#and it's like. far from the worst anyone's said

[thetadispatcher]

Strasky glanced at Rook then back to Peter, they were nearly the same person if not for a few minor differences. Strasky knew he couldn't do the same type of work Peter was, nor would he be comfortable with it, but he had a feeling that was just due to his personal experiences. "Sometimes it feels more like I attract troublesome things, but I can live with that." He felt nothing would ever live up to what he'd experienced on PATHOS-II, so he was fine with whatever mess he found himself in. "And there's nothing wrong with being friendly, that's the best way to meet very interesting people." Or in Peter's case it was androids mainly if the home's residents were anything to go by.

But neither Strasky nor Peter felt like speaking on the subject with each other as they both still found it odd and a little unsettling to think they were practically the same person. And Peter had made it clear to Strasky he wasn't ready to approach the subject with how quickly he'd brushed it off and found something to busy himself, something he recognized as a tactic to prevent any possible thoughts on the subject by means of a distraction that took most of his attention.

"Shouldn't be too hard to reformat them so they can operate on an android's brain. I'd just have to see the one first." Peter paused as he noticed Strasky react to what he'd said, something which he felt was a little concerning but he wasn't going to comment on it yet, not until he had more information.

"But I have worked on enough custom and limited release androids to say that building one from scratch wouldn't be an issue." He had managed to get his hands on the equipment necessary to build custom parts for androids, so thankfully he wouldn't have to rely on any outside help from any former Cyberlife employees for the parts.

Dan and Peter both turned to look at Nines when Willow mentioned the authorities, the RK900 glanced at them before his LED turned yellow and his eyes took on a far away look. The LED returned to a calm blue after a moment as he refocused on the two looking at him. "I have found no law that prohibits what is being requested. So the work would be perfectly legal." Nines responded to the unasked question, knowing that was the reason they'd turned to look at him.

"Even if it wasn't, it probably wouldn't be the worst illegal thing I've done." Peter giggled as he turned his attention back to Dan who gave him a knowing look. "Tricking a Cyberlife employee and buying an android at fourteen is probably way more illegal then sticking a digital brain into an android." He smiled at Dan as he hugged the PL600's head, the android gently patting his arm in response.

"He really means a lot... How come?" Strasky asked, he decided it was time he asked as the relationship between the two was clearly familial, but he couldn't figure out just what role Dan fit into in Peter's mind.

"Well, I may call the androids here my friends, I only call two my brothers. Dan is one of them, basically the older brother I didn't know I wanted." Peter answered happily, showing he really didn't have an issue with putting an android into such a special role as most humans would. "Sure, Dan's only four years old, but he's way more of an older brother then a younger one."

Strasky nodded, he knew there was more to the story of how and why Dan was acquired, he just wasn't sure if anyone else cared to know so he decided not to press further. But after all he had seen with the relationship between androids and humans, he was happy to see one where both felt like they were equals.

"Cyberlife has already done something kinda like what you're probably thinking anyways. GV200 looks exactly like Kamski's half brother Gavin, his entire existence was basically being made in the hopes of Gavin running into him and getting upset about it. Which never happened before the company that owned him had him junked, turns out Gavin doesn't travel by plane like Kamiski thought. But I fixed him up, with Kamski's help as the parts were custom and that was my first time dealing with that." Peter sneered at the mention of working with Kamski, Dan had a similar reaction which made it clear the man hadn't made a very good impression with them.

"Getting accused of being the one to make him was not fun... Thankfully, Gavin believed me when I told him who had actually done it so he's only gone off on me for it the one time. Guess I should've known something was up when Kamski showed up after I placed the parts order, but it's hard to tell what the face of an android with no skin looks like until you turn them on." Nines smirked a bit at Peter's mention of Gavin's behavior, showing he had some level of experience with it.

Well, it was good to know they were going to meet even more androids by just being in Peter's immediate vicinity. At least so far only one seemed fine attacking strangers on sight, even though Bishop wasn't too keen on trusting Nines' either after the poor state he showed up in.

And knowing there was another nearly identical more deranged android around they hadn't met yet didn't please Bishop either. So he stood back with his arms crossed, keeping an eye out in case somebody else felt like joining them.

"It's funny, isn't it? You meet a whole new guy, but it's still you!" Rook said while giving Strasky an encouraging pat on the shoulder, "It looks like you guys have a thing for getting in trouble. But it's clear you're good at making friends too."

"Rook is something of an expert on the topic. However, we have more pressing matters to tend to." Willow chimed in, "To answer your question, it will indeed be custom work, but fortunately time isn't a concern."

"Yeah. We just want to know if you can put a construct into an android so they won't be stuck being formless entities anymore." Rook said with a shrug, "Those guys could really use having bodies again."

"You would be paid accordingly, both for the work itself and for the risk of taking part in such a project." A possibly illegal one, though Willow simply glanced at Dan instead of mentioning it out loud, "And we'd be thankful if none of this was mentioned to the authorities, or to Cyberlife, lest they start having more ideas they would come to regret later on."

[fungateshortcakes]

Tummy ache

Do I have kids? No. Do I want kids? Fuck no. Did I still write this because dad logan makes me feel a certain type of way? HELL YES

Pairing: Worst!Logan x single mom!Reader

Summary: It's late and your little daughter Laura won't stop crying and screaming, no matter what you do. You take her to your best friend Wade, who lives in the same apartment buildung. Will he and Logan be able to help you?

Wordcount: 3.4k

Warning/tags: english is not my first language, fluff, slight missunderstandings, Wade bc he needs a warning, implied sexual themes, friends to lovers, just cuteness, Laura doesn't exists as an adult like in the movie, rushed ending?, leave me alone I finished this at midnight

__________________________________

Logan was snoring on the couch in Wades apartment when loud, frantic knocks sounded on the door. He grumbled in annoyance as he turned, pulling a pillow over his head.

He heard Wade skip to the door in a pair of white underpants with hearts on them and a loose, grey wolverine fangirl shirt. "Must be the horse dildo I ordered" he spoke happily as if it was the most normal thing to say. Once Wade opened the door, the piercing shrieks of a baby crying echoed through the apartment.

You held your one year and a half old daughter in your arms, her face red as she cried into your shoulder. Wade noted that your hair was a mess and you seemed awfully tired. Well- it was late and on any other day, you and your daughter would already be sleeping. But there was clearly something that bothered her. She had been crying and screeching and in discomfort for an hour without you finding what caused it or how to fix it.

You tried feeding her, but she wouldn't open her mouth for the spoon. You tried reading to her, but she would always push away the books. You changed her diapers in case her sensitive skin was irritated by the dampness, but she hadn't peed. You didn't know why she was so distressed and nothing seemed to distract her from whatever it was that made her cry.

You were desperate. And while your best friend Wade wasn't really...fond of kids, which you couldn't blame him for, you still went to him for help. You never truly wanted kids yourself. But when the condom broke and your ex left you upon finding out you were pregnant, you were stuck with your baby. And now you wouldn't trade her for the world. Except in times where she was screaming with no appearant reason. "Hey Wade, I'm so sorry to bother you guys this late at night, but Laura, she won't stop crying. I've tried everything and I don't know what to do" you croaked, rocking the small child in your arms, shushing her to no avail.

Wade brought you inside so you wouldn't stay outside in the hallway any longer. No need for some neighbors to peek their head out of their doors to see what was going on.

In situations like these, Wade could be oddly serious and actually tried to help. He knew you were insecure because of your baby. You didn't want to be a nuisance or burden to anyone because you knew that your daughter could be a lot. Kids were high maintanance and you didn't want to make people feel like they were obligated to make room and drop everything once you arrived with your child. You couldn't expect from anyone that they were okay with you bringing your kid over. But Wade wanted you to know that even though he didn't like kids, you were his best friend and Laura had been nothing but a sweetheart so far. You were always welcome in his apartment.

Wade kicked Logan from the couch "Get your fat ass off the couch, the Lady needs a place to sit" he loudly said over Lauras crying. Logan groaned. You sat on the sofa and tried to take up as little space as possible. "Im sorry Logan, didn't want to disturb your sleep." you apologized meekly. "I can..I can move to the chair here" you muttered, pointing to an uncomfortable-looking wooden chair that replaced an armchair, which had recently been thrown out of the apartment due to mysterious stains and various rips and cuts in the fabric.

You had met Logan a few times since he lived with Wade and Althea. And you would be a liar if you said he didn't catch your eye. He was tall, broad and very handsome, pretty much right up you alley. But there was no way he was looking for a chaotic single mother that barely had her life together and struggled to raise an unplanned child because her ex left her. Yeah, no. You were miserable. Logan didn't need any of that.

Adding to that, he always seemed to avoid you when Laura was near. You just thought he didn't like kids, which was totally fair. Truthfully, Logan liked kids and had always wanted some of his own, but it just...never happened. With him being the worst wolverine and all.

Then why did he avoid you and your baby?

Simply said, he didn't want to scare her. Most kids looked at him like he was some sort of big, bad monster. Some ran away, some started crying, others hid from him behind their parents when he walked by. He wasn't good with children either because they never let him close enough before getting scared. He was afraid that Laura would react the same way like all children did. He didn't want you to back away once you realised that Laura didn't approve of him.

He couldn't bear only seeing you from afar.

As you were about to stand up from the couch, Logan stopped you. "No, its fine. Stay on the couch. I can move" he replied and you felt another pang as he moved away from you again.

Wade leaned over the couch, looking down at Laura who was still wailing uncontrollably. You sighed deeply, a throbbing ache behind your eyes. "Why won't you stop crying? What's wrong, sweetheart?" you nearly sobbed as well. You were so tired of this, so tired of this sound. You felt so helpless and stupid. "Maybe she wants some food? We have some left-over pizza, I can grind that stuff up into a slurry for her or something" Wade suggested.

You softly shook your head. "She doesn't want to eat, I tried. I also tried to read her a bedtime story, but she just push me away. I also changed her diapers but nothing helped" you rasped, ready to just fall asleep on the spot.

Wade reached down to get your crying daughter out of your arms. "How about you get some sleep while Wolvie and I take care of Laura? Maybe we'll find out what's rubbing her the wrong way." Wade said, cooing to your crying baby. You fell onto the couch, closing your eyes. "I can't just sleep when she is crying" you mumbled, clearly deadly tired.

"We'll take care of her. You go sleep" Logan drawled and his deep voice soothed you even more, made you even more sleepy. It was so easy to let your body betray your mind and you hated it. "Okay..." you whispered, too tired to argue. And before you could snuggle into the couch cushions, you felt two strong arms slip under your body and lifting you up as if you weighted nothing. You were so tired, you couldn't even gasp or protest as Logan brought you into Wades room, your senses enveloped with his scent.

