#human leather my beloved

[girlhood-extreme]

I love rimworld cause its like the calmest and tamest game at times but its also the most batshit insane game ever. you srtart out like planting rice and stuff and building and youre like "oh this is cool its like a farming simulator." then, you discover the "harvest left lung" option,

[satans-knitwear]

You're one of many things I shouldn't do.

My links

[wildsaltair]

not enough words in the English language to explain how much I need him right this second

[jaythes1mp]

This is my first official post, and idk how to feel about it. So any and all comments & reblogs are really appreciated. If it’s bad please comment so I know I have to delete it🙏

Your secrets are ours, Kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH1 -> CH2 -> CH3 -> CH4 -> CH5 -> CH6 -> CH7 -> CH8 -> CH9 -> CH10

Nightwing, who’s known for his impressive acrobatic skills and crime-fighting abilities, has become a prominent figure in the city of Blüdhaven. Renowned for his fearless approach to taking down criminals and has gained a notable reputation among the superhero community.

The guy's identity is a complete mystery, though. Nightwing works alone, leaving many of us to wonder who the man behind the mask really is. — Some say he has connections to Gotham City’s own famous vigilante, Batman.

When the young hero is seen in action, he can be often spotted leaping from rooftops and engaging in daring acts of superheroism, leaving criminals and citizens alike in awe of his skill and courage. Some question if he's a human or something more, while others simply look on in admiration. Despite the secrecy surrounding his identity, Nightwing's reputation seems to grow endlessly.

Then there’s Red Hood, the dark and brooding vigilante of Gotham City, a fearsome sight to behold. His red mask and signature pistols make him easily recognizable, and his actions leave criminals trembling in terror.

Some have speculated him being a former criminal reforming his ways while I believe that he too has ties to our one and only Batman. Despite his dark demeanor and ruthless tactics, it seems clear to me that there is a connection between the two. There has been a lot of evidence submitted for their collaboration, even if they choose to deny it publicly. Though, Batman, known for his strict code of ethics, would not typically associate himself with someone as morally ambiguous as Red Hood. But the circumstantial evidence is too compelling to ignore.

Regardless, Red Hood's impact on the criminal underworld is undeniable. He uses violence and intimidation to enforce his own brand of justice, which is rather admirable, yet causing many to question his brutal methods.

Next up is our one and only Batman himself, the dark knight of Gotham City. He’s a mystery in itself. His tall, imposing stature is enough to strike fear into the hearts of criminals, and his reputation as a master detective and fighter only enhances his mystique.

I have been trying to piece together the puzzle that is Batman's identity. Who is the man under the mask? What drives him to take on Gotham's criminals with such determination?

Though the billionaire Bruce Wayne has long been suspected as the man behind the mask, no concrete evidence has ever been presented. His true identity remains a puzzle, something that adds to his allure and intrigue. Every lead I follow seems to hit a dead end. The playboy is too obvious, too niche. What would motivate a Wayne, someone brought up into filthy wealth, who wastes his money on grand galas and prostitutes, into defending this city? The theory is too far reached.

Next are Red Robin and Robin. Batman’s sidekick-associates. Their partnership with Batman has been evident in their actions and fighting style. However, a rumour has been running around, theorising that the newer Robin was a young child when he had first joined Batman at his side.

Would our beloved hero really force a minor into sighting the dark dangerous streets of Gotham? Would he_

As you sat uncomfortably at the countertop of your kitchen, typing away on your laptop, you were suddenly interrupted by the unexpected sound of someone clearing their throat. You look up from the bright screen to see your roommate standing in the doorway, arms crossed. You raise an amused brow, a grin tugging at your lips at the sight of the other male in pyjamas rather than the usual broody black clothes and leather jacket. You click save and shut off the computer, turning fully to face him. “Yes, Jayson dear?”

Jason’s nose scrunches at the name, even as he stands in the doorway wearing nothing but a thin, well-worn shirt and pants. He looks like a child, which is somehow more than a little endearing. His eyes flickering up and down your frame as he appraises you. Despite the relaxed state his attire provides, his expression is as serious as ever. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of the worn flannel pants he’s sporting, but it does little to make him look anything other than intimidating.

He raises a brow, tilting his head as he looks at you, watching you save your work and then turn to face him. “Don’t ‘yes, Jayson dear’ me, smartass.”

You snort, moving off of the chair and stretching out, the cracks in your back loud enough for him to purse his lips at. “Well aren’t you sour this fine morning.”

Jason scoffs, narrowing his eyes. “It’s four am.” He mutters, crossing the kitchen to get to the coffee pot. He doesn’t really need the caffeine, but he likes the routine. He grabs a mug from one of the cabinets, filling it up with black coffee. He’d just snuck back in after his patrol, not expecting to see you up.

“And I’m not sour,” he says a bit petulantly, taking a sip of the coffee before setting it aside. “I’m concerned.”

Your brow raises higher, turning to the worn down clock practically glued to the wall from all the times you’ve both hit it to get the ticking sound to shut off. It’s a digital, why does it need to make such an annoying sound? “Huh. I guess it is.”

He rolls his eyes, not at all surprise that you would lose track of time so easily when you got lost in your writing. “Yeah, you do that sometimes,” he grumbles, taking another sip of coffee.

He looks you over, studying you intently as he crosses his arms. “How long have you been working?”

You hum, looking out the window into the polluted skies of Gotham. The sun had risen. “What answer will make you the least angry?”

“None of them,” Jason says, a scoff escaping his lips. His jaw twitches slightly as he watches you stare out the window, and he can’t help noticing how tired you look. He’s seen you like this before, pushing yourself to the brink just to finish a project, just to get everything perfect.

“How long?” he asks again, his voice a little softer this time.

“...” you sigh, looking away from the window to face him once more. “All night.” Before he can open his mouth to reprimand you, you cut in. “But! My project is due today. And Tim will decapitate me if I’m late on another assignment...” You rub the side of your face tiredly, displaying an uneven smile.

Jason’s annoyance melts away into concern as you speak. He can tell you’re exhausted, and the thought of you pushing yourself so hard for so long makes him want to wrap you up in a blanket and force you to take a nap.

But he can’t do that. Not when you’re an adult, not when you’re not actually his little sibling. Yet. He settles for crossing the kitchen and putting a hand on your shoulder. “You need to take care of yourself,” he says firmly. “You won’t be any good to your professor if you pass out from exhaustion.”

You grin softly and give a tired nod, fishing out your phone to check the university’s time table. “I only have to go in at nine forty.”

“And then you only have to endure a full day of classes,” Jason says dryly, narrowing his eyes. He gently takes your phone out of your hand and tucks it into his pocket. “No more work until then.”

Your eyes widen at the action, quickly scrambling to get the device back. “You– Jay!” You huff, leaning back against the hard counter. His gaze set sternly on you. You feel small under his gaze, as if he’s your father disappointed in you for stealing a tenner.

Jason crosses his arms once more, his eyes never leaving your face. Looking like the definition of a disapproving older brother. “No,” he says firmly, his voice stern. “You need to rest. I can’t have you passing out in the middle of class.”

He takes a step closer, looming over you as he stares you down. “You’re gonna take a nap, and then you’re gonna eat a proper breakfast. Got it?”

You can do nothing but glare. Cursing under your breath and walking past him. You’ll have to complain to Tim about this later.

He watches you stalk past him, a smirk on his face. He can practically hear you swearing at him in your head. He takes a moment to finish off his coffee before following you into the living room.

“What, no clever comeback? No witty remark?” he teases, leaning against the wall and watching you storm into the living room. “Are you actually listening to me for once?”

You make a show of laying down on his red beanbag, tugging the blanket off of the couch to drape over your form and throwing up the middle finger at him.

Jason can’t help but chuckle at your childish display. He moves towards you slowly, stopping when he’s close enough to look down at your face. He crouches down beside you, a smirk on his lips. He places your laptop on the table opposite you and your phone next to it.

“Real mature, kid.” He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He ruffles your hair then stands, descending back into the kitchen. “I’ll wake you up an hour before you gotta leave, don’t worry.”

You sigh, mimicking him in an exaggeratedly high pitched voice. “I’ll wake you up an hour before you have to leave, mehmeheh.”

No use of y/n, currently gn leaning towards male.

Things to note: reader is unaware that the Batfamily members are related yet, age is young adult (19-20), everyone is aged up.

Any questions or feedback is appreciated.

[coralinnii]

"Eyes are Windows to the Soul"

↳ Admiring your Dark Brown eyes

feat: Idia ❋ Sebek ❋ Kalim ❋ Trey genre: fluff note: no pronouns were used for reader, set before Book 7 (mostly because I haven’t finished it yet),

Idia grew up sheltered in a sterile world, filled with LED lights and sleek metal walls. Shades of brown were not common in his daily routine, so he didn’t have a lot of opinions on it. 

In a world of neon blue and cold silver, your brown eyes ironically stood out in Idia’s world. 

Your eyes remind him of fluffy brown kittens, filled with warmth and mischief. You remind him of those adorable teddy bear prizes in claw machines that everyone covets. You were everything he dreams of holding, but often out of reach.

That is until the two of you grew closer, then he sees your eyes in the ice-cold colas he’s chugging during long grinding sessions with you. He feels a tingling sensation when he sees your eyes in the dry autumn leaves crunching beneath his feet whenever you drag him out to “touch some grass” 

Your brown eyes remind him of everything fluffy and warm, of fuzzy feelings and snugness. 

Your eyes give off energy, but it’s not scary or overwhelming at all. Rather, it’s soft and enjoyable like a refreshing drink on a hot day.

You seem so out of place in his old world, but Idia couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore.

”Uggh, that cat is just too cute, what a sensory overload! Huh, when did brown cats become my fav? I-I guess kinda recently?”

Sebek holds himself with prestige and integrity, a well-kept man with honor to uphold. 

But his experience is filled with the great wilderness, with the natural and unbending beauty of the forest. He proudly recalls his childhood living close to the world of fae and nature. 

You were a human. Your upbringing was nothing like his own, a pair of opposites with nothing in common

But, when you look at him with your sweet brown eyes, Sebek sometimes feels lost in nostalgia. In your eyes, he sees the beautiful trees of his homeland, he sees his beloved worn-out books in his bookshelves passed down by his grandfather. 

Not only his childhood memories, Sebek feels the same feeling of familiarity in his current lifestyle. He’s reminded of the joy and excitement he feels when he trusts his whole self to the majestic brown horses in the campus wooden stables. 

Is it because just like his trusted steed, your warm brown eyes effortlessly shine with so much strength?

Lost in your eyes, he recalls feelings of comfort and home, a connection to what makes Sebek…himself. Though he may not admit it, the stubborn young man finds solace just by staring into your eyes.

"Do I ever feel homesick? Of course I do! I simply… haven’t been feeling all that distant from my homeland as of late”

Kalim is not only surrounded by shades of brown, but also reds, yellows, greens, and everything else in the large spectrum of color. His world is bright and vibrant, never a dull moment for the boisterous heir. 

You fit right into his life, adding more happiness to his routine. Your existence gave off a sense of wholesome, sweet fun. You join him in his highs yet keep him grounded when he flies too close to the Sun

To anyone else, Kalim lacks nothing in terms of riches. He is financially blessed for generations to come, and Kalim is not ignorant enough to deny otherwise. 

But lately, whenever he watches you, he ponders on what the word “rich” truly meant to him. 

Some would call your brown eyes pretty but rather plain, but regardless Kalim would catch himself swimming in the hue of your irises. 

In your eyes, he sees the deep color of expensive cognac that many would gift his parents, he sees the color of flawless leather prized by countless merchants, and he sees the color of fertile soil that nurtures and feeds his country. 

If someone were to ask his opinion, Kalim would say that richness and pricelessness could be defined by your eyes. Kalim may have an abundance of gold and silver but there is no price that could compare to the look of pure love in your exquisite eyes.

"Have you ever seen a chocolate diamond before? They’re really pretty with a wonderful shine. I really like them, I’ll show you one someday!”

While he isn’t against dabbling in certain subjects and interests, Trey has a pretty solid idea of his future, to become a patissier and to either inherit his family's bakery or start his own business. 

Trey doesn’t see himself as anyone extravagant nor does he really want to be. Sure, he may be in a prestigious school, and he may hold an enviable position as a vice-Housewarden, but the green-haired senior holds himself more modestly. 

You knew well of his humble dream, and he appreciated the way you would support him however you can, be it a taste tester for new recipes or assisting him in the kitchen before a busy unbirthday party. 

In this close proximity, Trey is allowed more chances to glance your way, especially your eyes. 

He sees the resemblance in your eyes the color of the chestnuts you collected with the mischievous freshmen, the first day he noticed how cute you were. He’s reminded of warm brownies and cookies he would bake in secret just for you, all to see those very eyes sparkle. He imagines a brick house in the same shade as your eyes, where he’ll live out his peaceful life with you.

In your warm brown eyes, he feels reassurance and security. Trey doesn’t need a lavish lifestyle or a grand plan. All he could wish for is a life where he could bake cakes and pay taxes with you.

“I’m not exactly the most romantic with words, but I do like your eyes. They remind me of…my oven. Ah, that sounded a bit…” 

[lavandulawrites]

Undeserving

Yandere Zhongli x reader

Zhongli is definitely a terrifying yandere.

Synopsis: Zhongli takes it upon himself to rid the world of those who sin

Masterlist

Warnings: explicit violence,torn limbs, kinda gory, Zhongli is very possessive, Zhongli is completely feral, reader is not directly involved with any of the violence

Word count: 2223

Zhongli had always seen himself as a reasonable man. Even before he had taken on the name Zhongli. He valued respect and honour. Zhongli had always held a fondness for contracts and their power. He often preferred to negotiate rather than fighting. It was more proper after all.

It was however in moments like this, his polished appearance faltered and revealed the beast within that had slain many.

His glowed fingers loosened his tie before he elegantly slipped off his leather gloves. He placed both his tie and his gloves on the mantle on the unlit fireplace. He slowly turned to face the sinner that sat on his newly bought antique armchair. Zhongli’s skin crawled at the sight of that vermin who had made himself extremely comfortable in his beloved chair.

The man whose name was Haoyu sipped on a cup of pipping hot tea. He showed no care for Zhongli’s possessions and handled the cup with much carelessness.

Zhongli clenched his fists behind his back. Though a dragon was only one of his many forms, his bloodlust was still ever present. His fanged teeth clenched together as he recalled the days he had used those teeth to tear out his enemies throats. No matter what kind of form Zhongli took, his golden reptile like eyes and his long sharp fangs was something he never managed to conceal.

He walked over to the chair which was opposite of Haoyu’s. His steps no different from a stalking predator. With elegance he sat down and crossed his legs. He leaned back in his chair as he picked up his own cup of tea. He inhaled the aroma and sighed him delight at the delicious smell. The tea hot and intense as it filled his throat.

“Do you have any ideas for your brother’s funeral? Or any specific wishes for the ceremony?” he asked the black haired man.

Haoyu rubbed his goatee while he drummed his fingers on the armrest. “I don’t have any specific wishes. I just want to have him buried as fast as possible. I am a busy man you see” his voice had the same pitch as that of an squealing pig.

“I see” Zhongli nodded. “As for payment, the director wants to know when you are able to pay” he continued with an almost bored voice.

“Soon. I just need to make sure my next business deal goes well. So maybe in a week or two. Two is more likely” the bearded man shrugged.

Zhongli’s golden eyes narrowed before he chuckled. “Director Hu Tao needs the payment before Friday, meaning in three days. I have told you so many times” his smiled forced. The director of the funeral parlour was a remarkable young woman. Her youthfulness made Zhongli almost feel young again and he enjoyed her company. He acted as her counsellor and a kind of guardian. Though the guardian part was something that had happened over time.

Zhongli’s appearance was youthful and he looked somewhere in his early to mid thirties. Despite that, his wisdom was greater than all of the elderly in the city combined. He knew that Hu Tao suspected that he wasn’t human, but he never addressed it.

“I don’t think I will be able to” the middle aged man shrugged. He sipped more of his tea and didn’t notice how he spilled some on his shirt.

The former geo archon’s eyes turned cold. His finger stabbing the inside of his palms. “You will have to find a way. We can’t propound the payment any longer.”

Haoyu sighed. “Don’t be so difficult! I’m sure you’ll be able to do something” he winked his goat like eyes at the brunette.

Zhongli felt offended at the ugliness that sat in front of him. “No. I am not able to ‘do something’” his voice monotone. If Zhongli wanted to, he would be able to convince Hu Tao to propound the payment, but he did not feel like doing so.

The man sneered. “Fine” he groaned like the pig he was. He downed the last of his tea and slammed it onto the newly polished mahogany table.

Zhongli’s eyes twitched at the blatantly rudeness. He took a deep breath before he rose to his feet. “I remember I told you about my collection of tableware. I should give you a tour before you leave” he smiled politely at the irritated man.

Haoyu’s frown quickly turned into a smile. “Oh I would love that” he stood up and stretched his limbs, nearly knocking down his teacup from the table.

Zhongli led him to the room where he kept his various collections. Rows upon rows of tea seats filled one of the long walls. Haoyu stopped in front of a delicate purple clay teapot. He lifted it up from its shelf and studied it closely.

Zhongli closed his eyes in annoyance, but continued to play the part of a good host. He showed him his various treasures and Haoyu was overjoyed by the different riches.

Zhongli followed Haoyu out to the hallway. “Before you leave, I want to ask you something” his voice polite.

Haoyu raised an eyebrow. “Alright. Go on.”

Zhongli ignore his rude tone yet again. “I have heard that you are good acquaintances with [Name]” his voice as calm as still water.

