#◦ ` ･ musings : sweet creature

[ajthecrocodile]

IT’S A RAINBOW OF BILLS! A BILLBOW! RGBILL!!!

The clip of Bill saying YELLOW was all over my FYP and it inspired me…

[meatriarchived]

sometimes i miss my myth-based muses. my gods, my primordials, my demons, my sweet nymphs. my mortal children of deities.

[unhxngxd]

Mercy Addams: Whip me, strangle me, carve your name into my thigh

Also Mercy Addams: *Cries when she breaks a nail*

[regnismemorias]

[ 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙨: 𝙤𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙖 ]

[out-of-heaven-and-hell]

Dia and Summer tag dump

[frehyun]

Cursed Eyes

medusa!hyunjin x fem!reader

warnings: mention of murder, petrification (hyunjin's really sweet i promise) (if I missed anything lmk!)

word count: 2,4k

divider by @kawaii-lau

author's note: this is the first full thing I've written in years and the first time I've published something, so I'm really nervous! i really wanted to get back into writing and actually put myself out there so i guess this is it! i hope someone out there likes this and feel free to let me know what you think :) also not really edited much lol

masterlist | Part 2

Ever since you were a child, the elders in your village weaved incredible and awe-inducing stories about the Gods and their benevolent deeds to those who chose to worship them. Stories of how a child miraculously survived an illness that the village doctor deemed as lethal and incurable, of how a farmer who had lost all his sheep to wolves instead found his fields growing the biggest and most luscious vegetables and fruits that would not only feed his own family but also anyone he chooses to trade with.

All these stories always fascinated you. You found comfort in them, believing that if you were as devoted to your Gods as the other villagers are, you could experience a miracle yourself.

As you grew older, the elders would also entrust you with much darker stories, telling of wars, demons and monsters that could even live amongst men.

There’s humour to be found in thinking about your childhood story times in a moment like this, desperately hiding amongst the broken pillars and bushes that scratched your knees up.

The warm midday sun shone through the crowns of the trees, making the tears streaming down your face glimmer in the light. Your eyes squeezed shut as you heard the hissing of snakes slowly creep closer.

One story was particularly popular amongst the elders and was retold many times over in the years you’ve spent alive. The story of an ethereally beautiful man residing in the nearby woods that could seduce both men and women alike to dare themselves to come closer to his domain. When they came closer however, they would soon realise that there was no new muse or lover to be found, only their demise, as the hissing of snakes swallowed any sound they could make before their entire body was encased in solid stone.

“You’re the first one to hide for so long, I have to say I’m impressed” – the sultry voice somewhere behind you said.

The delicate steps atop the shattered stone tiles came ever closer before halting. You’re sure he must be directly behind your pillar, your ears precise as ever.

“Unfortunately, I’m in no mood to hunt for an awfully long time today. Playtime’s over, sweetheart.”

A surprisingly warm hand snaked its way around your arm, yanking you upwards and into a solid body.

“It’s always the same with you” – the creature whispered before two strong, but slender hands cupped your face, yet you made no effort to defend yourself.

A long sigh left his lips as he gazed into your eyes, waiting for the curse to set in and turn you into a statue he could add to his collection. You would be one of the prettiest he had in his garden.

Yet even as the minutes passed and the sun started to set, nothing happened.

No stone that would slowly destroy and take over your delicate skin, starting from your eyes and outwards. No last words that were whispered into his embrace as his gaze slowly shifted from anger to sorrow.

You stood solid but softly against him, keeping your eyes locked on him but unfocused, he noticed.

The man’s brows furrowed and his grip on you softened.

“Tell me”, he broke the silence suddenly, making you jump in his hold, “is this a test? Has the village concocted something to counter this curse?”

His tone was curious, maybe a bit irritated, yet his voice wavered. It was almost as if the creature that everyone in your village was scared of whatever answer you would give him.

His eyes flitted between yours nervously, studying your face for any sort of sincerity, a sign for him that you were not here to ultimately bring him to his demise like all the others. He was tired. He didn’t want you to be just like all the others. The gorgon did not know how many more statues he could look at every day before his heart finally broke apart and the strength to continue on with this life would leave him.

You were confused at the question. Why did he sound so…sad? Was this really the monster that your village was so afraid of? If he was, why didn’t he kill you already?

It was true that your village had unceremoniously dumped you into the woods and gave you the mission of finding out whether you were immune to the monster’s curse. Seeing as you are still alive, you think you accomplished that mission. However, you didn’t drink any potion or ate anything extraordinary that could counteract whatever this monster was capable of. For some reason, you didn’t want to lie to him.

“Yes”, you breathed and you felt him tense up, his fingernails digging into your arms again, so you quickly continued, “but I don’t know why I’m… I didn’t want to.”

“You didn’t want to?”

You shook your head.

“I’m different from them, so they wanted to test their theory that I might survive an encounter with you and, I guess, use that knowledge against you.”

He let go of you, taking a few steps away from you to create a protective distance between the two of you. His soft footsteps resounded throughout the ruins you were standing in. He was pacing, you noted.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I really don’t”, you had hoped you could soothe his nerves – preserve your own life a little bit longer. Your panic from earlier had already dissipated and was replaced with an uncertainty as to how to deal with this situation. The monster that had plagued your village for years, terrified children, urged parents to strictly tell their offspring to never go near the woods, was pacing nervously in front of you, because you were a threat to him.

Hyunjin was too busy thinking of every single possibility, every single choice he could make and every consequence that could come from it to notice you approaching him. When your hand collided clumsily with his bicep his eyes flitted back to you.

That’s when some of the things about you made some sense, he thought as he looked into your eyes properly for the first time.

You weren’t really looking at him. You haven’t been for the entire time he’s been talking to you, but he was too consumed by his own weird mixture of fear and anger to notice anything about you.

Huh.

You were blind.

Is that what made you practically immune to him? Whoever gazed into his alluring eyes would slowly turn to stone. That’s how it’s always been. But you were clearly different. A threat. Someone he should take and destroy before anyone else finds out how to circumvent his curse and hurts him again. And yet he wavered as your soft fingers curled around his arm not to possess, hurt or take from him but simply holding him as if he would break if you dug your fingers too deep into his flesh.

Something in his fragile heart shattered.

You weren’t really planning on staying with him. Not really. But something shifted in his demeanor towards you, he seemed softer when he gently took your hand and told you to trust him as he guided you inside of the ruins.

“You know”, he starts, and you startle a bit, “you’re the first one that doesn’t try to run. Or hurt me.”

Your heart aches at the admission. For some reason that goes against your survival instincts, you squeeze his hand in silent support, too afraid to speak up and say something wrong that would put him back into a frenzy.

“Are you not afraid?”

“Not anymore.”