He carefully lowered you down onto the matress, covering you up with a blanket. "Sleep tight, love. We'll take great care of your little one, so you don't have to worry about a thing" he drawled softly and only after closing the door behind him did he hope that you hadn't catched his slip-up, that he had called you love.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

In had been another two hours of constant crying and screaming. The kid must be exhausted from all the crying, but she still didn't stop. If you asked Logan, it became even worse.

"God, can you shut up for a minute? I am trying everything here!" Wade stressed, bouncing Laura in his arms and patting her back. "Don't tell your mom I said that" he whispered right after. Laura wailed and pushed herself away from Wade with her tiny hands, which were surprisingly really strong. She squirmed in his grasp, desperate to be set down.

"This is how you thank me? I've worked my ass off the past hour to get everything to your liking and now you push me away?" he grumbled, but set her down with a loud 'ouch!' after she started to scratch him.

Her tiny feet waddled against the livingroom floor as fat tears rolled down her chubby cheeks. She had a tummy ache, but she couldn't communicate that with anyone. There were a few words she knew and could say- cat, dog, mama. But she didn't have the words to say that something was hurting.

Logan sat on the couch and watched her as she stood a few feet away from him with her red face, screaming together the whole neighborhood. He sighed deeply, the sound making his ears ring. Then, out of nowhere, she waddled over to him.

"No, no, bub. Not a good idea. Get back to uncle Wade" he told her, scooting up the couch a bit more. He could have just stood up and walk away- why didn’t he? Laura stood between his legs now, demanding uppies from him as she cried. Logan shook his head, ready to call Wade from the kitchen, when Laura began screetching, stretching herself to Logan, standing on her small tip toes.

With a huff, he picked her up, his big and warm hands eveloping her small body. He leaned back against the couch with her on his lap. To his surpise, she quieted down. "You okay now, bub?" he asked her, jumping as she snuggled herself against his chest. Due to his mutation, Logan was always very warm. His whole body was like a heater and that warmth soothed Lauras tummy ache, unbeknownst to him.

The apartment was quiet now, only a few hiccups and sighs coming from Laura as she let her stomach ache be washed away by Logans cozy warm body. He didn't know what to do! One minute he was tortured by her screams and now she was napping on him. On him! Out of all people, she chose to rest on him.

"Is she dead!?" It was now Wades turn to yell as he came stumbling into the kitchen because it suddenly went all quiet. Logan didn't answer him nor did he move a muscle, too scared to wake your baby up.

"What the fuck" Wade blurted out upon seeing something he had never thought he would ever witness in his entire life. Logan shushed him, making Wade frown. He came closer, his face next to Lauras sleeping one "You little cheating slut" he sharply whispered, earning himself a shove from Logan. "Seriously, did you knock her out? Why is she sleeping all of a sudden?" Wade asked with crossed arms.

"I don't know. She wanted me to pick her up, so I did. Then she stopped crying and fell asleep" Logan explained, a warm feeling spreading in his chest as he watched the slow rise and fall of Lauras breath, her tiny hand tightly holding onto his shirt.

"Wow" Wade said. "You're the baby whisperer" Logan shot him a glare.

Wade went on a rant about how everything would have been easier if Logan took Laura from the start before finally falling asleep draped over the chair, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. For a moment, Logan thought about bringing Laura to you so she could sleep with her mom. But as he tried to peel her off of him, she started fuzzing and whimpering until she was laying back on his chest.

He sighed deeply. Well, gotta make the best of the situation, huh? With a grunt, he made himself comfortable on the couch and fell asleep with a broad hand securily holding Laura on top of him.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

You woke up well rested. Weird. You haven't slept this good since Laura had been born.

Laura!

You jumped awake, stumbling over some stuff in Wades room before you reached the door. It was quiet as you opened it and you were met with the sight of Logan, the fucking Wolverine, sound asleep with your daughter cuddled up on him as if he was some kind of big teddy.

Your heart soared in your chest, your stomach did flips and summer saults. And your pussy throbbed. Couldn't help it, seeing him with your baby did something to your ovaries. It was...so cute. You wanted nothing more than to snuggle up with them, trace patterns onto his pecks while Laura would squeak out an adorable smile-

"Mama" Laura squealed suddenly, flashing you a smile with her few teeth. "Hey there, baby" you cooed to her, kneeling down next to the couch to be eye-level with her. She smiled brightly, whatever it was that had bothered her yesterday completely forgotten. "You seem happy using uncle Logan as a pillow" you said to her, kissing her chubby cheek.

Logan started waking up, only registering Laura at first. "You slept well, bub?" he muttered with a deep sleep laced voice, gently rubbing Lauras small head with his large hand that easily fitted around the back of her head.

"Yes, I did. Thank you for asking" you giggled softly, amused by the way Logan nearly jumped out of his skin upon noticing that you were there too, witnessing how he went soft for your daughter. An embarrassed blush krept onto his face and he cleared his throat, sitting up and avoiding your gaze. "Sorry, she...she only stopped crying when she sat on my lap"

You smiled softly at him. "Seems like she really likes you, then." and I like you too, you wanted to add, but didn't. "She is usually not that touchy with people she barely met" you said and hearing your reassurance- the fact that Laura seemed to like him- it warmed his heart. But he would never admit that.

"Well, I guess I'm flattered" Logan replied with the hint of a smile, his gaze soft as you lost yourself in his eyes, Lauras babbling fading into the background. For a moment, you let yourself think about what could have been. This baby, it could have been Logans and yours. She could have been born because two people truly loved each other. Did Logan love you? You doubted it. But when he looked at you like that, you allowed yourself to be fooled.

"I don't know how you manage to fuck each other just with your eyes, but get a room. There are children present" Wade suddenly said outraged, covering Mary Puppins eyes.

You picked up Laura from Logans lap, holding her against your hip to bring distance between you, Logan and Wades teasing. Logan cleared his throat, clearly disappointed.

"I am so, so thankful that you guys helped me. I don't know what you did or what was wrong with her, but she seems all better now. Is there anything I can do to show my gratitude? you asked, gently bouncing Laura in your arms.

Logan shook his head "No need, bub" he grumbled in his deep voice. He would have done this a thousand times if it meant he could hold your baby in his arms as if it was his. "Make that creamy ass mac and cheese and my life is yours. That stuff tastes and sounds better than any pussy" Wade chimes in, making you laugh. You promised to invite both of them over for dinner sometimes this week and they happily agreed. Laura squeaked out a cute "bye!" before you went back to your own apartment again.

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

Ever since that day, visits to either Wades or your apartment became more frequent and Laura couldn't be happier seeing Logan pretty much every day. She would stick to his leg from the minute she saw him and to the last second before he left. It was adorable and made you fall even deeper in love with someone you could never have.

Wade made it his mission to steal Laura away from you and Logan. Partly because he wanted you to spend more time alone, and to teach her some words since he was her 'uncle' after all.

Laura sat on his lap, staring down at Wades phone. He looked over her head. He had a picture open that showed you, Laura, Logan and Wade. "And who is that?" he pointed to you, earning a delighted squeal from Laura as she pointed to your smiling face on the picture as well "Mama!" she babbled. Wade cheered her on, applauding her. "That's right, and that is Dada. Dada" he pointed to Logan. Laura recognized him, smiling brightly and giggling, but she didn't say anything. "Can you say that? Dada?" Wade asked in the best baby voice he could muster. But still, Laura wouldn't say anything. "Come on, say Dada. Da-da" Wade tried one last time, but Laura unwrapped himself from his arms to go and play with some toys scrattered on the floor. He huffed in frustration. It was easier to teach kids swear words than this.

Two days later, the day for the dinner came and someone rang your doorbell. You left Laura to play on her playmat and went over to the door, opening it a slit before realising that it was Logan. You fixed your hair with flushed cheeks, you hadn't expected him to come this early, you had just started the dinner preperations. "Oh, hey Logan. What are you doing here? Dinner was planned in two hours" you said, gingerly letting him into your apartment which you hadn't had the time to tidy up yet. Logan wasn't the guy to judge, but you still felt insecure.

"I thought I'd help you with the cooking and all. Look after Laura so you can work in peace" he said, knowing that he was just here to spend more time with you and Laura alone to give him the feeling of having his own little domestic family that he will never actually experience.

You smiled at him "That's very nice of you, but Laura is actually being very umcomplicated today" speaking of which, you showed him that your kid was silently playing with her toys. Upon noticing you and Logan, she squealed and stood up slowly, trying to keep her balance, before she waddled up to him excitedly. "There's my little pumpkin" he drawled, bending down to pick her up swiftly.

"Dada!" she giggled, making you an Logan stop in your tracks. "Did you hear that?" he asked you, looking over at you with a shocked expression. You frowned. You had never taught her to say that. "Sweetheart, who is that?" You asked the little girl, tapping Logans arm, just to be sure you hadn't heard her incorrectly. "Dada" she squeaks again, playing with his coarse beard.

You both looked at each other in disbelieve and for a second, you feared Logan woulf shove Laura into your arms and leave. "Look, I'm sorry. I don't know where she got that from" you tried to apologize, but the rejection from Logan never came.

He held her lovingly to his chest, giving her forhead a kiss. It made your heart pound faster. "No, it's okay" he reassured you, his large hand enveloping the back of Lauras head. "I...I could be her dad. If you want me to be" his question struck you like lightning, it was like a damn marriage proposal.

A marriage proposal you would never say no to. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, waiting for your answer and worrying he had overstepped.

"Yes. Be the father she never had. And please be the love I always wanted" you whispered, leaning up to kiss him. The kiss was soft, your lips brushing against the other and it was nothing you had ever felt before. You had kissed your ex- but never did it feel like this. So right. His free hand snaked around your waist, deepening the kiss until Laura decided to pull at your shiny necklace.

You smiled at her, taking her into your arms. "Do you want to play with daddy while I make mac and cheese?" you asked your daughter and minutes later, Logan had brought her playmat and some toys into the kitchen to sit beside her on the ground to watch and entertain her. It was like nothing had changed. Little did you know, Logan had accepted the little girl as his daughter way before today, even if you guys had never confessed.

And as you stole glances down to Logan, who was already looking at you with these half lidded bedroom eyes, you knew that after dinner, Logan and you would be trying for Lauras sibling.

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I really hoped you liked this, I feel like I've rusted a bit. Still got a lot of smut ideas and fics open that I need to finish. Wish me luck☹ if you saw any grammatical mistakes, no you didn't. Leave me alone im tired

Btw, thanks to @buck-star for motivation me to finally finish this <33

[eowynstwin]

So, Ikea and Bunny. I need to talk about them too, though no one has explicitly asked about them.

The truth is, I am still so fucking angry at those two. There is not a kind thought in me for either of them. Either my worst suspicions are true, and they conducted the whole affair from behind the scenes, or they were willfully stupid enough to swallow Myka’s story for the sake of their own blog engagement. Because I sure never heard of either of them before this happened.

