#but they still tend to get messy and covered in blood

[melonisopod]

Only exception I can think of is N. Corp Rodion who doesn’t appear to be wearing makeup (she doesn’t have her pink eyeshadow for one).

Girl picked a look and stuck with it.

funny how rodya has the least variation across her ids/ego out of all the sinners. she keeps the same hairstyle, makeup, and sometimes even the same necklace. the girl that wants to stand out doesn't even stand out against her alternate selves.

[hysteria-things]

I also have another idea (if ur comfortable) where like chris is ghost face and reader doesnt know but like she kinda catches him coming home after killing? idk then they like have sex IDKK JS PLEASE HAVE GHOST FACE CHRIS SEX PLS.

GHOSTFACE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you uncover your boyfriend’s deepest darkest secret…

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY, swearing, mentions killing, anxiety, blood, arguing (?), chasing, oral (female receiving), degradation, hair pulling, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,479

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: for pookie @imwetforyourmom :)

i hope it’s okay that he’s not in the mask when it’s happening but it’ll make sense when you read i promise😭

i’m brewing up A LOT right now i’m so stoked.

chris wasn’t next to you when you woke up, but you’re not surprised. he and his brothers tend to do things late at night because of their work, which makes sense because all three of them are night owls. you, however, are not.

on this particular night, you felt quenched. you get up from under the covers and walk your way to the kitchen in your shared house with your boyfriend. you grab a bottle out of the fridge and start drinking it, then your eyes land on chris’ backpack that’s next to the couch.

he always brings that with him, so he either just got home or forgot it. you shrug and continue to down the cold water, but then you hear the water start running in the bathroom.

you nod your head, taking a mental note that he did indeed just come home. as you start to walk back into the bedroom, a shine of white glistens from the moonlight. you turn your head to it and see that it’s coming from chris’ bag. it’s open ever so slightly.

curiosity gets the best of you, and you kneel to unzip it fully. your breath catches in your throat.

there have been murders happening in towns around you, but you never thought about them because the town you’re living in is very keen on security. you felt safe here.

the news calls the culprit ghostface because of the mask they wear, and that stupid mask does tend to creep you out every time you see it. the way it’s droopy just never sat right with you.

that so-called stupid mask is staring back at you, some blood is still left on it. you can’t help but stare at it, your breathing quickens the more you do so. you have to be dreaming, right?

but you know you aren’t. you grip the mask and march your way to the bathroom, not bothering to knock. instead, you burst through the door. you gasp at the sight in front of you.

chris is standing at the sink, dressed in all black as blood coats his hands and cheeks. it must’ve seeped through the outfit. his hair is messy, his eyes glancing down at the mask in your hand. thinking he’d be mad that you went through his stuff, you stay silent, waiting for an explanation. he smirks instead.

“is this some sick fucking joke?” you scream, gripping the object in your hand even tighter. you can’t fathom what’s happening right now.

“hi, ma.” he greets, turning the water off and walking to you to kiss you on the cheek. “you’re up late.” he carelessly takes the mask from you and walks out into the living room.

you snarl. he’s always been a cocky mother fucker.

out of rage, you go charging at him. “what the fuck, chris?” you say as you push him. he doesn’t go far though since he’s much stronger than you.

he chuckles and turns to you. is it fucked up that seeing him like this makes you more attracted to him?

you shake the thought out of your mind. stupid y/n. what’s wrong with you?

“what… the fuck?” you repeat, this time breathing heavier. tears start to trickle in your eyes. “i can explain.” he says.

you flare your nostrils at him, silently telling him to continue. your boyfriend of a year and a half has been lying to you, and you want an answer now. “i’m not the only one, you know. nick makes the calls, i do the killing, and matt deals with the bodies.”

you pity laugh. “this is crazy.” you run your fingers through your hair. what you feel right now is complicated. yeah, you’re scared, but not of him.

“i didn’t think it was important to tell you.” he continues. “we’ve been perfectly fine without you knowing.”

he cannot be serious.

“you didn’t think it was important to tell me?” you laugh again. “you’re fucking insane.”

you run for the front door and open it, speed walking down the porch steps. “where are you going?” chris calls out.

“anywhere. you are fucking crazy, chris.” you have no other words to say except something along the lines of that.

you hear his footsteps start to follow you, and this time you bolt it. “y/n, seriously? come back!”

the rookie mistake you made was running into the woods that are across from your house. you weren’t thinking, you just needed to run.

you don’t know where you are as you keep running, becoming out of breath from running for so long. arms wrap around your waist and twirl you around. you squeal, clawing at their arms and hands. “get off me!” you kick behind you.

“y/n, relax.” chris says, dodging your hits as you try to squirm free of his grasp. eventually, you stop fighting and let him hold you.

he turns you around so you can face him. “do you think i’d ever hurt you?” he asks.

you shake your head because it’s true. it’s not like you don’t love him anymore. you still do. “but how—”

“shh.” he shushes, taking his red-tinted hands and cupping your face with them to pull you into a kiss.

he leaves a kiss on your jaw before turning you around, your front side leaning on a tree. he takes his pointer finger and reaches under your nightgown. he smirks when he’s greeted with your bare core. “no underwear?” he teases.

you whine, pushing back on his finger. your pussy is aching for more touch. he kneels, getting a full view of your glistening folds. you gasp when you feel his tongue start lapping slowly.

he’s going painfully slow, so you whine and grind your hips back. he gets the memo and works his tongue faster, your hips still grinding to match the direction he’s going for more pleasure.

when his nose starts to touch your clit, you moan out a swear. chris starts sucking when he finds the right spot. you grip the bark of the tree and throw your head back. “right there, chris. fuck.”

your legs start to twitch when your orgasm rips through you, spreading your juices all over his tongue. he continues licking until there’s no cum left, and you whimper at the sensitivity.

you hear him unbuckle his jeans. they plop at his ankles, and he scrunches your nightgown to the small of your back and holds it there with one hand.

he moves your hair to the side so he can whisper in your ear. “i wonder what people would think of you.” he starts to go into you, and you gasp at the feeling. “not only dating the famous ghostface killer but getting fucked like a whore by him as well.”

he says that as he thrusts just his tip. you let out a choked moan. “please.” you whine. “fuck me.”

chris pushes down the front of your pajamas so your tits bounce out. he’s still thrusting when he squeezes them with his unoccupied hand.

“come on.” you groan, getting impatient. “please.”

he sighs, placing his hand that was on your breasts to your throat, bringing your head back so it can lean on his shoulder.

a loud moan falls from your lips when he starts to fuck into you from behind. his eyes look at your face that’s contorting to pleasure with each thrust. even though it’s dark, the dry blood on his face is still visible, and you find it so hot.

tears come out of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. since you both are standing, the angle of his dick is upward and hits your g-spot repeatedly.

your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open as pornographic sounds are not only coming from your mouth but from the sounds of your pussy taking chris’ cock as if it was made for it.

“hugging my cock so well.” he coos. “you’re clenching, ma.”

a hoarse cry leaves you. “oh, f-fuck.”

your entire body shakes with ecstasy, your orgasm streaking down his shaft. he takes the hand that was on your throat and grabs your hair. “you gonna let me cum in you?” he pulls. “huh?”

you try your best to nod frantically with his grip on your head, sobbing out whines. “here it comes, slut.”

for his last thrust, he pulls out and slams back it, making sure you take all of his release.

he wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall. he’s still buried inside of you because the both of you need to catch your breath.

he finally pulls out of you slowly, letting out a shaky sigh when he looks at what he just did. “i think we both need a shower.” he says sheepishly, lifting you off of the ground and walking through the trees to get back to the house.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A Lucanis x reader where the reader gets severally injured by one of the false gods, which leads to an angry and worried mess of a man half bent of revenge and worry for the reader on surviving the night { she does! }

A/n: best boy 🥹

Lucanis felt sick as he held you close, you've lost so much blood, everything happened so fast. You had taken a blow meant for Harding and while they might have been able to take one of the false god's down none of that mattered to him. Not when he had the prospect of losing you.

Taash had taken you from him long ago, the Quin and Harding along with Bellara tending to your wounds.

His hands were still covered in your blood, his clothes covered in your blood. Everything was screaming at him to go out and slaughter the other god, for harming you.

Spite screaming at him to do something, to stop being such a coward.

You were hurt! How could he allow you to get hurt?!

What if he lost you? What would he do? He finally found love, finally found someone that understood him!

This was his fault, he should have been faster, stronger and now you were fighting for your life because he was not good enough. Gritting his teeth he slammed his fist against the wall.

"You should change?" Neve's voice broke his messy thoughts. "I highly doubt they wish to see you covered in their blood."

"She's awake!" Lucanis jumped to his feet, heart pounding in his chest.

"Change then go see her." Neve gave him a nod then turned her body away as she left his room.

The world was spinning, your mind still clouded. You weren't quite sure what happened but you did know you nearly died as Harding did her best to stay strong in front of you.

Bellara healed you, the best she could anyways but it was good enough.

"Mi amor!" Lucanis breathed a sigh of relief as he rushed to your side. His hand grasping yours as he brought it his lips. His eyes were bloodshot, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled but he didn't care as long as you were okay. "I thought I lost you." His voice was weak as he held your hand.

Fighting back a wince, you forced a smile as you placed your free hand on his cheek. "Not even a god could keep me from you."

Brushing a stray tear from his cheek, Lucanis rested his head against yours. "I will protect you, nothing will keep you from me." He whispered.

