#does this count as monster fucking

[cloverfieldds]

vampire sub who whimpers and begs their dom for just a drop please theyll be so good just a small drop of blood please please p

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Hi! I love your erik!! Hes so sad and pathetic :(

was wondering how erik would react to having a vampire in love with him:

would he be scared to atract a monsters attention or overjoyed to have someone who loves him?

How would he feel about the vamp being possesive and jealous?(like anyone would want to steal him from them)

Imagine erik, who believed himself to be repulsive, having a vampire lover who is obsessed with his blood, saying its the best they ever tasted and that hes irresistible

pathetic men are the best thing this world has to offer. warnings/tags-Self-loathing Erik, Soft Horror Elements, Blood Drinking (Consensual), Slow Burn, Unmasking, Dark Fantasy, Enemies to Devoted Lovers, Angst and Comfort, Protective/Jealous Reader, Monster x Monster dynamic, Found Love in Darkness, Mutual Devotion, Reader is Scary but Tender word count- 1129

The Opera House sleeps beneath the shroud of midnight. Only the rats and restless ghosts stir in the velvet-lined shadows. You watch from the darkness, unseen, as Erik stands at the edge of the underground lake, candlelight flickering across the surface like a hymn made of gold.

He hums—low and delicate—spilling music into silence. He thinks he’s alone.

He never is. Not when you’re near.

You speak before he senses you. “You’re humming again.”

His spine stiffens. His voice is bitter when he answers, though the tension in his shoulders softens a fraction. “Do you intend to haunt me tonight as well?”

You smile faintly. “Haunt? I prefer the word visit.”

“I prefer you didn’t.”

A lie. You both know it.

You step forward, boots silent on the stone. “And yet I come.”

You circle him slowly, drinking in the shape of him. Cloaked, masked, as always. But you see beneath it. You always have.

You stop beside him, close enough to catch the rhythm of his heart. So fast. So alive.

“I dreamed of your voice again,” you murmur. “Even in sleep, it sings in me. You do that to me, Erik.”

He doesn’t look at you. “Is that why you come here? To torment me with false praise?”

“False?” Your lips twitch. “I’ve tasted emperors. Touched the throats of queens. But you…” You don’t touch him—yet—but your fingers hover near his neck, reverent. “You sing like divinity weeping into a man’s bones. And your blood…”

You close your eyes, letting the memory stir your hunger.

“The sweetest thing I’ve ever known.”

He turns away sharply, his cape billowing like wings. “Don’t—don’t speak to me of blood.”

“I speak of you,” you say. “The blood is merely a part of it. A gift wrapped around something greater.”

His shoulders hunch. “You speak of me like I’m nothing more than a vein to feed from.”

You step in front of him, gently. “No. You’re the obsession. The blood just... reminds me you’re real.”

Your eyes trace his form, aching. “I would carve out hearts for you. I’d rip the breath from anyone who looked too long at you. Anyone who thinks they deserve you more than I do.”

Erik’s breath stutters. “No one desires me.”

“I do.”

He looks at you, searching for mockery. You let him search.

He finds only reverence.

He steps back, as if trying to escape it. “What if I told you I wished to be alone?”

“Then I would sit at the edge of your solitude. I wouldn’t enter... but I’d never leave.”

You mean it. Every word.

He pulls off his mask, suddenly, with a flourish and fire in his voice. “Look at me! Look at what you claim to love!”

You do.

You always have.

You step forward and kiss the scarred cheek. Slowly. Gently.

“Beautiful,” you whisper against his skin.

He shudders like it physically hurts to be touched with tenderness.

“You’re mad,” he breathes.

“Perhaps. But so are you. That’s why we fit.”

The nights pass.

You bring him small things: rare sheet music, blood-red roses that never wilt, the occasional stolen music box. Mostly, you bring yourself. And he, for all his protests, never sends you away.

He composes. You sit in the dark and listen. He pretends not to notice how closely you watch his hands.

He snaps, sometimes. Hurls words like knives.

You let them strike.

And return the next night anyway.

One evening, while he scribbles notes on parchment, you run your fingers along the strings of his violin. He turns, sharply.

“You’ve no right to touch that.”

You smirk. “Are you jealous, Maestro?”

“Of what?”

“That your violin felt my hands before you did.”

He stares at you, helpless.

“You’re insufferable.”

You approach him, slow as fog. “I know.”

He steps back until his spine hits the piano.

You trap him there, one hand braced beside his head, the other at his waist.

“You told me once that no one wanted you.” Your voice is soft, dangerous. “Do you know how many I’ve killed for less than the sound of your voice?”

His breathing quickens. “I’m not worth that.”

“To me,” you say, brushing your fingers under his mask strap, “you’re worth entire cities set aflame.”

Your lips hover near his ear. “Do you know how hard it is not to taste you again?”

His throat bobs. “You already drank once. You said that was enough.”

