#bring back the fright song

[katethevampire]

the duality of man.

[katethevampire]

I have no energy but when I do I'm drawing this

Imagine being Draculaura and you’re at your first ever Pride Parade and you’re ducked out in bisexual pride, and right as you turn to your girlfriend Kiyomi to make a joke about how you’re like 1600 years old and yet hadn’t been to a Pride Parade before you see your ex boyfriend Kieran Valentine, who tried to steal your fucking heart, absolutely covered in rainbow flags, with this equally decked out green boy, and he turns to face you and gives the most awkward look ever, and like, what do you even do in this situation

[unmattata]

On the topic of old Bengali film music...

I’m sure I was not the only NRI Bengali kid whose mom taught a couple of songs to sing for the family when they visited Kolkata. “Akash bhora surjo tara” was my designated song.

Picture a five year old singing this in a warbly baritone in front of a crowd of amused uncles, aunties and grandparents. 

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it���”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[messylustt]

dazed but not by the blood — hobie brown. longer name. cleaning hobie’s wounds and he can’t stop touching you.

he would have climbed through your window, his face littered with small cuts, a more prominent indent running through his eyebrow. you wouldn’t hear him at first, your head nodding along to the beat of a song, blasting through your headphones. breathing a fraction heavy, hobie would notice you, legs up and bent to your body, in a wooden chair. your fingers would tap away at your computer as you softly hummed.

he would step closer, a small side smile edging his lips as he leaned closer to your covered ear. moving your headphones aside he’d whisper. “i hope that’s not that monkey band you’re listening to.” your eyes would widen as your heart would drop to your stomach in fright, swiftly spinning in the chair to face a smug looking hobie.

but your words of scolding would die off upon seeing his facial injuries. your hand would reach out, gently touching a cut making him slightly wince. “hold on.” you’d whisper, getting up off your chair as you rushed to a cupboard, retrieving a small first aid kit. you tilt your head behind you, gesturing to the couch, as you take out alcohol wipes and plasters. hobie would understand, jumping slightly down onto the couch, as his legs spread comfortably.

his head would rest back, as he’d shut his eyes for a moment. but when you’d shift closer, kneeling in front of hobie and gently grabbing his face, his eye would open. at first he’d stare at your face, taking note of all the little details he’d always thought suited you so well. you wouldn’t notice his gaze at first, focusing on a cut by his cheek as you’d dab and wipe, teeth biting down on your bottom lip. at this hobie’s gaze would dart down, his eyes taking note of the redder colour you created by your bite.

when you’d tilt your head, hobie’s gaze would follow. catching sight of your tied up hair, strands falling out randomly. “ya hair looks nice tonigh’, babe.” he’d teasingly smile, his hand subtly reaching up to touch a loose lock. you shake your head, thinking his teasing is the truth. but he meant it. you did look really good, pretty in a way that made hobie’s finger tap at his leg.

“real pretty.” you were used to his almost ‘flirty’ words. he’d always acted like this. you had thought that it’s just his personality, when in actual fact every word he had said was every bit true, to the point that his hand — right now — started to shift from rubbing your hair between the pads of his slightly calloused fingers, all the way to your neck.

he’d just lightly tap your skin, feeling your pulse beating. in all honesty you hoped he couldn’t feel it quicken. you began to shift to the deeper cut on his eyebrow. “you know, you could make this into a feature.” you say, trying to distract your mind from hobie’s wandering fingers. they had begun to draw patterns along your bare collarbone, making a small shiver run up your spine.

“hobie?”

“yeah, luv?” but his tone sounds distant, his gaze focused on the top of your chest, your skin now beginning to litter with goosebumps. you gulp, finally moving to the last cut — one that dragged down his lip. you had to shuffle closer. and as you did, hobie’s thighs widened, leaving you room to kneel between his legs.

your hand held his chin, directing his face how you needed as you dabbed his cut lip. “stop smiling. I can’t touch you up when you do that.” you say. but then you feel two large hands languidly slip around your waist, making it unintentionally arch. his cold rings dragged across your skin, making your breathing hitch. hobie noticed the sound, now purposefully slipping his hands under your shirt to slowly rub along your lower back.

“hobie.” you say, a slight warning to your tone. what was he doing? “shh, keep working.” he said. he leant further back, partially bringing you with him, as you had to lean a fraction over his body to reach his cut lip. “i don’t have to help.” you muttered, seeing hobie’s amused expression.

his hands had moved so that they slid inside your back jeans pockets. he wasn’t moving, having found the position — with you nearly draped over him — rather comfortable. “hobie.” you feel like you’ve said his name too many times, but it’s hard for you to touch him up like this. he tilted his head. “mm…so…pretty.”

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[katethevampire]

why is does this feel so personal

@ every valentine stan.valentine will literally never be drak jr. he will literally never have even a fraction of the swag this guy oozes. he will literally never achieve these levels of gender envy. he will never come CLOSE.

[goddessesofeverything]

Your Song Fills the Empty Cracks in My Bones

Skully J. Graves x GN!Reader/Yuu

Yeah...The New Guy got to me...

If you'd prefer to read it on AO3, it's there too :3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/59525989

Halloween Town was alight with fright and mischief as its denizens eagerly buzzed around preparing for their cherished holiday. As the town’s band prepared a jaunty tune to liven up the spirit, they paused seeing a certain newcomer swiftly make their way right toward them. A jittery gait to his step, they watched him as he halted just a couple feet away. 

“Esteemed musicians of Halloween Town!” Skully J. Graves greeted with a bow. He pushed his glasses back up his nose as he rose. “So sorry to trouble you in the middle of your work, but might I inquire if you happened to spot one of the lovely dears that accompanied me pass by this way?”

The musicians looked to each other, not quite sure how to answer. 

“Ah, pardon me. I meant the one usually accompanied by the small cat.”

“Ohh…” the musicians nodded in understanding then. “Your little friend went that way,” the saxophonist jabbed a thumb to the direction of the town’s entrance gate. 

“Thank you!” They curiously watch as Skully bowed again, before speeding away to the gate. Through his glove, he lightly bit his nail as he waited for the gatekeeper to let him out of town. The musicians commenced their performance after he left. 

“To think of just walking out at such a critical time,” Skully muttered. “What could they possibly be doing…!”

Skully overheard his traveling companions mention that their “Ramshackle Prefect” was nowhere to be found after completing some of their given tasks. There’s still so much to be done, though! They couldn’t just simply up and flit away when Halloween was only days away. He made it his own mission to find the Prefect and hurry them straight back. I mean, it also wouldn’t do to wander off alone, of course. 

As he made it to the graveyard by Spiral Mountain, Skully began to hear something odd carried through the wind. At first, he thought he somehow heard the musicians back in town. But, no. It sounded like someone singing. 

Lala…lalaa…lalalalala…

Was it the screaming pumpkins? As he got closer to the mountain, the bespectacled boy realized someone was standing at its peak. What were they doing…

Ah. He could hear it more clearly now. The figure on the mountain was singing. He did not hear any lyrics. The tune carried vocally—melodic and haunting. 

He could see now. The Prefect was alone, vocalizing next to the moon. 

Perfect. Now he just needed to call to them, and bring them back to town. Yet, as Skully tried to make his way to do so, something itched at him. Something was against him doing it. He watched the Prefect be completely absorbed in their own world. Their voice carried out in a soft vibrato, and produced a sweet, yet melancholic tune. It was quite beautiful. 

