#set it up imagines

[000marie198]

I don't care how excited it might make some people, I don't like this remake

[devotion-disorder]

be careful what you wish for...the village Killian's from is having a bit of a population crisis right now, and having a nice little human come by could be just what they need...

Oh noooo....I'm just a naive human lost in this big forest with no one waiting for me...would be a shame if some beautiful elves whisked me away and brainwashed me into thinking I'm their pet/breeding machine and only need their "love and devotion". That would be terrible /silly

- 🩵

wdym the beautiful elf men do not, in fact, have my best interests in mind and were planning something nefarious from the start </3 I was just gonna write down some quick thoughts but it kinda got out of hand LOL

Content warning for: implied drugging (hypnotics, aphrodisiacs), dubcon/ noncon touching (nothing explicit though), manipulation, slight obsessive/ yandere themes, general elven condescension?

Imagine that you’ve accidentally wandered too deep into the forest and lost your way, your shoes hardly holding up in the rough terrain, and the last remaining rays of the setting sun are snuffed out by the overgrown foliage…

To make things worse, you walk right into some sort of trap - a stumbling step is all it takes to activate the runic trip switch, and a suffocating cloud of purple gas is the last thing you remember before things fade to dark…

How clumsy of you! Good thing Priest Killian happened to be on his evening walks when he spotted your pitiful form twitching and writhing in the hunting trap he’d set up; carefully he scooped you up and went his way back to the village. Only the most observant would be able to discern that the Priests’ unmoving smile seemed a bit wider than usual.

It was a trap the elves set up for hunting animals, he’d explained. The poison was almost enough to be fatal, had he not been there in time to save you. It’ll also take a bit for all the toxins to be out of your system. No worries though, because Killian offers to take care of you in his quarters until you’re up on your feet again. 

You don’t even remember if you’d managed to give a response, what with lead-heavy limbs and relentless migraine pulsing in your head. Luckily, Killian treated you with utmost care. 3 meals a day (along with the antidote treatment) brought to your bed (well, his bed), and spoon-fed to you because you were too weak to even sit up. He massaged your stiff muscles and brushed your hair. He ran warm baths and washed you – and even then he never opened his eyes – so at least there was some comfort in that.

Under Killian’s care you gradually regain your strength, save for the occasional dizzy spell and fatigue. But he saved your life after all! Feeling indebted to him, you offer to stay longer in the village to help around. While Killian’s expression is ever-unreadable, you can’t help but sense a bit of…amusement from him upon your suggestion. Regardless, he agrees – so long as you agree not to wander too far outside the village, because it’s very dangerous out there, he said.

And of course, he maintained a watchful eye over you, shadowing your tottering form as you went around introducing yourself to the other villagers. How cute.

You worked whatever odd jobs the elves had for you. which isn’t much at all. Mostly just menial tasks, or perhaps relaying messages. Things that they could’ve easily done themselves with their magic, but it’s fun watching an over-enthusiastic little human do it instead, so eager to please. You would say they are…endeared, perhaps. Or maybe they’re just looking out for you, what with your unfinished recovery. Anyhow, the elves are charmed by the newfound presence in the village.

Killian gifts you a new set of clothes, made by the local tailor (you don’t remember visiting a tailor for measurements at any point though, strange). To help you feel more at home, he said. It's pretty, a delicate garment that flutters cool against your skin in the warm summer heat, with an unmistakably elven style of elegance. It is a little short but, well, elves are known for being tall so maybe they're not used to human proportions? The white silk is a bit sheer in places, and you tried to ignore how it clung to the contours of your body when you sweat…

You hadn’t expected elves to be so openly affectionate. Being a long-living race known for their high culture and intelligence, it made for the perception that they were maybe a bit prudish, engrossed in their endless pursuit of finer things to care about lowly desires. But you suppose the elves are as curious of you as you are of them. You got to know some of them quite well, and soon it was routine for them to envelop you in their embrace. They pet your hair and nuzzle into your neck (Killian said something about how common skinship is in elven culture), at times slipping their digits beneath your clothes…sometimes you don't really remember, because the medicine still made you a bit sluggish. But it's ok! Their affectionate nature is a surprise but one you welcome. You think. 

