#It's so rare that I'm even able to cry anymore

[tequitoclown]

I don't think I have been triggered that badly in forever. Holy shit, I just absolutely uncontrollably sobbed for 30 minutes.

I think I'm okay now but goddamn, I genuinely couldn't have predicted that.

Just... Tell someone you love them okay? Please. Please tell the people in your life you care. Tell them how much they mean to you.

I should have done it so much more...

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Just Giving In

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, truth curses (with a silly twist!), light fluff, angst, smut (fingering, p in v sex, creampie), love confessions, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You're under a very annoying truth curse. The kind of truth curse that will kill you if one very specific, Dean-related truth isn't told. But apparently no one's allowed to just die in peace anymore.

Author's Note: It's amazing how I'm able to delude myself into truly believing that I'll actually write something short and only horny. No. We must write 3k of story and 5k of emotional smut. Enjoy!

Title from Never Let Me Go by Florence + the Machine

Word Count: 8.6k

It’s past midnight when you get back to the bunker. 

You were supposed to be back that afternoon, but certain complications arose, and you’re back now. You’ll have a long, sleepless night to come up with an excuse for why exactly you were five hours late, didn’t text Sam and Dean that you were going to be five hours late, where exactly you were in the first place, and why the car looks like that. Scraped and dented and wrecked, like it had been put through a meat grinder and spat out in a hunk of metal that somehow didn’t explode when you drove it. 

You’re glad you didn’t take the Impala. If Dean yelled at you right now, you might start crying on the spot. Thankfully—in what should be a rare stroke of luck, but feels like a dagger right into your stomach—Sam and Dean seem to have given up on trying to wait for you to come home, so you’re free to retreat to your room and cry in private, like any reasonable adult who’s probably going to die within the week would-

“You’re back.” 

A light behind you flicks on as Dean snaps from across the room, and you grimace as everything inverts. Dean did wait up for you, and that’s tiny and electric high that goes right up your spine. You’re also not lucky, but that just feels like a given at this point. 

You will not cry in front of Dean. You have spent the whole night repeating to yourself that, no matter what happens here, you will not cry in front of Dean. He either think nothing of this week, and it will fade into the distance as you figure this out yourself and he never knows, or he’ll look back on it with nothing but simple grief and anger, remember you fondly and furiously instead of as a weak, emotional, manipulative bitch. Remembers you as the person you’ve spent so long proving yourself to be, instead of the feral girl they’d found you as. 

It doesn’t make turning around to face him any easier. He’s sitting in his usual chair, glaring at you with his arms crossed, and there are bags under his eyes that you put there. A tight line to his lips that’s your responsibility, because you’d fucked up and he knows it. He always knows it. 

Because you fuck up a lot.

“Hey, Dean, what’s up-“

“What’s up?” He snaps, and you have to force your body not to flinch. “You’re crawling back here at one in the goddamn morning without ever, I don’t know, thinking to fucking call when you realized you’d be late, and you’re saying what’s up?”

You swallow. “I lost my phone.”

“You, fuck-“ Dean rubs his jaw with a hand, giving you a look of pure disbelief. “You could’ve borrow someone’s, or prayed to Cas, or just, goddamnit-“ he mutters your name, looking at you with an exhaustion that makes your gut flail. “Where the hell even were you?”

“Um,” you glance down at your hands. “Hunt?”

“Hunt.” His voice is flat, and you wince. “That’s all you’re going to say.”

You nod. “Rowena called me. Needed help with something.”

“And you just fucking went with her, without telling anyone-“

“I didn’t just go with her, I brought a gun. I was careful.” you try to stand a little taller, looking back up to Dean, because you need to sell your half-truth of a story and get out of here. Out of where Dean’s just right there, and it’s making your skin crawl and your blood cold and your eyes push out of your skull the longer you lie to him. “And I did tell Cas-“

“Son of a bitch, that’s not enough.” Dean groans, pushing out of the chair to glower down at you. It’s an intimidation tactic you’ve seen him use before, where he makes himself large and furious, almost beast like. Sometimes it makes him look bigger than Sam, and he only pulls it out when he’s furious, and demanding answers. You don’t think he knows that, when he uses it on you, it does not have the intended effect.  

“Dean-“

“Cas didn’t tell us.” Dean hisses your name, stalking across the room and getting far too close for your brain to function properly. “You need to tell us, because we were, I was-“ Dean cuts himself off with a grunt, his whole body rigid as he scans over your face. 

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, and it’s the truth, so it’s like clear, fresh water over your head and down your throat. “I didn’t mean to freak you guys out. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal.”

“You didn’t-” Dean’s jaw is clenched, and his words seem pushed through his teeth. “Just go to bed,” he mutters your name, and you feel something in your chest snap. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

You nod weakly, and almost run away from him. But not to bed. You’ve already blown this up way too much to just go to bed. 

You go right to Sam’s room and bang on the door, keeping a careful eye over your shoulder for Dean to walk into the hall.

It takes a very long, tense minute, but eventually you hear a groan from the other side of the door, tired words muffled through the wood.

“Dean, she’ll be back, and you’re not helping anything-“ The door swings open to reveal a messy haired, bleary-eyed Sam, and he blinks at you with a frown. “Oh, you’re back. You should go tell Dean-“

“He knows.”

“Cool, that’s good.” Sam scans over you—bouncing slightly on your feet, every movement and breath feeling frantic and borrowed—and frowns. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Oh, uh, you need to talk about it-“

You don’t bother to answer, pushing past Sam into his room and dropping on the end of his mattress, watching him blink at you, his frown deepening every second.

“Yeah, you can come in-“

“Can you please close the door?” You whisper, like Dean might somehow hear from wherever he’d gone after your fight. 

Sam nods slowly, and the movement you hear the click of the doorknob, the words start to fall out of you like vomit. 

“I fucked up, Sam. I really, really fucked up, it’s bad, I’m fucking fucked-“

“Woah, slow down.” Sam moves across the room, running a hand through his hair. “Just, start from the top. Where were you-“

“Rowena called me for help. Some sort of coven drama, she said she needed some backup because her magic was weakened.” You take a long, shaky breath, unable to look anywhere but the corner of Sam’s carpet. “I told Cas, just in case it was a trap, and left. I owed her a favor-“

“Wait, since when did you owe Rowena a favor-“

“Mark of Cain.” You mumble. “I told her I’d owe her if she helped Dean. One favor, cashable on anything.”

Sam says your name slowly. “You didn’t need to do that, we would have figured it out. I mean, Dean wouldn’t want you to-“

“I know, I don’t need you to-“ You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can we focus on one stupid choice at a time, please?”

“Yeah, sorry, keep going. Why are you fucked.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, and decide to skip most of the details. Sam did not need to know about how the case was indeed at trap, or how you’d known it was a trap, but the favor had been a blood oath, so you weren’t able to run or call them. He didn’t need to know how you’d mowed down about five witches with the car—the sickening crunch still rattling around your skull—or how it wasn’t just blood and sweat on your brow, but something from an animal you’d really hoped you’d mistranslated from Latin. 

He just needs to know the reason you hadn’t killed Rowena when you’d escaped and taken out the rest of the coven. 

He just needs to know about the problem.

“It went to shit. Really big shit, Sam. I’m kind of… cursed.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and when you finally gather the confidence to look at Sam, he’s gaping at you, frozen in place.

“What do you mean,” his voice is low, every word slow and deliberate. “Kind of cursed.”

“I mean very cursed.” You mumble. “Really fucking cursed.”

“Shit.” He mutters, shaking his head. “I said you were probably fine, Dean’s gonna kill me-“

“No!” You stand up frantically, your voice almost a squeak. “Don’t tell Dean!”

“Why the hell wouldn’t I tell Dean?!” Sam snaps, looking at you like you’ve gone insane. “If you’re really cursed, we need all hands, and Dean-“

“He can’t know, Sam, please.” You might start crying, every word choked in your throat. “Don’t tell him.”

“I…” Sam trials off, his face dropping into a deep frown that seems to be mostly made of worry as he says your name. “What, exactly, is the curse?”

You sigh, hugging yourself as you speak. “If I don’t resolve my deepest secret, I’ll die.”

Sam blinks. “Like, die die? Death die?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” His eyes widen as the situation fully sinks in, his whole body going slack as he pulls the pieces together. “Fuck.”

You hum a soft agreement. “Fuck.”

“And why can’t I tell Dean? I mean, he’ll want to help-“

“You know why.” You whisper. “Please don’t make me say it.”

“Fuck.” Sam groans. “And you’d rather die than-“

“Yes.” You lower yourself down to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest as you stare ahead at nothing. “I’m sorry, Sam, I just. I can’t. I don’t-“ You taste the sting of metal as you bite through your cheek. “I don’t know what to do. I’m going to d-“ You cut yourself off with a choked sound, and hear the bed shift as Sam drops at your side and pulls you into a gentle hug.

“We’ll figure it out.” He mutters your name, and you make another weak, strangled noise. “I promise. You’re going to be okay.”

Over your first, weak sob, you don’t hear the door open. You only know it opens because Dean clears his throat, and your blood turns white-hot in your body, caught between embarrassment and nerves and a deep, soft and starved piece of your heart that’s trying to climb into your limbs and rip your body away from Sam’s to fly to Dean’s.

“Sammy, she-“ He cuts himself off as he sees you, and you die a little at how he says your name. Like he hates it. “You’re in here.”

You nod, keeping your face angled down, and you hear Dean shift slightly in the doorway. 

“Why are you in Sam’s room.”

There’s no good answer for that, and Sam doesn’t seem to have one either. There’s no plausible lie for why you’re on the floor on Sam’s room, why you’re sniffling, and why he’s hugging you that doesn’t sound insane. Even the truth wouldn’t exactly be an easy sell.

And it hurts. When Dean just sighs and grunts that he doesn’t want to know—that you and Sam can go back to fucking braiding each other’s hair or whatever—and stomps out of the room, it’s like a knife to your gut. But you can’t tell him. Not the truth. Not any of it.

So this will only be the first knife. And you’d worry about what you would be telling him when this was over—how you could possibly explain yourself—if you had any faith you were going to get out of this. 

But you don’t. The week crawls on, and it all only gets so much worse. Vague illness starts to feel like you’re being mauled from inside, and Dean’s anger turns to bullets.

You spend most of your days in the library with Sam, combing through book after book, looking for anything about how you can fix this, and every time Dean walks in, he looks like he wants to punch someone. Like he’s disgusted by your very presence where he can see you, like you’re a spider that’s crawled into his house and he can’t even stand the sight of you. 

“I’m getting dinner.” He snaps on the third night, and when you look up from your book—Sam standing behind you, having hunched over your body to read the passage you’d been pointing to—Dean’s jaw is clenched, his fists curled at his side. “Neither of you got groceries, so I’m ordering. What do you want.”

His voice is flat. It makes your chest feel like it’s being run over by a train.

“I’ll take whatever you get.” You offer him a small smile, because you can’t help yourself, and it just makes him glare more. “But can I please have a milkshake as well?”

Dean narrows his eyes at you. “You don’t know where the hell I’m going.”

“You’re going to the diner, Dean.” You shrug. “You always go to the diner.”

He grunts, something hot flashing over his face that you don’t understand. “Fine. Milkshake.”

He doesn’t bother to ask any follow-up questions. He doesn’t bother to wait for Sam to say what he wants. Dean just marches up to the garage, vanishes for an hour—the diner is ten minutes away, and you start to feel your stomach and heart twist the longer he’s gone—and returns with a slam of the door, throwing a salad at Sam and placing a burger and milkshake in front of you before stomping out of the library.

Dean got your favorite flavor. You hadn’t told him to, but he had.

It tastes like chalk. And you’ve never hated yourself more.

After that, he barely speaks to you. Just low grunts and glowers at you whenever you cross paths, his presence in the bunked suddenly scares. He’d usually sit with you and Sam while you read, cracking unhelpful jokes that make Sam roll his eyes and you giggle, but he’s just gone. Locked in the Dean Cave or the garage, shuffling around the kitchen with a sullen expression, swallowing his dinner whole and refusing to really even look at you.

It hurts more than any anger could. It’s lonely and cancerous the longer it goes on, because you’re still talking to and hanging out with Sam, but he doesn’t count. Your whole heart isn’t orbiting around Sam. The curse is completely indifferent to Sam. The curse doesn’t care when Sam grumbles or frowns at you. It cares when Dean hates you. You think it can feel that this won’t be resolved—because it won’t be, you grow more and more certain with every passing day that this is how you will die—and takes the opportunity to root deeper into your body. Every sneer or glare Dean gives you sits under your nails to claw at your skin. It covers you in sweat in the dead of night, and chokes you when you’re in the shower and the water’s burning your skin.

Sam keeps trying to convince you to just do it, just say the thing to Dean because the worst that can happen is that you’re heartbroken but alive.

“And I really don’t think it would even come to that.” He tells you from across the table at 2am, because you’re running out of time and sleep isn’t something you can even remember how to do anymore. “I mean, it’s Dean-“

“That’s the problem, Samuel.” You hiss. The curse has started to make you mean, and if you make it out alive, you’ll have to buy Sam a million bottles of hair gel to make up for what you’re putting him through. “It’s Dean. He already doesn’t like me-“

Sam frowns. “Why would you think that-“

“Because I’m a responsibility.” You’re spitting, and it tastes like venom. “I’m your kid shadow, I’m Dean’s kid shadow, I’m a burden-“

“You’re not a burden,” Sam says your name slowly. “To either of us. I mean, if what you said about Rowena is true, you saved Dean from the Mark-“

“That doesn’t count. That was just a deal I made-“

“A deal you made for Dean.” Sam’s pushing back. You wish he’d stop. “Most people in our lives wouldn’t have done that for us. And Dean doesn’t think you’re his kid shadow, by the way. I mean, I’ve only ever-“

“Sam.” Your voice is flat. A little broken. “Please don’t. Even if he doesn’t hate me, I- I just can’t-“

“But Dean-“

“Please.” You’re going to cry again. “You won’t convince me.”

Sam sighs, shaking his head. “Well, we need to try something. I’m not just going to let you die.”

You don’t think that’s up to Sam. You don’t think it’s up to anyone anymore. You won’t tell Dean, because you’ve scanned over book after book about spell phrasing, and decided that telling Dean wouldn’t even help. You had to resolve your deepest secret. Rejection that burns your heart to ash, that clouds your lungs and makes you cower and falter won’t be resolving anything, and then you’ll just die in more pain.

You let Sam convince you to try something. More for him than for you. You lock yourself in the bathroom and stare at your hideous reflection in the mirror—your skin a little sunken, your eyes lined with red, your lips raw from being chewed until they bled—and start speaking a whisper, because you can’t stand the sound of your own voice.

“I love Dean Winchester.” You tell yourself, as if you’re not so deeply aware of how your love is tattooed onto your every breath and heartbeat. “I love him. I am going to die, and I love him, and I am very-“ You choke slightly, your eyes stinging as the world blurs. “I am very, very sorry. Not for loving him, but for forcing him to be loved by me. I’m sorry I don’t know how to stop loving him. I’m sorry I’m leaving him. But I am not sorry for loving him. I… I spent a lifetime surrounded by cruel animals who called themselves angels, and he’s the only person I’ve ever- I could believe- I just-“ You drop your head, turning up the faucet to drown out every weak sob and apology. “I love him. And he… he’s too good be obligated to love me. So I think I’ll just…”

You trail off, and crumble onto the tile floor. When you dry your tears and yank yourself back together, Sam’s waiting for you a little down the hall. You shake your head, his shoulders slump, and that’s it. For Sam it’s not—he turns around and marches right back to the library—but for you, it is. You’re done. 

You’ll hole up in your room and die alone. Like how’d you’d been meant to all along, lent only a little bit of extra time by Dean saving you to begin with.

And that time had run out. So you’ll just go die alone.

lay flat on your bed as your vision starts to dance with spots, and spend your time trying to image what a heaven you’re not allowed into will look like. Cas has told you every person gets their own, but you don’t really want that. It sounds like more of your life, and it’s pointless to worry about because you’re headed nowhere but down, but you’d still rather spend eternity with someone.

