#gentle giant with little fucker

[susivoi]

Last one I swear

-

Discord Server • Kofi

Some doodles , Edited their designs a bit, some more than others lol

I think Suns could be either Thunder or Shadow

NSH, Shadow or Wind

Pebbles and Moon are both River I think

Maybe Suns could also be Skyclan but he might break all the branches he climbs on uhm

[yandere-daydreams]

obviously the ideal way to embrace a 9 ft dragon cock is literally, with your arms and legs, while he grinds you to dust in a pile of stolen silk

a provocative thought indeed but,,, as a long-time dragon fucker, i think i must advocate for the very specific and gratifying niche of specifically Gentle Monster Fucking,,, like, there's this fifty foot tall, five hundred year old dragon with a cock to match, but despite you being a weak and inconsequential human being, they revere you so irrationally that they can't bring themself to give in entirely to the savagery of their rut and dislocate your rib cage while attempting to mate with you. just this giant, ancient creature fretting over their fragile but brazen little human as you're like 'no actually i think i've got think' and insist on seeing to your lover's needs. ofc this ultimately ends in you getting fucked into dust in a pile of gold and treasures, but there's steps to get there y'know.

[robolvrr]

medical malpractice. ‿⁠✷｡

pharma x human! gn reader.

warnings: medical play. sharp objects. temporary blindness/sensory play.

nsfw under the cut. this is a bit darker but this is pharma we are talking about here. not enough of this rat on my feed.

"are you sure ratchet isn't available?"

the cooling bulbs shine bright in your eyes and you itch the sleeves of your uniform, gaze wavering between the flawlessly polished floors and an elaborate monitor with a screen that easily dwarfed you lengthwise.

the fucker doesn't speak for an uncomfortable five seconds. you are convinced he purposefully does this just to have the pleasure of your wariness wither.

"yes, my dear. he has far more pressing matters than a simple organic check-up. i do apologize if my cycles of experience in this profession is.. lacking for your standards."

his back is all you see when your face twists, mouth slack as you struggle to seek a response.

sarcasm must be a species thing. almost every cybertronian on this ship seems to have a snippy remark.

"it's not that."

you don't know how to describe it. pharma is sardonic and precise. the crew members don't seem to have too negative of an opinion as his performance precedes his mannerisms.

when he first laid optics on you, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that itched.

he did not share the warmth of his companions. granted, it was not as if you were adored by all mechs — plenty still had their reservations of allowing such an easily harmed creature aboard on a personal journey that they could not even hope to relate to.

however, unlike the other medics, you felt trapped under his leer. vivisected no matter the layers of insulation and nylon hiding flesh that blazed under unrelenting attention.

he never strayed far from your thoughts after that introduction. you can hear his croon at night and see those genuine, icy stares when you close your eyelids to toss and turn to sleep.

he's dangerous.

no one shows to share your beliefs. you don't speak of them out of fear of alienation. he triggers your survival instincts so strongly it starts to make you angry, because he hadn't done anything to warrant the disapproval.

he's a voyeur to your discomfort. sooner or later, you learn his subtle language and realize he's pleased.

you make efforts to avoid him. it's easy, given your skills don't overlap with his duties. you're just an engineer and more than half of the technology they possess is outside your education. you forget about his stalking frame and find members that treat you nice, treat you gentle.

this very situation is nightmarish.

"distracted, little dove?"

a yelp leaves your lips. his helm is eerily close and his smug smile remains firm on his dermas. you're so alarmed you don't notice the velcro round a forearm until he clasps the straps, tight.

the iv bag is clear. you breathe shakily.

"please keep in mind i do have your best interests in consideration."

"... just get on with it, doctor."

he hums, doesn't react to the bite. his digits graze your elbow. when did he yank up your sleeve? goosebumps freckle up your skin and he pinches.

consideration. the gravity of that word sinks in the pit of your gut. too easy to miscontrue.

"i understand your.. unease. alone, far from home, far from your own kind. under the scrutiny of what you cannot predict."

the medical stretcher slowly creaks back. the rusty pop of cogs startled you. a giant light nearly hides his calm demeanor, just the shadow of himself and a halo of sterile white behind him.

the electricity sparkling in your veins runs blood hot. faint beeping climbs in measure — you assume the thumping pattern of your heartbeat is what that is.

suddenly, your mouth is coaxed open.

metal - tool and him - slide across your tongue in a practiced sweep. it clinks against your canines and molars, scraping inner cheek until you feel just shy of pink, sticky sinew shredding.

a swab is after. it isn't rough but far from tender. this is no lollipop ending appointment and you become faintly aware of a chemical stench starting to waft around your vicinity.

"healthy. teeth all accounted for. funny, how these bones work. brainstorm had spoken to me about ah, what is it called for you. cavities. fascinating, your inner workings aren't close in nature and yet it can poison you, just by chance. find that small, plump heart and send it right into failure."

this conversation tinges dreadful again. you make a protesting noise that careens into a groan before he shushes you, sifting through equipment. having him in your mouth has your jaw throb sore.

"yes, yes, i know, keep it quick. while we are on the subject of brainstorm however i want to be frank. he has assisted me in creating a method to better examine your parts. you're just so.. fragile. small. i would hate to hurt you."

".. and what exactly does that entail?", you whisper dubiously, twitching at the thought of anything from brainstorm being near you in a ten mile radius.

he laughs.

"well", you blink and he is still difficult to see with all the lights and proximity, something wet and slimy dropping in both of your eyes. you squirm with a gasp and go to rub out of nature. he stops you.

"it's difficult to explain on your terms. but it's dropped into your eyes. microscopic cameras are effortlessly mixed with the solvent. it'll adapt to the shape. almost like a thin casing. it connects to my screen aaaand.."

you can't see. confusion driving the monitor to grow louder and louder.

"you put fucking cameras in my eyes? wh— what?! i can't fucking see! does ratchet know-"

"ratchet is not here. i suggest you find your bearings before you scare yourself to death, dear."

he sounds unapologetic. you fully drift to panic and think about the crawling sensation around sclera, unsure where your imagination and reality separate.

pharma sounds distant. this very room is almost closing in and your senses heighten in natural hopes to extend your survival.

his voice is charming and thick with something you can't identify. whispers hot in your ear. a cut has been made.

"excellent, little one."

this is torture.

one by one, the pain of an incision you can't even detect when it was sliced sutured with practical movements. unwoven, stitched again. you start to huff.

thumb catches moisture. you hear a rumble and it isn't the ship engines, it's him.

"just what else can the human body do?"

your throat closes up.

"how much could you take, hm? i simply want to know. there is no... allure of a broken body. perhaps in a dream. perhaps in my fantasies."

in and out, you fade. body trembling, hair sweaty on your forehead. he is an issue you cannot solve.

"perhaps, perhaps."

------------------------

"how did the examination go?"

ratchet doesn't pull from his work. the gruffness and bitter edge you have learned to navigate and know his inquiry is made out of concern, not forced.

"i... fine, i think. i can't remember."

ratchet keeps working, though his pace has slowed.

"... mm."

[chaotic-orphan]

Heroic betrayal (ix)

Read part one here // Continued from here

THIS SERIES HAS NINE PARTS??!?! IT DOESN’T FEEL THAT LONG, MAYBE FOUR OR FIVE WOW!!!

*~*~*~*~*

Hero woke up buried under extremely heavy sheets. It felt like a net of blankets weighing down on her, like a giant warm hug of safety. The first thing she did when she woke up was nestle deeper into the warmth, letting out a light hum as she did. She was entirely too comfortable, her mind rosey and hazy, exactly how she liked it.

A heartbeat steadily under her ear, warmth radiating off her mattress. The fog in her mind turned thick, impenetrable and she wanted to be sick. The warmth around her clawed at her desperately, trying to lull her into a false sense of security.

She had bolted from the bed, backing up until she hit the wall behind her, before she properly opened her eyes. Her chest heaving with heavy breaths as she glared at the man in her bed.

Flynn peered at her with one eye open, casually throwing an arm under his head to prop himself up. “Mornin’,” he said, his voice low from sleep.

“You fucker,” Hero hissed, her mind flashing back to last night when Supervillain fixed her nose. Flynn had settled her mind for her, leaving her in his artificial weightless-haze. “You said you wouldn’t use your powers on me.”

Flynn shrugged. “I didn’t want you to suffer.”

“No, you didn’t want to see me suffer, and there’s a chasm of a difference between them,” Hero huffed, crossing her arms over the shirt she was wearing. “Then sleeping with me?”

“You never complained before,” Flynn said with a lazy, cocky grin.

“That was before I knew you were a fucking scheming bastard, who,” Hero continued, walking towards her door and opening it. “Coincidentally, has his own room in this hell house. So please, get out.”

Flynn stared at her through half-lidded eyes, two hands behind his head now. Hero hated when he did that. She hated how it exposed his muscles and somehow made him hotter. He knew it too. He knew that she liked it when he reclined like that, because she told him once after a long night.

“I’m comfortable.”

“You’re a liar.”

“I’m a comfortable liar.”

“I hate you,” Hero snapped. The cocky smile dimmed on his face, and she took a little bit of satisfaction at it. Ignoring how it pulled a little on her heartstrings too.

“I know,” he replied softly.

Hero swallowed, lingering by the door, arms folded across her chest. “Were you here all night?”

“Yes,” he said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he sat up.

“Why?”

“Because you said you didn’t want to be alone,” he answered honestly.

Hero scoffed. “No doubt from your loopy induced haze in my head.”

“Despite what you may like to believe,” Flynn said, getting to his feet. He was fully dressed in the shirt and tracksuit he was wearing last night. Decent and gentlemanly. Infuriatingly. “I can’t sway your ideas in your head. If you want me to, I can find a telepath for you to put all your blame on.”

“Oh yeah? And will you kidnap them too?” She snapped, eyes blazing.

Flynn scoffed, grabbing his socks and shoes before walking towards Hero by the door. Hero’s heart beat double-time the closer Flynn got to her, but she maintained her resolve.

That was, until Flynn stopped in the doorway beside her. She shifted her feet under his gaze, feeling his eyes travel over every pore, lingering on every feature, tracing a line down the curve of her neck.

Her breath hitched when he reached forward, a hand cupping her cheek, the heel of his palm tilted her head up. So gentle. Filled with too much everything— Flynn knew her better than anyone, knew what made her tick, what made her nervous, her fears. His touch lit a fire under her skin, but his eyes laid her naked before him, and sent shivers down her spine.

“We could make this so nice,” he whispered like the snake tempting eve in the garden, his thumb running over her bottom lip. “We could go back to the way things were. We were happy.”

How Hero ached for that to be true. How she wanted to abandon her defences, to forget the heartache at his betrayal, and run into his awaiting arms. He could make her forget everything, what he did to Sidekick, what he was doing to her. Hell, he could make her forget that she was ever a Hero and it would be so easy.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears as she swallowed a sob and covered his hand with hers. “That was before you betrayed me, and everything I thought you were.”

“Hero…”

“How can I believe anything you say? How do I know that you weren’t seducing me as some plan you concocted with your father?” She asked, breathlessly. He dropped his shoes and socks with a clatter to the floor and stepped closer to her, caging her in against the door.

His eyes implored her to trust him, to love him, to believe him. She couldn’t look at the desire in them, so she looked at his lips instead. His soft lips.

“You know what we had was real,” he murmured, his hot breath fanning her face. “Believe in us. Believe in what your heart knows to be true. I love you, Hero.”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled against his touch. She swallowed and turned her head away, pressing her hand against his chest with more restraint than she thought herself capable of.

“Please, Flynn,” she said, her voice soft like the static in the air before a thunderstorm. “Just leave me alone.”

Flynn paused, his touch faltering and for a second she thought he was going to kiss her anyways. Something heartbroken inside her that still loved him told her that he would never do something like that. That there were lines of decency even a traitor wouldn’t cross.

“Fine,” he said, dropping his hand from her face and stepping back, scooping up his discarded shoes and socks. Hero did the right thing. She knows she did the right thing, so why does it feel like something just tore a hole through her chest? “Look, I know we were friends once, maybe more than that, maybe not, but right now Hero? I’m your only friend here. Your only refuge.”

Hero felt as if she had just been slapped. “Is that a threat? Be nice to me or else?”

Flynn had the audacity to look hurt. “No, that’s not—”

“Goodbye, Flynn,” she ground out through clenched teeth, stepping away from the door and grabbing it in her hand, ready to slam it in his face.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “See you later.”

The moment he stepped out of door frame she closed the door and leaned her back against it, sliding down and hugging her knees to her chest. She let the tears fall when she was alone, unaware that on the other side of the door, Flynn was listening to her, a pained expression colouring his features.

*~*~*~*~*

Hours later a knock sounded on her door. Hero ignored it. She watched the door handle open from her bed, her back propped against the headboard, her legs stretched out, crossed over at the ankles a book with its spine broken between her fingers. She inclined her head when the door opened, expecting it to be Flynn but froze when she saw a mess of black hair.

Villain was wearing a red leather jacket, contrasting against his sharp pale features and dark hair, making him seem other worldly. He smirked when he noticed Hero’s tension, he kicked the door open with his foot, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame.

“I’ve been told to call you for dinner.”

“Like the good dog you are.”

“Woof,” Villain replied, a grin that made her skin crawl spreading across his features. “Of course, you hurt Flynn’s feelings so he’s licking his wounds in his room. You get me instead.”

“Yeah, well, I lost my appetite looking at your face.”

Shadow hands sprung from the backboard of the bed and grabbed Hero’s wrists before she realised what was happening. They squeezed, hard, until she dropped the book, shackling her in a ring of icy coldness, that yanked her arms back sharply and pressed them against the headboard. Hero didn’t even struggle and suppressed her whimpers of pain, but it must have shown on her face because Villain’s grin got wider as he stepped into her room.

“I would be nicer to me, Hero.” Villain cautioned, his fingers curling slowly into a fist in his hand, the shadows tightening more until Hero couldn’t keep her cries locked behind her teeth anymore. “We could be friends, like you and Flynn, hmm?”

“Friends don’t hurt each other,” Hero ground out, pulling against the shadows keeping her pinned. With all the effort she put behind it, it only resulted in her muscles shaking in her arms.

“Well, we’re not friends yet, and besides, it’s not hurting each other. I’m just hurting you.”

Hero looked away from Villain, staring pointedly at the wall to her right just to piss him off. Who did he think he was? Another cold hand stroked a finger along her jaw. Hero shivered at the touch, but refused to look at Villain. That’s when she heard footsteps round her bed until she was staring at worn, red leather in front of her.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” Villain said, crouching down so he was eye-level with the stubborn Hero. He tilted his head with a smile. “Hmm? You’re stuck here, y’know. Unless you grow a spine and want to kill your friend, in which case, well, you’d belong here.”

