#i experienced something like this once...

[loverafey]

first !   bsf!rafe x virgin f!reader

          ꕀ warnings - smut, lots of kissing, fingering, rafe's a softie and just so gentle with his best friend :( wc -  2.5k.

sitting beside rafe cozily while he was sprawled on his bed, scrolling away on his phone, your eyes read over the words printed on the book you were holding, a peaceful silence lingering in the air.

he had invited you over to spend the night, just a simple innocuous sleepover even, not admitting that he’d gotten a little bit too lonely in this house that was too big for a single person. sarah usually spent time with john b now, wheezie was away for a few weeks to spend time with their grandma while he was here handling all the work — maybe he should also buy a nice apartment for himself. maybe that’d be less lonely.

you were a bit too invested into the plot, some cheesy romance novel that you were somehow enjoying. cliches were not that bad sometimes, after all. you found yourself unconsciously smiling at all these events happening to the protagonist, a foreign ache blooming in your chest. envy? or perhaps just mere curiousity, you’ve never had a decent experience with dating, after all.

not even a first kiss, and it embarrassed you greatly.

almost everyone you knew was either already dating or experienced in this field, and no matter how much you tried to hide your lack of knowledge, it was clearly obvious. you weren’t innocent by all means, the book in your hands was evidence enough, the scenes already accelerating to something more heated. though reading such things sometimes felt like a self sabotaging method because it always left you craving something similar.

your eyes drifted over to rafe, watching the neutral expression adorning his face, one arm folded under his head while his other hand held his phone, scrolling through whatever. you couldn’t help but take advantage of the fact that he was not looking at you, admiring the way those plump lips of his were parted, his hair freshly shaved into a buzz cut. despite your initial shock when your best friend had revealed this new style of his to you cheekily, you loved this haircut on him a lot. everything looked good on him, though you’d rather not admit that to anyone, especially not him.

his eyes were half lidded, your heart skipping a beat as you watched him unconsciously lick his bottom lip, blood rushing to your cheeks, the book in your hand long forgotten. why was your body even reacting like this, so eager to memorise every inch of his face?

“staring a little bit too much, aren’t ya?” his calm voice broke you out of your trance, earning a soft gasp from you as you quickly looked away, the action of no avail. he’d already caught you.

“nope, just zoning out.” it was clear that you were lying. he noted how you were a little bit too squirmy, avoiding his eyes — flustered. he couldn’t help but feel a smirk rising on his lips, sitting up on his bed as he put his phone aside, all of his attention now pointed at you.

“you’re lying.” he scoffed, leaning forward.

silence once again fell within his bedroom, short yet tense. you could hear your heartbeat getting louder in your ears, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down.

“rafe, have you ever… kissed anyone?”

what a foolish question to ask, of course he had kissed many times, even you knew that, fumbling your words out in the spur of the moment. though the ways his eyes widened made you go still, realisation replacing the confusion on his face almost as quickly. he snorted, his head falling back as he nodded. “‘course i’ve kissed people. haven’t you seen me?” he asked, cockiness lacing his words.

you rolled your eyes, pursing your lips shut while trying to ignore the fact that you were a little bit too aware of the heat on your face, shrugging your shoulders. “i-it’s… it’s just…” fuck, you couldn’t believe you were actually doing this. “i haven’t… y’know.” you kept trailing off, looking anywhere and everywhere but at him.

he hummed knowingly, staring at you intently. he obviously knew that — definitely not because he always kept close tabs on you behind your back — always surprised that no one had kissed you or swept you off your feet yet. lucky him, he supposed, it was exactly what he’d wanted for a while now. “i know.”

“you do?” you gasped out, though he didn’t let you feel ashamed, his hands soon grasping yours, gently intertwining your fingers.

“i think everyone does.” he snickered, causing you to whine in protest, not even able to swat his shoulders gently since he was holding your hands. “but why’re you bringing it up, huh?” he feigned innocence.

he was so frustrating, obviously knowing that you wanted to try kissing him, especially due to the way your eyes kept trailing down onto his lips, your own lips parting slightly, as if wondering what it’d feel like to kiss him.

the thought of being your first kiss made his heart flutter in the best way possible, every little dream of his about you aching to come true. but still, it was funny to mess with you and watch you stutter while trying to not make a mess of yourself. you were just so damn adorable.

“i was wondering… if maybe we could try it.” you mumbled quietly.

“try what?”

only if you could punch him. “kissing…!” you squeaked out, already regretting your words. what if he’d reject you, never look at you the same again?

“should’ve said that sooner.” he whispered, making you realise just how close he was to you as he leaned forward, his hands pulling you in front of him, soon moving up to cup your face, the tender action making your fears melt away.

“want me to be your first kiss, baby?” his voice was more hoarse now, eyes glimmering with need as he stared down from your eyes to your lips, and then back up at your eyes that were staring at him so dreamily, feeling you nod hastily.

he soon closed the distance between you both, pressing his lips against yours. he was slow and gentle, not wanting to freak you out as you clumsily kissed him back, your fists bunching his shirt up as you clung onto him, feeling his head tilt slightly, his lips parting and moving against yours, swallowing up your surprised little noises.

it felt so good, better than you’d expected from all these novels that you’d been reading. his fingers were neatly tucked behind your ears, not minding that you were leaning forward obliviously, just wanting to be closer to him.

“c’mere.” he grunted against your mouth, that noise alone making your heart go all giddy as he pulled you up to sit on his lap, letting your hands leave his shirt as your arms wrapped around his neck, continuing to kiss him. you couldn’ believe you were kissing your best friend.

he reluctantly pulled away after a while, knowing that you had to catch your breath, eyes drinking in the sight of your panting softly, your lips all wet from the kiss. from the kiss he gave you. he found himself grinning like a fool, pressing a few more kisses on the side of your mouth, hearing you giggle.

“not too bad for a first kiss, yeah?” he asked, earning a hum from you as you snugly sat on his lap, feeling his hands hold onto your waist, fingers slipping sneakily inside your waist, rubbing your sides in light circular motions, just a shy away from the waistband of your shorts. you didn’t mind, staring at him with wide eyes, your breathing quickening at the feeling of his skin against yours.

“what’cha thinking about?” he asked, beginning to press light pecks on your jaw once he felt that you were comfortable enough.

your throat tightened momentarily, chewing on your bottom lip as you looked down, shaking your head, feeling your ears unbearably heat up once again. “nothing.” you whispered too quietly. he tsked, one hand reaching up to gently grab the side of your face, tilting your head towards his.

“just…” you cleared your throat. “just wanna do more.”

“more?”

“y’know what i mean!” this time, you did swat on his shoulders, causing him to chuckle as he nodded.

“mhm, i know. my baby wants more.” he felt your legs spreading a bit more by his hips, your body squirming on his lap. “ever touched yourself?” he asked, rendering you surprised by his rather crude question.

“yes. doesn’t feel really good… i suck at it.” you huffed, not wanting to give the details of how you awkwardly stuck your fingers inside you or tried to rub yourself, either going too fast or too slow, always failing to reach the peak.

“oh no.” he cooed mockingly, his hand gently resting on your stomach through your shirt, his eyes finding yours, softening up. you looked so shy when your confidence was all drained out, it made him want to kiss you all the more greedily. but not yet, that’d be too fast. “want me to make you feel good?” he asked, genuine.

your eyes widened, wondering if he was joking or not, though the way he was staring at you and touching you with so much care made you want to swoon, nodding after a few seconds.

“use your words, baby.”

“yes…” a smile found its way to your lips, his hands swift to shift you around so now you were in between his legs once he parted them, your back resting against his chest. you giggled, your thighs squeezing shut while he pressed soft kisses on the top of your head and then your nape, his hands gently roaming over your torso through the fabric of your shirts, caressing away through your breasts, causing your breath to hitch.

“lift your hips up, cutie.” he ordered, to which you eagerly obeyed by leaning up so he could tug your shorts down, groaning audibly at the sight of your panties. “fuck, always wanted to see you like this.” he confessed, taking down your panties too, putting the clothes aside, not letting you see that he snuck your panties into the pocket of his sweats.

“really?” you whimpered out, feeling his hands gently guiding your legs open, your back trying to lean more into his chest. his fingers snaked down, palming your pussy, your hips already twitching at the foreign touch.

“fuck, you’re so wet.” he couldn’t help but groan, pleased as his fingers swiped through your slicken folds, gathering some wetness. he was hard, his cock eager to jump out of his pants but that was a matter for later, some other day. today was all about you.

carefully, he begins to circle his fingers around your clit, feeling it pulsate due to his feather-like, almost teasing movements. you moaned out blissfully, eyes flying shut as he continued to rub your clit, your skin tingling at this newfound feeling.

“feels good?” he asked, earning a hum from you, his head resting on your shoulder, almost nuzzling against your cheek. his other hand went from gently caressing your thighs to in between your legs. “want my fingers in you too?”

“yes…” you mewled in ecstacy, lips parted in awe as your legs stayed spread, aching a bit though the pleasure coursing within you made it easy for you to ignore that. one hand focused on your clit while the other spread your folds apart, a finger teasing your tight hole, your hips trying to buck forward.

“so eager. all of this is f’me, yeah?” he was breathless, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses against your ear as you nodded, whining out something incomprehensible that seemed like a ‘yeah’.

his finger soon pushed into your pussy, feeling your squelchy walls squeeze around his digit eagerly. fuck, you were so tight, it made him want to stuff you full of his cock to see how prettily you’d stretch around him. he begin to gently move his finger around you, the other hand not ceasing its movements, fingers continuing to rub your clit.

“rafe… rafey!” you tilted your head, eagerly gasping out the nickname only you’d use on him, your lips trying to find his. he indulged, kissing your lips once again, sneaking in a second finger inside your pussy, beginning to thrust them in and out. his fingers were nicely long, reaching in and probing against your sweet spots that you had convinced yourself didn’t exist. it all felt so good, your wetness leaking onto his fingers and probably dirtying his sheets too, the pleasure from both the simultaneous rubbing of your clit and his fingers fucking your pussy made your body writhe, feeling all sensitive, getting closer to the edge embarrassingly quick.

every pretty noise you were making was muffled against his mouth, feeling all hot and needy, something building up in your stomach. “i-i think m’gonna cum.” you fumbled over your words after pulling away from the kiss.

“keep lookin’ at me.” his fingers continued to thrust in and out of your pussy at a steady pace while rubbing your wet throbbing clit, his hands a mess, eyes staying locked onto your glossy ones. your breathing quickened as you felt your peak approaching, crying out once you orgasmed, cumming all over his fingers, walls clenching around him impossibly tight as your body convulsed. his fingers didn’t stop rubbing your clit until you were a limp mess in his arms, panting softly, all warm and fuzzy.

he gently pulled his fingers out, proudly looking at them before moving his fingers to your mouth. “lick it f’me?” he asked softly, your brain melted into mush as you opened your mouth to suckle onto his fingers for a while until he pulled them out. comfortably sitting you up, he cradled your face and pressed a kiss on your nose, watching you smile doppily, just so happy.

“wanna get cleaned up?” he tilted his head, causing your brows to furrow.

“but… what about you?” you asked, looking down at the tent formed in his pants. his cheeks reddened at your observation, shaking his head as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

“don’t wanna go so fast on you and freak you out. someday later, okay?” truth was that he knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself, claiming you as his as soon as he’d fuck you properly, letting his obsession unveil. he promised himself that he wouldn’t do that — not yet at least — wanting your first time to be gentle with him taking his time with you.

and you’d be looking forward to it.

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

With his romance with Lavellan, Solas learned a horrific truth—that him simply as a humble man was enough to be lovable. He had been plied out of the Fade by Mythal because of her need for him, and out of devotion, he became something more and dreadful for himself, for her. And she never reciprocated that devotion with the same intensity. He spent millennia fighting for her as a thing he detested—a man of war and death, a being whose mortal body imbued him with innate qualities and emotions that would further twist his Wisdom nature. He was producing the very poisons that would normally corrupt a spirit by virtue of [Being a Person]. The external influences now harbored inside him.

But Lavellan showed him. That being you are, the one that wished to ponder and reminisce of spirits, who valued liberty and freedom and knowledge and the wry observation? That was enough. That was always enough. But he can’t accept it, because millennia of being Fen Harel, being devoted to Mythal and her cause.. to sunder it from himself would feel like a magnificent loss. He has been that for so long, is there anything yet truly left of the Wisdom spirit that once was?

Not only that, but given corporeality, Solas is compelled by the operant [If I can, I must]. He CAN do something about the Veil, so he will. If he doesn’t, then he is forsaking the memory of he destroyed with his choice. He is forsaking his own principles. To do nothing in the face of injustice and cruelty is a sin he cannot bear.

He comes to the Inquisition as a “humble apostate”, both as disguise and because in his de-powered state he is of little greater use (if he had greater power I’m certain he would have nudged the Inquisition toward their goals). This is a costume he is wearing, or so he tells himself. He exists to advise, to suggest, to subtly direct toward more peaceful and humanitarian and spirit-friendly directives. He operates as his former [Wisdom] spirit state.

And Lavellan grows to love it, to appreciate it. She grows to appreciate [Solas as Wisdom]. That part of him, the part of him that he has put aside for thousands upon thousands of years, though his nature craves to return to it. Without his ability to be Fen’Harel, it is pretty much all he has. And oh, this mayfly mortal born of a “forsaken ignorant people”, she is drawn to him, seeing him as a [man], seeing him at his (comparatively) weakest, most ineffectual state and finding it pleasing. Desirable. [Enough].

