#Even if he's smothered in 'blood' I will gently hold him

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐎𝐟𝐟 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

__________________ ׂׂ��་༘࿐

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 || 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐑𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

cw : MDNI - s1 Lestat, top male reader, sub Lestat, jealous Lestat, i bagged a baddie by being autistic aesthetic, nsfw, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood and gore, mentions of death, mentions of homophobia, inappropriate use of lipstick, lestat crashes out bad, y'all are on your own with the french translations, goodluck, anon request. wc : 12.8k

Lestat adored you as much as you worshiped him on bended knee. In your mind, you knew you threaded a line that could lead to a prosperous life, or one that would end in an instance. You were more than knowledge about the mans’ power and true nature, but your heart—your heart was his completely.

The vampire was more than familiar with those who'd been enthralled with him. Wanting to occupy his space, his life, his bed, his lips even, but you? He had such a sick fascination to keep you around and in his current immortal life, and then some. He did not proclaim love, even though it was obvious with the affection he smothered you in and vice versa.

What he couldn't stand, was the eyes of others roaming your body, thoughts wild and with hunger for you. Strangers ready to take you away from him, to indulge in sweet whispers and rough touches throughout the night. No one deserved your praise, your love, your adoration. To take his sun away, the shining star in his seemingly everlasting life?

Any man or woman who so much as gazed upon your divine form would meet with the cold hands of death much sooner than fate designed.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Ma bien-aimée, could you carry me to my coffin?”

You could barely register the words Lestat spoke as his lips pressed against the top of your head. Sitting up from your current position, you tilted your head up to meet the others' gaze. His eyes seduced you entirely without even trying, your half lidded eyes holding nothing but love and adoration for the man below you. “Ain't ya’ got legs? I've been much rougher than this before Les.” Your voice rumbled in a slightly deeper pitch seeing as you'd just woken up.

Your nude bodies seemed to shift and brush over each other as you moved. The couches weren't the best places to have such intimate moments, but you knew Lestat didn't have a bed, even for show. You knew of a guest room not too far off from his own, and that maybe he could have one there, but you never got the chance to mention it to him.

Lestat made a choked sound as you pulled away from his body, a ripple of warmth shooting up his spine. You'd gently chewed against your bottom lip as you pulled out and away from Lestat, feeling him cling onto what he could before the connection was broken. “Bien-aimé, tu es grand même quand tu dors,” he muttered to himself.

“Want me to run ya’ a bath Les?”

“It is too close to sunrise, I will take one later.”

“You sure? Wouldn't want to get your coffin all dirty.” You managed to find undergarments which had nearly been ripped to shreds with how eager Lestat had been. He'd vented out his frustrations, how Louis seemed to be avoiding him for some time now after — what he described as — having a blissful night of exotic wonders in each other's embrace. Not that you minded Lestat laying with others, just as he didn't judge you for being as queer as you were.

Ever since Lestat pulled you in, Louis had grown uneasy around you, almost as if he disliked you. You'd spoken to him before, but he dismissed you or ignored you most times — caring not for how you looked, how you acted, nor where you were from. It was truly as if he didn't want anything to do with you.

“I can always buy a new one, but if it is your mess, I don't mind it reeking of you for a while.”

You couldn't tell if that was an insult or a compliment, but you didn't take it to heart. “Well Les, was wonder’n if you wanted to see a show tomorrow, or maybe perform tonight. Haven't heard you play on stage in a while now!” Your arms maneuvered themselves under Lestats' legs and back before he proceeded to hook his arms around your neck.

“I would love to, really, but I have pressing matters to get to tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You almost seemed sad at that moment as you carried Lestat up the stairs, and apparently it was shown on your face as well.

“Stop that, you look like a kicked puppy when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That…that face. You pout, you give me those eyes, almost begging for something. I will spare time to perform, I promise, but...I have plans at the moment.”

That was the last conversation you could remember having with the vampire before he seemed to disappear like smoke. He stopped visiting, stopped showing around, and suddenly you were alone. It almost seemed wrong, to go out into town by yourself, running your business without seeing him flaunt around you or sit on his lap. It was odd. But you knew what he was, what he truly was. A creature of the night. A God compared to the mortal you were.

And all you could do is wish longingly for his return.

For his touch.

For his voice.

For his love.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You looked down at yourself, feeling a little overdressed for the occasion – even though it was a wedding – suits and ties never truly felt like you. Lestat was the fashionista, so to speak. One who loved to dress you up like a doll, having dragged you from tailor to tailor after one glance at your wardrobe. Though he never really complained with the way your suspenders seemed to shape your ass perfectly – perfectly enough that he felt the need to cop a feel whenever you dawned them.

In your hand you fiddled the RSVP that had been recently slipped through your mailslot, thumb running over the engraving on the card and your heart throbbing within your ears. Yes, Louis had a very caring sister that adored you, but you felt odd appearing at the wedding after Louis made every attempt to cut you out of his life. “Grace invited you,” you muttered to yourself, hearing the yard flood with noise, now realizing just how many people occupied said space. “If they didn’t want you here, they wouldn't have invited you…” You tried to coach yourself as nervousness wracked the entirety of your body, but it only seemed to worsen with every passing minute.

Your normal social butterfly self seemed to turn into more of a wallflower. Most of the people there knew the family and the couple – whether they be relatives or childhood friends – but you felt like a stranger within it all. Just the oddball bumpkin who’d started running the club down the lane. Nothing special. The sun was still out, and at that moment you had doubts that Lestat would be around. It almost felt like you needed him to hold your hand, at least to settle your buzzing nerves. Unfortunately, last you heard was that Lestat left a rather unsavory impression on the family, or so they say.

Sitting in the farthest seat you could, you sat and waited, watching the couple say their vows and declare their love for eachother. You could almost hear the nagging of your Ma and Memaw now, asking when you were going to bring some pretty girl around one day rather than a sack of potatoes over your shoulder. Wondering when they’ll get grandchildren from you. Your eyes left the couple as they jumped the broom, clapping your hands in a celebratory fashion with a sad smile appearing on your lips. Would marriage even be a chance in your future? Children even?

As you reminisced on your somber past, the evening seemed to turn into night and with the night came blaring music, laughter, and talk. Everyone seemed so happy, yet you'd kept your eye out for the blonde man who'd yet to crash said wedding. You could only assume that the two men didn’t end up on a good note, at least on Louis' side, seeing as Lestat spoke of him often to you. He always spoke of what was troubling him, his woes and worries as you two would share the couch and sometimes even your own bed.

“There you are! Been lookin’ all over for you!” Your shoulders jumped in surprise, the wine you were sipping on hitting the back of your throat as you tried your best to clear it. Grace made her way over with her now newly wedded husband in tow, holding the hem of her dress so as to not drag it on the ground. “Oh don’t try to hide yourself now country boy, where have you been?” She gave a playful pinch against your arm, none too painful, but she seemed much stronger than she looked.

Rubbing against the area on you arm after placing down the glass, you offered a shy smile in return. “Well, I assumed I wasn’t…welcome here. Family is a joy to be around, but I wasn’t sure all of you enjoyed being around me, is all.” You made a small pained noise as the smaller woman called you out by your name and you were pinched once again – in the same spot no less. You glanced down and then to the female, head tilted to the side in a questionable fashion, as if wondering why she was beating you up so badly.

“Boy, don’t let Mamaw hear that! She loved having your company, much better than that French White Louis is doin…business with, something about him just don’t sit right with me. But you? You’re sweeter than a pot of honey, and Paul seems to have taken a liking to you!”

“More than what most could say.” Levi gestured to himself, knowing that Paul cared not for him or the fact that Levi seemed to have married with his sister.

“Paul’ll warm up…one day, though I think he is just be’n protective is all. His darling sister being carried away with someone he barely knows, I could understand his worries,” you chided. You knew all too well how that felt, the protectiveness and all. A fleeting memory if anything. “Not to mention he certainly doesn’t like the fact that you are not wholly faithful to the name of the Lord and Christ. You know how he is Levi, just be happy he didn’t do anything rash during the vows…” As you spoke to the married couple you could feel eyes practically piercing through the side of your head. Your gaze slowly drifted, flickering past guests and family friends that seemed to mingle between each other.

You blinked almost feverishly as you came to see Louis staring directly at you, bewildered and almost unsure if you were really there. He didn’t come to confront you – no – but instead saw your gaze match his before going back to the slice of cake he was indulging himself in while with his brother. Though that didn’t stop him from glancing over every now and then. “And please, Ma du lac doesn’t need to know what I thought. I was just worried is all. Louis doesn’t seem to like me all too much at the moment. I can’t find what needle got stuck in his ass, but the moment I do, I’ll yank that grumpy mug completely. That way he won’t be runnin around frown’n all the damn time.”

Grace practically cackled as such a thought, wiping away a stray tear before gently touching against the spot she pinched, though now you were on high alert in case she decided to bruise you anymore than she’s already done. “Well, know that you’re welcome here and that I’m very happy you came. Enjoy yourself country boy. Looks like you may have needed a day out anyways. You look like a lost puppy over here at the table! For someone who runs a club, I didn’t take you as the shy type of man. I can introduce you to some people if you’d like.”

“No need!” You quickly held your hands up and laughed it off. “I’m just not used to gatherings like this I guess. I’ve only been here for a few months, so being invited to your wedding – it wasn’t what I was expect’n. Anyhow, I can mingle by myself, I assure you. You two enjoy your night, Grace,” giving a short nod as a farewell to the female, you did the same to her partner. “– Levi.”

It wasn’t long before you found yourself far from most of the commotion, picking at the plate of chocolate cake that you happened to pick up.

“Didn’t expect you to be here…”

What was it with the Du lacs’ and their ability to scare you, while compromised with food or a drink no less? You cleared your throat before turning to Louis who didn’t look none too pleased to see your face. “Well, I said this before, I’ll say it again. I didn’t expect to be here neither. Your…Your sister invited me last minute. I was hesitant to even come, I didn’t want to…upset you more than I already have bein’ around here and all.”

Louis had always been a wildcard to you. He was a smart man, you knew that, but he was always shot down and put under the boot of the white man because of the color of his skin. You found it insulting that the world today would treat those with different colors and tints to their skin like stray dogs – tossing them scraps when they feel sorry, a sliver of a bone when they do something that pleases them, a collar…when they want someone loyal to work for them. But if they grew tired of them, found even the slightest bit of fight or defiance? They’d dispose of them or throw them in a hole they wouldn’t be able to dig themselves out of.

You knew discrimination when you saw it, heard it even. And you knew first hand how it felt, even with your own family looking down on you, not because of the way you looked, but because of what you presented yourself as. Louis had a name for himself, but respect was rarely a two way street when someone of a higher status spoke to him. But you saw yourself as equals, human beings. There was no ill will you bore towards him, but you couldn’t understand the ill will he held towards you.

Seeing as Louis hadn’t responded, you found yourself a bit awkward and out of place. “Seems I’ve…overstayed my welcome. Tell Paul I said hello, I'll get out of your hair.”

“Wait–” Suddenly you felt a hand grip against your arm, tugging you gently before a sigh came from the other. “Look, I…I don’t hate you man. Grace chewed me out good when I told her I didn’t care to see your face around. I guess I just – I don’t know, I haven’t been myself lately is all. I’ve been a little unfair to you. Hell, even Paul says you're a walking angel…or something like that? What I’m saying is, I judged you too harshly before gettin’ to know you.” In that moment, Louis spoke with sincerity in his voice, though all you could hope is that it came from the heart as well.

“If that’s your way of apologizing, I ain’t complaining.” There was a cheeky smile that appeared on your face before you gave the other a knowing look. “If you wanted to really say you’re sorry, I’d love to see an encore of – what did you call it? The ‘ABCDEFGs’, was it?”

“Oh god, now don’t you go start’n nothin man!” Louis playfully punched your shoulder and flashed his brilliant white teeth as a smile appeared against his face. A much better look than him always running around with a frown, is what you thought.

“Well, I ain’t never seen nobody tap their feet like that, ain’t had a clue that the Louis du lac knew how to put on a show!” You joked on.

“Yeah, and it’s a first – and the last time you see’n any of that. You lucky it’s Graces wedding, I’d have been halfway down the quarter the moment those shoes came out if it wasn’t.” Louis let out a bit of laughter as you two seemed to go back and forth. He assumed that maybe he just had a little too much wine or maybe one too many slices of cake, that the sugar and the alcohol was getting to him. How did he not notice how much of a joy it was to be around you?

You didn’t bring anything dreary or depressing to the table, nor did you try to flex wealth or name to him, even upon meeting him. Maybe he’d invite you around more, for dinners, maybe an outing if he had time between handling his own work. It was a moment between you two before both your laughters died down and the voices of others clambering about reached your ears. The space between the two of you was impregnated by a comfortable silence shared, though it seemed as if something was being held back.

“So how has–”

“So how have you–”

You both stopped and chuckled before you nodded your head towards Louis. “Go ahead, and don’t fight me on it. If you do, I’ll forget what I was tryin to tell ya in the first place. It happens a lot, believe me. I got it in my head, so–” You then gestured for him to continue as you had started a quick ramble, trying to keep your question at bay and at the forefront of your mind before it disappeared.

“Right…?” He spoke, squinting at you for a moment before shaking his head. “Was just wondering, how you and Lestat was doin’ is all. Curious.” It seemed as if he was just as uncomfortable as he was eager for an answer when saying his name. You couldn’t blame him. Lestat was on Louis like a tick on a dog before you appeared, and after? It seemed like you were his new attraction, though after whatever disagreement or argument they last had, Louis seemed to have given him the cold shoulder.

“Honestly?...I’m not much sure myself. Figure he done got tired of lil old me is all. Haven’t seen him in some time now, a few weeks or so. Nothing to get all down about really. Flaunted about how I made him laugh and..a little more, but nothin special Louis. Last I heard, Les was looking for you. Kept wondering why it seemed like you were hidin’ from him.” You spoke truthfully as Louis’ brows furrowed together in thought before he swatted his hand.

“I stopped doing business with him. I figured I’m good on my own as is. It just wasn’t a right fit is all. Better that he’s not around no more. I can actually focus for once.” Picking up the wine glass he once abandoned while speaking to you, he took a sip before continuing, pointing a finger at you with the same hand that held said drink.. “So, what was it that you wanted to ask me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, but clearly the thought had already gone like the wind. Louis took that silence into consideration before sighing.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you forgot?”

“Slipped my mind a bit, yeah,” you say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head as you watched Louis smile behind his cup, shaking his head at your antics. “If I can’t remember, it couldn’t have been that important!” Though truth be told, you had another question now rolling about in your mind. Did he know about what Lestat truly was under the guise of being this charming foreigner who stumbled across such a place?

“Anyways, besides still handling the club right now, I’ve been enjoying the daylight hours much more. Sometimes…club gets boring. Same band playing twice that week? Pass. Place won’t burn down or go under if I leave for a night or two to sleep. Been visiting, though everyone said you’d been busy or asleep for the most part. Guess stopin to smell the roses every once in a while ain’t too bad.”

Louis returned a small smile to you. “You seem like you’re doing alright for yourself,” he praised, patting you on the shoulder. “If you ever need any help, I’m around. And from what I know so far, Grace ain’t gon’ leave you alone no way. If she had it her way, you’d be another brother I’d have to take care of.”

“Take care of? Me? I think that would be my job if anything. And look, Levi is already lookin at me like I’mma steal his wife away. It ain’t my fault she likes my company so much! Well that and she’s been craving those sugar cookies I brought some months ago. Promised I’d share the recipe at one point or another.” Suddenly you made a pained face as Louis slapped your arm in the exact spot that Grace pinched you, twice.

“Those were yours?!”

Rubbing against your poor sore arm, you nodded.“Yeah? Look, I can’t cook actual meals without damn near burning down half the block. I’m more useless than a pair of tits on a horse in the kitchen! Baking, that’s when you can be messy on purpose and try all sorts of stuff in the kitchen.”

Louis sighed with a grin on his lips before looking at you, this time having claimed the knowing look. “Well, now you’ll have me pounding at your door whenever I have a sweet tooth. Could have sworn they were some sort of imported sweets or somethin like that. Grace nearly took my hand for the last one.”

“I don’t doubt that, but she’ll take more than just your hand iffen she hears you getting the recipe before her.”

“Oh you know she wouldn’t do anything that crazy…”

The two of you paused and then glanced at each other for a split second before bursting out into laughter. Louis was half kneeled over while holding an arm against his stomach all while you tried to keep your balance with one hand on the table directly behind you. It took about a minute or two for the both of you to calm down, Louis wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Didn’t mean to have you all tickled t..tonight,” you stated as you proceeded to calm yourself down.

“I think they put something in the wine, I’m telling you.” Louis held up his nearly finished glass before turning and hearing you yawn. It was getting late, but for him, this was most likely going to be an all night event.

“I should be headin back to my place. Been up all day as nervous as a bull in a nursery. Not a wink of sleep either. Was worried I’d be out of place or that I was overdressed, or that the invite slipped through the wrong mailslot.” You never normally had anxiety play such a big part in your life, but it had you running rampant all morning.

Unable to think properly, your room was still a mess after throwing clothes out of the closet and stressing about what looks best with your favorite pair of boots. Lestat would have known how to dress you accordingly – now that was something that you truly missed. He refused to let you go out looking like a hot mess, though he didn’t mind dragging that hot mess around a corner and doing whatever came to mind when he felt like it.

“I take the blame for that. Shouldn’t have made you feel like I hated you so much. You’re pretty alright…’country boy’.” There was once again a grin on Louis face at the teasing name, noticing the eye roll as you soon said your goodbyes. As Grace called for her brother and you snuck another swig of wine on your way out, your exit was cut short by someone stepping right in front of you. And to your surprise, it was Paul.

Paul.

A sweet boy, his mother calling him fragile while others outside the family called in delusional. You weren’t one to ever judge, and you weren’t starting either. You were one of the few people who listened to Paul truly, not from being a patron of the church, not being paid in anyway. You knew his mind was different from others, but he was still flesh and blood, still human.

He never hurt anyone, and to call him crazy was more of an insult to him, and would do no good. You never thought he was crazy, not once. Just blessed in a different way, though you couldn’t help but to have your concerns. When he spoke to himself, knowing he’s been in and out of the institution, and how everyone seemed to worry – it would keep anyone on edge. But everytime he spoke to you, he never gave you any trouble. He was loved, and you could only hope that he kept a good head on his shoulders.

“Paul! It’s nice to see you again! I was just askin–” Suddenly he grabbed both your arms, a worried look appearing on your face as you looked back at his own concerned form.

“Are you still talking to him? That..”

“Les? No..I ain’t spoke to him in sometime. Is everything…okay Paul?”

“Keep away from him.” He spoke in urgency. “Louis is being dragged by that man – no – that devil. He ain’t got his claws in you yet, he’s tryin. Don’t let him take your wings, your light, please.” Paul warned, though his grip was as if you were going to disappear if he even thought to let you go. “Are you faring well? The birds asked about you, about your mind.”

“I’ve been alright, I assure you Paul. I want to put your uneasiness to rest, I’m takin’ good care of myself and can only hope that you are too.” You placed your hands against his own arms, giving him a reassuring squeeze before seeing him nod slightly, letting his grip slide and hands fall to his sides. “Been thinkin about what I’mma do with myself. Only job I have is running the club currently, I’ve started taking breaks though. Feels good, clearing my mind a much as my body. Sometimes you need a break from the loud music and attention, it gets to be too much for some people – for me. Being in the company of a good book at the end of the day can sometimes cleanse the soul.”

It wasn’t until then that a thought came to mind and you dug in your pocket, pulling out a silver chain necklace with a dove and a cross charm dangling from it. “Meant to give you this a while ago. Was from my own. I thought that maybe you’d find better use in it than me.”

Paul blinked for a moment, looking at the necklace in slight awe and confusion as it puddled into his hand, the chiliness of the metal bringing slight goosebumps. He looked at the piece of jewelry before rapidly shaking his head, balling his hand around it before trying to stuff it back in your hands, “I can’t – I couldn’t, you need them. Close to your heart.”

“Paul, please...I don’t mind. They would probably want it this way anyhow, not like any of my family’s gon ask about it anyhow.” As Paul opened his hand to drop the necklace in your palms, he could no longer feel it as your hands wrapped around his one. When you pulled away, none of you had it in your hands. Instead, it was somewhat wrapped around his wrist, a little trick you learned some time ago.