“Let me go,” Hero snapped, pulling against the shadows. Villain let out a dark, breathy laugh, standing again as he shook his head. His hand shot out, as cold as his shadows and pinched her chin between his fingers tilting her head up sharply.

“The sooner you learn your place here the better, I mean,” Villain said, sucking in a breath as if it hurt. “Upsetting Flynn? The only person here on your side? Not a smart move, not one I would make. Or Supervillain if he were in your shoes. I mean, aren’t you supposed to be smart? Isn’t that your whole thing? Cause god knows you’re not strong.”

Hero’s lips curled back into a snarl and she shot her leg out. Shadows caught her ankle before it made contact and yanked her down the bed, but the hold on her wrists didn’t budge and so her body was stretched taut, pulled in two directions.

Villain released his grip on her chin when his shadows caught her foot and now he just stood back as she cried out and tried to gain purchase on the bed with her other leg for support.

“You know, it’s not nice to kick people.”

“Get off of me!”

“I’m not on you, Hero. Why? Do you want me to be?” Hero’s breath caught in her throat at the very thinly layered threat in Villain’s voice, and the sick fuck seemed to feed off her panic. “Relax Hero, I’m not that kind of Villain. I won’t touch you until you beg for it.”

His words sent shivers down her spine, and when the shadow on her ankle dissolved Hero quickly pulled it into her chest, retreating up her bed back to where her hands were pinned, not taking her eyes off him for a second.

Villain hummed, then turned and walked towards the door. He lifted his hand and clicked his fingers without looking at her. The shadows dissipated, leaving her wrists red raw but otherwise unharmed. “Come along, Hero. Like I said. Dinner’s ready.”

On the way downstairs, Villain rapped on Flynn’s door and yelled: “grubs up.” Hero didn’t take her glare off of Villain’s back the whole way down her U-shaped stairs to the second floor. It wouldn’t matter either way considering all the shadows he could utilise to torture her, and there was no way she could keep eyes everywhere.

Though when Flynn’s door opened, she paused on the last step of her stairs, watching him as he walked out of his room and shut the door. He didn’t look at her as he followed Villain down the stairs. He may as well have slapped her in the face. Actually, she’d rather he would have slapped her, or looked at her, or even paused when he saw her in the corner of his eye. But he continued through the landing and to the stairs like she wasn’t even there, and Hero swore her heart broke inside her chest all over again.

She followed the brothers down to the dining room in silence. Flynn and Villain were already sitting down at the Supervillain’s side of the table, both on either side of where Supervillain sat. Hero stared at the chair beside Flynn, something urging her to sit beside him, but instead she sat at other opposite head of the table. Yanking her chair out and sitting down.

Why should she be the one who’s suffering or feeling guilty? Flynn should be the one feeling guilty. It was his fault she was here. His fault that she was on Supervillain’s radar in the first place. His fault that Sidekick is in the hospital.

Villain’s cunning eyes went between the pair. “Trouble in paradise, lovebirds?”

“Oh shut up, Vil,” Flynn snapped.

Hero leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her as if she was about to conduct a meeting. She smiled sweetly at Villain, sickeningly sweet. “Yes. No trouble at all, Vil. I wouldn’t touch a villain with a ten foot pole if I could help it, but considering I’m on house arrest with a family of villains, I’ve had to make some concessions.”

Flynn shot her a scathing look, his cocky smirk sliding onto his face. “That’s not what you said when you were cuddling me this morning.”

Villain’s entire face lit up, eyes going between the pair, enjoying the two of them silently fuming at each other. “Damn. You could cut the tension with a knife. Get a room, guys.”

Supervillain stepped through the doors that joined the kitchen to the dining room with two steaming plates. “Dinner’s ready!” He exclaimed happily. Noticing the atmosphere, he raised his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“A lover’s tiff,” Villain answered at the same time that Hero and Flynn bit out: “nothing.”

Supervillain hummed, walking down to Hero and sliding a plate in front of her. It smelled divine, like last time, and Hero’s stomach grumbled at the sight. Two steaks of salmon and green beans and cauliflower. “For your strength,” Supervillain beamed at her, then walked to Villain and served him next.

He disappeared through the doors again. Villain smiled at Flynn. “I got mine first, I’m the favourite.”

“You wish,” Flynn said, folding his arms across his chest. “He serves me last because hr wants to make sure my dinner is still hot.”

Supervillain appeared again and sat at the table beside Flynn, handing him his plate too. “Ah. Bon Appétit.”

They ate in relative silence, Villain or Flynn would say something and they’d start a conversation that would ebb and flow while Hero ate quietly, trying her best not to scoff the whole plate down in seconds, but she didn’t have breakfast or lunch today, so she was starving.

“How’s the nose, Hero?” Supervillain asked.

“It’s fine,” Hero replied coldly, then stiffened, thinking better of disrespecting him and added a quiet, “thank you.”

“Good. Glad to hear it. I actually got you some papers today.”

Hero raised her brows. “Oh.”

“To keep you up on the news,” Supervillain told her, his smile reminiscent of his son’s, though maybe a bit more civil, but no less shark-like and menacing. “Don’t want you completely disconnected from the world.”

Hero pushed at the remains of her dinner with her fork, tightening her grip on the utensil. “You just want to torture me as much as possible, is that it?”

“Torture you? What would be the point? I have you immobilised and incapacitated. I don’t need to torture you any further. I just thought you’d like to know—”

“How the world’s doing outside my fucking prison?” She demanded, raising her gaze to meet Supervillain’s. Supervillain’s smile remained on his face and she wanted nothing more than to climb over the table and slap it off. “No thanks.”

“Things can be pleasant for you here, Hero.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.”

Supervillain tilted his head to the side, steepled his fingers in front of his face. “You didn’t let me finish, Hero. Things can be pleasant for you here, Hero, or—”

Hero felt the cold hands of Villain’s power grab her wrists again and yank them behind the back of her chair, her fork clattering along the floor of the dining room. “We can make it very, very difficult for you if you’d prefer. Which would you rather, now that you’ve tasted the cell and the room?”

“I’d rather you let me go, you fucking dick!” She hissed, trying to yank her hands free, but each time she got an inch her hands were clamped down tighter, almost dragging her over the chair, but she planted her feet on the ground, resolute, and glared at the man. “Stop threatening my friends and give yourself up to the proper authorities while you’re at it! That’s what I’d prefer over this playing house bullshit!”

“Hero,” Flynn cautioned. Hero scoffed. She would have threw her arms up if she could, bordering on hysterical.

“Now you deign to talk to me?” She cried. “Save it!”

She turned her gaze, crueller now, back to Supervillain, adopting a false sense of innocence. “I mean, this isn’t really a proper family, is it? Where’s the mother figure after all?”

Hero only got the briefest of seconds to enjoy Supervillain’s easy smiling expression dipping, turning to cold fury before a shadowed hand grabbed her throat, followed by Villain who grabbed her where the shadow hand did, and slammed her back against the wall.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethed. “You really don’t know when to shut up, do you?”

Hero spit at him in reply, cracking a smile despite her face that was steadily changing from red to purple at her oxygen being cut off. It wasn’t a proper glob, more like a spray of saliva, even her fucking spit was limp at her circumstances.

“Villain,” Supervillain said as Hero gasped on air that she wasn’t getting. Hero could barely hear him when he spoke again, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she clung desperately to air. She fell to the ground deadweight, head smacking off the floor but she barely noticed it as she gasped in oxygen like a fish being thrown back into a river.

Her throat screamed at the abuse, screamed at her to stop fucking tempting fate and cruelty of the family of villains but she couldn’t bring herself to care if they killed her or not. It would be preferable, honestly.

But then who would help Sidekick? Her stupid, logical voice chimed in as she pushed herself up by her hands. A pair of tailored trousers met her gaze as she righted herself, she had only begun to tilt her head up, her mind cloudy when she felt a hand lock around her upper arm and drag her to her feet.

She stumbled up, her leg faltering behind and falling again but the grip didn’t loosen and the legs didn’t slow down and Hero was forced to make her legs work after depriving them of oxygen for the last twenty seconds.

“Dad.” Flynn’s voice. “Dad!”

“Enough, Flynn.” They were in the kitchen Hero realised, the wood of the dining room floor replaced with the black tiles. Supervillain was holding her, dragging her to the far side of the kitchen and she had the sense to start digging her heels in when they reached a door she wasn’t familiar with. “We tried it your way, Flynn. Now, we’ll try it Villain’s way and compare notes.”

“Dad, no. Wait!” Flynn cried. Hero turned her head over her shoulder to see Villain’s sharp grin, arms around Flynn to stop him from following Hero and Supervillain wherever they were going. “Dad!”

“Ladies first,” Supervillain said after he opened the door and with a pause, he pressed his hand to Hero’s back and shoved her down the stairs.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Orphanage roll-call: (lmk if you wanna be added or removed): @xenlust @books-are-everything @micechomper r @shywhumpauthor @aarika-merrill @xxgalgurlxx @0eggdealer @watermelonrandom @tippytappytyping @silentpotat0 @swift-perseides s s @gloriousqueen101 @ladygwennn @books-are-everything @isnortkoolaidpowderteehee @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

[heartfullofleeches]

Turns out I'm doing both - Yan hellhound + Warden Reader

-

You've always had a soft spot for strays. When it turns out the wild dog you've been leaving scraps for is in actuality a massive, three headed monstrosity from hell little changes. Each head as a mind of its own, and though their personalities differ one factor that carries in them all is their fidelity to you. It took countless months and heavy trial, but eventually you were able to train the demon well enough to work at your side in the prison. No soul would ever be safe from the tempered glares of your protector which were death sentences of their own only without the senseless bloodshed. Long as thighs stayed that way you didn't mind their playfulness less they start to fuss during important business.

Your pet follows you around like a sweet puppy - alway chasing your heels or maybe trying to squeeze its giant body beneath your desk to be close to you at all times. It towers over you and your guards, striking the toughest inmates to submission. It snarls and hisses - ready to bite limbs anscheads off in a flash yet ceases all activity with a single tug on its collar or mere whisper of its name. You may let it get away with scaring people too much, but it's hard to punish your gentle beast when they're just that in every way except when it decides to show its true colors-

Warden Darling pretty much sees the hound as am extension of themself/a tool to improve their work flow, but that doesn't mean they don't care for them. The mental imagine of warden darling doing paperwork while using this behemoth as a footstool/seat is sending me

-

[Warden Darling sits in the hounds lap during an inspection, using the beast as a portable chair around the jail. Warden darling pets two of its heads as the third nuzzles their cheek - leash tight around their wrist.]

Warden Darling: good pups~

Yan Guards, on the verge of tears: It hurts seeing others living your dreams :(

-

Warden Darling: Sit.

[Reader pets the hound as it kneels, wagging its tail - looking off to the side puzzled]

Warden Darling: I wasn't speaking to you

Yan Inmate: I know....Let me dream for a little longer before you kick me while I'm down

-

Warden Darling: I need a shower.... I believe its time for you to have a bath as well..

[The hound lifts reader up and licks at their cheek as it carries them off to the showers. A group of guards and inmates watch on from the sidelines - huddling close as the pair walk off with the hound pawing at reader's clothing]

Yan guard: We can't let that fucker get away with this!

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ PSYCHO KILLER

tw slasher!mattsun, final girl!reader, noncon, coercion, size kink, cevix fucking, fear play, blood play, cutting/marking, he uses a knife on reader, degradation, spanking, manhandling, forced cheating, murder mentions, mattsun's giant cock wordcount. 5.6k

a/n. another commission from an anonymous amazing person so make sure to say thank youuu to them!!! this time we got matTSUnnnn and omg this was such a blast to write anD AAHHH i hope you enjoy it and that it fuels your slasher fucker urge a little bit, thank you so so much for commissioning me again and hERe she is!!

You never really thought much about mortality, before. But the flashing lights reflected on the brick walls, red blue, red blue, red blue, and the wailing of the sirens, paint a haunting picture. One that even someone positive, bright-eyed and preppy like you feels down to the bone. You have the displeasure of standing with wide eyes, hands stiff and shaky from the evening chill, as the armed men move people out of the way and the person from the alley towards the ambulance; and though you’re across the street— you can tell. 

The way onlookers cover their mouths and gasp and try to unsee as the stretcher passes by them doesn’t paint a promising picture. Your spine feels all flimsy the longer you stand, one hand wrapped frozen around your bag of groceries, apartment only a few blocks away. It’s in the way the senior police officer glances around the blocked off street and tells a passer-by to hurry home or to move along, and the yellow tape keeping the alleyway separate as it trembles rapidly and noisily in the wind. You take a deep breath against the sudden chill that travels all the way down your body, and pick your heels up to walk back.

Back down the opposite way and to the blue lit 24h corner store you left mere minutes ago. The melody of the store chime is comforting, and you speed walk all the way down the aisle back to the register. The charming, delicate features of the young man across from you light up when he properly looks up, and he tilts his head much like a curious animal- one brow raising. “Babe? You’re back?”

“I’m waiting out your shift here,” you softly declare, sneaking back behind the counter where you usually dare steal a few kisses, and dragging out a shitty, plastic chair to rest your head to his hip as he blinks down at you in confusion. Eventually though, Haru just nods, his honey brown hair falling a little further over his brows when he leans down to brush his hand over your head.

“Okay. You alright?” You nod, and he doesn’t ask more— and eventually you two fall back into conversation, only stopping every so often to serve the scarce customer. When you two walk back home in the early hours of the morning, the people have gone, but the yellow tape still stings as you pass the quiet street.

+

The apartment smells of the cheapest of Chinese takeout when you drag yourself back inside late from work. Your boyfriend just barely peeks his head around the corner to come give you a kiss, gentle as he is, and slides back into his spot behind the stove. “Food’s here, and I’m just making some extra eggs for mine, because I gotta leave in half an hour.” The routine ramble is nice, you suppose, finding a smile on your face by the time you make it into the kitchen with him to wrap your arms around his back, and he hums. “Oh, one of your friends swung by, so I let him in a little bit ago- I left him on the couch.”

Haru’s hands are quick to pull you back when you let go, for just a second, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, and one to your nose. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too. I’m gonna go see who needs me- real quick,” you smile, “and then we eat together?”

“Mhm, perfect.”

The door out of the small kitchen leads into the main room, and you look around as you swing your bag over one of the chairs- but find the space strangely vacant. Though a small pout comes to your lips, you just walk along, passing by the desk with stacks of books and lecture notes, to pull open the door to your bedroom. Your house simply isn’t big enough to lose anyone even if you wanted to. The bedroom lights are off, as you step inside, toes curling instinctively into the carpet; before finally clearing your voice. “Hello?”

