#hopefully the ending sounds like a coherent thought

[haruniki]

Asa often thinks negatively about herself, even if she doesn't realize it. Either how her hair falls in such a bad way or the slight crookedness of her teeth, even how everyone around her seems to slip through her grasp. But meeting you was the best thing to happen to her and she isn't sure how to keep you in her grip. How you fingers treaded through her hair, reassuring her that she's wonderful and that she should be happy. But Asa knows it won't last, the nagging voice of the war devil isn't going to leave her alone until she has you.

[wbtsan]

SEX BUDDIES͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏. ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏J.YUNHO

synopsis. ever since yunho gave you an idea of being sex buddies, you couldn't really say no to him. considering the fact that he's been your longtime crush for ages, he surely wouldn't notice. right?

au. student!yunho x student!female!reader | tags. unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), make out session, sexual content, semi-public sex, dirty talk, praising, mentions of y/n, nicknames (princess, baby etc) | rating. mature | wc. 680+

authors note. i want to go back to the time where i first watched the 'wake up' performance for the first time because WHAT THE FUCK?? who expected them to do this shit? definitely not me!!

networks. @newworldnet

-

"so is that a yes?" yunho questions. yunho just asked you to become his 'sex buddy' while you're here blankly staring at him, wondering what he just said. "hello? earth to y/n?" he says as he waves his hand infront of your eyes. "huh? what? yeah! sorry my bad." you say, getting yourself out of your daydreaming. "is that a yes to become my sex buddy?" yunho once again questions. "um, yeah sure. let's just take it slow though alright?" you say. its your first time actually having sex, but you just wouldn't get the courage to actually tell him. you thought that if you told him, he would distance himself from you. hopefully this wouldn't happen, right?

-

out of all the places, you had to be in a bathroom stall. making out with yunho. how? you guys were happily shopping, looking in a shopping store for new outfits when all of a sudden, yunho just decides to whisper in your ear, "im feeling really horny princess. let's stop the shopping for a bit, deal?" he says, smirking. your face instantly turns red. "yunho! not in public!" you whisper-yelled, hitting his shoulder. "no one's gotta know about it. we'll be quick." yunho whispers. you sigh, accepting defeat and following him to one of the closest bathrooms.

-

"mmm. you're fucking delicious, like sweet, ripe peaches. you're so wet and im going to lap up every.single.fucking drop." yunho's hands pushed into her hair without her even telling him too. you wanted his on mouth on yours, but you wanted to get to taste him too. oh boy, his tongue pressed against your pink, wet pussy in just the right way. "oh yunnie, yes." your legs wobbled a little as he pushed you higher and higher. then they outright shook. another minute of having him lick and suck and her knees were going to give out under you. they'd end up as a pile on the floor. you gripped yunho's hair tight and tried to hang on. you might have too if if he hadn't made that damn sexy low growling sound. hearing yunho actually enjoy going down on you was more than you could handle. you threw your head back on the door of the stall and groaned through your orgasm, your legs giving out and your body went into overload. luckily, you didn't end up on the floor as yunho catcher you swiftly, holding onto you. "don't worry, i got you."

the unrelenting stretch drove the oxygen from your lungs, and your body involuntarily bucked and twisted as you struggle to accommodate him. "please.." you weren't sure whether you were either begging him to stop or make you come. both. neither. it didn't matter. all you knew was you craved something only he could give and you desperately hoped yunho could figure it out on his own because you could barely do something, not even remember your name because of how thick his dick was. yunho gripped your thighs to hold you in place while he withdrew. slowly, until just the tip of his cock was inside you. then he thrusts back in. deeper. faster. harder. any remaining coherence shattered as he fucked you against the door with so much force it rattled your bones.

everything blurred. your nails dug into his shoulders as squeals and whimpers poured out of you, mingling with yunho's grunts and the definitely not child friendly clapping. your entire body was on sensory overload. no matter how much you took, it wasn't enough. more. you need more. yunho's teeth grazed against your neck. "still think im boring?" his taunt whispered into your ear with a particularly savage thrust. white-hot sensation ripped through you. tears leaking from your eyes, and you bucked like an unbroken filly, wild animal. his groans fill the stall as his hot white cum fills you up. "yeah, take all that cum baby. you better keep it in you, got it?" he says, chuckling softly before removing himself from under you. "alright, hurry up. we need to continue shopping. we'll continue this later, alright?"

[masonmtxo]

Anytime you need me - Rewrite

Summary: Mason gets a call to pick his girlfriend up from the club

Words: 3k ish

Note: this is a rewrite of my first ever fic! It’s doubled in length and has been changed slightly so hopefully it’s a bit better than the original! As always, feedback is appreciated 🩷

Mason awoke with a start at the sound of his phone continuously buzzing on his bedside table. Rolling over and reaching to grab it, the time 2:06 am flashed up on the screen.

Squinting at the bright light, he flicked his messages open, clicking on your name as numerous notifications filtered down the screen.

He smiled to himself, rolling his eyes at your blatant drunkenness but pleasantly surprised that the messages were entirely coherent, half expecting you to have blown his phone up with nonsense. He slowly sat up and stretched as he clicked the call icon beside your name, eyes still too full of sleep to attempt texting you back.

You picked up on the first ring, some rustling coming down the line before he heard you speak, “Maseyyy, hiiii baby!” Your voice was slurred, a faint thumping from the bass of the club's music could be heard in the background but not so loud he couldn't hear you. Mason frowned slightly, assuming you couldn't have been inside the venue if the music was so distant.

It wasn't often you rang Mason in the middle of the night to pick you up from a night out, when you went out for drinks with friends it would usually end at a much more civilized hour, Mason more often than not acting as your taxi. But on the rare occasion you were out beyond midnight, you would avoid disturbing Mason at all costs, not wanting to wake him up when he had a match or training the following day. You had always promised to ring him in an emergency though, so his heart jumped at the thought of you potentially being unsafe.

"Hi pretty girl, are you okay?” He tried to keep his voice level as his anxiety spiked.

“Yeah baby I’m okay,” your wobbly voice echoed into his ear, “I was wondering if you could pick me up? Lana has found a random bloke so isn’t going home now. I was gonna get a taxi home because I can’t stay at hers like planned but since you're off tomorrow I figured you'd get mad if I did.”

“Yeah of course, I'm just getting ready to come and get you now,” he couldn't help but feel irritation swell in his chest and the thought of your friend abandoning you but was relieved that you had asked, “Where are you?"

He stood from the bed, walking to the chair stood in the corner of your bedroom and yanked on his hoodie and joggers that he had thrown on it a few hours prior.

“outsideeee", you giggled down the line after a pause and another rustle in the background.

He sighed deeply, coming to the quick realisation that you weren't as sober as your messages had led him to believe, "I know that baby, what club are you at?"

In between drunken giggles you revealed the name of the club that you had ended up in that night, quietly whispering down the line that it smelt like sweaty feet in there and that was why you had taken it upon yourself to wait outside.

Furrowing his eyebrows at your response he quickly grabbed his keys from the dresser and jogged down the stairs, "Wait, are you on your own?"

"Noooo, there's a man being sick next to the lamppost and I think his friend is asleep on the floor right by my feet!" You giggled, resulting in another deep sigh from your boyfriend.

"Y/n how many times have I told you not to wander off on your own?” He grumbled out as he slid into his car, his half asleep body shivering from the cold.

The call dropped for a second as he started his engine, connecting through his car causing him to wince as your voice echoed through his speakers.

"I'm not on my own baby, I just told you, I'm with new friends!"

Mason couldn’t help but laugh at your cheer before quickly remembering his drunk girlfriend was standing outside a sketchy club, "Two random drunk men do not count as friends love, where’s Lana?”

“I told you Mase, she left with a man just now!”

“You didn't say she had already left!” He chastised, “just she wasn't going back to hers.”

Mason couldn't help but feel his anger grow towards your friend, pissed off she had ditched you in favour of hooking up with a stranger from the club. Lana was a nice girl, but Mason had seen straight through her from day dot and was forever reminding you Lana’s friendship was only there until a man came on the scene. He never anticipated she would be one to desert you on a night out when you had plans to stay at hers, otherwise he would have stayed awake and kept tabs on you.

Mason sighed yet again, “please go and wait inside until I get there baby, I'll be 10 minutes.”

“It’s okay Mase, I’ll stay with my friends!” You smiled as the man on the floor beside you began to stir.

Mason could hear the man muttering in the background of the call, panic growing by the second. He didn't mean to sound so sharp, but knew it would be the only way to get you to pay attention through your drunken haze, “Get back inside. Now, Y/N."

Mason pulled off the driveway and began his drive through the quiet streets of Surrey as you mumbled down the line in protest but followed his instructions, the music now coming through the line louder and clearer than before, "Good girl, I'm hanging up now you're inside. Just wait there, I'm only round the corner."

Mason pressed his foot to the accelerator a bit harder, praying silently there were no police cars roaming the streets as he sped to your location.

A few minutes later the club came into sight and Mason pulled up in an empty space across the street. The two men he presumed you had been standing beside were still outside on the pavement, though two more men, who he suspected were bouncers, had now joined them.

Mason looked up from his phone to see your dress-clad figure stumble from the front entrance, rolling down his window to give you a wave as he spotted you scanning the road in front of you in search of his car.

Your face broke into a grin as you spotted him, quickly darting across the empty street to his car, but not before throwing a "Bye guys!" to the two partially unconscious men you had 'befriended'.

You reached his car, leaning in through the drivers window, pouting your lips to ask for a kiss which Mason granted, pressing his lips to yours in a quick peck.

"Hi baby, I missed you", you giggled into his neck as you leaned further into the car and cuddled into his warm body.

Mason reached up to stroke your hair back, gently lifting your head so he could see your face, "missed you too pretty, did you have a good night?" He asked.

You grinned back at him, slowly nodding your head and letting out a dragged out "Yesss, the best!"

"Good, now get in the car please before someone sees and thinks I'm soliciting you", he teased, aware you weren't in the nicest area and having a half dressed woman hanging through his car window down a dark street may have looked a bit suspicious to onlookers. He leaned across the car to open the passenger side door ready for you as you let out an offended gasp.

"Hey! I'm not a prostitute! I'm your girlfriend!" You laughed, lightly smacking his chest before stumbling around to the passenger side.

He hummed in response as you slid into your seat, throwing your bag at your feet with a tired sigh. He leaned across to plug your belt in after watching you struggle, giving you another quick kiss before starting his engine and pulling away.

He spent the entirety of the short drive home quietly chuckling in response to your drunken ramblings, animatedly giving him a play by play of your night's adventures.

"And then, as I was waiting to order my drink, this guy came over and I think he might've been flirting with me, Mase!" You gasped, "he offered to buy me a drink and he kept looking at my boobs, which I thought was pretty rude. But anyway, I told him I wasn't interested and 5 minutes later he was necking on with some other girl on the dance floor so I really don't think he was that interested either!"

Mason couldn't help but burst out laughing, reaching his hand across the center console to grasp your hand in his, giving your fingers a light squeeze.

“Why are you laughing at me?” You frowned, head tilted in confusion, “That is not very nice. I haven't said anything funny.”

His lips trembled as he tried to contain his chuckles, pulling your hand up to place a kiss to it in apology, “sorry baby, you're right. Did you have a good time apart from that?”

“Yesss!” You nodded animatedly, “I had to make new friends though as Lana was sitting at the bar with this bloke most of the night.”

Mason sighed in response, reminding himself in the morning to speak to you about being careful around your so-called friend. He would never tell you what you could or couldn't do, but he couldn't help but itch at the thought of you going out with just her again. His brain was in overdrive imagining the position you may have been in if he wasn't there to come and pick you up.

“I’m glad you had fun baby girl,” he kissed the back of your hand once again, holding it against his lips for a moment as he focused on the road ahead.

He looked across at you as he pulled onto the drive, innocently staring up at him with a soft smile making his heart clench at how much he adored you. Mason turned and pressed a kiss to your softly pouted lips, pecking you one, two, three times before turning to climb out the car and walk round to the passenger side to help you out. You'd made it as far as unplugging your seatbelt as he pulled the door open, reaching down to grab your clutch and heels that you had slipped off during the journey before scooping you up from the seat and carrying you bridal style up the driveway.

"Thank you for coming to get me," you whispered into his neck as he carried you to the front door, glancing back to check the car had locked as he placed you carefully on the doorstep.

