#Lui Fang

[mikush-marionette]

terminan igual de mal JSJASJJD

[fangbangerghoul]

Please go check out their music in their honor! Their albums literally send you into another world. The Soft Moon's albums: all photos will have links to listen to the album

[thecreativemillennial]

[lyonface]

My current mod setup for RE4R (which is currently on hold because BG3 but I will go back to the game because I can't live with myself if I don't beat it on Professional) has Luis and Leon in Romantic outfits as well as Ashley and I'm just thinking about Vampires being real and Leon being heavily trained and sent by the president to get his daughter, muzzled and broken to be subservient, only to meet Luis, a "free" vampire who is tying up loose ends before leaving, and the tension of not only being non-vampire Ashley in that scenario, but also between Leon and Luis about their shared and heavily different circumstances around their curse.

Anyway this is a cabin trio scenario.

[frogchiro]

Been thinking of a resident evil version of your cod hybrid au on the farm 😳

Being the house cat of the little farm cottage— you’re a shy little thing, maybe adopted or bought instead of a stray, so you’re a little soft and weak. Maybe a Scottish fold type? But you’re not a barn cat, you just come and go through the open window of the cottage.

Leon and Krauser being the guard/herding dogs of the farm, always trying to keep you out of trouble and out of danger when you’re out. They’re allowed in the house too— so they have a unique privilege to you.

Luis as the stray cat or fox trying to court you from your bed on the bay windowsill. He keeps getting chased off by Krauser and Leon but he can’t help but keep coming back to visit his pretty kitty in the window!! He wants you under the house porch, having his kittens!!! It takes him a while to coax you down from your windowsill, gently nudging the window open for yourself, but when you do he’s nuzzling and scenting and kissing you like it’s no one’s business. He’s not gonna rut against you like a wild dog, he wants to earn it— you with your face in the grass and ass in the air presenting for him 💖

Heisenberg being a wolf in the nearby woods, always chasing you and scaring you half to death, telling you he’s gonna eat you. He’s much faster than you— but he lets you run, he likes seeing you scared. Really he just wants to mount you and fill you with his puppies. And maybe it’s an open secret— but he marks his territory at the farm so that cougar!Alcina won’t try to get closer from her den in the nearby mountains. She’ll actually tear you apart with her claws and eat you. Krauser and Leon don’t know that, so to them he’s public enemy #1.

Krauser is a big, scarred up German Shepard or mastiff retired from being a military dog, sent to a nice farm to relax while still having a sense of purpose. Between him and Leon, he’s in charge, so he gets first rights to pinning you under him and making you take his knot.

Leon is a little more playful and affectionate— but still snarls and barks, pushing himself between you and whatever he sees as a threat.

You being so soft and domestic, as well as your owners love and attachment to you, makes you Leon and Krauser’s top priority in keeping the farm safe and keeping predators out. You’re their little mission objective.

Being a house kitty— you have a bell collar, so you can’t go around silently. Everyone who hears that pretty jingle knows that a precious little kitty is around! And all the other hybrids are trained onto that sound like you wouldn’t believe.

Yes to everything. Nonnie I've been chewing on concrete and bouncing off of walls ever since you send me that ask I swear to God I'm so NORMAL about this-

You're a sweet and spoiled thing, adopted by the nice older lady and basically got allowed to become the princess of the household, all completed by the cute pink bows in your hair and the delicate pretty collars you're wearing.

You can come and go from the cottage as you please, the thing is you don't really want to. The farm grounds are okay; there is always the huge guard dog hybrids, Jack and Leon, who guard the grounds and of course always have an eye out for their pretty Kitty too, it's the outside world that's scary :(

There are just so many dangers! For example the sleazy but charming and charismatic fox, Luis. You've met him by accident when you were out to gather some flowers and he scared you bad when he suddenly seemed to appear behind you, his bushy tail flicking with delight at your scared expression :(

He was nice and all, very much a flirt but you didn't really mind. Luis was much different from the gruff, grumpy Jack and the excitable Leon; he was smooth like silk, especially his voice when it dipped as he purred to you when he got closer, his sharp fangs just about to nip your fuzzy cat ear when there was a sudden loud commotion and he got chased away by a furious, barking Jack who came barreling at Luis, Leon following right after him.

Then there is of course the huge wolf hybrid, Heisenberg. He's a mean old wolf who always loves to scare you half to death :(( Chases you the moment he spots you, his huge sharp teeth gnashing in his maw as you sprint back onto the farm grounds, yowling your pretty head off as he just lets out a loud bellowing laugh, cat calling you and teasing you that he will just eat you alive :((

He's awful! And the worst thing is that you both know he's much faster and stronger than you which he effortlessly proved when he chased you down once and actually caught you, pushing his hard leaky cock to your wet cunt and growling low in his throat that he'll mount and pup you, then drag you back into the forest to his den :( Luckily Jack chased him off right on time but the whole ordeal left you exhausted and embarrasingly wet; afterwards Krauser had to eat you out with a snarl, mumbling about having wolf smell on you so you had to be scented.

Last but not least there is also the huge but elusive cougar hybrid, Alcina. She's elusive and you only saw her once or twice at sundown when the sun was low already but she was no less intimidating, her huge fangs and glowing golden eyes glinting in the setting light. The sight made the fur on your back and tail stand, she was so intimidating!

You even started to call her 'Lady Alcina' since she had this elegant but dangerous air around her, making you both scared and curious about the huge wild cat hybrid.

But despite everything, at the end of the day you got to curl up inside the warm cottage, the fire roaring in the fireplace as you laid all comfy in the nest in the corner of the room, Leon cuddled up right behind you as he diligently preened and scented you while Jack laid on his side and observed his mates take care of each other <3

[postersofleon]

las plagas:

your heart dropped when you saw leon grunt with pain. luis tried to stop you when you got too close. "el se va hacer en un insecto." luis warned you. you couldn't stop to make a remark until you held leon's cheeks against the palm of your hands. leon couldn't see you. his eyes had his vein all black like ink. he groaned weakly as he cried out. "leon..." you held leon tightly. c'mon, you can finish this mission without him. you couldn't stop holding him against your neck.

by keeping him close. your mind was worried he might turn into a zombie, but he wasn't a zombie. he was infected by a damn bug. all you can do is comfort him. maybe he didn't feel the comfort. but you need to promise him he'll be okay. leon gasped loudly until you felt leon growing small fangs.

"luis, help me." you muttered angrily. you weren't in the mood for shit. you were going to help leon.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦 ⚜

Sources: One (I lost this link T_T but it was on pinterest. I'll add it if I find it!!) | Two | Three

Event Host: @wickblr

Summary: Sebastian LaCroix gets creative to make Vincent a cup of "hot chocolate" from blood, since he can't eat sweets anymore. (Crossover with Vampire: The Masquerade)

CW: blood, semi-sensual kisses with fangs, and lots of fluff <3

Hot chocolate was a simple enough recipe for kine. For kindred, it was, undeniably, a little more complex, but Sebastian LaCroix had always been a man of ambition. And Vincent had taken the loss of sweets so terribly hard after the embrace…it was really heartbreaking. Something had to be done about it.

LaCroix put his ingenuity to work one day in late October. Vincent had just come in from a blustery night, scattered with the flecks of a first snowfall. The concrete and asphalt floor of LA was just barely too warm for the snow to stick, but the air still stung. Sebastian kissed his lover’s icy cheeks, but it only earned a momentary half-smile before the Marquis’ perfect mouth returned to a pout. “J'espère que tout s'est bien passé? [I trust everything went well?]”

“Votre précieuse Mascarade est intacte. [Your precious Masquerade is intact],” he said, pulling away to sink into the couch by the fireplace. So he was annoyed. Apparently, it had been a long work night.

“Mon associé ne t’a posé aucun problème ? S’il l’a fait, je veillerai à ce qu’il soit convenablement puni. [My associate didn’t give you any trouble? If he did, I’ll see that he’s suitably punished.]”

Vincent shrugged. “Oh, il est mort maintenant. Pas besoin de s'embêter. J'aimerais seulement, les soirs comme ce soir, pouvoir rentrer à la maison avec un parfait ou un vin doux ou… de toute façon. Je vais me nourrir dans un moment, mais ce n'est pas pareil. [Oh, he’s dead now. No need to bother. I only wish, on nights like tonight, that I could come home to a parfait or a sweet wine or…anyway. I’ll feed in a while, but it’s not the same.]”

