#i let him drink my blood and my sis was like

[crowscroll]

It's been three? four? days and bg3 has TAKEN OVER my life

[oceantornadoo]

protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your purse. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, lovie. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, purse strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still my wife.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of boxers. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

----

idk why im obsessed with the break-in and simon to the rescue trope but its fueling me lately

[lunajay33]

Mothers Daughter🕊️

Summary: Being the youngest of the winchesters had its ups and downs, but being the only girl made you miss out on a female figure, so the only thing you can do is ask the men around you about your mother

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lil sister, Sam Winchester x lil sister, John Winchester x daughter

•Masterlist•

You never got to meet you mother she died 6 months after you were born, well when you and Sam were born, he was older than you by 5 minutes and still treated you like his little sister but you couldn’t ask for 2 better bigger brothers, they were always there for you and made sure you were okay

Being the youngest and only girl in the family it got hard sometimes, when you were little it wasn’t as big of a deal, John treated you like his little girl and loved you dearly always reminding you that you looked like Mary, your brothers treating you like a princess and let you play with dolls, but as you got older and you got more woman problems it was hard to handle since there was no motherly figure to turn too

You woke up in the motel you were currently staying at with John, Sam and Dean, late at night you got up feeling groggy and your stomach aching so bad, nothing like you’ve ever felt before, you got to the bathroom looking in the mirror seeing how pale you had gotten, thinking maybe it was just something you ate you went to use the washroom but when you pulled down your pants all you see is blood and you panic

You pull your pants back up dropping to the ground when another wave of pain hits your lower stomach

“DADDY!” You scream out scared you might be serious sick

He runs in frantic looking around for danger, probably thinking something supernatural was out to get you, he kneeled infront of you brushing your hair back

“Baby what’s wrong?”

“Somethings wrong, I’m bleeding a lot and….and it hurts so bad” you say breathing heavy just wishing for him to take you pain away

“Oh princess, it’s your period every woman goes through it, I’ll run out and get you some pads and pain killers, drink some water I’ll be right back”

When he left Sam and Dean came and sat with you on the bathroom floor, doing everything they could to comfort you, but you were still confused on what was happening

That happened when you were 14 and after John explained to you what a period was you felt so different from your brothers, every month you had to go through pain while they carried on with hunting, having to go through bouts of random emotions was irritating but what was worse was having your body change and not knowing what to do

“Damn sis your legs are just about as hairy as mine” Dean laughed as we were all sat around in another motel, you felt so embarrassed covering your legs under the blankets

“Dean enough” John said as he saw your bottom lip tremble

“Daddy I don’t understand why do I have to change like this my legs are hairy and my boobs are getting bigger and I don’t feel comfortable”

“Come on princess I’ll take you shopping”

He took you to a drug store find a training bra that fit comfortably and some razors, the drive home was a little quiet

“I’m sorry daddy, I don’t mean to inconvenience you I know you have a lot on your plate right now with this werewolf case”

“It’s not your fault, and you’re not an inconvenience, just wish your mother was here to help guide you on this”

Your mother was a sore topic for the family which is all the more reason you wish you knew her, they barely talk about her

You got back to the motel room and Sam was already asleep but Dean was up watching tv still, John got ready for bed while you sat at the little table working on some homework Dean coming to sit with you, he was 19 so he didn’t have to do any schooling anymore

“Dean can I ask you something?” You sighed putting your pencil down

“Sure kid, what’s got your little head worrying?”

“Do you….i mean I never knew her but…..do you like mom would have liked me?”

He looked surprised not expecting that question, you saw John come out of the washroom seeing Dean expression and your nervous state

“What’s going on?”

“She…..she asked if mom would have liked her”

You were scared that he was going to yell at you, but you were just so desperate to have a mom or even a older strong woman figure to look up to

“Daddy I’m sorry I just…..I feel so different and you always say I remind you of mom, I just miss someone I never knew and it hurts”

“I’m not made princess, I’m sorry you and the boys don’t have your mother but I’m trying my best, and your mother would have loved you, I remember when she found out she was having twins she was so excited and when you were born and we saw you were a little girl she always said she felt this connection with you, how she’d cradle you and you’d immediately relax against her, she had so much planned for you Angel, she told me to wait till your 16th birthday to give you this but it’s close enough” he got up rummaging through his bag pulling out a little box

You opened it to see a silver necklace with a protection charm, just like the one John had tattooed

“I love it, thank you, I hope where ever she is she’s proud of me”

“Hey kid, we’re all proud of you” Dean smiled helping you put the necklace on

“She couldn’t have left me with better protectors, I love all three of you”

“Love you too princess, forever”

You were 22 now and on a run with all three Winchester boys, you had just finished getting the colt back from some vampires and trying to make a game plan so that John would accept you help, Sammy was driving and you and Dean were in the back

“Daddy please just take a break for a second, let us help I…….i miss you” bright lights burned you eyes before everything crashed and everything went black

You opened your eyes to see you were in a field full of flowers, not a worry in the world just the calming feeling of wind in your hair, bees buzzing by, no vampires or demons or anything just peace, then a woman in white appeared next to you

“You’re so beautiful” she smiled brushing your hair back

“Who are you?”

“I’m your mother dear, don’t tell me those boys haven’t showed you a picture of me” you shook your head but then you realized what she said, your mother was sitting next to you

“Mom…..it’s you!” You wrapped your arms around her feeling her warmth that you craved for

“But if it’s really you then…..am I dead?” You asked scared

“You got in a crash, the boys are waiting for you back there but if you want you can stay with me, we can be happy just mother and daughter, you can stay with me”

“But I haven’t lived yet, I don’t wanna leave Sammy or Dean and I can’t leave dad like that, I just got him back”

“It’s your choice baby, but either way I’m always with you” she said pointing at my necklace

A bright light above stung your eyes slowly coming into focus, seeing everyone surrounding you bed

“There she is, god sis you terrified us” Sam said wrapping his arms around you

“Princess why are you crying?” John asked worried your in pain

“I saw her” you whispered still in shock

“I think she still got drugs in her system” Dean laughed

“No I saw her, it was mom” everyone went still

“She said I could stay with her, wherever I was it was peaceful and free of evil but….i had to come back I just got you back dad and I can’t just leave my brothers you’ll tear eachother apart without me here” you smile

“I ain’t leaving anytime soon baby girl”

You went to sit up but pain shot through your body

“Good driving Sam, how is it you all look like you got in a little bar fight and I’m the one in this hospital bed…….any serious damage?”

“Doc said you got a concussion, broken rib and some nasty cuts on your face”

“But I’ll be okay?”

“We won’t let anything happen to you, never again”

Requests are open for supernatural or the walking dead:)🩶

[barefoothighlander]

Maaaaaaybe not too feral but there’s definitely something that makes my mind go brrrr about jealous/possessive Ghost - maybe she gets too much attention one time at the bar or there’s a comment made that really gets under his skin and sets him off. Then claiming or marking his territory as soon as he gets the opportunity. 🔥

okay so I got a few reqs for jealous ghost so I'm just gonna combine them here

warnings: mdni (18+), unprotected pinv, creampie, slight dub con, ass slap, rough sex, dirty talk, slight possessive!ghost

The team had arrived back on base in the early morning, spending the day doing paperwork and running around.

Soap was a flirt, you knew that, Ghost knew that, but it always got under his skin.

"Great job out there today lass, might need you to give me a few tips" And he winks at you, Ghost sees the interaction, from afar, staying out of it as his blood boils.

He hates that you let them flirt with you but he knows it's practically harmless, they'd never actually do anything to get with you, everyone too afraid of him.

Still, he can't help the way his stomach churns at the sight of you laughing at another man's jokes, your hand touching gently against his shoulder as you giggle with him.

He especially hates that it's Soap, the man knows he has no shot with you and flirts anyway, Ghost swears he does it just to get under his skin.

He's already in a bad mood when the team goes to the pub later, and you get up from your seat to order more drinks.

Usually, he loves how friendly you are, outgoing and warm, the complete opposite of him, he likes watching you interact with people, what he doesn't like is when people take advantage of your kind nature, pushing past the line of allowance.

He's awful with his words, keeping to his seat otherwise he'll end up getting the team kicked out of another pub, he just watches as you laugh at the stranger, nodding your head along with the conversation as you wait for your drinks.

He almost jumps from his seat when the man puts his hand on your arm as you try to walk away, grabbing your attention.

He watches you say something to him, the man's eyes shooting towards Ghost, sitting unimpressed in his chair, his mask-clad face doing its job of scaring the hell out of the stranger.

He's in a sour mood the rest of the night, uninterested in conversation, simply nodding along as the team talks.

When you decide to leave he's quick, his arm snaking around your waist and tugging you into his side as you walk home.

Once you're through the door he wastes no time, caging your frame against the wall as his stare pins you down.

"What are you doing?" You're slightly nervous, you can't tell what's going through his mind.

He doesn't say a word, simply tears his mask off and kisses you, it's all teeth and tongue as he pushes the muscle past your lips, devouring you

His hand slides down your body, moving under the hem of your pants to circle your clit, you're panting into his ear, your body flushes with his as he works your bud.

His fingers move lower, pushing into you as his thumb circles your clit

Within minutes he has your knees weak, you're panting beside him, inching towards your orgasm, he feels you clench down on him and removes his fingers, bringing them to his lips.

You're in a state of confusion, words escaping your lips as you fall down from your peak, clenching around nothing.

"Please Si"

"Think you can just flirt with other men in front of me?" He grits his teeth, his eyes dark

"What?"

"Don't act stupid, Johnny, the guy at the bar, am I not good enough for you?"

"Si, no, you're everything to me" Your hands cup his jaw but his face stays stoic, his hands grip your waist with a bruising strength, lifting your frame and carrying you to the bed.

He tears off your clothes, leaving his own on as his lips travel down your chest, his teeth biting lightly at your raised nipple.

He licks the skin down to your core, biting lightly at the skin of your thighs and you elicit a yelp, his breath fanning over your dripping core.

"Si please"

"You want my tongue? Want me to eat your pussy you little slut?"

You whimper at his words, a small grin growing on his lips as he attacks your clit, licking and sucking the bud, his hands holding your thighs down to keep you from moving.

His fingers make their way back to your core, pushing in and arching as they pump into you, it's all too much, too fast, your vision blurs with a blinding light as you approach your peak.

You let out a string of curses and moans as he works you closer, only to remove his touch at the feeling of you clenching.

You sob at the loss of contact, your muscles growing weak as he pulls from you.

"Not yet, you cum on my cock or not at all"

He leans over your form, biting a mark into the skin of your neck as you gasp, his hands roaming your chest, fingers pinching over your nipples.

He leans back and lines himself up, bottoming out with his first thrust as your limbs cling to him.

He sets a brutal pace, your mind barely functioning at the feeling of his large cock dragging against your soaked walls, his tip prodding at your cervix with every thrust.

He grabs your legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he pounds into you,

"Fuck, who's pussy is this?"

You turn to him, struggling to form words, his hand moves to rest against your throat, his fingers pressing against your pulse point.

"I said who does this pussy belong to"

"You, fuck, only you" You sob around him, your chest arching into him

"That's right, my pussy, gonna fucking fill you, make sure everyone knows who you belong to"

You moan at his words, his threats going straight to your core as you clench around him,

"Don't cum, not yet"

Your brain is fuzzy, your nerves feel like they're on fire as his thumb makes contact with your clit, rubbing circles into the bud as he drives his cock into you.

"You cum when I tell you to, got it?"

You nod, unable to form words

"Use your words" He tightens his grip on your throat

"I cum when you say so" You struggle to speak

He pulls out from you, his hands grabbing your waist to flip you over, his arm snaking around your stomach to hold you up at your cheek presses into the mattress.

Without warning he thrusts back in, forcing you to take every inch as his weight pushes you further into the bed.

"My fucking pussy, no one else" He emphasizes his words with a thrust, his hand making contact with your ass, slapping hard enough that it was sure to leave a red mark, "Fucking say it you little slut"

"Your pussy, fuck, only yours" You manage through broken moans, his fingers moving back to your clit and you squeeze down on him.

"Who else can fuck you like this?"

"No one"

"That's right, you belong to me" He grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

"Si please" Tears prick your eyes as you beg

"M'gonna fill you, fuck, make sure you feel me all the time"

You clench your pussy around him, the sensation becoming too much as your body seizes under his touch,

"Shit, not yet, don't you dare fucking cum"

You hold out for a few seconds loner, feeling his balls tighten as he buries himself in you.

"Cum for me, cum around my cock you little slut"

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, your entire body igniting as you writhe under him, squeezing him as he grunts, he cums with you, his spend flooding your pussy as you ride out your high, the warmth eliciting a sob from you.

"Fuck, that's it, baby, gonna take it all"

He makes sure you milk him of every drop, keeping his cock inside you till he's soft, letting you come down before pulling out.

His fingers push his spend back into you and you clench around them, your hips twitching from the stimulation as you fall against the mattress.

He presses kisses over your ass, moving his way up your spine before slotting himself beside you, his arms wrapping around your frame to tug you close.

You lay in silence for a few minutes, both of you catching your breath.

His chin sits against your shoulder, his lips pressing tender kisses to your neck,

"Mine" He repeats the word in between kisses, you sigh at his touch, turning your neck to face him, his eyes are softer now, full of love as you lean in to kiss him,

"All yours, always"

[ghuleh-witch]

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Mature Warnings: Dry humping, blood and blood-drinking Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia/Dracopia x GN Reader Characters: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia/Dracopia, GN Reader Additional Tags: Coming in pants, no beta Chapter Word Count: 1360 Summary: You allow Copia to bite you for the first time. Author's Note: I tried to keep this as gender-neutral as possible. Please let me know if I missed anything. AO3

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

You look up into his mismatched eyes surrounded by coal black paint. Even in the dim candle-lit room, you could see the tenderness his eyes held. It caused your heart to melt into a puddle inside your chest. Despite being a predator of the night, Copia was too sweet for his own good at times. 

“You won’t,” you responded. “I trust you. I know you won’t do anything to hurt me. I want to do this for you.” A few days have gone by since Copia last fed, and from what he told you, he only got his hands on some pig’s blood that was supposed to be used in a ritual Terzo was planning. “I’ll replace it before he knows it’s missing,” he told you. The Siblings trained to be donors for the vampires in the ministry were either scheduled off or busy with others, leaving Copia to either hunt for animal blood or find another willing donor. 

And you wanted to play the part of willing donor.

“Let me do this for you,” you said, cupping his cheek and bringing his gaze to yours. You could see how tired he was. The hunger was there just floating under the surface. He looked ready to snap at any given moment, but you weren’t afraid.

Copia sighed, and his hand came to rest over the one you held to his cheek. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to your palm. “Are you sure, amore ?” He asked.

You nod. “Very sure.”

He looked unconvinced, his frown lines deepening. “It will hurt at first. You will feel like your skin is on fire…”

“I trust you. And besides, I know that feeling goes away. You told me yourself.”

“Eh, si , I did. The pain fades and you’ll become calm and pleasure.” You could have sworn there was a tinge of pink in his cheeks when he said that. 

“Well, we’ll just have to see where that takes us,” you replied with a hint of a smirk. “So, let’s do this. How do you usually do this with the donors?”

