Hi! Can I Get An Angst/comfort Fic Of Arthur With A Female S/o Who Is Depressed And Suicidal? Like He

Hi! Can I get an angst/comfort fic of Arthur with a female s/o who is depressed and suicidal? Like he walks in on his s/o c*tting while having a mental breakdown? Or he just notices the cuts/scars? Or he walks in on his s/o bl33ding out?? Idk you can get creative with it I’ve just been having an extremely rough couple months. If this makes you uncomfortable then you can just ignore this request, but thanks anyways! I hope you have a great day/night!! <3

It's my problem if I feel the need to hide

Pairing: Arthur x f!reader

Summary: You feel under the weather, but decide not to tell anyone. As your condition only worsens, your friends start to worry about you. It's when you decide to let everything go your knight with blue eyes and a cheeky smile comes to the rescue.

Warnings: depression, suicidal ideation, not being able to care for oneself (containing lack of hygiene and proper meals), mentions of vomit(ing) (3), negative self talk, dark thoughts

A/N: I am so sorry for the delay of this fic, I hope it will be of use to you still. I haven't written for this fandom in a long while, so getting back to it was a little hard, though I enjoyed it none the less. I tried not to use any (Y/N)s and make it as racially neutral as possible, as well as appearance-neutral (Arthur carries reader 1 time, but he's stronger than a regular human, and y'all deserve it ladies, no matter your size). If anyone wants to talk about anything at all, my dms are open, as well as my ask box. Take care of yourselves and stay safe!

The human mind is possibly nature's greatest invention. The complexity with which all its components interact to keep the body functioning is nothing short of phenomenal. And not only that, but it is aware of itself, encasing its own conscience inside a safe vessel, built and evolved specifically to protect it. And as time progressed, and all the basic needs of the body were cared for, there came a need to create. The body could easily be fed, but the conscience needed a different type of sustenance.

The human mind is capable of incredible things. It can set goals for itself as well as achieve them. It shaped the entire world to its liking, for better or for worse. The human mind is the reason why we live the lives we do today. It is the thing that keeps us alive and sane.

It's funny how drastically that can change.

If you'd ask any of the men residing in the mansion on who the worst enemy of humans is, you're sure all of them would at least mention the human conscience, if not directly choose it. After all, their lives have been woven through with the thread of sorrow, the perpetrator being none other than the human mind- theirs or someone else's.

At this point, you feel like you've at least got a peek at the complex inner worlds of history's greatest minds. Some you knew better than others, but you've been le Comte's servant for long enough to consider all the mansion's residents at least friends.

It was evident to anyone who has been in the mansion for at least a month that all of the people (and vampires) residing in it had some sort of baggage, wearing them down even in their second undead life. Some were better at hiding it than others, some just felt more comfortable keeping their troubles to themselves, while others' emotions and traumas were sometimes too great, too overwhelming to be kept locked inside their bodies.

You've tried your best to help those who needed it, both physically and mentally. It helped a few to open up to you at least a little and as time went on, with your hard work, you've earned respect for yourself even amongst the toughest nuts in the mansion. Poking through others' personal affairs and traumas carried along numerous fights as well as apologies and in the end just served to strengthen the bond between you and the residents. And yet, at times like these...you couldn' help but feel alone.

Like all the others, you had to shoulder the burden of traumas, insecurities and unpleasant experiences collected unwillingly throughout your life. You suspected the others knew of this, or at least had a hunch that you, like all of them, haven't had the pleasure of living a carefree life.

They saw you as an independent, strong and courageous woman, resilient and kind in any situation. And if you were in the right state of mind, you would agree. But lately, you began to doubt these traits of yours, the ones you valued so much and were valued for.

You weren't a stranger to struggling and you knew that anyone in need of help deserved to receive it and should not be scared to ask for it.

So why did the thought of asking for help make your stomach churn?

You've been pondering that question for a few days now. Lately, your entire reality seemed to have shifted. At first, you didn't think anything was wrong, a simple bad day, or a bad week wasn't anything to be too worried about. Nothing a nice, relaxing weekend couldn't fix, right? And yet, when you had tasks to complete, you felt agitated and annoyed, but when you had nothing to do, you were antsy and restless. Always feeling like something should be happening, like you should be doing something. For some reason, you couldn't make yourself to do the things you felt you should be doing.

Soon everything has become a bother. Tasks you could usually do with one hand were suddenly so hard that by the end of the day, the thought of bathing or changing into clean clothes made you want to scream until your throat was sore. And so you chipped away at your routine that you so painstainkingly built when you appeared in this time, until the only remaining activities in your days were your work and some basic necessities.

You knew it was getting bad. And it constantly created an almost numbing whirlwind of emotions you really didn't need right now. Why was this happening? What brought it on? Why now?? Is it going to get worse? All these questions and none you had an answer to. You had guesses and various techniques you learnt here and there back in your time, but...you couldn't bring yourself to do anything.

You were trapped. At least it felt like it. Trapped inside yourself, inside your mind. You knew you should tell someone, that if you let it go on, it would sooner or later consume you. But you couldn't do anything. It was as if your body didn't listen to you.

It seemed the residents were starting to get suspicious of your strange mood as of late. There were times when one of them would approach you and carefully ask about your wellbeing, and as much as you wanted to say something, you never did. You logically knew that the first step would be the one to break through the loop, the one that would make all the others just a little bit easier until you felt normal again. But anytime you tried to break through the selfdestructive habits you had fallen into, a wave of such tirednes, nausea and shame overcame you, that you simply caved to your mind's twisted whispers.

You concluded that your best option at this moment was to lay low and let it pass. Your days have become a steady routine of wake up, work, go to bed. And repeat. It was manageable, at first, even with the onslaught of thoughts your mind was conjuring, managing to come up with more and more ways to taunt you with. But as days and then weeks passed, your energy slowly seeped away from your body and it retaliated by shutting off and out anything unnecessary to save as much of what was remaining.

These things included mostly socialising. You became less talkative, while you would usually enthusiastically engage in conversations, if not outright start them, lately you would not speak unles directly spoken to. It has taken a toll on your concentration as well. Many times when someone would try to strike up a conversation with you, they'd have to repeat their question or even call out your name mid-conversation, because mentally you just weren't there. These things not only started to worry Sebastian, your biggest constant in your new life, given that you worked alongside him every day, but also the other residents. You knew of this, as out of it as you might have seemed and/or have been these past few weeks, you knew that they noticed, because you knew them. But what started as a simple snowball had alrady turned into an avalanche and you had to admit that you were no longer in control.

Not that you really cared. You knew you should care, should be trying harder than ever to break out of this spell, but you couldn't. And every time you might have felt strong enough to confess how you were feeling, to lean on someone, to get the help you knew you needed, a sudden pang of fear pierced your chest and you shrivelled back, back into your own small shell that was your skull.

Trying to find a reason for this foolish anxiety proved not so easy, when your mind would make up about five reasons why you should keep your mouth shut every time you even dared to ask yourself such a question.

What if they didn't believe you?