During all of which, your treatment continued. Just a little longer, Killian promised. The side-effects seem to show no sign of waning, if not worsening at times. Sometimes you struggle to recall what has happened and what has not. The elves didn’t seem to mind, gladly cradling your tired body when you are overcome with sudden bounds of weakness. You poor little thing, they cooed, one hand combing through your hair to distract you from their other that wandered along your body.

Some days the medicine leaves you feeling more flushed than usual, and a strange feeling you can’t quite place invades your senses; a deep, frustrating kind of yearning that throbbed in your core. You assume it's the side-effects of advanced elf sorcery/ enchantment in your antidote treatment. It’s a tad embarrassing, but you can’t really do anything about it when the elves (if not the Priest himself) check in on you so frequently. 

Your only reprieve comes when Killian slots himself snug against your smaller form at bedtime. Were you always this close? You’re not sure if you recall, trying desperately to suppress the suggestive thoughts flooding your brain. His cool hands trail over your body, and it feels way too good against your overheating skin, so good that you can’t even think about resisting as his lips come crashing on top of yours, when he slips his arm underneath your waist to push you closer, closer against him.

Stumbling out of Killian’s quarters in the dead of night, confused, and your vision blurred by hot tears, all you can think about is getting away from him, from this godforsaken place. The other elves stepped out of their houses from the commotion. It was as if something in the air shifted. Their friendly, curious pretenses have dropped completely, leaving a ravenous hunger and unyielding need in their place. The way they leer at your body, the disheveled elven outfit failing to provide much cover, makes your hair stand on their ends. The elves close in on you, their concerned voices laced with something unmistakably sinister. You’re trapped.

A gentle hand on your shoulder snaps you out of your stupor.

“Now, now, I’m sure we’re all very excited about our little one here, but everyone will have their turn sooner or later.” Killian explains. He leans close to your ear, whispering in a volume only audible to you. “Look at you getting everyone so riled up already. Aren’t you such a needy little pet?” You’re paralyzed in fear, but his husky voice in your ears is still setting your nerves alight. 

“I’ll give you two choices. Either you let me 'take care of you' back at home,” his arms snaked around your body again, lithe fingers fanning across your thighs. “Or we’ll give everyone a show, and maybe let them get...a preemptive taste, as well. What’ll it be?”

[sableeira]

And Dazai is like: omg how did he figure it out?!?!?!?

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[psychicbby]

imagine being one of dan’s flatmates in his first yr of uni lmfaoo??? like ok here comes this guy and like the first day he shuts himself in his room to play video games. ok cool whatever maybe he’s nervous. most of the time you never see him bc apparently he has an older friend nearby that he’s always with. when he is in the hall he’s burning pasta bc he’s cooking inept and staring down the washer bc he doesn’t understand how to do his own laundry. oh and he makes videos for youtube where he talks to himself (again this is like 2010). so after barely seeing this man the entire term you find out he’s dropped out of uni. ok whatever you never really think about him again until you’re on youtube and you see his face on the homepage. his video has like millions of views and thousands of likes. oh, there’s the friend he was spending all that time with. somehow he’s become some sort of an internet celebrity??? lmfaooooo. what a serve on dan’s part.

[culbi]

happy valentines day!

[w1f1n1ghtm4r3]

got really in the mood to draw a room so i drew one

[kaidatheghostdragon]

De-age fic, but good parents AU

Something de-ages danny, not a clue what exactly, but it does. BUT, danny had already had a good reveal with his parents, so he goes home and they see him de-aged and immediately get to work figuring out how to get him back to normal.

Life goes on as normal, its just that danny's body is about ten years younger. He still has to go to school (with a story that the thing that de-aged danny was aimed at fenton and phantom jumped in to take the hit but it got both of them - or open secret au, take your pick), still has chores, still has to deal with the ghosts that cause problems.

With barely a pause to question 'is that still danny?' everyone continues as normal.

Thing is, there's the typical information firewall we like to invoke to explain why the justice league doesnt know about amity. It blocks ghosts, Phantom, infinite realms, liminality and ecto-contamination, you name it.

What it doesnt block? Baby Hero.

As in, now that Phantom is tiny, everyone and their dog is taking pics and recording phantom to coo all over him on social media. Everyone is enjoying how adorable he is while it lasts. Even the rogues are playing nicer to soak it all up.

