass through the thin fabric of the cosplay. “I’m very weak against a very specific type of girl. It’s not my fault you fit it perfectly.”

You bit your lip to hide another big, dumb smile, feeling his hand slide higher up your skirt and toy with the elastic hem of your bicycle shorts (you had to retain some modesty, after all), like he was threatening to pull them down, and really fuck you, right there on the dancefloor, in front of everyone.

The very idea of that made you feel lightheaded.

Or was it something else? 

"Fuck, it's so hot in here," You breathed out and stood up straight after the song finished, feeling a bead of sweat run down your inner thighs and make the spandex shorts start to chafe painfully against your skin. You sighed and took another swig of Monster, before pushing your wrist against your forehead, wiping up more sweat with a grimace. “I think I might actually have to go outside, it’s a little too much.”

Instead of pulling you out of the ballroom to get some air (which you wouldn’t have expected from him anyway), Ren reached around and grabbed your wrist, tight, before guiding your hand upwards, the cool metal of the Monster can pressed back against your gasping lips. 

"You don’t need to do that. Just finish your drink, baby," He ordered softly (in a tone you knew you couldn’t argue with), hooking his chin over your shoulder and tracing his soft lips over your ear, whispering sweet words under the pounding music. "It'll help you cool down, won’t it?"

"Mmf-!" 

You spluttered in muffled (if slightly coerced) agreement as the drink hit your lips again and filled your mouth, the overwhelming sweetness making your brain pound (an after-effect of the caffeine and nothing else, surely, you had barely drank anything that night), more than the music had, more than the flashing lights and swirling colours had.

Sticky pink fluid ran down your chin as he poured more down your throat, too fast for you to swallow, and trickled over your chest, soaking into the costume.

When you glanced down (as much as you could, as much as he let you), you saw your nipples (gradually hardening to firm little buds) slowly becoming visible under the wet fabric, dusky pink beneath the soaked, white polyester, and it made something inside you throb painfully.

"Oh, look at you," Ren tutted condescendingly as he looked down at your body, keening forward so his tongue could run over the side of your chin to collect the droplets of sticky Monster. His eyes were smouldering as his free hand then pulled your hips against his once more, pushing your skirt up completely. "Such a mess. You just always need me to take care of you, don’t you?"

Hhhhh…" 

You breathed out unsteadily through your nose, heavy eyes blinking slowly (dumbly), as he poured another mouthful of energy drink down your throat, your head spinning even more. 

The crowd of bodies around you were packed in so tight, the small ballroom hot and humid (stinking of weeaboo sweat and fruity-scented vape smoke), and filled to the brim with the manic energy of a thousand nerds on their first night out, hopped up on Monster Energy and vodka, listening to nightcore remixes of their favourite anime. 

It was an infectious energy that made your heavy head pound even more.

And you didn't know if it was the caffeine and the sugar from the drink, or if it was the pounding music and flashing lights, or if it was something else entirely making you feel so...strange all of a sudden, but you knew you liked it, whatever it was.

"Oh, fuck," 

You breathed out as a new song started playing, speakers practically throbbing with droning sirens, drawled vocals and pounding bass. This was all while the twin monitors played sensorily overwhelming visuals, flashing lights, swirling spirals (pink and purple, blurred text overlaying it), half-naked anime girls and candy-sweet gore, fake blood tinged almost pink and making your mouth water. 

"This song is...really fucking good..."

"Oh yeah?" Ren chuckled, watching the way your chest heaved as he pulled the pink can away from your lips, the sugar-sweet liquid staining your chin and pooling in the valley of your heaving breasts, almost glistening against your pale skin under the harsh lights of the room. "Maybe you should...pay attention to it, hm? If it's that good~"

You barely managed to slur a meek "okay" as he pressed his free hand between your shoulder blades, suddenly forcing your chest forward and bending your body in two, before pressing his hips squarely against your backside. His hand then curled into your ‘hair’ (the shitty wig, sliding atop your head and showing off some of your real hair) and pushed your head forward, so your eyes would focus on nothing but the flashing lights and visuals on screen, and he could keep you still and stimulated.

"That's a good girl," He said as the lower half of your body moved to the beat of the music, swaying and jerking against his crotch. "Just focus on the beat. That’s it."

Your hazy eyes locked forward, almost (entirely) involuntarily (though maybe there was something a little hot about that), widening slightly as the lights sped up to match the sped-up beats-per-minute, black and white imprinted on your lids and blurring your vision.

The rest of the clubgoers blurred, too, into a muddy and abject sea of multicoloured wigs, cheap AliExpress cosplay and fursuits. 

None of them mattered. Nobody mattered here.

All that mattered were those monitors, now showing censored hentai and those overlays of pink and purple spirals, making your heart pound and your brain throb in your skull.

What little brain you still had.

Ren pressed closer to you, arching his body over your bent back, the solid weight of his body an anchor against the increasingly dizzying effect of the music and the lights.

“Y’know, you really do look good tonight, baby…”

"Heh," You laughed, breathing out unsteadily as you tried to stand up straight again. He kept you still with the hand in your hair, claws threateningly digging into your scalp (if you got any blood on this wig, you’d kill him). "Hehehe…mm…” Your hair lolled forward even more. “My head feels funny, Ren~"

Your voice was soft, sweet, almost simpering, nowhere close to the ‘bitchy tone’ he occasionally took issue with.

“Oh yeah?” He asked, a hidden smirk playing on his lips as he took in your dazed expression and the needy look in your eyes, pulling your hips closer to his crotch, so you could feel the stirrings of his arousal against the ‘gusset’ of your bike shorts. "That's reeeeally interesting, sweetheart..."

"Hhhhehehe, did you druuug me?" You laughed again as he pushed you forward, the small if persisting amount of fear barely audible in your voice over the pounding music.

"Now, why would I do something like that, hm?" He asked, his tone almost innocent, the cock to his head and the smirk on his voice audible through his facade of guiltlessness.

"I...don't know," You breathed out, licking your lips again to quell your nervousness and tasting the overwhelming sweetness of the Monster and the aftertaste of something…chalky. "I just feel so hot...and...hahhh...l-like I can’t even keep my head up. Heh," A shaky smile came to your face as you panted a little more. “I think you put something in my drink…”

"Aw, I don’t think so, baby. I think you might just be overheating…don’t you?" He asked with feigned sympathy and ignorance at your accusation, his hands then wandering across the planes of your body, the tips of his fingers trailing over the sweat-sticky bare skin of your back, your hips, your thighs. "Oh, you really do feel hot! Ah, I thought you were exaggerating! You poor thing."

"Hhhh," 

You wheezed uselessly as he pulled your shoulders upwards and trotted to your front, a little dribble of pink-tinged spittle running down your sticky chin. The music felt like it was only getting louder, though, despite him pushing you back, away from the heaving crowds of people (who were only getting more excited) and towards the corner of the ballroom.

Ren just chuckled at the sight of you, as you pressed your back against the cool metal wall of the ballroom, sliding downwards slightly, barely able to keep yourself upright.

 "God, you're pathetic," He laughed in your ear as his chest pressed against yours, your face flushed from the heat and the drugged drink, your lax body swaying to beats and lights, even when you were pinned to the wall. "You look so out of it, baby."

"Heh heh," You giggled brainlessly, trying to shut your mouth. You couldn’t stop drooling. "I...y-yeah...I guess I am."

"Yeahhhh, you're just a mess, aren’t you?" He continued to tease cruelly, his hands roaming your sides, your hips, again, thumbs hooking over the waistband of your bike shorts, threatening to pull them down completely. "But you love it, don't you? Feeling all brainless and all dizzy and needy. I bet you’re addicted to it, like you’re addicted to those fucking energy drinks~"

You couldn't say anything, your brain was only able to focus on those fucking flashing lights and the fucking pounding music, and how fucking good it was making you feel.

You had a sense that it wasn’t just sweat and Monster making you feel so wet.

"You're such a good girl, baby," He then said, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, his tongue running down to your exposed collar, tasting salt and sweet on your skin as his lips reached the sticky valley of Monster between your breasts. "And good girls get rewards, don't they?” He pulled back and eyed you with a fanged smile. “You want a reward, don't you, baby?"

"Mm," You moaned mindlessly, nodding in time with the music.

"Good girl, asking for what you want," He growled in satisfaction, his tongue tracing back up the side of your neck and to your ear as he pulled you closer. "I think you're going to enjoy it, too~"

Your hazy mind didn't catch his hand going into the pocket of his jeans (he hadn’t even dressed up, not like you had, you always made such a fucking effort to impress him), but you knew immediately what he had done when you felt a familiar device buzz to life inside your panties.

"OH!"

You had forgotten about the bullet when you got dressed that morning. 

Have you been walking around with a sex toy in your underwear all day, even when you were at the convention?

The idea of it made your cunt twinge a little.

Well, a little more.

"Mmm," Ren hummed happily, the vibrations rocking through your body to the beat of the music (it must have had a special sensor built-in or something, how much had this cost him?), just making your brain slur even more as the bass pounded on and on. "You are a naughty girl, aren’t you? Letting me do something like this to you in public?"

"I-I didn't...ohhhh~" You moaned helplessly, tipping your head back against the wall as your thighs clenched together tightly, trying to contain all the pleasure within yourself. 

