#man these chars look like vampires

[noellefan101]

Kissing Them Genshin-Girls pt 12

Characters: Mualani, Chasca, Xilonen x gn reader

Summary: what they taste like when you kiss them warnings: none, just kissing the girlies note: i have no internet at school, and i haven't had it since the school year started. life is hell rn so i write a lot of things down, thought i could at least write another fic while im at it.

Mualani

She tastes like fish, both bitter and sweet, it cant be helped with where she lives, though you had clearly hoped for something else. dont worry though, she will eat some extra snacks and drink some extra sweet things just to make the taste better for you.

Chasca

She tastes sweet like berries, yet bitter like medicine, her sister definitely is the cause for the latter but you wont complain when you know tis for her health. she eats very sweet things just to make the bitterness go away, and she has unknowingly made it much better for you.

Xilonen

She tastes like melon, a sweet honey like melon that is just engraved into her saliva, the type of melon you would eat when you need something sweet and water fueling. you tried her roller-skaters once and fell on the ground five times before she just took home.

thx for reading, this was weird to write bc they just came out and i dont know what they are really like, luv ya-Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[staryuee]

NOT SAYING “I LOVE YOU” BACK.

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread pls don’t yell at me *sniffles*

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . [char] and you tend to say your i love yous pretty regularly, it’s become a subconscious routine for the both of you; what would happen if either one of you just suddenly didn’t respond?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . venti, diluc, xiao, tartaglia, kazuha, ayato, alhaitham, wanderer, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ^) drabbles vary in length significantly because…i’m a little unwell with astarion brainrot rn and i will not rest till i get to kiss my beautiful vampiric man — also i apologise for making some of these more angsty than intended…i couldn’t help myself haha

VENTI — 温迪

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ venti? of all people? not saying i love you to his beloved windblume whom he’d personally resurrect ancient gods for if they asked with that sweet, melodic voice of theirs?

ʚ the only viable reason for him not replying can most likely be bottled down to him being a brat. a spoiled one at that. you give him so much affection it’s a little scary sometimes to think someone just know all of his ins and out as if they held his heart within the palm of their hand meaninglessly. so how do you expect him to be satisfied with a mere phrase when he wants you so desperately?

“i’m leaving for a commission, i’ll be back in a few hours; love you, honey.” you said per routine, fixing your hair in the mirror that stood perfectly near the doorway under venti’s request (he likes seeing how his braids look after you do them in the morning).

what you expected was a reply, but certainly not the one that followed: “alright, bye bye~” venti tilted his head back as his body slinked on the couch, his eyes scanning yours upside down with that look on his face which suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

“goodbye, venti, i love you.” you re-enunciate, arms crossing firmly over your chest pridefully to mirror venti’s stubbornness that fell immediately upon sight of your pretty face glancing over at his. oh, he really couldn’t resist you for too long.

“i’ll say it back if you stay with me today!” he giggled, teeth on full display as he grinned widely; fully aware you’d indulge him even if for only a little while.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“windblume…” venti sadly slumped his head on your shoulder, leaving enough space for his eyes to glance at the book in your hands as you continued to read despite his sulking.

“i accidentally packed my schedule full with a flurry of performances…i’m afraid i won’t be able to indulge in your cuddles all day like i wanted to,” he whined, kissing the side of your neck to compensate for the lack of affection he’s going to have to put up with.

really, if he could, he’d pretend all the strings on his lyre magically untuned themselves into havoc if it meant giving an excuse to be back in your warm hold. but as a god of the wind, and one who shared the passions of music no less, it was more or less his duty to share his w with the residents of mondstadt when asked so kindly.

“i promise i’ll return to you soon as i can! no quick stop at angel’s share this time either,” venti managed a chuckle despite the inner thumping of his heart at the mere prospect of returning home to you — an experience he never thought he’d fulfil in his lifetime. “i love you dearly, my darling, i’ll see you soon~”

he leaned over the back of the couch to help reach the side of your face, lips pursing into a fish-like pout as he awaited to hear those beloved words that were always followed by a rewarding kiss. yet you merely hummed in acknowledgement of his presence and his soon departure.

who do you think you are?

venti’s brows immediately knit down together in frustration. “windblume…i said, i love you,” he leaned closer, “sweetheart…come on, say it back!” he finally nuzzled his cheek against yours, trying to elicit some sort of response from you that didn’t border on full on ignoring him. usually that slight uplift of your lips would be enough, but with the additional context that he’d be away from you for so long, venti couldn’t cope with a mere smile!

feeling a little flicker of breeze behind you, goosebumps prickle your skin and a delicate shiver runs down your spine, the little gust of wind disappearing as quick as it came. venti hooked his fingers beneath your chin, delicately forcing your eyes to meet his. “won’t you tell your god you love him?”

those gorgeous and elaborate white wings of his flutter quietly, twitching in anticipation as he excitedly awaits for what he’s been dying to hear. you sigh, leaning towards him to press the most featherlight kiss on the side of his face. “i love you too, now go along already, you’re going to be late.”

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ you’ve probably, unfortunately, caught him at a relatively bad time if he had completely ignored your affections. after all, while not necessarily a really active recipient, diluc is more than happy to indulge your carefree “i love yous” and kisses.

