#or is it chuck taking over the vessel

[impala-in-gotham]

Me watching the Winchesters finale:

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Post-canon post-reunion post-reuinion-sex. Dean takes Cas out in the Impala for a drive for the first time since he got back a year after he was taken. Before Dean starts the engine he hesitates and gets a little shy and defensively says "don't laugh at me, okay? I need them." and he pulls a pair of plastic framed glasses out of his jacket front pocket and puts them on.

Cas does not stop staring at him, which Dean can only handle up to the first stop light. There's an heated blush on his face when he barks:

"Quit the surveillance Big Brother. Something wrong with my face?"

"You've aged."

"Jesus."

"It's a compliment. Your resourcefulness and resilience have allowed you to live past the time you were intended to by fate."

"You need to go back to charm school, Thermopolis. 'You've aged' is never a friggin compliment."

"It is. You've aged, and you're taking care of yourself."

There's a touch, light, to the side of Dean's face, tracing gently up under the gap of his glasses to caress his crows feet.

"Cas!" Dean complains, "I'm driving!" But he doesn't push his hand away.

"You're growing," Cas continues, sliding a long finger over Dean's eyebag, "You've lived." He taps the leg of Dean's glasses as he withdraws, adding, "You have defied God."

Dean tries very hard to follow the logic, feeling his face screw up as he does, but he's got nothing. "Huh?"

"Chuck's design for humans was faulty, amateur. There was much he did not account for. In creating the means to live, and live well, with the body you have been given, humanity has proven its superiority to God himself."

Dean scoffs, feeling a little shy again, "It's just glasses, Cas."

"The product of thousands of years of innovation. The work of thousands of people across millenia." Cas pauses for a moment, then asks, a touch breathless, "Can I tell you what I like to imagine?"

"Uh, sure?"

"I like to imagine, when I think of the work of other humans across all of time, that they were doing it all in service of you."

Considering this, Dean lets a Jeep turn onto the road in front of him. "Is it like a sex thing?"

"It's not a sex thing. It is the placement of my desire for you over the will of thousands. My love supercedes their true intentions, their ambitions, their circumstances. I am reappropriating their care to act as a vessel for the depth of my feelings for you."

"Hm. Sounds like a sex thing."

"It is not a sex thing."

"Okay, tell me this, then," Dean says, turning to face Cas at the next red light, "Do you or do you not want me to wear the glasses next time I suck you off?"

"...yes, I do want that."

"I rest my case. And hey - just a tip, from one flirt to another. Next time you want to bring up your hot librarian fantasy, or whatever, don't start by calling the other person old."

"It's not a librarian fantasy, it's a you fantasy."

"Yeah, yeah. Not like I haven't got you-fantasies of my own. How about this: I'll wear just the glasses if you wear just the trench coat."

"I think I could be persuaded," Cas says, and he's smiling, and Dean's smiling, and when he catches a glimpse of his own smile-lines in the rear-view mirror magnified through his glasses, he thinks maybe he gets it. They made it. They're alive. There's proof of it.

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 7-Aphrodisiac-Chrollo/Reader

notes: Chrollo is hard to write. Sry if this is ooc lol

title is from 'Stop' by Sam Brown

...

You're in the middle of curling your hair, when your phone rings. You curse, dropping the strand of hair you were preparing to curl, carefully placing the curling iron on the stone beneath your feet, and grab your phone. 

“Hisoka, where the actual fuck are you? We’ve gotta go soon!” You say angrily, your voice echoing against the stone of the stupid church the troupe had decided to hide out in. You're wearing pajama pants and a large oversized t-shirt, bending awkwardly in front of a small mirror you have propped up against the wall, frantically pinning your hair into rollers. You and Hisoka are supposed to leave for the mission in about ten minutes, and the damn clown is nowhere to be seen. Most of the other people have left for their missions already, leaving just you, Chrollo, and Machi in the large caverness room. 

Hisoka chuckles. “I'm sorry dear, but I'm afraid I'll have to leave you on your own!” He says. You almost dropped your phone.

“You’ve got to be joking,” You say, deadpan in your delivery. Maybe this is one of his stupid jokes. You tilt your phone, propping it up against your ear and picking up your curling iron again. Might as well finish setting your hair while Hisoka goes on.

“I'm not,” Hisoka says, sounding much too pleased for your liking. “As much as I would love to accompany you, I got caught up in something.”

A beat of silence fills the speakers, as you absorb what he had just told you. Then, the anger starts the flow. 

“You got caught up in something?” You hiss, annoyance clear in your voice. Machi looks up from her own mission preparations. Of course she got the easy one, while you were stuck at a stuffy high class event, with Hisoka to entertain. You pin your roller into place, moving onto the next strand of hair, yelling as you go.

You hear Chrollo shut his book with a snap. 

“You can't just, like, abandon me!” You yell into the speaker. “I literally can't do this mission by myself, you know that!”

“I'm afraid it's out of my hands,” Hisoka says. You can hear his smile through the phone, and you almost pop a blood vessel. “I wish you luck!”

“Hey, you can't just—” Hisoka disconnects with a beep. You stair at your phone in shock for a moment, and then raise your arm to chuck it across the room in frustration.

“Fucking damnit!” You shriek, then hiss as you burn your finger on your curler. Machi chuckles in sympathy.

“Hisoka?” She asks, shooting a wry smile in your direction. You nod.

“The fucker says he cant come,” You groan, pinning your last hot curl into a roller, away from your tender neck and put away your curling iron. “He says he's caught up in something or whatever.”

Machi stiffles a giggle, and you shoot her a look of betrayal. 

“Maaaachi,” You whine, sinking against the rock floor with a groan, your hair still in rollers. No sense to take them out, after it took you so long. “What am I supposed to do?”

“You could go by yourself,” She says.

“I caaaant, I'm a noncombatant,” You whine, “And besides their expecting husband and wife, they'd totally suspect me if I showed up alone.”

“You could say your ‘husband’ flaked on you.” Machi says, “it isn't technically a lie.”

“If Hisoka was my husband I just might throw myself off a cliff,” You groan, rolling over onto your stomach, careful not to jog your rollers. 

“He's hot though,” Machi says, gathering up her things.

“True,” You say, “that's literally the only thing he has going for him.”

Machi hums contentedly, as you stew in annoyance on the cold ground, rolling carefully back and forth, keeping your neck at an awkward angle so you don't jog the rollers in your hair. 

“So what's the plan, Boss?” Machi asks, packing her supplies in her go back. You frown, and then swiftly remember that Chrollo is here as well. You tend to forget, he doesn't talk that much. 

Chrollo gently sets the book he was reading next to him, stacking it neatly on top of the other books that sit beside him. 

“I guess it can't be helped,” He says, standing up from his position on the big boss rock, and jumping down to the ground floor where the mortals sit. “I'll take his place.”

You stare at him in surprise.

“Really?” You ask, genuinely a bit confused. You didn't really know Chrollo all that well, even though he was technically your boss. He didn't really interact with you much, and he never went on missions. 

“Yes, if I must.” Chrollo says, standing a few feet away from you as you start mindlessly on your makeup. 

“Oh,” You say, a bit thrown off and confused. Machi chuckles

“You sound so surprised and confused,” She says, hoisting her bag over her shoulder and shooting you a small smile. “Chrollo does do missions occasionally.”

“Not with me,” You mutter, then cover it up with a nervous giggle. “I mean I'm just not used to doing missions with anyone but you, Machi. And Hisoka.”

“My condolences,” Machi grins, slipping her sandals onto her feet. “You work so hard for us, Name.”

“I know,” You whine, carefully contouring your nose. Chrollo coughs, and you jostle in surprise. 

“Oh! I forgot you were still here.” You laugh, whipping away the excess contour you had accidentally smudged, and shooting a smile over your shoulder. Chrollo makes an odd face, tilting his head slightly.

“You forgot I was here?” He asks, sounding a bit offended. You shrug.

“You don't really talk that much,” You chuckle, highlighting your nose. “Do you have a suite?”

“I can find one,” he says, still standing a bit back from you. You try not to be too conscious of his eyes on you as you finish your makeup, spraying it generously with setting spray. This shit better not budge all night, or you're officially losing it.

Machi giggles, tossing you a wink as she heads towards the door. “Good luck, name.” She says, and you wave in her direction as she steps out of the shelter and into the rain. Thunder booms and lightning cuts through the sky, and when it recedes you can't make out her figure anymore. You sigh. Tonight is going to be awkward. 

♱♱♱

The taxi ride is dead silent. You sit in the back, Chrollo sitting a foot away, a book sitting open on his crossed legs. You stare out the window, hair pillowing softly over your shoulders, dress pooling over your crossed legs. The Taxi driver is unbothered, airpods sitting firm in his ears as he drives on, not a care in the world that the people he's driving are sitting in awkward silence in the back of his car. You heave a deep sigh, and catch yourself wishing Hisoka were here instead. At least he never shut up. 

Hurriedly, you kick yourself, and try to make conversation.

“What are you reading?” You ask, desperately trying to fill the awkward silence. Chrollo looks up, closing his book with a snap.

“Simply cataloging my abilities,” he says, slipping the book into his pocket. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing interesting,”

“I thought you read actual books,” You say, one of your heels scraping your ankle as you cross your legs. “Is that all you read?”

Chrolllo coughs, muffling what you think might be a laugh. 

“No, my dear.” He says, turning to look at you fully. “Are you feeling prepared for the mission?”

“I guess,” You sigh, restlessly uncrossing your legs again. “We practiced and stuff, but…”

“You practiced?” Chrollo asks curiously, and you turn to face him fully. He has his hair down for once, and a piece of fabric covering his forehead marking. You catch yourself thinking he looks handsome. He should wear his hair down more often.

“Yeah, Hisoka and I,” You say, “We mostly just memorized our characters' names and stuff like that.”

Chrollo nods. 

“I see,” He says, reaching into his coat jacket for the wedding invitation. “You didn't practice being newlyweds?”

You laugh, tilting your head back and pulling your freshly curled hair over your shoulders so it doesn't get smushed. 

“We didn't really need to,” You say, watching the driver's screen through the plastic window separating the driver from the back seats. His map says you’ll arrive at your destination in fifteen minutes. “We’ve done a lot of missions together, and besides, Hisoka can be pretty charming when he wants to be.”

“Ah, I see.” Chrollo says, flipping the invitation open and reading it carefully. “So we are Mr and Ms Benton, then?”

You nod, recalling the information along with him in your mind.

“We’ve been married for two weeks, and we're so in love everyone is annoyed and disgusted with us.” You say, watching the blue dot that symbolizes the car your riding in move closer and closer to your destination. 

“Right, and our mission?”

“Get in, steal the necklace and get out without causing a fuss.” You reply, sighing. “It's this a lot of hassle for one necklace?”

Chrollo chuckles, slipping the invitation back into his suit jacket with a small smile.

“Maybe,” He says, “But we all have our part to play.”

♱♱♱

The part is a boring one. You nod, smiling through your teeth as this man talks on and on, throwing in the occasional ‘Uh Huh’ to be safe. Chrollo, hand wrapped around your waist, smiles widely, his eyes glazed over. 

You shift closer to him, leaning over to whisper through your teeth.

“Can we go now?” You ask, ignoring the butterflies that flutter in your stomach as he squeezes your waist comfortingly. 

“We haven't done what we’ve come here for yet,” He whispers back quietly, barely moving his lips. 

You roll your eyes, and tune back into the conversation. One man has cornered the two of you in the corner and is talking at you about his money and how many cars he has and how his last wife was a model and blah blah blah. You aren't paying attention at all. 

“And i have just added a new Bugatti to my collection,” The man says, pausing like you should clap or something.

“Oh cool,” You say, deadpan. The man chuckles, seeming to not at all get the sarcasm in your tone. 

“If you want to see them, pretty lady, you can come over to my place after—”

“You have some impressive cars,” Chrollo says, squeezing your waist twice. The signal. You take a swig of your champain, then set it gently on the table beside you. You want to come back to that. 

