#every day i just get more disgusted with humanity

[arthur-lesters-uvula]

Pisscourse drabble inspired by this

Not beta or proofread, btw. it's a shitpost EDIT: AO3 LINK

Arthur was simply trying to take his natural human function and pee. He was staring off into space, letting the fluid flow out of him and into the bowl when he felt something touching his leg. Instinctively, he jolts, moving his body away.

He stops peeing and looks down. He spots a hand, a fair skinned scard hand reaching out to him. It was John, what in the hell does he want. Arthur bats the hand away and asks.

"What, John?"

"...Can you hold my hand." It sounded like more of a demand than a question.

Arthur blinks, looking at the stall wall that separates him and John.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"Why."

"It's...scary and feels werid, I don't know how you humans dealt with having this fluid come out of you every day." John says and flexes his hand in a grabbing motion, like a baby wanting to get picked up.

John was like a needy cat, but he never liked doing things alone, including when it came to using the bathroom.

Arthur sighs and places his hand in John's, holding it snug.

"Better?"

"Much."

John says before Arthur hears a concerningly loud stream of piss hit the bowl.

He furrows his brows, "Just how long have you been holding that?"

John's pointer finger twitches, curling itself inward and scratches at the others palm.

"Since I got this body -" a lie.

John sheepishly admits, and Arthur aggressively squeezes his hand.

"What?! How the hell did you not piss on yourself—christ John it's been over a week."

John lets out a full-body shudder and tucks his feet under the toilet seat. His boots dig into the dirty tile floor.

"Okay - not really. The first time was a few days ago when it hurt too much to hold. I washed the clothes and succeeded." John spits out. It was more of a half truth when Oscar found him using fabric softener instead of actual detergent. Oscar actually helped clean and showed him how to wash the clothes properly.

John made(threatened)Oscar swear that he'd never speak a word of this.

"Am I going to have to fucking potty train you? Bloody hell John."

John lets out a werid, sad sound. Something between a dog like whimper and a sigh.

Arthur squeezes his hand once more, gently this time. "Well, it was probably bound to happen eventually. Just do your business and make sure you wipe yourself after." Just like his touch, the tone of Arthur's voice was soft. It reminded John of how he'd talk about Faroe.

John hums and stays silent, the sound of his piss hitting the water echo throughout the bathroom.

Arthur inturn also continues. Thankfully, there's not much left, so he finishes up quickly.

Awkwardly reaching across the stall with his opposite hand, he grabs a thing of toilet paper and rips a small peice off. He dabs the head of his dick with the paper before throwing it into the bowl and flushing.

He hears Johns flow turn into a tirckle before it stops completely. He stays on the toilet seat as he's still holding onto John's hand.

"You done?"

John nods, for a second forgetting thst Arthur can, in fact, not see him before he speaks up.

"I think so? I still feel weird, though..." He trails off. There's something pressing up against his asshole.

Arthur quirks a brow, "Werid how?"

"It feels like something is trying to escape me. There's pressure at my asshole."

Arthur stutters for a second, unable to form sentences in response. There is no way in fucking hell is he going to hold an eldritch entities hand as he shits.

"You're...going number two, taking shit."

"Oh.. Oh. Like that disgusting thing you did?"

"Yup. Now, I unfortunately am not generous enough to sit through this one with you. Just keep pushing until everything is out, John."

Arthur prys his hand away from John's, pulling his boxers and trousers up. Arthur buttons his trousers and fastens his belt.

"But Orthur... I can't do this alone." John whines, attempting to grab Arthur's trouser leg.

"You can, and you will. I'll be outside when you're done, John." Arthur moves away before John could grab him, opening the stall door he makes his way to the sink. He secretly prays that there's no one else coming in.

"Orthur! That's not fair. I need emotional support."

John kicks his feet out and leans back uncomfortably. The pressure is growing stronger.

Arthur begins to wash his hands, ignoring John's pleas and hums a tune.

"How about I send Noel in, hm? I'm sure he'd be more than willing." Arthur offers, John and Noel are close just like them, so it shouldn't be a problem. Hopefully.

John stops his movements, sharp canines bitting at his lips.

"Okay. That's fine. Please tell him to hurry."

Arthur huffs out a muffled laugh and steps out of the bathroom.

thank you to my platonic soulmates @arthur-lesters-tits & @arthur-lesters-slutty-waist for fuelling this. I appreciate you both greatly

[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 19 . It’s Only Responsibility

a/n: omg my fav chapter is finally here. i was so giddy when writing this lol

tags: low-key yandere behavior from Cale, implied torture, if Cale says what he feels is irritability then it's irritability goddammit

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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Cale feels as though he can’t get a good grasp on his emotions these days. In particular, he feels as though he feels intense emotions when _____ is thrown into the mix.

Maybe it’s because he feels accountable as he willingly took in the healer.

He doesn’t know when it started, he only noticed he felt that when back at the Gyerre Territory. It was the afternoon after he had destroyed a human trafficker’s house, just before he talked with Antonio. Ron reported that he had finished investigating the Perduellios.

“Young master, this old man took a stroll there and I must say that it’s very filthy. It looks clean from a certain distance but there are rats everywhere once you look closely. No wonder healer-nim grew up with a weak body. Someone like them does not fit that place.”

The redhead didn’t say anything but the servant could tell his listening to every word. 

The young master’s eyes don’t lie after all. 

And right now those eyes are filled with anger. 

Unmeasurable Anger

To the point it made the servant do a double-take.

Despite Cale’s brewing anger he still does everything according to plan. He doesn’t let out a single ounce of that anger until later when his talking to Alberu.

“Your Highness, the future shining sun of the Roan Kingdom. No one is as bright as you. Just seeing your face, even through a communication device, brightens my night and brings me hope for tomorrow.”

“Just tell me what you want. Is it another golden plaque? But you still have some.”

“Not this time your highness.”

Alberu was taken aback at the serious expression on the redhead’s face.

“As you already know, the Perduellios were working with the Chryshis. I trust your highness to handle the Gyerres and the Chryshis. However…”

“You want to handle the Perduellios.”

“We really are alike your highness.”

Alberu already saw this coming so he instantly agreed.

“I’ll allow it on the condition that they must stay in Aunt Tasha’s dungeon. Speaking of Aunt Tasha, she said she also wants a piece.”

“Then I shall be generous enough to share.”

Cale himself isn’t sure how he had the time to meet that bastard family. Between the war against the Indomitable Alliance. Fighting Arm and the Empire, and teaching the nobles a lesson Cale still managed to find free time to visit the Perduellios.

Must be the power of unmeasurable anger.

“Beacrox, Raon prepare to move quietly tonight. We’ll be meeting Tasha.”

The two are confused as to why, but Cale did not explain. He doesn’t need to as they instantly understand after seeing who’s inside the cell they are visiting.

“Young master Cale shouldn’t _____-nim be here?”

Cale looked at Tasha as if she said the most outrageous thing ever. Meanwhile, in the background, Beacrox is preparing his tools as Raon supplies information as to what the healer went through.

“Why would they be here when I’m doing this to relieve stress? I’m here to act trash, that’s not something an unofficial holy maiden should see.”

The next morning Alberu regrets taking a peak before the cell was cleaned up. He doesn’t think he can light up any of his beloved candles for at least a week.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Succeeding that incident, the next time Cale was overtaken by his emotions was after Operation Reflection. Unlike the last time, Cale felt two conflicting emotions this time.

Skyrocketing Pride and Plumeting Disgust

_____ was a core player during the navy battle and that made the redhead proud. Of course, he was also proud of everyone else in their group.

…but perhaps his a bit more proud of the healer.

However, it was only because they had come a long way. As Cale’s responsibility, his proud that the healer is doing better under his guidance.

Nothing more, nothing less.

“Human, those useless noble bastards were also talking bad about our _____ when you left. Some of them even had the nerve to directly yell at them. I wanted to smack them, but you told me to not do anything to those people for now so I didn't."

But then Raon’s report came.

Pride had been washed over by disgust.

Good thing _____ had talked him out of doing anything rash.

“Cale it’s okay. People who only know how to leech off other people are not worth your time.”

Did he mention how proud he is of how far _____ has come? Because he really is.

However, rumours say that it was the night after that when Cale first ‘visited’ the Perduellios.

+~+~+~+~+~+

Cale’s next overwhelming emotion is something his already familiar with. He already felt it back when they were in the Whipper Kingdom.

In fact, he has already associated this feeling with the healer.

Heart Palpitating Distress

But this time it feels more intense. Cale feels as if his heart is going to crawl out of his chest and into his mouth.

Thump!!

Thump!!

The redhead had been acting as though nothing was wrong ever since they finished the battle at Castle Leona. Contrary to his calm exterior, the redhead is a mess on the inside.

A wound, a stab wound with a lot of blood gushing.

Just inches near _____ heart.

And Cale has a strong gut feeling that it was _____’s own doing.

Seeing the copious amount of blood they lost was already bad enough. Seeing the nasty wound itself when they had to change the bandages was worse.

Then as if that isn’t enough to send Cale into a coma, the healer had the audacity to stand up not even 12 hours after their injury.

It was at that moment the commander made a conscious choice of sticking the healer to him like velcro.

+~+~+~+~+~

Nowadays, Cale is not ping-ponging between his emotions like a madman. But he did notice that he tends to feel a particular emotion these days.

Jealo– Irritability

Cale isn’t sure why he feels irritated, but he does. He feels irritated as soon as _____ woke up and started talking to Bud.

What happened during the week he was gone that those two are all friendly now?

And what was that? Bud is going to teach _____ how to drink?

Not on Cale’s watch.

It’s one thing for him if _____ themself wants to try drinking, but he won’t let the healer be coerced by some fool.

“Ron, separate those two as much as possible. That drunkard is nothing but a nuisance to _____.”

For a moment Cale got the chills when he heard Ron chuckle. It doesn’t help that the kids are laughing too. Regardless, it looks like the servant will heed his request so he lets it be.

But his jea– irritability doesn’t end there.

The next victim of Cale’s so-called irritable mood was this poor servant in Mogoru.

When Cale got back to Mogoru he unfortunately had to leave _____ back in the castle. There are too many undercover missions they have to do. And while _____ is much better than Choi Han at undercover missions, that man is a lot of things but an actor is not one of them, Cale isn’t cruel enough to make them take on such a taxing mission after being sick.

So he leaves the healer in the Mogoru Castle with Rosalyn and the others. 

“Young master-nim what about assigning a dedicated servant for healer-nim?”

Was Rosalyn’s suggestion after Cale mentioned _____’s tendency to overwork themself.

It seemed like a good idea, therefore they arranged for the healer to have a servant. The servant’s job would consist of making sure the Medicus is eating and resting properly. That servant would also act as _____’s assistant, taking care of whatever the healer needs.

At that time, Cale was satisfied with that plan.

That satisfaction quickly changed when he visited Adin’s room, (well, it’s practically _____ and Cale’s room now) and saw how the healer kept calling the servant’s name. In the beginning, it was fine, Cale didn’t mind it. But then he noticed how _____ seems to call for that servant every 5 sentences they utter.

Honestly? Even Cale knows his acting irrationally this time.

Did he care though? Of course not. Since when did trash care for another person’s feelings?

So he stationed that servant far away.

“Raon make a call in the underground villa. I must talk to Hans”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Ignoring Hannah’s snickering that turned into full-blown laughter, Cale called Hans over to assist the healer.

Because if the healer is going to rely on someone who’s not Cale, then it might as well be one of his people.

This one is a totally logical decision on Cale’s end. It’s not because of his jea– irritability.

It’s definitely just part of him being responsible over _____.

[mihai-florescu]

I just stumbled upon a one year old influencer's account on instagram reels i feel sick. Sorry for sounding radical but we need to stop the world from having children, youre all insane and should be locked uppp

Actually sick in the head

[macabrevampire]

chat i might be mentally ill ( ↖ guy that's suffered tremendously his entire life and is only getting worse)

[allofuswantgwinam]

idk how we’ll ever have peace in this world when everyone just wants to retaliate with violence for everything. ‘It happened to me so I want revenge and idc if any innocent people get hurt/murdered in the process” I want fucking out lol of this world I am so serious

[urlredacted]

anyway that's my cue to go to bed because i'm now crying over being unlovable and unwanted and i would like that to stop

[pholla-jm]

Heir

IMAGINE: HEIR ~ SUKUNA X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: sukuna is a bit ooc. fem!reader. not proof read. set in the heian era. true form sukuna. ***************

If someone were to tell Sukuna that in some years that he would have a wife, he would laugh at them… and then kill them. 

But here he was, thinking about how his beautiful wife looked with a small bump on her tummy. It’s all he could think about really. Ever since he found out his wife is pregnant, his view of the world changed. 

Sure, he still thinks that humans were lowly disgusting vile, but the world seemed like a better place with you and his future child in it. 

His every day activities seemed a little less fun now, and all he thought about was getting back home to his wife. 

After a day full of people worshiping him and some killing, he made his way back to his castle. Where his wife should be patiently waiting for him. 

******** 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You hear the deep voice of your husband call out causing you to jump a little. 

He had found you in a different room. It was bare at first, but you were starting to add things to the room. 

You were working on a traditional crib for the baby, having different silks laid out in front of you to choose. 

It was a bit early to start getting ready for the baby, but you were too excited.

You turn to look at him. He towered over you, with his four arms crossed as he looked at you with a disappointed look. 

“I just want to make sure that the baby’s room is going to be perfect.” You say turning back to the silks. 

Sukuna hums, sitting down next to you while observing the objects in front of you. 

“How long have you been doing this?” You shrug, “not that long.” 

“You could always have the servants do this, you know? You shouldn’t be working so hard.” 

“Yeah, I know. I just feel like if I do this myself, it feels more special.” 

Sukuna breathes out a happy breath, leaning his chin on one of his fists. He knew that you would make a great mother. Someone that is nurturing, and he knows that his future son will be loved and taken care of. 

“Still, you should be taking care of yourself. It’s important that you and our son are completely healthy.” 

You perk up hearing the word ‘son’. “Son? It’s a bit too early to know the gender.” 

Sukuna just smirks, eyeing you up and down. “Trust me, I know it’s going to be a boy.” You laugh, “oh yeah? How so?”

He points at your belly, “It’s lower. A low stomach means it’s going to be a boy.” 

Your eyes widen and you look away from him in disbelief. “Where did you even hear that? I didn’t know you believed in old wives tales anyway.” 

“It’s not an old wives tale if it’s the current talk.” “The current talk? What, are you gossiping with the local ladies now?” You laugh at the idea of Sukuna gossiping causing him to frown. “Whatever woman. What they say is true.” “Okay, we’ll see.” 

"I don't want you working on this room by yourself anymore. I have to be here to help you, okay?" You nod your head, a bit happy that Sukuna came up with a quick compromise. "Sound good to me. You can do all the heavy lifting."

Sukuna nods, then points at one of the silks that are laid out in front of you. It was a darker colored one, something that you knew he would like. “This one. It’ll be great for our son.” 

You decide not to comment on the son thing again. With a smile, you pick it out and put it to the side.

Pushing your hands on the ground, you start to get up from the ground. “What are you doing?” “I have to use the bathroom.” You say. However, Sukuna gets up faster than you. He gently picks you up, carrying you bridal style. “I can walk by myself.” You tell him with a small smile. 

You appreciate that Sukuna doted on you like this, but you don’t know how long you would be able to babied like this. 

“When I’m around, you’re not doing a single thing. You understand?” 

With a content sigh, you relax in his arms. Head resting on his shoulder, hearing the faint sound of his heartbeat.

“Yes, my beloved, I understand.”