He hums and it’s a pleasant tone. Soft and melodic and you want to hear more of his voice.

“What’s your name?” – you cautiously ask.

“Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin”, you test his name on your tongue and decide it’s a good one. “That’s a pretty name. Mine’s Y/N.”

He lets out a soft ‘oh’ as if he didn’t expect you to tell him your own name or the compliment. Or both.

Hyunjin is aware you cannot really see what he’s showing you, but he would like to do it anyway. That’s how you two find yourselves wandering around the garden that he so meticulously kept near the ruins where you first found him. He tells you of the flowers and vegetables that grow in certain areas that he takes care of. But he also tells you, in a much more careful and anxious tone, about the statues of people who tried to take his home or his life in the past.

It should scare you. He’s essentially killed all these people. You should run. But where would you even run to? Where could a blind girl whose village decided she was expendable go? And even if you did make it back to the village unharmed – you’re sure Hyunjin would not harm you, even if he knew where you were fleeing to – you would either have to make them believe the monster did not show up to take the willing sacrifice or sell Hyunjin out and lead him to his eventual death.

The gentle monster in front of you broke you out of your thoughts with a sigh.

“I also take care of all the statues… the people here. It’s not easy to keep the stone clean but it’s the least I can do for them until someone finds out how to break them free. I hope they like where I placed them.”

At his words you cautiously reached out a hand towards where Hyunjin was speaking to and were soon met with warm stone. It was pleasantly warm. The kind of warmth you experience on a beautiful, sunny day.

“I’m sure they do. I hope they know you’re not entirely at fault for what happened to them. You were only trying to protect yourself.”

A soft hissing sound came from Hyunjin’s direction, and he slightly jumped, murmuring something in a scolding tone seemingly directed at no one.

The man sighed again.

“Do you mind meeting someone else?” – he finally whispered.

You tilted your head at the question, wondering if he had someone like him living here.

At your hesitant nod, he leaned slightly towards you and soon after something you were entirely sure was a snake softly touched your cheek.

“This…um, is my hair...?” - he sounded as if he wasn’t quite sure of that himself as he said it. “They’re friendly, though!”

You giggled at his panicked state, reaching out to to gently pet the snake that had braved its way towards you. It was surprisingly warm and friendly. Maybe from his own body warmth?

Experimentally you lifted your hand to reach towards Hyunjin himself, reaching out to lay your hand against the side of his neck and although he jolts at the sudden touch, he soon relaxes in your hold and lets you caress him. A soft sigh escaped his lips as you cradle his cheek and he chases your touch as you move to lift your hand away, so you decided to keep it there, holding him. A small smile appeared on your face and Hyunjin thinks in this moment that you were the most beautiful thing to grace his cursed eyes.

Does he even deserve this kind of gentleness? Someone to pick up the pieces of his scarred and shattered heart and put it back together until he could allow himself to feel safety and softness?

Maybe he deserved to be selfish like this.

It had been a couple of days since you and Hyunjin started spending your time together, having decided that keeping you around was safer for the two of you. When you voiced your concerns over other villagers trying their best to take him down again, and potentially you by extension, he waved your concerns away, assuring you that he was more than capable of protecting the two of you, given his already existing track record of living through every single encounter with one of the so-called ‘brave warriors’.

Living with Hyunjin was better than you could’ve imagined. The forest was vast, and your hometown wasn’t the only village that resided at the ends of it.

Hyunjin eventually decided to tell you that there were only two villages that were actively trying to take down the evil that he was. The other two revered him and regularly gave him an abundance of food and other things as sacrifices, so they could continue to live in his good graces.

He was incredibly thankful to them, he told you as you two sat upon one of the stones that made up the broken temple that he lived in, the two of you enjoying a late lunch made up of a variety of fruits and cheese.

“I don’t really need to hunt for myself or think about stealing to sustain myself. I’m really glad that not everyone runs after me with spears and bows in hand just because of the way I was born” – his hand came to rest near yours on the sun-warmed stone and you desperately wanted to stretch your fingers to touch his.

“Did nobody ever offer to take you in? Or accept you as one of the villagers? They do seem to at least care an awful lot about you if they give you this much food every week.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Your hand eventually came to rest over his. You weren’t sure if it was for your comfort or for his. When he didn’t move away and simply hummed under his breath, you became emboldened and properly took his hand into yours, tracing idle patterns into the back of it.

He moved his body around so that your legs were touching and Hyunjin wished for nothing more than to grab you by your waist and have you sit on his lap to hold you close.

“You’re a lot prettier than the flowers I keep here.”

“Oh yeah?” – you giggled, also taking his other hand into yours.

“Mhm. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Have you seen many?”

“Does it matter?” – he grinned boyishly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering a second too long by your cheek.

You pouted at him for his vague answer, your jutted lips a perfect invitation for a kiss that Hyunjin doesn’t feel like refusing. He leans forward while his snakes purposefully start reaching out towards you as well, snuggling against the sides of your head. His plump lips touch yours in a shy chaste kiss, his arms encircling your waist as he pulls you closer against his body.

In the warm afternoon sun, you held a monster’s heart in your hands and promised to keep it safe.

[dewdropdinosaur]

Kinktober Day 23: Breeding

Summary: Alastor hates October, postively abhors it due to his more...animalistic inclinations. Luckily for him, you just so happen to be near by and smell divine. Warnings: P in V sex, breeding kink, ruts, possesive, ownership, marking, cum, reader has a vagina, etc. MDNI, 18+. You're responsible for your own media consumption. Kinktober Mention of the Day: @kewpikayo GO CHECK THEM OUT!!! Love you my kew!

It’s the middle of October. Skeletons and cobwebs line the walls, orange and black posters of all kinds hang from balcony’s, and Charlie’s excitement over the possible bond through the upcoming holiday was unmatched. All the resident’s of the Hazbin Hotel, despite some occasional hesitence, join in on the festive spirit. Except for Alastor. Even a creature as powerful as he could not escape the cycles of instinct. Alastor found himself in an uncomfortable predicament during this supposed festive month: he was in rut, a state that left him feeling restless and agitated.

Hiding away in his lavish room, adorned with vintage radio equipment and eerie memorabilia, he tried to ignore the urge that pulled at him. His usual confidence was replaced with a sense of vulnerability, and he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone discovering him in such a state. This time of month had always been a chore, normally he could try to wait it out. Hiding himself away till it passes and it normally does. But not this time. His cock strained against his trousers, that familar uncomfy feeling settling in his belly. No amount of smooth, languid strokes can bring him any ease and he’s been at this for hours. 