One person. You’d like to spend eternity with one person. 

The same person who had somehow gotten into your locked room, and is snapping your name as he stands at the foot of your bed. You’d be angrier he’d just barged in if you could remember how to be anything but in pain. You’d snap back if your mouth knew how to be anything but numb. 

“Dean-“

“What the fuck are you doing.” Dean hisses, and you close your eyes, the light suddenly painfully bright. “What the hell is wrong with you.”

“Nothing.” You whisper, and he scoffs. 

“Nice shot, sweetheart. I’m not an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Dean, I just don’t feel well.”

“That’s fucking bullshit-“

You sigh. “It’s not. I’m sick.” 

There’s a moment of silence, then, “how sick.”

“Fever.” You mumble. “Stomach bug. Maybe the flu. You should probably leave-“

“No,” he grunts, and you hear his steps. He’s coming closer, and your skin might be boiling off your body. “I’m not leaving you-“

“It’s not leaving if I ask you to go.” You mumble, and you can feel the heat of his body off to the side, can hear his breathing—maybe even his heartbeat—and it’s making everything worse-

“I’m not going.”

“Dean, just, please-“

“No, I’m sick of you fucking ignoring me, and I- I don’t even care what’s going on with you and Sam-“

You frown. “Nothing’s going on with me and Sam-“

“I have eyes,” Dean sneers your name, and there’s a tone in his voice that’s almost wounded. “You were hugging in his room, you’re always fucking whispering and hanging out-“

“That’s not-“ You swallow, dragging your eyes open to find him glaring down at you. He looks wounded too. “It’s for a case.”

“What case? A case that I’m not allowed to know about? Because that’s not a case, sweetheart, that’s a secret-“

You almost throw up, just from that word. “It’s- I’m not keep any secrets, Dean, just please go-“

“No!” He’s almost shouting, and the sound is like a cannon into your gut. “I don’t know what the hell is up with you, but you’re suddenly putting yourself in danger, and stuck to my brother, and you’re not talking to me anymore-“

“You’re not talking to me, Dean.” You whisper, his gaze burning you right down to the cavity of your chest. “I’m always in the library-“

“Yeah, I know, with Sam.” Dean scowls, and you’re too tired to think almost anything, but that’s strange. Dean never says Sam like that. Like it’s a horrible word. 

“It’s not a big deal,” you say, watching Dean carefully. “He’s helping me with something-“

“Something I can’t help you with?”

You blink, ready to lie and say no, but your mush of a brain doesn’t appear to be up to that task. “No.”

Dean’s brow furrows slightly. “So I could help you.”

“I-“ You feel a stab in your intestine, and your voice grows hoarse. “Please don’t ask me that.”

“Why-“

“Because I- Just go away, Dean-“

He shakes his head, saying your name in a stern, unwavering voice. “Could I help you-“

“N-“ You swallow a groan as your lungs contract, and this is dangerous. You’re too far gone to lie anymore, and that’s the only chance you have. If Dean keeps poking at you, you’ll tell the truth. You can’t tell the truth. “Please just leave me alone-“

“I’m not leaving you alone.” He snaps, dropping onto the side of your bed to prove his point. “You never left me alone, with the Mark-“

“That’s not-“ You can’t swallow your next sound of pain, or the whine that leaves your throat when Dean’s hand grabs your thigh. “Dean, please go-“

“Do you want me to go.”

“No.” You say it before you can think, and hate that the pain over your muscles lessens when Dean stays, and when his hand starts to rub slow circles. “But you- you have to-“

“I said I’m staying.” He grunts. “And you’re not changing my mind, sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“I did.” You whisper, closing your eyes again. Looking at his handsome, annoyingly determined face isn’t helping anyone. “I’m sick.”

“Fine. What’s making you sick.”

“Curse.”

Fuck.

Dean’s silent for a long moment, then-

“What the fuck do you mean, curse.”

“Me.” You mumble. “Curse on me.”

“And how did a curse get on you-“

“Rowena.”

“That fucking bitch.” He mutters, and you feel his grip on you tighten slightly. Almost protectively. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me-“

That was probably a rhetorical question. Your sudden truth-telling streak doesn’t seem to care at all. “I was worried you’d hate me.”

“I- what?”

“I was worried-“

“I heard you,” he grunts. “I just, why the hell would you ever think I’d hate you-“

“Because I suck.” You whisper. “And I can’t- I don’t deserve you.”

Dean’s silent again. You wish he’d stop doing that. “You think you don’t deserve me?”

You nod, barely a movement at all, and Dean groans. You’re still not strong enough to look at him.

“Sweetheart, you- I’m not-“ He cuts himself off, his hand resuming his circles, you’re not sure he knows he’s doing it. “I’m going to ask you something, and you need to tell me the truth. Got it?”

You hum. Like you’d even have a choice.

“What will cure the curse.”

“I need to,” you try to fight down the words, but you’re light-headed and faint and Dean’s hand is really warm, so you fail. “I need to resolve my deepest secret.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “What’s your deepest secret?”

You’re going to bite off your tongue. And when Dean says your name again, his voice a little rougher, it drags your eyes open to stare at him. Watching you with a focus you can feel in your bones, that’s prying the truth out of you, and he’s just looking at you and you can’t do this-

“Dean, I-“ You digs your nails into your skin, something flashes in his eyes, and you can’t look away. But you can’t stop yourself either, and if you have to watch Dean’s disgust, that might kill you right here. “Please turn around.”

He frowns. “What?”

“I need you to turn around.” You whisper. “Please.”

He nods slowly, twisting away from you, and it’s like a green light to your stupid, traitorous mouth. The words fall out of you like vomit, and if this is the end, at least it might be fast. 

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years, and I’m sorry, but I can’t stop, and I don’t want to stop, and I love you. Only you. Just you. Can’t remember how to love anyone else, because I love you. I love your jokes and your grumpiness and how protective you are because you make me feel safe, and I love that you’re kind of a dork and a loser but you’re also so hot, I love your voice and your face and your hands, and I and I want you in a, um-“ You squeeze your thighs together, staring at the suddenly rapid rise and fall of Dean’s back. “A way that I shouldn’t talk about-“

“How do you want me.” He grunts, his voice low and a little gruff, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks.

“On me.” You whisper. “In me. I want you on my face and in my hands and fuck, I want your inside of me. But I also want to wake up next to you and hold your hand and fall asleep in your lap, and fuck-“

You cut yourself off with a whine as something sharp hits your right in the heart, and Dean’s silent. He’s not turning around, or leaving, or doing anything but sitting and breathing for so long, for too long-

“You-“ He shakes his head slightly, and you could swear he’s leaning slightly backward. “You want me.”

“Yeah, I- yes.”

“You love me.”

“Yes.” Too late to go back now. “I love you, Dean.”

“Why- why didn’t you tell me?”

He sounds broken. He sounds sad.

You’re so confused. It’s almost enough to distract from the pain racking your whole body.

“I- I didn’t think you’d-“ Not care. Dean couldn’t not care. He cares too much. “I wasn’t sure what-“

“What I’d say?”

“What you’d do.”

“What would you-“ He’s definitely leaning back. He’s closer, too. “What would you want me to do?”

“What would I want?” 

Dean nods.

“I- it doesn’t matter-“

“Yes it-“ He sighs, twisting around to face you. You can’t read the expression on his face. It’s lost and it’s afraid and it’s… hopeful. There’s this small light that’s so deep in his eyes that seems like real, true hope. “Please,” he mutters your name, and you might be melting. “Just, entertain me. What would you want me to do?”

“I’d want to tell me you love me.” You whisper, and if this curse is going to kill you, you hope it does it now, right before you lose all your dignity forever. “Like I love you.”

Dean shakes his head slightly, and your heart might be splitting in half. “But I- I tried to kill you-“

“The demon tried to kill me. That wasn’t really you-“

“Yes, it was-“

“No.” Your voice gains a little strength, and you push up on your elbows. “You saved me, Dean. You rescued me from the angels-“

“Anyone would’ve done that-“

“But they didn’t.” You snap. “You did. And I don’t love anyone, I love you.”

“That’s-“ He groans, his voice growing hoarse. “You- why?”

“What do you mean, why-“

“Why would you love me? I mean, unless this is some sick, fucked up prank-“

“It’s not a prank-“

“Well why?” He shouts your name, and he looks distressed. Like this is shredding him apart. “Why the hell would you love me-“

“Because I like loving you.” You grab his hand, his own panic starting to set into your own body, making this all the worse. “It feels right. And I- I know you don’t love me-“

You’re not sure what’s happening. Dean’s hands are cupping your face, and his mouth is on yours, and he tastes like whiskey and coffee and pecan, and you feel okay. You really feel okay. All the pain and sickness is dissolving from your body, and Dean is kissing you. Kissing you with an unforgiving, demanding desperation, his tongue down your throat and his body lowering down over yours, pinning you to the bed as he groans against your lips.

The sound jumpstarts something in you. Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck right before he can pull away or hesitate, and you throw everything he’s silently offering you back to him. Biting on his lower lip and wrapping your legs around his torso, grinding up into him as he makes a deep, satisfied noise and moves one hand to wrap around you waist, holding you steady against him as he rises up, moving you to stay in his lap.

“You’re, shit.” Dean lets out a low chuckle, pressing a small, gentler kiss to the tip of your nose as you breathe in ragged time. “You’re such a fucking idiot, sweetheart.”

You lean back to frown at him. “No I’m not-“

“Yeah, you are. But I am too.” He sighs, dropping his head to the crook of your neck and speaking against your skin. “Seems like we’re made for each other, huh.”

“Dean, I-“

“Wait, just-“ Dean kisses up the column of your throat, ending right behind your ear, and his voice a low sound that falls right down into your core. “Gimme a second.”

“Dean-“

“Please,” he mutters, and when you pull back he looks nervous. It’s strange, but adorable, and you nod. He needs a second, you’ll give him a million. Anything to keep him here a little longer, to keep the ebb of the sickness going. 

“Okay.” You whisper, and—taking the biggest gamble of your life—lean forward to kiss him again. Just a light, almost innocent press of your lips to his. He tenses, his arms around you tightening, and you’d have panicked if it didn’t seem like he was clinging to you. Like he was afraid you were going to vanish. 

“I- uh,” Dean says your name slowly, and it’s odd. You’ve heard him say it exactly like that a million, but this feels deeper. Like a prayer. “I lo-“ He cuts himself off, his brow drawing tightly together, and you can feel your heart in your throat. Set to either explode or move into Dean as you hold your breath. “You. I- you- it’s- fuck.” He scowls, and you offer him your gentler smile, running a hand over the soft stubble on his jaw, even as you feel your blood start to go cold again.

“Dean, you don’t have to-“

“Yeah. I do, I-“ He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles and speaking against them as if he’s trying to tell your body more than your mind. “I love you. A lot. So stop being cursed.”

You stare at him, your voice barely a breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

“Did it work?”

It did. The curse seemed to vanish the moment Dean kissed you—like it knew that what he was trying to tell you before he even said it—but now the world is just color and light and Dean. It’s enchanting. He’s enchanting. He’s all genuine and powerful focus on you, and. worry that makes you feel warm, and love you can suddenly see everywhere on him. You don’t know how you missed it before, because it’s in his eyes and coating his lips and in every flex of his body around you. It would knock you down if he wasn’t holding you. 

“Yeah.” You smile at Dean, and his own mouth tugs up slightly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He shrugs. “Any time. I, uh, sorry about getting pissed about you and Sam.“

“It’s fine, I-“ You paused, frowning at him. “Were you jealous?”

He scowls, his cheeks turning a little red. “Obviously.”

“Of Sam-“

“You were really close with him all the time.” Dean snaps. “And I- you seemed pissed at me, and super stressed, and usually you’d come to me for that stuff, but you were hugging Sam and talking to him instead of me-“

“Because I don’t love Sam. I love you, that’s why I told you-”

“I didn’t fucking know that.” He grumbles. “I- Sam doesn’t know everything about how I feel about you, but he knew enough, and I- I thought you were choosing him- And I- You’re not my girl but you felt like my girl and I didn’t-“

“Your girl?” Your face splits into a wide smile, and some of the tension seems to leave Dean as he nods. 

“Yeah. If you want.”

“Yes.” You squeak, and Dean’s hand starts to run slowly down your thigh. “Yes, please.”

“You sure?” He raises his brows, and it’s really hard to think when he’s so close, and this is suddenly overwhelmingly real. He’s really broad and warm against you, and he’s really touching you, and he said the thing but that doesn’t mean-

“Yeah, but are, are you sure-“

“Baby, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” He drawls, and you swallow as he leans in closer, his nose bumping yours. “And I’d be very happy to prove that.”

“Prove it?” You whisper, your eyes trapped onto his glimmering, darkened ones. “I, um, that, how-“

“However you’d like,” he says your name with a smirk, and it’s amazing how any all insecurity he had only a minute ago seems to have vanished. “You wanna tell me how’d you want me to prove it? Or do you need some suggestions?”

You might be drooling. “Suggestions, please.”

Dean hums, holding you carefully as he rises on his knees, bends you down onto the mattress, and starts to trace slow, taunting hands over your body.

“We could start slow,” he mutters, playing with the hem of your shorts, broad fingers brushing over your skin. “I could take my time with you, sweetheart. Do the proper thing, take you out to dinner and movie, wait until the third date to give you everything-“

“No!” You yelp. “Not slow-“

Dean’s hand slides under your shorts, his palm resting right over your already sore pussy, and he chuckles at your high gasp. 

“Alright, baby, not slow.” He leans down to pull you into a long, slow kiss, smirking against your lips as you start to grind into his hand. “But we’re going on a date. I’ve had years to plan it, wouldn’t want all my hard work to go to waste.”

You nod a little stupidly, your nails digging into his arm braced near your head. “How- what do you mean years-“

“You’re not the only one who had that at first sight thing.” Dean mutters, shaking his head slightly. “I’ve lost sleep over you, baby girl. We’re going to do this right, no witches involved, but,” he drops his head to kiss right behind your ear, humming as a high moan escapes your lips. “I’ve got a million things I want to do you, and fuck me if I’m going waste time not doing them.”

“Yeah, good, do that-“ You gasp as Dean’s thumb finds your clothed clit, starting to draw firm, fast circles around it. “Shit, Dean-“

“That’s my name.” He growls in your ear, flicking against you and smirking at your high whine. “C’mon, sweetheart gotta get you ready for me-“

“I, I’m ready-“

He chuckles. “No, you’re not. Wanna make you feel good, not break you.”

“What if, fuck-“ You feel a brief, sharp moment of cold air as Dean pulls your shorts and panties down, shoving two fingers into your cunt. He’s watching you so carefully, like he’s studying your every hitched breath and blurred gaze, smirking as he begins to slowly move inside of you, scissoring and crooking and pushing in deeper every time-

“What if what, pretty girl?” He teases, his pace increasing slightly. “Use your words.”

Your back arches off the bed as Dean re-angles his hand, pressing his palm to your clit and starting to rub strong, sharp circles as his fingers reach a blissful, almost painfully good pace, but remain too shallow to hit that sensitive spot deep your cunt and send you over the edge. “What if I want you to break me?” You gasp, your arm wrapping around his neck as he groans, dropping his brow against yours. “Please, Dean-“

“You, fuck-“ He grunts your name, and you feel something prodding at your inner thigh. “Not now, baby, need to be gentle-“

“No you don’t-“

“Yeah, I do.” Dean’s movements still as he rises on his knees over you, and you’re pretty certain the authoritative thing is supposed to be stern and intimidating, but it’s mostly just making you grind on his hand and reach up for him pathetically.

“Dean-“

“Listen to me.” He snaps, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the mattress, sighing as you moan again, squeezing around his fingers, still in your cunt. “Fuck, you nearly just died-“

“I’m okay now.” You whisper. “I feel great. I feel, fuck Dean, I feel so good-“

He hisses as you spread your legs, writhing on the bed for anything, at this point you’ll take anything Dean offers you-

“Fuck yeah, you do.” He mutters, his fingers starting to pump slowly again, scanning over your body with an almost awestruck expression. “Bet you feel like heaven, baby girl, but we need to go slow. I promise I can wreck you later, but today-“

“Slow.” You sigh, and he nods.