“Oh hubby, I think I'm feeling a bit faint!” You whine dramatically, bring a hand up to your forehead, closing your eyes and tilting your head dramatically. Chrollo gasps, abruptly sweeping you off your feet and into his arms.

“If you’ll excuse us, I'll be taking my wife to lie down for a bit,” Chrollo says to the man in front of you guys. Your eyes still closed, you peek out of the corner of one eye to find the man eyeing you with disappointment. Quickly, you close your eyes again.

“Hurry Baby,” You whimper dramatically. “I feel faint!”

Chrollo's hands tighten against your body and you feel his chest vibrate against your side. He must be laughing. But he speeds away at your instruction, moving towards the powder room, which just happens to be in a long hallway off the main room the party was situated in. the perfect place for the two of you to disappear to for about two minutes. Just enough time to get your hands on the necklace. 

“How did it go?” Chrollo asks as you return to his guard position, situated a few feet away from the door of the women's bathroom. You grin, flashing him a thumbs up.

“A brief scrap with a security guard, but i hide in a closet,” You say, taking off your plastic gloves and dumping them into your small clutch purse. It was almost laughably how easy stealing the necklace had been. After Chrollo had let you down from his arms all you did was walk the ten feet to the storage room and hide from the lone security guard in the nearby closet. Then you just swiped the necklace and placed it in the plastic bag you had prepared, and dropped it out the window. Now all that was left was to go around the house and retrieve it. 

“Now we just need to get out of here,” You say, wiping the sweat off your hands and onto your dress. “You think we can escape without car guy yelling at us again?”

Chrollo chuckles. “Not likely, I'm afraid.” He says, grabbing your waist as the two of you walk back towards the brightly lit entrance room. 

“Oh well,” You sigh, “I wanted to finish my champain anyway.”

Sure enough, it takes you all of five minutes for the car guy to find the two of you again, walking with you as you beeline for your champain. You're going to need all of it to survive even five minutes of this guy talking.

“...and just yesterday, I added to my new Rolex collection…”

“Oh really.” You say, downing your champain. It tastes a little weird. Maybe it's gone a little flat in the short amount of time you were gone. You place the empty cup down on the table beside with a clank. The man looks at it, his brown eyes sliding to you in a way that makes your skin crawl, and you shiver. Chrollo squeezes your waist gently, hand sending butterflies frolicking around your stomach. 

A beat of silence passes. Then the man speaks.

“Do you feel alright, miss?”

You raise and eyebrow, tilting your head to the side. 

“I'm fine?” you question, and then after a beat an escape plan starts to form. “You know what, I'm tired. Can we go home now baby?”

Chrollo springs into action, gripping your waist and spinning you towards the exit with a grin. 

“Of course dear, whatever you want.” He says, voice fakely sweet as the two of you march towards the exit at a brisk pace. You wind through the small circles of people, about seven to five people in each round, talking of this and that. They spare the two of you a passing glance before returning to their conversations. You catch snippets of them as you wind by, nothing of any interest or note. You feel a bit hot, longing for the cold air of the night. You can't wait to go home and take a shower. 

Finally, the two of you escape into the night, the cold air enveloping you. You still feel a bit hot. Chrollo leans in, whispering in your air as the two of you stop a few feet away from the front doors of the manor. 

“I'll get the necklace.” he whispers, pulling away from you with a brief kiss to your forehead. Then louder he continues, “Stay right here baby, I'll be right back.”

You nod, hand tracing the spot he had kissed as you watch him disappear into the night. Your skin tingles where his lips had touched it, and your heart pounds a bit fast in your chest. You still feel hot, even though you’ve escaped into the cold air. You sit down on a small bench, feeling a bit out of breath, and stair at the manor you had just exited. It's really a lovely building, the gothic architecture hiding in the shadows of the night. Light pours out from most of the windows of the multi story building, casting panes of yellow light onto the cobblestone driveway. The manor is on the main road, but set back to give the illusion of exclusivity. You yawn, sinking back against the small bench.

“There you are, pretty lady.”

You jump, opening your eyes abruptly. The car guy from earlier is standing over you, his legs only a few inches from your crossed legs. You glare up at him, much too tired to deal with his nonsense. 

“Can I help you?” You ask, your annoyance leaking out in your tone. Where the hell is Chrollo?

The man scoffs. 

“Why so rude, girly,” He simpers, “you should be loosening up to me soon.”

“You're bothering me,” You mutter, rolling your eyes. You feel a bit weak for some reason, muscles refusing to cooperate as you force yourself to stand. You totter a bit and the man catches you. His hands feel unpleasant, and you recoil quickly. 

The man considers, tilting his head to the side in confusion. 

“It should be kicking in about now,” He mutters to himself, hand on his chin as he eyes you up and down. His eyes feel slimy, goosebumps run against your skin as he grips your biceps, holding your arms against your side. “No matter, I'll just have to start early.”

He licks his lips, and your skin runs cold as what he intends to do to you becomes clear. You struggle, but feel strangely sluggish. Your body feels like jelly, hot and cold at the same time, and your limbs feel weak. The man laughs unpleasantly, grinning down at you, his eyes focused on your boobs.

“Not so tough now, aren't you?” He simpers. 

You try to struggle, trying desperately to pull your arms from his grip, to twist away, to escape. But you can't. You should be able to, this man is not more physically fit than you, but for some reason your body feels so weak. You bite back a whimper of fear, desperate not to show any emotion. It's been a while since you were afraid. 

“Your husband left you all alone, did he? Don't worry, i'll take good care of yo—”

He stills, his body going straight and tight. And then his eyes roll back and you watch him topple sideways, his hands leaving your arms as he crumples to the ground. You bite back a sob of relief as Chrollo grins at you, patting his hands of any free dust. 

“I've got the necklace, so let's head out.” He says, and then as he takes you in, trembling slightly like a leaf in the wind he continues, “are you alright?”

You shake yourself, forcing a grin as you fight through the liquid in your brain and the jelly in your limbs. You shoot him a smile.

“Just lovely!” you say, trying to convince yourself as you force your legs to move, propelling yourself towards the gate. “Let's head home.”

You assume Chrollo is following you, but you can't be sure. You can barely focus on anything, only propelling your legs forward, and ignoring the searing heat that is boiling in your blood, under your skin, in your gut. You feel like you're going to dissolve, melt into a puddle onto the ground. You can smell Chrollo behind you, a mix of citrus cologne and sweat, and a heavy musk that you can't place. You bite back a whimper, suppressing the urge to move closer to that scent, to curl into his body. You stumble a bit, quickly regaining your balance as you move out of the gate and back onto the street. Chrollo catches up, shooting you glances as he walks beside you.

“You sure you're alright, name?” he asks. The streets are empty at this time of night, but light streams down around you, from windows overhead to the pools of light below the street lamps. You no longer have any trouble walking, strowing confidently across the pavement, your hips swaying. You feel hungry.

“Oh, I'm doing just fine~” You sing-song, feeling a bit giddy with happiness. A singular man walks by and you have the sudden urge to chase after him, and make him kiss you. It's gone as soon as it has come, but it makes you snap out of your fearver, coming to a sudden stop on the concrete. 

“Ok wait, maybe something is wrong,” You say, bringing a hand up to your forehead. You feel no fever, but your hand shakes as you bring it away. Your body is still pulsing with heat, thrumming from your toes to the tips of your fingers and back down. And then the pain strikes. Blinding white pain running in tandem with the pleasure, mixing into a terrible cocktail of agony. You suppress a whimper, as your knees buckle, sending you tumbling towards the hard concrete.

Chrollo catches you before you can fall, reaching out to grip your waist, catching you a few feet from the ground. You bit back another whimper, this one threatening to rise from your throat as you feel his warm hand around your waist. You feel like crying.

“Name?” Chrollo says, gently bring his hand up to your chin and turn your face to look at him. “Can you tell me what's going on?

You whimper, unconsciously nuzzling into his hand as the burning pain recedes a bit to the edges of your body, and your consciousness returns slightly.

“I don't know,” You whimper, fully relaxing against him. He's the only thing between you and the cold hard concrete. “Why are you asking me like it's my fault?”

“Ok,” Chrollo says, grabbing your waist tightly and pulling the both of you to your feet. “Let's get you inside.”

“Mhm,” You murmur, nuzzling into his shoulder and breathing in his lovely scent. “Whatever you say.”

♱♱♱

The receptionist of the hotel sends him a scornful look as he walks up to the front desk, helping you walk.

It's a rather gaudy hotel, clearly a love hotel but it was the first one Chrollo spotted so it would have to do. It was better to get you into a hotel as soon as possible, you're clearly on some type of drugs.

The receptionist seems to agree, with the way she glares tiredly at him. 

“I switch jobs and it's always the same, huh.” She mutters, hitting the keys loudly. “Name, sir?”

“Benton,” Chrollo says, sliding the fake identification card across the counter. “This is my wife, Name Benton.”

“Uh huh,” The receptionist, Fumiko, sighs deeply through her teeth. “What kind of room do you want?” 

“Ah, I'll take the cheapest option please.” Chrollo says.

Fumiko raises an eyebrow, pinning him to the spot with her stare and letting silence fill the mostly empty lobby. Slowly, she slides her eyes to you, clearly drugged on his shoulder, and back to him. Chrollo feels more ashamed than he's ever felt before. 

“Cheapass,” Fumiko whispers, returning to the keyboard loudly. “Id?”

“Oh it–”

“Yeah,” Fumiko says, swiping it from the countertop. She looks at it for too long, holding it up to the light. Chrollo fears for a moment that she'll kick them out. He really doesn't want to find another love hotel, and you're getting more and more limp by the moment. Thankfully, she just sighs, going back to the computer with a sigh.

“Why do I even bother?” She mutters to herself, sliding the id back across the counter at him. “It's always worse, every time I ask. From barely legal to barely conscious…”

She continues muttering to herself, tapping away at the keys of the computer as Chrollo stands there, your body draped ungracefully against his side, breath coming in uneven little bursts. There's definitely something wrong with you.

“Cash or card?” Fumiko says. Chrollo slides the money over the counter. For some reason, he feels like this was the wrong move as Fumiko regards him with more suspicion as she hands over the room key.

“Enjoy your stay,” She bites out. 

“Thank you.” Chrollo says, moving towards the elevator of the pink and red lobby. He feels her hard stare on his back until the elevator doors close behind them. He hoists you up, cradling you in his arms for the second time tonight as your head lolls back, faint little pants exiting your mouth. Your eyes are hazy, your pretty curled hair tangling with his arms, hanging towards the ground in a waterfall of color. You look very pretty, but then again you always do.

It's a bit of a struggle to get you into the room, but he manages it, juggling you and the door as it shuts behind him with a solid heavy thud. He places you gently on the bed, sighing in relief and turning away to shed his own coat. When he turns around, you blink slowly at him. 

“Ah, you're awake?” he says, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. “How are you feeling?”

You dont reply, blinking slowly at him, eyes hazy. Chrollo feels a bit more worried. You're not really conscious, you’ve barely spoken full sentences since that man put his dirty hands all over your arms. He had assumed your lack of fighting had been to avoid a scene, but maybe it was something else. 

“Name, I need you to tell me what's wrong.” Chrollo begs you, more worry than strictly necessary leaking into his voice. Finally, your pink lips part.

“Hot,” You mutter, jumping to your fighting with the top of your dress. “Help me out of this.”

Chrollo obeys, turning you around and undoing the zipper of your black dress with a sigh. He ignores the swaths of skin on display from him, pointing his eyes strictly over your shoulder. You sigh, slipping out of your dress. Chrollo watches it pool below you on the floor, black slinky material sitting in a pile. You smile up at him for a moment, a twinkle of innocence in your hazy eyes, your hair sitting messily upon your shoulders, the straps of your bra tempting his eyes to look a little further. 