The justice league is concerned. Apparently there's some new hero (phantom has been active for over a year by now, minimum) operating in the midwest, and he is literally preschool age. Even the Robins didn't start that young! Who is raising this kid? What are they thinking?!

Its frustratingly hard to get any more intel about phantom (because the firewall is still catching everything else about him), so theyre gonna have to send someone in blind to scope out the situation.

Who do they send? You can decide, but i vote they put together a team: batman (wfa characterization) because he knows how to handle child vigilantes, wonder woman because everyone loves wonder woman and she's a good voice of reason, and zatanna (NOT constantine! Zatanna is more child friendly) to cover magical bases in case this is something like a captain marvel situation.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 1: Dread on Arrival

(Part 2)

[local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti]

Watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron again as an adult is so great because not only do you appreciate the nostalgia and joy of it, the stunning 2D animation mixed with early 3D techonology and well written tight story with a main character that never speaks.

But also you appreciate that the plot relies on horses, despite not being typical talking horses in cartoons, being extremely intelligent to the point that they are aware of their captivity and exploitation. And it involves a hyper intelligent horse dismantling (or, at the very least significantly delaying) American colonialism's expansion into the west.

This horse also very likely killed many colonialists when they were either launched at high speeds from his back, kicked in the head or blown up in a train explosion.

Good for him.

[thatone-highlighter]

I love you albums. I love you songs connected by similar themes. I love you listening to songs in a specific order picked by the artist. I love you reoccurring motifs throughout the same album. I love you album covers. I love you albums with extended editions. I love you songs that reference each other.

[thedevildompolybunch]

Ever just want to curl up into a cage and forget about your worries while a kind and charismatic Demon King watches over you like the treasure hoarding Dragon he is?

[sun-snatcher]

Your take of Círdan being an old man who enjoys pestering people is my absolute fave bc yeah if I was the oldest elf alive I'd be a little shit half the time too for funzies

( credits to the lovely @peregrintook for this beautiful gifset ! )

✵ — WATER-DAMAGED!

summ.  Elrond arrives at Círdan’s workshop. He finds his heart instead. or:  The Herald and the Artisan fall in love. pairing.  elrond peredhel / f!reader  w.count.  1.2k (a lil baby!) a/n.  set in s2e1, friends-to-lovers kinda , fluff galore , mutual pining , Círdan being a thirdwheel (but highkey enjoying it because he’s a little shit like that)

       YOU’RE QUICK TO attempt to bundle Elrond up like a child when he’d arrived. 

Frantic, almost, at the sight of Lindon’s renowned Herald— drenched to the bone, head-to-toe, and dripping river water from his mess of curls, leaving puddles and a wet track wherever he went on the stone of the workshop.

“He’s not here yet,” is what you’d said, when he’d urged you for Master Círdan. The shipwright had gone off to appraise proper timber for the frames of the vessels prepared for Valinor, now that High King Gil-Galad has decreed preparations to set sail. 

“But he should return by nightfall, latest. So will you please sit down, Elr—”

“I cannot,” he overrides, wholly unconvincing through the chatter of his teeth. “You’ll be at risk if I stay.”

You blink. “…From who?”

“I—”

In the distance, a horse whinnies. 

Elrond tenses instantly.

“…Are you— hiding?” you realise, as he springs to his feet to make headway for the sidedoors. “Elrond, wait!”

“Thank you, truly, for your kindness, but I cannot allow the King’s Guard—”

“That was just Silef,” you say incredulously, muscling the door back shut and stubbornly standing in his way. “My mare, remember? From the stables just uphill?” 

A pause. 

He listens with pricked ears: gates of a stable door squeaking; hooves clopping from paddock ground onto pasture grass; the sound of grain and feed being chewed on, after a moment's pass. A notable absence of marching Elven armour and feet stamping its way downhill towards him. 

Just Silef. You’re right. He’d been paranoid. 

“Á quildessë, Elrond,” comes your quiet voice, gentler now as you chase to meet his anxious gaze. “I will make sure no one comes into this workshop, unless it’s Master Círdan himself,” you assure, resting your hands on his forearms. “Just please, sit down. You’re shaking.” 

…He is. He hadn’t even realised. 

It might have been adrenaline, or the bite of the cold from wind and water— but he’s trembling, nonetheless, like a leaf. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, much, much later, when you’d stoked the coals of the workshop hearth to life, and set him upon a wooden seat beside it.

