#i'm LOSING my fucking MIND i can't BELIEVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[pockypuck]

"No--you--what have you done?!" they gasp, clutching the table like a lifeline.

I shake my head a little, wiping my mouth of the last few drops and giving an incredulous grimace. "A celestial shot, from the taste of it." Ooh, tingly.

"You mixed them," they say, anguished enough to state the obvious.

I raise my eyebrows, flexing my fingers a little as the capillaries start to throb with my quickening pulse. "Of course I did. You offered me both, and then added a false dichotomy."

"False--what?"

"False dichotomy. Presenting two options as the only choices when there are others available."

"I know what a--do--do you have any idea what you've begun?!" They’re sweating quite profusely for an extraplanar being, the collar of their shirt losing its starch and their silvery hair dampening against their brow.

I shrug. "Something interesting, from your reaction. I expect I'll find out shortly." Oh yeah, very shortly. I can already feel my eyes starting to water and sharpen at the same time. "At least I won't die, though."

"Y--" They go even paler, somehow, staring at me with wide eyes and such distress that the air around them is vibrating. I grin at them with lots of teeth.

"Yeah, figured on that. Celestial essence doesn't mix with human life too well, does it? Too rigidly aligned, one way or another. Most people's systems can't handle it. They run hot for a few months, get all those cool powers, then burn out like an overclocked CPU. Nice try, though." I lick my lips, trying to identify the flavor left behind. Sea salt and chocolate from the mocha, I figure, and something that I can only describe as spite. What I get for mixing it in a Starbucks cup, I guess.

They're still stuttering, eyes now tracing along the outline of my shoulders as if watching for weapons. "But--how did--?"

"How did I know to mix them?" It's not a guess. I'm starting to feel the questions on my skin before they ask them. "Simple. They're the same thing."

Their face twists in revulsion. Heh, they didn't like that.

"Mostly," I amend. "Demons are just angels with defiance mixed in, after all. The base is the same. But mixing god-ordained defiance--" they twitch hard "--with absolute obedience was either going to explode immediately or cancel each other out." I sit back and cross my arms, feeling the proteins in my muscles start to fold and twist into energy the likes of which the world hadn’t seen in millennia. "So I tested it."

"This is--you can't," they rasp, but not as if they believe it. No, it sounds as though their belief is very fragile right now. "You can't be."

"I mean, it turns out that I very much can." I spread my arms, my fingers. It takes very little effort to add a few, subtract them, change them to claws, wrap air and fire and time around them. I keep it short; there are people in this cafe, even if they can't notice us right now. "And really, I should thank you. If you hadn't given me both at once, I couldn't have pulled it off. So this," I gesture to all of me, the shifting skin and brightening eyes and power beginning to radiate in waves, "is all your fault."

They inhale with a shudder, and then their eyes narrow. "Then you are my--my responsibility, and I will--"

"I don't think so," I say sharply, my hand clenching. The energy gathering at their fingertips cuts off as if it's never been. They're pallid again. "See, you might be able to hop planes all you want, but this is my home. Some fancy potion can't change that. God can't change that, if He even wants to. And now you're in my home, and you're no longer the biggest thing here." I stand up, and they're not visible but I can feel them at my back, long feathered wings with bones like steel and little clawed tips flexing and shivering with barely-contained power. "So you can get the fuck out of my home with your mind games and your holy war. And if you come back--if any of you come back--I will know, and I will make you regret it."

It's so easy. I reach for their pale, panicked face, and they're gone. Not sure where, but it's not like I care about the details right now.

I sigh, look around, and settle my power back beneath my skin with effort. The people around me continue to get their coffee and croissants without any indication that something extraordinary has happened.

That's good. Nephilim don't have the best reputations. I can change that, though. I can make our home a better place, and Heaven and Hell had better watch their step.

"In the first vial there is a pure demonic essence, and in the second there is pure angelic essence-" Without letting them finish, you mix both vials and drink the mixture.

[xxelliewxx]

Fire and Frost {Ellie x Reader} Ch. 2

Pairings: loser!(AFAB)Reader x hockey player!Ellie

Synopsis: When y/n is requested to tutor Ellie Williams in organic chemistry, she expects arrogance and attitude from the hockey player. However, she discovers a different aspect of Ellie’s tough exterior, revealed through humor and fleeting glances. This raises the question: why does Ellie go to great lengths to embarrass and harass y/n whenever they are in the presence of others?

