#but he's never able to fully cure it

[ibuprofinator]

what if i just kill alistair in ilya's canon

[stormofdefiance]

2.2 spoilers //

He finally texted me back and I’m on my knees. Like I might actually cry - he wants to live 😭😭 ffffuck. HAPPY about being alive, FUCK - I can’t believe he just said that with his fingers aaaHHHHH. He’s worrying about being a bother but also actually SHOWING he’s insecure about it oh my god lay me down in the tall grass

[spokenforyou]

sylus x fem reader

PRAEDATOR

synopsis: sylus is in a frenzy and you’re his only cure notes: based on the newest “Innocent Bird Cage” enjoy! :3 warnings: vulgarity, nsfw, unprotected, swearing, hickeys, marks of ownership, biting, light spanking wc: 2.9k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

“How does it feel…To watch me from outside the cage?”

Sylus is going through yet another frenzy, something you had just found out about. He’s feral, he’s needing, he’s wanting, he’s craving. You and only you.

You’re the only one able to tame him, and although he doesn’t want to hurt you. He’s unable to get himself under control…

You stand in the cage with him, and he suddenly lunges at you. His arms coming to fly around you, one snaking down to your waist and the other near your neck. Sylus nibbles at your ear and presses his body firmly against you.

“Sweetie, I can’t hold back from you. You smell so divine, and I know you taste even better…” He drags his mouth down to your neck, biting it and claiming you as his.

“Sylus, how can I help you get out of this state?” You whisper and he only chuckles, hands running higher up your body.

“You can give yourself to me…Tame me, darling.” His words send shivers down your spine because you know you can’t resist him. Although he’s in this state, you are craving him just as badly.

He lets out an animalistic huff of need against your neck where he is breathing in your scent.

“Please…Please…” he croaks out, his heart racing a million miles an hour.

Everything within him is screaming for you to just give in. He wants you with every fiber of his being; he craves your touch that could soothe the wildfire within him.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling his body tense behind you, and you gulp.

“Is it the only way?” You almost hesitate to ask.

Sylus lets out a possessive growl, his grip on you becoming more firm yet almost desperate. He doesn’t want it to be the only way, but his mind is not fully his right now.

Desire and a need only you can quench consumed his body. He presses his lips against the column of your neck, letting them trail up to your ear as he huskily says, “You’re my only way, sweetheart… I need you…”

You turn to look at him, his eyes nearly glowing in the dim room, his face flushed, and body heaving. Your eyes drop to his lips and they’re parted slightly, almost so he can breathe correctly.

Sylus holds everything back, just to not pounce on you, needing your consent, but damn, is it hard. If you don’t help him, he’ll go insane.

“Please…” You hear him whisper as he looks down at you, something you’ve never heard him say, and at that moment you give in.

“If it’s the only way…” You nod and Sylus instantly crashes his lips down onto yours before you can even blink.

His lips chasing yours in a messy kiss that he’s been craving for what feels like decades. His tongue meets yours and he groans, pulling you against him.

Your hands come up to tangle in his hair, his new mullet hairstyle. It was enough to make you just as insane. A style only he could pull off.

He growls and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, never breaking the kiss.

Sylus’ hands grip your bottom tightly while he holds you, and he feels his body growing harder and hotter.

You break the kiss and look at him, his eyes now nearly fluttering. “Sylus, not in here…” you refer to the cage and he nods.

He walks the two of you out of the cage that feels like his prison and he leaves the room. Sylus finds his way to a separate room and drags the two of you in there, his legs nearly giving out, the need taking over his body.

Thankfully, there’s a bed in the center of the room. He carries you over and drops you on it, your body sinking into the soft mattress.

As soon as he has you within the confines of a private room, Sylus is upon you again, his body fitting between your thighs as he holds himself over you.

His fiery intensity dilates his eyes, and his breathing is heavy. You have never seen him so vulnerable yet so hungry at the same time.

He leans down to kiss you, his teeth nipping and his tongue hungrily demanding entrance. You instantly allow entry and he groans.

His body grinds against yours, wanting to be as close to you as possible, wanting to feel every inch of you against him. He groans into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your curves like a man lost in the desert finally finding an oasis.

His body, his mind, everything is on fire. The fire only growing stronger as he ravages you; you were his cure.

Sylus moves down your jawline, trailing kisses as he reaches your neck. He sucks and nips, leaving his mark on your skin, wanting to claim you as his own.

“I need you…You only…” he growls against your neck, his hands already undressing you with an intense desperation.

Now you feel your boys beginning to heat, and a pool forming between your legs. You’ve never been so turned on by how desperate he seems. Like you were his kryptonite.

Sylus then tears your clothing as if they’re nothing, needing to get to the skin underneath. His mouth moves over your chest, his tongue and teeth teasing and tasting your skin.

It’s as if he’s starved for you, as if he can’t get enough. He wants to touch, feel, taste… possess every bit of you.

He kisses and sucks his way down your body, his hands holding your hips in place as he worships every inch of your skin. A man gone mad is all you see.

Leaving a trail of marks, claiming you as his one and only. He reaches the apex of your thighs and he looks up at you, his eyes filled with raw need and a primal hunger.

“Please, Sy…” You whisper out a whine, now you were the desperate one. He smirks and licks his lips quickly; he doesn’t need to be told twice.

Sylus leans down, his tongue tasting you, savoring your very essence, your very being. He growls against you, his hands holding your thighs apart as he drinks you in like a man dying of thirst.

“So fucking good…” He moans against you, and the vibrations travel up your body, his name leaving your lips in return.

He’s relentless, his tongue working you skillfully, his mouth demanding that you come undone for him, for him and only him.

His grip on your thighs tightens, his tongue finding that sweet spot that makes you arch against him, and he doubles down on it, wanting to feel you unravel under his touch.

Sylus’ eyes lock on your face, his eyes memorize everything you do, every squeeze of your eyes, and drop of your jaw. He drinks it in, thirsty.

Your body tightens and the tension in your body grows, signaling you’re close. Sylus feels the way your body shakes, and he growls, his cock hardening beyond relief, almost as if he was going to cum with you at that very moment.

He found pleasure in pleasuring you, and he needed you to soak him, to drown him.

“Sylus, I…” You moan and your back arches; his hands hold you down as he continues to devour you.

He doesn’t let up, his tongue and mouth working in perfect harmony to bring you to your peak. He can feel your thighs tremble, your body tense up, and he can tell that you’re on the brink.

Sylus growls against you, his voice a raspy command, “Cum for me sweetheart…Let me taste you…”

“I, Fuck…” You let out a whine and come undone not even one second after he speaks.

Your hips buck against his face, his nose rubbing against your clit as he laps in your juices. His mind filled with bliss and hunger, he savors you to the very last drop.

He finally pulls away, his lips and chin glistening with your essence, his eyes burning with a primal fire.

He crawls up your body, his own body pressing against yours, his muscular form a stark contrast to your soft curves.

He captures your lips in a hungry kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and you let out a dirty moan. The two of you loved tasting each other, and he fucking knew it.

His body grinds against yours, his hard length already pressing against your lower stomach through his clothes, hot and aching for you.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his voice ragged and needful, “I need you… I need you now… Please sweetheart…Please…”

You nod and he quickly strips off his clothes, tossing them somewhere on the floor nearby before he leans back down.

His hands are on your hips again, lifting you up to meet him; he can no longer hold back the primal need to be inside you.

With a smooth movement, he pushes into you, a guttural moan escaping his and your lips as he finally feels the heat and slickness of your body enveloping him.

He lets out a deep moan, his eyes closing briefly as pleasure races through him, his need finally being satisfied. He didn’t give you time to adjust, and he instantly thrusts, slowly but not as gentle as usual. The thickness of his length stretching you wide and you whine of pain.

“Sylus, it hurts…” tears prick your eyes although you feel intense pleasure.

“Safe word, baby…” He mutters as he continues his thrusts. Sylus knew if you were uncomfortable or wanted to stop, you’d use the safe word, hence why the two of you came up with it. You’ve never even used it.

You didn’t feel the need to use it, just needed to adjust to his size. But at that moment, he shifts his angle. Bringing your hips up to meet his, his movements growing more desperate, more wild.

His lips find your neck, his teeth and tongue finding every sensitive spot that makes you gasp and writhe beneath him. He worships you like a goddess, the only sight in his eyes.

Sylus’ cock presses deep inside your cunt, shaping your walls to fit him with every thrust. His cock nearly about to burst, edging himself until you cum first. His head drops to your neck, and he peppers kisses along your skin, muttering sweet words and words of dirty greed.

He continues his assault on your senses, his body moving in a primal dance, his need mounting, climbing to new heights as he fucks you.

His hand slides down, finding that sweet, sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing and stroking, wanting to push you over the edge once more. Your moans get louder and he nips harder at your skin before pulling away abruptly.

“Ride me.” He slips out of you with a slight groan and he lifts you up off the bed. Switching you two, he situates himself and lowers you onto his cock.

Your eyes roll back at the fill once again, the fill you missed. His hands grip your hips, leaving bruises that will last for days, but you don’t care to notice, and neither did he.

You bounce with fervor and he meets your thrusts, driving himself deeper inside of you. The head of his cock nearly pushing into your cervix, the two of you savor each other.

Sylus’ head leans back, his eyes squeeze shut and mouth gaping as you ride him. His hands help you bounce faster and harder on top of him.

“Fuck, this was all I needed…You wrapped around me, taking me like a good girl.” He mutters under his breath as he lets out a groan.

“So good, so good at this baby…” Sylus nods as his eyes slowly open to watch you. Eyes watching the way your tits bounce and he insanely leans forward to suck them.

His lips latch around one, and a hand massages and twists the nipple on the other. Your moans grow louder and his cock pulses inside of you, the two of you close.

Your words are blubbering together, and he smirks against your chest. “Cock drunk, aren’t you?” He spanks your ass and your walls squeeze him, his eyes fluttering, knowing what that means.

He can’t control the sounds escaping him, grunts and moans falling from his lips as you ride him, your body a tantalizing sight above him. His body is tensing up, his need mounting, his control slipping.

“Sy… I can’t hold it.” Moans fall from your lips and he nods. His own release is close, but he wants you to come undone first.

Sylus can feel your body tightening around him, your movements becoming more frantic, and he groans at the sensation. He sits up, his arms wrapping around you. Pulling you against him and holding you in place as he thrusts up into you with a new sense of desperation.

His mouth finds your neck, his lips and teeth working the sensitive skin as his body moves beneath you. His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in, guiding you, holding you in place.

Your moaning and the sound of skin on skin fill the room, mingling with his gruff moans.

“Cum for me... Cum for me, sweetheart..”

You reach your second orgasm and you nearly pass out, body overheating; you see stars as your body squeezes him.

The feel of your body shuddering around him, the sight of you coming undone in his lap, pushes him over the edge.

Sylus follows you into oblivion, a guttural moan escaping him as he succumbs to his own release, his body shuddering and taut against you as he releases inside of you. Filling you up with his warmth, he groans.

Continuing his thrusts, he finishes a second time, filling you up completely. The walls of your womb painted white. His moans overtaking your senses.

“I love you, I fucking love you…” Sylus whispers to you.

He holds you close, his arms wrapped around you, his face buried against your neck as he tries to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his chest. You lay limp in his arms, body nearly numb from pleasure.

He holds you against him, feeling your body go limp, your breath ragged and uneven. He can sense your exhaustion, your body still shuddering and trembling, the aftermath of your release and the ferocity of his own.

He presses gentle kisses against your neck, his own body slowly finding its calm as the frenzy that consumed him slowly subsides.

Sylus’ fingers gently thread through your hair. He can still taste you on his lips, the sweet and heady flavor of your desire, a sensation that he’ll never grow tired of.

He presses another soft kiss against your shoulder, his voice a low, gruff murmur.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

You mutter a quiet, “Mmm… Tired and sore already…” and he chuckles.

He can imagine that you’re both feeling weary and sore, given the intensity of what just transpired between you two.

He shifts beneath you, gently lifting you off of him and laying you down on the bed, your body still trembling and shaking.

You feel a loss of emptiness as he slides out of you and you fight back a whine. He situates you on the bed so you can get comfortable and relax.

As you’re laid down on the bed, he can see the state of your body, your trembling limbs, the flush on your skin, and the evidence of your release still glistening between your thighs. He takes in the sight of you, his expression full of both concern and satisfaction.

Sylus moves to lie down beside you, pulling you in against him, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. His fingers gently brush against your skin, a silent apology for any soreness or discomfort you’re currently feeling.

“Sy…?” You speak up quietly, and he hums, his fingers continuing their patterns.

“Can you grab a washcloth for me to clean up the mess? My legs hurt and I don’t wanna move.” You chuckle and sigh.

He nods in understanding, his expression soft and caring, although you can’t see him. He shifts to sit on the edge of the bed, his gaze still trained on you.

“Of course.” He rises from the bed and disappears into the adjoining bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth in hand.

Sylus sits back down beside you, his eyes scanning over your body, taking in the sight of your still trembling form, the evidence of their shared intimacy still obvious to your skin.

He slowly, gently runs the warm cloth between your thighs, his touch soft and caring. Once he’s finished, he discards the wash cloth and lays down beside you once again.

Sylus’ hands wrap around you as he molds his body to yours, kissing your back gently. “Get some rest, baby. You’re gonna be sore in the morning.”

He feels his own exhaustion setting in and pulls you closer. Your bodies relax and you fall asleep soundly.

Just before he drifts off, Sylus’ voice, rough and barely audible, breaks the silence.

“I love you… my girl…”

And with that, he succumbs to the heaviness of his lids, letting sleep claim him, his arms still wrapped around you, holding you against his chest.

You’ve never felt more loved even in your sleep.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I Could Have You

Main Masterlist - Dean Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, Love Confessions, Smut (p in v, oral both receiving), light angst, soulmates, sex pollen, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: Dean is hit with a lust spell, and it doesn't seem to only be effecting him. No one's really sure why, and Dean refuses to give in to the curse, so you'll just ride this out.

You'll defiantly be able to just ride this out.

Author's Note: I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you enjoy it!

Title from Normal Fucking Rockwell by Lana Del Ray

Word Count: 6k

You’re losing your mind.

Your skin is on fire, your back is flat on the cold bathroom floor, and you’re moaning and whining and bucking into the air but nothing is fixing this. Nothing is relieving you, not your fingers or the pillows or the toy a very red-faced Sam had bought you. Nothing is going to save you, because only one, stupid, handsome, selfless idiot can, and he’s suddenly too good to just fuck you.

Hell, that idiot is the only reason this is happening. According to Sam and Bobby, Dean got hit with a sex spell in Colorado, you started whimpering for him in South Dakota, and you’re not allowed to have sex with him for… reasons.

Reasons no one seems willing to fully share with you, but reasons.

You know Dean wants you. You’ve known he wants you. Neither of you have ever been able to do something about that—never going beyond flirting and lingering touches and stares—but you’re certain he feels the same way. Maybe not the exact same way, because you want whatever Dean offers you, his body or mind or heart or very soul, but you know he’s attracted to you. And if the countless little pieces of evidence you’ve hoarded in your brain—winks and smirks and long, apperceive scans of your body—weren’t enough for you to know, this was. You’d heard Dean roar your name from outside Bobby’s cabin as the Impala door slammed. You’d seen the feral, lust-blown expression on his face as he’d charged at you. Sam had tackled him to the ground as you’d grown a little dizzy with need, and Bobby grabbed your wrist, dragging you upstairs. Away from Dean, from the cure, from his big hands and soft mouth and huge-

“You’re gonna need to stay in here.” Bobby had muttered, refusing to meet your eyes as he shuffled out of the room. “Least until we get Dean’s head right, or figure out what the hell is going on.”

