#not out of the blue soulless commands

[cheerfullycatholic]

Hmm methinks that only telling people "that's a sin, repent and believe in Christ" is the opposite of helpful

I think how it's worded is important too, but that's not the point of the post

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Masterlist

Stepcest, Stepson!Coryo x Stepmother!Reader, Sub!Coriolanus, Soft!Dom!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Crassus Snow is a cold hearted asshole. Smut (p in v), Stepcest, Cuckold, older man/younger woman, arranged marriage, cheating, affairs, mommy kink, breeding kink, Sub!Coryo, Soft!Dom!Reader, pregnancy

Part 1:

You were absolutely livid when your mother brokered a marriage contract for you. A marriage between you and General Crassus Snow. Oh gods, how you wanted to puke. He was so much older than you. Like he's a man that's at least 50 if not 60. He's at least a good 30 years older than you.

Just the thought makes you want to cringe. And when you called your brother, Rein, to plead for his help he refused. He's an officer in the peacekeepers based in 12 and he didn't want to ruin his future by getting on the bad side of General Snow. Especially since Commander Hoff highly respected General Snow, who had been the commander in District 12 before he took it over.

So without a way out of your marriage, you're stuck with General Snow. Or Crassus as the cold, sinister old fuck insists you call him once you're moved into the grand penthouse he shares with his mother, Grandma'am, and his son, Coriolanus.

The name sounded familiar to you, but you just shoved the notion away. It's not like his son, who was in his last year at the University, was home much to worry about him. Or at least that's what Crassus said.

So one night while sitting in the main room with Grandma'am and Crassus, who was so cold and hard-hearted that it scared you, you're surprised to see Coriolanus Snow, your soon to be step-son, walk into the room. You also weren't expecting him to be so handsome. Coriolanus was a younger and more attractive version of his father, Crassus. Also, his eyes weren't dead and hateful. Yes, Coriolanus had the shame icy blue eyes that his father had, but his still had a soul shining in them. That much you could see.

Coriolanus' brow rose as he saw you sitting with his Grandma'am and across from his father, who’s nursing a Scotch on the rocks while waiting for dinner to be served, whenever he enters the main room of the penthouse he's been avoiding ever since Tigris moved out into her own place a few months earlier. Coriolanus doesn't remember your name, but he remembers your face from the Academy. You're his age, maybe even a year or so younger, if he remembers correctly.

“Father, you seriously can't be marrying her. She's too young for you.”

“She is a tad bit young, isn't she?” Crassus mockingly asked his son. Looking between you and his spitting image, the cruel General sickly smirks, “But Y/N reminds me so much of your mother at that age. And I’d be a fool to turn down a young, beautiful, wet, tight cunt to give me the heir I deserve.”

“Crassus…” Grandma'am chastised her soulless son, earning her a sharp glare from him.

“Mother, I advise you to stop taking up for the useless boy. My son's weak, always was and always will be.”

But from your point of view there wasn't anything weak about Coriolanus. Nope. Not one bit. He was tall with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, a chiseled jawline, a prominent nose, and large hands that looked both strong and gentle at the same time. He looked like he was carved from the images of the ancient gods themselves

Your wedding wasn't a high end affair. It was modest, but classy. Only the elite were invited. Even your older brother, Rein, was able to get leave to attend your wedding. His girl from District 12 wasn't allowed to come. You thought your brother was a piece of shit for not fighting harder to bring her or for coming without her, but he snapped right back that he couldn't risk his future for some coal dust covered pussy. That your new husband could open doors for him and his career.

And when your reception got to be too much, you found yourself on the terrace of the fancy hotel/ballroom your wedding was being held at. Your life was over before it truly begun.

“You're going to get that dress of yours dirty sitting on the patio like that.” Coriolanus’ deep, elegant timbre sounded out from right behind you.

Looking over your shoulder at the tall young man with striking blue eyes, which held concern in them, and platinum blonde curls, you sigh, “I don't care, Coriolanus.”

“Well, you should care. Tigris worked hard on your dress.” He retorted, coming up to your side and taking a seat next to you. Pulling silver cigarette case and matching lighter out of his blazer pocket, Coriolanus stated, “You feel like your life's over being ball and chained to the hateful old goat, huh?”

“He's your father, Coriolanus. You shouldn't call him a hateful old goat.” You chastised your new, but handsome, stepson with a melancholic tone in your voice.

Oh, why couldn't your mother have brokered an arranged marriage with the Snow son. You'd much rather be married to Coriolanus than Crassus.

“He's my father, so I can call him a hateful old goat.” Coriolanus replied, cigarette dangling between his lips, as he lit up his smoke. Putting his case and lighter back into his pocket, only to take his first drag of his smoke, he sincerely told you, “You don't deserve to be married to such a cruel man. You're too young and beautiful to be wasted on the likes of him.”

You didn't say a word, just gave him a curious look. A look which caused him to give you a thin line of a smile before offering to share his smoke with you- to help calm nerves.

And that was the beginning of something for forbidden between you and Coriolanus.

For all his big talk, Crassus was useless in bed. He, for a lack of a better word, couldn't get his dick up. He even chewed on the special blue pill, but sometimes that didn't even work. And all you were was a warm, tight hole- a fleshlight for him to fuck and rut into. You got no pleasure out of fucking him.

Before or after you said I do.

But you did find pleasure somewhere else. In the arms of your stepson, in fact. As sick and twisted as it sounds, you found solace in fucking Coriolanus. Coryo, as he insisted you call him once you started fucking around behind his father's back.

Although it's taboo in the eyes of society, hell the nation of Panem, it feels right. You and Coryo are of similar age, find each other very attractive, and get along well. Despite what you two have being considered wrong, being stepcest, neither one of you’s going to end your affair.

An affair that's happening in the Snow family penthouse right underneath General Snow's nose. But he's not bright enough to figure it out.

No…

“Fuck…” Coryo groaned, his long fingers digging into your hip bone as you rode his cock. “Mommy, your pussy feels so good…” He nearly pants, kneading your breast with his large hand as he felt your cunt squeeze his cock.

“Your big cock feels so good too, baby.” You whine, bringing your hand to rest on top of Coryo's large one that's on your hip while using your other one to balance yourself by resting your palm on your stepson’s firm chest. “So good.” You sigh, lifting yourself up and quickly sinking down onto the girthy 8 inches that's deliciously stretching out your cunt.

The platinum blonde, whose curls are like a halo around his head, gives you a lustful look with his cerulean eyes. “Mommy, I wanna suck your titties.” He whines, baritone husky, but submissive.

Yes, Coriolanus Snow, the son of the almighty General Crassus Snow, was a sub in bed. A sub with a mommy kink. It was something you discovered the first time he fucked you and, although it stunned you to discover that someone so tall, large, and manly in every sense of the word was not dominant at all between the sheets and wanted ‘mommy’ to boss him around, you didn't shame him for it. Instead, you embraced his kink. Your situation’s already twisted, might as well add in the Dom/Sub mommy kink element to it too.

Coryo felt safe enough with you to share his desires, kinks, and fantasies. Unknown to everyone, his confidence and bravado was a well worn mask and underneath it he's just an insecure boy. But with you, well, he's able to feel needed and like he matters.

And him sharing his mommy kink with you gives you a sense of control in your otherwise uncontrollable life. Being dominant in bed helps you deal with your life as much as it helps Coriolanus deal with his.

You and Coryo have a safe word in play in case he can't handle something, but so far he's never used it. Truth be told, you're a bit of a soft dom to him. But he enjoys it. He enjoys anything you give him.

Grabbing his platinum blonde curls in your hands, you roughly pulled Coryo up towards your breasts. “Then suck on mommy’s titties, baby.” You order, causing him to latch his lips onto your nipple.

Your back arched from the feelings Coryo was coaxing from your body. The feeling of his large cock hitting the special spongy spot deep inside of you every time you spear yourself down onto him paired with the feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple had you feeling euphoric. Coryo was blessed with a magical tongue. Whether it was kissing, eating your cunt, or sucking your nipples, his wet muscle always made you pant and quiver.

You literally begin to quickly bounce up and down of Coryo's cock, causing the mattress springs to loudly creak in the dead of the night, as you desperately chase your high. Coryo bites your nipples, only to soothingly run his tongue over the stinging rose bud. Your nipple falls from his mouth with a loud, wet pop.

“Mommy, please, I wanna cum…” The platinum haired angelish devil of a boy beneath you begs as his hips desperately buck up. He's beginning to feel his release build up and he wants permission to cum.

Permission you won't give him, because you have to cum first.

“Not yet, Coryo. Mommy has to cum first.”

“But, please Mommy. I need to cum so bad.” He whinily begs, eyes pathetically looking up at you while his chin's perched in your cleavage, causing his head to bounce up and down with every movement you make.

“I said no, Coryo. Now be a good boy and stop begging; take what you're getting.” You sharply snap, all the while rocking your hips as you straddle his dick.

“But mommy-” Coryo began to whine, once again, only for you to shut him up by wrapping your hand around his throat and roughly pushing him back down into the mattress.

His icy blue eyes were blown as dark as midnight with lust as you choked his neck, not hard enough to cut off his breathing, but just enough to punish his bratty behavior as a sub.

“Don't be a selfish brat, Coryo. You know mommy cums first.” You tell him in a tight tone, that's a bit rougher than usual, as you continue to fuck yourself on his large cock as he lays on the bed- a look of pure pleasure spread across his face.

You continue to hold him down by the neck as your tight, wet cunt clenched around his large, veiny cock, causing Coryo's to whimper and whine with the desperation to cum. Oh, the feeling of your warm, wet, pussy around his aching cock’s too much. Too much to handle and he just has to cum.

Coryo feels like your motions and movements have been nothing but teasing; have done nothing, but rile him up and make him feel like he's going to explode any minute with both madness and pleasure.

“Please, mommy, I need to cum. Don't make me hold back anymore.” The almighty Coriolanus began to cry as he struggled to hold back his orgasm as you rode his cock harder and faster than before.

Your hand was still wrapped around his throat and that didn't help matters out, since it was a turn on for him- seeing your blood red nails wrapped around his pale throat and lightly resting on his windpipe. His hips bucked up frantically and he panted as he attempted to rebel and chasing his high. But you needed to cum first, it was one of the rules established between you and Coryo for the Dom/Sub play. Despite how desperate Coryo seemed, you had to cum first and you had to give him orders to help you get there.

“Rub mommy’s clit, baby boy. If you really want to cum, rub mommy's clit just the way you know she likes it.” You order your lover, holding back a moan as you feel his tip hit your cervix just right.”

Coriolanus quickly nodded his head, causing his sweaty platinum curls to rustle against his pillow, before bringing his hand to where the two of you’re connected, only to run fast and hard circles into your clit.

“Let me cum in your cunt, tonight. Please, mommy, let me knock you up.” Coryo told you, his voice thick with lust a bit softer than usual.

Your breath hitched as you felt both the weight of his words and the intense pressure of your upcoming release hit you. All you could do was shake your head and half-moan, “You can't, Coryo. I’m married…” Even tho you didn't say the words to your father, they hung in the air like a heavy cloud.

“But don't you want a baby, mommy?” Coryo asks, the hand that was on your hip gliding over to your lower stomach. Slowly stroking your lower belly while pressing quick and sloppy circles into your swollen clit, the platinum blonde below you says, “Let me give you a baby. Please, mommy, nobody has to know it's mine.”

“Coryo…” You gasp, feeling the right know of pleasure inside of you getting ready to unravel.

“You'll look so beautiful, full of my seed. Oh, mommy, please, let me knock you up tonight.” Coryo pleaded his case once more as he lay beneath you, at your mercy since he's your sub.

If you say no and got off of him after you cum then he'll have no choice, but to cum on his stomach (which is what the agreement’s been between you two since your affair started). But if you take pity on him and agree to letting him cum inside of your pussy, to fill your womb with his seed, then he'll be the happiest man in the world.

Coryo feels your cunt clamp around his cock and he knows you're about to cum. He's getting his teeth, holding back his own release, as your movements above him grow more frantic. “Please, mommy, let me give you the one thing that hateful old goat can't. Let me give you a baby.”

You're too far gone down the rabbit hole by this point in your life to say no. You're already fucking your stepson in an illicit affair, might has well have a baby too. Nobody’ll know. It'll be a dirty little secret between you and Coryo.

“Yes, yes, Coryo.” You moan out as you cum hard around Coriolanus’ dick. “Cum in mommy’s cunt; knock me up.” You breathlessly order as your juices messily run down your thighs and onto his.

Your hand that's wrapped around Coryo's remains there as he thrusts his hips up one, two, three times. You gently run your thumb over his Adam's apple as you feel him shoot ropes of his thick, hot seed deep into your womb.

Leaning your face down, you whisper against Coryo's lush lips, “You're mommy’s good baby boy, Coryo.”, before kissing him.

Coryo whimpered into the kiss before needily pressing his lips against yours. He could never get enough of your lips on his. He craves your kisses like a parched man craves water.

“I do love being your good baby boy.” Coryo tells you, his breath a mere whisper against your lips, as he breaks off your kiss to let you catch your breath.