Enough. He is enough as Solas, simply Solas. But if it is enough for Lavellan, why was it not enough for Mythal? No, no, there was a reason. There was a war. War requires more of people. It requires limits to be broken and terrible mantles to be donned.

But Lavellan is fighting an existential war against Corypheus. And she does not demand more of him. She values what little he is able to provide—guidance, insight, his magic. It is [Enough].

We Solavellans have dissected and discussed at length about the nature of the relationship being one built on deceit, the moral and ethical quandary of love cultivated under a false identity. Veilguard has confirmed the existential struggle and quiet agony that Solas experienced by transitioning into [Being]. While Lavellan should of course had been informed of his ‘true identity’ before falling in love with him, an argument could still be made that Fen’Harel is not his true identity but a long-worn mask that he wishes he could ditch. The man Lavellan fell in love with is who he should be, who he wants to be. Far more underpowered than he’s comfortable with, sure, but the personality for certain. Just a person giving advice, discussing at length about topics he enioys, exploring memories and ruminating over them, smirking over small verbal sleights of hand and sly tricks, engaging in philosophical debates. All of that is already there, that is who he is in peacetime. The man has known war and conflict for so long that he has mentally split Solas and Fen’Harel as two people, because he needed to, but they are the same. Solas who wields the martial prowess of Fen’Harel. Fen’Harel who possesses the wry levity and artistic sentimentality of Solas. SOLAS YOU ARE BOTH AND MORE THAN THESE TWO HALVES.

[gay-dorito-dust]

i need more viktor fluff 👉👈 maybe some nightmare hurt/comfort if possible?

It was hard to remember having a nightmare once you wake up, almost as if it has never happened but yet the unsettling feelings of panic, distress and fear would still thrum through your veins as a reminder that what you experienced wasn’t the most pleasant.

Viktor’s body awoke him from his nightmare as he found himself struggling to catch his breath and calm his heart that was threatening to leap out of his chest, when came your voice from beside him.

‘Viktor?’

He winced, knowing that he must’ve woken you up from your sleep but upon looking at your face, you didn’t seem to mind the disruption at all, if anything you looked to be more concerned with him and his distress that came off of him in waves. ‘Are you okay? You’re looking a little frazzled there.’ You say barely above a whisper as you wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a featherlight touch that had Viktor leaning towards on impulse, closing his eyes as he recognised that he was within safe company.

‘Just a nightmare my love, nothing you should worry yourself over about.’ He finally says for the first time that night, focusing intently on the gentle caresses you give his cheek which felt like a thousand kisses within a single caress, before reopening his beautiful eyes to get a better look of you. Your eyes were half lidded, aching for the sleep he drew you from and creased pyjamas from constantly shifting for a better sleeping position, but you still looked beautiful to Viktor in the light of your bedside lamp; highlighting your features to make you look even more like an angel.

You raised a brow, not at all entirely convinced. ‘If you know me at all Viktor then you’ll know that I’ll always worry about you.’ Viktor sighs as you shuffled closer to him, pulling him into resting his head against your chest and you rubbing his back soothingly. You were too good for him but he couldn’t help but be selfish and melt into your embrace, listening to your steady heart and wiling his own to follow by example until your hearts were beating in a calming unison. Viktor felt selfish for keeping you to himself, but no one else loved him like you did and he didn’t want to loose that; Sure he overworked himself and that meant he didn’t have much time to spend with you, something he still feels incredibly bad about, but when you hold his face and kiss it like you’ll never do so again it made him believe he was worth being loved.

‘Sometimes I wish you didn’t have to worry over me.’ Viktor admits as he closes his eyes again, they felt heavy like lead, and your presence and warmth did nothing but make him all but ache for sleep. ‘I’m not worth it.’ He adds softly, thinking you didn’t hear it but unfortunately you did and you kissed the top of his head while tightening your hold on him. ‘You’re more then worth my worry Viktor, and you’re even more worth my love too while we’re at it,’ you began as you rested your head atop of his, ‘you have no idea how beautiful and pretty you are to me that I often loose my breath near you, and don’t even get me started on how attractive you are as your solving equations and writing notes down like your life depends on it.’ You felt Viktor stiffen in your hold and rubbed his back in response.

‘I honestly have to try my hardest to not just fucking kiss you senseless when you’re hard at work.’ You chuckle to yourself as you remembered all the times where you couldn’t help how you felt towards the scientist hellbent on bettering the lives of the less fortunate, an admirable thing indeed and you couldn’t help but fall harder for his heart like you did with the rest of him. ‘God you’re so fucking beautiful that I fell at the first sight of your amber eyes and your voice. It’s like an angel singing in my ears and I’ve needed let up since.’ You finished.

Viktor didn’t know what to say, you left him speechless with your raw emotions towards him, they left him warm and weightless in the best ways imaginable, and he knew that no matter what he’d say you would always finds words and string them together so eloquently that it leaves him having to accept your words as the uttermost truth. ‘You sure you weren’t a poet in a past life my love? For it seemed that you can weave poetry without even having to try.’ He says softy as he looks at you with a smile, gracefully accepting a kiss that you planted on his lips, feeling himself becoming whole just by the sound of your laugh.

‘No, that’s just love speaking Viktor.’ You replied softly. ‘It tends to make you do things and say things that you didn’t know you could. It can make you brave but I can make you reckless at the same time, love is a double edged sword that can either enlighten your look on life or darken it.’ You kissed his lips again, smiling to yourself when you feel him chase after your lips to give you a kiss of his own. ‘And you Viktor have brightened my life in ways that I thank everyday that I have you in my life.’ You finished as you looked deep into his amber eyes and seeing your forever in them as you rest your forehead against his own, breathing in unison as the nightmare that haunted Viktor vanished within your light.

‘And I am thankful for you being in my life, my light and my muse.’ Viktor replied as he took in this moment in hopes of engraving every last detail into his mind, mainly for his own selfish purposes, before sleep overcame his mind as he buried himself back into your chest and slowly but surely drift back to sleep. It didn’t take long for you to follow suit as you kissed his head and got yourself comfortable before feeling sleep overcome you too. So you tightened your hold on Viktor and welcomed sleep in hopes of seeing him there waiting for you.

[hard-core-super-star]

brought you together so nice [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!natasha romanoff x sub!reader x switch!wanda maximoff

summary: natasha takes care of you until wanda comes back. needless to say, the witch is more than happy about the arrangement you both came up with in her absence.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but even more feelings; mommy + daddy kink; slightly more established dom/dub dynamics; a dash of pet play (as usual); bondage; gagging; soft domme nat + bratty wanda!!!!; vibrator use [R receiving]; praise + degradation + a dash of humiliation; hair pulling; spanking; aftercare

wordcount: 4.1k

a/n: well, well, well...guess who got too attached to another series? yup, me 😅 these two have taken up more of my mind than i originally thought so here is part three of this little series. i don't have a plan to make another full part, but i might mess around and write a few blurbs here and there. we'll see what happens. anyway, thank you for all your support, especially regarding this little series. i'm thinking of opening my requests back up until the start of the new year so keep an eye out for that ;) [commissions are still more than welcome, though!] okay, i'll stop rambling for now, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

Natasha could be sweet when she wanted to.

That was the first thing you learned after agreeing to become her and Wanda's submissive. 

The rules and details weren't too clear yet, the redhead promising to answer all your questions as soon as the Sokovian came back from her mission. Still, she did what she could to fill in the gaps of your knowledge, allowing you to ask her as many questions as you pleased before showing you, in great detail, what she meant.

Despite the cold exterior you'd learned to love, she was much softer with you than you'd ever imagined. Sure, she was still a mean domme at heart, but she wanted to show you heights of pleasure you'd never experienced before.

And she went to great lengths to guarantee it.

It quickly became clear to you how much she loved impact play. Even outside of play sessions, she would always come up behind you, landing a hard smack to your ass before pulling you into her arms. You didn't mind, even when she did it in front of the others.

(Although Tony did whistle at you guys once and promptly earned himself a punch to the stomach. He laughed it off but made sure to never tease the Widow about her behavior with you again.)

You knew there were a lot of things you didn't know or fully understand, but Natasha always seemed to find a way to make you feel more excited than nervous about it. It was almost funny how quickly her personality changed once she allowed you to see past her walls.

Sure, she was still a little mean and more than a little snarky (which is exactly how you liked her, if you were being honest) yet there was a softer, affectionate, side that started coming out more and more.

She told you it was simply because Wanda wasn't around and she wasn't allowed to "break you in" without her around. Maybe it was a silly excuse perfectly crafted to keep you on your toes, but you didn't really mind.

Well, except because you really missed Wanda.

Being without the witch was harder than you thought it would be, but the Widow kept you busy enough to forget the empty spot beside you in their bed.

Your bed.

That was the second thing Natasha made you learn. 

Yes, you were technically an addition to their relationship, but you weren't an outsider. You never were.

That was the third thing you learned.

Both Natasha and Wanda had their eyes on you from the very beginning. They loved each other, and their relationship made them happier than they could put into words, and yet they always felt something was missing. A third energy to keep them in check. To stop them from getting too rough, too mean with each other. To help remember how to be soft after spending so much time fighting with the world.

It was...strange, but you couldn't deny what they meant to you. The attraction you felt toward them had always been there and after Wanda opened that door...well, let's just say there was no going back.

You didn't understand how real that was until now.

Because somehow, someway, after carrying guilt you didn't even need to have in the first place, you were here.

You were theirs.

You were waking up in their bed with Natasha's arms wrapped tight around your waist.

A shudder ran down your body as the redhead's lips met your bare shoulder, peppering kisses across the skin. "Morning, detka. Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you reply as a smile forms on your face. "You're a fantastic cuddler."

"Shut up," she mumbles. There's a clear lack of annoyance in her words despite her attempts at sounding tough. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your grip on me begs to differ."

At your response, her hands move to grip your waist, her nails digging into your soft skin. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching almost instantly. You can feel the redhead smiling against your skin. It hasn't been that long and she already knows your body better than you do.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" She says, taking advantage of your reactions to grind against your ass. "You seem a little distracted."

 It's a bit of a cruel game but it's one she loves to play with you. Truth be told, she loves playing with you, period. You're so different from Wanda, so much more responsive, more honest about your constant neediness.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble, not so subtly grinding back against her.

Just because you were slowly learning the rules regarding your place didn't mean you didn't love pushing Natasha's buttons whenever you could. Which really only happened in the mornings and during aftercare. Those were the only two moments when the older woman allowed herself to be soft with you, to let you see behind the walls she'd expertly put up to keep everyone out. Everyone except you and Wanda, it seems.

Her voice remains low, straddling the border between a tease and a warning. "Is my good girl trying to be a brat?"

Your heart skips a beat at her words. At the mention of being her good girl. Of being hers.

After the rough beginning your relationship had, you never thought you'd be let into her heart in any way. And yet here you are. You're her good girl, her kitten, her darling submissive.

"No..." You trail off, trying to decide whether to behave or push her buttons a little more. Ultimately, your desire to be a little shit wins out. "...Daddy."

Natasha chuckles behind you, her hands moving from your hips and toward your breasts. She gives them a soft squeeze as her thumbs tease your hardening nipples. "Oh, kotenok, you woke up cheeky this morning, huh? You know what mouthing off like that will earn you, right?"

You do know. She's told you many, many times before, usually while she's praising you for being so good for her and drawing out orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated body.

However, she's never actually acted out any of her warnings. It's a good thing, you know that, and yet you can't stop yourself from wanting to see what it will feel like. To explore what that kind of submission will do to you.

"Yes, Daddy. I know."

She hums before going right back to kissing across your shoulders, nipping at your skin just to get you to arch into her teasing hands. "I see...you want to be punished, don't you? Want Daddy to remind you of your place until there's nothing else inside your mind?"

You're about to reply when you're interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Miss Romanoff, Miss Maximoff has asked me to notify you of her return."

Your cheeks flush, even though the disembodied voice can't see what exactly you're up to this morning. At the very least, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a lot less nosy than Jarvis ever was. Although, if you're being honest, you liked him better before he turned into a robot.

"I'm assuming she'll be at the Medbay for a while?" The Widow replies, her mind no doubt full of the things she'll do to you to pass the time.

"Yes, it seems she'll be there for the next half hour."

"Good. Thank you, Friday."

The AI doesn't reply and you can practically imagine her making a swift exit out of the room, leaving you to face whatever it is that the redhead has come up with.

"y/n..." Natasha purrs, her breath hot against your ear. "I have an idea. Why don't we give Mommy a nice surprise, hmm? Don't you want to be her pretty welcome back gift?"

You're not sure what being Wanda's "welcome back gift" will entail, but you can't deny your curiosity about it. Especially since the witch has no idea what you and her girlfriend have been up to. You have no doubt she has her suspicions, she is a mind reader after all, but it'll still be nice to surprise her.

You agree before you even know what you're doing, and Natasha wastes no time in springing into action.

In a matter of minutes, you go from lying comfortably under the covers to being spread out on your back, your limbs tied to each corner of the bed. You're exposed, vulnerable, and you love every second of it.

Of course, Natasha isn't satisfied with that. No, to top off the pretty sight you make, she places a deep, dark red ball gag between your lips. You shouldn't be surprised since, after all, you did ask for it.

"There we go," the redhead hums appreciatively, her eyes taking in the beautiful sight. "Now, just sit tight, okay, detka? I'll be right back."

You whine instantly, but she pays no mind to you, quickly making her way out of the bedroom and going to look for Wanda. You're not exactly happy about being left alone yet, there's nothing you can do. All you can do is throw your head back in frustration and wait for your lovers to return.

