#the second resurrection

[eruhamster]

not to be annoying but i do think a lot of people mischaracterize falin. shes got the most drastic canon v fanon thing going on. which i guess makes sense bc 1. we dont see much of her and 2. lot of the fan stuff are anime-onlies that have seen even less

but i think like a good 90% of the time i see falin-centric art or posts im like hrm hrm hrm thats all wrong no nope no-siree

she's just a cool chick that takes life as it comes, doesn't hold grudges even against a mother that apparently was trying to beat the magic outta her, finds her older brother the coolest person in the world, and has autism about observing life (and death, she loves the ghosts she has a connection to) and nature and taking care of things (including taking care of her brother, which is why she's even in the dungeons; she saw her scrawny mess of a brother and decided she had to fix that).

and i think my favorite part that people don't talk about is... she would have done the same for marcille or laios if it were one of them that was eaten. you could see it in her eyes:

it's what shuro misunderstands about her. it's easy to see her feminine, cute, good girl pieces and forget the rest of her. but she loves things to an ends-of-the-earth extent; the kind of caring that makes you a little insane. and that's how I think she and laios end up on the same page with their weirdness. they have different interests, but they are the same level of committed to those interests.

it's easy to love her, because she probably loves you just as much, if not more.

EDIT: for the love of god stop reblogging this only to add some comment or tag or reply saying 'op you forgot [BLATANTLY FANON INTERPRETATION]'. falin as we know her is not a pushover/people pleaser/infantilized, see this version of my post. also stuff like 'female shuro was in love with laios in the genderbent comic' and 'falin was going to marry shuro because she felt bad' are just things you made up in your head

[scripture-pictures]

[nibbelraz]

before lbh came back to the human realm he asked mobei why he kept the most pathetic sopping wet peak lord about. mbj casually "oh sometimes i ask him things and it literally changes reality." what. mobei what. no seriously what the fuck do you mean. what do you mean he changes reality. what are you talking about. are you serious. are you fucking with him rn fr "he cant change people though" WHY WOULD YOU GET HIS HOPES UP THEN "i believe qinghua calls it a 'power move'."

THE WAY I CAN SEE MOBEI JUST CASUALLY SAYING HE LIKES HAVING A GOD AT HIS SIDE

[elbdot]

I love you Arcane Jesus, can't wait for your resurrection EDIT: Also uhm. I guess I needed to clarify that this is a PAINTINg

[xxplastic-cubexx]

oh noooo or whatever

bonus aka The Real Motive Behind This:

SURPRISE double bonus. textless ver of the first pic under the cut

[ganondoodle]

i tend to forget that speedrunners absolutely demolishing demise within less than a minute often without even giving him the chance to attack more than once is not the norm and it has significantly warped my perception of how hard his bossfight is

[anto-pops]

Envy's Grip - Sylus x Female!Reader

Summary: There was no field guide on how to handle your best friend coming back to life. But in hindsight, maybe keeping it from your crime lord boyfriend wasn’t the best course of action. 

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, rough sex, miscommunication (kind of), a sprinkle of jealous Sylus (or as jealous as he can be, he knows he's fine)

Full fic can also be found here on Ao3

Sylus was perceptive. 

It wasn’t a new trait, by any means. He had always been annoyingly aware of everything. Sometimes it seemed like he knew your own thoughts before you voiced them– though he insisted you were just easy to read and that it had nothing to do with him using his Evol to his advantage. Now was one of those times where you could tell he was scrutinizing you from afar, having picked up on the influx of emotions that overwhelmed your mind and left your body tense. 

Caleb was alive. 

The revelation had left you breathless– utterly at a loss for words as you had stared at him standing before you whole and well. Well, almost whole. The mechanical arm had thrown you for a loop, but it was his eyes that had broken down the wall of doubt between the two of you. Those bright, violet irises silently conveyed a lifetime of emotion that told you then and there that somehow, someway, your childhood friend was back from the dead. 

How the hell were you supposed to go about your day after discovering something like that? 

When Sylus had asked you the day after what had you looking so dreary, you had waved off his concern with a lie. “There’s a mandatory work meeting next weekend. All my plans with Tara are ruined.” 

He had furrowed his brow at that statement, evidently confused as to why he hadn’t heard anything about your weekend plans up until that moment. You were terrible at lying, and it felt awful to do it– especially with Sylus. You had just prayed that he would overlook your nervous behavior and let you get away with it. 

That same day, Sylus’ eyes had narrowed during lunch while you’d chewed your own nails off in favor of the roast he had cooked for the two of you, but you had done your best to play off the anxious habit as something else work related. Then you had jumped– actually jumped– when he’d walked into the living room while you’d zoned out staring at a wall, his sudden presence jerking you back to the present with your heart hammering and your eyes wide. 

“You need to wear a bell,” was all you had said when he’d asked why you were so jumpy. His lips had pursed while he’d worked a muscle in his jaw, opting to keep his innermost thoughts to himself. 

Then there was right now; your form was sloppy, and your shoulder was aching from the lack of control you threw your punches with. The boxing bag hanging from the ceiling of Sylus’ home gym swayed towards you listlessly, the lack of power in your attacks barely causing the chain to rattle the way it normally would. Using your gloved hand, you halted the bag’s momentum, your chest heaving as you drew in deep, steadying breaths to ground yourself. The sweat that dripped down your temples chilled your otherwise heated skin, and you hastily wiped the moisture away using the back of your forearm before swallowing thickly. 

You were a mess.

As you turned to make your way to the edge of the ring for your water bottle, Sylus tracked your movements with predatory-like precision. He didn’t blink, didn’t shift from his spot against the wall. It hardly looked like he was even breathing. The floor to ceiling mirrors that lined the entirety of the gym clued you in on the dark expression that crossed his face the second you turned your back to him, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the air vent overhead snaked its way down your spine. 

“How do I put this nicely…” Sylus’ deep, throaty timbre reverberated off the walls, and you did your best to ignore him as you brought your bottle to your lips. “The way you’re performing now, you’re on par to fight a toddler.” 