“I have to go, Paul, but I’ll see you soon, alright? Tell Ma du Lac I said hello, and make sure that brother of yours behaves!” You called out as you started making your way out of the yard, having eaten and drank your fill, and knowing Paul had yet to realize the necklace was on his wrist. When he did, he’d do his best to give it back to you, but you’d be too far gone for that to happen.

As you finally made your escape, you listened to the band play and as the music got further and further as you walked your way home. It was some distance away, but you couldn’t trust yourself to drive – not like many people trusted you behind the wheel anyways. You assumed that you would simply resume the life you lived before Lestat – thinking that he may have left the city, found some other enjoyment elsewhere, but he didn’t seem like the type to do so. That didn’t sound like your Lestat.

Your thoughts paused for a moment and a frown appeared on your lips. He wasn’t truly yours. You didn’t know what relationship the two of you shared, though his sweet words always seemed to seduce you back into his arms.

But you could say the same, how whenever you swooned over him, he seemed to melt right into your arms, begging you to tell him what he may have missed from being busy the days prior, or to simply know what thoughts were running through your head. And you knew his tricks – that he was more than fully capable of reading your mind, yet he would ask you. He would sprawl across your body like a common house cat while you’d yammer on, combing your fingers through his blonde locks while he cooed in his french tongue.

Shaking your head and trying to rid of the bittersweet memory that left an odd taste in your mouth, instead savoring the night you spent speaking with Louis and his family, not knowing what sort of darkness would soon befall them once the sun rose.

The rest of your night was spent in the comforts of your room, spending a few hours cleaning, biding time, too exhausted to manage a club and too caught in your own thoughts to go chasing after Lestat like a dog. You knew where he stayed, but he was free spirited. Did what he want when he wanted. Did as he pleased. Who were you, a small country boy who stumbled upon a vampire – who would you be to try and stop him? You could have prowled in the nighttime to try and look for him, but at the end of the day, he was the vampire, and you?

Human.

Your days and nights turned normal, more than you really wanted. There was no thrill, no real spark other than the new people that appeared every now and then at the club, new faces, new performances. And as the name of your club spread throughout the south, your name grew in popularity. There was a time where you’d presented yourself on stage after weeks of new encounters, introducing yourself before the main performance came on. Apparently your pre-show talk had the audience in tears, laughing, clapping, and asking for more.

You had a way about yourself to somehow make the room that much brighter. Comedy was now your limelight, though it didn’t take a genius to know that things came to you naturally. It wasn’t normal for cubs at the time, but it was your business after all.

Outside the club, a few weeks after the wedding, you learned of Pauls’ passing. You stopped by to state your condolences to the family, and even happened to ask where Louis went. When you finally got in touch with Grace – seeing as his Mama had nothing good to say about him – she said he’d done ran off. Whether it be the guilt of not being able to protect his brother from themself or because of all the sudden burdens he felt collapse onto him all at once. You knew Louis was probably devastated, but his sudden disappearance? It had Lestat written all over it, though you had once again heard nothing from one or the other, so what was the point in chasing after a ghost?

The next few months, Lestat seemed to fade into the back of your mind, nearly forgotten. Your days grew busier and the months grew bitter. Life went on as if the vampire never existed. Grace and yourself wrote weekly when you didn’t have time to visit and vice versa. She’d attended one of your shows when she had the time, with Levi in tow and the two even agreed that you were quite the comedian, though they weren’t much club goers.

Of course it wasn’t an every night thing and you had most definitely started to enjoy the mornings where you could occupy yourself and destress from the night before. Having to be around people, entertain, greet, drink, talk with others everyday got tiring real fast. If you didn’t catch a break or have a little ‘you’ time, people would start seeing a not-so friendly side of you that only showed up if you were woken up rudely. Overstimulated, if you will.

There were nights where you grew lonely, where the words on a page couldn’t serve much as companions. Not that Shakespere was the best partner in crime, but it did some to escape the dry and plain days that left you bored itching for something new. You weren’t one to walk the strip, not with the people that normally ran past those parts. You had no problem with the girls, but at the moment, none seemed to fit your taste, and none too many men were as open as you were.

You got the occasional gossip from one Jane to the other John – how people questioned the way you dressed, the way you spoke, how you acted between man and woman and who’s attention you’d seek out the most. You didn’t let such a thing get to your head, whether it was discrimination for which way your pendulum swung or otherwise.

But it didn’t seem to stop trouble from coming your way.

Occasional threats in the mail, rocks thrown at your windows in the dead of night, your car tires being slashed and car scratched to hell, yet no one ever knew how it happened or who did it. None of your neighbors knew, turning a blind eye and moving on. Typical. Getting replacements weren’t much of a problem, not when the club paid most of the bills, but it was a constant reminder of how people saw you, and how they would treat you like any other they found to be different.

The worst of it happened when you were stuck walking home one night, all by your lonesome and of course you just happened to stumble upon a group of soldiers, sailors – whoever they were – who’d either heard about you or seen one of your shows. A quiet walk turned into a limp home, bruises adorning your body and a soreness coming from your ribs. You knew better, knew how to defend yourself and de-escalate things when the heat rose.

Unfortunately you’d been dealt the shit hand. Having been up against two, you may have had better chances, but five men that were drunk off their asses? There was no chance for you, and at that rate, it was better to cover your head and tuck while they dealt whatever repressed rage onto your body. Nearly gave you a shiner — instead delivering you a rather nasty gash through your left brow. Thankfully your body took more blows, but the soreness would just be another thing to sleep off.

After all, it was just another Friday night for you – and another one-liner for your comedy act.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Another champagne for you Mr…”

“Nah, not right now, but thank you Miss Rosey, though I think the boys in booth four might need another round. And if they are giving you any trouble–”

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll know if they’ll cause trouble for me!” The server gave you a mischievous smile and a wink before she made her way over to the designated booth while you were left to your lonesome in your own private booth. You’d been listening to the band play for about half an hour before you started to tune it out, the noise fading into the background as you inked paper on folded knee. You’d started writing after some time, whether it was your thoughts or not, you weren’t quite sure. The words flowed like music, maybe more, but it was hard to decipher yourself. They were just words after all, blurbs, word vomit that you needed to get out before the thoughts left you. As you were feverishly writing, line after line, you heard your name in an almost questionable fashion. The first time it seemed to be a blur in between the music, maybe just a buzzing in the back of your head.

The second time seemed to focus you back to reality, the music coming back as loud and as blaring as it was before. Your head turned up, brows furrowing as a man stood in front of the circular table that separated the half circle booth and themselves. “Sorry, I…I was a little too focused on myself, need something?” The paper on which you wrote on was slipped and closed into a small booklet that you now settled on the table. The man that called out your name was not someone you’d seen before or even met – and you were damn good with names and faces, a little quirk that always kept people on their toes.

“I was just wondering if you were the owner of said establishment, heard a bunch of people yapping about it so I came over to chat was all!” He held a hand out to you before finally introducing himself. “Name’s Viktor Sawyer, new around here.”

“I can tell,” you replied, gripping his hand before shaking it. “You don’t sound like you’re from here no way. Where’d you hightail it from kiddo?”

“Kiddo?” He laughed, “You look just as young as me, maybe younger. But me? I’m from upstate. Took a heap load of train rides, boat down the Mississippi, ended up here after an all day ride in the back of a box car after my last ticket was stolen.” The man seemed to joke at the end of his sentence, but it was all too real for how easy it was for some people to get pickpocketed. “Mind if I?...” Viktor then gestured to the booth in which you rolled your head and patted against the booth.

“Oh, I don’t mind, but the ghost might find it pretty rude if you give them an unwanted lapdance.” As you shrugged and looked at the young man, they stared back at you with confusion before a small chuckle left their lips, understanding that you were simply poking fun at the moment.

“I’m sure the ‘ghost’ wouldn’t mind it at all. Probably the most action than they’ve had in some years, yeah?” He joked right back, sending a quirky smile of your own onto your face. It'd been sometime since someone tended to match your energy, not that you were complaining.

“Champagne?” You offered up, tilting your glass towards the side. “And you can't just say you’re from upstate and expect me not to be curious. Down here, we ain't much for keeping secrets, and I ain't got no ill will towards strangers, so don't be shy.” Gesturing for one of the server girls, you two would be sharing words for the majority of the night.

Now, your club was as thriving as all get up, but there was always a drawback as it was back in the days. Only certain people could get in, people with money, people with a name. No old Sam on the street could just waltz their way in, it was almost prestigious in a way. Not like you cared much for the highlights, seeing as you came to New Orleans a simple man with ideas of starting new. Of making your name for yourself. It almost happened overnight – it did happen overnight.

It wasn’t to be expected, but it was a pleasant surprise. The thought of the blonde vampire, creature of darkness, the man who seduced you with not only words, but his entirety…he’d done so much for you. And all you did was make him laugh. A joyful, boyish, carefree laugh as if he hadn’t laughed in centuries. True laughter, pure, not from a cruel dead or joke – not to spite someone – it was simply the joy he amounted by being with you.

Beyond the past thoughts of Lestat, you indulge yourself in Viktor Sawyer, a businessman from New York. After getting a few drinks in him, he spoke about his travels and the unsavory events that came with it. He was a workaholic as much as he was an alcoholic. He was looking for work, a partnership more like but he didn’t specify what. He had been twice divorced, let slip out that he seemed to dance to a different tune – not that you minded – but three hours passed and he was drunk on booze and wine.

He was a good six foot tall man, granted, he was a handsome fellow. Piercing green eyes, slick, short blonde hair, the suit he wore looked too tight on him. At one point the two of you were laughing at nonsense yet you were still somewhat sober, having only sipped through a glass or two while Viktor had ordered something a little stronger – had enough money to pay past the bill and even laid out a grand tip for the waitress.

Which led you to where you were now, roaming the streets of the quarter with a drunk businessman on your shoulder. It wasn't a great look for you as allegations and rumors were soon to spread, but at such a late time in the night others would probably be as drunk as Viktor was. His words were slurred but it seemed he was trying to flirt with you, hand running down the side of your neck and down your chest, doing his best to fiddle with the buttons on your white dress shirt.

And with him unable to tell you where he was staying, your only other option was to either leave him to some mugger or – to be a gentleman and let him sleep off the drinks for the night under a roof.

You just wished that it didn’t have to be yours.

By the time you’d gotten through the front door, Viktor draped over your own body like he was trying to be worn, you sighed heavily. “Alright Vik, gonna get you some water, let ya rest till the morn.” You were somewhat tired, seeing as your nights and days blurred and your body always needed a good 12 hours before it could get used to your odd schedule. You watched as the businessman seemed to flop himself on the couch with a bit of your guidance as well, reaching up to try and tug you down with him, “Vik–”

“Ain’t gotta be like that sweetheart, just returning the favor!” Viktor had already stripped off whatever overcoat was on his body, his breath reeking of alcohol as it wafted against your face. It caused you to inwardly cringe at the smell, but you knew the man was drunk off his ass. You weren’t much in the mood either, not like you’d seen much action in some time. But the man was intoxicated as hell and you weren’t interested. He leaned in close, trying to hold your face before you snatched yourself away.

“Viktor, come on buddy. I can’t do this, believe me. You’re a…nice guy and all but uh…”

“Oh baby please, you were lookin’ at me like I was a damn meal back at the club. Don’t tell me ya’ kept me laughing just for kicks?” He slurred, leaning in once more and almost placing his entire body weight onto you. Is that what he thought? That you wanted to get him into bed, even though it simply seemed like you two were just having a good time as newly acquainted friends. “Come on babes, you know how to have a fun time, right?”

Your eyes rolled as you helped Viktor onto his feet once more, watching as he stumbled to try and finger your shirt off. Even as you led him into your room and pushed him onto the bed, he sat back with a cocky grin upon his face. “Nuff with the nicknames ‘Slick’. Imma get you some water, now lay ya’ ass down. I brought you here because you could barely tell me where you were stay’n. Now, cool down before I do what my ma would do and beat the sense out and back into ya’.”

It was only then that when you turned around to walk away, your arm was grabbed and suddenly you were pulled into his lap. Yes, you could handle yourself against the man, not afraid of him at the least. You’d dealt with much scarier than a horny, boozed up businessman.

Scoffing, you felt his sloppy movements of his arm wrapping around your waist and a hand at the front of your throat. No wonder he was twice divorced with such a limp wrist on him. You didn’t care about how he seemed to whisper in your ear or try to kiss against your neck. It only made you retract, snatching yourself away again before hearing Viktor almost whine out. “Baby–”

“I ain’t ya’ baby, Viktor,” you stated plainly, back towards the man before continuing. “And don’t make me regret doing the right thing.”

“Taking me home?”

“Taking you in rather than leave’n you out of the street!” It was then that you felt Viktor cop a feel, in which case something in you turned. You whipped around, quick movements before your hands pinned Viktors against the bed, staring him down as you hovered over his body, straddling his waist as you kept him from moving or trying to make another move on you. Staring him down, you did your best to show some sort of intimidation, but the sudden actions seemed to spur the drunkard on, biting his bottom lip in amusement.

“Got no problem with you being on top either, I can play that game with you!”

You groaned out in annoyance, feeling the mans’ growing arousal as he tried to roll his hips up into yours. “Tired of your shit Viktor, get it together.” Pushing him back onto the bed with no sympathy for his drunken stupor you made your way out of the room, leaving the man to call your name as he sprawled upon the bed. You could hear him calling as you slipped into the kitchen and instead of fixing him anything to help him sober up, you splashed your own face. When did you get so strict, so antsy? You hadn’t had a night to yourself in some time. And for someone to be in your bed, to want to indulge in filthy pleasure, who were you to deny him? He was good looking, but drunk off his ass. And from the sounds of it, he wanted to be the one to lay you out for the night. You definitely weren’t interested.

Couldn’t seem to figure out if something was wrong with you at the time. Not to say you weren’t flattered by the other advances, before and after he was sloshed, but you felt nothing in retaliation. You simply had a good laugh, a few drinks, you hadn’t meant to charm him or give off that you wanted to sleep with him. Or did you? Lonely nights in an empty bed, an empty home no less. You weren’t the least bit interested in the whorehouse, not as if you didn’t care for the ladies themselves – calling you sweetheart and whatnot – but it wasn’t your current taste.

Splashing water onto your face, you calmed your racing thoughts down. Maybe one night wouldn’t hurt. Maybe something like this would help your mood from the normal drag. You were afraid you’d end up all mugfaced and mopey like Louis if you didn’t have time to truly enjoy yourself without it being a job or forcing yourself to do so. As water dripped down your face, your thoughts were split between “what would change in one night,” and “I don’t even like him like that! I’ll just sleep it off on the couch”.

Your mind seemed to go quiet just as Viktors calls for you went silent. Only then did you thank the higher powers that he finally passed out or gave up on his attempts to get you back there. Stripping off your own overcoat and walking back into the main room of your home, you dropped said cloth on the floor only to stand there frozen, stiff as a board once your head moved to look up rather than at your feet.

“Lestat?”

Your lungs seemed to lose air as you stared at him, confused as much as you were shocked. You questioned yourself, not knowing if you made him up in your fit of loneliness or if he was actually there, in the dim lighting of the room. He stood there, at the bottom of the steps that lead to your room but also against the wall that was directly across from the doorway of the kitchen.

That flawless face, chiseled jaw, god given face, wavy blonde hair you ran your fingers through more times than you could remember, his broad yet sculpturesque physic, those blue pools you’d get lost in no matter the time of day – it was him. In all his glory. It was only then that you finally came to your senses and realized that there was red dripping from his hands, not only coating his fingers, but it was dragged over his mouth – smeared – and slung across his shirt like a work of art. There was an almost unreadable look in his grey-blue hues, ones that could and did challenge the most beautiful of days, shaming the sky in comparison.

He didn’t move, almost like a statue, but with – what you could only assume was blood – slowly dripping down his fingers and onto the floor, it reminded you that you were not frozen in time. That he was there in all his glory, missing his normal presten overcoat that would go beautifully with whatever suit or undershirt he chose to wear, his blonde wavy hair let down, a bit unkempt compared to how neat and groomed he normally kept himself, but his body was still as water, as unmoving as a statue.

Almost.

You could barely tell if he was breathing, the stillness of his body startling you as you trekked carefully but moved in closer to him. It was only then when you inched towards the vampire did you notice the small trembles, the minute quivering of his hands that slowly clenched into bloody fist, nails digging into his palms. His chest rose and expanded as he took a breath in through his nose, jaw tightening as he stared you down. A sliver of fear seemed to jump up your spine at the subtle movement, but it didn’t stop you from slowly closing in. You were a mere stride away from standing directly in front of him, but before you could call out his name again, like a ticking time bomb – he exploded.

“You fool!” He roared out, causing you to nearly stumble back onto your ass. There was a look of anger written all over his face that was once completely unreadable. “You! You are pathetic! Ungrateful! Rien qu'une plaisanterie vivante, affamée d'amour et d'attention!” A loud crash could be heard as he used his strength to knock over a display, the power behind his hand flinging the rather sturdy and wooden case into the wall across the room as it caught air. Wood chips splintered every which way, glass shattering and sprinkling onto the floor. Your eyes flicked from the damage to the man who stood before you, chest now heaving as he started spewing curses in his french tongue and pointing at you.

You could barely understand him, though a few curses here and there from what he taught you, but you were more confused than scared at the moment. Fear was in the back of your mind, not as present as the sudden concern. “Les! What are you on about?”

“Espèce d'idiot! Espèce d'idiot de campagne, de petit ver de terre! Do not play dumb with me!” Lestat proceeded to call you out by your name as he spewed what you could only depict as insults.

Suddenly he started laughing.

His seemingly harmless chuckles escalated into full blood cackles, the man laughing harder and harder till it seemed almost hysterical. His pupils were dilated, fangs bared with blood dripping slowly down his chin, and his hand shaking as he continued to spew fire in your direction. “You think that you can replace me? De copier quelque chose qui ne peut pas être remplacé! Do you know who I am chéri?” Lestat questioned, almost softly before his tone roared out once again. “Do you know what I am!?”

“Lestat, what happened? You come in here all covered in blood after being away for this long, yelling at me?”

The vampire could not hear you, not over his constant ranting and yelling and french tongue that seemed to go on, venom seeming to be laced in every consonant and syllable. “After everything that I have given you! Comme mon cœur bat pour toi! Et pourtant tu essaies de faire en sorte qu'un salaud blond essaie d'être moi?! HA! Your funniest attempt at a joke yet! To stoop so low!”

“Les…” You were now more concerned than ever, watching as he stared pacing as if to restrain himself at the moment, his nails having swiped at the wall, ripping up the wallpaper and digging into the bricks that were settled underneath, carving into the harsh material while his hand remained unscathed.

“You are just like any other! Pitoyable! L'excuse la plus triste pour un homme! Rien qu'un chien qui a soif et aboie pour en savoir plus! Tellement impatient que vous ayez essayé de trouver quelque chose dont il n'y en a qu'un!” Lestat cackled as he seemed to move back and forth, looking towards you with a predatory gaze before looking at the floor, shaking his head and almost growling. Restraining himself.

“Les!” You tried again to call out for him, but he did not waver.

“Humans, you are all the same…! You are all ungrateful, insatiable pests! Meat for the slaughter and lambs for wolves! Je devrais vous vider et regarder la vie pitoyable que je vous ai fournie clignoter brièvement dans votre cerveau idiot..what was I thinking! You! You?!” He pointed at you once again, the manic grin never leaving his face. “J'ai eu pitié d'un chien qui n'a aucune loyauté!”

“Lestat! Calm–”

“Good for nothing! A dull piece of entertainment! A clown above all clowns! Une pitoyable excuse de fils! No wonder your kin left you high and dry!”

“Lestat!–”

“Une pitoyable excuse pour un humain! Who would ever want you anyways! Laper goulûment ce qui reste d'une bonne chose! An ungrateful mutt!” His voice came out raw, almost hurt as he overwhelmed your own voice, giving you no space to speak.

“Les–”

“N'étais-je pas assez bien pour toi?! Je ne te suffisais pas! Too boring for the great comedian you came to be?! Est-ce pour cela que vous avez choisi de vous coucher avec une excuse pathétique pour un remplacement!?”

“Le–”

“Je ne suis pas assez bien pour toi!? Assez bon pour garder seul votre amour seul?! Is that too much to ask for!?”

“LESTAT!”