…It couldn’t hurt to let the Prefect finish. 

Skully didn’t consider how awkward he must look watching from below. He couldn’t really care. Not when he was enraptured by this impromptu performance. 

The Prefect’s silhouette was captured so enchantingly under the moonlight. Like a shadow on the moon taking the form of a lone, dark ghoul. Lamenting its sorrows to the piercing night. It only added to their loveliness. All the while, their voice carried through the graveyard, sharing its woes to the beyond. Skully, though, was the only one with the honor of being a living, breathing soul among them. Captured by all the Prefect gave them. 

Yet, it was over before it even began. With a final note, the Prefect had already ended their song. Skully sighed in bliss as the proverbial curtains drew to a close. But, that felt much too fast! Perhaps he could request another…

Both Skully and the Prefect were snapped out of their trance with the familiar bark of a certain ghost dog. 

Adrenaline kicked into Skully, and he dove behind a gravestone large enough to hide his tall figure. Zero whooshed past him, barking for the Prefect’s attention as he floated up the mountain. 

“Hello, Zero!” the Prefect cheerfully greeted the ghost dog. Skully peeked from behind the grave to continue watching the two. Zero was enthusiastically nuzzling into their affectionate pats. “What brings you here?”

“Bark bark!” Zero gestured his head toward the town. 

“Oh, are people looking for me?”

“Bark!” Zero nudged at the Prefect. 

“Okay, okay, boy!” They spared one last glance to the moon, before a small sigh escaped them. “Guess I gotta go back now…?” 

The Spiral Mountain unfurled itself so that the Prefect could walk down. With a kind smile, they thanked the animated mountain, and quickly made their way down the mountain. Skully shied away into the shadow of the gravestone, watching on as the Prefect followed Zero back to town. 

As the duo trotted away, Skully let out the breath he subconsciously held onto. Leaning back against the gravestone, he grasped at his chest, feeling his heart flutter in a flurry of emotions. 

Could it be…

He just emulated his beloved idol! To be captivated by the sweet, solemn music as the one who’s captured your heart serenaded you atop the Spiral Mountain…It’s just like the stories said! Skully could feel his face warm in elated joy. His hands made their way to cover his cheeks, and he lightly bounced in place like a giddy school girl. Truly, his lovely dear was a blessing—inadvertently granting him a chance at recreating such an iconic moment in his own story. Does that mean he was the esteemed Sally to the Prefect’s Pumpkin King? Or was it the other way around?

Doesn’t matter!

Rejuvenated by his self-affirmations, Skully readjusted his glasses and suit, and began a cheerful gait back to town himself. Plucking a dark rose from a lone bush on the way. He had to thank that sweet, lovely dear for the performance of a lifetime, after all. One he so gladly was a part of, whether they knew it or not. 

It must’ve simply been meant to be. 

[martiniblues]

she looks so perfect ; ellie williams

pairing gf!ellie x fem!reader

synopsis ellie comes back from a late night patrol to be greeted by you already waiting for her. luckily for her, you happen to be in a pair of her boxers.

genre so so much fluff because i’m sick and twisted, kinda suggestive but nothing explicit, mentions of food.

wc 0.8k

note this is inspired by she looks so perfect by 5SOS (aka the best song ever)

“ellie?” your voice waltzed into her ears as she stepped into your place. kicking off her beaten-up converse, smelling the sweet smell of pancakes wafting through the air.

“yeah, it’s me!” her mood instantly peaked at the sound of your voice and the soft music you decided to play as you cooked.

ellie tiptoed down the hall, wanting to observe you before you noticed her. you always called her a "creep" jokingly, of course, but she just loved watching you live in your own little world.

whether it was when you were so caught up in the book you were reading that your face would shift into the silliest expressions or when you danced softly with yourself as you got ready for the day, ellie loved it more than anything.

like right now, you stood in the center of your kitchen, mixing bowl in hand, swaying and humming along with the song that played from your phone. an oversized band tee hung loosely off your shoulder while a pair of red checkered boxers hugged your hips.

she recognized them immediately; they were the same ones she wore a few nights ago. she wondered where they had gone, but now her question was answered.

as you turned with the music, you caught sight of ellie leaning against the door frame, smirking with her arms crossed. “jesus, els you almost gave me a heart attack!” you clutched the bowl to your chest in fright. “we literally spoke thirty seconds ago,” she argued, walking behind you to wrap her arms around your waist and bury her face in your neck.

“mmmmm” she mumbled something you couldn't quite understand, feeling her lips move against your skin with each undefinable word. her cold hands ran over and under your shirt, outlining each and every curve and dip of your body. you continued swaying with the music silently, not trying to pry her into talking about her outing. you knew by the time breakfast was done, ellie would talk your ear off about the “stupid shit” jessie did or the “motherfuckers” she killed.

while one arm wrapped around your stomach and laid its palm to your side, ellie’s other hand traveled lower and closer to your hip. “and when did you get these? they look oddly familiar,” her thumb looped under the elastic band and pulled so the fabric would lightly snap against your skin, teasingly.

you flushed instantly at her words and raunchy actions. “they should be familiar since they're yours, els” you smiled. you and ellie always wore each other's clothes, an unspoken vow that the two of you were always together, even if it meant not physically.

ellie continued running her blunt nails against the fabric, dipping her curious fingers underneath the bottom to grab your ass or travel along the lace of your underwear.

“els, these are gonna burn if you keep distracting me,” you scolded her, turning around and pulling her hands off your body. “go sit, and i’ll bring you some in a sec." you punctuated your request with a kiss to her freckled cheek. in reply, she just huffed and sulked away like a grumpy child. it wasn’t a shock to you, ellie was always grumpy before the afternoon.

you plated the food for both you and ellie and practically skipped on your way to the table. you placed ellie’s plate in front of her while she played some games on her phone. before sitting, you kissed the top of her head and ruffled her auburn hair, which finally made her peel her eyes away from the game and notice the food ahead of her. “hey…” she whined, but still smiled as you sat beside her. before you could get settled, ellie reached out, grabbing your smooth calves with her rough hands to lay your legs across her thighs.

“missed me, huh?” you tilted your head at her clinginess. its not that ellie was never clingy, but typically, when she came back from a late night out, she wanted to do nothing but sleep.

“of course i missed you, my pretty girl.” she continued to stuff her mouth, rubbing your leg with her free hand.

“plus, if i would have known you’d be in this, i would have ran home.” she eyed you to emphasize her boxers, which rolled up higher on your thighs. “maybe i should just steal all your boxers, huh?” you leaned closer to her, completely disregarding the half-eaten pancake drowning in syrup on your plate.

“that sounds good,” she whispered even in the private walls of your place, grabbing your face and pulling her lips against yours. her soft strands of hair, which fell from the small knot at the back of her head, tickled your cheeks. a bloom of warmth sprouting in your chest at the feeling of her lips on yours.

ellie could be gone for an hour and when she came back, she would kiss you as if she had gone off to war for months.

you reached up to run your hands through the hair she left down that barely touched her shoulders, making her sigh contently. she pulled your chair closer to her, not breaking apart once.

before you could pounce on her, she pulled back with wide eyes. “what is it?” you grabbed her face, trying to figure out what had gotten her so bewildered. she grabbed your hand firmly and pulled it down to rest on your knee, which still lay across hers.