Prick. Water dribbled down your chin as you tightened the water cap and set the container down. “That’s what the practice ring is for. Practice. I’m not trying to show out.” 

“No, clearly you’re not. You’re trying to distract yourself.” 

Ever the discerning crime lord. “I’m working out, Sylus. Since when does that require perfect form?” Placing your hands on your hips, you glared at his reflection in the mirror. “More importantly, why are you just standing there watching? It’s weird.” 

He feigned disinterest by looking at his nails, a move that infuriated you as much as it intrigued you. Sylus always looked so effortlessly handsome. The sight of him posted up against the wall with his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest almost distracted you from the rampant thoughts about Caleb that had plagued your brain for the last two days. Almost. “You might be ‘practicing’, but you’re doing yourself a disservice by not utilizing your full potential. That stance is pathetic, and your punches couldn’t hurt a fly. To add insult to injury, you already know all of this.”

“And I really don’t care. Go find Kieran or Luke if you want to criticize someone, I’m not in the mood.”

Sylus went quiet behind you as you began unstrapping your gloves, and a few beats of silence passed before you lifted your gaze back to the mirror. He was staring at you intently, ruby red eyes flickering darkly and narrowing. It wasn’t exactly the expression he wore when he was angry– not when it still hid a sliver of possessive longing within his dark pupils. But even so, it was enough. You felt arousal curling hot in your gut at the sight, and Sylus’ eyes flicked up to your damp hair clinging to your forehead as a wicked smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. 

“Then what are you in the mood for?” Sylus purred the question, pushing off the wall to stalk over to the boxing platform. He shrugged off his jacket as he walked, tossing it haphazardly over the rope barrier before effortlessly hoisting himself up and stepping into the ring. “Want me to leave you alone? Completely? Back off and let you think about your long lost friend in peace?” 

Oh, shit. 

Your mouth fell open at the realization that he knew. How? When had he found out? Your mind whirred with the possibilities and your blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your skin and imbuing you with an overwhelming sense of guilt. It had never been like that with Caleb, but did Sylus know that? Did he think the worst? How much of the impromptu reunion was he aware of? 

“Cat got your tongue, kitten?” He goaded you further, prowling towards you without an ounce of hesitation. You held up your palms towards him as though to stop him, but he captured your smaller hands in his larger ones and threaded your fingers together, pulling you against his chest with a throaty chuckle devoid of any humor. “Did you really think I didn’t know why you’ve been so out of it lately?” 

“Sylus, I–” you stopped yourself, indignant anger taking root as you realized he had somehow invaded your privacy. “Did you follow me? You ass! How do you even know about that?”

He ignored your pointed line of questioning and pressed on with his brows furrowed. “Were you ever planning on telling me? Or would you have kept quiet and silently debated on whether or not rushing back to his side is a good plan?”

“What? Don’t you dare turn this back on me, you spied on me!” 

“I was in the city on business. Nothing special, but I wanted to stop by to see you once I was done. Imagine my surprise when I saw you in the park with him on the way to my meeting.” 

You tsk’d in annoyance, rolling your eyes in disbelief. “Business. It’s always business with you. Why does it matter that I didn’t immediately run to you to fess up about my friend not being dead?” 

“Because you lied to me.” The way he growled the blatant fact made your retort die in your throat. The anger that had burned hot in your veins cooled instantly, and you blanched as Sylus continued icily. “Taking your time to process it? That I can understand. But you looked me right in my eyes and came up with some half-assed excuse about work. You didn’t trust me with this, even though we agreed we would always be honest with one another.” 

You stammered, “Sylus, wait– I wasn’t–” 

He let go of one of your hands to capture your chin in his firm grip, forcing your eyes to meet his as he stared down at you. His hold wasn’t painful, but it was unrelenting, and the angle left you wholly at his mercy as he slipped his other hand around your back to hold you flush to him. “You weren’t what? Keeping secrets? Giving me unwarranted attitude?”

“None of this is your business!” You jerked your head out of his hold and wedged your hands between the two of you, shoving him away so abruptly that the tiniest grunt escaped his lips. Your eyes were frantic as you exclaimed, “I wouldn’t have left– I just– dammit! Just give me a minute here!”

He gave you ten seconds of uninterrupted silence. The tense kind that set your teeth on edge and made your skin crawl. Then you looked back at him, shocked to discover an icy cool expression painted across his sharp features. The unyielding wall that had existed between you both when you’d first met had been reconstructed in record time, the lack of warmth in his eyes speaking volumes of how he really felt. 

“Take all the time you need, Miss Hunter.” 

When he turned his back to you and started towards the ropes, your heart nearly gave out as your stomach plummeted into your feet. He couldn’t walk away from this– not after he had implied the worst without letting you explain. You had no clue how he even knew about Caleb, but clearly Sylus assumed your relationship with him was something more, and it scared you to think that your lover doubted you. Worse, that he doubted himself. 

Your body acted of its own accord, carrying you forward fast enough that you were able to coil your fingers around Sylus’ thick wrist. He stopped dead in his tracks, but he didn’t turn to look at you. On instinct, you darted around him so you were standing before him, then rose up onto the tips of your toes so you could crush your lips to his. 

Sylus’ reaction was slow; he inhaled sharply before his hands slowly came to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as an animalistic growl resonated from deep within his chest. He stepped closer to you, blindly leading you towards the edge of the ring until you felt your back press against the ropes, and Sylus used the newfound barrier to his advantage and rolled his hips against yours while his tongue delved deeper into your mouth. It was equal parts suffocating and exhilarating. Your every sense was overtaken by him– his heady scent, the muscular feeling of him, the guttural sounds he made as he devoured you. 

Sylus’ lips trailed away from yours to mouth wetly at your jaw, and your head fell back as a raspy moan escaped you when he ground his hips into you. The hard length of him was tangible through his dress pants, and the thin pair of leggings you wore did little to deter the feeling. Your hands drifted down his toned biceps and along his taut stomach before your fingers curled tellingly over his belt buckle. The tug you gave the leather material was ardent, your desires taking over your better judgement. Rational thinking had suggested you talk things out with Sylus like adults. To speak to him about loyalty and remind him that he had nothing to worry about as far as Caleb was concerned. 