“Are you feeling better?” He asks instead, keeping his eyes strictly above your collarbones. You do have nice collarbones. He'd like to kiss them, if you would let him. You don't seem to like him much. Chrollo acknowledges that you must consider him boring, compared to the louder and more eccentric mission partner you were assigned. But he could be interesting. If you’d let him.  

“Mm,” You humm, turning away to crawl onto the bed. Chrollo's eyes take in your body as you crawl back, your ass on display for him to view. You're wearing matching black underwear. Heat runs through his body, and Chrollo feels his dick jump against his thigh. It's probably been too long. 

You’ve propped yourself up on your knees, your face pressed against the white bedsheets, your ass still high in the air, presented like a present. Chrollo is beginning to understand what exactly that man had slipped you. It must have been an Aphrodisiac of some sort. It's clear as you wind your hand down, and Chrollo watches you stroke your pussy through your panties. He clears his throat.

“What are you doing, Name?” He asks, undoing another button on his shirt. It's too hot here. 

“I feel so hot,” You whimper, and Chrollo watches as you push your panties aside, slipping a finger into yourself with a squelch. Chrollo bites his lip, hard. 

“Do you need my help?” He asks. You need to say yes. What will he do if you don't. He might lose his mind.

“Yeah,” You whimper, the white sheets stark against your pink lips. “Hurry.”

Chrollo moves embarrassingly fast, tossing his belt and shoes onto the floor with his jacket, and thrusting himself inside of you.

Your back arches, your toes curling in the white fabric as you clench deliciously around him. Chrollo bites back a groan, embarrassed of his eager behavior. He would have linked to work you up normally, maybe eat your pretty pussy. But that would have to wait for another day. And it seems you don't mind as you buck against him, urging him to move. 

“Ugh, you're big.” You whimper, hands knotting prettily in the white sheets. You look so pretty like this, turned on your back and grinning hazily up at him. He wonders how long this will last. He wonders if when you awaken tomorrow, you’ll regard him with the same cautious contempt you always do. 

Chrollo grips your waist with his hands, thrusting himself deep inside your clenching walls, setting a slow deep pace. You move with each thrust, pretty pink mouth letting out breathy pants and groans. If he's lucky, a pant of his name. The world around you is hazy, the gap of window shown by the curtains is fogged up, condensation and sweat muddling the world beyond. Your back arches, your body trembling as you grow closer to your orgasms.

“I'm close,” You whimper, muffled against the sheets. Chrollo presses his body against yours, pressing the two of you deep into the bed. You're laying flat now, your but reaching up to meet his short, deep thrusts. Your walls are clenching around him, driving him giddy.

Chrollo doesn't know how to feel. And so he focuses all of his energy on pleasing you. On watching the shudders and shivers of your shoulders, the clenching of your fingers, the gasping breaths spilling from your pink lips. He presses little kisses to your neck, leaving a pretty scatters of hickeys across your shoulders. The red spots make him swell with pride as you clench around him. 

“I'm cumming.” You groan, body tensing and walls suctioning him deep inside you. Chrollo obeys your body's command, thrusting himself deep inside of you one more time and letting himself go. Your moans are pretty as you come, and Chrollo muffles his own sounds in your shoulders, as stars the color of your eyes spill across his eyelids. 

He doesn't know what's going to happen after this. But at least for now, as he pulls himself out of you and curls up beside you, the world is content.

...

Endnotes: sry this ones kinda short i had a lot going on today lol

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Bury me into the sound of your name

a/n this is fiction. And i am not okay after this so have fun.

request: how about iii, ivy, and reader hanging out after the tour is finally over and decide to play truth or dare. and perhaps things get spicy after some weed consumption

warning: smutty, sexual content, iii x iv x reader too so keep that in mind.

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It had been the last show in Europe. Everyone was both tired yet thrilled about the European show so far. The crowds have been wild. Everyone seemed to be happy with how everything was going. You had joined your support act for a couple of drinks. The crew was just as excited for a couple of days of rest before everyone had to be shining smooth once more.

ii had been the first one to tap out with Vessel leaving alongside him. Both had never been too keen on crowded spaces and late nights. You, however, stayed till the hotel bar was closing. “See you guys”, you waved at everyone as people parted ways going back to their rooms. “Have a good one”, iii saluted, joined by iv as you three headed to your floor. “Are you guys going to sleep?”, iv asked undoing the first two buttons of his shirt. “We should but I know that I won’t be able to”, you shrugged. Even after years of touring the adrenaline still got the best of you at times. “Round two?”, iv wiggled his eyebrows, turning to both you and iii.

“We have a flight to catch tomorrow”, you pointed out. “So we wake up and go”, iii shrugged, nudging your shoulder. “Did you pack?”, you crossed your arms over your chest, raising an eyebrow at him. “Guess you will have to come and see for yourself”, winking at you, he draped an arm over your shoulder as you waited for the elevator. “Let’s see what Vess and ii think”, you suggested, pulling out your phone to type a quick message into the group chat. “I think they both are already passed out”, iv chuckled, motioning for you to get into the elevator first.

“Dang you lucked out with the room”, you looked around, the place was huge. There had been some unplanned changes meaning that a couple of rooms had been upgraded since they had miscounted them.

“For two big guys”, iv chucked, “I'm sure your ego still doesn’t fit here”, you snorted. “Shit face”, ivy bit back leaning forward, “Asshole”, you chirped, turning from him. “I have some good shit”, iii walked out of the side room. Beer bottles beneath one arm, a bag of blanks, and no doubt weed in the other. “Oh, we’re prepared”, you chuckled settling down onto the sofa. “We’re here to have fun”,’ Ivy opened one beer, handing it to you. iii quickly rolled a perfectly looking blunt before pressing it against his lips. You couldn’t help but bite your lip as you watched him lighting it up, before making grabby fingers at it. “Vessel said to not let you smoke”, iii smirked, making you roll your eyes, “Shush”, you clicked your tongue, “Hand it over”, “Come and take it”, he dared you. With a roll of your eyes, you reached out, one hand on his thigh as you leaned over him. Stopping to stare at him before pulling the blunt from his lips, taking a drag yourself. Carefully slumping against his chest as you puffed a white cloud out.

“I have a suggestion”, iv hummed after taking a sip. Both you and iii turning to him. “Let’s play truth or dare”, there was a pause of silence before you both fell into fits of laughter. “How old are we, Ivy, ten?”, iii chuckled, leaning back to take a swing of his drink. “Were you drunk and high at that age playing this?”, iv grumbled, “we’ll play like grown-ups”.’ Something about that sentence alone had made a light tinge spread over your core. “Well, lead the way grown up”, iii shook his head.

“Truth or dare, bassy boy”, ivy leaned back against the soft edge waisting no time . “Dare”, iii mused, making iv smirk, “chose an article of clothing on y/n and take it off”. Both your and iii’s faces went blank before the realization hit you as you two turned to one another. “Your consent?”, iii asked taking a long drag of the cigarette. “All yours” you mussed, “Up you go then”, iii pulled you off the sofa, before kneeling in front of you.

“What are…”, you gripped his shoulders as he lifted one of your legs onto his knee, fingers reaching for the straps of your heels. “Got to help your friends out”, iii mused looking up at you, “Aren’t they killing you, love”, before you had a chance to answer he leaned down kissing your leg, moving up the side of your thigh and giving it a light bite. You couldn’t help it throwing your head up as a moan slipped past your lips. Ivy chuckled from behind you both.

Switching legs iii let his fingers go further up the black silk dress you had on. Inching over your thigh and up your ass. His head instantly snapped up, hand stalling because he was in on your secret too. You press your finger to your lips. iii just shook his head smirking before he leaned in to kiss your hip, pulling back and reaching for his beer. You let out a breath, sitting down yourself. Fingers trembling slightly as you reached for the blunt.

“Truth or dare, ivy”, you crocked out. “Dare, of course”, he shrugged. You let yourself breathe for a moment, “I dare you to kiss iii”, you muttered, voice small. Yes, you three messed around from time to time but it had never really ended in proper sex. The waters seemed murky here. You didn’t know where was the limit. “What was that?” iv mused getting up as he made his way to you, “I didn’t hear you, baby”, you watched him for a heartbeat. “Make out with iii”, you said a lot firmer this time. Ivy simply hummed turning to iii, pulling the cigarette away from his lips, brushing it against his before taking a drag. “What do you say, slinky?”, iv cooed making iii roll his eyes before he took a fist full of his shirt dragging him down. You watched them. Not even daring to blink in case it all disappeared. The way they moved effortlessly against one another. Hungrily fighting over control as they kissed. You quickly cross your legs, trying to find any sort of friction. Fingers itching to circle your core. With a couple of pecks, they pulled away both panting, Ivy brushing his thumb over iii lips.

“Truth or dare, minx”, you blinked quickly, the daze around you lifting ever so slightly. “Dare”, you muttered, licking your lips. “Come, get this shirt off me, love”, ivy beckoned you over with his finger. You didn’t trust your legs yet you still stood. Letting the leather jacket slip down your shoulders before you slowly walked to him. You reached for his beer before handing it to him. “Enjoy”, you uttered, sinking to your knees, both hands on each of his thighs. “Jesus, fuck”, Ivy grunted, running a hand over his mouth. You smirked, pushing your hair over one shoulder as you leaned over, kissing the already exposed part of his chest as your fingers messily worked on the rest of the buttons. Raking your fingers down his chest you yanked the material of the shirt that was tucked into his pants out. Looked up just before you kissed down his happy trail, nibbling at the skin around the waistband of his pants. “Yn”, he grunted, “dangerous territory you’re entering”, he warned you, hand already pulling fistfuls off your hair. You liked your lips as you looked back at him, pushing up against his knees.

The room was getting stuffy from the smell of weed. The sexual tension was so thick you could feel it. “Iii”, you started only to be cut off, “take the top of y/n dresses off”. “Being hard makes you rude”, you chuckled, “I want you to have a taste of your own medicine”, ivy mewled. “I can play nice”, iii snickered pulling at your hand as he helped you settle against his lap. His warm breath on your shoulder sending a shiver down your spine.

He took his time, kissing down your throat, nuzzling his nose against your cheek before pulling the strap of your dress with his teeth. “Shit”, “fuck me”, they both echoed in unison. You couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling the other strap off yourself as you turned towards iv, so he too could get a nicer view. “When?”, iii breathed, hand reaching out to cup your breast. The metal bars glistened in the dim light. “Better question is how did we not see it”, ivy perked up. “Not long ago, hence the loose shirts”, you smiled softly, before iii leaned down licking the still soar nipple, tongue dancing over the metal bar, “fuck iii”, you whimpered, grinding against him.

“Jesus, I can’t do this”, ivy said, you could hear him unbuckling his pants. “We’re either fucking or going our separate ways 'cause I’m about to lose it”. Iii chuckled against your skin, biting the side of your breast, your hands grabbed onto his head, the strands of blond hair tangled around your fingers. “Show him”, iii mused pulling back, making you whine from the lost contact. “Show me what?”, ivy urged, hand already down his underwear as he palmed himself softly. “Or should I?”, iii asked, pulling you off his lap, so you would face ivy once more. Bending your knees before pulling your thighs apart, the silk bunching up in waves around your waist. “Fucking hell”, ivy threw his head back at the sight. “Looks pretty doesn’t it”, iii slowly reaching out, fingers spreading the wetness around your pussy. “The whole night”, iv grunted, “y/n”. You couldn’t answer as iii slowly dipped his finger into you, making you moan out, “Ahhh, iii… please”, you buckled your hips up. “Maybe call out Ivy’s name, help him cum while he watches, hmm”, iii mused against your ear. “I want to fuck her not watch”, iv grunted. “This is more fun”, iii mused against your chest. Moving his fingers inside you as he once again wrapped his mouth around your nipple. You arched your back, eyes glued on iv spreading pre com onto his cock as he jerked off. Both of you moaned out until a harsh knock sounded on the door.