“I lied.” You pull back to meet his eyes. “You were the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever touched. It took everything in me to stop—not because I feared killing you… but because I feared I wouldn’t want to stop.”

He grips the edge of the piano so tightly his knuckles pale.

“Why me?” he whispers. “Why not someone... better? Brighter?”

You blink, stunned by the question. “Because you are made of shadow, like me. And yet you create light. Music. Beauty. You are everything I can’t be.”

His voice drops. “Would you kill anyone who tried to love me?”

Your eyes flash. “Without hesitation.”

He shivers. He should fear you.

Instead... he leans in.

“Do you belong to me, then?” he asks, voice ragged.

You don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He lifts a trembling hand and touches your face.

“Then feed,” he says.

You pause, surprised. “You mean it?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You step forward, gently, reverently cupping his neck. You feel his pulse under your fingertips—fast, trusting.

“Tell me to stop,” you murmur, “and I will.”

“I won’t.”

You sink your fangs in.

He gasps and clutches at you, his knees weakening. It’s not pain he feels. It’s... something else. Surrender. Music in his blood.

You draw just enough to make his body sing beneath your hands—then stop.

When you pull away, you’re breathless. Dizzy.

“I could lose myself in you,” you say.

He touches your cheek. “Then be lost with me.”

And you kiss him—gently, for once. Not in hunger. Not in frenzy.

But in devotion.

You sleep beside him now.

Sometimes wrapped in his cape, sometimes on the piano bench while he dozes. He never used to sleep. Now he lets himself drift, head resting against your shoulder, trusting you to guard his dreams.

One night, he murmurs, “Will you ever leave me?”

You press your lips to his forehead. “Never.”

“And if I grow old, and you do not?”

“I’ll guard your grave until time forgets your name.”

He shudders. “Would you turn me?”

You still. “If you asked.”

He nods, slowly. “Not yet. But maybe one day.”

You smile, your heart aching in your chest.

For now, he is human. Fragile. Brilliant. Yours.

And you—monster, immortal, devoted—are his.

And in the darkness beneath the Opera House, two impossible things find sanctuary in each other.

[rdiowx]

Autism

We’re married

[kringle-c]

cant post porn on tumblr so im just going to give this tasteful crop and a link to it on bluesky

[eatorfuck]

Yoda was a legendary Jedi Grand Master who led the Jedi Order through the time of the High Republic, in the years leading up to its destruction by the Sith, and during the transformation of the Galactic Republic into the Galactic Empire. Small in stature but revered for his wisdom and power, Yoda trained generations of Jedi, ultimately serving as the Jedi Order's Grand Master. He played integral roles in defending the Republic during the Clone Wars, survived Order 66, and lived to passed on the Jedi tradition to Luke Skywalker, and unlocking the path to immortality.

[puppetmaster13u]

Hey You Want Some Moth Batfam Sketches?

Why yes, literal moth-people-slash-creature batfamily. Yes, they do start out more caterpillar-like at first. And yes they still have their capes even with wings. Anyway here's what each are inspired by lol. Highly recommend looking up pictures because they're all great.

Bruce (Melanistic Silk Moth) Barbara (Luna Moth) Dick (Blue Day Moth) Cass (Black Zale Moth) Jason (Cecropia Moth) Steph (Rosy Maple Moth) Tim (Cinnabar Moth) Duke (Madagascar Moon Moth) Damian (Oleander Hawk-Moth) Carrie (Orange Swift Moth)

[willbyersfreakout]

Headcanon whatever you want but I truly believe that the fun of billford comes from bill being about as non-human as it gets. Like Ford fucked a TRIANGLE and you’re passing that up for another twink ???

[talesfromnatea]

Genuinely how is Jin Guangyao the only Jin to be born with a functioning brain what the fuck

[see-arcane]

I'm going to lose my mind.

Eggers. Bobby Egg. Buddy.

No. Very much no.

[celustine1]

very self indulgent doodle. alternates are just kitty cat 🐈‍⬛

[terubakudan]

Playing dating sims be like:

✨ Rizzing ✨ the Love Interest:

Getting ✨ rizzed ✨ by the Love Interest:

[red-dyed-sarumane]

if ur "hear me out"s include human characters i'm assuming u have absolutely no idea what ur doing and have misunderstood the assignment completely

[the-weeping-dawn]

Sometimes. Just the one text post.

[maeamian]

It's not important to any real degree but boy I wish I didn't know how gears worked because seeing them drawn in a way that wouldn't work is somehow like nails on a chalkboard to my brain.

[f1uff3rnutt3r]

M4N 1M H4V1NG 4 L0T 0F FUN 0N T1KT0K💯💯💯

❄️❄️❄️1 F0UND TH1S V1D30 US1NG 4UD10 FR0M Y401 0N 1C3❄️❄️❄️

1TS C00L 4S FUCK‼️‼️‼️

[bom-bombon]

i think i deserve like 1 million dollars from everyone in the US who were spewing racist shit during the 2016 elections