#and i was ready to have to face that for lore-knowledge and to have to evaluate at one point it becomes unbearable

[glitter-stained]

*reading Dixon's Birds of Prey* Well DC stands for disrespect canon apparently, who tf left that guy in charge of anything

[samsno1]

Just finished it and i loved it so much! could i request a part 2 to Dream Of Me..?

Dream Come True

Sam Winchester x F!Reader

IT'S HERE!!!!! okay, so many of you asked for a p.2 and it's here, finally. Thank you to everyone who left comments under Dream Of Me and now you have the second part. By the way, I think this shows my slight (huge) obsession with Sam's muscles and my lack of knowledge in blowjobs

Read "Dream Of Me" here

Summary: Sam's avoiding you, he's weird ever since he woke up and you had to question him about it sometime.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected piv (which is fake and i do not encourage), oral (m. and f. recieving), nipple sucking, fingering (sort of), marking, angsty??? maybe, kissing, cursing, use of y/n, dean is done with these two, english is not my first language, NOT PROOF READ, ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE

WC: 11.6K (shhh, don't talk about it)

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

As soon as Sam arrived in the library and saw you standing there in those jeans that did wonders for your legs he immediately felt the room grow hotter. He felt like a high school boy who had just hit puberty with the way he was feeling today or as if it was the first time he dreamed with a woman in his bed – or other places for that matter. He did have feelings for you for some time, but everytime he thought about you, he thought about the sweetness of your smile or the way your laugh sounded when you were slightly drunk. Not about how loud he could make you scream his name.

Sam wasn’t innocent, and neither were you. He knew that you weren’t – he had heard, when the motel walls were too thin, the bed hitting against it and some curses of pleasure out of your mouth. And you most definitely knew he wasn’t, telling you and Dean the history he had with Ruby in excruciating detail even made you feel tingly inside.

Sam tried, badly, to be nonchalant about it around you but it was so difficult. Your plump lips moving as you explained the case, sometimes your tongue darting out to wet it, were driving him insane. He paid much more attention to the way you spoke to him with your hand on his shoulder during the drive to the case, your breath lightly hitting his face and reminding him of the hot kiss you shared in his head, your hand practically burning on his skin through his flannel. And when you finally found a motel to crash in for the time you stayed there, you started loading the gun barrels inside the boys room while Sam attempted to research and Dean was reading lore books on the small table the room had. The way you worked your fingers with your gun was so erotic without you even wanting it to be. Sam was on the verge of breaking as he stared at you, who was oblivious to his looks.

But one person that wasn’t oblivious was Dean Winchester. When he looked up from his book to Sam, ready to ask him a question, he almost immediately closed his mouth when he noticed Sam was doing anything but research. He looked at the way his brother was sitting, with an elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand, torso slightly turned in your direction, eyes trained on your hands. Dean then looked at you and was shocked that you hadn’t even acknowledged Sam’s stare. He smirked to himself as he shook his head in disbelief.

Of course Dean knew about Sam’s feelings. He got him to admit to his crush on you one night where the brothers were in a bar alone and you were in a hunt by yourself. Sam had just hung up his phone after talking to you, his slightly slurred words made you chuckle in the other end of the line and, when Sam put his phone down on the table, he wrapped one hand in his beer and sighed dreamily, staring mindlessly at his thumb that brushed the bottle left to right.

“Her laugh is so beautiful, it matches her” He murmured and Dean almost choked on his own beer, eyes widening at his brother, eyebrows furrowed. As if Sam had realized he actually said it out loud and not just thought, he looked over at Dean, face to face with his brother’s amused look. Sam just sighed disappointedly, knowing that there was no way he was escaping this, not even giving the ‘I’m just drunk!’ excuse. So, he just accepted it “Don’t tell her…”

As if all dots connected, Dean leaned back on his chair, a grin on his face as he thought about the interactions you and Sam had with each other and how it was actually quite obvious. “You like her?” Dean asked the obvious and Sam just nodded. After that, as the amazing older brother he is, Dean promised he wouldn’t utter a word to you about this and he was keeping his promise up to this day, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease the youngest about it…

“Hey Sam, have you found anything?” Dean spoke up and that seemed to wake Sam up from his trance. He cleared his throat and desperately tried to make it seem like he was concentrated fully on his assigned task.

“Um, y-yeah, all the victims died of blood loss and.. and there are bite marks…” Sam said, making you look up at him too, throwing your hair back with a movement of your head. Your hands had stopped working on the guns and you got up from the bed you were sitting, leaving the weapon behind. You walked until you were behind Sam and, using his body for support, putting your left hand over his right shoulder, you leaned in to look at the screen, confirming the information yourself.

Sam stiffened up the moment you got closer to him. With the way you were leaning in – your hand on him again – made him take a deep breath to stay put. He had his eyes glued on the laptop screen because he feared that if he glanced at you in any way he wouldn’t be able to control his most primal needs – A.K.A. avoid his sinful thoughts to take over and a boner to rise. He could feel your warmth behind him and, as you nodded and walked away, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions in his head, he finally felt like he could breathe.

“It’s clearly vampires. Thank God we didn’t have to turn libraries upside down to figure this one out” You said with a slight smile to Dean, your arms crossed in front of you. He closed his book with a thud, thankful for not having to do much more. You turned back to Sam who, at this point, had also closed his laptop and seemed lost in thought.

To get your suit in your bag – that you left over the other bed –, you had to go past Sam and, as you did, you brushed a hand over his arm and got closer to his face, snapping him out of his thoughts. You lowered your voice a little, for Dean not to hear what you were about to say, a worried frown in your face.

“Hey, are you doing okay? You seem off” You ask, slightly tilting your head, your eyes searching into his for any kind of discomfort, be it emotional or physical.

Alarms went off inside Sam’s head and, as soon as he could gather his thoughts together, he suddenly stood up, making you pull away from him and widen your eyes, startled. You furrowed your eyebrows at him and he swallowed deeply, trying to moist his dry throat.

“I’m fine” He mumbles before going to the bathroom, brushing past you in a hurry, his arm bumping against your shoulder. You stare at the shut door once he locks himself inside, mouth agape and an offended look on your face. You turn to face Dean again, questioning him with a look. Dean shrugs his shoulders and gets up from his chair.

At this point you felt kind of…hurt. You had done nothing to Sam, not that you were aware of, and your face dropped. Dean felt the need to guarantee you that it was probably nothing but even he was confused. Sam tended to long to be beside you, to touch you, or have any excuse for you to touch him. He swallowed his jealousy when you had asked Dean once to take his shirt off to care for his wounds. That day, as you stitched the gash on his brother's abdomen, Sam stared daggers at Dean, who felt the need to reassure him that you were all Sam’s, that Dean saw you as a little sister and nothing else. 

This kind of avoidance towards you was weird to the point even you felt affected by it. You weren’t one to take things to the heart – you’re a hunter for fucks sake – but when it came to the boys, especially Sam, you felt worse than ever. They were often harsh, either with each other or with other people. Of course they had to be tough and mean when it came to it due to their line of work but, behind closed doors, they were the sweetest people you’ve ever met, always caring for you and one another and often sacrificing their own comfort – and sometimes their lives – so other people can sleep without worrying about what’s lurking in the night.

Still, it hurt when you became a victim of their temper and Sam being the one shutting you out this time was not only unexplainable but also like a punch to the gut. Let's say the tall, muscular and smart guy Sam Winchester was had you falling for him quickly – and, soon, harder – than you expected. He always tried to be as sweet as he could be and as understandable. He had a natural instinct to comfort the victims you guys often talked to, always the one to do the talking. You had noticed the way he approached the subject with care, especially if the victim was related to the interviewed in any way, and had taken that as a mental note. Hey, he’s good with words. 

But, Sam could also be firm and assertive when it came to it. Once, while you and him were interrogating a guy who wasn’t cooperating at all with you, even when you both were disguised as FBI, Sam snapped. His big hand came with full force against the table, his palm facing down and a loud bang echoing through the small room. It startled you to the point where you jumped slightly, eyes wide as you looked at your ‘partner’. Sam was fuming. His nostrils were flared and his eyebrows were low, casting a shadow over his eyes. He slowly leaned in closer to the guy's face, a wicked grin emerging on his face.

“Look…” He started, voice low, raspy. He gently pulled his suit aside, secretly showing the man his shiny, silver gun safely resting against his hip. You watched as the dude swallowed harshly and his eyes stared at the weapon. “If you won’t cooperate with us…” Sam straightened up, holding both his hands behind his back as he started to walk until he stood beside the guy. He leaned towards his ear, the guy completely frozen. “We are going to rip the truth out of you” He whispered.

You had struggled to keep your composure. The way Sam showed his power over the man – who ended up telling both of you his side of the story after the threat – was distracting. It was safe to say you had discovered something about yourself that day. You had sat the whole ride back to the motel with your legs crossed to numb the throbbing between your thighs as you imagined Sam talking to you that way, in different settings. A cold shower was barely enough to calm you down.

The mix of all these things and other little stuff about the younger brother is what made him special to you. And, now, he was avoiding you.

You sighed and walked back to the bed, sitting beside the guns you’ve left scattered over it, facing Dean’s direction. You leaned on your knees with your elbows, holding your head with your hands, squishing your cheeks and making your pout more prominent than intended. Dean looked at you with pity.

“Did I do something? Say something?” You ask Dean, looking up at him. Dean shakes his head and sighs, getting up from the chair and walking to the mini bar. You knew exactly what he was reaching for and you stretched a hand out to grab the beer bottle once he handed it to you. You opened it easily with your hand and took three big gulps of it. Dean opened his as he sat down beside you this time, on the bed, and threw the lid over the bedside table, the material clinking against the wood.

“Nah, you didn’t do anything, he’s just in a mood” He said but it didn’t seem to help, your face still sad and your head far away, filled with the wrong thoughts. He sighed and gave you a side hug, your head laying against his shoulder. Dean rubbed his hand up and down your upper arm mindlessly to comfort you. “Don’t worry about it sweetheart, you did nothing wrong, he’s just…being Sam, I’m sure this has nothing to do with you, okay? I’ll make sure to kick his ass later” He smiled.

You smiled slightly at the last part, shaking your head at the older Winchester, the typical brotherly teasing something you grew fond of.

Meanwhile, inside the bathroom, Sam was trying to keep it together. He had never felt this way before and it was driving him crazy trying to stay away from you because, at the same time he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if anything he did or said showed his attraction – physical and emotional – towards you, he was dreading this. He longed for your closeness, for your touch, not necessarily in a sexual way, much like the one of concern you had just given him. But right now everything became sexual to him, just your hand over his arms was enough to drive goosebumps over his spine.

He washed his face with the cold water from the sink, brushing his wet hand through his hair. He breathed deeply and dried his face, ready to leave the bathroom and go back to acting as if he didn’t want to kick Dean out of the room and have you right here, right now.

Once he opened the door, he regretted it almost immediately. When he saw Dean so close he clenched his hand against the door handle, swallowing his jealousy. You weren’t his, he reminded himself, he didn’t have the right to be jealous of someone that wasn’t his. But, oh, he was. It was uncontrollable, but undeniable.

He watched Dean’s hand rub up and down your arm, your head laid over his shoulder so comfortably. He bit the inside of his cheek as he approached the both of you to place his laptop back into its case. You had noticed his presence, lifting off of Dean and looking at his side profile. He won’t even look at me. You glanced at Dean, who had also realized his brother’s behavior, and gave him a disappointed look.

You sighed through your nose and grabbed your gun to put in the waistband of your jeans. You also took your bag that you always had with you on hunts, separate from the one with your personal items, and threw it over your shoulder. Dean just stared as you got ready to leave, not stopping you. He needed some alone time with Sam to ask him what the fuck was going on.

“I’m going to the car, we can leave once you’re both ready” You said. Dean acknowledged it with an ‘Okay’ and Sam just hummed. You opened the door and left, angrily walking towards Baby.

As soon as the door closed behind you Dean got up from the bed and aggressively spun Sam around, grabbing at his shoulder.

“Hey–!”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean interrupted, and an angry scowl on his face. He whisper-yelled, still worried that you might hear them. Sam gave him a confused look and Dean rolled his eyes at the stupidity of his brother. “Why are you acting like this with her?”

“Acting like what?” Sam bit back, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Stop pretending like you don’t know Sammy! Why are you ignoring Y/N all of a sudden? Weren’t you the one all” Dean raised his hands, doing quotation marks with both his index and middle fingers “‘head over heels’ for her, hm?”

Now it was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. He crossed his arms in front of him, slightly looking down at his brother due to the height difference. “It’s nothing” He mumbled, looking away. Images of you roamed around his head at Dean’s question and it reminded him why he was doing this in the first place. He was avoiding you for your own good, you and your friendship with him.

“It’s not nothing, damn it, the girl thinks she did something. Did she? Because you sure make it look like you are angry with her” Dean kept poking at the subject, getting on Sam’s nerves. His face softened once his brother told him you felt bad. “What happened?” Dean asked again, this time a little more softly after he noticed Sam’s face drop at his words.

Sam sighed and looked around the room, nervous. He didn’t know if he should actually tell Dean about this – he’d definitely make fun of him endlessly. But still, he didn’t know if making you sad was worth it. He ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was under pressure and mumbled “I had a dream”

“What?” Dean asked, not understanding whatever language his brother just spoke.

“A dream”

“Dream? What do you mean?”

“I had a dream…with Y/N”

“What do you mean a dream with–” Realization suddenly hits Dean “...Oh” and he relaxes his eyebrows, like he just made sense of everything that happened that day. Then he smirks. Smirks and starts to laugh his ass off as Sam just stands there, cheeks flushed, waiting for his brother to calm down. He knew it.

Sam started to smile slightly as his brother kept trying to talk over his laughter, his embarrassment almost gone. Once Dean finally took a few breaths, a hand on his chest as he dried his fake tears and his laughter died down with a sigh. He looked at Sam who stood there absolutely flushed.

“Man, that’s why you were taking longer in the shower than usual” Dean said with a fake disgust in his face. “Remember me to wash that bathroom twice before using”

“Shut up” Sam mumbled and looked away, suddenly deep in thought. Dean stopped joking and crossed his arms, giving Sam a silent questioning look. Sam glanced at his brother. “What?”

“This kind of still doesn’t answer my question. Why are you avoiding her?” Dean asked and Sam looked at him like he had three heads. “Shouldn’t this make you, and I can’t believe I’m saying this but, excited to be around her”

“Dean, come on, I don’t want her to think I’m a pervert and, besides, she doesn’t even like me that way” And when Sam said that, Dean’s eyeballs almost popped out of his head, his eyes widening at his brother. Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, asking the Lord above – better yet, Chuck – to give him the strength to deal with Sam’s stupidity.

“Do you not see it?” He asks. Sam makes a face.

“See what?”

“Oh my God, are you blind Sammy? Or just severely oblivious?” Dean inquiries. “She’s so obviously into you it hurts to watch”

“Dean, please–”

“Don’t ‘please’ me! It’s so clear! She’s always near you when she has the chance, she always insists on helping you when you get hurt on hunts, she looks at you like you’re the last man on Earth, she always worries so much about you…”

“She does the same with you and…” Sam bit the inside of his cheek “...you guys seemed pretty cozy when I came out of the bathroom”

Dean almost hit Sam right then and there, or took one of the guns and shot him through his leg – as a warning. How could he even…?

“Are you fucking serious? That girl is like a sister to me. And why would I even flirt with her when I know you’re into the chick? I’m bad but not that bad, I ain’t stealing your girl” Dean reasures Sam.

His girl. Dean said. But you weren’t his. Sam sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, a million thoughts running through his head. He walked close to the bed and sat down, his and his brother’s guns slightly bouncing over the mattress with the added weight. He held his head in his hands, his hair falling beside his face, his elbows propped over his knees.

“What am I supposed to do?” Sam asks, helpless. Dean shakes his head.

“Talk to her, it’s as simple as that” Dean responded as if it truly was that easy. Sam thought about it. You weren’t gonna hate him for liking you and, maybe, Dean was right and you liked him too. It was a 50/50 chance between rejection and love. He weighed his options and decided in his mind.

Sam suddenly got up, startling Dean. He grabbed his gun and bag, walking around with a determined gaze. Dean accompanied his movements with his eyes, wanting to question the youngest about what conclusion he had gotten to but he was soon with a hand on the door handle and he looked back at his older brother, smiling.

“Let’s go, we have things to kill”

It was safe to say that seeing you in a suit didn’t help Sam’s mind as it roamed back to those thoughts. As said before, you looked good in absolutely anything, but boy could you absolutely tear a man apart with the way you looked. You styled your hair in a more professional way using Baby’s rear view mirror and it looked amazing, your strands glowing in the faint daylight the day had left.

You were both standing close enough so that Sam was able to smell your perfume and the scent of your hair products. It became harder to concentrate on whoever you were interviewing, his eyes wandering to stare at the back of your head, wanting to see inside your brain for any message that said ‘Hey Sam, I’m into you too!’

Dean had gone elsewhere to deal with other things regarding the case so that left you and Sam. Alone. You felt, for the first time in years that you knew Sam, awkward to be around him. On the ride to the witness’ house, you barely talked, something that rarely happened between the two of you. You thought about asking what was wrong but that didn’t work the first time so you hadn’t done it again.

Right now, you sat on the passenger seat of the Impala, staring at Sam's hands gripping the steering wheel. He had hardly looked at you throughout the whole day — or so you thought.

Sam was in an intense battle inside his head and the way you kept looking at him wasn't helping. When he left the room after talking to Dean, he thought he felt brave enough to tell you everything he wanted to but, once he saw you sitting in the backseat in all your beauty, he was reminded of why he hadn't done it before.

He looked at you in secret everytime you were distracted. The way your hips moved when you walked, the way you crossed your legs in the seat every now and then. Oh what he wouldn't give to squeeze your thighs between his fingers right now. You had your arms crossed in front of your chest and — may Sam be forgiven — but the way it made your breasts look when you did that.

He gripped his fingers against the steering wheel even tighter, grounding himself from his thoughts, his knuckles turning white. He sped up the car, unconsciously trying to get back to the motel quicker.

You looked at his side profile then, a quizzical look on your face. He still didn’t look at you.

“Sam” You called. He didn't acknowledge it entirely, his head to focused on not getting a boner at the thought of fucking you in the backseat. You inch closer to him, a hand on his shoulder, “Sam!”

“What!” He answers, dryly. You brush it off, already used to his attitude for the day.

“You don't need to go that fast, we aren't in a hurry, God damn” You huff and pull your hand away from him, sinking back down in your seat angrily.

“Okay, sorry” He mumbles. You feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. A message from Dean. You take your phone and read the message. “Found a bar, don’t wait for me to get back ;)”. You chuckle and send an answer back knowing you’d probably only see him next morning. You told him to be safe – in all ways – and not drink too much. Sam looked at you from the corner of his eye. “Who’s that?”

“Madonna” You reply, sarcastically. He doesn’t say anything so you look at his face, which has an annoyed expression over it. “It’s Dean, he found a bar, told us not to wait for him”

Sam hums in acknowledgement and silence settles again, letting your mind wander over the possibilities of why Sam was acting with you this way. You were usually pretty playful, talked a lot with each other, either in the car or before you both parted ways to sleep, each in your own room. This silence, this avoidance was driving you nuts trying to figure out what happened. You felt like crying, honestly, overwhelmed with this feeling inside you. These feelings, plural. Your feelings for Sam mixed with this sickness that downed on you when you would notice he could barely say a word to you.