“Guys you’re in here”, ii voice cut through the now dead silent room. “Fuck”, iv cursed, pulling his pants back up. “Motherfucker”, iii grunted, pulling the straps of your dress up as he licked his fingers clean, “Coming”, he shouted, as he helped you sit up. “I sure was hoping to”, iv grunted trying to hide his boner. “We brought food”, Vessel added from the other side. “On it, can’t find the key”, iii shouted, giving everyone a look over before, moving towards the door. Leaving you and iv to stare at each other, chests still raining and falling unevenly.

[capnsaltsquid]

I've made it through most of the STP endings now and, as odd as it may seem, the most emotionally impactful ones to me were the ones I got when the Stranger was the first vessel encountered.

Not only does the dialogue with the Princess seem more heartfelt, the presence of the Contrarian that makes a huge difference. He's been here alone with his regrets ever since his actions helped lead to the creation of the Stranger...

... and you can tell that she's been on his mind:

Of all the voices, I can't think of another who has grown in the way he did. Even the Hero is mostly the same as he ever was, but the Contrarian's abrasiveness has gone. He's still a joker, but it's tempered with maturity now.

He recognizes the harm he did, and when the Princess offers forgiveness there's no snark or brashness, just gratitude. And when the Princess comments that they're still fragmented...

... he's the one that puts 2 and 2 together and realizes how alike we and the Princess are:

Other things I loved about this ending include the Hero not being able to help taking over from the Narrator ...

... the Contrarian being so proud of you for being contrary to him and chucking the knife out the window and into the back of some poor random vessel (RIP) ...

... and knowing for certain that the Hero is not alone after you and the Princess leave for the world outside.

[charliedawn]

I had an idea…

What if the slashers had medieval classes ?

Michael Myers: The Silent Knight (Paladin/Death Knight)

Michael would likely take on the role of a Paladin or Death Knight, a silent and relentless force, protecting or hunting those he sees as connected to his past. His stoic demeanor and indomitable strength fit well with a character bound by a code or curse. Wielding a large, unholy blade or a dark relic, he would move silently through the battlefield, unstoppable in his pursuit.

His nickname: THE BOOGEYMAN

Jason Voorhees: The Berserker (Barbarian)

Jason would be a Barbarian, a raging warrior who channels his deep-seated trauma into overwhelming strength. Unstoppable in combat, his fury would make him a terrifying force on the battlefield. His connection to nature and water could give him druidic or ranger-like powers, drawing energy from the lake he protects. His armor would be rough and battle-worn, a reminder of his tragic past.

His nickname: THE GREAT SENTINEL

Freddy Krueger: The Trickster Mage (Illusionist/Warlock)

Freddy would be a Trickster Mage or Illusionist, using dark magic and mind-bending tricks to torment his enemies. His power over dreams would translate into casting illusions and manipulating reality itself. As a warlock, he would be bound to some dark, dream-dwelling entity, granting him power over nightmares and subconscious fears. His ability to deceive and create horror would make him a formidable opponent.

His nickname: THE DREAM DEMON

Chucky: The Rogue (Assassin)

Chucky would definitely be a Rogue, specifically an Assassin. His small size, agility, and cunning nature would make him a deadly opponent who strikes from the shadows. He’s quick, ruthless, and deceptive, slipping into places unnoticed and finishing his targets with precision. He might wield daggers or short swords, and his roguish personality would make him both deadly and unpredictable.

His nickname: THE CHUCK

Leatherface (Barbarian/Fighter)

Leatherface would be a hybrid class of Barbarian and Fighter, specializing in brute strength and close-quarters combat. As a hulking warrior, he would wield massive cleavers or axes, cutting down foes with brutal efficiency. His knowledge of flesh and anatomy would make him particularly horrifying in battle, and his chaotic nature would lean toward the frenzy of a berserker.

He would also collect the faces of his victims.

His nickname: THE BUTCHER

Norman Bates: The Haunted Scholar (Cleric/Necromancer)

Norman would be a Cleric, but with a twist toward the darker side—perhaps even a Necromancer. His deep-seated connection to his "Mother" would translate into a religious devotion or a spiritual connection with the dead. He’d be torn between his desire to heal and protect and his darker impulses to manipulate life and death. He might summon spirits or act as a vessel for his mother's spirit to protect or haunt those around him.

His first try as a Necromancer was to revive his mother.

It didn’t end well.

His nickname: THE DEATH WIELDER

The Penny Brothers: The Eldritch Jesters (Warlocks)

The Penny Brothers would be Eldritch Jesters, Warlocks bound to some horrifying, ancient force. Their ability to shapeshift, manipulate, and terrify would be channeled through their connection to an eldritch being—Maturin—who would grant they their reality-warping abilities. Their playful yet malevolent personalities would thrive as they toy with their enemies, using their fears and illusions to break their minds before devouring them.

Their nickname: THE HELL BROTHERS

Brahms: The Possessed Doll (Warlock)

Brahms would fit as a Warlock, whose powers come from his pact with a dark or cursed force. His doll-like nature would translate into some kind of possession or spiritual bond that grants him control over objects or people. He would be a mix of stealth and manipulation, haunting his enemies from the shadows, using enchantments or summoning powers to influence others and protect his secretive existence.

His nickname: THE SHADOW/THE DOLL

Bo Sinclair: The Cunning Fighter (Rogue/Fighter)

Bo would be a Rogue-Fighter hybrid, relying on cunning, deception, and brute strength. His charming Southern accent would serve as a disarming tactic, luring enemies into traps, while his fighter abilities would make him lethal in combat. He’d have a natural charisma that draws people in, only for them to realize too late that he’s set them up for their demise. He’d likely wield traps or intricate weapons that reflect his tactical mind.

His nickname: BO THE TORTURER

Vincent Sinclair: The Sculptor (Artificer)

Vincent would be an Artificer, crafting horrific "art" from his enemies. His quiet and methodical nature would lend itself to crafting traps, weapons, and even using alchemy or magic to mold and shape his surroundings. He’d specialize in creating deadly sculptures or golems from the remains of his enemies, fitting with his obsession with artistic perfection. His silence would make him an elusive and mysterious figure in battle.

His nickname: THE ARTIST

Ghostface: The Shadowy Stalker (Rogue/Ranger)

Ghostface would be a Rogue-Ranger, a stalker who uses stealth and precision to track down his targets. With a preference for knives and ranged attacks, he’d be adept at hiding in plain sight and striking from the shadows. His mask would make him a symbol of fear, and his quick wit would give him an edge in both intelligence and combat.

His nickname: THE BLOODY SOLDIER

Jack Torrance (Berserker/Warlock)

In a medieval setting, Jack would be the type of warrior who once upheld order but has now been corrupted by darker forces. His axe would become a symbol of his madness, and his warlock abilities could manifest as hallucinations or eldritch whispers, pushing him further into insanity. His unpredictability and violent outbursts would make him as dangerous to his allies as to his enemies, and his descent into madness would reflect the darker elements of his personality.

His nickname: THE CURSED/FALLEN KNIGHT

[destielbeatlesminibang]

Masterlist!

And that's a wrap! Many thanks to all the writers, artists and betas who contributed to the first Destiel Beatles Minibang!

If you haven't had a chance, you can check out all the incredible works below!

The Long and Winding Road (Explicit), written by FriendofCarlotta with art by Gemma

1970: Sixteen years have passed since Dean and Castiel parted ways — separated after years of loving each other quietly and secretly at the boarding school they both attended.

Life took them along two very different paths, with Dean drifting across the country for years while Castiel launched a career in academia at Princeton. But now, a twist of fate is set to reunite them: as teachers at the same school where it all began.

Will they be able to find their way back to each other, or is it too late to start all over again?

When My Mind Is Wandering (There I Will Go) (Teen and Up), written by rachelindeed with art by hawkland Finale fix-it: In order to save Dean’s life, Cas has to temporarily take him as a vessel. While Dean’s body heals, they decide to explore what a life outside of hunting could look like. On a volunteer trip a few towns over, they are reminded of the beauty of community. And as Cas’s thoughts mix with his own, Dean learns how freeing it can be to see himself through the eyes of someone who loves him.

While My Guitar Gently Weeps (Teen and Up), written by eyesofatragedy67 with art by witchy-worm

Cas’s deal with the Empty broke Dean’s heart. And no matter what they tried, they couldn’t get him out.

They did manage to take care of Chuck, though, and with him out of the picture, Dean finally hung up his gear and built a life for himself. Or whatever passes for life when the one person you want to share it with most is out of reach.

But Dean’s got his bar, Charlie at his side, and his guitar to keep him company on the nights memories pull him under.

And he hopes against hope that someday Cas will return to him.

Anna, Go to Him (Teen and Up), written by butterflyslinky with art by golby-moon

Dean arrives at a new (but hopefully last) high school, where he meets overachiever Anna. There may be something going on there…if only she would stop talking up this guy called Cas.

Close Your Eyes and I'll Kiss You (Teen and Up), written by tfw_cas with art by golby-moon

Dean Winchester has been secretly in love with his college roommate and best friend Cas for years, but he’s convinced Cas doesn’t feel the same.

When he’s offered a teaching position thousands of miles away, he sees it as an opportunity to be closer to his brother… and maybe give himself some distance from his feelings for Cas. After all, it’s not like they can’t still be friends.

But things go badly when Cas finds out, and Dean’s not sure their friendship is going to survive. And as for his dreams coming true… Well, those are just lyrics, right?

In Matters of Faith (Teen and Up), written by celestial_starlight with art by witchy-worm

After Sam and Dean burn Cas’s body, Dean walks. He leaves Sam with a devil baby he can barely stand to look at and rents a cabin near the field where he spread Cas’s ashes. He prays to Cas day and night, desperate for his faith to mean something. His calls wake Cas and bring him right back to Dean’s doorstep. Dean takes him home, struggling to sort out a rollercoaster of feelings while the three of them figure out how to raise a nephilim child.

Love You With All My Heart (Explicit), written by samanddean76 with art by hexentaenzarin

Dean is an up-and-coming musician, who along with his brother Sam, has finally started to make waves with their band, The Quarrymen. Little does he know that the perfectly innocent Omega sitting in the front row of The Cavern Club, watching him perform with an enchanting smile, is the True Mate he has been longing for his entire life.

Castiel can hardly believe his luck, when he and Gabriel are invited backstage after the show. Once Gabriel slips away with Sam, Castiel is left alone with the incredibly handsome Alpha who spent the entire show singing every single song to him. But the club is raided before they can cement their bond, and Castiel is forced to flee into the night.

Whisked away by an overprotective mother, Castiel doesn’t know if he will ever see Dean again. He seeks solace in writing his poems, and fervently wishes that one day he will be reunited with the man he loves, not knowing that destiny and fate are working to bring the separated mates back together.

Lucy In the Tank With Morons (Explicit), written by queerwerewolf with art by TwinOne

Dean Winchester, a premiere shark biologist at the Georgia Aquarium, who works with their three tiger sharks, never ever expected to find himself enamored with a newly acquired giant Pacific octopus, and more importantly, her exceedingly handsome blue-eyed handler. In a little hide-away beneath the waves, Dean will fall in love in an octopus’s garden.

[lazyjellyfishcreation]

SPN time travel au lets go

Supernatural time travel au where the world ends.

Chuck wrote a failsafe into the universe when he realized that Sam and Dean were getting too competent for their won good, so when Jack kills Chuck, the failsafe triggers and whipes everything out.

The only ones left standing are Jack, whom is the new god and therefore a little more powerfull then the rest, and Sam, because of a spell Rowena put on him. Before they both die, Jack tells Sam that they can still safe everyone by going back in time. If Sam can rally hell behind him, and Jack rally's heavens angels, they can together kill chuck. If Jack can transport them to before Chuck made the failsafe, they can make this right.

