#or obey me there’s so many more. but my point still stands his existence in a series just automatically make the series better (i’m 100% +

[lesbiansonamy]

yknow what’s better than having good omens hyperfixation? mixing sonic to the mix bc im OBSESSED to analyzing how characters of various franchises reacting to the little guy (a multifaceted little hedgehog who’s faced god(s), alternate dimensions of his own self, and an enjoyer of ancient literature in his free time)

and since no one else is making that content, i’ll be doing it myself. so without further ado, i hope u enjoy !!!

sonic and good omens crossover

i feel when they meet, despite being immortal beings that have experienced more than the human mind could ever comprehend, aziraphale and crowley react to an anthropomorphic talking blue hedgehog that’s suddenly falling into their world like any other human beings: they are TERRIFIED

well. terrified as one can be at 15 year old pubescent teenage hedgehog. because after their initial fear, they’re just. Fucking confused at him and his existence; how does a creature come to be in this world? they’d ask their respective sides if they didn’t want to deal with the mess that comes with it

sonic claims that he's “used to being isekaied” (“whatever that means,”crowley mumbles) and he’ll be “fine on his own” (“fine my arse!”) but aziraphale INSISTS that the lad has a roof under his bed because anthropomorphic hedgehog or not, he is NOT letting a teenager be homeless

sonic initially thinks aziraphale is kinda overbearing and crowley is way too overprotective bc like. He’s fine! hes dealt with situations more extreme than being transported to another world (my man (gender neutral) literally DIED & was tortured for 6 months straight in a war) yet hes getting help here; it almost feels like hes being looked down on and he does NOT appreciate it

he doesn’t reject their help but he’s not the most receptive either. whenever aziraphale tries to have tea breaks, he’s “away” (out on a run) or asleep (coincidentally the same time it’s tea time)

it’s only when aziraphale catches him browsing his books and jovially gives him a few book recommendations of his own (because bookworms never have just One Rec) that he lets the two in. it’s when he starts to genuinely like the two

one fact that goes untalked about is that sonic is an AVID reader. like. my hedgehog canonically has read WAR AND PEACE in the wreck it ralph 2 movie. so getting his own personal recommendation from aziraphale means a lot. he can not only have new literature but better understand aziraphale as a being—not angel or demon, but just being. book recs can say a lot about a person after all

eventually accumulates to aziraphale bonds and sonic bonding over books. aziraphale loves giving him recommendations—but ironically, has to slow down for him bc my speedy boy (gender neutral) is what i hc as a slow reader (opposite of a bookworm).

in essence, aziraphale adjusts his reading speed accordingly so sonic can keep up with him, much like sonic does for his friends (tails). something something parallels <3 they have tea and biscuits when they’re done with a book and discuss it together. aziraphale loooves talking about the deep meanings of things, while sonic enjoys listening to him. he also listens to aziraphale talk about book bindings and smile, simply bc it reminds him of his home (wherever his friends are: tails)

crowley sees all this bonding and is secretly like 🥺🥺 bc it’s not often u see aziraphale so. Doting in regards to his special interest (books, especially book collections) so he gets sonic more books for him to read. or in aziraphale’s case, keep in his bookstore. sonic isn’t much of a hoarder so he’s like. “you can sell them when i’m done” but both are too attached to the symbolism

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 3: The Escape

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: fluff, BANTER, slight injuries, violence, sacrifice (if you squint), bad weather (if that's a warning?), Anakin is a menace, Obi-Wan and Reader get pretty close at some point 👀.

Summary: With your true identity revealed, it's determined that you must accompany Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka back to The Jedi Temple on Coruscant. However, a number of setbacks block your escape from Hoth— some atmospheric, a few mechanical, others tall and hairy.

Song Inspo: Independence Day — Neil Finn

Words: 6.2K

A/n: Thank you for the continued support!! Looking forward to hearing your opinions on this chapter. Remember to comment a request to be added to the taglist if you'd like to be on it :)

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Series Masterlist

‘Tis fate diverts our course, and fate we must obey — Virgil

“Wow.”

Anakin leaned back in Obi-Wan’s former seat, supporting his head with hands nearly intertwined. You watched as the gears turned, his mouth loosely open and eyebrows tensed.

“And you’re…?”

“Yes.” You confirmed.

“And your master is…?”

“Yup.”

“And your eyes are…?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Because…?”

“Yes sir.”

He lifted a hand with a finger loosely pointing in the air, mouth agape before stopping himself. Confusion washed over his expression. You reveled in the brief peace as Anakin returned to his thoughts. But that gift did not last nearly long enough.

“And your…”

“Let’s just assume the answer is yes.” You interrupted while raising a hand to cut him off, closing your eyes in irritation.

You were reaching your wit's end.

“Obi-Wan took this much better.” You murmured, rubbing your temples.

Anakin grumbled, crossing his arms in defense. “Well, Obi-Wan isn’t The Chosen One.”

“Obi-Wan is standing right here.” He gibbed from his perch just beside Anakin’s seat, a hand resting on its ear with legs loosely crossed.

“Well I, for one, am glad we found you.” Ahsoka interrupted from her place crisscrossed on the floor. She locked her mischievous eyes with yours, a smug smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Someone needs to keep my Master in check.”

You beamed brightly, wordlessly thanking her for the support. Then, a sudden spark went off behind her eyes. Her head tilted quizzically at you.

“Wait, how did Qui-Gon find you? I mean, it sounds like The Order had no idea you existed, so it’s not like he could’ve found some record of you.”

You thought of her words carefully, looking up to the ceiling to delve into your memories. The other two Jedi turned toward you expectantly.

“I’m…actually not sure.”

You took a moment, trying to remember any information your Master dispensed about your beginnings.

“When I was very young.” You started. “I once asked Qui-Gon if he was my father. I was still trying to understand concepts like Master and family through my studies. And as the only human I’d known, his presence was very confusing.”

You smiled at the memory of your childlike imagination. “Obviously, he said no, explaining concepts like Master and Padawan and their disconnection from familial bonds. But in that conversation, he told me my parents had passed.”

Anakin nurtured a commiserate expression.

“I’m sorry.” He said in a soft voice.

It was then that you noticed how your story stirred The Chosen One— like dark storm clouds behind his eyes. A saga of sensitivities swirled behind his pupils.

You appreciated his empathy, and conveyed a grateful glance, watching as he nodded with postured stoicism while leaning back once more, arms crossed. Underneath all that brazenness, there seemed to be a very caring individual, you thought to yourself. And he didn’t hide it well.

Dragging yourself from the interaction, you once more delved into your past. You watched the three Jedi as the most likely theory formed.

“If he knew that…that my parents were dead, I assume he must of discovered me around then.” You shrugged at your pervasive cluelessness on the subject. “Or, maybe it was blind luck many years later, much like our first meeting. Who knows? My memories of that time are cloudy.”

“In my experience, there is no such thing as luck.” Obi-Wan expressed, smiling at you with a wise impression.

The corner of your eyes crinkled at his kismet reference as the four of you breathed into the weary silence. These hours of conversation had clearly drained the room of all its energy. It felt as if the previous night’s sleep had been stretched out of you by the very words unleashed into the air.

You were sure the revelation of your destiny and connection to Qui-Gon acted as a fountainhead to the mental fatigue that soaked through the shelter’s inhabitants. Your account was evidently transformative to these Jedi. It presumably forced them to question lifelong-held beliefs about your former Master and The Chosen One prophecy. Qui-Gon was always very clear with you about his efforts to keep you a secret from the Galaxy. You guessed that also meant from Anakin himself.

Maybe that’s why you felt incongruity bubble up within you. It was a strange experience, explaining your purpose in another being’s life without them having any previous knowledge of your existence. And despite the coherence of The Guardian’s destiny, you suddenly felt misplaced. Especially when you observed The Chosen One’s reactions.

Anakin’s furrowed eyebrows and slightly parted lips clarified his stupefaction. Yet just below the surface, you sensed the slightest sliver of tension escape his force. A sort of uncertainty that leaked from his figure.

His sudden arrival was unexpected, mostly because you thought the first contact would be more grand, precise, and deliberate. You believed all your life that one day Qui-Gon would arrive to tell you it was time, only to load you onto a starship with the Jedi Temple as its heading. There, a formal introduction would take place of great fanfare with all of the Jedi masters in attendance. A symbol of The Order’s strength of unity against the Sith in their centuries-long conflict.

But instead, here you were, by the Force’s will, sitting in front of The Chosen One who had just happened to crash land on the very planet you took refuge on. And while you were confident in each word that escaped your breath, your disorientation was still amplified by the shard of doubt that split from him. Qui-Gon wasn’t here to help you tell your story like you always dreamed he’d be. So it was up to you alone to advocate for your place in the Galaxy.

You knew Anakin’s hesitancy stemmed from the sudden discovery of your existence and, mostly, The Guardian’s unexpected tie to him. As you ruminated further, you noticed that it was much like your sudden imposter syndrome. Both of you clearly lacked the tools to approach a discussion of this magnitude.

And it was a strange comfort, knowing that you both felt equally disquiet about this meeting. Maybe the two of you were far more intertwined than you first truly realized.

To your side, Ahsoka’s bright smile was difficult to ignore from her place crossed on the floor. It emanated delight as her eyes ricocheted between you and Anakin, her tilted cheek resting on a fist. You found her to be the most accepting of your connection to Anakin’s path.

In conversation with the three of them, you discovered her to be Anakin’s new Padawan. It clicked that she likely saw you as some positive cosmic influence on the Master she held in high esteem. You were equally grateful for her connection to Anakin. Ahsoka herself seemed like a wonderful young Jedi. You admired her outspoken nature and youthful buoyancy, reminding you of yourself as a young trainee.

It was also reassuring to know that there was another person close to Anakin that you could learn from. After all, to best support and protect The Chosen One, you needed to know him well. Qui-Gon taught you that. And that meant understanding not only him, but his close associates as well.

That too included Obi-Wan, who seemed relaxed, almost grateful, since he fully accepted the truth. His shoulders were loose and eyes hopeful throughout the second rendition of your story. After giving up his seat, the older Jedi stood comfortably by Anakin, silently supporting him from behind. It made sense since you learned he was Anakin’s former Master.

Your inferences were based solely on his outward expressions, failing to register anything he released into the Force. Clearly, once the bearded Jedi recognized your force sensitivity, he found it best to firmly conceal his emotional connection to his signature, much like his other companions. If you had paid more attention to your first meeting with the Jedi, you may have realized his ability to manage this connection to the Force. His heightened control when in the presence of other Jedi would’ve dwarfed the loosened attentiveness he held around non-sensitive beings, as when he shared your company alone in the shelter.

You remember one of your first trainings with Qui-Gon was on this very topic. However, he did not only teach you how to protect your mind. Qui-Gon spent many sessions gifting you the longest and most in-depth lesson you experienced— Force Stealth.

He was always sure to remind you that for many years, it would be your most vital skill. Your former Master chided you on the need to be highly maneuverable in this field of force study to stay alive. Completely hiding your force signature was the only sure way to prevent your discovery by either side, especially the Sith. These Jedi only protected their thoughts, you mused inwardly. But once you realized this, Anakin’s readable distress became particularly perplexing.

Your mind was still saturated with anachronism to think too deeply about these matters.

Yet, you still lacked despondency, despite learning of your late Master’s passing. It had been nearly a decade since you last saw him. Maybe that’s why in the last few years, you occasionally surmised deep down at the base of your subconscious that he’d passed, leaving you stranded on Hoth alone.

But it still felt impossible to believe. Maybe that’s why you were holding it together. Or maybe some part of your heart had accepted Obi-Wan’s words, but it just hadn’t sunk in yet. Or maybe these swirling battles within you were too distracted by the initiation of your prophetic path to land that last punch of unavoidable, bitter truth.

“Well…” Anakin began.

You jolted from your thoughts.

As you registered his questioning intonation, you inwardly moaned, mentally preparing yourself for the next set of inquiries you thought ended a while ago.

He sighed. “There isn’t that much room, but I’m sure we can find space for a fourth in the shuttle’s cabin.” Anakin grinned.

A feeling of delight bubbled in your stomach. In all this time of discussion and deep contemplation, you hadn’t had the chance to really ponder the life-changing ramifications of this meeting. That included leaving Hoth, possibly forever, for the first time in a very long time. It meant meeting new people, a new planet, with a big new city that you’d only heard about through Qui-Gon’s tales. For someone who grew up in isolation for their entire existence, this revelation was overwhelmingly exciting, and somehow nerve-wracking.

“I sure hope so. Last time I checked, there were four seats installed, unless you destroyed one during your repairs.” Obi-Wan jested.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

If the four of you were to leave this planet soon, the state of those repairs would be a determining factor, you thought.

“So I take it the shuttle is fixed?” You inquired.

Anakin shrugged. “Eh, mostly.”

He seemed to notice the apprehension grow on your features as he quickly explained.

“I mean.” Anakin stuttered. “The engines are fixed and the shuttle can take off. But there are a few holes that lead to some important places. So they need to be plugged.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms, seemingly unimpressed with Anakin’s understatement. “I assume you’re referring to the holes in the main hull.”

Anakin sighed despondently. “Yeah.”

This complication certainly posed a roadblock to escape, but it only took a moment for you to realize that the solution was directly in front of you. Or more, all around you.

“Well.” You chewed over your thoughts as you phrased them. “If I won’t be here for much longer, I’m not gonna have much use for this shelter. Could we salvage its parts to seal any cavities?”

Anakin perked up at your suggestion, glancing around at the hull. “I…think that may work.”

“Great!” You clapped your hands, hope radiating throughout your body.

“Let’s get started.”

—

It only took about an hour to determine the shelter’s best specimens, extract them, and then prepare them for transport for the final phase of repairs. Anakin and Ahsoka were quick to load the materials into makeshift bindles constructed from your blanket collection.

You recall commenting on his pace: his evaluation of the manual, the previous restorations, the speed at which he tore out the necessary fragments from the shelter— it was all done in great haste. And his defense of this unwavering initiative was most amusing.

“I hate the snow. It’s like sand, but it gets you all wet.”

Fair enough, you thought.

That was many hours ago. Anakin and Ahsoka had long ago left for the shuttle to complete the repairs, and you and Obi-Wan were now just on the way to join them. You readjusted your grip on the lichen bag once again slung across a shoulder, this time filled with a few possessions rather than a slimy lunch.

As you moved through the new layer of snow that accumulated overnight, you thought back to how difficult it was to ignore the cold chills that scurried down your bare arms in the shelter when you were collecting your things. The exposed snow, apparent due to the missing paneling, destroyed the warming effect of the old ship’s hull.

You never referred to the old ship as your home, knowing that eventually, you would leave that place to start your journey. But that wasn’t your only reasoning. It wasn’t your home because it was a refuge, a place for asylum, for development, to prepare you for The Chosen One’s arrival, without risk of being destroyed by the Sith— at least not before you were ready to face them.

In all honesty, you were still unsure if your training would satisfy the needs of the path ahead. However, the Force seemed to believe you were prepared to begin this quest, so you had to trust in that.

You refocused your memories, thinking back to when you were collecting a few of your favorite holobooks discussing The Old Republic Jedi and the Jedi-Sith War, which you laid out on your desk as you packed. Qui-Gon’s first gift, a navy blue-based blanket with gold shimmers, was neatly folded beside them. As you clipped your lightsaber to your belt and shrugged on your warm Wampa cloak, you allowed your gaze to wander throughout the shelter until it was stopped by a glint from a thin slit in the curtain.

You stared carefully at the item that caught your eye. It hung from the back wall and clearly made its desire to accompany you well known. A breathy laugh escaped you as you shook your head. You ruminated while walking up to take the half-circle metal headpiece. How could you ever forget what you lovingly referred to as your Second Master.

“Is that The Muntuur?” You turned to the voice and were met with Obi-Wan’s expectant demeanor.

“Yes.” You strolled to your desk, Obi-Wan following close behind.

“If the Force believes that it’s prepared me enough to begin my voyage, then it shouldn’t hurt to bring it along. To keep me fresh.”

Picking up the lichen bag, you began to fill it with the laid-out belongings. It was hard to miss the intrigue dripping from the man behind you as you wrapped The Muntuur in the blue blanket. You placed it in the lichen bag, which you sealed shut with the drawstrings.

“Don’t worry.” You reassured. “Although there isn’t time to experiment if we have any hope of reaching the ship before sunset, I promise we’ll find time for the device once we arrive.”

Obi-Wan’s expression brightened at your offer. “I appreciate that.”

Then, a thought crossed your mind. “We are going to The Temple, right?”

He nodded. “Yes, straight to Coruscant.”

When you later left the shelter for the last time, you were faced with your most difficult goodbye.

Meetra was grooming her arm with wet laps when the two of you emerged from the hatch. As you let it fall closed with a thud behind you, the friendly Tauntaun raised her head in curiosity, sniffing the air for any aroma of danger.

You approached Meetra, placing each hand on her neck once more to feel her warm, thick fur.

“This is bye, for now, Meetra.” You cooed, moving your hands to pull her head down, placing a light kiss on her right tusk. “I’m gonna miss you more than you know.”

And with one last pat on her chest, you turned to make your way to the shuttle. Out of the corner of your vision, you noticed an indiscernible emotion resting on Obi-Wan’s face as his eyes peaked at you subtly.

You glanced at his following figure. He quickly acknowledged you with a copy of your bright expression. You observed his fine guise through a pregnant pause before swiveling back toward the path ahead, brushing off the interaction as the two of you continued the expedition.

Now, you both were hours into your trek, trudging through snow troughs and avoiding ice patches as the freezing wind whipped your hair, occasionally blocking your vision.

Obi-Wan seemed to be fairing just as well, a hand blocking his face so that he could see through the falling flakes. It sounded as if the Maker himself was trying to whistle for the first time from the skies.

“Why did you leave the Tauntaun behind?” Obi-Wan projected over the heavy gusts that began to pick up.

“She wouldn’t have found her way home without me.” You called out. “We‘ll be fine on our own.”

Another powerful blast of glacial wind threatened to knock you and Obi-Wan over. You both stood your ground before attempting to continue the trek during a rest in the gusts’ pull seconds later.

“We will see.” He wondered aloud.

Your gaze dropped as you tried to focus on one step at a time. While you’ve experienced the rough Hoth weather plenty of times in the past, you haven’t had to travel through it without Meetra’s help. You knew this planet well, and Obi-Wan was right. If the budding storm worsened, it could not only threaten any non-planetary beings on the surface, but also prevent the shuttle from taking off— at least not without the engine’s stalling.

Glancing up, you were now able to see the ship in the near distance, blurred by the thickening snowfall.

“Hey!” You called out, grabbing Obi-Wan’s attention with a wave. “Only a few more minutes.” You loudly assuaged, pointing at the now upright shuttle in front of you.

He nodded.

You had only taken a few more steps when a high-pitched mechanical squeal permeated the atmosphere. You contorted at the painful drone, covering your ears. Obi-Wan was similarly hunched over, trying to block out the sound. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the uncomfortable tone left.

You turned to Obi-Wan as you regained your posture. “What was that?!”

“I don’t know!” He stepped forward. “We need to get to the ship!”

You nodded as the two of you picked up the pace, much like the volume and intensity of the storm. As you neared the shuttle, Anakin and Ashoka’s figures became clearer in the growing whiteout engulfing the region. Anakin was loosely hanging from the side of the viewport by one hand, his feet swaying, as he finished sealing the hole in the transparent steel with one of your shelter’s panels and a lightsaber. Ahsoka was yelling something unintelligible from below before Anakin readjusted and jumped down to join her, continuing their conversation.

Soon, a kaleidoscope of warm tones caught the corner of your eye, turning your head toward the first sign of the coming dusk. This was beginning to be very bad, you thought to yourself. You started to forcefully jog through the trapping pressure of the snow, Obi-Wan matching your speed.

And in a few moments, their words became clearer.

“…need to get out of here!” You caught the last part of Ahsoka’s sentence as you and Obi-Wan caught up to them. The strong frigid gusts became sonorous, lasting for minutes at a time. Even with the aid of the Force, you were having difficulty keeping your feet planted.

Finally, you found your footing. “What on Hoth happened?!”

Anakin’s head spun toward you. “Who says that?!”

“They do!” Obi-Wan rebuffed. “Now what happened?!”

“I think I triggered some old security system while repairing the last hole in the viewport!” Anakin explained. “It doesn’t matter!”

Darkness started to creep across Hoth’s miles-long white blanket at an almost imperceptible rate, but fast enough to begin sinking this side of the planet’s temperature down to dangerously low levels.

Suddenly, you felt a shift in the land nearby. You took a moment, closing your eyes and breathing deeply to reach out to the impression.

“We need to leave now!” Ahsoka yelled. “If the storm gets any worse we’ll be stuck!”

The energies were large. Towering but swift. A violent rage and cavernous hunger penetrated your senses.

“It may matter.” You whispered to yourself.

You opened your eyes, glancing at Obi-Wan who mirrored your actions.

“Do you sense it?” You asked lowly, but loud enough to be heard over the howling storm.

Obi-Wan faced forward, closing his eyes. It looked as if his nose was being pulled into the distance as he dug into the Force, brows creased and lips pursed.

His eyes shot open at the three of you. “We need to leave, now!” Obi-Wan started to jog toward the shuttle’s entrance on the opposite side, you, Anakin, and Ahsoka hard on his heels.

The dimming light began obscuring your vision.

“What is it?!” Ahsoka questioned.

“A pack of Wampas!” You answered from behind. “Obi-Wan, they won’t let the shuttle take off! We’ll need to deal with them if we have any hope of leaving this planet!”

“It’s too dangerous!” Obi-Wan argued as he lept at the shuttle’s entrance stationed about three feet off the ground.

Landing, he rested a hand on the handle before turning to face the three of you. “Fighting anything in this weather will get us killed. Let alone the number of beings I sense.”

“Doing nothing will get us killed!” You maintained. “In the time it takes for us to prepare for takeoff, they’ll rip the hull to shreds!”

You took a moment to briefly reconnect with the life forms around you, registering how dangerously close the Wampas now were. Suddenly, what sounded like a gurgled scream combined with a deep-bellied roar echoed from a hundred feet away.

Anakin spun in the direction of the cry, grabbing the hilt of his lightsaber.

“Snips, start the engines!” He stared into nothingness beyond the blinding storm, now plunged in darkness. “Yell when we can lift off!”

Igniting his saber, he took a few cautious steps forward, its blue glow reflecting off the snowflakes falling around. You copied his actions, activating your weapon, the gray of your saber blending more with the environment. You listened as Obi-Wan jumped down from the shuttle’s door, landing behind you and Anakin as Ahsoka leapt to the access point and let herself into the ship. The hiss of his saber sounded, it adding to the blue luminescence by casting a subtle shadow of part of your form.

The three of you stood wordlessly while the bellowing wind buffeted each of your cloaks and wheezed past your ears. It was impossible to hear distant footsteps beyond the unrelenting noise, so you focused on your senses and any images gleaned from the sabers’ radiance as the icy chills began to stiffen your muscles.

Out of the oblivion emerged a barely perceptible, large white mass running directly toward you at full speed. In a second, its right claw was poised for attack, a roar of a thousand voices emanating from the bloodthirsty Wampa.

You reacted quickly, vaulting over the beast and slicing off its attacking arm with the shadow of your saber, its wails echoing into the distance. You shifted into a flip mid-air, facing the creature’s wide back in time to lift your saber above your head and stab it, dragging the blade down as you descended. Once you landed comfortably on your feet, you watched the Wampa slump to its knees, letting out one last pathetic wail as its body collapsed into the snow, emptying the air of a little noise.

As if answering the cry, the sound of the shuttle coming online reverberated across the frosty plains.

Anakin relaxed his spine upwards from his attack stance. “That was easier than…”

A clamor of Wampan growls and wails erupted from behind as you whirled around to face them. The sheer number of sprinting giants made their footfalls thunderously loud above the tumultuous drones of the snowstorm. Anakin swiftly crouched back down into an offensive posture while you tightened your stance.

“You always have to speak too soon!” Obi-Wan commented boldly as you watched him raise his saber.

Before you knew it, seven Wampas emerged from the dark snowfall only feet away and headed straight for you.

“Uh, a little help!” You called out.

Anakin and Obi-Wan charged each flank of the pack, taking two each to distract while you dealt with three of the massive snow brutes. Their bodies built for blizzards moved agilely as you struggled against the heavy winds and trapping snow drifts. You were avoiding their blows by mere inches, making it impossible to launch an offensive.

“They seem to like you!” Obi-Wan quipped. He incapacitated one of his attackers with a blade through the side. Its dying cry only seemed to intensify the others’ aggression.

“I don’t think they’re happy that I skinned one of their brethren!” You retorted, referring to the Wampa cloak draped around your shoulders.

Finally, you found an opening to cut off the legs of the leftmost beast, causing it to crumple to an icy grave in a pained howl.

“I believe their anger is more related to a certain piercing alarm.” Obi-Wan sassed while dodging a particularly nasty attempt to bludgeon his head.

Anakin seemed to be faring equally well, having successfully cut off the head of one Wampa and aiming to finish off the other.

“I get it!” He yelled over the battle. “Blame The Chosen One!” You could hear the smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes, barely missing a swipe at your neck from the deed. You took the opportunity to lob off both of the attacker’s paws, paving the way to kick him with a grunt to the disturbed sleet beneath you.

“Are you sure he’s The Chosen One?!” You called out to Obi-Wan, a wicked glint in your eye. “I thought they’d be more humble!”

“Anakin and humility have never been well acquainted.” Obi-Wan jested. He slashed at his last Wampa’s chest, cutting it down.

Anakin eyed the two of you. “Because I don’t need it!”

He turned.

“Agh!”

And in the momentary distraction, the younger Jedi received a claw to the cheek.

“Obi-Wan!” You sang with a grin. “The Chosen One needs your assistance.”

“Already on it!” He acknowledged. The older Jedi jogged toward the grumbling Anakin behind you.

Finally, another window of attack opened, enabling you to separate the torso from the legs of the last beast standing before you with a quick swipe of your blade.

As you caught your breath, you turned in time to see Anakin and Obi-Wan cut down the final Wampa with two sabers through the stomach, its culminating bellow signaling the end of the battle. The two relaxed, shutting off their lightsabers and attaching them to each belt.

You ambled toward the duo after clipping your own now-deactivated saber. You tried to dust off the accumulating snow on your arms, but most of it had iced over in the dropping temperatures of a Hoth night.

Trying to ignore the numbness of your nerves from the subfreezing temperatures, you looked up, locking your gaze with them as a feeling of levity embraced you.

“I’m The Chosen One!” You mocked in a high-pitched voice, throwing your hands up and scrunching your cheeks. “I could’ve taken the whole pack with my eyes closed!”

“Yes, I believe that’s quite an accurate impression.” Obi-Wan teased with an eyebrow quirked, turning to his former Padawan with a hand gesturing to his point.

Anakin crossed his arms. “You know.” He began nonchalantly. “I could definitely take on a pack with my eyes closed.”

You rested each hand on your hips, leaning into one side with a significant lack of inspiration on your face. As the adrenaline wore off, an unpleasant ache began to pull at your sinuses.

“Let’s go!” The three of you turned your head to Ahsoka who stood in the shuttle doorway, waving you over. “This storm is seconds away from keeping us grounded!”

“About time.” Anakin huffed as he led the way back to the ship, you and Obi-Wan close behind.

You were not a mere two steps into your stride when a weakened growl vocalized behind you. You all turned as the Wampa you kicked rolled onto its knees and began to crawl upwards in all its armless glory.

“Get in!” You advised, grabbing and reactivating your saber. “I’ll take care of it!”

Anakin leapt up to the entrance, landing in the doorway gracefully before turning to you. “Come on!” He argued nonchalantly. “What’s it gonna do?!”

“An armless Wampa can still do a lot of damage!” You challenged. “Trust me, I’ve learned the hard way!”

Whirling around to begin your trot back to the stumbling blob of fur, you called out once more.

“You three focus on getting us out of here!”

You listened as Obi-Wan jumped up to join Anakin on the shuttle, followed by distant conversation. Your saber was readied mere feet away from the creature when the older Jedi called out to you.