“i just remembered the stupidest fucking thing jessie did yesterday,” she laughed before beginning her tangent.

note this might be too niche but modern!ellie would DEFINITELY listen to 5SOS like i know she loves michael’s hair and is a sounds good feels good enthusiast!!!! she would totally learn songs on her guitar LIKEEE DO YOU SEE MY VISION!!!

[katethevampire]

Wait the next live action Monster High movie comes out in 4 days????!!??? I was focusing on other fandoms for like a month how did I miss this

[katethevampire]

gonna use this, will update once the results are in

Monster High: WTF Moments - 7/??

[evilminji]

Gold can be exchanged for goods and services (o.o )

Pariah's Keep probably has a shit ton of Precious Goods from various places.

Danny is become King?

If Danny becomes King... then the Zone will somewhat obey him. The Crown and Ring could EASILY tell him where the next natural portal is, where it opens up, and for how long. How many there are. Could probably make a few.

Probably WAS supposed to be making them. Consciously. But, well, Coma(tm).

Would probably count as Kingly Duty to filter and collect. Clean Ecto goes out for souls that remain, a Gateway home for those that wish to LEAVE, so forth and so on.

Effectively, being The Grim Reaper. You don't CAUSE Death. You just guide the way home. If folks so choose.

And that's neat! Horrifying, but neat! And Danny can TOTALLY see how it would eventually drive him completely breakfast cereal fruity nuggets! LUCKILY, he's got a vaguely bro's/Mentor thing going with the ghost who has ALL OF POSSIBLE TIME flowing through HIS head! So Danny should be Gucci!

The headaches suck though.

But WHAT... to do with all this Gold and valuable Space Goods? Most of these aren't even recognized currency on earth! Like the Shells. You could buy a mansion with one of those... on the right planet. On Earth? Pretty paperweight. Hmmmm >.>

Wait.

WAIT!

<o> *points to top of head!* CROWN! It can? Predict and make PORTALS!

Portals lead any WHERE and any WHEN!

:O

Gold... can be exchanged for goods and services. He remembers, holding a gold brick, about to eat so, SO much pizza.

But WAIT! I hear you wondering! Surely, you mean? Within his past? The history and region of space he knows, right? Ha ha :) Nope! Cowards.

Danny is on the alien otter's planet, trading those sweet, sweet Shells for some snacks no human could eat and a shawl for his sister! He's hiding, badly, behind a food stall in the Martian market place. Hoping future hero J'onn Johnes doesn't notice him.

Lying to the Space Cops, bout where his untraceable Space Money came from, on an alien trading satellite. The Green Lantern's not buying it. Oh noooo >.> sudden Fright Knight. Looming Menacingly by the loading doooocks. Everyone's upset! Definitely not related to him! Better go check on that! :) *gets the heck out of dodge* (my king. Please stop using me as a distraction.) (No promises)

But! It's all fun and games? Until your human friends get sick. Like... REALLY sick.

And then you suddenly remember time and space mean nothing to you. One 15 minute flight that way, two doors, a quick flight of stairs, and a literal child's play place slide? You could be in the 32nd century.

That disease is AT BEST, an unpleasant afternoon, there.

Here, your friend could die.

You trade a student two Spanish dubloons. They have no idea what they are. Just like the look of them and know they're real metal. They walk into the pharmacy for you. Don't question your "social experiment paper" lie.

You're back in less then an hour.

The screaming argument about ethics and mortality lasts hours.

She still takes the medicine. Gets better. Won't talk to you for months. Because why does HER life matter more? Why bend the rules for HER? And you can't bring yourself to say what pulses as Truth from both Crown and Ring.

You could because she didn't Matter. Time... would not notice, nor change. She was in no way pivotal to the flow of history, must one more ant beneath its unrelenting march. Mattering only because those who love her CARE. Because one or two little things might change for the better.

But it takes the shine off of it, a little.

Being able to go to the FUTURE. Watch movies and see aliens and humans alike in the crowd. Read books and dance to songs from people who won't be born for hundreds of years. Eat snacks from the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Or the early BCs!

And that's BEFORE other time travelers clock him as That Shopping Guy. The one who keeps popping up... buying things. For what? Unknown. Probably dinner. Half the time it's food. Trinkets. Once it was a really, REALLY nice goat. (His aunt was THRILLED.)

It probably drives Bart crazy. Because NO ONE knows anything about the guy? Everyone just universally goes "oooh yeah! HIM! Yeah, he sure does Exsist(tm). Very... present and exsistant." Like that's not CRAZY! He has so many question. So Many! What is he even BUYING!? Why? Is there an order? Or is he winging it?!

*pulls out list* he needs ANSWERS!

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

[danisbrainrot]

tell your boyfriend

natalie scatorccio x reader

warnings: cheating (sorry not sorry, travis), reader being a shitty person, angst

ever since I found out this song was actually about a woman, I don't know why, but I immediately thought of nat. I can't explain it LMFAO.

it had been weeks since the plane crashed, and the team was condemned to suffering in the wilderness. it was lucky lottie had found the cabin in the first place, but as you swung the axe high in the air, before bringing it down with a resounding crack, you started to wonder if life would've been better if you died in the crash.

you were starving, delirious and weak. there was no sign of a rescue team—who knows how long you'd have to spend out here. watching natalie and travis walking back, hand in hand, you felt yourself growl quietly to yourself. it wasn't fair that travis, who'd never talked to nat before the crash was dating her, but you—who'd loved her for years—were forced to watch from arms length. the sight wasn't made any better when you noticed the absence of meat.

everyone was teasing the two of them, causing you to storm off into the forest. you couldn't help but find everything unfair. falling for a girl who liked a boy—knowing if you were a boy, she'd love you.

kicking over a pile of leaves, you took out your anger on the forest. you hadn't even noticed natalie, until you almost pegged a rock at her (you'd meant to get the log). "oh my god, I'm sorry nat," you exclaimed, running towards her to see if she was okay.

she snorts, moving closer to you. "feeling hangry?" she teased, taking a seat on the log you were aiming at previously. you sarcastically laugh in response, taking a seat next to her.

"joke all you want, if you spent less time fucking travis and more time looking for animals, I wouldn't be destroying the forest," you snap, feeling your stomach begin growling. nat's eyebrow raised teasingly, eyes pointed at your tummy. it's timing was uncanny.

"we're not fucking," natalie replied, making your heart race in excitement. "I mean, I'd like to. . . but he can't get it up."

knowing this was your chance, you took advantage of this information. "maybe he's gay?" you reply, trying to sound as earnest as you can. you nudge her side, "no straight man could resist you," you wink at her teasingly, receiving a soft shove to your shoulder.

"I've always trusted your gaydar. . . but I don't think this is it," she mumbles in response, leaning forward and placing her chin in her hands.

there was a beat of silence, as you desperately try to come up with a plausible explanation to break them up. "you could always ask coach, I'm sure he'd know all about gays," you joke.

nat turned her head slightly to face you, "you're right. maybe I should—" your heart sank, realising that she was seriously thinking about it.

"have you thought that maybe he's interested in someone else? and you're just a distraction," you blurted out, wishing you could take it back immediately.

nat scoffed, standing up, "yeah, thanks. that makes me feel fucking fantastic," she snapped, stomping away.

"nat! I'm sorry!" you called out, but she ignored you.

«—(♥)—»

later that night, you found yourself in the storage room, with your stomach growling. you knew that mari was hiding some berries in here and you were so hungry that you no longer cared about stealing.

the sound of creaking behind you made you jump in fright, whipping around to let out some excuse when you realised it was just natalie. "oh, I thought you were mari," you mumble, turning back to continue your quest.