At the very moment you turn, the tiny door to the bathroom swings open and a tall shape clad in all black steps out— and you jerk with a loud gasp, only to start laughing when your hands meet his chest and you glance up properly. Matsukawa’s dark eyebrows are furrowed in surprise as he finishes drying off his hands, before he gives you a ‘what gives’ sort of look. “You scared me,” you chuckle, as you lean in to give him a hug. “It’s been a while, how are you? And why’d you swing by?” The way he manages to move his arm over your head without having to change positions to throw the paper towel into the trash isn’t lost on you.

“Can’t a guy come see his favorite ethics tutor on a tuesday?” The familiar deep rumble of his voice fills the room, and you make room to trail back to the couch.

“Well, considering I dropped out,” your voice is a little softer when you take a seat in the squeaky chair, “I’d say that it’s probably a waste of your time. But I guess I’m pretty glad to see you again.”

Mattsun plops down on the couch facing you with a little sigh, before that same self assured smile you’ve always known him to have returns. “Don’t make me feel too special, teach.”

“I’m younger than you! It’s not my fault you took ethics again and needed my help.” The banter is nice, reminds you about the hours and hours spent in the library that always grew too rowdy for a study session. Mattsun’s a good friend. A better one than you are, maybe. His long legs stretch out to the coffee table, before he nods.

“This is a nice place. Cozy.” The compliment makes you feel all warm inside. Despite everything, despite the struggles you and Haru have to deal with, the money, the debt- it’s nice to hear someone appreciate it. Even if that someone is the most well accomplished out of your late friend group. “And the boyfriend seems pretty fucking smitten too.” His dark eyes find your face when you smile wider, lacing his hands together over his knee. “Nothing to add? Come on, I missed you so~ much. I haven’t even seen you properly for the last 4 months. Talk to me. You normally don’t hesitate to run your mouth.” He chuckles when you put on a faux-pout.

“Fine, fine, hang on!” you beam after a second of thinking, and roll your eyes. “Let me make a pot of coffee. You jerk.”

“You love it.”

+

You aren’t the most observant of people, but you swear… you’re losing more shit than normal. Some of the stuffies that were proudly displayed on the shelves are gone, and you can’t find some of your panties no matter how hard you look. And while the small closet in the bedroom is more mess than order, now you can’t even find most of your old photo albums, and some keepsakes from highschool and uni. But with your boyfriend catching his sleep when you leave for work, and you returning late- no one has time to go looking for clothing that’s grown legs, let alone do a thorough clean. So you brush it aside, and move on without your favorite pair of lacy baby blue panties.

It’s only when your boyfriend’s watching the news on his laptop one day, that it tickles something in the back of your brain. As you stuff another bite of pasta into your face, your hands still on top of the unfolded laundry.

A feminine voice flies over the topics at breakneck speed, as the honey brunet suddenly turns up the volume a little and stops eating. “Yesterday, another casualty in a devastating string of murders was found. Passerby’s found the body walking by an alley in Miyagi prefecture at around 9pm. The victim has now been identified to be Kawada Eiko, the 25 year old nurse that was reported missing a few days ago. Strangulation or suffocation are the two current debated causes of death, authorities say. She might have been the unfortunate victim of a lover’s spat, as she was found with blue panties constricting her airways. More about this at 6.”

“Turn that down,” you quickly breathe, and Haru turns over his shoulder with concern in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry. ‘S a bit grim for lunch…” He simply gives you an understanding look, before suddenly turning to knock his knees with yours. “How about you pick something to watch? Here.” His hands reach out to pull you a little closer, and cradle you against his chest. It’s sweet. He always is. And though you nuzzle into his touch, the story doesn’t want to leave your brain. There it is again. That faint flicker of mortality staring you in the face.

+

The stern face of the police officer- burly, heavy mustache and old- is exactly how you imagine it’d be, made very clear by the dead-like tone and eyes as he gives you an up and down. “This your house?”

“R-rented, yes,” you’re in the pajama-est of clothes from when you pulled open the door, “of me and my boyfriend.” The officer gives a tiny nod to the other two men behind him, and pulls out his badge to present it to you. It’s too early for your brain to function properly, but you still swallow at the sudden severity of the situation. “What’s- the issue, officer?” Your voice sounds even mousier when his eyes narrow in on the scene behind him, and your measly apartment feels even more inferior than usual.

“Sasaki Haru’s been arrested and is currently being questioned for multiple accounts of aggravated assault and first-degree murder. And we have to search the property, young lady.”

You stop breathing.

Murder.

Your head thumps, and you feel a flare of heat bite at your neck, clutching the door handle a little tighter.

Murder, he said. Haru… arrested for murder.

“We’ll have to take you in for questioning as well. Why don’t you walk towards the car and have my colleague escort you—” You focus as hard as you can on the words that are thrown at you, but really, nothing hits. There’s a blanket of static over everything in your vision. You might puke.

+

“Hey, breathe out. You’re turning blue,” Mattsun’s deep voice washes over you like a wave as you clamp the phone to your chest and try your best to relax a little, a warm, heavy hand softly stroking the area between your shoulders. It’d been a total coincidence that he’d called just as you were done with the hours of terrifying questioning, but as soon as you’d sniffled out that Haru had been arrested, he took time off to come over. Here you are now, hovering between sleep and frightened awareness in the painful, sticky seats of one of the dead waiting halls.

And though you’re glad someone’s here for you, because Haru’s parents haven’t even called yet— you’re also a little too wired up to appreciate the sarcasm and jokey attitude. After another few minutes of nervously fiddling with your phone and staring through the small window at the other doors, Mattsun clears his voice. “So… murder, huh.” His dark eyes are intense as they flutter over your face, eyebrows straightened. “Do you think he did it?”

You find yourself glaring, even though you can’t say why. “No, of course not. He’d never. He’s… he’s so gentle—”

“They’re saying there’s evidence, y’know.” You know that. It makes you want to rip out your hair and sob, because they showed you the proof. The dna, a kitchen knife out of your drawers, traces of the perfume you always, always wear— but you can’t shake the feeling that only if you could talk to Haru, if you could see him, ask… Your intuition tells you he didn’t do it. Couldn’t have. And they’re wrong, they have to be wrong. You would’ve known if you’d been living with a murderer. You would’ve. You just have to wait for an alibi to show it.

“He didn’t do it, Issei,” you softly end up repeating, and Mattsun’s eyes basically roll themselves as he looks away. “I’m telling you, I know him, and he didn’t do it.”

“Maybe- you just don’t know people as well as you think you do, teach,” the brunet places his elbows on his knees, covering his mouth as he leans in as glances over at you. “You’re wonderful, ‘n smart, and kind. But you’re also naïve, baby…” The last word falls deeper, and drags a cold shiver up your spine that only gets more intense when he doesn’t laugh it off, or look away. Luckily though, the door to the waiting room is pushed open that very moment, and a tired looking woman taps her clipboard.

“You can go home for now. Get some rest. And please stay available so that if we need you to return-”

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” you start, and wring your sweaty hands together a few times, “what about Haru?”

Her sharp eyes soften a little when finding your face. “He’ll have to stay until they’re done with the investigation. It might be another couple hours, or days. He can’t see anyone until then.” Your dejection must show, because she sighs. “Head home, child. Try to sleep some. You’ll be okay.” You barely manage to have enough energy to get out of the chair, letting Mattsun take your hand and rub a few comforting circles into it with his thumb. And then you’re walking home as he holds the umbrella high above your heads, and that cold only worsens. You don’t feel okay.

It just doesn’t make any sense.

“How about my place instead of yours?” Issei’s more reserved when he asks, laying an arm over your shoulders to pull you into his side a little. “Doubt you wanna hang out there now that the cops have gone through it all.” It doesn’t matter, really, so you nod- let him walk along the crosswalk and steer you down the familiar streets in silence for a while. It really doesn’t make any sense. Haru’s been at work all evenings that the murders happened, there’s security cameras to prove it. And killing someone in broad daylight, alley or not— it doesn’t line up.

Issei squeezes your hand in his when the silence continues, and you briefly look up at him to give him a little smile that doesn’t feel like it reaches. “Sorry I’m so quiet. I’m just…”

“Lost in thought, I get it.” He hums, before pointing at the long line of buildings. “It’s just along there, we’re almost inside. Then we can talk about it, or you can take a load off, or whatever.” The short chuckle is meant to disperse the tension, you know that, but even the tall brunet seems on edge. You’re still holding his hand, and you find yourself blinking at it in quiet confusion. But the thoughts are louder than logic right now. And if Haru didn’t do it, which you will yourself to believe with all your heart —you have no choice but to— how the hell did stuff out of your house get to the scene of the crime. You never lended anyone that knife, and definitely not the even more private stuff—

Issei leads you through the gates into the courtyard of the apartment, then to the door, into the dim staircase all the while softly humming. And you don’t know why your heart sinks as you climb the stairs with him in tow, because the building smells nice, and the walk to the door is clean and high-class. “Tch, you really are,” his low voice barely reaches, and you raise a brow. “Naïve that is.” The humming goes into a soft laugh when you turn to look at him, and the tall man smiles down at you. But though he’s smiling, the hairs on your neck go to stand on end, shoulders squaring. The vivid, unnatural sort of intensity in his eyes rolls your stomach.

And you go to pull your hand out of his, only for Issei to resist the pull harder. “Shh, calm down. I got you, don’t I? Don’t tell me I scare you.” He does, though. “Come on, princess, we’re friends. And friends are there for friends when they need each other. Now you're poor boyfriend's gone.” Your mouth corners turn down into a half pout, half open in confusion. And you don’t know why, you never felt unsafe with him before— but every fiber in your body is screaming at you to run. You want to. But your body refuses to budge, let alone turn your back on him. Issei’s always been a very tall guy. Tall, but wired with athletic muscles from the years of sports, and strong, and fast— and all of these things never scared you.

But they do now. The shivers that roll down your spine are almost painful as you stare up at him and that happy-go-lucky grin still stays on. The corners of your eyes sting when you try again to pull away, to no avail, and Issei’s long legs pull you towards the door of his fancy apartment anyway.

“Issei, let go.” Your voice breaks, and tears creep up in your eyes and your shaky whimper. “This isn’t funny, let me go.”

“Nah ah, I got something to show you.” His casual sing-song response almost makes you angry. But you can’t be when you’re too busy fighting off a full-body panic and planting your heels into the tiled floor. “I got something to show you,” he repeats, glancing over his shoulder again. “Y’see, because I really like you. You make me feel all- hm- good inside.” His curly hair bounces with each step towards the door, before he repositions his grip to hold around your wrist when your sweaty hand almost manages to slip out. “But then you went and got a boyfriend, and disappeared on me.”

He fiddles with the keys for a second as you use your other hand and try to pry your fingers into his painfully tight hold, and frowns. “And I- stop struggling- I don’t blame you. I mean- it’s not like I can even explain this little earworm I’ve got. About how you and I just fit together. I should know better, right?” He’s rambling so fast, and the door manages to be swung open, and you bite back a sob. You want to scream. You want to scream, call out for help, do something other than get pulled in further and further, but it doesn’t work. Your body refuses. Your head’s blank. “I know I should know better. Yet here we are.”

He pulls with his entire body to get you over the doorstep, and grabs your face between his hands to aim it up to his, squishing your cheeks until your lips are a puckered pout. And his deep voice goes low as he whispers. “You didn’t like my little stunt with the panties?”

It short circuits you. Before you get to think about it, you knee him right in the dick with all your might, and push at his face until he jerks back— turning and sprinting back towards the door. But his reach is longer, and he tackles your feet, sending you straight onto your belly with a loud, unforgiving thump as your head knocks against one of the book cases, and his large hands wrap around your ankles. He pulls you back a few feet across the floor, and though you try to kick at him, he’s quick to get above you and restrain you.

”Help!” you squeak, voice more air than actual sound. “Help me!” Issei grabs you by your neck and kicks the door closed with his long legs, before going to sit on top of your back and squeezing the air out of your lungs.

“Awww, fuck, babe,” he groans for a long breath, before grabbing your head and pushing it down into the cold floor as if in punishment. The loud knock of your skull against the floor is enough to force your thoughts out of you. “That really hurts, fuck.” Then he shifts, one hard knee in the middle of your back. You can barely breathe, and the little bit of air you do get is obstructed by the tears blurring your vision. “Little kitty’s got claws, huh.”

“Issei,” you start to whimper through your hickuppy breaths when his palm slides down your neck and under the edge of your shirt, “please let me go. We’re friends. We’re friends, right? So let me go home, and I won’t tell anyone.I swear, I won’t- wo- please, please, ‘ssei.”

“Tch, don’t go begging on me yet, baby. I’ve hardly even started.” His large hands roam around your skin for a moment, before he rolls you over like you’re a ragdoll, and grabs your face again as he bends down until your noses are touching. Him, overtop of you, his free hand training down the surface of your thigh through your sweatpants.

His dark eyes glitter in the low light, animated and joyful despite the way you’re trying to calm your wheezes. Which doesn’t really help. The harder you try, the less air you manage to use— Mattsun’s heavy palm sliding to your throat to squeeze the tender skin there. “Hey, guess what.” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, before he starts picking anxiously at the stretchy band of your pants, sliding two fingers under it. “you turn me on so much it makes me want to fuck you until you’re raw. But you might’ve guessed that already, right?” There’s a low chuckle, while you’re sniveling under him with wet cheeks and a hot face, before he starts tugging your pants down your thighs.

You cross your arms over your face, and Issei laughs a little harder. “Aww, don’t cry. I know what you’re thinking, all the murdering and stuff, the blood, the choking, cutting open— it’s a lot. But luckily for you… all of that isn’t going to happen to you. Look, here-” he mumbles, pulling your arms away from in front of your eyes to force your smaller hand back in his, linking pinkies, “promise. They weren’t you, so I had to get rid of them sooner rather than later.”

By the time he finishes talking, you’re shivering without your pants, on his cold floor and tears all over your face- and for a moment Issei looks like the guy you knew when he pouts down at you. But then he licks his lips, and the relief is gone. “And you get I can’t let you go after this. So it’ll be easier for both of us if you play along.”