“Slow. But,” Dean’s free hand starts to trail under your shirt, palming at your breasts, rolling your nipples between calloused, strong fingers. “Doesn’t mean we can’t take care of you, sweetheart. I’m going to fuck this tight little pussy, still going to get you fucking cockdrunk. Okay?”

You nod, your eyes slightly glazed over, and Dean bends his fingers deep inside you, right one that spot, letting out a low gasp as you whine.

“Say okay, sweetheart.” He grunts, his hand moving from your breast, over your neck, to your mouth, pressing his thumb on your lower lip until it parts. You moan against him, your eyes fluttering slightly, and you’re already too high, too needy, to do anything but listen.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He coos, slowly pushing his thumb between your lips, his nostrils flaring when you start to suck on him with an abandon. “Fuck, so good, I can’t wait to ruin you, baby, you’re never gonna even think about another cock-“

You haven’t thought about another cock in years, and you haven’t even seen it yet. But Dean’s thumb is bumping the back of your throat, so all you can do is moan, give him your best pleading look, and let your head fall back as Dean’s fingers finally move inside of you, pushing and playing on the spot until your orgasm washes over you in bright waves of good. So good. Just, fuck, he’s good-

Dean’s thumb pulls out of your mouth with a pop, and he wipes a little bit of spit off on your upper lip before lowering his mouth to yours, this kiss far too soft and gentle for how you think you might die if he doesn’t fuck you now.

“Look so pretty, cumming on my hand.” Dean moves to the shell of your ear, his growling promise sending a shiver up your spine. “Bet you’ll look prettier fucking squeezing my cock.”

You barely have time to whimper when Dean yanks his fingers out of your cunt, rolls you over so you’re straddling his torso, and raises you up by your hips before pushing you right down onto his dick. You don’t even remember when he took off his pants, or where your shirt went, but those are worries for someone who isn’t being split open on Dean’s cock. Who doesn’t have him drawing small circles on their inner thigh, or isn’t being held up by his hand on their waist.

But you do. You have Dean everywhere, real and warm under your hands as you grip his shoulders, bumping deep against your cervix as he lets you adjust to the size of him, one broad finger reaching down to press—light and taunting—on your clit, and groaning as you squeeze around him.

“Shit,” Dean grunts your name, looking up at you under hooded eyes in a way you don’t think anyone’s ever looked at you before. As if you’re somewhere they’d always expected to be, and they’re still in awe that you’re there. “Gotta be careful, want this to-“

Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you grind on him experientially, clenching again as he hits that electric spot deep inside you. He grabs you firm by your hips, stilling your every movement as he gives you a stern glower. 

“You need to listen.” His voice is gravely and lower than you’ve ever heard it, and you’d do whatever he told you to, but that doesn’t mean you can’t whine and scratch lightly at his chest. 

“Dean, move-“

“You gonna listen?”

“Yes, just, fuck-“ You gasp as he pulls you up with barely a grunt, slamming your right back down with a roll of your hips. 

“Want you to feel good, baby girl, but you need to be careful,” Dean drags one had down to squeeze your ass, his hand still on your waist drawing light circles around your clit. “Or next time might be more than wrecking.”

Your moan is vulgar and shameless, and you’re more than ready to devote sleep to figuring out what more than wrecking will look like, but right now you just fucking need this. 

“Need more, Dean,” you whisper. “Need it so bad-“

“I know, sweetheart.” He mutters, trailing his hand up your stomach to squeeze your breast, groaning when you squirm around him. “Think you’re ready to ride this cock? Think you can handle, shit-“

You’d stared to move the movement he’d said ride, rolling your body and arching your back, dragging every bit of confidence you have to grind down onto Dean’s cock, your nails sinking into his abdomen.

“Fuck, yeah.” Dean’s voice is a breath under you, and when you scan over him, he lookslike he’sa little wrecked himself.His eyes on yours are hooded and low, his voice dripping with that same dominating confidence, but something more delicate in the way he’s touching you. Not as if he’s afraid to break you, but afraid you’ll shatter him. 

And you did that. You wrecked Dean. And that lights a wildfire in your gut, running through your nerves until they’re sensitive and bare, and into your brain until it’s all just Dean.

You start to move. Slowly at first to test the waters, but—when Dean just groans and ruts up into you—quickly picking up pace until you’re bouncing on Dean’s cock, your thighs squeezing his torso and your clit rubbing on his abdomen, his ever grunt and hiss and bruising grip just making your need grow bigger as you slam him onto that deep spot-

“Shit, I’m- Slow down-“ 

Dean’s hiss is low, and you immediately obey, changing to long, slow movements as Dean hums. 

“There you go baby, such a good girl.” His hand moves from your ass to your lower back, rubbing soothing patterns as he praises you. “You’re so hot baby, fucking ruined on my cock-“

You make a high, breathless sound you don’t recognize, moving your hips in a circle to try and chase more friction, and Dean chuckles.

“You alright up there-“

“Good,” you moan, your eyes fluttering shut to try and focus your all on Dean beneath you. “So good, Dean, feels so good-“

“Need a little more?”

“Yes-“

“More descriptive than that, sweet girl.” He teases, and when this is done, you’re going to kill him. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to-“

“You,” the word falls out without thought, because most of you belongs to Dean. “Just you, only need you-“

“You love me?” Dean’s voice is low, and when you open your eyes to look at him, there’s a small chink in his armor. You don’t know if you pried it open, or if you’ve just never noticed, but you can see right into him, and he still doesn’t really believe that you love him.

And that’s the only thing you’ve ever really know. You loving Dean has been the only truly certain thing in your life, because Dean’s a given and loving him feels like breathing.

So you smile at him, reaching forward to cup his face, and tell him with everything you have, hoping he can hear how the words are in time with your heart.

“I love you,” you whisper. “And I’m yours.”

He blinks at you, shaking his head slightly even as his dick twitches inside you. “You don’t need to be, it’s- you know, dirty talk-“

“I know.” You shrug. “I’m still yours.”

Dean’s nostrils flare, and you know you’re not getting control back from him for the rest of the night.

You’re fine with that. Dean starts to rock you back and forth around him, letting you just fall into and around him, and your lost to any world that isn’t Dean. Isn’t his hand splayed on your lower back or his fingers digging into the skin of your hips and ass. Anything that isn’t his cock hitting part of you that you didn’t know existed and filling you up so much you’re not sure how you’re ever going to manage being empty again.

You don’t think you will have to manage. Dean’s holding you like he’s trying to brand himself on your body, like he needs you feel him for the rest of your life. And you will. You’ll feel the bliss Dean’s drawing from your body that’s better than any heaven you could have imagined, rising slowing below the surface, ready to burst at any moment.

You’ll hear him too. Hear every deep noise of his own pleasure, hear the slapping of his skin on yours, hear his low praise echo around your head and ribs for the rest of your life.

“You’re mine, baby girl.” He growls, the sound rumbling in his chest and rolling right into your pussy, making you throw your head back with a breathy whimper. “Fuck, you’re so hot riding me, feel so good around me, tight and warm-“

Dean cuts himself off with a hiss as you reach behind your body, your hand finding his balls to squeeze lightly. 

“Goddamnit, sweetheart-“ He groans, jerking slightly inside of you. “Fuck, keep doing that, so fucking needy for me, fucking soaking this cock-“

You grind around him, and his pace starts to lose rhythm. Even after he swats your hand away you know he’s lost his own self-control, and fuck he looks hot without it. Starting to rut up into you in uncontrolled movements, pulling you to pieces with a lustful, ardorous gaze and brutal pace and strong hands, moving back to your clit and rolling it between his fingers-

Your mouth falls open in a silent, needy cry of pleasure as your orgasm bursts over you. It’s not sudden, but you couldn’t never anticipated the power of it—like someone had doused you in gasoline that smells like whiskey and fruit, lit a match, and turned to into a star—or how it rides on and on, never seeming to crest or crash as Dean slams home inside of you, warmth coating your pussy and running down your thighs as he moans your name. 

Dean helps you float down to earth, leaving careful, deliberate touches on your skin and humming as his knees rising up to support you. You watch his gaze rakes down your body, lingering on where he can see himself spill out of your pussy, and moves to slowly drag through the mess, gathering some on two fingers before rising them up to your mouth. You open without hesitation and his throat bobs, his cock twitching inside you as you lick his release off his hand, your eyes never leaving his wide, reverent one.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters. “How the hell did I get so lucky?”

You let out a soft laugh. “You stole my line.”

“Nah.” He shrugs, tracing a hand over your cheek. “You could have anyone you want, baby, but you’re here, with an asshole like me-“

“You’re not an asshole.”

“Yeah, I am.” He shrugs, like you can’t see how his own words pierce him through that chink. “Shit, I just accused you of sleeping with Sam-“

“And I’ve been lying to you for years.” You lean down, resting your chin on his chest, giving him your widest smile. “Neither of us are saints, Dean. And I happen to be the right kind of fucked up to let possessiveness hot.” You pause, giving him your best stern glare. “To a degree. I will slap you the next time you accuse me of fucking Sam.” 

Dean laughs, his around wrapped—gentle and relaxed—around you. “Yes, ma’am.”

You hum, resting your head to the side, and you might be here for a hundred years. Time blurs and slows until it’s just Dean’s heartbeat near your ear, his thumb tracing a pattern on your arm, and his face buried in your hair. The end of the world might have already come to pass when his hand moves to your chin and he angles your gaze to his, and you wouldn’t really care. You’re still where you need to be.

“Would you,” he lets out a slow breath, all his cocky arrogance gone, his eyes on yours nervous. The hope is back, but it’s wrapped in soft fear. “I’m not good at- shit-“

He’s going to hurt himself, and you take pity on him. You lean does to press a sweet kiss to his mouth, letting your tongue trail over his lips, and rising back up with a small smile.

“Can we go on a date, Dean?” 

He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah. Whatever you want, baby girl.”

Your smile strains at your cheeks, because you only want Dean. 

And you’ll have to write Rowena a thank you note, because you finally have him.

End Note: Me make a story with no prior lore challenge: impossible

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery @nightxcreature @sthefferrete @lyarr24

@deansbbyx @bakugotypecrashout @foolinthera1n @globetrotter28 @lordofthunderthr

@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @elle14-blog1

@impala67rollingthroughtown @dumb--blonde @itsdearapril @apobangpo-0613 @alwaystiredandconfused

@arcticwisteria @generalmoonpolice @foxyjwls007

[hellsslibrary]

Hellooooo!! i just saw your post asking for requests and stuff, so uh

here i aaaaam :3

i was wondering if you can do sub! lucifer or barbatos :p

you can do like literally whatever but i am STARVED for sub composed men that eventually are not-so-composed (i wanna see grown men cry)

"Shh... Don't think that water will save us from others."

#a.n. : I'M SO FERAL ABOUT THIS ONE SHOWER CARD OMG.... So shower sex with Luci where you drive him crazy lol.

!!Warnings: Top!Dom!Male!Reader, Sub!Bottom!Lucifer, fingering, finger sucking, shower sex obviously, praise, teasing, a little crying, overstimulation (this is not mentioned but implied), no penetration, Reader is MC, this all take place after the events of the card with skateboards, open final.

The sound of groans and slight squelching sounds was heard in the bathroom. But everything is easily hidden from others outside this room by the sounds of water and a spell cast on the walls.

Your fingers have been moving inside Lucifer for God knows how long, and you made no attempt to stop. Not that Lucifer minded; the stamina of demons is much higher than that of humans, but damn, this was getting too good.

How many times did he cum? He doesn’t remember anymore, and you didn’t count either. Just the fact that you finally managed to convince him to take a break after he worked so wonderfully on creating the best skateboard is already a miracle. But Lucifer himself understood that he deserved it... And how could he disagree when you were so sensitive to making sure he took breaks while working earlier?

"M-MC...Are you ever going to stop?" He asks, still being able to somehow spit out a complete sentence without almost stumbling over the letters.

"Mmm... No, I guess. You're not even at your limit yet, why should I stop?" A rhetorical question comes from your lips, which makes Lucifer’s legs tremble with excitement.

He is clearly not at the limit of his strength, far from it. But you will spend a very long time here if you want to bring him to this line, which is what you actually wanted. You just wanted him to break, in the nicest sense of the word.

Your fingers slid so perfectly inside his already soaking wet walls, each time pressing on a tiny spot that made him moan with pleasure. His dick was constantly rubbing against the shower wall, smearing his cum from several orgasms all over the wall. Lucifer’s palms lay lazily on the wall, and he rested his forehead on them to hide his red little face, which of course you didn’t want, but you didn’t really mind.

"Are you already brought to a complete state of bliss, if you understand what I'm hinting at, Luci?" The only answer to your question was a shake of the head.

But little did you know that it was a lie.

Lucifer felt like he was ready to dissolve, turn into a puddle from the movement of your fingers in him. He felt his entire being being torn apart in the most pleasant sense of the word. He felt like his whole brain was ceasing to function, because he had not been aware of it for a long time.

He's not even sure he can control his own body. A rare moment of vulnerability for him.

Lucifer realizes that his mask will soon crack. It will break like a crack in glass that will break it sooner or later. His self-control will burst.

Or rather, it has already done it.

“Are you crying, precious? Very good, relax, no one will hurt you here...” You whisper when you see tears running down the part of his downward-leaning face that you can see.

He groans when he realizes your fingers are playing with his tongue, making him whine. Such a humiliating sound for him, the Avatar of Pride himself. He shouldn't make sounds like that, but honestly? Fuck it all.

His head leans back, resting on your shoulder. His back collides with your torso. His hips try to match the movement and rhythm of your fingers, moving with them. And his mouth sucks your fingers, as if his life depended on it... Although he will obviously remember this for a long time later.

“Come on, let go,” You whisper in his ear, kissing his cheek, feeling the salty taste of his tears and looking down, slightly surprised that he came at that very second, but absolutely satisfied.

Lucifer hums around your fingers in mock displeasure when you don't slow down your movements even for a moment. He understands that he will regret this.

But it feels so fucking good.

“MC... You... will break me...” He whispers, muffled by your fingers, barely able to form a simple sentence as he feels your fingers deliberately aiming specifically for his prostate.

“Hush, baby,” You coo, he wants to drown in your voice, he realizes that he can’t even hear the sound of water. "Just relax, I won't eat you, you're so fucking good."

He nods. The movement is convulsive, clearly not smooth, and so unusual for Lucifer. You just smirk at this, kissing his neck, making him whimper, wiping away his tears.

After all... Maybe he won't regret this experience as much as he thought.

[aphroditelovesu]

Hi, can you please write a Yan!Daenerys prompt 27?

[27]; "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

❝tw: mention of death, mildly angst (?) and obsessive behavior.

The smell of ash and blood filled King's Landing almost like a plague. The screams of those burned by Drogon, once so excruciating, became just uncomfortable memories in Daenerys' mind.

For that was all they would eventually become. It wasn't right but Daenerys didn't care. She no longer cared about becoming what she became. As long as she had you in her life, the entire world could be consumed by dragon fire.

You were all that mattered to her.

Daenerys watched the devastation around her, her eyes fixed on the smoldering ruins of the city that once represented the heart of the Realm. Her expression was a mix of cold determination and a rare tenderness reserved only for you.

She did it for you. All for you.

"I did this for us. For you." Daenerys whispered in awe, more to herself than anyone else. Your presence beside her was an anchor amidst the chaos, a shining light in the darkness she had created.

You looked at her as if you no longer recognized her and, in a way, that was true. This was no longer the Daenerys you knew and once loved. This was a shell of what she once was.

A woman dominated by grief and the fear of losing someone else she loved. And only the gods knew what Daenerys would do to the world if something happened to you.

"Some things need to be destroyed so that others can flourish." She continued, turning to look at you. "They would never understand. They would never accept the world I want to build."

You felt the weight of his words, the intensity of his gaze. There was a deep pain there, a loneliness that only you seemed able to alleviate. Even with all the power and destruction she commanded, Daenerys was, deep down, a woman looking for love and acceptance. And she wanted that from you, just you.