The man smirked at his words. “Yeah, you could say that… She’s quite the looker” he laughed. His fat fingers clasped together.

Zhongli reminded silent. He’s face similar to his many statues that were scattered over the country.

At the taller man’s silence, Haoyu raised his brow. “Why are you asking?”

Zhongli walked towards a painting of a bamboo forest. His back facing Haoyu. “I do not like it when people get their greedy hands on what’s mine. It angers me. And very much so” his voice had a sharp edge to it.

He turned slowly to face him. “You are a foul man. You lack both tact and elegance” his diamond shaped pupils small in disgust. He stalked towards him with slow steps.

Haoyu slumped his shoulders at Zhongli’s fury. He gulped loudly as his back hit the wall.

“You are not worthy of [Name’s] presence. She has told me countless times that she finds you revolting” his rage cold in his veins as he looked down at the man who had sinned the greatest sin of all. His cold golden gaze flickered down to the man’s hands. The very hands that had touched his beloved.

“I-I promise to never speak to her or touch her ever again!” Haoyu uttered as he slumped even further together. His legs were shaking in fear.

His stuttering a clear sign of his cowardice and Zhongli found it humorous how his brutish façade was just only that: a façade.

The adeptus’ entire body was filled with the want, need, to spill the blood of the man who had crossed him. He flex his hands along his side and felt the welcoming power of geo that flowed through his veins. He raised his hand in a quick motion as he wrapped it around Haoyu’s neck. He slammed his head against his wall, not caring about his expensive wallpaper.

“All sinners must pay for their sins. You are no different” he spat. Zhongli’s eyes glowed a golden hue which was the main telltale sign of his non-humanity.

Haoyu desperately tried to defend himself, but the strong hand that held his neck only tightened. The sound of his struggling breath was music to his ears.

“Be quiet” was all he said before he dropped the man.

The bearded man quickly crawled towards the front door before Zhongli brought his foot down and kicked him in his ribs. The sound of bones creaking brought a small smile to the former archon’s face.

Haoyu screamed as snoot and tears streamed down his disgusting face. He loudly prayed to be saved by Rex Lapis.

Zhongli scoffed before he brought his foot at the nap of Haoyu’s neck. He pressed down, earning a cry from the black haired man. “Take his name out of your filthy mouth” he sneered.

He manifested his spear and pointed it towards the man who laid in a kneeling position on the floor. The pointed tip, glittering in the light. His polearm had been his trusted companion throughout many years.

“Get up” his tone dominating.

Haoyu scrambled up to his legs and clutched his side in pain. His dark eyes looked up at Zhongli in fear.

Zhongli raised his spear before he brought it down to Haoyu’s left shoulder. The spear pierced his flesh and made contact with the bone. Red blood splattered on the hardwood floor. Haoyu screamed in pain.

“AGH! Fuck! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” he screamed as he tried to stop the bleeding with his fat hand.

The brunette laughed at his pitiful cries. “No one will help you. They cannot hear you on the outside” his lips twisted up into a cruel smile. He had used adeptal arts to completely soundproof his home.

He stalked towards his prey and stopped right in front of him. His polished shoes soaking in blood. He sneered in disgust.

He rose his empty hand. His finger tips turned into claws which he used to slash through the neck of the sinner in front of him. Haoyu gurgled on his blood as he desperately clutched his throat. His eyes wet as they pleaded to the god in front of him.

Zhongli brought his bloodied hand before him. Torn skin was attached to his long black claws. He shook his hand and sent the skin flying towards Haoyu.

With a splat the skin landed on his forehead which resulted in him throwing up. Vomit spewed out from his mouth and the gaping hole in his throat. The sight was disgusting and Zhongli felt even more offended. The smell of vomit reached his strong nose and he crushed his inhuman sense of smell.

He reattached his claws and sat his spear neatly against the wall behind him. He crouched down to the dying man’s level. His godly eyes scanning his. “You brought this upon yourself” was all he said.

Long elegant fingers wrapped around Haoyu’s left arm. Zhongli waited till he was sure he was sure he paid attention. He then ripped his arm off with no effort. The tearing sound echoed in the hallway. Blood gushed from the open wound. It was going to be long before he died from blood loss. Zhongli tossed the arm away before he stood up.

“Stand” he commanded.

Haoyu struggled like a newborn fawn, but managed to stand. His appearance similar to that of a mangled corpse than a living human.

Zhongli brought his hand up to his chest. The power of geo poured out from his every pores and onto the man in front of him.

Slowly, but surely his chest turned into stone. Haoyu screamed as loudly as his damaged vocal cords let him. Zhongli was sure to be slow. It was important for him to feel the pain as long as he could.

His harsh eyes met the gaping hole in his throat. Tendons clearly visible. His vocal cords looked rather teared as well as his Adam’s apple which was completely damaged.

“You should apologise for your unkempt appearance” Zhongli had no humanity left in neither his voice nor eyes.

He reattached his hand. He made sure to make proper eye contact with Haoyu before he curled his hand into a fist. His fist drove into his face. Before he knew it, his fist had made a complete hole. Haoyu’s body fell limp against the floor. His face completely gone and replaced by a through hole. Brain matter covered the wall and stained his beautiful wallpaper.

Zhongli scoffed at the mess. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and willed his hands. Th white pure fabric quickly turned grimy.

He was yet again glad for the adeptal art he was the father off. With a snap of his finger the whole hallway was clean. The hardwood floors no longer coated in warm sticky blood and the wallpaper no longer stained. The body was turned into stone which quickly turned into sand.

He brought a broom and cleaned the sand up.

He would sprinkle the sand in the garden in Haoyu’s family house.

He sat down on his armchair and breathed out. He was content with his work. The only thing missing was you by his side. He picked up the contract he had written. He would encourage you to write your name on it. Then your fate would be sealed and he would finally be able to sleep peacefully with you by his side. With Haoyu and the others who had been close to you out of the picture, it was only the two of you.

Just as it should be.

He took a sip of the rich wine and let the the liquid swirl around in his mouth. A soft smile formed on his lips. He had had the adepti make a beautiful red wedding dress with gold embroidered into the silky fabric. You would make a beautiful bride and he would do everything in order to protect you. He would even take his role as an archon again if the situation called for it.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

Press One for Love, Two for Regret

Chapter 3

Summary: Proper confessions should never happen over the phone. Viktor knows that. So how did he get here?

Pairing: Viktor x Reader

Word Count: 5.3K

Warning: Mature (mentions of explicit content, explicit in last chapter)

Notes: Yup, this started from a silly lil 1K prompt, don't ask me what happened, I wouldn't be able to say either. This chapter is pretty heavy on feelings, self-reflection and angst, but I think y'all will find it enjoyable ❤️. There's one more chapter left (the SMUT yeehawww), but I've written chapter 3 in a way where you could technically stop reading the story here if you didn't want to read the smut, and it would still be a satisfying conclusion. I know most of you are in it for the smut too, so don't worry my beloveds, it will come 😛💕

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 4/End)

The humanities faculty room always smells horrible.

It's hard to tell where the pungent scent even comes from; it feels like it's in the air, in all the furniture, in the walls themselves. There's no window to even attempt to vent it out either; it’s in the oldest wing of the university, built at least sixty years prior to the construction of every other unit. Most teachers avoid it like the plague, preferring to work in any other available space on campus, so it's almost always empty.

But it isn't today.

“Melllll,” you moan, shoving your face into the leather couch’s pillows. The smell is somehow worse, imbued into the fabric. If you had to describe it, you would just call it old. Like rancid coffee forgotten on the kitchen counter for too long, or ancient damp books abandoned in an attic. Old. “Why do I always mess up everything I do?”

Mel looks up from the paper she's grading with a sigh, adjusting the small reading glasses on her nose.

“You don't mess up everything you do,” she argues softly. “You wear your heart on your sleeve, and you say what you think without feeling ashamed. That's not something for everyone, but it's not a flaw, either.”

You can only groan into the odorous leather as an answer.

Viktor had been your very first friend at work, but he had been a lot more. Without him, you would have never met Jayce, and without Jayce, you would have never met Mel. And you would have no one to cry your woes to on a Friday evening, a whole two weeks after the most disastrous phone call of your life.

“And I believe Viktor is equally at fault here. He knows better than to play hide and seek with you forever,” Mel hums pensively, crossing her legs. Her olive eyes narrow, her nose scrunching up slightly in thought.

“He's stalling, trying to figure a way out without confronting his feelings or yours. He's smart enough to know there isn't one, but he's stubborn,” she points out, tapping her manicured nails on the wooden table. Tic, tic. Like **the sound of seconds passing on the clock, never-ending and all-consuming.

At first, both Jayce Talis, mechanical engineering PhD and researcher, and Mel Medarda, political science PhD with five peer-reviewed books published under her name, had been two extremely imposing people to interact with. You already felt unworthy enough talking to Viktor, but after learning of the kind of people he usually hung out with, you felt like an absolute loser. Jayce and Mel are both unreasonably attractive and accomplished, and when Viktor joins them, there's no denying he belongs to their world, and not yours.

In those moments, the differences between the two of you seem much more glaring: the university professor with a collection of awards and a PhD in biomechanical engineering, who is dedicating his life to creating life-altering prosthetic limbs and transmitting his knowledge to a whole new generation of scientists… and you.

The guidance councillor who can't shut up.

It’s not that you're ashamed of your job; you love what you do. You love being able to help people figure themselves out, and orient them toward what will make them happiest.

But when you stand in the same space as Viktor, it's hard to see anything other than how much greater of a person he is than you will ever be. He's like a star in the sky, shining brighter and brighter every day, and you get the privilege of watching him through the lens of a telescope. That should already be enough for you to be satisfied.

But it isn’t, not anymore. It hasn't been for a long time. And you want to do so much more than look at him. You want to touch him. You want to kiss him. You want to be someone worthy of shining alongside him; but you never believed that would ever happen.

And for so long, it felt so much easier to just date people whose very existence didn't make you feel like you would never be enough to reach their ankle. People who just wanted something casual and meaningless, some sex, maybe the semblance of a romance. And that's how you ended up with a string of disastrous relationships with men you barely even liked.

You contort your body uncomfortably on the couch to face Mel; it squeaks awkwardly under you, like it's threatening to break.

“Did you know? Did everyone but me know?”

She rests her head on her hand, the hint of a smile on her lips, seemingly slightly amused by the question:

“Depends on who you mean by everyone. No one outside his circle of close friends, for sure. He's not the type to scream about his love life over the phone,” she adds with a teasing glim in her eyes. “No offence.”

You groan, shoving your face back into the roughed-up leather. God, it still smells.

“But Jayce did know,” she confirms, and you hear her straighten her chair to return to work. The comforting sound of her fountain pen starts up again, but you know she's still giving her conversation with your full attention. Mel is like that, able to carry on a hundred tasks at once without breaking a sweat; you wish you had an ounce of her composure.

“Viktor told him after he got drunk last year at the faculty cookout. I believe his exact words were…”

She pauses to do a dramatic imitation of Viktor's voice and tone, “‘Jayce, she is wearing that dress just to put me into an early grave’.”

Not only is it pretty accurate, but God, you know exactly what dress.

The skimpy little sunflower dress that you knew showed way too much chest for a work-related event. You had worn it in the hopes of eliciting any sort of reaction from Viktor; but he had barely spoken to you that afternoon, constantly vanishing every time you entered a room. You assumed you made him uncomfortable with something you said, like you always ended up doing with everyone else.

So you had left the party on the arm of some nameless T.A. from the law department, hoping it would help you forget Viktor, just for a while.

It hadn't.

“And I knew,” Mel continues smoothly in her regular voice, “because I know what it's like to want someone to notice you so badly. To want someone to love you back.”

You detect something very personal in the way she pronounces the word ‘love’, almost like it's painful to even say.

Mel rarely talks about herself, preferring to listen to the stories of everyone around her. Everything about her gives an air of mature confidence and independence, and if she ever has any issues in her personal life, she never shares them with you, or anyone that you know of.

She's not cold by any means, and she helps everyone with genuine care, that, you are absolutely certain of. But you can feel there's a side of her she desperately wants to keep to herself. She's only ever mentioned her mother once, in a drunken haze, muttering something under her breath about never being enough for her.

You wonder if that's the person who’s love she’s longing for.

When she speaks again, there is something akin to nostalgia lingering in her voice:

“You get that special look in your eyes. You both looked at each other just like that, but neither of you ever noticed.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes. Fucking ironic. You can never seem to stop talking, but now, the words you want to tell her just won't come.

Mel doesn't seem to mind, though, and the sound of pen scrapping paper picks up again. You force yourself out of your leather cavern, sitting up on the couch to look at her directly.

“…Why didn't you say anything?” you ultimately settle with, but it rings much more fragile and hurt than you wanted it to.

She gives a small shrug without looking away from her documents:

“Not my place to. Viktor needed to confront his feelings head-on, and you needed to realize you were never not enough or too much for him,” she states matter-of-factly, “It's that simple.”

Everything always seems so easy when it comes from Mel's lips. But in your mind, thoughts are jumbled, emotions are running wild, and everything you thought you knew about the last four years is falling apart.

Maybe, that time on New Year’s Eve when he told you there was no other place he'd rather be, he hadn't meant at the party. He had meant with you.

Maybe, when he had taken your hand, it wasn't just because you were excitedly counting down the last seconds until midnight. It was because he wanted to touch you just as much as you wanted to touch him.

Maybe, at the end of that night and in those early morning hours, when he had said you would make someone really happy one day…he was asking if it could be him.

“Maybe,” you **exhale bitterly, enunciating the world like a curse, “it would actually be simple if he just answered my texts, or my calls. Or anything I do to try and reach him.”

Yeah, you're to blame for being so blind for so long. For noticing the smallest things about everyone else, but missing all the signs when it came to him.

But so is he for refusing to talk about it now that you finally see it.

“At this point, I’m seriously starting to consider lock-picking their apartment,” you grumble, more in tiredness than anger; you can't even manage to stay mad at him for longer than a minute. “He’s the one who showed me how to do that, did I ever tell you that?”

She lets out a soft laugh at that; but when she glances over to you, there's a hint of something new in her eyes.

“I'm sure he would enjoy seeing you put your training to use, but there might be another way to see him. I think he's had more than enough time playing hide and seek.”

You know that glint in her forest-green stare; she knows something you don't, and she’s chosen to reveal it to you. You almost jump off the couch with your eyes wide, so quickly you almost lose your balance:

“Mel, what do I do?”

She snorts as she motions for you to sit back down with a calming wave of her hand, amusement clear on her face.

“Calm down. I wouldn't tell anyone about this normally,” she begins, lowering her voice in secrecy, as if you’re not the only two in the room, “and I want to make it very clear you did not receive this information from me.”

You nod eagerly in agreement, hanging on to her every word.

“Go to their apartment,” she declares with certainty. “If you keep going after their door and to the end of the corridor, there's a big potted plant on the window sill. An orchid.”

You frown in confusion.

You've only been to Viktor and Jayce's apartment a few times in the couple of years you've known them. Usually for relaxed group hangouts, or an occasional game night. You remember very little about it other than the all-consuming childish excitement of being in Viktor’s home, and the absolutely not innocent thought of his bedroom being barely a few feet away.

Why don't you ever remember the important things?

You try to muster every memory you have of the apartment complex itself instead; they live on the third floor, and their door is the second one on the right after the elevator. The hallway is a straight, narrow line, and you've noticed how dark it always is every time you’ve visited.

Dark, yes, that's right, because aside from a cheap light fixture, there’s only one window that lets any light into the hallway, at the very end of the corridor. One window, that is almost entirely blocked by the world's most decrepit potted plant.

“The… really ugly one?” you ask with uncertainty.

Mel snaps her fingers in confirmation, a hint of perfect pearly white teeth shining between her lips.

“I think you may find something of interest under it. Jayce told me about it for whenever I want to…” she hesitates on her next word, uncharacteristically a little bashful, “visit.”

Oh, you fucking knew it.

“I totally-” you start triumphantly.

“Yes, I know, you knew it for months,” she interrupts, waving her hand in dismissal. Her lower lip sticks out slightly, almost like she's pouting. You've never seen her this embarrassed. “It's incredible how you notice everything about everyone else, but when it's about you, you suddenly forget how to use your own eyes.”

Touché.

You've sensed it for at least a year now, the unspoken electricity between the two of them. How her arm sometimes lingers just a second too long on his shoulder, how his hands seem to always accidentally brush her waist. For as subtle as they were being, there was no mistaking the fire when they looked at each other.

Did Viktor ever look at you like that, too?

Why hadn't you ever noticed?

“Wait, wait,” you interrupt your own train of thought. “The orchid. Why is the orchid…”

You pause when the realization hits you like a bucket of cold water.

Oh.

Oh.

“Do… do they have a set of keys under the orchid?” you ask slowly.

“I didn't say that,” Mel says, bringing her two hands up in self-defence; but the smile lingering on her lips tells another story. “And if you say I did, I will deny it and throw you under the bus with every inch of my power as the advisor for the debate club. Are we clear?”

You could kiss her.

You settle with a tight hug, holding her with as much force as you can muster. The scent of her perfume, bitter and floral, masks the decrepit smell of the room for just a moment. Is there any problem Mel can’t solve?

“Mel, you're the best,” you grin against her ear.

“So I'm told,” she hums. She gently detaches herself from the hug, giving you an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Now go. I don't like seeing you mop around my teacher's lounge, and I can't stand when Viktor performs his little disappearing act instead of talking things out.”

She picks her pen back up, giving you one last genuine look of support, voice soft, sincere: “You two are really meant for each other. Give him hell.”

—

Viktor is much less attentive than people give him credit for.