“Anakin says we need to lift off now!”

You groaned. “Then take off!”

Swiftly, you plunged your fiery blade into the heart of the beast, killing him instantly.

As the adamant Wampa fell for the final time, you felt the snow pick up around you, a sonorous whirring rumbling from behind. You pivoted just in time to see the shuttle at least five meters above the ground and climbing fast. You charged toward the vessel, its entryway still open with Obi-Wan standing to the side as he peeked out at you, holding the frame for support.

Your feet grew heavier as the water that had leaked into your boots began to freeze. It felt as if the biting cold had calcified your limbs. You couldn’t tell if your vision was blurring due to the thickening blizzard, your persisting headache, or your dropping body temperature.

“Come on!” You looked up at Obi-Wan who had knelt by the door, the shuttle now 15 meters above you.

You continued your labored dash.

“You must jump.” He reached out a hand as you stopped some meters away from the liftoff point.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply as you concentrated on the Force, hoping to melt away the stiffness in your movements and bring back some feeling in your extremities. You had certainly jumped long distances before when training with Qui-Gon, but this would be pushing it.

After shaking out each limb, you glanced up to see that the shuttle had climbed another 5 meters.

Great.

“Jump!” Obi-Wan yelled, reaching his hand out further.

“I know!” You yelled, slightly annoyed.

“I’ll catch you!” He assured.

You huffed, centering yourself in a wide stance. Then, bending your knees and reaching out to the energy around you, you jumped.

Freezing wind blasted your face to the point of losing all feeling. The air pushed back on your body, especially weighing you down by your fur cloak.

Still, the Force kept your trajectory. Some snow flew in your face, but the real culprit was the wind whipping your hair directly into both eyes.

You may have connected to the Power of the Cosmos a little too deeply, because you overshot. Instead of neatly landing in the entryway like Anakin, you collided with Obi-Wan, straddling him on impact as he flew back. He took the brunt of the fall, cushioning your landing with his strong, shielding form. A loud thud echoed throughout the cabin you both met the shuttle floor.

You shook your head, reorienting jumbled senses as your eyes connected with his. Obi-Wan’s flooded with relief, sighing at your somewhat safe landing. It looked almost as if his furrowed brows were scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

You assume he did not find any concerning indications as his expression quickly morphed into a desperate attempt to manage the pain from that rough drop.

“I caught you.” Obi-Wan exhaled, his warm breath tickling your nose.

You couldn’t help the breathy laugh that escaped you, followed by a pained groan when you rolled off him and onto the cold, shaking, shuttle floor.

You kneaded the side of your ribs. It throbbed from a rough meeting with the hilt of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. The bearded Jedi emanated a similar vocalization as he sat up, massaging between his shoulder and neck where you’re pretty sure your leading hand slammed into him.

Ahsoka shot up, stumbling over to the ship’s door before pulling it closed and sealing it tightly with a twist of the handle.

She spun toward you. “Nice jump!”

“Not so nice for me,” Obi-Wan interjected.

You sent him a sheepish look. “Sorry.”

“Welcome aboard!” Anakin saluted from the pilot's seat.

You noticed the shallow cut on his cheek had frozen over while Ahsoka returned to her backseat.

“Now, get ready.” He directed. “This is gonna be fun.”

“If I wasn’t seeing stars.” Obi-Wan began. “I would have something to say to that.”

The two of you rose from the floor, having trouble keeping your stance as the shuttle continued to tremble. Obi-Wan stumbled to the co-pilot's seat while you joined Ahsoka, unceremoniously landing in the chair neighboring hers.

The hum of the draft against the hull intensified as you watched the storm worsen, with thicker snowfall and the inklings of hail bouncing off the viewport.

“Hold on!” Anakin exclaimed.

You found it wise to follow that advice.

He pulled down the throttle, pinning the four of you against your seats as the ship shot up. The shuttle creaked and groaned while the outside pressure appreciated. You grew dizzy from the intensifying quakes.

“How old is this ship, again?” You inquired.

“Don’t ask,” Anakin warned.

The vessel broke through a layer of clouds. You wouldn’t have realized had the other side not lightened the darkness you were previously doused in.

The engines began to whine, slowly modulating upwards. The beat of your heart intensified. It would be a miracle if this ship didn’t stall.

“Almost there…” Anakin gnashed.

“My brain‘s gonna turn into jelly,” Ahsoka commented with a woozy tone.

Your grip on the armrests tightened. “Tell me about it.”

You stared at the viewport, watching as the ship tumbled through flying snow and dangerous ice, surrounded by the blacks and grays of the sky. Then, in a mere second, you broke through some thin gloomy barrier, and were met with thousands of bright stars on an endless black canvas.

The shuttle instantly calmed, sailing smoothly and deeper into space. The four of you settled into an eery serenity as you stared out the viewport in awe, having long forgotten what space looked like from inside a starship.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You glanced at Obi-Wan who’d twisted in his seat to face you, an endearing smile gently resting on his countenance. He seemed to have noticed your child-like wonderment. But who could blame you? It was an extraordinary sight, and not something you’d seen very often.

The last time you left Hoth, you were bound for Ilum for The Gathering. But that was many years ago, and you hardly remember it being this bewitching.

Then again, there was a big difference between collecting your Kyber crystal and facing the destiny you’ve prepared your whole life for. That anticipatory element could’ve added to your excitement.

This time, you weren’t going on a short trip. You were leaving for a while. For forever. Disappearing without a trace. Being called by forces unknown who freed you to face a destiny set in stone from the beginning.

And maybe Qui-Gon was out there, somewhere. In the Galaxy or the Force, watching with a smile, as you received his message from a million miles away in the form of three lost Jedi.

Either way, your journey had just begun, and basking in the light of the galaxy felt like a good place to start.

“Yes.” You sighed contently. “It is.”

[mcverse]

Hi can i ask a scenario wherein how would the sakamaki brothers react to a guy asking yui for a date and she says yes *bcs a sakamaki × yui were having an arguement*.

Oh look, there’s one of my vitals organs on the floor… I guess I laughed too much???

Yui! Reader dead.

The person she dared to even accept is dead.

It’s not meant to be funny but I can’t help it !!! You know what they are and what they can do. 🙃🙃

Okay but maybe I’m being to quick to assume, it could be plausible it’s anything but death… for some! Let’s see how this plays out cuz idon even know yet

Reminder: The boys (+ Mukami bros) are cute ngl and have moments of genuine affection and adoration toward reader (not really Yui! Reader — same difference tho) but they are very deadly, and that’s what I based this post off. Actually, it’s what I base all my dialovers posts off.

Pairing: Yui! Reader x a Sakamaki Brother

Type: Scenario

Word count: 3.2K

Warning: Death, Jealousy, Possessive, Insecurities, Yandere-ish??, Yui! Reader being self sabotage maybe, torture, not spell checked

Side bar: If you can’t tell, I love dark humor. You’ve been warned. Also this is definitely a x reader blog only, so I made the post to represent that. I didn’t want to not do the post cause the ask was really good! Some are longer than others, I got way ahead of myself. Subaru is kinda shorter cuz it’s hard to write him :/

Like always, characters are aged up appropriately!

Yui! Reader dating anyone but a Sakamki brother

Shu Sakamaki

You were a nuisance. A tiny, insignificant spec inside his world all because of that man couldn’t stop scheming. The existence of you has caused so much trouble—so many anomalies—he lost count after a while.

A human girl who couldn’t leave well enough alone. One that couldn’t obey, know right from wrong despite knowing all the facts and yet still being clueless. You made his life very difficult. He proved it to you time and time again.

Yet here he was, very out of character as he stood over your broken body. The feeling from earlier upon hearing the rumor of you leaving for someone else only now left his body. He felt like he wasn’t in control of his body during what he was doing to you.

He felt every emotion under the sun screaming at him loudly, blocking the noise of his music through his headphone. It was infuriating; he just wanted to relax. Do nothing and relax… Not break your fucking legs.

But what’s done is done.

He no longer felt this unwelcome discomfort in his chest when he saw you standing near another. It wasn’t him then. He was someone else, someone mad, someone crazy infatuated.

Shu has never been one to like someone.

So where did he fuck up?

Why did he fuck up?

He was always calm, calculated. The man he was today was driven by pure rage. Your screams in agony were music to his ears, better than any of the songs he enjoyed. Your pain, your scrunched up face and screaming, it was because of him. All because of his touch.

That thought alone satisfied him as he came down from his high, expression back to its blank slate, unreadable. He scuffs as your sound turns to whimpers and at your weak attempts to crawl away. It was almost cute… almost.

Bending down, he grips one of you legs causing a whale to leave you. Your hand instantly goes to his arm to stop him. He shakes it off him effortlessly, starring intensely at your face as he yanks you to him, you are now face to face.

With a tilt of his head, he smirks, “This is your mistake. For meddling in my life… take responsibility as I drain you of everything.” He grabs your hair, yanking back your head, “The only thought in your head should be giving yourself to me.” he finishes with the sinking of his teeth in your throat.

Reiji Sakamaki

Honestly, he thought he kneeded you into the perfect pet. At this point you should know better. His teachings should have gotten you into shape, but here you are once again being disobedient. Oh, how he detested that part of you. This hurts you more than him.. perhaps you like it?

Without missing a beat, when you arrive home he calls you to his office. This insolence has to be put to rest. You have soiled his family name, much less his pride though he would never tell.

This rumor, even though it was just that, was disgraceful. And it spread, reaching his ears. As if you would be with the trash that litter these halls. Who did they think they were compared to him. They were nothing, that’s what. You knew this. So why would you think it was okay?

Yes, it brings him great satisfaction when he saw you close in on yourself under his gaze, body trembling in fear. At least your body knows his touch, your mind still seemed to show some resistance. No worries, Reiji considers himself a excellent teacher. He was never one to give up, no matter the challenge.

“I don’t wanna hear your excuses…” he starts, getting up from his seat. On his way over to you, he grabs a cup filled with liquid and stands in front of you, pushing it towards you, “Drink this.”

Scared, you shake your head already knowing it’s something bad. You remember the last time he gave you something, the nightmares are everlasting.

Reiji inhales deeply, frowning down at you, “Drink it or I’ll shove it down your throat. I’ll be anything but gentle.” Again he pushes it to you, this time settling it in your hands after his threat weighed heavy in the air.

Cautiously you take a sip, tasting a honey dew hibiscus blend before swallowing the rest. You hand him the empty cup after, noticing no effect. It confused you, was that simply tea?

You’re question was answered shortly after when your eyes felt heavy and your body light as air. You stumbled into Reiji’s arms loosely, looking at him through blurry vision. The last thing you see is him smiling.

…

When you came to, you found you were strapped to a chair, in what looked to be the dungeon. How could you forget? You had the worst happen to you here, a shiver travels down your spine when you think about it.

“You’re up.” Reiji, a voice you’ll never forget, spoke behind you. You tried to turn to see him, but it was difficult. He chuckles are you attempt, walking around you to face you. Your eyes immediately notice a cloth bag in his gloved hands, the bottom cut open.

“What’s that for?” You squeeze out, heartbeat picking up.

“A lesson.” was all he said when he forces it over your head till it hang around your neck. He pulls away to walk around you again, making noise behind you. Then you heard a squeak. Your breath stills.

Please tell me that’s not a—

Reiji comes back into view, holding a rat in front of your face. It was mid size, black and ugly. You were going to cry, already feel the tears pool at your eyes.

“Reiji, please!” You shake your head, thrashing around in the chair.

He clicks his tongue, “Bad girls get punished.” He holds the bag in one hand and the rat in the holder. Inch by inch the rat gets closer to your face, thrashing in Reiji hand not liking the harsh treatment just like you.

A scream rips from your throat when he drops it on your head and quickly ties the bag.

You had to learn your place one way or another.

Ayato Sakamaki

Ayato had to have heard wrong because there was no fucking way that you chose someone other then him. Especially knowing that you were his and his alone. This rumor had to be just that, false information spreading around the school.

He knew he didn’t have anything to worry about, it was him for crying out loud. No one can compete… but he still needed to hear how wrong everyone was from the source.

He found you easily in the girls bathroom, locking the door to avoid any interruptions. It was a miracle he was thinking clearly, usually it was so unlike him. And that’s why it was scary.

His stare was intense and focused, it made you squirm under the heat of it. He taunts you with slow forward steps, making you take steps back until your back was flush against one of the walls. He caged you in between his arms immediately, decreasing your chances to escape. As if you had any to begin with..

“Ore-sama’s been hearing some things he shouldn’t, Chichinashi.” He begin, his left hand sliding down to grip one of your shoulder, “It’s not true right? You wouldn’t dare go against Ore-sama?”

“A-Ayato.” Your mouth felt dry all of a sudden. You knew what he was talking about. After having a disagreement once again between you both, you foolishly accepted a date with another. You thought it would come to nothing, little did you know that the person would spread the news like a wild fire.

His grip tightens, nails digging through your uniform into your skin, drawing blood from you. The smell was intoxicating as always to Ayato, but he was to busy seething inside to notice completely.

“It was a mistake! I didn’t mean it, I was upset. Forgive me.” You plea body trembling in both pain and fear.

A scowl stretches onto his face, his hand long left your shoulder the minute those words left your lips. Instead, they wrap around your throat, tightening as he processes your words. It came to the point, you were clawing at his hand, letting out choked gasps.

Ayato couldn’t think straight. All he can think about is you being with someone that’s not him. How dare you? Ayato should be your whole world, your first thought when you wake up and your last thought when you sleep. You should feel suffocated by his presence, otherwise he wasn’t doing his job.

Slowly he loosens his hold on you, leaving you chugging down air desperately. A few minutes pass before you glance at him, body going still when you see the huge sinister grin on his face.

“Ore-sama’s just gonna have to remind you who you belong to,” he suddenly grabs your hair and throws you on top of the faucets counter, “No matter how long it takes, everyone will know you belong to Ore-sama.” He finishes before sinking his sharp teeth into your neck with purpose.

Kanato Sakamaki

If it was any normal person, they would be heart broken and move on. But Kanato was anything but normal.

First he lets you get away with talking back to him in your argument yesterday, chosen to forgive you after you reluctantly make him snacks and now.. you had the audacity to cheat on him.

You filthy, untrustworthy mortal.

He was aware all woman were the same. Hell, he constantly reminded him despite the kind attention you gave him. He always assumed your kindness had ulterior motives. Why else would someone be kind to him? He knew he was a handful. He just didn’t care.

Now it was clear how you felt about him, there was no hiding it. There was no hiding from him. This time, you actions are unforgivable. You thought you can toy with his feelings… You’ll pay in the worst way.

When he invited you to his room, you didn’t think much of it. Somehow you were completely oblivious to the news spread throughout the school. In fact, the situation with the date was so far in the back of your head, you have forgotten it had happened. You were just upset in the moment. It was never more than just a sway of words.

That’s why after entering his room to see the person who asked lying lifeless in a pool of blood a few feet away from Kanato, were you shocked. Just a few hours ago, he was alive. Guilt quickly creeped up on you but it was shortly lived when Kanato called for your attention.

“So glad you’re here. Good to know you’re still a little obedient,” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He points to the dead on his floor, “Remember them?” he laughs, “Of course they do! Right teddy?” he turns to the bear in his hand.

You remain still, time ticking like a bomb about to go off. Which in all honestly it could, Kanato was unpredictable and if he found out about that and this was the outcome, imagine what he would do to you.

How do you get out of this situation?

“Look at her, teddy. She’s planning something… whatever it is won’t work. No. I don’t like it.” he shakes his head, “I’d much rather your expression be twisted in pain than whatever this is…” he walks towards you, face twisting from one emotion to another before settling into a deep frown. He stops a feet away from you, your back against the door before she even realizes it.

“I do enjoy your terrified expression too, it’s adorable.” he mumbles. It felt like time froze with how long you both been staring at each other. Kanato hold on his bear tights as he stares numbly at you. It was too much, you had to say something.

“Kanato—“ your voice trails off because in a split second, a knife was lunged into your abdomen. It hurt so much, it pulsed with heat. Your mind couldn’t wrap around what was happening. Gripping the arm it was attached to, you looked the culprit in his crazed eyes, “Kan-ato..”

He sneered twisting it harshly, “Did you think you can get away with using me?! I told you I’d break you. Down to your last breath.” he yanks it out, watching your body drop to the floor, struggling to inhale.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty enough to be added to my collection,” he bends down to stab you again in your shoulder. He smiles when you haller out in pain, “To stay with me forever… you should be grateful.” he stabs your leg.

“That’s right.. look at me like that.” he repeatedly stabs you over and over until the life drifts from your eyes to nothing, “You’ll never leave me. Will you?”

Laito Sakamaki

What was this? Is his hearing finally going, has he finally reached that age? No, that can’t be it. So whst exactly was happening?

His little bitch going on a date with some that’s not him? How outrageous. Not possible. He’s the only one who can take you out on sexy rendezvous and risky trips. You liked it better when it was him. He knew that.

So why is it that hearing the rumor stirs something unsettling in him. It tugs at his undead heart and gnaws at his brilliant brain. Before he could do anything, it seeped through the cracks, drowning him.

Every memory with his mother, with every woman he encountered, every person who he thought he loved—who he thought showed him love and every betrayal he assumed or saw came full surface.

It hurt so much. He swore to never feel like this again. And it ate at his mind. If he had a breath to give, it would be ripped right out of him. He didn’t like this. He wasn’t the one in control, he wasn’t the one getting your love. He wasn’t the one playing the game. He felt like the game played… him.

When Laito found you, he all but dragged you to the roof top. A place where terrifying, haunting memories were held. The same ones that kept you on your toes, but failed you every time.

Laito was uncharacteristically quiet, his back turned to you as he stared out into the open planes. It could have been a pleasant sight if you didn’t know what kind of monster he really was.

“Y’know, little bitch.” he starts, taking his hat off to run his free hand through his hair, “There was only one other time I truly loved someone to the point of hate. All the others… they weren’t real.”

Hearing where this conversation was heading, you reach back to grip the handle when a gasp leaves you. No longer were you standing in front of the door, instead Laito has you dangling off the rails of the school on your toes. His right hand was twisted into your uniform shirt, the only thing keeping you from falling.

Quickly, you grab his arm, tears swelling in your eyes as you see the sad expression on his face. It squeezed at you heart, but maybe that was actually the fear of falling.

“Lait-o please!” You lean forward into his touch.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head at your attempt to sway him. He knew this scene all too well. The first was hard on him, he drowned himself in body after body. No doubt this would be the same. It didn’t bring him the same joy as his usual actions did. This time he truly felt torn.

“Little bitch,” he draws in your attention and you lock eyes, “It doesn’t bring me joy from this. I would have rather spent the rest of our lives together… exploring each other but I can’t tolerate the betrayal.”

It only dawned on you what he was talking about. From the start of this interaction you thought he was being moody but you should have known; play your cards just a little better but it was too late. With a easy unraveling, he lets you go with a gentle push and watches as you descends to the floor.

So many emotions raved through him as he did. He wanted to grab you back and tell you it was a joke. But he stays in place when he hears a loud splat and a pierced scream.

He couldn’t even bring himself to peek before he left. You brought up to many bad memories, how could he forgive you?

Subaru Sakamaki

Subaru really couldn’t stand you. From the moment you entered their home and disrupted his peace. It was always something with you. Always needing saving from someone or something, always needing to be reminded that you were beneath him and everyone in this house.

Yet you seem to not understand it or that you do but you completely throw it to the wind, whatever the reason it pissed him off. All your stupid attempts to get close to him, to try and understand him… to get him to open up.

Then, despite his constant attacks on you, he actually grew some form of attachment. The thought of you sicken him, but the thought of you gone made him mad more. You disgusting, weak human did something to him.

So when he heard the rumor of you agreeing to date someone else. It was like… something broke in him. All his thoughts consumed him, he was a monster. Less than trash. His mother didn’t want him nor his father. Why would you?

He didn’t even like himself sometimes. It’s no surprise the time you have another argument, you agree to date someone else. If he was in your position, he’d run to. Run so far, the chances of anyone catching him was slim to none. But you weren’t that good at running… actually, you couldn’t really run after he caught you.

There was a permanent snarl on his face as he stares down at you. A chained collar secured tightly around your neck, identical to the ones around your wrist. If Subaru wasn’t so aggravated, he could have enjoyed seeing you ruined.

He grips the knife in his left hand, which drips of your blood, “Shut up!” he shouts, listening to your whimpers, “You brought this on yourself. Stupid.. You just don’t learn.”

He moves to crouch in front of you, lifting your head up by the chin, “I told you you’ll die if you stay here.” His left hand raises as he speaks and makes another slash across your skin.

You groan loudly with shut eyes, shaking as he does it again… and again, and again till more and the same wounds bleed profoundly. It was agonizing, with how many hours he’s been at it. It felt like he was never going to lighten up his assaults.

But a miracle shines on you when he pulls away and drops the knife. He stands over you for minutes, chest heaving up and down. You never understood why they pretended to breathe, but you weren’t in the position to question.

There you laid out like a doll. So broken, bruised and bloody. Almost beyond repair. Subaru smiles at that acknowledgment. As much as he was tempted to tear your throat out, the smell of your blood begging him to drain you dry till you were foaming at the mouth; this would have to do.

”I told you… you’ll die.” was the last thing he said before leaving the dungeon, locking it on the way out.

Fuck he hated you.

DL Masterlist

[avatar-saiki]

Ride the Cow Boy

Belphegor/reader, 6k words

Rating: NSFW

Summary:

Reader is not MC, but rather an ambitious sorcerer with dreams of furthering humanity's skills in sorcery and witchcraft.

By negotiating a contract to have a baby with the devil.

A curve here.

Strikethrough there.

Two lines that must be parallel with those within the rune exactly 153 degrees away within the circle.

You sat back on your heels, subconsciously wiping sweat from your brow while checking your work.

Moonlight streamed in through the warehouse window up above, illuminating the dusty outlines and giving what was simple chalk an air of…

The chill that ran down your spine stopped the thought before it could finish.

“Okay.” 

You slipped the chalk into your pocket, taking comfort in the sight of the mist of your breath. No matter how unnatural this moment might become, this was still your reality.

One had to remember that, especially when attempting to summon a higher tier demon.

The Demon Lord might be asleep, but over the most recent generations of humanity, demonic activity had begun to change.

“So then I just need…”

It was still bizarre to imagine let alone witness the exchange of students across Three Realms of existence. 

You lit a match and set the incense down between yourself and the sigil of the chosen demon’s house.

After one last flick through your notes, you breathed out one last hesitation and began the spell.

So bizarre, in fact.

Light began to crackle across the chalk and your voice faltered for half a syllable. 

Keep the cadence.

You’d already triple-checked your work.

You closed your eyes and focused on finishing the last verse, uttering the last word with the utmost reverence and respect for its original caster.

So far humanity had come…

Even the great Solomon had conquered death.

So…

If theory held… 

“Ugh.…”

You lifted your head to find a young man laying on the floor within the circle.

“Where am I?” 

His long tail swept across the floor as he moved to sit up and roll his neck.

Holy shit it worked.

You dropped to your knees and leafed through your notes again to make sure. Higher tiered demons could take on many forms, often humanoid or-

“Hey.”

His flat tone drew your attention, and you found him tapping on the barrier, each tap reverberating throughout its membrane like a bubble that might burst.

“Hey yourself,” you said, standing up and dusting yourself off. “Quit doing that. It won’t pop.”

He smirked and looked up, clearly able to see more of it than you could from the way his expressions shifted with it. 

“It might.”

Doubt was one way to weaken a sorcerer’s spells.

“Nice try,” you said and crossed your arms, looking him square in the eyes. “I know the spell’s sound. Even if we make no agreement, you’re not getting out.”

“Ahhh…” He sighed heavily and sat on the floor, showing you precisely why you’d chosen the Avatar of Sloth.

“You sound like you know what you’re doing.”

“If I didn’t, would I have tried summoning you?”

He crossed his legs and leaned forward, looking up at you with a patronizing tone.

“Do you think everyone thinks that way?”

“I… well they should!”

He shrugged and swept his tail around again, the barrier crackling as he tested its lower edge.

“If I assume that, I miss the opportunities where they don’t~”

Fair enough.

You sat down across from him, willing to entertain him.

“And Diavolo’s treaty?”

He shrugged. “If you’re aware of it, then you’re also aware I’m only expected to follow it however much you believe I will.”

Another fair point.

“Well, who’s to say I don’t believe you’ll obey your master to the letter?”

His expression soured considerably. “That might be true, but Diavolo is not my master.”

“Isn’t he the one leading while the Demon King sleeps?”

He snorted and held his chin in his hand, waving you off. “If that’s your reasoning, you’re nowhere near the experience needed to be summoning me.”

Indignation heated in your face and you leaned forward.

“I’ll have you know I’m—“

The sudden raise in his brow was enough to shut you right up.

Don’t divulge more than you have to.

“Anyway, you’re Belphegor, right? Avatar of Sloth?”

He nodded with a sigh, closing his eyes again.

“Okay, you and I both know you’d rather be anywhere but here, right?” Another nod. “Good, then I’ll make this quick. I summoned you because I’m interested in furthering humanity’s magical abilities in sorcery.”

“Ugh, that sounds like so much work…” he groaned and let himself fall back. “Just send me back, there’s nothing I want.”

The heat within your cheeks returned, but for a new reason entirely.

“It’s nothing that should take more than a week.”

“Ah~ at least now I know it’s stupidity, not ambition.”

You bit your tongue, ignoring the bait.

“It should be easy, especially for someone like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You bowed your head to hide the smile, delighted he’d taken yours.

“You don’t even have to do that much really, and if you say no I’ll just summon someone else and ask them.”

He sat up on his elbow, staring hard at you for a moment. Then he sighed and tilted his head.

“Fine, I’ll hear it.”

You straightened up, locking your gaze with his violet eyes.

Just like you’d rehearsed, short and simple.

“I want to try to further humanity, by having a baby with a devil.”

His eyes flashed, betraying the interest that lay unspoken in his voice.

“Oh… that sounds almost… blasphemous~”

Hold your ground.

“Not at all. It’s happened before, hasn’t it?”

He tilted his head to the side, intrigued. 

“Is that what you think?”

You nodded. “Absolutely. It only makes sense. How else could we have any use of magic at all?”

“Well maybe your species just worked super duper hard~” he drawled sarcastically, “You know, hard work pays off and all that nonsense.”

“Even if that may be true, the probability alone suggests—“

“Look,” he interrupted, leering at you with a smirk. “I don’t really care what reasons you have, it won’t sway me in the slightest.”

You drew yourself up, standing firm. Fine. May as well just cut to the chase then.

“That’s what I want. One week of your time to further this goal. What would I have to give you in return?”

He sighed and shook his head, “I already told you, I don’t want anything.”

“Really?” You drew yourself up on your knees, “I’m pretty confident I could get you just about anything as trade.”

He closed his eyes, saying nothing.

Doing nothing.

Honestly, you thought he might’ve fallen asleep if his tail didn’t occasionally thump on the floor.

“As long as it’s within the treaty.”

He tsked and thumped his tail again. 

Frustrated, maybe?

You sat back on your heels, feeling a little uncertain.

“If it’s really not something you’ll consider, I can ask—“

“Why’d you summon me?” he asked, opening his eyes to watch you carefully. “If you want powerful offspring, wouldn’t Lucifer make more sense?”

The Avatar of Pride? No way.

“I mean… I thought about it…” you admitted, slouching a little. He definitely wouldn’t be as easy to appeal to. 

“He’d refuse,” he said, something… off about how flat his voice fell on your ears.

“… and I take it you are too?”

It was a small disappointment, but not a total loss. The Avatar of Sloth might’ve been the most approachable, but you still had many others you could ask.

You turned to extinguish the incense and recover your notebook to refresh your memory of the dismissal spell. 

“Well, thanks for hearing me out,” you said, finding the proper page and reading the verses. “I’ll send you back in just a minute.”

He said nothing, just stared at the smoke slowly rising and disappearing in the dusty moonlight overhead.

It was a strange request, you knew that. Far unlikely you’d find any to agree to it, and even then the risk was still high. Belphegor’s words had reminded you just how chaotic each and every demon had the potential to be.

