#sorry if you expected me to be normal about this

[somerandomcockroach]

*sets the sofa, sits down* AND WE RIGHT AWAY START FROM THE PROWL IS AND WILL BE A MURDERED STATEMENT. GOOD AHAHAH Love how much Prowl improved in reading emotions. Orion. You ask Prowl something that he probably memorized from the book and he of course will tell you a book definition. Don't cut it with your merely "It's a massacre" Still wonder at the fact of how much functionists had to f*** up the whole situation for the beasts, who are more than capable of intelligent thinking and just different by their mode or different things that can not even appear in them in the first place, for this whole situation to appear that even the "compromise" seems like a hardly reachable option. I understand if other monsters who are, more bests than mechas. But most of them seem to be, decent, normal, minding their business, just trying to find a fuel/food, yeah, this last is easily solvable.

Yeah, Orion, exactly, let me sit with you

Oh, here we are, Orion snaps at Prowl. Do it, he went in a different direction, the one leading to murder and blood, you know. The problems that are solved hard way are never logical ahah, good luck, Prowl *looks at Orion trying to see a glimpse of emotion from Prowl for at least his own death to crack his logic* I need a minute Orion for god's sake could you like, fake laws and give him your own written full of ponies and funsies?? You were giving him official books with laws, I'm sure a lot of written by Functionalists and you expect to break the logic that was based on it??? OH RATCHET. PROWL CAN DO NOTHING. OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAYOKA YAOKAYAOKAY. OKAY. NO ONE SAID RATCHET??? RATCHET, COULD, JUST, ARRRGHHHHHH BASTARDS ORION AND SHOCKWAVE MAXED THE "LOOK AWAY IN TIME" ABILITY BUT NO ONE TOLD RATCHET? OH YES. GETTING RID OF YOUR OWN SIGHT AND LEAVE. I BET THIS IS NOT A LOGICAL THING TO CONSIDER FOR PROWL EHEHHEHEE OH MY GOD sorry I need to sit because. Yes clean floor is an easy goal. But Prowl. You are. About to get such a big and complicated to reach goal that it is so mindblowing to now look at you and consider other golems. (Eh, sudden thought of someone getting off his artefact) Prowl. on which side you play I don't understand anymore. Are you trying to make a god out of Orion to scare functionalists by actually making good for them or what.

PROWL YOU COULD. YOU COULD COME UP WITH SUCH GREAT PLANS OF MASS MIGRATION OR AT LEAST BETTER HIDINGS FOR THEM. TRICKING ALL THE TROOPS. YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT EVIL, NOT JOIN IT. oh, CONGRATS, your education went to the point where it became wrong! Congrats, Prowl, we are on a changing point ahah! YES IT IS HIS ARMY. HIS ARMY OF POWERFUL, MAGICAL, SAVED AND THANKFUL BEASTS WHO CAN FIGHT FOR SHOCKWAVE, AND I ACTUALLY WISH THAT THEY DID. I WISH THEY DID BEFORE IT WAS TOO LATE. PROWL CAUGHT HIS BEFORE HE EVEN STUMBLED. PROWL MAKES WRONG THINGS BUT. BUT THE FACT THAT HE ACTUALLY COVERS HIM THIS WAY NO MATTER HOW BAD IT IS. I'M SURE ORION IS NOT HAPPY. SHOCKWAVE HAS NO ONE TO COVER HIM WHERE IT COULD KILL HIM. BUT EVERYTHING AROUND HIM IS BUILT WITH GREEN WALLS THAT ARE MUCH STRONGER THAN DENSE WALLS OF BLOOD.

I have several levels of uncomfortable feelings from this part

YOU DID NOT JUST GO TO SHOCKWAVE'S ACADEMY. THEY ARE NOT THE BEASTS YOU CAN TOUCH. EVER. OH MY FRICKING GOD OKAY HERE I CRY FOR REAL. THE SCENE OF HIM. SWORD AND BOOK. PROTECTING WITH EVERYTHING HE HAS. STANDING LIKE A MOUNTAIN AND THE PRIMUS ITSELF

THE COUNCIL WOULDN'T LET HIM DO THIS.... ..... what...... The burns are from?..

............ I just understand that. That I'm sure the way Shockwave "changed" is so many times harder and more powerful because of who he is and what he is capable of... Get Prowl, Orion nd Ratchet at one table and ask them if what they do will find a punishment from Primus.

............

....................... When Orion is in troubled feelings Prowl searches for Shockwave. All goals are tangled, lost and complicated. His goal became something he cannot reach no more since it evolved too hard. Oh my god I wanna see how... how that goal, something he cannot reach no more, just becomes a part of him, like a self forged motor heart of his, just to keep living. Are they... Shockwave's students?... F** THEY ARE I AM CRYING AGAIN SHIT F** YOU KEF I CANNOT NO MORE DON'T JSHDEDC AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OKAY BREATH, COMEONE. LAST WILL. *INTENSIFIES CRYING* F*** YOUUUUUUUUUU THEY. EVERYTHING. HE LEFT EVERYTHING TO ORION. SKIDS???? THUNDERCRACKER?? OH DID ORION NEVER HOLD SHOCKWAVE'S SWORD??? or just became too weak from all the events... OH MY GOD THE SCENE OF KNEELING, THE SCENE OF THE STUDENT OF THEIR PASSED MASTER ON THE VERGE OF CRYING AND ALL THE STUDENTS OF HIS DEAR FRIEND KNEELING BEFORE HIM. I AM DEAD NO ONE TALK TO ME. PROWL LOOK. LOOK WHAT AN ILLOGICAL LONG TERM EFFORT MAKES. IT MAKES LITERALLY INEFFICIENT MIRACLE. THE MIRACLE THAT IS WORTH ALL THE PERCENTAGES. YOU DO NOT KILL AND WORK FOR IT TO BE MORE THAN ONE DAY MERCY I mean Ratchet got a boyfriend this way come on

WEHGEHGEWFHWFEWE HELP. I imagined that Shockwave had a score system or something for Skids to actually say "Best student" as something not of a brag level SHOCKWAVE YOU SMART SWEET ROLL I LOVE YOU. HE KNEW HOW TO DO IT RIGHT. SUCK IT COUNCIL AND COUNCIL DARE YOU TO TRY TO USE IT IN YOUR ADVANTAGE.

PROWL I SWEAR TO ALL THE GODS

(side note can I kiss you for just... rotating every possible side of Prowl? Like, I am just, suddenly understood that just a thing of Prowl assuming that Shockwave could betray Orion is something so fittable for him since he considers everything but just... when you look at it from the side of coming up with it. I wouldn't??)

SHOCKWAVE WHAT DID YOU DO.

They are still not executed. So I am sure it isn't about the saving monsters thing. I think Prowl leads the idea in the right direction. I am confused though at why Shockwave turned into demon at this exact time. What was the trigger. I am leaning closer to the dark magic than betrayal anyway

THE GOD MUST BE WRONG

RIGHT DIRECTION, PROWL.

ARE YOU... did you just... led him straight to mimics plotline....

Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

-----------------

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl “His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

[thesuperiorrobin]

She knew~

pairing: Damian Wayne x Crush!Reader

Warning: Agnsty? Not that much I promise, good ending, maybe, slight swearing? Reader is a bit flirty??? I think there’s a part 2.

There's something about laying in a hospital bed that's so humbling for Damian.

His arm was in a cast and his head was wrapped in bandages. A mission went wrong, that was covered up by a so-called "terrible car accident". Everybody believed it, because why would they believe the truth of Damian taking a bad fall dress up in his Robin uniform? Some of his brothers tease him for what had happened that night, and if he wasn't held back by his position in the hospital he was sure he would have all their heads on a stick by now. His father didn't seem any bit worried about him, that's what Damian thought, after the countless scoldings he's gotten he's sure his father doesn't care.

Damian has spent the last two days in the hospital, on the third day he'll be released. And he can't wait, the smell, the atmosphere the so-called food they serve him-- he can't wait to leave it all behind. But for now, Damian lies on the slightly uncomfortable bed with a book in his good hand. His family hasn't bothered him in a while and he's thankful for that, he's gotten used to soft voices through his room door and soft beeping occasionally that seemed to echo through his hospital room.

There’s a soft knock on the door that catches his attention and he groans—thinking it’s one of his family members coming to visit home again.

Damian prays it’s just a nurse coming to check up on him. He chooses not to answer and after a few seconds the door opens up—the person who steps into his dull white room was not the person he was expecting.

In you go, with a bouquet in your hand dressed in your school uniform.

"Hey" your voice is soft and careful "how are you feeling?"

Damian doesn't answer right away, he pretends to think about his answer before he clears his throat "I feel like I could be doing better at the moment" he places his book down.

"Here, these are for you" you hand him the flowers "I just came to see how you were doing, everybody's worried”

"Only because I'm the son of Bruce Wayne" he murmurs, glaring at you softly—scoffing as he does so.

"That's not true" you frown, He gives you a look "Well Maybe, yeah I guess you're right, but I'm worried Damian. I saw the news and the cars. Damian you could have been killed"

"But I wasn't L/N so there is no need to worry about that anymore"

You let out a sigh as you pull a chair beside him on his bed, It's been a while since you last saw him, two weeks to be precise almost three. Your eyes linger on him for a bit longer. He looks more tired than usual and angry. His hair is messy, with strands of hair spiked up in random directions. Though purple and blue covered his skin from head to toe he still seemed visually breathtaking.

"Did you just come here to just stare at me?" He snaps, and you jump back in your seat, a part of him regrets snapping at you so suddenly, that you clear your throat with a smile.

"Sorry, I'm just used to you being….” You trail off for a moment trying to find the right words to not offend the younger Wayne in his condition. “…so well organized. If I had a penny for every time I've seen you a mess I would have one”

His only response was a hum, and the room was silent between you two. The only sound echoing through the room was the soft voices from outside the room and the beeping of the monitor. “It’s quiet in most of the classes now. Did you know that?”

“How so?”

“Teachers pointed out how quiet the classes are since you’ve gotten stuck in the hospital. We’re known for yapping away in the back of class” You let out a breathy laugh, glancing up at Damian who holds a frown.

“You mean yourself?” Damian raises his brow at you “I normally don’t hold conversations. The teachers were probably talking about you—you do tend to talk a lot”

“Rude” You huff out and a chuckle leaves the injured Wayne's lips, which brings a smile to yours “But I guess you’re right, I don’t have anyone to talk to. You’re usually the only have I have a good laugh within class”

Somehow, your hand finds his. All bandaged and bruised but you don’t mind and Damian says nothing. His green eyes glance down at your face, hoping to meet yours but you keep them focused down at his hand. Despite the thick layer of bandages, he can still feel the warmth of your fingers as they softly glide against his palm.

“I miss complementing your artwork, it’s not the same when I’m looking beside me and see someone else’s artwork”

“You only compliment them when you copy my notes” he hums, “you say it as a thank you when I let you do so”

“Mhm..” you hum “but now, every time I look beside me there’s always a student sleeping with their paper blank”

“Maybe you should start writing your notes….”

“I could…” you trail off, head lifting slightly to meet his eyes. “But what’s the point if I can’t use it as an excuse to talk to you?”

It takes a while for Damian to answer fully. He can feel his skin feel out, and he’s sure you can fill it, too, with a smug smile on your face. He looks away, away from your eyes, as he answers, “True….”

There’s another long silence between you two, a comfortable one and Damian can feel your hand slip away from his—it takes so much in him not to grab ahold of your hand once more. He hears the sudden screech of the chair against the floor, he turns his head—eyes locking in on your form. He wishes you could stay a little longer, your presence is the only thing that doesn’t annoy him as much as others do, and a part of him wants to tell you to stay a bit more but he bites his tongue.

He sees your hand hover over the doorknob, and you seem to hesitate for a moment, he does wish you decided to stay a bit longer. A heavy sigh leaves your lips, turning around to glance back at Damian, who only stares at you confusedly.

"Just because you wear a mask in the middle of the night while playing hero Damian, doesn't mean you're invincible"

huh?

"But anyway ill visit you tomorrow so I can hand you the homework you missed"

you give him one last smile before your figure disapears from his sight. Even after you left, his eyes burn holes at the door for a few more minutes before groaning and pulling at his hair in stress

"She knew?!"

Literally in the middle of my Art history class writing this Because I had nothing better to do.

[witchywithwhiskey]

say yes + andy barber

(for your fantastic sweethearts game!)

🩷♥️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

the demon of your dreams

pairing: soft!dark incubus!andy barber x female reader

summary: you catch the attention of an incubus on the day before valentine's day—and it turns out your fates are more intertwined than either of you expected.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), true mates, dubcon/noncon (in this fic an incubus requires consent for certain things but it technically starts off as noncon), somnophilia, teratophilia/monsterfucking, smut, masturbation (m), fingering (f receiving), finger sucking, piv sex, unprotected sex, creampie, come play, cock warming, choking, breath play, biting/marking, thigh fucking, some overstimulation, dirty talk, praise kink, very brief degradation, pet names (sweet thing/sweet girl), aftercare, referenced marathon sex, happy ending

word count: 5.5k

a/n: thank you, Aspen, for letting me flail at you because i had SO many ideas for this particular character + prompt combination. what i love about Andy is that he can fit into a super fluffy or soft dark or super dark story very easily. (i mean, that's true of a lot of characters, but i feel like i usually lean one way or the other with most characters and with Andy, i'm never quite sure where i want to go.) anyway, this one might require a bit more suspension of disbelief than normal and sorry if the ending is a bit rushed, work was BRUTAL today 🫠 thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy this filthy little fic!! ♡♡

For an incubus like Andy Barber, Valentine’s Day was his favorite day of the year.

There was something particularly decadent about the yearning he sensed among lonely, single women on Valentine’s Day, and he always fed well in the days leading up to the actual holiday. Though the demon had to be careful not to feed too much on any one woman, he never failed to gorge himself on the offerings in the city.

But then he came across you in a coffee shop on the morning before Valentine’s Day, and he hadn’t sensed yearning quite so exquisite as yours in all his many years walking the earth. Watching you from across the shop, he knew you would make an especially delectable meal, his eyes following you closely as he sipped on his Americano. 

You hid your emotions well, Andy noticed, keeping them masked beneath a friendly exterior, a welcoming smile on your pretty face while you chatted with the barista making your drink. To all the world, you looked like anyone else with a charming—if tired—disposition, but to the incubus, you were churning with all the emotions that made you a meal. 

The demon could sense the sadness lurking beneath your smile from the moment you’d stepped into the establishment, and he could practically taste the desperate longing clinging to your soul like a drop of hot chocolate caught on the corner of your lip. 

You wanted, more than anything, to be the object of someone’s lust, to find someone you felt safe enough with that you could be turned into the lustful creature you yearned to be. You wanted someone to lick the chocolate from your lips and sate your desire.

And Andy Barber knew he was the demon for the job. 

In generations past, Andy might’ve used his magic to slip into your dreams, seducing you with images of lust until he received the acquiescence he required to join with you and feed on your soul. But, as the incubus’s years had worn on, he’d found he enjoyed a more physical approach.

There was something so much more satisfying about touching a woman with his fingers, feeling the warmth of her body and breathing in the scent of her skin. He enjoyed the feeling of a woman’s soft curves beneath his palms, groping her and learning what made her gasp gently in her sleep. 

