Assassin's Creed X RDR2 Crossover????

Assassin's creed x RDR2 crossover????

I've started playing Rdr2, and I've gotten brain rot, but my brain is weird and I'm when I get brain rot like this, assassin creed comes around the corner.

So this just makes me think, if I do it, it would def be heavily based on an oc that hasn't even been fully made yet, just for the fact they are feral and will literally bite throats out. Idk if people would be interested in it, but I might just post snippets of ideas

So I started playing Vampire Therapist, and I'm already in love, I'm honestly surprised no fanfics have popped up.

I wanna kiss Sam, Crimson, Andromachus, and a few more

Just let me, give them a little kiss, peck if you will, maybe a bite

Sam might get the bite, I go feral with cowboys

Now I'm also thinking of Arthur Morgan and Sam Walls talking to each other

Barbos is love (fight me on his nickname I will bite)

Of Love and Pacts - Barbatos x AFAB!Reader

CW: NSFW, minors DNI.  DO NOT FOLLOW ME IF YOU ARE A MINOR OR DON'T HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO.

Demon form Barbatos, established relationship; use of fandom headcanon of pacts as tattoo marks on Reader; hickeys, very light, mild blood (scratching), P in V, light oral & petting (f receiving), jealousy, no nicknames/petnames, use of “Y/N” (it was necessary, you’ll see why), soft/emotional.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Barbatos’s fingers were feather soft, barely brushing your naked skin as he traced along your arm up and down, dipping into the crook of your elbow and down to your sensitive wrist.  Your body responded with goosebumps, the flesh tightening, answering the silent call of his gentle administrations.

His sheets were soft satin, colored dark teal like his hair.  It made you feel cradled by him, despite his fingers being the only part of him touching you.  The room was still warm from your recent lovemaking, so only the sheet was left, covering you from the waist down.

You hummed contentedly against his touch as his fingers shifted from aimless strokes, to following the patterns of the pacts tattooed across your skin.  As he brushed over each one, you could feel the silence grow, feel it begin to gather weight within the space.

Something was bothering him.

As if on cue, Barbatos spoke.

“Why have you never asked to form a pact with me?” he asked quietly.  His tone was polite, controlled, and in that instant, you knew that he was guarding his dissatisfaction.

His tone concerned you, and you rolled over to your back to face him.  You stared into his green eyes, and he couldn’t hide his hurt fast enough behind his neutral gaze.

“I thought you didn’t like pacts,” you replied.  “After what happened with Solomon, I... well, it didn’t feel right to ask.”

He held your gaze for a moment, before returning his fingers to trace along your chest, your ribs, your stomach.  He was quiet, his gaze pensive as his eyes trailed over the pact mark along your shoulder.

You watched him, taking in the beauty of his demon form and all the little extra signs of body language it provided.  The shudder of the skeletal wings on his head, the annoyed twitching of his dual-tipped serpentine tail as it flicked back and forth behind him.  But you didn’t need those to know what he was feeling.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently. “I didn’t know it would bother you. I thought it was what you wanted.”

Barbatos glanced at you, before returning his gaze to the pact marks that he traced.  His fingers traced the one along your hip, his fingers gently pushing down the bed sheet that covered you so that he could see all of it, reach all of it. Your body shuddered instinctually at his touch, once again reawakening for him.  He noticed of course, and the corner of his mouth quirked up slightly.

“What happened with Solomon was between me and him.” Barbatos returned his gaze to you, his hand gliding along your thigh to pull it over his own as his leg nestled between yours. “You are not Solomon.”

Your pulse became heavier, your heart pounding hard against your ribs.  “I’m not,” you agreed.  You reached your hand up and ran your fingers gently through the long bangs on the side of his face that hung down to tickle your cheek.  “I’d never hurt you.”

He smiled gently.  “I know that,” he replied.  “And yet, here you lay beneath me, covered in the marks of seven men, and not a single one of them mine.”

Barbatos lowered his lips over the pact mark on your shoulder and bit into it, the pain making you gasp.  But then his lips closed over his teeth, and he sucked, pulling at your sensitive flesh with his tongue.  Pain flowered into arousal.  But his mouth left you as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a dull ache on your skin and between your legs.

You knew for a fact that he had marked you, the hickey dark and bruising.  A wave of familiar heat flooded down to your clit, and you grinded yourself against his thigh.

He didn’t acknowledge your desperate action, his eyes instead focused intently on his handiwork on your shoulder.  It was Lucifer’s pact, the mark of Pride.  It always seemed a fitting place for it; the eldest brother always carried the heaviest weight of the family upon himself, all due to his inability to share responsibilities in order to guard his ego.