It’s been almost a day, and they’ve made almost no progress. From Sam’s last update, all they’re certain of is: Sex spell, you and Dean, no other options except you and Dean.

“What do you mean no other options,” you’d said, leaning up to frown at Sam. “Did Dean-“

“No.” Sam shakes his head, giving you a sheepish expression. “I mean, Bobby and I suggested it, but he said no.”

“Oh,” you’d mumbled, falling back down on the mattress. “Why?”

Sam had shrugged, leaning into your line of vision. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“No, Sam, what the fuck-“

“That’s why.”

He’d stood up and left, and you hadn’t had a clue what the hell he was talking about. Sure, you didn’t want to have sex with him, but he was like a brother to you. Dean, somehow, wasn’t. Dean was Dean. And it wasn’t like you’d say no to a random, no-strings attached hookup right now-

Something had tugged in your gut, and you’d realized—staggering to the toilet and vomiting up your lunch—that you could not do a random hookup. You wanted Dean. You needed him. You might die if you didn’t get him, and it had to be him, and he must feel it too, but when you’d asked Sam he said no.

“No?!” You’d rolled over on the floor to glare up at him, wishing you could find the strength to surge up and punch him in his stupid, apologetic face. “What do you mean No?!”

“Dean, um,” Sam had sighed again, and if he kept doing that you were going to kick him in the balls. “He made us lock him in the safe room. He won’t come out until we cure him.”

“Why did he-“ You’d cut yourself off as it hit you, another, softer wave of sickness rolling over your body. The sickness lived in your heart. This sickness was made of the tragic reality that Dean might want you, but he didn’t want you. Maybe that was why he’d never made a move. Maybe he was attracted to you physically, but couldn’t see you like that, and didn’t really want to try to.

Maybe Dean was disgusted by the idea. Maybe he hated that his body found you hot, because he thinks of you like you think of Sam.

“Oh,” you’d rolled back onto your stomach, and prayed Sam would leave soon so you could go back to humping the floor. “Okay.”

Sam had said your name, waiting until you hummed an acknowledgment to continue. “We’re going to fix this-“

“I know.” You’d let out a long, slow breath, curling into your own body. “We always do.”

They would fix this. And then you’d have to look Dean in the eyes, and find a way to be okay with his rejection. Teach yourself how to not turn into a pining dumbass, chasing after someone who obviously didn’t want you. You wouldn’t lose him, he was your best friend, but you’d also have to learn to pretend it didn’t feel like your heart hadn’t just been ripped out of your chest and stomped on.

And now you’re here. Hoping Sam and Bobby will fix this soon, crawling into the empty bathtub to try and sleep. The bed is too warm, too intimate, to inviting of fantasies that will never be reality. Daydreams of Dean’s hands on you, trailing over your skin and setting of little sparks as he maps your body. Those same hands pushing open your thighs, two of his fingers teasing over your pussy, his mouth wrapping around your nipple as he started pumping and scissoring and crooking inside you-

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and you yank your own fingers out of your cunt, wiping them on the towel as you speak, your voice far too hoarse. “Yeah, Sam?”

“Not Sam.” Bobby grumbles, his voice slightly muffled through the door. “You decent?”

You toss a towel over your body, having long abandoned clothing. “Yep, is everything-“

You cut yourself off as Bobby pushes the door open, his face angled up to avoid you.

“I said I’m decent, Bobby, you can look.”

He grunts, and you sit up a little straighter, making your voice a little firmer.

“It’s weirder if you don’t, you know.”

Bobby nods, his gaze slowly dropping to yours as he sits on the toilet, bracing his arms on his knees. “Sorry.” He mutters. “Ain’t tryin’ to make it uncomfortable. Just not lookin’ to see one of my, uh-“

“I know,” you sigh, leaning your head back on the tile. “I get it. Must be weird seeing Dean as well.”

“Eh.” Bobby shrugs. “I’ve walked in on him with lady company before, this ain’t new-“

“But it’s new with me?” You ask, raising your brows, and Bobby glares at you.

“I didn’t help raise you girl. And you’re just as important to me as those boys, but you’re also a girl. I mean, not a girl, but I don’t got those parts-“

“Jesus, Bobby.” You mumble, bringing your knees up to your chest. “I’m teasing. I know what you mean, I promise, just,” you swallow, shaking your head slightly. “Sorry. I’m tired.”

Bobby rolls his eyes, but his voice becomes a little softer, and far less panicked. “That ain’t nice, kid, you’re gonna give an old man a heart attack.”

“You’d be fine. I know CPR.”

He gives you a flat look. “We both know you ain’t in any condition to give me CPR.”

You wave him off. “I’d call Sam.”

“He wouldn’t hear you, he’s down in the panic room with-“

Bobby cuts himself off, and you roll your head to the side, giving him a bored glare.

“You can say his name, Bobby.”

“Fine.” He grunts. “Sam’s down checkin’ on Dean. He,” Bobby frowns at the air. ��He still ain’t listenin’ to reason.”

You hum, hoping Bobby doesn’t notice how you’ve moved the towel between your thighs, just for something. “Reason?”

“We don’t have anythin’ to cure this except, uh, that way.” Bobby mutters. “And he’s still insistin’ we keep him chained up.”

“Ah.” You swallow. “Awesome.”

Bobby says your name, and it’s gentle. Like he’s consulting a child who’s had a nightmare, instead of a grown woman who was just finger-fucking herself in a tub. “You don’t gotta pretend this ain’t hurtin’ you.”

“I mean, it doesn’t feel good-“

“Not the spell.” Bobby says, and you frown at him.

“What-“

“Dean. He’s bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass, and you don’t need to act like he’s not.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “He’s not what?”

“Killin’ you.” Bobby grunts, scanning over your face. “Rippin’ your heart out and take a big fat shit on it.”

You grimace. “That’s gross, Bobby-“

“Truth ain’t always sunshine and glitter-“

“It’s not the truth!” You snap, your voice suddenly harsh as something wilts and twists in his your chest. “I’m fine! I get it! Dean doesn’t want to do that, and that’s not his fault.”

Bobby leans back on the toilet, holding your glare with his own. “Why do you think you and Dean are the only idjits gettin’ hit by this? Why isn’t Sam humpin’ pillows and leavin’ stains on my walls?”

You feel a rush of heat from that thought—the image of Dean fucking into his hand flashing through your mind and leaving a mark between your thighs—and your voice is almost a squeak. “Because Dean’s the one that got hit?”

“Sam says he was in the line of that bitch’s fire too. But only Dean got,” Bobby makes a vague gesture over you. “This.”

“I don’t-“

“And Sam ain’t in love with his fuckin’ brother, so he was safe.”

You flush, gaping at Bobby for a long, wired silence, and when you speak your voice is a squeak.

“I- I’m, I’m not in love with Dean. I mean, maybe I have a crush, or something, but that’s, that’s not love-“

Bobby gives you a flat, disbelieving look. “You feel safer ‘round him?”

“Yeah, but I-“

“You laugh at all his jokes?”

“Maybe, but he can be funny-“

Bobby mutters your name, shaking his head. “I love that boy like a son, and he ain’t half as funny as he thinks he is.”

You frown. “He’s funny-“

“He can be,” Bobby shrugs. “But his jokes ain’t all winners. And you laugh at every single oneof ‘em. And,” he sighs, rubbing his beard. “He laughs at all’a your jokes.”

“Hey.” You scowl. “I’m a riot-“

“Didn’t say you weren’t. But even you can miss, girl. And he never seems to care.”

“So?” You shuffle on the floor, desperate not to starting grinding on the air in front of Bobby, but getting more and more wet from just the mention of Dean. “We’re friends, friends laugh at each other’s jokes-“

“Do friends get connected by sex spells ‘cross state lines?”

“I dunno,” you mumble. “Never been hit by a sex spell before.”

“You weren’t hit by one,” Bobby snaps your name, starting to sound exasperated. “Dean was. And that’s my damn point. Sam and I, we,” he sighs, giving you a long, confusing look. “We got it. We know what’s goin’ on.”

“Fuck,” you sit up, glowering at him. “Why didn’t you lead with that-“

“Cause you ain’t gonna like it.” Bobby grunts. “It’s an old location spell. Back in the day rich assholes would cast it on their highest eldest sons, so he could find his,” Bobby cringes, his last word pushed through his teeth. “Mate.”

“Mate?” You repeat, letting out a dry, huffing laugh. “What are we, fucking dogs-“

“Soulmate.” Bobby mutters, giving you a look that might have been sympathetic, or kind, or pitiful, but you’re suddenly a little dizzy and can’t really think or see.

“That’s not,” you shake your head. “No, Bobby, soulmates aren’t real-“

Bobby says your name, his voice stern. “You should know better than to say somethin’ like that in our line of work. Sam called Cas, and he said they’re real, but population increases or somethin’ made them ‘logistically impossible’, so they aren’t on the shop line no more.”

“But- But wouldn’t we have like, I don’t know, noticed? If that was true?”

“You shoulda.” Bobby shrugs. “Cas seemed pretty shocked you hadn’t. Said he had assumed you knew, because the pull is like a magnet or some shit. Spell’s only an enhancer, to move the train along.”

“So why-“

“You hopped in right after Dean got back from hell.” Bobby mutters. “Dean’s soul mighta been fucked enough not to recognize you. Spell mighta jumpstarted it.”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

It’s a few minutes before you speak again, and Bobby waits patiently as you spiral. Down, down, down in your head, trying to rationalize how this could possibly be true. It couldn’t be true. There was no way it was true. Sure, you’ve liked Dean since you first met him, from the moment he introduced himself with a cocky grin, smirk, and fake name. You liked him even more when you called him out on his fake name, and he’d just chuckled, figured out you were a hunter, and offered to buy you a drink. You’d liked him when that drink had turned into a long, sleepless night of only conversation, and when you’d joined him and Sam on the road. And you’d kept thinking of him like that, and you thought of him all the time, but that didn’t mean anything. You didn’t love him. It’s not like you feel better when you wake up in a motel bed and he’s next to you, or a smile always tugs at your lips whenever he so much as looks at you, or the thought of him being in alone or pain makes you physically ill. It’s not like, if he grabbed your hand and told you he was done with hunting—the only life you’d ever both known—then asked you to join him in a boring, easy apple pie life you’d immediately say yes and kiss him, because you’ll go wherever he goes and he’s the only person you’ve ever really-

Oh.

You might be in love with Dean.

You might be soulmates with Dean.

“What, um,” you swallow, watching Bobby carefully. “What did Dean think? Of this?”

“We have told him yet.” Bobby’s jaw ticks, holding your gaze. “We ain’t sure he’ll-“

“Yeah.” You whisper, turning your attention back to the ceiling. There’s a little crack on it. Jagged and split through the white paint, easy to stare at and get lost in. Helpful in pretending this doesn’t hurt like a bitch. “Okay.”

Bobby mutters a promise of at least trying to talk some sense into Dean, but you both know his words are empty. Because Dean won’t believe this. It won’t be a matter of you and Dean, it will just be Dean, believing something like a soulmate could never happen to someone like him. He’ll insist they’re lying, or Cas is wrong, or all of this fucking bullshit.

“You ever wondered about aliens?” He’d asked you once, leaning against the Impala as you lay on the hood, watching him from an upside-down angle.

“Just like, in general?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess,” you’d tilted your head at him. “Why?”

“I dunno, just curious.” There had been another moment of silence, then, “You think they’re real?”

“They have to be right?” You’d reached over your head, grabbing his chin and tilting it up, until he was staring at the night sky. “I mean, look at that, De. It’s huge.”

He’d chuckled, swatting your hand away. “Where have I heard that before-“

“Eat me, Winchester.” You’d rolled your eyes, and his shit-eating grin had grown. “No. Shut it.”

He’d raised his hands in surrender. “Didn’t say a thing.”

“Uh huh.” You’d let your own attention trail up, over the vast darkness above you, splattered in infinite stars that you think—if you really tried—you’d be able to grab and hold in your hands. Maybe offer one to Dean. He’d deserve it.

You were silent for a while longer, you watching the sky, Dean waiting for you to come back to earth, and when he’d spoken again his voice was soft.

“You think you’d want to go? If they were?”

You’d looked back to him with a frown, and found him already looking at you. “What, aliens?”

He’d nodded, and you’d furrowed your brow in thought.

“Maybe. I’ve never thought about it before. I kind of like Earth.” You’d rolled onto your stomach, swinging your legs around to rest in Baby’s open window as you looked down at Dean. “What about you?”

“Nah,” he’d held your gaze, pulling himself up to sit at your side. “Not now.”

“Not now?”

“I would’ve when I was younger, if I coulda taken Sammy with me.” Dean had let out a dry chuckle. “But I’m not that lucky.”

He wasn’t that lucky. Dean didn’t get to be abducted by aliens, because he wasn’t lucky. Because saviors and little lights to guide you forward don’t just drop out of the sky.

But you didn’t drop out of the sky. You’d been on the ground, and tangible, and very, very real.

You feel real, to yourself. You didn’t feel like a possibility, or a myth, or a lie.

And you might love Dean.

And you know that, the longer you don’t get to at least see him, touch him, breathe him, the more you go mad. The harder it becomes to speak to Sam and Bobby when they check on you, the less you allow them to even say the word Dean, because it makes you writhe and moan and everyone just gets very uncomfortable.

So if Dean’s too much of a righteous, noble, self-loathing buttface to do something about this, you will.

You wait until the house is dark and quiet. Until you hear Bobby mutter a goodnight through the door—about an hour ago you’d started whining every other breath and fucking the edge of the bathtub, so Bobby wasn’t coming into the room anymore—and Sam walks in backwards to make sure you’re not dead and have enough food and water. Like you’re a caged animal.

You do feel a little like one. You feel like someone’s sucked everything rational and careful out of your brain and replaced it with Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean, you need him or you’ll die. He needs to need you, or something worse than death will happen.

And you’re willing to risk that, that small possibility of Dean looking at you—bare and wet and pleading for him—and still turning you away, because at least you’ll see him.

You need to at least see him.

It’s shocking easy to sneak around the house. For two seasoned, well-respected hunters, neither Sam nor Bobby seem to wake up as you crawl down to Dean, despite the floorboard creaking under you movements and the downright pathetic whimpers that keep escaping your mouth. It takes all your focus to grab the key to Bobby’s panic room, unlock the door, and push it open.

It’s dark. Pitch black. But you know Dean’s in here, because every nerve is trying to fly off your body and into the shadows. To Dean.

“What the hell are you doing,” Dean groans your name from the back of the room, and you feel molten. “You can’t be here-“

“It’s not your panic room, Dean.” You mumble, pushing yourself up on the wall and fiddling around for the light switch. “I can be wherever I want-“

“Not here.” Dean snaps. “Go.”

You shake your head, and the lights blind you as you flip them on. It takes a moment to adjust—blinking and hugging your body in a desperate play to not leap across the room to Dean the moment you see him—and when you do a high whine escapes your mouth.

Dean looks as feral as you feel. He’s just as naked as you are, just as drenched in sweat and flushed, and—if the proud, massive cock between his legs, standing at full attention and twitching as he scans over you, is any sign—just as aroused.

“Dean.” You whisper. “Please.”

“You need to leave.” He grunts, his fists clenched at his sides. “Now.”

