#dragging you all to the celestial hell with me

[hazelfoureyes]

The Big Part

Alastor x Virgin FemReader smut

Part 2 Part 3

You were dead, it was time to divest yourself of your virginity. When you ask Alastor, he takes to the task immediately. Unfortunately, he seems to enjoy surprising you.

warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader smut, Alastor dislikes getting naked, virginity does not rock, possessive Alastor, head pats, reader is an adult she’s just a nervous idiot bad at words

Horny little deer cult: @frompeach , @chirimeimei , @poppingaround , @polytheatrix , @itsmskeisha , @stygianoir , @celestial-vomit , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @amurtan

minors dni, this isn’t educational in the slightest and is just straight smut

It made sense, at the time. You didn’t want a relationship and you didn’t want to meet a stranger you couldn’t trust, that left very few people to ask. Husk would say no, and probably stop serving you drinks. Angel would most likely agree, but you were a little intimidated by his experience. That left Alastor. While you hadn’t spent much time together, your interactions were always cordial. And plus, this was hell. Isn’t this kind of situation a sinners dream come true?

For most, maybe. But you didn’t know Alastor. Not yet, not really. Everything he did had some ulterior motive. Perhaps nothing he had ever done was simply selfless. If Alastor wasn’t gaining something, Alastor wasn’t interested.

You caught him in the hallway one evening after redemption-oriented activities, deciding to get the moment over with as quickly as possible.

“It’s a favor, little… odd. But you’re the only person I have to ask.” Your eyes darted around his face, down the hall, up the walls, anywhere really but his eyes.

“I’m all ears!” Alastor tapped the microphone to the ground with a satisfying ‘thud’.

Oh— you had rehearsed this but you hadn’t prepared to be staring at that large, toothy grin. It wasn’t unsettling, it was just distracting. Would he be smiling the entire time he… ya know.

“I am,” you steepled your hands, pointing them at him, “a virgin.” You paused, hoping maybe he’d just infer the rest and you could stop talking.

His face was motionless save his eyelids rising up.

“And I don’t want to be. Anymore.” Your lips pursed together. C’mon, Alastor. Figure it out.

Alastor nodded.

You dragged your fingers down your face, “Would you help me with that?”

His head cocked to the side like a golden retriever being handed a book on ancient Egypt. Very nice offer but what exactly do I do with it?

“Help how, precisely?” He finally spoke, tone unchanged from any normal topic of discussion. Alastor watched your face scrunch up, mouth moving around words you abandoned half way through. You weren’t saying anything, just making panicked sounds. “I find annunciation most helpful when wanting to be understood, dear.”

You wanted to somersault out the nearest window. “Alastor will you take my virginity?”

“Take it where?”

You groaned, he laughed, “Just kidding, my dear! All in good fun. So, to be clear, you would like your first sexual experience to be with me?” He pointed the microphone from you to him.

You nodded, “Yes, please.”

His smile seemed to strain. Staring down at you, he tried to understand what your motivation was for this. But as he looked into your big, concerningly innocent eyes, he realized there was none. You really, simply, want him to be the first.

Ooh, as he thought it, he felt his pulse quicken in his lap. The first. A spot no one else could take. For the rest of your afterlife, he would always be the one who was first in you. A delicious thought. He could work with that.

“Are you free now?” He leaned down to your level.

“Oh. I wasn’t-,”

“Expecting immediacy? Perfect, the element of surprise has never failed me before.” His hand wrapped around your waist and drew you in to his chest, there was a rush of cold air over your skin before you felt yourself falling back.

It was soft, the room was dark, save for a small floor lamp in the corner. Your room, you realized.

“I didn’t know you knew my room number.”

“It’s my job to know everything about the hotel.” He said, tossing your shoes behind him. Was this happening now? Right now?

“I can do it, it’s, it’s fine.” You sat up and began undoing your pants. Alastor just standing there, watching. Smiling. Fuck, was it going to be this awkward the entire time? Should you say something? Touch him? You were lifting the hem of your shirt when you realized he was still fully dressed. “Are you going to take off your clothes?”

“Why would I do that?” Head lolled to the side.

You stopped mid-way through unhooking your bra, “Alastor you do know I was asking you to fuck me, right?”

He nodded. Maybe this was a mistake.

After taking off your bra, and finally your panties, you crawled to the top of your bed and drew your knees to your chest. Your feet hid your sex from view. Heart racing, but it wasn’t excitement, as you had anticipated. It was nerves. Would it hurt? Would you make a stupid face? What if he didn’t like the sounds you made? What if you regretted it after?

Alastor got on the bed on his knees, undoing his belt buckle but not his pants. The way he looked at you, your heart skipped a beat. You suddenly remembered he was called the ‘cannibal deer’ as you saw something akin to hunger in his eyes.

“What experience do you have?” His voice was suddenly low, deeper than before. This wasn’t the pun loving radio man you saw prodding the staff.

“I dated. Before. Kissing, um, I don’t know the bases. Groping?” You grimaced, it sounded so formal.

“Have you ever,” he began to slink toward you on his hands and knees, red eyes glowing in the dim light of your room, “been entered?”

Your cheeks burned, your head suddenly swayed as if it was half full of water and someone tipped you over. “Just myself, my,” you lifted your hand.

“Show me.”

All the air left the room, sucked out of your lungs and into his grin.

Uncrossing your feet, you tried to open your thighs without seperating your knees. It didn’t work, but you still managed to get a hand between your legs and to your entrance. You could have cried, you were soaking wet to an embarrassing degree. Your eyes return to Alastor, his gaze never leaving you. Even as you slipped a finger, then two, into yourself. You thought for sure he would want to watch your hands playing with your wet pussy but no, his eyes stayed on your face. Somehow, that was worse.

A shaky sigh escaped, your eyes closing as you tried to focus on relaxing around your digits.

Your head smacked against the headboard when you felt a third finger enter. Not yours. Your eyes flew back open to see him now directly in front of you.

“Two won’t do, dear.” He spun his finger around, pulling slightly at the thin skin of your entrance. “Unless you’d prefer this to hurt?”

You shook your head no, still stinging from the impact you had made. “May I?” His hand took your wrist and removing your fingers. Swiping your wetness from your ass to your clit, he coated his claw-like digits and pushed three back in. They were longer than yours, sharper. You could feel he moved gently, in and out. Your head was heavy, breath short and fast.

He laughed, bringing your consciousness fully back into the room, “Already wanting to change your mind?”

You shook your head side to side, still too embarrassed to speak, and took a grounding breath to help your body accept his fingers. He took his time, sliding in and out of you. His fingers picking up the slick and letting it lubricate your lips. It was so slow, the only pleasure for you was knowing it wasn’t your hand doing it.

But then his stretching of your hole stopped, and he grabbed both of your knees from underneath and pulled you down toward him. Now on your back, legs up and in his hands, you heard his belt slide through the loopholes, his zipper drop. You wanted to look, but you also absolutely did not want to look.

Your knees came together when you felt something hot and round at your entrance. “Ah-ah,” He opened them immediately. He reached for one of your hands, and brought it down to his cock. It was so hard under your fingers, but gave a little when you squeezed. It made him hiss.

“You tell me when to stop, little doe.” He pressed into your opening, pulled back. Pressed in, just barely making it past your lips, pulled back. He kept this pressing and pulling, head making slightly more leeway every time. Your fingers were holding right behind the tip.

“How about this, dear. I’ll just get the head in for now. Manageable!”

“Just— just get the big part in first?” You asked, the pressure at your entrance building with every shallow thrust.

He laughed, nodding as he held both of your knees further apart. When he attempted to get past the curve of his cock’s head, your hands flew down to press against his thigh, pushing back with the intrusion. Alastor stilled, sighed, and pressed his head fully in with a determined thrust. Instinctively, your feet came to his chest and tried to push away from him. It felt like you were being torn down the middle, your body forced apart at your most sensitive junction. He held you still now by the ankles, legs splayed in the air.

It burned where your walls were pushed aside. Stinging where the skin tore slightly just beneath your hole, unable to stretch.

“Breath, sweetheart.” He set your ankles down. “Does it hurt?”

You nodded.

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” he settled on his legs, looking down at where he was connected to you. Your pink little pussy looking positively overwhelmed by his cock. No one has ever been here before, and he could feel it. Your walls were pressing so hard against him his shaft was slightly curved from the force pushing his head out. You still had so much to take, there was so much more of you for him to explore. You tried to calm your breathing but your heart was racking against your sternum.

Hand reaching down again, you let your fingers count little paces from his core to yours. You knew the hardest part was over, but that didn’t bring much comfort as you felt how far you still had to go.

Alastor let his eyes wander away from your not-so-virgin cunt to your face. Your expression was twisted, not pained but clearly uncomfortable.

“How does it feel?” He asked, gesturing to your lap with a nod of his head.

“Full, so full.”

His cackle disheartened you, “Darling I am no where done filling you up.”

You clenched when he said it, earning a small groan from him. You were already too tight, when you spasmed on him it was nearly painful. There was more to do yet, more of you to claim as his. Just the tip of his cock was simply not enough.

His hips started moving again, the folds of his head pulling at the skin of your entrance but not actually crossing the barrier. He was gently rocking, barely making friction between you two. Your hand clawed at his knee, breath hitching. You let an airy moan slip, his head no longer an intrusion but something hot and melty barely rubbing your walls. It started to feel almost good.

Alastor’s cock was throbbing, his shaft touch-starved and desperate for the heat of your cunt. Your face was relaxing now, eyes blinking around new sensations. He wanted to see you experience more, more firsts and frighteningly foreign pleasures. He wanted to see you scared of how good he could make you feel. Alastor wanted you to never feel whole again without him buried balls deep in you.

“Can you take more?” His voice was like gravel, a radio static crackling in.

You met his eyes, glowing still in the dim light, wide and nearly frenzied in their dilation. His smile was practically beaming down at you.

“I don’t know.” You were scared to move forward, even though you wanted more.

“I don’t like liars.” A pop of electricity arcing at the end of his words. You pulled a pillow over your face, trying to hide from the reaction you knew he’d have as his voice made you tighten around him. “Your body says otherwise,” he hissed.

You wanted to say ‘yes’, if this could feel good then how great would all of him feel? But you were scared to vocalize it. Scared to make it start. Alastor lifted the pillow, “I need to see you, dear.” He set it beside his leg, “Do you remember what I said earlier?”

Brow furrowed, you shook your head. His grin widened to his ears as his hands slid down your thighs to your hips and he sank his cock to the hilt.

The element of surprise definitely made the nerves of saying ‘yes’ dissipate, but you were now choking on your breath, hands gripping at the blankets beneath you. Was this normal? Was he too far inside you? You felt nauseous, your guts prodded by Alastor’s member.

“How does it feel now?” He watched your eyes scanning the ceiling for an answer. You felt sure there was no way his head could leave you ever again. It was so snuggly fit in you, you feared you’d be pulled inside out. “Words, dear.”

You sat up on your elbows, sweating from the nerves of it all. “Like there’s a big stick stuck in me.”

“Accurate!” He laughed, and began pulling out. You whined, head dropping back. Almost taking himself out completely, he paused before thrusting back in. The head of his cock dragged against your walls, you could feel him with such detail. Every inch of him leaving impressions behind. Alastor could feel it too, how your soft warmth moved out of his way with every push. How pliable your womb was to his intrusions.

More. You could take more, he was positive of it.

Slowly, your moans began to get louder as the pressure faded into pleasure. Every time he bottomed out, you jumped. Every time he pulled out, you wanted to chase after him with your hips.

Watching your face soften, eyes now watery, Alastor was sure you were relaxed enough. He grabbed the pillow beside him, lifting your ass and sliding it under the small of your back. You didn’t ask, just waited to see what the point was. Dissatisfied, he grabbed another and added it under you.

Your hips were up, ass hanging over the ledge the pillows made, back bent upward. When he began to thrust again, you whinced feeling a new part of you widen for him. “Can you see me?” You looked at him when he said it, but he grabbed your hand and placed it beneath your belly button. When he pushed back in, you could feel his cock beneath your hand. Moving it, you watched your stomach bulge slightly when he was completely sheathed in you.

“Oh fuck-,” your head fell back into the bed, it was too much to feel let alone to watch, “Too deep.”

He hummed an acknowledgement, picking up his pace. “Let me see how you cum.”

Your face was hot, reluctantly bringing your hand to your clit and rubbing.

No, this wasn’t a mistake at all. If anything you regretted not asking sooner.

His thrusts now brought lightning to your core, your finger quickening in speed with the realization of just how good he could feel.

Studying your face still, he adjusted his angle until he saw the muscles in your neck tighten. He knew he found your g-spot, your moans dipping into cries.

“I can’t—,” You couldn’t get over the hump, knowing he was watching you, waiting for you.

“You can”, the lights flickered, his eyes now black with small red pupils illuminating your naked body, “and you will, my dear.” One of his hands stopped pressing finger sized bruises into your hips to instead push your own finger aside. The wide pad of his thumb took over and began thrumming you fast and hard.

That familiar build up of pleasure was stronger than you’d ever felt it, and when it finally snapped your muscles from your thighs to your toes cramped. How long had you been tensing?

You practically sobbed into the crook of your arm, Alastor’s hips slowing but still carrying you through your orgasm. They moved slower and slower, until stopping entirely. His head popped out of you, leaving you feeling hollow. Cold.

Eyes wet and blurry, you looked up at him, “Aren’t you going to finish?”

“If we do everything now, what ‘first’ will we have for tomorrow night? And the night after that?” He smiled, member already hidden away and pants buttoned. Your thighs twitched. “Same time tomorrow, little doe?”

You covered your face with both hands, and nodded.

His big hand came to your head and patted you gently, “Good girl.”

I hope you liked it 🥺 I don’t feel as confident about this one. Fun fact, my first time involved bondage. Very on brand, huh? 💖

༻Masterlist༺

Gonna start calling his dick ‘the element of surprise’. You look tired today! What happened? Oh the element of surprise kept me up all night.

[hannahbarberra162]

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader)

18+ MDNI, on Ao3

Chapter 2

Oops! Accidentally wrote another yandere story. This time its Alpha Shanks and Omega Reader.