ʚ there’s no way he’d ever intentionally ignore or not reply to an “i love you”, especially one that’s so sickly sweet to his ears

“i’m going to bed, luc,” you yawn, arms stretching far out in front of you as you push yourself away from the desk that was littered with several papers stacked on top of each other in various piles that were marked by different pen colours. “you better come join me soon, alright? i love you.”

diluc hums and nods his head, eyes sunken into his skull as his fingers continue flipping the pen within his hand in a sleepy dance as he just barely managed to focus on the words that seemed to squeeze together. none of yours even register in his mind as you sorrowfully close the office door to head to your usually shared bedroom.

it only takes a little while for his brain to catch up to his heart. so that’s why he felt it flutter…

diluc immediately packs away his things to the best of his drowsy ability, hanging up his coat that he honesty forgot he still had draped on himself before he burst into your bedroom rather dramatically. panting from having rushed himself, his arms propping himself up with both sides of the door way, diluc looks away all flushed.

“…i love you as well, i’m sorry for not saying it,” he sighs in comfort as you raise a brow at him, amused at just how quickly he managed to wrap thing ups purely out of guilt that he failed to reciprocate your intentions.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

oh. well…you’ve must’ve had a reason, right?

you wouldn’t just leave right in the morning for a commission, tell him goodbye when he declared his love to you without you repeating the same routine back to him? right?

and yet, you did; and now diluc finds himself in the peculiar position of being overly worried. he has strength, power and stability beyond imagination, but without your affection as fuel, what use are those things?

staring back at the ticking clock continuously, the wet rag in hand helping him clean up some ink that spilled across his hands as a frustrated groan escaped him. what kind of man have you turned him into that he can’t even focus on important tasks merely because you didn’t say a few simple words?

maybe that’s where the problem lies. the words “i love you” always seemed simple to you, something that diluc can admit had found himself jealous of on occasion, so now that he’s absent from something so easy, it’s a little difficult to not overthink the possibilities that the phrase has become harder to swallow for you.

diluc nearly slams his head on his desk at such a thought. he can’t lose his mind over something so silly, it’s fine. you’re both fine.

taking another meandering glance at the clock, diluc’s chair scraped across the wood as he flung on his coat, brushing it clean as he sauntered downstairs with the most grumpy expression dawn winery has seen in a while.

“honey, why do you look so upset?” your sweet voice lured him back into sanity as diluc’s steps immediately calmed down, his eyes widening momentarily as you seemed to return much earlier than expected from your travels. shaking his head, diluc sighs, “it’s nothing, my love — let’s go out for dinner, is that all right?”

XIAO — 魈

not really a surprise, honestly.

xiao isn’t necessarily known for being a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, super affectionate bunny and as much as he wishes he could just vocalise the song that plays in his heart whenever you meet his eyes, he’s unable to reciprocate your affections in a way that’s satisfactory.

you’ve grown to accept such a fact. xiao, on the other hand, hasn’t. it’s like a little itch for him that he can’t scratch but desperately wants to. doesn’t mean he won’t show his love in other more discreet ways.

there are the subtle things; like the way he ensures your favorite dish is always ready when you come over, how he lingers a bit longer during a goodbye hug almost as if he’s scared to let you go, or the times he’ll simply sit in comfortable silence with you (though, that is common), his presence a quiet yet powerful testament to his feelings.

sometimes, he leaves small tokens for you to find: a flower carefully placed on your doorstep, a hand-written note slipped into your bag that you can tell was written in a hurry due to how sloppy the handwriting looks, a charm he crafted himself hidden among your belongings that he specifically sought the guidance of zhongli from. it's in these gestures that his love for you shines through, even if the words remain unspoken.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

there are times when xiao escapes his shell, and it’s in those quiet moments where you’re both completely alone without even the whistling of the wind to eavesdrop on you atop the comfortable slope of a mountain, that xiao verbally tells you how much he adores you. sometimes a little more poetically than intended, but he hopes his words pass through to you in the form of a flutter.

“…a vow as enduring as the sea and mountains,” xiao mumbled nervously, his hand awkwardly hovering over yours in hesitance before he sucked in a breath and decided to just give in and delicately interlock your fingers. watching as you tilted your head in confusion, xiao looked away and muttered again: “i meant that i love you.”

the silence and the little nod that followed, which was all meant as a little ploy to tease him for being so cute and flustered over a term you didn’t even need to hear on the regular, resulted in xiao’s chest to tighten anxiously. did you not feel the same way anymore? but then again, that devious smile of yours (which xiao could differentiate the style of pretty instinctively) made it certain there was a deeper meaning behind the quiet.

“it's alright," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "you don't have to say anything. i just wanted you to know."

TARTAGLIA — 公子

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ petty petty petty, absolutely done out of pettiness and just being an overall ginger brat.

ʚ you forgot to say good morning immediately after you woke up? haha, what was your name again? aw, you walked passed him on your travels even though he deliberately came over to see you? guess he’s not paying for all your stuff today… (he will, just ask).

one morning, groggy and half-asleep, you stumbled out of bed, forgetting to meekly mumble your usual "good morning, my darling, i love you" as you got up for the day. it was a small and rather insignificant oversight, but not for childe.

later that day, as you wandered through the vibrant streets of fontaine, you spotted his unmistakable ginger hair approaching. waving and smiling at your beloved, expecting some sort of hyper response back, you awaited his towering presence with a hand on your hip. he walked right past you. full on. turning your head with furrowed brows and jaw hung low, you notice that little playful, shit-eating smirk on his lips.

a little confused, you called out to him, "ajax! come back here.”

he turned, feigning surprise despite clearly having seen you (and, unbeknownst to you, having been watching you for the past couple minutes as you checked out several vendors). "oh, it's you. i almost didn't recognize you."