Then, the demon would use her slumberous, disoriented mind and her aching, needy body against her to get what he needed—that permission that allowed him to sink into her body and feed on her soul. 

It was so much more satisfying, and so much more fun, too. 

Of course, that didn’t mean Andy didn’t use his magic to get into your apartment. He unlocked your door with a wave of his fingers, closing and locking it behind him before he masked the footfalls of his shoes as he made his way to your bedroom. 

There, he paused in the doorway and took a moment to look at you, appreciate you while you slept, completely unaware that there was a demon in your room.

A smile curled Andy’s mouth when he discovered that you were far from an elegant sleeper, your body sprawled across your bed beneath the blankets, one leg hiked up while the other curled around a pillow clutched close to your chest. Your face was buried in another pillow, your indelicate snores muffled by its softness. 

And yet…you were cute. Precious even.

Andy felt something fluttery deep in his chest, somewhere in the vicinity of his black heart. Instead of looking too closely at the feeling, he ignored the sensation, chalking it up to the excitement he felt knowing you were going to make for a particularly delicious meal.  

The demon slunk into your room, clinging to the shadows as he moved around to the side of the bed where you lay and tried to gauge whether you were a light sleeper. You didn’t stir when he deliberately stepped on a squeaky floorboard, so he decided to ease closer, his fingertips trailing up your body over the blankets piled on top of you. 

When he pulled them carefully from your slumbering body, a little whimper slipped from your lips, a shiver wracking your shoulders as the cold licked against your skin. Andy quickly used his magic to warm up your room, making it a much more comfortable temperature for your nearly naked form. 

He watched you settle, his eyes roving over the curves of your body. Hungrily, he took in the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips, the way your thin nightshirt had ridden up to tease a glimpse of your perfectly rounded ass. Your thighs were parted, and Andy could just glimpse a hint of your panties, hiding your pretty pussy from sight.

His cock hardened behind his zipper and he nearly groaned at the sinful way your body called to his. Even if the yearning in your soul hadn’t been so enticing, Andy knew he would’ve been drawn to you by the desire you inspired just by existing. 

Once he was sure you were comfortable and had fallen back into a deep slumber, Andy finally allowed himself to touch you. 

His fingers trailed gently over your arms, skimming along your skin before smoothing down your side to your hips and thighs. There, he resisted the urge to dip between your legs just yet, instead learning the curves of your calves and the delicate contours of your ankles. 

All the while, Andy watched your face, monitoring your breathing to make sure you didn’t stir again. 

As he observed you, he noticed you relaxing even further, as if his touch soothed you. He felt another flutter in the proximity of his black heart, and, that time, he couldn’t ignore the way it started beating slightly faster. 

The organ often felt cold and dull in his chest, especially when he was in need of feeding, but it felt like it was coming to life in a way he’d never experienced before, not even after a satisfying meal. And it was all because of the way your body was instinctively relaxing into his touch. 

The demon could almost pretend it was him specifically you were melting for, that even though you hadn’t woken and hadn’t seen his face, he was the only one whose touch could have that effect on your body. 

Andy deliberately ignored the fact that, in all likelihood, you would’ve been soothed by a gentle touch from any man who might share your bed, because that thought inspired a concerning level of rage in him. No, he refused to think of anyone else in your bed but him. You were his.

For the night, at least, he reminded himself, pushing his possessive thoughts to the back of his mind to analyze later. He had much more important things to attend to with your warm body, which would soon be willing, splayed out in front of him like the most tempting meal. 

Finally, Andy allowed his fingers to slip beneath your nightshirt, tugging off your panties and nearly groaning when your hips raised instinctively to allow him to ease them down your thighs. He pulled them off and slipped them into his pocket, thinking nothing of the fact that he’d never taken a souvenir before. 

He was too busy focusing on the feel of your body beneath his fingertips. His hand slipped eagerly between your thighs, and he was surprised to find your soft pussy was already drenched. It felt fated that your body would have such a reaction to him since Andy’s cock was straining painfully against his zipper, aching to sink inside your perfect cunt.

The demon cupped your pussy in his palm, a ferocious possessiveness tearing through his chest as he felt you drip into his hand. You were his. His. His. 

His heart beat harder in his chest, the feeling of yearning in his own black soul so all-consuming, he didn’t have the wherewithal to notice it was completely out of character. 

After all, an incubus like Andy Barber didn’t get attached to his meals. He didn’t feel possessive or territorial over the women he fed on, like a wolf who might tear into anything that threatened to take his most precious lifeline away. 

But the demon could feel himself falling willingly into an obsession with you that wouldn’t be sated from just one night. He just didn’t know it yet.

Acting on instinct more than his typical intention of easing a woman into what he had planned, Andy freed his cock from the confines of his pants, taking himself in his palm while the fingers of his other hand explored your wet, warm pussy.

You were so soft, so hot, and so responsive when Andy sank a finger into your tight hole, a breathy moan slipping from your mouth. The demon felt the newly-familiar beating of his heart in his chest, and he suddenly craved even more of your sounds of pleasure, he wanted them to fill his ears for all eternity. 

Andy stroked his cock dispassionately, needing to take some of the edge off his arousal, but he made sure to squeeze the base tightly to ensure he didn’t cum too soon. All the while, he teased your body open with his deft fingers, preparing you to take his thick length.

When he slipped a second finger into your pussy and saw how easily you took him, he had to bite back a groan. His cock was leaking precum all over his fingers, as if it knew there was a warm hole to push inside and was begging Andy to finally put himself out of his misery by sinking into your sweet, pliant body.

The demon had to force himself to make sure you were ready, Andy carefully pushing a third finger into your pussy, and letting out a restrained growl at the sight of you taking three of his fingers. 

His mouth filled with drool as he watched you take him, the sudden desire to feast on your pussy nearly overwhelming him. He wanted to make you cum on his tongue and mouth for being such a good girl and taking everything he gave you. 

But he told himself that could come later—after he got the answer he needed to give you everything you deserved.

To tide himself over, Andy eased his fingers from your pussy and licked your juices from where they dripped down his hand, savoring the sweet taste of your arousal. You tasted so fucking good, better than anything Andy had ever tasted in his long, long life. 

His groan was so loud in the quiet room that he nearly missed the little whimper of need you let out, your hips shifting like your body was seeking the intrusion that had been filling your tight hole. The sound reached Andy’s ears and his cock jumped in his hand, the amount of blood rushing to his dick nearly making him light-headed.

Finally—finally—Andy joined you in your bed, gently shifting your body into the center of the mattress so he could fit behind you. Your nightshirt was rucked up around our waist, and his cock slipped between your thighs like it was sliding home. The stiff length rubbed against your dripping slit while he pressed flush to your back, his arms gently curling around your body and pulling you into his chest.

A soft, sleepy moan spilled from your mouth and Andy wanted so badly to kiss the sound from your lips, to drink it down and feel it fill his lungs. 

Soon, he told himself. Soon he could kiss the moans from your lips and devour your mouth and ravage every inch of your body until you were well and truly his. But first he needed to get your acquiescence, and he needed to be careful with you until he got it. 

You’d already been laying mostly on your belly, and Andy shifted, covering your body with his own, rocking his hips gently to fuck your soft thighs. His cock dragged against your leaking slit with every smooth thrust, coating himself in your desire and making his heart beat furiously in his chest with the need to push inside your cunt, to claim you, to feed on you until he was more sated than he’d ever felt in his life.

Andy could sense the yearning in your soul deepening as your desire ratcheted up, even while you slept. Your swirling emotions thickened in the air around the bed until the demon felt nearly drunk on you. 

Your yearning, your soul—you yourself—were headier than anything Andy had ever experienced and it took all his self-control not to lose himself and rut you like the beast he was. 

First, he needed your permission. An incubus could only fuck and feed on a willing woman, and Andy needed you to be willing more than he’d needed anything else in his entire life. 

“Give yourself to me, sweet thing,” Andy murmured in your ear, the words coming easily after so many eons as an incubus—though the pet name was new. “Let me sink inside your divine cunt and let me drink on the longing in your heart. Let me feed on the lust in your soul and I’ll reward you with pleasure beyond your imagination.”

The demon could feel you stir beneath him, and his heart thudded painfully in his chest with a desperation he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. But it only pushed him to rock his hips faster, to grip your hip possessively while he fucked between your thighs, dragging the fat length of his cock against every inch of your dripping pussy.

Because of the rules of his kind, Andy needed your permission before he could push inside your body, but he could use every trick at his disposal to tempt you into giving him your acquiescence. An incubus wasn’t above using magic or trickery and though Andy preferred to seduce you with just his touch and his words, he would resort to magic if he needed to. 

But something told him he wouldn’t need to with you. Something told Andy that you were his, and he just needed to ask you sweet enough and you’d grant him the privilege of owning your body and soul for the rest of your natural life.

“Please, my sweet girl,” he rumbled in your ear, letting you hear how badly he wanted you, needed you. “Say yes.”

Thankfully for the demon, you hadn’t roused enough for your mind to wonder why there was a strange man in your bed begging to fuck you. It was clear from your soft, sleepy whimpers that you were still asleep enough to think it was simply a very real-feeling dream. 

Your hand reached back clumsily, your fingers curling around the back of Andy’s neck, using your hold to arch your spine and push your ass deeper into the demon’s lap. A keening sound spilled from your lips, your pussy gushing around the thick cock wedged between your thighs, and you finally gave your answer on a drowsy moan.

“Yes.” 

The word falling from your lips tipped you over the line from sleeping to waking, and you finally realized that what you were feeling wasn’t a dream. It was really happening. There was a man in your bed and, for some reason, you’d given him permission to be there. 

Andy could feel the change in your body, the way your body tensed in fear and confusion. It was natural, of course, and the demon had expected it. But what surprised him were the intricacies of your reaction—the way you still instinctively pulled him closer, your nails digging into the back of his neck, your legs squeezing together and trapping his cock against your pussy with your plush thighs. 

You wanted him, Andy was sure of it, even if your mind was struggling to come to the same conclusion your body had already reached. Oddly, Andy found himself wanting to soothe you, his hand skimming down your side like he was attempting to calm a wild animal.

“Shh, sweet thing, it’s alright, you’re alright,” Andy purred, feeling your muscles slowly relax beneath his hands. 

Every caress of his palm and sweet stroke of his fingers had you softening further, your body surrendering to his soothing touch. Soon, you were even letting your thighs fall open again and Andy rewarded you with a pleased rumbling sound and a kiss brushed to your cheek. 

He shifted his hips back, moving until the tip of his cock was pressed against your tight little hole. That made the muscles of your thighs go taut again, but the demon also heard the way your breath hitched in your throat, like you’d sucked in a gasp of anticipation, not fear. 

Andy gently kneaded your hip, his mouth grazing against the shell of your ear and tickling your skin with his beard. “Let me in, my sweet girl,” he cooed, prodding at your dripping cunt with his leaking tip. “I’ll make you feel so good, pretty thing.”

The soft, whispered pleas and praise from Andy’s lips had you relaxing again, your thighs spreading and your hips lifting in wordless offering. It was too perfect—you were too perfect. The demon couldn’t wait any longer. 

Andy pushed inside your wet heat, letting out a grunt of pleasure when he felt your tightness wrapping around his stiff length. You felt so good, your pussy clinging to his cock and sucking him deeper into the warm depths of your body. He slid home until he was buried to the hilt.

As soon as he was inside you, the world tipped violently on its axis, spinning around the demon in a vicious dizzying swirl that he knew was all in his head. 

It lasted only a second and by the time your bedroom came back into focus, Andy instinctively recognized that his entire universe had realigned, with you—your delicate human body and your fragile beating heart and your precious glowing soul—at the center of it.  

“You’re mine—mine,” Andy growled, his voice preternaturally deep and dark, his arms closing so tightly around your body that he heard the breathe exhale from your lungs and felt your heart beating against your ribcage.

A startled squeak fell from your lips and Andy suddenly realized he was holding you much too tightly, and that he was no doubt scaring you. His grip loosened, his hands moving to comfort you, kneading your soft flesh and groping your curves until you let out a soft, happy sigh. 

“I’ll take such good care of you, sweet thing,” the demon vowed in a husky voice filled with warmth. He nuzzled his face into your cheek, pressing sweet kisses to your jaw and neck, listening to your breathy little giggles at the rasp of his beard. “I only want to make you feel good, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“You…” Your voice was raspy with sleep, giving out on you before you could say what you wanted to say. Andy waited patiently while you swallowed and tried again. “You promise?” 

Andy could feel your pulse fluttering wildly beneath his lips and he smiled into your skin. You were human, so you hadn’t felt what Andy had when your bodies had joined, the fusing of your spirits, and if you needed reassurance with words that he would cherish you and protect you for the rest of your days, then he would happily give it to you.

“Of course, my sweet girl, I swear it.”

The last of the tension that had been lingering in your muscles finally drained out of you, and Andy’s cock pushed another inch deeper, the tip brushing against a spot inside you that had your walls clenching down hard on his length. 

The demon groaned in pleasure, pulling his hips back and sliding into you again, muffling a groan into the crook of your neck when you squeezed him so exquisitely. 

“You feel so good, sweet girl, so perfect,” he murmured into your skin, fucking you in short, rocking thrusts that had you gasping and whimpering softly. “You’re taking me so fucking well, such a good fucking girl.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Andy caught the pleased smile that curled the edges of your mouth at his praise. But then you were turning your face into your pillow and muffling your moans into its softness. 

Andy didn’t like that one bit. He wanted to hear all of your sounds of pleasure—they were his, just like the rest of you—so he wrapped his hand around the front of your throat. Gently enough so he he didn’t hurt you, he lifted your head from the pillow, rumbling a pleased sound in his chest when he could hear every whimper and moan that fell from your lips.

“Good girl, let me hear you—let me hear how good I’m making you feel,” Andy urged, rocking his hips harder into you, his cock spearing deep into your tight cunt with every thrust. 

The tips of his fingers dug a little deeper into the sides of your neck and you moaned even louder, your cunt clutching at the demon’s cock like a vise while the rest of your body melted further into his hold. It was like you’d been waiting for him to come along and take control of you, of your very breathing, and it sent Andy reeling once again.

You were perfect. Perfect. So perfect that even that word didn’t feel like enough. It felt like you’d been made for Andy, and he’d been made for you. A perfect match. A true mate.

“Oh god, wh-who are you?” you asked, your breathy, pleasure-soaked voice pulling Andy back into the moment. 

The demon nearly chuckled at the question. It was a little late for you to be asking such a thing when his cock was buried to the hilt in your cunt and every thrust of his hips pushed you closer and closer to the edge of your release. But he didn’t want you to take offense, so he wracked his lust-drunk brain for an answer, finally settling on something close enough to the truth.

“I’m the demon of your dreams, sweet thing,” he rumbled in your ear, picking up the pace of his thrusts. “The one you conjured with the desperate longing in your soul—the yearning to be fucked, to be taken, to be owned, thoroughly and fully.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t conjure anything—I swear,” you babbled, but Andy’s fingers tightened around the sides of your throat, cutting off your protests. The way he choked you only made your cunt gush and flutter between your thighs, and Andy reveled in the feeling of your slick channel gripping his hard cock.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, sweetheart, I know exactly what your soul yearns for, and I’m more than happy to oblige,” Andy purred, raking his teeth down your cheek before nipping at your jaw. 