What if it wasn't not that bad?

What if you were just making it up? Making it seem bigger than it is?

These people have gone through so much. They've seen war, witnessed and felt abuse and probably had been through things you couldn't even imagine. Why should they help you, when they're the ones who needed help?

You were not worthy.

Such comparisons were something you chastised anyone who would confess experiencing them for. And yet, when it came to you, it felt like a holy truth. Something that could not and should not be questioned. Because you don't want to be selfish, do you?

You've dealt with this by yourself before, surely you could do it again and not drag down others with you. These and many others became your daily mantras. Lay low, hide, be small, don't make a noise. Survive. But was that really how you wanted to live? If you could even call that a living. You were surviving, yes, but at what cost? For a promise of a period of time where you wouldn't feel like the world is made out of cardboard? A period of time where you wouldn't feel like screaming and crying every second of every day? And how long would that last? A few months, a year maybe? Was it really worth the struggle?

You blinked yourself out of your thoughts when someone vigorously snapped in front of your eyes. Looking around in slight daze, your eyes fall upon a smiling face. "There you are! Theo says he's just waiting for you to walk face first into a wall!" Arthur says cheerily, showing you his signature smirk. "I, like the good friend I am, keep defending you of course. But it's hard when your mind seems to get further and further away from us every day. At this rate, you'll wander off into Seine soon. And we wouldn't want that, would we?" he playfully jabbed at you.

You could feel yourself shaking your head, but the only thing you could focus on was how nice it acually seemed, the cold water seeping through clothes and circling your limbs, the undercurrents keeping you down, where nothing could get you, laying you down onto the riverbed, weighed by the water in your lungs... "So, what's going on in that noggin of yours, hm?"

Arthur was, besides Sebastian, the closest person to you out of all the others. You enjoyed his easygoing demeanor and his jokes never failed to make you laugh. He was a terrible flirt though, and someties could be pretty pushy with his advances as you've realised over the time you two spent together. Luckilly, after a firm conversation backed up by Theo, he had calmed down significantly towards you. The writer still heavily complimented you, always putting that silver tongue of his to use, but you thought nothing of it. He was like that with everyone, even some of the other residents, so the possibility of it ever meaning anything more than banter or a simple compliment never even crossed your mind.

"You're doing it again." the man in question sighed. You blinked at him with confusion. As if reading your thoughts, Arthur clarified "You're in your head again. It must be something really interesting in there to make you so distracted." he joked again, but his expression turned serious "But honestly, what's going on? You haven't been yourself for quite a while now and everyone's getting worried. Even Wolf asked me if I knew what was up with you the other day!" the writer looked at you intently "You know that we're here for you, right? Even if you feel like it's stupid, if you need anything, you can tell us."

You averted your eyes from Arthur' piercing gaze. You knew his words were sincere and it made your chest squeeze uncomfortably. Looking straight ahead, in the direction which you were going, you answered, trying to make your voice as leveled as you could "Thank you for worrying Arthur, but I'm alright, really. I've been thinking of asking le Comte for a break. It would be nice to have some off time." This wasn't a complete lie, since having some down time, where you could pretend time has stopped really did sound appealing, but now you'd have to actually go and ask the good count, which you really didn't want to. Not because you were worried you wouldn't be given a break, but because it was another plan to be made and you barely had enough energy to last you until the end of the day, much less go somewhere out of your own volition.

Arthur knew that you were lying, or at least not telling him everything, so he grinned at you again and spoke confidently "Alright, love, the game is on! I gave you a chance to explain youself, but it seems I'll have to solve this mystery myself." he winked at you and you expected him to take his leave. But Arthur softly grabbed your arm and stopped you in the middle of the halway you were in. Turning to face him in his hold you looked at him questioningly. His smile is much softer now, and if you could focus properly, you would see worry glinting in his eyes "If you ever change your mind, you can stop by. Day, night, doen't matter. We're here for you, love. I'm here for you. Just as much as you're here for us." and as soon as he finished speakig, he was gone. Down the hallway, in the direction of his room. You quietly turned around, trying to process the strange encounter while you went your way.

Your mind was surprisingly quiet for a few hours after that.

You eventually did end up in le Comte's study. Nerves were wracking your body and mind the entire day and when you finally did enter the dreaded room, after all your chores were done for the day, you felt like you would start crying at any moment. For some reason, you felt awful for doing this. You didn't need the break. You didn't need off time to get better physically or because you had too many chores. Why did you want a break, besides Arthur catching on that there was, indeed, something wrong? The only thing you had planned for this break of yours was rotting away in your bed and doing as little as humanely possible. Maybe fate would be so kind and take you away in your sleep. Let you wither away like an overwatered flower.

You tried to make the discussion as quick as possible. Fortunately, the count didn't ask too many questions about your wellbeing and the reason for taking a break, remembering well that you haven't had one in a good while. He did ask if you consulted Sebas about it and you forced down a shudder at the mention of your good friend's name. Not because the butler was opposed to you taking a break, he actually kindly insisted you take one, revealing that he also noticed your mental absence in the past weeks, which could be almost counted as a month now. The worry and confusion in his tone as well as his expression made you wish he told you to stay, to help him, anything to try and convince you to not do what you were about to.

Why were you so worried? There wasn't a reason you should feel bad about taking a break. Even if you physically were just as spry as a grasshopper, taking a break for the sake of mental health was just as important. But deep down, you coudn't lie to yourself. Deep down you knew you were going to give up completely. Either for someone to find you, or to be left to rot. And right now, you hoped for the latter, even if it was still scary to admit.

After Comte gave you a week off, asking if it was enough time for you, which you hastily confirmed, feeling bile rise up your throat and wishing for the comfines of your room, your shaky legs and hazy mind managed to carry you to your room. After spending some time emptying the contents of your stomach, which were absolutely too small you would bet, you nothing but collapsed onto your bed. Mouth unrinsed, hair oily and ruffled, it had finally dawned on you how much of a mess you must have loked like. This realisation finally seemed to open the dam that was holding back everything you were feeling. The disgust, the shame, the fear, the anxiety the heavines, the loneliness, but most importnatly the longing.

Fast, salty tears carried all of that out of your body, leaving your face a puffy, sticky mess. Suddenly, you felt rage boil inside of your chest, sprading quickly to your head. Why didn't you say anything? You were so worried and because of what? Your own mind? Could you be any more stupid? The very same mind that put you through absolute hell this past month was now angry at itself, at its own actions. Why did the world have to be this cruel? Why couldn't it grant you the simple request of a mind that would not try to sabotage itself? And now it was too late.

Yo chose this, you thought to yourself. You chose this and these were the consequences of your actions. As if the tears have released all your pent up frustration in your body, all that it left was numbness. A kind of numbness that made your eyelids heavy, making them gravitate towards each other and pulling you into a deep, calm slumber. The kind of slumber you have not been able to achieve for more than the month you've been actively suffering. But also the kind of slumber that would not bring you closer to salvation.