“Ah. Je suis désolé, mon amour. [Ah. I’m sorry, love.]” Sebastian stifled a smile. He had chosen the perfect day to prepare his recipe, it seemed. “Installez-vous un peu. J'ai quelques affaires à régler en bas. [Settle in for a bit. I have some matters to attend to downstairs.]”

“Bien. [Fine.]” Vincent’s eyes didn’t move from the fire.

In some twenty minutes, Sebastian emerged from the elevator carrying a gold tray, set with an enormous, fluted parfait cup. Vincent was still tucked into his seat, evidently more relaxed now. Sebastian took a moment to just look at him, to admire his quietude. He was reading, with his chin resting on one hand while the other supported the book on his knee. His face was placid and yet engaged, absorbed in some dreamy world, lips moving ever so slightly at times to savor the form of a particular word or phrase. It was almost a shame to disturb him. But Sebastian noticed that he’d also wrapped the throw blanket around himself. Sometimes, it bothered Vincent to be so cold from the inside out – he still wasn’t accustomed to it. And Sebastion could help with that.

He approached delicately, setting the tray on the coffee table in front of him. “Vinny,” he said, sing-song.

“Bast,” came the echo, natural and effortless, even before he closed his book. At last he looked to the coffee table, raising an eyebrow. “Qu'est-ce que c'est? [What is that?]”

“C'est du chocolat chaud pour toi. Et c'est vraiment caféiné. [It’s hot chocolate for you. And it really is caffeinated.]” LaCroix couldn’t help grinning with pride over his handiwork. “J'ai trouvé le noble le plus né possible, je lui ai donné autant de sucreries qu'il pouvait en manger et je lui ai injecté suffisamment de caféine pour qu'il soit mort dans une heure. J'ai même demandé au chef de faire des miracles avec de la mousse de sang et de la poudre d'os pour la chantilly. [I found the highest born nobleman I could, fed him as many sweets as he could eat, and pumped him with enough caffeine injections that he’ll be dead in an hour. I even had the chef work some miracles with frothed blood and bone powder for the whipped cream.]”

Vincent just stared at the cup for a moment, his expression quivering in the most touched sort of way. “Tu as fait ça… pour moi? [You did this…for me?]”

Sebastian smiled. This was one of the many contradictions of Vincent – if he had asked for hot chocolate himself, he wouldn’t have dreamed of being denied his request and would’ve been outraged at anyone who suggested he didn’t deserve it. But when it was a gift, he was painfully overcome with disbelief. “Eh bien, je ne vois personne d’autre dans la pièce, n’est-ce pas ? Essayez-le. [Well I don’t see anyone else in the room, do you? Try it.]”

The cup was big enough that even Vincent had to lift it with both hands (Sebastian wanted to get every last drop of blood that he could). It made him look adorable as he put it to his lips and came away covered in whipped cream. Sebastian leaned over and kissed it off of him, taking the time to run his tongue along each lip and caress each of Vincent’s fangs, which were protruding in eagerness at the taste of blood. He was rewarded with a shiver of pleasure from Vincent. Sebastian sighed against his lover’s mouth. “Mmm… J'ai bien fait, semble-t-il. Il a presque aussi bon goût que toi. [Mmm…I did well, it seems. It tastes almost as good as you.]”

The fresh blood all went to Vincent’s cheeks. “Oui, c'est le cas - presque. Arrête d'être charmant pour que je puisse le boire avant qu'il ne refroidisse. [Yes it does - almost. Stop being charming so I can drink it before it gets cold.]” But he stole another kiss in spite of that, long and fierce with gratitude. His words were barely a whisper. “Je ne sais pas pourquoi tu es si gentil avec moi. [I don’t know why you’re so kind to me.]”

An ache rushed into in his heart, as if it was threatening to start beating. Sebastian fell against the couch next to the Marquis and put an arm around him. “Tu ne peux pas dire des choses comme ça, ma petite fraise, pas autour d'une simple tasse de chocolat chaud. Tu me fais trop sentir comme ça. [You can’t say things like that, my little strawberry, not over a simple cup of hot chocolate. You make me feel too much as it is.]”

For a moment, he was too flustered to speak. “Er - hmmm. Eh bien, je dirai simplement « merci ». [Er - hmmm. Well then, I’ll just say ‘thank you.’]” He noticed Sebastion pulling the blanket over both of them, snuggling up to his side. “Essaies-tu de voler ma chaleur? Ensuite, tu demanderez une gorgée de chocolat et tu ne pourrez pas en avoir. [Are you trying to steal my heat? Next you’ll be asking for a sip of chocolate, and you can’t have any.]”

Sebastion kissed him just above that pesky lapel that was hiding his jugular away. “C’est très bien, de toute façon, je préfère le boire dans ton cou plutôt que dans une tasse. [That’s fine, I’d prefer to drink it from your neck than the cup anyway.]”

“Diablerist,” Vincent giggled, and took another long drink. He came away beaming with a childish joy, and even warmer. Sebastian was starting to feel his faint, gentle heat even through both the vest and the tailcoat. “Tu as interrompu mon livre, Bast. [You interrupted my book, Bast],” he accused, in mock seriousness.

“C'est ce que j'ai fait. Comment puis-je me rattraper? [That I did. How can I make it up to you?]” God, Vincent owned him. He was utterly lost.

“Lisez-moi pendant que je prends mon dessert. [Read to me while I have my dessert.]” The contradiction again - here was the imperious side of Vincent, who had been so shy and grateful just moments ago. And Sebastian was only too happy to obey.

[strawberrybobamilk]

GTA Protagonists x Reader Scenarios - Spending Halloween With Them

TW: Language, suggestive ending

Claude

Halloween isn't his favorite holiday, but will have lots of fun in decorating the house, eating sweets and bingewatching movies with you anyway.

Tommy

Likes watching classic 80s horror movies with you and dressing up as the villains from those movies.

"Trick or treat motherfuckers!"

Carl

He doesn't care how old you both are, he'll happily go trick or treating with you. He'll refuse to go dressed as a ghost, vampire etc though, as he thinks they are "too generic and unoriginal".

You: "What will you dress up as then?"

CJ: "A Ballas member. Nothing is nastier than them"

Toni

He'll go trick or treating with you, dressed up as a bloodstained killer butcher.

You: "Er, interesting choice, but why?..."

Toni: "Trust me, you don't wanna know"

Victor

Will surprise you with a pumpkin pie with cute spider decorations.

"Thought it would be a nice Halloween treat, darling"

Niko

He personally never really cared about Halloween, but definitely won't say no to candy corn! Also expect Roman, Mallorie and Brucie to come visit, all dressed up in various wacky costumes.

"Well, at least it's nice here with you guys"

Johnny

For him this day is more like an excuse to wear vampire fangs (he secretly has a thing for vampires).

"Damn you look hot, can you keep those on next month too? Or even better, forever?"

Luis

Will make his club serve pumpkin flavored cocktails to celebrate.

"Come over here and have a taste Y/N! It's free for you, like always"

Huang

Will buy more candy than usual during october. He says it's in order to ensure they have a good stock of them for october 31th, but you know it's just an excuse. Will wake up feeling sick on november 1st.

You: "I told you to not eat so much candy Huang!"

Huang: "Urgh, it's not the candy Y/N, it's... something that's not the candy, okay?!"

Franklin

He'll just chill with you and watch horror movies together.

"Alright let's do this, gotta use my Vinewood+ subscription somehow!"

Michael

Similarly to Franklin, he will (DEFINITELY) watch horror movies with you, but only the older ones.

"Ahhh, the old classics, the newer ones focus too much on jumpscares and gore"

Trevor

Loves Halloween, its spooky and gritty atmosphere, and will carve pumpkins with you already by september 1st. Just don't ask him why do those pumpkins have "questionable" holes.

"It's called a pumpkink sweetcheeks"

[odditycircus-2002]

Medusa!Reader and Shang Tsung in MK1: Part 7

PREVIOUS

NEXT

SPOILER ALERT: Proceed with Caution

"It seems that my fangs proved deadlier."