“I don’t want to go-“

“Yes, you do.”

You frown. “You don’t get to tell me what I want, Dean. I want to stay-“

“No,” he hisses, and you might come just from him looking at you like that. Primal and wanting, with a gleam in his eyes that feels like a promise. “You don’t know what you want-“

That gets you to scoff. “Fuck off, asshole-“

“See!” He makes a dramatic gesture, then flinches back from himself. “I, I can’t let you do this. You don’t want me,” Dean mutters your name, running a hand over his face. “The spell wants me. Doesn’t count.”

“Yeah, the spell does want you, you idiot!” You take an unsteady step forward, and he steps back. “Because I want you!”

“No, you don’t-“

“Yes, I do! I need you, Dean, and I think you need me-“

“Doesn’t matter what I need.” He grunts, bracing his body and you take another step. “Go back upstairs.”

“Did Bobby talk to you?”

He scowls. “Bobby’s wrong. That’s- No.”

“Because it’s me?”

“Of course not,” he snaps, and it’s too quick. “Because that, that’s not a thing. People would be runnin’ around, selling soulmates in little bottles if they were real. And we’d have known by now-“

“We do know now.” You whisper, swaying slightly in the middle of the room. “And Cas says-“

“Cas is wrong.” Dean mutters. “I don’t, there’s no way that’s true. Not for me.”

His beautiful, deep eyes look so sad. Glossed over and weighted down of years of that being the truth. That things like that, like this, don’t happen for Dean.

You’d really love to be the first exception.

“What about for me?”

“What are you-“

“What about for me, Dean.” You watch his jaw clench, his nostrils flaring. “Does it get to be true for me?”

He doesn’t answer, and you push on.

“If it’s true for me, it’s you.” You talk another step forward, and this time he doesn’t flinch. “Just you.”

“It’s just the spell.” He mutters, and you don’t think he’s convincing himself. Not when his throat bobs and his eyes darken. “You don’t want me, baby, not really.”

You almost fall over from that. From Dean calling you baby, and saying it the exact same way he says your name. Low and rolling and lined with something soft.

“I do.” You hold your ground, raising your chin. “I want you, Dean Winchester. Fix this.”

He shakes his head, barely a jerked movement, and you start to feel a little faint.

“Dean. I need you to look me in the eyes,” your voice starts to rise, growing pleading and frantic. “And tell me you don’t want me. Say that you wanting me is just the spell, and I’ll go. I promise. I just need to you to fucking say it, Dean, just fucking say you don’t want me or need me or love me-“

He moves before you even realize what’s happening. Almost leaping onto you as his mouth crashed into yours, his hands cupping your face as he walks you back, back, back into the wall and growls down your throat. And you’d been wrong. His hand on you don’t feel like small bursts of electricity. They’re like lighting. Dragging something you hadn’t known existed to the surface, and setting off a storm of need in your body.

“Course I want you,” one arm snakes around your waist, pressing your right into his erection. “Always fucking wanted you. You’re smoking hot,” he starts to kiss over your face, his words slightly muffled against your skin as you cling to his body. “Funnier than I am, and smart as hell. You feel like home and smell so good and, fuck, I’ve lost sleep thinkin’ about how it’d feel to get lost in you. I’d have to be fucking blind and dumb not to want you,” Dean grunts your name, returning your mouth to yours with a painfully soft, gentle, featherlight kiss. “But I’m not-“

“If you say good for me,” you mutter, leaning back to glare at him. “I’ll punch you.” He chuckles, and it’s dry and low, rumbling from his chest into yours. “I’m not-“

“You are.” You whisper, offering him a small, slightly broken smile. You need him to get this. You might start crying if he doesn’t. “You’re good for me. And I want you. I love you.” Something flashes in his eyes, and you don’t care if he believes you. He doesn’t have to believe you. He just needs to get it. “No spell, Dean. I’m here, and I’m yours. Take me.”

Your nails dig into his skin—attempting to leave a mark of him if he turns you away—and his breathing is ragged. Heavy and hot, fanning across your face as he stares at you, just stares at you, why is he just staring at you-

“Dean-“

This kiss is brutal It’s teeth and tongue and bruising lips, like he’s trying to move into your body. His hands are everywhere on you, squeezing your ass and palming your tits, rolling your nipple between two fingers before groaning down your throat when you moan.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters your name, his hand on your ass glides onto your pussy, playing with your folds and flicking at your clit once, twice, three times and you feel fucking high- “So wet for me-“

“For you,” you whimper, nodding stupidly as Dean presses him thumb down on that bundle of nerves, rubbing slowly. “Fuck, Dean, all for you-“ 

“Need to taste you,” he growls, pulling his mouth fully back, watching you grind onto his hand with a dark gaze. “You gonna let me taste you, baby? Let me eat that pretty pussy-“ 

You’ve barely nodded before he’s on his knees, one arm still around your waist to support you both as he dives into your cunt. 

Oh.

He’s good at this. Really, really fucking good at this. You can’t really think anything that’s not Dean, or make any noise that’s not a moan kind of good at this. He’s ravenous and starved, his nose bumping and pressing into your clit in an impossibly mind-numbing rhythm, his tongue plunging in and out of your cunt until your squirming above him, desperate for more.

“Dean,” your hand tug at his hair, and you don’t know if you’re trying to push him deeper or pull him away. “Shit, Dean, I’m gonna cum-“

He groans against you, his eyes opening to watch you come apart above him, and you think he might be getting off on this.

“Please,” you whimper. “God, please, I need to cum-“

Dean bites your clit, and your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. It’s all bliss and relief and a high, bright haze of Dean, and then you’re falling down.

Dean’s pulling you down. Onto his lap as he leans back, moving you to straddle over him as his cock throbs between his legs.

You want to touch him.

You push back on him, just enough for his grip to loosen, and take him in your hand. He’s huge. And pretty. Dicks aren’t supposed to be pretty, but Dean’s is, and it might be because every part of Dean is pretty. Every part of him is impossible pretty, from his cock twitching in your hand as you run your thumb over the slit, to his lidded eyes and parted mouth as he watches you with wonder.

“Shit,” he moans your name, and fuck, even that was pretty. “What are you doing to me-“

“Handjob,” you whisper, placing your free hand lightly on his chest in a silent request for him to lay back. “I think.”

Dean huffs a laugh, leaning back with a smirk. “Ya think? You sure you know what you’re doing with that- Fuck-“

You hum around Dean’s cock, your lips wrapped around the base as your tongue swirls around his shaft, and his groans are sinful. The fire in your corse hadn’t lessened by any means from your orgasm, but it grows unbearable as you move Dean’s hand to your hair and let him guide you up and down. Let him set the pace, moaning when his hips jerk and he hits the back of your throat, and squeezing his thighs in silent reassurance that you’re good. You’re really, really good. You’re grinding onto Dean’s knee as he fucks your face, playing with his balls with your free hand and devouring every bit of slightly slurred praise that falls from his mouth.

“Fucking hell, baby, you always been this good at sucking cock? You’re, shit, you look like a wet dream, look like an angel, fuck.” He hisses at your teeth graze over him. “You look so good like this. Mouth stuffed full of cock, desperate and wet for me-“ You roll your hips against him, and Dean tugs you fully up, smirking at your swollen lips and glossy eyes. “Careful,” he warns, sitting up as his thumb swipes a little bit of drool from your cheek. “When I’m cumming tonight, I’m cumming in you, baby, got that?”

“Yes, please,” you whimper. You’re on the pill anyway. “Dean-“

“C’mere.” He tugs you into his lap with careful hands, scanning over you with a small shake of his head. “Son of bitch, you’re gorgeous. You’re sure you-“

“I’m sure.” You grind against his cock, never looking away from him as the head of him bumps your clit. It goes on for too long, Dean just watching you fuck yourself on his lap with his hands bruising your hips, and you start to whine. “Shit, Dean, need you-“

Dean surges forward, kissing you long and deep and slow, and keeps his brow pressed to yours as he looks down to where you’re moving on him.

“Hold on,” he mutters, and you follow the order without a second thought.

Your arms wrap around Dean’s neck just as he lines himself up, and you almost scream when he pushes into you.

“Shit,” he looks back at you, eyes wide. “Are you-“

“Don’t stop,” you moan, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Fuck, it feels so good, Dean, don’t stop.”

He nods, kissing the side of your head, and slowly moves into your aching pussy until he bottoms out with a long exhale.

“Gonna, fuck-“ He groans as you squeeze around him. “Can’t do that, baby, I won’t last a minute-

“Sorry,” you mumble against him, playing with the short, soft hair at the nape of his neck. “Didn’t meant to-“

“It’s fine.” He grunts, still not moving. “Just, fuck, you feel so good. So warm,” he groans, pressing his face onto the top of your head. “So tight and warm, feel so good-“

“Dean, please-“

You gasp as he gives one, short thrust upward.

“So good,” Dean growls in your ear, making another small, dizzying movement that presses him right up against that spongey spot deep inside of you. “Ready?”

“Ye-“

You squeal as Dean rises to his knees, keeping himself sheathed inside you as he falls forward, his hand splayed on your back and holding you carefully against him. His face is resting between your breasts, his cock angled so deep inside you it might drive you insane if he doesn’t start to fucking move, and his eyes stay yours as you only watch each other for a long moment.

He’s asking permission. Dean’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving, because he’s offering you one last chance to turn him down. 

You move one hand to hold his face, wrapping your legs around his waist and squirming around him in silent encouragement.

It snaps something in him. Dean grabs your hand, moves it onto the back of his neck, and lowers you fully onto the ground so you’re caged between him and floor. He scans over you for only a second, a small, cocky smirk crawling onto his face, leans down to give you one last, almost sweet kiss.

A soft moan leaves you as Dean traces his tongue over your lips, and his low growl is the only warning you get before he starts to fuck into you like an animal.

It’s sloppy and wet and loud, skin slapping against skin as Dean abuses your cunt, and fuck you’ve never felt better. You feel full, split open on his cock and right where you belong, alive in a way that seeps right into your soul and ignites your blood into a holy fire of Dean. Groaning your name on your skin and touching you with calloused, big, expert hands. Watching you as you unravel beneath him, scraping your nails over his back and making needy sounds that only spur him on.

You’re going to fly out of your body. Dean’s muscles are ripping above and around you as he fucks you into the floor, and his mouth is mold perfectly onto yours. Neither of you seem to care to breathe, or speak, or do anything but nips and suck and lick at each other. Trying to get impossibly closer, to drag the other over the edge so you can fall with them. You grind up into Dean, and Dean bites your lip. Dean rolls his hips as he bottoms out, making your mouth fall open for his tongue to plunge down your throat, and you scrape and claw as his chest until he groans, and you manage to slip one hand down to play with his balls.

He wins he swats your hand away and starts to rub small, firm circles on your clit. He’s unrelenting, and watching you with an affection that feels a little misplaced for the carnal hunger on his handsome features.

“Always want you,” he mutters your name, pressing his thumb flat against you. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your vision blurs as you find release, and it feels like heaven. Like stars and fire and water and light under your skin, in your blood, like a halo around your head that’s all just the pleasure Dean’s is still wringing from your body. Your pussy is fluttering and gushing around his cock, and it sends him over the edge with a roar, his hips slamming home as he paints the walls of your cunt white.

And when you’re both spent and Dean rolls you over—carefully adjusting you to be right on top of him, his body a barrier between you and the now-cold floor—you feel good. Really, really good. Fucked out and high, nothing trying to burst out of your skin or eat at your stomach. You feel better than you might have ever felt in your whole life. The only warmth in your body is heat you’re trading with Dean, and you feel good.

“We, um.” You trace over his tattoo, looking up at him under your eyelashes. “We should probably talk, or something-“

“Or something.” He agrees, grinning down at you. “Don’t feel like it’s a rush though. Sammy and Bobby will find us in the morning. Right now,” Dean kisses your brow, squeezing his arms around your body. “You’re all mine.”

You can be all his. It’ll be really, really easy to be all Dean, because he hasn’t said he loves you, but he does. You know he does. It lives in how he’s still touching and holding you, still talking to you like you’re his best friend and not a mistake, and running his hands through your hair mindlessly.

And you’ll have a lot to talk about later. A lot to fight about, and fuck about, and laugh and cry and scream about.

But right now you just have to be Dean’s.

And that will be really easy.

End Note: Bobby Singer you are fifty times the father John Winchester could ever HOPE to be.

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

Taglist

@artemys-ackles @ambiguous-avery

[viktorthemachineherald]

Thinking about the parallels in Arcane of death, rebirth and acceptance.

Just as how Vi never fully accepts that Jinx is no longer Powder, Jayce struggles with accepting that Viktor is no longer the Viktor he once knew.

“My partner died in this room”. “There must be some part of you still in there”. Killing Viktor without even speaking a word to him because he is so vehemently convinced that his Viktor is gone.

Yes, knowing what he knows about the anomaly and the destruction it lays waste to, it’s reasonable that Jayce sets out to stop Viktor. What’s striking to me is how he never makes an attempt to even approach Viktor peacefully about it. He doesn’t bother to because he already firmly believes that his partner is no longer there.

The truth is, it's simpler for Jayce to believe that the real Viktor no longer exists, than to accept that his idealized version of his partner is gone. The “real” Viktor would have stayed. The “real” Viktor wouldn’t have walked away from him. Jayce would rather believe that his partner has been lost to the Hexcore than accept his part in Viktor becoming the “monster” he created— first when he failed to destroy the Hexcore, thereby saving Viktor’s life; and second when he took it from him.

Because the thing is: Jayce never fully saw Viktor. There is Viktor his partner, but there is also Viktor from the Undercity, as Viktor served to remind him. He was so used to Viktor as his partner, as a constant, that he was oblivious to how Viktor had already been shying away and distancing himself long before that. “Our paths diverged long ago”, as Viktor served to remind him.

For his part, I don't think Jayce was being intentionally oblivious. I believe you can love someone without fully seeing them. I think Jayce loved Viktor (platonically, romantically, call it what you will,) in the purest sense as an individual, that he was able to see past Viktor's status as a Zaunite, or his disability. But this in turn blinded him from being able to fully understand Viktor's struggles and his ideals.

It’s only at the end that Jayce finally puts everything together. He reconciles the Viktor before him, with the Viktor he thought he knew but never truly saw:

There is Viktor, his partner.

There is also Viktor, driven by desperation of his impending mortality.

Viktor, driven by his guilt of failing to do good in the pursuit of great.

Viktor, who always sought to cure his leg and disease, who sought to put an end to needless pain and suffering.

All of that is Viktor.

And finally, Jayce understands. He accepts Viktor after everything he’s done. He acknowledges the choices Viktor has made, and his faults:

All as an inseparable piece of everything that makes up Viktor.

[brainrotfm]

draft title: fat cock slow sex, sukuna x f!reader

divider credits to @cafekitsune

sukuna liked you best when you were thrashing.

he had no interest in restraints, binding your hands or feet in silly straps or cuffs to keep you still, having had several lifetimes worth of entrapment and no reason to ensnare you the same, not when he was twice your size and exponentially stronger than you could ever perceive.

no, he wanted you like this, at all times - splayed out unashamedly, blubbering nonsensically, hips wriggling for friction, small fists beating at his chest, trying to spurn a moment of reprieve or relief, whatever came quicker for the little darling trapped beneath your chosen predator.

why were you in such distress?

well, because sukuna loved taking your sopping, plushy little cunt and splitting her in half, bullying the fat girth of his cock as deep as possible before… just... stopping.

every. fucking. time. you should know better by now, always getting yourself into this mess, your fault for loving the most sadistic creature known to history —

a creature indeed, as sukuna rumbles above you, able to feel the timbre against the backs of your legs where they sat flush against his broad chest. his growling earned him a pitiful whimper in return, body twitching back and forth beneath his sheer mass, as if there was any hope for escape.