Her gaze, although filled with burning passion, had a coldness that hadn't existed before. The glow in her eyes was now more intense, but also emptier, as if an essential part of her humanity had been consumed by the fire of her own despair.

And it hurt. The sight of a person you loved, maybe still love, being destroyed like this was too much to bear.

"You didn't have to do that." You tried to say, trying to reach the real Daenerys that remained somewhere inside her. "You didn't need to destroy King's Landing, you didn't need to burn all those people and destroy their home. There was another way, there always is."

But your words seemed to be lost in the freezing winter wind, swallowed by the distant sound of echoes from a city in ruins. She lifted her head and the strength in her voice left no room for doubt. "I can't go back anymore." She declared. "What's done is done. And now, you're all I have."

There was a palpable fear in her words, a fear of what might happen if you walked away, a fear that made her cry out for your presence, not just as a partner, but as her anchor in a sea of ​​uncertainty. Not that she would let you get away, but she wouldn't want to hold you prisoner.

Daenerys looked at you with an intensity that mixed love and despair, her voice a painful whisper filled with truth. "My dark nature is a reflection of the depth of my love for you. I know I'm a monster, but I'm your monster."

Her words seemed to hang heavy in the air like a sentence of condemnation and devotion at the same time. She was not just revealing herself, but giving herself completely, displaying her scars and shadows as if they were a sign of absolute love.

What was left of Daenerys, the woman you loved and feared, was desperate to hold on to what she still could hold, even if it meant sacrificing the world around her. And when you looked into her violet eyes, you knew there was no going back.

She was your monster. Your queen. And she loved you so hard that she would be willing to burn the world to the ground, even if that wasn't your desire. It didn't matter in the end, though. Daenerys would always hold on to you.

[catcake24]

Universal Misunderstandings

Summary: Based on @keferon's Mech Pilot Jazz AU. Jazz is a Mech Pilot who gets lost in space.

I wrote this in like... an hour, so I'm sorry if it isn't very good. I just needed to get it out, even if it's a little clunky. (Also I don't write Jazz and Prowl often, so they might be a bit ooc)

If you had asked Jazz what was the craziest thing he ever saw, he would say the moment the giant ships entered earth’s atmosphere for the first alien invasion. Or maybe when he joined the mecha program to fight those aliens, and saw the mecha suits they would be piloting for the first time.

He wasn’t sure if meeting a race of giant robots was any crazier than that, but it was at least top three now.

Being a mecha pilot was surprisingly routine in some ways, similar to the times he was a NASCAR driver in some strange ways. How he would check his machine before every mission, how he piloted it like it was an extension of him, and how painfully aware he was of the danger all around him.

Only now, instead of being at risk of crashing into another driver or spinning off the track, he was at risk of being killed by giant aliens with five faces and so many tentacles.

No one was even sure why the aliens attacked in the first place, only that they desired some sort of potent energy source that was only discovered after they drove the aliens from one of their mines on Earth - and what was found in them revolutionized their technology forever.

They called them Lightning Crystals, based on the blue glow and the little shocks they delivered. The crystals were rare, but extremely potent in energy unparalleled by anything on earth.

Exactly what they needed. Oh, sure for solving global warming and creating efficient technology of course. But they also were the missing element in the new M.E.C.H. program – giant robots which could be controlled by a single person, able to pack as much punch as the aliens. With the Lightning Crystals, they could power these giant machines and finally drive them from their planet.

Jazz was one of the top pilots, though his Mech Suit was focused on rescuing people from peril and buying time as they evacuated a city that would be attacked. It was almost once a month, or several times if they were unlucky – the aliens would land, attempt to get a foothold on their planet, but were driven off by the Mecha. Only to appear again the next time.

And so, the routine was set. Go out, punch some aliens, retreat and recover, and start all over again later. It wasn’t glamourous, but Jazz knew he was doing his part in protecting the planet.

That changed when the Space Program was initialized.

The director of MECH realized they needed some sort of foothold in space, to fight back before they landed on the planet and destroy the ships they had just out of striking range out in the void.

Jazz was selected as one of the first, as his smaller robot would be more ideal for space travel – or so they told him, he wasn’t totally sure if that was bullshit or not anymore.

And so, Jazz found himself being launched into space to fight Aliens. He wasn’t sure when exactly his life turned into an anime, but it definitely felt like one.

During the fight though, something went wrong.

Jazz had been thrown into one of their ships, there was frantic beeping and flashing, and suddenly he felt his whole body feel every sensation at once – and when he got his bearings and noticed the ship was in motion again, he realized, with a sinking terror, that he couldn’t see earth in any direction around him.

His worst fears were only confirmed when he was thrown off the small space shuttle, and couldn’t contact ground support after he crashed onto an unknown planet.

He had to take a few hours to himself, and screamed inside his mech suit’s protective armour. Jazz didn’t know when he passed out from crying, but he felt somewhat refreshed. Not any better, but… not exhausted.

All things considered… he would be alright for a little while. He found more lightning crystals on the planet, and had some rations he could stretch out for awhile. But he wasn’t sure what to do, without any idea where he was or how to contact home.

He set up his homing beacon, and just hoped again all odds that maybe it would be picked up by someone.

-

Prowl wasn’t a very social cybertronian, everyone knew that about him. He wasn’t anti-social, but he didn’t have an easy time communicating with others.

He would be too blunt, or maybe just not react the right way, and suddenly they were upset for reasons he didn’t immediately recognize. He got better at learning what was and wasn’t acceptable in the broad terms, but he struggled with specifics sometimes.

But Prowl was also brilliant – that wasn’t ego, it was repeated often enough that even he had to accept it. The Tac-Net within his processor was faster than any standard internal strategy computer, but that was only a tool. His processor was able to churn through all the data it gave him, and utilize it to its fullest extent with his own creativity and intelligence.

It made him one of the vital assets to the Autobots, and later to the combined cybertronian armies which fought the Quintessons – a walking battle computer, able to analyze a battle field and begin a counter strategy before the opponent even realized it.

So, his communication issue was merely a minor inconvenience in comparison.

Even still, he didn’t have many friends, and he was used to his own company. Prowl didn’t think on it often, just focusing on his task.

Prowl was alone while crossing a large stretch of uninhabited space, a spiral galaxy system which consisted of planets either barren or void of sentient life, when he received the ping on his console.

Unknown Energy Signature, Distress Beacon Detected. Prowl frowned as he read across his screen, because it didn’t make sense at first. He pulled the ship around for a second look before he lost the signal, and saw it was located on a nearby planet.

His Tac Net spat back possibilities when probed, ranging from “Quintesson Trap” to “New Emerging Sentient Life”, and he deemed the risk low enough to check at least.

Prowl wasn’t a social mech, but he wasn’t as heartless as some soldiers said he was.

-

Jazz didn’t notice the ship until it was almost right above him, but he was still in his Mech Suit luckily enough. Using the larger bulk of this robotic body, he tried to wave the ship down using his long arms with a burst of frantic energy.

The Mech robot was psychically linked to himself, and so it was easy enough to arrange the machine’s body to look like a crazy person looking to hitchhike on the highway. He didn’t care though, only happy that someone, anyone, had found him.

It definitely wasn’t human, there were basically no ships of this design and even if there were none had launched yet. Another alien race didn’t seem too far off either, whoever they were. But really, they could be made of goo and Jazz would probably hug them in thanks.

He only really started to realize that this might be a bad thing when the ship landed, because that thing had some pretty big guns. Or maybe those weird energy blasters he saw before, and this was one of the aliens trying to colonize his planet.

Still though, he swallowed his fears and put on a brave face – even if no one else saw. He strutted up to the large ship like he owned it, and… waited.

The ship door opened soon enough, lowering down into a ramp, and out stepped… another robot?

Jazz blinked, suddenly very aware of his body inside of the mech suit, when he saw it… or them?

He didn’t know what to think, seeing the human-like face and odd proportions of their body. Was this another mech suit of some sort? Why did it have wheels?

Jazz had to snap out of it, because the robot started talking to him.

“Dobbqfkdp,” they said with a stoic demeanour, “xj F ql xpprjb vlr ibcq qeb afpqobpp pfdkxi? F txpk’q xtxob qebob txp olylqfz ifcb qefp cxo lrq fkql qeb dxixuv.”

Unfortunately, Jazz didn’t understand a word of it. The robot was holding the blaster on their hip, obviously ready to attack if Jazz proved hostile.

Hesitantly, he turned on his communications radio and spoke.

“Umm, sorry my guy, but I don’t know what you’re saying? I’m a bit new around here is all,” he said with a somewhat nervous laugh. He almost wished his own mech had a face, so he could express how he wasn’t hostile.

There was silence for a moment, the wind blowing by around them and picking up a barrage of maroon plantlife that looked like flowerpetals. It was serene to see, but Jazz kept his focus on the robot whose eyes were widening in surprise.

They then cleared their throat, deliberately taking their hand off the gun and offered something. Jazz stepped forwards hesitantly, seeing it was a small chip.

The robot gave a forced smile, obviously trying to not appear threatening but looking awkward instead. “Jv xmlildfbp. Bah-weep-Graaaghnah, weep ni ni bong.”

Somehow, against what was rational, the phrase they said made Jazz relax a little. It was a ridiculous nonsense in English, but somehow it made the offer seem less unknown.

Hesitantly, Jazz accepted the chip and plugged it into his mech. His eyes nearly bugged out when it started interfacing with his systems, almost pulling it out, before seeing what it was doing – it was scanning the coding and language of his mech’s sytems, pulling them out into a strange dictionary. Soon, it was done with a PING, and the chip ejected itself.

Holy shit, he thought, they have a fucking universal translator, like Star Trek!

The robot’s hand was extended again, obviously asking for the chip, and Jazz gingerly placed it back in the robot’s open palm – somehow having five fingers, which somehow was one of the first things Jazz noticed right now.

He was really overwhelmed, okay?!

The robot inserted the chip into the back of their head, and Jazz had a sinking realization.

Maybe he was jumping the gun, but the way the robot’s eyes went dim briefly as it processed the chip, made Jazz think is this an actual sentient robot?!

“Thank you, I suppose this must be very confusing for you,” the robot then said, in perfect English.

“Ugh… kind of?” He said, shrugging slightly which translated to his robot around him. It was a reflex hard to break, even if it was unnecessary for his mech to emote.

“We’ve known about aliens, but this is the first time I’m meeting one that doesn’t want to kill me,” he said, with a slight laugh at himself. “Sorry, this is really weird.”

“Well,” the mech said, giving a soft smile which looked much more genuine, “I’m sure my kind will be eager to welcome another robotic race to the galaxy.”

Jazz’s mind went blank, as he had two sudden realizations.

Holy shit, I was right, this is an actual sentient robot who is actually talking to me, quickly followed by, they think I’m also a robot.

This… might be messy.

Despite this, Jazz just gave a nod, “Well, I’m sure the feeling is mutual!” He said awkwardly.

“Now… can you help me off this planet?”

The robot gave a brisk nod. “Of course, it’s not uncommon for new space faring species to have transwarping incidents like these. Come with me, my people will help you get home.”

Without any better options, Jazz hopped onto the ship. As he went inside, he realized the whole thing was scaled to the giant robot he was with. Scaled to his mech as well, conveniently enough.

“So, could I get your name?” Jazz said, as he finally was getting ahold of his anxiety. At least he wasn’t dead, and he was going home, so suddenly this was feeling a lot less intimidating.

“Of course, I’m Prowl of Praxus. You?”

“Ummm, Jazz. Jazz Wilson,” he said.

“Very well, it’s nice to meet you Jazz Jazz Wilson,” Prowl said, and somehow that phrase, which wasn’t nearly the craziest part of this situation, got a bark of laughter from Jazz.

“Just Jazz is fine. It’s nice to meet you too Prowl.”

He got a nod of acknowledgement, as the ship flared to life and prepared for takeoff.

Jazz might need to sleep for a decade when he gets home.

(Translation for Prowl Earlier: Greetings, am I to assume you left the distress signal? I wasn’t aware there was robotic life this far out into the galaxy.)

I also won't apologize for using the transformers universal greeting :P, I love that thing. Canonically, it's a phrase so ridiculous that anyone who says it must mean no harm - which is why Jazz somewhat relaxes when he hears it despite not knowing what it means.

I hope you liked this short little story (≧∇≦)ﾉ it's more just exploring the concept than anything.

Also sorry for using the term mech or mecha wrong, I don't watch enough anime ( ´･･)ﾉ(._.`)

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream when you don't talk to them for one week straight.

AN: Featuring husband! Dreamies because why not <3

Mark Lee

You were surprised to see Mark waiting for you in the living room. After a week of not talking to each other because of a huge misunderstanding, Mark became a ghost to you. Barely in the house and not even sleeping in the bed with you. He stands up, lets out a sigh and looks at you, "Let's fix this," you can sense in his tone that he's tired. He looks at you sincerely, waiting for your response whether or not, you're on the same page as him. "Okay," you simply said, nodding to give assurance to your husband. 

Huang Renjun

"I don't want this to be longer," Renjun blurted out. You two are having a dinner together even though you're not talking to him for almost a week. You stared at him, and you can see that he's desperate for you. The fight was intense and for the duration of the week, you two are walking on eggshells whenever each other are near. "Please love?" he pleaded. You only stared at him, reaching for his hands as you only look at him a small smile, giving him a small nod. 

Lee Jeno

"Jeno, what are you doing here?" you asked. He's standing in front of the doorsteps of the guest room --- which is where you've been staying for almost a week. Your husband only stared at you, there's longing in his eyes and your heart started beating fast. "I'm sorry," and tears starting to fall from your eyes. You ran towards him, crying hard. "Why are you apologizing, it's my fault! Don't say sorry!" Jeno only hugged you back. "I just need you now." he whispered. That's when you started apologizing for what happened, promising him that this won't happen again. 

Lee Donghyuck

"They know that we had fight," Haechan told you. The Dreamies went to your place for a dinner, and while there's a tension between you and your husband, the dinner went smoothly. Instead of answering him, you only gave him a deadpan stare, and before you could leave, Haechan was able to grab your hands. "Now, let's be mature and talk about what happened last week, maturely," he emphasized the words, 'maturely.' You only rolled your eyes but sat on the sofa, knowing that even you, wanted to put a stop to all of this. 

Na Jaemin

The wors thing about having a fight with your husband was that he'll be out of the country for a week. And during that week, there were no phone calls nor text from each other. It's driving you crazy, but you know that the fight started with Jaemin, so why should you be the one who'll talk to him first? The doors opened, and it was just a coincidence that you're sitting in the sofa along with Lucy. "I'm home," Jaemin announced. You only gave him a stare. "Can you now talk to me please?" He pleaded, and before you could answer, Jaemin hugs you. "I miss you so much." 

Zhong Chenle

"I know that we're not talking, but I made you dinner," Chenle said to you, and before you could react. He already left. You watched as he sat at the dinning table, not moving. You closed your eyes and wonder what the hell did you two fought about that you ignored him for a week. A week without Chenle, without his touch and affections, and as much as it was hard for you, you couldn't muster the courage to apologize first. So when Chenle approached you today, you thought of it as a way to settle your fight. So you went to the dining area, sat beside him and began eating the meal he cooked. 

Park Jisung

It was one of the rare occurence where Jisung goes home drunk. As you open the door, you saw how Jisung stumbled his way inside, you stood there frozen as you watched his movements until he turns around to face you. In a split second, he's on you, cupping your cheeks as if he's longing for you. "Are you not going to talk to me anymore?" he asked, his tone almost crying. "Come on, talk to me now, you're driving me crazy you know that?" and you only stared at him, before reaching your hands to cup his cheeks too. "I'm sorry Ji," you whispered. 

[martinluvrr]

NUMBER ONE | KATE MARTIN ( FINAL PART )

⋅˚₊‧ kate martin x actress!reader

⋅˚₊‧ summary: everything is perfect, but perfection doesn’t come free.