Your voice seemed to boom with sudden authority, your hands finding his wrist before pushing his body back into the wall, practically sandwiching him between that and your own body. The room that was once filled with the rampant yelling and swears of French from Lestat and your desperate attempts to call out for him were now silenced. It was now only the pants between the both of you as his was from his outburst, you, from the sudden burst of adrenaline that seemed to flow through your veins. The two of you stared each other down, getting lost in one another's gaze.

Lestat had never heard you so demanding, never having raised your voice in such a way, not even in a playful manner towards him. You’d never been rough with him, and even in bed he would have to coax you to handle him with something other than tenderness in the mix. Your grip on his wrist was enough to bruise any other human, but the strength you’d projected was enough to stun the vampire out of pure shock.

The once tense and chaotic air calmed as the two of you stood in silence, you waiting for him to calm down and get he was waiting on you to yell at him, attempt to hit him, hurt him for the destruction and his outburst. His temper was unruly, unpredictable like the weather sometimes, but he'd never flared up in front of you in such a way.

But instead of harsh words or screams back in his face after all he said and done – most you could barely understand – you'd slowly shifted your hands. Moving from holding his wrist, up his arms and shoulders and to his face, cupping it gently, while the same concerned look lingered in your loving gaze. “Les…speak to me. Here I was, worried sick about you for weeks on end, and now you come here? Covered in blood and yellin who knows what?”

You did not scold him or respond with hatred. You spoke in a soft tone he almost didn’t recognize, as if trying to coax a scared and wounded animal.

He didn't respond, instead staring at you with mild confusion. Why were you treating him so kindly, even as he looked and acted as if he was two seconds away from ripping your throat out and tearing apart your innards.

Lestats' form looked disheveled, his blood coated dress shirt now somewhat torn, the collar ripped and stretched down, exposing the skin on his right shoulder and arm as the cloth dangled pitifully. A mess he was and yet you held him so gently, spoke to him so kindly, so sickeningly sweet in his eyes.

Your foreheads touched as you leaned in, noses brushing as you claimed his attention yet again, seeing the dazed expression, almost as if he couldn't believe what was happening. You knew the blood on him was from upstairs, that your guest was most likely dead from the bloody footsteps that lead down the main room.

Suddenly his lips lifted in a snarl. “You smell of him, that drunkard—”

“I helped him for the night. Was bein’ kind and all. We had a drink, but I didn't feel anything for him Les.” It was your turn to interrupt him, thumb brushing against his cheekbone as blood stuck to your own palms. You could tell that he was angry, possessive even, but you'd never seen it to this existent. Only then, after holding him for so long did you realize his face was ice cold, blood on his mouth but his body void of warmth.

“Did you not feed on him Les? You're colder than a bare ass in winter.”

Even that seemed to keep him shocked, how you noticed the little things, that the warmth of fresh blood did not flow through him. Only you would pick up such minute details at that moment, only you paid him that much attention. “I cared not for his putrid blood.” He muttered, your gaze holding his own as he wished to look away. He wasn't embarrassed, but it seemed as if he was almost flustered, confused even as his brows pinched.

“You haven't changed much. Still the magnificent…unpredictable Lestat.” You knew now why his anger flared up, the sudden appearance and unprecedented feelings. He didn't like the idea of someone else in your bed, someone who seemed to resemble him – even though you didn't see the two looking any more similar than a black and a white horse. “Lovely, I wasn't gonna lay with him if that's what ya’ think. He wasn't my type anyways,” you attempted to laugh, though it came out as more of a sad half winded chuckle.

“I apparently only have space in my heart for the man who always laughs at my jokes…no matter how bad they are.” Your own gaze lingered towards his stained lips before glancing back up. “For the French man who came to me at the bar, listening to me yap up a storm. Who lied with me in the field and gave me hope for a future…one I thought I would never be worthy of, just as I feel unworthy of the love that man gives me and shows…" As corny as you normally were, this was something you wanted the vampire to understand. That as a human, fragile being that could be killed by his hands, you still loved him. Even now. Even as you tried to forget about him, to think of him as nothing but a dream for as long as he was gone, your heart yearned for him dearly.

As those last words tumbled from your mouth, your lips crashed into each other. It would be humorous to say that sparks flew, but there was a sudden fire that seemed to flare inside of you. It was bound to the both of you, the further in you two got, the hotter and brighter that flame got until it was a raging inferno. The kiss went from being one of longing to a much sloppier, needy entanglement. The metallic taste didn’t bother you, barely phasing you. Your hands went from cradling his face to holding him, threading through his hair and one lowering to his waist to keep his body close. In retaliation, Lestat held your own face, the sticky blood smearing onto the side of his face. You didn’t dare pull away as you felt the nips at your bottom lip, his tongue wrestling with your as your lungs were slowly deprived of oxygen. You mumbled his name against his lips, subtly pulling away to find air, but Lestat refused to let you. He almost let out a possessive growl that rumbled in his chest, almost unnoticeably as he didn’t need air and wanted to soak you up in every way, shape, and form.

By the time you’d been let go, he barely let you move away, foreheads touching yet again as your lungs did their best to regain what was lost. You were panting and lightheaded, a thin string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his, swept away with his tongue. There were no words shared at that moment, lost in each other's loving gazes as your hearts were racing, thundering like wild horses and unruly storms. There was a twister of emotions swirling within the both of you, and yet you simply couldn’t put them into words.

Your lips pressed against his briefly, only to start peppering kisses onto his skin. Against the side of his lips and down his jaw, against his bloody throat, down to his collar and shoulder. You left a trail, admiring him, pampering him, spoiling him with your love and adoration like you normally did. Something you never strayed from. Your kisses kept, from his shoulder down his exposed arm, all the way down to his blooded knuckles in which you pressed your lips to as if he was royalty. “Les,” you muttered against his hand, watching as he seemed to shudder.

The look in your eyes had shifted to something more, a desire, a hunger. He could feel your sudden desire, blazing like the fire that roared within you.

You both wanted each other, needed each other.

Bad.

“Lestat–” The vampire in question hushed you with his finger, tilting you chin before pressing a kiss against your lips yet again. When he pulled away, he practically purred out.

“One moment mon chéri..” His voice was barely above a whisper as you chased after his lips, whining as he slipped away from your hold and moved up the stairs. When he was suddenly out of sight, you were left standing alone and wishing for him to come back in your arms, but you would be patient, just one last time. But now that you were here, you were like an excited puppy who’d just been told to sit.

“Course he done got me all riled up, then just…” You gestured towards the stairs as you spoke to yourself, sighing and wiping the blood away from your mouth with the back of your hand. You could only imagine the mess in the room if Lestat had dealt with Viktor. The amount of blood and the fact that he didn’t drink from him was rare, to say he had a distaste for someone's blood when you knew he fed upon others and sapped their life away as easy as a snap of your fingers. And yet he was careful every time he drank from you. Tender, making sure you didn’t pass out or lose consciousness, listening to your heart rate and showing much restraint to not be as greedy as he wanted with you.

Even he knew that if you egged him on, it would be that much harder to contain himself. Fortunately you didn’t have to wait long before your name was called, which caused you to scurry up the stairs so fast that you almost face planted by the time you got to the top, grabbing onto the railing before turning into your room.

It wasn’t as bad as you first thought, the bed looked perfectly fine beside the covers being pulled here and there, but you could see the blood seeping through the carpet on the opposite side of the bed. It was only then that you heard a small whistle, looking over towards the side where the bathroom was. Lestat stood in the doorway, shirtless, the blood on his face and down his neck having been rinsed and wiped off, beside the obvious smudges still left on his skin. Though there was one thing that stood out rather boldly against his skin.

Perfectly painted onto his lips was a rather glossy – oily even – rich scarlet color that popped in comparison to his pale skin.

Not blood.

No.

Lipstick.

He chuckled as he watched your head tilt to the side rather curiously, thankful that he couldn’t feel the heat that traveled to your face. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you mon chéri,” Lestat started as he slowly made his way over to you, almost as if he was prowling. Before you knew it, he’d pushed you back onto the bed, straddling your lap with your face now in his hands. You melted at the feeling, almost as touch starved as he was for you. Your hands now placed on his own waist you pulled him closer, both of your bodies buzzing with a newfound arousal.

Lestat leaned closer to your face once more, head tilting as he captured your lips once more. A hum escaped you as you could taste him yet again, letting out an audible groan as your groins rolled into one another. You wanted him badly. You were smitten with the man, his voice, his touch, the need to have him in your arms and in your bed, it was a greed you wanted to give into.

Another whine left you as his lips left your own, moving to kiss the corner of your mouth and then your cheek. Your jaw was next, his lips pressing against every inch or your jawline and even underneath. He’d kissed down your throat as you tilted your head up, exposing more of yourself to him as he continued his path. Lestat had to stop himself from wanting to prick your throat. He could hear the blood just below your skin, feeling the heat it gave off as it ran, how good it would taste after straying away for so long.

You couldn’t control the moan that left your lips as he showered your throat in almost endless kisses, down your collar and against the crooks of your neck. By the time he’d finished and met with your dazed face again, he seemed very proud of his work.

As your half lidded eyes glanced down at Lestats face, you could see him practically glowing, as radiant as ever, even with the smudged lipstick on his lips.

Though it was your appearance that seemed to get him even more eager to take what was his.

In a flash, you two were on each other, magnetized as your hands groped and felt against one another. Clothes were ripped off, shredded, torn, thrown in this direction and another, but neither of you cared for the mess. You only cared for each other, like you were the only two left in the world. Rolling around on the bed, you ended up locking your arms under Lestat, keeping him in place as you leaned down and assaulted his throat, marking him up the best you could.

You knew he liked it rough, but it was hard to do so when you practically worshiped him. It wasn’t an act, did. But you missed him like the stars and the moon and you wanted him to know that deep down. That you loved him, whether he reciprocated or not. You wanted to be selfish, keep him in your arms forever. And as selfish as it was for you, you only hoped that he wanted the same, even as you were weaker than the vampire himself.

The guttural noises left Lestat as you bit down near the crook of his neck, hands slipping down to his bare thighs as it hooked onto your hips. His head was thrown back into the pillow that rested under his head, blonde hair sprawled out behind his head as he called your name once more, feeling as needy as ever. “Don’t tease me mon chéri, I’ve been too long without you…”

Grunting out, you felt his fingers against the back of your head as you proceeded to leave marks against his throat, hickies and dark bruises, but not deep enough to break or to draw blood like you wished. When you pulled away to look at your work, his hand caressed the side of your face and he watched as you leaned into the feeling pressing your lips against the side of his palm before looking down at him with a sense of yearning. A longing that’s been stirring inside you since the first week you missed him.

“Normally you are the chatterbox instead mon garçon de la campagne. Why the sudden silence?” Even after the intrusion, outburst and overall assault that happened not too long ago, he enjoyed your voice. How you praised him and cared for him so. It was unorthodox that you weren’t speaking, even now. Not to say that he didn’t like your brutish noises as you indulged yourself, but it was one of the qualities that made him attracted to you.

It wasn’t until that statement did you look Lestat dead in the eyes and spoke. “Doll face, I love you to the ends of the world and back, but right now I just want to hear you scream my name.” That seemed to stun the blonde once again. “And I got better uses for ma’ mouth right now. Not enough time to talk.” Your voice shifted towards a lower town as you dipped down to assault Lestat's chest, one of your favorite places to spoil.

As the vampire's voice rang within the room, his back arching off the bed as you did your best to mark up his chest in bite marks of all sorts. You found great joy in seeing his body react in such a way as your mouth enveloped one of his nipples, tracing your tongue around the sensitive nub before using the edge of your teeth to tug, his body pressing up against yours and nearly lifting off the bed itself.

But Lestat wanted more. He’d been away for too long and was tired of the foreplay. “I…I am not a virgin,” he panted out. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Let me treat ya’ like it anyways baby doll…”

And as his eyes rolled to the back of head, your mouth loved on and against every part of his body, your fingers finding spots that made his body curl and mewl in weakness as he wanted more. The slow and tender you fed him lit his entire body up in the best way imaginable, his voice loud enough for anyone in the quarter to hear.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Your back ached as you sat up from the bed, the stinging sensation of Lestat’s nails running down skin lingered even hours after wearing him down the best you could. The beauty in question rested right beside you, curled up in the sheet and his head nuzzled up against your side.

You knew that he wasn’t asleep, but simply closed his eyes to briefly rest. He’d have to return home soon, to rest inside his coffin and to dispose of the body that was unfortunately still slumped against the side of the bed. In the heat of things, you barely cared that there was a dead person mere feet away from you as Lestat was the only thing in your mind through the night. As you made your way off the bed and into the bathroom, your lower waist was just as roughed up from the rather crushing gripped Lestat had with his legs clinging onto you with such force.

You could barely remember how many times you made him cum that night, but it was enough that your own hips were starting to bruise. His voice calling out your own was like a symphony of its own, causing a cheeky smile to appear on your lips. By the time you’d gotten into the bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror, you were shocked. On not only your lips but splayed all over your cheek, neck, and even covering the majority of your collarbone was lipstick stains from Lestat.

It hadn’t registered back then how much he’d done, but now it was clear as day, he marked you. You could remember him muttering how he would erase any trace of that drunk businessman, especially if there were any traces of him on you. Your neck itself was sensitive as all getup, especially after Lestat fed off you that night. No wonder you felt light headed and weak on your feet. “God, I hope this can wash off,” you muttered to yourself, though you weren’t opposed to the idea of Lestat doing this more often.

“I doubt it will…” Lestat stepped in behind you in all his nude glory before hugging against your waist and placing his chin against your shoulder. “And if it does…I’ll do much worse than this.” A grin appeared on his face as his looked at you through the mirror, watching as you replicated the same grin. For the moment, the two of you stayed there, swaying in one another arms before the vampire spoke up. “I..I am cursed with my maker's temper…I meant no harm. I saw that man in your bed when I came to surprise you and–”

“No need for an apology Les…I missed you too.” Turning your head, you kissed against his hair before sighing. “You were gone for so long..thought you’d up and left. Wasn’t gonna bother you no way if you didn’t wanna see me.”

Lestat stared at you in silence for the longest before shifting his gaze elsewhere. “I have a good reason for why I was gone. I did not merely abandon you…but there is someone I have to speak with you about.”

“Who?” There was only one other person that you could think of at the top of your head, especially with the series of events that had happened in the past.

“Louis…”

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

a/n : who let me cook?? Anyways, thank you for reading so far! Replies and repost are appreciated! Thank you for reading!

please do not repost my work on other sites! thank you! - @that-one-malereader-enthusiast

more from @that-one-malereader-enthusiast » MASTERLIST

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[sukipershipper]

trick or treat bitch!!! he couldnt get the lid off his ketchup so he had 2 resort 2 drastic measures <3 <3 <3 

----- HEHEHEHE!! BLOODY GOOBER, I LOVE Hun, get someone else to open it next time you silly dork.  THANK YOU FOR THE BOYS MABS!! Made my morning it did!

[bwabys-scenarios]

Could I get a yandere meruem x reader on her period? Tyy <3

Prized Possession(NSFW)

Yandere!Meruem x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: I wasn’t sure exactly what you wanted so I did a lil nsfw fic, but if you want something SFW/headcanons/etc then please feel free to send another request with specification ^^

warnings: fingering, pussy eating, dubcon, public sex, period sex, breeding, mentions of pregnancy, Pitou treats you like their queen and pampers you, Meruem is HORNY, obsessive and possessive behavior

Yandere NSFW: @lightshowerrr @highbats69 @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart

If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information in my pinned post then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!

It had been two days since Meruem had tightened the metaphorical collar around your neck, keeping you stationed on his lap at all times of the day. His nose stayed buried in your neck, and despite your cries to at least do it behind close doors, his fingers stayed buried in your pussy, lightly pumping into you.

“Shh, shh, my princess. This is for your own good, so don’t complain.”

He curled his fingers in your cunt, pressing down on your abdomen and humming lightly. “Soon… I can smell it.”

Meruem had never been the type to keep you too far out of his reach, but lately his version of love had been absolutely smothering. It wasn’t always revolved around sex, sometimes he would force you into the little nest of blankets and pillows he built for you, or hold you so tight you’d have to remind him of his strength while gasping for air.

He couldn’t stop purring as he ran his hand over your abdomen, continuing to say how “close it was”. You didn’t even want to know what he was talking about, but by the way you started to feel kind of icky and tired, you were beginning to understand.

And you were terrified.

Now, you liked Meruem. He wasn’t as cruel as others made him out to be, and he sure did have quite the soft spot for you, but he still was an inhuman monster that ate humans. And because of his inhumanity, his knowledge of the human body was limited, besides what he read from medical text books and the own way his semi-human instincts reacted to the changes in your hormones.

And that’s how you found yourself being awoken in the middle of the night to Meruem lapping at your cunt, a dull ache in your abdomen.

“Ugh… Meruem…”

He glanced up, his hands on your thighs. “My princess… did I disturb your sleep?”

Although his words sounded sweet, there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. If he wanted you to stay asleep, he could have made sure you did, but instead he decided to gently push at your abdomen as he continued to gorge on your pussy.

It was then you noticed the red on his mouth, and fit a fleeting second you feared the pain you were experiencing was due to him LITERALLY eating your pussy.

But no, it wasn’t anything like that. With another soft push on your abdomen, you watched as blood dribbled into his mouth.

“I knew it was close… how I’ve waited for this time of the month…”

You whined in embarrassment and pleasure, gripping the sheets as you felt his tongue push into your sensitive pussy. “P-please… too much…”

He didn’t stop, and you knew better than to push him away or complain too much. Meruem would never hurt you in anyway, but you knew that no amount of pushing or complaining would make him stop. It would just make him purr and push harder, just enough to put you on the edge of pain and pleasure. A vague discomfort, but not enough to hurt.

So instead of pushing or whining, you whimpered softly, gently stroking his face. He quite enjoyed that, his eyes narrowing in contentment. “Such a good girl… there you go, almost there…”

Meruem took great pride in his ability to make you cum within minutes of being between your legs. He was a natural from the beginning. Of course he was, he was king.

He stayed there, between your legs for what seemed like hours, each orgasm helping to relive the ache in your abdomen. Once he was thoroughly satisfied, he moved up to your face, rutting his hips against yours.

At this point he looked almost feral, his eyes peering down at you as his thick cock rested on your belly. He rubbed it against you, growling as he lowered his blood stained face to yours.

“Kiss me.”

It was only a for a second, but your hesitation caused him to growl lowly. “I won’t repeat myself.”

He gripped your chin, squeezing just enough to make you uncomfortable. You whimpered softly as you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his.

As soon as Meruem felt the touch of your lips, he relaxed. It wasn’t long before you felt his cock prodding at your pussy, and his tongue prodding at your lip.

You really didn’t want to taste your own blood, but you also didn’t want to be scolded, so you obediently opened your lips, just as his cock sank into your bloody cunt.

He allowed you to whine, for your nails to scratch his back as he began to fuck into you. Meruem had the power to stop you whenever he wanted, but he didn’t. How kind he was to you, how lenient he was with his little pet.

“Shh… be a good pet and take it.”

Meruem preferred to be as close to you as possible when fucking you. His instincts told him to keep you pinned down and still, to breed you when he started smelling the sweet pheromones of your menstrual cycle.

Nights like this were exhausting. He needed you so badly, his brain filled with the need to breed you until your belly was heavy with his seed. It didn’t help that you were crying out and moaning beneath him in this sensitive state of yours.

How he loved the sounds you made, the cries and whimpers, the moans and whines. You really were his little princess, the perfect pet to play with in his spare time.

But… at the same time, you were much more than that. When the royal guard suggested he start spreading his seed among the many human women at his disposal, he became angry and almost… guilty. He didn’t want to impregnate some woman he didn’t know, he wanted you and you alone.

Perhaps he did love you. He had read many books, some being novels on romance. Meruem didn’t really understand it at first, but after meeting you he just couldn’t get you out of his head. It was an unhealthy obsession, you were supposed to be a way to waste away his spare time, but now he was beyond attached.

As he filled your womb once again with his cum, he placed a hand over your belly. “My little mate… yes, that’s what you are, my mate…”

He lightly traced circles in your belly with his finger, his eyes soft. The urge to mark you and cover you in his scent was overwhelming. He felt so possessive over you, even though you only interacted with his Royal Guards, he still felt the need to make sure everyone knew you were his.

As your blood soaked into the soft sheets of your shared bed, he finally pulled out, humming softly. “Pitou.”