“They sit next to me and give me their wrist,” Copia said. “But they are trained and used to the pain the bite brings. You are not. It would be best if you sat in my lap so I can hold onto you so you don’t fall over.” 

You straddle his lap as he sits on the sofa. “Like this?” You all but purr.

“Hmmm, si ,” Copia responded, his hands came to rest on your hips. “And then I’ll take your wrist and bite into the vein.” His hand came to lift one of your hands and his lips ghosted a kiss over your knuckles.

“Why not drink from my neck?” You suggested. You remembered him telling you how drinking from the neck was very intimate and intense. You craved to know what it felt like; to be held so close on the edge of life and death. 

“I—I shouldn’t,” Copia stammered, his eyes glued to your neck, just below your jaw where your pulse thudded. “Not for your first time.”

“I want to,” you responded quickly. “I want to feel it all.” 

Copia’s eyes slipped closed as a sigh escaped his lips. He was silent for a second, probably debating whether to give in to your request. You could see the battle he was warring with himself. After a moment his eyes opened and looked into yours. His hand came to cup your check as he nodded. “Alright, amore , but you must tell me if you feel lightheaded or sick. I cannot live with myself if I hurt you.”

“I promise,” you pledged. “Cross my heart, hope to die.”

“Well, we’re trying to avoid that last bit, eh?” Copia said, his lips coming to yours in a gentle kiss. “I’m going to kiss you for a bit and then I’ll bite.” 

You nodded. “Okay, I’m ready.”

His lips were on yours once more as his hands tightened around your waist, holding you close. The kiss started chaste and soft and quickly deepened. You could feel his cock harden beneath the laces of his pants. You gasped as his lips left yours and began to trail down your jaw, stopping to nip your earlobe, before continuing the path down your neck.

“Copia,” you moaned breathily as you felt his fangs graze the delicate skin over your jugular.

“Try to be still for this part. I don’t want to make it worse,” he murmured against your skin.

It felt like a pinch at first, and you wondered what the big deal was. It didn’t hurt. You spoke too soon though because then it felt like lava was flooding your veins as his fangs sank deeper into your neck. You let out a pained whimper as you tried to pull away, but his arms held you steadfastly in place. Something that sounded like a muffled apology came from Copia as the hot pain flooded your entire body. Tears sprang to your eyes and for a moment you really thought you might die.

Then just like Copia said, a calm fell over you and the pain began to ebb away. Endorphins surged through your bloodstream and you became lost in the feeling of peace and pleasure. “Oh,” you breathed as your fingers curled into the black fabric of his shirt. You could have sworn you felt Copia smile against your neck as warm rivulets of blood trickled down your skin.

“Feels nice now,” you said, rolling your hips against him without even realizing it.

That is until he groaned.

You were fully aware of the hard bulge beneath you; fully aware that he was just as aroused as you. Unable to help yourself, you rolled your hips again, grinding down against him causing you both to groan. Pleasure filled you as the friction of your jeans rubbed against you just right. “Fuck, Copia,” you moaned as his hands slipped from your hips, into the waistband of your pants, and to your ass. He squeezed your ass and pulled you impossibly closer. He wanted you to keep going and you had no intention of stopping. Your fingers grip his shirt so tight that your knuckles turn white as you grind against him, pushing yourself to your peak. You felt the coil in your lower abdomen grow tighter and tighter before suddenly it snapped. “Oh, fuck,” you panted. Dizziness caused your head to swim as you came, Copia's name fell from your lips in breathy moans. You felt his cock kick beneath the layers of clothes separating you and you smirked knowing he came as well.

His head fell back from your neck as he looked into your face with half-lidded eyes. His pupils were blown and crimson stained his lips and chin. With a quick swipe of his tongue, he cleaned his bloodied lips. His eyes fell closed as he savored the flavor.

“Amore,” he panted as his hands gripped you tight to him. “You are absolutely delicious. And I don’t mean just your blood.” His eyes opened and looked over your face, searching for any signs of distress or discomfort. “How do you feel? Did I take too much?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “A little dizzy, but that could be from how hard I came.” 

He frowned. “Maybe I did take too much.”

“Copia, I’m fine. It’s nothing a juice box and a cookie couldn’t fix,” you said, cupping his cheek as your thumb stroked over his paintless skin. “I promise I’m okay.”

That seemed to satisfy him. “Let’s get you cleaned up, eh? You got blood all down your neck and shoulder.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the spot he bit. The sensitivity of the wound made you wince. He pulled back and gave you an apologetic smile. “It’ll be a little uncomfortable for a day, but I have a balm we can put on it and it’ll heal right up.” He adjusted his grip and stood, carrying you to the bathroom. You knew after tonight, you’d always be his willing donor. 

[novaursa]

https://youtu.be/qillYsPzEs0?si=zWRzrkWUSQ-jRaTA

Can you do this just with the Targaryens and Lannister? Sister!reader Targaryen vs Cersie Lannister 🫣🙏🏼

Fire and Gold

- Summary: Rhaegar chooses you over her. And Ceresi never forgives you for it.

- Paring: sister!reader/Rhaegar Targaryen

- Note: In this AU Robert's Rebellion never happened. Rhaegar marries the reader, Ceresi still marries Robert after Lyanna dies in childbirth along with their child.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Next part: 2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: I hope this was what you had in mind, dear anon. The story is fresh from the oven.

You and Rhaegar have always known how to draw a crowd. The smallfolk line the roads, banners flapping in the breeze as cheers follow your every step. Rhaegar’s hand rests at the small of your back, his touch familiar and comforting. The two of you move through the throng with practiced grace, your smiles reflecting the adoration in the eyes of those gathered. The royal tour has been a triumphant journey so far, a celebration of unity and strength. Yet, beneath the surface, tensions simmer, particularly when it comes to the Lannisters.

It’s no surprise that Cersei Lannister would try to disrupt your journey. Tywin’s golden daughter has never hidden her disdain for you. You, the sister who Rhaegar chose over her, who embodies all that she desired but could never possess. Her presence is almost expected as you approach the encampment set up for the royal party. When you step inside the tent, the air is thick with unspoken tension. Rhaegar’s jaw tightens beside you, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere like a gathering storm.

Inside, Robert Baratheon looms, his massive form imposing even in stillness. Cersei stands at his side, her face twisted in fury, her eyes burning with a hatred you’ve known since you were both young girls at court. The very air seems to crackle between you. But your attention is drawn to your children and theirs, lined up in a tense, volatile standoff. Your eldest son, Aelor, stands tall, his eyes a mirror of Rhaegar’s determination. Blood stains the edge of his blade, and a long, angry gash mars Joffrey’s cheek. The boy’s face is contorted with pain and rage, his hand pressed against the wound.

“What in the name of the gods happened here?” Rhaegar’s voice is a sharp, commanding presence in the room. The knights and guards around you tense, sensing the gravity of the situation.

Robert spits, his voice dripping with contempt. “Your damn spawn attacked my son. Maimed him, Targaryen. That’s what happened.”

Aelor’s voice rings out, clear and unwavering. “He insulted us first. He insulted me, my brothers and sisters. He insulted you, Father, and you, Mother. When he drew his blade, I defended us.”

Joffrey, clutching his wounded cheek, shrieks in a high, grating voice. “Lies! He called me a Lannister bastard, and then he—”

You narrow your eyes, your gaze locking onto Cersei. It is an open secret in the court that her children bear none of the Baratheon traits, their golden hair and green eyes a reflection of the Lannister line. You’ve never spoken of it openly, but now, the accusation lingers in the air, unspoken but heavy. Cersei’s lips press into a thin line, her fury palpable.

“How dare you,” she hisses, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “Your vile little whelps—”

“Enough.” Rhaegar’s voice cuts through the tumult like a blade. “They are children, Cersei. This matter is settled.”

“Settled?” Cersei’s face flushes crimson. She turns to Robert, desperation sharpening her tone. “You will let this stand, my lord? He has harmed our son!”

Robert’s eyes flicker between Rhaegar, your children, and his wife. His face is flushed, whether from drink or anger, you cannot tell. For a moment, the entire tent holds its breath, waiting for the King’s decree.

But Rhaegar steps forward, his presence filling the space. “This is over. Children quarrel. It will not be escalated further.”

Cersei’s expression is a mask of fury, her body taut with indignation. Her eyes meet yours across the tent, and for a heartbeat, it’s as if the world narrows to just the two of you. There, in her gaze, you see the depth of her resentment, the wound to her pride that will never heal. You hold her stare, your silence as cutting as any word you could utter.

Cersei’s movements that soon follow are a blur, her hand snatching the dagger from Robert’s belt with a ferocity that sends a jolt of shock through the tent. She lunges at you, the blade aimed with a deadly precision that could only be born from hate. Instinct takes over, and you reach out, catching the weapon with your bare hand before it can pierce your heart.

The sharp steel bites deep into your palm, the pain immediate and excruciating. Blood wells up, spilling over your fingers and dripping onto the ground. Gasps echo through the tent, but no one dares to intervene. Robert’s roar reverberates around you, filled with anger and disbelief. “Cersei, what are you doing?!”

Your children’s cries pierce the air, frantic and terrified. Their small voices, shrill with fear, tear at your heart. The sight of their mother locked in a deadly struggle, blood pouring from your hand, is too much for them to bear. But you can’t look away from Cersei, can’t afford a single moment of distraction.

Her face is contorted with fury, a rage so intense it seems to consume her. “You ruined everything!” she screams, her voice raw. “You were supposed to be nothing more than a bargaining chip, another mad Targaryen girl! But instead, you took him—took the life that should have been mine! And now I’m shackled to this brute, trapped in a prison of my own making because of you!”

“You chose this,” you retort, your voice low, steady, despite the pain searing through your arm. “You and your father wanted too much. You thought you could seize the crown, twist the realm to your liking. But it was never yours to take.”

Her eyes flash, and with a snarl, she presses down, driving the blade further into your grip. The pain is blinding, but you refuse to let go, even as the dagger slices across your forearm in a brutal arc. You cry out, the sound sharp and involuntary, as the blade carves a deep, angry line from wrist to elbow. Warm blood streams down your arm, pooling at your feet.

The lords and ladies around you recoil, horrified, but none move to intervene. Fear holds them frozen in place, their eyes wide, their faces pale. The tent, filled with the sound of your children’s desperate sobs, seems to close in around you.

“Look at you,” Cersei hisses, her voice dripping with venom. “Bleeding for a throne you think you’re owed, just like your father. You’re no different from him. Mad, arrogant, and dangerous.”

“And you,” you bite back, your voice shaking with pain and fury, “are nothing but a bitter, power-hungry fool. You think you can cut me down? You think you can break me? I am not my father, and I will not be cowed by you.”

With a furious cry, she shoves the blade again, but you twist, forcing the weapon away. The dagger slips from her grasp, falling to the ground with a dull thud. You stumble back, clutching your bleeding arm, your breaths coming in ragged gasps. Pain throbs through every nerve, but you stand your ground, refusing to show weakness.

Rhaegar is at your side in an instant, his face ashen with worry. “Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice tight with concern, his hands gentle as he examines your injured arm. “Gods, what has she done to you?”

Robert steps forward, his face a mask of barely restrained fury. “Have you lost your senses, woman?” he growls, rounding on Cersei. “You draw a blade on the Princess of the Realm, on your king’s daughter? Are you so eager to invite Aerys’ wrath upon us all?”

Cersei glares back at him, her chest heaving, her hands shaking. “I don’t care!” she cries, her voice breaking. “All my life, I’ve been promised things that were taken away. I was promised Rhaegar, promised a crown, and now I’m nothing! Stuck here, with you, and this—this farce of a marriage. I’m trapped, and it’s all her fault!”

“Enough.” Robert’s voice is like a hammer striking stone, his eyes blazing with anger. “You’ve gone too far. This is beyond foolish, beyond dangerous. You think Aerys will turn a blind eye when he hears of this? His daughter bleeding at your hands?”

The name of your father seems to cut through her fury, a flicker of fear passing over her face. The threat is real—everyone knows the Mad King’s unpredictable wrath, his unquenchable thirst for vengeance. And you, his beloved daughter, lying wounded at her feet? The consequences could be catastrophic.

Rhaegar’s arms wrap around you, his touch gentle as he guides you away from the scene. “We need to get you to the maester,” he says softly, his voice tight with worry.

You nod, the pain throbbing with each heartbeat, but you keep your gaze on Cersei, refusing to look away. “Remember this, Cersei,” you say, your voice steady despite the agony. “You brought this on yourself. You chose your path, just as I chose mine. And you’ll find that you’ve made an enemy you can’t afford to have.”

With that, Rhaegar leads you out of the tent, your children trailing behind, their faces pale and tear-streaked. The lords and ladies part before you, their whispers already spreading like wildfire through the camp.

This skirmish is over, but the repercussions are only beginning.

[soap-ify]

GLADIOLUS | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

cw — angst, heavy suicidal tendencies, simon is NOT okay, he is depressed, mentions of death, hurt/no comfort but there's comfort too if that makes sense, bittersweet ending. [1.4k]

italic paragraphs mean flashback!

Cold and stale, the tea in Simon’s hand had long lost its heat. Almost like a cruel mockery of his own life, slowly losing the warmth that made him a human, reducing him to nothing but a breathing corpse.

A waste.

“I think my life’s too short for our love.”

His words caused you to look at him with confusion, trying to mask the inner turmoil brewing in your head at his sickeningly vague words.

“Sorry?” Though you had heard him well, you still wanted him to repeat it, to hear his voice once more.

Simon sighed and put the tea cup aside, having no energy left within him to drink anything, or even do anything. Trapped by the chains he couldn’t see, maybe just simply forged by his own brain. Brown irises soon looked over at you, still holding the same fondness as all the other times.

“I…” He paused momentarily, the thoughts in his head too loud yet distant. “My life. S’too short to love you properly in the way you deserve.”

“Don’t say that, Si. It’s more than enough.” You smiled and placed a gentle, comforting hand on his shoulder. Your words were like a sweet lullaby, calming him a bit. A bit.

So he stayed quiet and nodded, pretending that he was fine now, letting you stay in this false bubble he had made up for you both — tranquil and domestic. A paradox to his actual life.

Simon had been overly fascinated by knives lately. Even guns. Not by their beauty, but by the damage they could inflict. He’d let his gloved thumb caress the sharp edge of his knife sometimes, wondering what it’d be like to just stab it into his neck at this very moment.

Some poor unfortunate soldier would find him lying in his own blood, completely oblivious to how contentful he’d be.

Other times, Simon would fiddle with one of his guns, awful intrusive thoughts invading his head, making him feel overly sick. What if he just presses the barrel against his forehead, his finger on the trigger. One click and he’d be gone for good.

Was it selfish to want to die? Simon couldn’t even point out why he feels this way, or since when. All he knows is that nothing helps anymore. Well, you do, sometimes. Though he’d rather have you not see this damaged man rotting himself away more and more. He loves you too much for that.

Was it really selfish to want to die? All he wanted was to leave behind everything, leave behind the blood on his hands and the deaths he had seen, leave behind the memories and just fly away, finally free from the chains suffocating him.

He wanted to become the air, and you’d be his sunlight then — both of you dancing around each other everyday, together once again.

Maybe he could be better for you that way.

“Si.” You poked Simon’s arm, momentarily interrupting his quiet reading. Not that he minded though.