If I have to keep thinking about it, you can read about it. It’s cringe, it’s overdone, it’s annoying and I don’t care. I did proofread this, but I'll likely do so again in the coming days.

TW: depression, suicidal ideation mentioned, non-con, dubcon, whump, abuse

MIND THE TAGS!

~

Shanks gets more than just the Poneglyphs when he destroys the Victoria Punk, he gets you too. Shanks is kinder than your previous owner, but an Emperor doesn't let treasures slip through his fingers.

~

As you sat on the floor in Kid’s cabin, wrists shackled and chained to his bed, you heard the tell tale sounds of fighting. You knew that Kid was going after Red Haired Shanks in an effort to dislodge the Emperor and take his title. You would never say anything for fear of being slapped across the face or worse, but you didn’t think he was going to win. At least, you hoped he didn’t. You hoped the Emperor killed everyone on board, yourself included. It was what the crew deserved, and your torment would finally end. You would be free of the hell your life had become since the Kid Pirates had taken you from your home. It would probably be a better ending for you than anything else that would happen, anyway.

You’d been living on Beta Island incognito, hiding your status as an Omega. You didn’t want to be sold to a Celestial Dragon in your late teens, as your parents had planned for you. So you’d escaped your home island shortly before your 13th birthday, evading patrol after patrol, living your life on the run. Eventually, you found yourself on Beta Island, which suited you just fine. Only Betas were allowed to live on the island, avoiding all the trouble that the other two dynamics brought with them. You’d taken suppressants since your escape and because you’d never gone into heat, you were able to pass yourself off as a regular Beta. It had been an idyllic time for you, as you worked and made friends with the Betas on your island. You had even deluded yourself into thinking that maybe your life would be alright, when the Kid pirates attacked the island.

You were running away from the chaos and destruction downtown, trying to keep from being spotted as well as you could. Scrambling through an alley, you passed the Captain himself, who was laughing at the bloodshed and pain he was causing innocent people. You thought he hadn’t seen you but you suddenly felt yourself being dragged backwards, back towards the pirate. Panicking, you tried even harder to wriggle away and escape but it proved to be pointless. Later, you found out that he was magnetizing the grommets in your clothes to bring you towards him. Captain Kid grabbed you in his metallic hand once you were close and inhaled a deep whiff of your scent. When you were on suppressants, your ability to scent was dulled but you could still tell you didn’t like his acrid aroma. Kid smelled like sweat, blood, oil, and anger, not an appealing combination. Pushing on the gigantic metallic arm, you tried in vain to dislodge yourself from his grasp. 

“What’s an Omega like you doing on Beta Island?” he asked, crushing your ribs with his gigantic fist. You weren’t sure if he knew his own strength, but he was keeping you in his clutches with ease.

“N-not O-omega,” you grunted out, trying to breathe through the constriction of his hand. You were still squirming, trying to get away from the large pirate.

“Oh yeah? You sure? Your pussy smells like Omega. It’s practically cryin’ for me to take you right here,” he sneered. “Oi! Killer! Take this one back to the ship, lock ‘er in my cabin.” He yelled to a man in a full face mask. Leaning closer to your face, he licked your neck and leered at you. “We’ll find out later if that pussy is Omega or not,” he said, handing you off to Killer. You tried to get away from the masked man, to no avail. Killer was just as strong as his Captain and wasn’t letting you down. Kicking, screaming, pounding his back did nothing as the first mate advanced towards the ship. 

Quickly chaining you to the Captains bed, the first mate considered you for a moment. “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, Omega. Lose the attitude. Otherwise, you won’t last long here.” 

He wasn’t wrong. 

Kid had come back to his cabin once the pirates had sufficiently destroyed your peaceful home. You huddled in the corner of the room, as far as your chains would let you, but the Captain had you before him in seconds. Covered in the blood of your former friends, the Captain had disrobed you, ripping through your clothes like they were paper. 

“Lemme see yer,” Kid said, ogling your now naked form. You tried not to cower, but you couldn’t help but tremble before the raw bloodlust in his eyes. You’d never taken a lover before, you had been too nervous it would interfere with your hormones and expose you as an Omega. Kid's leering had led to groping, which led to much more. That first night he’d bitten, clawed, bruised, kissed, and abused you, leaving you broken in spirit and body. You never fully recovered. You quickly learned he didn’t want you talking, didn't want you making eye contact, didn’t want to hear your crying, didn’t want anything from you except your body. He used you as he saw fit, as ruthless to you as he had been to your island. He never even asked your name, most often calling you ‘Omega,’ or ‘Bitch,’ among other colorful names.

You were the Captain’s sex doll, and the crew treated you as such. No one paid you any mind except to tell you to move the fuck out of the way, or to laugh at you as you stumbled out of the Captain’s quarters when he let you. Killer would occasionally bandage your wounds, but Kid preferred you to wear the marks he put on you. Kid wanted the mating bond to form between the two of you, to solidify the fact that you were his and prevent any rivals from taking you. To do that, he needed to bring you into heat. To try to get you to go into heat, he had tried any old wives tale he could find. He locked you in his quarters, denied you food except for his cum, kept you naked for days on end, bit your neck in a claiming bite, anything that might work. None of it did, but it all left you weakened, depleted, and suicidal. 

Even though you could practically feel his disdain for you, Kid sometimes told you his plans late at night after he finished pumping you full of his come. As you laid with tears drying on your cheeks and blood dripping from fresh wounds he’d given you, he told you about his simmering hatred for Red Haired Shanks and how he wanted his revenge. During these conversations, you encouraged him, praising his strength and skill, and told him that he absolutely was powerful enough to take on the Emperor. You were surprised that your voice held out while you were talking, both from disuse as well as from the effort you had to put into lying to his face. Once when you voiced these opinions, he’d stroked your skin while in thought, the first time his touch hadn’t hurt you. 

The day finally came that he attacked the Emperor. You’d heard him powering up his attack, laughing maniacally as he planned to wipe out the fleet of ships you could see from his cabin window. You cringed, waiting for the sounds of the dying….except it never came. Instead, a sonorous voice boomed out “Divine Departure,” bringing a deafening blast to your ship. Screams had followed, but not the ones you were used to. Rather, you detected the screams coming from the crew, yelling that they didn’t want to die, that the Captain had been defeated, that Killer was also knocked out. 

You couldn’t help it, you laughed long and hard, cackling into the darkness that had consumed the ship. You knew your voice had been ruined from too much choking and screaming, your vocal chords permanently damaged at the hands of your would be Alpha. The sounds you made were harsh and coarse, like a ghoul laughing from beyond the grave. Normally you were too ashamed to speak with your butchered voice, but you were too joyous to care. You were happy he’d received vengeance for some of the violence he brought to the world. You could only hope the ship sank and the rest of you with it. 

A few moments later, the door banged open and Emma stood before you, tears running down her face. She didn’t address you, just unchained you from the post on the Captain's bed and pulled you along with her. She was carrying the Poneglyphs, the Captain’s most prized possession aside from you. Emma was running, giving you barely enough time to avoid being dragged, as she brought you to the center of the deck. She bowed, and when you didn’t follow suit right away, kicked you so that you fell to your knees. Glancing up, you saw why.

All powerful Emperor Red Haired Shanks was on the Victoria Punk, staring down the crew impassively as they pleaded for their lives. You dropped your head, not making eye contact with the Emperor. You’d been hit enough to know that Alphas didn’t want you making eye contact with them in any capacity. Shanks approached Heat, who now held both the Poneglyphs and the end of your chain.

Shanks POV

Shanks observed the panicking Commander as he advanced towards their Captain. Kid’s crew were begging for Shanks’s forgiveness, something that would not be given. They had tried to annihilate his subordinate crews and would have, if Shanks hadn’t acted so quickly. Drawing a gun was dangerous, it put your life on the line. And Kid had been given a warning when Beckman shot off his arm. Some lessons had to be learned the hard way. 

A young woman brought the Road Poneglyphs in her hands, along with someone attached to the end of a chain. Handing her Commander both items, the blue haired girl bowed in supplication to Shanks, awaiting his judgment. Noting the chained woman didn’t do the same, the girl kicked the battered woman, bringing her to her knees. Shanks took the Poneglyphs from the Commander, who also handed him the end of the chain of the cowering woman. Shanks had no interest in slaves, he didn’t keep or want any. The slave kept her gaze averted, looking at the ground as she trembled. Her body was littered with bruises in various stages of healing, as well as cuts and welts. She bore a savage mating bite that was clearly infected, along with bruising circling her neck. Breathing in deeply, Shanks hid his surprise as he realized the small woman was an Omega. 

Omegas were exceedingly rare in the world, they were either sold to Celestial Dragons for an incredible amount of money, or outright stolen from their homes. If an Omega bred with an Alpha or Apex Alpha during their heat, the offspring was guaranteed to be either an Alpha or Omega, unlike other pairings. Because the Celestial Dragons took or bought nearly all of the Omegas in the world, wild Omegas were unbelievably scarce. Shanks hadn’t heard of one being found in over a decade. How the Kid pirates had managed to find one and kept her a secret, Shanks didn’t know. 

He said nothing as his own ship passed by, his crew calling out to him. Shanks removed his Emperor’s cloak, covering the shivering woman in its warmth and his scent. Your small trembling fingers took the fabric and held it shut around your body, as you sniffed the material. You still hadn’t said a word or looked at anything besides the floor, but there would be time to investigate later. Throwing the Omega over his shoulder, Shanks took the Poneglyphs in hand and stepped on the railing of the enemy ship. You were light and put up no struggle when Shanks took you, the only sound emanating from you was the clinking of your chains.

“Look over on the island!” Shanks heard the offending crew yell as he launched himself onto the Red Force. The Omega didn’t shout or scream, just gripped his shoulder a little more tightly as he darted into the air. Landing on the Red Force, Shanks yelled out for Hongo.

“Meet me in my cabin. Ten minutes,” Shanks ordered. The doctor nodded his assent, and went below deck, likely to the infirmary to gather supplies. Handing the Poneglyphs to Beckman, Shanks shifted the Omega in his arms so he was carrying you with his arm under your legs. You moved your face so it was buried in the crook of Shanks’s neck, avoiding looking at either the ship or the crew assembled on the deck. He hoped you were acclimating yourself to his scent, it would make your transition away from your previous mate easier. Even through the fear and pain Shanks smelled on you, he could tell your scent was absolutely delicious, like no other woman he’d smelled before. His cock twitched with the thought of claiming you for his own, though your medical issues needed attention first.

Bringing you to his cabin, Shanks shut the door behind you quietly. Depositing the woman onto his bed, you shrank back further into the cloak as if to hide yourself. You gripped the hem of the garment so hard that your fingers were turning white, matching your face as the color drained out. Ah , Shanks thought to himself, she thinks I’m going to ravage her right now like some animal . It made sense, he’d put you on his bed, what else were you going to think? 

Sitting down next to you on the bed, Shanks didn’t speak. Instead, for the first time in the Emperor’s life, he purred. He was an Apex Alpha, a rare breed of Alpha who was able to control other Alphas. It came with Conqueror’s Haki, the two traits going hand in hand. Purring came to him instinctively, but he’d never felt the urge to do so before. He’d had lovers who’d requested it, but Shanks had always laughed them off like they’d told a joke. But seeing you distressed made the rumble come almost unbidden, rising from his chest like a balm. You still didn’t look at him, but your fingers relaxed incrementally. Shanks continued purring for you as you tensed at his presence next to you, tenderly picking you up to sit on his lap. You sat upright, stiff, your body rigid with fear and apprehension.

“Easy, little Omega, easy,” Shanks said between purrs. You didn’t respond but didn’t object either physically or verbally to anything he was doing. Shanks wound his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. The rhythmic sounds were working, lulling you into a state of relaxation and calm as your hands dropped to your lap and your head relaxed against his chest.

Your POV

You were gripping onto the Emperor’s black cloak like it was going to shield you from whatever was going to happen next. It was heavy and warm, smelling like tobacco, cloves, and oranges, a heady combination. Even if your life would be no better under the Emperor, at least this scent wouldn’t make the bile rise in your throat. 

You were still avoiding his gaze, your wrists shaking in the chains under his watch. He’d put you on his bed, likely for the same reasons Kid always had. At least he hadn’t thrown you against the wall or forced you to suck his cock first, making you choke until you cried or passed out. Much to your dismay, he began to purr for you. You’d heard stories during your childhood about the Alpha purr. There were whispers that it was a form of mind control, that it was used to beguile Omegas into doing things against their will. Kid had already done a lot of things against your will, the Emperor didn’t need to purr to make you do anything. You hoped this wasn't a precursor to something vile, though you were long past wishful thinking.

But as the Emperor continued to purr and moved you into his lap, you felt it working despite your efforts to remain alert. The soothing rumble had you taking deep breaths and relaxing your hands. You felt your exhaustion returning to you, adrenaline finally having run its course. Against your better judgment, you laid your head on the broad chest of the Emperor behind you. His well muscled arm encircled you, and you were content to forget the horrors that would likely await you in the coming days, feeling only the warmth and comfort of an Apex Alpha’s purr.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door of the cabin, making you jerk upright once again. You’d looked at the door when you’d been surprised, but you quickly affixed your gaze to the floor once again. You hoped Shanks hadn’t seen your mistake, or that he would be willing to forgive you if he did. But he didn’t move to strike you at all, just called out to whoever had the audacity to bother the Captain. 

“Come in, Hongo,” he said calmly. You wanted to hide your face in the crook of his neck again, but you knew there would be no solace found seeking comfort where there was none. Opening the door, a large man with blonde hair came inside, carrying a black leather doctor’s case. You said nothing and remained in place, it was the safest route for the time being. The man, whose name you now knew to be Hongo, walked slowly towards you and his Captain, as if he was walking towards a wild animal.

“How’re we doin’, Captain?” he asked, surveying the scene in front of him. The Captain obviously hadn’t been hurt, he was talking about you.

