#Inhuman!Trip AU

[starry-boyz]

svsss modern au where shen jiu becomes self aware and realizes that they’re in a romcom world.

it’s not a slow realization, more of a sudden awareness and then suddenly everything around him made so much more sense. all of the kissing couples he’s had to walk around on rainy days, the dramatic declarations of love that would occur in the office, the sheer number of bumbling, new interns who would trip and drop documents at the feet of important senior workers, etc.

shen jiu has a crisis about this for approximately two days before slapping himself and being reassured about the fact that he is, in fact, not romcom couple potential. he’s what some have called “a bitch from hell” and he is proud of it. his family is incredibly wealthy yet thankfully completely clean in all the ways that matter. he will be safe from the romcom machinations that his world runs on even if it tries to drag him in kicking and screaming. and he went on with his days content with his distance from it all.

he did not account for shen yuan—his dearest, idiot twin brother.

he should have accounted for shen yuan.

because his brother, lovable despite how much of a bumbling, foul mouthed fool he was, was the perfect material for a modern day romcom. and perhaps shen jiu was an even bigger fool for not realizing it until danger was imminent.

and then liu qingge, famous mma fighter, his nemesis, meets shen yuan and shen jiu just barely holds himself back from ripping the man’s throat out with a combination of his teeth and sheer force of will when the brute’s face erupts into a red flush the moment he makes eye contact with shen yuan.

the shrill, inhuman noise that escaped his mouth in that moment was enough of a distraction for him to be able to grab shen yuan and drag them both to the relative safety of his apartment.

it’s then that shen jiu swears to never let shen yuan get dragged into the machinations of this romcom world, especially not when it wants to bind his twin to that idiot of a brute known as liu qingge.

it really is a shame that the world never listened to shen jiu’s wishes.

because no matter how much he tries to keep the two of them apart from one another, liu qingge somehow ends up meeting with shen yuan at least once a day. it’s maddening enough to drive shen jiu into a stress induced tea-brewing session that shen yuan said tasted bitter—border-lining on burnt.

it’s only when shen yuan starts blushing around the brute as well that shen jiu decides that extreme measures needs to be taken. it comes in the form of the trio of high schoolers that shen yuan has been tutoring: ming fan, ning yingying, and luo binghe.

after much persuasion and bribery (mostly bribery) the three agreed to join him in his mission to keep the two apart.

only, any attempt at foiling the budding romance only seems to spur it on more??? the world seems to be twisting their attempted sabotage into a romantic gesture/opportunity???

putting random, disgusting ingredients in the coffee that shen yuan made for liu qingge? shen yuan trips, spills it on the brute’s shirt, and it leads to them going on a semi-date where shen yuan buys the brute a new shirt.

replacing the rare book that liu qingge was going to gift to shen yuan with fifty shades of grey? shen yuan was thrilled to be able to tear it apart with words and later on with an actual fucking sword that liu qingge just had apparently.

the trio of minions he’s recruited had apparently had their own romcom situations happening in the background with him being none the wiser. (luo binghe attached himself ferociously to an older student named gongyi xiao, ming fan found himself in a rivals-to-lovers situation with liu qingge’s apprentice yang yixuan, and ning yingying found herself being seduced by liu qingge’s sister because of course she did)

shen jiu feels like he’s going insane.

and amongst all of this insanity, it genuinely threw shen jiu for a loop when he found his heart begin to thump when he reunites with his childhood friend, yue qi, who went from a cute and dependable older friend to a handsome man and oh fuck—

[thewistlingbadger]

Analyzing Viktor's eyes:

We've talked about how Jayce is never repulsed or afraid of the major changes to Viktor's body and accepts him instantly whenever he sees something that should not be the way it is when it comes to Viktor's body. What we have YET to talk about is just how Jayce doesn't turn away from Viktor's purple and metal body, he does not turn away from Viktor's steel and muted eyes and I think this is VERY IMPORTANT.

Because in season two Viktor's eyes are somewhat symbolic of his humanity. Viktor's eyes are naturally yellow and are one of the most distinctive elements to his design but after his transfusion with the hexcore they become this empty gray that sometimes changes color. It looks very weird and inhuman and nothing like Viktor. The only time we see Viktor's natural eyes in season two is in the astral plane, where he also maintains his season one hairstyle and features and build. However once Viktor goes full machine herald his eyes are completely gone. His face is split in half and the eyes of his mask contain no pupil or iris. It is only two glowing slits of yellow, both in the astral plane and in the actual world (although in the actual world Viktor's "eyes" actually take on a spherical shape but still it is literally just two glowing spheres of yellow). ADDITIONALLY even though is face is split we can still see it under the mask and we see his eyes are CLOSED. As if he is closed off from his humanity after fully becoming the machine herald or just refuses to look at it or the consequences of his actions.

It is JAYCE who's responsible for the return of Viktor's natural eye color once Viktor has become the machine herald. Viktor's machine herald mask in the astral plane BREAKS because Ekko throws the z drive directly at Viktor's face. We're able to see half of Viktor's real face and half of his mask when Jayce reveals that Viktor was the mage all along. The mask does not fully come off until AFTER Jayce hugs Viktor in the astral plane and Viktor pulls away from the hug. Jayce's hug is why we're now able to see both of Viktor's eyes.

This whole journey with Viktor's eyes and the relationship between him and Jayce is very fascinating to me for several reasons:

Jayce took away Viktor's humanity by fusing the hexcore to him. But Jayce is also the same person that made Viktor realize that humanity was beautiful because of its flaws. He is the one that made Viktor human again, literally. Jayce is the reason why Viktor's eyes change color in the first place AND he is also the one that is responsible for them returning to their original color.

Jayce and Viktor spend a lot of time looking at each other throughout the show but ESPECIALLY in season two. The first thing Jayce does when he's actually reunited with Viktor after their initial separation and Jayce's trip to the bad au is STARE AT VIKTOR. Viktor looks so different and is floating in the air and all Jayce could do was stare at him. The next time they meet after this, Viktor tries to hold Jayce's eye contact in the astral plane but Jayce isn't in the astral plane with him. So instead of seeing Viktor's eyes Jayce just sees the cold face of someone Viktor turned into a machine. Jayce looks Viktor in the eye almost the entirety of their finale in the astral plane. The last thing Jayce and Viktor ever do in the show is look at each other AND they spend their final moments in the show facing each other but WITH THEIR EYES CLOSED!

Eye contact is very important to humans. Eyes in general are just really important to humans. Not only for the practical reason, to see things, but also on an emotional and spiritual level. "The eyes are the window to the soul." You can tell a lot about someone by the way their eyes look and how they look when they look at things. The pupils of our eyes grow and shrink based off what we're looking at and sometimes that dilation is in accordance to how much we like something. You can see in the finale that Jayce and Viktor's pupils are practically blown out they're so big. You can communicate a lot just by using your eyes, without ever saying a single word.

Jayce is never really aghast by Viktor's body no matter how horrific it looks because Jayce cares about Viktor. When he sees him on the brink of death in the council room and sees how his leg is glowing purple, his first thought isn't "what the fuck is wrong with Viktor's leg." His first thought is "I have to save Viktor from dying." When Jayce actually got Viktor to the lab and saw the entity of Viktor's body he wasn't thinking about how inhumane and wrong it looked. He was only thinking about how the hexcore better be able to fix Viktor. When Viktor is stable but unresponsive for several days after the transfusion, Jayce isn't thinking about Viktor's notes on his self experimentation or how Viktor's body had several runes carved into it. He was thinking about whether or not Viktor was okay. Whether or not Viktor was going to ever wake up. When Viktor DOES wake up and is entirely purple and shiny and able to walk without a mobility aid and stand up straight without a brace, his first thought is "what the fuck happened to me and to my body? What have I become am I still human what am I?" And Jayce's first thought to seeing a Viktor of purple, metallic flesh is "holy shit, it worked. It worked, Viktor is alive and awake and back." Towards the end of the show when Jayce sees the machine herald for the first time, he isn't terrified by the fact that Viktor is extremely tall and other worldly looking. He isn't disgusted by Viktor's third arm or distorted voice or lack of a face or his unnaturally slim waist. He doesn't even look phased or bothered at all. Instead, one of the first things he says upon seeing the machine herald is "there must be some part of you that's still in there." After this interaction, after Viktor and him fight and it seems like Viktor is going to take his life away from Jayce, Jayce STILL is adamant on the idea that Viktor, his friend, his partner of several years, is still alive. Jayce fully believes that Viktor is still within the machine herald and he has so much faith that he risks his own life and the lives of everyone else on his belief. As Viktor actually begins to turn Jayce into a machine, Jayce spends his last words telling Viktor about how his humanity is beautiful and how he still believes in Viktor. Jayce's wholehearted care for Viktor is what ends up saving everyone! Jayce sees Viktor's body go through horrific transformations throughout the season and it doesn't impact the way he views Viktor in the slightest. He saw the way Viktor's body looked and never asked a single question about it and never asked questions about Viktor's notes on self experimentation. So of course he's not phased by Viktor's eyes being a different color. Jayce is able to see Viktor's humanity even when Viktor doesn't look or act like a human.

But arguably the reason why I find this so fascinating, why I'm so intrigued that Jayce has no concern for the fact that Viktor's eyes are no longer yellow is because Viktor's eyes are arguably Viktor's most important feature TO JAYCE. Viktor's eyes and their color and their intensity is something that Jayce canonically has taken notice of and has found importance in. In the finale montage, we see a shot of Viktor from Jayce's perspective on the night they met. The shot is the exact shot used in the beginning of the show. When you compare the two shots, the one from act 1 s1 and the one from act 3 S2, they are IDENTICAL WITH ONLY ONE MAJOR EXCEPTION. VIKTOR'S EYES. Viktor's eyes in the shot used in the finale are MORE yellow, MORE intense, and more distinct than they were in the original shot at the start of the show. This shot is from Jayce's perspective, so it's showing us how Jayce perceived and remembered Viktor to be. This detail is the reason I even wanted to write this post. Viktor's eyes are clearly an aspect that Jayce pays attention to and yet he didn't utter a single word when he saw that they were completely different.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 9: Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you neve expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you're around him the more you hate him, but you can't help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team.  (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!) Soldier Boy calls the reader "Petals."

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Not in this chapter), Slow Burn, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Soft Ben/ Soldier Boy, Protective Ben/Soldier Boy

Word Count: 6.7K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual jokes, sexual tension, Nightmare, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Drowning, Mention of Vomiting, SUPER GROSS SUPERPOWER, Reader is really oblivious, and I mean REALLY oblivious. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: This chapter is just really fluffy and I didn't want to keep it to myself, because it makes me so happy. Well, after the first part at least.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Spotify Playlist 🪴

Rain glazed all the sharp edges of the world outside the car, smearing the drops against the windows with a heavy hand. The humid air breathed and iced the glass, but did not disrupt the droplets that raced quickly by, catching and sparkling in the sporadic streetlights along the twisting road.

Your mother was singing softly along to "Nights In White Satin", the haunting melody building with every note, your father's deep baritone weaving with hers to make a wonderful melody in the silence of the night. The smell of rain seeped through the ancient air conditioning, the heady scent of wet earth and clean water filling the cab of your family's car.

 You smile to yourself in the backseat, sleepy and content, tracing a single finger against the smudged glass to watch each raindrop race against the fogged glass. You could still taste the chocolate ice cream on the tip of your tongue from the cone your parents have bought you on the way home, your hands and cheeks sticky with the remains. The leather seats of your family car are worn in and soft beneath you from years of family trips all over the United States. There was still a loose marble rolling around back and forth with every gentle rock of the car as it moved smoothly over the wet roads, a comfort when you were a baby and you couldn't sleep and your parents drove around the block to send you into the sweet abyss.

The sharp plunk of rain against the windshield is heavy, but your father reaches to turn up the song on the radio, flicking his eyes to smile at your mother one final time. And as he glances back up he shouts something.

You can't hear what it is, only that when you look out the windshield you see a brilliant flash of white light coming straight for the car and feel the car jerk to the right as your father yanks on the wheel. There's an awful sound of concrete against metal, a high pitched screech that you can't forget followed by the almost inhuman scream of terror that comes from your mother's mouth, as the car breaks through the concrete side of the bridge and goes off the road.

There's an awful moment of weightlessness and when the car hits the water everything goes black.

You jolt upwards out of bed, screaming at the top of your lungs, chest heaving and gasping for air as the memory of water filling your lungs floors your senses. You shudder involuntarily, rocking back and forth as you try to shake off the memory of your parent's death.

No one really knew what happened that night, what the bright light was that you saw or where it came from. The detective said that it had to be lightning, but it hadn't looked like lightning to you. Your parents had drowned inside, but you survived. When the police arrived on the scene of the crash they found you on the bank of the river with the branches of the trees forming a protective cage around you. The back windshield of the car had been completely destroyed, blown inward when the trees along the bank had reached in to pull you out.

You always thought it was funny that somewhere deep down your powers took over, you weren’t  sure if it was when you blacked out or if you somehow forgot what happened in your parent's final moments, but all you knew was that you were alive because you called out for help and the trees answered.

A part of you still felt guilty. It had been your fault that you were out. There was a music recital at school, they'd come to support you, Darren had stayed home too busy doing homework to care. He was taking courses at the local community college, too involved in his own life to pay any attention to yours, except when he needed you. You weren't sure why the trees hadn't saved them too, why you were the only survivor.

You reach for your bedside table, scrambling in the darkness to find the inhaler that usually helps, before finally putting it to your lips and taking in a long puff.  It helps for a moment. Your heart was still beating fast, a cold sweat making your sleep shirt stick to your back, as another involuntary shudder works through your body, the sound of your mother's scream ringing in your ears.

You press your face into your knees trying to calm your breathing when your bedroom door snaps in half. Pieces of the door shoot through the air like shrapnel as Ben appears in the doorway, shirtless, wearing only a pair of black sweatpants holding one of the lamps from your living room.

"Ben what the fuck?" You scream, heart already feeling like it was going to burst out of your chest.

"What happened? What's going on? Why did you scream?" He shouts back, eyes darting around the room as if looking for invisible intruders.

"Get out of my room!" You shout.

"Not until you tell me what's going on." Ben's eyes fall on you once more and you watch the tension in his shoulders drop an inch. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." You lie taking in a deep breath, hoping that you can calm down your heart beat and that he's not paying attention to that.

He was.

"No, you’re not."

"Yes I am." You didn’t feel like doing this with him, didn’t feel like telling him exactly why you'd just woken up screaming or deal with him teasing you.

It had been a few days since the party and you had been trying your best to make things as normal between the two of you as you could, especially after you'd yelled at him. It had been more awkward the day after, not because of what you said to him, but because of what he yelled at you after the supe got away. He hadn't come back to the apartment until after you'd gone to bed and when you woke up on Sunday morning, Ben had gotten you coffee again when he went out to get a newspaper.

You figured that was his way of apologizing for yelling at you. That and he had insisted on walking to "Please Don't Die" with you on Monday and Tuesday morning, as if he thought that you were incapable of doing it yourself and then showed up when you got out of work at 5 to walk you back home. You didn't know how he figured out what time you got off of work, only that when he showed up to get you on Monday, he glared at Jake who was debating with you about which of Rory Gilmore's love interests was the best.

Jake had watched a few episodes with his younger sister when she visited him a few weeks ago to tour some of the colleges in New York, and she'd gotten him hooked. Annie and you had watched Gilmore Girls forever ago, but you'd started watching a few episodes now that it was fall and that meant you were being reminded of how much you obsessed over the show when you were younger.

Ben had stood there watching the two of you, noticing how close Jake was standing to you and how Jake seemed to smile even wider and how Jake spoke animatedly to you over the display of cactus all the while frowning and glaring daggers in the back of Jake's head.

You'd be lying if you said that you weren't reconsidering dating Jake. Ben had made it clear what he wanted and despite how much you were attracted to him, you knew that he didn't want to be what you wanted, and you didn't want to force Ben into something or try to turn him into something he wasn't. So you were trying to think about what it would be like dating Jake. He definitely had the kind of qualities you were looking for, he was one for relationships, he had the same sense of humor you did, he liked plants almost as much as you, he was kind and compassionate, and he had a warm smile.

The problem was you couldn't imagine what it would be like to date him and for some reason the thought of dating Jake didn't bring you as much joy as it would have a few weeks ago, and you had no idea why that was.

You also didn't know why Ben came to pick you up or forced himself to walk with you to work, especially if he hated Jake so much and hated being around Jake, but Ben did, and then bought you a cup of pineapple iced tea from your favorite shop around the corner from your apartment on the way home even though you insisted on paying for yourself. He thought that pineapple iced tea sounded disgusting, but because you liked proving him wrong, you'd let him have a sip and he'd grudgingly agreed that it wasn't "that bad," but then took another sip of it when you put it down on the kitchen counter for a second to pet Bean when he thought you weren't looking.

Honestly you didn't understand why he was so eager to walk with you to work or why he wanted to walk you back to the apartment. Not when Ben seemed to fill his life and all his time endless dates with the women of New York City, something that you noticed he hadn't done in the past three days since the party. You always figured he had better things to do than walk with you, and yet he had making somewhat pleasant conversation, well, pleasant for Ben which was not the same as pleasant for other people. But it wasn't terrible. He did occasionally tease you because you couldn't walk past a wilting plant without perking it up, but that was to be expected.

"No, you're not." Ben put the lamp down on the floor by your door. It didn’t have it's shade on it anymore and you figured that Ben had ripped it from the living room table when he heard you scream, throwing the shade to the floor when he kicked down your bedroom door.

The same door that was lying in pieces on the hardwood floor of your bedroom.

How am I going to explain that to the super?

"Yes-" You gasp for air and shove the inhaler in your mouth again to take another puff and this time it takes. "I am." You finish, swiping your free hand over your face to rid yourself of the tears, but for some reason they won't stop. "Please, Ben just go-" Your voice breaks for a moment and you bury your face into your knees again.

You really wanted him to go, didn't want to talk to him about this, didn't feel like putting up with his teasing or with his disgusting jokes, and didn't want him to make fun of you for using an inhaler, the same one you'd had prescribed by your doctor when he told you that your nightmares were causing panic attacks. You didn’t have to use it all the time, just when you had the dreams.

You feel the end of your bed dip and you glance up from your knees at Ben. He's sitting there, not quite looking at you, instead he's petting Bean where he was guarding over you as you slept.

"You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but I don't want to leave you when you're like this Petals." He says it more to the cat than to you, barely audible. Bean was leaning into Ben's hand as if Ben being in your bedroom, sitting on your bed was normal.