[lotties-ashwagandha]

CLEANSED IN STILLNESS

valeria garza x reader

word count 1.2k, requested by my pickle peter @elaci

valeria gets cut by her own knife during the interrogation of a hostage, but you're there to tend to her wounds.

As you slipped through the halls of Valeria’s estate, you found peace in the silence. It was a blessing after the last few hours you’d been put through. 

A hostage had been given to Valeria by her men in the aftermath of their conflict with the Mexican Special Forces. Valeria put him in the basement, and he had been given a chance to talk of his own will, but after an hour of refusal your girlfriend had gotten impatient and things began to get messy. You were able to hear it as the man had begged for his life, and you had heard every cry of agony, every scream that cut through the tranquil stillness of the rest of the house. 

Now, silence had returned. The only noise plaguing the mansion consisted of your footsteps as you sauntered contentedly toward the kitchen. You glanced briefly down the stairs that led to the basement on your way, and an ache settled in your chest — you missed the company of your girlfriend and despised the man who had occupied her attention all day. Even if he had ended up dead, you still believed him privileged to have been her immediate focus for such a long time. 

Though she had been out of reach for a while, Valeria would be coming up from the basement soon. She had people to clean up the mess left by the interrogation so she didn’t have to. They would prepare it for the next to fall. 

You paused at the start of the next corridor. The light in the bathroom was on, and the door was left open, and you could hear items slamming about in the medicine cabinet above the sink. You jumped at the sound of something landing on tile, and a moment later Valeria’s voice filled the mansion, curses spilling out into the halls freely. 

Concern surged through you at the sight of her as you moved to the entrance to the bathroom. Blood ran down her left hand and wrist, rubbing off onto the sink as she dug through the bathroom to find something to use as a bandage. 

Valeria startled when you stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. She paused, looking down at her own injured hand with an expression akin to embarrassment. 

“What happened?” you asked, and attempted to grab her arm but she pulled away. “The man you were talking to, did he do this?”

“No,” she answered dryly. She moved her gaze back to the medicine cabinet.

You noticed her knife at the edge of the sink and took it. Blood tinged the blade, and you began to understand – Valeria was masterful with knives, but she was also prone to recklessness, and in the basement interrogating a soldier of the enemy was the perfect situation for accidental wounds. 

Valeria snatched the knife from your grasp. She put it back on the edge of the sink, giving you a sharp look. “You shouldn’t be playing with knives.” 

“Apparently, neither should you,” you said, and nodded to her hand. “Let me see it.” 

She hesitated. You knew she was embarrassed of herself for the accidental cut, and you waited patiently as she took a moment of apprehension before slowly extending her arm to you. 

You found the cut at the palm of her hand. It wasn’t deep, but it stretched the entire distance of her palm, and the blood that covered her made it look gruesome. Some of it rubbed off onto your hands as you examined the injury, painting both of you in matching crimson. 

“We need to clean it,” you said as you continued to assess the cut. “Let me help you.” 

“I don’t need any help,” she replied haughtily. “It looks worse than it is.” 

“Maybe, but you’re going to get blood everywhere. And we both know you’ll fuck it up if you try bandaging it yourself.” 

The hint of a smile crossed over her lips at that. She knew you were right, and that if she hadn’t been able to find bandaging for it she might not have fucked with it at all – so with a sigh Valeria relented, giving you a short nod. 

Gently you began to clean the cut. Though you knew it stung as you cleansed it under warm water, you could see her begin to relax. She needed this — to be cared for as exhaustion and stress and every weight she carried began to overtake her. You were content to be her release. In any way she needed you would care for her, in every way she refused to care for herself. 

As you dried the cut, you were reassured by how minor it proved it be. Valeria had been right — it wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked. Yet still you cared for her, and suppressed a smile at the slight crankiness in her expression as you glanced at her before turning to the medicine cabinet. 

“Bandages aren’t in there,” Valeria said with a huff. “I already looked. I think someone stole them.” 

You found bandaging next to the gauze, and took both of them out of the cabinet. Valeria watched with surprise, brows furrowing as if you’d done a magic trick she was trying to find the secret to. 

She was patient as you bandaged and wrapped her hand. What remained of her stress melted away and she watched you contentedly. It felt natural to be tending to her, your hands cradling hers, protection she didn’t need that you would always offer anyway. It felt more natural than breathing. You would spend an eternity watching over her, caring for her every need if it would present to her any breath of joy that you were able to give. 

She watched you with admiration as you wrapped her hand. You were too engulfed in it to notice, but love danced in her eyes as she let herself be vulnerable to your ministrations. It was no small feat to her that she allowed herself to put such trust in you. 

“Now, don’t fuck with it,” you warned when you were finished and gestured to the bandaging. 

She smiled mischievously. “You know I would never.” 

Incredulously, you shook your head. You knew her hand would be unwrapped by the time you went to bed. But you weren’t bothered, because it had made both of you happy that you’d taken care of her. 

Valeria pulled you into her arms, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. Her features illustrated contentment as she stood with you, her arms wrapped around you. Even as she pulled away to examine her hand again one of her arms was still looped around your waist. 

“Thank you for this,” she said quietly. Her gaze was still fixed on her hand. “You didn’t have to.” 

“I did,” you insisted with a small smile. “Like I said, otherwise you would have gotten blood all over our bathroom. You’ve already decimated the sink.” 

She muttered something under her breath about how the sink was fine and you were just being dramatic. You pretended not to hear it, amused by her embarrassment. 

As the two of you began to clean up the bathroom, you were already devising ways to tease her about the knife accident – the jokes you would make while she cut the ingredients for lunch would be unparalleled. 

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

What do you think Katniss and Peeta’s unexpected turn ons are? Like a small innocent thing about the other that drives them wild just because they really love them so much? And makes the other one go “really? 😉”

This was way too much fun to answer and got out of hand. I could probably think up a thousand more of these if I had the time.

<3 kdnfb

Canonically, Peeta cannot lie to Katniss and look her in the eyes. When she figures out that he still can’t post-mj, she uses it to her advantage. She can always tell when he’s trying to fib his way out of accidentally revealing an innocuous secret or a surprise he’s planning, like what he’s getting her for her birthday. And it drives her a little insane. Like “either look me in the eyes when you try to lie to me or take me to bed right now, since you won’t give me my present right now.”

Katniss is a consummate caretaker, to an almost annoying degree. Fortunately for her, she husbanded someone with a caretaker kink. That boy was dying of blood poisoning, raging with fever in a deathmatch arena, and he was still laying down the lines and making her laugh. Every time she fusses over him or bosses him around when he’s got a minor injury or just a little sniffling cold, that man is in full on flirt mode and dragging her into bed with him. “I’ve got a surefire way you can make me feel better.” “If we have sex, will you stop whining and get up so I can wash the sheets afterwards?” she sighs in exasperation as she’s stripping off her clothes and crawling under the covers with him.

Meanwhile, Katniss goes feral whenever Peeta gets a little protective of her. Some whackadoo from the Capitol comes out to Twelve to check on the progress of the new medicine factory and brings a limousine with him on the train, but the roads in Twelve are not made for cars like that and the idiot almost runs people over. So of course, Peeta wraps his arm around his wife and bodily lifts her out of the path. One second she’s walking through town, reciting her shopping list, the next she’s pressed up against a storefront with Peeta’s body caging her in and some idiot driver is careening past, honking his horn. And if you think Katniss doesn’t almost climb him right there and he has to toss her over his shoulder to drag her home before she tears his clothes off, I cannot help you.

Both of them become unhinged morons whenever the other one is a complete mess. 

By this I mean Katniss comes in from tending the garden, her shirt all sweaty and clinging to her. Her hair’s a mess and she’s got a little sunburn on her nose and cheeks and Peeta’s already naked, demanding she take him on the spot. 

Similar response when she comes home a little disheveled from a hunt. “At least let me put the meat in the freezer first, Peeta.” Nope. She gets railed up against said freezer and can’t keep a straight face when they have to invite Haymitch over to eat all this meat because they had to cook it immediately after or it would’ve gone bad.

Peeta starts coming home from the bakery deliberately a little messy. Flour in his hair, sugar stuck to his neck. A random smear of frosting on his arm. Why? Because Katniss starts squirming the instant she sees him and honestly, he really likes it when she mounts him in the hallway because she couldn’t make it the five extra feet to the bedroom.

He’s lost count of how many times they’ve had sex because he didn’t get all the paint washed off his hands before a meal or before bed. And he almost never notices the smear of paint or pencil dust that winds up on his left temple because he brushed back his hair at some point while he was painting/drawing and why is that so hot? She has no clue, all she knows is that she wants to bathe in him. Usually, she manages to wait a little while for that one, mainly because she wants to see what he was painting before she jumps him. What he was painting often dictates the flavor of their sex.

He doesn’t paint the Games as much, after the first time she tells him “Real,” but when he does, the sex is tender and usually happens in the art studio itself, on a paint splattered sofa or on the floor, rolling around on his floor tarps so that both of them are smeared with paint afterwards.

If he’s painting her or other people that they love, they’ll make it up to the bedroom before clothes start flying, laughing and teasing each other the entire way. Katniss will be laughing so hard she snorts while she’s moaning and coming at the same time. Peeta lives to make her snort laughing while she’s coming, btw. Huge turn on, switch flipped to feral mode as soon as she's done coming, and Katniss feels like she won’t be able to walk straight for a day after he finishes inside her.

He uses her as a canvas? Well eventually he's gonna wind up covered in paint too. They go until the paint starts to dry and by then, they're sleepy and content and can barely move anymore.