Sweat peripherated his brow, his jacket long discarded in favor for his simple white button up, sleeves cuffed at the elbow. The world was unbearably hot. He had always relished his independence, his power over others, but now, he felt trapped within his own skin. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed something, someone to sink into. To rake his teeth over the soft supple flesh of their neck, pump his cock in and out of tight velvetly walls till he came undone and sat knotted within them till his seed took. Such thoughts flooded his mind, till he finally decided to give into his baser inclinations and hump a nearby pillow in erotic and pure desperation. 

With each press into the fabric, precum weeped from his angry tip to no avail. It was not the same, would never be the same. With each passing of an orgasm, rushed and heated, his cock only stood at more attention and ached with need. Nothing could satite the desire that filled his entire being, mind whirring with one and one thought only: breed. He wanted a mate, needed one.

A rapture of knocks at his door were the only thing that broke him from his ruminations. 

“Alastor? It’s me, Y/N. Can I come in?”

There was a moment of silence before Alastor’s voice filtered through the door, strained yet familiar. “One moment, my dear.”

That one sentence had sealed his whole fate, leading him to where he was presently. He had let you in, opened the door to view your bright and smiling face beaming up at him with a curious desire to help. Of course you had noticed he was missing, you always did. Following him around like a stray puppy since the begining of your stay at the hotel. At first, he had found your presence bothersome, an nusiance to his daily musings and whims. But when you had one day asked him so sweetly to show off his records and radio tower, in total awe of his power, he could not help but fall for your antics. Never failing to see some strand of good in him, every request was a command you followed though he did not own your soul. You were his to protect, to cherish, and now as you stood before him, to mate. 

You had held your hand to his brow, taking his temperature when you noticed his paled state. You smelled so sweet and his inhale was nothing short of sickening as he brought his nose to your hand. Coming kiss your palm as his own brought your hand to his lips. Oh, how soft your skin was against his chapped lips. Like fresh rose petals in spring. From that point on, he could not stop himself. Bringing his lips down your forearm, up to your shoulder, the valleys of your neck. With each kiss and nip, your body shook with shock and anticpiation. His teeth grazed the crevice of your collarbone, leaving a small mark in its wake that drove him wild. You were his, all his.

And now, here you lie. Dark marks marring your once soft and clean skin with the clearest sign of his possesiveness, his ownership. Laid bare before his hungry eyes and desires, his cock came to be inside you with one thrust; your cunt wet and ready for him like it was made for this purpose. Conceptually, rationally, by all means of logic, Alastor knew it would never work. Except, in this very moment, cock pounding into your wet and inviting cunt, he couldn’t help but pray to whatever power was listening that his seed would take. That you would grow warm and full with his child, glowing and basking in the obvious sign of his claim over you. 

Growling, his voice passed huskily through your ears. “Gonna be such a good mate for me….going to be so round and perfect full of me darling—“ Alastor’s words were not his own, his body and mind completely consumed by his arousal and need. Not that you minded, despite being confused as to where this suddent attention was coming from. You had always found Alastor attractive and now to see him so feral only added to the slick that pooled out of your puffy pussy. 

Alastor’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his thrusts becoming short and sloppy as his release fast approached. Soft grunts left his lips and with one final stroke, spilled hot ropes of cum into you. His cock head swelled into knot, the added weight and size barrelling you into your own release. Alastor then collapsed, chest pressing on top of you as his cock twitched, the amount of his release too great for your body to hold; marveling as it spilled past his member and out your greedy hole. Both parties covered in a layer of thin sweat, panting heavily and overcome with pleaasure. Walking his hands forward till both of his arms caged you in on the bed; pushing his cum back into you as he drew himself ontop of you overstimulated body. His eyes flashed a dangerous shade of black, his signature smirk now coming to form a dark and possesive sneer. 

“Now we wait my dear…and I will wait as long as it need for it to take.”

[bunnwich]

Gifts (Leona Kingscholar)🧡

Leona muses on the gift you leave him for Valentine's Day. (Based on the official merch twst 2024 Valentine gift messages)

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Yuu/MC!Reader (Can be framed as platonic or romantic)

Words: 936 words, Leona's POV

Notes: Wanted to challenge myself to do something short and sweet in a few hours and was inspired to improve upon yet another dry official Leona gift message response.

--

Gifts.

They came easy over the years, like plucking an oversweet tart from a dessert tray. He was disliked, feared even, but lucky for him easy on the eyes — and still a prince to occasionally bow and scrape to. So many folks over the years were eager to oblige him and follow the traditions of the Sunset Savanna. Idolize the royals; the divine oligarchy. He was simply “lucky” enough to be born under that umbrella. That’s all.

Those gifts and attention fed him for a while, but if he was being honest, some part of him always remained hungry. 

After all, shiny trinkets were nothing like a dusty old book or the heady cedar smell of a well-used chess set. What was the value of pretty baubles to sit on shelves of his empty room or clothes that cost more than some folks' houses?

Pillars of sand.

Was it so damn pathetic and vapid to want something not given by his family's twisted obligations or plucked from the hands of a quivering servant?  No games. No more ulterior motives. 

Wishful thinking, maybe or a childish habit that he had dumped in the trash, like all those boxes of sweets that long went bitter on his tongue.

He reminded himself that others had suffered much worse than not being doted on in their preferred way. However, this reality failed to take away his distaste for each and every gift. Tch. How many times would he have to snuff out that damn sentimentality that he had been so “lucky” to inherit?

Leona’s eyes fell upon the small bottle vial in his palm and the wooden lion tag attached, tied carefully around the bottle. It had been nestled on the corner of his bed when he returned from Spelldrive practice this morning, all nice and wrapped in shiny paper.

His mouth crinkled and a small sound rumbled from his chest without his permission. Relief of some kind maybe. It had been one of the first gifts he received that was not for his birthday or from his family.

A friendly gesture or…somethin’ more insidious?

To think, someone who came to this world with nothin’ goin’ outta their way to get him somethin’...special.

But, “friends” weren’t something he kept. Instead, he had a collection of starry-eyed froshes, classmates, rivals, those few worthy of his respect. And then there was Ruggie of course but, would he be around if not for the understanding they had come to? Best not to dwell on it now.

Leona chuckled watching the amber liquid swish around the curved glass like liquid gold. How bold of them to choose a scent for him of all things. Beastfolk were sensitive to ‘em and he especially. But, they had been the brash and precocious type ever since they came to this school. Always skipping steps to pull off an advanced move.

Regardless of how big of a crowd he’d ever have cheerin’ at one of his games or how many brilliant trinkets he’d be gifted, nothing beat his chosen audience of one. Who, even after seeing firsthand all the grimy parts of him...still havin’ the audacity to stick around so long.

His eyes fell over to the chessboard at the corner of his desk. Brave little creature indeed, and brimming with Savanaclaw tenacity. A little pawn that made it to the other side of the board, ready to be crowned.

