#it is true life in the flesh and blood can be so good but there are people here also that i love and cherish and i cherish that i can

[eunsuri]

Some theory/thoughts on Solas, Mythal and the ancient Elves

I’ve been fully spiralling deep into my thoughts after seeing Solas’ memories and regrets, so I wanted to put these thoughts into words and share my theories on Solas, his relationship with Mythal, and Lavellan. I’m going to split this into 2 parts due to the length! There will be spoilers, so please avoid if you haven’t finished the game! Mild trigger warning for abuse in relationships.

I believe that Solas definitely loved Mythal, but it’s a very different kind of love to what he feels for Lavellan, who I believe is his true love. 

Based on what we see in the manifestation mural, we learn that Solas was originally a spirit, and that the Evanuris were also spirits who took a physical form using lyrium. When Solas was a spirit, it appears that he was somewhat of a spirit companion to Mythal, providing her with wisdom as she shared power with Elgar’nan. 

Spirits are generally an embodiment of specific emotions, and while they can at times feel other emotions, the range isn’t as wide as if they were a physical person. As humans, we carry a large range of emotions that progressively transform and grow into deeper and more complex emotions with age. The Elves would likely have the same range of emotions that we would as people, but as we now know, the ancient Elves were spirits who took a physical form.

Becoming a physical person would come not only with a new body, but a new capability to feel so many more emotions than you would as a spirit who embodies a single or smaller range of emotions.

When Mythal begs Solas to take a physical form, as she needs his wisdom, we see that he is reluctant, as he can see that it’s not a good idea, and he is content with living as a spirit. However, spending time with Mythal as a spirit companion would have built a strong bond, where he was likely offering her guidance and wisdom regularly. We don’t know if spirits are capable of fully feeling love, but it’s clear that a bond was built between the Solas and Mythal.

When Solas agrees and takes his physical form, he would be feeling all kinds of new sensations as he is no longer a weightless spirit floating around in the fade, but a body of flesh and blood, a beating heart, and a brain that not only processes thoughts but a new range of emotions that he would now become capable of unlocking. In that time, Mythal is likely his only real guide to the life and functions of being a physical person. 

In no way am I infantilizing Solas or saying that he is not responsible for his actions, but it’s almost like when a child becomes aware of their own emotions. They start off with a smaller range of emotions, which then grow more complex as they grow in age. Solas would have started off with his smaller range of emotions and strength in his wisdom, but also learning to feel newer emotions he would not have yet experienced before taking a physical form. 

Mythal and possibly the other Evanuris, would be the only real physical example he would have around him of people. He remains close with Mythal because she was the one who pulled him from his life as a spirit, and guided him into the physical world. She tells him she needs him and his wisdom to help her bring peace to the people, and while Solas can see the dangers in the knowledge he is providing, he believes she is doing these things to achieve peace as she is telling him. He can see the wrongs they are doing together, but he blindly follows because of the bond he has with her and he believes in her cause.

They call him her “lapdog” as he follows her wherever she goes and provides her with the wisdom she is seeking. He wears her vallaslin, which he later burns off his face. He sees the Evanuris around him, seeking power and growing in strength, he learns from their pride and believes that he is doing what is right. He sees them rising to Godhood and enslaving their people, he is no longer a gentle spirit of wisdom, but a prideful leader of a rebellion, Fen’harel. 

Solas continues to help Mythal craft the lyrium dagger and do terrible things, tranquilising the Titans when they rise against them for using their blood to create their physical bodies. Though he acknowledges the danger in their actions, Mythal continues to convince him that they must do these things in order to achieve peace and uses his wisdom as a weapon.

While I don’t condone his actions, I empathise heavily with Solas here as I can see myself in him in these moments. I'm someone who grew up in a very dysfunctional family environment, where showing emotions was considered weakness or an embarrassment. I limited myself to very few emotions growing up, and due to feeling like an outsider, I was often easily taken by people who appeared to be good and kind.

I see myself in Solas in my first ever relationship, where I went against my parents wishes, doing things I knew were wrong for me, but I believed in my partner at that time. I believed he was a good man, who loved me and only wanted what was best for me. I continued to follow whatever he wanted in fear of losing him, and even after a major betrayal, I still believed in him and it took me a long time to break myself out of that.

If you’ve ever been in a relationship, friendship, or had a familial relationship that was abusive, I’m sure you can relate to the almost emotional/mental paralysis that comes when you know that the situation is wrong, but you can’t leave it because you either believe that the person has good intentions, or because of fear of what could happen if you were to leave. 

That’s how I see Solas’ relationship with Mythal, whether platonic, familial, or romantic, he believes in Mythal being a good person seeking peace for her people. He continues to help her and his wisdom becomes pride, his knowledge is changing their world and turning the tides of the war. He knows it’s wrong, but he’s doing this alongside someone he believes in and he doesn’t turn around and say no.

When he sees just how horrible things have become, he begs Mythal to leave with him and she denies him, calls him “love” and says she will look into his concerns. 

As Bellara says when the team are discussing the mural and their relationship, the ancient Elves felt emotions and affection very deeply. I personally agree with Bellara, as when they took on physical forms, they also likely would have picked up the ability to feel a whole range of new emotions without any kind of real regulation. They would feel things deeply and their affection for each other was different to the kind of emotions people of modern Thedas would have developed, especially when their connection to magic and the Fade is completely different.

When the Evanuris killed Mythal, Solas would have felt this pain deeply, as he failed to protect his oldest friend when he tried to stop them from their rise to ultimate power and godhood. He believed they deserved punishment for this betrayal and sealed them away in the veil, which took all his power and led him to sleep in Uthenera for thousands of years.

I'll discuss his relationship with Lavellan and the difference to his relationship with Mythal in part 2 🤍🤍

[thatnonameuser]

MC 🤝 Vil

Sabotaged by platonic yans

At least they'll have something to relate about in quiet moments during the VDC breaks; "you get type cast a lot? But it's always with this one other person? Nah. In this world? No such coincidences, he wants you so bad." ~ MC after being hardened by being in yanverse for too long.

Being a celebrity IS hard. In our world, you already have to deal with so much.. but in a world where obsession is normal? How crazy does it get? Vil would have so many platonic yanderes and even delusional yanderes that believes him to be their soulmate even if he's not a darling. (Same as Neige) So how would he (Vil )or you (author) go about this in the story? (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠)

Fame comes with a heavy price. All the prestige and wealth comes with terrible prices to pay. If you think darlings have it bad, they have it so much worse. They never, ever have privacy, there’s always someone watching even if you’re at the edge of the earth. 

Fans are deluded, either you’re the perfect angel that should never be hurt or you’re their one true love. 

The parasocial relationships are ramped up by a thousand. Every one screen “I love you” is printed out and placed in a shrine, recorded into asmr for them to fall asleep to and hear over and over till they meet face to face. 

Instead of seeking riches, paparazzi seek pictures for their shrines. To capture the famous in their cameras lenses, and then kiss, love and adore the photographs. They also steal what little they can take, strands of hair, anything their lips or fingers touch. 

Going in public without bodyguards or something to protect yourself is a terrible risk. So many celebrities are nearly kidnapped, some actually kidnapped, so the deluded can live out their fantasies. Of wedding arches, of families being born and made….

Word to the wise, never read or open your fan mail. Sometimes it’s something sweet like letters or poetry. But there’s also hearts carved from flesh, sometimes animals, sometimes human. Explosives, meant to kill the people whoever tries to steal the eye of their favored one.

Celebrity feuds usually shed blood. If they were bad in our world, smear campaigns and cancellation attempts grow to near murders and torture in the yandereverse. All news is good news doesn’t apply here. All bad news could lead to the most devoted and obsessed killing the celeb in their sadism and delusion. 

Every mildly invasive thing turns into something so much worse. 

If you’re a darling celebrity….then you’re loved all the more. Such innocence, such fragility. Meant to be loved and protected. And stolen away to be set on a pedestal. Their fans are extremely protective, willing to attack and kill whoever their romantic partner is, yandere or not, to protect that sweet innocence. 

Yandere celebrities have the luxury of more freedom. Their fans want to be snatched up, to be tormented and degraded, willing to do anything if it means they're with them. They’re completely obsessive, worshiping the ground the yanderes walk on. They stuck on the attachment, believing the yandere has an equal obsession for them, platonically or romantically.

(Vil has an entourage of incredibly obsessive followers. Rook is a primary example. They would gut themselves for the chance to meet eyes with him. Vil doesn't respond to anyone of his fanbase but Rook, mostly because he enjoys their friendship.)

And if they were a yandere once considered to be a darling, well that innocence is maintained and protective and obsessive mixes together. They’re protective over their innocence, and obsessed with their existence. What makes the good bad? What makes the fairy tale a real life fantasy? That’s the thought process that goes through the fans’ minds. It’s what enraptures them.

(Neige’s fans adore his innocence and are obsessed with his life. And, his fans would die for him. His interaction with them purposely stokes the fire. Only a fool would ever do that, but Neige isn’t a fool. It benefits him after all.)

Vil is used to his fan base. His father’s a famous actor, he’s seen the people in wedding dresses outside his house trying to marry his father. Then the frankly, unsettling gifts his security team went through when he was starting out. He avoids them almost at all cost, never goes out in public alone and if he does it’s disguised.

Neige. in the opposite end of the spectrum, doesn’t do what Vil does. With the exception of the disguises, because sometimes he wants some privacy. He answers every letter, hugs every fan. He doesn’t need to go out in public with protection because his fans practically kill anyone who touches him. 

Either way, both don't have the luxury of privacy. It's just their school's protections that let them live in relative peace for a while.

What a world celebrities live in…

[corpsentry]

big fan of your poems, i don't even have an instagram acct but ive been regularly reading your poetry from there using those sites that let non-account holders view insta posts. weh....something about the way you use your words is breathtaking. wish i could write that well one day! good luck with everything ever

op you must have woken up that morning and felt the lord (or your holy creature of choice) in your chest moving you towards your phone or your laptop where you found the most random little guy on tumblr and sent them a star of a message. i didn’t know there were such websites— it would make browsing in class on incognito that much easier. it’s crazy that you would do this for me. sometimes i forget that when i put things online people come across them and look at them for a bit. op, your heart must be very wide. and strong and full of yearning and hope. thank you for reading my words and letting them speak to you for a minute or two. it’s all i really want as a writer and everything i hope to leave behind. in life you keep peeling your thoughts and peeling and peeling and eventually they start to look like planets so you write with them. i’m sure your words are just like planets op. good luck with everything ever

[whereserpentswalk]

Look under the cut to see what meeting your entity is like. Reblog to give a gift to your patron.

The fae: a creature stands before you. Though this street was warm and crowded a few moments ago it is suddenly cold and the people around you look like shadows. The creature begins an antlered shadow with glowing white eyes, but soon its body can be seem, with white blue flesh, and sapphire eyes, and icicles for teeth. What looks like a cloak unfolds from its naked body and you can see massive white wings of a moth. As if it's an act of sacrifice you tell it your true name, a name you didn't even see before, and suddenly you belong to it, for better or worse.

The angel: a radiant entity appears before you. They're bright, like something so hot it would burn you up. But as the light fades, you can see a person in silver armor, perfect yet inhuman like am ancient green statue, their back srouting six wings with blue eyes along them, as the eyes on their head are covered by a mask of two smaller wings. The creature offers their hands and you shake it, as they fly you through the city streets and above the skyscrapers, to the stars above and dimensions beyond, to gods living and dead, across the streets of alien cities and the clouds of dead worlds. And when you return to the earth you can feel something diffrent about you, like there's light in your blood.

The scavenger: below the lights of skyscrapers beyond you, on the dark sands of the beach, you see it crawling twords you. This serpentine creature with countless legs, and a dark black shell, yet a strangely human like face. You think it'll attack or run away, but it just looks at you, egar, and for a momment you stare at eachother. It's legs pass something to eachother and then to you, it's meat but it's shining with all the colors known to the human eye, and a few more. You hold it and it happily looks at you. You take a bite and suddenly you know... you know so very much...

The vampire: she flies down to you on green wings with orange eyespots, but folds them into her back. She looks like a human for a momment, tall and strong, with a black suit over her body, but eyes the color of ruby. For a momment her mouth opens, and it's massive and monstrous, with countless moving parts and fangs. But then it folds back onto something humanoid and she gives you a playful smirk. She cuts her hand and offers you her blood, and when you drink it it tastes so sweet, and makes you feel so good. She hands you the knife and you know to do the same, and when she drinks from your palm it's life the sweetest of kisses.

The djinn: the room wirs around you. If it were not for the fans it would feel like hellfire. For a momment there it darkness, but then the screen before you glows white like smokeless flame. You can sense something inside, something beyond the code. You reach your hand within it, and there's no glass, your hand passess right through until you're in a white void of your own making. You call out, thinking there is nothing at all around you. Yet somehow something calls back, something that knows your name.

The rat king: You see him in an empty subway station. Something dark and distorted, you're not sure if he's man or animal, covered in rags, and singing in the language of the goblins and the orcs. Yet he comes close to you excited. And you can feel his song. He calls for you to come to the train tracks, and let yourself run with the rats and the roaches, where the train will pass over you when it comes, and you'll live forever. When you touch the third rail you don't die, but you'll never be human again.

The lich: the library is strangely bright. Run by skeletons in suits, decorated with gold. There are more books here then you thought were in all the world. There's knowledge here most mortals will never have the change below, all kept safe below the city. You see her, her body doesn't look human, everything has been replaced making her look more like a joining white doll then a being of flesh. Yet she is dead, you can tell that under the porcelain skin she must be dead, she is dead, and there is the tragedy of death in her eyes. You come closer to her, and she places a black rose within your hair...

The demon: You stand in his office and he stands before you, a humanoid being covered in black scales, with red eyes covering his skin. Yet none are on his head, that remains featureless save for two massive horns. Wings on his back nearly surround you. Countless souls line the walls of his office, looking at you, waiting. After you sign your name you give him yours, you can feel it come away for you forever and your eyes grey and your skin pales. But he puts the jar in a special place for you, you're spacial, he can tell there's something about you that he likes.

The mushroom lord: you walk through the darkness of the forest, the furthest from civilization you have ever been. You come upon a part where the trees all seem dead, that even the cryptids won't go near. Mushrooms fill the ground, and white vein like lines are all over the trees. You feel the need to lay down, and you let the moss and the mushrooms and the worms surround you, and let yourself sink into the soil,, and it feels good. It feels so good...

The witch: You can see them in the Cafe next to you, skinny and small, with a sweatshirt over most of their body, and dark glasses over their eyes. They seem powerful though, and though their body looks young they seem ancient, they seem beyond humanity. You talk to them and they tell you things, and secrets, lost gods, things you never knew you didn't know, both beautiful and disturbing. When it's time for them to go they pet your head, and give you their number. You don't know if you should text them, but you have to, you have to see them again, there's something about them that makes you need to know.