Those two were needlessly and joyfully cruel to me. They languished in attacking my character, my maturity, my intelligence, the way I phrased things, or that I did not say what they thought I ought to. They called me a sociopath. Ad verbatim they said my brain "doesn't fucking work right."*

I have been VERY open for a while now about being autistic. I certainly already had it in my blog description by the time they came after me.

They went on to accuse me of poor reading comprehension, bullying, and abuse. They accused me of setting my followers on Myka. When I referenced one separate occasion in which I had a public disagreement with another blogger earlier this year, they spun that reference out into a HISTORY of influencing my followers to go after others I didn't like. (There was no request for clarification on my part before they took that and ran with it.)

Bunny even went as far as to explain what Myka's original post meant, the way a third grade teacher might, to prove her point about my lack of reading comprehension.** Bunny, just call me a fucking retard and be done with it.

Then, as people began to point out that they were in fact doing the same thing they accused me of doing, they had the audacity to remind everyone not to harass me. So it's okay when you forget about that, girlies, but guillotine for me because I forgot?

When the truth finally came out, they backpedaled REAL quick. I even got some apologies in my inbox.

Genuinely. From the bottom of my heart. Absolutely fuck the both of you. I didn't have you blocked until I left. In fact, the both of you FOLLOWED ME. You never ONCE tried to talk to me first anyway. You two saw your chance to tear me to pieces and you fucking took it.

Disclaimer, because I know these two people by now: this is no call to action for anyone to go after them. I doubt you could anyway, since all of their blogs have been inactive since June. (the-original-honeybun is crashtestbunny's main.)

But these two did permanent damage to my reputation within this fandom. Even if they were to delete every single post they made about me, there would still be versions of them circulating. Their blogs are still fucking UP, ostensibly for accountability, but exactly how accountable are they if they haven't actually been there to take it?

*Specifically Ikea. Scroll her blog if you need proof. The post is still up. **Also still up on her blog, crashtestbunny.

[ms--lobotomy]

@men-want-me-fish-fear-me gave me Lucius brainworms. Melt it

Summary: A hunt for a pet doesn't go as expected. Word Count: 762 Content Warnings: Smut, Pred/Prey, Lucius the Eternal, body horror, in my mind this is all consensual but I didn't specify in this fic so dubcon i guess, masc reader, public? Emperor's Children that are even worse than him. Also SMUT and potentially into DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT territory Image Credit: @squishyowl

The link in the chain snapped with a pop, and you knew it was time to run. You tripped over batteries and other such things he considered snacks, leaving marks and gashes in your bare feet. Fuck. You adjusted the small loincloth over your privates as you got back up. He was not only a Space Marine, but a gelatinous abomination and and affront to all gods but Slaanesh. You knew he knew you were free.

You opened the door, paying no mind to how loud it was. There were faces in the wall of Lucius's quarters, shrieking and yowling in pain.

"Run," one of them said.

"I'm fucking trying," you huffed under your breath as you left his quarters.

The ship was empty, eerily so. You felt the fleshy floor under your feet, and groaned as you started walking forwards. There weren't many full faces in here, thank goodness, but you felt a tooth every once in a while.

It wasn't long before you heard familiar, heavy steps. Slaaneshi mutations affected everyone in different ways; it gave Lucius fleshy hooves and made his tongue long and sandpaper-y. You shivered as you fumbled for another door, opening it with even more force than the last one.

There were the Emperor's Children, far away, but a flank was headed in your direction. You shrunk yourself back to avoid notice by them. The only thing more dangerous than Lucius was one of his brothers; in particular, any that didn't particularly like him.

You heard them picking up their pace. Shit. You looked for anything to hide in, hide behind. There was a tentacle sticking up from the floor, but in a cruel act of Slaanesh, it slipped back into the ground.

"What's over there?" one of the Emperor's Children asked.

You froze. You tried to stay still, but they bolted towards you with ungodly weapons in hand. Your eyes widened, and before you knew it, one of them grabbed you by the neck. You tensed up while he lifted you up to his face. His eyeholes glowed slightly, lighting up more as he spoke.

"Hmm..." he said, running a finger along your jaw. "Baseline."

Another one laughed. "Don't see those too often!" His helmet lit up just like his brother's.

The third one nodded. "Might be someone's pet. Be careful."

You were about to sigh with relief before the first removed his helmet. There was a horrid speaker where his mouth was supposed to be, and his eyes were two small black dots right where the bridge of his nose was supposed to be. You felt his breath? Noise? Upon your face. You shut your eyes, prepared for the worst, until a voice broke the silence.

"Hey! That's mine!"

You breathed a sigh of relief as Lucius came after you. His footsteps were rather squishy sounding, even more so than anyone's would be on this floor.

The Emperor's Children dropped you, scurrying away as he brandished his blade at them. His tongue was out, swaying behind him like a stray tentacle. He really did look like the galaxy's ugliest dog.

You tried to get back up onto your feet, but you stumbled on the fleshy ground of the ship. You felt him get closer to you, picking you up by your armpits. He looked you up and down, unhooking one hand to thumb at the bruise the first Emperor's Child left.

"I will deal with this..." he said, and you thought he was going to put you down for a second before he opened his mouth again.

"Later."

You nodded, going limp in his grasp. His green eyes surveyed you further, looking over every inch of exposed skin. He flicked the bruises and cuts on your feet, and you let out a yelp. His skin felt gelatinous on yours. It seemed he was melting as he touched you.

All of a sudden, he dropped you. You looked back at him, inching away. He chuckled.

"Go on. Are you going to run?"

You felt a lump manifest in your throat as your arms and legs failed you. You landed on a tooth near the surface of the floor as you went limp. That was going to bruise later. He let out a full on belly laugh, looming over you. He blocked out what little light there was in the hallway. He leaned down and licked your cheek with that sandpaper-y tongue.

"I'm going to fill you up with more cum than you have organs," he said, grabbing your ankle as you struggled under him.

"Pet."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

[orisaspirin]

My beloved's new worst low.

Pairing: Lucifer x MC Micah x Diavolo (implied)

Pairing: This is my Obey Me! AU, so much of it will be different from canon. Micah, an exchange student from the human world who's missing their memories of the said world, ends up climbing up the ladder of popularity among lust demons easily thanks to the demons having similar morality to humans. This doesn't go unnoticed by anyone but Lord Diavolo and his right hand man, the Avatar of Pride decide to act upon their… ‘concerns’ first.

Warnings: Minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Violence, murder, death, nsfw, consensual to dubious consent to non consent, non consensual voyeurism, implied background character deaths, choking, unhealthy dynamics, AFAB genderfluid Lucifer x AFAB non-binary MC, overstimulation, thigh riding, masochism and sadism, size kink, clothed sex, a few jokes about death and suicide.

Ding!

The notification sound of their DDD caught Micah's attention, a task Magical History classes have been failing to fulfill for about three hours so far. The dark brown walls and desks, confined space and lack of proper light sources aside from lamps and candles really created the perfect atmosphere to take a nap and the professor's monotonous voice didn't really help either. She would either explain the subject in unnecessarily great detail and end up missing the point entirely or a few demons on the front seats would start a conversation with her and nothing would be taught properly for that day. Micah couldn't blame their seatmates dozing off five minutes into the class, really. Not like the professor seemed to care anyway. 

They yawned as their grayish blue eyes turned to their DDD. They opened their chats, bright red lips curling up into a smile as they read the name of the interrupter. 

— Today at 17:36

Marcia 

hey cupcake <3

Marcia, a succubus they've been friends with ever since the beginning of the exchange program. She had invited them to her and her friends’ table at lunchtime once when Mammon abandoned Micah and they ended up having a great time with the succubuses. They even exchanged their number with the lust demons and kept hanging out with them, eventually growing more and more popular with the lust demons. 

Despite their housemates, the Avatars of Sin ‘expressing their concerns’ time and time again, Micah knew they weren't about to stop being friends with these girls anytime soon. Not only to spite the Brothers but because the succubuses were the only human part of the Devildom— not entirely human but close enough. They were just so easy to get along with. Micah didn't need to be reminded of the uncomfortable difference between morality of their world and the Devildom with the lust demons, which was like a miracle honestly. 

Maybe it was because succubuses and incubuses worked closely with humans without having to feed on their flesh and soul? Micah thought to themself but shook their head as another argument arose from their mind. No, that couldn’t just be it. None of the demons they’ve met so far absolutely needed human flesh and soul to survive, it was just a luxury meal for them. Maybe kind of like how celebrities will add edible gold to their food and all…? 

Oh well, no need to get too distracted now. They could simply discuss this with Mammon when they went home. 

Micah

Hey Marciii (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

You're bored in class as well?

Marcia

i had mathematics so i didn't even bother going to class lol

i was meaning to ask, can you look for julissa after class? 

me and the others tried texting and calling her but she's not answering. 

usually i would just assume she overslept or something but you can't help but get worried after she shared those dumb photos, y'know what i mean?

Dumb photos? Micah was left confused before the realization stuck. 

Julissa was a girl from their friend group who had taken a picture of Lucifer and Lord Diavolo walking side by side to the student council room and shared them on Devilgram, claiming she witnessed the two having sex afterwards. Of course it was all just a stupid joke but she still went into great detail— enough to believe her story if you're not careful about the plot holes. And of course, most social media users would rather die than be careful about what they read online so Julissa’s dumb little joke was spreading like wildfire these days. 

No one seemed to be willing to talk about it out loud though, a smart decision considering how the Avatar of Pride would react to being made fun of. Mephistopheles losing his place as the President of the Newspaper Club just because of some stickers he drew of Lucifer and Lord Diavolo was merely a mild example of what could truly happen to lower ranking demons— demons, to put it quite frankly, no one could care less about. 

Micah quickly typed an answer, putting their DDD on silent mode to prevent disturbing their seatmates. Normally, they couldn’t care less about some random sloth demons but there was a sloth demon they cared deeply for at the House of Lamentation. While Belphegor, the said sloth demon was used to sleeping through background noise, he would still get bratty about Micah paying attention to their DDD around him so putting it on silent mode around sleeping people somehow became a habit of theirs. 

Micah 

She didn't delete them?? 

Jeeeeeez is she suicidal or something? 

I mean, even if she is, she should've just hung herself or something. Surely that would hurt less.

Marcia 

beats me. 

you're free to give her a good beating if you do find her though ;)

Micah 

I'll keep that in mind ~

— End of conversation.

With a soft giggle, Micah turned off their DDD and began waiting for the end of the class, playing with their long, uneven and messy sandy blond strands impatiently. Luckily, the professor must've gotten bored as well and the class was dismissed ten minutes earlier than usual. Despite their growing impatience, they still decided to wait for their seatmates to wake up and gather up their belongings at their own pace. 