"looking for her secret stash?" she asked, you tried to work out if her tone was curious or teasing. "it's behind the box there."

when she pointed in the direction, you side eyed her, wondering how he knew where it was. glad that she'd shown you, you decided not to ask. you pulled out a large white bucket and hungrily opened the lid, only to be disappointed at the contents. "she's letting them ferment?"

you turn to face natalie, who shrugs, "it's not that bad. it's pretty strong though, just made purely out of berries, makes you get drunk quicker," she explains; you snort at her, shaking your head.

"you'd have a lot of experience with being drunk," you snipe.

"hilarious, you know you're so funny, you should think about joining snl," she replied sarcastically, crossing her arms over her chest.

you sighed, putting your head in your hands. "I'm so hungry, nat. I can't keep living like this," you whisper, on the verge of tears.

natalie sits down next to you, placing a hand on your thigh. "it'll be okay, I promise. travis and I are heading to a new place tomorrow, we'll find deer there, I'm sure," she soothes. you lay your head on her shoulder, playing with her hand on your thigh.

"a new place to hunt? or a new place to fuck?" you snapped.

narrowing her eyes at you, she scoffed and got up, "you know, I liked that you weren't like the others, that you never slutshamed me. . . I guess you're just like the rest of them," she replied, leaving you alone.

you knew it was stupid to take your unrequited feelings out on her, especially because she didn't owe you romantic love. however, it killed you watching her fall in love with travis—and the hunger eating you away wasn't making you a nicer person either.

tentatively scooping some of the berry juice in your hand, sipping it, when you heard mari approaching. in a panic, you'd never put something away so quickly.

«—(♥)—»

natalie trudged through the forest with travis in defeat; the gun slung over her shoulder serving as a reminder of her duty as hunter—a duty she was failing. their eyes were still peeled for any deer, hopeful for any last minute catches. however, it seemed like all the animals in the forest knew about their plans.

groaning, nat put her head in her hands and sat on the log. "this is fucking stupid," she grumbles, ignoring travis as he took a seat next to her.

"maybe we should stay put here, just for a little while," he suggests, his thigh brushing against hers. nat rested her chin against her knees and offered him a weak smile.

neither of them noticed you, hiding in the bushes, having given up scavenging for berries. they'd been gone for three hours, leaving everyone else in the cabin to search for food—and for what? it seemed no one would be eating anything. . . meat or fruit. the disappointing view of just the two of them made your stomach growl, reminding you of how long you've gone without eating something substantial.

stepping on a twig accidentally, you winced as both their heads snap in your direction. "you're following us now? disappointed to see we aren't having sex?" natalie sniped, getting up and walking towards you.

showing off your basket, you know that she wouldn't believe you even if it's true. "just hunting for berries, figured they were further out than usual," you mumble, taking a step back the closer she got.

it wasn't until you were both face to face, your chest heaving and trying to look tough, that natalie smirked. "I get it, you're hungry, but you don't have to follow us," she teased.

you rolled your eyes, "travis, can you give us a moment?" you asked, your heart racing as you come to terms with what you're about to do.

travis scoffs, looking at nat for confirmation, who only gestured for him to return to the cabin. in shock, he sent her an odd look, before standing up, and walking away silently.

natalie turned to face you again, "what did you want to talk about?"

"i wanted to apologise. you're right, I shouldn't be slutshaming you because I'm hungry. . ." you pause, wondering whether or not you should continue. desperate to tell her about your feelings, you could feel your heartbeat raising impossibly fast. "it's actually so stupid—the real reason I was mad at you."

natalie raised her eyebrows teasingly, placing her hands on her waist and smirking at you. "let me guess, the real reason is that you like me?" you stare at her stunned, "please, you don't think I know? I'm not Jackie," she laughs. you feel a blush coming across your cheeks.

sliding her thumb through your jean loops, nat pulled you closer to her, until your chest was pressed against hers. "how'd you find out?" you whisper, looking up at her in awe.

"because I may or may not feel the same about you," she mumbles, her lips inches from yours.

"what about travis?" you ask; nat shrugs in response, finally pressing her lips against yours. initially, you freeze, not kissing her back, until she gripped your waist firmly, holding you in place, encouraging you to kiss her back passionately.

wrapping your hands around her neck, natalie pulls away for a second, "I should probably tell my boyfriend," she whispers. you raise your eyebrows in shock.

"tell him what? that I'm your girlfriend now?" you teased, eliciting laughter from the blonde. she nodded, before placing her fingers under your chin and pulling you in for another kiss.

[honimello]

Instant Crush//Possum Kingdom

Stalker!Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin!Reader

Summary: He’s been watching you for so long, he can’t wait any longer. He has to have you. (Loosely inspired by the songs Instant Crush by Daft Punk ft. Julian Casablancas, and Possum Kingdom by the Toadies.)

Words: 4,955

Warnings: NSFW 18+, DLDR; Dead Dove‼️intense voyuerism, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, dubious consent/noncon, copia is an unreliable narrator, innocence kink, outcast/evil copia x popular reader slightly cliche, PiV, masturbation, severe stockholm syndrome, mention of lactation

A/N: I don’t know if I would say this is the most intense fic out there but i think it would still be good to put the dead dove do not eat warning on here lol also thought of the ministry having catacombs like halfway through the fic and now i can’t stop thinking about how cool that would be lol

——

“And we will never be alone again… Kinda counted on you being a friend, can I give it up or give it away?” // “Make up your mind, and I’ll promise you I will treat you well, my sweet angel.”

He doesn’t know how it got to this point. The Cardinal can just barely see himself in the reflection of the window pane in front of him, but how can he focus on his own practically-drooling visage when he can watch what’s on the other side of the glass?

Copia knows he shouldn’t watch, but he can’t really help it anymore. He really doesn’t know how it got to this point, watching you bent over your bed with an undeserving Brother of Sin. It would make his blood boil if he didn’t love the sight of it so much. You look so beautiful like this, ass pressed up against this rugged Brother, your sweet little face scrunched up in pleasure. Oh, if only it were him making you feel like that. He’s just glad someone’s doing it, even if it’s not him. At least he gets to watch.

Copia’s cock begins to tent his cassock just a little more as a muffled moan of yours floats through the cracked window sill. How divine, he thinks, why would such an angel spend their time in a pit of demons? This was the fourth Sibling you’d been with this week, and he just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. You’re such a sweet little thing, and they are always so dirty.

His train of thought is cut short when he realizes your big, innocent eyes are locked on his own. He can feel his heart sink all the way to his feet. You look scared. Yet, you don’t say anything to your partner, just continue to stare into his lustful, depraved gaze. He can’t quite tell what sort of expression is on your face other than shock and fear, but there’s something else indistinguishable mingled in there. It’s not until you arch your back and your eyes roll back into your skull that he knows— arousal is hot in your gaze and it’s bringing you over the edge.

It’s like watching a tsunami, or, more relevantly, an angel fall to earth. It’s breathtaking in so many different ways. He can’t help it when his cock twitches, his cassock becoming unbearably sticky. You’re just so beautiful like this, he doesn’t even need to touch himself.

Copia watches on as your partner cleans only himself up and leaves you on the bed with a halfhearted promise to return at a later date, but you couldn’t care less. How long had he been watching you now? The Cardinal tries to recall when this all started.