That’s not to say he’s oblivious or careless. In fact, when it comes to his work, he could instantly notice a tenth of a millimeter discrepancy from a mile away. He could hear the slightest abnormal murmur in the heart of any machine, and pinpoint its exact origin within seconds. Throw a blindfold on top, and he'd still know exactly where to place each and every single component of his prosthetic models.

But when it comes to the world outside his lab, his attention to detail just plummets.

If a bomb went off right outside his apartment, he probably wouldn't even look up from his notes. Jayce usually has to call his name thrice to pull him out of the trance-like state he gets into when he's sketching up a new idea, and that's only because he's used to Jayce's voice; for someone else, he might not hear it at all.

Even walking home from campus, he pays no attention to his surroundings, lost in his thoughts of valves, hydraulic cylinders, and flexion plates. He mechanically follows the same path he's walked thousands of times, a habit so ingrained in him it allows him to fully disconnect and think of nothing but work.

He's glad he has such a strong grip on his own mind, because if he didn't, he would let his practical ideations slowly morph into thoughts of nothing but you. You, who he hasn't seen in two weeks, because he likes to pretend change can't happen if he simply refuses to acknowledge it. It's much better to focus on what he actually has control over, to lose himself entirely in the things that make sense to him. To forget the world burning around him.

And that's exactly why he doesn't realize you’re in his apartment, sitting on his couch about ten feet away from him, until you make a pointed cough to signal your presence.

“Ah,” is the only thing he manages to get out.

He wishes he'd be surprised, but then again, he knew you would find your way to him eventually. He could keep trying to bury himself in work and avoid you with every inch of his power, you would not stop until you got answers to your questions. You’re just as stubborn as he is. That's part of why he fell for you.

So, there's nothing he can do, but let out a defeated sigh.

“I would ask how you got in here,” he starts flatly, taking off his coat robotically to place it on the hanger, “but I have a feeling it doesn't really matter.”

You don't react to his distant, tired tone, your expressive face unusually devoid of emotion when you speak.

“I didn't use your lockpicking lessons, if you're wondering.”

He can't help but snort at that:

“Disappointing.”

You both stay silent as he slowly takes off his boots and removes his wool scarf. The atmosphere isn't exactly awkward, but it's not comfortable either. Like a cheap, stiff version of the warm intimacy you usually share.

You've always been so easy to read, and anything that didn't show on your face always came from your lips. He always knows how you feel: he's observed every single expression on your face, from the slightest pout to the biggest grin, and committed it to memory with the dedication he only ever puts into his projects.

From the day you literally crashed in his life four years ago, utterly drunk and analyzing him with astonishing accuracy, he's felt the need to analyze you, too. To decipher every part of you, understand each component, each reaction. He craved the idea of knowing you like a cartographer knows the maps of the world, like an astronomer knows the place of every star. To understand you as you had understood him, with a single glance.

Right now, he has no idea what you're thinking.

In typical fashion, you're the one who ultimately breaks the ice first:

“You could kick me out,” you declare, staring him down almost challengingly. “I'll leave if you really want me to.”

There's clear apprehension and hurt in your voice, a bitterness you're trying your best to hide, but failing. He despises being the one to make you feel that way. He's become no better than any of your exes.

“We both know I won't do that,” he exhales. He's still standing in the entryway, just a few steps away from the threshold of the living room. There's no hiding anymore, no backing out. You're here, and he has to face you. Even if it breaks him.

“In the kitchen, second drawer on the left,” he says, making his way inside resignedly. “There's a rather large bread knife inside it. It hasn't been sharpened in a while, but it should do.”

Your passive expression falls for a second and you stare at him in confusion.

“Do for what?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

“Killing me to spare us both the embarrassment of this conversation,” he answers unenthusiastically.

You're the one who snorts, this time. If he could forget why you're here, he could almost pretend this is just a regular talk between close friends. Almost.

You get off the couch without hurry, stretching your limbs lazily; he wonders if you've been waiting for him for a while. You're still in your usual work clothes, but your hair is dishevelled, and your makeup is a bit smudged. Had these been different circumstances, this would be the kind of look he would imagine you in when he's alone in bed, but that's exactly the kind of treacherous impulse that's led him to this situation in the first place.

There's a strange shimmer in your eyes when you look at him again:

“You got any booze in that kitchen ?”

He’s starting to realize no matter how many years you give him, he’ll probably never be able to completely figure out what's going on in that brain of yours.

“You want to drink. Right now,” he states in disbelief.

You shrug:

“Seems like you listened to me when I was drunk last time. Maybe that'll get your attention again.”

There's an undeniable bitterness under the light sarcasm. It's deserved, frankly. And maybe a drink would make what's inevitably coming less difficult.

“First cabinet to the right. You can take the clear unlabeled bottle,” he offers.

You hum in approval, making your way to the kitchen without looking back at him. He makes his way to the couch, sitting at the opposite end of where you had been.

You come back with the bottle in one hand, and two mismatched shot glasses in the other. One is his, a souvenir from an academic conference in Marseilles; the silver lettering simply states ‘Ainsi va la vie’, ‘such is life’. He has to wonder if you chose it on purpose, to taunt him.

Although, the other one is Jayce's, and it's shaped like the torso of a woman with huge breasts in a bikini top with the colours of his old college. So it's equally as likely you just grabbed the first ones you found.

He always overthinks when he's anxious.

You put the three items down on the rectangular table in front of him, before sinking into the couch next to him. Your bodies aren't touching, shoulders an adequate distance from each other, but the proximity is still unnerving. The smell of your perfume, usually so comforting, makes him feel slightly ill.

You pour the alcohol into the shot glasses unhurriedly, progressively filling them both to the brim.

“Did you know Mel and Jayce are together?” you ask, not looking up from your task.

“Unfortunately so,” he mutters sourly.

You pause at that, perplexed.

“No, that is not what I meant, I am very happy for them,” he clarifies quickly. “But their decision to keep it a secret has been rather… precarious for me.”

You slide a glass towards him and give him a smile; the first one of the day, the first one in two weeks.

“You walked in on them fucking, didn't you?”

He groans, and you laugh. God, he missed that sound.

“I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life,” he complains, wrapping his hand around the shot glass. He notices with gratitude it's the plain one and not its heavily endowed sibling. “Being able to run had never seemed more appealing.”

You grab your own glass, the smile on your lips genuine, but fragile. The words still left unsaid hang above you both, and he's forced to remember this is but a moment of respite before everything falls apart.

“Maybe a drink will help you forget,” you joke, holding up the glass in his direction.

How he wishes it would.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he simply answers, bringing his glass to yours until they hit with a light clink. “Cheers.”

Your gaze holds his captive as you speak, like you're reaching into the depths of his very being.

“Na zdravià.”

You throw your head back and down the shot before he has time to voice his surprise, so he does the same, not wanting to break the unspoken rules of the toast; his ancestors would roll in their graves.

The liquid burns his throat almost instantly, the familiar warmth of alcohol settling into his body. It’s strong, powerful, but there’s a recognizable hint of plum and almonds that's comforting to him.

He can’t help a discreet, fond smile as your face scrunches from the sharp taste.

“I-I don't think I've ever had that before,” you cough out, your eyes slightly watery. It's endearing that no matter how much you drink, you never seem to build a tolerance to the sting of strong spirits.

“Slivovice. Plum brandy. The homemade ones are noticeably sharper than what they sell in stores here. Although… perhaps not as legal.”

You let out an amused cough, wiping away any tears before they get the chance to fall, smudging your mascara even more. But you're still smiling at him, decided, bold, never letting yourself be defeated by anything. It's like he's falling for you all over again in that single moment, outside of time and space.

Even in his darkest moments, when all else crumbles, you remain the unwavering light he can always find in the sky.

“I am a little surprised you remembered how to say that,” he admits softly.

What he had meant as a compliment seems to come off as a reproach in your eyes, and the smile falls, ending the magic of the instant.

“It may not always look like it, but I listen to you, Viktor,” you mumble, hurt. “I'm not an idiot, either.”

“I did not mean to imply-” he protests, but the words die in his throat. He opens his mouth by reflex, before closing it again; the sentence lingers incomplete in the air.

“…Why did you hang up?”

Here it is.

“Ah, so we're jumping into the questioning already. Alright,” he sighs. He chooses to stare at the bottom of his empty glass to avoid seeing your reaction. It's pitiful, but it'll spare him some of the pain and embarrassment. “I did not want to listen to what you would say, this once. I was scared if I heard your answer, it would all be real. Unchangeable.”

Change. Viktor had never been scared of the concept before. Change means something new, passing from one state to another, an evolution. It means progress. Nothing could ever be as gratifying, as glorious, as making the changes you want to see in the world.

But he didn't want you to change. He wanted you to stay just as you are, always excitedly talkative and brilliantly observant. Always shinning. A star brighter than any other, that could never fade no matter how the world treated her.

Revealing his feelings for you would have put that in harm’s way. You might think he had never truly been interested in your conversations, in all those ideas and words you feel so self-conscious about, and lose the trust you had in him as a friend.

He couldn't take that risk.

“So… you avoided me for two weeks ?” you scoff in disbelief.

He lets out a short, bitter laugh:

“I would have attempted longer if you did not break into my apartment.”

The poor attempt at a joke doesn't seem to land very well with either of you. The atmosphere feels still and heavy, the strange tension palpable.

“Ok,” you exhale, leaning your head back against the back of the couch. “You can ask me a question now.”

He glances at you in surprise:

“A question? Why?”

“So it's equal. I ask you one, you ask me one,” you explain simply, like it's the most basic rule of conversation in the world. “I haven't been attentive to what you were trying to tell me, for a long time. I need to change that.”

He hesitates for a second. There's a lot he wants to ask you. Had things been different, would you ever have considered him as someone you could fall for? If he could change the timing, the place, the words, would anything have made it so you could have loved him?

“You read people so easily,” he almost whispers. “I always assumed you knew how felt for you, but were too nice to tell me off. That you did not want to break what we had.”

It’s time. It's time for change. There is no other choice than to move forward. He continues:

“I am… sorry that I fell in love with you.”

Ah…

The weight seems slightly lighter on his chest. It's not a good feeling, exactly, but there's a certain peace that comes with finally having said it.

The expression on your face is yet again one he doesn't recognize.

“I'm not. I’m not sorry, Viktor,” you breathe out, hardly any louder than his respiration.

Your hand touches his, just barely, and he flinches, pulling away. But you refuse to back off. You reach for him again, your fingers timidly touching his own.

“Maybe I did know, in a way,” you reflect, a single digit moving across his knuckles, the ghost of a caress, “but I wouldn't let myself believe it. I didn't want to lose the only person I’ve ever felt wanted to listen to me. So… I stopped listening to my instincts, I guess.”

You let out a shaky laugh.

“I talk all the goddamn time and I don't even listen to myself.”

He turns his hand around, letting your index trace the lines of his palm instead.

“A fortune teller who can't read her own cards,” he teases gently. “Ironic.”

You scoff with a smile; your fingers intertwine, tentative.

“You're one to talk, asshole,” you huff playfully, “the big smart professor who can't figure out when someone is in love with him.”

His heart stops beating in his chest.

“Ah. You... you lo-” he stops himself before finishing his sentence, scared of pronouncing the word. He takes a shaky breath before he attempts again: “You feel the same way I…?”

He leaves the question open. He's still hesitant to make it real. Of saying the words that'll shift things. Because damn it, yes, Viktor is scared of change when it comes to you.

“I’m in love with you, Viktor,” you smile, like it's the most natural thing in the world. “Did the part where I broke into your apartment just to talk to you not give that away?”

What a strange feeling. He's dreamed of hearing those words from your mouth for so long, never believing they would, and yet it feels so right. As if you had told him a thousand times before this moment.

Maybe you had, in your own way.

He squeezes your hand, the sensation of your skin against his making it all feel impossibly real.

“I suppose we're both idiots,” he sighs gently, eyes locking into yours. “The blind oracle, and the clueless teacher. What a dynamic duo we make.”

Your forehead meets his, your nose just barely tickling his.

“I'd say we make a good duo. You and me,” you grin. You're so close he can feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. He smiles.

“I'd say so as well.”

Taglist Darlings ❤️ : @soniiyi , @mischievous-piltovan , @just1cefor4ll , @luv-urself-first, @girlidkthinkofsmth , @starflesh-moth , @raynoway, @vyshnevaka , @ash-84321 , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[dogw1tch]

Escapism 🍂

18+ Minotaur x Gender Neutral Reader

(Size difference, Breeding, reader has afab anatomy)

DogWitch Notes: Thank you guys for the love on my last story! It makes me so happy to know people are enjoying my work :) this one has a little more build up but it might call for multiple chapters?

Summary: The library is off limits after dark but knowledge waits for no one. Besides, reading mythology is much more immersive at night. So immersive, in fact, that the breath on the back of your neck feels very, very real.

You had been crouching behind the bookshelf for so long now your legs were starting to loose feeling. Finally, though, the university librarian had finished making his checks and began turning out the lights. He was an anxious looking man in his thirties and you felt a little bad deceiving him like this- after all, it was him that had given you the book in the first place. But the tome was a relic that couldn’t leave the library to be read in your dorm room and you were so desperate to finish it. So, since stealing seemed a bit dramatic, you would have to settle for trespassing. You heard the large wooden door echo closed and dragged yourself from your hiding place, book still clutched to your chest. Your eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness as you dug around in your pocket for your lighter. Slivers of moonlight through the window seemed to die in the shadows of the towering book cases. They looked almost identical to the grand towers of the university in the darkness and the chill in the air gave you the feeling of walking through the streets at night.

Lighter in hand, you slowly navigated the corridors to find your much beloved reading corner and lit the candles you had left there. The little corner of light looked so cozy and you smiled as you gathered yourself up in the blanket you had bought and settled down in the old armchair with your book. The title ‘Portentum Complexus’ was embossed in gold into deep red leather. Much of the writing was still in the original Latin and you had been taking your time to carefully translate. However there were passages written in English, seemingly added by a scholar years later as well as beautiful etched illustrations. From all of these pieces, you had managed to put together a tale of a strange beast, roaming the land to find his lost lover. There had been a great war between worlds and the beast was trying to bring life back to his realm. Though the creature was described as being a hulking monster, triple the size of any man, covered in corse hair, obsidian black horns and pointed hooves; he still had a gentle feel about him. There was a sadness in the Latin passages that didn’t seem to properly translate into English. Perhaps that was why previous scholars hadn’t bothered to do so. But you poured over them, wanting to find the words to understand this creature who everyone, bar the monsters of his realm, was so afraid of. Your heart hurt for him a little; after all, he was looking for his love, he must feel so alone.

So this was how you intended to spend your night, curled up on the moth bitten armchair reading about lamenting fictional creatures. University was certainly the right choice. You flicked to the last English passage you had been studying. The beast had been captured by a human army and, not wishing to harm them by fighting back, had ended up bound by thick ropes in the king’s dungeon.

‘The corse binding bit into his soft flesh as he cried out into the empty corridors. He cried for his love, for his mate. He cried for them to find him in this cold and lonesome maze. His sorrow echoed from the cold stone and surrounded him.’

A sudden noise broke you from your immersion. It sounded like the lowing of cattle, strange since you were in the city centre. It was quickly replaced by the constant groaning of the ancient building before you could pay it much mind. The library was surprisingly noisy at night.

‘The beast cried until his throat was horse and even the reflection of his own voice left him alone. He feared he was to die here in the darkness. He spoke a silent prayer to the gods that his love might be safe. His chest heaved against its restraints as the monster resigned himself to his fate.’

Again came that noise, closer now, and sounding more laboured. You looked around but saw nothing in the darkness. Your mind must be playing tricks, you knew you shouldn’t really be here after all.

‘Movement. Movement in the darkness. The beast stirred and strained to see who approached him. Staring, wide eyed and loving through the bars of his captivity there stood…’

The words cut off back into Latin. You sighed and contemplated packing in for the night, translating seemed a tiresome chore at this hour. But something kept you going, call it intellectual curiosity. You needed to know what happened to the monster you had grown so fond of. Slowly but surely, word by word, you uncovered each sentence.

‘His love. His love had come to rescue him. They picked at the lock and made their way inside. The beast stared in disbelief. After all this time, all this searching, his love had been the one to find him. They approached with caution, unsure whether they recognised their mate after all these years. “Please, do not be afraid my heart, it is me.”’

The voice startled you. You read the words but they seemed to come from behind you. You turned again but again saw nothing but empty corridors through towering shelves. Perhaps your love of escapism had just left you with a very vivid imagination.

‘His love came forward, running their hands over the restrains that bound their lover. With a deft hand and a sharp blade, they began to cut through the rope. The beast sighed in relief as the pressure on his chest was released.’

The back of your neck tingled as a warm gust of air blew through the library. You could not shake the feeling you were being watched now but the story had you too gripped to care.

‘Like felled serpents, the ropes lay limp on the stone floor and the beast rose up from his stupor. He towered above his lover but they were not afraid. They knew he could not hurt them nor anyone else. They were bound together by fate and they would always find their way back to one another.

“My love. My heart. Please, I have craved for you endlessly. Let me hold you and make you mine once more.”’

Without warning you were pulled into a sudden embrace that knocked the air from your lungs. In your confusion, you did not even scream as large hands pulled you bodily from your chair. You were suddenly being held against a wall of corse fur, inhaling the bitter sweet of hay and sweat. You look up to see, towering over you in the candle-kissed half light, a great Minotaur.