He was holding onto your neck too tightly for you to make a sound, but he felt your throat work against his palm and your pussy spasm around his cock at his filthy words. He choked you a little harder and sank his teeth into your shoulder through your nightshirt, going crosseyed and nearly cumming when you clenched down hard around him.

“What your soul yearns for is a good hard fucking,” Andy rasped when he pulled his teeth away from your shoulder, moving back to murmur in your ear. “Now, take it like a good slut and I’ll let you thank me later.”

Andy picked up the pace of his hips, pounding harder into you. The demon fucked you into the mattress while he choked the breath from your lungs, giving you only enough air to remain conscious while he savaged your soft, warm cunt with his brutal cock.

It wasn’t long before he felt you reaching the edge of your release, and he dug his other hand beneath your body, pinning you to the bed with his hips while he fucked you ferociously and rubbed your clit. You were helpless when the demon demanded you give him your pleasure.

“Cum for me, my sweet thing, cum for your demon,” Andy urged.

You shattered apart on a silent scream, your mouth wide open and eyes rolling back into your head while your pleasure consumed you. Your body shook beneath Andy’s larger form, your tight pussy strangling his cock and dragging him over the edge right after you.

Andy buried his face in the curve of your neck, groaning his release loudly into your skin while his hips stuttered and finally pressed flush to your ass. He buried his cock in your pussy and spilled his cum into the depths of your womb, flooding your body with his seed while he fed on your soul. 

Out of habit, he was careful not to take too much, but he could sense that there was no such thing when it came to you. That realization made him groan all over again, another spurt of cum spilling into your cunt while he gorged himself on you until he was sated, your pussy still fluttering with the aftershocks of your release.

For a long moment, the two of you caught your breath together, Andy’s hand having loosened around your neck, though he still held you with your back pinned against his chest. He almost tightened his hold again when he felt your head moving, but you only turned your head to nuzzle your face into his beard and he rumbled a pleased sound in his chest, a smile curving his mouth. 

With a gentleness he’d never known himself to possess, Andy eased his softening cock from your pussy, enjoying the way your combined releases spilled across your thighs. 

He paused, scooping up his cum with his fingers and pushing it back into your hole, making you shudder and whine at the overstimulation. The demon shushed you softly, pressing kisses to your cheek and the edge of your jaw until he was done. 

Then, he rolled onto his back and tugged you with him, tucking you under his arm and propping his head up with the other hand. You still wore your nightshirt, and he was still clad in most of his clothes, his pants only opened enough for his cock, but he wanted to hold you a little bit longer before he forced himself to move from the bed.

You lifted your head and looked at the demon, the two of you hanging in a suspended silence while you regarded each other. 

For the first time since he’d slunk into your bedroom, Andy got a good look at your face, and his heart thumped heavily in his chest at the beauty of you. The slope of your nose, the curve of your mouth, and the intelligence in your eyes—it was all gorgeous to the demon.

As he stared at you, you looked at him in return, your eyes darting over his face while you took in his features—his crystal blue eyes and straight nose and the dark beard framing his soft mouth. Your expression was unreadable, but then a small smile curved the edges of your soft mouth, and your eyes warmed. You didn’t seem to hate what you saw, at least. 

“I’ll answer all your questions,” Andy promised, his gaze falling to your lips, the desire to kiss you gripping him and refusing to let go. “But first…” He trailed off, dragging you up his body while his hand cradled your head, moving you so he could slant his mouth to yours. 

The incubus kissed you gently at first, with just a brush of his lips, as if he was asking for your permission all over again. When you sighed happily and melted into him, your fingers curling in the short hair at the nape of his neck, he knew you were giving yourself to him willingly, gladly, wholly. 

Andy kissed you harder then, tracing his tongue along the seam of your lips and seeking entrance that you eagerly gave him. He slid into your mouth, groaning at your sweet taste, and explored you thoroughly while you clung to him and kissed him back.

When your hips began to rock greedily against Andy’s thigh, your slick pussy leaving a wet spot on his pants, he finally pulled away and gave you a wolfish grin.

“Does my sweet girl need her demon’s cock again?” he teased playfully before nipping at your lip and drinking down your moan while he soothed it with his tongue. 

“Yes, please,” you murmured sweetly, making Andy chuckle. 

But the demon wasn’t about to let your plea go unanswered. He rolled you onto your back and took the opportunity to kick his pants off his legs before sliding home with one thrust. The slick of your combined releases made it easy and you both groaned as he filled you up.

“Good,” he growled, clutching you tight beneath his body and encouraging your arms and legs to wrap around his broad, muscular form. “Because I need to be buried in your cunt for the rest of my fucking life.” His voice was a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine and made you clutch him tighter, meeting every thrust with your hips while he fucked you into the mattress.

It wasn’t until the sky began to lighten from a midnight blue to a softer shade of sapphire, the sun dawning on the morning of Valentine’s Day, that the two of you were finally sated enough for you to ask all the questions that had been rattling around in your head since you woke up to the demon in your bed.

Andy answered you with the truth—every bit of it—not even questioning that he didn’t have it in him to lie to you. He told you about what he was and how he’d been drawn to you from the moment he’d sensed you. 

You were skeptical at first, of course, but when he flashed you a look at his true eyes—dark pools of inky blackness like the pits of hell—and showed you a glimpse of his tail, he could tell that you started to believe him. It surprised him how much he wanted you to believe him, so it was a relief when you finally did.

Then, Andy told you about the stories of an incubus’s true mate. He hadn’t believed them until he’d met you, he explained, but a true mate was the one person in all the world that an incubus could feed on and never harm. They were literally made to be together.

Gently, as if worrying that it would be the part you couldn’t accept, he told you that he believed you were his—his true mate, the one person meant for him.

It took you a long moment to process that information, but once you did, you laughed wildly, happily, and pulled him in for a kiss. You were smiling too much to deepen it, so you settled for brushing butterfly kisses all over Andy’s face, making him smile, then grin, then laugh along with you. 

“Y’know, I would find out my soulmate is a demon on Valentine’s Day,” you said, giggling and falling back down against Andy’s chest. You curled into his side, pressing your face into his sternum and brushing another kiss over where his heart was beating in his chest.

Your comment reminded Andy of what day it was and he squeezed you in his arms. “Be my valentine?” he asked playfully, pressing a smile into the crown of your head. But he couldn’t wait for your answer, urging you, “Say yes, sweet girl, say yes.” 

“Yes, of course, my sweet demon,” you purred, throwing a leg over Andy’s body and sliding on top of him. 

Andy’s cock, which he’d thought for sure needed at least a few more hours of rest after the long night of fucking, valiantly stirred to life between your thighs. You reached between your bodies, slipping his half-hard length into your warm pussy and settling down on his chest, breathing a soft sigh of contentment. 

The two of you fell asleep like that, your soft, perfect body keeping Andy’s cock warm while you held each other close. As he drifted off, the demon felt a sense of peace and satisfaction that he’d never even dreamed he could achieve in his long, long life of walking the earth.

From that day on, Andy’s life was never the same. It was happier and more fulfilling and he never wanted for anything, not while you were in his life—and in his arms and in his bed. Together, you celebrated holidays and birthdays and life achievements as you grew together, but one day was still the most special.

For an incubus like Andy Barber, Valentine’s Day was his favorite day of the year. Not because of all the lonely, single women in the world, but because it was the day he’d found his true mate, the love of his life—it was the day he’d found you.

[ink-stainedkiss]

Nerd Gojo Headcannons

A/N: I’m so sorry for my lack of activeness. please forgive me🙏🙏 I’ve had so much stuff with school and yesterday was my birthday so my schedule has been packed. I wanted to give you guys something small for now so my accounts not collecting dust, but i promise more will be coming in days prior!! Love you all!💕

Nerd!Gojo who is still completely shocked you chose him out of everyone on campus. Gojo was a known geek, someone who got excited about the latest comic and his grades never fell below an A+. Well lucky for him, you found the fact he was so nerdy to be extremely cute.

Nerd!Gojo who loves planning adorable dates with you, but it’s never commonplace. He will set up picnics right in front of a beautiful lake, taking you to a pottery class and giggling at how dumb your ‘masterpieces’ look, or simply creating a candlelight dinner in your apartment.

Nerd!Gojo who adores you and he makes it extremely known. For someone so shy when the two of you first met, he definitely has warmed up to you. Before, he was too scared to even stand next to you because he was afraid he would slip up and embarrass himself, but now he never leaves your side. You can’t exit the same room with him without giving him a long kiss goodbye, even if you're just grabbing ice from the hallway. Hugs, kisses, handholding, cuddles, you name it, Gojo loves it.

Nerd!Gojo who isn’t the best at taking care of himself. He often stays up late to finish homework or a project that could easily be done the next day, but unfortunately he’s a try hard and will force himself to stay awake until it’s done. Before you, he relied on energy drinks to keep him up and when all of the work was done, he would sleep the weekend away, barely leaving his dorm. Even now, you have to scold him for his unhealthy studying habits.

You were peacefully chatting with your friends, going on about the tests and assignments being piled on top of each other. As you spoke, your group’s eyes shift behind you, but you couldn’t turn before two lanky arms were sliding around your waist. Soft lips gently landed on your exposed neck and in your peripheral vision you saw a puff of white hair. Of course it was Gojo. Your friends did not hold back their cheeky looks, some of them turning and looking off in another direction while muffaling their giggles.

Blush rose to your cheeks instantly and you heard your boyfriend speak up,”Hi Baby.” He’s obviously tired, his voice groggier than normal, but he still has the energy to cover you in his love. You shift your body to face him, cupping his cheek, and you get a good look at his face. Like you expected, he looks on the brink of passing out. His usually bright eyes were a bit dimmer and there were vague shadows coating his under eyes. His own hand reached up and held the one of his face, turning his head to plant tiny kisses to your palm.

“Have you been sleeping?” Gojo sees the disappointed frown on your face, because you already knew the answer. He sighed, leaning into your touch,”Maybe.” The short response was enough to finalize your question. It didn’t help that he had shut his eyes and was practically sleeping against your palm. Turning to your friends, you excused yourself, dragging a half-asleep Gojo on your side the entire time you left.

Nerd!Gojo who knows he should listen to your stern lectures on why he needs to stop doing all nighters, but even if he felt like shit after, without fail the two of you would cuddle on his bed and take a long cat nap. You were never as tired as Gojo, so most of the time you would be awake, reading, or scrolling on your phone, while Gojo slept soundly on your lap.

Nerd!Gojo who may or may not do your homework if you leave it out. He tells himself he shouldn’t, since you tell him it’s not his responsibility to do your own work, but he can’t help it. You’re his girlfriend after all and it would be mean of Gojo to not fill out the first half of the paper and maybe the back half if he has time. (He does it regardless)

Nerd!Gojo who nearly cries when you get him a figurine of his favorite superhero character. He constantly gushes about how cool they are and doesn’t notice how you aren’t even listening to the topic, just focusing on how his eyes light up with pure joy. You have adapted to Gojo’s interest, never denying a trip to the movies with him to see a new action film he has been freaking out about. Holidays are like Gojo’s heaven because you always end up getting him another item for his very large collection. Each time you are smothered in kisses then dragged to his room to watch him rearrange his overcrowded stock.

Nerd!Gojo who is so thankful for you and some nights, wakes up to watch you sleep calmly. His fingers rake over your face and images of your future together flash in his head.

[writingangst]

Friendly Fire

Summary: The aftermath of Simon Riley's paranoia has left the reader with an inner battle of holding onto her anger or making room for forgiveness.

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of violence and torture, angst, cursing, hurt/no comfort.

Words: 1.3K

Part One

I wasn't planning on posting on this account except for that one off, but since a lot of people liked it, I'm down to give you guys more angst. So, enjoy. (Also, if you want to request anything be sure to message me.)

Whispers and lingering stares were a part of your day to day since you and Ghost got back from the extraction mission. The barracks were filled with theories, the team making assumptions to make sense of the bruising you wore like a collar around your neck. As if you were some damn dog, beaten into submission. You hated every second of being on display and serving as a symbol of what they thought had to have been insubordination.

She must’ve mouthed off to the Lieutenant.

Poor girl was probably put in her place. 

Because Simon Ghost Riley couldn’t do any wrong. Surely the woman must’ve misbehaved to deserve being put in a life-or-death situation by someone she trusted. You couldn’t calm the anger that stubbornly sat in your chest. You wanted to scream. You wanted him in the same position you were in. You wanted the fucking bruising to go away so everyone could stop talking about it, reducing you into a fucking victim.

You were a Goddamn soldier.

Ghost on the other hand had been quiet. Even more so than usual. You would catch his eyes roaming the patches of dark purple and blue he painted on your skin from time to time, turning away when he noticed you looking back at him, your expression stoic. You could sense the tension. The regret. The nasty gut feeling assumed to be guilt swallowing him whole. 

He’d never felt that way before.

It wasn’t a part of your lives. You got jobs done that would make any normal person weep for years. Trauma so consuming, veteran suicide rates were in increase and violent crimes committed by them going up as well. You had no room for guilt or regret. You were machines. It was in the job description, under the fine print. There wasn’t an option to dwell on things, it was either keep pushing or people could die in your line of work. 

Yet Ghost was stuck on that feeling.

And it was becoming harder to ignore. You saw the way his fingers twitched when you flinched from any sudden movement. The quietness that overtook the space when you stepped into any room he was in, like everything suddenly became too heavy to bear. You wanted to laugh from the bitterness of it all. This was the same man that had threatened your life. And for once, it seemed like the monster that made him who he was couldn’t hide behind the skull mask.

You couldn't decide which one was worse though. The silence or the moments you caught him struggling with himself and what he did. But the worst part. The thing that kept you up at night, tossing and turning in a bed that felt more like a grave… Was that you had started feeling sorry for him. For the way his dark eyes would catch yours when you least expected it, as if they were silently begging for forgiveness you didn’t know if you could offer him.

Maybe that was the worst part. There being a chance to be able to forgive, but never forget. Missing his touch and dreading it all the same. The way he tainted something both of you needed. Severing a conection both physical and emotional. Needing him and hating him. It was the same fight within yourself and it made you angry, until you began yearning again. Your own personal hell, a cage he viciously hand crafted to fit you.

I hate you, Ghost. 

It was a mantra. Maybe soon you would start to believe it.

But as night fell on the fourth night, the repetition wouldn’t preserve your sanity. The common area was eerily quiet, devoid of any operative in your wing. The faint hum of the overhead light was the only sound as you sat on the worn couch, eyes scanning the documents in your hands. They were sending you out again. A covert operation. Then, the bitter taste of reality hit you again as you saw his name typed out on the call sheet under personnel.

I hate you.

“I’m sorry.”

You jumped instictivley at the sound of his voice, your head jerking in his direction, slightly to your left, standing within the door frame. His words were clumsy, raw, but there was hesitation in his tone. Like he was scared. Scared of what he did, scared of what you thought of him now. The silence between you both stretched like a taut wire, brittle and poised to snap.

For a fleeting moment, something in your chest softened—a crack in the icy wall you’d built between the both of you. But it was brief. So brief. The softness evaporated almost as quickly as it came, replaced by the old familiar coil of tension in your gut. You straightened, pulling your walls back up.

“So, he speaks.”

“I didn’t want to push you,” he said, his gruff accent thick with something unspoken—uncertainty, regret? You weren’t sure anymore.

You laughed bitterly. “But choking me out is fine.”