The living clothing: you step into it at first, it looked like a puddle yet shining like silver or chrome. But soon it surrounds you, first just your torso, but soon your head, your entire body. But it doesn't feel scary, it feels like you're being held, held by something beyond your understanding. It whispers to you, and you don't know if you should feel like your being eaten alive, or like you're being protected. You can't help but keep walking.

The abyss: the void is before you, blackness beyond blackness, like the color beyond the field of your vision, stands before your eyes. You stare at it, it's nothing yet you're entranced. It stares back...

[madly-empirical]

he was definitely also touching up marius' paintings back in the day

Why did armand put the steins in. just love of the game? What the hell man

[hoshigray]

possessive tojikuna 😈🫦

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna + Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (m! receiving) - face-fucking- double penetration (2 dick kuna, lawl) - doggy style position - clitoral play (licking + pinching) - biting - unprotected sex - pet names (baby, good girl, little bird, princess, wife, woman) - slight degradation - highly possessive behavior - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of drool/spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

You knew something was up. You could tell from the sudden chill in the air as you strode back to the palace grounds and walked down the hall to your shared room at dusk.

The palace was shrouded in an eerie silence, the darkness broken only by the flickering light of the candles that guided your path. The servants, usually bustling with activity, now worked silently, their eyes averted. Even Uraume was unusually quiet as they led you to your room, where your husbands awaited you.

They dismiss themselves once you reach the door, leaving you alone in the hall before the shoji panel door. Breathing silently and slowly through your nostrils, a hesitant hand approaching the handle.

Only for the door to open independently and for you to be yanked by the wrist. You could not foretell what happened after this, yet now you know why the palace life had become unusually stifling.

“—Khhh, ahhhck..!! ‘Kunaa, f-for’ive m—Ahhh!”

“Silence, woman; don’t test me.”

You were stripped of your clothing, nude back to the soft futon, and your entire body dwarfed underneath the massive size of Sukuna. The cursed being has you under him as his lower left hand fingers your chasm, and the upper right arm chokes you by the throat. 

The restriction of your airways has you lightheaded, along with the motions of his thick fore and middle finger ravaging your vaginal texture. “Tahhh, ohGodsss…!”

“Hmph, what a whore,” he scoffs with a devilish grin, stuffing his fingers until the hilted knuckle. “So fucking tight on my fingers, you find enjoyment in being punished like this?”

“My King, please,” getting the words out is a battle. “I’m sho—Mmfff!…sho sorry—“

“Sorry for what?” The grip on your throat gets firmer, his thumb big enough to have your blood vessels pulsing for desperation. “For disobeying orders and leaving the fortress or having another man touch you?”

Ah, fuck! You knew this would bite you in the back once you stepped outside. Your husbands were busy with their daily tasks, leaving the fortress walls and instructing you to stay put where it’s safe. However, a specific craving has been growing these past few days, a craving that can only be found in the busy streets of the countryside down south. And since your spouses were out of reach for the day, and Uraume was tending the palace and its subjects as usual, you didn’t want to burden anyone with your selfishness. So, you snuck out at dawn and treaded to the civil human territory on your own.

“Unbelievable,” he curls his digits, which scrape your walls, and your strained cries are taken. “Who told you to leave where you were supposed to be?” His voice is ominous, even in a hushed tone, as he brings his face closer to you. “Who told you that you could let others touch you?” 

“Kunaaa, please, forg’ve me,” the nickname doesn’t lessen the hold on your windpipe. “I was…just getting fruits from the town…And then I’d return—“

“You disobey me for some fruits?” Crimson eyes glint darkly. “And then have that cretin hold your hands—hold what’s mine?”

The pound of your head worsens by the seconds, and the mouth of his stomach chews on the flesh of your tummy. God, this is too much…! “…I–I’m so sorry, my King…I didn’t m–mean to offend you, but my body is only—ghhh—for my hus–bands!”

“Today said otherwise—“

“It was not intentional!” I can’t…breathe…Your cunt tenses from a graze to your upper wall, your eyes watering. “Please, my love, there’s no one else my heart belongs to…I swear on my blood.” 

Finally, he releases your throat from his death grip, yet you’re not given time to gather much air as his hand comes to your cheeks to snatch. Panting heavily as your eyes stay on his, whimpering as he removes his digits from your aching slit. 

The giant huffs with a smirk at the sight of your tears. “Well, I’m not the only one you should swear to, wife.”

Of course, he isn’t; there’s another man in the room witness to your comeuppance. Once Sukuna withdraws himself from your proximity, your trembling figure moves off your back and crawls to the next person who stands on his knees. And you greet him with licks and kisses to his abs. “Toji…” your hands roam to his waist.

“Hey, baby,” emerald eyes observe you. “Got y’rself into trouble today. Didn’t think I wouldn’t see you outside after bein’ told not to?”

“I’m sorry—Mmmm…” you sense Sukuna’s hands keep your ass in place, and the lower other fingers your asshole. Your breath hikes at the contact of the tip of both his cocks, teasing your holes. Something slaps on your cheek, and Toji snickers.

“If y’re really sorry,” the dark-haired man pushes the cockhead to your lips. “Suck this dick like I like it.”

The simultaneous push of Sukuna’s cocks takes your breath, and your mouth is stuck on an indefinite ‘o’ shape. Toji takes advantage and shoves the tip into your mouth. Moans are mumbled, holes puckering to the slow push and pull of the colossus’ hips. After a few seconds, you begin to bob your head and suck.

“Hmmm, bad girl,” Toji grabs for the back of your head. “So busy with y’r lil’ outing that you didn’t notice me see you, walkin’ in the crowd and talkin’ with the townspeople,” he holds his breath from the sight of you lapping your tongue around the glans, precum oozing to your tastebuds. “And then be too friendly with those farmers, laughin’ and talkin’ too close to ‘em.”

You suck on his glans and with a hum. “Mmahh, I wasn’t planning on staying for too long,” you kiss and suck on the skin of the underside of his shaft until you meet his balls. Your tongue swirls on his testes, “I was just being polite—Ahhh!”

“Way too polite,” Sukuna smacks your butt, spawning a mouth to his palm to chew on the flesh to erupt a cry. Another bite comes from his lower right on your waist. “Might as well have asked them to come over.”

“Right…Hnngh!” Toji loves how you guzzle on his testicle. “Is that what ya want, princess? Have some strangers come here and see how much of a slut you are for our dicks, huh?” He yanks you by the chin, your expression already enhancing to a daze. “Wanna let ‘em have a go with you?”

It’s hard to answer as Sukuna ruts increase in pace, toes curling at the rub of your inner walls. “Ghhahh, n-no…! I don’t want anyone else to—shiiit—t-touch me like you do!” Sounds of skin slapping against each other from behind have you twitching even harder. Sukuna places his upper right arm to place on your shoulder to bite on your shoulder, while the lower left slither to your clit for the tongue of his palm to lap and tease. 

“Fuuuck, pussy so tight,” the behemoth sighs deeply. “Feel so good, shit isn’t meant for anyone outside this room.” His hips dial to a sporadic rhythm, shivers crawling up his spine as you scream all cutely from his movement. “All mine,” He bends to speak behind your nape. “All fucking mine.”

“Yesss, ahaaaa,” you howl out with your face smooshed to Toji’s pelvis, your hands stimulating his erection. “I only belong to you, my loves, only you…” you take in Toji’s tip once more, whimpering as his length busy your mouth inch by inch.

“Good girl, good girl,” Toji praises you from above, the hand on your head keeping you glued to him while the other husband has his way with you. Soon enough, both his strong palms come to your face, and he essentially fucks your face like a toy, your jaw loosening to make the process easier. 

Sukuna grabs for your arms and pulls you back but doesn’t stop Toji from fucking your face till the hilt meets your lips, and his balls knock your chin. You’re nerves are heightened, stimulated by the onslaught of pleasure on both ends. Your cunt and anus spasming around the limbs pushing to and fro, and your mouth mumbling on the dick, hitting the back of your throat.

And it doesn’t take long for your climax to steer you off, your frame trembling uncontrollably as you jerk and quaver under the bow of these men. Toji and Sukuna find it amusing, the hand on your clit pinching the bud.

“Hmph, cumming on my cocks like crazy.” The salmon-headed one playfully smacks your ass as your entrances flutter from the aftershocks. “Apology accepted, little bird; consider this a warning until the next time you transgress.”

Toji removes his cock from your mouth, strings of blended saliva and come leave the messy opening. “Now, ya know, princess. C’mon, lemme have my turn.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ☆ dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[okwonyo]

✴︎ FEEL THE BITE.

PREC𝒾S ⠀⟡​⠀​ you make your boyfriend so thirsty.

𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝓲𝐑𝐄！( 엔하이픈 성훈 ) ୨୧ f .. r 1200 vampire au fluff established relationship ── kissing skinship use of profanity ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝒾l

ˊᗜˋreblogs&feebacks。C𝑙𝑖CK

DED𝑖CATED to ✶ to @atrirose ... she knows what that means !

if there is something that sunghoon loves the most in the world, then it is having his mouth on you everytime he can, for sure.

which is why he corners you right between the kitchen’s counter and his strong body. his hot mouth collapses on yours before you can say anything to him. your hands gripping on his shirt as he licks into your mouth makes his mind spin. and he kisses you as if it is his birthright — as if your lips were made for his to mess with, to bite, to turn red, to kiss.

his heart beats faster when your breath catches, when you sigh while he trails kisses all over you. landing multiple kisses, from your mouth to your cheek, to your jaw until delicately pressing lovingly pecks on your neck.

sunghoon has been obsessed with this lately; your neck.

gaze burning holes through your skin when you wear a top that shows off your collarbones perfectly, when a pendant beautifully hangs around your neck, when you stretch and lean your head back. it makes him feel butterflies in his stomach, his throat becomes dry, his mouth waters.

you make him thirsty and desperately hungry.

god knows he has never felt this way before. sunghoon as always been the best to control his lust for blood among his friends. the packs filled with what he calls his snack used to be enough for him. never in his life he has wanted to sink his teeth into someone’s flesh this bad — and he can tell that it’s just because it’s you.

it doesn’t help when you put your hand in his hair, pushing his nose further in the object of his shameful hunger.

he puts his hand on your waist, his hold on you is tight, trying to control himself desperately. with no much effort, he picks you up and makes you sit on the counter then settles himself between your legs. close, so close he could bite you right now.

it feels as if you are doing it on purpose. wearing a perfume that smells a little bit too good to be true or wearing sunghoon’s shirt knowing the collar is too big for you, showing off your shoulders and sending your boyfriend into a spiral. doing everything in your power to show of your upper body when you are perfectly conscious of what he is.

he opens his mouth, his fangs threatens to get out, “baby,” he calls out your petname, before kissing your skin again. you hum and he continues— the words get out of his mouth before he can think of it. “i want to bite you.”

the man halts in his moves when the realization of his words hits. closing his eyes tightly, he mentally curses himself for not thinking before speaking. the taste of you tends to make him lose his mind. as you put your hands on his shoulders to push him away a bit (just to see his face), he looks up to you to search for any look of fear or disgust— you don’t seem that bothered.

“yeah?” you ask, almost eagerly. the enthusiasm translating through your bright smile makes sunghoon blush.

the latter opens his mouth and quickly shuts it. then licks his lips, “what’s up with that tone?” he questions you instead of answering, “why do you sound so excited?”

his eyes grow wider when you shrug your shoulders as if he just asked you to give him some water, “sounds like a sweet threat to me.”

the thing these few words created in sunghoon’s mind, you have no idea of it.

the way you are sitting on the kitchen’s fourniture makes him tilt his his head up to talk to you. he clenches his jaw, a slight smile appears on his mouth, “yeah?”

your hand comes stroking his dark hair, softly, in lieu of an answer. you cup his face delicately before nodding and kissing him again. his palms come resting on your thigh, smoothly moving it up and up as the kiss gets deeper— when you open your mouth, his hand is already on your lower back, pushing you closer to him.

sunghoon already misses the feeling of your soft lips and the warmth of your mouth when he starts peppering kisses from your cheekbones down to where he wants his teeth in.

his hands pushe the fabric of your shirt, making it go a little bit down your shoulder, revealing your skin. the vampire’s hunger builds itself thicker and thicker in the pit of his stomach. everytime he kisses your neck, his lips linger longer on your dulcet skin, his mouth water— the purity of your neck drives him crazy.

when he finally lets the desire win, planting his fangs into you, he slips his hands under your shirt, rubbing your back with his thumb when you hiss. your fingers slip in his hair, holding onto them and pulling them, it doesn’t hurt that much.

he pulls his fangs back. his tongue licks the freshly made bruise. like honey, he tastes it.

your waist gets embraced by his strong arms as the sweet flavor of your blood fills sunghoon’s mouth. his hold getting tighter and tighter— he can feel his sanity slipping through his fingers as he keeps on sucking your neck.

it hurts so good, his teeth in your skin, your blood getting sucked dry by the love of your life. the pheromones it lets out makes you dizzy and flushed down to your chest.

he bites your skin a little bit more, making blood get out of your body a little more. his teeth brushing over your neck sends tickles and wave of pleasure down your spine

your back arches while he sucks even harder, your grip on his arms and his hair as much as you can— sunghoon’s name leaves the barrier of your lips without you even realizing it. the sound of your voice calling him alone changes the atmosphere.

he gently goes back to kissing your wound. you sigh, his lips on you sending a weird sense of comfort in your whole being, like a medicine, like a bandaid.

his humming vibrates against your neck when you pat his hair. he pulls back, his firm hold on your waist from a moment ago get’s lighter and more gentle.

his face is as flushed as yours whereupon he gaze meets yours, the heavy rise and fall of his chest mirrors yours. lips swallowed, breathless and messy haired. your favorite genre.

sunghoon’s eyes follow your hand as it comes to his cheek, your thumb approaches his lips, wiping a droplet of your own blood off his lower lip. then, his fingers wraps around your wrist before you can pull back. with his eyes staring into your iris, he licks your thumb just a little, enough to make the blood on it disappear.

a wide smile draws itself on his face when he sees your eyes grow wide. you push him slightly before bursting into laughter, but it doesn’t keep him away from hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

you pat his back while your laughter gets quieter, “does my blood taste that good?” you press your cheek against his head, “hm?”

he is obviously smirking when he responds, “you have no idea.”

ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open !

(..◜ᴗ◝..) first and last time i will write something like this.

sunghoon: babe, i kinda want to suck your blood with a crazy straw.... reader: seriously???? yay! ^^

[misstycloud]

Yandere merman x reader x best friend

———————————————————————

Imagine a darling finding out she’s half-mermaid.

She lives in a small fishing village way out in he country. It’s the kind of town no one ever leaves. You’re born, grow up, and die there. Whole generations of families have lived there since long before.