“Alright,” Shanks answered, arm squeezing you a little tighter. You flinched as the memories of being crushed by Kid’s arm came flooding back to you. “They had an Omega. She needs some help,” he said softly, patting your thigh over his cloak. You were acutely aware that you were completely nude below the cloak. You hoped Shanks wouldn’t take you in front of Hongo, or at least not for the first time. Kid had done whatever he wanted, it didn’t matter to him who saw what he did to you. 

“Sure, no problem,” Hongo replied easily, opening his bag. He brought out a stethoscope first, something you were familiar with. Winding the scope around his neck, he slowly pried the cloak out of your fingers in order to put the bell on your skin. You desperately wanted to stay within the safety of the cloak, but you knew you had no power. If they wanted to see you naked, they were going to get what they wanted. Surprisingly, Hongo didn’t remove the cloak completely, allowing you use it to cover your breasts and lower half while he worked. As Hongo placed the buds in his ears and reached towards you with the scope, you leaned back and away from the advancing hands. You hadn’t meant to, it was instinctive. Shanks started purring for you again as he gently but firmly kept you in place for Hongo, his arm across your waist.

“You’re safe, Omega, he’s not going to hurt you. He’s just checking your lungs and heart,” the Captain said softly. Hongo took his time listening, moving the scope around your back and front. Once he was done, he put the scope away and took out medical gloves. 

“I’m gonna check the wounds on your top half and neck, OK?” Hongo informed you. You said nothing as he began touching the injuries that you’d suffered at the hands of Kid. You kept yourself from making any noises of pain or recoiling when he touched something painful. You knew you looked beaten and ugly, despite avoiding the mirror. Kid always left bite marks, bruises, hickeys, and cuts whenever he was with you. Your breasts looked like they’d been mauled the last time you’d checked them. But the worst of all was your neck - between the times he’d choked you, the bite he’d given you, and the attention he gave your scent glands nightly, it was a column of black and blue. In spite of your efforts, you hissed when Hongo touched your neck tried to move away from his efficient hands. 

But the men weren’t going to let you shrink away from the medical inspection. Shanks cradled your head against his shoulder when Hongo inspected the agonizing bite on the spot between your neck and shoulder, purring all the while. You knew there was something wrong with it, but Kid had never let you touch it or clean the wound, saying that it would affect your mating bond. You thanked the seas that the bond hadn’t formed, but the throbbing pain of the bite had only gotten worse.

“You’ve got a lot of wounds on your torso and neck. Are there more below?” Hongo asked quietly when he was done inspecting your top half. You waited, not knowing if they wanted you to respond or not. Sometimes it was a trick, people would talk about you while you were there but if you responded, you got in trouble. 

“Hm, do you? I thought I saw some before,” Shanks asked you benignly, rubbing his fingers in circles over your skin. They were both quiet for a few moments and you realized they were waiting for you to respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to talk, so you gave a shaky nod while continuing to look at the floor.

“I’m gonna have to look, OK?” Hongo said, crouching down in front of the Captain. He was trying to make eye contact, but you steadfastly stared down, in order to show your obedience. You blinked rapidly several times, willing the tears not to fall from your eyes. You’d been naked in front of so many people, but the fact that Hongo was asking made you feel more vulnerable than ever. You nodded again, but your hands were frozen in place, gripping the cloak with all your meager strength.

“Brave little Omega, doing so well,” the Emperor said into your hair, kissing the top of your head. You didn’t know when the last time you’d been allowed to bathe was, you were sure you smelled disgusting. Shanks unwound his arm from your waist, and slowly tugged the fabric from your hands, letting it fall onto your lap. You tried not to squirm, not to move as the doctor touched your welts and cuts, but you felt humiliated and debased as he poked and prodded you. After a few minutes of inspection, Hongo sighed, stood up to his full towering height and snapped off the gloves.

“There’s a lot going on,” he said to the Emperor, who had rapidly covered you back in the cloak. “She’s got a lot of wounds, some healing, some new. That bite on her neck is infected, it needs to be taken care of immediately. She’s malnourished and has at least one broken rib. And she’s going to go into heat soon.” 

Your eyes finally snapped to the doctor’s, everything lost to the panic suddenly overwhelming you. 

Shanks POV

Perhaps having Dorry and Broggy destroy the ship wasn’t enough. As Shanks watched you flinch away from Hongo’s inspection, his rage rose by the second. He’d seen your naked form on the ship, but the dim light hadn’t revealed to him the depth of your injuries. It was practically a miracle that you were still alive, Shanks thought. It was well known that Omegas weren’t as durable as Betas and Alphas, they were generally treated with care like the treasures they were. But not only were you littered with wounds from head to toe, but you were a shell of a person. You hadn’t said a single word, you hadn’t made eye contact with him yet, and you hadn’t moved an inch outside of where Shanks had placed you. 

Now, with the information that you were going into heat soon, you were panicking. Shanks could feel your heart beating rapidly and saw your chest rising and falling too quickly. The Alpha in him was worried, wanting to soothe the Omega still perched on his lap. Shanks put his hand over your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Even if the Alpha in him wanted to purr and cuddle you until you calmed down, the Captain needed to get a little more information out of you first. You were still lost in your own world, not responding to any stimulus.

“It’s alright, Sweetheart. Everything is going to be just fine. When was your last heat, hmm?” Shanks asked, holding your face in his hand. The touch seemed to ground you, causing you to blink rapidly as if you suddenly remembered there were other people in the room. You shook your head at his question, making Shanks frown at your answer. The longer an Omega went without a heat, the lengthier and more severe the symptoms were when it reappeared. Shanks hoped you hadn’t gone into heat during your time in captivity, it would increase the likelihood of an unwanted pregnancy. Looking at your body, he couldn’t imagine you were capable of carrying life in your current state. 

“What do you mean, little Omega? You haven’t had a heat in a year? Or longer?” Shanks asked. He knew you were scared and upset, but he and Hongo needed to know this information, it was part of the way they would take care of you. He gently turned your face towards his, forcing you to look up at him. You finally looked at his face, though you didn’t meet his eyes. You shook your head again.

“Tell me more, I need to know how to help you,” Shanks prompted, stroking your cheek. You sucked in a shaky breath, trying to gather yourself before speaking.

“Never,” you said in a hoarse whisper. Shanks recognized the voice from the laughter in the wake of battle.

“Never? What do you mean? This would be your first heat?” Hongo asked incredulously. Shanks hadn’t met another Omega, but it was known that they typically had their first heat cycle in their upper teens. 

You nodded, a tear running down your cheek. 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

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

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table.  You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like. 

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty,  almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

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[yandereunsolved]

Yandere Castiel pining over Jimmy Novak's best friend (S4)—why do you care for his vessel and not him?

Yandere Castiel became aware of your presence the day he became aware that Jimmy Novak was the person who would be his vessel. He didn't think much of you, simply another human amongst all the others. However, all humans are his father's creations. You seemed like what could be called a good friend—loyal. That is something he could relate to. A loyalty that in the beginning he respected wholeheartedly.

A positive beginning that aged like hard cider into a celestial being's desire of possession and obsess.

Yandere Castiel first met you face to face after possessing Jimmy's body. You had heard about his vessel's troubles and had come rushing over. It's an experience he will never forget.

You parked your vehicle in the driveway and ran out of your car in a panic. He could feel your heightened anxiety and panic, and he almost felt something. It was so peculiar. It made his eyebrows furrow and his nose scrunch up.

He was planning on simply leaving, but you stood in front of him and pestered him with questions. When Jimmy's daughter came out, you told her, 'Me and your daddy are just going for a walk. He isn't feeling well, so we are going to get some fresh air.' Which Castiel thought was ludicrous. He tried to rebuff by telling you 'He is an angel of the Lord and that Jimmy Novak is his vessel—to which you promptly clamped your hand over his mouth and scolded him. 

He isn't entirely sure why he got in your human vehicle. He could have simply whisked himself and continued on the mission heaven gave him. He was supposed to. Still, with this unfamiliar reaction to you, he couldn't help but rationalize it as you being important to the celestial plane somehow. 

So that's how he ended up in a human hospital with you filling out papers that pertain to Jimmy.

Yandere Castiel found no need to pretend, so that's how he ended up dragging you into angelic affairs. Or perhaps it was the other way around. You were quite insistent on staying near him after he explained the situation to the extent he was allowed. There wasn't even a hesitance on your part. You were simply protective over his vessel, despite the fact he is the multidimensional being inside the vessel.

That's when that odd sensitivity popped up once again.

It was almost like you were just as concerned for him as you were for Jimmy. It was quite a useless emotion for you to have, but he was still... flattered? by it.

Yandere Castiel reluctantly separated himself from you to an extent. You had attracted attention from both heaven and hell, so he had to. He had to. Right?

Heaven wasn't pleased with him getting distracted. They essentially wanted to allow you to wander back into the world with no angelic protection. It's like leading a lamb to the slaughter. Now Castiel is no stranger to that. He's watched his brothers and sisters slaughter humans for much less egregious acts. Though this time it felt wrong.

He ended up warding you from all angels, including himself, with your consent, of course. He left a specific engraving on your ribs that roughly translates to 'mine. touch this human and I will smite you where you stand.'

Yandere Castiel felt as if his grace had been ripped from him when he was away from you. Could God have created you specially for him? It was an impossible thought. One no angel should have for a human. That's how mighty beings fall. It is heaven's number one rule not to love anything, not even the humanity their God created.

He pushed himself into the mission he was given and tried to ignore the sizzling sensation all over his celestial body. It's a spiritual reaction to being left without your presence for an extended period of time.

He worked with Uriel, then had to kill his brother. He had to kill many more for you to protect you. He met the Winchesters and learned about them; grew attached. Anna tempted him into developing the capacity for human emotion. He was so lost. You were; you are the only thing that makes him feel found—safe.

He took that safety from himself in order to protect you.

Foolishly, he seeked you and, in return, your presence.

That's when heaven knew they had to reprimand him.

Yandere Castiel experienced things up there that would physically not only break a lesser being's psyche but erase it. If anything, it only made that sizzling sensation evolve into a scorching one. It was as if his feathers were being stripped off one by one. An unforgiving hand that forces him towards you. The heart he doesn't have broke and learned to yearn.

Like an obedient soldier, he listened to their words. He swore his loyalty once again, and he was allowed back onto Earth. He didn't go to Jimmy first, no. He scoured the earth and thought you were gone for good until you called for him. That was a rash human decision. You were only hidden unless you made yourself known.

Yandere Castiel had to come and see you. He had to explain himself and rid this fiery ache from his celestial body. Only when he came to your call, your first question was about Jimmy, not him. You looked past him. You ignored the agony that was everywhere on him.

Why? That feeling didn't ease at your lack of care for the angel in front of you.

Your demands to know where Jimmy was and if his family was safe fell deafly on him. He had to put you in your place. Yes, it was out of anger and hurt, but also a certain amount of righteousness he felt he had to regain. You belong to him, even if you don't like it.

"I learned my lesson while I was away. I serve Heaven, I don’t serve man. And I-I certainly don’t s-serve... you."

He's just an obedient little soldier who has been broken by you.

[kabr0ztrousers]

I would love to a part 2 to 61:Angels & Demons!! Maybe some angels go looking for him and get caught by the hell hounds and they end up forming a demon/hellhound orgy.

Idek I just want more corruption of angels tbh ;)

Kabr0z Writes Episode 150: Search Party

This episode will make more sense if you've read Episode 61

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

I swear I'm gonna update the AO3 eventually!

CWs: dubcon; coercion; corruption; pain; transformation; knotting; oral sex;

A/N: I feel like the CWs for these episodes are starting to get similar... Maybe I need a beta reader to help me catch stuff I don't. Although if any of y'all get a squick you weren't warned about, give me a shout and I can always amend them

###################################

Oriniel was missing. He had been for months, last seen three months ago descending from Heaven. A week later, the beurocracy started to notice his work piling up. An investigation was launched and agents dispatched to Earth to search. Scouring the entirety of creation for a single missing angel would take time though, and you wanted your friend back.

You'd worked with him for the last millennium or so, scouring the fiction sections of the humans libraries, recommending works to one another while waiting for choir practice to start. The other angels were understanding, but put too much faith in their systems. You weren't content to wait for a full search. You knew a faster way, it wasn't strictly permitted, but back channels exist for a reason.

Your first trick was writing a coded message. When you got down there you'd publish it to the internet in a story. The immaculate algorithm would immediately recognise it for what it is and send it to the celestial codebreakers. The story is unimportant, it exists to be decoded, the really vital thing was making sure it took at least a few days to break, and of course the content. Your name, where you're going, who you're meeting, and an instruction: don't look for me.

The flight to Earth was easy. Go down. Listen for a prayer, latch on to it. Follow it in. Someone's always praying for something, it doesn't matter who's praying, what they're asking for, it didn't even matter who they were praying to as long as they weren't trying to call up a demon. What mattered was the intention, the right intention and the prayer's all you need to slip into the mortal realm.

Sure enough you found one, someone praying for a new car to somehow land in their lap. It probably wouldn't be answered, but that didn't matter. You locked onto it, angling your flight down the metaphysical contour, slipping into the human's world a dozen or so miles above what you're pretty sure was Britain.

Always nice when you appear nearby to where you needed to go.

You zoned in on a desanctified church you were familiar with. Far enough from any collection of people that you weren't going to be disturbed. You flew unseen, millions of people lived on this rainy island, and not one of them ever seemed to look up.

The church was quiet, only accessible through a hole in the roof. Ivy grew in through broken windows, mouldering pews scattered the floors. You dragged the furniture, such as it was to one side, taking a couple of slivers of rotting wood as you did.

The ritual to call forth the demon was simple. A thimbleful of mouse blood and the pair of wooden chips, applied with just the right know-how, and you'd done it.

The thinned veil of the church bent, warping under the strain of the ritual, before it snapped altogether, and the demon stepped through the gap.

Silusirex, an augur of some repute. Not above working with angels, despite the aeons long cold war between your peoples. Calling him here was forbidden. If word got out you'd made a deal with him, you'd be demoted. Depending on the deal, that might be lenient.