But bringing up Caleb right now was the absolute last thing you wanted to do. Fucking like adults might also do the trick. 

An airy whimper sounded from you as Sylus roughly brushed your hands away from his belt, taking control of the situation and yanking your sweat-soaked t-shirt over your head. Your sports-bra went next, and the peaks of your breasts pebbled in response to the cold air surrounding you. When you blinked up at the man through hazy eyes, his own orbs were dark and hooded, and the way he licked his lips made you want to kiss him again badly. You weren’t far gone enough to think you deserved it yet, though– not even when Sylus leaned forward to start mouthing down your throat, his tongue trailing against your sweat-slick skin as he descended lower and lower. 

Just when you thought Sylus would end up on his knees in front of you, he was back to his full height. He wasted little time taking you by the hips and assertively guiding you down to the floor of the boxing ring. Dazed, you blinked up at the white haired man, staring at him long enough to catch sight of the strained expression he hid behind his calm facade. It almost looked like he was pained. It confused you, but questioning it wasn’t possible once Sylus shuffled down to settle between your legs. 

You felt his blunt nails scrape against your hip bones as he tugged your panties and leggings away, tossing both of them aside before laying flat between your bent knees. He wasn’t looking at you. He wasn’t talking with you the way he normally would when the two of you were intimate. In fact, there wasn’t anything that was intimate about this aside from you being fully exposed to him. There he was, fully clothed between your legs and inches away from your womanhood, and yet not a lick of warmth emanated from him. 

Suddenly, your morose thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of Sylus licking a broad, flat stripe up your slit, your breath catching as the man took care to add a sinful amount of pressure to your bundle of nerves. 

“Fuck,” you managed to wheeze, your hands flying to Sylus’ soft locs as he wrapped his lips around your clit, then sucked hard enough that your back arched off the floor. Another rough moan escaped you as Sylus splayed his fingers against the underside of your thigh and dug his nails into the tender flesh there. He did the same with your other leg, and the bruising strength he held your legs apart with was something that enticed you as much as it confused you. 

Make no mistake: rough sex with Sylus was always phenomenal, and it was most definitely something you enjoyed partaking in. But there was a missing puzzle piece here– something irregular that had your heart weighing heavy in your chest as you gazed breathlessly to the ceiling. 

You wished Sylus would say something. He hadn’t since you had grabbed for him just minutes prior, nor had he let you undress him like you’d wanted to. The disappointing memory of him crudely swatting your hands away from his belt returned to you then and imbued you with a lingering sense of remorse. Shit, you would settle for him just looking at you by this point. Anything other than the cold, rigid version of your lover before you now. 

Unbeknownst to your internal turmoil, Sylus sat back on his haunches and slid his hands to your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach and allowing for him to manhandle your legs apart. Part of you wanted to protest against the position, but then you felt your lover begin to mouth hotly down your spine and press chaste kisses to your warm skin, and your inhibitions started to melt. It was the first real show of Sylus’ softer side. The gentle press of his index finger against your entrance further derailed your train of thought, and as Sylus slowly breached your fluttering walls with the digit, you couldn’t help but breathe out a soft moan.  

The tenderness left you shaking– trembling–  for more. 

As Sylus started to pump his finger slowly, he took care to remain incredibly attentive to the way you wriggled and keened for more, your face half-buried in the crook of your arm. His free hand came to rub soothing circles against your hip as he gingerly added a second finger to join the first, and the tantalizing stretch had you gasping and squeezing your eyes shut. “F-Fuck, Sylus,” you mumbled, the words muffled slightly by your own arm pressed against your lips. 

You felt Sylus lean forward, his warm breath fanning across your ear as he asked, “Does it feel good?” 

You rocked your hips back onto the fingers easing you open, nodding and gasping breathlessly as the crime lord pressed against your inner walls incessantly in search of that one spot he knew would reduce you to a babbling mess. It didn’t take long for him to find it. Before long, Sylus slid his fingers deeper and curled them up, and the sudden jolt of pleasure that ran through you caused you to mewl your lover's name loudly. 

Taking your reactions as his cue, Sylus proceeded to work you with his fingers faster, brushing the pads of his digits over that magical spot within you every time without fail. The overwhelming sensations left your body quaking as fiery hot arousal coursed through your veins, the beginnings of your climax festering in your gut. As blissful as it was, you had no desire to end things like this; on your knees and with your back to Sylus while he used his damn hands to undo you. 

Blearily, you pushed yourself up with your arms, craning your head around to stare at the man through your lashes. “C-Come on, Sylus,” you implored him weakly. “Please?” 

Sylus met your gaze for the briefest of moments, his eyes dancing away before you could get a good look at him. He mercifully withdrew his fingers, trailing the appendages against your inner thighs and inducing a wave of goosebumps along your skin, then sat back to begin removing his clothing. It was methodical– swift, even. All you could do was watch in the reflection of the mirror as Sylus stripped himself bare without your aid, tossing his clothes off to the side of the boxing ring before returning to his kneeled position behind you. 

Sighing, you ran your hand through your hair dejectedly, accepting that Sylus’ colder nature was your own fault. How could you blame him? Beyond keeping the truth about Caleb from him, you had pushed him away when he’d tried to get close to you. It didn’t look good for you, and you found yourself lowering yourself back to the ground with your face buried in the crook of your arm. Whether you were hiding from Sylus or your own embarrassment, you didn’t know. 

As Sylus lined himself up with your wet entrance, the tiniest sigh escaped him when the blunt head of his cock rubbed softly against you. His firm, warm hands settled on your hips as he asked, “Ready?” 

You could sass him, or rush him along, or just generally be an ass to him in response to him being so closed off, but you didn’t. The air between the two of you was different than it was before, even though Sylus was keeping all his sweetness to himself. You told yourself that you didn’t deserve it anyways and nodded shakily. 