“Yeah?”

“I want to ask you something.” The mild shyness adorning your face sparked his curiousity, causing him to put his book aside and turn all of his attention onto you.

“Go on.” He urged softly.

“Um… Do you think we’d be together in every universe?” You felt silly for asking a question like that, blood rushing to your cheeks while your eyes looked away.

Simon paused for a second, brown eyes softening up as he studied your expression. Together in every universe? God, he’d do anything for that. Anything to love you in every life of his.

“Yeah.” He grumbled softly after a while, a poor attempt to appear nonchalant, though it failed as soon as you hugged his arm happily, making him chuckle under his breath.

“I’ll find you in every universe.”

Gladiolus. It’s a pretty flower, though Simon doesn’t like it just for its beauty. He feels oddly connected to it, uncomfortably exposed — even though he didn’t know why. Could flowers even speak to you?

Which is why he decided not to pick them, turning away to look at some other options. It was his little routine to bring you flowers whenever he could. Though this time, it was different.

A mission — a suicide mission. He was dreading the moment he would have to announce it to you, knowing that he couldn’t back out from it anymore. That was his job. All the dirty stuff.

It was hard, too hard. Watching you collapse in his arms while sobbing in pure devastation absolutely tore his heart, his arms holding you tightly while your fingers hardly dug into his arms, trying to touch him whole.

“M’sorry, love. It was just… supposed to happen one day.”

He couldn’t really recognise the words coming out of his mouth anymore, not really knowing what to say. He couldn’t give you false promises, especially when you both knew the severity of this situation.

Laying on the ground, drenched in blood, wasn’t that bad. He felt a sickening relief that made him feel nauseous yet happy at the same time. His hand was pressed against the severe bleeding wound on his stomach, fatal coughs leaving his mouth while he weakly stared at the sky, the sounds of shouts and gunshots too distant and blurry. It was as if he was slowly slipping away into a bubble that carried him away from this battleground and into somewhere calmer.

At least I didn’t kill myself with that damn gun, he thought to himself, smiling weakly. At least there wouldn’t be any nightmare anymore, no more sleepless nights and random outbursts. Peace. The beauty of death slowly engulfed him, wrapping her arms around him and slowly taking him away from this damned life.

You. He lost consciousness thinking about you — about how he left you back at home, about how he wasn’t strong enough to just retire from the military once you moved into his place.

I’m sorry, words he could desperately say, I’m sorry for not being strong for you.

Though right before dying, he made an oath to himself that if there was even a tiny chance of him living another life after this, he’d find you.

It was another one of those sunny days where you wished you had enough funds to fix the damn air conditioner. Your fingers silently put the last gladiolus into the bouquet one of the old ladies around the town had requested, the sweet scent of flowers soothing your senses.

The soft jingle of the door opening averted your gaze from the bouquet, your eyes falling onto your new customer walking into the flower shop. The sheer size of this mine caught you off guard, though you were quick to scold yourself for being so invested into someone’s height.

“Welcome. How can I help you?” You smiled politely and put the bouquet aside. Once those brown eyes of his met yours, both of you went dead silent for a split second, a strange spark igniting somewhere in between you.

He seemed… familiar. You were sure that you haven't seen him ever in your life, but something about him made you feel as if you knew him. Your fingers twitch involuntarily, feeling as if they had run through those dirty blonde hair off his.

He stared at you with, internally equally bewildered. His lips were slightly agape behind the black surgical mask he wore, for which he was glad for since you couldn’t see the soft shade of red slowly spreading on his cheeks. Why were you so familiar? He felt an odd pang in his chest, making him momentarily forget about why he was even here.

Oh yes, flowers.

“Can I have some roses?” He grumbled under his breath, quickly looking away as he reached for his wallet. “S’my mom’s birthday today.”

“That’s sweet. Happy birthday to her.” You looked away alongside him, a soft bashful smile creeping up on your lips as you began grabbing some newly fresh roses.

It was silent for a while between you both before he eventually broke the thickening silence, clearing his throat, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Thanks. Um… My name’s Simon, by the way.” God, he was awkward at this.

You stared at him for a second before letting out a soft giggle, introducing yourself. “Here are your flowers, Simon.”

He felt as if he had been searching for you his whole life.

[ancuninfiles]

Comfort Pt. 6

6k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Named Tav (Nym) - 18+

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Nym lets Astarion drink from her until he's full—perhaps too full—using multiple scrolls of Lesser Restoration. His erection grows unignorable in the process. How will he cope?

Tags: smut, fluff, angst, p in v sex, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, blood drinking, multiple vampire bites, blood loss, inappropriate use of the tadpole, PTSD, reference to past trauma, F! OC is autism-coded

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 for full tag list (Recommended)

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Notes: Sorry that it took me so long to release this chapter. It's literally been sitting 90% finished in my files for quite some time now lol. I've just been putting off finishing it because I didn't know how to end the chapter! Thanks for your patience <3. No beta-read for this chapter.

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐢

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•☾☼☽•:•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Too soon, the morning crept in, and Astarion wanted to hold Nym a while longer—an action that was beginning to feel both self-indulgent and generous.

Nym drooled on his chest in a trance so deep that it could be mistaken for sleep. She often tranced like that, and it was certainly something that he envied. Most nights since the nautiloid, he'd been plagued with unwelcome nightmarish visions of his old master.

Astarion toyed with Nym’s unruly waves, pinching a lock of hair between his fingers and twirling it nonchalantly. The sun had only just risen. The birds were singing, signalling for everyone to awake, but he knew that it'd still be some time before anyone woke, including Nym who always rested like a rock.

He stared at the roof of his tent, basking in the warmth of Nym's embrace. He wondered if she felt comfort in the coolness of his touch, or if it was something she merely tolerated, but he suspected the latter.

Her meltdown during their sexual encounter the night before had caught him off guard. It was something he wouldn't have expected from the free-spirited, promiscuous wood-elf. After guessing her circumstance, it felt wrong to label her as such.

He wondered what happened, but when her words melted into his ears, he felt like he knew—given his own experience.

— “Am I just a warm body to you?”

He had pondered this about himself with her before, just as he had for centuries during countless nights spent priming victims for Cazador. Everyone—all of them—would spout platitudes of love or lust, making everything to do with sex feel sullied over time. Yet now, whether it was his newfound free will or Nym herself, something felt different about their budding friendship—something unlike his experiences with all his other lovers.

With his hand slotted between his head and the pillow, he craned his neck to get a better look at her.

But. . .

What he saw was not Nym, but Sebastian—the man he'd brought to Cazador almost 200 years ago—with saturated sharpness and sordid eyes that seemed to burn holes into Astarion.

In a panic, Astarion leapt up, shoving Sebastian off of his chest. The corpse—bleeding profusely out of two small bite marks on his throat—stained the blankets there with blood.

As the scent of rot became overpowering, within mere seconds, Astarion watched in horror as the face morphed into hundreds—no, thousands of other nameless faces that he’d faintly recognized.

All before landing finally back on Nym. . .

He was almost relieved until he realized that the bite marks were still gushing, her face lacked its typical bright and lively complexion, and her eyes were missing their usual lustre.

—But—she couldn't be. . .

He hadn't—

As the blankets that surrounded him became wet with warm blood, he brought his hands into view, and they were covered in Nym’s sweet ichor.

Shamefully, he felt a pang of hunger as he watched her blood run down his forearm.

“If it isn't our prodigal son, how I've longed to find you once again,” a sinister and familiar voice spoke, snickering with satisfaction.

—Cazador.

Looking up, he saw his tormentor towering above him. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed that he was no longer at camp, but in the Szarr Estate.

“Though, don't entertain the idea that you'll forgo punishment only because you've brought home such a delectable treat.” His patented intonation assaulted Astarion's eardrums.

Glancing at Nym, he saw her lifeless body on the dirty floor of the kennels.

He felt frozen, but his undead heart raced unrelentingly.

“No,” Astarion growled, forcing eye contact with the black-haired man.

“Ungrateful, as always. Perhaps I will do the honours of punishing you myself instead of Goedy. How I've missed your sweet screams; the most beautiful of melodies.” With hands behind his back, Cazador stalked around Astarion, much like a predator.

Astarion’s stomach lurched with anguish, not knowing whether to grab Nym and run, or to shield her, because surely she wasn't dead.

Surely he could save her. . .

But, all at once, he heard a command, muffled by the ringing in his ears.

It wasn't until he felt his stomach and cheek being pressed into the cold-hard floor that he realized what had happened.

—A compulsion.

He was, once again, in the jaws of a monster—his master—who'd begun to straddle his backside and smash his head against the ground hard enough to crush bone.

Astarion groaned as he felt the familiar sting of his master’s cherished blade—so-called Rhapsody—carving into his back.

The pain was visceral and sharp as Cazador carved from shoulder to shoulder without lifting his blade.

Astarion stifled his screams, but tears fell unbidden as he panted off-beat.

Cazador only removed his blade to find purchase elsewhere. This time: the side of his ribcage, starting from below his right armpit. The new spot was too sensitive—too filled with nerves—and the pain was so terrible that it almost caused him to faint.

Finally, Astarion began to wail, “Stop! Pleas— master!” His entire body felt as if it were rejecting the honorific—as if he could cough it back up.

As the blade traced a line towards the flesh on the side of his waist, he couldn't help but expel a gut-wrenching scream so deep that it felt as if it came from the hells.

To this, Cazador chuckled maniacally, provoking more tears to fall from Astarion’s scarlet eyes as he sobbed. Choking on his own saliva, he retched onto the musty ground that was mere millimetres from his lips.

In this moment, Astarion’s only wish was his own death, because he knew now that his recent freedom had been solely evanescent.

“Astarion,” Cazador spoke darkly, snapping Astarion back to the present.

He leaned in, and screamed, “Astarion!”

“Astarion!” He heard, but this time, a woman's voice. Nym's, and she sounded afraid; he had to find her, to help her—

. . .

Blinking, the kennel was gone, along with its fetid scent.

He squeezed his eyes together, trying to make out the blurry shapes in front of him.

The shapes came into focus.

—Nym.

Her face was red, her cheeks were wet. Was she—crying?

“I've been trying to wake you—ah,” she winced. “I'm so glad you're awake now.”

—I'm awake. It was only a. . . a nightmare.

Just then, he felt something touch his cheek, causing him to flinch before he realized that it was just a finger—Nym’s finger.

“Oh—sorry. I just. . .” she grabbed her wrist and held her hand close to her chest as if it were a grubby little thing to be chastised. Frowning, her gaze fell.

Astarion brought his knuckle to his eye and swiped experimentally. Pulling it into view, he saw a clear droplet that dripped from his finger to his lips. He licked instinctively, tasting the salty flavour.

—A tear?

He recollected the events, pseudo and otherwise, that had occurred within the past few moments as he stared perplexedly at his hand.

—My tear?

—Better than her blood, he thought, shuddering at the memory of his nightmare.

Nym's gaze was fixed on him as her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but no words left her mouth.

With a huff, Astarion let his head fall back on the pillow and stared at the tent's roof. “Thank you.”

Nym, squeezing her wrist and gulping, shifted slightly as she sat on her heels. “Are you okay?” she asked, seriously.

“What did you see?” Astarion closed his eyes, almost sure as to what her answer might be and feeling discomfort at the thought.

Nym, releasing her wrist, repositioned herself to sit cross-legged, sighing with eyes closed. “Well. . . you were pleading—pleading for mercy, it seemed. You started grimacing and crying. . .”

She seemed to hesitate to speak her next words.

“Anything else?” Astarion asked.

“Your master—you pleaded for him to—” but she choked on her words as tears began to stream down her face, which screwed up in anguish.

—To stop.

Nym wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry, I know this isn't about me.”

—Odd, this doesn't feel like simple pity.

“I swear,” she started, her face contorting with anger as an undignified sob overtook her. “We’re going to kill that bastard. He can't have you.” Her fists balled up, knuckles turning white. “He can't,” she nearly whispered with a pleading intonation, squeezing her tear-filled eyes shut and hanging her head. She rocked back and forth, digging her knuckles into his blankets futilely.

Witnessing Nym’s raw display of emotion in response to his night terror—which bled from the seams of his unconscious and into his waking life—stirred a tumult of feelings within Astarion. Her anger and sorrow were palpable, and it confused him why she seemed so affected by his problems which had nothing to do with her.

He'd made an educated guess about the shadows in her past, particularly after her emotional breakdown the previous day when she had asked if he liked her. He knew Nym was sensitive but it seemed to come out of nowhere. At least until she asked if she was more than just a warm body to him, after that, things became clearer: she must’ve gone through something similar to him. Why else would she have broken down that way during such a physically intimate moment?

She was an enigma, appearing self-sufficient and remarkably knowledgeable about various topics, yet almost sheltered and unaware of the typical rhythms of everyday life.

He couldn't quite place the feeling, but it felt different than the simple pity he'd received thus far. She wasn’t just feeling sorry for him in a way that made him feel weak or patronized; she was standing with him, sharing his burden, even.

The strange and burgeoning camaraderie that he shared with this sweet little druid was proving more fruitful than he had expected, and only after a few days of fighting at her side.

He wondered if the others would come to care for his problems in time as well, and he hoped that they might even help bring an end to Cazador's reign. 

But even so, could they really stand a chance against Cazador? He could show up at camp any day, and Astarion wasn’t confident in their abilities. Consequently, they would—he would—have to stay vigilant until the moment his master ceased to exist. Until then, blind hope was all he had. That, and the tearful Nymsy who was currently watching over him at his bedside as if he were a sick child.

He reached for Nym’s wrist, which was feebly grinding into the blankets. At first, his fingers simply grazed her skin, snapping her out of her fit. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, their shared gaze conveyed more than any words could.

Nym dropped her gaze to weave their fingers together. She smiled, though her eyes looked pained, and squeezed his hand tightly before meeting his eyes once more. Difficult to ignore—an unusual presence fluttered in his ribcage.

As his eyes fixed on her trembling lips, he was overcome with the sudden urge to kiss her, though he didn’t know why, as the moment didn’t feel sexual like every other time he’d kissed her. It was as if his lips simply yearned to be connected with hers.

With his free hand, he pushed himself up and swiftly locked lips with Nym in a passionate and bruising kiss, unsure if he was rewarding her, or perhaps being capricious.

His entire relationship with her thus far has been a confusing stew of manipulation and lust. When she had asked if they were friends, the question initially perplexed him. 

—Do friends kiss? Do friends sleep with one another? Do friends hope for exclusivity in their relationship?

What they had wasn't mere friendship, but something adjacent, or perhaps more intense, though he'd never admit just how intense.

It seemed like Nym settled into their quickly-developing relationship as if it were second nature to her, Astarion on the other hand, had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that somehow, something would go wrong.

Why did he even care, though? It had only been naught but four days since they'd met on the cliffside; an interaction in which Astarion had threatened Nym's life at knifepoint.

No, there was no way that Nym cared for him deeply enough to want to participate in his plot of revenge, could she?

Nym sobbed, breaking the kiss. “I'm sorry,” she apologized, wiping her tears. “I hope that soon, you feel safe enough to talk about it. I think I have some things I'd like to talk about, too.” Nym took both his hands, gently caressing them with her thumbs.

He was utterly stun-locked, unable to form words—unable to think.