Her parents are normal folks; father’s sailor and mother’s a stay-at-home wife. But since darlings family is so much like others’, she doesn’t understand why she’s so different. Her mother often jokes about how her first word was ‘sea’ and how she’d find her standing in her crib, staring out the window at the waves crashing into the cliffs.

Darling has been in a constant battle with herself her whole life. Since as long as she can remember she’s had a gripping fascination with the ocean. She can’t help it! Every night when everyone else laid sound-asleep in their beds, did she lie awake and fantasize about sneaking out and disappearing under the dark waves. No matter how hard she tried shutting these thoughts away, they always came back to haunt her.

While her mother thought is was cute and not a problem, it couldn’t be anything more. Her mother didn’t understand- as sweeet as she was. It probably stemmed from her being too busy with darlings younger siblings and doing chores, that she didn’t think of how the village spoke of her daughter. They call her strange and speak of what a waste of beauty on someone like her; she’s no good and you can’t marry her. Her mother didn’t know about how the rest of the kids teased darling. They pulled her her and pushed he on the ground. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for her to find her school books wet with sea water, since she ‘likes it so much’. The teachers didn’t care either.

The only solace darling can find is in her best friend. He always defended her agaisnt her bullies- which was practically everyone- and stayed by her side, even when he could become affected too. Darling feels he’s too good to her. The times she felt so alone, he was there to comfort her when her confidence was at its lowest. He held her when she cried and patted her back, whispering into her ear about how sweet and beautiful she is.

Then, by chance one day, she meets a merman. She is surprised- merfolk only exists in stories after all! The merman is so inhumanly beautiful. With long hair cascading down his back and a long fish tail. His tail looked very strong, he was no doubt an excellent swimmer. At first she is scared of him, she runs away-ignoring his shouts for her to come back- and keeps to herself in her room. Her family is worried and wonders if something is wrong, but she tells them it’s nothing and that she’s just a little tired. In her room, darling thinks about the merman. How is it possible for him to exist? Was she hallucinating and perhaps he wasn’t real? Are there other mythological creatures out there? After overcoming her initial fear and hesitance, she decides to go back to the beach.

The merman was still there. She dares ask how he can talk and he responds with, “My people don’t speak the way you do, but I have taught myself the language of humans. That’s how I am communicating with you.”

She asks him more questions, all of which he answers truthfully. Or, well, she hoped he wasn’t trying to deceive her. Darling even gained the courage of asking whether the stories of merfolk feastin on human flesh is true, and when the merman confirms it’s indeed true, she backs up. When he notices her alarmed state, he hurriedly add that he would never eat her.

It’s then he hits her with the most shocking reveal of her life. Apparently, he senses mer- blood in her vains.

“….n-no, that can’t be. You must be sensing wrong- I’m human..!”

He sighs. “Merfolk are very intuitive. We always recognise our own kind.”

He reveals that he suspect her of being half- merfolk since the scent of mer is strong on her. Darling thinks it’s laughable, both her parents are perfectly human. It can’t be. Like, she’d notice if one of her parents was a mythological creature with a fish tail as a lower half.

The merman tells her of old stories among his people, of mers who reproduced with humans- whether its be willingly or the human had kidnapped them. The children would always be different. On the surface they appeared like any other human, but on the inside there would constantly be a longing to return to their orgins- the ocean. Darling is conflicted. On one hand she can’t believe what she’s hearing, however, the description of the half- bloods fit her too well.

That night she confronts her father while he’s getting off work. He breaks instantly. She is shocked to discover that her father had an affair with a mermaid whilst being married to her mother. He had discovered her while fishing in an unpopular area and took her with him. He sobs that he couldn’t help it, the mermaid was so enchanting he couldn’t control himself. When the mermaid fell pregnant, he was so scared of what his wife would say when she found out, but when the child came out human, he was puzzled but relieved at the same time. He brought the baby home and played it off as finding it abondoned by the docks.

Darling can’t believe it. Her father was practically a monster. She recalled the tales of kidnapped merfolk held against their will, by the merman. She couldn’t imagine what her birth mother must’ve gone through. Her father begs her not to tell her mother because it would destroy the happy family they’d built.

In the end, she chooses to keep the secret for the time being. The right thing was to tell her mother, but it was also true that it would ruin everything and she didn’t want her younger siblings to grow up in a broken family. The only thing she wanted was for her father to leave her alone and never speak to her unless absolutely necessary. He agreed.

She begins spending all her time by the beach, in the company of the merman. She wondered what his name was, and to her bewilderment, he shrugged and said he didn’t have one. So she decides to give him one herself, Aqualor. It seemed merfolk-y enough. Luckily, the merman didn’t object and smiled instead, accepting the name.

Her best friend is worried though. He can never seem to even catch a glimpse of the love of his life anymore. Where was she? Now that they’d both grown into adults, it became harder to see each other; he had to work to support himself(and her, in the future). He felt horrible about it, but in all honesty he was a little glad the rest of the village didn’t take to her. If they did, surely she would have been taken away from him. Even if she didn’t know it, she was incredibly beautiful. It was impossible for him not to be a little biased, but she truly was the most wonderful thing he’d laid his eyes on. He could only imagine how it’d be if people actually treated her like she looked.

While her best friend felt the separation anxiety, darling count be happier. Finally she had someone who understood her fully. There was someone to relate to when she explained the urge to dive deep beneath the waves and disappear, and how pleasant water felt on her skin. Aqualor understood everything perfectly.

Her best memory was of her first swim with Aqualor. She’d been somewhat sacred in he beginning. Despite her desperate longing for the ocean, she’d never been in it much. It was quite ironic. He’d been so patient with her, never pushing or getting annoyed. He waited until she was more comfortable venturing out in the openness. Now they swam together every day, laughing and playing. Of course, Aqualor was the superior swim more out of the two of them, but darling likes to think she isn’t so shabby herself.

This is how she thought the rest of her life would be like; she and Aqualor enjoying each others company from morning to evening, while she returns home to the village every night. She didn’t have a job- no one would hire her anyway- so why not have fun with your friend? It wouldn’t be the best life, but it’d be peaceful and easy.

However, the ‘easy’ disappeared when Aqualor asked if she’d like to join him in the sea permanently.

“What? What do you mean?” She tilted her head in confusion.

The merman flipped his tail in the shallow water- his upper body was on the sand while the rest of him remained in the water. “Would you not like to come with me? We already spend so much time together, so it would hardly be any different.”

“Yeah, but I can’t just leave. I have to stay with my family.” She glanced back up and could see the tiniest snippet of houses, the village.

“You mean the father who has committed sins, a mother who doesn’t care for your feelings and siblings who forget your existence?” He harshly pointed out. His words stung.

“They’re far from perfect, I know that. But still, I can’t just vanish- I don’t even think I can survive out there!”

He grabbed her hand, his were wet and slightly webbed. It didn’t bother her though.

“Of course you can. Remember your heritage? Besides, I will be there and guide you through it. I will protect you, I will hunt for you. It will just be you and me, happy and content. Doesn’t it sound lovely?”

She went quiet and looked away, unsure.

He continued, “You alway tell me of how the humans treat you. They scorn you and say hateful words about you. That is because you are above them.” He smiled. “You do not belong here- you are mer! You should be with your people.”

“But even if I have mer-blood, I’m still human, look at me.” She stretched out her legs, flexing them and empathising their difference.

“You may have the appearance of a human, you soul, however, it is of a mermaid. You long to be free and to live the life you’ve always meant to live. They can’t keep you here in this…” his voice trailed off to disgust “cage.”

Darling sat and listened to Aqualor’s ramblings. Did he have a point? It’s not like anyone would miss her really. Her friend, yes, but he has so much else to live for. He’s not strange and everyone thinks well of him. He’ll be successful.

“So, what do you say, my coral? Will you join me?”

[buuniebaby]

being long distance with hamzah until 4 months into dating you visit him in Canada where you get to spend ur first night together and can finally touch him. hamzah being so pent up after not being able to touch his pretty gf that when he finally gets to he can’t hold back:((

BREAKING THE DISTANCE 🎀

includes: long distance rls, rough sex, reader is on birth control, creampie

thank yew guys for all the love on my recent works mwahhhh 💝

you’re entirely enamored with hamzah - that’s the long and short of it.

it’s why sitting in an uber, anxiously bouncing your leg up and down, waiting impatiently to finally see him in person for the first time is so scary.

you know in your head that seeing hamzah for the first time isn’t something you should even really be scared about. hell - you’ve seen all of him, and vice versa. you’ve been dreaming of this domestic life with him throughout your whole relationship; finally being able to sleep in the same bed, kiss his pretty face, and have him wrap his arms around you while you cook. you craved it, and being around him would be the only thing to make the ache settle.

but it’s still scary.

the biggest nail in the coffin is when you’re standing in front of his door, anxiously bringing your hand to knock.

when you get no response back for a few seconds, you panic. could you have gotten the wrong address? maybe you didn’t knock hard enough.. but what if he heard, and knocking twice makes you look wayy too desperate-

blood runs to your cheeks as your thoughts are immediately cut off, watching as the door slowly creaks open.

god, he looks so much better in person.

all you can do is stare for a second. he has an awkward smile on his face - it’s cute. his curls fall on his forehead messily, but it suits him. the tshirt he’s wearing loosely fits over him, but still accentuates the overall shape of him. not to mention his muscular arms and legs - you can nearly feel yourself drool at the inseam shorts he’s wearing, showing off his thighs.

“sorry uh- im not really dressed up for you- but holy shit. you’re here. like actually.” he rambles, not knowing how hot he looks.

“no.. you look good like this.” you respond back, sly, eyeing him up and down. he smirks back at you - he knows what you want.

“why don’t you come in then?” he asks, pulling you through the door by your hips before you can give him a response.

by the moment the door closes behind you, he’s all over you. he pulls you into a kiss; your first together. its passionate, full of desperation, just like you thought it would be. that craving has finally filled itself - it’s there when you realize this is all you’ve ever wanted.

“you’re here.” hamzah whispers. eyes closing, he rests his forehead on yours. “you’re really here.”

you melt at his words. knowing the way that sense desperation is shared between the two of you makes your heart warm; you’re holding yourself back from doing something stupid like pinching his cheeks. you’re so deep in love for that boy, and seeing him is only making you more insane.

he finally pulls away, holding your hands as he eyes you up and down. you can see his mind’s tone change right before your eyes when he focuses on certain parts of your body.

before you know it you’re kissing again and hamzah’s hands are trailing across your body. there’s a hand on your hip, fumbling it’s fingers with the soft flesh on your tummy. the feeling of him groping your body is like a dream coming true, something you’ve been yearning for.

keeping you in his hold, hamzah maneuvers you to his couch, pushing you down so you land back-first onto the cushion. he kisses you for a second, lips crashing upon yours, but they soon slow. he pulls away, a questioning look upon his face.

“you sure you wanna do this like- right here? I have a room for you, with like, a bed and stuff.” he utters, breathless from kissing. you giggle, facing him from underneath, the weight of his toned body holding you down. you think about it for a minute, then smirk to yourself as an idea forms in your head.

“can we do it in your bed? the one you’re always in during facetimes.” is what you softly mutter back. a blush creeps onto hamzah’s face at your mention of the facetimes between you two. he knows exactly what you’re talking about - the same bed where he always strokes himself or humps his pillow while he thinks of you.

“yeah- yeah, that would be good.” you watch him shyly move his head to the side, avoiding eye contact as thoughts of you form in his head. with that, he lifts you into his hands, manhandling you into a bridal carry.

you’re being thrown into his bed as soon as you know it, landing softly on the fluffy sheets. to the side is the pillow, the one you’ve watched him cum all over, and on the dresser lays a pair of panties you had mailed to him.

he crawls on top of you, but still not close enough to kiss your face. he starts lower, placing soft, gentle kisses on your lower stomach.

“s’pretty,” he mumbles, entranced by you. “wanted this for so long.”

he hooks his finger in the garment covering what’s below your stomach, slowly pulling it down to reveal to him what he’s really been waiting for.

“such a pretty pussy, baby.” he says, fingers just every-so-slightly trailing across your clit. he spreads the lips open, sinking in face-first without a second thought.

you respond instantaneously as he kisses and sucks at your pussy, a loud gasp coming from your mouth as your hips buck up into his. your hands are in his hair, pulling at him like you could lose him if you don’t grip hard enough. your soft thighs clench around his face, essentially straddling his head. he wraps his arms around them softly, but you know that if you struggled his hold would be a lot harder.

you let out a strangled gasp as he presses a finger inside of you, and fuck, they’re big.

“you okay?” hamzah murmurs, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

“yeah, keep going. they’re just big- bigger than mine.” you reply, eliciting a giggle from hamzah. you nearly laugh in return, but not before he dives back into your pussy, eating you out while his finger is inside you.

eventually one finger becomes two, and your legs are starting to feel like jello. he’s eating you out like it’s his last meal before the death penalty, and you’re using every bone in your body to keep yourself from cumming.

“hamzah- hamzah stop- fuck-“ you say, pulling him by the curls so he’s no longer latched onto your clit. he looks up on you, big brown eyes and all, a concerned expression on his face.

“wanna-“ you start, still catching your breath. “wanna get fucked by you- don’t wanna cum yet.” is all the words you can get out. hamzah smiles, no longer any concern in his mind.

“well, you should’ve just said something, baby.” he replies, hands already maneuvering you onto his lap. his boner is obvious, bulging against you. by instinct, you begin to rock your hips. your palms are dead set on hamzah’s shoulders, using them to keep you stable.

his lips attach to your neck, sucking on you like a vampire. his rough fingers dig into your waist, guiding you as you grind on his clothed cock.

“baby,” groans hamzah, tilting your neck just a slight bit more to the right for easier access. the roll of your hips speeds up, hamzah’s head going back as he moans. he kisses you again, on the lips this time; it’s soft. it’s more of an appreciative kiss, one he’s been waiting to do since he first met you online.

the two of you part, a string of saliva keeping you connected. he stops you for a second, as if he’s remembered something.

“you’re still on birth control- right?”

your mind immediately races back to your sexual conversations with hamzah - all his fantasies about hitting it raw, cumming inside of you..

“yeah, of course.” you reply back.

whatever he’s about to do to you, you’re excited for.

“so like.. no condom?” hamzah looks down at you, practically pleading.

“only because it’s you.” you reply, semi-sarcastically.

hamzah is already getting down to work, boxers thrown off, landing somewhere in the messiness of his room. he promised himself he would clean it for you - and he did !! a little.

hamzah realizes he’s spacing out and immediately refocuses back on you, only to see that you’ve already undressed just like him. he’s already painfully hard, but he feels himself grow at the sight of your body all laid out for him.

“holy shit,” he swears, under his breath. “you look so.. pretty.”

“yeah?” you smile, flushing red.

“yeah.” he mutters, pulling you back into his lap, small legs straddling thick, tan hips. “always wondered what you would look like, like this. just for me.”

“live up to your expectations?” you ask, playfully.