Silusirex stood before you, examining his nails. He didn't have a face, merely a void where a face would be. If you looked straight into it, you could see the void extended far beyond the back of his head, into unknown space behind him, inky black, filled with stars. His skin was white as white could be, shadows refused to fall on it, though it emitted no light of its own. Instead, where he stood it seemed as though someone had cut a demon-shaped hole in the world, showing the pale nothing behind. His nails were long, and black, his feet bare, a crown of ivory atop his head, held in place by black iron horns growing through gaps strategically drilled in the yellowing bone.

As with so many demons, he didn't wear a stitch. Where you hid your feminine body under a shapeless cassock, not even cinching the waist to display your hips, he left nothing to the imagination. Indeed, the one detail of his torso he chose to draw attention to, the only part of him that didn't blend into the sea of flat, featureless white, was a sheath between his legs.

You found your eyes drawn to that sheath. You knew enough about demons to know you were probably going to become intimately familiar with it soon. An augur can answer a great many questions, but a price is exacted. You stared so long you didn't notice his gaze turn to you

"Why have you summoned me, angel? What would you ask of the Grand Augur of the Ashen Radiant?"

His voice was like a headache, ringing in the back of your skull.

You winced. You'd never felt pain before. It wasn't much fun. Then the pain subsided, and you wanted more

"I have come to find someone" you spoke clearly, putting the unbidden desire from your mind "A missing angel named Oriniel"

Silusirex laughed. You clutched the sides of your head as it thundered through you. Your mouth parted slightly, a trickle of bloody saliva, glittering and golden, dripped from your lower lip.

"I know where the one you seek is, and I will tell you. But you must meet my price, angel, or you will never hear it from me"

You stared into the void of his face, waiting for the pain to subside again. Your heart fluttered. You were anxious. You'd never been anxious before, not about anything. You were protected by the ritual, that much is true. If the price is too great, you'll just leave, let the demon slip back into Hell and be home before anyone's the wiser, with plenty of time before your code hits the beurocracy in order to take it back.

"Name your price, demon"

He smiled. You're not sure how a creature with no mouth smiles, but you know he did "Get on your knees, open your mouth, and don't resist"

You could see the tip of his cock poking out of the sheath. Blood red against white flesh. You swallowed hard, hearing him chuckle as you weighed up your options. You'd heard of angels giving head before and not falling, but you'd also heard about desire. How when it starts, it's hard to stop. How you could end up chasing it and chasing it until before you realised the path you're on it's too late.

The laughter bounced around your head. It hurt. You wanted more. You needed more.

Your knees hit the ground.

Your hands rested on your legs.

Your mouth opened.

He stepped into you.

The first thing you noticed was the smell. It wasn't bad. You'd always expected a cock to smell repulsive, of ammonia and old sweat. This didn't smell like that. There was a hint of something musky, like the smell that clings to someone after a run, and something else you couldn't place, sweet, sharp, savoury, all at once.

The next thing was the size of it. Silusirex's hand was at his crotch, working the length of his member free from the sheath. You watched with awe as it just kept growing in his hand. By the time the knot sprung free, it had gone from being an inch-long nub poking from the end of the sheath to a gross protuberance, well over a foot long and three inches thick in places, the knot even wider than that.

You steeled your resolve. You're here for Oriniel. You balled your hands into fists, gripping the hem of your robe and closed your eyes. You couldn't get the image of it out of your head though, nor could you stop your mouth from watering at the thought of it.

Long-nailed fingers gripped your hair. Only one hand, the other off doing Heavens know what. He pulled you in, sliding himself down your throat.

You gagged. The cock was already at your tonsils, seeping precum into your throat.

You could feel yourself blushing, only imagining how you look right now, a demon's cock not even halfway in your mouth. You couldn't help but picture it, an angel being towered over by a demon, feathery white wings twitching helplessly as she gags on his cock, him guiding her over just the last third. He hasn't even really forced you yet. He could if he wanted to. He could drag you down to his hilt, use your throat like a pussy: a warm, wet hole to fuck, to empty his throbbing, pendulous balls into.

Fuck. Why isn't he?

Your hand leaves your thigh, jumping to the one in your hair. Silusirex's grip loosened for a split second, before you curled his fingers between your thick locks. You took him as deep as you could, to the very edge, after which your body wouldn't let you continue, still holding his hand, guiding him.

"What's this? My my my, the angel wants more?"

Again, the pain in the back of your brain. It focused your mind, made you want it more, harder, every sinew in your body screamed for it.

You nodded.

He pushed.

Your hand wasn't needed any more. You'd altered the deal, and he'd accepted. You could feel him halfway down your throat. You couldn't help it. Your other hand strayed up your thigh. You felt wetness spreading over your crotch. Your fingers touched it. A strum of pleasure raced through you, like someone had plucked the lowest note on a guitar.

You lifted your hand to inspect it. A thin film of silvery liquid strung between your index and middle fingers. You held it up for the demon to see, you're not sure why.

"Why, little angel, you're enjoying this, aren't you?"

You moaned when the pain started, your eyes unable to focus. The wetness spreading beneath your clothing.

You nodded.

Silusirex pulled out of your mouth.

You gasped as he pulled you up by the hair, bending you over a pew.

He gathered your cassock in one hand, baring your ass and glinting pussy to him. His cock sat at the entrance to your cunt

"Only if you want it, angel, but I won't be held responsible for what happens next"

You whined for him, reaching backwards to stroke his cock, shifting yourself to tease the tip

"Close enough"

Hands closed around your waist as he pressed his weight into you. You moaned as his cock parted you, your hips working with him, riding him as he fucked you from behind. You could feel his tip knocking on the door of your cervix.

It hurt like hell. Wave after wave of pain flooded you, every grinding press into your cunt made him prod harder. You didn't care.

Your halo squealed above you. Your legs started to shake. Your mouth dropped open. Your hands gripped his.

Then

Release

You squirted when you came. First it was silver, then steel, then iron, then pitch. The screaming metal run over your head shattered, shards sticking into your head. Your skin bubbled and changed, your body becoming softer, more pliable. Sensation filled you as a thousand hyper-sensitive clits grew along the depth of your cunt, each one throbbing as you pushed back upon the demon. Your wings burned to ash, feathers blackening and falling as so much dust.

You were complete.

You wanted more.

You looked back at Silusirex, willing him on. You bucked your hips "fuck me, daddy, and make it hurt"

The demon behind you laughed. You groaned. He pulled your hair, he dug his stilleto-sharp nails into your back. He burned you with magic and slapped your ass. Every new punishment he gave you made you clench and leak around him. Every shock of pain brought you a little closer.

He stuffed his cock the rest of the way into you. You felt it slam into your back wall, forcing through the tiny entrance to your womb. The pain was exquisite, flooding you, making your eyes roll and your head spin.

Then he knotted you.

He was all the way in. His hips kissed yours, over and over again as he tugged the knot out, and slammed it back in. Every thrust stretched your ruined cunt harder. Every time he hit the top of your womb, sending waves of sweet agony through you. More inky-black squirt sprayed from you, soaking both your legs, pooling on the floor.

You collapsed, no longer possessing the energy to prop yourself up.

He knotted you for the last time, cum streaming from him as he held your waist, keeping your hips tight against his as he cooed to you.

He lifted you up, a new demon in the arms of her creator, and carried you to your new home.

He'd tell you of your friend's fate, of course, but that could wait until you woke up

[anticipayosbot]

And they were neighbours! Chapter 2

Okay you beautiful people, I'm back. As always, reblogs and comments are dearly appreciated. Love you all

DO NOT UPLOAD MY WORK TO ANY AI ENGINES, IF YOU DO SO I WILL FIND YOU AND GIVE YOU HELL

Dr Michael Robinavitch x f! plus size reader

gif by @skulandcrossbones

Word count: 1,5k

Chapter 1

Masterlist

MDNI, 18+ BLOG AND WORK

TAGS: fluff, male masturbation, dirty thoughts, robby being self depricating, robby's pov, robby sees a therapist!!!!

Working at The Pitt was always…eventful, but today had been a pretty good day all in all for Robby; even after seeing three people with weird phallus-like objects up their ass that they couldn’t get out on their own, he was quite happy. So yeah, maybe he had a little strut in his step on his walk back home, no patient died on his shift and he didn’t get any unwanted bodily fluids on his scrubs, it was a good day. Maybe the day could get even better if he happened to see the cute young plump thing that lived on the apartment next to his, despite the fact that each time he saw her and felt the slightest sliver of desire, he couldn’t help but cringe at himself for being the dirtiest old man known to mankind. Fuck, there was the guilt again. The new shrink that Jack suggested had told him that growing up in a religious environment may have altered his perception of what was worth feeling guilty for; but he knew that if he told him how hot and bothered he got for a 28 year old woman that he shared some kind of friendship with, his therapist would worry in some kind of way. Fuck, so much for a good day. 

Robby dragged his hand across his face and tried to shake himself out of the never ending spiral of shame and guilt, took a deep breath and opened the door to the reception of his apartment building while taking out his wireless earbuds and putting them inside the case, which he had learned to do the hard way, after losing way too many new pairs. He looked up and there you were, in all your celestial glory. You were wearing that fucking mini skirt, the one that made him want to bend you over the nearest surface and let caution be damned for once. God he wanted, no, he needed to show you what it felt like to be worshipped and taken care of by a real man; he had heard your fake pitiful moans one too many times and knew that those boys you were bringing home weren’t able to give you the pleasure you needed. Dear God, he really needed to get it together before he reached your presence near the elevator. He smiled through the never ending shame he felt for desiring you and got inside the lift. 

“Hi kid, you going up?” He cringed to himself, why did he fucking call you kid when he wanted nothing more than to f-

“Hi” You answered with one of those bashful beautiful smiles “Yup, and you?” That made him smile “Oh god” 

He chuckled and pressed the button. He couldn’t help but look at you, he blushed slightly when he noticed that you caught him staring and just gestured for you to exit first when the elevator arrived at your floor. He really needed to get you out of his system, maybe he should go on that blind date that Heather tried to set up for him.

“Um, I was wondering if you ever wanted to grab a cup of coffee?” He was sure that his shock was evident in his face, you surely couldn’t be talking to him. “Maybe at the new coffee shop down the street?” Oh, you were talking to him. He wanted to say yes so badly but he couldn’t weigh a beautiful young thing like you down “They make great coo-”

“Look, sweetheart, I am very flattered but you shouldn’t waste your time on an old man like me” He was sure this was the right path, and that once he made you see that you were able to achieve so much more than just dating an old grandpa like him, you would be thankful “Why don’t you ask John from 3 B? He’s about your age” He thought he was being chivalrous and polite, he even provided you with a second option so you wouldn’t feel like he was rejecting you. Clearly he thought wrong, because as soon as the words left his mouth he saw your eyes darken with anger. 

“Michael, I am a grown woman, I can decide who I wanna waste my time on by myself” Fuck, that shouldn’t make him as aroused as it did  “Is it because I’m fat? Because if it is then I am kind of disappointed in you, in fact, I expected more from a man as kind as your-” he had royally fucked this up, how could he make you believe for even a second that he wouldn’t or, worse, couldn’t be attracted to you because of your size? Your plush thighs and voluptuous body ignited a fire inside his body each and every time he looked at you, in fact he remembered the time he almost passed out from how fucking fast he got hard when he saw you walking out in a low cut tight dress. Yeah, maybe he should be thinking about puppies and his grandma right now and not how crazy your body made him. He sighed and placed his hand on your arm, he tried to look at you with as much softness as he could convey. 

“Sweetheart, you are a very beautiful woman and you are right, you are grown and can decide with whom you want to spend your time…” He ruffled his hair nervously “But I am much older than you, I could be your father” 

“But you aren’t” Why did saying that seem to make you clench your thighs? He thought that comparing himself to a father figure would deter you. 

He let out a dry chuckle and tried a different route, “Kid, I have a lot of baggage, I sleep like shit, I’m married to the job and… I don’t think I can give you the softness you deserve”

“But-” 

“End of discussion” he said as sternly as he could, trying to use what Dana called his “angry dad” voice

“You know, Michael, you deserve softness too” oh god, he was definitely talking about this in therapy, how could you do that so easily? Shake him to his very core without even trying “Have a good night” you smiled coyly and entered your apartment. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! What was that thing his therapist said? Something about how he spiralled when everything wasn’t in his control, that fucking bastard was right. He sighed and opened the door to his apartment as quickly as he could, trying and failing to ignore how his shaft was growing harder by the minute. 

“Get it together, Robinavitch” he murmured, yet he knew that this was a lost battle. He was a weak man when it came to you. You had that smile that could melt anyone who was on the receiving end of it, and he was pretty sure that if he bottled up your laugh he could inject it via IV to his most critical patients and save them. Not only that but you even had the audacity to be kind to him, how fucking dare you? You took one look at him and his hardened mean dog exterior and decided that even he was deserving of your kindness, like the one time you baked him the most delicious cookies he had ever tasted or how you sang to the plants that he had in his balcony when you thought he wasn’t home, saying something about how they needed to be fed love as well. There was also that one time when you shyly gifted him a pristine medical journal, excusing yourself by telling him that it was your brother’s and that he had way too many as it was. He was pretty sure he was fully erect now, and that he couldn’t do anything to help his erection go down. So he did the next best thing: he thought about you. About you and how you smelled of flowers, fuck, he also knew for a fact that if he touched you he would melt into the softness of your skin, how were you so soft? He thought about your neck and how it stretched when you laughed particularly hard about something,  the way in which your thighs seemed to get even bigger when you sat and the shame that it brought you while, unbeknownst to you, he felt fire trailing up his spine each damn time. He imagined the roundness of your breasts and the sweetness of your pussy, would you like him to eat you out? Had any of the idiots you brought home even bothered to show you a good time? Fuck, Robby couldn’t help the groan he let out at the thought of tasting you. He took himself out and started stroking himself right next to his door, that was how desperate you made him. He spat in his hand to try and pretend it was your wetness, how wet would you get? Were you sensitive and responsive? It’s okay if you weren’t, he would take his sweet time to draw those little sounds out of you. 