At your confirmation, Sylus sighed and squeezed your hips, then began to sink his thick, perfect cock deep inside of you with slow, gentle thrusts. You gasped and hid your face in your arms, rocking back onto the larger man as you muffled needy little noises against your skin. When Sylus bottomed out, he moaned and ran his hands up your sides, over your ribs, so gentle and so fucking nice that you kind of wished he would just rail you through the floor of the ring. How amazingly soft he was being while distancing himself was making your chest ache. 

It didn’t last long, thankfully. When Sylus gave an experimental roll of his hips and found you more than a little eager for his cock, he groaned and pulled back farther before ramming his dick into you, and the way you cried out for it covered the throaty moan that had escaped his lips. The crime lord set the pace just like that; hard and fast, impaling you and wringing gasping cries out of you easily. The arch of your back let Sylus’ cock slide along your sweet spot with every rough thrust, and the feeling had your eyes fucking crossing. 

It was too good. Your thoughts were crashing, noisy moans sounding from you freely. You were entirely sure you were drooling all over the padding of the ring’s floor, but you didn’t really care when Sylus was fucking you so thoroughly. The fingers digging into your hips pulled you back hard even as Sylus pounded his cock into your wet, tight heat, leaving you completely and utterly helpless for it. 

You didn’t know if Sylus had a cruel streak or a merciful one, because eventually he peeled one hand off of your hip and wound it immediately into your hair, and then you knew you were fucked. So very fucked. And not just by the cock driving you crazy. 

Sylus yanked your hair– just a little on the side of painful– and you couldn’t help the way you fucking wailed Sylus’ name, your thighs shaking and your hips slamming back into his fast thrusts. When he pulled again, you obediently scrambled up onto your weak hands, your shoulders trembling and your stomach churning with wanton pleasure. Sylus leaned down and moaned in your ear, his grip on your hair unrelenting as he urged, “Say my name, say my name for me, come on…” 

You didn’t even have to think about it. You leaned your head back against Sylus’ shoulder and gasped his name over and over, your voice pitched high and desperate from the way his cock owned you so perfectly. Sylus’ soft sounds were driving you mad for him, eager to hear his voice again, to hear the white haired man tell you how good you were. The hand pulling at your hair made it impossible to form words, though, save for the increasingly needy cries of Sylus’ name and shaky iterations of please, please, please. 

The floor of the boxing ring creaked as Sylus pressed the two of you back down against its surface to speed up, his hips slapping against your ass so aggressively that you couldn’t help but scream for him, the pleas coming in shaking sobs. 

Even though Sylus was so thoroughly possessing you and fucking his cock straight into your cervix, something was still keeping you from getting close. It felt so good, absolutely amazing, but you couldn’t finish like this. Not when Sylus was biting his lip against his own noisy moans. Not when Sylus hadn’t said your name once this entire time. Not when Sylus had yet to look you in the eyes. 

Whining, you turned your head forward so you could look at him in the reflection of the mirror straight ahead. The muscles of his back rippled with effort as he continued pumping his hips, and his own forehead was pressed into your shoulder so he didn’t have to look at you. The change in your breathy sounds caught his attention, however, and Sylus slowed his hips to a rough grind to give the two of you a damn break. He finally lifted his dark, fucked-out gaze to yours, and proceeded to finally made eye contact with you in the mirror. Even hazy with lust, you could still pick out the hurt in Sylus’ eyes. 

You had put that there. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, you whimpered and spread your fingers out against the padded floor, an unspoken invitation. After a long moment of consideration, Sylus mouthed at your sweat-slick shoulder and carefully unwound his fingers from your tangled hair to twine them together with yours. You gripped his hand tight and shivered for him, rocking back into now-gentle thrusts with a soft moan of his name. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you breathed, looking back at Sylus from over your shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sylus.” 

He stilled then, his free hand moving to tenderly brush your sweaty bangs out of your eyes. He didn’t respond yet, though, instead pulling out entirely to ease you over onto your back. 

Winding your violently trembling legs loosely around his waist, you wiggled as Sylus leaned back over you and aligned himself with your throbbing center once again. When he slid home, it was slow and easy, leaving the two of you gasping. To make things even better, Sylus reached over to grab both of your hands before lacing your fingers together again, balancing easily on his elbows so his chest was nearly flush to yours. It was so close, so damn intimate, and so much better than you deserved that you couldn’t even begin to hope for anything more. 

Sylus was so kind, though. He was thoughtful and courteous and so damn sweet, and he nudged your nose with his own before he finally kissed you again, thank god. You whimpered pitifully, squeezing his hands while he slid his tongue easily between your lips, deepening the kiss and drawing a keening moan from your sore throat. 

This time, Sylus’ thrusts were steady and slow, following an even tempo that left you sputtering against his lips. 

It was a world apart from earlier. Before, Sylus had been fucking you, marking you like you were his territory, holding back even as he let loose some wild, animalistic part of himself brought on by you pushing him away. 

Now, by some grace from god or by virtue of Sylus’ incredible capacity for dealing with your shit, it was like he was making love to you, his cock continuing to fill you up so good but just slow enough that you had time to understand how amazing he made you feel. Sort of. As much as you could understand when you were whispering Sylus’ name against his lips, your voice still rough from screaming and hitching audibly when he thrusted into you. 

You swallowed thickly to coat your dry throat, then opened your eyes to stare up at him again. 

Sylus had pulled back enough that he could see the faces you were making perfectly, how flushed your cheeks were, and how watery your eyes were. Being watched so intimately caused you to flush darker, and you closed your eyes again and arched your back with a broken groan when Sylus’ cock slid over your sweet spot once again. 

“Sylus,” you moaned, sliding your thighs further up his sides and spreading them wider. “Sylus, you’re so good…”

You felt as Sylus bumped your noses together again, squeezing your hands with a contented sigh. You were more than okay with the pace things were moving at, especially once your lover brushed his lips against your cheeks so incredibly tenderly and thrust deeper into you. Spine rounding again, you let loose a shuddering gasp before your mouth fell open with an airy whisper of Sylus’ name. 