From the open foyer of the atelier, the sea-reflected hues of the setting sun does little to hide the tentative worry in your features. Your voice is as gentle as the lap of tidewater. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I shouldn’t have… barged in.” 

I shouldn’t have involved you in the first place, and put you at risk for treason for harboring a dissenter.

The firelight paints your face in soft, flickering licks of ochre as you tenderly dry off the dampness in his hair, the water trickling down his face. “You were afraid,” you reason generously.

(You don’t tell him that he looks adorably… pitiful. With eyes like that of a kicked puppy, almost. Even worse that he looks half-drowned.)

Elrond doesn’t argue. You’ve always been a kind friend to him. So, so kind. Ever-ready and steadfast to extend an olive branch, impervious to tactlessness, or even offence, from the sheer tenacity of your patience. Elrond has always admired you for it. Elrond has always—

Liked you. Cared. Loved.

(Too much to allow himself to let you get caught in this tangle he’s been forced into.)

He lays a hand over yours, and you pause mid-wipe of a droplet down his lined jaw. His eyes are shut briefly, as if falling into the comfort of your touch— candid indulgence. It makes your heart stutter.

That you’re allowed a quiet moment to admire him this close, so much so you can see the rings of sundering blue in his eyes; or to touch him this affectionately, so much so you could feel the very change of temperature on his skin— 

You think you’ve been blessed with a handsome vision by the Valar themselves.

“You must be curious,” he says, voice a low murmur. His palm swallows yours entirely. His fingers are warm by now. (You shouldn’t notice such details— but you do. You’re an artisan, after all. Or perhaps hopeless romantic is a better suited term?) “But this is beyond even me.”

He slides your hand down, much to your dismay, and uncurls the pouch he’s been clutching onto since he arrived. Now that it’s infront of you, there’s a pull to it you can’t quite understand.

You reach, almost too keenly— 

—but you close his fingers around it instead.

If Elrond had shown any surprise, you didn’t notice. 

“Must be why you’ve sought out Master Círdan,” you muse, looking up at him. “If it’s beyond you, it’s most certainly beyond me, a mere shipwright’s apprentice.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Elrond adds quickly, realising how he must have come across. 

“I know,” you laugh, before he can take off into a tangent. (It’s bright and musical to Elrond’s ears— thinks if he could drown in its sound, he would have done so willingly.) “You forget I know you.”

Not entirely, he doesn’t say. You don’t know how much my heart sings to be near you. How much your presence— or the very thought of you, even— have always brought comfort to me. 

You don’t know how much I’ve been resisting the urge to kiss you since you first sat me down by the fire.

He feels a little smile coming, the kind he couldn’t help, that would light his whole face whenever he cast his gaze on you. “You do, don’t you?” he whispers, voice sinking into something almost— nostalgic, at the sudden unravelling of old memories shared with you throughout the age.

“Well, when it comes to Kingdom politicians…” you shrug teasingly. “As much as I’m allowed to be privy to.”

He barely laughs, too busy looking at you with rapt, reverent attention. It curls a timidness in your heart. “You are allowed all of me. Always.”

Something takes wing in your chest. Butterflies, maybe. Doves taking flight in your ribcage. 

As are you, to me.

At least, that's what you would’ve said, had your ears not caught the distant clop of hooves headed downwind towards the river edge. “Master Círdan is here,” you say instead, diverted. You recognise the huff of his steed anywhere.

You watch Elrond perk up and tune into the approach: the rustle of saddle and stirrups, the shuffle of robes and footsteps. When the doors squeak open and shut, the Kingdom’s shipwright finds the Kingdom’s herald standing in the heart of his own workshop.

“Elrond,” he says, by way of greeting. There’s naught a hint of surprise in his voice— Círdan had felt a call louder than the sea long before he’d arrived, and now he can understand it’s carried in the herald’s charge. “Have you come to seek a certain apprentice of mine?” he asks, regardless.

It’s playful. Knowing.

“He seeks you, Master Círdan,” you answer politely, rounding from the corner where you’d grabbed your spare pelerine cloak to pass to Elrond. “Here, to keep warm.”

“Thank you.”

You bow your head to them both. “I shall be at the lighthouse just across.”