[ominouspuff]

Kote’s House

Kote’s first house is a pathetic thing, and he is incurably proud of it. The twi’lek he purchased it from very evidently could not make up his mind what to do with a man that grinned while he haggled, but it was the first time Kote had haggled over a purchase of his very own. He had thoroughly enjoyed it.

The house is built for one being, and a compact being at that, but Kote doesn’t have much. Moving in is quick, and most of his efforts during the next few days after go into attempting ambitious repairs for things he doesn’t know the first thing about. 

His plumbing is an issue, he knows. Something is getting blocked up. Somehow while trying to fix the kitchen tumbler, his fresher spout explodes.

He hadn’t kept his new house a secret from anyone by any means, but it is still surprising when Fox barges in through his jamming front door. He finds Kote on the floor in his cramped kitchen while the fresher rains water in the adjacent room, laughing so hard and so crippled with delight that he can’t get up.

He tries to explain how wonderful it is —

“I-I have to fix my plumbing on my own, vod—”

—but judging by Fox’s single raised eyebrow he knows it doesn’t translate.

Fox, it turns out, is moving into the neighborhood. Kote doesn’t ask about the house Fox already has — the house he has visited, which is very nice and fancy — or point out that Fox’s contract there cannot possibly be up, which begs the question of why he’s here in Kote’s neighborhood — except that Kote already knows the answer to that question. So he doesn’t ask.

Fox doesn’t show him any grace or forbearance, though.

“Don’t even know how to fix a damn pipe, front lining show-off—” His brother snarls, but it is muffled; his top half had to go down beneath the floor they’d pried up to get at the plumbing issue.

“So that’s what they had you doing all these years.” Kote says, because he really is in a criminally good mood. He barely ducks the foot-long pipe Fox throws at his head, feeling giddy.

He makes dinner that night in thanks. Fox stays, ostensibly because now that he’s fixed the fresher he intends to use it, because his new house isn’t hooked up properly yet to all the supply lines and power grids. 

They choke on homemade tiingilar (vode-style; Kote can’t pretend at the real thing yet) so heavily spiced it’s got grit to it that sticks between the teeth. It’s disgusting, but Cody had bought fifteen different spices and while usually he likes to keep his approach to the unknown more cautious, more methodical, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do more than use them all at once for the first time. 

Wolffe joins them not long after; brings a few others along by recommending the apartment he picks out, so that soon most of the complex is taken up by vode, Kote hears, but he doesn’t visit yet. Everyone’s too busy coming over to his house, it seems; filling up his kitchen and asking why he hasn’t fixed the trash disposal yet, why he doesn’t have a couch, doesn’t he know they’re all the rage among civilized folk?

Kote fixes the trash disposal with Rex, who is better at it than he is but says it’s only due to Skywalker’s influence on managing all things mechanical. 

“How is Skywalker?” Kote asks, and gets more than he bargained for over the next hour. At first he’s a bit off-put, because he’s trying to get dinner sorted again and he’s not been very fond of Skywalker at the best of times, but Rex is snorting out a story and laughing and it’s contagious, so Kote just resigns himself and settles in to enjoy.

Skywalker has little ones, now. Obi-Wan is the only one that can get them to sleep. Ahsoka is distressed; she knows better, but every instinct in her is apparently in agony over the little ones’ inability to eat meat yet. She obsesses over nutrients in their diet — which, given what tiny natborn humans primarily ingest in the early stages, makes for some slightly awkward conversations.

Rex helps with dinner afterward, and they take turns being incredulous over natborn baby facts, shoving around one another in the tiny, uncomfortable kitchen.

“What’s your next project?” Rex asks at one point, glancing sidelong with a cheeky look, and Kote levels his vegetable knife at him (he’s got a vegetable knife. Specifically for vegetables. It’s a very new concept). 

“I make everyone’s dinner on Tuangsdays.” He says. “I’m productive.”

Rex’s sharp-toothed grin turns thoughtful. “Yeah” He says. “Everyone loves coming here, you know. You could be the new 79’s.”

Kote knows. He plans and plots, and puts more work into researching recipes than he’s put into any research whatsoever in months. It feels a bit like coming out of a shore leave; his thoughts quicken and his excitement grows. He hunts down a market. He brings a bag. He shops, bargains, and returns victorious.

He sends out a few comms., and can’t help but shake his head and grin at how different the responses are. 

What a marvelous idea, Cody. His general — ex-general — says.

Yus pls, Ahsoka sends back, with some sort of strange tooka vidclip that dances with wiggly gyrations Kote can only assume indicate excitement.

Where is your house, Anakin says, blunt and to the point, and Kote can appreciate that. 

He sends the address. He cooks all day. The sun sets, and Fox and Wolffe arrive, already bickering, Rex trailing behind with a long-suffering look sent to Kote, begging commiseration.

“Ugh, don’t you ever stop smiling, now?” He gripes when Kote just grins at him. 

“Nope,” Kote says, unrepentantly.

He leaves the soup on the stove, simmering, and takes his cup of caf to the window. He leans on it, breathing in cool air, and just listens — listens to the squabbling as Wolffe gets on Fox’s case for not washing Kote’s dishes correctly the last time they visited. Hears the soft thumps of Rex sneaking into the cramped room Kote has set aside for plants and the sole pet he has; a pastel goullian, fins swaying ever so gently, permanent scowl in place. Thinks he catches, distantly, the sound of his remaining three guests (Padme couldn’t attend, and had made him feel very awkward by how thoughtfully she apologized for it) plodding up the hill. 

“Cody!” Ahsoka cries, coming into view and waving. 

Kote’s cheeks have stopped aching from all the smiling he’s gotten used to, so it’s easy to let another through.

[midnightcrw]

Mood swings, cravings, and breakdowns

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: How Simon reacts to the different aspects of your pregnancy

a/n: I'm sorry that it took a little longer for me to write this, but I still hope that you will like it. And thank you so much, it makes me so happy to know that you all like what I write. I'm also on the train right now to get back to Germany after a few days in Paris. (I accidently deleted the request because I changed some things up, I'm very sorry)

At first, Simon was a nervous wreck when he found out you were pregnant.

It started with him panicking over every little thing you did or generally being more overprotective than he already was.

He even read and researched about the things that happen when someone is pregnant, and it didn't make it any less stressful for him.

And while he was nervous, you were pretty relaxed at the beginning of your pregnancy, nothing to complain about and nothing that could really make you feel anxious or stressed.

At first, Simon was a nervous wreck when he found out you were pregnant.

It started with him panicking over every little thing you did or generally being more overprotective than he already was.

He even read and researched about the things that happen when someone is pregnant, and it didn't make it any less stressful for him.

And while he was nervous, you were pretty relaxed at the beginning of your pregnancy, nothing to complain about and nothing that could really make you feel anxious or stressed.

But then you started acting different.

"I love you," you said as you hugged Simon after he got you your favorite ice cream.

"I love you too," Simon replied as he gave you a kiss on the forehead, which made you smile up at him, which made him smile back.

As soon as you let go of him, you went into the kitchen to eat your ice cream, while Simon sat on the couch watching something on TV (probably 'the great british bake off' or something related to trash TV).

And for the first time in weeks, Simon began to relax as he sat on the couch. He was happy about the fact that you were feeling good, until...

"SIMON!" You suddenly yelled from the kitchen, causing your husband to immediately jump up and grab one of the guns he had hidden in your living room.

As he ran towards you with the gun in his hand, Simon saw you standing next to the counter with your spoon in your hand, causing him to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Love-," and before he could finish, you immediately cut him off.

"This doesn't taste like the one from last week," you said, suddenly taking on an emotional tone as you mumbled.

Simon frowned, "But that's exactly the one I bought for you," he exclaimed, still holding the gun, but now pointing it down.

Suddenly your face became stern as you glared at him, "You don't love me! You couldn't even buy me the ice cream I really wanted!" You hissed in an aggressive tone.

"But that's what you wanted!" He argued with you.

"No!"

"Yes, it is-"

And then you threw your spoon at him, which he couldn't even dodge because he was surprised.

Simon never judged you for anything, no matter how weird you might act, he would never judge you.

But this one was a breach too far.

You were sitting on the couch while eating pickles with Nutella.

PICKLES WITH NUTELLA.

Simon had never been so disgusted in his life. He couldn't even look at you as he avoided your form with his eyes.

"Want to try?" You asked him as you continued to eat the offensive looking combination to human kind.

"NO," Simon immediately rejected your offer without even trying to say it softly.

You just stared at him in confusion, but shrugged and asked him if he could bring you some more pickles since you had already finished them.

And just like a good husband, Simon got up and went to the kitchen to get you some more.

Even though he was disgusted by the combination, he would still get you whatever you wanted.

The day had actually gone well. Everything seemed fine and nothing was out of place.

But your mind was really starting to get to you.

Whenever you heard anything remotely about childbirth, the potential complications that could arise, or even being a mother at all, you began to fear what might happen.

And even though you knew everything was going well, you still couldn't help but be afraid.

"What's wrong, love?" A gruff voice was heard as you looked up from the bed at Simon, who had just finished getting dressed for bed.

"Nothing," you mumbled, trying to smile, but it only made you more emotional as you suddenly started to sob.

Without a second thought, Simon immediately walked towards you to engulf you in his arms.

Your face was now resting on his broad chest while one of his hands held the back of your head and the other stroked your back in slow circles.

"Shh, it's okay, love. Cry as much as you want," Simon whispered into your ear, pulling you closer as you heard his heartbeat.

"I'm afraid to be a parent. What if our baby hates me? Or if I can't be there for them? Or-" you sobbed as Simon interrupted you.

"You're not going to be a bad parent. That baby inside of you is going to love you so much. You always reassure me when I'm scared, so you shouldn't have to worry about anything. Where is the strong and confident woman I know?" Hearing Simon's words, your hands clenched around his shirt, your heart racing as you processed what he had said.

"Still here," you said, your voice a little more normal now after the crying.

"Good, because this is the woman I fell in love with."

[vamptarot]

Your FS’ Most Complimented Trait | PAC

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

pile one : - dongmin

𐙚 : the moon, the high priestess, the emperor, the fool, the magician, the lovers

⭑ their most complimented trait

Their aura is what gets complimented most often! Even if people don’t necessarily have the words for it, they know there is something really unique about your person that simply just makes heads turn. (sort of ironic that Dongmin is the picture for this pile.) Although, younger people might actually compliment their aura.. of course, most of this is in a playful manner and yet there still is something so admirable about your future spouse my dear pile one.

They could potentially have the sort of beauty where you can’t help but admire them with ever loving eyes, getting lost in the moment because even if for a moment the world disappears and you don’t even consider snapping out of it, you just get stuck in admiring them with the shrieking pain of desperation in your chest that screams at you, begging you to caress their face because you don’t want this moment to pass, but you know it will, and eventually the realisation that they are a human and not a work of art hits you.. so you have no choice but to stay still and process your emotions without looking crazy in their eyes.

You know, that sort of drop dead gorgeous beauty.

They have a beautiful smile and a pretty laugh/giggle. I won’t lie to you, they are the sort of person who makes people question their sexuality. Not necessarily by flirting, but by just existing.

Also probably make some people annoyed, because even if they aren’t someone’s type people just absolutely cannot help but be attracted to them, to be charmed. They don’t even gotta try for it! For some of you, you could also react like this when you see them and be around them in general lol.

Though that’s for a very specific subgroup of people reading this pile! Specifically for feminine presenting, short, usually shy and thiccer people who are into men!

The guides present for this reading that I work with showed me a tall, tan, blond dude with green eyes shirtless in summer wear just looking cool. Then the reader being shy as they watch them on their phone and blushing like crazy lol That’s for a very specific someone though, so only take what resonates! (actually some of you reading, or your future spouse, could be non-binary! you go monarch fr)

⭑ how it makes them feel

Unfortunately this makes them very uncomfortable! :(

It depends on who it’s coming from, of course! The uncomfortable feeling usually comes from when they are being complimented by older women and men. By this, I mean people over 35, for some of you 40.

They feel sort of disgusted because they know their thoughts, feelings and intentions. Unfortunately, there is a lot of people who want to use them but your future spouse thankfully sees through their actions and words! They usually tend to be more careful around people like that, not trusting them straight of the bat if at all. (I don’t blame them! I connected to the older people’s energy and most of them are so gross…)

For the most part they are very annoyed. Your person is someone who works incredibly hard when it comes to their work field and for what they have. They are not the sort of person who take things for granted. The goal here is to achieve great things in life, each and every day they work hard to build up a life they can be proud of. To live comfortably, to spoil their future family and their loved ones. (Their mom especially!) Getting compliments on their work is how they know they are doing great and are on the right path in life.. that they can truly fulfill their goals. Yet, they don’t hear any of that. They work hard, and get complimented for their looks. It’s annoying.

They could often look at the compliments as fake, as if it comes from two faced people. Believing them is just something hard to do, at least in their eyes. In their belief most of them compliment your future spouse just to kiss up to them, because they have something to gain. So they could be pretty influential people my pile one. Although, I think it’s important to mention that they tend to be a bit insecure, so they might think these things even at times where people are being genuine towards them!

⭑ what they wish to be more complimented on

The love that they have in their heart! For some of you, this could be related to spirituality as your person is religious. I do think this is mostly relevant if you are Christian, Muslim or have another Abrahamic religion in your heart. Although, for most people this is for romantic love. ᡣ𐭩

In their eyes they love deeply, in a beautiful and honest manner. They are a lover boy. There is a huge wish to be appreciated for the person that they are. They try their best. Every second of the day, even when they fail.

Your future spouse’s heart is very fragile, they are a sensitive soul. So when you get to be with them, please treat them gently. They are kind, forgiving, understanding, polite, funny and someone who wants good for all. They know this too, and so do the people around them. Which can break their heart, because there could be times where their head is filled with confusion about what they could have possibly done wrong. (Nothing btw. Literally didn’t do anything wrong.)

I also do see that in the past romantic partners have unfortunately mistreated them, so they wish to be appreciated in a romantic manner. To be held and told they are doing a good job. That they can never be seen as only a second option, and that they are someone very competent. Honestly your future spouse just wants to be told they are doing a good job in life. That’s their wish for a compliment.

possible ages : 14, 17, 19, 24, 26, 30, 32 [don’t be alarmed, we just have a very mixed crowd of readers in this pile is all.]

— ✮⋆˙ : brazil , tank top , duck , ‘tikkitakka’ , red clothes , bone cracking , count down (1 2 3 4 5) , ‘love of my life’ , leo , mickey mouse , 2020/21 audios , model

my pile one ;; your future spouse is such a sweetheart, ir deeply saddens me that they have to go through something like this! being treated as nothing but a pretty doll when you have strong feelings and a sense of accomplishment can be soul crushing.. but don’t worry, they will get through this!! someone in this pile also has a future spouse who is 19 and a model, their sensitivity came through a lot. (not a bad thing btw) so, I thought that’s really cool and felt like mentioning! either way, if you liked this pac please go ahead and take a look at my paid readings if you wish to!thank you for reading! 🫶🏻

pile two : - drinks !

𐙚 : the emperor, the wheel of fortune, the hermit, the lovers, the world, the moon

⭑ their most complimented trait

The thing they get most complimented on is… their success! Pile two, I do think your future spouse is very successful in life and have achieved many great things that they are proud of. Of course, this can be related to money but it’s not necessarily the case you know? It’s just that they can overcome anything that life throws at them and come back twice, thrice or even more successful.

This is admirable to many people because the way they do it is just almost humanly impossible. Their persistence and power of will is incredibly strong, it’s like nothing can bring them down at all.