Seconds after you say that to a defeated Nitara, you hear chanting before you're hit with a blast of bright green magic that wraps around your snake and your eyes. You're sent sprawling on the ground, shouting in surprise before your mouth is gagged by the same green magic. The gag was placed in a way that kept your fangs bared but unable to close your mouth fully.

You feel two people grab both of your arms. Their grip proved steel, as no matter how much you writhed around or tried to throw them off, their hold would not break. You then hear a new voice, a deep male voice dripping with pretentious smugness.

"It seems I have returned just in time to clean up Shang Tsung's mess."

You then feel cold and heavy metal wrapped around your wrists and arms, binding your wings to your back. The voice then commands your guards to take you back to the fortress. They then drag you away with a chain attached to your manacles, back to the mountain, back to the stone fortress embedded within. You did not make it easy to cross those few meters as you writhed and thrashed around in your bondage, which resulted in you being met with a surge of magic that caused your muscles to lock up and spasm, sending you to the ground. Even then, you left gouges in the stone below you as you were dragged on the stairs and floors.

Eventually, you're forced on your knees in front of the man you ran from in the first place.

"Must you make everything difficult, Y/N?"

Shang Tsung chuckled at your surprised body language, explaining that he's not easy to eliminate. This you should know by now. He would punish you for your misbehavior later; his benefactor has informed him it's time for you to fulfill your role. You barely had time to ponder this strange development before; unseen to you, some ornate vials shaped like dragons were placed directly under your fangs.

You flinched away when you felt Shang's thumbs press and massage against your gums, directly where your large fangs are. He commands your two guards to hold you still, thus restraining you to keep your head in place. You let out a displeased, muffled hiss as Shang essentially milks your venom from you until both vials are fully filled with venom. The Sorcerer coos to you patronizing praise for producing so much venom and assures you that you've been an immensely vital part of his plan. You mentally wish for him to drop dead; however, this isn't granted.

Shang then tells you that he'll be back soon, but first, he must speak with Quan-chi about the production of something called "Soul Stealers". He informs your guards to treat you well but not to hesitate to "discipline" you should you act out of line.You're given the motivation to acquiesce when feeling the biting steel of a blade being held at your throat.

Eventually, you pulled back on your feet and led away into a different location. You can make out Shang's voice and two voices you don't recognize. You were directly behind the two new voices, with one of the rougher tones inquiring about your identity. A shiver goes down your spine when Shang's crazed gaze glances at you with an obsessive gleam. He gladly introduces you as essential to his plans and his other partner besides Quan-chi. You don't see Kuai-Liang's eyes widen in recognition of you from Lord Lui Kang's description.

"Brother, this is the person Lord Lui Kang instructed us to rescue!"

Yet, Bi-Han doesn't care, nor does he listen to his younger brother again when he pleads for Bi-han not to listen to Shang. You nod in agreement with the smoother voice, briefly gaining Kuai-Liang's attention from how you caused your chains to rattle. So you listened in as Shang informed the group about Emperor Ying, a former ruler in Earthrealm and whose fortress you've been confined in. This includes Emperor Ying's dragon army made of stone and their dormant enchantments.

Your attention is fully captured when Shang explains that while they're reanimated by soul fragments, they're controlled by the venom, YOUR venom, mixed within the vials. You don't see how the Sorcerer then pours the unholy concoction onto a crown with dragons decorated in the design and dawns it on his brow. However, you could hear ancient stone slabs shifting over one another and barely audible screams as the Dragon Arm comes to life. Their movements echoed within the wide-open cave as they all moved in sync, a perfect machine. You then hear chains rattling as they're removed from what you can gather to be Bi-Han.

Soon after, you hear the sounds of Kombat surrounding you and your guards from either side of you. You then hear the voice of Kuai-Liang warning you that it might burn a little. Before you could ask, you sense a great flare of heat around your arms, which you use to snap the weakened metal holding the manacle together followed by your arms and wings.

While you could remove the gag Quan-chi put on you, you couldn't remove the bonds around your head. So, you rely on your sense of hearing and smell to fight alongside Kuai-Liang against Shang Tsung and General Shao. The latter, you did not hesitate to riddle with various wounds as you constantly tried to go for his neck to rip open. Although the ninja did defeat his opponents, Shang doesn't hesitate to use his new crown to send some of the Dragon Army to charge towards the both of you. Kuai-Liang places you behind him before lighting a wall of fire so hot, you could feel its searing heat even from behind him. You weren't able to see how he melted the statues into molten metal nor one of their swords melting before they could impale him between the eyes. Once he melted all of them, he directs you to piggyback on his back before running off.

He could both effortlessly carry you and sneak around the fortress toward the front gates. You held your breath as you hear Quan-chi speaking with Rain. The fact that Rain would conspire with these mad men still broke your heart. You didn't see Rain as he crept behind you and Kuai-Liang before releasing a blast of water, sending both of you to the ground.

"I know it'sss you, Rain! Out of all the people that could betray the Empire-"

"Were you not always encouraging me to test my limits?"

You let out a hiss as you bare your fangs toward the High Mage. Luckily, while you and Kuai-Liang fought the hydromancer, his magic managed to break Quan-chi's bonds, allowing you to turn him into stone. You do this again when fighting Darius while Kuai-Liang fought with Havik. Eventually, both of you met up with Smoke and explained what transpired. You express deep gratitude toward Kuai-Liang for freeing you from your captivity, saying how you owe him a debt.

You start with this by sedating Bi-han for extra precaution after Kuia-Liang defeats his brother and Grandmaster. As all of you ran off with him, you were stopped by a rumbling that could be heard all the way back to the fortress, where beams of green light could be seen, indicating the Soul Stealers to be active. All of you look toward one another as dread fills all of your expressions.

Playlist while writing this:

"Kings and Queens" by Ava Max

"Smoke and Mirrors" by Jayn

"Teeth" By 5 Seconds to Summer

"Milk and Cookies" by Melanie Martinez

"Venom" by Eminem

"Nowhere to Run" by Martha and the Vandellas

"Sweet But Psycho" by Ava Max

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this and please don't forget to like, reblog, and comment, as that motivates me to write and release more posts like this sooner.😁😁😁 Stay weird, my fellow humans.

[murfeelee]

IWTV Claudia's Celebration of Life: Spark in the Dark - Alternate Universe

As the title suggests, this event is to celebrate the wonderful Claudia; her personality, her aspirations, her journey. The heart for the past two seasons of AMC Interview with The Vampire. This is to take the narrative back to her, proving she's not just a shingle roof for us.

2. Aug 13th & 14th: Alternate Universe

“It’s chaos after you die. It’s a dream from which you cannot wake.” Armand says quietly to Daniel. “Imagine drifting half in and out of consciousness, trying vainly to remember who you are or what you were. Imagine straining forever for the lost clarity of the living—” Armand stops suddenly to glare somewhere to Lestat’s left. “Lestat, I beg you on bended knee to close your mind. I cannot bear to listen to her any longer.” “Listen to who,” Louis asks, sharp as fangs. “CLAUDIA!” Lestat shouts into the swamp, spinning in his inner tube. “These drugs are making me hallucinate our dead daughter. I’ve been listening to her explain exactly how I failed her with much virulence and creativity for the last forty-five minutes.” “What’s she like?” Louis asks, eager as anything. “Magnifique,” Lestat answers immediately. “She despises me. She’s wearing a yellow… I believe it is called a tankini. She has a margarita....” Lestat twists in his tube to glare at Armand. “Montre-lui/ Show him.” Louis squeezes his eyes shut, wrists limp in front of him. Armand’s mindgift transmission is jagged and blurry from the drugs, and Lestat’s view is all the more distorted by his own intoxication, but it’s her, it’s her. Claudia rises from the dead to berate Lestat from her very own inner tube, pausing only to take sips from her human drink. At least she is granted liquor in the hopeless afterlife that is haunting Lestat. Claudia’s hair is pulled back the way it was the day she passed, but her face is baby smooth, no trace of the injury the coven had subjected her to before her murder. She smiles at Lestat, dimple still adorable, no matter how old she gets. “And I don’t give one solitary sh*t if you’ve got him d**kmatized,” Claudia tells Lestat. “He says he forgives you for letting me die?” She brings her fingers together and gestures to her own chest. “I don’t f**king forgive you! ” Claudia starts singing in mockery, bitter as her daddy on his worst nights. She cups her hands (Her beautiful hands! The simple pleasure of her hand in his!) around her mouth like a megaphone. “I don’t forgivveeee you!” “Jesus Christ,” Louis hears Daniel say in the real world before exploding into choking coughs. In Lestat’s psychosis as translated by Armand on LSD, Claudia keeps at it. She urges Lestat to find new and innovative ways to kill himself, embodying Lestat’s senselessness and Louis’ sense in her rage. Their courageous, intelligent, honest-to-God hurricane of a daughter does not look Louis’ way the whole memory, even though Louis deserves the privilege of meeting her eyes again so much more than Lestat does. Even though Louis has spent a lifetime fasting and praying for it. But she is Lestat’s ghost, she haunts him just like she said she would, and Louis figures… He hears his own laugh—hysterical—as the memory ends, the tears wet on his cheeks. Louis figures he’s just too sane to see her these days.