Lost in your head, you almost didn’t notice when Sam parked Baby in the motel's parking lot, only realizing it when the comforting hum of the engine went away. You both got out of the car, getting your bags in the trunk. You weren’t in the same room as the boys but you felt the need to talk to Sam so, when you came up behind him to his door and got inside his room, stepping in and quickly closing the door behind you, he was confused.

“Aren’t you going to–”

“What’s going on?” You asked, throat tight and heart aching, but you refused to cry. Sam furrowed his eyebrows and you stepped closer to him, standing barely two feet away from the Winchester.

“You’ve been acting cold towards me all day! All damn day. And I have no idea why.” You pressed your index against his chest accusingly, pushing him back slightly, not because you were necessarily stronger, but because you caught him off guard, your outburst was unexpected.

“I didn’t–”

“I tried, okay? I tried to figure out what I did but I…I don’t know. I tried to talk to you earlier today and you brushed me off, you seem incapable of looking at me properly, you’re cold, you’re quiet and I have no idea why so, please tell me. What’s going on?”

Your eyes were glassy and your heart was racing. Sam was speechless, he didn’t know you were feeling this way. Dean had told him, of course, but he had no idea you were actually that affected by his distancing. And to think that he only stood away because he didn’t want to make you feel bad or creeped out about his nervousness, it had the exact opposite effect. He felt his heart sink as he saw you holding back tears and his first instinct was to wrap his arms around you.

You hugged him back, thankful for some reassurance that he at least didn’t hate you, your arms wrapped around his waist and your face pressed against his chest. Sam caressed your head, your hair feeling soft under his fingers.

“You didn’t do anything, Y/N, don’t say that” He told you.

You pulled away from his chest to look at him. “Then tell me what’s wrong”

Sam sighs and closes his eyes momentarily. He had imagined this moment thousands of times, where he told you about how he felt. He couldn’t believe it would be after he ignored you because you were too hot to handle. He looked at you again, drowning in your beautiful eye color, one that he could stare for hours at its beauty. He then looked up, asking for the strength to tell you all he wanted, his throat visible to you as he swallowed his nerves.

“Actually, yeah, you kind of did something” He says, moving his hands until he was holding your upper arms, a smirk on his lips as he eyes you down. You opened your mouth, shocked, but, before you could say anything, he continued. “You drive me crazy, Y/N”

You stood still, scared to move as he talked. You were confused, lost. Hadn’t he just said you had nothing to do with this? Meanwhile, Sam just looked at you for a few seconds, silent. He took you in completely, your body still hidden under the FBI suit but he felt like he already had it memorized. He wanted to touch you, to feel you and he felt like, if he held back any longer, he could lose you. Lose you to someone who wasn’t scared of loving you. “Sam, I don’t–”

“Just– Look at you. You are one of the most amazing women I know, you’re strong, you’re smart, you– God, there’s no words that can describe just how incredible you are. You care for people more than you do for yourself and, even if that makes me angry sometimes, it just shows how big of a heart you have” He takes a breath. “You can be dying but you’d still put a bandaid on someone's scraped knee just because they asked you to, because you care.”

Sam slowly moves his hands to hold you by your neck, his rough palms hot against your skin. You had no words, you just hoped that your eyes could talk for you as you stared into his hazel ones. You had so much to say but words refused to form in your mouth. You never thought Sam would be the one to confess, hell, you never thought he even liked you that way. Hearing him say those things was like getting hit by a train of happiness. You raised your hands to wrap around his wrists, gently holding them as you prayed for him to continue.

“You’re the girl I picture to be forever in my life, if not as a lover, please let it be as a friend. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, but, at the same time, I can’t keep these feelings to myself much longer. If you don’t want me that way, it’s fine, but I need you here with me, one way or another” Sam finishes and starts searching your face for any kind of reaction. He just put his heart in your hands and it was up to you to shatter it or not. He felt his nerves on fire. He rubbed his thumb against your jawline to keep himself grounded and hold onto the comforting thought that you hadn’t pulled away from his touch.

You suddenly smiled, wide and proud. Sam seemed to relax when he saw it, a breath he didn’t know he was holding coming out of his mouth. You felt a rush of happiness go through you as you realized he wasn’t avoiding you because he was mad at you, he was avoiding you because he wanted you so bad he felt like he could make you mad. And that was so Sam. It was exactly like him to tone down his own feelings because of other people and how they might feel, even if it eats him on the inside. What felt even better is that he managed to muster up the courage to come here and tell you about everything in the most Sam way possible, in a way that made shivers run through you.

“Sam Winchester, if you don’t kiss me right now I might just–” He didn’t even let you finish, his plump lips crashing against yours in earnest. He waited months for this and there was no way he was delaying this further. Your words are swallowed down by his mouth along with a surprised gasp you let out. One of his hands went further until it held you behind your neck, his thumb still caressing your jaw as relieved breaths came out of his nose, he was so nervous he would get dumped and his heart crushed that kissing you felt better than anything he ever imagined. The dream might’ve been good but actually kissing you felt so, so much better.

Your lips were sweet and your skin felt soft, a big contrast against his rough hands from handling weapons and burning bones. Those dreams of his came to mind yet again, the thought of exploring your whole body with his mouth made him groan, opening his mouth and teasing your lips with his tongue so you’d open them. You gladly did, letting one of your hands wrap around the base of his neck, pulling him in. 

He lowered one of his hands to your waist through the inside of your black suit, pulling your body flush against his, squeezing your skin through the layers of clothing, eager to feel every inch of you. You groaned at his touch, a surge of heat polling into your belly. His hands took the opportunity to explore what he could – like dream Sam did – trailing his fingers up your back and you shivered, the light touch just making your need for him bigger.

His tongue explored your mouth, the kiss growing more heated within the moment. He starts to gently take the suit off your body, sliding it against your arms without breaking the kiss. Sam thinks for the first time in the last few seconds. He thinks about all the times he imagined being able to do this and, now that he had the chance and his feelings were reciprocated, he wanted to make it as good as possible for the both of you. He pulls away, wanting to make sure that you are on board with this.

His breathing is heavy and his cheeks are flushed as he looks at you, pupils dilated with desire – desire for you. Not once in your life have you thought that Sam would look at you that way – and God how much you dreamed of it. He was always much more secretive with his antics than Dean was, often keeping to himself instead of bragging about it, but you knew. You knew he was a passionate lover and the way he behaves just gives away how much of a gentleman he must be in bed. 

“Is this okay? Are you okay with this?” He asked you, voice filled with lust and deeper than his usual. You could’ve melted right then and there as he looked between your eyes, searching for any discomfort. Instead of telling him, you decided to show Sam how bad you wanted him. You slowly walked back, dropping the suit he already had taken halfway off from your body to the ground. You didn’t take your eyes off of him and he stared intensely at you right back, attentive to what you were going to do.

Your hands slowly trailed up your body, roaming through your curves and you see Sam swallow, his fists clenching and unclenching beside him, his throat so deliciously biteable. Once your fingers arrived at the top button of your white shirt, you started to unbutton one by one, slowly. You took your time, eyes trained on his with a smirk on your lips. You were playing bold but the way he was looking at you made your knees weak. His eyes were analyzing every movement of your hands and he stood unbelievably still, like a hunter watching its prey, careful to not scare it away.

Once the last button was undone, you dropped the white clothing to the ground. You now stood in your bra, the cold of the room hitting your skin and making goosebumps rise over it. You got closer to the man again and he accompanied you with his hazel orbs, now a tone darker due to his dilated pupils and the poor lighting in the room. You took one of his hands and placed it against your bare skin, the hot touch making you sigh before grabbing him by the neck with the other hand, bringing his face closer but, instead of kissing him, you placed your mouth closer to his ear.

“I want you, Sam” You whisper in his ear and leave a kiss right below it. Sam squeezed his eyes shut, keeping as much control as he could, biting his lower lip. He groans and a ton of thoughts go through his head – you, naked below him, your attitude gone as he fucks it out of you, pleasurable moans of his name coming out of your mouth. I want you, you said. He strongly grips your hips with both hands, making you yelp, and pushes you towards the bed, manhandling you successfully. Once your back is against the mattress, Sam immediately attacks your neck, kisses and bites making you sigh his name and arch your back into him.

“You have no idea what you do to me” He mumbled against your skin. And, really, you had no clue. He had spent the whole day thinking about this exact moment. The whole day, more like the last 4 months. The months where he had the urge to smash whatever man’s head that flirted with you against a wall and kiss you right then and there, in front of everyone to show who you truly belonged to. “For ages I’ve been thinking about you like this, you are everything that I think about and it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane”

He bites you particularly harder and you moan, your hand flying to his head and tugging at his hair. “Sam!” Your plea came out pathetically needy and he pulled away from your neck to look you in the face, his strong arms caging you beneath him and making you focus solely on the grin he had displayed on his lips. He kisses your lips again, passionate and needy, a groan rippling deep in his throat.

With his lips still glued to yours, he tugged his own suit away from his body, fumbling with the clothing and throwing it away so quick you barely noticed it, loosening his tie and bringing his hands right back to your body, because now that he could touch you, there was nothing in the world that could take him away. He landed his hands on your ribs and trailed then behind your back, his fingers teasing against your bra.

He broke the kiss and with unsteady breaths close to your mouth he asked: “Can I?” as he teases his finger under the bra strap. You hummed in approval and grabbed both his cheeks, giving him a firm peck on the lips to emphasize it.

“Yes, you can, please” You say. It came out much needier than intended but Sam didn’t seem to mind. You thought he didn’t, but he did. He smiled at you, feeling pride in the thought of making you needy and, hearing your voice – that’s so assertive and strong on a daily basis – breathy and desperate, made him wonder why he hadn’t done this earlier. You looked stunning under him and no dream could ever picture what he was seeing. Your eyes hooded, mouth agape and thumbs caressing the stubble on his face, eager to touch him as much as he was to touch you. He was looking right through the gates of heaven.

He proceeded to unclasp your bra, gently taking it off of you. He does all that without taking his eyes off your face and only allows himself to look down once the undergarment was long forgotten, laying on the ground. You didn’t know what to do or where to look, turning your face from him and feeling your cheeks heat up. You, of course, had been with other men in bed and you never truly cared if they didn’t think of you above a one night stand – you didn’t think much of them either. But Sam made you feel nervous. He was being so caring up until now, contrasting against most men you’ve been with, the thought of not reciprocating it properly made you shy below him.

He was appreciating the perfection he had under him, his fingers trailing your sides affectionately when he noticed your face turning away. You were biting your lip and avoiding his piercing gaze and he raised a hand to hold your chin, slowly turning your face to look at him again. He kissed you to ease your nerves but, this time, it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t simply a carnal need, he kissed you with love, with passion and you could feel it tearing through your soul, his feelings pouring out and painting your insides.

He pulled back again and his eyes traveled through your face as a smile painted his lips. “You’re beautiful” He says and you smile back at him widely, your heart racing in your chest. You didn’t know what to say to that so you grabbed at his loose tie that hung just below your jaw and pulled him in harshly, smashing your lips against his. The unexpected move made Sam lose his balance and you took the opportunity to change your positions, laying him back on the bed as you straddled his waist with your legs.

Sam gripped your hips as you made out, gently rolling you over him and you felt it. You felt him under you through the clothing you both still had on and a whine escaped your lips into the kisses. Sam leaves your lips to start attacking your neck, leaving hickeys and bites behind. He was holding onto the last ounce of control he had, you were just so much. Every little noise you made went straight to his cock and he couldn’t handle it anymore, you still had too much clothing on and he needed to do something about it.

Sam turned both of you over again and left your lips to stand straight in front of you. The sight of you half naked, splayed out over the bed, hair messed up, shiny spots from his saliva against your neck and collarbone was very close to the sight he’d dreamed about. But a hundred times better. Because this was real, he was touching you, kissing you, marking you and making you his.

He felt suffocated in his own clothes and he took the opportunity to take off his tie and his white shirt along the way, slowly revealing his defined body. You swallowed to try and not drool over the sight, his strong physique covered by a thin layer of sweat, the tattoo he had on his chest contrasting against his tanned torso and few scars he had here and there. Some were white, others were pink-ish – more recent – but he looked fabulous no matter what. You’d seen him shirtless before, while patching him up or when the bunker was too hot for either of the brothers but none of those situations were as intimate as this. He was half naked only for your eyes to see – as much as you were for his.

He noticed your stare and he smirked as he approached your lower belly with his mouth. You held your breath and closed your eyes as his mouth made contact with your skin. From then on, he kissed his way up, biting here and there in places only you would know if the mark was still there the next day. He kissed your own scars that were scattered through your torso softly, treating them with care because, as much as him, you had gotten hurt on hunts. Besides, he found it amazing how strong you were. He admired you and your scars were there to prove to everyone who saw you that you were a fighter.

His hands came up alongside his kisses, caressing your sides so lightly it was almost ticklish. When his mouth got to the valley of your breasts he looked up at you, a question in his eyes. He had his hands placed right below your boobs, not moving, not touching them, just there as he waited for your approval. You were burning up from the inside out, the sight was so much. His eyes pleading for you to let him touch you, his hair making a curtain around his face.

“Touch me, Sam” You whisper, knowing that even if it wasn’t loud, he could hear you. He grinned and went right into action, his hands filling themselves up with your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. You let out a low moan, the little stimulation you got from his fingers finally doing something to soothe the fire inside you.

He joined with his mouth, sucking and licking deliciously at it. You flew a hand to tangle into his hair, unconsciously tugging at his roots when he lightly bit at your nipple. Sam would groan against your skin every time you would tighten your fingers in his hair and he felt like he could cum just by hearing your faint pleas and breathless whines. He continued kissing up after that, his hands still squeezing your breasts lightly.

His mouth marked your collarbones with hickeys, painting your skin with reds and purples. He nipped at your neck, sucking at your pulse point and you bucked your hips against his, the pleasure too much and too little all at once. He was taking his time with you, appreciating every second that he could get and yet you felt his desperation when he tightened his hands around your boobs once your crotch hit his.

You tugged his hair harder to bring his face close to yours and Sam complied. You smashed your lips against his, the kiss all tongue and teeth, completely desperate. Your breathing was heavy and Sam brought his hands to your back, lifting it off the bed and making your chest glue against his, your sensitive nipples grinding against his skin. You clawed your nails on his shoulders to keep yourself together, markings that looked like half moons left behind in your desperation to remind you all this was real.

You dragged your hands down his arms, nails lightly scraping over his skin, and gently guided his forearms down, his hands going along. He proceeded to rest his palms over your covered ass, groaning in your mouth when he realized what you were insinuating. You wanted more, needed more.

You pulled back from his mouth just enough so you could talk. You opened your eyes to see one of the sexiest views you’ve ever encountered. Sam’s mouth was open, unsteady breaths hitting your mouth as his eyes stared down at you. You brought a hand to his cheek and just appreciated the sight for a moment before your mouth gave him an open mouthed kiss below his jaw. You felt goosebumps down your spine when he moaned lightly at your action, his hands squeezing at your ass. You placed your mouth close to his ear and Sam closed his eyes, waiting to see what you were going to do now.

“Fuck me, Sammy, don’t hold back” You whispered and Sam’s knees almost gave out, the nickname he usually hated hearing sounding so sweet coming out of your mouth. He pulled back to look at you.

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking between your mouth and your eyes. You nodded.

“Yes” Was all you had to say before he grabbed at the hem of your pants, dragging them down your legs. He distanced himself from you to kneel between your legs, face to face with your covered pussy, the only thing you were wearing now being your panties.

After discarding your pants, Sam roamed his hands slowly up your legs, from your ankles to where your hips connected to your thigh. You were clenching and unclenching your fists beside your body, holding your torso up with your elbows and looking down to see him hypnotized by your soaked underwear, his eyes glued. You were embarrassedly wet and, as Sam dragged a finger over it, grinding against your neglected clit, you bucked against his hand, whining.

“Sam…” You pleaded and he finally looked up at you. You were taking deep breaths, your chest going up and down, decorated by the marks left by his mouth and teeth. You looked stunning. “Do something” 

And he does. He kisses right above your covered sex and you moan deep in your throat again, fingers gripping the sheets. Sam was feeling pride in himself. He was the one who got you like this, not any other man. He was the one you were begging for and he was the one who was going to give you everything you wanted. He wanted to worship you atom by atom of your being because that was what you deserved, he was going to treat you like the goddess you were.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and, like he was opening a present he long wished for, – which was kind of true – he takes it off so calmly you were close to combusting. When Sam finally sees you completely nude for the first time, only for his eyes to see and outside of his dirty dreams, he hums in delight. Fucking hums. He’s done for the moment he sees your cunt, wet and glistening just for him. Oh how badly he wanted this, for so, so long he wanted you like this and now he was finally fulfilling his deepest desire.

He squeezes your thighs in his hands before reaching for your sex, his middle finger collecting your wetness in his finger. You buck against his hand again, this time even more sensitive and neglected than before. And you cry out, not with tears, but a desperate sob for attention. Sam notices that and looks up at your face to see your eyebrows furrowed and a sheen of sweat in your forehead, you looked so fucked out without even him actively doing anything. He softened and caressed your sides with his hands, soothing your nerves – or trying to, at least.

“Shh, pretty girl, I’m gonna take care of you” He says “I’m just appreciating how perfect you are, taking my time with the girl of my dreams”

Your face softened and you felt your cheeks warm up even more than they already were. You bit back a smile. You felt unique at that moment, as if you were the only woman in the world as he said the sweetest words inches away from your pussy, it was almost laughable to think that one of the most romantic things you’ve ever heard was said between your legs.

Sam smiled at you and started kissing your inner thighs, so close yet so far from where you truly wanted him. He loved kissing your skin, he loved to feel you and you were keeping that in mind. He expressed his love physically rather than using words and you were just realizing it wasn’t just in bed he was like that. He always wanted to cook for you, he knew how you liked your drink, he would take care of you when you would get too drunk or when you were hurt or not feeling great. He hugged you, kissed the top of your head, pranked you. He gave you his jacket when you were cold or for you to use as a pillow when you were sleeping on a longer ride. He protected you, even if he knew you didn’t need it, either literally, putting his body in front of yours when someone or something threatened you, or not letting you go alone on hunts – including this one, where you had offered to go alone to questioning and, even if he was technically avoiding you, he wasn’t going to let you go solo.

Sam had loved you for so long and you were oblivious. Were. Because now he was digging his fingers in your thighs, mouth closing over your clit and you were arching your back. His stubble scratched your inner thighs, adding more to the building pleasure in your belly. He sucked at your cunt so skillfully that you wondered how long you would last like this and how much he had practiced to have a mouth that was able to do that. He moved his hands to your ass again, bringing your hips up and burying his face deeper into your heat.

He felt like he could die happy between your thighs because he wasn’t leaving there anytime soon. You were delicious and he was drinking in your noises like a drug, getting high off his lust and your taste. He hummed and groaned against your pussy, his cock pulsing so bad it practically hurt, almost cumming in his pants just from this.