It’s like they if you broke their arms and legs so they cannot fight you, they would still bite and not let go of you. If you steal all their money they will use all their resources to earn more and form a community that will make sure that you never do it again.. they go far, but never too far. They always know what to do and how to win, and they do.

Honestly this might annoy people sometimes out of jealousy, but they still cannot help but admire your person. ‘Cuz they are just cool like that, you know?

Those things of course, have not happened but were just examples! Regardless they always know how to thrive, how to live and make life around them fun. They even make living for the people around them easier, so they could possibly spoil their family members and help out their parents with bills and such. (Someone’s guides are calling me to mention this person is someone of colour!)

They work hard while making it look easy!

⭑ how it makes them feel

Unfortunately, your future spouse becomes anxious when people compliment them too much. They don’t mind a few times, they might even agree and feel good to be seen. To be viewed as someone who can get things effortlessly, easily and thrive.. They like to be viewed like that as they don’t like to be viewed as weak and someone who can’t do anything. They want to feel useful.

Their fears could possibly set in when they can feel people’s jealousy.. They might have bit of trust issues, paranoia or trauma for past bad experiences. (different for everyone 🫶🏻) This could make them very cautious as they think people could be planning on taking the things they worked hard for away from them.. Losing everything is one of their biggest fears.

Another one is.. not living up to people’s expectations. They could possibly be scared of people expecting too much from them. That if they were to see the real side of them, the real them, people would be left disappointed. They don’t want to feel like a fraud, let alone be one. So this anxiety is with them pretty much most of the time. It has settled in a place deep inside their heart.

It’s not impossible to get rid of this feeling of course, but they might need a bit of time to heal from it. Possibly professional help. I truly do hope they will be able to receive the help that they need! 🫶🏻

You will play a huge part in their healing journey also, just make sure to not give up your health for the sake of theirs!

⭑what they wish to be more complimented on

There is not much to say here truly, because their wishes are really very simple. Their wish is for the current compliments to continue… from a genuine place. For them to be true.

They want to keep being successful, and be acknowledged for it. Although, they do want to be acknowledged about their emotions too.

They are scared, nervous and quite frankly they have a hard time opening up about this even to their close loved ones. Unfortunately, shame seems to sit in their heart with loneliness as it’s company and it’s the cause of their misery.

They want to be comforted, praised about how good of a job they are doing at controlling their anxiety and keeping their feelings in check. It is something that they are proud of, but possibly need validation about.

They don’t get it because they don’t tell anyone about how they feel, and if they do try to they just can’t seem to open up completely. They know this too, and don’t blame anyone for it. They just crave emotional intimacy and for someone to be a peaceful company for them, a person that can naturally calm them down. Their daydreams often revolve about being nurtured by someone trustworthy.

possible ages : mid 20s & mid 30s ! 🫶🏻

— ✮⋆˙ : ‘please turn of the lights’ , akmu , bolo , playlists , wiping someone’s tears , father-son issues [‘you have to be manly!’ , ‘a real man doesn’t… ‘ and so on], frozen yogurt

my beautiful pile two, I truly hope your future significant other can heal in their own pace as they don’t seem like a bad person, truly. and the very same goes for you, as you could potentially relate at some parts to their feelings.. you are doing good, i am proud of you. you are cool too! i am sorry I couldn’t channel much, they just happen to be a private person. 🫶🏻 regardless, if you enjoyed this and would like to, please feel free to check out my paid readings. thank you for reading!

pile three : - hyunwook !

𐙚 : the empress, the fool, the devil, the hermit, the lovers, temperance

⭑ their most complimented trait

There are two bigger subgroups in this pile, so that’s how I am gonna treat your reading. Please look at which group you resonate with and read for that my beautiful pile three 🫶🏻

Group one is for people with a future spouse who already have kids, group two is for people with a future spouse who is younger! Late teens to early twenties.

group one

So.. I do think some of you already know this, but your future spouse is already a parent. This could be to one or multiple children, although I think young kiddos, not grown up ones.

They constantly get complimented on how good of a parent they are and how much of a good job they are doing. Their hard work constantly shows through the efforts they constantly make and put out in the world so their family can live happily.

Even if they don’t have a lot, they would rather give everything they have to their kids so they don’t gotta suffer and just put up with their situation in quite. For some of you this is about food.. they would rather starve than to have their kids not eat.

Fortunately, for most people in the pile it never gotten that far and the compliments are much more leaning towards how they give everything they can to their kids! To pamper them. so they can live a happy life! 🫶🏻

group two

My beautiful, in your case your future spouse gets complimented a lot on being a good son/daughter to their parents.

The energy here seems really cute because your future spouse is really humble, they get shy easily and just quietly take the compliments or say thank you in order to be polite.

I do see that the compliments are very well deserved though, as they help out whenever they can, especially their mother.

[for those into girls this is just a cultural thing, as you will marry a poc person. that’s a really small amount tho, most of the people reading this pile will be with a man.]

Either way they could help out with things like washing clothes, moving things around, building things just so the burden is less on their mother. This comes from a place of appreciation towards their mother, and for the most part a lot of love too. They are aware their parent(s) already has it hard, so they try to help out wherever they can.

⭑ how it makes them feel

Both groups are about guilt, but very different kinds, so do please choose whichever one you resonated with the most in the previous point 🫶🏻

group one

If you resonated with group one it is very much likely that your future spouse is currently married. Their guilt revolves around not actually loving their spouse, but everyone praising them for being a good parent. In their eyes, a good parent is loving towards their spouse in order to set a good example.

At first I actually wrote father, so this could be a man who grew up in either a household where the mother was respected.. or one where she wasn’t and he hated it. That honestly depends person to person, but the whole point is they love their mom and want to honour her by showing that they were raised right.

Either way, they want to be a father their children they look up to.. they do. [I know that sentence doesn’t make sense, but someone’s guides want me to form it that way so I am keeping it.] They just can’t do it, because they just don’t love their spouse at all. It’s not that they want their kids to hate their parent(s), but they cannot bring themselves to keep doing this for long.. which makes sense, they will meet you after all.

They could also at times when they feel stressed could potentially be more cold towards their kids than intended or just not live up to the mental image they had of themselves in their head. It’s those ‘I love you but I don’t like the way you are acting right now’ moments. Honestly they really just seem to be a new parent, not really used to kids crying or being overwhelming… so they could at times act in ways they aren’t proud of and will forever be ashamed of. Doesn’t seem like a bad person tho, just lots of big emotions.

group two

If you get uncomfortable by sexual things easily, please do prepare mentally or skip this because I am going to be picking up on their guilt in regards to sexual experiences.

So, I do think they have an immense amount of guilt because they do not think they are a good son/daughter/kid. People have this certain image of them, that they are good, angelic or even perfect.. when that’s far from the truth. In their eyes at least.

They do think like this because they feel an intense sense of shame. Your person for sure has a porn addiction, although it’s not severe, it doesn’t stain their mind or influence the way they behave with people at all. It’s just that if they feel the urge, they need to get rid of it. Thus, the guilt, they get called a good kid and they immediately remember their acts and feel sorry. They feel like they are unintentionally putting on a facade. Which is not true in the least, they are a good person. Unfortunately, they just don’t have a good relationship with sexual things.

They feel ashamed about certain kinks they have, even if it’s truly not inappropriate or uncommon. The things they watch, think and sometimes even that they are attracted to multiple people.. even if they are single. They are an insanely loyal person though, do not get them wrong.. it’s just that they get little crushes. Which we all do! But your person truly feels guilty and wishes they could just keep with one crush.. it makes them feel like a scum, if you will.

Truth to be told, they just want to be loved, they need a support net, a lifeline that will make things okay.

Most of these issues stem from trauma, and while I can pick up on several I will not be saying them since it would be disrespectful to tell their vulnerable moments to everyone on the internet 🙂‍↕️ So, sorry! I cannot tell you the hardships they went through. Since they are your future spouse, they will tell you themselves eventually.

⭑ what they wish to be more complimented on

Nothing! This is the shortest explanation out of all the piles in this topic.. because there is truly nothing they wish to be complimented on.

They just want to improve themselves, live a good life and be the person that they strive to be. There is this ideal version of themselves that they wish to achieve, as long as they can do that they don’t really care what people say. Good or bad, they don’t give much importance to people’s compliments because at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter and can change in the blink of an eye if the person just oh so ever slightly changes.

They just wanna be well disciplined, well mannered, hard working, well kept and in shape. They have high expectations of themselves and they wanna reach it. So that’s what they focus on, not what potential compliments they could get if they improve if that makes sense?

Compliments don’t matter much to them, it’s just that they have a breaking limit / point when they can’t handle hearing them anymore. A few times it’s fine, but eventually they will get annoyed by them. Especially if it’s repetitive. It’s like an ick, or they can tell when someones fake. To them it’s one of those little annoying moments in life that you sorta have to politely go through in order to avoid trouble or more bothersome things to deal with. Kinda like washing dishes! (Lol, what?)

possible ages : late teens (17-19), early twenties (20-24), mid thirties!

— ✮⋆˙ : taylor swift playlists , jerseys , papaya (fruit!), cannibal by kesha , hentai / yaoi / yuri , painted nails (red / hot pink) , lovebird , 00s / 10s movies

my dearest pile three, your future spouse is going through it 😞 thankfully they will be able to heal from all of this! I don’t blame them for the guilt that they feel, but please don’t be too harsh with your words when it comes to them! It’s something that will stick even if they like to pretend that they don’t care, ya know?… I am sorry that I couldn’t dive as deep into their guilt as possible but privacy exists for a reason! Didn’t wanna be disrespectful.. Either way, if you enjoyed the reading and perhaps feel like it feel free to check out my paid readings! thank you for reading!

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch. 4: Black Out Days

Ao3 | Previous - Next | Masterlist

Vampire!Poly 141 x Fem!Fat!Reader

MDNI | cw: sickness, hallucinations, injury, some light dubcon

Word Count: 6.2k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life. Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate.

A/N: the tone of this story has sort of shifted as I’ve worked on the next few chapters/plot points. I hope it’s not too jarring, but I’m excited for the direction it’s going in.

Your mother rises out of her drunken stupor - spine too straight and head flopped back limply. As if her hips are the only thing capable of moving and her neck has snapped at every ligament. The worn sheets pool around her hips, torn neckline of her nightclothes exposing her gaunt, bruised collar bones.

She says your name in that sickening, gruff voice of hers. A voice too exposed to the poisons outside. Blood drips from the corner of her mouth, coats her teeth as she speaks. Black and viscous. “Oh, darling, what have you gotten yourself into?”

You’re small. A child kneeling by her bed like you always did, waiting for her to ask you to bring her water or pain pills. “What?”

“It’s easier if you give in.”

People aren’t buried anymore. There isn’t room. Your mother’s urn is painfully cold in your hands. You stumble as the train lurches. A new voice hisses above you. Wild eyes and big hands that leave clawing, bloodied stripes in their wake down your body. A flash of blonde, some sort of scar. An accent so old you don’t recognize it.

“It’s easier if you give in, little girl.”

You fall back, out of the train doors and onto something soft and silky. For a few beats you stay there, in the quiet. In the dark. Comfortable in a way so deeply foreign to you it might as well be alien. Until some thick cover pulls away from your face. John grins down at you, shirtless with his head resting on his hand and elbow on the pillow below him.

“Knew you were awake.”

You rub your eyes. “Wh- when did- when did I get here?”

He frowns, a deep crease forming in his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve…” You run a hand through your sleep tangled hair. “I don’t know…”

“It could be so easy, Fancy.” He murmurs, voice low and far away. “It doesn’t have to be… this.”

“I can’t…” Something complicated swirls in your chest. A twisting of guilt and love and unadultered disgust.

The world shifts. You’re standing, now. Simon leans on the railing of the penthouse balcony, staring out at the city. He takes up so much space. Envelopes you without even touching you. “How many memories do you think a person can lose before they’re someone else entirely?”

“What?” You frown. There’s an ache in your head - a drumming pain growing more intense by the second. Your bones rattle along to the rhythm.

“It’d be so easy…”

You peel your eyes open only slightly. It hurts, as if they’ve been glued shut. An offensive light blazes in your face. It takes a moment before you realize the tingle on your skin comes from the UV lamp beside you. Did you fall asleep under it again? No matter how hard you blink your vision won’t clear. When you finally manage to swallow it feels like your throat has been lined with shards of glass.

You grope around the bed uselessly, hands unsure. The edge of the bed takes longer to get to than it should. With a low groan you crawl to the edge, barely managing to swing your legs over. Well, swing is a generous description. In reality you end up on your back on the floor, head thunking against some sort of plush rug or carpet. Your vision swims.

With another groan you slowly pull yourself up into a shaky stance. Wherever you are, it’s big. The bed you fell out of is easily a king with richly woven sheets and a thick comforter. The rug on the floor has such intricate patterns it makes your pounding head dizzy. There’s even a fireplace in the far corner, unlit at the moment.

Something different catches your eye - an item too familiar for this foreign room. Your box of valuables sits on an elegantly carved wooden dresser. Real, actual wood. You run your fingers over the strangely organic material, so rare that it almost feels more unnatural than the plastic plywood you’ve grown accustomed to in the slums.

You limp weakly toward the heavy door on the far wall. A whine escapes you as you pull it open, the heavy wood causes the hinges to creak quietly. You poke your head out, walking down the empty hall like a person with decade long atrophy. Sweat drips down your back, the sickness in your gut turning to anxiety as you realize where you are.

The penthouse.

Voices waft through the mostly open central area - deep and growling. A sound you might mistake for an angry beast if it weren’t for the intelligable words the noise makes up.

“Bloody ‘ell, Price, what the fuck?” That baritone could only belong to Simon. You poke your head around the corner of the wall, peaking into the living room where the four vampires stand.

“I know, I fucking know. I couldn’t-” An exasperated sigh. “I couldn’t lose her again.”

“So you fuckin’ marked ‘er?”

Your hand lifts shakily to the still sore cuts on your neck. They’ve scabbed over but barely. The action makes you look down at your hands - neatly bandaged. Recently, too, you think. At least if your blurred vision is to be believed.

“We’ll lose ‘er anyway if you fuckin’ scare ‘er away!” Simon’s volume continues to grow. He steps forward. John doesn’t back away.

“Guys…” Kyle tentatively steps in, hands outstretched between them as if stepping into a dog fight. He might as well be, frankly.

“You promised her you wouldn’t!” Simon’s voice wavers. It makes your heart skip, the unsteady sound so bizarre coming from him. “We all did!”

“Simon’s right.” Johnny crosses his arms. “We said we’d take our time. See where she’s at.”

“Weren’t exactly taking your time when you fucked her raw were you?” John snaps back. It’s shockingly childish and out of character for the man. Not that you would know. He sighs, rolling his wide shoulders. So much for not being angry about it.

Before you can make heads or tails of the scene playing out in front of you, your vision blackens, one leg stiffening and the other giving out. You barely catch yourself on some random side table, knocking it against the wall in the process. Despite your efforts to hold yourself up you collapse onto the cold, hardwood floor.

“Oh, baby girl.” It’s Kyle at your side first, cool hands tenderly enveloping you as he checks for damage.

“Don’t…” You push at his chest weakly. “Don’t touch me…”

“Dove-” A crack sounds throughout the penthouse, deafening and ringing as Simon’s palm comes into contact with John’s chest, forcing the man back a few steps.

“You’ve done enough.”

There’s a moment, long and silent as you watch them stare each other down. A power struggle. John is the head of the coven, objectively. The only way to change that is an exchange of power. A death. You’ve seen it out on the streets within lesser covens. Simon is bigger, but you can see the cold, dogmatic shift in John’s eyes. The look he gave you in the car. The one that says he is well and truly Right and there is nothing to stand between him and what is Right.