You woke up, not knowing the time and not really finding yourself caring either. You felt strangely...calm. There was no hunger, no thirst, nothing. Only suffocating quiet, the likes of which you would feel in the deep blue of the ocean. You laid stil for what felt like hours, but could have also been minutes, before you succumbed to unconsciousness again.

This has gone on for a few days of your week long break. At one point you felt the pang of hunger, yet you had no will to satiate it. You only rose from your bed late into the night, when the squeezing walls of your stomach, at this point surely eating itself, threatened to spill nothing but its own acid. You tiptoed as quietly as your stiff muscles could into the kitchen, and after munching on some bread and water, because even though you got up, you still didn't feel like cooking, or that you deserved anything more than the simplest of dishes, you quietly stalked the halls back into your room. You fell asleep again, your stomach satisfied, or maybe convinced into satisfaction by your mind, the last thing you heard was the faint sound of Mozart's piano in the dead of the night.

This cycle had repeated for another few days. Your days were interrupted by quiet knocking that would wake you from your slow decline, and sometimes joined by murmurs behind the door. You couldn't find it in you to care. The door wasn't locked. At one point, you could swear you saw a shadow in your window, but it was gone too soon for your slowed mind to focus on it.

One morning, somewhere at the end of your break, not that you were keeping track of time, your door opened. A gust of fresh air was the first thing that barged its way into your room, chasing out the old and musty, albeit warm air from it. You shivered and wiggled deeper under your covers, grumbling hoarsely in protest. Your half asleep mind registered someone slowly walking into your room, as if they were scared to find out what was in it. You kept your eyes closed.

Arthur knelt down beside your bed, looking at your sickly, worn out face. Carefully sneaking his arm under your blanket, his hand searched for yours until it could take it into its own. Caressing your knuckles with his thumb, he cooed softly "Oh, love. I am so sorry. I am so sorry we let this get so far." You didn't respond. What was there to say? "It isn't your fault" you croaked out quietly, not having enough energy to say it loudly and fearing your voice wouldn't work.

"Why did you hide from us? We would've helped..." the writer almost whined, and you could feel the guilt and worry radiating from him. You wanted so desperately to answer, to give him a good reason for how foolish you were acting, but you couldn't. There was nothing that would excuse you. Nothing.

Seeing your slightly open eyes well up with tears, Arthur rushed closer to comfort you. Shushing and soothing you like a small child after a booster shot, he held you close and you tried not to weep hader. "It's alright, love, everything is alright. I've got you. I've got you now, it's good. You're alright."

After you calmed down slightly, you wanted nothing more than to shoo him away, close yourself off again an bury yourself into your bed to get away from the immense shame you felt. But Arthur seemed to be having none of that. He softly but insistently reached under you and helped you sit up with one arm, holding your hand with the other still. you couldn't bring yourslf to look him in the eye and yet his tone never changed from the soft lull he comforted you with. "Come on now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up."

Your mind wanted desperately to push back at him, scream and yell and fight, but you almost limply let him straighten you up and help you walk over to the bathroom. The writer's heart nearly broke in two as he saw you in the same clothes you were in when he last spoke to you. The image of you suffering in silence for so long made him nearly tear up as well, but he held himself back, focusing on you being his biggest priority.

He ran a bath for you, helped you out of your clothes, his gaze never cascading from your face, looking for any signs of overstepping any boundaries and when he found none, he helped you into the bathtub, first washing your hair and then your body, asking if you could and wanted to handle your private parts yourself. You whispered out a small yes, feeling somewhat ashamed still and wanting to make his efforts a bit easier. Letting you soak in the blissfully warm water, a question appeared in your mind "Arthur..." you called out quietly "Were you the one knocking at my door?" you asked timidly, not knowing fully if it wasn't some kind of delirium your mind put you through. The writer's face became solemn as you took a peek at his face and he spoke, his words and tone equally heavy "Everyone did. We were worried about you. After we heard about your break, we thought it might do you well. Everyone noticed that you weren't quite yourself. But after the first few days, when no one ever saw you leave the mansion, let alone your room, our worries doubled. Wolf said he noticed you walking to the kitchen at night, but Sebas only noticed small portions of bread disappearing from the kitchen, so we wanted to check up on you. We tried knocking at your door, not wanting to disturb you if you really were physically ill, but that didn't do anything." "And the window?" you interrupted him, casting your eyes downward again at the rude gesture. But Arthur continued, with no offense taken "That was Dazai. He was checking up on you a lot. In his own way." Arthur smiled sadly "Today, I had enough. Something was telling me you needed help. And I'm glad I listened to my instinct." he smiled at you and you felt your dry lips lift up ever so slightly. You were found when you needed it the most, it seemed.

After Arthur dried you off and helped you put on fresh clothes, he told you Sebas made a nutritious meal for you that wouldn't upset your stomach. He also suggested it would do you good to get out of your room for at least a little while and eat it in the kitchen. Seeing the panic in your eyes, he rushed to assure you "You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to." And so you nodded.

The mansion seemed awfully quiet. There was no one in the halls, no sounds from either corner of the building. On your slow trek to the kitchen, you passed Mozart. The musician didn't say anything, but his lips melted from their usual stern frown to a warm smile and you couldn't help but to start crying again. Athur sat down with you on the cold ground of the hallway, pulling you onto his lap and rocking you back and forth until you felt good enough to walk again. Mozart was nowhere in sight.

You found out that Sebas made you a delicious soup, one with enough vegetables and some meat, the broth strong enough to get you up on your feet in no time. You ate slowly and savoured every spoonful. You suddenly realised how much you've missed eating good food. After your meal was done and Arthur washed your bowl and spoon in silence, he slowly sat down next to you. "How are you feeling?" he asked carefully, knowing that you were nowhere near out of the deep end yet, but desperately hoping his efforts weren't for naught. "Better. Fuller." you answered simply. After another beat of comfortable silence, where you soaked up the sun pouring in through the windows, the writer asked again "Would you like to go back to your room?" You pursed your lips. Suddenly, the idea of your bed and the stuffy room you hid yourself away in sounded horrible. But he comfortable, fluffy clothes and full stomach were pullig at your eyelids again, sleep threatening to take over. "My room it is, then?"

Arthur piped up and you nodded. Before you knew it, you were scooped up bridal style by the vampire, feeling his soft lips on your hairline "Rest, love. I've got you." Soon, you were in a room that smelled of coffe and cologne with a hint of ink. Once again, you wriggled under the covers, these ones feeling much fresher than yours, as you succumbed to sleep once again. But this time, you weren't alone.

Not you posting this just as I forced myself to study for an upcoming exam...

I was so giddy to read this, I keot putting it further and further away, because I had things to do, but I couldn't stop the anticipation in me.

And oh my god, I loved this so much. My eyes sting as well now, good lord. The reader's thoughts are something I am very very familiar with, as well as the lack of motivation to even seem ok enough to communicate properly with anyone. The doubt of deserving Silco's affection hit especially hard.