While they could use magic to shove them away and protect themself if the demons decided to pick up a fight, Micah would very much rather not end up in Lord Diavolo’s office for something as stupid as this. 

Honestly, they would rather not end up in Lord Diavolo's office for any reason. Even though their human world identity was still a mystery, it wouldn't take a genius to figure out they were bad with authorities. At least that was what Satan had to say about their rocky relationship with Lucifer (and the Avatar of Wrath never once tried to hide how ecstatic he was about it. Either that or Micah was good at reading people and wasn’t aware of it). 

Pretty soon, their seatmates left the class and Micah had time to wave at the incubus and succubuses who stopped by their desk to say goodbye. Seemed like the brothers were right, after all. They were growing quite popular among lust demons and this would surely bring consequences sooner or later. They weren’t quite sure what their current relationship with the Avatars was– Mammon would brag about being their ‘first’, Asmo and Satan would ask them out on dates and the rest of the brothers all would make advances in their own ways and Micah, being the attention glutton that they are, would happily accept it all but no one really confirmed anything. 

If they were dating all of the brothers at the same time, being too popular with lust demons would put their friends in danger for sure.

Knowing this and still hanging out with their friends was selfishness, was it not? Why were they doing this anyway, to spite the brothers? They made up all of their problems months ago so still holding a grudge felt childish honestly…

Hey, just when did this chain of thought turn from why they didn���t want to be sent to Lord Diavolo’s office for causing trouble in class to their relationship status? 

Whatever– this too would have to be discussed another time when they have the time to disassociate properly. Probably not anytime soon though. They had a grasp on the dynamic of House of Lamentation by now and they could say for sure they would never have one minute of alone time this afternoon or night. 

With a small sigh, Micah stood up and threw their bookbag on their shoulder, the charms and keychains attached to it jingling as they moved. Most of them were anime characters like Ruri-chan (who they admittedly grew attached to, even though they were nowhere near Levi’s level), May the Maid and so on. Micah thought it was funny how they absolutely did not fit in with their surroundings. 

As they walked through the gothic structure each step ached their knees, reminding them about the… accident they had while walking downstairs during lunch time today. And yesterday. And the day before that. 

Tripping on stairs was a common occurrence for them, so much so that the demons they’ve befriended, the Avatars and even the other exchange students would offer them help to prevent any injuries or embarrassing moments. They stopped wearing skirts just for this reason (meaning their glitter band aids were hidden underneath their pants. A shame, really) but still, better safe than sorry. If that meant anything in this realm, that is. 

As they passed the demons on their way to leave the building, they began thinking about where to look for Julissa first. She was a part of many clubs, which was probably why Marcia thought she had to be somewhere in RAD. She absolutely despised not being on time and missing club meetings and activities, so much so that she would force herself to attend RAD even when she’s sick. Micah didn’t have the succubus's schedule memorized and they didn’t have enough time to go through the entire building before one of the brothers come looking for them but they could text someone to–

Ding!

Another notification caught Micah’s attention, forcing them to snap out of their thoughts. They took their DDD out of their pocket and turned it on. Wasn’t it on silent mode when they got out of class…?

— Today at 18:02

Lucifer

Meet me at the Devildom History class right now.

Don’t be late.

Ah. This made sense, Lucifer probaby charmed their DDD when he noticed how often it would be on silent mode. They couldn’t help but groan and roll their eyes at the demanding attitude as they texted a reply.

Micah

Why? 

I have more important shit to do.

Lucifer

I highly doubt that.

You have five minutes until I confiscate your DDD. I’m quite certain it wouldn’t be the ideal if you wish to protect your high score on Ruri Tunes.

Oh shit. Teaching him about Ruri Tunes was a mistake, both Micah and Levi knew that but Micah never thought the eldest could ever use it as a weapon like this. On the other hand though, whatever he has in store must be quite urgent if he’s not even willing to wait for a bit longer despite knowing about their clumsiness with stairs. With a sigh, they texted a reply.

Micah

Fiiiiiiine.

I’ll be there right up.

— End of conversation.

And just as they promised, they were standing at Devildom History class’s door three minutes after their chat with Lucifer. Somehow they managed to walk the entire way without tripping or bumping into someone once— the fear of losing Ruri Tunes gave them the dedication and strength needed to do so for sure.

Lucifer opened the door right when they were about to knock, causing Micah to jump in their place. They really needed to get used to demons and their needlessly advanced senses…

“Come in.” The Avatar of Pride led them inside the class, his hand still hovering over the handle as he shut the door. Silently eyeing him up and down, Micah could see the eldest brother’s uniform was wrinkled and his hair was a bit out of place— something he would never allow to happen in the first place. His concealer and eyeliner was messed up as well, revealing the bags under his eyes staining his porcelain-like skin. He almost reminded them of Beel after a Fongol practice… Just what could’ve happened that forced him to be in this state? If his brothers created trouble yet again, the entire school would be aware so whatever happened must’ve been either minor or well hidden. However, their words died in their throat before they could even ask anything when they turned around.

There, sitting on one of the front desks with her face planted on the table was none other than Julissa herself. She seemed to be unconscious as she didn’t even budge when Micah entered the room. Shock crossed their face, their mouth dropping open slightly as they froze in their place, their book bag slipping off of their shoulder with a soft thud. 

They knew Julissa’s dumb joke wouldn’t go without a punishment but this just felt too soon, too sudden and too much. They tried not to think about what that punishment could be and kept telling themself it would be something mild— like detention, a social media ban or something. A part of them knew their denial lulled them into a false sense of security, that each lie they told themself would only add weight to the truth they would have to face later on but this was…

They weren’t prepared for this.

“No…” They mumbled, their mind too busy to even notice they were talking out loud. 

No, there had to be a misunderstanding. This had to be a detention or something, nothing even slightly close to what they thought. They were fine with joking around about the bloodshed they’ve witnessed in the Devildom but they dreaded even the thought of being a part of it. Even if it was just some random nobody who got too comfortable with social media, they didn’t want to be the one to let go of the rope of the guillotine. 

Just as they turned to Lucifer in a pathetic attempt to get reassurance, the Avatar of Pride wrapped an arm around their waist, pulling them closer to his large frame as his other hand held their chin up, forcing them to stare at the unconscious lust demon. Somehow the room felt icy but they could feel their temperature building up, causing their knees to give out. But of course, Lucifer didn’t allow them to fall. 

“Take a deep breath.” Said the Avatar of Pride, his voice as gentle as a lullaby. As if he was a mother helping her child stand on his own for the first time. They've never heard him talk to anyone like this before but unfortunately, their mind was too loud to even process it. “Repeat after me.” He learned down, his lips hovering over their ear. His whisper and hot breath only added on to their dizziness. “One… two…” 

“NO!” Micah screamed, ripping the Avatar's arms off of their body and desperately rejecting the fact that they weren't strong enough to push him off, he simply allowed it to happen. They turned to Lucifer and took a few steps back to face him properly. “I— I…” They stammered, grayish blue irises burning into crimson ones as they searched for the right words. The Avatar of Pride looked at them with an undeniable fondness, a look that could force Micah to pray for death right then and there. 

They were pathetic.

They needed more time. They just needed more time to prepare themself for this. 

“I refuse to be a part of this!” They declared but the weakness of their voice was enough to make them cringe visibly. “This is your job, isn't it? Why do I have to be a part of it?” 

No, no, no, it was only getting worse— the crack of their voice, the small sob they let out at the end of that sentence; each and every single evidence of vulnerability they failed at hiding felt like a slap on the face. Adding on to Lucifer's gentleness, they couldn't help but feel like a whiny toddler refusing to do his homework. 

It wasn't fair. None of this was fair.

Why? Why did it have to be now? Why couldn't he just wait for them to prepare themself?

The Avatar of Pride didn't budge at all, much like they expected. He put his hands on their hips and pulled them close to his chest, their bodies flushed together with no space between them. Micah could hear the Avatar’s heartbeat in his chest; at least a hundred times slower than theirs. He wrapped his arms around them, one arm holding them in place by wrapping around their waist, the other not so subtly groping their behind. They punched the Avatar and screamed their protests into his chest, the leather uniform jacket drowning out their voice so fast they couldn't even hear themself. 

“I’m sorry.” Lucifer spoke up again, his words causing Micah to pause and look up to him. “I know you weren't ready,” He continued as he began petting their head, pushing the blond strands off of their tanned skin. “but it's alright. You will be okay.” He smiled, a smile Micah couldn't find anything but cruelty behind despite its tenderness. 

It was cruel mockery, it had to be. Nothing was going to be okay after this. 

“Liar!” Micah snapped back. “I don't have to be a part of this! I don't want to!” They screamed, blinking away the tears that threatened to break out of them. 

This was pathetic. 

They had to die right then and there. 

For the sake of whatever pride they had left, they had to drop dead right in that moment. 

The Avatar turned them around to face the succubus and held both of their hands, leading them closer and closer to the girl. “Take a deep breath.” He said once again. “Repeat after me. One…” He said, holding Micah tightly in place expectantly. 

This was ridiculous. He couldn't just comfort them like a fucking baby and make them kill someone— someone who's only crime was literally just joking around! 

Though if they didn't play along, they would end up competing against Lucifer himself in a battle of wills and probably lose. Even if they did win, what could they do? The usual? Deny this ever happened, gaslight themself into believing it was all a bad dream or a misunderstanding and go through the same embarrassment all over again some other time? As long as they were a part of the Devildom, they would have to play by demons' rules and morals. They would have to spill the blood one way or another. 

“One.” Micah repeated, their voice barely loud enough to be a whisper. Lucifer took a step closer to the unconscious succubus with Micah wrapped tightly in his arms. 

“Two.” Said the Avatar, his hand not so sneakily fiddling with Micah's uniform jacket's buttons. Micah let it happen, even leaned their head back into Lucifer's chest when the dizziness threatened to take over once again. 

Deep breaths. One, two, three, four. 

Don't think about it. For the love of God, don't think about it. Pretend you're doing something else. Anything. Just pretend you're not taking her life. 

Even thinking about what was going to happen made them want to throw up. 

Still, they kept counting with Lucifer

“Two.” This time, their voice was just a bit louder as well. The Avatar took off their jacket and threw it on his shoulder, quickly wrapping his arms back around them and fiddling with their collar this time. 

“Three.” Lucifer kept counting, leading Micah one step closer to their unconscious victim while doing so. He undid Micah's (already not worn properly) tie easily and threw that on his shoulder as well. 

Was he growing impatient or was Micah imagining things?

“Three.” Micah repeated, taking one more step closer to end up in front of the desk. Lucifer gently took both of their hands and brought them to his lips to kiss their knuckles before grabbing their wrists. He led their hands to grab the succubus's shoulders, first pushing her up to face her properly and then wrapping their hands around her throat. 