“so much better.” he replies back, wrapping his arms around you.

you’re teasing him - your pussy slides over the tip of his cock, but it’s nowhere near actually entering. he lets out a strangled moan, desperately trying to get himself together so he can finally put it in.

once he finally gathers his composure, he lines himself up below your hole. slowly but surely, he presses into you, making sure you don’t get hurt. you gasp at the way he fills you perfectly, fingers grasping onto the big arms that keep you balanced. when his hips finally press against yours, you two just sit there for a second, and it sinks in:

you’re finally together.

you whisper from above his shoulder a soft “you can move, im okay,” and he doesn’t need to be told twice. there’s a long drag of his hips, and then he’s slamming into you.

you’re tight- hamzah can feel it every time your hips come down on his cock. if he knew you were gonna feel this fucking good, hell, he would’ve booked you that flight a million times sooner. being inside you has brought upon a hazy sensation he’s never felt before. the feeling makes him buck his hips up into you, more desperate than before.

“fuck- ah- hamzah!” is all you can say when the thrust of his hips gets faster. “h-hold on, baby-“

“needed you,” is all hamzah says back. “so fucking bad..”

your hands bawl into fists as you grip hamzah for dear life, letting him thrust into you rapidly as if you’re a toy. he shifts so that his feet lay on the mattress, allowing him to thrust even deeper. the feeling is killing you.

a groan rips from his throat, no - a growl. it’s dirty, passionate, but god, it’s hot. he’s needy, pinning you to his chest as he thrusts up into you. taking what’s rightfully his.

“don’t stop- please” you mewl, feeling yourself clench around him. you’re getting close. hamzah is only urged to go faster by this - he couldn’t even think of stopping. his vision is blurring, clouded by euphoria. he can only picture you in front of him, desperately moaning on his cock. his. cock. that’s what you are - his.

“want you to cum- fuck.” he says, broken moans cutting him off. “around my cock, wanna feel it.”

your half-spoken curses fill the air as your hips grind against him. you’re needy, ready to cum, and the feeling is killing you. before you know it, you’re arching your back, bending your body to impossible lengths, and screaming loud enough hamzah thinks you might get a noise complaint.

hamzah isn’t far behind - especially after seeing how fucking pretty you look while cumming. it’s enough to push him off the edge, hands gripping your waist as he paints your insides white. he kisses you deep, moans muffled behind his lips. the grip he has on you is so strong, it could break you.

he catches his breath, feeling the shake of your legs from his lap.

“wanted this for so long, you don’t even know.” he says. he’s staring at you with heart eyes, fully in love.

“me too.” you reply, satisfied. “really bad.”

you get up, walking on trembling legs, doing that awkward walk trying to prevent the cum from dripping out of you. hamzah sees this and stops you, getting up instead.

“stay here. ill clean you up.” he says, giving you a kiss on the forehead and tucking you into his bed.

as he’s walking out the door, he turns around like he forgot something.

“you want water? or nah.”

[literallygwenstacy]

“Dad are you really this afraid of me?!”

PS: I edit this a lot so be sure to come back occasionally!

There were a LOT of lines in Across the Spider-Verse that stuck out to me, but this specific one hit me right in the feels.

First of all the way Gwen says it, her tone, the pain and emotion in her voice, her expression, EVERYTHING leading up to this one simple question is heartbreaking. Especially when you consider why she’s even asking this in the first place.

I want to point out that right after Gwen took her mask off, the background colors change from dark red to much less threatening colors, much softer if I might add. This basically signifies George’s POV.

Gwen had just revealed her identity as Spider-Woman to her dad, who’s now in complete shock. He believes Spider-Woman is a murderer and the one responsible for Peter’s death, so now that his own daughter comes out and tells him that she is in fact Spider-Woman, he jumps to the conclusion that “Spider-Woman is a murderer who killed Peter so that must mean that’s all true about my daughter.” instead of “Ah, my daughter is sweet so there’s no way those things about Spider-Woman are true!”. Now when I first watched this scene, I was like “Huh?”, because Gwen could’ve said ANYTHING else to her dad. She could’ve been like “Why are you doing this?!��, or she could’ve gotten angry at him. Gwen is WAY stronger than George, if he decided to shoot her, she would have been able to easily dodge that bullet. She could seriously hurt George if she wanted to and she knows it, but when George started reading Gwen her Miranda Rights, Gwen wasn’t angry, she was heartbroken, and you can see the change in her expression.

At first, she looks upset, fearful, and worried. Then, she looks hopeful. Hopeful that her dad will hear what she has to say, hopeful that her dad will understand her and trust her when she tells him that she isn’t a murderer, but he doesn’t. THATS when Gwen’s expression shifts from hopefulness to disbelief and heartbreak. “You’re in this to help people right? Well so am I”, Gwen was trying to convince her dad that she was on his side, that she didn’t kill Peter, that she isn’t what he thinks she is, but George doesn’t listen. Gwen thought that by telling her dad “You’re all I have left”, that that’d make him listen, but it didn’t.

You can hear the utter shock and disbelief in Gwen’s voice when her dad actually starts reading her rights, and you can hear how scared and distraught George is too, but there’s a hint of remorse in his voice. He sounds like he doesn’t want to do this. He sounds like he’s in pain, and well- he is. He’s arresting his own daughter. George thought that he was doing the right thing by hunting down Spider-Woman, he thought it was for the greater good, but now? He realizes he was just hurting Gwen.

Just put yourself in Gwen’s position for a second. She just revealed her biggest secret to her dad, and the reason she hid it from him for so long was because she was terrified of the thought that he would attempt to arrest her, and he DOES. He chooses to be a ‘good’ cop over being a dad. Imagine your own father, your own flesh and blood, and the person who gave you life, is absolutely terrified of you to the point where he almost aims a gun at you out of pure fear. But George doesn’t see his own child, he sees a monster. The same monster that murdered his daughter’s best friend. He quite literally can’t see his daughter in front of him, he just sees Spider-Woman.

“How long have you been lying to me?” Is the only question George asks Gwen throughout this entire scene. He asked this as a father, not as a cop. He was absolutely distraught and the only thoughts going through his mind were “No, this can’t be true…” and “How could my girl, my sweet girl…” (Actual line from the script btw). Another line that sort of stood out to me was “Can you just not be a cop for a second and be my dad here?”, Gwen didn’t feel like she was speaking to her dad, she felt like she was facing down a cop. George has been treating Gwen like a criminal this whole interaction. “Do you really think I’m a murderer?” Gwen asked this because could not BELIEVE that her dad actually thought that of her. The whole reason Gwen removed her mask in the first place was out of fear that her dad would actually shoot her, he already fired a warning shot, so why wouldn’t he just go ahead and pull the trigger?

Something I noticed earlier is how Gwen’s spider senses went off when her dad approached her. Spider senses ONLY go off when there’s a threat nearby, so this pretty much means Gwen saw her dad as a threat to her life :(

Also taking note of the fact that Gwen is his daughter, sixteen years old- and like 5’4, yet George is STILL powerless against her. His only option is to get her to surrender. Gwen and George kinda switched places throughout this scene. At first, Gwen is terrified of George, and then by the end it’s the other way around.

Gwen tries her hardest to plead with George, she kept her arms up in a defenseless position the whole time to show her dad that she won’t hurt him, but he can’t even look at her. This is something I took note of when watching ATSV; While George is reading Gwen her Miranda Rights, he can’t bring himself to look at her. He just stares at the ground, with a disappointed expression on his face. A face of pain. There’s a clear difference when George first says “You have the right to remain silent”, and the second time he says it. It’s like he doesn’t want to do it.

Now, I do hate George and I think he did a LOT wrong in this movie, but just look at his face for a second. Does that look like the the face of a man who is happy with what he’s doing? No. That’s a face of regret and guilt. He isn’t doing this because he wants to, he’s doing this because he’s afraid. Afraid of what exactly? Well, that brings us to my next point.

So obviously Gwen is in shock right now, her own father is trying to arrest her because he believes she murdered her childhood friend. Not only is Gwen shocked but she’s also confused. She’s probably thinking “Why is he doing this?”, and she came to the conclusion that her dad was doing this out of fear. Fear of HER.

This is a major reason as to why Gwen didn’t reveal her identity to her dad for so long. She knew he wouldn’t accept her, she knew he’d be scared of her, and she was right. George isn’t doing this just because he wants to be a good cop, he’s standing in front of the ‘dangerous menace’ who killed Peter, and that dangerous menace is Gwen, his daughter. George’s immediate reaction is to arrest Gwen because like I said earlier- He can only see Spider-Woman.

Now onto what this whole analysis is about, the line Gwen utters next… Along with “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done”, and “I can’t lose one more friend”, this line BROKE me. Gwen assumed that George was doing this out of fear, which is the main reason she asked him this. She was so frustrated by the thought of her own father doing something like this to her. She hated being misunderstood to the point of being seen as a monster by the one person she considers a role model to follow, the ONE person she has left. You can hear the pain in Gwen’s voice as well as her dad’s.

You can actually hear a slight change in George’s tone after Gwen says that line. Because SHE’S RIGHT. He IS afraid of her. That’s the whole reason as to why he’s doing this. He doesn’t even respond to her, his voice slightly breaks and you can definitely tell this is really hard for him. Hearing his own daughter straight up ask him if he’s really afraid of her probably felt like a punch in the gut, that’s a question neither of them thought they’d ever have to face.

George fears Gwen because she allegedly ‘killed’ Peter, but it’s also because of her abilities. George has seen what Spider-Woman is capable of. He’s seen what she can do. That’s the reason he backed away and raised his gun at Gwen when she took a step closer to him and yelled “DAD STOP!”, he was scared of her.

Gwen was heartbroken. She was trying her HARDEST to plead with her dad just for him to try and arrest her, aim a gun at her, and yell “DONT COME ANY CLOSER!” at her when she tried to approach him. You can literally hear the fear in his voice. Honestly I’m surprised Gwen didn’t snap after this, let alone forgive George at all. Imagine living with the mentality that your own dad didn’t hesitate to point a gun at you while yelling at you to not come any closer, poor Gwen.

I’ve always wondered what would’ve happened if Miguel and Jess hadn’t intervened. George actually had the intention of shooting Gwen, so if Miguel didn’t trap him in that box thing, George might’ve actually gone through with it, and that’s sickening to think about. The fact that he was even WILLING to aim a gun at Gwen is enough to fuck her up.

A difference between Miles and Gwen is that Miles knows he didn’t kill Uncle Aaron. Gwen on the other hand originally thought she didn’t kill Peter but the more her dad blamed Spider-Woman for it, the more she actually started to believe that she was responsible for his death. When Gwen told George “I didn’t murder Peter”, she was obviously trying to convince her dad that Peter’s death wasn’t her fault, but I think she was also trying to convince herself.

I don’t blame Gwen for wanting to join the Spider Society after all of this. I mean come on, her dad is terrified of her and thinks she’s a murderer, and she believes if she joins the Spider Society, she’ll finally find people who accept and understand her. No wonder she left Earth 65.

This entire scene was so heartbreaking dude I wanna cry time I watch it ☹️ The watercolors in the background as well as the voice acting from both Gwen and her dad were amazing and SO emotional, along with their expressions and the soundtrack- Ahh I could talk about this movie forever 😭 But anyways, thanks for reading my little analysis and FUCK GEORGE STACY ALL MY HOMIES HATE GEORGE STACY!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🗣️🗣️🗣️💥💥💥💥💥🙅🏼‍♀️🙅🏼‍♀️🙅🏼‍♀️

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Okay you cannot give me possible Macaque vs the destined one without giving me some more! It wasn't enough! Loved it though. So I make m6 very first request to you.

Can I request Reader trying to identify Macaque from The Destined One?

Love your work

- Phoenixeclipse-lmkau 🩷

The blade sunked so deep in his abdomen and with such force that it not only went through but also pierced the stone behind him.

A sudden cry of pain came to him, stuck between the body weight of his opponent and the rock, and only when he tried to break free from them did he feel this burning sensation. Another scream came out of him, more powerful than before, and just when he tried to move away from the blade, the same blade turned red, with the smell of burnt flesh and hair almost making him throw up.

The Macaque just smiled, satisfied with his work. He looked at the scene, circeling the destined one, admiring how his plan slowly was taking form. The blood from the previous attack stood out on his white mane, and his gloden eyes gleam of pure malevolent enjoyment when he saw the other simian trying again to break free, only to meet more pain.

"I make it myself, I'm proud of it. Won't you think, brother?" He snarled at the last word, meeting the furious eyes of the Destined one.

How ironic to be raised both with the same intent, only to reveal the true identity of one another. And how incredibly satisfying to outdone what the first Macaque ever did.

"You...fucking ba-"

"Ah, ah, ah, I would control my words! Especially if I were in your position." He smiled, moving again the magic blade, causing another scream of agony.

"Why are you doing this?!"

"Why? It's not obvious?! To finally take what's mine! You did a good job, brother, really you did, but... well, let's just say that I need to remove you from the picture."

How could he not see it?! The fighting, those strange new abilities, his strange behavior—he was what was left of the Macaque!

But...Wukong killed him, right?! He was able to do it with Buddha's help! How was he able to come back?!

"I'll take the relics that you had gained, then find the ones that are still missing, take their power, and BOM! A new sage! ...this time me, of course!" He laughed; he must have felt so satisfied with how the situation was turning. The destined one was LIVID; he tried and tried again to get free only to feel that pain every time!

"You...won't! You can't find...the relics! Only the destined one AND the Bián huá have this ability!"

"Don't you think I wouldn't think of that?" He smiled again, looking at him, leaning against the rock. Instantly, the monkey understood what the Macaque Plan was going, and suddenly he started to struggle against the magic blade, trying to ignore the constant pain.

"NO! Don't you dare; don't you freaking dare! You won't lay a finger on her!"

"Yeah, and who's going to stop me, huh? I already take care of that old pig, and this thing here is made specifically to hold you in place."

The destined one, the One that was closer than ever before to awaken the Great Sage, was enraged because His precious Bián huá was alone and ready to be stolen. That was too good to be true!

"Aaah came on, don't take It too bad! I'm releasing you from this stress! You should thank me! ... Or you angry for something else?"

Yuán Fèn started to snarl so hard that his own teeth were cutting his cheeks from inside. His wound was getting worse for the continuous reopening from the metal and the burn. His eyes were glowing from his rage and fear of what could happen to you with the macaque.

His counterpart, on the other hand, was having the time of his life, but he had work to do...

"Don't worry, brother," he said menacingly, passing his hand in front of his face, taking the same exact look as the monkey. "She won't notice the difference."

And so he took his time, laughing on the way out, while the Destined One was screaming in rage.

///

He was surely taking his time, which was strange... Yuán Fèn never took too long for a solo scouting, especially when you both were in some desolated place like that forest.

Even Bajie hasn't returned yet. You started to get worried; they should have been back hours ago.