And the way he is firm in his gentle words and affirmations? Telling the reader the awful thoughts produced by their mind are just lies, leaving no room for discussion? The way he does so much to help with so little words and few actions? The little teasing jokes towards the end, the way he doesn't hesitate to keep them close at their worst? Now I'm just making myself emotional thinking about it, fucking hell.

I loved this. And I can jever thank you enough for this, I never would have expected you to post this the same day I sent in the ask. But thank you, so much. You have no idea how much it helped. I really needed something like this.

Hiiiii! I absolutely love your work (as you may have noticed, but idk if I was vocal enough about it 🤔).

I saw you were answering asks with scenarios with Silco and I was thinking...I've been kind of down in the dumps lately and I'm really interested in your take how Silco would confort his s/o in such a situation. I live for hurt/comfort and it helps me tremendously and I feel like there is a criminak lack of such fics with Silco, but if you don't feel inspired, that's completely ok! Again, I really love everything you write, have a great day!

Thank you, Robin, for the request! And thank you for all your kind words today in my DMs. My heart is overflowing with all the love and support I've received today.

To be loved

AO3 link

Word count: 1.8k

Beta reader: none

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, established relationship, depression, fluff, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, angsty with a happy ending

One more bad day after a series of bad days leaves you feeling numb and dejected. Getting out of bed seems an impossible task. But thankfully, your partner Silco knows exactly what you need to get you out of your funk.

You lay in bed, staring at the clock on your nightstand. You’ve been awake for almost an hour, but haven’t worked up the nerve to get out from underneath the covers. The long nights and cold temperatures have been doing a number on your mood, making it harder and harder for you to find the will to do anything.

Your partner stirs behind you, lifting the sheets off himself as he gets out of bed before gently placing them back down to start his routine. The man is a machine; awake and up, ready to start the day without so much as a stretch or a yawn. More and more, you find yourself growing envious of his ability to get going so easily while your mood continues to plummet with each passing week.

Silco makes his way around the bed. On his way to the bathroom, he crosses your line of vision just as a sigh pushes its way out of your mouth. He pauses, turning to find you awake.

“Morning,” he hums.

“Mmm,” you hum back noncommittally. 

Immediately, his brow furrows and concern paints his features. He moves to sit next to you, a hand draped gently over your shoulder.

“Everything okay, love?”

His voice is so soft. 

Why is it so soft? And for whom? You?

You bury your head in your pillow, hiding your face, feeling undeserving of the gentleness Silco has shown—and continues to show—you.

His thumb rubs a tender line along your arm. When he speaks, his voice is filled with understanding, a familiarity that only comes from knowing someone deeply—intimately—for a long time.

“Another down day?”

You nod your head, face still buried in the pillow.

He shifts on the bed to get closer to you, bringing his hand up to your head. Long fingers work themselves into your hair, pads of his fingers gently massaging your scalp in small circles.

“Do you want your usual?”

You turn your head, one eye looking at him through your periphery before meekly whispering into the pillow, “Yes, please.”

He continues to stroke your hair, looking at you with those beautiful mismatched eyes.

“Can you wait a moment while I get ready?”

You offer the smallest of nods. He offers you the softest of smiles.

“Okay.” He leans down, bringing his lips to the crown of your head before speaking into your hair. “I won’t be long.”

The mattress squeaks as his weight leaves it. You bury your face into the pillow again and listen to the sound of the bathroom door opening then closing. As Silco starts to take a shower, you turn to face his side of the bed, scooting into the middle to chase the remnants of warmth he had left in his stead.

Has it always been this hard?

You curl in on yourself, pulling the sheets around you like a cocoon. As if it will envelope and surround you, as if it could protect you from everything. 

Could everything just… please… slow down?

If the world could just pause, give you a chance to catch up. If time could still so you could get your bearings. It would be so nice.

But living in Runeterra—and especially in the Undercity—doesn’t afford anyone that luxury. It’s always go, go, go. Don’t stop. Don’t slow down. Don’t look back. Just keep moving forward.

It’s exhausting.

You don’t know how long you lay in bed as Silco finishes his shower, your thoughts crawling along as if wading through drying cement. You briefly drift back to sleep for a bit before the sound of the bedroom door opening stirs you from your restless slumber. When you turn to the source of the sound, you find Silco—makeup done, hair styled, and neatly dressed as usual—standing in the doorway holding a tray.

“Here,” he says before making his way to you.

With a grunt, you sit up just as Silco places the tray over your lap, the small wooden legs on either side of you. On it is a mug of hot tea and a plate of leftover Poro Snax from the night before. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, taking the mug and cradling it in your hands, bringing it up so that the warmth from the tea kisses your face. You take a sip and hum in approval, the honey a welcomed sweetness on your tongue. And sweeter still is Silco, moving to sit next to you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you to himself.

“Take as long as you need,” he whispers, squeezing your shoulder. “And if that means all day, that’s fine, too.”

You set the mug down and give Silco a tired smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Still, it’s the most you can offer him in your current state. He leans down and kisses your forehead before cradling your jawline with his hand. 

“I’ll be right through there—” his eyes flick to the office door and back, “if you need anything.”

You nod but can’t help the long sigh that escapes through your nose.

Eyes cast down to the tray below you, your vision blurry as your eyes unfocus. Your eyes flutter closed as you try—you really do try—to get a grip.

But it’s too hard.

Everything’s too hard.

Just being is too hard right now.

You sit like this for a moment, stuck in time. Feeling too much and not enough all at once. Feeling like you’re spiraling out of control and yet unable to move. Then—

Silco shifts beside you, taking the pillow from behind you and tossing it to his side of the bed before taking its place. Long legs come around your hips as he slots himself behind you, his chest pressed into your back as his arms move to wrap around your middle in an embrace.

Ruined cheek pressed to your temple, you can hear his soft breaths in your ear, feel his steady heartbeat against your back. You melt into the touch, sagging into the mattress and him as you cross your arms over his, fingers quick to find his and lace together.

“I love you,” he hums into your hair. “Good day. Bad day. I will always love you.” He gently squeezes your middle. “You know that, right?”

You take in a deep breath and feel a familiar sting behind your eyes. Throat bobbing, you nod once.

“This is just a moment in time,” he whispers, bringing his chin up to rest on your head. “It will pass. Like it always does.”

He leans to the side to better look into your face. You turn toward him, feeling on the verge of tears; a strange mixture of despair and relief welling within you. As you look into the sincere eyes of your partner, you wonder how you ever got so lucky.

To be loved.

And not just by anyone, but by Silco.

“You’re strong,” he whispers into the space between you. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but you are.”

Your eyes flutter and your mouth presses together as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Without missing a beat, Silco’s hand is wiping it away.

“You are beautiful. And clever. And a brilliant light to everyone around you.” His eyebrows curl inward and he shakes his head. “And don’t you dare think for a second you are anything but.”

“But—” you croak out, choking down a sob.

Silco’s quick to cut you off, bringing both hands to cradle your face, willing you to look at him.

“Shhhh, no, no, no.” 