Your eyes stayed open, though, half-lidded and staring ahead at those pink graphics.

"But you don't hate it, do you?" He asked, nipping at your ear, tugging at the hoop through it and pressing his fingers against the front of your shorts, forcing the small device a little harder against you, right where it needed to be. "It feels good, doesn't it?  And you look so hot like this, baby, all needy and mindless. Everyone here is going to know you're my girl and be so jealous."

Of course, you didn’t hate this.

Your full lips were slack and drooling a sticky mix of spit and energy drink down your chin and making your nipples show through your shitty costume. Your eyes were locked ahead, practically pinned in place, and your entire body was positively thrumming with pleasure, both from the vibrator in your panties and the enthralling trance you’d be put under, both only made worse by a sped-up and bass-boosted version of the Ouran High School Host Club theme song.

How could you possibly hate even a moment of this?

Hate wasn't an option you could choose, anymore. 

Just gleeful happiness.

"That's what I thought," Ren praised your non-answer with a triumphant smile, his lips trailing back to the crook of your neck and sucking at the skin, leaving a small mark (which you barely reacted to, you were so gone) before his voice dropped even lower in your ear. "And you're going to stay like this for me, all needy and pretty, all night, until everyone here can see just how filthy my baby is for me, aren't you?"

"Yessss," You drawled out with another mindless moan, the vibrator in your panties building in intensity as the droning bridge dropped and the bass began to pound. "God, yes..."

"Suuuuch a good girl," He whispered, his fangs finding the edge of your ear and biting down hungrily, his chest rising and falling against your front in time with the beat. Maybe this was exciting him as much as it was exciting you. "I want you to look at the stage, baby. I want you to watch what's on the screen for me."

You hadn’t looked away all this time, but found all the more reason not to when he was ordering you around like this.

"You don't need anything, do you, baby? You don't need to think or worry about anything, hm?" He murmured, his soft voice somehow permeating each rise and fall of the music. "All you need is to focus on is how good the music feels, how good I make you feel, and how desperately you want more…”

"Y-Yeah," You murmured softly, your hazy eyes half-lidded again as your lips went slack with another desperate wheeze of breath. "Hhhh..."

“And only good girls get to feel like this, don’t they?" He then asked, somehow turning up the bullet another notch and listening to you moan, pink spirals reflected in your glassy, doll-like eyes. “Only good girls get to feel this happy and free.”

"I'm a good girl," You smiled brainlessly, your head tilting back. "Ngh, I’m a good girl..."

"That's right," He whispered with a proud smile, nuzzling against you, the soft whisps of his hair and fur of his ears damp with sweat. "You're my good girl. Soooo, you're going to keep dancing for me, all mindless and dumb, so that everyone here knows you’re mine, and there’s nothing they can do about it. Sound good?”

"Uh huh~" 

“So pathetic. Hmm, no wonder I like you so much~”

Part Two

"Thank you so much for your help!" 

The elevator doors slid open with a low ‘ding’.

You looked up in silent alarm with an exhausted murmur, drunken and dazed and still drooling down your front, your gaze switching from one arm, which Ren had thrown over his shoulder, and the other, where a random guy (in a pretty decent Leon Kennedy cosplay) was supporting you, helping the younger man carry your slack body back up to your hotel room.

He couldn’t have done it himself, after all.

"Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do to help?” He asked, scraping the fibres of his blonde wig from his eyes. “She looks pretty out of it, man."

"Yeah, totally,” Ren smiled, his tail wagging behind you as he held onto you a little tighter, his other arm slung around your waist, protectively, possessively holding you against his smaller body, like the good boyfriend he was trying to be. “She's just a little drunk after the rave, is all. She’ll be totally fine after I’ve gotten her to lie down. Isn’t that right, sweetie?" 

He squeezed your hip hard, making you groan and lean into him a little more, playing the perfect role of a drunken girlfriend (reacting to his squeezes like a toy would). 

"You know how it is,” He added with an appreciative smile towards the stranger. “Her first con, getting excited and all..."

"Oh yeah, for sure.” ‘Leon’ nodded empathetically, following Ren as they both dragged you down the hall and towards your room. “My boyfriend is the same, totally..."

After a few more moments of polite chatter and you stumbling along with them, (the vibrator thankfully at rest in your panties, you wouldn’t have been able to walk if it was still going like it was), Ren reluctantly let go of your waist for a second to retrieve the room’s key card from his jean pocket.

"This is us!” He said, producing the card and holding you tighter. “Thanks again for your help."

"For sure.” ‘Leon’ smiled as Ren tapped the key to the door and opened it up, helping you through the door frame with a sheepishness in his posture (possibly cluing into the dynamic between the two of you, who knew). “Um, have a good rest of your night. And, uh,” He smiled again, a little awkwardly, and gestured to the space above his head. “Love your ears by the way. Super realistic!"

Ren’s tail swayed a little more as he waved the guy off happily.

"You too! Enjoy the rave!"

‘Leon’ left you to it and Ren waited patiently until he had walked down the corridor, back to the elevator, before he shut the door behind the two of you. He took your shoulder in hand and jerked you towards the hotel’s bed with an authoritative kind of promptness, like he couldn’t wait to do…whatever he had planned next.

"Makes you feel good, doesn't it?” He asked, his voice airy and casual, as you slumped on the edge of the bed with a tired moan. “Someone helping like that. People are so nice."

"Mmh..." You nodded lazily in agreement, trying to keep your head up.

Ren just chuckled watching you try to stay alert (stay guarded from whatever he had planned) and started to pace around the room, his arms crossed as he assessed the bags and boxes of figures, plushies, art prints, and…well, whatever else you saw in the convention centre that attracted your attention.

You had so little of your own. Could you be blamed for going a little ham with this stuff?

"You really spent a lot of my money, didn't you, sweetie?” He asked, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head, as if he was scolding you for something. “I think you brought half the artist alley back up here! Mm, that's okay, though.” He smiled, a subdued sort of cruelty touching his eyes and making you shiver, his tail continuing to sway. “I have a sense that you're gonna make it up to me."

“Ren,” You murmured softly as he approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a swift shove backwards, your back hitting the overstuffed mattress and stained blankets with a quiet ‘oof’. “I-I don’t feel so good…can we take it slow tonight? Please?”

“I don’t think so,” Ren crooned lowly with an indulgent smirk, moving his knee between your legs and pushing them apart, your skirt having completely ridden up and your bike shorts concealing next to nothing."God, this outfit really is hot.” He said, leaning over you then, his hands bracketing your full hips. “I'm sorry my costume didn't come in time, we would have looked so cool matching tonight…"

"What did you give me?" You slurred, letting out an unsteady breath as he reached up your skirt and pulled down your shorts, past your thigh highs and boots, and tossed them to the side. “Ren, seriously…hh, my head is fucking killing me…”

“Hm?” He looked up, his ears moving forward in alarm, before he tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "What’s that? Are you coming down, baby?” He grinned at your sudden discomfort, exposing wet fangs and eyes gleaming with malice. “Aw, don't worry, I have some more where that came from."

“More of what?” You asked, making an attempt to sit up on the bed.

He ignored your question and quickly stepped away from you then, pacing back across the hotel room to fetch another tall can of Monster from the television stand (adorned with make-up products and discarded underwear from the previous night).

 "See, it’s even in your favourite flavour~" Ren teased with another grin, cracking open the can and kneeling back on the bed, looming over you, as he shoved you back down. “Open wide!”

“MMH-!”

He poured out the first spill of Monster liberally, covering your flushed face and heaving chest with the sticky, carbonated liquid all over again, and making the blankets beneath your slack body sodden and very cold.

"You really are addicted to this stuff, aren’t you? I should just keep you fed on this…” He mused with a dirty, little titter, before reaching forward and taking your cheeks in hand, squeezing them together and forcing your mouth open in a demeaning pout. “I could just pour it into a dog bowl and leave it out for you all day.” 

He poured out another spill of it, and you had to open your mouth wide (as much as you could in his grip) to catch the majority of it, lest you be covered in even more.

“Wffh,” You breathed out a spray of the sticky fluid, covering your chin as you tried to shake your head out of his grip. “What did you give me…hhh…”

He sat himself down on your thighs then, balancing the can on your heaving chest, nestled between your sticky breasts, dusky nipples hard from the cold fluid and pressed, pornographically tight, against your bikini top.

"It's kind of funny that you're so clueless about it, you know.” He said, reaching to his back pocket and producing a plastic baggie of white powder. “Didn't you ever get a DARE class about date rape drugs, when you were still in school?” He drew his words deliberately slow as he opened the baggie, carefully pouring a small amount of the powder into the can, making it fizz and overflow across your stomach. 

He tilted his head condescendingly as he tucked the baggie away, and took hold of your face again, claws digging into your sticky skin. 

"Or did you get one, and you were too much of a dumb idiot to pay attention to it, hm?"

You swallowed another mouthful of energy drink as it poured onto your face again, the chalky aftertaste familiar from when he had drugged you before, back at the rave.

Ketamine. 

Fuck, you always had bad reactions to ketamine.

"I mean, I know they call them date rape drugs and all. But..." Ren shrugged as he poured another mouthful of the tainted Monster into your mouth, not caring when you spluttered and choked on it. "I think that sort of suggests that you're not desperate for it. When I know you totally are!" 