“Fuck me” he groaned at the same time he imagined you beneath him, with your legs around his waist while he pounded deep into you, he’d fill you up if you asked him nicely and maybe, if he was lucky enough, you would beg him not to pull himself out even after he came. “Oh my god” yeah, that did it, he came over his freshly washed scrubs with a pained moan. Robby rested his head on his door and felt the shame start to bloom inside him. He was such a dirty old man, fantasizing about a young sweet thing such as yourself. He went inside his bathroom and got inside the shower, hoping that he could scrub out his desire for you with water and soap. He went through the motions as guilt ate him inside out and after he turned off the water and dried himself off with a towel, he reached for his cell phone and texted Collins

Heather, this is Robby. I think I will take you up on that blind date offer

The reply came almost instantly 

I know it’s you, weirdo, I have your contact saved

But it makes me very happy that you finally got your head out of your ass, you’ll love Susie, she’s the sweetest

Three dots appeared on his screen, then disappeared and came back again

She’s also smoking hot

Like 5’10 and 50% toned pilates legs

He let out a dry chuckle and typed his response 

Okay, ED Cupid, when do I get to meet her? 

Collins answered way too quickly for his liking 

What about tonight? You have tomorrow free

He ran a hand through his face and sighed, he would prefer to never go on that date but he needed to do the right, age appropriate choice

Sounds good, send me the restaurant address 

He was making the right choice, or that’s what he tried to tell himself.

Taglist: @charmedkim @ryankaylamartin96 @art-by-jas @livelaughlexa @yeyinde

[itsabouttimex2]

you’ve dragged me into the LEGO monkey kid fandom

so I was wondering macaque with a healer kid? If that’s not too much

I’m very sorry but I love your writing

Little Healer Headcanons

Macaque and Ne Zha

(I always love hearing that I got someone into Monkie Kid- it’s one of the things that makes me happiest to read!)

You spend a lot of your time patching this guy up- by design. Since Macaque has an adorable little friend to mend his injuries, why should he temper his powers? The sable simian never bothers to hold back in the slightest.

Macaque goes out of his way to go overboard, knowing that his dear white mage will be there for him with a stave and a worried frown.

Unfortunately for him, it seems to be that you have a longer line of clients and customers than ever before- not that it’s really a surprise.

Someone was on the other side of all those fights he was winning, after all~

And he’s willing to leave a few more bruises if the crowd can’t part for him fast enough- after all, Macaque will always be first in line to receive your services.

And sure, maybe he’ll ignore your squawking and protesting when he forces you to shut down the itty-bitty clinic (probably just an unlicensed street stall) early to get in a good snuggle, “repaying the favor” by tossing you over his shoulder and heading home so he can coddle you like his own child.

He’ll force you to take breaks by jamming stolen handheld consoles into your hands, setting you up with slow turn-based games and decoration simulators to slowly lull you into a cozy sleep- all while resting your head in his lap, of course- he’s gotta get that fatherly skinship in.

Plies you with healthy snacks and fruit-infused water made to keep one’s energy and health up, ensuring that you’ll always be at the top of your game- but only for him, of course!

If you ever do come around to calling him “dad”, he’s going to be over the moon- in his own subtle way.

He’ll sneak into your room late at night, Rumble and Savage casing the perimeter, and… press a soft kiss to your forehead, snap a little tracker-embedded bracelet around your wrist…

And then drag you off the bed and take you home for good.

Oh, he loves you so, so much.

Assuming that you, as a healer, fall into the “white-hearted healing cutie” stereotype, then you are Ne Zha’s de-facto favorite person.

He finally has someone who stays out of trouble and does as told? He finally has someone who listens to his commands and acts when told to act? Someone loyal and sweet and obedient?

Perfect.

“As always,” he says frequently, one hand on your head, “I am proud of your efforts to serve our realm.”

“Thank you,” is your return, polite and curt. It earns you another head pat, though Ne Zha is always careful not to muss your hair.

“Very good. I’ll send in the next soldier.”

This is the life he’s built for you, safe and slow and useful.

And with him by your side the days drift and bleed, every moment of your time micromanaged and utilized.

It’s rare to get a break unless you work yourself to the point of sickness, at which point he’ll tuck you in with a mug of hot tea and a small basket of fruit on the bedside and “Maybe a bowl of those noodles from that mortal store you like, if you behave yourself, Y/N.”

He tries to be sweet and gentle, but Ne Zha still has a temper and is still very stressed out by the stunts of the Monkie Kids- it’s not impossible that he’ll snap and take his anger out on you.

And though this is pretty much the literal worst thing he’d ever do to you (aside from MAYBE a very mild flogging given the Celestial Realm practices that in the novel? It doesn’t fit with his character at all to any degree so I’m split. He seems more like a non-physical lecturer) it still hurts like hell to work so hard and be so good and still get punished for something that wasn’t even your fault.

And Ne Zha feels like trash afterwards but is too proud too apologize, and regardless is too worried that he’d lose his control over you if he treated you like an equal and outright said “sorry”, so he just takes a trip to the mortal realm and buys you something hot and fried.

He’ll wrap the grease-stained paper in a cloth sack to prevent any confused stares that might arise in the Celestial Realm, and book the horrid food down to your room.

Though the quality leaves quite a bit to be desired, and the healthy value makes him want to scream and slap the burger from your hands…

You’ve stopped sniffling.

And that’s enough for him

[penny00dreadful]

STWG Prompt: star

Steve blinked, the cogs finally sliding into place.

"You're the star! You're the star?"

"Yes! Obviously." The star rolled his eyes. 

He was all idiosyncrasies. Gorgeous but downright snippy. A shock of long dark hair and dark eyes to go with his pale skin. Black tattoos up and down his arms and a heavy silvery cloak shrouding his lithe body.

Steve frowned. "You don't look like a star."

The star scoffed. “Heard that one before.” He muttered before scowling back at Steve. “Well why don’t you tell me then, in your infinite human wisdom, what stars are supposed to look like?”

“I don’t know! Like,” he waved his hand up towards the sky, “like a big clump of burning rock or something. I’m not a fucking astronomer. Why do you look so… human?”

“Why do you look so celestial?” The star raised his wrist to his mouth, trying to chew through the tether Steve had managed to secure him with while he was still getting his bearings, feeling that strange pull, telling him that this human shaped lump at the bottom of this crater was what he was looking for. "Can you take this fucking thing off me?"

"Uh… sorry, no. I can't do that."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because… well because I promised Nancy I'd bring her back the star as a show of… love?" He sounded more unsure the more he spoke. Back when the star was just a meteor or some dust, this was all so simple but now…

"Some girl has demanded you go out and bring back a fucking captive as a show of love?"

"No, that's- she didn't ask me to do anything!"

Actually thinking about it, Nancy had looked almost resigned when he'd suggested it. And a little sad. Like that wasn't really where she had wanted the conversation to go.

Fuck.

Had she been trying to break up with him?

“So you just decided to go into slavery on your own?”

“No! I- I have a way to send you home after… when I show Nancy what I’ve done for her. When I prove it to her. She won’t want to keep you after… she doesn’t abide by slavery.”

The star huffed, crossing his arms and pulling Steve forward a little with the restraint. He didn’t even seem to notice. “And what if I don’t want to go home?”

“Why wouldn’t you-” Steve stopped. He supposed it wasn’t really his place to ask. “Then I’ll free you, you can do whatever the hell it is you came down here to do.”

The star looked at him, thinking, turning it over in his head with a little side to side motion. "Okay, how about this? We help each other out. You let me go and I promise to come with you back to Nancy and then you help me find what I came down here to find.”

Steve frowned again. He wasn’t sure. The star could be lying to him but Robin always told him he was a great judge of character. And it didn’t seem like this star was going to run away. He wanted something down here, on earth.

“What are you trying to find?”

The star’s face went a little pink at that.

Interesting. 

“I… I’ve been watching humans for hundreds of years, your wars, your hate for each other, your petty differences, the natural disasters that devastate your people. But through all that there always seems to be a thread of love. Even if it’s just one person plucking her sister out of the floodwaters or two lovers on opposite sides of the fight meeting in secret… love is always there and I… I want… that.”

“You came down here to find love?”

The star turned his back on him, embarrassment radiating off of his body in waves. “Yeah. So what if I did?”

How could Steve ever say no to that?

He pulled at the lash around the star’s wrist, allowing it to slip free and dragged it back towards himself.

“Okay.”

The star turned around, his big brown eyes wide in shock. “Okay? Just like that?”

“Yeah. Just like that.”  He held his hand out. “I’m Steve. Do you have a name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask before now.”

The star looked down at his hand as he took three steps closer, looking back up at Steve’s face then down again, extending his own hand, slim fingers and all.

“Eddie.”

Nancy had wanted to break up with him as it turned out and hadn’t known how to do it after Steve had adamantly told her he'd travel outside of Hawkins to find her the star.

When he came back to her to tell her he’d found his own love in Eddie on his travels she beamed at him, placing a kiss against his cheek.

“I’m glad." She said. "You deserve it.”

Eddie, who had never come across a ring or necklace at a market stall that he didn’t like, always drawn to the shine. Eddie who had shed the bright almost white silvery cloak for blackened leathers and heavy boots, as dark as the night sky. Eddie, who had gifted Steve a single lock of hair to bring back to Nancy, promising to meet up with him in a few hours, once he’d finished spending all of Steve’s money at the closest bookshop beyond the Gate that separated Faeria from Steve’s world.

Eddie’s lock of hair that Steve now handed over to Nancy who looked into the handkerchief with confusion.

“Steve?”

He looked down.

Eddie’s hair had turned to stardust.

“He can’t cross the Gate.” Steve whispered to himself, horrified before turning and running with everything he had back the way he came, Nancy’s shouts fading out behind him.

He wasn’t sure how long it took him to run through the old cobbled streets, out into the field but just as the Gate came into sight, he saw Eddie on the opposite side round the corner and start walking towards it.

He could do it, he could make it, he could-

“Eddie!” He shouted, stopping Eddie dead in his tracks before his boot could cross the border.

“Ste-?” 

His words were cut off as Steve bodily slammed into him, throwing them both into the grass and away from the Gate.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned, rubbing the back of his head. “That excited to see me?”

“You.” Steve panted, clinging on as tight as he could. “Can’t cross. Gate. Hair. Turned. To. Lump of rock.”

“Oh shit, really?” Eddie ran a hand up and down his back, settling into the grass. “That would have been awkward. And you came to save me?” Eddie sighed, fluttering his eyelashes. Steve could feel it against his cheek. “My hero.”

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, looking at Eddie spread out below him, dark curls fanning out around his head and a cheeky grin on his face. He lowered himself down for a kiss, muttering into his mouth “You’re damn right I came to save you. Can’t have anything taking my star away.”

Continued

[austriannia]

Soldier Boy x Castiel Banter

TLDR: Soldier Boy sees Castiel’s wings and has an existential crisis (with a side of unwanted feelings)

A desolate road at midnight, the air thick with static from a recent fight. Soldier Boy is sitting on the hood of a wrecked car, chest heaving, bruised but grinning like he just won the damn lottery. Castiel stands a few feet away, wings out "fully out" spanning wide, dark and ethereal, shifting like they belong to something outside the realm of human understanding. The moonlight catches on them just right, making him look—well.

Like something Soldier Boy should not be feeling things about.

Soldier Boy: [running a hand down his face, exhaling] Okay, so.

Castiel: [watching him patiently] So?

Soldier Boy: [gesturing vaguely] You’re just gonna whip those out and act like it’s normal?

Castiel: [tilting his head] I am an angel. This is normal.

Soldier Boy: [grumbling, shifting in place] Yeah, well, normal ain't supposed to make me wanna drop to my damn knees and ... never mind.

[Castiel takes a slow step forward, wings still half-extended, the air practically humming with something heavy and unspoken.]

Castiel: [calmly] You seem… unsettled.

Soldier Boy: [snorts] Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. You’re out here looking like a goddamn revelation, and I’m supposed to what? Shake your hand? Buy you a beer?

Castiel: [deadpan] That would be a reasonable response.

[Soldier Boy drags a hand down his face, looking absolutely exasperated.]

Soldier Boy: [muttering] Right. Sure. Lemme just ignore the fact that you’re standing there like something outta one of those creepy old church paintings. All you need’s a choir and some dramatic lighting.

[Castiel's wings shift slightly, the edges curling inward like they’re reacting to the conversation.]

Castiel: [musing] I could summon a choir.

Soldier Boy: [pointing at him] Don’t you dare.

[A beat. Soldier Boy leans back, rubbing his temples like this is personally offensive.]

Soldier Boy: [muttering, dragging a hand down his face] Man, I had issues before you, but this? This is some on-my-knees, begging-for-mercy, mind-wrecking type shit.

Castiel: [blinking] Do you require assistance?

Soldier Boy: [dryly] Yeah, Cas. Call up heaven, see if they’ve got a hotline for unexpected celestial attraction syndrome.

[Castiel just stares at him. Soldier Boy looks back. Neither of them move.]

Soldier Boy: [grumbling, looking away] …This is your fault.

Castiel: [mildly amused] Is it?

Soldier Boy: [gesturing vaguely at his entire existence] Look at you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to mess with me.

Castiel: [stepping just a little closer, voice lower] I wouldn’t need to try.

[A long pause. Soldier Boy inhales sharply, scrubs a hand through his hair, and mutters something under his breath that definitely isn’t a prayer but feels like one. Then he lets out a rough, tired laugh.]

Soldier Boy: [grinning, shaking his head] If you weren’t already God’s problem, angel, I swear to hell, you’d be mine.

Castiel: [quietly] Perhaps I already am.

[Silence. The wind shifts. Soldier Boy swears he feels it in his chest.]

Soldier Boy: [muttering, more to himself than anyone] Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of.

[skmhlml]

Ask: Normally I'd wallow in self reflection and curse myself for not asking however today is a good day. I'd like to know if a Captive!Angel! ReaderXCaptor!Demon!lover could happen. It's not a.. let's say unwanted relationship and nor is it Stockholm syndrome. The reader is taken captive for an inaccurate crime and placed in hell for a {You chose} ban. They will take out their frustrations on a punching bag while thinking of their lover. Their lover is actually the demon who did the crime and works at the prison. He has been called to be sure they {the reader} gets taken care of (wanted rough smut) everyday with a new surprise (kink) everyday. If you don't want to do this let me know, I'd like to voice some other ideas.