Your fingertips brush against Elrond’s hand as you leave. It tarries; merely a millisecond— enough, however, for Círdan’s keen eyes to catch— before he watches you depart through the sidedoors to give them the privacy they needed. 

Elrond's hand flexes reflexively. Longingly.

A beat passes.

“…Are you sure it is still me you seek?” Círdan muses, brows shot to his hairline.

The tips of Elrond’s ears burn. 

[cowboybeepboop]

Fling

“God damn it Y/N... you're going to be the death of me.”

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem! Reader 

Genre: Smut

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Fucking during a storm

Warnings: Public sex, unprotected sex, p in v, not proofread. 

a/n: I’m currently posting a little bit of everything so if you have any requests for any fandom you can send it my way and I’ll do my best :) Also idk this one is just a random ass idea I had 

You and Tyler have been sneaking around for a couple months, the rest of the team doesn’t know about it. It first started with a drunk hookup but then you couldn’t get him out of your mind. 

It’s nothing too serious, at least not right now. Tyler isn’t exactly sure what you two are yet, but he knows he’s a lot more protective and possessive in you than he’s ever been with any other girl. He doesn’t share you with the guys and tries to subtly mark his territory in public, something you’re entirely obvious to. 

You yawn as you step out of your motel room, nearly crashing into Tyler who’s standing with a coffee in his hand. 

Tyler reaches his arm out stopping you from falling, one hand around your waist and the other holding the coffee. “Woah, watch where you’re going darlin.” He chuckles.

“What are you doing? Creeping outside my room?” You tease, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Tyler chuckles again as he stands you steady, taking a sip of his coffee. “Well I was waiting for you to get your sleepy ass out of there! It’s like 9am. The hell have you been doing in there?”

“Maybe I had company,” you keep the teasing tone, walking down the stairs with Tyler at your heels.

Tyler grabs your wrist stopping you from walking any farther, making you turn to face him, the two of you still on the stairs. “You didn’t…?” He asks looking down at you, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist.

You giggle softly, “Of course not.” You walk down the stairs to the truck greeting Boone and the rest of the team.

The day of chasing starts very eventfully, you’re sat in the passenger side of Tyler’s truck. It’s just the two of you, Boone and Lily in the other vehicles for once.

Throughout the day, Tyler finds himself stealing glances of you in the passenger seat, the thought of anyone else “visiting” you this morning has been on his mind all day, even throughout chases. He’s always had a possessive side but for some reason it’s ten times stronger with you.

You reach over placing your hand on his thigh, your eyes are focused on the storm in front of the vehicle.

Tyler almost flinches slightly to your touch, but then he relaxes, your hand on his thigh is now the only thing he can focus on. He glances down at it before returning his eyes to the road, clearing his throat a little awkwardly before speaking. “You really didn’t… have any visitors this morning did you?” He asks, trying to sound nonchalant but only coming off as a bit jealous.

“Tyler of course not,” you laugh. “Is that why you’ve been so sour today? You know I was just teasing you.”

He sighs, a look of slight relief coming over his face as he realizes you were just teasing him. “I know you were. I just couldn’t help but think you were getting up to something. You were sleeping in awfully late this morning.” He glances over at you, a sly smile appearing on his face.

“Whatever, I was just tired.” You retort. “But you know.. I’ve been thinking,”

He raises his eyebrows as he continues to pay attention to the road, he’s all too familiar with the tone you’re using right now. “Oh, have you? And what have you been thinking about?”

“It’s just, there’s something I wanna try..” you rub soft circles into his thigh.

Tyler can feel the heat from your hand on his thigh radiating through his jeans. He shifts his legs apart slightly before speaking again. 

“What is it? What do you wanna try?” His voice is low as he speaks, sounding as if he already knows where you’re going with this.

“Well, we’ve been chasing for a while, it’s thrilling and all but..” You gulp, cheeks flushed. “I’ve always wanted to have sex during a storm.. outside.”

Tyler almost swerves the car a little as your words register in his head. He wasn’t expecting you to be so blunt. 

“Y-you wanna.. what?” He can feel the heat building in his face, but he manages to keep his voice steady.

“I’ve always thought it would be hot.. to do it outside, you know.” You move your hand further up his thigh.