⋅˚₊‧ part three || nav

☆

liked by hbo, usera, y/ny/l/n and 16,682 others

vanityfair Y/n Y/l/n is nominated for her first ever emmy for HBO’s House of the Dragon. In category “Outstanding lead actress in a drama series”, does she have your vote?

☆

“Kate-"

"I thought we agreed on this. You and her would not have contact"

"So what was i supposed to do ,just ignore her when she appeared in my face?"

"Yes that exactly what you should've done" She lets out, yelling. Y/n suddenly felt herself freeze, her entire mood shifted.

Everything was going great, candlelit dinner, make out in the kitchen counter, laughing, more kisses etc. When you finally told her about your encounter at a movie premiere with your former fling, Lily Rose Depp, you saw her jaw clench, her lips pursed together and her tongue touched her cheek insider her mouth. That's when shit went crazy.

Just as you were both sitting down, she sat up, pacing up while repeating your story. When you tried to calm her down, she snapped, frustrated with you. The only other time you saw Kate this mad was when she find out you and Lily still had each others number, she calmed down quick when you blocked it, but now you weren't sure what to do. You and Lily had shared a brief conversation about the movie, which she thought it was enough of a conversation for her to sneak in a hug at the end. You both knew that you guys weren't going to happen again, but a small part of Kate thinks that Lily isn't in the same mindset with you.

It's been exactly a year and a half since the rooftop date, shortly after that , both of you became exclusive when Kate brought you to the annual team dinner and introduced as her girlfriend, you got deja vu all over again. The relationship was still a secret, but it wasn't like people didn't speculate. Everything was going great, Kates career was booming and yours as well, you were nominated for your first emmy two weeks ago, in 3 days you were going to find out if you were going to have a gold winged woman in your hands. Besides that, you and Kate were thriving, moved into a penthouse a month ago, a home just for you two. You rarely fought, and when you did it was accompanied wth great make up sex, so you didn't complain. But you had a feeling that there was no sex after this, just misery.

"Don't yell at me, I'm sorry" You said, your eyes on the ground, shameful.

"Well sue me for being frustrated"

"I didn't mean for this to happen-"

"What did you think was going to happen?"

"I didn't even hug her back-"

"Y/n-" she screamed, again.

"I said, don't yell at me" you screamed back. You felt yourself take a step back , unsure of what to do, you said what you thought was best "I think i should go"

"What?"

"I'm gonna go, spend the night with Emma or Matt or something, we need space before we scream at each other again" you said while rubbing your head with frustration. You heard Kate move, and when you heard her car keys jiggle, you looked up. your tear filled eyes met her angry ones,

"Don't bother" she said, opening the door before slamming it shut. You felt your eyes not bother anymore, tears leaked. Nothing comes for free, everything was with a cost.

☆

"We haven't said anything to each other in 2 days" you said to Jada.

"Nothing, really?"

"Nothing, she goes to practice, i stay in the living room, she returns and i go out wherever i can"

The apartment was filled with utter silence, Kate was not saying anything but you knew that she saw your sad eyes, and even though she was aware she didn't do anything about it. That made it even worse, you had spent an hour crying about it when you made that realization. Was this over? Was this how you two were going to end? And you definitely knew that you wouldn't be able to survive that, would probably stop dating for good after.

"We're just avoiding each other, and it's slowly breaking me" You heard your voice crack, your eyes became glossy. Your make up artist stopped himself, gave you a look of sympathy before asking if he should continue, you gave him a nod.

"Don't cry and do not think about this tonight, you're at the Emmys for god sakes"

That's another thing upsetting you, Kate was supposed to be your date, if you won, she would be the person you would want to get up and hug you, then kiss you after when you were alone. But if she didn't want to talk you, then you weren't going to either.

"You're right"

☆

"And the winner for outstanding lead actor in drama series is... MATT SMITH" You heard them announce. As you hugged your co star and congratulated him, you wondered if Kate had been watching, the next award was your nominee category ,and you weren't sure if you could handle going on that stage knowing she's not happy with you.

As a commercial break was announced, you felt as your empty seat was occupied suddenly, and then you heard her voice. "Hey" she smiled at you, she was here. She was actually here, she didn't miss this.

"Thank you" for coming, you silently thought, you knew Kate understood. She knew everything about you.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world baby, no matter how mad we are at each other" She said, bringing your knuckles to her lips. Suddenly feeling the urge to kiss her, you didn't stop yourself. You didn't care and neither did she when you felt her kiss you back. All that mattered is that you had each others support, you didn't care about anybody elses.

"And the Outstanding actress in a drama series is... Y/N Y/L/N"

☆

instagram.com↙

liked by zendaya, hbo, adele and 2,100,356 others

y/ny/l/n oh my god. i don't know where to begin. thank you to hbo and the most amazing crew and cast mates on earth and congratulations to everybody, this past 2 years have been amazing and unforgettable. thank you to my family,friends and fans, the massive support made me who i am. And finally thank you to my person, i wouldn't want to be here if it isn't with you.

usera oh kate and y/n🥹🥹

userb most well deserved

houseofthedragonhbo congratulations princess rhaesya 💘

zendaya congratulations girly❤️❤️❤️

userc loveloveyouu

userd her and kate are so cute omg😘😋

↳ usere i always knew

↳userf who didn't tho????

userg shes one tony away from EGOT 🤭

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liked by y/ny/l/n, katemartin, hbo and 789,079,657 others

houseofthedragonhbo congratulations to our outstanding actors. thank you, y/n and matt. @y/ny/l/n

millyalcock favs

userh best cast ever

useri hottest cast on earth istg

↳ userj casting director deserves a raise

theemilycarey 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

userk fav uncle-niece duo 😛

↳ userl deaddd

↳ userm targaryen incest hahahahahahhahaha

usern missing them

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liked by aja22wilson, lvaces, paigebueckers and 46,876 others

katemartin congratulations baby, whether you lost or won, always will remain number one in my heart ❤️ @y/ny/l/n

aja22wilson congratulations 🎊

alyshaclark 🥹🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

usero love them already

y/ny/l/n i love you.

userp crying omg this is so cute 😭😭

↳ userq right?? 😭😭😭

lvaces congrats y/n 🎊🎊🎊🎊🤭🤭

↳ y/ny/l/n thanku 🫶🏻🫶🏻

loading more comments…

☆

thankyou for reading <3333

[pshaven]

how would jay express his jealously when he noticed you with another guy?

jay needs more love on my blog so i'm here to deliver!! (mdni)

jay thinks he has such a good pokerface when he sees other guys and girls flirting with you. he imagines that he has such a stoic expression, only occasionally sparing you glances to make sure that the person isn't crossing any lines.

but he's the exact opposite.

his jaw is clenched, brows knitting together as his lips are pressed into a tight line. he's clearly angry to anyone in the room, and they know exactly why he is with the way his eyes are only focusing on you and the guy that's starting to get a little too touchy with you.

that's his last straw, pushing himself off the table that he's leaned against to go over to you, a hand placed firmly on your lower waist. he gives the guy an awkward chuckle, the jealousy starting to cloud his thoughts. he doesn't even properly introduce himself as your boyfriend, he just pinches the side of your hip and you yelp, meeting his cold-stoned, narrow eyes.

you think he's kinda cute like this. it's not like jay has any problem or issue expressing his emotion and love for you, but it's rare to see him get to worked up around you since you're often his safe place to relax. you grin and giggle at him, looking at the guy that was previously flirting with you.

you reach to cup jay's face, pulling him down for a heated kiss that clears up jay's cloudy and jealous mind, melting into your lips. the both of you open your eyes mid-kiss, looking at the guy and he scurries off awkwardly, shaking his head as he walks away.

safe to say that when the both of you get back home, you show him that you belong to him, and only him<3.

"mmph!" you moan into the pillow, arching your back further as jay slides into your slick cunt, a groan escaping his lips. he relishes in the warmth of your pussy sucking him in, his hips starting to move on their own.

"promise you won't entertain those guys anymore?" he hums tauntingly, his chest meeting the arch of your back and you nod into the pillow enthusiastically.

"yes! yes, i promise, promise, jay!" you squeal out as his hips begin to pick up its force and pace, his pelvic bone meeting the flesh of your ass.

but you both know that you'll do it again, if it meant you'd get a good fuck like this again.

or ...

close family childhood bestfriend jay who immediately stands up straighter when you come home and bring someone with you who he's never seen before. you introduce him as your boyfriend, but jay doesn't miss the way the guy next to you give you a weird look when you say that.

he confronts you when the two of you are alone, and you say that he's really just a boy you're talking to, no official labels but you said boyfriend to make things seem less complicated.

and jay doesn't like it one bit. how can someone not commit to you? you are a treasure to behold, and anyone would be blessed to be able to call themselves your partner.

you can already see the thoughts running through jay's head, knowing that he already disapprove of this guy. you sigh, placing a hand comfortingly on his knee, "don't worry about me."

how can he not worry about you? he doesn't want to see his favorite girl get heartbroken by some loser guy who doesn't deserve to make you cry in the long run.

he's immediately possessive of you, claiming the only seat next to you when it comes to dinner time. the boy you brought with you gives you a look, but jay smiles pridefully and engages in conversation with your mother, ignoring your so-called boyfriend.

the two of you get into a fight that same night in your room, your situationship saying that he felt left out of your family and that jay is obviously crushing on you. you both exchange shouts and accusations, and jay is on the other side in the hallway, listening in.

he hears your door click open, the guy walking out and spotting jay standing right in front. jay gives him another grin, waving a little goodbye before saying, "you didn't deserve her, anyway."

[txmxkis]

i'm only really me when i'm here with you

pairing. boothill x gn!reader

genre. hurt/comfort

wc. 1.5k+

summary. you're determined to help boothill heal from his trauma by... doing his hair?

warnings. i took liberties with this, who knows what specific parts he actually has left or whether he can blush or not (in my heart he can lol), mention of boothill picking u up but i mean. he’s literally so strong he could handle anything, i made him soooo sad and it’s possibly wildly out of character, selfship coded as usual rip

a/n. continuing the tradition of using lyrics from songs on selfship playlists for fic titles lol. based on my tags on this post

they say that trauma is stored in the body, and while boothill didn't necessarily have a complete body anymore, this was still something that you thought about frequently when it came to his physical form.

regardless of just how much of his original self remained, there was still enough of him left that you were sure it had to be true in some capacity. after all, he retained his head and his heart—at least you were fairly certain—two of the most vital components of human anatomy.

it was so hard to read him. the real him. he tried so hard to always act confident and cool. actually, he didn't even really have to try or act. it seemed as if it came to him naturally and endlessly. there was a perpetual air of optimism surrounding him that was difficult to dim even on his most wearisome days.

even after experiencing whatever horrors he had to face from mission to mission, when he came home, the door to whatever room you were currently in would fling open—sometimes scaring you half to death—and he would greet you so happily that it felt as if there were no terrible things in the universe whatsoever.

you cherished his mannerisms, especially because you could be a pessimistic sort of person. rather frequently, in fact. you loved having him near you, able to draw laughter from you, however unwillingly it might be on your part at times. he was oddly skilled at making you feel assured and comfortable, in a way that nothing and no one had ever done before. you couldn’t seem to remember how you ever lived without his encouragement, and you didn’t think you could ever feel truly whole without it again.

there really was no accounting for his relentlessly positive attitude. given what he'd seen and endured, you thought it was damn near impossible to be as carefree as he seemed to be. at any rate, he did manage it. however, there were times, moments he rarely ever allowed you to witness, in which his façade would falter slightly and betray just how heavily the past weighed on him.

occasionally, you would catch him staring at his reflection, a downcast expression painting his beautiful features. every time you spoke of your family, you could detect glimpses of sadness in his eyes, albeit hidden behind a smile. once you even caught him crying as silently as he could—you assumed so as not to alert you—his shoulders sagging under an unforeseen weight, a look on his face that you could only describe as heartbroken. your own heart broke with his in that moment.

you always tried to be particularly attentive following those moments, but it was so difficult to get him to open up to you. he just wanted you to be happy. to not bother worrying about him. you had your own problems, after all, and there was no need for him to add to your burden. no need for him to ask for your pity.

he knew you cared for him deeply enough that it would cause you pain, and even if it was only a fragment of the grief that he lived with every day, he was sure that he would feel terribly and incessantly guilty about it. if he could remove every single aspect of your life that caused you suffering, he would do it in a heartbeat, and he could say that because it was one of the few original parts he had left. how could he add to that suffering by forcing you to imagine all the horrors from his own life?

it took so much time and effort on your part to convince him to open the door to himself, if even just a tiny crack. he was still extremely careful with his words and the details that he disclosed to you—he didn't want to overwhelm you, and he certainly didn't want to hurt you. in reality, these conversations, painful as they were for you to hear, actually helped you to feel as though you could comfort him more effectively.

yes, it hurt immensely to know even a small fraction of how much anguish he had experienced. yes, you despised the people who had done this to him and wanted to fight them yourself, in fact. yes, your chest felt tight with ache and sadness on his behalf. still, you could help him more by knowing than by not knowing.

eventually, you were able to make it this far, brushing through his hair as gently as your hands could manage. he had confessed to you in one of his more vulnerable moments that the white shock of hair on his head often served as a stark reminder of worse times, of the trauma and stress inflicted on his body. the admission gave you an idea, one that made boothill feel more than just a little bit exposed. he wasn’t accustomed to being looked after like this, with so much affection and love.

you began to make a routine out of it. every day you would do something with his hair—whether it was braiding it and tying it up intricately to make him feel pretty or simply combing through the strands and allowing them to cascade around his shoulders and down his back.

sometimes you would sit him in front of a mirror while you worked so that he could see exactly what you were doing in the moment. he didn’t quite understand how it all came together, but he found it fascinating to see how you twisted and weaved. at times, you were so focused on the hair in your hands that your brows would furrow, tongue poking out slightly between your lips. in the reflection, you genuinely looked like you were enjoying yourself.

even more noticeable to him was the expression you wore when you looked at him through the mirror. your gaze was so full of tenderness that his chest ached. he could swear that his heart actually skipped a beat. whenever that happened, you could see a flaring blush creep up his cheeks and into his ears, and you couldn’t help but laugh just a little bit at how endearing it was.

other times, you would settle on the couch, with him seated on the floor between your legs, adorning his hair with the cutest accessories, the two of you laughing and joking the whole time. you would delicately twist the locks back, securing them with pretty, multicolored clips that shone in the light.

when you were done, you would lead him slowly to a mirror, hands over his eyes, nearly stumbling over his legs as you walked behind him. you would pull your hands quickly from his face, revealing your handiwork, beaming with pride and grinning at how adorable he looked. he loved every minute of it—and every bit of you, he would think to himself as he turned to pick you up and spin you around, laughing in that deep voice of his. then he’d set you down gently, thanking you for your hard work with kisses sprinkled across your face.

days that were particularly trying for him would simply be spent in comfortable silence. when he didn’t feel like talking from the pain of it all, he would wordlessly lay his head on your chest as you ran your fingers through his long locks. feeling your touch—the slight pull on his scalp, the tickle of shifting hair—it all made him feel so relaxed that he could melt right into your skin until you absorbed him fully into you. often, the combination of this and the gentle, steady beat of your heart would lull him to sleep, and seeing his expression ease and soften in these moments was all the reward you ever needed.

in the beginning, it was unclear whether this dedicated time spent caring for his hair was helping or not. over time, however, you noticed a glimmer in his eyes—something that told you he would be alright, despite everything.

pain still remained; it always would, but instead of constantly gazing at his reflection with grief, every once in a while you would catch a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. it was as if he was remembering how you hummed while placing those clips, or how he had teasingly whipped you with his hair on a more playful occasion, or any number of positive memories that you had put so much effort into lovingly crafting with him.

you were determined to do your best, slowly but surely, to lighten his burden—or at least help carry it. there was no reason for him to feel alone when he had you by his side. and if creating these happy memories was what you had to do in order to help him, well, you would gladly continue forever.

reblogs & interactions are appreciated! thank you for reading! <3 — txmxkis

[bedoballoons]

Genshin Mens with an S/o that always so happy and bubbly from the outside/public but at home they are actually tired and secretly crying in the bathroom while the shower is on so hoping that They wont hear the reader crying

I have been waiting to write this oh my gosh!! Love this idea, but just in case you're feeling like the reader, know it's okay to cry and if you ever need to talk to someone you're welcome to talk to me and I'll do the best I can to comfort you <3

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~All alone~༺}

CW: Angsty: Hidden emotions, crying, depression, some slight yelling in Xiaos and worried characters! Modern AU! (Pet names: Lyney: My love, Zhongli: Darling, Xiao: Flower, Kazuha: Honey, Neuvillette: Mon amour)

(Includes: Lyney, Zhongli, Xiao, and Kazuha!)