“Sam– Oh God, please, please, plea–se” You cried out, the pleasure almost too much, the foreplay making you sensitive to a level you felt everything ten times harder. Sam knew exactly what he did to you, it was like he edged you consciously, knowing you’d beg for him louder once he finally got to touching you. And damn him because it worked, you were a moaning mess and he would be lying if it didn’t stroke his ego to hear you plead for him, submitting to his ministrations so quickly, it was adorable.

He was eating you out with everything he had, digging his nails on your skin. You were soon close to the edge, tightening your thighs around his head so he would not pull away. Everything around you consisted only of him, his scent, his noises, his body, him. It was overwhelming and, with a loud cry of his name, you came, hard.

The room went out of focus, your eyes rolling back in pure pleasure. You had trapped Sam’s head between your legs and he hadn’t stopped. He kept licking you clean, completely lost in your pussy. He could stay like that forever, until his jaw went sore, just so that he could hear you over and over again while he’s nose deep into your cunt. He only comes back to the real world – the one that doesn’t consist in an infinite loop of your voice moaning his name – when you pull at his hair and your thighs open space to let him get up.

“T’much Sammy'' You say, breathless. You bring him up from your cunt, and look at his face, glistening with your juices, a giddy smile on his lips – like a kid who just got a truckload of candy dumped at their house – and cheeks red from the heat. You smile back at him and giggle. Who would’ve thought that he would make you cry for him to touch you and, minutes later, you’d be laughing at his mischievous grin from making you cum.

You brought him back up with a hand behind his neck and he gladly crawled on the bed until he was face to face with you again, his hands supporting his upper body so he wouldn’t crush you. You looked at him for a few seconds, a look that you intended to fill with love and care and he reciprocated, his head angling 45° with a gentle smile that made him look absolutely adorable. You put a strand of his hair behind his ear, which proved useless as it fell right back to curtain his face, his hair being too straight and too soft to hold up like that. You chuckled lightly and pulled him in for a kiss.

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the saltiness making you hum in his mouth. The kiss grew heated fast and you started to roam your hands over his chest, his muscles tensing under your light palms. You explored his body as much as he did to yours, caressing over every visible muscle he had – which, honestly, was a lot. When you got to his abs, Sam broke the kiss to let out a shaky breath. He gently grabbed your wrists and kneeled on the bed, his body now in its full glory above you, the lightning in the room making his body even more defined.

With your wrists in his hand, Sam dragged your palms, that were flattened against his skin, lower. And lower. Until you were touching the hem of his pants that he still, incredibly, had on. You stared at the bulge he had right below, swallowing thickly and letting out a deep breath, your cunt clenching in response. He looked big. You should have an idea, Sam was 6’4, of course it would be proportional to his height but God if it didn’t make you think about swallowing him down, the tip hitting the back of your throat, tears welling up in your eyes as he fucked your face.

“Want me to take them off?” You hear his voice, snapping you out of your fantasies. You looked up at him and down again. You hooked your fingers in the waistband and, on cue, Sam let go of your wrists. You slowly brought his pants and underwear down at the same time, too eager to keep up the foreplay and too desperate to tease.

When you finally see it, an audible groan reverbates in the back of your throat. Sam moans lowly, the pain from the constriction caused by his boxers and pants finally going away and making him even more aware of the neglect his dick got up til now. He watches your reaction carefully and, one of the first things you do is throw your legs back, standing on your knees, one hand supporting your body as the other stops midway to his dick. Sam felt his whole body burn with need. God what did he do to deserve you.

You were on all fours in front of him, head inches from his cock, eyes now looking up at him with a question. You felt like if you opened your mouth you would drool, you needed him inside it and you were silently asking him if it was okay.

Sam angled his torso to bring his face closer to yours, grabbing your chin with his hand and giving you a firm peck on the lips. “Do it, beautiful” He whispered against your mouth and straightened up again and you confirmed with a nod before wrapping your hand around his dick.

Sam breathed out when you started to pump him, your hand doing light movements. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of your name, a silent plea and you gladly listened. You wrapped your mouth around the tip, just the tip for now, and circled your tongue around it, the salty taste of precum invading your mouth. Sam’s hand instantly flew to your head, encouraging you to take him deeper, but not forcing you. Still, you started to relax your throat and took as much of him as you could, hollowing your cheeks.

“Y/N, baby, Jesus” Sam sighed and your insides tingled. You took what you couldn’t take in your mouth with your hand, squeezing and pumping using your spit as lube. You could feel Sam holding back, his hips stuttering every now and again. You braced yourself, deciding to give him more, and placed your hands on his thighs, tapping it twice with your index finger. Sam looked down at you, swallowing his breathy groans. He damn near came just by looking at you, those beautiful eyes staring up at him, your mouth wrapped around his dick. He concentrated, remembering the silent message you sent him.

“I don’t want to hurt you” He said and you did your best to shake your head no in your conditions. You won’t. And emphasized it by squeezing his thighs and pushing your head forward. Sam sighed and nodded. “Okay, but if it’s too much, tap three times, get it doll?” He asked. The nickname made you shiver, his voice sounding so sweet calling you that. Brushing it off you tapped his thigh three times, just for him to know you understood what he said. 

Sam started to rock his hips back and forth slowly, using your mouth for his pleasure. All you did was relax your throat as much as you could and breathe through your nose. He started to quicken up within time, losing his control as his release came closer. He was grunting and moaning and all his noises went straight to your pussy. He let out sighs of your name, his head thrown back and his neck glistening with sweat, his Adam's apple bobbing everytime he swallowed.

Too enamored by his noises, you lost focus and gagged on his cock, tears stinging your eyes. Sam loudly moaned your name at that, hips faltering as he tugged at your head to take your mouth off his cock. His breathing was heavy and his mouth was dry and he stood face to face with you to kiss your lips again, moaning inside your mouth. You were a bit disappointed that he hadn’t cum but you swallowed his whines gladly with your mouth, clasping your hands on each one of his cheeks. He pulled away and caressed a thumb over your lips.

“What have you got in that mouth of yours sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk and you bit your lip.

“Says the one who was eating me out like a starved man” You replied, wrapping one arm around his neck as your index finger traced his lips before giving them a peck, smiling once you pulled away. He smiled at you before wrapping his arms around your waist, like he would in a hug, and throwing you back. You shrieked as you landed on your back and Sam laid practically on top of you, attacking your face with tiny kisses, making you laugh under him.

Once he stopped, he just stared down at you. “Hi” He said.

“Hi” You whispered back after your laugh died down.

“Did I already tell you you’re beautiful?”

“Once…twice”

“You’re beautiful” He said, again “I’ll never stop telling you that”

“I can deal with it” You teased and he chuckled, going right back to kissing you.

Sam was one of a kind. You had taken some time to truly understand why you had fallen in love with him in the first place but there was not just one thing that made Sam Winchester special, everything he did just added up. From the huge things to the tiny details, he just was so easy to fall in love with and these moments were definitely one of those in the list, in which, no matter the situation, good or bad, Sam could make you smile.

As he kissed you now, his hands roamed your body like he had done before until two of his fingers teased at your entrance and you rolled your hips against his hand. Blowing him had made you aroused again and you could feel your wetness coating his fingers. Sam smirked in your mouth before slowly inserting his middle and ring finger inside your wetness. Your mouth left his to let out a moan, your foreheads glued.

Sam opened his eyes to watch your expression as he hooked his fingers inside you. You whined, your eyebrows furrowed and your nails left angry red trails over his shoulders. He lowered his head to kiss your neck open mouthed. He started to scissor his fingers inside you, preparing for what you knew was coming and you gladly relaxed around his fingers, grinding your cunt on his digits.

“Sweetheart, I need to be inside you, I need you” He whispered in your ear and you whined at the thought, nodding in approval.

“Yes, Sammy, please” You breathlessly said. Sam took his fingers out from your hole and you held back a complaint from the emptiness once you saw him pumping his hardened cock with the hand he used his fingers to prepare you, lubricating himself with your juices. He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you again.

He wanted to watch you as he sunk himself into your heat and that’s what he did. He slowly started to enter you and your mouth opened in a silent moan at the stretch. He was filling you up deliciously well, right in the division between pain and pleasure and, the deeper he went, the harder your nails dug on his shoulders.

Sam was also struggling. Your tightness enveloped him in a way no one had ever done before and it felt so fucking good to bury himself inside you. He started to distract you from the possible painful stretch with kisses over your collarbones and neck, focusing on relaxing your body so he could make love to you properly.

At last, you felt his pelvis connect with yours and you were so amazingly full. His dick hit places inside you you could never reach alone and it felt incredible. 

Once you were used to his size and craving more, you rolled your hips against his, making Sam suck in a breath. He was trying to keep his composure but he was holding on his last ounces of control and when you moved he damn nearly lost it.

“You can move” You whisper and Sam wastes no time fulfilling your request, immediately starting to pump into you. He was euphoric, his mind was blurry as only images of you naked under him and begging for him to fuck you went through his head. You would tighten your walls around him from time to time and that would cause his breathing to falter and his hips to stutter.

You weren’t much different, every buck of his hips would hit you in a spot that made you see starts. You were already overstimulated from his previous ministrations so you knew you weren’t going to last long and, from the way Sam was twitching inside you, you knew he wasn’t going to either.

“Sam, I’m s’close” You moaned close to his ear.

“Me too, baby” He said as he brought his hand to press over your lower belly. You nearly screamed as he did that, you could feel him even better, his shape feeling like it was being permanently molded inside you. Along with it, he reached a thumb to rub over your clit – his big hands be damned – and at that you finally went over the edge with a desperate cry of his name. 

Your vision blurred as the only thing you knew was real was the feeling of emptiness since Sam was chasing his own release after leaving your warmth. He pumped his cock a few times and proceeded to cum over your belly, painting your skin with his liquids. You were spread out on the bed for a while longer after that, Sam panting above you, his softening dick still in his hand and you completely fucked out with a lazy smile on your face.

Once that high passed, Sam took you to the bathroom – bridal style – and cleaned you up in the bathtub with warm water and gave you the privacy you needed after he sorted himself out too, leaving the bathroom on his boxers.

You took your time, using the toilet so as to not get any infections and leaving the bathroom completely naked, too lazy to actually put clothes on. You just wanted to sleep beside Sam and wake up happy in his arms.

He saw you coming out of the room and smiled, eyeing you up and down.

“No clothes?” He asked

“Unless you’re uncomfortable, I think we’re past that” You joked and he shook his head.

“I don’t mind, come here” He said, opening an arm to invite you to lay over his chest and you gladly did, jumping on the bed and wrapping your arms around his torso, laying your head on his firm chest. Sam covered both of you with the white sheets, hiding your exposed body under them. You laid silent for a moment, just drowning in each other's company as you listened to his steady heartbeat.

Sam caressed your upper arm, his mind running with a thousand thoughts in which a thousand and one consisted of you. 

“Hey, want to know something?” Sam asked. He was taking advantage of the situation because now he was confident enough to do so, and he wasn’t delaying this any further if his mind would allow him. You lazily looked up at him, your chin now resting on him. Your eyes stared at him with so much appreciation that he felt even more encouraged to tell you what he wanted to.

“I think I love you” He blurted out. You felt your face warm up and smiled widely, but didn’t lose the opportunity to tease him for his choice of words.

“You think?” You raised an eyebrow. Sam panicked inside.

“No, I mean that–”

“I think I love you too” You interrupted before he could say anything else, your giddy smile never faltering. Sam relaxed and pulled you in for a kiss to seal this promise.

Who would’ve thought that Sam would have his dream come true at the end of everything. Yet, here you were, half-asleep in his arms after you admitted your love for each other.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading. XoXo

[latenightdaydreams]

Eldritch!König X Princess! Reader

The reader is a stubborn princess with a childish personality, she is considered a treasure by the king, loved and pampered, however because she was imprisoned in the castle for too long and learned too many royal rules and rituals, she decided to escape to leave the castle and on her journey of discovery, she accidentally strayed into the forbidden sea of the kingdom... if you don't mind, there is rape

thank you for doing my previous requests,i always follow your posts everyday,i love the way you write your fanfics,by the way,can you post your fanfics at 6am or 6pm?the time hook in asia and other continents are different,so it will be difficult to adjust the time to receive your post notifications,thanks!!!🥰😍🫂🤲😗😙

Of course! I've been trying to post later after reading this and I appreciate your recommendation!

Eldritch!König x Princess (fem)

MDNI🔞

🚫!Trigger Warning!🚫

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, creature, tentacles, non-con, virginity loss

1.6k word count

👸

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Being the eldest daughter to the King means a lot of responsibilities are placed on your shoulders, one day this will all be yours. The sad thing is that you want none of it. You’d love to be free, like the children in the town outside the castle walls.

Every day is consumed with boring lessons and practice. While your body may be here, your mind wanders often to what lies beyond your gilded cage. The King is a kind but overprotective man. He tells you continuously about a scary world filled with evil, yet all you can find is magic in the stories you’re told.

Today is like every other day. While sitting at the piano, you mindlessly press on keys as you stare out the open windows. It is a beautiful and bright day; the sound of the birds carrying through the light breeze makes you crave only a moment outside. You smash your hands down on the keys with annoyance. It’s as if the world is teasing you.

The staff around looks at your out the corner of their eyes, rolling them. You often act out as if you’re a child, yet you’re in your twenties already. What more should they expect from such a spoiled brat? They fear the day your queen; you’re nowhere near ready for that type of responsibilities.

Lucky for them, they won’t have to worry about that. You don’t plan on being here for much longer. Over the last few months, you’ve been putting together an escape plan. Armed with the knowledge of lore spoken and countless hours of studying; you’re ready to make a new path for yourself. The thought of being a Queen has never appealed to you, you’ve always dreamed of living like a daring adventurer. Someone not bound to the confines of their overbearing parents.

You wander down into the kitchen to see a room of busy bee workers preparing dinner. Some look at you, but choose to ignore you as to not get wrapped up into any of your wild antics. Walking over to a bowls of freshly picked blueberries, you grab a handful and twirls innocently towards the door. As you scan the room, you notice that no one is looking at you. Perfect.

The door opens with a bit of weight applied. You quickly slip out the door without anyone noticing. The kitchen faces the woods; with only a bag with money and some food you begin your new journey.

Your feet carry you eagerly through the brush and into the woods; your escape is almost too easy. For a moment you turn to look at the castle for one last time, letting yourself commit the view to memory. You don’t know when you’ll be back again and it’s bitter sweet. Once you feel as if you’re ready to move on, you turn with no intentions of running back a scared little girl.

Hours of walking tire you quickly. You never figured that the ground might be difficult to walk on, meaning you haven’t made it as far as you planned to before sun down. Off in the distance you can hear the sound of waves crashing, piquing your interest. All these years and you’ve never seen the ocean before, it’s always been a dream.

The sun setting causes a stunning golden hue to cover the water, making it feel as if you’ve just stumbled into heaven on earth. You quickly remove your shoes, eager to feel the sand between your toes. As you rush forward, the warm sand is relaxing. The small worry that lingered in the back of your mind is completely forgotten as you become entranced by the crashing waves.

You approach the shore line allowing the cool water to wash over your feet. It’s such a welcoming feeling, it’s impossible to believe that your father said this world is evil. How can it be evil when such beauty exists? You sit, your dress gets wet but you don’t care. Minutes pass as the sun continues to set. Out of the corner of your eye, you see something poke out of the water.

König sees you; you’re new. His eyes drift over the royal purple dress that you’re wearing. A princess? In this part of the world? How did you ever get here? Either way, he wasn’t going to complain. It’s as if the universe just hand delivered a new toy to him. He watches you curiously as you simply…enjoy the view.

You lay back, closing your eyes with a big smile on your face. Day one of freedom and you’re already confident that you’ve made the right decision. Then, you feel the presence of something- someone- approaching you. When you open your eyes, you see a large man looking down at you. His eyes a pale blue, body nude other than a piece of fabric covering his face. From underneath the fabric, eight large purple toned tentacles move about.

There is a moment of just staring at him with a slack jaw. He’s a massive eight feet tall, making the way he looms over your much smaller body that much more intimidating. You watch as his eyes trail over your dress; he somehow makes you feel exposed while fully clothed.

“Hello…” You speak in a timid tone.

“Hallo…Prinzessin.” His voice is low and gravely.

“Y- you know who I am?”

“Ja. You’re Princess y/n.” He begins to walk around you, inspecting you.

“I am…who are you?”

“König. You’ve wandered into my kingdom, Prinzessin. Did you know that?” He kneels and looks into your eyes as you sit up, feeling uncomfortable with him. “People don’t usually come here.”

“Why?” Your voice shakes slightly.

“Because of me.”

For a moment you linger, staring up at him. Your stomach churns and you feel sick. He smells of the ocean and it’s very unpleasant. The alarm going off in your line is telling you to get up and run; that you’re in danger. You decide to try and just push that feeling down.

“Wh- why is that?”

König can smell the fear emanating off of you. A small band of sweat forms around your hairline from the warm day and the heavy dress overheating your body. A small drop drips down the side of your face, traveling over your delicate features.

“You’re wearing far too many layers.” One of his thick tentacles slowly wraps around your ankle, slipping up underneath the hem of your long dress.

That is what triggers panic within you. You quickly jump up, but his tentacle tightens its grip and pulls you back down. Your face smashes into the sand, cutting your lip from the impact. The sand slips through your fingers as you grab at it, trying to get away.

König grabs your arms and turns you around, laying you on your back. As you sit up to hit him, he grabs your arms and slams you back down. A loud laugh leaves him, he wasn’t expecting such a delicate little thing to be so feisty.

“Where do you think you’re off to? You’re in my world now, Prinzessin.”

“Get off of me!” You scream.

“I’ve been looking for a queen. A warm body for my offspring to grow in.”

König’s slimy tentacles come up and wrap around your wrist, pinning you to the ground as you squirm. His massive weight rests on your legs as he begins to slip the fabric that covers you up, exposing a sweet little bush covering your precious center. A low hum rumbles from his chest as his pale eyes meet yours.

The stomach churning feeling of his appendages slithering up your leg makes you jerk to the side but you can’t move. König is much bigger and much stronger than you; it would be a useless waste of energy. You can feel the tip slip back and forth, parting your folds.

“You can’t do this to me! I’m the princess!”

“You’re no one here.”

König shuts you up with a hand over your mouth as his tentacles move to hold you down and your legs apart for him. Tears stream down your face as you realize that no matter how much you scream, there is no one here that can help you. His unsettling gaze lingers on yours as he moves his erection closer to you.

Your muffled cries are drowned out but the loud sound of König’s moan as he presses the tip of his leaking cock against your pure cunt. A virgin princess, exactly what the king deserves. A stinging pain travels throughout your body as he struggles to press his girthy 13 inch cock into you.  

“Mein Gott, you’re so small. I’m going to break you.” He chuckles as his hips buck forward.

The walls of your vagina feel gummy as they wrap tightly around him. You’re like the perfect little glove, little sex toy for him. He pulls his hips back and repeatedly continues the assault on your defenseless smaller body. Unable to do anything, you just lie there and take it.

“Does daddy know where you are?” He mocks in a low gruff voice as he thrust at a merciless speed, not allowing you to catch your breath.

“M-mm” You mumble and shake your head, his hands still on your mouth not allowing you to speak.