rolling your eyes, you walked up to him. "seriously?” both of you stared at each other in scrutiny, tartaglia fighting back the urge to squeeze you within his arms and whine at you for your negligence while you fought the urge to pull him down by his sunlit strands to coax some sense out of him. “are you mad at me?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, eyes twinkling with mischief you recognised immediately. "hmm, who’s mad? i just forgot who you were for a moment." let’s not mention the fact he has your front, back and side silhouettes memorised to the point he could trace it with his eyes closed expertly.

when you both parted ways, tartaglia making up some excuse that he had to buy some souvenirs for his siblings despite you knowing full well he was just listening to your reprimand from a week ago that he needed respite from being brutalised repeatedly, you found yourself linking pieces of red yarn together internally.

oh he’s just such a little shit isn’t he?

the sun set and bedazzled the sky in golden red hues, you walked back to your shared accommodation and a hefty amount of apologetic snacks filling your bag. normally, when you opened the door, ajax would jump at you. it was obvious from the way he sat leaned back on the couch that he was biting back that urge too.

grinning, you approached him, feeling a mix of amusement and frustration. "you know i love you, right?"

he glanced at you, his expression softening for a moment, god he really missed you so much even if only parted for a few hours at most. "hmm, do you? because i don't recall hearing such a thing in the morning."

you laughed, shaking your head at his childishness. settling yourself next to him, arms encasing around his wounded torso, you muttered a little compromise: "alright, honey. tomorrow, first thing. i promise."

tartaglia finally relented, pulling you into a gentle embrace that led to him exhaling a breath he was holding (probably a subtle way to get his loud heart to stop beating so furiously). "good. i suppose i can forgive you this time.“

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ajax had disobeyed your orders again.

even when being repeatedly asked by friends and his own lover alike, he just couldn’t behave in a way that didn’t result in at the very least, a few scratches and bruises on his freckled skin. it irritated you to no end.

irritation, of course, led to frustration. i mean, when you have to regurgitate the same instructions to someone you adore to death, it becomes exhausting. you didn’t necessarily argue about it, you simply tuned off.

sitting in bed with a book cradled between your fingertips, a mellow tune humming in the background from your vinyl as you soaked in the fantasy you were thoroughly engaged in. none of those things could unfortunately deafen the whines from ajax as he cozied himself up next to you, a silent groan slipping past his lips as he incidentally tore at one of his bandages.

“kochanie…” his nose nuzzled against your clothes as he found himself laying on your warm thighs. “i already apologised for being a dumbass, i swear i love you and i’ll listen to you properly next time.”

he purses his lips into a pout as you ignore him and continue to scan your eyes over the ink. “come on, i love you, sweetheart.” he nudged you, pinching you as delicately as possible but enough to elicit a gasp from you as you finally glance over at him.

“and i love peace and quiet, so if you could, zip it.”

surely you don’t think that was a good enough response for someone as needy for attention as ajax?

“i’m so hurt…” he pitifully grumbled, arms crossing over his firm chest as he continued staring up at you with a gaze that meant “you are not getting out of this”.

“won’t even spare a small kiss for your wounded lover? a hug? a cuddle? even just a whisper of your voice? how am i meant to live—“ you hush childe’s antics by squishing his cheeks together, forcing a fish like pout to form with his lips.

“i love you too, you’re just annoying.”

he’d take that over you fully ignoring him any day.

K. KAZUHA — 枫原万叶

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ not possible, thank you next character.

ʚ the only possible way kazuha would ever not indulge your i love yous is when he’s away to a different nation and he sends you a response letter that takes weeks to come to your hands, or if that same letter somehow gets wet or ruined while in transit and his affections get dampened and smudged

ʚ otherwise? kazuha doesn’t see the point in stubborn behaviour. if there’s a problem, though there hardly ever is, he’s under the pretence a couple should talk about it with a clear mind before making a final decision or statement — or in this case, the retraction of affection.

ʚ you’re his map, with the treasure being your heart. why would he ever choose to not tell you he loves you when he gets the chance? you already lack sufficient time with another, and kazuha prefers using the time he does have with you to show you how much he adores you (whatever way that manifest as).

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

kazuha absolutely smothers you in his love. though that usually feels more like you’re resting within the comfort of a sandy beach as soft washes of waves tickle your skin. you’re never short of a supply of affection.

that’s why a devious idea popped into your head. what if you just didn’t reciprocate?

“my heart,” kazuha’s breathy voice popped the bubble that hung over your head. “you’ve been spaced out for a while now, do you need a kiss to help you refocus?” you had to stop yourself from jumping at the opportunity.

“uh, no it’s fine, you don’t have to,” the reply made kazuha raise an eyebrow quizzically. that’s certainly not something he expected to hear especially after not seeing you for a while; but, he’d respect your choice. it’s not like he’s desperate for something so simple, you could just genuinely not be interested.

“hm…alright then, beloved.” he smiled sincerely, head falling to rest on your shoulder as his hand gently rested on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles that mirrored the shape of the moon that cast a glow on you both. “i love you.”

he could’ve sworn he just said he loved you, so why did the winds bellow a response instead? coughing into his hand to clear his throat, thinking that perhaps you just didn’t hear him, he repeated: “i love you, songbird.”

met with silence again, kazuha simply stays quiet. he doesn’t need a reply, that’s not why he says sweet things to you like he’s writing a lyrical sonnet. he tells you he loves you because it helps write the song in his heart that beats whenever he’s near you in a much more coherent way.

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ this man oozes with romantic appeal. even if he’s off voyaging to a whole other nation he’ll find a way to not only say i love you, but also to say his good morning and good nights (accompanied with poorly doodled attempts at kiss marks to make up for the lack of physical touch).

ʚ when he’s upset? gods no. he could be frustrated with you to the point he needs a break, and regardless he’ll leave the room with a reminder he loves you. he doesn’t need you getting second thoughts and therefore won’t ever plant them.