He licked his lips hungrily, watching as you sucked in a hard breath, just trying to breathe while you were waterboarded with fucking Monster Energy. 

"Maybe they should just call them 'date' drugs, hm? Cus they make you all...loose and ready for it, right?"

He set the half-finished can on the bedside table and pushed himself back, completely between your legs, before pressing the persisting bulge in his jeans (little pervert that he was, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been hard all this time) against the front of your panties, seeing just how wet you had gotten from his teasing back at the rave.

"Rennn..." You whined needily through a wet splutter of energy drink, raising your hips with shaky calves to meet his needy thrusts. “Gh, please-”

"Shhh, I'm right here, baby." He cooed, pulling himself back enough so he could pull the sides of your panties down your legs and enjoy you bare and vulnerable underneath him. "Mm, look at you, all wet and needy for me.” He murmured with another indulgent smirk. “Well, I guess I have an advantage in that sense, don't I?"

"NHH!"

The bullet inside of you (because it had been pushed against enough to slide in there) buzzed to life again.

When had he even gotten his phone out?

You whined loudly the second it started buzzing again, breathing hard as you squeezed your eyes shut, hips tilting upwards just trying to find even more of the sinful vibrations.

"I reeeally thought you were gonna cum down there, you know. When we were in the rave.” Ren smirked, sitting up on his knees and unbuckling his belt with dextrous hands. “Or in the elevator, in front of that strange guy.” He then reached down to unzip and unbutton his jeans, shifting forward again to rub against your buzzing opening again, his tail wagging as the vibrations clearly had an effect on him too. “Heh, I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

“Mmm…ah,” You breathed out, shivering with pleasure as his hand slid up your (sticky) stomach and to your damp bikini top, teasing your nipple through the wet fabric.

"Like how you like showing off in your slutty, little bikini.” He breathed out with a little chuckle. “I'm not mad…mmh," He shifted down his boxers then, pushing your thighs open even more and giving himself a bigger space to slot his cock into. "The exact opposite, actually. It's really, reeeally hot how much you enjoy being a huge slut. Most girls don't have your sense, you know~"

You took in another sharp inhale when you felt the head of his cock rub against your cunt, teasing, threatening you with more.

"Nhhh…” You squeezed your eyes shut, your arms laying slack at your side as the drug pulsed through your veins again, just making your head spin even more. “No, no…”

“Don’t say no to me, baby. I know you don’t really mean it, after all.” He chided lightly,  the claws of his free hand digging into your thigh as he tried to push himself closer, push himself inside of you. "You know, I don't think girls like you can even get raped,” He added with another airy, aroused titter. “Mm, at least not by guys like me."

"AH!" You gasped, your eyes shooting wide and your head absolutely swimming with drugged lust as he pushed deeper into you, the length of his hard cock filling you up completely and the initial swellings of his knot pressed against your slit, wet and open and hungry. “Oh, fuck, Ren-!”

"God, you're so wet, already,” He breathed out, shoving himself closer towards you, building up an initial momentum of pounding thrusts as his chest heaved in time with each of your whines and whimpers. “I barely have any friction at all. I can just..."

You grit your teeth, eyes squeezing shut again as he pushed deeper inside of you.

"Slide in, knot first.” He grinned, half delirious with his own pleasure, a string of drool clinging to his wet teeth and dripping across your chest, breasts bouncing each time he thrust deeper inside of you, looking all the more pornographic and ridiculous. “Haha, I bet you won't even be able to cling onto my knot like this, you know. You're just so wound up and wet~"

He slapped your hip sharply, seeking some kind of physical reaction, and making you shriek and tighten up around him.

Or, well, attempt to tighten up. 

You were sort of too far gone to try doing that now.

"Fuck, why is even that getting me hot?” He breathed out, his heavy body sinking down against yours to pin you against the bed, rutting harder against you, each wet slap of flesh against flesh pushing you that much closer to your limit (whatever that limit was, you weren’t so sure anymore). “You really bring out the worst in me, baby."

“Ohhh,” You moaned loudly, unable to hold anything back with so many drugs in your system, the concoction of caffeine and ketamine (and a little booze) making you feel that much more disorientated and totally out of it. “Ren, Ren, Ren!”

“I’m right here, shhh, I’m here just for you,” He murmured, nestling close to you, his sharp cannibal teeth against your sticky neck and his tongue drawing wet lines up your skin. “I mean, hah,” He breathed hard, scenting you, intimate and sweet, contradicting his harsher actions. “I was already pretty bad. But ohhh, you just make me want to be even worse…mm,” 

You felt the cold press of his teeth against your neck, and your pelvis tightened even more.

“But I don’t need to be.” Ren pulled back from the bite, smoothing his tongue over the sore flesh (as if he was apologising for it, something he would never do with words alone) as his hips drived harder and faster against yours, pushing you into a state of quasi delirium that felt just so good. “You’re just suuuuch a gooood girl, so I don’t need to force you to do anything at all, do I? …mmmh~”

“Hah-hah-hah,” You breathed out, wrapping an arm around his neck as you felt his touch descend to the soft folds of your pelvis, trying to push you open and give himself enough space to work his knot into. “T-Too much, ngh-!”

“See, you’re saying that…” He breathed out with an unsteady exhale, pulling back enough to look you in the eye, a broad, dirty grin on his face as his thrusting resumed, never pausing for even a second of respite. “But I’m hearing that I should do more. You just like to challenge me so much, don’t you?”

You suddenly cried out as he pressed into you completely, working his knot all the way inside of your cunt, his forehead pressed to yours as you grit your teeth from the painful stretch.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He praised you with another long exhale, smiling down at you, serenely, like you were doing something truly worthy of pride. “Just like that. Fuck, you’re clenching so hard,” His eyelids fluttered (the same as yours always did) as you tightened up around him, again, only forcing him to try and thrust deeper, push his knot even more inside of you. “That’s so good, baby, so good-!”

“Oh, Ren, Ren, fuck!” You cried out, digging your nails into his shoulders. “Yes, yes!”

“Yesss, you’re so good, you like that so much, don’t you?”

“I LOVE IT!!!”

[millieisawriter]

Fishing date

kieran duffy x reader

summary: you didn't know what made you agree to go fishing with kieran, you didn't even like it. but maybe in this case fishing wasn't that important.

wc: 1.9k

all pics are from pinterest

♡this could be a standalone or a 2nd part to this fic ♡

It was safe to say you didn't know shit about fishing. Having basically grown up in the gang, throughout the years you had Arthur take you and John on fishing trips, except it didn't seem like he knew what he was doing either.

It seemed easy enough, right? Just sit by the water, rod in hand, waiting for a fish to catch the bait. But to you it was so boring. Even as a kid, you were already impossible to get to sit in one place for too long. The day your fishing rod snapped in half was a blessing, because now you had an excuse to not go. Arthur didn't mind either, he preferred taking you on more adventurous trips anyway, like hunting.

And nothing has changed by now. Even as a grown woman, you still held a certain dislike for fishing. Yet there you were, riding beside Kieran on your way to a good fishing spot that he had picked out.

Kieran was practically grinning from ear to ear, the shyness slowly disappearing the further from the camp you were. Eventually, you reached a creek, and dismounted from your horses.

"You're so quiet." You said.

The ride to the fishing spot was, indeed, quiet. This was something you expected from Kieran, however maybe not when this was supposed to be a date. Unless the girls misunderstood his intentions, and now it was actually going to be a very awkward fishing trip.

"Y-you know me," Kieran muttered, "all quiet and… all that."

And Kieran was silently cursing himself in his head for not being able to come up with any conversation. The furthest his planning went was asking you to go fishing, he didn't think about what he'd do if you agreed.

You couldn't help teasing him a bit. "All quiet and skittish, like a rabbit."

"Can you blame me? Every day I have people telling me I should've been killed off."

"Can't say I don't see why you spend most of the time with horses."

"Especially Arthur, can you believe how ungrateful he is? I- I saved his life, and most he can tell me is we're equal because he saves my life everyday he doesn't kill me."

"That's just Arthur," you chuckled as you took out a cigarette, while Kieran was preparing his fishing rod, "he doesn't mean it, trust me." You needed the cigarette to not just awkwardly stand next to Kieran when he fishes.

"It's just a lot sometimes," the man continued as he casted the fishing rod, "even the Adler woman keeps reminding me I don't belong here. I didn't know a woman could be so mean. The things she said to me, even you would be surprised."

"Even I?" You questioned, rising an eyebrow, but not in an annoyed manner. You were rather amused, and glad you got Kieran talking.

He even managed not to stutter. Maybe getting out of the camp filled him with some newfound confidence. "What I mean is… well, I guess you're just… picky with who you're being nice to. Just like your mare."

"And now I'm picky like a horse, you sure do know how to make a girl feel special." It was all a joke, you took no offense in Kieran's words, but you liked how nervous he got thinking he said something wrong.

"No, I just— I meant that, uh, you don't let just anybody get close to you."

"You ain't wrong, Kieran."

You were guarded, and you knew that. It was a choice. Even if you secretly wished to discover what it feels like to be truly loved, and to truly love someone, there wasn't much you could do.

Living constantly on the move meant that anything long term was off the table. You could leave the gang, theoretically, but you didn't want to, so you didn't ever consider it. Lastly, in case of desperation, you could always go for a man from the gang, but you weren't desperate.