You suddenly feel like you’ve been struck by lightning. What he said was so honest so caring so completely unlike the Ben you knew that all you could do was stare at him. If anything the shock of what he said seemed to help you regulate your breathing and calm down from the images you had just seen in your nightmare.

Ben doesn’t say anything, just continues to rub Bean under his chin, sitting on the end of your bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world and as if he hasn’t said anything at all.

You stare at him for longer than you should, tracing the dips of his broad shoulders, the gentle freckles that graces his skin, and muscles as the taper down his back. You’d seen him shirtless before, but every time you’re unprepared for how good he looks.

Right now he looks, different. He looks softer.

You’re not sure if it’s because of the yellowed light from your bedside table lamp or if it’s because he’s petting Bean, but there's something about him that feels more open, as if he genuinely cares, and it makes you want to talk to him. You sit there for another few minutes calming your breathing, still holding on to your knees, but you prop your chin on your knee so you can look at him.

Why won't he leave? Why does he care so much that he wants to stay here?

Bean stands and saunters up the bed to press his head into your shin as if he's checking up on you. "Hey buddy." You whisper hoarsely, rubbing him behind his ears.

Ben turns his body, folding one of his legs under him and the other hangs off your bed so that his bare foot is sitting on the hardwood floor of your bedroom. He's watching you with an unreadable expression, eyes following the trail of your hand on Bean's back, but Ben does not break the silence.

"I have nightmares sometimes." You whisper. Bean's thick gray fur was falling through your fingertips in a comforting way, his luminous amber colored eyes looking up at you. "But I'm okay."

Ben still doesn't say anything.

The high pitched ring of the metal of the car on concrete makes you wince and he doesn't miss it. You watch his hand twitch as if he wants to touch you, but instead he lays it on the bed between the two of you, sinking into the soft comforter.

"I've never heard you scream like that before." Ben murmurs under his breath. "I thought that-"

You glance up at him, eyes wide.

He runs a hand through his hair nervously, as if he's uncomfortable continuing the conversation. "I thought that the supe was in here with you."

"The electric guy?"

Ben nods once.

"No I don't think he's in here. Unless he's hiding under the bed or something." You smile weakly at the joke, but you can still feel the jolt of the car hitting the water and the sharp snap of the seatbelt cutting into your chest. This time you successfully fight the shudder.

Ben doesn't smile. "The nightmares aren't about him are they? Or when I-" He stops mid sentence eyes flicking away from you, ashamed.

You understood what he was asking. Ben and you, like any modern day meet cute, had met mid-fight, the night that Butcher took him to Vought to take down Homelander. Back then you hadn't been working for Butcher, you'd showed up with Annie, and when Ben advanced on her you'd shoved Annie out of the way from his outstretched hands.

You hadn't been fast enough to escape yourself and he had hauled you up into the air by your throat, his chest glowing a dangerous orange spreading up through his skin until it turned his eyes a molten gold. Your hands had held on to his wrists so tight that you felt like your skin was burning and you were desperately trying to think of a way out of this. But just as you thought he was going to explode, his eyes had locked on yours and you watched something move through them that wasn’t rage. Ben had thrown you across the room and gone after Butcher instead.

"Is that why you didn't want me to move in?" Ben's gaze is on you, something deep buried in his eyes that looks a lot like regret. "Because you're afraid of me? Because I hurt you?”

“Ben, no. I’m not afraid of you.” You touch his hand where it rests on the bed gently. He had hurt you. The bruising around your neck for the few weeks that followed was ugly and had to be covered up with turtlenecks and foundation to avoid people on the street asking you if you needed help.

But it hurt you more to know that he thought that you were afraid of him and that he worried about that. Because you weren’t afraid of Ben. Yes he lost his temper and would yell very loudly and always felt the need to scream his opinion to the world, but you didn’t think that he was a bad guy despite what he had done. If you had been afraid of him then you wouldn’t have let him stay with you in your apartment, let alone live with your cat.

He looks relieved when you say it. “Then what are they about?”

“I-“ You swallow, before dropping your gaze back to your knees. You retract your hand, but Ben turns his over, palm up and gently holds yours, not quite squeezing it, just laying beneath yours.

What in the actual fuck is happening?

You glance down at where he’s holding your hand, the warmth from his body comforting like the first day of summer, seeping through your body as it does to take away the chill the nightmare left behind. It seemed a little awkward for him, as if he wasn't sure what to do now that your hand was laying on top of his. He wasn't even entwining your fingertips together, but your fingers just barely curved over the thick muscle at the base of his thumb. His hand was bigger than yours, rough and worn in just the right places.

“It’s about my parents.” The words feel like cotton in your mouth. “The night they died.”

"Oh."

You bite the inside of your cheek. You weren't sure that you wanted to talk to him about this. You'd never wanted to talk to anyone about it. The only person you'd ever spoken about it with outside of your family was Annie. But he was here, and he was looking at you differently, and he was actually holding your hand, sort of, and he was acting so different than any time you'd spent together.

"I was twelve. It was raining and we were coming home from a music recital." You couldn't remember what it was you sang, just remember the people coming up to congratulate you and the large bundle of gardenias that your parents had bought you. "My dad was driving and they were singing in the front seat together."

You felt the tears begin to build behind your eyes, throat closing. You can't really look up at him now, all you do is stare at where his hand sits under yours. " We were crossing over a bridge and there was this brilliant flash of light, my dad swerved and the car went off the road."

Ben's hand finally curls around yours. "You were in the car?" His voice is lower now, emotion lacing his words. 

You nod once. "In the backseat." You whisper. "I can't really remember what happened after we hit the water, all I know is that the trees saved me."

"What?"

"I don't know if I somehow called to them as I was drowning, but they broke through the back windshield and pulled me out of the car, but my parents-" Your voice breaks and you don't try to finish the sentence.

Why am I telling him this? He doesn't care. All he wants is-

"I'm sorry." Ben murmurs, interrupting your chain of thought, sounding sincere.

You shrug. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

Ben raises his free hand to tilt your chin up to face him, and you quickly get lost in the greenish glow that draws you in each time he looks at you. "Don't be sorry for that y/n. I'd rather be wrong and you be okay, than sleep through you screaming like that." Ben swallows. "I didn't like it." You watch the ends of his lips twitch for a second and he smiles. "And we both know how much I like to hear women scream my name.”

Despite the conversation you'd have previously, you snort and smile faintly. "Have you always been like this? Or is it a recent development?"

Ben shrugs, thumb rubbing just barely over your cheekbone. "I like to think of myself as charming."

"Of course you do."

"You don't think I'm charming Petals?"

"Nope."

"Still a bad liar." He laughs releasing your jaw to gently touch the scrunched skin between your eyebrows that gave away your lie.

"I don't really think you're that great at lying either." You roll your eyes, swatting away his hand. "At least I can pretend to like people."

"I can pretend to like people-"

"Oh really? Then what about Jake."

At the mention of Jake's name, Ben frowns.

"See!" You smile wide. "I don't understand why you don't like him."

"He's annoying. No one is that happy Petals. He’s probably been drinking the Koolaid for too long and is trying to get you to join a cult. The pussy is practically part golden retriever." Ben rolls his eyes, but then notices you yawn. "I should go." He stands, letting go of your hand as he does. "You need your beauty sleep."

You fight the disappointment that blooms in your chest as he lets go and the immediate loss that comes when he lets go of you scares you. You're afraid of how you seem to be so attached to him, to someone who has told you countless times he doesn't want a relationship, doesn't believe that you need a strong emotional connection with someone else, and someone who said that the only thing he wanted from a woman was to fuck them.  That last part stung a bit. You remember when he said it to you, when you were looking over the map at the other apartment last week.

But why would he say something like that and act like this with me? Why did he come in here to save me from the supe?

"I think you could use some beauty sleep too Gramps. Without it, you look your age. Can't hide all those wrinkles under make-up." You half-smile when Ben sighs, before you pull your hands into your lap and  cross your legs beneath you. "But, thanks for-well- making sure that no one was murdering me."

"It's what roommates are for." Ben pauses in the doorway before he leaves, the light from the hallway reflecting off the strong muscles of his upper back. His body sways, considering if he should say what he's about to. "I -uh- I get them too." He whispers it.

"What?"

"Nightmares." You see the tension in his shoulders, the word muttered almost like a curse, as if he doesn't really want to admit that.

Your body freezes. "About the lab?"

He looks down and you take that as a yes.

You could only imagine what that was like for him, to be trapped in another country, thinking every day that someone he thought he loved would come find him, but then never did. Again the idea of what Countess did to him, burns hot in your chest. It broke you to think that Ben spent all that time wishing and hoping that she would come for him. You would have. You would have fought tooth and nail to find the man you loved, even if it meant you getting trapped in the process. Not trying wasn't an option in your mind.

Honestly, it was difficult not to come up behind him and hug him, to hold him close and let him know that it was okay to break, that it was okay for him to admit those things with you, and that it didn't make you see him as less than a man. But of course that seemed more like a relationship thing than a friendship thing, not to mention you thought if you tried to do that, Ben would probably somehow get you in the same position you were three days ago when he pinned you against the car with his warm body pressed against you in all the right places and his beard tickling against the sensitive skin of your neck. And that would only send the two of you reeling back to square one, and you thought that in the past three days things seemed to be better between the two of you, more casual and more friendly.

You didn't want to ruin that when you'd practically embarrassed yourself at the party by yelling at Ben outside. So you stay in your bed, your legs still underneath your comforter, your heart no longer pounding in your chest, and your breathing even.

"Well," You say slowly. "If you have one, you know where to find me."

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes a little wider than usual and you think that he almost looks surprised. Ben nods once and vanishes down the dark hallway going back out to your living room.

You lie back in your bed, placing your inhaler on your bedside before you do, eyes focused on the ceiling and trying not to think about how good it felt to finally talk like two normal people with Ben and trying not to think about how he let you hold on to his hand.

You drag yourself through the front door of your apartment, exhausted, sweaty, and feeling like you'd swum through a dumpster that had been sitting in the sun for a week. You knew for a fact that you smelled, you didn't need super senses for that. The look of the people that lined the sidewalks of New York while you squished down the sidewalk and up into your apartment building was enough of a clue. Everyone had given you a wide berth and you didn’t blame them. MM even rolled down the window of his car when he drove you back. And he’d made you change your clothes into a set of gym shorts and a t-shirt that reached your knees and proudly proclaimed “I love you daddy” on it.

Yeah. It was that kind of day.

MM also made you sit with a plastic bag over your head to avoid smearing the remnants of the supe that was matted in your hair onto his seats.

When you woke up to answer your phone this morning, that was blasting the UK's national anthem aka. Butcher's ringtone, you knew that your day was going to suck. He had proclaimed over the phone loudly, because Mike had already started to screech Beyonce's "Love On Top,” that he needed you to deal with a supe. You thought that he was going to send you after the electric supe, but no, he and MM had caught a whiff of a supe that was robbing banks with his ability to liquify and turn his body into an tomato colored gelatinous mass.

I know, lovely right?

But of course, Butcher had decided that you were the one for the job and so he sent MM and you, while Ben was assigned to something else on the other side of town. The mission had gone wrong in the worst way, when the supe decided that the only way to fight you was to try and drown you in his liquified flesh, bone, and sinew.

When you'd finally scattered his body in the Hudson, you'd vomited for ten minutes, trying to expel as much of the supe as you could, but you still felt disgusting. MM had tried to be supportive, but the sight of you vomiting sent him hurtling to the nearest trashcan while his own stomach heaved. Not to mention  Butcher had chewed out the both of you good for technically "killing the supe."

But you'd rather the supe died than have to go through that ordeal all over again.

You'd tried to get as much of the orangey-red goo off of your body as possible, but it stained your clothes, so you had to walk through New York city looking like a giant bucket of paint was dropped on you and feeling sticky.

You turn around and lean your forehead against the front door with a loud sigh, trying to catch your bearings before you attempt to make it to the bathroom. You were happy that Mike hadn’t come out of his apartment. You didn’t want to have to explain to him why you looked like you’d taken a bath in tomato soup. Every few minutes you'd get a whiff of yourself and feel the urge to throw up all over again, living in the moment of the supe trying to shove his liquified body down your throat.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Ben asks from the charcoal couch, a blunt perched between his lips.

The living room had already started to look like his bedroom back at the other apartment, pieces of his dirty clothing were spread over your hardwood floors, old beer bottles were sitting on your coffee table, and there was a collection of half-smoked blunts in a large ceramic pot that you were letting Ben use as an ashtray. The room was still yours though. The plants on the walls and in pots around the space had not been harmed by Ben's habitation of your apartment. You wondered if that was because Ben actually was trying to respect your rules or if he was afraid you would throw him out.

I'm going to buy him a hamper. The last thing I want is to step on his dirty underwear on my way into the kitchen.

"The next time Butcher calls, tell him I died." You groan moving into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water.

He turns his head to stare at you. "Is that paint?"

"Nope." You shudder taking a sip from the water bottle, swishing it around your mouth to wash out the taste.

"Then what is it?"

"It's the supe. He was disgusting." You shudder and take another sip of water. It was helping a little bit, but you eat a handful of raspberries to try and get rid of the aftertaste. "I can still taste him."

Ben smirks. "You can still taste him? What part of him did you put in your mouth?"

"Don't be disgusting." You groan. "His power was liquification, okay, he could liquify his entire body-"

"Did you swallow?" He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"This is why we don't talk." You narrow your eyes at Ben. "He liquified himself and tried to drown me by shoving himself down my throat."

"Drown you?" Ben sits up straighter. "Are you okay?" You watch something shift through his gaze that looks a lot like worry.

Why is he worried?

"I'm fine." You hold up a hand and watch him relax and take a hit from the blunt. "But worst superpower ever."

"I don't know, kinda sounds like a fun way to get to know someone-"

"He was an idiot. He thought that whatever he lost would replenish."

"Wait what?"

"Whatever he 'drowned' me with didn't reform on his body. So he shoved himself down my esophagus and then he couldn't figure out why he was missing a hand, didn't think about stomach acid. Idiot." You roll your eyes. "But we couldn't contain him and the only thing that I could think of was to dump him in the Hudson. He wasn't strong enough to keep himself together in the current of the bay, it’s gonna take him centuries to piece himself back together." You shake your head. "What have you been doing? I thought you had a hot Tinder date or whatever."

He'd mentioned it this morning when you saw him briefly and grabbed a granola bar on the way out of the apartment. You hadn't spoke much since last night or really had time to talk about what happened, if anything did happen. All he did was let you hold his hand and -well- kick down your mother fucking door.

You weren't looking forward to sleeping without a door, it was the only thing that separated Ben and you, the only thing that gave you a little privacy. You figured that you could just hang one of the crocheted blankets over the doorway, but you were exhausted.

Ben shrugs, letting out a lungful of smoke. "Thought I'd just relax tonight. Didn't feel like going out."

"You didn't feel like going out? Mr. Casual-?" You begin to say, eyes sweeping through the apartment and looking down the dark hallway, stopping on your bedroom doorway.

Instead of the broken mess it was this morning, a new door has replaced it. It's a beautiful dark red wood that matches the floors that run through your apartment, different than the white one that had been there previously.

"Mr. Casual?" Ben asks while raising an eyebrow, clearly confused.

You were going to call him 'Mr. Casual Sex' but you couldn't finish the thought.  "Did you fix my door?"

"Huh?"

"My door." You point down the hallway, eyes shifting back to Ben, who looks suddenly uncomfortable. "The one you broke in half."

"Yeah- uh- I know how much you like your privacy." Ben grunts looking back at the flat screen tv. There was a baseball game on, but the T.V was on mute, the blue light flickering around the small room.

You suddenly have the overwhelming urge to cry. You figured that it was everything from today crashing down on you, the frustration you had with the supe, the smell, and now Ben was actually doing something nice for you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He still doesn’t look at you and you wonder if he's embarrassed that you pointed it out.

“Well I think I’m going to try to scrub whatever the hell this is off of me.” You say as you begin to walk down the dark hallway and Ben continues to watch the game.

“Wait Petals I’ve got something important to ask you.”

You look up at him expectantly.

“How much do you love your daddy?” His smile slips into a suggestive smirk. “Would you be willing to do anything  to keep him happy?”

“Shut up Gramps.” You flip him off and squish down the hallway to the bathroom.

When you get out of the shower you're missing several layers of skin. You'd scrubbed and scrubbed until you felt red and raw, but it was better than feeling the sticky remains of the supe all over your body. The clothes you wore were ruined and there was no saving them, but at least now you felt better.

You walk back out into the kitchen wearing a soft t-shirt and sweatpants. Ben was still sitting on the couch, but the blunt was gone. You hadn’t noticed before that his dark hair was wet, as if he had taken a shower before you got to the apartment, the smell of his shampoo was strong.

"There's pizza in the fridge." Ben glances over the back of the couch. "Much better Petals, orange is not your color. But I will say I miss the t-shirt.”

"I'm just happy that it didn't permanently stain my skin." You make your way to the fridge to pull out a slice of pizza, eating it slowly. "And very happy I didn't wear my favorite pair of jeans. I'm going to have to burn my clothes I think."

"I'm just happy you smell better." He wrinkles his nose. "Before you smelled like unwashed gym clothes and a fucking yeast infection."

"Thank you for that lovely comparison."

"You're welcome Petals." Ben presses his lips together. "Did you want to-" He pauses. "Watch a movie or something?"

"Oh, um-" You glance down the hallway. You really wanted to curl up with your newest romance novel under your covers and relax, possibly with a cup of calming blueberry tea.

Ben shakes his head. "Just fucking forget it-" He almost seemed angry with himself for suggesting something like that.

"Ben no. I do want to watch a movie with you, I just-" Your eyes flick to the t.v watching one of the baseball players hits a home run. "I kinda wanted to relax with some tea and read. I just got a new book and I haven't been able to start it yet. Annie and I are reading the same one and on Friday we're gonna have book club and I really need to decompress from everything that happened today." You say it gently, trying to let him understand that you wouldn't be opposed to the idea of watching something with him.

"Oh." Ben sits there for a moment considering what you said. "Well, do you want to sit out here? I know you don't exactly-" He clears  his throat. "Have a place to sit in your bedroom."

If Ben wasn’t living with you, you would be reading on the couch. Sitting in your living room surrounded by all of you plants always helped you relax. You hadn’t been able to do that since Ben moved in, not to mention you didn't want to encroach on his space.

“I mean if you’re watching T.V I don’t want to disturb you or anything-“ As soon as you say it, Ben hits the off button on the remote.

“I didn’t get to read the paper this morning and I’ve been trying to find the time all day.” He says, pulling the folded newspaper out from where it was folded and pushed up against the arm of the couch on his right side.

“Oh. Well. Um-“ You didn’t see anything wrong with sitting out here and reading with Ben. “Okay. I’ll just grab my book then.”