“Um—here.” Nym shifted, pulling her hair away to bare her neck. “I’m still game for our experiment if you are.”

Astarion decided to temporarily set aside his disbelief in favour of Nym’s offer, slipping his mask back on.

“You're too generous, my sweet little druid,” he professed, locking eyes with her. Her fiery gaze held not fearlessness, but bravery. 

She feared him, and it aroused him—not because of her fear, but because she was determined to overcome it and her trust in him, despite occasionally trembling under his touch.

Trembling the way she did now.

And, of course, it did wonders for his ego.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Hush—Relax, darling. I've got you,” he purred, stroking her hair back and ghosting his lips on her throat. Though, he wasn't entirely sure he did have her—if he could keep her alive. 

He wondered why Nym specifically settled on five scrolls, conveniently still placed off the side of the bedrolls. Knowing her, and the bookworm she was, she probably made up some clever calculations and wrote down her hypothesis somewhere.

He may not have trusted himself enough to maintain her heartbeat, but he trusted her enough to know that five scrolls would be sufficient, and it took everything in him to hold back his excitement.

Keeping his face nestled between her head and shoulder, he cradled her head with one hand and placed the other on her waist, gently rotating her to rest comfortably on the bedroll. He pointedly avoided looking at her face, knowing that seeing her grimace with trepidation would make him hesitate—he couldn't afford to squander this opportunity. 

He dovetailed his legs with hers, one of his knees landing between her thighs.

With a dichotomy of shame and eagerness in his mind, he bit down and began to drink hungrily, eliciting a small whimper from Nym. 

As the blood pooled in his mouth and slipped down his throat, he used all of his will to maintain peerless focus on her pulse. He could sense it with his entire being, in the way that he felt its throb on his tongue and the way her ichor gushed rhythmically out of her body and into his like a mycelium network. Not only that, but he could hear it, and feel it on the parts of his body that made contact with her’s. As a result, he could sense the strong, quick pitter-patters that always took place before he’d sink his fangs into her flesh, as well as the slow, weak drumming that it became when she’d had enough.

He could do this, he was confident.

He could sense that she was likely halfway to her limit, and their circumstance was beginning to feel erotic. He hadn’t discerned it earlier due to his inner turmoil, but the way Nym’s precious hand had started to massage his curls while her sun-like heat engulfed him was causing his member to grow hard and heavy against her hipbone.

Refusing to get distracted, he ignored his growing length and shifted his attention to the ambiance of her pulse, and indeed, she’d had enough.

Lifting himself hurriedly, he grabbed one of the scrolls as Nym lay like a ragdoll on her pillow. He couldn't help but glance at her face, to find a sleepy reassuring smile that had painted both her mouth and eyes, charmingly.

Opening the scroll, he smiled too, as he chanted the famed “te absolvo”, curing her impending exsanguination.

Before he could get lost in moral contemplation, he dove back into her in the same position as before, utilizing the puncture wounds he’d previously made. 

—Her flavour is the same as before, except sweeter? Is she becoming aroused as well?

The poor thing, she’d been keeping so still with such desirous little thoughts swimming through her mind. It was unmistakable, but still, he was sure to maintain his resolve as he imbibed.

Again, her pulse slowed and Astarion routinely detached and swiftly used one of their scrolls.

—Three more to go.

He nipped and then sucked at her tender, bruising flesh, taking greedy pulls off her lifeblood until she couldn’t stand to lose anymore, affording himself no time to peer at her expression before hastily using the next scroll.

His length was now painfully hard, and this time, he unbiddenly released an animalistic groan into her as he supped. It was almost becoming more distracting to not be inside her. But he continued to drink, pushing the thoughts away.

Until. . . 

He felt a sudden presence in his mind.

The presence felt simultaneously unknown and familiar, and he sensed he had no choice but to let it invade, as Nym’s pulse was his main priority.

As the folds of his mind slipped open, he felt an overwhelming pleasure surge through his body, accompanied by visions of himself wholly entwined with Nym.

—The tadpole.

Nym must’ve accidentally projected her thoughts into his mind; disruptive, salacious thoughts that felt impossible to ignore. However, the thoughts came and went within a few moments, jolting his attention back to Nym, whose pulse was exceptionally weakened.

“Shit.” He sat up and frantically grabbed the third scroll, chanting the incantation and embuing Nym with its magic. 

This time, Nym coughed, covering her mouth with her forearm as the healing scroll dispelled her daze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Faint?” He attempted to finish her sentence.

She exhaled exasperatedly. “No—I didn’t know that we could do that with the tadpoles. I promise I didn’t try to on purpose,” she exclaimed, rising to her elbows with flushed cheeks.

“I know you didn’t. You’ve been such a good girl.” He crawled toward her, gripping her thigh. “I’m beginning to think this might be better—easier for us both if we capitulate.” He ran his hand up her thigh and to her folds, which he found weeping.

With upward canting brows, Nym parted her legs, bringing her knees up to accommodate his plot. She bit her lip, unsuccessfully stifling a moan as Astarion's mouth descended to her bud.

He inserted a digit, pumping into her languidly before beginning to silkily lap up her clit consistently with his practiced tongue.

Feeling generous due to the enormity of her favour, he thought it best to avoid teasing. He promptly inserted a second finger, stroking her plush inner walls with fervour as he continued his oral worship.

To this, she bucked her hips, but Astarion used his free arm to pin her hips down, halting her movements with his strong grasp without removing himself from her mound.

Nym’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she approached her climax, her body fluttering around his digits. “You’re so good to me,” she slurred between breaths.

His brows knit together at her words. Astarion didn’t feel like he’d been good to her; he felt like a leech, constantly draining her for all she was worth—metaphorically and literally. However, the part of him that hoped to be good enough for her felt traitorous to his entire being.

Was he really using her like he’d been used—subjecting her to his machinations to gain her support? And yet, when that support was passionately given, he couldn’t even accept it. He couldn’t accept that she truly cared, as if choosing to see his own Machiavellianism within her.

His dirty, tainted Machiavellianism.

The sound of her quickened pulse in her inner thigh was relentlessly beating in his ears, pulling him from his rumination.

He flicked her clit a few more times before she came, her pussy quivering around his fingers as her nectar sluiced through her swollen folds. Groaning, he pulled his face from her thoroughly cared-for nethers only to sink his teeth into her inner thigh, all without removing his slowing hand.

She tensed at first, reminding him to hold her thigh instead of her hips. 

He held her closely, forcing her to keep still on his maw as he drank and fucked her with his digits. Opening his eyes, he saw her fist grasping the blanket with white knuckles as she cried out; though Astarion wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure, pain, or both. Nevertheless, he avoided pursuing his dismantling thoughts again—focusing solely on the way her quim felt around his fingers and the way her blood pulsed on his tongue.

Finally, the incessant drumming of her pulse weakened. He abated, unsheathing his fangs before snatching a scroll with one dexterous hand and wriggling his fingers into her spongey sweet spot with the other.

He spoke the incantation hastily, and once she’d been healed, he cavalierly tossed the scroll to the side, discarding it. 

He pulled his fingers out, causing Nym to whine sweetly as she seemed to tremble from trepidation.

“Sh— I know you want to be filled—desperately,” he purred, climbing atop her, caging her between his elbows which rested on either side of her head while he keenly caressed her hair, slicking it back and out of her face. “I'm so very pleased with you, darling—my sweet, experimental little druid.” His last words came out slurred, as if he were drunk.

While he stroked her, she seemed to melt in his touch—all fear dissipating from her demeanour.

Astarion prodded at her hole with his tip before attempting to ease into her slowly; however, he was beginning to feel off-balance. He inadvertently fully sheathed himself as he toppled onto her ungracefully, causing Nym to squeak in surprise.

“Are you okay?” she asked, panting.

“Never better,” he babbled, lifting himself to his elbows again.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt better—he didn’t think a negative thought could cross his mind even if he tried. And he wouldn’t dare to try, lest he risk spoiling the moment.

Growling, he began to rut into her at a consistent pace, noting that she felt much tighter than usual—likely due to the extra blood pumping through his erection, expanding it. 

He watched her face as she frowned in pleasure, her body undulating with each thrust. Her wetness enraptured him, spurring him into a bout of eagerness. His pace became punishing, as he jerked into her with great abandon. 

Nym, in turn, began crying out in pleasure, speaking words in elvish that he didn’t understand nor care to understand as his inhibitions dwindled.

Though, he could feel his climax approaching, and he didn’t want to cum yet.

—Not like this. 

Craning his neck forward, he slowed as he instinctively tried to catch his breath, but he noticed he could only manage to take shallow breaths as if there were less space for his lungs to expand. 

He was a wreck, with his chin covered in Nym’s ambrosia and his body gleaming with sweat. His hair was no different, as it drooped and swayed, wet on his hung head.

He seated his girth within her, trying to avoid his orgasm as he kissed the unsullied side of her neck. Recalling his routine, he brought a hand to the back of her head, carding his fingers through her hair and rubbing her scalp tenderly.

“Last one, my dear,” he whispered, only somewhat coherently.

Upon hearing her whimper of assent, he bit into her soft flesh—this time, groaning raucously as he started to roll his hips again, angling them just right within her channel.

He began to feel an odd sensation within his torso, as if his abdomen was tight and uncomfortable, accompanied by the pressure in his chest. His usual post-meal clarity had dissipated; he felt foggy, inebriated—absolutely soused, in fact. 

Nevertheless, he continued making a meal of his cherished woman—

—Or. . . not my woman—the woman that's helping me, or something of that effect. He giggled internally, his smile on her throat.

However, he became frustrated as he approached his precipice unbiddenly once again. Annoyed, he growled, spattering blood and creating a mess which, to his surprise, didn’t make Nym shudder. Slowing his pace again, he snaked a lithe hand to her bud, causing her breath to hitch. Her sex was silken and pert when he began his reverence, circling her nub languidly.

She mewled words of supplication as her body tensed, her hips tilting back. Consequently, Astarion sped up his toying, as he rolled into her with lissom, pacing himself.

Then, he could feel Nym’s body clenching around his member as she came at last, crying his name like a sinful melody.

He applied pressure to her clit, teasingly, causing her to squirm on his velvet hardness and signifying her fulfillment. He always thought it was cute when the overstimulation would make her wiggle, especially when he was inside her. However, he abated, moving his hand to her hips, where he would grip her and rutt into her hungrily—finally allowing himself to chase his own release.

He was sure that Nym’s throat would be adorned in pretty, dark bruises when he was done with her. 

—She’d make anything look good, he thought, fleetingly.

He forced his final gulps as stars began to addle his vision and his pace became ragged. Fire pooled in his abdomen as he snapped his hips into Nym. Unrivalled pleasure rippled through him as he pulsed into her, filling her with his essence. He thrust shallowly as he removed his fangs from her throat, replacing his sharp bite with the flat of his tongue. 

Her pulse was steady, stronger than it usually was after his feedings.

Astarion took his time, caring for her fresh bite with his tongue, followed by his lips which he'd use to kiss her gingerly—tracing a line with them towards her mouth.

His lips connected with hers, but he was dizzy and sloppy. His teeth briefly clicked on hers while he ravished her mouth. Humming into his lips, Nym lithely wrapped her arms around him as she wriggled her hips.

Astarion bestowed one more experimental thrust before pulling out and ungracefully searching for a scroll. His vision was doubled—or tripled, he couldn't tell. He felt heavy as he roamed the side of the bedroll with splayed fingers.

“Where in the hells is the Godsdamned scroll?” He piped, slurring his words.

Nym sighed into a mirth-filled giggle. “You're three sheets to the wind,” she chided.

Astarion swung his torso to see her, but his eyes failed him, as she, too, had an identical pseudo counterpart. The world began to spin around him, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

A twinkling sound and a bluish-white light came from what he thought was Nym’s direction, befuddling him further. He swore he could see Nym approaching when he felt something cold and wet on his forehead.

“Here—lay down. It's my turn to take care of you,” she crooned, holding the back of his head.

Her voice was mellifluous, lulling him into submission as he laid back.

“On your side,” she instructed, removing her hand from his scalp. The object, seemingly ice, disappeared from his forehead for a moment, only to be returned whilst wrapped in cheesecloth or something of that nature.

“Can you hold this here for me?” She inquired.

“Anything for you—hic—darling,” he murmured, a hiccup breaking his sentence.

He fumbled his hand towards the ice, and his fingers brushed on hers before she resigned. 

“How can you be so filled with blood and still be so pale?” Nym asked in a joking manner. “Te Absolvo,” she chanted.

“Ha!” He laughed. “How can you be so kind when I’ve done nothing but—ah,” he hissed, feeling a wet cloth against his member.

“Ope—sorry! It'll be over in just a second.” She continued to wash him, before finding a new cloth to dampen and wipe his face with.

“Alrightalright—I'm not a child,” he protested, attempting to move his face from her torture.

“But you've got blood all over your stupid face,” she retorted.

“Oh, have I now? And who's fault is that?” He asked, garbling and raising a brow as he attempted to look at her. Unsuccessful, he closed his eyes again.

Nym let up her washing and placed the cloths somewhere irrelevant, but likely the hamper.

“Hmm—good question. . .” She paused. “I think the fault lies equally in both our hands.”

“By the Hells—I’m only teasing.” He pouted. “You think I’d actually blame you for that? And after ravishing you, so?” he rasped.

He felt the blanket cover him as the ice he held dripped water down his wrist. 

“Open,” she instructed, and he felt glass touch his lips. 

With a lack of inhibitions, he obeyed, parting his lips and tilting his head back. Whatever potion she was giving him smelt floral, and sharp, but its flavour was dull and slightly bitter; his ability to taste anything but blood was less than keen.

After downing a small amount of liquid, he—surprisingly—started feeling better. Opening his eyes, he saw a slightly blurry Nym, who had thrown on her poncho, smiling at him with adoration.

“Ginger,” she beamed, “one of my fancy druid's tricks.”

He blinked intentionally a few times, clearing his vision fully before sitting up and removing the ice from his forehead. “Thank you.”

Although he remained off-balance and intoxicated, he wasn’t queasy anymore. He recalled the last time he retched; It was after he drank from a rotten rat, the first thing he had eaten for weeks. It reminded him that he hadn't told Nym about Cazador yet, which gave him a sudden urge to spill his most personal secret. 

“You want to know about my master,” he babbled, without a second thought.

“Shh—tell me when you’re not drunk—or—whatever this is,” she whispered while fussing with something in the corner of the tent.

Nym spun to face him, holding a thick, weathered, brown and purple book of blank parchment as well as a piece of charcoal. “So, first of all, how do you feel?” she began her questioning, shimmying eagerly as she sat on her heels.

—Right—the experiment.

Astarion had been enjoying himself so much that he'd forgotten the true purpose of their recently concluded mischief.

“Er—dizzy, but amazing,” he responded, trying to be helpful while rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

Brows knitted, Nym wrote on the parchment like a true specialist. It intrigued him, reminding him of his sister, Dalyria, one of Cazador's spawns who had been a doctor in her mortal life.

“And would you say that you feel full?” She asked.

Pondering his answer, Astarion tried to tune into the feel of his body. He knew his abdomen felt tight and uncomfortable, but he wasn’t quite sure if full was the right word. Additionally, the heavy feeling was becoming less noticeable by the minute.