He held you flush to his soft, strong chest as though you weighed nothing at all. His breath was hot on your skin and as a rough, black tongue ran up your neck making you shiver. “My mate…” The creature’s voice was low and surrounded you just as fully as his embrace, “How I’ve longed for this.” With one sweep of his arm, the Minotaur sent your books and papers fluttering to the ground. You had to crane your neck to gaze up at him as he placed you down on the desk; his dark eyes bore into you with such deep lust that you couldn’t help a pang of arousal coursing through your body. Nobody had ever looked at you this way. The great beast stood tall over you, taking in your body like he wanted to consume every part. You felt then, something hot and heavy resting next to your thigh. Your face flushed red and you had to look away for a moment, suddenly finding yourself embarrassed as the obscenity of the situation dawned on you. The creatures cock was longer than your thigh and just as thick. It made sense with the rest of his towering form but you were suddenly feeling very exposed under the beast’s hungry glare. He seemed to notice your hesitation and cupped your face in his palm, tilting your head to look at him. “Do you fear me?” Despite it all, you shook your head. Embarrassed? Yes. But not afraid.

“I shall endeavour to be as gentle as I can. You are to bear my calfs after all, it is my duty to treat you well.”

Before his words could register, the creatures head was between your thighs. He had ripped away the fabric there and his thick, rough tongue was lapping at your folds like a man starved. A cry of pleasure escaped your lips as you threw back your head. Your thighs clenched around his head, seemingly spurring him on. His tongue began to push deeper, curling inside you and igniting every nerve in your body. A single finger, large enough that you could wrap your hand around it, began to toy with your clit, rolling in gentle circles as you struggled to hold back wanton moans. He seemed to revel in the sounds you made, thrusting his tongue deeper inside with every whine of pleasure until you were rocking your hips desperately against his snout.

You were sure you were about faint from the overwhelming sensation of it all when the creature finally pulled his head back to see his work. You were a drooling mess against the table, slick and stretched open all for him. Still not open enough to take him inside you. A chuckle echoed above you, as though he had read your panicked look. “No, not here. Once we are home, my love, I will have you completely. But for now…” He picked you up with one hand around your waist, the other positioning his cock beneath you. “For now I have other ways to fill you.”

He began pulling you up his length, fucking in between your thighs and coating himself in your slick. He groaned deeply as he used your body to pleasure himself as if you truly belonged to him alone. You couldn’t help but let out your own whimpers of pleasure as your clit rubbed against his rough skin, getting wetter with every thrust. You found yourself wishing he were inside you, his scent, his growls, it all seemed so right, so familiar and you wanted to belong to this great beast that had captured you. You pressed your thighs together as tight as you could as he man-handled like you were nothing more than a toy made just for him. “That’s it, just like that..” he groaned. The muscles under the creature’s soft belly tightened and you knew he was close. “When we’re home I’m going to keep you full every minute of the day. I’ve spent too long without you. I’m going to hold you on my cock and fill you with my calfs until you’re stretched and moulded to my shape. No one else will be able to have you. You’re mine.” Without warning, he pinned you back to the desk and pressed his engorged tip against your entrance, stretching you around him. He let out a deep, echoing growl as he released inside you, filling you so much that you felt his cum leaking out of you and down your thighs.

The Minotaur didn’t seem satisfied to let this happen. He ran his fingers over your thigh and pushed the residue back inside you, fucking it deep into your stomach. You cried out with each thrust of his fingers, rocking your hips and riding out your waves of pleasure. It felt so good to be full of him.

You stayed there a while as he kissed and lapped at your skin, nuzzling into your neck and plugging you full with his fingers. He mumbled under his breath sweet nothings about how he would take you home, back where you belong. How he would keep you full and satisfied in every way. How you would give him such strong and beautiful young. How life would be so sweet now that his mate had been found. You tried to focus on his words, but they bought such a familiar peace that you found yourself lulled into sleep, breathing him in as you snuggled into his warm fur.

“That’s it my love, rest now. I will find you again soon”

***

It was the librarian who found you in the morning. He had gotten some idea of what was going to happen that night but was honestly surprised by the sheer amount of fluid involved. He tried his best to keep his eyes shut as he threw your blanket over your body and placed you back in your reading chair. The book he had lent you was open on the floor, displaying an etching of the Minotaur and his lover in an intimate embrace. The librarian quickly pushed it shut, not wanting to be anymore invasive into your private life. He thought about waking you, there were so many things he needed to tell you before the creature came back to claim his mate. But for now, you looked so peaceful.

He locked the library door, flipping the sign to closed and letting you get your rest.

DogWitch notes: a part two may be in order if you like??

Part two <3

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! :) I just really love all of your works for Hellsing and an idea popped into my mind. Could you write an Alucard x darling!Reader where Integra sends them on a mission to Brazil in disguise as a newlyweds on their honeymoon? I'm just sooo obsessed with his Riocard look, I thought it would be so fun to imagine! <3

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: To be honest I get you anon. He is so handsome in his RioCard form, with his little glass full of blood and wearing that suit 🤭💕💕. @marieisaghost

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, reader is unsettled by Alucard but both of them keep flirting with one another lol, mention of killing, gn!reader

"Lulu, you travel a lot, don't you?" You turn your face to stare at him, gorgeous smile already on his lips as soon as that little nickname left you. "What is it like in Brazil? How are the people?"

He thought about. Ancient as he was, Alucard was present to see or hear about all major events from humanity. And later on, to visit those same countries, as you two are doing now - hunting for a potentially dangerous vampire who climbed the stairs to the success, he was so important now, so powerful but Integra had her way of getting you and Alucard into one of his big parties.

After a few seconds pondering, Alucard glanced at his glass full of blood, long, dark hair hiding his eyes from you as he chuckled.

"The air smells like golden hour and the birds sing so loud, as if they wish for you to sing among them. The Brazilians are like fairies, if you will, as they can't lie but contour whatever promise they made with polite words and jokes. And the common folk are very affectionate." He sipped from his glass, little trinket of blood running down his lower lip before he could lick it. You laughed at that. "And their words sounds like a gentle song, so familiar yet so distante you can't quite remember where you have heard it."

The gentle hum of the plane's engines filled the cabin, the dim lighting casting soft shadows against the sleek leather seats. You sat beside Alucard, watching the clouds drift by through the small window. A moment goes by before you answer him.

"Quiet poetical, don't you think?" You mused, imagining the country based on his description. "Well, I'm looking forward to see it. We will be able to sightsee after the mission is done, right?"

Alucard turned his head slowly, he was still sipping from his glass, sometimes just shaking it to see the red liquid sway gently. His crimson eyes glimmered with amusement, lips curling into a slow, knowing smile. He always found your mortal, innocent optimism endearing — if not a bit naive. But he never discouraged it outright. No, he enjoyed watching you dangle the idea of freedom, without realizing he was the one holding the string.

He was the one who chose you for this role. So beautiful and all his, pretending to be his cute little spouse.

“Sightseeing?” Alucard repeated, his voice low, filled with the silky cadence you knew too well. He leaned back further into his seat, fingers steepled together as if considering your words. ���That all depends. If the mission goes well and... if you behave, darling.”

You shifted uncomfortably, pretending to be preoccupied with the view outside. Sometimes Alucard took his jokes too far, the line between truth and joke unclear.

“Well, I just thought… if we’re pretending to be newlyweds, we might as well enjoy the facade a little more!” You explained your point of view, trying to sound casual. “A little sightseeing wouldn’t hurt. Husband.”

Alucard’s chuckle was soft but dark, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a beautiful sound yet terrifying in other circumstances. “Oh, you’ve been enjoying this facade more than you admit, darling” He teased, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. “Playing the role of my beloved spouse… It suits you.”

His words were laced with a possessiveness that you couldn’t ignore. You swallowed hard, your heart pounding as you tried to maintain composure under his piercing gaze. Alucard thrived on your uncertainty — on the way you balanced between curiosity and frustration in equal measures. He loved seeing you struggle. You knew that. He was an asshole like that sometimes.

“Maybe,” You replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper and your face heating up. Ultimately it was better to let him have this little win or he'll pout and throw a tantrum the entire time. “But it’s hard to keep up the act sometimes, you’re very convincing. I fear I won't be as convincing as you are.”

Alucard’s smile widened, a dark, predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. He leaned toward you, his cold fingers brushing against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a delicate yet possessive touch. He seemed like he wanted to say something, a secret passing through his eyes, black long hair hiding his face like a curtain, and then he pulled back.

“Rest now, my love,” Alucard said, his voice softer as he reclined back in his seat but the command was clear. "We still have a few hours until we get there. And perhaps, I’ll indulge you with that sightseeing you’re so fond. There's so very interesting places that are open at night.”

You rolled your eyes. "Aye aye captain."

Yoou reached out, your hand sliding around his arm and tugging him toward you. His eyes widened slightly, not in surprise but in curiosity. You didn’t say a word, there was no need. All that mattered was the closeness, the warmth, even if it came from the cold embrace of a vampire. Without a word, you rested your head against his arm, and he allowed you to whatever you wanted, his lips curling into a soft smirk as he watched you for a few seconds.

/⁠～⁠♡

The private plane had landed hours ago, and the sun now hung low on the horizon, casting the hotel room in a warm, golden glow. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the fabric of your outfit, a carefully chosen disguise for the next phase of the mission. The luxurious suite you were in felt almost too extravagant, too different from what you were used but trying to argument with Alucard was near impossível. And he wanted to stay at the most expensive place just for the sake of it.

Greedy vampire, you thought, he wouldn't even be able to sleep. After all, he's used to sleep at morning and you, as a Hellsing soldier, is more than used to sleep in whatever you can lie on during night. Extravagance was not your style.

Behind you, Alucard moved with quiet grace, his eyes fixed on you in the mirror. He had already shed his coat, his shirt untucked slightly, looking every bit the devilish rogue he was. He stepped closer, slipping a gloved hand around your waist, guiding you as you fumbled with the buttons on your collar.

"Let me," He asked, his voice low and smooth, as he brushed your hands away and began fastening the buttons for you. His fingers worked skillfully, but his touch lingered a bit too long. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips.

"You know, I can dress myself," You teased him, raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror.

"Of course you can," Alucard replied with a smirk, not missing a beat. "But why would I miss the chance to enjoy this view?" His hands slid up to adjust the collar, his eyes flickering with amusement.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Alucard chuckled softly, his breath warm against your neck as he leaned in just a bit closer. "I’m many things, love. Impossible is only one of them." He finished with the last button, his hands lingering on your shoulders, fingers tracing the fabric as though he couldn’t help but touch you. You turned slightly to face him, a playful glint in your eyes.

"So husband, what's the plan?" You teased him, emphasizing the word, adjusting your sleeves as he watched you with that ever-present intensity. "Or you're just want to take care of everything alone while I stay helpless by your side, like a damsel?."

Alucard raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. "Playing the damsel role certainly is fun but not safe. Besides it's counterproductive. I'II catch our target while you search his office for those documents."

You nodded, trying to think of ways to enter the target's office, but the warmth in Alucard's eyes made it impossible. His thumb traced small circles against your waist, and though you hated to admit it, his presence was comforting in moments like these, when the mission loomed large and the stakes were high. He knew how you soothe your worries and fears with just a few gestures.

"Focus, Alucard," You said, but your voice lacked any real conviction.

"I am focused," He replied smoothly, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Just… not on the mission right now."

You felt your heartbeat quicken, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him just a little, your fingers brushing the fabric of his shirt. "You’re incorrigible."

His eyes gleamed as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, teasing purr. "And you love it."

You laughed softly, shaking your head again as you turned back toward the mirror. "You’re lucky you’re helping with this mission. Otherwise, I’d leave you to flirt with yourself.

Alucard chuckled, stepping back slightly, though his hand never left your waist. "Oh, I can flirt with myself just fine. But it’s much more fun with you."

You met his gaze in the mirror, your reflection showing the playful tension between you two. Despite everything, the danger, the complexity of your relationship, moments like this felt oddly natural. Easy, even.

"Fine," you said, adjusting the last piece of your outfit and putting your weapons in their proper places. "After this mission and you taking me to sightsee, you should really take me on a date, Alucard. I wouldn't say no."

Alucard’s smirk softened into a more genuine smile as he pressed a kiss to your temple, his hand squeezing your waist lightly. "Whatever you want, darling. But until then…" His eyes sparkled mischievously. "We make quite the team, don’t we?"

You couldn’t argue with that. Despite the chaos, despite the danger, there was something undeniably magnetic about being at his side. Even if he drove you crazy half the time and acted strange sometimes.

"Yeah," You said with a sigh, a smile tugging at your lips. "We do."

The night air was crisp as you stepped out of the grand hotel, the city’s lights reflecting off the polished black limousine waiting at the curb. The distant hum of life in the city created a soft backdrop of noise, but here, in front of the sleek vehicle, everything felt quieter, more intimate. Alucard, as always, had his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he guided you toward the car.

“After you, love,” He said smoothly, his voice laced with amusement as he opened the door for you. His crimson eyes gleamed under the streetlights, and even in the dim evening, he looked effortlessly sharp in his tailored suit, dark and dangerously handsome.

You gave him a playful smirk before slipping into the limousine’s spacious interior. The leather seats were cool against your skin as you settled in, and a faint, luxurious scent lingered in the air. Alucard followed, closing the door behind him as he took the seat beside you.

As the driver began pulling away from the curb, the city lights blurred past the tinted windows, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. Alucard stretched his arm along the back of the seat, his fingers lightly brushing against your shoulder in a way that felt casual yet intentional.

“Excited?” hHe asked, his voice low and teasing as his eyes flickered to yours. “Or is it nerves I sense?”

You glanced at him, rolling your eyes slightly. “Excited isn’t the word I’d use. This is a mission, remember? Focus, Alucard.”

He chuckled, his hand sliding down to lightly squeeze your shoulder. “I’m always focused. It’s you who seems to be on edge, dragul meu.” His voice was a playful murmur, but there was that undercurrent of seriousness you knew all too well. He thrived in these high-stakes situations, while you, well, you preferred a little less danger and a little more simplicity.

You preferred a better plan, you preferred having more allies. Yet, you had to make it do with just Alucard by your side. Either way, you knew he wouldn't let you hurt yourself.

“I’m not on edge,” You retorted lightly, turning to face him fully. “I’m just thinking about the plan. We’re supposed to be subtle, blend in, gather intel. You remember the whole ‘don’t draw attention to ourselves’ part, right?”

Alucard’s lips curled into that familiar, devilish smirk. “Subtlety isn’t always the most fun, but I suppose I can behave for one night.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Of course, if things get boring, I might have to… stir the pot a little.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I prefer the term ‘charming,’” He corrected you, eyes gleaming mischievously.

The limousine cruised through the city, the lights outside glowing brighter as you approached the heart of the bustling nightlife. The party you were heading to was in one of the city’s most elite venues — a towering glass building that loomed in the distance, sparkling against the night sky. The event was exclusive, crawling with high-society types, all hiding secrets beneath their polished exteriors. You and Alucard were here to uncover one of those secrets.

As the limousine neared the grand entrance, you adjusted your clothes, making sure everything was in place. Alucard watched you with an almost predatory gleam in his eyes, though there was a softness in the way his gaze lingered.

“You look stunning,” He murmured, his voice softer now, devoid of the usual teasing edge. “They won’t know what hit them.”

You met his eyes, feeling a flutter in your chest despite yourself. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smirked, leaning in just a bit closer. “Just ‘not so bad?’ I think I deserve more credit than that.”

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Let’s just get through this without any chaos, alright? Then I’ll give you all the credit you want.”

The limousine came to a smooth stop in front of the towering venue, the driver stepping out to open the door for you both. Alucard was out first, offering his hand to help you out, his grip firm but gentle. As you stepped out onto the red carpet, the flashes of cameras and the murmurs of the crowd were already starting.

He pulled you close, his arm slipping around your waist as you both made your way toward the entrance. You could feel the weight of his presence beside you, commanding and magnetic.

“We’ll be the perfect couple tonight,” Alucard whispered into your ear as you ascended the stairs, his breath warm against your skin. “Just follow my lead.”

You glanced up at him, your lips curving into a small smile. “I’m used to that by now.”

With that, you both stepped through the grand doors into the glittering party, where the real game was about to begin.

[qu1cks1lversb1tch]

Killer | Vox x Reader

Warnings: mentions of murder, blood, dead bodies, established relationship (married), HUMAN VOX, NSFW (18+), p in v, slight breeding kink but otherwise vanilla for my first 'smutty' Vox writing, reader is heavily implied to be female, Valentino existing

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: Your husband came home from work to find a rather interesting sight in his living room. . . Made him wanna do a thing or two. . . Idk 💀✨

A/N — I couldn't not use this gif — I love it. I don't mention him by name until the end because we don't know what his name was while he was alive. . . It could've been Vox in both, but I'm not taking chances, so I used sweet little names instead. . . He also has dark hair and blue eyes in my mind. HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS ONE 💕 (I drew/made the MDNI banner myself — tell me you're proud of me. . . I'm gonna pretend I didn't write this when I wake up tomorrow 😭, but hopefully someone does like it)

Blood dripped from the hand of the body that was carelessly draped across the coffee table, the metallic smelling crimson staining the white rug below.

You stood firmly, hands on your hips as you stared at your husband, who, in turn, stared at the body as if it would suddenly disappear if he looked away.

"You killed her." He stated rather plainly, a glint in his eyes as he turned to look at you in all of your glory — bloodied hands, stained apron tied around your waist, hair tousled, and ripped pantyhose. . . It was odd for him to see you so unkempt. Had he not been your childhood friend turned lover and husband, you might have had something snarky to say in response to his obvious comment.

You hummed, assessing the expanding puddle on the new rug that nearly costed a fortune. "Yes, it seems I have."

"Did she deserve it?"