And then, there was Kieran. As if some higher power had placed him in your life for a reason.

Kieran was quiet for a moment, watching his line in the water. Then he looked over at you, his eyes reflecting some kind of confidence you didn't expect. "I'm glad you came out here with me. I… I didn't think you'd say yes, to be honest."

"Well, at first I said no," you chuckled, "but then asked myself why not. Maybe I don't know how to fish, but maybe that's not what matters." Maybe what really mattered was the company.

"You don't know how to fish? Damn it, should've guessed when I didn't see a rod on you… I— I'm sorry, miss."

"First of all, it's not miss. I think we're way past that. Secondly, why don't you teach me how to fish, hm?"

You couldn't believe a sentence like this would ever leave your mouth. But a moment later you threw your cigarette on the ground, putting it out with your foot, and took the fishing rod from Kieran after he reeled it back in.

You stood by the water, holding the rod in both hands, hoping this one won't snap in half. Trying to recall any ideas of how to fish, you couldn't. You never paid attention.

"What are you waiting for?" Kieran asked, seeing you looking at the rod like a crow looks at something shiny.

"I… don't really remember how to fish."

"Oh," he paused, thinking about his next move, really wanting to do something that seemed risky, "let me teach you."

This wave of confidence was clearly surprising to the both of you. He stood behind you, from where he gently touched your hands, adjusting your grip on the rod. You could feel his warmth at your back, and suddenly you were well aware of every small movement he made. His fingers lightly brushed over yours and it, to your surprise, made your heart feel kind of tenstion you've never felt before.

"Okay," his voice happened to be right next to your ear as he guided you, "keep your hands relaxed, but not too relaxed. Just like this."

It was weird how out of place you felt. Screw the fishing rod, it wasn't that. The last time a man got this close to you was seconds before he ended up with his throat slit, but you weren't going to do that to Kieran.

"Now, when you cast," he continued, making you painfully aware of how attractive his voice actually was, "just swing, let it happen naturally."

You tried to focus on his instructions, you really tried you best, but you were so distracted, so overwhelmed. The closeness, the warmth, the sound of his voice left you uncharacteristically shy.

"Just like that." Kieran said, guiding your hands in the right movement, and all you did was just... well, be there and watch the catch fall into the water.

You managed to ask. "And now what?"

Kieran chuckled as he pulled away, a light blush on his face. "And now we wait. You'll feel when a fish catches the bait."

"Thank you, Kieran." You glanced at him with an awkward smile.

The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes, listening to the water as you waited for a fish to catch the bait. Kieran seemed content just being there with you, his face calm with a hint of smile, his eyes watching the line.

"How long does it usually take?" Your impatience started to show. As always, you were never the one to stand in one place for too long.

"There's no rule, just— hey, I think you got a bite!" Kieran's eyes lit up. "Let it pull, it's good if the fish gets tired."

You really wanted to just yank the fish out, it would've been way easier and quicker. But this could break the second rod in your fishing career, and that one wasn't even yours.

Kieran's hands were on yours again, now gently showing you how to deal with the fish as it put up a fight, to then slowly reel it in. The fish was desperately trying to break free, only tiring itself out with the attempts.

And finally, after a few moments, you pulled the fish out of the water. It was still trying to put up a fight as you hold it up in the air by its tail.

"Look at that!" Kieran laughed, pure joy in his voice.

You couldn't help but smile at him. "We did it! You helped me catch my first fish!" You turned to glance at the sky, seeing how the sun was soon going to dip below the horizon. "Maybe we can set up a small fire here and eat the fish on our own?"

Kieran's eyes slightly widened at your offer, in a good way. "Y-yeah, sure." And there he was, right back to that shy, stuttering boy.

You chuckled softly at his reaction. "I'll set up the fire, you take care of the fish."

And the two of you got to work, Kieran cleaning the fish meanwhile you set up a small fire to cook it. Pearson always ruins the good stuff anyway, so there was no harm in the two of you having a secret little dinner.

"You look like you know what you're doing." You commented, glancing over at Kieran.

"I kind of had to figure it out," he confessed, "I was a kid when my ma and pa died, had no one else."

Maybe you shouldn't have asked. Everyone in the gang had some kind of sad story, you as well, and most of the time you just never talked about those. "I'm sorry." You muttered, finishing up with the fire, a small flame appearing underneath the branches you've gathered.

"It's okay, we all have a past." Kieran replied. "I've seen you with a gun, you're pretty good for someone that shouldn't even know how to use one." He laughed, hoping you wouldn't take offense.

And you didn't find the comment offensive, you knew he didn't mean it in that way. "I've been running with the gang since I was little, Dutch took me in around the same time as he did John. At first it were just Arthur, John, and I, with the adults."

"Must've been tough for you, growing up with the boys."

You shook your head and smiled. "It was fun, Arthur taught me and John how to shoot, and Hosea taught us how to read, and if I had any girly problem, I just ran to Bessie or Annabelle... back when they were alive."

"I guess I've never had that. You all seem to... look out for each other, like a family. Meanwhile Colm goes through men like he goes through cigars."

You knew the Van der Linde gang was far from family, but it was the closest to a family you've ever had, so you were grateful for it. You all looked out for each other, just trying to survive together, running from the reality of how fast America has been changing lately.

You smirked at Kieran. "Are you saying our gang is better?"

He chuckled. "Actually, yes. I don't wanna say I feel like I belong here, but... well, that is how I feel."

Then you understood that. Kieran wasn't just some former O'Driscoll held captive by your gang. He wanted to be here with you all. He chose to belong. He was one of your own.

You didn't even realize you were watching him with a big smile on your face.

Noticing the smile, Kieran asked, chuckling, "What?"

"Nothing," you replied, even though your heart was saying something different, "guess I'm just glad you're one of us now."

[heys0ulmate]

veneration (this faith's got me high)

pairing: sofia falcone/gigante x f!reader

summary: sofia isn't the same anymore- but you've waited too long for her to care.

warnings: uhh .. unnegotiated/dubcon, gun usage, slight bondage, passing out, im sure im missing stuff, not proofread, major abuse of italics sorry lmao

word count: 4.6K

A/N: this is the first part of what i PLAN to be a series, tho im not sure when the next part(s) will be out. i legitimately havent published a fic in over a decade so im sorry that its like. poorly structured LOL. not much smut in this one sorry yall. title from holy by zolita btw. also this was posted prematurely by accident cus it was still in my drafts but oh well

〰️

You don't recognize the room you're in, but you feel no danger. All you feel is giddiness and bliss.

There's something warm next to you. Sofia.

Her red, pretty lips are moving, corners curled up slightly, but you can't hear her. You laugh despite the fact, because it feels right. The joy in your chest overwhelming.

She's closer, now. You're laughing hysterically, to the point of tears. It's getting hard to breathe.

Sofia cups your face. She looks scared, but you still can't hear what she's saying. You can't speak- all you can do is laugh and choke for air.

The room changes.

It's crowded.

You spot Sofia from across the galley.

Something in you tells you to run to her, as fast as you can, like you'll die if you don't. It's an all-consuming type of panic, the inability to breathe slowly creeping back.

You push past the crowd, but the more progress you make, the larger the room seems to grow.

The crowd parts, and you see her. She's leaving the room, hand in hand with her father. Her lips are parted in a scream that you still can't hear.

"Sofia!" You shriek, running as fast as you can now that the people have cleared a path.

You're inches away from Sofia and the grip her father has on her when you suddenly hear her voice loud and clear from behind you.

"She's not here anymore."

You bolt up from your bed, gasping for air and flailing under your blanket, desperately trying to wrestle it off.

It takes a minute to gather your bearings.

"Shit," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your eyes.

It shouldn't phase you. You can't remember a single night in the past ten goddamn years that you haven't woken up from a some sort of dream-turned nightmare about Sofia. But something about this one seemed to stick to you like summer heat, an uncomfortable, lingering sensation that seems to amplify the harder you try to ignore it.

"She's not here anymore."

It rings through your head like a catchy song as you stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water.

"She's not here anymore."

In the ten years since Sofia was taken from you, you haven't heard her voice even once. You weren't allowed visitation as a non-family member, and phone calls were prohibited for the same reason.

It was almost if the sanctions had carried over into your psyche, some form of cruel punishment that prevented you from hearing her even in your dreams.

At least you were able to see her at night.

You'd never grown used to the inevitable, debilitating dread that suffocated you each time you awoke, but you still looked forward to falling asleep each night, knowing it'd grant you a brief illusion of having Sofia by your side again.

"She's not here anymore."

You try not to think to hard about it, to instead appreciate the blessing of being graced with her voice, even if it was just subconscious. You tell yourself it's probably just a result of the weeks recent events; the flooding of Gotham city. The death of Carmine Falcone.

The impact of it all must have rattled you.

That's all.

But... you can't shake the nagging feeling that there was something more.

It's then that your phone rings on your bedside table. *BRRR*

You set your water cup down with a huff, shuffling your feet slowly towards your bedroom. You're in no rush to pick up. Who the fuck call at this time of night; and without warning?

In your experience, this meant one of two things: the call was your basic, run of the mill scam attempt, or a reporter who had found your number and was desperate for some kind of story. Not that you'd ever give them one, of course. Even when Sofia was still around, and your relationship was somewhat in the public eye, you never discussed anything with journalists of any kind.