“When we'd first finished I felt stiff and uncomfortably heavy—but now. . .” he paused, “I am less uncomfortable, I suppose.” His face contorted in confusion.

—Is this what it feels like to be full?

“Ah—so my theory was correct,” she added before putting her book and charcoal down. “Say, for example, I were to drink a broth—that would take approximately forty minutes to pass through my stomach and into my small intestine,” she explained, pulling her poncho to the side and illustrating with her finger on her abdomen. “I hypothesized that blood—if it were similar to broth—would take forty minutes give-or-take to pass from your stomach. So really it must feel like if I were to drink broth; I'd only feel satiated for mere minutes,” she spoke while gesticulating.

—Clever girl.

Nym continued her gleaning, picking up her book and beginning to write something else.

“Why did you think we would need five scrolls?” He prodded.

Still writing, Nym pursed her lips before answering his question. “Well, it was simple, really. The human body contains five litres of blood. Losing forty percent of that blood causes exsanguination, and you could probably stand to lose thirty percent without fainting—do you follow?” Nym asked, checking in.

Astarion held a finger to his chin, and his brows came together as he focused, seemingly becoming less woozy by the minute. He gave her a curt nod, urging her to continue.

“Good. So assuming you also are supposed to have approximately five litres of blood running through your veins, and the average stomach can hold about three litres of volume, and if you account for the fact that my blood that you drank last night is likely coursing through you, then you would need to consume. . .” she paused to write on the parchment.

She flipped her book to show Astarion what she’d written.

5+3-0.5=7.5

5x0.30=1.5

7.5÷1.5=5

5 scrolls for 7.5 litres of blood.

“Of course, it's all just based on estimation and assuming that you slept off around a litre of my blood from last night—which I'm starting to think you didn't. Either that, or your stomach is smaller or you have less space in your cardiovascular system than I'd guessed. There's also the possibility that you drank less than one point five litres last night.” She shrugged. “Oh well—no harm, no foul.”

Astarion was intrigued, however, he noticed that she had failed to make one crucial calculation.

“You've never seen me bleed, have you?” He asked, earnestly.

Nym's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as they frantically darted along the open page of her book. “No. . .”

“I thought not. We haven't been in many battles as of yet. I haven't been injured,” he added.

“Right.” Looking towards him, she nodded in agreement.

“I bleed, too—regardless of whether or not I've eaten. Blood runs through my veins, though how much of it, I don't know.” He shook his head, gazing at the floor. “There's a chance that I have less than a mortal, I suppose. That would explain the lack of colour in my complexion.”

Nym’s eyes widened. Dropping her book, she grabbed her scalp, looking down. “Agh—how could I forget to think of that? Gods, I'm so stupid sometimes.”

Astarion giggled at her dramatism, “It’s okay, but I think I overindulged more than we thought. I started feeling tipsy after the fourth scroll, so perhaps three was enough. It's. . . possible that I couldn't recognize the sensation of being full.”

“Gods—are you in pain?” she asked, pressing her palms into the ground and staring at him, concerned.

“Agh—no. Don't you worry your little head about me. You've already done so much,” he scolded. “Now, quit being so nice to me or I'll have to be nice back.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Nym paused at his words for a moment. “You're already. . . nice to me, Astarion. Did you not know that?” she asked.

—Helpless, stupid, little druid. 

He smiled wryly, condescendingly tilting his head. “I'm joking. Now, what's our plan for the day?” he asked; though, he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to move around much yet.

“Oh!” Nym beamed, clapping her hands together excitedly and causing Astarion to flinch in his addled state. “We’re going to visit Auntie Ethel!”

—Ethel? The demented old bag from the grove? he mused. This is going to be fun.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•☾☼☽•:•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

End notes: I've nothing to say <3 thanks for reading.

[blingblong55]

Can't catch me now- Simon "Ghost" Riley

Photo credits: @ave661 ---- No mentions of reader, angst, comfort? fluff? death of character ----

"GHOST!" 

It was too late, the body hit the ground. Simon Joseph Riley was pronounced dead. Gunshot to the head, his heart penetrated by the bullet and the ones to witness this are his mates from the team. His blood ran down the rocky mountain. The team witnesses something. During this whole mission, they only experienced rain and thunder, to their surprise, the second Simon dies, the sun shines through the clouds. A rainbow was born over the horizon. "Enjoy your new home, soldier," Captain Price nods at his own words as with glee he knows his comrade is finally home. "Take it easy," Gaz takes his cap on and looks at the sun that pours from the clouds. "Tell Soap we'll meet him for drinks someday," Price adds and fights back tears.

 It's the end of an era but the beginning of a good life for the two past comrades. 

Three days later, there he is, his body in that casket, a proper military funeral given to him and he is laid to rest with the rest of his family. 

Simon opens the door to his childhood home, the sun rays casting through the window, the walls grey and white "Welcome home, son," his mum greets him. There is confusion in Simon. Why was he here? is this a dream? Before he can even gather his thoughts, his brother, nephew and even his sister-in-law walk into the entryway and hug him. "Welcome home, brother," Tommy whispers as he hugs a confused Simon. 

Why is his dead family here? Welcome home! what does this mean?

Oh...

Oh by all luck, he's dead. 

"Mum?" 

"Yes, Simon?" the woman's sweet voice rings in his ears. 

All of a sudden, he is excited and happy. A smile creeps into his lips and there it was, that good feeling. He is home. His body doesn't ache, the scars are gone and all that is left with him is a smile and an afterlife where in this one, he finally has it all. 

"The girls are in the kitchen," his mum whispers. 

His wife and girls? There it is, that smile. He hasn't seen them since their funeral, this must mean he truly is in heaven. 

He walks past his mother and goes into the kitchen. The sight is too much to not just stop and idolise. His wife, his three daughters and those smiles and giggles. "Girls?" His voice is raspy. There is a knot in his throat. He is home with them too. "Daddy!" His youngest smiles and runs to him with her small arms open, his two other daughters follow suit. 

"Oh, my loves," his big arms wrapping over all of his daughters. Tears run down, happy ones. It's been two years since he last held them this way. "My lovie," Simon holds his arm out so his sweet wife can join this moment. That gentle and soft hand of hers, god it's like the heavens finally gave him peace. He sobs, it's uncontrollable and how can a man like him control such tears when after so long of losing his family...families to his job he finally has both? 

He gives kisses to all their foreheads. "Daddy, what took so long?" His eldest little princess asks. "I don't know princess, but I'm finally home," he reassures and hugs her again. Those tears run down yet again and he won't stop them. 

This is his heaven. The walls, the giggles, the hugs, and that familiar scent. Heaven is not clouds and a pearly gate for him, no, but it is this. A kitchen, his four loves, his mum, Tommy, Joseph and even Beth, everyone that has ever mattered to him is here and for once, he is in heaven. 

"Uncle Soap!" Joseph smiles. 

Soap?...Johnny?

"About time you came to the party, LT," Soap pats Simon's back. 

"Great to see you, mate." 

"Likewise. I held onto a good bottle for ya, yer girl won't let me open it though," Soap sends a teasing annoyed look at Simons's wife and a small chuckle escapes Simon. 

"She's a stubborn one, like yer, Lt." Soap teases. "I married her for a reason, isn't it right, love?" Simon can't help but smile as he gets to finally say that nickname again. "Very, Si." What a sweet delight, to have his pretty girl call him that again. 

"Price and Gaz joining?"

"Not yet, give them a few good years."

"Daddy, let's go play outside!" 

This is what he missed. The demands from his princess, the giggles, the big eyes and that pout when he would say no. "Okay, but only before your mum wipes that chocolate stain from your nose." He chuckles. "Deal," the little girl runs back to Simons's wife. 

From a corner, Simon sees Tommy. He's playing catch with his son, laughing at some dumb joke. 

It's beautiful. It's painfully beautiful how one can die on Earth but live in their heaven. 

One soldier dreams of this, they yearn for it and that is what Simon did for nearly 28 years. Now, all he has is this. No more war, no more aches, no one to chase. He can grow in this home again. He will live the life he always dreamed and right now, that is all he wants and needs. 

Yeah, you thought that this was the end

A/N: I honestly don't know where this was heading so....im sorry if it's shit

Tags:

@joyfulmarvelofavengers @ghostnna22 @hermizery @liyanahelena @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @krinoid24 @iruzias @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @the_royal_bee @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @anonxasian @born4biriyani @thegreyjoyed

[winstonsns]

could i request something about reader who is a curtis sister, about 12 years old, and she’s like suzy bishop from moonrise kingdom? c: (sorry it’s kinda specific)

the gang and child suzy bishop!reader (request)

authors note: i researched about suzy bishop, and my resources said she’s fierce, angsty and has a temper. so basically, that’s what the reader is like, a curtis sister too. i’m sorry i haven’t been posting at good times, i’ve been very occupied with volunteering at my schools graduation and getting ready for the end of the year. this is my longest post so far!! 💗

includes ponyboy, johnny, soda, darry, dally, two-bit and steve

word count: 3.3k

warnings: cussing, blood, fighting, drinking, depression

PONYBOY CURTIS

you and your brother, ponyboy were walking home from school, you two saw a blue mustang, knowing it was a couple of socs

the two of you knew what to do in this situation, so you sped up, trying to get to your house quicker

four of the socs jumped out of the car, the driver still driving

two of them grabbed your arms and two grabbed your brother’s, pinning ponyboy to the ground

he started screaming for his brothers, while you stayed quiet, a knife held to ponyboy’s throat

“motherfucker—“ you mumbled, kicking one of the socs in the shin, forcing both of them to let go of you, kneeing one in the dick and punching his face, he fell to his knees in pain

you kicked the one on your left in the stomach, getting a rock nearby and hitting his face with it, blood dripping down the socs face

the socs that were holding down ponyboy looked at you in fear, looking at each other for a brief second, then you glared at them and ran towards them

the ones who were holding you down ran away to the car, and the socs who were with ponyboy ran when you came towards them

all the socs were gone, and the two of you were safe, you looked at your brother with worry, not blinking, however he thought you were mad at him

you grabbed him by the shirt, lifting him up and continued walking

he eventually caught up to you and said, “thanks, sis..” so you nodded and didn’t say anything else

you were hard to read, and he hated that, he never knew if you cared, and sometimes thought of you like how he thought of darry

pony always wondered if darry loved him, and thought of his ‘cold, pale eyes,’ a way he would describe you at times, cold

since you were ponyboys little brother and were close in age, just a two year difference, the two of you naturally became close

you told each other everything, however it could be a problem sometimes since he was more emotional than you, and at times you hardly showed any feelings

even acting cold towards people if they pissed you off for some reason

you had a temper but tried not to yell at anyone you were close to, not wanting to say something you didn’t mean

but you felt a very wide range of emotions, even very extreme ones like getting angry to the point of hurting others

you were insulted easily, so ponyboy always back you up and stand up for you if someone said something rude, or something you interpreted as disrespectful

you showed your care for your brother in little ways, like helping him with his homework or bringing him a glass of water, slipping money into his pocket when going out, etc

ponyboy loved you even though you were hard to reason with, you had strong opinions and wouldn’t back down from them, if he had to say one negative word that described you, he would say ‘stubborn’

but he loves being around you because of how loyal you are, you would always stand up for others if you truly loved them

JOHNNY CADE

you were with johnny in the lot, talking with each other about some funny things that happened with the gang, him giggling while you kept a straight face

even though he was supposed to be ponyboy’s best friend since they were closer in age, he decided to befriend you so you two could become closer, to understand each other more

he always had a sad look in his eyes, while you had a look that made people think you had no purpose in life, but in a ‘nothing’ type of way

so when johnny told you “oh, uh, your classmate came up to me today. i know you probably don’t wanna hear this, but she made up a rumor about you. said you beat up a first grader or something and that you’re a horrible person..” you bet your ass you were furious

johnny looked at you, both of you still walking around the lot, and your eyes were suddenly filled with hate

“hmm..” you mumbled, not saying anything after, your fists clenched in anger

you didn’t say anything, you didn’t want to burst out at him, so you said, “i think i need some quiet.”

he knew you would say this when you were angry, not wanting to be rude and say something you didn’t mean, so he stayed quiet

a few minutes later, you said “thank you for telling me.” and started up another conversation

he always appreciated how you would thank people, you were polite but were willing to be rude if your friends were being bullied

johnny would always try to invite you to hangouts, and you would always accept, he considered you one of the more mature ones of the group even though you were the youngest

whenever he looked at you, your eyes would be filled with nothing, as if your eyes were dead, and if they weren’t, your eyes would be filled with hate

but he knew you were going through much more, you felt more than how other people felt, emotions were heightened but you didn’t show it

johnny realized you cared about him when you beat up a soc, who was nearly suffocating him, putting the soc in a chokehold and taking him off of your friend

pushing the soc onto the ground, you grabbed johnny by the back of his denim jacket and ran

you were smart, smarter than others and you used your head

he loved that about you, you were loyal, the fact that you were so loyal had scared him too, knowing that if he ever did something to piss you off, you could fuck him up

but you wouldn’t, you cared too much

SODAPOP CURTIS

you and soda were at the DX, you decided to hang out there after school because you wanted to do homework there and read

when you saw soda’s ex girlfriend, you glared at her, hatred in your eyes, a cold gaze on her

“soda, you bitch! you’re so fucking terrible, ugly ass whore, you’re a dumbass too!! you, telling people about how i cheated on you?! this is supposed to be between us, dipshit—“ she got cut off because you punched her in the face

no one else was in the shop, so you felt free to do whatever

“y/n, stop! oh wait no one’s here, never mind.” your brother said

you grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out of the DX, telling her, “don’t fucking diss my brother again, i can do more than just punch you.”

she ran away, tears in her eyes, and you walked back into the DX, a blank expression on your face again

soda asked you why you punched her, you replied with, “she was talking shit about you, did you not hear?” an annoyed tone to your voice

he looked at you and said, “oh, yeah… thanks, sis.”

you nodded and didn’t reply, went back to doing your homework

he admired how you were good at school, better than he ever was, and you were younger than ponyboy

he tried to get closer to you emotionally even though you wouldn’t let many people get close, always pushing them away before you could

you felt empty inside, not in a sad way, but in a ‘whatever’ way, still hoping for something more

that’s how he felt too, and he knew, so he tried to bring you food or hang out with you more so you could feel better

you were so loyal, to the point of hurting someone else if they were rude to the people you were close to

he didn’t know how to describe you, he would see you as cold sometimes, but in the dally type of way

not in the hating everyone type of way, but the protective ‘don’t let anyone in’ way

he would defend you when others would say you’re weird, not just because you were his sister but because he truly cared about you

DARRY CURTIS

you were out, and it was 2am, walking back home

you were previously ‘busy’ at a restaurant, you had snuck in to do homework because you didn’t want to do it at home

you totally lost track of time, and before you knew it, everyone was gone and the outside was dark

you walked home with your backpack, not being nervous even though hardly any light was out, the only source being the street lights

when you were within a block of your house, you saw the lights were on, and you sighed

you walked into the living room and closed the door, seeing darry on the recliner, putting the phone down

he got up and you backed up, speaking loudly, “where the hell have you been!? it’s nearly three, you better have a good reason why you were out. plus, it’s a school night.”

you stared at him, replying with, “i don’t have a good reason why i was out. i was doing homework and lost track of time.”