A treaty was only worth what one believed.

Even so, the treaty worked two ways.

You inhaled a breath, ready to begin the dismissal when he spoke again.

“You’ll give me anything?”

You faltered, holding the book tight.

“Anything in my power to give, yes.”

He smiled subtly. 

“Good answer… mm…”

He went quiet again, letting the silence stretch long enough for you to wonder if he’d even considered it at all.

Again, you looked down at the page and mouthed out the first few syllables when he spoke.

“I want a month.”

Startled, you looked at him again.

“You what?”

He lifted his head, humor dry.

“I gave you my price, don’t be rude and ignore it.”

You bit your tongue and lowered the book.

“A month of what? My life?”

He rolled his eyes and stood up slowly.

“No, that’s way too short. I want a month. Here. To stay.”

“Here? In the human realm?” 

He nodded again and clasped his hands together, pointing at you with his first two fingers. 

“I want to be able to do whatever I want and move freely too.”

A demon, not just any demon but an Avatar roaming freely under your name?

You shook your head, “That’s way too much!”

He sighed and shrugged, “Well, then you’ll have to find someone else willing to hear your request. I won’t make this offer again.”

You cursed inwardly. There was a chance you might find another demon who was willing to barter… but a chance you wouldn’t either. The further down the line you traveled could affect just how powerful your child could become too…

If it wasn’t with him, the odds you’d be able to negotiate with any over Avatar were even more abysmal.

“You can’t hurt me or anyone else,” you said, “and no other contracts while you fulfill mine.”

He nodded, sounding bored. “Yes, yes. I’ll abide by the treaty as far as you understand it.”

“It has to be at least once per day for the week.”

He tilted his head in thought. “If you give me two months, I’ll do it for two of your cycles.”

You felt your face heat despite the want to remain firm.

“A month and a half.”

He smirked. “I’ll need money.”

“I’ll give you what I can afford each day you go out.”

“I’ll need food.”

“You’ll be fed.”

His eyes glimmered.

“Somewhere to sleep.”

“I’ll take care of that too.”

“Mm…”

He slipped his hands in his pockets and looked up at the moon, his silhouette playing an unnerving sense of innocence upon the mind despite the power that was restricted within the summoning circle.

He gazed down at you again, eyes alight and unreadable.

“I accept your terms then, human.”

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

“Is this really where you live?” The demon asked, wandering into the small kitchenette and riffling through the random assortment of papers on the counter.

“Yes, I- Hey, don’t touch that!”

He held up his hands and stepped back. “I was only curious.”

You gave him a withering look and shut the door, locking it out of habit.

“Oo~ smart move. Lock the door to keep all the bad things outside.” He hugged himself, adopting a falsetto tone. “I feel so safe now.”

“Ugh.” 

You ignored him and set about putting your things away while your thoughts muddled about. This… you’d thought about this so thoroughly, but now you felt like you might be underprepared. Was it the part where he altered his appearance to pass off as a human in his early twenties or the fact he fell asleep on the bus ride and you basically had to drag him out at your stop?

The mere fact you had such a powerful demon in your apartment perusing through your junk mail and bills was…

Well.

It’s not like you had any right to feel weird about this, considering what you’d summoned him for.

You sighed and passed the bathroom with a quick glance in the mirror, not that it mattered how you looked. This wasn’t one of those kind of hookups.

“Okay, you- hey!”

“You should really pay your phone bill,” he said, leaning over the counter without shame, said bill in his hand. “All this red text makes it seem like they’re mad about it.”

You let out a frustrated sigh and strode over to snatch it from him. “I said don’t touch.”

He smirked and shrugged, “I wouldn’t be too embarrassed about it. My brother gets those all the time. You could try burning it? That’s what he does.”

“Yeah well, if that actually did anything I might,” you said, shoving it and many others like it in a drawer and slamming it shut. “You’re not allowed to open that.”

“Aw~ but how else am I supposed to know how behind you are paying the water and internet? Not to mention your grandpa Teri seems pretty concerned about you. Will you—“

“I was only gone for like two minutes, how much did you read?!”

He blinked and then shrugged. “Enough.”

For someone who didn’t want to know your reasons, he was nosy as fuck.

You sighed, feeling so, so tired. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. A child with a lower ranked demon could still be powerful, right? Still more so than a human child born of two magically gifted parents. 

Belphegor.

It was… strange watching him. He seemed to be taking in every part of your living space, the dishes in the sink, the small living room with a single couch and rug that didn’t match the carpet at all, and all the miscellaneous things you had no idea where to put away left on every inch of available counter space.

Maybe you should’ve cleaned up a bit more.

Ah fuck it. It’s not like he cares and even if he did, you didn’t need his approval.

“So—“

“Before you start,” he interrupted, holding up a hand, “I have something important I need cleared up first.”

“Uh…” That threw you off a bit. “Okay, sure? What’s up?”

He nodded to the short hallway leading to your room, “This is a one bedroom, right?”

“Yeah.”

He leaned back with his elbows on the counter. “Okay, so where do I sleep?”

“The…” You blinked, mind blanking. “What?”

His eyes dulled and he sighed. 

“I said: where do I sleep?”

“Yeah, I heard you,” you said, recollecting yourself and gesturing for him to follow. “The couch pulls out into a bed. You can sleep here.”

“What?” He groaned and leaned on the back. “Seriously? Don’t you have anywhere else?”

Per the treaty, a demon can only accept what is given of the contractor.

“Nope,” you said, feeling smug. “You asked for somewhere to sleep and this is what I have to offer.”

He bowed his head, relenting easily with a resigned sigh. “Fine…”

And this was why you chose a demon of Sloth. Still deceptive and deadly, but motivations were lower than a demon of Pride or Greed. Envy was too risky, and Gluttony too… well you didn’t really have to imagine how easily things could end poorly for you there.

“I’ll go get you a pillow and some blankets,” you said, moving to walk around him.

“Wait.” 

He reached out and grabbed your arm, making your heart stop. Nothing but a simple hold to him, but your body instinctively knew there was no way to break from his grasp.

He stepped closer, eyes gazing into yours. “About our contract…”

“Sorry, you gotta sleep here. My bed is not available.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he murmured, leaning in to lower his voice. “But you said once per day during your cycle, right?”

“Y-Yeah…?” Your heart stuttered in your chest and you leaned back. “What of it?”

“Well…” He glanced at the clock on the wall, “There’s only about two hours left of today, and…”

It stopped when he looked at you again, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Your cycle’s active now, isn’t it?”

You glanced away. “I had no idea you could sense something like that.”

He laughed, letting you go. “You should assume we can sense everything, it’s better for you that way.”

Your face heated and you turned your back to him. “Noted.”

“So how did you want me to do it? Do you have some kind of system or something planned? You do know fertility is low cross dimensionally, right?”

“Yes, I know!” You turned back to face him and nearly jumped seeing him so close.

His expression turned smug and he tilted his head. “I do think all the science you humans have accomplished so far is impressive~ Fertilizing offspring outside the body and defying the nature that would keep one barren? No other creature in this realm can do that.”

Somehow the embarrassment wasn’t easing, but you remained calm.

“Yeah, and?”

“Nothing to add,” he said, stepping back with a shrug. “You’re welcome to try that too, but I don’t think it’ll have the same effect.”

Yeah, and you didn’t have the equipment or finances to even try that option. Even if there had been someone in the sorcerer’s guild that could help you, doing so would only guarantee others following your lead to do the same.

And… selfishly…

You clenched your fists.

“So what do you suggest then?”

His eyes lidded, looking down at you with a sense of superiority.

“Don’t act like you didn’t think this far ahead now. Surely you knew what you were asking for when you summoned me.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, staring up at him. If he wanted shame, he wasn’t getting it.

“Follow me,” you said, turning to walk down the hall.

“Ooo~ sounds like someone’s bed just opened up.”

“Just for the contract. You’re still sleeping on the couch.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say~”

Ugh.

You rubbed your temples, wondering if the next month and a half with your new roommate would be enough penance for what you were about to do. As Belphegor had somewhat confirmed, this wouldn’t be the first time two dimensional beings bore a child, but it was still a temptation of Fate’s balance.

And if you were successful…

“Oh, now see this is more my style,” he said, walking straight into your room without an invitation and turning to fall back into your bed. “Mm~ needs more pillows though.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you muttered, shutting the door on reflex.

“Mm…” He hummed, all but sinking in further intentionally, “that’s not something I can do.”

You rolled your eyes and walked across the room to draw the curtains, blocking out the streetlight and darkening the room even further. After your eyes adjusted, you glanced at the demon that looked like nothing more than a young man laying in your bed, a contented smile on his face.

Seeming him like that… almost made you feel…

“… are you sure you’re okay with this?”

He shrugged, not bothering to open his eyes. “I wouldn’t have left the circle if I wasn’t.”

That was true enough.

You sighed and walked over to the side of the bed, unsure where to look. “So how do you want to do it then?”

“You’re the one that wants it,” he said, stretching his arms up overhead. “You figure it out.”

“Wh- you’re not going to help me at all?”

“No?” He peered at you with one eye open. “Why would I?”

You held your tongue, but he still smirked and closed his eyes again, shimming himself more comfortably into your bed. 

“You should hurry up though, the day’s almost over.”

“If you’re aspiring to be my worst encounter, you’ll have to try a lot harder,” you said, taking the hint and beginning to undress.

“Ah~ but I don’t want to try at all.”

You’d figured he was making some joke being the embodiment of Sloth, but no, he was serious. While you stripped down, he basically fell asleep.

Not the worst encounter so far, but definitely one of the most… interesting? Was interesting the right word to use here?

“Belphegor,” you whispered, shaking him awake. “Hey, wake up. You can’t sleep here, remember?”

“M’awake…” he slurred, “just tired…”

“You can go to bed after we’re done, but not yet.”

“Mmgh…”

He stretched and opened his eyes slowly, looking you over with a smirk.

“Too shy to take off your shirt?”

“No, just no reason to take it off.”

He laughed, “Fair enough, I get that.”

It was somewhat comforting he could laugh so easily. Maybe you really were the only one feeling awkward in your head.

Hell, this might not even be his first time doing something like this.

“So are you gonna…?”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” He reached down and lifted his hips, only to withdraw a device from his pocket and lay down again. “I should text Beel and tell him it’ll be a while till I’m home.”

“Yeah, and maybe… you know.” You gestured at him with a raised brow.

He met your gaze briefly, then went back to tapping on the screen. “I’m here and willing, that’s about all I can do for you.”

“Oh come on!”

He rolled his eyes and gestured to himself. “You have opportunity once per day, whether you take it or not is up to you.”

A glare could only do so much when the target couldn’t be bothered to look up again.

You sighed and kneeled between his legs, rubbing up and down his thighs while you let the thoughts fade. Not the best, but still not the worst. Mostly just bizarre. 

Your palm ghosted over him, testing for any reaction and receiving none.

Again.

This time you felt along the shape of him, rubbing your palm down in gentle strokes once you’d found it.

He sighed quietly, stretched his arms up to rest above his head, and closed his eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep,” you said, feeling him begin to harden.

“I won’t…” 

You bit your lip, watching his face become so peaceful, his lips parted in soft breath.

He was almost-

No.

Now wasn’t the time to fall for a demon’s charms.

You unbuttoned his pants, checking again for any signs of discomfort before unzipping and pulling them down. A bit challenging with the deadweight he gave, but he did seem intent to stay true to his word and not try at all.

You stopped, lingering at the hem of his underwear and staring at the bulge forming. He looked human now, but… would his…?

“Getting shy now?”

You looked up, expecting to see those violet eyes upon you full of nothing but glee in your hesitation but no, they were still closed. The steady flow of his breathing made it seem as if he might still be asleep.

“No. Why? Are you?”

His nose wrinkled briefly.

“You’re just a human.”

You smirked, feeling emboldened. 

“You could still feel shy.”

“And you could continue wasting time all you like. Take too long and this’ll count as your one time for tomorrow.”

“Don’t get so grumpy.” You chided, tugging his underwear down and lifting out his cock. Huh. Looked like just about any other penis you’d seen.

Should’ve figured as much.

You didn’t have a lot of time, so you squirted on a healthy dose of lube and began to stroke him, again watching his expression. No response was… good, right? It wasn’t like it mattered, but you still didn’t want to hurt him…

Or yourself for that matter.

You reached down to touch yourself, rubbing slow circles and slathering lube all over your entrance. It’d been a while since you’d had sex and by the looks of him it’d be a tight fit.

“Okay, I’m going to start now.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, yawning a little. “Go ahead.”

Well that was a vote of confidence you’d never seen.

You sighed, mentally cursing yourself for your ambition for the third or fifth time this evening as you straddled over him and lined him up.

This was no different than theories of animals in nature seeking a strong mate for healthy offspring.

You braced your hand on his chest and bowed your head, lowering yourself down slowly and steeling your breath.

Healthy wasn’t enough, humanity needed power to change.

“Hh-“

You grit your teeth, stopping and letting yourself adjust to the pain of the stretch. It really had been a while…

“You’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Shut up.” You hissed through your teeth and he snickered.

“You’ll fuck me but I can’t talk? That’s hardly fair~”

You closed your eyes and willed yourself to push through it and sink down, nearly taking him in fully. It hurt, oh it hurt, but the grunt you heard almost made it worth it.

Seems no matter how smug this demon tried to be, you could still crack through the facade.

His cock throbbed, stealing the brief sense of pride as even the smallest twitch brought all your attention to muscles that had not yet fully stretched. A breath left through your teeth, shakier than before.

He chuckled, but said nothing.

Just ignore him. 

… as much as you can.

You reached down and spread your fingers around him, massaging your outer lips to soothe the ache until each throb soon became a steady, bearable pulse.

Better.

You breathed out slowly, lifting your hips up and taking your time to feel the pull before sinking down once more.

This was better.

Touching yourself brought comfort, and you closed your eyes to find your rhythm and lose yourself in it.

No thoughts.

No stress.

Just…

You breathed out a quiet sigh, moving your hands to rest on the bed and deepening the rolls of your hips, riding the push and pull along his length. Using it to loosen yourself up.

It’d been so long…

You leaned forward to rest on your elbows, moaning under your breath when his cock rubbed just right inside.

This was the good kind of hurt. The stretch that felt so full and tight around what it held. It was almost enough to…

You moaned and rolled your hips into him, letting yourself sink further until it was just beginning to feel too much and rolling back again. Once more. And again.

Fuck.

You bowed your head over his chest, heat rising in your core and surrounding his cock in selfish, wet desire.

“Mmhuh…”

You laid your head down on him and reached down to tease just beside your clit, moaning with your cheek on his chest as you fucked yourself with him.

Fuck, it felt s-

Your breathing hitched and you sank down lower, rutting against him with a whine and cumming far sooner than you’d meant to.

But it had been… so long… since you’d had a good encounter.

The fact he’d stayed hard this whole time was a miracle in its own right.

You laid there, content to let yourself feel somewhat dazed and happy, nearly forgetting just who was laying beneath you.

Until he spoke.

“Was that it?”

You tensed, heat rushing to your face as you reluctantly lifted your head. 

“Excuse me?”

His eyes were open now, watching you with an eerie glow.

“I’m just asking if that was it. Is that all you can do?”

The little-

Is that all you can do.

Tch.

You sat up and placed your hands on his stomach.

“You know this would be easier if you did something,” you said, starting to rock your hips again.

He laughed lightly and shook his head.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

You scowled at his stupid sleepy face, his eyes already drifting closed again.

“You’re really going to do the absolute bare minimum aren’t you?”

He nodded shamelessly, only adding fuel to your fire.

Maybe arguing with Pride would’ve been a better idea after all.

Whatever.

You set your gaze on his chest, ignoring him and harnessing the frustration he was trying to build to use it against him.

This stupid smug ass demon was going to cum.

Now that you’d become more adjusted, the awareness of your body made it easier to ride him and feel how his cock moved within you with every roll. 

Deep. 

Long.  

Slow.

You heard his breath hitch and bit back a grin, sitting up to change the angle and rise up higher until just the head remained inside.

Then you sank down nice and slow~

His brow twitched and you couldn’t hide the grin that time.

Again you lifted yourself up, waited, then sank down once more.

The condescending little prick could act nonchalant all he wanted, but you saw those lips part to let out a heady breath.

You reached down to touch your clit, unable to look away from his faux sleeping expression as you rose up only to slide down again, feeling every. Little. Twitch.

Words bubbled up in your throat, wanting to be spoken but dissolving into hushed mewls as your cunt began to feel warm around him once more.

You dropped your hands back onto the bed, moving in a faster rut as you’d done so many times before. Always so effective. It was so easy to make them cum with—

“Are your hips getting tired?”

“I- wha?” You blinked, losing your rhythm with the sudden question.

His eyes were alight again, that smirk slowly imprinting itself to your memory.

“You’re moving a lot… do you feel tired yet?”

Why did it seem like he was mocking you again?

“Well usually it’s not just me moving.”

He laughed, “Right, right. I figured that.”

You squinted at him. “You’re not holding it in on purpose or something, are you?”

He shook his head with a tired sigh. 

“No…I just wanna go to sleep and you’re taking a really, really long time.”

“Well like I said, it’d go a lot quicker if you’d help me.”

He sighed and looked across the room. “If I do, you’ll expect me to help again next time and I don’t want to do that.”

“Then you have no right to complain!”

He glanced back at you again, his expression a mixture of innocence and mystery.

“You really want my help?”

“Yes,” you said without thinking, already exasperated at this point.

He chuckled and shimmed himself even further into your bed.

“Okay. Give me your bed and I’ll help.”

“No,” you said flatly. If you let a demon take an inch, they’d take your soul. “You get the couch.”

“I don’t wanna sleep on the couch… the bed’s so comfy…” he said with a small pout, his eyes drifting shut.

“Oh no, don’t you dare fall asleep!”

“But you’re taking so long…”

You scowled, fighting every urge inside to not just grab this little fucker and-

Stay calm.

You breathed out slowly and considered your options. Whether he was being difficult on purpose or not was irrelevant, either way it seemed he wasn’t going to be as easy of a lay as you’d expected. And your hips were starting to feel a little sore.

If he wouldn’t move without incentive…

“What if…” 

His head tilted slightly, listening.

“What if I let you have the bed for each night you help me?”

That seemed fair, right?

“So… if I fuck you, I get to sleep in your bed?” 

“Only for that night.”

He thought it over and looked up at you through his lashes.

“Alright, that sounds fair.”

“Cool, you wanna shake on it o-or—“

He grabbed your arms and sat up on his elbows, gazing at you with the haughtiest expression you’d ever seen as sparks of violet and deep purples began to crackle in his hair.

“W-Wait a second—“ You leaned back instinctively, watching as horns began to spiral outward from his temples, his aura filling the air with an oppressive energy so thick it was hard to breathe.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” 

His tail whipped up and wrapped around your body, pinning your arms to your sides.

“I-I said you can’t hurt me.”

He grinned and laid back again, resting his arms behind his head.

“I’m aware~” he said, tail winding tighter. “You said you wanted help.”

You tested for any sort of give and found none.

“I don’t see how this helps.”

“No?” His eyes flashed with amusement and he lifted you slowly, then thrust you back down against his pelvis with a wet slap that sent a shudder rippling from your core up your spine. “Really?”

Something felt… different.

His cock pulsed, drawing your attention inward. Into this… feeling.

It… it was… wasn’t moving exactly, but the shape of it-

“You humans can be so stupid, it’s almost sad.” 

His tail squeezed tighter, lifting you with ease and slapping you down again.

Was it…

Again.

Whatever it was, it hit just-

“Did you really think your plan was something original?”

“N-No, I-“

Again.

Your back arched and you breathed out through your teeth, determined to not cum again until he finished.

“Hnn~” He hummed, the end of his tail curving around and feathering across your stomach. “I’m surprised you could be so brazen…”

You chanced a glance down at him, questioning without speaking a word.

His grin widened and his tail held fast, lifting and lowering you down on him as if you were nothing more than a toy.

“I don’t care what your reason is,” he said, a sadistic lust spreading across his face as he watched you pant and whine. “You can pretend to be some hero all you like~ but you and I both know…” It was…

Too much…

The way it moved with every pulse.

“Beh… Bel…”

His grin widened and he pulled you down, pushing himself even further inside. Your walls quivered and your eyes rolled, unable to process just whatthis feeling was.

“You’re just looking for a stud~”

“N-Nn-“

“Shut up,” he purred, his pace relentless as he used you to chase his pleasure.

You’d never-

Been-

“F-hah-“

He moaned, his tail constricting around your hips and rocking you against him, using your orgasm to milk himself as warmth blossomed deep within your core. So, so deeply you were already on the edge of another when he pulled you in close, wrapping his tail around so tight as his body locked.

One last throb up his length, making it flex inside you as he buried his seed deep inside.

Then, just as quickly as he’d bound you, his tail relaxed and began to unwind. You fell forward without the added support, just catching yourself on his chest in a breathless gasp.

“Mm…” He turned his head to the side, eyes already drifting shut. “You can stay there for a minute or two… but then get off of me. I want to sleep.”

“What… What the fuck was that?” you murmured, watching as his demonic features began to fade.

He said nothing, as expected.

“Hey.” You bounced your palms on his chest, shaking him. “Hey, Belphegor. Did you really fall asleep?”

Nothing but an idle snore answered you, and you sighed.

Well…

You looked down at yourself, feeling sore, sticky, and tired.

Dammit, he gets the bed tonight.

You sighed and lifted your hips up, wincing a little and clapping your hand over yourself to soothe the ache. He made no effort, no sign he was even conscious as you carefully climbed over him and caught yourself on wobbly legs. 

Once again, he appeared like nothing more than a young man….

You shook the thought away and gingerly tiptoed your way out of your room to find some spare blankets and pillows, holding your hand over yourself to keep it but his cum began to dribble out, spilling between your fingers.

You sighed and went to the bathroom instead to clean up, knowing that just one night wasn’t likely for it to take anyway, and if sacrificing a few nights in your bed would get you what you needed, so be it.

‘You’re just looking for a stud~’

You banished the thought as heat kissed your face yet again.

“You don’t know anything about me,” you muttered, flicking off the light and opting to just lay on the couch tonight. The morning could be for setting things up properly. Or the next day.

For now, you just wanted to sleep.

And not think about the violet eyes peering into your dreams.

[sapphire-heart-tippy]

Sapphire Heartverse! The fanfic

Part 1

Part 2: Living Adjustments

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

“Take a look at THIS.” Vanilla flashes the magazine in Dio’s face.

“A… furniture catalogue?” Dio gives Vanilla a very unimpressed face with a raised eyebrow.

“Wha-? No! My lord, LOOK. Look at the date!” Ice points frantically to the date printed on the catalog, “We are not in the 80s anymore, sire,” his voice cracks and wobbles, “We-he are… in… the future…”

Dio is still unamused and remains stoic on the outside. However, on the inside he is panicking as to why this sudden time shift has occurred. Dio takes the magazine and begins reading it nonchalantly,

“I’m more disappointed with the fact that you told me this anxiety of yours will not be an everyday occurrence.”

“But… but, my lord I-”

“Must be quiet while I am speaking.” Dio shushes his servant.

“Yes, Lord Dio.” Vanilla obeys.

“Hmph,” Dio flips through the pages, getting increasingly astonished with every image. Blast! Damn it all! I just now started learning about human culture back in the 80s and now I am forced to learn it all over again in 2022. God damn it. “You’re abnormally animated. This is not like you at all, Ice.” Dio tucks the magazine under his pillow.

“But, my lord, if you- I’m sorry.” Vanilla catches himself.

“No, no, go ahead and speak.” Dio tells him sarcastically.

“Well… what about the others? What do we tell the other servants? What do we tell the assassins? Do they already know?” Ice fidgets with his hands, brow furrowed with worry.

“So many questions. Here’s what I want you to do, Ice. Do the laundry, sweep the corridor, wash the dishes. There’s something to get your mind off this mess while you clean some.” Dio rubs his temples.

“Yes, sire. Very good, sire.” Vanilla Ice obeys his master.

While Vanilla is scrubbing up the dishes, Cream floats around gnawing on a piece of wood. The wood breaks and Cream devours it, then cries out for more. Vanilla huffs and throws another piece of wood at his stand, who catches it in his mouth. Cream gnaws and bites down on the wood block attempting to soothe himself.

“Hey, Nilla.” Terence walks in and leans against the doorframe, “Heard you going nutso on Lord Dio. What gives?”

“Do you really not know?” Vanilla makes a sour face at Terence while at the same time looking perturbed.

“About what?” Terence tilts his head at the brunette and narrows his eyes.

“Oh my god,” Vanilla slams down a dish on the counter in frustration, “Have you EVER gone outside in your life, Terence?”

“Jeez, I think that leotard of yours is riding up your ass, calm down.” Terence throws up his hands.

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT YEAR IT IS?!” Vanilla clenches his soapy sopping wet fists.

“Uh… are you feeling okay, bud?” Terence looks Vanilla up and down and steps back.

“Fine. Figure it out for yourself. Now if you will excuse me, I have chores to do.” Vanilla walks back to the sink, skids a little from the water on the floor, and continues washing dishes with a sigh.

A few months pass…

April

“Still no sign of the Joestars… how could this be? I do not understand. I feel it… I feel something is amiss. But what else could it possibly be?” Dio looks at himself in his full length mirror, “Perhaps they no longer exist? Then what is this I am feeling?”

Tuk tuk tuk

“No need to kneel, Mr Ice, come on in.” Dio calls to his servant.

“Yes, sire.” Vanilla opens the door, cell phone in hand.

“Oh good, have you found one yet?”

“I have, sire,” Ice shows his master, “I have privately messaged him on the application.”

Dio squints and moves the phone closer to his face, then further away, then closer again. The blonde accidentally presses a button, showing the home screen,

“Ope, wait, I accidentally pressed something.”

“S-sire, wait!” Vanilla tries to get the phone away from him.

“Let’s see here, nope, that’s not it.” Dio continues to tap on the phone making Vanilla even more worried,

“My lord, please! Let me-”

“Wait, I think I got it. Now I-” Dio accidentally goes into Vanilla’s image folder. The blonde immediately stops talking and daintily puts his fingers up in surprise. His amber eyes are wide and his lips are pursed. Ice’s face is burning with embarrassment.

“You can keep pictures on these things?” Dio glances up into Vanilla’s pleading milk chocolate brown eyes.

“Y-yes, sire…” Vanilla’s lip quivers as he looks down at his master with shame.

“Hm.” Dio, “I did not know that.” Dio smugly hands the phone back to Vanilla, “And that confirms what I already knew about you, ahaahaa! Chin up, dear, be proud.” Vanilla gives an embarrassed but relieved chuckle as he goes back to the instant messaging,

“See, my lord?”

Dio looks over the person’s stand parameters and what their stand looks like.

“Hmmm, yes, quite. Alright, send him on over.” Dio then waves Vanilla away and looks at himself in the mirror again.

“Yes, sire. I’ll um, tell him he won the contest.” Vanilla looks at his phone. I should probably keep a passcode on this thing…

Two days later

Vanilla gets ready to pick up the “winner” of the contest from the airport. The brunette puts on some sunglasses and drives off. It’s a long ways away, and Vanilla rides along in unusual silence. Normally, Vanilla would be rapping along to whatever artist he was obsessed with, but right now he is under a bit of stress from all the changes going on in the world. As it turns out, and to nobody’s surprise, everyone has been affected by the universe shift.

Ice stands in a crowd of people holding up a sign, patiently waiting for his passenger to step off the plane. After an agonizingly long wait time, finally they peer out from the crowd. Vanilla watches them through his shades as they cautiously approach him.

“Uh, Vanilla Ice?” A young man looks up at him. Ice is quite surprised by how incredibly short this gentleman is. The brunette pulls up his shades to the top of his forehead,

“You must be Tippy.” Taking the sign under his arm, he gestures for the gentleman to follow him, “Come, follow me.”

On the way to the mansion, neither of them really speak to each other. Tippy is just in awe at being in a new place. He looks out the window, his deep brown eyes following each thing that passes by. Vanilla doesn’t mind the silence, he prefers it actually.

“Hey, umm…” Tippy turns to face Vanilla.

“Need something?” Vanilla glances over at him.