“You look so good like this,” Sylus purred, the sound of his voice sending you reeling once again. It was beyond unfair how Sylus had you wrapped around his finger. You instinctively tightened around his cock, and the lecherous moan the action pulled from him made your stomach flip. He chuckled softly shortly thereafter and squeezed your hands again, “So pretty, you know that, kitten? And you take me so well, with the prettiest little noises. God, the noises you make…” 

You were losing your fucking mind. You rolled your head to the side with a bitten-back whimper, your body rocking perfectly into Sylus’ thrusts. There was no way you could have known that the way Sylus whispered to you would set you so on edge, but you had missed it so badly in the seemingly endless period of time you’d had to go without it. Sylus’ praises made you so hot, so damn brainless that you didn’t know what to do with yourself, and the bastard knew it. When Sylus sped up, you were still helpless– still unable to do anything other than gasp your lover’s name into the humid air between you both. 

Even as he smiled down at you and chuckled at the way you fell apart, Sylus’ own voice was growing breathier, his moans louder. Apparently you weren’t the only one so deeply affected. 

“I can feel you getting close, kitten,” Sylus moaned against you, his hips moving in deep, quick thrusts that filled you up easily. You licked your lips and cracked open your bleary eyes to watch as Sylus’ brows pinched together in response to your walls clamping down on his cock harder. With a stammered moan of your name, Sylus’ head drooped between his shoulders as he murmured, “You feel incredible. You’re so good for me.” 

That was what you needed more than anything. Sylus moaning your name while his thrusts picked up with more force, his teeth worrying his lip as he fought against his bone-deep urge to finish. Your name spoken by Sylus would forever be your favorite sound, and hearing it now was driving you straight to the edge and building your orgasm up quickly in your gut. Your moans spiked into breathy cries, your muscles tensing and twitching in earnest. Unable to stop yourself, you started to beg, “S-Sylus, Sylus, I’m almost– I’m– please, Sylus–”

Sylus obliged your senseless word babble. He untangled your fingers from his so he could sit up on his heels, looping his arms under your back to bring you with him. With you balanced easily in his lap, Sylus kept one arm around your midsection while the other came to grip your hip before he started thrusting again, his cock angling up and hitting you so deep and so perfect that you were certain you were seeing stars. Your hands flew frantically to Sylus’ toned shoulders, your nails digging in for purchase as that telltale sensation in the pit of your stomach grew stronger and more potent. 

Once Sylus breathed your name again, his voice trailing off into a raspy, rumbling moan, it was more than enough to carry you over the edge. 

Your breasts pressed into Sylus’ chest as your spine arched, your climax crashing over you violently and rendering your brain useless. Sylus groaned long and loud as you clenched impossibly further around his cock, and as you clung desperately to him and buried your face into the crook of his neck, he managed to thrust once, then twice, before he came with a shuddering groan. 

Sylus curled around you possessively and ground against you mindlessly, his large hands gripping you so tightly that you were certain they would leave bruises in their wake. He continued to mumble your name breathlessly into your ear as the two of you came down together, and eventually you were able to think through the pleasured fog that still tinged your vision. 

You continued to breathe heavily, your limbs shaking and twitching as you clenched your eyes shut and continued to hide your looming shame in the crook of Sylus’ neck. The only thing that pulled you out of your makeshift cocoon was the feeling of the larger man’s lips pressing against the top of your head, and you jolted almost violently at the attention. 

“Damn, sweetie,” Sylus said roughly, his hand trailing up your bare back to hold the nape of your neck. “You’re still shaking an awful lot. Are you alright?” 

You were silent for a long time, trying and failing to get your breathing under control again while Sylus simply cradled you. There was nothing you wanted more than to keep holding him, to keep him from leaving you and walking away, but as the dust settled around the two of you, you remembered how bad you had actually fucked up. So you waited for Sylus to release you, to stop mumbling sweet nothings into the top of your head, to banish you from his home entirely and send you back to Linkon City. 

But he didn’t do any of those things. He surprised you by lowering his own head so it was right beside yours, using his chin to gently nudge you out of your hiding spot in his shoulder so he could look at you. “I’m going to need an answer, sweetie, because I’m becoming increasingly worried that I hurt you.” 

“I’m sorry, Sylus,” you mumbled, avoiding meeting his gaze in favor of directing your words to his chest. Your voice was meek and pitiful, and your lower lip trembled as you tried and failed to fight the influx of tears that welled in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

At first, Sylus was quiet. You felt his arms slide away from your back, and for a split second you were convinced that he was going to shove you away and end things with you then and there. But then his hands reappeared between the two of you, tentatively cupping your jaw to angle your face up at him. He looked at you curiously, sweeping his thumb under your eyes to catch the stray tears that slipped down your cheeks. His voice was calm and gentle when he finally asked, “What exactly are you apologizing for?” 

“For lying to you. For saying those hurtful things. I know I was overwhelmed by Caleb just… showing up the way he did, but that was no excuse for being so cruel to you.” You swallowed, your brow furrowing as you stared up at the literal love of your life and became overtaken by a fresh dose of remorse. “I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want Caleb. I don’t want you to think that you’ve been some replacement for him this entire time because I never had feelings like that for him. I should have been honest from the jump instead of getting so defensive. I’m really, really sorry, Sylus.” 

Sylus seemed to mull your confession over– always so careful about picking his words. It was a trait that you could certainly stand to learn from, if only you could manage to stop talking out of your ass for five seconds. 

“I didn’t exactly broach the subject with you delicately,” he admonished with a grimace. “I didn’t stop to consider that your childhood friend was back from the dead. I just assumed the worst and jumped head first into the conversation with that thought driving me. So for that, I’m sorry.” 

A watery smile stretched across your face, and you wrapped your arms around Sylus’ waist with your ear pressed against his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing your previously frayed nerves. “So does this mean you forgive me?” 