Painting landscapes and nature scenes? Absolutely feral pig sex where the neighbors worry about them and ask each other if they should… knock? Make sure everyone is still alive in there? Katniss really can’t walk straight for a day after that, but she’s not complaining. Instead she’s demanding her husband carry her around, because he did that to her, after all.

Sadly for Katniss, Peeta carrying her around is something she absolutely loves for the tenderness and silliness of it, but also at times it turns her into a raving madwoman "take me to bed and throw me on it then fuck me this instant before I pull out all my hair, husband!"

And ho buddy, when the two of them come home all sweaty and gross from rebuilding the district? Round one on the floor in the entryway. Round two with skin squealing on shower walls and borderline screaming moans echoing off the bathroom walls. Hair pulling, biting, clawing sex. Let me inside your skin, ten minutes later we’re still actively sweating well damn it that shower was fucking pointless in terms of getting clean sex.

Katniss eats her pie backwards, crust first and Peeta doesn’t know why, but for some reason, he thinks it’s adorable and needs to have her instantly. Haymitch wonders why he no longer gets pie on nights when he eats dinner with them. There’s always dessert… but no pie. So Peeta starts baking Haymitch his own pies and dropping them off, because he’s not giving up his absolute need to toss Katniss on the table and eat her out like he’s a dying man whenever she eats her pie like that.

Peeta looks like he’s solving all of the world’s problems when he’s brushing his teeth. So serious. Sometimes, Katniss will throw small objects at his prosthetic until he notices and giggles when he does, looking at her like she’s an annoying brat. Sometimes, she sneaks up behind him and makes faces at him over his shoulder until he laughs and spits out the toothpaste. Other times, her hands on him are incredibly naughty and the next thing he knows, he looks like a rabid animal in the mirror while he’s bent over the sink, holding on for dear life with her hands on his dick, unraveling him one caress and stroke at a time. But whatever she does, it ends with their sheets an absolute wreck and both of them naked and sweaty and staring at the ceiling going “Wow. So that… happened…”

Katniss bites her nails when she’s nervous and Peeta fixes it by snatching her hand and kissing her from her fingertips up her arms to her neck… where he blows a raspberry until she’s laughing. Do smutty things happen after that? Depends on the setting.

Peeta still flirts with her. Like blatantly, let's see how red I can get my wife’s face flirting with her over the bakery counter or in the town square, in front of literally everyone’s salad. And Katniss just melts like a loon but is secretly plotting how to get him naked asap. She’s not against throwing him against the nearest tree if only there weren’t so many people in the district. Oh but she’s absolutely savaged him against several trees in the woods because he was flirting.

Peeta whistles when he’s working in the bakery. Katniss thinks it’s adorable and sexy as hell. She sings in the shower and Peeta never misses the show, sitting on the toilet or just standing against the sink just to hear her sing. It’s the only time he manages to move silently.

Katniss cannot keep her hands out of Peeta’s hair. Girl is obsessed. And Peeta finds it at turns, adorable, adorably annoying, a mild turn on, or holy hell hot. Like “pull my hair again when I make you come” hot. Conversely, she absolutely loves it when Peeta brushes and braids her hair for her. He’s trying to have a tender, loving moment, and she’s often “are you done yet because as soon as that hair tie is on, i’m gonna be all over you.”

Both of them absolutely love it when the other one laughs. It’s not always a turn on, per se, but when it is… lord have mercy they broke a whole ass bed one time because Peeta laughed at something Katniss said.

Peeta wearing loose, soft pajama pants or the like. Katniss is all hot and bothered and “i’m not that big you can definitely fit me in there with you…” Peeta looks at her like she’s lost it, but they actually do try it once or twice. Numerous pairs of pants have been ripped and sewn back together in this pursuit, and not because she couldn’t fit in there with him.

He’s long since accepted that if they’re dressing up for some occasion, he has to get dressed two hours early. To give Katniss enough time to rip it all off and have her way with him and still have time for them to shower and get dressed again so they’re not late.

Anytime Katniss wears one of his shirts, sweaters, etc, he’s pretty sure he’s going to die unless he gets his mouth or hands on her and then his cock inside her because half the time, she’s not wearing a bra or pants with them, just panties, and he just… has to have her. NOW. While said garment is still on her body. Especially a particular red sweater he was wearing the day they had sex the first time and she wore it the morning after.

She absolutely has a sunset orange nightie that nearly gets removed (or not removed) every time she wears it, but removed or not… either way, Katniss can’t feel her toes after Peeta makes her come as many times as he can whenever she wears it. 

[anonymous-dentist]

Inspired by @comfymoth’s wolfbit au

-

Cellbit wakes up on Roier’s couch.

On top of a sleeping Roier.

Naked.

Oh, fuck.

Frozen and completely mortified, Cellbit listens to Roier’s heartbeat, his ear pressed against Roier’s very firm chest. He is pressed against Roier’s chest, held firm by a possessive arm slung over his back. Their breaths come in sync.

At least Roier is clothed. At least. Because, frankly, Cellbit would be more concerned if Roier was also naked after the kind of night they probably had. Because the night before was the full moon, and the wolf really wasn’t supposed to be out of the basement.

Carefully, Cellbit extricates himself from Roier’s very tight grip. He’s known Roier for long enough to know that he sleeps like the dead, so at least there’s that.

Roier only grumbles a little as Cellbit frees himself. He rolls onto his side, arm falling off of the side of the couch, fingers grazing the carpet; it’s coated with dog hair, shit.

Very, very calmly, Cellbit picks up a throw pillow to cover himself with. And then he takes off running up the stairs and to Roier’s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it.

Okay. He keeps spare clothes in Roier’s closet. Okay.

His hands shake as he buttons up his shirt. But it’s fine. It’s fine! He can just run home and Roier will never know it was him.

A dull-sounding knock at the bedroom door: a single thud, and then a drawn-out, annoyed-sounding groan.

“You’re fucking loud!” Roier whines, and Cellbit freezes, the top few buttons of his shirt still undone. “And you’re stealing my shit? What the hell, man?”

Technically, it’s Cellbit’s shit. But he can’t say that because he at least still has some plausible deniability if he stays silent. He can jump out the window and suffer the broken ankle and limp home and answer Roier’s inevitable phone call and apologize for not picking up sooner, I came down with something, sorry!

But then Roier says, “I’m starting the shower. I don’t want you downstairs until you’re done smelling like shit, okay? I can smell the animal guts from out here.”

…Yeah, he knows. Cellbit doesn’t know how, but, well. Roier’s a genius, he just doesn’t like to show it. Of course he somehow figured it out.

Cellbit listens to the shower get turned on in the bathroom next door, and he waits for Roier to head downstairs again before skulking out of the bedroom and into the bathroom.

With a sigh, he starts unbuttoning his shirt again.

Roier was right. He does smell like animal guts.

-

There’s breakfast waiting when Cellbit sulks his way downstairs. It smells good. Shame he can’t eat any of it.

He sits down at the table, anyway. He lets his hands settle in his lap, and he hangs his head to stare at them.

Roier, across from him, is quiet. He’s eating, and normally he likes a good conversation with his meals. He loves to talk, and Cellbit loves to listen. But now? Silence.

A few agonizing minutes in, Roier says, “You brought me a dead squirrel.”

Cellbit winces. “Sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. You ended up eating it.”

Of course it did. Animals tend to do that.

Another moment of quiet as Roier continues eating. His fork scrapes against his plate.

Then:

“Are you okay?”

Cellbit’s head snaps up. “What? Of course.”

Roier nods, unconvinced. He has sauce dripping out from the corner of his mouth; it almost looks like blood, but that’s fine. He still looks good.

He looks… tired. Dark circles, messy hair. God, did it keep him up all night?

Cellbit frowns. “Are you okay?”

God only knows what the wolf did to force Roier to stay awake. It’s a biter, he knows that. If it bit him…

Roier cracks a grin. “I’m fine, man. You, though?”

He clicks his tongue disapprovingly, shaking his head with a put-on playful little frown.

Cellbit saw himself in the mirror upstairs. It was fogged from the shower, but he didn’t look much worse than he usually does after the full moon. Only difference is the lack of bruising on his fingernails and a less sore throat.

He locked the basement, didn’t he? He locked the door and he put the key on the top shelf where the wolf can’t reach it and he sat on the floor and he waited. So why is he here?

Sighing, Cellbit slumps back into his seat and presses his face into his hands.

“Can we just forget last night ever happened?” he mumbles.

“Do you even know what happened?”

“No, and it’s better that I don’t. It won’t happen again.”

“Why not? It was fun!”

What.

Cellbit peeks out from between his fingers. Roier looks genuine, but he’s also got a killer poker face.

“Roier,” Cellbit slowly says, “I’m a werewolf.”

Roier shrugs. “So what?”

“‘So what’?” Cellbit’s hands fall from his face in shock. “It could have killed you!”

“What? Nah, all we did was cuddle and watch Spider-Man.”

No way. There’s no way.

Roier must pick up on Cellbit’s disbelief because he rolls his eyes and pulls his shirt off.

Cellbit immediately flushes and averts his eyes. (He’s seen Roier shirtless before, of course, but… now? Really?)

“Look, gatinho. No damage.”

Hesitantly, Cellbit risks a glance upwards. True to Roier’s word, his skin is, as always, perfect. Not a single scratch on his perfectly-toned body.

“Ahm,” says Cellbit, who may or may not be staring. “Uh. Yes.”