They were by his side in seconds, not reacting at all to the scene in front of them. Meruem pulled you into his lap, petting you as if you were his exhausted puppy, rather than the woman he deemed his mate.

“Bathe her, dress her, then feed her.”

Without hesitation, they nodded. “Yes, King Meruem.”

You whined softly as Pitou carried you in their arms. One hand was on the soft curve of your ass, and the other was in your hair, soothing you softly. You were their queen, someone Meruem ordered they worship just as much as they worshipped him, so they did just that.

“My queen, I see you’ve come into heat.”

Pitou set you by the bathtub, filling it up with warm water as they used a rag to wipe away the blood from your thighs. After all the access blood was gone, they placed you in the warm water. “Heat..? I guess… that’s what you would call it.”

You relaxed as Pitou washed your body, their hands grazing your soft breasts and thighs. “It seems King Meruem has successfully bred you. It’s an honor to bear the King’s young.”

You watched as Pitou caressed your belly, right over your womb. You weren’t sure how they would know you were pregnant, surely there was no way you were already. “The King’s semen is potent, you’ll be with child soon.”

Ah, that explained it. They just assumed since you and Meruem had sex, that there was no way you weren’t pregnant. You’d laid with Meruem several times before, but this time… he was really adamant about filling you up.

Pitou rinsed you before scooping you up as if you were just a kitten. They dried you off, grabbing a pair of panties for you with the pad already applied. It was a bit humiliating how much the royal guards babies you, but you couldn’t do much about it. Once you were dressed, Pitou purred softly, butting their head against your hand.

Meruem didn’t allow for much affection, but you did. You smelled so much like him, and as the queen you were the second best, and the only one other than Meruem that Pitou would be so docile for. “Mmph, my queen…”

You let them carry you back to your chambers, where Pouf and Youpi were waiting with a meal, prepared just for you. Meruem sat on your now freshly cleaned bed, reading a book. He looked up for only a second, giving you a knowing smile.

“Eat, you need your energy. You’re losing blood, so it’s iron rich.”

You sat down, Pitou laying their head in your lap as you ate. You were surprised at how lenient Meruem was with Pitou, but the ant just saw Pitou as nothing more than your pet, and his servant. The cat like ant purred and mewed softly as you petted their head. It was a bit strange, but it was the only physical contact you got outside of Meruem. The other two royal guards didn’t seem to like you as much, more like they put up with your presence to keep their king happy.

After you finished your meal, Meruem set his book down. “Come.”

Pitou set up immediately so you could follow Meruem’s orders. You stood, wobbling slightly, causing Pitou to shoot up and accompany you. They acted like a mama cat, grooming your hair as they guided you to Meruem’s side.

Pitou set you down, the kneeled next to Meruem as he pulled you into his lap. “Sleep, you need rest. Do not think this was the only breeding session, this process will happen until your heat is over.”

You knew that Meruem was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn’t a liar, and he didn’t over exaggerate. If he said you needed rest, you would.

You slid your hair on his chest, closing your eyes as he ran his hand over your hair.

You weren’t looking forward to this week at all.

[vigilante-3073]

Hold Me

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

PART 1

Summary: If you had the chance to save the one you love, would you take it?

Reader has the power to Teleport

TW: Angst, violence, blood, guns, denied feelings, love-hate relationship, super-soldier serum.

Musical recommendations: Can You Hold Me? By NF (Feat. Britt Nicole).

Bucky sat on the leather couch in his therapist's office in silence as she searched through his phone. He usually enjoyed the silence, but today it made him want to crawl out of his skin. Bucky turned his head towards the window, the sky was dark and it had started to rain outside. His bright blue eyes followed the raindrops dutifully as they rolled down the glass, Bucky had always liked the rain.

"Who is Y/N?" Doctor Raynor asked, looking up from his cellphone screen.

"My roommate," Bucky stated.

"You never told me you had someone living with you," She said.

"Because it doesn't matter," Bucky said. He couldn't stand Y/N and he certainly didn't want to take up a second of his therapy session talking about her.

"The two of you talk quite a lot. Almost every day by the looks of it... How did you meet this person?" Doctor Raynor asked, pressing the power button on Bucky's phone. She held out the phone to him and he took it, setting it down on the couch beside himself.

"Steve," He said, looking down at his hands.

"Do you know why Steve introduced you to them?" Doctor Raynor questioned, picking up her pen.

Bucky sighed, shifting in his seat, "No," He said.

"Can you tell me about Y/N?" She asked.

Bucky could feel himself getting frustrated, "I'm not here to talk about her," He snapped.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow wordlessly.

"Why do you even care?" Bucky questioned, sinking back into the couch.

"Because you do," She replied.

"I don't care about her. She has made my life hell since the day I met her," Bucky said.

"How has she managed that?" Doctor Raynor asked, scribbling notes down into her book.

Bucky huffed, "She's just annoying," He shrugged.

"How so?" The Doctor pushed, not looking up from her notes. Bucky wanted to toss that notebook across the room.

"Can we talk about something else?" He asked desperately.

"Nope," She stated, looking up at him with a small smile. Bucky knew that there was no getting around her.

He sighed heavily, folding his hands in his lap, "She's always checking up on me... Texting, calling, forcing me into stupid conversations about my day and making terrible jokes," He listed.

"Does it feel overwhelming? Having someone check up on you, I mean," Doctor Raynor asked.

Yes. Yes, it does. Bucky thought bitterly.

"It feels like I'm being smothered... I know she means well, but it's just too much," Bucky stated.

"Have you told Y/N about how you've been feeling?" The Doctor asked.

Bucky sighed again, "No," He said plainly.

"Why not?" Doctor Raynor questioned.

"I don't want to hurt her feelings," Bucky muttered. And it was true, she was a good person, just overbearing sometimes.

"Huh, sounds to me like you care about her," Doctor Raynor said, closing her notebook.

"I don't," Bucky stated.

"Whatever you say," She smiled.

...

"Bucky!" Y/N cried, body colliding with his as she knocked him out of the way when the gunshot rang out.

The pair hit the suddenly sandy ground, rolling down the beach.

Bucky landed on his back with her body on top of him. He squinted up at the bright sky above them.

The leaves of palm trees rustled in the warm breeze, a few seagulls flying by overhead as the sound of ocean waves crashed against the shore.

"Where the hell are we?" Bucky asked, turning his head to see a large body of water with waves gently lapping at the shore.

They certainly weren't in Latvia anymore.

"I don't know," Y/N said, pushing herself up onto her knees with a grimace. She looked down at herself, "Shit," She muttered, Bucky looked up at her.

Y/N pressed her hand against her stomach, pulling it back to see her palm coated in blood.

Bucky sat up, looking down at her, "We need to get you to a hospital. Do you think you can portal us back?" He asked.

"Yeah, I-I think so," She stood up with Bucky's help, keeping her hand pressed against her stomach.

Y/N held onto his arm, closing her eyes as she tried to focus.

Nothing happened.

Y/N opened her eyes, "Bucky, it's not working," She said shakily, her eyes glossing over with tears.

"You can do this," Bucky assured, squeezing her arm reassuringly.

"Bucky, I'm scared," She mumbled, a single tear breaking loose and rolling down her cheek.

Bucky quickly wiped it away with his thumb, dread beginning to settle in his stomach when he noticed how pale she was getting, "I know. But you need to stay calm right now," He said.

"I don't want to die," She whimpered, gripping onto him desperately.

"You are not going to die. I won't let that happen, alright?" Bucky assured, cupping her cheek in his palm. More tears spilled down her cheeks as she nodded.

"I need you to focus, sweetheart. Get us back," Bucky instructed.

Y/N would be going into shock soon.

Bucky watched her as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. He could feel her trembling in his hold.

Nothing happened.

Y/N opened her eyes again, "I can't do it," She mumbled tiredly, knees buckling underneath her.

Bucky stepped forward, catching her and gently lowering her down to the sand below.

He knelt beside her, "I need you to keep your eyes open, doll," Bucky instructed. His heart started to race as panic set in.

Y/N was going to die right in front of him.

"Stay with me," Bucky ordered, taking her hand. Her body slumped against his chest, "I'm sorry," She mumbled.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, sweetheart," Bucky assured, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't afford to break down right now, he needed to be strong for her.

"Can you hold me, please?" Y/N asked softly. Bucky nodded, carefully maneuvering her body into his lap with his arms holding her securely against his chest.

Her tired eyes stared out at the glistening ocean, "I certainly picked a beautiful place to die," She mumbled.

"You're not gonna die," Bucky choked out.

"It's okay. At least I'm with you," Y/N said softly.

She may have been a pain in the ass.

She may have been annoying at times.

But Bucky needed her.

Somewhere buried underneath all his fraudulent hate, he had fallen in love with her.

Bucky looked down at her as her grip on his hand went loose. Her eyes drifted shut, head leaning against his chest.

"Hey, Y/N. Y/N, open your eyes. Come on," He called shakily, tilting her head up to see her face. Bucky rubbed his thumb across her cheek, jostling her body in his arms, "Open your eyes," He pleaded, tears gathering in his eyes.

He could hear her heartbeat slowing in her chest. He looked up at the ocean, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Bucky knew that he couldn't save her on his own, but he'd be damned if he left her alone to die. His body shook as he sobbed, cradling her in his arms.

Bucky looked over as something reflective caught his eye in the sand.

A syringe of blue serum.

It must have gotten swept up with them when Y/N portalled them out.

The serum could save her life or kill her, but she was going to die without treatment regardless.

Bucky reached over, grabbing the serum from the sand. The serum would give her a fighting chance and that was good enough for Bucky.

He stabbed the syringe into her thigh, watching the blue serum move from the vial and into her bloodstream.

For now, he would sit on the beach and hold her in his arms while watching the tide roll in.

[yumeaoka-chan]

For Science!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Spider-Punk x Vampire! Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: Cursing, blood drinking, blood, lovesick hobie, lovesick reader, cuddling, implied kink(just one mention of it really, it's not even fully there tbh), no physical description of reader, reader is AFAB, (In the Pursuit of Blood reverse au kinda, if you really think about it)

Summary: Your boyfriend has always been curious about your vampiric powers. But there's one question he's been refraining himself from asking.

A/N: Credits for the lovely banners go to @the-shroom-garden !!! Second piece for week 4 of Octobie @the-kr8tor , let's go!!! I'll probably have my third final piece done later this week, idk. I've been on a roll, so there might be a fourth if i can write fast enough💪

“You fuckin’ with me, lovie?”

“No, Hobes. I really can turn into a bat. As well as a swarm of them, but that's besides the point.” You can't help the smile that flits across your face as he gestures to you with open arms and grabby hands. A clear indication that he's waiting for you to do just that, turn into a bat. Hobie knows the sparkle in his eyes is giving away just how excited he is to see you turn and he won't lie about how much he's dying to hold you when you do.

Shaking your head, you let out a playful sigh and place a hand on your forehead, as if you're winded. Turning around, you fall back into your boyfriend's awaiting arms, only for a small cloud of black shimmering mist to appear with a poof when he moves to wrap his arms around you. Hobie's eyes widen in shock as the mist subsides, an excited, lopsided grin on his lips as he peers down at you in his hands. A fuzzy bat about the size of his forearm with fur the same color of your hair. He has to reign in the urge to squish your little cheeks when you peer up at him with big red eyes, so cute and utterly adorable. Not at all good for his heart, he supposes. And when your little bat tongue comes out as you yawn, he goes “Fuck it” and squishes your cheeks between his thumb and index finger.

“Look at you… Too cute, darlin’. I'm gonna have a heart attack, swear”, Hobie coos softly as his other hand comes up to pet at your large ears, dopey smile lighting up his features.

You let out an irritated squeak of protest from the smothering of your cheeks and shake your head free from his fingers. With a small chirp, you open your tiny mouth towards his thumb, tiny fangs making his smile falter as he thinks you're going to bite him for a second. Only for your tiny tongue to gently lick the pad of his thumb, tiny bat body wrapping around his wrist. That was the day Hobie thinks his ‘wanting you to bite and drink from him’ obsession started. He was curious, as one naturally is when their girlfriend is a damn vampire. Days and weeks passed after that and he never uttered a word to you about the subject, not exactly knowing how you'd take being asked to feed from him.

You'd always made sure you were fed before being around him so, he never tried to ask. Although the nagging question and want to know how it felt ate at him day and night. Was it a need? No. Was it want? Perhaps. Was it somehow tied to his…longing of you? Hobie wasn't fully prepared to unpack that yet. Besides, what if the reason you never tried to feed from him was because you cared about him deeply and wished no hurt to come to him? That feeding was a necessity for your survival and you didn't want him to feel like you kept him around for just that? He groans as he thinks about those being the possible reasons, scrubbing a hand over his face with exasperation. It was late in the night with you having gone to feed, leaving Hobie alone in the houseboat with his ever pressing thoughts.

He flopped back on his bed and glared up at the ceiling, trying to will away the questions that flitted around his head a mile a minute. He was genuinely intrigued though. Hobie truly wanted nothing more than to find out just how it felt to be bitten by a vampire, about whether it would hurt or pinch just a bit.

“It's not even like that. She loves me. Plus this is just for…research…”, he mumbles to himself as he flings an arm over his eyes. Would you get mad at him and be offended if he asked you, however? You've always indulged in his curiosity when it came to your abilities but, something like this just had to be… personal. Teeth worrying at his bottom lip and tongue fiddling with his lip piercing, Hobie lays there for a few more moments before sighing and sitting up. He wouldn't ask you. At least, not yet. Too caught up in the long list of cons rather than the short list of pros. Just as he reaches for his guitar, a sudden bang against his window rocks the boat. He holds out both arms to steady himself as the houseboat slowly stops rocking, eyes darting towards the window and ears perked for anything that might spell danger.

His senses don't go haywire, which helps ease the anxiousness beneath his skin. Standing up, Hobie opens the window to peer out of it, only for the fuzzy blur that is you to come hitting him in the face, making him yelp in shock. Your fuzzy body drapes over his head before you slowly slide down into his palms that had quickly come up to catch you. Little chirps leave you, sounding weak and tired. Hobie shakes his head before peering down at you with growing concern as he walks back over to the bed and sits down with you in his arms. With a poof of shimmering black mist, you're back in your human form, albeit bruised and bleeding from multiple cuts. Your body sags weakly against his as you look up at your boyfriend with a shaky smile.

“Evening, Hobie.”

“Oh my days, what the absolute fuck happened to you?” Is what he furiously whispers as his hands tenderly cup your cheeks. You nuzzle into the warmth of his touch as he gently wipes the blood dripping from your forehead, eyes shining with concern and heart aching at your battered form. You can smell the scent of his blood beneath his skin, how it rushes through his veins. With a sigh, you bat tired lashes up at him and softly shrug.

“Not all vampires are as lovely as me. That is to say, I got into a fight with some old shithead and won. ‘M hungry though, didn't get to feed…” You mumble as you bury your face against his chest. Hobie scoffs and shakes his head. Of course you'd find a way to make some joke out of the situation. He's rubbed off on you a bit more than he'd liked to. Pursing his lips and watching as you inhaled the scent of him deeply, that nagging question springs into his mind again. After all, you were battered, tired, and hungry. It couldn't hurt to ask now…

“Hey, um, love? Considering that you need blood to heal and everything… W-What if you were to feed on me…?”

“Oh, finally. I was wondering when you were going to ask this question.” That makes his eyebrows raise in shock, mouth dropping open and eyes blinking repeatedly. You give him a knowing smirk and press a sweet kiss to his chin then his lips.

“Trust me, it's a very common question, baby. You wouldn't be the first to ask it. I am curious what your reason behind it is, though.” Hobie lets out a nervous chuckle, a dopey grin on his face as he avoids your gaze. He shrugs and scratches the back of his head, embarrassment coloring his voice and making it crack a bit.

“U-Uh, well… You know, it's for, um, science! Yeah… Science, lovie.” Not entirely a lie, he was much too flustered to come up with any other excuse. A giggle leaves your lips and Hobie's eyes soften as he gazes at you with fondness. Always so weak whenever you laugh for him, the sound like an arrow straight to his heart. He leans down to kiss you tenderly, hands cupping your face once more and thumb caressing your cheek lovingly. When he pulls back, his heart just about aches at the adoration in your pretty eyes, his heart fluttering in his chest. His thumb tenderly grazes along your bottom lip, gently poking at your fang that sticks out.

“Go ahead then, darlin’. Take what you need, mm?” Slowly nodding your head, you lean up to press your lips against his neck, softly gripping the hair at the back of his nape to gently tilt his head to the side. Your other hand rests on his shoulder. One of his hands is splayed across your back while the other rests on the back of your head.

“I'll be gentle, promise”, you mumble quietly against his skin as your fangs gently graze his flesh. He shivers slightly at the sensation and nods his head, heart pounding in his ears as you pepper his neck in kisses. It's then that he feels your fangs sinking into his flesh, like a shard of ice in his veins. The pain is sharp and quick to come, but goes away just as quickly. He can feel the sensation of his blood being sipped out of his body, a sensation that isn't too unpleasant. Warmth pools beneath his skin and he holds you closer against his body as you drink from him. His mind clears and his body feels lighter, like all of his troubles have been swept away by your touch. Giddiness makes a goofy smile appear on his lips as he presses his neck closer to your lips. You hold onto Hobie gently, tilting his head just a bit more as you lap at the delectable nectar that is his blood. There's something different about it, not like a normal human’s life force. You think that it's probably because your boyfriend is no normal human, after all. There's something energizing about it, something that pumps you up and you feel every wound stitching itself close the longer you drink.

Hobie's little hum and hands growing slightly lax in his grip on you makes you back away, tongue lapping over the bite mark to stop the bleeding. Pressing one final kiss to his neck as thanks, you gaze up at his face with slight concern. Hobie's eyes are half-lidded and glazed with contentment, hands wrapping around you and gently pulling you towards his neck again.

“Finish drinkin’, lovie”, he slurs just a bit, voice deep and soft like he'd been drinking. “Want you to get all better.” His words make you smile and you gently lay him down on the bed. You shush his protests with a soft kiss to his lips before tapping his cheek so that he looks up at you.

“I got just what I needed. Thank you, Hobie.” You coo softly as you drape the blankets over his form. Hobie gives you a lopsided smile, his eyes swimming with such a lovestruck shine to them that you can't help but pepper his face in more kisses. He hums softly as you adorn him with your love, grin widening with every kiss.

“Anythin’ for you, sweetheart”, he mumbles as you turn off the lights and press another kiss on his forehead. Sleep is quickly trying to claim him and he's not one to fight it. “Anythin’ for you.”

[pearlzier]

vampire!matt with a sweet girly girl

u have. an amazing brain did u know that 💓

he LOVES his girly girl so damn much, loves how accepting you are of him being a vampire and how you didn't start crying bloody murder the second you found out. he also wonders whether your blood tastes as sweet as you are, but he tries to keep that thought in the back of his head as much as he can ...... maybe one day you'd let him try, just a little. that he thinks about a lot. and your blood does taste sweet to him, due to all of those sweet smoothies and milkshakes you drink.

matt thinks you're a little too sweet sometimes, he thinks your pretty face and lacy outfits, lips smothered in gloss could give people the wrong idea. you're naive at times, very much so, so he has to step in at times. first off, you'd literally let him into your home after he'd stumbled in your yard—what was stopping you from doing it again? when you'd left your back door open one time, he'd told you, "gotta be more careful, sweetheart, you let me, a whole ass vampire in one time, next thing i know a fuckin' werewolf is gonna be walkin' in through that door,"

"...werewolves are real?" you stare at him, blinking for a moment. of course that's what you focused on.

"just—just lock the door, will you?"

you're sweet to the point of literally fucking up your sleep schedule and sleeping during the day just so you can go out with matt at night. it concerns him so bad but also makes his heart race at the fact you'd do that for him. the first few times you did it, you were practically falling asleep where you stood.

"we can go back if you want—" "no." your voice are the tiniest bit delayed and slurred from how tired you are but insistent nonetheless, and he simply eyes you for a minute before a fond smile adorns his lips, and he continues walking around the park with you with your fingers interlaced with his.

he gets a little self conscious over being a vampire sometimes, and feels like he doesn't deserve to be with someone as sweet as you, so he starts pulling away and being around you less in the hopes that you'll finally realise that you deserve something better. "i'm a vampire, a monster, you shouldn't even want to look at me, let alone date me."