After Sofia was sent to Arkham, the scrutiny on you had increased. You went from being the occasionally mentioned girlfriend of Carmine Falcone's daughter, to 'the woman who loved The Hangman.'

Generally, the public saw you as a pseudo-victim; someone who had been manipulated by The Hangman, paraded to maintain a false image, and used as a front to keep Sofia's cover. They didn't believe you when you claimed to have been with Sofia on three of the nights that those women were killed. "The poor girl- who knows what that woman subjected her to, to make her lie for her?"

The year following her arrest was the peak of your exposure. You were relentlessly assaulted with press whenever you went outside, and you had to change your cell phone number four times.

Everyone was dying for an inside scoop on what it was like to know The Hangman intimately.

By the second year, you were more comfortable leaving the house. You moved just outside of Gotham, and slowly, the pressure for statements and interviews died down the longer Sofia was away. You still get the occasional phone call, someone hoping that now that it's been 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 years, maybe you'd be willing to share your 'story.'

You'd hang up immediately every time, until you got to the point where you just stopped picking up.

*BRRRRR*

You approach your bedside table with every intention to hit the reject button, squinting at the brightness of your screen in the dark of your room.

That's when you see the caller ID.

*000*

You pause.

So far, every telemarketer, every scammer, reporter, and journalist, were listed as either Unknown Caller, or a string of numbers.

The only time you received calls with three digit numbers was when it was Alberto.

A part of you hesitates. Alberto does this, sometimes, though it's become more sparse over the years: he goes on a bender, gets too in his feelings, and calls from a nurner phone and leaves you a barrage of voice and text messages. It's always the same, with him going on coked-up rant about how he's going to get Sofia out one day and wrong everyone who wronged her.

Outside of that, though, Alberto never called. When Sofia was sent away, Alberto had begun simultaneously spiraling and attempting to survive and thrive in the Falcone family. Between the drugs and job, Alberto became a lot more isolated than he used to be. Any attempt on your part to reach out wasn't successful. He stopped responding from the number you'd had saved, keeping communication one-sided.

Still, every week, you texted him the same thing at the same time. Sunday, 9AM, an hour before you knew Sofia had visitation hours. Tell Sofia I love her, please.

You'd never get a response, but you never really expected to, either. You had no way of confirming if he was seeing your messages. The only way you knew Alberto still even thought of you or knew your number was with the increasingly infrequent, triple digit ID calls.

Either way, the occasional drug fueled messages always left you feeling even more depressed. Knowing Alberto was suffering just as much as you didn't bring any sort of comfort; it just reminded you of your own pain.

Between the unease from your dream and timing of the call, though, every instinct in your body is telling you to pick up the phone.

*BRRRRR*

Your hands tremble as you clumsily smash the answer button with your thumb, bringing the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" You wait with baited breath as you hear Alberto on the other side of the line. "...'Berto?" There's nothing but silence for a moment.

Then, you hear him clear his throat. "I, uh-" There's a pause, and a sniff. "I'm gettin' her out, [Y/N]."

You're heart pounds almost painfully. "Y-you mean-"

"Yeah," Alberto confirms with a disbelieving laugh, as if he can't wrap his own head around it. "Yeah," he says again, more firmly this time, confirming everything you've wanted, pleaded, prayed for, for ten years. "She's comin' home."

The news breaks two days later.

Two days of silence from Alberto after he dropped that fucking bomb on you.

You aren't sure if you're in shock, or if it literally hasn't quite hit you yet. Maybe it's because, despite a part of you accepting you'd never see her again, you always had faith in your heart that she'd come back to you. That naive hope kept you alive for ten years.

You aren't sure what to do with yourself, now. You've grown so accustomed to just... existing. Holding hope, with nothing to really do with it. This sort of feels likes that, but with more anticipation knowing what's to come.

Except, it doesn't.

She comes home, yes. You watch the reports about it, read the headlines, hear the outcries. But you don't see her. You don't hear from her, or Alberto, and you're resigned to waiting for one of them to reach out.

After a few days, you grew impatient. The anxiety you'd felt from waiting around had turned into a sort of panic, an all consuming need to make any attempt to quell your nerves.

Why hadn't you heard anything? Had something gone wrong? Did they forget?

You'd gone to the Falcone residence. It was fucking packed with news casters, journalists, rioters and spectators. It had taken you a while to shove your way through the mob, and when you had, you were turned away like everyone else.

You went back the next day, and the next, and the results were the same.

And then, Alberto dies.

You think the shock will return, but all you can think is Sofia, Sofia, Sofia. Your Sofia. Your girl, who must be hurting so tremendously right now, who you can't cradle and comfort.

It seems your deep seeded need to be by Sofia's side reignites some of your more rational thinking, though, and you consider your options.

The crowds of cameras and protesters should disperse by the time the sun goes down, you'd assume, giving you more of a shot to see her.

So, you decide to return to the Falcone's late that evening, when the moon has settled and the stars are at their brightest.

Despite the time, it seems the family is well awake, as all the lights can be seen as you walk up the driveway. You hear voices, though you're too far away to tell if they're shouts from behind the walls, or conversations outside.

Soon, two of the guards notice you approaching. "Hey!" One hollars, hoisting up his gun as he stalks towards you. "What are you doin' here? You got business with Luca?"

You should probably be more concerned about the possibility of being shot by a paranoid guard, but your adrenaline is pumping too hard to care.

"Uh- no, I'm- I don't," you stutter. "I wanna see Sofia."

As the second guard approaches, you hear a soft chuckle. "Ah, yeah, I remember you," he drawls, before turning towards the other man. "Used to hang around Sofia," he explains to him, making the other relax his posture slightly.

"She's not available," the first one grunts, "probably won't be for a while."

Being turned down does little to deter you. "So she's here? Just, not available?" You ask hopefully. They don't get a chance to respond. "That's fine. I can wait."

You make a bold move to squeeze past them, speed walking over to the grand stair case in front of the house with purpose.

Behind you, the guards bicker. You don't hear what they say, outside of something about 'letting Ms. Falcone decide,' but based on the lack of pushback, you assume the one who remembered you was suggesting the other guard leave it be.

You're perfectly content to sit for as long as you need to. You've waited a decade for Sofia; you can wait a few hours- or even until the morning- to finally see her after all this time.

To your surprise, though, you only wait for about 45 minutes.

The front doors of the mansion swing open, and you hear the click of heels stomping down the steps.

"Fuckin' pricks," someone mutters, and you immediately recognize the voice.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you stand on shaky legs, and you can't turn around to face her fast enough. You almost lose you balance in the process, but catch yourself in time for Sofia to notice your presence.

She has a cigarette halfway to her lips as she stares at you, an unreadable expression on her face.

You blink.

She blinks.

"You're..." her voice sounds empty for a moment. Then she shakes her head a little, blinking hard a few times and huffing. "What are you doing here, [Y/N]?"

You open your mouth, but your brain is moving a mile a minute. Nothing comes out, and you just gape at her like a fish for a few moments. "Uhhhh..." you trail off dumbly, but you're too frozen to even feel stupid about it.

Sofia rolls her eyes. "Come on," she says as she resumes her walk past you, lighting up her cigarette as she does. "I'm not staying too far from here at the moment."

You practically trip over yourself in your rush to follow Sofia. It's a bit of a struggle to keep up with her pace, but you manage. The car is parked at the end of the driveway. A burly man is propped against the hood, and he moves around to the back door when he sees Sofia quickly approaching. He opens it for her with a quick acknowledgment as she slides in smoothly, and remains silent as you clumsily follow suit.

Sofia keeps her eyes fixed out the window as the man gets into the drivers seat. You can't help but stare at her, though, something akin to awe making it impossible to look away.

A few minutes into the drive, you see Sofia tentatively shift her eyes towards you. She looks on guard, as though unnerved by your eyes on her.

Still, she says nothing. Her gaze stays trained on the passing scenery for the remainder of the ride, like she's stubbornly making an effort to ignore your blatant staring.

Sofia hardly waits until the car is parked to unbuckle and hastily exist the vehicle once it's pulled in front of her building. You rush to get your door open, jogging a little to catch up to her.

You're paid no mind as Sofia struts inside and walks to the kitchen. It's almost like you're invisible, a silent, unseen witness.

Sofia moves around the kitchen with a practiced ease, retrieving a glass and wine bottle that she pops open, pouring a sizeable amount. She takes a long, long sip, her head tilting back until the contents of her glass are almost completely gone.

Then, she sighs, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she embraces the warmth of the alcohol.

Finally, she looks at you, indifference written all over her face. "You didn't give me an answer earlier," she states simply.

You take a small step forward. "Sofia..." You blink hard, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

Sofia is looking at you. You see her. You hear her.

You take another step, and another, until your knees buckle in front of her. "Sofia," it's an almost reverant sound that makes Sofia inhale sharply.

She's so close.

You wrap your arms around her legs as you kneel before her, nuzzling against her thighs.

"Sofia," you say again, just as softly.

You can breathe again. After ten long, dreadful years, you finally feel like the air in your lungs is pure and real.

Sofia freezes. She's unsure of how to process this.

You're here. In front of her- willingly.

It feels wrong; you bowing before her when you have no idea who she is anymore.