Captive!Angel! Reader X Captor!Demon!lover (🌶️🔥)

Chains didn’t chafe you wrists anymore.

You’d learned how to move with them.

Graceful. Silent. Searing.

The cell they gave you wasn’t stone—it pulsed like something living, damp and warm, more flesh than brick. Heaven wouldn’t acknowledge your imprisonment. After all, what angel could be sentenced to Hell without trial? Without witness?

False crime.

Real sentence.

Permanent shame.

You’d been cast for a massacre you never committed, not realizing the true criminal—him—had orchestrated the entire thing. And still, you waited for him every night like a lover counting stars

Not that you had a choice.

The punching bag in your cell swung wildly, sweat glistening over your bare shoulders as you cracked your knuckles into the dense, leathery surface. Not for fitness. Not for frustration.

For him.

He wanted you worn out.

He liked you best when her body was half-drained and pliable, skin slick and sensitive, fury simmering just under the surface. He wanted you strong. Alive. Angelic. But at his mercy.

The cell door groaned open like a mouth splitting wide. A heavy, sulfur-scented gust swept in before his shadow did—massive, curled with smoke, shaped like sin wearing flesh.

You didn’t stop punching.

“Still angry?” he asked, voice dripping with warmth that felt more like oil than affection.

“Still guilty?” you replied, spitting on the floor. “Murderer.”

He chuckled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

You finally stopped. The chains at your wrists clinked as you turned—only for him to appear right in front of you, teleporting with that smug, infernal smirk curling your lips.

He pressed a claw under her chin. “But I’m your murderer, darling.”

—

Day 1

He had you bound by the halo. Not a metaphor.

The golden ring that once crowned your head now hovered above you, a corrupted leash that flared and burned if you pulled too far from the bedpost he attached it to. You were naked, wrists tied behind your back with infernal rope that pulsed like a heartbeat.

His mouth was on your thighs, kissing cruelly slow up the inside, dragging his fangs over sensitive skin.

“Look at you,” he purred. “Celestial royalty… dripping for a war criminal.

You gasped as his tongue slid inside you, rough and hot and wrong in every way except how your body throbbed with desperate pleasure. He didn’t let you finish.

Not yet.

He edged you until she sobbed, whispered filth into her ear, and laughed when you begged for mercy you didn’t need. And when he finally let you come, it was with a firm hand around your throat and his tongue buried deep between your legs.

—

Day 2

He appeared with a chalice of molten silver.

“Trust me,” he said.

You did.

He drizzled it slowly over your stomach. The enchanted liquid slid warm, not scalding, trailing shimmering paths along your ribs and hips. He painted you with it, called you his “statue of ruin,” his “frozen flame.” And then his fingers slid into you, pumping slow and deep while the silver hardened into symbols of possession.

He praised you through every moan.

“My good little angel.” he praised

“So beautiful when you break.” he purred

“No heaven could deserve you now.” he cooed

—

Day 3

Blindfolded. Ear plugs. Spread open on black silk sheets. You didn’t know where he was—only that he was.

First it was feathers. Then teeth. Then toys.

A vibrator against your clit. Tongue against your nipples. Nothing and everything. He’d edge you until you were screaming silently, writhing in the dark, until he whispered:

“Say my name if you want to come.”

You refused.

He kissed her thighs. “Bad girl. Tomorrow, then.”

—

Day 4

You snapped your chains once in the morning

He smiled at the dent in the wall.

That night, he had you over his knee.

Your wings twitched with every slap—bare skin met open palm, each strike laced with enchantment that sent pleasure trembling through your core. You arched. He spanked you until your ass glowed, then held you as you sobbed quietly against his chest.

“You did good,” he murmured into your hair. “You always do.”

He ran a warm cloth over your skin. Kissed each welt. Called you strong.

—

Day 5

He bent you over the bars.

The other prisoners were forced to watch. But none dared look. Not when you were his.

He took you from behind, slow at first, then brutal—gripping your hips as if you’d vanish otherwise. Your moans echoed down the corridor. Your wings fluttered helplessly.

“You like being mine in front of them, don’t you?” he whispered, licking the sweat from your shoulder.

You nodded. No shame. No restraint.

Only heat. Raw and holy and ruined.

—

Day 6

That night he brought a toy.

He slid it into your ass, then took you in the front. Your legs shook. Your halo flickered. The combination of thick, stretching fullness and his rough, thrusting hips made your vision spark white.

You clawed at his shoulders, panting his name like a prayer.

He growled, “You’ll never want Heaven again.”

And you didn’t.

—

Day 7

He filled you.

Over and over again. Holding you down. Kissing your neck. Telling you he’d keep you here forever.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “No false god gets you back.”

You cried, but not from pain.

His heat filled you like fire in your womb. His claws left bruises where your thighs met your hips. He made you come around him three times before he let himself spill inside, groaning deep in your ear.

He stayed inside you after, pressing kisses along your glowing back.

“You’ll be my queen one day,” he murmured. “This is just the beginning.”

[edenspoem]

ellie nude hcs yes please. don’t forget to mention them abs and muscles 😩

ellie nude hcs

⋆' aestras footnotes x.

⋆' a/n; decided to write them. right then and there. lmk your ideas below!! enjoy!! MDNI.

masterlist

⋆' ellie, who sleeps half-nude, always ravages her hoodies in the process of taking them off. gets that excited to feel your skin through and through, big spooning you in bed with her perky nipples grazing the grooves of your back. I think most of the time, her boxers will remain untouched when you're just sleeping. but, feeling horny? now they're chucked to some lifeless corner of the room, and the sticky plush of her pussy is dragging against your butt, one leg hooked over your thighs. humping like a dog, as usual. "hahh– fuck, couldn't wait– mmh, can'i touch you?"

⋆' with her toned abdomen, built from the patrol routes that had her climbing, hauling and lifting, she's fucking eye candy. indirectly flaunting her beautiful abs when you straddle her. you always feel the creases and grooves of her robust muscles contracting and tightening whenever you're feeling her up, gulping firmly and staring you down with those emerald eyes. always has to fondle you back, hands reaching instinctively to your hips, giggling into a kiss.

⋆' a girl who loves having her scars caressed by the pad of your thumbs. kiss them, and she's holding you close, pleating her boxers down to her ankles while keeping steady contact, hot breath choppy in her invigorated state. in particular, the scar on her thigh. brush your lips over it, and she'll nearly start riding your face right away.

⋆' the freckles most viable of seeing them that dot her face, trickle down and strike her skin like a cinnamon constellation. shoulders are the next most freckled area of her body. that's why you love kissing her there, she's gone so sensitive for those nibbles, whimpering little "mmhs–" and "babe, fuck–" when you latch there. her pussy is angrily throbbing at that point.

⋆' happy trail. that's it. never shaves it. perfectly horizontal and framed by a beautifully mild v-line down her hips. thank aphrodite this girl wears low rise to show that auburn trail off.

⋆' speaking of hair, yeah, she's unshaved. pretty little bush under those jeans. spokes out on the top leading to her happy trail. a duller auburn, maybe? she doesn't care enough to get rid of it, it's just hair. just bobby pin it to the back if you got work to do!! (blatant referencing) short length pussy prbly. thats so random but that's what my foresight tells me 🥱 who would even go into details like that? outie.

⋆' has the nicest back to ever grace your eyes. toned to just the right amount, celestial looking in golden light, finely broad shoulders, and always needs a massage. predictably tense. more the type to sit criss-cross with you behind, molding your fingertips into the ductile muscles of her neck, laxing her head back with an "ohhhh, fuck." enlongated groan and husky toned as ever as the tension releases with every grip. don't forget the coral red scratches you marked, scraping up her shoulder blades when she hits that g–spot like lightwork.

⋆' i think she opts out of wearing a bra a lot. so, with that idea grounded, perky nipples. sososooo sensitive. which is bad, cause she hates wearing bras, so any loose clothing has to be worn with a tank underneath. won't admit it, but loves when you suckle on the light pink buds. can't you just imagine, scissoring, you on top, ticklish mouth latched to her nipple, digging your hips into hers, and she's all mouth gaping, limbs twitching at every tongue flick, nearly tearing up when you tug it, blowing pushy air through puffed rosy cheeks, callighraphizing her nails indent into your scalp, pussy getting glossy as hell and pounding her hips back up in quick paced rolls, the delicious tightening of her clit numbing up every cell in her body. the next morning, her chest and legs would ache, reminiscence of last nights actions notched in her bones. also her tits would be so pretty. small, but cute. nipples hardening and poking through the fabric when you touch her. ♡

⋆' as much as ellie loves your ass, getting hers nudged and groped when she's pounding her hips into in missionary stuns her reason more than it should, skin pounding harder together, clenching up at your touch, eyelids faltering shut and mouth clumsily flobbing over curses and praises. "fufufufuhckk, purr–fect puss– mhh, s'good baby I can– shit– uhhuh, hold.. on–!" i wanna eat her ass btw. dc if looks small or flat. have you seen the curve of her back during the nighttime farm scene? argue with the clicker idk.

⋆' knees are probably roughed up from how much she's on top, chafing on the cotton fabric, abrasions and discoloration. doesn't help when she's kneeling for you either though 🤣.

⋆' calloused hands. of course. a touch so soft can feel a bit tough and bumpy, but, they probably feel soo good on your clit. added texture when she palms you with three fingers in deep. and the way her taut fingers peel your legs open, gripping the callouses deep into the plush fat of your thigh, letting go and flattening her palm on the inside of them to keep you open. so hot. probably can't even feel them when she slaps your ass though.

⋆' her tattoo.. bro.. gets so aroused watching her tatted arm flex and twine when she fingers you. she's hovering above you, bicep tucked close to her chest, extending towards your cunt and dipping three fingers in those slobbed folds and thumbing your clit. she drones little whimpers and splits her lips only to mock your variably louder moans, "'oohh, ellie', yeah? that' good? who's fingers in you right now? mhm– ellie's fuckin' fingers."

[incarnadin3]

How Obey Me Brothers realized they were in love with MC: Part Seven, Belphegor

A/N: I'm gonna post this one before Satan and break the order because I have no clue what to write for him, and I originally started this series after thinking about Belphie being in love while being in the (you guessed it) shower. I feel like his is one of the easier ones because of what happened between him and MC and then Lilith. Another reason why Beel's is also really easy to write (hint hint). Also, unlike stated, Lilith doesn't actually hate Belphie, that's a figment of his imagination, and his hate for sloth isn't factual (I think?) that's just for plot. Anyways sorry if there's mistakes, for some reason autocorrect does not want to work. Enjoy~

Belphegor: The Catnapping Seventhborn

Being youngest meant that one could get away with a lot of things, but how could one get away with guilt?

There were only two things that Belphie felt guilt for. Killing you, and being the one that was saved during the Celestial War. Each day, when he looks at himself in the mirror, he sees a demon, full of sloth, and weakness. He looks at Beel's muscles, and wishes he had them too. Whenever he looks at himself in the mirror, he only sees the self-loath. Why couldn't he have had been stronger? If only he was strong enough to save himself during the war, then Beel wouldn't have had to choose between him and Lilith. Hell, he could have saved her. Now, her shadow stands behind him in the mirror, a look of pure hatred on her face.

One might look at Belphie and think, "Man, that's a demon who loves sleep". But no, Belphie hated his sin. It reminded him of his failure to be strong enough to save Lilith and himself.

He hated sleeping. Sure, his powers allowed him to control dreams, but what if his own powers want him to remind him of all his lacking qualities.

One doesn't think much of sleeping positions, and certainly no one batted an eye to Belphie sleeping. Not even his own twin knew when Belphie went into a nightmare. All he wished was that someone could shake him awake, hug him, and take care of him. But no-one noticed the signs that he needed comfort.

Belphie's sleeping positions went as such:

Splayed out - he was in a cozy dream, usually including you as a side character along with his brothers

Big spooning his pillow - in a dream with you (often times a date or a wet dream)

Little spooning his pillow - comfort dream where you reassures him that you didn't have him for killing you

And lastly, curled up - dream of the moment where Lilith died or you dying in Mammon's arms

No one, not even his twin knew that he still had these dreams, or what each position meant. He didn't think you even cared as long as you slept next to him. But today he got proven wrong.

Today was just like any other Saturday morning, full of chaos. On one had, Mammon was microwaving his frozen credit card, Goldie, and on the other, Lucifer was running around yelling, after a certain someone mixed bleach into his shampoo, making him look like a splitting image of his son/brother, Satan. Tired of the chaos, Belphie decided to steal a couple bites before slinking away back to his room, making sure to close his door tightly and hide the empty bleach bottle in case Lucifer and Satan joined forced in finding the culprit and burn down the HoL. Sinking into his bed, sleep took him within

The dream started like no other, Belphie big spooning his pillow as he dreamt of dragging you with him into the attic for a romantic date. But that's when things took a turn.

Belphie curled tighter as in his dream the two of you walked into the attic to see blood staining the wall. As Belphie reached for you in the dream, his hand touched a cold one. As he turned, he saw you, floating like a ghost, pale white, still in the clothes you died in, dried blood on your skin as you stared at him, and said in a gravelly voice, "You!"

"You killed me! I hate you!"

Belphie curled into a ball as he reached for you once again in the dream, as your hair fell into your face, (sorry to my bald MCs) obscuring your face from view.

As he reached out to push the hair away, to his horror, instead of your face, Lilith's angelic face greeted him, smiling, as your, or rather her body began to glow. Her smile turned sharper, as she reached into a hidden pocket in her angelic dress, and pulled out a sharp knife made of diamonds.

Belphie's face paled as he curled into the tightest ball ever, trembling as Lilith raised the knife and screamed.

"First you cause my death and then you kill my descendant?! I'll kill you!"

As the knife shot towards his chest, he snapped out of the dream, sweating as he gasped for air, his entire frame being shook by someone. He turned to see you, a concerned smile on your face as you wipe away his sweat, hugging him tightly and rocking him back and forth.