“Okay.” Ben breezes, before he glances at the left side of the couch where you would be sitting. The couch was in its upright position, which means it was more couch than bed, but Ben had stacked his blankets and pillows on the other side. “I’ll move my stuff.”

“Okay.” You say again because you weren’t really sure what to say.

You go back and grab the book from your bedside table, but stop just short of the door.

This is weird.

You think to yourself, holding the book tightly by its spine. You weren’t sure what was happening only that Ben and you were going to sit together on the couch in your living room quietly with no tv. And weirder still it was him that suggested you two do it.

He turned off the tv. He asked me to sit with him and suggested something non-sexual. You pause shifting from foot to foot. Because again Ben was confusing you. He was acting like the person you'd occasionally see when it was just the two of you, and it made you anxious. You didn’t want him to do this, to pretend to be someone you wanted just to get into your pants. It was like whiplash. Not to mention you didn't want Ben to force himself to change just for you.

Maybe… Maybe I can just go out there and pretend that this is normal and that he doesn’t just use women for sex like he told me. I will not overthink this. I will sit and read just like I planned.

You come out of your bedroom armed with your favorite crocheted granny-square blanket and the new book. Ben had cleared the left side of the sofa for you as he said he would and was now sitting with his newspaper spread out in front of him, one leg crossed over the other.

“Do you want some tea?” You ask him. You were just being polite, you knew that he would probably say no.

“Pineapple?” He actually kind of perked up as if he would have some if you made it.

“No it’s blueberry.”

Ben shakes his head. “Why do you like so many fruit teas?”

“Because they’re good and they enrich my life.” You snort before placing the book and the blanket on the couch next to Ben and go through the motions of making the tea. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“You’d be right. But could you pour me a glass of scotch?”

“Sure.”

When you’re finally hunkered down with your book and blanket, legs bent at the knee between the two of you, the book propped up on them, facing Ben with the right side of your head laying against the back of the couch, you feel yourself begin to relax. Bean is sleeping in a ball between the two of you. His soft breathing and the sound of pages being turned fills your apartment. The subtle thrum of the plants in the room soaks into your bones and you feel yourself begin to slip into the soft prose and for the first time in a long time you feel at peace. 

A/N: Annnnnddddd we're just gonna keep the Sky High References coming. Maybe the next supe they meet will glow… or turn into a guinea pig? 😅 Is it wrong that it's kinda making me want to do a Superhero High School AU with the Boys characters? That would be so crazy! I already have several other series fic ideas for Soldier Boy, but that idea is definitely going on the list to be considered.

As always thank you so much for reading and all the love and support! If you would like to be added to my taglist please let me know! 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @corruptedcruiser @winchesterwild78 @the-super-who-locked-wizard

@criminalyetminimal @52ndstreeet @bitchykittenconnoisseur @anna6307 @libby99hb

@faephoria @possiblyafangirl @jqtaro @quietlybitchy @tinydancer40

@roger-that-cap @megara0224 @miskwaadesiwag @rainyeggvoidpurse

@soldiergrimes @tiffsbagels @podiumackles

@ifyouwerethemoon @ririshkin @peachhiz @fitxgrld @sukunassfinger

@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @ej13928 @deans-spinster-witch @kr804573 @modiddys-blog

@acciosherlockholmes @minas-fantasies @fireskyy

@n-o-p-e-never @nesnejwritings @am0rem @tpwkcalli @momggn

@fitxgrld @whimsicalcherry @ladysparkles78

@spxideyver

[kwanisms]

Kinktober 「10:30」 — b.seungkwan

» seventeen menu | seungkwan menu | kinktober masterlist «

➮ gorgon!Seungkwan × fem!Reader wc: — summary: Seungkwan is the youngest of three siblings and the only male gorgon in his family. Probably due to his half-human heritage on his father’s side. He’s lucky that his appearance is much more human than his sisters’. Although he looks mostly normal there are still some things that aren’t quite… human. His inhuman strength and other snake-like features set him apart from the rest, so why his best friend and roommate likes him so much, he doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he’s madly in love with Y/N. genres/themes/au: angst, smut; supernatural, horror, thriller; non idol au, monster idol au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, supernatural and horror themes, MORE TBD; sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut! taglist has been moved to reblogs join my taglists! kinktober taglist is CLOSED! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you.  MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this could have been longer but tbh i’m tired of Kinktober lmao i’m ready for it to end already. I love Seungkwan and I would love to write something longer for him like he deserves but I don’t have the time anymore. I’ll make it up to him another time. Thank you for reading and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: teratophilia (aka monsterfucking), shower sex (this is dangerous. Proceed with caution), drunk sex (unless previously discussed, do not do this either), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (use protection!), no one is dom or sub they’re just hella whipped for one another, use of pet names (hers: baby, darling, angel, etc.; his: babe, Kwannie, love, etc.), I think I got everything but of course, let me know if I missed some! kinks: Shower sex + drunk sex dialogue prompt: ❛❛ We’re not just friends and you fucking know it. ❜❜

═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════

“But, we’re friends,” Seungkwan,” you whispered, back pressed against the white tiled wall of your shower as your best friend stood in front of you, hands resting against the cool tile as the hot stream water cascaded down to the mat, splashing your feet. The only thing shielding you from your best friend’s gaze was a thin towel that barely covered anything.

Seungkwan’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at you. You weren’t sure what the driving force behind his actions was. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the years of pent up love and adoration he only just spilled out of mouth in the confines of your small bathroom. His confession came as a shock to you although, if you looked back, it only made all of his past actions make all the more sense to you.

But you couldn’t take a trip down memory lane right now, now when you were staring into the bright, almost glowing, green eyes of your best friend. Eyes that looked at you with a mixture of frustration, love, and another emotion you never expected to come from Seungkwan.

Lust.

The night had started innocently enough, attending a simple house party with your best friend. The night had gone as expected, drinking whatever mixed drinks Seungkwan made for you because he refused to let anyone else do it, downing a few shots and joining a couple rounds of whatever party games were going on. The night ended quickly for you when you couldn’t get up alone after a round of Truth or Drink and Seungkwan had to all but haul you out of the living room, very nearly carrying you out of the house.

Seungkwan didn’t exactly look like he possessed a lot of strength but looks were deceiving with your best friend. He was the product of a human and a gorgon falling in love and marrying. His sisters had taken after their mother, inheriting her snake-like attributes but Seungkwan on the other hand took after his father, only his eyes a physical give away to his half monster nature.

He didn’t mind, in fact glad that he could pass for human. It also meant he didn’t have to wear special blinders and be confined to the house as he didn’t inherit the Gaze like his sisters did. He could make direct eye contact and not have serious repercussions. He was also the only person who could look his mother directly in the eye and not be affected.

His human nature meant he wasn’t tormented or heavily bullied like some of the other less than human looking classmates. He also was a child who never took shit from anyone. One of the reasons you liked him so much. He made it his role to stand up to the bullies and look out for his fellow non human classmates. This made him extremely popular with the other kids as well as he stood up to all bullies, not just playground ones.

As he grew up, he gained more and more popularity due to his good looks, kind nature, and friend disposition. Despite how popular he became, he never let that go to his head. Well, not too much. He always made time for you and insisted you were his only true friend.

He wasn’t sure when the line blurred and he started loving you but he just knew one day, you weren’t just a friend to him. He wanted more with you but he never spoke out. He was far too shy and afraid of you rejecting him so he stayed silent for years until that night. The night he finally let it all out and confessed his true feelings and what he really thought about you.

After returning to your apartment, you had said you wanted to take a shower. Normally Seungkwan would wait on the couch and watch TV or play a game on his phone but you insisted he sit on the toilet with the lid down and keep you company while you showered.

He knew it was a bad idea, being that close to you when you were vulnerable on the other side of a thin sheet of vinyl and fabric. He should have just said no and sat on the couch like he usually did but he wasn’t thinking clearly. Neither of you were.

And so there he was, sitting on the toilet while you chatted about the most mundane things until you made an offhand comment about your shower head and how you were so glad you replaced the standard shower head in the apartment with this one you had gotten online. It had more settings than the standard one, was detachable, and came in handy when you needed to get yourself off.

That was the comment that had Seungkwan’s breath catching in his throat, his cock twitching in his pants and his heart racing. The idea of you in the shower, using the pulse setting to pleasure yourself. It made him bite his tongue almost hard enough to make him bleed. You had noticed he’d gone silent, cause of course you did, and asked him if he was still awake.

Seungkwan had to take several deep breaths before finally answering that he was awake and that he needed to leave. You whined, asking him to stay, insisting that he stay, asking him what was wrong and that was when he snapped, blurting out the sentences that would change your lives forever.

“How can you expect me to stay after saying something like that? How can you expect me to sit here and pretend like I’m not imagining you doing that right now? How can you expect me to sit still when all I want to do is rip this curtain open and take you against the shower wall?”

Initially you wanted to laugh it off but something in his voice told you he wasn’t kidding. You grabbed a towel, holding it over your chest and letting it fall to cover your mound before pulling back the curtain to peer out at him. “Are you being serious?” you asked. Seungkwan looked up, eyes meeting yours and he quickly turned away, averting his eyes.

“Don’t,” he grunted. “I can’t look at you right now. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

You weren’t sure if you weren’t taking him seriously or just being stupid but you pulled back into the shower and challenged him. “Maybe you shouldn’t stop yourself.” In an instant, Seungkwan had gotten up, pulling back the curtain abruptly which led to where you were at that moment, back against the tiled wall as he caged you in, ignoring the water splashing his clothes.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it,” Seungkwan said under his breath.

He wasn’t entirely wrong. There had been some… experimentation in your youth. You both had agreed to keep it a secret but when you were around the age that you started learning about yourselves, there had been a lot of talk, stolen kisses. It had been mostly innocent but when you were older, in college, it had continued. Neither of you had dated in high school, only spending time with one another outside of school events.

You managed to get a dorm to yourself when your assigned roommate dropped out just before classes started. Seungkwan would come over to your dorm most of the time to study but you didn’t get much studying done. You’d never gone all the way but there were times where you ended up straddling him, tongues meeting in a frantic mess as you grinded against him until one or both of you came in your pants.

There had also been times where Seungkwan’s hands wandered when he had you on your back, fingers slipping into your panties to touch and explore your bodies. You never dated, never went out once, and yet throughout college, you fooled around a fair few times. Yet you both always introduced one another as your friend. But friends didn’t do that, right?

Your eyes watched Seungkwan’s dip down to your lips quickly before you reached up, your wet hand curling into his hair. “You’re right,” you murmured. “We aren’t just friends.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, your lips meeting in a very practiced dance. This was familiar for you. Kissing Seungkwan was familiar. You let out a sigh as his lips kissed across your cheek to your ear. “I want to take my time with you,” he muttered. “But I can’t wait. I’m sorry.”

Your hands moved, pulling at his shirt, untucking it so you could help him pull it off, tossing it to the floor. The rush to get him undressed left your towel forgotten and it slumped to the floor, landing on the mat where the shower water started to soak it. Seungkwan kicked his pants off before rejoining you in the shower, tugging the curtain back to block the rest of the bathroom as he guided you under the stream of hot water, drops cascading down both your bodies as his hands grabbed your hips.

“Do you trust me?” he asked as he backed you against a different tile wall. You nodded as you looked at him. He leaned in, pressing a much softer kiss to your lips before he started to slowly kiss down your body as he lowered himself to his knees. You watched as he lifted one of your thighs over his shoulder, glancing up at you briefly before pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the inside of your thigh, moving closer and closer to your aching heat.

You let out a gasp as he nipped at the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you felt his tongue lick against your clit. “F-fuck,” you cursed, head falling back against the hard tile, eyes sliding shut as Seungkwan’s tongue moved over your most sensitive parts. This was new territory with him. You’d never gone this far before and you were regretting not doing it sooner.

“Kwannie,” you moaned as he teased your clit with his tongue. “I need m-more.” You stumbled over your words. “Need your c-cock.” Your cheeks burned as Seungkwan licked and sucked at your clit, the shower barely covering up the lewd sounds.

He pulled back, looking up at you. “So impatient?” he muttered as he slowly got up, lowering your leg back down. “Fine,” he said as his hands moved up to your hips. “But remember, you begged for this,” he added as he turned you around to face the wall, pulling your hips back and making your back arch. “But I wanna see,” you whined as he guided the head of his cock to your entrance.

You heard him chuckle from behind you as he rubbed the tip against your folds. “If you think I’m not going to spend all night fucking you in your bed after this, you don’t truly know me,” he said as he pushed into you, groaning as he very quickly slid in until all of his cock was nestled deeply in your cunt, your warm walls wrapping around him, hugging him tightly.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he groaned, resting his forehead against your back as he leaned over, ignoring the stream of water falling over the both of you. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” You pushed back against him, urging him to move. “Kwannie, please,” you begged. “Please fuck me.”

Seungkwan let out a breathless chuckle as he stood up straight, his grip on your hips tightening. “Oh don’t worry, angel,” he said as he pulled out slightly, thrusting into you roughly and shutting you up immediately, only a moan leaving your lips.

“I plan to.”

©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part Pilot

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies you also die. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

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

The hair on the back of my neck rose half a second before something hard hit my head. I couldn't see anything but I could still feel when I hit the pavement. I rolled onto my back and tried to kick up at whoever was there.

Multiple hands grabbed me and dragged my across the hard ground. I felt my strength slowly coming back with my sight. There wasn't much to see as three dark figures towered above me. My back cracked when they slammed me into the wall.

One of them grabbed my jaw and dug their fingers into my cheek. I tried clenching my teeth but they easily pried my mouth open. I tried flicking my wrist but the rocks under my feet barely moved. They had hit my head so I couldn't use my magic. Now they were trying to drug me. Keep a mage discombobulated or high and they can't use their magic.

One of them had their entire weight on my legs and the other had my arms pinned against my side. They slipped a powder past my lips and clamped my mouth shut. I took a deep breath before they pinched my nose. I had only seconds before I passed out and they could get the rest of the powder down my throat. It was already soaking into my tongue and cheeks. I tried scrapping it against my teeth.

The weight on my feet disappeared. I tried kicking them but there was nothing but air. I pulled my leg up and dug my heel in their groin. They fell back and slammed into the wall behind them at an inhuman speed. I reached for the last attacker's eyes and dig my nails in. He let go and jumped over me as if to run. I immediately spat on the ground and wiped my tongue with the back of my hand.

I looked around at the dark alley. Everything was starting to double, the colors a wild red and blue. Some of it had gotten into my system. I saw two men laying still on the ground, the other running for the bright road. Something flew past my face and strikes him dead center in the back of his head. His body fell limp.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

I turned over my shoulder to see Alastor, the Radio Demon, towering above me. His eyes seemed to glow in the dark alley and his coat was as red as blood. I knew he was tall but he looked even more terrifying in person. His long, red fingers were outstretched in a kind gesture.

"What do you want?" I demanded.

"Is that any way to treat your savior?" He moved his hand closer, edging me to accept his offer.

"Why would you help me?" I rubbed the back of my head and winced. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. He stood a full head taller than me but he seemed oddly skinny. He didn't have the muscle I had.

"I know rumors deem me a dark light, but I can assure you I'm still a gentleman at heart. How could I let those fools continue their assault?" He wiped his hand on his coat as if I had some kind of germ or disease on me.

"I didn't ask for the help so I'm in no way obligated to do anything you ask," I said. I looked down to examine my hands because that was better than staring at his terrifying eyes. I lost my balance and fell backwards into the wall.

He grabbed my wrist and roughly pulled it up. I tried pulling it back but he held on painfully tight. I could picture him using his sharp teeth to slice it off in one bite. But he didn't. He dropped my hand and grabbed my chin next. He turned my head as if examining my neck. I tilted my head back and pulled away. I slammed into the wall again but tripped on my own feet, landing right on my tailbone.

He leaned down and grabbed my face again. I tried digging my nails into his wrist but my strength had disappeared. The drug was taking full effect now. "Let go of me, demon," I spat. He used his other hand and dragged a claw down my cheek. I cried and tried pushing him away with my feet. He stepped back, his smile never fading. I covered my bloody cheek and stared him down.

I had managed to stay free for five years. I wasn't about to fall into another mage's trap. I wasn't going to go back. I would rather die trying to escape the Radio Mage than go back. I knew his patience was thin and nothing immoral was off the table for him.

He reached up and touched his cheek, his claws coming back with a dark liquid. He looked down at his fingers before slowly meeting my eyes. That's when it clicked. I felt a rush of cold reality over my body. Matching cuts. A soulmate match.

I put both hands in the ground and pushed myself up. I ran down the alley, jumping over my attacker, and bolted for my home. I tripped several times but nothing was going to stop me. People stared at me as if I had seen a ghost. They didn't know that I had seen worse.

Everything hurt by the time I reached my apartment. I hadn't seen him since the alley so I hoped that meant I had lost him. I fumbled with my keys, struggling for several minutes to get the small key into the lock. I fell into my apartment and slammed the door shut with my feet. I turned the lock and crawled into the corner of the living room. I hugged my legs and stared into the dark apartment. Everything was spinning and unnatural colors jumped out at me. I felt jittery, like everything inside me was buzzing.

I stayed there for several minutes, waiting for the inevitable knock at the door. What was I thinking? I had just led the most powerful mage on this side of the country to my doorstep. I should've hid somewhere else. He of all people could follow someone without being noticed.

The only tell of time was the old clock on the fireplace mantle. I stayed in the corner for nearly forty-minutes, unmoving. Time seemed to be past uncharacteristically fast. I blamed the drugs on that. How long before this wore off, again? It wasn't the first time I had ingested this type of drug. It was the drug they used to keep mages from using their magic.

I finally found the courage to stand. I flipped the light switch and walked along the wall to the bathroom. I fell against the sink, clinging to the edge just to keep myself up. For such a small amount it was having a huge effect on me. Had the drug gotten stronger or had it been that long since it was used on her?

I turned on the faucet and gulped down the cool water. I splashed my face and tired to blink away the bright colors. No amount of drinking or splashing could return me to my normal state. I practically choked on the water and finally turned it off, grabbing the towel off the rack and pressing it to my face. I carefully straightened my feet and tried standing up. I felt more sturdy on my feet now. This meant that I had passed the peak of the drug. I was on the hill down to my normal state.

I let out a sigh and hung up the towel. I looked at my red eyes and saw another pair behind me. I screamed and spun a cast back at him. I slipped and fell into the old tub. I slipped into the corner with my hand outstretched. The faucet dug into my spine. He practically glided into the small room.

"Don't come closer!" I yelled. "My accuracy gets better every time."