The moment ends when you double over, lungs heaving as you choke and cough. A slimy, viscous glob of red-black comes up from your throat. Barely liquid with the thickness of it. You fall limply against Kyle, as much as you’d rather be left in a dark alley than with these psychopaths your body just can’t hold itself up.

Someone scoops you up, pressing you tightly to their chest. Johnny or Kyle, you think. A touch so soft and sweet you might mistake it for love. Not that you would know. You’re back under the wave of nothing before you even touch the sheets.

You sit still as you can, arm growing tired of the stiff angle you have it positioned in. Laid out across some old loveseat that creaks every time you move even slightly. You don’t trust it to not have at least a little dry rot considering it’s from a good few centuries ago. One of those random pieces John hoards for some secret reason. The light positioned carefully above you feels too warm, discomfort making you twitchy.

“Johnnyyy!” You whine. “Hurry up!”

“Ye can do it, bonnie. Just sit like me.” He goes still. Inhumanly still. Transitioning from living (well, undead) being to a marble statue in barely a second. It sends a frightened shiver down your spine - the prey instinct in your hindbrain moving into overdrive.

You take a shaky breath. “I hate when you do that.”

When he does what? Has he done that before? Have you been here before?

“Jus’ be a good lass f’me.” Johnny murmurs. A different sort of shiver runs down your spine.

You recognize his room but it’s… different. Lighter, somehow, than the last time you were here. The only time you were here. The wall has far more drawings tacked to it, nearly doubling the amount and bleeding across onto another side of the room. You squint. It’s you. Well, mostly. All in different poses, some more salacious than others, each carved out with a deep attention to detail. Were… were those there before? They couldn’t have been.

Your body lights up, the room grows darker. Nearly pitch black. Your hips roll lazily. You feel… good. Ecstatic. The warmth from the light replaced by an immeasurable heat. The man below you comes into focus as the dream settles - a mountain. Blonde and pale and scarred. Part of his right ear is clipped off from a fight. At least you think it was a fight. His hair just barely long enough for you to tangle your fingers in. You’d know those dark eyes anywhere - the ones that look right to the very core of you. That know you wholly from Eve.

“Fuck, Si…”

“Tha’s my girl.” He grins. The action pulls at a scar covering his lips. “Always so good f’me.”

The hands on your waist lift you like nothing. Like you weigh as much as paper and are just as delicate. A burning fills you, a tension that pulls a grating whine from your chest.

A distant part of you remembers to question what this is. Why you’re here, with him. Why you’ve never seen his face before but seem to know every detail of it by heart. The rest of you falls into the moment without a care, allowing yourself to be consumed entirely by him and his desire. It’s all you want - all you need.

Simon’s voice rumbles in a sort of call and response to your devoted babbling. “I love you.”

You jolt, snapping forward and sloshing water around you. For a moment, you panic that you’re drowning. That you’ve been dropped into some great sea and left to flounder.

There’s a quiet rumble behind you, vibrating through your back. Simon. You couldn’t make out whatever he said.

You relax instinctively. Some unconcious part of you falls back into him. Until he runs a soap rag over your chest and you tense, clumsily attempting to cover yourself and curl into a ball. The water sloshes over the edge of the tub again. You don’t get very far, despite the massive size of the bath you’re utterly surrounded. Bracketed by Simon’s strong thighs and large hands.

“None of that.” He barks, pulling your arms back to continue washing you. “You’ve been sweatin’ in bed for four days. Gonna make y’self worse.”

Four days? Worse?

You stay quiet, limp and pliant as he pours a hefty glob of shampoo into your hair. Vanilla. Far too exhausted to put up any sort of fight. Not that you would win. It feels good, if you’re honest, the way he systematically scrubs every part of your scalp, slowly detangling with conditioner. You nod off for a moment, coming back when he pours water over your head to rinse you.

“Simon?” You murmur weakly.

He grunts.

“Why am I here?”

The hands in your hair pause. Only for a moment before going back to their gentle movements. “Because you’re ‘ome.”

You shiver, another coughing fit wracking your body. At least nothing comes up this time. There aren’t bandages on your hands, just the scabbing wounds that have obviously been carefully tended to. Even as the coughing subsides your breaths wheeze, shallow and hollow in your chest.

When you were young, your mother would set you in a cart to walk to the supermarket. The cracked streets would bump and rock you uncomfortably but it was better than walking all those miles. You always hated the market. Too loud and confusing. A maze of sterile white tile and shelving so high it felt giant to you.

One time you lost her, distracted by a massive plushie that she said you can’t afford. You’d stood there staring at it, angrily contemplating why you couldn’t afford it. What sort of societal disservice had been done that you can’t have that bright pink creature. Angry and lost you ended up wandering the aisles for what felt like an eternity. Walking through that white void in search of… you’re not really sure what, actually.

That confusion continues to eat at your mind as the aisles transition into a small, lush greenhouse. The UV lights above you would burn, if it weren’t for the large hat covering your head and shoulders. Gardening gloves protect your hands as you carefully harvest a few tomatoes. They came in so well this year, bright and firm.

You’re lost in it. The green. So accustomed to grays and neon lights that it feels unnatural. You turn your gloved hands over, palm up, down, up, down. They’re yours but distant. As if you’ve possessed some alternate version of yourself. You suppose you have, in a way, if these fever dreams are in pattern. Not that you remember the others well.

The lights turn off suddenly and you freeze, muscles tensing and hackles raising. You turn slowly as the door begins to creak open, trowel in hand. Not that it would do much against whoever has you cornered. John said to be wary.

He’s been acting strange lately.

Isn’t he always?

A hand clamps over your mouth and you shriek behind it. You claw at the stony hand covering you, instinct taking over. Adrenaline pulses through you.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me.” Kyle coos, letting you go quickly. “Sorry, love, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t do that!” You snap, harsher than you meant. Or less so?

He deflates a bit, shoulders sagging. “Sorry, I just wanted to come in here with you for a bit.”

“Why?” You snort. Kyle is the only one brave enough to venture in. Even with an external light switch, the others are far too wary of the UV lights hanging across the roof to enter. It’s a joke between Simon and Johnny - that they’ll throw Johnny into the greenhouse if he doesn’t behave.

Kyle nods, scooting forward. You can barely make him out, the only light being that of the faux stars drifting gently through the fogged greenhouse glass. “Missed you.”

“I saw you, like, five minutes ago.” Did you?

He shakes his head. You wish they would tell you more. They always hold back so much, as if your puny human brain can’t grasp what they think. You could. You’d learn to. Even if it was some horrid, eldritch secret you would bear it for them. He pushes you back until you’re laying on the floor, slowly resting his weight on you and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Just let me stay like this for a bit.”

You frown, but only move to reach up and pet his hair. It’s smells like vanilla. He stole your shampoo again. A fraction of you screams, rails against the idea of being this close to an apex predator. To a man you don’t know. Strange. You know Kyle. You love him. Both the fear and the fondness swirl together into a confusing mixture in the back of your mind.

“We can stay. For as long as you want.”

Something heavy and cold coils around you. You weren’t out as long this time, you think. If you’re even awake now. The room is dark. A pitch black void that you float in outside of the grounding weight holding you in place. That vanilla scent felt so real, still wafting through your nose. A nagging sense of despair settles in your chest as it dissipates.

“Need t’go home.” You croak, unsure of why you say it. Your tongue feels heavy and numb. God only knows why.

“Ye are home.” Johnny murmurs in your ear, voice low.

“Not m’bed… sheets’r t’nice.”

“It’s yers.” Johnny’s arms tighten around you. His voice shakes. “It’s always been yers.”

“N-no…”

“Knew it was tae soon tae bring you back.” He buries his face between your shoulder blades. “Told Kyle it’d be tae much.”

“Wh-”

“Ye make us such a mess, bonnie.” He sighs. “Cannae believe Price-“

Johnny cuts himself off. You can’t find it in yourself to argue or press. A sob wracks you out of nowhere. Something about Johnny, about being wrapped up in his strong arms sends you over the edge of it all. The weight of him mimics the one in your chest.

“Dinnae cry.” Johnny sits up a bit, running a thumb under your eye.

“I’m s-so confused-“ You sob. “I can’t- I-“

Somewhere in the midst of your crying fit the bed dips in front of you. Kyle cages you in between himself and Johnny, pressing you tightly in the center. It makes you want to thrash, to fight and scream.

It also feels so, so good.

You’re back in the slums, in your apartment, with some random man groaning above you. He works down the street, you think. Smiles at you whenever you go get a coffee or cigarettes. You stare at the ceiling blankly. You brought him here… why did you bring him? What- You hiss at the living heat of his hands, burning through your skin - gut churning at the blue of his eyes. It’s wrong. Neither bright nor tranquil enough. You can’t voice it. Can’t place it. They’re just wrong.

You catch a flash of dark irises as you take drinks to some slimy little vampire paying on credit. Immortal but still poor. Pathetic. Suddenly, though, you don’t care when he and his friends grab at you, your gaze trained on the man lounged in a booth on the other side of the club. You can’t stop staring at him, something tugging at you deep down to go to him. His eyes connect with yours, and you nearly leap with joy when he waves you over.

Except, when you get close, you freeze in place. Straddling his lap, a crushing weight lands on you all at once. They’re not what you’re looking for…

What are you looking for?

You sob in your bed late into the night, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. You’re so lost. So hollow. You don’t know why - don’t understand what changed. Some portion of you carved out into nothing. A soulless tulpa born of someone’s imagination. You can’t be human, there’s no way you can be human and this empty. A walking carcass. Not even undead, just barely animated. A puppet, almost.

It’d be so easy…

You wake in a fog this time, limbs heavy. As much as you try to will your arms to move, they won’t quite do it right. Your hands glide over the soft fabric around you, barely moving a few inches. The muscles twitch and shake. It feels like wading through molasses and with a thousand pounds of steel strapped to your back as you attempt to sit up even slightly.

“There she is.” A familiar voice murmurs. It’s soft, comforting, but also incredibly far away. “Hey, lovie.”

“Kyle?” You croak. You might as well be speaking around a massive ball of cotton. There’s something hot and wet streaming down your face. Are you crying?

“You’re alright.” He murmurs, soothing down your hair. Petting you like a dog in pain. An injured, feral animal.

You collapse back on the bed - not that you made it that far in the first place - unable to see more than a few feet in front of you. Kyle, really. Kyle is all you can make out. His face so vivid you’re sure you could draw it from memory. “Where am I?”

He pauses. “…Your room.”

“M’chest hurts…”

“I know, lovie. We’ll make it better.”

“What’d y’do t’me…?” Your vision flashes in and out. You’re going back under, as hard as you try to fight it. The edge just comes closer. You teeter on your heels.

“You just breathed in some bad air. You’ve been out for… a while.” Somehow, you get the sense that what he says is an understatement. That there are layers he has to hold back. Simon said four, you remember, though you can’t quite define if that was real or a dream.

“I hate you.” You whisper, barely audible. “I hate all of you.”

“I know.” Kyle sighs, continuing to run his fingers through your hair. “I know.”

Teeth sink into you. A choked gasp escapes your lips, body stiffening and hands knotting into some thick cloth. The pain is searing but fleeting. A part of you, the present part of you, feels disgusted. Wants to shake and batter whatever parasite has you caught in its maw. Another part, a far more distant piece of you that you aren’t even sure is you, blossoms with warmth. You melt into the strong arms that hold you against a cool chest.

“John?” You murmur. Or, rather, this other you murmurs.

A low groan reverberates from his chest to yours. Your head gets lighter, vision fuzzy around the edges. A hand clamps over the bloodied parts of your neck. Your vision fractures, partially the scene in front of you and partially the ceiling of your room that isn’t your room. Your lashes flutter and you’re back loosely straddling John’s lap.

“Yes, love?” He pants, mouth and teeth stained red. It sends a wave of panic through your veins.

You swallow roughly. “I don’t-”

Something shatters - the staccato sound reverberating through the apartment.

You startle, sitting up and throwing your blankets back. The bed is empty, room dark except for the few embers trapped in the fireplace off to the side. You don’t notice the box missing from your dresser.

“Hello?” You frown, standing and moving toward your door as if possessed by some external force. As if you at all know where you are going. Your bare feet pad quietly against the hard wood, door silently sliding open a fraction.

There’s another smashing sound. Your heart rate spikes, fear coursing through your veins. No one’s home - they left days ago. On business.

How do you know that?

Suddenly you’re in the living room of the apartment, crouched behind the couch and groping underneath for one of the silver daggers stashed around in various hiding spots. An insurance policy. Your breath comes in short, rapid gasps. You have to get out. Get downstairs. There’s security down there. They’ll help you, they know you.

How do they know you? How did you know the knife was there?

With the small dagger gripped tightly in your fist, you flinch at another smash. It came from John’s room across the apartment, another following right after. It sounds like this person (or people) tore his metal bed-frame apart. Splintered into pieces.

You take the opportunity to carefully move toward the front exit, allowing the noise to cover the sound of your movements. Damn the open concept design. You told John you didn’t like it. Breaths come in faster and shallow. You’re not built for running - too soft from all that pampering. A chubby, well loved pet. Not that you’re complaining. It’s just not the best for this particular moment.

A figure moves at lightening speed from John’s room to Kyle’s. You duck down behind the kitchen counter, covering your mouth to stifling the sound of your breath.

“I can smell ya.” A low voice taunts, echoing through the apartment. Fortunately, your scent is everywhere. It will take longer to distinguish where you are in particular than he may think.

Why is your scent everywhere again?

There’s more tearing and smashing. A door groans loudly as the intruder tears it off the hinges. More shattering. Your heart breaks a little - that must have been Kyle’s pottery. Oh he worked so hard on those. Some of them are from a century ago.

Anger begins to boil up your spine. Who is this fuck who thinks he can just wreck your home? Someone you know, for sure. He would have had to be invited in at some point. With a sneer you continue making your way through the penthouse, toward the front door. John’s going to rip this fucker in two when he gets back.

Except, just as you’re reaching for the front door, the vampire exits Kyle’s room. You meet his eyes - glinting in the dark of the hall. There’s barely a beat before you begin to rush, opening the door as fast as you can.

Not fast enough, of course. You’re only human, after all.

A scream rips it’s way through your throat as you connect with the far wall, knife clattering who knows where. Something broke, you’re not sure what. Every nerve ending seems to light on fire as you try to sit up. Your arm doesn’t move more than a twitch when you try to stand.

“Hey there, little girl.” The man pins you suddenly. You get the nagging sense that you know him, his name on the tip of your tongue. Buried somewhere under lock and key in your mind.

You thrash, punching at his chest and tearing at his hair. To no avail, of course. He just lets you, a cruel grin spreading wider and wider the harder you try to get away.

“What do you want!” You finally sob, going limp when your body finally gives out under pain and exertion.

“To destroy John’s coven. Obviously.” He huffs. “Yer step one.”

The vampire grabs your jaw in an iron grip, your teeth crack under the pressure as his pupils dilate. They’re bright - so blue and infinite and you can’t look anywhere else no matter how hard you try.

A clarity washes over you almost violently as you come to - like breaking through the surface of water after staying under too long. Everything from yo ur time under washing away, sinking back into the deep. A forgotten wreckage - old and twisted and grown over. Another lost Atlantis somewhere in the depths of your mind.

“John?” The name falls from your lips before you even realize you’re speaking, before his face comes into focus. Soft and familiar - comforting and enraging.

“Right here, dove.” He murmurs, dabbing your face with something damp and cool.