"They always do." You replied nonchalantly, removing your hands from your hips as you walked towards your husband — silently thanking whatever higher power that the blood on your hands had dried. You pulled him down by his tie and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Welcome home, my love. . . Dinner will be done shortly. It's your favorite."

"I'll handle the mess while you finish up." Came his response.

You smiled as a thank you before going off into the kitchen to wash up the last couple dishes and stir the pot of stew that had been cooking low and slow all afternoon.

Your beloved husband entered the kitchen a bit later, hands coated in dirt and blood with the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows.

He stood there for a moment watching you as if you were an animal of prey and he was an apex predator. Your breath hitched when that glint of something familiar returned to his electric blue gaze.

Within a moment, his hands drenched in sticky blood found your face, gently caressing it and leaving trails of the viscoelastic fluid behind as he brought you into a rough yet passionate kiss.

His hands trailed down your clothed body until they reached your thighs. . . With his fingers grasping the plush flesh, he hoisted you onto the counter top.

"Are you certain you want to do this before dinner, Honey?" You asked breathlessly just as his hands fell to his belt buckle, hastily undoing it with the metallic clicks of the silver colored mechanism, the leather falling from the silvery confines.

"No time like the present, Doll." He replied, practically ripping the button from the hole of his perfectly tailored suit pants.

"Carry on, Darling." You hummed.

He bunched up the skirt of your dress before reaching just below and ripping a large hole in the already destroyed pantyhose, all to gain access to the already soaked cotton fabric beneath.

The singular piece of fabric that separated your pussy from the warmed air of the kitchen.

"All mine. . ." He muttered in awe, rubbing the pad of his thumb up and down the large spot of arousal that had formed since he arrived home. You couldn't help it. Your husband was a fine specimen.

You whined at the need for something more; your darling husband only smirked before completely ripping the beloved pair of panties away, tossing them to the floor — he always said he'd get you more, and he always did. His thumb returned, slipping through your glistening folds before gravitating towards the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Need you, Honey, please. . ." Your sweet voice cut through the silence with a whimper at the end — that was all it took for your husband's restraint to fly out the window.

He freed his bulging cock from the confines of his pants and boxers, immediately lining it up with the entrance. With your silent nod of approval, he slowly slid it into your sopping wet pussy.

He grunted as he bottomed out, paired almost perfectly with your moan as you adjusted to his sheer length and girth — it didn't matter how many times the two of you fucked, it was always like the first time.

After a moment he began thrusting and your sweet noises filled the room along with the sound of skin on skin. One of his hands held on to your waist so you wouldn't slip, and the other held on tightly to the counter.

"Taking me so well just like you always do, Doll." He grunted in your ear, his pace picking up as you moaned his name like a prayer on the lips of an angel, your fingers laced in his soft, dark hair.

It wasn't very long before the coil within began to build with pressure until it finally snapped, bringing you to a much needed orgasm that caused you to release your hold on his hair and clench around him, unintentionally milking your husband's cock. He came, painting your insides white, yet his thrusts didn't cease until he felt the very last drop enter you.

He then pulled out slowly, using his thumb to push his seed back inside of you as it tried to escape. "Gonna be a good mother one day, Doll."

"I'll try to be," you replied breathlessly before plastering a smile on your face, as if you didn't get railed in the kitchen by your husband, where your neighbor could've seen. "Dinner?"

"That sounds good, Doll. . . Let's get you cleaned up."

Sixty or so years later. . .

"Remember that time we fucked in the kitchen with a dead body two rooms over because the ground was frozen, so we couldn't dispose of it properly?" You questioned casually at dinner.

Vox looked up from his plate, a smirk falling onto his face. "Which time?"

"Well, this just got interesting." Valentino muttered into his drink, looking between you and Vox.

"When I killed Dorothy, of course."

"Can you not talk about your serial killer sex shit at the table!? I'd like to eat without the imagery." Velvette groaned, sliding her plate back slightly.

"Would you rather listen to Val talk about all the positions he's had his new favorite toy in?" Vox questioned.

"Hey!" Valentino whined.

[bat-mom-writer]

Theatrical Trio

Reader(Mother) X Bat boys (Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and a little bit of Damian)

(I do not own any DC characters)

"Jason, have you seen our dearly beloved mother?" Dick say with a dramatic flair, to his non biological brother, even as they stood outside the open office where she ignored them.

"No, Dick. I can't seem to locate her anywhere. It's as if she's vanished into thin air," Jason quipped with a smirk, his eyes scanning the corridor as if expecting her to pop out from behind a painting.

Their adaptive mother, from her perch behind the large mahogany desk, couldn't help but overhear the commotion her stepsons had brought into the otherwise serene office. She took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of leather and the lingering aroma of paper and ink. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she paused for a moment, her eyes momentarily closing as she felt the weight of her responsibilities press down on her.

"Surely she hasn't left us," Dick exclaimed with a dramatic flair that was only matched by the theatrical tilt of his head. "

Jason rolled his eyes, his smirk widening into a full-blown smile as he leaned against the wall. "Oh, I'm positive she's around here somewhere, playing the devoted wife to our dear father, Batman."

"What if she has been captured?" Dick gasped, his eyes widening as he clutched at Jason's shirt. "What if our poor weak mother has been taken by a villain?"

Jason also gasps, grabbing Dick by his shirt as well, "The horror! The humanity!" he exclaimed, playing along with the melodrama.

Tim, noticing the attention he's not receiving, decides to one-up his brothers by dramatically collapsing to the floor, writhing in exaggerated pain. "Mother! Oh, where is my mother?" he cries out, his voice echoing through the hallway. The sound is a mix of desperation and the theatrics they've all become too familiar with. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly, and his body contorts as if in the throes of a terrible agony. The floor beneath him is cold and hard, but he ignores it for the sake of his performance.

Dick, playing the heroic sibling, rushes over to Tim, dropping to his knees in an instant. He cradles Tim's head in his arms, his grip firm but gentle. "Brother!" he exclaims with a mix of concern and irritation at Tim's dramatics. "What's happened?"

Tim, his eyes still squeezed shut, fake coughs, the sound a pitiful and exaggerated rasp that seems to resonate through the very walls of the Wayne Manor. He lets out a dramatic moan, his body shaking as if with fever. "I... I have gone to long without mother's attention."

She can't hold back a chuckle at their antics. But holds her eyes on the papers in front of her, not daring to also her dramatic adaptive sons win.

Dick, his eyes widening. "Don't go into the light, Tim!" he yells, "Mother will return to us, I swear it!" 

Tim's dramatic act reaches its crescendo as he flings an arm dramatically across his face, his body going limp. "Tell her... tell her that I... I..." He pauses for dramatic effect, his chest rising and falling in exaggerated breaths, "that I loved her." With his tongue shot out, he lays limp, and dies.

Dick, not missing a beat, lets out a wail that could wake the dead. "No!" he cries out, his hand flying to his heart. His eyes brim with fake tears that threaten to spill over any second. He looks up to the high ceiling of the manor, as if pleading to the heavens for their mother's return.

Jason, his smirk now replaced with a dramatically furrowed brow, says solemnly, "We are orphans once more!" His arms spread wide, gesturing to the empty space around them. The light from the chandelier above casts shadows that dance along the walls, adding an eerie touch to their over-the-top performance.

Their mother finally looks up from her desk, unable to suppress her laughter any longer. She stands up, her figure poised and elegant even amidst the chaos. "You three really need to get a grip," she says, her voice a blend of amusement and exasperation.

Her sons' heads whip around to face her, their expressions a mix of shock and relief. Dick jumps to his feet, his dramatic wail cutting off abruptly. "Mother!" he says, his voice now genuine.

"Rise, my dear Timothy," she says with a gentle smile, "Your dramatics, while entertaining, are unnecessary. I am right here."

Tim's eyes flutter open, "Mother, is it really you?" he says, the fake strain in his voice more clear then air.

"No, it's Alfried. Who do you think it is?" she teases, her voice light and playful.

In an instant, the three brothers drop their dramatic facades and rush towards her, their arms outstretched. They group hug her with a collective sigh of relief, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the morning sun. Dick's strong arms wrap around her waist, while Jason's embrace is tight and fierce. Tim, ever the youngest, wraps his arms around her legs, his head nestled into her stomach. "We were so concerned, mother. You mustn't leave us again." Dick's says, with a voice could have fooled Shakespeare.

"I assure you, I had no intention of abandoning my post," she responds with a laugh, her arms circling around their shoulders, her hands patting their backs in a comforting gesture. "Your father had some urgent business to attend to and I had to step in for him."

Damian, the youngest of the trio, strolls into the room, his eyes scanning the scene with a raised eyebrow. He's used to his brothers' dramatics, but the addition of their mother to the mix is a new twist. "Should I ask?" he says, his voice dry and unimpressed.

She shakes her head, "No. Did you need something?" she asks him, her tone warm despite the earlier theatrics.

Damian, with a slight smirk, "Dinners ready. And it smells like Alfred went full Gordon Ramsay in the kitchen."

Dick, breaking the embrace, straightens his posture. "Ah, the sweet scent of roast beef and... is that rosemary?" He inhales deeply, his eyes lighting up. "Lead the way, my esteemed siblings, for we shall make haste to the dining hall!"

Jason nods solemnly, "Indeed, our stomachs cry out for sustenance. On words, brother!" He and Dick, with a sudden burst of energy, each grab one of her arms, lifting her off the ground with surprising ease.

"Put me down, you hooligans!" She exclaims with a laugh, her feet dangling in the air. She feels the strength of her sons, a reminder of the powerful young men they've become under their father's tutelage and her own nurturing care.

Tim, not missing the cue, grabs her legs, his grip firm but playful. "Make way for the queen!" he calls out, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

She laughs, a sound that fills the hallway and dispels any lingering tension. "Fine, fine," she says, allowing them to carry her. "But remember, I expect no less than a royal treatment at the dinner table."

The four of them make their way to the grand dining hall, their laughter echoing through the hallowed halls of Wayne Manor. The walls, lined with portraits of the Wayne ancestors, seem to watch with amusement as the modern-day heirs act out their playful drama. The chandeliers cast a warm glow over the polished floor, which reflects their jovial procession as they move towards the enticing aroma of dinner.

[starchants]

hi! i don’t know if you write for spike (btvs) but could you maybe write dating spike hcs? sfw & nsfw?

william ‘spike’ pratt x neutral!reader ; dating headcanons.

word count — 884.

themes + warnings ; some lovely fluff, some hints of angst thrown in because of our beloved troublesome tortured poet and some nsfw content as well!

author’s note — hi my lil starling <3! i do most certainly write for our favorite lil bad boy spike, i hope you enjoy <3! depressingly, i believe, this is shorter than my one with angel but that doesn’t mean that i don’t love him any less! i just literally ran out of headcanons at the moment cause my brain stopped working whoops! i could always expand upon him on a later date like i can with angel.

support mention ; if you feel like supporting, a nice ‘like’ will suffice on my blog, i know some writers love to ask nicely if you could reblog or comment etc. yet on my blog (no hate towards them as everyone likes appreciation in different ways), but if you’d like to reblog or comment feel free after all this is a safe space for any fan-individual to have fun :’)

masterlist

alright let’s state the obvious about our favorite troublesome poet : he will write tons of poems about you. his favorite topic to write about would be about love, at least i headcanon from his former human life, and so when he finds himself enthralled with you, you become his center focus in his beloved artship.

even if you do not like poetry, still please be supportive of him especially when you learn why he doesn't write his poetry as often as he used to when he was human. you see, in my personal headcanon, william (his human self of course) had been seen as too soft for a man as he liked the more feminine oddities such as : poetry, flowers, jewelry, fashion, and baking. mind you, this is all my personal headcanons as to why he was seen as soft.

so this vamp would adore you so so much more if you were to let him be himself and perhaps show interest in the oddities that he likes. obviously he would be the most supportive of you but if he was super supportive of you and didn't receive any back, i feel like he’d be put off of you despite how he feels towards you.

if you are an artistic soul like he is, spike would proudly marvel over your art — no matter how melancholy it might appear to be. he would goat about how his partner is the best at (insert your craft(s) here) and it would get to the point that the whole scooby gang would in-synchronicity claim "we know!" which would turn him into a blushing stuttering mess as he tries to play it off that he doesn't talk about your craft(s) that much. he contradicts himself sometimes as we all know.

he is the definition of a badass with a good soft heart. y'all get stuck out in the rain? he`s sacrificing his good leather and placing it over your head as he moves the pair of you underneath something where you would be dry and then y'all can watch the rain fall down upon sunnydale in a pretty lil art form. anyone happens to look at you in a wrong or potentially harmful way? spike is throwing hands with his vamp face out to scare them halfway to death before he even touches them. he`s a little protective over you, that`s all.

he’s obsessed with your touch. he’s severely touch deprived even if he doesn’t show it — please show him that he is capable of love, one that doesn’t surround around the madness of the woman who he believed to have been his soulmate before you came into his life. the man would be so touchy with you in private, especially if you did any hobbies of his that he loves — meaning baking of course! he would wrap his arms around your middle and use his hands to help you with anything you need for baking. definitely the type of man to put you on his feet and the pair of you penguin waddle together to put the trays in the oven for whatever you’re baking.

speaking of him being obsessed with your touch … time for a lil bit of nsfw 😈

spike is definitely a switch with a bratty sub lean, i mean literally just look at this vampire. he tries to act like a badass who is known for causing trouble over the years and yet if you play your cards just right you can turn him from a brat into your precious boy, but that takes a while. i tend to headcanon that even though drusilla loved him in the way she did, she never got to have him this way, and spike only trusts you to show this side of him. despite the trust, he will indeed make you work for it like i said previously. but you know how to handle your troublesome boy and how to practically turn him into a puddle with your mere touch overtime.

he’s definitely a mean service dom though when he is in a the dominant state of mind. man loves to torture you and deny your orgasms left and right only for a few turns though and then sends you over the edge quite a few times after that. he turns you into a total mess for his own pleasure but the aftercare is spectacular fr!

his version of aftercare is ; cleaning you up with a towel while smothering you with kisses all over as soon as he wipes down each and every spot upon your body, then he goes and gives you a drink (whether water or your favorite soda or alcoholic drink or maybe a blood bag if you’re a vampire like him — y’alls choice!) before he goes off to fill up a bath with the rainbow colored child bubbles that he found at the store the other day, and then he carries you in there once the bath is all filled. then he goes on to wash your body and hair for you while making sure that you’re genuinely alright with whatever occurred during your time together, then he asks you for whatever you want or need — his beloved flower’s wish is his command that he wishes never ends.

[anemonelovesfiction]

Use Your Words

Lo’ak x Fem Human Reader x Tsireya

Warnings ⚠️: Established Relationship (between Lo’ak and Tsireya), Virgin! Reader, Fingering!, Eating out! (Mostly) Voyeur Lo’ak! (Except you know he’s there, and he speaks)

MDNI 🔞

Reader (you) has a tendency to stare at and avoid Tsireya outside of a group setting, so she gets asked why she does this, but you can’t come up with a clear answer, so Lo’ak and Tsireya coax the answer out of you, but you avoid answering her, so her and her mate figure out a plan to get you to use your words

Translation Station

Olo’eyktan: Clan Leader

Marui: Home

Tsmuke: Sister

Tawtute: Sky Person (human)

Sa’nu: Mum, Mommy

Tsakarem: Tsahik in training

Irayo: Thank you

Marui: Home (in Metkayina)

Srane: Yes

Paysyul: Water Lily

Tewng: Loincloth

Yawne: Beloved

Syulang: Flower

Tswin: Neural Queue

Word Count: 5.9 k

My fingers worked diligently as they continued braiding the leather bracelet in my hands, weaving the braids tightly together to maintain its shape, my mind working a million miles a minute as I attempt to finish this bracelet while watching the beautiful goddess before me. Her hands coming to squeeze her hair from the excess water it was carrying, watching as the water dribbles down her forearms and drip off her elbows, eyes shamefully looking between the valley of her breasts and watching as the water glides down her cleavage.

I feel a heavy heat settling on my face right as Lo’ak comes into view to greet her, my eyes finding my fingers as they continue weaving through the bracelet I planned to give Tuktirey for her birthday, noticing that my weaving looked consistent. A sigh leaves my lips as I find a natural stopping point, wanting to pick back up at a later time to give my fingers some much needed rest, and possibly stop myself from continuing to stare at the teal woman several feet away from me.

“You stared at her for less time.”

I looked back up to see Neteyam side-eyeing me, a small smirk playing at his lips as he looks at me, eyes turning back on his own work, he was attempting to make a proper courting gift for one of the girls in the clan that had managed to capture his attention.

After his almost fatal attempt being deemed heroic by the Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina, most girls decided it was the appropriate time to flaunt themselves and their skills toward Neteyam, in hopes of being chosen as his mate and having the ultimate bragging rights. But very few had decided to keep their distance from him, one of which had managed to capture his heart, as she treated him with a kindness that wasn’t out of pity.

“Why don’t you tell them how you feel?” He asks as he snaps me out of my own thoughts. The beach was in perfect view from the marui we resided in, which is why Lo’ak had decided to run off the second he’d seen Tsireya coming up the shoreline, feeling myself ducking my head out of embarrassment as I came to realize I’d been staring at them again.

“Are you kidding me?” I scoff at his words, physically turning my body to face his to prevent myself from zoning out at the two on the beach, jealousy filling my body as I think of how easy it is for them to be together, regardless of how different they were from one another.

“What?” He asks at his own suggestion, stopping himself from working on his craft as he turns his head to look up at me, shrugging his shoulders as he notices nothing wrong with the question he’s asked, it warmed my heart that he thought of me as his family enough to not notice the obvious difference.