Coryo's softness in your sex life is something that you greatly appreciate. Especially since your husband's so rough when he does manage to get his dick up long enough to do something. Coriolanus being soft in bed, but cunning and calculating out in the world with his studies at the University and his social affairs just shows you how versatile your lover is.

Oh, why couldn't he be your husband?

“Will you stay with me tonight, darling?” Coriolanus asks as you gingerly get off of him and take the empty spot on the mattress next to him.

Shaking your head, you sadly sigh, “You know I can't, even tho I want to.”

“One day we'll be able to be together, my love. You'll see.” He sadly smiles, pulling you to cuddle with him for just a few moments.

Moments that are very precious to both of you.

A month later when you miss your period, you just know that you're pregnant. And when you go to the doctor to confirm your suspicions, you're given both a blood and urinary test. And the results for both are positive.

It's easy to make your husband, Crassus, believe that the baby's his since you drug him with sleeping pills whenever you fuck your lover, Coriolanus. And you know without a doubt that the baby belongs to Coriolanus since when you're stuck fucking Crassus it ends as soon as it begins due to his little blue pill problem.

Grandma'am’s shocked to hear that she's going to have another grandbaby. In fact, she made a remark about how she always thought she'd become a great-grandmother instead of a grandmother again. That remark had Coriolanus' smirking.

Tigris, your neice-in-law, congratulated you when she heard the news, but the look on her face was anything but happy. In fact, she looked a bit worried for you.

Crassus didn't seem overjoyed about your pregnancy. No, he just acted like it was your duty to give him a child. He even made a remark about how the baby better be a son or else he’ll hide it away somewhere- give it up. That remark made Coriolanus mad. He literally got into a fight with his father over it.

Thank the gods, the doctor told you that the baby's a boy. So you don't have to worry about Crassus taking the baby away from you. But you know deep down in your heart of hearts that Coryo would never let his evil old bastard of a father do that to your baby.

To Coriolanus’ baby.

Grandma'am seemed happy to be having another grandson and told you all about how she named her sons, Crassus Xanthos and Cadmus Xanthos, and how the traditional of the male Snow heirs having the initials CXS has been implemented by your husband, Crassus, whenever he named his own son Coriolanus Xerxes Snow. Of course, you assured your mother-in-law that your baby would have a name worthy of a Snow.

Crassus didn't seem to care about the pregnancy or discussing baby names. He just told you that you better fulfill your duty of birthing him a healthy son. He also told you to figure out a name for the baby; that he's too busy as the Minister of National Security to worry about such things.

And since it's your job to figure out a name, you decided to enlist some help from Coryo.

“Do you want me to name the baby? I know he doesn't care about you or what you name our son, but I care.” Coryo tells you one night as you cuddle with him in bed. He's got a protective hand over your belly, always taking his role in it's life very seriously.

The ‘he’ Coriolanus refers to is his father; your husband, Crassus. Neither one of you use his name anymore. It's easier to talk about him, deal with him and his communist rule over the Snow family that way. And right now he's out stone cold in the bed your suppose to share with him since you spiked his nightcap with sleeping pills. It's something you've been doing a lot lately in order to spend more time with Coryo.

“You want to name the baby?” You ask, tears of joy welling up in your eyes.

Coryo smiles, only to say, “He's my son, of course I want to name him.”

“Then you can name him.” You tell the platinum blonde with the halo of curls, giving him a soft smile before resting your head on his shoulder.

“I have the perfect name in mind, mommy.” Coryo kisses your head, his timbre a soft rasp, as he gently strokes your belly. He flinches slightly as he feels the baby kick against his hand. “He kicked me, Y/N.” Coryo smiled in awe, his baby blues shining with pride.

“He’s saying ‘hello daddy’.” You tell your lover, causing him to smile and tell you the name he wants to give your son.

Crassus was too busy working to be bothered by the birth of the newest Snow heir. Coryo on the other hand missed his University classes to be by your side while you gave birth. He held your hand and whispered reassuring words to you through your entire labor.

Since your husband wasn't around, your stepson was given the honor of cutting the cord. The doctor and the nurses didn't say a word, but they did share some looks that implied they thought something fishy was going on between you and Coriolanus.

After everything’s said and done, Crassus comes to visit you and the baby in your hospital room. You're resting in your bed and Coryo's sitting by your bedside with your newborn son in his arms.

“I see you're still alive.” Is how Crassus greets you. A greeting that earned him a cold, narrow eyes look from Coriolanus.

“Yes, Crassus.” You nod. “I'm still alive.”

Looking at his son's, one nearing the end of his University career and the other a few hours old, Crassus makes the observation of, “Coriolanus, I see your bonding with your baby brother.”

A smirk appears on Coryo's otherwise stoic face as he tells his hateful father, “I love him as if he was my own.” Looking between you and Crassus, Coryo adds in, “Mommy let me help her name him.”

Crassus raised a brow, giving his eldest an odd look. The old man couldn't help, but wonder when Coriolanus started to call you mommy. Maybe he'll ask his mother, Grandma'am, about it. Surely she'd know more about the milestones you and his son are making them he does. He is, after all, working to make the nation of Panem a place of order, a place where the Capitol shines and the Districts are kept under an iron thumb.

Looking down at the bundle of joy held lovingly and protectively in his arms, a baby boy with wisps of whitish blonde hair and big bright icy blue eyes, Coriolanus reveals the name of the newest Snow heir to his father.

“Cassian Xandros.”

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[crxshed-skxlls]

Hiiii I'm being anon since I've never done a request before and I'm mildly embarrassed about it KJHFUIOG

do you think you could do something with eyeless jack? either just nsfw hcs or even a fic! i guess to add any suggestions for a fic maybe ej breaking into the reader's home? Could also have dub-con and breeding elements to it if you'd like! Though you can do whatever! ^^ (also gn reader if that's ok!)

OVERALL THOUGH I've been enjoying reading your content n stuff so far and ty for reading this even if you don't do the idea! :D

Word count:

Ooo very intriguing request. Don't worry Anon, your sins are my command 🙏 (my apologies if this isn't the best; it's my first time writing with a gn!reader)

— ❝ Home Invasion

Eyeless Jack x Gn!reader

Word count: 2k+

Plot: You were having an ordinary night, slowly slipping into your bed to a sweet slumber. Little did you know, an unwelcoming visitor gives you a sinful surprise.

NSFW tags: Dubcon, breeding, mating press, knife play, primal elements, bloodplay, biting, implied voyuerism, praise, Masochism elements

Credits for MDNI divider

It was a dark, brisk night. The cold air of the night tickles for body as you lay in your bed. You lay peacefully bliss to your surroundings as you slip into a slumber, your breathing slow as you sigh. You had a long day, and you were ready to get some shut-eye. However, you had been tossing and turning from the uncomfortable chill of the room. You feel a subtle presence in your room, like prying eyes watched you, but you thought it was your anxieties about the dark night. It took a little while, but you finally slip out of consciousness, eyes fluttering shut as you slip away. 

Though, your gut told you right. A dark figure lurked out your window, careful not to draw attention to him. His features muted except for his cobalt blue mask with signature black eye holes. He watches you toss and turn, only for you to lose consciousness. He licked his lips as he prowls, silently opening your window you so obliviously forgot to lock. He lifts the frame with a click sound, quietly stepping into your room. You flinch in your sleep as you hear the subtle shift of your window closing, turning to where your back pressed into your mattress. 

Jack looks around, silently slipping to your bed. He looks down at you, his soulless sockets peering onto your sleeping form. He grabs the corner of your plush blanket, slipping the cloth off of your form. You mumble something in your slumber, shifting in your sleep. Jack has watched you many times before, knowing how much of a heavy sleeper you are. The noirette continued his prowl, getting on top of you gently. He straddles your hips, looking down at your figure with a small grunt. He licks the dried blood from his stained teeth as he slips your shirt up slightly, revealing your abdomen with ease.

You shutter under the taller being, humming as his hand traces your stomach. Jack soon takes out his knife, examining the thin blade made for incisions. Jack groans quietly as his stomach fills with a familiar warmth, the uncomfortable fabric sticking to his growing member. The uttered thought of watching you so vulnerable made his head reel with sinful thoughts. It wasn't long before your eyes start to flutter, which made Jack tense. Your eyes open quickly as you see the unwanted stranger, though there was a sharp feeling to your neck before you dare utter a word. Jack keeps his knife to your throat, leaning in to your face slightly. Your adrenaline made you wide awake as he traces the blade faintly on your skin, making tears prick your terrified eyes. 

Jack smirks at your body's reactions, his head tilting to the side. You watch as his soulless eyes prey upon your form. You shiver, closing your eyes. He let's out a small a chuckle, tracing the blade down to your chest. You don't dare utter a word, the silence filling up the air. It wasn't long until his grim voice spoke, his voice in a rough tone. 

" You're pretty for prey, don't you know? "

He breathes, letting the blade snag at your shirt. He watches as some of the cloth rips under the blade, making you shiver under his grasp. You feel your body become a little flush under the compliment, his rough voice melting at your scared thoughts. You want to shake him off, tell him to stop, but this was something you had been anticipating for a while. It was a weird fantasy of yours that not a lot of people understood, but you thought it was arousing with the unexpectedness that lingered around the thought of a break in. Jack interrupts your thoughts as you hear a tear sound, noticing the blade tear halfway down your shirt. It revealed your collarbones and part of your chest, making the man bite his lip under his mask.

" You're body structure is in great proportions, you know? Great for me to take in.. "

" Why are you doing this? "

You say in a hushed whisper, your soft voice ringing in his ears. It wasn't long until you realized the surprise in Jack's pants however, feeling it throb against his clothing. He pauses his movements, looking at your face. It wasn't long before he lifts a part of his mask with a dark chuckle. Your eyes widen at the inhuman features, his sharp teeth visible in his grin. His grayish features shimmered in the moonlight, dried blood visible on his face. Your hands ball into fists as he leans into your neck.

" Simple. You caught my eye from a greater distance, love. Ever since, it's been hard not to think about how lovely you would look tainted in your own blood. "

His soft tone as he explains to you was both frightening and arousing. The way his words coaxed you in an uncomfortable arousal left you to whimper under him. You never knew such an intruder that had a soft side to his words. You gasp as you feel his tongue lap at your neck, pressing in all the right places.

" Be good for me.. And you might walk off with your organs in tact. Understood? "

" M- mhm.. "

You nod and stiffen under his words, letting out a hushed moan as his tongue traces your collarbones. Jack grunts as he gets between your legs, hungrily nipping at your neck with his teeth. You moan out as you feel his erection press against your sensitive crotch, making him smile on your neck. You yelp suddenly as you feel a sharp pain signal down your spine. Your hands instinctively tug at Jack's back, feeling his sharp teeth bite harshly into your soft skin. He moans at your cries, listening curiously as they turn into moans. As his teeth release from your neck, he laps out the thick blood that spilled out.

It wasn't deep enough to hit an artery or anything, but it definitely was deep. You moan at the twinges of pain, gripping the figure's Hoodie. Jack moans as well, pulling up slightly. Your tear glazed eyes were able to make out the messy blood on Jack's lips, making your face flush a little red. Jack grins at your figure, licking his lips. You shiver tenderly as you watch him lick the blood off his lips.

" I didn't realize you were a such a masochist now.. After all, there's only so much I can see from your windows. "

You gulp as tears spill from your face, panting from the twinges of want and need. You knew this was crazy, the back of your mind berated you for wanting such a monster. However your body clouded any sane thought your brain could come up with. The way he teased and admitted to watching you made you squirm slightly, feeling a little more nervous if anything. You soon get snapped into reality as Jack takes off your pants, along with your undergarments. You squirm more, your hands shifting to Jack's chest as you slightly push. Jack let's out a guttural growl, his eyes piercing into your gaze. You gulp as you watch his blade come up to your neck again, making you whimper out as your hands fall down onto your mattress.

" What happened to being good, huh? "

Jack comments, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. You shiver with uncertainty, but as soon as Jack makes a small incision on your chest makes you moan out in surprise. You hiss from the twinge of pain, but Jack just chuckles at you. He licks at the small cut, making you moan out again in a more pleasurable tone. You soon hear an unzipping sound, making you tremble slightly under Jack. You knew what was coming, and there was no point for your aching body to fight back. You feel as Jack sighs in a somewhat relief, letting his member spring from his denim jeans. You audibly gasp as his cock hits your abdomen teasingly, looking at the sheer size made you flush a deep red. 

" Awwh, like what you see darling? "

Jack snickers at your actions as you watch his cock twitch. He soon positions himself to your hole, pressing the tip to your ass. You look up at Jack with a doe eyed expression, earning a groan from the man. You soon yelp out as you feel Jack slam into you with one strong push, causing twinges of pain and pleasure to fill your body. Jack growls as you clench to his length, using one of his hands to stabilize himself. You feel him slowly pull about halfway out of you, just for him to thrust back into you. You both moan out as he sets a rough pace.