To your mild surprise, Sylus laughed. Softly, and far from the mean-spirited kind. He returned your embrace eagerly, tracing small circles against your back with his fingers as he shook his head to himself. “There’s hardly that much to forgive. You’ve said worse things to me in the past, remember?” 

“Don’t make me beg. Just answer the question.” 

“Yes, kitten. I forgive you.” 

Sighing contentedly, you felt Sylus press a quick kiss to your forehead before holding you tighter to him, then he rose swiftly and easily, not at all slowed down by hoisting you up along with him. You yelped a little in alarm and wrapped your legs around his waist, entirely at his mercy as he somehow managed to duck under the ropes of the boxing ring with you coiled around him like a baby monkey. “Where are we going?” 

“To shower. I have every intention of making the most of your apologetic mood. And I think I might like to see you beg a little.” 

You sat upright in his firm hold, placing your hand on his chest to put a modicum of space between the two of you. “But you said you forgave me! What about Luke and Kieran?! Your room is on the other side of the house– Sylus, we’re naked!” 

Undeterred, Sylus flashed you his trademark smirk– the one that never failed to lower your inhibitions. “Oh, I forgive you. But since I have heard worse things from you before, the way I see it is you can go ahead and earn some more forgiveness while you’re at it.” 

Anxious beyond belief at the prospect of the twins seeing you in the nude, you shoved at Sylus more and scrambled to get out of his hold. He was having none of it, however, and swiftly readjusted his grip so he could toss you over his shoulder, your rear on full display in the event anyone crossed paths with the two of you. When you frantically started kicking your legs and hitting his back, he returned the motion with a playful slap to your ass that pulled a loud yelp from your lips. 

You loved the man with all your heart. You truly couldn’t fathom yourself ever leaving him, nor could you imagine your life without him. He brought a certain excitement to your otherwise dull day-to-day that you treasured and valued endlessly. 

But be that as it may, you were so, so going to kill him for this. 

[trianglesand]

Marble hornets x Slendermansion AU but instead of Hoodie and Masky being proxies they also live in a small cabin in the same woods and are constantly trying to sabotage the creeps plans. Hoodie learns Jeff is supposed to kill some random family and follows him there to purposely set the home security system off and Masky jumps out of the closet and tackles Jeff. They all run away to their own homes afterwards when the cops are called. The Operator/Slenderman could put a stop to it if he so pleased, but finds the shenanigans amusing.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

It will never stop being funny to me that the Titan's Tower incident between Jason and Tim happened right after fucking Jericho did the exact same thing but was way, WAY scarier about it.

JERICHO repeatedly attacks them, endangers civilians, possesses multiple people, is out of his head with rage and sorrow at feeling expendable and feeling like teen vigilantism was what got him and Donna killed. Hell he even shoots Bart through the leg, which fucks him up so bad he has to go through unanesthetized surgery and that trauma prompts a whole ass character growth spurt! Jericho both while possessing Slade and when they fight him in Raven's mind trap thing is like seriously bad news! He's playing for keeps and intent on really hurting them! It takes a full team effort over multiple comics to trap the guy

Then fucking JASON sneaks in ever so carefully, knocks a few of them out, feels a bit bad about even doing that, and has like a waffle house parking lot fist fight with Tim in a party city Robin costume. And what's he do afterwards? He just fucking leaves and never bothers them again! He doesn't wanna kill any of them! He's just a sad wet sack who doesn't know what he's doing with himself

The Teen Titans really do gather around Timmy after their fight lookin at that wall like, "Fucking seriously?? This is the second time this week!"

[sangrefae]

does anyone else spend a concerning about of time thinking abt laios being the one to kill chimera falin or am i just unwell

[anassemblageofpassions]

Supernatural: hmmm okay so we need a way to show Jack how bad Lucifer is, something really horrible to force him to confess to, something that will make him drop his father forever….hmm, what could we do, what could we do….

Sam, life ruined all for Lucifer, possessed by Lucifer, tortured by him for centuries, multiple attempts on his life by lucifer, loved by jack like a father, main character on the show for 13 seasons, literally in the room when this happens:

Dean: multiple attempts on his life by Lucifer, loved by jack like a father, main character on the show for 13 seasons, literally in the room when this happens:

Castiel: killed by Lucifer multiple times, possessed by Lucifer, loved by jack like a father, main character on the show for 9 seasons, literally in the room when this happens:

Maggie: killed by Lucifer, met jack two episodes ago and barely interacted with him, literally introduced on the show two episodes ago, not in the room when this happens:

Supernatural: yes. Maggie is the one. Maggie is the one who will make Jack see what a monster his father TRULY is. She is such an important character on this show, so important than we will kill her off permanently less than a season later. Her impact is so real.

[one-little-nerd-stayed-home]

Y'know I'm still thinking about Shepard's resurrection because after the initial wtf wears off, after you’ve resigned yourself to your cerberus crew, recruited a few people you feel you can halfway trust and maybe even one or two you know have your back - then you wind up on Illium and Liara pays your docking fees and you're kind of excited because hallelujah someone you know. Someone you trust!

And then you find out she's the one who put you here in the first place.

I keep thinking about being rebuilt by your enemies. Accepting the fact that they found you first, that this is just how it is. How it was always going to be - and then finding out one of the people you trusted. Maybe even one of the people you loved was the one who gave your body to them in the first place.

I think it's just that sometimes the good things fuck you up worse than the bad ones because it's good to not be dead right? To be loved to such an extreme that someone would go to those lengths to have you back… That’s a gift isn’t it? Nevermind what it does to you right?

You can admit to yourself, to others that the bad things were bad. But Isn’t it good to have a healed body and advanced cybernetics and all of the strength and skill with none of the scars you’ve earned through your life? Aren't you grateful to be alive? Aren't you happy to be loved? Aren't you proud to be brought back to save lives?

Does it matter whether you are or not?

I dunno dude it just fucks me up.