ʚ he’s too busy? so? thoma has two hands i’m sure he can handle giving you letters that are merely love notes while he cleans the abode (assuming you and ayato live together separately from where he works…you can imagine how much thoma despises this errand despite his loyalty).

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“greetings, love,” ayato’s arms slid around your middle, chin coming to rest atop your shoulder as he hums a sweet tune as if he were a bird coming back home to his nest. a rather direct analogy, since that’s exactly the occurrence.

plagued with hours of paperwork and meetings with government issues and secret organisations that god forbid you or ayaka ever found out about, ayato has missed you gravely. if he didn’t know better he’d demand this sort of sin to be classified as a national crime with the sentence being told to stay home with your spouse all day (his literal dream).

now that he’s free for at least a little while, peace alas twinkling within his eyes as they close tightly to enjoy the silence as he clings onto you, ayato does feel like all the pain and ink he went through was totally worth it. if the price he had to pay for holding you oh so tightly is simply meaningless signatures on several documents, he’s willing to waste the entire supply of ink within inazuma — he wants this reward to last as long as possible, after all.

“mm, you smell divine, are you using the flower-scented perfume i sent you the other week? i love it,” he rambled, lips pressing against your nape as you busied yourself with some crocheting, ayato’s eyes opening only to focus on the way your deft hands moved so skilfully. he’d make a comment about how he wished those hands were on him instead, but he had a particular reputation to uphold — and lewd impatient man certainly wasn’t part of it.

“more importantly, sweetheart,” ayato cooed, beginning to trail kisses around your neck and any exposed skin he managed to find, “i love you. so, look at me won’t you?”

merely turning your head to plant a kiss to the side of his jaw in a way of compromise, you otherwise remained silent. “you know,” ayato smiled devilishly, his hand beginning to play with your hair soothingly. “i bought some stuff on my travels recently, a lot of things that are meant for you, of course.”

“i can’t wait to surprise you tonight during dinner.”

that was a threat. maybe not a direct one, but you could recognise the slyness in that man’s voice soon as he mentioned buying “stuff” — things that were definitely substitutes for poison (a little far fetched, but it’s best to assume whatever he conjures up will be the worst thing possible to save yourself the trip to a hospital bed).

“i love you too.” you appeased, and his face immediately lightened, arms returning around you as if finally satiated.

ayato huffs a stifled laugh, quelling your worries with a simple: “i’ll have the staff know you’d like your favourite dish prepared.”

ALHAITHAM — 艾尔海森

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ lowkey, it’s a bit of a 50/50 with him…?

ʚ sometimes, he just genuinely doesn’t hear you. whether it’s because he’s subconsciously disassociating, overstimulated from excessive noise (it’s pretty much canon that he’s autistic, you can’t give me a character that constantly wears headphones and only speaks when spoken to and expect me not to connect the dots) or simply because whatever’s playing in his ears was a little too loud and had managed to drown out your words — these specifics are never intended, and he’s more likely to reply back if you repeat yourself (or give him some time).

ʚ other times though, is simply him teasing you. remember that one scene at the end of the interdarshan festival where alhaitham said, “best things are told thrice” (or whatever the quote was), yeah he commits to that in this scenario too.

ʚ he’ll pretend he can’t hear you just so he can see the sweet frustration in your eyes as you mumble the words “i love you” through gritted teeth. he’ll smirk it off subtly and reciprocate…after a while of course. perhaps when you’re falling asleep on his chest once you’re finally cuddled in bed together, you’ll manage to catch his hushed whisper.

the world was intent on making alhaitham break down today. he woke up without you in bed with him this morning, meaning he couldn’t brush his teeth while next to you as he passed you things that you required to get ready to start the day. from that, none of the foods or snacks he liked were available and the only option were fruits or meals he didn’t like or he weren’t in the mood for.

already feeling irritated and grumpy, him nearly spilling a vase on the books he had perfectly stacked up to binge read as he bumped into the corner of the table could’ve made him bang his head brutally on the wall. this wouldn’t have been a problem if kaveh didn’t place something so fragile and wobbly on something that’s in the way.

alas, when he finally died down for the afternoon, book in hand, a melody passing by his ear as he tried to focus on breathing, all a sudden that irritation just slowly came creeping back. the words on the page squished together like some sort of cartoon from fontaine as they began to make no coherent sense even as he went over every line twice.

to make it worse? you had just come back home.

that sounds bad, but for alhaitham it was a travesty. now he wasn’t able to at the very least embrace you in greeting in fear he’d lash out at the sudden contact. noticing the scrunching of his brows and the way his jaw looked like he’d been clenching it subconsciously for hours, you smiled out of sympathy, knowing from experience that this was most definitely another case of the domino effect of bad shit happening.

“need me to leave you alone for a bit?” you asked as quietly as possible but in an octave he wouldn’t twitch at in frustration.

he shook his head. a little surprising, but you complied with his wish and sat down on the floor next to him as he laid back on the couch as if in an impromptu therapy session. alhaitham held out his hand for you and you gently but surely placed yours on top, a delicate reminder that he was free to express whatever was on his mind when the world finally felt a little more peaceful.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

it’s not like alhaitham really says he loves you verbally, he prefers showing his love to you though actions. after all, actions speak louder than words — what’s the point of telling you he loves you if he doesn’t have the actions to back it up?

but for the sake of the scenario, let’s imagine alhaitham decides to spoil you with one his few vocal affirmations. his hands slowly running up and down the spine of your back, chest rising and falling in slow steady breaths as you burrow yourself into his side. alhaitham was reluctantly reading a romance book that you forcefully recommended him in hopes he’d learn a few things that would make you swoon (despite him doing plenty such things already).