The ocean green and volcanic orange of his gaze is almost overwhelming, piercing into not just your eyes but into your very being. You’ve never met someone who so thoroughly sees you. 

“I know what is going through that head of yours and they’re all lies.” 

He presses his forehead into yours, his good eye closing. 

“You are not a burden. You do deserve every bit of affection I give you.”

His good eye opens, staring intently at you.

“Trust me and listen to me when I say: you’re going to be okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing more tears out. Mouth a thin line, you’re helpless to stop the broken sob as it rips itself from your throat.

“Come here,” Silco coos as he wraps his arms around your shoulders.

You turn toward him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as his hands smooth down your back, rubbing up and down your spine. Clinging to his vest, you let out a cry that was weeks in the making. 

You had held it in for so long. You thought that you had powered through it, pushed it down deep enough that it wouldn’t come back. But as Silco continues to hold you and your throat begins to burn from your pathetic wails, you know that this moment—this breakdown—was inevitable. It wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

You’re just thankful you have Silco to guide you through it.

As your tears slow and your breathing steadies, you feel a sense of relief wash over you. While the numbness you had been feeling recently still lingers, you feel as if a little bit of the weight has lifted. 

You pull back, bringing one hand up to wipe your eyes as you laugh pathetically.

“I probably look like such a mess.”

Silco shrugs.

“A bit,” he teases before reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief to wipe your face. “But you’re my mess.”

That gets a small giggle out of you and you melt back into his arms, sighing.

“Thank you, Silco.”

He presses a kiss to your head, stroking your back.

“Any time, my love.”

Rejuvenated, you turn back to your breakfast. Silco carefully untangles himself from you, looking down at his ensemble as he gets to his feet.

“I’m impressed. You managed to not get a single tear on me.”

You take a bite out of the now-cold pastry, shrugging. “I try.”

He leans down for one more kiss, a small peck on your lips. 

“Take your time,” he hums, making his way to the door that leads to his office. With a nod, he gestures to the food in your hand. “And you better eat every last bite of that.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. Alone with your thoughts and your Poro Snax, you take a deep steadying breath.

Yesterday sucked. And the day before it sucked. And the day before it.

You take another bite, savoring the sweet flavor. Warmth blossoms in your chest, one you hadn't felt in a while. You take one more deep breath, eyes turning to the large window overlooking the Lanes. 

But I have a better feeling about today.

A/N: I have written so much smut lately, writing hurt/comfort is so refreshing. Also ngl I made myself tear up a bit while writing this and getting into the reader headspace. As a depression girlie myself, I've def had these sorts of days.

Taglist: @averagecrastinator @mazikomo @writingmysanity @insult-2-injury @ariaud @jennrosefx @ins0mniac-whack @steponmesilco  @sherwood-forests @leave-me-alone-silco @givemebeansnow @aeryntheofficial @dreamyonahill @lostbunn @eurydicethesage @thepineapplesimp @whatisafandom @violet-19999 @juicboxd @sageandberries-png @delta-is-here @mutedwordz @fly-like-egyptian-musk @jennithejester @mrsdelirium @witheringblooddemon

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I know he is the king of softness but how about some 🚨 nasty where abe is dom, like we were teasing him so bad holding his hand all over a meeting and having nasty thoughts of him taking control that after the meeting he show us how rough and dom he can be, that he leaves us not being able to walk. I AM BLUSHING HARD RIGHT NOW THINKING OF IT

dom abe ♡ sends u to the ER?!⁎⁺˳✧༚

I love this prompt because I actually recently got into reading the BPRD comics, and our dearest agent sapien is not as much of an awkward nerdy softie mess in that depiction :’) That man is so FOINE y’all I’m obsessed..

warnings: biting, fingering, ambiguous reader parts lol, pinning reader down, it's pretty feral with a subtle prey/predator undertone, could be read as cnc, lil suggestion of facefucking, and ofc.. I love talking about his cum ♡

So your hand brushes his during the debrief, and he innocently lifts it up to cover yours, lightly going back and forth over your knuckles and the back of your hand. His cold fingers juxtapose your warm skin, but you smile at the subtle gesture of affection. Then, your mind wanders.. to other times when his body temperature juxtaposed yours.

You notice his breathing pause for a moment, out of the corner of your eye, and you actively realize where your mind has wandered to. When he nervously exhales and draws his hand away, you double down and move your hand to his under the table, discreetly. You also lean over to rest your head on his shoulder, casually. It’s not a startling display of affection, especially because it was only HB, Liz, and Johann present at this particular meeting, but it also meant that Abe was unable to move away without drawing more attention to the two of you.

With Johann droning on and on, you let your mind wander, telepathically insisting that Abe not be shy about getting a little rougher with you. You’re an agent of the BPRD, you can handle a bit more forcefulness… To this, his eyes get a little shifty, side-eyeing you the best he can (he is literally fish-eyed) and clearing his throat, before trying to keep up with the topic at hand. He diverts the attention to you, in a vain attempt to put a pause on your dirty thoughts.

“Oh, yeah.. Kraus is onto something with that theory, I think the pieces do fit together into some kind of key,” you pip up, moving your hand off of Abe’s to brush against his bare thigh. He mentally curses himself for not wearing full length pants that day. As you casually draw little circles over the top of his leg, moving ever closer to the inside of his thigh, you continue, “and the key has to fit a lock..” you raise your eyebrow, as you picture a completely different kind of key and lock in your mind.

Abe snorts, sitting upright and putting his hand over yours to stop that incessant caressing, and clears his throat gently before adding his input to the conversation.

With that, your mind goes wild; It’s full of thoughts of him being more stern with you, suggesting that he should leave some marks for you to cover up, maybe putting you in your place so you don’t dare distract him during the next meeting, maybe making it so you are the one that has to hold in your moans this time around, the list goes on and on..

And finally, finally, when the meeting is adjourned, you happily stand and bid the team good evening, walking off down the halls back to your living space, not knowing that you’re in for a long night ahead..

You unwind a little bit, not thinking too much about how badly you teased him. The thought of apologizing for your misbehaviour crosses your mind, and you decide to pay your partner a visit in the library before you turn in for the night. He did furiously avoid your gaze as he left the meeting room, and only nodded politely and agreeably when  you said you’d see him later.

As usual, you knock lightly on the door before entering, and you’re surprised to not see him anywhere. “Abe..?” You call out, walking in slowly, ducking your head between the aisles and shelves to look for him. He’s clearly not in his tank, but you don’t see him anywhere else.

Suddenly, the record player starts up, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Oh, I was looking for you—OH!” Your brief moment of calm is interrupted by a cold, firm grip around your wrist, as you’re pressed up against the book shelf by none other than your sweet and loving partner.

“What had gotten into you during the debrief? Were you possessed or something?” He starts, incredulously. A jumbled reply falls from your lips, but you’re still in a bit of shock to defend yourself at this point. You manage to stutter a meek, “I’m sorry?” but that’s followed by a sharp gasp as you feel his hands running down your back and groping at your ass, with the other gripping your chin and turning your head to face him.