" F- fuck- "

" Yeeah, tha- hah- that's right. Take it. "

You hear Jack mutter out loud as you feel his  dick press into all your sweet areas, causing you to shamelessly moan. He growls almost animalistically as he slams into you, moving to your neck to bite into the same mark he left on your skin. You yell out with breathy moans and pleas for more, but Jack continues to lick and suck at the blood that taints your tender skin. You tremble under him as you feel your body reaching a climax, whimpering out as he thrusts into you. You hitch your breath as Jack hooks your shaky legs to his shoulders, borrowing his dick deep inside of you. You let out moans and mewls as he aims for all your sweet spots, your back arching as you press against him. It wasn't long before you end up coming onto him, choking out more moans. Jack groans as your body tenses around him, earning you a stifled laugh from him.

" Awwh f- uck– you really think were- ngh- done yet? "

Jack grins into your skin as he slams into you, hearing your sultry moans and slapping sounds from his movements. You shake under him as he keeps going, holding you in this mating press as he growls and bites at your skin. You feel as if your ascending as your stomach bubbles and prepares for another climax. You give him choked out pleas, begs but none were answered. You hear Jack muttering in your ears about all the things he could do to you, possessive statements ringing through your body.

" Sh- shit– get ready doll.. I'll make sure you'll– haah– be mine. "

He hisses in your ears as he chases his climax. You let your arms fly up to grasp at his Hoodie again, whimpering as you both chase your orgasms. Jack groans as he slams his dick all the way in your poor hole, his hips sputtering as he splashes white ropes inside of you. You tremble from your final orgasm, spasming as his hips sputter for a final time. The room once filled with slapping and moaning sounds is now filled with pants and breathy moans. Your legs tremble against Jack before he peacefully rests your legs back down to your bed. Jack bites his lip as he pulls out of you, watching as some of his semen dribble out of your cute hole. 

You pant as you feel a sudden tiredness flood over you from all the midnight activity. Jack pulls you in for a bittersweet kiss, making you taste a mixture of himself and your blood. You whimper in his mouth as you feel his sharp teeth as he explores your mouth. He soon breaks the wet kiss with a smirk, a beaded mixture of your salivas connected together. The string breaks as he pulls himself up, getting out from between your legs as you weakly watch. He gets off your bed, watching your limp body as its covered in bodily fluids. Soon, in a timid manner almost, Jack pulls up the covers for you. 

He tucks you in, giving you a warm sensation as your eyes droop in and out of your tired focus. He kisses your forehead, slipping his mask into place as he stands beside your bed. You look at the figure shining in the moonlight, his blue features vibrant. He has a soft gaze on you as you tiredly close your eyes, slipping into your polite slumber again.

" You did so well, angel… Sweet dreams. "

The last mumbles of praise leaves his soft lips as you hear him faintly walk to your window. As he opens the window, you quickly fade into the nonchalant darkness of your subconscious. Your mind echoed his soft words with endearment rather than unsettlment, peacefully passing your subconscious in your sweet dreams. You look at this night in endearment, hoping to see that familiar face again one day..

[revrads]

My attempt at redesigning The Beatles 1965 cartoon! I did an alternate coloring for their clothing to make it look closer to life :)

I added some design notes below if you're interested in reading more about my design choices :)

JOHN:

Faceman of The Beatles, "The Smart Beatle". Many mistook him for Leader because of the way he presents himself

Worst case of Main Character Syndrome

Main personality trait: Strong, confident, mischievous, hot-headed

Rectangular base shape to emphasize the "strength" of the character

Second tallest Beatle, same height as George, just like irl

Lightest hair color (Brown). Hair color is the same as eye color. It makes him stand out. Lighter brown indicates energy

Posture is straight, often with chest puffed out to show a confident, dominant presence

Has the most sharp edges out of the Four

PAUL:

The actual Leader of The Beatles, "The Cute Beatle". Fan favorite potential. Everyone Needs to love him while also be unsettled by him

Main personality trait: Cheeky, flamboyant, sarcastic, extroverted, commanding (at times)

Triangular base shape. Triangles work well for characters who are mysterious and unnatural in some ways. It could also signify hierarchy as characters with triangle bases are usually leaders

Very soft facial structure despite the base. "Doll-faced", uncanny yet friendly-looking with his half-lidded eyes.

Tallest Beatle to signify hierarchy

Eyelashes to give off feminime vibes, makes him look "cute" in a traditional sense

Posture is stiff straight

Pupils not filled in to give off that "uncanny" feeling. It also makes them look soulless, a hint to "Paul Is Dead" theory

GEORGE:

"The Quiet Beatle". His expression is fixed as a frown. Youngest Beatle too, which is why I gave him a schoolboy bowlcut

Main personality trait: Quiet, shy, mysterious, thoughtful

Triangular base shape with rectangular sides. The triangle gives a sense of mystery to his character while the rectangle shows a stable character

Same height as John, sometimes slightly taller

Eyebrows are connected to eyelids and will move according to emotions. Though he doesn't show much change in expression, he's very expressive with the way his eyebrows move

Posture is slouched yet shoulders are straight, almost tense looking

Color palette and hairstyle mirrors Paul's to signify his very close brotherly relationship with him

Skinniest(?) Beatle, also to emphasize age

Fangs! Just like old George had :)

RINGO:

"The Funny Beatle", approachable and friendly, thus the wide eyes and permanent smile. Also the nose.

Oldest Beatle. Hinted at with his eyebags, slouched posture, droopy eyes, and having the longest hair

Main personality: Humorous, light hearted, peaceful, wise, cool

Spherical base shape. Circle as a base shape has always been used to potray a friendly, outgoing, and bubbly character with how soft and rounded the shape is. He doesn't have much sharp edges to show that he's quite literally A Friend

Shortest Beatle, that hasn't changed

Brightest eye color. Very blue to give attention to his facial details. Ringo's facial details are the most prominent part of his face. Bright blue eyes also gives a sense of calm

Though shortest, he has the stockiest build to show that while he's also a friend, he still means business. Built like a himbo except he's actually pretty smart. The stockiness also helps with his circular shape

Posture is completely slouched with shoulders relaxed

Two rings on each hands, even though its not visible sometimes with the way his hands are in his pocket

Big Nose

[lopsicle]

We’ll Take Care Of You

TickleTober Day 8, Exposed Body Part

Characters: Lee! Vox, Ler! Velvette, Ler! Valentino (Romantic, polycules give me life), Zestial (Background/Implied Zestmilla).

Summary: Vox gets injured during a fight with other overlords; Vel and Val help treat his injuries.

Warnings: Fighting, Blood, injuries, scars, Valentino.

•••

Blood. Vox couldn’t tell from where it was pouring, his whole body felt like it was trying to rip itself apart, the distinctive sting in his abdomen clued him in though. The way his leg wobbled beneath him also wasn’t a good sign, he couldn’t keep himself supported for long, his knees hit the pavement. Fuck, why was there broken glass there’s?! Oh right, from his screen. It has been shattered, a large, ugly crack covering his right eye.

He might’ve convinced himself he was on a bad trip with the way his sight was glitching out, different shapes and colours all buzzing in his vision, much like the ones you’d see flashing on an error screen, worsening his throbbing headache. Weakly, a swarm of wires emerged from behind him, crackling with electricity. He lunged his arm forward, commanding them to ram into his assailant, who side stepped easily.

“Thou hath grown weaker since the disappearance of The Radio Demon.” Zestial commented, making his screen flash with a furious, cyan blue brilliance. Vox’s eyes shot open, well, his one good eye did, Zestial had created a sizeable crack over his over one.

“Tell me, art I noht worthy enough to be a challenge to thou?” Zestial asked, his lanky figure looming over Vox, seeming much bigger than it ever had before. Vox stares up at those soulless, toxic, feeling much like a fly caught in Zestial’s web.

“Jesus, y-you proved your point..” Vox managed to muster enough strength to speak, though it was muffled beneath all his static and glitching. Zestial tilted his head, leaning down to examine Vox, his suit torn with sweet, blue liquid pouring from his wounds, face destroyed and humiliated. Zestial smiled and returned to his full height.

“It appears that I have. I hope this serves as a reminder to thou of whom the real overlords of this realm are. Do not think about spitting poison in the direction of Carmilla again in my presence.” Zestial warned him, though Vox wasn’t listening. His audio receptors were too clogged with his own blood. It was only when Zestial began to walk away, leaving the shivering, pained man behind that he reached for his phone with upmost need, even if his movements were weak and limp, like a skeleton clinging to their own grave. A ringing filled the silence around him, answered almost immediately.

“Vox, where-fuck, what happened to you?! Where are you?!” Velvette bellowed on the other end, her stern look boiling away to concern. Vox squinted at her with his good eye and smiled, relaxing his muscles, not having any remaining strength in his body.

“Hey Vel,” his voice came out uncharacteristically weak and tiny, “you look beautiful.” He mumbled, Velvette’s worried, frantic cries for an explanation fading away as his world blinked into darkness.

When Vox came to, he felt like shit. Not as shitty as before, there were no burning pains in his body, just mostly sore. The world around him felt soft and a quick glance around revealed him to be back in his room, though it looked a little different. On his bedside drawer were various types of bandages, cotton balls and ointments, iodines, peroxides and such, along with some medicine and…was that a card? Vox squinted at it. “Get Well Soon,” apparently from his assistant Papermint. Well, that didn’t explain why he was here-

Oh right. The fight. Ugh, did Velvette really see him like that, all injured and gross and sappy? Vox sighed at the thought, before pulling up the covers slightly to take a look at his body. His thigh had been thoroughly bandaged up, so comfortable he hadn’t even noticed until now. His shoes and shirt were gone, revealing a good few scars littered across his torso, precise and thin. Zestial’s nails. That fucking eight legged was freak was going to get what was coming to him, Vox was sure of that at least. He didn’t have long to linger on the thought though, due to the sound of incoming footsteps heading for his room.

“God dam it Valentino, he’ll be fine, he just needs rest!” Velvette screeched.

“Bullshit, he’s been out for a whole day, our novio is strong, he would’ve pulled through by now.” There was a small part of Vox that was resentful that he had indeed woken up and that Val was about to be proven right. His door clicked upon, Valentino’s imposing figure stood next to Velvette’s short one. Valentino’s coat was gone, letting his wings breathe freely, wearing nothing but a comfortable dark tracksuit beneath. Velvette’s hair wasn’t styled at all, simply left to hang freely, a style that Vox found gorgeous. Valentino just smirked confidently at Vox though it was aimed at Velvette, who just stared flabbergasted, before breaking into a relieved smile.

“Really picked an inconvenient time to wake up, didn’t you?” Vel commented, a rare sound of softness in her tone as she approached Vox; Valentino in tow.

“You know me, Vel, I always show up in places I’m not wanted,” Vox smirks, trying to regain some of the confidence he had lost from that humiliating defeat. He could pretend for now. Valentino leaned down next to his bed side, stroking his hand at the top of Vox’s TV head. At this distance, Vox could see through the tint of his red-sunglasses, his eyes were full of clear relief and love.

“You had us worried, hermoso.” He said in a tone that made Vox shiver, not used to Valentino being so affectionate. “Christ, Vel was a mess when she came to me.”

Velvette huffed. “Well excuse me, Vox was talking like he had one foot in the grave already! Who even did that to you?!” Velvette asked, there was fury in her tone, but it wasn’t directed at Val or Vox. Vox really did think he was a goner there, huh? He cringed at the thought of getting all sentimental and mushy in front of Vel…ugh, at least it wasn’t Valentino. He wouldn’t let Vox live that down, though the way Velvette was being so worried about him almost made him prefer Valentino.

“That old spider prick Zestial, but it’s fine, really. I-I just couldn’t see and I thought I was..you know, a lot more worse for wear than I was, it’ll take a lot more than that to keep me down.” Vox bragged, though the other two weren’t all that interested in his ego right now. Valentino pulled out two golden pistols he’d kept on his body, because that’s a responsible thing to bring into a make-shift hospital room.

“So, we’re going to kill this guy, right?” Valentino asked, unable to stop a grin from forming on his face though he was dead serious. Vox interjected before Vel could passionately agree.

“No, no, you two are not about to go and worsen the mess I created. We could hit him where it hurts though, his reputation, I’m sure some of my cameras caught what went down, we could easily spin this and frame him as-.” Vox put a hand to his chin as he rambled though Velvette waved her hands dismissively.

“No, no, no, you are not working right now, your hurt and your not doing anything until your better!” Velvette stated, crossing her arms over her chest, practically daring Vox to argue with her. He still get like absolute Hell, that fight has taken a physical, and unexpected emotional toll on him. He couldn’t let his image continue to slip though, he’d already looked like an idiotic sap to Velvette and a useless, banged up meat sack to Valentino. Now what was he, some helpless baby?

“Yes, I am-ow!” Vox tried to pull himself up, though the second he began to get up, it was like his torso was trying to split open.

“Careful, querido, we haven’t finished with the cuts on your torso. At least let us handle them.” Valentino asked, squeezing Vox’s hand in his own. Vox’s face heated up at the feeling and he leaned back into the bed.

“Thank you,” Velvette added in an exaggerated tone, before comfortably pulling back the covers to leave Vox’s torso on show. She grabbed some of the cotton balls on Vox’s desk and doused it in the antiseptics she had accumulated there. “This is gonna sting a little.” She warned him.