“So… what’s Mr Dio like, exactly? What should I do when I meet him?” The blue haired one asks.

“Address him as Lord Dio. Perhaps bow a little. Don’t speak to him unless spoken to. Just be very respectful and everything should go smoothly… However, do not be afraid of him. Lord Dio just holds a strong authority. Treat him with said authority and you will be alright.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Tippy bites his lip with nervousness

Once the two get to the mansion, goosebumps cover Tippy’s extremities.

“It’s freezing in here.” He shivers. Vanilla is carrying the short one’s bags,

“Lord Dio prefers it cold. We just recently installed electricity and even the 'wee-fee' if you'd like to use that. However, Lord Dio strongly prefers traditional means of living.”

This place is kind of creepy. Why is the floor so clean but the ceiling and walls are covered in spider webs? Tippy ponders. Ice opens the door to Tippy’s new room and it’s well lit. There’s a cozy bed against the wall with blue sheets, a nice desk in a corner with a little desk lamp, a big dresser and a small closet. It’s very quaint and peaceful compared to the other rooms in the mansion, besides Vanilla’s of course.

“Let’s set your things in here for now. Lord Dio is just dying to meet you.” Vanilla clasps his hands together. The very tall man gently guides Tippy down the hall and up the stairs. Ice knocks on Dio’s bedroom door a few times.

“Ice, bring him in.” Dio’s smooth, sultry voice rings in Tippy’s ears. Vanilla gently pushes Tippy into Dio’s bedroom.

I’m going to die… Tippy gulps.

To be continued…

[yourmidnightlover]

never go back

Summary: spencer notices how your boyfriend takes advantage of you and finally does something about it.

TW: titty sucking, oral (female receiving), cheating, dom!spencer, scratching, slapping (only one), cursing, choking, spencer dirty talk lol, penetrative sex, creampie. *let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,724

A/N - i'm using noah as the 'other man' schtick in probably all of my future one shots bc i can't find it within myself to create a new character each and every time. so your douche of a bf will always be noah miller. if you ever get a nice bf i'll be sure to change his name but for now this is what we're working with. got it? got it.

masterlist

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

there are many things that people should go back to. schooling, maybe an old job, an old vacation spot.

your boyfriend was not one of those things.

mostly because your boyfriend sucked.

it was now a fact that spencer reid himself had come to believe quite a while ago and now, well now he had reason.

he had always felt as though you were too good for noah, similar for practically anyone in existence (himself included). he was always a complete ass to you no matter the circumstance.

there was one time the entire team had been back really late from a case that took a toll on all of you. it was emotionally and physically draining. the flight back had been delayed because of weather issues in the state you had been in, meaning you couldn't leave until days after it was solved.

any time you had gone to answer the phone, spencer would be able to see your stance and body language through the glass window. you had been apologizing for something you couldn't even control. you would narrow your brows the way you only did when you were being yelled at. you bit your lip the way you did when you were being made to feel guilty.

he was guilt tripping you for something you couldn't even control.

when you had gotten back it wasn't any better. noah had been giving you the cold shoulder. he was defensive when you asked what was wrong.

and that was only 3 weeks into the relationship.

after being together for 2 months, you had gotten flowers delivered on your desk. you assumed they were from your boyfriend, reasonably so, and went to go thank him. spencer saw the shock in your eyes when you saw your boyfriend huddled in the corner with some new intern. spencer saw the look in your eye change from sadness to anger in the blink of his own.

you took a deep breath, and walked away from the situation, completely missing the way he tucked the intern's hair behind her ear as he leaned in to whisper something to make her giggle. when you got back to your desk you threw the flowers in the garbage can, not even bothering to read the note.

it was pretty indirect, but looking into it he realized it was an issue that should've been addressed. every time the team would go out together, everyone was clearly invited. you would always decline because 'noah wanted to take me out tonight' or 'noah said he needs me, so i'll have to rain check'.

it wasn't because you were a bad person, the opposite actually. it was because noah was taking advantage of your kindness.

because any time you needed him, 'noah's out with the boys' or 'noah had to work late' or, here's a kicker, 'noah had a hard time at work'. as if you don't have a hard time looking at dead bodies while he just has to write up reports.

even when you got injured during a case, shot in the shoulder, noah seemed as though he couldn't have cared less. he wouldn't even go to your apartment to visit you while you were in recovery because 'noah didn't have time to visit'.

spencer could even recall when you went out with the girls one night, spencer being the designated driver, that you had told them how 'noah didn't want you to dress too provocatively so you had to wear something more modest'.

now, spencer doesn't care all to much about what you wear because, frankly, it's none of his business. but now that he heard how noah cared oh-so-much, he decided to wrack his brain for the 'provocative' outfits you've worn. there was not a single one that anyone should make a comment about. you looked stunning no matter what you wore, so you'd grab any man's attention no matter the clothing on your body.

but spencer? he made sure to never be that much of an asshole to you. he made sure to make up for him being an asshole.

he would grab you some morning coffee like you always had before you had a boyfriend. he would make sure to tell you that you looked lovely when you were able to go out with the team. he would visit you when you injured yourself and were lonely, he even stayed back for a few days with you to help you get through it.

hell, he was the one to get you the flowers. you had been having a rough week and spencer thought it might cheer you up. he had gifted you a bouquet of 12, blue chiffon flowers because those were your favorite.

but this was his breaking point. you had come to his apartment, once again in the middle of the night, talking about noah fucking miller cheating on you.

he had done it once before when he was 'out with the boys' you decided to stop by when he said he'd be back, wanting to just be the amazing girlfriend that you are. so when you walk in and hear your boyfriend moaning along with another woman that isn't you, you immediately run back out. you run back out and drive all the way to spencer's.  

and here you are again. spencer wasn't mad at you, it was noah he was mad at. he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

spencer had always liked you, no, he's always loved you. everything about you. how could he not? you're perfect.

but loving you how he does and seeing you being used as a toy to fuck for a certain noah miller not only made his heart ache but also made his blood boil.

spencer wasn't an idiot. he had heard the way the old morgan had referred to women. the thing is, noah is way more of a fuckboy than the old morgan ever was. and that scared spencer to pieces. he knew that you would only be missing out on team outings just to get fucked by a douchebag. he knew that the only reason said douchebag wouldn't visit you was because you couldn't fuck. he knew that the reason said douchebag was cornering that intern was to fuck her, too.

so when you arrived at spencer's place, this time you weren't crying. you were furious. you were angry and upset, as was spencer.

"he did it again, spence," you breathed out as you paced across his living room floor. "i was supposed to meet him in a few hours but i was going to surprise him and i caught him with another tramp! i didn't even confront him. i just- i just left!"

"cheated? noah?" he asked as if he didn't believe it at first, not wanting to seem like as much of a dick as noah.

"yes! cheated. god! i am so ANGRY!" you ran your hand through your hair, a grunt leaving your mouth. "and... and frustrated! and... UGH!" you sighed aggressively.

"and what?" spencer asked as he stood up, slowly making his way to you. "what else?" he said, his hand now brushing that stubborn strand of hair behind your ear.

"i-i'm..." you trailed off, getting lost in his beautiful eyes.

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit how much you loved spencer. but you thought he'd never love you like that. not since you helped him through jj getting married. he really thought she was it for him, at least that's what you'd come to think he believed. over the years you had grown so much closer and grown such an attraction for each other that the other person knew about. it was ironic, truly.

"say it, y/n," spencer leaned over you, his lips ghosting over yours. "i need to hear you say it."

"god, just kiss me," you said, your hands flying to the back of his hair to push his mouth to yours.

there was no hesitation from spencer to give you everything he had. his hand on the side of your face remained there as his other hand drifted to your waist to pull you closer to his body. your tongues met fervently with covetous, passion, and longing yet with just gentle firmness that felt protecting and as if it was how everything was supposed to be.

"please, spencer," you quietly whispered once you unlatched from one another.

"please what, princess," he asked, his hand running through your hair.

"i just... i need you," she pleaded with him, her hands still tugging gently on his hair. "please," you put your foreheads together, breathing in each others air as you silently begged him to help you in any way that he could.

"i'd do anything for you," he whispered so delicately as if the entire team were standing right beside you. "you know i'd do anything for you."

"then do something," you demanded.

spencer took action by kissing you just as intensely as before, this time his hands went to your ass. he grabbed your thighs to signal for you to jump, once you did you wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you into his bedroom. he set you down just in front of the bed before you began to undo his shirt, him returning the favor by undoing yours.

"god, i've wanted you for so long," he growled, nipping gently at your earlobe as he laid you back on the bed. "lift your hips," he ordered, you obeyed his every command. you always would. "good girl," he praised as he ran his hands down your now bare waist.

"please," you begged, your hips bucking up to get any source of friction. "spencer..." you trailed off.

"i know, princess. i know," he said before climbing on top of you, connecting your lips with his once again, this time much more eager than before if that were possible.

as you arched your back, he took the opportunity to unclasp the hook on your bra. you shrugged it off your shoulders to allow him to throw the bra somewhere else in his room. he finally took a breath, removing his lips from yours to admire the view in front of him.

"god, you're so beautiful," he growled before placing gentle but eager kisses along the tops of your breasts, massaging the one his mouth wasn't on.

he pressed his knee between your legs, allowing you to buck your hips up to get that release you wanted so bad. you whined as he took your nipple in his mouth, his tongue flicking past it rapidly as he occasionally nibbled on it gently.

"spen-spencer," you ran your hands through his hair, tugging gently on the roots.

"mmm," he sat his head up, trailed kisses up your throat. "god, i love you so much."

"i-i love you," you moaned, pulling his head up to connect your lips together. "i love you so so much."

"i'm so glad to hear that," he huffed a sigh of relief. "because otherwise it'd be awkward when i did this," he began trailing kisses down your body, leading down towards your center. "i'll show you what it's like to be with a man that actually loves and respects you, yea? show you what it feels like to actually be pleased by a man? what it's like to be with a real man?" he teased.

his fingers trailed around your entrance, gathering your arousal that'd been building for what felt like ages. he pressed gentle kisses around your pussy before finally connecting his lips with your clit, a low groan emitting from your body because of the contact.

"yes, please," you shot your head back, relishing in the feeling of the direct skin contact.

"hey," spencer slapped your thigh, your head shot back up to see him between your legs, a truly beautiful sight that you'd never get tired of. "eyes on me," he demanded before going back down on you, not breaking eye contact as he brought out sounds from you that you weren't even sure you could make. "talk to me, princess. let me know how it feels."

"fe-feels so good," you sighed, taking your breasts in your hands and massaging them. "i-i can-can't even think," you stuttered out, too caught up in the pleasure to form a coherent sentence.

you had felt so good as he sucked on your clit, succeeding in bringing you closer to the edge than noah ever has, but when he inserted two fingers into your entrance...

"oh my fuck!" your hands shot down to grab onto his locks, pushing him further into your body, a low groan leaving him.

his fingers didn't stop their work. he curled them at just the right spot, sending you flying over the edge. spencer used his free hand to grab onto your thigh to keep them from closing in completely on his head, still working you through your high. he placed a kiss on your clit once more before he brought his head up to you, connecting your lips passionately.

"could noah ever make you come like that? huh? could he make you feel so good you could barely even think?" he grabbed your chin in his hands, holding it in place to look at him as you shook your head the best you could. "no?"

"mm-mm," you tried to shake your head 'no' once more.

"did you think of him while i was going down on you? were you thinking about how he fucked that little tramp?" he asked harshly, you shook your head 'no' again. "oh, what were you thinking, princess?" he finally released your face so you could speak.

"ab-about how well you know my body. about how, how good you looked between my legs. about how much i love you," you replied quickly, knowing exactly what to say.

"right answer," he connected your lips once more. "what do you want, love?" he asked, peppering soft kisses along your jaw where his hands once held your throat firmly.

"you. i-i want you in-inside me," you swallowed, your hand finding his and pulling it up to your lips to press a kiss to it, then another, then another, then another. "please, doctor?" you used your best puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn't resist.

"god, call me that again," he rasped lowly.

"what... doctor?" you took his hand and started sucking on his fingers, letting them slip in and out slowly and then moving onto the next.

"fuck, yes," he growled as he pressed another kiss to your lips before lining himself up at your center. "are you sure, princess?" he traced your jaw with the fingers you were previously sucking on.

"yes, sir," you nodded. "i'm sure."

you felt him slowly push inside of you slowly to allow you to adjust to his size. you had your suspicions of how big he was, but feeling him inside of you made it all much more real.

"fuck, you're so tight," he moaned into your ear quietly as he slowly pulled back out, going in just as slow.

"sp-spence-"

"wrong," he slapped your face gently, a whimper leaving your lips before he grasped your face to make you look him in the eyes.

"doc-doctor," you corrected yourself.

"good girl," he said, feeling your pussy clench from the praise. "oh you like that?" he felt it again. "maybe you just like hearing me talk, yea?" his pace began picking up slowly. "you like hearing how this pussy makes me feel? how tight... and warm... and wet it is?"

"u--uh huh," you nodded your head the best you could as he began thrusting much more rapid, hitting that special spot inside of you with each movement.

"it seems like you haven't felt this good in a long time huh? haven't had your pussy pounded like this in a while?" he asked as he was catching his breath.

"ne-never, doctor," you confirmed, hands reaching around his back and dragging your nails down, surely leaving scratch marks all down them.

"fuck," he growled. "noah never made you feel this good princess? never made you forget how to speak in sentences? never knew how to get you going like this?"

"n-no, no! never! god, never!" you cried as you pulled his body even closer to you. "i-i'm close, please!"

"you wanna come all over my dick, yea? you want to show me how much your pussy loves it when a real man fucks it?"

that was it to let that spring burst inside of you, parts flying everywhere. you cried his name as he worked you through your orgasm, holding onto his shoulders and hair to keep you grounded.

"cum inside me, please," you begged. "fi-fill me up."

"fuck, whatever you want, princess," he kept pounding into you at a rapid pace. "god, i'm gonna come inside you, and send you back to that scumbag of a boyfriend so he can see that you're mine now. so he can see what happens when his girlfriend is mistreated and fucked by someone who knows what they're doing, yea?"

"yea, yea!" you whined, nails digging back into his skin as he released his load into you, thrusting it gently back inside after.

"god, i love you so much," he moaned into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek by your ear.

"i love you," you replied, stroking his hair to help him come down, him still inside of you. he began thrusting inside of you once again.

"don't want any of it to spill out before you get to him," he felt you clench around him one more time. "you're very responsive, princess. i like that about you."

"it-it's just you, spence. it's always been you," you pulled him in for another kiss.

this one was full of passion but not the kind of eagerness. it was full of desire and longing, pent up emotions flowing out into one another fluidly.

"now let me go see my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend," you huffed as he pulled out of you, wincing from the overstimulation. "i'll see you later?"

"i'll see you later," he pressed a kiss to your forehead before helping you gather your clothes.

driving back to his apartment, you felt rather giddy with yourself. should you have felt bad? absolutely not. he's a manipulative asshole who's used you for sex on numerous occasions, so he deserved the bittersweet irony of what was coming to him.

*get it, coming to him? lol i'm sorry i had to :)*

you knocked on the door softly, greeted by a rather chipper noah who grabbed your face as soon as he saw you, connecting your lips. his kiss was nothing like spencer's. his lips weren't as soft and tentative. they weren't plump and round, they were harsh and rough and unpleasant.

he quickly led you to the bedroom, not to your surprise. he sat down on the bed, you straddled his hips, acting as if it were spencer instead - which was pretty hard to do after knowing what he was like in the sack.

you felt his boner through his pants quickly after you got on top of him. then when he flipped you over and pulled your pants and underwear down, he was met with a surprise.

"someone's excited to see me," he chuckled before licking a thick stripe from your slit to clit, very aggressive to where it almost hurt to have the pressure. "god you taste so good, doll."

he continued at this for a while, inserting his tongue to your hole very once in a while and licking up yours and spencer's arousal with it. you faked your moans and whimpers as his ministrations became more eager, not really getting you anywhere.

after he was finished with your turn - no, he didn't even make you cum - he laid back on the bed as if he were waiting for you to get on top of him again.

"actually," you stood up from the bed, pulling up your clothes with you. "i'm done with this. we're over."

you watched his face as he took in the information just released to him. it changed from surprised and shocked, to confused, to disgusted, to angry and frustrated.

"what the fuck?" he sat up from the bed, a disgruntled look on his face. "you wait until after you cum to tell me this?" he walked over to you, arms flailing in the air.

"yea. i did. and by the way, i didn't cum," you informed him. "that's something you've never really been good at making me do. although i'm not sure how you've been able to convince me to do anything with the way you treat me."

"what do you mean? i'm a good gu-"

"shut up for one second, please," you rolled your eyes, running your hand through your hair. "i know you've cheated on me numerable times. i stayed because i thought that maybe there was a reason, but i've come to realize that i was just... settling with you," you shrugged.

"you've treated me like crap since this 'relationship' started and i'm tired of it. i know someone who not only treats me with respect and kindness, but can also actually make me cum. shocker," you chuckled.

"who is this asshole? what the hell-"

"i wasn't finished, sweetie," you spat out viciously. "he's not an asshole. you're the asshole. you're the one that's getting dumped. so this is goodbye," you turned around to walk out of his room before leaving him with one more thought. "how did his cum taste with mine?" you tilted your head innocently, smiling at his shocked face as he realized what you meant before walking out.

and you were never more glad that you didn't have to go back to him anymore.

taglist:

@muffin-cup​ @greenprisca​ @averyhotchner​ 

[nastybuckybarnes]

Hoist The Colours  -  3/3

Pairing: Pirate!Bucky X SeaGoddess!Reader 

Summary: An encounter with the man you used to love lands you and your new crew in peril, stuck on a ship with the people responsible for binding you. And what they have planned for you is far worse than what you’d first imagined.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Fluff, Violence, Injuries, Death,

Word Count: 2.2K

A/n: Oof another thing is finished. I’m gonna start actually finishing stuff but Idk what to write I’m sad that my stuff is ending :( But I hope you enjoy this!

~*~

The door to your cell gets wrenched open, pulling you from your light sleep.

“You!” Rumlow snarls, grabbing you by the throat and lifting you to your feet.

“Where have they taken my prisoners?” You furrow your brows, yanking out of his grip.

“How am I supposed to know? I was left behind.” He grinds his teeth together and grabs your bicep, dragging you out of your cell and onto the main deck.

The clouds are dark and gloomy, the waters wild and violent, but not by your doing.

“You must’ve helped them, that other witch too! So tell me, how did you do it?” He shoves you and you gasp, tumbling onto the wet wood of the deck.

“How could I have helped them? You have me chained up like a dog!” You spit, glaring up at him. He stoops down to your level, grabbing your face harshly.

“You will watch your tongue or you will lose it. You do not need your voice to do my bidding.” He shoves you back down and you bite back a yelp of pain.

The sky darkens further, thunder booming and clouds rolling in.

“I will never do your bidding!” You snarl, a flash of lightning punctuating your words.

Rumlow’s eyes widen for a moment, and then he’s got his sword pointed at you, the tip just brushing your throat.

“On your feet, witch!” You obey, standing up with your chin held high.

“You will do my bidding, or you will join all those who you have sent to the depths. It is your choice.” You follow his gaze over your shoulder to where the plank is being extended over the raging ocean.

You look back at him, jaw set, and he knows you’ve made your decision.

The wind whips around your hair as he walks you to the plank, his sword digging into your back just hard enough to cause discomfort, but not pain, not yet.

You carefully step onto the plank, taking deep breaths of the salty air as the water rages beneath you.

“I will give you one last chance, wench. I will spare your life, all you need do is swear your powers to me. You’ll have the sea back in your grasp, the power to do what you please. You need only do so at my side.”

Raindrops splatter against your face, just gently at first, until you’re consumed in an intense storm, the water pelting down against you.

“You’ve forgotten, Captain, that you are not sending me to the depths,” you look over your shoulder at him with a small smile, “you are sending me home.”

You look down at the water, preparing yourself for the cool embrace, when a particularly harsh wave rocks against the ship, sending you stumbling back a step.

A wave rises up over the ship, a spiral of green swirling inside of it and for a moment you think that you’ve already died.

The wave crashes against the ship, sending the men falling and scrambling, submerging the deck for a moment.

But you stay rooted in place, the familiar green hue just touching your fingertips, the ends of your hair, then slowly becoming part of you once more.

You hear the men shouting and coughing, feel Rumlow’s sword pressed against your back once again, but you only turn around to face him.

The storm continues, the waves fighting the ship, and you cock your head to the side, sending a gust of wind towards the man threatening you. He stumbles back, eyes wide with fear.

“H-how do you...” You take slow steps towards him, waving your hand behind you as his crew-mates try to run at you. The wind pushes them back, keeping them a safe distance from you and the captain.

“You will give me answers and you will give them to me now!” You hiss, glaring daggers at him.

“Whatever it is that you wish to know, I will tell you. Just please, spare my life.”

You watch him for a long moment, fighting tears as the question bubbles out of you.

“Why? Why did he do it?”

Rumlow only shakes his head, on his knees and ready to beg for mercy.

“’twas me... I caused him to do it. With the help of a siren for the price of his left arm, I got the binding spell from him. He knew not what he was doing, though he gave the information.” You let out a shaky breath, a weight lifted off of your shoulders.

“All this time I had thought it was he who betrayed me... but it wasn’t.” You turn your gaze to him, eyes glowing green with the influx of power.

“It was you. You and your greed.” He shakes his head and scrambles back desperately.

You step aside as a sword comes down right where you were standing, and Rumlow uses your momentary distraction to sprint away.

“Kill her! Kill the Witch!” He shouts, grabbing his own sword.

You shake your head, the wind whipping strong enough to keep them away.

A nagging in your mind stops you for a moment, and a smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“The King and his men stole the queen from her bed... and bound her in her bones.” Your voice travels on the wind.

“The seas be ours, and by the powers, where we will, we’ll roam.”

“Captain! We’ve got a ship coming up starboard!” A man shouts, pointing his sword at the familiar ship.

“They’re upon us! Battle stations!” The men scramble to their stations, trying to get prepared as the ship approaches.

“Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colours high. Heave ho, thieves and beggars, never shall we die.” The voices ring out to you clear as day, responding to the call.

It’s only a matter of moments before canons start firing and men start boarding the ship, swords clashing and guns firing.

Your eyes scan the crowd, freezing on a man approaching you. You simply look at him and he crumples to the ground, grabbing at his throat.

“Rumlow!” You shout, following your instincts up to the foredeck and finding the captain cowering, exactly how you thought he would.

“You want to throw me overboard, captain?” You sneer his title, taking another step towards him. He stumbles back, slipping on the wet wood and scrambling away from you and towards the main deck.

“You forget that I am the sea and all things in it.”

The rain pelts down on you and the wind whips your hair around your face wildly, your eyes glowing green with the force of your power.

At that moment, you look every bit the sea goddess that the stories described. And today, you’re planning on being just as cruel.

“You stripped me of my purpose, my power. Bound me to my form and took away my reason for existence! You sacrificed the man I love for your own greedy gain. What do you have to say for yourself?” Your powers protect you from the fighting around you, the man before you protected as well.

No one will take your vengeance from you.

“I’m sorry!” He cries, slipping back further.

You shake your head and grab him by the front of his tunic, tossing his sword aside and glaring into his eyes.

“No, you’re not. Not yet. But you will be, that I promise you.”

You cock your head to the side, your free hand coming up, fingers flexed.

The water on the deck swirls around your ankles, clawing up the man before you.

“You’ve never had your purpose taken from you because a man like you has no purpose.” You twist your wrist, controlling the water around you and watch in satisfaction as his eyes widen, the water rising up over his face.

“So what else can I take, but your life?” You ask rhetorically, watching as the water trickles into his mouth and nose, slowly at first, then picking up speed.

He tries to claw at you, but his hands can’t reach you. His struggles are futile, though that doesn’t stop him.

You steal the life away from him, exactly the way he did to you.

He collapses on the ground, his body convulsing for a moment before falling still, death embracing him.

You take a deep breath, embracing your freedom, then slowly turn around.

You’re instantly meet with piercing blue eyes staring at you from across the ship. His chest is heaving and he’s squinting through the downpour, but his eyes are on you.

You walk over to him, the rain lessening with each step you take until you’re right in front of him.

The wind dies down and the ocean becomes calm. The fighting around you draws to a sombre end, victory on the tip of your tongue.

His sword clatters to the ground, his hands finding yours ever so gently, his eyes filled with so many emotions.

“Gentlemen, the ship is ours!” Steve shouts, a smile on his face. You turn around, pulling Bucky’s arms around your waist as you watch the crew celebrate their success.

Your eyes find Wanda’s and Tony’s through the crowd, both of them smiling brightly up at you.

The two crews celebrate, Pirates and Kingsmen, and you can’t help but smile at them.

“Back to the ship! We’ve gotten what we came for. The King can enjoy plundering Rumlow’s ship. I trust that will keep him off of our back for a while, yes?” Steve looks at Tony pointedly and the brunet nods.

You step out of your lover’s arms and walk down to the two men, one hand gently finding Tony’s forearm.

“I owe you a debt, Tony. One I fear I may never be able to repay.” He shakes his head, taking your hands gently in his and smiling at you.

“You’ve no debt to be paid. But if you feel so inclined, could you maybe hold back any storms for the next day or so? I’d like a chance to dry my clothes.” You giggle and nod, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, for all that you’ve done for myself and Wanda.” He gives you a tender smile and nods.

“It’s what I wish had been done for my mother.” He sniffles then straightens up.

“Now come on, men. It’s time we return to the King!” His crew-mates start busying themselves quickly.

“Alright lads, back to the ship!” Steve calls, leading his own crew members to their ship.

You watch as everyone eagerly crosses, smiling encouragingly at Wanda. She crosses swiftly, her eyes drawing to the helmsman for a moment.

“Are you ready?” A soft voice asks from behind you. You take a breath then nod, looking over at him.

“Yes.”

The two of you cross back to his ship, the ship almost cooing at you as soon as your feet hit the deck. You can’t fight the smile the spreads on your face at being back, and you don’t try to.

“It’s good to have you back,” Steve says, giving you a nod. You do the same, sighing happily.

“It’s good to be back, Steve.” Bucky takes your hand then and tugs you gently towards his quarters.

The door closes softly behind you and you take a moment to reacquaint yourself with the room.

You can feel his eyes on you, the tension palpable but not unpleasant.

Without looking at him, you speak.

“Could you help me out of my gown? It’s far too heavy.” He walks towards you, untying the back and watching as the fabric slides down your body, leaving you only in your white slip.

His hands hesitantly trail over your skin, one cold and one hot and the contrast is so delicious.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch, head falling to the side as he presses soft kisses to your neck.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, my love,” he whispers against your skin, spinning you around to face him.

You gaze up at him lovingly, one hand coming up to cup his jaw.

“Show me,” you whisper, leaning up to gently brush your lips over his.

“Show me how much you missed me. Give me a reason to clear the skies and calm the seas. Make me give us good wind and easy sail. Prove to me that you’re still worthy of my mercy.”

He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing each one of your fingers then smiling.

“I’ll never truly be worthy of your mercy. But I am more than willing to both swear and prove my loyalty to you. I will give myself over to you; body, heart, mind, and soul.”

You look up at him tenderly, cupping his cheek gently.

“I will sail to the ends of the Earth for you, fight the gods if I need to. Anything to keep you in my arms.”

“My heart belongs to you, James. And never will it belong to anyone else.”

[archived-kin]

petty ghost haunts their murderer but doesn’t actually do anything vengeful, more at eleven

note from kin: i don’t even know what this is myself to be honest but the simple way of putting it is that you were accidentally killed by one of satan’s fits of rage and now your ghost follows him around and messes with him at any given opportunity out of pettiness

basically i came up with the prompt ‘vengeful spirit is more of a slightly miffed and extremely petty spirit who doesn’t actually do much but inconvenience their hauntee, shenanigans ensue’ and ran with it

(as a heads up, reader is not mc in this situation, and this takes place before any of the exchange program stuff, so belphie’s not in the attic and solomon and the angels aren’t in the devildom)

fandom: obey me!

character(s): gn!reader, satan, beelzebub

pairing(s): satan/reader (though it isn’t particularly romantic since you’re, y’know, dead, so it’s more of a satan & reader)

warning(s): references to death, beel eats an entire rotisserie chicken

genre: crack (with a bit of fluff i guess???)