You're not sure how much time goes by, although there's no doubt in your mind that Natasha does her best to draw out their return just to mess with you, but eventually, they make their way back to you.

The sound of the door opening makes you practically vibrate with excitement, your hips wiggling from side to side without thinking.

"Well, would you look at that," Wanda says as she steps further into the room. "Looks like someone was having fun without me."

Natasha follows her in, standing behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist. There's something so domestic about the action that makes your heart clench.

"I had to get her ready for you, darling," the redhead replies as her chin finds the other woman's shoulder. "She looks good, doesn't she?"

"She sure does. I take it you worked out your issues?"

"We came to an...agreement, yes. I couldn't let you have all the fun."

Wanda chuckles, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a fond smile. There's no mistaking the fire in her eyes, though, the desire simmering below the surface. "And you said I was crazy for wanting her to join us."

The Widow grumbles, clearly not quite ready to admit her girlfriend was right. "You're still not off the hook, you let her believe you cheated on me."

"When are you going to let that go?"

"I'm not sure, maybe you should make it up to me."

Natasha's eyes remain on you but Wanda turns around, silencing her girlfriend's complaints with a fiery kiss. All you can do is watch, feeling left out and far too involved at the same time. You're slowly getting used to their competitive antics.

Their kisses turn desperate in nothing short of a few seconds, leaving you far too desperate and needy while you squirm around on the bed. They take their sweet time getting back to you, though, instead letting their hands wander over each other's bodies.

You'd love to complain but you're still gagged so talking is pretty much impossible. More than that...you can't say you're not loving the view. It makes you feel a little dirty, like you're watching an intimate scene you shouldn't be, and it brings a rush unlike anything you've ever felt before.

They know, because of course they know, and your obvious arousal only motivates them to tease you.

Natasha moves first, expert hands reaching for the hem of Wanda's shirt and lifting it over her head in an instant. "I missed you."

"Are you talking to me or my boobs?" The witch replies with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

"I'm talking to all of you."

"Nice save, 'Tasha."

"Shut up."

There's something comforting about the scene in front of you, even as your frustration builds. You've been with them before, but it's different this time. You can feel the change in energy, the easy chemistry that flows between all of you now that Natasha isn't trying to push you away.

"Come on, I think we've teased our good girl long enough," Wanda says, taking the redhead's hand and leading her toward the bed. "Isn't that right, sweetheart? You're feeling a little frustrated, hmm?"

You nod desperately in response, tugging at the rope that holds you down. Your actions only make both of your lovers chuckle.

"Look at her, she's drenched and we haven't gotten started yet," Natasha comments, her eyes trailing up and down your body like a predator assessing its prey.

"I'm guessing this means training's going well."

"She's a quick learner. A bit bratty sometimes, though."

The way they talk about you as if you're not a part of the conversation has you clenching around pure air. It doesn't help that the Widow is so accurate in her assessment of you. You love being submissive, being under their control, but you can't deny how much fun it is to disobey. To push against the boundaries she's set for you, not to defy her but to tease her. Maybe even test her a little.

It's far too fun.

"Is that right, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, even though your body language makes it clear how correct Natasha is. "I thought you liked being our good girl. Because if you don't, well...you know what happens to naughty girls, don't you?"

Of course you know. It was one of the first things the redhead taught you. Sure, the rules and terms weren't too fleshed out yet since Natasha had wanted her girlfriend to be a part of the whole exchange, but she'd gone over most things with you. Rewards, punishments, hard limits, all that stuff.

You're unable to tell the witch that, though, thanks to the gag in your mouth. Your incoherent mumbles seem to entertain her for a few seconds while Natasha sneaks off toward their closet.

Wanda's chuckle cuts through the air. Your attempts at convincing her you've been good clearly amuse her. "I know, baby, I know you like being good. Otherwise, Nat wouldn't be so attached to you."

"I'm not attached," the redhead grumbles.

A month ago, her words would have made your heart drop into your stomach. Now, though, you know she's only playing a part. She has no problem telling you how she feels outside of a scene, but when you're playing, when you're being their pet, she's right back to being mean. Right back to degrading you and humiliating you until you're riding the edge of pleasure and pain.

"Keep telling yourself that, darling."

"Oh, I will."

Their banter is borderline comforting. You've loved spending time with Natasha, but this, being with them and seeing their personalities come together, this is where you thrive.

Well, it's not like you're doing much. Then again, they like you most when you're like this. Vulnerable, at their mercy, and so obviously loving every second of it.

Wanda climbs onto bed with you, crawling over your body until she's hovering over you with a gentle smile that steals all your worries away. "'Tasha's such a liar, isn't she, sweetheart? It's okay, let her act like she's the big bad."

You want to laugh, but it's a little hard when she's leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face. The action is far softer than what you were expecting and it makes your heart soar.

You were ready for a rougher training session, for a trial run meant to show you what you had been missing in the witch's absence. But this? This is really good too.

Wanda continues her loving assault on your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw and toward your neck. You tilt your head back in response, earning a soft giggle muffled against your skin, as she kisses and nibbles all up and down your throat. There's no doubt in your mind that she's littering your skin with hickies and noticeable marks, but you find you really don't mind it.

The witch steals your attention long enough for Natasha to gather a few supplies before making her way over to you. You feel her set a few things down next to you, but you don't get to see what they are. Not that you really mind considering how busy your mind is.

"Stop hogging her attention, that's not very fair."

"It's not my fault you left her so fuzzy-headed. Poor girl didn't even stand a chance, huh?"

You shake your head, a few muffled whines making their way out of you.

Natasha chuckles as she shifts onto her knees next to you. Her hands find their way between you and Wanda's bodies, teasing your skin as she explores the territory she's spent the past few days claiming.

"Oh, please. This is nothing. You should've seen the state she was in last night."

The reminder makes you squirm in your restraints, trying to get closer to them to no avail. You know how desperate you look, how absolutely needy you are, but you can't find it in yourself to care. This is what you had been waiting for. To be completely theirs. To surrender to them and accept everything they were willing to give you. Sure, it was intimidating and yet it felt incredibly right.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" Wanda responds, working her way down your body, expertly avoiding the areas where her girlfriend is touching you.

"You deserve it. Wasn't this your fantasy?"

"Maybe. It was hers first, though. Isn't that right, detka?"

The change in topic makes you blush. It shouldn't be surprising to hear that the witch had already known about your feelings for her but it's still a little embarrassing. At least she seems to enjoy it.

You nod, your movements slightly frantic and no doubt fueled by the feeling of her lips on your flushed skin. She takes her time dragging her lips up and down your inner thighs as Natasha teases your hardening nipples.

"Such a good little slut. I bet you're already so fuzzy. Just want your cunt played with and nothing else." The redhead distracts you with her words, leaving you completely unprepared for Wanda's continued assault.

You don't hear the thrumming sound of the vibrator coming to life, but you sure feel it against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders in response as your hips buck in a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sensation.

Your reaction makes the witch laugh and she leans down to press a few more kisses to your thighs. "There you go, that's what I like to see."

Her words feel more like humiliation than praise and yet you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when it feels so good that it borders on painful.

"Excuse you, we were having a little chat." Natasha's tease is coupled with a firm grip in your hair as she tilts your head toward her. "I'll have to train you if you don't fix that attention span, pet."

"Be nice, Nat, it's not her fault she likes me more."

"God, you're such a brat, Maximoff." Her free hand leaves your body to land a sharp smack against Wanda's ass. "I'll put you in your place too, if I have to."

The witch hums in response, very clearly pushing herself back against the redhead's hand. "You know I'd enjoy it."

Natasha spanks her again and the sight has you bucking your hips faster as you search for more pleasure. You let out a string of whines, already feeling yourself on the edge of an orgasm. It's a little embarrassing how quickly you're reaching your limit but in your defense, you've been worked up ever since you woke up. You were bound to lose from the beginning.

"Don't tell me you want to cum already, sweetheart? We've barely gotten started."

You want to defend yourself, but your attempts are instant failures. Natasha seems to get off on how pathetic you sound, though.

"It's alright, kitten, why don't you go ahead and cum for me? Mommy hasn't earned her reward just yet."

Wanda opens her mouth to object but she doesn't get very far since the redhead goes right back to spanking her.

You're not used to seeing the witch in a slightly more submissive position. She always seem to straddle the border between being fully in control and immersed below Natasha's dominance. This change of pace is more than welcome, though.

The vibrator gets pushed harder against your sensitive clit and the pressure sends you over the edge almost instantly. You don't get a chance to warn them, all you can do is give in to the sudden pleasure as your body trembles beneath them.

They're both distracted by the sight of your orgasm crashing into you so suddenly. So beautifully.

"What a good girl," Natasha murmurs appreciatively. "You could learn a thing or two from her, Wands."

"Whatever." You miss the way the witch rolls her eyes since your eyes are more than a little blurry and there's a soft ringing in your ears. "It won't be my fault when she forgets her place, Daddy."

That earns her another spank, but she's too busy moving the vibrator away from your drenched cunt to care. You whine softly at the loss of contact even though you feel far too sensitive to take much more.

Apparently, you look as out of it as you feel because the older women take a few moments to let you catch your breath.

Wanda's hands gently stroke up and down your legs to keep you grounded while Natasha shifts closer, her hands reaching out to undo the ballgag. "How are you feeling, kotenok? Do you want to keep going?"

Your throat's a little dry, but you manage to form a reply. "I'm okay. Just need to catch my breath."

The Widow nods before reaching over to grab the bottled water on the nightstand. She helps you take a few sips of water while Wanda continues to caress your skin, both giving you as much time as you need to recover. It's such a small thing and yet it's a reminder of why you're so attached to them. Why you need them more and more with every day that goes by.

Your relationship with them might have had a bit of a rough start, but you couldn't imagine a better outcome. Couldn't imagine two better people to surrender your heart to.

"Someone's in a romantic mood," Wanda pipes up with a soft smile.

Her words cause an instant response in you and you feel your face grow warmer by the second. "Why are you in my mind right now?"

"Because your thoughts about me are so loud," she replies almost instantly. "Don't look so embarrassed, detka, I think it's cute."

"Shut up," you mumble, momentarily forgetting where you are and what you're in the middle of doing.

Wanda's smile turns slightly dark and her hand comes down against your thigh before you can even think about what you did wrong. "Where'd your manners go, huh?"

The sensation makes you shiver, but Natasha reaches a hand out to stop the witch from smacking your thigh again. "Time out, darling. I don't think we're quite ready to keep going."

You want to argue with her and yet you make no real effort to. As much as you might want to keep going, you can't deny how overwhelming it all was...and how desperate you are for some cuddles.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Wanda instantly shushes you as she uses her magic to undo the restraints keeping you tied down. "Nonsense, you have nothing to apologize for."

The second your limbs are free, Natasha's hands are on you again. This time, though, she merely maneuvers you onto your side so she's able to slide in behind you. The second her arms wrap around your waist, your shoulders let go of the tension they've been holding. 

Wanda wastes no time in joining the two of you, laying down in front of you and reaching up to play with your hair. "Just relax, we have all day to pick up where we left off."

"Don't rush her, little witch."

Natasha's words make you chuckle and you lean forward until you're practically buried in the witch's chest. "I'm okay, guys. I don't break easily."

A beat of silence goes by as they allow you to soak in the afterglow, in the feeling of their embrace.

But the Widow really can't help herself.

"Are you sure? Maybe we should test that out."

Her words are a tease, but none of you can deny your curiosity...or your arousal.

Needless to say, you spend most of the day tangled up in their bed.

Your bed.

With the two women who mean the absolute world to you.

[lady-griffin]

Jinx's Hallucinations + Ekko

Before Act III drops, I wanted to talk about an aspect of Timebomb that I'm quite fascinated by -

Ekko isn’t a trigger for Jinx’s hallucinations.

He has even stopped her hallucinations – not intentionally or anything, but more than once Ekko's presence seems to have a nullifying impact on Jinx.

Which is odd, right?

One would assume due to their history Ekko would be just as triggering to Jinx as anyone else, if not more so, and yet the opposite seems to be true.

In Jinx's first reunion with Vi, she quickly becomes overwhelmed and has an episode due to a whole combination of factors, but notably because her hallucinations of Mylo and Claggor start attacking her, largely because she's starting to breakdown and is getting overwhelmed (a self-perpetuating cycle).

Jinx can't even begin to calm herself down, in fact she yells at everyone to shut up, because she needs to think.

Then she hears Ekko’s hoverboard and suddenly the hallucinations are completely gone.

Jinx isn’t sure if what she heard was real or not.

Which is a great detail, since it indicates Jinx is aware that the voices she hears aren’t “real," meaning she knows other people can’t hear them too. So, it's rather telling (at least for me) that she asks Vi to confirm if she too heard the hoverboard sound.

It's also impressive Jinx was able to instantly recognize the sound of Ekko's hoverboard, despite her being in the midst of a mental breakdown and unable to think properly.

It’s almost like Jinx’s brain went into fight mode or something, because seemingly all the hallucinations stopped at once because there’s now a much bigger threat Jinx needs to be on guard for – Ekko is heading her way.

I really can't emphasize how much I love that.

While not traditionally romantic, in any sense, this shows the amount of respect Jinx has towards Ekko and the threat he poses to her. He’s someone she actually has to take seriously when fighting.

Which is a bit unique for Jinx.

Throughout S1 we saw Jinx being far more scared of her hallucinations then actual real, physical threats, but in this moment it’s like her brain recognized Ekko as being the far greater threat than her hallucinations.

Which he is - but that’s also true for many of the other things Jinx faces and isn’t scared of.