“so fucking wet for me, woman.”

“love sinking my cock into you and feeling this sweet pussy spasm around me.”

“should i sit here forever, just feeling your little cunt flex for me?”

of course, he won't move unless you beg for it. why should he? this is his favorite way to take you, after all - cunt clenching endlessly, clinging to his cock, weeping to be stuffed full of his cum whenever he pleased. he has no reason to indulge you unless you really put up a fight, and even then, he'll taunt you all the same. but beg you do, as you always do, happily the loser of this battle when this was a neverending game of his maintaining his attention.

“you sure, brat? i can always get you off just like this,” and he punctuated his point with a rough slide of his thumb over your slit, catching at your clit and pressing, “let you cum all over my cock without even moving, be my selfish little whore tonight. yeah?”

it's not enough though, never truly satisfying to finish like that, your hips twitching toward the sensation of being filled completely, satiated fully, the way that only sukuna could. only he knew how to cure the ache throbbing in your naval.

“okay little one, but you asked for it. we don’t stop til I say we stop.”

finally, finally he sat back on his heels, but there would be no mercy for you.

sukuna picked up your hips from where they rested against his impossibly large thighs, his eyes losing their focus on you. now, his gaze was trained on that delicious, glimmering cunt of yours, still pulsating around his cock, your anticipation drooling out of you. slowly, so slowly it would drive you insane, sukuna began to drag his cock back out of your perfect little heat, spit pooling in his mouth as he salivated at the sight. no point in wasting it - he spits down at the place your bodies connect, easing the pull, eliciting a twin shudder from both of you at the noise.

the problem with his misdirected focus was that it took forever for either of you to cum like this, which was the point, but you detested him sometimes for it, you really did. even if he let out the breathiest sighs of enjoyment, having you like this, that made your spine curl inside you.

when he has you right where he wants you, whimpering like a little bitch in heat, wide eyed simmering with want and unshed tears as he simply enjoys himself. inching himself out, and there's so much of him, dragging through you until the fat mushroom tip of his cock bulged the sensitive ring of your entrance - before plunging his hips forward, fucking you full in an instant, kicking the breath right out of your lungs.

your impatience was beginning to show as your hips wriggled, your breaths slipping an octave higher as a whine passed your lips right as sukuna began the slow drag out of you once again. he sighed dreamily above you, practically purring as he grinned at the trails of tears actively staining your cheeks,

“that's it, little one, cry for me. make me cum with those pretty tears."

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Now playing: if u think i'm pretty - Artemas won't you give that shit a rest? Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[sillyzeta]

fated to pretend.

prologue.

platonic yan!batfamily x blind!reader

your entire life was in Paris, France. First you were raised by such a greedy woman and then abandoned for her, you never thought you'd have more family, then a millionaire woman took pity on you and adopted you as her beautiful daughter.

Your life was good, the only bad thing is that you will never be able to appreciate the beauty of the world, you were born without sight, at first it had been a complete curse but soon you adapted and somehow, you improved your own senses. Despite that, you were a little overprotected by the woman you called your mother, but that was okay; you understood her reasons perfectly, almost.

Years had passed, you turned 11 years old and on your birthday, a man appeared, you didn't know him and you definitely didn't know what he looked like, he was just a man, possibly in his 40s, His voice was so deep and hoarse, the fatigue was evident from inches away, but people who are only interested in power recognize status and appearance.

It turned out that your mother was a scammer and had managed to get into the billionaire's bed, As a result, you were born and the woman having achieved her goal, had escaped with money in her hands.

It was a painful story, it really was, but it didn't hurt you at all. A long time ago you stopped considering her your mother and focused on what you could do with your disability.

Leyla, that was the name of the woman, who had made a deal with the billionaire, Bruce Wayne. An agreement that you never knew the parts of, so you could only accept it and leave your home, friends, and life.

The day of your departure was painful, Leyla crying because unfortunately she didn't have that much power in your custody and in the end, true parents win the battle. And so you said goodbye, you got on the plane, and you looked back, you were going to miss your life in Paris.

On the plane, the man didn't say much and neither did you, you didn't see the need to talk to the strange man who claims to be your father when you really don't know if he means it. And even if it is true, you feel that you would have no obligation to call him father in your life.

Your hands played with each other, while you kept your head down, you were undecided whether or not to ask the man in front of you the reasons why he adopted you and how he found you but it was better to be direct once and for all.

‘Sir... I wanna ask you, why you adopt me?’ a soft but direct voice, even if you couldn't see you felt the atmosphere so tense and uncomfortable, surely he had a grudge against the woman for stealing. ‘I really don't know anything about you, nor did I know that woman was a thief.’

‘—You... could have ignored me and moved on with your life, don't you think?’

Suddenly everything went back to silence, this man definitely made you feel more uncomfortable than you thought and you hated how he just stayed silent for a long time, 10 minutes passed and he spoke, finally.

‘I loved your mother... So why did she do it?’ the same question you asked yourself for almost 9 years, “she did it because she wanted to”, that was what you wanted to answer so much, but you had noticed that the man really felt betrayed and you couldn't help but feel empathy for the first time.

‘I don't know, I never fully understood her despite being her daughter, I'll tell you one thing Mr. Wayne.’ You let out such a long sigh, the first conversation and it was already total chaos, a whirlwind full of emotions.‘Don't reflect her on me, I don't want to have anything to do with that woman, you didn't see it but I did, I saw her true nature.’

The air grew tense and Bruce let out a growl. He wanted to tell the girl in front of him that she knew nothing, that she was the best woman he'd ever met, but... was it true? She... She just... sigh.

‘I'm not stupid, I know what this world is like, I was born with this disability and I'll never be able to cure it.’

‘— You sought me out just for what? She sent you a letter admitting her sins and saying there was a daughter of hers missing in France? How stupid.’ Maybe it was your mistake to vent to that man, to your father, but you couldn't help but feel that he had simply idealized the woman who gave birth to you too much and from time to time, We must give a reality check to those who need it most.

Those were the last words you ever spoke to him, Bruce. The journey continued and after that, you stayed quiet simply letting out another tired sigh and focusing on something other than going to an unknown place.

[pinkpinkmermayyy]

Part 1 of the Transformers One Tangled AU!

thank you so much @sassycandypoetry for helping me with the different parts and concepts of the tangled au, so here's part 1! Part 2 might have more time until it comes out due to school but I hope ya'll enjoy this first part!

tw for this part: childbirth, kidnapping

Also here's some vocabulary I might need to clarify for those who aren't that informed on cybertronian terms:

Groon: an hour

Cycle: a year

Jour: a month

Helm: head

Servo: hand

Digit: finger

Also, when the text is in italics, Starscream is narrating

let me know if I missed anything else!

taglist: @punkeropercyjackson @aishabellasbigblogofeverything @akifandragon

(also let me know if you want to be on the taglist or if you want to be removed!)

---

This… is the story of how I died…

No no, don’t worry, this is a pretty fun story, especially when you compare it to my previous missions, but the truth is, it’s not even mine. This is the story of a mech named Bee.

And it all starts with the Earth’s sun.

A long time ago, cycles before the fall of the Primes, it was discovered that a single drop of sunlight had fallen from the Earth’s atmosphere and onto the organic planet. From that drop of sunlight grew a magical, golden flower. It had the power to heal the sick and injured, and upon the discovery of this powerful resource, the Primes sought to protect it and make sure it didn’t fall into the wrong servos.

Alpha Trion in particular was responsible for this flower. Flowers, in general, have never been a part of Cybertron’s ecosystem, so he’d come up with the plan to create a secret room as a part of the Prime’s headquarters where oxygen was always present, and a device was placed right above the flower that acted as a sun for it to receive the proper nutrients alongside the H2O that Alpha Trion fed it. The flower was protected, and it never fell into the wrong servos.

That was until Sentinel betrayed the Primes and allied with the Quintessons. After killing the Primes, he immediately took the flower along with the sun device and kept it to himself, using it selfishly to stay young and healthy forever. And all he had to do was recite a simple incantation.

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine,” Sentinel sang, sitting on one knee as his hands orbited around the plant, glowing a bright yellow-golden. “make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine.”

“Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine, what once was mine…” He felt his scratches and injuries heal along with any signs of rusting smooth over, a cool tingling sensation on his frame, and he smiled in satisfaction.

You get the gist, he sings and suddenly he’s all new, creepy right?

Sentinel was able to keep this plant a secret and away from the public eye, but that all changed when a certain miner couple were in dire need of a cure, and heard of the flower and its properties.

D-16 kneeled near his and Orion’s shared berth, holding on to Orion’s servo. His lover looked over to the grey miner weakly, barely managing to smile, as if still trying to bring his spirits up despite his condition. D-16 smiled back to reassure Orion knowing fully it was false, and affectionately kissed the back of Orion’s servo.

 It started 6 jours into Orion’s carrying period, with a weak cough and warm face plate. Then it was a nasal voice and watery eyes, a sneeze here and there. The miners just thought it was a case of short circuits and insulation damage due to the freezing temperatures of the mines, and even the sick weren’t allowed to leave their shifts. But then one day, while digging for more energon, Orion had collapsed, leaving D-16 in a terrible panic as he frantically carried him back into their small shared room. Of course, Darkwing had ordered them back but D-16 ignored it, leaving the larger authority figure to mutter about how “miners shouldn’t be getting carelessly knocked up.”

Now it was 8 jours into Orion carrying his and D-16’s sparkling, and there was no sign of him getting better. When one of the medics assigned to the miners grimly told D-16 that Orion and the sparkling would die and that there was no cure for his condition, he collapsed into a puddle of tears. He never told Orion this; he didn’t want to burden his lover even more, and he couldn’t even look Orion in the eye to avoid crying again.

He coped by working endlessly, mining even when their shifts were over. The other miners noticed but didn’t dare to speak to him, worried they might provoke him to snap. Elita-1 was the first to break this silence, bearing more than sympathy and “sorry”s for D-16.

“What is it?” D-16 asked, his gaze lowered as the pink bot walked over to him. It was late at night, and most other miners were taking advantage of the time they got to rest, but D-16 mindlessly swept the floors to keep him busy. She gave him a pitying look before continuing, something D-16 didn’t appreciate. Elita got straight to the point.

“I think there’s something that could save Orion and your sparkling.”

D-16 scoffed, not looking up. “Last I heard the medic said he was going to die and I just have to deal with it,” he said in a cynical tone.

“I’m serious, D-16. if you want to at least try to save your conjux, follow me.”

D-16 looked up to see Elita walking away, and he begrudgingly followed her, catching up to her quickly. “Where are we even going?” 

She ignored him, leading him into the archives, going deeper and deeper through the aisles of Cybertronian knowledge. She only stopped until she had reached the edge of the room, something D-16 didn’t even think existed due to how vast the Archives seemed. 

These shelves were much less pristine and shiny than the shelves at the front of the Archives room, and the books were tattered and nearly falling from their spines. Elita carefully picked up a light green book in a similar condition, and the author that was listed on the bottom of the cover was scratched out ominously. Elita slowly flipped the pages to the one she desired, which featured a hazy illustration of what seemed to be a plant with yellowish petals. D-16 had never seen anything like it.

“I was afraid that they would find this book and censor it but it’s still here, and this,” she said, pointing to the illustration, “may just help you.”

She squinted her optics to whisper out the blurry text. “‘During the 15th and 16th centuries on Earth,’ which is about 10 stellar cycles before the fall of the Primes,” Elita added for D-16’s information before continuing, “‘a drop of sunlight from Earth’s sun fell onto the planet’s soil, and a golden flower grew from it. It is said that the flower could heal all illnesses and injuries, make both bots and humans younger and even reverse death, and the Primes preserved that flower before Sentinel Prime took on the task of protecting it after their demise.’”

“Sentinel Prime?” D-16 said in disbelief. “B-but, how have I not heard of this before?” 

“The book was probably banned after traveling to other planets became illegal. The author was either imprisoned or even executed due to this,” Elita said matter-of-factly. 

D-16 stood up, brows furrowed. Why would he keep such a life-changing resource away from everyone? This could help millions! It might even help…

D-16 realized why Elita brought him here. “But how? How the hell would a miner like me be able to get a plant that is probably highly guarded? And steal from Sentinel of all bots?”

“Just think about this D-16, would Orion do it for you if the roles were switched?”

D-16 paused, pondering over it. 

If he had been the one to get sick instead of Orion, and there was a chance to save him even in the most dangerous possible mission, Orion would have done it. He’d risk losing his life and a limb or two just to save D-16 because he loved him way more than any God, even someone like Sentinel. D-16 slowly nodded in defeat.

“I don’t know about how to use the flower,” Elita started. She smiled, facing D-16 and putting a palm on his shoulder plate. “But the book never said you had to retrieve it alone.”

—

D-16 and Elita ran for as long as they could, not even realizing the rest of Sentinel’s guards had lost them amidst all the panic and chaos. D-16 panted heavily, careful to not drop the flower and blow his whole operation. Their masks made it hard for them to see, the cutouts for their eyes barely giving them sight.

When they finally reached the entrance to D-16 and Orion’s small home, the grey miner looked back at Elita-1 with pure gratitude in his optics.

“Thank you, really. I didn’t think you cared that much about saving Orion.”

Elita-1 smiled back warmly, despite how panic-stricken she had been just a few moments ago. “I know I seem like I only care about my job and being promoted, but I care, truly I do.” 

She then playfully hit D-16’s shoulder plate “But that’s the last time I’m doing something like that, so tell Orion NOT to try to die on us again once he gets better.”

D-16 chuckled. “Sure thing Elita.” She then descended from the premises, as D-16 unlocked the door within the mine shaft’s walls and closed it behind him as he entered.

He felt his spark ache when he saw Orion on the berth, tears streaking his cheeks as he tried to sit up, to no avail. D-16 remembered that Ratchet told him that the illness would become extremely painful for the sick bot in their processor, abdomen area, and hinges, and that was what happened now. D-16 felt awful for leaving his lover here alone for groons, but he knew Orion’s health would become better now with the mysterious plant.

D-16 placed the flower on the table next to the berth, hastily grabbing a spare bottle of liquid energon he had saved and an empty bowl. He poured the energon into the bowl, flinching when a couple of drops spilled. He then set aside the now empty bottle and held the flower slowly, his servos shaking. He didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to use it and didn’t want to accidentally kill the flower, so he submerged it into the bowl as slowly as any bot could move.

To his amazement, the flower started glowing, the golden color from it dissolving into the energon and changing from a vibrant blue to a golden yellow.

D-16 sighed, walking over to Orion with the bowl full of golden energon.

He looked to see if Orion was still awake. He was, and he was looking right at D-16, his eyes filled with pain. D-16 spoke softly.

“Orion, this is going to make you feel better. All you need to do is let me feed you, m’kay?”

Orion nodded, too exhausted to speak, and D-16 kneeled in front of the red-and-blue mech. He reached his servos towards Orion’s open dermas, who consumed the drink until the bowl was empty, the petals now dry grey husks.

D-16 just prayed that Orion’s illness would be gone by morning, as his lover finally fell asleep after hours of excruciating pain. The grey mech lay beside his sleeping partner, and he gave him a small peck on his cheek plate before succumbing to exhaustion as well.