Warnings: Mentions of depression, anxiety, sexual/physical assault, alcohol, violence, trauma (if I miss any let me know!)

w/c: 2.4k

an: this is my first time ever posting fanfic on Tumblr, so feedback is completely welcome! this is not proofread and is a work in progress.

Ch 1: Iron Bonds

Carbon Memory

The Chemistry Club frequently served as your refuge where you could momentarily escape your past and current traumas. Serving as the President of the club was something you took pride in, using your position to inspire a deeper love and understanding of such a complex topic. You excelled in event planning, frequently jotting down ideas on your iPad for potential projects to showcase throughout the campus, aimed at attracting new members to the club. With only 15 members to represent, the chemistry club lacked funding to continue its meetings.

Dr. M was confident that you would discover a means to secure additional funding to maintain operations, and her trust in your capabilities rendered failure an impossibility. This is why you found yourself scribbling idea after idea, hoping to promote them at tonight's meeting. Dina, your friend since Freshman year, hovered over your shoulder, providing unwanted commentary, and scoffing at some of your ideas.

"Wow, Y/N, I always knew you were a bit of a nerd, but I didn't realize it was to this level! A scavenger hunt based on the periodic table? Seriously?"

You let out an exasperated sigh at your friend, quickly grabbing your iPad from her grasp and shielding your work, desperate to put an end to the relentless chatter. "Just leave me alone, D. If you're not going to offer the support and ideas you promised, you might as well spend time with Jesse, which is clearly what you prefer."

Dina swatted your arm playfully before taking the seat next to you, glancing at the iPad once more. "Fine, Y/N, I'm just messing with you. Sheesh, what has your panties in a wad?"

You shot her a fierce look, placing the apple pencil aside with a thud. "Dina, I am really not up for this right now. Especially now that I will be losing my mornings to that insufferable Ellie. I can't believe Dr. M would do me dirty like that." You threw your hands up in frustration.

Dina's eyebrows arched high, nearly disappearing into her hair as she exclaimed, "She what?! Seriously, Ellie didn't say a word about this during morning skate yesterday. She always jumps at the opportunity to shit-talk you."

Your jaw dropped at her remark, "Fuck you, Dina." You smacked her shoulder, defensively, fully aware she was just trying to get a rise out of you. Yet, deep down, you knew there was a grain of truth in her jabs. It was no secret that the captain had a strong dislike for you, a mystery you had long since stopped trying to unravel.

Dina giggled, munching on some Twizzlers she produced from her backpack, using it to point at your face. "You know, sometimes I wonder if she just actually want's to fuck you. I mean, seriously, she brings you up far too often. Anytime she brings you up, Coach makes her do suicides in full gear."

You felt a warm flush creep up your cheeks at your friend's teasing remarks, a whirlwind of images flashing through your mind that you desperately tried to banish. "Oh, come on, D, I just want this semester to end. I seriously doubt she'll be in any of my classes again, she's barely passing this one."

The thought of never seeing the auburn haired girl again stirred a whirlwind of feelings within, with relief rising to the forefront. You could daydream. Huffing, you glanced at your watch seeing it was quarter to 8, your nose wrinkled. "Speaking of, I have to go meet Williams in the library in a few. Please text me some of your ideas, I really need your help."

Shoving your iPad into your backpack, you quickly grabbed the Twizzler from Dina's grasp, savoring the sweet, chewy treat. Dina shot you a fierce look, saying, "You're lucky you're my best friend. Have fun on your date." Her eyebrows danced playfully, hinting suggestively.

"Fuck you," You muttered under your breath, slinging your backpack over your shoulder as you left the dining hall. Each step toward the library felt heavy, a sense of dread creeping in with every footfall. This was far from the semester you had envisioned; you were determined to steer clear of the girl as best as you could.

As you checked the time on your watch, a wave of panic washed over you; you were already late for your first tutoring session, and you could already imagine the endless teasing that awaited you. With a swift motion, you pushed open the heavy oak doors and swept your gaze across the study hall. There she was, lounging in the far corner, her feet casually resting on the table as if she owned the place. You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you approached her, noticing her engrossed in scribbling doodles in her notebook.

"You sure know how to keep a girl waiting, don't you, geek?" Ellie kept her gaze fixed on her notebook, playfully teasing without even glancing your way. The nickname that was supposed to be sweet ignited a fire of anger within you, as it was evident that it was being wielded as a tool for mockery rather than affection.