"Anytime baby" he breathed against the side of your head as he unlocked the door.

The house was dark as you made your way in, the both of you heading straight for the stairs to take you up to your bedroom, fatigue setting in as the warmth of your house consumed you. You took the stairs slowly, Mason’s large hands wrapped around your waist to guide you from behind. You leant heavily into Mason's grip as he guided you through the bedroom door and directed you into your ensuite.

"C'mon baby, sit up on the counter,” he instructed, turning you and lightly lifting you from the hips until you were settled in front of him beside the sink.

He reached into the draw to his right, pulling out some wipes and gently beginning to wash away your makeup, softly tugging the false lashes from your lids as he stood between your thighs.

You stared up at him as he worked away, brows furrowed in concentration as he attempted to wipe away every trace of makeup on your skin.

You hadn't even realised your eyes were fluttering shut until the fingers that were cupping your jaw tapped lightly against your skin, "don't fall asleep on me just yet, pretty girl, you'll be annoyed if you wake up in the morning with makeup on."

You grumbled in response, eyes shutting completely as you felt your head beginning to spin, tiredness settling deep in your bones. You heard the click of a lid, flinching slightly as Mason wiped a cold blob of what you assumed was moisturizer onto your forehead, his gentle fingers massaging the cream into your skin making you sigh in contentment.

Reaching across behind you, fumbling around until you located your toothbrush and the tooth paste, eyes too blearly to properly see what you were doing. You squinted slightly as you squirted a blob onto the head of the brush, quickly wetting it and shoving it into your mouth.

"Good try babe,” Mason paused, a chuckle leaving his mouth, “but that's my brush.”

Glancing down to the toothbrush in your hand, you shrugged, continuing to scrub your teeth as he shook his head, muttering under his breath that he would just get another one tomorrow. You rolled your eyes, figuring he had shared enough of your germs throughout the years to be that concerned but settled down when he flashed you a cheeky smile.

Carefully unwrapping your legs from his waist, he ducked out of the bathroom, returning moments later with your pajamas in his hand.

“Spit,” he murmured after stepping back between your parted thighs.

Leaning to the side, you spat the tooth paste from your mouth as instructed and turned back to look up at your boyfriend who wiped the excess foam from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

Holding onto your hips, he gently slid you down from the counter and settled you on your feet, lifting your dress and slowly pulling it over your head. He worked in silence, unclipping your bra and sliding your knickers down your legs, quickly slipping his old t-shirt over your head before helping you step into your sleep shorts.

Once you were suitably dressed for bed and make-up free, he pressed another kiss to your lips and nodded his head towards the toilet, "go for a wee quick, otherwise you'll have us both awake again in an hour.”

You nodded in response, doing as you were told as Mason busied himself filling you a glass of water to take to bed and clearing away the used make up wipes. With a sideway glance, daring you to make a comment, he grabbed his toothbrush and gave his own teeth a quick refresh.

Flushing the toilet and shimmying your shorts back up, you joined him at the sink, knocking your hip into his as you washed your hands. He smiled with a shake of his head, watching as you skipped past him back into your bedroom and dove head first into the pile of sheets that had been left unmade from his previously disturbed slumber.

You sat up and watched him as he placed the glass of water on your nightstand, pulling your phone from your discarded clutch and plugged it in to charge. It was small actions like that that made your heart leap with affection for your boyfriend, knowing you would always be looked after and doted on as if it was second nature to him.

Mason stood back after helping you under the duvet, walking around to his side of the bed. Your eyes locked onto his bare body as you watched him pull his jumper over his head, admiring the way his back muscles moved under his soft skin. There was something so sexy to you about the way he undressed himself, roughly grabbing the collar of his top and seamlessly pulling it over his head, a sight that had you brain running away with itself as you thought back to all the times he had done that same action before having his way with you. The sight made you shiver and your skin heat, your alcohol fuelled hormones making your head spin.

Mason kept his back to you as he dropped his joggers over his narrow hips, sitting down on the edge of the bed to yank them off before settling in beside you, reaching to turn his bedside lamp off and engulfing the room in darkness.

You groaned in protest that the show had ended, rolling onto his chest as he laid back, gently scratching your nails across the light smattering of hair. He moaned in contentment at the feeling, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around you to pin you against his chest.

"I love you," you whispered into the dark, tucking your head into his neck, hooking your leg over his hips to cuddle into him impossibly closer.

"I love you too baby," Mason hummed, rolling himself into you so your bodies were pressed against each other, lips finding yours in the dark for a loving kiss. His lips molded against yours with ease, the kiss slow and gentle, Mason eventually pulling away to let out a tired yawn.

“We better get some sleep,” he sighed, settling into the pillow, nose brushing against yours as you had decided to share his for the night, not wanting to part from his embrace.

“Night Masey,” you whispered, pecking his lips one more time for good measure, “thank you for looking after me.”

"Always."

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS Pt. 2 ]

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A/N: Don't kill me please guysss! I started like 3 classes last week so I haven't had time to write!

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ SLIGHT BDSM ] + [ CREAMPIE ] + [ BRANDING ]

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Swallowing your pride was easier said than done. Every nerve in your body screamed to move away from Alastor, cower somewhere safe and out of his reach, even if it wouldn't do you much good. He could do as he pleased with you, demand your obedience as he saw fit, and force your compliance without a second thought.

All of that imminent control loomed over your head and weighed your chest with anxiety while the courage to speak faltered, but as scared as he made you feel, he still felt like the safest person to be around.

Sitting there, in his lap, alone with no chance of avoiding him, was personalized torture. You hadn't muttered a completely coherent phrase since he'd brought you to the Radio Tower, face burning rose red as your brows knitted together with worry and your eyes fixed on the details of his suit rather than his face. You noted how smooth and taut the fabric spread over his form; you'd always been aware of how much larger the stag was compared to you; his thighs were firm against your ass which helped spread your softer ones apart. If you so much as shifted an inch or he decided to lift his leg, your skirt would ride up and reveal what was hidden underneath. A perfect position to rut in, a prime opportunity to alleviate the ache building in your cunt, but you refused to admit or show the desire to do so in his presence.

You'd have to take care of it yourself later in the evening like always. The objective of walking out of this intense situation was your concern at the moment, and so you lifted your head to stare at him, hopefully.

“What I said earlier…” you trailed off as Alastor hummed, a low crackle coating the noise as he brought a hand to rest under his chin. You watched as he leaned back, utterly relaxed, waiting for you to continue.

The smirk on his face annoyed you, a clear sign he either found your flustered state inconsequential or laughable. It wouldn't be abnormal for Alastor to react that way; it was his nature, and your fire little crush on him wouldn't change that.

I might as well get this over with…

Your face fell into a pout, hands raising to hug your arms to ease the goosebumps rising on your skin. “What I said earlier was in the heat of the moment. You're my master, and I see you as nothing more..”

The lie stung your tongue as it slipped off, gaze hardening to mask the disappointment felt in yourself for doing so.

Alastor remained silent; an elongated beat of anticipation hung above you both, growing denser as his predatory red eyes bore into yours. “I see,” he muses, voice low and thoughtful, but his smile strained.

“You feel nothing for me at all, my dear?”

You nod timidly, counting the seconds until he lets you off his lap and allows you to leave, “Nothing at all.” You repeat, gulping a whimper down as his free hand kneads the fat of your hips. “I'm not sure I believe that, darling. You’ll need to prove it to me.”

Your eyes widen, your tummy backflips, and your hands ball into tight fists as panic sets into your bones.

He couldn't be serious?!…

“W-what? How am I supposed to do that?!” you whined defiantly, frustrated with the stag and unbearably antsy.

Now, he was toying with you. Like always, you didn't deem that fair on his part -as if he ever played by any rules.

Alastor cocked his head to the side, “Oh, I think you're well aware of how sweetheart. It's truly a matter of what you prove to me by the end.” The commotion of radio static overlapped his voice heavily, emphasizing his hidden command with demonic prowess, and your body buzzed with unbridled fear at the sound.

What the hell is he talking about?..

Wait…

Within seconds, your brain caught up to his implication, and your hips instinctively bucked forward. Embarrassment crept up your spine, written all over your face as the overload chuckled at the impulsive action.

It would help if you had forced yourself up; you should've put up more of a fight as his hand on your hip lowered to slip under your skirt and up your inner thigh. It would help if you had leaped away, ran, or done anything to distance yourself and Alastor.

Yet, all you could manage was a soft, “Please don't..” as he touched you, but your plead received no compliance. Your body betrayed your consciousness; arousal pooled on his deft digits as he pushed two past your lace panties and straight into your eager cunt. The unusual invasion had your walls clamping down hard, spasming with need as he roughly curled his clawed fingers forward, and you yelped in shock at the immediate assault of your sweet spot. You weren't accustomed to being stretched by anyone else besides yourself, used to your fingers, but constantly thinking of having Alastor’s inside of you instead.

He was anything but a gentle demon, so you'd conclude that he'd be brutal in bed, but it still overwhelmed you. “You're not convincing me very well, little one.” his free hand found your face, clutching it tight as he dragged your head up to pull you closer. You whimpered as his nails pricked your soft skin, adding to the mix of agony and amazement you felt while he stretched your cunt in an unpredictable pattern.

“I. I don't feel anything for you. I’m not lying-ah! Nngh! Mm..” you writhed in his grasp, trying to pull away but only amplifying the friction of his hand against your cunt. Alastor pressed his palm to your clit, dragging a surprised scream from you as he rubbed slow circles on it. You lost it then, mind shutting off as he edged you tirelessly, and the added pressure on your bundle of nerves collided with the fullness his fingers provided.

Alastor hovered his lips above yours, drinking in your sultry whines and bashful moans. The fear never faded from your eyes; battling the lust that threatened to take its place and seeing the conflict in your innocent nature had his blood running hot.

Ruin you.

He wanted nothing more than to chip away at your indifferent demeanor, know just how soft and gullible you could be for him, and figure out how to abuse it until your soulbinding contract extended to ownership of your body.

His cock twitched to life at the thought of fucking you, dumb; hearing you admit over and over again that your affection for him knew no bounds doused his being in pure excitement.

A growl rumbled in Alaster's chest; his antlers grew larger with every desperate moan you let out, and his ears twitched upon hearing them reach a higher pitch.

You were dangerously close to your end, thighs quivering from the force of his hand thrusting against your slippery folds, slick dribbling down your inner thighs, which created an absolute mess on his lap.

“Look where your sweet little lie got you, my dear. Desperate for pleasure and willing to whore yourself out to me to prove a pathetic point..” The coil in your stomach wound tighter as the owner of your soul belittled you; the harsh word should've wounded you and made your senses reignite, but all it achieved was bringing tears to your eyes.

Bit by bit, your self-esteem declined, dulling the pride that ruled your heart and scattering to the furthest parts of your brain as he curled his fingers forward against a spongy sweet spot. “Oh fuck!” you shouted, trying to raise your hips away from him as a dizzying high rushed through your veins, steadying yourself by fisting the lapel of his suit for dear life. Alsstor turned his gaze downward, breathing in the scent of your cum with a pleased him vibrating in his chest as the creamy liquid drenched his hand, “Never imagined a tiny thing like you could make such a mess .” He slowed his pace, milking your cunt for all it was worth, marveling at how much cum he could extract from you with just his touch.

You shivered violently, choking on wanton screams and feeling lightheaded as he continued to stretch your gummy walls. If he didn't let up soon, you'd unravel again, faster than the first time, and so with the last bit of your self-awareness, you slumped forward into his chest before pulling your head to whisper in his ear.

“Wanna feel you, please.. I'll say whatever you wanna hear. Just fill me up, please.” The hold you had on his coat tightened, your claws elongating as a feverish need built in your core again, intensifying as Alastor nipped at your ear. You jolted, whimpering as his fangs drew blood from you, and the roar of white noise died down to allow his average voice clarity as he muttered into your skin. “Begging becomes you, my dear.”

The satisfied laugh he let out burned you, consumed you entirely, and though it felt cruel to hear it, you smiled proudly.

Your desperation pleased him. That was all you cared to know or think of as he withdrew his slender, blackened fingers from your generously stretched entrance. He left you empty, dripping with excitement and purring in his ear for more.