Jinx does “glitch out” while fighting Ekko and the Firelights in “When These Walls Come Tumbling Down,” - but it’s more of an asset than a problem, as she easily dodges the Gorilla Mask Firelight (at least I think it’s a gorilla).

Then when Ekko disappears, Jinx's psychoses come rushing back; obviously, this has less to do with Ekko himself and everything to do with him taking Vi, but nonetheless, it's still a slight repetition of the pattern that keeps happening between them.

In "The Boy Savior," during Jinx's bridge fight with Ekko, she once again specifically doesn't experience any hallucinations; even though she was just experiencing them not too long ago.

Mylo was this 'demon' on her back that while she could initially argue against, the more upset she became, the bigger his presence was.

She saw Caitlyn as this devil figure, laughing and mocking her and her psychoses even blocked Vi almost entirely from her sight; whether literally or symbolically, Jinx clearly wasn’t fully aware she was shooting at Vi, despite her obviously seeing Vi and then shooting in her direction.

Then Ekko bursts onto the scene and suddenly no more hallucinations. Which is just...

I honestly don’t know what this is. I really don’t.

To be clear, I absolutely love this whole thing despite not knowing what it is exactly, because honestly, I'm just fascinated by this dynamic, because for whatever reason, Jinx isn't triggered by Ekko nor does she hallucinate him.

In S2, Jinx’s hallucinations have significantly decreased, but in “Paint the Town Blue," she's suddenly bombarded with pretty much everyone’s voices because she’s beyond upset and panicking about Isha being taken by the enforcers.

She sees pretty much everyone - Silco, Vi, Mylo, Claggor, Sevika, and Isha.

Jinx seeing Vi, Sevika, and Isha shows us that she can/does hallucinate people who she knows are alive.

In addition, Isha being one of her hallucinations shows us that Jinx doesn’t need to have negative or even complicated feelings towards someone for them to become a part of her psychoses, as Jinx largely thinks/feels positively towards Isha.

Though it should be noted, the hallucination of Isha isn’t acting aggressive towards Jinx, not like the others are.

Finally, Ekko or Vander are the only two she doesn't hallucinate, but we know Jinx has hallucinated Vander in the past, making Ekko the odd one out when it comes to Jinx's hallucinations once again.

Which for the millionth is absolutely fascinating to me.

Because why?

Why doesn't Ekko trigger Jinx? Why isn't he one of her hallucinations? How come he's the only one we've seen having the ability to stop Jinx's hallucinations altogether (even if it's completely unintentional)?

For whatever reason, Jinx’s mind has seemingly categorized Ekko as being different than everyone else and while it’s obviously not this big thing the show brings your attention to, it’s also clearly there, albeit subtly.

And yeah...

I don’t really have much more to say, I just wanted to talk about this interesting aspect of Timebomb before we get to the last and final arc of Arcane.

[yeyinde]

i would give you my life for marriage counselor!reader x price part 3, pleaseeee im begging you 😮‍💨🙏😮‍💨🙏

He fucks you in your office, for sure.

18+. extremely dubious consent. unk. condescending Dom!Price.

Petty, combative. Authority figures make him itch. But there's a sick thrill that goes through him when he sinks down into your chair, fully dressed with just his trousers undone, cock freed, and pulls you, completely naked, onto his lap. Makes you ride him as he sprawls out over it, too; his hand tight around your neck to keep you up, the other dangling over the edge, drinking from the sneaky stash of booze he finds after rummaging around your desk (all the while, he had you sitting on top of it, one hand rifling through your belongings and the other buried between your thighs, making you answer his inane questions as he tuts about how you're getting his cuffs all wet, not such a smart little girl now are you? soakin' his hand like that. needy little thing, more like.)

It's not his preferred position, but he likes the sight of you glaring down at him as he fills you with his cock. Unable to to do anything at all even when you're on top, in the dominant role. Reduced to a mess of a once smart, haughty girl. Biting your lip as he bucks into you. Trying to smother the scream, the plea—slow down, slow down, please, it's too deep—that trembles on your lip. Pride and this fickle, paperthin ideal of agency is the only thing keeping it all in.

You think you can take him. Handle him.

So, John gives you the reigns and leans back on your smart little chair in your smart little office. Accolades hung on the wall. Polished and mature. It's all so—

Adorable.

The contrast of it all feeds the monster in his chest that's been prowling around ever since you tried to boss him around. The mouth that once said you're not trying hard enough, Mr Price you need to do better now all slack-jawed and drool slick as he spears inside to the deepest part of you he can reach; the doleful glare swallowed by the shiver of your lids as your eyes roll back into your pretty little head.

Struggling to take him. Hesitating to slide down the thickest part of his cock, whimpering when he shifts his hips and makes you take him down to the root. Tears flood your lashline, gleaming iridescent like sunshine hitting an oil spill. Lips trembling as you jolt at the realness of it all—of trying to handle him like you said you could but quickly realising you can't when the heart of yourself starts to feel like a raw, open wound.

Yeah, he thinks, and brings the bottle to his lips. You look so much better just like this.

And that's what it's about, really. Control. Something you stripped him of when he marched into your office and you—younger, less experienced, less established—just looked at him, and said, sit down right there, Mr Price.

Well. You didn't say it, did you? No, you commanded. And Price doesn't take orders from idiots in office who think they're his superior, so why the hell should he listen to you, mm?

But he did. And now he's savouring it because this is quid pro quo. Something for something. His compliance (ephemeral as it was) for you.

Because the problem is that you riled him up. With your neat, clean office. Your smart suits. The unbidden air of authority—this condescending, sophisticated cloud that clung to the haughty tip of your chin when you talked to him. It all itched under his skin. Made his heart thunder with the urge to break—

(Claim, maim—sometimes he gets the two mixed up, the word eliding together under the malformed snarl in his throat. But you're tough, aren't you? He's sure you can handle whichever one ends up spilling out.)

He bites down on the little sliver of skin beneath your jaw—that small patch where his hand, still spread over the thick of your throat, doesn't cover—and groans, feeling you clench tight around him. Tight little hole barely stretched enough to take him without it aching each time he moves, tugging on thin, sensitive skin until he has to snuff the whimpers he can feel crawling up your throat with a squeeze of his hand.

It has the after making his head swim already. When he finally finished getting his due, breaking you in, he'll take you home. Let you rest. Court you good and proper until you're melting his hands, softened wax for him to play with and mould however he likes. And he will.

He saw the potential in you the moment he leaned in close—too close, his ex-wife will accuse him of later; you never get that close to me anymore, John—and saw the shift of your throat when you swallowed. The flex of your thighs as you squeezed them tight together. The little flutter of your lashes, eyes listing treacherously downward, so achingly close to submission that it punched the air from his lungs. Kept him winded even as you pulled yourself back together. Meeting his stare with a glare of your own. All fire, all teeth. But he'll enjoy filing your canines down until they're pretty and soft and round—

"mm, not so arrogant now, are you?" He pulls you closer, nips at the thrill of your pulse until he feels it thudding against his enamel. Rabbit-quick. Ferocious lioness purring at his feet. "S'all you needed was my cock, mm, to make you this sweet?"

He doesn't expect an answer, and can really only groan when you eke out a liquid, breathless, fuck you, John, content to let you lash out as much as you want, holding you tighter in the cup of his palm. Pussy clenching tight, tears dripping down your cheeks—he basks in it even as you claw at him, pawing at his chest with your teeth bared as you pretend this is your choice. That you're taking from him with each unsteady, furious roll of your hips. Pulling him in deeper. Letting the part inside of you that rages against this hew fantasy into reality; cobwebs of delusion thickening in the whites of your eyes as you shatter over him, on his lap, stuffed full with the thick of his cock, and play pretend in your head that he's just your throne—

Even as he kicks his heels against the legs of your own, planting his feet on your carpet, in this space you build yourself, driving inside of you until the webs shake, starting to come loose.

You—this free, willful bird—have been left in the wild for too long. And he'll spend the next two months building your cage, and when he's finally finished, you'll beg him to throw away the key.

"Told you, didn't I?" he growls, hand tightening around your throat. "You were in over your head, little girl. You should have listened."

(Freshly divorced—ink still wet on the paper—and he's already engaged. How about that.)

[zepskies]

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGdFgGL1y/

I’ve been loving this trend and then realised this could literally bmd Ben and reader asking him to show how he would’ve moved to her in the 80s and even better cause he literally experienced it, I can see him being unwilling to entertain but slowly caving in when he sees she’s not breaking and giving him attention until he tries

LOL that's adorable. 😂 Thanks for thinking of Break Me Down (Soldier Boy x Reader)! Seems to be a theme this week lol! I went ahead and watched that TikTok and again it got me imaging the thing...

Imagine Soldier Boy (Ben) "Sliding Up" to You in the Club

I can imagine that coming up in conversation if the reader in BMD was being subjected to watching another one of his music videos. She'd be teasing him, of course, but he'd be defending himself and his career choices. It was the 80s!

And for your information, Ben says, women were fucking falling over themselves to have him sign their Rapture albums. It was frankly irritating when he went out. Sometimes, he just wanted to relax with a smoke and a glass of bourbon at the club. You scoff at that one.

He looks amused. "What, you think you would've been the only girl in America who didn't cream their panties when I showed up?"

You shoot him a wry brow raise. Do you have to remind him how you two met? Being tied to a chair with zip ties comes to mind.

But then, something else occurs to you. The first time you and Ben actually met was in a smokey club in Medellin, Colombia. You'd been "undercover" then, and though you hadn't danced with him, it makes you think...

"Okay, let's say we're at the club," you pose, with a sly smile. "It's 1983..."

You find the song "Too Shy" on your phone; quintessential 80s pop. The smooth riffs start playing. You get up to start vibing near him in the comfort of your living room. You're just swaying side to side with a little sensuous, playful bounce to your step, your hand movements simple.

Ben doesn't want to smile, but you're making it difficult as he lounges half across the couch.

"Come on. How would you slide up on me?" you taunt.

He arches a brow. "Slide?"

"You know what I mean. What was your move, huh?" you ask, teasing him with the curve of your ass and the sway of your hips in your yoga pants.

You saunter closer to him, beckoning him over to you. All the while you sing to yourself, "Too shy, shyyyy. Hush, hush, eye to eye..."

Ben rolls his eyes, reluctant to rise to your bait. But eventually, your teasing is too much for him to ignore. He pulls himself off the couch and comes up behind you.

He takes your hand while you're purposefully facing away from him, and smoothly turns you around, guiding you back into his arms like he's Fred Astaire. You utter a little gasp and grab onto his shoulders. Your gaze flicks up to his with a smile.

His lips curve as he looks down at you. He matches the vibe of the song as he moves along with you, but then he turns you around, holding you from behind with steady hands sliding down the curve of your waist. His strength is tempered just enough for you to feel it.

He gradually moves closer with every bounce of the beat, and soon every part of his body is molded to yours. Your hands fall over his as you subtly lean back against his chest.

He bows his head near your cheek, smiling, because he can hear your heart beating a little faster. His lips brush the shell of your ear.

"Gotcha."

AN: Once again, this turned into a little headcanon/imagine that I wasn't expecting. 🤣 Last post before I'm off on a trip all weekend! 💚

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@everything-is-all-clear @suckitands33 @cookiechipdough @trashmoutth @riteofpassage77

@jc-winchester @mxltifxnd0m @bleuatlas @luci-in-trenchcoats

[kiryoutann]

another sneak peek because i have yet to find it in me to post the full thing. warning(s): MDNI, sexual contents, graphic description of blood, wounds, burn scars, and violence. past-torture, possible dacryphilia.

“Those scars…” Your voice wavered, and you had to pause to steady it. “Were they from your time in the military?”

Watching those pretty lips tremble, tears marring your beautiful face, he felt a sickening clench in his chest. Part of him hated seeing you so sad, while another swelled with something akin to misplaced pride – that this angel was weeping over scars so old they had long since stopped hurting him.

Scars from battles the old Simon had fought years ago. Scars he had seen as part of his creation, marks he bore without feeling.

“Some from service, yeah. Others… more personal-like.” He said it nonchalantly. In his perspective, as proof that it didn’t hurt anymore, didn't need to numb it with ice like he did in the past—so, sweet thing, stop crying over him.

As if that were possible. He could tell you that it happened years ago, but it doesn't matter; it wouldn't lessen the pain even if your human life spanned a hundred centuries. Your tongue seared, heart sliced—someone touched the one you love with the most brutal violence they could choose in this world.

The image must have been absurd—the two of you completely naked in front of each other, yet instead of continuing, you weep over him. But now that you’ve seen it—those scars etched so cruelly and eternally upon his flesh—how do you look away?

"Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” Your voice trembled, tracing that scar near his ribs that had caught your attention since you first saw it. It stood out, raised and knotted in a way that spoke of a cruel blade—making you wince at the thought of the pain. “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

Without any real weight, he said, “Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,” in a light intonation as if it were some kind of joke.

But it wasn’t. My God, you wished it was, but it wasn’t, judging by the scars.

Despite his effort, it couldn’t mask the horror he’d experienced. Your breath hitches in a sob, your hand trying to cover your mouth. Your airway constricts as you imagine how it must have felt for him then. Hanged by the ribs, feeling your skin tear from holding your weight, flesh on display like they do in a slaughterhouse.

And he still manages to shush you, drawing your head to his chest in a tight hug like you’re the one who’s been through it all.

“Twern’t nothin’ – doesn’t even ‘urt no more.”

Pressed against his skin, you seek the usual solace that his heartbeat brings. But your heart remains unsettled, a lingering question nagging at your mind and tongue, refusing to let you find peace until it's voiced.