"Your Slight magic stands no chance against me," he mused, "but I appreciate the confidence."

"The fuck do you want?" I demanded again.

"Should it surprise you that I want to meet my soulmate?" He tilted his head to the side.

"If you kill me you also die," I reminded him.

He chuckled. "I know how the magic of soulmates work, my dear." He stepped close and held out a hand to me. "If I wanted you dead, I would have done so already." The deepening of his tone didn't make me want to accept his gesture any more than already. "I'd like to have a civil conversation, if you don't mind."

It was another moment before I slowly laid my hand on top of his. He was careful to wrap his claws around my hand and didn't roughly pull me to my feet this time. I stepped out of the tub and let him lead me out of the room. He finally let go of my hand, gliding to the small fireplace and lighting it with a snap of his fingers.

He perched himself on one of the chairs and motioned for me to sit in the other one. I quietly obliged, my eyes never once leaving his smiling face. His trademark cane seemingly appeared in his lap.

"What do you want?" I asked less aggressively this time.

"My my, you're a distrustful soul aren't you?" He leaned his cheek on his hand.

"With my history you would be too," I said.

"What do you do for a living?"

"Anything and everything. Really anything that pays me."

"A tradition-breaker I see," he said. "Most women your age are attending school or doing housework for a master or husband."

"Let's just say I'm not well liked."

"Did you know those men?" he prompted.

"No, but they probably knew me."

"Does that happen to you often?"

"It's not frequent but it's not possible to avoid either," I answered. My clasped hands were sweaty and my cheek pinched from the dried blood on it. He was still sporting the same cut on his own cheek, clearly visible in the firelight.

"What did they want with you?" He was sitting straight again with his legs partly crossed and his hands clasped in his lap. Everything in me was tense and conscious. My hair on the back of my neck was standing up. I needed to get the demon out of my house.

"I used to belong to a fight ring."

"Lovely." His tone suggested anything but that. He looked down at his watch and let out a short sigh. "My my, it's sure getting late. We should be heading back."

"We?" I stood up just as he did.

"I can't leave my soulmate in danger, now can I?" He stepped closed to me.

"I know how to go under again," I said quickly. "I'll be leaving town and changing my appearance. No one will know it's me again."

"Then I wouldn't be able to find you again."  His eyes grew brighter the further we walked away from the fire. I bumped into the kitchen table and tried to put it between me and him.

"I'm sure this will scar and you'll be able to tell it's me." I pointed to my cheek. "Or I could just let you know where I go. That way you know where I am."

"If I bring you with me I'll always know where you are." I found myself staring at a shadow the second his claws touched my shoulder. I turned and he shoved me into the wall by my neck. "Besides, I of all people could keep you safest." His claws squeezed my neck.

"I feel qui-quite safe, I'm okay. I-I assure you." I casted a forced smile up at him. The room seemed to darken around his bright red eyes.

"I'm sorry, dear, it's not a request." He slipped his hand behind my neck and pulled me against him. He slammed his cane down on the ground with a cold THUD. His hand moved behind my back as the floor disappeared from beneath my feet. I instinctively grabbed at him to keep myself from falling. Wind whipped my hair around but I didn't dare let go.

My feet abruptly touched solid ground and the wind died down. I carefully let go with one hand to move my hair out of the way. Around me was a dark forest and the sound of waves crashing was apparent, as was the smell of the sea.

His chuckled vibrated through me and I jumped away. "Where the hell are we?" I turned around to see a dark mansion sitting on the cliff's edge. It's pointed roofs sliced through the light blue of the set sun.

"Welcome home, dear," Alastor said as he walked past. I spun in a circle, seeing nothing but forest and ocean. How far were they from civilization? For his reputation, probably hundreds of miles. Maybe even thousands. I crossed my arms and rubbed them to keep warm.

I turned around to see him waiting for me. His smile was still plastered to his face but his teeth weren't showing this time. He was leaning on his cane, if you called his stance leaning, at the base of the porch steps. I clenched my teeth and forced my feet to take one step after another.

Once I had reached him, he put a hand up to stop me. He tried to touch my forehead but I jerked back, my knees nearly buckling underneath. "Relax darling," he said, "I can ease the drug effect." I forced myself to be still as he swept his palm across my forehead. My vision cleared and the bright colors disappeared. I felt more stable but my magic was still out of service.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Home, dear." He turned and walked into the old house. I looked around once more before following him. Inside looked as dark as the outside. The door slammed shut and the lights abruptly lit up at the snap of his fingers. The house's true colors came through - a deep purple and velvet with dark wood accents.

To the right was the living room that held the warm fire and large windows. To the left was the dining room with what looked like stacks of old furniture and other timely pieces. Did he collect things?

"You don't..." I hesitated, "you don't think...that you can keep me here for the rest of my life."

"I do." He spun his cane and slammed it into the wood flooring. "Because just as you said, lovely, if you die, I die. You have made a name for yourself just as I have. You should be thanking me really," he said walking past me.

"Thank you?" I scoffed.

"I'm doing you a favor. No more of this running from town to town nonsense. Now you have a place to call home and don't have to worry a hair on your head about living to the next day."

"I'd prefer freedom over a fancy cage. I've survived on my own just fine for twenty-one years of my life. I'm no housemaid."

"Then let me put it simply." He stepped dangerously close until I jammed my heels into the door. He leaned down so his yellow teeth were inches from my nose. "You will remain here for the rest of your life, whether you like it or not." The room began to darken. "I have my ways of keeping people in their place. We may share scars but we don't share pain." His face contorted unnaturally and his eyes looked less humane. I felt sick. "You should remember that when you think of defying me. I'm called the Radio Demon for a reason." He abruptly stood up and the lights came back. "Sound good, darling?"

My shoulders fell with my spirit.

[hoesoflamentation]

𝖒𝖆𝕶𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖊 | 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋!𝖇𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (MINORS DNI)

// PART ONE !! // dead or alive | vampire!mammon x f!reader

// WARNINGS !! // werewolf!beel x f!reader, royalty/fantasy au, dubcon, furry elements, omegaverse themes, knotting, breeding/mating kink, scenting, marking, p-in-v penetration, no prep, pussy slapping

The duke’s bite marks on your neck had barely healed before your host, Lord Diavolo, summoned you to a celebratory feast. The kingdom was welcoming warriors from a far-off clan as an act of diplomacy, and each member of the prince’s court was expected to greet the guests.

The Demon Prince always trotted you out on occasions like these, believing that the presence of a half-human in his court was a testament to his father’s ‘benevolent’ nature. Grating as they were, you always accepted these invitations without complaint. Childhood friends or not, you understood that Lord Diavolo’s father only allowed you to stay in the royal court under certain conditions. But you didn’t blame the prince: because you were his longest friend, you also knew that he was just as much a pawn of the Demon King as you were.

And so, you kept your mouth shut. You put on your finest evening gown - a strapless mermaid silhouette made from wine-red demon moth silk. You spritzed yourself with a tincture of night-blooming flowers, the one Lord Diavolo had brought for you as a present from a business trip to Siren’s Island. For one night, you would survive.

At all of Lord Diavolo’s events, you were always the last to arrive (and the first to leave). Tonight was no different. By the time you arrived in the dining hall, the rest of the prince’s guests were already seated. Usually, the room would fall silent; Lord Diavolo would flash an apologetic smile as the room’s eyes turned to you, hustling to your seat at the last possible moment. But today, the hum of lively conversation didn’t cease, and you managed to slip in unnoticed.

The guests of honor were a hulking bunch - so broad and boyish that even in your tallest shoes, you still felt small. Everything about them was larger than life, from the way they laughed to the way they devoured their appetizers. They dressed strangely, too, strapped into ceremonial leather armor and draped in fur pelts. Surrounded by these foreigners, you felt like you were being held hostage on a Viking ship.

As usual, Lord Diavolo had sat you on the end of the table farthest from him, the seat typically reserved for the lowest-ranking guest. The clansmen didn’t even lift their heads as you slid into your dining chair… except for the one sitting next to you. 

“What’s that smell?”

The deep voice rippled through your seat like a small earthquake. You turned to investigate its source: a gargantuan pair of muscular shoulders, hunched to conceal the wrinkle of his nose; copper hair fluffing out in all directions like a lion’s mane. His spine was curved so far forward; you could barely make out the sharp angle of his chin beneath the fur cape slung across his shoulders.

You sighed and prepared yourself for the inevitable conversation about your humanness. “I’m only half-”

“No, not that,” he cut you off. “Smells like… flowers.”

“Oh.” You blinked hard. “You must mean my perfume.”

Thoughtfully, he nodded.

“Yeah. Smells… good.”

The young man smiled, then shifted awkwardly in his seat, his ears turning the same burnt color as his hair.

“Where I come from,” he rambled, “they say the person who smells best to you is destined to become your mate for life.”

Your cheeks warmed as he straightened to examine your face. As your companion drank you in, you noticed his eyes were an inhuman shade of violet... the mark of a shapeshifter. 

Life as a guest in the palace hadn’t taught you much about shifters. Most of them hailed from the clans that inhabited the far-off wildernesses of the Devildom, and didn’t interact much with the Demon King’s court. But you knew enough to recognize that your mortal side should be afraid of them. 

To your fragile skin and breakable bones, the fangs and claws on a shifter were no different from those on a vampire. Yet you were quickly finding yourself with a deadly habit; a taste for the supernatural. 

The longer you lingered on them, the deeper you sank into his amaranthine eyes. He held your gaze for only the briefest of moments before his shoulders rounded again, his gaze turning bashfully to the ground.

“What’s your name?” you blurted.

Without looking up from his plate, he replied, “Beel.”

His name echoed in your head for the rest of the night: Beel, Beel, Beel. Even as you excused yourself from the dining room early, that evening, your mind was consumed by thoughts of him.

However, you had learned from years of experience that the merriment of after-dinner drinks brought out the danger in even the gentlest of monsters. With a castle full of shapeshifters, you knew that the safest thing you could do was close your eyes and wait for morning... no matter how much your heart begged you to do otherwise.

Back in your guests’ quarters, you stripped off your gown and wrapped yourself in a black satin robe. The chest was embroidered in gold thread with the Demon King’s royal seal - a gift from Lord Diavolo, bestowed on your first night at the palace. 

That night, your eyelids fluttered shut as soon as your head hit the pillow. Instead of images, you dreamed in delicious sensations: broad shoulders encircling your soft breasts; rough finger pads tracing your stomach rolls; muscular thighs draped over your own. You couldn’t place a face or a name to these sensual vignettes, but they captivated your sleep nonetheless.

Whatever filthy nonsense had gotten into your mind, you didn’t want it to stop. From far away, you heard yourself moan in your sleep: “Feels so good.”

You were startled awake by a pathetic canine whimper ghosting over your ear: “Awoo!” 

Disoriented, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes and eyed the wall clock; the time was past 2:00 AM. Just enough moonlight crept in from between the curtains to illuminate a few tufts of ginger - was that fur? - in your bed.

You rubbed your eyes again, certain you were hallucinating. 

No, you weren’t mistaken: two fluffy ears wiggled playfully as the presence behind you squeezed closer, crying out like an injured dog as he humped you over your clothes. Frozen, you peered over your shoulder. Two violet eyes glowed in the dark, heady with lust. A ruddy tail flicked teasingly in the air, then grazed against your leg.

Beel. 

“You… you’re in my bed.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled into your shoulder. “Couldn’t sleep. Your scent kept drifting down the hall…” His fangs grazed your neck seductively. “I couldn’t think about anything else.”

You knew that you should feel furious; violated, even. You knew that you should scream in shock and horror. But against your better judgment, the feeling of his erection sliding against your thin robe left your heart beating erratically. 

“Sorry.” Beel hugged you closer and whined, his furry tail weaving between your ankles. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. You just smell so good…”

A light breeze blew through the window, the velvet curtains rippling to reveal a navy sky littered with stars. A full moon. You had heard rumors of the heinous acts shapeshifters committed under the influence of a new moon.

Could this be why Beel was acting so... forward?

Light danced across his copper tresses. You turned to face him, twirling a strand around your finger. He closed his eyes, his ears twitching, as if your slightest touch was too much to bear.

"Please," Beel whispered. “Just want to feel you… want to smell you…”

Unconsciously, Beel leaned toward you, his mouth so close that you could taste his breath, warm and sweet on your tongue. You unraveled, your body melting into his eager kisses. You moaned into his open mouth before your lips could even touch, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to bristle. You ran your hand over them, making him whimper.

“Don’t know how much longer I can control myself if you keep touching me like that,” Beel groaned. “Please, tell me I can…”

He rutted hungrily into your thighs with a moan, forgetting the rest of his sentence. But you understood what he was asking permission to do. As much as you knew Beel wanted you, he also seemed afraid of hurting you, in a way most supernatural creatures weren’t.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer. 

“Beel. Take me.”

Beel’s ears perked up as he nuzzled into your neck. 

“Mmm... you really shouldn’t have said that…”

You pressed your forehead against his.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

Something in him snapped.

“...You probably should be.”

Beel rolled on top of you and pinned your wrists to the bed - two electric purple eyes hovering over you in the dark. His lips crashed into yours, haphazard and wet and sloppy.

“You taste so sweet… like candy,” he breathed. “It’s addictive.”

Beel bent to kiss you again, tangling his tongue with yours in a mess of slobber and lust. 

“Can’t wait,” he breathed into your mouth. “Need more of you, now.”

Moaning in frustration, you arched upward into nothing as Beel rose to his knees and reached for your robe. Instead of coming untied, the satin ripped with a single tug.

Your breasts easily sprung free from the torn garment, the robe reduced to a pile of soft fabric beneath you. Beel growled in satisfaction as he bent to suckle on your tit. His sharp teeth grazed your nipple as you untied his jacket, eager to feel his bare skin on yours. He shrugged out of his sleeves without unlatching from your breast, tossing the top carelessly to the floor.

Chin covered in drool, Beel kissed his way up your neck until he came back to your lips. Your hand slid down his toned stomach, down the trail of orange fuzz above his v-line, dipping into his waistband just slightly; ghosting over his monstrous bulge. 

Beel shuddered as you palmed at his cock. Even through his pants, you could feel how hard he was for you. As your lips moved in tandem, his soft ginger tail feathered its way up your inner thigh, teasing at the slick spot between your legs. 

“Enough teasing,” he growled, pinning you in place with his leg between your thighs. “I want her.” 

He gave your bare pussy a wet slap that you weren’t expecting. You cried out louder than you meant to, until Beel clapped his palm over your lips. 

“Shh,” he hummed, pushing down his waistband. “Don't speak... wanna hear this pretty pussy talk t’me.”

You moaned against his hand, tears welling in your eyes, as you eyed his girthy cock. In this world full of monsters and magic, you had seen some unbelievable things, but the most unbelievable of all was Beel’s sheer size. No one had told you that shapeshifters would be so broad; that his cock would flare at the base and swell at the tip in ways that promised to bruise your hole before he even pushed past its entrance.

“It’s not gon’ fit-” you tried to mumble into his fingers, but it was useless.

Beel was already bullying his fat tip against your dripping folds, panting like a dog, as your toes curled into the satin sheets. He slowly pushed past your entrance, letting you feel every ridge and curve of his shaft with his first stroke. 

You felt your walls stretch, deliciously and painfully, around him, ultimately accommodating his gargantuan size. Wet pools trailed out of your pussy, onto your entangled limbs; spit dripped out of your mouth, onto the pillowcase.

“So good f’me, baby,” Beel huffed, his head dipping between your breasts as he deepened his thrusts. “Just a bit more-”

Both of you moaned aloud in a messy harmony as Beel bottomed out inside of you. His ears drooped and his face contorted with the effort, sweat beading on his brow. You pressed your forehead against his, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. He groaned into your mouth; you raked your nails down his back. 

Beel’s pelvis slapped your stomach with loud thwacks! as he fucked you faster and faster, humping you with all the enthusiasm of a desperate teenager. 

“Ah-” he huffed, “-can’t hold back much longer… ready to fill you up… ready to give you my pups-”

Before you could even think about asking him to pull out, Beel crushed his hips into yours with a pathetic whimper. His knees started to tremble beneath him. Meanwhile, you were so cockdrunk that if he had tried to jump out, you had half a mind to lock your legs around him until he spilled his seed inside you, anyways.

“Please,” Beel whined, his voice thick with agony, “let me make you mine.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his fat head pounded against your g-spot over and over again, rendering you speechless. But your nod was enough for him: Beel released his hand from your mouth, bracing himself against the headboard as he pounded relentlessly into your tortured cunt. You clenched your walls around him, preparing for the release you could already feel swelling inside of him.

“Oh- Beel!” 

You cried out his name as he drilled one final thrust into your abused hole.

“Hah- cumming- hah,” Beel huffed, burying his face in your collarbone with a groan.

His face flushed bright red as spurts of seed shot from his tip, hot liquid pooling around your cervix. You could feel every cell of your pussy walls spreading to accommodate his bulbous base. An explosion of stars burst into your line of sight as you felt him expand even further inside of you, tugging at your insides in a way that made your walls gush.

As the high washed over him, Beel pushed your thighs into the bed in a fierce mating press, biting down on every bare inch of skin he could find: below your ear, on the side of your neck, just above your collarbone. His hands firmly grasped your ass cheeks, pulling you up and into him as he continued to mindlessly rut against you. Instinctively, your sensitive cunt tried to jump back - but you found that you were unable to move, his cock molding to perfectly fit the shape of your walls like lock-and-key. 

What... what did he do? Is this some kind of shapeshifter magic?

Your skin was littered with marks from his fangs by the time Beel lifted his head. When his gaze met yours once more, you found that the glow behind his violet eyes had softened slightly, their color fading into a soft royal purple. But the warmth between you had not yet faded, nor had the knot binding you two together. You figured that as long as you were both stuck here, you might as well give him a scratch behind his fuzzy ears...

Beel hummed contentedly as you stroked him, nuzzling into your shoulder.

"You know," he murmured, "I think you smell even better mixed with me."

a/n: the highly requested part two to my vampire(& now werewolf)/royalty obey me! au has finally arrived. if you want a part three, make sure to show some love <3 and let me know whether you ship reader with mammon or beel!

[tonguetyd]

Chemical Mess

A Sleep Token Gift Exchange present for @sleeptokenpuppy 🥰

"What's the point? If life is fleeting, should I just hang with my friends? Should I spend more time with the people I love instead of in my head?"

Tags: Sitcom AU, Inhuman Vessels, Not Platonic or Romantic But a Secret Third Thing (Bonded By An Eldritch Being), Winter Solstice, Minor Existential Crisis, But Friends and Tentacle God Help You Thru It :::)

IV hummed as he balanced another 3 sticks of butter on the precarious tower of supplies retrieved from the fridge. Sure, he could take multiple trips back to the counter with less food, but what was the fun of having super strength if you didn't use it to carry as much as possible?