"i've had exes bigger monsters than you, y'know that? you're far from it, dummy." and that gets him thinking two things: you're a fucking angel, and where the fuck were those exes, because he'd have to sort them out for you if they were that bad to you. he still doesn't think he deserves you, at all, but he starts thinking it less and less with how many times you tell him that he does.

you're super warm blooded, but especially compared to him. he's always so cold, due to being a vampire, and you hate it. not for yourself, you love cuddling up with him and clinging to him with no remorse. but for him, since you feel like it could get pretty annoying being freezing all the damn time. "you're literally shivering." you are, you're shaking the faintest bit against him. it's not obvious, but he completely notices with how attuned his senses are. "m'literally fine, matt. close your eyes, you're supposed to be sleeping," your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to sleep. though you're practically clinging to him to try get warmth, which you won't find but do so anyway, in your cute little pajamas.

or he's doing your makeup for you, as you'd requested, and his cold hand is grasping your face gently to steady you. "sit still, y'keep fidgetin', baby." you whine in return, pouting as you try to keep yourself still. he tries to hold off a laugh at the way you react, "we need to get you gloves," at that, he chuckles quietly, brows raising instinctively. as much as he loves you, he doesn't think so. "you're not makin' me wear gloves, no way in hell. gotta suck it up, i guess."

[thatonelovingwalker]

Carl Grimes x GN reader

///TW: none💗///

Summary: you see Carl with Judith and wonder if he would want a child of his own.

Walking along the sidewalk lining your neighborhood, you heard the cooing of a baby. You immediately recognized it as Judith. Carl always walked Judith at this time, and you had just recently started walking with them.

You and Carl have been together for about three months now, and Judith has become really close to you.

Her noises got louder as you rounded the corner, and saw that she was patiently waiting for you in her stroller.

“Judith! Good morning,” you told her, letting her grasp at your hands.

You looked up to Carl and saw him looking at you as if he was seeing you for the first time. As if he saw Christmas lights brightening before him, rapping him in warmth and the feeling of safety.

“Good morning, Carl,” you told him, walking around to give him a peck. He returned it gratefully, taking ahold of your hand.

“Ready?” Was all Carl asked, making you nod.

The three of you started walking, listening to the silence that surrounded you both.

It was quiet for about fifteen minutes, and that was when Judith started to fuss.

“Nap time, Judy?” Carl asked her, circling around to pick her up.

Carl gently cradled Judith in his arms, rocking back and forth on his heels. He was whispering to her, trying to calm her down, and all you could do was watch.

He was so good with kids, especially Judith. Whenever he was with any of the younger members, he treated them as if they were his blood. As if they were his own children. It made you yearn for a normal world. One where it wouldn’t be a life or death decision.

But you knew that if it were to ever happen, whether it’s with you or another, he would be absolutely perfect.

“You’d make a great dad,”

“What?”

Carl turned to you, shock all over his face. He didn’t look upset, but he looked distracted.

And you that was when you realized you said it out loud. You didn’t mean it to slip. It just happened.

Even with his surprised features, he still looked even more fatherly with Judith calming in his arms. His hat and eye patch displayed experience, ones that he had learned from. The gun strapped to his leg showed he was capable. You knew he would be everything you ever needed. Everything any child needed.

“You’d make a great father…” you said a little bit more softly. You stayed where you were.

You saw his breathing pattern change. It was the one thing you could catch before he muttered, “Let me go put Judith down,” before turning away from you.

He left you with a sense of regret. Why did you say that?

You found yourself sitting on the couch, listening to Carl shush Judith to sleep a few rooms down. You had no idea if he knew you were there, but you waited, hoping you didn’t ruin things.

When Carl expressed what happened with his mother, Lori, and how he had to put her down for the sake of Judith, your heart broke.

Maybe mentioning anything to do with a baby was a bad idea.

You no longer heard Carl. His whispers or humming. Just footsteps. Heavy footsteps. You didn’t dare watch him, no matter how much you were dying to.

You felt the couch shift with his weight, and you knew he sat closer to you on purpose.

“You really think so?”

You could barely hear him, but you understood completely what he meant. You turned to face him, and was met with his pleading eyes. He looked so vulnerable in this moment, you just wanted to smother him with cuddles and hold him.

“I do.”

“Well, I think you’d make a great (mother/father), y/n. You’d be amazing,” Carl grasped your hand with one of his heart stopping smiles.

“Doubtful,” you said, trying to be playful. Carl picked up on it.

All he said in return was, “How about we try and see?”

[mustainegf]

OK SO UHH

‘04 (optional) JAMES HAS A BREAKDOWN/PANIC ATTACK IN FRONT OF READER CUZ HE DOESNT THINK HES ENOUGH FOR HER AND UHHH SHE COMFORTS HIM AND THEY FUCK IN LOTUS POSITION 😻😻😻Jaymz pov would be really cool but either way is fine :D

I’ve been thinking abt this all day while at work and omg 😭

I LOOOOVVVE PASSIONATE STUFF ITS SO BEAUTIFUL

Based this around the SKOM era

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍’𝐓 ²⁰⁰²

I sat at the edge of the bed in my hotel room, staring down through the floor to nowhere in particular. My chest was tight, squeezed by an invisible hand that tightened with each breath.

The world outside, claustrophobic. My own breathing echoed through my ears, jaded.

The documentary crew left a few hours ago. Their equipment was packed away, and their annoying chatter began to fade in my mind. They were here to capture the making of our new album, aka, the Metallica therapy session.

But what I felt was exposed, to be laid for everyone to see. The cameras never lie: they catch every bit of frustration, stumble, and every drink. Oh God, Oh fuck, the drinking.

I ran a hand through my hair, feeling the sweat on my palm. Everything was uncomfortable. My heart thumped as my thoughts scattered.

The rehab had helped, at least a little. I felt like such a fake. Like I wasn't enough for the band or the fans, especially her. For anyone.

She is my everything, my beautiful girl. But even rocks erode under constant waves. I knew that I was tugging her down, dragging a weight she didn't deserve to carry.

I heard the door of our suite open and close softly. Footsteps drew closer, but I still could not relieve myself from looking up. A tingling sensation on my skin told me she was there before I saw her. Then she knelt beside me; her eyes searched mine.

"James?" Her voice was soft, concerned. "What's going on, Honey?"

I swallowed hard, trying to find words. My throat was dry, my tongue felt thick. I shook my head. I couldn't talk. The tears started pouring, and I clenched my fists, trying to hold them back. But it was too much. The dam was broken and the words were falling out.

"I can't do this," I choked out. "I can't be what everyone wants me to be. I am a mess. I'm… I'm awful. I'm a pathetic excuse for a man."

Her eyes widened, and she reached to touch my arm, though I drew back, standing abruptly. The room spun. I gripped the back of the chair to steady myself. "I'm failing, at everything. The band, the album, rehab… you. I'm failing you."

"James, no…" She got to her feet, and again she reached out for me, but I stepped back again, shaking my head.

"I'm a fake," I said, yelling now. "Everyone believes I am this… this badass metal guy, but I am just some broken little boy. I can't take this. I can't take all of this!"

"James, please…" She took a step closer. I did not hear her. The blood pounded in my ears, my vision blurring with tears. I went down on my knees, clasping my head and trying to block out the noise in my head, the voices telling me what a piece of rubbish I was.

"I'm not enough!" I growled out, my voice cracking. "I'm not enough for anyone!"

She knelt down next to me with her arms wrapped around me. I pushed at her, but she grasped me tightly with all her might. "Shhh, James. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."

Her words were trying to get to me, but I was drowning too deep to grab the hold of it. My body was wracked with sobs, and I couldn't smother them. I was shaking, my whole body trembling. "I'm so sorry," I gasped. "I'm so, so sorry."

"James, look at me," she said, her voice level and low. “Honey, look at me.” She gently took my chin in her hand, forcing me to meet her eye. "You are not a failure. You aren't worthless. You're human. You're allowed to struggle. And you are a good man."

I shook my head as the tears streamed down my face. "I'm not enough," I whispered. "I'll never be enough."

"Yes, you are," she said firmly. "You're more than enough. For me, for the band, for the everyone. You're more than enough, James. And it's okay to need help. It's okay to be vulnerable."

I collapsed against her, my head on her shoulder, the sobs coming harder now. She rocked me back and forth gently, stroking my hair. "It's okay, James. Let it out. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

She held me close, whispering reassurances and rocking me back and forth like some child. "I love you," she said softly, "and I'm here."

The panic began to subside, the clench in my chest loosening. My breathing began to slow down, my sobs turning to whimpers. She was here, believing in me where I couldn't believe in myself.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered again, my voice hoarse.

"Don't be sorry, Honey," she said, pressing her lips on my forehead. "Just be here with me. Just breathe.”

I nodded, closing my eyes and letting her hold me. She looked down at me with a mix of compassion and tenderness in her eyes. Her voice came in low, "I want to distract you… make you feel better. You’ve been way too tense, James."

I turned my head, feeling my reluctance shower over me. "I don't think that would be such a good idea," I grumbled, scrubbing at the remaining squiggles of tears with the back of my hand.

The very last thing I wanted was to burden her, to drag her down into my darkness.

She tipped her head back onto its side, her eyes held mine. "What's there for me to do, James? What do you need?”

I fumbled for words as my mind was nothing but an incoherent jumble. "I… I don't know," I said awkwardly, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

That wasn't the whole truth, though admitting what I really wanted was impossible. I looked away, twitching at my fingers nervously.

She saw right through me, curling her lips into a knowing smile. She reached out and brushed her fingers very lightly down my cheek. "You wanna have sex, don't you?" she asked, laughing softly.

I felt my face flushing, and I stuttered, "I… I mean…" My voice faded away. I couldn't stand the look in her eyes.

The truth is that it did cross my mind, a desperate reach for something or anything that would connect me to her.

She cupped my face in her hands, turning it gently so I had no choice but to look at her. "James, it's okay," she said, her voice soothing. "It's okay to want to be comforted. There's nothing wrong with that."

I studied her face for any sense of pity or frustration, but there was only love. I let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "I… I guess I do," I said barely above a whisper. "But I don't want you to feel like you have to, honey.”

She shook her head, silencing me with a soft, gentle kiss on the lips. "I want to, James," she mumbled against my lips. "I want to be close to you. Help you feel better."

So I reached up, my hand trembling, and cupped her cheek, moving my lips to love hers.

Her fingers tangled in my hair as she pulled me closer. Her lips were exceedingly warm, they seemed to press into my bones.

Backward on the bed, her body covered mine, pinning me in, to the present.

For some time then, we lost ourselves. It wasn't about the physical act, it's about comfort, this woman who I loved more than life. Every touch, every kiss said she was right by my side.

We slid into movement, our bodies quickening to a pace both remembered and totally new. She shifted again, sitting in my lap with her legs around my sides, intertwined. The position pushed us closer, our bodies were pressed so intimately bare, our faces inches apart.

“You doing okay?” She whispered, hovering over my erection. The dark of the night bathed her beautiful face, the sapphire sky leaking in through the wonder and making her look that much more stunning.

Her breath on my lips, her heartbeat against my chest, it was the most intimate kind of position. “Yeah… I’m okay.”

I gently held her, staring into her eyes as she sank down onto me. Tho both of us groaned in unison, and she made sure to keep a good grip on my shoulders.

We began to move, our bodies finding a slow, gentle thrust. It wasn't about getting somewhere fast, it was about connection, feeling each other fully. Every movement was done with forethought, every touch meaningful.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, her fingers threading through my delicate hairs on my nape as I held her close, my hands on her back. I could feel her forehead against mine as we sat like that.

"James," she whispered lowly, a hundred different kinds of love in her voice. "You feel s-so good."

"You too," I murmured, my voice rough with emotion. "God, I love you so much.

She smiled, soft, radiant, and kissed me once more. "I love you t-too. So much."

It was the most intimate thing, the most loving experience I ever had. Every touch, every kiss, every single movement.

"Look at me," she whispered, her eyes locking on mine. "I want to see you."

I nodded, holding her gaze. "I'm here. I'm with you."

She smiled, shining her eyes with love at me. "Stay with me."

"I will," I vowed, choked with emotion. "Always."

"I love you," she whispered, her voice full of emotion. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," I replied, my voice rough with emotion. "More than anything."

It wasn't about how fast I came, it was more about the feeling of every second.

"I'm close," she whispered, her voice trembling with her pleads. "James, I'm so close."

"Me, too," I rumbled, my own voice harsh with emotion. "God, you feel so good..."

She smiled again then, a beautiful, euphoric smile, and kissed me once more. "Stay with me," she whispered. "Cum with me."

"Always," I promised. "Always."

Finally, I twitched and stilled as she moaned her release. I held her so tight, bucking slightly as I came. I let out a rough breath, trying to catch up with myself as I felt her fill with my seed.

We lay that way, our bodies knotted, our hearts wrestling each other from inside our chests.

"Thank you," I whispered, burying my face in her warm neck, leaving kisses.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

hey lovie, I hope u are well, If ur taking requests atm is it possible u could do miguel when ur on ur period? I feel like his protective instincts would kick in and he would try to help u as best he could. he would conquer ur mood swings like a champ, and use his big ass hands as a heating pad lol.

<33

hii!! I wasn’t taking requests when this was sent in, but I got mine today (and im in agony so this helped hehe) so I wanted to do this. im still on a writing break but to compromise I made this into some headcanons, hope that’s okay. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

✧.┊MASTERLIST

period hc’s with miguel || wc 553

— first things first, he'd be such a great boyfriend, especially when you're on your period, like the absolute best !!

— he wouldn't smother you, wouldn't make you feel claustrophobic. he would never make you feel embarrassed for it either

— I feel like he gets better at helping over time. at the beginning of your relationship, he would be a little awkward around it (not because he's a man, and it's blood or whatever, but because he doesn't know how to help you, how to make you feel better) so over the course of dating he's learnt tonnes

— he is spider-man after all, so he's still a total nerd- he loves learning about them (not in any weird way, just learning in order to understand better etc)

— but every few months, you would completely throw him off. he thought he had your mood swings, cravings, patterns etc down to a T, so every once in a while when that would change, he'd be back at square one

— he would find himself keeping log of your behaviours (again, nothing weird, he just wants to help you) he would recognise patterns and anticipate them like he was trying to get ahead of you, as if he's trying to prepare

— at first, you found his interest pretty odd. no one ever cared that much about your periods, so you found it strange for him to care so much. but you got used to it, and you found it endearing for him to care about something most guys would be disgusted by

— I definitely think miguel is a gentleman, so he loves to treat his girl well, do things for her, care for her, treat and respect her. and he's no different with you

— he's very prepared and always has a stock of your favourite feminine products just in case. he buys multiple boxes of your favourite teas, bags of chocolates, and containers of fruits. he knows what you like, and he goes all out

— he would definitely handle your mood swings like a pro, and dare I say, he would take your anger on the chin. if you snapped at him, he wouldn't say anything, he'd nod, wait for you to calm and then proceed. he wouldn't get angry at you as he knew it was hormonal. he wouldn't scrutinise you for it or bring it up in a future argument. he was aware you might not mean what you say so he would never use it against you

— if you felt guilty for shouting at him, he'd be super comforting and reassuring, "I know you didn't mean it, baby. I know," he would stroke over the back of your head, holding you to his chest. "let's lay down for a bit, hm? get some rest," he would be careful with his tone. he wouldn't want to patronise you

— once you laid down, he'd slip beside you, his huge frame keeping you safe and warm. he'd place his palm over your tummy, using his hand as a makeshift heat pad to help with your cramps. he'd touch you to sleep (lovingly ofc!!) he would stroke over your arm with his spare hand, caressing your cheeks, gently raking through your hair. he'd be a total softie, utterly enamoured with you, even though you cussed him out five minutes prior

— — — — — — — — — — ✿ — — — — — — — — — —

[deadguywalkin]

seb x fem farmer/you hcs

all lot of these can be gender neutral! i probably won’t be making more of these.. i am a bi seb truther, but my blog is gonna continue to be very sebxsamxalex centric since i just wrote these up for sab hehe

fixes your hair/bangs when he sees something wrong without saying anything. just randomly pushes them to the side for you or touches it up a little, cuz he knows how annoying it can be esp when you can’t see them yourself

loves having his chest slept on. a hand up your shirt with his slightly cold hand moving up and down on your back (he has cold hands FIGHT ME.IF YOU DISAGREE!!!!!

also likes having his lap sat on. he likes having slight pressure/weight on him a lot

isn’t very affectionate just right away/generally but randomly ruffles your hair or holds one of your cheeks while pecking the other

random naps in the middle of the day together. it’s a whole routine and this will happen every single day

watching sci-fi/horror/fantasy movies all cuddled up on the couch and just constantly commenting on and making fun of everything that happens. giggling at the way an actor said something weirdly and just turning them into little inside jokes

keeps a hairtie on his wrist at all times

sitting with you while he eats somethign and you’re not eating anything, he just feeds you little bites without even offering it first

‘darling’ ‘my dear’ ‘my love’ , ‘my bat’ if we’re feeling extra emo

face, neck, waist grabber. needs to be as close as he can to you so he just pulls your waist closer while you’re kissing, fingers borderline digging into your skin

does small gestures, no questions asked, doesn’tsay anything. he doesn’t expect anything in return but he just enjoys being there for you

acts tough and introverted but he’s actually very needy and soft. just because he isn’t vocally affectionate doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be smothered with kisses and loved very gently.

notices all the little things. if you do your hair or makeup a little differently, if you’re wearing a new perfume, anything. he knows you by heart and will notice any little change

random hugs and pushing his head over your shoulder, placing little pecks to your neck

bold and flirty, making suggestive jokes but CRUMBLES the second you flirt back

a lot of hand holding, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. pressing soft kisses to your knuckles before looking at you with half lidded eyes and a little smile that puts his dimples on display

random motorcycle rides whenever you get tired of being in town. riding off to god knows where, but finding a random empty field out of town to sit in and talk in the middle of the night

creeps up behind you and spooks you every once in a while. it is so annoying but a little endearing and it also kind of puts you on edge when he hasn’t done it in a while

not the best at communicating, but he’ll let you walk him through it because he knows you know how to do it better than he does (?) idk how to word it

naturally has very flirty narrow eyes. anything he says sounds flirty with the way he looks at you

HATES showing people his baby photos. he’ll let you keep one in your phonecase though, you’re the only exception for anything to him

very eepy. leans on you a lot,

if you guys are double emo, heart shaped blood vials of each other’s blood that you just carry everywhere or wear as a necklace

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Fall

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Summery: She’s reserved, emotionally cut off, and spiraling down a dark path; one she can’t get out of on her own. Aaron Hotchner may be her only help, but at what cost? When he shows up to her hotel room, contact in hand, she realizes it may be more than what she bargained for.

Warning: 18+ Only MDNI SMUT. Language, BDSM, Dom Aaron, emotionally detached reader, typical CM violence, childhood trauma, abusive father figure, age gap (reader 25 Aaron 40) doesn’t line up with a specific time line, use of Y/n because story is set in 3rd person for the first half then switches POV, last name for reader is Smith,

Specific Chapter Warnings: David being a tease(?), blood, dog attack, robbery, Typical CM violence. Hospitals, (let me know if there is something I missed)

A/N: so these next two chapters are long because I had to take a SUPER long chapter and split it in two. So be thankful I could have just kept it all in one part 😂.

Present Day

The first few things you notice, as your conscious slowly pieces itself together, is that your face is unbearably cold. The AC unit under the window is humming loudly as it pushes the air around, chilling the room like you’ve left the window open. The next thing you gather is that every other part of your body is warm, almost burning. But with the soft pillow under your head, the weight at your back, and how your body has shaped into the mattress, you could care less. This is the most comfortable you have been in years, every ounce of tension smothered away by the heaviness above you.

Then that heaviness moves.

Your eyes snap open with the flood of last nights events, overly aware of who exactly lays behind you. Aaron’s head is pressed against the back of your neck, little puffs of warm air skimming your shoulder, his heavy arm wrapped around your waist and a thick thigh pressed in between your own. His breath is even and deep, seemingly still asleep, and you silently thank whoever is out there for the moment to collect yourself and figure out what you should do next.

What you should do is get up.

What you should do is get the hell out of this room with your tail between your legs.

What you should do is call everything off, the embarrassment you’ve endured enough to last you two life times.

You close your eyes, sucking in a deep breath, because as much as you should move you can’t force your body to do so. The smell of Aaron’s cologne is filling your nose with each breath, then just underneath is a hint of musk that is undeniably all him. It’s intoxicating, it makes you want to bury your face into the pillow and never leave.