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𑁍༄Lyney:

Lyneys knuckles gently tapped against the wooden door of the bathroom, his voice sweet and filled with love "Mon amour, you alright? You've been in the shower awhile" ...although if you listened closely, you could hear the undertone of worries in his words. No matter how well you hid it in public, he could always sense you were off, he knew when smiles were genuine and yours rarely was anymore and no amount hiding in the bathroom could make your pain less noticeable to him.

Meanwhile you were on the other side of the door, knees pulled close to your chest and tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to breath in the mist filled room, the sound of the shower drowning out your soft sobs to the best of its abilities. You sniffled, trying to make your voice sound normal despite the emotions that were tugging at your throat, "Yeah honey! I'm fine! Just wanted to pamper myself a little!"

The magician sighed, slowly sinking to the floor... he wished so desperately you'd just let him in, let him lighten the burdens you were carrying, " Mon amour...I know that's not true. Please, let's talk.." You could barely hear him over your own mind screaming at you...worries and images of your issues dragging him down with you, drowning any ideas of actually accepting his offer to the bottom of your heart.

"I'm fine."

𑁍༄Zhongli:

You laughed out loud, others laughing along with you like everything was absolutely perfect...while Zhonglis yellow eyes saw otherwise, his gaze never leaving your sweet face. He could see it in your eyes, the way your laughter no longer sounded the same....the way you held yourself differently when others were around compare to when you were home alone with him. He just didn't understand why you weren't talking with him...why you were hiding your feelings.

Of course he wouldn't pressure you, he'd do his best to encourage you to lean on him...rest when you looked tired, do his best to show you how much he loved you, but it didn't seem to stop. You'd still disappear into the bathroom, shower running while he paced back and forth outside the door, wishing he knew more about human emotions, wishing he could just do...something.

"Darling, I'm here if you need me...I love you."

"Just taking a shower!....love you too!"

𑁍༄Xiao:

Xiao was panicking, all his life he'd never found love till he met you and now you were hurting in a way he didn't know how to solve. He thought you were happy, smiling and laughing like usual...but overtime he would notice that something had changed. You no longer laughed till you cried anymore and even when you seemed at your highest...you still had dark bags under your eyes, sadness clinging to your words.

Now he'd caught you crying behind a closed door, sobs barely audible over the sound of the shower running and breathing messy...uneven, you sounded like your heart was shattering. He couldn't stand hearing you sound so broken, standing there doing nothing to help you when one of the things he loved most was protecting you, so he teleported into the room..hoping you'd forgive the intrusion.

He was shocked at first, to see you curled up by the door crying, barely able to breath as you rocked back and fourth...he wanted to run to you, pull you into a tight hug, tell you he'd make it all okay if you asked, but he didn't want to startle you and make the situation worse, "Flower...I'm here...can I help?"

"Xiao?!? What a-are you doing in here!? G-get out!"

"I'm worried about you, you're hiding your emotions and pretending like your okay when you aren't...I just want to help you."

"You're not one t-to talk! You hide what you're f-feeling all the time! Just leave me alone!!"

"No, I'm not leaving here until I figure out what's going on. I haven't waited thousands of years to find love and let it slip away because I didn't offer comfort when I should have!"

You covered your ears and opened the door, "THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD HAVE WAITED L-LONGER!"

𑁍༄Kazuha:

Kazuha sighed, humming against the doorframe while he thought of your wonderful smile that always made his heart race...and your bubbly personality that contrasted so well with his calm collected one, but lately things hadn't had the same magical loving feeling they used to, even his poems barely made a glint in your eyes, you just seemed so put out. Even after sleeping, when he'd try to hold you close and make sure you rested comfortably in the morning, you'd almost instantly pull away...leave to take a shower.

"Hey honey, you doing okay in there? I don't want to bother you...I've just noticed you seemed to be feeling down more often. I guess I just...worry about you. I love you and I want to make sure you're happy..." The shower flicked off as he finished his sentence and for a split second he had hope you would talk with him, but when the door opened, you stood in front of him wrapped in a towel...eyes red and puffy, and that same fake daunting smile on your lips.

"Kazuha honey, what're you doing outside of the door? Were you talking to me? I didn't hear anything..."

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◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a nice day~*⁠.⁠✧

[crsssie]

calling it love, but this isn't falling

word count: 1.6k

warnings: non explicit smut (one paragraph)

summary: huh. not kid anymore

If you had to describe Keegan, it'd be something along the lines of "an old man's soul stuck in a young man's body" or something adjacent.

You had watched him in high school — three years above you, captain of the basketball team, president of the social services club, set to join the military after graduation, and you had hung out in his friend group by pure chance. A senior had adopted you as a freshman, and you had been in the group, watching Keegan since.

Pretty blues. He has striking blue eyes — cold when out playing on the court, yet somehow warm when he was talking to his friends. He always struck you as that kind of person. He'd suit the battlefield. You know? But the truth was, you read stories about the battlefield and its repercussions, and you were certain that by the time that Keegan was in the military, he'd be gone and dead and maybe blown up in the Middle East all for the sake of some oil. The people who die in war are expendable at the hands of the government, so when the entire group had waved goodbye to him at his enlistment, you had tucked him a small four-leaf clover into his palm, telling him to tuck it into his hat so that at the very least, he would not be shot through the skull.

"You sure care about me, kid."

"I'm your friend. It's a given. Good luck, Keegan."

"I'll be back. Promise."

You're graduating your bachelor's degree when Keegan comes back from the war. Alive, yes. Shell-shocked, yes. It's hard to describe PTSD because it's not just the clattering and loud noises. It's also the silence that comes with it, and when you spot Keegan with all of your high school friends at your graduation, your heart stops in your chest because that's not Keegan. That's the shell of him. It's hard to even begin to describe just who he is now.

"Congrats on the degree, kid." He hums, handing back the same four-leaf clover, and you start crying.

You tell everyone it's just because you're happy to be done and to be able to see Keegan, but it's far from the truth.

Keegan ends up at the same university that you go to grad school for.

You spot him at orientation, and you stick around him, watching as you point him through everything that he needs to know, and you blink and blink and blink and blink at him until you're blinking out tears and you feel like a child all over again. You wonder if you should just tell Keegan that maybe being around him is bad for your health and eyes, but you decide against it.

You wipe at your tears and tell him you're just being sentimental. Now you're telling him the ropes to handling certain situations when he was the one doing that back in high school.

"Nothing to get sentimental over." Keegan hums, offering you a pack of napkins from his pocket as you sniffle.

"Fuck you."

"Apartment's open."

You punch him in the arm for it.

Keegan is good at staying quiet. He's always been. Despite the unofficial acknowledgment that he was the leader in the high school friend group, he had always been quiet. Talked with his eyes. You stare into his eyes when he raises a brow at the rest of the group, and you learn to read him just based off of an expression. An older brother to anyone and everyone. Yet, despite it all, you never quite learned too much about him. A family crowded in much secrecy. The stability in his personality was rare in a broken house, so you always assumed that he had just been part of a white picket fence home.

He's always been the type to take care of you.

You find it strange that you're teaching him what drinks to touch and not, and you hand him a can of beer, grabbing a shot for yourself, and shotgunning a soda as a chaser. You wipe your mouth of the sugar as Keegan stares, bursting into laughter when your raise a brow at him and offer the rest of the drink to him.

"That's unsanitary, kid."

"Can't die from a little metal poisoning." You lick your lips, tossing the rest of it as you hum. "Most people pregame at home, but since we met up, I don't expect you to have done anything."

"Always full of surprises, eh?"

"Have to be. What's a little fun?" You hum. "We can bus home or call a cab later. See you in a bit!"

You rush into the crowd to disappear.

It's a little unfair, though. You don't ever think Keegan's thought too much about you while you had always looked up to him, so it feels a little strange for you to be on top of him, sunk down on him, legs flush against his hips as your fingers wrap around his neck, your brows furrowed as you breathe in and out. He's pretty like this, blues hazy as you stare down at him, room suddenly too small, breath suddenly too short. It's unfair that you get to see him like this, you think. You can name at least five other people who used to be in your friend group who had a crush on him. Unfair, unfair, unfair. Your lips press to his collar, lipgloss smearing on the white of his skin, and you wonder if he's going to forget all of this in the morning.

You don't know if you want him to.

You wake to Keegan in bed with an arm around your waist, face nestled into your chest.

Keegan wakes to an empty bed and pills on his nightstand.

You pretend it didn't happen. As long as Keegan doesn't bring it up, you don't either. Yet, you stick around for breakfast, handing him his usual order and morning coffee, a cup of tea specifically gifted to him at orientation in a mug that you had given him for secret Santa years ago in your hand, hum on your lips as Keegan has breakfast.

"What are we?"

"I don't know." You shrug. "Y'wanna give it a label?"

"Not really."

"There we go."

You leave after breakfast, turning down Keegan's offer to drive you back.

You're set to graduate earlier than Keegan — understandably so, and so when you're graduating again, Keegan's got flowers in his arms for you and a smile on his face as you beam at him. You don't invite the high school friend group since you've lost contact, and Keegan's all you have left from that period of life. He offers you a dinner on him, turned down when you steal the flowers and press your lips to his, pulled down by the collar as he sinks into the kiss, humming as you let go with a dramatic throw of your head, cheeky and grinning when he looks down at you.

Keegan's learned that you don't do labels out of a fear and not because you genuinely don't do labels.

Maybe you don't quite understand the point either.

You wonder what you're to do now that you're done, applying to jobs and doctorates, crashing on Keegan's couch and abandoning your apartment, moved into the original storage room that he had.

You care yet you don't.

He knows yet he doesn't.

You pay him your half of rent, and you manage to pull some strings to stay in the same university, starting at the beginning of the new year rather than the schoolyear, and when you show Keegan your offer, he's got you giggling and laughing as he pins you down on the couch.

You don't know if you crave the domesticity of your relationship or something else.

The bed in the storage room is eventually sold to some student as you start sleeping on Keegan's, his bare skin on yours more times than your heart beats in a day. Something about being vulnerable with his skin out, trusting you to never hurt or harm him in any way. You think there's something strange about making it so far with him. A piece of your past that just stuck around and never left.

Even when he graduates and you've got flowers for him, you tell him you'll just take over his lease if he decides to move out.

Instead, he lifts you into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours, asking if you really ever thought about spending the rest of your life with him.

Maybe it's just some semblance of romance to you. You don't know.

You tell him you wouldn't mind.

It's a little untraditional to do a quick courthouse wedding with a random witness pulled off the street and with rings the two of you had found at the closest thrift shop, but it's also just how it's always been.

Post-marriage ice cream. Insane move on his end, and you think it's crazy, but you think you grow used to it. You don't even ask how Keegan knew you wanted ice cream.

"You marryin' me because you wanna take care of me?"

"Always have been, honey."

Huh. Not kid anymore.

"Not kid?"

"Not with that ring on your finger."

"Maybe this was your masterplan all along."

"Maybe." He pauses to laugh. "Or maybe I just love you."

"Maybe." You pause to stare out the window. "Not changing my last name, though. What the hell is Russ?"

"The etymology has something to do with redheads or fox-likes."

"Huh." You pause to think. "That might've sold me."

"Yeah?"

"After the degree, though."

"Of course."

[phoenixblaze1412]

HCs for reader and Dottore who have a child pls? - 🐓

Having a child of his own was a topic that Dottore rarely talks about. He already has his segments of different timelines and ages, why would he need a child when he can create a child segment of himself?

During Pregnancy

Dottore didn't expect for you to waltz into his lab, hug him from behind and suddenly announce that you're pregnant with him going to be a father soon. Even the segments stopped working on their tasks as they stared at you in shock.

You were shocked to see the doctor faint and fell to the floor, the vials he was holding shattered when he dropped it. You were panicking the whole day while the segments reassured you that Dottore will be fine.

The news of your pregnancy eventually reached the ears of the other harbingers. Most of them congratulated you while some, Pantalone mostly, just teased Dottore at how a mad scientist like him could be able to create an infant properly instead of creating it in a lab.

Regrator even gifted him with books like 'Parenting 101', 'How to care for an infant', 'How to be a good father and husband'. Dottore was definitely pissed about it.

The whole pregnancy progress actually went smoothly. With your husband as a doctor and scientist himself, he immediately has a medicine for any pain or cramps that you are feeling.

The only thing Dottore couldn't handle well was your cravings and mood swings.

Sure he experiments on a lot of things, humans and machines for example. But he doesn't experiment on meals. He and his segments could only watch in shock as you eat a Jueyun Chili popsicle. You literally just froze the damn ingredient and stuck a popsicle stick on it.

"Are you sure you're supposed to be eating something spicy while pregnant? I don't think that's good for the baby, love."

"If you don't shut the fuck up, I will stick this up your ass."

He immediately turned and walked away when he saw you bite a large chunk of the food, proving you weren't bluffing. He decided to just let you be, you would come to him later and ask for affection anyways.

Whenever Dottore is busy and can't be by your side, Pantalone is there to be your company at the time. Pantalone would literally spoil you, if you ask him anything you want, he only need to snap his fingers and you immediately get the thing you asked. Dottore didn't liked it though.

"Come now, doctor. She told me you weren't letting her have what she wants most of the time."

"That's because I'm doing it for both her and the baby's health. Besides, she is my wife, Regrator. Go fuck someone and make them pregnant then you'll come to experience what I'm going through."

During Labor

When your time for labor came, Dottore was the one to personally help you deliver the baby. He doesn't trust any other doctors or midwifes. Besides, his segments are also there to assist him.

What he didn't expect though is for you to crack Delta's fingers from gripping too hard. Strangled Gamma when he encouraged and told you how easy it is to just push the baby, when it's not. Even punched Alpha to the gut when he tried to calm you down. Omega and Theta had to hold you down by grabbing each of your arm so you wouldn't hurt anymore segment.

What surprised him even more was when you yelled out curses and threats towards him.

"Just one more push, darling."

"I'm already pushing you fucking cocksucker! If you weren't such a whining bitch, I wouldn't be in much pain! I'll fucking chop your fucking dick off and feed it to the rishboland tigers!"

Dottore could only stand in shock as he held the baby in his hands. He knows he's supposed to be happy since he's holding his child in his arms but your threat made him froze in fear and possibly traumatized.

Epsilon and Sigma gently took the crying infant in his grasp before cutting off the umbilical cord and went to clean the blood off.

In the end, both you and Dottore were tired from the whole event but you two happily held your newborn baby.

Aftermath

Your child was loved by not just the segments, but the entire fatui harbingers as well. Pierro and Pulcinella becoming the grandfathers while the rest of the members are either the aunts or the uncles.

Dottore actually did read the books Pantalone gave him and surprisingly, he's doing great.

Whenever you or Dottore are busy, Dottore would let a segment or two babysit your child. He doesn't trust his fellow harbingers when it comes to taking care of his kid.

One time he let Arlecchino babysit, he came back to see both her and Columbina dressing up your child like it was a doll. It was cute, from what the damselette said, but he prefer his child wearing the same color palette as his.

He is not going to let 'Uncle Childe' babysit. He could already tell that the ginger war freak would try to teach your infant how to hold a weapon at a young age.

You had to convince your husband to not be too overprotective of your child and let the others at least spend a bit of time with 'mini Dottore', Sandrone was the one who gave the nickname.

Your baby's first word was 'Lonnie'. Both you and Dottore had to chase Pantalone around the palace for him being your child's first words instead of Mama or Dada. Luckily their second word was Dada, you were a bit disappointed it wasn't you.