Tyler lets out a soft groan, he glances out the window, the storm is getting further away as the tornado is dying out, and the sun is setting. 

“You really wanna do it out here? In public?” He asks, knowing he’s not going to be able to deny you anything.

“We could.. do it in a barn or behind a building.” You chew on your bottom lip, eyes focused on his face.

Tyler’s fingers are gripping the steering wheel tightly as your words flood his mind. The way you’re looking at him is not helping either. 

“Y-yeah, yeah a barn would work..” He chokes out, already considering the risks of someone seeing you two together in broad daylight.

“You think?” You perk up, shifting in your seat. “You’d actually.. want that?”

He glances at you, seeing how excited you are to do this in the first place. God when did he become such a pushover for you.

“Yeah. I’d want that. A lot actually.” He smiles devilishly, already scouting out a location in his mind.

You lean over pressing kisses to his neck, your hand sliding up his leg.

Tyler swallows hard, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to try and stop your hand from moving any higher. 

“G-god damn it darlin. I’m driving.” He says, his breath hitching in his throat when your lips press against his neck.

“I know.. I just can’t help myself.” You whisper against his skin.

His hand tightens around your wrist as he looks over at you, taking in your eager form. He’s only human and he’s been craving your touch for so long. “You keep doing that and we ain’t gonna make it to a barn.”

You continue to pepper kisses against his flesh, your hand squeezing his thigh. “You have me so worked up..”

He grits his teeth as your hand continues to rub his thigh, your lips against his skin make it incredibly hard to focus on the road. 

“Jesus darlin.. I think I see a barn up ahead. Hang on.” He swerves off to the side, quickly parking. He told the rest of the team to stay back  while you two do the chasing. He leads you to the barn hand intertwined with yours.

Tyler pulls you through the barn door, shutting and barricading it behind you. He quickly pulls you behind a high stack of hay, his body immediately pressed up against yours. 

“God damn it darlin.. I’ve been craving this all day.” You press your lips to his hungrily, the warring of the storm outside adding to the passion.

Tyler’s hands grip your waist, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, desperate to taste you. He pushes you back against a wall, his body pinning you in place as he continues to kiss you passionately.

He pulls away for a moment taking in your form, your face is flushed and your breath is heavy. He’s never seen anything so beautiful before. “God damn it Y/N... you're going to be the death of me.”

“Ty.. I need you.” You pull your skirt up, leaning back against the wall. Your free hand pulls his body closer, fingers digging into his side.

He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to your legs as you pull up your skirt. His hands move to the front of his jeans, struggling to unbutton them. 

“You have no idea what you're doing to me right now... I've been thinking about you all day.”

You help him, trying to free his erection as fast as you can. “Tyler, enough talking.” You kiss him hungrily, the wind whistling in the distance.

He pushes your hand away, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down just enough to free his aching erection. He pins you up against the wall, his hands moving up your legs, under your skirt. His hips roll against yours, desperate to relieve the pressure he's been feeling all day. 

“God damn it..” He pants, his head falling forward as he tries to focus. He moves his face to your neck, his lips trailing kisses down to your collarbone.

You let out desperate moans, moving your panties to the side so he can slide inside you.

Tyler groans loudly as he pushes himself inside you, his hands now on your hips, pulling you closer to him as he bottoms out.

With a rough growl of desire, Tyler starts to thrust into you, his movements urgent and demanding as the wind outside seems to echo your own passion. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as the barn creaks around you, muffling the sounds of your union. 

Rain begins to pound against the roof, adding to the intensity of the moment as your bodies move together in a rhythm that feels almost primal. You can feel the storm's electricity in the air, mirroring the intensity of your own desires as Tyler claims you, right here in the middle of nature's fury. 

The scent of damp earth and hay fills your nose, mixing with the musky scent of Tyler's body. The storm outside seems to fuel your passion, making every touch, every kiss feel more urgent and necessary than ever before.

With a fiery need burning through him, Tyler's hands slide up your body, gripping the soft flesh of your breasts as he kisses you deeply. His movements become more erratic, driven by the pounding of the rain and the crackle of thunder. 

You arch into his touch, your nails digging into his back as you try to get closer, needing more of him. The barn feels alive around you, the storm's fury matching the tempestuous passion that has overtaken you both. Your breath mingles with his, coming out in short, ragged pants that sync with the increasing tempo of your love making. 