Now it was tainted, stained with Barbatos’s touch.

Barbatos kissed his love mark tenderly, before continuing a trail of soft kisses and licks down the length of your arm, his hand holding your wrist to allow him easier access.  His lips made his way to your palm where he placed a final gentle kiss into the sensitive nerves.  Then he turned your palm over to nip at the mark on the back of your hand.  It was Mammon’s pact mark this time, the mark of Greed.

He repeated the action he’d done before, ignoring the needy roll of your hips and the whine of your voice as he sucked at your skin, drawing forth your blood to just beneath the surface, where it washed out the details of the pact mark’s center.  He stared at that one too after he’d finished, his thumb rubbing over it as if he could smudge it off of your skin.

Then his eyes were moving, searching for the next. They settled on the mark detailed intricately on your hip, the mark of Envy.

“If I could rid you of each and every one of them, I would,” he muttered. His nail dragged over the surface, the pressure stinging as it cut into your skin. You hissed air in through your teeth, but once again his mouth was over the wound he’d caused, his tongue lapping at the small line of blood.

You rolled against him again, but this time his hand pushed down firmly on your hip and held you still.

The next mark, the mark of Gluttony, was on your stomach, framing your belly button like an intricate henna tattoo.  It kept the center of the mark from him, but it didn’t stop him from sinking his teeth into your skin just below it and sucking.  His chest was pressed against your aching core, your wetness sticking to his skin. Your clit sang its praises, your cunt gathering wetness, as his body pressed against your pubic bone.

“Barbatos...” you whined, your fingers clutching the bedsheets.  “Please...”

He paused in his task, and looked at you with narrowed eyes, pupils expanded with desire and beneath that, a dark, carnivorous possessiveness.  “Please what?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as your body sang like music notes on glass. Any sharper, any louder, and you’d shatter, explode into a thousand pieces beneath Barbatos’s touch.

“Please... don’t stop,” you whispered.  “Mark all of them.”

Barbatos’s breath caught in his throat. Whatever he had expected you to say, he hadn’t expected it to be that.

He came up to hover over you and captured your mouth in a fiery kiss, his tongue pushing past your lips to demand your acceptance of him.  You opened instantly, your arms wrapped tight around his neck as you tried with all your might to press every inch of yourself against him.

He was gone as quickly as he’d came, returning once again to the space between your legs.  You had thought he’d continue on to the mark adorning your thigh, but he stopped to plant a gentle kiss against your clit, followed by a slow draw of his tongue from your wet entrance to your sensitive nub.  You gasped, the heat of his mouth calling every nerve into attention for him, your cunt throbbing and aching.  He growled low, and drew his tongue along your slit again, the wet muscle pushing deeper into your hole before sweeping up to capture your clit gently in his teeth. He gave it a small suck, and your hips began to buck against him, desperate for more.

But he didn’t linger.  He moved away from your aching, wet core as it clenched around nothing, your body desperately calling for him to return.

His steely resolve never ceased to impress you.  You could tell by how rock hard he was that he wanted nothing more than to plunge himself into your depths.  But this task was far more important to him, and he was determined to see it through to its completion.

He settled himself over your thigh, his fingers tracing the mark of Lust.  It was his least favorite mark, far too close to the intimate parts of you for his comfort.  His bites and sucks were harder this time, and you tensed against it, pleasure shifting into pain.

Barbatos wasn’t one to hurt you.  Not truly, at least.  He enjoyed torturing you, making you beg for him.  But true harm, true fear, was not something he ever wanted to see in you when you looked at him.

So, to ease the harshness of his mouth, his fingers stroked you gently, dipping between your folds to soothe and pleasure.  His fingers withdrew to allow his thumb to find its home and draw small circles, applying enough pressure for you to focus on pleasure instead of pain.  You writhed beneath him, your breaths becoming quick and labored as your hips began to stutter against his hand, but Barbatos never let you cum, keeping his touch just gentle enough to keep you from falling over the edge.

When he finally lifted from your thigh, the mark of Lust was blacked out with multiple hickeys.

Barbatos sat up, situating his legs on either side of yours, straddling your thighs.  He grabbed your bicep.  “Roll over,” he ordered as he pulled you.

You listened, rolling to your stomach, your head propped on your forearms.