Your child has Dottore's soft, blue, curly hair meanwhile their eye color was the same shade as yours. The only problem was they had the same sharp teeth as your husband. You had to endure all the biting from both your child and husband.

Dottore would be the one who teach your child how to read and learn. He lets you teach them how to write, his own handwriting is barely understandable and he doesn't even have the patience for it.

You have a family picture of you three and another with all the segments placed on your bedside drawer.

There was another time where you and Dottore let the segments take care of your child while you both go out to the city and enjoy dinner together.

You both came back to see your child asleep in Omega's arms while the other segments were trying to wipe away the colorful doodles your child drew on their faces.

Since Dottore is the last one to go to bed due to him wanting to finish his work for the day, he would expect to see you and your child on the bed asleep already.

He would lay down beside you, your child in the comfort of your arms as you both dozed off to sleep. Dottore could only smile and place a kiss on both of your foreheads before wrapping his arms around your figure and pulling you and your child close to him.

[sugarlywhispers]

You see him at a distance. Sitting in a comfy chair by the window, watching the sunset in silence.

It will do him good to see you, that's what Izuku had said. But he forgot to mention how it was going to do you no good.

Bakugou Katsuki looks so in peace right at this moment, you're not sure you want to get closer. You're not sure you want to disrupt that peacefulness. It's so rare to see him so relax, so quiet, you don't want to cause him any trouble. Even if it breaks your heart.

He's been asking for you... sometimes, that's what Izuku had said. He sometimes remembers you. But that sometimes makes you wish he wouldn't at all.

You take one, two, three steps closer, and he turns his head because he heard you, his Hero reflexes as sharp as ever. His eyes, ruby eyes that had always held an intensity that made your knees weak for him, look at you up and down. His eyebrows frown and ah, this is not a good day.

"Who the fuck are you and who let you in?" He barks, and your heart breaks.

You look down at your hands, you don't really want him to see how much his words hurt you. You don't want him to see how much you need him back. You don't want him to see how desperate you're for him to remember you.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I got the wrong room," your voice trembles, you're sure he notices, but you don't look back up at him as you turn over your heels and walk back to the door. You don't run, but fuck, you want to get out of there as fast as you can.

Your hand grabs the doorknob as he suddenly gasps, "Y/N?"

You freeze as everything around you. He said your name. Bakugou Katsuki, the love of your life, after two years, says your name once again. You're afraid to turn around. Afraid the it's just your fucking mind playing with you and your feelings. Afraid that when you look at him, there's only going to be a stare that shows how the love of your life doesn't even know who the fuck you are. Still, you turn around. Because, hell, your heart can't be broken anymore when it's barely there, when it only functions because you're alive but you don't live. You can't live without him. You're just surviving.

"Y/N..." He gasps once again and this time you find the courage to look at him.

He's standing, hands closed in fists but you can clearly see hes trying to hold back their trembling, his eyes are filled with unshed tears that he's holding back. And he looks broken. Just like you.

Your tears are rolling down your cheeks as you look at him. There's recognition in his eyes. He knows who you are, and that hurts even more than when he doesn't.

You close your eyes and can't avoid the sob that leaves your mouth when a pair of familiar arms surround you. His smell is the same, sweet like apples and vanilla, but strong like sandalwood and sparks. All him.

"Shh, it's okay... I'm here," he cries, kissing your head as your hands grab his hospital shirt.

"For now," you cry and he holds you tighter.

Because he knows and you know that it won't last long. It never lasts long. He's here for a minute...and then he's gone for days.

"FUCK," he swears crying, before backing away enough to just hold your face in his hands, so you look at him in the eyes. "I'm not fucking giving up, I'm fucking fighting it... I will fight it til I fucking win, you hear me?"

His forehead presses against yours, tears flowing like an unstoppable cascade. You sometimes wonder if cascades aren't just that, nature crying, sobbing a torrent of desperate pleas.

Because fuck you feel like one. An immense torrent of pleas to whatever exists up there to give you back your husband.

"I know you are..." You smile at him, your hands now traveling up towards his face and caressing his cheeks as sweetly as you're able, making him close his eyes and enjoy your touch, "And I'm always going to be here waiting for you."

And that's a promise.

Doesn't matter how long it takes, you'll wait for him. You'll wait until the day he finally heals and comes back to you.

[rottenzombrainz]

How would the ghouls feel if a like dove appears while they're with mc/pc

I'm so so sorry this took me so long!!!

anon this is a beautiful idea I love you mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah

I hope you don't mind me tweaking this just a little though!

Ghouls Reaction to Seeing a Like Dove While Alone with MC

These are all written under the assumption that you're the one whose feelings made the Like Dove show.

Frostheim:

Jin Kamurai - Jin would notice the dove but he wouldn't care for its presence or for what it means. He's King Kamurai, after all. There's probably dozens of students thinking about him.

Tohma Ishibashi - I could totally see Tohma teasing you about the dove once he sees it. He'd ask you if you know what it means or if you brought it here- but he'd change the topic before you could answer

Lucas Errant - Luca would point out the dove, thinking it looks pretty, but he wouldn't realize what it means despite Kaito telling him in the early chapters.

Kaito Fuji - Kaito would freak the fuck out and cry like he just won the lottery. Seeing a Like Dove basically is like winning the lottery for him.

Vagastorm:

Alan Mido - Alan would point out the dove, but only because he thinks it looks nice. He has absolutely no idea what it means. "Hey. Look at that bird. Why?... It seems like something you'd like."

Shohei Haizono - Sho is used to seeing the doves hang around Leo, but not him. What did they mean again? Something about someone liking someone else? Whatever, he doesn't care.

Leo Kurosagi - Leo wouldn't pay any mind to the Like Dove. He sees those things all the time, after all. It doesn't mean anything to him anymore.

Jabberwock:

Haru Sagara - Haru would think it's just another anomaly wandering around Jabberwock- not that it's near him for any specific reason. He'd still tease you about it though. "Gyahaha! A Like Dove! Those only show up when someone's crushing on you!! Do you have a thing for me?"

Towa Otonashi - Towa would get so giddy and happy. After all, he saw a Like Dove while he was with you!! That must mean you love him justtt as much as he loves you! He'd wrap his arms tightly around you and give you a big hug as he nuzzles you.

Ren Shiranami - Ren would brush it off completely. "Oh, that? Yeah apparently those show up and visit people when someone's crushing on them. Dunno who'd ever be into me tho."

Sinostra:

Taiga Hoshibami - He'd eat it. And then he'd eat you. It's up to you whether it's in the kinky way or not.

Romeo Lucci - The Like Dove would immediately catch Romeo's eye and he'd demand you to capture it for him. He'd be too focused on grabbing the rare anomaly to even confront you about why it appeared when you were with him.

Ritsu Shinjo - Ritsu wouldn't say anything about the dove but he'd take note of it. If he kept seeing them around, he'd eventually talk to you about it. " I often see Like Doves whenever we're together. Do you have romantic feelings for me?"

Hotarubi:

Haku Kusanagi - Haku would tease you about the dove, but in the kind of way that revolves around you. "You see that dove over there? It means someone's thinking of you. I'm not surprised. You're quite the catch~"

Subaru Kagami - Subaru would be more shy about it than you. He wouldn't want to bring it up... what if you think he's accusing you of having a crush on him? He probably wouldn't even be able to look at the pink bird.

Zenji Kotodama - Zenji would point out the dove and sing a little rhyme he wrote about it. He'd tell you stories of the dove without really realizing why it showed up for him.

Obscuary:

Edward Hart - Ed would pretend not to notice the dove while he teases you (aka asks you outlandish questions). And of course, he'd throw in a "Do you prefer Rui or Lyca?"

Rui Mizuki - Rui would point it out and tease you about it relentlessly. "You know what those mean, right? Someone has a crush~"

Lyca Colt - Lyca would notice the Like Dove from the sudden new smell. He'd glare and growl at it, thinking it means danger. "Grrr... what is that thing? Why's it following me around?"

Mortkranken:

Yuri Isami - Seeing the dove would boost Yuri's already massive ego. Of course someone's thinking of him! He's a magnificent doctor! Wait... what do you mean Like Doves show for romantic adoration?! After this realization, he'd go into Victorian Gentleman Cardiac Arrest ™

Jiro Kirisaki - Jiro probably wouldn't even notice it unless you pointed it out. Even then, he'd just info dump about the biology of the Like Dove, the meaning of it's presence completely going over his head.

[emthimofnight]

Getting To Know You

AO3 Link:

Summary: Sonic knows Shadow as an enemy, a rival, and an ally—but a friend and co-parent? Hardly. With their newfound daughter fast asleep, Sonic takes the opportunity to get to know his other half a bit better.

“Well, Stellar is finally asleep.”

Sonic turned his head to follow the voice of his long time rival, Shadow, as he announced his entrance into the living room. He could read the exhaustion in Shadow's body language immediately, even from where he was currently seated on the couch. The game show Sonic had been watching on the TV faded into the background as his focus was drawn elsewhere.

“Oh, yeah?” He answered. “That's good. She took a while to settle down this time.”

Shadow shuffled over, grunting in half-hearted response as he unceremoniously collapsed into the couch beside Sonic. Sonic watched as Shadow craned his neck backwards, resting his head on the back of the couch and closing his eyes. Now that he was closer, Sonic could clearly see how messy his quills were; something that was out of character for the black hedgehog. 

Feeling brave, he reached out to pluck a loose quill from Shadow's head, flicking it away with a quick snap of his fingers. A few weeks ago, he would have surely been rewarded for such a breach of Shadow's personal space with a growl or a threat, but now all his rival could muster was a quick, non-threatening glare in his direction. Sonic smiled in return.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Stray quill.”

“You're lucky I'm tired,” Shadow grumbled, failing to sound intimidating. 

“Oh, wow.” Sonic turned his body to face Shadow's more readily, the space between them thinning by a small margin. “The Ultimate Lifeform? Tired? Who are you?”

Shadow turned his head slightly in Sonic's direction, cracking a half smile. Sonic had noticed he'd been doing that more lately—smiling—and he couldn't shake the happy flutter of his heart at the sight. It was nice to get along with Shadow. As much as he enjoyed their fights, he had always wished the two of them could be friends, even in a minor capacity. Turns out, the push they needed to get along was co-parenting their illegal government experiment baby. Who knew?

“The only reason you are not tired is that I always do all the work,” Shadow replied quickly, sounding a smidgen annoyed with Sonic’s teasing, yes, but amused regardless.

“Hey, that's a low blow!” Sonic grinned. “You and I both know she likes you better. She never settles down for me!”

“That's because you spend more time goofing around with her than actually trying to put her to sleep.”

“I only try to tire her out! The kid has tons of energy!”

“You only succeed in riling her up,” Shadow retorted. 

“Oh, c'mon, Shads. She loves you. I think she must have, like—imprinted on you when you pulled her outta that test tube. It's a miracle she doesn't cry whenever you leave the room anymore.”

Shadow made a soft, “hmm” in response. He seemed somewhat pleased by Sonic's admission. 

“Maybe,” he said quietly. He almost seemed lost in thought for a moment, a pregnant pause hanging in the air. Sonic held his tongue, something that he was learning how to do more frequently as of late. It took him a bit to figure it out, but Shadow seems to speak his mind more often if he can just shut up and try to listen. Rewarding Sonic for a rare display of patience, Shadow continued, “It's so strange to have someone rely on you so completely.” 

Shadow glanced his way, his eyes expectant. It seemed he was waiting for Sonic to interject.

Apparently, Shadow had him figured out, too.

“Yeah,” Sonic bobbed his head in a steady nod. “Honestly, I never really imagined being a dad. Never thought I’d make a good one.”

“Neither did I,” Shadow admitted. “I don’t even know if I can have children through… Conventional means, so to speak. I don’t think it was ever intended for me to be able to reproduce.”

Sonic bit his tongue, resisting the knee-jerk reaction to tease Shadow about “conventional means of reproduction” and what that might entail, knowing that would be a quick way to shut down their conversation if he wasn’t careful. He and Shadow had certainly gotten closer as a result of this parenting partnership, but there were still boundaries that weren’t meant to be crossed.

“Guess it doesn’t matter either way,” Sonic shrugged. “We’re here now, and we’ve gotta make the most of it.”

“Hmm,” Shadow hummed in agreement. “I guess so.”

For a moment, there was silence. Sonic found himself at a loss as to what he should say next, something that was happening to him more regularly in Shadow’s presence. Keeping the peace between the two of them meant he had to make an active effort not to antagonize the other hedgehog, but that also left him a bit confused as to how he should interact with him. This whole situation caused him to realize that he and Shadow rarely had regular, non-world-destroying contact, and now the guy was around all the time! He was so used to punches flying between them that casual conversation had him floundering awkwardly.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Shadow said suddenly, cutting through the haze of Sonic’s thoughts. It was like he could read his mind, sometimes. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shadow’s tone was something he couldn’t quite recognize. Shadow rolled his wrist, gesturing in circular motions with his hand, clawing at the air as if trying to conjure his thoughts into something tangible that he could grasp. “It’s… Hard to deal with.”

Sonic blinked incredulously, his surprise apparent on his features. Shadow gave him a glare and a curl of his lip, showing the pointed tip of one of his fangs, frustration creasing his brow. For once, Shadow was filling the silence between them.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Shadow growled.

“Wait—are you saying that you like when I talk?”

Shadow pinched the bridge of his nose, “I didn’t say that. I’m just used to you talking all the time. I don’t—” a sigh, “I’m not good with conversation.” 

Sonic felt his quills prickle with a foreign sense of delight. It wasn’t exactly a compliment, but it was close enough to one that it made him a bit giddy all the same. 

Sonic chuckled. “You know what’s crazy? I’ve been trying to talk less.”

Shadow raised an eyebrow, face contorting in confusion. “What? Why?”

Sonic, slightly sheepish, replied, “Well, uh…  You talk more when I’m not talking, so. Been trying not to steamroll our conversations.”

Confusion still colored Shadow’s facial expression, his ruby eyes focusing on Sonic’s face. Sonic chose to admire a corner of the room instead to avoid the intensity of his stare. 

“You? Trying to listen when I’m talking to you? Are you dying?”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Sonic answered dryly. “Just figured if we are going to be parenting a kid together, I should probably get to know you outside of how hard you can kick me in the head.”

A snort of laughter came from Shadow, a sound that felt like a reward in its own right. He could count on one hand the amount of times he’s managed to get Shadow to laugh. 

“A remarkable display of forethought for someone as impulsive as you,” Shadow teased. 

“Ahh, the art of the backhanded compliment. A Shadow the Hedgehog specialty,” Sonic taunted back. “Seriously, though! Tell me your favorite color or something. For all the bad guy butt we’ve kicked together over the years, I feel like I don’t know you all that well.”

Shadow was smiling in earnest—at least, as earnest as someone like Shadow could muster. “That’s what’s top of your list? My favorite color?”

“It’s a start!” Sonic replied. “Since I know you are dying to know, mine’s red. Blue is a close second, though.”

Shadow rolled his eyes, his amusement betraying his attempt at brushing Sonic off. “Why am I not surprised…”

“C’mon, Shadow! This is what the more extroverted types call an icebreaker. Humor me?”

Shadow’s eyes were on him again, analyzing his motivations for this line of questioning silently. If there was one thing Sonic knew about Shadow, whether he decided to answer would be determined by his ego. Shadow was paused in consideration, so Sonic once again chose to wait for whatever answer Shadow would give him. 

“...Green,” he said quickly, eyes drifting elsewhere as he folded his arms across his chest. 

Sonic felt his pulse quicken with excitement. Shadow was actually entertaining his attempt to know more about him! He never thought he’d find the idea of knowing his rival’s favorite color so appealing.

“So you do have one! I was prepared for you to tell me you didn’t care.”

“I don’t,” Shadow quickly asserted. “But,” he continued, “if I had to pick, green is probably it.” 

“Cool,” Sonic said softly, the knowledge of Shadow’s favorite color finding a happy little spot to nest in his brain. “How about, uh… Weather? Do you have a favorite kind of weather?”

Shadow gave him a put-upon frown. “Are you going to keep asking me dumb questions?”