“It’s sweet that you think of me as your tsmuke, Neteyam, but you have to be honest with yourself and remember that I’m tawtute, not na’vi.” I stated.

“You might just be surprised if you put yourself out there.” He speaks while shrugging his shoulders, it almost sounded as though he’d been alluding to something but I couldn’t help the eye roll piercing through as I shake my head at the same time.

“When are you finally going to tell Ayari you like her?” I asked, flipping the script and watching as his once cobalt blue skin flushes with a purple tinge, a blush covering his features and I couldn’t help but let a smile cover mine.

“At least I’m working on it.” He stated simply before going back to work on his craft.

_________

“Pff,” I huff as I begin to think about Neteyam’s suggestion earlier, I had currently been walking toward Ronal’s healing hut with a heavy basket in my hands, struggling to carry it with all of the contents inside, but it was mostly my fault I’d been in this situation in the first place.

I had lot’s of plants whose healing properties were needed for the Tsahik and instead of placing them in my human sized basket to make two trips, I’d selfishly placed them in a pattern where none of them would get smushed, in a Na’Vi sized basket instead, using my hip to hold onto the bottom as my hands struggled to carry the sides.

I would have also been a panting mess had I not been stubborn, I refused to show anyone around me any weakness and had to pretend I was doing just fine, I’d gotten several double takes as the people had seen me walk around the woven walkway, the bouncing action making carrying the basket almost unbearable, but now that I was feeling the sand in my toes and the hut was in view, I couldn’t turn back.

As I approached the hut with the basket barely in my grasp I wondered how I was going to get through the curtains without taking the entire length of them in with me, but by some miracle, or Eywa selfishly listening in to the thoughts of my mind, they were split down the middle as a teal arm had held them out of the way, as I look up to excuse myself to whoever was above me I tense, the basket nearly dropping before my fingers flexed and grasped them harder.

“How are you carrying that?” Her voice was mixed with confusion and awe a she steps out of the way, keeping her hand on the curtain she had held and gives me a walkway toward the desk I usually set my basket on.

“You have decided to become efficient, Y/n.” Ronal was quick to spare a glance at me before settling her mortar and pestle down, she appears to have just finished cleaning it as she stretches, her hands placed on her lower back for some support, I’m sure her pregnant belly was heavy as she lets out a content sigh, I ignored her comment.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” I replied almost automatically, not wanting to have ignored Tsireya’s comment as I answered her mother, but truly not knowing what to say to answer her question, but by the looks of it, it appeared as though she would be leaving soon either way, but I held my breath out of my own anxiousness.

“It is appreciated.” Ronal answered as she stands from the chair she had been sitting in, her sigh being an indication that she had been done with whatever task she had been working on, ready to begin the next.

“I will see you later, I must go meet with your father, Y/n can help you put the herbs away.” She is quick to answer and I can feel the hairs on my body stand at attention at her remark. How was I supposed to spend the entire afternoon helping Tsireya put stuff away when I couldn’t hold a proper conversation with her outside of the group setting?

“Alright Sa’nu,” She replies to her mother as I stiffly turn my neck over to watch as Ronal gingerly takes Tsireya’s cheeks in her hands, leaning down to kiss her daughters forehead, my cheeks growing hot at the display of affection between the two, my face turning back immediately as my hand reaches out to fiddle with the herbs and plants in the basket.

_________

I could only focus on properly picking the herbs apart as I placed the stems into one basket and the leaves in another, eyes scaling the stems gently before moving onto the next, ensuring that each leaf has been plucked off and each stem was bare.

The leaves from the herb I currently had in my hands were used in cooking dishes to enhance the flavor of the dish itself, kind of like a seasoning that was favored here, the stem, however, is ground up into a paste using an oil to help break it down. Since I was not the tsakarem I was not allowed to tamper with the mixings and makings of the medicine they used, but I could help around with organization, stocking, and plucking.

I’d been sitting silently as to not interrupt with Tsireya’s concentration, but it was proving to be difficult as I’d often find myself looking up to steal glances at the beautiful teal woman, grateful to Eywa that she had not captured my stare with her own, slight sweat starting to build on my brow as I nervously plucked along and settled the stem into its basket, feeling her hand touch mine as she had taken that opportunity to grab more stems for the paste she was making.

My hand is quick to move back but her light hearted laughter is what catches me off guard, I had not expected to hear such a melodious sound so early in the afternoon, my eyes curiously reaching up and feeling my body freeze as I met hers.

“If I didn’t know any better I would assume you disliked me,” She speaks as she places the few strands of stem she had grabbed into the mixture she held, moving the pestle along the shape of the mortar to grind the stem down.

I had no idea if I should fake a small, laugh, or think of a response to her words, kind of sitting there and staring at her like an idiot seemed to be the only option I had at that moment, but I wasn’t expecting her to end up looking back at me and watch her smile drop as I stared at her, was I being a creep?

“Is that why you don’t speak to me when we are alone?” She asks as if a sudden realization had hit her, her ears lowering slightly as she asks her question and I could only stupidly stare at her, uncertain of what to say.

“I guess I hadn’t realized I did that,” I hadn’t meant for those words to leave my mouth, it happened to be the first thought to run through my head, and unfortunately out of my mouth. I could see as Tsireya looks away from me, shaking her head slightly as she smiles, focusing on the paste before her.

“Lo’ak believes I am crazy for thinking you avoid me.” I could feel my eyes widen at her confession as she had stated it so evenly, no wobble detected in her voice. I could only swallow as her eyes meet mine again, the smile she had never leaving her lips, and I could feel my breath being taken away at that moment, a slight burn in my chest the longer I stared at her.

“I-“ I stop myself from speaking as I attempt to draw in a breath at the same time, feeling that burning sensation going away before clearing my throat.

“I don’t mean to avoid you.” I answered her again but felt my voice quiver and wanted to punch myself for having shown too much emotion.

“Why do you?” She asks and it felt like a punch to the gut and I hadn’t expected her to be this bold with her questions today.

“…” What do I say at this point, I avoid you because I like you, but I also like the guy I grew up with at the same time because my mind does not comprehend how to like just one person?

“I have to go-“ I mutter before standing abruptly and leaving the healing hut. Feeling as though the air from the hut was too hot, the sweat running down my forehead wasn’t helping cool my skin, until the breeze calmed me down as soon as I was out of the hut.

_________

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out, huh?” Lo’aks voice breaks me out of my concentration and I can feel my heart begin to race, I’d decided against going to dinner to avoid Tsireya once more, not wanting our conversation to pick up where it left off, especially if Lo’ak was around, that would be embarrassing.

But I’d also taken the opportunity to avoid Lo’ak as well, since I’d had an inkling that Tsireya may have told him what had happened, leading the two of them to confront me together, and that was a bridge I wasn’t willing to cross.

“Wasn’t feeling good,” I muttered past my lips without sparing him a glance, lying to him as I answered, finally realizing that my fingers had stopped braiding the bracelet I wanted to finish for Tuk, trying and failing to remember which strand went next.

“You’re lucky I pay attention.” He mentions as he squats in front of me, sliding something my into my lap, my eyes snapping up to meet his, moving my gaze to settle upon my lap and seeing a slice of fruit there, I couldn’t bring myself to concentrate, bracelet me damned, I’d lost my place with it anyway.

I could see his hands meet one another as he interlocks his fingers from the corners of my eye, I could feel his stare burning holes at the top of my head, feeling a heat rise up to my cheeks, choosing to not say another word as I couldn’t think of anything smart at the moment.

“Irayo,” I surprise myself by breaking the silence, not having realized I’d spoken until the heat rose to my cheeks once more.

“You look fine to me,” He replies to my previous comment about not feeling well. I could only stare up at him through my lashes as I attempt to scramble my thoughts for a reasonable lie.

“Think before you speak, Y/n.” He warns and I felt as though I had been caught in a lie- which I had been- I could only duck my head and avoided eye contact with him, unsure of what to do with my hands and kept them by my side, the juices of the fruit starting to stain my thighs as I left it there.

“I didn’t want to go to dinner.” I only feel some relief for revealing half the truth, knowing he was going to question me, not knowing how to respond to whatever question he’d have.

“Why did you not want to go to dinner?” He asks, one of his brows raising in the process, I could feel the shame start to swallow me whole as I bit my lip, not wanting to answer.

Because I was avoiding your mate didn’t sound like a practical answer, but his gaze was too intense to look away from.

“Because I wasn’t feeling goo-“ I started by going with the first thought in my head, not getting far enough to complete the sentence as he cuts me off with an eye roll and a stern voice.

“Try again.”

I scoff at his words and let a nervous laugh escape my lips, disbelief filling my features as I look back over at him, his face looking unamused.

“Lo’ak, I’m telling the truth-“

“So this is where you disappear to, I would have thought you went chasing after Tsireya.” Neteyam jokes as he enters the marui, and I couldn’t have felt more relieved that he’d walked in at that moment.

I could feel the anger radiating off of Lo’ak as I feel my shoulders relax, thankful that Neteyam had chosen that moment to walk in, I don’t think I could have faced telling him the truth.

_________

The cool breeze into the night had scattered across my skin as I sat on the beach with my toes buried in the sand. My hair had been flowing freely as each curly strand decided to dance in its own way, I allow a sigh to pass my lips as I stared out into the water before feeling the weight of a familiar hand drape itself across my shoulders.

I turn my head with a soft smile, he returns the smile but it does not meet his eyes, his brows furrowing as soon as he’s sat right beside me.

“What is it?” I asked without having to dive too deep into the question, knowing he was going to understand what I meant, I’m thinking his talk with Y/n did not go very well. I reach over to grasp his hand in mine and give him a reassuring squeeze.

“She avoided answering my question.” He stated somberly, I could see him tighten his jaw as soon as his mouth closed and I could feel his frustration.

“What do you think we should do?” I asked as I sat beside him, face turning back to the lapping waves of the ocean, the splashes calming me down enough to return my breathing to normal.

“Are you absolutely certain about this?” He asks as he lets my hand go, and places them on his head as his knees come close to his chest, his thoughts must be going wild right about now.

“I dreamt about the three of us together and it felt right, I believe it was a sign from Eywa, so I told my mother about it-“

“You told your mom?” His was in disbelief, his legs outstretched immediately as he looked at me with widened eyes, I would have laughed had it not been a serious conversation.

“She said she would keep it between us, and she is tsahik, she confirmed that it must have been a sign the great mother provided for me, but was very disturbed about it being a tawtute…” I trailed off

“But the true question is if she feels the same,” He stated, uncertainty filling his voice as he speaks, my heart hurting as I wanted to comfort him.

“I know she does.” I reassured him as I began to think of her avoiding me at dinner, had she not already had feelings for us she would have showed, without the fear of our conversation continuing, and she would not have run off in the first place.

“Well then,” Lo’ak seemed to have a sudden mischievous glint in his eye. “Whats the plan?” He asks as a smile starts to grow on his face.

_________

Learning to ride on the back of an Ilu was difficult. When I started learning, I had to be partnered up with someone who could connect to the beautiful creature in the first place, but everyone usually went too quick causing the water to shoot up my nose regardless. But whenever I rode with Kiri -or that one time I went with Tsireya- they made the Ilu move slower, and I felt like I could enjoy the breath taking scenery before me, and those were the moments I often cherished.

But I’d made the mistake of allowing Tuk to take me for a ride not too long after she had learned how to ride an Ilu, the others were taking a leisurely swim as they watched her take the Ilu out for a spin.

But the moment my head finally broke through the water, I was a mess, my mask had become dislodged -like it usually did when people rode their Ilu too fast- and water had shot up my nose, leaving a burning sensation behind as I attempted to empty the water from my mask before reattaching it to my face, a seemingly never ending cough taking over.

“Oh my-“ I’d heard Kiri through my coughing spell, attempting to take a breath but failing as another cough was in the way.

“Tuk!” I could hear Lo’ak’s accusatory voice as I felt someone lifting me out of the water, my body going limp against theirs as I searched for warmth, my coughing starting to calm down as the breaths were finally reaching my lungs.

“I didn’t mean to!” I could hear her whine, a soothing hand being placed on my back as it runs in gentle circles in an attempt to calm me down, finally feeling a deep breath and sighing as I had stopped coughing.

“Thank you,” I mutter at the person who was carrying me.

“You could have taken it slower,” Lo’ak was still going at it with Tuk and it actually caught me by surprise as he was usually laid back, I would have expected him to have been laughing along with Ao’nung.

“I told him to go slow!” Tuk whines back with her brother.

“Do you feel better?”

I go rigid as I realize whose arms I’m and feel a sense of urgency to disappear, maybe even dive back into the water and swim away, but there was no use as she’d out-swim me.

“Mhm,” I answered as I nod my head that was still on her shoulder, feeling as my tummy filled with warmth as my anxiety started to sky rocket.

I could feel her hand leave my back, placing it on my bum to get a better hold on me, but I could have sworn it was done on purpose and feel my face growing hot, all of the loudness between Tuk and Lo’ak had gone away as all I could focus on were her hands on my bottom.

“Come on Tuk, just leave it,” I could see Kiri dragging her away from the corner of my eyes as Tuk sticks her tongue out at her brother, but that just meant I was left with Tsireya and Lo’ak. I bite back a groan as I wished Neteyam and Spider were here, swiveling my forehead onto Tsireya’s shoulder and closing my eyes, taking in a big breath and knowing what was coming.

“Are you okay?” Lo’ak asks me and I can feel my heart quicken in my chest off his voice alone, I’m certain I would have started shaking had Tsireya not been holding me, her body keeping me warm.

I could only nod my head against her shoulder not daring to look back at him wanting to remain hidden from their stares.

“Use your words,” Lo’ak coaxes, the water indicating he began stepping closer as it sloshes a bit, going still as I feel a four-fingered hand on my back.

“Srane,” I answered nervously, still hiding my eyes from the pair.

“Good.” He answers before taking his hand off of me, just when I think I’m home free I feel his hand underneath the chin strap of my mask, my face being pulled away from it’s hidden spot and coming to face his.

“Now tell me,” He begins as he slightly tilts his head to the side.

“Are you avoiding us?”

_________

Fangs found their way onto my neck as they scraped along my pulse point, goosebumps being left on my body as they dragged deliciously on my sensitive skin, my head lolled to the side as I allowed Tsireya to mark me as she wished.

I couldn’t keep my hands to myself and gasped as she started to suckle on my pulse point, my hands being woven into the ringlets of her hair as my nails felt her scalp, a soft hiss coming from her mouth as she dug her fangs into my neck lightly.

“Careful,” Lo’ak’s voice makes me open my eyes, mine making contact with his, my lip coming between my teeth as I attempt to focus on him.

“Maybe she doesn’t want me to be careful,” Tsireya speaks, bringing her hands from my cheek down my arm, goosebumps left in their wake as I shiver.

“Do you paysyul?” She speaks as she addressed me this time, but before I could even think of what to say, her mouth is back on my neck and a moan is escaping my mouth.

“See?” She teases him with her words as her lips trail down toward my collarbones, teeth lightly nipping the area and causing my skin to erupt in a new set of goosebumps, my eyes travel toward Lo’ak to see his jaw hardened as he looks at the back of Tsireya’s head, his eyes trailing over toward mine before settling a smirk on his features.

“Do you?” He repeats the question smoothly, it has heat rising up to my face and I felt guilty for not responding verbally, just a quick tip of my head as I closed my mouth, having wondered if I’d looked stupid for leaving my mouth open after moaning.

“Hmm.” He hums as he looks downward, his eyes moving up to look at me through his lashes. “What does that buy her, darling?” He asks aloud.

Before I could attempt to figure out what he’d meant when he said that, a stinging sensation burns my bottom as the sound of a slap resonates within the walls of their marui. A shocked gasp leaves my lips just as Tsireya chuckles, my hands finally coming free from her hair as I laid them next to my body to support myself, knees buckling a little.

“You have to use your words with us, paysyul.” She comments before kissing down my chest and reaching the valley of my breast, my top stopping her from being able to do that.

My eyes hadn’t left Lo’ak and I watch as he raises a brow at me, silently wondering if I had gotten past my shock and understood what Tsireya was telling me, I could feel her eyes staring holes into my head as well, I move my head towards her and feel my face heating up once more.

A flurry of unrecognizable shapes were felt across the skin of my waist as she impatiently waits for me to say anything, but my mouth had suddenly dried up, and my tongue felt like lead.

The top I wore was easy to take off, it was the same fabric as my tewng was, only big enough to cover my breasts, but it was tied on my backside, something I wasn’t sure she knew how to take off.

“Please take my top off,” I finally spoke, breaking through the silence and feeling her finger grasp the string tying my shirt onto my body, the fabric loosening its hold on me, I shrugged my shoulders and feel the fabric bunch up as it slides off of them.

She surprises me as she grasps the fabric and gently pulls it away from my body, the act alone making my nipples stand at attention as she discards the cloth, all without taking her eyes off mine.

“Go ahead.” Lo’ak instructs his mate and I feel as her arm glides up from my waist and onto my breast, giving it the slightest of squeezes, a surge of warmth traveling down toward my cunt. She smiles as her fingers grasp my nipple and give it a twirl.

My body twitches at her touch, her other hand coming up toward my other nipple and repeating the process, my gasp cutting through the silent marui.

“Why don’t you put her in your mouth, yawne?” Lo’ak suggests as he stands behind her, my eyes moving to meet his figure as he stands with his hands behind his back, his eyes on his mate.

Before I could even move my eyes toward Tsireya to watch her movements, I feel a sense of warmth wrapping itself around my breast, her tongue having flicked my nipple as her other hand continues to tease the other.