“You’re doing a terrible job of pretending to be asleep.” Your entire body jumps at the sound of his deep voice, making Aaron chuckle behind you, a chaff kiss pressing to your shoulder. “I’m sorry.” He mutters warmly.

“It’s-it’s fine… I was just-.” You push the covers down, starting to get up when Aaron’s arm tightens around your middle, holding you in place as his lips find the smooth skin of your throat, right where your shoulder meets.

“Aaron…”

He nips at your skin and you suck in a breath, his hot tongue soothing over the tender spot before he repeats the process further up your neck. Aaron sucks at the soft skin just above your necklace, just where your pulse is and you whimper at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed. “We-We need to get up… it’s probably time to-.” Your words are swallowed by a thick moan, your head falling back as he finally finds that sensitive spot just bellow your ear. Aaron takes advantage of this new discovery, sucking and nibbling gently as he rolls you onto your back. His large frame settles between your thighs, trapping you in.

Your hands find his arms, squeezing the tense muscles as his weight presses you down into the mattress, your mouth opens in a silent moan, your eyes fluttering against the pleasure clouding over your mind. “Aaron… we can’t do this.” Your words are half hearted, contradicting your actions as your palms travel up to his shoulders, pulling him in as his plush lips pepper the underside of your jaw.

“Why can’t we?” He mumbles, resting his weight on his forearm, his other hand finding your hip. His fingers dig into your skin, his palm pressing into your bone angling your hips to his liking. Aaron lifts his head at your lack of response to find your lips parted in a quiet pant, your eyes closed as you drink in the feeling of him. “Hmm?”

“We could… so much trouble if we keep doing this…”

Your breath catches in your throat as his hand slips under your shirt, smoothing up your side and spreading wide along your ribs. Aarons thumb just barely brushes along the bottom of your breast, all of your senses zeroed in on the small area as the digit rubs back and forth.

“Then stop me.” His voice is laced with a growl, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that can only be described as feral. Your front teeth clicking together, noses bumping, moans filling each other’s mouths as your hands find home in his hair, tugging at the short locks desperately. Clauses smooth over the hard peak of your nipple, sharp hips grinding down into your own, and his erection presses firmly into your mound.

Aaron groans loudly, the noise reverberating through his ribs and into your own. Your thighs squeeze his hips with each slow canter, dragging himself along your soaked core. Every sensation is building into a frenzy under your skin to the point you feel like you will burst into a million little pieces.

The shrill ring of a phone sends everything to an abrupt halt. Aaron is off of you and picking up his phone before you can even take your next breath. “Hotchner.” You blink drizzly up at him, the sudden change in everything leaving you with whip lash. Aaron stays seated between your thighs, one hand kneading and squeezing the soft fat, stroking your leg as he speaks. His voice nor his face give anything away of what just transpired, leaving you astounded as you’re left trying to catch your breath. The way he flips script so easily almost a little unsettling.

You can faintly make out David’s voice on the other end on the line, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding blowing through your nose. You draw your leg up with the intention of leaving the bed but Aaron squeezes your thigh and he shoots you a glare, silently telling you to stay where you are.

Reluctantly you drop your leg back against his pajama clad thigh, tuning out most of his conversation with the older man as you fix your shirt, pulling it back down over your stomach where it had ridden up. “Right. We’ll be there in an hour.” He ends the call, tossing his cell onto the bed leaving his hands free to explore the outside of your thighs with a gentle touch.

“We need to get up.” Your voice is soft, low and thick, your eyes darting down to where his hands have come to a stop.

“Who did this?” His eyes, unusually dark, catch you by surprise when you look up at him in confusion. You’re about to ask him what he means when you feel his thumb rubbing back and forth around the jagged raised scars on your thigh.

Aaron watches how you mentally shut down, your features once soft and dopey now are stony, your gaze turning sharp as your eyes narrow. “No one.” You force yourself to sit up and move away, your back pressing into the cold, wooden headboard.

“You don’t fit the profile of someone who would have hurt themselves.”

You roll your eyes, your nose scrunching with disgruntled anger. “How would you know? Besides, Derek says we aren’t supposed to profile each other. So don’t.”

Aaron moves closer, the bed dipping in making you slip towards him as his hands land on your knees, balancing himself with a soft squeeze. “Those are Derek’s rules, not mine. You don’t seem like someone who would have hurt themselves because you continuously push through your problems, you tuck them away so that they don’t affect what you have set your mind to.” His hand slips down your thigh again, going for the scars that plague you endlessly. “So, I will ask you again. Who did this?”

Your pulse picks up, your breath sticking in your throat like a candy you forgot to chew, as his fingers brush your numb skin once again. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You push his hands away, and Aaron sits back on his heels as you scoot to the edge of the bed with a wince. The memories of last night aren’t the only reminder of what happened, a deep seated soreness is there too.

Aaron sighs, a bit of annoyance latching onto his words as he speaks. “How is any of what we are doing supposed to help if you won’t open up to me? It’s not a sin to show vulnerability, or emotion.” His fingers brush your wrist but you jerk away, spinning on your heel to level him with a rough glare.

“Yes it is. Showing those things, when you are a person like me who came from nothing, gets you no where in life. My emotions are not the reason I pulled my life around in high school, they are not the reason I received valedictorian in college. No amount of tears earned me my work ethic. That was done by me without any of those things. I was fine keeping my mouth shut, my emotions locked away, and going about my life as I should. It was you who decided otherwise!”

Suddenly your voice isn’t your own, it’s hauntingly familiar, piercing the back of your mind like talons from a bird who has caught its prey. You don’t see the room around you anymore, just the never ending darkness that suffocates relentlessly.

The brackets around Aaron’s mouth soften, his eyes turning pitiful and you think that’s the worst part of it all. “Baby…”

“I want to go home, Aaron.” It takes great effort to not let your voice crack as pressure bears down on your chest, making it hard to breath. You’re sure if you keep standing here it will all be for nothing.

“Okay.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

You’re the first to board the jet, the cabin is only a few degrees warmer that the air outside, making you pull the sleeves of your purple turtle neck down to cover your hands. Despite hardly saying anything else to each other Aaron still made it a point to pick out the clothes he wanted you to wear, then helping you carry your bags to the car. The ride had been silent and uncomfortable, the boundaries that you thought were in place are now blurred, and a new type of nervousness has burrowed into your bones.

You pick the couch at the far end of the plane, pulling out one of the blankets JJ keeps in storage for weather like this. You ease into your seat, a long sigh escaping as you drop your head back against the wall, mentally and physically exhausted.

“Well, good morning.” David’s chipper voice fills the cabin and you force yourself to lift your head and meet him with a smile. Aaron is on his heels with a new folder in hand. His work never finished.

“Morning, how was seeing your friend?”

“It was good.” David nods his head, stopping in front of you, smiling crookedly. “We had just enough time to catch up on life until the next time I am in town.”

“That’s great.” You say genuinely, your head tilting slightly. Your smile falters as his brown eyes narrow, your back stiffening as David reaches out, gripping your chin between warm fingers. He tilts your head up and hums softly, his grin returning at full force as his eyes gleam with knowing.

“Well, now isn’t that a pretty sight. Make sure not to get that snagged on anything, gattina.”

Unbridled embarrassment fills your stomach, spreading to the top of your head and down to the bottom of your feet. Your jaw slackens in David’s grip and he chuckles, squeezing your chin before stepping back. Aaron looks up his eyes darting between the two of you. “It took her a minute to agree to wear it. I think she likes it though.”

Your head snaps in his direction, your cheeks reddening with rage but David speaks first. “Oh I’m sure it did. The feisty ones always put up a little fight.”

The fact that they both are speaking as if you aren’t sitting feet from them has you seeing red. You jam the necklace under the collar of your shirt, pulling the blanket up to your chest with a huff. Your narrow eyes bore into Aaron’s who holds your challenging stare, an eyebrow cocking in question. You curse yourself repeatedly as you drop his stare, refusing to acknowledge him or David again for the rest of the trip.

When David sends Aaron a smirk he finds the raven haired man staring at you with a mixture of amusement and possessiveness.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two and a half uncomfortable hours later you are finally dredging your way back into the bullpen. Your extra bags are packed into your small silver car, refusing the help of the two men, and as you surround yourself with the familiar sounds of rustling papers, ringing phones, and jumbled chatter; you finally feel some tension ease away.

Dropping into your chair at your desk you stretch out your arms, noticing the stack of folders on the corner by your computer. No matter how much you do, there is always more paper work.

“Hey, sweet cheeks.” Derek Morgan drops into his own seat across from you, dressed in a too tight white t-shirt and an impish grin on his face. He rests his elbows on the desk, his muscles flexing as he watches you drag your eyes from him to the folder in front of you. There was no denying he was a very handsome man.

“Good morning.” You singsong back, flipping through the manilla folder, eyebrows creasing as you scan the text.

“How was Jenny after we left?”

You take a second to respond, carefully choosing your words. “She was really good. She was open and talkative, I don’t believe there will be any psychological impact that will affect her life. I’m sure as she grows older and understands more and more of what happened she will seek someone to talk with but for now… she is doing very well.” You prop your head on your fist, your eyes rolling up to meet his. Morgan nods thoughtfully, rolling a pen between his fingers as he leans back in his chair, rocking slightly.

“That’s good. I couldn’t stop thinking about her after we had left.” Right there. That was what made Morgan such a good profiler to you. Not only was he the power of the team, no door standing a chance around him, but he also held a big heart which overflowed with compassion.

You nod, dropping your attention back to your folder when another voice joins in. “That’s new.” Garcia suddenly appears behind you, her bright red fingers plucking at the arm of your sweater. Everything in you stills for a moment, before you force yourself to react, licking your lips and turning to the bubbling blond with a smile.

“Oh uh yeah, it is.”

“And so are those pants! They look good on you.” Garcia’s smile has always been the most infectious thing, despite what comes across her many monitors daily, she always a is a ray of sunshine. Her quick wit and humor making it impossible to dislike her in the slightest. The cheerleader you all need.

You nod again, feeling your cheeks heat under both of their intense gazes. “I kinda did a little shopping after the case was finally wrapped up.”

Morgan makes a noise and Garcia shoots him a leveling glare behind her pink glasses. The color being the main theme of today’s outfit, from her pink 50’s styled dress to her pink heels and makeup.

“What? I’m surprised is all. But good for you, Y/n. You needed to treat yourself.” He holds up his hands in surrender, waving them slightly.

"Y-Yeah you aren't wrong." You amend, glancing up to the landing behind him as movement catches your eyes. Arron is watching the three of you with a slight smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The day felt as though it had dragged on and on, more and more profiles of children and young adults to sort through. Deeming who is top priority for therapy based on the severity of their cases. Finally you are able to close out your computer, leaning back in your chair with a groan. The office is shrouded in darkness, a few emergency lights humming lightly and the amber glow of the offices above you the only lighting.

You can’t help finding Aaron’s office, the door is open and so are his blinds, but there’s no way of seeing him from where you sit. You bite the inside of your cheek, wondering if you should just leave or if you should go to him. You had never discussed how things were supposed to be in the office asides from being discreet. Nothing can be more discreet than just leaving as usual.

Your cellphone suddenly vibrates on your desk, and you aren’t left to wonder any longer. A text from Aaron pops up on the small screen and you find yourself hesitating to answer, your eyes darting around the office to ensure your privacy.

Aaron Hotchner: “How was your day?”

You roll your lips together before typing back a quick reply, something fluttering in your chest.

Y/n Smith: “Same as always when we are in the office. Just paperwork.”

It’s not a forward answer and you find yourself chewing at your cheek again.

Aaron Hotchner: “Did you eat lunch?”

Fuck. Y/n Smith: “I didn’t … but I was planning on having a big dinner when I get home from picking up Bruce.”

You swallow thickly, your eyes flickering to his windows where you can practically see the pinched set to his dark eyebrows, his eyes narrowing as he reads your message.

Aaron Hotchner: “Make sure that you do. Remember some of our rules extend to the work space and that includes eating three means a day if you are able to. Now, are you going straight home?”

Your face flames with heat, again glancing around to make sure no one can see your mild embarrassment from being reprimanded.

Y/n Smith: “No, I’m going to go pick up Bruce first.”

Aaron Hotchner: “Call me when you get home.”

You take a breath, one you didn’t know you were holding and begin to gather your things.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Nearly two hours later you are finally pulling into the driveway of your small one story home, your car shaking with the force of Bruce’s excitement. You laugh as he whines, his tail wreaking havoc on the seat back behind him. You grab your keys and phone, leaving everything else for later. “You ready? Who’s ready to be home?” The high pitched toddler talk you reserve souly for your over grown puppy makes Bruce bark, the car shaking more as he shifts on his paws. “Let’s go then!”

You step out and he instantly follows, circling you before going ahead and running back, like he’s asking you to go faster. You both make your way to the front door, bantering one-sidedly as you unlock the door as you debate dinner.

“Chicken noodle?” He whines as you push the door open, letting him go in first. “No? Well then how about a pasta bake?” You toss your things onto the door side table, closing and bolting the door behind you. Bruce yips, his tongue lulling out the corner of his wide mouth, almost grinning as you lead him into the living room. “Ooo what about fish sti-.”

You stop abruptly, halting in the middle of your living room, as your focus lands on a man lumbering at the entrance to your kitchen. He’s shrouded in the darkness of the small area, his clothes different shades of grey and his face is obscured from a ski mask. In one hand he holds a large trash bag, in the other what appears to be your silverware.

Bruce’s growl snaps you from the impromptu staring contest you’re having with the man, the hairs on his body standing on end as his posture shifts. His stance widens, shoulders dropping , ready to protect. Though fear sizzles through your blood like acid you react before the intruder does, your hand snapping for the gun at your hip only to fumble over air. The realization that you have left it in your car knocking the air from your lungs. The man steps forward and Bruce’s growl intensifies, placing himself in between the two of you.

“FBI. You need to vacate before you do something you will regret.” You force the words out, your voice loud and stern, even as your tongue stick to the roof of your dry mouth. You hover your hand over your bare hip, hopping it will psych the man out as his eyes flicker between you and the dog.

He takes a step forward and you fall back one, Bruce retreating with you, the knowledge that you know he will attack on command giving you courage you don’t have. The giant holds up his full hands, his eyes darting behind you as he speaks. “We aren’t here to hurt you lady.”

“We?”

You don’t have the luxury to ponder what he means when something crashes over the back of your head. The sound of glass shattering fills the room, your knees hitting the hard wood floor soon follow. Black swims over your vision as you fall forward, barely catching yourself on your hands, the sting of glass cutting into your palms making your cry out.

A hair raising snarl rips through the room, Bruce launching himself at the man who just ambushed you from behind. Your ears start to ring and you gasp, trying to clear your vision as you sway on your hands a knees, you bloody palms slipping on the floor. A gut wrenching noise fills the air, teeth shredding through fabric and meat and a scream that makes you flinch.

Rough hands grab at your arms, hauling you up and the world around you swims and tilts, your head falling limply against your chest. There’s a thud and a whine that makes bile rise into your throat as you’re dragged towards your linen closet, mumbling negatives as you try to fight back.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man holding you shakes you by your shoulders, rattling you and your consciousness slips farther away. “Get the fucking door Mac.”

Mac. Mac. Mac.

Your sluggish brain chants the word as you’re hauled over to the dark closet, your body dragging across the floor. “Don’t… please…” With a loud sneer you’re stuffed in, unsure if the darkness surrounding you is from the door slamming shut or the last of your consciousness slipping away.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Aaron stares down at his phone where it sits on his desk, silently willing the screen to light up as he taps an uneven tempo with his pen against his thigh. The final folder he needs to go through is laying untouched in the small metal basket, his attention fixated on the out of date cell Garcia is constantly hounding him over.

It’s nearing three hours since you left the office, and an anxious feeling is bubbling in his chest, squeezing his lungs and heart. You should have called by now, the text he sent an hour ago never answered. Were you ignoring him? Had something happened on your way home? A million different outcomes are ricocheting off of each other inside his skull.

“Hotch?” David’s voice makes him jump, spinning around in his chair to face David leaning in his doorway. “Everything alright?”

Aaron rubs his thumb across his fingers, a comforting tic he developed many years ago when he still lived with his father. Sighing Aaron drops his gave back to his phone. “I think something is wrong.”

David’s eyebrows inch up and he takes a few steps into the blandly decorated office. The only personal touches are the awards lining the dark walls and a few pictures of Jack. “What do you mean?”

Aaron takes a deep breath, “Y/n… She hasn’t called and I’ve already messaged her once…” Aaron bites his lip, shaking his head. “My gut tells me there is something wrong and I can’t get rid of the feeling.”

David only takes a moment to contemplate, nodding his head as he grabs the door. “Then we need to go.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

"HELP!" Your fists pound into the door, desperation and fear cracking your already strained voice.

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? The darkness surrounding you gives no answers away, and no matter how hard you push and pound on the door, there is no give.

It's all of those lonely dark years all over again, suffocating, hindering, debilitating. You scream for Bruce but there is no answer on the other side, no noises to let you know he is okay.

You’re cramped in the small space, the shelves above you preventing you from standing, the space becoming more and more claustrophobic. Tears choke your labored breathing, curling into yourself, deflating into sobs.

"Please... Please help me..."

*~*~*~*~*~*

It didn't take long for the two men to find your small white home, the faded numbers on your teal mail box still visible in the dying light of the setting sun. Aaron is overly aware of how the large black SUV stands out among the lower class suburb, but there doesn't seem to be a soul around to notice as he and David step out into the cold air. The house is dark on the inside, the front porch illuminated by the single strand of soft glowing Christmas lights that wrap the banister.

Aaron had called you once before leaving the building then again when they pulled onto your street, that creeping feeling of dreed now worming its way through the deepest parts of his guts. David glances to Aaron before leading the way to your door. It's painted the same sun-kissed color as your mailbox, but when David knocks it swings inward under his heavy fist.

Both men automatically draw their weapons, David glancing to Aaron who gives a curt nod before he pushes the door open all the way. In front of them is a long hallway, three doors on the wall to their left, an archway at the very end and another to the right. David gestures to the doors and Aaron veres to the right, noticing the small table with your cellphone on top. He turns the corner sharply, gun level and narrowed eyes scanning the dim room, the only light filtering in through sheer drapes.

The living room had been turned over, furniture pushed around or completely toppled over, once neatly placed books now litter the floor. There’s a pile of glass at his feet that looks like it had once been a vase, everything in his immediate vicinity is speckled with blood. A broken lamp lays on its side, the bulb flickering hauntingly, casting shadows about the room. Aaron can hear David on the other side of the wall, his steps just as measured and cautious in case someone is still lurking.

He makes it across the room, the trail of blood growing in volume, right at the entrance to your kitchen. It’s staining the walls and checkered linoleum floors, and Aaron can smell the copper tone in the air. His heart beats unsteadily, fear gripping him as he scans the trashed room spotting the blood soaked door. Making his way over he peaks out the window, finding a small, dark back yard.

“Clear!” He tells to David, who parrots the word back. Aaron’s heart is thumping wildly, his thoughts crescendoing, but as he is about to move away from the door a soft whine reaches his ears. He pears out the glass once more, this time a dog comes into view. He’s large, black and brown and Aaron can see blood covering the dog’s muzzle as he paces back and forth on the small patio, staring at Aaron expectantly.

Swallowing thickly Aaron looks around, grabbing a dish towel off of the counter and using it to turn the sticky door nob. The dog bursts through the door before Aaron can fully open it, bolting into the living room, David comes around the corner in time to see Aaron following the furry beast, his phone in hand ready to call the police.

The dog leads Aaron to a door tucked in the corner of the room, where he is pawing and whining at the white wood. There’s a china cabinet pushed tight against the door, bloody handprints smeared across the side and Aaron’s stomach drops with the realization. “Dave!”

The two men rush to the piece of furniture, heaving it away, Aaron’s hands slipping against the side of it. Once there is enough room Aaron throws open the door, his gaze meeting stacks of blankets and towels until his eyes drop to the ground.

You’re curled into the small space at the bottom, your arms thrown over your head, your shoulders shaking with each heaving sob. Instantly Aaron is taken back to just a few days ago when they found Jenny tucked into the crawl space. Bruce makes a gruff noise behind Aaron and the man drops to his knees in the doorway, relief and anger pooling in his soul as he takes in the state of you.