"Cut it out," she mutters, lightly pushing your head away and taking a small step back.

You remain on your knees, looking up at her with half lidded eyes.

The adoration in them makes Sofia uncomfortable.

"Get off the floor," Sofia says, her tone indescribable. "You aren't an animal." She turns to top off her wine glass, takes a sip, and leaves the room.

It takes you a minute to gather yourself, but you slowly move towards the direction she headed in. You find her in a room down the hall, an open, office-adjacent space. She's sitting on a loveseat in the center of the room, staring blankly ahead as she sips away.

You pause in the doorway to observe her for a minute, wondering if she's aware that you've followed. You decide to let your presence be known, taking a few confident steps forward.

Sofia doesn't look at you when she speaks.

"Whatever you're here for," she starts, "you won't find."

"No," you find yourself saying. "No, Sofia, I..." you trail off as you come closer. "I... I just want you."

Sofia's jaw clenches. "You don't know what that means anymore," she spits, before taking another sip of her wine, attempting to grow the irrational anger brewing inside her.

There's a certain, panicked heat that comes over you then, feeling unheard and misunderstood. "No, no," you say hastily. "No, Sofia, please," you drop in front of her again. "Please, Sofia. I don't care what that- what that means. All I care about is you."

Sofia scoffs, her temper getting the best of her. She grips your hair without thinking, pulling your head off her lap to look up at her. "You want me to show you what it means?" She hisses, eyes wide and manic. "Okay. Take your clothes off."

You're momentarily stunned, not expecting Sofia's request. "What? Ah-!" Sofia yanks your hair again, gritting her teeth as she speaks. "Take off your fucking clothes," she repeats.

Her tone sends you into motion, and you scramble to remove your top. Sofia settles back against the couch as she watches you undress for her, keeping her features schooled.

Once your bare, you shift on your knees a bit, unsure of what to do. Being naked in front of Sofia certainly isn't new, but, it's also been ten years since you've last been intimate with her. You never anticipated it happening again like... this. Sofia never acted this way with you in the last. Usually, she undressed you herself, slowly and with kisses on each inch of skin she revealed. She had been teasing, sure, but never so stern.

It stirred something in you that you couldn't place your finger one. All you know is, you certainly aren't complaining.

So, you stay still, not wanting to do anything without instruction lest Sofia decide she's no longer willing to entertain you. You bask in Sofia's predatory gaze, letting her drink in your exposed body.

Soon, though, you start to squrim a bit. It's not cold, per say, but the air was just brisk enough on your bare skin that you couldn't ignore the slight chill.

You shivered a little, and Sofia smirked.

"You cold?" She asks knowingly. Sofia keeps her eyes on you as she reaches for her wine glass, standing as she does.

You tense a little as she begins to stalk closer to you, a small sneer on her face.

She's behind you, now, but you don't dare to move your head, not even when you hear the clink of her wine glass on the ground. Instead, you stay still and complacent as Sofia picks up your discarded shirt and begins to wrap it around your wrists. You moan inadvertently at the feeling of her skin on yours, but Sofia takes a deep breath. She ignores the sound, instead making quick work of restraining your hands behind your back.

When she's done, Sofia picks her glass back up as she towers over you. There's a dark, empty look in her eye that sends a chill down your spine.

Sofia, of course, notices this.

She smirks. "Is that it? You chilly, sweetheart?" Her voice is patronizing and full of faux concern.

You're not sure if she wants an answer or not, but aren't given a chance to respond either way, Sofia suddenly splashing the remenants of the wine from her glass onto you.

You flinch, and gasp loudly at the cold sensation. You're hands instinctively move to rub at eyes in an attempt to clear your vision, but you find yourself tugging fruitlessly at the shirt Sofia had binded your wrists. The wine soaking your face and dampening your hair ends trickles down your body, erupting goosebumps in it's wake.

You're still blinking heavily in an attempt to normalize your seeing when hear a breathy cackle. You feel her pinch your jaw, a strong grip on you as she licks a filthy stripe up your face, lapping up the spilt wine. She releases you, the sound of footsteps echoing through the room as Sofia struts past you and towards the desk by the window. You can't see what she's retrieving, your eyesight blurry and unfocused.

By the time Sofia circles back, you've mostly regainedy your vision. You don't have any time to visually process what she has in her hand, though, as she wastes no time in forcing the barrel of her handgun past your parted, panting lips, and into your mouth.

"It's a terrible feeling. Isn't it?" The gun presses a little harder, and you cringe at the feeling of rough metal pressing against your tongue. "Nothing left to hide behind," Sofia drawls, her voice is surprisingly even, though her words feel weighted.

You blink up at her with an unnerving lack of fear.

Sofia bares on with a tilt of her head. "The guards at Arkham stripped us bare every morning," she states, and your heart clenches at the thought. "It was humiliating," Sofia continues, a subtle anger brewing in her voice with each punctuated annunciation, "being turned into a thing."

Sofia shoves the gun hard enough to make you gag, and presses forward until you're bending backwards. Sofia straddles you, her grip on the gun digesting your movements. She has you sprawled on your back, hands twisted painfully under you, pressed between your spine and the hardwood floor.

Sofia lowers her face, her wild eyes inches from yours. "You think," she growls, "that I'm still who you knew?" She smiles, though there's no joy in it. "That I'm not just a thing?"

Apparently, it wasn't a rhetorically question, as Sofia yanks the gun out of your mouth.

You sputter for a second, before rushing to respond, "no," you gasp. "I- I don't expect you to- to be the same, Sofia, I don't." Your voice cracks a bit, and you pray that your eyes convey your earnesty. "I don't care that you- you don't feel like yourself, Sofia, if you feel different, now. I love you. I love you. I love you, Sofia," you insist, your voice soft.

Sofia regards you for a long minute, and you wait with abated breath to see how she'd react.

For a moment, you think she's heard you. Really heard, and believed you- believed in your unconditional love and devotion for her. There's a hopeful, but guarded look in her eye, something akin to a skittish street cat assessing if it should trust the hand reaching out to pet it. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it's gone.

Sofia's features go hard again, and she moves her face away, straightening her back and kneeling over you.

"You don't get it," she says- simply, quietly, almost as if to herself.

You part your lips to protest, but Sofia is quicker, and slaps her hand over your mouth. "Don't," she warns.

Sofia hates it. The way you don't even struggle under her; the way you just take it, like you understand what this means.

Why don't you get it? Do you really not understand what kind of horrors she was exposed to? What they did to her; what they turned her into?

It pissed her off.

How dare you, how dare you, prance back into her life, expecting her to be untouched by the hell that was Arkham?

Do you think she's naive? That she'd truly believe, after all this time, you'd still want her? Want her for who she actually is now?

You don't even fucking know her anymore.

Fuck.

It upsets her for so many reasons that she refuses to acknowledge right now.

Instead, she let's herself embrace the unbridled rage that's always threatening to erupt inside her.

"Alright!" She exclaims, a Cheshire Cat smile spreading across her face. "You love me?" She taunts. "You think you want me?"

She shoves herself off of you to pull her underwear down her legs. You're heart thuds as she slips off her fur coat and hikes up her dress. Sofia easily drops back down, straddling your face and gripping your hair with one hand. "Show me, then." With that, she lowers herself completely, smothering your face in her cunt.

Your primal instincts kick in, then, and you press forward, your tongue eagerly swiping through her folds.

Jesus fuck, you think somewhere in the back of your mind. Finally, finally, finally.

You hadn't realized how much you craved the taste of Sofia until this very moment. It feels like you're starving, like you haven't eaten in ten goddamn years, and Sofia is the first meal you've been granted.

Your ministrations are messy and desperate. You can hardly think straight, overwhelmed by the taste and scent and feel of Sofia. All you do is lick and suck and moan, embracing the pure bliss you feel. The rapidly decreasing supply of oxygen in your lungs is easy to ignore when you finally have the privilege of pleasuring Sofia again.

Sofia's eyebrows furrow. You won't struggle under her. You won't look up with panicked eyes, even as she deprives you of air.

You don't get it.

Sofia narrows her eyes and her hips buck forward. It's almost violent, the way she fucks your face, riding harder and harder. She grunts softly, losing inhibition as she watches her slickness spread all over your face.

Still, you only whine as though you're the one being pleasured.

Why don't you fucking get it.

Sofia tightens her grip in your hair, pushing your face impossibly closer against her cunt as she feels her climax approaching. She's panting harshly through her noise, controlling the means threatening to spill out of her.

Just then, your eyes slugglishly blink open and lock with hers. It's clear that you're moments away from passing out, and Sofia can only stare down at the dazed look in your eyes.

Still, there's no fear there. There's nothing but adoration.

You're eyes roll back, and you're eyelids flutter shut. Sofia's breath hitches as your body goes limp under her.

It's then that she cums, her body tensing and jerking. A ragged moan escapes her as she grinds and grinds against you, using your unconscious body to draw the waves of pleasure out.

Sofia slumps off of you, sitting by your side as she recovers from the exertion. She just sits for a while, until her breathing regulates, and she gathers the courage to look over at you.

You're still passed out, but the slight rise and fall of your chest tells Sofia you are, in fact, alive.

It doesn't do much to relieve Sofia- not when there's a sick, familiar feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

No.