“Wh…” You swallow roughly, not entirely sure what you even want to say. So any words threaten to spill from your lips and yet your mind feels blank. All fuzz and static.

You want to beg him to let you go. To keep you forever. To tell you why he brought you here despite the ever nagging sense that you know why. Something deep in your marrow that connects you to this place - to these men - at the very soul. You are theirs and they are yours and you want nothing more than to run from them as far as you can go.

Those blue eyes focus on yours, so oddly gentle for all of their inhuman qualities. “We’ll talk when you’re better, okay?”

Talk about what? There isn’t anything to talk about. You don’t know them and they don’t know you, no matter what that tugging in your chest tells you. You’ve lied to yourself before - you’ve lied to others before - surely you’re just doing it again. This man hurt you. Marked you, whatever that means, so why do you still melt into his touch?

Your name falls from his lips, reverent and frightening. You blanch, eyes wide and mouth falling open. You didn’t tell him that. You didn’t-

“Just sleep for now, yeah?”

~~~

John watches intently as you fall back asleep. There was panic in your eyes for a moment, but your sick body can’t do much more than drift in an out of consciousness. You look more peaceful this time, at least, your breathing even and your body still. You’d been thrashing before, for what reason he isn’t sure. The lower city’s poison air does a number on the body, it’s effects only growing worse as time goes on and the pollution becomes more dense.

He did that, didn’t he? He left you and now you’re sick and hurt. John runs his fingers over the Mark, nearly entirely healed now. Just two small, faded marks that will follow you to the grave.

“I’m so sorry. I just keep failing you, don’t I?” He sighs. You always said he was a good man even when he didn’t believe it. Even with all the things he’s done. Would you still agree?

John‘s eyes sting. He’d be crying if he was human, surely.

He glances at the door. The others are out - taking care of business while he watches over you. The world doesn’t stop even when you need it to desperately. It took Johnny and Kyle nearly dragging Simon away to leave you alone with him.

He takes your hands in his, guilt wrecking him. They’re so much smaller, so much warmer. He can feel your pulse in every fingertip. Surely he’s ruined any chance to fix this before they could even try. He wouldn’t blame Simon if the man decided there needed to be a change - that John needs to be removed. He wouldn’t fight it.

John crawls into bed beside you like he’s done so many times before. Nestles under your pink silken sheets - the ones you picked out for Christmas. That was years go, now. Over two. Two tortorous, draining years that felt longer than the past six hundred.

He ran for days. Weeks maybe. Tearing through the city block by block, dodging and weaving between people and buildings alike. Speaking to anyone, using up every connection and resource he ever gained under this damned dome. It took a week to get through the sewer system.

No one knew where you went.

No one heard a thing. At least, nothing they would admit to. Even under compulsion.

You were gone, just like that.

Two years go by in the blink of an eye for a vampire. Might as well be a day, a night, a handful of hours. Time in such small increments is nothing to an immortal. Decades are barely enough to measure with. Not for them, though. Every second drug on. The days were long and tense.

A fracture formed between them. Kyle retreated into himself - quiet and frayed around the edges. Sometimes John caught him with a far away look in his eye, staring at nothing. He thinks Kyle would have been crying in those moments if he could. Johnny became far too unpredictable. Ripping and tearing any lower level vampire he can find. He spent a few months hunting Frenzies in the lower city without contact.

And Simon…

Simon turned into a fucking nightmare.

After the first year, they at least hoped to find your body. After the second anniversary of your disappearance came around, they gave up. The guilt of giving up brought a whole new wave of grief on them. Johnny laid in your bed for weeks, nearly beginning to petrify as he denied any blood. John couldn’t blame him, opting to re-read your favorite books with shaking hands. Simon fished your last knitting project, eyes heavy and tired. Kyle meandered listlessly through the house, sometimes laying with Johnny but most often sequestering himself in the now empty greenhouse.

They try to fill the hole with pretty girls that look sort of like you. Never enough and they never act like you. Too busy placating to snap at them like you were so willing to do. These others are only place fillers - something to take up the space you left between them. They could never truly fill it, though. It was far too great. A chasm that continues to swallow the four of them whole.

He’s so tired. The others were, too. Kate handled business well enough but their involvement was still required. Each issue and event weighing on them more and more. Kingpins of the city and they’ve been nearly ruined by the loss of a single girl. A single, human girl. None of it mattered in the face of what they lost.

John looks up, the pin-drop silence in the room bringing his attention back to the present.

And there you are.

Like Lazarus returned. An angel bathed in low, red light. Your hair spills around your shoulders framing that face he knows so well, one he’s held more times than he can count. A face that made him pray to a god he does not believe in every day to get back. Just once. Those unmistakable pearls grace your neck, the ruby latch glinting as you twist your neck and tuck your hair behind your ear.

“I’ll be your Companion tonight.” You say so softly. Almost the way you used to, laid up in his bed, whispering about nothing and everything with your fingers running through his hair. Asking about the things he’s seen with such awe.

“What happened t’ Cherry?” Kyle asks faux casually. John can feel the tension in the man next to him. He’s feeling it out - always so good at that. Better at human subtleties than the rest of them. His dark eyes sparkle, though, with a light John hasn’t seen in so long. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed it.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You slide the tray onto the table. You look the same. You sound the same. There’s a few new scars, some scratches here and there. A wariness in your eyes that wasn’t there before. Damage done to your skin that could only come from the lower city air.

Where have you been?

You shift nervously. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” John says far too quickly, smiling despite himself. It might not even be you. Maybe a doppelganger. A distant relative. A clone is more plausible. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” And oh, John is sure his dead heart comes back to life. It is you. It has to be.

“Fittin’.” Johnny says, eyes raking over you. He might as well be vibrating, struggling to keep himself held back from yanking you into his hold.

They’re all measuring you up the same way he is. Feeling for anything unfamiliar. Outside of your distant, distrustful gaze with a lack of recognition that makes his chest ache, it’s you. It’s all you.

“Do you know who we are?” Simon murmurs. You’re having trouble looking at him, only meeting his gaze in small glances. Not so different from when they first met you. You and Simon have always had a certain… connection. Not that you weren’t all close - that they all didn’t love you deeply - but you and Simon had an understanding. He wonders if you can still feel it somewhere, deep down in the back of your mind.

You’re panicking a little, eyes flitting between their faces. John’s heart sinks. He feels it in the others. A deep disappointment - a turbulent melancholy- seeping into their bodies. You don’t know them. You don’t recognize a single one of them.

It’s all gone.

“It’s not a trick question.” Kyle says gently, ever one to soothe.

“No, sir.”

John’s heart breaks all over again.

A/N: My initial summary for this one was just “Fancy tripping balls on pollution while John and co. have a meltdown”

[awearywritersworld]

she mumbled that i was peculiar

sukuna x reader summary: impressively, sukuna is still trying to find ways to deny his feelings for you. nevertheless, he keeps you safe from harm when a late night trip to the store doesn't go as planned. will seeing his violent nature for yourself change the way you feel about him? he seems to think so. w/c: 4.2k (oops) tags/warnings: angst to fluff. attempted kidnapping. canon typical violence. depictions of blood. reader throws up. reader is in shock for a bit. cursing. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: i'm sorry this took so long! im ngl, i struggled quite a bit to write this chapter. i'm still unsure about the pacing, but here it is anyway. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! series masterlist // masterlist

it's not often that you go out for the evening, but tonight is one such occasion. you leave around seven, excited to meet nobara and maki for dinner.

when yuuji falls asleep a few hours later, sukuna doesn't take over right away. he spends a while in his domain, engaging in what some people might call sulking.

before long, however, he begins to feel restless and he tells himself it's because he's grown accustomed to his finite hours of freedom. of course, it has nothing to do with your absence.

so he assumes control of his vessel's body and pulls a short novel from your bookshelf. settling on the couch, his fingertips brush over the cover: the stranger by albert camus

it's the first time he's ever been alone in your apartment, a fact he's well aware of, and his eyes wander to the front door. it'd be all too easy to pull it open, to make his way downstairs and out onto the street.

how long would it last before yuuji regained control? are you nearby? would you get caught up in the havoc he'd doubtlessly wreak?

the thought makes him grimace. returning his focus to the book in his hands, time seems to pass by faster as he makes his way through the pages.

even so, he deems the narrative a bit boring. in his (what's the opposite of humble?) opinion, dead mothers and nagging girlfriends don't make for the most captivating story, so his mind begins to wander once he happens upon the quote:

"so why marry me, then?" she said. i explained to her that it didn't really matter and that if she wanted to, we could get married. besides, she was the one who was doing the asking and all i was saying was yes. then she pointed out that marriage was a serious thing. i said, "no." she stopped talking for a minute and looked at me without saying anything. then she spoke. she just wanted to know if i would have accepted the same proposal from another woman, with whom I was involved in the same way. i said, "sure." then she said she wondered if she loved me, and there was no way i could know about that. after another moment's silence, she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

sukuna thinks about you— the woman who forced her way into his solitude.

although, what if it hadn't been you? what if the brat had been involved with another woman? would he have eventually taken an interest in her too?

are you really that special, or is he just going crazy inside the cage that is itadori yuuji? the latter is much more likely, right?

he supposes he prefers the idea of madness over... feelings for some human.

all of a sudden, your apartment door seems much more inviting. would it be so bad if he were to step through it? what did he really have to lose?

yeah, that's right. he'll get up any second now and act on every horrible impulse he's been repressing. any second now... any second...

he can't quite figure out why he's unable to bring his limbs to move, weighed down by some force that's beyond him.

it's at that moment the door clicks open and for a split second, he thinks it must be his sign to go, but then you come waltzing in.

"'kuna!" you greet in an excited manner, disrupting the peaceful quiet.

kicking off your shoes haphazardly, you make your way over to him and promptly drop yourself into his lap. it elicits a bout of unwelcome clarity for the king of curses.

no, he wouldn't have taken an interest in just anyone, that much becomes obvious. it wasn't through a medium as flawed as chance that he came to... tolerate you. you're much too annoying for that to be the case.

"hello???" you wave your hand in front of his face. "i'm home."

"i can see that."

"welcome home, darling," you say in a deep voice, a poor imitation of him. "i missed you so much— that's what you're supposed to say."

yeah, definitely too annoying.

"but i didn't miss you." one of his hands comes to rest on your thigh, a betrayal of his preceding assertion.

"you're sitting alone reading—" you pause to inspect the book lying open beside him. "existential fiction about a nihilistic frenchman. of course you missed me."

he changes the topic rather swiftly. "you're drunk."

"i'm tipsy, at best." you roll your eyes. "can't i just be happy to see you?"

"you'd be the first."

"i don't mind making history."

you place a kiss on his lips, casual and affectionate in way that makes sukuna's body stiffen, and stand up.

"i need to get ready for bed, then we're gonna watch tv together because i missed you— gosh, see how easy that was?"

you run off to the bathroom and his body doesn't fully relax until he hears the shower turn on.

the thought of missing someone is a strange notion to him, because it implies eagerness and desire. for as long as he cares to remember, those emotions have been reserved for proclivities much more sinister.

so he hadn't missed you. he just would have preferred it if you stayed home. that's all.

when you return to the living room around fifteen minutes later, you're wearing one of yuuji's shirts, and as far as sukuna can tell, very little otherwise.

making yourself comfortable on the floor between his legs, you pass a hair tie behind you. "can you braid my hair?"

he's watched you get ready for bed enough times that he's fairly certain he can manage it. taking the tie from you, he still asks "why can't you do it?"

"because i'm sleepy," you frown, reaching for the tv remote.

gathering your hair in his hands and carefully dividing it into sections, he sighs. "you require so much looking after."

"you're not going to die if you can't have cookies tonight." sukuna states dryly, glancing at the clock that reads eleven o'clock.

"please don't trivialize my struggle," you begin, pulling on your jacket. "i want miso butter cookies— my grandma's secret recipe."

most of what you need can be found in the kitchen, but a trip to the store is in order for a few final ingredients.

"my mistake," he huffs, rising to his feet. "how insensitive of me."

"oh, it's alright. just don't let it happen again."

"sure. i'll keep that in mind, princess." sliding the apartment door's chain lock off the track, he does little to hide the vexation in his tone.

just as he reaches for the handle, you stop him and wrap a scarf around his neck, forcing a hoodie into his hands. "put this on. you'll be cold."

he looks at you as if you're crazy. "i don't have to worry about things as insignificant as the weather."

"well, put it on anyway," you insist.

he decides that acquiescing will be easier than arguing for the next five minutes and slips the hoodie over head. when you both step out into the chilly air of night, there are still a decent number of people traveling the streets.

stopping at a crosswalk the next block over, you begin to prattle on about what you need to pick up and the different steps in your recipe. naturally, you completely miss it when the pedestrian sign turns green.

"come on," sukuna commands, his hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you along with him. "i don't have all night."

you scoff. "to be fair, i didn't say you had to come with me."

"yeah well it's late. you shouldn't be out alone." there's a hint of exasperation in his voice, like he truly had no choice in the matter.

despite that, once you reach the other side of the street, his fingers slide down your palm and thread through yours.

you glance over at him and find he's looking off to the side, so you bite your lip to suppress your pleased smile. is he avoiding your gaze intentionally? you decide that bashfulness suits him better than you would have expected.

offering him a light squeeze of the hand, you hope it conveys your appreciation of his small display of affection.

"so, are you going to help me make the cookies?"

his lips press into a thin line. "as thrilling as that seems, i don't particularly have a penchant for baking."

"you think you'd humor me a little! you know, since i'm your only friend and all."

"if anyone else asked me such a ridiculous question, they wouldn't live to see tomorrow." you ponder whether he's joking and quickly decide that he isn't. "this is me humoring you."

"you're so mean to me."

"hardly."

"fine," you pout. "then you can't have any!"

"now, hold on." the threat does make him hesitate. you've come to learn that if there's one thing he loves as much as reading, it's food. "let's not be hasty."

you're approaching the store, the sliding doors just a few strides away.

"it's only fair! besides, you're not going to die if you can't have cookies," you throw his earlier words in his face.

he exhales deeply. "have i ever told you how irritating you are?"

"woah! now you're definitely not getting any, mister!"

"alright, alright," he groans as you step inside. "i'll help you bake your stupid cookies."

"perfect!" you exclaim as if you knew he'd give in eventually (you did). "then you can start by finding the miso paste while i get everything else!"

you scamper off before he can tell you not to order him around like some common servant. he's never even been grocery shopping, how the hell is he supposed to find anything in here?

wandering the aisles, he stews over how domestic this is. for god's sake— the king of curses, shopping for ingredients and making baked goods. what have you reduced him to?

just as he considers giving up, he spots the item he's looking for and grabs it so aggressively that it knocks a few packets of instant miso soup to the floor. wrinkling his nose in distaste for the entire experience, he sets off looking for you, though his efforts are to no avail.

he wonders where the hell you could have gone off to when a flickering light catches his eye, filling him with a strange sort of unease.

it's emanating from a narrow hallway tucked away in the back corner of the store. at the very edge of the hall, a phone with a familiar case is lying on the floor, the screen shattered.

his blood runs cold, a sensation that is fully unknown to him, and the miso paste slips from his fingers. he appears in the hallway the very next second and the sight that greets him ignites a furious hostility in the center of his being— heavy and consuming.

you're struggling against one man as he drags you out of the backdoor and into an alley. another man is holding the door open, urging his partner to hurry up.

the hand over your mouth keeps you from yelling, but you're unsure you would have been able to make a sound regardless.