Raising your head slightly, chin resting upon his chest, you meet his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "And... and the burn scars?”

“House fire during a mission.”

You know that’s not the full truth, but you don’t dare to press it, choosing to spare your heart from more details of his agonies.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said.

Simon gave a small hum in response. Reaching up, he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Then stop cryin', love. 'Urts more to see yer pretty face all red and puffy.”

The hands around your jaw bring you closer. This time, he's the first to initiate this new kiss, closing his lips around yours with almost hesitant caution. And you want to cry—you want to cry from how gentle his touch is, and yet someone has handled him in the cruelest way possible.

[sneak peek of chapter 10 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING."]

[taojjang]

riize when you're on your period ✮⋆˙

pairing: bf!riize x fem!reader, genre: fluff (tiny bit of crack idk), warnings: menstrual cycle, blood, medication

♡⸝⸝ how he'd spoil you rotten during that time of the month

shotaro . . .

◦ oh how sweet he'd be :(

◦ taro is always the sweetest to you, treating you like a princess every waking moment of your life.

◦ but when you're on your period, he does everything in his power to lift your spirits and make you feel better.

◦ he wouldn't shy away from buying your feminine hygiene products! a real man, we love to see it!

◦ he'd be at your house every day, calling you beforehand to ask if you need him to get something for you.

◦ even if you say no, he'll never arrive empty-handed. he'll bring your favorite ice cream and maybe even a new teddy bear!

★ - "i'm sorry you're having a tough time, honey... is there anything i can do for you?"

eunseok . . .

◦ not a single day goes by where eunseok isn't spoiling you, waiting for your every request

◦ nothing changes during this time of the month; your caring boyfriend still stopping at nothing to make your life as easy as it can be.

◦ the only difference is that he'd never leave your side for even a second.

◦ he'd be sat beside you stroking your hair, occasionally checking to see if you're in pain or need anything from him.

◦ in the morning he'd ask you what you feel like eating so he can plan out today's meals, always ensuring his baby is happy and well-fed </3

◦ once he notices even a small wince from you, he wastes no time, rushing to grab a hot pack and leaving soothing kisses on your forehead.

★ - "i know it hurts, darling, i'm sorry. i'll take care of it, i promise."

sungchan . . .

◦ your cuddle buddy!

◦ whenever it's that time of the month, really all he wants to do is scoop you up in his arms and hug all of the pain away :( ... which conveniently works!

◦ when you're experiencing cramps, sungchan is always beside you, gently rubbing your tummy. he holds you delicately in his arms as if you'd shatter with too rough of a touch.

◦ his large, warm hands work wonders for your minor cramps and he knows that, so he never stays far from you in case you need him.

◦ but when your cramps are intense, sungchan always feels so sad and helpless :( he frantically researches remedies while you curl up in his lap, crying against his chest.

◦ he wipes your tears and kisses their trails, trying his best to soothe you in any way possible.

★ - "i'm so sorry, princess... the medicine should be kicking in any second now. should we try to take a nap?"

wonbin . . .

◦ a clueless cutie (・・ ) ?

◦ he'd be helplessly sitting beside you, too scared to touch you in fears of hurting you even more.

◦ nevertheless, he'd still be layering you with blankets and googling how to help his suffering gf (he's a loser and you love him!)

◦ in the end, he asks you to tell him whatever it is that you need, but all you want is cuddles and snacks :( so ofc he delivers!

◦ he'd order a bunch of your favorite snacks and find a good movie to watch

◦ would put on a comedy but laughing hurts your stomach so you watch a sappy romance instead, aaaand now he's stuck wiping your tears while you ugly cry over some cliche movie...!

★ - "you're such a crybaby. come here, let me kiss you."

seunghan . . .

◦ the way he treats you when you're on your period alone is already grounds for marriage

◦ seunghan would cater to your every need— buying your hygiene products, running errands, completing house chores, shit maybe even doing homework for you

◦ he just can't see his baby in pain :(

◦ the second you're leaning over in pain, he's running over to hug you probably with tears in his eyes

◦ every little flinch and he's asking if you need to go to the hospital

◦ he's the most caring boy in the world and he'd do anything for you <3

★ - "i'm sorry it hurts so much, angel... but i'm so proud of you, you know that?"

sohee . . .

◦ sohee would wear a stoic and confident act, but the poor boy is just a confused, scared, anxious little dude...

◦ he would be less clingy than the other members but would still travel lengths to make you feel better.

◦ sohee would work on lifting your spirits! he'd love to pick up food from your favorite restaurant and eat with you :3

◦ he'd do anything to make you smile— often ordering frozen yogurt at 2am and watching naruto until sunrise

◦ he knows how excruciating your menstrual cycle is, so he does everything in his power to make you happy even if its just for a split second.

◦ he's just your little ball of sunshine <3

★ - "i know it hurts, pretty girl... how about i order froyo? would that take your mind off of it..?"

anton . . .

◦ GOD SAVE THIS POOR BOY

◦ he is just about as emotionally drained as you are...

◦ every time you'd whine in pain, he'd hold you close to him and cry with you, constantly whispering apologies and comforting words.

◦ he goes out to buy your hygiene products but probably ends up calling you to tell him which one to buy... poor boy is super shy but he reminds himself it's for your girlfriend!

◦ he probably asks you questions about your period so he can become more prepared and knowledgeable, but you're not in the mood to talk so you end up cuddling instead (◡﹏◡)

◦ you lie cuddled up against his chest as he strokes your hair with one hand and rests the other on your lower back, soaking in each others' presence.

★ - "you're so admirable, my love. you're doing so well."

[joicecubes]

my take on this scene (arcane s2 act 2 spoilers. obviously)

if you’re active within the arcane fandom space recently i’m sure you’ve at least stumbled across the discourse where someone interpreted this exchange to be vi “realizing jinx is a better older sister” or something. personally i think it’s a lot less about comparison and a lot more about guilt.

vi has felt responsible for jinx her entire life. she was her protector when they were kids. she abandoned her after vander, milo, and claggor’s deaths leading silco to take her in. jinx went on to work for him. she killed caitlyn’s mother in the council meeting explosion. everything jinx has done and every horrible thing she’s experienced has been a direct result (at least in vi’s mind) of her own failures as an older sibling. and despite her guilt, eventually she forced herself to accept that powder didn’t exist anymore. even more painful, that since she’s the one who caused jinx to be this way, she also has to take responsibility and stand by caitlyn’s side in ensuring jinx won’t hurt anyone else.

but she fails. jinx runs free, vi wallows in her breakup sorrows, and the next time they see each other, jinx… has changed. and she has that same kid with her from their fight. and she’s come to vi willingly for her help.

i think vi is thinking a lot of things when she sees jinx comforting isha. surprise, firstly, to see this side of jinx she hasn’t seen since they were kids. the jinx she knows is a shell of her former self, changed beyond belief, and yet vi watches as jinx softens and treats isha with so much care. helps her dust herself off, says something vi might’ve said to powder what feels like a lifetime ago. “still got all your insides?”

the truth of it is, it’s not jinx being a better older sister than vi was. it’s jinx emulating what vi once was to her, and i think vi catches onto that. she’s watching as an outsider now, jinx and isha paralleling what her and powder’s relationship used to be like and i think it would make sense if the strongest thing she’s feeling right now is longing. how devastating it is that their relationship feels so irreparable, how deeply she wishes she hadn’t hurt powder so long ago.

but there’s also hope in her asking “why’d you come get me? you don’t actually need my help.” sure, she’s still bitter. how could she not be, after everything that’s happened between them? but she recognizes that jinx doesn’t need her anymore, it becomes especially clear seeing jinx taking care of someone else like vi used to take care of her. so why seek her out? why drag her all the way out here? there’s a deep, wounded, guilty part of her that’s desperate for reconciliation, so she reaches for it. especially now that she has no one else.

they make me so sad :(

[diy-dynamite]

Can you write for mc for homocipher ? I know it's us ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ but make the reader and the mc a separate person

Omg. This is so amazing

Tysm for requesting this, I'm gonna go free reign with how I perceive our MC!!

YOU&ME

Adami x GN Reader

Contents: spoilers for Homicipher :3, canon typical violence, & this is based purely off my personal view of her!

******

YOU don't know how you got here. You don't even know where you are. Then suddenly, it hit you.

Not realisation.

A crowbar.

...

A deafening pain hit you upside the head. Your heartbeat throbbed at your skull. You clasped a hand over it, trying to cower from the harsh ringing. "Agh... what...?"

You glanced down—you were on a pale mattress. A hospital bed, perhaps, and a dirty one, at that.

"_ _. _ _ _?" (You awake. You're okay?)

You whipped your head around to see a silhouette of white and dark splatters—a person in a raincoat. At first glance, she looked human.

"_ _ _," she said again. (You are safe.)

The language she spoke didn't feel human. And now that you looked closer, you spotted the red rashes and dried blood on her arms and the splatters on her raincoat... was blood.

You flinched back when she tried to reach out to you, but the abrupt movement only did your headache worse. "Who are you?" You hissed, trying to get the necessary questions out of the way. "Why did you...?"

"_ _ _ _," another voice chirped. (They not understand language.)

That one scared you more. On all fours, hair covering his eyes, blood dripping where his eyes should be.... You nearly fainted if it weren't for the whiplash you experienced due to the one in the raincoat suddenly speaking in your language.

"Sorry," she said, dropping her crowbar, a loud and painstaking clang echoing throughout the room. "Can't... er," she huffed. "Can't remember how... speak. Your language."

.

.

.

You blinked. "Sorry?"

"Can't—!" she sighed. "Okay, okay. I teach... uh... our language." She gestured between herself and her crawling friend.

You were hesitant. She had a crowbar. He... was probably a human eater. She's probably a human eater, too!

You have to get away.

"I... I don't think you have to," you stammered, scooting further up on the bed.

She stepped closer, and you quickly got off the bed to the right, using the mattress as something to keep distance between you and the two horrors standing before you.

She stepped around the bed, blocking your path, and the one on the ground still stayed by the bed.

"We help," she said. You didn't believe a single word she said. "We help."

The raincoat girl reached out, and you couldn't stop your instincts from jumping over the bed and swinging the door open, running like death itself was in full chase for you.

The urge to look back was too strong, so you did—only briefly—and your heart dropped to see the girl in the raincoat running after you.

You cried out for them to stop, running even faster. As you drifted into a corner, you bumped into another, probably terrifying creature. You didn't stop to see. All you knew was he was tall and wore white, too, and was holding something orange with a tail.

He ended up nearly dropping the tailed orange thing, and you heard distant complaining in the same language the girl was speaking.

A hand yanked your collar back. You choked, a strained yelp skidding out of your throat. The panic only sunk further in your gut when you couldn't feel the ground at your feet anymore.

"Ghk—! Put me down! Help—!"

You were quickly silenced once you were face to face with a horrifying, red-eyed, and narrow-browed glare. "Shhhhhhhh."

If you could melt into whoever was manhandling you, you would. Wait.

Her hands were at her sides.

Only now did you fully realise that someone else was holding you up.

You tested your luck and peeked behind you, and it was the silver silhouette, but up close. His eyes were wrapped with a blood-stained bandage. He smiled, muttering something, but you quickly tried to squiggle out of his hand.

"Stop," the girl sighed. So you did.

She put her hand on her hip and gave you a look. "We friendly. Stop."

"You don't look like it!"

"Then I prove it!" she cried, clearly frustrated. You chose to hold your tongue, not wanting to push her buttons further upon seeing her grip tighten on her crowbar.

Nodding, you mimed, zipping your mouth shut and locking it.

The girl nodded in return. "Good. Now come." Her fingers curled under your shirt's neckline, and she pulled—you had no choice but to follow.

...

So... they are friendly.

You sat on your bed on the far back, listening to the raincoat girl talk.

You'd asked her name before, but she claimed not to remember. That's fine—you didn't seem to remember yours, either.

It's almost sad. Almost. Because you lost yourself. So did she. So did the others, if you assumed correctly. You still had a couple of cups of humanity in you, but she? She had less.

If you had a cup, she had a drop, and it was drying out too fast.

They're their own creatures. They're not human, but they're not completely lost—they have an ounce of what feels like human nature. You're all lost. Not just you, not just her, but everyone else, too. At least, you think so. Everyone here felt human before. You don't know for sure, though, your ability to think is losing its complexity.

You figured out four things during your stay (which you also don't remember; it feels like you've always been here):

The only thing on your minds' are to survive. Some have additional things, like having fun or learning, but for you and the raincoat girl, and the crawling one, too, all you want is to get through the next few hours.

You don't know when a day starts or ends, either, so you've got only your hunger to tell you whether a day has passed. Even then, your hunger spikes only grow more often than not.

Still, you smiled.

At least here, you're home.

That's what the raincoat girl tells you.

"You home," she whispered in your ear as you laid down to rest, curling up next to you with gentle hands playing with the loose strings of your shirt's neckline, her head closer to your chest, as if she was relishing in hearing the last breaths of your life drum on your ribcage.

"You and I," she said. "Home."

Her red eyes flickered to you, urging you to reply.

You nodded.

"Home."

She's all everybody needs.

She's all you need.

And that's okay.

********

I have no idea where I was going with this LMAO UH

Anyway! I'm so sorry for taking so long on this, I got stressed over my SATs test in a few weeks, erm. If I don't update anymore then yk what happened to me (I failed)

ANYWAY!! I hope you liked this one </3 requests still open, just slow updates :3

[vervainandspritz]

HEADCANONS - what would he do to get you in the mood?