No way they knew the implication of such a small gesture, how important scents were to beastfolk, not that he was one for tradition, of course. Still, He brought the bottle to his nose for the umpteenth time as he leaned forward on his elbows. In an odd way, it reminded him of the gardens back at home when it rained, all those lonely hours pouring over books and chess games. 

Alone but…if he concreted enough, he was able to catch a whiff of the oil where their fingers touched the glass. Yes, in their note they had mentioned that this scent reminded them of him, but to his nose it was missing something. A key complementing note. A missing piece. 

The scent of a little herbivore turned into a formidable beast that he couldn’t get out of his head.

His brow furrowed as he glanced over at the small pile of notes, discarded by his boots. Then he tried again this time with more wit.

"Hey– Allow me to thank you for your generous gift. Heh. I can’t believe you actually picked out a halfway-decent fragrance. I might actually keep this. I thought about sending you something in return if the mood struck me, but this thank you note should do the job just fine, right?"

Leona kept it short and sweet. He knew they two were past formalities, but it was amusing to still play the game a little. He had been waiting for them to approach him in such a bold way, and finally, he had been rewarded for his saintly patience. Still, he wasn’t ready to show his hand yet, well-

He allowed sentimentality to win this time and flipped over the note, scrawling a little something extra for their eyes only. 

“P.S. If you were gonna treat your lion so nice…the least ya could do is make good on such bold intentions and show him some proper attention.”

He chuckled again as he let the paper slip from his fingers, finally satisfied with what he had come up with. Honestly, it didn't matter much what he wrote. Maybe he was becoming sentimental in his “old” age but he knew...that they would always find each other in the middle.

It was their move again.

Besides, it was only fair that he repay them properly. Etiquette and all that.

[tra1nchi]

Day One:Mindcontrol!!!

MINORS DNI!! Bttm male reader🎃🎃

Extra ⚠️:Siren character x caretaker,,fingering,,oral

He had always wanted a mate. Someone to cherish, someone to please but he was stuck, he couldn't leave and he could bearly even move in his tank. Forced to live in a facility that shows him off like a precious fish to drooling little kids.

He hates it. He wishes he could sing his heart out to make all the humans leave him alone. It was impossible of course. The tank was specially made for creatures like him, Sound proof and most importantly escape proof.

He could say the only good thing about his life was you, his personal sweet little caretaker. You weren't like the scientists that poked and prodded at him like he was some kind of dead salmon, you were special, Atleast to him you were.

You were the perfect candidate for a mate, too trusting of him. He was after all a siren at heart and sirens have a desire to hunt even if they aren't aware of it. He would slowly start to court you, innocent at first with simple shells from the bottom of his tank but soon his desire grew darker.

Slowly coaxing you to come above his tank, making you go against your job guidelines, sweettalking you at first until during one of your many visits, he finally broke. Unable to hold himself back any longer.

He sang to you. His voice slow and hypnotic and he couldn't deny the spark in his gut as he watched your pretty eyes glaze over. There wasn't a thought behind your eyes, if he knew that it would be that easy he would have done it ages ago!

Commanding you to sit down on the edge of your pool, his praise causing you to become even more lethargic by the second. "That's it, good boy." He mused as he quickly removed the bottom half of your clothing, his tail basically thumping against his tank wall from excitement.

"So hard for me already hm? Poor boy must like my singing~" His webbed hand reaches out to wrap around your dick, you couldn't resist or deny against the siren, too deep under the trance of his song. Stroking it up and down rhythmically, He didn't bother to hide the smirk at the sound of your breathy moans emitting from your lips.

"How cute." He mutters before leaning down, taking your dick into his mouth. His sharp teeth running down the underside of it. Laughing through your dick when he feels your body shuddering. His long tongue swirling around your tip and lapping up all the pre cum that your hypnotised dick leaked.

He seemed to get a little carried away. Losing track on how many times he made you cum by just his mouth. Pulling off your dick as he soothed you with a gentle lullaby before flipping you over, his eyes softening at how willingly exposed you were.

Spreading your ass apart just for his eyes as his sharp finger slipped in, lazily fingering your hole as his other hand groped and playfully slapped your ass. He knew that his mate would be nice and submissive for him and now that he had you, he would never let you leave his special trance.

[fbfh]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

[k9wa]

⟁ SANGUINE. ft ARGENTI.

⠀ — “but should you allow me, i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

⠀ OR

⠀ — a vampire is struck with love at first sight for the human sent to pierce his heart.

⚠︎ vampire!argent & vampire hunter!reader, gn reader, mentions of blood, consuming blood, death, weapons, all that vampire-y stuff, suggestive content, a little sweetness, some gore, so much flirting, argenti is a lil bit of a freak, your freak tho, i love doomed couples, wc 3.2k, from this req.

it’d been weeks now— weeks of terror and bloodshed in a small, humble village to the east. 

a monster, people cried, praying and pleading for someone— anyone to bring justice to their befallen family and friends, their neighbours and colleagues taken and drained of life in the night. you, well-versed and experienced with this ever repeating scenario, were finally sought out as a last ditch and oh so desperate attempt at restoring peace and safety to a once joyful town; told of a red beast who lures prey in with his charm and sinks his teeth into anything deemed beautiful.

vampires were messy hunters, whether they attempted cleanliness or not. it wasn’t an impossible job to follow a few faint traces— blood specks, pieces of fabric, etc— to a mossied, cobblestone path. the muffled clack of your boots against the rock was the only sound for miles in the silent, secluded forest. finally, your search proved somewhat fruitful upon finding a wall of thick, overgrown rose bushes.

pushing past the thorny wall— clearly designed to keep trespassers such as yourself out— revealed a sight nothing short of breathtaking; an old castle-esque manor in the centre of all the red flowers and shrubbery. 

this was where it lived, you had no doubt in your head as you kept forward.

a solution on how to breach the eerie yet beautiful building was but a fleeting thought, your fingers tightening around the hold of a dagger in your palm as the door easily opened with a mere, gentle push.

(years of hunting the wretched creatures left you hearing nearly hundreds of idiotic vampire weaknesses and immunities— the silver in your weapons and a clean shot to the heart was all you’d ever needed.)

as the aged, ornate door creaked open with the whispers of the forest's night, argenti caught the faintest sense (or rather scent) of an intruder; a fragrance and feeling that strongly pulled him to his staircase to further investigate. this smell promised beauty, he could not resist his own curiosity as his lips still glistened crimson.

“ah,” the vampire ran his fingers along the old hand railing with an almost dreamy sigh. “what curious little lamb graces my abode tonight?” he crooned, locking eyes with the figure that’d just stepped into his foyer. 

the sight of you would have taken argenti's breath away, had he had any to steal. your eyes in the moonlight, the faint glisten of your skin, the shine of your hair— you were no ordinary nor foolish trespasser— you warranted his undivided attention.

he was across the room in one swift step, tucking his now red sullied handkerchief into one of his pockets. an amused smile danced on his lips as he took in your cautious stance, the weapon ready to strike.