“For the last time, [Name], put the knife down.”

“Bite me, bitch-boy.”

Satan lets out a long-suffering sigh and sets down his mug of coffee, then reaches out and carefully pushes the floating butter knife pointed directly at his jugular back down onto the table. “I don’t know why you keep trying that. You do know it wouldn’t actually get through my skin even if you did manage to hit me, right?”

“It’s the thought that counts,” comes your disembodied voice from somewhere near the ceiling. You’ve probably decided to float up there to sulk like you always do after a failed attack.

“I’d prefer you didn’t think about it at all.”

A still-wet towel pulls itself from the rack on the wall and hits him square in the face. Satan gives an exasperated groan as it slides down his face and lands on the table with a soft splat.

“That’s what you get,” You sniff indignantly, finally materialising in front of him with a scowl. You’re floating upside down in a way that makes it look like you’re standing on the ceiling. “Buttface.”

“Come on, you can come up with better material than that,” Satan shakes his head, pushing back his chair and picking up the wet towel you’ve just flung at him to hang it back up again. “Where did all your creativity from yesterday go?”

“Six feet under with the remains of my body, probably,” you reply with a scowl. Then, as an afterthought, you add, “Confounded cheese wheel.”

“Oh, that’s a new one,” He comments, mildly surprised. “Where’d you pick that up?”

“Made it up myself. Ha!” You bob past him and through the wall, most likely to go terrorise Mammon by making his lights flicker on and off again. “Guess my creativity isn’t as dead as I am after all.”

“You still haven’t gotten over that, I see.” He sighs.

Your head immediately pops back out of the wall and glares across the room at him. “Excuse me?”

“It’s been weeks now - months, even,” Satan explains carefully as he sits back down at the table, not wanting to aggravate you further. The last time he'd brought something like this up, he’d ended up making you so angry that you’d managed to become physically corporeal enough to fling him across the room. “I would have thought you’d have passed on by now, that’s all. Surely it doesn’t take this long for the gates to the Celestial Realm to open?”

You consider his words, apparently appeased by their logic. “...I guess. Maybe I’m not passing on because I can’t rest in peace yet, like the ghosts do in horror films.”

“They’re films, you can’t expect to apply what happens in them to reality,” Satan replies flatly. “Besides, even if that was the situation, you've met all the criteria to 'rest in peace’, haven't you?”

“Are you trying to tell me, the dead one here, what merits as ‘resting in peace’?” You counter, floating back through the wall so that your entire body is in the room again. “My murderer’s still walking about like he doesn’t dress in the entire green colour spectrum and think it’s a good idea. How am I supposed to rest in peace knowing that?”

Satan looks down at his outfit, a little offended. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

“What’s right with your clothes?” You shoot back, drifting over to him and passing a ghostly hand through his shoulder, apparently too lazy to muster up the energy to make your hand physical enough to touch him. “Look at it! Your blazer doesn’t even have lapels!”

“It isn’t a blazer.”

“Jacket, then.” You make a move as if to pinch at the fabric, but your fingers just pass right through it like a hot knife through butter. “It doesn’t even fit you. The sleeves are too short.”

Satan resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to wear it if it didn’t fit me. Besides, why does it matter to you?”

“The demon I might be doomed to be attached to for the rest of my afterlife has the worst fashion sense in all three realms is the matter,” You sigh dramatically and float up to the ceiling again. “Why do you even wear rip-off jeans if you’re going to put a belt over it?”

“First of all, they aren’t rip-off jeans,” Satan tells you as you start idly making the kitchen light flicker. He should probably tell you to stop doing that whenever you get bored, but he’s gotten so used to it at this point that he can’t really be bothered to. “And, second of all, why does it matter if I’m wearing a belt on it?”

“Rip-off jeans are meant to be ripped off,” You explain with all the patience of a mother explaining something to a curious child, completely disregarding Satan’s first point. “Putting a belt on top of it kind makes that redundant.”

Satan thinks about it for a moment and begrudgingly comes to the conclusion that your statement is correct - not that it makes a difference to him. “...they’re still not rip-off jeans.”

“Think whatever you want to think, burro verde.”

“What?”

“It means green donkey in Spanish.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Where’d you get that from?”

“I took Spanish for, like, three years when I was in high school,” You shrug, and the light brightens and dims slightly with the movement of your shoulders, as if it’s shrugging with you. “Failed all the exams, but at least I got something worthwhile out of it.”

“Three years of linguistic lessons and all you learn is how to string together bizarre insults,” Satan shakes his head. “You really are incorrigible.”

“That’s a big word. You sure you know what it means?”

“Of course I do,” He gives you a slightly disgruntled look. “I wouldn’t use it if I didn’t. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who doesn’t know what incorrigible means, obviously.” You pretend to aim a kick at the spider perched quietly in the corner of the ceiling, but Timothy ignores your efforts to boot him from his web. After a moment, growing tired of bothering the little guy, you ask, “...what does it mean?”

Satan snickers, then answers, sounding as if he’s reading the definition directly out of a dictionary, “In reference to a person or their behaviour, unable to be changed or reformed.”

You contemplate his words for a few seconds. “Is that a good thing?”

“Not usually when that particular word is used for it, no.”

“Oh. Bitch.”

He pauses at that, moving his mug of now marginally cooler coffee away from his mouth again, having been in the middle of taking another sip when you decided to insult him again. “Where did that come from?”

“You called me incorrigible, which you just said is not a good thing to be,” You explain as if it’s obvious, frowning down at him. “So I’m taking it as an insult and insulting you back. Bitch.”

“You didn’t have to say it again.”

“I didn’t, but it’s fun to call you names.” You snort and glide down from the ceiling to float above the table, crossing your legs and pretending to sit down on it. “It’s not as fun as it used to be, though. You never get all puffed up about it anymore.”

“That’s your own fault for doing it so much that I got used to it,” Satan reproaches. “Besides, it was pointless getting angry. It’s not like I can do anything to you in return.”

“You could ignore me and pretend I don’t exist or something.”

“Is that what you want me to do?”

“No!” You hurriedly throw up your hands in a gesture of surrender and shake your head so hard that Satan swears he actually feels a breeze - an even more impressive achievement considering that your body isn’t even tangible. “Please don’t. You’re the only being in the entire universe that I can actually interact with.”

“Sometimes I wonder if that is a good thing,” Satan mutters.

“It’s a good thing for me, and that’s all that matters,” You reply, unfazed.

No one other than Satan appears to have the ability to see you, which is an odd thing in and of itself. Ghosts aren’t a foreign thing to the Devildom - they’re so common that you could probably just walk into a convenience store and find one shelving cans of soup - but you don’t seem to follow any of the rules that they do. Sometimes Satan wonders if you’re able to actively choose to not allow his brothers to see you as you drift around the house, but then again, he’s pretty sure that, if you had the option to make Lucifer watch you pretend to fist fight that weird skeleton hanging in his room, you definitely would.

Satan doesn’t pretend to understand the laws of your otherworldly existence - he’s read so many variations on the rules behind lingering spirits like you that he can scarcely tell the difference between pure fiction and actual logical hypothesis. It’s easy enough to wrangle you into behaving for a day so that he can observe you properly by promising to leave his radio on for you while he’s out, but the observations themselves never seem to lead to anything. He knows that you’re able to pass through any physical object (as far as he knows), can make lights (of both the electronic and candle variety) flicker at will, can muster up enough physicality to move and touch things if you try, and can phase in and out of perceivable view, but he doesn’t know why you can do any of those things.

“Quit trying to come up with explanations for everything,” You’d told him wisely a month or so ago, when you’d floated in on him muttering to himself about the possibility of something called ‘ether energy’. “You’re just gonna give yourself a headache.”

Then you’d started making his candles flicker like disco lights until he stopped.

“...but I don’t think he spotted me, since he probably would’ve commented on the floating meat cleaver if he did, and— hey, big guy!”

That last exclamation is aimed at Beel, who has just walked into the kitchen and is now rummaging unceremoniously through the fridge, most likely in search of something to eat. At this point Satan’s pretty sure that you still don’t know any of his brothers’ names - at the very least, even if you do, you’ve never called them by them.

Beel continues to sort through the various already empty boxes and containers in the fridge as you start zooming back and forth through him, marvelling over the sheer broadness of his chest and shoulders. It isn’t the first time you’ve done this to him - or indeed any of the brothers - but Satan can tell that it’s more innocent awe than any kind of objectification or intent to harm, so he doesn’t mind. As mischievous as you are, he’s pretty sure you don’t have a genuinely malicious or wanton bone in your body... well, you don’t have any bones anymore - or a body, for that matter - but the point still stands.

“Hungry?” He guesses, but it’s honestly more of a statement. It is Beel, after all.

The Avatar of Gluttony withdraws from his search briefly to offer a nod. “I didn’t get to finish all of my lunch.”

“Well, there’s a surprise,” You comment as Beel sticks his head back into the fridge, finally tiring of buffeting yourself back and forth like a pendulum and choosing to start hovering just over the second youngest’s shoulders to watch his hunt. “Wonder what he was up to that got him to stop eating.”

Satan opens his mouth to reply, then stops and closes it again. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Beel with the not-really-a-secret of your existence, but he’s sure that at some point or another, Beel will end up letting it slip to Lucifer, who would most likely want to know why your death ended up attaching your spirit to his brother, and Satan’s already gone to great lengths to make sure that the oldest won’t find out about the rampage he went on that cost you your life in the first place. It'd just be a waste of that effort for Lucifer to find out anyway. Besides, it isn’t like the information will make much difference to Beel - he can’t see or hear you, and you’re pretty harmless, so there wouldn’t be any need for him to get involved in the situation anyway.

You, meanwhile, are well aware that Satan isn’t going to be saying anything to you while one of his brothers is in the room - you don’t really understand his reasoning for it, since you like to think that you’re a pleasure of a ghost to know, but you suppose you can’t really force him to make any decisions. Besides, you’re pretty content with the way things are right now; you don’t want to complicate the situation by bringing in another demon who, as far as you know, might just smite you on the spot if they find out about your existence.

Instead, you busy yourself with watching in fascination as Beel somehow pulls what looks like a rotisserie chicken from the very back of the fridge and shove the whole thing in this mouth. You exchange slightly disturbed looks with Satan as he begins to chew - you’re pretty sure you’ve just seen him dislocate his jaw like a snake to fit it in there.

“You might want to calm down, Beel,” Satan advises after a brief moment’s stunned silence, though even he knows that it’s a fruitless warning. “You’ll end up choking.”

Beel nods, but makes absolutely no move to slow in his aggressive chewing.

“This must be what the peak of evolution looks like,” You say in bemused awe as Beel finishes eating. The entire chicken has disappeared down his throat - bones and all. “How the hell does he manage that?”

Satan doesn’t answer, but his subtle shrug says that your guess is as good as his.

Much to your surprise and Satan’s resignation, Beel immediately goes back to the fridge, apparently unsatisfied by the copious amount of fowl he’s just eaten. To be honest, you feel sorry for the guy - while the you from when you’d still been able to eat would have done some unspeakable things to be able to consume as much as he does and still remain that fit, you’re sure that the black hole he calls a stomach must be an awful thing to have to deal with. At least he gets to enjoy a lot of food because of it, though you suppose it’s a double-edged sword if he’s also constantly being scolded for it. Personally, you don’t understand the reasoning behind telling someone off for eating as much food as they need, but they are demons. You probably shouldn’t expect them to have that level of compassion.

By the time you break out of your train of thought, Beel has found something else to eat amidst the many empty boxes in the fridge. It’s much smaller than the rotisserie chicken - some kind of pastry with a dollop of snowy white cream on top, decorated with a few lines of melted chocolate to look like a cat’s face. In fact, it looks almost identical to…

“Hey, wait!” You swipe a useless hand through Beel’s arm as he raises the pastry to his mouth. “Don’t eat that—!”

Too late. The pastry disappears into Beel’s mouth, and you drift backwards again, letting out a defeated groan. Satan shoots you a curious look - you can’t eat, after all, so why are you so upset about Beel eating that pastry? Is there something special about it?

His question is answered when he actually turns to look at his younger brother. The Avatar of Gluttony has gone rigid on the spot and is blinking rapidly, his eyes the size of moons.

“Beel…?” Satan questions hesitantly. “Are you feeling alright?”

Beel takes a long moment to respond, nodding slowly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Satan takes a closer look and realises that Beel’s pupils seem to have dilated to an almost impossible degree, resembling a cat’s eyes when it’s about to go absolutely feral. Whatever it is was in that pastry, it’s definitely hit him hard.

Now, Satan isn’t one to interrupt good fun when it’s about to happen, so instead of stepping in and performing some sort of spell that might help on his possibly-high brother like a good guy, he sits back and watches as Beel’s head swings around the room as if he's never seen anything in it before like the mischief-loving little shit he is. Beel himself doesn’t appear to be negatively affected, so it can’t be that bad, right?

You float cautiously around the giant as his hands ball into fists. His entire body is trembling slightly with pent-up energy. Then, a split second later, as if he’s been zapped by some catalystic bolt of lightning, he abruptly snaps back on his heel and positively zooms out of the room. You can practically see the cartoony cloud of dust that he’s kicking up as he disappears down the corridor.

“He’s absolutely zooted right now,” You comment, flipping upside with a resigned sigh and crossing your arms a little grumpily. “I told him not to eat it.”

“He couldn’t hear you, you know,” Satan says, moving over to the fridge and slamming it shut, since Beel has neglected to. “What was even in that thing?”

You shrug. “Don’t know. I’ve just been calling it demon-nip.”

“I suppose that it does to demons what catnip does to cats, then?” Satan doesn’t even wait for you to answer before continuing - rude. “How did you even get a hold of it? Never mind that, how did you manage to get it in a pastry and put it in the fridge?”

“I got some help from one of the poltergeists downtown to make it,” You wave your hands about dismissively. “You should pay more attention when you go out. I disappeared for, like, five hours, and you didn’t even notice.”

“When even was this?”

“Tuesday, I think. Remember when you bought that giant bag of cat paw-shaped biscuits and then accidentally dropped the bag in the hall and got them everywhere?”

You don’t miss the way that the tips of his ears go slightly pink as he coughs subtly and averts his gaze. “...why would the poltergeists help you? They hate humans.”

“I don’t know, actually…” You ponder for a moment, then decide, “...probably because I’m cute.”

“Are you?” Satan deadpans. “Cute is what you’d call a cat. You’re just… tolerable.”

“Oh, fuck you, I think I’m adorable.” You huff, flying over and poking him hard in the side of the head. Satan hisses in pain and reaches up to rub the sore spot, but he supposes he should have seen that blow coming - you’re never too humble to make yourself physical enough to hit him after an insult.

“Where did that idea even come from?” He asks quickly, not wanting to take another attack. You may be a mere imprint of a dead human, but your fingers are sharp, and he’d prefer not to provoke you further if he can avoid it.

His change of subject is so abrupt and obvious that it’s almost laughable, but you choose not to call him out on it. As much as you’d like to set him on fire or something, he hasn’t given you a really good reason to commit arson yet, and you’d just end up feeling bad for doing it. Well, to be fair, he did kill you… but still, you don’t want to keep holding that over his head.

“I read it in a book.” You answer. Satan’s eyes light up slightly.

“Do you remember the title?” He asks almost eagerly, and you disguise a snicker. His intentions are practically painted in bright red paint across his face - he’s hoping that there’ll be more schemes like the one you’ve performed that he can use against that sadist of an older brother of his.

Unfortunately for him, the book doesn’t exist. “Yeah. It’s called One Hundred Ways To Get Back At The Ass That Killed You, Free Of Murder and Actual Crimes That Might Get You Persecuted And Sent To Super Hell.”

Satan clearly isn’t thinking very hard today, because for a moment he actually looks as if he believes you - you suppose it’s because he’s grown desensitised to the oddness of such long titles after hearing so many weirdly specific anime titles from the otaku brother that you still have yet to see come out of his room. (You’ve floated in a few times to have a look around and appreciate the decor, but other than that, you’ve barely even seen his face. You’re not even sure what his name is, to be honest…)

He realises what you’re getting at after a moment, though, and immediately frowns at you in disapproval. You just grin, pleased with your small victory.

“You're insufferable,” He says, shaking his head with an long sigh.

“No, I'm cute,” You counter, frowning. “Weren't you listening to me earlier?”

He throws his hands up hastily as you drift forward with a hand brandished and a nasty glint in your eye, unwilling to get jabbed at again. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

You, however, don't relent. Eyes narrowing, you float even closer - so close that, if you'd been physical, he’d have been able to feel your breath on his face. “Say it.”

Satan may be one of the seven most powerful demons in the Devildom (below Diavolo, of course, and possibly Barbatos), but the aggression of a pissed-off ghost, especially if that ghost is you, isn't anything he wants to be on the receiving end of right now. “Fine, fine! You're adorable, you're cute, whatever. Now will you leave me alone?”

You finally pull back, beaming in a gratified fashion. “That's all I wanted to hear!”

Satan gives you an irritated look as you drift back across the kitchen, a satisfied grin on your face. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’ve said that already,” You sing back, laughing in victory when you see his eyebrow twitch slightly in annoyance. “And you had the nerve to lecture me about creativity earlier! Why don’t you come up with better material, Mr Shoes-Up-My-Ass?”

He doesn’t reply for a good moment, attempting to think of a insult to counter your admittedly slightly juvenile one. Try as he might, though, all of his good jibes seem to have evaporated. “...shut up.”

His pathetic response, of course, immediately compels you to take the piss out of him. Clutching your chest dramatically, as if Satan’s just stabbed you with the knife you’d been waving about earlier, you wail, “Oh, thy words do wound me! 'Tis like thou hath rip’d my heart out with thy own hands!”

Satan glares you for a long moment, but he doesn’t have the heart to keep it up when you’re grinning so brightly. Honestly, you’re a nuisance and a brat sometimes, sure, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t consider you his closest friend at this point. “...do you even know how to use those words?”

You drop the act faster than Asmo throws it down on a Saturday night, shrugging and floating back over to hover just above the chair across from Satan’s. “Nope. It sounded right, though, right?”

“I haven’t read enough works in Old English to know,” Satan admits with a shake of his head. “But it did, I suppose…”

It’s kind of weird that he’s agreeing so easily, you think. Has he just had enough of your bullshit and is complying with to keep you quiet? Or has he just finally seen the light of your brilliance?

...well, you suppose it doesn’t matter. You grin and move to ruffle his hair, but forget to make your hand physical and instead end up flying right through his head. Satan shudders slightly - though he doesn’t feel it, it’s still weird to have an entire hand and arm go through his cranium.

“Could you not?” He complains as you right yourself and pull your hand back again. “This feels weird.”

“Baby.”

“Pet names aren’t going to do anything,” He sighs, pulling his chair to the side so that he’s no longer half-inside your torso. “Hands to yourself.”

“No, it was an insult,” You correct him. “I was calling you a baby. Though bitch-boy works too.”

Satan lets out a long sigh. Now you’re just back where you started.

[stargazingthenightaway]

See Something You Like? Part 3

Pairing: Rebels Rex x Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: NSFW 18+ Sexual tension, yearning, dirty thoughts, praise kink, size kink, Dom!Rex, slight predator/prey vibes

A/N:  What. The. Fuck! This turned into a monster chapter! Buckle up people things are starting to heat up! Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.  

Those words ring in your ears as you stare at Rex, his gold eyes pinning you in place, grip still gentle on your chin. He’s standing so close that you can feel the heat from his body, ghosting over you skin. You’re surprised that you chest is not touching his already, and it probably would be if you could remember how to breathe. He’d taken it away the moment his thumb started to caress along your jaw, adding trails of heat with each pass, branding your skin with his touch.

You know you can easily break out of his hold, but you don’t know if you’ll be able to have this, have him, all to yourself again, so you keep still, enjoying the sensation of his touch on your face. The calluses on his hand feel warm, made from years spent fighting and honing his skills to perfection. Skills he expertly used to outmaneuver and put you in a place under his power, his control and secretly that idea excites you. Rex is the one calling the shots, and you wonder if that was his intent all along. You break from Rex’s gaze, turning your head to survey the results from the match. 

The targets are at a standstill, waiting for the simulation to be reset for the next person. At the centre of each is a perfectly placed shot, the edges marked with blaster residue and lightly smoking. The wispy tendrils curl into the air, taunting you as a reminder that your meagre shots were no match for Rex’s precision.

Beaten. Destroyed. Absolutely annihilated. 

That’s how you’d describe your side of the outcome of this farce of a challenge. All in the hopes of preventing your wanton thoughts from being spoken aloud. Using an imaginary wager to try and play your emotions off. A false bet now made true. It must have been childs play for Rex to see through your flimsy ruse, and use that to his advantage. Going against someone like Rex, who has years more experience than you, hoping to win? What a fool’s wish. Now, you’re at his mercy.

There’s pressure on your chin as Rex turns your face back towards him, relaxed in his perusal of your form. “Now, what to do with you?” He leans back, placing his hands on his hips and giving you a very slow once over, admiring the view in front of him. There’s a steady beating against your ribs, the same beat that causes Rex’s eyes to linger at the pulse point at your throat, before finally lifting them to your face “So many possibilities.” 

You watch his lips say one thing but hear his voice say another, and it makes you want. Oh, does it make you want, so many things. Things that you would only tell the most depraved part of yourself, before locking it up and throwing away the key. Things that make you toss and turn and cry for release. Things that you want to give to Rex, just so he can call you his good girl. Sadly, those thoughts are only fantasy, no matter how much Rex may flirt with you, or that you may burn for his touch, that’s all your thoughts will be. Fantasy. Bringing yourself back to reality is harder than you’d like it to be, but you do it anyway, shoving the words out of your mouth with a shaky smile on your face.

“We could always narrow those possibilities down to a couple.” You think for a moment before you have an idea. It might not be what you want, but you’ll still get to be near Rex for the foreseeable future. “What about this, I could finish your reports for a certain amount of time or polish your armour.”

Rex tilts his head like he’s contemplating the idea, reaching for his chin. You can hear the slight scratch of his beard as he moves his hand over the whiskers. It sends a delightful shudder through you as you imagine the beard burn he’d leave behind after spending some time between your thighs, a constant reminder of what he’d done every time you go to move. The throb between your legs continues to grow, fully on board with that idea. Curse your weak self-control!

Rex shakes his head and your heart droops. “Heh, while that sounds like a good idea, that’s something I’d give one of the shinies to do. Keep them occupied and out of my way. But you?” He suddenly leans forward, making sure there was no space between the two of you. “I’d rather keep you in my sights.” He shakes his head again, a lazy grin curving on his lips, “no I have something different in mind for you mesh'la.”

Mesmerized, you wait for him to continue, and as the silence grows you realize he’s waiting for you to ask, make you voice the question out loud. Ask him what he wants. With you. 

There’s calm expectancy in his gaze as you finally voice the question you both need to hear to move on from this emotional limbo.

“What do you want?”

Rex is eyeing you like a nexu thats caught its prey as he braces his forearms by your head, caging you in, before leaning his head next to your ear, whispering those words that make your stomach clench with need.

“I want you.”

Any response you had shuts down in surprise. Someone could barge in at this very moment, crying out that the Empire was gone and you wouldn’t care. The world around you ceases to exist, focused only on the man in front of you. Of all the things Rex could ask for, never would you have imagined he’d want you, and to state it so boldly makes your knees weak. I want you. His words echo in your head I want you. I want you. I want YOU. Your mind is in a whirlwind as you try to collect your thoughts, unsure of how to move, if you can move, your body with this revelation. 

As you drift in stunned silence, Rex takes in your appearance and is enchanted by what he sees. From your bright, wide eyes locked on him, to your rosy cheeks that have made a lovely flush down your chest. Stars it’s a sight, and your mouth. Parted in a slight ‘o’ from surprise, your lips are just begging to be kissed. All plush and perfect, tempting Rex to take a nibble, take a taste. He wonders what sounds he can get you to make just for him. Soon. Yes, he very much likes what he sees and wonders just how debauched you’ll look after he’s thoroughly taken you apart, ruined you for anyone else so that he will be the only one who can satisfy your cravings. 

His cock twitches in his pants, thinking of how you hastened to obey his command to get into the shooting position, the ‘sir’ that fell from your lips sending a burning need through his veins to hear you say it again as he spread you wide, licking up your juices. As you were bouncing on his cock, begging him to go faster. Taking you from behind as you wanted more, please sir, more! All these enticing possibilities at his fingertips, and who was he to squander such an opportunity.

Turning his head towards you, he breathes you in, noticing how you shiver beneath him, already reacting to his presence. Rex can see your dazed expression, thoughts somewhere else, and decides he wants your attention back on him where it belongs. 

“Your mind’s straying again mesh’la.” He says, lips lingering by your cheek. “Time to come back to me.”

Instead of a jolt to awareness, your awakening is more like a haze slowly lifting, Rex’s voice leading you back to the present. His voice is like that first cup of caf in the morning, dark, warm and knows how to get you going. His beard tickles your skin as you answer. “It does seem to do that.” You chuckle weakly, “It’s becoming a bad habit.” A bad habit that brings him close enough for you to ride his thigh you think to yourself.

“Hmm, then I’ll just have to be the one to break you of it before it becomes a problem.” One of Rex’s hands move from the wall and finds a new home on you hip, slowly dragging the fabric of your shirt up, exposing the sensitive skin beneath. He doesn’t bother to hide his glee when he hears the quiet squeak you utter, smirk forming on his lips that he knows you can feel. 

“This bad habit of yours only seems to happen when I’m around. Am I really that bad that you’d need to think of something else?”

How could he think that! You blurt out an answer in your haste to reassure him that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. “No! No, it’s not somethi-”

His smirk turns predatory and you realize you’ve walked into a trap. 

“Ah, then someone.” The hand at your hip flexes “Do I make you wish someone else was here? Is that who your minds goes to?”

Rex’s voice deepens to a growl, challenging the idea that there could be someone other than him to have your attention, your affection. He can’t help the possessive feeling that claws at his chest that screams Mine! when he sees you, wanting to place you on his lap for all the base to see that you are his, not some jumped up pilot who can’t tell the difference between their dick and a gear stick. 

He sounds jealous you think to yourself and Maker does that thought get you wet. As if he has anything to worry about. 

Rex continues, his voice causing trembles to ripple through your body, that you know he can feel. “There was that pilot who was talking with you the other day…”

“It’s not him.” You don’t even hesitate to give your answer, wanting to dispel that idea before it ruins anything. 

His hand relaxes, thumbs lazily circling on your skin. The feeling causes your eyes to flutter and lean into him “Then it is someone. Who is it then that has you so enraptured cyare?” 

The growl has turned into a soothing rumble, helping you ease even further into his touch. The patterns Rex has been drawing slowly changing course, moving from your hip up to your waist, making his way up your torso. You keen when his fingers graze the underside of your breast, not going any further, just teasing you with his touch. Back and forth, back and forth. There is no way that he doesn’t know what his touch is doing to you, that your panties are coated in your juices, that you’re ready to just say ‘fuck it’ and drop to your knees to suck his dick. Anything to get him to stop pawing your and do something.

As if he senses your turmoil, Rex turns his head so that he’s facing you, so close that his lips ghost over yours. "Who consumes your thoughts to the point of forgetfulness?”

Maybe it’s your turn to surprise him and turn the tables in your favour. With a lazy smile you place your hands on his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath and look up at him with your best tooka eyes.

“Don’t you know Sir? It’s you.”

You’ve barely finished uttering those words before Rex pushes his body against yours, until there is no space between the two of you. The hand not on your side whips behind your head, gripping your hair and pulling your head back so your neck is bared. Your hands flutter by your sides, unsure of where to put them as you stare wide-eyed up at him

“Say that again” he growls.

You swallow hard and his eyes track your throat’s movement before looking back up. “It’s you.”

He shakes his head “You’re missing something there cyare”

Oh. You grin wickedly, so that’s how it’s going to be. “It’s you, Sir.”