He doesn't know what takes him over at that moment, but he crumples into the embrace, his usual aloof personality being thrown out of the window.

"Shh its ok. I forgive you. And so does Lilith."

"H-huh? How'd you know I was dreaming of that?"

"I could tell by the way you were sleeping."

Never in his centuries of existence had anyone bothered to take notice of how he slept and correlate it with his dreams. Hell, it was a fucking milestone if someone even bothered to ask how he slept. But for you to tell what his dreams were about without him telling you, and comforting him? He felt like an angel all over again.

As the two of you laid down, him being big spooned by you, he relaxed, never once dreaming of Lilith and you dying ever again.

Guilt is often a crippling thing, and in the human world, it can even end lives. Belphie didn't go as far as that, but with you around, his brothers were shocked to see a smile on his face.

[violetjedisylveon]

Okay one random idea I have that Macaque wanting you know play prank at Wukong and staff with him living in FFM "without" Wukong permission ( Macaque didnt ask but we all know Wukong allowed him to)

Only to found out Wukong is preggo! Dun dun Dunnnn!!

Wukong being Wukong of course he hide this from everyone well almost everyone. MK and Bull family know about this and secretly helping Wukong.

But here's a thing everyone who know WANT to know who's the 'father' of the child. Wukong REFUSE to tell them of anything as he is ashame of himself to even let them know. He even begged them to keep their mouth shut.

PIF: Brother... just tell me who's the father and I promise I wont be mad... I chew them alive

MK: Monkey King pls you going to be a Mama and Im about to be the uncle and I dont even know who my so call in law

Macaque: Name.

[MK and PIF (maybe Macaque) is ready to sent someone to diyuu for this]

And Macaque will go full mood finding the secret and look for the father (Or becoming the father- *cough* yeah MK and PiF won't let that happend)

Will the secret ever be spill? Will Wukong suffer from being a Mama? Will it be happy ending? 🤔👀

well I'm writing it so probably yes happy ending

Imagine being Macaque tho, you go to your ex's house to play a prank and then find out he's pregnant and been pregnant for who knows how long?

The funniest way this could go is that Wukong figured out how to do parthenogenesis on accident and is embarrassed about it, but let's have some more fun with it, shall we?😈

Depending on how long Wukong's been pregnant, there are a few options.

The worst one is that while Macaque was possessed by LBD, she made him SA Wukong and he doesn't know because he doesn't remember doing it.

So Wukong has extra reason to not want to tell anyone because 1, Macaque did it and they might get mad at him, and 2, Macaque was forced to assault him by a being who had complete control over his body and has no memory of ever doing it.

Wukong figures finding out your body was puppeted into assaulting your ex is gonna be fairly traumatic, it sure as hell was traumatic for him to experience.

So that's a fun little bomb to drop on everyone, but they'll find out anyway when the cub is born with either ears shaped like Macaque's or multiple ears, so he really doesn't have the time to figure out how to tell them.

It's also really hard because Macaque is doing what all the other monkeys are doing to help him cause monkey brain says "help pregnant troop member", and he's the sire of the cub and should be doing more involved things so Wukong's monkey brain is getting mad at him because he's not doing the mate things he should be doing!

One way or another, the truth of that gets spilled, and it's not fun for anyone involved, everyone is really mad at Macaque for being the sire and acting like he has no idea what was going on, when he genuinely doesn't, then once Wukong explains, everyone is super mad at LBD for pulling that shitty move.

Macaque is disgusted with the situation, and offers to get the fetus deletus water for Wukong.

Do they keep the baby, do they not? It's up to interpretation.

There's actually a fic with the premise of LBD makes Macaque assault Wukong only only Macaque does know and is forced to watch as his body is used, but it gets very explicit

Alternatively, Macaque uses his ears to hear the past and find out who did this and if it was consensual, if so he'll drag the deadbeat to face the family, if not, find the asshole and kill them.

Or celestial monkeys can do delayed implantation and this is a fertilized egg from way back before the brotherhood stuff happened that's just been hanging around for two thousand+ years, and either the egg decided to implant itself or Wukong accidentally triggered it, and is again, embarrassed about it because he had no idea he could do that.

I like this one most cause it's silly. So it's the one I'll be going with.

Once he, and Macaque, get over the whole "we had sex two thousand+ years ago and conceived something that decided to be born now", it's a pretty chill time.

So no one can mess with Wukong now cause he's got the DBK fam, MK, and Macaque all protecting him until the baby is born.

The babies (whoops it's twins, Rumble and Savage) are born after the big battle in season 4, like immediately because of the stress of the situation and they decide "aight it's go time", so they get like, five minutes to calm down from the craziness before the contractions start.

Season 5 gets to have little monkey babies making things more complicated.

It's very awkward when the monkeys are dragged to the underworld and the ten kings + Li Jing find out they had babies, and the monkey dads are mad because they woke their babies up and it'll take forever to get them back down for the night. Nezha did not see the point in telling his dad the monkeys reproduced.

Monkey dads are extra angry at the celestial realm because their babies are being threatened and so Macaque doesn't get shelved for half the season he drops the whole truck through a shadow portal and joins the fun.

[natimiles]

Midnight Kiss (Levi x reader)

Summary: You just want some alone time with your favorite and show him a human tradition for New Year’s Eve.

Words: 2647

Tags: fluffy; romance; first kisses; best friends; friends to lovers; anxious and shy Levi ftw; no pronouns for reader.

Notes: this was queued for my midnight. Happy New Year! May this year bring you happiness and may you have lots of fun with your otome husbands in 2024 too!

The castle sure was lively tonight, with a huge buffet featuring demon, celestial, and human foods and drinks. Demons from all over Devildom were dancing and chatting, and loud music was blasting from the speakers. As ironic as it sounded, this was a living hell for Leviathan.

Party and Levi were two words that didn’t mingle. His social battery was already low. Seated at a table in the corner, his tie was disheveled in an attempt to help him breathe better, and he looked tired. If he could, he’d just leave and go back to the comfort of his bedroom. But he couldn’t, or Lucifer would kill him. Besides, he knew you liked parties, so he was making an effort — he also couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you with his brothers.

Ah, his brothers. Every time Levi saw you walking his way, he felt so happy, but the joy was short-lived. They would always find a way to intercept you, dragging you across the ballroom, dancing and chatting happily. His jealousy soared, and he knew you could feel it through your pact mark because you’d look at him from across the room and give him the sweetest smile. His jealousy would heighten, and he’d pout, aware that everyone around also saw you smiling like that, even though it was aimed directly at him.

He sighed and looked back down at his video game. At least he could try to distract himself with something he liked. Keyword: try. It was too loud, and he stopped every other minute to scan the crowd, attempting to find you, only to discover you were with someone. The last time he checked, it was Simeon who had his arms around your frame, a confident smile on his face while he elegantly led you through the dance — and there was the vicious cycle again.

Levi looked up, expecting to see you still in the arms of another man. He frowned when he noticed you weren’t with Simeon anymore. Scanning the room, searching for everyone he knew you could be with, there was no sign of you. He panicked a little, realizing you weren’t anywhere he could see. He was about to stand up to run around the whole castle to search for you if he needed to, when his DDD started to go off.

“Heeeey, Levi!” Your voice sounded on the other side of the call. “Are you still sulking in the corner?”

“Wha- I’m not sulking!” he protested.

“Yeah, sure,” you snorted.

“Hmph, where are you?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but your giggles revealed he didn’t succeed.

“In one of the guest rooms, the last one on the left side.”

“Huh? Why?”

“I had to run and hide to have some privacy.”

“Oh, um… Sorry, should I hang up?”

“Levi, I’m the one who called you!” You laughed.

“Ah! R-right.” He bit his lip in embarrassment.

Your laugh died down, but your tone remained amused. “So should I summon you, or are you gonna come meet me on your own?”

“What?” He asked bewildered.

“Come meet me, Levi! What do you think I called you for?” You chuckled. “Just come on! If you don’t come now, I swear I’ll summon you!”

“No!” He yelped. He could almost see you squinting your eyes and pointing your finger at him, with that mischievous smile of yours. “I-I’m going!” He scrambled to his feet and started to walk, being as stealthy as he could while crossing the ballroom.

“Hurry, hurry!” You sounded excited on the other side.

“I hope no one saw me,” he muttered under his breath while glancing back. He walked through the corridors for a few minutes, as you silently waited on the other side of the call. “Last one on the left, right?”

“Yes! Are you almost here?”

He hummed and strode a little faster until he stopped in front of the door. “MC?”

“It’s open!” You replied with a cheery tone.

He took a deep breath, already feeling his nerves getting the best of him just from thinking about staying alone in the same room as you. He hoped he wouldn’t do anything stupid and ruin your friendship.

“H-hi…” he stammered when he opened the door, peeking inside the room and finding you sprawled across the king-sized bed. Oh, he was already sweating.

“Hi!” You beamed at him. “Wait, we don’t need this anymore,” you giggled and turned off your DDD, placing it on the nightstand. Propping yourself on your elbows, you looked at the blushing demon, still frozen in the doorway. Raising your eyebrow, you shot him a crooked smile. “Are you just gonna stay there?” He shook his head and closed the door. “Lock it, please.”

He did as you told him and looked back at you. You shimmied to the side and patted the spot beside you, inviting him to lie down. He blinked a few times and took a hesitant step towards you. He was sweating even more now. Could you see him sweating? He hoped not.

He quietly sat down and let his body flop backward, staring at the ceiling. You shifted around and lay on your side, gazing intently at him.

“I couldn’t even spend a few minutes with my bestie down there,” you complained in a low voice.

“Y-yeah…” He cleared his throat.

“I wanted to dance at least once with you, but your brothers wouldn’t let me!” You huffed. “Don’t get me wrong, I love you all…” You trailed off, and he felt his body twitch. Again, he knew you felt his pact mark and his jealousy rising. You chuckled and poked his cheek to make him look at you. “But I wanted to spend more time with you.”

He finally glanced at you, his whole face burning red. He bit his lip nervously, and your gaze followed the motion for a second before looking back into his beautiful sunset eyes. You gave him a smile and flopped down on your back again, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. A few moments of silence enveloped the two of you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You were accustomed to being quiet and just enjoying each other’s company or watching the other play something — mostly you watching him play, actually.

“I wanted to be with you when it strikes midnight,” you confessed.

“H-huh? Why?” He turned to look at you, only now noticing your eyes were closed.

He held his breath and stared intently at your face. You were so beautiful; he could look at you for the rest of his life and still be in awe. And you looked so peaceful, so calm, and so unguarded… did you have all this trust around his brothers too? Well, of course, you did, but… was it so intense? He noticed that you looked even more relaxed when it was just the two of you. He attributed it to the time you spent together playing games and watching your favorite shows; after all, you were his best friend, his Henry.

“You’re my bestie!” You opened your eyes and saw him staring at you. He quickly averted his gaze, and you smiled. “I love being with you. You’re my favorite.”

“A-ah, right. And you, um, you’re my favorite human.” He stuttered but managed to express some of his feelings. He wasn’t lying, but his feelings ran much deeper. He just didn’t want to ruin the awesome friendship you two had by making things awkward.

“Human?” You questioned loudly.

“What?” He looked taken aback. “What’s wrong?”

“Am I only your favorite human? Do you have a favorite demon and a favorite angel that I don’t know?” You pouted.

“N-no, it’s just…” He sat up and looked at your upset face. He needed to fix it. “You said I’m your favorite demon, then I said you’re my favorite human.”

“I didn’t say you’re my favorite demon. I said you’re my favorite. And that’s it.” You gazed intently into his eyes, and he felt his heart stop and beat faster at the same time. Was that even possible? Was he dying? Maybe he was already dead, and that’s why he was having such a nice time alone with you.

He opened his mouth; he should say something. He didn’t know if he would be able to form a coherent sentence. Why was life so hard on him? It was unfair how all his brothers could tell you about their feelings and make you smile, while he had trouble expressing himself. It would be so much easier if this were like when he needed to command his soldiers… He had so much more confidence when he had to be an Admiral, but for some reason, he couldn’t project that Leviathan into his relationship with you.

You were still waiting for him to say something, and he was starting to panic. Lucky for him, your alarm suddenly went off.

“Oh, it’s almost midnight!” You sat up with a huge smile, turning the alarm off. “I set it so we could go to the balcony to see the fireworks!” You fumbled to your feet and ran. “Come, Levi!” You yelled, already outside.

He blinked a few times and got up, following you. You were leaning against the rail, propping your elbows and resting your head on your hands, looking expectantly at the always dark sky. He walked to your side, gazing at the sky and then at you.

“MC…” He called sheepishly. You hummed and turned your head to look at him, still resting it on your hands. “You are. My favorite, you know…” He pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, trying to suppress the blush rising on his cheeks.

You giggled. “I know. You’re my Lord of Shadows.” You winked, and he turned quickly to look at the sky.

“And you’re my Henry,” he muttered under his breath. If you weren’t already used to hearing his voice so low, you’d probably miss what he said.

You stared at him for a few moments, biting your lip nervously. You loved Levi more than a friend should, and you had wanted to do something about it for so long. You just hoped it wouldn’t make things awkward.

“You know, Levi,” you whispered, mustering the courage. You turned your body to face him and gripped the sleeve of his suit, asking for his attention.

“What?” He asked and looked at you from the corner of his eye.

“There’s a… tradition in the human world. For the New Year.”

“Hm? What is it?” He asked curiously, turning to face you too.

“When the clock strikes midnight and the fireworks start, we kiss our favorite.”

“Y-you what?” He yelled, his eyes widening and his hand gripping the rail tightly.

“We don’t need to if you don’t want to!” You hurriedly explained, seeing the shock on his face. “I just… I just…” You bit your lip to prevent it from trembling and tightened the grip on his suit. “I just wanted to do it with you,” you blurted out.

“A-are you sure you wanna do this… with me?”

“Yes, Levi!” 

“Is this some kind of joke?” His tone darkened, just as his cheeks got an even redder shade. You knew he wasn’t mad at you; it was just his low self-esteem kicking in. “I won’t forgive you if you play with me like this!”

“What? No!” You smiled. “I really wanna do this with you. Actually, I only wanna do this because it’s you, Levi.”