one second you're cast into darkness, and the next, the light seems blinding. the flashing is unceasing and it makes your head hurt.

two limbs are wrapped around your torso, keeping you firmly in place, and your arms are trapped at your sides. you might be kicking your legs, but they may just be dragging along too. you really can't be sure.

there's a thrum of a heartbeat at your back. it's pace is unforgiving, the intensity mirroring that of your own. you've a vague concern that your heart may very well beat right out of your chest.

then there's an abrupt shift in the air and a sickening crack echoes through out the night. crumpling onto the concrete, you think it must have started raining before you realize that the droplets on your face are warm.

you wipe at your cheek and your fingers stain crimson, the color matching that of an increasingly large puddle seeping across the pavement beside you.

there's a heap lying a few feet away and you recognize that it's wearing clothes. it's a sight you struggle to make sense of.

needing to focus on something else, your eyes find sukuna and the expression he's wearing is fierce and unreserved. "tell me what you wanted with her."

you've never heard him speak in such a way. his tone is low, his cadence nothing short of threatening.

"s-s'kuna?" your own voice sounds foreign to you and it goes unheard by him.

he has your attacker pressed against the brick wall of the alley, both hands wrapped around his throat. he's too livid to realize the pressure on his windpipe is preventing him from answering.

sukuna throws him to the other side of the alleyway out of frustration, the man rolling onto his back and wheezing to appease his lungs.

"tell me!" sukuna commands again, louder this time. less collected.

the man scrambles away from his looming figure. "th-they sent us, told us they needed her for an important matter."

"who?"

"they'll kill me if i tell you—"

sukuna crouches down, laughing dryly. "and what do you suppose i'm going to do?"

his eyes are almost unrecognizable to you. they're frenzied— a few shades deeper than the scarlet you've grown so fond of.

"you'll k-kill me either way, so at least i'll die with honor—"

"tch. useless." sukuna waves his hand, and you can hardly comprehend what happens right in front of you.

neat red lines appear across the man's body, then it ruptures into nothing at all. the only evidence that he was ever there in the first place is his blood.

the stench of which is perhaps the worst part— intense, coppery, and hot. it makes your eyes water, and before you know it, you're hunched over and emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

sukuna is at your side in an instant, pulling your hair away from your face, but while one of your hands is braced against the concrete, the other endeavors to push him away.

his body doesn't budge at the contact, but he takes a step back anyway in an attempt to respect your wishes.

your mind is a mess filled with racing thoughts— what the fuck? this cannot be happening. what the hell even happened in this first place? that man was there and then he wasn't.

inhaling sharply, you wipe at your mouth and shift to pull your knees to your chest.

"what..." you trail off, surveying the unutterable, incomprehensible scene before you. "what did you do?"

he doesn't respond, though his features noticeably soften. somewhere in the back of your mind, you know very well what he did, but you can't help repeating. "what did you do?"

"we need to leave." it's not that sukuna couldn't handle whoever might show up, but seeing as this is your reaction, he has no desire to. "if you let me touch you, i can take us home."

you take a moment to think about it, then nod wordlessly. as soon as his hand falls on your shoulder, you're met with that same sensation you felt the night gojo teleported you and yuuji home after one too many drinks.

though this time, the sick feeling in your stomach isn't caused by liquor. you don't stand up, you don't so much as move a muscle when you feel the surface beneath you shift from concrete to carpet.

sukuna breathes out your name, his uncertainty evidenced by the way he's shoved his hands into his pockets. meeting his eye, you reiterate the same inquiry once more. "what did you do?"

it's almost as if you want him to tell you that he didn't do anything. that the whole experience was some disturbing nightmare.

"those men would have hurt you."

"that doesn't mean they deserved to die." you choke on the final word.

"yes— it does."

with that, silence hangs in the air like a suffocating miasma.

looking to your hands, you're reminded of the blood you've been spattered with. "i need to wash up."

you still don't move from your spot, too fixated on your flesh and the dreadful hue that it's been painted with. sukuna notices now that you're trembling.

he approaches you hesitantly before extending his hand. "let me help you."

you decline his offer, shying away from him. "i think you've done enough already."

god, the look in your eye is utterly despondent. he struggles to swallow the lump that forms in his throat.

his arm falls limply to his side and he looks across the room, your copy of the stranger earning his attention.

he's overcome with chagrin when he realizes that his concern brought about by camus' quote the other night was wholly misguided. he'd been focused on his own feelings, whether they were genuine or simply wrought by his isolation.

how foolish was he to ever question what you truly mean to him? with the anguish that's settled in his chest at the sight of your current state, the fact he ever doubted it makes him feel like a hopeless idiot.

had he any sense at all, the part that resonated with him would have been—

she mumbled that i was peculiar, that that was probably why she loved me but that one day i might disgust her for the same reason.

disgust. is that what you're feeling now? he's certain it is.

it was just last week that he relayed the story of his past. you're the only person alive to know the truth of how his wickedness came to be, and you met him with unconditional sympathy and understanding.

you pulled him close and embraced him, but now that you've seen him for what he truly is...? you can barely stand to touch him and it's like a knife to his heart.

you're so fucking warm— like the sun against his skin after weeks of endless rain.

and if you're the sun, surely he is the moon— cold and barren on his own, but brilliant when in the presence of your light.

to be without that? to be without you? it's a prospect too terrible for him to bear. it makes his stomach twist miserably.

you're startled (as is he) when his form falls to the floor, his knees meeting the carpet with a dull thud. he calls out your name again, but this time, his voice cracks as he speaks. "please."

he doesn't have a clue what he's even asking for. a chance to explain? forgiveness? a way to turn back time?

you don't say anything, but you do shift your gaze to him. he knows that he needs to fix this, so he wracks his mind for the right words.

"i didn't enjoy killing those men." he's somewhat surprised to find he's telling the truth.

"you didn't?" your voice is so small and timid that he can hardly decipher your words.

"no. my only concern was to keep you safe— to make sure they never put their hands on you ever again. all i felt was rage and... and... guilt. i should have never left you alone and it's my fault—"

"stop," you interrupt him.

there are tears welling in your eyes, making it difficult for sukuna to breathe. he's positive you're going to tell him that his intentions were of little consequence and that you never want to see him ever again.

instead, you push yourself forward and collapse against his body, your own wracked with violent sobs. the reality of the situation is only just now hitting you. it'd been much easier to focus on what sukuna had done, rather than what almost happened to you.

"i was so scared, 'kuna."

and still, despite the way you're clinging to his shirt and burying your face in chest, he's under the impression that it's him you were afraid of.

"i'm sorry," he tells you earnestly. "i never meant to frighten you."

"n-not of you. those men." you're struggling to speak in between desperate gasps. "why did they do that? what did they want with me?"

"i don't know." though, he is going to find out.

sukuna is not a man well versed in comfort, so he's not entirely sure why he begins rocking you back and forth, but he does it anyway.

when you finally start to breathe a little easier, he mumbles into your hair, "come on. let's get you cleaned up."

he doesn't give you a chance to respond before he scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. setting you down on the counter gently, he searches the linen closet for a cloth.

it's quiet, save for your intermittent sniffling, as he runs it under warm water and wrings it out. his free hand moves to rest against the side of your neck and he dabs at the blood on your face, rinsing the washcloth every now and then.

he tries his best not to show it, but sukuna is agonizing over what might be going through your mind.

do you still feel safe with him? have your feelings changed? do you still love him, even when you've been so harshly reminded what he's capable of?

when you speak for the first time your words are hoarse, barely above a whisper. "thank you for saving me, sukuna."

he thinks about telling you not to thank him, not when it shouldn't have happened in the first place. he left your side, an error in judgement he'll never forgive himself for.

he considers your mortality— your weakness— in relation to his feelings for you. he's always seen this exceptionally human quality as despicable.

but now? all it does is terrify him.

"in the past, i was only concerned with my own whims and desires." his hand moves to cradle your face, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "though after tonight... you have to know..."

it's clear that he's struggling. his eyebrows draw together and his mouth twitches as he ponders his next words.

"i care about you, angel." his voice is hushed when he adds, "very much."

your eyes widen briefly and you murmur his name, but your mind is still reeling from the events of the past twenty minutes and you can't think of anything more to say. you're emotionally exhausted in a way you would have never thought possible.

it's plain to him too, so he knows his next question is selfish, but he can't go on without knowing. "does what you saw tonight change things between us?"

the silence preceding your answer seems to stretch on forever.

"i thought it would," you confess eventually. it was as if you'd put up a wall in your mind separating sukuna the king of curses from sukuna the man you spend your evenings with.

and it's difficult to reconcile the fact that the hands you saw used to murder two men are the same hands that are caressing your face so delicately.

at some point, however, you realized that the only time you felt fear tonight was when you were without him. his arrival and ensuing actions inspired shock and apprehension, though in some twisted way, you knew it meant you were safe. "but it doesn't."

the next question tumbles from your lips thoughtlessly. "does that make me a bad person?"

he chuckles and some of the tension in the room dissipates. "i think i'm the last one on earth that can pass moral judgement on you."

he tucks your hair behind your ear and scans your face, relief coursing through his body when he sees you smile. in this moment, there isn't anything else in the world he would have asked for.

"i guess you're right."

and now, the hand over your mouth is your own, an attempt to stifle your tired giggles. the light of the bathroom is warm and steady. sukuna's hands rest atop your hips, his touch firm but comforting. while you can't feel your own heartbeat, you're positive it must be beating in time with his.

when you crawl into bed that night sukuna pulls you close, your back pressed to his bare chest. you're thankful for the softness of his demeanor, because you need it tonight more than ever.

he doesn't recede to his domain until yuuji wakes up the following morning. he's determined to keep an eye on you as you sleep, to watch the slow rise and fall of your chest with newfound gratitude.

he knows he needs to speak with the brat about what happened. someone is after you and while he hates to admit it, he knows he can't ensure your safety alone.

and he will keep you safe, no matter the cost.

taglist: @96jnie @ay0nha @sad-darksoul @bbysatoruuu @luciiferian @risuola @lirasmoon @disaster-rose @archivist-ghoul606 @creative1writings @sloppyzengarden @omismicrowave @cecesharktales @tanyeonn @hiqhkey @ruixrei @yellowsubiesdance @thefallofruins @anything-and-everything-here69 @emzalot @elusivemoon @annoyingstrawberryballoon @miabiar @hyeon-yi @iluv-ace @thepup356 @browneyedgirl22 @lantsovheiress // users in bold could not be tagged. if i forgot to tag anyone, my apologies!! just give me a heads up.

[thegnomelord]

just read about demon hunter reader and demon ghost cuddling, and the first thing i thought was how ghost would react if, one of these times, reader ends up having a wet dream and dry humping his ass 😋

about time that our demon thinks of getting laid, he's disgusted and turned on at the same time

Sorry this took a while lads :Dd, I'm getting back into writing after all that shit with my school but I got a summer job as an assistant medical worker with 12h shifts every other day so It might take a bit for me to write stuff.

Hush, Hunter

CW:NSFW, MDNI, demon Simon Ghost Riley x male hunter reader, grinding, wet dreams, handjob, blowjob, size difference (demon ghost is like 11 feet tall.)

Your ‘husband’ is strange, even by demon standards.

He grumbles about the inconvenience brought on by your mortal failings and fragility, growling whenever you have to stop at a gas station to buy food or at some dingy motel to sleep. He grumbles even more about being confined in the stolen human skin suit he's forced to wear to blend in.

You can ignore the stranger with the stolen face and hellfire eyes throwing dark glares at you for the most part, except for when the demon decides to make the binding ring around your finger heat up when you spend too long talking to the pretty cashier. And it only takes a few more seconds of not paying heed to the incessant burn before Ghost Simon looms behind you, glaring at the flustered cashier like she’s a fey trying to trick you into the Fey Lord’s court.

And the big bastard never gives you any explanation on why he’s acting like that, just drags you back to your car, slamming the doors closed with enough strength to shake the entire vehicle. He’s like a cat honestly; hisses at you, but doesn’t want to let you out of his sight or claws.

But when your nightmares get so bad your only chance of sleeping is on the floor, well hidden behind the bed with your back flush with the dingy motel wall, Ghost surprises you by laying down with you. Sure he grumbles about the demeaning position - laying like some mongrel dog - but he still does it.

Ghost is on his side, his broad muscular back to you, rough inky scales swallowing all the moonlight that filters through the blinds and turning him into a pitch black wall of muscle. He’s so still you might even think he’s sleeping – you know he’s not; demons aren’t tied to mortal laws, nor are they subject to time’s iron grip, that’s what makes hunting demons so dangerous. The only indication you have that he’s awake is the occasional twitch of his tail and the slight shuffle of his wings when you accidentally get closer to him in your attempt to get a comfortable position.

You flinch when his one wing spreads out and back, but the blanket of black and blood dyed feathers soon eases the tension in your body. Probably too quickly, definitely too quickly, but Ghost doesn’t draw attention to it and neither do you and the night is cold and he is blissfully warm and he stays stock still when you shuffle a bit closer. You're glad he pays no attention to you when you get comfortable against him, barely an inch of space between you two.

His feathers tickle your face, they’re softer than you’d expect a wrath demon to have, fluffy like the down of chicks. His scent invades your nose, rough leather and steel oil and something distinctly demonic you can’t name. . . but it’s strangely comforting.

Laying only an inch or two away from a demon goes against everything you’ve ever been taught. Your nerves should be on a razor’s edge, but instead you’re calm. You don’t know why your fucked up mind finds comfort in the fact a possible threat would need to go through half a ton of murderous wrath demon to get to you. And you don’t want to think about it either, you’ve had far too many sleepless nights for your brain to care how you manage to sleep so long as you do. And the moment you close your eyes, you’re out like a light.

Ghost has gotten used to your nightmares.

Just like his father’s absent love, your nightmares are consistent. He’s almost impressed how such a frail thing like you could hunt the likes of hydras and Hell Dukes when you barely sleep a wink most nights. The longest you’ve gone is a couple of hours of restful sleep before you woke up trying to claw your eyes out. You never talk about it, nor does he, Ghost may be a demon but he knows far too well how the mind can haunt someone.

And Ghost has gotten good at telling apart the individual nightmares by how you squirm in your sleep.

It takes a little longer for the nightmare to start than usual, but he knows you’re neck deep in it when you heart starts it’s frantic drumming in your chest. He ruffles his feathers as your hands grip his sides, your breath fanning over his skin. He thinks it might be the basilisk haunting you this time by the way you press yourself flush with his back, burying your face into the space between his shoulder blades until your nose is flush with his spine, back hunching to further shield your eyes.

Ghost doesn’t, nor will he ever, mention the low happy rumble that escapes him when you snuggle up to him. His feathers fluff up, the scratchy hair of his tail flattening down - about as silk soft as he can make them. It’s little better than throwing pearls before swine, you won’t remember any of this after all, but doing this strangely doesn’t feel as much of a burden as it should.

Usually the low deep purring growling will chase away your nightmares and lull you into a dreamless sleep for a little while, but not this time. You squirm against his back like an eel, muscles tensing to grip his sides until dregs of pain dance along his spine. Your breath fans across his scales, your heart pounding in his ears like that of a rabbit’s caught in a snare. He’s just about ready to turn around and wake you before he feels it—

Your arousal pokes his back, hard like iron.

Only now does he pick up the slight sweetness of arousal in your adrenaline rich scent. “Hm- fuck.” You mumble as you roll your hips to grind your cock against him. “Slow- fuck fuck- slow down.” You breathe out, and Ghost swears this must be another part of his father’s eternal punishment. The sudden thought that your dream is of a sexual nature smites him with all the intensity of his father’s rage.