—

It was nearing daytime, and Sentinel strode through the golden halls before any other bots in the building woke up. He held onto his arm and winced slightly in disgust, noticing the rust that had grown on it. 

He of course kept it a secret, but before he betrayed the Primes and took away the flower, he had caught a disease known as Cosmic Rust, where the victim’s body would slowly rust away into nothing. It also made the bot age much quicker than others and could even make it possible for bots to die of old age. There was still no cure for it, so he resigned himself to using the flower’s ability to heal all ailments to subdue it before it returned weeks later as a painful reminder of his curse.

This was the cycle Sentinel had been living by for decades now, but when he reached the room where the flower was kept, the guards were knocked out, the door was wide open, and the flower was gone.

—

The first thing D-16 noticed when he went online was that Orion was absent from his side of the berth, making the grey mech immediately jump to his pedes. He rushed out the door, only to find Orion happily laughing alongside Elita-1 and other miners, walking around and standing on his pedes with no struggle whatsoever. The palm of his servo held his large abdomen as he chatted with the other miners before noticing D-16 walking outside their shared home.

Orion looked over to the shocked D-16, his radiant blue eyes shinier than ever, and gave him a large smile as he waved.

“Mornin’ D!” His voice was bright and loud like it had always been before, and D-16 felt a huge wave of relief and gratefulness wash over him. 

He ran over to Orion and gave him a large hug, managing to be gentle on Orion’s belly before lifting him and spinning him around, placing him down on the floor after a moment. Orion laughed more before D-16 gazed warmly into Orion’s eyes and kissed his dermas passionately. His optics were shut tight, and Orion closed his as he leaned into the kiss before they both pulled away.

—

The days after that were blissful after months of stress and devastation for D-16. Because Orion was now 8 and a half jours into his carrying period, he was dismissed from work until after the sparkling was delivered (to the higher-ups' dismay), relieving D-16 of any more worries about how Orion would fare in his state while mining. The only downside was that Darkwing handed him exceedingly dangerous and strenuous work due to his frustration, but it didn’t bother him as much as it should have. 

That was, until when the sparkling was about to be born. D-16 had dropped everything and ran straight out of the cave, racing towards his home and staying right by Orion’s side as he groaned and hissed out in pain, squeezing his servo in his as he felt a sense of dreadful déjà vu creep up on him upon seeing his conjux’s frame. Other miners crowded out the door but D-16 only allowed Elita-1 and a medic she had hastily called, while everyone else remained curious about the whole situation.

After groons of tension and spiraling intrusive thoughts that invaded D-16’s mind as he stayed by Orion’s side, the sparkling was delivered. While the medic held the fragile and wailing sparkling in her servos, D-16 caressed Orion’s face plate, thanking Primus that Orion was safe and okay. The medic told the couple that she’d clean the sparkling up and return him to them after a groon and a half, and she left, leaving D-16 and Elita-1 to tend to Orion.

—

Sentinel Prime rarely saw to the birth of new sparklings that were sired and carried by miners, but this one, in particular, was very peculiar. Nothing about him was alarming regarding his health, in fact, he seemed much brighter than normal sparklings. His optics were a radiant blue, similar to his carrier’s, and his armor was a beautiful golden yellow. He didn’t cry excessively like other sparklings, instead giggling and smiling almost all the time, a trait that would’ve been annoying on a grown mech or fem but was very endearing on the sparkling. 

Sentinel entered the room, prompting the medics to address him formally, not noticing the growing rust on his arm plate that he covered with his other servo. He glanced at the smiling sparkling, who looked up at the blue and gold bot with big doe eyes. The golden color of the sparkling instantly caught Sentinel’s eye, and if it weren’t for his slightly panicked state from the night before he would have complimented it. He offered to proceed with the procedure that only miner sparklings had to go through shortly after birth, which the medics agreed to. 

They seemed surprised that Sentinel would concern himself with such a mild task, but they also spoke amongst themselves about how that makes him more honorable in their eyes, caring for sparklings from lower classes.

Sentinel smirked while hearing their conversation two rooms away from him as he quickly but painstakingly plucked the t-cog from the sparkling’s chest before returning the sparkling back to the medics, allowing him to go on with the rest of his day.

But now it couldn’t seem to leave his processor. That golden color looked so familiar, so strangely recognizable and he was drawn to it. He held the t-cog that he took from the sparkling, debating whether he should throw it away like he did all the others now, wondering why he felt that this sparkling was so important, so significant. It was when he looked back on the empty room that once contained his flower, it clicked for him.

No, it couldn’t be…

But it made sense. Two seemingly cogless bots stole the magic flower from the tower, and anyone could connect that to Orion’s miraculous recovery. He supposed that one of those bots was D-16, while the other bot was unknown. He debated punishing the grey miner with execution or imprisonment, but knowing that the sparkling might have the same healing powers as the plant, a different idea sprung to mind.

Conveniently, Airachnid walked in at that moment, cringing at the larger wound of rust on Sentinel’s arm.

“Sir, your arm-”

“I know Airachnid, I know,” Sentinel responded in irritation, pinching the bridge of his nose plate with his digits. He then rested his chin on his servo, optics looking down in thought.

“Airachnid,” he began, looking up at her. “You know of that new sparkling that was just born today? The sparkling of Orion Pax and D-16?”

“No sir, but what would you like me to do?”

“I think that the sparkling has the same powers as the golden flower, and I want you to check if that’s true. If not, leave him, and I’ll jail D-16 for thievery and treason.” Aiarchnid nodded, taking in the orders precisely.

“But if the sparkling has those powers, bring him to me. That’ll be punishment enough for the thief, losing a sparkling. Besides, no miners could ever properly take care of a sparkling, especially one so valuable.” He added with a chuckle.

All Sentinel knew was that D-16 would pay for stealing his precious flower, no matter what.

—

“What should his name be Orion?” D-16 asked, cradling the sparkling in his arms. Orion thought for a moment and then smiled mischievously.

“How about D-Pax?”

D-16 furrowed his brows in thought and smiled softly. “You know, that sounds pretty good. That could actually work!”

Orion started giggling, to D-16’s confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, but you haven’t heard the name before?”

D-16 raised his brow. “No?”

Orion smirked, leaning into D-16’s touch. “It’s our ship name.”

D-16 widened his eyes and laughed, putting his arm around Orion while securing the sparkling in the other. “Really?”

“Yeah! Darkwing actually came up with it to taunt us but it caught on, and now he hates it.” He chuckled, kissing his conjux’s cheek before resting his helm on D-16’s shoulder plate. “So you wanna name him that?”

D-16 looked at his sparkling fondly, now sleeping soundly in his arm. “Yeah, I do.”

I’ll give you a hint: that’s Bee.

At that moment, everything was perfect. You’d think that this was the end of the story, that everything just stayed fine, right?

But then that moment ended.

It was night now. D-16 and Orion shortly fell into a deep sleep in each other’s arms, D-16’s servo cradling the back of Orion’s helm. Their sparkling fell asleep in his small makeshift crib, occasionally mumbling incoherent babbles in his sleep, while the light of Luna 1 and Luna 2 shone on the sleeping sparkling.

But suddenly, the moonlight was replaced by a spider-like shadow that cast over the golden sparkling.

Airachnid bent over, one of her servos lightly touching the side of the sparkling while she started singing the incantation. 

“Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine…”

The sparkling’s armor started to glow, and what appeared to be tiny swirls and flower-shaped designs that looked embroidered onto the sparkling appeared as well despite not being present before. Airachnid smiled in satisfaction before she heard Orion stirring and in horror, saw his optics open.

She quickly grabbed the sparkling, jerking him awake, making him start crying for the first time in his life as Airachnid carried him close to her chassis to try to muffle his sobbing.

Orion jumped out of his berth while D-16, now awake, gasped in terror while chasing after Orion, who ran as fast as his pedes could go after the kidnapper.

But it was all in vain. When Orion reached for the door leading outside the mine shaft, the bot was long gone, his baby with them.

Under Sentinel’s orders, she broke in, stole the sparkling, and just like that; gone!

Devastated, Orion, D-16, and the rest of the miners had searched for the sparkling. They also filed a report for the kidnapping, in which Sentinel Prime publicly declared he would be determined to search for the precious sparkling, but of course that was a lie. 

The miners dubbed him the “Lost Sparkling”, and even those who weren’t well acquainted with D-16 and Orion mourned the loss, as being able to even have a sparkling as a miner was rare due to so many complications they could face and how hard it was to raise one in those conditions.

Meanwhile, deep in Sub-Level 50, Sentinel decided to raise the sparkling as his own.

The sparkling (named B-127 by Sentinel) , now 6 cycles old, sat on Sentinel Prime’s lap, his frame much smaller in comparison to the false prime’s. He had his optics closed as he recited the same song Airachnid did 6 cycles before.

“Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine, what once was mine…”

Sentinel felt the rust disappearing off his body and grinned, sighing in relief as the glow faded from the sparkling’s frame. He opened his wide blue optics and looked up at Sentinel.

“Why can’t I go outside?” he asked innocently as Sentinel still held Bee’s small servo on his own. Sentinel’s smile was replaced with a frown and he sighed, stroking bee’s helm.

“When you were born, the Quintessons and thousands of other bots alike knew of your power and tried kidnapping you, intent on enslaving you. But I was able to stop them. The world outside has become a dangerous place, filled with horrible, selfish people. You must stay here, where it’s safe. Do you understand, my flower?”

B-127 looked down, his miniscule antennae lowering. “Yes papa.”

Despite Bee being a beacon of light he was shrouded in darkness by Sentinel, but one day, that was all going to change.

[latenighttalking00]

A Work of Art

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are a Marchioness from france and your mother is adamant that you wed. She is a very close friend of the Dowager Vicountess Bridgerton who has so generously agreed to be your sponsor for the season. Perhaps in doing this, she has unknowingly found her son's perfect match as well.

Warnings: slow-ish burn, friends to lovers, smut, 18+, minors dni, hair pulling, possessive/dirty talk, fingering, oral (f receiving). This is just porn with a plot.

Word Count: 2k

Author's Note: Hi! def not proof read, apologies if it's a bit rough. Hopefully, you all absolutely drool over Benedict the same way I do. enjoy!

Once the social season had begun its approach, you and your family make haste on your return from france. Due to your newly given title, you are projected to be quite the diamond this season indeed.

As a close friend of the family, the Dowager Viscountess, Violet Bridgerton kindly offers to sponsor your debut this season, meaning that it is now of the utmost importance to arrive promptly at the Bridgerton home in London before the season is to begin.

As you sit in the drawing room, awaiting the next potential suitors you will inevitably send on their way, the clear and evident dread in your expression does not go unnoticed by your mother. A quick swat to your knee from her fan catches your attention, a visible look of warning on her face as your eyes meet hers.

"I do hope that attitude of yours is quick to dissipate." She sighs, "Men will find you quite inadequate to wed if you are to continue this ridiculous behavior. It is quite unladylike." Your mother's words cut right through you as if she had taken a hot paring knife to both of your ears. Not being able to withstand it any longer, you quickly stand from your seat and interrupt her.

"Mother, this gown and the line of men outside the door are quite suffocating enough; no need for your incessant nagging as well." You take a moment to pause, regaining your composure.

"I believe I am feeling quite faint; perhaps I've seen enough suitors today." You threaten rather than suggest, "I will return to my chambers and perhaps get a bit of rest seeing as the sun has already began it’s departure from the sky."

You bow and quickly excuse yourself before making haste out the door, walking as fast as your feet can take you, right past the men who are practically begging for just a minute of your attention.

You race directly to your bedroom, entering quickly and not even fully shutting the door before you are pulling down the zipper of your gown and letting it fall to the floor. "This retched thing must come off immediately," you mumble to yourself as you pull at the laces of your corset, loosening them just enough to slide off your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you slip off your stays and slip on a beautiful white nightgown you purchased from one of the most talented modiste in france.

Shortly after the maids come to collect your gown, you are quick to wander down the halls in search of a cure to your relentless boredom. you find what appears to be an art studio and you are instantly overjoyed. you quietly sneak in through the door left ajar.

Art was your pride and joy; your sketches and the ability to produce beautiful works on canvas were the only things keeping you from becoming a mad woman.

Unbeknownst to you, Violet's second-eldest son and the owner of said art studio had just returned home from the gentleman's club. As he makes his way down the hall, prepared to return to his studio and peacefully finish up some things he started the night prior, he is met with complete and udder surprise at the sight of a woman flipping through his sketchbooks.

He feels as if the air has been knocked right from his lungs. Never once has a woman looked so real, raw, and simply ethereal to him in nothing but a simple yet elegant night gown, the pages in between your delicate fingers, the way in which you sit, your effortless and beautiful features, and the way they change and turn to show your focus, the true and utter intrigue at the charcoal etched on the paper is more than enough to bring a man directly to his knees.

He watches as you adjust your position, your nightgown sliding up your thighs as you cross a leg over the other. He feels as if he might faint.

“those are from my time traveling.” he points, making his way in to the room.

So lost in thought, you are quickly brought back by the sound of the deep and sultry voice coming from the hallway, it sends chills down your body, you are unable to fight the butterflies in your stomach and are completely unprepared for what you’re eyes are met with the second they dare to leave the pages in front of you. He is perhaps one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen, the way his features darken in the dim candle light could cause scandal merely on its own.

As he makes his way over to you, you scramble to find any sort of words to not appear as a complete and udder fool. “désolée, my Lord. All this beautiful artwork caught my eye and i could not help myself.” your voice only making his new found attraction grow even stronger.

“Benedict Bridgerton..” he says just loud enough for you to hear. He is quick to take your hand in his, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“Miss y/n y/l/n” you respond, a blush creeps over your cheeks as your eyes meet his. Your name and accent are both very quick explanations as to why a very random beautiful woman was wondering in

his family home.

“Ah yes, the Marchioness from France. My mother has done quite a bit of boasting upon your arrival, i can now see why she was so keen on you being the diamond of this social season” he chuckled lightly “merci, Lord Bridgerton.” you offer him a warm smile as you place the sketch book in his hands.

Your hand grazes his and you feel as if your body is set aflame. You quickly fumble to stand, attempting to leave before any further scandal is to happen. he is quick to catch you by the arm, his light grasp more than enough to keep you in place.

“Please, stay as long as you’d like.” He offers, taking a step towards you, but you are quick to shake your head, knowing staying any longer may very well affect your title and rank during this very precious season.

“You are more than kind.” you place a hand over his and squeeze lightly. He leans even closer, your face mere inches from his. his scent fills your nose and you cannot control the heat that consumes your body, the sheer need you have for him in this very moment. “I must- i uh-..” he raises an eyebrow at your words. though his proximity fogs your brain, you attempt to compose yourself. “Perhaps i can show you some of my art in the duration of my stay here.“ he smirks, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as he nods “if what you create is half as beautiful as you, my art will never hold a candle to yours.” he compliments.

Your breathe catches in your throat as his words. “..Benedict- Apologies, Lord Bridgerton..” you quickly correct yourself, the use of his first name not going unnoticed by him. “I’m sure both your and my Mother will have quite the earful if i am found in here, i must go.” Before he is even able to protest, you are gone.

As the days pass, You begin to consume his every waking thought, the sound of your voice, the feeling of your skin on his is burned in to his memory and he cannot shake his want for you.