Then he gives you a once over like you’re a slab of meat, and hums, whispering under his breath. “I like when they play along.” It makes you cry harder, but barely any noise manages to come out, staring resolutely at the ceiling as soon as his hand lets your chin go to trail his fingertips along your tits. “So fucking pretty, baby.” The lilt of barely veiled excitement in his voice makes you want to sink into the floor, to just stop breathing altogether. You trusted him implicitly, and- though your skin is covered in goosebumps, it barely sets in that Issei was the one who— 

You remember the disemboweled girl on the stretcher, the yellow tape. And bile rises in your throat, so you have to put a hand over your mouth not to throw up. Oh god, you’re… You’re cold on the floor, your tits being gently squeezed by Mattsun’s large, rough hands through your shirt as you try to make your mind go anywhere else, to no avail. Suddenly he gets up on his knees to slide his arms under you, and you start struggling against him enough to make him glare down at you. “Don’t be a brat. If you want me to-”

“Let me go, Issei! Let go, let go!” You’re squished to his chest, but you manage to smack him across the face and get a little bit of wiggle room, and he lets out a low rumble of displeasure, before dragging you further into the house and tossing you down onto the bed. It’s even darker here, smelling faintly of spices and men’s shampoo- but that isn’t what frightens you. It’s the heavy duty cuffs dangling from the metal bedposts, and the way Mattsun grabs a fistful of your hair to yank your head back into the bed.

“Don’t move. Unless you want me to get mad.” The painful tug makes you whimper, but you find yourself trying to slide out the other side of the bed as he bends to search through one of the bedside tables. Your legs are going a bit numb, toes tingly as you dare brush your feet along the floor and make a run for it. Of course, you have to round the bed, and he doesn’t have much of a hard time grabbing the back of your shirt. With one stern move, he swings you over his shoulder, large hand palm landing so hard onto the soft skin of your ass it makes you gasp and tear up. The touch pulses and aches as he slaps the same spot again, and now you’re crying- this time from the stinging of your skin as he tosses you down and forces your hand into sharp, cold handcuff.

His slight frown and the stern look he gives you make your body freeze up, but then he leans in. “You’re a dumb little baby, hm? You don’t get it?” His eyes are wide, pupils dark and blown all the way out to take up almost his entire iris. His hand appears from behind his back with something that glimmers in the low light, and is sharp as he pushes it to your cheek. “Not gonna play along?” The knife’s cold edge next to your ear makes you entirely wooden, staring up at him with shallow breaths and your lips trembling. As he peeks out his tongue, the knife digs deeper and breaks skin on your cheekbone.

And it hurts, clenching your teeth hard as tears spill over, it really fucking hurts. Burns, instantly making the skin feel taut and pounding and irritated. You gasp again, grabbing at his arm with a pitiful cry. “No, no, stop. Stop, please. I’ll play along,” you plead, voice hoarse as you clamp your hand around his wrist. The hot, searing feeling on your cheek and the way you feel blood run along your face and ear takes away all other rational thought. It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. You want it to stop. “Please. Please, ‘Ssei, please.” The knife’s edge tingles as it leaves your wound, but the pain doesn’t go away, and you can’t help but sob. “Mattsun~”

However pathetic you must look, Matsukawa clearly doesn’t care. Because he groans, before leaning in to press his tongue to your wound, and then kissing you. And the coppery taste makes him moan into your mouth, while you try to turn your head away instinctively. His tongue forces open your mouth and melts with yours, sloppily claiming your mouth with a soft hum, heavy, large body coming to cover yours. He’s everywhere, as he grinds his hips into your panty-clad center and licks your mixed spit off his lips when he pulls back, throwing his head back.

You’re feeling a bit lightheaded, one cheek pounding painfully as you stare at him, and your one arm slowly but surely going numb from the uncomfortable position. But as you’re looking at him, he quickly rids himself of his shirt, and scoots you up the bed a little to drape your legs over his thighs. Even in the half-dark room, you can see them. The scars on his shoulders, his chest, ugly lines that healed over sloppily— proof that someone dug some nails of a key so sharp into him. Fought, and lost. It only makes you take a deep breath that makes a pinched, little noise. And Mattsun grins, rubbing his one hand along the skin.

“They were never close enough to you, y’know? Always something missing.” His one hand goes back to your chest, playing with your pebbled nipples through the fabric, before the knife returns and he drags it across your chest this time, pressing hard enough to cut your shirt and also the thin skin of your breast bone. “Oops, sorry.” The thin line of dots of blood that beads up has him bending to run his tongue along the little wound again, before ripping the rest of your shirt apart and sucking your tits into his mouth too. The warm mouth paired with the painful stinging and aching of your body has your stomach flipping and your mind blank.

Your free hand runs along his head to grab his curls in support, and his moans before biting one of your nipples. Then he pulls back to slap your tits around a bit, and running his thumb over the wound. Seeing the red before he slips it into his mouth is enough to have you squeezing your eyes shut, trying to block everything out. And Issei chuckles. “Aw, scaring my little baby, am I?” The sound of his zipper and the shuffling of fabric lasts for a few seconds. Your heartbeat is so fucking loud, and the stinging is loud, and his voice is loud, and everything is so fuzzy. You open your eyes again, only to find that same disturbing look in Issei’s eyes as he rubs his thumb over the slit of his cock, spreading all the precum around.

There’s a lot, you notice, and also that his heavy, flushed cock is big. Really big, too big, making your breathing even more rapid. It’ll hurt. It’ll hurt, it’ll hurt, it’ll hurt— your mind blanks when he starts peeling off your panties and manhandles your legs around however he wants, before the thick head of his cock is lined up to your too-dry pussy. There’s some wetness there, but not enough. You tear up more, because of the hurt, the pain, the fear, your lungs aching and everything else- and shiver when Issei talks again.

His voice is low enough to shake your bones. “You’ll have to fit me, okay? Okay?” His sing-song teasing has you nodding your head, and he puts on a cheshire-like grin again. “Because when they didn’t, I had to cut them open to make room-” he points the knife into your lower stomach then, point stinging as soon as it touches and digs into your soft belly, “-and I don’t want to cut up my favorite girl.” His thumb rubs lazy circles into the top of your slit, brushing your clit, before he spits on it.

Then he lines up, and starts pushing into your tight, clenched pussy without giving you a second to prepare, placing both hands next to your head and pushing himself into you while each inch fills you up more and more. It’s such a painfully tight fit your legs shake as he pushes you all the way full, and keeps pushing. “Aw, aw, aw, Issei- hurts, that hurts-”

“Uhuh,” he just nods, and kisses you again, smiling into the kiss and pulling back to watch you tear up. He moves one leg to push against your chest, and starts grinding his cock even deeper, pushing you open too much, and you cry— only to make him pull back and do it again, groaning. “Ah, fuck, princess. Fuck-ing- godly pussy, agh.” His huge dick pounds against your cervix every time he pulls back and bottoms out, bulging your stomach in a way that hurts even despite the pleasure. But his body slamming against your pussy each time does feel good, as much as you hate to admit it. It sends tingles down your spine that makes you forget about the hurt you’re feeling. “Tell me it feels good, hm?”

He leans into kiss you again, before turning your face to the side to rub his finger along the bloody mess on your cheek and make it hurt again. “Tell Mattsun senpai that his cock’s your favorite. And I’ll make you come so hard you go cross-eyed.” The pounding of the sticky, warm blood and the skin that aches, the way he fills you, makes you feel it all the way in your throat, how loud your heartbeat is in your head and how your lungs fill only with shallow half-breaths, has you crying out long and hard, squeezing your fingers into his bicep.

“Mattsun senpai~ cock-ahg- hick- my favorite.” You’re not sure you recognize the way your voice sounds as you say it, getting your mouth full of his tongue again as you choke on it and the way he forces his cock through your cervix. Hurts, hurts, feels so good it aches. You can’t tell up from down when his fingers return between your bodies, and he jackhammers his fat cock through you.

“I know, baby. I know. S’all for you now. All yours.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[triptanite]

Arabellan Dry

Rolan fuckers I thank you for your patience - thought we could do with something a little light hearted after the angst of my first post :') enjoy

This is adjacent to the Speak to Me post (which I'll be turning into more of a chapter series over time) but you don't have to read either for the other to make sense

Pairing: Rolan X reader

Content warning/s: none

MASTERLIST

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

"I like them. Your horns." You profess, absentmindedly. You take in the details up close, refusing to look down where you're sure he would be looking up at you.

"You'd be the first." Rolan swallows hard, his glass bone dry.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You squint at the faded label of the liquor bottle. It lays heavy in your hand, one of dozens procured by your party during your travels.

Arabellan Dry

Little flakes of wax seal crumble onto your fingers as you crack the top, and you sniff the contents with caution. A little more sour than you'd like, but you've certainly has worse. You take a hefty first sip, a familiar burn lacing down your throat and into your chest. You wince and ponder how people actually like this stuff. The scent lingers on your breath now, and your wandering eyes land on the tiefling you'd been avoiding since the party started.

It wasn't that you hadn't wanted to see him. No, quite the opposite. It was only recently that you'd returned to the Emerald Grove bloodied and bruised, a gentle giant druid at your side and victory in your veins. The rest of the day therein was filled with a flurry of conversations that you couldn't remember. Your body was exhausted, your brain a blur. Tieflings, druids, so many mixed emotions. You remember being thanked, being scolded, wiping goblin viscera off your weapons, eating gruel.

One thing you do recall was the golden gaze of one tiefling wizard; Rolan. Your brief conversation is lost somewhere in your mind between the sleeping tadpole and the likely head trauma from battle, but you remember those eyes. The high of combat made your hands quiver. It took most of your attention to will your body to calm, weakening your listening skills.

Now, rather than adrenaline alone, your blood buzzes with dry red wine.

Shadowheart's gaze catches yours over her own goblet of something undoubtedly strong. She smirks, gesturing her head towards Rolan and his siblings. Mischief twinkles in her eyes, and you resist the urge to roll yours in response. Shadowheart tips her cup back, draining the contents, and mimicks for you to do the same.

You glance down. Your face looks back at you at an unflattering angle in the deep red. It's unclear whether it's the colour of the wine or if you really are that flushed in the cheeks. Looking back up, you bring your chalice up in a silent toast to your friend.

Fuck it.

You gulp down your drink with little elegance. Courage, Sharran-style.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

"Patience. Have you no respect for showmanship?" Rolan chides his siblings as he cracks his knuckles.

Oh, that voice. Low and warm and boastful, like velvet.

Your head swims slightly as you approach. You focus very hard on keeping your feet from crossing over. Perhaps you'd overestimated your drinking abilities.

"Having performance issues Rolan?" Cal heckles. Your stifled giggle announces your presence, and Cal waves you down in greeting.

"Hush you, now..." Rolan replies, eyes quickly flicking over you before he braces himself. "Behold!"

A gorgeous burst of glittering light manifests in the air like a firework. You stare in child-like awe, and find yourself clapping genuinely. Finally, Rolan turns his attention to you.

"Adoring applause? You're too kind." He bows, smiling.

"Humble as ever, Rolan." You bow at the waist in mock-servitude, just catching your balance.

"Remember when he could hardly cast that?" Lia laughs.

"They grow up so fast."

You procure a handkerchief from one of your pockets, dabbing your eyes in jest. Cal sobs like a proud mother, patting his own tear-less eyes.

"Never have I met such troglodytes. Now, pass the wine." Rolan extends a hand towards Lia, not an ounce of venom in his words.

"Don't suppose you have any tricks to one-up Rolan the Great?" Cal asks as you join their log seat. You run your finger around the rim of your empty chalice, thinking. The atmosphere is familiar and calming, you feel your shoulders relax.

"Afraid not, although I've been told I have two incredible left feet on the dance floor. I'm sure that's worth something."

"Ha! I'd like to see that." Lia chides, having produced a small loaf of bread to accompany her drink. Quick as lightning, Cal reaches over and plucks a chunk out of Lia's hand and into his own mouth. She flicks one of his horns in annoyance.

"Needs cheese, Lia." Cal nods thoughtfully.

"Thanks, Cal." She responds in the same tone, "Show me where the good stuff is and I'll snag more bread from the table."

"Deal. Rolan, mind my drink, yeah?"

Before you or Rolan can catch up with their conversation, the two are already off. Lia laughs as she holds the remainder of the loaf high out of Cal's reach.

"Idiots." Rolan chuckles affectionately. He looks good when he smiles, when he's relaxed, you notice.

"Can't live with them, can't live without them." You agree, pointing your head towards some of your companions.

You spot Volo holding Astarion a conversational hostage, the very picture of disinterest on his pale face. As Cal passes by, carefully balanced stack of cheese wedges in his arm, Astarion ropes him into the chat and makes a smooth escape. Cal looks helplessly around but it's too late. Volo has brought out a quill and several hundred questions, it seems. You laugh, drunk on moments of normalcy after weeks of planning and fighting and surviving.

"What are you drinking tonight?" Rolan asks, a glass goblet half-full of something dark and red in his grasp. There's an easy smile on his face.

"It was Arabellan Dry," You tilt your hand to show it's emptiness, "Although, I've discovered that I may be more of an ale person."

"It does have a bit of a bite," Rolan laughs. You eye his pointed teeth, wondering if he does too. "I suppose it's more my thing than yours. Not to worry though. With the amount that you and your companions have borrowed during your adventure, I'm sure there'll be something there you'll like."

"You look good, Rolan," You admit, a little too tipsy to catch yourself. "Good-happy, you look happy. It suits you."

It's hard to see with the red hue of his skin and the dark light of night, but you swear you see a flush crawl up his neck and towards his cheeks.

"Ah, thank you." He stammers just slightly, golden eyes raking over your face, "You as well. I imagine that's the glow of victory on you."

"Well, that and the good company." You cast your eyes around your camp again. People are talking, drinking, dancing. Scratch is zipping between people like it's a race to get as many pets as possible. The air smells deliciously of campfire wood smoke. You hope it never washes out of your hair. "It feels safe here, even if only for a moment. I like seeing my friends just enjoy something. I think we all deserve to let off a bit of steam. I'm certain I'm still washing goblin smell out of my clothes."

As you turn back to your conversation, you catch Rolan's lingering eyes. He looks slightly out of sorts, like he was half-listening. At his lack of response, you brush imaginary dirt from your forehead.

"Something on my face?" You chuckle, only slightly self-conscious.

"No," Rolan startles back to reality, sounding somewhat embarassed. He hesitates a moment, gulping down a healthy amount of wine before continuing, "I just, I understand what you mean. Not necessarily for the bard and the druid, but for Cal and Lia. All things considered, I'm glad you asked us to stay."

"I expect it'll make a good story for Lowakkan."

"Lorroakan."

"That's the one! Looking forward to Baldur's gate, I assume?"

"Oh you've no idea." Rolan grins wide, all of his excitement tensing up in his shoulders. Noticing that his siblings are otherwise occupied, he sits himself down next to you. He's so close that you can feel his body warmth against your side. There are fine lines around his eyes that crinkle when he smiles. He smells like the campfire and something vaguely herbal. Your head swims again.

"Something on my face?" Rolan teases, breaking you out of your staring trance as you realise with embarassment that he was still talking.