You were new to the Ministry but had quickly become a sort of people’s princess. Everyone loved you, especially Copia. You had enchanted him with your big eyes and sweet demeanor. Although, it was never directed towards him, he was quite used to this and hadn’t expected any sort of kindness from you. He knew he didn’t deserve it. He had spent his whole life manipulating and fighting his way to where he was now, but soon he wouldn’t be just a Cardinal anymore.

People knew to tread carefully with him, they thought him disgusting and frightful. A part of him was glad for this, it made his job easier. There was a reason everyone called him the Rat and it wasn’t because of his defined nose. If someone were in his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to ruin their lives to come out on top. He’s a liar, a snitch, a traitor, a backstabber, a Brutus, a Judas, if you will.

Ah, yes. Now he remembers. It was fall, he had just finished teaching his Latin class. He was locking up the class room, the night sky shining down on him from a nearby window. A chill ran through his spine. He could hear you, you’re short heels clicked on the linoleum in a strange and specific way that was unique to you. He had been casually watching you in the past week of you being there, any time he found himself in your presence he couldn’t look away.

And here you were, you had stopped in your tracks the second you noticed him. He could practically smell the fear on you, so as he turned to face you, he tried to keep a neutral expression. Even then he knew he didn’t want to scare you, not like how he scares the others. No, he wanted to scare you in a different way. A way that makes you clench your thighs together and beg for release.

“Hello, Sorella.” He said, watching you carefully. You were stiff, like maybe just the sight of him alone had turned you into a statue. He looked off to the side, where he presumed you were heading to. “Ah, on your way to my fratello, eh?”

Terzo’s office was just down the hall from his, and of course a beautiful Sister of Sin like you would visit him late into the night. He saw you fidget where you stood, you stared at your shoes in fear of meeting his eyes. Your voice came out wavering and hushed.

“N-no, il mio Cardinalé. I was on my way to see you.” Your voice was so soft he almost thought he misheard you for a second, but no, oh no, he hadn’t. Now he’s nervous. What could you possibly want to do with him? He was afraid if he thought too much about it he might pitch a tent in his very revealing, tight pants. Seemingly, to spare him, you continued. “Sister Imperator gave me some paperwork she meant to give you in the meeting this morning. She said it was important.”

You held out the stack of papers with a shaking hand, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing his gloved fingers against yours as he took it from you. Your eyes were so wide, staring up at him with such fear and reverence. And even after he thanked you and you had walked away, he stood in the hallway dreaming of that look.

Yes, this was when he had started following you. From this point on he couldn’t stand it when you were out of his sight, he had to know where you were and who was giving you the pleasure you deserved. So, as he snapped out of his daydream in the hall, he stalked off into the Ministry corridors.

The Cardinal did his best to stay quiet as he caught glimpses of you turning corners and weaving in between the Ministry’s ornate marble pillars. He followed you into the dorm wing, hesitating just around the corner so he could take note of which door you entered. The butterflies in his belly became more and more present as he realized just how lucky he was. Your room was at the very end of the hall, directly next to an exit, and he knew for a fact that there was a window peering into your room.

He exited the wing, and came face to face with what would soon become a sort of second home to him. A bench directly under the window to your room. Copia cupped his hands around his eyes as he pressed his forehead into the window, trying his best to see into the room with how dark it was. A breeze racked its way through his body, but he warmed up fast when he saw you exit from your bathroom.

Steam spilled from the little room, you had started a shower. His heart began to race, you were grabbing a robe from your dresser. Were you about to?— Oh, yes. Yes, you were. You had pulled your habit right over your head after removing your wimple, the vision in front of him could only be likened to holiness. A beautiful angel, clad in dark lace and nylon. You bent forward, presenting your full ass to him, you rolled down your stockings and pulled them off your legs.

The mirror on your dresser gave him the perfect view of your front as well. It sent a jolt of terror through him though, when he had noticed the window reflected perfectly in the mirror, but it seemed your curtains hid him from view. He heaved a sigh, watching as your hands skimmed over your tits, plucking each bra strap and letting them snap back against your skin. He could see the little flinch you made each time you did it, it had him twitching in his pants.

Finally, you slid the straps off your shoulders and reached behind you to unlatch the bra entirely. It fell to the floor unceremoniously, giving him a full view of your chest. And what a view it was, his hand skimmed its way down to his crotch, palming at his hot erection. Your breasts were soft and caught the beautiful glow of the candle on your dresser like an oil painting.

He didn’t have much time to admire you before your hands made their way down to your panties, playing with the band resting on your full hips. You slid them down your legs, bending over once more. Your cunt was slick and glistening in the candlelight. He started to drool. He hadn’t felt lust like this in quite some time, his work had taken the forefront of his attention. But now? You were the only thing he could think of, work wasn’t even a thought anymore.

You slinked off into the bathroom, finished undressing, and he wondered if you would touch yourself in the shower. He wished there was a window in there too.

That night, as he lay in his bed, wet cock in hand, he imagined what it would be like to touch you, to shower with you.

And even as he sits outside your window now, he still wonders what it would be like to give you the pleasure he so desperately wants to give you. Watching you with your little toys and your inconsistent partners can only satiate him so much.

You lay in your bed, covers pulled all the way up to your nose, still staring at him. You look so enticing. He’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself anymore. A couple weeks ago he had found a way to unlock the window from the outside. He had taken his fair share of your dirty panties from your hamper, and now… Now he wanted to take something else.

His lithe hand creeps down to where he knows the window is cracked open, the latch never quite closed fully, and if he could wiggle his finger underneath he could push the latch off completely. So, he did. The expression on your face makes him hard again, the squish of the cum staining his cassock is barely a thought to him with how strained his cock is once more. He sees tears well up against your long eyelashes.

He starts to shush you, trying to comfort you as he slowly slides the window up. He bends his head down, and slinks into your room. Soon, Copia is standing next to your bed. You haven’t moved an inch, though the tears have slid down your plump cheeks. He doesn’t know what to say, he wants you to feel better. He wants you to come back with him to his chambers. He wants you all to himself.

Only now does he realize he’s said this aloud. This snaps you out of your paralysis and you lunge for the door to your dorm. He’s much bigger than you though, and he’s caught you within seconds of your attempt. He presses your naked body close to him, you try to claw at his arms and scream but his thick hand has clamped over your mouth.

“Shh, shh, angioletto mio… You don’t need your little playthings anymore, bravetta, you have me now.” He presses his lips against your ear and whispers to you, pressing sporadic little kisses to the shell of your ear in between his words. “Shh, shh…”

Copia rubs his face into your soft hair, his voice rumbling like a cat. You continue to try and wiggle your way out, but he just slowly pulls you down to the ground, arms encasing your entire upper torso in a tight grip. He’s finally caught you and he’s not letting you go.

He continues to shush you, his voice a mix of comforting and terrifying. He gently presses you down into the floor, your body now lain flat, face pressed into the ground.

“Don’t move, little one. Your Cardinalé needs to do something.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach at the insinuation, but thankfully, he steps away from you and walks over to your dresser. You think of making another break for the door, but you know he would just catch you again so you decide to play the obedient role for now. He appreciates this as he pulls two long, thick ribbons from your dresser drawer. He had seen you play with another Sibling with these before and he had fantasized about them since.

Now, he can finally use them on you, like he has a wanted for quite some time now. He stalks back over to your body, straddling your hips and trying not to think of how good it feels for your plush ass to be pressed up against his balls. His fingers wrap around each of your wrists and he binds you with the red ribbon. It’s tight and inescapable. He moves down your legs and does the same with your ankles.