“Stupid…little…brat.” König manages the words between each thrust. His hands move to your legs, pulling them back so he can angle himself deeper into you, trying to shove more of himself into you. Your pained pathetic mewls boom out across the empty beach.

Back at the castle there is panic after hours without any sight of you. Your father went to your room to see a note placed on your bed. In a hurry he reads it, tears streaming down his face as he reads your final goodbye to him. He is torn between sending every knight to find you and just leaving you to be the woman you’ve dreamt of becoming. Little does he know you’ve only doomed yourself to the life of being bred.

[0bticeo]

lurk | feyd-rautha

part one of five. (part 2.) (part 3.) (part 4.)

summary:

feyd-rautha. 

there he is, strong arms spread wide, dual blades stained black, basking in the glorious aftermath of combat. at his feet, atreides soldiers. dead.

you unsheathe your blade, the dull metal grinding against its sheath.

it is kill or be killed, and you intend to live.

wc: 2k

tw: blood. death. non graphic description of gore (this is a gladiator fight). mentions of eugenics. fighting as foreplay. reader may or may not have a blood kink. knife kink??? reader is more refined than feyd but don't let it fool you she's a freak. uuuh hubris? probable inaccurate handling of dune lore, esp with the voice (forgive me for the creative liberty of assuming the mother of the kwisatz haderach should be a freak. as a treat.)

many, many years ago, the sisterhood deems you ready for the gom jabbar. you enter the room, your mother a looming shadow, hands folded in her sleeves, head bowed before a long figure cloaked in shadows.

it doesn’t sit right with you, this intrusion in your mother’s parlor. how dare that old witch make a servant out of your mother in her own house?

“kneel.”

you do. you fall to your knees. before you, a phalto green box. in it, pain. at your neck, the gom jabbar, its deadly poison whispering into your ear.

it tells you about sweet, sweet little death. it tells you the reverend mother will not put your life in danger. not when you’re the culmination of nineteen generations of careful planning.

you are to be married to a harkonnen and bear the kwisatz haderach.

so you raise your head and put your hand in the box, eyes boring into the old crone’s. you see something flash in her depthless eyes. you think of the calm before mother-storms, the stillness of the air before pounding rain. 

it’s rage.

pain shoots through your hand. fire that burns and charrs and eats away at your flesh, consuming one layer of skin after another until you’re sure it reaches the bone below. you almost scream. instead, you bite your lip until metal-blood stains your tongue. 

you will endure this pain. you will not let fear consume you — you have nothing to fear, you shall not die, not here. fear is the mind killer. pain is the mind killer. you will let it wash over you and face the eons of bene gesserit knowledge standing before you.

through gritted teeth, you ask:

“am i human enough, oh wise one?”

you were. otherwise you wouldn’t be here, years later, rotting in a harkonnen cell. 

(there are things that have been kept a secret from you. you have been raised following your mother’s footsteps in the weirding way. the reverend mother denied you a place under her tutelage with harsh words and a harsher look. you’ve caught wind of her thoughts in shimmering fragments of dreams — what has jessica done?)

it will matter, in the end, that your mother decided to give your father a son. already, you’ve seen it, behind the web of your eyelids, the lone silhouette of your brother, blood of your blood, rising, rising.

he will gather them, the fremen, from the burning sands of arrakis, and rise, blade glinting under scorching sun. lisan al gaib, they already call him, hushed whispers lost in the shifting sands of dunes. 

your hand falls to your womb, empty still. 

they were scared, the bene gesserit. the atreides line was growing too powerful, too fast. you — the promised daughter, skilled in the way, with tongue and mind sharper than your blade — are to be bred and deliver the one.

but in came paul — beloved little mouse of a younger brother. too smart, too observant, too skilled, too much. your mother’s defiance, your mother’s love for your father led her to commit the unthinkable and defy the order.

it retaliated.

you’ve been betrayed. that, you’ve seen coming. so did your father. so did your mother. even your brother felt it, in his very bones, the low thrum of wrongness. something was bound to happen. something was bound to shake you to your very core. 

something happened.

the harkonnens came. house atreides fell. you can still smell it, the stench of death, the bloodied sands beneath your feet as you struck and struck.

all must die, and so they did.

you feel it still, the blood coating your hands, your forearms, dripping from your blade, the old scar on your forearm burning righteous fury. 

they caught you, in the end. you, who willingly put a target on your back, allowing your brother and mother’s quiet escape. you, beaten down, bloodied. grinning, voice warping the harkonnen rats’ perception.

“you will not see me as i am.”

the atreides have been set up. offering arrakis has been nothing but a convenient way for the emperor to get rid of your bloodline.

you scoff; in the quiet depths of your cell, your fingers dig crescent moons in your palms.

you’ve been taught to read behind veils upon veils of lies. the truthsayer suggested the eradication of your house. painted you a threat.

being able to breed the kwisatz haderach won’t protect you.

so here you are, eldest daughter of duke leto atreides and lady jessica, older sister to paul atreides. here you are, sitting with your back pressed up against the wall. cold seeps into your marrow, reaching bone. rage simmers low in your gut. you quell it. nurse it until it becomes a living beast eager to feast.

you will need it.

your body fails you. your sight is blurry, your hands tremble. they should not. duncan would have hit the back of your head had he been there. he isn’t. (dead.) breathe in. breathe out. focus what’s left of your attention on the too small bowl of food that’s been given to you, on the glass of water. empty, both of them. 

poison isn’t a problem — not with your training, not with the constant shifting and turning of lethal molecules within you. there. prana bindu — precise alteration of the body’s vitals. you will bear your condition for a time, weakened, but alive.

you clench your fist and slam it against the wall. pain surges through you, burning through your joint. good. if fear is the mind killer, pain clears the fog clogging your brain.

here goes: you’re rotting in the cell of your hereditary enemy, malnourished and poisoned. you’ve heard the guards, their off handed comments when they thought you too drugged to understand. your cell is below an arena. you will need to fight. perhaps, they’ll pit you against your men. the atreides house, dying by its own hand. fitting. 

you’re neck-deep in trouble.

the door slides open. two guards come in, all dressed in black. harkonnens. harkonnens everywhere, and you cannot do a damned thing as they pull you up, pushing you out of your cell. they’re laughing. those bastards are laughing.

one less atreides scum in the known universe — good riddance!

you will tear into them and rip out their spine with your teeth.

they drag you in a maze of hallways, each darker than the last. you’re ascending, a catabasis of twists and turns and sliding doors. there’s a low thrum in your gut. louder and louder with each step is a pulse. a chant. a name. 

the guards press a blade in your hand and push you forward.

the door slides up. shadows part. you blink with a low hiss. light pours down on you, all-consuming, blinding. sands stretch before you, unnaturally white.

the arena.

thousands upon thousands of people gaze down at you. the voice surges forward, eons of your foremother speaking through you.

“you will not perceive me as i am.”

something trickles down your nose. blood. you’ve overdone it. the voice isn’t meant to be used against that many people, not for long.

you wipe it off.

it will have to hold for the time of this fight. the harkonnen won’t rest until the atreides are completely and utterly wiped out. deceit is your only chance at survival.

the thought makes your blood boil. 

good thing the crowd is screaming for it. they're all screaming for it. a pulse. a chant. a name.

feyd-rautha. 

there he is, strong arms spread wide, dual blades stained black, basking in the glorious aftermath of combat. at his feet, atreides soldiers. dead.

you unsheathe your blade, the dull metal grinding against its sheath.

the noise alone has him turning towards you, head tilting to the side. he’s assessing you, na-baron feyd-rautha harkonnen. he glances up. for a split second, you follow his gaze. above, looking down upon you, is baron vladimir harkonnen, gargantuan mass of flesh.

you want him to collapse. to watch as his bones break under the weight of monstrous grease. you make out the movement of his lips.

happy birthday, nephew.

he’s on you before you can react. your blade raises. steel meets steel. you clench your teeth. his strength surpasses yours. you won’t yield, not to him. but by god is the bastard strong. you’ve got your hands full with just parrying his blows, the force of them echoing in your very bones. your feet slide on the sand below. any more and you’ll lose your footing.

his blades meet yours, again and again, their serrated edge slicing the corrupt air of the arena. they slice through you, too. a vicious cut on your bare forearm has you reeling back, your blade and sheath raising to parry.

this is bad. there’s only so much you can deal with in your decrepit state. fighting to survive isn’t an option — you must kill or be killed.

.

.

.

you draw in a sharp breath.  

watchful eyes bore down upon you. bene gesserit. the reverend mother herself has come to geidi prime.

something at your side — you let your guard down. there’s a flash, a metallic clang. feyd-rautha gazes down upon you, apex predator with your death written in the greedy sands of the arena. here, you’re precious prey. 

rage grips you by the throat and has you baring your teeth.

there you are, blades intertwined with harkonnen scum, a breath away from his lips. they part in a slow, assessing grin. you feel more than you see his appraising gaze raking over you. you, unyielding, matching him blow for blow, blood drip drip dripping down. under the black sun of geidi prime, it, too, has turned a velvety black.

from above your crossed blades, you raise your head and meet his eyes — twin pools of dark, abysses made to consume you whole. time slows down. you want to drown in the marrow of him and feel the warmth of his flesh beneath yours, lost in rapturous agony. something settles in your gut, low and warm.

you call it fury.

you pivot out of the way and nick him, a thin cut splitting open the skin of his cheek. he laughs. slashes at you with deathly precision. you duck, squatting down, leg springing forth, slamming at the back of his knee. he falls. catches you by the ankle and drags you to him.

you snarl. 

“let go.”

how utterly pathetic of you. his grip falters. you hear his blades fall to the ground. you twist, pivot until you’re straddling him, blade pressed against his throat.

there you have it. internal carotid, right below the sculpted edge of his jaw. five minutes until death. five minutes, with his lifeblood coating your hands, soaking your robes, sinking down to your skin beneath.

your hand cramps on the handle of your weapon, in a mockery of rigor mortis. nervous impulse. the tip of the blade pierces tender flesh, drawing a droplet of blood. you follow its path down the column of his flesh, until it reaches the edge of his collarbone.

his hands surges forward, seizing your forearm in a vice grip, yanking you towards him. you feel his breath on your lips with his next words.

“do it.”

his voice sends a shiver down your spine. low, gravelly, it calls for blood. if you don’t spill his, yours will be drawn. yet, you do not move, eyes riveted to his face, to the vicious impatience carved in his features. if you kill him, you’ll be hunted and put down like a dog. 

he shifts under you, the nervous twitch of a beast untamed. even through the hard edges of his ritual armor, you can feel the raw power of him.

you feel his thumb trace the edge of an old scar, up, up your forearm, a flash of black teeth and then— 

pain.

there’s something in your side, serrated, razor-sharp, twisting. your hand raises to your side. warmth trickles down your fingers. his hand wraps over yours, warm, blood a silky black against the porcelain of his skin.

he watches you, twisting the blade until yours fall to the ground, bloodied hand coming up to your cheek. you lean into it. welcome him, as his thumb smears blood across the edge of your parted lips.

“you fought well, atreides.” 

he pulls out the blade.

you fall.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[no1deepspacehater]

NSFW ABC's - Xavier !

A/N: Zayne is up next for this one! Minors look away ofc! Also some minor spoilers in letters E and K

Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mostly, he’s so ready to sleep, but if that doesn’t fit your needs, he stays up for you. Need a shower? He’ll help you wash up. Something to eat? He’s not the best cook but cereal after sex always hits the spot anyways.

His most preferred aftercare is after a cold shower, you both just cuddle each other to sleep. You’re his favourite teddy bear to hold.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him, his arms. Strong and buff from years, and I mean years, of sword practicing. Upper body strength of the Gods, perfect for holding you up with he fucks you against the wall, or just caging you in while you ride him. Grip his arms in any position and he’s beaming.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Moderate amount when he cums BUT he leaks. One stroke and his dick is wet. Prefers to cum inside/with a condom just because it gets sticky and messy, but is SO more than down if you want him to cum anywhere else.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

While masturbating has accidentally came on one of the plushies you gave him. He fell asleep right after and it left a stain he couldn’t wash out. Said plushie is now hidden away where you’ll never find it, and when you ask him about it he always says he lost it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

SPOILERS FOR HIS LORE!

Ok so here’s my headcanons, he’s either:

Has NEVER had sex because, well, he only wants you. Probably doesn’t watch porn for the same reason. Most knowledge he’s have is conversations with close friends but no hands on work.

HAS had sex before, but with previous lifetimes/timelines of you. Kinda more fun to work with this one because, he’d know all your sensitive spots, even ones you don’t know about. He’d now just how to rile you up and have you seeing literal stars.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

When he has energy or is in that type of mood: variations of missionary, I feel like he’d be into wall sex.

Other than that, as long as your on top of him and he could see your face, he’s happy. Sometimes he’ll let you do your thing while he’s being a little pillow princess, othertimes he’s the one in absolute control even though you’re above him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Always light giggles here and there because you both are being so cute. Sometimes though he’s not serious but he gets in this focused/locked in type of mode when you both are having particularly passionate sex.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

HEAR ME OUT HERE!! Rarely clean shaven just because he’d literally rather sleep. It’s not a jungle, but definitely had to start keeping it lower when you both do start to get intimate. I’d say once a week at least, once every two weeks at least. Now listen closely, he’s got a happy trail, nobody argue with me. His hair down there is a bit darker/browner than his actual hair, but it’s still pretty light that if you look too fast you’ll miss it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s a sappy little alien boy. Always showering you with praises so most of the time you’re a smiling blushing mess, which makes him smile as well. Even when he’s being dominant he’s calling you cute little pet names, anddd he’s got that smug little snark that’s just waiting for you to challenge him so he could show you who really is the most powerful here.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t really do it much because sleep >> anything else. When he does have to release some pent up energy he generally just does it to get it out of the way and falls back asleep. Sometimes falls asleep dick in hand mid stroke.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I feel like he would be into roleplay. It’d take him a while to bring it up, but once he does it kinda helps him to actually express his emotions more in a way? But having you dress up as different things turns him on as well (the maid outfit is not surviving the night).

Also hear me out on this I feel like he’d have a pregnancy kink. (SPOILER: Something about you both living long enough to have a family) You’d just look sexy with a belly to him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His or your place, where you can really let go. As for specifics:

The bed, the kitchen counter, the bathroom, the couch, to the windowww to the wall. As long as your both comfortable, he’s so down to screw you anywhere.

But thats not to say you both haven’t gotten... freakaayyy in the staff room closet at work once or twice... or five times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Though he can just hear your name and he’s turned on, he particularly likes when you sass him back or give a little attitude. It’s like a declaration of sexual war between you two and he’s adamant that he wins.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Won’t bruise you too hard or hurt you in a serious way (like blood and stuff). He can’t, he just can’t. Hard choking as well is uncomfortable for him.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lives for eating you out/giving head. Even if he’s too tired for penetration he’s got more than enough energy for you to sit on his face and just let him go wild. Or literally he’ll get on his knees and just keep going harder everytime you tug his hair when he’s hitting a sweet spot. Will literally overstimulate you every time because he’s just having so much fun.

As for receiving, he doesn’t ask for it much but would neverrr decline. He twitches so much and constantly has to hold himself back from bucking his hips up and shoving his dick down your throat. Hearing you swallow all of his cum makes him literally orgasm a second time.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast, no, rarely. Slow, sensual, rough in an almost primal like way but still soft? Yes! He needs to feel every bit of you, and make sure you’re feeling every bit of him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Appreciative of a good quickie. Though he’s more qeen on having ample time to do with you what he wants, there has been situations where he’s had to pull you to an empty room and set a new world record for the both of you. Sometimes the both of you are at home doing the nasty when you get called to a mission, and then suddenly it’s a race for time lol.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

If it’s for you, he’ll try anything (within reason). He is a risk taker as well, because really to him it’s not a risk if he’s going to succeed anyway. Just has to make sure he’s thought of every outcome and weighed out the pros vs cons, which he can decide very quickly when you’re looking at him like that.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on how much time between the rounds. After round one, let him take a quick nap and he’s back on it like white on rice. Anything more than that will require a full day of sleeping with cuddles with you.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like personally he never bothered with toys, but would not be opposed to use one on you. It’s like having another way to satisfy you (and tease you endlessly). He likes to feel your touch rather than a toy but he’s okay with anything you want mostly.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s such a switch, honestly. One day he’s begging for you and the next he’s making YOU beg until you literally can’t handle it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man is a moaner and whimperer. He tries to hold it back mostly so it’s a lot of hot whimpering and mumbling at first but keep riling him up he’ll get louder. Says your name like a prayer always.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

 Turns your plushies around before you guys have sex, all of them. He says he doesn’t want to taint their innocence.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick in diameter, average sized in length. Definitely a shower but it’s pretty like him in every way anyway. Has one (1) prominent vein that hits just right. Colour just slightly darker than his skin colour (he’s pretty pale so) but tip is a light pink (#E6C5AD, if you will). Turns more red as he’s about to cum/is stroking or whatever. Yes I have thought a lot about this.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Having to wait lifetimes for your lover can leave you pretty wanting at times. That being said Xavier doesn’t really indulge in himself too often, and he’s quite the sleeper so in general it’s pretty low. But it can lead to some fun times where he’s just teasing you forever.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like a LIGHT. After proper aftercare he is ready for the nap of his life.

[seelie-buddy]

Hello, i hope you're having a good day...

Can i request genshin impact character (hybrid) like gorou, tighnari to do something like 'animal' instinctly.

If you add another character it's okay too...

Peculiar Traits

summary : some interesting characteristics of Tighnari, Gorou, and Ganyu that highlight their wondrous heritage

contains : just the characters using their unique traits to keep you away from harm's way ; fluff ; gn!reader, this drabble is written in second person

word count : 500

It's etched into Gorou to protect those he cherishes, being the general of Watatsumi's army. So when matters relate to you, of course he's going all out to ensure your well-being! His gut feeling is almost always accurate, and he does everything in his power to keep you away from harm's way.

If you're going some place dangerous, he will see to it that someone escorts you, or would himself accompany you on your trip. If there's any trouble that plagues you, just say the word, and he'll be ready to help.

If you were hanging out with some person Gorou didn't have a good feeling about, turns out they did actually have foul motives. And when things go south during expeditions, you know that Gorou will be there to watch your back.

Things like these brings you to fully trust the general, and you've learned to always keep in mind his warnings.

Tighnari is one to be cautious, and his sensitivity to sound and smell only helps him ensure your safety. He will be especially sure to keep an ear out for any potential threats everytime you accompany him on his patrols.

The forest may feel homey to those who have resided in the rainforest for a while, but it doesn't mean that it is without its dangers; the remnants of the withering, wildlife, and monsters need to be accounted for.

But with Tighnari by your side, you needn't worry! You can always put your utmost trust in him, and his understanding of the environment; the way he recognises danger from the sounds often unheard by others, and his knowledge regarding both the flora and fauna are unparalleled.

Any disturbances in an immediate proximity never goes unnoticed by him, and his reactions to said disturbances are swift; the lack of birds chirping has him alerted at the presence of a predator. Or when the polluted stench is in the air, he is quick to steer you away from the upcoming withering zone.

Ganyu is half-qilin, half-human.