"No! Sorry, please go on."

"It's all right," He laughs, draining the last of his wine, "I think it comes with being a wizard. The talking, that is."

"Should I expect Lorroakan to be chatty too, then?" You ask genuinely, turning your body to face more towards him. Your knees knock against his and neither of you make an effort to move away.

"I hope so, I want to hear everything he has to say. He's going to make me the best wizard in Faerûn, I bet my robes on it."

"He can hardly make you into something you already are," You nudge him, making a gesture similar to his when he did his glittering light spell earlier.

"You flatter me," He laughs. You feel your chest swell a little. You think that you could come up with every cheesy compliment in the book if it made him laugh like that. "Though I will admit, it's not easy to even get to that point with most. People see my appearance and in their ignorance miss out on something spectacular."

He boasts, but his tone is tinged with something more. Genuine hurt, sadness. You eye your arms and legs, more exposed in your casual wear than your armour of late. Though you'd been given several new scars and gashes, you supposed most people greeted you as an adventurer. You weren't a tiefling like Rolan, like Cal, like Lia. Ironically, you felt sorry for people who would had never heard Cal's quick humour or his incredible mediating skills. You felt angry at the thought of them not taking Lia seriously - her fierce determination and loyalty, her compassion, her resolve.

"Ignorance is right," You nod, "Their loss for not having met you, or Cal or Lia. You're destined for greatness, I can sense it. Even if you are stubborn as an ox and have awful taste in wine."

"Flattery, insult, and a pep talk? I should join you more often." He scoffs lightly, adjusting some loose strands of hair that have curled around his horns. "Though I'll need you to tell me when I look dishevled. People already take one look at my head and move aside, I don't need to look like I've fought an ogre and lost too-dammit!" His claw tangles into a knot in his hair, and you notice his voice slurring slightly and fingers fumbling.

Looks like Arabellan Dry hits everyone hard and fast.

You place your cup down and stifle a laugh. Looking into his eyes, you raise your hands up towards his head.

"May I?"

Rolan stops losing the fight with his hair for a second. He looks taken aback and relieved in equal measure . He nods, electing not to speak, and you swear he looks a little shy as he does.

You reach up, vision blurring your two hands into four, then back into two again. Gently, you untangle Rolan's hair, smoothing it back where it usually sweeps around his horns. You untuck his fingers, and he softly grasps your hand in his as you brush against the base of one curved horn.

"I like them. Your horns." You profess, absentmindedly. You take in the details up close, refusing to look down where you're sure he would be looking up at you.

"You'd be the first." Rolan swallows hard, his glass bone dry.

You aren't lying, you have always been fascinated by the diversity of body parts in Faerûn. Tiefling horns, Dragonborn tails, cambion wings. Having appendages typical of a human meant that you'd only ever admired from afar - not wanting to risk offending or overstepping. But basking in the dim moonlight, wine in your veins, and the permission of your friend and ally; well, it would be a shame not to revel a little in the moment.

You press the pads of your fingers against the side of one horn, unsure of how much feeling it might have. You move slowly, allowing plenty of time for Rolan to interject with that assertive tone you hear so often from him. It's smooth, but textured with ridges and grooves. It reminds you of the tusk of an elephant or the curled horn of a ram.

Rolan's breath hitches, his free hand clutching so hard at his cup that it might shatter. You lighten your touch, realising with horror that you might be making him uncomfortable. His hand stills, remaining atop yours, keeping you there without force.

"Sorry, is this okay? Should I stop?" You ask genuinely, frantically.

You finally cast your eyes down, eyelids heavy. Blood rushes through your face at breakneck speed, swelling your cheeks rosy. He meets your gaze, his own golden eyes slightly glazed from the alcohol. His voice comes out in a low whisper, nervous, curious.

"No, it's okay. You don't have to stop."

"But do you want me to?"

You can practically hear the cogs turning in Rolan's brain. His cheeks are flaming red and the heat from his skin could singe off your eyebrows. You're not really any better, heart hammering like your chest was a forge. You've got tunnel vision, just about forgetting that you're at a lake-side camp with your friends and not in an isolated dreamscape on the Astral Plane. Rolan seemingly finds his words, opening his mouth to reply when you're both accosted by a jostle and the smell of baked goods.

"Remind me never to rely on you two for rescue, you're useless!" Cal admonishes you both. You and Rolan snap away from each other like you've been burnt. "I was stuck talking to Volo for ages."

"Oh my gods, Cal, is that you? Why, you must've aged about a century since I last saw you!" Lia gasps, plucking Rolan's chalice from his grip and replacing it with a small wicker basket full of bread. "You all right? Rolan's not giving you a hard time is he?"

"No, no! Of course not," You stammer, giving your most convincing attempt to appear casual, "What did you guys end up finding? Did you raid a picnic island or something? You've got enough cheese to feed an all-out mouse army."

"Well despite being prisoner to Volo for twelve tenday, I managed to get something useful out of him. Apparently this cheese is best with grapes, so I got grapes, and then this one is a dessert cheese? So I think we should try that last. Oh, and this one..."

You tune Cal out slightly as he pulls wedge after wedge of various dairy products from a basket lined with cheesecloth.

"You and Rolan been drinking from the same cup?" Lia asks you, the ghost of a smirk on her mouth.

"Pardon?" You practically squeak, voice an octave higher than normal.

"The Dry? You both stink of it," She laughs. Lia pinches a slightly crumbly block of a harder cheese from Cal and hands it to you with a slice of a crusty bread. "Here, it's good for sharing."

Your face burns as you try to decipher how serious she's being. Rolan looks just as embarassed at the exchange, tight-lipped like he doesn't trust his tongue. You split the block in half and offer some to Rolan to break the tension.

"Want some?" You ask, almost shyly.

Your hands touch again, and you're certain you're both as transparent as a window to Lia.

"I would love some, thank you." He replies, a little too stiff to be convincing. Turns out you both have something in common, you're terrible actors.

Lia eyes you, all three of you picking up on the silent conversations that seem to be happening simultaneously.

"Oh! That's a good one," Cal interjects, "Volo says that one goes best with Arabellan Dry."

You lose your composure, giving into a fit of laughter as you raise your empty cup in agreement. You're drunk; whether that's on wine or embarassment or exhilaration you can't tell.

But given the company you're currently in, you don't mind not knowing just yet.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Ta da! Took a little while of coming back to this one every few days but I think it turned out sweet. Looking forward to writing more Rolan already - take care :3

[chaos-in-deepspace]

L&DS Xavier: Marker Magic | Drabble

I HIT THE POST BUTTON PREMATURELY. So anyway...comedy fic. With Xavie Baby? More likely than you think.

Pairing: Xavier x Reader Warning: None Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

The rule with dating Xavier is you had to accept that sometimes he was just going to fall asleep and forget about plans you made. You should’ve known when you heard the door to his apartment opening around the time you were waking that he wouldn’t make it. What he always did at night was confusing and he never bothered to tell you that information.

You could only sigh now as you looked at the man sprawled on his bed. In his defense, he did look adorable when he was asleep like this. You were thankful he had put your fingerprint on the lock on his door so you could come and go as you pleased…still….you were a bit spiteful. He could’ve at least sent a message to let you know he was out late and needed to reschedule. 

You then got a devious idea, a smirk etching onto your face as you looked around. You walked to his kitchen, finding a marker that was lovingly placed there for making notes on a pad nearby. You took it, twirling it in your hand as you went back to Xavier’s room. You looked down at his sleeping, peaceful figure and decided to ruin the image.

He normally slept like a rock so you doubted this would wake him. You popped off the top of the marker and began working on your newest art piece. Lines were easily drawn on his smooth skin as you used your hand to adjust his face where you needed and cover as much as you could. His face twitched adorably and it reminded you of a sleeping bunny.  You were almost satisfied when you felt something.

Xavier’s body rolled over, his arm reaching out to the warmest object nearby, you. You got dragged down to his chest, pressed against it as his grip locked you in. For a second you thought you had woken him up, but upon further inspection he was still asleep, the gentle snore was proof of that.

Still, you were fucked if you stayed here. He’d no doubt be annoyed with you drawing on him and would try to take revenge. You wiggled in his grasp, trying to push him away. After a bit of a struggle, you managed to toss yourself out of his arms and onto the floor. You fell with a loud grunt, the sound of your body hitting the ground was enough to finally wake up Xavier.

You saw his silvery blonde hair poke up and look around before he spotted you. He rubbed his eye and noticed how your legs were almost up in the air, knees hooked to the edge of the bed and your upper body lay on your back on the floor. You looked ridiculous right now…but he looked worse.

You couldn’t help but snicker, reaching for the phone in your pocket and snapping a photo. The flash stunned Xavier as he went to rub his eyes and let out a yawn. He called your name gently, “What are you doing down there?” he mumbled tiredly. He could see you laughing on the ground at something and his half-asleep brain registered it had to be his appearance.

In your laughing fit he was easily able to grab your phone and look at himself. The first thing he notices was the giant dick drawing on his cheek, and then the random little doodles and what he assumed was a butt over on his chin. How childish…and of course you’d be laughing on the ground due to it, almost in tears.

Xavier tried to wipe off the marker but noticed it didn’t even smudge. He saw it was still on the bed and looked it over. Both of you read the words at the same time.

Permanent.

Why this fucker had a permanent marker on his fridge was a question you’d ask till the end of time. All you knew was this man wouldn’t be able to go out in public for at least a few days until it rubbed off.

This time when he called your name it was no longer sweet. You cleared your throat, “Xavie baby, don’t do anything rash.” You tried reasoning but it appeared your pleading would get you nowhere.

You let out a blood-curdling scream when he grabbed you by the ankle, dragging you up as you struggled to get away. He got you on your back and pressed down on you with his hips, “I’m not doing anything rash. This is just…returning the favor.” He said, the marker approaching your face. Oh, you were fucked.

Next one will be posted today and it's the NSFW drabble bby, have fun!

[pinejayy]

╰┈➤ How they kiss you || One Piece Men

including: Law, Doflamingo, Corazon

a/n: just small drabbles of one piece men kissing you and you’re lovely lips (just a small author note for doffy’s part!! I don’t support the way this man acts and if you have a doflamingo in your life please get rid of them uwu) // with visuals uwu

warnings: doflamingo (I feel like he needs a warning) toxic behavior from doffy. // makeouts, a little suggestive but nothing bad uwu

Trafalgar Law

Law would pour everything into his kisses, past trauma, stress and such. But Law’s kisses are filled with so much passion for you, he has so much love for you. Loves throwing everything off his desk so he could lift you by the butt and place you there and go to town on your sweet lips. He loves it when your legs are wrapped around his waist bringing him closer against your body, you can’t help but grind against him. Law loves running his hands all over your body, feeling every curve.

“God…Y/N.” Law moans against your lips. His hands roaming around your back. Dragging his fingers across your back making you shiver. Dragging his tongue across your lower lip which you gladly granted him access. And of course the kiss would always get heated between the both of you. Both tongues fighting for it’s place and of course he always wins but sometimes he lets you win. If he’s feeling nice.

His lips would find their way to your neck and earlobe. Making you moan softly, and of course this would rile him up and he’s already tugging onto your clothes. Letting out a needy moan. “Need you..” He groans against your marked neck. Law makes sure to always lock the door because one day he didn’t and let’s say one of his crew members got a xxx view.

How he kisses you: ♡ ♡ ♡

Donquixote Doflamingo

When this man wants a kiss he’ll get a kiss, it doesn’t matter if you want it or not. Your job is to please him and satisfy his needs and if you don’t do that he’ll just find a new toy to play with. So of course his kisses are quite aggressive. He gets off by hearing you whimper between his lips and he can’t help it but laugh at your reactions. For a man who has a way with his words he sure does know how to kiss you and leave breathless.

Grabbing your face roughly and forcing you to look him in eyes. Well sunglasses. “Fufufufufu~ Give your King a kiss. You wouldn’t wanna upset him right?” He would whisper and bend down to your height. And of course you didn’t wanna disobey him so you would always give him what he asks for. And you would just nod and he would smirk and grab you by the back of neck and give you a tight squeeze and lean in to your level and force his lips against yours. And he doesn’t care if you’re struggling to stay on your tippy toes you better be kissing this man. Or else…

Both lips moving against each other. And Doflamingo would shove his long tongue inside your mouth without warning and explore what’s his. And holding your head in place so you wouldn’t move. This fucker also bites too.

How he kisses you: ♡ ♡ ♡

Donquixote Rosinante (Corazon)

Now this man is going to be the more needy from all three of them!! He prefers taking his time when he’s kissing you. Very gentle!! A gentle giant. But he does prefer when you’re sitting on his lap whenever you guys are making out. Considering he’s a very tall man he doesn’t want you straining your body so it’s the better positions for Makeout sessions. And whenever you guys are making out he’s a needy mess. Whimpering your name against your lips. A bunch of open kisses across your neck and face. He’s favorite thing to do is give you open kisses around your neck and tell you how much he loves you and how beautiful you are.

Corazon loves feelings your body against his hands, your skin is so soft against his fingertips. He’s very gentle with you, he doesn’t wanna harm you. He loves the way your tongue feels against his, and of course you always win. But oh boy this boy is quite submissive. If you start kissing his neck he’s whimpering mess. And if you tug on his hair he’ll moan out your name.

“Mmm Y/N…more please…” He moans softly throwing his head, biting his lower lip. And he always makes sure to use his devil fruit abilities whenever you guys are fooling around because god forbid getting caught Doflamingo.

How he kisses you: ♡ ♡ ♡

[irkimatsu]

spicy wedding night with husk?👀

Spicy wedding night with Husk~

I sincerely doubt Husk is the type to wait for marriage before sex. For emotional intimacy, probably, at least by the time you met him; he's tired of one-night-stands and heartbreak, and he can't let himself be that sort of vulnerable with you until he's sure you're serious about him. But he doesn't need to put a ring on your finger before he's sweeping you off your feet with candles and music and gentle lovemaking into the morning. (Or until he's pinning you to the mattress and railing you until you can't feel your legs. He still likes some spice in the bedroom.)

But that wedding night is a whole other level. I think he'd like a big party for his wedding. Before he met you, he used to dryly joke about how if he ever got married again, he'd do it like in Vegas, get married by the first fucker in a suit he can find and sign the divorce papers in advance. But underneath that cynicism, there's a hopeless romantic who wants to celebrate his love and do it right this time. The party lasts long into the night, with Husk drinking and chatting with guests...

And staring at you, oh god, staring at you. He's always been attracted to you, but seeing you in your wedding best... that you're wearing because you want to spend the rest of your afterlife in this pit with him... he can't get his mind off you.