“Mmm, sweet, you are a little one. You should have a taste as well,” Alastor lapped at his hand, tongue lazily running from the heel of his palm to the tip of his claws, savoring your essence with a widening grin before pushing a single-digit pad on your lips. “Mphm,” you whine as you suck, eyes rolling as the mixture of your drool, his saliva, and the lingering residue of your cum dissipates onto your tongue like melting honey. He watched you intently, finding your willingness adorable, “Yes, just like that little one. Give me your all…show me how filthy you can be..”

His praise was enough to make you come again, untouched but gushing as if he'd shoved his fingers back inside you. The blush on your cheeks grew, shy whines spilling past your spit-slick lips, muffled as he replaced his hand with his own. Alastors tongue found yours, forcing it to compete for dominance, though it was apparent you were far from intelligent thought, and you let him explore your mouth as he pleased.

Borboun, blood, & brimstone.

That's what the Radio Demon tasted like, and you greedily accepted one heated kiss after the next, mewling and trembling as he sunk his fangs into your bottom lip. The deliberate pain he inflicted shocked you into a stupor; blood doused your tongue and consequently coated his as well. Alastor groaned in delight as you squirmed against helplessly, fearing the taste of your blood and afraid he'd draw more of it if you didn't break yourself away from him. He let you struggle, pants tightening at his crotch, an almost painful pulse coursing through his cock as your small body tried to peel away from him.

“Careful, little one,” he disconnects the kiss, breath fanning over your swollen lips as he warns you, and fear gets the better of you then.

Alastor could hurt you.

He would if it pleased him.

You'd crossed a line into territory no bound soul should ever do with its captor.

The limits you set not longer applied, thrown to the wind as the stag turned you in his lap, ripping your skirt and panties to shreds with a pass of his claws. You watched the fabric float to the floor at his feet, unconsciously shaking as he snaked his arms around your chest and waist, hugging you close like a puppet tied to his strings. You were exactly that, a frightful little thing who could barely think straight as he reached to undo the front of his pants, pulling his cock free with a heavy growl in your ear.

Your eyes went wide, feeling his length against your Lowe back, warm, throbbing, and not a size you could take in one go -let alone for the first time. “That's not going to fit-,” He rutted against you, silencing your apprehension with a statiky groan, “Nonsense, sweetheart. You've done splendidly for me so far. I know you'll be just fine..” Alastor had lost control of his voice, letting it slip into normalcy as lust clouded his judgment, and the minuscule deviation made you dizzy.

Did you entice him that much to the point he faltered in his persona?

Fascinating.

A shallow giggle left your lips as he mumbled obscenities into your ear, switching between adamant praise and shameless degradation while his shadow tendrils materialized around your thighs. You squealed quietly as they dug into your skin, lifting you off his lap just high enough to hover your count over his cock. “Take a breath, darling,” Alastair whispered, a hint of care in his tone, and you craned your head to give him a curious look, “Why-?! Alastor! Fuck, wait!-” You yelped as his shadows pulled you down onto him with force, knocking the wind out of your chest and gradually splitting your cunt open to fit him entirely.

It hurt like hell, as if you were being ripped down the middle, but as quickly as the agony began, pleasure burned in its wake. Alastair felt it first, antlers doubling my size as his claws dug into your skin and his patience waning thin. Your creamy walls engulfed him deliciously, a feeling he could only describe as heavenly, intensifying with every resistant jut of your hips.

“S’ too much! Al, please,” you cry, out of breath and lightheaded. One glance downward, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to take much more, a small mound already visible in your stomach and your cunt squelching as he shifted underneath you. “Oh, but you feel so divine, little one.” He coos in your ear, growling a curse when you sink on his cock inch by inch, and your hands fly to grip at his larger ones that rest over your breasts and abdomen.

His encouragement rings in your ears like bells, diverting your frenzied doubts long enough for your body to be tense, allowing his shadows to bring you down.

Thank satan, I’m dead already, or this would surely be my end…

Alastor groaned loudly, head tipping back, crackling waves of white noise emitting from him as you took all he had to offer. “Knew you could do it, baby. Fuck, I’m so proud…of you,” the overload drawled lazily, smiling softly as you went weak against him, mindlessly rolling your hips to take him deeper.

To hell with thinking about anything. You found no use for it being stuffed full with no choice of escape.

You thought about him all day.

Did what he asked of you, obediently and without complaint.

Caring for him was bound to happen; craving to know what it felt like to have him all to yourself couldn’t be helped, so why deny this glorious opportunity to quell both desires?

Strings attached or not, you wanted him and couldn’t bear lying about it any longer.

A sick smile etched its way onto your face, spreading wide as you took control of your hips, setting a timid pace to get accustomed to his size. Alastor huffed a laugh, head tucked in your shoulder, fangs nipping at any skin he could reach while you slid up and down his length. It was no easy task for a fragile demoness like yourself, the little strength you had dwindled quicker every time the head of his cock hit your cervix. Yet, you couldn't stop moaning louder, slamming down harder to feel the burning stretch that followed tingles of pleasure as your warm walls committed the very shape of him to memory.

Alastor peered at your face, red eyes glowing as they zeroed in on your twisted expressions—satisfaction, pain, determination, and desperation.

He'd never imagined you to make such faces, used to seeing your usual sweet smile that could melt the coldest heart or the delicate frown you'd present when something didn't go your way. You hid a lot from others, him exceedingly, and he couldn't be you for it.

However, if this is what you looked like, delirious and nearly fucked out, he wouldn't mind seeing you express yourself in his presence.

All that need in your eyes when you levered your head back, the stars in them when he began to meet your tired thrusts with vigorous ones of his own, and the blissful scream you let out in gratitude amounted to a resolution he'd previously set aside.

Owning your soul would never be enough.

No, the radio demon needed a tangible claim to you, a mark of some sort to let every being in hell know your body belonged to him.

“Tell me, do you wish to be mine, Y/n?…” he held your gaze, hands finding your hips to slow the rise of them, and you immediately whined an answer to his question from the loss of friction. “Yes..w-whatever you want from me, I'll g-give it… hmm.” your skin crawled as the knot in your stomach begged to slip free, enduring solid strokes from the demon holding you, shamelessly covering you into another deal.

One that'd leave more than a green chain around your neck.

Alastors ears twitched at your confession, signaling his amusement, but the action went unnoticed by you as he hovered a hand over your chest. “A wise choice, my dear,” he muses, a green glow passing from your palm to the center of your chest, eliciting an intricate sigil on your skin. You glanced down, admiring the distinctive red markings on your skin, and you could only describe the sight as endearing.

He hummed as you clung tighter to him, trying to speak but giving up as he relented his steady strokes to rapid thrusts. Your mouth fell open, back arching away from his chest as you erupted into a fit of high-pitched moans. It crossed your mind for a second that the entirety of hell might hear you, that heaven might very well know his name solely from your screams, but you could care less.

Alastor did not seem to mind either, grunting and growling in your ear lowly. The tremor of his overlay shattering as his cock twit he'd inside you and his grin pulling itself taut as your slippery cunt suffocated it in response. You were close, deathly aware of it too, but intended to last as long as he did.

Intended, but ultimately unsuccessful.

“For the love of- Alastor!” you groaned incredulously, losing your grip on reality as his shadows wrapped around your knees, bringing them in close together before pressing into your chest. The new angle made you feel every vein in his cock, how it fits just right in your womb, how hard it could press into your sweet spot.

It made you delirious within seconds, your horns revealing themselves and nails digging into the back of his hands viciously as your high reached its peak.

“Fuck!” Alastor hissed, disregarding his aversion to cursing while you came, walls holding him in with a vice-like grip. A shaky whine tumbled from you as your essence leaked out, coating his comic in a thick sheen and turning cold as it trickled down your skin.

There was so much of it, more than you were used to, but it made it all the easier for him to continue slamming up into you. “M’ going to come again if you don't stop,” you mumbled dazedly, body going weak as overstimulation raced through it, but Alastor paid your warning no mind. “Then so be it, little one,” he purred, voice more profound than usual as it ran in your head. You smiled mischievously, giddy after coming down from an intense high and on the verge of another as he used you like a ragdoll.

Your delighted giggles stirred Alastor, creating a lethal combination with your unapologetic smile as he chased his release. The red markings on your chest caught his eye, dimly glowing under his scrutiny and a visual reminder to you both what this exchange meant.

You reached a hand up to trace over the sigil on your chest, shivering as he watched your fingertips gingerly graze his binding on you. The docile action drew him over the edge, buried to the hilt inside you as he painted your walls white. You writhed in pleasure, mewling softly as your stomach swelled slightly, and your thighs shook from the intensity of your reaching end in the midst of his.

Alastor inhaled sharply, radio waves humming through the air as he finished, refusing to pull out of you entirely until he was sure you'd taken every drop of his cum. The specters on your legs vanished, leaving you to slump back into his chest, and you considered falling to the floor in fear he'd put you there himself.

You were surprised when he didn't do so, opting to settle his head in the crook of your neck while trying to catch his breath for a moment before sitting straight up again. Alastor let a beat of silence pass, straightening himself up to look decent but not saying a word to you as the air of lust evaporated. You frowned, a little hurt he wasn't speaking, but primarily concerned if you disappointed him.

You went to stand up, head hanging low as you considered what to do or say, but a force tugged you back down into his lap. The mark on your chest stung a bit, only calming when you felt his arm wrap around your waist, “M’ sorry!” you quickly rushed out an apology, afraid of his possible wrath, but he merely chuckled at your sudden fear.

“There's no need to fret, little one. I mean, you no harm from here on out so long as you remain at my side..” the stag emphasized his demand by trailing a hand from the cum induced hump in your abdomen to the etchings on your chest. A timid blush rose in your cheeks as the radio demon hummed melodically, admiring his work on you as he snapped his fingers. The room was no longer stuffy, spacious, and filled with his scent.

Your eyes trailed the expanse of the new view, familiar with it despite only visiting his room once before for a few moments. It felt cozier than you remembered, or maybe exhaustion was getting to you.

Whatever the case was, you were simply happy to be in his space, perplexed by the arrangement but grateful for it nonetheless. Alastor held you steady in his arms, letting you marvel at the room as he guided you toward the nearest sofa. “You don't have a bed?” you asked him innocently, concerned that he wasn't getting proper rest, but he didn't seem to be bothered by your questioning.

“I'm not one to rest often, my dear.” he sat you down on the plush couch, smile softening as you stared up at him, ears flattening while worry clouded your tired eyes. “How do you not sleep, Alastor? Aren't you ever tried?..” you looked him up and down, blushing as he laughed, “Are you always this curious, little one, or does your special interest in me make you bolder than usual?”

“N-no, it's just that…” you paused, watching as he summoned himself to change clothes, doing the same for you with a wave of his hand. Alastor took his time addressing, waiting for you to continue explaining with a knowing smile plastered on his face.

You avoided staring at him as he changed, catching a glimpse of scars on his body as he slipped on a white dress shirt, and you swore it looked just as good on him as the red and black one he always wore did.

“Don't keep me waiting, doll. Speak.” He scolded, amused by your stalling but not a fan of unfinished sentences. You gulped, becoming skittish as his command hung in the air, but complying within seconds

“I just hoped to spend a little more time with you. Besides what we just…” you couldn't put it into words, biting your tongue at the recent memory, and you half expected Alastor to disregard your implication, but he did nothing of the sort.

“The seal I've placed on you won't allow you to leave my side unless I explicitly give my permission. If you're asking to stay the night with me, I can assure you I've already decided you'll do so.”

You blinked, smiling wide as he rested a hand on your head, petting you just as he'd done in the hotel lobby.

“I don't think I'd ever want to leave your side anyway,” you mumbled absentmindedly, leaning into his touch as he crouched down to be eye level with you, “So, it's settled then. You'll need no one else besides me, correct?”

You nod, eyes lighting up with pure submission, “Yes, sir.”

xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxx xxxx

Someone said Alastor stands when he sleeps and just stares at a wall in his room and I think that's fucking haliarous. Imagine walking in on him sleeping and he literally flinches from shock and falls backward on his ass cause he doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until someone startles him. In all honesty he is me and I'm him cause I don't sleep either. ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He’s so…corny but fucking cute so I’ll let it slide THIS TIME… also I love it when his eyes narrow like oh my god yes glare at meeee silly red takes mann! ❤️ credit to creator!