-- Alligator Tears, @siahatha

MY THOUGHTS & CC CREDITS

MY THOUGHTS

A day late, cuz I was busy yesterday.

This post was directly inspired by the latest chapter of an extremely good & unhinged post-canon modern AU IWTV fanfic, where Loustat are back together, Devil's Minion is a thing, and Lestat's being haunted by the ghost of Claudia's memory. Louis' sad that he can only see her through Armand, cuz he can't read his Maker Lestat's mind, ofc.

CC CREDITS

-- IP EP pool floats by me

-- Lestat heatstroke tan line in gamma by me

-- Blood bags by @thebleedingwoodland (X X)

-- Louis swimsuit at MTS

-- Gators at Simszoo

[zepskies]

Devour Me - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized/Latina!Reader 

Summary: When you and Dean start to press each other’s buttons, both of your tempers ignite. To make up for it, you give him an impromptu salsa dancing lesson…one he didn’t exactly ask for. (18+)

AN: Here's Part 2! **Read Devour Me: Part 1

Song Inspo: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique. But really it’s “Ven Devórame Otra Ves” by Lalo Rodriguez. (You’ll see why.) 🤭

Word Count: 5,400

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Blood, character death and violence, smutty smut, angst, Dominican slang, and tons of sexy fluff.

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

Part 2: "Telenovela Style"

Your resulting scream of agony is as unforgiving as the ground when your knees buckle, hitting the hard cement.

Andy grips you with the strength of a monster. 

Then he holds you down as he drinks your blood. 

No matter how you struggle and whimper, you can’t push him off, and you’re getting weaker by the second.

Until Andy is ripped away from your neck, and is taken care of the way all vampires must be. He doesn’t even feel the blade coming. 

When you’re able to look up, Dean stands above you with thinly veiled fury. He doesn’t have time to consider what he’s just done. 

He bends to gather you up into his arms, all the while trying to stamp down the panic clenching his heart. He calls your name, but you can only make weak sounds as your bleary eyes meet his. 

“Dean,” you manage. The ragged wound in your neck is bleeding profusely down your chest and shoulder, seeping into your shirt. He takes your hand and clamps it hard against your neck, even though it makes you whimper.

“Gotta stop the bleeding,” he says, apologetic but firm. “Keep pressing.”

In your stupor of pain, you don’t realize that your screech woke the entire nest. Dean has to lock up his worry; he looks up and finds his brother and Cas already fighting a hoard of angry vampires. 

Dean carries you over to them and lays you down against the wall with the other humans. He keeps a protective line in front of you, but he decapitates a vampire before she can sink her fangs into Sam next.

The two of them work together, and with Castiel’s smiting power behind them, the angel and the two men are able to clear the rest of the nest. 

By the end, only you and two of the women being held captive are still alive. The third girl’s heart just finally gave out. Sam takes the survivors to the nearest hospital. 

Meanwhile, Castiel approaches where you sit up against the inside of the barn, barely awake, while Dean kneels with you, holding you to his chest. He meet’s Cas’s blue-eyed request with a nod. So Cas stretches out a hand and touches two fingers to your forehead. 

You’re healed in an instant. Dean marvels, like he always does when Cas displays his power. Dean is able to breathe a little easier, the vice grip on his heart easing as he touches your neck.

The tan skin is once again smooth, if still stained with blood. You blink back into wakeful consciousness. 

He shifts so he can see your face. “You okay?” 

You meet his eyes but can only nod. His jaw is still tight and tense, and you can’t blame him. 

You know you’ve messed up. Big time. You nearly got everyone killed, including yourself…and now, you have to tell a mother that her son is dead. 

Dean helps you up, holding you by your arms and waist until you’re steady on your feet. You have a hard time meeting his eyes, but when open your mouth to apologize, he beats you to it. 

“I hope you’ve learned your damn lesson,” he says. 

Your gaze snaps up to his. “Excuse me?”

Dean’s hands go to his hips as his brows raise at you. 

“Next time, when I tell you to hang back, I mean that shit. Hang the hell back,” he all but growls. 

You tilt your head at him as your irritation begins to spark. Meanwhile, Castiel is the one who backs up as he glances between you and Dean uncertainly.

“I made a mistake, but that doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do,” you shoot back. “I was a hunter long before I met you.” 

“Yeah, well, color me surprised that you’ve made it this long,” he snaps. 

Your temper flares hotter. “You know, you’re not so goddamn perfect either.” 

“Never said I was,” Dean says. “But when my gut tells me something ain’t right, I need you to fucking listen. Otherwise, we get a day like today.”

His words are edged with grit by the end of his little rant, and you don’t appreciate it. Your lips purse in anger.

“I don’t care what that legendary gut tells you,” you sass back. “I’m not a little girl, and you’re not my damn father!”

Dean raises incredulous brows at the way you’re shouting at him. He crosses his arms. 

“What’s this, some kind of Latina temper?” he asks snidely. 

You truly become incensed at that. 

“Oh, you want to take it there?” you ask, as your eyes narrow. “Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Dean won’t admit it, but in that moment, he’s a bit intimidated by the quiet threat in your voice. Still, his fuse is lit, and he’s way beyond curbing his internal filter.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does this telenovela-style tongue lashing come with subtitles?” he snarks. 

You let out an incredulous breath. Your eyes begin to sting.

“You’re such an asshole!” you shout back. There, understand that?

You turn away from him before your frustrated tears can fall, but you stop short once you notice Castiel dragging out the bodies of the dead…including Andy. Your throat constricts, and you begin to stalk out of the barn. 

Dean calls your name in frustration. 

“What?” you hiss. 

The only thing that makes him hesitate is seeing the state of you when you turn back around. His anger crumbles, and maybe something in him breaks when he sees your tears. They’ve welled up in your eyes, and a few of them carve a path down your cheeks. 

You’re still covered in your own blood, and he hates it. He hates it more than anything. 

Later, you see the state of yourself when Sam returns with the Impala. In the reflection on the backseat window, you see the blood dried down your neck, staining nearly half of your shirt.

You see the black rings of your mascara and eyeliner around your eyes. You look a mess, and you try to wipe underneath your eyes. It’s a fruitless effort.

After you all finish burning the bodies, Dean starts the long drive home. You insist on stopping to tell Rachel Campbell about her son, but Sam says he already took care of it when he drove into town. 

You frown, but you no longer have the energy to be angry. You further withdraw into yourself, and your lower lip trembles as you look out the window. Through the rearview mirror, Dean sees more tears slipping down your face.

What Sam told him (but he won’t tell you), is what one of the survivors said. One of the mated pairs had taken Andy…to “adopt” a son of their own. 

That night is quiet and tense in Dean’s room. You have to wash your hair all over again, and scrub the blood and grime from your body until only your skin remains. But you don’t have the energy to do more than braid your wet hair afterwards and pull on your lucky Journey shirt, which is still full of holes. 

Dean knows that it’s bad when you need the “dreamcatcher,” as he’s called it in his head. You’ve never had a nightmare while wearing that shirt, or so you claimed a while back. 

You wear it over some long pajama pants instead of your usual shorts, or better yet, nothing at all. But he can see what kind of mood you’re in. Things are unsettled as you both get ready for bed in silence. 