you didn’t blink, and he started speaking louder, walking towards you slowly with a mad look on his face

you didn’t back up, wanting him to think you didn’t care, but he said, “it’s not safe for you to be outside after dark. you have to be inside, in the damn house by 12. you know what the hell happened to that girl a few blocks down, don’t you? you don’t even have a switchblade in your pocket, how are you gonna protect yourself, huh? huh!?”

your throat closed up and tears slowly formed in your eyes, so you quietly said, “it won’t happen again.” and walked away, your head down, soda looking at you

you went to your room and sat on the bed, staring at the floor, sighing

you felt like darry didn’t care about you sometimes, but you know he did deep down, he was just hard on you because you cared so much

you heard a knock on your door, and the door opened slowly, darry coming into the room

he looked at you for a few seconds, trying to observe you, but knowing it was impossible because you had the same expression all the time, emptiness

“i just get worried about you sometimes, im sorry i… almost yelled at you. i don’t want that to happen again, though.” he said, and you nodded, looking down at the floor again

he walked in your direction, sitting next to you on your bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead, saying, “you’re a good kid, y/n.”

he got up off the bed, walking out the door and going into his own

he would worry about you constantly, never knowing whether you were okay or not

the two of you acted the same at times, both with cold eyes and showed love in difficult ways

he would try to bond with you over homework, he would always check it and congratulate you when you would get it right, baking with you, etc, just so you would maybe show emotion

DALLAS WINSTON

you were at the police station for getting into a fight with one of your classmates, breaking a boy’s nose because he was talking shit about your brother, ponyboy

a policeman told you to call someone, so you called the curtis number, but no one picked up

so you called dally’s number, knowing he had experience in this situation

he answered, and you told him, “dally, can you pick me up at the station?” with a flat voice

he replied with, “i’ll be there in ten.” and hung up

ten minutes later, the doors swung open and he stormed in, asking loudly, “where the hell is y/n curtis?”

a policeman sighed and asked you, “you asked dallas winston to pick you up?” and you nodded, he scoffed and motioned you to go to dally

the two of you walked out of the station, him driving you to your house

“the fuck were you in there for?” he asked with concern

“beat up a kid in my class for talking shit about pony.” you replied, looking out of the window

he nodded, knowing you would get overwhelmed sometimes, causing you to act aggressive

the two of you had that in common, you were fine with beating people up if they were talking shit about someone you knew

he felt bad for you at times, you never looked like you had emotions, and he assumed you had none for a while, you were tough, too tough for your age

he’d try to calm you down at times, even though you were stubborn, so you wouldn’t do anything you’d regret

he cared for you as he cared for johnny, you needed to be loved, like how even dally needed to be loved

TWO-BIT MATTHEWS

he was at the curtis house with the gang when you came in, backpack on and flowers in your hand

“hey sis, how was school?” soda asked, and two-bit teased, “yeah, and why do you have flowers? someone like you, huhhhh???”

“school was fine. i have flowers because a boy gave them to me.” you said, and two-bit ‘oooo’d, “as a joke.” you continued

“shit, you serious? did you beat him up?” he asked, and you nodded, saying you got sent home early

you sat next to him, he was on the couch so you sat on his left, he had chocolate cake on his lap

“want some?” he asked, and you shook your head, knowing you could get more if you wanted some

the two of you stared at the screen of the tv, mickey mouse playing, he laughed and looked at you, seeing your blank expression, not blinking

“you okay?” he asked, taking a pause from watching mickey mouse and eating cake, putting down the fork, looking at you with worry

you nodded, and he asked once again, “you sure? you don’t ever seem to show that much emotion..”

you stared at the tv, saying, “i just don’t feel much sometimes. but you should know i do care. about a lot. i don’t look like i show emotion, im guessing.”

he stared at you, feeling remorse for asking you the question in the first place, apologizing

he always tries to make jokes in order to try to get you to smile or show an expression other than nothing

two-bit realized you cared about him more than he thought when you called him keith, and telling him he should stop drinking, that he might die early and he shouldn’t want being drunk to be his normal

you would talk to him about emotions, even though it was rare, he would always be happy that you were opening up

he understood emotions better than the rest of the gang, which is something you didn’t expect, but you didn’t tell him that

he would give you advice, he had already been through a lot but was a loving person

STEVE RANDLE

steve and soda were at the DX, working while you were secretly in the back, doing your homework

steve was about to go on his break when he went into the back, seeing your back facing him, hearing you writing something

“y/n? the hell are you doing here, shouldn’t you be at home?” he asked

“no one’s home.” you replied, not even looking at him

the conversation ended there, and he walked back to soda, who was at the cashier, telling him about what just happened

“hey, uh, your sisters in the back doing homework. do you know why she’s here?” he asked your brother

he looked at steve, saying, “i’m guessing no one was home. i don’t know why she’s here though.” he looked into the back, seeing you finishing up your packet of homework

steve asked your brother if you were okay, and soda went on a rant, saying, “i have no idea, man.. i feel bad, we don’t talk much. i mean, i know she’s my sister and all but we don’t seem close, like, at all. she doesn’t seem close to anyone.. just does her own thing, but she has a lot of great qualities. she’s a good person, but i really worry about her, man.. she won’t talk to me about things.” he paused, “i know this might seem like a lot, and you don’t have to… but do you think you could talk to her? ask how she’s doing?”

steve thought for a second and nodded, walking into the back and sitting on the counter where you were doing your work

“hey, uh, you okay? i’m getting off work in a bit, i can walk you home.” he hesitantly said

you looked up from your paper, staring at him for a couple seconds and saying, “sure.”

a few minutes later, he came into the back and told you, “hey get packed up, i’ll get you home.”

you grabbed your backpack and walked to the front, soda mumbling a “hey” and bringing you into an embrace, but you didn’t know how to respond

you awkwardly patted his back, and when he let go, you and steve walked home

two girls walked past you, both socs and not where they were supposed to be

they giggled and said, “god, why are they dressed like that? stupid hoods..” and you looked back at them, stopping in your tracks

you made eye contact with one of the girls and walked towards her, punching her in the face, her head going back and her friends eyes going wide, jaw dropping and gasping, hands going over her mouth

she grabbed her friend and the two of them ran back to their car, not looking back at you

you walked back to steve and continued walking to your house, he asked you, “why the fuck did you do that?”

“they were talking shit about us.” you replied, and didn’t say anything else, eyes concentrated on what was around you, observing

he thanked you for standing up for him and yourself, saying you could’ve handled it better though

you looked up and glared at him, looking down and thinking, ‘the fuck else was i supposed to do? i just helped him, god..’ but not saying it out loud

you got frustrated at times, and he understood that well

but that one interaction with you helped him make up his mind, that you were a true friend and were loving

you didn’t consider him a friend, and he didn’t consider you a friend either, but the two of you would protect each other and stand up for each other

authors note: i’m so sorry i’ve been posting late!! i’ve been really occupied but im trying my best to post

[reigningqueenofwords]

Paintings

Pairing: Castiel x Winchester!Reader Word count: 1,953

Read on AO3

Sitting in the room that your brothers had set up for you, you tilted your head as you looked over the canvas in front of you. You were surrounded by some finished pieces, pieces you’d started and were waiting for new inspiration for, and then some pieces you hated and just never threw away. You were wearing a pair of old jeans and a tank top, not caring about the amount of paint that currently covered you. 

There was a knock on the door before it opened. When you looked over your shoulder, you were met with Dean’s face. “Sis, we kill things for a living, so please tell me why you paint like this?” He motioned around as he stepped it. 

“Like what?” You raised an eyebrow at him, looking innocent. 

He played Vanna White at your current piece. “Like you just ripped a guy’s heart out and decided to paint with it?!” He said simply. “It’s weird.” He shuddered. “It’s like the murder room in here.” He explained. 

You blinked. “Huh.” You shrugged. “I never thought of it that way.” You admitted. “Maybe it’s my way of working through things we see? You drink and jack off to Busty Asian Beauties. Sam nerds out. I paint.” That was your best theory. “And spend time with Cas when he can.” You pouted. He’d been somewhat busy lately, leaving you little time with your boyfriend. 

“Hopefully he can take you out soon. Get you away from this.” He motioned to your work again. “Can’t you paint something with life?” He asked. 

“I could try, but it probably wouldn’t be any good.” You told him. 

He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got talent, so stop trying to pretend you don’t. Anyways, dinner is done.” He moved towards the door. “Can you take a break from blood and guts to eat with your older brothers?” He teased you. 

“Give me five minutes to put the covers on my pallets and clean my brushes.” You smiled. “And get me a beer?” You asked him, going to work on cleaning up. “And not one of those alcohol free ones you’re hell bent on me drinking.” 

“You’re my baby sister, so sue me.” 

Stopping what you were doing, you stared at him. “Dean. I turned thirty two months ago .” You laughed. “I’m not a baby!” 

“Shuddup.” He muttered before leaving you alone. 

“Wash your hands.” Sam told you as he set things out on the table. “I know your hands are covered in paint.” 

You chuckled. “Jokes on you. My hands are clean, Sammy.” You showed him when he looked up at you. “Had to clean my brushes.” You explained. “Need any help?” You offered. 

He smiled. “Nope. We’re good.” He sat down as Dean brought over three beers. “I actually cooked dinner. No takeout tonight.” He said proudly. 

“Oh, impressive. And I was so getting used to the bad Chinese and Taco Bell.” You teased, getting yourself comfortable. “And thank you for the real beer.” You told Dean, lifting it to your lips. 

Cas appeared a moment later. “Oh, you’ve already begun dinner.” He sighed. “I was hoping to take Y/N for a date.” He explained. “Perhaps another night.” He noted, sitting down. 

Dean nudged you. “Go on.” He told you. “Or he’s going to pout like a puppy who lost his bone.” He teased his best friend. It had been weird as hell when you first started dating him, but over time...he was okay with it. “Besides, that ‘another night’ might not happen for weeks for all we know.” He pointed out. 

“You sure?” You looked between the boys. “You cooked.” You reminded Sam. 

He smiled, nodding. “I can easily put the leftovers in the freezer.” He assured you. “Go.” 

You got up, moving to hug each of your brothers. “You’re the best. Love you. I promise I’ll work on that ‘life’ painting tomorrow, Dean!” You kissed his cheek, making him chuckle and shake his head. You got to Cas and held out your hand. “All yours!” 

Cas’s face lit up as he stood. “I am looking forward to our date. I’ve missed you.” He said sweetly before he kissed you. 

Dean made a face. “Dude.” He said jokingly. 

“Going!” You laughed, tugging Cas out of the room. “Let me change and then we can go. Did you have someplace in mind?” You asked as you neared your room. “So I know how to dress.” 

“You are fine in what you are wearing.” He chuckled. “Although, I would suggest shoes.” He pointed out. “I find I enjoy when you are covered in paint. Means you had a good day in your ‘studio’, which I know makes you happy.” His blue eyes traveled over your body as he spoke. 

You blushed and looked at him. “Can I show you my latest work?” You asked shyly, wanting to see if he thought the same thing as Dean. 

He beamed. “Of course.” He nodded, letting you tug him in the direction of your little studio. “I always enjoy seeing it.” He had simply watched you work for hours on end before, observing you. It was beautiful. 

Opening the door, you let him in and shut it behind him. “Dean doesn’t get my work.” You told him. “Says it looks like I took a guy’s heart and painted with it or something.” You traced your fingers gently over the outside of your new canvas. “Asked me to paint something with ‘life’.” You sighed. 

“What is more full of life than blood?” Cas asked. When you looked at him, eyebrow raised, he smiled at you. “Blood truly is life.” He pointed out. “Without it, humans would die, animals would parish.” 

You nodded at that. “That is a very good point.” You agreed. “Dean calls it the murder room.” You shrugged. “I dunno, just wanted your opinion. I never noticed it until he said that. I like my work. It speaks to me. Except for those.” You pointed to the corner. “Those are my disowned works.” 

He chuckled lightly. “Why do you keep them?” He asked, curious. 

“Inspiration to do better?” You guessed, chewing on your lip as you looked around. Slowly, you smiled at him. “I have an idea…” You moved to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I need the help of a certain angel.” You flirted. 

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “And how may I help you?” He asked, voice low. 

Pecking his lips, you grinned. “Strip.” You patted his chest. 

“Strip? As in, remove my clothing?” He asked, wanting to clarify things.You nodded as you slowly pulled away, taking off your tank top. 

Both of you stripped, eyes never leaving each other as you did so. “Now, pick some paint.” You pointed to where there was a bunch of new bottles. “No more than say six. Don’t want it to get muddy.” You moved things out of the way as he looked over his options, wanting them to be perfect. Once there was enough room, you set up as many canvases as you could fit in the area. 

“Are these okay?” He asked, turning with two bottles in each hand- teal, dark blue, emerald green, and a color that reminded you of his eyes. 

“Perfect.” You nodded, excited. “Give me two.” You reached out, getting dark blue and emerald green. “Now shoot streaks all over the place. On these canvases.” You told him. 

“And this will create ‘life art’?” He asked as he opened his two bottles. 

You did the same. “It’s the start.” You explained. “Move around to get some all over.” You told him, not staying put. Once you felt there was enough, you stopped. “That’s good. Can you put these over there?” You handed him your bottles and motioned to the ones that were opened. 

Castiel nodded, taking them. “Of course.” He agreed. “Now...what?” He was curious as you walked across the canvases towards him. 

“Now, you’re going to lay me down on these and we’re going to enjoy each other.” You ran your hand over his chest. “We’re going to make a painting with our bodies.” Kissing him softly, you smiled. 

His hands gripped your hips. “I will not object to that.” He told you, kissing you lovingly as the pair of you moved to lay down. 

Dean was walking by your room when he heard you laughing and paused. He furrowed his brows, moving towards it. “Sis?” He called out before opening the door. “Oh, come on .” He instantly left. 

Walking into the kitchen, your hair was wet and you were wearing your bathrobe. Cas wasn’t that far behind, a smile on his face. He was dressed in his own clothes, but his hair was also wet. “Please erase that image from my mind.” Dean down the last of his beer. 

“Hey, you asked me to create a life painting.” You smirked. 

“I didn’t say ‘make babies in paint’!” He countered, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I want to forget that sight.” He groaned. 

Cas furrowed his brows. “We were not ‘making babies’.” He told Dean. “I have no wish to lose her to childbirth.” 

You giggled as Dean put his head on the table. “I think you’re breaking him.” You told your boyfriend. “Let’s just get my ice cream and go watch a movie.” You said as you got a bowl. “I’m sure it’ll pass, Dean.” You told your older brother. “You’ll be okay.” 

He shook his head, not moving it from the table. “I regret telling you to make ‘life paintings’. Please, stick to your murder work.” He turned his head to look at you. 

“I might. Depends on if these sell.” You shrugged. 

That made him sit up. “Sell?” He asked, curiosity piqued. “What are you talking about? You’ve never mentioned selling your work before.” 

You nodded, finishing getting your ice cream and putting it away. “It was Cas’s idea. Said that my talent should be shared, and it might be a good way for us to make some spare cash.” You turned to lean against the counter, bowl in hand. “So, I’m going to ask Sam to help me figure out how to sell some stuff online.” You explained. 

Dean smiled at that. “See, told you that you have talent.” He said proudly. “You got a ton of work in there you can sell.” 