[fourswords]

ezlo followed vaati out of the minish world immediately after vaati stole the cap and so when he gets back after the adventure, after everything is said and done, he's going to have to clean out vaati's room. i think about that sometimes. it was never explicitly said within the game but in the manga vaati does live with ezlo and i think that the same would go for the gameverse side of things as well because "apprentices living with their masters" is a pretty common thing. so vaati had a room. and ezlo is going to have to clean it out. because vaati dies at the end of the game. and it's just. head in my hands

[thevioletcaptain]

🤠🎶🌬️

Thanks for the prompt, anon! I hope you enjoy, and I’m sorry it took so long for me to fill. You can also read here on Ao3 💚

Deus Ex Caschina

Dean/Cas | 2k words | Mature When Dean and Sam get into a bad situation on an impromptu hunt near the Cuevas Ranch in New Mexico, Dean calls on Cas for help.

There’s something whistling out in the desert; a shrill, two-note call that starts high and ends low and makes all the hairs on Dean’s forearms stand on end.

Even knowing that whistling back is the worst possible thing he could do, he feels the impulse ricocheting through his body. He tamps it down. Hard. Presses his lips together and waits for the compulsion to pass.

Beside him, Sam has gone stock-still, eyes sharp and jaw tense as he scans the dark for some sign of the — well. Whatever it is.

Why he thinks he’s going to be able to see a damn thing beyond the fire-lit edges of their camp is a mystery, but Dean doesn’t bother to mention it. More likely than not, he’s not even thinking that far. A lot of the time, Dean knows, it’s less about having any real hope of success and more about the need to feel as though you’re at least doing something. Anything at all.

Because really, when it comes down to the cold hard facts? They’re helpless out here.

Sitting ducks, waiting for whichever desert-dwelling monster has been picking off the local horses — and most recently, an extremely unfortunate veterinarian — to stop toying with them like a cat batting a mouse from one side of a room to the other.

They’d found the case entirely by accident. Had been passing through New Mexico on their way back to the bunker when Dean had heard a familiar voice while waiting for his order at the Watrous Coffee House. He’d glanced toward the door, scanning faces, and found Cesar Cuevas talking with an older guy in dusty flannel.

Within the hour, he and Sam had been sitting in the kitchen of Jesse and Cesar’s ranch house going over the scant clues the retired hunters had managed to pull together in the days since a local vet — a well-liked guy named Petey — had been found on the edge of the neighboring acreage with his insides on the outside.

It’s not a lot.

Like the three horses which had suffered similar fates in the week before Petey died, there wasn’t any sign of a fight. No scuff marks in the ground to suggest he’d been dragged there after.

The local cops determined pretty quickly that the remains were in line with those left behind by a mountain lion and closed the case.

"Because of the missing spinal columns," Cesar had explained, his nose crinkling up in disgust. "Cougars tend to go for that first, and Petey and the horses were all… well. You get the idea."

"So what makes you think they're wrong?" Sam asked.

"Besides the fact that they're cops?" Jesse had snarked back, and Dean snorted. "No bite or claw marks, no paw prints, no scat, for starters."

"And this," Cesar added, handing over a long chunk of glittering stone. It only took Dean a moment to realize why it seemed familiar.

"Fulgurite?" he'd asked, handing it off to his brother, and Jesse and Cesar had nodded. "Any lightning storms lately?

"Not in months. And we found these at every site."

"Any idea what it means?"

"No clue."

"And that's all you've got so far?" Sam had asked, and the pair had nodded.

"Yup," Jesse said. "That's all."

That was six days ago, now, and though they've found a little more evidence, they're still stumped. Hence the camp out. Dean wasn't keen on it — camping isn't his bag on a good day, let alone when there's something eviscerating everything it can get it's hands on in the area — but after days of dead ends, and two more dead horses, they're beyond the point of putting it off.

Staring out past the creosote and cactus that edge their campsite, and knowing full well that he'd have just as much luck with his eyes closed, Dean listens for some other sound that might tell him what they're dealing with. Where it is.

Nothing. Just the distant pop of a car backfiring, and the tiny blinking lights of a plane flying east to west overhead. He's ready to give up when the whistle comes again.

Hiiiiiiiigh-low.

Shrill and sharp. It seems to come from somewhere straight ahead, and Dean strains to see. Strains and strains until his eyes start to sting.

He needs to blink.

…why the fuck can't he blink?

He tries to tell Sam, but his jaw feels wired shut. His tongue heaves against nothing, unmoving in his mouth as if pressed flat by some invisible force. He can’t speak. Can’t move.

He has the brief, panicked thought that he might not be able to breathe, but it passes. His lungs expand. Deflate. Expand.

Whatever is doing this, it doesn't want him dead.

Yet, he thinks, and the panic sets back in, dialed to eleven. It doesn't want me dead yet.

Thanks to the way they're standing, he's only peripherally aware of the side of Sam’s face, but it seems that he is experiencing the same problem. Great. Awesome.

Another whistle. Dean's skin prickles head-to-toe. Itches, like he's brushed up against fiberglass. His vision blurs as his eyes water with the agony of it, of being so goddamn itchy that he can't think, but utterly incapable of doing anything about it.

Another whistle.

Closer, now, but this time it's behind them. A little to the right.

Suddenly, the fact that there was never any evidence of a struggle makes a lot more sense. It's not that the thing is fast, or even particularly sneaky. It’s just been doing this. Rendering its victims incapable of fighting, moving, making a sound.

If they were anyone else, they’d be screwed right now.

If they were anyone else.

Cas, he prays, grateful beyond words for the angel on his shoulder and his freshly-reinstated wings. We’re in a bit of a situation here, buddy.

Another whistle.

Closer, still.

Another.

Then;

SNAP.

A wet crunch and a sound like a hose unravelling.

Cas, I really fucking hope that's you, Dean prays again, trying not to let himself imagine that a spinal column might make that sound if it were being yanked out of a living creature.

A whistle. Distressed gurgling.

THUD.

Footsteps crunching closer, and—

"Dean," Cas strides into his view, concern etched into his brow, his face spattered with blood. The wet droplets reflect the crackling fire, making him glitter in a way that should not be hot, but somehow really is. "That creature was about to kill you. Why didn't you call me sooner?"