And thus, Sam dies, and then wakes up roughly 19 years in the past, on the day he's supposed to leave for collage. And he does. He recons that he only has a few weeks at most to rally all of hell behind him and he cannot do that with a 22 year old Dean hanging on his shoulder, trying to protect him. (not to mentions his shitty father whom is also there and holy shit Sam hasn't thought about him for a while, but his day just got from bad to worse)

Anyhow, he wakes up in cold sweat, trows up into the toilet, and tries his very hardest not to get weepy when he sees is 22 brother for the first time again. He's so young. He's practically a baby. His eyes are full of light and he hasn't seen hell yet. Hell, he doesn't even know hell exists yet. He's still innocent and the worst thing he's ever faced is Azazel. Sam would do anything to keep him that way.

So, he leaves. he tells dad about collage, they fight. Sam has to surpress his urge to punch is father out because holy shit the man is being childish, but he manages to get away after his father punches his instead. Dean comes between them and Sam almost laughs. He had forgotten that his father punches like a bitch. He's been tortured by the devil, he died like, 8 times. that was nothing.

he doesn't go to Stanford. Or well, he does, but only to see Jess. She doesn't see him, of course. Azazel told him she was doomed to die the second she laid eyes on him, and he will not let that slide. She's so young, so innocent. Still a child by all accounts. Sam almost feels like a creep. He was almost 40 by now, even though he doesn't look it. He still loves her, he always will, but he can't love her like he used to anymore.

He leaves campus without ever checking in. He was never there to begin with.

After finding and more or less recruiting the rest of the special children, It's surprisingly easy to take over hell.

Hell is a mess.

Crowly is sort of in charge, but not really, Hell has become a lawless land in Chucks relative absence. And well, by manipulating Azazel, and killing a few demons that are not with the program, he quickly establishes himself as king, with the rest of the special children as his generals. At once, they march onto heaven. He gives strict orders to only go for Chuck. Leave the angels be, Only kill god.

And they do. With the angels, demons, Jack and Sam working together, Chuck dies, and Jack takes over.

Sam himself starts revamping hell for it previous purpose: punishing the wicked. Not only that, but punishing them with severity to their crime. Sure, theft is a sin, but you shouldn't get tortured for forever just because you took a TV that wasn't yours, you feel me?

At this point, Azazel realizes that his was a bad idea, Sam is now ultimate ruler of hell and nothing is going as planned. First and formost, he has absoulutely refused to even go near the idea of becoming the vessel for lucifer, and secondly, he's powerfull enough to actually be king of hell without him. there have been several uprisings, but sam has squashed them all down with little effort.

it's starting to become concerning.

before he can do anything about it tho, sam straight up murders him. No drama, no fanciness, Sam just striaght up stabs him in the back "That's for ruining my life you sicko" and he's dead. He doesn't deserve better.

The demons that disagree with sam start to flee at that point. trying to usurp him isn't working, but if they regroup in the mortal world, sam would be too busy ruling hell to come after them.

But no, Sam makes a deal with Crowley, Crowley becomes his official regent and rules with Sam's rules in Sam's absence, and in exchange, Sam gets Crowley's soul, just to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid like take the power for himself or something.

So now that hell is fixed (he did that in like, roughly one earth year, so 12 hell years) he can go above ground, to kill the demons that are escaping to earth and thus terrorizing human mortals.

he quickly makes a name for himself in the hunter ranks. None of them understand how this 19 year old kid is able to kill this many demons in this little time, yet every time someone has a demon problem, it's Sam who shows up, and straight up kills them, which is notoriously difficult.

Some even claim that the demons seem to fear the youngest Winchester. One or two are spreading stories that a demon called Sam 'your majesty' but nobody believes that. And that's without speaking about the other people that seem to occasionally hover around, clearly his friends, but they seem to listen to him, like he is their leader.

All in all, the hunters aren't sure what to make of him.

And then the bunkers start showing up. Safehouses all accross the country, where hunters can relax, restock and heal from injuries. It's crazy. Nobody knows where the bunkers come from, but they seem old.

Meanwhile, John and Dean have no idea what is going on. John is being his antisocial self and none of the hunters have any rush to tell the volatile man that they all think his youngest son (his pride and joy that left them) has gone completely sideways and is now terrifying. They are straight up minding their business and just avoiding them like usual.

Bobby knows. Sam explained it to him, well part of it anyway. About hell, and god and the devil. Bobby didn't take his word for it at first, but when Sam showed him hell, it all became a lot more believable. He begs Bobby not to tell his brother and father. That this is his fight and he doesn't want his brother in this mess. Bobby promises.

I will write a part two with a reunion at some point, if you want me to tag you in it, reply to it!

[lol-jackles]

I know its beens awhile but what did you think of S15 as a whole?

As a whole I think season 15 was an above-average season due to below-average execution and ended with a stellar series finale that added rewatch value not just for season 15 but also all of 15 seasons.

Season 15 started and ended with callbacks to previous seasons; from season 1's woman in white and Sam's goal of returning to a normal life, to season 5's Dean's time in hell as Alastair's apprentice and bringing closure to Adam Milligan, to season 8's endgames for Sam and Dean.

The first half of the season 15 was about free will vs determinism, with Sam representing the former and Dean representing the latter.  Sam and Dean’s confrontation with God parallels how they've reacted to family and authority their entire lives: Sam challenged God’s Divine decree over His Creation while Dean accused God of abandoning His Creation.  When Abraham spoke with his heart and mind to God over His plan to destroy Sodom & Gomorrah, it led to Abraham transcending himself, leading the way for God, and becoming the father of faith. Metaphorically it's all about lessons in honest, meaningful relationships with our fellow human beings.   People often suppress their true selves and principles for the sake of avoiding conflict instead of taking the relationship a step further into a place of sincerity.   From season 11 to 14, Sam and Dean spoke their hearts and minds to God and the brothers' relationship became at its strongest, never wavering even when occasional arguments sprouts up because they were honest with each other.

Sam and God became connected through Sam's hope which manifested in their identical wounds. Secular-based hope is about anticipating something good to come in the future.  Sam has hope in a better future, so Chuck showed him a bleak future to make his lose that hope.  Once Sam lost his hope, God leaves.  That’s pretty much what happens to people in real life, when they lose hope, they feel there is no God or God abandoned them. Another physical manifestation of a bleak future is Dean's old friend who retired from hunting, Lee, who became so corrupted that Dean is forced to kill him.

The return of Sam and Dean's half-brother, Adam, brings welcome closure.  Adam is not out for revenge as he acknowledged his own culpability for agreeing to vessel-ship in the first place.  Him and Michael only having each other for 10 years in the Cage led to their codependent-symbiotic-ish relationship that parallels Sam and Dean to some extent.  

I like to call the second half of season 15 the "Dean redemption tour" where side characters were used to address Dean's unresolved issues in order for him to be good enough for Sam in their eternal afterlife. Normally whenever Dean interacted with side characters it is about the side characters, not Dean (see example here and here). But when the formula is reversed, it becomes a bit disjointed, and the audience picked up on it. The final redemption act target Dean's anger issues that both Amara and Chuck discussed.

Chuck: This is my ending.  My real ending. 

Very next scene: *Dean pulls a gun on Sam*

Dean’s been so obsessed with having free will that he’s actually following Chuck’s writing.  As usual Sam broke through to Dean, in effect breaking Chuck’s influence. Then a very mad mad Chuck shows up.

Chuck:  “Are you kidding me? After all that, you did it again!”

Then 15x18 happened. Ignoring the hilarity of that scene, the speech was supposed to remind the general audience that Dean is A HERO before he dies two episodes later. By 15x19, free will vs determinism comes to a conclusion.   Michael and Lucifer betrayed the Winchesters and succumb to determinism, fulfilling their destiny to destroy each other.  Sam and Dean manipulated Michael to lure Chuck into a trap to replace him with a new God, Jack. Chuck is left only with human frailties and for the first time Chuck has no idea what happens next, bringing the free will theme to a full circle.  

Due to interactions with Sam, Rowena became the new queen of Hell while Jack becomes the new God of Heaven. Jack promises Sam that He will have a hands-off approach and people don’t need to pray or sacrifice to Him. Jack’s perception of humanity is distilled down to, “When people have to be their best, they can be.” 

Before the story ends, the protagonist is supposed to accomplish their primary goal that had kept them driven and move the story forward.  Sam’s goal was attaining normal life, it was never about eradicating monsters to extinction or avenging his mother’s death.  In fiction it always seems like the main character want many things, but there is always a primary goal.  Harry Potter gets dragged into many subplots such as conflicts with his best friends, romantic misfires, and incidents with secondary characters, however his main goal was always to defeat Voldemort and that's what the audience is holding out to see.  Sam Winchester’s journey is flipped from Harry Potter’s; Sam gets dragged into many subplots of saving the world, defeating the Big Baddies, and conflicts with his brother, however his main goal was always to have a chance at a normal life. But this can't happen while Dean is still alive.

Dean has everything he wanted: Sam and hunting.  Dean is a complete person; he doesn’t need anything else. But Sam had given up just about everything so that Dean wouldn’t be alone. 15x16 reminded the audience that Sam wanted out of the hunting life since he was a child. Sure, Sam is very good at his job and even became a leader, but they always made sure to show that Sam doesn’t have passion for the family business other than saving people’s lives.  Claire Novak shows way more enthusiasm for the job. But Dean would never retire from the hunting life.  Even when Michael gave Dean a fantasy life, Dean still conjured up monsters so he can fight and kill them.  As long as Dean is alive, Sam will never be free to pursue a normal life.  Think back to Dean's speech in season 8 telling Sam to pursue his normal life only after Dean dies with a gun in his hand and a smile on his face.

The pivotal barn scene in the 15x20 finale was genius, bringing the series to full circle with callback to the pilot, fleshing it out, adding backstory to Dean’s pov that brings his fear, need, relief, and love to stark relief.  It hurt like hell, and at the same time, cathartic because Dean was honest.   The way Dean said, “Come here. Let me look at you. There he is!”  That’s Dean in dad mode, the parental figure to Sam.  The show reminded the audience in 15x18 that Dean raised his little brother.  Still in dad mode, Dean then tells Sam that he is proud of him.  It’s what every son wants to hear from their dad.

Dean then goes into brother mode and tells Sam he admires his strength even when they were children.  Sam’s strength is such that Dean was afraid that Sam doesn’t need him. Fearing rejection, he stood outside of Sam’s dorm for hours before finally going to Sam because it’s always been Sam and Dean, and Dean can’t comprehend if he didn’t have Sam. 

From there Dean gives Sam his blessing to keep living his life.  “I love you so much, my baby brother”. Sam’s reaction was pure and raw, he has always been honest about his wants and needs but craves Dean’s approval to pursue them, and now he has it.  Sam’s faith in Dean went answered with Dean saying how proud he is of Sam, how much he admired Sam’s strength so that Sam knows he is strong enough to go on living without Dean.  

Another reason why the barn scene is genius is the pilot callback sets up Sam and Dean’s reunion in New Heaven as pilot 2.0.  From there they will build their relationship just as Sam and Dean.  They are at peace without monsters disrupting their lives, without vindictive angels disrupting their afterlives, and without childhood angsts weighing them down.  They have both freedom and peace.

This applies to all of the hunters.  Jack’s New Heaven is like a retirement home for hunters where they can enjoy their peace and socialize with their friends and loved ones and even upgrade themselves to the people they were meant to be on earth.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Dunno if y’all take requests but I’d love a list of vintage destiel reccs, like canon or canon divergent season 4/season 5.

We do take requests! I'm sorry it took a while to come up with this list but here are a few of our favorites from early seasons.

A Different Kind of Falling by Lyrial [Explicit, 72k words]

“I will do it then,” Castiel said with confidence that he did not truly possess. “I will pretend to be a hunter and gain the trust of Dean Winchester so that we may locate Michael’s grace and restore him. I might not be as familiar with humanity as Balthazar is, but I am still a master tactician. I am certain that deceiving a few humans will be well within my capabilities.” As the humans would say, famous last words. (Dean is the fallen archangel Michael. Castiel is sent on a mission to restore him to his angelic self. Things get complicated, however, when Castiel finds himself falling for Dean.)