“I’m afraid that’s not adequate reasoning for such unprofessional behaviour, my dear,” he blinks at you, clicking his tongue in disapproval as he brushes against your sensitive spots harshly. That’s when you realize he’s definitely going to make you regret asking him to be rough with you (he couldn’t if he tried, but anyway…)

"If you're going to act like such a.. brat," he bites down hard at the junction of your neck, and pulls away as you squeal. “Oh?” He would have an eyebrow raised if he had eyebrows, but the tone of his voice says it all. “Going to make a fuss now that I’m testing your bold claims, love?” He frowns, almost mockingly. You feel the heat building in your face, and you fumble your words as you try to explain that you were just messing with him. This doesn’t stop him from shaking his head and pressing you back up against the wall, littering your neck and shoulders with bites and sucking harshly at the surface wounds, licking and lapping at your hot flesh while you squirm and slap a hand over your lips to quiet your sounds.

He will catch on and replace your hand with his, and every delicious little mewl he draws from you reverberates right into his palm, and it nearly sends him into a frenzy. He uses his lanky frame to his advantage as he turns you around and presses himself up against you. “You know well enough what you do to me,” he mumbles, rubbing you through your shorts as one hand brushes up under your shirt to grope at your chest and pinch at your nipples, “and to abuse that power.. oh, your heart is racing,” he notes, almost with a hint of amusement in his tone, as he roughly pulls your shorts down just enough to swipe a finger across your warmth. “and.. so wet, huh?”

He grips your shoulder and forces you to bend over for him as he wets and slips a digit or two inside of you, curling it to brush against your sweet spot. “I guess the feeling is mutual, hm?” He teases as he fingerfucks you while you grip the edge of the bookshelf, biting down on your lip as you struggle to contain your noises.

“Ah ah ah, keep it down.. in the library,” he leans over just to whisper that in your ear, mock scolding you and lifting your shirt up to slip the hem of it between your teeth, punctuating his comment with a soft bite to your earlobe and chuckling when you whine and try to pull away. You’re just showing him how fun you are to play with, and it unlocks a new fascination within him.

You get to decide just how many orgasms he chooses to wring out of you until he deems it appropriate to push your shoulders down and listen to your sweet garbled and muffled begging while he rails you from behind, a few fallen magazines being pushed aside as you shake under him like a thoroughly fucked out mess. It was mind-blowing, simply put.

How do you feel about tasting the mix of you two together? If you’re open to it, and he’s feeling extra offended by what you thought of during the meeting, I hope you enjoy getting held down and facefucked by your darling fishman while he coos and shushes you and praises you for taking it so well. He runs out of degrading words really quickly, actually, and can only continue to praise you because he knows that you’re enjoying the rough treatment, and he thinks it’s incredibly sexy to use you like this. You end up literally covered in his cum, with it leaking out of you and painting your face and chest and lower stomach and back, because he was.. pent up, so to speak, and he feels so guilty after he’s done with you.

“Oh dear.. oh my goodness, are you okay?” He finally asks, full of worry and chest heaving from exertion as he fusses over your limp form. You nod weakly with a content smile, stifling a giggle, your nose scrunching happily as you bask in your afterglow. He's so gentle with you afterwards, apologizing for fear of taking it too far, but you reassure him that you had a great time, despite your protests.

It isn’t until a few hours later (post bath and diligent aftercare, ofc) that you realize you’re sore in places you’ve never been sore before, and he may have bitten harder than he thought in some spots. Needless to say, you refused to pull anything at the next meeting because you were too busy feeling sorry for your poor bruised and bandaged self. It was totally worth it, though.

Alastor Prompt Game

Hello there! I'm Dottie (aka dot), and welcome to the first prompt game here on this blog :)

If you've never seen/participated in a prompt game before, not to worry! They are very easy to understand, and this one in particular is meant to be accessible to everyone.

Here's some general information about the prompt game:

This prompt game will run for one week beginning on 02/19/2024 (when this post goes up).

The game will be for Alastor x Reader requests only, but there are no restrictions on what type of x reader fic is requested, so both romantic and platonic are welcome.

With that being said, here's how to "play":

1. Using this spinner, let fate decide the word count for your prompt request. 2. Select a prompt. Feel free to use your own or submit/gain inspiration from either of the prompt lists posted to this blog, which can be found here and here. 3. Send in your prompt and any information you'd like me to know about it alongside the randomly generated word count number you spun for previously.

Happy requesting <3

The Blood Runs Thicker (part 14) ~vampire!William Afton x F! Reader~

~*Zombie noises as I crawl from the Christmas grave and back into university*~

Tag-List; @ruh--roh-raggy @randymeeksisafinalgirl @sleepy---head @robin-the-enby @hungrhay @likoplays @slxsher-whxre @nicolezghostz @spiderlilytengu

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

CW:Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 50's), graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, mention of dead children, anaemia. Mentions of torture. Drama. Possessive behaviour. Very, very heavy smut. Cunnilingus, fingering, riding, mating press.

William pinned you so easily, barely using any strength behind his grip as he felt the already slick fabric of his pants become damper with your friction against his thick thigh, breaking the kiss as he grabbed your wrists and chuckled as you yelped when he wrenched them behind your back, forcing your back to arch into his chest as his head settled into the crook of your neck. Muffling his ragged breath with the warmth against your skin.

His free hand moved up onto one thigh, stroking the warm skin, pausing at the knot of scar tissue he had made before continuing, slipping his rough fingers under the hem of his shirt on your body and groping at your hip, slowing the roll of your hips against his as he planted soft kisses against the delicate skin and fluttering pulse.

Your fingers strained to touch him, touch anything as your heat burned against his thigh, the warmth of his breath against your neck making little whimpers of desperation fall from your lips. Some might have called you a monster for enjoying a murderer in the way you were, but you didn't care. If this was the punishment you received for leading a life to it's end, then you were all too happy to lead more astray and bow your head to the dark. Legs trembling either side of his thigh, you tipped your head back in pleasure as you felt a small knot of pleasure building in your stomach, trembling in his iron grip. There was no doubt that you were at his mercy.

Cold air hit your skin all too fast as it took you a second to register the sound of ripping fabric, gasping as you felt all too hot and freezing all at once as William balled up what was left of his t-shirt and threw it somewhere into the room. His silver eyes scanned you hungrily, drawing lazy lines across your body, watching your chest rise and fall with each shaking breath, the faint flutter of your heart visible above your left breast. He twisted his body to lay you across the bed, his predatory eyes never leaving your body before his hands rested on your thighs, squeezing them tightly as a wicked smile crossed his face.

Your brow furrowed as he planted nipping kisses across your neck and collarbones, kissing down the valley of your sternum and then over each breast, gasping loudly as his teeth found your nipple, biting at the sensitive bud as his thick fingers pushed into your dripping pussy, making your back arch into him as he set a brutal pace after only a short pause to let you adjust to him. His hips rocked against the air slightly as he felt your slick walls clenching around his fingers, the burning heat to rival his own, the lewd sound of him moving your slickness meeting his ears like music as he let out a possessive growl. Making sure that the nipple in his mouth was thoroughly tender and paid attention to before he moved onto the other, eliciting another sweet moan.