She's calm, and reserved by nature; that's what being half-qilin grants her. Her sereneness is just like the soft flurry of snow in winter, or like the cool breeze on a summer day. She's always willing to lend you a hand, assist you in all manners possible, and merely her presence is all you need to relax as a smile grows in your face.

She is half-qilin, and it reflects in her traits.

Ganyu is half human; it shows in those moments of impulsivity. If someone dare speak ill of those she respects and cherishes– especially you– and they may as well be prepared for her (albeit supple) wrath. She will see to it that they will apologise and refuse to spout such nonsense again. It is in moments like these that you see that she does, in fact, possess emotions and feelings beyond that of tranquillity.

Ganyu is half-human, and it reflects in her traits.

a/n : I hope this was what you were looking for, anon!! No, seriously, I really hope I didn't misunderstand what you were asking for;;

p/s : A little ramble about my thoughts on this:

I didn't really come by the opportunity to write for Ganyu, and I believe she's underrated!

As for Gorou, he resembles the dog breed shiba inu, and apparently dogs (or just animals in general) have a very good sense of danger, whether it be people or things!

I've seen a lot of people relate Tighnari to fennec foxes (because of the ears) but his lore states him to be a descendant of Valuka Shuna (also called Tighnarians) so it's hard to place any specific traits on his species, given he's the only one we know of his kind

[infernally-fond]

Orb of Infernal Envisioning - Unused Lines

I hadn't seen this mentioned prior - but there are some (to my knowledge) unused lines for the Orb of Infernal Envisioning in Helsik's shop for any interested.

Disclaimers, disclaimers -- if something doesn't make it into the final text of the published work, it's perfectly reasonable to ignore it for the sake of implications/theories that result from what is explicitly in the text/game itself.

This is just for fun. As is, you know, *all* of this. So.

If Raph's alive:

Narrator: *Your reflection looks back at you, smiling. As the skin burns and peels from its skull, the smile grows wider and wider and wider...*

Narrator: *The ball shows you a vision of yourself so lewd and blasphemous that your soul feels stained.*

Narrator: *Within the crystal, you see the devil Raphael sipping from a goblet of blood-red wine. He smiles as he catches your eye - can he see you?* [[the line we normally encounter]]

Narrator: *The image within the ball drifts through the corridors of an elegant house. Corpses hang from the walls.*

Narrator: *With the clarity of truth, you see an image of yourself laid out on a table like a suckling pig, ready for the carving.*

If you've been a Bad Client (TM):

Narrator: *You see the corridors of the House of Hope. Bloated flies buzz lazily around the corpses of imps and debtors.*

Narrator: *The ball replays the final moments of Raphael's life over and over and over and over...*

Narrator: *Within the ball you see Raphael, broken and bloody, dangling above the maw of the archdevil Mephistopheles who is preparing to devour him.* [[the line we normally encounter]]

Screenshot of the above:

I'm by no means a lore repository - no amount of hyperfixation can make digesting it en masse particularly easy for me. But! I'll tie my thoughts to this nonetheless.

First, we have our canon line: "...He smiles as he catches your eye - can he see you? *denotes: final phrase as incredulous and a little scared"

So we have the writers prompting us to at least entertain the idea that Raphael is placidly aware that you (or someone) is looking in on him - and he smiles! No big deal, favored client! Cheers to you, etc, etc. You're meant to be ill at ease here. I doubt any of us do - but, you're meant to. The average person would.

We'll block these out temporally because it was my first instinct to do so. :)

Past Events -

We have the play-by-play of Raphael's last moments. (GLaDOS voice: "You know, after you murdered me?")

To any player who would have seen this, this is real. Verifiable. The orb is showing you a true thing that happened, and you know because you were there. Doesn't get better than that.

Even if he doesn't ultimately die and there's some grand plot hitherto unseen, the beatdown replayed on the big screen is correct. You'd know if it wasn't.

Premise 1: The orb can show you accurately represented events.

Current 'Events' -

Example: Your reflection has a lab accident moment.

The use of reflection is critical to establish the point in time. You move to the left, it moves to the left. It's right now. And, right now, your skin seems to be melting off your face.

Unless there was an intended accompanied face-melted ending that would have accompanied this dropped line, this was written to be scary and provably false. Tav, touch your face. Exactly.

So:

Premise 2: The orb can show you grotesque illusions not bounded by fact.

Future Events

Ex 1: "*With the clarity of truth, you see an image of yourself laid out on a table like a suckling pig, ready for the carving."

'With the clarity of truth' is an obvious bid to double check any accusations of falsehood, and we're diligent enough to play along.

The only condition to checked to trigger this text is for Raphael to be alive -- regardless if you take his deal, go to his home, etc.

For all roads to lead to Player-Character-buffet seems unreasonable. Impossible, even. Unlawful. I'm calling a lawyer, hang on-

And so we hit a debate on how to interpret the sense of 'truth' you feel from the orb. I think this line reads best from the equivalence of failing some Wisdom check -- you are very sure it's true, but it's an Orb of Infernal Envisioning. Click again. You just saw your reflection melt.

So I think this is a lie.

So we expand Premise 2 a little.

Premise 2, v2: The orb can show you grotesque illusions not bounded by fact. This includes false visions of the future.

Ex. 2: The Blasphemy.

*The ball shows you a vision of yourself so lewd and blasphemous that your soul feels stained.*

Right.

So this has to be the future, because unless you are electing to do some very wild shit while looking into the orb, this is not the current situation.

There is a lot of vagueness here - but, I think that because it is so vague and any variety of Tav/Durge/Origin character can see it and have this response. This is a run-of-the-mill, customized vision of torment meant to get the desired reaction.

It's not about truth, it's not about warning. It's just the infernal variation of a jump scare.

If the content of the vision can be customizable in this fashion, it reveals something else - it's not a specific lie, a specific truth, or any quality of the content itself that 'matters' to the orb. No, what matters is the reaction. Your soul feels stained, doesn't matter how.

Varying Perspectives

Across these, we see the vision in the orb take the perspective of someone following/viewing Raphael (Wine-Snob-Hour, Looped-Death, Saturn-Moment), following/viewing you (Lab-Accident, Dead-Dove-Do-Not-Ohhh Yikes), some unanchored POV that isn't dead-phael ("You see the corridors of the House of Hope. Bloated flies buzz lazily around the corpses of imps and debtors.")

The visions mostly occur in the House of Hope; Cambion dinner is in Mephistar, your reflection is presumably in the Devil's Fee on the Material Plane.

We're not fixed to see any specific time, in any specific realm, to see any specific person. And we're not even guaranteed to see any specific degree of lie.

So what's the point of this fucking thing?

Provable fact is used one time across this set - the first thing we covered. You killed Raphael.

The only time the orb tells you the verifiable truth, it does so "over and over and over and over..."

Because it hurts you. Or, well, it's intended to.

That's it, that's the whole thing. The only time it evokes the (known) truth is when said truth torments you. Otherwise, it's scary what-ifs, cheap jump scares, and the corpses of imps and debtors you had a hand in creating.

All of this can be context to slightly reframe the vision of the moment before filicide with Mephistopheles. All of these visions are brief and so what one selects to provide details of is very revealing.

In this vision you're granted two adjectives:

You see Raphael, broken and bloody, about to die again.

If we stick to the expanded interpretation that the orb shows only what will get the desired reaction, this isn't narrative to resolve a loose thread. It's not closure. It's shown because the orb manifests what is expected to make you suffer - or at least take pause and sort of steep in the disquiet of the consequences for a moment.

Reaching waaaay across the narrative and very out of my lane for this post, so much of the tone in the HoH arc is campy humor, but I don't think this was meant to be.

The specific call out to watching him die 'over and over and over and over', to his 'broken and bloody' form is not flippant language. It's certainly not campy.

I think the tonal shift for this conclusion (while pretty jarring, I gotta admit) is meant to be pretty somber for Raph.

But many players have just bounced down the sequence of "lol he's a bottom" to "Haarlep said that's twice as long as-" to "omg he sings his own song" to victory and, then -- "wtf someone's eating him?"

It's an odd pivot. People have to be primed for sympathy, and I certainly didn't read the writing for the orb as intending to pull at something uncomfortable in the player post-HoH when put in context with the high-score-streak of chamberpot-humor. I can only back into that interpretation when looking at the full set of narration the orb was set to provide at some point.

Kinda wild.

[contentloadingandstuff]

Perfect Match - Yae Miko & Lynette x Male!Hybrid!Reader

A/N: This is the start of a new fluff series, which will feature all the animal/yokai/adepti/hybrid girls and a reader of the same species - Kokomi included. If Fem!Readers will be interested, I might do a bit for the hybrid men. Enjoy! CW: Male!Reader, reader is the same species as the character, mentions of kids, might contain lore inaccuracies.

Having someone who can understand her and relate to her way of being is such an immense joy for Miko. Kitsune are nowhere near as numerous as they were back in the day, so having a handsome, charming and attractive one as her husband is a true blessing. 

As a fellow fox envoy, you have more than the necessary knowledge on fur care, so she'll gladly use your skills. Gentle brushes through her tails not only help keep them in pristine condition, but also feel wonderful. Nothing compares to your ear massages, however. When she lies in your arms and your hands scratch at them lightly, she just melts away, quietly mumbling about her day. 

If Miko feels more cuddly than usual, she will have no problem with asking you for some fox cuddles. Fox bodies are a great deal better for cuddles, with the fluffy fur and flexible, small bodies. There's no better thing than curling up on the beanbag in your bedroom on cold days. It adjusts so perfectly to your little, furry bodies, and retains warmth very well. If she's in the mood for scritches, you will be able to tell as she always lies down on the couch, belly up and ready for affection. 

Since you molt too, the ever-present hair is not as much of an annoyance for you. It also helps in diffusing the responsibility for stray hairs in food. Both of you have pink fur, so how will you prove it’s hers? 

Not transforming into her other form recklessly granted her one big advantage - anonymity. Even if she is a fox of rather refined taste, who said that simple and silly pleasures don't interest her? The rumors of two small foxes zooming around and playing in the woods under the cover of night always bring a smile to her face. Her mind still can't understand just why and how sprinting around and tackling each other is so fun. And when you’ve had enough fun, you can either go back home or find one of your well-furnished hiding spots and spend the night there, curled into each other without a care in the world.

Affection towards you comes naturally to her, obviously, but your Kitsune blood pokes at the more foxy part of her mind. When you’re alone, no matter the form, Miko has a tendency to nibble on you. It can be your shoulder, your lip, ear or finger. Her teeth are very sharp, true, but her gentleness removes any risk of harm to you. Just this simple and natural (for Kitsune) act tends to get some nice reactions out of you with how openly she admits it. The small, barely visible teeth marks look so good on your skin, so why should she hold herself back?

When the exhaustion from your secret zoomies kicks in, Miko will gladly have you climb up on the roof of your residence and stargaze. A single blanket and your hand in hers improves on the experience, changing it from grim and lonely to comforting and familiar. Four hundred years is a lot of time, but one day, both of you will roam the skies as Kitsune Ascendants, together, for as long as the universe itself exists. Miko never stops the dreamy sigh from escaping her lips while considering the future you two have before you. Perhaps, with enough time, you will even become genuine fox deities. 

For now, however, using life for all it's worth seems like a sound plan. Whenever a particular gust of boredom hits you, Miko will coax you into participating in her schemes. Her favorite type of activity is creating problems in the shrine - especially those of the "What would happen if Lady Guuji saw this?!" variety. As the shrine maidens would struggle to solve the conundrum, you and Miko would wait in your fox forms, hidden in some dark nook of the shrine, listening and waiting for the right moment. When it eventually comes, you would emerge from the hiding spot and turn back into human forms behind a corner, and approach the maiden seemingly out of nowhere. The looks of terror on their faces are sure to stick in her mind for weeks, if not months to come. 

Of course, turning into inanimate objects is also a possibility, but is a lot more risky. Since there's no mobility to be had, an escape in case of someone trying to use the item for its intended purpose, oblivious to the fact that it's actually you and Miko playing a prank would require a shift back to human form, which in turn would reveal Miko's fairly childish sense of humor. The only people she can fool recklessly are the maids, but they've learned by now that, in a Kitsune's home, nothing is as it seems. Pranking you is out of the question since you can easily pick up her scent, though it doesn't mean that she won't try to mask it with perfume or cook distractingly delicious food. Beware!

Occasionally, when you wrap your tails around each other and love for the other fills you to the absolute limit, you might just experience shared dreams. Your adventures are very varied in activities and locations, but all have just one thing in common - you.

Having and raising kids, especially as many as you were gifted with, is an enormous task, but as most things in life, does not go without its benefits. They are cute, amusingly chaotic and so lovely. They way they stalk finches and other birds, their irises expanding before pouncing and failing to catch it never fails to make her chuckle. Their play fights look concerning, but Miko knows better than to break them up. A few bruises and scratches never killed anyone. No matter what they do or what form they take, they are always eight balls of pure, chaotic Kitsune energy. 

Even if their stamina for spreading entropy is baffling, it's not infinite. They will drag themselves home eventually, dirty, exhausted, but absolutely happy - as children in that state usually are. After a big meal and a thorough bath, the kids will turn into their animal forms and snuggle up to you and Miko, thus forming a big pile of fur, ears, tails and snouts. It's extremely cozy, warm and relaxing, but the sheer amount of Kitsune makes it hard to crawl out of it in the morning. That said, getting a bigger beanbag is a good idea - who said those eight are the last kids Miko wants? 

It’s such a refreshment, to have someone who perfectly fits her needs. The chemistry between the two of you is natural, as in a world of noisy humans, feline blood guarantees at least a little quiet. 

Sure, she loves her brothers, but even they tend to be louder than she can take. Moving to your house was a notable step up in Lynette’s overall living comfort. Your movements, as silent and graceful as hers, never disturb her sleep nor catch her attention. Although for a child of The House that would be concerning, she never once caught you lying or acting even slightly suspicious.

Speaking of silence, most onlookers would never guess that you’re a couple if they were to examine your average day. Very few words are exchanged between you - your tails and ears, as well as subtle facial expressions, can signal almost everything. The right gaze into your eyes can get her exactly where she wants to be - be that an outing to a cafe, a cuddle session or an intimate moment - without the need to utter a single word. Frequently, your house is filled with nothing but the silent ticking of the clock. 

Having never experienced real intimacy, Lynette longs for your touch. She likes her cuddles tight and warm. There is no need for a fireplace to comfort her when she can snuggle into your arms and rest on your chest. The heat radiating from you is addictive, just as the rhythmic beating of your heart and gentle breathing are. Your touch is precise and skilled, scratching and caressing just the right spots to make her drowsy just after a few moments. What’s even more wonderful is the simple fact that you are nocturnal as well, meaning that you will never judge or get upset over her sleeping most of the day. Napping is her favorite activity, and should you join her, feels like heaven. 

Night is when you truly feel at home. The delightful stillness of the capital encourages exploration of the streets, now free of the crowds and bothersome noise. For somebody as agile as you two, scaling the outer walls is no problem, so the highest tier tends to be your hangout spot. Thanks to the wonders of portable kettles, it’s quite easy to have tea in the moonlight with Lynette, along with delectable biscuits. The nightly chill helps cool down the beverage, and in your excellent company, time flies by at breakneck speed. Before long, the sun rises again, and the Court Of Fontaine awakes. It’s not as much of a problem as it is an annoyance.

Being in a similar body to her means you face the same problems as she does, as well as share a few preferences. Your lifelong enjoyment of fish dishes means your skill in cooking them is up to par. Even despite being able to cook various exquisite and complex meals, such as the renowned Squirrel Fish, Lynette tends to ask for mostly simple salmon sushi. The strong taste of the raw fish coupled with the gentle base of rice tickles her taste buds in all the right ways. 

When it comes to ear and tail hygiene, she prefers to do it herself, but the care you provide on demand is undeniably pleasant. Lynette would much rather groom yours, without much real thought behind the reason as to why. Perhaps interacting with your unique features eases the feeling of standing out from the crowd? 

Sometimes, instead of a standard kiss, she might bump your cheek or touch your nose with hers. It's a silly little gesture, one that she will do her best to keep under wraps. One morning, however, somnolent Lynette did just that while greeting you in her family home. Luck had it that Freminet was the only witness… What would be if Lyney saw it? She wouldn't hear the end of it for at least a week, that's certain. 

Lynette is no stranger to catnip. Her sense of smell is as developed as that of a cat, and the plant still activates her hormones all the same. The magician used it only on a handful of occasions, scared of both clouding her mind and her brothers finding out. Now that she lives with you, the threat of the latter is no more, and she can enjoy her narcotic with you in privacy. Though the sober Lynette is reserved, the high Lynette is an absolute cuddlebug with her purring matching the dishwasher in volume. The sleep afterwards remains one of the best things in life in her opinion. 

Just use it in moderation. Addiction to catnip is a real problem amongst the feline population, and she doesn't want either of you going down that path. 

Thanks for reading!

[bambifornia]

huuUOOoLRgGghh fiinnne I can't stay away from you all

i bring more autobot!swindle. plus my attempt at writing his backstory

disclaimer : most of the stuff below isn't canon i just wrote this for fun. if u guys wanna make ur own swindle backstories i invite yall to do so :D we will make our own swindle content

swindle came online during cybertron's early years of the age of expansion. the autobots (with their goal to expand cybertron's empire) engineered a set of bots who would serve cybertron as its intergalactic merchants, programmed to be ambitious bots who sought profit. they also came with bigger processors (for storing transactions and whatnot) and versatile frames (so they could withstand organic climates)

shortly after coming online, swindle was assigned a teacher (another merchant) who'd pass down the knowledge of the trade. swindle did his best to keep up with his lessons

as a student, swindle was determined and clever. as a bot, though...eughh...

- he had less of a filter, and didn't know how to keep a poker face

- his little new England accent used to be a lot thicker (think earthspark swindle)

- very friendly, had a lot of amicas back in the day (he was definitely the "I know a bot" guy). it was a struggle for him to keep quiet

- loved hands on activities, hated sitting still

- kept a journal detailing his intergalactic trips. tried to doodle any organics he found interesting

- LOVED shiny stuff. he was like a crow lmao

- his sharp glossa would sometimes get his aft beat

- despite being a chatterbox, he wasn't as suave back then. he'd often get himself in awkward situations, which he'd try to talk himself out of the embarrassment but he'd end up digging a deeper hole for himself

- petty king. also kinda nosy and had a thing for gossip

- loved pranking, and teased the bots he liked

once he was ready, swindle was given a ship and assigned a trading post (as a starting point). from that point, swindle was a rootin tootin merchant and nothing bad ever happened to him again :D...