And just like that, taking deep breaths proved itself to be useless.

“I can't, I can't, I can't!” They screamed, repeating the same word like a mantra. “Just call Barbatos or something! Please!” Lucifer leaned down as they cried out and hid his face on the crook of their neck. They could feel feather-light kisses around their neck and shoulders as well as gentle humming of the Avatar. 

“You can.” Lucifer replied firmly. “You may not be strong enough to eliminate a demon all on your own but you have magic to make up for it.” 

He was playing dumb. He had to be. He knew why Micah couldn't do it. 

But why? Why was he standing here, listening to them cry and scream about not wanting to kill this random nobody? Was he taking some kind of sadistic joy out of this? 

Was that why he looked so messed up? Did he chase this succubus just for the thrill of it? 

“Why me?!” Micah tried to break out of the Avatar's grasp but to their surprise, he didn't let them go this time. His grip on them tightened and while it didn't hurt, it applied just enough pressure to let them know they weren't leaving anytime soon. “Why can't you just choose someone else?” They groaned, a small gasp escaping they lips mid-sentence as they felt Lucifer sucking a hickey into the part of their neck their uniform failed to cover. The way it made their heart flutter only added on to their disgust but they couldn't deny it felt nice. 

“Stop.” They cried out, their distress gaining a soft chuckle from Lucifer. “I can't.” The answer was short and clear. “You have to learn.” He added, his knee slowly pressing on their crotch. Micah shut their eyes tight, as though actually trying to disappear. Their distress was overshadowed by Lucifer's affection and at this point, they've accepted that resisting wouldn't do anything. They just wanted to know why.

Before they would ask again, Lucifer answered their question for them. 

“Despite living with demons you're still attempting to cling onto a fake sense of humanity.” He whispered against their ear as he began rubbing his knee against them back and forth. “Me and Diavolo have been observing your…” He leaned closer to Micah, his chest flushed into their back. “...growth ever since the beginning of the Exchange Program. Yet I must admit, we both have been failing at keeping a professional distance with you for a while now.” He ‘confessed’. For Micah, he merely stated a matter of fact; they were more or less aware of the Avatar of Pride and the Prince’s infatuation for them yet they refused to acknowledge it as anything serious. 

“And I think we all know who’s at fault for that.” The Avatar stared down at Micah, the accusing tone gaining a groan from them. This wasn’t their fault. None of this was. 

They just needed more time! If they had more time, they would definitely plan for this. Definitely.

“Nonetheless, we noticed your lack of boundaries with lower demons such as this,” He urged Micah to strengthen their grip on the succubus's throat. “and decided to use it as an example.” 

All because they gave in to their denial, huh?

“It crossed a boundary that’s been made clear countless times.” He continued, taking advantage of Micah’s resilience breaking apart. “Disrespecting Lord Diavolo would result in a punishment it couldn’t even dream of so it should be glad it’s going out by your hand.”

For a moment, Micah’s mind seemed to calm down. Like they finally reached a solution. They would try again. After this kill, they would be prepared. They would observe their surroundings, calculate and study their interactions with their housemates, other exchange students and the royals carefully. They could forget about this kill— forget it ever happened and try again.

Just forget about it.

Act like it never happened.

And try again.

With those words going through their mind, Micah finally choked the succubus.

Lucifer hummed with a pleased manner as the succubus’s body went limp and fell back on the desk. With one arm still wrapped around Micah’s waist to support them, he grabbed their jacket from his shoulder and threw it over the succubus, catching their tie just in time to put it aside. As expected, the jacket did a quite poor job hiding the dead body. 

Though it was endearing, how small Micah was even when next to lower demons. With a soft sigh, he picked Micah up and sat them down on the desk next to where the succubus laid.

He held up his lover's chin with his thumb and index finger, taking in just how disconcerted they looked. Grayish blue eyes wide and unfocused, brows furrowed and lips shut tight as they hugged their body tight, still trembling from the fright. Seeing them like this was endearing though, they reminded him of his brothers after their first kills. At the time, seeing his loved ones in this state was devastating but now he was glad to have the experience. He gently grabbed Micah’s wrists and wrapped their arms around him, letting them hug him as tight as they could. 

“It’s okay.” He whispered. “You will be okay. Just let me handle this.” And luckily for him, Micah nodded against his chest, probably too tired to keep fighting. Either that or they just didn’t care anymore. He has been through both of these scenarios with his brothers and at the end, they always learned to play by the Devildom’s rules and let go of their weaknesses. While observing their interactions with his brothers, he noticed Micah fit in just fine with them so hopefully they would turn out the same. And if they didn’t, well, he and Diavolo would have plenty of time to fix that. 

Just as he was about to dissociate, he felt Micah’s hands slowly unzipping his pants. Their head was still buried in his chest and turned away from the dead body and while it was uncharacteristic of them, he could understand that they wanted some kind of distraction. Distraction that he was more than happy to provide.

With his lips curling up into a wolfish smirk, he took his DDD out of his pocket and texted his best friend.

— Today at 18:53

Lucifer

Make sure the door is locked this time. 

Ignoring the replies sent not even a second later, he video called Diavolo and set his device on silent mode. He put his DDD back inside his pocket afterwards but both he and Diavolo had charmed their devices to act as a type of portal a long time ago so he was quite certain his friend could see everything as clear as day. 

He took off his jacket and covered the dead body lying beside them with it after gently pushing Micah off of himself, wanting them to be as comfortable as possible despite the unideal circumstances. He then unzipped his pants and lowered them just slightly above his knees and let his turtleneck and gloves stay on. While he was busy with his own clothing, Micah had unbuttoned his shirt and carelessly threw it aside, gaining a small sigh from the Avatar. 

“Y— You’re okay like that?” They asked, pointing at his turtleneck and gloves. “Aren’t you gonna feel…” They paused. “Uncomfortable?” 

Lucifer, too distracted by the sight of their bare, tanned skin, merely shook his head as an answer. Their habit of falling down the stairs made itself clear even on their chest, they had small cuts and bruises everywhere but especially on their shoulders and arms. 

He ran his hands over their marks, his touch as gentle and light as a feather and crimson eyes glimmering with what could only be described as infatuation. 

Micah hesitated for a moment but slowly eased into his touch though they still didn’t move closer to him. He traced the mark he left on their neck and pressed a kiss on their sandy blond hair before undoing their belt and slipping off their shoes and pants. Before he could leave them aside properly, his lover grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down for a kiss. He gladly obliged and wrapped his arms around him, feeling up their back as he drowned them in passion and arousal. He has been dreaming of this moment for so long and now that it was finally happening, it was even better than his dreams. Their lips were so soft against his yet their passion equaled his as well. They had to hold tightly onto his shoulders to keep up with him, truly emphasizing just how weak they were against him. His pretty little lamb lying there just for him. 

He broke the kiss only when he felt Micah was running out of breath and pulled away to drink in how much he ruined them already. Their cheeks were a beautiful shade of red, their eyes teary and sparkling with the glow of his affection and still wanting more. “I love you, my little lamb.” He said as he reached for their panties, already wet and sticky. Black with red polka dots and lace decorating it, something Diavolo would favor for sure. He could only imagine what the Prince must be feeling at the moment. They would be lucky if the Devildom was still standing when they went further. 

He slipped their underwear off of their legs and right when he was about to put it aside as well, Micah stopped him with a sly smirk. “Keep it.” They said, “Put it in your pocket or something. A little gift to remember today, y’know what I mean?” They winked, gaining a soft chuckle from Lucifer. “Oh? Well I do appreciate the thought, my dear, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken if you thought this merely a one time affair.” He replied and without waiting for their reaction, grabbed their thighs and threw their legs over his shoulders. He slowly licked their clit, electing a soft gasp from his beloved as he dug his fingers on their soft thighs. The pleasure was already overwhelming, they were already rocking their hips back and forth to get more. Luckily, Lucifer was more than willing to spoil them. 

Already out of patience, he dug his tongue deeper into his lover’s pussy, licking and sucking them greedily as they trembled underneath him. They could already feel their stress washing away as they relaxed into the wooden desk— it wasn’t comfortable at all but Lucifer was doing everything just right to make them feel like they were floating. “Fuck— Lucifer, keep going!” They cried out, pulling their hair in a desperate attempt to ground themself. The pain only added on to their arousal however, leading them to tightening their grip on their scalp. The Avatar glanced at his lover, letting out a soft chuckle that stimulated them even more. They were writhing underneath him, trembling with pleasure helplessly and he could already feel his own panties soaking. 

He brought one hand close to Micah’s lips and pushed his fingers inside their mouth without warning, forcing his lover to suck and choke on the leather gloves. Their hands abruptly abandoned their scalp and wrapped around the Avatar’s wrist instead, desperately trying to push him away even a little bit as they gagged on his fingers going deeper and deeper into their throat.

He kept eating them out like it was his last meal alive and pretty soon, his lover screamed around his fingers, muffled noises vaguely resembling his name. Before he could even ask if they were close, Micah’s orgasm crashed them down, their nails clawing Lucifer’s arm desperately as they rode through their ecstasy. Their eyes rolled back into their skull, they were trembling with pleasure and their dizziness was coming back to them— although somehow it was much more pleasurable like this. 

Lucifer licked their juices slowly, so slow that it felt like torture. Right when Micah was about to try to kick him, he took his fingers out of their mouth to hold their thighs and bite into them. His teeth drew blood easily and he licked it just as ecstatically as before. It was so painfully easy to draw blood from them, he didn’t even have to use any jaw strength to bite down. 

“Lucifer— Lucifer fucking stop!” They screamed, pulling their hair once again to help them through the overstimulation. Their protests were left unanswered though, the Avatar didn’t even wait for a minute before he pushed his own panties down and climbed onto the desk to ride their thighs. He wrapped his arms around his lover and pulled them into a hot makeout session, moving his hips back and forth and he chased his own orgasm. “I can’t, my love—” He confessed as he broke the kiss. “—not when you feel so good…” He added, completely blissed out with pleasure. One of his hands grabbed both of Micah’s wrists and held them down as the other found its way into their clit and began rubbing it teasingly. His lover threw their head back, screaming out in overwhelming ecstasy and bucking their hips into Lucifer’s touch. They weren’t even sure what they wanted— everything was too much but also too good. 

“We’ll go for a second round.” Lucifer said between his moans, whispering into Micah’s ear as they were trying to ride another reaching orgasm. “Then a third…” He kissed their shoulder. “Then a fourth… then maybe I can calm down a bit.”

— Today at 20:34

Diavolo

One missed call.

One missed call.

One missed call.

[wolfwoocl]

‘Bearer of bad news’ is not the worst mantle he has donned. The Eye of Michael. His lips form the shape of those words with a loose growl held at the base of this throat. Two hundred years later, the bones of its founders ground to dust, and still, Nicholas will not let them have Vash the Stampede. 