The growl that comes from his chest makes the deepest part of you clench in need, and you want to hear that sound again as he’s over you, fucking you into his bunk. Your hips start to grind up against Rex when he suddenly pins them against the wall with his own, stopping your ministrations. You whine in frustration and he nips your jaw in retaliation. 

“Tell me right now if this is not something you want cyare, and I’ll stop.” 

Why would you want him to stop you think to yourself, when you finally get to have him exactly how you’ve dreamed. You voice your thoughts out loud “I thought our bet was you could do anything to me, anywhere you wanted?” Dread sinks low in your belly, does he not really want this and is using you as an out?

He quickly puts that fear to rest. “Only with your consent. I won’t take anything that is not given freely or willingly. So I’ll ask again, is this something you want?”

A flush warms your chest and it’s not from the arousal Rex inspires in you. This perfect being in front of you would stop everything at once, no matter how excited he may feel,  if you said you were uncomfortable. This is what sets him apart from everyone else. While they may taketaketake without any thought to you, he puts your comfort as his priority, giving you the chance to say no and respect it. 

You want to give Rex everything he deserves, which is why there is no hesitation when you reply. “I want this. I want you.”

Rex looks at you, searching for something that would indicate that you aren’t telling him the truth and finds only honesty. He’s suddenly surging forward, lips devouring yours in a bruising kiss. Stars, you just submit to him, opening your mouth with a whimper so that he can taste you. He savours the feeling of your tongue against his, warm and wet, with the sweet tang of the muja fruit you’d had earlier in the mess hall. He had watched you, unnoticed, taking each juicy bite in contentment, licking away the droplets that clung to your lip. You’d been a vision and he’d had to leave before he snuck in a taste of his own. He didn’t want to scare you off with a meagre kiss in the mess hall before he could claim you properly.

This kiss though, with all the burning touches and wanton looks, all the buildup between the two of you has led to this moment being taken out on your mouth. There’s no finesse, no gentle touch, just pure want. Rex alternates between kissing you senseless and nipping your lips, revelling in the sounds that come out of your mouth.

He uses the grip on your hair to angle your head into a deeper kiss, and it sends a rush of desire through you, knowing that he’s the one controlling your pleasure.

Rex starts kissing down your neck, paying particular attention to a spot just under your jaw and the moan you give him lets him know exactly how much you enjoy it. You’ve grasped his shirt between your hands, needing something to hold on to as he traces your neck with his tongue, while your hips have started grinding up against him, legs spread wide to fit around his hips, but it’s still not enough.

Rex can see you struggle and decides to show you a little mercy. He slots one of his thighs between your legs, barely pressing against your core, looking down at your flushed form. “Come on mesh’la, ride my thigh.” You don’t need another invitation and start rubbing against him, undulating your hips as close as you can. Rex goes back to marking up your throat, nipping the place where your neck and shoulder meet.

While he’s content to let you find the friction you need, you realize something is wrong. Rex had ordered you to ride his thigh, but had kept it just far away that you’d only get a whisper of a touch against your core. You whimper in impatience and try to pull him closer, but he won’t budge. “Rex,” you implore him “in order to ride your thigh I need something to ride!” He bites down on your shoulder and you cry out in surprise.

“Don’t be a brat” he growls

You whine, high and desperate, hoping that Rex will understand what you need and give it to you. You’ve already been so good for him, why can’t he see that.

By the dark chuckle exhaled upon your skin he does, though he doesn’t speed up his ministrations, in fact he slows down. The pleasure you feel starts to trickle away and you feel like crying you’re so frustrated. You’d do anything at this point just to get off. 

“Such a needy girl” he tsks "but doesn’t know how to ask nicely”

Ask. He wants you to ask him to let you cum on his thigh. Ask that he press closer so he can feel how wet he’s made you. The thought makes you dizzy with want. 

“Rex, I need to cum on your thigh.” 

“Still being a brat.” He makes a mock disappointed sound and moves his leg away. Nonono! This is the opposite of what you wanted. He continues before you can object, “Good girls don’t make demands, they ask nicely.”

Force take you now. Your panties are so wet it’s like the oceans of Kamino, you don’t think you’ll be able to salvage them after this. Biting your lip, you can feel how swollen it’s become after Rex’s kisses and you can only image how dark they’ve become, evidence of his desire for you. Your neck is covered with his marks and you wonder where else he could put that talented mouth to use. That thought spurs you on. “Please sir, please let me ride your thigh, I need to cum so bad.” 

He hums, “No.”

You make a sound of distress, “But I asked nicely! Please Sir! Don’t leave me like this!” You sob out, heart clenching. 

The hand that had been tracing patterns on your side reaches up and cradles the side of your face. You nuzzle into his palm, pleas falling from your lips in hopes to sway him, saying how you want to be his good girl, that only he can make you cum, pleasepleaseplease! 

Rex waits until you’ve finished “No, you won’t cum on my thigh. You’re going to cum with my fingers stuffed deep in that pretty pussy of yours.” He kisses you until your whimpering in his arms “Understood?”

Kark it all! Rex was being a kriffing tease and you doubt he’d let up anytime soon

You nod eagerly “Yes! Please Sir! I want to cum on your fingers, please!”

He chuckles, “There’s my good girl” before sliding his hand down the front of your pants. His fingers are thick as they push your panties to the side and slide through your folds, collecting the slick gathered there. He pulls his fingers out and you can see your juices glistening on the first two digits, already dripping down.

“Already so wet for me mesh’la.” Rex says in awe, “and I’ve barely even touched you.” Swiftly he moves his hand back down to your core and before you know it, his first finger is already knuckle deep inside you. Your eyes roll back as you moan and Rex curses. “Kriff cyar’ika, I just slid right in.”

He slowly pulls his finger out before pushing back in, keeping his eyes on your face, looking for any twitch of discomfort, but all you feel is satisfaction. Finally, you’re getting exactly what you need. 

Rex has removed the hand from your hair and braced his arm back on the wall above your head, giving him better leverage to fuck you with his hand. You start to pant as you feel your pleasure building up again, a slow burn that consumes you from the inside out.

When Rex adds a second finger you can feel a delicious burn as he stretches you out, picking up speed as he steadily thrusts his fingers, the room filling up with the mixed sounds of your moans and wet sounds of your arousal. Rex pumps his fingers faster, desperate to hear more “Keep making those beautiful noises cyar’ika! Show me how much you want me!” “I always want you, only you” you whine out, hips rolling with each thrust “I didn’t think that you’d want me.”

Rex drinks in your look of ecstasy, how he’s the one causing you to lose your inhibitions. “I want you, I have for a while. Didn’t think you’d felt the same until we sparred, when I had you under me, seeing those big eyes staring back, full of want.” He twists his fingers and finds that spot that makes you arch your back, pressing your chest against him, hands scrabbling for purchase on his shoulders. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan. “Knew then I’d give you everything I could just to keep those pretty little eyes on me.”

Your eyes snap back to his face, tears starting to blur your vision. Maker, you were so close! If Rex continued talking like he was, you’d be over the edge in no time, you’re already teetering with how close you are.

He continues as if he can’t hear your gasps and moans. “What would’ve happened” he murmurs, “if we hadn’t been interrupted. Would you have let me taste you cyare, spread those pretty legs nice and wide for me? I’m not a small man, it would be a tight fit, but you’d make it work, wouldn’t you?” He rolls his hips so you know exactly how big he is elsewhere, the motion pressing his fingers in deeper. 

“I like that you’re big.” Stars, was that voice yours? 

Rex makes a pleased noise. “What sounds would you have made for me, as I tasted you? Would you have let me fuck you on the mat, where anyone could have walked in? Let everyone hear how easily my cock would slide in, how wet I made you, that I was the only one who could make you feel that good.” He adds a third finger and you howl, uncaring if anyone hears you, too consumed with Rex and how he was playing your body like a fine-tuned blaster.

By now you’ve drenched his hand, all the way down to his wrist, soaking his fingerless gloves. You bet if he took his hand away he’d be dripping onto the floor. The squelching sounds fill the room as Rex thrusts even faster, and he groans low in your ear. There is a moment of gleeful satisfaction that you’re not the only one affected, before a hard thrust sends another gush of slick over his hand. 

He curses again “Kriff, I could take you here right now and you’d let me. Soaking my dick, getting me all nice and wet while I fuck you against the wall.”

By now you’re a babbling mess, the only words you’re able to say are please!, and more!, and yes Sir! The coil in your belly is wound tight, ready to snap. Knees trembling, you clench down hard on his fingers, looking for that last little bit to carry you over the edge. Through the haze you can hear a chirping noise but don’t pay it any attention, too focused on how full you feel, Rex’s fingers filling you up. 

Unfortunately, Rex does pay attention to the chirping noise, as it’s coming from the vambrace on the hand currently three-knuckles deep within you. An in-coming message.

“Just ignore it!” You plead with him, feeling too strung out to think logically.

Rex just shakes his head “You know I can’t do that mesh’la.” He sounds gruff as he answers, so you know he’s as unhappy as you about the interruption.

You burrow your wail of despair against his chest, muffling your sounds so he can answer his com. From the sounds of it, it seems like he’s needed to give an in-person debrief on the latest training session with the new recruits.

Oh all the times for command to call, and it would have to be when Rex is knuckle deep inside you and your orgasm is about to take you to hyperspace. All for an update about the shinies! Can’t they just read his report like everyone else! Kriff! The sound of the com is deafening and Rex pulls himself away, though he does so very slowly.

He starts making himself look presentable, smoothing out his shirt and arranging himself so his hard on is not so noticeable. You stare at him, wide-eyed, and you must be too finger-fucked frustrated because you blurt out “You’re going to leave me here? Without letting me cum?”

“Yes.” He turns a stern look towards you “and you’re not going to touch yourself when you get back to your bunk.”

Your jaw drops in shock and Rex smirks at you “I told you that you’d cum on my fingers, and that’s what I’m going to do after my meeting. So no getting yourself off.” 

You know you’re pouting, but you can’t help it. “And then what? You come back, get me to cum, and then leave? I thought-”

Rex cuts you off “Thought what mesh’la?” 

You look away, feeling embarrassed. “I thought that I was your good girl” you whisper.

A fond look crosses over Rex’s face “Oh cyar’ika, you are my good girl.” He steps closer, causing you to raise your eyes back to his face, “and because you’re my good girl you’re not going to touch yourself until I can take care of you.” He presses his forehead against yours, letting you see the sincerity in his eyes. “ Believe me cyare, once with you will never be enough.”

With that he steps back, keeping eye contact with you. With a mischievous look, Rex brings his hand that is covered in your slick up to his mouth, and sucks on the first two digits. His groan of satisfaction gets your legs trembling and your core clenching all over again.You continue to watch him as he cleans up the evidence of your arousal until nothing remains. Nothing except a damp glove.

When he’s finished he takes his fingers out with a slick pop, a feral smile on his face. His parting words lingering well after he’s gone.

“I’m only just getting started.”

To be continued.

Tag list: @samrubio @justanotherstarwarswhore @bvcketfvcker @grumpymuffinmama @justanothersadperson93 @fat-zygerrian

[cheekygreenty]

In My Head - The Darkling x Reader

Supppeer angsty and kinda sad?

The fire engulfed the golden kefta in a water-like rhythm. The cracks and sparks echoed in the open field amongst the silence that settled around all of you. Alina was exhausted, Zoya was grieving, the Ketterdam criminals looked shaken too. But you were unmoving, as still as a painting and not showing a single emotion. They had all witnessed your heartbreak as it fell and crashed the world around you, breaking every part of you. They watched as realization flooded you that you never truly knew Aleksander. They watched as he tore your heart from your chest and threw it into the depths of the Fold to rot.

Painted a picture,

I thought I knew you well

It was humiliating. Alina had tried to warn you but you played her off as selfish and unwilling to use her powers for the good of all Grisha. You told her she was stupid and foolish for loving an otkazat'sya when in reality you were the fool for loving a man that didn't exist.

You told her she was crazy, that Aleksander would never lie to you and that he was good because you knew him. In truth, you were no better than him. You blindly followed everything he said, completely ignoring the alarm bells in your head. You had grown used to them as weeks went by, to the point of the alarm playing a low comforting tune in your mind all day and all night.

There weren't enough apologies in the world to say sorry for the things you'd done and said to Alina and she'd insisted that no apology was necessary because it wasn't your fault, 'It's not your fault you only see the good things about people' she whispered to you before she left to change. But the good things about him weren't there; they never existed. It was all in your head, a mind so desperate for love it concocted a whole new Aleksander, one which you loved so much and would do anything for.

I got a habit of seeing what isn't there

'We were all fooled Y/N, Don't blame it all on yourself' Despite her grieving and sorrow, Zoya's hand rested on your shoulder briefly as a sign of comfort. Without her, you wouldn't have been here right now, alive and breathing.

'I don't blame myself. I hate myself for being so blind'

'Me too'

I thought that you were the one

But it was all in my head

------

You could feel the nothingness of the Fold threading through your hair even inside Alina's tunnel of safety. You stared at her shackled feet, pushing the guilt away and replacing it with a sense of righteousness. There was nothing else that could be done to keep her in check, if she wanted to escape and hide from her destiny forever then she would do so over your dead body.

The Fold needed to be gone and if chaining her to the skiff was going to be the only way she obeyed then so be it. Your mind quickly spiraled back to her hasty words back in the tent. She was panicked and desperate, clinging to your arm like a wailing child begging to be heard. Her lies were bizarre and abundant, no doubt the works from her long journey to the Stag but they were unbelievable. So extreme even a Fjerdan would laugh at their ridiculousness.

The skiff suddenly stopped, Novokribirsk visible in the distance with lines of First-Army troops standing in neat lines.

'Why have we stopped?' A dignitary asked and you wondered the same thing. You searched the skiff for anyone with an explanation, but everyone looked equally as confused but Alina looked mortified. What is going on?

'One more demonstration. You’ve seen what the Sun Summoner can do' You whipped your head around to him slightly moving away but his arm pulled you back to his side with an edge. You heard the loud jangle of Alina's chains as she tried to move. 'Now bear witness to what I can do… with her power.'

He pushed you to Ivan, who took no time in holding you back by the arms, caging you in his grasp. You resisted on the simple basis that you didn't know why you were being restrained just like Alina but the answer came all too soon. There was no time to shout or gasp as Aleksander raised his own hands and the black shadows of the Fold expanded into Novokribirsk, killing everything in its path.

You stood motionless as the horrible sounds of volcra swarming and humans screaming flooded the air. Alina's words came back to you again but you didn't listen. No, you didn't want to. Zoya seemingly came down from the mainsail and looked at the black void in a hypnosis-like stare but nobody dared say anything. There was a silence on the skiff while hundreds and thousands of lives ceased to exist in a matter of seconds.

The comforting tune in your head had suddenly turned into a blinding screech, rendering you frozen and flabbergasted. He did this, Aleksander did this. How could he do this? You tried to fight the heartrenderer off, squirming desperately in his arms to cover your ears from the slaughtering sounds. Your knees had given out by now and Alina was on the floor of the skiff, struggling to get up due to the heavy and awkward chains. I put them there.

'Today, we redraw all the maps. With the power of the Sun Summoner at my command, I control the Fold.' A sob erupted from your throat right at the minute you realized Alina was right. You didn't listen, this is all my fault. Ivan pulled you back up, roughly smacking a hand over your mouth to stop your pathetic cried of betrayal. You fought a little harder, trashing around in hopes of escaping his hold or at least getting someone's attention but nobody seemed to care. They all feared for their lives.

'All countries will answer to us. For who would oppose us now?' He briefly shot a look in your direction but spared you no emotion. It was then that you saw the real Aleksander, blood-thirsty for power and revenge. The Black Heretic.

Everything you are made you

Everything you aren't

The next five minutes were a complete blur. You somehow found yourself fighting for your life and those around you. Your head was empty of its usual whirling thoughts as survival mode kicked in. Kill or be killed. You stopped counting how many hits you got or how many bruises were forming on your body. It was primal and in your Grisha nature to protect those around you, and in that haste of battle you made your allegiance to Alina obvious.

There was no time to think about Aleksander. You weren't quite sure you wanted to think about him. He was on this skiff with you, on the opposing side that just murdered a town full of people yet the part of your brain, your imagination, craved to be by his side. To please him by obeying, to get his touch in return. You were addicted to the man who had ruined your innocence.

'You betrayed me' His voice was right behind you as was his hand, creeping up the side of your throat and forcefully pushing you against the barrier of the skiff, ready to throw you over to the unlit Fold.

'I betrayed you?!' Your shout was loud and hearty, overflowing with sadness and shame at being relieved for being next to him again. You clawed at his tightening hand, feeling your airways restrict and your vision become fainter and fainter. You would die at the hands of the man you loved.

'Look what you made me do Y/N, do you think I want to kill you?' Your head bopped but your stupid heart grasped at the sadness in his words, he still loves me. 'I don't want to. I really don't'

'Then don't' you chocked out, your hold on his wrists becoming limp. You felt the ever-so familiar touch of his lips grace your temple and then he retreated.

The world went dark but your body hit the deck of the skiff, not the soft sands of the Fold and your lungs abruptly filled with forced Squaller air.

Yes, I did it to myself, yeah

Thought you were somebody else

'What are you going to do now?' You still sat by the fire while everyone stood. Zoya had left your side and was talking with Alina but you filtered out the noise. Your head was too full of your own self-hatred to stand any more voices so Jesper's question to you went unnoticed. 'Y/N?'

You looked at him and shrugged. You didn't want to move, your body still ached too much from being dragged away from the brink of death to make your way somewhere safe.

You would never admit it around anyone, but as Alina spoke of the Darkling being dead, a wave of grief washed over you. It was cold and unpleasant; unwelcome. But you knew love didn't disappear overnight. You didn't know who saved you on the skiff, whether it was he who had let you go, or was it Zoya who battled to have you freed from his grasp.

As much as you had created the Aleksander you viewed, the foundations were all him, you had only added on or omitted the parts you did and didn't like. You prayed it was him who spared you, you prayed there was something real about your Aleksander, that that was a foundation.

The tears that fell down your face in a stream were assumed to be for the betrayal and the horridness of what the Darkling had done to you and others, when if fact they were for him. You cried because you would never see him again, you cried because the people who had helped you get out of the Fold were the same people who had killed him.

-------

When Mal caught your deathly stare in his direction, he had to do a double-take. You had the same look in your eyes as the General did when he fought him in the Fold, that exact replica of coldness and rage; revenge. But surely he was wrong. You were happy to know the Heretic was dead. He betrayed you the most out of everyone here and almost killed you. Why would you be vengeful?

He waved it off with a shake, it's all in my head.

------

Masterlist

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[dragonsareourfuture]

I Don’t Belong Here — L Lawliet/GN! Reader

Summary: What kind of a story begins with the main character dying? Well, this one. L Lawliet has lived out his days on earth and finds himself in the afterlife. The Good Place, he is told by a neighborhood architect named (Name). One who shows him around his own neighborhood and introduces him to new people. But something doesn’t add up, L notices. Does he really belong in the Good Place?

(I'd advise having knowledge on the TV show "The Good Place" if you wish to understand the majority of this clusterfuck. Although, if you wish to proceed regardless, go right ahead!)

Chapter One: L Lawliet, You Are Dead.

<>

Weclome! Everything Is Fine.

Everything is fine? Is that so?

The last thing L remembers is the ceiling. Just…the ceiling. The fans twirling on the ceiling of the headquarter building and the cross hatching of the tiles. It was peaceful. Was he sleeping? If he had been sleeping, then how did he end up here?

Now, instead of the ceiling, he stares at a wall. Big, green letters stare back at him. “Welcome! Everything Is Fine,” they say. Something inside L is prickling, like something he is forgetting struggling to find its way to his brain. He wants to ponder it, but something about the words splayed out on the wall in front of him is telling him that he doesn’t have to. Everything is fine, after all.

He only manages to tear his eyes away from the bold, sans serif font when the sound of a doorknob turning catches his attention. Huh. Has there always been a door there? If so he hadn’t noticed it, which L thinks is completely absurd as he usually takes mental notes of everything in a room before getting himself seated. But there it is, a door he missed while transfixed on the somehow calming message on the wall, now opening to reveal...a person.

You stand in the doorway, simply smiling.

Now that L’s attention has been drawn away from the mystifying message he can properly analyze his surroundings, and his new visitor. He’s in a rather simple room, nothing but a few plants dotting the perimeter and a couch in the middle, which he is currently sitting on. And he’s sitting normally. Hm. That feels…itchy. L inches a foot onto the couch in his discomfort of sitting with his bottom planted firmly on the cushions with both feet on the ground. Though he hesitates to bring both feet up and hug his knees to his chin as he normally would, because he senses that your sudden presence means he is about to be standing and following you into that mysterious room behind you. Like a doctor calling a patient into an appointment. Except in this case L has no idea what you are, and judging by your suit and comical, colorful bowtie, you are certainly not a doctor.

“L?” you ask, showing your teeth in a kind smile. “Come on in.”

And against his better judgement, he does. L was never the person to simply keep quiet and obey orders in a situation he does not understand. And there certainly is not a whole lot of understanding happening in his brain right now. He should be asking questions. He should be refusing you. He doesn’t know you, you could be leading him to his doom. All this is possible but something about the way you smile at him…like those big, green words, all he reads from you is “Everything Is Fine.”

The room that you lead him into doesn’t look all that much like a death trap, but you can never be sure. It’s a simple office, plants similar to the ones in the waiting room sit in pots in the corners and on the windowsill. The sun shines outside, seeping through the glass and illuminating the desk on the left as you walk in. On it are a few little trinkets, paperweights, and, right in the middle, a manila file folder.

You circle around the desk and settle yourself into the rollaway chair, gesturing to the sleek armchair across from you. “Why don’t you have a seat, hm?”

What is wrong with him right now? You ask him to do something and he just…does? What happened to his spine, other than it bending exponentially thanks to the way he sits?

No matter, there are more important things to think about right now. Like the fact that he might finally be getting some answers.

You open the file in front of you and skim whatever’s written, opening your mouth to say something when your eyes meet his. And then they drift down to his legs. You stare at him curiously with your mouth still agape for a few moments at how his knees are pulled up to his chin, eventually shaking your head and getting back on track.

“My name is (Name), and of course I already know yours.” you say, folding your hands in front of you. “So, how are you, L?”

How should L even answer that?

“I’m…confused, mostly. How are you?”

Your eyes light up, as if you haven’t been asked that in a while. “Oh, well I’m fine. Y’know, busy, but fine! And, yes, I’d assume you’d be confused, everyone in your situation usually is.”

“My situation? What exactly do you mean by that?” Now that L has finally asked one question he can’t seem to stop the ball from rolling “Speaking of you, who are you exactly? Actually, never mind who, but where—“

You hold up a hand. “All of your questions will be answered, I promise. There’s just one thing that you need to know before we tackle any of that.”

“And what is that?”

Your eyebrows lift slightly, elbows digging into the surface of your desk as you lean forward. You look like you’re about to tell him that he’s fired. That his dog died. That some kid took the last of the strawberry shortcake and he’s going to have to settle for carrot cake. What comes out of your mouth is much worse.

“L Lawliet, you are dead.”

…

He’s…?

Yes. Yes, he is. That’s why he doesn’t remember how he got here.

He’s dead. Huh.

L is perfectly content in not saying anything about this new little factoid, but you’re looking at him expectantly, and a little cautiously. Like you either expect him to punch you or burst into tears. L wonders if that fear is based on experience. How many other people have to told this to?

“…Am I, now? That’s a shame.”

You breathe out a sigh, which could be from relief. “Yes, it is. But, not to worry! Because you’ve ended up in the Good Place, L. You’re going to be okay.”

“So it’s called the Good Place?” L brings his thumb to his lips. “A rather simple thing to call it.”

You nod. “Pretty self-explanatory, right? We didn’t want anyone to get confused. There are just so many names for it on earth. Heaven, Valhalla, Nirvana…But it all translates to one place. Here. And you get to be a part of it.”

“That sounds…” Before he can articulate his thoughts, a dilemma from earlier brings itself to the forefront of L’s mind. “Wrong.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My memories are all wrong. Before this, all I can remember is the ceiling and nothing else. If I were to have died, surely I would remember it, yes?”

You take a gulp of air and pull the manila file closer to you. “We take it upon ourselves to erase the memories of death if they are particularly traumatizing or embarrassing. Helps the residents adapt into a peaceful afterlife better, I’m sure you understand.”

“Yes, that is perfectly sensible. Although I may ask, what is an example of a death that is not at all traumatizing?”

“Pfft, there hardly is one. You’d be surprised how many memories we have to erase.”

“On the contrary, I am hardly surprised. I’m sure there are plenty of people who cannot accept the nature of their death, let alone the fact that they have died in the first place.”

You sigh, “You’re tellin’ me. Most people come around once I tell them that they’re basically in paradise, but some won’t even listen to me once I break the news. One person tried to convince me I was the dead one! It’s just—oh, um, but that’s hardly the point.”

“Do you ever tell someone how they died if they ask?”

Your expression hardens. “I do, but I like to know that they’re certain before I tell them.”

“I am.”

Exhaling through your nose, you prop the manila folder up like a book, scanning the files inside. “Alright then. Let’s see here…ah, okay. So, unfortunately this one’s pretty traumatizing, it’s not really one of those embarrassing deaths that some people get a kick out of, so brace yourself.” You look over the top of the folder as if checking to see if he’s braced himself. His expression and stance is unwavering, large eyes merely staring back at you patiently. “You were betrayed by your colleague Yagami Light – also known as your adversary Kira – and killed by the Shinigami Rem at his request.”

Oh yeah. That.

The ceiling was not clear in view, no, there was something obstructing L’s view of it. A face, staring down at him as his heart gave out right on the floor. Brown eyes filled with such cocky maliciousness, the upward tilt of lips L only knew to spout lies. It all equated to a side of Yagami Light that L knew existed but had never seen up until his final moments. It all added up to one final conclusion -- Yagami Light was Kira all along. L had been right. But the price of knowing that for certain is that, now, there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I’m..I’m sorry. I never know what to do when I have to tell people…” you try, reaching across the table and planting a hand down in front of him. Not asking to hold his hand, not even expecting a reaction. Just showing that you’re there, and that you’re trying.

“It’s up to them now. I’ve done all that I could. I trust my successors.”

“In catching the murderer Kira, right?” you ask, to which L confirms with a polite utterance of ‘yes’. Obviously you know the answer. “I understand that is one of the many, many cases you’ve worked on during your lifetime.” you scan your eyes quickly down what appears to be a long list in your folder. Do you have every detail of his life in those files? Every case he ever took? Hell, every day in his life? You set the file down flat in front of you and look at him with something L determines is admiration. “You’ve done so much good in your lifetime, L. You’ve worked so hard over the entirety of your life to make sure you left the world a little better than you found it. Now…well, now you can rest.”

You can relax, you tell him. And it seems to simple coming out of your mouth yet somehow it still feels out of reach.

“I can…” Is all L manages to say, his preoccupation coming across as dreamy and wistful. His mind is busy running a mile a minute and his mouth just can’t keep up. L decides to test the words out on his own tongue to see if they still sound foreign, “I can rest now.”

Yeah, no, it still sounds like bullshit.

“Yes! Well, after the tour, of course.”

“Tour?”

You start to stand, straightening your colorful bowtie and circling around your desk to the door which you pull open. You don’t exit right away, though. You stand next to the exit, waiting for L to follow you. While he works on untangling himself from his current position you clarify, “A tour of the neighborhood! Where you’ll spend your afterlife.”

[stufftippywrote]

infinities within infinities

"Don't get me wrong," Xie Lian says, "I'm really grateful for the donation, but I don't think it's right to name the library after me."

But the man in the three-piece suit seems insistent. "You're a groundbreaking force in the world of philosophy," he says ardently. "I've read your Man, Thrice Ascended at least ten times. What you have to say about the concept of self as the infinite is revolutionary." He grins. The leather of the eyepatch over his right eye gleams in the sunlight. "The least you deserve is to have libraries named after you."