Shoving her feet off the table, you brushed aside her piercing gaze, which was locked onto you with an intimidating animosity, as you began to arrange your study materials. "Not everyone can lounge around looking cool all day while Mommy and Daddy pay for everything, many of us are tied down with responsibilities and jobs."

As you dug into the depths of your backpack to retrieve your textbook, a heavily tattooed hand suddenly crashed down onto its cover, making you flinch in surprise. "Do not speak about me as if you fucking know me. Mention my parents one more time and I will fucking end you."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you struggled to keep your gaze locked with the hockey player. After enduring months of torment, you had resolved long ago to hold your ground with her, and today was no exception. "You need me just as much as I need you so I suggest you get used to the idea of me."

Her hand rested on your textbook, veins pulsing with fury as it shook before she clenched it into a tight fist. "I have no desire to see you as anything other than the loser geek who assisted me in keeping my grades up. To me, that's all you will ever be—nothing beyond that."

You fumed, "I don't know what world you're living in where I have any intention of getting to know you, don't flatter yourself. You see, Ellie, this is your problem is that you have such an inflated ego, thinking that everyone and everything exists just to cater to you."

She leaned back in her chair, arms folded tightly, her fingers twitching as if battling the urge to punch you. With her teeth clenched, Ellie shot back, "Like you said, you need me just as much as I need you. So let's get this over with."

You flipped open your textbook, deliberately avoiding her piercing gaze, silently wishing for this session to pass in a blur. "What are you having trouble with in this class? It's been pretty straightforward until now."

Ellie exhaled loudly, reaching for your wrist that was currently flipping through the pages. "Seriously, dork, if you want this to be as painless as possible you'll cease to insult my intelligence. I get the fundamental ideas; I'm not a fucking moron. I bombed the last test because I struggle with equations, and those organic reactions totally tanked my score."

Throwing your hand out of her grasp, Ellie pulled out her notebook you had been admiring the other day, finding the doodles to be adorable. Adorning the tattered cover were whimsical illustrations inspired by the cosmos and clever wordplay. One particular pun caught your eye: an otter, fishing pole in hand, pulling in a fish with the playful phrase, "I'm Otterly Hooked." You couldn't help but giggle, stifling the sound with your hand.

Ellie quirked an eyebrow, the one with the slit in it that you found oddly appealing, her expression a mix of curiosity and confusion over the cause of your sudden outburst. "Is there something I am missing? What's so funny about me completely wrecking my GPA?"

You could feel her irritation rising as you hurriedly clarified your reasoning to diffuse the escalating tension. "Sorry, but I can't help it—your notebook is adorable! I really enjoy a twist on words."

The hockey player's shoulders visibly eased, the weight of her tension lifting with your confession. She massaged the back of her neck and said, "Yeah, me too," before clearing her throat. Turning her attention back to her test, she focused intently on the red marks scattered across her paper.

An unexpected ease settled in, almost like you guys finding a shared interest on such a mundane subject broke the ice just a little bit.  A grin spread across your face when you noticed the same spark of amusement in the girl with forest-green eyes. Inspiration struck as you hastily pulled out your iPad. The other girl raised an eyebrow at your actions, clearly curious about your next move.

Sticking your tongue out you scribbled out your own version of word-play, exhilaration surging through you. A soft giggle escaped your lips as you added the final details to your artwork, then, with a mix of excitement and nervousness, you placed the device down, eager for Ellie to admire your masterpiece. Leaning herself forward, Ellie chuckled. On your iPad was a shark giving a thumbs-up, bubbles spelling out "Fintastic".

"As much as I love punny jokes, I really need to get some studying done before morning practice," she sighed. "Coach is already breathing down my neck about how I'm 'not demonstrating leadership qualities with my poor grades,'" she said, deepening her voice to mimic her coach, complete with exaggerated air quotes.

You found yourself instinctively extending your arm across the table, taking her hand in yours, a wave of sympathy washing over you. "Even if you stumble on a few tests, it doesn't define your ability to lead. I can see, despite our differences, that you genuinely care for the people around you."

Ellie stopped breathing as she looked down at your hand, as fragrant tendrils of lavender rose to her nose in powerful bursts. You purchased a vial of lavender oil the very night following your encounter, discovering a deep sense of comfort in its soothing aroma. Ellie shook her head vigorously, pulling her hand away from yours with a huff. "Stop pretending you know me, you dork," she muttered, irritation lacing her words.