William Afton, even in un-life, could never get enough of hearing the sweet noises people made. But this was the best sound he had encountered since his transformation, and he wanted more of it. More of you.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter and tighter as he spread your sensitive walls, only worsened as he used his thumb to bump the sensitive nub of your clit with each curling motion of his fingers, as his trying to meet his fingertips through your body. A whimper of disappointment left your body as he removed them though, and your eyes finally wandered to his smug expression as he sat back on his heels, the bed groaning in protest beneath you as he seemed to inspect the mess you made under the low light before he slowly pushed the digits into his mouth. Moaning loudly as he tasted you against his skin, your cheeks heating up as you watched him clean you off of him with his tongue before his eyes opened again, pupils blown out as smirked at you.

"If I'd realised that something this sweet was in my bed this whole time," he growled, the low tone raising the hair on the back of your neck as you found your gaze glued to him, watching as he practically ripped off his t-shirt and threw in somewhere else. "I might have helped myself sooner."

His broad chest as lined with pink scars, silvery sheen to the new skin as his chest rose and fell with the deep breaths he was taking. The dark hair smattered across his chest tinted with a little grey as your eyes naturally wandered down his body, following the trail across his stomach and following where you imagined it led to as the waistband of his pants got in the way. William chuckled as he realised where you were looking, palming the tent in his pants as your cheeks heated up, looking down at you on display for him.

"You'll get your taste soon enough bunny, I'm not done with you yet."

For a man of his age and stature, such fluid movements shouldn't have been natural, but they were somehow and you found yourself reminded of a big-cat as he hooked his arms around the backs of your thighs, rough fingertips biting into your hips as his tongue licked a stripe up your folds. A drawn out moan escaping you as your hand instinctually moved into his hair, holding him loosely as he hummed against your sensitive skin. Long tongue continuing it's path as he repeatedly warmed your already slick folds with his tongue, making sure to catch your pearl with each motion with the tip of his tongue, enjoying far too much the way that your body jolted with pleasure beneath his ministrations.

With almost feverish abandon, his tongue pressed between your folds and opened your walls for him, making you moan more as his grip on your hips forced your back to arch for him. Wincing as his nails left crescents in your supple skin, matching the bruises he was sure to leave behind as his tongue invaded you. The vibration of his moans moving through his tongue and into you, stoking the fire inside as your fingers curled tighter into his hair, holding William closer as he managed to locate the soft, spongey texture inside where your eyes rolled back and breathing hitch rapidly, only serving to encourage the vampire further as he pressed further into your body. Fangs pressing against your skin and sending a jolt through your body.

The knot wound tighter and tighter, sure that your wetness was spreading over William's lips and into the slightly burning stubble as it rubbed against the inside of your thighs, breathing hard and fast as you chased your high, whimpering William's name as his tongue was joined by one of his thick fingers, focusing on your swollen clit as he used his digits to stretch you open for him. Focused intently on the spots that elicited the whimpers and moans, chasing your high for you.

Coming undone on William's fingers were all too easy, shaking and pulling him close as his name fell from your lips in a prayer-like chant, a thought that amused him greatly as he listened to your pulse pounding through the arteries either side of his head. How easily he would be able to rip life from you in that moment, so vulnerable and weak from your intense orgasm. There was a reason the French name for it translated to 'the little death' after all.

He kept his fingers lazily moving inside you, stroking your clenching, soaked walls as he sat up slightly, licking his lips and your slick off of his face. The smell of you, your taste filled his senses and overwhelmed them as the symphony of your overstimulation filled his ears. Squirming, releasing his hair and gripping the sheets below you as you gazed up at him, eyes welling up with tears as your body tried to squirm away from the pleasure still being forced onto your body, William's predatory grin in the low light sending shivers down to your core.

"William..." You breathed, eliciting a low growl of approval from the man as he slowly pulled his fingers from your trembling body, admiring how your arousal coated them before he reached into his pants, clearly stroking himself under the material and denying you the pleasure of watching him. His breathing turning ragged as his silvery eyes became half-lidded, biting at his own lip for a change as his free hand moved to brush through his salt and pepper hair. Muscles flexing just under the scarred skin.

"Am I going to have to undress myself bunny, or are you going to continue being good for me and touch me?" Voice gravelly and low, dangerous. Full of barely contained nature that could so easily consume you.

You nodded eagerly, shakily bringing yourself onto your knees and trembling fingers struggling with the button and zip of his pants, especially as he continued to stroke himself beneath the taunt material. His breath stirring your hair as your focused on the task before your, roughly shoving them down his hips and your fingers finding the pink scars on his thighs naturally. Raising an eyebrow as William sharply breathed in, his eyes fluttering slightly as you looked up at him. It was your turn to smirk at him, pressing a little closer and letting your stomach brush against his tip, bringing the vampire a small shiver as your warmth was so close to his almost naked body.

"Does it hurt?" You asked, voice laden with lust and watching his gaze turn back to you, lip curling into an animalistic snarl as one hand moved across from his hip, wrapping around his thick, hard cock and replacing his own rough fingers. The softness of your touch, fluttering and light, his cock slicked with your arousal and his own pre-cum making him feel as if his control was slipping more and more by the second. The other touch on his hip pressing and stroking over the sensitive new skin that made your touch feel like it was a deliciously burning fire through him, breathing heavy and ragged as he tried to restrain himself.

"The only thing that hurts right now, little bunny, is how fucking hard I am." he growled, his large hand slowly tracing up the curve of your spine before grabbing the back of your head roughly, making you gasp as you were forced down, no time to breathe and barely enough to brace yourself against his thighs as William shoved his cock into your mouth.

Afton moaned loudly above you, his head tipping back as his hips bucked into your warm mouth. The plush lips wrapped around his shaft felt heavenly, and your tongue exploring him sent spasms of pleasure through his large body. Barely listening to the chokes and slight gags from your smaller, frailer body as he allowed his control to slip slightly, fucking into your mouth with a tight grip on your head, his free hand running back over the curve of your back, rough fingers kneading the flesh of your ass as you struggled to take all of him so suddenly into your mouth. Your soft, muffled, whimpering moans sending tiny vibrations through him and driving him even crazier.

But as sinful and heavenly as your mouth felt, just as you grew used to his taste, the saltiness of his precum coating your tongue as you were pulled free. Silvery strands of saliva connecting his throbbing cock to your puffy lips as he snarled and pressed you back into the mattress, making your yelp as your head was wrenched back and leaving your neck exposed as William crawled ontop of your body. Reaching between you and pressing his cock between your folds, making you whimper and moan as he rutted against you, his tip bumping into your sensitive clit as he used your own arousal as lube to thrust against you. If the image wasn't so ridiculous with a predator about to fuck you, you would have thought of his wild eagerness more like a teenager desperate to fuck his prom-date.