Characters: Lenny Miller, Jonathan Crane, Robert Fischer, Jackson Rippner, Raymond Leon, Emmett (TQPII), Tommy Shelby,

A/N: Requested by @lau219 ,y'all feel free to send requests.

~~

Lenny Miller - Leonard is an experienced man, he knows how to get his way around Y/N. Pretty frequently on his way home, he would already have a rough plan on the evening ahead of them. Sometimes grabbing a bouquet of flowers in the nearby florist shop or a bottle of wine. After coming home, Lenny impatiently would find her around the house, searching for any physical contact he could get. "Did you miss me like I missed you?" He'd ask her in that velvety voice, thumbs rubbing up and down on the little crevice of her hips, almost teasing. Sometimes they end up sitting on the couch, Y/N's feet on his lap as she told him all about her day, while Leonard listened and gave her a massage, hands barely visibly moving higher with each stroke. "Poor girl" He liked to tease, closing the proximity once his pants became too tight in a crotch from the simple touches. "Left you all alone here" From that point, he didn't play coy. Knowing all the right spots to touch, he effortlessly kept making her go soft, almost putty in his hands.

~

Jonathan Crane - Jonathan's methods differed depending on the mood he was in. Sometimes days in Arkham were more difficult than the others, and so his patience ran thin. He'd come back home abruptly, peeling the layers of clothing away. The way he'd press his bare, hot chest against Y/N's back, searching closeness he could get only from her. "Was it a bad day?" She would ask, turning around to face him. Sometimes it would all start from the touch as innocent as holding hands, when he'd direct her hand to his cheek, steely blue eyes carefully studying her body covered in the clothes she was wearing. Pulling her closer till their fronts would connect, and she'd feel the proof of his urgency. His own hands landing on her back, massaging the skin and pulling her against his chest while simultaneously hiding his face in her neck. The way she'd feel him so intensely slightly trembling, connected with shivering delightfully from how his hot breath bounced off her skin could come off as symptoms of fear to a mind so great in his very major.

~

Robert Fischer - Robert's favourite way of showing affection would come on display as soon as he made it through the door. He thoroughly enjoyed the ability Y/N taught him - talking. Using words of affection was one of the greatest joys for both of them, after all the time it took for him to get used to doing so. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. Missed you so much" He spoke softly into her ear, the vulnerable tone of his voice showing nothing but honesty. Y/N immediately mirrored his mood most of the time, growing warm in his embrace. In a couple swift movements he'd gain access to her skin, caressing it delicately while simultaneously holding her gaze. "I need you" he'd confess quietly, leaning to capture her lips in a kiss so needy, Y/N could barely breathe.

~

Jackson Rippner - Jackson was anything but patient when this urge would hit. It wouldn't matter whether she was busy or not, his hot hands would grasp her hips, often pressing her against something to gain control. Leaning down to graze his nose against the sensitive skin of her neck, taking in the scent that never failed to make him hard. "Jackson, I'm busy" Y/N would sometimes manage to stutter out, feeling the heavy weight of his body against her back. A quiet chuckle would push past his lips, as he pressed harder. "What can possibly be more important than taking care of your man?" His voice would come off arrogant, often purposely. Knowing how well it worked on working her up. His roughed up hands would move higher, barely brushing against her breasts to come resting on her throat, not squeezing just yet. "Feel what you do to me, sweetheart?" He'd growl, nearly on the edge of just... Bending her over the desk and taking what he wanted. Giving her throat a little squeeze, he'd quickly reach between her legs, getting a hold of her. Jackson's lips would stretch into an arrogant grin as he'd feel the wetness beneath her panties. Lightly rubbing against her covered slit, he'd lean closer to whisper. "So wet and needy. I'll give you what you need, but you owe me one, hmm?"

~

Raymond Leon - Raymond wasn't one to ask, not to.. talk too much. He liked to use the advantage of how easily bothered Y/N would get seeing him like that. "What are you doing?" he'd ask like it mattered, leaning on the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest. His scent and warmth would be enough to make her notice the close proximity, causing Y/N to squeeze her thighs together lightly. Not going unnoticed under his watchful gaze, as he'd keep looking at her, knowing well she could feel him watching. Brushing his arm lightly against hers, he'd move around pretending to be busy before finally having her cornered. She'd be breathing heavily, eyes taking greedily the sight of his bare, freckles skin and muscles on his torso. Sooner or later his hands would end up on her face, pulling her closer. Their noses brushing against each other as he'd smile, looking deeply into her eyes. "What got you so bothered, honey?" Raymond would ask, because even though he hated talking, he secretly loved hearing her talk.

~

Emmett - His favourite thing to get Y/N in the mood would always be kissing. He'd lean in for a kiss, his arms wrapping tightly around her middle to keep her in place. The deep groans leaving his lips would echo in her stomach, making the heat pool to the lower side of it. "So beautiful" He'd murmur in a deep voice, keeping her lips occupied with his own while slowly touching and grasping every inch of her skin he could get to. "Emmett–" Y/N's whiny voice would never cease to make him lightheaded as he moved lower, kissing a trail they both knew by heart already. "Keep saying it, baby. Keep saying my name" His voice was rougher with lust as he kept her legs apart, kissing her stomach and hips. She had a hard time staying still, squirming needily in his grasp. "Come here.." He cooed, looking her in the eyes as his face moved closer to where she needed him the most. "Let me take care of you" Emmett whispered, as his face leaned down, diving between her legs.

~

Tommy Shelby - Thomas loved the control he secretly held over Y/N when it comes to her needs. Being so fluent in directing them with his touch or affection. The way she'd move around, doing her own thing while pretending to not feel how he looked at her. "Come here, darling" He'd eventually call out, patting his thigh. He'd use the close proximity to look her in the eyes, encouraging to talk about her whereabouts when he was at work, while petting her thighs lightly. He touched and felt, eyes following the tender lines of her body beneath the clothes she wore. He'd proceed to touch caress her cheeks, pulling her closer as he murmured how beautiful she was. Y/N could never remain unaffected under his rough fingers and soft words, leaning into his touch with a sigh. "You're my good girl, aren't you? Always so good for me." He purred, feeling how fast her heartbeat became under the weight of his seductive words. He'd gently rub her inner thighs, before parting her legs and letting his hands claim what was his Swallowing every cry that would come out of her mouth not longer after, as she writhed on his lap in orgasmic spasms.

[signanothername]

If someone had found baby corrupted nightmare and taken him in, raised him, like, say for example, blue, how differently do you think everything would have ended up?

(*COUGH COUGH* totally not just pushing my dad swap agenda nope nuh uh *COUGH*)

i just imagine nightmare sneaking into his room at night to curl up near his bed like a dog, and IMMEDIATELY skedaddling when he senses him wake up.

This poor kid is freshly dead (alive? Born?) he is in Desperate need of comfort 💀 but it's not like he's gonna ask for it outright.

And i horrendously need someone to hold him and give him warm food and new clothes and toys to play with and blankets and tuck him in at night and Hold Him and feed him medicine when he's sick and read hin bedtime stories and rock him to sleep and give him a comfort plushie or blanket or item of sorts and HOLD HIM and-

ahem, so anyway, what do you think? How differently do you think he would've ended up? Cuz i think it'd be a lot different if nightmare was shown care by someone for once and comforted by someone who wasn't a fellow traumatized six year old.

And, yknow, was an adult who knew what they were doing and didn't hate him for no reason 💀

Ooooh :D

Yeah I definitely think he would’ve grown up a much different person, cause he wouldn’t have relied on himself to survive, he wouldn’t experience the constant fear of the many ways he could get hurt or die

He definitely wouldn’t have starved on negativity cause he didn’t know how to balance it anymore

And if he was actually raised by a loving parent that’s actually present in his life to guide him through it enough to find a healthy outlet for the horrors he experienced, as well as help him with his emotional, mental, and physical health a lot better, his life would be a lot easier

I think he still would be a lot more grumpy and a bit aggressive than he was before the corruption, and the Apple incident would still have a great impact on his psyche, he’d still hold a bit of fear inside, but that fear won’t end up guiding all his actions, and it definitely wouldn’t lead to him becoming power hungry, doing whatever he deems necessary to obtain it

Hell, even with how the corruption twists his happiness from something pure to finding joy in the misery of others, I still think with a loving parent raising him, he will find healthy outlets to his emotions, whatever they may be

I think he might eventually tell his parent figure about what happened with him, with his mother, with his twin, maybe even Dream would find himself in a lot better circumstances when he awakens from stone, finding a brother patiently awaiting him, finding himself waking up in warm welcoming arms, I definitely think it’ll contribute to the twins’ relationship being a lot better, a lot healthier

Their trauma would still put a few wrenches in their journey, but it definitely wouldn’t go so sour and bitter, Nightmare would be a lot more open towards Dream’s love and affection, hatred won’t taint his heart and cause their relationship to go so wrong

Generally, I definitely think it’ll be a lot more fluffy and slice of life-ish, which is super wholesome to think about

Now as for Blue specifically being the father figure, only two words, FUCK YES.

But I feel like, as a very traumatized lil child who doesn’t know any better, who had adults hate, hurt and even try to kill him, Nightmare would simply not trust Swap, not immediately

So it’d be really fun to see Nightmare actually warm up to Swap first way before he takes Nightmare in to raise and take care of him, it’d be fun to see what Swap might do to gain Nightmare’s trust enough for Nightmare to even let him within 10 meters without running away immediately or attacking him

May I also present some suggestions for another parental figure that could be really fun to explore? Color, I’d love to see him take care of a little newly corrupted Nightmare dhhdhdhd

Anyway *cough* this is such an adorable possible multiverse *cough*

[arvandus]

The Beauty of Broken Things

Barbatos x GN!Reader

Content warnings: SFW; reader with (vague) mental health issues; Reader has self-deprecating thoughts and low self-esteem; hurt/comfort; lots of dialogue; romance; first kiss (cuz I'm a sap 💚)

Author's Note: Not me coming out of hiatus to drop this at 1:20am on a weekday. ANYWAY.... I was going through it a month or so ago and this was very therapeutic and self-indulgent to write. Hopefully you'll find some comfort in it as well. 💚

You creep into the RAD greenhouse under the cover of the Devildom darkness.  The warm yellow lights, usually on to allow students to observe and take notes,  are turned off for the evening, causing the devildom flora to transform from something familiar to something alien, branches reaching like arms and long, pointed leaves stretched out like grasping fingers.

But despite the sinister threat of danger that is interlaced in the native plant life, it still feels comforting.  The gnarled limbs and black leaves feel more protective than threatening, arching over your head to provide a canopy of privacy in the quiet, uninhabited space.

Usually the greenhouse is a bustle of student activity, with botany classes often perusing the aisles with their notebooks and art students lingering with their sketchbooks.  But classes had long since ended, the busy chaos of academia ushered away by the sinking of the large Devildom moon, bringing with it night within night.

You need this.  You need the silence, the privacy, the darkness.  The House of Lamentation doesn’t offer it.  The Demon Lord’s castle is also not an option as you don’t want to impose purely for the sake of self-isolation.

No, this is perfect.  It is safe, safer than losing yourself in the real forests that press against the outskirts of the Devildom.  It is a place for hiding, a place for becoming invisible.  It is a place that makes you feel small, from the tightly clustered plants around you to the vast starry sky that slowly rotates high beyond the confines of the glass ceiling.  You could almost pretend you’re a bug, an insect, or some other small life form who’s only purpose is to exist in the here and now, moment to moment. 

Maybe then you could find peace in your mind; maybe that voice of sickness and lies that whispered louder than any demon would fall silent.

Not all days were this bad.  But the added stress, the fatigue.... you knew it was only a matter of time before you found yourself dangerously close to that pitch black rock bottom. You felt it encroaching, a shadow teasing the edges of your mind, and you knew... you knew you had to find somewhere to gather yourself, to work through it without interruption or curious eyes.

This helps.  A place of quiet, of privacy, of nature, even if the nature isn’t your own.  In its own alien way, it’s perfect.

Perfect, but also lonely. You both love and hate it, glad to be unnoticed for once but vulnerable against the rare isolation.  Rare, but not unfamiliar.  You sit with it; let it soak into your bones.  Like putting on old shoes that still fit, worn soles perfectly conformed to your feet, your mind eases into accepting that familiar ache, a feeling not often experienced anymore, but still deeply rooted in old memories and dreams.  The old loneliness hollows you out, slows the blood rushing through your veins as your mind eventually quiets to a low hum of white noise.  It brings its own twisted kind of peace; not the healthy kind that heals and rejuvenates, but the broken kind that separates you from yourself, an act of cutting rather than mending.

If you could turn to stone in this moment, you would.

But not even this will last forever, your quiet reverie interrupted by the sound of the door to the greenhouse opening and closing.  The sound of the click and the creak of the hinge is startling against the endless quiet, and it makes you jolt.  You fight the irrational urge to hide within the surrounding shrubbery, as if such an act would truly hide you at all, and instead curl in on yourself with arms and legs crossed on the stone bench where you sit.

Whoever it is, is as silent as a ghost; you hear no footsteps, nor sounds of breath.  Whoever it is does not speak, so you know instantly it is not any of the brothers or even Diavolo.  But you feel their presence, and you know they feel yours.  There is an awareness in the air that wasn’t present before, the atmosphere going from one of empty quiet, to buzzing consciousness.

A moment later, a familiar pair of polished black shoes come into your field of view, attached to a familiar set of legs that stand formally in a way that only a royal butler could accomplish.

You look up and your eyes meet Barbatos, who stares down at you with a calm, curious expression and a slight tilt of his head.  He’s still dressed in his RAD uniform, but his white gloves are removed, likely tucked into the interior chest pocket of his tailcoat.