[merakiui]

Had a thought I wanted to share (CW for noncon+Yan stuff)

Idia being so obsessive and horny and making a sex doll that looks just like his darling, and using an enchanted onahole to ensure it feels exactly like them - even reacting and tightening just like them~

The one issue is that (either on purpose or accidentally) it turns out his darling can feel everything he does to the doll.

Omg yes!! This trope works so well for Idia. Not only is he using the doll for pleasure, he’s also treating it as practice for when he (hopefully) gets to fuck the real version sometime in the future. Even though creating something like this is no sweat for a genius like him, Idia feels like he’s really outdone himself. As synthetic as everything is, it’s still very soft and lifelike, functioning just like his darling beloved’s tight hole. He uses it more times than he'd like to admit, but he just can't help it. It feels too good, and there’s no way he's confident enough to talk to you in person, much less even broach the idea of dates, relationships, or sex. So this doll will have to do for now, and it certainly works wonders. It’s so warm and wet inside, and the doll's hole hugs his cock so snugly. He likes it even more because he can dress the doll up in your clothes just to pretend it's really you underneath him.

Unfortunately, there’s more to the doll than he knows.

You’re in class when it first happens, lazily scribbling away in your notebook while Professor Trein drones on about magic history. It’s the strangest, most invasive sensation. One minute you think you might fall asleep out of sheer boredom, and the next you’re jolting awake when a slick finger traces along your hole before sliding in. You’re staring hard at your notebook, wondering if that really just happened. But then another finger is easing in, and now these phantom fingers are beginning to work you open. Thankfully, that’s all that occurs. You manage to escape class right as the bell rings, your lips bloody from how roughly you bit down to silence your noises, hurrying to the washroom to see what's causing this. The minute the door shuts behind you, though, is when the fleshy head of someone’s cock is prodding at your hole. You can't see it, but it’s there and it's pushing inside, inches stretching you so slowly before whoever it is swiftly bottoms out, promptly knocking all coherent thoughts from your brain.

You’re fucked silly against the wall by an invisible dick and it takes all of your restraint not to make the lewdest sounds you can possibly produce. By the time this person has finished using you, your hole is spattered with cum and you think you might just faint from the overstimulation. Luckily for Idia he has a surprising amount of stamina when he’s in the mood. Unluckily for you, you’re going to be spending the rest of that day bedridden for…reasons. :) and he always cums inside no matter what, so you’ll be very exhausted and very filled by the end of everything.

[blorbosinmyheadcentral]

your art makes me explode in a positive way like

im chewing and swallowing it in an aggressive way like

it's just SO good im melting ilove your shading and KEHEKEBEKJDJF

anwayshi hello do you happen to have any headcanons for showtime rolls on the floor and dies

Thank you so much, really appreciate it!

Oh God I don't know if this will read as coherent because my thoughts about Showtime are all over the place. But I'll try to format this the best I can

✨Showtime HCs! ✨

Their relationship starts when they start spending time together.

(The reason why they do so could vary. In Supervised Machine Learning's case, Pomni becomes something of a "tutor" to Caine; They discover that they work well together, and the other's company can be quite pleasant!).

So Pomni and Caine build a weird, but comforting friendship, and all is well.

Then the feelings appear.

Caine is the first to realize he fell in love.

It sounds illogical but hear me out… it'd be really funny--

Ok no seriously I think Caine can actually feel. Keyword "can". He's very much still a machine and it shows in the pilot. But like his inspiration (AM), Caine is also a rogue AI. Whatever his programming originally intended him to do, he probably doesn't follow it as closely now as back when he was created (which is a whole other post).

Caine knows what love is and the extend it can go, since the Moon is so open about her feelings. He just doesn't like the Moon back specifically haha (sorry Moon) :}

All this to say, I do believe this is within the realm of possibility for him. (Not that it's ever gonna happen towards anyone in the show. These are just wishful shippy thoughts).

He might not recognize it as love at first, because it manifests in such a different way from his one reference point.

His friendship with Pomni had gone through phases.

When they first met, he continuously touched her with no concern for how she felt.

Learning from and about Pomni herself led him to come to respect her boundaries (and becoming mindful of everyone else's).

Then they're close friends, and gradually, Pomni does not mind his regular wacky, touchy-feely self. So Caine acts as he had always done before.

Caine expresses his love for Pomni with physical gestures and his undivided attention.

When they teleport to travel to other places, he holds her close so she doesn't get too dizzy; he pats her head to reassure her; he touches her arm to get her attention; he grabs her hands when he's excited about her ideas; he holds eye contact for prolonged periods of time; and he touches, and touches, and touches, and touches.

It's selfish, and so he keeps it buried in his deepest 0's and 1's. But he'd like to keep hanging out with Pomni, having her in his sight, and feel the texture of her gloved hands until the end of time.

Despite all this, to him, virtually nothing changed.

What? He's spending time with Pomni as he'd always been doing, and behaving as he'd always behaved!

It's Bubble of all people that has to point out that, "Hey boss. I think you WANT her!"

Absurd. Nonsense. Preposterous! It is merely a relationship of mutual support and affection between a ringmaster and his trusted, former-human companion. Nothing more.

(Declaring his love to her unprompted didn't ever cross his mind, so there's no way it could be that. Is there?)

Caine finds out that yes, there is.

Pomni had always been a nervous wreck, but her mind state becomes more manageable over time. She eventually adjusts to the circus life like everyone else did.

"Accepting" her fate is a different story. The will to escape, to remember, never really leaves. She's just more careful about it.

So when she starts working with Caine - to improve life so people don't go abstracting anymore, and hopefully find a definitive exit - she's not expecting to end up liking her time with him.

Not that she'd absolutely hate it, either. He's… "okay"… Just-- outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space, he keeps touching her, and it makes her die a little every time.

If he's up to listening, though… it can't be that bad, right?

Turns out that no, it wasn't that bad.

Yes, he is outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space and touching her. But she explains what she means to him, clearly and patiently, and he makes an effort to do better. An actual effort.

Sometimes he'd misinterpret what she meant - the ambiguity of human language - and the new games would go horribly. But little by little, his efforts make life overall better. Something reminiscent of actual, real life, the one they've all forcibly left behind.

And he tries, and he tries, and Pomni finds herself enjoying the process as much as the good results.

Pomni likes Caine's eagerness to learn. His enthusiastic attitude borders on silly, and the absurdity makes her laugh on occasion. When faced with the prospect of a "real" exit, she loves his upbeat optimism.

When she's not hanging out with Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble and Kinger, she begins to enjoy spending quality time with Caine.

Each one of their hang outs is a new surprise. They make a picnic in the tallest mountain exactly in between day and night. They learn to dance - while floating in the air. "Since you asked, here's a DIGITAL camera! Let's take pictures of the Void for one tenth of a second at a time!"

Sometimes he just comes by Pomni's room, and they end up losing track of time. Just chatting about how things have been, what they could be, and what to do next. Ideas and ideas and ideas.

Before Pomni knows it, she's comfortable enough that recalling his old habits makes her not dread them anymore. So when Caine stands close and lightly touches her arm due to oversight, she makes sure he knows it's all right.

And they keep spending time together, and he touches, and touches, and touches her. Pomni, in turn, feels lighter, and lighter, and lighter. Peaceful, at ease. Dare she say, happy, even.

Life is not perfect. As it stands though, it's good enough. No one has abstracted. No one is at risk of abstracting so far.

Progress is slow, but the research for an exit continues, and she is hopeful. The thought of actually leaving grows closer to reality. But a part of her feels heavy.

When it occurs to Pomni that leaving the Amazing Digital Circus means leaving Caine behind, she is alarmed by how much she'll miss him.

It'll hurt. Badly. So much the thought pains her even now.

The moment Pomni realizes this, she comes to the unexpected conclusion that she may like Caine a little more than she thought she would.

This later leads to an interesting discussion with Ragatha.

By the time Pomni comes to that conclusion, Caine is already down bad.

Neither has any idea that the other is in love with them.

Cue dumbasses trying to deal with their feelings while the potential conflict the escape brings looms over their heads.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

[xopedri]

melody.

summary. you can only go to sleep if your boyfriend sings for you.

a/n. sang-yi literally checks all the boxes i need him SO. BAD.

warnings. none!

the stress of your job had been manifesting itself in insomnia, making you unable to sleep through the night, or even at all.

your boyfriend grew worried about you, the lack of sleep clear as day on your face as well as your personality.

you were regularly taking medicine that your doctor had prescribed you, but it only ended up working for a couple hours.

this night, sang-yi was laying on his back, your head resting on his chest; the faint sound of his heartbeat audible.

he gently played with your hair, trying to comfort you a bit since he knew how hard everything was for you.

after a few moments of comfortable silence, he spoke.

“y/n, do you mind if i try something? to see if it’ll help you?” the man said, his kind personality leaking into the tone of his voice.

“yeah, of course, i’m desperate at this point.” you chuckled, sang-yi was really the only reason you were even smiling through this. the feeble amount of energy you had left could barely even form a coherent sentence.

the boy smiled at you, leaving the room for a second to grab something from another room.

he came back, his guitar in hand.

“when i was a kid, my mom used to sing this lullaby when i couldn’t sleep.” he said, sitting on the bed in a way so he could face you.

“okay, hopefully it helps.” you replied, smiling at the sight before you. you normally had to beg your boyfriend to play guitar/sing for you, now he was volunteering to do so.

he nodded, checking if it was on-key before starting to strum the guitar. the gentle melody he was playing felt familiar, yet you couldn’t quite place your finger on where you knew it from.

he hummed along for a few moments, before he starting singing.

he was a great singer, obviously. however, you had never heard him sing quite like this; in a way that felt like it was pulling all the stress from your soul.

his voice was tender, and along with the soft guitar that he was singing over, it was hard to not fall asleep to this inherited lullaby.

sang-yi laughed in the middle of singing when he noticed you curling up into a ball under the warm covers, going into the first deep slumber you had gotten in weeks.

the next day (or at least you thought so), you woke up to your boyfriend reading a book next to you, glasses on and all.

you rubbed your eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight leaking into the room from the window. “what time is it? you said hoarsely.

“12:3, you slept a whopping— 38 hours.” he said, laughing.

“jeez, you didn’t wake me up?”

“nope, you looked so peaceful i just couldn’t disturb you.” sang-yi grinned.

you scoffed, then laughed as you sat up to stretch.

“i guess that lullaby worked.” you mumbled, tilting your boyfriend’s head up slightly to give him a kiss.

“d’you want me to sing it again tonight?”

“well duh!”

tysm for reading! all likes, reposts, and comments are welcome and very appreciated!! 💕

[emiplayzmc]

I gotta make a tag for my random headcanons- Anyways ROUND THREE FOR DW CHARACTER HEADCANONS, TWISTED RODGER! Hopefully these all make sense??

———

Twisted Rodger's mind a muddled jumble of chaos, the former detective always trying to make sense of everything and anything he once knew, memories shattered into fragments that drive him insane to make heads or tails of. Constantly in the pursuit of knowledge, he pokes and prods at the minds of Toons who are unfortunate enough to be caught by him when he damages them, glancing at memories of their lives and of the world only for those memories and thoughts to eventually become too fragmented to recall a short time after. He craves that knowledge he knows he once held, but he's too broken to comprehend it all now.

He's most interested in the minds of Toodles and Glisten, should they ever be damaged by him. Some of the few things he can dredge from the depths of ichor clouding his mind are that he was connected with both of them, and when prodding at theirs he finds that they felt similar towards him, at one point in time. It makes him conflicted about wanting to hurt them. There have been a few times where he's made eye contact with the two before when they accidentally shattered the capsule, and he didn't attempt to hurt them. Merely dug through their minds a little for memories before they leave.

When thinking about himself, T. Rodger's thoughts are a *mess,* considering himself both separate from the old Rodger and the same at once but never knowing where exactly that separation starts and ends, the lines between them blurring enough in his worse moments that the normal Toon can sometimes bleed through his thoughts and be more coherent before being swallowed up by the ichor again.

Also, would like to believe that if he wanted to, he could communicate with people telepathically as long as they're in his line of sight. Many of his thoughts are cryptic and sound like he's knowing far more than he lets on even when he can't piece information he's gathered together himself. He's a great asset of information to those that could use a peek into Toons' minds, if one can figure out how to make him make sense and coerce him into even wanting to give out said information.