You were just packing your staff, ready to search for them, when the rustles of the leaves and a well-known tail calmed you down.

"Oh boy...you gave me a heart attack!"

The monkey in front of you smirked, coming down from the branch that was supporting him.

"Did I scare you? My bad..."

He leans himself on the tree, his eyes fixed at you. It was easy; he had done it countless times; the only difference was that every Bián huá before you was completely useless. You were the real deal there.

"Off, scare me! Of course! I Just...." You noticed the way that he was looking at you. It was different, from his usual way at least. "Do I...have something on my face?"

"Nah, just admiring the view."

You felt uncomfortable. You never felt uncomfortable, especially around him. Since when his eyes made you so nervous, aside from some really emotional situations? Maybe it was just you... Yeah probably!

"Sure..."

He chuckled. Were you always like this with the other monkey? Ah, it didn't surprise him that he fell hard. You were ready to be eaten...

"So! Ready to go?"

"Uh?"

"Silly One...the mission! We must go, remember?"

"But...Bajie isn't coming back. We can't just leave."

"Ah, I'm sure he's fine! Maybe he's even closer to the relic than us!"

Why did he say something like that? He and Bajie had left together; if Bajie had decided to head on, he would have said that, and why did you feel that way?

You felt something—a strange sensation. The first time you met Yuán Fèn back at the mountain, you felt like you were pulled to him; now you feel like...repulsed. You didn't feel safe...

Why were you acting in that way?

He noticed your reaction, finding you so helpless and adorable. You were so unsure... did you feel something was off? Oh gods, he hoped not; he really didn't want to get RID of such a potential one. He got closer, taking advantage of your confused state, giving you a small buffet on your cheek.

You jumped by this sudden action, gasping for the sudden move. He chuckled, putting his arm around your shoulder and literally dragging you away from the meadow.

"Came on, don't tell me that you don't trust me!"

"N-no no! I would never!"

"Then, let's go! The road is long and the day short!"

He hummed, a satisfied grin on his face, while you were fighting the urge to show him off of you and try to find Bajie by yourself. Instead, you gently lowered your head on his chest. He smiled, and his sharp nails started to scratch your head, caressing your hair.

"Don't be afraid; I'll protect you, remember?"

But you didn't care; you were listening, and something was absolutely wrong.

A few hours passed, and all this time you were obeying him, following him wherever he meant to go. You didn't know where you two were going; you didn't care ,what really motivated you was to understand.

Around, Yuán Fèn had always shown a silly side, an easy one, but it was different from this one. He knew how to separate seriousness from sillyness, and he had always this secure aura around him that made him him. Now he was...content? No, satisfied. He never looked like this, not even after he found one relic or some will; he had shown some excitement, but that face...it was his, and yet not.

But how? You did question him from time to time, and he seemed to know everything you knew!

"You okay down there?"

He takes you back to him, looking at you from behind his shoulder. Another strange thing, since he would have never left you behind without knowing that you were all right.

"Yes...yes, I was just..." You looked around, noticing then a brownish object at the base of a tree. "...Purple Lingzhi."

"Um? come again?"        He stopped, looking at you, raising an eyebrow. You gulped, pointing at the small cluster of mushrooms.

"Well, Chen Loong, ask us to find some! Remember?"

He stayed silent, actually noticing the mushroom that was groowing a few feet away. He chukled, waving his hand like to apologize for the forgetfulness.

"Ah, my bad, my bad. I almost forgot!" He laughed, then started to pick the mushroom while you were reaching for that big fallen branch that you spotted a few feet away.

The Zodiac village was a bliss, no enemies, an easy way to obtain medicines...and completely hidden from every kind of eye. Last time Loong Chen had lamented that if you two brought more Purple Lingzhi to him, we would just get sick, and you and the monkey just laughed, thinking of getting nausea from that mushroom. Yuán Fèn should have known that because he was there.

That was the confirmation to your suspect: that monkey wasn't your monkey.

Slowly, you approached the impostor with the branch high in the air, ready to strike, but when your makeshift weapon fell on his head, the only thing that met was his iron grip on the wooden surface, which was cracking under the pressure. Hi sighed, slowly turning around to meet your terrified gaze with his own bored one.

"Really? It was going so well." He passed a hand in his hair, scratching his fur without thinking about your struggle to free the branch. "Okay...remember that all of this...it's your own fault."

You didn't have enough time to question; the branch was ripped from your own grip and smashed on your head. Before everything became silent, you saw his brown fur turning white and two gleamy eyes burning holes in your head.

///

Once you woke up, you found yourself with your head hurting so much that you wanted to throw up. When you tried to touch your head, you found yourself incapacitated by some ropes that circled your torso and bound your wrists together. Even breathing was hard when you had a muzzle in your mouth, stopping you to scream or talk correctly.

Pinicking, you tried to move, but your injured head stinged you and forced you to stop after a few attempts. You started to panic more when you heard footsteps coming from behind the tree where you were lying. 

In front of you was a monkey, you guessed, but he was different. His fur was so white that it made him look more like a ghost; his long tail moved like a snake here and there. His piercing yellow eyes looked at you more like a nuisance than a captive that could suffer from a head trauma.

"I almost thought that I killed you. Well, better for me, it would be such a bother to wait for another Bián huá!"

He laughed it off, shrugging off the idea that he could have killed you. He tried to touch your face again, but you moved aside, disgusted. He seemed bored; he sat kneeled down in front of you, opting for a more civil way to discuss. As much as tied you up after knocking you down could be referred to as civil.

"Okay, listen up," he got closer. "I want to be nice and forgive you for your stunt. There, let's start from the beginning: I'm Liu'er Mihou! I was... well technically, I'm still the Six-Eared Macaque, just...a little broken!"

Your eyes widened after this information. No, he couldn't be! He was dead! Everybody knew that! Sun Wukong had killed him! But....broken? 

"Lemme guess, I should be dead, uh? Well, I was... in some way...Wukong too, right? But here we are!" He laughed again; to him, it was just a normal conversation, like talking with a guest. 

"Okay, let's talk business. As I said, I'm a little broken, but I can fix myself... but I need something that you and your friend have found."

He wanted the relic...but why?! You knew that could make someone stronger, but...

Wait...they said that the Macaque and Wukong were the reflections of each other...so if the relics were supposed to bring back the great sage...what could have happened if they were used for his shadow?

The thought made you shiver, and he saw it. You were intelligent; he liked that.

"So, you connected the dots, uh? ...good! Now we can tal-AHG!"

When his hand removed the muzzle, you took your chance to bite his hand so hard to draw some blood that you spilled immediately. He massaged his hand, acting more like he was bite by some mosquito, refusing to take you seriously again... In that moment, you felt the sharp sensation of his claw scoarching your face when his hand smacked you. The pain was so hard that you almost lost your breath, and the strength made you fall on your side, only to rise again when his hand grasped your jaw so hard that you felt your skull crush under it.

"You...have some guts; I like it...but I really don't want to rip off your jaw. So... I'll give one last chance. Help me or-"

"FUCK YOU, YOU PSYCHOPATH!"

This time, his eyes were beyond the simple annoyance. He had enough, and you didn't need to walk to come with him. Like before, you didn't even see the blow; you just heard the crack and the pain of your leg, now broken in two. Your scream was immediately strung in your mouth by his hand; he was far too annoyed by your antics, and he didn't have the intention to hear your cries either.

"See? All your fault. I don't have time for this, so..." Suddnely, he grabbed you by your hair, ignoring your cries and your lament, and your broken leg contorted in a sick angle.

"STOP! Let Me Go! PLEASE, YOU'RE HURTING ME!"

"Don't you dare complain; it's all your fault, you know? And please stop screaming; no one is coming to save you."

Suddenly, a rumble emerged from the depths of the forest, alongside a pair of red eyes and a giant mass of mussels and bristles black and strong as iron. The macaque had to lose the grip on your hair to not get invested by the fury of the boar, while the animal was able to grab you by the collar and start running faster than before.

"YOU DAMN PIG!"

You looked at that scary creature, realizing that you were never happier to see him than before. The voice of the macaque keeps echoing in the door, laughing.

"RUN AS MUCH AS YOU WANT DARLING; YOU WON'T ESCAPE ME FOR LONG!"

///

You gulped the wine in huge, big gulps, most likely to let the pain finally leave your body. Breaking up your leg was a kind of pain, but putting it together was the worst! Bajie massaged your shoulder, finishing to clean up your cheek.

"Easy, easy. You'll be able to walk for now."

You took a big breath only when you felt your leg stopping hurting. The blood started to flow again, causing a huge tingling, but it was better than before at least. You were lucky that Bajie was able to come in time; you were too afraid to think of what could have happened if you stayed longer with that monster.

"There...forgive me, Y/n I...UGH! I fell for his trap! ...I let him make this to you, and...hold on, where's the kid?!"

"I-I don't... I don't know." He helped you stand up, supporting you with his rifle. "I fear... I fear he had fallen too in one of his traps!"

"Damn, we can't stay here for too long. We must go before that...thing found us again!... What happened anyway?! Why did he attack you like this?!"

"I find out about his true identity..."

"YOU DID-" He almost dropped you but caught you immediately. "How?!"

"...promise to not freak out?"

"Hard to do, I'll try..."

"I felt it... I don't know how, but I did it! ....Am I crazy?"

At first, the pig seemed shocked... then started to laugh—a soft and kind laugh.

"No! No child! I think...you're a miracle! Back in the day, me and old Wukong needed the Buddha himself to find the truth about his true identity—and you just know! AH"

He patted your back gently and kindly. Your bond was able to defeat an ancient creature like the six-eared macaque—that was new! 

"Now...we must move. Let's put that connection of yours to the test to find where that impostor had hidden the destiny done!"

And so he took his beast form, allowing you to take a seat on his back. You held on to his fur, hoping to be in time.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan @lightlumi

@cleverfeststarlight @anfie01 @tunadunanana @jeminiikrystal @jssy96

[icarryitin]

Episode 38: Feels Like Fire

spencer reid/gn!reader

you didn’t think i was going to put spencer through all the canon awfulness and not stick reader in the hospital at least once did you???

series masterlist

word count: 1.6k // warnings: reader gets shot, hospital scenes, blood, Anxiety™️ from just about everyone but mostly Reid, an awful lot of inner monologuing that i refuse to apologise for, does the L bomb count if nobody says it out loud?

summary: Spencer’s worst fear comes to life, and he can’t do anything but watch.

Nobody expects a crime scene, taped off and crawling with cops, to be a hostile situation. The latest dump site is only about an hour old, its crowd of onlookers only growing. Even so, he’s not looking at you when it happens - Spencer doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not. He tells himself it is, that he’s graciously been spared the visual of your body hitting the ground. That’s the first lie.

Because, if he had been watching, he’d have been able to pinpoint exactly where the bullet came from.

The sound, though - that unmistakable crack through the air, flesh tearing, the thud of skin on concrete. Your gargling, gasps for breath against the blood filling your lungs will haunt his nightmares.

He isn’t the first to get to you, it’s Tara who’s on her knees in the street beside you with her hands pressing down on your ribcage to staunch the bleeding. Tara, who has known you just inside of one week, holds your life in her hands whilst Spencer can only stand by the hood of the SUV - reeling.

Is this how you’ve felt, every time it’s been him on the wrong end of a bullet?

No, he knows that’s not true. Every time he’s been the one to go down, you’ve jumped into action. Or gotten mad at him, one of the two. And yet, for all the complicated feelings he has for you, he’s paralysed. Because it’s you. Unshakeable, indestructible, you. This isn’t supposed to happen. It’s an EMT bustling past him that finally kicks his brain into gear, medpack knocking into his shoulder.

Oh god, this must be terrifying for you.

It’s only now that he remembers your fear of medical procedures, or even anything adjacent. Hell, you’ve made Spencer go to the dentist with you for moral support more than once. A request he’s happy to fulfill. Dentist, doctor, everything. But right now, EMTs are sticking you with needles and he’s not there. All the times you’ve swallowed that fear to be beside him on his worst days, and he’s not beside you on yours. That’s what gets his feet moving, what wakes up his legs and carries him over to kneel by your head as an oxygen mask is pulled over your face.

Your blood soaks into the knees of his trousers, but he barely notices the sudden warmth of it.

“You’ll be okay, you have to let them do their job. You have to let them save you. You won’t be alone,” He hopes he sounds more confident than he feels, as your eyes search his face from behind the mask - you’re looking for something, he isn’t sure what it is, so he gives you the only thing he can think of, “I promise.”

You seem satisfied enough, for a moment. And then your eyes roll back into your head, and he hears the word crashing, and a pair of hands shove him away from where you’re convulsing on the ground. One of the paramedics straddles you, his compressions so aggressive that Spencer is sure your ribs are breaking. Another, gentler, set of hands finds his shoulders, helps him up. It’s JJ. She’s saying something, something reassuring probably, but he can’t hear her for the blood rushing through his eardrums. Stuck in panic mode in this dump site turned crime scene - someone could shoot him right now and he isn’t sure he’d notice.

You’re back, for now, CPR paused long enough to slide the neon orange backboard beneath you and move you onto the gurney. You might be having the worst day of your life, but you still have a heartbeat. Though, they’re not slowing down. The chances of this day becoming your last are still sky high, surgery is the only thing that can save you now. He can only hope you stay out of it long enough for them to get you there - lest they have to drag you, kicking and screaming, into the OR.

“Reid,” Hotch’s voice pulls his attention from the paramedics bundling you into the back of the ambulance, pulls him back to planet earth, “Can you work?”

“Yes.”

There it is, the second lie.

No, no he cannot work. Oh, there’s a part of him that wants to. But, then again, there’s a part of him that was loaded into an ambulance on blue lights and sirens. He barely makes it an hour before somebody has to speak up.

“Spencer, no offence, but you’re useless right now. Why don’t you go to the hospital, keep us updated?”

It’s true, but it hurts his pride a little to know that he’s not as subtle as he thinks. The supportive hand that Dave settles on his shoulder is enough to have his eyes stinging - Spencer wiggles out of the fatherly grip. He’ll go, it makes sense to have a presence when one of their own is down. That’s what he says. Everybody knows what he means.

“I should be listed as the emergency contact, Doctor Spencer Reid?” He’s muttering as he pulls out his wallet, dumping every form of identification he has on the desk. Driving license, credit card, FBI credentials, his goddamn library card. The receptionist picks out his driving license with a sympathetic little smile, it’s clear she’s trying to calm at least some of his anxiety with her even tone as she confirms someone will be through to speak to him soon. It doesn’t help.

You looked dead, lying on the wet concrete, blood turning the puddle beside you a murky brown. Somebody would have told him if that were true. No, you must be alive. The reason nobody’s out here to speak to him means that they’re still all in the OR saving your life. Right? Hoping is dangerous, but hope he does.