He reaches out, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder making your entire body jerk with a startled scream. Your head snaps up, eyes wild and unfocused as you press yourself further into the wall. Aaron holds up his hands, his voice taking on a soothing whisper. “It’s me, baby. It’s just me and David.” Tears relentlessly spill down your ruby cheeks, your chest rising and falling so fast and uneven that Aaron is afraid you are are going to hyperventilate.

Before he can say anything else though, you are scrambling towards him, throwing yourself against his chest with so much force you knock him backwards. His arms wrap around you and you let out the loudest sob he had ever heard, your fingers digging into his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline and you were stuck in an endless dark sea. Bruce tries to nudge his head between your bodies, his tail wagging slowly, as David takes a few steps back dialing 911.

Aaron gently strokes your hair, his eyes close as relief washes over him. “You’re safe, everything will be okay. We’ve got you.”

A strangled noise leaves your throat as you press your face in closer, your fingers shaking around the fistfuls of his shirt. “I-I… I got jumped.”

“Shh, it’s okay, you don’t have to talk right now.” Aaron whispers, Bruce moving around to the other side, laying his head on Aaron’s thigh. Aaron drops a hand to the dog’s head, scratching him softly. “Good boy, you’re a good dog.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The neighbors began to a merge when the police lights filled the night sky, whispering amongst themselves and speculating what could have happened to their most quiet neighbor. Inside, the house is consumed with near chaotic energy. Bright flashes of lights from cameras, men yelling back and forth to each other across the house. People getting samples of the blood left, picking up pieces of your home, your life, to place into evidence baggies.

And in the center of it all sits you. You’re curled up on the couch, Aaron’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as Bruce lays on your feet, a middle aged EMT checking your blood pressure in front of you. You hadn’t stopped shaking since you left the closet, the adrenaline pumping through your system making it impossible to sit still.

The woman in front of you, her black hair slicked back into a small pony tail, her flawless dark face scrunched in concern; shines a small light into each of your eyes. “Your pupils are dilating like normal, but I would feel more comfortable if we loaded you up and took you to the hospital for further evaluation.”

You stare at her blankly for a moment, trying to focus on her words as the rest of the officers clatter around behind you. Aaron squeezes your hand, making you look up into his pinched face. “Oh… yeah, yes.” You mange, looking back to the woman. She gives you a gentle smile, a smile she has probably perfected with her job.

“Alright hun, let’s get you up.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

It’s no secret that the entirety of the team hates hospitals. The fact that they are walking into the unknown of a sterilized building, with its overly bright lights and white walls, sets their nerves on edge. Everyone had gotten the same phone call from David, explaining that you had been attacked and were being taken to the hospital for further examination. Every single member of the team dropped what they were doing to get there, to get to you.

Morgan and Garcia are the first to arrive, having been just a few streets over at a local dive bar. The clicking of Garcia’s heels is loud in the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Morgan’s large hand rests on the small of her back as they follow the directions of the receptionist, the instant relief they felt learning that you were in a common room like a flood of cold water on a hot day.

As they round the next corner Morgan’s eyes land on an open door just down the short hallway. He drags Garcia to a stop, his mouth falling open in stunned silence. “What?” Garcia’s snaps, the incredulous look she gives him wiped away when he points.

Just ahead they can see you perched on the edge of a hospital bed, a white sheet pulled across your lap, your forehead resting against Aaron Hotchner’s sternum. He’s rubbing slow circles against your back with one large palm, and they are able to make out the slight movement of his lips as he speaks with you in a hushed voice. Your arms are thrown around his waist, bobbing your head to whatever is being said before you lean back to look up at the older man. Aaron leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and Garcia nearly collapses on the spot, her hand flying to her mouth to keep any noise from escaping.

“What in the…” David steps out of the room before Morgan can finish, pulling the heavy wooden door closed behind him as he spots his coworkers. A small smile tugs at his lips as he ambled over to them, meeting them halfway in the hall.

“What was that?” Garcia hisses, rushing up to the older man as fast as her heels will allow.

“That… was none of your business.” David says nonchalantly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans.

Morgan scoffs, keeping his voice low in case either of you were to open the door. “That was most definitely something. How long has this been a thing? And with Hotch of all people?”

David finds it difficult to hold in his chuckle at the incredulous look the male gives him, even harder still when Garcia slaps Morgan on the arm. “Be nice.”

“Look. It isn’t my place to say anything, but,” He pauses to gage their faces. “It’s quite new. Now, coffee anyone?”

David strolls away without letting them get another word in, whistling a tune from an old opera. Garcia turns to Morgan with a bright smile, her excitement barely contained making her shoulders and hands shake. Morgan rolls his eyes and gestures to the door.

After Garcia is able to calm herself down Morgan pushes the door open with a soft knock. Aaron is now seated across the room, and you’re slouched on the bed with an ice pack pressed to the back of your head. You look up as they enter, your normally clear eyes red and puffy, your hair disheveled and your nice new clothes wrinkled. You looked shocked to see them, glancing back and forth between the pair.

Garcia rushes you, dropping her bag on the bed and swallowing you in a tight hug. The discomfort you would have felt just this morning at the sudden embrace isn’t there as you hug her back just as tight. “Oh my gosh… are you okay?” You nod as she pulls back, her eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah… just a slight concussion. They are bringing me my discharge papers soon.” You smile weakly up at Garcia, your eyes jumping to Morgan.

“Heya, sweet cheeks.” He says softly, Garcia moving to the side as Morgan takes a seat on the edge of your bed by your legs. He reaches up and touches your chin softly as he scans your face, looking for whatever it is he needs to be reassured you’re okay. “What happened?”

You fiddle with your ice pack for a moment, a knife of embarrassment slashing through you as your shoulders slump forward. “I got home and there was a man robbing my home. I… I left my gun in the car and since I was so focused on the man in front of me I didn’t see the other guy come up from behind. He knocked me over the head and…”

Aaron watches as you shift in your spot, your throat working as you swallow, trying to force the memories and emotions down. “I passed out. I know Bruce got one of them though, my house is covered in blood.”

“Bruce?” Asks Garcia.

“My dog.”

“That means he will be headed to one of the hospitals, a dog bite can be nasty and they might not be skilled enough to take care of it on their own depending on where he got bite.” Morgan nods his head thoughtfully, turning to look at Aaron.

“I already have the local police canvassing the nearest hospital and urgent care phacillities. We will have a blood match if he goes anywhere.” Aaron’s face is lined with worry and anger, a mutual feeling growing in Morgan’s chest.

“Good. Do you remember anything at all about the two men?” Morgan turns back to you, watching as you pick at the itchy blanket in your lap. It’s unnerving seeing your normal stoic persona cracked in half, and yet he’s relieved to know that there is some emotion underneath.

“I only saw one of them, and even then he was wearing a ski mask. His hands were white, his voice plain, he was very tall though, took up most of my foray into the kitchen… one of their names was Mac.”

“We can work with that.” Garcia reassures you, her hand rubbing your back. You nod, the door to your room opening at the same time to reveal a worried looking Reid, JJ, and Prentiss.

As well as they can, they try not to swarm you; each of the women giving you tight hugs and words of relief. When Reid finally makes his way to you, you pull him in for a hug, the shock on his face enough to make most everyone chuckle.

By the time the nurse comes to discharge you, she’s met with a room full of FBI agents. She smiles a little nervously at everyone as she makes her way to you.

“Here you go. Now, get a lot of rest, that means both mentally and physically. Come back immediately if there is any sudden change in your condition, vomiting, dizziness, strong fatigue.” Everyone is nodding along to the nurses instructions, as if they will be the ones making sure you follow doctors orders.

“Thank you.” You take the papers flipping through them as she leaves. Aaron watches you, your body still taught, despite the defeated set of your shoulders. He wants nothing more than to get you alone and finally talk about everything that had happened. To see if you will open up to him.

“Do you need a ride?” Garcia asks, standing up from her chair.

“Oh um no thank you. Hotch and Rossi drove me here, they said they’d take me back to my neighbors house who offered to let me and Bruce spend the night.” The lie that rolls off of your tongue is so believable even Aaron is questioning if that’s what you think will really happen once you’re out of here.

Garcia only nods, throwing an arm around your shoulders and hugging you once again.

*~*~*~*~*~*

ONE LAST CHAPER YOU GUYS 😭😭😭 it’s coming very soon. Like probably tomorrow or the day after I’m crying. 😭😭😭

Tag List: @kneelforloki @hmett20 @axionn @ncis0mrs0gibbs @morgthemagpie @zaddyhotch @little-miss-cherry-cola @fandomawesomness @heart-breaker8 @aad1993 @obsessed-oops @supercriminalbean @lex13cm @rosiehale23 @emptybagofchips77 @icarusgloom @imr0nni3 @cashtons-wife @mojo366 @mrsgweasley @hotchners-wifey @lelevs @normaltuesdaynight @tgskitten @char-jlhewitt @shinebrightlikeafanbase @emobabeyy @bunbunbl0gs @turtleshavesoulmates @mrs-ssa-hotch @balariie @eveyez-exe @nachofriess @aangell333 @wisdomcrys

[moondirti]

charcoal

pairing: John 'Soap' MacTavish x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 2.6k summary: you and johnny draw portraits of one another warnings: cock warming, unprotected p-in-v, creampies, handjobs, tooth rotting fluff, nude drawings, light masochism, mentions of death notes: inspired by soap's journal in mw3. our sweet boy can draw :)

“Sit still.”

A whisper, spoken like a fervent kiss to the space between you. Humid air, smothered under his peppercorn cologne and the tangy warmth of lingering sex. Johnny’s pelvis remains glued to the back of your thighs, conjoined at that sweltering centre, gently swelling back to rock-hard shape. It works to plug you full of him, a barrier to the cum he’d spilt a mere thirty minutes prior.  

Mere. To you, long hours have gone by while stuck in this state, oscillating from painful overstimulation to an insatiable urge that only exists with him – more, more – and back again. But he exercises a surprising restraint. No. Unexpected. A fortitude obviously cultivated in the SAS, carbon under pressure, polished and primed. One that is diamond-sharp, deadly even, but usually crumbles to dust around you. 

He keeps your leg hooked over one broad shoulder. The other quivers, cushioned by the duvet, serving as a surface for the item he’d fetched in a rush. 

Fuck. Hold it righ’ there. Freshly spent, glowing with an endorphin-logged high.

Huh– W-What’re you doing? 

Y'look so bloody beautiful like this, hen. Have ta memorialise it. 

Ever the flatterer. You’ve no doubt you’re a mess – mussed hair, smudged mascara. The only thing he’d left in his stripping you was the necklace you’d worn for his welcome home; a golden chain, charmed with a replica of his dog tag and an antique locket you’d salvaged from your grandmother’s place.

You thought he’d been reaching for a polaroid; a quick snapshot of the moment, print to be stapled to the inside of his combat coat. But he’d ducked under your bed – not the nightstand where you kept the camera – and ruffled through dust bunnies and expired condoms for the stash of things he deems too important to take with him to the job. Material objects, little keepsakes, left to rot behind, with you. 

He’d come back up with a self-satisfied grin, a journal – moleskine bound and half-full of rough scribbles – clasped between waving fingers. 

It’s not the first time he draws you. Just the first time he does of such an intimate scene. 

Clenching involuntarily, you flush at the thought. Johnny’s free hand tenses from its place on your knee, soothing circles turned bruising touch. Giggling, you squeeze him again, only to be met with a particularly vicious thrust of his hips. 

“Nng-! Christ,” 

“What'd I tell ya?” 

“I had been.” The protest peaks at the back of your throat, forming something more akin to a whine. His chuckle is indicative of the fact; sunlit bough and soft moss gaze catching yours. His eyes pool like honey in the lowlight, gold drawn out by the haze of your surroundings. Warm. “You’re taking too long.” 

“Wad ye rather I get the shadin’ on yer tits wrong?” He teases, gaelic-curled accent accompanied by sharp scratches of charcoal on paper. The black dust coats calloused fingertips, concentrated on the middle, the one he uses for smudging. “Ye'll end up lookin like ma great aunt.” 

“That’s gross.” 

“Watch it. Rory was a great woman.” 

But his chest widens in that special way, skin rippling over thickset sinew, and you know his current contentment runs bone deep. He gloats it, wearing the radiance like he does the sweat; the tender marks along his neck, imprints of your teeth cut in blood. His battle scars pale in contrast, silver and thin and nothing when set beside the raised scratches, red, carved mid-fuck. 

You’ve tried to be gentle with him. Really, you have. 

You just found he doesn’t prefer it.

A Noah’s-Ark cataclysm of rain, unending cataracts of water sluicing from the sky. They wash over the windshield, the windows – you can barely see beyond the hood of his car. 

It was your suggestion to wait the storm out. You’d gone on a picnic for your first date, perched up high on some mountain that now seems too formidable to scale down.

Spice with rosy overtones. His scent is intoxicating, distilled on that spot – the edge of a broad tendon that stretches up his neck. Johnny’s clad in a polo shirt, the collar slightly popped to cover the patch of skin, but you catch sight of it every once in a while. Enough to fuel your internal screams, urging you to act against what is proper. 

Hold out ‘till the next time you see him. Leave him wanting more.

He’s talking. Something about football and fake turf scrapes. 

God. That voice. Full-bodied, confident with all the charisma to match. You latch on to every syllable, basking in the way they furl from him – rolled r’s, two element vowels morphing to one. What’s the word for gorgeous in Scottish jargon? He’d taught you it over a bowl of strawberries. 

Broad. Brock. Brow. Br… something.

But his thumb had swiped out to the edge of your lip to catch a bead of stray juice, and you’d lost all wit. In one ear, out the other. Boiled down to a saccharine, lust-filled puree. 

You’d wanted to take the digit into your mouth. 

The high altitude ensures the car is frigid, windows chilled with a freezing pellet downpour. The skirt you wore does nothing to hide the goosebumps that prickle down your thighs. 

It’s not the weather, though. It’s him. He inspires a cyclone in you, a vortex of violently rotating winds that upturn every function. Hot. Cold. A puddle of melted something, stirring deep within the recesses of your gut. Your attempts to smother it down will forever be in vain. 

Him. Him.

He drives you mad. You’re fucking stupid. 

But pellucid blue light streams in from outside, the sun sinking behind gunmetal clouds, and Johnny fills his jeans nicely, you think. Hulking thighs force the denim to its limits, stretched and spread and–

Oh.

Maybe your mind had skipped over it purposely. For knowledge of what it would do to you. In knowing that your panties are already slick, unable to hold the extra saturation. You’ll leak onto his seat. 

Fuck.

A prominent, massive bulge. Strained, outwardly painful. 

Enticing. 

You flood, anyway. Overbearing heat and oblivion striking your core. A breath catches, spinning to form a small bubble of recklessness between constricting lungs. 

You speak before you begin to process it all. 

“We’ll be here for a while.” 

Stupid, silly girl. 

He halts, tangent lost to the half-lidded look you give him. Your nails graze the arm nearest to you, propped on the console, brushing through hair to elicit a deep shudder – mirror to your salacity. It tells him what he can already guess. 

In the split second it takes for your impulse to waver, he recovers, back to that ludic man you’d met just last week. 

“And there are only so many things to talk about.” Johnny nods.

Your heart slams on hollow ribs. He may hear it if he tries hard enough; an echoed melody of cosmic yearning. 

“Gotta save some for next time.” 

“Aye.” His head ducks closer to yours, locking you to those bonfire eyes. “Next time?”

“Hmm, if you like me enough.” The suggestion skips across your nervous titter. Spearmint washes over you when he speaks, cold breath a product of the pack of gum he keeps tucked in his car door. He’d told you he reserves the stash for special occasions, with only the ‘prettiest of hens.’ You’d folded the wrapper into a heart and placed it against the stick shift. 

“I like ya, bonnie. Only question is–”  A bent forefinger taps your chin, thumb caressing the curve of it. “Do ye like me?” 

You let your stare flutter down to his lips; perfect, pink, pulled in a devious smirk. It wipes any semblance of logic from you. Propriety, the manners your mother taught you at a holiday dinner table – cross your legs, elbows off the table – dissipate to ash. You’re raw; skinned alive and vulnerable to whatever he wants. 

Crackling nerves. You don’t answer, don’t say a word. 

Instead, you lean in to kiss the scar on his lip. 

And it all goes to hell from there. 

Hurried gropes, desperation fogging. You bend over the centre – precariously balanced on your knees – to hug his head closer to yours. His hands find purchase on your waist, exposed now, your sweater rucked upwards to hang just below your bra. You can see his back in the reflection of the window, his muscles rolling under a too-tight shirt, expanding to accommodate the weight you throw onto him. 

It’s hormone fuelled, messy. Your teeth clack and your tongues wrestle and you can only ponder on releasing him, on untucking his hard length from hindering pants. 

“H-Here–” You stutter into his mouth, left hand smoothing down his chest to dance teasingly at the waistband. His hips buck the slightest bit. “Let me…” 

“Wanna make ye feel good too, lass.” 

“Please.” 

And it must be the way you say it, the keen in your tone, the pout of your lips. You’re close to tears, eyes glossy like the wet road ahead. It must be; mutual magnetism, some shared fondness that makes him concede to your plea  (I like ye, bonnie), before he helps you pull them down to let his cock spring free. Head flush and base thick enough to split your lips. 

You swim impossibly deeper into the pool of crush-drunk abandon. 

Braw. That was it. Braw, for mind-numbing attractiveness. Or so to say– 

Maybe you’re exaggerating. It doesn’t feel like a grand enough word to encapsulate this. To capture him. 

Nothing could be enough. Your first date and yet you sit here, obsessed already, willing to spend a lifetime showing him all you can’t say. How those eyes draw from you a lightness, an ease. Hazel has quickly become your favourite colour. How mohawks are an abomination to conscientious style, but how he makes them work, much to your displeasure. You imagine plugging clippers in a shared bathroom, helping him buzz off the sides prior to longer missions. Sending him off with a kiss that means more than just interest.

“Fuck.”

“Feart, now?” 

His accent thickens in the throes of pleasure. You add the word to your growing list and spit on your hand to help slick him up. 

He stops you before you can wrap it around his leaking cock. “Wait, wait.” 

Head still buried into the crook of his neck, a trail of purpling bruises adorning the stubbled skin of his jaw – you can only spot him in your peripheral, a hazy blur of long eyelashes and a prominent nose. 

His hands unclip your bra when he speaks again: 

“Do it dry. I like when it hurts a little.”

A year later now. He’d wrapped an assignment early to see you on your anniversary. 

“Done?” 

You’re sticky with cooling sweat and spit, fluids hardening on supple flesh in the filtered air of your bedroom. Both naked, posed in the same position; your right glute burns with the ache of a prolonged stretch, still thrown over his shoulder as he hurriedly finishes the final details of his sketch. 

“Almost. Canae fuckin’ get the lightin’ right.” 

“Lemme see,” You make a grab for the journal. He bats your hand away. 

“No.” Johnny huffs, shifting to look at you from a slightly different angle. “I think it’s the glow.” 

“The glow?” 

“Aye. Took ower long ta get those gorgeous tits down, you’ve lost that sex sheen.”

“You’re mad.” 

The hand that was at your knee starts to knead your thigh, grabbing whatever it can hold. An intentional touch, he targets every tender area, sparking a match to an already smouldering flame. The pressure at your core tightens.

“I’d say it’s a quick fix,”

Your hips buck to meet the heavy weight of his palm as it flattens against your pelvis, seeking true fusion to the rough skin. You’re feverish, practically singing him; you spread your legs and do what you can to spear yourself further onto his cock, one that has not yet left the tight clutch of your cunt. 

This is what the poets eulogise, this ‘swete breeth’ reverence. Zephyrus – he’s zephyr adjacent – the god of westerly wind. But he places you on a shrine like he’s not the being made of sun; touches you with a prayer imbued into his callouses – barnacled reminders of his life as Soap. Your Johnny, as he is with you, finds you speechless and continues giving – pouring water onto wet clay, bending you as he pinpoints an electric centre, that bundle of nerves that has you seeing star-speckled pantheons. 

He continues to work your clit even as you kick his back, heel thrashing onto freckled skin. The overstimulation is not creeping, it does not wait until you’ve come undone – no. You’ve been on this tightrope for far too long now, and your legs tremble with the sheer exhaustion of it all. It’s never clear with him, whether the end is in sight. There are often moments of recovery where you pull away, only for him to flip you over and stuff you full again. 