“you,” argenti leaned forward, lips tugging up further. “must be the hunter sent to end my nocturnal escapades.” he mused, verdant eyes locked onto your form like prey. you instinctively took a step back, keeping a safe distance that argenti was already yearning to bridge.

“keen observation.” you responded with a twinge of sarcasm that the vampire audibly giggled at.

“what are you called?” he asked, beginning to pace a slow circle around you.

“my name is unimportant.”

“it must be a crime for beauty such as yours to go unnamed or unpraised, hunter.”

the compliment didn’t go over your head, nor did the fact that this was the prettiest vampire— prettiest being, actually, that you had ever seen. however, he was still your target, regardless of the way his words made your chest warm.

“i'm afraid we won’t have time for all that, vampire.”

argenti's eyes flashed with both amusement and anticipation as you rebuffed his advances, hues of green gleaming as you twirled your dagger and made your first attack.

his supernatural reflexes sprang into action, evading your small blade with a swift sidestep and a cut to his red, velvet overcoat just above his heart. the thrill of the hunt, the game of predator and prey with the lines so delightfully blurred, coursed through him.

“such haste,” he chided, tsking softly as he caught your wrist with a firm yet gentle grip. “would you not rather savour the moment, mon chasseur?” 

argenti's focus trailed down the bridge of your nose, the curve and swell of your lips, rounded edges of your jaw, acknowledging with a faint hum the beauty of bravery etched into your features. 

“i've never been one for sentimentality,” you responded calmly, letting the weapon in your caught hand drop to the floor with an unheard clang. “you’ll have to forgive me.”

the dance continued, your now open hand shifting in his hold to grab his fingers and spin him around. even as you reached for your weapon on your other thigh, argenti laughed— a rich and sweet sound that echoed through the manor. he admired your pragmatism, even while relishing in the thrilling two-step you engaged in.

as you switched the position with a practised ease, argenti felt the air shift behind him with another stab aimed for the left of his back. a lean to the right and another turn around left your other wrist in his hold, evading you a second time.

“brava, ma chérie,” the vampire praised, his voice dripping with admiration and affection alongside challenge. he gave your wrists a firmer squeeze, a subtle yet clear reminder of the strength that lurked beneath his aristocratic facade. “but don’t be fooled,” argenti leaned dangerously forward, breath a cool whisper against your skin, fangs grazing the skin of your neck just under your ear. “i'm not so easily felled.”

the feeling of teeth so close to your nape had your foot raising and kicking him away with an almost panicked reflex, argenti stumbling back at the force.

“i've never met a vampire quite as talkative as you.” you said while adjusting the hold of your knife. your voice was laced with a clear frustration yet also something argenti recognized to be intrigue.

“perhaps you’ve never met one as enamoured with his prey as i,” he retorted, finding your irritation just as delightful as you. 

“talk is the prelude to understanding, my dear,” argenti hummed while straightening his jacket, adjusting the frills of his white sleeves underneath it. “and i find myself just dying to know you.”

it was argenti’s turn to advance for you, aiming to disarm you of that pesky silver in your palm and leave you perfectly vulnerable. though, in an act of hypocrisy, his haste left him making a predictable reach.

“i encourage you to take your own advice,” you quipped, slipping away from the swift grab with an agility honed purely from experience. the angle left you able to kick his ankle from underneath him and shove him down to his back, landing atop him with your knife pointed down at his adam's apple.

“it’s always important to keep a clear head, wouldn’t you agree?”

argenti's heart, though long stilled by death, thrummed with a refreshing and delectable kind of excitement as he found himself pinned beneath you. he could not help but fall deeper into his affections as he lay beneath the cool kiss of your blade at his throat.

“a clear head,” he echoed softly. “one mustn't let desire cloud one's judgement.” he chuckled. “but then again, where is the thrill in restraint?”

you had not yet dealt your deciding finisher, opting to stay still atop him, the only movement being the faux rise and fall of argenti’s chest. a purely reflexive motion that mocked your owns authenticity.

“tell me, hunter,” he continued, voice tinged with a playful edge. “does this proximity disquiet you? or does it intrigue?”

your response was a quick, defensive one— more abrupt than you’d hoped in an attempt to mask the very intrigue he’d so easily sniffed out.

“you flatter yourself too much.” you resisted a scoff. “perhaps i'll just cut your throat to shut you up.”

argenti's lips curled in a sickly smile. 

“you are beautiful.” he praised with a dramatic flourish in his voice. “in all my years, i have seen countless dawns and dusks– but none have displayed the beauty you have captivated me with.”

your steady hold on your weapon earnestly wavered, the moment suspending you both in a tense yet not particularly uncomfortable stare. perhaps charged was a more befitting term.

what was with this guy…?

“trying to save your own skin now?”

argenti chuckled.

“it is no charade, i assure you.” the vampire’s eyes didn’t leave yours for even a moment– the eliminated need to blink rather helpful in maintaining the contact. “your beauty is not something i would invoke so lightly.”

each word argenti spoke was a measured step, a delicate dance toward an understanding or perhaps even a truce– now it was simply a matter of waiting to see if the olive branch he extended was taken. 

“...you’re quite the odd one.” your brows lightly unfurrowed, and argenti keenly watched as you slowly began to relax. 

“what is your name?” you inquired. “so i may remember the beast who so strongly defied my expectations.”

“beast?” argenti echoed, chuckling yet again. “you wound me with such a word.”

though your inquiry, softly spoken, was an unexpected gift– a thread of curiosity argenti was all too eager to grab hold of.

“i am argenti.” he pronounced his name with a sense of pride. “and you, hunter?”

your name was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, lodging itself snuggly in his amygdala. in the momentary vulnerability of the shared moment, argenti was not only blessed with your name but the slight relaxing of your shoulders– blade no longer so firm to his neck. with a seamless grace that centuries of existence had honed, he acted, seizing the fleeting opportunity your brief lapse provided.

in one swift, fluid motion, argenti reversed your positions with a blur of finesse. now it was you who lay beneath him, the cold silver weapon no longer his threat nor your protector as it clambered to the floor beside you. your hands pinned above your head left you unable to reach for it back.

argenti echoed your name with a dreamy sigh, savouring the syllables like a whispered incantation. “a name unique as the one who bears it.”

though you didn’t…struggle. you hadn’t even pushed against his hold the smallest bit. argenti could feel the subtle change, the gentle yielding of your guard as you remained still beneath him. it was an invitation as silent as the moonlit shadows that played across your features.

he tentatively leaned down, fangs grazing the tender skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, a mere whisper away from puncturing the flesh that pulsed with the sweetness he craved.

your proximity was so utterly intoxicating, heady with your scent– a mix of steel resolve and something more primal, more human. yet he did not bite down.