The way you smiled, tears in your eyes, before your first kiss with him as your husband... that smile will be in his mind for the rest of his existence...

A very drunken best man Angel is eventually going to get sick of Husk's pining and playfully shove you two out the door. Don't you guys have a reservation for the night? Go on, get out, go have fun!

Because, sure, you could just stay in your room at the Hazbin Hotel, especially if the reception is being held there... but where's the romance in that?

This is the first you've heard of a reservation, as Husk leads you to a fancy hotel some distance from the reception. He brings you up to a deluxe room, with a giant bed, a fireplace, a hot tub...

"Do you like it...?" he asks, surprisingly nervous.

You're afraid to ask how he afforded this; you know he's not the most responsible when it comes to making money...

But you'll leave that alone for now. Costs aside, of course you're delighted to spend your wedding night in a place like this...

He lights the fireplace with his magic - showoff - and puts on some music, and with that, he's holding you and kissing you more deeply than he has all night, which is saying something. He undresses you so slowly, allowing his paws and mouth to savor every inch of skin he exposes before removing just a little more of your clothing.

You're his now, you're his- and even more importantly, he's yours...

Before you're fully undressed, he'll have you under him on the silken sheets, still kissing your body as if he hasn't seen you in years. You undress him in turn, running your fingers through his fur, marveling at the idea that you've found someone this wonderful in a place like Hell.

His lips are locked with yours as he slides inside you, so slowly, for the first of many times that night. He gently rocks into you in time with the music, barely able to keep his mouth off yours, groaning as you lightly tug at the fur beneath his wings.

He's so gentle with you... for now, anyway. He's yours now, after all; he wants to do anything, anything at all, to help you enjoy your first night with him, and every other night following that. Every moment you're spending in bliss beneath his touch is bliss for him, too. If you just want to be gentle tonight, of course he'll honor that. ...on the other hand, if you want to check out the stock of sex toys that the room came with, maybe try something new...

It's going to be a long time before he can pull himself away from you. Hopefully he's booked more than one night here...

[queercontrarian]

Eris calls in his bargain with Rhysand: he wants Nesta to join him in the Autumn Court to help him in his scheme to bring down his father.

happy eris week fuckers. this one goes out to @secret-third-thing for being so endlessly patient with me. also thank you to @fieldofdaisiies for being the best beta i could ask for. i love you, please enjoy ♡

@erisweekofficial

Read the whole chapter on AO3

The Bargain

For as long as she could remember, Nesta had had no illusions about life being fair. Her mother had rid her of that idea when she was just a stupid little girl, but despite how well she had been prepared for disappointment Rhysand’s announcement still felt like one giant cosmic joke.

Silence. Complete and utter silence was ringing in her ears as Nesta waited for the male to say something else. Anything else. She had to have misheard him. There had to be a misunderstanding, some sick joke or a cruel prank for how she had behaved in the past year. But she had been good recently, she had tried…

Cassian’s voice pulled her out of her stupor. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” he asked loudly, as if to challenge Rhys to say it again. He wasn’t the only one. No one in the room seemed to comprehend what their High Lord had just announced to them. Cassian was holding Nesta’s hand almost painfully tight, but she was grateful for the anchor, tethering her to the couch, to here and now. Her head was buzzing.

“Eris demands that Nesta join him in the Autumn Court,” Rhys repeated, “To support him in his scheme to bring down Beron. That is what he demands as his part of the bargain.”

“You can’t be serious.” The words broke out of her as she was thinking them and immediately all eyes snapped to her. The ringing in her ears persisted as she felt herself slowly turn to stone under the combined scrutiny of the room and she reverted into her own space. This could not be happening to her right now. She felt the fire thrum in her blood, icy power bubbling up in her, and did her best to fight it down.

“Well, so much for finding out where his loyalties lie. There's your answer I guess,” Amren quipped, leaning back in her armchair. Mor clicked her tongue at her friend and Amren threw up her hands in frustration. “I’m just saying.”

Mor’s face was nearly as pale as Feyre’s, who was clinging to the pillow in her lap like a shield. “I thought our support was to be given after Eris is already High Lord,” she said, “That you would help validate his claim to the throne or whatever he would need after takeover.” Lucien snorted and then quickly cleared his throat as the attention shifted to his corner of the room.

“Apologies, Morrigan, but why would he need help when he is already High Lord? If the magic chooses him, isn't that claim enough?” Amren hummed, choosing to inspect her nails while Mor tried to launch into an explanation.

“I’m just saying, it’s not–”

Azriel interrupted, finishing Mor’s sentence for her. “This isn't the kind of–” He paused, looking at Nesta for a short moment before looking away, “-support we promised.” Both Mor and Cassian nodded at that. Nesta stayed frozen in her seat.

“And besides, his bargain is with you, not Nesta,” Feyre threw in, still clawing at the pillow in her lap. Rhys nodded but his expression was pained.

"That is correct.” Nesta drew in another deep breath. “I am, however, the High Lord Nesta has sworn fealty to. She is part of the Court, and as High Lord I am the Court and the Court is me."

For a long moment no one said anything as they let the reality of the situation sink in, trying to process what Rhysand had laid out for them. Nesta closed her eyes and breathed out shakily before opening her eyes again. Cassian gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Reject it,” he said, his voice impossibly calm and steady, “This bargain is out of the question.” He squeezed her hand again, and Nesta wasn’t sure if it was meant to reassure her or him. Her hand felt so cold. She could feel her power’s pulse in her palm and quickly pulled her hand away from Cassian’s.

“The bargain was made long ago. And unfortunately Eris has already told me that any other solution to our deal will be unacceptable to him,” Rhys explained. “He will consider our bargain unfulfilled. This is the support he wants, the only support he’ll take." For the first time he met Nesta’s eyes and she almost believed the sorrow in them when he said “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

She didn't know what to do with that admission. Frankly, she didn't want to acknowledge that any of this was happening at all. Nesta didn't want to speak, she didn't even want to think. She tugged at a loose thread on her dress, wondering if the whole stitching would come undone if she kept pulling. Silver lights danced at the edge of her vision and she squeezed her eyes shut to snuff them out. It was too much, all of it. She had to be dreaming.

Cassian jumped to his feet, pacing a few steps through the room, his wings thrown out wide. She could almost see him tremble with anger. “Nesta is her own person. She can make her own choices, he can't force her to go," he growled, pointing his finger accusingly at his brother. Nesta shivered. Yes he could. He very well could, otherwise they wouldn’t be sitting here.

“He doesn’t have to. I do,” Rhysand replied, running his hand across his face. There was a deep tiredness in his voice that revealed to Nesta that they had already lost this battle.

“And because you are High Lord she has to follow,” Azriel concluded for him. Rhys nodded again and Mor scoffed, though her grasp on the back of the couch gave her true feelings away. It was fear, not anger, that had her fingers damn near piercing the expensive upholstery, the furniture groaning under her tight grip. She too already knew they would find no way out. There was no solution to this but what Eris had laid out for them.

Nesta saw the shield around Feyre light up before she noticed the silver flames licking at her own fingers, and she balled her hands into fists quickly trying to extinguish the fire but it was too late. Before she could even think of anything else Rhysand smothered her in a wave of darkness.

The fire did not go quietly, hissing and cracking so violently that Nesta herself tried to jump away from it, though with the couch at her back there was nowhere to go. Through the noise of the fire she heard several people call out to her but she could place neither where their voices were coming from nor who was reaching out. She closed her eyes, trying to calm down and center herself despite the fire around her, stoically following the mind stilling exercises Gwyn had taught her. Nesta let out another shaky breath and a sudden calm washed over her. She felt her heartbeat thunder in her ears, her blood rushing through her veins along with something else, something older, stronger, fiercer.

Finally, the prickling feeling left her fingers and the fire went out, taking the overwhelming darkness with it. A shocked silence had fallen over the room. Nobody dared to move. Still, Nesta kept her fists closed as if moving her hands even a little bit could rekindle the flames. She was shaking, and she was cold, she was so cold…

“I’m sorry,” she forced out, sounding much more cool and collected than she felt, “I don't know–” She grabbed a fistful of her own dress and felt pure relief when it didn’t catch on fire between her fingers. Gradually, she felt the air around her warm up again as the conversation picked up anew. When she opened her hands she found her fingernails had left tiny crescents pressed into her palm.

“Is there really no way out of it?” Elain asked, her soft voice shaking. “Could you not just… release Nesta from her oath? Then she wouldn’t have to go.” Mor shook her head but it was Lucien who answered. She heard him as if from far away.

“If it was before Eris had voiced his intent to take Nesta as support for the bargain that might have worked, but now that we know… you can’t cheat a bargain.”

Nesta tried to breathe evenly as she inspected the wounds in her palm closer. They weren't simple bruises; she had burned the shapes into her skin. Still, it didn't hurt and Nesta quickly hid her hands under the blanket before anyone else could notice what she had done to herself.

“But it could work. We could risk it, we could stall…” Feyre was nearly pleading, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. There were tears in her icy blue eyes, and Nesta was almost surprised to find she cared so much. Then again her sister cared about everyone, even her. Once more, Lucien was the one to squash her hopes.

“No, Feyre, you can’t risk it. Rhysand won't risk it. Broken bargains are certain to end in catastrophe, but a willfully ignored bargain is just as unpredictable. You remember how badly you were doing in the months after we left Under The Mountain-” Feyre winced but Lucien pressed on, “-and now with the pregnancy… there’s no margin of error for you, and Eris knows it. It's likely why he chose this moment to strike.” Nesta glanced at Rhysand for confirmation. The male had paled noticeably; once again, her sister's life was put on the scale.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Feyre asked, the hurt in her voice painfully obvious even as her mate reached out to her with his hand.

“I only found out yesterday. I'm so sorry, Feyre darling.” But Feyre pushed him away.

“Yesterday was almost twenty hours ago.”

“I know, I was trying… I was trying to find a way out of it, a way to evade the bargain, to-”

“Twenty hours, Rhys,” Feyre reminded him, her voice shaking.

Azriel muttered a curse under his breath, offering a very creative new idea on what Eris should bargain for next, and Nesta withdrew into herself as chaos erupted in the room, Cassian, Feyre and Rhysand all yelling at each other. There was nothing she could have done anyway as everyone else was dragged down the same path Eris had prepared for them.

We'll play later, Nesta Archeron. Had he known then? What had she done? What had he seen that had convinced him he needed her?

When she finally looked up her eyes found Lucien's almost immediately. The male had stayed across the room from her while the Inner Circle argued amongst each other, standing so still he was nearly blending into the wall. His scarred face bore a curious expression. A tad worried, maybe. For her? They barely knew each other. His metal eye whirred in its socket and he turned to the side, his hand reaching up to his face. Nesta could almost feel the high ‘plink’ noise reverberating through her skull as he tapped the eye once and then a second time when it would not stop moving. She quickly focused her attention elsewhere.

Amren seemed to have found a new target in Mor, who was still standing frozen behind the sofa, her dark wine-stained lips a stark contrast to her pale face.

“Well, don't stand there staring like a struck deer,” she mocked the female, throwing a piece of candy from the table in her direction, which Mor elegantly dodged, “it's not you who's going after all.” Mor opened her mouth as if to retort, her pretty face pulled into a mask of fury, while Amren grabbed some more candy to throw.

“Stop it, both of you,” Cassian interrupted sharply, placing himself between the two, “this isn’t helping anyone.”

“You can't tell me what to do,” Amren shot back, but she settled on her couch again, instead opening the paper wrapper of one of the chocolates and popping it into her mouth.

Feyre’s sudden groan of pain broke the petty arguments up right away. Her sister grabbed the back of her armchair hard, face twisted into a grimace. Her mate was at her side in a second.

“What is it?” he asked anxiously, trying to put a hand on her back to feel her pain. Feyre slapped his arm away.

“I am fine,” she said through gritted teeth. Everyone watched as they stared at each other, apparently engaged in another intense mind to mind communication until Feyre broke, turning her face away from her husband.

“Rhys, I said I am fine, I am fucking fine,” she snapped, walking a few steps backwards, out of his reach. Another wave of pain shook her and she pressed her hands into her lower back with a groan. When Lucien reached out to stabilize her, Rhysand growled. Immediately Feyre’s head whipped back to him, her eyes narrowed with anger.

“How deep do you want your grave to be?” she hissed at her husband, “Fucking keep it together.”

Silence fell over the room. The only sound was Feyre's heavy breathing, the crackling fire across the room and, of course, Amren’s candy wrappings. It lasted several seconds before Azriel finally spoke up.

“Perhaps you should discuss this amongst yourselves,” he suggested carefully, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Rest for a while. You're both burdened with far more than anyone should carry, just take this moment to talk it out.” Rhysand hesitated but Feyre nodded briskly.

“Let’s,” she said coolly, gathering herself for a moment before heading for the door without looking back. Rhys followed her much more cautiously.

Nesta tuned out the hushed discussion between the remaining members of Rhysand's inner circle pondering possible solutions that weren’t directly playing into Eris’s hands, looking for loopholes or, in Azriel’s case, the merits of murdering Eris before the bargain could be fulfilled. Nesta wasn't sure of what to do. She didn’t want to participate in the fruitless discussions and she didn’t want to leave alone. She wouldn’t even know where to go - she couldn’t make it back to the House of Wind on her own. So she waited.

Eventually Elain came to sit by her side, leaning her head against her shoulder like she used to when they were kids. Her sister's dress rustled as she tried to get comfortable. It sounded louder still to Nesta's numb brain. Elain smelled like cinnamon and apples and Nesta suddenly, ridiculously, felt sad that none of them would be able to properly enjoy whatever delicacy her sister had baked for their dinner.

“Are you alright?” Elain asked quietly, in that soft, almost sad tone she adopted as of late whenever she spoke with Nesta. Nesta barked out a laugh.

“Obviously not.” Her tone was biting but her sister only nodded.

“Figures,” she mumbled. Nesta only stared back at her incredulously. Then she scoffed.

“Some seer you are. Such perspicacity, what astute observations you enlighten us with,” Nesta muttered. But when Elain looked up and met her eyes she couldn’t help herself. They both burst into laughter, quickly hiding their giggles behind their hands to not startle the others. They might think Feyre's sisters had lost their minds at last, cackling like two crows on a branch at the misfortune of some poor fool down below. And maybe they had, only the poor fool was Nesta’s role to play and misfortune was what the Mother had woven into her life from the day she had spun the first thread of her fate.

All three of them, Mother, Seer and Lady Death herself already knew that there was no changing this path, no matter what the others might tell themselves.

Nesta was going to Autumn.

◇

Read the whole chapter on AO3

[slyvester101]

After everything that happened with Crunchbite (the bastard) and Junior’s probably horrific and painful birth, I imagine Tucker is more than a little wary about letting strangers near him.