Cradling Vash in his arms, feeling the tickle of his soft spiky hair, the damp scent of petrichor clinging to his clothes, the thrum of energy where their hands are joined and the small sparks that jump out between each rhythmic tap of Vash’s fingertips, and the warmth of living and breathing are the closest to coming home he’s felt since he was roused from cold sleep. Beneath each passing beat of silence, Vash draws his inevitable conclusions.

“Don’t recall ever needin’ yer permission to protect someone.” 

Fuck. He knew it was coming and he still can’t help but feel defensive. Wolfwood has to practically chew on his tongue to prevent himself from saying anything stupid. Vash has every reason to react this way. Despite his obvious agitation, Wolfwood listens.

Unlike Vash, Wolfwood has never grieved for the same person for over two hundred years.

Neither of them are fragile. They have each endured far more pain, death, and loss than any one person should ever have to experience in one lifetime– more, in Vash’s case. 

“Vash,” he says gently. Leaning forward places his chest flush to the curve of Vash’s spine and his chin just above Vash’s shoulder. “We’ve been through this same song ‘n dance, darlin’. Where you go, I go. Simple as that.”

He needs to look Vash in the eyes. Those same, kind, eyes that he fell in love with and all the sadness therein that shimmered behind the jeweled veil like a blinding light when Vash truly smiled. Wolfwood withdraws ever so briefly to scoot around the edge of the bedroll and draw up his legs beneath him to kneel beside Vash. Between both hands now, he holds Vash’s hand. “If I wanted to choose another life, if I wanted anyone or anythin’ else, I wouldn’t be here.” 

A vow, an oath, whatever it is, he’ll say the words as many times as Vash needs to hear it. If he needs to wrap his promise in gunpowder and bullets, so be it.

“We’re both goin’ to yer safehouse and we’ll do like ya said, alright? We’ll figure out what to do about the Eye.” 

Wolfwood leers at Vash then, having not forgotten the moment’s prior jabs against his dignity. “I may be gettin’ old, but I’ve been crawlin’ around in the dark for the past four days straight, so forgive me if I got a little excited. ‘sides, I’ve already fought a few of the Eye’s stupid new-age priests. Nothin’ like the monsters Conrad cooked up.”

So far, nothing he found about the Eye during his search for Vash suggested they possessed anywhere near the level of biotech knowledge that Conrad had amassed. Operative words being ‘so far.’

“I’ll kick the ass of the next one I see for ya, free of charge. You’ll see.”

Vash leans into Wolfwood's arms, making himself comfortable against his chest. It's warm, despite everything that's different, he's still warm and makes him feel... safe. It's almost as if no time has passed at all... kind of. He's alive, it's not a dream, that's what matters the most.

After Wolfwood dares to dip his hand down to wipe away tears, Vash captures it and clings to it, and he's not sure he's ever going to let it go. It's the hand that he's so familiar with, can trace every vein beneath that russet skin, and, best of all, it's not clutching a half-empty bottle or a sharp-edged shot glass. Just... him.

As unworthy as he is of being held like this, Vash is here—and Wolfwood rolled him up into this position, so this is what he wants too. It's perfect—stinking coat and rain and tent and all.

Well, it's perfect until Wolfwood mentions that.

The Plant stiffens as Wolfwood speaks of the Eye of Michael. The... cult that worshiped his brother to such an extent that they became a heavy presence around Gunsmoke at the time. Wolfwood's old employer. It's enough to sober him up and, with a sigh, resigns himself to a serious expression as he stares vacantly at the stove and holds onto his companion's hand.

"I... see," Vash is eventually able to respond, mulling over his options. He doesn't speak for a long time, letting the silence linger as he dances his fingers between Wolfwood's knuckles in thought. "No offense, but how do they expect you to fight when you can barely get excited without a heart attack? And... I'm just supposed to let you...?"

He can get back to a fighting state with a few weeks, at most, of training himself. Wolfwood can't just... find a better working heart. Maybe they can tune it up, or try something new, but that'd risk Wolfwood dying and... that's not worth it. Nothing's worth that.

"I have a small house nearby that's pretty disconnected from the rest of the world. We'll rest for a few weeks, get ourselves back in shape and healthy, get my arm fixed, and then... I don't know. I'll have to take care of it, and I-I think I'm too unstable for them to use me like that anyway... which is maybe more dangerous now that I think about it."

A bunch of melded plants and a last run? That sounds... horrifying.

"You can stay at my apartment in the city, where it's safe, and they don't ever have to know you're alive. It's... it's not perfect, but I'll come back after—"

He hates being coddled, why are you even trying? Do you want to insult him? Neither of us should do missions solo anymore, but I don't know what else to do... I'm not losing him again.

His grip on Wolfwood's hand tightens. If ever there were a time he didn't want to do something, it's now, and it's obvious to tell even without words. Wolfwood doesn't need to be a mind reader to figure that one out.

[sneeb-canons]

Don't know if it's needed, but TW for mentions of suicide. (It's not really that big, but I still put it just in case.)

If Sans Undertale were to judge them (plus Whole) based on what happened throughout the series, I think it would go something like this:

Heart: Sans would let him pass, but he's most definitely keeping an eye on him. (Trying to shoot Mind)

Mind: Judgement when completing Pacifist, yet you were rude. (Mocking Heart, yet not really committing any acts that would potentially have him earn EXP.) [Is there even a different judgement for being rude during a Pacifist run? I seriously don't even know–]

Soul: Would probably be given a bad time. (Threatening Heart and Mind, threatening suicide, probably killing the two in a few timelines, etc.)

Whole: Would be given a lecture to STOP RESETTING TIMELINES. (Obvious; he would forget five seconds later.)

Headcanon #230

[dredshirtroberts]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[dutybcrne]

Me BSing hcs like: The fact that Kae is not only able to create a shield when he is dangerously low HP but also the fact that he is able to regenerate HP when he hits opponents with Frostgnaw is definitely due to him receiving his Vision when Diluc had tried to kill him in their Confrontation...but could it be possible that his familial ties to the Abyss Order could have influenced that HP drain of his-

[eyecide]

Remember when I let someone mention the idea of opening our relationship to me, let him convince me that not only was it was actually totally fine to just do sexual roleplays online with other people when we were long distance, but that he NEEDED to and I DIDNT make that man beg me on his knees for forgiveness for any of that genuinely what was wrong with me

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.

[exopelagic]

why do applications feel like your soul is being lightly roasted at 180C

[estaticheart]

ᥫ᭡. THAT’S MY SISTER YOU BITCH

Summary: Despite Sarah and Rafe’s volatile relationship, that’s your sister.

Warnings: Violence, illusions to sex, swearing.

You had a great day so far. You'd woken up to Rafe in between your legs, waking you up in the best way possible before he made you both breakfast as you watched him from the island. Sometimes you just liked to ponder on how lucky you were to have a boyfriend like Rafe. To everyone else, you were far from lucky but you liked it that way- knowing only you got the real Rafe Cameron.

Now, you were on your way back from grocery shopping, planning to make Rafe a romantic meal when he arrived back from work. Blasting music from your car speakers, you were completely in the zone. Until you drove up to the City Hall, glancing ahead you saw Kelce's red truck, which you thought nothing of until you saw him and his idiotic friends surrounding John B and Sarah.

Alarmed, you pulled up next to the truck, gathering the attention of everyone. Despite being a kook yourself, you were far different from the rest of them. You didn't care about pogues, to you they were like anyone else, in fact often you preferred the pogues in the Outer Banks to the kooks. Rafe's circle exclusively consisted of kooks, meaning you often received a lot of respect from kooks even though you spent a lot of your time arguing with them. Rafe didn't mind it, you were his girlfriend and lover, so if you wanted to yell he wouldn't stop you.

"Problem?" You asked, slamming your car door shut behind you. Just as Sarah hit the ground. Immediately you rushed towards Sarah. Yeah, Rafe and Sarah had problems they needed to get past but to you, Sarah was still as important as she was 2 years ago. You were proud of her for finding her true love and true friends, and you always let her know that you would always be there for her. And this time was no exception. Putting two and two together, you saw Ruthie standing much closer to Sarah than the other kooks who looked at her in shock.

They all stood stunned at your arrival, to be honest, you were probably the worst possible person to show up at that exact moment. Everyone knew your opinions on the Pogues were far more empathetic than the other kooks. "No, no problem" Kelce muttered, beginning to pull Ruthie and the others back from Sarah and John B, to which they happily obliged. Not on your watch.

"Oh no, don't stop on my accord guys. Please whatever you were going to do next. Do it." Walking over to them, Ruthie stood stunned at your arrival. Since she started dating Topper, you got a lot of joy out of berating her, publically. For once, she didn't back down at your words. "She needs to watch herself. She pushed me first, it was self-defence." Ruthie said, glancing behind you to see John B pulling Sarah to her feet.

Snorting you replied, "Ruthie, I'm not Shoupe. Don't start pleading your case, I don't care." She stalled at your response, for a moment thinking that you were on her side for pushing Sarah before you pulled her back to reality. Walking closer to her, edgingly slow, you pressed, "You think you're all big and mighty for pushing Sarah? She's 19 Ruthie, you're what? 21? Don't you think you should play with someone your own size?"

Behind you, John B and Sarah smirked at the group. Unbeknownst to you, Sarah was pregnant and John B was far too occupied to make sure Sarah was okay than to pick a fight with Kelce and his goons today. But you happily would, and even better so because who was going to fight back against the kook princess? Definitely not these ones.

“Well?” You pushed, as you stood toe to toe with Ruthie. You were growing impatient, Rafe would have finished work by now meaning that soon he’d come looking for you- and you’d rather give Ruthie a good couple punches before Rafe showed up.

“Okay times up.” Before she could even think, your fist sent her backwards onto the floor, just how Sarah had been when when you arrived. Groaning, she lifted her hands to cover her nose, assumably bleeding- hopefully broken if Rafe’s self defence lessons had done some good. “Oh my god- I think you broke my nose. You bitch.” She shrieked, pulling her hands away to reveal blood beginning to pour from her nose.

Ruthie was nothing but a bully, a bully you’d had enough of tormenting the island. Your legs either side of her chest you crouched over her, “Don’t worry you still look just as bad as before.” You muttered as you flew your fist back into her face that she left unguarded. Idiot. Her screaming began again, as you moved off from her, deciding that your two punches had done enough damage. Wow, you’d really have to thank Rafe for those lessons.

“Just wait until Topper hears about this, he will deal with you.” One of the other kooks muttered from behind Kelce. “Yeah I’m sure Topper will be sure to deal with me.” You laughed, Topper wouldn’t touch a hair on your arm as long as you were dating Rafe- everyone knew that.