He notes the way you turn to face the other side in bed, maybe to avoid him. Though if you really wanted to do that, you could’ve gone to your old room.

So in more ways than one, Dean takes some solace in the fact that you’re still next to him. And he decides to give you some time and space. 

He goes to bed and tries in vain to sleep.

In the morning, Dean’s woken by the familiar smell of coffee…and the less familiar sound of loud salsa music. 

What the fuck?

After he brushes his teeth, he puts on his robe and slippers and heads down to the kitchen, where he finds you in a seemingly better mood. You’re mopping the floor, of all things. You’re out of your pajamas, instead wearing a loose shirt that falls off your shoulder and some spandex shorts. 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo,” you sing softly along with the music as you dance from the kitchen to the living room. Your phone is connected to a Bluetooth speaker on the coffee table. 

Dean starts to smile, crossing his arms as he leans against the doorway to watch you.

At an instrumental break with a run of conga drums and trumpets, you pause in your mopping to do a little twirl as you dance, with a soulful roll of hips and a flair of salsa steps. It makes Dean’s smile kick up into a smirk.

He walks in on purposefully light feet until he’s sidled up behind you in the living room.

“Nice moves, Shakira,” he quips. 

It startles a shriek of surprise out of you as you whirl around. Dean’s smile hikes up into a grin, but it soon fades when he remembers the way your scream rang through his ears last night. The way his heart dropped into his stomach, and his head swiveled at the sound. And he saw you go down hard. 

Then the rest of it tumbles through his mind—what he had to do afterwards in order to save you. How he’d did it without really thinking, his panic and determination blocking out almost everything else when he’d grabbed the kid. The monster, he forcibly reminds himself. 

“You trying to give me a heart attack?” you ask with a hand on your heart. 

Dean forces himself to smile a little. “Sorry. But might I remind you, not everyone here’s an early bird.”

You give him a wry look.

“You’re the only one around here who sleeps past 10 a.m. Cas dipped out a while ago, and Sam’s on a run.” 

But you graciously grab your phone to lower the music to a more bearable level. Dean doesn’t yet know this about you, but this—listening to music, dancing, cleaning—it’s all your way of coping…and releasing as much of your pain, terror, and regret from yesterday as possible. 

You then look up at him more guarded. The two of you exchanged a lot of unsavory words last night. In fact, it may just be the worst fight you two have ever had in almost three years of knowing one another.  

Dean senses the shift in you, and his amusement fades. He just can't let things stay like this. He won't.

He hazards drawing closer and touching your arm.

“Look…I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know I was being a dick,” he says. “You’ve just gotta understand something.”

You wait for him to continue with furrowed brows, sensing that whatever he’s about to say is hard for him. 

“There’s a reason I don’t do this. The uh, relationship thing,” Dean continues, clearing his throat. His thumb swipes along your arm. “It’s not just this job. It’s my fucked up life. I tried to warn you before—” 

“Dean,” you say with a sigh, but he raises his hand. 

“Please, just…let me say it,” he says. “You know the spiel. But things can change on a dime. Even on a damn milk run, like a dusty nest of vamps.”

You know that. You know you could’ve died yesterday, and he doesn’t need to remind you of that fact. Before you can start to get petulant again though, Dean continues. His jaw is working, like this next part is more difficult for him to admit.

“Trust me when I say, us being together is dangerous, for both of us,” he says. “For a while I, uh…I started to think Sam and I were better off alone.”

That casts you into dismay. Because you know Dean isn’t lying. He’s really contemplated spending the rest of his life devoid of love, so he won’t have to lose it. 

Dangerous, for both of us.

You realize then what Dean’s really saying. He’s afraid…afraid to lose you. You see it in his furrowed brows, the downturn of his lips, and whatever pain he’s trying to hide in the depths of his eyes. 

And just like that, the water works start. You can’t quite keep your tears at bay as you hold onto his shirt. He lets out a resigned sigh as he holds you by your arms. 

“You don’t have to cry for that,” he says, a bit teasing. 

“Have you met me?” you sniff. But you manage to look up at him with your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry too. God, I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

Your fist clenches in his shirt when you remember Andy, latched onto your neck, and how Dean had to save you. You know he’s remembering it too when his brows furrow, and his gaze falls away. You reach a hand for his cheek.

“I know I fucked up,” you admit. “I was working with my heart, not my head. I just…”

You wanted so badly to help that kid and his mother. You also know that Dean understands; you see it in his eyes. He holds your hand to his cheek and brushes his thumb across the back of your hand.

“I know,” he says. “I really am sorry, baby.” 

The problem is, you didn’t just see your own mother in Rachel. She hadn’t been much older than you. And when you imagine a life beyond hunting, more than anything (no matter how much you shove down the idea), you really do want a family of your own someday. 

It’s just…days like yesterday remind you why that could be a very bad idea. 

More of your tears bubble over, and you head willingly into Dean’s arms. “Me too…”

He holds you tighter than ever. His hands rub down your back, tangle in your hair, and he drops his lips onto your hair. You sniffle, wiping your face dry in his shirt. And for a while, the two of you have peace in the relative quiet. 

Music still plays from the speaker though. And when another salsa song starts to play on your playlist, you start swaying. A smile works its way onto Dean’s face. 

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” he teases.

You smile into his chest. “We should go dancing sometime.”

Dean just laughs. “Oooh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” you reply, batting your lashes up at him. You slip a hand on his shoulder and into one of his hands. He’s forced to hold you as if the two of you were about to start Fred Astair-ing across the living room. 

“Have you ever danced before?” you ask. “Like real dancing.” 

“Not salsa, I’ll tell you that,” he quips. 

“That’s okay. I’ll teach you,” you reply with a coquettish smile. “It’s just a few simple moves.”

Dean gives you a wan look. “You made it look anything but simple.”

You blush at that, but you meet him with a pout of disappointment. You don’t let up, even when Dean frowns. He huffs at you in resistance.

“No,” he insists. You just brush a gentle thumb along his neck, biting your lip in askance.  

But the longer he stares at your beautiful, hopeful eyes, the more cracks form in his resolve. 

Eventually, Dean breaks with a sigh, and a shake of his head. 

“You’re too much, you know that?” he mutters.

It’s then that you know you’ve won.

So with a happy squeal of excitement, you clap your hands and move to stand next to him so you can show him the basic steps of salsa dancing. 

You make him take off his robe and slippers, leaving in his shirt and plaid pajama pants. Then you instruct him for a few minutes, correcting his footing and getting him to move on a beat. You’re pleasantly surprised that he has some rhythm.  

Dean sighs once again. How the hell did we get here? Heat crawls up the back of his neck as embarrassment starts to set in. 

“This is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles.

“You’re doing good,” you encourage, with a growing smile. “Now come on, feel the beat in threes. One, two, three. One, two, three…”

Once he sort of has the basic steps and turns down, you move to stand in front of him. There you show him how to hold you, how he’ll move forward, and you’ll move back. It takes a little while, but you slowly move through the combinations, then do a little twirl underneath his hand. 

When he pulls you back in without faltering, you give him a beaming smile. “Very good!”

A subtle grin raises his lips at your enthusiasm. He also feels his face heating up at the praise.

But you pause when a certain song filters through the speakers. It’s an old one (and it never fails to make you blush), but you love it.  

“Ooh, yes,” you exclaim with delight, and you turn up the volume.

“What’s this one?” Dean asks.

“Ven Devórame Otra Ves,” you inform him. Not that he knows what that means. You sing along a bit with the first couple of verses while you encourage Dean to lead you in the dance. 

This song is just slow enough for him to attempt it, and the funny thing is, he doesn’t feel all that uncomfortable with the steps now. He’s starting to get a feel for how to move, both with his feet, and with his hands as he guides you by your waist, holding your hand close to his chest. Still, Dean’s also curious about the lyrics you’re singing. 

“What does it mean?” he asks.

You huff in amusement. “You sure you want to know?”

Dean raises a brow. “Well, now I gotta know.” 

You giggle at that, though you correct his steps when he leads with the wrong foot. 