Your words were sharp and unforgiving. A hard accusation that was meant to hit him in the chest. The tension was unbearable now, like the moment might snap any second. He didn’t move though, didn’t back down. But you saw it—his jaw tightening, his fists clenching at his sides, the way his eyes flickered to the ground. The frustration was there, the guilt too, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. He was struggling, you could see it.

He hesitated. “I fucked up.”

Raw. Unpolished.

But you weren’t so forgiving.

“You think?” You spat back, your voice filled with sarcasm, every word laced with the bitterness you couldn’t shake.

He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to excuse any of it. I was a paranoid motherfucker and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

His words landed heavier than you expected. You almost wanted to let you anger slip. To take the edge off, to relax into the moment, maybe even believe him. But you couldn’t. You’d betrayed yourself by awarding him with your forgiveness. Your nostrils flared at the turmoil you felt in your chest, your fingers digging into the documents in your hands with a fierce grip as you attempted to counterfocus the tightness.

“I don’t know what to do to make this right,” he confessed, knowing his words weren’t right. And they never could be. They didn’t carry the weight of what he had done. “I rarely ever apologize. If ever.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “So that should make me feel special?”

“Hardly,” he stated, wincing at your sarcasm, the impact of your words sinking into him like a punch. “I’ve made an even bigger mess of this. I can’t fix it. I know I can’t. I just—” 

—miss you.

You could almost hear it in the rawness of his voice, in the way he faltered. The silence was heavier with the words he didn’t dare utter hanging there. And that just made the anger swell in your chest. The more he held back, the more it stung, the more it fed your fury. The air felt thick around you. Heavy. Your breath shallow, your chest tight, and every beat of your pulse was a reminder of everything he had done. Everything he hadn’t done.

“Yeah?” You locked your gaze with him, the intensity in your eyes unflinching, your voice colder than you thought you could manage. It was steady, but laced with an undeniable edge. “Well, I fucking hate you, Ghost.”

The words slipped out, more venomous than you intended, but they felt good to say. They felt earned. You could see it in his eyes—the flicker of hurt, the way his shoulders slumped a fraction, as though your words physically struck him. But he didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to defend himself. He couldn’t. Not anymore.

The silence stretched, thick and unbearable, but it was better than what had come before. At least now there was nothing left to say.

Nothing left to break.

[inu1gf]

you bloom inside my heart

now playing: blooming day by exo-cbx

who: isagi yoichi

what: childhood friends to lovers, slight ooc (tag just in case but i know deep down in my heart that isagi is a yearning man when it comes to love)

the seed of you took root in isagi’s heart when you were both 4 years old.

meeting the new next door neighbors was something his mom wanted for everyone in the household to do. with him in between his parents, holding a tray of cookies, they waited patiently for someone to open the door.

“i’m coming! just a second!” a women’s muffled voice rang through the door slowly getting closer.

“hello! welcome to the neighborhood! we’re the isagi’s, your nextdoor neighbors. we wanted to come by and say hi and get acquainted. this is our child yoichi, if you do have a kid around their age we would love for them to be friends if that is alright with you?” isagi’s mom seemed to be beaming at the idea of having new neighbors and friends.

“hi we’re the [last name] and yes we do have a kid. let me call them over. [reader]! get over here! there’s someone who wants to meet you!” echoing through the home, the cute sound of pitter pattering foot steps seemed to get closer and closer, stopping behind the woman at the door.

peeking out from behind her legs, a small child with wide doe eyes that didn’t seem to stray away from isagi’s.

“isagi don’t you have something to say?” a little nudge at the boys shoulder, he moves forward and stretches out the plate full of cookies.

“welcome to the neighborhood. do you wanna be friends?” pink cheeks and wobbly hands, he wouldn’t have expected the next words to come out of your mouth.

“you have a bean sprout on your head.” isagi didn’t make the first move just to be insulted. he couldn’t help but lower the plate and loudly cry in front of the new neighbors. with snot and tears running down his face, he didn’t hear the scolding your mom gave you, nor did he hear reassurances from his parents. both not being able to take the situation seriously because it was one of isagi’s most prominent features.

and all that could be heard next was your cries and apologies. “m’ sorry. i didn’t mean it in a mean way. i promise. please forgive meeee.” oh if it weren’t for the eardrum shattering wailing from both youngsters, it would’ve made such a cute sight of a new friendship blooming.

but it didn’t stop the the small emotions that started to bud in yoichi’s heart.

from the seed started to sprout at the age of 8.

elementary was not for the weak. it took guts to survive everything everyday. sure isagi knew that at the end of the day, he got to walk home with you right next to him, but that didn’t stop the craziness around him to influence you and your whims. no matter how crazy they were or how ridiculous they sounded.

but nothing could have prepared him for your next thought process at hand.

with talks of kissing and hand holding going around, it didn’t bother the bean sprout at all. not when soccer was all he could think about… and you but that wasn’t anything special when you were always attached at the hip.

“do you ever want to know what kissing feels like?” the soccer ball that was in isagi’s hold was now on the ground rolling away for him.

“no, why would i want to know about that? that’s something you do when you’re older?” he sputters out as if the thought of kissing anyone disturbs him. if only you knew the red tinge that started to creep onto the boy's cheeks, just the thought of your face being so close to his face had his heart beating wildly faster than it normally does.

“every girl in class is kissing boys to see what it feels like. maybe i’ll try it out and see what they’re talking about. do you think if i ask who they kissed and ask them if they could kiss me, they would do it? shouldn’t be too much to ask for, right?” oh it was as if pins and needles were being used to squeeze poor isagi’s heart. he didn’t know why the thought of your face being close to another boys face made his heart squeeze out in pain, but if he could do anything to stop that from happening, then he’ll do it.

“i’ll do it!” red faced full of determination. he wasn’t going to let anyone else take this moment away from him.

“but you just sa-“ now you were confused. first he said he doesn’t care to know but now he does?

“i said i’ll kiss you!” why did you have to keep asking questions?! he thought this is what you wanted?!

even if it meant awkwardly placing his lips on yours….

that had you both reeling back because he accidentally put too much force that had you both knocking teeth together.

the full flurry of questions being launched at you both by your parents wasn’t something either of you wanted to happen right now (isagi’s embarrassment intensifying because he didn’t want to explain what happened and your nonchalant behavior toward this was not letting you admit that even though the kiss hurt it meant more to you that isagi was willing to do it for you cause your stomach to flutter).

leaves and petals didn’t start to grow out until the age of 16.

man was the second year of high school a whirlwind of emotions for isagi.

sure now he knew more about his feelings for you better than what he was questioning after almost making both your lips bleed after that failed first kiss (it still counted for him), but it didn’t make him feel any more secure when he heard all the locker room talk about girls. boys left and right asking him if he could ask you to meet them after school so that they could ask you out. all isagi did was nod, but he never did tell you.

not that you needed to know anyways. or when he noticed admirers slipping letters into your locker, he’d take them out and keep them in his bag. you didn’t need them and he especially didn’t need more competition. all you had to do was enjoy school life without any of these stupid guys trying to take his place (not like they had a chance when all you could think about was the new random last minute plans that isagi made for y’all to visit the burger joint after school).

that didn’t stop the whispers of rumors to linger around.

rumors of you being heartless.

rumors of you not caring for others feelings.

rumors of you leaving people standing alone.

sure they knew that you didn’t have to accept their feelings, but the least you could do was show up to reject them…

until they see the scene in front of them.

walking down the halls to your class, you didn’t pay any mind to the whispers and such that was going around, all you were focused on was giving isagi the attention and encouragement he needed for his most anticipated match this season. the prefectural finals.

ichinan vs matsukaze

you’ve told him time and time again. no matter what happens he’ll always be a winner in your heart, but you know that’s not what he needed right now. he just needed to know that you believed in him and that you know he can win.

and that’s what you did, ignoring the stares and giving your whole attention to him. nothing else mattered more.

and everyone could see that. that’s why no one bothered to confront you when they saw the scene of a blushing boy and his over enthusiastic friend throwing compliment after compliment at him. if they didn’t know any better, they’d think you two were already dating, just trying to keep it private.

and after the long awaited match and the devastating defeat, it was the walk back home that showed just how much he cared for you.

the silence was deafening, and you knew nothing you could say would make him feel better.

but to him, he couldn’t help but feel like he let you down. you believed in him but he couldn’t believe in himself to take the last shot on his own.

the only thing that brought you both out of this silence was the sound of him yelling out in agony, and boy was it soul shattering. here was the boy that worked hard no matter what, only to be stopped by his own what-ifs and uncertainties.

“i wanted to win…” all you could do was pat his back to soothe his pain.

it only lasted for a couple of hours until he got back home.

with the opportunity of a lifetime prompted itself, in the form of a letter, ensuring him that there’s more chances in soccer for him out there.

man he couldn’t wait to tell you about this (so much so that he ran to your house next door to share the news).

the flower of his love bloomed not too long after at the age of 16.

being invited to watch isagi play against the u-20 team with his parents warmed your heart.

you haven’t been able to keep in contact with him during his time in the blue lock program, but that didn’t stop you from continuing to support him with all your might from the outside.

seeing him zoom across the field, make plays you never got to fully see when he would play with his old team, and the all in all happiness that showed itself when he made the winning goal. you couldn’t have been more proud. watching him be interviewed and proclaiming to the world that he will bring home the u-20 world cup.

and it seemed that feelings were still running high because once he saw you he couldn’t help but run to you and press a deep heart filled kiss flat on your lips. with the whole world to see but not giving it a second to stop him from giving him a retry at a first kiss with you.

it meant a lot more when he could feel you pull him closer by his jersey.

letting everyone know just who you belonged to this whole time.

[waitsobs]

THE LONG GAME ⋆˚࿔ chapter thirty-nine

When popular actress y/n l/n's private account gets exposed, it is revealed that she has a crush on one of the girls from the girl group katseye. y//n tries to de-escalate the situation, but makes it worse, and loses her chance with the girl. The only way she think of winning the girl over is by playing the long game. 

EVIL MANAGER

When y/n stepped into her manager’s office, she expected a standard meeting—nothing out of the ordinary. But as soon as the words left his mouth, she realized she was in for something  worse. 

“You want me to what?” y/n practically shouted, her eyes going wide in disbelief.  Her mouth was hanging open, not even trying to hide how stunned she was.

“Look, y/n, it’ll only be for three months. This could actually help you in the long run,” her manager explained, leaning forward slightly, his tone trying to sound reasonable.

“Mr. Murphy, I’m sorry, but… you want me to block Megan and stop posting for three months?” Her voice was high-pitched, almost disbelieving, like she was hearing a bad joke. “That’s crazy,” she added, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, y/n, but every time your name comes up, it’s surrounded by negativity, and that’s because of Megan. It’s affecting your image. Not being seen with her for a while and going MIA is your best option.”

y/n’s breath hitched, and her eyes darted toward the floor for a moment as she processed what she was hearing. Her jaw tightened, a deep exhale leaving her lips. It always felt like every time she was finally on the verge of something good, something had to mess it all up.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath. But then her manager’s next words hit her like a ton of bricks. 

“And to make sure you follow through, I want to watch you block her,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers, as if to make sure she understood the seriousness of it.

y/n blinked, stunned. “Are you serious?” Her mouth parted slightly, disbelief and frustration clouding her face.

“Yes, I’m serious, y/n. And you need to be serious, too. Take your phone out and block her,” her manager said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

y/n stared at him for a while. She couldn’t believe she was being asked to do this, especially in front of him. she slowly pulled her phone out of her pocket. Her fingers hovered over the screen, but for a moment, she hesitated. 

With a sigh, she opened Twitter. Her fingers hovered over the screen, moving slowly, like she didn’t want to do it. Each click felt heavier than the last, her stomach tightening with every second she spent on the app. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

y/n’s fingers hesitated over Megan’s account, her heart racing in her chest. She stared at the screen, willing herself to do it. Her thumb trembled slightly, for a moment.

With a sharp breath, y/n slammed her thumb down on the block button, almost wincing as she did it. She was about to shove her phone back into her pocket when a voice stopped her in her tracks.

“And on messages, too,” he added casually, as if this was all perfectly normal. He didn’t even flinch when y/n’s eyes shot back up to him, her expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. 

y/n groaned loudly, rolling her eyes. she unlocked her phone again, navigating to her messages. Her thumb moved sluggishly over the screen as she blocked Megan there, too. 

“There,” she said, her voice flat. “Happy now?”

Her manager leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest with a satisfied smirk. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said with a grin that made y/n want to roll her eyes even harder.

y/n gave him a flat stare, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She didn’t say anything more. She just sat there, feeling like she’d been dragged through the mud. Her mind was racing, and her body felt tense.

This wasn’t how she thought her day was going to go...

masterlist ⭑.ᐟ next

taglist: @saysirhc @urmom2314 @artrizzler19 @yeetaberry127 @yjiminswallet @lara4eclipze @meiphobic @meizinisnumberone @meganskiendielsbtc @soobnotfound @linnnsworld @1luvkarina @raviolisupremacy  @peranoo @vrtualstar @ssamlovr @gtfoiydlyj @firstclassjaylee @kristalag @xochitlisbest  @yazzyminny @esccecvp @snoopyiz @vivilvr @fearnotfearmore @apersonwhowrites @blushmimi @cassiespoiler @wtfisthisnoclueman  | taglist opened 

[captainsamuelmorrigan]

Poolverine/Deadclaws

[Fluff/Angst with a happy ending]

I just think about Wade BEGGING Logan to let him sleep in bed with him. Logan just shakes his head every time, "You don't wanna do that, bub."

But Wade VERY MUCH does. He would literally kill to sleep with Logan, either way he takes that. Well, he'd literally kill someone regardless, that's his job, but you know!! He wants to run his bumpy, scarred fingers through Logan's chest fur so bad. He daydreams about big spooning his Honey Badger, sliding his arms around him and pressing his front to Logan's big, strong, and warm back. He only feels a little horny about it. A normal about of chubbing up about it.

He begs Logan for weeks, getting on his knees for all the wrong reasons. He hasn't wanted anything this bad for at least a few months! He's desperate.

Like most things in Wade's life, it happens at an unexpected and probably bad time. They had had a mission go bad, both bloodied, and ended up showering and finding comfort in bed with each other. They hardly spoke. It just mattered that they were physically touching. They were both still here. Wade got his Wolverine snuggles, and everything was alright again.

Well, until around 4 in the morning. Wade woke up to three adamantium alarm clocks punching through each of his lungs. It hurt like a bitch. He coughed blood right onto Logan's face. Gross. He definitely wasn't getting invited back to bed after this. He weakly tapped the furry man's shoulder. "Logie-bear, I was expecting some penetration tonight, but I like the pre-made holes played with a little more."

Logan growled in his sleep before the taps brought him back to consciousness. His eyes flipped open, and his expression changed from anger to horror in an instant. "WADE! Wade, I'm so sorry-" The claws withdrew, drawing another wet cough out of Wade. "Please, please, stay with me." He started to gather the sheets to press against Wade's chest, his hands slippery and red. "Althea!! Help! Please!" His eyes were wild, scared, and firmly on Wade. "We'll fix this. I'll fix this!" He turned towards the door again, yelling louder. "Althea!! Help me!!"

Wade was a little stunned. What was going on? He patted Logan's arm, trying to get 400 pounds of superhero off of him. He coughs out an "Off!"

Logan looked at him like he was crazy. "Fuck you if you think I'm letting you die here."

