#illyah

[ribbonfinale]

Original Artist: Illyah

[turmac]

hey! i saw you do neo commissions? do you have a pricesheet at all bc i'm def super interested in getting something when you're open ^^

standard prices, with these rules:RULES: 1. no nsfw/gore/fanart for non-neo2. please have refs ready for me. (customization is okay)3. pay only after i have accepted your request, i will give you the link then.4. please do not use my art for art galleries/beauty contests etc.5. neopets only, please (however, i will do sketches for non-neopets)any other examples can be found on my main art blog at ayeun-art.

thank you for your interest! <3

[ao3feed-destiel]

Such a Good Boy.

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2eArSYK

by Illyah

Dean came back just as Cas was entering him again, this time far more roughly, gritting his teeth, and snarling. “So pretty, Dean, hanging off my cock like you were made for only that. Such a good little slut.”

Dean moaned loudly, “yes, yes, Cas, be so good for you. I promise.” Feeling his dick leak again at the compliment. “God, Dean, such a little whore. What would your friends think of you now? Bent over like a common slattern, taking it so pretty from an Angel of the Lord, do you think they know how good I give it to you? How I can make you scream with my words alone? Dean was so turned on at this point that he had pre-come running down his thighs, and he wondered if Cas could feel it.

Words: 1916, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Additional Tags: Blow Jobs, Felching, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, Praise Kink, Humiliation kink

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2eArSYK

[ao3feed-destiel]

You, Me, and The Devil Make Three.

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2bvNumo

by Illyah

Dean opened his eyes and the world looked different. In a split second he had billions of years of memories thrust into this head. Memories of human lives, and memories stretching back to the beginning of the universe.

Sam looked over and noticed that Dean had a peculiar look on his face, but brushed it off, seeing as he had just released Satan.

“We need to get out of here.” Dean heard himself saying, it was his voice, but he felt oddly detached from the whole situation. They left the church and headed back to the motel they had been staying in, trying like Hell (ha!) to keep some semblance of chill. He was freaking out. How was he supposed to convince his brother that everything they knew was wrong? That the words of man that had condemned him were fallacy.

This is my first work in this fandom. I'm not really sure how I feel about it. Be gentle.

Words: 1918, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Lucifer (Supernatural), Michael (Supernatural), Castiel, Bobby Singer, Zachariah, Really all the angels, Gabriel, Chuck

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Additional Tags: This is literally nothing but sacreligious self indulgence, Lucifer's Cage, Lucifer got royally screwed, But he's not even mad, Not your father's revelations, The Apocolypse, Lucifer isn't the bad guy, But he's also Dean, And has always been Dean, moderate build, Destiel endgame, Happy Ending, Good Lucifer, Bad Michael

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2bvNumo

[100dow2013]

038. Failure

Finally a day off. Azzy is off doing who-gives-a-crap-what, and I've finally gotten Kanzah off my back. I'm completely beat from a ten night killing spree, so for now it's just me and my bed and no one else. Maybe tomorrow.

So, of course, I get up and poke my head out the door to see what's up.

There's a girl curled up on the floor. She hears the door, looks up at me, then suddenly vanishes.

“Aah, f*ck,” I sigh, remembering dealing with this kid a few times before. “Er, sorry. What was your name again? Eh, Illyah, or something like that?”

She reappears, then, still looking at me. She doesn't say anything, so I come out and sit down next to her, not bothering to put on some pants before I do. I close the door and lean against it.

“So, let me guess. Kanzah's got you down? Told you you're a failure or a worthless piece of sh*t or something?”

She stares at me, and it looks like she's trying to figure out why someone else is bothering to talk to her. I smile disarmingly at her; she flinches and looks away.

“Y- yeah... He's right, though...”

I sigh. I'm all for helping little kids get some self-esteem, but I'm also all for sleeping. Sleeping is good. I like sleeping.

“Listen. Kid. You're not a worthless piece of sh*t. Kanzah's a worthless piece of sh*t. He pretty much gets off on making people feel like sh*t. So don't take him seriously.”

She curls up into a tighter ball. “He's right, though,” she whines. “I am a failure.”