Vox rolled his eyes. “Oh, please I’m not a kid-oh fuck!” He screeched as Velvette dabbed and pressed the cotton ball against the scrapes on his torso, one by one. He squeezed onto Val’s hand tighter instinctively and hears the man chuckle; Vox blushed even more. Velvette winced and worked as fast as she could, thoroughly disinfecting all his cuts. Vox took in a deep breath, trying to regain any semblance of composure as he swatted away Val’s hand.

“You two really didn’t have to do all this, for me,” Vox added quietly at the end, Val put a hand on his hip.

“That’s a weird way of saying thank you, Voxy.” He teased, though Velvette made sure to lightly smack his arm, having finished treating Vox.

“Shut up, Val! And yes, Vox, we did, did you want to wake up half blind with a useless leg? I didn’t think so.” She seemed to shudder slightly as she described it. He hated that she saw him like that already but that just made a little bit of guilt crawl up to his throat like bile.

“I just…never wanted either of you to see me in that state, I-I apologise, it won’t happen again.” Vox’s voice shifted to the tone he’d use when discussing business deals, formal and matter of fact, dropping with false confidence. That seemed to set off alarm bells in his partner’s head. Velvette considered for a moment what to say, but Valentino beat him to it.

“Voxy, darling, baby,” he leaned in, placing his hands on Vox’s shoulders, “do you know how stupid you sound right now?”

Vox’s eyes narrowed with insecurity, Velvette looked about ready to rip off Val’s wings before he continued.

“Do you know how many times you’ve seen me ripping apart this whole tower because of some shit Angel did? Or how Velvette was a blubbering mess when she first came to Hell? None of us three are perfect, we’re in Hell, so stop lying to all three of us.” Vox’s eyes seemed to soften as he looked away, actually taking in something Valentino said. Velvette seemed shock that Valentino said something actually useful.

“You know you have to be wrong if I’m agreeing with dick for brains here. Vox, we’re not gonna view you differently for this, your still our leader. This place couldn’t function without you, we still value you.” Velvette sat down on Vox’s bed next to him, who was feeling warmly trapped between the two.

“Well…that is certainly got to know, just make sure that the details of all this stays between us? You didn’t tell anyone else, right?” Vox asked, to which Velvette shook her head.

“Only your assistant.” She explained, Vox seemed to relieve, able to relax once again.

“Good, good…thank you for doing all of this for me, truly.” Vox managed a smile for his partners, Velvette politely returned one. Valentino remained smug as always but kept his hands on Vox’s body, playfully dragging his fingers down his arm.

“Very good, I like it!” Val praised him in a sickly sweet tone, which just made Velvette roll her arms. Vox on the other hand was much more preoccupied with the way his hand was travelling down his arm, with his index finger gently dragging against Vox’s chest and then just his side. Vox eyed Valentino’s hand, biting at his lip though he was much too weak to hold back his laughter right now, softy cracking up and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Gohohod, Val, stop thahahat!” He ordered, swerving his body away from the man slightly, but Val’s fingers caught up with him, a wide grin on the man’s face as he realised what he was doing.

“Oh, don’t be such a princesa, Voxy, it’s just tickling, it’s not like I’m doing anything…sinister.” That last word came out in a dark whisper, Vox felt his face sparkle with electricity, unable to meet Valentino’s smug gaze. He tried to curl up on himself but one of Valentino’s pair of arms took a hold of his wrists, forcing them above his head.

“Vahahahl, the tickling is the prohohoblem!” Vox whined, his laughter coming out slightly crackly and hoarse, doing his best to contain his snickers. Velvette starting to scribble her nails along his abs didn’t help with that.

“VEHEHEHEL!!” Vox shrieked, tensing his legs; Velvette simply smirked up at him, squeezing at the solid skin.

“What? You gave me a proper scare, you dolt, consider this my revenge!” She declared, skittering those wonderfully manicured nails of hers over his torso, her touches a lot more precise and decorate than Val’s large hands.

“Fuhuhuhuck, why yohoHOHOHu thehehen?!” Vox spat out at Valentino, who just shrugged, his crimson teeth shining with glee.

“I just like doing this, you look adorable, Voxy~!” He teased, pinching the side of his screen, before sharply withdrawing his hand at the feeling of a sharp shock bubbling at his fingertips.

“CAHAHN YOHOHU BOHOHTH QUIHIHIT IT?!” Vox whined in a flustered tone, wishing he could just disappear, or hide under the covers. His partner’s fingers were not compliant with that wish however, Velvette continued skittering her nails all about his torso whilst Valentino squeezed up and down his ribs, leaving Vox’s midriff in sensory hell. Velvette looked a little apprehensive as she noticed how hard Vox was squirming about, he looked about ready to blow a fuse in his head with how hard he was blushing. It was cute, obviously, but she couldn’t help but come concerned for Voxy, pulling away her hands and ushering for Val to do the same by slapping his wrist. Surprisingly, he complied.

“You got off lucky this time, mi amor, but you owe me~!” Valentino made sure to remind him, but Vox wasn’t listening. He smiled appreciatively at Velvette as he laid down, trying to recover.

“You two..you two are assholes..” he spoke with a small grin before figuring to add, “thanks though but, I can handle myself from here and you both can’t afford to stay here watching me all day.” Velvette huffed, knowing he was right. Valentino looked down at him, something close to love in his eyes.

“As long as you say so, Voxy. Come on, Doll, I have a shoot to film.” He stated to which she just rolled her eyes in disinterest and turned her face towards Vox.

“Stay safe, baby,” Velvette murmured, kissing him on his cheek gently, before she stood up. Vox’s eyes had a little twinkle as he looked up at Velvette.

“I will, I promise.”

[katttpchelka]

wowie! Miracle redesign yippieee

I redesigned her appereance and background now she looks more like "frankenstein monster" or zombie bc i got some inspration ambient horror tracks :P

Now her remaked background

Miracle’s origin stretches back to the aftermath of the Crusades, when desperation led scientists to tap into the Backyard. Miracle, once known as the Skeleton Key, was a relic created to unlock metaphysical gates that governed the realms of life and death. For many years, she was used as a soulless tool by various wielders, unlocking forbidden knowledge and powers, only to be discarded once her usefulness expired.

Over time, as the Skeleton Key was passed between hands and corrupted by the desires of its wielders, it began to form a consciousness. This consciousness, riddled with fragmented memories of betrayal and conflict, eventually took on the form of Miracle—a sentient being with a fractured sense of self and a desperate need for validation. She was ultimately found by the scientist Stein, who fused her with human flesh, giving her a physical body but treating her like an experiment.

Stein's rejection after her body began to decay shattered her remaining sense of self-worth, pushing Miracle to the brink of madness. Now, she wanders in search of purpose, torn between her desire to serve and the longing to escape the cycle of being used and discarded. Her journey is one of internal conflict—between the duty as a servant and her yearning to be more than a tool for others.

And Skeleton key design(i know it looks like a Moroha mode Paracelsus but i just wanted a play on bone theme and decided make ram skull for "key head" or idk how it calls ":6 )

Skeleton Key is not as intelligent as other Magical Foci and lives counting on their host and primitive survival instincts. Sometimes, at the host's command, they turn into a humanoid ghost with a animal skull(mostly its a ram skull) blue-green fire coming out of their mouth and wearing tattered and funeral like attire.

wow such big oc rumble sorry o_o"""""

upd 2: A new Skeleton key look :p

upd: i rewrite her background bc why not

[miseries-mistress]

A L𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 H𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 (𝖠 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝖥𝖺𝖼𝖾)

Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Synopsis: It wasn’t often that the OP went wrong, not after all the planning and hours spent pouring over logistics and floor plans, but the darkness often holds unforeseen powers that wait in the shadows to strike. As a result, you end up injured, and Ghost doesn’t take it lightly, his concern mutilated into a body of rage. 

Warnings: gender not mentioned, injury, canon-typical violence, blood, gore, reader is injured, insecurity, self-doubt, slight angst

Words: 2633

Notes: my first ghost fic. just tryna get the feel of writing such a complicated man. 

call of duty masterlist

If your eyes weren't so heavy, you might have come to appreciate how light flickers across Ghost's dark irises. They're a pretty dark blue, almost black in the shadows that skimper across them, with flakes of silver breathing life into the soulless window. His long ashen eyelashes are sprinkled with black from his eye makeup, fluttering gently as he blinks. 

His stare, however, is anything but gentle. Instead, they pierce you, digging beneath your skin to unravel every secret bound in life's coil. Yet, despite his unrelenting eyes, emotions hide behind the cracked veneer of his facade and let you peek at the ever-boiling concern in his chest whenever your gaze is diverted to him.

The tension is palpable, like a tightrope walker balancing precariously between the safety of their starting point and the unknown depths below them. Every movement could shift them off balance, and the slightest misstep could mean disaster. You attempt to swallow the taste of apprehension as it lingers in the air, your stomach twisting into knots. 

The cabin groans, its creaky walls offering you no reprieve from the constant whistling of the trees and the slashing of rain against the dingy pain. You didn't dare to move, worried that the slightest twitch was the very thing to crumble away the safety net the stillness had provided you from Ghost. You didn't dare look at him, but you could feel the dark waves riddled with anger roll off him, drowning you in its smoldering intensity. 

After all, it's your fault that you're both here. 

-

Get in, retrieve the package, and get out. That was the brief, in layman's terms, that Laswell had given you not even a day ago. An assignment you had done hundreds of times before. It was all going well, the task force working and adapting to every new command or plan alteration as you and Ghost cleared floor by floor. Synchronization was embedded into every call-out to ensure everything ran smoothly. A perfect plan, too simple to mess up. That's what ran through the floating, gloomy clouds of your thoughts until you failed to notice a soldier engulfed by the buildings shadows, his body fluid with the darkness, his hands grappled on a weapon of death's design. You were preparing to trek the next flight of stairs, your legs heavy with the constant climbing as Ghost radioed Price. A man, the one who proclaimed his life to the cover of despair, took aim at your unaware figure.

You didn't see the bullet fly or its infamous wizz as it tore like a wild animal through the tissue in your thigh, embedding itself in your muscle. Initially, the gut-wrenching agony you were promised never arrived nor impeded your ability to move as you shot him down and continued to move up the floors, hostile after hostile, falling victim to your violence. It wasn't until the area was cleared that the beginnings of hot ice began to flood your veins, spreading down your leg like a paralyzing sickness. You stumbled, bolts of lightning splintering up your entire leg. Only when a deafening droplet of blood met the reflective, white floor, splattering over the tile, did both you and Ghost finally address your injury.

You almost wished you didn't, from how the angry, gory flesh flayed outwards from the intrusion, grappling to your blood-stained pants. Your hand had fumbled to the spot, blood spewing from between your fingers in your attempt to stop the bleeding. Ghost's eyes grew large, his dark pupils engulfing the humanity in his vision. 

The next part was a blurry, nauseating mess of the rest of the force descending into a frenzied, discoordinated chaos of too many bullets and bodies for a stealth OP as you dragged yourself out of the building and to the nearest safe house. Ghost was quick to comm Price on your condition, despite your admittedly weak protests that it was nothing to waste time on. He didn't take your assessment of your condition very well. 

At first, the pain was nothing more than a pang that migrated down your leg, bearable for the time being. It's when you enter the forest, shock and adrenaline having run their course, that you all but collapse in white-hot agony, black spots obscuring your vision. Ghost is at your side before you can blink to drag you the rest of the way to the location. He doesn't give you a chance to resist his effort; his firm grip a reminder that you are in no position to argue.

A steady trail of blood, thick with the poison of age, left behind proof of your borrowed time, of death's notorious hand perched at your door, ready, waiting. She's been a constant shadow in the corners of every room, a fleeting wisp, a reminder of your constant flirting. And as you often toy with her, death knocks now and again, beckoning you on the verge of your demise to turn the door handle. But, no matter how sweetly she calls to bring you salvation from the torture the mortal world offers, the hand that touches the knob only does so with innocent curiosity, never with the firm expectation of your end. So when soft knocks echo in an incessant, dizzying pitch, beckoning you towards the void of black, you had half a mind to let her in.

The safe house Price instructed you to lay low in for the night had blended in with the rustling leaves of the trees that skimmed its roof, the forest around you offering Mother Nature's hospitality. It had been by luck alone that a storm brewed during your trek to the cabin and released its continents over the mud, washing away the tracks of your presence. However, neither you nor Ghost could have anticipated the temperature drop, your joints creaking with every body-rattling shiver that rolled over your back in frigid waves. You were chilled to the point where your skin was numb to the touch.

With your clothes drenched, your vest tried to push you into the slug clinging to your boots so much so that Ghost practically carried your limping form to the front door, your body clinging to the deliriousness of blood loss as he let you clasp the wall for support. Even though it's a safe house, Ghost still checks the cabin, weaving in and out of your narrow sightline while darkness creeps at the edges of your vision. The pain has intensified tenfold, your ragged breathing foreign to even you as a loose hand covers the bullet's entry point. It seems like hours before he beckons you in.