(He’s seen Roier shirtless before, but he’s never been able to keep his brain from melting every time it happens. What he would give to…)

Roier smirks. “My eyes are up here, gatinho.”

Cellbit nods. “They sure are.”

(They aren’t even together [yet], but Cellbit wants.)

This is a distraction. It has to be. But it’s a damn good one.

Roier clears his throat, and Cellbit tears his eyes away from Roier’s bare chest to look him in the eyes.

“I’m fine,” Roier gently says.

Cellbit swallows and looks away again. “Yeah, but you might not be next time. I’ll make sure that it doesn’t bother you again.”

He’s going to spend the entire next moon cycle fixing up the basement door with a new lock. Maybe Forever would be kind enough to lock him in from the outside, but Felps would be less likely to argue about it. He’s used to Cellbit acting like a monster.

“Considering this is the fifth full moon you’ve come here, I dunnoooo…”

Roier’s voice is light and teasing, but horror settles in Cellbit’s bones like frozen lead. He can’t breathe.

“What?” he gasps.

He risks a look at Roier. He still doesn’t look upset. Why?

Roier nods. “Oh, yeah. Last night was just the first time you’ve slept over.”

He beams. “That just means you like me, eh?”

He winks, but Cellbit can’t so much as blink in response. He always thought it was weird that the door has been cracked open when he’s been waking up in the basement, but he figured it was just him acting in the fuzzy twilight stage between himself and the beast that happens around dawn. But maybe that’s just it but in reverse, maybe it’s the sunset. He loses himself around then, so…

Roier’s face falls. “Cellbit?”

Cellbit just shakes his head in response, sinking back into his chair, the world just the tiniest bit more distant than it was a moment ago. Roier could have died.

“I’m sorry,” Cellbit hoarsely says. His voice shakes. Is he crying?

Roier’s eyes widen in panic and he scrambles out of his seat and around the table, crouching in front of Cellbit with an unsure smile. Shirtless.

“Calma,” Roier softly says. “Look at me, gatinho.”

He gently cups Cellbit’s face in his hands, thumb wiping away the single panicked tear making its way down Cellbit’s cheek.

“How long have you known it was me?” Cellbit asks. He has to know. If Roier has been lying to him-

“Honestly? I figured it out this morning. You snore so loud I can hear it in my sleep.”

“Oh my God.”

“Hey. It’s fine.” Roier lightly slaps Cellbit’s cheeks. “Wolf-you is just as sweet as people-you, I promise. All you ever want to do is snuggle or play fetch. It’s cute.”

Cellbit feels his face heating up. His hindbrain basks in the praise, he can feel it. He hates it.

He smiles, anyway. He can’t help it. Roier just has this effect on him.

Roier’s own smile widens. “Ayyy, there he is. You’re much more handsome when you’re smiling.”

Cellbit sniffs out a laugh and looks to the side. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous? You’re the one that smells like wet dog, what the fuck? No wonder you never shower, you smell just as bad after.”

Cellbit annoyedly shrugs his way out of Roier’s hold. “Fuck you, man!”

“I’m just saying-”

“Put your shirt back on, too, what the fuck?”

“Do you really want me to?”

“Yes!”

Absolutely not, and Roier knows it. But he winks, and he pulls his shirt back on, and he stands and shuffles back to his side of the table. He sits, and he picks up his fork and knife like Cellbit isn’t being embarrassing across the table from him. Again.

“But seriously,” Roier says after allowing Cellbit a brief moment to try and compose himself, “if you want, you can always come here when you’re all… furry.”

“But don’t want it to hurt you,” Cellbit says.

“And you won’t,” Roier replies. “I trust you.”

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? But.

“I’ll think about it,” Cellbit lies. But something tells him that he won’t get a choice in the matter.

Roier knows he’s lying. Roier always knows he’s lying. But he accepts it because he’s literally the best friend anyone could ask for (Cellbit just hopes that they’ll be something more someday, too.)

“There’s a plate on the counter for you,” Roier warmly says. “Eat before going home, okay? It’s a long walk.”

“You could just drive me,” Cellbit says, standing and going to get the mentioned plate. The food looks good, as always.

“Fuck no, I’m going to sleep as soon as you’re gone. Because I was so rudely woken up this morning.”

Roier sniffs, affronted. Cellbit rolls his eyes and lightly smacks him on the back of the head as he walks back to the table.

“Cállate,” he huffs.

Roier idly smacks him back, but he laughs, and Cellbit finds himself laughing as well.

What a fucking morning.

(When Cellbit gets home that evening, he first feeds Richarlyson. Then he texts the group chat to let everyone know he’s alive. Then he texts Roier a blurry selfie of him holding up the middle finger in front of his face. Then he rolls up his sleeves and sets to work on fixing the lock on the basement door.

Next full moon, he won’t be so stupid.)

[5lut4ghouls]

Basic sleep token hcs...

An// Nearly all of these have reasons, either from songs, stage costumes, etc. i think about sleep token lore a little too often. The boys also use he/they/it.

Tws// monster vessels, they are not human. Mentions of human sacrifice, also mentions of cannibalism? Kinda? They aren't human so like, cannibalism adjacent

✦sleep is a lady. Or at least fem presenting. I don't care. I do not have a reason for this it just is.

✦her possession or prolonged heavy influence causes mutations to the body and mind

✦most commonly claws, sharpened teeth, hunger for blood/flesh, patches of grey and black skin

✦sleep prefers human sacrifice, as seen in Nazareth.

✦He's sleep's preacher. Also her preferred vessel, his body does not react as severely to her possession.

✦He has the widest emotional range of the vessels, as seen in the music.

✦Has six eyes, each set is a slightly different color, his mask highlights that feature.

✦While you would think humans would feel comfortable around him, they tend to be off put by him.

✦His prey drive is the lowest, it's rare to see him randomly hunting, prefers to give offerings in other ways.

✦He is a lot more mellow than any of the others, has the lowest emotional range. he's also more logical. He does have moments of being more expressive though.

✦He tends to plan a lot of the things related to the cult. He's sleep's second hand, despite being the second choice for a vessel

✦He has no mouth, the skin there is completely smooth, as seen in his mask.

✦He feeds through a proboscis-like appendage that sprouts when he's hungry. Because of that his “bite” is the least messy and painful. I do not have a reason for this but??? I cannot think of how else he would eat.

✦He also speaks telepathically. The ability also allows him to manipulate people's thoughts to a certain extent, similar to mind control.

✦He's sleep’s hunter. His prey drive is massive.

✦Not only does he thoroughly enjoy making his own sacrifices to sleep via hunting, he's also the one to pick and take the sacrifices for group rituals.

✦He's a horribly messy eater, looks like something straight out of a horror movie. When iii feeds nothing is safe from the blood stains.

✦He's the most sadistic vessel

✦Flesh on his torso + arms and upper thighs is zombified. Not too bad, but it looks worse than it is

✦When he was human he had tattoos all over those areas, they're still visible, albeit subtly

✦He's covered in a lot of piercings, iv gave him most of them

✦While his main form of offering is sacrifices, he also gets piercings/dyes his hair whenever he still wants to give her something but he isn't feeling as violent.

✦He doesn't quite have a role in the cult yet, though he has picked up habits from the other three boys

✦Sleep has noticed that iv does the best with new members, likely due to how human he seems to remain

✦His lasting humanity has also managed to enchant the other vessels. They're often more protective of him than each other (which is saying something)

✦The odd mix of humanity and monstrosity also has a siren-like effect with the humans. Vessel and his words draw them into the cult, and iv's presence is what makes them feel safe enough to finally join the cult

✦His main monstrous features haven't formed yet, mostly due to a lack of possession, but he does have the basics. (Claws, sharp teeth, etc.)

✦the results of the past three attempts of sleep getting a fem vessel

✦they are spirits that died during sleep's possession.

✦because they died during possession they are essentially tethered to sleep, and are often found where her presence is the strongest

[maria-crossover]

† The Believer †

After months I was able to finish the concept sheet for my Outlast Trials OC ^_^ I'm still working on her lore and the description of the Trials but in the meantime I'll give you some information about her...

General information | Prime Asset backstory | Trials | Dialogues

「 Prime Assets 」

“Someone is desecrating the body of one of God's children? How disrespectful… You better start repenting and stop, unless you want your pretty hands cut off!” —María Carmichael

Appearance (Physical Description)

Height of 1'55 cm (5'8) is a young adult with the appearance of a teenager due to genetics and probably a slow development in hormones. The age isn't identified due to her bones and teeth, also due to the subject's lack of memory and behavior (Has somewhat sharp front fangs). Her clothing includes a long-sleeved black shirt with gray stripes, a gardening overalls with black jeans stained with white paint, black boots and a gardening glove on her left hand. Short messy black hair with curls. Unlike the Ex-Pops, she doesn't show signs of having undergone surgeries or changes presented by the infirmary. The girl only has a scar on her right cheek, on her neck and bleeding bandages on the hand that carries the deployable sickle, also, night vision glasses that connect to a modified car battery that she carries inside a small black backpack.

There is also Manny, it's part of the subject that possesses and controls. It has a humanoid appearance, almost a "ghost", but it is made of ashes, gunpowder and nanomachines with some blood from the girl and previous people it tried to possess. When the believer climbs the walls and ceilings, you can see that her arms, legs and abdomen are covered by a black smoke that is clearly the Walrider helping her and providing her with unique abilities like those.