You said you wanted to spend the week with Jack, Dean prays. I didn't want to interrupt Heaven stuff.

Cas frowns. Reaches out to touch Dean's jaw. His body floods with warmth as Cas' grace works whatever paralytic agent he'd been afflicted with from his system, and though he's been able to breathe the entire time, he sucks in a breath. Relaxes his muscles that feel as though he's been tensing them for a solid hour.

Fuck, he's gonna need a massage tomorrow. He can already tell he's gonna be feeling it in about three hours.

"'Heaven stuff' can wait. And Jack is God. He has plenty to occupy himself when I'm on Earth."

"Yeah, I know. I just… I feel like I've been monopolizing your time since you got back, that's all."

"It's not monopolizing my time when you're the person I wish to spend my time with," Cas reminds him. "Besides, I thought we agreed that if I was taking time off from hunting, you would too? You were supposed to be driving straight back to the bunker. I would have stayed to make the drive with you if I'd known you'd be putting yourself in danger."

"We were driving back. But then we ran into Jesse and Cesar, and they told us about this thing that had been— look, it's a long story, okay? And hey, you saved the day. So, y'know. All's well that ends well."

Cas huffs and crosses his arms. Unfortunately for him, Dean thinks the display is more cute than it is imposing.

"I'd prefer you didn't need saving in the first place."

"Well, yeah, obviously," Dean tells him. He glances over his shoulder. "What was it, anyway? Thing had a killer freeze ray."

"I'm not entirely sure," Cas admits, and Dean steps forward, pulling his sleeve down over his hand and wiping the dark blood off of Cas' cheek.

"But you killed it," he says.

"I did. It was projecting its intentions rather strongly. It was going to eat your spine, and then most of your organs. I couldn't allow it to live."

"My hero," Dean tells him, then, a brainwave; "Deus ex Caschina."

He grins wide, and Cas rolls his eyes. Waves a hand to zap the rest of the blood away. Dean takes that as his cue to properly express his appreciation.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he says.

Try as he might, Cas can't keep the displeased frown on his face when Dean pushes into his space and kisses him. He does still manage to sound huffy when he says you're welcome, Dean, but the tilt of his mouth softens the bite.

"So, is Jack expecting you back upstairs tonight?" Dean asks, nipping lightly at his lip. "I'd kinda like to repay you for the assist. Get on my knees, say a prayer of thanks, maybe get my mouth on your—"

"Sam!" Cas blurts out, and Dean leans back, making a disgusted face, before he realizes what Cas is saying. Unwinding his arms from around Cas' shoulders, he turns to look at his brother as Cas makes his way over to him. He's still stock-still, eyes wide and pleading as he stares into the middle distance somewhere beyond Dean's shoulder.

"Oops," Dean grimaces. "Forgot we weren't alone."

"He started praying," Cas says by way of explanation, and boops Sam in the middle of his forehead. "My apologies for the delay, Sam. I was… momentarily distracted."

Stretching out his jaw, Sam shakes his long limbs as if to make sure they're all still functional.

"It's fine," he tells Cas, nice as pie, before turning a glare on Dean. "Maybe next time make sure everyone is alive and functional before you start macking on your boyfriend."

"We actually decided on 'partner'," Dean corrects him, mostly just to be annoying, and Sam narrows his eyes.

"Really?" he says flatly.

Dean knows he's just pissy about the whole left-in-a-frozen-state situation, but Cas — wonderful, badass, occasionally too literal for his own good Cas — moves back to stand at Dean's side, and Dean knows, immediately, that he's about to tell Sam why they settled on the term. He wishes he were filming the reaction, but there's no way he'd be able to get his phone unlocked in time.

"Yes," Cas says proudly. "Partners. Like cowboys, but married."

"You're not married," Sam says, incapable of well-actuallying no matter the circumstance, and— here comes the kicker, Dean thinks.

"We got married in 2013," Cas says. Matter of fact. Like Sam's forgotten something everyone knows. Sam's eyebrows rise high enough that they somehow seem to clear his forehead.

"What?"

"Admittedly, we weren't in a romantic or sexual relationship yet, and it was mostly to ensure that if I were to wind up in hospital as a human, Dean would be able to visit me without any difficulty. Though obviously now we can both acknowledge that we were very much in love with one another at the time."

"What?"

Dean whistles. High-low. It does the trick, snapping Sam out of his stupor, and after his snap-reaction of fear dissipates, Dean clears his throat. Points toward their campsite.

"Hey, uh… maybe we should pack all this up, head back to the ranch before it gets too late? I know the uh… the thing is gone, but the insects are not. So…"

"I can't believe you got married without telling me," Sam says.

"Oh my god, it was over a decade ago, get over it," Dean says.

Sam does not laugh.

"Dean."

Groaning, Dean throws his head back.

"Listen, when we do it for real, or like… renew our vows or whatever? You'll be the first to know."

"We can do that?" Cas asks.

"Yeah, I mean. People do it all the time. Why, d'you— do you want to?"

"I'd like to," Cas tells him.

"Okay. Let's do it. Maybe Cesar and Jesse will let us do it on the ranch."

"Are you two serious?" Sam asks.

"What?"

"Just like that, you're engaged now?"

"We're already married, Sam," Cas tells him, squinting. "Did you not understand what I said earlier?"

Rubbing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, Sam pushes out a hard breath, and shakes his head, and seems to let it go.

"Congrats," he says finally.

"If you're wondering what to get us for a present," Dean says, pulling Cas alongside him toward the camp, "I hear waffle irons are always a good choice."

[written for this prompt game] [posted here on ao3 as imogenbynight 💚]

[savingsallow]

‼️NEW MC ALERT‼️👀

— he shares the same brain cell with val 🤪

[hereliesyasha]

*wakes up in a cold sweat on friday the 13th*

me: what the fuck

long-buried special interest in goosebumps at the end of my bed: it’s time