“you are a rare gem, my dear,” he murmured against your skin, lips brushing softly against it in a kiss that belied his monstrous nature. “i find myself reluctant to mar such perfection.”

his breath caressed you as he spoke, lips tracing a path up to the shell of your ear.

“but should you allow me,” he whispered. “i would be truly endowed to taste you, hunter.”

he was much too overwhelming, each of your senses buzzed with the sound or touch or simple presence of him. you swallowed thickly in a poor attempt to maintain your composure, to at least save some face and act like your body wasn’t slowly burning up.

“you’ve…” your voice still wavered– once more, a poor attempt. “you’ve been kind.” your eyes remained fixed on the large chandelier hung above you, candles still somehow burning. 

“i suppose i wouldn't mind granting you the indulgence, argenti.”

the corners of the vampire’s mouth curved up at your quiet concession, the light tilt of your head a telling permission. your acquiescence was a gift, one he intended to honour with the reverence it deserved.

“your generosity will not go unappreciated.”

his lips returned to the tender skin of your neck, voice a soothing balm to your ear as he positioned his teeth with deliberate care. the sensation of your pulse, strong and rhythmic beneath the surface, was an alluring melody to his already heightened senses.

he allowed himself a moment of restraint, of savouring the precipice upon which you both teetered, before his fangs gently– oh so very gently– pierced your flesh.

the initial penetration was a careful caress; one that made your head swirl with its settling sting, though still tender as a lover’s tentative exploration rather than the savage bite of a beast as you’d so called him.

the taste of you was nothing less than exquisite, a rush of vitality that flooded every conscious part of him. he drank deeply, small gulps quiet in your ear, yet remained instinctually aware of the preciousness of the gift you’d bestowed him.

his free hand, the one not pinning your wrists, trailed down to cup your cheek, thumb brushing sweetly against your skin in an intimate gesture meant to comfort, to connect, to say without words that you were revered even in your vulnerability.

your heart fluttered and palpated in your chest, both with the penetrating susceptibility of argenti holding you as if you were treasured glass and the blood being slowly drained from your veins. your hands, allowed free from their position above you, moved down to carefully cradle the vampire’s head against you, the touch enough to tug at the remnants of argenti’s humanity. it was almost enough to make you forget why you were there in the first place, how you’d gotten yourself into this embrace. your purpose.

keyword, almost.

argenti’s world, meanwhile, narrowed to the euphoric connection between you as he fed, your warmth wrapping tightly around the immortal’s soul and lulling him into a serene complacency. the very serenity that would mask an impending betrayal.

he was too absorbed to feel the deadly, slow movement of your hand to your right, picking your weapon up with the stealth of a seasoned predator. then, in a hunter’s final ploy, you gripped the handle and pushed the silver up through his chest– past his flesh, his ribs, and precisely through his heart.

the sharp pain immediately tore through him, feeling the muscle that had ceased to beat for so long be so violently yet so cleanly tore through. argenti gasped against your neck, a shock of realisation and honest hurt settling in with the physical burn in his skin. the agony sent tremors through his body, a sensation so foreign and so acute it tore a ragged groan from his throat. he reeled from the visceral surprise, his feeding cut short as the born instinct of survival kicked in.

with great effort he lifted his gaze to meet yours, trying so desperately to speak– whether a scathing retort or a final compliment, anything would do. but the attempt was only a muddled whisper, stuck in his throat with his agony.

he used the last of his strength to roll off of you, but you held firm on your blade and rolled with him, pushing deeper at the newfound leverage.

though, to your begrudging admittance, it was…unsatisfactory. even as your head swirled with your own miniscule puncture wound and sudden anaemia, the lingering thrill of being entwined with such a bewitching creature in your bones, the dripping of your own blood down your skin as you succeeded in your kill–  it left you with no feeling of accomplishment or even at the very least quelled by the death of another vampire.

you felt bad. terrible, even. watching the life ebb from argenti was no longer worth the bounty or keeping of your profession or even justice for the ones he’d killed.

argenti’s heavy breaths matched your own, a final weak rasp of your name leaving his lips. his hand reached up, not with malice but with a gentle beseeching, pale fingers brushing against your cheek, smearing a trail of his blood– a final, poignant connection.

and even in death he looked so stunning to you, as did you to him– even as one of your hands remained steadfast around the silver in his heart.

your free hand covered his, helping hold it against your cheek with a slight clutch around his fingers.

“i think you’re beautiful, too.” you admitted, keeping your voice as quiet as possible so as to not cause him anymore pain or discomfort, “the most beautiful i’ve ever seen.”

the vampire’s eyes, clouded with pain, softened at your confession. the irony of your situation was not lost on him, an immortal succumbing to such a mortal wound at the hands of a creature equally captivating as they were lethal.

“you have bestowed upon me…an exquisite end,” argenti murmured, his voice a mere wisp of sound. “to be seen…truly seen by you, to behold s-such beauty in return…” his hand trembled against your skin, the strength of his once mighty grasp fading like the last glimmers of twilight. his green eyes, still holding yours with the intensity of a man both defeated and enthralled, conveyed a wealth of emotions you’d never get to hear.

“there is no greater finale.”

you held his hand tighter. you wanted him to be comfortable– against every instinct carved into your bones you did not want him to suffer more than you had made him.

“i’ll always remember you, argenti.” your voice was a cool salve to his wounded– literally wounded– heart. “i swear it.”

a ghost of a smile graced his pallid lips, your words weaving through the growing darkness around him.

“that,” argenti breathed quietly, the sound laboured and pained. “is a thought more gratifying than eternity.”

“meet me again,” you said quickly. “under better circumstances next time. you must.”

the thought of not being pitted against each other from the start, the muddied roles of prey and predator or species not interfering in your lives, was just the comfort he needed to nod and close his eyes.

“i will, then.” he felt the touch of your lips to his forehead as his body crumbled to a grey ash, a silent farewell. the moment was paradoxical, held tenderness amidst the dark reality of your short time together. too short, you thought. far too short.

soon enough you're left alone, with two palm fulls of dust in the quiet grandeur of the manor, heart heavy with the mix of feelings you had not nearly anticipated uncovering in what was supposed to be a simple job. hats off to you, for walking into the lion's den only to leave mourning its taming.

you pull the small vial of holy water from your neck, dumping the contents out to your left and refilling it with what remained of the vampire who’d so quickly etched himself into your heart. you stood slowly, mindful of your pounding head as you fastened the vial back around your neck and slowly took your leave. sitting around much longer in your unexpected grief felt too eerie, though the few scratches to your skin on your way back through the walls of thorned roses would leave a lingering reminder of how you felt in the current moment. under better circumstances, you repeated in your head for the journey home. someday distant, under better circumstances.