Sofia squeezes her eyes shut.

This isn't supposed to matter.

This doesn't mean anything.

Sofia stands, and smooths out her dress. She can't afford to have regrets; to have... things that make her question herself.

That's not her anymore.

Sofia takes a deep breath.

She squares her shoulders, and doesn't spare you a second glance as she forces herself to leave the room.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 1650

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding, panic attacks, bondage, forced mating, dated derogatory terms

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnmixedbingo -Hiding an Injury @anyfandomgoesbingo -Childhood Best Friends

A/N I: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

A/N III: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Series Masterlist

PART X

Bobby fiddled around with the unfinished box when, bingo, it popped open, revealing a bunch of rolled papers inside. He crossed to the garage and fired up a printer, making copies of the documents then returned everything to its original position because John would notice if anything were misplaced. Heading back to his room, Bobby noticed light still coming from underneath the boy's door and lightly rapped it before opening it.

The elder brother was spooning his mate from behind, which made sense since Bobby knew from personal experience that lying on bruised ribs dulled the pain. However, it was difficult for the man to process why his brother was sleeping snugly against her front, his fingers twined with Dean's, resting on her hip.

****

Bobby is jerked out of his troubled sleep by a truck engine rumbling to life. Moving the window, he sees the taillights as John's GMC crunches over the gravel driveway toward the gate. Cursing obscenities in multiple languages, he rushes downstairs and pivots toward the front door when a voice calls out, "Denver Pyle aware you stole his underwear?"

Doubling back, he finds Dean sitting at the kitchen table with a smirk, drinking coffee. "Don't think you're too big to be taken to the woodshed, boy." Bobby chastised with as much dignity as he could muster in his red flannel long johns, walking to the stove to pour himself a cup from the old blue enamel pot. Ignoring the other man's continued smirk sat down across from him. "Good to see your eyes back to normal. Ready to tell me what that was about last night?"

That sobered Dean up.

He inquired how much Bobby knew about everything, and the Beta was honest about what he'd been told and felt that familiar pang of resentment toward John, watching Dean retreat into himself, knowing self-recrimination was nothing new for him.

"Seeing it's too early to get breakfast from Micky D's, I'm guessing John's found somewhere else to be." The young Alpha shrugged, saying it is what it is, and fiddled with his mug. "Anyway, I gotta keep my nose clean so Sammy doesn't end up in CYF custody. And seeing how you're my warden, that's the parole officer we're supposed to meet today." Dean slid a piece of paper over with his parole officer's info. "Is there anything else I should know before seeing them?" Dean shook his head negatively. Bobby braced himself, knowing the next thing coming out of his mouth would raise the Alpha's hackles.

"Couldn't help noticing number girl shivering in those hand-me-downs last night, and Sam needs some warmer clothes for school; going to get damn cold before too much longer." Deans features shifted, "Bobby, it's my responsibility to provide. I'll get what they need after I find a job."

"Looks like John forgot a few details. Part of the agreement is you'll work for me, too. But if that's how you want to do things, I've got no problem docking your paycheck in reimbursement." After rinsing his mug, the older hunter crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, and decided to bring up what he saw last night.

"Considering we have an Omega in the house, I want to get a few things straight,. You boys have always been close, and don’t care if you still share a room, but don't take me for stupid." A flash of oh crap crosses Dean's features. "And I want to be clear: she's your property. It'll be your decision how to handle situations when they arise. Where Sam is concerned, there'd better not be any fighting over her 'cause I'm not getting in the middle of you two. And give me a heads up before you go into a rut 'cause that's another thing I'm not going to deal with either."

After getting a yes sir, Bobby heads back upstairs to get dressed when he runs into Sam, who asks why he is dressed like Uncle Jessie makes the Beta grumble; this is gonna be a long six months.

Bobby once again wonders where god got their twisted sense of humor.

The building Dean's parole officer directed them to look like a country feed store from the outside. Inside, that was a different story.

Bobby had learned a few things about people's kinks over the years, but this place shocked the seasoned hunter when a bubbly voice that didn't match the decor called out, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I help you with today?"

Bobby watches Dean lean against the glass counter, showcasing a variety of erotic toys, turns on the charm he's mastered at a young age, turning the female Beta into goo while explaining he needs the necessities for his recently acquired Omega.

The shop assistant leaned towards him, putting her ample bosom on display. "We carry all the approved items from the O divisions. But if you're interested in something more adventurous, we have a certified craftsman who does custom designs." Bobby slaps the list they'd compiled on the counter, "We just need this stuff."

The assistant does a quick read and, within minutes, has almost everything sitting on the counter. "Most of our customers prefer to custom order outfits for their O. Let me show you what we have in store; see if any strikes your fancy."

Exaggeratedly swaying her hips, she heads toward the clothes section, where Bobby picks up a shirt and says, "This stuff makes the lingerie I gave my wife look conservative." Dean nodded toward him and inquired. "Do you have anything not so revealing for an O about his height?" The assistant looked confused. "Are you kidding?" Dean shook his head, and her attitude changed. "If this is some prank, you can leave, or I'm calling the cops."

Bobby intervenes, and Dean can hear the testy assistant's insolent remark and Bobby's very Bobby response as he walks out of the store. Unlocking the Impala, Dean opens the rear door and helps the Omega out. As they enter the store, the manager is now arguing with Bobby. "O's are not that big; it's a biological impossibility!" Bobby replies, "Oh yeah," and peers around them, "Tell that to her!"

Dean sat a bowl of spaghetti covered in meat sauce and salad he'd made to appease Sam in the middle of the table, then went to pull the cheesy garlic bread from the broiler. "Damn, that smells good," Bobby said coming from the library with Sam in tow, and sat in their usual spots at the kitchen table.

Reaching for a piece of bread, Bobby asked, "Isn't your girl hungry?" Sam's eyes cut to his brother, waiting to see how he'd answer, and watched Bobby's narrow at Dean's casual response, knowing he was concealing something.

"She won't touch the stuff Dad bought, so Dean's been sneaking her food, but the only thing she'll take is broth." Sam yelped and kicked his brother back. "This true, boy?" Dean affirmed that he had, and Bobby wiped his mouth. "Show me the stuff John got."

Retrieving a bag resembling dry dog food Bobby opened it frowning, "This isn't fit to feed a hog, let alone a person! Why'd he get this crap?"

"It's on the list of approved nourishment."

Bobby sighed, "As long as you're in my house, we all will eat like other families."

Completing more paperwork made Dean gnaw on the end of the pen because the bureaucracy involved in owning an Omega annoyed the Alpha after spending most of his life trying to stay off the government radar. A cough drew his attention, and he saw the Omega shivering where she knelt on the tiled floor.

"Fuck this," Dean growled, tossing the clipboard aside, got up, and getting her up off the floor, removed his jacket and wrapped it around her before helping her sit in the chair next to his.

Returning the clipboard, Dean drew the receptionist's ire and let them know he doesn't give a shit about their rules before sitting down, glaring. He continued until they were called and slowly made their way to an examination room at the far end of the clinic, where the doctor Bobby knew was already waiting.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Stevenson. Could you please have her remove the coat and sit on the table? I've looked over the other clinic's paperwork. Are there any other issues you're concerned about?" Dean tells them about her not eating and the constant pain she seems to be in, even with the substantial pain reliever being given. "Let me do another examination, see if something got missed."

The doctor asks the O to indicate pain on a scale of one to ten, starting at her feet and working up her body. They are pleased that most reactions are under five until they touch her neck, and she throws herself off the table. "Believe we found the source," the doctor comments. They ask Dean to remove the collar, and he admits not knowing how it made them frown.

Dean helps the trembling O back up as the doctor pulls out a penlight and shines it over the collar, finding hidden stitching and their expression changes.

"What's wrong?"

"I haven't seen one of these since my residency. I'll find something to cut the leather while you hold her." Dean drew the O flush against him and gently guided her face into his neck, releasing calming pheromones to relax her.

Dr. Stevenson slid surgical scissors under the ties, quickly sniping, explaining the original high collars were redesigned for autoerotic asphyxiation. Their voice fades out as Dean feels like he's having needles pulling out from under the skin of his neck when she drops. "I was expecting that. Let's get the O back on the table."

The doctor continues talking as they slowly remove it, "And this is why they're outlawed," stepping back allows Dean to see deep purple bruises with black depressions stripping the unconscious O's neck.

Part XI

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx  @lyarr24  @flamencodiva   @lassie-bird  @nancymcl   @spnbaby-67 @leigh70 @b3autyfuld1sast3r

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2  @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys  @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

[lynaferns]

Is it bad that I have such a tunnel vision for Sun and Moon?

Sometimes I wonder if I've ever turned down someone by not being interested in the glamrocks, or any other animatronic, or any other fnaf character in general except for the DCA (when at least half (if not most) of the DCA fandom also indulges in the other characters from security breach).

Several times someone has approached me asking excited about my glamrocks designs or if the glamrocks will take part whenever I came up with a new AU.

And I kind of feel bad when I respond with little interest.