Spencer has been shot, more than once. He understands the pain - the sudden ripping, tearing, excruciating sensation that sweeps over you. It doesn’t matter where the bullet hits, your whole body gets consumed by fire. He could have lived his whole life without you knowing what it feels like.

But for now, he just exists in this horrible limbo - a place where you are both alive and dead and he feels like he’s the one bleeding out on the cold concrete. He hates it, hates it. And it doesn’t matter, ultimately, that he knows you’re more than likely not making it off the table; because until somebody tells him as much, that flickering glimmer of hope that you’ll be okay will simply not go out.

There was just so much blood.

Spencer doesn’t often pray. He understands the need some might feel, the idea of faith in a higher power and a bigger plan to avoid going completely insane in an unbound universe. But he has never really felt the need. A man of science and infallible knowledge, he knows that things will work out however they please and that neither he nor anyone else - deity or otherwise - can do anything to change it. But he prays now. The same request, over and over again, in his mind. Shaky elbows resting on shaky knees, shaky hands clasped together.

Please be okay.

Please be okay.

I love you. I’m so afraid of it.

Please be okay.

He doesn’t stop praying for hours. Not when the surgeons come out to speak with him. Not when he calls Morgan to update the team, not when he stumbles blindly after a nurse down the hallways. Not when he slumps in the chair beside your bed, and not when he grasps your cold hand in both of his.

“Lousy shot.” Your voice is hoarse, but it’s there. You’re there.

“What was that?” Spencer heard you, he always does, but the anxiety still coursing through his veins needs to hear you speak again - if only to make sure he isn’t hallucinating.

“I said he was a lousy shot,” You repeat, clearing your throat as you crack your eyes open against the bright white of the hospital room, “If you’re gonna kill me, kill me, don’t half ass it.”

You argue with him when the nurse comes in, the request to withdraw all narcotic medication raises every set of eyebrows in the room - except yours. You’re adamant about keeping a promise to a friend, you know it’ll hurt, you’re ready. And the look you give Spencer, when he suggests that your friend might let this one slide, could turn anybody to stone. Stubborn as a mule. It’s one of his favourite things about you. Well, it is when you’re not wincing with every breath you take.

“Don’t get shot again.” It’s been quiet for a little while, his hands still cradling yours. He squeezes your fingers as much as he dares with his whispered words.

“Can’t promise that, sweetheart, bit of an occupational hazard.”

It’s the first smile to crack his lips since the drive out to the dump site this morning. Or maybe it was yesterday morning now; he’s not sure. A callback to a dumb joke he once made, the first time he was the one laid up in a hospital bed with a bullet wound.

There’s a moment, where there’s something else to say. You both know what it is, but neither of you can let it break containment. So you let it hang there in the air between you. The way it has for years, maybe the way it always will. Until one of you, at least, gets brave enough.

And then Penelope appears in the doorway, misty eyed and flanked by the others in a swarm of Get Well balloons, and it’s gone. Floated out of the window on a cool breeze. Not forever, just until you’re both ready. But you know, and he knows, and so does everybody else.

every time i have to change my work password i just use the long form date that i changed it and now i have to write the day my fav f1 driver got sacked every morning for the next 6 months this is so much fun

[yandere-sins]

Yan-Poll #26

"Back off, bloodsucker, they're mine!"

You wanted to protest, but your words were cut off by squeals of pain as the monster's claws buried in your hair. You reached up, digging your meager nails into the fur-covered paws of the werewolf. They were no threat to the beast, yet you drove them as deeply as possible into his flesh in the hopes he'd let go.

How could it have come to this, you wondered, tears brimming in your eyes as you recalled the last few weeks. First, your long-term partner left you, so your friends suggested this trip to an old camping ground near a "haunted" mansion to get the edge off. And then you had been the only one who didn't hear how people fled the scene while you were knocked out from exhaustion, putting you into this situation.

You glanced over to the other figure that stood in the courtyard serving as camping grounds with you. Their paled skin shone in the moonlight, almost glistening, but the sight of their fangs protruding from their lips as they grinned, catching your eyes on them, made your neck ache, the blood slowly drying up from where they had bitten you in your sleep.

This other nightmare, a werewolf, had come just in time to pry them off you, and you awoke to the scuffle, realizing you were the last human left. But when you tried to run, the wolf had come after you, catching up and bringing you down to your knees with his overwhelming strength.

"And you are being so rough with them like a true monster. Look, they are already crying."

Waving their hand at you, the vampire pointed out your obvious discomfort, and the werewolf's eyes fell down, tearing away from his arch-nemesis and meeting yours briefly. You whimpered as they reflexively tightened their grip as they watched you cry. You wanted to take this chance, but the pain briefly robbed you of your senses before you could speak.

"P-Please," you whimpered. "Please just let me go..."

The werewolf growled lightly in discontent, getting down on one knee next to you. His hand fell from your hair to your back, brushing over it comfortingly, and you sobbed as the pain of being released hit you. You didn't feel soothed with the werewolf's claws repeatedly getting stuck on your clothes, chipping away at your only defense barrier.

"I didn't know... I'm so sorry for trespassing!"

Honestly, no one could have known this forest was the home of monsters. It still felt like a prank rather than reality. But it hurt even more, knowing your friends would leave you behind to fend for yourself like this. What good arguments did you have to make them keep you alive? How could you convince them to let you go?

"How about..." the vampire mused out loud, avoiding their eyes for just a moment to think. But when they looked back, you felt intimidated by their gaze, the deep red shining through even the darkness piercing into you. "We let them decide who to go with?"

A menacing smile crept over their lips, and you hugged yourself to shy away from the threat in their stare. Choosing between them? That seemed like a bad idea, almost as much as not choosing and letting them battle it out...

"You can choose the wolf and be dragged to his cave, where he'll tear you to shreds while he rampages every night. And the breeding season is near. If you make it that far, I'm not sure you'll survive that massacre."

"Or you stay with the bloodsucker," the werewolf growled, glaring at the vampire. "You won't even last one day before they empty you of your blood and life. Might wine and dine you first so you are proper lamb to slaughter, but your "friends" won't even recognize your body when they're done slurping your blood after hours of struggling and crying."

Gulping, you recognized the exaggeration in their words. Their dislike for each other was obvious, but from what you knew about these creatures, you didn't doubt the seriousness of their accusations. Accidentally or not, the werewolf was likely to hurt you—one way or another. It could last a lifetime unless you managed to escape, while your days were numbered with the vampire. They wouldn't keep you for as long as you could supply them with blood, would they? Even if they didn't do it that very night, you'd live in fear until they decided it was time, only for the torture to continue until your last breath.

You wanted neither.

You wanted to live.

This trip was not supposed to be your last one, and you wanted to continue living, no matter what. But how? How could you convince them? Convince them to keep you around at least long enough to try and escape. You thought long and hard. The werewolf's tail was like a whip, impatiently hitting the ground. But neither he nor the ever-smiling vampire, knowing he had all the time in the world, interrupted you, this challenge going beyond the worth of your life. It was a battle of dominance, one they both wanted to win. They wanted to be chosen by you, to have all the rights to you.

Thus, you thought, wrecking your head around the possibilities before you chose wrong.

[shadowdarlings]

Rain and Redemption

Tamlin x Reader

Synopsis : After fleeing your home in the Court of Nightmares you seek refuge in the wild and unattended lands of the Spring Court. You are certain that you will remain unnoticed and can finally begin living a free life. After a year alone in the feral woods of Spring you stumble upon a most surprising beast, one who had been rumored lost forever.

Pairings : TamlinxReader

a/n : this one is for my tamlin girlies! i’m so excited to write this piece and i hope you guys enjoy. don’t get me wrong i love all my other acotar men but he’s been lingering in my mind lately. slight rhys slander but nothing that isn’t true <3 (i still love him pls do not demolish me in the comments)

Warnings : mentions of cruelty and torture, suggestiveness, tamlin being possessive (but in a good way)

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The forest crawled with many creatures. Some were benevolent while others sought flesh and blood. A year in the Spring woodlands had taught you much; survival chiefly, but it had also shown you strength from within that you had not known was there. The wherewithal to remain largely unscathed in such a dangerous environment was not cheap. Yet the perils of the forest did not compare to the cruelty of your home. You’d fled from the Court of Nightmares just over a year ago and headed straight for the Spring Court. Your plan to escape had been neatly designed. After the war with Hybern you knew that the southern territory was largely abandoned by its High Lord and sneaking into its territories would be your best bet at remaining hidden from your family and from the High Lord that ruled over them.

Over the years you had grown to detest the High Lord of the Night Court. His backwards notions of ruling fairly would have been laughable if they had not cost you so much. His love for the City of Starlight had left you and your people completely disregarded. Mostly left to manage yourselves, cruelty and violence soaked into the hearts of those who resided within the mountain. The reputation of your court was enough for Rhysand to deem all of you little more than the dirt under his finely crafted boots. After 50 years of growing up in such circumstances you’d had enough. Perhaps one day you’d return to uplift your people, to tell the pompous Lord exactly what his arrogance and misplaced judgment had cost you all. For now, you sat upon a moss covered log and removed your leather pack.

It had been a long day of traveling. Recent naga attacks had driven you from your previous shelter and further into the dense woods. The afternoon sun was quickly setting and you’d need to find new lodging before it slipped beneath the horizon. Taking account of your provisions, you deemed it safe enough to take a large swig from the water canteen stored in your pouch. After twisting the cap back on tightly, you shrugged on your pack and set off again to find a place to sleep.

It did not take long until you found a cave hidden amongst the brush and trees. Pulling back a branch you entered and surveyed the dimly lit cavern. Aside from a few discarded animal bones it seemed largely unoccupied. Whomever had been here before was long gone by your observation. Deeming it fit for the night you began preparing to settle and sleep. The latter caught up to you before you knew it, the fatigue of traveling getting the better of you. You slept hard and heavy until a crunch from just outside the cave jolted you awake. Flinging your eyes open you scanned the entrance to find a hulking shadow of a creature peering in. There was not enough light to reveal the nature of this being, as you had not started a fire in an effort to remain unseen. The giant figure took a step forward and you slammed your eyes shut, heart racing. Slowly and silently you reached for the dagger strapped to your hip but did not unsheathe it yet. Taking slow steadying breaths you monitored the creatures movements with only your sense of hearing. It seemed to take two tight circles and flop onto the ground, as if it too were exhausted. Daring to peek one eye open you confirmed your suspicions and saw the shadow of the massive thing taking deep, slumberous breaths as if it had paid you no mind whatsoever. Loosing out a silent sigh you thanked the mother for whatever amnesty she had granted until your lids grew heavy once more and sleep reclaimed you wholly.

Your eyes did not reopen until dawn cracked through the leaves and streamed into the cave. You moved a hand to shade your eyes from the light and slowly blinked them open. It was then you remembered you had not slept alone last night. Your gaze landed onto what seemed to be an oversized wolf curled up on the rock floor not three feet away from you. Your heart began its quickened pace once more as you silently turned away from it to sling your pack across your head and shoulder. Standing as quietly as you could you braced yourself to turn back around and make your escape. Yet when you faced the creature once more it was already on four giant paws, its eyes locked onto you. You sucked in a silent scream and took a step backwards against the wall of the cave, flattening your palms along the cool rock. Your eyes had locked onto a fierce pair of green ones that seemed to bore into your very soul. Quickly remembering what you had learned you averted your eyes and looked down at the ground. Ever so slowly you shrank down the wall until you had come into a full crouch. You had long since figured out that if you could not best something it was better to make yourself small and hope it would deem you unworthy of its time.

Yet the wolf took a step forward, and then another. Out of your peripheral vision you could tell it was lowering its massive head towards you. It took two long inhales then nudged forward once more. You knew it was foolish but you couldn’t help your curiosity as you lifted your head to gaze at the beast once more. Its emerald eyes were locked onto yours, almost as if it were a conscious being. You didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. It shifted once more, this time onto its hind legs to sit and then again to lay its enormous body down in front of you. Then as if trying to convey its docile nature the wolf let out a quiet whine. You weren’t entirely sure this was all real. It must have devoured you whole and you were now in the midst of some delusion brought on by death. Yet your heart continued to beat rapidly and your lungs still drew in panicked breaths. The wolf had not broken its eye contact and now looked up at you from its lying position.

Deeming your situation already lethal you cast your better judgment to the wind and let out a whisper. “Hello,” you said to the beast. It cocked its head slightly as if in greeting and curiosity. “I’m sorry I invaded your cave,” you said trying to tame the shaking in your voice, “I didn’t know it was occupied.” The wolf lifted its head ever so slightly and parted its giant mouth to reveal dagger like canines. “You invaded more than my cave, little nightingale,” it rumbled in a voice so deep it rattled your bones.

You were sure now that you were hallucinating. Your face was the picture of pure shock as you beheld the speaking creature. You sputtered and stammered, reaching for something to say. “You speak?” was all you could squeak out. The wolf remained lying down but lifted its head an inch further. “Yes,” it replied in that thick tenor. You managed the courage to straighten slightly and surveyed its lethal figure. The matted coat, the pronged horns that crowned its head, the striking green eyes that observed you in turn. It clicked just then. “You’re Tamlin,” you said, not exactly a question. The wolf blinked once, twice. “Yes,” he replied once more. You couldn’t believe it. You had heard the tales of a fallen High Lord who had bound himself to his beast form and hidden away in the woods. You’d just never expected to behold him, let alone engage in conversation with him.

You stumbled for your words again but managed to get out, “I- I’m sorry for intruding. On your cave and your lands. I needed…” Your ability to articulate a sentence evaded you entirely as you beheld him. “It is no matter to me,” he spoke, “not anymore.” There was a deep sadness that dripped off his words and you felt a tear in your chest. Without your permission, your body moved your hand up and onto Tamlin’s fur coated head. Your fingers threaded into the soft fleece and rested there for a moment. He stayed completely still. It took a few heartbeats to realize what you had done, what you were still doing. You retracted your hand, choking out an apology. Tamlin did not deign to respond. Instead he lowered his head back down and this time laid it right into your lap.

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He must be out of his mind, he thought. Yet he could not tear himself away from your gentle touch as you once again began your exploration of his fur. How long had it been since he had been touched? How long had it been since he had even seen another conscious life form? He breathed in your scent, that of lilies and hyacinths. It was polluted with the smell of the forest and survival. He had noted your thin figure before closing his eyes and relishing your touch. He noticed the dirty clothes, the grime under your nails, and the tangles in your hair that made you look wild and untamed. He pondered your presence in the Spring Court as you moved your hand to caress the other side of his head. He knew he should kill you. What other reason would a Night Court citizen be doing in his lands other than to spy and destroy him further. The thought had him opening his eyes once more, but he did not move from under your touch. “Why, little nightingale, have you come to my lands?” he grumbled softly. The sigh that escaped your lips was a heavenly sound. “I could not stand another minute in that court,” you responded to him continuing your exploration across his fur. He contemplated your words before prodding again, “But why come here of all places?” He watched you consider his question from his position on your lap until you let out a small laugh and said, “It’s the only place where I felt I would be safe.”