The place was a tiny thing, no more than a single bedroom and bath. The wood floorboards shrieked under each footfall, your blood matching the pitter-patter of the rain as it dripped on the floor. Only seconds later, the blood in your leg turned to lead and crumpled beneath your weight. He caught you at the last second, his sturdy hands gripping your flesh to lower you into a more comfortable position against the splintering wood.

Ghost moved to a cabinet, yanking out the first aid kit and returning to your side in a blur. Within seconds, he had it open and out of its bag, spilling its contents onto the ground and allowing him to search through the various bottles and tools. Before you knew it, he had gathered the items needed and was back at your side, cutting the fabric of your pants away. He functioned with an intensity and purpose that you'd never seen before. His motions were a whirlwind, the vigor of his focus never wavering as he worked to stave off the flow of your life from spilling further from your veins, his calloused hands operating with a gentleness that belied their strength. He had seen enough death to know the importance of time, his hands a haze of action as he fought to save you from the same fate.

You bit back every cry of agony as his fingers dug and weaved into the fiber of your being, your blood becoming his second skin. He wouldn't admit it, but his chest ached at the sight of you hunched over, your chest heaving with labored breaths as you fisted your shirt in an effort to ground yourself. Anyone could tell how much pain you were in even without the whimpers that slipped from your lips, and he moved faster, his hands working meticulously to ease the pain.

-

You were grateful for the thunderous downpour of rain that stomped at any chance of stillness because now, more than ever, you didn't want to fall victim to the eerie quiet that would have surely settled over you if not for the storm. Yet Ghost doesn't seem to mind it, his hands making quick work over your thigh with sharp pokes of the needle pulling your skin back together. His fingers flex over your convulsing leg, keeping you steady while he finishes up. You watch him, pupils flitting over his hands speckled in white raises, occasionally observing the movement of his stare over the injury. 

With the urgency of your injury out of the way, there's the heat of the silent rage emanating from his build as he finishes up, wrapping gauze around it, your lungs burning with the thickness of the anticipation that permeates your senses. You refuse to move to address the silence you are suffocating in. 

It's now, your eyes fighting sleep attempts, that you take notice of him, all of him. Even his eyes which carry a callous fury. 

"That was fuckin stupid, Dove." You briefly recognize the use of your call sign, hungover from the cold bite in his words hurled at you.  

"I know." Your voice lacks its usual conviction, crushed, ground into fucking ashes by the weight of your failure. 

"You were supposed to clear the room," he continued, a low growl punching from the depths of his vocal cords. "How the fuck could you have missed him?"

If exhaustion, blended with regret and doubt, wasn't creeping in the back of your mind like a morning fog, maybe then you would have recognized the cruelty he carried in his speech was brought from a place of concern but expressed in a seeming ice bath of bitter wrath. His words are laced with contempt and scorn, every syllable dripping with acidic pessimism, shredding your heart with the thousands of knives he plunges into your chest. It's as if all he sees in you is your incompetence, your inexperience. Whether accurate or not, the unspoken words he appears to telepathically send to you- to recognize what he is truly trying to convey under his hardened exterior, fall flat. 

Your downturned gaze is the only indication you heard him. 

"Can't bloody believe you could fuck up so badly." 

The rain screeches outside.

"'M sorry." The wobble in your pupils must indicate the weakness that permeates you and drowns you in a sea of doubt. The notch in his throat bobs for a moment as he sighs through a flared nose.

His razor-sharp stare roves over you as if searching for something. His throat is choked with words of vulnerability. His mind battles against his heart, the beating organ demanding to let you in, to wipe the chest-crushing look of guilt and cleanse your blood-stained consciousness of regret. His mind, however, the very thing that kept him alive, kept him from a deeper, more excruciating pain emotions offer him, urges him to pull away before he can fall to his knees in front of your altar of his design; to protect Simon and him from what will be his destined demise.  

He settles on the middle ground and huffs, an indigent sound muffled by the balaclava. "You're better than this." 

You can only swallow the wad of failure and spit in your throat in hopes of erasing the fragility that takes shape in mortar and stone to build up the damaged mask of strength and confidence you once clung to. You nod your head, your tongue too heavy for anything else.

"Don't do that shit again, ya' hear me?" It's a coarse murmur coming from his strained vocal cords, but softer, delicate even. Two fingers tap against the meat of your cheek, tilting your head while your eyes roam over the shell of his pupils. Only then does his hardened shell seem to melt, breaking down brick by brick to reveal a whisper of the man underneath, Simon Riley. 

His finger grazes the outline of a scar next to your lips as his body shifts into an emotion akin to tenderness. A subtle scatter of shadows in the far reaches of his gaze holds an unspoken understanding, despite the walls of silence he has built around himself. It was as if he could see the turmoil raging within you, insecurities and remorse crashing into each other as violently as the storm outside.

"Could have died today," he huffs, low and ruff.

"I know," it's a soft murmur, acknowledging the fragility of your life, of the threat the job poses. He releases a low exhalation in response, his attention shifting to the dark corners of the dinghy cabin, lingering there for a second. Then, he returns his focus to you once more. 

"Need to be more careful, yeah?" The soft pads of his hands meet your face in a gentle touch, a reminder of the blood that flows beneath the flesh, of the pulse in your skin. Your eyes flutter close, the feeling of bliss blossoming beneath his fingertips. It's all the acknowledgement he needs, knowing too well the loss of any real words. They fell a moment later. 

Ghost moves silently next to you, his body your only hope of warmth to combat the frigidness of the night. He's warm, you realize, and a benevolent gooey feeling builds from the pit of your stomach. It's easy- too easy- to fall into the trap of wishful thinking, to hope for a friendship more intimate than the bond you already share with the lines so blurred. Your hope, which very well might be misguided, makes your heart beat impossibly faster at the possibility that he might share an inkling of the intimate attraction you feel. 

Your limbs are weighed down by sleeps caress, the pain in your leg now subdued to a constant throb. It's easy to forget about the events that transpired today when sleep beckons you so dearly it feels impossible not to give in. 

"Sleep." It's a simple, short command, yet it carries the promise of his protection. It's supposed to ease you and make you feel safe, knowing he will protect you from the dangers of the night, and it works. Your head falls to his shoulder, and Ghost, seemingly anticipating the contact, lets you. You don't have the mental fortitude to dwell on the implications of his actions. Only accept them for what they are. The rain, his warmth, and the promise of safety all ease you into the oblivion where dreams and nightmares dwell, and instead of them spitting you out like most nights you seek rest, they never reach you, not with Simon next to you.

[thevanillerose]

SAVED | YANDERE!CHUUYA NAKAHARA x READER | BUNGOU STRAY DOGS

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warnings: Yandere / Stalking A/N: Request [3/10] for my 100 Followers Celebration!

The first time you met him, you were convinced he was going to kill you.

Yes, you were smart, smart enough to know stepping into that abandoned portside warehouse was a terrible idea. But desperation had a way of overriding common sense in most people, even the sharp ones.

It was in that stale, mildewy place, where the fluorescent lights flickered against your face, that you had met that man. Little had you known at the time just how big the part he was going to play in your life from then on…

Chuuya was just... there. Standing under the dim light in the corner, his sharp eyes gleamed under the brim of his hat, and the faintest curl of a smirk tugged at his lips. It wasn’t friendly.

“What’s a civilian doing here?” 

He was so calm when he spoke, but with something sinister beneath his tone. It made your throat tighten. His hands slipped out of his coat pockets, slow and deliberate, and you could recall being fearful he might soon enough clamp your neck between them. 

“You’ve got ten seconds to tell me, or I’ll decide you’re not worth the trouble.”

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out at first. The words tangled in your throat, fear and adrenaline fighting for control. Finally, you managed to blurt out the truth: you were looking for a friend. They’d disappeared after getting tangled up with the Port Mafia, and the hasty trail you’d picked up had brought you to this sketchy place.

Chuuya didn’t move. Everything about him seemed so unreadable. Though on the surface, as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you could see he was a handsome man. Tangerine red hair, draped in a ponytail over his shoulder. Cornflower blue eyes that watched you curiously from beneath his hat. A gloved hand, reaching up and curling by his chin, amused.

He seemed cocky, and like the type who maybe seemed cool and collected on the outside, but could probably fly off the handle in a millisecond. That wasn’t something you wanted to test.

You swore he could hear your heartbeat, the longer he observed you in that silence. Then, to your utter confusion, his smirk widened, and he tilted his head.

“I can promise you, you’re not going to find anything here. But if you hang around, things won’t end well for you.”

Finally he walked over to you. Although he wasn’t especially tall, it didn’t matter when he was so intimidating. Despite how attractive he was, frankly.

“I’ll escort you out, so stick close to me,” he said casually, though there was nothing casual about the way his tone commanded obedience. “If you wander off, I won’t save you twice.”

Hesitating, you ended up nodding slowly, clenching your trembling fists by your sides as the reality dawned on you that you were probably way in over your head, whether this was the right lead or not. 

Still, even so, you didn’t understand why he let you live in the first place. Maybe you weren’t a threat. Maybe it really had been a dead end, a misdirect into business that wasn’t your own. Maybe…he simply took pity on you.

Either way, it wasn’t the last time you saw him. Not by a long shot.

…

Weeks passed. 

Tragic news enveloped you, as one early morning you miserably had to identify the body that had been dredged up from the river. You had to look at that bloated, pallid face, and acknowledge that your friend was gone. 

You left the station in a daze, clutching a tissue one of the kinder officers had handed you as though it were an anchor. It felt like you were the one drowning in freezing water. The city around you suddenly felt so soulless and hollow, and all you wanted to do was curl beneath your covers and never come out again.

And then you saw him.

Chuuya was standing at the edge of the block, his back to you, his somewhat short but striking figure noticeable in an instant. For a moment, you debated ignoring him, walking the other way, but your feet didn’t listen.

“You!” you called, your voice harsher than you meant it to be.

He turned, his sharp eyes finding you immediately. He didn’t look surprised to see you. Like he had been waiting.

“Rough morning?” he asked, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

You froze, your stomach twisting.

“Don’t-” you choked.

His expression flickered, just for a second, something unreadable passing across his face before his smirk returned. “Don’t what?”

“Do…do you know something about this? Do you have anything to do with this?” you asked, your voice rising. “Did you—”

He stepped closer, his movements smooth and deliberate, and the way he looked at you made the rest of your words falter.

“I don’t think this is the place for a conversation like that,” he said quietly, glancing around briefly at the pedestrians and passing cars on the street beside you both, most of whom were on their way to work at this hour. His tone was calm, but there was something in his eyes that made it clear it wasn’t a suggestion.

You didn’t push your luck, scared to broach the subject further, scared of this strange man, even if you had a million questions. Why had he shown up again, today of all days, here in this place? Who was he? 

How did he know? How did he know your friend had been found? That you would be here?

What exactly did he want?

…

His presence seemed to linger everywhere after that. It didn’t matter where you went or what you did—he always seemed to find you. At first, it was subtle. He’d show up in a café you happened to stop at or appear outside your building at just the right moment.

“You’re paranoid,” he teased once, leaning against a streetlamp. “It’s just coincidence.”

But it wasn’t. You could feel it in the way his eyes tracked you, the way his smile never quite reached his eyes.

It escalated slowly, like a creeping vine wrapping tighter around you, like strings were pulling at every facet of your life. The friends you still had left stopped reaching out as much, their excuses vague and hurried. A job opportunity you’d been counting on fell through inexplicably. And through it all, Chuuya was there, his presence constant and infuriatingly steady.

“Why are you doing this?” you finally confronted him one night, when you found him lingering in the courtyard outside your stately home.

“Doing what?” he had replied smoothly, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes that made your blood boil.

“You know what,” you snapped. “You’re ruining my life.”

Chuuya’s smirk faded. He took a slow step toward you, and for the first time, you saw something genuinely dangerous flicker behind his gaze.

“You’re being dramatic,” he said, his tone almost mocking.

“Am I?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You—”

The words caught in your throat as he moved closer, faster than you expected. You stumbled back, your shoulders hitting the brick wall behind you, and suddenly he was there, his hand slamming against the surface beside your head.

The sound was loud, sharp, and it sent a jolt of fear straight through you.

“Don’t push me,” he said, his voice low and steady, but the intensity in his eyes was anything but calm. “You don’t want to see what I’m like when I’m angry.”

You should have been terrified. And you were. But there was something else there, too—a twisted, confusing pull you couldn’t name. It had been there from the start, the moment you’d seen him. Perhaps that was why you’d made such a foolish mistake…

“I…” you started, your voice barely a whisper, “I don’t even know who you are…but…I know you did it…”

Swallowing thickly, you willed yourself to stay strong and kept talking:

“I-I’m sure…even if you didn’t kill them yourself…you…you knew something.”

Tears began to prick the corners of your eyes, “I bet they were there, weren’t they?? At the warehouse. You lied to me! I can’t believe I trusted you! If I hadn’t, they might still be…they might be…”

Hiccuping quietly, you went quiet, looking down and away from him. Maybe, if you were being really honest, you’d left that day because you were scared.

Scared something would happen to you too.

“...So you’ve got it all figured out? Is that right?”

He leaned in, his free hand brushing against your jaw with a gentleness that felt out of place. Slowly you raised your trembling head, feeling his gloved hand cupping your chin. 