Who do you think you are, taking his little mercies for granted? Who do you think you are, grinding against him like some mongrel mutt? Who do you think you are holding him as if you are more than the eventual reward for the maggots fervent prayers? Who do you think you are—

“Ghost- Simon. . .” His name, his original name, leaves your lips; it’s the softest he’s ever heard you speak.

“Human.” He seethes and rolls around, pushing the warm feeling –warm like a campfire compared to the blistering pits down below that usually dwell in his chest– out of his mind. “Disgusting.” You’re so small compared to him, your head could easily fit in his rough hand, a momentary lapse in the binding’s protection all that it would take for his flesh rending claws to cleave through your skull. He’s thought about it often, of the look in your eyes as your life fades, of how good your blood would taste, of how nice your shoulder would look with his teeth marks on it. . .

His hand is gentle as he reaches to brush your cheek, like he’s handling glass, rumbling when you lean into the touch. “Wretched thing.” He growls, hand sliding from your cheek to your back and pulling you close. He feels you nuzzle into his wide chest, carefully bullying his thigh between yours, steel hard muscle tensing to give you a good surface to grind on. “Nothing more but a mongrel waste of flesh.” He doesn’t notice how quickly his voice has lost heat, barely above a murmur as he listens to your breathless gasp and watches your back arch.

For someone usually so guarded, you are painfully naked in flesh and soul, responding so wantonly to his touches; from low moans to soft little murmurs of ‘Simon’ and ‘more’ that has him mindlessly rubbing his thigh against your crotch in hopes of getting more of those so painfully human sounds. You moan and nuzzle into his chest, your body like soft clay in his hands now that you’re no longer shackled by the chains of pride and prejudice that your mind conjures around him

You’re like a strange bug to him; a part of him wants to pin you down, to tear you apart with vicious claws and see if there’s anything different in the way your heart beats, in the way your lungs move, in the way you exist — something substantial to show why holding you in his arms doesn’t feel as degrading as it should.

He wonders, briefly, if this is what God saw that made him love Adam so much. Why God did not have the heart to kill Adam for his disobedience.

Greed moves his hands like they’re puppets on strings, flesh rending claws carefully tracing the bumps of old and fresh scars that dot your abdomen — perhaps you aren’t so pathetic, it takes strength to survive this long. Your skin prickles from his touch, your breath fanning over the rough belly scales protecting his front as his hand slowly moves down. He hooks a claw under the band of your underwear and pulls down until your cock springs out right into Ghost’s hand.

Ghost hasn’t seen many cocks before, why would he?, but a low sound comes from his chest at how neatly your cock fits in his hand, how neatly all of you fit against him. And only now does it dawn on him that he doesn’t know how to do this— he’s a wrath demon for fuck’s sake, he understands war and bloodshed like it’s the back of his hand, but this? This is new territory.

Well, he’s never been one to back down when he’s gotten this far.

His hand slowly closes into a fist, just a little loose around you. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t be anything but gentle in the way he strokes you. Your hips move on their own, gentle little rocks to fuck your cock into his fist and he follows along with the motion. It’s a little rough at first, he feels how the dry slide of his hand makes you shiver, but he soon finds a nice pace as your precum eases the glide of flesh on flesh.

He wants to see your face when you moan, but he can’t bring himself to pull you away from his chest when you cling to him so sweetly, your lips mindlessly ghosting over his scales. So he contends himself with coiling his tail around your leg, draping a wing over you so there’s a barrier between you and the rest of the world, so no creature from heaven high or deep below may entertain the thought of taking what’s his.

No good thing lasts for long.

He feels you wake like the first thaw in spring, slow and gradual, eyes fluttering open, mind still clouded with pleasure to really understand the position you’re in. He takes advantage of that, gripping your hip to keep you close, swirling his tumb in the precum beading at your head and squeezing his hand just right to coerce a breathless moan from your chest.

Then your eyes snap open, realisation hitting you with the same intensity as the punch you throw at his skull. But the ‘marriage’ turns that show of force into a gentle caress of the skull cheek of his ‘face’. “Ghost what the fuck are you-” You begin, cut off as another clench of his hand has you gripping his forearm and biting your lip to silence yourself. 

“Oh hush hunter.” Ghost rumbles low in his throat, his wing tensing behind your back to bring you in closer, soft blood dyed feathers encasing you in a cocoon of warmth against his cool belly scales. “No need to wake the other worms.” Disdain and mockery drip from his voice like molasses, yet strangely it doesn’t feel aimed at you. . . it must just be the pleasure making you believe that.

“You- bastard!” You snarl, trying to summon the hunter savagery that had been meticulously beaten into you, but it slumbers like a fat cat. “Fuck off- get away from me.” You aim to slam your fist against his scaled abdomen, just a little lower and to the side where the floating ribs should be, but all you manage is a slow caress of his side and back up his chest where you can feel his eternal soul burning beneath the flesh.

He laughs and slides his hand down, rolling your balls in his wide hand and squeezing just enough to be at the edge of pain– shit, that should not feel so good. You hiss and throw your head back despite the inherent danger of exposing your throat. He tilts his head down, ghostly breath washing over your ear, “We both know if you wanted this to stop you would have done so.” Oh, now you can just feel the mockery in his voice, sweet like honey that it is.

Some petulant part of you thinks of arguing, anything to retain what remains of your damn pride, but then he slides his hand back up, pressing your cock against your stomach and grinding the palm of his hand against your shaft and all the thoughts of arguing are pushed to the side by the tide of pleasure. Fuck, it’s been far too long since you ‘took care’ of things, it’s not like you have much time to wank off, let alone with Ghost hanging over your shoulder like some grim reaper. And hell, if any other hunter heard you let a damn demon jack you off, yours would be the next head put on the stake but. . . but Ghost is surprisingly gentle with you, not a single hint of pain coming from his touches, not even from his claws gently running down your side.

“Fine-” You suck in a sharp breath, head fixed to stare directly at his chest. “Make it quick.”

You feel him smirk against your ear, “As you wish, hunter.” He laughs lowly, like you’re nothing but a cute puppy chewing on his shoelaces, “Though, you should thank me for debasing myself like this.” He growls, and with a sharp move of his wing he rolls you on your back. 

You gasp as your back hits the sleeping mat, and before you can even struggle Ghost looms over you, a wall of muscle and dark scaled flesh. “Fuck no.” You growl, some scraps of pride still clinging to your mind, though even those are threatened when his broad hand returns to stroking your cock, faster this time, the drag of his palm making pleasure sizzle up your spine. Your head rolls back to rest on the mat and you don’t even notice when you close your eyes. You’re not sure how Ghost is so good at this, something sharp like jealousy curling in your stomach at the thought of him doing this to someone else. But it’s hard to think when you can feel and hear him purring, his claws gently tracing your stomach and leaving lingering heat everywhere they touch.

You jump as something slick brushes over your balls, “Look, good hunter.” He growls and you listen without thought, eyes wide when you see his tongue— it extends from the darkness of his head just beneath the rotten upper teeth of his skull, long, black, thick strings of oil coloured spit dripping off his tongue. “That’s better,” He purrs; you’re not sure how he can talk, and you’re unable to ask because he leans in closer until your cock rests against his skull, his hellfire eyes burning in the darkness and giving just enough light for you to see his long black tongue curl around your base like a snake. 

Shit– he wants to kill you.

“Holy fuck Ghost-” You breathe out, lungs burning before you remember how to breathe. His tongue moves, squeezing your base and sliding lower to lap at your balls. You’re forced to bite your finger to stop the painfully pathetic sound burning on your tongue.

He stops moving and you’re thankful he doesn’t mention the whine that slips past your lips. “Simon.” He demands, oily spit clinging to your skin and making it tingle with heat.

“Simon.” You nod along dumbly, “Fuck- Simon.”

“Good.” You imagine he’s smiling when he says that, his hand returning to stroke your cock in reward. “Call me that again.” He says, a purr rumbling in his chest and you can’t help but moan at how the vibrations travel through his tongue, making it act like a vibrating toy.

Your hands fly to grip his horns, the pleasure making you throw your head back yet you try to keep your eyes on him, hiccuping his name between harsh breaths. He doesn’t mind the touch on his horns, leaning into the touch before flicking his tongue at your taint. He rewards you for each time you say his old name, tongue and hand working in tandem to slowly and steadily march you towards release. 

You try to tug on his horns to warn him, or maybe to pull him away, but he pays no heed; he doubles his efforts, wetly slurping at your balls and base while his hand toys with your crown, his free hand holding your hips down so all you can do is weather the pleasure until you’re finally pulled under the waves. “Simon-” You gasp, cum spurting all over his hand and your stomach. 

You watch through lidded eyes as he retracts his hand, keeping his gaze on you as he lazily licks up your cum from his hand. “Better than I expected.” He rumbles, more to himself than you, leaning up to drag his long slimy tongue across your stomach to gather up all your cum.

 Shit, that sight got you hard again before you could even soften.

You’re not sure if the greed you see spark in his eyes makes you scared or even harder, but you’re not left any room to think further about it before his tongue wraps around your cock again.

Unfortunately for you, demons have no concept of time as mortals know it, so his ‘quick’ ends up being the entire rest of the night. At one point you get to the point you’re sure Ghost is trying to kill you with all the pleasure, spit polishing your cock until he’s satisfied and by that point the sun is rising and your voice is hoarse.

You can’t meet the gaze of the motel receptionist in the morning, but Ghost Simon, looks smug like the cat who ate the canary.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Head Canons:

Denial of Desire

Yandere Vampiress x Henchman Fem Reader

TW: comphet, internalized homophobia, denial of feelings, yearning, slowly slippping into madness, yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, murder (threatened), etc.

Ophelia often dismissed you despite your constant concern of her well being. You knew she was a vampire and a mistress of the night, but she consistently put herself in danger. You once loved Ophelia, yet you knew she was straight. It would be rude to impose your feelings on your mistress when she only held distaste for you. Especially since you were nothing more than a servant to Ophelia.

Whether it was to hunt for food or to bring some random man back to her manor, you always had to clean up the mess. It started to get on your nerves since you were still new to being a vampire yourself… yet you had no interest in drinking human blood. Not like Ophelia did.

“Your cleaning skills are subpar. Can’t you do it any better?” Ophelia nagged you as she kicked over your mop bucket with her black pinkie wickers. You sighed, hours of work now ruined in mere seconds.

“My lady, I was simply on the first round of mopping. This quite difficult to remove old blood from the walls and floor.”

“Then find a better way to do it. I need to fetch my next victim soon and I don’t want them to see this mess.” Ophelia gestured to you and the filthy floor. “If you have any complaints, you can simply leave.”

You bowed your head and frowned. No matter how kind you were to your mistress or how you did your best to meet her demands, it was never enough. You were never enough.

“Apologies, I’ll keep cleaning.” You went back to scrubbing the walls and floor. You couldn’t let her rudeness get to you… not until you found a new master at least. Ophelia would be hosting a vampire ball by the end of the week so you may have your chance to flee then?

Ophelia studied your form before she smiled. You never complained no matter how rude she was to you, it was a trait she adored about you. She wished every servant was like you. It would make her life less stressful then… except she knew you were her favorite. You always dutifully fulfilled your every command in a timely manner… Ophelia was positive you’d always stay by her side. Why would you ever leave your mistress? She made you.

Ophelia had brought yet another man home and quickly whisked him up to her room without sparing you a glance. You shook your head at her antics before you decided to explore the manor’s garden to tend to. Despite now being a creature of the night, you still retained your love for gardening. It was just a shame you could never see the flowers under the sunlight again…

Ophelia on the other hand, couldn’t even get past kissing with this man. He was just like all the others before him… no matter what she did, it felt wrong. Being with men made her feel sick to her stomach and the vampiress didn’t understand why.

All her life, her parents told her she’d find a man one day and she could turn him into a vampire to be with her… yet all of them were subpar. Their genitalia disgusted her and they were far too hairy for her. Everything about men was gross other than their blood. That’s all they seemed to be good for…

Ophelia wiped her mouth from yet another messy meal, the vampiress made her way to her balcony to study her night garden. And that’s when she spotted you. What were you doing down there?

Ophelia studied your form as you trimmed up some of the bushes and tended to the flowers. You were so soft looking compared to the men. Soft and delicate like the petals of the roses below… forever young and beautiful thanks to Ophelia. You’d never have to age or worry about sickness. In Ophelia’s mind, she saved you. Yet why did you always look so sad? Was her company not enough for you?

Ophelia rested her arms on her balcony, her red eyes scanned your sullen form in thought. She wondered if her night would be different if it was you beneath her and not the many men she’s brought to her room. If your skin was as soft as it looked… if you were sensitive and lovely- no!

Ophelia shook her head and pushed herself from the balcony in haste. The vampiress ran a pale hand through her Snow White locks in horror. Why would she think of you in such a way? You were another woman… you weren’t a man. You were soft and sweet like fruit but she couldn’t have you. She couldn’t sleep with you because you were a woman. And Ophelia wasn’t a lesbian… she couldn’t be. She had to produce a pure blood vampire, it was her destiny.

Yet her impure thoughts said otherwise. Ophelia knew the truth deep down… she loved you. It’s why she was so mean to you. It was to try to scare you away.

When the ball came around, Ophelia’s breath hitched when she spotted you in your dress. How could someone look so lovely? If she still had a beating heart, she was sure it would burst

Ophelia did her best to ignore you at the ball but her eyes often shifted to you as you danced with other vampires… how could you dance so carefree with other women? Didn’t you feel shame like she did?

It was when Ophelia hung out with a young couple of pure blood vampires that she questioned herself. This couple consisted of two women? Two female vampires could be together? It was okay to be… she had no idea she could make that choice.

Ophelia felt tears gather in her eyes as the two pure bloods reassure her that it was okay to like other women. That they were immortal creatures who could do whatever they pleased.

And that was all it took for Ophelia to go running after you. The vampiress had to confess, she had to tell you how she felt-

Ophelia nearly fell to the floor when she saw you kissing another vampiress. Her dead heart dropped to her feet in shock when you ran your fingers through the other woman’s black locks. You… you were hers. You were her servant and no one else’s!

Ophelia wanted to kill this vampire you touched! How dare she touch you when you were her property! You cannot be with anyone other than Ophelia, herself!

Ophelia rushed forward and separated you from the other vampire. Her breathing ragged and her white hair in disarray. “I am in need of your assistance this instant. You do not have time to fraternize with the other candies here.”

You can’t even protest as Ophelia dragged you away by your arm. You’re speechless when Ophelia dragged you up the stairs towards her room.

“Mistress-“ You’re suddenly thrown to her bed, unable to scramble away since Ophelia lunged at you.

“I hate you…” Ophelia cried. “I hate how you make me feel. How I can’t get you out of my mind.”

“Mistress-“ Ophelia pressed her lips against yours with fervency. Her hands hungrily grasped at your flesh. You’re absolutely gobsmacked at this transgression. What?

“I hate you so much because I love you. I love you so much, it makes me crazy.” Ophelia muttered into your lips. “And I don’t care who I have to kill or what I have to do, I won’t let anyone else have you.”

[hannieehaee]

luna, my beloved,

can i get a very down bad (and also very horny) woozi, please?? he just gives me the vibes of a very obsessed boyfie when he's truly in love.

also, i love your works so much!!!! ♡♡♡

18+ / mdi

content: simp!jihoon, established relationship, afab reader, smut, dry humping, very fluffy, jihoon is insanely in love with reader its disgusting, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, etc.

wc: 2157

a/n: thank u so much!! <3 i rewrote this four times bc way too many scenarios of woozi being down bad plagued my brain (still do), so i hope u enjoy what i came up with <3

masterlist

even after months, jihoon was unable to understand this weird feeling in his chest. one that he only ever got when he was around you (and on occasion whenever he thought about you). it was some sort of inexplicable heaviness. the beating of his heart would speed up and it would feel as if time slowed down. every touch and every breath felt like a sensible decision, and his thoughts would turn into static.

sometimes it was just in the background. sometimes he'd hold your hand or listen to you rant about your day and still be able to act as a functioning human. but there were times in which it simply overtook him.