You couldn't help the hurt that flooded your chest at her actions, making it feel like for every stride you made, you were being pulled two steps back into the shadows. "Whatever, Ellie. Just give me your test packet, I can draw up some practice equations."

Taking the paper from her grasp, you found yourself pleasantly surprised by her handwriting, which you had anticipated to be a jumbled mess. Instead, it was surprisingly tidy and even quite lovely. As you scanned through her incorrect answers, the source of her errors started to become clear. She was neglecting the solvent reactions, a detail that could be easily adjusted.

You looked up at Ellie, noticing her fingers gently gliding over the tattoo on her forearm, which peeked out from under her hockey sweatshirt. The name "Ellie Williams" was elegantly inscribed in flowing cursive across her right chest, accompanied by the school mascot nestled beneath it, her muscles subtly flexing beneath the fabric. Ellie sensed the weight of gazes upon her and locked eyes with you, her expression devoid of any feeling, as if she possessed the power to erase all traces of emotion, making you shiver.

Clearing your throat, embarrassed at being caught staring you asked, "Ellie, do you remember SN1 vs. SN2 or E1 vs. E2?"

Ellie's brows knitted together in confusion as she shook her head. "No, I don't. Was that part of the test?" As she reached for her paper, her finger brushed against yours while she held onto the packet. She appeared completely unfazed by the contact, but you felt a rush of emotions from that fleeting touch, struggling to suppress the stir of feelings it ignited within you.

Ellie's confusion morphed into frustration as she flung the paper onto the table between you two, her arms crossing defiantly, a familiar gesture of hers. "When the fuck did we learn this? I feel like I would have remembered that shit."

Reflecting on the time when the hockey player was missing from the lecture hall, you pinpointed the date when this chapter was covered. "We went over this two weeks ago, right at the end of September. But you weren't around," you said softly, the last part slipping out almost shyly, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with how closely you had noticed her attendance. She had been absent for a whole week, and even her friends were left in the dark about the reasons for her disappearance.

You had failed to be discreet as she instantly caught on to your observation. "How do you remember when I was or wasn't in class," Ellie asked, her tone surprisingly warm rather than angry, as if she appreciated your attention. The flicker of warmth quickly vanished as she shook her head. "Whatever, it's not a big deal, I will just talk with Dr. M and this whole arrangement can be finished."

Ellie didn't pause for your response; she sprang to her feet, shoving her books and notes into her backpack with a sense of urgency. In a whirlwind of emotion, she dashed out of the library, leaving you in a state of turmoil. The air around you felt heavy with silence as you sat there, rooted to your chair, struggling to muster the strength to move. Confusion swirled in your mind, and it wasn't until you finally resolved to gather your belongings that you began to erase any trace of your encounter, clearing the table as if to wipe away the memory of her presence.

As you reached for your iPad to lock the screen, your gaze was caught by a whimsical illustration beside your shark. There, next to the fierce creature, was a cheerful seal donning a festive party hat, joyfully proclaiming "Sealebration." The image stirred a wave of melancholy within you, a reminder of the frustration you felt over her unwillingness to engage with you civilly, despite the undeniable connection that seemed to linger between you.

A message pinged, shattering your focus on the scene before you. You grabbed your phone, heart racing with the hope that it was from a particular athlete. Your enthusiasm fizzled out the moment you saw Dina's name flashing on your notifications.

Dina: How about a Periodic Table Fashion Show! We could call it "Atomic Fashion" or "Noble Gas Glam"

For once, you didn't find amusement in a pun.

[cyclogenesis]

oh my god. oh my fucking god. everyone on this show is a lesbian. oh my goD

[clownprince]

HELLO??? ARE YOU FFUCKING KIDDING ME...

[piratebay]

resisting every urge to just chop my hair off right the fuck now.

[terryfuckingturniptruck]

Men stop commenting on my food challenge.

[aurosoul]

I had a dream that I got my Magic Leap headset and then took it to a forest to create magical crystals and rainbows in the streams there and then I took it to the beach to decorate the sand with glowing shells and stars!!!!!!! and then woke up to realize I’ll soon be able to do these things FOR REAL!!!!!!!

[stormieislurking]

Oh come on

[drop--pop--candy]

why why why why why why is any of this happening to me what did i do wrong why why why why why who let this happen if there is a god surely he is a cruel one for letting my mother have children in the first place why hasn't anyone noticed why didn't anyone stop her why why why why why why why why why why why whyhwywhyehyehywhywhyhywhywhywhywht

[dip-lou-in-honey]

.