Wade tried to push him off again, smearing blood onto Logan's hairy chest. He sputtered, trying to get words out, but the air wasn't quite doing what he wanted yet. Drowning in blood sucked! 0/5 stars on Yelp for sure.

Al knocked loudly on the door. "Logan? You okay in there?" Logan leaped to unlock the door, allowing Wade to sit up a little bit, his flesh starting to really knit back together, feeling his lungs start to clear.

Logan opened the door. "Althea, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I stabbed Wade, he's- He's bleeding out. You need to call a medic- a doctor, someone!" His voice wavered a bit.

Althea placed a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow as she leaned on her walker. "Motherfucker, what the fuck are you talking about? A doctor?" Her nose wrinkled as she caught a whiff of Wade's blood permeating the room. "Whew, that's nasty. Clean that up when you're done with whatever this shit is."

Wade coughed. "Very sweet that you care, Logan." His tone softened. He was realizing Logan wasn't 'here,' he was somewhere else, Wade wasn't really Wade in this scene. "Take a breath, Honeybadger. I'll be fine if you just give me a-" cough "second."

Logan's breathing was still heavy, his eyes still wide and scared. Wade was sure the blood spatters across his face weren't helpful either.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm fine! Or, I'll be fine once the mutant cancer does its job. Remember? I don't die." He waved, smiling at Logan from the bed. He wasn't sure the blood dripping from his chest and mouth was helping his case.

Logan deflated a bit. "Oh." He turned to Al. "Althea, I'm sorry. I didn't realize, or, I forgot. I apologize for waking you up."

Al waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna go smoke a joint. If you need to loosen that tight ass, feel free to join me."

Logan closed the door, coming to sit on the bed, holding his head between his knees.

Wade wiped his hands on the sheets before crawling to put a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. You deserve to get to freak out here and there. We've been through some crazy shit. Did you want to talk about it? Do you want me to go swipe Al's weed? She's not as stingy about it as her cocaine, promise."

"I could've killed you." Logan admits from behind his hands.

"Not possible. Great try though, good form." The Merk quips.

"Don't! Don't joke right now. I would've killed you if you weren't like this." Logan gestures to Wade, his hand still trembling, Wade's blood starting to dry between his fingers. "I shouldn't have let myself fall asleep around you."

"Logan, bud, hey, look at me." Wade patted Logan's knee, scooting closer. "Really look at me."

Logan sat up, turning to face Wade, his eyes red-tinged. His hair is crusty with blood. "Okay...?"

"Am I dead?"

"No, but-"

"No! That's the whole thing. I am alive, whether I deserve to be, or should be, or anything else. I'm here! I'm still here." He smiles softly at Logan. "That's all that matters to me. If a Wolverine cuddle costs me some minutes drowning in blood, I can assure you that is a very small price to pay."

Logan opens his mouth to respond, his sharp canines catching the light from the street lamp outside before he shuts it again. "I'm dangerous."

"I eat danger for breakfast, usually with unicorn marshmallows."

Logan actually laughs at that. "You're insane."

"Insanely in love with you~" Wade teases, jostling Logan with his shoulder.

Logan groans, wiping his face with his bloodied hands. "That can't be the first time you say you love me, that's terrible."

"I think it's perfect. Now, c'mon, let's change the sheets."

"It's gonna stain the mattress." Logan moves.

"Number 2 rule of sex and superheroing without an in-unit washer and dryer, always use a waterproof mattress cover." Wade taps his temple, smirking.

After another shower, a quick change of sheets, and replacing the mattress cover, Wade and Logan are back in bed, cuddled close.

"I love you, too." Logan says softly. "That's a pretty dangerous thing, though."

"Again, danger, breakfast, unicorn marshmallows." Wade mumbles as he pulls Logan closer.

[indecisiveavocado]

Warning: This contains images that are distressing. I'm sorry. The world is distressing sometimes.

To be clear:

One of the first photos of Emily Damari we have is of her missing two fingers

They were dressed up like that by Hamas, and the Red Cross did literally nothing to stop this performance.

Once we're playing that game:

These are photographs from Gaza recently.

(All images from the Guardian except the last one, from the Middle East Monitor.)

Given those photos, why can't I say something like

Shouldn't they be starving? Suffering? Hungry? Geez, I thought this was a war, not a party!

By the way, here are some photos from other parts of the world, also recently, I could use if I really wanted to hammer in that point--mind you, it's easy to find photos from Haiti or Yemen or what-have-you also.

Congo:

Sudan:

(This is an X-ray scan of a 20-month-old's brain. That's shrapnel in there.)

Anyway.

You have the fucking chutzpah to say Zionism is an illness? No. Zionism is a reasonable response to people like you, who we all know perfectly well would cheer as I go to the gas chambers and take my things. I need a country I know will accept me, because I can't trust you.

If you had the weapons and were in the right part of the world, you'd be the terrorist.

I wonder how you sleep at night. How can you consider yourself moral? How can you be anything?

I'd say whatever antisemitic cult you've fallen into is an illness, but no; you don't choose to get ill. It's a monstrous ideology, and it boggles my mind how anyone can consider themselves to be Right and Just when it consists of glorifying murder and torture of the Wrong People.

You say your posts are fact checked.

I have to believe you are either a liar or fucking insane.

I love how you say you don't look at any sources that debunk your claims. (That was yesterday.)

Or how you tell Jews pointing out, validly, that there is plenty of aid coming into Gaza, it's foolish to expect for a Jew to be safe there and that Hamas takes a fair amount of aid to kill themselves. You call Zionists fascists and tell us to kill ourselves.

You tell something like 95 PERCENT of American Jews to kill ourselves. You refuse to engage with other views, refuse to engage with anything.

Your antisemitic death cult is grotesque and disgusting and I am ashamed to live on the same planet as you.

Judaism doesn't normally have a hell. And usually I'm glad. I'm glad my religion doesn't think people need eternal damnation to be good. I'm glad I don't need to worry about that.

But some days...

Anyway.

You are what you claim to despise.

And I don't hope you die.

No.

I hope you suffer precisely what Emily Damari suffered, since, according to you, it won't be so bad.

I hope you suffer what Pongsak Thenna suffered, and Amit Sousanna, and Shiri Bibas, and Kfir Bibas, and all of the other ones.

When Hamas return hostages they look fine.

Whe israel returns hostages they need extensive health care or burial. Israel has sent trucks of bodies, hundreds of deceased "prisoners" back to Gaza with no explanation.

Israel is a terrorist occupation. Zionism is an illness.

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 34

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 700

Masterlist

———————————————————————

  I joined her in her car that Monday evening, parked outside my apartment, with a tinge of apprehension.   I was somewhat dreading this evening, wondering how it would unfold.  

Our kiss was brief, distant.  

I was the one to break the silence.  

 "Really, once again, I’m sorry for those late-night texts..."   

 "It’s fine, let’s not bring up your childish antics at night again, Ona!"   

The evening had started, I thought. I chose not to respond to her provocation, changing the subject instead.  

We talked about everything and nothing in particular, in an atmosphere that was rather peculiar and quite cold.  

Halfway through the drive, I received a message from Alexia. She sent me a photo of all of us from the party, dancing on a table. I burst into laughter suddenly, unable to hold it back.  

 "What’s so funny?"  Lucy asked, glancing at me.  

 "Nothing, just a picture Alexia just sent me!"   

I bit my lower lip. Why had I said that? Unsurprisingly, she followed up.  

 "From your little party?"   

I should’ve thought before I spoke.  

 "Yes, yes..."   

 "With your girlfriend?"   

I immediately replied.  

 "I told you, Lucy, she’s not my girlfriend."   

She didn’t look at me, her eyes fixed on the road.  

 "Since we’re on the topic, can I know how many girls you’re sleeping with at the moment?"   

Her question made me jump. She was looking for a reaction. Before I could answer, she added:  

 "Because honestly, we’ve never really talked about it! How many?"   

Her tone was haughty, cutting, and downright irritating. I was boiling inside.  

 "Look, I’ve lost count!"  I replied with irony.  

Faced with provocation, I had chosen to respond with provocation. At the next roundabout, she didn’t go straight and instead made a U-turn.  

 "What are you doing?"  I asked, surprised.  

 "I don’t really feel like going to that exhibition anymore, you see..."   

 "Fine, suit yourself."   

A silence followed, lasting several long minutes. The tension was palpable, and the evening was turning into a nightmare. As we neared the starting point, I decided to break the heavy silence, letting my frustration slip out.  

 "Why are you acting like this? Huh? I didn’t do anything with that girl or with anyone else. And anyway, you told me you didn’t care! So what’s your problem? The whole 'I don’t care, do what you want'—those were your words! So why does it matter to you if I’m sleeping with half the town?"   

I was fuming, out of control, nerves frayed.  

She pulled the car over to the side of the road, right at the city entrance.  

She turned to me, her gaze unusually serious.  

 "Ona, it would bother me if you were sleeping with half the town. And it did bother me seeing you, Saturday morning, with her, dancing on that float, with her..."   

So, she had seen me on that float.  

 "I told you, she’s a friend, she was just having fun with the situation!"   

 "Having fun with the situation?"  she asked, surprised.  

 "Yes, she knows about us, and, well, she wanted to see how you’d react. That’s Marion; she’s like that!"   

 "Very funny, indeed! So, she knows, then?"   

I replied, visibly annoyed.  

 "Yes, Lucy, she knows! But she lives in Paris, and I doubt she’s going to sell the scoop to  Paris Match !"  I added with a hint of sarcasm.  

I continued,  "You see, normally, I tell my friends everything, especially when it comes to relationships. But this time, I can’t say anything, not even to Alexia. I have to keep everything to myself."   

She looked at me, searching for her words.  

 "Look, it’s a bit of a unique situation, I know, but..."   

I cut her off.  

 "Do you want me to be honest with you? I was hurt, upset when you called me an experiment. I know I can’t expect anything, but it stung. This hidden relationship, kept out of sight—it was exciting at first. But now, it’s weighing on me, okay? I want more. There, I said it: I want more. My late-night texts, as you call them, they mean something! I wanted to see you, I even wanted you to meet my friends. I have feelings for you, do you understand? Romantic feelings!"   

My words poured out of me like a flooded river—fast, sharp, and uncontrollable.  

Lucy stared at me, seemingly stunned by what I’d just said.  

 "I don’t know what to say, Ona,"  were her only words.  

My heart was pounding. I felt suffocated in that car, desperate for air.  

 "I’m sorry, I need to step out, take a walk!"   

She didn’t say a word, letting me go.  

[rubyin-wonderland]

Bloodlust

opla!Sanji x vampire!reader

Summary: A thirsty vampire finds an all too willing neck to drink from

WC: 2.6k

Warnings/tags: blood, classic vampire tropes, biting/blood drinking as intimate acts, Sanji's a little too okay with the situation, the closest I've gotten to writing smut I fear, woo vampirism

The raw burning in your throat was all you could think about. There was an ache in your stomach, and every beat of every heart around you caused you another pang of pain.

You sat, practically hunched over in solitude. Your blood supply ran out days ago and you had yet to eat anything since.

Starvation could not kill you, but it sure felt like it. You could barely think straight, every thought lazily dropping off as you tried ever so desperately to focus on something, anything, for longer than a minute before another stab in your gut.

You could smell it distinctly when you got this hungry. You could smell it in their veins, through their hearts, into their arms and toes and heads. You thought about the taste, so inviting, so fresh and delicious you could just suck one of them dry-

You stood up straight. That snapped you out of it for a second. You would never drink from your companions. That would be a betrayal you could never face. And yet, it seemed so tempting.

Maybe you could just stay in this closet, locked up until you docked once more, then you could go and prey on some local animals and be good once more, replenish your blood supply, and everything would be fine.

A heartbeat approached you, a body full of blood, red and warm and metallic and tempting.

There was a knock and you tried to look normal. Acceptable. Like you did not want to find an artery and tear it from a throat to satiate the burning in your systems.

Another knock. Short, sweet, and delicate. A voice rang out from the other side.

Your name was called, and you sighed, knowing you could not stay locked up forever.

"I know you're in there!" Sanji called, not quite understanding how badly you wanted, no needed him to leave. The smell of his blood was driving you mad. You needed to satiate it.

You open the door, which only intensified the harsh sensation in your stomach. You wanted to keel over.

"Sanji," you could hardly get the words out. "I need to be alone right now."

He did not seem to understand that your problem was not an emotional one. Instead, he stepped forward. "What is it? I can help. You shouldn't have to suffer on your own."

You stood still, trying not to inhale too deeply. "That's not it. Please leave me alone."

He did not. "I can help." You perceived the offer differently from him. Maybe he could help, but you refused to let him. You were not allowed to drink from your crew. You had sworn.

That night, when they had found you perched over a bleeding carcass, they had seen something in you. Something that you had not seen yourself. Humanity. They had loved you, taking you in and letting you feel normal. The only condition, one you had agreed to, was that you could never feed from humans, especially nobody from the crew.

"Sanji, I'm fine." You glared at him, trying to communicate that you needed to be alone.

"What is it? Please tell me." He begged. "I can't stand to think of you suffering by yourself."

You held back a noise of discomfort, his heart was beating faster. "I'm..." You tried to get the word out without scaring him. "Hungry. There's no blood left." You refused to look at him as you confessed, eyes lowering to the floor.

"Oh." You debated looking at him. He sounded less worried about your situation than you expected. Under his skin his heart beat faster, the only indication that he was scared by that information.

"Oh?" You repeated. "I'm a vampire and. I'm starving. You should be scared."

"I'm sorry. What can I do to help?" He seemed genuinely concerned.

"You could spare an artery." You mumbled jokingly, knowing you would never dare.

"Okay, where?" Sanji asked, rolling up his sleeves. You shook your head, realizing the offer he was making. "No. Sanji stop. Nothing. There's nothing you can do. I'll survive without it."

"I'm the chef. I can't let one of my crew starve." He said dutifully.

"Sanji I can't drink from you. Not from the crew." Sanji shrugged. "I won't tell them if you do. I give you permission to drink from me."

You shook your head, backing away. "Sanji. Leave me alone. I can handle this."

He looked at you earnestly. "Let me help." "No. Go back up to the deck."

You watched multiple waves of emotion washing over his face. He looked down, pushing his sleeves back down his arms. "Sorry." He seemed sheepish now that you had refused his offer full stop.

"I'm sorry." You said through gritted teeth, ready for the scent to distance itself again.

"If you ever need to, I'll do it." Sanji offered before he left, his heart pounding.

You shut the door but the smell lingered. Metallic, red glory. You could handle it. You were around these humans every day. You had smelled their blood almost consistently since they picked you up. They had provided you with food so you would not feed off them. They trusted you not to.

Still, seeds of doubt sprouted in your mind, burying roots and growing thick. Your carnal hunger needed to be dealt with. It always did.

How long until it became impossible to ignore? Until you needed to feed and the subject of your feeding was less than cooperative? What if you grew too hungry, unable to stop until their heart had no more blood to pump? Perhaps it would be easier to nip the problem in the already blossoming bud. To cut your losses and drink from your willing crewmate. You had to admit you had been morbidly curious to know what they tasted like.

It would be a temporary solution, and one you would need to do quickly, before you were no longer capable of controlling yourself.

Your stomach stabbed itself once again, and you decided that it was worth the pain to not hurt anyone. You would be docked again in two days. You could go two days more without blood.