Deciding he had everything he needed, he shut the door and turned slowly towards the counter, making sure none of his supplies would lose balance and fall do-

"MOOOOVE!!!!" yelled II as he bolted past the guitarist to grab a Red Bull can, knocking over every one of IV's carefully stacked items to the ground.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as to not yell at the drummer. "We really need to keep your caffeine in a separate part of the house."

"We shouldn't give him caffeine at all, he's already supersonic," chimed in III from the stovetop.

"Notmyfault, lotsathingstodotoday, needmyenergy, sorry, iiiwillhelpcleanup!" II said between gulps of his drink. "Oh! Happysolsticebytheway!" He scrunched up the empty can and tossed it to the bin.

"III will NOT help clean up, III has risotto on the stove thank you very much," the bassist sassed.

Huffing at his friends, IV began setting his supplies from the floor to the counter. "It's fine, leave it all for the non-flexible AND slow one, not a problem there..."

"Seeyougotit, dontevenneediiishelp, okaybye," II replied before running back off to wherever he had come from.

IV grumbled something about "rude motherfucker" while III walked over laughing. "Don't worry, we'll figure out some way to get revenge," the bassist said, stretching his arm to keep stirring the pot on the stove. "Little man won't know what hit him!"

An unnatural cloud of fog rumbled with amusement as Sleep watched His younger vessels prepare for His sacred night. He turned His attention to His First, expecting to see a similar sense of entertainment from his eldest.

Instead, Vessel's six eyes blinked joylessly at the wall, oblivious to his friends' antics.

The solstice was upon them once again. Another year had gone by. Were the years always so short? How was time continuing to slip away from him? It had just been summer yesterday. Was life passing him by? Should he be doing more by now? Accomplished more than what he already had? How much time did he even have left?

Futhermore, what was the point of having all this time anyway, if it was just going to fly by him? If he was constantly running out of time anyway, what was the purpose of filling them with...anything? The clock and calendar didn't care what he did to fill them. They marched steady onwards.

Emo shit. As IV would affectionally call it.

Vessel's brain spiral of Emo Shit continued as his friends worked around him to bring light on their shared sacred day.

Sleep was displeased at this. It would not do that His First should be melancholy on the Holiest of nights. His fog form swirled around III.

“Hey Sleep! If you’re looking to help I think IV needs it more,” the bassist said, affectionately twirling a finger in the mist.

The fog grew denser and lowered Itself to obstruct III’s vision.

III frowned and tried to fan the fog away with his hands. “Yeah yeah I know it’s your special day, I’m trying to fry stuff though and would rather not get burned because you’re blocking my sight!”

Frustrated, Sleep continued to His Second. If anyone would be in touch with His First’s emotions, it would be his oldest friend.

The mist descended upon II as he raced up the stairs. “SLEEPICANTSEE!” he exclaimed as he missed the top step, tumbling back down to the bottom.

He sat up and rubbed his head, glaring at the fog. “Thathurt! Becareful! Notallofusareimmortal!”

The fog continued to swim around him, forming an opening to direct II’s sight to Vessel.

II huffed when he saw his friend. “Ves. Talktoyourgodandtellhimtoleaveusbe!”

Vessel glanced up towards II and shrugged.

IV bellowed from the kitchen “OI, SLEEP, WE’RE BUSY! GIVE US A COUPLE HOURS!”

The ancient one’s frustration reached its peak. The fog condensed and shot over to Vessel before disappearing from sight.

Vessel suddenly didn’t feel so good.

His eyes grew blurry and his head heavy. His limbs began to move of their own accord, and suddenly he felt another presence in his mind.

The jerky movement from Vessel’s body caught III’s eye first. “…Ves?”

Vessel’s head snapped to III’s, his six eyes glowing red.

“MY THIRD.”

“…oh. Shit. Not Ves.” III reared his head back, creating space between himself and his now-possessed friend. “UH…GUYS? I THINK WE MADE GOD MAD…”

II and IV made their way over to the other vessels. “Whatdoyoumeanwema-oh. Fuck.” II’s eyes grew when he saw the already looming presence of his friend expand to house a god.

“MY VESSELS. YOU SEEK MY FAVOR UPON THIS HOLY DAY, YET YOU IGNORE MY ATTEMPTS TO OBTAIN YOUR ATTENTION. EXPLAIN.”

“Shit…we…we didn’t mean anything by it, honest,” III stammered out. “We just have to watch what we’re doing, or we’ll make a mess. We would never intentionally ignore you, Sleep.”

“YOU ARE IGNORING MY FIRST.”

IV tilted his head in confusion. “Ves has been sitting right there? He hasn’t said anything to ignore…”

“MY FIRST’S BRAIN IS RESTLESS. HE IS QUESTIONING HIS PURPOSE, FEELING AS IF HE HAS TOO MUCH YET NOT ENOUGH TIME.”

“…andstubbornasscouldnttellusthishimself?”

III elbowed II from across the room. “Oi, don’t be a prick.”

“HE IS SUFFERING IN SILENCE, AS HE OFTEN DOES, AS TO NOT BE A BURDEN ON YOU. I WILL NOT TOLERATE MY FIRST BEING UPSET WHILE SURROUNDED BY HAPPINESS. FIX HIM.”

With His command given, Sleep detached Himself from Vessel’s brain.

When Vessel blinked his eyes again, he felt more like himself. His three sets of eyes were met with another three sets.

“Why didn’t you tell us you were feeling badly?” II asked, deliberately slower than he had been all week.

Shame rose up in Vessel’s cheeks. “I…uh…well…you’re all busy…and I just…it’s stupid anyway.”

“It’s not stupid Ves, it’s something we all feel at times,” IV assured him.

“Yeah! Friendly Christmas existential dread!” III nodded.

Vessel huffed. “I just. You’d think if we all go through this that somebody would’ve figured it out by now.”

IV scoffed. “Yeah, yet here we all just fucking around anyway. Nobody’s got any idea what they’re doing.”

“Mmhmm. We’re bumbling around just trying to get…somewhere?” II offered.

“Or maybe not even go anywhere at all. Just enjoying the ride, wherever it takes us!” said III.

Vessel stared up at the ceiling as Sleep’s fog took shape once again. “I guess.”

“Listen Vee, yeah we don’t know if there’s a point to any of this, and yeah it might be over in the blink of an eye,” IV shrugged. “But instead of wasting that limited time we’ve got trying to figure it out, let’s just. Like. I dunno.” He gestured around their space.

“Eat rice balls!” III exclaimed.

Ves laughed for the first time all day. “Who needs a meaning in life when there’s rice balls?”

“Exactly!”

“III is right,” II said. “We’ve got rice balls, and more than that, you’ve got us!”

“If we’re to be submerged, let us be submerged together and all that shit, yknow?” IV joked.

And as Sleep watched his vessels pick their First’s spirits up, he hummed in agreement. Not even the ancient ones know what the future holds. All any being can do is enjoy time with those that make them feel less alone.

A part of a whole, no matter how messed up it may be.

Just a picture perfect, lovable, positively shitshow, chemical mess.

——————————

Matt’s song offers no answers, nor can I, nor can Sleep probably! There’s no right way to do the holidays or life. All we can do is try to be good to each other! This is my attempt to be good to y’all, and I hope you enjoyed it!! ❤️

[jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue]

Halloween - BTS OT7 CEO au extra

Welcome to something a little different, just to keep you going until the next update 💜

Prev / Next

Yoongi:

Jungkook:

Hoseok:

Jimin:

Seokjin:

Namjoon :

——————————————————————————

Every jaw in the room dropped as the tv screen went blank. The lights in the house following suit as they cut out with an electric buzz in the air.

“Someone call Kitten now!” Yoongi yells in the darkness.

You had texted the group to say you were running late, but you were on your way to dinner. The others had worn their costumes, preparing the meal together when Taehyung had called them all into the living room.

“It’s a Halloween prank,” Namjoon tries to rationalise, but his breathing is heavy. “The news channels are obviously playing a prank.”

“It didn’t look like a prank Hyung,” Jimin runs his fingers through his hair, they’re all standing scared still. “And even if it was the news channel didn’t cut our power.”

“Fine then it’s a disease or a new virus, it is NOT zombies.”

“Sunshine!” You finally picked up Hobi’s call, the faint light from his phone lighting the side of his face. The room is so quiet they can all hear your screams. “Sunshine?”

“Hobi help!” The screams are followed by low groaning in the background of the call, the sounds of flesh being ripped through with decaying teeth.

“Kitten!” Yoongi yells, tripping over furniture to get to Hobi who had been petrified into a catatonic state.

And then, silence. There isn’t a single sound, and they all wait with baited breath. They feel the thud of all their hearts hitting the floor when a low moan comes through the line, your voice, there’s no mistaking it but it’s warped, inhuman.

“Bunny?” Jungkook whispers, his eyes watering as his heart picks up in pace.

The line cuts and they’re all left to the sound of their breathing.

“This isn’t happening,” Jimin almost tears his hair out by its roots. “CALL HER BACK!”

“We have to go get her,” Jin is shaking where he stands, his feet cemented to the ground but he knows he has to move. Whatever was going on he knew one thing, you were in danger.

“Everyone turn on your phones flash-“

BAAANNGG

Their souls jump out of their skins as a body slams into the living room window, their eyes going wide with horror as they take in the face in the dark. They can make out no discernible features but they can see the way his face presses against the glass. The silence that follows is deafening, not a breath, not a beat, until they see a tongue lick the surface of the window as if tasting them through it.

“What the actual fuck,” Yoongi breathes, terrified to speak a decibel louder.

The flood lights turn on outside, detecting movement although a little late but it reveals the body’s features and their eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. His entire body is decaying, his eyes set on them, unblinking, his clothes torn to reveal flesh and flies leaving no question what this creature was. But worse, behind him, what started out as a blur that drew closer, a hoard moving towards their home.

“We need to move,” Namjoon’s brain starts kicking into gear, survival mode fighting with instinct to shut down and freeze.

“And go where, we’re sitting ducks,” Jimin panics.

They all turn to the sound of another bang, closer, louder but they all knew what it was… the front door had been breached, they were in the house.

The low moan of their intruder echoes through the dark hallway.

“We need something to fight,” Jungkook whispers, his eyes darting around in the dark, their backs to the repeated thuds on the window from their other guests.

“Knives?” Jimin suggests.

“The kitchens too far,” Taehyung mumbles.

The lights of the hallway start flickering, the living room lights flickering just a second after, the pattern repeats making the men look around desperately for something to be armed with, but nothing usable is in sight.

“We can’t stand here, we have to run,” Jimin starts to hyperventilate.

“He’s right,” Yoongi agrees, tugging the still shell shocked Hoseok to snap out of it.

Jin’s whole body is vibrating with how hard he’s shaking, he knows whatever is in the house can sense them, the groans getting louder and the hoard behind the window getting more vocal with the frustration of a barrier between them and their next meal. He doesn’t hear what words are being said in the room, his hearts thumping in his ears, the blood draining out of him. He feels someone grab his hand, the maknae’s mouth moves in front of him but he can’t make out the words.

He’s being pulled into the hallway, the scene moving almost in slow motion as his brain fails to comprehend the scene but one thing wakes him up. They’re moving closer to the sound, they were running straight into danger.

It was too late, their bodies collided in the hallway, their attempts of escape stopped before they could even begin. A familiar figure stands before them, a silhouette they could make out even if they were blind.

“Baby-“

The lights flicker and the fills with their screams at the horror of their zombified girlfriend before them. They all scream except from one who covers his mouth and his laughter.

—————————————————————————

The very next day

Office romance:

Hobi : Did anyone get any sleep last night? 😭

Jin : every time I closed my eyes all I could see were the zombies

Yoongi : I slept through this mornings meeting does that count?

Jimin : I say we all go home and let Taehyung do all the work today 😒

Namjoon : I still can’t get my head around how they pulled it off

Yoongi : the maknaes obviously have had a bad influence on kitten

Jungkook : don’t involve me and Jimin in this

Jimin : Jimin Hyung* 🤨 I need another copy of this contract I drooled all over it

Jin : the two culprits are being awfully quiet

Namjoon : how long did you two plan yesterdays events?

Taehyung : for a while, the details were all flower, she really ran away with it

Jimin : I have to say the fake news announcement on the tv was a nice touch

Jungkook : I can’t believe we fell for it 😤

Namjoon : the lights went out, irrational fear was bound to takeover

Y/n : HEY! We were a team Kim Taehyung, we’re both to blame

Jungkook : well look who decided to join the conversation

Yoongi : look, she lives

Jin : dangerous girl

Y/n : if it makes you feel any better, I feel really really bad… but it was worth it 😇

Hobi : Sunshine you’re sleeping next to me until the nightmares stop 😤

Yoongi : you owe him that much Kitten, he fainted

Jin : as if you weren’t a second away from passing out too Yoongi, I know I was

Y/n : sorry Hobi 🥺 I am really sorry but I really don’t regret it 😈

Jungkook : Noona’s sadistic side is coming out

Hobi : we’ll see how long for 😒 wait till we get home sunshine, you’ve got a lot to pay for

Y/n : it was Tae’s idea too!

Yoongi : the brat didn’t dress up like our worst nightmare kitten

Namjoon : I really hope it was worth it baby girl, Hoseok’s got a dark look on his face 👀

Y/n : ☹️☹️☹️

Taehyung : you have to admit, flower’s acting was almost as good as mine 😏

Jungkook : and she made a terrifying but somehow sexy zombie

Jin : Jungkook no 🙅🏽‍♂️

Y/n : 😳

Jimin : Jungkook yes 😈

———————————————————————————-

Taehyung : (the day of Halloween)

[topherwrites]

FIC RECS: OUTER RANGE, OUTER BANKS, STRANGER THINGS

If I made a little comment about every single fic or series here, it would be inhumanely long, so I've refrained from doing so and have just put the summaries for each. This is split into two parts, TGM fics and everything else.

I hope that anyone who reads this list finds something that they love on it just as much as I do! If I missed you, I'm sorry, there was a lot to sort through!

SOME OF THESE ARE 18+, PLEASE HEED THE INDIVIDUAL WARNINGS!

RHETT ABBOTT

Yellow Soul by @creatchie8

Trapped in a relationship with your high school sweetheart Perry is like a never ending nightmare of always stepping on eggshells. One winter break changes everything as you are reintroduced to his younger brother, Rhett. Looking for an escape, Rhett provides the perfect shelter you crave.

right where i want you by @sushiwriterhere

Standing there, staring at the cotton balls in the trash, some part deep inside of you decides that it’s now or never with Rhett.

Odds are Stacked by @sunlightmurdock

In which Rhett loses a bet and you lose your virginity.

Wayfaring Stranger by @/sunlightmurdock

Betrayal sends Rhett veering further West, searching for answers and searching for himself. Instead, he finds you.

Much Love by @southpawbitch

you & rhett have found yourselves in a little fwb situation despite the fact that you have a fiancé.

About Last Night by @delopsia

A self-indulgent take on Rhett's best friend coming back to Wabang and surprising him after his final rodeo.

Dancing Beneath the Moon by @/delopsia

How is it that your heart only longs for the ghost of a cowboy? And why do you get the feeling that his heart utters the same for you?

Closing Time by @youvebeenlivingfictional

“You’re having a helluva night, huh,” You comment. “S’that supposed to mean?” “You got a shit bull, then you struck out with that girl…And you failed to bait Luke Tillerson into trying to kick your ass.”

RAFE CAMERON

Untouchable by @boneblushed

It is crucial that the head boy and girl of Kildare Academy work together. Too bad the head girl is you and the head boy is Rafe Cameron.

Glitch by @/boneblushed

Rafe has a bad fall on the ski slopes. A temporary amnesiac, he falls in love with you all over again.

So Gorgeous It Actually Hurts by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

childhood enemies to lovers, the slowest of burns, an unbearable amount of pining, both parties in heavy denial for like 90% of the fic, Rafe’s a total douchebag but he can’t help it (you’re gorgeous).

Euro Trip by @/folkloreslovechild (deactivated)

europe summer trip au!

new light by @outerbankies

you come home from college to spend your last summer before senior year in your hometown of the outer banks. an old friend hits you up wanting something more, and you begin to see what’s really been there all along.

You Belong With Me by @forevermoreharrington

Rafe’s fallen helplessly for his dream girl but she just doesn't see it yet.

tis the damn season by @atlabeth

When your roommate Rafe lies to his family that the two of you are dating, you agree to go home with him for the holidays to help sell it as his fake girlfriend after a generous bribe. It's just three weeks in the Outer Banks with one of your best friends -- what could go wrong?

Armour by @probably-writing-x

Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

So We Won't Forget by @netegf

you meet rafe cameron at a grief support group while he struggles with the loss of his father. he's trying to be a better man, and you can't help but love him for it.

Hate It When You Leave by @/netegf

you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. He's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want… including him.

I Know I Am by @bookofbonbon

For Rafe, it's always been you. He's just waiting for you to realise it too.

STEVE HARRINGTON

redamancy by @sanguineterrain

redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

dancing with our hands tied part i | part ii by @taintedcigs

in which steve is in love with his best friend's ex.

EDDIE MUNSON

Pearl by @cacoetheswriting

a story about two kids trying to navigate through love and loss, inevitable goodbyes, various reunions, friendships and hardships, joy, heartbreak, plus surviving the upside down - all to the sound of Janis Joplin's Pearl.

[tvseries-writings]

And he is back

Wandanat x Bioquake x Bobbi x reader (soulmate au)

TW: suicide

Plot: In a nightmare, you see Hive whose persuades Diasy killing herself and now he is in your mind, again.

You see him, behind her back, the great and powerful Hive. The shadow of a sadistic smile painting his monstrous face as he whispers in her ear. He did it to you too, and now he's doing it to her. You scream at her to stop but it's no use, she can't hear you, no matter how hard your vocal cords vibrate, begging her to stop, not to listen to him. Daisy, the inhuman who stole your heart, stands in front of him, her back to him as she puts a gun to her temple, her finger firmly on the trigger.

You scream, tears streaking your cheeks as you try to get closer but some kind of barrier prevents you. You slam your hands on that invisible wall; once, twice, three times but nothing you do seems to get his attention.

"Daisy, please," your voice is hoarse and trembling and the Inhuman looks at you but her eyes are glassy, the effect of Hive's drug clouds her mind and your heart aches, you know what she is feeling and you know the effect her control has on Inhumans like you.

"Daisy, look at me, don't do it, love. There's me, there's Jemma, Wanda, Natasha, Bobbi, May, Coulson, Fitz, Mack...please Dee, don't do this."