[gay-wh0re-slut]

Hi! Can you write some angst + NSFW ending with the prompt

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you? This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you.”

oooohohohohooo this is a good oneeee

idk if i can think of a way of ending with this but maybe somewhere in the beginning or middle/end ish? i hope that’s alright? it’ll still be angsty tho don’t worryyyy (i hope) hehe but thank you for the request!!

after writing: i kinda broke up what you wanted to be said and added a few things, i hope that’s okay

Please

content: rhea ripley x fem reader, angst, NSFW but pretty vanilla unfortch :/ sorry friends

Working backstage at WWE has its perks: getting to talk with the superstars, seeing how everything is put up and taken down, getting to go behind the scenes of the show; but it also has its downsides. You’re up late at night after the show taking everything down, cleaning up after everyone, making sure everything is put back in its place in the trucks to move to the next city. You’re always tired because of the schedule they have you on. Very rarely do you get time for yourself so you haven’t even thought of trying to have any kind of relationship.

Lately, you’ve been a bit on edge. Is it the lack of sleep? Probably. Is it the crush you have on THE Rhea Ripley when you swore to yourself you would never date a coworker? Most likely.

You’ve never voiced that you had this, but a lot of your coworkers have told you multiple times that you suck at hiding it. The way you stumble your words around her, or how your face gets red when she’s brought up in conversation, or how you refuse to talk to or about her in case of messing everything up. You’ve never had a crush last this long and it was eating you alive. It was hard to work sometimes because you would just stare, she was so captivating.

Unfortunately, one day the goth wrestler caught you staring and decided it would be a good idea to talk to you. “Hey, (y/n), you alright?”

“Huh?” your face became red, “oh yeah sorry, got caught in a daze.”

“Don’t apologize, I can tell you’re tired,” she sounded so caring, this was not helping your case, “they work you all too hard back here.”

You nervously laugh it off, “yeah, but that’s show biz.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighs, “You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, psshh! Yeah totally,” you wave her pity away landing your hands on your hips.

“I know I’m scary looking but I’m always here if you want to talk. I know how it can be, trust me,” she takes out her phone, “let me get your number in case you want to chat.”

Oh god, oh fuck.

“Y-yeah for sure,” you hesitate grabbing the phone. You shake as you type your number in, you see that she already has your name typed out with the bubbles emoji next to it. “Why the bubbles?”

“You’re always bubbly,” she says casually with a small smile.

“Right,” you smile as you hand back the phone, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“Checking up on me.”

“Us tired people gotta stay together,” she laughs, “I’ll see ya around, yeah?”

“I’ll be here!” You give her a weak thumbs up as you watch her walk away.

“God,” you groan as you begin to fan yourself. You got nervously hot trying to muster up any sort of coherent sentence. Hopefully you didn’t sound too weird, you kinda blacked out for a second. “My number?!” you whisper to yourself, “that’s crazy.”

You could barely think about anything else the rest of the day constantly checking your phone to see if she texted you. Luckily, nothing happened. You were relieved when you went to the hotel that night and saw that she hadn’t texted you because that meant you couldn’t mess it up. You kept telling yourself that this was a silly crush that will go away soon…but you’ve said that for the past three months.

You didn’t realize the time until you heard your phone ding at 2:43am.

hey, it’s rhea

Of course her texts are all lowercase. You lay staring at the screen. Do you answer? Do you lie tomorrow and say that you actually fell asleep?

hey! what’s up

You decide to text back, what’s the use in lying, you thought.

i knew you’d be awake

you caught me

these hotel beds aren’t the best for people who can’t sleep huh

idk mine’s pretty comfy

Was that flirting? You weren’t sure, but hopefully she didn’t take it that way. The last thing you need is for her to start having a crush on you.

damn, you’re lucky. maybe i should come sleep with you then haha

Oh no, what do I say? Yes? Is she joking? Surely she’s just joking…fuck.

if i’m lucky again, maybe the next hotel we can share a room

Oh yeah good save…totally not flirting.

sounds like a plan

good. well i’m going to try to sleep hopefully

me too, we both have a long travel day tomorrow

goodnight ripley

sleep well (y/n)

You’ve only just realized that you’ve been cheesing at your phone this whole interaction. She’s taken over your entire being.

It was now 3:15am and you had a flight at 7:30am, so you might as well just lay there with your eyes closed in hopes of getting some sort of rest.

The week has passed, it was Monday again. Though the show starts at seven at night, crew had to be there at ten in the morning to make sure everything was ready before the stars showed up at two. You and Rhea hadn’t texted much, just some hello’s here and there with a few how’s your day’s, though she was on your mind constantly.

As the time drew closer and closer for the australian to walk through the door, you avoided that door at all costs. You tried to do anything to get you away from her path to her dressing room. Sweeping, wiping, snacking, literally anything.

“How’s the bed?” her accent flew threw the air behind you.

“W-what?” you turn around quickly.

She meets your gaze and stops a few feet in front of you with her little booty shorts and big tshirt, no makeup with her beefy arms crossed, “did you get lucky?”

You widen your eyes as you were taken aback, trying to process what she just said for a good few seconds before you realize what she was talking about, “oh!” you sigh in relief, “sorry! Yeah, no, got the lumpiest in the whole building probably,” you chuckle.

“Damn, seems like we switched sides this time around-,” she smirked.

You cut her off before anything else could happen, “Ha! I guess so,” you take a carrot from the snack table and chomp down, “I- uh… gotta go mop… th-the back hallway, see you later!” you lied. You basically ran away from her. You’ve already mopped that hallway… twice. Something about her in the shorts and tshirt made you so nervous.

Time went on, the show went on, the audience left, and luckily you’ve avoided the buff goth the whole night successfully.

“Hey, (y/n), Rhea’s looking for you. She’s in her room,” one of the PA’s said, nervously, “she seems a bit upset.”

Oh no, was all you could think. Repeating it in your head with every step, getting louder and louder, until you finally reached her door. You take a long deep breath before knocking lightly.

“It’s open,” she yelled through the wood.

So you walk in, closing the door behind you, you stand right behind the threshold not wanting to go any closer. She was already back in her tshirt, but this time she was wearing sweatpants. Her makeup was still on though with her hair rough with sweat.

“Are you avoiding me?” she asked bluntly.

“No,” you answer a little too quickly.

“You sure? Cause it sure does seem like it,” her arms crossed with anger.

“I’m pretty sure,” you lie again.

“Then why haven’t I seen you all day?” she sneaks closer to you.

“I’ve been…working, it was busy today,” you step back.

“You just so happened to be extra busy today,” she stood wide in front of you, basically pushing you against the door.

You couldn’t think, she was so close you could smell the faint cologne she put on earlier that was left on the shirt. You settle for a small nod, holding your breath, hoping she would take that as an answer.

She didn’t, “I don’t believe you,” she growled.

“Well, I-”

“What? You think you can be friendly one day and the next you just completely ignore me?” she threw her hands up in surrender before landing them on her hips.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute, you could barely breathe, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t thin-”

“Yeah, you didn’t think. You didn’t think how I would feel, did you?” she stepped back a little as she turned away from you shaking her head.

You didn’t dare say anything.

A few moments passed of her staring at the wall with her jaw clenched and you plastered to the door deciding whether or not to make a run for it.

She dropped her chin to her chest with a big sigh, “look,” she started calmly, which was scarier than earlier somehow, “being me,” she gestured towards herself turning back to you, “it’s hard to make friends, so when you were one of the only people that were nice to me I thought we had something going.”

“Rhea…” you drop your guard, but only a little.

“Please,” she held her hand up and you shut your mouth immediately. “I try so hard to be nice to everyone. I’ve been betrayed so many times it’s hard to let the walls down.”

Now you’re the one stepping towards her in hopes of creating some sort of comfort.

“I don’t want to be let down again,” she admits.

“I understand,” you whisper.

She didn’t take the comfort, “How could you? Everyone loves you! I’ve never seen you not make a friend. You’re so nice and caring,” her voice raised again. “So when you didn’t talk to me all day, I knew it was something I did. And I can’t bare to have another ‘friend’, ” she air quoted, “leave me because of…me.”

Your heart sank at her words. You did think of her as a friend except you wanted her to be more than a friend, which was the problem. You scoured your brain thinking of something to say that would make her feel better, until it clicked.

“You think I wanted this to happen?” you finally say.

“What?” she barks.

“I like you, Rhea, a little too much actually,” your heart was beating indescribably fast.

She just stared in surprise.

“You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you?”

“In lov-” she began to question.

“This is why I knew I shouldn’t have gotten close to you. I would’ve gotten too close and I was afraid that you wouldn’t love me back,” you finally admit with a sigh. Your eyes begin to form tears but you try your best to suck them back in.

The purple eyeshadow blinks. Without a second thought, she rushed towards you grabbing your face, pulling you in for a deep kiss. After a few seconds, you push her away. Piercing blue eyes were just as surprised as yours as if she didn’t know she was going to do that either.

Still holding your jaw, “I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t hav-”

You pull her back in by her waist to kiss her once more. Your lips moving gracefully against hers. You knew the black lipstick was smearing, but you couldn’t care less. She gently walked you backwards towards the door with a small push to pin you against it. One of her hands found its way to your back pulling you in as close as possible. Heavy breaths filled the room as lips continued to dance.

Her hand sneaked its way to the button of your pants, “can I…” she panted.

You nod your head, “mhmm,” you whine, as you go back to kissing her.

She swiftly undoes the button and sneaks her hand in, but not in your underwear. She was gently caressing your center, when small moans fell out of you. Her free hand grabbed your neck and tilted your head to the side to allow her to kiss your neck, leaving black marks as she went.

“Is this okay?” the accent whispered.

“Yess,” you breathe, “do whatever…you want to me.”

“Oh?” she kisses up your neck between words, “how about…I just… give you a taste… of what could happen…then later…I’ll show you…what I can really do,” by now her pace has quickened and the familiar knot in your stomach is quickly being untangled.

You could only nod your head in response, not wanting to moan too loud in fear of someone hearing you from the other side of the door. Your lips catch hers once more as you whine into her mouth.

It didn’t take long for you to almost come undone. Your hips were slightly riding her hand as she moved perfectly against you, “that’s it, love, don’t hold back,” she held your neck a little harder than gentle, secure against the door.

The oxygen left your lungs and the knot finally loosened as you slammed your head against the door. “Fuuuck,” you moan. Your legs were weakening by the second as she tried her best to hold you up. You scratched your way down her back as she chuckled in your ear at the slight pain.

As you came back to earth, your lips met hers a few more times before she removed her hand and buttoned your pants back up for you.

She let you catch your breath still holding you against the door but her hands were now at your waist with most of her body flush with yours. “Now, do you want me to come to your room or you come to mine?”

“I thought you had the nice bed this time,” you breathe.

“Oh yeah,” she smirked knowing what the answer was already, “my room it is then. See you there,” she kissed you once more before removing herself from you. She grabs her bags and gestures towards the door.

You open the door and let her through, following behind her. “I’ll meet you at the hotel, I have to grab my stuff,” you walk the opposite way.

“Don’t take too long, or we’ll be up all night,” she winked towards you.

“See you soon, Ripley.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Cruella De Vil x AFAB!Assistant!Reader || Smexcerpt

Plot: You find out what your dumbass co-worker has been doing to further her career- you decide to take a leaf outta that book.

Warnings: Smuty. Employer/Employee. References to pussy eating. Unedited.

Imagine walking up to Cruella De Vil's office to hand in some of the designers' works for her to review, all enclosed in a pretty leather-bound folder with straps to tie it closed, and when you approach the door you hear...

Well. Noises.

Immediately your eyes widen, like, oh fuck is that?-

Moaning!??

And what the h e l l is that... wet sound??

The door is ajar. Casey, Cruella's other assistant, was always sloppy about things like that- you did not understand why that whiny little bint got all the good tasks. Going to fancy parties and shows with the Mega Bitch while you stayed in the office doing paperwork. Going through the designs with the Mega Bitch while you got them coffee and dinner orders-- even though she s u c k s at her job!! You are objectively way better, you have the eye just like Cruella does and the confidence to speak up to her. All the designs that Cruella ends up picking, you pointed out. All the outfits Cruella wears so successfully to those events and shows?? YOU PUT THEM TOGETHER!-

... But now, peaking and seeing what's inside the Mega Bitches office- you finally get why.

Your mouth falls open, seeing Casey on her knees under the huge folder Cruella's flipping through- and between her legs. The moans are from her, Casey, and the wet noises??