...

until the quintessa skirmishes

the age of expansion ended with border disputes between cybertron and quintessa. multiple skirmishes sproutted along the border, and while swindle didn't fight in them, he was certainly caught in the crossfire. swindle ended up with a broken ship, a looted inventory, and a bungled up frame. he had to return to cybertron for repairs

back on cybertron, swindle finds a planet wildly different from the one he knows. tensions between autobots and decepticons are rising, and the banks aren't holding up that great. swindle finds himself in a tight spot (financially speaking) since he still has to deal with his losses from quintessa. unable to go back to his actual merchant job, swindle resorts to taking odd jobs to keep himself afloat (yes, even stealing)

when the war breaks out, swindle gets drafted into the front lines (a decision that still baffles him to this day). since he's not much of a fighter, the autobots have swindle work as a spy, ordering him to smuggle weapons out of decepticon servos...

in future hindsight, that was a poor decision

---

wrapping it up here because i don't want this post to get too long LMAO but I still have more ideas for him if yall are interested. just know that this is not the end of swindle lore

ALSO I finally came up with autobot!swindle designations :D I've narrowed it down to 3 and I need help deciding. it's either between

quickdime - cuz. you know. he's always looking to make a quick buck

treasury - his subspace acts like a treasury if you kinda think about it

fortune - idk it sounds cute. besides fortune tends to "favor the bold and clever"

if u made it this far then congrats. thank u for listening to me yap. have a bonus doodle

[broomsick]

Would you mind sharing your personal experience with Odinn? I've heard a lot about him but would really love to hear what he's like from your experience. He seems really nice. :)

Hey! Thank you for the ask, it would be my pleasure to share my experiences with you.

I think it's important to take into account how often Óðinn as a mythological figure has been exploited in media. He's become quite the celebrity when it comes to the popular general knowledge regarding norse mythology. Someone who doesn't know much about the topic could still name him when asked about "the Gods of the vikings", simply due to the sheer presence he occupies in modern media. This makes it so creators can pretty much project what they want onto him for the purposes of their story, passing off this or that as being part of a sort of alternate mythology. That makes it difficult for us as worshippers to detangle the threads of this inflated lore, and rid ourselves of preconceived ideas regarding his existence as a deity rather than a pop culture figure.

In my eyes, the feature that stands out most prominently to me: he is great. To me personally, he feels similar to a grandparent who has seen so much, been through so much, and who has an unlimited supply of stories to tell, and of advice to give. I have so much admiration for him that it's almost overwhelming, in a reassuring way (if that makes sense). What I mean by "great" is that his presence commands reverence, like when you're faced with a landscape so magnificent it takes your breath away and you're left quietly admiring and listening, letting yourself be swept away by its beauty. But at the same time, Óðinn's beauty is indisputably found in simplicity. I'd compare this feeling to coming back home after a long journey and realizing how precious the simple moments of your every day life are, and how much you'd missed them. It's a simple solution to a problem you thought was a maze. And Óðinn's teachings are often like that: it often comes down to quiet contemplation of the world around you, and of your own feelings.

I hope I'm not diving too deep into imagery and abstract ideas. Let me try and make this more concrete. In my experience, his personality is quite a bit like that of a playful grandfather figure. He'll often find ways to surprise you, and also to comfort you. When you start to worship him, what you can expect for sure is that you'll never know what to expect! And above all, Óðinn is so, so, so kind. He's benevolent and gentle, but in a way that makes you realize the strength that lies underneath it all. After all, he's a figure associated with war and death, right? It serves as a reminder that there's balance to be found between chaos and order, and that loss and happiness are often two sides of the same coin. That's where the complexity of Óðinn lies.

He's also taught me to be cautious and to look out for myself, to hone my intuition and to know myself. In a way, he's acted in my life like a sort of spiritual "anchor". When I struggled to connect with spirituality due to lack of time, or due to mental health factors, I always knew without a doubt that he of all the Gods was aware of my struggle, and that he was there for me to call upon at all times. What I believe is that he cares so incredibly much for his followers, and that he places trust in us. It's like he's curious to see how we'll pull through the trials that life throws at us, standing ready to help whenever the need arises.

Among the norse pantheon, he's the God that stands out to me as being the most "unreadable". He's an enigma really, which also contributes to making him feel so powerful to me. Regardless of this, I would highly recommend worshipping Óðinn if you're inrerested. He's such a generous, benevolent, playful, and admirable deity to get to know. I can't begin to put into words how much he's helped me in my personal life. In a way, he's even the one who drew me to heathenry in the first place. I feel connected to him in a deeply personal and spiritual way.

[froggibus]

some NSFW baptiste for the soul? where he's going nice and gentle and breeding reader? and can it end with some nice cuddling? baptiste is my wife and girlfriend i fear,,,

Too Sweet - Baptiste

Pairing: Baptiste x fem! fiancee! reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.7k (not proofread)

Summary: after being gone the whole summer, your fiance finally returns ready to settle down--and start a family

CW: established relationship (engagement), some nods towards the lore/Cassidy: New Blood, porn w plot, reader was on birth control, breeding, trying for a baby, talks of pregnancy, fingering, lots of cum, missionary, mating press, pet names (babe/baby), lots of praise, bap wants to name your future kid after Rihanna

of course! baptiste is also my wife so why not make him our husband here ^~^ i meant to post this on the weekend but life got in the way, sorry it's so delayed! it rained for like a week straight when i was writing this so i was very much feeling some autumn vibes. hope you enjoy!

Baptiste’s best kept secret wasn’t his wide array of Talon knowledge, or the top secret nanobiotic tech he learned from Doctor Ziegler. It wasn’t even his personal network of safehouses, burner phones and resources. No, Baptiste’s best kept secret was currently leaned over his marble countertop, sipping a pumpkin spice latte while one of his old, worn shirts rode up over plush thighs.

No one in the whole world—not Talon, or his newly formed Overwatch colleagues—knew about his fiancee, or the modest sized house they share out on the coast. And that’s the way he wanted it. Covert, safe. Away from prying eyes.

Baptiste’s own eyes ached from exhaustion, the sleep he’d missed out on this past week was finally beginning to catch up. He’d sleep later, though. After being gone the entire summer, all he wanted was the comfort of his home and the warmth of your body.

Strong arms wrap around your waist. “Enjoying your sugar?”

The smile that breaks out over your face is almost painfully wide. You relax into his chest, letting the familiar smell of his cologne wash over like the rain outside washes over the quivering maple tree. 

“My coffee,” you correct, “is fantastic.” 

Baptiste only chuckles in response, the vapid beat of his heart copying the rhythm onto your back. He plants a kiss to the side of your neck and you squirm from the scruff of his facial hair against the sensitive skin.

“How was the journey back?” You ask softly.

You know better than anyone the lengths your fiance has to go to just to shake Talon off of his trail. It was necessary this time, though. He didn’t give much of an explanation before he left, just that an old friend needed his help and a promise to be back as soon as possible. 

He tenses for only a moment before letting his shoulders drop. His fingers move to trace the line of skin where the hem of his t-shirt meets your thighs. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“So what do you want to talk about?”

He trails his hand slightly lower, calloused pads of his fingers grazing dangerously low. “You got my letter, right?”

You suck in a breath. Yes, you had gotten his most recent letter, and the very detailed instructions he’d left within.

“Yes,” you say, “I did.”

“And you stopped taking it?” 

Just before his fingers can get lower, can finally reach the spot that’s ached for him for months, he’s dragging them back up to your hips. You sigh in protest, but the medic holds firm.

“As soon as you told me to.” Your eyes dart to the medicine drawer next to the sink, where your most recent pack of birth control lays untouched. “Are you sure that this is a good idea?”

He drops his hands from your sides, prompting you to turn around. He’s just as handsome as when he left, though you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. “We don’t have to right now if you’re having doubts,” he promises.

“It’s just—” You drop your gaze to the ground, fiddling with the shiny engagement ring on your hand. “You’re gone so often, the world is a mess. Do we really want to bring a child into this mess?”

Baptiste grabs your hands, holding them tightly in his. “What if I wasn’t gone so often?”

Your head snaps up at his words. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story, why don’t we sit?”

Ten minutes later, you’re left sitting on the couch in utter shock. You knew about your fiance’s past, and his connection to Angela Ziegler—but you had no idea that’s who he was going to find. The most shocking news of all, though, was the part he played in helping unite a newer, freer Overwatch.

“So you really met Cole Cassidy?” You’re not sure why those are the first words out of your mouth.

He nods eagerly, finally letting himself smile. He’d been stressed the past few weeks, unsure of how you’d react to the news of what he’d been up to this summer, or what it would mean for your relationship.

“These people are strong allies, love.” He grabs your hands in his once more. “Stronger than Talon. And they’re everywhere.”

And suddenly the reality of the situation dawns on you. With good people to stand up to Talon, with good people watching your backs, there’d be no more running and hiding. 

“That’s why you want to start a family now.” Your voice is barely a hopeful whisper. “Because it’s finally safe.”

Baptiste cups your face gently, leaning in to press his lips against yours. It’s a soft kiss at first, gentle and inoffensive. You bask in the familiar taste of him, the way his skin feels under your palms when you wrap your arms around your shoulders.

Then it’s needy. Desperate. Longing. He pushes harder against you, and you push back, giving him everything you have, everything you are. You tighten your grip and lean into him, letting him hold you, letting him have you.

He’s breathless when he pulls away and cups your cheeks with both hands. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before letting his hands drop to the tops of your thighs.

“Nice t-shirt.” He teases.

“Likewise.”

He’s on his knees before you can react, a hand on either thigh holding them apart. The second he sees your damp panties peeking out from under his shirt, he knows he’s so gone. He’s dreamt about you, dreamt about this, for months—but nothing could ever compare to finally seeing it in person again.

He drags his finger up your slit, collecting up the slick that’s gathered on the cotton fabric. His dark eyes lock on yours as he lifts that same finger to his mouth and licks it and moans.

You’re enamored by his gaze and desperate for his touch while you watch him clean your juices off his fingers. The gesture only makes you throb with need, your poor neglected pussy set on fire from just one touch.

“Bap,” you rasp.

“Just as sweet as I remember.” He dips his fingers back between your legs, drawing figure eights across your panties. “So wet already.”

Your thighs clench involuntarily when he pinches your clit through your panties, but Baptiste holds them open with the bulk of his shoulders. You look down at him pleadingly, but he doesn’t slow the assault on your dripping cunt.

“Just—just take them off already,” you plead.

Baptiste takes pity on you and hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down past your knees. The cold air hits your pussy and eases the fire that threatened to consume you only a moment ago. Only a second later is it rekindled when he sucks on his index finger before slowly pushing it inside of you.

It’s only been a few minutes, but you’re impossibly wet and his finger just slides right in. You open up around him, your pussy glad to take something bigger after months of just your hand. He pumps his finger in and out slowly, savouring the way you clench around him and gush over his knuckles.

He slips in another finger, eyes flicking up to watch you through his lashes. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as your pussy stretches around the second finger, and suddenly you realize it's been so long—too long—since you’ve had him.

Baptiste’s eyes don’t leave yours as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. He can’t help but admire the way you arch your back into his palm, the soft moans that leave your mouth. He’s missed this, he’s missed you. 

His cock aches at the sight of your glistening pussy, straining against his pants like a plea for relief. He hasn’t been able to relieve himself—really relieve himself—since the start of the summer. It was only made worse by knowing he’d be coming home to you soon, off the pill and ready for him to fill you up as he pleases.

You blink back a few tears, the knot in your stomach getting painfully tight. “Babe, I’m—”

He cuts you off with a soft kiss to your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive skin and sucking. His fingers curl inside of you and suddenly you’re bursting at the seams and coming undone, pure lava rushing through your veins and making your head spin.

Baptiste keeps his fingers inside while you cum, your pussy clenching them almost painfully tight. He doesn’t care about the loss of circulation from his fingers, though. All he cares about is how pretty you look cumming for him, and how much prettier you’ll be when he’s stuffing you with his cock.

He’s shameless about sucking your juices off of his fingers when he pulls them out, and even less shameful about pressing his lips to yours so you can taste how sweet you are.

He’s panting when he pulls away, his hands desperately fiddling with his belt. “You really want to do this? Start a family?”

You nod, your heart swelling at the twinkle in his eye. Your pussy throbs in anticipation while you watch him scramble to strip himself out of his jeans. His cock is already rock hard, precum staining the dark fabric of his boxers. You reach out for him, desperately tracing the outline of his length.

He gasps and grabs your fingers. “Let me take care of you,” he says.

You lean back on the couch, keeping your legs spread for him. It’s a challenge in itself to keep from leaning forward and taking his cock in your mouth. It only gets harder as he strips out of his boxers and lets it spring free, revealing the beads of precum and the swollen tip.

He rubs his hand through your folds, collecting your slick and using it to lube up his length. He’s nearly trembling from the anticipation of it all, a small moan slipping out as he rubs your juices into his throbbing cock.

Then he’s laying between your legs, his arms flexing with the strength it takes to prop himself up above you. You reach down and help guide his cock to your entrance, your head going fuzzy as soon as his tip pops inside of you.

You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the stretch as his cock slowly slides further inside of you. Electricity sparks your skin wherever his body touches yours, travelling up your spine and vibrating around your skull. He kisses your jaw gently, prompting you to open your eyes.

Just as his cock bottoms out, he leans in to kiss you. It’s a softer kiss now, but still laced with his earlier desperation. He slowly pulls out of you before pushing back in, keeping his movements steady as you adjust to him again.

His thrusts start to grow deeper, more intense. He sits upright, keeping his cock inside of you, just to get a better angle to watch you. You just look so cute when he fucks you, he can’t believe how lucky he is to be marrying you.

He reaches between your legs to roll your clit between his fingers, keeping his eyes glued to your face. “Mm, does that feel good?”

“So good,” you mumble out.

Suddenly he’s wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up to his chest, his cock sinking so deep that it brushes your cervix. You cry out from the sudden, sharp pressure and wrap your arms around his neck to ground yourself.

“I know, I know,” he coos, bucking his hips up into yours. He’s holding you with one arm, the other one laying a throw pillow flat on the couch. 

He lays you down again, the small of your back resting against the pillow and giving him the perfect angle to keep fucking you at. His thrusts are deeper now, filling you up in that perfect way each time.

He leans forward to kiss you again, gently pressing down on your stomach as he does. He gasps, “you feel so good, baby.”

The sudden pressure on your lower tummy only makes his cock feel so much bigger, your cunt feel so much fuller. The pleasure of it all is enough to send you over the edge, the heat finally flooding over you.

Baptiste plants soft kisses all over your face as you cum, still driving his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he murmurs, “cum for me, let it all out.”

You’re clenching down on him so hard, and whining so cutely, and suddenly he’s following you over the edge. His cock twitches, and suddenly wave after wave of hot cum is flooding your walls. He hasn’t came in weeks—it was too important that he saved it all for you.

He plants a wet kiss on your lips. “One more, okay?”

You’re hot, and tired, but the way his cock still throbs with need inside of you fuels you forward. You weakly nod at him, digging your nails into the tight muscles of his shoulders.

He leans forward, folding your knees up to your chest, getting his cock deeper than it was before. He’s sensitive already, he knows he won’t last very long, but his balls feel impossibly heavy, aching to fill you up more.

He grabs your hands in his, lacing his fingers with yours and pinning them above your head. “So pretty for me,” he mumbles. “So pretty and so fuckable.”

His thrusts are all slow and sloppy, but his cock is still as deep as before. His cum inside of you sloshes around with every thrust, pushing it further into your cunt. It’s hot and it’s sweaty and tears prick your eyes but he’s so deep and it feels so good.

“Almost there baby. Doing so good f’me.”

You let your eyes fall shut at a particularly deep thrust, focusing only on the way his tip feels when it’s pushing up against your insides. His hands tighten around yours and you know it won’t be long until he’s coming undone once more.

He peppers your face with light kisses, whispering praises into your ear. Your pussy aches with the twitch of his cock, the promise that he’s about to cum. And then he’s flooding your walls with cum once more. Wave after wave of it fills you, stuffs you to the brim, before leaking out of the cracks between his cock and your pussy. It pools on your thighs, creating a sticky mess.

Baptiste lets himself collapse on top of you, his forehead glistening with sweat. His body shakes with every breath, but you can feel him smiling against your neck. He lets himself lay there for a few minutes, partly because he’s tired, partly because he wants to keep his cum inside of you as long as possible.

When he finally pulls out, a big gush of it runs down your thighs and onto the couch. He frowns, he’ll have to fix that later.

He reaches for your hand. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, hm?”

—

Ten minutes later and you’re clean in bed, wearing another one of your fiance’s old t-shirts. He’s laying behind you, his body pressed completely against yours. He traces slow circles around your tummy to the tune of the rain hitting the window outside.

“We should name her something cool,” he says suddenly. “Like Rihanna.”

“She’s not anything yet.” You tease, “I thought you were supposed to know that, since you’re a doctor and all.”

You can’t see him, but you can feel him roll his eyes behind you. He tugs you in closer, his arms tight on your waist. “I have a good feeling about this.”

You sigh contentedly, letting yourself relax into him. Baptiste keeps tracing circles around your stomach even long after you fall asleep. Under any other conditions, he might’ve been scared to leave his old life behind. But with you by his side, he jumped without another thought, and he never looked back.

overwatch masterlist | masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[xmalereader]

Thomas Shelby x Vampire! Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Authors note: It’s finally here, the last part of the Doctor Hemlock series 🥲. The inspiration was gained by watching; Oppenheimer ( because cillian ) S6 of peaky blinders and Story of Dracula. I mashed up all of these together and wanted to come up with something slight angsty and fluff towards the end? I’m thinking about making this short series into an actual multi chapter series with better explanation and view of their relationship, but I’d get into too much detail and lore of Hemlock. Anyways, please enjoy this last shot, I apologize for any history stuff I’m a huge history nerd which is why I enjoyed watching Oppenheimer.

Summary: The final part of the Doctor Vampire series.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of death, turning, history buff, language, mentions of WW2, marriage, past trauma, Oppenheimer reference, Thomas says his last farewell, character death, mentions of the future and past, kissing, slight mentions of blood, mentions of sexual assault.

Word count: 3.3k

—

—

December 1933

It’s been a a year since he escaped Oswalds grasp, doing things that he was not proud of while under the mans watch. He can still smell the rotten blood along with the sweat of other men who used him for their desires. After Oswald’s huge win on the nazi party he was finally let go under terrible conditions. He’s been locked away for months without the knowledge of knowing what happened to the Shelby family—what happened to Thomas.

After Oswald had won his way into the Nazi Campaign he was finally let go, tossed out from the basement that he was locked in after a year of torture and pain, unable to fight his way through without people taking notice of his existence as a vampire. The world wasn’t ready for it and he couldn’t risk it, not when he agreed to work under Oswald in order to keep the Shelby family safe and alive or so he thought.

Y/n went missing on the day that Polly was killed, for 4 years he was never to be seen again and leaving a bad impression on Thomas making him believe that he had left the family or had betrayed him, having no idea that he was trying to find his own ways to keep the Shelby family from losing anymore people. During his time locked up he heard very little of the family whenever Oswald paid him a visit, feeding him like usual and talking so highly about his latest wins and victories in politics and it letting it be known that he was reaching the high chair and reaching the top.

For a four years he remembered the smell of blood and vomit; Oswald was feeding him, but not correctly. The cruel man would bring innocent people to him in order to feed, knowing damn well that the vampire didn’t drink fresh human blood. He found ways to balance his diet without drinking from another human being after the first time he did. Feeling disgusted with himself he had no choice but to feed if he wanted to make it out of this place alive.

He remembers the cries of the people he drank from, lips covered in their blood as the life in their eyes die out. Once Oswald was satisfied with the results he left him alone with the corpse in his cell, letting him rot in guilt while vomiting up the blood he drank knowing that it wouldn’t do him any better. For four years he faced the torture of Oswalds men for those four years he was forced to lie about Thomas medical condition, making up fake reports of a disease in order to trick Thomas into thinking that he was dying.