“Except I requested she keep one of our pieces.” Cas noted. 

“Please never mention your ‘pieces’ again.” Dean said over his shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find something to take my mind off...that.” He moved to the fridge to grab another beer before leaving the two of them alone. 

Running through the bunker when you heard Dean get home from a supply run. “Dean!” You were nearly jumping with excitement. “Guess what?!” You squealed. 

“What?” He laughed, loving seeing you like this. 

“Everything. Sold.” You told him. “In just the time that you were gone.” You gushed. “Cas and Sam and helping me get everything wrapped up. The buyer is in the city.” You explained. “All. One. Buyer.” 

His eyebrows went up. “One?!” He grinned. “That’s amazing. You sure it’s legit?” He didn’t want you getting screwed over. 

You nodded. “He’s sent half the money already.” You told him. “We meet him about dinner time. And, then after, I’d like to take my big brothers out to celebrate.” 

“What about Cas?” He asked. 

“We’re going away for a few days, leaving Friday.” You told him happily. “Going to Greece. Saving on airfare, thankfully.” 

Dean hugged you, happy for you. “You’ll be in a museum one day.” He beamed.

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part | Chapter 4

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story.

This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Pinky Promise

Summary: The group arrived at the CDC and were welcomed by Dr. Jenner, that asked just for blood samples so they could stay there. The group ate better than they have been eating in weeks and also drank a lot. Y/N and Daryl talk about the past while they share a bottle of whiskey and things get just a little bit out of control.

Warnings: swearing, little angsty, fluffy, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (?), a hot kiss 🥵, Minors do not interact. Nothing extremely sexual and detailed, but if disturbs you in any way it’s better not to read. Maybe some characters are ooc, idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 2,877

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. I’m consulting a timeline of everything that happened, but it can happen that I put events out of order, but I don’t think it’ll make much difference in the story. ALSO, I’m very nervous about the path this chapter went so I’d be glad if you told me what you think.

As soon as the door opened everyone entered, but there was no one. Where were the person that opened the damn door? After some minutes a man appeared, gun on his hand and he just lowered when you proved you offered no danger. His condition to give you shelter, was to take blood samples of all of you to examine. A fair price for a scientist, how could you deny?

After you picked everything you needed from the cars, the man named Jenner, closed the metal doors and you followed him to get your blood samples taken. You were not over joyed to get your blood taken, because normally your veins were pretry dificult to be found and people would end up torturing you with a needle until they found your vein.

“You’ll probably find my vein here.” You said pointing to a place one inch from your elbow. Yeah, your vein was easy found in a very strange place. “My veins are difficult to find, that’s why I’m telling you.” ‘And because torture is not my kind of entertainment’, you thought.

“Don’t worry, I’ll only do it when I’m sure I found it.” He tried to make you calm. And he didn’t lied, he really waited till he found it and then he collected your blood without much trouble or pain.

He took everybody’s sample and then took you to the kitchen. A full supplied kitchen with good food, alcohol, water and all the appropriate devices to prepare anything.

“Glenn, did we die and I didn’t notice? Cause this looks a lot like heaven.” You commented with the young man.

“If we did, I didn’t notice it too.” He replied. God! You didn’t think you would miss so much having a kitchen with all the appliances you were used to.

You prepared the food together and the drinks were served. Everybody was so happy, having a good meal, drinking and chatting. There was a long time you didn’t feel such a light atmosphere. You all joked and smiled, maybe the alcohol was helping a little.

“Hmmm, never thought I’d taste such delicious wine again.” You commented next to your brother.

“Go easy on the alcohol sis.” Rick told you, as if he knew how to drink.

“Shut up Rick, you know I can handle alcohol better than you.” You said making him have a good laughter, in no way you were a better drinker than him. “Hey! Let a woman have her dreams.” Everyone joined Rick on his laughter, brightening the room with joy.

Very reluctantly Lori gave Carl permission to taste a little of wine, and he hated, so she was happy. Glenn was getting drunk for the first time and all of you were encouraging him, even Daryl, which was really funny to see him all lose and even smiling, genuinely and openly smiling. Alcohol was a dangerous thing, but it could also show you things you didn’t know about other people, good and bad. You sneaked some appetizers to Luna, which she gladly took.

When dinner was over Jenner showed you around, there was rooms where all of you could stay, and bathrooms with hot shower. Oh my God, you couldn’t even remember the last time you took a hot bath. You claimed one of the rooms and went directly to the bath.

You took your time in the bath, washed your hair, let the hot water fall against your back and relax your muscles. It was so good, it had been only two months and you already missed this little luxuries from the old world so bad. When you finished drying yourself, you brushed your hair and put some comfortable clothes, your sleeping shorts and a tank top. Then, you missed something important, where was Luna?

You left your room and passed looking on the rooms that had the door open. You saw Carol putting Sophia to sleep and you couldn’t help, but smile. They deserved happiness and you were glad they were safe here, as you were glad you family was here too.

“Carol, did you see Luna? I can’t find her.” You asked her from the door.

“No, I just came from the rec room with the kids and didn’t see her. Maybe she’s with Rick or Shane?” She suggested, you didn’t know. You didn’t want her messing around in an unknown place.

“Ok, thanks. Gonna continuing looking for her. Have a good night Sophia! And you too Carol, rest yourself.”

“Have a good night Y/N/N” they replied.

You continued looking in the rooms that you could see open, but she was nowhere. You saw the door of Daryl’s room half opened and decided to knock, maybe he saw her somewhere.

“Come in” you heard he say, and you were not expecting the scene. He all cleaned up, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, his back on the wall, sitting in the sofa and Luna all over him.

“Am I interrupting something?” You asked playfully, Luna looked at you and swinged her tail, but she didn’t move from where she was.

“Not my fault she likes me better.” He took the bottle to his mouth all cocky.

“Seriously, I’m already thinking about giving you her custody. It’s obvious she doesn’t love me anymore.” You dramatized sitting on the sofa right next to him.

As soon as you touched the couch, she came all your way with her cold nose, and she laid on both your laps. “I think she wants to say that she likes us both.” You stated.

“Want some?” He offered you the bottle of alcohol.

“Is this even a question? Just give me the bottle Dixon.” You take the bottle and take it to your lips, whiskey was not exactly your favorite drink, but having the alcohol in your system was too good. Just not having to worry about being sober and ready to fight at any moment.

You stayed a long time in silence, just passing the bottle around and sipping from the drink. Here it was, that comfortable silence that you used to share and right now you could do it without worrying much. You rested your head back on the wall and looked at his profile, he was handsome and also cute, you felt kind of lucky for being able to take a look at this pretty serious grumpy face everyday.

“What did ya do before all this?” He asked and sipped on the bottle.

“You mean before I became a professional Zombie killer?” You joked, a bitter taste in your mouth having to talk about your failed career. “I was a vet. What about you?”

He looked at Luna and nodded like it made a lot of sense since you had Luna, but in fact anyone could have an animal. “I’d go around with whatever shit Merle was up to. In few words, I was a nobody. I had nothing as cool as you had.”

“Don’t say this. You weren’t a nobody. In fact, when it all happened, I was unemployed. So if you were a nobody, I was just like you.” Your head still resting on the wall, your eyes still on his profile and you thought how could he think so low of himself.

“Ya weren’t nobody, princess.” He turned to look at you and you swear that your heart skipped a bit when you looked in his cute baby blue eyes. “Ya just didn’t have a job.”

“So didn’t you.” He didn’t understand why you’d try to cheer him up and tell him he was more than what he actually was. Since he could remember he knew everyone thought that the Dixon’s were no good. Nobody wanted to be around his brother or him, and it didn’t change at the quarry. And why should it change now? He’d always be what he was, but you seemed to look at him with a whole different look than anybody else and you never told he was no good or a piece of shit… you mostly had good things to tell him, even when he was a dick with you.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, D.?” You looked at him and you almost could see all the gears working in his mind. You still looked in his eyes, both of your heads resting in the wall.

“Ya think I’m better than I am.” He also looked in your eyes and tried to see anything that showed you were fucking with him, but he didn’t. You were like Rick, you had honest eyes and couldn’t hide your emotions at all even if you tried. And at the moment you didn’t have any bad emotion in your face.

You wanted to say that he thought too low of himself, that he was better than he thought. You could see it, but it was not like you were good with words, and in the last 24 hours you got him upset more times than you would like, even if he was the asshole in one of them. Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but you couldn’t put yourself to look away from his face, and now your eyes wandered all over his face, from his handsome eyes, to his lips, the small freckles under his eyes and the cute mole above his lips… God! You really wanted to kiss him, and your intoxicated brain could not think straight, if you were sober you’d never have the courage you were feeling at this moment.

He was no different from you, not that he had never spent any time admiring your features, he had done it many times. Your beautiful eyes, your nose, your lips and even your jaw. God, if ever existed one, he had thought more than he would like to admit about running his mouth over your jaw, your lips… kiss, lick and even bite your neck. But before, you were never this close to him and he had never got this drunk with you or near you. He had not felt like this before, like if he didn’t touch someone or were close to someone… he wouldn’t be able to breath. He thought it was pathetic, well that was what Merle would say, because feelings was something only pussies did. The alcohol in his body talked stronger than Merle’s voice in his head, and all he could think was that your faces were a few inches from each other and that he could feel your warm whiskey breath and the smell of your clean hair, and when you crashed your lips against his, he wasn’t able to control anymore.

You pressed your lips against his and you didn’t expect he’d kiss you back, you expected him to push you away and tell you to fuck off. But once your lips were on his, he kissed you back. Your hand went to his face and caressed him, while his hand went to the back of your head pulling you closer and you couldn’t help but feel more invested into the kiss, your lips moving in sync, your tongue caressing his bottom lip and he couldn’t help but open his lips and let you deepen the kiss, take your way, do whatever you wanted to do… He was completely at your mercy and at this moment he wasn’t even ashamed of admiting it, at least for himself. It didn’t take much longer for you to part from the kiss, you needed to breath. You pulled apart slowly, forehead against forehead, heavy breaths and rosy moistured lips. You were so into the kiss that you didn’t even noticed that Luna had gone to the floor, your bodies were much too against each other and one of your legs were on top of his.

When the reality hit, of what had just happened, he pushed himself to the farthest side of the sofa from you. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have done this.” He got up and were about to leave the room, but you were faster holding his hand.

“Daryl, you can’t leave your own room.” You said getting up and trying to look into his eyes as much as it was possible standing up, since your height difference. “If someone have to leave, it must be me.” He didn’t say anything, red cheeks and trying to piece everything that just happened together. “I iniciated it. The fault is on me. Did I kiss bad? Did you not like it?”

“No, it was good. It’s not…”He tried to find his words, but his thoughts overflowed his mind while his brain separated the things he could say and the things he couldn’t. “We’re friends, friends don’t do it.” He had never called you a friend out loud, but this was the perfect time to say it instead of saying how fucked he was and how he didn’t know how to do emotions, he didn’t believe in love or that he could be loved, and how you two getting involved like this would just fuck the whole group.

“Well… when friends get drunk shit happens sometimes. Never happened to me, but… there’s a first time for everything.” You over explained a little, because you were kind of nervous. “It’s all my fault, don’t blame yourself and don’t worry too much. There was a long time I didn’t had a good kiss and you were just too cute... I’m sorry.”

“I did it too, ya don’t need to be sorry.” He averted your gaze, shy, still concerned with everything going on his mind.

“This will not change things between us, right?” You asked and he didn’t answer, still avoiding your eyes. Shit. Shit. Shit. You had probably ruined one of the few good things you had in this shitty world. “Daryl, promise you’ll not avoid me and we’ll still be the same.”

“Ya won’t rest until I promise ya something today, aren’t ya? What is it with ya and promises?” Why were you always asking things from him? At the same time he wanted to tell you to fuck off, he wanted you to be close, at least close enough so he could keep an eye on you.

“I just don’t want things to get odd between us.” You raised your hand in between both of you, all fingers down and just your pinky up. He looked at your hand and could not believe that you were doing it. “Ok, now promise that we’ll still be friends.”

“What are ya? Five?” Who in your age made pinky promises? Why did you have to be so… vivid? “Fine. Let’s make the fucking pinky promise.”

He took your pinky in his and then you sealed it with your thumbs. “Happy?”

“Yes, now I can rest assured that we’re still friends.” You smiled and he rolled his eyes, but deep inside he felt a small warmth and oh, he was so afraid of this, because he had never felt anything like that before and he had no idea of what to do with it. “Have a good night Daryl, and thanks for the drink.”

“Luna, come on girl. Let’s go to sleep.” You called for the german shepherd, she got up from where she was laying, got a lick on Daryl’s hand and waited for him do caress her head, after it she followed behind you to your room.

You closed the door, put your back on it and slided to the floor. You could still feel his lips on yours, his hand at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair and the heat of his body. How could you ever have a normal life after this? It could sound dramatic, but there was so long you weren’t this close to a man… Years actually, you didn’t even get on dates after Paul and he never did you feel this good as just kissing and touching Daryl made you feel. Fuck. Shane was right, you definitely had a crush on him, maybe more than this. And you Y/N Grimes didn’t do ‘more than this’, not anymore. You didn’t even do ‘less than this’.

You got up and decided it was time to go to bed and try to sleep. Luna laid by your side and you snuggled to her. “What should I do Luna?”

“Woof!” She said and gave a lick to your face.

“I already did it Luna, and I don’t know if it was the correct thing to do. I didn’t even know if he liked it.” Anyone would think you were crazy, but talking to Luna from time to time kept your sanity in place. “I’m not you, you know?”

Final Note: Thanks for everyone reading, liking, reblogging and commenting, it’s really good to receive your feedback.

Taglist: @sunnybunnyy2

[oceantornadoo]

protective ex-husband!simon, implied violence/break-in *gender neutral version*

“i know! and that’s when i told her-“ you paused, your hand halfway to the keys at the bottom of your backpack. your apartment door was open, a menacing sliver of darkness awaiting you. “hey, i’m going to have to call you back.” you ended the call with your friend, slowly backing away from your door. shit. you knew you locked the door when you left for work, and no one else had a copy of your key. a creeping sensation came over you, like someone was watching from within. slowly, you retreated, taking the elevator down to your apartment’s lobby as the anxiety crawled through your body. you wracked your brain, wondering if you should call the police. wondering if they would even believe you. there was only one call to make.

“come on, pick up.” you tapped your foot impatiently as your ex husband took forever to answer the phone. it was all you could do to not think about your home being violated, about a potential stalker or date gone wrong.

“‘ello?”

“si- simon, it’s me.”

“i know, love. that’s why i picked up.” you let out a quiet sob of relief at his voice, the bottle on your emotions starting to leak.

“what’s wrong?” his voice changed, immediately hearing your silent tears. he could always read you too well. “i don’t want to bother you but” you hiccupped. shit. “but my apartment door was open and i’m pretty sure i closed it, i usually do. i don’t know if im being silly but now im in the lobby and im just scared, simon.” there was a fumbling sound, the echoes of simon zipping up his jacket and pulling on his shoes.

“go to that cafe across the street, dove. go get yourself one of those overpriced hot chocolates. i’ll be there in 15.”