“MC,” he says gently.  “I did not expect you to be here. You do know that the RAD campus is closed, yes?”

“I know,” you reply. 

Even so, you make no motion to move, your body still curled within itself protectively.  It isn’t so much to protect against him, but to hold onto that feeling of smallness that helps to separate you from the ache in your chest and the cacophony of your mind. 

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“Some of the flora require care after school hours, so I tend to them prior to locking up for the evening.”

“Ah.” Your sour mood strips you of your warmth, your words fading away as you retreat back into yourself.

Barbatos stares at you for a moment longer, before gesturing to the bench. “May I?”

You return his stare with your own before moving over just enough to make room for him.  The bench is small, comfortable for one, a slight squeeze for two, but he sits nonetheless, seemingly unbothered.  The proximity of him is a brand and a blessing, the heat of him surprisingly comforting while your heart thuds harder in your chest.  You’re rarely ever this close to him, any prior instances of physical contact occurring out of necessity rather than choice.

You both sit in silence for a long time.  You aren’t sure if he is expecting an explanation from you, but you couldn’t give one even if you wanted to, the struggles within yourself too tangled to fully unravel, especially with how weathered you feel.

Finally, after a few minutes, he is the one to break the silence, the smooth richness of his voice breaking the quiet that sits like a bridge between you.

“I often find the Devildom flora more beautiful in the dark.”

It is an olive branch, and you take it, a small smile curling the corners of your lips.

“Me too,” you reply.  “It feels more natural this way. When the lights are on, it feels like we’re trying to force the plants and flowers to be something they’re not.”

Barbatos stares at you for a long, quiet moment before returning his gaze ahead of him.  “Indeed. Things are more beautiful when they are allowed to be themselves.”

A sentiment you share, and yet it isn’t one you can extend to yourself, and it cuts you.

“I wish that were always true...” you mutter.

It’s a thought whispered past private lips, and you regret them instantly when his keen, green eyes, nearly black in the darkness, flick back to you.

“Why would it not be?” he asks.

You shift uncomfortably and swallow the lump that suddenly manifests where your voice is supposed to be.

“I don’t know...” you finally mutter evasively.

You feel his eyes lingering on you, and it feels as if he can read the dark thoughts that live there, shadow where sunlight should be.  But if he can read your mind, he doesn’t say so, and he doesn’t pry further.

Instead, Barbatos does something that you do not expect.  His hand covers yours, untangling your fingers from your tightly clasped palms that sit in your lap.  His touch is warm, warmer than you thought it’d be, and you can’t help but wonder how different his body really is from yours when it feels so human.

You watch as Barbatos twines his fingers with yours, a simple but shockingly intimate action.  It’s surprisingly comforting, fulfilling a longing within you that you didn’t even realize you carried so heavily until just now; an anchor of companionship, unwavering in its simplicity, gentle in its unassuming nature.  There’s a lack of expectation in Barbatos’s touch, a quiet acceptance of the here and now, of the you of this moment, rather than the ‘you’ that you always present to others, or the ‘you’ that others expect of you.

It makes something within you surrender.  It forces the dissociation from your mind, pulling you instantly back into reality, into your body. Barbatos’s tenderness, given freely without price, carves a space for itself within your chest, and it hurts, the sudden sharpness of vulnerability an open wound.  That vulnerability is unfamiliar, raw, terrifying. It calls forth your fears, makes the voices of wrongness sing louder than ever, listing all of the ways you are undeserving of this moment.  And you’re angry, angry at their presence, and their ability to ruin even this for you, to taint something peaceful and beautiful with something so ugly.

The tears finally come, blurring your vision and spilling over silently onto your cheeks.  More come immediately after, and you sniff, your nose starting to run as you wipe at your face.  A handkerchief appears within your view, and you take it, your heart too shy and embarrassed to look at Barbatos properly or even offer him a mumbled thank you.  But he shows no discomfort or disdain for your tears or lack of manners. Instead, he sits quietly with you, waiting patiently as he holds your hand securely within his own, his thumb rubbing soothing strokes on the soft skin between your thumb and index finger.

Quietly you cry, and quietly he waits.  Each second longer that you cry is a confession of your imperfection, your brokenness, and each second longer that Barbatos stays by your side is an acceptance, a forgiveness.  And so, without even speaking to one another, the very act of this shared moment provides a cleansing of your heart that you’d never felt before.  Each drop of salty water is a purge, a release.  There’s an amusing irony to it; an exorcism of sorts in a place where God isn’t welcome, supported by a creature who’s existence came from darkness.

The catharsis brings release, and the release brings fatigue.  The rigidness of your spine gives way to something more pliable, and you lean your head against his shoulder as you continue to weep, albeit gentler now that the worst of it has passed.  Barbatos lets you, his thumb barely missing a beat in its strokes against your hand.  He makes no effort to increase his physical reassurance; no arm around your shoulder, no leaning of his head against the crown of yours.  You’re grateful for it, not quite ready to be touched so completely.  Maybe soon... after all, the thought does entice you... but not yet. Not when your heart is still raw and tender.

No, this is perfect. It’s just enough.

Finally, the floodwaters of your heart recede, and you wipe away the last traces of wetness from your cheeks with his silk handkerchief. It’s damp with tears and snot now, and you know you’ll have to wash it before returning it to him.  You fiddle with it with your free hand, your thumb tracing along the cursive B that is sewn into its corner with dark thread, the color muted to black in the dark.

Your hands are still intertwined with each other, your head still resting against his shoulder, and you’re grateful for it as you find the courage to finally speak, your eyes still trained on that cursive B.

Your voice is quiet, hushed by hesitancy.  “Barbatos...I have a question...”

“Hm?”

“When I die, and my soul leaves my body.... does.... does that mean that the mental illness won’t be there anymore?  Does that part get left behind?”

“Ah,” Barbatos says softly, his voice rich with understanding. “I see.”

You sit up, although his hand still holds yours; after all, you haven’t pulled away yet.  But your eyes... your eyes are downcast, the shame of your breakdown too heavy regardless of Barbatos’s tenderness.

Now that you’ve finally confessed your fear it becomes easier to speak, and the words come more freely.  “I’m just... I’m tired of being this way.  Feeling this way, thinking this way.  It’s always there, like this big, lurking monster that I can’t escape from. Except it’s a part of me. I don’t know who I am without it. And I’m—” tears choke your words, but you force yourself to continue even as your eyes once again brim and sting.  “I’m just so afraid that it’ll never go away. Even when I die, and my soul is separated from this broken fucking body—”

A long, slender finger covers your lips, halting your impending tirade of self-loathing.  It forces you to finally look at him, and you’re surprised to see how deep the concern goes within his dark gaze.

“Shh,” he says.  “Don’t say such things.  It does the richness of all that you are a disservice.”

His words stun you into silence, and you stare at him wide-eyed.  He holds your gaze for a moment longer before taking the handkerchief from your clenched fist.  You start to protest, embarrassed at the state of it, but he ignores your concerns and uses a relatively clean spot to wipe away your new tears.

You fall silent as he cares for you, and in that silence, he begins to speak.

“You humans so often like to label and categorize things, an attempt at making sense of the world around you when you’re forever doomed to know so little. Lines of comparison drawn on a beach, not realizing that in the end, it’s all made of sand.”

You frown. “I don’t understand.”

“What you’re speaking of is a sickness of the mind, correct?”

“Yes, that’s one way to put it...”

Barbatos takes your palm in his hand and turns it face up.  “I’ve heard you humans often use the term ‘mind, body, and soul’ as if they are all separate.  Back when I spent time in the human realm, humans treated the soul as synonymous with the heart and the mind as synonymous with the brain, both housed within the body.”  With his finger, he draws one large circle, and within it, places two dots vertically spaced from each other.

You stare at your palm as you ponder his words.  “Yes,” you say, “that idea still lingers... sort of...”

 You take his hand in yours, and draw your own circles – a small, a medium, and a large, all inset within each other like a target.

“I think... I see the soul and mind as synonymous of each other, in way, that they depend on each other. Or...”

 You hesitate, your fears surfacing again as you stare at Barbatos’s open palm.

 “I think...” you continue slowly, “I think I’m afraid that they’re the same thing. That the soul only exists because of the mind. If that’s true, then if my mind is broken, then so is my soul, and I’ll be carrying that brokenness with me forever.  It’s like... trying to forge something using a metal riddled with impurities.  The integrity will always be compromised, no matter how beautiful the shape in the end.”

Barbatos’s open hand closes around yours, cradling your fingertips that still rest against his skin. He turns your hand over palm up again.

“Imagine this” – he draws a large circle – “is your body. And this” – he draws a smaller circle within it – “is your mind.”

You wait for the third circle, but it never comes.  You frown.

“Where is the soul?”

“Everywhere,” he says.

Your gaze lifts from your open hand to his eyes.  He smiles back at you in quiet mirth, then drops his gaze back to your hand.  His fingers retrace over the larger circle he’d first drawn into your palm.

“Your soul,” he repeats, “is everywhere.”

Confusion once again surfaces in the contours of your face. Barbatos stares at you for a moment as he searches for the words in a way that you can understand.  His eyes sink deep beneath the surface of you, and it makes you shift beneath his gaze.  After a moment he blinks, his amusement returning.

“Perhaps it is my choice of words that is unclear,” he says. “Allow me to try again.” 

He pokes your forehead with his index finger.  “Your mind is not the same as your soul the way you fear.  It is simply consciousness, self-awareness provided you by your biology,” he explains.

“You mean my brain.”

“Yes.”

“So my mind is just another part of my body.”

“Precisely.  Your body is merely the medium through which you experience this life, whether it’s through your senses, such as sight and touch, or through your consciousness.”

He returns to your hand, his fingers tracing the invisible large circle for a third time.

“Your soul, on the other hand, is a different thing entirely.  It isn’t something that can be contained to one organ within you.  Not your heart, not your brain.  It’s deeper than that, richer,” he says quietly, as if sharing a secret.

His touch travels, his fingertips gliding feather-light across your palm, up your wrist, following the tendons and veins to your forearm where goosebumps begin to awaken across your sensitive skin.

“It’s energy.  It’s life,” he continues. “It’s eternal, and it’s woven into every fiber of your being, a golden thread holding you together like the universe’s most exquisite tapestry.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers curve around your forearm until he holds it within his hand, his thumb rubbing gently against the soft skin where your veins rest beneath. His words enrapture you, his touch enthralls you. If there was ever a moment in your life you could stay trapped in forever, it would be this one.

But the moment is short-lived.  Barbatos’s soothing touch halts mid-motion, his expression turning blank, as if he suddenly remembers himself and realizes the growing intimacy of the exchange.  He withdraws his hand, and it leaves a cold emptiness where his warmth had been.

You ponder his words, but it only leads to more questions.

“My soul is everywhere...” you mutter.  “But Barbatos... if it’s woven into my body, then how...?”

“How does your soul pass on after you die?”

You nod.

Barbatos holds his chin in his fingers thoughtfully.  “You are thinking too literally.  Perhaps it is my own failure to find the right words.  Human speech doesn’t offer enough nuance to fully describe something your kind still struggles to understand.”

He ponders a moment longer, his brow knit together in concentration.  Finally his head lifts and his gaze meets yours.  “Ah.  Perhaps we can describe it as such.  Your body is made of matter, correct? And if you look deep enough, you know that all matter is made up of atoms.  But not even atoms ever completely touch.” He takes your hand in one of his and holds it up, your palm facing him, as he brings his other hand within a hair’s breadth; close enough to feel the heat emanating off of him, but not actually touching.  “There’s a negative space, ever present yet so infinitesimal that you’d never know it’s there.”  His hand finally touches yours, his fingers aligned with yours as he splays them out.  “It is this space that your soul exists, interwoven, encapsulating every atom of what you are.”

You’re staring at your touching hands, wide-eyed now, as you take in what he’s told you.  The scope of it feels nearly too vast to properly comprehend, despite how hard you try.

“It’s all very... complicated...” you mutter as you finally lower your hand back to your lap.

“Hm, is it?” Barbatos replies with a curious tilt of his head.  “Here then, another example, but simpler.  If you were to lose a limb, would it damage your soul?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re separate.”

And finally, it clicks for you. 

Barbatos smiles.  “Precisely.  So, if a lost limb will not damage your soul, then why should a damaged mind?”

The weightlessness of relief begins to spread from the center of your chest, and you release a long, deep breath.

“I see,” you say.  “So when I die...”

“When you die, your soul continues on, transformed, as your body decays.”

The balloon of relief breaks and you do a doubletake.  “...transformed?”

Barbatos nods.  “Yes, by your experiences and choices in this life.”

Once again that despair rears, the dark void opening beneath your feet as you cling to your dwindling hope. You once again wrap your arms around yourself protectively, as if you are the only one who can keep yourself from falling, despite the presence of the demon directly in front of you.

“But... Barbatos,” you protest, “sometimes mental illnesses can cause people to make bad choices.  Wrong choices.  Hurtful choices.  If those can impact the soul, then wouldn’t that mean the soul does get damaged? Or tainted?”

Barbatos falls silent for a long moment, and you avoid looking into his eyes, your gaze downcast.  His hand reaches out and covers your forearm reassuringly, but your arms remain crossed.

“As a demon, I cannot attest to how just the Celestial Realm’s rules are.  I, for one, find them to be rather suffocating and arbitrary, lacking in nuance.  But even I would be shocked if such things weren’t taken into consideration when it is time for a soul to be set upon the scales of judgment.”

Scales of judgment... the idea makes you nauseous.