“Okay. It’s about a guy who’s pretty much a player,” you say with a smirk. “His bed has been a revolving door of hot ass, but he keeps thinking about this one woman who used to have him turned inside out…”

Dean’s lips curve at the familiar image you’re conjuring. He manages to turn you under his hand, then pull you back to him in one smooth motion. He looks down at you with a deeper gleam in his eyes. You bite your lip, soothing your hand from his shoulder and down his arm.

As the song’s verses come, you translate for him. And for Dean, your voice in itself is a spell.

“Even in my dreams, he says, I thought I had you devouring me. And I dampened my white sheets remembering you,” you begin. Your words are smooth like black velvet. “In my bed, no one is like you, who draws my body on every corner, without a piece of skin left over.”

Dean is getting hot under the collar as you push away, dragging your fingertips along his back as you turn around him. When you come back into his line of vision, his attention is attracted to the sway of your hips, clad just in those little spandex shorts. He has to clear his throat a bit. 

You eventually return to him with a warm hand against his chest. 

“Ven, devórame otra ves. It means, come devour me again,” you continue, looking up at him from under your lashes, “Come punish me more with your desire. Because I kept my love for you…because my mouth has the taste of your body.” 

You smile at the laser focus of his green-eyed gaze. “Come devour me again.”

You push off with another little spin. When you reach for his hand, Dean yanks you back into him, eliciting a gasp. The move disorients you for a moment, but you giggle and hold onto his arms. Your hands glide up to rest on his shoulders. 

He’s holding you flush against him, and as you shift a thigh between his legs, you unintentionally graze against his hardening length. You look up at him with a smirk.

“You’re a little…stiff,” you say, both flirtatious and teasing. “Let’s loosen you up.”

You shake his shoulders out and try to get him to relax. Dean raises a wry brow, because you know damn well whose fault it is that his body is coiled tight. But you place his hands on your hips as you move back into the dance. 

“Feel what I’m doing there?” you ask. He looks down on you with growing heat.

“If I could do that, we wouldn’t be together,” he rumbles. 

You try to stifle a laugh as he pulls you in close again, just swaying for a bit. Soon enough, you grin knowingly when his hands start to slide lower on your ass. His head bows to yours, ready to meet you with a kiss. 

You stop him with your finger on his lips.

“Question: do you consider yourself more of a tits or ass man?” you ask him. You’re half teasing, but still curious. Dean snorts at the question. 

“More of a connoisseur,” he replies, smirking. 

“Ah.” You nod sagely, and you point between him and yourself. “So this is like a ‘sample the menu’ situation.”

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Sweetheart, you’re a goddamn buffet.”

You splutter laughing…and that’s when he finally pounces. He claims your lips with greedy passion. His hand winds into your hair, gripping tight and ruining what’s left of your loose ponytail. The strands coil around his hand in messy curls while he also gets a healthy grip of your ass through your thin shorts. 

You smile into his lips, even as you acquiesce to him guiding your head to the side, so he can slip his tongue against yours. You grip his arms more for stability while he manhandles you, kneading soft flesh and making pleasant tingles run up your spine. 

After a little while, his mouth burns a hot path away from yours. He noses down your neck, skimming his lips across your skin. It sets your nerve endings on fire and gets you breathing more shallowly in his ear. You cling to the back of his shirt, holding him close. 

Often he’s one to leave love bites of varying degrees, wherever he sees fit. But for a moment he stops at the crook of your neck, just pressing a lingering kiss.

He lets out a deep breath, and you realize he’s probably thinking about where you were bitten. The wound is gone, but it doesn’t change what’s imprinted in both of your minds.  

A softer smile grows on your face. You trail your fingers up into his hair, massaging the back of his neck. 

“I’m okay,” you remind him. Dean hums deep in agreement. You know, however, that he’s still thinking far too much.

So you slide your hands down, slow between the dips and planes of muscle in his back, and rest at his hips. Your thumbs delve under the hem of his shirt and tease the skin there. 

And you start slow, pressing wet, nipping kisses of your own to his neck while you inch his shirt up. You feel his smile on your neck. His grip on your hip flares to life. Still, he lets you tug his shirt up and over his head. Your loose shirt comes next, revealing the same black satin and lace bra you wore the first time he ever got you topless in his arms. 

A fan favorite. Dean grins. He reaches around to go for the clasp, but your firm push on his chest takes him by surprise.

He falls back onto the couch with a grunt, looking up at you then with raised brows. You’ve got a mischievous little smirk on your face that heats his blood and makes his cock twitch.

You take out the rest of your falling ponytail, shaking your hair out wild. Then you let your hands drift down your neck, over your clothed breasts, and finally to your little shorts.

Dean rubs his palms down his thighs and watches. A smirk forms across his lips as you slide the fabric down the curve of your hips. It leaves you in a red thong, familiar to him by the little tear it has on the front. (Again, his fault.)

You climb aboard his strong thighs to straddle his lap, using his shoulders as leverage as you sink down. You make sure to rub yourself teasingly against his clothed erection. He groans in appreciation. His hands fly to your soft, thick thighs and squeeze. 

“Aw, I like this,” Dean says, half on another moan as you grind down a bit harder on him. 

“Yeah?” you tease. You take his face in your hands and capture his lips with your own. Your tongue invades his mouth, and he welcomes you with a deep hum. It’s slow and hot at first, but Dean feels the loss of you when you break from his lips.

Instead, you treat him with the same trail of kisses he gave you, along the curve of his jaw and down his neck. But you don’t stop there.

Your hands move over his chest with purpose, tweaking over each hard nipple while your mouth burns a wet line down and down his sternum. Dean groans at your ministrations, but lets you leave his lap to slide down to the ground, between his thighs. 

“What’re you up to, baby?” he asks, despite having a very good idea of it. He catches the playful, yet determined gleam in your eye. 

You pause, briefly leaning back up to give him a heated kiss. You part from him with a grin. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you ask. “I’m gonna devour you.”

Dean stares hard at you as goosebumps break out across his forearms. 

Oh, fuck yeah. 

A giggle bubbles in your throat at the expression on his face. But you continue, taking his pants down his legs first, before his boxer briefs. 

Dean’s body tenses in anticipation. You’ve gone down on him before, but somehow it’s different this time. He feels like every single one of his nerve endings stands at attention along with his dick. And you’re taking your sweet time working him up. 

Even when his cock is finally free, you sooth your hands down his legs first, maybe teasing him a bit as you drag your nails down his inner thighs. Dean makes a strained sound, though he tries to hide it by clearing his throat.

Your gaze flicks up to his with a little smile. He’s holding the back of the couch; his fingers are digging into the old cushion in effort to keep still for you. But his eyes stare into yours like a man starving. You know what you’re in for after you have your way with him, but for now, he’s quite literally under your control. 

So you take him in your hands first. Dean groans as you tease him with light touches, soft movements, your thumb slowly circling over the sensitive, weeping head of his cock. It's torturous enough to make him drop his head back against the couch, closing his eyes tight.

And suddenly, he blinks them open again.

“Shit,” he utters, when you finally take him into your mouth. Your tongue is soft and wet, your lips move over him steadily, and your hands caress whatever your mouth can’t take, even teasing his balls. 

You work him over relentlessly, until he can’t help but spill everything he has to give into your waiting mouth. When you suck off and swallow whatever remains, Dean’s heart stutters like syncopated conga drums. 

He shudders and struggles for breath afterwards, watching your every movement—from wiping your mouth to shooting him that satisfied little smirk. 

You press one last kiss to the inside of his thigh before you raise from where you’ve been kneeling on the hard ground. 

Dean manages to lean forward and helps you up by your elbows. But then he pulls you back into his lap and kisses you deeply. He doesn’t let up until you’re panting with him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” he manages to say. His voice is deep and laced with grit. 

He’s still panting heavily. You giggle and press your warming face into his neck. 

“What, now you’re shy?” he remarks. And he has to laugh. “Come back here.”

He brings your face back to him with a hand on your cheek. For a second, he just looks at you. His thumb strokes across your full, thoroughly kissed bottom lip.  

“Say it,” you encourage softly. “Whatever you’re thinking. Right now.”

A smile tugs at his lips. He can’t help but oblige you. 

“You’re too damn much,” he says again, both gruff and fond. Despite how you drive him up the fucking wall sometimes, he doesn't think it'll ever be enough for him, what he has with you.