“You want to fuck with someone, not Sarah.” You spat at them, watching Ruthie sadly pull herself to her feet, with the help of no one. “That’s my sister you bitch. Now fuck off.” At your command, Kelce briskly walked back over to his truck, as the others followed just as fast, allowing you to turn back to John B and Sarah.

You were greeted to their smiling faces, both as grateful as each other. But you noticed, a twinge of emotion still lingering on Sarah’s face. Hearing you call her your sister in combination with her pregnancy hormones, was due to set her off to cry. Before she could get out any words, you spoke for her. “You are my sister regardless of whatever is going on between you and Rafe. You’re family.” Turning to John B, you continued, “That extends to you, hubby.” You winked looking down at the ring on his finger.

With a red blush covering their faces, they praised you in thank yous. “Don’t need to thank me for doing something I’ve been wanting to do for months.” Glancing back to see the red truck had disappeared.

“Now, you can thank me for warning you that Rafe will be here any minute and I’m not sure you want to see him.”

—————————

“Baby, please be more careful next time.” Rafe muttered, as he wrapped your knuckles in bandages. He was more than shocked to find you outside the city hall- alone- but with bloody knuckles. Only with the explanation, that you had an altercation with Ruthie, surprisingly over Sarah. He was confused to say the least, he wasn’t even aware that Ruthie had a problem with his little sister. But the more he thought about it, of course she did- Topper still hadn’t gotten over her.

“In fact, there will be no next time. Ever.” Kissing your knuckles, he pulled you onto his chest as he lied back on your shared king bed. Stroking your hair, he let his mind wonder. Should he have been there to protect Sarah? But they hadn’t had a good relationship in years, he couldn’t just suddenly start caring for her. He also couldn’t let you get into situations that could get you hurt over protecting Sarah.

You noticed his body still and you knew instantly his mind was wondering thinking about Sarah. Without moving your head from his chest you spoke, “Rafe. I love Sarah. I know you have a difficult relationship at the moment and whilst you can’t protect her I will.” Letting the silence sit between you for a moment, you decided to continue.

“She’s our only family, Rafe.” He didn’t move, but you both knew how right you were. She was all you had left. “I know baby, I know.” He whispered, laying a kiss on the top of your head, before he let his mind slip back into imagining how he can rectify this broken relationship with his sister.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

LADS Men With a Plus Size Reader

Warnings: None! This is actually very fluffy! Maybe PG13 at most! (OMG NCS, no smut?!😲😲😲) A/N: Finally, got around to writing one of the promised headcanons! Now, allow me to be clear here. The amount of customization the game allows is incredible but MC is a little bit on the smaller side, and I would have loved to see an option for a more robust body build. The same way there are naturally thin and petite women, there are also bigger and more rounded women as well and I think there was an opportunity lost there. Anyone that tries to hate on this will be blocked immediately.

Zayne:

Zayne’s large hand envelopes yours as you walk to the cafe he’d recommended. You knew it was popular amongst the hospital staff and weren’t surprised to see familiar faces; one of the tables was completely occupied by some of Zayne’s surgical nurses. 

“Why don’t you get a table?” Zayne brushes a kiss on top of your hair. “And I’ll get the food. Do you still want a hazelnut latte with your cake?”

“Yes please!” Zayne’s eyes fill with warmth as he squeezes your hand before walking towards the cashier. You wander over and pick a table near the nurses. You take out your phone and start to browse Instagram when a snide voice is heard from the table behind you. 

“Gross.”

You freeze but don’t dare turn around. Maybe it wasn’t directed at you. 

“That’s Dr. Zayne’s girlfriend?”

Shit it was.

“Why is he with that porker?”

“You’d think a man like that would have better taste.”

“I heard that they were childhood friends. He’s probably dating her out of pity.”

Even as your blood rages, you feel tears pricking the backs of your eyes. Were they aware you could hear them? And they had just said your worst fears out loud; that Zayne was dating you as a favor, not because he was actually into you. It was an old insecurity you hadn’t really grown out of. You startle slightly as Zayne suddenly sits down opposite you, food and beverages in hand. He sets down your coffee and cake while taking his own plate and tea off the tray.

“Why are you so upset?” He immediately observes the distress on your face and the way your eyes are glistening. You shake your head and dab at your eyes with a napkin, Zayne watching you intently. The cute slice of cake he’s gotten for you sits temptingly in line with your vision but right now it might as well be a lump of clay, all appetite for it gone. 

Zayne’s eyes flick to the cake and back to you. “Did I get the wrong one?”

You’re about to shake your head no when the conversation at the table behind you picks up again. Clearly, they hadn’t noticed Zayne sitting down. 

“He deserves so much more than that blob. There are so many attractive women at the hospital.”

“I agree. He could get anyone he wanted. Someone who actually takes care of their health and watches their figure.”

Shame fills you and you’re unable to look at Zayne in the eyes, knowing he had heard them, even though you know it was far from the truth. You ate all your vegetables and exercised frequently. But your body just refused to slim down no matter what you did. No matter how much you tried to lose weight, the weight just didn’t want to lose you. You’re about to get up and leave when Zayne speaks up, loud and clear, in a scathing tone. 

“Right, because weight is the only indicator of a person’s health, isn’t it?” Zayne’s words drip with sarcasm. 

The entire nurses’ table jumps at his voice, turning around to look at him.

“Oh, Dr. Zayne! We weren’t-”

“I don’t care what you weren’t doing. Do not talk about anyone that way, patient or not. Were you not taught compassion as part of your medical training? Or is it reserved for people who look a certain way?” His eyes are narrowed and the table looks tense. One by one the nurses start to get up, quietly murmuring apologies to him as they exit the cafe. 

Zayne watches them go, anger still visible in his eyes before turning his attention back to you. His hand covers yours on top of the table. “Are you all right?”

You sniff. “I try. You know I try. I cook all my meals. I exercise. We work out together. But I can’t get the weight to go away.” 

“No sweetheart. I know how much you take care of yourself.” Zayne reaches across the table to wipe your tears. “You do not have to lose any weight. You’re perfectly healthy, and as long as that’s clear, nothing else matters.”

“You’re not dating me out of pity?” You look at him uncertainly. 

“Pity?” Zayne chuckles in disbelief. “Darling when you first started coming to my office I was sure you were out of my league.” His thumb strokes your hand reassuringly.

“You’re so amazing. Talented, compassionate, considerate. And all those things will always matter more to me than anything else.”

He looks at your neglected slice of cake. “Now don’t take out your sadness on the dessert. If you don’t finish it in 5 minutes, it’s mine.”

Rafayel:

You grip your wrap firmly around your shoulders, stepping with grace into the dazzling venue. You never missed Rafayel’s shows if you could help it but this time around, you had a skin in the game. Literally.

One night after a round of passionate lovemaking, you had woken to find Rafayel painting, and when you saw what he was working on, you’d blushed and smacked him on the shoulder.

There, in the brush strokes, he had painted you sleeping on his bed, your hair in disarray as it cascaded down your back, your face buried into the pillow and not quite visible. The sheets covered you modestly but the wide curve of your hips, the pudges of fat at your side, and the bra rolls under your arms were all painted with clarity and you found you couldn’t look at it. A feeling of unease had settled in your stomach. Was this the way your boyfriend viewed you?

You had brought it up to Rafayel in a small voice. “Do you think I’m fat?”

Your heart sank as Rafayel’s face, which had been so soft, a curve in his lips as he had painted, changed into a mask of dismay. “Fat?” he had asked, looking quite upset. “Where in this painting have I made you look fat?”

“Here. And here.” You point out the areas and Rafayel pulls you against him, holding you fiercely. 

“Cutie, I swear to God I’m just painting you as you are. I don’t think you look fat at all. I’m just painting my beautiful girlfriend in all her glory.” Crushed against his chest, you try to talk. 

“But, most women in paintings don’t look like that, they have smaller hips and thighs and mine look so…ugly.”

You thought Rafayel’s heart might have broken as he heard your word of choice. “There’s nothing about you that’s ugly. None of this is ugly. It’s a body. Your body. And baby I love every inch of it exactly as it is. I didn’t mean to make you sad while I painted all the pretty little pieces of you that make you whole.” His hands trace your sides, squeezing you reassuringly. 

“There’s so much beauty in you baby. That’s all I see in this painting. You’ll always be the biggest masterpiece in my life.”

Knowing he held you in such high esteem had done wonders for your confidence, which was what you were trying to emulate as you walked into the gallery. Rafayel had hesitantly asked for your permission to showcase that painting for this show, promising he’d never use it without your consent. Nervous as you were, part of you was actually thrilled that it was going to be used. It was difficult to make out who the subject in the portrait was since your face wasn’t entirely visible. 

Still, it felt like an out-of-body experience as you approached the hung canvas, observing the crowd that flocked to it. Some people nodded at it quietly before moving on, others commented under their breath that Rafayel should have chosen a more appropriate model. 

“Can you imagine this woman being naked in his bed?” One of them asked and her friends snickered sycophantically. “He must have been drunk or something.”

“And why is that?” You turn in time to see Rafayel, dressed sharply in a couture outfit approach you and pull you to his side, his hand resting possessively on the jut of your hip. The woman backpedals.

“Mr. Rafayel! I mean, obviously, your work is unique but I can’t help but wonder what you might have been trying to convey when you painted someone with such a…heavy structure.”

Rafayel pretends to consider her words. “I suppose…people have different views on what beauty is. All I was trying to convey was how much I loved the person in the painting. Anyone that doesn’t see the beauty in this particular painting, well I’m afraid they have poor taste.”

Grinning at the affronted look on her face, Rafayel whisks you away, but not before you throw her a smug smirk over your shoulder. 

Sylus:

Who knew underground mafia bosses loved their parties as much as their money? As strange as it was, the cliques had started becoming familiar with you hanging around. Anytime Sylus was invited to a gathering, it was expected that you were his plus one. While most of the men entertained polite conversation with you, it was no secret how coveted Sylus was by the women in the N109 zone. 

They wrinkled their noses as you walked by, your head held high, knowing you shouldn’t let their words get to you but it was hard. You tell the bartender your order and put a $100 bill into the tip jar. After all, you couldn’t embarrass Sylus by handing out a miserly tip when he was supposed to be the richest man here.

You knew you looked good enough to kill; Sylus had chosen the gown you were wearing himself, even hiring a personal tailor to fit the dress to flaunt your best assets and a thick choker of diamonds glittered on your neck. The plunging V-line of the dress showed off a tempting display of creamy cleavage, the bodice of the dress pushing up your impressive bosom. The material crept over your belly and hips, your fupa visible a little more than you would have liked but Sylus had refused to hear otherwise. You remember the way his hands had caressed the bulge of fat after helping you zip up the gown, his low, contented, purr ringing in your ears.