⠀ MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

[unhxngxd]

Small Starter Call [Mercy Addams Centric] !!! 

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Words related to Mythology

to include in your next story/poem

Ambrosia - the food eaten by Greek and Roman gods; a very pleasant food

Chthonic - relating to or living in the underworld (i.e., the place in ancient stories where the spirits of the dead go)

Chimera - in Greek mythology, a creature with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a snake's tail

Delphi - an ancient Greek sanctuary (i.e., a holy place) on Mount Parnassus, where an oracle (i.e., a female priest) was believed to be able to answer questions with advice from the god Apollo

Fate - what happens to a particular person or thing, especially something final or negative, such as death or defeat

Gorgon - one of three sisters in ancient Greek stories who had snakes on their heads instead of hair, and who turned anyone who looked at them into stone

Harpy - in Greek mythology, a creature with the head of a woman and the body of a bird

Hydra - in ancient Greek stories, a creature with many heads that grew again when cut off; also, a difficult problem that keeps returning

Ichor - in Greek mythology, the liquid that flows in the bodies of the gods instead of blood

Muse - in ancient Greek and Roman stories, one of the nine goddesses who were believed to give encouragement in different areas of literature, art, and music

Nectar - in ancient Greek and Roman stories, the drink of the gods; also, a sweet liquid produced by flowers and collected by bees and other insects

Satyr - a god in Greek literature who is half man and half goat

Siren - in ancient Greek literature, one of the creatures who were half woman and half bird, whose beautiful singing encouraged sailors to sail into dangerous waters where they died

Sphinx - an imaginary creature with a lion's body and a person's or animal's head, usually with wings; in ancient Greek stories, a creature at Thebes with the body of a lion, the head and breasts of a woman, and wings. She asked people who passed by a riddle (i.e., a difficult question) and if they could not answer correctly, she killed them

Underworld - in mythology, a place under the earth where the spirits of the dead go

If any of these words make it into your next poem/story, please tag me. Or leave a link in the replies. I’d love to read them!

More: Word Lists

[running-with-kn1ves]

Desperation

A/N: I wrote something very similar to this with the Belsire previously but I couldn't help myself 🙏

Belsire: male equivalent to the Beldam (Coraline)

CW: kidnapping, manipulation, sewing needles

A beautiful lullaby hummed against your ear, fog-like breath both chilly and thick caressed against its shell.

You never imagined that he could sew; sure, he was keen to cook you extravagant dinners, you never saw him clean despite the crooked house always spotless, and the clothes that were put in your drawers were consistently washed-- but such delicate needlework? You didn't think the creature had it in him. His fingers seemed made for it though, long and spindly and black at the tips, they held the needle at a fine point, without having to lick the end of the thread before putting it through the eye.

"Stab the needle through the eye....wrap two knots around the tongue, and pull it out the mouth."

His low, rasped voice was unlike anything you've heard from the men in the "real" world. Its croaky demure made sound as if his vocal chords were on the brink of snapping. It was very few and far between that his voice resounded throughout the house in a thunder-like boom.

Tonight, was not one of those nights. Not unless you made an effort to wrangle out of between his stick-like forearms in the wooden chair and began yelling ungrateful spiels whilst staying in HIS house. He said it was yours-- your "other home," but since the gateway tunnel back to your original 1-bedroom apartment became nothing but sturdy drywall with a key hole, its been his. It was always his, you were just too blind to see past the beautiful illusions built for you.

"Just like that... mending is simple work."

You feel his left hand, the one once holding your torn cardigan steady, reach up to lay a cold finger beneath your chin. It rubs back and forth, relishing in the warmth of your throat, the soft flesh between your jaw and jugular.

The Belsire seemed to enjoy running his smooth, icy digits along your naked skin, brushing from side to side, up and down to dip against your collar bone. He relished your warm-bloodedness from how often he took advantage of it. It was a wild contrast to his ever-frozen, rigid body draped in fine blacks and bruised shadows.

"C-can you show me again?" You plead, hoping the end of this activity wouldn't be the finale before your demise. Each time you have one of these "bonding" sessions the Belsire encourages you to entertain him with, you anticipate it being your last.

Each day you wait and wait... wondering if he's hungry again, if it'll hurt, if you'll make one more frustrated comment away that'll make him snap and pick your bones clean.

"Again..?" He tapped thrice on your neck, a twitching habit that sent cold shocks through you. "Why don't you try it yourself this time, dear?"

The sweet, affectionate name oozing from his lips was unnatural-- and yet, perfectly normal for the creature of love seduction. How many had fallen for that same adoring title, only to find themselves now locked in his stomach?

You couldn't tell anymore what was genuine adoration, or a disturbing method at getting you to put your guard down. When he was angry with you, for hiding or attempting another escapade to get back home,  'dear' transformed to spits of "insolent one" and "maddening human", at the very least. On his worst days you were a bewitching, dimwitted little creature too stupid to be let free- better off in his hands if not crunched between his teeth.

"I'm not too sure, I might..accidentally stab myself with the needle, you know?"

You shrug in feigned helplessness, hoping your lack of enthusiasm wouldn't tick him closer to the dark side.

"If you do, then I'll lick your wound and we can start again. Give it a try, won't you? I've seen your work on my coats," he mumbles lowly at the rest of his comments, "and that damned quilt you seem keen to keep."

He muses at the mention of your skilled handiwork you sneak to do when he's gone away at "none of your concern" events. However he knew of your activities in this prison cell while he was out didn't surprise you; the house had eyes, in places you'd rather not think of.

You took the needle from within his delicate grasp, mahogany red thread swinging loose and ready to be tightly wound in your wine colored cardigan.

You copy the movements he had done a million times, though you really weren't watching when he had. It was hard to concentrate with your body shivering, waiting for a sharp dagger or set of teeth to find it's way buried in your back.

The Belsire seems to ease up as you begin to complete the torn cardigan hole, placing two abnormally long hands upon the sides of your shoulders.

"Don't move," he grumbles, almost annoyed at the idea. "Smooth and quite warm... I never understood the pleasure of keeping food around longer than it's due date. But you, little button... why, you're almost opening a soft spot inside of me.."

You didn't like the sound of that. A soft spot within him would certainly be something he sought to squash.

"Are you sure you want a soft spot? I'm not even sure where that would be."

You almost laugh at your own joke, imagining his crisp limbs deflated. If you were making a soft spot, you best keep at making it grow.

"It seems you force it in me, whether I like it or not. I enjoy having you to myself, to come home to... even if the idea that you're taking part of me, is... infuriating."