“Why? Because you're not Serial Killer of the Month? Well, sorry, but that title's always going to belong to Azzy. She's practically gotten it tatted onto her forehead.”

“But I was given a job to do, and I didn't do it.”

“Yeah, so? Our job sucks; you deserve to play hookie sometimes.” She doesn't seem to convinced, so I sigh and try to keep up the good attitude. “Hey, next time he gets down on you, just call him a piece of sh*t.”

This gets her to snap her attention back to me. “Wh- what? Why would I...?”

“'Cause. It would be funny. 'Sides, I'm sure he'll know I'm behind it. I'll take the fall; not you.”

“I don't know,” she says and goes back to staring at the ground.

I sigh and stand, stretching. “Well, there's my advice for you. Take it or leave it.”

She doesn't respond, so I retreat back to my room. When I get to bed, I hear her footsteps down the hallway. I smile softly and try to get comfortable. I've done my good deed for the week. Damn kids these days.

[100dow2010]

026. Tears

                “How many jobs did you accomplish today, Illyah?”

                She still doesn’t look at him. She mumbles something, but not even she can hear it, much less understand it.

                “You’ve accomplished zero jobs. You have gotten nothing done in five hours. What have you been doing for five hours?”

                She mumbles something again.

                The boy in front of her stares at her for a moment, before telling her matter-of-factly, “You are worthless.”

                She flinches at these words, taking them to heart. “I’m sorry!” she squeaks, and this time it’s hearable.

                “Go to your room,” the kid commands.

                She nods briskly and flees from his desk, tears trailing off her face and watering the ground beneath her feet. Her mind repeats the words, ‘You’re worthless,’ to her, and each time she audibly responds, “I’m sorry.” After she’s gotten a comfortable distance between her and her boss, she falls to the ground in a heap and buries her face in her knees, allowing the tears fall freely and strongly into her lap.

                After a few minutes of crying, a voice finally breaks into her self-loathing:

                “S**t, kid, if you’re going to cry, do it in your own room.”

                Without looking at the newcomer, she cries, “I’m sorry!” and disappears into thin air.

                The man watching her gives a sharp whistle. “I bet that’s handy,” he laughs. Seeing it’s not persuading her to come back at all, he sits down next to where he thinks she is and says, “Come on out and talk?”

                A few seconds later she reappears, but he can see the reluctance all over her form. “I don’t want to talk,” she says into her legs.

                “Okay, then. I’m always up to talking to myself every once in a while,” he laughs again, eying his companion to see if she makes any movement towards lightening up. She doesn’t. “Well, then, what don’t you want to talk about?”

                She makes a ‘hmph’ sound and turns her head away from him. He sighs.

                “If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. If you want, you can just tell me what to talk about, and I’ll give you the earful of a lifetime.”             

                She slowly turns her head towards him, says, “Kanzah,” as quickly and quietly as possible, and then immediately buries her head back in her lap.

                “Yeah, that explains a lot,” the man laughs. “He can be pretty f**ked up some times. Not to say I’m bitter or anything, though. Of course not. He just manipulates us on a constant basis and tricked me into letting him kill me. Why would I be bitter?

                “You sound bitter,” she points out as she turns to look at the man talking to her.

                He shrugs. “Yeah, I bet I do. But just think: at least he hasn’t killed you yet, right?”

                “I guess…” she says, casting her eyes downward in a manner that shows the man’s comforting isn’t having any beneficial effects.

                “Of course, if you’re working for him, you’ve probably already died. …Sorry. But… you can turn invisible! That’s pretty cool, right?” His uneasy smile makes it obvious to the girl that he has run out of ways to cheer her up. Sighing, he finally says, “Just… don’t let him get to you. Nothing good will come from taking him too seriously, alright?

                “Okay,” she says falteringly as she takes to staring at the ground in front of her.

                “So… you going to stay here for awhile, then?” he asks, his eyes flicking between the girl on the ground and the door to his

                “No, I’ll leave,” she says

                “Thanks. I’ll be seeing you, then, I guess.

                “Yeah,” she says, and the man ducks back into his room. A few minutes later, she drags herself away from her spot on the ground and makes her way to her own room.

[fadingfrance-blog]

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