As he goes to stand above you, your little voice stops him in his tracks.

“C-Cardinalé?” Oh, the waver in your voice makes him feral. He’s so glad he could give you such a beautiful tremor. He hopes he’s riling you up just as much as you are to him.

“Sí, bravetta?”

“…”

You squirm under him, the sight of your breasts squished up against the floor is driving him insane. What soft nipples, he thinks, if only I had the time to worship them now. He nudges your hip with the tip of his dress shoe, urging you to continue as he’s sure he only has so much time to get you back to his chambers.

“I-I’m so scared, il mio Cardinalé.” Copia kneels back down, carding his fingers through your hair as he presses up against you once again. He gently lays kisses on your shoulder, his mustache tickling your skin.

“Oh, piccolo angialetto mio, there’s no need to be afraid. Shh, just relax now…” His hand rustles around in his cassock for a few seconds, making your blood run cold, but he pulls out a thick leather strap and fastens it against your mouth, effectively muffling any sound that may come out.

He pulls you off the floor, and carries you bridal style out of your room and through the exit he knew so well.

The entrance to the Ministry’s catacombs was a little bit into the edge of the woods near the gardens, not far from where your room had been. Sister Imperator had given him the long-abandoned chamber within the catacombs when he had become a bishop. The last tenant used to care for the burial sights down there, but after his death the entirety of the catacombs has been left untouched.

Sister had offered Copia an upgrade within the upper clergy chamber hall but he had declined, he’s grown fond of the stench of death.

So, as he pushes the large wooden doors open with his back, he encourages you to close your eyes. Many of the coffins and effigies were open or broken apart, and he would hate for you to see something so grotesque. He wants you calm and comfortable down here.

He traverses the old stone steps down into the ground, the old torches had been updated to be electric, the fuzzy warm light has always looked so cozy to him. Even as it reflects off the cold, stone walls. His chambers are down a few more twists and turns, you try to memorize them but it quickly becomes hard to remember. It dawns on you that maybe only the Cardinal knows how to traverse these caverns.

Copia comes at a stop in front of a large, heavy door, he sets you down gently on the freezing stone floor to unlock it with a skeleton key. He pushes it open far enough that he can carry you through safely.

There’s a large, extravagant bed in the middle of the room. All the furniture in the room seems to be Victorian, and of the same set. It looks much more comfortable than the rest of the catacombs. He strides over to the bed and lays you down on the soft covers, turning back to the door to lock it.

Copia watches as your chest rises and falls rapidly, the realization that you’re completely alone with him now dawns on you both. You’re trapped, he could do whatever he wanted now. He could do everything he’s dreamed of. But first, he has to make sure you really can’t escape. He had bought a collar and leash quite some time ago when he had first had the idea to bring you here.

The sight of it makes you wail, though the sound is muffled by leather. As he leans forward to fasten the collar, you try to scoot away but it’s not enough. He has you collared within the next second, and he slides his fingers down the chain leash, pulling it up to the bed post closest to you. He wraps it around the post and locks it in place.

“Hm… There. How does that feel, piccolo angialetto mio?” He unties the leather strap from your mouth, letting all the little gasping sounds you’ve been making float through the still air of his chambers.

“P-please, please, Cardinalé, please, let me go.” You beg, hyperventilating and whimpering. He’s a little disappointed in you, such a sweet, obedient thing and yet you can’t answer a simple question? Maybe he needs to ask it again.

His gloved hand sidles up against your throat. He gives it an experimental little squeeze making your eyes widen in fear. His gaze is like looking into the sun: wide, bright, and burning. He never looks away for a second.

“I said. How. Does. It. Feel?”

You know you have to answer him.

“I-it…It’s okay, Cardinalé… It doesn’t hurt.” You pray to Lucifer that that’s what he wants to hear. It seems it is, as his hand loosens its grip and slowly, softly, slides down your clavicle and ghosts over your breasts. His eyes are wild and deranged, you can see spit gathering against his bottom lip as he ogles your chest. His fingertip traces the shape of your breast, then comes back up to gently rub your nipple. Guilt and shame burns in your belly as a little involuntary moan escapes your throat.

His eyes snap up to yours… He liked that. You can see the urgency in his face, he wants you to do it again. His fingers circle your nipple once more, and it’s so sensitive. Your cunt isn’t on your side, it’s slick and aching. You bite your lip to hold back any other sound that may sneak out. It seems he likes this just as much.

Copia leans even closer to you, his lips ghosting over the skin of your tit. His mustache tickles as he hovers just over your stiff nipple. The tip of his tongue inches out, grazing against your areola. His spit is hot and dries cold, making you shiver in the warm light of his chambers. What is wrong with you? How could you possibly be turned on by this right now?

You had noticed how he was always around, always hanging on your every word even if they weren’t being said to him. You had wondered if he truly was watching you, and tonight you had finally seen him. But it didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it had driven you mad. The sight of him drooling and humping the air as he watched you getting railed, it had done things to you. It made the cock in your pussy almost redundant as you spasmed and creamed all over it.

The thought of having Copia’s cock to cum on flashes in your mind, doing nothing to stop you from giving in to him. His mismatched eyes look up at you reverently, he starts to suck gently on your tit, letting out little whimpers and moans as he does so. His hand trails down your belly, on a certain path to your flushed and pulsing clit.

Any effort to refuse him has gone out the window, you have no idea how long you’re going to be here with him. It would do you no good to pretend you don’t like it as much as he does. Moans spill from your lips as his gloved fingertip gently presses against your clit. He draws little circles on the hot bud, making it twitch and pulse. You whisper his name in poorly contained ecstasy.

He shushes you once more in a placating gesture, his hot tongue laving over your nipple. You’ve had many partners over the years, but none of them felt like this. His hot mouth is what you imagine Hell must be like for the most devout of Satanists.

He continues his ministrations, vaguely wondering if he could get you to lactate if he treats your teat kind enough. He trails his tongue over to your other nipple to give it some much needed attention, and his cock jumps when you let out an airy gasp, your bound arms twitching in place. He suddenly realizes then that you’re still tied up at the wrists and ankles and a wave a guilt washes over him.

“Oh, piccolina, I’m sorry. Let me free you.” He pulls his mouth away from your tit, making you whine in protest. He sneaks his hand under your body, untying the ribbon as fast as he can and turning down to your ankles to untie that ribbon as well. It feels good to spread your arms out next to you and let your legs fall open for your Cardinal.

“What a beautiful girl.” He whispers in praise, his hand sliding back in between your legs. Your fingers toy with the grucifix hanging from his chest as he plays with your clit once more, suddenly it doesn’t feel so fair that you’re naked and he’s not.

“Copia?” You whisper breathlessly, catching his attention immediately. He mindlessly rubs your clit as he faces you with a quizzical expression.

“Sí, bravetta?” His voice has grown husky and his right pupil is blown wide while the other stays the same as it always does. He looks worried, like he’s done something wrong which feels morbidly ironic to you and you can’t help but let out a quiet giggle.

“Will you undress, il mio Cardinalé? I want to see you.” Your desperate voice betrays your neediness, and he looks almost smug at how well he’s riled you up. He barely has any room in his head for any insecure thoughts that crop up, his only thought being to make you happy. So, he pulls his hand away once more, though to start unbuttoning his cassock now.