Because this is something he'd almost given up on. Didn't think he'd get to have it. And it almost scares him, how much he wants you. How much he...

“I love you,” he says. His thumb traces along the familiar curve of your cheek.

It hasn’t been all that long, but he knows. You weaseled your way in without even trying. The least he can do for you is be honest.

Your fingers curl around his wrist, holding his hand in place. You tilt your head at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you ask. 

Dean hesitates, but he nods. “Yeah.”

A smile grows across your face. “Eh, I’m still on the fence.”

At his flat look, you laugh and lean in for a kiss. He allows it, a little petulantly. But you make up for it with sweet affection. Your gentle hands stroke down the column of his neck, down his chest. You then lean back so he can see your face.

“Yo te amo,” you whisper. “Te amo y te quiero, más que tú puedes creer y entender.”

Dean smiles. He doesn’t understand all of it, but he gets the important bits. He hears it in the tone of your voice. He sees it in your eyes. They shine with emotion, but mainly with love. 

Dean kisses your hand. He lets go, just so he can slip his hands around you to finally unhook your bra. He tosses it across the room without bothering to see where it lands.

You do though, and you meet him with a slightly narrowed gaze. 

“Are you making a mess of my clean bunker?” you tease. 

His lips curve as he kisses you again, while his hands each get a generous handful of your breasts. 

“Ah, hello, ladies." He grins. "Miss me?”

You can’t help but laugh. He’s such a dork sometimes.

But you hum when his thumbs brush over hardened nipples, then drag deliberate circles over them, and pinch just hard enough to make you whimper in pleasure. The sensation zips through you, enhancing the flood between your legs. 

“I fucking love that sound,” Dean mutters, and licks a hot path in the valley between your breasts. His lips move against your dewy skin when he says, “Do that for me again.”

When he takes a nipple in his mouth and nips a bit hard, you have to oblige him. Your voice rising high is music to his ears.  

So he goes for your panties next. You help him get them off and return to his lap. With a breathy moan, you revel at the feeling of his fingers probing into your wet heat.  

However, you and Dean have been too engrossed in one another to notice the door of the bunker unlocking, and heavy steps down the spiral staircase. 

It’s Sam who’s back from his run. Unfortunately, he soon has to shield his eyes upon reaching the living room. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

You yelp in surprise, but Dean laughs and holds you close to shield you from view. As a bonus, it presses your breasts against his chest. 

“All right, Sammy. Go to your room,” he chides playfully (but he means it). “The adults are havin’ a moment.”

Sam scoffs. “You’re having a moment on the goddamn couch!”

“Sorry,” you say, though it’s muffled in Dean’s neck. Your face is red hot with embarrassment. 

Sam rolls his eyes heavenward and tries not to see anything else on his way to his room. 

But Dean’s chuckle reverberates through your chest as his hand goes to your cheek. He encourages you to pull back, so he can see your face again. 

When he does, he smirks at the scarlet blush dusting your cheeks and neck. You bite your lower lip, but despite your embarrassment, you’re happy.

Your own words replay in your mind when you lean in for another kiss.

I love you, you’d said. I love you and I love you, more than you can believe and understand. 

AN: Yay! I hope you enjoyed Part 2 of the “Midnight Espresso”-verse! I loved writing this one so much. I know we're just doing fanfic here, but I genuinely put my heart and soul into this one. ❤️

Also, here are a couple of Spanish translations:

(Note: other Spanish-speaking countries may interpret certain words differently.)

[During their fight]: 

“Que sin vergüenza tú eres. Sigue jodiendo conmigo, coño. Entonces tú vas a ver quien soy yo.”

Translation:

“You’re shameless. Keep messing with me, damn it. Then you’re going to see who I am (<- This is Dominican slang. It essentially means fuck around and find out what I'm made of.).”

[Song lyrics: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique]: 

“Yo no se mañana…yo no se mañana. Si estaremos juntos, si se acaba el mundo.”

Translation:

“I don’t know tomorrow. I don’t know tomorrow. If we’ll be together, if the world will end.”

Keep Reading:

Next in this series is "Chico Malo" ("Bad Boy"):

Summary: You catch Dean red-handed—with one of his favorite episodes of Casa Erotica.

▶️ Next Story: Bad Boy (Chico Malo)

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83

@sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin @deanwinchesterswitch @freewastelandstrawberry

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420

@candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @chernayawidow @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses

[desired-misery]

I heard you guys like BOW!Leon so have some BOW!Leon doing (big) cat things | Luis POV

He catches 537 stretched out on top of its new crate, cleaning its paws. At first, Luis thinks it is a feline behavior showing from 537’s pre-mutated biology. He stops running calculations on the lab results and watches 537, fascinated that 537 is showing grooming behavior for the first time. 537’s large, barbed tongue rasps over the metal cuffs, smooths over its extended claws, over its thick hide. Luis shivers, thinking of that rough tongue running over human skin. Just like other big cats (in a more potent way), 537’s tongue is capable of removing flesh from bone. Luis has seen 537 do it, scraping clean pig ribs and wiping skulls clean of all muscle and connective tissue before 537’s teeth cracked through bone.

But then 537 keeps licking the metal cuffs. It focused on one paw to start, but then it switches to alternate between the other three. Luis notices it does not do the same to the two cuffs on its very back legs. What is it about the cuffs on its front two pairs of legs? Luis frowns as 537 keeps licking and licking. When 537 switches to using its teeth, starting to gnaw— Luis can’t take that.

Luis feels instantly, immensely guilty for slapping his hand against the one-way glass and startling 537 so bad. 537 jumps to its feet, teeth bared in a snarl, stiff on frozen legs, back arched, ears and all of its eyes locked on the point exactly where Luis is sitting even though 537 cannot possibly see him.

“Don’t hurt yourself, alright? Leave those alone. I know, I don’t like it either but that’s non-negotiable.” Luis says as if 537 can hear him, as if 537 can understand. 537’s ears swivel back and forth, listening for more. But it settles down again, not as relaxed as it was, tail twitching as it stares along the wall with the one-way glass.  Luis returns to his work. 537 takes almost half an hour to return to grooming— if that even is grooming, because 537 does not have any fur. Idly, Luis wonders if it is a relic from 537’s leopard biology scratching a mental itch after eating, evidence of established instinct filling in gaps that most BOWs don’t have. It is quiet. 537 is a very quiet BOW, not constantly growling or snarling or breathing heavily— which is why it shakes Luis from puzzling over how to interpret even more baffling lab results when 537 starts licking at the metal cuffs again.

“Hey, stop that!” Luis first taps with his fingernails to catch 537’s attention, but that isn’t loud enough. He curls his fingers into a fist and knocks the glass.

537’s head lifts, the tip of its pink tongue peeking out past terrifying black fangs. Luis has to smile. Big, scary BOW, with its tongue stuck mid-lick.

“I get it, they’re bothering you. I’ll talk to someone about those soon, okay?” Luis tells the glass. 537’s ears flick towards him. Its head dips down to lick again— Luis knocks harder. 537 ignores it.

Luis groans. “Fine, I’ll go talk to someone now.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: So as I said before I did not think that my little rambles would do so well / that anyone would even want to read them. But here is the first one on this { linked above }; not sure how I like how this pen turned out.

Part 1

Leon’s looks / Inspo for the fic:

So I have three images I’m basing his looks off of. I linked the images and accounts below. They are amazing and were very helpful in me writing these fics.

@ryo-creampuff { Plagas! Leon } starting looks

@patchwork-tag { Project Scorpion! Leon }

@polarspaz { InfectionRE AU Leon } final transformation.

You remember what Luis told you, that they weren’t able to remove the Plaga from his chest. The man promised you that he’d find a cure but that didn’t stop the BSAA from taking Leon and putting you under observation.

And then he started to change, it was the little things at first.

Dark veins forming in his arms, his hands forming into claws. You remember hearing his screams of pain as legs bursted from his back due to the plaga.

It was hard breaking him out, that was something you rather forget.

Slowly walking towards Leon, the man’s head snapped up to look at you. His once blue eyes now a deep shade of red. Fangs poking out from his lips as his head hung low.

“Leon”

A low grumble escaped his lips, the tail he had grown wrapped tightly around his waist. He was waiting for you to come closer, you knew that. The Plaga within him was effecting him more each day. Spikes forming on his back, though the physical transformations weren’t the only changes Leon went through.