Personality

María is the only one of the Ex-Pops who is more sane, but she is very insecure, paranoid and easily manipulated, so much so that she sees the Reagents as sinful enemies. She suffers from a hero complex, telling herself that she is God's chosen one and Manny is an angel who will be helping her at all times so that the world can seek its redemption while getting rid of the sinners. However, she constantly exhibits violent behavior towards any human being, especially adults. She tends to be a bit open-mouthed and rude when it comes to hanging around the Trials when the Reagents or an Ex-Pop are present.

She is mostly rude around the Ex-Pops because they are "adults", but with Franco she is more polite. This is due to a post-trauma that she suffered during her kidnapping in her childhood, her greatest fear and hatred will be adults from then on, however, as Franco shares characteristics of an infant she doesn't say anything because she trusts children more, seeing them as vulnerable and unconscious beings. In fact, María divides between "normal" people and the sick. Her behavior varies to normal adults, seeing them as hostile and potential sinners, she doesn't usually trust anyone. However, with sick adults she sees them as harmless, the sick refers to those who are mentally disabled. One reason is that she sees Franco as vulnerable, his behaviour. But she also doesn't deny that he resembles a child and She sees him a little weaker. Although Manny doesn't think the same and is of the idea that all people, humans in general, are equally hostile and disgusting. Except with Maria, since it have a close bond with her.

Having the Walrider inside her, almost always ruins her brain by sharing a body with an entity. Since her violent tendencies and bad mood are due to the pain of having something in her body, her bones and the mobility that she has not had completely in her body before. Which leads to suicidal tendencies, with clear depressive thoughts of "goodbye" to her life and perhaps abandoning it at the hands of her friend Manny.

Despite being somewhat sane, she displays sadistic tendencies when it comes to torturing a Reagent, whether in a chase, attack, or execution. This is due to the adrenaline and anger she feels, at the traumatic memory, the injustice she witnessed in childhood, and a helpless desire to cause pain to those she considers harmful sinners.

Maria mixes her language with English, being of Argentine blood, mostly when she insults and apologizes when doing so. Also the songs she usually hums while wandering through the darkness looking for Reagents. She uses Spanish as for insults, taking advantage of many who do not understand her language to be sincere with her thoughts and regardless of her feelings. She is very indifferent to speaking openly and honestly about what she has in mind, politically, economically or religiously. But when it comes to her past, the many families she may have been in, she keeps her words to herself so as not to speak.

Despite being very aggressive, she is obedient and makes an effort with Manny to get him to follow her. Besides having a great adoration for Jesus and God, she trusts (in a small part) Dr. Easterman. Although most of the work she does is to seek approval and earn respect or adoration from him, which she desires, a consequence of the loving absence of her parents and generating emotional dependence on Easterman.

Since the first meeting with Clyde Perry to talk, she was always cautious and distrustful. She has never spoken or trusted with any human being, unlike the Walrider. She mostly talks to herself, but she actually talks to Manny who occupies her body and is the only the living being she can trust to talk to and feel safe. Walrider always protected Maria, not only for the body but for the company she offered throughout the journey. Supposedly she can hear it speak, only her, since she shared her body she is the only one who hears his voice, as inside and outside her body. Maybe a connection or a consequence of sharing her brain and hearing the voice through her thoughts.

Weapons and Skills

Like the Reagents, but unlike the Prime Assets, she can see in the dark and climb walls with the help of Manny. The lenses of the glasses change color from green to red when she finds a Reagent. In addition to that, she can climb ceilings or walls with the help of the Walrider. She uses a deployable sickle, modified to be stored while climbing ceilings and only takes it out when she is standing on the ground to attack.

Walrider, or known as "Manny" by María, is part of her abilities. Providing her with greater mobility in the test, strength and support when executing a Reagent. The Walrider also grants her a temporary levitation ability, when she lets go of a wall or ceiling. But when a Reagent uses a stun module, it not only affects the girl, but Manny as well. And after recovering, she shudders along with the cold sound of her bones adjusting, showing that the Walrider is readjusting inside her.

Trials

Ruin the wake

Burn Jesus

Kill the Father

Poison the followers

[volturiprincess]

Day 4: Four Calling Birds

Alec Volturi x fem vamp reader

Warning: mentions of blood and alcohol

Word Count: 699

(Moodboard)

I cannot believe he is actually wearing it, he looks so….normal, so human. And to top it off he looks so handsome like this, messy hair with some flannel pajama bottoms and a black long sleeve. I should have asked him to do this long ago because I would never have suspected how good he would look, it's giving me flashbacks to when he started to wear leather gloves for the first time. He stood in front of me with a slight pout as I stared at him with my lips slightly parted and my eyes thunderstruck. I can't seem to look away or even want to, he's too good to look away from.

“Cara? Please say something, your starting to worry me”

I finally make my journey of staring him down to meet his handsome face, I throw myself into his arms as my hands bury themselves in his dark locks. I look into his eyes with the most smitten look I could muster because I am after all swooning over him. He still has his little pout as I still haven't said anything to him, I trace the contours in his cheekbones, down to his jawline which made his lips part slightly at my touch. I continue to trace any dip in his face to any sharp angles his face has to offer, to outlining his plump lips that are still agape. His eyes eventually closed as I continue to explore his face with my finger, he looks so relaxed and is practically clinging to me as if I were to leave him at any given moment. 

“I'm still waiting”

“Let me finish here first, love”

“Fine”

My hand goes to his exposed neck and deciding to tease I wrap my small hand around it and give him a slight squeeze. He made a fake choking sound as his eyes opened in annoyance but failed to contain it as he laughed wholeheartedly. 

“You little devil, trying to go there this early in the day? Let's go out first then we will see after, hm?”

“Okay but only because I want to make snow angels with you, my angel boy”

“Angel boy? That's a new one”

I giggled slightly as I booped his nose, his face quickly turned into a dumbfounded look which only made me laugh out loud as his innocent face. He pushed me away playfully as he walked to the closet to get ready for the day. I sigh as I realize he's going to change out of his pajamas. I think I will end up having to buy one of each color of those flannels because he looked too gorgeous to not appreciate it more.

I quickly get ready as I meet him by the door, he interlocks his gloved hand with mine as we make our way outside. As soon as the cold breeze hits us a small smile comes to my face, as we step foot on the snow covered steps. I never knew after centuries of dealing with hardships in my bond with Alec would lead to this, where we are at peace with one another and we finally have a deep love that keeps getting stronger every year. We ended up in an area where there was grass but is now covered by untouched snow, it felt like it was meant to be at that moment.

“So is this what you had in mind?”

“It's perfect”

We lay on the out backs in the snow as we started to make our snow angels, as we stood with ease I drew a small heart between our angels. I smiled up at him as this time he booped my nose, my face turned to a look of surprise from his sudden act of affection.

"Pay back cara”

I scoffed playfully as we made our way back to the castle. We tend to end our Christmas day by the fireplace with our respected wine that is combined with blood. As so that’s how we find ourselves right now, me cuddled to his side, drinks in hand and to top it off he is back into his pajamas that I love so much.

[crystlizabeth]

You know that

Simon Riley x Black!femreader

Warnings: kinda Angsty, fluff. Talk of past abuse(not a lot) call sign is Mav short for Maverick, reader also has a son, kinda occ Ghost, tbh this write feels messy n everywhere lol so there’s your warning. Not proofread.

Summary: Simon never understood why she was so talkative to him, but he never mind to listen. He knew he was bad for her so he kept his distance though she never made it easy for him. So when a bandage change becomes more personal he takes his chances.

Stressful week not even a week weeks, the team had been on deployment for almost a month now somewhere in Mexico. Thought she wasn’t a soldier she was one of the field nurses, she spent night and day stitching and feeding meds to the boys her and the other girls were there to make sure nobody died.

As of right now it was a more slow morning for they needed to lay low for the next 12 or so hours, soldiers going in and out having bandages changed and pain killers in their system. The smell of coffee running through the camp, “here babes.” The darkskined nurse said to her.

“Thanks Aniyah, hey has anyone changed ghost bandage yet?” The woman asked, the other girls look and her shaking there heads their expressions a little spooked at the mention of his name.

“Has anyone seen, Ghost?” She asked the cup of coffee in her hands.

“I think he’s down buy the water I overheard Him talking with Johnny.” Aniyah said tossing her braids back into a low ponytail.

Great.. now she had to hunt him down so his wound wouldn’t get infected, knowing he had to come in yesterday morning but never did. The other girls where kinda scared of his diameter well as most were. The recruits thought the lieutenant was an asshole, and again intimidating. She let out a sigh grabbing her coffee and supplies leaving the tend going to find the Lt.

As Aniyah said he was down by the water pretty far from the camp, Ghost sat in the grass smoking a cigarette. Her body started the walk down to him, he obviously heard her because he turned his head to see who it was. Ghost eyes scanning her, she wore forest green scrubs today a black long sleeve covering her arms. She always had her arms covered he’s never seen her arms bare but he never questioned could be the simple answer of just another layer to keep blood off her. Her curls worn in a half up half down style her coils frizzed yet still looked amazing, her edge laid meaning she had enough time this morning for herself.

“You know Ghosts is rude to stare.” She said walking up next to him. The contrast from the sunrise complementing Her melanin complexion perfectly.

He turned his head away from her, “What can I do for you Mav..” his tone empty.

She sat down next to him putting the kit down as well as her coffee “well i dont mind you avoiding me though it dose bother me a bit.” She admitted, “but, you need your bandage changed.”

He glanced at her taking another hit of his smoke “I changed it..” he said.