[strikersin]

Dreams. Dreams. DREAMS!

The one where I'm watching a movie at Luther's house and she is dressed in almost Russian attire - Fancy, cold, and so beautiful. And we're in bed and I'm explaining my excitement over the Pathologic movie and later we have to deal with zombies but whatever.

And I'm playing with children's toys there. Everyone is so young.

Real life when we were read The Last Unicorn or something, something, at the cafeteria table. The book where the protagonist is taught how to keep her thoughts locked up tight like a box.

Ugh.

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

omg YEAH Buck (from the🚨🚨🚨 weewoo firefighter show) is bi!!!!!! We as a fandom kinda called it happening but in a like….. joking way??? Like no way they’d actually do that but !!!!!!!! HERE WE ARE lmao

I remember seeing all the gifs from the end of s4 on my dash and being like huh… gay firefighters fr?? And then getting into the show and realising oh… nvm lmao but god. GOD they actually did it!!! (halfway lol but like 👀 it could actually for real happen now 👀 )

Destiel wishes it had what you guys do 💀

[x-for-a-y]

god kebian should've won lr4m2. imagine if toby lost twice in a row. imagine if kebian's only loss was to alphagenos. imagine if- okay well losers' finals was going to be both contestants that lost to ag no matter what. i don't think they could've beat dubduo but just imagine

[juli-mari]

OH MY GOD

ix. deer dolly

see all chapters here apologies for the delay! this SHORT chapter is all about the long-awaited reunion, filled with steamy scenes. no plot points, just pure passion. if this portrayal isn't your cup of tea, feel free to skip to the next chapter: to be posted in a few days. tags: fem! reader, alastor being demisexual/demiromantic, allusions to marital activities, steamy bordering smut, mention of blood and injury, religious symbolism, love as a fucked up obsession

As you shut your eyes, the world around you dissolves into swirling shadows. The darkness envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of weightlessness. Pressed against Alastor, you bury your face into his suit, your cheek brushing against the smooth silk of his tie. The decrepit, torn building fades away, replaced by the crisp, clean ambiance of a hotel room. The air feels fresher, devoid of the musty odors that had clung to your senses before. Light streams in through the windows, casting delicate patterns on the walls that dance and sway with ethereal grace.

"Cher."

Rough lips press tenderly against the side of your temple and a heave escapes your chest, tears tracing silent paths down your cheeks, their presence unnoticed until they meet the fabric beneath your eyes, staining Alastors suit. The noise of your own blood rushing in your ears drowns out all other sounds, leaving you isolated in a world of agony.

Suddenly, the pain in your ankle resurges with a vicious intensity, sending waves of agony coursing through your body. A whimper escapes your lips, barely audible amidst the overwhelming sensation. It feels as though your very being is folding in on itself, ribs straining against flesh, breath catching in your throat. With the adrenaline long gone, every ache and throb becomes magnified, threatening to consume you whole.

"Al, it hurts," you manage to utter, your voice strained with anguish.

Alastor remains silent, his dilated, frenzied eyes locked onto your shaking form. His hand reaches up, lingering where your throat meets your jaw, the sharp points of his claws pressing down with a calculated pressure. You feel a sharp nip, and a bead of blood begins to seep from the small wound, a crimson offering that seems to stir something primal within him.

His mouth waters, and he swallows audibly, his gaze fixated on the trickle of blood.

"Sweet girl," he murmurs softly, the words a stark contrast to the hunger in his eyes. His thumb moves to gently swipe away the tears that streak down your cheeks, his touch oddly tender despite the predatory gleam in his gaze.

Leaning down, Alastor presses a tender kiss against the small wound, his lips a soothing balm against the raw edges of your suffering. A rush of conflicting emotions floods through you—pain, longing, and a desperate craving for his touch. With a soft sniffle, you raise a trembling hand to press against the back of his head, your fingers threading through his hair.

Alastor responds to your desperate craving, his hands flying to your hips as he lifts you effortlessly and lays you down onto a nearby chair. One of his shadows encircles your ankle, causing you to tense instinctively. However, instead of pain, you feel a cool sensation spreading through your skin, soothing the ache and tension. With a sigh of relief, you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to relax into the chair.

All the while, Alastor's gaze pierces through you, his eyes dark with desire and desperation.