Those are coming directly from your bosses cunt.

... God. Damn., you think, eyes wide and partly outraged.

If that's what it takes you certainly could've fucken done that!! And better, too. If Casey licked pussy as bad as she did everything else but where a skirt, you knew you could do it better.

Holy shit-

~

The next day you get yourself totally worked up in the bathroom during your break, right before Casey's; ever-so-slowly rubbing your clit between your folds, over your underwear. You got your pussy unbelievably drippy- and you did it thinkinh about the Mega Bitch, your horrible boss, Cruella. Who woulda thought?

Then you slipped off your stockings, sent Casey for her break, grabbed the designs you forgot to hand in yesterday due to the boiling hot career outrage (and, alright, lust- ) with shaky hands, and headed confidently (Determindly) to Cruella's office.

Knock knock, "Ma'am? I have those designs."

She doesnt even look up from her paperwork, speaking surprisingly coherently around the cigerette stick tucked between her molars. "Mhm, you know where they should go Y/N. Hurry up and put them there and get out- I need a coffee. Now."

"Right." Awkwardly, you set them down in the organiser tub labelled designs. When you don't leave after that, instead hovering at her desk (nervous, and unbearably horny), Cruella rolls her eyes, groans, and straightens up with an irritated gait.

"?? Coffee?? Now?? Where bloodywell is it!?" She snaps, such a familiar tone to you. Hopefully that will change, after this, you think with an eye roll.

With that thought, enough to push you forward, you carefully rest your hands on the desk; Leaning down and speaking lowly to the woman. "... Look. I saw what you had Little Miss Short Skirt doing in here, yesterday."

If you expected Cruella to be surprised, ashamed, or flustered in any sense, you were wrong. Good thing you weren't expecting that. Not out of her- you've been her assistant long enough to k n o w the bitch. In the face of your revelation, Cruella just raises an undaunted eyebrow. "... so?"

"I think you and I both know I'd, uh, how should I put this?... perform that particular task, better." Feeling the heat still throbbing inside your underwear, you go on. "And- and I want to."

"... you do?" Cruella sounds deadpanned and uncertain; disbelieving. After a second, she rolls her eyes and goes on, looking back down at her work. You're losing her. "Y/N, I thought you were a serious girl. You took your career seriously. I know that, and so-- that's how I've been treating you. You have potential, don't squander it."

She thinks you have potential?!! She wouldn't say it if she didn't believe it, so- Then how bloody come she's been giving you all the g r u n t work!????-

You know what? Whatever. Keep calm, keep going.

"I won't. I would never." You admit. It's true- you wouldn't do anything to jeopardise your future (Fashion is everything to you and you will make it in the industry.), but you would do anything to make it. "... that's why I'm doing this."

Then you slip down to your knees on the floor, creeping under the table and between the older womans thighs.

It's funny, you've known her so well for so long (as her assistant) it feels half natural to be doing this finally. Like it was building up to this, your lips on her glistening cunt; Your tongue inside her.

It's evident she feels the same, because its no time before her clawed fingers dig into your hair, scraping against your scalp, dragging you deeper against her pussy.

[stairset]

Aight now that I've slept a bit and am less tired and have had some time to think about it, here is my hopefully coherent enough attempt to get my thoughts across on the Degenerate video, because I'm The Starset Guy and this is like the first major controversy they've ever had and even I have concerns about it and thus feel the need to get my thoughts out there. Cut-off for those who don't wanna scroll past all this cause it ended up being kinda long:

So first off just to get it out of the way: the song itself is great, as is to be expected with Starset. Vocals great, lyrics great, etc. No surprises there. Now to the actually controversial part, the music video. If you even wanna call it a music video, the video title calls it a visualizer instead but whatever. Semantics. Not the point.

So yeah, to start, I'm not exactly a fan of AI "art" for well, all the reasons everyone else has already brought up about it. But as other people have pointed out, in the case of this video there ARE some nuances to its usage that are worth discussing before jumping the gun and canceling the band. So first I'm actually gonna defend it a bit by going over the artistic intention behind it, then also point out the reasonable concerns that people have with it in spite of that intention.

So, I know this band. I know the lore and the narrative and the central themes and all that. The band's story centers around how technology shouldn't be abused by greedy corporate shitheads lest it ruin our society. Literally just a few months ago they released a book where the main antagonist was an AI that gained sentience and tried to enslave humanity. I'm not parasocial enough to pretend that I Know Dustin, but I know what he's about. And he's smart enough that I have to believe he didn't just make a move like this for no reason with no self-awareness. So yeah, I 100% get what the intent is here. As Dustin has said and others have repeated, the AI usage is clearly meant to be "ironic" and satirical, which becomes pretty clear when you actually watch the full video. Essentially it's using AI imagery to make fun of AI images. Real "I used the stones to destroy the stones" moment I guess. Lyrically, the song itself isn't SPECIFICALLY about AI, but it definitely is a big criticism of modern consumerism and commercialism in general, essentially talking about how we feel the need to stuff our faces with corporate-produced shit while our society is slowly falling apart around us. And while AI certainly isn't the sole problem there, it has certainly become a notable aspect of that larger problem, so it makes sense to satirize it to get the larger point across. The visualizer is gross and uncanny to look at on purpose. And it's clearly not trying to trick you into thinking it's NOT AI or anything, not trying to pass as something an actual human made with their own hands. It doesn't want you to be impressed by the visuals, it wants you to be disturbed by them. I compared it to the video for Linkin Park's "Lost" from last year since that was also made with AI visuals and as much as I also love that band and that song I'm still not exactly a fan of that particular choice. But the reason I bring it up is because I do think there's an interesting contrast in how it's being used in these two videos, as with the video for Lost it really did feel like it was using AI just for the sake of using it, riding the current trend, whereas here with Degenerate there's at least an actual reason for it, a reason that one can at least understand even if they don't like or agree with it.

Apparently Dustin's also said that they did pay artists to make the images for the specific purpose of running them through the AI for the video, though didn't really elaborate beyond that. But just based on what we know it does sound like these were consenting artists who knew what they were getting into here and were compensated for it. So it's not like it's a case of just stealing art or trying to replace actual humans to save a few bucks or anything, which is good since that's obviously one of the main concerns with AI in general.

There's also the fact that, as much as I don't like AI shit, the harsh reality is it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Personally if I had a magic button that could indefinitely halt all development on AI stuff until I can be sure that everyone will use it ethically and not abuse it then I would definitely hit that button, but the fact of the matter is that, for better or worse, it's here, it exists, and it will continue to evolve and be used. We can't just un-invent what's already been invented. And I'd argue that specific, limited, one-off uses like this are probably just about the most ethical way to implement it. Though of course I personally would rather this STAY a one-off thing, I absolutely do not want this kind of thing to become like, a regular thing for them. Or a regular thing in general.

But of course this video doesn't exist in a vacuum, there are other nuances here. Because as still more people have pointed out, using AI to make fun of AI is still using it. It's not like the video is in a completely neutral position, just commentating on the situation from afar. Even if it's making fun of AI, the fact that it's using it to do so means it's still feeding that AI, it is now another step forward in the evolution and proliferation of the thing that it's criticizing. One could argue that they maybe could have found a way to poke fun at it without actually using it. There's definitely a certain irony to be discussed in Making Fun Of The Thing By Doing The Thing. Is it being clever and meta? Or is it lacking forethought? Or maybe it's a bit of both. I don't know. Either way it's not exactly the best look, regardless of the intention and thought process behind it. Insert Torment Nexus joke here.

And although I SAID earlier that the satirical intent is pretty clear, it might not be clear to everyone. Even if the video isn't MEANT to set a precedent, it could unintentionally set a precedent anyway by inspiring copycats. Because unfortunately some people are simply too stupid to get obvious satire, especially if they're the ones the satire is aimed at. So it's entirely possible certain people will just see the trippy weird AI visuals and either won't realize or won't care what the the purpose behind them is and will just want to do it themselves because they think it's cool. And then THAT raises the whole question of "how much should you blame the person who made the satire for people being too dumb to get it, especially in cases like this where the satire is incredibly unsubtle and on the nose?" But then that's getting into a whole 'nother topic entirely so I'm not gonna dive into that.

And then of course there's other concerns like how research has shown that AI has a negative effect on the environment. As far as I know THAT particular concern hasn't been addressed so I don't know if they even considered that, but if they didn't then yeah, that's pretty irresponsible and lacking forethought.

There's also just the matter of personal preference, like even if you get that it's satire you might just think that it's not very good satire which is a fair opinion to have. Like personally I just didn't even really enjoy watching the video despite knowing full-well what The Point of it was.

So, in summation, taking all these points into account, I don't think that this particular usage of AI tools is THAT bad. I might even go as far as to say that it's like, fine I guess, at least in isolation. I think many assumed the worst before it came out but I don't think it's worth suddenly denouncing the band or going all "well actually they sucked the whole time and I totally never liked them anyway" or anything like that. Though I'm sure some people will start doing that. I'd say this is a somewhat questionable but not-too-egregious move, that there are legitimate concerns to be had and that I do share those concerns, and as I said I don't want this kind of thing to become the norm for them or for any other band, but I also don't think we should immediately conclude that the band has been Ruined Forever or anything. This kind of thing is a slippery slope, so I guess all we can really do is hope that Dustin doesn't end up falling down it. But that's my take on the whole thing. Maybe I'm being fair and nuanced and unbiased. Or maybe I'm just a hypocrite who's bending over backwards to give my fav the benefit of a doubt. I don't know. All I know is I just wanted to get all this off my chest at once so I can hopefully stop thinking about it and just enjoy the song on its own.

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: emeto :(

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

HEY ITS CHRISTMAS TIME SO I GIVE YOU HURT/COMFORT? KINDA?

part forty-four

❝ THE PLAGUE ❞

TUESDAY — OCTOBER 11 — 5:21AM

BENTLEY WOKE UP FEELING REALLY, REALLY BAD.

As soon as the slightest bit of awareness came to him, he couldn’t help but groan in protest. His head was absolutely pounding, making the small strip of light shining through the ajar bathroom door into the dark dorm feel like it was slicing right through his skull. Everything seemed to ache and hurt, from his fingertips down to his toes, and his stomach was absolutely killing him, like he was being stabbed over and over again.

And for a few minutes, he couldn’t make coherent thoughts about it; he just sort of laid there in agony. Just yesterday he’d been fine, they’d celebrated his birthday and had a grand old time, and he’d felt good all day, and all of a sudden he felt like he was on death’s doorstep?

When he could make coherent thoughts, the first one he managed to have was thinking through the symptoms listed by Chloe and the school. And the next one he came up with was: Oh shit.

He probably had it.

He moved to reach for his phone, which was laying probably only a foot away from him, but as soon as he did a fiery pain ripped through his muscles, searing down his arm and rippling across his body with such intensity his head spun and he ended up biting his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

“Asten,” He half whined — his voice sounded normal enough, but it was so loud that it boomed in his ears and immediately made his headache triple. He curled up tighter on top of his sheets with a muted wince. He hadn’t felt this bad since… the Synchronizer after effects, probably?

Asten never responded.

Simply peeling his eyelids open hurt. Looking around the room hurt. Focusing on the cracked bathroom door hurt. 

There were socked feet like visible through said door, like someone was lying on the floor inside. 

He had a vague suspicion who that someone might’ve been.

He took a deep breath (that also kind of hurt) and looked back at his phone, the short distance it was across the mattress seemingly mocking him. 

He thought about calling Bellamy, but through the haziness of his mind he realized he didn’t want to get him sick. Hopefully it was just him and Asten. Somehow.

His eyes flicked up when the socked feet in the bathroom moved, and not ten seconds later, he heard the telltale sound of Asten retching.

Which wasn’t great, because suddenly he was really nauseous, and he fought through the searing agony tearing through his muscles to get off of his bed and into the floor, just barely managing to kick the bedroom trashcan up closer to himself. Every subtle movement made his body feel like it was imploding, and he didn’t even realize until he was sitting against his bed with the trash can in his lap that he was crying about it. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in so much pain. Maybe when his father poisoned him at the warehouse; when he’d felt like his whole body was on fire.

He lost the thoughts almost just as quickly as they’d come, and the next time Asten retched, he did, too. 

Once his body had completely expelled everything that dared enter it for what had to be the whole month, Bentley just laid down on the bedroom floor, and he stayed there.

—

Misery.