Anthony is quick to notice his admiration, the wandering stares and close proximity immediately become apparent in Anthony’s eyes. As the family settles in the drawing room, Anthony is quick to pull His younger brother aside “You’ve grown quite close with Marchioness” Anthony offers his younger brother a warning glance and Benedict simply smirks in return “Brother, are you suggesting that i’ve compromised Miss y/l/n?” he laughs. Anthony in no way finds this amusing “See to it that your intentions are well thought out and you are thinking with your brain rather than something else. She is a Marchioness, toying with oversea affairs may be more than risky, even for a Bridgerton.” Anthony notes, the clear and evident weariness in his voice wipes the smile right off Benedict’s face

“Brother, do remind me. Did you not ask for one Sharma’s hand in marriage and then proceed to marry the other? You need not inform me on scandal for i am more than well aware of what i am doing.” he place a hand on Anthony shoulder and squeezes light before walking away.

time skip

Benedict does everything in his power to gain every fraction of your attention when it is available. The two of you spending more time together than any of the men attempting to court you. This new grown fondness blossoms quickly and Benedict soon becomes one of your most trusted friends. Spending late nights in his art studio, promenades in the garden, pall mall with his family. You’ve never felt more at home than with your dear Benedict and his lovely family. This fondness grows very quickly to something much stronger. Knowing Benedict’s stance on courting and marriage in general, you shake the thought. Knowing your dear friend will never see you as anything but.

While enjoying another late night in his studio, you can’t help but feel different. You both are well aware your time together is coming to end. Suitors begin growing impatient and proposals begin rolling in faster than the tide.

“I quite like Lord Lumley, he is handsome and he finds interest in poetry.” Benedict is quick to laugh “Lord Lumley is a dimwit after nothing but your title.” you wince at his words “Clearly he’s much more of a gentleman than you.” You tease, crossing your arms over your chest. “Excuse me?” he asks, the change in his tone sending heat right between your thighs. He rises from his place on the stool and saunters over to you, his large frame towering over yours.

“Repeat what you said.” he orders

“Ben i was merely kidding i-“ you stutter, his proximity making your skin feel as if it were on fire.

“Do not make me ask you again.” he warns, a smirk on his face

You are a bit taken a back by his demeanor but the insatiable desire in your body fills you with a sudden surge of confidence. “Lord Lumley is more of a gentleman than you, Lord Bridgerton.”

Benedict lets out a low chuckle before leaning down, his mouth right by your ear.

“Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps Lord Lumley isn’t plagued by the same un-gentleman like thoughts that fill my head the moment you step into a room.” he sighs, his breath on your skin only making matters worse.

Your hands find his half buttoned shirt and you press your hands lightly to his chest “Benedict.” you warn.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes with his own. Your noses practically grazing as he speaks. “Tell me now that you do not desire me.” His hands rest on either side of your face “Simply speak the words and i will respectfully withdraw and allow you to be with whomever you like but first you must tell me you do not desire me and you wish for me to leave you alone.”

“Ben.” You mumble quitely. Every feeling or emotion that the second eldest Bridgerton has ever caused immediately rises to the surface. At a complete loss for words, you do what you feel is right in the very moment and you bring your lips to his.

The kiss quickly fills with passion, weeks of hidden adoration and care comes bubbling over the surface.

“Marry me.” he say breathlessly as he breaks from the kiss. “You have shown me what is it truly like to admire a woman. To look at her and feel inspiration. To delight in her beauty. So much so that all of her defenses crumble and that you would willingly take on any pain or burden for her. To honor her being with your deeds and words. You make me feel what only a true poet describes." his works nearly bring you to your knees as tears threaten to escape your eyes. “I would move the heavens down to earth for you if i knew it would make you smile.”

“Benedict.. Je vous aime.” you reassure him “I love you mon chéri, more than the moon loves the night sky. You are my everything, my best-friend. I would give anything to be your wife.” He pulls you back in for another kiss which very quickly becomes heated.

He trails hot kisses all over your jaw, neck and bosom. “My beautiful Fiancée.” he mumbles, his wandering hands sliding their way up your thighs, threatening to breach the hem of your nightgown. You are immediately reminded of your current location and you push the dark haired boy back “Ben.. not here” you breathe out, The second Bridgerton son just smirks before kneeling down in front of you.

Unsure of what he’s planning, you remain silent, eyes trained on his as he begins trailing kisses up from your ankle to your inner thigh. His hands trail up the back of your legs, giving your ass a playful squeeze as he reaches it, causing a gasp to escape from your lips.

The mere sight of him like this sends heat directly between your thighs, all logical thinking thrown out the window as he begins to tug your panties down your thighs. A blush creeps over your cheeks and your hands find his hair, tugging lightly. Benedict continues with no hesitation, pressing light kisses all over your inner thighs, leading right up to your aching core. You’re unable to fight back the sounds that leave your lips as you feel his tongue pressed against your clit. “Christ Benedict… you’re going to be the death of me.”

He wastes no time, lapping, kissing and sucking at your soaked heat as strong hands grip on to your thighs, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder. You lean against his desk to keep yourself upright while quiet moans and whimpers escape your lips, your hands pulling and tugging at his messy black hair, only encouraging him more. He pulls back only for a moment to look up at you “You taste fucking divine, my beautiful work of art.”

He is quick to return to your soaked heat. As his tongue works relentlessly on your clit, he slowly pushes two fingers inside of you, giving you a moment to adjust before slowly thrusting them in and out. Shortly after, you feel an unfamiliar knot form in the pit of your stomach and Benedict is aware immediately due to your incoherent mumbles and the way you clench around his fingers. “That’s my girl..” he says breathlessly “just like that..” After hearing his words, you completely unravel, shaky moans escape your lips as one hand grips on to the table and the other with a tight hold on your Fiancées hair.

Once your body has relaxed, he gently pulls your panties back up before standing to face you. You watch as he brings his fingers to your mouth “Open.” he commands and you immediately oblige, opening your mouth as he slides his fingers past your lips. The unfamiliar taste and the sheer sight in front of you causes a blush to fall over your face. He removes his fingers with a groan and offers your a smirk “You, my dear Fiancée are going to be the death of Me.”

A/N: Hi guys! I really hope every likes this :) if you have any request, feel free to send them to me :)

[mentalbreakdowngobrrrrr]

Twst boys w a s/o w chronic fatigue

Chronic Fatigue is a condition where the holder is always tired no matter how much sleep they get; it often times has side affects like insomnia/low energy

Characters: Idia Shroud, Ruggie Buchhi, Leona Kingscholar, Floyd Leech, Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Cater Diamond, Riddle Rosehearts

Idia Shroud

We all know this man has a crippling fear of human interaction, so the fact that he was somehow able to rizz up the prefect of Ramshackle is a miracle

Imagine his suprise when they opened up to him about their symptom.

Immediately throws himself into research trying to find any way to help.

S.T.Y.X has resources and he WILL use them to their full extent.

Sadly, there is no known cure

Instead he will make sure you know you can use his room to crash if you want some peace.

He is perfectly content to offer up his bed for you, so that you can rest in peace away from the chaos that is Ramshackle.

He will ensure that he is staying quiet when he games to make sure you're not disturbed.

Having a s/o with low energy is honestly a win in his book. Since you're almost always low energy, and he is an introvert with no social skills, both of you are happy to simply have dates where you just watch movies or play games.

He himself has terrible sleep habits, but he is not opposed to lying in bed with you on his phone if it means you will fall asleep faster.

You probably use his bed more than him tbh.

Overall a total softie and he is perfectly content with just chilling while you nap

Ruggie Buchhi

Ruggie himself is someone that rarely slows down

He's always working on a different side hustle or helping Leona

He's used to Leona, so adapting is pretty easy, except you have an actual condition, not just laziness.

Anytime you come to him tired he will offer you his bed.

Sadly, he rarely has time to just linger while you sleep.

When he does finally have the time to settle down he is the softest person known to man.

He will gladly pull you to his chest and just relax with you.

One of the few times he will refuse Leona is when he's with you.

Having an s/o who is low energy often times helps him slow down and relax a little.

Overall, he is intensely protective of making sure you get a good sleep, well the best your body will allow.

Leona Kingscholar

He is honestly hyped

Not about the fact that you never feel fully rested

but the fact that he has a s/o who will nap with him.

He himself is often times asleep at odd times

So he will gladly pull you from class (against your will most times) just to nap.

He will use you as a pillow most times; but he also will not mind if you use him as a pillow

He has a hard time understanding why you're frustrated with your condition, as he himself loves to lounge around and nap

However he will do what he can to help you.

Forcing Ruggie to get you coffee, bribing Crowley to let you out of class, he has no issue throwing money at people if it means you can be happier.

Overall; He is down to just nap most times he's with you, but if you want to try and do something he will follow along.

Floyd Leech

He has a hard time coming to terms with it

Afterall, he himself is very high energy, so having an s/o who is very low energy can get a bit frustrating at times.

He is childish, and will often times get pouty when all you have the energy to do is sleep.

However, he loves you anyways.

When you are awake and have enough energy, he is happily dragging you around to engage in various shenanigans.

Whenever he works, he likes having you nap in the break room, so he can come in and admire you during his breaks.

Azul has no qualms with this, as it keeps Floyd motivated, and loosing a bit of space to keep Floyd content is something he doesn't mind.

When Floyd gets pouty, he will come to you seeking cuddles.

His cuddles are intense. I'm talking legs and arms fully wrapped around you, keeping you captive.

In the short moments he is calm, he enjoys cuddling while you doze off in his arms.

Overall; not the best at handling it, but he means well.

Malleus Draconia

A human feeling comfortable enough to sleep around him?

How bold

Considering he met you late a night outside your dorm, he was aware of your bad sleeping habits.

He didn't understand until you explained it to him.

You didn't choose to be up late at night; nor did you choose to take naps during the day.

Upon finding out it was a medical condition, he will try and find a cure using magic.

Of course, he finds nothing.

However, Silver is one of his retainers, so he is familiar with people falling asleep around him.

Anytime you so much a mention being tired, he has scooped you up in his arms and is teleporting to his room where he lays you in his bed and tucks you in, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead

He is so happy to have someone who isn't afraid of him and he will drop whatever he is doing most times if you ask for cuddles.

Overall; Incredibly sweet and attentive,

Lilia Vanrouge

He has raised Silver his whole life

Safe to say, he is good at handling this.

Will always make sure you have a safe place to nap.

Has a weird sixth sense that lets him know when you are starting to get tired.

Will also drop what he is doing to ensure you get to a bed or couch

Will threaten people to leave you alone and let you rest.

When he isn't busy taking care of Diasomnia, he will gladly cuddle up to you and run his fingers through your hair.

Overall; Handles it very well and is very caring and attentive

Cater Diamond

Another person that rarely slows down

He is very high energy most days

However, he will gladly let you nap in his bed while he scrolls magicam.

Thinks your sleeping face is adorable

Takes lots of photos

Don't worry, he won't post them unless you say it's okay.

Enjoys relaxing with you after a long day

He is BIG on cuddles.

Claims he will help you wake up more rested

It doesn't but it's the thought that counts.

Overall; struggles a bit but learns to adapt over time

Riddle Rosehearts

At first he is pissed.

After all, napping violates one of the rules.

When you explain to him that it's a medical condition, he eases up

Still is a bit annoyed; but knowing that you're not purposely trying to break the rules calms him down

He will do his best to encourage you to push through and stay awake during the day; but if you can't he will let you rest

After all, you look so cute snuggled in his bed asleep.

He will use the time you're asleep to study while watching over you making sure no one disturbs you.

Has collared Ace and Deuce for waking you up before.

Considers adding a new rule saying that waking you up is against the rules.

Overall; You're one of the few people he will let the rules slip for. Still expects you to follow them when you can though.

[justporo]

Giving up the sun for Astarion. You were fully prepared to do that and you don't regret it. Not losing him is way more important. And so you go willingly into the night with him.

But you're still a creature of the day and denying the very nature of your being will bring you to your limits at some point. If you're honest with yourself: some days you miss the sunlight, some days you crave it desperately, feeling how the self-imposed loss weighs heavy on your mind.. It gives you if only a fraction of understanding what it must be like for Astarion. And of course you would still have the option to experience it.

But you're determined to share Astarion's burden. You feel like this is the one thing you can do for him as long as you don't have a cure.

But Astarion sees how the loss of sunlight impacts you. Like a flower slowly wilting away - in front of his eyes. And while he appreciates your effort it pains him to see you like this. You're probably the only person in the world where he wouldn't want to see the same pain inflicted that he had to suffer for more than 200 years now. Others can rot, but you're different. You don't deserve that.

And so he suggests that you find ways to get your fair share of sun. It takes some convincing but you agree - and you agree to somehow make the best out of it, together.

So in a big window alcove you close half of the thick curtains and you sit there comfortably, practically bathing in the sunlight. An almost desperate moan leaving your lips when the first rays hit you - as if you were coming up for air as someone drowning who'd barely made it. Astarion is sitting at your feet in the safety of the shadows, observing all of this. Every tiny detail burning into his mind painfully: filling him with guilt for feeling he's responsible for putting you through this, filling him with jealousy because you get what he cannot have, filling him with just a tinge of regret because if only...

You stretch your hand out to him to where he sits safely to hold his. He grabs your hand and smiles at you but you see it doesn't reach his eyes.

And he hurts because he's so close and yet so far from the thing he craves so much. But at least he can enjoy his favourite person in this world blooming again in some bright rays of sunshine, right? He can live a bit through you, right?

The way you look with the golden light illuminating your beautiful smiling face rectifies some of the loss he's feeling. But it's merely a drop in the ocean.

But it's bittersweet for him - always showing him what he can never have again. As ethereal and breathtaking as you look basking in the daylight and as much as his love for you knows no bounds, ever growing... His chest will always clench like a hand grasping and squeezing his undead heart. And a tiny voice will always tell him that there would have been a way, if only...

It's like the blade piercing his heart has been removed, the wound able to close, slowly. But shreds, sharp ones, still remain - and they will forever sting: re-opening what had delicately formed again out of the void left behind when rattled too much. Never fully allowing the gashes to heal completely.

[raihanijulie]

After my last post where i found the similliarities between our 'ark siblings' and 'unbreakable bond', i decided to... swap their fates for silly. A WHAT IF. What if the siblings swap roles/fate???? And kawboom. It inspired me to make an au.

Idk what to call it but, temporary will go by Other Fate Siblings AU! I suppose i'll explain a lil bit of the au about :3 Still basically like in the canon, but theres changes in their journey that leads to another new storyline:

Ark Siblings. Just like in the canon, Maria is sick and Shadow is a project built for G.U.N AND also to cure her. In this AU, luckily Shadow's existance succeed on curing Maria and the attack never actually happened because the project, Shadow has alot of purpose. Everyone in the ark comes home to earth safely and continue life as usual. Shadow becomes an asset of G.U.N (can b sum kinda agent of G.U.N), works whenever needed. He is still able to keep up with his big sister, Maria, who is now very energized since she is fully healed. She has alot of curiosity of the earth and loves to travel around... of course, Shadow as her brother have the need to accompany her.