“Tsireya,” I gasp and buck my hips against the thigh she’d managed to wedge there, a moan ripples past my lips at the sensation.

I can hear -and feel- her hum of approval before feeling her hand abandoned the nipple she’d been toying with, taking her mouth off the one she’d been licking, and trading places, another gasp and low moan resonating within the walls of the marui.

Her tongue had flattened once she reaches my nipple before twirling it with the tip of her muscle, my hips wanting to feel the relief they did, but she had moved her thigh, a chuckle coming from her as she realizes what I’d tried to do.

“Please,” I whined pathetically before hearing Lo’ak hum, my eyes had shut on their own without my knowledge until I opened them back up to see him with a smirk on his face.

I’d already started panting from the attention Tsireya had been giving me, but I was desperate to feel more.

“What do you need?” Lo’ak’s voice was deeper than I’d ever heard it before, it had my arousal spiking as I let out a short moan in response to his question, he only retaliates by squatting down on his feet, arm reaching out to touch my thigh.

His big warm hand was suffocating my thigh, he could easily grasp it if he wanted, but he didn’t, and I could hear a whine coming from the back of my throat at the contact.

“Use your words, syulang.” He speaks clearly just as Tsireya pops off my nipple, my eyes falling onto hers as I’m sure I looked a mess.

“I want you to eat me out,” I gasp at the words coming from my mouth before seeing the beauty before me smile sweetly.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” She admits before her hand trails down toward my waist, tickling my sides as she does so, a light laughter bubbling from me and it helps relax my nerves, her fingers work quick and my tewng is off.

I could feel the heat rise to my face as my legs come to a close, her hands resting at my thighs and prying me open, a whine beating its way past my lips.

“Don’t hide yourself, you are beautiful, paysyul.” She mutters as she leans down toward my face, her head making contact with my mask, one hand coming up and tapping on it gently, letting me know to hold my breath, and once I inhale the mask comes off and her lips are in mine as she kisses me, my hands coming up toward her cheeks as her tongue swipes my lips.

I nervously open my mouth to give her access and am met with a sweet flavor on her tongue, she must have been eating fruit before whisking me up from the water.

I can feel her hand trail up my thigh and gently stuck her finger inside, her kiss muffles my moan as she sticks the entire length of her finger into my wet pussy, my legs closing around her arm as her tongue dances around my mouth.

“You feel incredible mama’s,” Lo’ak mutters in a breathy voice, but my brows furrow in confusion, breaking my kiss from Tsireya to look toward him, noticing his tswin is connected to Tsireya’s, he must have done that while I was distracted. I take the opportunity to slide my mask back on and take a deep breath, chest heaving slightly at the long breath hold I’d done.

“Oh,” Tsireya mutters as her finger stops its movements, she has a certain expression on her face that causes me to look down between my thighs.

“Look at you,” Lo’ak coo’s, a smile spreading on his face, but my eyes trail back toward Tsireya’s teal hand, a bit of blood was staining her palm, but it’s source was coming from me.

From our human biology classes that Lo’ak often snuck into just to hang out with Spider, he knew exactly what this blood meant, as the one learning about woman’s anatomy, I knew what this meant too, but Tsireya was surprisingly calm.

“How sweet to think you’ve been waiting for us all this time,” He snaps me out of my thoughts enough for me to feel Tsireya had started to slowly move her finger again.

I could feel my face heating up again, but for two reasons, because of Lo’ak’s words and because of the pleasure Tsireya was starting to bring to me.

“I think she can take another,” She stated rather confidently as she attempts to bully a second finger in.

“Easy baby,” He stated as she finally manages to shove her second finger in, my body clenching down rather harshly at the sudden intrusion.

“Ohh,” I groan as she gently moves her fingers inward, it seems like forever before she reaches the hilt, but once she does, I can feel a heat coiling in my belly.

“How does that feel?” She asks as she leans over to kiss my jaw, her fangs starting to scratch me lightly, her kisses driving me crazy as she continues moving her fingers inside of me.

“Ahh, ‘Reya,” I whine, her mouth back on my neck, suckling my pulse point as her fingers start to speed up. I could feel myself spreading my legs wider to give her easier access.

I open the eyes I didn’t know I’d closed up until that point, watching as she shuffles her body closer toward mine, I could feel her breath fanning over my cunt and all I could do was squeeze in anticipation.

“Go ahead.” Lo’ak’s voice cuts through my thoughts once more and I look downward, capturing Tsireya’s eyes with mine just before she leans down, placing my clit in her mouth and giving a small suckle, with that my head is thrown back and my back arches, bringing my cunt closer to her.

“Fuck,” Lo’ak grunts.

Tsireya doesn’t stop her ministrations as her fingers start plowing through me, her mouth starting to work on overdrive and I can just feel her smirk on my pussy.

“Please-“ I whine as I begin to grind my hips against her face.

“Please what?” Lo’ak stated rather harshly.

“Please make me come,” I moan as my hands come out from underneath me, placing them on Tsireya’s braids as I attempt to bring her face closer toward my cunt, humping her face -regardless of my knees buckling at this point- in an attempt to coax my orgasm out

“Thats hot.” Lo’ak comments and I finally open my eyes to witness him palming himself through his tewng, the tent in his loincloth being a big distraction to me, feeling as her fingers change pace and move quicker.

“Fuck!” I gasp as the coil in my belly tightens further, the feeling of comfort being brought to me through Tsireya’s ministrations, my fingers tightening over her scalp and letting my pathetic moans loose for the two of them to hear.

“Thats it baby,” he encourages the both of us with his words while continuing to palm himself through his loincloth, his hand working faster, the size of him being visible through the fabric and my mouth watering at the sight of him.

“Go ahead and come, syulang.” Lo’ak mutters and I couldn’t help but listen as my body writhes against his mates fingers and mouth, feeling absolutely high as I rode the wave of my orgasm.

I felt on top of the world the moment I gave in and came around her fingers, my cunt squeezing them for all their worth, becoming a panting mess as I come down from my high.

I look over to see a satisfied Tsireya coming up from my cunt, juices soaking her face, her fingers finally coming out of me at that moment, a bit of blood still covering them. I turned my face toward Lo’ak to see the prominent boner in his tewng, mouth watering at the sight of it before asking.

“Do you need some help with that?”

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.

armand/daniel, e, 17.7k

tags: Post-Season/Series 02, References to Devil's Minion Era (Vampire Chronicles), the odyssey of recollection, Blood Drinking, New York City, Leather Culture, Public Sex, Getting Back Together, Enriching Armand with the technological marvels of the 21st century, Spoiled Only Child Daniel, Gardens & Gardening, Canon-Typical Freak Behavior

“Did we call each other boyfriend? Surely not. Sounds weird even saying out loud.” “You were my beloved,” Armand says. “My lover. My boy.” “Your human pet. Your mortal fool. I get it,” Daniel says, not neglecting to notice his use of the past tense. “You want to go see a movie?”

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Blanche (Yandere Oc)

tw: depiction of abuse, stalking, heavy gore, violence, captivity, torture, human excrement, like really gross stuff, lots of words 4.5k

"Oh, why, hello my darling dove." You approached the man with the kindest, deep blue eyes you have ever seen. He sets his notebook and pen down on the table nearby. He stood up from his garden chair and opened his arms wide as he smiled, his sweet, downturned eyes closing into crescents. The corner of his eyes and mouth wrinkled in genuine happiness upon seeing you.

You hugged him, allowing his gorgeous, tight curls to brush against your arms. You wonder how he could maintain such Rapunzel-esque hair that reaches the back of his knees, especially when it's deceptively short. You remember unraveling one of his curls, to find out that it's twice as long than it originally presented itself as. If it was straightened, it would be pooling around his feet like a massive flood.

"How are you, my sweet? Did you have a wonderful day?" He asked, his voice honeyed and at a higher pitch than how he usually talks to others. His long, natural nails gently raked through your hair, while you played with his pitch-black but streaked with the lightest of grey strands.

You told him that you were thirsty, and you asked if he had anything for you to drink.

"Of course, my beloved flower. Come, let me lead you to my kitchen." You removed yourself from him as he wrapped his fingers around your hand. The man picked his cane up that was resting on the side of his chair. He then hummed a happy tune to himself as he leisurely walked away from his resting spot in the garden, bringing you along with him.

You peered up at the tall, loving man. You always thought that he had a peculiar sense of fashion, especially in this modern day. He looks like someone straight out of the romantic era, around the 1800s. The man, who you know as Blanche, would never be seen without his dark brown waistcoat, a tailcoat of a similar color, white frilly cravat, and long beige trousers. Likewise, he brings his antique, wooden cane wherever he goes.

You don't think you have ever seen him wear anything else other than his polished leather shoes and black garden boots. You certainly never seen slippers around his cottage home.

"Here you go, my darling." He handed you a cup of fresh juice. "I just squeezed them this morning. I can only hope to have my oranges as sweet as you, but I believe it should at least taste decent." Blanche caressed the side of your face as you drank, kissing the top of your head.

Once you're done, you grin and thank him earnestly. He simply nuzzled his charming Greek nose against yours. "You're very welcome, my dear dove."

You like how calm he is, it's evident in the way he speaks; he speaks slowly and softly as if there wasn't a single rush in the world, perhaps sometimes it's frustrating that it takes him an eternity to finish a sentence, but living in a reality where the fast and the furious is greatly rewarded, Blanche is a nice escape for you. Especially when you're exhausted and anxious.

His movements too, remind you of a carefree snail. He takes his time doing anything ever. You watched him pour himself some juice for himself in the same cup, you would have done it in half the time he took to do so.

"My light, are you hungry?" He asked before taking a sip of juice. You said yes, you're a bit famished after making that long trek into the forest to find his home, you just came right after your classes too. "That's wonderful. I just made a blueberry pie today." He walked to the kitchen window, where you saw a delicious, golden brown pie slowly cooling. Blanche picked it up and set it down on the chipped, dining table.

"How was school, my dear?" Asked Blanche as he opened his drawers and cupboards agonizingly slowly to find the appropriate cutlery for you and him.

You reminded him that you're studying in university, He seemed to ignore that. So you continued, telling him that it was exhausting and boring, you wished that your lecturers would be a bit more entertaining in teaching the materials.

"That's quite a shame." He cut a slice and placed it on a ceramic saucer with painted floral patterns on it. Blanche gently sets it in front of you, putting a small dessert fork on the same plate.

You then went on to tell him the good news: the creep who has been trying to get into your pants for the past few days must have given up because you didn't see him around anymore.

"That's nice, dear." He smiled, gathering a couple of serviettes from a drawer nearby and setting it on the table.

You dug in as always, the man smiled at you, feeling his heart swell in glee as you enjoyed his baking.

He gave himself a slice too and sat in front of you. Then, you asked him about his day.

"Oh, the usual. Deary and dull before you come along and fill it with such vibrant colors. I'm so happy that you're visiting me today, I was lonely." He replied, cutting the slice into small pieces first.

The way you met Blanche was somewhat bizarre, but you're glad that you met him. he's the comfort that you need in this world. You would always go to him when things get tough, he will tell you that everything is going to be okay; and you would only believe him, no one else.

You met him online, there was this website where people from all walks of life visit to make friends. You initially used it to date or do one-night stands to try and fill the void in your life, but you end up finding sweet, old Blanche. You find it humorous and sad that his own profile described him as a very lonely and eccentric middle-aged man, who is looking for someone to love. He didn't specify what type of love he is seeking, but he expressed his displeasure and sadness towards previous online 'friends' of his taking advantage of his kindness and desperation to have a companion- stealing his money, robbing his house and even beating him up numerous times because he was perceived as this weak, old man.

You felt your heartstrings being tugged at as you read the words, he was really begging whoever was making those numerous fake accounts to stop harassing him. Apparently, some younger folks thought it was funny to cyber bully him, reveal private information online, send him death threats, and send him disgusting, gut-wrenching hate messages just because he wasn't as well versed in the internet as the others.

Luckily, one day, they just stopped. Ceasing all torment towards the kind man. No one knew what happened, but from that day on, no one tried to talk to him anymore. It's all radio silence.

Until you came along and decided to give it a try. It takes him a good amount of time to type a string of text, but it's always meaningful, poetic, and beautiful. He sends paragraphs as if he's writing a letter to be sent through a carrier pigeon.

The first time you met Blanche, you were filled to the brim with anxiety. Shaking and gnawing on your fingers as you take the bus to the cafe you and him were supposed to meet. This isn't someone who's the same age as you, he is much older and you feel... Weird. There isn't anything wrong with seeking friendships with him because you're an adult, you know what you're doing.

But it's so... Different. You don't know what to expect.

You definitely didn't expect the instant warmth that brought your panic and anxiousness to an all time low. Something about his vibes, his looks and the way he carried himself was so soothing. He didn't have to say anything, all he did was look your way and gave you such a genial wave along with a toothy smile.

The afternoon went swimmingly, it wasn't awkward at all; it was as if you were talking with a close, guardian-like family member. You were comfortable, maybe a bit too comfortable because you realized you overshared after you went back home. You really didn't have to tell him about your stomach problems you're suffering at the moment in such detail.

The next time you met up with Blanche, he gave you a wooden box filled with teabags of his homegrown herbs. He claimed it will help cure your condition as long as you drink it.

You didn't really believe him, thinking he's just some old fart who practices pseudoscience and most likely doesn't agree with the use of vaccines. But you decided to brew some of his tea anyways, since he seems so excited to share you a part of his world.

To your surprise and embarrassment, it got rid of the symptoms. You're no longer bloated on most days and you feel great.

Now, you would just describe to him whatever is plaguing you; it could be insomnia, a common cold, or even your crippling mental health crises. Blanche would always have something growing on his land that would cure it.

That is where you learned that he lives in a cottage, in the middle of a forest. His garden is extensive, planting all sorts of trees, shrubs, shoots and flowers. He has the greenest thumb you have ever seen. You once gave him a pot of succulents which you thought were dead, due to your failure to water it at all. Blanche looked positively horrified at the condition of the poor plant in the beginning, but he assured you that it's okay, he can help it.

You were confused, you gave it to him because you thought he would use the clay pot. But instead, he returned it to you with its planty resident healthy and plump. You knew it was the same one because it looked exactly like how you first bought it.

Blanche gave you a handwritten card of instructions on how to take care of your new, leafy friend. You tried your best to follow it, but ultimately, you gave it back to him. It now rests on the windowsill beside his bed.

Your friendship with him grew as months went by. He would have you in his cottage, you would have him in your shared dorm. To which, he prefers not to step foot into the biohazardous student kitchen. That's why, you're usually visiting him, instead the other way round.

Blanche is lovely to have in your life. Whenever you visit him, you will always leave with a week's worth of groceries; mostly vegetables and fruits that happily grew on his plot of soil. But also, there would be containers upon containers of ready-to-eat meals he cooked prior to your visit.

You became healthier and your grades went up, thanks to the convenience of his delicious cooking. Although they're mostly vegetarian since he's almost solely using produce from his back yard, it's still so tasty even the average carnivore would scarf it down without hesitance.

You're also convinced whatever he adds into his meals are making you smarter. You get to focus on your classes better and you could retain much more information than before. He would excitedly tell you all about the strange and whimsical spices he added into your dish, describing what chemical compounds might be the culprit in helping you form more brain cells.

Aside from planting, he would crochet, knit or sew. And he would churn out items fast. It was so jarring to see his hands move like the insides of a racecar motor when you could fit five eye blinks in one of his own. He was the person who crocheted your laptop bag, your favourite winter and summer top, knitted your beanie, your comfiest pair of socks and your snow gloves.

Whenever there is a rip or tear in your clothes, even if the shoulder straps of your bag fell off, you could simply bring it over to his cottage and he would return it good as new. Being friends with Blanche allowed you to save up a substantial amount of money, you would then use it to buy him a new smartphone. It may not be the most luxurious, but it's definitely worlds away from the yellowed brick phone with a numerical pad he owns.

You think it is time for him to transition into the modern world, and you care for him enough to bust a hole in your already very empty university student wallet to help him. The next thing on your agenda was to buy him a new computer or laptop because he is using one that is ridiculously thick and cuboid; with a terrible screen resolution. It took him half an hour just to access the internet.

He was over the moon upon gifting it to him. To the point of tears, he was indescribably happy. You were worried as to why he was on his knees, hugging you close to him as he sobbed loudly on your shoulder. Initially, you thought you triggered something traumatic or did something to offend him, but Blanche assured you that wasn't the case.

Only after he calmed himself down, prepared a teapot of his homemade tea blend for the two of you, did he explain:

You are his one true friend, who consistently showed up for Blanche, cared for him, showed interest in his character, never hit him, and did not try to swindle money off him. It was surprising and melancholic, to say the least, that this was the only gift he ever received out of love and kindness; without the other party wanting anything in return. It was so nice for once to have someone around who isn't only after his wealth or free labor.

You didn't get how the world could be so cruel to such a kind spirit. It made you angry how he was badly mistreated in the past, but he simply smiled and told you that everyone must move on. Blanche has you, and that is all that matters to him.

You still weren't satisfied. You asked if he had gone to the police, told their parents, told their workplace- anything! They can't just get away without any repercussions, it makes your blood boil and heartache for your friend.

Blanche merely smiled, albeit ominously. He told you not to fret over them, as they eventually "Got what they deserved." He didn't elaborate on that further, you simply assumed that he said what he said due to his overly forgiving nature and not wanting you to worry about his torment.

It wasn't easy teaching him how to use the smartphone, though. Every little thing, he would call you using his rotary phone on how to use it; "Hello, darling. This is Blanche speaking, Could you please come over sometime this afternoon to guide me through the steps on how to surf the interweb on this lovely gadget you gifted me? I seem to have forgotten how to do so."