“i love you.” he randomly blurts, his eyes clearly having scanned over the same phrase within the page he was on since he rather quickly skipped past it once your eyes caught glimpse of it. alhaitham is a confident, sometimes arrogant, man — nothing ever truly bothers him when in regards to the words or actions of other people unless they pose a threat to someone he loves.

however, in this case, your lack of words makes his brows scrunch down, bright teal eyes now scrutinising you as you clearly try to hide away a giggle. “don’t you think it’s a little rude to not reply to someone’s confession.” he asks in a monotone voice, attention returning to the words on the page that now seemed irrelevant.

“if you want me to be like the characters in your little romance stories, how about you also commit to that yourself?” a little harsh sounding, but when faced with alhaitham’s pettiness, this is probably the most lenient he’s ever been to anyone.

WANDERER — 流浪者

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ another one that’s not necessarily surprising.

ʚ he likes using the phrase to tease or slander you, if anything. case in point: “oh i love you alright, but that doesn’t mean you get to steal my blanket in the middle of the night.” or “i love you more when you keep completely silent."

“i’m convinced you don’t love me.” ah god, not another one of your little helpless spiels again. this sort of conversation starter would normally set of a warranted number of red flags. in this case, however, both of you understood it was more like the start of a theatrical display of your pettiness.

“right, and why’s that?” scara asked unamused, face not changing from his casual stoicism as he scanned over a possibly illegal book he snuck from the library (and if this conversation goes one way you might just tattle to auntie nahida).

“you slept on the couch yesterday even after i cooked your favourite dish and got you out of that lecture kusanali forced you to attend by pretending we had chores to do,” you list off your good deeds on your fingers, your body sinking next to his on the couch that seemed more like a partner in crime than just a piece of furniture.

scara rolled his eyes. licking the tip of his fingertip to turn the page on his book, he huffed a response absentmindedly: “i do love you, but you just keep pushing me off the bed because of my cooler temperature so i got annoyed — simple as.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

‘oh, so just fuck me i guess?’

it’s already so difficult for him to even admit how much he cares for you, so to have such a hefty phrase leave his lips and be left with silence? he’s a little more than pissed.

scara’s eyebrows crunched together, confusion written all over his face at the sudden change in your demeanor. you’re always the first to jump at the opportunity to coddle him soon as his sour lips turn sweet, so what’s with the sudden negativity? the hostile fire that once flickered in his eyes was now replaced by a mournful sadness, and scara couldn’t help but feel like he was staring at a stranger.

his chest tightened in a way that didn’t feel good, and he found himself swallowing thickly, eyes flicking downward to where your hands swirled an ice-filled glass. guilt nipped at scara’s conscience, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.

“what did i fucking do wrong now?” he spits out.

scara tends to take even the slightest joke within your relationship as a direct threat or dig at him. not because he doesn’t trust you, not even because he thinks your relationship isn’t at a secure stage — but just because that’s all he knows. he doesn’t know how to respond to something lighthearted when all that he’s felt so far in his life is extremities.

“hm? what do you mean?” you ask, the teasing tone you took on dwindling upon the quick glance at how his bottom lip jutted out nervously. did everything have to be so irrevocably complicated?

scara shook his head, exhaling a small sigh before he just let the matter drop naturally. he didn’t have time for stuff like this. he’d like to think he knows you well enough to recognise when you’re simply teasing him, but that fact alone isn’t enough to make that ache in his heart go away.

he just needs a minute break. and perhaps for you to sneak into bed with him so you can cuddle him from behind.

LYNEY — 林尼

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

it’s a little difficult for lyney to say the words “i love you” to someone who’s not technically part of his family. he trusted and loved you easily, you cared for his siblings as if they were your own and even gave up your own pride to protect him; but something itching within him tells him he has no right to confess his true ardour.

lyney is nothing but a pawn with a jesters hat, using sleight of hand to remove the idea that he’s deceptive from your mind with a few whimsical flower tricks. it’s hard to allow himself to be so vulnerable and open when he knows full well that if his father found out, the disappointment would be greater than the reward.

when he’s coated in that black circus show getup, his smile broad and stance wide with confidence, he’ll reply pretty easily! after all, he had to please his audience. but, you’re not just a stranger in the crowd. you’re his beloved, someone he waits for before one of his grandeur shows as you press a kiss to his cheek as a lucky charm that he finds himself gently touching as he slowly enters the stage.

but when he’s merely lyney, a lonely kid from the house of hearth who trembles in the comfort of the dark, your mumble of: “i love you a lot, lyney,” makes him replywith a mere widened look as if a deer caught in headlights, his pale face blossoming into a rosey pink hue as he tugged down at the front of his hat to cover his eyes.