You started the timer in your head. Forty-eight hours, less if you considered it was almost dinner and you were expected to be docked before lunch.

Your thoughts kept slipping back to Sanji. His offer. Was he really willing to do that for you? To offer his neck to you, a bloodthirsty vampire, without any signs of fear?

It confused you. You had companions before, several centuries worth, and only a spare few of them had ever sat still, with no signs of resistance whenever they offered you their blood.

And speaking of your companions, there was a fear buried within you, reminding you of those you had failed. The people who had trusted you after you had gone thirsty for too long. The people you had trusted, had loved, drained as a result of your ever present and ever dangerous hunger.

You briefly imagined Sanji in that position, dead, covered in his own blood, still pouring weakly from the teeth marks you had dug into him.

The myths about the healing power of vampires were just that. Myths. You were unable to reverse damage you had done. Your only option was to turn them, a cruelty you refused to enact. An eternal lifetime of bloodlust and fear, hidden from the sun, living alone, or with somebody you were bound to kill, feasting on animals, never fully satisfied unless the blood was flowing.

You could not turn someone, forcing them into that life. It was unfair. In the past, you had just let them die. If Sanji was willing to let you drink, he would have to know that too.

The smell intensified, another knock. "Dinner." Someone called. You could hardly identify the voice through the door.

"Coming." You strained, making your way to the meal.

It had been steaks for dinner, and you were presented with the very last ounces of blood drawn out from the meat, although it hardly did much. If anything, it made your hunger stronger, knowing that you could be satisfied much more than that, if you would only give up your humanity.

Dinner finished without your knowledge, as you tried to block your senses, wanting this tragic tale to be done with.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. "Sanji." Your tone was warning. His hand remained. "I want to help." He insisted.

"I've killed people before. After being hungry for too long. I'm dangerous, remember?"

Sanji laughed. "Dangerously attractive, perhaps." You turned to face him, after scanning the room, making sure it was empty.

"You are risking your life. I won't be able to heal you afterwards. You'll be dizzy, confused, bleeding, and I won't be able to help."

Sanji nodded. "I want to do this for you. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes?"

He stood up straight. "Where do you want me?"

Avoiding the innuendo, you carefully guided him to a chair, deciding which place would be the best to bite him.

You would not find a large vein, else the bleeding would be too intense, but a weak flow would just prolong the process.

You saw Sanji instinctively stretch his neck out, ear to his shoulder, exposing skin for you to bite, tucking his hair behind his ear and carefully pulling his shirt collar away. "No. Not there." You shook your head. "I'll get your arm."

He began to roll up his sleeve before hesitating. "Am I going to get bloody?" You raised your eyebrows. "Obviously you are."

"Wait." He instructed, and you watched as he began to undress in front of you, starting with his blazer, setting it carefully on the island before unbuttoning his nice white shirt. It felt excessive, but it was less laundry to do, so you said nothing.

"Are you ready?" You asked as he sat down again, shirtless. One last painful squeeze in your stomach urged you forward. Sanji got comfortable in his chair, allowing you to take his arm, and bite down.

The second your fangs pierced flesh, you sensed the tension you had been waiting for. Every muscle went rigid, trying to keep himself from squirming or trying to push you off as you drank.

His blood tasted delicious, like everything you had wanted and more. It was more satisfying than any other human blood you had tasted.

Your eyes stayed firmly shut, but you heard the muffled sound that escaped Sanji's mouth, a cross between a gasp and a groan, which drove an excess amount of blood to his face.

You were nowhere near satisfied before you detached from him, worried that he wanted to back out from your deal.

You wiped your chin, eyes fixated on his bleeding arm, which he took a while for him to cover up.

"Are you okay?" You asked, hasty, hoping you had not hurt him badly. "Why?" He asked softly, a question for just you and the secrecy of night to hear. "What?"

"Why did you stop?"

The question pulled at your stomach. Was he ready to give away more? Was he disappointed that you had stopped?

"Do you want me to keep going?" You asked, eyes flitting to the various other places you could bite, Sanji's eyes watching yours as they traced over his body.

"Yes."

You swallowed. "Tilt your head to the side." An order. He obeyed. "Since you want it so bad."

You could see the vein. It was so easy to pierce, now flowing with an elevated amount of blood due to the adrenaline in his body.

You stood behind him, hovering over the area for a second, your one hand holding his shoulder steady, the other at the top of his head holding the hair at his neck out of the way, a practiced position.

"Please." His voice was strained, and fueled by his word, you bit down again.

The bigger target had won you a better prize, your drink far easier to consume, so easily given up. You could see Sanji holding onto the chair, knuckles whitening as you drank, heaving breaths as he felt you taking the life out of him.

He made a variety of small noises while you drank, repressed, but all heard by your ears. You heard the soft grunts, the caught breaths, the gentle moans he tried to stifle. It was hurting him alright, but he hardly seemed bothered.

In fact, the poor man seemed to enjoy it.

You finally stopped, pulling away and putting pressure on the wound, not wanting him to bleed out. Lucky for him, your punctures were not big enough to cause a real problem. You just needed them to scab over.

In the meantime, with your hand pressed firmly against his neck, you reveled in being full. The pain in your stomach was seeping away by the second, and you felt stronger. Human blood had not been a part of your diet for some time now.

"Are you alright?" You asked Sanji, who was still breathing heavily in the chair, head lolling a little, only held in place by your hand holding his neck.

"Yes." He said quickly. He was shaking a little, and you decided to get him a snack, something to fuel his body as it recovered what you had taken from it.

You checked his neck, giving him a towel to press against the wound as you rifled through the fridge.

"You might want to clean your face." Sanji advised. You turned to look at him. "What?" "My blood." He looked a little shy. "It's dripped a bit. Lovely colour on you though."

You scoffed at him, taking some fruit out of the fridge and setting it down on the counter, offering it up.

"You know," Sanji pulled the cloth away from his neck, the would no longer bleeding. "That wasn't bad at all."

You raised an eyebrow and moved to the sink, turning on the tap to rinse your face, drops of pink landing below.

"No? Not even the bite?" "I'd say your bark is worse but I like both quite fine."

You laughed. "That's good. You're smiling again." He observed, standing and walking towards you. "How are you feeling?"

You took the cloth and dampened it with water, trying to clean the blood off his neck, dabbing carefully to avoid reopening the wound.

"I'm much better. I haven't felt like this in ages." You tilted your head to the side, considering something. "Thank you. I am indebted to you." Sanji shook his head. "No, I could never. Whenever you need, I will be ready."

His excitement was clear. "My blood is yours." You looked at him, standing there in front of you, flushed and looking giddy. You hooked an arm around him, pulling him close, and kissed him on the lips. For a second, he was frozen, before his body regained movement, arms snaking around your shoulders, squeezing you as he kissed back.

Your hands moved, carefully assuring that he was okay with everything your did, hands tracing up and down his sides, one coming up to tangle in his hair.

A vampire and a meal. Unconventional, but you hardly cared. Your lips moved against his, an action that somehow felt better than drinking from him. Another long suffering hunger, finally satiated.

He pulled away first, arms still around you, his hair messy. "Oh love," you nearly melted at the nickname. "You are magnificent."

You resisted the urge to close the gap between the two of you, letting him speak. "You make my heart race in your presence, my blood flows just for you."

"Kiss me again." You ordered. He was more than happy to oblige.

[summerwriting]

banner belongs to @dollywons

Author's note: i am probably going to make a part two or turn this into a little series. Also head Canon readers colour is pastel blue. Also sorry about spelling mistakes if there is any, I'm dyslexic. i am also taking requests if you're interested check out arcane writing requests

A OLD FRIEND

You worked yourself through most of your nights, and they were normally quiet and consisted of the same repetitive activities. Serves a drunk dude kicks him out serves a drunk dude gets hit on kicks him out serves a another stupid fucking drunk dude and kicks him out again. Ok so Maybe they Weren't quiet, but it was a normal Night for you. What you were not expecting to happen on your Regular Saturday night shift was an old Friend that you thought was dead walking into the bar.

“I'll get a beer” is the first thing she said to you. She definitely Didn't recognise you. That's for sure  oh boy you were going to have fun that Night.

“Coming up, vi” you snickered, shaking your head.

“How do yo– oh haha very funny, don't you Dare say it's written on my face” Vi snapped at you.

“Well it is, but would you prefer me call you Violet, Violet” you say leaning on the Counter. There was a smirk on your face 

“Im sorry what who the fuck are you and why the fuck do you know my name and i mean my full name” she got Defensive real fast wich made you Laugh and roll your eyes.

“Mmmm you'll just have to figure it out won't you” you grabbed a glass “violet” you add her name at the end just to tort her. You filled the glass full of beer, all the while vi’s eyes Scanned over you Suspicion and cautiousness in her Gaze.   

“Ok thats not funny, who the fuck are you Bitch!!!” she snapped angrily her hands went down hard on the table her voice was loud and Obnoxious almost like Shame wasn't something she even had thought of. The people in the bar went quiet at the Sudden yell and their eyes went to her and well… you.

“You might want to be quieter, girly,”  you said, slipping her glass over to her with a smile on your lips. It didn't take long for everyone to go back to their original conversations.

“How do you know who i am?, talk” her voice came out threatening and her demeanour came off as Intimidating but not to you. 

“You'll just have to remember me. I can't be that forgettable can i?”you took a seat on your side of the counter resting your head in your hands your head tilted to the side.

“Just tell me who you are,” Vi demanded. Your Eyebrows furrowed in disappointment

“I'm Y/N, you seriously couldn't recognise me?” you asked.

“Oh god” vi’s eyes widened with sock and they seemed to Light up. She Launched forward, jumping over the Counter, wrapping her arms around you. You smiled and  wrapped your arms around Vi as well. “I can't believe this, i thought i'd never see you again” her hug was so warm and comforting and loving, it brought back old memories for you and her. you remembered the butterflies you would get when she would hug you like this or hold your hand or wrap her arm around your shoulder and when she would look at you with her big beautiful blue eyes the ones she was looking at you with right now.

“You thought that. i thought you were dead” you cupped her cheek. your eyes searching hers.

“I'm so sorry sweets i was- i was- well it's a long story” vi coked out. Her hands came up to grip both sides of your face. 

“Where have you been?”you asked, you needed to know you hadn't seen her in 7 years and she just showed up like the walking dead.

“I was arrested and shoved into stillwater for 7 years and then some enforcer got me out and i went looking for powder and well im sure you know about jinx and then well me and that enforcer kissed and then i stopped her from killing a kid and then she hit me and now i'm a drunk liveing in some shity apartment.” well that was a mouthful and a lot of information for you to take in. The two things that stuck was that she had been to prison and she's been in a Relationship with an enforcer which made it even worse, because yes you were a little jealous which was stuped. you Hadn't seen her in 7 fucking years, you Shouldn't feel that she was just some silly Little crush you had when you where little that was never Reciprocated.( Because you were like 11 and she was 15 but thats not the case now)

[bouquet-of-flow3rs]

Blood Lust

Chapter III

!pairings: Vampire!Ot8!Straykids

summery: Now that the eight men have fullfilled their end of the deal it's your turn.

TW: Mentions of previous abuse, PTSD (?), mentions of murder, thoughts of violence, burning bodies (?), smut, voyeurism, cockwarming (kinda), blood play, praise, pet names (ex: sweetheart, baby, sweet girl etc,,,), Sir kink, MxM moments, unprotected sex, dry humping (?), fingering (f receiving), nipple play, aftercare. [Please let me know if I missed anything!]

One last look back was all it took for you to know it’s over, the years of torture you endured were finally over.

You couldn’t help but tear up as you walk to the front of the apartment, sniffling, you wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks, of course the eight men notice Jeongin going up and asking if you’re alright, “I’m sorry, was that too much for you?” He asks his lips curving downwards into a frown.

You let out a few shaky breaths, “No, I’m okay.” You smile your cheeks and nose rosy from crying, “I’m so glad it’s over.” You finally break sobbing out in relief. They all watch unsure if you’re comfortable with them touching you to try and comfort you so they hold off, all but Felix who walks over and slowly places his hand onto your cheek using his thumb to wipe away the stray tears.

You laugh at the gesture and move your hands up to wipe them away yourself, “Thank you.” You smile at the blond, before walking over and putting on a pair of shoes, “It’s still okay for me to go with you right?” You ask craning your neck to face the men by the door.

“Of course you can.”

Chan smiles at you his dimples popping out, Jisung moves his hand out to you and you grasp it, the cold touch startling you but you continue to hold it nonetheless, “So, where are we going?” you ask walking down the hall to the elevator of the apartment building, the blank walls and carpeted floors leaving you with a sense of unease from the amounts of times you passed them on your way back from work to Sungwoo.

You shake your head not wanting to think of him, this is your fresh start, your brain already conjuring up so many ideas for what you’re going to do, maybe you’d try reaching out to your parents and pray Sungwoo didn’t ruin your relationship with them when he cut you off from your family and friends all those years ago.

You were so deep in your brain that you didn’t even notice how much time had passed until you were walking into a luxurious-looking building, your hand still intertwined with Jisung’s his hold on you never slipping, “I’m so excited.” He smiles at you his cheeks looking adorably squishy, Felix overhears what Jisung says “Me too.” He agrees his usually deep accented voice pitched higher.

Hearing what they say you’d expect you’d be going to an amusement park not somewhere where they are going to drink your blood. It still feels odd that these seemingly normal men are vampires, heck you have doubts now, but all evidence points to them being truthful about their mythological beings.

You walk past a large lobby where the only person there is the receptionist and seeing as it’s still early morning it does make sense for it to be relatively empty, but you can’t help but feel bad seeing them yawn and rub their eyes nearly asleep from most likely being stuck on the graveyard shift, you focus your attention back on the men at the sound of the elevator dinging, opening its shiny metal doors for the nine of you.

Entering the surprisingly large elevator you’re amazed at its luxurious look, from its pristine, finger-printless walls to the large glass opening behind you which thankfully has no sunlight coming through, you watch as Chan presses the button for the very top floor, ‘the penthouse.’ you think to yourself impressed but then remembering these men do look like they could be supermodels.

You frown as you look out the window watching the once spotless sky slowly fill with dark storm clouds, you worry that Sungwoo’s body won’t have fully turned to ash but, you quickly reassure yourself that even if he doesn’t they still made sure he was dead.

Changbin turns and sees your pale face and scrunched eyebrows, “Uh oh, are you having regrets now that he’s dead?” He asks his face one of both a smug expression with a hint of concern before you can respond he shrugs, “Oh well, not like we can bring him back.” he says before looking away from you and beginning a conversation with Hyunjin, Jisung sends him a look squeezing your hand in comfort but you quickly speak up, “No actually,” you smile, “I’m glad, I was just thinking that the sky is getting cloudy and you know..” You trail off squeezing back at his hand reassuring him you're okay.

Felix who stands next to you wraps his arm around you stroking his thumb up and down your arm sending tingles down your body.

As the elevator continues rising you choose to stay quiet not sure what else to converse with these men about, you can hear the small ‘ding’ every time you pass a floor over the quiet chatting of the boys and the relaxing elevator music playing in the back. When you finally reach the penthouse the elevator lets out a louder ‘ding’ than it did for the other floors before the doors open and you see a metal fence-like door with a lock on it appear.