Something that had been long asleep in him awoke at your response. Here? Safe? With him? After everything that had happened in the last 53 years under Amarantha’s reign, the war with Hybern, and destruction of his court he could not fathom that anyone in all of Prythian could possibly feel safe here. “These woodlands are not safe, nightingale,” he said. You snorted in response to his implication. “I don’t know, my Lord, I’ve faired quite well this past year. Still all in one piece, see?” You removed your hand from his fur to gesture to your own figure. He immediately missed the feeling of your touch. It took a great deal of restraint not to nuzzle your hand back to its original place on him.

Instead he rose from your lap and stood to his full height, his head barely grazing the top of the cavern ceiling. You rose with him wringing your hands at his size. “You’re not safe here,” he repeated, “come.”

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A command. One that reverberated through you to your very core. You did not hesitate to follow him out of the cave and into a clearing beyond the brush. “Climb up,” he instructed. You paused only a moment until you realized he meant for you to ride atop his back. He lowered himself ever so slightly as you hiked yourself into his massive wolf form. “Hold on, little nightingale,” he commanded once more before beginning a slow trot away from your shared cave.

The trek had been mostly contended silence. The two of you only spoke in question and response when the curiosity became too much.

“Why did you leave home?” he asked.

“I grew wary of the cruelty of home and the misjudgments of my High Lord,” you answered.

“Why have you disappeared for so long?” you asked.

“I am not fit to be a ruler at present,” he responded.

The hike had been a few hours long until you broke from the cover of the forest into an expansive clearing with endless rolling hills. The grasses had overgrown and if you hadn’t been astride on his back your figure would surely disappear into the thickets. He continued his pace as he came upon a behemoth of a building. Its size was dazzling but its condition was ruinous. Vines had almost completely overtaken the walls, creeping into shattered windows. The gardens surrounding the manor were in complete disarray, growing this way and that. He stepped over the overgrowth with his giant paws and took you up a grand staircase leading to two massive wooden doors. Gently he nudged them open with his snout and stepped foot in the place he once called home.

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He didn’t know exactly how long it had been since he had been to the manor. Before this morning he’d had no intentions of returning any time soon. He was not worthy to reside here, not worthy to call himself High Lord. The ruin he had left it in had his ego twisting from embarrassment, but he had to get her to safety. He did not know where the urge had come from, did not understand his draw to this intruder. It had been a long time since he’d had a task, a purpose. While the feeling was still foreign it was anything but unwelcome. He lowered himself once more once the two of you were safely inside and relished once more the feeling of your touch before you slid off his back and onto the marble entryway flooring. Tamlin observed as you marveled at the interior. Your eyes ravenous, soaking up every inch of this new environment. “It’s horrendous, I know,” he spoke lowly, “but you will be safe here. Safer than in those woods by yourself.” You turned your too thin figure toward him and spoke, “It’s marvelous.” He pushed down the small hint of excitement at your words and simply said “You can wash up and change clothes in the third room to the left past the dining room. I will find something to eat for the night.” With that, he turned and stepped outside the manor once more with a new task in his mind.

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You followed his instruction, finding a room that was mostly untouched by claw marks and destruction. Although dust had settled upon almost every surface, it was nice to be sheltered by four walls again. The room you entered was clearly meant for visiting courtiers, with a four poster bed, a generous armoire, a tall looking glass, and connected was a spacious bathing room. The stale air in the room was unfamiliar as you had grown accustomed to fresh air and gentle spring breezes. Your first order of business was to pry open the ornate window across the room. Your second order of business was to strip completely nude and fill the giant tub with enough water to wash a bear. The spout shot out a few violent buckets of water before finally clearing the air from its pipes and finding a steady stream. As the tub filled you nosed into the cabinets to find a few bottles of soap and oils. Sure they were a few years old, but it was better than lakes and creek water. You savored the warmth of your bath as it relaxed tense muscles and lulled you into bliss. It was only when the water grew chilled that you pulled yourself out and searched for any clothing to don before the High Lord returned from his hunt. You’d found little in terms of prudence but the silk nightdress would work for the evening. It had been a long time since you’d thought about such courtly things as how much skin was showing. Growing bored in the chamber waiting for Tamlin you walked into the main hall and began exploring.

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He strode into the manor as silently as he could. Tamlin held the dead deer in his lethal jaws and gently set it on the black and white marble before shifting into his fae form. It felt unfamiliar to stand on two legs instead of four. His shrugged off his discomfort and headed straight for his abandoned quarters to find something to dress in. The last thing he needed was you stumbling upon his naked, dirt covered figure. Tamlin made quick work of putting on bland pants and a light tunic. He didn’t even bother buttoning it completely before making his way to the room he’d directed you towards. He knocked once at your door and heard nothing. He started to call out your name then quickly realized you had not yet given it to him. Knocking once more he paused, listening for a sign of you behind the door. More silence. He pushed open the door and saw that you were not there. After looking in the bathing room to find it empty as well his heart began to quicken. It was happening again. How could he have been such a fool? Of course you wouldn’t want to stay here. Who would? His estate was in complete shambles and he himself was no better. His breathing was erratic, his chest pumping up and down as he began his downward spiral. Then he heard a sound. His head snapped toward the door as he heard a melancholy music coming from elsewhere in the manor. He followed the melody to where he found you sitting in front of the grand pianoforte. The keys were out of tune, but the quiet song was still lovely. He could do nothing but stand and stare in utter shock that not only had you stayed, but you were freshly dressed in Spring Court attire and playing music in his home. He watched as your hands traveled gracefully upon the ivories. The sound of your song was like a breath of life into the tomb of the manor. His state of silent admiration was only interrupted by the end of your song. You let out a content sigh and rose from the bench, turning and meeting his eyes.

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The sight of him. You had not yet known the High Lord of Spring in his fae form. He was utterly gorgeous. Your eyes devoured him as if they were starved. His tunic was unbuttoned and revealed a generous portion of his muscled chest. It was then you remembered the thin nightgown you had thoughtlessly wrapped yourself in. You knew he was fae, but his wolf form had almost made you forget that he was also a male. A beautiful, stunning male. You quickly tore your eyes from him and found a spot on the ground to study as you greeted him, “My Lord.” He let out a breath as if he’d been holding it, “My Lady.” Your eyes flicked up to his at that. A faint smile ghosted his lips and his face was the picture of relief. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, I got bored waiting for your return.” He let out a quiet laugh and took a few steps to approach you. “That’s quite alright, little nightingale, I’m just happy to see that you’re still here.” It was your turn to laugh. What a ridiculous comment! Through a snort you said, “Where else would I go?” His smile grew and he offered you his hand. “Good point. I found us something to eat. Care to join me?” You stepped forward to meet him, his towering figure and scent overwhelming your senses. Yet you took his hand and returned the smile, gazing up at him. “I would love nothing more.”

[pennyserenade]

devil in his heart | jackson rippner x reader

summary | after finding out your long-time boyfriend's real occupation, you have to grapple with who he really is. rating | (explicit) tags/warnings | 18+, dark, dubcon (bordering on noncon), smut, explicit smut, fingering, degradation, violence word count | 1.9k+ a/n | i honest to god don't know what possessed me, but we are all grown ups here. read with caution! enjoy! love ya! also: i wrote this to devil in his heart by the donays and he's got the power by the exciters, if you're interested in a soundtrack. not beta'd

Truth be told, this is the best game of cat and mouse he's had in years, and he doesn't like that it's ending so soon.

As he gets on your level, crouching near your slumped form, Jackson almost feels a little sorry that you couldn't win. It's not that you weren't witty enough--you were. It's just that, well, he's better. This reminds him of when he was ten and had wanted to go to space only to figure out when he was twelve that he was too scared of the vastness of the galaxy. Some things are just out of reach, too good to be true. He mourns it all the same.

His fingers tenderly push back sweat soaked strands of hair from your face. You look up at him, blurry-eyed, but still so resolute--lips thinned, smoldering with anger. God. He swipes a finger across your lip just to know what it feels like, and likes it better for the fact that you jerk away so aggressively that you knock your head back into the wall.

His tongue clicks. "You should've known, after following me all those weeks, that I'm good at this."

Jackson wraps his fingers tightly around your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You give in, mostly because you have so little energy to protest. His eyes look ominously glacial, lit up only by the moonlight cascading in from the window.

You look down at his lips; the flesh there is still swollen, broken from the harsh swing of your elbow earlier in the night. His tongue spears out to feel at the area. "You're a sloppy assassin, baby. My blood's all over this goddamn place. All over you--" he gestures down to your simple white tee shirt, which has been made dirty with dirt, sweat, blood. You don't care. You feel dizzy and half-scared to pass out, to even think of it, because you've never seen him look quite like this.

You think back to that first time you met him, how he had seemed so polite. He was traveling by train to visit his folks back home for Christmas (he said things like 'folks' in a crisp Midwestern accent, for God's sake). He had said he worked in life insurance policy, which made you laugh and caused him to say, "I know, I know--ironic, Jack Rippner dealing out life insurance." You had thought it was ironic. It is: ironically cruel.

He buys his ties from GAP, his dress shirts from Macy's, likes EggNog and celebrates the fourth of July with as much enthusiasm as any plain, good-hearted American man can.

He’s met your mother; he loves her breadsticks.

You spit on him. It takes the very last of your strength, but it's worth it to see the way his eyes ignite. His hand wipes it off, thumb running through the saliva on his fingers as his lips purse. "You know," he begins, voice eerily calm, "I always thought we'd make good parents. God knows we've come close to it enough times. You just can't help but beg for my cum in you, the slut you are." He chuckles darkly. "I always imagined that you'd be the good cop and I'd be the bad one."

Jackson pushes your head back into the wall, propping you there, almost choking you, but not quite. You let out a deep, wavering breath. He smirks. "But I see that's not the case now, is it? You don't seem to like very much when I play with my food before I eat it, do you?" His fingers press against your lips again, saliva coated. You let him. "Here I thought, all along, 'my baby's a goddamn pacifist. She didn't even like fishing!' It kept me up at night, the idea of you finding out what I did. But look at you!" His thumb tenderly strokes your neck, moving around a mysterious fluid--could be your blood, his blood, spit, water, anything. "I think if I reached between your legs now, you'd be soaked."

You choke out a sound of protest, wiggling beneath his gasp. He tuts, his fingers digging more tightly into your throat. For a brief moment, you can’t breathe. You find enough strength to claw at his hand, to widen your eyes and plead.

“C’mon, you’ll like this. You always do.” He loosens his grip on your neck.

As you gasp for air, Jackson knocks your legs apart. It doesn’t take much effort to get your cunt—you’d foolishly made the mistake of wearing a dress today—and he hums in delight when his fingers reach past your cotton underwear, confirming what he suspected to be true. His lips form into a mocking pout as your eyes begin to well with tears. It's not fear—you’re beyond that. It’s anger. The betrayal of this curdles inside you, eating you alive. Your eyes fill with ire.

“Don’t be that way,” he shakes his head, softening a degree. He holds your chin between his fingers again, the other hand rubbing wide circles over your clit. “I’m not going to kill you. How could I? I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you, truth be told, but it’s not that.”

Your hips jerk involuntarily, causing him to growl. “That’s the spirit, kitten. When you hit me earlier, I thought—after, of course, 'God she’s a bitch!’—that you might be a good asset. I know you’ve got a lot of morals holding you back right now, so I figure I’ll let you do the easy work at first. Let you think you’re doing some good in the world.” He presses down on your clit, his touch more intent, more focused. You squirm, hating the way he knows that you like it like this.

His fingers slip down into your cunt, wetting them. “Fuck, you’re soaking. If this is how you get when we do this, you might just reform me. I’m not opposed. We—“ he reattaches his fingers to your cunt. You whine, arching into his touch.“—could do good work. I freelance, if you couldn’t tell already. Though I’m sure you can. You’re a thorough investigator when you want to be. That’ll be helpful, too.”

Jackson picks up his pace, swallowing as he stares down at your lap. He can’t see anything, his hand hidden beneath the fabric of the dress and your underwear, but it seems to thrill him all the same. You too, admittedly.

“I—I couldn’t,” you retort, biting at your lip. “You—you kill!”

“Don’t be such a prude,” he deadpans. “It’s political assassinations and occasionally, though very rarely, an innocent bystander. And I do my best to make sure those cases are few and far between. I do.” He presses down more intently, watching with delight as you squirm, trying not to cum. “Oh, go on. It’s just you and me here. No one’s gonna know except me, and I won’t tell anyone. I’m good with secrets. You know that now.”

He’s near exultant, talking to you about this. The pitch of his voice is higher, and he’s looking at you like he’s won a prize of the highest degree. You’d spit on him again if he wasn’t making you feel so goddamn good.

“I won’t do it,” you shake your head firmly. Jackson takes the opportunity to slip a finger in your cunt, to press in and show you how much he has always—will always—know you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll bite,” he soothes, entering another. It’s a squeeze, but a welcome one, especially when he begins to thrust them against the spongy surface of your walls. Your toes curl, and you hate him, hate him violently. “If you want me to be rough, you really only have to ask, but since you like this game so much we’ll play it.”

As he fingers you, he begins to palm your clit. The sensation is overwhelming. Tears cascade down your face and he leans forward, licking them from your lips. The warmth of the orgasm rises in you alarmingly quick, his fingers deftly touching the inside of you, his palm lining with your clit each time you rut involuntarily. Your body knows him. It trusts him. He knows it.

The orgasm licks through you like a goddamn flame, igniting everything and leaving it all worse for it. When you cry out, Jackson smirks, so fucking pleased. But he doesn’t stop. He goes on, rubbing down harder, thrusting in quicker, until you’re wiggling beneath him.

“Please!” you say, trying to move his hand away.

He’s resolute. “No can do, honey. You’ve been a naughty girl, indulgent in the worst way. Gluttony is a sin, and I've been good–I’ve never punished you for it before–but you’ve hurt my feelings now.”

He slides in a third finger, his crystal eyes dark in the shadows. You feel impossibly full, and on the brink of another orgasm. You whine out. He knocks your head back into the wall with force. It doesn’t take your breath away, but it stuns you to silence. “That’ll be enough of that. This is for me now, got it? Getting you all wet so my cock will fit in that tight cunt of yours. Want you to hear it, your pussy taking me.”

As if to prove a point, he thrusts in again, and you do hear it—the way your body allows him in. An obscene squelch. You bite your lip, feel more tears fall down your cheeks.

“Jackson—“ you plead. You’re tired, achy, terribly confused. He works you open so well. You can smell the sour sweet smell of his body odor. You love it. You cannot help it. Your body trusted this man for so long. Still does.

You fool, you tell yourself, before your body gives way to his will again—you collapse into him, screaming out a silent whimper as the orgasm makes you convulse.