“I think instead of questioning anything, you should be thanking me.” he murmured, his blue gaze darkening to an indigo shade. “Do you have any idea how many people would’ve torn you apart by now if it weren’t for me? This goes deeper than you even realize. You’re lucky it was only your friend.”

Before you could answer, his lips were on yours, firm and deliberate. It wasn’t a question or a request—it was a statement, a claim.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, and his smirk returned, softer this time but no less dangerous. 

“No more questions. All you need to know is that you’re lucky.” he smirked, “Lucky I’m saving you, just one more time.”

He kissed your quivering lips again, biting slightly as he pulled back, his heated breath tickling your skin as he spoke sharply:

“So be grateful.”

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[sullina]

it's been idek how many years (10ish?) and I'm still in absolute awe at how they decided to do the "Rose was Pink Diamond" reveal

They could've done it in a less convoluted way by something like Pearl, instead of saying it, just drawing or writing it on paper (if that would've even been a possible workaround to PDs command), but instead they decided to peel back the layers that are Pearls past, quite literally, and how Pearl felt about Rose in every memory Steven went through.

Pearl loved Rose and was dependent on her. Not just emotionally, but also on a deeper level. On homeworld, a pearls purpose is solely to serve other gems, not to be in charge of anything, least of all themselves.

At first, out Pearl was the same, but Pink Diamond was the one who was different, treating a simple pearl as a person, not like a glorified secretary.

Pink Diamond herself was also different, obviously. At first, she wanted to be like the other diamonds: equal to them and in charge of her own colony, for them to stop treating her like a little kid.

But as soon as she got that, she realized that "wait... this is not what i wanted...". I don't remember which episode it's from, but the whole reason Pink Diamond was so excited to have her own colony is because they were "creating life from nothing", until she realized that what they were actually doing was "taking life, and leaving nothing behind".

Pink Diamond didn't want a soulless army that followed her every command. She wanted real connections with others. Any gem that wasn't a diamond would give her the same, soulless "yes, my diamond" if she were to so much as look at them, and the diamonds themselves often disregarded anything she did as childish antics and often punished her when she didn't behave like they thought a diamon a should behave (mainly regal and soulless).

In just about every single flashback we see of Pink Diamond and the other diamonds, the interaction is bad in some way.

On the jungle moon, Pink just wanted to hang out with Yellow, have some fun, but Yellow pushed her aside like she was a child. Pink blew a fuse and insisted she was a diamond too. Upon Yellow telling her to "act like it", Pink stomped off and smashed a glass panel, where we can then see just how angry she was.

Then, when Pink finally got the earth as her first colony, after deciding that she didn't want to hollow it out and leave it a barren wasteland, Blue and Yellow insisted she finish was she started, not listening to her at all. Instead, they built a human zoo. Blue even told Pink she didn't have to do anything, just exist, and the colony would be finished. (Hence why Pink decided to make it look like she was shattered. It's not that she ran away, really, it's that this was the only way to do what she wanted, which was to save the earth and live on it, with Pearl, and all the humans, who weren't absolutely subservient to her)

Then in the last season, we see Blue actually imprison Pink for releasing some centipede things at one of her balls. Steven and Connie were only imprisoned for a few days, but who knows for how long Pink was imprisoned at a time? The diamonds are nigh-timeless beings, Pink could've been imprisoned for several years, decades, centuries, maybe even millenia at a time. Just existing in a dark room, in total isolation, for the sole crime of not fitting the mold that was picked out for her.

Being a diamond was just... not in Pinks nature. Running a colony was apparently just sitting around and doing a whole bunch of nothing, but that wasn't Pinks style.

She wanted to go down to earth, see her own colony with her own eyes. But that's not what a diamond should do, and i can imagine that Pink thought Blue and Yellow would take her colony away as soon as they got to know that she wasn't behaving properly (like a diamond), and probably punish her again.

But instead of being on her own, she now had a pearl. Our Pearl, who was "supposed to make her happy" (in Pearls own words), and how do you make a diamond who doesn't want to be a diamond happy? You help her not be a diamond!

Pink became not-a-diamond for the first time, and also for the first time, had a real interaction with another gem. That little "welcome to earth!" she said to that one quartz soldier was such a small thing, but to Pink, it was probably the first interaction with another gem as an equal.

And by equal, i mean something that didn't have to listen to her, and that she didn't have to listen to. They were all diamonds, but Blue and Yellow could still tell her "no" and punish her. All other gems were subservient to her as a diamond, saluting to her and ending every sentence with a "yes, my/pink diamond".

Pink Diamond could not be happy, be it as Pink or as a diamond.

Of course she would leave Blue and Yellow and White to go and be with Pearl, a gem considered so low in the gem hierarchy that many considered them to be glorified decorations (mentioned by Peridot when they conceptualized the drill).

Pink Diamond, now Rose Quartz, broke out of the mold she could never fit, and so inspired Pearl to do the same. As much as she could, anyway, with Pink Rose still being there.

In the movie, when Pearl and the others were reset by Spinels rejuvenator, we see Pearl take on the same form she had in the flashback on the moon base where her and Pink went down to earth for the first time.

It's possible that Pink Diamond was the first and only gem that Pearl has ever served. And with gems not having a natural end of life (shattering isn't a natural end, it's murder), it's possible that pearls are only "deployed", so to speak, for one gem given specifically to them. They're not "reused", to hopefully make it more understandable.

Meaning, Pink Diamond and then Rose Quartz, was the only gem Pearl had ever known on a more intimate level, and likely built her entire personal identity around her.

So when Rose decided to have a baby, Pearl was utterly distraught, not only because Pearl loved her, but because Rose was also her entire reason to exist, her entire life was centered around Rose.

Pearl asking "What am I going to do without her?" under tears was not just her being sad she would lose someone she loved, but also in a more literal sense. Pearl didn't know who she was outside of Rose, because she straight up just wasn't someone. Without Rose, Pearl was little more than a pearl without a master, without a reason for existing.

Rose having a baby wouldn't have been possible if the diamonds hadn't retaliated against Rose and the rebellion (thus leaving the earth alone in the belief that there were no more rebels), if Pearl hadn't taken on Roses form to shatter Pink Diamond, if Pearl hadn't agreed to Roses plan, if- if Pearl had never fallen for her diamond.

In the scene where Pearl, as Rose, shatters Pink diamond, Pearl is crying.

Pink is no more.

Pearl shattered her.

The one who came back was no longer Pink, but Rose.

Everything would be different.

And perhaps it was.

But in the end, Pearl only swapped one master for another.

Pearls purpose was still the same, to make Pink Rose happy, except this time the command came from herself instead of another diamond. Pearls existence was still centered around Pink Rose. She bore another name and purpose, but it was still the same gem.

But when Rose had a baby and Steven was born, that is when Pink Rose finally and truly died. There was no turning back. Steven was Steven, not just another form of Pink Diamond or Rose.

Rose was gone.

And who was Pearl without Rose?

[thealwriteytrashdump]

The Night Goddess

An Albert Wesker x Reader one shot Smut fic

“Please make yourself at home, Dearheart.” 

His voice had a sultry deep tone as he shook the water from his tousled sandy hair, slicking it back in an attempt to fix it back to how he usually styles it. He shook his heavy coat off, damp from the pouring rain outside and hung it up the rack, kicking off his loafers, and placed them in the little shoe cupboard next to the door. He glanced at you, as you stood awkwardly in his dark apartment, scared to make a mess. He stood tall next to you, unbuttoning the two top buttons on his blue uniform shirt, bending down and taking your calves gently, his burning hot hands soft but callused against your clampy frozen skin as he gently slid off the old scuffed heels you wore, rubbing your feet in a small attempt to get you warm. 

Watching him kneel before you, quietly, you shivered as he felt up your leg, the warmth contrasting the ice in your veins, his icy blue eyes looking up your body to your face, he squeezed your thighs gently, before standing to his full height, towering over you and unintentionally caging you against the wall. He reached up and rested a warm hand on your cheek, bringing your face up to look at him. You let him, let him do as he pleases, as he ran his nearly scalding hands on your deathly cold body. 

“How long were you out there?” He asks quietly, studying your face, and pushing back your unbrushed, stringy wet hair from your face. Staring solemnly into his eyes, you don’t answer him, and he sighs. 

“I’ll run a hot bath, come here dear.” he says finally, and gently leads you across the darkened minimalistic catalog of a living room. White couches, with black accent pillows, a glass coffee table complete with a vase of seemingly fake flowers to light up the dead room, and a floor lamp in the corner. A large tv on a black metal and glass stand, a standard living room but soulless in the decor. The open floor plan leads to the bare kitchen off to the side, a bowl of fruit on the counter for display. 

You held up the hem of your soaking wet ratty slip dress in your hands, afraid to make a mess in his nice, clean, empty home. The fabric hung limp against you, stretched beyond form. You follow him dutifully, quietly as a mouse, to his luxurious bathroom. Wesker steps in and turns on the light, you stop at the door, just inside on the tile so you don’t ruin the nice hardwood flooring in his bedroom. You begin to shiver violently from the cold, trying your hardest not to chatter your teeth. He takes his socks off and tosses them into his hamper, turning back to guide you further into his spacious bathroom. 

He brings out fluffy towels, and sits at the edge of the large tub, turning on the faucets to full, adjusting the temperature for you. 

“Strip.” He commands and you do as he says. Letting the slip fall from your shoulders onto the floor, stepping out of it and picking it up, holding it in your hands unsure of what to do with it. 

Wesker lets the water run, adding in some of the bubbles you mentioned liking off-handed to him once, before turning back to you. He takes you in, the yellowing bruises on your body, the fresh welts, the ruined old ripped slip dress in your hands, despite him telling you he could buy you new clothes. You always declined, saying the slip dress was comfortable, and he never pushed it. He pulled you towards him gently, taking the slip and tossing it into the hamper for you. He sat on the tub, bringing you to stand in front of him naked as the day you were born, beautiful, despite the dirt smudged on your nose, and the yellowing bruises fading away on your arms and chest. The marks of others but, you were still beautiful.

He traced patterns on your cold skin, running his warm palms over your soft tummy, dragging them down your sides, you stood waiting for his commands as always, letting him touch you how he wanted. He brought you closer, squeezing your hips gently, hands roaming back to the meat of your ass, he kneaded gently before rubbing up your back.

He looked up into your eyes, filled with adoration and something else much darker. You smiled for him but looked away when you saw his eyes, he was an open book. 

“Step into the bath, Dearheart. Let me clean you.” he said as he let you go, turning back to turn off the hot water. Doing as he commanded, you stepped into the warm water gratefully, finally making a noise as you sigh in relief. He smiles at you gently, taking some of his nice smelling shampoo and gently washing your hair for you as you relax in the bath. 

He gently teases out the knots in your hair, massage the shampoo into your scalp, and rubbing the nape of your neck gently, coaxing out quiet moans from you. His large hands gently with your fragile form, he took the detachable shower head and rinsed your hair, repeating the process with the conditioner, quiet as he works. 

He checks the water, making sure it’s still warm for you before guiding you to lean forward as he takes a washcloth, gently cleaning you, taking his time with every inch of your body, his hands smoothing over the sensitive skin on your shoulders, rubbing down each of your arms gently. 

He gently kisses the tips of your fingers, before returning them to the water, sliding down to his knees, to continue washing your torso and legs, his hands teasingly squeezing your calves and massaging that sensitive spot just behind your knees that makes you arched in the tub, eyes closed in bliss. He worships your body thoroughly, cleaning every inch and massaging to relax you in the warm water. You don’t look at him, just staring at his hands as they work, watching them glide over your wet skin smoothly. 

The water is so warm, so pleasant, you could fall asleep, much different from the heavy downpour outside, he reached in further, dragging the washcloth against your folds, washing every part of you, making sure to flick your little nub teasingly, making you moan softly and buck slightly against his hand. 

“That’s a good girl..” he says quietly, “Ready to come out?” 

Nodding, you attempted to get out while Wesker turned to grab the fluffy bath towels he set out, scooping you in them and lifting you onto the counter. He dried you as sensually as he washed you, rubbing the second towel on your feet, patting up your legs dangling over the edge. He pulled you closer to the edge, and you opened your legs for him, a soft noise in your throat as you felt him kiss your inner thighs down to the junction of your hip. He spread your folds to take a look, studying your cunt like an art piece, leaning and placing a passionate kiss against your outer lips, sighing in content as he continued. He licked your little hole, tasting your juices as they leaked out of you, nuzzling his large straight nose into your clit. You flushed as you felt him press into you, sighing as he stuck his tongue in, wet and hot. 

He groaned into you, a deep vibrating moan that sent tingles up your spine, as he held your legs apart pulling you closer to him, practically holding you up as he ate you out like a man starved. He flattened his tongue, licking up to your clit and gently sucked, flicking the tip of his tongue over the nub as one of his hands forced you to lay back on his bathroom counter holding you flat as you tried to arch into him. Your mouth hung ajar as he continued unabashed. 