Goosebumps scattered your skin as you felt his hair tickle the middle of your back, followed soon by his lips, barely brushing.  He trailed his mouth down the curve of your body, following the valley of your spine. You thought he’d stop there to address the large pact mark in the middle of it, but he continued on, following the rise and fall of the hill of your ass, and down your thigh until he finally reached the sixth pact on the back of your calf, Wrath.  He lifted your ankle slightly as he set to work, placing his own mark over it. 

You waited in silence as he worked, your mind falling into a calm serenity.  The heavy invisible anger that had been present in the room earlier was gradually lifting with each bite and dark imprint he left on you.  But you knew there was more to be said, a quiet anticipation that hung between the two of you like an invisible veil.  You were together, your hearts visible to each other, but still somehow separate.

His hands trailed back up your body, his lips ghosting up, up, up until they once again found the middle of your back where the last mark burned.  It was Belphegor’s mark of Sloth, and Barbatos paused as he stared down at it, his fingers tracing its edges.

“It’s not just about the marks,” he finally confessed quietly.  “It’s about what they mean. It’s about not being able to be with you. Not being able to protect you.”

Your eyes began to burn, the swell of emotion within you clawing for a way out.  Barbatos must have sensed the change in you.  He gently planted a kiss between your shoulder blades along your spine, followed by another on the smooth plane of your shoulder.

“I want to be able to protect you,” he said against your skin. “I want you to be able to call on me if you ever need me.  Why should they be able to protect you when I can’t?”

The tears finally slipped from your lashes to absorb into the pillow as he lowered himself back down to the pact mark and began to finish what he had started.  He sucked and bit, as his hands caressed your sides, his fingers squeezing your flesh and releasing.

“I wanted to...” you finally whispered.  “I wanted to make a pact with you from the very beginning.  From the moment I knew I loved you.”

You could hear the intake of breath behind you and his grip on you tightened, his nails digging into your skin.  You rolled to your back again so you could face him, to let him see the truth in your eyes.

You cupped his face in your hands as he hovered over you, watching, listening.

“I’ve always wanted it,” you continued.  “But I didn’t think you did.  And it wasn’t just about Solomon. I knew that a pact with me would impact your loyalty to Diavolo.  I didn’t want to do that to you. I didn’t want to ever put you in a position where you felt torn between me and duty.”

Barbatos’s gaze softened, the wings crowning his head shuddering softly before tucking gently in relaxation.  His tail ceased its movement, instead laying gently and twining around your leg.  His hand covered yours as you continued to cup his cheek.

“The pact will always take precedence,” Barbatos replied.  “Not even Diavolo would be able to question it.  And, he wouldn’t anyway. He has always been the most reasonable of demons and respects the binding power of pacts without question.”

You bit your lip, your brow furrowed.  “Are you sure? What if that changes?”

Barbatos smiled softly and cupped your face in return.  “If I have to choose between loving you and duty, then I will choose love.  Every time, for eternity.”

More tears slipped down the corners of your eyes to absorb into your hair.  “Then make a pact with me. Please.”

Barbatos’s eyes glowed slightly, and a shudder ran through his body.  He lowered himself onto you, the heat of him soaking deep into your skin, your muscles, your bones.  You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, deep and pounding.  He may be a demon, but he looked and felt as real as any man, and far greater than any human.  His cock was hard between you, pressed against you in all the right places, places that made you want to arch your hips and greet him, to coax him within you so you could let him feel the love that nestled there, just for him.

He didn’t question your request.  He didn’t require verification. He took your decision as gospel, an order that he was more than willing to follow.

He kissed you hard, his mouth open and tongue searching.  You met his ferocity with your own, your fingers gripping his hair tightly as your legs wrapped around him.  He pulled away just enough to stare into your eyes again.  With every inch of your bodies intertwined, he dipped his hips, allowing his cock to find its home at your wet entrance.

“I am Barbatos, Demon of Time, servant of Prince Diavolo, first of his name.”

He pushed himself into you slowly as he spoke, allowing your body to stretch around him and welcome him home.  You gasped, your eyes closing briefly, before they opened again.  As he bottomed out against you, your cunt tightened around him, throbbing.  His cock twitched, his nerves singing in pleasure as he felt the magic of his words begin to coalesce.

“I pledge myself to you, Y/N...” he pulled out slowly to the tip and pushed back in again, just as slow.  “...that we may be bound by an unbreakable pact.”

He loved the way you inhaled, the way your pulse fluttered in your neck.  He pulled out and thrust in again, harder, as the magic moved through him, first as a trickle, and then a stream.

“This I swear to you on both my name as well as the very blood that runs through my veins,” he finished.