Unbreakable Bond. Again, just like in the canon, Sonic found Tails and decided to take care of him as if he is apart of the family... slowly both of them build connections and treat each other as brothers. They went through alot of adventures together. Sonic's existance has big impact on Tails as he is the only close person he cared for. Unnnfortunately, in this AU, Sonic died for sacrificing himself on a mission... protecting other people and Tails. This breaks Tails alot since he lost his one and only important person. Losing guide, he'd revenge this cruel world for his brother's death. (He thinks his life is never fair <"3)

These designs i made would prolly change as i work on the AU!!!! Feel free to keep up cuz i hav alot of plans for this au alrd HEKSIOWKSLSL... feel free to ask too in my question box... i love answering hehe. Who knowz itll help me develop the lore >:]

[inkubann]

Vampire Fiddleford/Werewolf Stanley Au:

(Might be bc I’m working on a short fic for this)

- Fiddleford got bitten by a “retired” vampire bat while on a research expedition with Ford in the local cave-systems

- Ford only noticed when Fidds lashed out at him by accident (took a month or two)

- Ford attempted to look after/research a cure for him while simultaneously working on the portal by himself. Fiddleford felt bad for the stress he was indirectly putting on him, so he snuck out and stayed away for a few months until he became a bit more stable.

- Fiddleford has memory loss/amnesia from the time he first got bitten bc he was slowly going crazy from starvation

- Stan got bitten by what he thought was a Coyote when he fell asleep on a park bench (it wasn’t)

- He was then convinced he had contracted rabies, scraped his money together for a rabies shot, only to find out he didn’t have it

- Fiddleford doesn’t remember the portal incident bc of amnesia/brain fog

- Eventually fed off of vermin (felt really gross about it) until he learned to hunt

- Stan usually isn’t able to “fully turn” during full moons, he calls it “werewolf constipation”

- Caused by stress which he refuses to address

- Stan has higher hemoglobin (like wolves) so his blood tastes better so it has a distinct scent (to Fiddleford anyway)

- Full moons give him knee/back pain due to his bones shifting, takes enough ibuprofen to kill a man

- Fiddleford covers his mouth any time he smiles/laughs because he doesn’t like his fangs

- His hair still grows, but it does so extremely slowly. Meanwhile, Stan has the opposite issue.

- Ingestion of blood provides very limited blood flow to vampires but does not inhibit function (movement, breathing etc.)

- Stanley doesn’t much care for his abilities, finding them more of a nuisance. He does appreciate the heightened strength, however, but still experiences joint pain.

- Although more durable, Fiddleford is still able to get injured, they just take twice as long to heal

- Stan smells like rank BO & wet dog 80% of the time, Fiddleford tries to ignore it

- Hunting works out for both of them when they end up working together. Stan can use the meat and Fiddleford the blood.

- Stan learned how to hunt from some of the locals as he reasoned it would be similar enough to fishing. Went for it since he was low on money, and his enhanced senses made some foods taste/smell weird. Never bothered to get a hunting license.

- Stan usually keeps to himself the week before full moons when Fiddleford moves in. Mitigates the severity of said pains as he’s used to dealing with it alone & feels he doesn’t need someone to look after him.

- Stan is the one to teach Fiddleford how to hunt with his minimal experience.

- They meet after Stan has been moved in for 3 months after Ford fell into the portal. Fiddleford remembers Stanley from old pictures Ford had hidden in an old textbook (ref. Book of Bill)

- Stan only found out Fiddleford was a vampire after he caught him draining the raccoon that kept pushing over the trash cans at night

- Fiddleford found out Stan was a werewolf because he had coincidentally stepped out at the same time that night during a full moon

[viktorthemachineherald]

“Our Hextech Dream”

I am a sucker for the trope of "separated by ideology so they can never be together, but never being able to give up on the person".

Jayce and Viktor both believed in Hextech, but diverged when it came to its use. There's an irony to it in that the Hextech dream that brought them together is also what tears them apart.

Viktor has always seeked to use Hextech to improve lives. He tells us this from the beginning: "Scientists seek discoveries. Ways to make the world a better place".

Viktor is steadfast in his morals. When it's clear that Hextech has the capability to cause harm (see: Sky), he is willing to walk away from it and accept his death. Then when he is brought back to life against his will, he sets out to Zaun to put an end to needless pain and suffering. The method is questionable, yes, and perhaps blinded by Viktor's guilt of failing to do good in the pursuit of great. But it is still Viktor.

Jayce on the other hand, has the morals of a slippery slope. What's interesting about Jayce is his ideals are inherently tied to defending the people he loves. It's in his title even-- Jayce, The Defender of Tomorrow.

Because Jayce's ideals are so tied to protecting and supporting his loved ones, his morals live on a sliding scale that are never fully his, but instead intrinsically tethered to those he loves.

When he was partners with Viktor was when their ideals were most in sync, and also when Jayce’s motivations most strongly reflected his own. Their inventions to improve the lives of laborers reflected the Talis family dream: “put hammers in the hands of people”. It also reflected Viktor’s to make the world a better place, converging into their shared dream of “giving Hextech to the people”.

But that which inspires us to our greatest good is also the cause of our greatest evil.

When Jayce betrayed Heimerdinger to continue their Hextech research, it was for the chance of finding a cure for Viktor in Hextech. When Jayce shook hands with the other council members, it reflected his goal to maintain support and funding for their Hextech research: but it also reflected Mel’s political agenda. When he forged Hextech weapons, his morals reflected his desire to protect his loved ones from the threat of “terrorism": but it also reflected Mel’s desire to weaponise Hextech; and Caitlyn’s vendetta for revenge against Jinx.

The slippery slope of morality describes how small ethical infractions can lead to bigger ethical missteps. Jayce justifies minor infractions (creating weapons to protect the people I love) and fails to see the bigger ethical consequences that extend from them (the harming of innocent Zaunites).

One of Jayce's biggest failings is that he is often short-sighted and goes in guns blazing. There's an element of vanity-- to be seen as "good" or "the hero"; that craving for validation and praise. Inside Jayce, there is still that naive young boy who drew himself as a hero with a hammer.

For his part, Jayce realizes his missteps and does set out to correct them, though as we see he is often too late.

When it comes to their divorce in ideals, Viktor, who has the renewed clarity from having a second chance at life, is able to set aside his affections from Jayce to walk away. Jayce... takes it a bit harder.

Still, despite their separate paths, there is always that longing for their partner back.

Their Hextech dream that brought them together is also what tears them apart.

It's fitting then, that in the end, they both choose to destroy it together.

And so, they give up on their Hextech dream. And they choose each other.

[animeyanderelover]

Prompt 153 "Tell me how much you love me whilst I fuck you into the mattress.” For Muzan?

I’m so excited for the new season to come out. By the way, I'm not sure who exactly his real parents were back in the Heian era so this is conjured up by my own imagination. This is one of the darker pieces that I have written so be aware of that.

@leveyani @kanaosprotector

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, manipulation, violence, death, afab s/o, Nsfw, blood kink, dacryphilia, degradation, non-con, s/o starts bleeding during sex

Words: 5.9k

Prompt 153

“Muzan?”

You called out hesitantly as you stepped onto the property of his family's residency. It was already night, a chilly breeze blowing through the district that made you shudder in the yukata that you had hastily put on when you had been notified by one of his other servants that the young lord had wished for your presence. Had something happened? Had his health further deteriorated? The servant hadn't answered you any of those questions as they had quickly left you as soon as they had delivered the message. But they had looked terrified for whatever reason.

Obviously you were worried about Muzan as you had been his personal maid for years now and had stayed with him despite his fragile condition. You had stayed up many nights whenever he had been bedridden and had always accompanied him whenever his health had been slightly better and he had wished to go outside. You had even been there when a doctor had diagnosed him with a terminal illness that would kill him before he could even reach the young age of 20 years.

The mortified look on Muzan's face, the angry glint in his eyes, his shaky hands as he had grabbed the doctor with the weak strength he still possessed in his sick condition as he had hissed at the doctor in sheer wrath yet also fear, had demanded from him to find a cure only for you to quickly help him to lay down again when a coughing fit had suddenly sized him.

It was a terrible memory as you had never felt as hopeless before as back then, unable to help Muzan to escape from the inevitable death that had been trying to take him from the moment he had been in his mother's womb. Even your words hadn't been able to soothe him from that moment on. In fact it had been from that moment on that he had started rejecting you completely for reasons you didn't fully understand but had accepted silently anyways. You knew that you were only a servant and hadn't been able to truly feel angry at him. Muzan was lonely and confused, scared and angry. You hadn't been able to blame him for his behavior. It had still come as a shock when you had been informed that he had told the remaining few servants in the household that he didn't wish to see you anymore yet you had swallowed your sadness and confusion and had moved on by helping your parents.

Yet here you were again. It hadn't been that long since you had been last here but for some reason it still felt strange. Precisely because you had spent so many days of your life here were you able to notice that something felt off. You couldn't detect any other sounds which was strange because normally some servants would still be awake at this time and enjoy some quiet time for themselves. You could also not see any light behind the shoji doors nor were any of the lanterns outside lit up for your arrival. The only source of light was the crescent hanging in the sky.

"Hello?" You called out again, this time in a slightly raised voice, your eyes trying to decipher anything within the compound that would indicate that someone was there. You just needed the validation that your gut feeling was lying to you by seeing a servant somewhere or just seeing anyone on here who belonged here.

You gulped comedically loud, the sound of you swallowing cutting through the thick silence that made you fidgety, your hands unable to relax as you clutched the thin material of your yukata in your sweaty palms. You didn't know what to do. No one was here to welcome you, to invite you inside and the uneasy feeling somewhere deep inside your stomach warned you that something was wrong and that you should leave. You just stood there within the residency, contemplating if you should leave and just come back tomorrow.

"(y/n)."

You nearly jumped when you heard Muzan's voice from somewhere. You looked up in surprise, eyes flying over the scenery before you spotted his silhoutte. You hadn't heard him at all and wondered when exactly he had appeared. On the other hand you could only see very little due to the darkness anyways so it was just likely that you had missed him because of the lack of lanterns being lit.

"What are you just standing there? I believe that I ordered you to return to me, didn't I?"

There it was again. The knot of anxiety somewhere in the pit of your stomach that only tightened when you heard his voice. He sounded... so cold. His voice held a strong and confident tone that you had never heard before yet there was also this underlying tone of iciness that you just hadn't expected to hear when he was talking to you.

"Forgive me, please. It's just that I saw no one awaiting my arrival so I was unsure if I could just enter without any permission." You quickly spoke when you pulled yourself out of your slightly shocked state. You bowed to express your apology before you straightened again. Your eyes tried to recognize his face yet it was hidden by the shadow of the roof as the moonlight only shone enough to help you identify the rough outline of his body and the dark robe with a pattern you couldn't discern.

He seemed to consider your reply for a while, to gauge your every reaction before you could spot him turning around.

"Don't make me wait again the next time."

Again you were caught off guard by the coldness in his voice but you did not let him wait this time as you picked up his silent command to follow him. You quickly removed your shoes before you went after him. As you had already expected from the looks outside the house, inside was no light on at all. No lanterns, no fire, no nothing. It was even darker than it was outside as the only natural light from the moon could only reach so far inside. As your sight was so greatly restricted, you found your steps being hesitant and slow as if afraid that you would stumble over something otherwise. Even now that you were inside, you could still hear nothing. It was almost as if only Muzan was in here but that wasn't possible. There were the other servants, there were his parents and also the doctor who had recently visited Muzan with the promise of finding a cure to his illness.

Were all of them asleep already?

"I thought I just told you to not make me wait. Is there a reason for you to ignore my words again?"

The clear tinge of displeasure in his voice was palpable to you as he stopped walking for a moment. Your steps came to an abrupt hold too. You were shuffling your feet nervously in an attempt to deal with the tension in the air.

“Muzan…where are the other servants?”

There was no answer. Only the thick silence that made you slowly break out in cold sweat. Had you said something wrong?

“You’re here for me. You’re my maid. What the rest of the servants are up to should be none of your concern.”

You bowed your head when you could now hear the sharp disdain in his tone, the clear annoyance he now felt for your behavior.

“I-I’m sorry. I won’t ask again.”

You kept your head low, didn’t dare to look up. It was only when you heard his footsteps walking again that you looked back up and did your best to follow him. You didn’t want to be scolded again. There were so many questions and worries in your mind yet you had to silence them all.

When Muzan slid open the shoji doors which led to his room, you were right behind him. You could very faintly identify some furniture within the room, even though the lack of any candlelight made you still uneasy.

Both of you stood there, in his room where you had catered to his health for so many nights on end. It was a room more familiar to you than your parent’s house yet you had never felt more uncomfortable than in this moment. You stood silently right behind him, not moving and not speaking until he would do it first.

“Sit down.”

You slowly bent your knees down, your fingers stretching out to feel the floor beneath you so that you wouldn’t accidentally sit on something that was laying on the ground. As soon as you were seated on the floor, you folded your hands politely in your lap. Your eyes kept on glancing at his form briefly before going back to your lap.

“Stay here and wait for me.”

You nodded your head, although you weren’t even sure if he could even see it due to the darkness. You could sense his body passing your own sitting on the ground before he was gone, even his footsteps disappearing after a while. That’s when you let out a deep breath you hadn’t even been aware that you had held in. Your chest felt heavy as you took deep breaths to regulate your beating heart. The pressure and anxiety you had been feeling since he had found you outside had had a bigger toll on you than you had anticipated.

Muzan was your master and you held him dear in your heart but within the confinement of the heavy darkness, you found yourself dreading his return.

It was the beam of light that caught your attention whilst you were sitting and waiting for him. You could see it through the shoji doors as the brightness approached where you were. There was a sense of security washing over you when you saw the light. When the doors were slid open, your surroundings were instantly dipped in the dull yet warm light of the lantern Muzan had brought with him. Relief took hold of you when you could finally see your surroundings better. You wanted to thank Muzan for his consideration but your words got lost in your throat when you were finally able to take your first good look at his face.

He had always been pale as he had been forced to spend most of his days inside, sick and bedridden. Right now, even in the gentle glow of the lantern he was holding up, you could see that his skin was paler than it had ever been before. It almost reminded you of the drained face of a dead person. Only that Muzan didn’t look like he was close to death. The dark rings under his eyes were gone and you were sure that he had gained muscles on what used to be a fragile and ill body.

What caught you by surprise the most were the plum red eyes that were looking at you. Muzan had never had red eyes. His stare was cruel and unforgiving and it matched the cold tone he had used on you ever since you had returned. Those red eyes made your chest tighten, made you hyperaware of every breath you struggled to take in as quietly as possible. Your mind was racing, trying to come up with an explanation of what you were seeing right now.

“You-you look a lot…better.” You spoke with an audible tremble in your voice. You had wanted to say “healthy” at first but this sickly pale skin of his didn’t allow you to do so.

The silence didn’t break with your words as you had hoped. Instead it only increased your uncomfortableness and nervousness as those red eyes appeared to stare straight into your soul. You had to suppress the urge to swallow, his look giving you the impression that by merely opening your mouth you would do something to displease him.

Muzan put the lantern wordlessly down, his gaze focusing on the source of light for a moment before he turned away. He wasn’t looking at you though, his back facing you as he turned into the other direction. You could see how he lifted up one of his hands, curling it into a fist before uncurling it again. He did this multiple times, flexing the muscles on his arm as if needing the reassurance that it was real.

“The medicine worked.”

It should have been a sentence that would bring you joy and relief. Muzan was healed. He would live. Yet why didn’t he sound happy? Why did he sound so angry?

“That’s a good thing… You must be relieved.” You still decided to say, although you made it sound more like a question than a statement.

When he turned his head around and his crushing gaze found yours, you almost felt the weight on your shoulders. Your body sank further down, your shoulders hunched over and your head hanging low as you attempted to make yourself smaller. You should have just stayed quiet after all.

“Relieved?”