Completely at his mercy, you could only watch him as he did you, the first time in the night you met his stare head on. Your voice cracked as you moaned loudly, clenching around nothing as he sucked harder against your clit. A sharp pain caused you to scream loudly in euphoria as he nipped your poor little nub harshly, quickly soothing the pain into more pleasure with his tongue as you wriggled against his hand still pressing on your lower belly. You fell back against the counter, losing yourself in that continuous heightened pleasure, wanting so badly to rock against him. 

“Spread your legs wider like a good little slut.” he commanded as his other palm slides up your thigh to your core, pressing in a finger, groaning deeply when he feels you clench him hard.

“..Fuck..” He breathed against you, diving back quickly. He’s lapping at your clit desperately, humming his love for you against your core as he fingered you, reaching that spot that has you spasming against his hands. He adds another digit, stretching your little hole for him later.

“Go on, sing for me. That’s it, sweetheart.” He coaxes, his voice deeper, huskier, his icy blue eyes blown out with desire as he watched you lost in your pleasure, desperately moaning. Your voice goes an octave higher, a tell tale sign that you’re close, so close. You don’t need to say anything for him to know, he can feel it. He added another finger, and another stretching you wide, as he nipped your bud, arching his fingers up into that spot and forcing you to the very edge before he pulled away quickly. A strangled whine left your lips, as he pants onto your cunt.

He forced you to feel that intense pleasure, the kind that makes your legs quake and your toes curl, almost tipping over before he pulls away to leave you desperate in his absence. You’re ragged and ruined, chest heaving heavily, face flushed and sweating, as you look back into his eyes, a mischievous little glint in his loving eyes. He chuckled huskily, standing to his full height again, leaning over you as he kisses you roughly, the hand on your stomach sliding up to hold your neck, he squeezed lightly, 

“Not yet, darling, I’m not finished.” He brings up his hand soaked in your juices, to your mouth, 

“Open.” 

As he commanded, you opened your mouth, letting him slip his fingers in, he felt around scissoring and pinching your tongue lightly, felt your breath cool his fingers slightly.  

“Close.” Your mouth closes, your juices on your tongue, savory slightly sweet. He grinned, eyes watching your warm mouth obey him, he flicked his steel gaze up to your eyes, grinning wide, 

“Suck.” He felt you dutifully suckle on his fingers, felt your warm wet tongue lick up your own juices eagerly, and that feeling went straight down to his cock. 

He watches you, taking mental images of your fuck ruined face, the glossy eyes with the pupil so dilated, they’re dark with lust, the way you look up at him through your lashes. The way your mouth puckers around his fingers. He would compare how they look around his cock. The thought makes him twitch in his cargo pants. 

“Good fucking girl.” he breathed, rutting against your wet core, squeezing your neck more as he contemplates how to ruin you tonight. Your hands gently hold his arm, raking your nails over him gently.

There was no doubt in his mind, he wants you, he may have always wanted you, ever since his first night with you. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a pop, kissing you deeply, crushing your body with his, desperate to feel you in any way he can. His arms snake around you, lifting you up and against him as he carries you into the darkened bedroom, tossing you down on the bedroom, quickly removing his shirt and pants, eager to finally have you, he ripped off his boxers without much ceremony. He watched as you begin to turn over like how he usually likes it, 

“No, lay flat on your back, and hold yourself open to me, I want to see that wet pussy. ” he commanded and you obey, spreading your legs wide for him, hands opening your juicy folds to him, begging him with your eyes to fuck you good. 

“Good.. Good girl.. Do you want Daddy to fuck you?” He breathed as he pulled your body to the edge of the bed, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your folds. He bites back a moan, it has been too long since he felt your velvety warmth. It takes all of his strength not just to ram into you like he wants, fucking into you with mad desire. No, he wants you to beg him, he wants to feel desired like how he desires you.

His hands roam your body. Feeling your curves and kneading your breasts, settling on your neck and holding you down as he continued to rub the bulbous tip of his head against your twitching little hole, he licked his lips, swallowed the spit and looked into your pleading eyes. 

He pushes in, and almost immediately, you cry out, a needy little whine, the sound delicious in his ears. He makes a choked noise, gritting his teeth and trying to breathe through the intense but soft tightness. He concentrated on how soft you feel, how hot your pussy is around his cock. He can feel you pulse your walls and he almost loses it, he squeezed your throat and yours fly to his arm for support again.   

“Fuck Dearheart, you’re so tight still..” He hissed and closes his eyes, bottoming out and staying there, enjoying how you struggling against him, trying to fuck him. He struggled to keep control.

“Beg for it, my darling, beg me to fuck you.” He says, pulling out, shakily pumping in slowly and back out, he opened his eyes when you whine again, nails raking against his arm, 

“Alby, please. I need your cock, stop teasing me!” you say, trying to rut against him. He groans out, chuckling breathlessly, 

“Come now my dear, you can do better than that… Can’t you?” He teases, choking out another noise when you clench around him again. 

“Fuck Albert, please! I need you to ruin me! I only want you. No one else can compare anymore!” You cry, and that breaks him. He snapped his hips forward quickly, setting a brutal pace, watching your face morph from desperate need to pained pleasure, watches the way your breasts bounced when he fucks you. He loved hearing you babble your love for him, your praise of his cock, about how good you felt. 

“Albert! You stretch me out so good.~” 

God you were so beautiful. A beautiful goddess of the night he was desperate to have. He leaned up, releasing your throat to hold your legs open, raking his ravenous gaze down over your gorgeous body, finally settling on where his cock disappeared into your body, over and over. Again and again. 

He could feel you build back up, hear it in your voice. He needed it, he needed you to cum, 

“Cum you little slut, Cum for me.” he commanded through gritted teeth, he felt you tip over, the scream you released, the hard spasm of your cunt, almost sending him too. He dug his nails into your sensitive flesh, trying to ground himself desperately. 

He could feel every little flutter of your pussy walls, the way your body twitched as he powered through your orgasm, he threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading you out to see himself fuck that tight cunt of yours. 

Every noise you made, sent him to a higher plane of existence, his palm slid up to rest on your navel, pressing down. Loving that strangled cry you made as he did it, his ass clenching as he concentrated on your pleasure. He angled himself upwards, searching for that spot that had you screaming and saying his name as your prayer. When he did find it, he began to rub your clit, exactly how you liked it. Fast tight little circles, you vaulted again suddenly, arching into him, hands clenching his sheets.

“Albert! Fuck!” You arch yourself up more, chasing your high as he pounds into you, chasing his. 

“You dirty little slut! Who told you to cum again?” he barked, speeding up as he lost control. He loved that he made you do that, unable to control yourself with him. The boost to his ego alone made you worthy of all of his love.

He leaned over you, needing to feel you all over. He pistons into you, groaning against you clinging to him, scratching him up like a wild cat, 

“Fuck, dearest.. I’m-” He lost his breath as you latched onto his neck, biting hard on his jugular, 

The sudden sharp pain was the last straw, he pulled out, pulling away to quickly bringing your thighs together to fuck out his seed into. He shook as he came, spilling out over your thighs and stomach. He nearly roared from the intensity, shuddering hard, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

Wesker stayed like that, fucking your thighs lazily, the aftershocks almost too much for him. His eyes opened and as he looked down at you, this beautiful woman, his very own angel. He sighed content, watching your chest heaved, and tears leak out of your eyes, too lost in your own bliss, and he loved that he was the one who made you feel like that. He would save that mental image too. Engrave it into his soul. 

‘I love you.’ it was on the tip of his tongue, he almost said it. He wanted to, desperately. He collapsed next to you on the bed, watching you lick up his cum from your stomach like a whore, his cock twitch again. 

Fuck, you were perfect.

“Hold on, dearheart, let me get a rag.” 

You watched him get up, watched the way his firm ass jiggled when he walked, the way his back muscles rippled as he moved. He was indeed a beautiful man, a fallen angel. Turning to the window, you noticed the rain stopped, the sky still dark though. Waiting patiently for him to come back, and when he did with warm wet cloth, you let him clean you off. He whispered sweet nothing in your ear, telling you about how perfect you were.

He did like taking care of you, you noted numbly. He tossed the washcloth at the bathroom door, crawling into bed with you. He curled into you, obviously tired, holding you against him as he fell asleep. You were tired too, wanting desperately to fall asleep in his strong arms and have it be okay. 

A quick glance to his alarm clock says it was 3am, it was almost time for you to go. 

“Don’t leave this time.” he mumbles into your hair, pulling you harder against him. 

“Okay. Good night, Alby. “ 

“Good night, my goddess.” He slurred, exhausted after a long day. 

Like always, you waited for him to fall asleep, grateful he was a heavy sleeper. You never charged him extra for the aftersex cuddles. Taking the money from his wallet, you cleaned a bit for him, mostly just placing towels in the hamper, draining the dirty bath water and wiping it out. You searched for your slip, quietly slipping out Albert’s bedroom. Your dress was still damp but you put on anyway, creeping to his front door to find your uncomfortable heels. Slipping those on, you paused before opening the door, sad to leave yet again. 

With a soft sigh, you open the door, slipping out into the cold damp night again. 

[canyonkingdom]

the seven seas of rhye

Fear me you loathsome, lazy creatures

Broomskingdom is located in between two rich mountains, surrounded by rich land perfect for agriculture. Away from the mountains were seven seas, only seen by the view of the queen's castle. The peasants racked their backs in the fields, their arms sore for picking the wheat.

"I hate this job." one grumpy peasant grumbled.

"It's not like you have a choice, Cap." another one lectured.

I descend upon your earth from the skies

While the poor straddled the economy of the kingdom, the rich stood up high.

Queen Jin lived in a larges castle that ascended high than a man on his second trip. Gold accents tattered the beige walls elegantly. Her smile could make millions fawn.

Her orange gown flowed when she walked, blonde hair blowing through the air. Her beauty shined with a single touch of the corner of her lips. When she reveals herself to the kingdom, they all cheered. A peep of her voice can cause stampedes.

I command your very souls you unbelievers

"Helly," the queen called out to her most trusted adviser.

"Yes, your Majesty?" Helly hastily made his way to the room, where his eyes were planted on the queen, sitting on her throne glittering in jewels.

"I want you to go on a journey."

Bring before me what is mine

She looked over the window. "There."

The seven seas of Rhye

-//-

Helly missed the old town in the kingdom. Where he grew up, where he learned, where he stayed. If he hadn't been appointed personally to the queen, he would be in the fields.

And he missed his old friend.

"Rhye? She must be out of the gutter!" Bruner slurred as he took another downing on his booze.

"I know, right? But I am the queen's advisor for a reason. She trusts me with everything." Helly said, sipping his cup of booze. "We do have a... shady history with Rhye."

"Like the seven seas thing?"

"Yeah." Helly answered.

"It was like a full blown war over some seas and we lost it, right?" Bruner asked, looking for clarification.

"Yeah... our queen's father fought that war and he was panned on so badly-"

"He jumped off the roof of the castle."

Helly paused. "Yeah."

Bruner grabbed the bottle and chugged more booze in his cup. "That's brutal, man. I can't imagine having to deal with my kingdom against me-"

"That's history, Bruner." Helly said.

"Well, you're still going on that journey, right?"

"...Yes. It's mandatory."

Bruner's eyes sunk.

"Safe journeys then."

He was on the brink of tears. Maybe he was just drunk or truly wallowing in sadness.

"I promise i'll be back alive."

-//-

"I want revenge, Helly."

The queen rasped, his hands wringing her staff tightly.

Helly's eyes watered to his cowardice. "That feud was years ago, your Majesty. It seems pointless to continue this-"

"I don't care." she replied coldly.

"... I can't do this alone."

The queen faced her advisor, looking at the ground as he stood parallel to her throne way above. Her eyes were soulless and devoid.

"Then have someone go with you."

Helly's eyes lit up. "Who?"

"I realized you are too scrawny to go in this conquest." the queen said. "So i'm tasking some people to protect you on the journey."

Helly smiled.

"Come back tomorrow morning and i'll show them to you."

-//-

Tomorrow morning came and Helly was presented with three individuals who were way taller and stronger than his small frame. He felt terrified by their presence.

"This is Poli." the queen pointed her hand to the person wearing a shiny tinted blue suit. Poli smiled at Helly, which seemed to terrify him more. "He's alert and strong. He can protect you in dangerous situations."

"O- okay..."

The queen walked up to another man in a red suit. He looked significantly more chiseled than Poli and he was towering over him. "This is Roy. He is the brawn. He will crush anything that physically halts your journey." He looked more soft and kind than Poli.

"And lastly, this is Amber." Helly was relieved that there was a girl, not only because they looked less terrifying, but the way she held a straw briefcase in her hand. "She's an amazing healer. She can heal all your wounds in a matter of minutes. Her briefcase contains all he medicine and chemicals she uses."

Helly wondered how the queen got them to be here, or where they came from in the first place, but he forgot about it when the queen stepped down and walked up to the door. She turned around and looked at them, smiling.

"One o'clock you should all be here."

She grabbed the door handle.

"And one more thing,"

Helly's ears perked up.

"Serve revenge."

Helly's small smile didn't waver. "Yes, your Majesty." the newfound team said in unison. In a few hours they would be gone.