“You’re allowed to ask me dumb questions too, you know,” Sonic reminded.

“Bold of you to assume I have any.”

Sonic smirked, “I’m sure you do.”

Shadow let out a bark of dry laughter, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

In a moment of honesty, Sonic replied, “Yeah, man. I would.”

Shadow stared back in silent reply, his eyes scanning Sonic’s face for any signs of deception or trickery. He clearly hadn’t expected that answer.

“...Spring weather is nice.”

Sonic perked up. “You don’t mind the rain?”

Shadow seemed almost sheepish, suddenly. One of his ears twitched in agitation, a growl escaping his lips. If Sonic had to guess, Shadow didn’t appreciate Sonic’s prodding for a deeper explanation. Even so, he still made the choice to answer, “I… Like the flowers, I guess. Maria liked flowers.”

Ah. Maria. The main reason for a lot of the things Shadow did. 

“That’s a pretty good reason,” Sonic smiled, his tone of voice gentle. “Perfect weather for a long run.”

Shadow peered at him out of the corner of his eye. “What about you?”

“A nice sunny day with a good breeze is killer,” Sonic answered. “Man, I just love the feeling of the wind in my quills, yanno?”

Shadow nodded, humming in agreement. Despite the tension in his shoulders, he did seem to soften slightly as their conversation went on. It might just be a result of his exhaustion, but he seemed less rigid than usual. 

“I suppose I should ask you a question, then,” Shadow said, his voice almost sounding a bit amused. He shot Sonic a knowing look, clearly recognizing his interest would get a reaction out of him. 

He wasn't wrong, Sonic couldn't manage to stifle the smile that broke out across his face.

“Yeah, feel free!” Sonic encouraged, “I'm an open book.”

Shadow was staring at him again, and for a moment Sonic wondered if he had managed to scare him off from asking his question. Shadow didn't leave him hanging for long, though.

“...Why did you agree to this?”

Sonic blinked incredulously. Leave it to Shadow to ask the hard questions.

“Like… What? This game, or…?”

“Stellar,” Shadow affirmed. “Why did you agree to help me with Stellar?”

Sonic leaned back into the couch, scratching at his chin with a gloved finger. “Hmm. Good question.”

Why did he agree to this? He'd never really wanted kids, and he certainly never imagined having them with his rival. It was a concept that was so far outside the realm of possibility that to say the whole scenario blindsided him would be an understatement.

“…Well, it’s the right thing to do, for one. I could tell that you were kind of at a loss as to what you should do with her. You so rarely ask for help—especially from me—that I had to give it a try. Besides, you and I have overcome all kinds of crazy challenges in the past, how hard could this be?”

“It's by no means easy,” Shadow thought aloud. “But… It is easier than it would be if I were doing this alone, so. I suppose I should thank you for that.”

Sonic felt his heart do something funny in his chest. It reminded him of the sensation he'd get right before a roller coaster hit its first drop. He suddenly felt the urge to go on a run.

“Did you just thank me? You sure you don't have a fever or something?” Sonic teased. Even now, as he finally managed to earn genuine answers from his rival, he couldn’t stop himself from defaulting back to their usual banter. 

To his surprise, Shadow didn’t growl, glare, or move to swat at him with his hand. Instead, he let out a short chuff of laughter, his gaze drifting away and up towards the ceiling. 

“I must,” Shadow sighed, not sounding all that bothered. “Or maybe I’m just more tired than I thought.”

Sonic smiled, his expression softening as he observed the other hedgehog. His posture was uncharacteristically relaxed, his body succumbing to the comforts of the couch. Even the Ultimate Lifeform couldn’t fight the exhaustion that came with caring for a fussy baby day in and day out, it seemed. Granted, most baby hedgehogs weren’t capable of teleporting on a whim. Perhaps their unique circumstances were what truly crumbled Shadow’s typical unyielding resolve.

“Take it easy, then,” Sonic said gently. “Catch some Z’s while you can.”

Shadow turned his cheek slightly, peeking at Sonic suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. He was clearly looking for an ulterior motive etched into Sonic’s features. 

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!” Sonic protested. “I’m serious. I’m not going to mess with you while you sleep, and if Stellar wakes up, I can handle it!”

“I don’t trust you to handle anything,” Shadow muttered, lacking the usual bite in his words. 

“Hey,” Sonic half-laughed, “you could try.” 

“Hmm,” a hum of consideration. “For once, I think I might be too tired to argue with you.”

“That makes it sound like you enjoy it.”

“You’re delusional,” Shadow smirked before turning his face skyward once more, this time allowing his eyes to drift closed. “I’ll just rest my eyes for now. If you try anything, I’ll make you regret it.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sonic replied, shifting his weight a bit to get more comfortable in his own position. “I’ll just be thinking of more questions to annoy you with while you recharge.” 

When his teasing wasn’t met with a response, Sonic allowed himself to observe the other hedgehog more freely. It was easier to absorb Shadow’s features when he wasn’t sitting on the other end of his intense stare. 

‘He couldn’t have fallen asleep that quickly, could he?’ Sonic pondered, peering at the remarkably relaxed face of his fellow co-parent. His breathing was slow and steady, his chest rising with every breath, making the snowy poof of hair that resided there a distraction for Sonic’s eyes. He was never able to grow any fur on his own chest—at least, not to that length—so he had always found himself a bit fascinated with the singular spot of white on the other hedgehog. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud, of course.

For a brief moment, he considered what it might feel like to touch the silky-looking tufts of fur, before quickly stamping that thought right back down where it came from. Sonic might be an adrenaline junkie, sure, but he certainly didn’t have a death wish. Without thinking, though, he must have drifted a bit closer into Shadow’s space, because he was soon met with that annoyed ruby glare once more.

“What?” Shadow growled, his hostile edge returning to his voice as his suspicion in Sonic was heightened. 

Sonic moved away quickly, letting out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, I thought for a second you’d already fallen asleep,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was just a bit amazed, is all. Made me realize that I haven’t really seen you sleep before.”

Shadow rolled his eyes before closing them once more, shimmying his shoulders a bit to settle deeper into the couch cushions. “I’m not going to sleep at all if you keep staring at me like that. Watch your stupid show.”

Sonic blinked, turning his head back to the TV he had been watching before Shadow had entered the room. Right. He’d actually been paying attention to that before he found himself distracted with Shadow’s presence. He wasn’t actually sure what was going on with it anymore, but it was a welcome escape from his own impulses to pester Shadow. It wasn’t like he actually wanted to bother the guy, it was just hard to adjust his behavior to fit their new normal. He was so used to their relationship being full of banter and petty competitions that he didn’t know how to just exist around the guy. 

He stole a quick glance in Shadow’s direction before refocusing on the television. From Shadow’s aloofness, it seemed he didn’t know how to exist around him, either. 

The silence between them was filled with the sounds of mindless reality TV entertainment, and Sonic felt himself slowly starting to relax. He hadn’t really noticed before, but his own guard was up when Shadow was around, too. It might not be the same kind of hostility that Shadow displayed, but it was still there. He might have asked Shadow to trust him, but that didn’t mean he trusted Shadow. 

He felt a tiny pang of guilt—what for, he wasn’t exactly sure. Yes, he’d always wished he and Shadow could get along, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the thrill of fighting with him. Being the fastest thing alive meant he was often leaving others behind, but that wasn’t the case with Shadow. Shadow was one of—if not the only—person that could keep up with him. If they became friends, did that mean Shadow would stop chasing him? Would he stop trying to surpass him? He wasn’t entirely sure he was willing to give that thrill up just yet. 

A soft, unfamiliar noise pulled Sonic from the depths of his thoughts. His ear twitched, finding the sound was coming from the black hedgehog that rested beside him. Did he just—?

A rasping exhalation of breath from Shadow’s nostrils confirmed it. Shadow the Hedgehog, the Ultimate Lifeform, was snoring. Not the kind of snore that was disruptive or cacophonous, but the sort that was soft, rumbling, and endearing. Sonic almost couldn’t believe his ears. 

A smile wormed its way onto his face as he observed Shadow in his slumber, a newfound fondness settling in his chest at the sight. 

‘Just going to rest your eyes, huh?’ He thought to himself, amused. 

Maybe he and Shadow’s relationship was going to be different from now on, but perhaps that didn’t have to be a bad thing. If the giddy feeling in his chest was any indication, there might be some thrills to find in this new alliance after all. 

[thezombieprostitute]

Lloyd Hanson - Soulmate AU

A/N: I swear, I tried to ignore him but that only made things worse. @alicedopey didn't help!

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Reader is kidnapped. Smut. Sub/Dom dynamics vs Dub Con?

The bag is removed from your head and you're finally able to get a look at your surroundings. It's a dark room with one light above the table. It looks like one of those police interrogation rooms in TV shows. The duct tape is ripped from your mouth and you hiss from the pain. You test the bonds around your wrists, tied behind your back, but they're too secure to wiggle out of.

The chair across from you is abruptly pulled back and you're face to face with a tall, broad, blue eyed man with a porn mustache. He's smiling at you. You say nothing, letting your confusion show on your face. He rolls up his shirt sleeve and you see his soulmate tattoo. It's an exact match for yours.

"You couldn't have just bought me a coffee," you ask, trying to keep from snapping.

"Sweetheart," he coos, "you're my soulmate. I have to get you used to what the rest of your life is going to be."

You raise an eyebrow at that, "I'm going to constantly be kidnapped and talk with over-the-top idiots?"

He laughs at your comeback, "not quite. But I do have a lot of enemies and I gotta make sure my soulmate doesn't panic, cry and rat me out if they get picked up." He leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "And I gotta say, you are a champ!"

"I'm good at getting kidnapped," you deadpan. "What a wonderful compliment."

"Not easily scared, sassy and sarcastic," he croons. "You really are my soulmate." He winks and you roll your eyes.

"How did you find me," you ask. "I rarely, if ever, let my soulmate tattoo show."

"Someone used a rare photo of your mark to draw me in," he admits. "Imagine my surprise when it was someone trying to kill me."

"And from there you were able to find me," you nod. "Any chance of untying me, now that you know I'm not trying to kill you?"

"I dunno," he leers, "I'm kinda getting hard at the thought of you being so helpless to stop me."

"I swear to whatever deity will listen, I can and will bite you. Literally and metaphorically."

"Metaphorically?"

"The reason you like me being tied up is because your limp dick needs to feel like it's actually capable of leaving some kind of imprint."

"Ouch!" He moves his hand over his heart, "you weren't kidding, Sunshine. That really hurt!" He leaned forward even more, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "do it again."

"The only reason you don't shave your mustache is because you enjoy getting looks from people because you're a needy man-baby who needs the attention."

"Ooooh, that feels so good," he leans back, chuckling. He makes a motion and someone comes up behind you and undoes your bindings.

"Thank you," you nod, rubbing your wrists.

"Ah, I was wondering where the niceness was." You raise your eyebrow again, silently asking him what he meant. "You work with people a lot and always get such glowing customer service reviews. That means you can at least pretend to be nice. But when I dig further, I find that you're a good neighbor who helps the old lady carry in her groceries. Helps the kiddies with their homework. All that wholesome stuff."

"I have social skills," you retort. "Kinda required for the job."

"You don't have a job anymore." You don't try to hide your surprise at that statement. His tone goes stern for the first time, "I can't have my soulmate wasting her time on other people. All of that goodness you do for others? You're gonna do it for me and only me from now on. I get to be the only outlet for your kindness and you're gonna pamper me every time I'm home."

“No I'm not.”

“Excuse you? I don’t see that you have much of a choice here Sweetie.”

“Not my fault you lack the imagination to see my options.” 

“Your options are to either tend to my every want and need or wallow in a basement on starvation rations.” You smile at him and enjoy the momentary drop in his confidence. “You will give me everything I want. In return, I’ll give you everything money can buy.” You throw your head back and laugh at that. He’s squirming a little, wondering what the hell is going on.

“You can have my submission when you earn it,” you coo. “And you don’t earn it by buying it.” You lean forward, putting yourself in his personal space. 

“What the hell is going on?”

You roll up your sleeve to show Lloyd the matching soulmate tattoo and put your arm next to his. At the first touch of your hand, you both feel the electricity that confirms the two halves have met. You reach out and gently rub his cheek with your hand and he leans into it, gently moaning before he catches himself. 

“You see, even though I don’t know your name, I can see right through you. Your reactions to my snipes and my politeness were quite telling. You do crave attention but you’ve only ever been good at getting negative attention. A soulmate could give you that positive attention you long for. Why else would you actually come looking for me? You could keep up that attention seeking behaviour without involving me but you put yourself at risk for the chance at meeting someone who might be kind to you. Who might like you, if only because they have to.”

“My name is Lloyd,” he grumbles.

“Thank you, Lloyd. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you definitely started on the wrong foot.” 

He goes silent but he doesn’t stop your hand rubbing his cheek. He wants to be angry at you. He wants to follow through on his display of force. But he can’t do that. He makes another hand motion and a door opens. He stands up, comes around the table and lifts you up out of your chair. 

“I don’t appreciate not being in control, Sweetheart,” he growls at you. “I may want all of your affection but I will not hesitate to use force if you try to take control from me ever again.”

“As I said, you can have my submission when you’ve earned it.”

“And how do I do that? You turned down my offer of everything money can buy.”

“Treat me like a queen or goddess, not a pet.”

Lloyd takes a deep breath and starts walking towards the door, taking you with him. You manage to keep pace as he leads you through several hallways, up some stairs and finally emerging into, what you can easily assume to be, a mansion. He doesn’t stop to let you take too close of a look. He leads up the wide staircase, to a set of double doors. He pushes them open and you see a giant, canopy bed. You also see things that, while you can’t name them, you're pretty sure they’re meant for BDSM activities. 

He pulls you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, and forces your face up to look at him. “You’re not the only one who can read people, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You enjoy being a bratty, submissive slut. You want someone who can properly dominate you, satisfy that craving your cunt aches for.”

He walks you to the bed as he keeps talking, “you always tried to hide your tattoo because it was your one rebellion against a world that makes you feel helpless. You are kind to your neighbors because you’re too stubborn to let your customer service job kill your soul.”

He pushes you onto all fours on the bed and smacks your ass. “And your unusual calm at being kidnapped? You expect the world to fuck you over.” He smacks your ass again and you bite back a moan. “You expect things to be out of your control so you don’t sweat it when you’re proven right.” He smacks your ass a few more times and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. As soon as he hears it he chuckles. “You don’t want to be treated like a pet? Fine.” He spanks you again. “But I won’t treat you like a goddess or a queen.” Another slap. “I’m gonna treat you like the dirty slut you’ve always wanted to be.” Another slap. “And I’ll make sure you never feel you have to be more than just the cock hungry whore you really are.” 

The spanking continues, hard, fast and painful, until your arms give out. Lloyd reaches his arms around you and pulls you up so that your back is flush against his muscular chest. One hand holds you up by your neck. His other hand reaches under your clothes and smirks at how wet you are. He gathers up some of the slick and starts rubbing circles over your clit. You start whining and gasping at the sensations but you don’t dare move your hips. You’re certain he’ll stop if you do anything he doesn’t tell you to and you don’t want this to stop. 

He whispers in your ear, “so long as you never try to wrestle control from me again, I’ll treat how you really want to be treated.” His fingers move faster and you whimper from how close you are. “Not like a queen or a goddess, no. Not a pet, either.” You’re focused on not moving, trying to make sure that his fingers continue to work their magic. “I’ll treat you like my dirty little slut who will do anything so long as I let her cum.” 

His grip on your neck tightens and he whispers, “cum for me.” Your orgasm hits you harder than you ever thought possible. He keeps his fingers moving as he whispers “such a good slut.” As the ecstasy ebbs your legs start shaking and he lays you down on your back. 

Lloyd licks his fingers and moans appreciatively. He pulls off your pants and underwear, whistling appreciatively at the mess you’ve made of your panties. You try to lift yourself on your elbows but he pushes you back down. “You move when I tell you to, Sweetheart,” he orders, his tone making you whimper. He winks at you, “now let me show you the real reason I keep this mustache.”