He gets this hollow feeling in his gut when he’s around people he doesn’t know, gets an itch in his skin if he’s touched by someone he doesn’t trust. His throat tightens and his heart squeezes and his hands shake. He’s not able to sleep well around strangers, has to keep his back to the wall or else he’s waking every five minutes to make sure no one’s snuck up behind him.

He spends his whole diplomacy curled up in a ball in the corner of his room with Junior tucked under his chin, keeps his distance from the soldiers stuck on his missions and keeps them away with sharp smiles and horrible flirting that would make anyone cringe away.

At the desert temple, when he’s all alone with nothing but hostiles banging on the door, Tucker laments in how much he misses touch, misses the freedom of being able to hug someone without fear of harm, of being able to know if a touch was friendly or manipulative. He misses Blood Gulch. He misses blue team. He misses his son.

Even after Sidewinder, Tucker still isn’t in the clear, isn’t allowed some respite with his team because the latest member is yet another Freelancer who was chasing to kill them not even less than twenty-four hours ago.

His skin is buzzing the whole time they’re being shown around their new base by Caboose, his heart not settling despite the action being long over, his brain screams as someone grabs his shoulder. He screams out loud too, it seems, because the hand is pulling back quickly and a soft apologetic voice is echoing through his head.

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t fucking touch me, asshole.” Tucker all but hissed before he stormed away, unwilling to let this new prick see the way his hands shake and the way his face has gone pale.

He hates it. He hates it. He hates how he can’t even stand close to the fucker without feeling ill, can’t help but track his every movement and every word for some kind of malice or cruel intent.

He finds none.

He’s kind to Caboose, politely nodding along to whatever he rants about and keeping him out of trouble with much kinder words that Church was probably physically incapable of speaking. He’s kind to Tucker even though he’s been nothing but a paranoid asshole the whole time they’ve been at Valhalla, never taking offense to the distance Tucker puts between them and respecting whatever lines Tucker draws.

It takes a long time for him to feel comfortable enough to let Washington touch him, not quite as long to start giving him shit like he would’ve with Church. Slowly and cautiously, they fall into a groove that’s uniquely theirs and Tucker feels like he can finally breathe in his own goddamn house.

His trust in Wash is cemented when Carolina comes into the picture and constantly steps in as a barrier between the two, Washington knowing that Carolina would try to scruff or yank Tucker around for his big mouth and that Tucker would probably rip her hand off if she tried. He’s the only reason the two aqua soldiers don’t kill each other. That fact becomes undoubtedly true when Wash choses Tucker over Carolina, pointing his gun at her as she threatens Tucker.

Caboose was always a steady presence to the chaos in his head, the gentle giant sometimes being the only reason Tucker didn’t fall apart at the seams while he cried his fears into his chest, but Wash is a different kind of support that Tucker didn’t know he needed, one he doesn’t think he’s ever had.

It doesn’t stop him from getting that itch in his skin when he’s surrounded by strangers, it doesn’t stop the sick feeling he gets when he wakes up from a nightmare, it doesn’t make everything better.

But Tucker thinks, kind of incredulously, that maybe he can finally be safe with these two by his side. Maybe, just maybe, he can really let his guard down and have someone else watch his back.

Maybe he can finally let someone in.

[callsign-rogueone]

what kinks do the gfs have? all these head canons are so fun 🥰

I love all the questions!! glad y’all like them too.

I mean technically they have whatever you have but we’ve decided that they’re all lowkey their own people so…. this ended up being less about kinks and more about what they like their men to do? idk.

a few that come to mind:

Duchess: I don’t know if it counts as a kink or not, but she and Brennan have “christened” multiple rooms in Riorson house. especially the office that I’ve decided he has. they mess around there more often than in their actual bedroom. lots of potential there — one person kneeling in front of the chair, or him bending her over the desk…

Angel: how can you date Garrick and *not* have a size difference / strength difference kink. he’s a giant. him towering over you, being so broad and strong… that has perks between the sheets. she likes the displays of strength from him — him pinning her down (lovingly), manhandling her a little to change positions, etc. she trusts him 100%, which is what makes it work.

I’m not saying that Love is a pillow princess, but she’s not usually the one doing the work. she doesn’t chase, she attracts, and she knows her worth. 😌 but she is very much still in charge. she wants her boy to beg to touch her. she’ll say yes every time, but he still needs to ask her nicely, and thank her afterward, like a good boy.

Darling is a tough one. we know Bodhi basically wants to worship her every time, because he’s obsessed with her, but I could see it going both ways, too. they’re just so in love, and they want to show it to each other physically with all the kisses and gentle touches and sweet words. but as far as kinks… overstimulation, maybe. and some really drawn-out teasing — until the other person is desperate enough to beg, or to drag them away to deal with it. it’s usually Bo being teased. he gets so cute and pouty when he’s needy.

Spark… idk. she’s a little fragile deep down, despite that tough exterior, so she needs to be held gently. nothing too crazy is happening there. just some gentle loving touches, that she feels like she doesn’t deserve, poor girl. so Liam giving her praise or words of affirmation would be nice. maybe some soft kisses over her scars, too. I know those aren’t really kinks, but it’s what she needs, so…

Peach is a tiny bit devious, as you will see… someday. she’s the one dragging Sawyer away for shenanigans, not the other way around. he’s always down for it, of course. he wants to be wanted, and knowing she’s keyed up is enough to get him going. I could also see her being into the strength difference— Sawyer isn’t the strongest guy in the quadrant, but compared to us regular people, he’s definitely winning the play-fight.

yes, Sweetheart reads, and there’s plenty of things she’d like to try from various books, but she is incredibly shy and likely very inexperienced. she’d never bring it up to Ridoc — he’s gonna have to figure it out himself. but I don’t see her and Rid doing much until Onyx Storm or beyond. apologies to the Ridoc fuckers 😔✊

similarly, I haven’t even begun to write Aaric and Sunny doing anything more than holding hands. they’re gonna be a slow burn for sure. she’d need to really trust someone before doing anything intimate with them, and when that finally does happen, she needs some sense of control so she doesn’t feel like she’s being used. this is hard to explain, but iykyk.

[skylarkking]

Can you do NSFW headcanons on the Starscream clones from TFA?

*cracks knuckles*

Well I certaindidily can try

🔞 under cut

Before we begin imma start by saying that I will be using their names and their personality traits so we can get who's who. Okay? Okay.

Starting with our greedy fucker

Dirge

Look all I can say about this bastard is that he tops and only tops.

He gets his way no matter what and he will be dammed if anyone tries to make him bottom

Punk ass ends up a bottom because he's a greedy pathetic little thing

Up next is Ramjet, the liar

Will say to your face he hated getting taken down a notch

This of course is a fat lie

He likes being dominated

And let's be real here, if he's saying he hates shibari and being treated like a play thing then he is into it

Next up we have Skywarp my scared little baby

You HAVE to be gentle with him

He's a ball of anxiety and it takes a lot to get him to relax

But after a good frag session he is a giant lapdog

I mean, can't be afraid of your own shadow when you are fragged senseless

Next up we have our bad bitch Slipstream

Two words: dommy mommy

She has definitely fragged the other clones

Pretty much the only one who could pin Starscream down and make him beg for release

She purposefully annoys others because she gets off on it

Sunstorm, the ass kisser

Service top. That's it.

And we have our egotistical idiot Thundercracker

Thundercracker is Slipstream's favorite clone to put down

Even though he is hardwired to be the most narcissistic bastard ever, he gets off on being wrong and humiliated

Like, if humiliation kink had a mascot, it would be this guy

And finally we have our jelly boy Thrust

Look of he isn't getting attention he will propose a 3some so he can get action

This guy takes his name seriously when banging

Half the time he is the last to overload out of pure spite

And those are my headcannons lol

[moonlight-tmd]

Prowlbee in an a.u. where Bee's father is a decepticon, but his personality is Lucifer from Hazbin Hotel.

He shows up to visit, and everyone questions how that guy is a decepticon.

Even better- Bee's father is a literal god of chaos and destruction.

This is a good opportunity to say that i will be separating the "Unicron and Primus are Bee's parents" AU from the Crack AU. (new au and tag is #god-sparkling au)

SO- to summarize: Unicron is a spirit of Earth and Primus is a spirit of Cybertron and they can materialize into transformers to interact with stuff. Bee is their Sparkling from the time they were a loving couple (now they are divorced per se). He grew up on Cybertron with guidance of his Sire (Primus) and now is living on Earth where he has fun with his Papa (Unicron).

So i had multiple takes on how they would meet. I actually think it would happen in one of the first fights when cons fight with the bots over something and Megs hurts Bee.

They all just hear a screech/roar in the close distance seconds after Megs punched Bee real hard. Megs carries on with his evil speech to the Prime and the next moment he is hit by a mining dump truck going full speed. Then said dump truck starts to shift and tadah- this ginormous bot twice the size of Megatron pops out and he is manhandling that chopper like nothing. The cons (Megatron) barely manages to run away, the moment the autobots think he's gonna wreck more chaos and possibly try to kill them he only shouts after the flyers "AND DON'T YOU DARE HURT MY SPARKLING EVER AGAIN!!".

This was both confusing and concerning. Bee goes running to that obviously dangerous bot and-- wait, why are they hugging?

So turns out this colossal fucker is itty bitty Bee's creator.

Now you'd think he'd be rowdy, aggressive and cause trouble on every occasion. But nah, this guy is smitten over his little kid, kinda like a doberman over a tiny baby. All scary but gentle. He's also cheery and loves to joke around and he will help out anyone if his sparkling asks him to. Parenthood completely changed this guy- at least when he's out in public or with his sparkling.

I haven't seen Hazbin Hotel, I only watch Helluva Boss, but I've seen some shorts about it.

I suppose Prowl would be definitely intimidated because holy fuck that is Bee's creator and he just threw Megatron like a ball across the field. Unis (Unicron's alias) is very happy that his kid got himself someone to love. Prowl hates to admit it but he's kind of questioning whether his relationship with Bee was a good idea, he still sticks with it in the end tho.

Everyone else is just as confused since Unis claims to be the most cruel and destructive warrior in the entire universe and here he is playing with Sari and Bee so gently and carefully, he never gives anything a scrach from his big claws or spike-like armor pieces.

ALTERNATIVELY (and maybe what you wanted in the first place)- Bee still has a Sire but he's not a giant godly being but instead a sleek warframe with a monsterstuck alt (a little taller than Optimus and Bulkhead).

So one time Team Prime gets a Decepticon signal on the outskirts near some abandoned facility and goes there expecting to find Megs and his minions. They spread out to get them from both sides but...

Well, they did stumble upon a Decepticon, one with awfully familiar features in fact, but that one didn't really behave like a Decepticon... He apologized for making a mess cuz he tripped and knocked down some tiny silos when they scared him and was very awkward and asking if they could maybe help him out. He strongly denied wanting to fight them even.

Then Bee came out of the bushes with Ratchet and the two bots with horns locked optics for a single second before running and hugging each other all happy.

So turns out this stray Decepticon they tracked down was Bee's Sire.

Let's name him... Dragonfly. He was a Decepticon, one of the higher ranking ones in fact, but not partaking in any business with the war surprisingly. He was a single parent and had Bee on a neutral colony, when Bee was old enough he helped his kid to get on a ship heading to Cybertron to work and secretly help his Sire out a bit on the colony. He and Bee couldn't communicate often, he didn't know Bee and his crew had gone missing but Bee had gone without replying to any of his messages for the longest time so he knew something must have happened to his bitlet. Worried and slightly paranoid he got into his camouflaged ship and went from place to place looking for him. He was spotted by the Elite Guard's ship and shot down when he neared Earth and now he was kind of stranded until his ship is fixed.

He was very nice and polite unlike the Decepticons all of the Autobots usually met. He even took a liking to the organics and Sari when she visited the next day- she accidentally mistook the new bot for Bee cuz they looked so similar. When she learned that this was Bee's dad she was hella excited tho. When Bee introduced Prowl as his sparkmate he was surprised but very pleased that his little bitlet found love. Oddly enough, he seemed very leaning into the idea of Prowl eventually becoming part of the family.

Despite being a Decepticon, Dragonfly didn't really interacted with either of the sides unless necessary. He wasn't very happy to hear that Megatron and his troops also reside on this planet, more so when his bitty is an autobot and fighting them. He deemed it the best option to just hide and don't interact with the Decepticons here, Megatron had respect for him but Dragonfly knew he would use this for his advantage if he learned Bee was his Sparkling. He's also not happy to hear Optimus boss Bee around for dangerous missions and solo escapades. He's even more upset that this low rank is bossing around a repair crew to fight with trained war soldiers instead of calling backup from the Elite Guard. At one point he confronts him about it and states that he will not let Bee go on any of the dangerous missions and fights to potentially die and that he is incompetent for making an untrained group fight a war. So what if you have field experience and a war vet on the team? They are still untrained and not ready to fight what Megatron has in store.

Optimus hated being a low ranking Prime and did not want to sit there useless when the threat was knocking at their door. But with what Dragonfly said it might have been time he made peace with the fact where he belongs now...

And so, Team Prime becomes more neutral to the Decepticons roaming out and about (outside for the threat of human villains, Optimus refuses to leave the humankind endangered by them) and lets the Elite Guard handle most of the calls, only times they are forced to assist is when an Allspark Shard appears.

Going back to Bee and Dragonfly- Dragonfly stayed on Earth a while after Team Prime fixed his ship to make sure everything was fine. He gave a communicator to his Sparkling to call him undercover at any time, they speak to each other every week. Team Prime still doesn't know why such a kind and nice mech is a Decepticon but Bee is happy and that's all that matters. They may also gotten a tad nicer towards Bee cuz a Decepticon is still a Decepticon, and with the role Bee's sire plays it would end really bad for them if they hurt him.

Welp, you got 2 versions of the same ask, one of them surely was what you wanted so yeh. Thank you for the ask!

[astroyongie]

Wet Castle

Note: part two! San gets spicyyy and wooyoung is an adorable idiot

pairings: Wooyoung x YN and San x YN 

synopsis: After growing up in one of the most dangerous Seoul Gangs, a strange accident made you decide to cut ties with your affiliation and leave the gang you were so attached with. You moved to Itaewon, doing small works for money, until the day you met Wooyoung, a nice guy next door who worked right under a small coffee shop. You can’t help getting closer to Wooyoung, knowing fairly well that your past life will never leave you alone.. 

Triggers: smut, hard language.

Part one: here

Part Three: Here

Wet Castle

Part Two

It's been 3 months. 3 months since you have last saw San, 3 month since you have felt the warmness of his embarrass, 3 month since that accident-

San stood up from the couch, putting his cigarette on the ashtray before giving you a good look. His piercing eyes were as cold as ever, his shirt trying pathetic to hide his muscular frame behind that white cotton. You hated him. Gosh you hated him so much.