The man started to see you as his mate, something that must be protected. You knew that he would never hurt you yet you couldn’t say the same to anyone that stepped close to you.

It was getting harder for him to speak but that never stopped him from showing his affection for you the best he could.

“I love you, you know that right.”

A small, satisfied grumble moved passed his lips though it sounded more of a purr as his carefully let his clawed hand pull you close to his chest. His nose nuzzled into your neck.

His fangs grazing your neck for a moment though soon you were thrown behind his back as the front door was thrown open gun drawn on Leon.

“Chris!! Stop” A cry escaped your lips as a snarl escaped Leon’s.

The former agent now on his hands and knees in a defensive position. His jaw becoming unhinged as the spikes on his back starter to flare up. You knew you had to stop this before they both killed each other.

Squeezing your eyes shut you stepped in front of Leon only to be faced with a barrel of a gun.

“Move out of the way Y/n.”

Shaking your head you took another step forward, your were terrified but you weren’t about to let him take Leon from you. “No…I’m not not gonna let you hurt him.”

“He needs to be terminated.”

“Terminated…Chris this is Leon…He’s not a monster…”

“He killed five agents!”

“Because they were trying to kill me! He was protecting me…Chris please…please just go…we’re not…he’s not hurting anyone.” You whispered as Leon crawled towards you, his head bumped your thigh. “Please.”

Glancing at you then towards Leon, Chris lowered his gun watching you both. His gaze now on Leon, his former friend still on his knees. Part of him hated to do this, to leave a unchecked B.O.W but seeing how protective he was of you.

He has to give you a chance, give Leon a chance. He couldn’t regret this. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“You won’t.” Still holding your breath, you only relax the moment Chris stepped out of the door with a small smile and goodbye.

Turning back to Leon you then dropped to your knees in-front of him. Your own smile forming on your lips as you cupped his cheeks. A purr escaping his lips as his tail wrapped around you, the tip caressing your back gently.

Keeping your head pressed against his, your thumb caressed his cheek. “We’re free Leon.”

[sonicasura]

Feral Plagas!Leon but he acts more like an energetic cat that was just given catnip. The pills used to suppress the Plagas growth alongside the miniscule inactive viruses from his previous adventures just toasts the bug's original nature. It's relationship with Leon becomes akin to Venom with the mind of a stubborn toddler.

Don't give it sweets and the guy will be bouncing around like a lunatic until you catch him on a tree covered in fresh sap. Leon arches his back like the Halloween Black Cat with his tail plus spike spines flared up if spooked. Becomes a pure chittering mess if given anything that contains honey or maple syrup. Meat honey from vulture bees is Plagas!Leon's favorite so it's best to keep stock.

Complete and total hoarder. He loves to collect stuff in this feral state akin to a bower bird. If it gets Leon's attention, then it's added to his makeshift hive like nest. Man has a few scratching posts and something very durable to chew on. Got a tendency of stealing animals like rabbits or chickens for the purpose of being pets.

Any nest Plagas!Leon makes is a mix between old clothes, bedding materials, and a unique type of saliva he can produce. The slime is very adhesive that it'll put even the strongest glues to shame. Leon's saliva has minor healing properties.

It's usually made in a web form than liquid to heavily reduce the adhesiveness and make it easier to remove. He can also make a powerful acid with the purpose of making pathways. Leon has quite a number hidden in Spain with only one not made during a feral episode.

He is absolutely embarrassed once a feral episode comes to an end as he's fully conscious for every moment. Especially since tantrums are a given in this state and he'll wreck furniture out of spite. Saddler trying to control the parasite just pisses it off instead so Plagas!Leon is even more vicious when fighting the cult.

In fact, he will even EAT the other Plagas as rage lets loose cannibalistic tendencies from its altered nature. A good chunk of insects do feed on other members of their species so don't be surprised if its true here. Leon later admits that they taste like chicken much to Ashley's disgust and Luis' morbid fascination.

Zoomies happen a lot even more so during a feral episode. His body tends to produce too much energy and Leon has to expel it. A human sized hamster wheel or hamster ball is always brought up with Ashley even thinking of a design. Leon wasn't amused.

Completely territorial especially when a huge threat such as Krauser is nearby. Half the time Feral Plagas!Leon will cut down the threat or get his 'swarm' to safety. (Leads to a Luis lives situation) Ashley and Luis are HIS, same goes for anyone else that he can trust and likes.

Feral episodes has a 50/50 chance that he'll shift into 'bug mode'. His appearance heavily morphing to an insectoid yet oddly reptilian visage. It's completely random so what comes come. Plagas!Leon still acts the same although he might carry Ashley or Luis by the scruff of their shirt with his fangs.

His abilities are heavily amplified in bug mode than just size alone. Leon's acid can melt steel than just rock, his adhesive saliva now hardens into a cocoon like shell, and any webbing produced is able to treat more extensive injuries such as 2nd degree burns. You can say he's more of a tank or sentinel from roleplaying games in this state.

Overall, the man is just relieved that he isn't going to hurt anyone innocent thanks to his new infected status. Although Leon will never tell anyone about the time he almost ate a Karen's annoying corgi. Guy's Plagas was hangry that day.

Plagas!Leon: War Mode

[rapid-as-sass-in-nation-team]

Luis Dubois sighs deeply while looking down to the table, sitting alone in the corner of a bar. He didn't drink too much, as he doesn't want to overdo it, but this bar was the closest and it sells nothing but alcohol. Even juices had alcohol in them.

"It's for the best...You're too boring.." He repeated the words that his boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, had said 2 hours ago at a party.

Luis sniffles quietly and took a very small sip of wine to calm his nerves.

Suddenly the somber silence is broken by the bar door swinging open. A muscled western styled sinner groaning in pain as he was pushed to the counter, his head being slammed into it. Revealing an pale Imp also in cowboy attire that was bending the sinners arm back behind his back painfully. His gold ringed eyes filled with satisfaction and determination as he pulled the struggling sinners arm back.

"Agh! Fucking hell, let go of my arm ya bastard!"The sinner yelled only making the Imp snicker "Not till you submit and pay up, as we agreed on for this little match~"The Imp said, his tail rattling like a snake before pulled the arm back even further. Making the sinner full on yell in pain as he used his other free to desperately tap out on the counter "Fuck! Fuck! I fucking give! You win!"They yelled out causing the Imp to grin. Revealing the gold fang just as sharp as his normal ones among them. "Damn right."The imp said smugly before pulling out the sinners wallet and taking thirty bucks from him before kneeing the sinner in the gut and throwing him over the counter. Still lightly groaning in pain from the beating as he laid on the ground as The Imp counted his earnings.

"A glass of spiked lemonade bartender. On the losers tab. As promised~"The Imp said sitting down close to Luis with a smug smirk. Tail rattling again in satisfaction as it swayed behind him.

[christian-dubuis-santini]

Il s’agit avant tout d’arrêter de répéter la langue de l’adversaire, cesser de reprendre les termes, les expressions, les mots du persécuteur…

L’analyse appliquée à la politique, comme celle du philologue, ne peut que rejoindre l'observation de l’évolution de la langue par Victor Klemperer (LTI, La langue du IIIe Reich) qui lui permet de détecter avec une acuité particulière ce qui distingue par exemple le Nazisme d'une tyrannie ordinaire ou d'une dicta­ture brutale. Il perçoit dans le détail la «différence totali­taire» du régime nazi lorsqu'il s'avère que celui-ci dispose de la faculté non seulement de maltraiter et d'abattre ses ennemis (réels ou imaginaires), mais aussi d'embourber la parole et la pensée de ses victimes dans la fange de son jargon et de sa propagande. Observateur tout à la fois horrifié et impitoyable, Klemperer évoque fréquemment ces Juifs traqués qui ne cessent de se cou­ler dans la langue du persécuteur, ces braves gens dont les manifestations de compassion véhiculent le venin de l'idéologie et font saigner le cœur de ceux auxquels elles s'adressent non moins que les violences et les insultes des bourreaux.

Reprendre la langue de l’adversaire, ne serait-ce que partiellement, c’est nourrir son discours de sens et lui donner continuité de subsIstance…