You think he's just using that as an excuse to hang out with you. Because there is no way he would forget how to tap on a couple of things after the 16th time.

You did ask him about his family. Blanche would tilt his head to the side and give you a saddened smile. Before telling you about how his parents weren't good people, he ran away from home and didn't know the fate of his other siblings. Because of his background and peculiar personality, he found it hard to create lasting bonds as they would always wound up abandoning him or abusing him. He said that he must be excreting some sort of pheromone that attracts people like these.

But he held no ill will towards them, as they "got what they deserved". You brushed that off again as Blanche being too nice to the cruel world.

You're concerned, though. It really seems like you're his only ally. He is definitely clingier now that the friendship has deepened. You're worried that you're going to have to say "no" to some of his requests to have your presence here as he grows more and more unbearable, it's definitely going to break his heart.

"My rose?"

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon feeling Blanche's fingers gently pushing your hair back. You're now back to the present, where you and he are comfortable with light skin-ship, you also liked how he would call you all these pet names. It made you feel so fluttery inside.

"Are you alright, dear? You seem to be distracted with something." He cupped your cheeks and inspected your face further. His eyebrows were knitted in concern.

You said that you were fine, just thinking about your daily obligations and how you should get going soon.

He frowned. "Must you go?" He whispered. "I'm so lonely out here. Please stay for a while longer."

You can't because you have a work shift starting soon. Plus, you have to complete that assignment that you're putting off because you were too busy accompanying Blanche in his isolated Cottage with the world's worst internet connection.

He sighed, looking miserable. "Please wait for a few minutes, I have something for you." Blanche stood up and made his way upstairs.

You watch him ascend the stairs with one hand on the handrails, and the other on his cane. You think that this might be an extremely dangerous lifestyle for a man like him to live, what if he trips and falls? He wouldn't be able to call for help, especially when phone reception out here is atrocious.

You continued eating your slice of blueberry pie, even taking another slice from the dish for yourself. You knew Blanche wouldn't mind, and you knew that he was going to make you bring the entire thing home anyway.

He came back down a few minutes later, holding a brown envelope. Immediately, you went on to reject it. You already knew what was in there and you didn't feel comfortable accepting it.

"Please, I insist, my love." He tried slipping it into your bag, but you wrestled it away from your belongings. You said that you have no use for it, you can make your own money.

For the past few weeks, he has been giving you regular allowances. It isn't anything to scoff at either, it's always one grand per envelope. Now you can see why there were so many people who tried to siphon as much funds out of Blanche as possible.

"I have no doubt in my heart that you are capable, but I... I'd like to buy your time, please." He clasped his hands around yours, bringing your fingers to his soft lips. "I want to spend more time with you, I want you to stay longer. Will you do that for me, my love?"

You paused, it was hard to say no to those big, pleading eyes of his. But you have to, even if you don't necessarily have to work with Blanche's financial help, you still need to put in effort in your studies to not fail.

So with a heavy chest, you said no. You promised that you would visit him again very soon, you just need to get your assignments out of the way and you will be golden.

His shoulders sagged in defeat as he softly whimpered under his breath.

"Alright." He muttered, before reviving the loving smile on his lips.

He opened his arms, to which you gladly threw yourself in. He laughed, picking you up and pressing kisses against your cheek. Blanche tenderly twirled you around, letting your legs dangle in the air as you too giggled. You rubbed your face against his frilly cravat, also enjoying the feeling of his lips on the crown of your head.

__

Blanche is now alone in his garden. His lips were pressed in a thin straight line. You left a few minutes ago with his personal cart filled with his fresh produce for the week. And also the remaining blueberry pie that is stashed away in a container for convenience. He hopes that the eggs he gave you are enough to last until your next visit, his chickens are producing a bit less than usual.

He picked up his pen and notebook he left on the garden table earlier. Blanche then tucked the cane under his arm before marching away without wasting any time. Without you witnessing, Blanche actually moves scarily quick, his graceful agility allows him to traverse the span of his garden speedily without damaging any of his crops.

Blanche walked deeper and deeper into the foilage until the sunlight could barely be seen through the dense vegetation.

Eventually, he reached a dilapidated wooden shed. Blanche stood right in front of the door with a heavy lock and took out his golden stopwatch from his breast pocket. The male noted the time before writing it down in his notebook.

He kept them away, Blanche then fished out a key, along with a hairband from another pocket in his trousers. His lower eyelid twitched as he tied his voluptuous hair into a large, very messy bun. But at least it's not going to interfere too much with what he's about to do.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open using his shoulder, it was hard to move it as the hinges had rusted to a considerable degree. Blanche dusted his sleeve off before taking out his notebook again, noting that he had to replace its parts soon.

Finally, he kept everything back in his pockets. Blanche tightened his fists in anger as pathetic muffled screaming and wailing reached his ears.

"Oh, be quiet, will you?" He snarked, a complete 180° from the Blanche that you're used to. Luckily, you're not here to see it.

He turned around to see your harasser. Completely naked and covered in bloody, infected lacerations. His face and body were blue from bruises and other injuries. He was gagged using his own clothes that were cut up by Blanche. His victim couldn't escape if he wanted to, as he was tightly bound by metal chains that were cutting circulation around his wrists and ankles.

There was rot, maggots, blood, and excretory products all around him as the bodies of Blanche's ex-friends decomposed around the creep. He was squirming in his own puddle of urine and vomit, as Blanche has kept him there since yesterday, right after you went home from your last class.

He is used to the smell of death. He worked with natural fertilizers, after all.

Blanche took long strides towards his trembling form, which only shook even more the closer he got.

He lets out a shout when Blanche strikes him using the end of his cane, the force is so strong that it instantly breaks the skin on his head, making him bleed profusely.

Blanche's eyelids twitched even more, he suddenly discarded his cane before pulling out two brass knuckles from his left pant pocket. He hastily puts them on before throwing powerful punches against his current, human punching bag.

Cracks, screams, and crunches resonated throughout the small space as Blanche let out all his frustrations on him. All his hatred towards the world, his anguish, and misery of not being around you, all of it- your harasser has to bear. Just because he chose the wrong person to mess with.

Blood, spit, and other fluids splattered on his once pristine clothing, dying his cravat red.

"Fucking disgrace." He mumbled as he managed to beat the man to a pulp, striking him hard and long enough to expose the broken bones to the stagnant air. Blanche continued scraping the flesh off his bone using the brass, there is an easier way to extract his bones, but he would very much rather use this method to relieve him of his rage. And, this delivers the maximum amount of pain and fear into your offender, a justified punishment for him, for disturbing Blanche's precious flower's peace.

Sweat beads down Blanche's forehead as he went on whaling on the unconscious, deformed mass that was starting to lose heat. Ichor pooled around his shoes, mixing with the other foul fluids around him.

Once he has managed to liquefy his flesh from his repeated, rapid pummeling, Blanche dug his bare fingers into the gory heap to extract the bones, gathering them in his arms and not caring that he has dirtied himself greatly.

He grunted as he ripped the bones from its weakened ligaments, spraying scarlet all over the already viscera-covered walls.

Blanche panted as he stood up straight, one arm holding his yield, the other hand taking out his once clean pocketwatch, now he's soiling it with bloodied fingerprints.

Five hours. Five whole hours of brutalization to pacify Blanche from his sorrow of watching you cut your visit short, due to some silly little assignments. He shook his head, he could have used all that time doing something else, but he needed to take care of this bastard anyway.

Now that he's not as upset, he took his time documenting whatever he did in his notebook which is equally covered in biohazardous grime.

He then turned around, and picked up his cane, not bothering to face the mutilated, unrecognizable mass of meat behind him one last time. Blanche was already thinking about what to do next as he locked the shed up, the previous bloodied fingerprints on the pad were washed away by the rain a few days prior.

He lets his mind wander to you, thinking about what you're doing right now. Blanche knows there is zero chance of you calling or contacting him through the phone because he knows that you're now at this stupid house party instead of working on your assignment like you told him.

Blanche isn't as tech-illiterate as you think. He is also not that gullible, he knows more than you believe or could ever imagine.

He wishes that you would be a bit more truthful towards him. But as of now, he's content with the amount and quality of bones he managed to harvest.

He made the long walk back to his cottage in the dark, his eyes already adapted to the darkness from decades of 'gardening' at night.

Blanche was mentally calculating the amount of time and heat needed to dehydrate the bones, to make them into bonemeal for his chickens. He suspected that they weren't producing as many eggs as usual because their calcium count was low, so the shell wouldn't be developing properly.

But thoughts of you kept interrupting his head. Blanche would smile, looking forward to your next visit. He would definitely have enough eggs for you by then.

[pascalispretty]

Leading Blindly

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1966

Warnings: Reader is a sex worker, loss of virginity, Mando has a huge dick, woman on top, reader has a size kink, blindfolds.

Summary: A young Mandalorian seeks relief for the first time at a Canto Bight brothel.

A/N: My entry for Day Two of @absurdthirst's Kinktober - the prompt was 'Loss of Virginity'. I'm picturing an early 20s Mando here, but imagine what you like! My thanks as always to my beloved @misscharlielulu. (ao3).

The blindfold hadn’t been the strangest request you’ve ever received. The client had requested you specifically according to Lenera, the madam, as she helped knot the fabric tightly over your eyes. A Mandalorian she had whispered, almost in awe. You had waited in your room for the client, the heavy footfall signalling his arrival long before he spoke.

From sound alone you couldn’t gauge much; the heavy thumps of his armour as he set them down, the voice that sounded young even with the modulation provided by the helmet, the sharp inhale of breath when you pulled your silky slip up over your head to let him look at you.

His touch, when it came, was gentle but faltering. A virgin, you suspected. Everything spoke of newness and uncertainty, from the difficulty he had in articulating what he wanted to the hesitancy in the hand he rested on your waist.

Eventually he had agreed to lie back on your bed, his head propped up on the stack of plush pillows while you straddled his lap.

It’s how you find yourself in the Mandalorian’s lap, one hand resting on his abdomen as you slowly grind down on him.

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you whisper softly as you unfasten his pants. “I’ll take good care of you.” His breath escapes him in a hiss as your fingers slide beneath his waistband and wrap carefully around his cock. Even without your sight, there’s no mistaking it; he’s huge. You can barely wrap your fingers around the width of him, and the length is just as impressive.

In your years of working in the finest Canto Bight establishments, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen his equal on a human, much less such a shy one.

“Oh,” you whisper, trailing your fingertips down the length of him to better gauge just how big he is. “You’re so big.” For most men, it would have been nothing more than an ego stroke; for the Mandalorian, it’s just the truth. And unlike most men, who would have received such a comment with delight, the Mandalorian beneath you squirms.

“I- I didn’t know. Is it- Will it be a problem? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Instead of proud or aroused, he sounds embarrassed.

“Oh, you sweet boy,” you murmur, and he squirms again beneath you. “I can show you how to make it easier?” He whines when you make your offer, his gloved hands gripping harder at your hips.

“Yes, p-please,” he manages. It’s such a pity he won’t take the helmet off; you want to kiss his forehead and tell him what a sweetheart he is.

“You may need to take one of your gloves off then, Mando. Whichever hand is your dominant one.” Your fingers are still wrapped around his cock, stroking lightly. The thick weight of it in your hands practically making you drool. Certainly you can feel yourself getting wetter, slick pooling between your legs and making your thighs feel sticky.

His hands leave your waist, and you hear him slide one of the soft leather gloves off and drop it onto the bed beside him. With his glove off, he touches your waist again with new hesitance. You wonder how often he does this; has the chance to touch another person, with no barriers between you. It’s such an unexpected feeling of intimacy from a mere brush of the fingers, and your cheeks grow warm.

“You- you’re so soft.” He says, and the marvel in his voice is so endearing.

“Thank you, sweet boy.” With reluctance, you let go of his cock in favour of dragging your fingertips up the insides of your own thighs, gathering the slick smeared down your skin. You hold your fingertips up for his inspection, turning them to try and show the wetness glistening in the low light.

“The more aroused a woman is, the wetter and more relaxed she is. It’ll make it more comfortable, especially with what you’re hiding.” You tease gently, leaning back a little on his lap to try and give him a better view between your legs. With your own fingertips you part your folds, putting yourself on display for him.

“You see this, sweet boy?” You ask, tracing lightly over your clit and managing to make yourself shiver. “You want to make sure this gets plenty of attention. And if you have time, you should use your fingers inside too; it helps to open the muscles up.” He sucks in another breath, and you wish so badly you could rip the blindfold off and look at him, helmeted or no.

“Would you show me?” He asks eventually.

“Oh Mando, you’re so polite,” you say lightly, drawing a light circle around your clit. “You’ll spoil me for all my other clients.”

As far as you can tell, he watches intently as you play with your clit, showing him how to start slowly and softly, the signs a woman might make if she’s enjoying herself. The closer you get to coming, the more you feel him starting to squirm beneath you, and for one moment you wonder if you should stop, lest he finish too soon, before even getting inside of you.

“Keep going. Please, please don’t stop,” Mando whines at you – he must have noticed your hand starting to slow. “I want to watch, please-” The soft sincerity in his voice is what sends you over the edge, your free hand steadying yourself on his abdomen as you come. His hands clutch tighter at your hips, so hard that you hope he leaves you a mark to remember this encounter by.

When you get your breath back, he dips his ungloved hand lower.

“Can I?” He asks, and you nod enthusiastically before he can even clarify what it is that he wants. You moan loudly when he dips his fingers just barely into your cunt, a low groan rumbling through him as he feels just how wet you are.

“Oh, that’s it, sweet boy,” you murmur as he carefully slides one of his fingers into you. It presses deeply inside you, so much farther than your own can reach. That familiar heat starts to build again in your core, flames licking your insides as his finger brushes past an electrifying spot within you. You start to rock your hips, fucking yourself on his finger. He soon responds in kind, matching your pace as his gloved hand clings to your hip.

“Another, another,” you beg breathily after a moment. His fingers are thick, but you know his cock is so much thicker; you want to be as prepared as you can be. You whine as he slides the second finger in, your muscles easily flexing to accommodate him. Still riding his fingers, you bring your palm up to your mouth and spit, before wrapping your hand around his cock again.

He groans at your touch, his cock throbbing in your hand, and you can’t take it any longer.

“Mando, sweet boy,” you pant, his fingers still working inside you. “Are you ready?” No words escape him, just another low groan as he slides his fingers out of you. He’s breathing raggedly, even through the modulator of the helmet, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock. “I need you to tell me, sweet boy.”

“Ye-yes,” he manages. You notch the head of his cock against your opening, your muscles straining to accommodate the blunt, weeping tip. Slowly you ease yourself down onto his cock with tiny flicks of your hips, impaling yourself gradually. Beneath you, Mando is doing his best to hold still, to resist squirming for fear of hurting you.

“That’s it, sweet boy.” Your time with him so far tells you he enjoys being praised. “You’re making me feel so full.” With the first few inches of him buried inside you, you get braver with your movements, taking more of him with every downstroke.

By the time he bottoms out inside of you, you’re so full you can barely breathe. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this full, not even when that pretty Twi’lek socialite had paid you to let her fuck you with her fist. You rest your hands on the planes of Mando’s chest, your fingertips flexing as you try to adjust.

Your client isn’t much better off than you are. His breathing filters raspily through his helmet, his hands clinging to your hips as he tries to ground himself. When he gives a tentative thrust upwards, you moan loudly, the sound completely unfeigned.

Between the two of you, you set a relatively slow pace. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s made that much clear, and you expect he also doesn’t want to end things too quickly. His first attempts to meet your movements are erratic, but he learns to follow your rhythm, rocking up into you as you ride him. His gloved hand remains anchored to your hip, his bare hand begins to roam over your body, cupping one of your tits and squeezing carefully.

Mando braces his feet on the mattress behind you, allowing him to push somehow deeper inside of you with his thrusts. You tip your head back and moan, trying to recall when you had last experienced this much genuine pleasure with one of your clients. It’s not long before you start riding him in earnest; you don’t expect him to last long no matter what you do, but you want to enjoy his masterpiece of a cock as much as you can.

It’s not long before his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing coming harder from beneath the helmet. You try not to be too disappointed, instead quickening the pace, fucking yourself harder onto his thick cock.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna come, where…?” He eventually manages between low groans, and you arch your back as pleasure races up your spine. You won’t come, not so quickly, but it still feels delicious to hear the Mandalorian sound so utterly wrecked beneath you.

“Wherever you like, sweet boy, wherever will make you feel good,” you practically purr at him, your fingertips digging a little harder into the fabric of his clothes. His movements become clumsier, his hand squeezing a little tighter at the flesh of your tit. It’s not long before he comes inside you with a sharp groan, an almost pained sound; you hadn’t expected him to last nearly this long.

Even before he’s finished riding out his climax, you feel his seed start to drip out of you, forced out by the sheer size of him. You give him a moment, letting him catch his breath. He doesn’t relax though; even as his cock is softening inside you, the bare hand on your tit disappears, only to come back to your hip once again gloved.

Carefully, he lifts you off him, ignoring the come dripping out of you as he sets you on the bed beside him. With the blindfold on, you’ve no way of gauging just how much of a mess you’ve made, or what kind of state his clothes might be in. You listen silently to his movements as he stands and begins to put his armour back on; the soft clips and buckles, the heavy tread of his boots as he steps back into them.

“Am I- do your clients normally say thank you?” He asks eventually. You’re so taken aback by the question that you can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a client quite so polite as you, Mando.” You’re in no hurry to move; you lounge back on your bed, legs spread obscenely. “Come back sometime; I’m dying to see how much of that cock of yours I could fit in my mouth.”

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