The lewd squelch of your cunt, your wailing moans; you hardly register them as he begins pistoning into you, both hands and dick devoted to completing the picture. All that exists is sacred, divine insensibility. Pleasure in its purest form, locked in this haven where you’re safe to imagine holding onto him forever. 

“J-Johnny… Johnny, God– I’m gonna–”

He gains speed, fucking your sopping heat with a brutal pace, unrelenting as he circles your abused clit. You don’t have it in you to even move, boneless and wholly open to his ministrations. 

“Tha's exactly what we want now, bonnie. Go on, cum for me.” 

The muscles in your core harden, too brittle to stand against the wicked tide brimming within you. It drives you delirious, flooding your instincts. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your back arches – you absolutely ruin the continuity that comes with being his live model. But you don’t care. You don’t care. He’s so good at hitting you in all the right places – head nudging your cervix, his breadth stretching you out with a fiery sting. He rubs you raw, chafing, and you’re so close. 

You think about jerking him off on your first date, coaxing from him groans that taste like scotch and spearmint-covered strawberries. The sorest handjob known to mankind – he’d cum hard, spurting thick globs of warm fluid onto his lap, webbing your fingers together with his essence. His apologies had fallen on deaf ears when you’d licked yourself clean. 

You think about meeting him at that bar, nursing a fruity drink with a wild name. Your friend had abandoned you for some blonde chick, but Johnny took your lonesome as an opportunity to swoop in and compliment your dress. He’d later told you that he’d only been looking for a quick fix to stall on the grief of a close friend's death. Turns out, ye're not so much a stall, more a remedy, love. Sad tae say I'm glad yer friend was horny that night. 

You think of him, now. Of the past twenty-something pages of his journal filled with nothing but idle doodles of you and gum-wrapper hearts, no longer dedicated to anguished attempts at remembering lost comrades. He’s grown to be a better artist, lines bold and drawn in sole strokes, able to capture just about anything in ballpoint pen alone. 

Well I’ve got the perfect muse now, haven’ I? 

You break, shattering into a million fragments. You know he’ll pick you up.

Finally resting, spooned together under clean sheets. A strong arm thrown over you, holding open a page for your scrutiny. 

“It’s nice, baby! You might’ve made me too pretty, though.” 

A growl. “Shut it. That’s all you.”

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[mcbeetlebeeb]

I'm currently getting into a fandom that isn't homestuck, but I can't turn down a request :3

these will still be headcannons and- uhrm- yea

Gamzee Makara

He is, talking about some mystical shit dude

I think hed appreciate someone who just listens too him blabber

don't ask me why but he'd like to naw on you

not full fledged biting a chunk out of you

I think he's too aware of how sharp his teeth are to go biting down that hard, but yknow

nipping at you gently, but not before he was smothering you in sloppy clown kisses

this is real specific but I think hed have the type of eyes that you can't seem to keep eye contact with

he's just so much taller and just has this lopsided shiteating grin, that shows most of his sharp ass teeth

I'd like to think his eyes are always that half lidded gaze, especially when it's at you

but no intent behind the looks he gives, fuck- probably no thoughts either

lights on no one home

don't get me wrong, he's not dumb,

in the simplest sense hes a big ol airhead

yknow a dingbat, a bit of a scatterbrain

but he's not like- vegetable for a brain dumb as hell

and thats another thing, it's definitely really convincing to probably think that he's yknow, not all there

but it throws you off gaurd x2 when he'd get all close and murmur and mumble certain things too you

he looked like he had a maximum of 3 thoughts floating around in his brain

but here he is, mumbling in a low almost gravely tone, right by your ear

I love to think he's one of those tall people to rest his arm playfully on your head if your shorter, which you most likely are-

can't recall if I mentioned the last time sense I have a rubber ducky keeping track of my memory

but I think hed be cold all the time

not like, bothersomely fridged

but enough to make you shiver and squirm if he were to press his hand to your skin, noticeable enough for you to verbally go "Damn-"

also!! I think hed be a huge sucker for you just holding his face with your hands, letting him relax against you, eyes shut

still grinning a bit and letting that low rumbling purr come from him

and this also means playing with his hair,

pet him damn it he demands it

no, not really more like laying and being in your space, following you round until you pay attention properly too him

sense most trolls can't- yknow- go out in the middle of the day because of their intense asf sun, trolls are nocturnal

so like if you ever took a photo with him with flash his eyes would do that reflective thing that cats have

or for another example, yknow how in the dark the first thing you spot about your black cat is its eyes?

yeah that

like I said in the other headcannon thingy, he's just always lurking and looming, he likes knowing what your doing even if he's not involved

and this comes with him trailing around you like a dog that sees you have food and knows you'll give it too them at some point

wether it be from afar or close, don't assume he's not close by, him being a purple blood im sure he's well aware of how violent trolls can be,

but with you around! oh he can't let you wonder off too far- Alternia's atmosphere is dangerous and the fauna is even more dangerous-

so don't expect to go very far without him trailing behind you

but he'd understand if you explained too him you wanted time too yourself or with somebody else one on one

I dont think hed be a jealous person, maybe a lil possessive! but he's not overbearing with it

he just wants you safe and content, and he wants you too feel that way around him

have a song I think fits his uh? vibe towards? significant other? because 🎉

Dave Strider

mm have I said he's a genuinely a big goof?

but I think that'd be something someone gets right off the bat

maybe

if you can pick up on someone trailing off on tangents of meaningless words that can go on and on without someone actually ever responding

than it's pretty visable

I think itd be pretty adorable though (I know I'm gay, whatever)

like if he were to start talking about something, anything, and you gave a simple short response, he's gonna take that and run with it

especially if he likes you

I think hed definitely be one too stare

but how could you tell? he's always wearing those shades

probably a good reason why he wears them other than ironic purposes

so no one sees what or where or in this case who he's lookin at

constantly staring though, wether it's you having a conversation with you or, you doing something random he's just watching

no actual thoughts id like to say

just observing

watching you be you, do your own natural thing, picking up on the way you talk or gesture at stuff

I cannot urge this enough but I still firmly believe physical touch would be a very special thing too him

it's not impossible or looked down upon too be able to hold his hand or lean against him

but he'd be mentally noting each touch, each expression you make, listening intently too your tone, hoping your doing the same

but with these actions he'd be straight faced as always, but he can feel his hands tremble ever so slightly, he recognizes his heart beat picking up

unfamiliar with these feelings with how they're being presented yknow?

most times he ever feels this way he's in danger

but he knows he couldn't be safer right now, like he wants to believe that, it's not hard for him to believe it

but his body is just hardwired to tense up, clench his jaw and steady the shakey breathing

but being patient and respectful would melt those feelings away really easy I'd like too think

just sitting there and slowly showing affection, brushing thumbs against his knuckles, tracing over fingers

you focus on his hand, flipping it over and thumbing at his vaguely sweaty palm, hand still shaking faintly in your gentle grasp

he'd just stare at you, in disbelief and adoration, and realization that he doesnt need to be poker faced round you

that he doesnt need to put up a front to protect himself, the squishy parts of him he learned to shove away to get along with life

a big sigh of relief to say the least,

but once he realizes he doesn't need to be someone else for you, he can just be him, no expectations or demands, he can rely on someone else for once

you ain't ever gettin rid of him after that, he's not clingy but he's no longer keeping you at arms length, not now, not ever again

AND HE GETS MUSIC THING because he is my favorite right next too the crab man <3

author note: I feel this sucked a big booty buttload but I was already half way done with it when I dubbed it that, so have this anyway!!!

[wren-dy-flowergarden]

TWST (Mafia!AU + Bodyguard!AU)

If you realize the characters have no relatability to each other (other than the twins), you are correct. Because I just used a "spin the wheel" to pick characters to write lollllll.

Since I am trying to get back into writing, requests are OPEN. No limit. Pls fill it with what you like, no promises I will write everything though :D

I also wanted to write something more dark...pls read tags just in case!

TW: !yandere content, possessive behavior, mentions of slight blood, dark underlying themes, reader is a jewelry heiress, not be'tad

Mafia!AU Floyd Leech

Mafia!Floyd Is a little too good at his job. Frankly, his boss gets quite frustrated with the amount of bodies brought home. It says dead or alive doesn’t it? Why should it matter what happens to these small frys. 

So when he sees your pretty face on the next hit, he licks his lips in delight. What a treat. Though, the boss did say to keep this one fresh. Little blood is not bad, too much, and it causes some problems. 

So when Floyd sees you on a park bench across the street. You’re…normal compared to the others. They are greasy, bastards flaunting around their beer bellies with women cradled in their arms compared to the pen in your hand tapping against white paper. 

Floyd wants to see where this will go. His boss said to handle you with ‘care’. The moment you see him, you freeze almost like a fish out of water, or maybe like those small shrimps he sees in the fish tank run for cover as a predator approaches. Nothing like those pompous asses who wanted all fight, no talk.

You are so much fun! As Floyd smiles, holding out an eraser. 

“You dropped this little shrimpy.”

Mafia!AU Idia Shroud

Mafia!Idia never, ever, ever works in front of the house! No! Never! He rather stayed in the operating room filled with the comfort of blue light from his multiple monitors. Never missing an angle, never missing a moment, eyes glued onto the screen, because that is what he is good at.

Not when he has to escort you into their headquarters. Also, why the hell are you here? You are just the rich, tiny, heiress of a multi billion xx company; couldn’t you be placed with someone more- energetic (not chronically online person who never sees the sun). 

How the hell is he supposed to start a conversation with you? Boss said to be an excellent host–why is he the one hosting the hostage!? You walk with more poise than him, your heels clicking on the floor as he shuffles. 

You are pretty though… Small lips, big doe eyes with furrowed eyebrows taking in your surroundings. Even your bare shoulders, exposed thin collar bone with dazzling gems draped across your neck, are shivering whether because of the cold?

Be a good host…be a decent host, Idia repeats in his head. The next thing he knows he is throwing his long jacket at your head where you make a noise similar to an ‘ump’. 

“W-w-wear that till we m-meet the boss! Hostages can’t get s-s–sick.”

Bodyguard!AU Jade Leech

Bodyguard!Jade where his smile leaves goosebumps on your skin. It's the way his eyes glimmer, his teeth a bit too sharp to be normal, the way his body lurks over you like a second shadow waiting to swallow you whole. 

But…he is good at his job– ridiculously good for a man your father found off the street on a whim. The way he is diligent in his motions, gently offering his hand as you exit the limo his gaze piercing through every paparazzi, a gloved hand guides you by the small of your back through the entrance.

Your bodyguard Jade who lowers himself to the ground before you to place designer heels on your feet. It would be a lovely gesture if it weren’t for the small red marks underneath the sole…

Jade is good at his job. He keeps you protected, prudent of your lifestyle and satisfied; but, there is this feeling where you feel almost…smothered? No–submerged by his attentiveness as if you are barely keeping your head above water before a predator pulls you down.

He is right in front of your face as you wake up from your daze. His off set eyes shine in amusement as he offers his gloved hand which you take in habit. It feels damp.

“It’s almost time for your debut. Shall we?”

Bodyguard!AU Silver

Bodyguard!Silver makes you realize you are more of a bodyguard than him. At least you can stay awake. When you find him huddled against a corner of your workplace for the nth time in the last week, you break down and buy a blanket. His porcelain face makes no change as you carefully drape the plush wool over his back. Long eyelashes and smooth snow hair cradles his features. 

You're about to brush a stray hair from his cheek but before even a finger graces him, your back hits the concrete floor. Wrists tightly pinned over your head. Your heart is beating in your chest, maybe from the surprise, maybe from the way silver eyes pierce into yours as he asses you with sleep in his eyes. It’s over in an instance as your bodyguard's face filled with shock and embarrassment as he releases you, apologies spilling out of his mouth. 

You rub your wrists. Usually that will be an immediate fire for you. Hurting clients, sleeping on the job; but, Silver is unusually fast. Faster than any of the previous bodyguards your father had hired for you. And his eyes…iridescent opal, it is as beautiful as the jewels you collect. 

Your hand to cradle his face, there would be some bruises forming across your wrists but nothing a pair oIn a soft voice y lace gloves could fix. You tell him it's alright, accidents happen, that one miniscule mistake isn’t enough for you to eget rid of him. He breaths out, anxiety still shakesungs as he gulps, nodding his head pure opals staring right at you,

“I’m sorry, it will never happen again my lady” 

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: gn!reader; suggestive content, some mild violent imagery

Doflamingo’s heart beats under your tear-stained cheek, its rhythm beginning to slow. It’s a familiar sound to you now, one that’s almost like a shockwave when he’s near, subtle undulations of pressure that you feel deep in your marrow.

“Do you love me?” you ask while his fingers trace patterns on your spine, gently soothing the tender spots where he’d marked you.

He scoffs, low laughter vibrating in his ribcage so you can feel his scorn. Of course he loves you—what a foolish question from such a naïve little thing. You’ve done so well to earn his affections, serve him without hesitation and without question, willingly and sometimes gleefully giving in to his every whim and desire—even the most dark and depraved ones, ones that he never even deigned to inflict on his most disposable of companions. He admires that you give yourself to him freely, even if you aren’t free.

He isn’t sure what it was that took hold of him one evening as he watched you standing on the balcony of his room, your nude form painted in tangerine hues, a ghost of a smile on your lips as you glanced over your shoulder at him. You looked so graceful in the amber light of the setting sun, like some delicate and fragile thing, one that he loved to break apart if only to reassemble you after, to reattach your clipped wings and make you whole again. It made his chest ache and his heart thrum in a manner he was no longer accustomed to, and it was then that he knew—he knew you’d be his undoing if he let you.

You’re a weakness, a liability, yet he keeps you close, lets you see him for who he is, lets you peer behind crimson glass and glimpse the danger that lies beyond—but you do not run. Even when the door to your gilded cage is left wide open, you do not flee, you do not beat your wings against the metal and cry out to know what it is to feel yourself soar. No, you only cling to him more, knowing the cruelty of what awaits you without him. And he in turn smothers you—coddles you, wraps you up in warm and soft embraces after cold and cruel acts, never lets you out of his sight if he can manage. You’re never far from him, always tethered to his beating heart.

“I love you very much, little bird,” Doflamingo finally obliges as he kisses your forehead and holds your body against his sweat-dappled skin, so tightly you start to struggle, complaining that you can’t breathe, that he’ll crack your ribs and break you. He loosens his hold, and you gasp—he loves that sound, when air rushes into your lungs and he knows he holds your life so tenuously in his grasp.

And he does love you. He loves you so deeply in the only way he knows how, so much he wishes he could crush your bones in his hand and turn you to dust and breathe you in, hold you inside until you are a part of him, flowing through him like blood. Then, and only then, would it be enough.

[swampstew]

Can I request Buggy with Fluff N3 for the event? Thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️

Hello anon❤️ Thank you for your submission and patience! I hope you get a chance to read this :) You requested fluff, subtle intimacy, and I give you: [ Simple Touches ] Bandaging/stitching up an injury

Oh Captain, My Captain Buggy

Warnings: None. Fluff and cute stuffs. Ended up sorta sweet n' romantic in a way I wasn't anticipating but Buggy deserves it tbh, cutie but wet n' pathetic King of the Pirates❤️ Word count: 1.1K

“OOOOOWWWWW!”

You push through the pained howls of your Captain as you stitch up his latest injuries. For a man who had eaten the chop-chop fruit, he sure got brutally chopped up by other people more than he should reasonably be.

To be fair, his latest network of contacts involved some intense and no-nonsense individuals. Two in particular who seem to have a rather tight hold on his gorgeous blue head as he did their bidding and processed their contracts.

“DAMNIT Y/N that HURTS!” Buggy hollers at you, tears spilling down his face in pure agony. It makes your heart break. Still you push on.

“It will hurt more if it festers and worsens. Then we’d have to seriously chop pieces off you,” you chide him gently, done with pushing the needle through the tail end of the long gash on his chest. “This is going to sting a bit but I’ll count down from 3. 3—” you tightened the sutures securely before he could hold his breath.

“YYYYEEEEOOOOOWWWW!!!!” his head flew from his neck, as did his hands and feet from his body. “GRR!! YOU ENJOYED THAT TOO MUCH!” he spit at you.

You give him an unimpressed look, “You know that that’s not true. Now get back here. You have some wounds on your face and right hand that need to be disinfected and bandaged. If you can make it through without any complaints, I’ll give you a treat. Sound good?”

His head reattaches to his head but his hand floats down to grip his chin, “A treat? What kind of treat?”

“A nice one. We got a deal?”

With a nod, Buggy reassembles himself and sits still as you inspect each cut and bruise. Washing away the dirt and dried blood, applying a salve on the wounds, and wrapping each one in a bandage or long, woven cotton wrap to soak up any leaking from the cuts. A hushed song brews in your throat and without realizing it, you start to emit the tune from your lips as you patch him up.

Buggy watches you closely as you lightly hum to yourself while you work. Normally, he would literally talk his ass off about anything and everything – but watching you treat him so tenderly has his mouth dry and his mind quiet. Trying to understand the feelings in his chest that you cause him to have with your firm but kind personality. Not understanding why you treat him with such dignity and warmth despite his antics; you’re one of the few people who sees through his bullshit but you also accept it, encourage it even. In his brain playing back all his interactions with you over the last year that you’ve been on his crew to better understand what your deal is.

His eyes bug out of his head for a moment, a memory unearthing itself. With Alvida.

“I think the new doc likes you, Bugs,” she tilted her cowboy covered head at Buggy. When he gave her a confused look, she scoffed and used her head to gesture at you sitting at the bar with his most trusted men. “You’re telling me that you’ve NEVER noticed how much time they manage to spend with you, or how they always talk you up? That they know almost everything about you that not even your own crew knows about?” Buggy scoffed, “Most of my crew are idiots, why would I tell those morons anything?” Alvida gave him a bewildered look, “Then why do you share anything with the doc?” “I don’t share EVERYTHING!” “Oh no? So you haven’t spilled to them how Emperor Shanks is the only man you can respect as the next King of the Pirates?” His hands flew to her face and smothered her speech, “QUIET YOU DAMN WOMAN!”

Buggy felt like an idiot.

That was maybe three months ago.

“All done. You should heal up in no time but if you feel worse, you know where to find me.”

Buggy brought his hand to the back of his neck, “Yeah. Sure.” He wasn’t sure how to pivot from being a crybaby patient to a flashy guy with rizz when he suddenly felt…overly aware of how he acts around you. To be perceived by you and now knowing that you were perceiving him.

“Wh-where’s my treat?”

“Oh that’s right I do owe you a nice one. Wait right here.”

His mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to plan, trying to scheme a charming personality in 2-seconds flat as he watches you go to your desk and pull out a dark bottle. Buggy didn’t notice how attractive your face is as he did just now. He always thought you were the most attractive in the crew in general, but now he was seeing your face. And he found that…he actually quite liked it.

Your step falters are you become aware of his intense stare. You feel…insecure suddenly. Is there something gross on your face or scrubs? Does he not like liquor suddenly? Oh no, is your hair messy?? With a trembling hand you tuck some loose hair behind your ear and lightly touch your scrub as you present the bottle.

“An aged rum that I nicked from our last raid. I hear it’s a grossly expensive brand.”

Buggy took the bottle and rolls it in his hands quietly, not saying anything at all. You watch him nervously, anxiety eating at your gut, a hot flush spreading behind your ears and the back of your neck. You know for a fact that Buggy likes expensive things, no matter what it is. Even if he hates what it actually is, like that time he tried bull fighting fish caviar. He was laid up in your office for a week after that one. He still keeps a preserved jar around, just so he can say he has it on hand.

“I hear it goes well with steak, or something,” you mumble, confidence draining away slowly.

He perks up to that, “Steak? Oh yeah, yes that does sound like a good pairing.” He stands up from the cot and shifts on his feet.

Buggy the Star Clown is shooting his shot.

“If I make Cabaji cook up a few steaks, would you…be interested in joining me for dinner? A flashily impromptu date?”

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head, that being the last thing you expect to hear from him. You had been certain that you would have to ask him out yourself with all the hints and nudges you gave him in the past seemed to go, well, right over his head.

“Oh! Y-yes that sounds nice!”

Smiling, Buggy turns to exit. Passing through the threshold he turns back to add, “I’ll pick you up at your cabin later. Escort you to the dining hall and all that jazz.” He ducks out of the room.

You’re glad he isn’t there anymore because your knees weaken and you grab the cot in support. Thrilled, you look at your schedule and decide to close up early. The injured would have to stay injured on their time, you had an important date tonight.