“me too.” sometimes that reply is easier and much safer for both his heart and yours than the actual words.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

lyney adores how easily you find yourself saying such a phrase, even a little jealous at time at both the idea of how many people you’ve uttered it to and the fact he finds himself stumbling over his own consciousness at the idea of confessing his affections back.

he’s also a massive trickster! you pull silly and harmless pranks on each other constantly, from something dumb like switching out a singular chocolate chip cookie to a raisin one to see the astounded look on lyney’s face as he bites down to something a little more sweet like lyney throwing out roses to an audience that coincidentally create a heart.

this is certainly a much crueller prank than any of the above.

lyney was a little jumpy backstage, constantly pacing back and forth with a genuine smile on his face that you’ve rarely seen, his arms constantly stretching out in front of him as he played with the leather of his gloves tediously. lady furina was going to be watching him today, it was no wonder he wanted you to help out!

well, lynette did everything, but you’re here for something lyney said he absolutely couldn’t go without. his good luck kiss.

hearing the familiar sound of the staff shuffling around their props, lyney sauntered to you with a smile as his lips tucked behind his arms innocently. “ma moitié,” lyney hums in a chipper, melodic tune, content at simply seeing your face light up once your eyes meet his, “i’m confident in my abilities as a magician, but i think you have the answer to quelling any of my nerves. care to share some of your magic wit me?”

you grin and tilted your head off to the side, giving him an encouraging thumbs up and a much less motivating: “break leg, lyney, i believe in you.” as much as he wished to coax it out of you, he’d have to unfortunately settle for the way you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

yet, although he preformed flawlessly per usual, his execution even enthralling the ever critical furina who sat up in the crowd with a leg over her knee, you notice a slight hesitation in his movements, a brief moment of distraction that only you, who knows him so well, could catch. the show eventually concludes to thunderous applause, lyney and lynette taking their final bow as he nearly sprints off once the curtains draw closed.

backstage, as the crowd's cheers still echo faintly, lyney cautiously approaches you with a more serious expression. “[name],” he begins, his tone quieter, more introspective, “did I... do something wrong?”

who knew just the slight lower pitch of someone’s voice could make your heartstrings tug unceremoniously. you know it's time to end this silly prank. shaking your head, you take a step closer. “no, lyney. you were incredible, as always — lady furina seemed exceptionally impressed.” his breath catches in his throat — that’s not really what he wanted to hear. but before he could brush it all off, you interrupt his overthinking: “and... I love you too.”

his eyes widen in surprise, then soften with relief and warmth. “you really had me there,” he chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “you're quite the trickster yourself.”

you laugh, hugging him back tightly. “i learned from the best.”

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ for neuvillette it’s less about him not saying i love you, but just how convoluted and complicated he can make it seem.

ʚ whether it’s by using outdated poetry and reciting it to you without the knowledge that the terms used completely flew over your head because they’re so old, or doing something that to him is basically more intimate than physical touch like gifting you a piece of jewellery that’s imbedded with a stone most certainly toxic to humans (he got it out of a rift from khaenri’ah when it first emerged and kept it as a little token).

ʚ this man is a dragon, he’s older than the snowy mountains of dragonspine and the deadly primordial sea itself…you can’t blame him for being a little bit over the top and traditional with how he says he loves you.

ʚ it’s all courting tactics! isn’t this what you humans enjoy? no? …maybe he should ask lady furina if she has some plays from the romance genre she’d care to share, perhaps then he could learn a much more modern way of showing his affections.

ʚ he’ll say he loves you if you vocalise you’d just prefer that but…are you sure you don’t also want this embarrassingly cute cup he made to match his dragon form?

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

the more he thinks about it, the sadder he gets. and the sadder he gets, the rainier the heavens become. neuvillette’s pen shifted between several of his fingers as the paragraphs in front of him shifted and blurred continuously.

you didn’t reply to his i love you this morning. straight after waking up he mumbled the sweetest, “i love you,” directly into your ear with that rumbling voice of his, letting his affections linger on your skin as his nose snuggled itself safely against your neck.

and what did he get in response? a small giggle and a, “should we get ready?”

at first, he merely internalised it as a mere misstep on your part. perhaps you merely didn’t hear him, you had just woken up after all you must’ve been feeling a little groggy. that managed to ease his nerves just a little, but soon as you closed the door to his office without a chance for another i love you, he slumped into his seat with defeat.

you humans are tricky creatures and scarily good at making other overthink things that someone should be most confident on.

just the idea that he might’ve done something to upset you enough for you to not want to love him so dearly as you normally do makes the skies weep to match the mourning in his heart. you best come back this instant with your arms wide open unless you want fontaine to flood over.

he may be one of the strongest beings currently alive and awake in the land of teyvat, but his heart is rather fragile when it comes to you.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

much to the dismay of wriothesley, he rarely even gets to say he loves you. between managing the fortress of meropide and his countless responsibilities that range from being a guinea pig for sigewinne’s new test trials that she calls food to ridiculous requests from inmates, expressing his feelings often takes a backseat.

you, of course, understand his position, but it doesn't stop you from sending him love letters whenever you can. your letters are filled with warmth, affection, and little anecdotes about your day, hoping they bring a smile to his face during his busy hours — and they certainly do, he adores tracing your handwriting with the back of his gloved hand.

unfortunately, your letters piled up on his desk without being read. despite him desperately wanting to respond to every little i love you, he found himself way too preoccupied with other immediate matters that required his thorough attention. every time he’d open up his drawer to find a new pen to fill out a document with, he’d shamefully glance at the stack of unread papers that were littered with hearts.

each letter was one a piece of your heart — him stashing it away protectively would be a little romantic and rather ironic given his profession, but currently it felt more like he was actively giving you the sentence of a lifetime by withdrawing his affections.

no reply comes for days.

you understand that his duties are overwhelming, but a part of you yearns for some acknowledgment, a sign that your words are reaching him. however, wriothesley is determined to rectify this, he sat down at his desk after the first calm night in a while, pulls out a sheet of paper, and begins to write.

what you receive the next day isn’t necessarily anything grandiose or swooningly romantic — but it was enough; a large bouquet of your favourite roses with a special heart shaped note attached that when you latched it off simply read: “i love you too, sweetheart.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

alas, wriothesley finally managed to carve out a free day just for you. spending the day together ultimately meant either a completely lazy morning filled with sloppy kisses shared and your warm bodies all tangled within blankets, or a date where you bask in each other’s presence.

this time, you chose the latter. you needed a little bit of a pick me up and what better than having a romantic outing with your beloved? …where you simultaneously wished to entertain yourself with a bit of mischief. who could get away with teasing the mighty duke if not you?

a day of activities left you a little exhausted, which is why wriothesley decided to share the last few setting hours of the sun by sitting on a comfy blanket near an empty, secluded beach far from the usual hustle and bustle of fontaine.