“Mmhm right, non of the girls have seen you come in or out of the infirmary don’t lie to me.” She sassed lightly, he eyes lingered on his lower face his mask sat above his lips no further than that though. She’s seen his face once before but she always couldn’t help but stare how one of his scares trailed from the top of his lip down to his chin, a few spots that healed leaving smaller but deeper scars.

His eyes met hers, “ya know it’s rude to stare.” He mocked her.

A light scoff came from the woman “oh please if you can get an eye full so can I.” She smiled at him, leaving him only to shake his head.

He put the smoke in his mouth going to lift his shirt, revealing the two bandages one on his back near his shoulder and the other on his lower side. “There.”

“Thank you.” She said grabbing the kit first going to the bandage on his side.

Peeling the bloody bandage of his stitches looked a bit irritated, she cleaned the area gently scraping off some of the crusted blood. “I wish you came to the infirmary soon, if not me one of the girls could have cleaned you up.” She spoke her voice slight worried because he’s let his wound get slightly infected just so he didn’t have to face her, she didn’t know why but she couldn’t let it bother her.

He let out a muffled scoff “those girls are scared of me, well besides Aniyah and you obviously..”

“Why didn’t you ask her?”

“Because I didn’t want her to..” he answered simply.

She signed she wanted to ask but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer. “What on your mind?” He asked.

Her eyes connected with his their gaze lingered before she finally spoke “You know you’re not as bad as everyone makes you out to be..” she said avoiding her original question.

Her eyes moving back to his wound taping it down, his eyes now focused on her. Those words hit something in him making him feel vulnerable, and god knows only she could make him feel that way. But she said it as if she knew something more, she knew that he felt that way and that it actually bothered him. They now sat in silence nothing uncomfortable but silence as she worked on his other bandage.

She soon finished pulling his shirt down going to sit next to him her eyes stayed on the moving water in front of them. “Why do you keep your arms covered?” He asked.

“Sorry if it’s personal..” he muttered hoping the wasn’t the reason.

“I have tattoos they make me feel less professional I guess and my Ex never liked them… not that care what he thinks anymore but it kinda just turned into a habit.” She answered taking a sip of her coffee.

“Less professional, you realize almost everyone here has them.” He said, “why didn’t your ex like them?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know im guessing he just wanted me to be more proper not seen as some..” she stoped herself.

“Never mind im not here to talk about my fucked up relationship.” She shook her head.

“Why do you cover your face?” Her voice sounded hesitant.

“Scares lots of them, some from my child hood and not their not very pleasant to look at.” He explained.

Not very pleasant to look at… she thought, she thought he was simply gorgeous. For only seeing his face once she took in every detail even the fact he was a blonde. But he didn’t know that.

“I was gonna say something personal but I’m not gonna cross that line..” she said.

He put another cigarette up to his mouth lighting it. “Please do.. you seem like you need to talk about something..” he spoke blowing smoke out his mouth.

“My ex isn’t a good person, god.. put it simply he was an abusive asshole, tore me apart for years. Physically and emotionally I only got out because I couldn’t live that way with my son.” She spoke, talking the smoke out of Ghosts hand as he offered it to her.

“Is that why you wear sleeves as a sense of safety, hate to make this about me to but maybe we’re the same in that way..” he said looking over at her as she took a drag of the cigarette.

“Mmhm, and you wear the mask because of im gonna take a guess, child hood abuse?” She spoke, he nodded.

“My Father..”

“My mother.” She said after.

“That woman couldn’t stand me, especially after my father passed not to mention when i got pregnant.” She laughed to herself.

It may have not been a funny moment but she was nervous she never really opened up about her abuse but now it was something she could talk about so easily, maybe because he had same type of experience? So the conversation went on as the shared the cigarette.

“I never will understand how a parent could do that to there own child… and then someone who you thought saved you from the situation only hurts you more.” Ghost spoke his head tilted up.

“Yeah well turns out my save was an ex marine with a drug problem.” She scoffed, “and yet I still find myself liking men in uniform.” She glanced over at him noticing the corner of his mouth.

“What? Whats got you all smirking Simon.” She pushed his arm lightly.

“Men in uniform?” He snuffled a small laugh.

“What can I say” she lifted her shoulders shrugging.

“God I haven’t even thought of a relationship for two years now up until recently.” She admitted.

“Oh?”

She felt the hair in her arms stand up at the way that rolled of his tongue, maybe she did find him attractive but doubt always sat in and the fear of said past relationship. But Simon would never put a hand on her. And she knew that.

“Yeah but I gotta focus on myself and my son.”

He hummed, so time is what she needed and he couldn’t blame her for it she went through hell and back but he was willing to wait.

“Better head back up. I got more boys to attend to.”She said.

He nodded, he stood up offering her a hand “lets go then.”

They stood there a minute a sweet smile displayed oh her lips. Her hand reached up to his face, his first instinct was to normally stop her but he didn’t feeling her bare hands touching his scared skin her thumb running gently over the scar on his cheek over to his lip. Her body close to him leaving barely any room, he could smell the cigarette smoke and coffee linger on her.

“You know for what is worth, you really are beautiful Simon.” She spoke barely above a whisper as she let her thumb run over his bottom lip.

His hand reached up grabbing her wrist, he didn’t move it but he held her. Something in him was crumbling under her touch he craved it not in a sexual way but in a way he needed the comfort. He felt his body let itself relax, She didn’t know how she made in crumble how she could anticipate his mood, she did know how bad in that moment he wanted to kiss her.

His eyes never left hers, she could see through him if she really desired to. She was truly astonishing.

But he could never giver her the world she deserved.

Here is one of the Ghost works!

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shun the Light - Ch 16 - Claws

Slow Burn | Refuge | Decision | Mend | Hunger | Thin Mints | The Garden | Philip | Moments | Full Moon pt 1 | Full Moon pt 2 | Tend | Absolution | The Talk | Scars | The Bunker |

Author's Notes: Another full moon? You betcha!

I hope things aren't moving too fast...I really want to get to the Big story moments, but I also worry I'm going too fast and missing some of those little day-to-day moments. But those also don't make for good chapters on their own so I try to slip them in with other things. That said if anyone has any questions about anything that might happened in between, feel free to message or ask!

Content Warnings: werewolf whumpee, painful transformation, imprisoned (voluntarily), self loathing, hand/finger/nail whump, blood, bruising, headache, angst

----

Dante shuts and bolts the bunker door with Matteo inside. As an additional precaution, at Matteo's request, he barricades it with a heavy desk he dragged from upstairs.

It feels wrong to trap him like this. The space is small and bare, no windows, nothing but concrete and metal. Even someone who isn't particularly claustrophobic would find it stifling.

But there's no point questioning the plan now. The full moon is minutes away, and Matteo insisted he wanted to do this. Now all Dante can do is wait.

-

The hours pass slowly and nothing Dante does to try to distract himself is enough. He pauses every so often to listen for sounds from downstairs, but is met only with eerie silence.

That shouldn't be a bad thing - the whole point is to keep the wolf contained - but regardless, Dante is restless and uneasy all night. The old house feels too much like it used to and he is forced to admit to himself that he enjoys Matteo's presence.

-

At dawn he is waiting, sitting on the desk in front of the door. This should be his bedtime, and even with all the curtains drawn getting to bed might be tricky, but he has to let Matteo out. When the warm glow of morning finally peeks under the door at the top of the stairs he is quick to jump down and shove the desk away, unbolt the door and fling it wide open.

Immediately his gaze falls on the figure collapsed face-down on one of the bare metal bedframes. Matteo is naked, having insisted that clothes were pointless and would just be destroyed. He is bruised, shaking, and Dante smells blood.

He sits at the edge of the bed and lays a hand on Matteo's back. To Dante's surprise, his skin is as warm as if he'd been laying in the sun for hours.

Matteo startles at Dante's cold touch. He opens his eyes and looks around blearily.

"Wh...where 'm I?"

"You're in the house, in the fallout shelter. You're safe."

Matteo closes his eyes and groans. "Ow..."

"What hurts?"

"Everything," Matteo chokes out, his emotions bubbling over as he wakes more and his pain comes into sharper focus. "M-my head, m-my whole - whole body - "

Matteo's head ends up in Dante's lap, face pressed against his stomach as he sobs. Dante's fingers end up in his hair like they belong there. He combs through the messy curls and scratches at his scalp with tenderness he didn't know he still possessed.

"You're safe," he repeats, "you're safe."

Matteo gradually calms. After a moment he lifts his head and tries to sit up.

"We should have - ah - left the mattresses on," he mumbles, rubbing at an indent where part of the metal frame dug into his bare skin. "That's worse than the forest floor."

Dante barely hears him.

"Your hands..."

"Huh? O-oh - "

Dante cradles Matteo's trembling hands in his own. His fingertips are torn and bleeding; some nails are cracked and others missing entirely.

Matteo whimpers, looking like he might break down again at any moment. He looks around the room and Dante follows his gaze across the walls, covered in bloody claw marks.

Dante's heart sinks. He really believed that Matteo would be safe here. What he didn't consider was that a trapped animal will gnaw off its own leg to escape. The wolf had tried to claw its way out, and when that didn't work, it had rammed the door several times, leaving Matteo with bruising across his back and shoulder.

"Dante," he pleads, and he doesn't need to say another word. Dante sinks his fangs into Matteo's wrist and gives him just enough to ease the pain. When Matteo starts to droop against him he stops, getting an arm around him and hauling him to his feet.

"Let's get you upstairs."