Each thrust is met with a moan, the sound lost in the cacophony of the storm, as Tyler claims you over and over again, marking you as his in this most primitive of ways. The wind howls outside, but it's nothing compared to the intensity of your shared desire as you climb closer to the edge of pleasure, your bodies moving in a dance as old as time itself.

As the storm reaches its crescendo, so does Tyler's passion, his thrusts becoming more powerful and punctuated by the cracks of lightning that pierce the sky. You moan louder, your body responding eagerly to his every move. The sound of rain drumming against the barn roof is the only music to your symphony of desire. 

He kisses you deeply, his teeth grazing your lower lip as he pulls back, leaving you gasping for breath. His eyes are filled with a fierce hunger, the kind that can only be satisfied by the person they're devouring. You can feel yourself tightening around him, the promise of release coiling in your belly like a serpent ready to strike. 

Tyler's hands slide down to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he lifts you off the ground, holding you in place against the wall. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist, the sensation of him filling you completely sending sparks through your body. 

The world outside the barn is a whirlwind of chaos, but in here, all that matters is the two of you, lost in the eye of the storm, your bodies joined in the most intimate of ways. The barn feels like it's shaking with the force of your passion, and you know that you're about to reach the peak of the tempest together.

As the storm reaches its peak, Tyler's movements become more frenzied, his eyes never leaving yours as he feels you tighten around him, the signs of your impending climax written all over your face. 

With a grunt of pure masculine need, he drives into you even harder, pushing you both closer to the precipice. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders, as you feel the beginnings of your orgasm start to build. 

The thunder outside seems to sync with your heartbeat, the lightning flashing through the gaps in the barn's walls illuminating the sweat-drenched, desperate expressions on your faces. The wind howls around you, echoing the sounds of your passionate cries as you both give in to the intensity of the moment. 

Your bodies are slick with sweat, your skin sticking together as you move in unison, the rain outside turning the hay beneath you into a wet, squelching mess that only serves to enhance the carnality of your encounter. And just as a particularly vivid bolt of lightning pierces the sky, casting a stark, white light across the barn, you both shudder in unison, reaching that pinnacle of pleasure and letting it crash over you like a wave, your cries of ecstasy joining with the thunder as you cling to each other, lost in the tempest of your love.

As the thunder rumbles in the aftermath of your shared climax, Tyler's arms tighten around you, his breathing ragged in your ear. He whispers sweet nothings, his words barely audible over the dwindling storm. He gently sets you back on your feet, kissing your forehead tenderly before helping you fix your clothes. 

The barn feels warmer now, despite the chilly rain outside, the air thick with the scent of passion and the earthy aroma of wet hay. You both stand there for a moment, catching your breath, your eyes locked in an intimate gaze that speaks of secrets and promises unspoken. Tyler's hand lingers on your waist, his thumb brushing the soft skin just above your hip. 

The storm outside begins to calm, the rain slowing to a gentle patter, almost as if it's giving you two a moment of peace after the tumultuous chaos. You lean into him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, feeling the warmth of his body against yours.

The world outside seems so far away, and all that matters is the warmth and comfort you find in his embrace as the storm slowly fades away into the night.

[allastoredeer]

Ya'll want to know the funniest shit?

I'm researching the era when Alastor was alive right now to get a better idea of both his character, the life he lived before Hell, and to hash out a backstory for him.

And so, apparently, Alastor lived through the Prohibition (which was basically the United States government illegalizing the manufacture, transportation, and sale of alcohol because they thought it was the cause of a lot of domestic violence and child abandonment).

Alastor canonically died in 1933.

Do you know how long the Prohibition lasted?

From 1920-1933.

ALASTOR LITERALLY DIED THE SAME YEAR ALCOHOL BECAME LEGAL AGAIN. CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW BITTER HE MUST'VE BEEN?

The Prohibition officially ended on December 5, 1933, and now my headcanon is that Alastor died December 6, 1933. Literally the day after he could legally drink all the booze he wanted.

I am learning a LOT about New Orleans and the era Alastor lived through (including the gay community in the city at the time) which has been a lot of fun, and I just wanted to share that tidbit because it is so fucking funny to me.

[tinyfaust]

some recent sketches I’m debating turning digital or transferring to a canvas <3