9 minutes later, your shaking hands were tapping random patterns on the cafe table, unable to raise your drink to your mouth without spilling it. your eyes were locked onto the wood grain, counting lines to distract yourself.

suddenly, a gloved hand covered yours. you looked up and there he was, your ghost in all his glory. you forgot everything for a second, forgot the past arguments and the strained silences, and flung yourself into his arms. you breathed in his comforting scent of pinewood that masked his cigarettes, a cologne you got him four years ago for christmas. your face was wet, and as he pulled you back to check you for injuries, his thumb brushed a stray tear away from your face. you didn’t even realize you were crying.

“‘s okay, baby. i’m here now. give me your keys.” you fumbled for your keys, backpack strap sliding off your shoulder as your hands shook too much to keep it balanced. simon caught it gracefully, finding your keys in the same pocket you always kept them. “stay here. i’ll be back.” you nodded instinctively. only when you saw his figure retreat to your apartment building, clothed in all black like a figure of death, you realized you hadn’t told him your new apartment number.

twenty minutes passed. simon’s presence had worked like medicine as your heart rate has now dropped back down to normal, your hands stable enough to finish your drink. any other person would be worried for simon’s safety, but you knew the only person you should be concerned for was your intruder.

“you’re stayin’ with me tonight.” he was back, looking exactly the same. he wasn’t even winded. “thank you simon, but don’t be ridiculous. i can get a hotel. you live so far from my work anyways.” he approached you, crowding into your space as he leaned over you, even with a cafe table in between. “consider it payment then.” he tilted your chin up with his left hand as he hid his other one, covered with blood, in his pocket. “one way or another, you’re in my bed tonight, dove.” you gulped at that. “and i’ve got riley in the car. you wouldn’t abandon him, would you?” of course he had gotten your cat when he checked out your apartment. riley hated men, but never simon. cheeky bastard.

“you win.”

fast forward a couple of hours and you were getting ready for bed at simon’s, belly full from the meal he had made you. riley made himself at home on the living room couch, of course. “he’s in my spot.” you gestured to your cat on the couch. “wha’ d’ya mean?” your husband simon was now in sweats and sweats only, clean from the shower he had after you both got home back to his place. you pretended not to see him methodically wash blood out of his fingernails, reasoning quite easily with yourself that it was for a good cause.

“my couch for tonight.” simon moved toward you and you avoided his eyes, trying not to stare at how beautiful he still was. muscular but thick, torso adorned with scars you used to trace on sunday mornings when you both stayed in bed until the afternoon. he gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “told’ya you were in my bed tonight, dovie.” you swallowed and he watched your throat move, memories of you swallowing something else countless times rising to the surface.

“don’t be silly, simon. that would cross a line.”

“what line?” his arms were crossed now, drawing your attention to an unfamiliar tattoo right above his heart. a small dove.

“we’re not together anymore, simon.”

“you’re still mine.”

silence. he was always like this, pushing you until you broke. he was unwilling to compromise, even on the smallest of issues. usually you’d fight him, spit fire until you lost your voice. tonight though, you were reminded of how he was the only person you were able to call, the only one committing dark sins without asking, all for your safety. instead, you threw your hands up and walked into his bedroom, mechanically stripping as you put on one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. you felt his eyes on you, burning a hole through the fabric. you were tired, so tired of this push and pull.

“what.” you whipped around, all venom. his eyes were impossibly soft, holding yours with a peaceful caress. “you’re as beautiful as the day i lost you.” your fire went out at that. “you’re just trying to get me naked.” you mumbled, looking down as you fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. you watched as his body came into view, pressing your forehead against his bare skin.

“could see you in a thousand layers and you’d still be the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen, dove.” ever so slowly, your hands crept up his body to grab his shoulders and neck. he picked you up with ease, turning the lights off and tucking you both in bed. “when did you get the tattoo?” you asked in the dark.

“3 months and 12 days ago.” what would have been your 3rd year of marriage, your anniversary. you lowered your head and gave him a kiss right where the tattoo was. “can we talk about it in the morning?” you snuggled into him, that familiar scent calming you once again. “always, dove.” he kissed your forehead, smiling in the dark.

—

someone requested gender neutral so i hope i did you justice! i consider dove, love, lovie, and baby to be gn so i didn’t change them if you were wondering

[bbyquokka]

12:04 am (hhj)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | timestamp, smut – 18+ is strongly advised!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | vampire hyunjin, human reader, established relationship, consumption of blood (hyunjin feeds), vampire bites, cock warming. ( if i missed any, lmk! )

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 1k ~ ( 1,041 )

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 | i've been playing a lot of baldur's gate 3 (can you guess who i'm obsessed with trying to romance 👀) and ig it inspired this lil thing? idk, i wanted to write vampire stuff soooooo

♡ m.list — ♡ you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

his unusually soft hands holding your hips. his sharp nails digging into the skin, threatening to break the skin and make you bleed. his pale white skin looking ethereal in the shimmering moonlight. his white, shoulder length hair that's half up, half down flowing with the gentle and cool breeze.

to a passing stranger, it simply looks like two normal humans making love under the moonlight after a date but oh no–this is much different.

his eyes shut tightly, plump lips parted as he moans your name in between the short, laboured breaths. his teeth all seem normal, human almost, aside from the two sharp fangs that threaten to pierce the skin of your neck at any moment. 

he loves you and you love him but neither of you should succumb to such feelings. humans and unnatural creatures intertwining with one is almost like a curse. but you taste so sweet and sound so sinful to him. your skin heats his cold, pale skin. your blood is so sweet, it's like drinking honey straight from a beehive. 

he rescued you. he found you in the woods one night whilst on a hunt. he smelt your blood from a mile off and rushed to the scene, hoping to feast. he didn't expect to stumble across your passed out body, bruises and cuts decorating your skin. 

you were running from something; but what exactly? a bear? a hungry wolf perhaps, either way hyunjin saved the questions for later–he had more pressing matters to worry about.

he smelt your blood but so did the other vampires in the vicinity. he doesn't know why but he scooped you up and carried you to his lair. he cared for you, nursed you back to health. when you awoke, understandably you were terrified to be face to face with a vampire.

but hyunjin felt different. he showed compassion which most vampires don't. majority of them look at humans and think ‘food!’ but hyunjin. he held no matter how tough it got for him. he let you stay with him until you had enough strength to fend for yourself but you both grew very close to one another and the thoughts hyunjin was having of feasting on you, shackled him with guilt.

he feasted on deer's, wolves and bears but his insatiable hunger burnt. it clawed its way at him, desperate to be fed what he wants the most and that's you. he's smelt your blood, he cared for you and knows what it looks like and, to him, it looks so delicious.

one day, you offered him your wrist. he's been feasting on nothing but animals for weeks, he's not getting what he needs. the hunger, the thirst; it burns. you found him on his knees in his bedroom in a cold sweat, panting. you didn't recognise him and it scared you.

his fangs on full display. hair sticking to his skin and his red eyes blown out, captivating you and shackling your feet to the floor with fear. he came crashing onto you as soon as you gave him the ok to feast on your wrist. the first time hurt and you were left weak and dizzy for days but the more you allowed him to feast on you, the more you got used to it.

“look at me.” you whisper as you cup his cheeks. his eyes slowly flutter open revealing those blood red pupils you love. “so beautiful.”

“says you. you look gorgeous underneath the moonlight. your skin is so pretty. i'm two thousand years old and i've never felt more alive.”

“s-sh.” you mumble before moaning as he thrusts into you from below. he sits up and wraps his arms around your back, holding you close to his pale chest. his body is decorated in deep scars and old battle wounds. two distinct circle scars on his own neck indicating that he once was human.

“yn, i'm hungry.” he whispers as he eyes the flesh of your neck. he can feel and hear the blood pumping through your veins. he wants it. he wants a taste.

“do you want my wrist, hyun?” 

“no. i want more.” you swallow and look at him. puppy dog eyes, those eyes you can't resist. he sticks his bottom lip out in a pout and whines softly. “please?”

“you know i can't say no when you look at me like that.” you mumble. hyunjin grins, his fangs showing. he stills his hips, allowing your warmth to pleasure him. 

you tilt your head to the side, extending your neck as hyunjin holds onto the other with his hand. his cold yet oddly hot palm setting your own skin on fire. he brushes his lips against your flesh as he inhales your sickly sweet scent that he's been addicted to since day one.

he grazes his teeth along the skin. you hold your breath as his fangs scratch the surface. he gives your neck a soft and gentle kiss before his fangs penetrate the skin.

you whimper in pain. the stinging sensation tingling up your spine and to your fingertips. the air being knocked out off your lungs as you gasp. you grip onto hyunjin as you squeeze your eyes shut. hyunjin's penis twitches inside of you as he drinks your sweet nectar. every pool of blood coats his tongue in a sweet and savoury taste making him want more.

he's addicted and it's dangerous. he could easily drink you dry. with each passing second, you feel your blood leaving your veins. your head dizzy and lightheaded, eyes fluttering shut slowly as all your strength depletes from you.

hyunjin drinks and he drinks some more. his penis twitching and orgasm threatening to hit him. he groans, his grip on you tightening. more is all he thinks about. more more more more!!!

“h-hyun jin…” you choke out. he snaps out of it, pulling from your neck quickly. he cups your cheeks gently, blood coating his lips and the tips of his fangs.

“yn?! oh fuck! yn, are you ok?!”

“fine. i'm fine.” you say with a weak chuckle. hyunjin chews his lips, watching as you reach up and wipe away the blood from his lips.

“vampires are so messy.”

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 (𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍) | @bintificreads ; @oshimee ; @septicrebel ; @alyszaen ; @writerracha ; @hyunluvxo ; @aestheticsluut ; @xcookiemonsteer ; @lilquokka04

[frogchiro]

If you don't mind then i'll keep bugging!♥️

I just thought of a sexy ermites harem who just wanna raise you ksksksks 🫣🤤... Hoyo are si naughty giving us sexy ermites liké freak :(

I'll leave you alone for tonight or this day my Friend ♥️👉🏻👈🏻

SEXY EREMITES HAREM LETS GOOOO

thank you for the delicious thoughts i've been thinking about this ever since you send this, thank you darling <333

fem!reader, smut, a bit of breeding kink, implied poly relationship between reader and the eremites, kinda yandere eremites leader, reader is explicitly said to be soft/curvy/chubby <3

okay but i had a lil naughty thought lately....so from what i gathered eremites are like wandering tribes right? and every tribe needs a leader...imagine that you're one of them, a sweet little fluffy thing that's not build for battle, no, you're far too precious for that and none of the big strong men of the clan would let you get your soft hands dirty with blood, it's their job to protect you <3

imagine that you're a healer/cook of your group, all sweet smiles, gentle hands and soft curves that your fellow eremites love to grab onto and have it warm them during the cold desert nights.

and yet the leader of your tribe (i'm imagining the sunfrost or day thunder model or even jebrael) taking a special interest in you. ofc he knew you very well before, it was your amazing hands that healed him and nursed him back to health when he was heavily wounded after a particulary intense battle. he watched as his men took turn with you almost every night in the main tent where everyone was sleeping or resting when the clan was resting for the time being. he watched them worship your body, kiss, lick and suck every single inch until you were screaming with delight, your soft noises the sweetest music to their ears and when they finished washing you with a cloth they took turns in massaging your soft body and murmuring soft thank you's for you being with them and letting all these brutish men love you.

he, as the leader always got the very first turn with you, in fact it was him who took your virginity; after his turn he made himself comfortable against the mounds of pillows and silks as he sipped his drink from a shallow cup as he watched the magnificent spectacle before him.

and yet his mind couldn't help but stray, jealousy taking over him momentary as he watched your puffy pussy get stuffed full with yet another load, a rumbling growl escaping his lips when the triumphant roar of pleasure left the man who was currently cumming inside your precious hole and he watched as the very same man lovingly caressed your soft lower tummy and whispered something to you that made the other men jeer and laugh boisterously and made you try and hide your face behind your hands.

he should be the one to breed you, he should be the one to sire your first child; a nice healthy and strong son or daughter. but he would get his chance don't you worry, especially after he takes you as his little bride and he'll get to breed you and own you to his heart's content, his sweet wife <3

[fandomnerd9602]

Wolf Spider pt. 2 (set during Scream VI)

Sam Carpenter x Spider Man!Reader

For @deafeningsharkslimeempath

Halloween time had come at last. And yet all was not calm for the Carpenter sisters and you, their friendly neighborhood Wolf Spider. The city was filled with masks and people in costumes. You knew all too well that anyone could wear a Ghostface mask, slash, and blend back into the crowd.

Trouble arrived the night before All Hallow's Eve. A murder of a film school student and his roommate. You snuck into the crime scene, Detective Bailey greeting you politely.

"Normally I wouldn't work with vigilantes" He intones.

"Well we're not under normal circumstances." you answer back. "knife?"

"Matches the slashes we found on that film studies teacher" Bailey answers back. His face goes ghostly pale.

"Ghostface"

"We don't know that yet!"

"Need more proof?" you head to the nearby ledge and swing out into the open air. You knew what it meant for your beloved girlfriend Sam and her sister Tara.

Your ear bud rings with the sound of your cell phone. A glance down to your phone reveals the caller id of Sam herself. Speak of the succubus herself.

"Hey honey" you answer the call. "How was your day?"

"My therapist was a total dick" she huffs.

You keep up the conversation while webswinging through the New York skyline, "Sweetheart, if i know a thing or two about blood, it's that you define you."

"But what about that incident with Richie?"

"I know several heroes who kill bad guys, it's only if you went after some innocent person that I'd get worried"

"Are you swinging?"

"M-Maybe"

"What have I told you about texting while swinging?"

"Well I'm not texting-" WHOOSH! A semi zooms right past you as you course correct your swing. "and that's why I love you so much, Sammie"

"Can you check on Tara for me?"

"Send me the party coordinates" you sigh as you swing toward NYU.

You found Tara drunk and being flirted with an obvious predator.

"Hey the lady and I were heading upstairs" the drunk college student continued pulling on Tara's arm. "Nice costume by the way"

"Sorry pal, you're heading downstairs" you sock the drunk predator straight in the jaw, knocking him clean out.

"I can handle myself, Y/N!" Tara intones before storming out of the party. "You're as bad as Sam sometimes!"

You quickly give chase. And so does Chad and Ethan. You charge after Tara and scoop her up before swinging off into the night.

"Where'd they go, dude?" Ethan asks your confused friend Chad.

"Put me down!" Tara drunkenly orders you.

"Well if you insist" you drop her from the height of your swing. Tara screams on the way down before you swing and scoop her up again.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Drinking's bad for your health and your grades, Carpenter" you offer a smirking smile under your mask. You come and set her down on top of the apartment's roof.

"Why can't you or Sam just allow me to make my own decisions?" Tara huffs.

"When you can start making the right ones." you huff back. "I don't mean to scare you but I can't let you wander the streets alone anymore."

"Why not?"

"Three murders recently." you remove your mask, "I think it might be-"

"Ghostface." Tara immediately sobers up before hugging you tight. "Thank you"

"You're like a sis to me, kid, I won't let anyone hurt you"

"What are we gonna tell Sam?"

"I don't know" you sigh, "could you tell her? I'm still on the hook for the whole texting and swinging incident"

Ghostface was loose in the Big Apple. You already knew who the targets were. Luckily, they had a Wolf Spider to back them up.

To Be Continued...