-//-

i love making copious amounts of aus

amirite

[ace-of-trppls]

「𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 -.2: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍」 Twst x Dark Deception Au

After escaping the 2nd realm you find yourself once again in Crowley’s chamber.

Once Crowley has congratulated you on surviving the second realm once again, an odd voice begins talking to the both of you

Whom introduces himself as “Malleus” he’s an ally who turns out to be Crowley’s sworn enemy to you at least and the very reason he needs to repair the mirror

“I’m sorry

Good luck”

Green flame, cold floor, empty windows All of which are characteristics of Crowley’s realm or what he likes to call it “The Mirror chamber” It was big built similar to a ballroom on side had multiple mirrors containing all the portals to the realms, the other there was a large French door it seemed to be sealed shut in the center of the door there was a an odd circle that looked similar to a closed eye

This was the place where I awoke after an accident it wasn’t that led to my demise, a distant memory and a foggy mind was AlI had when I had woken up that was a lie but now? Something’s wrong you can’t remember, the wolf? Ace? Deuce? All an odd blur

“Ah! You’ve done it again Yuu!”

“C-Crowley!”

And you saw the familiar crow man “Dire Crowley” a mysterious man whom promised to help you he’s using you

You’ll get your life back you don’t remember do you? Everything will be fine if you follow his command and get the mirror pieces

Ah Yes, everything will be fine just follow Crowley no doubt, none at all

“Oh my, is something wrong dear?”

“Nothing” No, you were so close!

“I…see”

Crowley looked as if he was eyeing you, watching each movement, each breath, each injury he was watching everything like a hawk yellow soulless eyes, a chilling gaze All too familiar is it?

“Oi! Birdman!”

Ah, grim was here right, is he alright? He looks good despite the previous fight he seems unchanged it’s just like him

“Oh my? Grim-y boy what’s wrong?”

“That wolf.. those to guys, Something’s missing! You did something did you!”

“Ah…oh my something odd with grim did the realms mess up something in your head?”

Crowley grabbed grim, DON’T LET HIM

grim seems to be struggling a lot HE’LL DO IT AGAIN

Someone’s yelling something. He’ll do what?

—

Fire everywhere

but it wasn’t grim his fire is blue this is green

my eyes hurt my head hurts my limbs feel numb Everything hurts Someone he’s here

Help he’ll help

He…? Yes

“Crowley”

The large French door I had mentioned earlier changed, the middle now had an odd center one that looked like a beautiful emerald Iris with a slit pupil similar to a cat It’s moving it…he? Glared at Crowley He called for Crowley right? Crowley looks worried his breath turned rigged he was still holding grim by the collar, but grim as well seemed scared

Am I missing something? Yes

“How many times must you fail in order to realize you won’t win?”

“Malleus…”

“Yes that is my name”

Malleus? Who?

“Child of man”

what an odd nick name, I wonder who that is it’s you

“I’m talking to you”

“Me…?”

“Indeed”

“ah”

“do not trust Crowley”

Huh…?

“You will regret it”

“Malleus! What are you doing here!?”

“Oh my now your talking you dammed bird, but then again, they always have been your trump card haven’t they?”

“You…! Don’t you dare plant ideas into my precious helper!”

“Ah yes your "precious helper" I wonder how truly precious they are if they suffered like this for how many times now?'

"Malleus"

Crowley's tone was weary like daring him to speak yet under that facade he was scared wasn't he? Malleus... I've heard that name before you've heard it a million times Where? You know where

"Child of man...may you choose the right ending"

What does he mean? But before I can say anything Crowley had muttered words under his breath like a spell and the eye of the door shut abruptly. Crowley had put grim down sighing, on the other hand grim stared almost as if he remembered something he wanted to share yet, wasn't't allowed to say

"my precious helper, we must collect the mirror prices as soon as possible there is no time to waste"

His voice sounded cold and demanding, as if he made a threat rather than a command. He grabbed my hand not caring that I had just nearly died and eaten. He gave me one last glare before aggressively throwing me into the next realm

"you better not fail me again"

[predvestnik]

@ccaptain asked from here:

⏳️ hehe

The stench of rot and decay clings to the memory of a figure smaller than its hostile. It wanders the snowy plains like a phantom whose limbs leave a trail of red in its wake and gaze glows a soulless blue. When it moves, calculated and perpetually on the prowl, its aura is distinctly dense, desperate, as it leaves behind an afterimage that fades in and out of view as if not meant to exist in the arcane veins stretching beneath the soil of the northern borders.

Its power is unknown, even for the frame of a boy no older than fourteen. It grips a rusty sword with the might of a newborn warrior and a beast in search of vengeance both — how it holds the blade in the direction of the adult who's trespassed its broad space is dissonant to the pubescent pitch of its voice, crackling characteristically at the edges of its words upon issuing a simple warning. ❛ Halt, ❜ it commands fearlessly but with a cautionary flair. Its skin is undisturbed by the gelid breeze lapping at both of them, its body eerily sustaining the oppressing weather despite the tattered clothes wrapping around its form.

Dry blood and viscera stain the space under its nails, the pommel of its sword and the tips of its hair, already sunset-colored and much softer than the sharpness of its glower. It has seen and vanquished demons whose spirits faintly resembled the one brought to his presence by the outlander. ❛ Did you, too, come from the depths? I can sense it, you are not from here. ❜ It doesn't flinch nor waver, each Snezhnayan word leaping from its tongue to quench its curiosity, as well as its thirst for a fight. ❛ Leave, now. ❜

[palidan-sheep]

This is a mess but that’s on par for me tbh. Highly suggest you go watch Emperor Kumquats video before reading my ramblings.

This video was something I put on just to have background noise and to learn a little about a character I knew little about. If only I forsaw the spiral I was about to go down lmao.

Since 5th grade to a few years outta Highschool, I’ve always thought I always thought that TFPrime Ultra Magnus just had solid blue eyes. Like, just a rectangle of blue, no severo or optic or whatever it’s called in there, just blue.

It wasn’t until I was listening to Emperor Kumquat talk about Ultra Magnus and I paused on a close up of his face that I realized that he, in fact, has eyes. Or atleast, the outlines of circles in the blue rectangles that is meant to represent eyes.

And just like that, he had more expression then I ever remembered him having. He’s no longer that stoic, commanding hardass I once thought he was.

Yes, the video was great insight into his character(and got me thinking lol.) and cleared up some misconceptions I had about him but sometimes that isn’t enough for me. You can talk the talk but unless I see that talk do the walk, I’ll be a little hard pressed to believe you.

Now he’s no longer just standing there or talking, without direction. He’s looking at those he speaks too, he’s looking at his surroundings, his eyes show pain and various other emotions that he might not be saying vocally out loud.

But god damn, is it hard to see his eyes. The right side is his eyes outlined a little bit more heavily, the left is the original.

In my honest opinion, this is feels intentional.

By blurring the lines of his optics and making it difficult to get a sense of where he’s looking, he just feels soulless/sparkless.

In the last row of pictures, you can’t really tell he’s acknowledging Arcee and Bulk. He appears to just be blankly staring out in-front of him, paying little mind to those behind him.

But he is, it’s just incredibly difficult to see that. And if you have horrible quality when watching the show or have bad eyes(like myself when I was younger) it’s even harder to see his eyes thus it’s even harder to see him as someone other then a stoic, commanding hardass.

I’m glad I finally noticed his eyes, it’ll be a lot more fun to watch him mill about Team Prime now that he feels like a genuine character and not someone I should disregard because he disapproves of the Wreckers Way.

~

Yes, I know Wheeljack(Bulkhead too I think) posse similar eyes but his(Wheeljack) are vastly more pronounced as compared to Magnus.

Not to mention, Wheeljack eyebrows are vastly more apparent than Ultra Magnus. It’s easier to show Wheeljacks emotions when the outlines of his eyes are hidden because his brows help to portray and further his emotions

Ultra Magnus looks like he has no brows, he does but they appear to be glued to his helm/head, and Wheeljacks brows feel almost as predominant as Ratchet brows.

[therxtking]

Sulfur's Quiet...

Sulfur... He'd stayed. He was out of place, a monster among them. But... He was still a Retchen. Not very deep down. While he certainly wasn't who he'd been before, he wasn't an omega, he'd felt the call, the shift, the command, from miles and miles away. To come and fight. And fight he did. He'd taken too long to get there but he made it for the final stand. He'd since groomed the blood from himself, with Gordon's help, no less... Sulfur had betrayed him. He'd become a monster. But they still had a deeper bond. Gordon to care for his people and Sulfur to be cared for by his kin and to serve his king. He'd been alone so long. It wasn't natural for a rat, or nearly anyone. To be isolated for extended periods, even bloodthirsters stayed in packs relatively. He could quietly admit to himself he needed to companionship. To belong somewhere for just a moment...

So he lays beside his king. The friend he'd betrayed and taken for granted... He'd done a lot of thinking all alone and lonely, and still wasn't ready to accept some things. But he wanted to stay here by their side. Useful. Powerful. Welcome... So Sulfur stayed. Laying in silence, several feet between them. Longing so pitifully and deeply to curl up beside another warm body, a sentient one, but he could not. And it wasn't because of his fire, his wings, his horns, or even the brand on his flank... No. He'd sealed his solitude long before that.

He can feel Gordon's grief. His fear. And it doesn't excite him the way it would any other red daemon. It infects him. It becomes his own. But there was a closeness to it that Sulfur clung to for dear life. Maybe that's why he hardly looked like any other blood daemon. He wasn't one. Not yet anyway... He'd callous his heart and travel far and wide for conquest, he'd be nothing but power and rage. But not yet. He wasn't ready to let go like he thought he was, like he thought he had before... Before coming here. He just wanted to hold onto this moment, this silver blue beautiful bastard beside him, be held back, and never let go. Wake up in a soft bed deep underground and never surface... But he couldn't. He was a daemon of Khorne now. That's what he had to be... But burning soulless green eyes catch that moonlit figure. Those pools of stars threatening to tear up... Not yet... Not yet... Just a little longer. He'd be a retchen. He'd belong here. For just a little longer.

[too-destiny-panda]

Wyllvember Day 1: The Blade/ Favourite outfit

A/N: I have not posted my writing on here for literal years, and I overall don't write much anymore (mainly because of fear of writing OOC and my many inconsistencies), but I figured I might try my hand at this. Forgive me for the ugly formatting, I'm writing this on mobile and overall have no clue how to make it look pretty😅. Anyways, let's get this Wyll Ravengard appreciation started! The prompts are from @commander-yinello and @sagscrib -Blue WC:603

The Blade of Frontiers, the protector of the Sword Coast, and its people. The name is known to many. Some whisper it in reverence, shout it in adoration, or mutter it through gritted teeth in loathing. The name carries a weight, a meaning, a notion that one is either going to be saved and protected or crushed under the heel of justice. It inspired an image in one’s mind, whether they have ever seen the Blade in person or not. A picture of justice and righteousness, of gaudiness and pompous heroics. Some imaginings are closer, some further, from the truth. Be that as it may, all of them are right, at least to some extent.

The Blade is a hero, who accompanies his actions with flowery words, creative insults, and some slightly more puzzling phrases. He is a man of many qualities, and though not all are fond of his tendency for theatrics, they must admit he is good. Whether it be his combat prowess or as a person, he is good. Which some may believe to be a weakness, a soft spot to be exploited and bruised. Those people are proven wrong very quickly.

Despite his kindness, his willingness to help those that need it, he is righteous. And there are few things more destructive than righteous fury, accompanied by powers few possess. His white, stone eye blazing as he cracks mountains, calls onto fiendish abilities to burn his enemies from inside out, blast their torsos to smithereens with a few Eldritch Blasts, or poison a small army of soulless wrongdoers with deadly clouds. For no matter how soft his heart is, how embellished and poetic his words are, his fists turn into adamantine when faced with his foes, his tongue turns into a blade sharp enough to put all blacksmiths to shame as incantation after incantation reverberates through the air until not a single enemy is left standing.

And when he returns from battle, when he swoops in to save the poor victims of the monsters he has slain, some remark how the outfit he dons is splattered with blood and soot and ash and unidentifiable organic matter. A view many would find disquieting, terrifying. But the people will only remember his kind gaze, his ebony hair and warm skin as he extends his hand to them, remember the way light reflects off the belts and buckles of his armour, how the hue of the leather contrasts with the unblemished metal.

And later on, when a feast is thrown, when the tavern is filled to bursting with folks celebrating the return of their loved ones and the defeat of the dangers that plagued them, many an eye will watch with keen interest the man responsible for such joy, watch as he laughs, how the fabric of his Splendid Blue outfit tightens around his arms whenever he raises them to toast. Others, in a different region will recall how the simplicity of his Swarthy Wayfarer shirt made them dream of his collarbones like depraved maidens. Some more noble sorts will remark that a particular shade of a Solemnity outfit made him look delectable. If everyone that has ever seen the Blade in a different outfit other than his armour were to meet and a debate on what suits him best would occur, this author is afraid that a brawl might break out on account of the Blade's handsome looks and what best accentuates them.

And as much as this humble writer disagrees with violence over romantic matters, one must admit that such behaviour is not so surprising when faced with someone such as the Blade of Frontiers.