You plead with her, falling to your knees as your tears fall so profusely that they pool in a small stain at your feet. Your heart clenches as you watch her grip the gun tighter.

Hive walks over to the hacker and girds her hips, bringing his mouth closer to Daisy's neck.

"They'll be better off without you; think about Lincoln, Trip..."

He whispers it as glibly as if he were speaking words of love as he looks at you with dark, malevolent eyes that pierce your soul. He looks at you as if he were addressing those words to you as well.

Daisy looks at you one last time before unlocking the gun's safety.

"You'll be better without me."

You scream and your heart stops when a shot rings out in the dark gray cell where you stand. You fall to the ground and watch the blood gush from her lifeless body. You watch his face quickly turn to ash gray.

"Do not despair, you will soon meet his end, inhuman."

Hive approaches you and, finally, the barrier that separated you from Daisy shatters. You start to run toward her but Hive grabs you by the arm, forcing you to turn toward him.

"Your time has come."

"No!"

You scream and as he makes you dependent again, your concern goes to Daisy's body lying on the cold concrete floor and the only desire that pervades you, before Hive takes over, is to hold her in your arms and hear her laugh once more.

………..………………………..………………

You wake up drenched in sweat and with your heart beating wildly. Your chest aches and it takes you a few seconds to realize that what you experienced was nothing but a terrible nightmare.

Chills run down your spine as you sit up; your pajama shirt is so wet that the cold air outside the covers makes you shiver at the mere touch.

You search frantically for Daisy with your eyes, and when you see her chest slowly rising and falling and her light snoring, you breathe a sigh of relief and your heart finally begins to calm a little. You bring your knees to your chest, looking at Daisy and not taking your eyes off your girlfriend. You struggle to extricate yourself from Bobbi's grip and step over Jemma to get out of bed. You need to get some air and you don't want to sleep, not anymore. You don't want to see her face again and, most of all, you definitely want to get the image of Daisy out of your head and- and.

You shake your head, gritting your teeth and trying to breathe deep to get the image of the gun pointed at her temple out of your head.

You look at the nightstand where Bobbi always rests her gun, despite your protests, Jemma's protests, and Wanda's protests. Natasha, on the other hand, along with Daisy, fully supported her. You don't think twice before taking it in your hand, squeezing it with more force than you should. If Hive is back, if he has entered your head again...No, he is dead, Lincoln sacrificed himself to make him dead. His sacrifice could not have been in vain, not-

You can't freak out, not here, not with them sleeping so you touch your bracelet, activating it, before teleporting to the gym. You sit on one of the mats May uses to meditate, turning the gun over in your hands, savoring its weight and the coldness of the metal. You sob, thinking back to the nightmare and what Hive put you through, put you through. You remember vividly the dazzling withdrawal his lack of touch caused you; the physical pain he caused you, not to mention the mental pain. If he came back--you look down the barrel of the gun and turn it toward you,toward your face. If he came back, your last moment of lucidity will lead to your death, is a promise.

"What the hell are you doing?"

May's voice makes you wince and you drop the gun to the ground. May quickly approaches you, kicking the gun away and trying to meet your gaze.

"What the hell were you doing with a gun pointed at you?"

May repeats, punctuating each word harshly as she watches your every movement.

"I-it's not what it looks like May."

You whisper; you don't make eye contact with her, yet you feel her gaze burn into your back.

" Y/n, I really don't think it can look like anything else right now."

Flashbacks of your nightmare return to cloud your mind. You don't even realize that you tried to reach for your gun again and were stopped by May.

"Y/n, y/n! This is not real, what you are experiencing is not real. Listen to me, follow my voice, let's go."

May is frightened, you don't seem to be listening to her, and the Caveman is particularly startled by the blank look on your face.

"Agent!"

May shouts, shaking you by the shoulders, and Hive's face in front of you turns into the face of your SO.

"M-May?" you whisper, your voice shaky and broken as you cling to her as if she were your only lifeline.

"It's all right, it's all right. It was all in your mind."

It takes you a few minutes to realize that you are clinging to your SO; although you see May as a mother -- well, she must not know that. You pull away from her and swing from one foot to the other, looking out of the corner of your eye at the gun a couple of feet away from you.

May follows your gaze and quickly reaches for the gun, taking it in her hands and slipping it into the empty holster on her right thigh.

"Are your girls awake?"

You open your eyes wide, shaking your head firmly.

"No, no May, you don't have to tell them anything. Please May."

The officer sighs, crossing his arms and looking at you with a raised right eyebrow.

"Y/n, you're clearly having problems and you need to talk to someone about it, okay? They are your partners, if-"

"It's Hive!" May stops and you sigh, before continuing; your back hunches, as if you are bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders, "It's Hive, May. He's back, he's entered my head again, he's brought Daisy to-a-"

Tears line your cheeks, you no longer know what is real and what is not.

May looks at you confused and shakes her head as she tries to move closer to you, unsuccessfully as you pull away from her touch.

"No y/n, Hive is dead, Lincoln sacrificed himself to make this happen...Daisy is fine and he is not in your head. Not anymore."

You chase away the tears, wiping them away with your pajama sleeve but they continue to fall copiously; again and again as your body shudders with each sob you emit.

"Rockstar?"

Bobbi's voice makes you hold back a sob. You turn to her, noticing that she is not the only one who has noticed your absence in the bed. After all, your soulmates feel, at least in part, the feelings you have; especially if those feelings are as strong as the ones you are feeling right now.

"We didn't find you and we got scared," Jemma whispers, moving a few steps closer to you.

"And Bobbi's gun was not in its usual place."

The Inhuman approaches you and, before you can pull away, draws you into a hug.

"You dreamed Hive, didn't you?"

You stiffen under her touch as soon as that name slips from her lips. It feels wrong, poisonous, you want to suck it away once and for all. From yours and his mind, knowing the pain he has caused you both.

You nod, slowly. You lean into her touch, tired of bearing all that suffering alone, like so many times before. Daisy caresses your face, brushing a rebel lock from your forehead, before leaving a tender kiss on it.

"He's dead love, he's dead. He will never come back; I will not let him hurt you again, do you understand? Never."

Jemma, Bobbi and May watch the intimate moment between you and Daisy. Although Jemma and Bobbi are dying to hold you in their arms, they understand that in this moment Daisy is the only one who can truly understand your pain.

May approaches the two biochemists, handing them the gun she had previously hidden in her holster.

"I believe this is yours, Bobbi. I would advise you to put it in a safer place, you never know what might trigger an attack, you know."

Bobbi nods, quickly taking the gun and putting it in the back of her pants only after setting the safety. Jemma looks at the gun, looks at you, and then turns her attention to the older officer.

"What did he do? Why doesn't the gun have the safety on anymore, May?"

May sighs, shoots you a look and then drags Bobbi and Jemma away from you and Daisy.

"She...had the gun in her hand and was pointing it at herself."

Jemma gasps, as does the blonde. The weight of the gun, now, is a hundred times heavier and almost seems to drag her down.

"No May, you're wrong, she wouldn't, not-" The biochemist shakes her head, clinging to Bobbi's arm and looking at the blonde for confirmation, a hint of reassurance that, however, does not come.

The blonde agent looks away, thinking about how much Hive's addiction upset you, just a few months earlier, and how you became a different person under his control.

"Bobbi? She can't, right? She can't have done that, not-"

"Jem, remember what Hive did to her, how her powers rebelled against her own control...And now think if she thought she was at his mercy again, unable to do anything. I don't doubt that she could have, though it hurts to admit it."

You only seem to break out of the little bubble you and Daisy have created when Jemma emits her first sob.

Daisy's head snaps toward the biochemist; her gaze is a mixture of concern and confusion as she searches for an explanation for the fact that one of her soulmates is in tears. Bobbi shakes her head, mimicking a "we'll talk about it later" with her lips before leaning close to Jemma's right ear and whispering something that neither you nor Daisy can hear but that makes her stand up and leave the gym.

"Bobbi, what-?" you ask, confusion painting your face as you force yourself away from Daisy and toward the blonde.

"It's okay rockstar, she's just worried about you, we all are really. What do you say we join her in bed? It's four in the morning and I think we all need a good night's sleep."

You're not convinced by his answer, but he's right about one thing-you do need sleep, and even though you're afraid Hive will come back to haunt your dreams, you fear you have to do it anyway. Or at least, you have to pretend you do otherwise your girls will never leave you alone. So you nod, nod a small smile at them, say goodbye to May and leave the gym, joining Jemma. Daisy, Bobbi and May stand there and watch you leave, avoiding talking until your silhouette disappears from their sight.

...............................................................

You are holding Jemma in your arms when you see Bobbi and Daisy enter your room. From their looks, you can tell that May has told them everything.

Bobbi stares at you for a few seconds before setting the gun down on the same nightstand from which you borrowed it not an hour earlier. You stiffen a little at the thought of the talk the girls are about to give you and shudder at the mere thought of having to tell Daisy about your nightmare. The girl you're holding in your arms notices; in fact, she lifts her head and looks you in the eye as she lovingly strokes your back two, three, four times before the other two girls also join you on the bed. Bobbi sits cross-legged on the bed, inches from you and Jemma; Daisy, on the other hand, sits beside you, taking your right hand between her own.

"Honey, what did you dream? Did you dream Hive?"

You nod, stroking her hand and playing with the ring on her index finger. You focus on the warmth emanating from her body, on her face, on the face no longer as pale and lifeless as that has invaded your mind in the past few hours.

"L-he...he killed you, Dais. Or, I, he had you under his control again and convinced you to-"

Although you are trying to hold them back, tears line your cheeks ignoring your concern, "I saw you put the gun to your temple and pull the trigger."

The three girls remain silent and you turn away from them.

"And I couldn't do anything, I couldn't teleport, you couldn't hear me and- and finally, he made me go to you and I held you in my arms but it was too late."

Sobs shake your body as you approach the bedside table. Bobbi follows you, not for a moment leaving you uncontrolled.

"Y/n..." the blonde whispers, starting to move, slowly, toward you.

"I can't let him control me again, I can't, he's still inside my head, I-I love you, I really do, but I won't survive if he controls me again."

Your thoughts race frantically, so much so that your hands shake and you suddenly find yourself on the opposite side of the room. You fall to the floor with a thud, watching your girls, previously inches from you, more than a couple of feet away.

"Fuck it, fuck it, it's messing with my head, I can’t even control my powers anymore!"

Tears roll down your cheeks; you jump to your feet and shake your head furiously, over and over again. The last time you weren't in full control of your powers, it was under the influence of Hive. You no longer have doubts. You're not thinking clearly, otherwise you wouldn't do what you're about to do. You sprint towards the nightstand and, despite Bobbi trying to get there before you, you manage to grab the gun and remove the safety.

“What-no, stop!”

Daisy is moving towards you, Jemma is petrified and Bobbi is analyzing the situation trying not to panic.

"I'm sorry, I love you"

You pull the trigger and wait for the gunshot and the pain but none of that happens. The screams of your girls are the only thing you can hear.

"What the hell did you want to do"

Natasha stands in the doorframe, her voice shaking at the sight of the gun pointed at your temple. Wanda, however, is right behind her; her face is pale and her eyes are red as she uses her magic to keep your index finger from pulling the trigger. You look at your hand, see it covered in Wanda's red magic and your heart stops for a while when you realize that you haven't completed your task yet. Bobbi lunges at you, tackling you to the ground and throwing the gun away, but not before stuffing the magazine into the back pocket of her jeans. You collapse against the floor, surrendering under the blonde's grip with the hope that what is happening is nothing more than a nightmare. You could use your powers to free yourself from her grasp but you don't want to hurt her in any way. And suddenly, despite months of therapy, you fall back into the depressive state that Hive brought you to during his time on earth. You remain helpless in Bobbi's arms; your gaze is glassy as Bobbi talks to you, shaking your shoulders when you don't answer her. Your body moves back and forth, with the same ease of an unconscious body but you, on the other hand, have your eyes open, wide open, even if the emotionless and apathetic look in your eyes worries your girls greatly and Wanda does this that you think is best for you. She kneels next to you, caresses your temples and puts you to sleep with her magic.

“What the hell is going on?” Natasha whispers, breaking the silence as all the girls look at your unconscious form in Bobbi's arms.

“I… I think she has some Hive residue in her mind,” Jemma says, knowing she's just released a bombshell. They have to help you, whatever is happening to you, they will help you.

Thanks for reading! I don’t even know what is this but hey, at least it’s something :)- Have a great day and, if you want, you can support me on ko-fi. ☕️

Taglist: @wandanatsbaby @bioquake-archives @bioquakeweek @daisyjohnsonx @wandanatsgirl @chaekhan @station19 @resilientpendragon @so-no-kissing-then @thearchpitbullmx @ashadash0904 @kingshitonly @alwaysgoodnight @callistic @xjule @yuleni18 @simpforwandanat @alexxislexi @mrsdanversromanoff @coollemonsaresour @hushed-woodsman @razorscooteer @eponine-xx @maniacallinc @michelle170 @classyig @elenaguarnieri @scarletwidow @tati3001 @cristin-rjd @your-my-mission @mr-nicely @hi-i-1 @anniethurs @ktstwice @scarlet-raccoon @maria-403 @goldfishthegr8 @wandanatfan @looiegirl-blog @bioquake-blog @daisyjohnsonx

[darkworkcourier]

This is kind of a quick and dirty smut sampler for @cyber-nya's Monster 141 AU. It's kind of experimental and like an exercise in playing with styles, so hopefully some of it is cohesive?? We Shall See.

It's all gn!reader/the 141 doing their monster thing, and a bonus at the end. :)

(Also content warning for minor (very minor!) bloodplay in Price's section, chase roleplay in Soap's, minor mindfuckery and unreality in Gaz's, and safeword usage in Ghost's.)

---

With Price, it's all dichotomies. Pain and pleasure. Illumination before plunging into darkness. Aching and soothing.

Fangs pierce your neck—a cold metal sting before warmth floods your bloodstream, numbing you from the inside out. You hear your heart thrum like a plucked bass string, and you feel that odd, drowsy sensation that comes syrup-slow and sweet. His eyes flick up once, startlingly blue, and you hear his voice in your head.

I warned you, he says. He always says it, and it took you so long to realize it's because he cares.

"I know," you whisper, bringing your hand up to stroke his hair.

You always lose track of time when you're with him, hours smearing like oil, your circadian rhythm tripping and stumbling. At some point, you know he helps you out of your clothes until your skin is flush against his. His stolen heat soaks into you, and you moan as his fangs retract, tongue laving over your wounds. Then he kisses you, slow and copper-sharp, deceptively human—yet as inhuman as they come.

"Touch me?" you sigh against his lips.

Of course, he replies. In your head. In your ears. There's no difference. All that matters is his hand on you, working up a slow-moving heat between your legs, winding and coiling up the tension until it threatens to spring.

Sometimes he's quiet when he touches you like this. Sometimes he fucks you and snarls in your ear like an animal attempting human speech. Tonight, though, he turns wistful as his hand moves in long, lazy movements and you gasp against his jaw.

"One day," he tells you. "It's gonna be a bite that'll be your last."

This bedtime story. Your favorite of them all.

You bite down on your bottom lip and nod against his shoulder as he fucks you with his fingers. It takes everything in you not to sob at the sensation.

"You'll feel all your life drain out of you, and right when you think it's the end—when all this goes dark—you'll feel it. You'll feel something better than this."

This is punctuated by a stroke that sends you arching off the bed, pressing yourself against him as he works you up and up. You shudder and moan, and he rests a cheek against the crown of your head like he's listening to an orchestral piece.

"Life like you never lived it," he says. "I'll give you back some of what I took, a little bit of me in it. It'll be just like fuckin' you, but so much better. You'll wish it never ends."

You're close to wailing now, his hands moving faster than any human's, the friction a burn between your legs as you tremble in his arms.

"You'll be mine. Properly mine."

And you're over the edge—a burning bright light, something singing high and melodious in your shared blood, and then you fall back into the honey-sweet, velvet darkness.

You lay against him, panting, eyes squeezed shut, shivering in fits as you come down to the sound of him shushing you, the feeling of him stroking your hair.

"It'll happen," he whispers to you, then kisses you so sweetly that it aches. "I promise you that, love."

---

Soap plays with you at the outset. It's shared glances across rooms, quick smiles, come-hither looks. He makes a game out of following you around, then turns it into a pursuit. The aim is to get caught, but you're always given a better reward if you make him work for it. Sometimes you joke and say he's a working breed.

Today, you really make him put in the effort.

A light jog across base turns into a flat-out sprint once you get beyond the hangar. You hear Soap's boots behind you, then his grunt of surprise when you take off. It's thrilling, the burn in your muscles, the sound of Soap gaining on you, the potential of what might happen to you when he finally catches you.

You quickly turn a corner before reaching the easternmost hangar. Your boots skid on tarmac, and you nearly trip before catching yourself on the edge of a crate and using that to push off. Soap's seconds behind you, close enough that you can hear his heavy breathing, and as you round another corner leading to one of the old, disused hangars, you hear him growl.

Not playful.

The growl of something primal.

What starts as a fun exercise turns into a survival mantra—get to the hangar, get to the hangar. As your calves scream in effort and your heart threatens to punch out of your chest, you tell yourself that you'll get the luxury of making decisions so long as you reach the fucking hangar.

Adrenaline fuels every desperate step, but excitement rumbles through you at the sensation of heat at your back, the acrid sent of brimstone stinging the air. Fuck yes, you think. Come on.

You almost take the door right off its hinges, then slam it behind you just in time for Soap to impact it. The vibrations run up your arm and jar you, but you don't have time to be distracted. You sprint through the yawning empty space of the old Cold War-era hangar, the smell of burning dust hitting the air as you hear Soap actually take the door out of its frame with an otherworldly howl. Metal groans and rattles behind you, just as you finally find an empty office to hide in.

Most importantly, there's a lock on the door. Not that it matters, and not that it helps that you're effectively cornered. But that is kind of the point.

You hide between the dust-coated desk and a rusted file cabinet, counting your heartbeats and listening as claws scrape over concrete.

Thirty-one, you count, fingers on your pulse. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-fo—

Something scratches at the door, and you hear him sniffing at its base.

You clap your hand over your mouth and press your back against the desk, trying not to grin.

(You should be terrified, but that part of your brain is hardwired now to remember that Soap would never hurt you.)

"Come out," he snarls. It's impossibly deep, a black snarl of sound that sends tingles through your whole body. "I can smell you."

You wonder what he can smell, if he picks up the scent of arousal pooling between your legs at the thought of what he's planning to do—if he's planned at all. Sometimes, when he's worked up like this, he's beyond organized thought, and the results tend to be incredible.