“What a shitty place you have got here.”

San said nonchalantly, taking a step towards you. You didn't bulge, you didn't breathe, hell, you didn't trust yourself at this particular moment. 

“The fuck you doing here ?” you asked, trying to hide the annoyance that creeped down your spine. If he was here, it was for some reason. For the past 3 months, he had sent his little minions to check you up. First Mingi, thinking the gentle giant was going to convince you to come back and then Yeosang who payed you up like a whore, for God knows what reason. Your bets were that your apartment was way too poor for Yeosang’s refined taste and he pitied you. 

What an asshole.

“I missed you, I came to say hi,” San murmured, allowing himself to stop in front of you. His scent intoxicated your lungs, your eyes closing as you felt his hand caressing head before resting on the side of your neck. He pulled you in, kissing your lips ever so slightly. He tasted like nicotine and a faint flavor of cherry. 

You wanted to pull away. You really wanted to rip your lips away from his, hit this jerk in the head and yell at him for being such an idiot, a fucker who ruined your life, your peace, everything you had once worked for. Yet, you couldn't. Not when his hand grabbed your waist with need, pulling you closer to his body as his tongue licked your bottom lip, before entering your mouth. 

You breathed in, not allowing yourself to make any sound from the assaulting kiss. Your hands grabbed his chest, half pulling him closer, half trying to push him away. San chuckled against the kiss, pulling away as he licked his own lips.

“Have you had dinner?” he asked, looking down at you with half lidded eyes.

“No,”

“Good thing I brought myself.”

You wanted to deny that, but hell. He was a good diner though. Soon his lips were back to your lips, the kiss more needy, more passionate, as this time you allowed yourself to moan against him. San’s rough hands went under your shirt, sending goosebumps straight to your skin. You hated to admit it, but you had missed him. 

Your mind was too hazed, too confused to even understand what was happening. Every time you kissed him, every time you felt his skin on yours you were automatically brought to the nostalgic times where you both were happy. To those torturous happy times-

How you had ended up layed on your couch, clothing missing and San towering above you, was a mystery. You hissed loudly when you felt San’s teeth biting at the sensitive skin of your neck, your body squirmin underneath him.

“When are you coming back?” San said against your skin, before lifting himself up. You became painfully aware of how vulnerable you were, naked underneath him your legs apart to accommodate him. Him on the other hand, was way too covered. San worked on his shirt and you wasted no time to go for his belt. Ignoring his question, you removed the accessory, throwing it away and hearing the loud thud as it hit the ground. your hands touching his growing groin as he groaned in warning from your touch.

“I have given you enough time” He said

“Never” you found yourself replying and he tsked. His right hand caressed your chest, before traveling higher. Without any warming, he shoved two fingers into your mouth. You protested but San didn't bulge, his eyes becoming darker as he looked down at you. His fingers pressing against your tongue.

“You are way more beautiful when you aren't saying shit, you know that?”

You wanted to bite his fingers off, slap away that look on his face. He was looking at you as if you were the worst thing that had happened to him. Fuck, you swore that it was the contrary. Wasn’t it? His fingers left your lips, still connected with a trail of saliva. San used his free hand to push your thigh further apart, making you lie down on the couch. Without taking his eyes out of you, he pushed one finger inside of you. You close your eyes at the intrusion, savoring the sensation that you longed missed. A small slap on your cheek made you snap wide awake.

“Keep your eyes on me, y/n”

“Why would I?” you asked, biting your bottom lip as his finger skillfully moved inside of you. You had slept with him way too many times, and you body had no secrets for San, he could torture you without allowing you to reach your high or he could make it happen as quickly as he wanted. If there was one thing you learned, it is that he loves to see you break apart.

“I want you to know who is fuckign you.” San admitted, lowering himself to you, kissing your jaw. Smiling as he saw your cheeks tint with embarrassment, he smooched your face with kisses. “Because if you close your eyes again, I will judge that you are thinking about someone else.” 

The statement made you smile, but soon you moaned again as the second finger entered you, curling exactly where you needed it. “Do you also think of me when you are getting your dick wet somewhere else ?”

San didn’t answer you, his blond hair falling over his eyes as he focused on fingering you. Soon, your moans echoed through the room. You fought to keep your eyes on him as instructed, but with pleasure it was becoming difficult to focus on anything else but the feeling of his fingers. 

You whined at the sudden loss of contact. You felt your cheeks burning as you watched San lick his fingers coated in your juices. Gosh, this guy was something else. He smirked as he noticed your embarrassment, lowering himself once more before capturing your lips on his. It was messy, tongues fighting one another for dominance as you attested yourself on him. You sighed in delight upon feeling the tip of his member poke at your entrance.

“Who was it?”

You opened your eyes, shivering at the darkened look San gave you. “What?”

“The guy you were with before getting home. Who was it?”

You groaned in annoyance, moving your hips up in order to get him closer to you, but San’s grip helped your body down firmly. His fingertips burned your skin, and you were sure it would leave marks.

“Fuck you San, are you here to fuck me or are you here to talk bullshit?”

Instead of answering, San shoved himself inside of you, making you yelp in surprise. Your arms went instinctively around his shoulders for support, but he was quick to slap your hands away. Before you could protest, he locked your wrist together above your head, his strong grip making you wince in pain as your body tried to accommodate him inside. You knew fairly well that he was big, but your body barely remembered how monstrous he was. 

“Fuck, wait-” You tried to warned but San didnt listen to you, instead moving his hips forward until he was buried in you. Without allowing you to take a break, he snapped his hips back and forth, picking a steady pace. Your hair fell over your face and mouth, as you closed your eyes, pain and pleasure overwhelming you, You felt another slap, harsher than the previous one against your skin. Glaring up at San, he smirked again. 

“You have become disobedient”

“Hit me again and you will lose your hand!” you yelled which was followed by a loud moan, that made you blush in embarrassment as San aimed exactly where it made your stomach curl in heat pleasure. 

“What was that?” he purred, his movements becoming slower yet so deep that you could feel him inside of you. It was torturous, it was so good, you hated it. San’s free hand found itself going to your neck, giving it  a light squeeze at first, as if he was testing the waters. You whined in pleasure, painfully aware of every parcel of his body moving against yours. You heard him chuckled lowly, his hand wrapping itself around your neck and squeezing.

Your eyes opened wide, looking at him. San had his face flushed, a grin plastered on his face as he breathed loudly. His eyes never left yours as he felt your core tying around him as he picked his pace once again. You wanted to speak, you wanted to moan, to scream at him, to hate him. But your lungs burned from the lack of air and everything became so intense. 

San pounded into you, mercilessly. It felt like a punishment, a punishment from leaving him for so long, for keeping him waiting all this time. You didn't care. You would be stronger than this. but you couldn't deny the pleasure he brought you with each thrust he gave against you.. You felt your eyes swollen in tears but you refused to cry.

“Hush, baby..” San murmured, his hips getting slower. He released your throat before kissing your puffy wet lips, licking at your bottom lip. “Slow down baby, imma bout to show you.. why you can't run from me”

What happened next was surreal. San easily turned you around, lifting your hips up in the air, using one of his hands to grab a handful of your hair before burying your face into one of the couch pillows. You screamed in pleasure against it, as you felt the new angle allowing San to go deeper into your body. Everything burned in pleasure and pain, his fingers digging your skin as he held your hips firmly at each slam of his own body against yours. Your scalp was screaming in pain at his grip on your hair. You needed to breath, yet you couldn't do much but moan pathetically against the pillow, your saliva coating the tissue. 

“Fuck.. I missed you, little one”

You couldn't answer it, closing your eyes and allowing San to use your body as he seemed fit. You hated this whole thing. You had no opportunity to kiss him properly, to let your hands roam around his tattooed body, you hadn't even the possibility to suck him off. San, this man, who hadn't seen you in 3 months and the first thing he did when he saw you again was bury his dick in you instead of talking shit out. typical. 

Every time you had imagined him coming over, a sorrow expression on his face. You had imagined him asking you for forgiveness, him crying in your arms as he tried to explain shit to you. You had wanted him to be there, to show how much you mattered, you wanted him to care for you at least once. Why were you expecting anything different?

You had known him for longer than you can remember. San wasn't merciful, he wasn't the type to put others before his needs. No, The Red Dragon was a skillful and brutal killer that took whatever he wanted from others. And that included you.

The daughter of Zeeta’s CEO. 

You felt your core tight in pleasure, the bliss upon you. Moaning loudly again, your body squirmed beneath San. He released your hair, grabbing your waist this time, pulling you further against him, each thrust hitting something inside of you that made your body shock in ecstasy. Before you could say anything your orgasm washed over you. It was hard, fast and long, curling your toes and knocking the rest of the air you had, out of your lungs. 

A long cry left your lips as San’s thrust showed no intention of stopping. The overstimulation was too much, the pain becoming way too overpowering over the pleasure. You tried to squirm away but he held you still. Feeling San’s right hand coming to the front of your neck, he lifted your body up until your backs stuck against his sweaty torso. His breathing became hoarse, rougher, the sweet low grunts making your hair stand up.

“Be good, y/n..”

Another long moan mixed with yelps left your lips as he sank his teeth into your neck, sucking the skin harshly as he purchased his own release. You felt your mind slip away, your vision becoming blurry and the strength on your body giving you up. You didn't know if it was from the overstimulation, from San’s powerful thrusts or the fact that you haven't eaten much that day that made you lose consciousness. But the low moans of San releasing were the last thing you had heard before falling into a deep state of blackness, consumed by the depth of darkness.

… 

You woke up, the soft ray of sunlight caressing your eyes. Blinking to chase the sleep away, you winced as you tried to move your body. Looking around you noticed that you were still on the couch, a blanket covering your naked body. 

“San?” You called for his name. The whole apartment was too quiet, the sound of the cars outside being the only symphony to your ears along with the clock ticking. You forced yourself into a sitting position hissing again at the pain on your backside.

It hadn't been a dream. Yet, San felt like one, as he had left no trace of himself. He had disappeared once again as quickly as he had appeared. Rubbing your neck you cursed under your breath, before noticing something laying on your coffee table. You couldn't help but gasp as you saw a gun laying there, next to san’s half empty cigarette pack. 

You reached for the gun, making sure it was locked in before confirming that it was loaded. That psycho. Why did he think that you needed this? in such a neighborhood?. You tsked in annoyance, rubbing your eyes before allowing your body to sink on the couch. His scent still lingered against your body and despised the thought paining you, you needed to wash it away from your body.

No, Y/n, you couldn’t allow one fuck to change yur mind. You couldn't. You wanted him. But you wanted freedom far more.

After your shower and getting yourself ready, you left your apartment to go to the Pirate Coffee Shop. It was Tuesday morning, and the streets weren't busy this time of the morning which was perfect. When you entered, you greeted the owner who quickly went to get your order ready. You sat at your usual spot, trying to hide the discomfort that moving your body gave you.

“Good morning”

Wooyoung’s honey voice caught your attention. You looked up at him, smiling as he pushed your order against the table.

“Hey” you said, eyeing the dark haired male. When Wooyougn met your eyes, his features changed. You raised an eyebrow as you noticed his uneasiness, his smile fading. 

“Hope you enjoy your coffee.”

The male said before turning his heels around and quickly vanishing behind the counter. You looked at him in confusion, not understanding the sudden change in his demeanor. You ended shrugging it off and focusing on your coffee. But as time went by, you tried to exchange gazes with the server, but Wooyoung seemed to be avoiding you at all costs, his smile disappearing every time your eyes met.

You couldn’t help but squint your eyes as you watched Wooyoung. He truly was ignoring you as he served the other clients, that usual smile decorating his face only when he was talking with other people. It frustrated you, this guy had tried to play heroes with you, you had kindly invited him over and now he is acting as if he didnt know you? shit, that made you ick. 

You gulped down on your coffee, before standing up from your seat. You shoved a few coins against the table before leaving the coffee shop, not sparing another look at that man. Why would you care anyway? you don't own that brat anything and he certainly did not owe you any shit either. With that in mind, you proceed to just go with your day. You didn't have much to do now that you were out of the gang, but you decided that you could make some good use of Yeosang’s money for once. With that you allowed yourself to have some take out and go shopping for new makeup and clothing. You also needed to buy some fragranced candles. San’s scent was infesting your couch and your living room, you needed to make that go away or you would go crazy. 

Once you were done with everything, you began to make your way back home. The cigarette burned against your lips, as you eyed the sky lost in thought. You stopped in the hallway that led to the backside of the Pirate coffee shop, your eyes catching Wooyoung’s figure as he was throwing away the trash into the big disposable bin.

You smirked. He seemed tired, his black hair escaping from his lazy bun and damn, he kinda looked good in those black uniforms. You didn't know if the need to tease this man came from your frustration or because you wanted to prove to yourself that San held no power on you. Throwing your cigarette to the ground, you walked toward him. 

“You finished with your shift?”

Wooyoung looked over at you as he heard your voice. You saw a faint of a smile before he changed to something more neutral. “Yeah, just finished.”

“Wanna grab a drink? I still need to thank you for what you did yesterday” You said as you finally reached him, looking up at his almond eyes. Wooyoung’s jaw twisted slightly 

“I don't know if that is a good idea. '' He said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided eye contact with you. You frowned 

“uh? Why not?”

Wooyoung sighed, looking at you. Then, he pointed to your neck, a tint blush coloring his cheeks and a pout designing itself on his lips ``Your boyfriend probably wouldn't appreciate it”

That’s when you realized it. That brat was acting weird all day because he had seen the hickeys left by San the night before. You couldn't help but laugh and Wooyiung became even more uneasy, his pout becoming a full upset frown.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yeah, I am. Wooyoung, for a brat you kinda cute you know?”

Judging by the redness of his face, he wasn't expecting the comment. “pardon me?”

“I don't have a boyfriend if that is your concern. So, wanna grab a drink or do I need to tell you about who sleeps with me beforehand ?”

You kept your grin as he mumbled incoherent words out of embarrassment. Wooyoiung cleared his throat, removing the pieces of hair that fell over his eyes. 

“Sorry, I didn't meant to come out as an idiot”

“You didn’t” you eased him “it is actually considerate of you.” Wooyoung looked at you, finally flashing you a big smile, his dimples showing which made your face relax. there was something about him that truly made you feel comfortable

“Give me 5 minutes, I will join you at the entrance of the shop. Does that sound good?”

“Marvelous” 

You said, genuinely smiling as you watched the boy hurry back inside the coffee shop. Maybe, Itaewon wasn't that bad after all.