Chan digs through his pants pocket pulling out his keys making a move to unlock the gate, the boys all flood out of the elevator once the gate is fully opened by Chan Jisung quickly pulls you into the foyer of their penthouse, “Come on [Y/n] I can’t wait to show you around!” He smiles.

The apartment is nice and clean with a nice modern feel to it unlike the old-timey vampire lair you imagined them in before, the walls are mostly white with accent walls here and there, lots of gorgeous artwork hung on them, along with the massive floor to ceiling windows, that all adorn heavy-duty blackout curtains, Jisung also points out their massive balcony that overlooks most of the city.

He drags you into the living room with a soft and cozy couch and lots of throw blankets, along with imagining a lair you also thought they might have a frat house-like state, lots of mess around, and stereotypical ‘male’ decoration, but they had a stunning sleek style to the living room, a huge TV adorning the wall, and an expensive looking glass coffee table in the middle of the room, “Your house is so nice…” You comment looking at an exquisite painting on the wall, “Oh, Hyunjin made that one, lots of the artwork in here was made by him.” Jisung mentioned, you look over at said man in awe, he’s seated on their couch legs draped over Changbin’s thick thighs, he acts all nonchalant “I like to paint.” He shrugs before going back to scrolling on his phone.

“Come on [Y/n] I wanna finish showing you around~” Jisung whines, dragging you around the rest of the house which looks just as nice as the rooms he’s shown you already.

He shows you their kitchen which is rather large the black and white marble counters cool to the touch, you can see they obviously don't use it much, when you open their fridge it's completely void of any food, but when you think back in it that does make sense for them.

You follow him farther into the penthouse stopping by their bathrooms, they have two of them that he shows you, both in matching designs but one has a fancy-looking jacuzzi tub and the other a walk-in shower.

You'd never seen either of those in real life only knowing the simplicity of a combined shower bath, your eyes wide in awe.

A laugh brings you out of your admiration making your cheeks puff out in embarrassment, Jisung can't help but laugh at the adorable sight of you, your amazed face, and sparkling eyes.

A look of fondness paints his face, his eyes soften and his cheeks go pink, all of which you miss in favor of your own amazement.

_

After he’s shown you all around their home, excluding the inside of their bedrooms he drags you back over to the living room, “Chanie Hyung ~” he purrs, “Can we start now?” His doe eyes plead, Chan’s dark eyes flit over to you who’s standing next to the pleading man, your hands wringing together a small blush dusting your cheeks, “I’m not the one you should be asking Hannie.” He says his voice low with the hint of a smirk.

Jisung’s eyes move over to your figure next to him, his pupils dilating in want, he can still smell your sweet blood and if he were to strain his ears he’s sure he could hear your heart thumping in your chest, your blood pumping through your veins, oh how he wants to nuzzle up against your pulse point before sinking his teeth into you.

His teeth feel uncomfortable in his mouth yearning to sink into your delicate human neck, to taste your warm, sweet blood fill his mouth, he wants that so bad. 

Would you let him? Would you let him and his coven use you? Let them feed themselves off of you? Let them taste you? Fuck, he can’t stop thinking about it, can you see the want in his eyes, his need to take a bite of you? 

Han looks over at Chan, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, Chan raises an eyebrow at him, his arms crossed and a smirk on his face, “Go on.” Chan voices, Jisung looks back over to you standing next to him, a rosy blush on your cheeks, you look so cute squirming in your spot, he doesn’t like that you aren’t looking at him though.

He takes a step closer to you reaching out his hand and cupping your chin raising your head to look at him, his gaze dropping down to your plush lips, your eyes shining in the apartment lighting, you make eye contact with him and that makes him want you more, the almost innocent look on your face all too adorable to him. His tongue darts out wetting his lips. You can’t help but watch as the pink muscle wets his lips leaving a glossy sheen to them.

You wonder if he can hear your heart pacing in your chest due to your want and excitement, you want them to make you feel again, feel like Sungwoo’s death wasn’t a dream but reality, want them to cover your memories with pleasure.

Jisung closes the space between you two ducking down to your height before placing his soft pouty lips on yours, his hands moving down your body before resting on your waist, your hands moving up around his neck pulling him deeper into the kiss not caring who’s watching.

His lips parted enough for his tongue to dart out and poke at your mouth asking for entrance, you part your lips, his tongue slipping in and swiping over the inside of your mouth, you move your tongue against his, swirling together as saliva drips down and onto your chin. The kiss is all wet and syrupy sweet, you can hear him moaning into your mouth, his body pushing closer to yours seeking out your warmth.

He finally pulls apart from you with a lewd ‘pop’ a string of spit connecting you together, “What’s got you so excited, hm?” He asks with a dopey smile appearing on his lips, “I’m just happy.” You say a genuine smile taking over your face.

“So happy.” 

You giggle, your hands raking down his chest resting to his clothed tummy. The two of you are so absorbed in each other you don’t even notice Chan has walked over to you until his hands land on your waist, his large hands cupping over Han’s before pulling you away from the man and into his chest.

“Let’s not do this in the living room.” He smiles at the two of you, your brain foggy from the kiss making you all pliant as he maneuvers you down the elegant hall and into a spacious bedroom.

He picks you up wrapping his arms around your thighs and plopping you down onto the large plush bed, you sink into the middle of the buttery comforter which is a nice cool temperature beneath you soothing your warm skin.

Jisung attempts to climb onto the bed after you but is pulled away by a disapproving Minho “You know the rules Hannie.” He shakes his head making Jisung pout and wiggle in his hold trying to break free and get to you. Chan shakes his head a deep chuckle coming from him before he moves away from the bed and over to Jisung giving a kiss to his pink, pouty lips and moving away back to the bed.

He climbs onto the bed his arms caging you underneath him, you bring your hands up and wrap them around his black button-up shirt, tugging him down and raising yourself up to meet in a kiss, your eyes closing as you allow your tongue to swirl with his in a wet french kiss.

Chan’s deep stormy blue eyes watching your lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks as you kiss him, the lewd wet sounds bouncing off the walls making the other seven a bit jealous they aren’t the ones kissing you.

Using one arm to hold himself he moves the other up to cup your cheek his own eyes closing allowing himself to enjoy the intoxicating feeling that is you.

After kissing for a few more seconds you finally pull away from him, releasing your tight hold on his shirt laying back down on the plush bed, “Ah, right my blood.” You say scooting back from him just enough to allow you to pull your shirt off of your body, leaving you only in your undergarments and pajama pants “That’s what you want right?” you continue throwing your shirt leaving it to land somewhere behind you “Go ahead.” you offer tilting your head and exposing your neck to him.

“Take as much as you’d like.” 

Chan feels as if he was put under a trance his eyes glazing over as it feels as though his body is moving on its own, he leans down pressing his chest to yours using one of his hands to wrap around the back of your neck, he narrows his eyes at the bruises covering your neck like a collar along with the hickeys dotting your collarbones and chest, he lowers his head even more his tongue lolling out of his mouth tickling you as he leaves wet swipes all around your bruised neck He leaves open-mouthed kisses around your hickies erasing them as if they’d never happened.

You feel fuzzy, like everything is cotton candy fluffy, as he mouths around your neck, you’re so distracted by his wet lapping you don’t even notice when he bites down forcing a moan from your parted lips, you move your arms brushing them against his back feeling his tones muscles from under his dress shirt before raking your hands through his dark curly hair.

The others can scent your blood through the air, they feel as if they could see it if they strain their eyes enough, they’re jealous seeing Chan take gulps from your neck knowing they’ll have to wait their turn so they don’t drink you dry, they can’t help but imagine themselves in his place you arching your back into them letting out the cutest little “Ah, ah, ah’s~”  dragging your nails over their scalps, oh how they wish it was them.

Jisung is still struggling in Minho’s hold rubbing his ass onto his hyung letting out small whines, “Stay still.” Minho breathes out into Han's ear, tightening his hold on the squirming boy. He lowers his hold on him moving his hand down to palm over the younger bulge successfully making him stop his squirming.

Chan pulls away from you when you give a light shove to his shoulder forcing him away from you, as he sits back you plop yourself down onto his lap, blood dripping down from the small wound on your neck a few drops escaping and dripping onto his face, he licks his plump bloody-red lips, “What’s wrong?” He asks his eyes trailing down to where your drops of blood roll down your chest.

You encircle your arms around his broad shoulders pulling yourself closer to him,

“More…”

You press your chest to his, he moves his hands down to rest on your hips pressing you down onto his bulge, “Please..” You whisper into his ear, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine, the desperation in your voice making him hiss in desire, you can feel him twitching beneath you making you more desperate for him, you remove your arms from around him and settle one onto his chest the other to one of his hands resting on you, “I don’t want you just there,” You say as you grasp onto his hand and drag it up you back and onto the hook of your bra, “I want …more~”  You gasp out.

He huffs a chuckle from his throat, his thumb moving to his cheek wiping away your crimson blood and slipping it onto his pink tongue, his dark eyes never leaving yours. “Oh [Y/n], you have no idea…” He hums, his cold touch cupping your cheeks thumbs stroking up and down, shivering you lean into his touch small huffs leaving your parted lips.

“How much I’m holding back.”

Nuzzling into his touch a small plea of “Sir~” can’t help but leave your lips, his hold on you going stiff,  “Oh [Y/n], sweet, sweet girl.” He coos, “Tell me… what is it you want me to do, hm?” his face contorting into an arrogant grin, you can feel yourself vibrating in need as his hands reach up tugging at your pouty lower lip, your tongue lolling out shiny and wet as he slides his fingers into your mouth.

You take his finger deeper into your warm mouth, your tongue swirling over his digits, eyes closed and moaning as he forces them in deeper causing you to gag, he pulls them away making you pout at him, “I asked you a question [Y/n]” He says his voice teasing as a genuine smile curls onto his lips.

You drag your hand from his chest down to his toned stomach, “ I want you to…”

“Touch me,”

“Hold me,”

“And fuck me.”

“I want you to do whatever you can to make me feel whole again.” You purr, rubbing your face into his hold, you’re a little sticky from your sweat and you're sure your face is flushed but you couldn’t care less how you look right now as long as he makes you feel as though Sungwoo’s death wasn’t just a dream that it wasn’t just a fantasy you want him to make you feel just how real it was.

Chan smirks at your words leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, this kiss is unlike the previous one you shared, that one was lewd, slow, and wet this one is all teeth clacking together and biting each other's lips, your tongues battling the other, he wraps his hands behind you and unhooks your bra letting the straps slide down your arms, briefly you pull away from each other your lips pulling apart with a wet ‘pop’, your bra falling off your body before he throws it somewhere in the room to be forgotten.

The others are so pent up and struggling to hold themselves back from the scent of your blood still floating around the room calling them to you, not to mention the sight of you sprawled out on the bed chest heaving as you take in deep breaths after the kiss you shared with their leader, They watch their want barely being contained, few of them are able to hold themselves back from palming themselves at the sight, hell, Jisung is putty in Minho’s hands, you glance over at the two only long enough to see Han’s unbelievably pretty dick being stroked by Minho’s veiny hands.

You can feel a dribble of slick wet your panties at the sight of them, only able to catch a quick glimpse before Chan is moving your gaze back to him, “Focus on me.” He whispers into your ear, nuzzling into your neck, licking up the small amount of blood that ran down your neck from earlier.

He follows the trail of blood as it rolls down lower on your chest, moving over to your breasts and letting his tongue swirl around your left nipple, feeling it harden under his tongue he continues, you move your hands up scratching at his scalp and pulling him closer to you allowing him to suck and swirl around your bud pulling small moans from you, you twitch and squirm in his hold, he growls against you send shocking vibrations down to your core.

“Slow- slow down~” you moan out, your grip on him loosening before the sensation of his sucking and slurping becomes too much for you causing you to tug him away by his hair, your breath hitches and eyes widen at the realization of what you did, you quickly pull your hands off of him and closer to you as a memory of Sungwoo floods your mind.

_

“Did you just fucking touch me?” Sungwoo scowls his face contorting into one of disgust your hands still buried in his brown hair “Get your disgusting hands out of my hair.” His voice deep and cold as the haunting words leave his lips.

_

His memory shuts off your brain and tricks you into believing he’s the one above you, you shrivel away from Chan, curling up into a defensive position as you hyperventilate eyes shut tight to block everything.

“I-I’m sorry…” You whimper still in the same position the words pulling out of your chest as a last-ditch effort to try and make what you did right, all the men in the room are confused as they watch you, the tension instantly disappearing as you dig yourself into your trauma.

Chan’s eyes are scrunched in hurt, moving his hands closer to you in an attempt to grab hold of your hands and try to offer some comfort but when you see his hands coming closer to you, you move away from him instantly.

“Oh [Y/n]..” His voice is pained and the others watch still standing in their position to make sure you aren’t frightened by their presence, “Why? What's wrong did I hurt you?” He asks his voice soft and his movements slow making sure you can see where his hands are going.

‘...He’s going to hit me…!’ you can’t help but think even with all his precautions, his hand gently grabs ahold of yours and you watch with wide eyes as he raises it to his lips placing a small gentle peck to your open palms his eyes closing as he leans into you. “Did I do something wrong?” His eyebrows pinch together “I’m just- I’m just touching you…” He breathes out as his tongue darts out and leaves teasing licks to your fingertips, “Holding you,” He moves further down to your wrist leaving another tantalizing lick there “and licking you the way you wanted.” He moves away from your wrist and closer to your face cupping one of your cheeks and going over to your ear licking at the shell of it.

“Or would you prefer I did something else?” He says his gaze soft as he once again lowers down to your chest this time taking your right bud into his mouth causing you to moan in pleasure, you cover your mouth with your hand, your face feeling hot at all the attention you’re receiving.

Chan drags his hand up from your waist and up to where your hand is dragging it away from your parted lips, “I want to hear you,” He glances over at the others who are watching the two of you, “and I’m sure they do too.” He smirks at them before going back to licking at you.

“Hng~ Not just up there,” You lightly push at him making him separate from you with a lewd ‘pop’ before you cup his cheeks and leave a wet kiss on his shiny lips, “I- I want you to touch down there too..” You whisper turning your face away from him in embarrassment, lifting your hips and grinding up into him “...Please…” you add turning back to make eye contact with him.

“Fuck.” He breathes out closing his eyes while he grinds down onto you rolling his hips down into yours, you can feel him, your eyes widening at his size, ‘Can I even take that?’ You mentally question yourself, “A-are you sure?” he questions you diving down and licking at your neck, you cup his sharp jaw lifting his head and leaving a tantalizing lick on the shell of his ear “Hurry~” you whisper to him sending shivers down his body, you can feel him twitching in his slacks making you roll your hips into his once more.

“Ahh, [Y/n],” He chuckles pulling away from you and lifting your legs up before slowly pulling at your pajama bottoms, while he does so you turn your head and look at the seven pairs of eyes that are trained on you, your gaze flitting over to Minho and Jisung, Minho and you make eye contact one eyebrow raised and a teasing smirk adorn his face before you lower your gaze down to see Han’s pants pulled down to his thighs, his wet, pretty cock standing tall as Minho pumps it, moving your gaze back up to their faces you see Han’s eyes glazed over a trail of drool falling down his lips to his chin.