He gets it about midway to his belly before he starts to pull it off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. What greets you is freckled shoulders and hairy pecs hidden by a white tank top, and his signature tight, red pants.

His cock looks huge straining against the fabric, it makes your mouth water in anticipation. There’s a little wet spot where you assume the tip is, and it somehow makes you even slicker than before. His nimble fingers start to undo his pants, pulling out the tucked in tank top and tossing it over his head. With his pants fully unbuttoned, he takes a glance at you and sees that you’re transfixed. It looks as if you’ve been put under a spell, watching intently as he fumbles around to try and pull his pants down and off his legs.

His dick is even more pronounced in the tight black briefs he wears, it looks about as thick as your wrist and as long as your belly button to your clit. He looks at you hesitantly, like he’s not sure if you truly want to see all of him but there’s nothing more you want in this moment, not even escape.

He pulls the gloves off his hands, finger by finger, drawing it out as much as possible. Just so he can drink in the desperate look on your face, he knows he won’t have much resolve to tease you once it starts. His newly bare fingers slip down his pudgy, fuzzy belly and hook under the band of his briefs. He strains the band and lets it snap against his skin like he’d seen you do with your bra straps, and he watches intently as you let little gasps out each time he does it.

Copia pulls the band down, revealing his bush with every slow inch. The sight of the base of his cock takes your breath away, and soon enough the entire thing has flopped out and smacked against his belly. It’s monstrous. You want it like nothing else. It suits him.

He crawls over you and straddles you then pulls your legs around his hips, letting the tip of his flushed cock rest ever so gently against your throbbing clit. You whine and squirm, gripping the covers below you and he tuts gently.

“Patience, piccolina.” He warns, but both of you know there’s no real danger behind it. This is better than anything he could’ve imagined, why would he get upset with you for being just as eager as he is?

His cock catches against your aching hole as he tries to rub your clit with it and it makes you both gasp. He lets out a drawn out moan as the tip pushes gently against your cunt, it pops and slides in about an inch and he can’t seem to catch his breath. It’s been so long it feels like it’s the first time, and maybe it should be because no one has ever been like you. Sí, he thinks, this’ll be my new first time.

Just his tip sits nestled in your heat and it starts to make you feel fuzzy and needy, you start to whisper incoherent pleas. He knows what you need but he needs to take this in just for a few seconds longer, so he brings his thumb up to rub against your clit. You’re both moaning like desperate whores, and he can’t help the whimpers that fall from his lips whenever he feels you clench down on him.

He starts to slide in further, you’re so wet it feels like there’s no resistance at all. It feels like home to him, like this is where he really belongs. Here with you, in you and around you. He falls forward to rest on his elbows above you. His hips start to rock gently against you, pushing in further and further with each thrust.

“I-I love you, angialetto mio.” He whispers against your lips, pressing kiss after kiss on them. “I have loved you for so long.”

“I know, Cardinalé… Mmm, yes, just like that.” You groan as the head of his cock starts to nudge against that spot inside of you, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. “I-I… Oh, Copia, I love you too.”

You don’t know what’s come over you. You’re not in the right headspace, you never would’ve said that before. But maybe that’s okay, you think, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. You pull him closer, pressing your chests together and kissing him deeper. His tongue asks entrance into your mouth and you let it, you explore each others tongues as he fucks into you faster.

The sound of your wet bodies slapping against each other and the moans let out between breaths is the only thing that can be heard in the chambers, and as he continues to pick up speed and depth it feels like you just might scream. He’s hitting all the right places, rubbing all the right spots and your eyes roll back into your head. His face is scrunched up in concentration and pleasure, his sweat dripping down onto your own sweaty skin.

“Oh, bravetta, I’m so close.” He whimpers pathetically and he brings his hand back down to rub tight circles on your clit once more, aiming to push you over the edge with him.

“Yes! Yes! Copia, please!” You’re almost there too, your breathing is short and fast as your heart thumps in your chest, your clit throbbing. His thumb nudges the very tip of your clit and that’s what does it. It feels like molten lava has spilled over you from your head to your toes as he grunts loud and jerks his hips forward once, twice, and a third final time as he unloads deep inside you. Your walls spasm around his thick cock in ecstasy and soon enough the reality of the situation starts to set in.

You don’t know how long you lay there silently gazing off but when you come back, Copia has cleaned you both up and wrapped you up in the covers. He is gazing at you lovingly and it makes you sick to your stomach. There’s no getting out of here is there?

You wait til he falls asleep to cry.

“Now I thought about what I wanna say, but I never really know where to go. So, I chained myself to a friend.” // “Give it up to me, give it up to me. Do you wanna be my angel?”

——

[katethevampire]

I LOVE THIS ART SO MUCH FSSJKEJQGASKF-

[gumballavocadoharry]

Stage fright:

The arena buzzed with an electric energy as the lights dimmed, and the audience fell into a roar of applause. Those screams echoed through the air, a tidal wave of excitement palpable enough to send prickles down Harry's spine. He stood backstage, heart racing with anticipation, his mind flickering between the music he would soon bring to life and the love that anchored him-Yn, being that gentle passion.

Yn was a gentle presence, always supportive and ever-constant. She stood just off to the side, a serene smile on her face, her eyes shining brightly as they locked onto his. The warmth of her gaze wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, grounding him amid the sea of lights and sounds. She was not just a girlfriend; she was his muse, the heartbeat to which his songs danced.

As the spotlight pierced through the darkness, illuminating him like a beacon, Harry swept onto the stage with a gracious smile. The crowd erupted in approval, a symphony of cheers harmonizing with the first notes of his song. Each lyric flowed from him effortlessly, a tapestry woven from emotion, experience, and love. Yn's presence made every note feel significant; he barely noticed the masses—his world narrowed down to the two of them.

But then, as he reached the bridge of his final song, a sudden rustle at the edge of the stage caught his attention. A figure—a fan—scrambled up the side of the platform, pushing through guards who instinctively reacted too late. Panic washed across Harry's features before confusion transformed into alarm. The fan lunged, eyes wild, mouth set in a furious snarl, and in an instant, everything shifted.

Time stood still as the fan reached him, hands wildly grasping at his clothes, fingers clawing at his skin. Unprepared and unsettled, Harry felt an overwhelming rush of fear envelop him. Shouts erupted, the music stopped abruptly, and chaos spilled onto the stage as security swarmed the intruder, pulling the assailant away. All Harry could hear was the pounding of his heart and the disembodied echoes of the audience's shock.

Yn rushed forward, her face paled with horror, as she squeezed through the cluster of bewildered security. Her voice was a tremor, driven by concern as she called out to him. “Harry! Are you okay?”

But Harry was rooted to the spot, the world around him blurring, the colors draining from the lights until they felt dim. Memories flashed back, uninvited and relentless—past performances, moments of vulnerability shared under the spotlight, the warmth of her hand in his as he delivered heartfelt lyrics. But the pressing reality now was tainted, distorted by the grim reminder of fragility.

Days turned into weeks, and the once-flourishing light of Harry’s career began to dim. While the world had moved on, applauding other performers and celebrating new talents, Harry found himself ensnared by an invisible web of fear. He couldn’t just return to the stage; the thought of it twisted his insides, filled him with an unspeakable dread.

Yn remained by his side, unwavering in her support. In the evenings, he would sit in silence, and she would curl up beside him, her warmth enveloping him. She would share stories of their shared adventures, reading passages from his favorite novels—a gentle reminder of the world he once loved.