A Different Kind of Monster by roadtonowhere (lastoryx), xfancyfranart [Explicit, 89k words]

Something in Bodie, California is luring truckers to their deaths and Dean’s on his way to take it out. It’s the first time Bobby’s given him a case and, with Sam at Stanford and his dad off chasing demons, he's finally hunting monsters on his own. When an accidental encounter puts an as-of-yet-unknown monster in the passenger seat of his car, Dean decides to ice him, taking his dad's old adage to heart: a monster is always a monster. Unfortunately, Dean can’t seem to figure out what kind of monster "Castiel" is and he certainly can’t shake him.

Faith Healer by punkascas (earlwyn) [Explicit, 75k words]

Dean hates faith healers. Scam artists and power-hungry dicks, all of them. But with Sam nearing the end of his rope and desperate for a way to keep their father’s last words from being true, Dean has no choice but to turn to the enigmatic and irascible Castiel, more tattooed junkie than spiritual leader, in hopes of finding a way to cure Sam. Yet Castiel hides dangerous secrets, and Dean soon learns they have more to worry about than just Yellow Eyes and Sam’s growing demonic abilities. War is coming. Canon divergent after 2.10.

Good One's Gonna Be by remmyme [Explicit, 37k words]

Castiel Novak receives a rather alarming text message from an unknown number, and what started as a simple misdial quickly turns into the greatest friendship Castiel has ever known. But Dean has many secrets, dangerous truths about the life he lives, and would like to tell Castiel exactly none of them. A (slightly) AU, (mostly) text fic, S3 fix-it romance (of sorts).

Holy!Dean verse by bunnymaccool [Explicit, 120k words]

Dean Winchester has grown used to God dicking around in his life the last couple years. But this crap? This takes the CAKE ... or pie, rather. Now he's been thrown a whole new curve-ball. The kind that has ended the Civil War in Heaven ... but resulted in Raphael taking over, and hunting for Dean's ass on a silver platter. Not to mention dealing with Balthazar acting like a self-righteous prick, Sam having some big damn epiphany on his big brother's sexuality, and Cas eying him up like he's the world's juiciest cheeseburger. All that mixed with the chance to fix it all and set everything to rights ... but only if Dean is willing to sacrifice himself. Again. Seriously, if he ever meets that bastard God he's gonna- ... oh hey, Chuck! What are you doing here?

On Falling by kettleknight [Mature, 34k words]

After saving Dean from Hell, Castiel is tasked with convincing him to say "yes" to Michael should the apocalypse come to pass. But the time to complete this mission is quickly running out, and his superiors are expecting an answer soon. Desperate for a solution, Castiel asks his vessel for help and is forced to make a decision: help the apocalypse follow through, or crash head-first into humanity and damn the consequences.

Profoundly Different by amireal, tiamatv [Explicit, 190k words]

"Castiel?" Sam calls out, carefully. Both of them lower their guns but don’t put them away, yet: there’s no sign of a struggle, but the guy did just break out of an insane asylum by squishing an orderly. With a bureau that he shouldn't have been able to move. "We're not gonna hurt you. We're here to help. My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean." There's a loud silence. Dean can hear the wind rustling through the structure. A deep voice suddenly speaks up. It’s coarse and raspy and sounds like it hurts coming out; he’s never heard anything like it. It sends shivers down Dean's spine. "Dean?” the man asks. “Dean Winchester?" (A Season 4 AU: what if the fallen angel Dean and Sam ran into was Castiel, not Anna?)

See the World in Green and Blue by parenthetical [Explicit, 8k words]

Castiel spends a day learning what it's like to be human.

So Says The Sword by komodobits [Explicit, 85k words]

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’ Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

Strandlines by aeli_kindara [Explicit, 40k words]

It’s September 18, 2008. Castiel is being deployed to rescue Dean Winchester from Hell. He lands in Dean Winchester’s motel room in 2003. Things go from there.

The Girlfriend Experience by rageprufrock [Explicit, 15k words]

While it's not like Dean hasn't had a couple of truly regrettable hit-and-runs in his sexual history, this is probably the saddest fucking thing that has ever happened to him.

Thursday’s Child by strangeandcharm [Explicit, 114k words]

Thursday's child has far to go.

You can also check our time travel tag. We've reviewed some fics that play around with them going back in time. Here are a few:

a turn of the earth by microcomets [Mature, 95k words]

adam bites the apple by sicsempertyrannis [Teen, 11k words]

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord [Explicit, 25k words]

Face to Face with the Skies by quiddative [Explicit,42k words]

Like a Comet in the Sky, I'll Follow You Across the Universe by super_skam310 [Explicit, 107k words]

the weight of water by eddiegirl [Explicit, 46k words]

[t00muchheart]

Jump the Shark is SUCH an interesting look at John Winchester and Sam’s & Dean’s relationships with him via how they respond to Adam’s existence both initially and after accepting that he’s really their brother !

It also just says so much about where they’re at currently—Sam seeing hunting as a life that can’t be escaped, only prepared for (because he tried to escape and now he’s facing a destiny); Dean wanting to send Adam away from the hunt to Bobby’s (the safest place he can think of) because he deserves a chance to get out, live a normal life (like Dean would have if he’d had the chance). These are themes that come up consistently as we get to the end of season four: in It’s a Terrible Life, Sam Wesson believes he’s destined for something more, while Dean Smith doesn’t believe in destiny, wanting to hold onto his normal life; in The Monster at the End of this Book, Sam believes that they should use Chuck’s prophecy to approach Lilith (to encounter their destiny) while Dean believes they should try to work around it, to avoid the fate that’s laid out for them.

And all of that is symptomatic of their current places in the overall narrative: Sam trying to take his powers and embrace them, use them for good (because they feel inescapable, and if he has to have them he wants to use them to save the world), and Dean trying to resist the plan the angels have in place for him, to push back against the future they say he’s destined for.

And they were set up for that by their destinies and by the people around them. There’s Ruby, who has acted like Sam’s friend, helping him grow strong in order to achieve her own ends, who is acting as though she’s different from the demons but who is only pushing Sam to get stronger and hunt more because it will position him where she wants. On the other side, there’s Castiel, saying he’s like the other angels but privately having doubts, beginning to feel, helping Dean find a loophole to save Sam from Lilith and beginning to try to understand humanity, to see why it deserves salvation.

And Adam’s role in all that is so interesting because by the end of the episode we know he’s dead, has been dead, unwittingly dragged into the world of hunting by John even after his death, and Dean insists on a hunters funeral even when Sam suggests asking Cas to bring him back—because in his eyes, being dead but not in the mess of the Winchester’s lives is the better option, the better place to be. (But of course, he’s ultimately dragged into it anyway, revived just to become the vessel Dean refuses to be and then locked away for it, locked away for over a thousand years)

[bleghbleghladydeath]

BRIAN AND TIM

No particular AU. TW: Mentions of sex, drugs and murder. Cussing, murder, killing a cop, abuse.

Tim sighed as he drove down the road. It's been so long since 2014, since Alex died. Since Tim woke up to Brian over him, looking different. Brian is hanging out the window, shooting at a farmer who ran them out his barn with a shotgun. Brian cackled as he got the farmer in his skull.  "WOOOO!!" Brian cackled, punching Tim in the arm a little too hard. "Did you see the way his brains flew everywhere!?" Tim winced, swatting at Brian's pale hand. He doesn't like to look Brian, doesn't like to see those red eyes staring into him, he misses Brian's hazel eyes. He pressed hard on the gas while Brian lit up a cigarette, bringing it up to his bloody lips, wiping his constantly bleeding nose. "Okay! So, let's get McDonny's and then go get fucked up on weed in the back of the truck!" Brian said, stretching. "No, you do not have a choice!" Tim sighed. "Okay…" he grumbled. Brian smirked. "You have any other ideas?" Brian asked. Tim opened his mouth but closed it, sighing. Yeah, he does, a lot of ideas but he can't say a single one, but he's switching between running Brian over and fucking him in the back seat. "No.." Tim growled. Brian nodded. "Good boy." he snickered, clapping Tim on the back. 

Tim shrugged Brian off, sighing. He wishes he was twelve, running around Rosswood right now, being happy and free and with the trees. He snorted humorlessly at the thought, yeah, free, as free as one can be with The Operator breathing down their neck. He sighed as Brian offered him a cigarette. "You know I'm trying to quit.." Tim muttered. Brian grinned, messing with the cigarette softly, he ran his finger through his long, brown, matted hair. "Quit? Since when?" Brian asked. Tim growled, tightening his grip on the wheel. "Since last week…" Tim snapped. Brian laughed, throwing his head back, his bright red eyes filled with amusement. "Oh, Tim, you don't quit. You've been smoking since you were fourteen." Brian said, tracing Tim's jaw with the cig. Tim gritted his teeth, God it smells so fucking good. He swatted Brian's hand away. "Stop." He snapped. Brian shrugged, waving his lit cigarette under Tim's nose. Tim bit on his lip so hard he tasted copper, gripping the wheel tighter. He suddenly swerved the car to the right, causing Brian to yelp, sliding to the side. "Put your damn seatbelt on." Tim snarled. Brian barked out a laugh. "Aww! Timmy! You are sooo mean!" Brian said in mock hurt.  Tim struggled not to back hand Brian. God, he wishes Brian stayed dead on the floor of Benedict Hall. "Just…stop waving the damn cig under my nose." Tim snarled. Brian shrugged, blowing smoke in Tim's face. Tim fanned it away, staring at the road. "I hate you." Tim snapped. Brian grinned, dumb fucking grin. 'I should knock his teeth down his throat.' Tim thought. "Oh, baby, you love me~." Brian said, snickering. Tim is silent for a moment, gripping the wheel tighter. "…I do…" He muttered. Brian pressed a kiss to Tim's jaw, glaring at Tim. "Say it." he whispered. Tim sighed, staring at the road. "…I love you." He said under his breath. Brian snorted, patting Tim on the face. "Louder." he commanded. Tim inhaled deep through his nose, gritting his teeth. "I love you." he said, clearly. Brian nodded. "And no one else." Brian said, leaning back. "Now take a damn cig before you blow a blood vessel."

Tim took the cigarette, letting Brian light it for him. God damn, he wishes Brian stayed dead but the thrill he gets from him always make him take that thought back. Made him second guess everything he thinks. Maybe he's the crazy one, maybe Brian really does love him and wants to keep him safe. Tim always reminds himself though. He put his cigarette out on his wrist, chucking it out the window, speeding up a little, hands tensing around the wheel as red and blue lights started to flash behind him. Brian cackle, cocking his gun, sticking out his blood-stained tongue to lick the barrel of the gun suggestively, glancing at Tim. "If you keep driving nice and fast, we might have a little game with our McDonalds and weed." Brian purred before shooting a cop on a motorcycle. Tim's face flushed and he quickly looked away. "..Damn…." he muttered. "….Why was that hot…."  Brian cackled, hanging out the window, he growled as he got shot directly in the face. He got back in the car, checking the wound before rolling his eyes and hanging back out the car. Tim glanced over nervously. He really wishes Brian stayed dead. Brian glanced at Tim. "Peddle to the metal, Masky." Brian growled. Tim's vision blurred; there it goes. He sighs, letting Masky take control.

When Tim comes back to his body, he is naked, in a random fucking warehouse, under a blanket and Brian is smoking weed, his face healed, not even a scar where he got shot, scrolling on a stolen phone next to him. Tim stares, taking in Brian's lean form, the light sign of scoliosis in Brian's back, the pale, dead look of his skin, the veins visible in his neck…the sweat trailing down his shoulder… "Mornin' sunshine." Brian says snickering. Tim stares before lying back down, staring at the warehouse ceiling. "…Where are we?" Tim rasped, suddenly realizing his throat felt raw, Jesus Christ, how hard did Brian throat fuck poor Masky!? Brian stretches, his blanket falling a bit to show his stomach. "Uuuh…I think somewhere in North Carolina." Brian says shrugging. Tim nodded, curling up into a ball under the worn blanket. "Kay.." Tim grunted. Brian grinned. "So, Tim, you ready for that round two I was saving for Masky?" Brian asked. Tim glared at the floor. "Not really." he grumbled.