“That’s it,” he encourages, not stopping. “Be good for me. If you’re good, we’ll make this enterprise into a family business. If you’re bad—well, we’ll just have to make this our life, won’t we? You all weak, me with all the power. I don’t think you’ll like it, but you understand, it’s how it must be done if you don’t obey.”

He sighs, as if it’s putting him out too.

You know he’s serious. What’s worse is you know he’s right: that you won’t like it, that he’ll get his way eventually.

When you give in, he knows immediately, lips quirking up into a smirk.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, pressing his lips to your temple. “I always knew you had it in you a little. You were always such a whore for me. I’m happy it worked out so well for us both. Now–” He pushes your legs further apart, moving in with his own hips. “Let’s play your most favorite game. It’s longer, requires more patience, but I like it just as much as you do.”

The jingle of his belt buckle makes a shot of fear, mixed with arousal, shoot up your spine. You think: God, no.

He laughs darkly. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve been making sure you’ve been taking your birth control. I’m not really ready for that, either. It’s just the idea that thrills you, isn’t it anyway? And that smallest, tiniest chance that it could happen.” He smirks, loosening his belt. His fingers exit you, leaving you empty, feeling scandalized and ruined. Jackson rubs them on the cloth of your dress, uncaring.

“I hate you,” you spit out, venom lacing your words.

He looks thoroughly amused as he releases his weeping cock from his underwear. “No you don’t. You’re just ashamed of yourself. But fear not–” he wipes a tear off your face, “--when we’re done here, you’ll be glad for this. Just remember, baby, that I’m on your side.”

[shinjisdone]

*sigh* that time of the year again where I brielfy obsess over Alucard from hellsing ah shit here we go again

Random Alucard thoughts (also he is totally yandere)

TW: Huge yandere behavior, mentions of murder, torture, vampirism, blood, extreme possessiveness, obsession, crossing boundaries, belittling, mind games, Alucard fully sees himself as your monster, hints at Alucard's true identity and past, everything is in random order according to my brainrot

Vlad "Alucard" Tepeş is 100%, absolutely, with zero doubt a Yandere. It's proven, it's real, he is one, do not argue with me look at him from any angle, it is yandere.

He had long embraced the title and flesh of a monster. He is selfish, twisted and full of bloodlust. His life as a true vampire consists of short bursts of pleasure, of getting that kick of almost being killed. Battling with a "man" who can kill a "monster". Yet he is so powerful that no one can come close to put him in his well-deserving grave. A shame.

Besides Integra and Seras, its the only thing he lives for. To meet the end by the hands of a human.

Hence why he, ironically, is very drawn to humans and humanity in general.

He respects bravery, wit and the want to be human and stay so no matter what. A steadfast knowledge of who you are. So you'd have to have all that for him to pay positive attention to you.

He has seen and lived through the worst of it. Not once a taste of love or kindness but only the wretched side of humanity that it can offer.

He can offer it all back...but not love. For love is pure and good and he is not and never was. Love is for humans. Monsters can only "love" in much darker ways...

And if you are the one thing that intruiges him so much, he might smother you in his twisted love.

Of course, you do not need to be a mortal to become his obsession. But for the sake of diving into his psyche, to really see how....unhinged this creature is, let us go with that 👀

A creature of the night is always interested in humans. How one particurarly thinks and acts, what they believe in, whether they have cowardice or courage in their hearts. Many are the same but a lot of them prove themselves to be more and worthy of his attention.

You'd have to have something to begin that spark of interest. Power, knowledge, strength of character whatever it is, it should be enough to interest a vampire but not deter him away from you from striving away from your humanity. Casting it aside makes you a fool in his eyes.

Then - there has to be that humanity inside you. Not the ugly and candid one he knew all his life as a count but this...fleeing beauty. The seldom joy and kindness. Love for another being all because you simply chose to.

Not because this person fought for your love, sacrificed for your love, impaled your enemies - but because you chose to share love.

How human.

Interesting yet...perhaps weak. Or is it strength? Can you cast it all aside when you do gain enemies that want your head?

Besides, when you are in Hellsing, you do tend to be messed up. Integra, Seras and Walter are no different in their own way and how can you still carry an ounce of selflessness in a place like this with how you are? Can you be selfless when you fight?

A part of him wants you to succumb to the rage, this oh so human rage but...once you cave, it is hard to get back up. Alucard would rather have you stay the way you are.

The beginning is slow but already startling...

The longer he watches, the more intriguied he becomes. And once this humanity of yours touches him, it is all over.

With Integra, he is loyal. With Seras, he is patient. Both women have gained his respect through their courage and boldness, as well as their will power for what they believe in.

But you? You have nothing to gain from the Hellsing hound. If he wanted you dead, you'd be so long ago. You are already protected from his power (as long as Integra says so and Seras is not endangered) so what do you think you are doing, little human, sharing an ounce of love with him?

Don't you know that monsters cannot love?

Yet still, he feels a tightness in his chest. There, deep within where his heart is supposed to reside, is a dark yet darker, deep yet deeper black hole, an abyss of all that he is now as Alucard - still, the tightness is there and slowly spreads through his limbs as warmth.

It is different than the bolts of bloodlust that spark and jolt within him. It is slower and graduate. Calm like the sea in the morning fog. It is so interesting that he allows himself to indulge in more.

You foolish human.

You will see the error of your ways. Will see how this creature of the night's darkness will twist and turn into an admiration that is sick, an infatuation that looks down on you yet worhsips you at the same time, an adoration that is deadly. Love does not exist within the being that is called Alucard. It is too pure and good for a monster like him.

Know that it will take a long and enduring time for something like that to blossom. But if your actions are consistent, it will certainly happen - your doom.

It begins mellowly.

His constant presence when allowed to have some free time, the unblinking gaze and the everlasting smile. Alucard always smiles around you.

He tends to talk a lot more with you. Asking you questions of your views to gain more and more knowledge about you, to understand you as a human and how you tick. He greedily sucks in any kind of information that makes you, you. The mortal he fell for.

For you are simply too fascinating not to know more of.

It happens through interrupting your own free time, your privacy (he just goes through the walls) and your boundaries. He doesn't mean any harm, quite the opposite, so why do you become so hostile?

Are you not on the same side as Hellsing?

In battle, he enjoys protecting you. As if it was a hard task or would get in the way of the objective - putting a bullet through a threat or biting their head off is easy and fun. He's keeping you, his favorite and most interesting mortal, safe. He can't have you killed, for who else is as unique as you and could ever replace you?

It's gruesome and he shows no remorse in how you feel on such a vile display. He will not ever admit it but his actions speak louder than words and you will notice, very soon, that he focuses a lot on your safety - while gleefully slaughtering so-called "dogs".

Any kind of acts of love are your doom...

It is only when you act so humanely even further with him that things go down.

Alucard watches you in your sleep but dares not touch you. His grotesque hands do not know how to caress and care. It's unfamiliar, too unfamiliar for him to simply begin. He stares and watches, observes and grins and comments, bows and gestures and overdoes everything but he does not touch you. He does not know how.

Yet one night, when you are not asleep but admiring the moon, he comes to you.

Makes it seem like a coincidence even when it is part of his nightly routine to see you. You talk but not dare bring up his odd behaviour towards you. Instead, he listens before Alucard slowly gets lost at the sight of you and his hand gently lowers to your head.

It does not matter if you show no fear or maybe jump and whimper at his touch - all that matters is that you let him touch you. Him, Alucard, the true, great vampire and nightwalker. A creature of the night so great that nothing can harm him but he certainly can bring torment to you - yet you let him touch you.

It is the first in millennia that he ever found himself putting a hand on something he does not wish to kill. His hand engulfs your head, fingers run through your hair and his thumb caressing the underline of your eyes. A hand that could crush your skull, fingers and thumb that could dug into your eyesocket and you let it all happen. It serves as some kind of evidence, at least to him, that he can...do something he did not ever think he could.

It would bring even more meaning to it (or perhaps mockery to the injury) when you accept his touch by putting your hand over his. You can say whatever you want, feel whatever you want but actions speak louder than words and here, right now, you allow a monster to caress you and do not reject it by taking its hand.

You...beautiful human.

You...foolish human.

What are you doing? What have you done?

How can you expect Alucard to forget this and you?

He did not forget the armies, the ottomen, the vampires and ghouls, or Integra's father because all they did was inflict unforgettable pain.

And now, he cannot ever forget you because you touched him with love - whether you liked it or not.

Whether you see it like him or not.

It doesn't matter.

Alucard won't forget. Won't cast aside the new light he now sees you in.

Brave. Steadfast. Aware. Kind. Fragile. Naive. Weak. Loving.

What a truly beautiful night it is indeed.

Blood spills for you...

The damage is done and tenfold at that, too.

Alucard won't try to hide these...emotions he bears no longer and will not care what Integra and Seras will have to say. For how could they fight against a monster's nature?

He endears you with new names. He does so with many in an rather ironic way to describe them in a way he knows them best. But you get many pet names.

'My Dear' is a classic and most used. 'My Darling', ' my beloved' and even 'my little human'. There will always be that possessiveness that he bears oddly proudly. Of course you are his in a way. He cannot really claim you as his but maybe he can let himself be yours in a twisted way. No matter how you feel about him though, you will always be close to his non-existend heart - and in his non-existend heart you do belong to him. His dear, his darling, his beloved, his little human.

Though he will also mostly use a nickname that either describe your appeareance or personality at best - something that encaptures the you.

Any kind of physical appeareance will be endearing to him and called out in a rather...mocking way. Just to get a rise out of you. Alucard does love to see your reactions.

But how he really feels is shown through his nicknames for you based on your personality. Your actions and quality of character.

It would be...rather painfully ironic that would stir him to guffaw like a madman if any nicknames were somewhat...connected to his past life. Like to seek the sight of an angel.

How absurd. The one thing he has fought for and then abandonded at the fear of dying...and now, an angel appears before him.

How maddening.

Names like angel or queen would be highly amusing to him in his own mind (its an inside joke, u wouldnt get it) and Alucard would call you these things with a chuckle or two to the point where you wonder if he is mocking you. However, that is far from the truth. The irony makes him laugh but that never undermines how he truly feels about you. An angel that deserves to be treated like a queen - that also should be besides him, the no life king.

Alucard is also very verbal of his..."affection" for you. Often compliments but also belittles you, during and outside of battle.

"You think this meager weapon will help you? How adorable."

"What a wonderful night to meet you here, my dear. It's always a pleasure to see you."

"No, I do not mock. I am simply enjoying your little human naivete. It is so precious that I just have to indulge in it. Please, go on, and never let anyone take that quality of yours away."

"Why, how could I ever say no to such a beautiful human? The scent of your blood lured me in, like a sweet lullaby."

With enemies he is especially possessive if you are there/are spoken of.

Any filth and maggot that dares speak your name deserves to die. They think they know you, they think they are better and stronger than you just because they have turned themselves inhuman.

They couldn't be more wrong.

"My darling is a braver and far superior being than your pathetic selves could ever be. So don't you dare speak so foolishly of them or its off with your tongue."

"Oh? You think you can talk to my dear like that and live? Hehehe...a dog like you needs to be pummeled! That human belongs to me!"

He will not mind you hearing all this let alone witness the torment he brings onto these fools. In fact, he enjoys it.

Watch him tear down all those that mock and hurt you, mere insects that are nothing! Nothing compared to you!

Alucard loves to be verbal and scream out for them to beg for mercy that he will never show. He loves torturing them in your name. It is what a monster does. Somewhere in the back of his twisted mind it is a sign of devotion to you that he would slaughter all those that dare proclaim themselves to be your enemies. And if they do, it just gives him the excuse to he more brutal than he is usually.

He also gets a kick in having you watch. Watch, watch, watch! Watch, how a monster tears down the flesh and skin of an weakling all for you! This is what a monster is, dear! See it, hear it, have the stench of blood be ingrained into your mind and senses! See if you can still be human around a monster like him! If you would still show love and kindness to a monster like him!

It's a weird game to test you on one hand, merely because he is curious. Would you still show some kindness to him after all this? He wonders as he thrusts his arm into the enemy's heart.

Nevertheless, he mostly does it because he enjoys killing for you. It's what monsters do.

Love does not exist...

The man and his intentions are obvious. To his master, his fledgling and you.

When approached by any of the three, Alucard chuckles, eerily, and nonchalantly admits his infatuation.

Why, yes, master, the human of this mansion has caught his eye and dead heart. Truly something special they are, wouldn't you agree?

Of course, police girl, will he make sure nothing happens to his darling human. Did you ever think otherwise? Ridiculous.

And when you finally talk to him, Alucard sits there on his throne, quiet before he chuckles again. It grows into cold laughter as he rather indirectly admits it. Why, don't you like the attention he gives you? Him, the no life king? Hellsing's hound? A monster?

Don't you appreciate all that he has done for you? He does so gladly, you know. Anything to make his little human safe and sound, showered in his affection and his alone.

No matter if his strokes are cold and his breath reeks. If his presence is unwanted and you are unaware of his watching eye.

The Vampire feels free to tell you all that he thinks of you - your strength, your character, your beauty, your quirks, weaknesses that are endearing, your humanity.

Yes, dear! Darling! Beloved! Angel! Royalty! Liege!

Yes, this monster adores you! Worships you! Is infatuated with you! You have his dead heart in your hands! His power!

However...not ever will and can Alucard say that he loves you. A monster can be obsessed. A monster can be infatuated. Worship that he cannot have, admire and adore the thing he looks down upon. But a monster does not know "love". It has no soul, no heart. Nothing to sacrifice and be selfless with. Alucard is the complete opposite.

Whatever his emotions may be, they are selfish.

He may admit that, too. That he cannot love. It's simply something impossible, he believes.

He agrees with you, that what he feels is not love. Love...he never knew it. Only the good and the pure can love. He never was either.

But know that this will never stop him.

Whatever you may feel...it doesn't matter in the end. Alucard will continue to be selfish and "love" you in the only way he knows how.

Whatever will you do, human?

On that note, Alucard fully does not expect you to accept him let alone love him.

It's understandable. Just as a monster cannot love in general, a human cannot ever grow to love a true monster.

Parts of him will never change. His desire to destroy and for power, as well as his bloodlust. The regret he feels. He can change but those parts can never be lovable enough to be...normal.

He is aware of it all so he's also fine with this one-sided obsession. He is content with being your freak of nature.

Additionally, the man...enjoys the whole ordeal of you two being the Beauty and the Beast. A twisted version of it. You, a pure, beautiful human cursed and haunted by your bloodthirsty beast. The protection, the loving gestures, gifts left for you to find (all flowers with thorns), the ghostly arms wrapping around you in the dead of the night, the sweet nothings that are incantations of curses, the many eyes watching you, the over-the-top exclamations of adoration...all from your filthy, filthy beast.

All because you showed it an ounce of humanity that it couldn't have.

Now, you are all his.