Xie Lian looks him over. This Hua Cheng is known as a reclusive billionaire, but there’s nothing withdrawn about him now, as he surveys Xie Lian with a bright eye. Instead, he’s almost preternaturally relaxed, hands in his pockets, smiling as bright as if he’d captured the sun. Despite the money and the insistent words, there’s nothing intimidating about him.. Xie Lian rather likes him.

“Well, thank you, I suppose, Mr. Hua,” he says carefully. He still isn’t sure about the Xie Philosophy Library concept. He looks up at the building and tries to imagine his name on the placard; it just seems preposterous. The dreams of a very young graduate student who thought he could change the whole nature of philosophy. Now, a fool’s wish. That it would be granted so suddenly, and by the young man in front of him who can’t be out of his twenties? Unimaginable.

“No need to thank me,” Hua Cheng says, shaking his head. “The very least I could do. Do you need a ride anywhere, Professor?”

**

Hua Cheng’s car might as well be a spaceship for how much it sticks out among the dumpy minivans and compact cars that surround it in the parking lot. Black, sleek, and gleaming, it truly seems to have beamed here from some point in a glittering future. Hua Cheng unlocks it with the touch of a button, and then, with another, the passenger side door swings open of its own volition. Xie Lian peeks inside. The interior is black as well, but for some touches that stand out in burning crimson.

“Go on, Professor.” Hua Cheng is leaning on his side of the car, casting a sideways glance at him. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Xie Lian obeys, ducking his head to get in. “You really needn’t call me Professor,” he says as Hua Cheng joins him on the driver’s side.

“What should I call you, then?” Hua Cheng’s smile is devastatingly brilliant, and Xie Lian is glad he’s sitting, because his knees have just gone to jelly. “I could call you gege, if it’s not too informal.”

He’s teasing -- at least, Xie Lian thinks he’s teasing -- but honestly the word comes out of his mouth more naturally than professor, and Xie Lian likes the sound of it better. “Gege is fine,” he says lightly.

“But in return,” Hua Cheng says, starting up the car, “you have to call me San Lang.”

“Why?” There’s something buzzing in Xie Lian’s brain now about the concept of naming, what we call ourselves versus what others call us, but he shunts it aside.

“Why do you think?” The car pulls out of its space, and a low rumble echoes in Xie Lian’s gut as it starts to navigate the parking lot. Hua Cheng is glancing at him between peeks in the rearview mirror. “You know what they say about us billionaires, we’re eccentric. Humor me.”

“Very well, San Lang,” Xie Lian replies, and he likes the sound of that, too.

It’s ten minutes of buzzing around the downtown streets before Xie Lian realizes he never gave a destination. “San Lang,” he says carefully, “where are we going?”

“Here and there,” Hua Cheng says. “I want to pick your brain about Man, Thrice Ascended.”

“Oh.” Xie Lian is flattered, and honestly the concept of riding around aimlessly in this sleek machine appeals to him. “Go right ahead, then.”

“To tell you the truth,” Hua Cheng says, “I have trouble wrapping my head around the concept of the self as infinite. Unless you believe in a higher power, the concept of self seems painfully finite to me, as it only exists between birth and death. Isn’t that a pretty limited span?”

“Only temporally,” Xie Lian replies. “Did you know that there are 22 million seconds in the average lifetime?”

“22 million is a lot, but it’s not infinity,” Hua Cheng counters.

“Ah, but a second isn’t instantaneous. Seconds take time. If you’ve ever tried to hold a plank for more than a minute, you know that well.” And he really does look like the type who could hold it. If not for two. “The unit of time I’d rather use is the moment.”

Hua Cheng glances at him. The car pulls onto the highway. “The moment?” he asks, gently spurring Xie Lian forward.

“Exactly,” Xie Lian says. “The moment is instantaneous. Maybe there are hundreds of millions of moments in the span of a single second of time. Maybe more than that. We can conceptualize, then, that each second of a lifetime contains within it infinite moments, and each lifetime 22 million infinities.”

“But a moment is hardly an appreciable measure of time,” Hua Cheng says. “How many moments can we experience as moments with our limited consciousness? The moments experienced are still finite to the mind of the human who tries to count them. Even if you count as fast as you can, you can’t count to 100 within the space of a single second, much less infinity.”

“You’re asking good questions,” Xie Lian comments.

Hua Cheng glows a little. “I told you, I’ve read the book a thousand times.”

“Well, if you did read the book, then you know that our concept of moments here is merely a framework.” They’re driving along the coast now, the bay blue and the sun starting its daily fizzle from yellow to red. “The infinities that truly populate the self are not of time, but of possibility.”

“Infinite choice in each moment.” Hua Cheng nods. “Explain it to me one more time, please, won’t you, gege?”

There’s a little plaintive moan in his voice - just a sliver of an entreaty - and it gives Xie Lian the goosebumps. Here is someone who’s truly appreciating his work, and he’s pleasant to look at and his voice is pleasant to the ear, and Xie Lian is reeling with how much good sensation is rolling into him with every second of this drive. It’s like the best of good dreams, and he doesn’t want to think of it ending.

“In any moment -- and I do mean moment, with our earlier definition,” he says, “I could lean to the left. I could lean to the right. I could blink. I could lean to the left but just a little bit harder. I could think of the color red. I could think of the color blue. I could speak. I could stay silent. I could open the door and throw myself out of this car, if I wanted.”

“Please don’t,” Hua Cheng interjects, sounding a little unnerved.

“It’s just a possibility,” Xie Lian reminds him. “There are, essentially, an infinite number of things I could do with each moment of my life. Each of them takes some time, but the process of choosing is instantaneous. So you have infinite possibilities in every single moment of infinite moments.”

“Not infinite possibilities," counters Hua Cheng. "What you decide to do in one moment, as you said, takes time. The time it takes to perform that action necessarily negates the infinite nature of the next moment. You can’t make certain decisions while performing other actions.”

“Your possibilities are still infinite in each moment,” Xie Lian argues. “Just because some actions can’t be taken doesn’t mean there aren’t still infinite possibilities open to you. Think of numbers. An infinite number of numbers end in the digit 4. It’s still an infinite set, even though numbers that end in the digit 5 aren’t included.”

Hua Cheng frowns. “Perhaps my limited mind isn’t fully able to capture it,” he says after a time. “You’re very impressive, gege.”

Heat blooms in Xie Lian’s cheeks. “Thus,” he says, “we have the three ascensions. When the mind is able to grasp the concept of infinity within limited time, it ascends once. The second ascension comes when one accepts that infinite actions can be performed within that limited time. And the third ascension…”

“...is when the mind grasps that the possibilities are infinite for each of an infinite number of moments,” Hua Cheng fills in. “Infinities within infinities, all within the self.”

They’ve pulled off to a scenic outlook point on the bay. Hua Cheng eases the car into one of three parking spots and turns off the engine. He turns to Xie Lian. “Gege always explains it so well,” he says brightly. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Xie Lian can feel the flush creeping into his cheeks. He looks away. “You’re welcome.”

Another beep, and the car’s doors are opening again. Hua Cheng gets up, rounds the car to Xie Lian’s side, and holds out his hand.

They stand for a time side by side, watching the reddening sun dip its toes into the rippling water of the bay. There’s a strange peace to standing here, Xie Lian thinks, with this person he barely knows but is so ardent about his work. I’m safe. I’m appreciated. The sureness of that is unexpected but so, so welcome. Xie Lian thinks back, trying to remember the last time he felt that way. He can’t recall.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs. Cars thunder past on the road behind them.

“This is one of my favorite spots,” Hua Cheng says. “I’m always taken by the vastness of the ocean here. It seems so full.” He gestures down to where the water buffets the base of the cliffs below them. “Like it’s a moment from overflowing.”

Xie Lian ponders this. “I’ve never thought of the ocean as full or not,” he says. “The implication being that no more water can be added; that it’s complete as is, existing within its bounds.”

“It’s a philosophical puzzle, isn’t it?” says Hua Cheng lightly. “Of course, climate change is solving it as we speak. Rising sea levels and all. It seems the ocean has the potential to be boundless, even as we denote lines between sea and shore.”

“And the question then becomes, how accurately can we draw those lines? And is it human folly to even attempt to do so?”

“Of course,” Hua Cheng says, “none of these problems has practical application.”

Xie Lian laughs. “Most of philosophy has no practical application. That’s why it’s philosophy.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Hua Cheng replies. “Your philosophy has had effects on my psychology, at the very least. To think of myself as infinite has changed the way I look at the world.”

“And how does it look?” Xie Lian inquires, tilting his head.

Hua Cheng gazes at him, then turns back to face the sea. “Boundless,” he says.

Xie Lian nods. The wind whips past them, whispering coldly against his cheeks and ears. He shudders.

Without a word, Hua Cheng removes his long coat and drapes it over Xie Lian’s shoulders. The coat is warm with his body heat, and all that heat seeps into Xie Lian in a rush. He draws in a breath. When Hua Cheng’s fingers touch his neck to adjust the collar, he wants to shiver again, this time not from the cold.

“Gege.” Hua Cheng’s honey-rich, low voice touches his ear like the strains of a cello. “Would you let me take you someplace nice?”

Xie Lian looks out at the darkening bay. He thinks of the view from his office window, the wall of an adjoining brick building. He could go back there, write and read until the early morning hours. Perhaps he would sleep on the cot he’s laid out in there. Staring at the mottled ceiling, contemplating eternity.

Or he could go with Hua Cheng, who is holding out his hand, looking hopeful.

Xie Lian takes it.

They drive for another 10 minutes along the coast, then take an exit into an area filled with green fields. Huge houses dot the landscape -- this is the domain of the super-rich, Xie Lian thinks, because these fields aren’t used for farming. They’re simply green as far as the eye can see, well-manicured, sometimes interrupted by copses of grand old trees with outstretched branches. Some of the houses are surrounded by lush flower gardens. It’s not an area Xie Lian’s ever been too, nor does it seem like the kind of place he would want to live. But it’s fascinating just to see it for the first time.

Hua Cheng pulls down a narrow road, then turns onto another. Xie Lian squints as he makes out something odd on the horizon. Whatever it is, it’s silver, and a cluster of buildings sit low and flat around it. When wide concrete paths start to interrupt the endless greenery, he realizes what he’s looking at.

“I thought,” he says gingerly, “when you said someplace nice, you meant a fancy restaurant.”

“We can go to a restaurant,” Hua Cheng answers airily. He pulls the car into the yard, and they park. Holding Xie Lian’s fingers loosely, he leads him along the paths toward the airfield. The private jet sits on the runway like a horse at the gate, already humming. A movable staircase leads up to the main entrance. A number of people are working around it. One of them sees the pair approaching and offers Hua Cheng a bow.

“How soon can we be ready?” Hua Cheng asks him.

“Twenty minutes,” the man says. “We’ve been prepping since we got your text.”

Xie Lian wonders when Hua Cheng had managed to text them. “This is your plane?” A silly question; Hua Cheng nods easily, as though everyone has a private airfield with a jet ready to go at any moment. “Where are you taking me?”

Hua Cheng meets his gaze with a smile. “Where would you like to go? Tokyo? Hong Kong? Thailand is stunning this time of year.”

“San Lang,” Xie Lian starts, his heart pounding. Hua Cheng smiles that much more widely at the sound of the name. “Isn’t this a little…”

“Much?” Hua Cheng finishes for him. “Not at all. Not for gege.” He lays a hand on the small of Xie Lian’s back -- Xie Lian gasps at the touch -- and ushers him forward until they are both standing at the bottom of that staircase, the airplane’s door a wide unblinking eye at the top. Hua Cheng bows and makes a gesture with his hand toward the staircase -- after you.

Xie Lian’s brain rockets into high gear. He has brought nothing with him but his briefcase, and even that is still in the car. No one knows where he is or where he’s going. He’s traveled a little in life -- nothing too far from home -- but this would be a trip like no other, totally unplanned and utterly irresponsible. Every ounce of common sense in his brain is urging him to shake his head politely and back away.

But this man. This fascinating man, who is offering him the world. For every voice inside Xie Lian that says no, there’s a current of pulsing blood in his veins whispering yes, yes.

“I’m not sure,” he begins, tentatively.

“Gege,” Hua Cheng murmurs, “You speak of self as containing an infinity of possibilities for every moment of life. But the paradox of infinity is that some infinities are larger than others. At this moment, you have more possibilities than ever before. Given those infinite possibilities, at this moment, what will you choose?”

He’s right. The possibilities facing him right now are truly endless. And hidden in Hua Cheng’s words, there is a challenge -- do you dare? And Xie Lian finds, to his surprise, that he does. He not only dares, he wants. To see this through, to learn more about this man, to take a crazy chance. His heart is pounding with the force of his desire. And once, just once in his studious, conservative life, he listens to it.

He smiles at Hua Cheng, lifts one hand to the railing of the staircase, and begins to ascend.

[jay-and-dean]

Stolen Crown  Chapter 1 : Under the hood

By @roonyxx​ and @jay-and-dean​

Pairings : Dean x reader ? Kight!Dean x reader ?

Summary :  What happens when she is sent in a world that isn’t hers, but with very familiar faces ?

This, as much as it looks like it, is not ‘technically’ an AU, because your Dean, our Dean, exists too...

Serie Warnings : Smut (please be 18+), Fluff, Angst, Swearing. Mention of physical pain. Each Chapter will have detailled warnings.

Chapter warnings : Swearing for now.

Chapter Wordcound : 3230

Note : This is a collaboration beetween both of us. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like for Firefly.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Text divider by the awesome @talesmaniac89​

Want to read more:

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

Whistling. 

Only a shrill whistling in her ears, and her heart pounding hard in her temples…

She holds her head and tries to get up, but the ground seems unsure of where it is supposed to be.

“Dean ?” she tries with a weak voice but, even with the high-pitched sound fading quickly, she can’t hear any answer. “Dean !”

She opens her eyes and they widen right away.

The seedy warehouse is gone, the smell of gasoline and the night are too… But above all, he is gone. Dean is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead : A sunny beautiful forest. Shiny rays of lights come through the radiant, high trees and birds are signing. So many birds.

“Shit” she grunts, looking around. “DEAN ! SAMMY !”

But her voice echoes and dies in the woods, only making a few rodents run through the bushes, themselves moving some butterflies and bees. Nothing else. 

Where was she sent ? Is it witchcraft or some stupid God ? She had told them that this case seemed more complicated than what they said ! And here she is, probably miles from home.

“Please, tell me I’m still in the United states” she whimpers, taking her phone from her jeans shorts pocket. “No come on ! No signal now ?”

After pacing around to try and find any sign of signal, she gives up and puts the useless phone back in her pocket, regretting her morning choice to wear only a t-shirt and shorts, because if she has to walk miles to find a road, the night might be here before she finds her friends again, and nights are colder out there.

“DEAN ! DEAN !” she tries again.

But he is obviously not with her.

What if he had been sent far too ? What if he was in an indian market now ? Or in a boat on the australian seas ? 

“Sammy you have to find us” she mutters, looking around to gather clues.

This forest is not tropical or northern, it’s a temperate one, and it’s obviously still early summer…

Suddenly, hooves disturb the forest’s calm in the distance, rapidly approaching her. The metal clattering with every step the big animal -probably a horse- takes, says it’s not alone…

She quickly moves in the bushes and stills behind a large tree to hide herself from whoever is coming. 

“Your highness ?” a deep, oddly familiar, voice calls.

Her back flat against the tree, she turns her head a little to be able to see beyond the thick bark, holding her breath and reaching for the knife in her boot. 

A beautiful, massive shiny black horse is nervously stepping on the ground while the owner of the mare pats it on the neck.

“Easy girl” the man says. 

She frowns, keeping the dagger in her hand, ‘that voice… I know it.’ When she dares to look between the leaves, her eyes widen.

“Dean?” she says with a confused smile, putting the knife back in her boot, as she steps from out of the bushes.

“My Queen !” he throws his leg over the majestic black horse and steps off, right away going down on one knee in front of her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “I have been looking for you, my Queen” he says towards the ground, not looking up to her once.

“Queen ?” she huffs, still a little dizzy. “Where the Hell are we, Dean ? And what the fuck are you wearing, is that... a freaking armor?” she asks, pointing at his weird clothes.

Dean finally tilts his head upwards. And when he sees her, his eyes nearly fall out of his head, his mouth is open but no words leave his lips. The more he stares at her like she was naked, the more she starts to feel a little self conscious.

His eyes slowly travel up her bare legs, a confused expression on his face, when she bends a little to make eye contact with him he quickly adverts his gaze.

“Your Majesty, what happened to your robes ? Are you harmed ?” he asks, obviously worried. 

“Cut the crap, Dean, what’s happening ? Where are we ?” she asks, annoyed.

“We are in the…” he looks around a little, apparently wondering what to answer. “In the woods… Not far from the Castle, my Queen” he says.

She stares at him, mouth agape, a deep feeling of confusion replacing the annoyance totally. Her tone changes to something colder, more distant.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘queen’ ?” she asks. “And what’s up with the stupid clothes ?”

He dares looking up at her again, a sorry frown on his face. 

“My apologies, your Highness. I do not understand… Is there something wrong with my apparel ?” he stands up, his eyes searching her face. “Did you hit your head or have you fallen maybe ? You disappeared, my Queen. I have been so worried” he turns to his horse to retrieve a big grey fur cloak. “What happened to your gown, did someone attack you ?” 

His head low, he comes closer to carefully drape the very heavy cape around her shoulders.

“I obviously failed at my duty” his eyes are dark and she clearly recognizes that crushing guilt on his features

She touches the floor length fur coat he put around her with a frown. It’s pleasantly warm outside, there is no need for this... 

Everything he does is weird, and why does he look so different ? Was he hit by a spell of some weird stuff like that time he was losing his memory ? 

Unless… 

She takes in his appearance. He looks exactly like him but he has more scruff, and his hair is a little longer, his clothes are very strange too. 

The closer she looks, through the fading cloud in her mind, the more this costume he is wearing really doesn’t look like one. All the layers of leather and metal make him look like he was ready for war, and his shoulders are even more broad under the armor he is wearing. 

Everything about him seems heavy and powerful : Between the metal on his chest, the big belt holding several weapons, including the scabbard of that seems to hold a very authentic sword, the real huge grey fur around his shoulder, like he had killed a wolf…

She shivers at how impressive he looks, at how she realizes she doesn’t know anything about him..

“Shit…” she mutters realizing this is not her Dean at all. 

This is not the United states of America, and this is probably not even her world… But if the Dean from around here is willing to protect her, that might be her best chance of survival.

She clears her throat, nodding to encourage herself to play along.

“No... I’m…” she suddenly has no idea how to use her voice. “I’m okay and I am your queen, because you are my…?” she leaves the sentence open, hoping he’ll answer it.

“Your knight” he says, uncertain.

Knight, right… She nods and looks around once more.

If this is some kind of fucked up middle age alternate universe, there is a big chance that the forest is going for miles and miles, and an even bigger chance that she starves to death before Sammy finds a way to bring her back to the Instagram century. And dressed like that, she might have to fear more than wolves…

She stares at him for a minute and he seems to be just waiting for orders, his green eyes on the floor.

“Kneel” she says with a corner smile and he just does, with no question, comment or delay.

Dean Winchester obeying her to the letter… If that is not a good side of this whole crap !

“You can get up” she chuckles, letting him stand on his feet again.

But her amusement quickly fades. 

Royalty is not really the easiest undercover, and the discretion will be impossible. She wants to ask for help but, even if her whole body and soul tell her she can trust Dean -for it is still Dean-, her eyes travel the thick leather covering his forearms and she remembers she doesn’t know him.

So maybe she better stay silent for now, and follow his lead until she decides if he is an ally.

“Your Majesty” he speaks, with a deference she never heard from him. “If the news of your disparition comes to the Council, there undoubtedly will be trouble. We should head back now. Please.”

“Y-yes” she nods, a lump growing in her throat.

Council ? Trouble ? Castle ? How is she supposed to deal with all that ? People close to the queen will know she isn’t her in a minute…

The knight offers his hand, and she follows, frowning when he joins his wrists to help her get on the horse. 

“This is not the best comfort for travel, your Majesty, for that I am sorry” he apologizes again.

“It’s okay Dean” at her words, he frowns again, but she puts her feet on his wrists and jumps on the tall horse, quickly understanding, by the look on his face, that she is not supposed to ride “like a man”.

Her eyes can’t decide where to look, and her hands can’t decide where to hold him.

Gripping his belt tight in this uncomfortable position, she takes in the unbelievable landscapes before her : Untouched forests and large lakes, small villages down in the valley, with all those wood houses that remember her of Braveheart. 

All she can think of is when she is going to tell the boys about everything she saw… If she ever goes back to them.

“Put on your hood, my Queen” the knight asks, so she does. 

Her unsure hands grasp the heavy hood of the animal fur around her and she hides her face in the huge hood. He probably needs her to not be recognized.

“What animal is it ?” she asks, touching the hair with a mix of curiosity and disgust.

“Animal, your Majesty ?”

“The hood ?” she asks, quickly grasping his belt again when the horse half jumps above a root.

“My coat is made of a bear” he answers. 

“Poor animal…”

He lets a silence and clears his throat slightly. 

“I had never thought of it that way, my Queen. Your empathy for the creatures of this world is godly.”

But she stopped listening.

Her breath stuck in her lungs, she discovers the huge, beautiful castle coming in her sight. 

A gigantic wall surrounds a little city, itself surrounding a huge, elegant castle. The light stone walls seem to be touching the clouds from here, and a vibrant living noise comes from it.

“Wow” she murmurs, looking up the thin sharp towers surrounded by birds.

“My breath gets cut short each time I see your home in sight too, your Highness” he says with a soft voice. 

Inside the walls of the city, everything is different. 

People are busy, all dressed like they came from a movie, carrying vegetables and raw pieces of meat, sheeps and baskets of fabric… Each and everyone turning their head at the sound of the huge horse’s steps on the stone pavements. 

“Sir Winchester !” a kid exclaims.

She keeps her hood low, suddenly very aware of the trouble that could come from the crowd recognizing their queen. 

The knight version of Dean stays unfazed, guiding them to the stables where several horsemen are waiting for him. 

He gets off of the horse, helping her and closing his coat neatly on her.

“Keep your head down” he murmurs next to the hood and she just nods, determined to let him guide her. “You” he says louder to one of the men here. “Go tell the guards that the wolf hunt is done. My men can gather again peacefully, nothing is to fear.”

She can’t help but very quickly look up at the man giving orders next to her, his remarkable charisma making her feel so small. 

She always looked up at Dean with an infinite admiration, but at least, she knows him… This stranger is different. 

“Allow me to touch you” he says under his breath and she just nods again while he wraps his strong arm around her.

Under the hood, she can’t see everything precisely, but the little she can distinguish of the inside of the castle he is guiding her in is enough to amaze her. 

Huge corridors and busy servants, carpets that seem to come from a museum, gold and flowers decoration the thick stone walls.

“Sir” a guard comes in their way, bending before Dean in respect. “Your men have been called back. The news never spread outside of the Queen’s guard.”

“Thank you” the knight answers.

“Glory be to the Queen” the guard bows again. 

“To the Queen” Dean answers.

The knight guides her further into the castle and up an infinite number of stairs, a serious look on his face. With every step up, the coat on her shoulders feels heavier and heavier, and her apprehension does too.

Once they reach the top, he walks to the left, his heavy boots echoing in the spacious corridor. Still holding her, his grip both reassuring and oppressing, he stops in front of a big wooden door that she may be supposed to recognize. 

She looks up at the door a little, still not completely daring to stop hiding under the big hood. He opens the door and stands with his back against the wall, his eyes straight ahead.

She hesitates, waiting for him, but when he doesn’t move, she carefully steps inside, not sure what she will meet on the other side of the massive oak door. 

Before her, a large room with thick wooden furniture and rich fabric. In the middle, a queen size bed with wooden bed posts that are near the stone ceiling with wolves carved in each of them. Hanging from the posts, a dark red velvet-like canopy that matches the heavy curtains. A big antique closet stands to the left side of the room.

Taking a cautious step, she looks right. Behind a great arch is another room that holds a big wooden tub covered in a sand-white sheet.

Despite the cold stone everywhere, the many carpets with many different colorful illustrations, the curtains, and candles everywhere makes the room somehow warm. 

She stands in the middle of what she guesses is the queen’s room, unsure of what to do now. Looking back to the door, she sees Dean’s elbow from where he is still standing against the wall, straight and still.

“Dean, come inside please” she states, using the most authoritative voice she has.

A queen has to be, right ?

“Yes, your Majesty.”

The knight steps inside immediately, his hands behind his back, his gaze fixated in front of him.

“What are... my plans for today ?” she asks him, trying to figure out what to do, to convince them, a whole Castle and Kingdom, that she is the damn queen.

“The Council requested a parlay with you when the sun is at its highest, and after you have your usual walk in the garden before you talk to the People. I think, Majesty.” 

“Right, the Council” she says unsure, wondering what the council can be. “Take me to them.” 

She holds her chin high, trying desperately to look like the Hollywood idea she has of how royals act.

His gaze finally finds hers, a small frown is on his face, an expression of confusion growing on his hard but still so beautiful features.

“Do you not wish to be dressed first, my Queen?”

“Oh… yes, I-I do wish that” she nods. 

She walks towards the closet and opens it, checking his face in the corner of her eye to try and find clues of what she is supposed to do, but all she can see there is worry for her, well hidden on his bodyguard face. 

Inside the huge closet, put in color order, are dresses, all of them big and complicated… And on some shelves, smaller white dresses, that may be for inside or summer. She takes them out.

“This will work” she states to herself as she turns around but stops when she hears Dean gasp. 

When she looks up he’s stepping towards the door quickly.

“No wait !” she calls out for him and he stops right in his tracks. “Dean...” 

He turns towards her, his gaze on the floor, jaw clenched.

She doesn’t want him to leave. She is, in fact; terrified of being without him. Although he is a stranger, his face is the only thing she knows in this weird place she knows nothing about.

What will they do once they find out their queen disappeared ? Is there a king she has to sleep with ? Do they torture people ? Kill ? 

She just needs him close.

“I don’t know what to wear” she admits.

Or even how to wear it, she thinks to herself.

“Any gown makes you look divine, my Queen” he says in a husky voice, still watching the floor intensely.

If the circumstances were different her knees would wobble at what he just said… But he is not Dean, and maybe he just says that to not get his throat slit.

“Okay, I will put on this gown” she says as she lifts the small white dress that she is holding, a questioning look on her face.

The knight swallows hard and seems agitated. For a second, she wonders why he is acting so weird.

“What is it ?” she asks him. “Tell me.”

“Pardon me, your Highness, but that is not a gown” he clears his throat and stands up straighter. “That is your undergarment.”

“Undergarment ?” she looks at the little dress, holding it in front of her by the straps. 

Her lips open in an ‘o’ when she understands this is her underwear. She has been flashing him her royal underwear this whole time, of course he was acting weird !

In a quick motion, she hides it behind her back and mutters an apology.

“Yes, my undergarment, of course. I-I will get dressed now” she walks towards her closet to retrieve a big gown in a hum of hesitation.

“Let me just call the maids, your Majesty” he says low. 

“Yes ! Oh and Dean ?” she starts, waiting for his gaze to meet hers before she speaks again. “Thank you” she kindly smiles.

The knight nods, turns slowly and steps towards the bedroom door with a determined gait, closing and locking it by sliding the metal rod in the slot.

She frowns, seeing him lock himself with her. His back still on her, he clears his throat before he talks.

“My Queen...” he starts. 

With that hunter speed her Dean also has, he suddenly unsheaths his sword from his scabbard and holds its sharp end under her chin without touching her 

“Would never have said something like that” he finishes his sentence. “Or call me Dean…”

She searches his face, slowly lifting her hands up in surrender.

“That is because I am not your queen.”