[svtskneecaps]

literally it's 3am where i live and i'm on mobile but FUCK IT i haven't posted any actual writing in like a YEAR on this blog whose description include the words "I WRITE" and i can't tell if i'm even going anywhere with this so fuck it under the cut is the prospective absolute mess of the first chapter of the flipo family time loop fic. (for clarity, flipo family as in slime, mariana, and juanaflippa) this covers loop 0, aka the relevant parts of canon. words: 1630

parts of it i popped off with and other parts i hate; up to you to identify them. also the italics and other formatting got erased when i copy pasted and i'm re-adding all of it by hand so if i missed a spot, no i didn't. if i missed an accent on a letter in spanish that was a typo, if i missed a ¡ or ¿ that may have been on purpose.

oh and for obvious reasons, content warning for mentions and mild descriptions of child death and child murder. no blood, and most of it is a three word mention; i'd say the brief paragraph beginning "Tilín didn't scream" is most of the reason this warning exists.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

He’d been hoping for a bright, sunny day to start their vacation, but was sorely disappointed. The portal had apparently taken them pretty far, since they’d gone from noon to night time. Talk about jetlag. They hadn’t even been on a plane.

“What happened to the other guys?” he wondered aloud as he stepped onto the platform.

“Yeah no clue,” Phil said, scanning the empty station. “Thought they’d meet us here.”

“Guys!” one of the Spanish speakers--Vegetta, he’d said, when they’d all met up at the first station--called, from a lectern at the wall. “There is a book!”

They crowded around as he read the instructions aloud--something about pressure plates, Slime wasn’t paying that close of attention. He was a little more preoccupied with making sure it only felt like his brain was dripping out of his ears. That would be kind of embarrassing.

Which was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the constant onslaught of people talking over each other using words he may or may not understand. In fact, it was the opposite; he was frankly thriving in the absolute chaos that kicked back up around him as a timer appeared in the wrist communicators they’d been provided along with their tickets.

“Como se dice ‘we are going to die now’?” He giggled, chasing Phil and Fit to one end of the station.

“¡Vamos a morir!” shouted Spiderman, echoed seconds later by the black bear in the collared shirt.

Giddy over the high of attempting to use his high school foreign language for the first time maybe ever, Slime absolutely didn’t contribute much to solving the puzzle, and before long the sound of the timer ticking down was accompanied by a loud buzzing alarm.

“It’s been an honor!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. “It’s been an honor!”

The bear ran past them again, shouting, “I’m going to die!” in English this time.

“Adiós amigos!” Slime yelled.

The countdown ended.

And then his communicator buzzed, and there was a video playing on the screen, showing a cartoonish yellow duck in front of a blurry beach stock photo. He skimmed it absently--some generic welcoming message and another side quest for them--distracted by Maximus audibly losing his shit laughing across the station.

“Come on, I’m trying to take a vacation, I gotta work now?” Fit complained. “This is ridiculous.”

Slime wanted to jump on that bit, but the message cut off with coordinates marred by static and the noise of the emergency weather alert system and he lost his train of thought completely.

“I got the English book!” Spreen called, holding it with two fingers like it had personally offended him.

“English leader,” Vegetta said, seeming to find that amusing.

“English leader.” Spreen laughed and flicked the book away. Slime stepped back but somehow it still nailed him in the chest.

“Guess I’m reading then,” he said cheerfully.

“In Spanish?” Maximus said.

“Um.”

Vegetta called something, backing across the plaza with the book open in his hands. Phil backed up to the wall.

“Here,” Phil instructed, “we’ll read it here.”

“Okay okay.” He flicked it open. “So we have to get water wheel planks--”

Their peace lasted a grand total of thirty seconds as voices suddenly began shouting, overlapping in chaotic chorus.

“What is that?” Fit demanded.

“Is that coming from the other side?” Phil stared up at the top of the wall.

“This is the thinnest thick wall I’ve ever seen,” Slime said, giddy laughter bubbling out of him again. “Is this thing made out of pencil shavings? If I sneeze on it, is there gonna be a hole?”

“Nevermind, we’ll read it over here.” Phil dragged them away again, but the Spanish speakers were dispersing into the trees.

“Forget the book,” Fit said, “follow them!”

(In the end it was explosives that took the wall down, which in hindsight was a precursor to how a not insignificant portion of time on the island was spent. The first day, however, it was just funny, much like everything else.)

(That was to say, the first first day.)

The communicator had indicated that today there was something special planned, so he made an extra effort to wake up.

“Morning Jaiden!” he called to his upstairs neighbor.

“Hi Charlie!” He could hear her farming through the wall. “Glad you woke up on time!”

“Well you know, you know, El Backflipo couldn’t miss it,” he joked, sifting through his backpack. “Got any spare food? I’ll trade you uno backflipo.”

“I have so much toast, come here and get some, free of charge.”

With a quick backflip and some toast to start the day, he popped open the map.

“There’s a lot of people down the wall,” he noted, their green dots so clustered they formed one. “Wanna check it out?”

“Yeah sure.” Jaiden tossed some seeds into a chest. “Do you know what this event’s gonna be?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted cheerfully.

She laughed. “Yeah, me neither. I guess there’s an egg involved, but that’s all I know.”

He dug around in his backpack for a paraglider, nodding along. “Yeah, yeah, un huevo, I get you.” Shuffling the landmine from Vegetta to one side, he yanked out his glider and threw himself out her window. “Let’s go!”

(nothing like getting struck by lightning to wake a guy up in the morning)

Slime fiddled with the communicator as he waited for the line of people to get through the ticket machine; he already had his own, a nice B for Backflipo. The new live translations still boggled his mind. He had to fight the urge to chant weird shit under his breath, just to see what the bubbles would say.

He paid a little extra attention when Mariana walked up to the machine. That guy seemed cool. They’d done that pequeño dormir together on day one, and he had a good sense of humor. Egg parenting would probably be funny.

He was thrilled to see the B for Backflipo on the ticket Mariana stepped away with, even if Mariana was decidedly less so. This was gonna be good.

(it was, and it wasn’t)

So, Mariana wasn’t exactly the coparent of dreams. Then again, Slime was pretty sure Mariana could say the same about him. In fact he was pretty sure Mariana had said the same, but in Spanish, when he wasn’t checking the translation.

It was great. They thought they’d killed a child immediately and then decided to fake their own child’s death to get away with it, and then confessed their sins to a bilingual angel and built a farm and then he buried himself beneath an improvised cross and went into a coma until his sins were forgiven, or something, except his sins weren’t forgiven in time to save his own child’s life.

And then Juanaflippa was dead. Dead at Mariana’s hand.

His bitch wife killed their daughter.

(Everything went faster, after that.)

Slime wanted to kill him.

Slime wanted to kill him for killing their fucking daughter, but of course, Mariana couldn’t even be bothered to be around to take care of her alive, never mind to pay for his crimes when she died by his hand!

(in a better world, his rage started and ended there. in a better world, the anger fizzled out with the lack of a target.

this was not that world)

There couldn’t be an Egg Event with no eggs.

If he killed them all, it would bring her back.

(in a worse world, he succeeded. in a worse world, the Egg Event ended there.

this was not that world)

They held a trial.

If he won, it would bring her back.

(in another world, he didn’t convince them. in another world, they left his daughter in Hell.

this was not that world)

Tilín was still before she hit the ground.

Tilín didn’t scream. Maybe they didn’t have time. It happened so fast. He was sure it happened fast. Almost too fast. But everything went so fast, now, even though Flippa was back. Yet, time slowed down for this, like a rubberneck driving past a highway accident, watching him desperately trying to shock their heart back into motion.

“YOU KILL MY BEST FRIENDS,” Flippa wrote. He begged her to understand. She wrote, “i can’t believe it.”

She wrote, “I HATE YOU.”

(in a better world, the error would have been caught in April instead of July.

this was not that world)

His daughter fell to his bitch wife’s sword. The same way. The next day.

They’d only just gotten her back. And Mariana killed her again.

He only left eggxile for the funeral. She wouldn’t stay dead, but he had to be there.

Time went even faster after that. He was Gegg, or maybe Gegg was him, or maybe Gegg was Gegg, or maybe. . . ?

He went back to eggxile.

He wasn’t leaving without them. Tilín. Juanaflippa. He would do whatever was necessary. He would pray to any higher power. Lil J still owed him a goddamn favor, but the guy wouldn’t pick up his calls. Maybe if he put more shit in the shrine; angels liked shiny shit, didn’t they? He went back to the mine, where the gasses swirled in his head. He built the shrine. He mined. He built the shrine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

He went back to the mine.

“This is where I sit, this is where my bitch wife sits, and this is where my daughter sits, if I had one!”

He’d said that before. No he hadn’t. Yes he had.

No, he just needed to clear his head.

Charlie Slimecicle went back to the mine.

Charlie Slimecicle stepped off the train.

[pythoria]

hello everyone! a quick break from your scheduled art posting to talk about this incredible fic i think ever bloodweave enjoyer should read.

i know it'a already very popular, but imo it's a must-read. i could not praise this fic enough for what it is, the amazing ideas it brings to the table, the incredible execution of the timeloop trope. it's by far the fic i look forward to seeing in my inbox the most (not that other fics aren't absolutely gorgeous), because every chapter is just. a delight to read. it's got angst, fluff, and an amazing romance, but the plot is what really makes it stand out. it's tight, packed with great characterisation and has perfect pacing. please give it a shot if that sounds at all interesting to you. oh yeah, and did i mention that it's got art for every single chapter? yeah, read it. bask in its genius.