"thank you for being so patient with me," wriothesley said, his voice low and sincere. "i know it's not easy, but you mean a lot to me."

you reached out and squeezed his hand. "aww, i understand, wrio. i’m honestly just happy we get to spend time together like this at all.”

bringing your interlocked hands up to his lips, his calloused and rough ones ridden with scars and marks that told stories of their own holding yours as if made of porcelain, he pressed a few gentle kisses to your knuckles as he mumbled a sincere: “i love you, [name].”

ah the very words you’ve been waiting to drawl from his lips. stifling a chuckle, you simply smiled and nodded, letting your hand wiggle away from his grasp as your focus drifted to stare at the crashing waves cleansing the shore.

wriothesley's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "did you hear me?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. "i said, i love you."

you nodded again, keeping your expression neutral. “i heard you."

his confusion turned into amusement as both his brows raised in disappointment — were you seriously teasing him right now? wriothesley leaned in appetisingly close, searching your face for a clue for your intentions. "and?" he prompted.

swallowing down another fit of giggles, you titled your head at him all coyly, “and what?”

wriothesley puffed out a chuckle before his skilled hand quickly swooped beneath your knees and atop the small of your back to land you on his lap. “do you think you’re funny?” his muscular and scarred arms closed around your middle, keeping you firmly in place to face your trial.

“a little,” you muse before lifting yourself a little within his grasp, moving in to press a more than welcomed kiss on his cheek. “i love you too, wrio.”

“that’s what i thought.”

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

꒰ her not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ arlecchino loves you, she really does. but unfortunately for you, you’re not the age of the orphaned children she protects and therefore she finds it useless to constantly reassure you of such a fact.

ʚ surely if you want her to prove how much she loves you, you’d be less childish with it and simply ask for a real heart to be displayed in a glass box? she’s kidding (perhaps), but given the nature of your dynamic, she’s sure you’ve said the words “i love you” in this relationship enough to cover her half of the bargain.

“arle, i love you,” you muse, buzzing around her desk like a never satiated mosquito. yet instead of sucking blood you merely made her wish she had the heart to plug her ears to silence your relentless affection spillage. she wouldn’t dare. but for the love of the tsaritsa won’t you be good and just sit on her lap and remain quiet?

“arlechinnoo…” another whine as you carefully sit yourself on her desk, her pen quickly brushing over lines, the ferocity at which she held it made the point look as if she was scabbing the paper.

“yes, bunny?” she looked off to the side at you, her expression holding an air of royalty that was most likely non existent in her blood, but definitely seemed present in the way she held herself. maybe it was just that natural posture of arrogance?

“i love you…won’t you love me back?”

“my dear,” she placed the pen down and got up, a sight that made the two informants that stood opposite of the room with their heads hung low nervously hunch into themselves. she sauntered to you and encased your body against the edge of the desk, hands on either side of you.

“you’re surely irritating our guests with your constant noise,” that crestfallen expression of yours was something she wished she could wipe, but that sinful, pyre of pride burned within her like vengeance, making her merely tap her hand over your cheek to refocus your forlorn attention.

soon as you tilted your head, her hot breathy whisper mumbled against your ear: “stay quiet and i’ll be sure to spoil you.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“i’ve been issued another task within fontaine, do keep yourself out of trouble even though i have little hope you’ll commit,” arlecchino teasingly mused as she nudged your hip with hers while fixing her coat. “i love you, dear — i’ll be sure to send you letters.”

arlecchino is eerily fond of the silence that came after deafening screams. the scarlet stickiness that spreads across her grim face in splatters making her instinctively lick off that sweet residue. but right now, the silence was just a testament to how good she’s been treating you.

if you think you can get away with a silly prank like this as she’s awaiting your response like a puppy begging for a bone, you must’ve forgotten who has the collar and who has the leash.

catching your chin between her thumb and forefinger, she tilts your face upwards to meet her intense stare, stern eyes blazing with naked hunger. "i asked you to not cause trouble while i’m gone, but you’ve already decided to start, have you?”

most people would crumble beneath her shimmering eyes that spoke volumes of violence, yet deeply within your own heart you know she’d carry you over mountains of skulls that crushed beneath her callous heels if it meant getting you across into fairyland.

“admit it - you crave me just as fiercely as i burn for you." she grins before flicking your forehead with her clawed fingertips. “don’t make me repeat myself or you won’t be getting any gifts from me when i return.”

that’s the real threat you were waiting for. leaving a featherlight goodbye kiss atop her lips, you smartly respond: “i love you too, and don’t forget my favourite cake!”

she rolls her eyes, finally letting you go. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[neckromantics]

You simply CANNOT look me in my eyes and tell me that Halsin wouldn't hand out piggy-back rides like nobody's business.

Just cause he's a sweet, beautiful refrigerator man who is willing to help you out if you have a particularly bad injury (or, if you're Astarion and play up how badly your feet are killing you until your big, strong, wood elf friend takes pity.) No matter how much you insist he shouldn't have to carry people around like that, he's insisting just as much that he doesn't mind. Like, he genuinely likes it. Can man-handling be a love language?

There was this one instance where you and a certain vampire had just got your asses handed to you by a boobytrap of epic proportions.