[twodogs-twocats]

Because we are being completely normal about III's new hair

"You look like Astarion!" Vessel shouted.

"Oh, no, no," II said, shaking his fingers. "You look like Gojo Satoru."

III rolled his eyes.

"How about you IV?" he asked the guitarist as he spun around in a circle. "Got any lookalikes for me?"

IV tugged at his chin as though in serious contemplation.

"Hulk Hogan?"

III snorted and chucked a pillow at IV. "Twat."

You walked into the living room just as IV got whacked in the face, letting out a muffled grunt.

"Geez guys, what's going o-"

You froze, taking in III's new haircut. You had assumed he would be changing it up soon, given that the next leg of the band's tour was starting. You had tried not to imagine anything specific, tried to temper your expectations. But this...

"What do you think Y/N?" III peered down at you, his blue eyes cautious and searching. You took in his handsome face, his tall figure, and this new hair, so perfectly suited to his edgy, ever-fashionable appearance. You snapped your jaw shut when you realized your mouth was hanging open.

"It looks amazing III!" III let out a sigh. "It's so cool! I think you look very handsome."

He grinned, pulling you suddenly into a big hug. You could barely breath, smothered into his chest. You giggled, trying to pull away to catch your breath, but III held you tight.

"See guys, this is what a supportive friend looks like. Rather than comparing me to Gojo Satoru-"

"OMG you totally look like Gojo!" You yelled, your voice muffled as you still struggled to pull away from him.

"Oh for f- Not you too!"

The boys roared with laughter, the vibration of III's laugh traveling through your chest and landing somewhere in your deep belly. You managed to squeeze one of your arms out of III's embrace, and caught a lock of his hair that fell over his forehead. The hair was rough, shiny. So beautiful.

He stopped laughing, looking down at you tenderly. His eyes lit up at your unexpected touch.

"I really love it III," you said.

"That's all I needed to hear."

[catboygirljoker]

fun writing tip: you can justify making your blorbos as good at sex as you want if you also make it depressing

i will try not to be too graphic or horny and keep it mostly to character study analysis themes core motivations plot conflicts etc type discussion. still, id really prefer that folks under 18 do not interact with me on this post or about this topic in general, thanks!

for obvious reasons this post is gonna have a cut

UNLIKE HIS DIIIIICK [EXTREMELY LOUD AIRHORNS]

. sorry i just feel like hed appreciate that joke. uh anyway

Brief discussions of: BDSM, including sadomasochism; edgeplay; derealization/dysphoria; self-destructive recklessness in a sexual context.

ok. so there's this fictional guy. and i kiiiiiiind of have a crush on him. and i'm a basic bitch, so, like, obviously, when i think about him hornystyle, i want to imagine him being good at sex.

the thing is, "good at sex" is not always a particularly interesting trait to give a character! it can often be an eyerolling power fantasy trait. like "this is my oc Chuck Dongburger he has a ten pound cock and can make a babe cum just by lookin at her" yknow. it's a trait that, handled incorrectly, is more likely to flatten conflict than create it—more likely to make stories more boring than to make them more interesting.

also, "being good at sex" isnt a magical blessing that descends upon someone by chance. it is a quality that stems from a set of experiences and traits. it is a skill that one develops, or fails to develop.

so the question is, how do i justify him being good at sex? how do i make it feel believable and interesting?

the answer is simple! make it depressing! (that is, relate it directly to the character's central themes and conflicts, and therefore make it a natural part of/inclusion in their story)

in canon, xigbar has had multiple bodies, lost his heart multiple times, allowed himself to be a vessel for darkness on multiple occasions. he has endured all of this to carry out the will of his masters. every social role we've ever seen him take has been subservient to someone else, even if it has usually also involved social power over others, too.

here are the sex/relationship headcanons i have that expand on this:

related to: gender/sexuality

bisexual. for starters. obviously. his transness i have Deep Headcanons about, but his bisexuality is just "idk im bi so hes bi hee hee"

luxu is a binary trans man who experienced severe dysphoria in his original body and never felt like that body really belonged to him in the first place. to the best of his ability he has only chosen cis male vessels, including braig. in those cases he feels extreme disconnect from his body but not [very noticeable] gender dysphoria. the only thing connecting him to his cis male bodies is his sexual characteristics. theres this great art piece that has never left my brain that conveys the idea im going for. his face his hair his bones none of those are his, none of thise feel real, none of those feel right. but what does feel right is his dick.

related to: him being Good at Sex™

he is Very Experienced. he's tried a lot of shit and had a lot of bodies and largely had nothing better to do than be a horndog and kill time suckin and fuckin. he is down for just about anything with just about anybody. he knows how bodies work and knows how to deal with the exceptions and roll with awkwardness and uncomfortableness.

he is pretty good at reading people—it's a skill he has had to develop over his lifetime. he is sometimes wrong, but usually right, and reading people, understanding them, lets him feel like he has some kind of control or power over them. this is relevant because this is part of what makes him Good at Sex. he is shockingly responsive and attentive; not completely unselfish as a lover, but he won't blindly exert his will onto the other person and expect them to respond just because he has a big dick or is going faster or harder or whatever.

related to: his backstory as luxu

sex for him is a means of exerting control over the world, proving his own competence and worth to himself and another person, gaining some simulacrum of human connection, distracting himself from his derealization, grounding himself in his body, expressing and claiming his masculinity. all things, i headcanon, he also achieves (or seeks/has sought to achieve) from keyblade mastery.

he views his bodies as disposable, and knowing that he can just jump ship if he totals a body means that he processes pain differently than most people. not in a "all pain makes him horny" way*—it's more that pain doesn't make his self-preservation kick in the same way it does for other people. in bdsm/kink settings he is a masochist [as well as a sadist] and more reckless with edgeplay (when it comes to himself) than he really ought to be.

obviously i have specific personal motivation for wanting to headcanon this (he and his body are both Significantly Older Than Me) but i don't think he's too bothered by an age gap. some people it makes sense to me to imagine that they'd really want to date within their age and maturity range, but i think xigbar's chill as long as the person he's dating is a self-posessed adult. considering how long he's been alive, he's gonna have a significant gap in experience with ANYBODY; there isn't that much of a difference between him dating a 25 year old vs a 45 or 85 year old.

he has told close romantic partners about his Whole Deal before. it has never gone well. ("what do you mean youve been moving into random people's bodies in order to stay alive long enough to bring back a guy who intentionally manipulated his students into killing all of their students via senseless war??") they never understand and he doesn't know why they don't understand (i also headcanon him having severe cognitive dissonance vis a vis the MoM but that's a different post). his instinct is to put up a wall and go "well theyre just naive and stupid and haven't seen what i've seen, theyre too sentimental to understand this". he still keeps trying (if with less frequency) because he is desperate for someone to understand.

*i want to make this crystal clear: i do not headcanon xigbar as being automatically turned on by receiving or causing pain in every context, because he is a boss in a video game franchise where he fights teenagers. i am not comfortable sexualizing those fights!

(i do however think there are contexts where he might indulge in some "battle sadomasochism" when fighting another adult—maybe he makes it weird for them on purpose to fuck with them, maybe they're both into it and it's all foreplay, etc)

related to: him being subservient

youd think that when i talked about him being subservient to others, i was building up to a headcanon about him being a sub. however it feels most correct [and fun] to me to imagine him being a dom-leaning switch vers (doesnt get dysphoria from bottoming because. prostate). social role and personal dynamics dont necessarily correspond to sexual dynamics!

the headcanon i was actually building up to was that he craves affirmation in specific ways from specific people. he is desperate for someone else to give him worth. he wants to do a good job serving an authority he deems worthy of respect. he wants to be useful, he wants to serve a purpose and have a role. he hates feeling like he needs something from someone else, and feels much more comfortable if they need something from him.

he doesn't have a praise kink in a traditional sense, but he does really get his rocks off from being Good At Sex and from his lovers clearly and obviously enjoying themselves. he doesn't wanna be told hes done a good job, he wants to know, to tell from experience that he's blown someone's mind.

furthermore, in romance, he becomes a massive simp. if he likes someone enough to fall for them then they hang the fucking moon for him. he is outside in the rain crying throwing up begging for a sniff. absolutely pathetic. its not a total transformation of personality, i think he'd really hide it and really want to hide it. but i think in most situations it'd be subtle but observable. every joke he makes is directed to them and checked against their reaction; he stands at a middle distance outside of conversation kinda watching them, observing every move, memorizing their gestures and tics and quirks. he feels i love you before the first date but won't say it until five years into the relationship.

related to: i couldnt put it in the other sections and i really only made these section headers so it wasnt just big walls of text oops

he's a low empathy emotionally constipated bitch at the best of times, so he substitutes emotional intimacy with physical intimacy. picking up people at bars or dances or what have you for one night stands, satisfying them thoroughly, and then immediately dropping out of their lives.

he actively avoids romance (and any emotional closeness, including the completely platonic kind). but he hasn't always been this way. i think Dark Road was the most recent in a long long string of experiences where he lost people he was close to. he's tired of hurting people and getting hurt.

. im not gonna get into it because im trying not to be like too too horny in this post but hes So fucking brat tamer coded to me. i think you will understand at least the surface level reasons for this. i guess if i wanted to relate it to Themes i'd say something like "there is a specific romantic and sexual fantasy in being an asshole and even hurting someone and them still wanting you and trusting you and loving you and even enjoying it" but. well we dont need to go there do we

these are just the Depressing / Character-Related / Themes-y headcanons. some of my headcanons are just like "i think this would be funny and/or in character and/or hot" but you see how long this list is anyway. if i started in on all of that then we'd be here forever.

also, these are just headcanons! they're informed by analysis but shaped heavily by what appeals to me personally, what i find hot, what i find compelling about his character. if your headcanons for him differ from mine in any way, i don't think you're Wrong, because we're talking about the sexuality of a guy who comes from a video game franchise where characters are barely allowed to hold hands. this is all just toys and playing

anyway thank you for reading this post lmao its so long

JUST LIKE HIS DIIIIIIIIIIII—

[oldiesstationlover11607]

HI BESTIEEEE

okay okay. idea. joshs sister reader x tyler.

kinda like the sai!josh x tylers sister reader one where theyd been sevretly dating.

same kinda premise but like josh is realy realllyyy not okay with tyler dating his sister, like itd been a big nono since he inteoduced them to each other. but one night they both like bonded over something and the connection kept going. then josh finds out whem he comes into her room quickly for something he left and sees tyler in her bed and he freaks out thinking they slept together. they have to explain that theyd been dating for a while (like lonnngg while) and josh gets super angry.

ik the josh x reader one had a happy ending.. maybe this one ends angstily or not good at all. you can decide. love your work <33

HAVE A GOOD DAY!!🧡🧡

Off Limits - Tyler Joseph x Dun!Reader

Warnings: Panic attacks and angst/argument between Josh and reader

Word Count: 2331

A/N: As soon as I saw this request I started chucking out ideas of how they met, Tyler helping her through anxiety and mental health struggles, them blasting music in the car, basically being perfect for each other. Poor Josh tho...

It was one of those rare quiet nights in LA, where the city’s usual noise was replaced by an almost eerie calm. The kind of stillness that makes you hyper aware of every breath you take, every beat of your heart. I lay in bed, staring at the TV that flickered in the corner of my room, barely paying attention to whatever show was on. My mind was too crowded to focus on anything.

Tyler had been at the studio all day, and I knew he’d be coming home late. Josh had been there, too, working on drum takes for Blurryface—their latest obsession, the album that had consumed their lives. Mine, too. But tonight, the emptiness in the house felt different. Maybe it was because I was too restless, or maybe it was the weight of the secret that I carried every day. The one that Tyler and I carried together.

Two years. Two years of hiding. Two years of stolen moments. Two years of lying to my brother.