“Do you remember that little café we found in Europe?” she’d ask, her tone light and inviting. “You ordered that bizarre pastry...”

“A cronut,” he replied softly, willing himself to smile. “You insisted it was life-changing.”

Her laughter filled the room, a melodic sound that bounced around their small apartment. “It turned out to be just a fancy doughnut, but we made a great memory, didn’t we?”

Yet, every charming story only deepened his conviction that he wasn’t the man he once was—the artist who bared his soul to thousands. The memories felt bittersweet. As he stared at his guitar, collecting dust in the corner, the weight of unfulfilled promise bore down on him heavily.

The first time he attempted to step back into the spotlight was a disaster. Muffled cheers echoed through the venue, but to him, all he noticed were shadows creeping in. The spotlight felt like a noose; the stage, a prison. Heart pounding, he was swallowed by memories of that fateful night. He fled before the song even began, leaving a puzzled audience behind.

Feeling defeated, he sat with Yn after that night, the silence thick like fog. She nestled beside him, her head resting softly against his shoulder. “You don’t have to rush it, love," she whispered, breaking through the weight of despair. “Take your time. We’ll find a way together.”

“It feels like I’ve lost myself,” Harry confessed, his voice trembling. “I can’t even think about singing. It terrifies me.”

Yn encircled him tightly, her warmth soothing the shards of fear within him. “You’re still you, Harry, no matter what happened. You were made to sing. Just take small steps. I’m here. I’ll always be here, supporting you.”

In the weeks that followed, they embarked on a journey of rediscovery. Together, they revisited small, intimate venues where the stakes were lower, where the audience could almost be forgotten. Here, as Harry sang for just a handful of patrons, he began to feel the rhythm return. With each note, he slowly knitted the torn edges of his psyche back together.

One evening, after a particularly moving set that felt like a breakthrough, Harry found himself standing off-stage, emotions surging. Looking into Yn’s eyes, he was met with a tenderness that fueled his resolve.

“Do you think I’m getting closer?” he asked, breathless with hope.

Her eyes sparkled with pride. “You lit that room up tonight, Harry. Just keep going. One step at a time.”

Finally, months later, he stood at the threshold of the main stage he had once known, the roar of the crowd resonating around him. Clutching his guitar, he could hear the supportive shouts urging him forward. With a determined heart, he began to walk toward the bright light, knowing that while he might occasionally falter, he wouldn't have to face it alone.

Yn, always beside him, infused his spirit with patience and love. With each note he played that night, he began to reclaim who he was—a singer, a lover, and a soul who had bravely confronted his demons. Together, they would continue embracing the music and the warmth they found within each other, a melody echoing through the threads of their lives.

[igotanidea]

Cold weather: Aaron Hotchner x reader

Christmas bingo day 14 : cold weather

~Oh, the weather outside is frightful…~

“Turn it down.”

“Well, it’s not like the song has nothing to do with reality-“ Y/N retorted not really listening to Hotch’s command “it is particularly cold weather today.”

The words she used were quite an understatement. When the BAU team (strengthen by the fellow DA in the person of Y/N) left for yet another field action, there was no premonition of the upcoming blizzard and the temperature drop. Currently, it was hard to drive due to the heavy snowfall, but neither Y/N nor Derek seemed to be bothered by it. Maybe it was because they were both the passengers, but seemingly nothing could destroy their Christmas spirit, not even an unhinged killer on the loose. Obviously they were professional, as always, but their humour and attitude were something the chief of the unit were struggling to put up with, leaving him wondering why did he even choose those two to come with in the first place.  

“Turn it down.” This time it was far more stern, even for Aaron.

“Are you a Grinch now, Hotch?” Morgan grinned from the back seat, earning nothing more than a single grunt from his boss and turning the radio off. “Come on!”

“We’re at work.”

“So what?” Derek whined “working as the profiler does not come along with being gloomy during Christmas time-“

“Morgan!” Y/N felt the need to intervene upon noticing slight, almost untraceable frown on Hotch’s face “enough.” 

“Oh, so you’re siding with the boss now, Y/N?” the fellow agent leaned forward from behind the seat “Just so you know, sunshine, that’s treason.”

“He’s not my boss. I’m independent of FBI And what you just said is a slander. Pretty sure is punishable.”

“don’t give me the DA talk, Y/N. Besides-” her friend’s smile only grew wider as he moved to whisper in her ear “are you sure you are not biased because of someone’s presence?”

“Enough. Both of you.” Hotch silenced them way more effectively by pulling off the car, showing his discomfort with the subject of the conversation. Of course he knew, he was a profiler for god’s sake. “We’re here.”

Three other cars were already parked nearby and the rest of the team were waiting Obviously, the crime scene was the open area and they were going to investigate and look for clues during a snowstorm, in the cold, and almost in the dark.

“Tell me again, whose idea was it to come here right away? There is no chance we are going to find anything.” Morgan almost rolled his eyes at the nonsense of the action.

“Not with that attitude, Morgan.” Hotch muttered growlingly, turning up the collar of his coat “You could have stayed at the precinct if you’re just going to complain.”

“Can I still get back there?”

��Guys! Come and see this!” the only excited person present, Spencer, called from the side of the trees, already invested in the searching, standing knee-deep in the snow inspecting something that might have been a trace as well as some irrelevant dust brought by the wind.

“What you got there, kiddo?” Morgan almost instantly moved toward the direction from with Spencer’s voice was coming. He was surprisingly protective of the young doctor. Added value, that he finally left Y/N and the BAU boss alone.

“Cold?” Hotch asked

“What? Cold? Me? No. Not really. Not at all.” She shivered from an icy gust of wind.

“You’re shaking.”

“Am I? Really? Didn’t notice.” sticking hands in her pockets did not bring the intended effect at all.

“Maybe you should be the one heading back instead of Morgan?”

“No way! It’s my job to-“

“You’re the DA. There’s no body here. You’re useless here.”

Oh. Oh damn, that hurt.

“Useless?” she frowned feeling her cheeks flustering from the sudden rush of emotions, unable to hide it “Well I;m pretty sure if you keep dragging your team through the frozen lake in search for clues we will have a corpse in no time.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow.

“Wonder who will be useless then.” She scoffed and walked past him to join the rest of the BAU. However, she didn’t get far when a sudden grip on her hand made her stop in her tracks.

“You’re wasting time.” Hotch pointed out roughly, pulling her along, sticking her gloveless hand in the pocket of his  coat, entwining their fingers, effectively hiding the fact from the view.

***

“What got into your head?” he was fuming an hour later, his fiery gaze focused on her shaking silhouette covered by the thickest blanket they could find at the provincial precinct, sitting next to the radiator with the steaming cup of chamomile tea in her hands. “If you were my subordinate-“

“Good thing I am not then, agent Hotchner.” She cut him off with a mocking, teasing look.“Proved my point. Both of them, actually.” Yes, jumping to save Spencer, who turned out to be an unfortunate person under whom the ice broke, may not have been rational, but it was certainly heroic. “we almost had another body. And hey, guess I am not useless after all.”

 “We’ll see. But I might see some potential to keep you around.” Maybe it was an optic illusion but it seemed like the left corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

“For work?” she smirked

“Yes.”

That piercing gaze were getting a little bit uncomfortable so just to cover for the additional shaking of her hands (not from the cold) she took a sip of her drink.

“L/N?”

“Hm?”

“You should use more hand cream. Your skin is scabrous.”

What the hell was he hinting at?!  

@somest1