“Eyes on me,” Chan commands grabbing ahold of your chin and taking your focus back to him, he trails small kisses down from your ankle to your inner thighs the eye contact making you shy, he gives one last lick to your thigh before moving over to your panties, you’re positive he’s seen the small wet patch on the gust of them when he chuckles, you evert your eyes from him when he does so choosing to look at the pretty artwork on the wall, he places a short kiss to the wet spot before moving up and placing a second kiss at the small bow on the front.

The slow drag of him pulling them down makes your legs shake in anticipation, once fully off Chan smirks before throwing them towards the others letting them fight amongst themselves for who gets them “Oh [Y/n], you’re so wet already,” he coos, “Is this all for us, hm?” he teases his fingers brushing against your aching clit.

 “As much as I’d love to be in you already I think we’re gonna need to open you up.” He says his middle finger running up and down your slit. His fingers slide up and down spreading your slick around, the delicious stretch of his thick fingers spreading your hole open, your back arching as you moan out.

You squirm at the drag of his fingers brushing against that little spot as he wiggles them up deeper into you.

“Ngh… Sir~” A whimper spills from your throat, tears gathering in your eyes, nobody has ever been this gentle with you, his cold hands adding more stimulation sending shivers through your body.

You feel embarrassed, you can feel their calculating eyes on you, feel as though they are dissecting your every move, the small noises you make, the twitches of your body, the wet squelching every time Chan thrusts his finger in a little too fast.

You’re embarrassed but you can’t help but want more, you need more, it feels so good as he grinds them into you taking his time, his other hand toying with your sensitive clit.

“Good girl, think you can take another?” Chan asks his fingers pulling out of you making you whine and wiggle your hips at him.

You cry out as 3 of his fingers penetrate you, stretching you out, “I know sweet girl, but you’re doing so good for us.” He soothes, his other hand stroking circles onto your thigh, tears prick at your eyes turning your vision blurry as they escape and roll down your rosy cheeks.

The bed divots behind you a tell-tale sign of someone crawling up to you, you crane your neck back and see a tuft of blond hair as Felix pulls up behind you.

His large hands cup your cheeks your tears wetting his fingertips as he wipes them away, leaning down he places a delicate kiss to your warm forehead, brushing away some of your hair and tucking it behind your ears.

“Is Channie Hyung making you feel good honey?” He coos a sweet smile on his face, you can see his sharp little fangs peeking out while he smiles, you nod your head letting out little squeaks at the drag of Chan’s fingers inside you.

The others can smell your blood sweetening pulling them in like a moth to a flame, the scent getting sweeter the more excited you get, they all take steps closer to the bed, the mattress bouncing you up as Jisung climbs over to you, 

“Remember Ji, Channie gets to go first.” Minho chides worrying Jisung will scoop you up and dart away with you, Seeing as Jisung was practically drunk off the scent of your blood alone they all worry he won’t be as delicate with you as you need to be treated right now.

Regardless Han plops himself next to Felix at your head pushing the blond out of the way and cradling your head on his lap, “Doin’ so good pretty.” He babbles stroking your tangled hair, “Ji~” Felix whines at having his spot taken away tugging at the man to attempt to get his spot back.

His fairy-like features scrunching into a cute pout you can barely resist from reaching a hand up to cup his freckled cheeks, but you’re quickly pulled away from that thought when you feel Chan’s thick fingers leaving you.

You whine at the loss but at the sound of Chan’s belt buckle coming undone you decide to focus on that, you rake your eyes up his body, while you were entranced with Jisung and Felix you hadn’t realized he had removed his shirt.

His toned muscles shining in a thin sheen of sweat, not to mention his veiny hands undoing his belt, you’re hoping no one will notice you drooling at the sight, but even prettier than that is when he drags his dress pants down revealing his red, veiny cock his tip glistening with pre-cum.

Your eyes flit up to his face your eyes meeting, his blue eyes drawing you in deeper.

“Before we continue are you sure you want this?” His stormy eyes once dark now appeared to hold so much light, the feel of your warm hand cupping his jaw dragging him closer to you

“I want this.” you affirm your gaze never leaving his, your lips meet in a searing kiss, slow and melty, his lips feeling like chocolate melting into you, so delicate and not at all like Sungwoo’s.

While it may seem selfish of you, you can’t help but want them to erase all your hurt, want them to help you pick up your broken pieces.

The feel of his tip poking at your entrance pulls you out of your selfish desires, “If it hurts tell me, I’ll stop.” He whispers to you his hands caressing your warm cheeks, your hands bury themselves in his hair tugging him down to your neck.

His sharp thrust into you masking the pain of his teeth sinking into you once more, your cry of pain forcing him away from you.

Cool hands brush through your hair and wipe at your tears the two men above you taking the time to dote on you, they themselves know the pain of taking Chan for the first time, while the drag of him can feel amazing with time the pain of the first push still lives within’ their memories.

“We know sweetheart.” Felix coos at you with your red and puffy eyes, a painful reminder that you deserve to be treated with all the care in the world.

Chan allows you time to adjust truthfully something that is new to you, Sungwoo never cared if you were in pain, never cared how much he hurt you, the sick bastard even got off on it.

Chan leaves small kitten licks to the new fresh puncture holes in your neck slurping as it dribbles out more blood for him, his lips red with your blood small flecks of it drying around his plump lips, the metallic smell of it along with the blood loss making you feel light-headed.

Small pecks dot your cheeks and forehead Jisung and Felix reassuring you that you’re being so good for them.

All of it was so overwhelming, their words going in one ear and out the other, you’d never been praised before, you weren’t sure if you could believe them, their sweet words melting your brain down to marshmallow fluff, your body pliant as Chan gives small thrusts into you as you adjust the drag of his cock inside your gummy walls doing nothing to help you feel as though you were resting on a soft fluffy cloud.

Your warm walls feel like heavens gates Chan couldn’t help but let his hips stutter even the sensation of cockwarming in you made him feel as though he’d bust at any second, your lidded eyes staring at him as though he were a puzzle.

He’s sure you’re trying to evaluate them to see if you can truly believe they don’t want to hurt you, after all, who knows how long you were hurt by that scumbag of a man, he’s only just met you and he’s sure he’d give you the world if you’d ask, he wants to be soft with you, offer you the things nobody has before.

And seeing his youngers being so soft with you makes him more sure of his desire for you.

At a particularly short rough thrust, you can’t help but cry out the large stretch still being a little too much for you and he wasn’t even all the way in yet, only about halfway in.

His hips instantly recoil away from you in fear he’s hurt you but before he can pull out your legs wrap around his waist locking him to you, your eyes instantly clearing of the sweet foggy look “No- no you said-” You hiccup an adorable pout on your face, “-You said you’d give it to me.” You cry your hands leaving their hold on Felix and Jisung instead reaching out to Chan with cute grabby hands.

All their gazes on you soften, the others still scattered around the room coming closer to help console you, “I know,” He coaxes, “I want to keep going too but I- I don't want to hurt you…” He says his hands reaching out to hold you.

“It's okay I-!” You cry out your hold on him tightening, “I can take it.” You say your voice dying down in embarrassment your cheeks puffing out but your eyes stay determined.

Felix runs his hands through your hair, Jisung stroking his hands up and down your arms, coaxing you to lay back down for them, “Channie knows you want to take it, but we gotta be gentle with you.” Minho speaks up your focus turning over to his frame at the edge of the bed.

‘That's right they only need me for my blood…’ You can’t help but think they don’t actually want to do this for you after all the deal was that they got your blood not you.

As if sensing your doubts Chan's hold on you tightens bringing your attention back to him, “[Y/n] I’ll keep going but you have to promise you’ll stop me if it ever gets too much for you.” He states his voice dark and serious.

“I promise.” Is all you have to say before your breath is knocked out of you your eyes rolling back at how deep Chan is inside of you now that he’s pushed all the way in, your walls clamping down on him making him hiss unable to pull out to thrust again he delivers shallow thrust into you rocking himself deeper.

“You’re so tight I can barely move.” He groans out his head thrown back at the feeling of your hot gummy walls making him throb inside of you.

Your arms are wrapped securely around his body your nails clawing at his muscular back most likely leaving red scratches behind, his head moves back to your neck licking up the trail of blood that oozes from your small puncture wound, you rest your head of Jisungs thighs both his and Felix’s eyes glued to where you and Chan are connected.

The others watch in Jealousy as Chan delivers thrust after thrust into you, your legs still locking him close to you his mouth leaving wet bloody kisses to your neck.

Small breathless moans leave your parted lips your eyes closed as you live in the moment you can feel Felix and Han’s hands moving all around your body sometimes being brave enough to trail down to your perky nipples gently twirling them between their fingers.

All the sensations you feel force you closer to the edge a tingly feeling in the pit of your tummy, Chan trails his hand down to toy with your puffy clit, and that's the final blow you need before your walls clamp down on Chan as pleasure takes over your body as you moan out.

You feel all fuzzy after your climax whimpering as Chan chases his own release, your walls sucking him in deeper.

The sweet taste of your warm blood along with the feel of your slick walls on him pushing him over the edge as he pulls out spilling all over your tummy.

Your breathing is heavy your chest expanding as you catch your breath your arms still wrapped tightly around him connecting his chest to yours his own, his arms supporting his weight above you, you instantly release your grip on him scooting back wards forcing Han and Felix to move to.

“Ah, I’m sorry you probably didn’t want me to hold onto you after.” You apologize wrapping your arms around yourself fearing that he must hate you now, Sungwoo hated it whenever you tried to touch him after he came, always shoving you off of him or recoiling in disgust as you reached out to hold him.

Even with him still trying to catch his breath he looks up at you confused, his eyebrows pinching together and his lips curling down to a frown, Felix reaches out to grasp your shoulder but you flinch away from him moving up to the headboard of the bed away from all of them.

You can see all their concerned eyes on you, all of them holding themselves back from crawling up to you and scooping you up into a reassuring hold, “Oh [Y/n], It’s okay.” Chan speaks up pulling himself together so he can better comfort you, now is not the time for misunderstandings.

He slowly moves himself closer to you, your trembling figure curled up away from them holding yourself like you’d break apart any minute, he frowns at this making slow movements allowing you to see where he’s going he doesn’t want to scare you, he’d never hurt you like he did, none of them would.

He gets close enough to grab ahold of your waist pulling you up and onto his lap his hands stroking through your hair as glassy tears roll down your cheeks, he holds you like this until you start to feel too light-headed the world around you slowly turning black as you allow yourself this moment of peace.

Only when you’ve passed out in his arms does he finally look up at the others, Felix is holding onto Jisung his fingers running through his jet-black hair, his glossy brown eyes filling with tears for you, Felix too is tearing up his pretty cotton candy pink eyes showing so much sadness and worry.

The others standing next to the bed look just as concerned for you, Chan can’t help but feel so much adoration and love for these seven men in the room, hell he thinks he may be falling for you too, the sweet girl who has been through so much resting in his arms, your face finally looking at peace as you rest, your cheeks shiny with the tear streaks left on your pink cheeks.

“Hyung can we keep her?” Jeongin speaks up first with an adorable pout on his fox-like features, “Only if that's what everyone wants, including her.” Chan agrees his thumbs stroking your bare skin

They all watch for a moment longer, Minho being the first to walk away and down the hall, they all wear matching confused looks until they hear the water running in the bathroom, the bathtub being filled with hot water. 

Minho watches as the tub fills up making sure the temperature isn't too hot for you, even dares to add a bit of the bubble bath he bought for the youngers into it watching as fluffy bubbles fill the tub along with the water.

His brows furrowed thinking of all the negative ways you reacted, thinking of how you shielded yourself whenever you pushed yourself away, watched as your pretty eyes filled with tears and not ones of pleasure.

He wonders how long you had to deal with your abuser, how long you were stuck hurting.

Back in the room, they all speak in whispers ensuring you're still asleep and going deathly quiet when you squirm in your sleep.

They watch the hand marks on your neck along with the hickeys and Chan's bite slowly fade from your skin, they're sure you're worn out, you deserve rest while they clean you up.

When the tub has filled up Minho walks back, and over to where you're resting against Chan, his arms slowly and carefully slipping under your back and knees lifting you up and walking your sleeping form to the bathroom.

You're dully aware of your body being placed into warm water, the feeling of it washing over your tangled hair along with the gentle but thorough feeling of somebody washing it, your eyes heavy with exhaustion unable to open.

You can hear the thudding of multiple people walking closer to you can feel as another set of hands begin to lightly scrub at your body with a washcloth, the smell of coconut filling your nose before you're blacking out again.

Changbin scrubs at your tummy gently taking care to be gentle with your body, dragging the cloth up your sternum and to the wound on your neck taking extra care to wipe away the trail of blood rolling down to your chest, watching as it dilutes into the water.

They move your pliant body every which way making sure every part of you is clean as if they were washing away your past hurts. When they lift you to scrub at your back they feel as though a bucket of freezing water has been dumped over them.

‘Sungwoo’

The marks are still scabbing over, the skin around it pink and irritated no doubt causing you an uncomfortable amount of pain, the inscribed words aren’t the only thing marking your back, no, whip scars litter your skin some older some fresher bruises accompanying them, making your skin looks like a child colored all over you with blue, red, purple,  and yellow.

Chan felt as though he was going to be sick, watching as mark after mark made an appearance how none of them had noticed earlier is beyond him,

Minho’s hands washing your hair has gone tight, while he knew their saliva could help with fresh cuts there was nothing they could do about your scars, nothing they could do to help erase the pain he’s sure you’ve felt whenever you felt or saw them.

Now he wishes they would’ve made him suffer, made him endure all the pain you went through instead of slitting his throat, if he wasn’t dead already Minho would have tortured him he’s sure the others feel the same way.

Changbin lets his fingers skim over them feels the jagged skin as he makes his way down, making sure he’s extra gentle as he thumbs over the cursed name marking you.

Han and Felix fuming as they watch Changbin’s fingers run down your spine, they can't understand why anyone would want to hurt you, sweet [Y/n] who is amazed by the simplest things.

Similarly, Jeongin and Seungmin think the same things how anyone could hurt you and leave lasting marks is beyond their comprehension, they haven't interacted much with you but you seem like such a sweet soul, you don't deserve this.

And lastly Hyunjin, he doesn't understand it either, he's painted many beautiful things and one day he'd like to include you on that list, so the fact someone practically branded you is unacceptable, of course he believes you're very pretty regardless of any imperfections such as these scars but his hands clench so tightly crimson circles appear on his palms his nails leaving small cuts, the small amount of pain grounding him.

They all share a collective look as if saying ‘Nothing like this will ever happen to her again.’

They’ll make sure of it, they’ll protect you from any harm, they’ll keep you safe, no harm will ever find you. 

Ever again.

_______________________________________________

<--Prev Master list next-->

Please reblog and like if you enjoyed!

taglist: @babygirlskz98 @fr34k4c1dr41n @itzreetal987 @imnotsop @inniesfanblog @heartsbystars

[A/n: There's still room on the taglist if you'd like to join! Hope you enjoyed]

[ph-cutie]

tfw you dont wanna sit on the chair but you maxxed out electrochem instead of volition

[s0fter-sin]

people are acting like we’re saying creators shouldn’t be paid for their work; they absolutely should. and watcher already is. they have a patreon, they get sponsors, their videos regularly get millions of views which gives them ad revenue, they sell merch; they are getting paid. feeling indignant and disappointed that they’re asking us to pay for content we were already getting for free isn’t entitlement, it’s expected. ​they wanted to make bigger produced shows and now their budget can’t sustain it, that’s not on the viewer to make up for