he had had relationships before; both physical and not, but he had never experienced this feeling before. jihoon was unsure whether or not he liked it. it made him feel weak, but also made him feel more.

there were instances in which this feeling would be accompanied by lust. one accidental peak of a sliver of skin of your thigh and his lips would go completely dry. one grace of your hand a little too close to a sensitive part of his body and his knees would buckle. he was unsure if you knew about how easily it was for you to get him ready to plea for even one touch, but the truth was that it didnt matter. there was no space in his empty head to think about it in those moments.

truth was, jihoon was insanely enamored by you. some (soonyoung) would call him 'down bad' for you, but jihoon liked his term better. being enamored entailed that jihoon adored everything about you, with the pleasure you gave him included among those things. though there were times in which his lust simply grew so big that jihoon could admit to simply being down bad horrendously for you.

currently, that feeling in his chest was ever so present, and he knew that his lust was just about to take over. nothing had yet happened, but still, he felt a desperation that brought a crimson color to his ears. just looking at you as you slept beside him had him holding in a whine of your name.

to be fair, you looked angelic in this moment. you were facing him – although your face was almost completely pressed up against your pillow. your arms were wrapped around your chest in front of you, causing your breasts to press up together in the form of soft mounds peeking from under your tank top. your blanket was covering most of your body but still gave him sight of some of your shoulder. your hair was covering most of your features yet he could still rejoice in your mushed up face as you seemingly made yourself as small as possible. soft breaths coming from you were the only thing he could hear. his senses were all overtaken by you, even as he leaned down and quietly smelled the floral scent from your shampoo.

the beating of his heart was so loud he was sure it ran the risk of waking you up.

it's not that he was nervous, he was simply too caught up in you. every emotion you ever made him feel was making its way to the surface, causing his hands to clam up and his lips to run dry. he wanted to touch you so badly, but he knew that the moment he did, he would fall to his undeniable lust for you. it was hard for him to simply adore you from a distance, as his carnal feelings for you would always take over somehow.

however, his need for you won, making an embarrassing side of himself take over and pull you closer to him in order to wake you up un the softest way he could. he began to pepper kisses on the nude sliver of skin your shoulder offered him, breathing heavily as he prepared himself for what he knew would come as soon as you arose from slumber.

it was only a few moments later in which you began waking up, murmuring his name in that soft morning voice he loved so much.

he hadn't mean to sound so desperate that soon, but the moment he felt you begin to arch against his hold, – encouraging him to keep kissing any available skin – he couldnt help his pleas to let him have you in a way he relished in knowing only he had the privilege of having you.

"a– angel, please ... need you so bad ..." were the first words out of his mouth, murmured against your neck as his hands rubbed at your hips through the blanket.

"hoonie? what's wrong?", you were clearly still half asleep, only taking in his touches but not computing the words he was saying. but it was fine. he could be more specific if need be.

"you're so soft ... so pretty. can i have you, angel? please?" he didnt care how desperate his first words to you that morning sounded. he never felt any shame in showing you just how badly he always wanted you.

"oh, hoonie ...", you breathed, removing the blanket from the way and pressing yourself even closer to him.

the two of you were now curled up against each other with no distance between your bodies as you faced one another. with your lack of clothing, – him in just boxers and you in a tiny tank top and booty shorts to match – jihoon was now able to feel you up as he wanted; something which he took advantage of immediately.

he finally disconnected his lips from your skin, now making eye contact at the close proximity between you. however, before even being able to express his want for you once more, his lust won over him again, making him press his lips against yours with urgency.

he moaned and whined against your lips, his hips searching for yours as he positioned himself above you. there was no way for him to help himself. you were just so soft and pretty and beautiful and perfect. nothing couldve possibly interrupted that cloud of lust that was taking over him.

jihoon still had trouble processing how such a pretty girl could ever be his. he knew he was in love with you since the day he met you. just from a first glance, he thought you the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. speaking to you as acquaintances had been hard, but befriending you had been the biggest challenge. even back then, his feelings for you manifested in very noticeable ways. all his friends would mock him for the way he'd stumble over his words or stare at you a little too much. luckily for him, this did not last long. by some grand act of god, you had found some sort of liking towards him, giving him various obvious openings for him to finally ask you out (and admittedly, it took a lot of silent encouragement from you to get him to finally act up).

upon starting your relationship, it didnt take long for jihoon to make his adoration for you known, constantly letting you know how perfect he found you in any and every capacity. all his defenses would go down when he was around you, causing him to wax poetic whenever his emotions took over him – not to mention the endless files of love songs he had produced since meeting you. anything you desired, he would deliver just for the promise of your happiness.

your relationship had him thinking that maybe his past self suffered a grand deal in a past life; just enough for karmic retribution to grant him the girl of his dreams in the next.

and that's how he felt at this moment, grinding his clothed cock against your cunt as you whined into his mouth. could life get better than this? better than having the love of his life mewling into his mouth as he carelessly canted his cock into the warm heaven between your legs? he couldnt help but groan at the reminder than you were all his, and that he had access to every inch of your breathtaking body for his and your pleasure.

"fuck ... wanna fuck you, but you feel so fucking good like this– shit ..."

"dont stop ... i can cum like this. promise!", you cried whilst pulling at his hair, assuring his mouth stayed glued to yours.

as much as he wanted to keep letting you lick into his mouth and pulling at his hair, he was craving the two mounds that were pressing up against his chest. without further thinking, he disconnected your lips, groaning at the way you tried to chase his lips before hearing you whine once again due to his rushed removal of your top and the feeling of his tongue toying with your tit.

he practically devoured your tits, licking and nipping at every inch of them before using the tip of his tongue to play with your nipples. the way you cried his name had him losing his inhibitions, making him grind even harder and faster against you. your gorgeous and warm cunt was the only thing in his mind.

despite wanting to give you an orgasm just like this, he needed more. he needed your cunt strangling him as he chased both your highs.

"can i fuck you? please ... i know you wanna cum like this, but i cant last ... wa– wanna last for you, but you just feel so ... so fucking good."

"please, hoonie. fuck me .."

he hadnt moved faster in his life, discarding his boxers and your shorts in order to prepare himself for you, but suddenly it hit him.

"baby ... c– condom? do you have any?", he had forgotten to buy new ones before you stayed over last night, so he was hoping against all hope that maybe you had some in your discarded bag in the living room.

"no, hoonie, i .. i don't have any," your eyebrows were furrowed in concern, but he could tell you were still lightheaded from the pleasure you had been feeling just a few moments ago.

"oh, i ... i can just dry hump you? yeah, uh, i'll just–", he couldnt help himself in sounding deflated. he wanted your cunt so fucking badly, but had stupidly used his last backup condom last night.

"or ... you can just .."

his head perked up at that, halting before even starting to grind his hips against yours again.

"baby– "

"just go without it, hoonie. i trust you," you gave him a soft smile, holding onto his cheek before pulling him down for a peck.

"oh, i ... fuck. y– you– " his brain was short circuiting. raw? you were going to let him have it raw? oh. oh, fuck.

"baby, please i need you so fucking badly."

he could never say no to you. as per usual, he gave you exactly what you wanted, ignoring how badly this moment would ruin him; corrupt him and smear his brain with thoughts of your unfiltered cunt for years to come.

and ruin him it did, as he immediately lost himself the moment he entered you, groaning at the warmth and wetness coating his cock.

"you're perfect. god, fuck ... you– you're going to ruin me, arent you? you al-already have, shit ... you're my dream ... love you so fucking much, oh fuck ... make me yours and never give me back, i– i need to be yours. need you every day, fuck, please ..." he babbled senselessly as his hips went crazy against yours, drinking in every cry you released and groaning at every scratch of your nails against his back.

he was already close from having dry humped you through his boxers while he made out with you earlier, but now he knew his end was just around the corner. begging you to cum inside was likely out of the question, but his body demanded he at least try, except you somehow beat him to it.

"baby, inside, please! need you to fill me up ... fuck, please ..."

he had no way to respond other than by crying your name against your neck, relishing on the sound of slapping skin as he chased his end inside you with the desperation of a starved man.

with multiple expletives and confessions of love hidden between cries of pleasure, the two of you came one right after the other, kissing each other all throughout your highs.

now jihoon felt nothing but unfiltered bliss. he held you in his arms and caressed your body to the best of his tired ability, continuing to tell you sweet words of affirmation as you did the same in return.

jihoon was more than fine with being obsessed with you if it meant having you all to himself like this. he would gladly get teased about being down horrendously bad for you as long as he had you in the end.

[smallestapplin]

I too have been enamored with your Autobot Harem and I would like to see more please ...but I'm also picturing how fucking funny it would be if the Decepticons somehow heard about this new human friend and decide to kidnap them for Schemes(TM) So they send one of the minicons to scout things out, to see what this human is about, only to be bombarded with footage of Prowl, of all bots, holding the Autobot Darling in a mating press and fucking them stupid while they cry out his name

The 'Cons are baffled, frightened, and kinda grossed out and promptly nope the fuck outta there and spend the next few days trying to delete it from their memories

And they grow even more distressed when they realize just how *often* the Autobots have their way with you, including Optimus goddamn Prime, who seems to be the most addicted out of all of them, and everytime they try to sneak around there is at least one bot doing something lewd

The Autobots, meanwhile, haven't enjoyed this much peace and quiet for this long in a looooooong while, and they know exactly how to best enjoy it

Cackling at the same brain, but I adore the takes here >:) if you or anyone have anymore ideas don't be afraid to tell me

But I'd love to expand on this

🔞Warning : Autobot harem, Spitroasting, GN!Reader, decepticon pov so everything is referred to in Cybertronian words, non-consensual recording, non-consensual voyeurism🔞

Links to one here and chatting here

-

-

When the autobots don't make any moves it's not unusual, after all it's only when the decepticons attack will they be seen, so why not a stealth mission to try and get some intel and break their silly camaraderie?

Oh it was a genuis plan! Get dirt on them, spread it to their friends, and watch them kill each other instead, getting them out of the way once and for all.

Laserbeak was sent first to map up routes, and see who guards at certain times.

It was normal, it was routine even.

Until laserbeak catches sight (and recording) of you, a little human, slotted between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe.

Sunstreaker rutting into your tight valve, transfluid leaking from where you two connect. His hips wetly slapping into yours. Your stomach bulging from the large spike rearranging your insides.

And you struggling to take Sideswipe's spike in your intake while your digits toy with his valve. Drool and fluid leaking down your chin, tears sliding down your face as you struggle to breathe.

"Takin' our spikes like a champ, sweetspark."

"Such a greedy valve! Keeps suckin' me in like you want me to overload early-"

Soundwave is fast in disconnecting the line, shutting the video off and telling Laserbeak to get back to base prompto.

But that leaves the decepticons in silence.

What had they just seen? Cybertronians can interface with fleshies? What nonsense! That can't be right.

It starts off as disgust, but then they start talking and realizing this has been going on for ages.

"Those twins hate humans out of every autobot, so how did a fleshy manage?" Starscream speaks, venom dripping in his voice.

"Wait...wait remember when we attacked their base to get that energy switch, and we came across them, and Prowl nearly offlined Thundercracker?"

The room falls silent again.

Every instance comes flooding back to them, ones they would have never thought twice about are all starting to make sense. The autobots always became a bit more aggressive and protective when it came to defending you.

Even Optimus Prime himself nearly offlined Rumble for getting close to you, before picking you up and placing you with Bumblebee to get to safety.

"So...are all of them with one human or just those two?" Skywarp didn't even want to know, but of course if there is some weird romance thing going on, they could probably use that to their advantage.

Megatron sighs, looking to Soundwave "Tell Laserbeak to go back and pick up more evidence, as much as I hate to say that."

The larger bot sneers, loathing the idea of seeing more.

But Soundwave and Laserbeak do as told.

The minicon avoids the area he first saw you, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker, making an effort to thoroughly explore the other areas, making note that Prowl and Jazz seemingly take guard duty at night.

By the next day you and those twins seem to have went back inside the base, where Laserbeak couldn't reach.

"Sir, we might need to send someone to sneak inside their base."

Megatron glances at Soundwave, who doesn't look away from the screen. They both know getting inside that base will be dangerous, especially with how protective those bots are when you're involved.

"Let's hold off on that, since they seem to enjoy fragging outdoors, I'm certain we will get something else."

Soundwave nods, and continues watching as nothing interesting shows up on camera.

Starscream groans, rolling his optics not believing this is what they are up to anymore, just waiting to see some human all bare taking a spike much too big for them.

How patheic!

He could easily break your valve in, much better than those autobots!.....wait...NO! He shakes his helm, getting rid of any thoughts of you he's having.

Grumbling himself about your stupid attractiveness, you're just some stupid fleshy that's probably so soft compared to him, and no doubt your valve would struggle to take him.

But he keeps up a disgusted act, not wanting anyone to know what he's thinking.

However Thundercracker is silent, optics not leaving the screen, watching whatever Laserbeak catches on camera.

His expression looks bored, but he's freaking out inside.

He can't believe a human could actually handle interfacing with a Cybertronian, and you took two like a champ! You look so cute, pretty valve stretched so wide just to take Sunstreaker.

Greedy little thing.

He wants you, he wants to know what it's like, wants to leave here and live somewhere peacefully with you in some far off woods.

He's only here out of fear.

But he can't believe he's letting himself fall for a human he's barely met, but he can't stop his thoughts from trailing off to you, picturing you crying out begging him for more.

He wonders how your valve tastes, and if you'd like he bury his glossa in your heat.

Thundercracker is broken from his thoughts by Starscream screeching.

"Have they no shame!?"

Several optics look back at the screen, only to see you with Hot Rod.

The flashy bot clearly rushing off with you, giggling as you two go through the trees to get a peaceful spot away from base.

Faintly through Laserbeak's mic they can hear you.

"Oh, you don't know how much I missed you, little light!"

You giggle, finding all his kisses to be tickling you.

"I missed you too, Roddy. I hope your missions haven't been to exhausting." You kiss him in turn, smiling when he lets out a dopey chuckle.

"Nothing I can't manage, I just wanted to get back to you safe and sound."

"Something tells me that's not the only reason." You tease him, your poor lover gives you a pleading expression.

"I got all my work done? Missions were a success since the decepticons have been quiet, oh! And I got my reports done!"

He's shaking, nearly vibrating in place waiting for something.

But you let out a dramatic sigh, playfully shaking your head.

"I suppose since you've been such a good boy then."

You kick your pants off, tossing them to the side, before plopping yourself down on his servo, spreading your legs wide for him.

"A good boy deserves a reward, right?"

Hot Rod drools, muttering 'thank you's over and over again as he buries his glossa into your greedy hole.

Moaning with you, unable to help himself when you taste so good!

The decepticons all look at each other, then to Megatron, awaiting his orders but even he is baffled.

Just how many bots do you have after you? How many do you already have under your thumb? In the fights where he has gotten close to you, you reek of Optimus far too strongly.

So you're with him too.

Do you have the entire autobot base at your beck and call?

"Megatron, what are your orders."

Soundwave's voice shakes him if his thoughts.

"If we can get ahold of that human, we might have our answers, however I'm not even sure we can with how frag addicted those filthy autobots are."

"Seems the human is never alone either, which would make that even harder."

Just what have they gotten themselves into?