__________

Chapter 2 on @roonyxx​‘s blog 

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[formulanaughty]

you should do the toto seb overstim stuff as a continuation of the seb x merc driver because ᵘʰʰ toto said something mysterious and then left ... like bro... join ? perhaps they bicker about aftercare because seb actually has feelings and toto just thinks he knows what’s best (and like tiny feelings but it’s probably the fact that he’s the boss and is in control of everything)

(ok i realized when i re-read my first little teammates blurb that i made it seem like at the end that they aren't? teammates, but let's just pretend that never happened. seb and reader both drive for mercedes under toto as TP!)

sv/reader/tw - not proofread so my apologies for inconsistencies/issues. i don��t care that much. it’s 3.5ish k of smut (and some plot). i think i like it? idk. threesomes are hard.

warnings: threesome, toto is bossy (almost to a fault), i didn’t put enough seb in (i’m Sorry), overstim, orgasm control (?), spitting, crying during sex, sub drop (if you squint - i tried not to make it too heavy), there’s aftercare!! (lmk if i’ve missed anything!)

It had been two weeks since Toto walked in on you and Seb.

Two weeks of brilliant driving, of front row lockouts, of champagne-soaked Sundays.

Two weeks of denial.

You had played every card you had with both men, tempting them to break and give in. You'd met Seb in his driver’s room after a spectacular qualifying session that he had just barely beaten you in, stripped down to your sports bra with your underwear pushed aside as you laid back on his couch, two fingers sliding in and out of your cunt. He had taken one glance at you and laughed, bending down to pick up your sweaty fireproofs and race suit before tossing them in your direction.

“Get out,” he commanded, and you were too stunned to fight him. Your rage grew with each passing moment as he watched you fumble to put on the wet fabric.

“Fuck you,” you spat, the words venemous as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

When you entered your own room, just down the hall from his, you couldn’t get your hand back in your pants quickly enough, the shame of his offhand dismissal burning you from the inside out. The orgasm that ripped through you was vicious and you came with a shout, the sound easily disguiseable as one of rage. It wasn’t enough - not even close - to quell the need that built within you.

Toto had joined your private flight from one track to the next and you ended up in his lap as soon as the “fasten seatbelts” sign shut off.

He had grinned, looking down at you with amusement. “What is this?”

“You’re smarter than that Toto, you know what this is.” To prove your point you rocked your hips, sliding your covered core over his thigh.

He waved the stewardess away wordlessly when she approached with bottled drinks and made no move to touch you. “What this is,” he said, voice already stern, “is you beginning to directly disobey one of my orders.”

“Who says I haven’t already disobeyed your orders?”

He leveled you with one of his signature looks of disapproval, eyebrow raised and frown lines prominent.

You climbed off of him, arousal giving way to anger.

“Fuck your rules! Do you realize how stressful it is? Why do you think Seb and I ended up fucking in the first place? We need something to let off some of the pressure of being a fucking Mercedes driver!”

“You think being with him will last?”

“It’s not about being with him. It’s about relieving some of the stress that you put us under!”

He gestured wide with his arms, laughter almost mean. “You’re welcome to leave, sweetheart, but we both know you won’t. Sebastian was offered the same thing when the pressure first got to him and he stayed - has stayed - every time. You don’t want to lose Seb, the team — me. So you’ll put up with it. You may even find yourself enjoying it. Just another week, and then we’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Oh, so you and him have some fucked up agreement? Is that why he’s been getting preferential treatment on the track? So I’ll be even more wound up when you both corner me in my hotel room? Is that the whole point of your ‘orders’, Toto?”

He sat up straighter, his shoulders rolling back as he moved to make himself larger. Even seated in the plane seat, he still seemed to tower, larger than life. “He does not get preferential treatment - on track or off - for any reason and you know that. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.

Besides,” he continued, a dark chuckle leaving his lips as he settled back into the leather, motioning for the attendant to bring him a drink, “you’ll be wound up no matter what we do to you. It’s in your nature.”

“Fuck you,” you had said softly, settling down in the seat furthest from him with your face towards the window. Any closer and he would have been bound to see the fury of your heartbeat through your skin or hear your labored breath. Fighting with a man in his position, with his power, was the ultimate aphrodisiac. You’d never shied away from going toe-to-toe with him, especially not the few times it had escalated beyond arguing and moved into more. Arguing with him now, knowing there were so few boundaries still existing between you yet knowing he wouldn't back down or give in was beyond frustrating.

"You wish you could," he had said with a chuckle, raising his glass to his lips.

He had been right about you and you hated to admit it. The end of the triple header was in sight and you were wound up, springs loaded more tightly than they'd ever been, and neither Sebastian or Toto had so much as glanced your way unless required to by their jobs. They behaved in front of the media and team, but when it was just you around, it was as though you didn't exist.

You decided to funnel all of your anger towards them into other aspects of the weekend, giving them the same silent treatment they were dishing out. You did your best to ignore them both, going so far as to leave the post-race briefing early before conversations shifted to Sebastian’s car.

Later that evening, you receive a text from Toto.

We need to talk. Room 853.

Even though he was located just a few floors above you, you decide to make him wait, taking your time redressing and combing through your hair.

Thirty minutes later you swing the already-unlocked door open.

Toto stands at the desk, fingers flying over the screen of his phone while Seb lounges in the plush chair on the other side of the bed.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Toto sets his phone aside and faces you. “I said we needed to talk. Sit down.”

“I’ll stand, thanks.”

Toto grins and shakes his head. “I wasn’t asking. Sit.”

“Woof,” you bark out as you collapse backwards on the bed, already annoyed that they’ve cornered you like this. Seb laughs and for the first time in more than a week, you feel a genuine smile tug at your lips.

“Funny,” Toto deadpans.

“Is this all you dragged me here for? Or is there actually a point to this conversation?”

Toto shakes his head. “Such an attitude. What’s gotten into you recently?”

“What’s gotten into me? How about what’s not gotten into me? You catch Seb and I together and then tell me I’m not allowed to get off for two weeks, lording that fact over my head at any chance you get. Then you two start treating me like I don’t exist at all and—”

"I know she's gotten off," Seb interrupts, his face smug, “at least once. And no," he says, eyes shooting over to Toto, "I didn't have anything to do with it."

"You don't know shit," you quip from the edge of the bed, words tossed over your shoulder towards him.

He stands and moves, stepping away and then back before the mattress dips right behind you. "The entire hospitality trailer heard you. Britta asked if she needed to go make sure you were okay, but I convinced her you were just pissed, like you usually are when I outqualify you. I think I do know 'shit'."

When you open your mouth to protest, he moves from behind you and slides a silk scarf between your lips, tying it off quickly behind your head.

When you look over to Toto in shock, he grins.

"Shake your head no or tap out right now and we'll do it your way - whatever that may be - no feelings hurt. But I think," he says, watching as Seb leans in close to nose at the delicate skin of your neck, "I think that you'll enjoy it our way."

You maintain eye contact with him as you raise your chin in one last act of defiance.

“You’re trembling,” Seb whispers, his voice low and goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“She’s desperate for it.”

“Remember your sign?” Seb presses his lips to your jaw.

You reach back and give Seb’s leg three taps with two fingers.

“Good girl.” He looks at Toto and gives him a nod.

“Here’s the thing, pet. I told you no orgasms. Did you obey that rule?”

You stare him down but shake your head no.

“You should have heard her,” Seb says, his hands smoothing up and down your rib cage, rucking at the fabric of your shirt, creeping closer and closer to the curve of your breast. You barely keep yourself from arching into his touch. “She was in my room after qualifying, fingering herself, and she got mad when I kicked her out. Went back to her room and must’ve made herself cum so hard she screamed.”

“Screamed?” Toto directs his question to you.

You drop your chin in shame, remembering how you had been pushed to your breaking point by Seb’s dismissal. When the silence hangs in the air, you lift your head and nod.

“Good thing we gagged you tonight then, huh?”

Your eyes go wide and you glance at Seb.

“Sorry love. Boss makes the rules.”

“How many do you think we can get from her before she taps, Sebastian?”

“Six,” he responds, grinning.

“I think eight. But, knowing her, she’ll pass out before she taps out.”

Toto steps forward and reaches out a hand, cupping your jaw gently. “Wish I could kiss you.” He traces his thumb over your stretch lower lip and you whine, the sound strained through the makeshift gag. “No, no,” Toto chides, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead, “no whining, no begging. You wanted to cum so badly before, so we're going to let you now, as many times as we see fit. And you can’t ask for more or tell me to stop or use that smart mouth to sass me and piss me off. We’ll go until you learn that your orgasms are ours. Understand?”

You twist your head to give Seb more room as he presses kisses along your exposed skin, pulling your collar aside when he runs out of new real estate. You take a moment to consider what’s happening, what it will mean for you, and you lift your chin again, giving Toto a definitive nod.

———

You had lost count.

The first, wrought from you with Seb's fingers as Toto looked on and gave instruction, was forceful but not enough to slate the heat in your lower abdomen. The ache had persisted - insistent - until Toto shoved your knees wide and lowered his mouth to your core. Both men - Sebastian behind you and Toto kneeling below you - were still completely clothed while you writhed naked between them.

The second and third orgasms were claimed by Toto, his mouth working easy and lazy against your clit, as though this was just a hobby for him, and you let your head fall back onto Seb's shoulder as he dove back in for the fourth.

"You should see yourself," Seb says, voice low in your ear. His hands roam over your torso, fingers firm as they dig into your skin and move to pinch at your nipples. You back arches, offering more of yourself to the men before you, and your eyes drift closed.

"You look incredible," he continues, his hips lifting to press his hard length into the small of your back.

You work to open your eyes and look up to him, pleading as best you can without words, until you feel Toto work a finger into your dripping slit and your eyes flutter shut once again.

"That's it baby, come on. Let it go," Seb says, his eyes fixed on where Toto's mouth has sealed over your clit, tongue barely peeking past his lips with every rhythmic swipe of it over your tight bundle of nerves.

When another orgasm builds, every muscle in your body goes taught until it all snaps and you scream into the gag, arching away from Toto's mouth and Seb's hands and their combined overwhelming presence.

They give you a moment of peace while you work to catch your breath, inhales and exhales forceful through your nose and around the now-soaked scarf.

When Toto kneels on the bed he's finally naked, moving up the sheets until he's in front of you. "Doing so well, pet." He leans in over you, his nose brushing yours. "You still okay? We can take away the scarf if you want."

You lean into him, hands lifting to hold him close as you inhale his scent and feel his skin against yours. You pull back and nod your head, watching as he reaches around you to untie the scarf and toss it aside.

"Better?"

You nod, clearing your throat a few times before Seb, naked now too, appears behind you with a bottle of water. You sit up to take a few quick sips and pass it back, watching as he swallows the rest down easily.

Toto takes your chin in his hand and pulls you close, his lips meeting yours much more gently than you had expected, but the kiss deepens quickly. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you moan, his lips pulling into a grin against yours until he pulls away. "You taste divine," he says, licking at his lips again.

Seb's hands settle on your hips and he tugs, swiftly raising you until you settle onto your knees, stance wide as you lean into Toto.

"Don't cum in her," Toto commands over your shoulder, and a shiver runs through you at his words.

"But--" Toto breaks off your thought with a finger to your lips.

"Just because I took the gag off doesn't mean you can talk back. Understood?"

"Yeah," you answer, watching as he leans back onto the bed, his hand moving down to stroke once, twice over his hard length.

"Try again."

"Yes, I understand." You continue watching his hand, distracted by the prominent veins and dark pink head of his cock. You lick your lips and he chuckles.

"Gets rid of the gag and immediately wants something back in her mouth," he teases, his words directed at Sebastian.

You glance over your shoulder to see him, his eyes fixed on your ass as he runs one of his hands back and forth over the smooth skin there. The other hand holds his cock with what looks like a too-tight grip.

"Sometimes I have to stick a finger or two in her mouth while I'm fucking her. Keeps her quiet at least." He already sounds wrecked as he teases your folds with the head of his cock.

You scoff and Toto reaches a hand up, burying it in the hair at the nape of your neck. He drags your head down to his cock and you open your mouth automatically. He's larger than Seb, wider and a bit longer, but something inside of you begs to impress him, to be able to take him all in one go.

"What did I just say?" he asks, holding you just out of reach.

Seb chooses that moment to suddenly - finally - push his way in, your wet pussy making the slide easy, and you mon.

You whine when his hips hit your skin, the feeling of being filled almost too much already.

You don't have time to process the intrusion before Toto is pushing his cock past your lips. Seb pulls out slowly and then presses back in. Before you know it, you're being filled as quickly as one hole is empty, from one end or the other, and you lose yourself in the rhythm of it as they use you.

When Seb reaches around your hip to settle the pads of two fingers over your clit, you buck into his hand, Toto's cock falling from your lips as you swear, already too sensitive. He bats your reaching hand away and thrusts harder, fueled by the hitching of your breath and the way you tighten around him, squeezing like a snake.

Toto pulls at your hair, straining your neck to meet his gaze. "Cum on his cock, pet."

“It’s too much,” you choke out, barely a whimper, as Seb begins to grind into you with each thrust. It’s overwhelming, being fucked by Seb while Toto commands your attention.

“Don't stop,” Toto directs at Seb. Then he looks back down at you.

“She’s so fucking tight,” you hear Seb say, still looking up, watching the way Toto grins at his words.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

You follow his command and he grabs your jaw with one hand, holding your mouth just where he wants it. He stares for a moment before opening his own mouth and spitting slowly, his hot saliva hitting the center of your tongue. He holds you there, your mouth open, for just a moment before pressing your jaw up.

“Swallow.”

“Fuck, shes cumming again, I can feel it. She’s just— Fuck!”

Seb pulls out suddenly and even through the tremors of your own orgasm, you can feel the hot splashes of his release across your back. He groans and stumbles back, collapsing into the nearby chair.

“Toto,” you whine, desperately needing both more and for this to end. You can feel the beads of sweat slide down your back, the tendrils of hair at your temples damp and sticking to your skin.

“Come here.” He grips your arm and drags you up, rolling over you as he moves you where he wants you: on your back underneath him. He pushes your knees up almost too-high and looks down your sex. “Look so pretty, all fucked out like this. Pink and puffy.”

You flush at his casually obscene observance, at the act of him looking at you - at all of you.

“Should I get my mouth on you again? Make you cum with my tongue? Maybe two, three more, make you beg me to stop.”

“Toto,” you beg, unsure of what you’re asking for. More would wreck you - ruin you - but yet the ache for him, for anything, still sits hotly within you.

“I could do it. I could sit with my face there for hours, pet.”

“Please fuck me,” you try instead, head swimming with his words, with how tempting it is to take him up on his offer.

“Now she uses her manners.” He moves up and aligns his cock with your slit, teasing your entrance just as Seb had before. He thrusts in fast then, lowering himself to swallow your cry direct from the source. He holds still, his breathing easy as your chest heaves, hips already working in search of friction.

“Please,” you beg, near tears, as the mere feeling of him filling him up sets you off, the wave of another orgasm building quickly. “Toto, please, fuck me, please.”

He pulls back and nearly out, glancing down as the head of his cock catches on the rim of your pussy. When he pulls all the way, you cry out, your desperation met with a chuckle. “I told you pet, your orgasms are mine. You cum when I say you can cum. Sebastian makes you come when I say he can. Are we clear?”

You nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with desperation.

“Good girl. And just so you don’t forget it,” he says, thrusting back in, hard, “we’re going until I’ve had enough.”

You arch into him, your body taking over as it seeks out any tendrils of pleasure he’s willing to give.

He takes his hands in yours and raises them above your head, his body stretching long over yours as you cry out with his deeper thrusts.

You suddenly still, your legs trembling around him as your tears fall, the sudden orgasm absolutely stealing your breath. He groans and slows, grinding his hips into yours, the pressure of him inside you prolonging your release as he relishes the feel of you constricting around him.

“That’s it, there you go. So good for me.”

“I can’t— Toto, I—”

“You can, I know you can. Such a good girl, you can take it. Give me one more, come on, you’re so pretty when you cum for me like this.”

His patient, deep thrusts are more than enough to set you off again, and you sob as you feel it creep in, absolutely nothing to be done to stop it. Your voice is hoarse when you shout as it finally crashes over you, your vision going white and hearing going fuzzy.

Toto’s thrusts turn erratic then and he too pulls out with a groan. You watch with barely-open eyes as he grips his cock and strokes himself just once before painting your stomach with his own release.

“Fuck,” he pants, staring down at your body.

Tears continue to gather at the corners of your eyes and when you blink, they tumble down your temple to mix with the stale sweat there.

You sniffle and hear some shuffling before Seb appears, kneeling on the comforter next to you.

His voice is quiet when he speaks. “Come on love, let’s get you cleaned up. Did so good for us, let me take care of you now.” He turns to Toto. “Go get a warm, damp cloth from the bathroom. She’ll want to be held and I doubt you want to get jizz everywhere.”

“How do you know what to do?”

“Because she and I have talked about it! As much as it kills you to give up some control here, just follow my lead. She might ask for something from you, she might not. But just shut up and let me take care of her.”

Toto stares for a moment, watching the way Seb moves in - to press a kiss to your temple, to muzzle at your cheekbone - and how it almost brings a smile to your face, before he follows Sebastian’s request.

He returns and passes the rag to Seb, listening to the soothing way he praises you as he wipes your skin clean, folding the rag over itself to wipe at the sweat drying on your collarbones and neck.

When Seb turns to toss the rag away, you grab for Toto then, tugging him down almost beside you, half of his body still heavy on top of yours. He adjusts and wraps himself around your back, his frame completely engulfing yours, watching as Seb mirrors the pose in front of you, still speaking in such hushed tones that leave Toto straining to hear what’s being said. When your voice breaks through, his name somewhere on your lips, he leans in.

“Of course he’s proud of you,” Seb replies to whatever question you had asked. “I am too.”

Toto leans in to press a kiss to your shoulder and your head turns, now-bright eyes meeting his. “Thank you,” he mumbles, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to your skin. He continues his gentle assault, lips brushing any inch of skin he can reach. “I mean it. Thank you.”

[imaginesfor-thesoul]

spencer reid x hotch! daughter

(this is totally an au w/out jack and haley IM SORRY)

:: :: ::

The BAU had always heard about SSA Hotchner’s beloved daughter, (y/n), though none of the members had ever had the pleasure of meeting the aforementioned.

Besides the occasional anecdote, Hotch kept mostly to himself about his family. The only tangible evidence that (y/n) even existed was the black and white baby picture propped up on Hotch’s desk. On especially hard days, that silver photo frame displaying his gorgeous baby girl would be the only thing getting him through the day.

Naturally, mystery creates conspiracy. Derek had proposed that perhaps she was trouble, a black sheep. Maybe Hotch was ashamed to talk about her. Garcia, on the other hand, had attempted at some light snooping (minor invasion of privacy). Her search amounted to nothing more than a couple report cards and a birth certificate. JJ could appreciate Hotch’s value of privacy for his family, though on drunken nights with Emily and Spencer would sometimes picture what the mystery girl looked like (this often concluded with a female hotchner, furrowed brows and all).

The elusive daughter of aaron hotchner was far from the BAU’s mind that day, when a young girl wandered into the bullpen asking to talk to “Mr. Hotchner”.

The girl, late teens early twenties at first glance, walked into the buzzing room with a look of worry, yet a piqued interest.

She had got in using her last name and showing ID just to confirm. “Would you like me to tell your dad that you’re here, sweetie?” the kind woman front desk asked with soft eyes.

(y/n) shook her head “that’s alright, i’ll find him, thanks.”

Walking through the glass doors, it was busier than she was expecting. Perhaps she would need help finding her dad after all.

Taking cautious steps, so not to disturb the important people probably doing very important things all around her, (y/n) didn’t see the 6’1” mop of hair and cardigan approaching behind her.

“What are you looking for?” A silvery voice inquired from behind her.

The sudden voice caused (y/n) to jump out of her skin “Jesus dude, you scared the hell out of me!” She turned to see a man. A very gorgeous man. He wore tall cheekbones and wide, heartbreaking eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized quickly, though his previous question still lingering in the air.

(y/n) crossed her arms over her chest and quirked a brow. “How did you know I was looking for something?”

The man flashed a quick (cocky) smirk before stating “Well to start, when you got to the glass door, you pulled before pushing it open, indicating that you’ve never been here before, or at the very least, haven’t been here often. You came in slowly and scanned the entire floor, shortly analyzing every face around you, as well as reading every sign on a door from where you entered to here.” He finished. He spoke quickly, precisely and matter of factly.

As impressed as she was, all (y/n) could manage to say was “So you’re a profiler, huh. Let me guess, Reid?” She had remembered her dad telling her about the young genius.

Taken slightly aback, Spencer responded with “Uh, yeah. And you?”

“That’s not important. What is important however is the fact that you’ve been watching me! What, do I have a “kick me” sign on my back or something?” (y/n) nervously quipped. For some reason, he made her feel small... and warm, is it hot in here??

“No, not that I saw” He smiled lightly. “So, can I help you find something?”

(y/n) remembered why she had come here in the first place. “Oh yeah! Can you point me towards my- uh... Mr. Hotchner.” She cringed a little at her close slip up.

Reid instinctively pointed towards the top of the steps of the bullpen and towards the middle office. “He’s right up there-“

(y/n) lit up and began heading that direction.

“Wait you can’t just walk in there, he might be on a call or something. Do you have an appointment maybe we can get you to JJ!” He fumbled over his words as the girl continued to confidently stride towards his bosses office.

He looked to the members of his team for any sort of guidance or suggestions, yet they all remained speechless when the girl threw open Hocthner’s office door and jumped on in. “Who the fuck?” Was all Derek could say.

(y/n) pulled the door open with an unexpected force. It had been about 2 weeks since she had seen her father, and the look of surprise on his face made the homecoming all the more better.

“(y/n)?! What are you doing here?? How did you get in?” Hotchner questioned. Concerned, yet always happy to see his girl.

Noticing the numerous sets of eyes on him from the profilers downstairs, he quickly closed the blinds before scooping (y/n) into an overdue bear hug. “I missed you, dad.” She told him, letting go of him.

“I missed you too, (y/n). Always.” Smiling sadly, he ushered her over to his desk to take a seat.

“So what’s going on?” Hotchner asks, his furrowed brow returning.

(y/n) sighs, returning to reality stung a bit as the memories flood back. “I’m sorry I didn’t just do this over phone but I’m too afraid to use my phone in case someone is tapping it.” She let out, a slight pounding in her chest as the anxiety returns.

“What are you talking about?” Hotch eagerly asked. Worry spreading across his features.

“Do you remember a couple weeks ago my roommate, Amber, passed away from a drug overdose?” (y/n) began.

Hotch nodded.

“Well, two nights ago, I came back and my other roommate, Lacy is-“ (y/n) was trying everything in her power not to cry in front of her dad, though the words could barely come out. “She’s missing, dad! And there was a note... A note saying that whoever left it had killed Amber and that Lacy was next!”

She was hysterical now.

Hotchner’s heart broke as fear rose within him. His worse fear of something happening to (y/n) was getting dangerously close, and his sobbing daughter in front of him made him ache through and through.

“Right, here’s what we’ll do.” He took her hands in his in attempt to get her to stop crying.

“I’ll get the team on it right away. you’re going to have to help us, but I promise you, we will keep you safe.” (y/n) nodded and wiped the flowing tears off her cheek.

After a few more minutes of consolation, (y/n) had gathered herself and followed behind her father out his office door. Standing above the bullpen, Hotch shortly cleared his throat gaining the attention of his team. “We’ve got an urgent case, everyone up here now, Morgan, grab Garcia.”. The tall, dark and undeniably handsome man nodded and headed off promptly.

The rest of the team, curious as to why JJ hadn't brought the case to the team obeyed nonetheless. Reid caught (y/n)’s eyes once more. Through that gaze, an incomparable sense of safety fell upon the two. 

Filing into a board room, Morgan and Garcia were the last to stumble in after Hotch, (y/n), Reid, Prentiss, JJ and Rossi. It was interesting for (y/n) to finally place faces to the names she had heard many stories about. 

Hotch stood before the team. “Everyone, this is my daughter, (y/n). I wish I could've introduced her under different circumstances but here we are.”

A slight, barely audible realization settled through the team with Derek and Garcia fondly smiling towards you, JJ and Prentiss sharing a glance as if to say “called it”, Rossi nodding in understanding and Reid gaining a slight look of fear across his features.

As her father explained the events from the past couple of weeks, (y/n) zoned in and out, knowing the case through and through. Though she was still fearful, she let her mind drift towards the absolute sunshine that was Dr. Spencer Reid. His light had been the only source to pull (y/n) out of her total darkness, though it was just momentary.

They were magnetic from across the table. She didn't want him to pity her. As Hotch detailed what was going on, Reid couldn't help but glance at the girl, in a silent attempt at reassurance. 

Pictures of Lacy and Amber (that Garcia had quickly dug up) up on the screen, (y/n) felt the familiar feeling of darkness creeping up once more, her eyes welling up, though she couldn't seem to look away. She didn't seem to hear as Hotchner finished up and the team immediately jumped into action.

A large hand made its way to her trembling one. “We’ll find her, I promise”.

(y/n) looked into Reid’s soulful eyes and she could tell, he genuinely meant it.

Catching sight of her father’s furrowed brow, she swiftly slid her hand from under his and cleared her throat. She shortly replied “Thank you.” Though the look in her eye declared so much more.

:: :: ::

part two

AN oh hey, it’s been a minute. 

[dracoria-azucar]

Supernatural DSMP things that are probably connected and I live in fear of

-- The Crimson

 Literally a man-eating “egg” that’s hundreds of years old and craves world wide domination. It’s sentient but not omnipotent. It makes more sense that it’s actually a plant bulb rather than an egg because of it’s vines, but I mean that might just be meta aesthetic junk. There’s something inside of it? Hatching has been mentioned as something we “shouldn’t worry about”??? Huh.

- Church Prime / Tommyinnit

The holy lands are immune to the growth of the Crimson. The cultists feel unsafe when standing within it’s borders. It’s holy water has been shown to purify individuals exposed to the Egg directly and the armor lining the church walls have been used as “Hazmat Suits”. Tommy, who is one of the churches founders and Prime’s “chosen”, is the only character explicitly CONFIRMED in canon to be immune to the effects of the Crimson naturally. The Crimson has a personal vendetta against Tommy specifically. Dream has a personal obsession with Tommy specifically. Why does this kid have so many connections to freaky eldritch beings.

- Ranboo / Dream

We still have no idea what the “other half” of Ranboo is. Ranboo refers to the state he enters when being manipulated by Dream as the “Enderwalk” which doesn’t clear any of that up! But Dream had a shield in the final disc confrontation that’s pattern mimicked the white half of Ranboo’s skin. And Dream referred to the Enderwalk State as Ranboo’s “other half”? So which “half” is actually Ranboo? And why is the other one inclined to obey Dream’s orders if it’s just a normal Enderman???

- Jschlatt

What the fuck happened to this man. Who the fuck was this man. He just walked onto the server, won a presidency, succumbed to political corruption, became an alcoholic, and then died of a heart attack? Why the fuck did he just HAVE the equivalent of a necronomicon??? Now he’s just gone and seems incredibly reluctant to be brought back. Does he even HAVE any answers? It’s equally likely that the bastard just found the book on the side of the road or some shit. We just don’t know anything about him and may never get the chance. Fuck.

- Ghostbur

WHO IS HE???? Too many people have glossed over the fact that Ghostbur is literally his own character! Alivebur exists separately to this man who looks like him and sounds like him and has 75% of HIS memories? Where did he come from?? The most likely explanation is that he’s technically PART of Alivebur’s consciousness that came back to deal with the unfinished business that Alivebur didn’t WANT to deal with. But we don’t even have any real conformation of that outside of them not being able to be in the same place at the same time outside of Purgatory!!!

- The Inbetween / Karl Jacobs

Everything about this place seems too good to be true. People have already pointed out the aesthetic ties it has to Ranboo’s character. I don’t trust it. It’s portraying itself as a safe space for Karl to learn about his own powers that he has for some reason. “DONT STRAY FROM THE PATH x96″ YEAH OKAY BITCH SOUNDS FINE TO ME?? Totally not the voice of an alternate timeline Karl who fucked around and found out shit that was too much for his human mind to comprehend! 

- Foolish

Mans is just a Demigod, like, canonically. He is a minor deity of life, The Totem God, and he’s just vibing in a desert building a temple in his own honor. He hasn’t DONE anything plot relevant yet? But BBH has made the terrifying implications that KILLING him canonically will grant the killer an extra life???? HELLO????? Please keep my boy away from like 99% of the server thank you <3