“Kitten, you’re going to be every man’s envy tonight. How delightful that I get to flaunt you as mine.”  

A group of women, all model-thin and gorgeous, approach the bar, their cold eyes fixed on you, wearing smiles that could cut glass. Your fingers drum nervously on the counter as you try to ignore them. One of the women spies the tip you had put in and jerks her chin at you, her lips twisting into what looks like a sneer. 

“So Sylus has the money to let you throw around $100 bills into tip jars. I wonder…” She pauses and the group draws collectively closer like a cackle of hyenas. “Wouldn’t his finances be more wisely spent on other avenues?”

“Such as?” You ask carefully.

“A good plastic surgeon perhaps? Lord knows you could use some liposuction in more places than one.” Her entourage leers at you while covering their mouths to stifle their laughter.

Your back stiffens and your eyes widen in shock. You resist the urge to cover your middle. You knew you should have pushed harder to have the gown loosened. Your fupa, the soft squidge that bulged under the material of the dress…it was a mistake thinking you could attend a party with it showing up so obviously. 

A million retorts form in your head but they all die weakly on your tongue. You had no defense, and you felt pathetic that you were sitting here and taking their abuse but your mind felt frozen, like you couldn’t plan your next move. 

“How did you ever think that someone like you could pull off a dress like that?” The woman presses, her eyes boring into yours. Your pulse quickens as you try to find a way to escape.

“You’re right, she can’t pull off a dress like that.” A rich, deep voice answers the woman who pales as she sees Sylus drape his arm possessively around your shoulders. “It’ll wrinkle. That’s why I’ll be pulling it off for her as soon as we get home.”

His eyes flash scarlet as he signals to the bartender, who immediately starts pouring him a drink and expediting your cocktail, setting both glasses on coasters in front of you. You flush but try not to look too pleased as you take a sip, feeling the alcohol loosen you. 

“Mr. Sylus.” The woman’s voice changes immediately and she steps back. “We were just talking about fashion.” she fibs hastily, trying to cover up her reason for using the word ‘dress’.

“Fashion?” Sylus looks at her patronizingly. “Do tell.”

Caught, she wets her lips before saying, “Oh we were talking about jeans and how they never fit or have pockets-”

“Hmm. I can understand these problems. After all, jeans without pockets are like women without curves…there’s nowhere to put your hands.” His broad hand shifts to your hip, his fingers subtly signaling it is time for you to go. You pick up your glass and Sylus holds onto you firmly as you walk back to the crowd. 

Xavier:

You’re sweaty as you and Xavier walk back from the office gym to the locker rooms. Xavier drinks from his water bottle, swallowing zealously. “I think we’ve exercised enough for a whole week,” he says as you walk. You laugh and shake your head.

“We only did a half hour of cardio!”

“Yeah, but we lifted all those weights too! In fact, my muscles already feel stronger.” Xavier flexes his arm and a visible bicep forms, making you grin. 

“Oh so strong,” you say as you reach out to squeeze. Xavier winces slightly and you quickly withdraw. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok. I’m a little sore.” You reach the locker rooms.“I’ll wait for you outside.”

You nod and he disappears into the men's locker room. You wander into the women’s, undo the lock, and retrieve your bag, finding a stall to change your clothes. You peel off your damp leggings which stick to your plushy thighs and you drag them down, sighing in relief as the skin jiggles freely in the cool air after being stuffed in the heat of polyester for so long. 

The skin on your butt and stomach are dimpled, something you’d come to terms with. You recall how nervous you’d been to let Xavier see you in a bathing suit at the pool but now you barely glance at them. 

“It’s like your skin is smiling at me when I kiss it.” 

That’s what Xavier had said as he kissed the soft flesh lovingly. Who could possibly feel self-conscious after that analogy? As you fold away the sweaty clothes into a garment bag, you hear several of the other changing room doors open and a group of voices fills the locker room as you change. You normally wouldn’t have paid attention but you freeze when you hear Xavier’s name.

“Why do you think Xavier works out with her of all people?”

“I know! They workout together like almost everyday and she hasn’t lost any weight!”

“She probably lacks the discipline to go on a real diet. It doesn’t matter how much she exercises, that fat isn’t going to go away if she doesn’t eat healthier.”

“Xavier really needs to find a better workout buddy. She only slows him down.”

Your heart clenches in your chest as you hear the cruel commentary. How dare these women talk about your body like it was a source of entertainment for them? Both rage and sorrow fills you as you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Suddenly all you can see are the flaws.

How cute, to call cellulite ‘dimpled skin’ like it was something to be adored. You stare at the lumpy skin, at the way your stomach and arms have stretch marks everywhere, the way your skin bulges over the band of your bra. You wait in silence as the women finish their chat and you hear them exit the locker room.

After what seemed like ages, you finally finish dressing and leave the changing room feeling humiliated. The post-workout glow had all but vanished from your system and you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being perceived like a huge, hulking, ogre; built big and lumberingly, not at all cute like the princess Xavier claimed you were. You leave the dressing room, then stare in disbelief as the same group of women crowd around Xavier as he waits for you. You lurk, not wanting to be seen, then one of the women speaks up.

“Xavier, if you’re looking for another workout buddy I’d be happy to tag along.” One of them chirps perkily.

Xavier chuckles politely and shakes his head. “Thank you, but no. I have a workout buddy.”

“Oh cmon Xavier, don’t you think you need someone who can challenge you a little more?”

“I do actually. That’s why I work out with her.”

“Does she really challenge you?”

“I think she challenges me more than you. Didn't you finish last in the company relay race?” The woman’s face falls and your heart skips a beat. 

“And you,” Xavier says as he turns to face another woman. “Forgive me if I’m wrong but you struggle to push anything more than 75 pounds. My workout buddy does 150 easily. She’s very strong. Perhaps you might benefit from training with her.” The second woman looks offended even as she’s being chastised. 

Feeling your confidence soar, you skip over to Xavier feeling as light as a feather. Xavier’s eyes light up as you approach. “Ladies,” you say smugly to their scandalized faces before pulling Xavier away from them, holding his arm as you walk away. 

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

[taco-rambles]

DC XDP prompt: Danny falls out of a portal literally into Batmans arms in a JL meeting.

Feel free to play with this. I probably will write more, but I'm STUCK and don't know how to write the JL or anyone else for that matter.

XXX

The Justice League meeting had gone very well. For once there were no major crisis from anyone attending, and all of the regular members of the league were in attendance. A few of the second row hero’s had begged off for one reason or another, but nothing that was a threat of any real kind.

Batman was wary, and on edge as the meeting wrapped up. It was never this simple, it just couldn’t be. There was always some kind of threat to keep an eye on, but the worst thing that had come up during the meeting were routine security updates.

No one else seemed to be on edge from the far too calm, routine meeting, and Bruce had just about convinced himself that it was really just one of those meetings where nothing outrageous would happen. It was ideal even…

Then the alarms went off, in the specific modulation that indicated a magical incursion.

Batman wasn’t the only one who’s hands went to weapons when the portal materialized above the meeting room table only a moment after the alarm went off. Swirling lazarus green had him ready for the fight even as the rest of the league went into defensive positions around the incursion.

“What…” Flash started to ask about a minute later when nothing had happened yet, the alarms still blaring.

That’s when something came flying out of the portal, at speed, back first.

Batman had a split second to decide to attack… or not. A split second to try to process the impressions and decide if this was an attack.

The portal closed as he cradled the small body that had crashed into his arms, the alarms silencing a moment later as the rest of the league tried to catch up, all of them wondering if this was some new threat.

Batman looked down at the child in his arms, a boy in his mid teens and small for his age, with white hair framing a frighteningly familiar looking face, gently pointed ears, and fangs in a mouth that gasped for breath against pain. The eyes were closed, twisted tight as the child clutched at his chest and belly, holding together severed flesh that leaked lazarus green blood from a clinical and too regular wound. Fingers tipped with small claws spasmed, tears coming from closed eyes.

“Batman?” Wonder Woman asked, Diana’s voice filled with concern as Bruce wrapped the child in his arms and stood up from where he had been knocked on his ass catching said child.

“Call down to medical. Severely wounded unknown,” he snapped, moving towards the door, only to stop as there was a flash of light in his arms, and the child suddenly gained a solid weight that was closer to human. The blood dripping from passed out hands was now brilliant red, fingertips blunt with chewed nails, the boy’s skin going from pale white to… a healthier tone.

Bruce consciously stopped cataloging his observations then, swiftly making his way to medical. Whatever this boy was, whether he intended to tug at Batman’s heart the way he was or not, was severely wounded and needed medical attention immediately.

He could process it all, and wonder why a child looking exactly like Damian Wayne had been thrown into his arms through a lazarus portal later.

XXXXX

An hour later, after a discreet call to his youngest just to be sure, Bruce watched the now sedated child in the medical cot, working on trying to face match the databases and find out if the child came from earth or not.

The searches primarily turned up Damian Wayne. Bruce knew for certain this child was not his son, but he was also running a DNA analysis because this Might be his son. It made a disheartening amount of sense for this boy to be another version of Damien, perhaps from another dimension, or some manner of clone, or perhaps Talia had simply hidden another child of his away… Bruce needed to narrow down the possibilities, to find the truth.

Of course, it was equally possible that this boy was some manner of mimic, taking on a form that would ensure his safety in unknown environment, a shape shifter intentionally injuring himself in order to infiltrate the Watchtower. Though that last theory didn’t make sense for a number of reasons. Most shape shifters would be secure enough in their abilities to simply try to mimic someone who already had access to the watch tower, to say nothing of the boy’s dramatic entrance.

Batman wasn’t thinking logically. Bruce couldn’t simply leave the boy here though. Not until he knew more, everything relevant by preference. The thought that this might be his son in any way was enough to keep him near, but he could already tell he was compromised.

He had already informed Diana and Clark, and both of them had agreed that he should stay nearby until they had the situation sorted out.

Bruce had been stuck in a circular though pattern for about fifteen minutes when a green form came into the room, J’onn looking at him calmly.

“Can you find anything out?” Batman asked without preamble, unable to bring himself to observe polite pleasantries when he was so unsettled.

“Nothing beyond surface thoughts. The boy’s mind is static and pain of the emotional kind,” J’onn stated after a moment.

Batman nodded, accepting the answer. J’onn’s abilities weren’t always the answer to everything, could indeed often be a crutch that led to the wrong answers. But they could also give the Justice League a starting point often enough.

“You should rest friend. It is unlikely that the boy will awaken soon…” J’onn cut himself off with a quiet look at the boy. “Or not. He’s coming around.”

Batman watched as the child’s eyes blinked open, drowsy expression turning to the two heros without much recognition. Bruce didn’t let himself react, kept himself in a calm pose even as his mind once more went into overdrive.

The boy had blue eyes, not green like Damian's.