-

Matteo is silent while Dante cleans and bandages each of his fingers. He stares at the ceiling and tries to focus on breathing. He aches all over, his head hurts, he's hungry and thirsty...all the old familiar feelings he's had to begrudgingly accept.

But there are new feelings, too. A couch is so much better than the ground, the dim lighting so much easier on his pounding head than sunlight, he's covered in a soft blanket...and he's not alone.

"There. How's that?"

Matteo holds his hands up above his face. He bends and unbends his fingers and the bandages hold. The pain has dulled significantly.

"Good," he whispers. "Thank you..."

"What else do you need?"

Matteo sighs and lets his hands drop to his stomach. He tries to muster up a smile for Dante but falls short.

"To be put down, probably," he replies. "That's what people do with suffering animals."

Dante frowns. "You're not an animal and I'm not a people - I mean, a person. You know what I mean."

That gets a chuckle out of him. "Of course you're a person."

"Well then so are you."

Matteo gives in. "I guess...I'm pretty hungry. I got some stuff at the store last week, it's in the - the kitchen..."

He starts to sit up but Dante eases him back down by his shoulders. Before Matteo can argue a pair of shining silver eyes meet his.

"Rest," is the gentle command. "I'll get it."

Matteo has no choice but to lie back and be cared for. It's all he ever wanted on those mornings he woke up hurting and alone after a full moon. Dante, though shy and uncertain, is a calm and steadfast presence. He never complains, not even when he is visibly thirsty and tired himself. Guilt begins to gnaw at Matteo's heart, and with it, a question he has been afraid to ask:

Am I taking advantage of him?

[theslvttysimp]

》MC's Addicted Parents LUCIFER 《

TW: Substance abuse, hoarding, abandonment, arguing, throwing items in anger.

Scenario: You are a MC who grew up with parents who abused substances. Though you've been on your own for a while now, the trauma you've dealt with in the past still follows. Here is how Lucifer would react.

Lucifer was making his rounds doing his weekly room check. He'll pop his head in everyone's rooms to ensure no one is hiding forbidden items and to make sure no one's room is a wreck.

Of course your room passes, you can't stand a messy room. A messy room brings back memories you don't ever want to remember. Lucifer gives you a smile after checking your room and leaves, only to cone back 15 minuets later.

" MC, while doing room check I have noticed how much a pig sty Satan's room is. You will be going to his room and help him clean it up. He shuts the door, leaving you to get ready to tend his brother.

You automatically start to panic. You didn't like going in Satan's room. It's such a mess to the point where you can't even see the floor. You rub your face in acts to calm yourself down, pushing your memories to the back of your head. You grab a few rags and a broom to help him clean and make your way to Satan's room.

Once arriving at Satan's room, you notice Satan and Lucifer arguing over the condition Satan has allowed his room to get. Books scattered all over the floor, dust piling up, cats toys covering his bed ( yeah, Lucifer found the cats and his pissed.). You feel your heart pounding, trying to drown out the yelling going on, and start cleaning.

The yelling of both Satan and Lucifer is making NOTHING better. Memories of your parents high on drugs arguing comes flooding back to you. You feel like you're 13 again, frantically cleaning your house as your parents argue in the background. Tears start to roll down your cheeks, but you push through.

It's only when the Avatar of Wrath gets so angry that he throws a book across the room is when you finally snap. You drop whatever books are in your hand and cover your ears. You scream on top of your lungs " STOP YELLING! STOP STOP STOP! I CANT TAKE IT!" Your scream is blood curdling, you fall to your knees holding your ears, yelling and sobbing " NO MORE NO MORE!"

Satan and Lucifer slam to the floor ( your pact following your command, telling them to stop.) They both fall letting out a big grunt. Satan is lashing around on the ground trying to get back up, blind with rage. Lucifer, laying on the floor with his head turned looks at you with wide eyes and his mouth slightly agape. What happened? What has gotten into you?

You run out of Satan's pig sty, sprinting down the hall and go straight to your room. You slam the door shut and sit in the corner of your room. You're hugging your knees to your chest and sob. You feel like how you did years ago, stuck in your room. You used to sit in your room with your parents out of their mind on drugs arguing, hugging yourself for comfort in the quiet on your isolation. Voiceless and alone.

Half an hour later ( after Lucifer was able to stand up again), you hear a knock on your door. You reply with silence,but Lucifer comes in anyway.

Lucifer closes the door behind him and stands in front of you, assessing your condition. You keep your head on your knees, still silently crying to yourself.

He sits next to you on the floor with his back resting against the wall, leans the back of his head on the wall and looks straight ahead. " I assume you were displeased with the arguing beforehand. Is there something you want to speak about, dear?" His voice is so gentle. He remembers when viewing your records that you didn't have the best childhood.

You take a deep breath in and let out a long sigh. You try to calm your mind down and lift your head up, resting the back of your head against the wall. Lucifer takes this moment to take a glance at your face. Your cheeks are soaking wet from all the crying you've been doing. He grabs your hand and holds it, resting your held hand on his lap.

" When I was a kid, my parents were great. They used to play with me, take care of me, cook me meals all the time. They were so happy. Once I became a teenager..... they both started abusing substances. They stopped taking care of the house, they both lost their jobs, they stopped taking care of themselves..... and stopped taking care of me...." Your lip starts to quiver and your voice is shaky. " they would argue all the time.. I would try and keep the house clean, but I c-couldnt do it by m-myself." You start crying again.

Lucifer pulls you to an embrace, your bury your face in his chest and sob into his shirt. He rests his cheek on the top of your head and let's you cry it out. He doesn't care how loud you cry, how wet his shirt is, or how long you need to sit here. He wants you to let it out.

After a long time of crying, you finally calm down. He's rubbing your back up and down and whispers to you, " I am deeply sorry for invoking bad memories for you. That wax never my intention. I love you so very much, and I will never abandon you like your parents did. I am right here, I will always be right here."

You hug him tighter. The feeling of knowing you'll never be abandoned again brings you comfort. He kisses the top of your head and rests his cheek back on your head. You listen to his slow, loud heartbeat. From all the crying you did, you are oh so tired. The sound of his heart beating in your ear puts you to sleep in his arms.

Lucifer lets you sleep in his arms for a little while longer before picking you up and bringing you to his room. He lays you on his bed and tucks you in. He kisses your forehead and brings whatever paper he needs to do on the bedside. He begins doing paperwork next to you, ensuring that when you do eventually wake up, he'll be there to comfort you more.

He makes a silent promise to himself. He will never unintentionally make you feel thay way ever again, and he will never leave your side. He will never make you feel unwanted or abandoned, for you are stuck with him forever. It's his personal obligation to make sure you feel loved and appreciated for all eternity.

[sammy-writes-sometimes]

Word Count: 595

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“Jimmy, are you aware that you’re molting?” Tango asks bluntly.

“What?” He looks at them, confusion in his eyes. “I’m– I’m not a bird? I’m not even a hybrid, I’m just human!”

“Yeah? Well…” Fae points to the trail of bright, pretty-looking, golden feathers leading from the bed to the kitchen. “Explain that.”

Jimmy blinks, turning away from the pan in front of him as he simply stares.

Beside him, Tango leans against the counter. They seem to take him in, at least more than usual, but this time under an almost anxiety inducing glare.

Then, as Jimmy moves, the netherborn seems to wince. It’s an echo of pain as Jimmy rubs his shoulder, groaning slightly like he got hit by something.

“Jim, sit down for a bit, I can handle the pancakes and you can…” He twists his hand, leading back to the trail. “Clean up those, carefully.”

“Yeah, I’ll- I’ll do that…”

It doesn’t take long for the food to be finished, takes even less time for Jimmy to start picking up the feathers before he soon stops. Pain seeming to overcome the younger man, leaving him curled up in bed.

“Do you have chronic pain?” Tango asks simply.

“No? I’m just– I don’t know why, but it hurts a lot.”

Tango sighs before putting the plates to the side, they can worry about eating later when his soulmate isn’t in nearly as much pain.

That and after they’ve found out why this is all happening.

“Get on the bed and take off your shirt.”

“What?” Jimmy yelps.

The netherborn laughs. “Just– listen, I need to check something.”

He can’t help but find the dusting of pink, almost red, over Jimmy’s cheeks and ears at least a little adorable. But he does as told, shedding the fabric as–

His upper back is practically covered in feathers. Messy and uneven, looking like they’re never been preened a day in their life. Further upon this, some look to have small drops of blood on them, staining the gold underneath.

Jimmy lays on the bed with a groan, laying on his stomach as he hides his face in a pillow.

Once fae’re next to the bed, right beside Jimmy, fae hover a hand but… he’s in too much pain, likely wincing even at the smallest of touches.

“Did you know about this…?” He asks quietly.

JImmy remains silent, trying to hide even more.

“Did you– When did this happen? How long–”

“It wasn’t this bad last time!” Jimmy complains.

“‘This bad’? What do–”

“With– with every death, I’ve grown these feathers… it started on my second to last life last time, just a few, but– after we fell, and we respawned, there were more and–”

“You still should have–” Tango stops himself, fire crackling in his own ear.

They take a slow breath, evening out into some semblance of calm. At least by his usual standards.

“Sorry, you just– you worried me, Jimmy. Sorry…”

Tango places a hand onto their partner’s lower back, rubbing a gentle circle until he feels Jimmy melt into the touch.

“Do you want me to help with them? Some of the pain might be coming from unclean feathers and, according to Skizz, those tend to hurt a lot.”