For Oswald to get rid of his number one enemy and competitor.

After being released he spent his time looking for the Shelby family only to find nothing. Thomas was gone and so was the rest of his family. No trace of the family was left behind it was as if they all disappeared into thin air, leaving him on his own again. For the first few months he remained hidden from the public’s eye, not wanting to be recognized as the missing doctor of Birmingham. It felt like old times again, having to hide from the people as the years went on. As time moved forward he remained the same, having to adapt into the new century to come.

He watched as the world went on, watched as the fascists won and continued to rage on war onto their own people. It felt like history was repeating itself and he was there to witness it like always. It wasn’t until he noticed the news of Oswalds wedding, marrying the horrendous women that showed in the picture of the newspaper that his hand gripped. His blood boiled in anger at the thought of Oswald getting everything he wanted while he remained on his own, losing the only family he had left.

With rage blinding him he made his way towards the nearest place that could help him get to Oswald faster. Finding his way to Holford’s home, knowing that the man replaced him into becoming Thomas’ doctor for the past 3 years in order to get closer to the Shelby man.

Y/n had entered the property, ignoring the workers protest of him not being allowed inside as he walks further into the place, looking for the doctor until he hears a gun shot go off, getting his attention. He’s quick to rush towards the noise, standing at the entrance of a tunnel only to see the one person he never thought he would ever see again. He’s frozen in place, eyes wide while he stares into Thomas blue eyes.

Thomas stood at the other end of the tunnel, frozen in disbelief as he shakes his head slowly and murmurs to himself. “I’m seeing things.” He had seen his dead daughter and now he’s seeing a dead man that he once trusted with his whole life, telling himself that it wasn’t real.

“You’re in my head.” He says again only this time Y/n finally speaks up.

“Thomas?”

His voice was the same since Thomas last heard it, soft and warm. He wants to tell himself that it wasn’t real and that he died many years ago only for him to feel a warm pair of arms thrown around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Thomas stumbled back in his step, clearly in shock. His hands shook and his breath grew ragged.

“Hemlock?”

The doctor nods into Thomas shoulder, holding tight as Thomas gently placed a hand onto his back, feeling his heart beat. The feeling brings Thomas to tears, breaking down in front of them as his arm fully pulls him close.

Y/n knew that Thomas never cried unless needed too and he never judged the man for it as the two stand in the middle of the tunnel, holding each other close.

One relieved to have found someone they cared for and the other relieved to know that they haven’t lost everything.

—

Thomas and Y/n had gotten far away from Holfords place, out on the hilltop where Thomas’ carriage burned in flames. Instead of Thomas running instead to save what he had of his family he instead mounted his horse with Y/n climbing behind him as they road off towards the hills, far away from the place. The ride between the two was in silence, Y/n had his forehead pressed against Tommy’s back, one arm around his torso while Thomas held the reigns with one hand and the other holding onto Y/n’s arm, wanting reassurance that he wasn’t seeing things again.

The warmth of his hand was enough for Thomas to know that he wasn’t dreaming.

It doesn’t take long for them to arrive near a lake, dismounting the horse in silence as Tommy ties the reigns and Y/n sits near the river, watching the fish swim and the water run downhill. He feels Thomas sit next to him as the two remain close to each other.

The silence is later broken by Thomas. “You disappeared, thought you died.” He began, he played with the pocket watch he held between his fingers. “I went looking for you after Polly died—I knew how much she meant to you and had to tell you, but you weren’t are the hospital nor at your house.”

Y/n’s focus is still on the fish remembering that it was the same day that he was taken by Oswald’s men, captured and locked away.

“I asked Alfie if he knew where you were and he didn’t.” Thomas licks his dry lips. “I thought Oswald got to you and killed you, but your a vampire you can’t kill one easily—“

“Oswald took me that night.” Y/n cuts in, interrupting Thomas and getting his attention. He doesn’t look away from the river. “Oswald knew I was a vampire…his ancestors hunted us for years and he followed into their footsteps. When he found out that I was associated with you and your family he took advantage and threatened me, used me, and I—“ He looks down, holding back the guilty tears as he speaks. “He told me that he wouldn’t hurt any of you if I left with him and I agreed.”

The silence that Thomas was giving him was enough for him to keep his eye focused elsewhere, not daring to look at the man that possibly hated him only to gasp when Thomas reached out to touch his hand, getting him to look up at the other man who only stared at him with eyes full of tears. “I thought you died.”

Y/n shakes his head. “I could have…”

Thomas held his hand tight the two siting close to each other as they listen to the river run.

“We’re both dead to the world and we both lost.” Said Thomas.

After finding out that his disease wasn’t true he had the ability to turn back to his family, but after a month of being gone is possible that everyone thought that he had killed himself. Everyone knew that Thomas Shelby wasn’t going to allow a disease to slowly kill him and would much rather put a bullet in his own head. His family and friends probably think he’s dead already and knows that he couldn’t return to them, not after everything he put them through.

Y/n knew that he wouldn’t have much time with Thomas, having to live on without him. Thomas will pass on and he will move forward, watching as the world grows. “What now?” He blurts out. Y/n usually had things planned and out and knew what to do for the next hundred years, but after what happened in the past five he felt lost.

Thomas was the same.

He was always two steps ahead of everyone, now he felt like he was two steps behind. “I don’t know…” His response was honest he really didn’t know.

The vampire sighs while the two stared ahead, lost in thought and unknown to them on whats to come next. The cold weather was approaching and soon the hills will be covered in snow and new life will start again once spring hits. Y/n had spent years watching the world move on while he stayed the same, having to change every new century, befriend new people, watch them die, and repeat the cycle again. Only this time, he couldn’t do it again, not alone.

—

“What’s it like?”

“It’s like falling asleep and then you wake up.”

Thomas chuckled, head on the doctors lap as he stares at the night sky, stars shining down on them.

“There’s no turning back, Tommy.”

He rolls up his sleeve.

“I know.”

He bites into his own flesh, blood coating his lip.

“Then you know what you’ll face? It’s harder than it sounds.”

“Am I going to be alone?”

The doctor faintly smiles. “No.”

“Good.”

Their lips finally seal together.

—

December 1954

Y/n was sitting in the living room a copy of Times in his hand as he reads through the article, pen in hand and biting down on it in concentration. “Who would have thought that in 20 years a bomb big enough to wipe out an entire city could be seen as the worlds biggest threat.” He speaks out loud, flipping the magazine page as he reads through the article of the “Grandfather of the atomic bomb” news had spread around the world that America had used an atomic bomb to target Japan.

Killing thousands of innocent people.

War was nothing new to Y/n and has seen it for many years and it always end the same with millions of lives being lost due to politics that he never liked or partook into. Whenever he was invited to parties or event during his time as a doctor he was always dragged into political conversations, always finding a way out of it and leaving the crowd before it got too serious for him to handle.

The doctor sighs and closed the Time’s magazine before tossing it onto the empty space on the couch. Until a pair of pale hands picks up the copy. “If you hate it so much why read it?” asked Thomas as he sits next to the other man, reading the magazine in his hand while the other held a cup of tea, taking a small sip as he reads the cover.

It’s been twenty years since Y/n had turned Thomas.

Twenty years since they’ve moved to the states and started new lives.

Thomas looked healthier than he used too and was still adjusting to life as a vampire, learning Y/n’s diet and consuming human foods whenever he pleases. Due to him looking healthier he also looked young for a sixty year old man, the thought merely makes the doctor chuckle since he, himself, was far older than Thomas.

“Perhaps I should stop reading the papers.” He comments, siting back in his spot while lying his head against the cushions while watching Thomas flip through the magazine.

Y/n remembers the first few years of Thomas adjustments, watching as life went on while he stayed frozen in time and struggling with his thirst. Y/n had promised him that he would be with him along the way and wasn’t going to break it, teaching Thomas how to feed and starting his own diet. Before the two left for the states, Thomas had watched over his family and watched as they moved on with their lives, making changes to his company and using the funds that he gave to them for their own children. He watched Arthurs struggle of losing another brother only to heal with the support of his wife, Lizzie and Charlie both move to the country side were she was able to relax from the chaos and death she faced, while Ada remained a widow with her two sons, still lost in the dark from Thomas not telling her the truth as to why he left.

Thomas always felt guilty for not telling her, but she had been through so much that he couldn’t bring himself to tell her and thought that leaving without saying anything would make things easier for him only it didn’t. He bid his silent farewells to his brother and sister before traveling across the ocean and to the states where both Y/n and Thomas were able to start over.

Y/n had caught Thomas outside siting on the porch every night since arriving to America, unable to sleep as he thought about his family. Y/n’s couldn’t blame him and knew what it felt like to leave everything behind, knowing that he couldn’t be present without letting it be known that they were vampires, but with time Thomas grew adjusted to the changes.

“Science takes you everywhere.” Thomas sighs out deeply while setting the magazine down and turning to face Y/n who was already looking at him with a faint smile on his lips, causing the other to furrow his brows.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Y/n shakes his head softly. “It’s nothing.” He repeats himself, clearly proud and admiring Thomas.

“Very well…” Thomas slowly raised the cup of tea to his lips as the sun hits the silver ring he wore on his left hand, getting the vampires attention as his eyes followed the gleaming ring. Not only had Y/n turned Thomas, but the two had secretly gotten married a few years back, knowing that it was illegal for same sex marriage to occur and resulted in terrible consequences that both Y/n and Thomas did their own ceremony in private.

The two wore their own silver rings and would often be asked who their ‘wives’ were when they attend neighborhood parties or work parties and the two always found ways to change the conversation, throwing them off from knowing their marriage.

Perhaps in the future they’ll be able to get officially married?

“Any new patients?”

Y/n hums in questioning, getting pulled out of his thoughts when hearing Thomas ask about his work. “There all the same, mostly soldiers that have gotten back from the war.” He explains. “A few are still struggling with the shit they’ve been through.”

“I know what that’s like.”

Thomas knew of the second war that was raging on with Germany and the amount of lives lost.

The two had lost Alfie in that war and knew how close Y/n was with the man that the news devastated him. The doctor kept his distance for a few days, letting the news sink in before he could accept the fact that Alfie was gone.

“Now Russia is targeting America, think will live through this one too?” Thomas chuckled at his words, lips forming into a small smile. “I think will be fine.”

Who would have thought that they would make it through a Cold War.

—

January 2023

“—successful companies don’t just happen. Success requires nurturing, year after year, to assure that customers expectation not only are met, but also are exceeded. For this weeks assignment I want you all to research about any company or business that has succeed and to reasoning as to why.”

Thomas hears the rustling of bags being packed and the sound of laptops and notebooks being closed making him check the watch he wore and noticing that he went over ten minute of his class time. “I seem to have gone over my limit.” He chuckled, before dismissing his class. For years, Thomas had done different jobs; working in bars, politics, gambling, assassination, stay at home husband, and various others throughout the last sixty years.

He never thought that he’d enjoy being a professor and teaching business, having started when Y/n convinced him to give it a try due to his knowledge in business and knowing how to handle one since he used to own the Shelby Company.

It didn’t take Thomas long to get the job as a business professor.

His first semester only had twenty students, due to him being new not many students joined his class until the second semester hit. His list of students tripled surprising him by how much changed in such a short time.

When he told Y/n about it the doctor only grinned whiling telling him that his students tripled because of his good looks and not because of his lesson, but Thomas refused to believe his words and continued his teachings, oblivious to the fact that his husband was in fact correct and that majority of his students were only there for him.

“Is the professor available for a date?”

Thomas is startled by the sudden question, looking up from his paperwork to see Y/n standing on the other side of the desk, hands inside the pockets of the jacket he wore while a smirk spreads across his face.

“I have some papers to grade, but I can leave that on hold.” Thomas smiles in return while putting his stuff in his brief case while the doctor waits for him. In the last sixty years, Thomas never would have thought that he would see the world advance in such a way, watching the newer generation make changes to their own future, seeing things that he never thought he would see.

Even though Thomas was still stuck with his old ways he tried his best to fit in with the new world, having aged just a bit but not a lot to show how old he was really getting. He was in his hundreds alongside with Y/n, sticking together.

Once Thomas is done putting the papers inside his brief case along with the laptop he bought awhile back due to his old one no longer working properly. “Shall we go?” He raises a brow to Y/n who chuckled. “I’m always ready.”

He locks their arms together as the two walk out of the empty room.

[genshincreatorau]

CreatorAU Headcanons Part 1

【summary】 — some general headcannons on the subject of this AU and then my idea of how your visit to mondstadt would go.

【contains】 — clingy genshin men . flirting?

【characters】 — Venti . Diluc . Kaeya

this is just some general knowledge about my version of the CreatorAU that I follow for my writing.

The Reader wakes up in Teyvat after the events of the game, meaning the traveler and their twin is nowhere to be found. having already left.

The Reader and the Creator are not exactly the same thing, while the Reader is from our world, as they are just you. the Creator is a consciousness that shares your body.

The creator is so deeply interwoven with your own mind that it might as well just be the memories of a previous life. one that you've now returned to!

The Reader has seen everything just like how we see it in the game all the way up to the Fontaine quest. before they got isekai'd and wake up sometime after the end of the game.

Now the only pressing matter left in Teyvat is the arrival of their one and only Creator. (that's you!)

the worship of the creator is not as wide spread as you'd think. it's different with each region.

it all depends on how much power and influence your acolytes hold in their nation.

now that all the boring lore stuff is out of the way, onto the character Headcanons!

Mondstadt

the people of mondstadt generally don't know much about you as the creator, nor is it really that deep into your worship.

however the same can not be said for those you've shared a connection with via the intertwined fates.

each of your acolytes expresses their devotion in different ways and the ones in mondstadt tend to take it a bit more lightly then say the ones in Inazuma.

Venti

Venti is the first to greet you when you arrived.

when you come to visit the land of freedom he is quick to show his face.

greeting you with a bow and a cheeky line about how he'd been wondering when you'd pay him a visit.

you in your current state aren't able to manipulate any of the elements so he is happy to help you move around more freely.

he'll give you a tour of the city, this bard is at your service, entertaining you with songs that tell tales of his people.

After you get approached by Jean and Diluc, your attention wanes off of him and he might just have whisk you into the air. gently placing you both in the arms of his statue. a fitting place for you if he does say so himself.

you fit so perfectly in his arms. don't worry, he let go.

you won't get a straight answer as to why he brought you here but its not hard to guess.

he'll redirect your attention to all the points of interests across Mondstadt. an arm not so subtly wrapping around your waist as he points out the places he could take you to.

Diluc

his first attempt to approach you was cut short by the bards childish whims to have you to himself.

he had come to speak with you about your stay in Mondstadt, ready to offer you lodgings at his Manor.

it was only fitting that someone as important as you were to stay with him, a noble of high esteem.

not to mention the fact that he did not trust the Knights of Favonius with your safety. especially with the fatui still lurking around.

that's why he'd approached you when he noticed you speaking with Jean. unfortunately, he did not get the chance to bring up his offer.

no matter, if he knew Venti (and he did) then he'd be by angel's share come evening.

so he stayed in town, taking a shift at the bar and giving Charles the night off.

and just as he'd thought the infamous bard was quick to show his face, hand in hand with you and insisting you try the dandelion wine.

The drinks were on the house that night, if only so that he could have enough time to make a proper introduction. without Venti taking the spot light.

Diluc made sure not to waste any of your time. getting straight to the question at hand on where it is you were planning to stay during your time in Mondstadt.

it didn't matter if you had plans to stay somewhere or not, he'd still make his offer for you to stay at the winery.

Whether you'd accept his offer was up to you.

but keep in mind, your decision would determine whether he'd get to sleep at home that night or if he'd stay up patrolling the streets of Mondstadt.

Diluc would stay with you until it was time to close, either escorting you to the Winery where there would be a proper meal and a bed waiting for you.

or he'd simply escort you to where ever else you'd decided to stay for the night.

this gesture, while genuine, also served to let him know exactly where he'd need to be patrolling that night.

he'd spotted the fatui following you around.

he didn't care if they we're simply watching you to reporting back on your well being, or if their intentions we're to steal you away.

he'd be rid of them either way.

they had no business being there.

at least at the Dawn Winery he could rest easy knowing you we're safe, resting in the room just next door.

...

he could still feel where your hands had rested on his arm while he escorted you.

Diluc hoped he'd be able to take a nice long walk with you around his Manor the next morning. you were pleasant company.

Kaeya

now Kaeya has a special place for you in his heart.

and no one else in mondstadt would ever truly understand why.

because his knowledge of you went further then most of your followers.

because back in Khaenri'ah, they didn't worship any of the Seven Archons. They worshiped you.

and although you might not remember the sacrifice you had made, and no one cared to inform you about what had happened. he'd still show his gratitude in any way he could.

he'd known that getting some time with you would be difficult when everybody would be vying for your attention.

so he had decided to postpone his introduction until the evening of your arrival.

suggesting to Jean that offering you a place to stay at the Favonius headquarters was the best course of action.

hence his disappointment when she returned with the news that she had been unsuccessful.

but apparently they weren't the only ones to make the offer. his brother was doing the exact same thing.

so, when he caught wind that you had indeed stayed at the dawn winery, he'd made his way back home.

he thoroughly enjoyed the look he'd gotten from his brother when he interrupted your stroll around the garden.

Diluc seemed so agitated. it was so amusing.

he stayed there the entire time. making conversation and putting on the charm.

though it wasn't until you walked back inside the manor that he took the time to properly greet you.

holding his hand out to you as if to shake it, only to plant a kiss on the back of your hand.

he had lingered just long enough for you to question if he was truly just being polite, it seemed almost purposeful.

as if to savor it.

this didn't go unnoticed by Diluc, and it seemed to burn up whatever patience he had left.

they didn't get into a physical fight, but the tension was palpable and you'd decided to take your leave before anyone got hurt.

heading back towards Mondstadt to continue your exploits in the city.

【notes】 — this got pretty out of hand, i only meant to write something short for each nation but instead you got Mondstadt and three of its people. well! if anyone's reading this and would like to request specific characters or scenario then go for it!

[fandomfuntimem]

MORE DOAI X RE IDEAS. INCLUDING BOTH CANON DOAI AND AUS!!!!!!!!

Canon Doai:

I made it that eastridge was stuck stagnant in time due to being cut off from the world in the sitcom au mostly as a way to explane why Leon is so advanced compaired to Alex. But since Alex is dead in canon, the canon crossover does not have this excuse, so Leon shows up in a more modern Eastridge.

Leon isn't there for an assigned mission. He has had nothing to do for a long time. After finding an old photo album he decided to find out what happened to Alex, who whent missing.

Leon eventually gets the tapes. In a situation where this is an actual game the tapes would be found over time. slowly revealing what happened to Alex.

Unfortunately since DOAI isn't finished i dont know how to continue this spacific version of the crossover. This deffinately would be a more psychological horror game tho. Leon facing hallucinations and memories.

Sitcom Au (i thought about this one the most so get ready):

Eastridge is cut off from the rest of the world as a way to contain the veldigun issue. Stagnant in technology and knowledge.