The Belsire leans deeper into you, pressing the inside of his thighs against yours, craning his neck downward.

"The unfortunate part is, I think I may fall apart if you disappear."

You see the looks he gives from the corner of your eye; dark, empty buttons staring into you, awaiting your reaction. Was this another attempt to swoon you?

"Then I guess that means you can't eat me."

You sigh, hoping he'd agree. And oddly enough, he cracks a grin.

"I guess not. Though, don't hold your breath. I can't make any promises as to what my temper will lead to." The bridge of his nose is uncharacteristically pressed against your cheek, black dots boring holes into you. "On the topic, I'd be less inclined to eat you if you accepted my present..."

You round off the last bit of stitching, only to see an all too familiar velvet box on your left. It was open, music box playing a soft melody as a range of colors and sizes in buttons were available to view.

"I... I still can't, give you an answer." You go back to tying an end to the thread, praying for the Belsire's eerily calm mood to stay uninterrupted.

He goes quiet, habitually running a thumb down the shell of your ear. The chill was almost welcoming, soft flesh touching your heated one. It felt... genuine, a form of physical affection that was done for his pleasure more than your own. It would be comforting, if you weren't waiting for him to explode.

"I expected as much," he calmly huffs, shutting the box with a single finger. Its harsh snap made you drop the thread. "But you can't expect me to wait forever; you aren't going home. You will remain here, either as my slave, or my spouse. The difference is whether I have to force these buttons on you, or you take them willingly."

"I.. I just need a little more time. I haven't-- I'm not-- done adjusting. I'm not used to this world, like you."

You've given up pleading; for all you knew, there was no way back home that either of you could conjure. This was your fate.

Like a doll he dressed and cleaned and made a perfect dollhouse for, you were to sit here and provide him the comfort he could not create on his own. Like a god, creating his creatures of free will, he relished in the uniqueness you offered without him having to fabricate it first, the obedience you gave from fear in your own desire rather than a direct command.

A long silence left the air hanging stagnant, your patchwork sitting in front of you, finished and yet not quite the same as it once was. Why couldn't you go to the store and buy a new one, spend frivolous money and speak to the miserable cashier that reminded you humanity was still alive?

"...Fine. But not much longer, my sweet button...this-- mortal flesh still tying you to your world, has kept me at a distance I do not wish to stand at." A soft kiss, from creased, inexperienced lips touched the top of your cheekbone. "I want you for myself... I don't like not getting the things I want. And, I want you far more desperately than I imagined."

His voice was stoic, gentle and logical despite the romantic lines that were fed to you. Spindly fingers pulled back pieces of your hair, caressing the skin on your face with soft strokes. Like a human would do to an animal, running his knuckles against your cheek and his fingertips along your jaw.

Just a simple touch and turn of your chin was all it took to make you look at him.

"Don't make me wait. I will have you, and I want it to be because you will it. Please, don't make me do what neither of us want."

His tongue was warmer than his touch, somehow. Maybe it led to his even warmer heart, but you doubted it. Even with the way both his large, balmy palms were gripping beside your ears, pulling your face to touch his in a dance of lips and stolen breath, you wondered if this was just another web of lies spun to create your damnation.

But the desperation in how he swallowed you whole, pulling your hands away from the touchy needlework he was once keen on making you finish-- there was something human about it all, something touchy and irritable and obsessive. If he wanted you desperately then, you could only imagine how horribly ridden he was now, feeling your warmth as he made you colder with his hands and wrists, him never changing.

You peeked an eye open, wondering if those buttons stayed all-seeing, all watching, even when you kissed.

[nebulaafterdark]

An Aegon II suggestion because I've seen you're open to them, if you don't mind. ❤️

Perhaps you could do a part 2 of the Dracarys series? I genuinely love that specific kind of trope especially with Aegon because I rarely see it with him and because the specific way in which you wrote it has something addictive to it 😭. You decide if there's smut or not or how Velaryon!(Strong)reader fares.

Thanks if you'll read it.❤️

This is super short, but thank you so much for the ask! There’s just something about this Aegon. I hope you enjoy! 🩷

Dracarys (Part 2)

Aegon ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

Targcest, major character death, angst, no smut but it’s dark.

Part 1

“What did you feel before you felt nothing?” Aegon wonders, stroking a possessive hand over her dark locks.

“Fear, grief.”

“What did you feel for me?” He wonders.

“I suppose, for a moment, I was happy to see you.” She admits, because it does not matter anymore.

“And what do you feel for me now?”

If she tells him the truth of it, he may yet kill her. But is this truly living? “I hate you. I loathe you. I despise you.” How many ways can she say it? “I am sick at the sight of you.”

Aegon cackles, like a mad man, “why then, have you not killed me in my sleep? Take the crown, take it all?”

“Who says I haven’t tried?” She breathes, feeling his arms tighten around her. “Or that I won’t.”

“You are a cunning creature. An enchantress. A spider, created to trap me in your web.” He moves his lips to her ear, “if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it by now.”

Tears prickle at the backs of her eyes.

“Same as I cannot bring myself to harm you.” Aegon whispers, “I think about it.”

Y/N wills herself to remain still as his hungry eyes rake over the whole of her.

“Then somehow I never do.”

“Why do you think that is?” Y/N searches his eyes.

“Something in you is tethered to something in me. Tied together, in love and in hate. I have no way of knowing what my life will become if I cut this cord between us.” Aegon admits. “I have no desire to know.”

“I do not want to be tied together.”

“Yet here you are,” Aegon muses, “though you are not held in chains.”

“Because you are holding the only remaining member of my family under lock and key.” Y/N reminds him.

“Take your brother and go.”

“Surely another one of your traps.”

“Not a trap, but an offer. One that will not be made again.”

“Why?” Y/N demands, “why after all this would you let me leave?”

“Because you won’t. Even if you did, you would return. You have nothing left, save for me. I killed your mother, after our families killed each other and my sister killed herself; over a chair.” Aegon sneers.

Y/N’s hands ball into fists, “I hate you.”

“I know, my dearest love.” Aegon taunts, “just as our mothers before us, like Aemond and Lucerys. Even Jacaerys and sweet Helaena could not escape it. You and I were fated to dance.”

Part 3

[ladybirdswritings]

Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader

Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.

Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)

A03 | masterlist | next chap

pretty thing…

“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”

A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.

Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.

“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.

“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”

Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.

How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.

A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.

It was most certainly a flash.

“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.

“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”

Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?

It was just you and the ghoul.

Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.

Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.

The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.

“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.

You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.

He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.

“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”

God, he didn’t know just how right he was.

If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.

You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.

“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.

“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”

The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.

His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.

Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.

The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:

“C’mon now, pretty thing…”

Then?

Slumber…

¿to be continued?