A few more seconds and heartbeats.

Then you hear the hinges protest, screws stripping in their sockets, wood groaning from the pressure. The lock rattles, then snaps, and the door hits the opposite wall hard enough to make you jump.

Before you can peek up over the top of the desk, black smoke and red eyes fill your vision, and a clawed hand cinches around your throat.

"Got ya."

That's all you have time to register before you're thrown over the desk like you weigh nothing. Soap's at your back, body crackling like flames, hooked claws splitting the wood of the desk as his hands (paws?) bracket your head. You know without looking that he's half-transformed—human and hellhound combined so that he can hold you down like this, but can fuck you with the fury of hell as his fuel.

And enough of a hellhound for his teeth to shred your clothes, tearing them away until you're exposed to him. A long tongue insinuates against you, achingly hot against your skin, teasing you with every lap. Then it withdraws, and you moan in protest.

"No complainin'," he says, grin audible in his snarling voice. "We got a couple hours and I plan tae make the best of it."

---

Gaz is different. He seems to exist in two worlds—a split entity that relies completely on an image of a man combined with the reality of his actual body. You're never more aware of this than when you're intimate with him.

You're in his room, feeling the weight of him against your back as he drapes an arm over your waist. He kisses the nape of your neck, down to the first divot of your spine. There, he lingers, seeming to listen to your soft breathing, hand coming up to rest over your heart. You know he loves to feel your life under his hands, the sensation of your vitality fluttering in his palms like a bird.

"Close your eyes," he mutters into your ear.

You do without question, your trust in him absolute and infinite.

All at once, you fall into that here-and-not-here space that Gaz seems to occupy. You feel his hands roaming over your body, tugging your pants down in slow, methodical motions while his lips press against your neck and shoulder. At the same time, the vision behind your eyelids goes from dizzy phosphenic spirals and patterns to something concrete and clear.

You see a sword the color of burnished gold, handle intricate and polished to a shine from centuries of use. It hovers between the gauntlet-clad hands of a suit of ancient armor, proud and regal. As Gaz touches your thighs, the helmet moves, lending the appearance that the armor is watching you.

The sensation of this particular kind of scrutiny is exquisite, and the version of you that exists in this space moves around the armor to survey it from all sides.

(Gaz touches you at the apex of your thighs.)

The blade starts to glow with unearthly light, flickering like flame.

(His hands move with deep strokes as he licks a line up the column of your neck.)

The armor's torso moves along with you, watching you vigilantly. Always ready for to attack or defend, the sword as much a threat as it is a promise.

("Does it feel good?" Gaz asks you, voice low and lovely in your ear.)

You're at the armor's back, and you see your own hands stretch forward, fingers brushing over the metal—warm to your touch, like flesh. The helmet watches you, holding still, waiting.

(You can't speak, mouth open on a moan before your head falls back against his shoulder. Your hips move on their own accord, seeking him out.)

You return to the front, facing the glowing sword, watching strange patterns ripple over the sharpened metal. The urge to touch the pommel is overwhelming—a need, rather than a want. Something about the sword and armor calls to you in a way you can't explain, like you're being called home.

("That's it," Gaz says, encouraging. You can't tell if it's to you trying to fuck yourself on his hand or to the version of you in the in-between space.)

The helmet passively watches you. You take in the sight of it—intricate designs embossed above the visor, gorget nicked with old dents and scratches that tell of a long history. It's beautiful. More importantly, you know without any sense of doubt that it's alive.

(Something burns in you, bright and wonderful, coaxed forth on Gaz's hand.)

Your hand stretches out, reaching for the sword.

(You moan, and you hear Gaz answer it with his own.)

Heat radiates off the metal, feeling like sunlight on your skin.

("Come for me," he tells you.)

Your fingers touch the pommel—this sword in the stone, always waiting for your hand in particular. The moment you touch it, one of the armor's gauntlets gently covers the back of your hand with something like assurance.

(You shudder in his arms, bucking your hips against his hand, riding out this bliss that he's created.)

This was always meant for you, the armor tells you.

("That's it. That's it," he whispers into your ear, holding you close with his opposite arm. You feel his lips on your jaw.)

You grip the handle, lifting the golden sword from its place, spurred on by the armor's hand on you. Light floods this strange space, brilliant and resplendent.

(And then—)

And then your eyes open, gasps sharp as you come down from your orgasm. Gaz has you in his arms—decidedly human arms with flesh on muscle on bone. You feel so safe, endorphins flooding you as you relax into him and sigh.

"S'always yours," he tells you, kissing your jaw. "You know that?"

You nod, smiling, eyes fluttering closed again. Just there, beyond the cosmic dust behind your eyelids, you still see the sword in your hand.

"I know," you say, rolling over to press yourself against his chest. Your head goes up under his chin, and you smile.

---

Ghost is something else entirely.

During missions, he keeps something of a corporeal form, concentrating himself into the shape of a man. He moves as a human might—controlled gestures and motions that anyone would recognize. Only when he fights, when he truly throws himself against an enemy, does he allow even a portion of himself to loosen from the illusion. Black smoke unfurls from him, wraps itself around anyone unfortunate enough to get caught, squeezes the life from them and leaves a husk behind.

He keeps it controlled around the 141, and especially around you. Keeps his distance, lingering at the edge, like an animal prone to flight. You know what that smoke is capable of—what he is capable of, but not once have you worried he'd use it against you.

And when you finally learn what he can do to you—

You're in the showers, long after lights-out. Even if someone did come to find you, they couldn't see you. Ghost's made sure you're completely enveloped within him, lost in a cold smoke brushing like snow over your bare skin.

He's inside you— in every available place until it really is impossible to tell where you end and he begins. He fucks you relentlessly, but swallows up every sound from where one of those fucking hands plies your mouth open. You think he has you pressed against one of the tile walls, but knowing that would require sight, and he's covered yours.

There's something deliriously intoxicating about the thought of Death Itself fucking you like this, using every hole, taking your pleasure over and over and absorbing each moan like a soundproof room. Your legs gave out minutes—hours?—ago, but Ghost holds you upright, keeps you in just the right position as his presence ensconces you.

"You should see yourself," he says, voice coming from everywhere. He sounds like he's behind you, in front of you, whispering from each shoulder. "Fucked out like this. Barely able to keep yourself up."

You probably groan, but Ghost takes that, too. It feels like a kiss, something brushing over your lips, and you eagerly chase it, too blissed out to know what it is you're trying to catch.

"You'd take anything I give you, huh?"

A tendril follows along the curve of your thigh, up and up, then bridges over to the opposite leg in one liquid movement. It's cold silk on your flesh, making you shiver in his omnipresent grip.

It's almost too much, almost—

Your right hand moves, index and middle finger extended, tapping twice into the cool darkness.

It recedes immediately.

In a set of simultaneous movements, you're lowered to the floor and one of the tendrils reaches out to turn the shower on, shielding you from the water until it's warm enough to tolerate. You catch your breath as the water falls over you, and Ghost wraps himself around you like a blanket, settling over your shoulders before nudging gently at your cheek.

Still trying to catch your breath, your trembling hand reaches up and strokes over the darkness, finding it soft and pliable under your fingers. "I just... I needed a break. Just a few minutes."

"Okay." Another nudge, this time from something that's nearly a hand. "You need anything?"

You shake your head, then lean into him. He takes more of a form now, human-shaped enough for you to lean your head against his chest. "You, mostly," you say.

"I'm here." He kisses the top of your head—one of the most human gestures he knows—and repeats it again. "I'm here."

---

"I don't care that it's incorporeal smoke," Dr. Adler says. "Sexual wellness is important, regardless of how you go about accomplishing... whatever it is."

You groan, watching her untie the tourniquet on your arm as blood flows into the tiny plastic vial. Within a few seconds, it's full, and she takes it and the syringe out in one quick movement before holding the vial up to the fluorescent light buzzing over your heads.

She taps the bottom of the vial twice with her thumb, and you watch with mute fascination as your blood turns bright blue, glows like a firefly, then turns back to what you think is still your blood.

Dr. Adler hums and tucks the vial into her lab coat pocket (with no indication of what she's planning on doing with it). "You're clean," she says.

"That's it? Don't you have to send that to a lab or something?"

"In a normal medical practice, yes," she replies with a shrug. "But not here. I don't have to pretend that I can't just do it myself."

"So your magic witchy powers cover checking for STDs?"

A brief look of annoyance crosses her face. "Not naturally, no. I learned it out of— Well, necessity."

You raise your brows. "Necessity?" you repeat.

"Military people. Always putting their genitalia in places where it doesn't belong."

"Oh." Gross. "Ew."

"Mhmm. Besides, I had to test it on myself a few times."

That gets your brows to a new altitude. "What?"

The look on Dr. Adler's face is the dictionary definition of enigmatic. Immediately, she goes to her office door and opens it for you. "Nevermind," she says. "I have another appointment waiting."

You glance out the door, but the waiting room's empty.

Still, she looks pretty insistent, and judging from hearsay from the other members of the 141, it's best not to pry too much into her business.

You leave, and the moment the door shuts behind you, you hear a soft, low, very much masculine laugh and a quiet mutter of what sounds like German.

Best to leave it be.

[thegreatyin]

oh my god i completely forgot about hours literally being a currency in sunless skies. ferb i know what we're gonna do today

fallen london needs a timeloop au actually. every fandom deserves a timeloop au. every fandom deserves seeing their blorbos slowly lose it through repetition and perfectionism

[shoezuki]

rambling bout divinity au in the wake of the new fic:

sampo Did in fact wipe gepards memory of that night. but at this point in the rough timeline i have in mind sampo has fucked w gepards memory So Much and hes... not really good at it like thats fuli's job. so gepards building up a resistance

sampo has a tendency to wipe geps memory a Lot and often for stupid shit. like mid chase sampo trips and eats shit? oo thats embarassing cant have gep remembering that.

(another fic idea is the first chase where gepard actually catches sampo and sampo is so flustered he causes a localized ecological disaster around em and accidentally grows plants n flowers around gepard and then wipes geps memory)

gepard 100% knows that sampo was the one who arrested elias/the dude who stabbed him. he knows that sampo somehow got around all of their guards and security. he knows sampo tried to mess with his memory somehow.

i dont want gepard to seem like an airhead in this. kind of hard to balance it because his obliviousness to aeonic influences is central to the whole au but at the point of this fic. he Knows theres something not 'right' w sampo

at this point gepard knows sampo isnt human or has some inhuman things going on. hes decided its not relevant to the records against him and refuses to mention it or allude to it.

serval was mentioned for exactly 1 line but i have a fic planned from her perspective. she knows sampo isnt human and does her own investigations against him which leads to her butting hands with natasha. pela also knows 'something' is up w sampo but moreso about how sampo feels bout gepard.

gepard shuts down all insistances that sampo is abnormal esp from serval and pela because he doesnt want anything to change for sampo. its sort of his own way of being protective

i cut out that segment where sampo goes to natasha before finding elias but my idea is that sampo goes to natasha for comfort very often. they have a strong mutual understanding and shes kinda like an older sister/maternal figure sometimes to him

(his 'childhood' was shit and he sees his own experiences in the underworld children. so hes envious of how nat treats them lovingly because he never had that and has never had any supportive older figure considering hes not human)

i loved writing the segment with lan because lan's origins as an aeon are interesting to me.

considering lan rose to aeonhood from a hatred for Yaoshi, how sampo felt when spiralling in his anger towards elias is how lan 'feels' all the time. Lan is an aeon but is a very... emotion based aeon.

thats why lan reached out to sampo but never aha. he could feel sampos anger and relate to it. (lan's message was almost a warning as well as a jab at sampo being 'weak')

sampo thinks gepard is an emanator of qlipoth but hes so wrong.

sampo considers making gepard his emanator. he wouldnt though. if he was aha? absolutely. but hes human now and knows doing something like that and altering gepard without his knowledge would be a betrayal. gepard isnt suited for elation anyways

people who know sampo isnt exactly human: gepard, natasha, serval

people who know sampo is so down bad for gep: pela, seele, natasha

i dont think anyone fully realizes hes an aeon though. because thats so unimagimable. nat is the closest though

[thejujvtsupost]

Hi! I saw your requests and can I just ask a little red riding hood au where reader is little red and geto/gojo/nanami/toji are the wolves that eat you (out).

[They don't have to be literal wolves but just as wild. U can pick one but if you want to write for more than one it would be great]

Good Enough To Eat 18+ mdni

Anon your brain is beautiful! This was originally for Halloween, but my I present: full moon Nanami 😌

Notes: F!reader, sex in the woods, prey/predator play(+dom/sub?), oral (F receiving), light breeding kink bc it’s Nanami, minor injuries, reader is consenting/discussed beforehand- consent is v sexy!

Someone did a public service and pulled an audio of Nanami’s heavy breathing and I need to be euthanized. I’d also like to dedicate this to @pseudowho because they’re always on top of the Kento Agenda and sharing the audio with them was a MUST. Like that’s literally our husband. 💗

You weren’t sure how long you were running with your picnic basket but you couldn’t catch your breath.

You couldn’t stop, either.

What started out as a simple evening picnic in the woods with your lover turned into a chase, as you ran for your life.

Kento… Kento was different from other husbands…

His unique qualities weren’t a hindrance to your relationship aside from the few times a year his instincts took over- and the heightened senses around the full moon. Even then, you both were so careful to avoid any accidental injuries. His body was far stronger than yours, with his heightened strength and lack of restraint being around him during his most vulnerable moments was dangerous.

“You can’t run forever, my love. I can smell you…”

Despite his taunts you refused to respond. He would catch up eventually but you didn’t want to make things worse by alerting him with your voice.

Unfortunately, between the blood pounding in your ears and lack of oxygen in your lungs, you lost your balance and tripped over an exposed tree root- with a twisted ankle, you were now dinner.

“Poor thing, that looked painful. Let me see it.”

Kento sounded calm but you knew the truth. Inside he was a simmering, insatiable, beast that already expressed its intentions of eating you.

He was getting closer and closer with his inhuman speed, you tried to get up and run but he had you pinned face down to the forest floor in seconds. Fuck.

“Got you.”

His voice was raspy in your ear as he started mouthing at your neck, “Gonna take you apart right here, right now. Feel how ready I am to take you?”

And you did, his cock was straining in his pants when he harshly ground against your ass. Impatiently, he pulled your hips up and adjusted your legs, keeping a hand on your back to maintain a good arch. The draft of the cool night air hit the back of your thighs, reaching higher when Kento flipped your dress up.

“No panties huh? You like being a wet whore don’t you? Running through the woods from a beast and leaking from your cunt.” He leaned down to inhale your scent close to the source and growled. “This pretty cunt needs filled up.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit of shame at how turned on you were by all of it.

A high pitched mewl left you as his tongue flicked across your clit from the back, feeling the way it throbbed each time it lashed against you. His lips sealed around your sensitive nub, alternating between slurping up your growing arousal and suckling your clit.

Your body was on fire, pussy clenching, needy for him to fill you. “Kento please!”

With one last smack of his lips he moved his body over yours, completely dwarfing you under him and tangling your fingers together. “Gonna get you full of me, breed this pretty pussy.” His cock brushed against your folds for a moment before he thrusted into you in a single breath.

If you weren’t so wet, the stretch wouldn’t be as pleasant. Unlike now, when your eyes were rolling back from the feeling.

You could feel his cock grow harder, stretching you, his swollen tip rubbing against the spongy spot in your cunt, making you leak around him.

He’s panting in your ear, needing you to milk his cock, your whimpered moan of his name only spurring him on more. He moved your legs higher to fuck you deeper, thrusting into you in the most animalistic manner you’ve ever experienced with him. With every pass, he hit his target. You knew your knees would be bruised by morning and it would be a welcomed mark.

His grunting and panting rivaled your moans as you grew close to your peak- he wasn’t far behind you with the way your cunt was fluttering and slicking.

“Kento- gonna!” You couldn’t finish your sentence before you released around his cock, soaking the dirt beneath your bodies.

“Yeah that’s it, come baby.” He roared, spilling his spend into you with a few sloppy thrusts before stilling, his cock throbbing with its own heartbeat, an endless stream of cum filling your pussy.

He pulled out once his breath was even and carefully flipped you over, “Are you okay, sweetheart? Hurt anywhere?”

Your eyes were still glassed over when you smiled all dreamy at him. “We gotta do that again.”

Kento fixed his clothes with a chuckle and gathered you in his arms, putting the little picnic basket in your hands as he carried you back to the car.

He buckled you in and held your hand to his lips when he got in the drivers seat. “How about a hot bath and some ice for that ankle when we get home?”

While worth it, you’d definitely feel deliciously sore tomorrow, deciding then to take the day off work.

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, eventual poly!relationship, undead.

Word Count: 3,811

Notes: Mother knows I don’t need another AU but frankly idc 💅🏻

_________________________________________

Day 189

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Fuck me, you think, digging your tattered sneakers deeper into the ground. You’re hoping to gain better traction on the dirty road as you run–sprint away from the creature at your back. Gravel gives way, making the asphalt slippery as you try to maneuver through the barren streets or the abandoned town and away from the monster trailing behind you.

You don’t need to be bolting at full speed, but any form of running is tough due to your injured knee. You’d twinged it the other day as you ran through the forest with a horde of undead lazing after you, locked in on the stench of your blood.

You’d tripped over an upturned root and fell harshly, landing directly onto a stone. The crack of your knee smashing into the rock cracked through the forest and the zoms had grunted loudly in response, almost gleefully, like they knew you’d been downed.

It truly is just your luck.

Something always seemed to go wrong in your presence. If it wasn’t dropping your last can of food into the river while you were crossing it was attracting a group of undead while you were grumbling loudly about just how shit your luck really was. It was the man you’d trusted who’d ended up robbing and abandoning you while you slept, leaving you only with the short knife tucked into your boot at the time.

Hell, you were probably somehow connected to the apocalypse happening.

You chance a look over your shoulder, and for a split second your heart calms and you slow your pace, the road clear behind you.

Hunched over with your hands on your knees you gulp down the arid summer air. The stifling heat chokes you and you cough loudly to clear your airway, sucking in a large breath just as a bead of sweat rolls down your mouth. You wheeze, coughing harder as the tiny offender slips its way down the wrong pipe. 

Like you said, bad luck.

Pounding on your chest, you wince. Your hacking will attract more. You need to stop.

Scanning your surroundings, you try to gather your bearings of where you are in this small, rundown town. You were just supposed to be passing through for the usual runs of searching shops for food and unused supplies. Your backpack is a little too light for your comfort.

You’d convinced your comrade to split up, and now you're regretting it more than ever. The town is small enough, quiet enough with the rustling leaves and sounds of birds chirping nearby. There are no human sounds, no scuffing of shredded shoes dragging across the pavement, no snick of safety switches clicking off. 