As if on cue, a loud ‘boom’ echoed in the sky, followed by a series of colorful fireworks. You could faintly hear the demons attending the party screaming and singing, but nothing seemed louder than your heart hammering against your ribs.

Levi still stared intently into your eyes; his thoughts were running wild, and every fiber in his body said you could be pranking him, that you’d laugh at him with his brothers later at how stupid and naive he was. But a tiny part of him still could see the way you were expectantly looking at him, waiting anxiously for him to say something and hoping he’d say yes.

“We can, um, do… this…” He managed to say something, loud enough for you to hear.

You took one step closer to him, still holding onto his sleeve, using it as an anchor. Your other hand laced around his tie, and you pushed him to your eye level, smiling at how lost and sweet he looked right now. You gave him a few seconds to back out and closed the gap between your lips. Levi tensed but forced himself to calm down and relax. His mind screamed, ‘this is real, this is real, this is real’, and he thought he’d go crazy before even kissing you properly.

Your tongue prodded into his mouth, asking to deepen the kiss, and that’s when he realized this was indeed real, and he should probably be doing something else besides being frozen. Your hands slid up and wrapped around his neck in a hug, and he uncertainly placed one hand on your nape and the other on your hips, adjusting your body against his. A satisfied and relieved sigh left him when he finally let himself enjoy the moment.

It was sweet, embarrassing, tender, and shy, like you always thought a kiss with Levi would be. His hands still trembled a little when he broke the kiss to look at you. Your face shone with the lights from the fireworks, your lips slightly agape and glistening, your cheeks flushed, and your eyes… his breath hitched in his throat when he looked at your eyes and the affectionate way you stared right into his.

“Oh, shit…” He mumbled without thinking. You raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, making the demon stutter his words. “N-not in a bad way! I mean… I-I mean…”

You chuckled and pecked his lips to ease him out of his panic. “You know I can feel your jealousy through your pact mark, right?” He nodded. “And did you know I can discern the different ways you’re jealous?”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“When your envy kicks in because someone got a better item in our games, or when you see someone able to do something you wanted to… Or even when you see me with your brothers. It’s all different, and I can tell.”

“Wha- You can?” His eyes widened, and you nodded. “So, um… So you… You know…”

“I love you too, Levi,” you whispered. He opened his mouth to say something, but you knew him well enough to anticipate what he was going to say and cut him off shortly. “More than a friend. Yes, I’m sure. Yes, really sure. Yes, I wanna date you.”

“Very funny,” he pouted. “I wasn’t gonna ask about the date part.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna date me?” You feigned offense. “You just wanted to have your way and leave me?”

“Ah, n-no, no! That’s not what I meant! I just, you know, didn’t think you’d think about it…”

“Well, I do and a lot. But we don’t need to talk about it now, hm?”

“Okay…” He smiled sheepishly. You gazed into each other's eyes for a minute, basking in the happy and loving atmosphere. “Can I kiss you again?” He whispered.

“Please do!”

Your excitement was probably catchy because Levi found himself with a giddiness that wasn’t usually his. It was probably the way you kissed him, cradling his face like the most precious thing in your life. And he probably was. It was a New Year, and he was about to learn some new things, like how to accept your love and make his brain understand that he was worthy.

He had a feeling he’d have lots of New Years ahead to learn even more with you.

He couldn’t wait.

Masterlists

[libby-for-life]

-lean in…-Psst! Psst!!

Sooooooo… I found this little ask box here… so… I was wondering, if ya had the time… maybe something like Adam wanting to run around in hell in his full dragon form without Sera bugging him. And maybe…he finds a pretty little red dragon on one of these days out. At first he’s trying to shake it off, since dragons were something Lucifer made but heaven disapproved of. -Lucifer and Adam would gossip and whine about the all the cool stuff that didn’t make it into the garden- Taking this as a dumb animal. But is persuaded/ bullied into playing with it. Having no idea it’s Lucifer just wanting to play with his friend again. -Lucifer tries not to speak during this time-

Hehehehehehe. I like this! @inubaki

Adam let out a heavy, exasperated sigh as he wearily rested his cheek on the palm of his hand. The lush Heaven sunlight filtered through the window, casting long, meandering shadows across the conference room table. The meeting had stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and yet, they seemed no closer to reaching any sort of consensus. Frustration simmered beneath the surface as everyone continued to talk in circles, their words blending in a sea of indecision. Adam couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of boredom and restlessness that hung heavily in the air. Another sigh escaped his lips as he longed for this seemingly never-ending cycle of discussion to come to an end.

Adam felt a deep and unmistakable yearning that seemed to arise from the depths of his aging soul - an insatiable longing to stretch out and unleash his wings. However, these wings were not the ethereal golden and benevolent ones that he effortlessly took flight with. They were the formidable and awe-inspiring dragon wings that had been strictly forbidden by Sera ever since his arrival. Upon his initial appearance in the celestial realm of Heaven, his angelic form was a dragon, an unexpected and striking transformation that had unsettled Sera and the entire host of angels.

Sera had taken Adam aside before anyone could take a good look at him. He was dragged to a secluded room and Adam sat, or tried to since his form was massive, through the Seraphim's explanation of how his holy form was inherently evil. "Lucifer had the idea of dragons. We mustn't let anyone know of this form you came here with. It will cause a panic, Adam. Heaven can't ever know."

Adam was filled with a sense of dread as a horrible feeling began to creep in. The realization that his own angelic form could be considered evil filled him with frustration and confusion. He couldn't understand how this could be possible, especially since he had been taught that angelic forms were meant to be perfect. His mounting frustration was further compounded by the presence of Lucifer, who seemed to be once again casting a shadow over his existence. "But...I didn't do anything wrong. You've told me that angelic forms are perfect. So why—" Adam's protest was abruptly cut off as the Seraphim fixed him with a stern glare. "Adam," the Seraphim said sharply, "Are you questioning Heaven itself?"

Adam's face drained of color as the Seraphim appeared to tower over him, her imposing figure casting a chilling shadow over him despite Adam being a massive dragon. "No, Sera! I swear, I don't want to be evil..." he stammered, his voice wavering with fear. Sera tilted her head, studying him intently before straightening up with an air of authority. "It may be due to something you did in your life on Earth. Remember, Heaven's judgment is always just. Keep that in mind."

Adam nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his celestial secret. Later, Sera had taught him to conceal his dragon form and assume a more mundane guise that adhered to Heaven's expectations. However, deep within, his divine essence longed for the unfettered liberation of spreading his radiant wings and soaring through the boundless sky, embracing his true nature without inhibition. Unable to suppress this longing any longer, Adam seized an opportune moment and stealthily ventured into the realm of Hell, seeking an escape from the constraints of his heavenly facade.

Adam had been doing that for years now. He would sneak into Hell to stretch his true form out before returning to Heaven to hide his angelic form away to something less jarring. So far, no one has figured out what he has been doing. Now, if only he could get out of this horrible meeting.

An hour later, Adam's chance to leave presented itself. The lengthy meeting finally came to a close, and with its end, everyone scattered to attend to their respective tasks. Audible relief escaped Adam as he groaned, "Finally..." He wearily rose from his seat and exited the room. No one called out to detain him. Exhausted, Adam made his way back to his modest apartment, collapsing onto his couch upon arrival and taking off his helmet. He found solace in the comfort of finally being able to leave the demands of the day behind.

As soon as Adam had thought about where he would be in Hell he would go, the Wrath ring seemed particularly good this time of year near the Fall, and portal there. He decided on a forest that he liked and had already become familiar with it.

He lazily opened a portal and stepped through, quickly shutting it so no one would see the angelic light. Honestly, Adam wasn't too worried. He picked this forest because it was in the middle of nowhere. All the freedom he could want. Smiling, he let his true angelic form out, and he soon was a large gold dragon with viscous-looking teeth. Bits of earthy tones were mixed into his scales.

Adam spread his powerful wings and took to the skies. The wind rushed beneath him, lifting him higher as he soared above the forest canopy. Below, the trees danced in the gentle breeze, their red leaves whispering secrets of the demon creatures below. Adam loved this feeling of freedom, the exhilaration of flight as he surveyed Hell's domain.

As he glided through the air, a flicker of movement caught his eye. Curious, Adam descended toward the source—a medium-sized red and white-winged dragon looking up at him. Adam sneered at the animal, Sera's words echoing in his mind, and turned away to fly off. This was a Hellborn. Attacking it was something he shouldn't be doing since it could jeopardize the Heaven and Hell treaty.

He was not prepared for what happened next.

The dragon pounced on his back and Adam screeched out, "What the hell?!" As he stumbled to the ground. Adam opened gold furious eyes, glaring at the dumb animal. If animals could look smug, that thing would certainly would be.

"Get off!" Adam tried bucking him off, his wings flapping to get the surprisingly heavy animal off his back. The stupid dragon seemed to have taken this as a sign for play because soon they were tumbling on the ground, trying to pin each other down. As they fought, Adam noticed that the thing had six eyes. Six...familiar-looking eyes that Adam couldn't quite place.

Adam huffed and snapped at the thing. He clutched him around the middle with his massive jaws and swung him around into a tree. The thing bounced and hit his head on a branch. Adam thought that would be the end and he could finally leave this forest. Find somewhere else to spread his wings.

He was about to take off when a strangled cry made him stop. Adam didn't know why he stopped but he did turn around when he heard the same screech. The dragon had scratches all over his face, black blood seeping out as he tried to stop the pain.

Adam sighed. Was he seriously going to do this? The much larger dragon stomped back to the smaller dragon and huffed. "You started this. Shouldn't have fought me." The dragon only whined pathetically. Adam growled and huffed but brought the dragon closer. "Just...just need a little here..."

The dragon stopped whining when Adam healed him. "There. Now stop whining...you're really warm." Adam said absent-mindedly. He sniffed the dragon but was not expecting the little guy to crawl up his back again and curl around his neck.

Adam would have fought it. He should have torn that thing to shreds and left it to die for trying to mess with Adam. Instead, he let out a loud purr that rang through the air and the surrounding forest.

"Get...off," Adam said in between his purring but the little dragon seemed to produce more heat, making Adam tired. When was the last time he was this warm? Heaven was always on the cold side. He wanted this warmth and Adam's angelic dragon was practically taking the wheel now.

"Fine. Just...a few hours..." Adam grumbled before he fell asleep, surrounded by that warmth. The little dragon chuckled once he knew that Adam was asleep.

"Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? My, what a pretty form you have!" He whispered, careful not to stop his warm temperature as Adam slept. Claws glided over sensitive scales. Lucifer had been posing as a dragon and it was just lucky timing that Adam stumbled onto him.

Now, Lucifer had always known that Adam's angelic form he presented whenever they met wasn't real. He had no idea why the man would hide something like that, but in all honesty, Lucifer didn't care. Now, he can see why.

Dragons were something he and Lucifer had discussed for hours. It was one of the many things that never made it into Eden. Adam, seeing how sad Lucifer was at yet another idea being rejected, started to name animals after the dragon. Bearded Dragon, Komodo Dragon, and a few others.

Lucifer was touched, and still was, that Adam would do all that to keep his idea alive. But wasn't this adorable? Adam's angelic body was that of a dragon. A magnificent one at that.

Adam must be coming down here so Heaven wouldn't see him as a dragon. Lucifer wasn't a fool. A form like this would have the Higher Choir in a panic. Someone would have to have convinced Adam to hide it. Eventually, Adam would have gone stir crazy and the rest was history.

"This is going to be a lot of fun...." It had been a while since Lucifer had someone to play with.

[actual-changeling]

"Well, that went down like a lead balloon."

Crowley did not sneak up on him this time, it was more of an ungraceful drag or stumble with one hand pressed against the still-bleeding cut on his stomach. Aziraphale turns his head to look at him, his eyes lingering on the soot and bruises smeared across his skin, but stays silent when Crowley shakes his head exactly once.

Don't.

"It did, rather," he says instead, as the space around them empties slowly but surely. Stopping the second coming had been exactly like the first apocalypse and nothing like it at the same time. They're both a bit singed, for starters.

"You think we overreacted? Second offence and all."

Crowley tentatively lifts his hand, grimacing when blood-soaked fabric sticks to his palm and tugs on the wound. It would barely require a miracle to heal it, but he is currently quite comfortable in the limbo of not knowing whether the destruction of heaven and hell erased his celestial powers or not.

"Someone had to teach them the real difference between good and evil," Aziraphale continues lightly, leaning into the twisted mirror of their first conversation on the walls of Eden.

"I'm pretty sure they regret sending me up here to 'cause trouble' by now."

Trying and failing to sound humorous, Crowley bites back a groan. Fatigue washes over him wave after deadly wave, and he considers simply allowing himself to fall to the concrete floor when a hesitant arm slides around his waist and pulls him closer, conscious of his injuries.

Crowley freezes for a second before leaning into it, processing the sudden influx of touch and heat as one big, blurry embrace, and it is such a welcome contrast to the painful reality scratching at his bones that his eyes flutter shut. Aziraphale holds him both gently and as if he is never going to let go of him again; unsurprisingly, he finds he doesn't mind that at all.

They stand in amicable silence, swaying slightly without really meaning to, and although both of them want to go home, they cannot imagine a place that would fit that description better than each other's presence.

"You did the right thing," Aziraphale eventually says, and Crowley forces himself to blink up at him, blue meeting gold meeting love.

"With the apple, and trying to make me see the truth, and with not coming to heaven with me. I'm sorry I caused you so much pain." His voice breaks at the end, trailing off into an ocean of unspoken confessions and feelings, but Crowley is pretty sure he couldn't handle more anyway, not right now.

He presses a hand against Aziraphale's cheek to tilt his head towards him, grimacing when he leaves bloody prints behind.

"Angel." It's a name, an endearment, a prayer, a decree, a question. A curse, and a plea, and a promise.

"I'm still mad," is all Crowley whispers before nudging their lips together, tasting blood, ash, and the dawn of something entirely unknown and new.

I still love you, is what lies beneath it.

For the first time in their existence, they're truly free. When it begins to rain, they tip their faces towards the sky and welcome it home.