Barbatos’s touch to your forearm is replaced by both of his hands on your arms just below the shoulders.  You can tell from the way he moves that he is ducking his head lower in an attempt to catch your avoiding eyes, but you keep  yourself hidden lest your tears return.

“MC....” he says softly,  “are you worried that you will be judged unfairly when your time comes?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, and when you do it’s thicker, heavy under the weight of emotions.  “Maybe... or maybe I’m worried I’ll be judged fairly.”

“If you do not go to heaven when your time comes, then the Celestial Realm truly is run by fools.”

His words surprise you, and you finally catch his gaze, amusement beneath a raised, sarcastic brow.  Your skin grows hot and you avert your eyes for a different reason, your shoulders lifting slightly in subtle retreat.

“Well,” you continue, “you said yourself that the soul gets transformed during this life.  I’ve made some not-so-great choices, so far.  I’ve done things I regret; hurt people I’ve loved and even people I didn’t.  What if my soul is not as good as I hope?”

Barbatos gives a soft scoff of amusement, his brows pinching up in the center as he stares at you in wry amusement.  “My dear, the very idea that your soul is anything but good is quite literally an impossibility.”

Your tension loosens slightly. “How do you know?”

The corner of one side of his mouth quirks up slightly. “Well, to start, I am a demon. And as one of the oldest demons, I have devoured countless souls across my lifetime.  If anyone is to be an expert on the quality of a soul it would be me.”

Something about the way he talks so simply about his violence, combined with his intimate kindness, makes you feel lightheaded.

It takes an extra heartbeat for you to find enough air in your lungs to speak.  “And, uh...what does a demon such as yourself consider high quality?”

Barbatos stares distantly, and for a moment he feels ancient.  When he speaks, his voice seems almost otherworldly, holding a resonance to it that wasn’t there before.  “It varies from demon to demon.  Some enjoy the flavor of corruption upon a soul, some prefer the sweet, crisp freshness of innocence and purity... but all human souls possess something that ours lack, something that makes us crave.  We’re drawn to it, in the way your human realm plants are drawn to sunlight.” He pauses and shakes his head.  “No, perhaps that analogy is too mild.  It is more how the Devildom’s Succubus’s Kiss lures its victims into its choking vines with the sweet promise of fruit.”

You swallow for a moment, your throat suddenly dry as you stare at your now empty palms where your longing for him sits abandoned.

“You make it sound as if humans are the dangerous ones,” you chide.

A half-hearted attempt at a joke, but Barbatos chuckles nonetheless.

“Yes; perhaps you are.”

You can’t tell in this moment if he’s referring to ‘you’ as in humanity, or ‘you’ as in something far more personal.  It only makes the curiosity sharper, honed on the whetstone of your pining.

“And my soul...” you continue, “what do you sense, Barbatos?”

Dread immediately follows your bold and vulnerable question, fearing what he must inevitably see in you.  Is Barbatos the type to enjoy the flavor of corruption, to find value in broken things?  Or is he more of a purist, always a keen eye for perfection?  You fear you already know the answer as you take in his crisp RAD uniform, his perfectly smooth features.  Your gaze falls downward, an attempt to hide what you’re sure he already knows.

One heartbeat, two.  Then your chin is being tilted up by his thumb and forefinger until your eyes are forced to meet his.  There’s a hint of luminescence in them, the green noticeable now where it wasn’t before, pushing against the dark monotone of night that previously washed his irises in near-black. His eyes are searching, seeking, finding, and you can feel the magic, the power that unravels every defense, every barrier.  Finally, his gaze settles, the green quiets to a deep, sleeping forest of pine in winter.  It’s peaceful; soothing.

If Barbatos’s earlier release of your arm was to provide distance from the growing intimacy between you, then the attempt was in vain.  Because now the affection in his gaze is unmistakable, the deep shadowy green cradling you the way his fingers cradle your chin. It weakens you, makes you feel like putty in his touch.

“You glow,” Barbatos whispers, “like sunlight trapped in ripples. It’s blinding, and yet so beautiful I find it impossible to look away.  I can feel it in you, emanating like heat from a hearth, and it makes me long for a home I’ve never had.”

The hum of his voice makes you shiver, goosebumps forming across your skin.  The adoration in his eyes falters briefly, the lingering green fading to black, giving way to a dark, ancient sorrow.

“I think,” he continues, “it’s a glimpse of what heaven must feel like.  A small piece of divinity passed down to you from your ancestor.”

His fingers release your chin, but the vulnerability remains, if not slightly muted due to the distance imposed by the lack of physical contact.

“I am different from Lucifer and his brothers in that I was never an angel.  I came into existence exactly as I am, and as such I’ve never known divinity.  And yet... despite never knowing it, there is still a strange... hunger for it.  It is a peculiar thing to miss something you’ve never known.”

“You... long for Heaven?” you ask him.

Barbatos tilts his head thoughtfully, his gaze absent somewhere past your shoulder. “Not so much Heaven the place. It’s more so the purity, the grace, to feel that sense of wholeness that the divine offers. It’s why we are drawn to human souls.  Angels, you see, are far too potent. Too much divinity hurts a demon; it can even kill them.  But you... you humans have just enough of both worlds within you to allow us a taste.  It can be rather addictive, especially for younger demons who have not yet had enough millennia to control their hunger.”

His pupils dilate in the dark as he refocuses his gaze.  His eyes meet yours and linger for a moment before slowly drawing down to your parted lips.  “You are a rare case indeed.  More potent in your divinity than the average human, but not enough to hurt.”

You quirk a smile at him.  “Barbatos, are you saying I’m irresistible?”

It is a joke, one you feel comfortable making because of its ridiculousness.  But then he gives you a smile you’ve never seen before that makes your stomach drop and your body awash with heat.  There’s a directness in it, a challenge presented in a wry upward turn of the lips and the glint of teeth in the faint starlight.

“Perhaps,” he says.

You try to brush him off with a scoff and break eye contact, feigning interest in the shape of the black leaves that arch over the both of you in the darkness.

“Now you’re just teasing me,” you mutter.

“Oh? You don’t believe me,” he comments. “Perhaps there is more I can do to convince you then.”

Your heartbeat falters, tripped by hope, and you keep your eyes above and around lest you combust right in front of him. 

“Convince me?” you question.

You’re attempting to feign indifference, to protect yourself from the inevitable rejection you know is coming, because surely he’s not... he doesn’t mean.... he wouldn’t... that look in his eyes earlier... affection yes, but that can mean anything...

Barbatos takes your chin in his fingers and pulls gently until you have nowhere else to look but directly at him. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him, into him.  There’s a flicker there, a glow of swirling green, like nebulae trapped within his vastness.

“Indeed,” he whispers, the warmth of his breath upon your parted lips.  You realize he’s closer than you anticipated, closer than ever before.

 Your lightheadedness is returning, and your genuinely afraid you’ll faint, so you force yourself to keep speaking.

“What kind of convincing?” you ask.

He smiles that smile again, the one that turns your insides molten.  “The kind that doesn’t require words, since you seem to doubt them so fervently.” 

His thumb draws gently across your lower lip, his half-lidded gaze transfixed.  “Would you like to be convinced?” he mutters.

You swallow and answer honestly. 

“Yes.”

Barbatos’s eyes return to yours and his lips curl into a soft, genuine smile.  He closes what’s left of the distance, his warm lips capturing yours as his fingers release your chin in favor of gently cupping your jawline.

You close your eyes and reciprocate, your hand resting against his chest.

It’s gentle, soft, and for all of his heavy flirting just a moment ago, it is as unassuming as when he’d first held your hand.  It washes away the last dredges of worry, calms the ever-present unease that always lingers.  The clouds of your mind finally part, even if just for this moment, and for the first time in a long while, you feel feather-light as a peaceful warmth spreads from head to toe to the tips of your fingers.

When your lips part, Barbatos keeps his hand on your cheek and plants a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Now, believe me when I say you are beautiful.  Believe me when I say that you are good.  And most importantly, believe me when I say that I am always here for you.”

Your choked by emotion, your eyes once again burning, but this time for a different reason entirely.

“Even when I’m being sad and pathetic?” you ask, your voice cracking slightly.

Barbatos  puts his forehead against yours as his lips curve into a tender smile.

“Especially then.”

[ailurostheendless]

Now that i think about It genuinely makes me anxious and sad knowing that they weren't in season 1 meaning in original timeline something happened after 1938. They either were killed or had to go away for some reason because you can see they really were loyal and adored Rang as their leader. Even complimenting Lee Rang as a leader who unlike other leaders treated them equally with what they get. So I imagine something really bad must have happened since Rang seems to be alone and didn't want anyone around him and it seemed like it had been years since he's been alone, Yuri had been in Rang's life around 5 year so I think probably soon after 1938 he lost the bandit in orginal timeline. What i think is they died due to some conflict or some reasons why Rang in season 1 seemed more vary of caring for anyone. Like he rescued the dog in season 1 and Yuri but wanted them to go away after he rescued then because he knows the pain of loosing and didn't want to be weak again and responsible for again releasing from their pain from his own hands (which seeing the end of season 1 where he had to kill Yeon all the more worse for him I'm surprised he didn't just k*ll himself with all the suicidal tendencies but then again technically he did since he gave away his life for Yeon). The puppy he rescued definitely reminds him of his own puppy he had to kill as a kid because of the pain it was in the mountain fire human put and was reluctant to keep Yuri around after rescuing her in both of fear and probably experienced loosing the bandit group horribly most likely and also because since the contractor was around with life debt on Rang he didn't want Yuri to be dragged in. Which makes sense because Yuri barely knew anything related to Rang and his life contractor she wasn't around or involved with Imoogi until she wanted to rescue Rang from a fatal injury. There's also that there is good chance the contractor had something to do with keeping Rang alone. Did he have a hand in Rang loosing the bandit either killed or maybe being driven away by the contractor and the contractor uses that to manipulate Rang more.

Honestly the original timeline seems so grim for Rang I'm honestly more curious what else happened when Yeon wasn't around Rang because there's a lot tha happened to Rang during Yeon's absence like after the Mountain was in fire and then there's a huge time skip of him killing people mechanically? Like he's not even himself? Why wait so long to kill the villagers? Something clearly happened to trigger him but we don't know.

Where was he ? How was he surviving? Was anyone with him? And the contractor was suspiciously on time to find a dying Rang even though Yeon thinks Rang survived because he missed Rang's vital point but Rang only survived due to the contractor finding him right on time to use cherry tree soul fruit to save his life putting him in life contractor. I wish at least in season 3 they explore that because we know Rang hates showing weakness and likley didn't tell Yeon. Because for him what's important is Yeon tried to not kill him then (which is depressing really)

Meaning the contractor knew ? Was he following Rang the entire time ? Did he do something to push Rang to kill? Did he know Yeon would miss the mark but fail to save Rang and use that to save Rang himself to kill? Is that why Yeon wasn't able to find Rang once his punishment was done?

Anyways so many questions around Rang's whereabouts. Honestly i would love to see a sequel series of original timeline and what transpired whenever he was alone after the mountain burned down. I want to see everything from then to present times without bigger plotholes to make the ml look better please. Like God the more seasons we get i honestly just have more questions on what happened to Rang in original timeline.

This moment in the second episode made me laugh out loud. 

The relationship Lee Rang has with his gang makes me weirdly proud of him. He felt abandoned but managed to find a group of people to surround himself with.

[jasvtsc]

losing your powers simply meant one thing—you couldn’t disappear whenever or wherever you wanted to. in fact, you pretty much couldn’t do anything.

and with your preservation skills or rather the lack of them? yeah, you were screwed.

as much as dean loved your innocence and good-hearted nature, sometimes he wished you could be a little more reserved and bitchy. not so open to anyone. and by anyone, he meant anyone.

so when he found out that you’ve been hitchhiking with strangers? he was fuming after experiencing first signs of an early stroke. you couldn’t spot a dangerous situation if it was pointed at with neon signs and blasting horns—you thought that since your favourite human was nice to you and his younger brother was also a good man, everyone else would probably be the same.

that’s when dean noted that you needed some exposure to other human beings, like a resocialized puppy.

because when he called you (teaching you how to use the phone was like teaching a baby how to walk, but you got there in the end, your phone only having dean’s number) you were once again hitchhiking.

“what? birdie, no, what the hell are you doing in nebraska?” he sighed, running his hand through his tired face. you were going to be the death of him.

“research,” you said as if it was something obvious. “sam said you needed to check something out here, and since you didn’t have time, i did it,” he knew you were grinning right now, and it just tugged at his heart.

“birdie—” he didn’t have it in himself to scold you. or at least not right now. instead, he sighed and got up, getting his keys to Baby. “tell me where you are exactly. i’ll pick you up,” he said, although he frowned when he heard some weird commotion on the other side of the phone.

“you don’t have to. i’ll be back in the bunker in a few hours,” you said with excitement, and when something revved up, dean’s face went pale.

“birdie, what are you doing? what was that?” he asked, panic already evident in his voice and in his tightly he was gripping the phone.

“oh, i’m on a bike! it’s bigger and louder than normal ones, but it’s so cool! and the kind mister has such a cool beard! it’s so fun!” you practically squirmed in excitement, sitting behind some biker since his gang decided to drop you off.

dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. at least you weren’t in a car where they would lock you up. at least on a motorcycle, you could just jump off (he knew you were capable of doing that).

“tell me you’re wearing a helmet,” he let out an exasperated sigh, closing his eyes as he expected your answer.

“i did. but it was squeezing my head too much, and i couldn’t think, so i took it off. also it was ruining my hair.”

lord have mercy.

drabble inspired by this ask <3