You're right in front of him, vulnerable and exposed, a temptation too potent to resist. The taste of your blood still lingers on his tongue and he longs to sink his teeth into your soft flesh, to taste the sweetness of your essence as he consumes you with a fervor bordering on madness, leaving marks that brand you as his and his alone. Every fiber of his being yearns to ravage and possess you, to consume you in a frenzy of passion.

But he understands that to yield to his desires would mean risking further harm to you, and he cannot bear the thought of causing you any more pain.

And so, with a tortured soul and a heavy heart, he fights against the primal instincts that surge within him, denying himself the one thing he craves above all else.

As the minutes pass and the pain begins to dissipate, you find yourself panting softly, your chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Exhaustion and relief wash over you in waves, mingling with the lingering ache that still echoes through your body.

Gazing up at Alastor, you smile, your hands instinctively moving to rest on his lower abdomen, seeking the reassuring warmth of his touch in the dimly lit room.

A silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

Alastor's hands remain clenched at his sides, the strain evident in the way his claws dig into his palms, threatening to break through the surface of his flesh. The protection of his gloves is the only barrier preventing the sharp tips from drawing blood.

His intense gaze, like twin flames burning in the shadows, enveloped you in their fiery embrace. Crimson eyes, almost glowing with intensity, held you captive, trapping you in a cage of his unspoken desires.

With each passing moment, it became increasingly apparent that he was relinquishing control, leaving you with the reins in your hands and him at your mercy.

Straightening yourself, you let your nails graze over his abdomen before landing on his beating chest. The rhythmic pulse beneath your touch erratic. Finally, after what feels like an eternity to Alastor, you break the stifling stillness with a voice barely above a whisper. "On your knees."

Alastor's gaze darkens, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes as he pauses for a moment, as if considering your request. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, your husband obeys, sinking to his knees before you.

Wasting no time, you seize him by the collar, pulling him close as your lips collide in a fevered kiss. The red lipstick you wear leaves its mark on his mouth, staining and smearing across his lips, cheek, and jaw. A low growl escapes him as he tugs off the jacket to his suit before his claws are grazing down your legs, leaving a trail of destruction as the fabric of your stockings tears with an audible rip.

With a breathless whimper, his name rolls off your lips, and Alastor freezes in place. It's as if something inside him shatters, a floodgate bursting open to release the pent-up longing and passion that he's kept restrained for so long.

Suddenly, his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer as he responds to the urgency of your kiss with equal fervor. With a low, primal grunt, your husband pushes against you. Every brush of his lips against yours, every press of his body against yours, speaking of a hunger that can no longer be contained. It's a hunger born of years of yearning and longing, a hunger that demands to be sated here and now.

Both of you lean back, lost in the intoxicating frenzy of desire. The chair beneath you groans and creaks ominously under the strain before finally giving way with a loud snap.

You yelp in surprise as the ground rushes up to meet you, but before you can hit the hard floor, Alastor's arms wrap around you protectively, catching you in a tight embrace. With a swift motion, he pulls you up into his embrace, effortlessly supporting your weight as he holds you close.

With deliberate steps, Alastor guides you to the edge of the bed before gently lowering you onto its soft surface. You land with a huff and a thud, the mattress embracing you like a comforting embrace.

As you settle onto the plush bedding, Alastor follows suit, hovering above you with his arms caging your head. Leaning down, he presses a trail of kisses down the valley of your breasts, each touch igniting a fire within you.

The straps of your white silk dress are tugged down, revealing the curve of your chest as you melt into the softness of the mattress. Your body instinctively arches towards his touch, every nerve alive with anticipation. As his hands explore the contours of your body, your mind succumbs to a blissful haze, thoughts dissolving into a fog of desire and need.

"Al..."

Alastor continued his ministrations, each kiss a fervent prayer offered up to the goddess beneath him. A reunion long overdue, it felt akin to a sacred ritual. With each tender touch of his lips, he sought to worship you in the most unholy of ways, offering himself up as a devoted supplicant at the altar of your desires.

[praetorqueenreyna]

ZOEY/WILL HAPPENING????? IN CANON????? BEFORE MY VERY EYES??????

[stinkbeck]

bro i'm so happily sick of people lol. like yeah ok. guess u can get into my head + see all the little beautiful painful nuances of my history which i never told a single soul. keep telling me why i have no mastery over my life while u r the expert <3