My brother had introduced us at a party back when Vessel was starting to gain traction. I still remember that night—Josh had been so excited to show me off to his bandmate, like I was some prized possession. I’d tried to be cool, tried not to let on that I was immediately fascinated by Tyler’s tattoos, his quiet demeanor, the way he seemed so different from the crowd. But I guess I wasn’t as subtle as I thought.

Josh pulled me aside that night, his expression dark. I can still hear his words, sharp and cutting: “Stay away from him. He’s off-limits. You can’t have him, okay? You have to promise me.”

And because I didn’t want to lose my brother, because I didn’t want to make him angry, I promised. I promised I wouldn’t fall for Tyler, that I wouldn’t get involved with him.

But here I was, two years later, breaking that promise every single day.

I pulled the covers up to my chin, trying to shake the feeling of unease that had settled in my chest. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with Tyler—I loved him more than I’d ever thought possible. He was the only person who really understood me, especially during the roughest period of my life. He’d been there for me when everything else fell apart. But the guilt gnawed at me every day. I hated lying to Josh. I hated sneaking around. Most of all, I hated the feeling that this was all going to blow up in our faces one day.

I heard the front door open and close softly, followed by Tyler’s familiar footsteps padding down the hallway. My heart lifted at the sound, the tension in my chest easing slightly. A moment later, he slipped into the room, his presence instantly bringing a sense of calm. Just seeing him made everything feel a little less heavy.

He looked exhausted—worn out from hours of recording, his dark hair tousled from the day. His eyes, though heavy-lidded with fatigue, softened when he saw me. He kicked off his shoes and flopped down on the bed next to me with a sigh.

“Rough day?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper, afraid to disturb the quiet between us.

He let out a deep breath, rolling onto his side to face me. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice low and tired. “I don’t even know what time it is anymore. It’s all blending together.”

I nodded, reaching up to brush a stray curl away from his forehead. “It felt like that during Vessel too. It’ll get easier.”

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the weight of everything we had been hiding seemed to hang between us. But then Tyler leaned in, gently kissing my forehead, lingering there for a second longer than usual. It was soft, comforting—the kind of kiss that didn’t need words. It was enough to make the world feel a little smaller, a little more bearable.

“Being here with you… it’s the only thing that makes sense right now,” he murmured against my skin.

I smiled at that, my heart swelling. “I feel the same.”

Tyler shifted closer, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his chest. I rested my head against him, the steady thump of his heartbeat soothing the chaos in my mind. He kissed the top of my head, his lips brushing through my hair, and I felt myself melt into him, the weight of the day slipping away.

“You’ve got to be tired,” I said softly, my fingers tracing the patterns of his tattoos across his chest.

“I am,” he admitted, his voice a little drowsy now. “But I’m always good when I’m with you.” His hand moved up my back, fingers gently brushing the skin there, and I could feel his love in every movement, in every touch.

“Sometimes I wish we didn’t have to keep hiding like this,” I confessed quietly, not sure where the words were coming from. “I hate lying to Josh. I hate that this is all so complicated.”

Tyler sighed, his thumb stroking soothing circles on my side. “I know. I hate it too. But… I don’t know how else we can do this without hurting him. I just need more time to figure it out.” He kissed the top of my head again, this time lingering a little longer, as if he could press his understanding into me through the warmth of his lips.

I lifted my head slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you… but I don’t want to lose Josh either.”

Tyler’s gaze softened, his eyes filled with that quiet understanding I’d grown to love. “You won’t lose either of us,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “We’ll find a way. We always do.”

He leaned in then, his lips brushing against mine, a soft, tender kiss that made everything else fade into the background. I kissed him back, my hand resting against his cheek as I let myself fall into the moment, into the safety of him.

When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads rested together, our breaths mingling in the quiet of the room. Tyler’s fingers traced down my arm, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words a soft promise between us. “I’ve got you.”

My heart fluttered at his words, the love I felt for him swelling inside me. I kissed him again, this time slower, more deliberate. I wanted him to feel everything I couldn’t always say out loud.

“I love you too,” I whispered against his lips, my voice breaking just a little. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tyler smiled, pressing another soft kiss to my lips before settling back into the bed, pulling me even closer into his chest. His hand slipped under the hem of my shirt, resting gently on the skin of my back, the warmth of his touch grounding me.

“For now, let’s just focus on this,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Right here. Just us.”

I nodded, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Wrapped up in Tyler’s arms, with his heartbeat beneath my ear and his soft breaths lulling me into a sense of safety, it felt like for just a little while, the outside world didn’t exist.

The worry about Josh, the guilt that gnawed at me every day—it all seemed to fade in the warmth of Tyler’s embrace. Here, like this, I could pretend that everything was going to be okay.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew, it was morning. The sunlight filtered weakly through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Tyler was still asleep next to me, his arm draped over my waist. I watched him for a moment, feeling that familiar mix of love and guilt twist inside of me. He looked so peaceful, so unlike the Tyler everyone saw on stage or in the studio. This was a Tyler only I knew—the one who was soft, thoughtful, and quiet in the way he cared for me.

I shifted slightly, trying to disentangle myself without waking him, but before I could, the door burst open with a loud thud.

“Hey, have you seen my—”

Josh’s voice cut through the air, and the moment he laid eyes on us, everything seemed to freeze. My heart dropped into my stomach. Tyler stirred beside me, blinking awake, but I could already feel the tension crackling in the air. This was it. This was the moment I’d been dreading.

Josh stood there in the doorway, his face pale with shock. For a second, it was like he couldn’t even process what he was seeing. But then, his expression twisted into something darker—betrayal, anger, hurt—all at once.

“What the hell is this?” His voice was loud, harsher than I’d ever heard it before.

Tyler sat up slowly, his movements cautious, but I could already see the storm brewing behind Josh’s eyes.

“Josh, wait, it’s not what you—” I started, but my voice faltered.

Josh’s eyes flicked to me, filled with disbelief and fury. “You swore to me! You swore you wouldn’t—” He looked between us, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might break. “How long?”

His voice cracked on those last two words, and I couldn’t find the strength to answer. I felt frozen in place, my heart racing, panic rising in my throat.

Tyler finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “Josh, we’ve been together for a while. We didn’t mean to lie to you—”

“A while?” Josh’s voice was shaking now, disbelief mixed with fury. “How long, Tyler?”

Tyler glanced at me, and I knew we couldn’t hide it anymore. “Two years,” he said quietly.

Josh’s face drained of color. He stared at us like we’d ripped his heart out. “Two years? You’ve been lying to me for two fucking years?” His voice rose, cracking at the edges. “You’re my sister. You’re supposed to have my back! I told you not to—”

He stepped forward, his body tense with anger, and instinctively, I flinched. I didn’t even realize I’d done it until he stopped, his eyes widening. For a split second, the anger on his face shifted to something else. 

“You were supposed to stay away from him,” he said, his voice lower now, but still filled with anger. “You knew what this would do to us. And you still…” He trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.

I wanted to explain, to tell him how much I loved Tyler, how this wasn’t some betrayal. But the words wouldn’t come. All I could feel was the crushing weight of Josh’s anger, the way it radiated off him in waves.

“Josh, it’s not like that,” I finally managed to say, my voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But Tyler—he’s been there for me in ways you wouldn’t understand. I needed him.”

“Needed him?” Josh repeated, his eyes narrowing. “What about me? I’m your brother. I’m supposed to be the one you go to.”

“I–I…” I turned to Tyler before stepping towards Josh, but my legs felt shaky, my chest tightening as the familiar sense of panic started to creep in. I could feel my breath catching, like I couldn’t get enough air. I’d been here before—too many times. I could feel the panic attack coming on, but I didn’t know how to stop it.

Josh’s eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, I saw his anger flicker, replaced by confusion. “What the hell is going on with you?”

“I—” My voice came out strangled, and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, my hands shaking. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. The walls felt like they were closing in.

Tyler was beside me in an instant, his arm around my shoulders, trying to steady me. “Josh, stop. She’s having a panic attack.”

Josh’s face softened with shock, but it was too late. The room was spinning, my heart racing too fast. I couldn’t control it. I could hear Tyler’s voice, calm and steady, trying to guide me through it, but Josh was still standing there, frozen, watching me fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as the tears finally broke free. “I didn’t mean to—”

Tyler’s voice was in my ear, soft and comforting. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

But I wasn’t okay. I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Josh’s face, the anger and hurt I’d caused. The way he looked at me like I was someone he didn’t even recognize anymore.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” I sobbed, trying to get the words out, but they felt empty. “Josh, please…”

“I’m sorry,” Josh said, his voice small now, filled with regret. “I didn’t know—I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

But it didn’t matter anymore. The damage was done. The weight of everything we’d kept hidden, everything we’d tried to protect, had finally come crashing down.

And now, I didn’t know if we could ever put the pieces back together.

Josh left, and the silence he left behind was almost unbearable. Tyler held me, rocking gently as I cried, but even his presence couldn’t fix the shattered pieces of what I’d broken.

After what felt like hours, my sobs finally subsided, leaving me hollow, exhausted.

“He’s going to hate me forever,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.

Tyler kissed the top of my head, his voice soft and steady. “He won’t. He’ll need time, but he won’t hate you.”

But I wasn’t sure I believed him.

We sat there, tangled in each other’s arms, the weight of what had happened settling heavily over us. Tyler held me, and I held onto him, but deep down, I knew that some things couldn’t be fixed. Not easily.

Not this time.

//

REQUESTS OPENhttps://i.pinimg.com/474x/4e/50/a5/4e50a56d55f3ad6b3b18a462822b0b8e.jpg

[shallowseeker]

i think cas's decision about needing to fight raphael alone (with 300k souls but still) and being unwilling to find another path to defeat him is bc hes worried that raphael will explode his friends. like the superman and lois parallel with cas and dean but cas is going darkside So the villains won't attack dean. and then crowley ends up using lisa against dean anyway.

I think Cas's actions are multi-factorial, certainly.

He definitely starts out WANTING to protect his human family, and I think that was genuine, but as he descends into pride and paranoia, he loses sight of protecting them. (A theme echoed by... pretty much every major character: John, Sam, Dean, Mary, Jack...)

Because he's not used to fighting with a weak spot, he's constantly frightened by how "weak" his human family is. ("You're just a man.") They represent a weakness his enemies can exploit, but he eventually becomes so driven by winning at all costs / for the greater good that he winds up putting them in harm's way, like his extremely risky actions in The French Mistake. He starts playing fast and loose with them.

I think the paranoia comes from Raphael killing him back in s4 and overall having to face how duplicitous the angels and Heaven showed themselves to be. His billions of years of service meant nothing to them.

His pride comes from his overconfidence in "God" bringing him back, which amplifies his sense of righteousness. (He said that overtly in The Man Who Would Be King.)

He goes over the cliff when even the amoral Balthazar says in so many words, "you're gonna kill the village to save it," a soldier theme. It's so interesting to me that angels are so often compared to bombs, and Cas is becoming a "live nuke..."

CASTIEL: I mean, the amount of power that it would take to mount a war... CROWLEY: But what if I said I knew how to go nuclear? Purgatory.

Cas is becoming a weapon of mass destruction and moving for pre-emptive war, two very popular themes when this was being written.

BALTHAZAR: Oh, absolutely. But what's the end here exactly? You know, raid Purgatory, snatch up all the souls? CASTIEL: Win the war. BALTHAZAR: And I can only assume that you'd be the vessel, correct? Suck up all those souls into yourself? All that power? CASTIEL: It's the only way. BALTHAZAR: Or too much juice for you, in which case you explode, taking a substantial chunk of the planet along with you. CASTIEL: That won't happen. BALTHAZAR: Sure, sure. Of course. (scoffs) Just - just tell me that it's entirely risk-free. CASTIEL: I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but I need to know. Are you with me or not?

6x21

Interestingly, we'll see two other characters become bombs later in the series. Dean (against Amara)... and Jack (against Chuck).