Complete and absolute, unbridled misery.

Bentley didn’t know how long he’d been in that same spot on the floor. He didn’t know how many times he’d puked, either, but it had to be over, like, ten. He could only manage to keep himself conscious for, like, thirty seconds at a time, his whole world turning into some whirlpool of blazing agony and puke and concerning amounts of unconsciousness and nothing else. He couldn’t think enough for there to be anything else.

(Okay, there was some crying, too — but that just sort of happened on it's own. Luckily, right then, he didn’t think he was. Maybe.)

He thought the bedroom door may have opened once, but he wasn’t sure. If it did, no one came in, and he doubted Asten went out. But he didn’t shy away from the fact that he very well may have missed a whole human being passing by him. He wasn’t exactly in his peak observational state right then.

He had no vague feeling for what time it was, or for anything, really, other than the fact that he was pretty sure he was going to die.

One of the times he emerged from his unconsciousness so his body could again purge itself of anything that even thought about existing within it, he heard voices coming from the living area. He couldn’t manage to recognize them, but he knew he knew them.

The next time he emerged was because someone laid their hand on his forehead. The simple contact made what felt like lava explode inside his skull, and he made a sound that would probably be embarrassing were he more lucid.

“Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t know-”

It was one of the voices from the living area that he knew but didn’t know. It drove him to peel his heavy eyes open for the first time in a while. The simple action and the light that hit his eyes (still only shooting through the bathroom door) made his head throb, and he winced as the pain seemed to radiate through his whole body, so he squeezed them shut again.

He was on his bed. If he thought about it really hard, he vaguely remembered forcing himself back up on it in a painful haze an unidentifiable amount of time earlier. The trash can that he’d caught a glimpse of in the short time his eyes were open was still beside the bed and cleaned out, which he definitely hadn’t done.

As he finally registered that maybe he should respond to whoever was in there with him, he forced his eyes open again. He blinked once, twice as everything swam into focus, somewhere between a wince and a cringe becoming his temporary resting face as the terrible and horrendous lights from the bathroom tripled his headache again. (How many times could it get worse?)

Someone’s head was hovering above his, looking down at him with a mixture of concern and pity. He blinked twice more before he registered the purple and black hair.

Vera?

He thought about asking her something, but he didn’t have any time before he was very suddenly leaned over the side of the bed wincing in agony, throwing up in the clean trash can for the millionth time with little to no warning. His entire body exploded with pain at the sudden movement and he thought he might pass out, but this time, he didn’t. He just ended up flopping down on his bed when he was finished, with reflex tears streaming down his face and the very odd wish that he could become one with his mattress.

The only thoughts he could formulate in that moment were how bad he wished he was at home.

The bed dipped where Vera sat down near his feet.

“You’ve all got it bad, huh?”

Bentley didn’t say anything, nor did he look at her. He just closed his eyes, half to stop the light from stabbing him, half to stop the crying.

“I think you’ll be glad to know, though, that Bellamy’s not sick. He’s actually the one who called and told us about the rest of you,” She spoke softly, though Bentley really only understood about a third of her words. He managed Bellamy, and not sick, which was good enough for him.

“Summer and Layla are both here, too, but I got stuck taking care of you two,” She snickered, glancing at the bathroom door, her attempt at humor falling flat. “I made Asten a nest out of blankets in the bathroom.”

Bentley said nothing. He just curled up tighter in his blankets and closed his eyes with a soft sob he had no dream of stifling in the state he was in. He’d never felt more like he was going to die in his whole entire life. And that was saying something, considering the train wreck said life had been so far.

He felt Vera’s weight lift off the mattress, and the simple movement sent a ripple of fire through his body, not as harsh as when he moved himself, but still nearly agonizing. He didn’t react much besides digging his left hand into the blankets hard, gripping them so tightly his knuckles probably turned white. 

A few seconds later, something shimmied into his hand and between his fingers, sending a wave of dull, fiery pain through his arm that faded after a moment.

He took the risk of peeling one eye open, and he caught a glimpse of a small hand with black painted fingernails intertwined with his. Vera was now stationed on the floor near his head, next to the trash can, but she didn’t seem to mind. She stroked his thumb with the pad of hers, which burned, for a few moments, but as the contact drew on, it didn’t hurt so much anymore.

Bentley sighed lightly, closing his eyes again and letting himself drift off into another barely unconscious sleep.

—

The next six times he woke up, it was to puke, which, at this point, was nothing more than bile and acid that only made the whole process burn ten times worse. The bed felt like sandpaper, pricking and burning at his skin, and he was so hot but so cold all the time now. He was still struggling to make thoughts, and when he drifted into consciousness for what he assumed would be another turn at throwing up lava, he was pleased to find that, while he was still nauseous, he wasn’t in danger of getting sick. (Yet.)

He looked over at the window. It looked dark outside, which meant it was night. Which meant he’d been woefully sick all day long and had only been conscious for a grand total of, like, thirty minutes over the course of the day. Vera wasn’t next to the bed anymore. He guessed she was with Asten.

He thought about moving just a little, but decided against it. Despite the fact that his bed felt a little like pins and needles, he was relatively comfortable, and he didn’t dare risk losing that.

So he just… didn’t move. For a while. But he did stay conscious for more than, like, fifteen seconds. Which was.. good?

He glanced across the room at the bathroom door, and there was a quiet whooshing sound coming from it like the toilet had been recently flushed. He glanced at the curtains again, and then at the bathroom door, hoping Asten was okay, and then at-

Oh. 

Bentley hadn’t realized the whole time, but Vera was still there. Somehow. He could still see the black painted fingernails intertwined with his, though she wasn’t next to the bed, and his foggy brain couldn’t seem to actually make out where she was.

“Hey there, sleepy,”

He turned his head, earning an explosion of fire in his neck that he immediately regretted.

Vera’s head was hovering above his again, but upside down this time, and closer. She looked tired. Which was expected, if she’d been in there since the morning. 

A few moments of silent blinking later, and Bentley finally managed to put together two and two.

His head was on her lap.

“Still feeling like death?” She questioned. He felt something brush his hair off of his forehead, but it was gentle enough that it didn’t seem to cause pain.

He didn’t dare nod, so he settled on: “Mhm.”

Vera sighed. “I wish I could make it better.”

That’s about when the only real, rational thought Bentley had had all day long dawned on him.

“You’re going to get sick,” He mumbled. His voice felt foreign to his ears, quiet and sort of hoarse from throwing up his entire digestive system. 

Vera smiled, and then she shrugged carefully, as not to jostle him. He could still feel something moving against his hair — her hand maybe? — but it was so soft it didn’t burn. “I don’t mind.”

Well, he was sure she would mind when she woke up feeling like he felt. But, for now, he just settled on accepting the gesture.

“Hey, this is the first time you’ve woken up without immediately puking your guts out, though,” She continued with another shrug. “So I guess that’s good.”

Bentley hummed absentmindedly, his eyes trained on the slats of Asten’s bunk above them. And after a few minutes of nothing, Vera yawned, and he glanced back at her. 

“You don’t… have to stay,” He tried, struggling to formulate sentences through his hazy brain.

Vera shrugged a third time. “Maybe I want to.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “You look tired.”

“Hey,” She said with a playful smile, cocking a brow at him. “I’m not the one with the plague here. Quit helicopter mom-ing me.”

Bentley said nothing, but glanced back at the slats in the bed. 

An unidentifiable amount of time later, and he was gone again.

—

The next time he woke up without throwing up, enough to comprehend his surroundings, the sun was up again.

He turned his head to glance at the bathroom, pleasantly surprised when the fire in his muscles wasn’t half as bad as last time. He vaguely remembered that — that the searing pain Varian had been in had only lasted maybe the first two days of being sick, and the rest was just… being sick. Literally.

The bathroom door was cracked, and he could see Asten’s feet again. He sort of wanted to check on him, but he’d be a liar if he said he felt ready to do anything close to getting out of his bed.

Bentley did find it within himself, however, to stretch, which did send pain rippling across his body, but not half as bad as before.

And that’s about when he realized that something was around his neck. With a glance down at whatever it was, he caught sight of pink sleeves, and two hands with black painted fingernails.

He glanced up. Vera was still where she had been, sitting against the wall, but she’d slouched significantly since the first time he’d seen her, and turned sideways — now, she was more laying than she really was sitting. His head was on his pillow again, and her knees were against his back. (Which was good because with all the laying he was doing, he was sure her legs had been asleep.) Her head and shoulders were braced uncomfortably against the wall, and-

She was asleep. And she had her arms around him.

She looked peaceful. Her face was just… not exactly blank, but content. Her breaths were quiet and even, and she was so close to him that if she took a particularly deep one, it blew the hair on the top of his head.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it all, and he couldn’t really think enough to decide. For now, he was grateful the searing pain was done, and that he was having an okay moment, but he knew what came next, too, thanks to Varian. 

About a week’s worth the worst stomach bug anyone had ever had in their life.

But that was a problem for future Bentley. For now, he just let himself drift back into a peaceful slumber.

--

tag list that KINDA works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[rosettyller]

How the minisodes/flashbacks serve to inform Aziraphale and Crowley's frames of mind, and their decisions in 2x06: a meta

part 1: victorian minisode [tag]

I'm sure other people have talked about this a lot, and I did touch on this in my meta here, but all the same, I'd like to sit down and actually get all my thoughts on the matter out somewhat coherently.

I think some people have had some difficulty accepting Aziraphale's decision at the end of 2x06, so it's really a good thing that these flashbacks - which appear to be all from aziraphale's point of view - were including, as they provide a lot of context to aziraphale and crowley's relationship, and why they chose what they did.

The minisode begins right after the intro; before the intro, we have Muriel visiting Aziraphale (and Crowley) to spy on them.

(Please excuse Muriel's blink here, kmplayer was being a nightmare)

It's already been pointed out by many people how this is basically the same as police spying on / targeting queer people, which is again reinforced in the 1941 minisode.

But it brings to the forefront of Aziraphale's mind Heaven and Hell's surveillance of them, which is quite explicit in the Victorian minisode.

Beginning with Aziraphale's bookshop and shots of his diary establishes it is his flashback.

Crowley and Aziraphale are meeting up for a date casual meeting. There's no pretence of business, not even the Arrangement. They're beginning to feel safe(r) in their relationship - it's been almost 6 000 years, and they haven't been caught.

(more under the cut)

This minisode is more focused around morals, and it's set up straight away:

Elspeth wants to keep herself and her partner alive. If she doesn't do this, they're dead, and she's not actually hurting anyone.

Crowley likes causing a bit of trouble, and furthermore, he understands her position. He doesn't agree with the Don't Do This Because God Said So, and sees a) a person not hurting anyone, but doing what they can to survive and b) someone willing to do anything to save someone they love

Aziraphale still thinks like an angel; God decides what is Good, and Bad, and God decided graverobbing is Bad. But Aziraphale isn't saying "stop doing this, you're going to hell because you're bad", he's saying "stop doing this, if you continue you're going to hell, because it's against God's will." he still thinks she can be redeemed.

Throughout this minisode, Aziraphale has big Main Character Energy (and Crowley had big Love Interest Energy), challenging Aziraphale's morals that he learnt from Heaven.

As is the case with all the couples in Good Omens, Elspeth/Morag parallel Crowley/Aziraphale. Morag worries about Elspeth being condemned to hell, just as Aziraphale did.

Crowley and Aziraphale have their conversation straight from the books, about people who are poor having more opportunities to be good.

Apparanently, some people are saying this is OOC for Aziraphale, but I disagree. I think it sounds like exactly the kind of thing Heaven has said, over and over again, something Aziraphale believes because Heaven is Good, and because he wants to believe it, that those who are impoverished have a chance. (I had anther thought here, but I've forgotten it. Hopefully it'll come back to me.)

[Brief cut to Aziraphale & the yellow Bentley, Crowley's matchmaking attempt, then back to the minisode.]

Aziraphale miracles the corpse, in an attempt to prevent Elspeth from sin. However, this means she loses money that would help keep her and Morag alive. We can see from Crowley's glare here that he's not impressed - that Aziraphale would take away Elspeth's choice to risk hell to keep herself and Morag alive.

Aziraphale, Crowley and Dalrymple have a conversation in which Dalrymple explains he's doing it to help people, and Aziraphale starts coming around to his point of view, running out of reasons to argue with it.