Your heart dropped when he closed the distance between you two with a few long strides. Chills erupted all over your skin when icy hands grabbed your face and forced you to look up. So cold. His skin was so cold that it felt like the hands of death were gripping your face tightly. Red eyes were blazing with such anger and frustration, his pupils narrowing into slits as his nails dug into the skin of your face.

“It’s not enough, (y/n). I’m close… So close to becoming the perfect being and yet I’m being it denied. How can I feel relieved when I can’t walk in the sun?”

His glare was scorching and freezing you at the same time as cold sweat started coating your skin. Your breath was shaky, your heartbeat drumming against your rib cage as you squirmed in his hold. You didn’t understand anything that he was saying. It sounded like he had lost it yet there was this twisted anguish on his face that gave you a bad feeling.

“Muzan…You’re hurting me!”

You cried out as your hands started grasping his biceps to pry his hands away from your face. His nails were embedded in your skin and had already created crescent-shaped imprints. The hold he had on you was still tightening as his emotions of anger seemed to overflow. You were afraid that his nails would break through your skin at any moment.

That’s when he suddenly let go of you and pushed you forcefully back. Your body flew backwards before your back made a sudden and forceful impact with the floor beneath you. A pained groan left your lips, your hands grasping the material of the futon that was lying behind you. Your breath left your mouth in stuttering patterns, tears gathering in your eyes as you looked up at Muzan like a scared child.

Your chest tightened and your lips started wobbling. Those plum red eyes were unforgiving and cruel as they scrutinized you without any hint of sympathy.

“What did you do to all the servants and your parents?”

The words had left you before you had been able to even grasp your thoughts. You didn’t even know from where these words had come from. When you felt a knot in your chest though, one consisting of anxiety and fear, you knew from where those words had originated from. It was a bad foreboding that had now manifested as you tried to endure his cruel eyes.

Nothing on his face changed. The cruelty, the coldness, the apathy remained on it as he answered your question.

“I killed them.”

His words were so uncaring, so indifferent that it almost made your heart stop. You couldn’t even begin to phantom how anyone could talk so detached about people who had cared for them their entire lives.

However…if he had killed all of them…Why had he called you here?

You scrambled slowly away from him as if slower movements wouldn’t trigger him to jump on you. Your heart was hurting from its racing speed and your chest felt as if it was made out of stone as every breath you drew in felt difficult.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

Your voice sounded pathetic as you whimpered the accusation. You couldn’t help it though, you were too scared to care about this. At your words, Muzan tilted his head in a dangerous way as if the sound of your soft crying annoyed him.

“Kill you?”

You couldn’t quite tell if the short flicker of pitiful amusement was only an imagination of your hearing or not. Your body started stiffening when he stepped closer to you. Every movement felt heavy as it felt like your limbs had been turned into stone when you shuffled away from him again. Your movements looked clumsy, a strong contrast to his own. There was confidence in every twitch of his muscles, his eyes glowing with a new emotion that you pinpointed down to be anticipation and desire. His gaze was so intense, so thorough that you felt vulnerable and exposed as if those eyes had stripped you completely naked.

When he finally knelt down to your height, your breath got caught in your throat. You could almost feel the inhumane coldness of his skin and as a reaction goosebumps started to appear all over your skin.

Your stomach was twisting and turning with nausea as you saw his eyes traveling over the swell of your breasts and the curves of your body. You felt violated but there was also a steady fear rising inside of you due to the lust you saw in his piercing red orbs.

"I didn't call you here to kill you." He began as one of his hands came up to rest on your hips, his thumb digging into the skin of your pelvis. Your throat closed up when he leaned close, too close for you.

"I want something else from you."

No...

You couldn't stop the salty tears from cascading down your cheeks as you shook your head in useless resistance. Your hands trying to push against his toned chest did nothing as he pushed you down, your body halfway on the futon and halfway on the tatami floor.

"Undress."

He told, no, demanded from you in an authoritarian voice that almost made you want to obey out of fear of what would happen if you wouldn't do as he said. Apparently your hesitation was already enough to anger him as you could see from the way his eyes narrowed as he observed you.

"What's wrong?"

Your mouth was agape as you tried to force anything out of your mouth.

"I-I don't want to do this." You ultimately spoke, honestly expressing your emotions as you started sobbing in silent terror. Your vision was blurry as the tears wouldn't stop.

A short burning flicker of anger you had never seen been directed at you before his cold palm struck you with a strength that made your head nearly collide with the floor. You started crying harder as you felt the hot and pulsing pain on the entire half of your face.

Muzan had just hit you. He had never done this before.

"Have you forgotten that you are my servant? A servant doesn't speak up against their master. Do you understand, (y/n)? Do you understand why I have to punish disobedience?"

You were looking at him with wide eyes. You felt the urge to throw up but you swallowed the acetous bile down your throat as you bit your lips in pain and nodded.

"If you understand, then do as I say."

With the pain still throbbing on the side of your face, your hands shakily peeled off all the layers of your clothing. You could see now that your entire body had started trembling. Fear, shame and humiliation were all mixing together in your core as you could see the greed and the lust in his eyes.

He was now right above you, his long hair touching your face as his hands rested on either side of your head.

"That's better. Now do the same for me."

You had to muffle your cries by biting your lips as you shuffled around to get his robes off of him. Your warm body was forced to touch his cold one as you did so and you didn't know if you were only imagining it but you could have sworn that you could his heartbeat from multiple parts of his body at once. His eyes monitored your shaky hands closely as you slowly pushed his own yukata off of his body. When you saw his already half-erect cock, you had to really suppress the urge to dry heave.

"That wasn't that hard now, was it? That's a good girl."

You flinched when the same hand which had struck you was now caressing your stinging face, the coolness of his skin now almost soothing your burning cheek.

Your hands, still clutching his shed yukata tightly as a way to vent out some of your turbulent emotions slowly pulled back to your own body. Only that they were stopped when Muzan grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

"Your job isn't done yet."

You knew exactly what he meant when you glanced back to his half-hard member. You wanted to cry, to scream to push him away and run but all of those urges were eclipsed by the overwhelming fear his eyes alone spawned inside of you. So you could only continue sobbing silently as you forced your trembling fingers around his cock and started squeezing and rubbing up and down his pale shaft all whilst Muzan was watching you, only adding to your growing shame.

The only thing you were grateful for was that the tears flowing down your face blurred your vision so that you couldn't notice every vein visible on his hardening manhood. You had to really focus on not pulling away the moment you felt the pre-cum on the tip of his penis that was smeared all over his shaft and your palms as you slid your hands steadily and clumsily over his dick. Through your tears you could barely see the way his eyes twitched occasionally, his brows knitting as he forced you to pleasure his cock.

"Stop."

You pulled back almost too fast and for a moment you were worried that you had offended him. When he forced you to spread your legs further apart though, you knew that he had other plans with you now. You could only watch through your tear-stained eyelashes how he positioned yourself and how he took one last anticipating look at your body.

He gave you no warning and no preparation before he brutally entered you dry. You let out a scream as he forced himself with one smack of his hips fully inside of you, your tight walls in searing pain as they struggled to adapt to the rapid intrusion. Your legs were cramping and kicking around, your hands grasped the futon beneath you tightly until your knuckles turned white. You saw black dots dancing across your vision as you could only gasp for breath whilst tasting your own salty tears. The burning pain spread from your lower regions to your stomach, your gut churning around and pushing the acidic bile up your throat again.

You wanted to beg him to pull out or to at least have enough mercy to give your body some time to prepare but the pain cut out your ability to speak as only whimpers could leave your mouth. Perhaps even if you would have begged him, he wouldn't have listened.

"Tell me how much you love me whilst I fuck you into the mattress.”

That is the only warning you got yet your scrambling mind still isn’t prepared when he starts thrusting in and out of you with the same brutal hip movements without giving you any break. You could barely catch a break as he pulled out almost completely until only his tip was kissing your burning hole before thrusting with full force back inside of you until his hips met your own. Your whole body was bouncing with every intense slap of his hips and your sobbing only continued as every intrusion of his cock in your most sacred body part renewed the pain. You could barely process what was happening around you, the pain all-consuming.

Muzan and you were on completely different spectrums of emotions. Every thrust of his body that brought you agony brought him sparking pleasure. Tight. You were so deliciously tight as your warm walls struggled to wrap around his thick girth. He had always known this but now he could really feel that you were a virgin. Untainted, unclaimed and ripe for him to take.

He had always fantasized about what you would feel even when he had been sick and weak. But even his greatest dreams could have never prepared him for the euphoric feeling of plunging inside those plush virgin walls and shaping your insides to take him in perfectly. It was exhilarating. It was euphoric. And it wouldn't be the last time.

You let out a strangled sob when he suddenly grabbed your hips and lifted them up, allowing his dick to disappear even deeper into parts that no one before him had ever had the pleasure of experiencing. He intended to keep it that way.

Sweat and tears were coating your face, your stomach twisting and turning in a nauseating mixture of pain, disgust and the occasional spark of growing pleasure. As hard as you tried, it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his length defiling you and brushing against your seared and sensitive walls.

When he ankled his cock in a particular way, you let out a shriek as the pain abruptly exploded and ripped away at your insides. Your cries rose in volumes in response yet Muzan didn't slow down at all.

You made the mistake of glancing down and when you saw his cock sliding in and out of you, coated in the little bit of slick you had started producing and your own blood, you wanted to throw up. The sight went right through yout intestines and you started heaving. You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, trying your best to suppress the gagging reflex that threatened to cause you to vomit.

The moment he tore something inside of you and caused you to bleed though, you heard a growl coming from him. You dared to glance up at him and felt your blood freezing. You saw his eyes turning to thin slits as his nostrils flared up as he took in the sweet aroma of your blood. His lips parted as he bared his sharp teeth, his pupils quivering as if he was a wild animal about to devour his prey. His gaze flew down, staring at the part of your body where both of you merged and at the sight of your blood, he could feel his mouth salivating. Even your blood was lovely.

It took some willpower before he was able to tear his gaze away from your bleeding vagina and back to your face. You were a mess. Your face was sticky with hot sweat, tears and snot all running down your face. You looked at him with such despair in your eyes, your mouth trying to form words but unable to let out anything else besides sobs that probably would have broken the heart of everyone else. But Muzan wasn't everyone else.

His head was suddenly pressed against your neck, taking in deep breaths as he could hear and feel your racing pulse against his cold lips and the flowing blood right beneath your skin.

When one of his hands roughly seized your shoulder to stop you from squirming so much and you could already feel his tongue drawing over your skin as if searching for a good spot to start, your trembles intensified. Yet you knew that you could do nothing as you felt another additional pain when sharp teeth bit into your flesh and you could feel the vibrations of a growling moan of pleasure resonating somewhere from deep within his chest.

Your sweet blood melted on his tongue as he dug his tongue into the wound, greedy for more of it. It was a delicate and flavourful taste, far better than any of the flesh he had tasted from his parents and all the other servants.

You were shaking, heaving, sobbing as everything became too much for you and all the different sensations overwhelmed you and slaughtered your coherent thoughts and senses. The searing pain between your legs, your guts clenching around whatever food was still being digested inside of you, your body heaving the acidic taste up to the back of your throat only for you to swallow it constantly down again, the skin of your face tingling with all the salty tears streaming down, the burning sting of the bites Muzan placed all over your shoulders and chest, the multiple heartbeats you could feel through his cold skin as he pressed you beneath his body further into his futon and somewhere in between all of that the dull knot of pleasure somewhere else in your body.

All of it melted together into one giant blop of sensations that blackened your vision and made your ears ring. Everything felt overwhelming to in one moment and then dull and distant in the next moment as your brain started shutting down.

You wanted to embrace that pitch-black nothingness, you could almost grasp it...

Then something tore through all of your senses like a tsunami with such an intensity that for a few seconds you were wide awake. Your eyes flew open, your whole body was trembling with spasms and you opened your mouth to let out a high-pitched scream as it came over you and held you in its hold for a few seconds. You felt your walls clamping down around Muzan's length and somewhere within the depth of your mind you finally understood that you were having an orgasm as your vision was overwritten by pure white for a few fleeting moments before it all stopped as abruptly as it had come and your body fell limply back onto the futon.

You could still feel Muzan snapping his pelvis against your own, his speed increasing as he could feel your own body coming around his cock before with one last grunt he pressed himself as deeply inside of your bleeding warmth as possible as he reached his own orgasm. You could faintly feel thick spurts of cum staining your insides as he kept on grinding his pelvis against yours for a few seconds to fully ride his orgasm out before he stopped.

You didn't know what he was planning to do now and you didn't care anymore either. All you cared about were those dark spots taking over your vision, promising you temporary release from all of this.

"You haven't told me yet."

Through your slowly darkening vision, you could make out his face. There was a frown on his face that expressed his mild annoyance but for whatever reason he didn't seem as mad as he had been before. Perhaps because he had released all pent-up emotions on you.

Your mind was working very slowly as you tried to understand what he meant. What did he want you to say?

"Tell me that you love me." He repeated for you and you could faintly recall that he had said that before he had raped you and abused you. You stared at him as your mind started drifting away, his face slowly vanishing until only those red eyes remained that seemed to find you even in this darkness. You could only feel it from far away when he started thrusting inside of you again, not done with you yet.

"I love you. More than anyone else." Was the only coherent thing you were able to conjure up before your consciousness was swallowed by the dark nothingness where even those haunting red eyes couldn't reach you...

---

Your head was propped up by him with one arm as the other one gently pushed a cup of water through your lips and teeth, forcing the cooling liquid down your dry and burning throat. You looked for the first time on that night peaceful within the depths of unconsciousness where he couldn't reach you yet. A part of the demon didn't want you to have this rest. He wanted to force you to say his name over and over again and have you screaming that you belonged to him whilst cumming around his dick yet he had to remain himself that you were only a human. Weak and limited.

He had been like that not too long ago too, only that he had been even weaker than you had been. His entire life had been nothing but a pathetic fight against death and his own useless body. Now that Muzan had been stripped off his humanity and mortality though, he felt a confidence and strength that he had never been able to experience before.

As he gazed at your sleeping face, he couldn't help but reminisce about how long he had been longing for you already yet had been tied down by his own sick body. He had always wanted to ask for you to marry him yet he had been far too ashamed of his own pathetic condition to do so. So when he had been told that he wouldn't even live longer than twenty years, the desperation had crushed him as he had realized something.

That you would never be his. That you would move on after his death, marry a healthy and strong man, bear his children and eventually completely forget about him. He hadn't even been able to look at you after the visit from the doctor without imagining it. How dare you being able to forget about him? Bitterness had tarnished him and had turned his love for you partially into hatred as he had started harboring a resentment against you and your kind words tainted in pity for his health. Every gaze and every action from your side had felt like an insult to him as he had grown to fully despise how you had secretly looked down on him for his inevitable death. It had always felt wrong.

Now everything was right though. Now everything was finally as it should have been from the start.

He took notice of the way you started shuddering when he wrapped his arms around you, his body not providing any warmth for you. He narrowed his eyes, contemplating something before he grabbed the blanket that was lying on the end of the futon before wrapping it around you, giving you the warmth you were seeking for subconsciously. Then he wrapped his arms around you again, hoping that the blanket would shield you from his cold skin. He pressed his face against the back of your neck, taking deep breaths of the stenching smell of blood, sweat, tears and sex clinging to your skin.

He would have to keep you inside the house as soon as the sun would rise but it was very unlikely that you would be able to move your body around in the first place after he had finally claimed you.

He finally had you. The only thing that was missing now was the Blue Spider Lily...