The Lankmann foundation works with the Umbrella corperation. Veldiguns were accidentally created through the mix of Las Plagas and Mold. The two companies want to harness that power. (Im not very up to date on the Veldigun lore. But i like the idea of them being unholy mixes of parasitic aliens and hive mind particles)

Leon, Chris Redfeild, and Ashley (who joined the agency after graduating from college) are sent on a mission to help the Lankmann foundation (their connection to umbrella is not known). Leon was told both his cousins were eaten by the eastridge demon and is seeking revenge.

Leon and Ashley do somehow eventually catch Clyde. But before Leon can kill it Alex saves it. They slap the shit out of Leon with a plant of wood or bat or something, and gets in to a suffle with Ashley (i imagine Ashley and Alex are decently matched, Ashley is only a bit better. Alex is hard to fight tho because they are untrained and unpredictable). Leon eventually recovers and breaks Ashley and Alex up. Alex finally gets to explane everything

Leon joins the crew, Ashley is inbetween, and Chris believes Leon is under their control or something.

Idk from there.

Specimen 03 (Veldigun timeline):

Starts the same as the sitcom au.

Leon begins experiencing hallucinations. Hallucinations include Alex yelling down the hall, whispering in his ear, walking out of the corner of his eye, disappearing behind doors, tapping his shoulder. Alex says things like, "help me," "follow me," "over here," "come find me," "I'm here."

Leon eventually follows the hallucinations (very against Chris and Ashley's wishes.) And discovers Veldigun Alex locked up.

Leon learns the truth and begins working against the foundation.

Idk how to continue from there.

Thats it :D

If you want to add your own ideas or own aus to the list, go crazy. I just wanted to ramble about my ideas.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Special angst. Featuring touch-starved Special, homemade quintessence fuckery and lore, basically Special can't touch anyone or they die, Omega and Delta try to help.

CW : Angst, like pretty heavy angst I think, Hurt/comfort, talk of death

Ghouls are social creatures. Not all to the same extend, not all in the same way, but the fact remains : ghouls thrive in eachother's company, in the knowledge that someone, somewhere, is waiting for them, ready to welcome them.

And, ghouls are physically affectionate, as a result of this need to be close and feel surrounded by loved ones. Of course, it's a generic rule, and it doesn't applie the same way to each individuals, but, most of the time, ghouls live off of casual touch, hand holding, hugs, cuddles, clasps on the shoulders, arms slung around waists, tails intertwining.

It's Satan's best joke, really, that Special can't even have that.

That he's so fucked up that not only no one bears to be in his presence, but he could also kill the poor ghoul who'd pity him enough to try and give him a hug.

Because Special's elements are all pulling him in different direction, trying to evade the too tight confine of his body, weak fire sorrowfuly begging to be smothered out, destructive quintessence furiously grasping at every bits of vital energy it can find, literaly sucking the life out of anyone stupid enough to have any kind of skin-to-skin contact with Special.

At least it's vaguely less awfull now that he managed to contain the devastating effect of his quintessence to his body - the screams of agony of the people who tried to approach him after his summoning, Omega's pained grunts as he backed away, the soft blanket he had held out for Special falling at his feet, the sheer terror on the ancient ghoul's face as he watched the humans unfortunate enough to be in Special's quintessence's range dropping like fly, oh, Special remembers it all so well.

Six Siblings died that way, simply because they were standing too close to him. Omega was, too, and is only alive because of his highly resistant nature, allowing him to stumble back in time.

It took weeks of sitting across from Omega, safe distance between them, training relentlessly to try and tame his quintessence, before Special could evolve around people without draining them. But it worked.

Provided he stays dressed head to toe, not a silver of skin showing, of course.

Special could, theoretically, be on the recieving end of ghoul's typical affection, the soft nudges, pats and caresses rythming their lives, long as no one makes contact with his skin, long as all those displays take place through a layer of clothing.

But then again, Special can't blame them for being wary, and prefering to stay away altogether. They're right, after all. You never know what might happen, if Special won't suddenly lose control and kill everyone in a three meters radius just by existing.

Special hasn't see anyone in days. Omega said he'd come by, but he hasn't yet. Special vaguely remembers something about Delta the...water ghoul, right ? Well, one of them anyway. There's a lot of those around, Special keeps forgetting who's who, doesn't see them enough to properly remember. He sticks to the dark corners, only goes out in the dead of the night, only watches the other ghouls from afar, except maybe for Omega.

But Omega's not here, hasn't been here for too long, busy taking care of Delta, whatever that means. Special wonders if he'll come back. Special wonders why he needs Omega to come to his room, why he can't bring himself to get up and go find the quint by himself. It's not like it's forbidden or anything. He just can't do it, the thought of opening his bedroom door in the middle of the day strictly unfathomable.

No, Special, at least during the day, needs someone to open it, someone to drag him outside if he really is needed, like for interviews, because apparently he's the only fucker who agreed to do them when neither Papa nor Omega are free.

A third choice, that would probably be even further down the list of candidates if it wasn't for his uncanny ability to entertain humans, with jokes and crudes, snarky remarks masking the cracks of his shattered soul.

So Special waits, sitting motionless in the middle of his bed. He hasn't seen anyone in days. He hasn't been touched since forever. No, that's not true. Omega cupped the back of his head the last time he was here, protected by the mask and balaclava Special always has to wears, and pressed a kiss to the metal covering his forehead.

It had nearly unraveld him.

Special doesn't know why Omega still bothers with him, what sick sense of responsability pushes the quint to visit Special as often as he can bear, why he insist on being so patient, so gentle, smiling with sadness in his eyes.

Special doesn't want pity. But he could never tell Omega not to come back.

His hair is getting too long. It's itchy in the back of his neck, keeps getting stuck in folds of fabric. Special shifts uncomfortably, thinking about stealing a pair of scissors and chopping it off himself. It's always a delicate task, cutting his hair : he's not good at it himself, but whenever Omega's doing it, he has to be extra cautious, avoiding any contact with Special's scalp, not even able to properly run his fingers through it. Special's hair is never perfect, always a bit messy, as a result, but now it's even worse.

He really needs Omega to come back.

It hits Special like a freight train.

He needs Omega to come back. He needs to hear his voice, to see the lines and creases on his face, the tired slope of his broad shoulders, the softness of his eyes. Special needs his tentative, fleeting touches, needs to talk to him, needs to be carefully held, even if it's all tainted with Omega's guilt, obligation and pity.

He needs to know Omega hasn't moved on, hasn't chalked him up as a lost cause, that Special hasn't lost the only comfort life ever granted him.

A knock startles him out of his thoughts, his whole being shaking with relief at the familiar pattern.

"Spesh ? Can I come in ?"

Special nearly sobs. His voice scratches in his throat.

"Yes."

Omega slips in the room. He's maskless, and Special drinks him in like a ghoul starved. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept in days, but. He's smiling. Omega is smiling, wide an bright, eyes gleaming. It makes Special's own lips pull in an unfamiliar direction, up up up, until concealed under the mask, his mouth weakly mimics Omega's.

"I have good news for you, Spesh. Really good news. Would you let me bring someone else in here ?"

Special visibly flinches, though still half frozen, cossed-legged on the bed. Omega's face softens in that way Special yearns for.

"It's okay, it'll be fine. I promise. Do you trust me ?"

Special doesn't need to think about the answer, nodding with more conviction than he ever displayed before. It gets a soft chuff out of Omega.

"Attaboy."

The quint moves with a grace Special envies, reaching for the door and opening it like it's the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, to him, it is.

The ghoul that steps in looks just as tired as Omega, if not more, but is also sporting a smile, hair an absolute mess, looking like it got chopped with absolutely no regard for the aesthetical result, as uneven as it is unruly.

"Spesh, this is Delta, remember ? Delta, this is Special."

Special blinks, unmoving as a statue, as he often is. Sometimes, he thinks that if he keeps perfectly still, the universe will forget that he is supposed to be, and simply let him stop existing.

Delta. Yes Special remembers. He doesn't smell like most water ghouls, though, it's quite disarming.

"Hello, Special," Delta breathes, barely above a whisper, "it's nice to officially meet you."

Unsure of what to do with that soft tone, with how genuine Delta apparently is, Special looks toward Omega, silently begging for guidance. The quint goes to sit next to him, one hand brushing his back ever so slightly. Special has to bite his tongue to contain a relieved whimper.

"He's here because we discovered something, and I have a theory," Omega explains.

Delta is standing straight, hands folded behind his back, withstanding Special's wary scrunity with an easy smile. Something about him is...off, Special notes. It's not necessarily bad, but it intrigues him.

Delta looks like a water ghoul. Blueish tint to his grey skin, gills, needle sharp fangs, webbed fingers, a few fish-like scales visible on his forearms. And yet...

Special doesn't realize he's leaning forward until Delta tilts his head in amusement. He leans back immediately, clasping his gloved hands tighter on his lap.

"I think," Omega goes on, "that he might be able to touch you without consequences."

It's instinctive, the way Special stiffens, shaking his head desperately at Omega, clearing his throat to find his voice again.

"No, no, no, Megs, it'll end up badly-"

"Listen- listen to me, Spesh, listen," Omega interrupts his panicked babbling, craddling his masked face between two big hands, "i'm not pulling this out of my ass, okay ? Delta here, well, we needed a new quintessence ghoul, at least for a little while, until we could summon a new one, and...Delta volunteer for an...elemental transition of some kind."

Special blinks, shaking in Omega's grip. Well, that explains the funny feeling, the strange scent.

"But...Delta's still water," Special rasps. Omega hums, nodding.

"Yes, but not exclusively. He's not...quintessence either. It's more like...he became a vessel quintessence can pass through. He can channel it from the outside, dig it from the source rather than something within him like us quintessence ghoul do, quite literaly pull it from thin air, let it flow through him, and release it."

Special frowns, trying to wrap his mind around all this.

"But...raw quintessence, the one that is everywhere, is impossible to access to unless you are a quint, because your quintessence connects you to it, opens you a door. Right ?"

It's more words than he's spoken in weeks outside of interviews, but excitement suddenly buzzes in his body, brain finally feeded something to think about, to analyse, to study. Special is a cerebral creature, no matter what people might thing, and such an incredible discovery makes him feel almost alive.

Omega laughs, a breathless, amazed little thing.

"I know. But, apparently, we managed to crack that door open for Delta. He doesn't have much control over the quintessence he releases, but it's enough for the Clergy, for now."

Special glances toward Delta from the corner of his eyes.

"That's...you wrote it down, right ? Records of this could be incredibly useful-"

The smile he gets makes Special's heart miss a beat. Omega looks so fond, so full of love, it's almost painful.

"I did. I'll hand you my notes. But, back to you. What your quintessence does, is devouring energy out of living things-"

Special hangs his head down, shame creeping up his spine, wrapping around his throat.

"Hey, none of that, Spesh," Omega soothes, pulling his head up by the metal point of the mask's chin, "let me finish. What if someone was full of an energy they can fully dispose of ? If someone could let your quintessence take without it harming them, that means they could touch you. Delta could touch you."

Special blinks.

"But...you can't touch me."

"Because your quintessence takes the one at my core - drains me dry of a source of power so entangled in my being that losing it would mean losing me. But Delta's quintessence doesn't come from him."

Slowly, Delta comes closer, kneeling by the bed, offering his bare hand to Special, smiling, and Special- can't understand why. Why anyone would willingly take such risks - first the attempted elemental transition, now this.

Omega brushes Special's shoulder.

"Please, try it. I know...how hard isolation is for you. Please, sparkle, try. If anything goes wrong i'll pull Delta away before any real damages can be done, I promise."

The coppery taste of blood hits Special's tongue, and it's the only reason he's aware he's biting his lip. Then Delta talks.

"I volunteered, Special. I know this is going to work. I trust Omega's theory, and. I think I can trust you, too."

This time Special does sob.

"If I hurt you..."

"You won't. Give me your hand, Special, it'll be okay."

And Special is terrified. Terrified that it won't work, that he'll hurt Delta, who seems the nicest ghoul you could ever wish for. Terrified that it'll work, that the one time he manages to touch someone without killing them will kill him, that all it would take would be a brush of skin against his own to destroy him.

Despite all that, Special slowly, oh so slowly takes one glove off, revealing too-pale skin and twitchy fingers. Delta' smile widens, then the air shifts a bit, starts blurring around him. One of his eyes turns purple, his skin shimering slightly.

"It's a bit like holding my breath," the water (?) ghoul explains, "i can't keep it for too long, maybe a couple of minutes, after, i have to release it. Open the valves, kind of. But, if I just keep them open, just let quintessence flow in and out freely, like this-"

Another shift in the air. The shimer on Delta's skin dims, his features relaxing.

"Then I can keep it that way as long as i like, effortlessly for the most part. That's how we can touch. I'm ready when you are."

He's going to do this. Special is going to do this. His hand is shaky when he wraps it loosely around Delta's - ready to pull away at any moment - but the second their skin makes contact, he gasps and can't help tightening it.

Delta doesn't flinch. His skin glints a bit more, but that's it. Special's quintessence is hungrily drinking in the one flowing though Delta, but he doesn't need it. He can let Special take it.

Salt. Salt on his tongue, now. Special is crying. Holding onto Delta's hand for dear life, shoulders shaking, Special is crying, the water ghoul shushing him softly, thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

Omega helps unclasping the mask, watching with tears of his own as Special takes it off, throws it somewhere, who cares, where the balaclava and second glove quickly follow.

Delta opens his arm, still not letting go. Special sobs so hard he's sure it's going to turn him inside out, slidding off the bed and into Delta's firm, tender embrace, burrying his face in the water ghoul's neck, finally able to touch, to feel, truly feel.

He can't see it, but Omega's crying in earnest now, Delta fighting tears as well.

Special isn't okay. Special might never be okay, Delta might be the only person he'll ever get to touch, it might stop working at some point, there might be a catch, but oh, Special doesn't care.

He'd trade his infernal eterinity for this moment in time, folded in arms that hold him like something precious.

[just-barely-a-somebody]

I’ve got a take on a prohibitedwish/fionna and cake pirate au that I thought of while listening to music and will never write a full fic for, so I just wanted to write out the ideas I had for funsies

It starts at night when Scarab, a feared pirate captain, kidnaps Prismo, son of the navy’s head general, to be used as a bargaining chip to save Jake from being hung.

Prismo has befriended an owl (Cosmic Owl ofc) and it follows them as Prismo’s taken away. On the ship, Fionna and Simon are ready for when he returns and they have Prismo tied to the mast to be clearly visible.

With no better way to help, Cosmic Owl attempts fly in and attack Scarab. It isn’t very effective when Scarab manages to grab Cosmic Owl by the claws. Scarab questions Prismo about the owl and Prismo panics to explain that Cosmic Owl was some of his only company.

Begrudgingly, Scarab sends Fionna to get something from below deck. Fionna returns with a small pouch. Scarab takes a pinch of colored dust from the pouch and blows it into Cosmic Owl’s face. Prismo’s worried about how it might hurt his eyes when Cosmic Owl sputters and is now *magically* able to speak (the first thing he says is probably yelling at Scarab to let them go or something before being like ‘wait oh shit I can talk’). As Prismo and Cosmic Owl are both coming to this realization, Cake comes up from below deck and makes a casual comment abt how great two way communication is (ref to what the squirrel said to cake in fionna and cake).

^that’s like the closest thing to an actual scene I’ve thought of

so more general lore just laid out

Meet the Crew (and learn the lore):

Scarab- captain, helmsman (does the steering). He is the owner of the boat, and is the one to decide who gets to join and who doesn’t. To his own annoyance, their safety is top priority. He claims it to be because they’re already such a small crew, and cannot afford to lose any more (but really he’s grown attached, though it would take a significant amount of inebriation for him to admit it). He carries an unassuming cane everywhere because of its magical ability to transform into a weapon (his crystal from fionna and cake but pirate themed). Previously a bounty hunter, he formed the crew after a target got the jump on him and left a scar slashed across his back. Now they search for magical artifacts and treasure to get by.

Simon- navigator, cook, surgeon. He takes care of everyone’s wellbeing and responsible for most technical stuff. He joined the crew in pursuit of knowledge about the treasures out there to be found. Years ago his long time girlfriend Betty sacrificed herself to save them from the kraken that rose from sea during a large battle at sea. She did it by using one of their treasures to fuse with the kraken before it could sink their ship, and the part of her that remains now allows them to cross its territory unharmed. He still misses her, and drops small offerings/gifts that he thinks she might like into the water when they pass over.

Fin- master at arms. Fin is well trained in combat and responsible for teaching the others how to handle themselves. He and Scarab are well matched when they duel, with most ending in a draw due to an interruption eventually requiring their attention. Growing up he was an orphan living on the streets with his only friend being his dog Jake. They were thieves to get by, and one day stumbled their way into finding the sack of magic dust that allowed Jake to talk. One day they stole a relic from bounty hunter Scarab that granted Jake his stretchy powers. They were caught in the act, but became the first to be recruited by Scarab as he saw their potential. Upon Jake's capture, he has become dead set on saving his best friend.

Jake- Cabin boy. With his stretchy powers he improvises ways to help the crew or hold together the ship. He met Prismo by chance and got to know him well enough to find out he didn't like his life stuck on land. They became friends before Prismo knew he was a pirate, but things went downhill when Prismo's father caught them and had Jake arrested. Stuck in jail, his only knowledge of what is happening is through the complaints of Prismo's father blaming Jake for Prismo's capture. Safe to say, it's the only reason he has yet to be hung.

Fionna- Rigger, Swabbie. She and Cake are the most recent addition to the crew. Like Fin she was an orphan before being recruited, and was the same age as he was when he was recruited many years ago. She reminded Fin of himself, though she was much more eager to be a pirate, so he convinced Scarab to allow her and Cake in. As the youngest in the crew and filled with a need for adventure, she often is the first to rush in without thinking things through. This has gotten them into troubling situations before. To make up for it, she is doing her best to learn how to fight from Fin so that she can properly defend herself.

Cake- Swabbie. When she joined, she was given the same magic dust that Jake had. In Jake's absence, she has had to learn how to use the stretchy power relic that he left behind on the ship. With some big shoes to fill, she makes it her business to keep others positive/entertained (this has yet to work on Scarab)

Not sure if there should be Bubblegum and Marceline or Gary and Marshal, or both, so feel free to imagine their inclusion however you prefer. Coming up with this stuff is hard, okay?

Prismo- hostage. Prismo lived most of his life under control of his strict father, and began sneaking out at night to live his own life. With little friends, he befriended an owl that happened to nest outside his window. One night he met Jake and they got along well, meeting up every night for a week until Prismo's father caught them. Only then did Prismo find out that Jake was part of Scarab's crew which his father had been working tirelessly to catch. Prismo was grounded, and Jake was jailed to be hung. After his capture, Prismo sympathizes with their crew, and wants to support their goal of having Jake released. It takes a lot of convincing from Prismo to be allowed to roam free on the ship after they have set sail (which Scarab permits on the grounds that Prismo simply doesn't have the combat skill be able to seriously injure any of them even if he wanted to). Scarab is highly skeptical of Prismo's sympathy, and keeps a close watch that Prismo cant help but be highly aware of. Fionna reassures him that it's just how Scarab is, but with his nervously pushy attitude Prismo is slowly able to break down Scarab's emotional walls one by one.

If anyone does anything with this I'd love to see it