Look at Aziraphale's face when he finds out the tumour was a seven year old boy's, and that he died. He's horrified, and then he looks like he's about to cry. (Not screencapped here, but he glances in Crowley's direction, and Up)

His hands are shaking when he hugs the jar to his chest.

Dalrymple reinforces again he's just trying to save lives, and then:

Aziraphale looks down, thinking over what he said, thinking about the dead boy.

[Back to present, Aziraphale arrives in Edinburgh.]

Aziraphale is delighted by his revelation, and shares with Elspeth that it's alright now, because it alleviates human suffering.

In voiceover/diary, Aziraphale states, "Having realised the error of my ways, I resolved to assist Elspeth and wee Morag in their noble quest to decrease human suffering."

This reflects Aziraphale's rather black-and-white view of the world; they're no longer sinners, but heroes, rather than just two girls trying to survive.

When the watch is alerted, Aziraphale opens a tomb to help them shelter. He's committed.

Crowley sends the watchmen down a hole. Rather more severe than Aziraphale's reaction.

Morag dies while Aziraphale is busy giving a big speech on how he's going to save her.

I've spent a lot of time thinking about the purpose of this (not Morag's death itself). The only conclusion I've arrived at is it's making a point about how even if you have a Realisation, and you change your mind and your morals, that doesn't undo the hurt you've done in the past. But I don't really like that.

Upon the suggestion of Elspeth taking Morag's body to Dalrymple, Aziraphale is horrified.

Note how Crowley is in the dark, Aziraphale in the light, while Crowley is the devil on Aziraphale's shoulder, whispering in his ear.

This challenges Aziraphale's newfound Realisation, bringing it closer to home.

(Crowley spends a lot of this minisode lurking in the dark behind Aziraphale's shoulder)

Crowley is decidedly less active in this minisode than Aziraphale, but here he goes big (literally), and saves Elspeth from suicide. Not Aziraphale, the angel.

Crowley brings up sinning again, and suggests to Aziraphale that he give his money to Elspeth, as it's what she needs to live a good life. (Aziraphale's stil a bit iffy at first, but he gives it)

I think this reflects, to an extent, Aziraphale's lack of initiative - he doesn't do things (or isn't supposed to) without Heaven telling him to. Such as the way they limit his miracles. He's not able to see a person suffering, and miraculously fix their life. And while Crowley is watched, and restricted, Hell certainly don't complain when he comes up with the brilliant plan on his own that secures them lots of souls (eg. Spanish Inquisition, French Revolution).

And then we have the lovely moment, Aziraphale reaching for Crowley and guiding him, Crowley saying, "Where are you?"

Aziraphale's hands on Crowley's hips - they do physical contact now

Their positioning is reminiscent of the Wall Slam scene.

And we know Crowley didn't have to drink it - he could have miracled it away, poured it on the floor, whatever. And it definitely did affect him, and yes it was funny, but Crowley's dialogue here reinforces why he did this: Hell is watching.

(and now here's the part where I actually get to the point of this meta. in case you've forgotten, it's how the minisodes provide context for the Final Fifteen)

Heaven and Hell are watching Aziraphale and Crowley - we know it's constant, if not always active, from the Earth Observation Files photos of them together in S1.

And Crowley is aware of this - has he been caught before? Anyway, he has an excuse (that can be verified) all ready to go if he's recalled to Hell.

(I also think it's a bit of a defence - in the Wall Slam scene as well - because Crowley disagrees with Heaven's definition of Good)

When Crowley gets dragged to Hell, Aziraphale is left alone in the cold, dark graveyard.

His voiceover, "And that was the last I was to see of Crowley for quite some time," reflects that this diary entry is written some time after Crowley was taken, and they've since met up again. This means Aziraphale has had a long time to (over)think about what was done to him.

What Aziraphale sees is, Crowley is good. He does good things. And when he does good things, he needs to disguise it so he can excuse it to Hell. And when he fails in that, he is punished by Hell.

Why wouldn't Aziraphale want Crowley back in the fixed Heaven? Where he can help people in safety, without fear of punishment?

And if he can learn, why can't the other angels?

[saints-who-never-existed]

Harry Goodsir for the ask meme!

This is another one that's been sitting in my inbox for an age so apologies for that. Hopefully my deranged ramblings are worth the wait!

First Impression

I found him a bit pathetic, if I'm honest, and not in an endearing way...! 😬 It wasn't even his personality so much as his lack of agency. It seemed to me that he just sort of let shit happen to him and allowed himself to be walked all over without appearing to take much of an active role in his own life.

That's a quality I find difficult to respect...

Impression Now

I've definitely grown to appreciate him more over time, although I don't know if I'll ever be as ride-or-die for him as I am for many others.

I appreciate that he's not nearly as passive as I first thought, and I appreciate his ever-increasing levels of sarkiness as the show goes on. I appreciate also his intellectual curiosity and passion, even if the way he expresses it is sometimes tone-deaf and naive.

And honestly, as weird as it may sound, I actually appreciate how ground down he gets by The Horrors? It puts me in mind of that Vonnegut quote that gets bandied about so often - "Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate..." We know that there remains softness in Goodsir but in some weird way I actually quite like that he lets the world harden him and the pain make him hate, at least to some extent?

Favourite Moment

Building on the previous two answers, I of course have to choose E09's incredible "Do not ask me again." scene.

Not only does Goodsir clock on to and block off immediately the angle at which Hickey is attempting to drive, the script emphasises that he is completely unafraid as he does so. Honestly, it's the sexiest fuckin' thing he does in the whole show!

We see quite quickly that his hand is forced in the end (or rather, Hodgson's hand is forced off-screen), but I still think it was important for Goodsir to stand up and stand his ground anyway. It matters to me that he showed that agency. And it couldn't have happened in the first place, I don't think, without him having shed so much of his softness and let the world make him hard.

Idea for a Story

No doubt it's been done already but I like the idea of a survival AU specifically involving Goodsir and his brother(s).

As we know, his younger brother Robert journeyed twice to the Arctic to try to find him so I'd be interested to see the consequences of such a mission being successful.

It's one thing to go so far and not be able to find the person you're looking for, it would be another thing entirely to find him and for him to have no desire or intention of coming home with you.

Unpopular Opinion

Another shipping-related one I'm afraid, but I don't see the big appeal of Goodsir/Collins?

Again, it's just an anti-Benoit Blanc meme for me - "Makes damn sense. Doesn't compel me, though."

Also, he should've been Scottish!!!

Favourite Relationship

Definitely his relationship with Silna.

As relationships between an indigenous person and a coloniser go, I do think that the showrunners succeeded in writing it with sufficient nuance overall.

There's tremendous respect and even some degree of love from both parties. One of the last coherent thoughts Goodsir speaks aloud concerns Silna's safety and wellbeing. And the heart-shattering expression of grief from Silna when she sees what's left of him at the Mutineer Camp speaks volumes without speaking at all (Nive Neilsen the actor that you are!)

But of course they can never fully step out from under the shadow of empire and I think to some extent that they shouldn't be able to, that that influence should never be glossed over or ignored.

Favourite Headcanon

Mostly I just like to imagine specific relationships that would be super fun to have seen more of on screen.

I think Goodsir and Blanky would get on really well, for example, given the chance. They're both passionate about the natural world, interested in and appreciative of Inuit culture, and both are shown to actively give a shit about Silna's welfare specifically.

I also think more of Goodsir and Tozer would be really interesting to see? Tozer we see has some degree of interest in the scientific endeavours going on aboard so that's some immediate commonality. I more often like to imagine a scene in the Mutineer Camp, though.

Tozer apologising in some private moment, expressing regret over all he's done and realising that it never should've gotten as far as it has. Goodsir's softness breaking through again, maybe expressing some sympathy for Tozer like he did for Collins, maybe even providing a shred of physical comfort by bandaging up Tozer's poorly hand? Just a good commiseratory "Yup, we're fucked." from both sides really.

[whumpzone]

Please give us Col waking up to Jaffa snuggled up against him in the middle of the night and having lots of FEELINGS about how Linden treats both of them. They both have struggles that others might not, both need extra help and compassion sometimes. Both don’t serve a defined “purpose” but are loved and cared for and valued anyway. Also, lots and lots of snuggles.

enjoyyy :-)

-

Col's first coherent thought upon being woken was I must have left the door open.

On another day he might have jumped straight to fear, and the absence of it was like a soothing balm. Some things were benign. Not everything was because he had messed up. Jaffa just wanted to visit.

He could indeed see a sliver of light coming through his door, which he had closed but not latched, and that Jaffa had made short work of pushing open with all the determination of a lonely cat.

Col always slept curled up, and Jaffa was currently kneading his thighs through the duvet, turning him into a pillow. He liked it. It made him feel special, even though he was sure she'd have gone into Master's room if his door was open.

Once she was satisfied, she flopped against him with a small smushing noise.

The weight of her small body was like a furry anchor, complete with body heat and a heartbeat, all keeping him safe in his dog bed.

Ahh, Jaffa. She wasn't the perfect pet- well, she was, without a doubt, but there were plenty of things she had trouble with. Col had seen her miss a step while going down the stairs, and thank goodness it hadn't been a terrible fall. She had skidded and caught herself quickly enough, but Master was still pleased when Col told him. Her bad eyes again, he said. Hopefully that had taught her to take extra care, or else he might need to put in a stair gate. The thought of Jaffa being locked downstairs made Col's chest feel tight.

Col didn't have bad eyes, but there was plenty of him that didn't quite work as intended. Just like Master helped Jaffa get up on the couch if she was struggling, Master helped Col come back out when his memories started taking him away. He helped Col pick up his cutlery and walk on two legs. God, Col was lucky that his owner was good to animals.

Even though it was self-indulgent, Col liked comparing himself with Jaffa. She was a creature on the receiving end of so much love.

He slowly pushed a hand from the safety of his cocoon and let it sink into her fur. Her purring was so loud, he would have given anything to bottle it and keep it with him forever. It was something he could pin his mind on, so it wouldn't run wild in the long hours of the night.

As he fell back asleep, his stream of consciousness turned from a heavy rainfall to staccato drops. Jaffa, imperfect, damaged, I'm damaged, and she's loved, and I'm, I'm, I'm...

The next morning, Col woke up before his Master. He could tell, since there was no sound of the kettle boiling or the radio playing. On his way to the bathroom he paused, noticing that Master's door was half-open.

Huh. Jaffa had wanted Colton after all.

[ofmermaidstories]

I love u thank u sm for making still falling for you! the way you write is soooo beautiful and I want to say that thanks to the fic, I have the song on repeat! (SS FOR PROOF!) I keep imagining and wondering what's in store for the reader and shouto while listening to the lyrics and I just keep falling in love with the fic!!

also omg the first chap?? I CANT BELIEVE WE GOT INTRODUCED TO KAGAI (?) that bitch! I WISH HIM HELL!!! OMG I CANT BEGIN TO FORM THE WORDS!! The way SWYR and SJLT bleeds and shows itself in SFFY just makes me gasp and gosh I love your writing so much!

The pining and the tension and the words left unsaid in the first chap?!?!? I DIG IT!! thank u so much again hopefully I'll be able to form a more coherent thought next time!! hope you had a fantastic weekend! 💕

rey. 🥹👉🏽👈🏽 hi!!! thank you so much for reading it!!! i hope YOU (🫵🏽) had a fantastic weekend. 🥺🥹 STILL FALLING FOR YOU BY ELLIE GOULDING SUPREMACY !!!! 📣🙂‍↕️ the week leading up to posting the first chapter i had it on repeat, LOL. 🥹 trying to hype myself up. 🥹🥹

but—yeah, kagai. 🥹 he worms his way around in SFFY, unforch. and honestly!!! finally being able to tie together SWYR + SJLT into SFFY is like, a dream. it’s payoff!!! i’m so excited for every tiny, medium and large connection to SWYR and SJLT. 🥹 my personal favourite is coming up in chapter two—it’s not a big one, but for me it’s like… one of the core tenets of all the fics, together. LOL. i’m making it sound so serious, it’s literally just like, a throwaway line or two but—these are the things that end up mattering, i guess. the things you have to find fun it. 🥹👉🏽👈🏽📝

the pining is here to stay for a while i think. 😌 it’s hard out there!! especially when you’re half in love with a beautiful man who’s probably never known normal non-superhero connection in his life. 😩 but i think they’ll make it through….. eventually. 😌🌈🏙️