Though all thoughts were quickly wiped from your mind as William roughly shoved his cock into your gummy walls, making your back arch. Your hands finding his back and scratching over the sensitive springlock scars, making William growl as he slowly sunk himself into you, panting with pupils blown out as he looked down at you, the arm supporting his weight by your head trembling slightly with the effort to keep himself above you and not crush you under his larger frame as he hilted himself in your pussy. You could feel how much he throbbed inside of you already, how your walls tugged against him tightly as he rolled his hips into you and felt his tip bumping into your cervix.

"Fuck." He breathed, biting his lip before closed his eyes and hung his head slightly, breathing hard but deeply as he held himself as deeply inside you, trying to reign himself back in as to not break you. "Bunny, I...I'm not sure I am going to last all that long with how you're squeezing me." A dark chuckle falling from him as he managed to bring himself to look at you again, meeting your half-lidded gaze as he held your head back, able to see how your pulse throbbed under the thin skin of your neck, how pleasure had dilated your eyes and turned them into inky, carnal pools.

"Y-You going to give out already, old man?" You teased, earning a growl and a sharp tug on the back of your head as he slowly lowered himself to your body, making you whimper as he stretching you out, somehow cramming more of himself inside of you as his lips skimmed over your neck. Breath burning against you as he brushed his lips against your ear, whispering softly into the shell before his long tongue licked over it and sent a shiver through your body.

"Old man? And here I thought we were being civil, bunny...One might even say I was considering calling you a lover. MY good girl." Thrusting into you sharply and making you gasp as he bumped into you, slowly dragging his length back out of your trembling body, as if threatening to withdraw completely and stop giving you pleasure. Threatening to retie the knot in your stomach, the fire stoked under your skin as you whimpered.

"I'm sorry William, I-I didn't mean....mean to...please don't..." You managed to gasp out, breathing hard and fast as he paused, leaving his tip barely inside your tight, clenching walls. Your body begging him not to leave, to continue stretching and filling you.

"Now that isn't quite a proper apology, is it?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Afton, sir." you breathed, although your regretted it as any breath was knocked from you as William smirked down at you and slammed his hips against yours, hilting himself once more into his prize as his strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close as he rutted into you. Moaning into your ear before his lips found your neck, planting soft, nipping kisses there.

"Good girl. You're mine, bunny. You hear me? Or am I going to fuck you dumb and have to teach you this again?" He asked, though he grinned against you as only his name fell from your lips, mixed in with heavy moans and the sound of shaking, unstable breaths as he claimed you.

The feeling of William stretching your pussy around his thick cock was almost painful, but the pleasure took over your mind and left you gasping as your eyes rolled back into your skull. The lewd sound of him slicking in and out of your wetness filling the room and mixing with your combined moans, your fingers pressing into and scratching at his back, feeling the muscles flex and strain as he fucked you into the motel mattress.

His fangs found your neck, digging in quickly and moaning against your skin as he left your reeling, body shaking as the knot in your stomach tightened again, his fast, deep thrusts hitting all the spots inside you that made you see stars as he sucked on your neck. You swore his teeth scraped against your skin, trying to give you a hickey despite the fact you could feel small pearls of your own blood run from between his lips and down over your shoulder, staining the bedsheet beneath you.

William picked up his pace, feeling how your pussy tightened around him, how hard he was throbbing inside of you already. There was part of him that was glad he was as he was, allowing him a small modicum of control compared to when he had been fully human, although even in his mortality, William Afton had been a very controlled and measured man in most aspects of his life.

The taste of you on his tongue was heady and nothing that he had had before, but something he craved more of whenever he would get the chance. Iron, musk. Blood and sex and salt as your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as he fucked your delicate body. The feeling of your fingers pressing into and touching his back and the scars of the springlocks sending pleasurable shivers through his body, encouraging him to fuck you faster as the force of his hips smacking into yours with the lewd sound of wetness and skin on skin filling the small space and cloying air forcing your legs to raise and hang over his hips. There was part of him that wondered how you'd enjoy feeling him fill you in the mating-press, whether he would even be able to fufill its purpose and there was that dark and twisted part of him, the animalistic side of him that wanted to test it over and over again.

"W-William, sir, I...I'm going to-" A sharp gasp cut through his wandering thoughts, growling against your skin as he rutted into you harder, releasing his grip on your back and your neck and head. Watching the crimson streak against your skin, blooming on the white pillowcase behind your head, hair messily sprawled across it as he snarled. His large hands planting on the back of your thighs and pressing them towards your head, making you gasp and whine as he seemed to plunge deeper into your body. Eyes rolling back and body shaking as your hands relegated themselves to the sheets, unable to focus as your orgasm crept closer and closer as the man above you snapped his hips to yours with an almost animalistic pace.

"Cum for me," He demanded, his forehead wet with effort and focused on watching your expressions and his cock plunging into your depths, angling his hips so that he could hit the spots that made your body spasm and whimper with ecstasy. "Let me fill you up, little bunny."

He growled demands snapped the burning knot in your abdomen, a breathless scream escaping you as your back arched severely. Body spasming and clenching around William, feeling him throb as he fucked you harder through your orgasm, making you see stars and the edges of your vision turn white before he pressed his full weight into you. Growling your name through gritted teeth as he hilted himself inside of you, throbbing hard as he unloaded thick, hot seed deep inside against your bruised and batterer cervix. Hissing, shaking breaths escaping through your gritted teeth, as he felt himself filling you, being milked desperately by your body as your second orgasm ripped through you.

The sudden silence in the room, apart from both your laboured breathing, almost left a ringing in your ears. William being the first to move as he moved his hands from your thighs, wincing slightly although feeling a pang of pride as he saw the fingertip shaped bruises across your delicate skin, planting soft kisses there before he lowered your legs slowly. Feeling how they shook as he lowered himself to you again, remaining inside as he wrapped his arms around you once more, licking up the side of your neck to clean you up and leaving you whimpering softly in the overstimulation of two orgasms and the heady bloodloss.

"You did so good for me bunny...But make an old-man comment like that again and I'll teach you the lesson you deserve." Chuckling darkly as he kissed up your neck and cradled your to him, letting you feel the heat and careful weight of his body as you trembled beneath him.

"I...If that's punishment.. you can punish me anytime." Giggling as he brushed his lips against yours and planted an almost tender kiss there. His grey eyes crinkling slightly as he grinned wickedly.

"Oh, that was far from punishment. That was part of your reward for being such a good little thing for me."

"Part of?"

"I'm more than mortal, bunny," he replied, looking at your raised eyebrow and smiling as he kissed you again, feeling how your lips trembled under his with a sense of primal satisfaction. " and as long as you're good, I plan on giving you far, far more than what we did here."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Can't it be both?"

He remained curled around you as exhaustion hit you, eyes fluttering shut as William buried his face into your neck, breath washing over your skin and his body keeping you warm. Wrapped up in strong arms, knowing that somebody was dead was because of you, and somehow knowing that it was the safest place in the world in that moment in time.

You hoped he wouldn't tired of your own mortality, at least not yet.