It’s silent.

You cut off your coughing abruptly and straighten, swallowing uncomfortably. Your tongue is thick in your mouth and your throat is dry from lack of water. You’re down to your last bottle, and choking on your own sweat has only made you thirstier. Your heart pounds in your chest, too loud for you to make out the sound around you but it’s then that you realize–

It’s silent.

The wildlife has gone completely still, birds sensing the threats lingering nearby, falling quiet in their nests. Not only do zoms lure for tasty human flesh, but they’re known to trap any living creatures they can.

A low inhuman growl drags your attention away from the trees. It grates against your skull like it always does, a cry for help, a cry for flesh. Your head snaps around back the way you came. 

You curse.

Really, really unlucky.

Not one, but three undead come stumbling out from behind the building you’d passed. It’s an old laundromat, and one of the zoms is clad in a half-torn dirty t-shirt that you think could use a good washing. Or burning. They’re tripping over their own stupidly clumsy feet, and when they catch sight of you, pick up your sweaty, delicious scent over the soft breeze, their milky white eyes zero in on you.

Grunting softly, you begin jogging away from them. Running has never been your favorite hobby, but it’s imperative to your survival now. Doesn’t matter that your lungs feel like they’re on fire with every step, your knee sending sharp shockwaves of pain up your leg with each step. 

At least it isn’t broken.

Ignoring the throb in your leg, you reach for the holster wrapped tightly around your waist. You’d had to punch another hole into the leather to keep it tight enough not to slip down your rapidly slimming hips. You know you won’t find anything there, that dick had stolen your gun long ago. These days, the worn leather belt housed a knife, but you’d dropped it in the initial scuffle with the leader of the small zom pack chasing after you.

You’d laughed, thought it was your comrade and had shoved the creature off of you. But when your fingers had torn through the delicate flesh on the zombies arm, rotting veins and thin skin spilled out over your hand you were quick to your senses. Reaching for the knife, hand slicked with thick, chunky blood. Your grip slipped once, twice, and the zombie was up in an instant, pushing against the hand you’d planted across its chest.

Finally tugging the knife loose from where it was nestled in your holster was a relief that turned sour as the zombie swiped out. Dumb luck had the flailing limb striking true, knocking the weapon from your unsteady hold. It landed with a soft thump, a small cloud of dust puffing up and clinging to the black blood coated hilt.

Time froze as you stared at the zombie, letting out an unamused puff of air as your heart kicked into gear. It’s head jerked forward on fractured bones, the clacking of it reverberated up your spine like a hot knife, and you winced. The zoms mouth parted and its rotting gray tongue rolled out, lapped at the air, tasting your scent.

It shoved harder against your hold.

You’d managed to wrestle the undead away, pushing it to the ground, but you hadn’t had the time to grab your trusty knife that you’d carried with you since the beginning of the end. You climbed to your feet and side stepped the cracked hand reaching for you, the bony tips of fingers free from dead skin, sprinting away.

Unsure of which way to go, you raced up the road away from where you had last seen your friend. You wouldn’t let her get caught because of your stupidity.

You try to outrun them, weaving in and out of the few buildings in town, but they’re locked on your scent, although you’re pretty sure you smell like one of them by now, you can’t even remember the last time you’d showered.

Rounding the corner of an old bar, you debate stopping for a drink. You pray that there’s an unopened bottle of vodka, or tequila inside. Hell, you’d take just about anything right now.

Making a mental note to come back around and search the bar, you trip. You use your hands to catch you, cursing as your palms scrape against the pebbles and dirt. You hope that there’s no blood, muttering beneath your breath as you survey the alley. There’s a tall chain link fence blocking your path.

Well fuck.

There’s no way you’ll make it up in time, and the drop from the other side is a long way. Plus, you don’t know if your aching knee will be able to support your weight against the flimsy metal, having just fallen on it again.

Your day really can’t get any worse.

Your limbs slide against the dusty ground as you flip over. Your fingertips dig down for purchase. The three zoms are approaching quickly, limping closer to you, keen on getting a taste of your flesh. One of them even looks like it’s smiling, peeling lips torn and curled around blackened rotting teeth, grinning at you sadistically.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

This is it.

You search the alley frantically, hoping that there’s at least a broken bottle from the tavern you can use in defense against the looming creatures. There’s nothing but pebbles and litter, not a single potential weapon in sight. You swallow hard, gaze flitting back to the zombies who moan softly, making grabby hands at you like babies do their mothers.

Your back hits the fence and you squeeze your eyes shut tight, the sun blaring hot across your skin.

You’ve had a pretty good run, you think, for someone who’s luck is as shit as yours. 189 days.

You send a silent prayer up above – although you’re pretty sure whoever is supposed to be watching over Earth has taken a break long ago – and hope that your comrade will be okay.

The zoms are almost on you and you curl tighter around yourself, refusing to open your eyes. If you’re going to go, the last thing you want to see is yourself being eaten. No thanks.

There’s a loud war cry just as the long, overgrown, brittle nails scrape against your cheek. You shudder and a shadow crosses your vision for a millisecond, and your eyes snap open. Squinting against the harsh sun you watch as the zombies arms are lobbed off, falling right onto your lap.

Black blood drips thickly and your empty stomach curdles. With a grimace you shove the limp limbs off of your legs and pull yourself to your feet, the zombies attention turning to the new person in the alley with you.

You loose a sigh of relief at the shaky laugh and taunts thrown at the undead, “Come here, you fuckers!”

It’s your comrade. She’s armed with a landscape scythe in one hand and your knife in the other. The sunlight casts over her sharp cheekbones and her gray eyes are almost as pale as the zoms. It’s unnerving sometimes but right now your chest swells with relief. Her menacing (and slightly crazed) smile has her looking like an angel of death.

“Feyre,” you exhale, head falling back against the chain link fence in solace.

The armless zombie struggles, trying to stagger to its feet, but it ends up inchworming its way towards you and your savior. With one quick jab of your knife to its head, the creature goes still.

Feyre jerks the blade from the body and dances around the other two zoms, swiftly moving behind them. You catch one of their attention, beating your hand against the fence, rattling the metal with your hands. Before one can turn around to face Feyre, she uses her scythe, the curved blade protruding from the stomach of the zombie. She grabs the handle with both hands and lifts with a grunt. The body's decomposed muscle and bone give way as she slices from stomach to head, splitting the damn thing in two. When it falls away it reveals a grinning Feyre.

You grimace at the sight. She’d found that gardening scythe a few weeks ago and now it’s her new favorite weapon.

“Gimme,” you gesture to your knife with a nod of your head, the last zombie still slowly making its way towards you.

“You sure?” Feyre cocks an eyebrow. She’s still on a high from her last kill, “I don’t mind.”

You shrug your shoulders in response, “Be my guest.”

You let Feyre take the last one, sliding the knife easily into the base of its neck. It’s a more humane kill than the last one, and you’re just glad it’s over quickly.

“Don’t drop this again,” Feyre says seriously, striding over the dead bodies and firmly placing the knife back in your hand. Her fingers wrap around yours tightly, making sure you understand the importance of the weapon.

“Not like I was trying to,” you mumble, looking away from her in shame. Your gaze settles on your hands and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You hadn’t even known the girl long but here she is, saving your life and sticking by your side even though she doesn’t have to.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she admits softly, looking at you with sad eyes. If she’s saying this because she doesn’t want to be out all alone in the shit world or because she feels a kinship with you from what you’ve both been through, you can’t say.

You sigh, frustrated. “I’m no good for you, Fey. You’d be better off without me.” You wipe the blood from your blade onto your already dirty pants and nestle it back in its rightful spot on your belt.

“Stop with that, (Y/N).” Feyre places her hands firmly on your shoulders and stares into your eyes. Her gray iris’ are piercing, similar and yet different than the undead, like she can see all of your deepest secrets and fears, all of the things you’ve had to do to get here, to stay alive.

You’re vaguely aware of the zombie blood dripping from her blade onto your shoulder and you try not to cringe. “Like hell you’re leaving me in this shit hole alone.”

You chuckle softly, ignoring the pang of guilt you feel. Once she finds what she’s looking for, she will absolutely abandon you, your mind supplies.

“Sorry,” you offer quietly.

“Just don’t scare me like that again,” she responds, waving off your apology. There are no ‘sorry’s’ in the apocalypse, no need to ask forgiveness for the evils you’ve committed. You trail Feyre out of the alley, “Use your words next time.”

“Didn’t want to attract more,” you admit, knowing that if you had screamed for help it would only put the both of you in more danger, “Ended up doing that just fine anyway.”

Feyre doesn’t respond to that. She can see that you’re already kicking yourself for what’s happened, even though the both of you are okay. You have a habit of that, blaming yourself for most things that go wrong. You always have.

“You’re limping,” she points out instead, “You hurt?”

“Nah, just fell on it weird,” you try to smile but it looks more like a grimace. “It’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“We should find somewhere to stop. You can rest and I’ll check out the other stores. Maybe we can find you some painkillers.”

The odds are highly unlikely, but you don’t mention it. Not all of the stores in this tiny town have smashed windows and ransacked shelves.

“We’re not splitting up again,” you demand, following Feyre through the broken window of a nearby store. You wince when you lift your leg and pain shoots up it.

You look around the dinghy shop and make a face. It’s a mattress store, and you have no idea how long it’s been since it’s been broken into, but by the looks of the stained and matted mattresses, you can tell it’s been awhile.

Feyre hums in agreement, scythe poised and ready for anything that might pop up and surprise the both of you. You keep your knife tucked tightly in your hand, ready to back her up without a second thought.

“There’s a clothing shop a few stores down. Untouched. Thought we could drag a mattress down there for a night. Sleep on a real bed for once,” Feyre suggests and throws a grin over her shoulder towards you, “Maybe go on a little shopping spree.”

And that’s another thing that differentiates you from Feyre. While she was scoping out for supplies that might actually help you survive in this undead world, you were thinking about booze.

“It would be nice to get some new clothes,” you comment, pulling at the dirty shirt clinging to your sweaty skin. You frown, looking around at all of the mattresses, “And sleep on something comfortable, if we can find one that’s decent, that is.”

Feyre rolls her eyes, “Oh, come on (Y/N). Everyone knows they keep the nice ones in the back. All wrapped up and ready to go.” She raises her eyebrows at you in a silent question, and you nod, silently telling her that you’ve got her back.

Feyre shoves open the door to the storage room and you’re surrounded by stacked mattresses lining the walls. 

“Jackpot!”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The both of you had managed to drag a twin sized bed two stores over into the clothing shop with little trouble. You’d ignored the twinge of pain in your leg at the weight. It grows worse the longer you stand on it, but you really do want to sleep in a real bed.

You shove it as far away as you can from the window at the front of the store and tear the plastic wrap off of it. Your heart stumbles as you think that this is what it must feel like for the zombies to tear through flesh. You shudder.

Instead of falling onto the fresh mattress like you want to, you’d gone back out to search for more supplies before the sun sets. You need water, but it’s scarce to come by these days. You each have one bottle left in your bags from when you’d found a pack of unopened water bottles sitting out in the sun in front of a gas station. It probably wasn’t the best thing to be drinking from a plastic bottle that had been sitting in the sun for who knows how long, but you didn’t have the luxury of being picky these days.

You’d seen one more zombie in the drugstore you were hoping to find some painkillers in, but if the spilled pills surrounding the trapped zombie were anything to go by, it looked like they had gotten to them first.

You whistle to yourself as you walk through the aisles, a slight limp in your step. You kick an open bag of chips out of your way, searching for anything that is still usable to eat for the night.

You’d gotten used to the constant hunger pains, the feeling of your stomach trying to eat itself, contorting in pain when you thought about shoveling a thick and juicy cheeseburger into your mouth. As long as your stomach still jumps at the thought of food instead of flesh, you can manage.

Feyre was built for the apocalypse. She’s figured out how to ration, and she’s always planning, not knowing when you’d find your next meal.

Another reason you were so lucky to have her.

You’re frustrated, having walked down the food aisle three times but still coming up with nothing. The only food left was opened or had rotted out a long time ago, and you don’t need to be getting sick over spoiled food.

“Find anything?” Feyre asks, returning from checking the back room and moving over to where you stand.

“A few bandages, but no food,” you sigh, holstering your weapon. “You?”

She shakes her head, “No food either, but I found these,” she tosses you a bottle of painkillers and you smile gratefully. “Fucker didn’t get to those ones.”

“Thanks, Fey.” You immediately tug off the cap and down two. They catch against your dry throat but eventually work their way down.

You tug your backpack off of your shoulder, stuffing the canister inside. It rattles and you remind yourself to stuff a clean sock into it so they don’t move around as much.

The both of you search up and down the rest of the aisles of the small store just in case. Feyre becomes fascinated over a rubix cube you’d found, still in its package. You smile softly at her as she tears open the plastic and mixes the colors. You both need something that reminds you of the simple life before.

You find some chains and padlocks still handing in their spots in the hardware store and you’re both incredibly thankful. Even though you haven’t found more food, you still have a can of beans you can share, and you have clean clothes and a comfortable place to sleep for the night, so today isn’t as much of a bust as you thought.

“Fuck,” Feyre sighs are she settles down onto the mattress next to you. “Been a rough day, hasn’t it?”

You hum in agreement, passing her the can of beans. You’ve both changed, opting for plain t-shirts and new jeans. You’d almost cried when you found a package of unopened socks, shouting for Feyre like you’d found a cure.

“S’just socks, (Y/N). Calm down,” she’d replied, but the relief shone in her eyes as well.

You share the beans, passing it back and forth in silence, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You’d packed up what you could into your bags. They sit at the foot of the mattress, ready and close just in case something happens. Your new running shoes sit neatly next to them on your respective side of the bed.

“Go to sleep, I’ll take the first watch,” you offer, and who is Feyre to argue?

She settles into the soft bed and is out as soon as she’s comfortable, exhausted from today’s events. You’re constantly worn out. There’s just something about the end of the world that is so very tiring.

You hum to yourself, checking the exits for the third time in two hours. You need something to do or you’ll fall asleep. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. Feyre knows it’s because of your slight paranoia that something terrible could happen if you don’t continually check your surroundings. But you’re not wrong.

Checking the lock and chain on the front door, your attention is caught by something moving outside.

You immediately crouch out of sight, peeking out the grimy window into the darkness to see what it is. 

Three figures, too fast to be zombies.

Your heart pounds. You can hardly make them out in the dark, but it looks like two people dragging another along between them. They’re tall, you can tell. Must be men. They hurry down the street as you watch on. Your gaze flickers up the street, searching for zombies, your knife gripped in a firm hand, but you don’t see anything.

You wonder if the person they’re dragging with them is injured. They must be, otherwise they’d be running alongside the other two. You wonder how much blood they’re leaving behind as the three of them find an open shop across the street and down a few from where you and Feyre are hiding out for the night. An old cafe of sorts. You’d checked it over earlier, but you suppose it’s as good of a place as any to take shelter in for the night, the window and door still intact.

They’ll be away from monsters, at least.

Everything in the new world is a lot scarier in the dark.

_________________________________________

(Part 2)

[the-24-7-lawlu-library]

Hello!

I have a trip in a few days and I need some longfics to help me survive, do you have any recs?

Hello there! I hope we are not too late with answering. Of course we can't leave you alone in this! Here are some recs:

I’d Forgotten How Nice Romance Was, Then You Reminded Me by Living4LifesSake (M)

At forty-four years old, Luffy was content with the way things were. Sure his life hadn't exactly gone like he had originally thought it would, but it was fine. He had a good job, a cute dog, a whole gang of awesome friends, a supportive family; things were great. He was fine with being single. Then, one fateful night, he got sat by a handsome man at a bar. And suddenly, everything changed. A story where Law and Luffy learn that you’re never too old to have a whirlwind romance.

Lead Me Back to Suffering by Purplehairedwonder (M) [non-con, includes Doflamingo/Law]

In the wake of Kaido's fall, Law is kidnapped from the shores of Wano.

Inhuman Potential by Sydneyxface (E) [Blood and Gore]

Dr. Trafalgar Law has seen many wild and surprising things come across his table as a pathologist, but nothing compares to one of his decedents waking from the dead - and thirsty for his blood. And so Law befriends (and beds) a vampire named Luffy and is pulled into the chaos that surrounds him - which involves cracking a case of missing people supposedly being used as slave labor for the elites of the world... the Celestial Dragons. Alternate Universe - Modern day, 2023.

Not a Ball or a Chain by HollowIsTheWorld (T) [AU-Modern]

Trafalgar Law grew up hoping he would be one of the handful of people to never develop a soulmate mark. Now that that hasn't panned out, however, he's willing to settle for just never meeting them. Unfortunately for him, Monkey D. Luffy is a hard person to avoid.

At the End of the Day by Artificial_Starlight (M) [Edit: we corrected the link]

It was such a simple thing to get worked up about, he knew, and maybe it was because he's so removed from normal social interaction that the idea of new friends coming into his life only bothered him. He only needed the three - they gave him enough trouble! They already bugged him enough to hang out, already caused drama that he was dragged into, already teased him about his idiosyncrasies... They already knew about his issues; spent years around his ever changing moods as he tried to be less angry, less scared, less obsessive. They already tried with mixed results to help him sleep, heal, and trust. He didn't need anyone else getting that close. However, as he began to walk away, he couldn't help but believe that not taking Straw-hat's words seriously would be a mistake.

the thing that remains by tciddaemina (M)

He'd had a plan. Destroy the SAD manufacture plant, destroy the SMILE factory... A kidnapping here, a bit of extortion there. Simple, at least by Law's standards. The Straw Hats had been a surprise, but a manageable one. Doflamingo would submit to their demands, sealing his own fate, or they'd destroy the factory and Kaidou would finish the job for them. He'd had a plan. Now Law doesn't know what's going on, but its definitely not the plan.

Boyfriend's Duties by martilla (E)

“Good evening,” Law said calmly. “I am looking for…” he looked down at the medical chart in his hands. “Monkey D. Luffy.” The boy on the bed smiled immediately when he heard his name, a curious and excited look in his eyes. “That’s me!” He shouted out. “Are you the doctor? They said that they were sending a doctor before dinner and I am really hungry, so if you are the doctor this means that I am gonna eat soon!” The two men in the room groaned at that sentence and Law felt taken aback by the enthusiasm of the guy. He was either stupid or not aware of the gravity of his injury, if his only thought was dinner. “Yes, I am the surgeon that will operate on you,” he answered. “My name is Trafalgar Law.” * Law is a surgeon who needs some light in his life. Then Luffy happens.

-Mod Raiya