The stream was now a river, powerful and strong.  If you didn’t complete your end of the pact, it would sweep you both away in its destructive force.  The thrill of it, of the feel of ancient power humming in his veins while your cunt squeezed his cock, brought its own sense of dizzying euphoria.  He thrust into your harder, his pace increasing as he lifted himself slightly to improve the angle of his approach, to reach the deepest parts of you, the parts that made you moan and writhe.

“I....” Your breath hitched by his thrusting. “I am Y/N, descendant of Lilith, keeper of the... Seven Deadly Sins through oath and blood.”

Your oath was interrupted briefly by a sharp gasp as Barbatos thrust deep into you, his breaths turning into pants against your skin as he watched you, his cheeks flushed red.

You could feel the magic transferring to you, the demonic power within him flooding your veins.  If you didn’t finish your oath, the binding would be incomplete, and it would incinerate you from the inside out.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, forcing yourself to center on him as you felt your orgasm begin to build.

You strengthened your voice, your tone firm.  “I accept this unbreakable pact, that we may be bound in body and name.”

Your hands moved from his neck to cup his cheeks as you rode the tides of his lovemaking. 

“I promise to call upon you in my times of need, and to guard your soul as my own.  This is my oath to you.”

Barbatos gasped as he felt the connection solidify, an anchor that pulled him down to you.  He could feel his orgasm begin to build as the magic weaved and tangled itself between you.  He lowered his lips to your body, his soft lips meeting the top of your stomach just below your ribs. A ring of magical fire emerged on your skin, radiating outward to unveil the intricately woven circle of his pact mark on your solar plexus.  It didn’t burn, and you didn’t scream.  But you gasped, your eyes flying open at the power that coursed through you.

Barbatos’s thrusts increased as he greedily watched the fiery ring expand across your skin like a stone being dropped in a pond.  His eyes glowed, and his canines sharpened as his demon blood burned hot from the binding.  He closed his eyes and kissed his mark on you again.

“Mine.” He said gruffly as he thrust into you. He could feel his balls begin to tighten, could feel your sweaty thighs shaking against his hips.

“Yours,” you replied as your fingers were once again tangled tightly in his silky strands.

“All mine,” he repeated.  He planted another kiss as the pleasure coursing through his body started to crest.

“Yes. All yours,” you confirmed.  “No one else’s, I promise. Ah! Barbatos...”

Your words fell away into soft whines and gasps as your entire body tightened around him in anticipation of the euphoric fall you were about to take.  The magic still coursed strong in you, making everything heightened, sensitive, and your connection with Barbatos more powerful than ever.

His mouth found yours again, all tongue and teeth as he panted heavily into your mouth as he fucked you fiercely, the bedframe shaking and shuddering.

The pleasure finally snapped, overtaking you like wildfire just as the magic had done moments before. You came with a gasp as you clung to him, and Barbatos followed suit, your name on his lips as he spilled himself inside of you, his cock thrusting needily.

The frantic rhythm subsided to a stuttering of hips and spasming, sensitive bodies, the air between you hot and humid with each panting breath.  You stared up at him with tired, dazed eyes, and he kissed you with your face in his hands.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips.  “I love you, I love you.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “I love you too. I love you, I love you.”

After a moment of reprieve, Barbatos pushed himself up to sit, his twitching cock still nestled inside you, his hands on your hips.

You had expected to feel his soft touch along your sides, your hips, your thighs, massaging your tender muscles as he always did after your time together. 

But the touches never came.

You opened your eyes worriedly to see him staring down at your body wide-eyed, his flushed features washed pale.

A sense of alarm stole the remnants of peace from your veins. 

“What?” you asked. “What is it??”

Had you done something wrong?  Was the pact incomplete?  Damaged? Had you hurt him in some way? You stared down at your own body where you’d felt the magic of the pact weave itself.  It was then that you noticed it.

Barbatos’s pact stood out beautifully against your skin, a proud, intricate pattern that rested at the center of your body.

But beneath that, where the pact of Gluttony had been, was... nothing.

It was gone. Your pact with Beel was gone.

And so was the pact with Asmodeus.

And Mammon.

And Leviathan.

You stared at your naked body.  Barbatos’s bruises were still there, a collection of brands upon your skin.  But the pact marks... your connection to the fallen brothers... was gone.

“Barbatos...” you whispered, as numbness began to overtake you.  “What have you done?”

He was just as stunned as you, his voice just as quiet.  “I... I don’t know...”

*reblogs* oops

Reblog if you're not homophobic

Every url that reblog’s will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad. 

Babybee! So cute, a precious baby

I lied. Here's another quick little pieces because I can't have Optimus without his pup.

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