“Please?” Jimmy whimpers, and if it hadn’t been for his partner’s obvious pain, or how worry is spinning in every single thought, he’d probably be getting other ideas.

“Alright, just stay still, can’t promise that this won’t hurt you.”

Jimmy stays quiet, but turns his head to smile up at Tango. “Thank you…”

[blindmagdalena]

First question: How are you? I hope you are doing as well as can be considering the circumstances.

Second: This has been ruminating in my mind for a bit but how do you think Homelander's hygiene is? I have OCD (with a focus on germs and organization) and it got me wondering about him.

Considering he was raised in a sterile lab I feel like it could go either way, as he could be super hygienic (outside of the blood of others that is) or an utter slob without Vought cleaners and organizers lol.

I've known people who grew up in those extremes, and they tend to rebel or continue in those practices (hoarding, obsessive cleansing, etc).

you're so sweet, i'm doing better each day! thank you 🖤

i'm always very much of the mind that Homelander has a lot of sensory issues that mess and poor hygiene would exacerbate, but by no means do i think Homelander is bothered by getting messy. at least not when it comes to getting his hands (and face...and hair... and mouth...) dirty. the number of times we see him covered in person slurry rises every season.

but when it comes to his home, his suite is not cluttered at all. it's tidy and organized. his bed is made. i think in general he's a pretty tidy guy. granted, i don't think he's the one doing any of that cleaning. i'm sure Vought staff handles that. still, it tells me that's how he prefers his space to be.

so my thoughts are that Homelander isn't a germaphobe by any means, but i do think he's a "showers daily" type. especially if he's spent the day bumping shoulders and taking selfies and doling out charming celebrity hugs to dozens upon dozens of sweaty civilians whose array of stink is lingering on him.

[tobyislame]

some more ticci toby headcanons

once again consider this a headcanon salad i'm still figuring out how to format these

- in my canon he's from minnesota. he just feels like a minnesotan

- also in my canon he lives in a shoddy little abandoned cabin in the woods (header image is along the lines of what i think it would look like). the mansion still exists he just chooses not to reside there cus he'd much rather have his own space that he can control

- never has the big lights on in his house cus it makes him crazy. instead there's just headless lamps/lanterns/candles strewn all over

- best believe the place is messy as shit. imagine if a 16 year old boy was allowed to be a homeowner. yea pretty fucking vile right

- his place just smells like raw wood and weed you walk in it just slaps you in the face

- all of his clothes have that vague cigarette smell on them

- he smells like pinecones and wet soil (on a good day)

- thinks axe masks the fact that he hardly showers unfortunately

- also thinks just using mouthwash is the same as brushing your teeth unfortunately

- honestly he's just super shit at taking care of himself, especially since his body lacks the tools to queue him in on some stuff

- like how cipa causes him not to feel hunger. he can't recognize when he's hungry so he often goes way too long between meals

- he has a little notebook where he keeps track of when he eats. it's meant to help him know when he should eat something but he consistently forgets to keep up with it

- he just isn't equipped with any of the tools necessary to take care of himself, both physically and mentally. he's in pretty bad shape, some extra help would probably do him good

- realistically with how much he disregards self-preservation he'd be fucking dead by now so he isn't entirely helpless. he knows he's accident-prone so he keeps first aid shit with him at all times, he knows blood means bad and that he should probably stop what he's doing that is making the blood happen, he knows to scan over himself every once in a while to check for unnoticed injuries and such, etc etc.

- cus of the gaping gash in his cheek he has to eat foods that are compatible with his disfigurement. he also always has to drink through a straw

- he does not like waffles. he does like pancakes however

- interestingly those with cipa have a lower sensitivity to capsaicin so he eats spicy stuff like a fuckin CHAMP. someone gave him one of those samyang noodles to try yk the one that's hot as BALLS and he was just like "i mean yea it's good"

- he's kind of just always covered head to toe with bandages. i think he'd have an excoriation (skin picking) disorder so he HAS to keep his arms and hands wrapped up, otherwise he'll just obsessively pick/bite/gnaw at his skin

- the rest of his body is perpetually scattered with bandaids and such on account of how scraped up he gets just being himself

- on the night of The Incident he got caught up in the fire. flaring up his chest and a section of the left side of his body are burn scars. there are a conglomerate of reasons as to why toby doesn't like to have his shirt off in front of ANYBODY and that's just one of them

- his motor tics tend to be on the more violent side (throwing things, hitting himself, hitting others, etc). however, he's learned how to sort of guide his tics from being one thing to another if that makes sense? idk i'm speaking from my own experience here and tics are a really difficult thing to put into words but like. if he can tell he's about to throw the thing that's in his hand he'll take that feeling and try to turn it into something smaller, so instead of throwing the thing a less destructive tic will occur instead. if any of that made sense

- more often than not he's got an earbud in or his headphones on listening to music. he finds that it makes it much easier for him to make his way through the world. that and when he's listening to music he's noticed that he hardly ever tics (usually) so yk that's also a bonus

- spends a lot of his time climbing trees and hanging out in them. also spends a lot of his time trying to make friends with the animals of the forest. he's gotten a lot better at knowing how to approach raccoons and possums and stuff. he likes to leave food out for birds and squirrels and such

- it's funny because he tries to be this hard-ass dude but as soon as he spots a deer he becomes the most gentle thing on earth in that moment. he'd probably grab your shoulders whispering all like "oh dude deer- shhh shh" and force you to crouch with him and stuff lmao

- he's dubbed the one rabbit in those woods that isn't afraid of him "dandy warhol". yea he's real good with names

- he leaves food trails for dandy that lead to his house because he thinks that's how people get pets. he does not realize he's also leading every other animal in that forest to his home

- he may be stupid .

[tired-biscuit]

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: odontophilia (teeth fetish), oral fixation. biting, lots of kissing, mentions of oral sex (f!receiving), very self-indulgent stuff. // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 0.8k

masterlist

Thinking about Kiba, well, his teeth, specifically.

Besides his keen sense of smell, they are Kiba's pride and joy - his teeth. Are a part of him that makes him visually unique, when compared to other cute boys you know. Are something he tends to show off, which can be expected if you take his rather complacent personality into account.

To be honest, it's all fair and justified. Being blessed with a pretty set like that, who wouldn't grin as wide as he does whenever he doesn't feel like wearing his signature scowl? Who wouldn't show them off a little? He can't even be blamed for it.

And as for you, well, you also love Kiba's teeth. Perhaps even more than he does.

His mouth moves constantly after all, always doing something - anything, tugging at your attention. You just can't help but love how his pearly whites light up his entire face when his smile becomes almost too big for it, and two adorable dimples form in his cheeks as a result.

Love how he has a tendency to drag his tongue along the front of them whenever he's thinking really hard - which is rare, but surprisingly possible if he actually tries. Love how he uses them to chew on those hard candies he likes so much with zero effort whatsoever, making his entire mouth taste like strawberries and tinting it bright red just like the fruit, too.

And besides all of that, you also love how his teeth sometimes click against your own whenever he pulls you in for a hasty kiss. Love how they make a thrill surge through your center whenever your own tongue traces the pointy ends of the fangs he's always been so proud of, and your kisses turn way more feverish because of it.

Love how your body grows hot as he sinks them into your bottom lip every once in a while; sometimes even drawing blood if he gets too eager and impatient during the long make out sessions you make him have with you. All of that.

And you swear that they grow even bigger whenever you play with him and test his already thin line of patience during those sessions; kissing him and grinding against him as you sit on his lap, turning him absolutely insatiable.

His canines start glistening with drool, flashing you their sharpness each time he pulls back to part his lips and take a deep breath. And they look so fucking appealing; those wretched fangs of his. They draw you right in, make you force him to open his mouth a fraction wider, so that you can slip your tongue inside and just lick them whilst your hands caress his face to keep him still; fingers tangling into his thick chestnut hair to try and turn him docile for a change.

And he groans as you do it - as you lick his teeth. He groans, and curses, and bucks his hips into yours like an animal, especially when your lips purse slightly and you start to suck on his incisor. As you turn so messy, multiple thin strings of saliva connecting your panting mouths that you simply refuse to allow to part. As you glide your tongue over and over across the damn fang; until you're so delirious that you cut yourself against it and the taste of iron pools into his mouth and drives him completely insane.

He flips you both around then, because enough is fucking enough, and pins you against the mattress in a matter of seconds. He uses his weight to keep you still, starts covering you in bite marks and lewd hickeys that only stop paving their prominent paths down your body when he feels the need to scold you for fucking around by whispering the dirtiest of things only he could come up with into your ear.

And then his head winds up between your legs, your hands fisting his hair again, and you're squirming on top of the bed; crying because it hurts whenever he bites and nips at the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, but it hurts so good.

He eases the ache by licking it and blowing cool air onto it, repeating the same painful process over and over again, until you promise that you won't drive him up the wall like that ever again, that you just can't help it, that his teeth are just too pretty.

And when your waterline is burning because of the constant tears, and your mouth is running on never-ending apologies and compliments, legs shaking from the occasional languid swipe of tongue he gives to your sticky little cunt that's so needy you might just burst, he laughs.

"Are you gonna cum for me if I give you a big smile, pretty?" he says, sinking two of his thick fingers inside you; stretching your tiny, drenched hole. "Mm? Are ya gonna spill if I grin just for you?"

You're nodding frantically, your hands pressed against your tits as you're trying to calm down your sobbing and quick-paced breaths.

And the moment he obliges, finally gifting you the grin; you're done for.