It was an easy mistake. You simply hadn't noticed, and he hadn't either until it was much too late. Ya'll got blown up so hard. How you were still alive when you should have been charred and gooey like two idiot marshmallows was a mystery to all. (Somehow, you think the last second yank to your cloak he gave in an attempt to save you just made the landing hurt worse. You were a pile of sprawled out limbs and sizzling leather before you could process that the hell had happened. The first words out of Astarion's mouth when he peeled himself off of you were to ask if his eyebrows were still there- made you promise you weren't lying when you assured him his pretty face was still intact.)

In comes Halsin, who sees the state of you two- the silver-haired elf sitting on the stone floor looking worse for wear as you hobble around the room with knocking knees, and stubbornly continue to rummage around in hopes of finding at least one potion of healing to share. The druid lets you finish your look around, lets you feel defeated for all of three seconds, before he waltzes over and scoops the two of you up. Like two, whiny sacks of potatoes you are, slung with great care. One over each of his broad shoulders.

Neither you or Astarion consider complaining about how embarrassing it might be- really just let yourselves be carried away like two misbehaving children getting hauled out of a shop after a tantrum. You lock eyes behind Halsin's back at some point to find that the two of you are sharing matching expressions. Just beneath your pained grimacing lies a little bit of shock. A little bit of awe. A little bit of.... wait, are you both kicking your feet as well?

Gods, you are practically swooning over your beefy friend's show of strength. It's ridiculous. You're just glad Halsin is too busy going on about how the two of you are "such brave adventurers" to notice whenever he glances back to check on you. At least you think he doesn't notice.

Huh. Is this just the concussion talking, or can you feel his shoulder shaking with laughter?

[bennettmaximoff]

It’s still insane how that side of tvdu fandom vilifies Tyler for choosing to get revenge on the man that killed his mother and friends instead of staying with Caroline, all because they needed an excuse to make Klaus look like the better choice for Care. Which is insane because he has physically harmed Caroline and almost killed her, yet somehow him doing that isn’t terrible as Tyler growling at Caroline bc she slept with the man who tortured him and again, has killed his mother…

“Tyler slut shamed her”… when all he stated was that she slept with Klaus. Even in show, they have Stefan punching him and acting as if he said something egregious [Them completely forgetting all the times they have Caroline call other female characters sluts or insinuate it, but ofc the writers and fandom have selective memory when it comes to certain characters] when Tyler had the right to be upset over his girlfriend sleeping with the man who destroyed his life.

This is the same side that calls Bonnie a terrible friend because she didn’t immediately warm up to Caroline being a vampire. Even though Caroline had literally killed an innocent person—Even though Bonnie made her a daylight ring not too long after. But this is the TVD fandom we’re talking about, so of course black and poc character’s feelings are not an importance to them. It’s interesting how they are so quick to infantilize and baby white characters, yet the black/poc chars are supposed to easily move on from their trauma, deal with it, and prioritize their white counterparts over themselves.

[m-jelly]

Hi 🤗 Ma I ask for a vampire Levixhuman Levi ANGST love story where Levi's hurt & reader tries to save him? Happy ending please 🥺

Breaking the keeper.

Levi x fem!reader

Modern AU, vampire Levi, human reader, hurt Levi, slight angst, fluff, romance, being a couple.

Levi wants forever with you, but the Queen of the Vampires doesn't want to let Levi go or make a human a vampire. Levi is left with no choice and kills the Queen but at a price to his health. Returning to you on the cusp of death, you do everything you can to get Levi to live.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

Silver burned Levi's skin as wounds failed to heal. Everything hurt in his broken and battered body. The Queen had ripped him to pieces before he held the last bit of her life in his hands. With the last bit of strength left in him, he tore her head off from her shoulders and stopped her from feeding on him.

Her head hit the floor with a loud thud and then a stomach-churning squelch from the blood and skin. Exhaustion washed over him as his skin started to become charred in places. He was in desperate need of blood otherwise he was going to die.

With the last bit of his energy, he used his speed to race home to you. It all gave out as soon as he reached your home. His broken body broke through your front door and crumbled to your floor. No matter how much he fought his body, he was tired.

As he lay there bleeding out he mumbled your name hoping you would return to him. He wanted to see you just one last time. He wanted to hold you so desperately. The love you gave him was so healing to him and he needed it more than ever.

You waved goodbye to your friend after she dropped you off. Something had felt off so you asked to be dropped off early from your shopping trip. The concern you had was correct because when you walked up to your home you saw the door was broken open, blood was all over your floor.

You moved as cautiously as possible into your home and found Levi lying on it in a pool of blood, his ski was turning to ash and he was barely breathing. You dropped your bags and ran to your heater fridge. You grabbed four bags of blood and raced back to your man.

Levi mumbled your name. "You're here."

You dropped to your knees and shifted him onto your lap. "I'm here, my darling, I'm here."

"I'm glad...I saw you...in my last...moments."

You ripped open the tab on the blood pack. "You are NOT dying on me today. You promised me forever. We're not done." You moved his head. "Now you better drink every drop of his blood and some of mine or I'll be so mad at you."

Levi flinched when he felt your tears hitting your face. "Love."

"I'm warning you!" You sniffed. "I am!"

He opened his mouth and started drinking. He gulped and sucked everything he could until the blood was gone, but he could feel it wasn't enough. He gasped and before he could speak you had shoved the next between his lips. He kept drinking until all four packs were gone and his skin was now healing.

You shifted your hair and moved Levi up to your neck. "Drink."

He opened his mouth and pierced your skin. He moaned as your blood flooded into his mouth and made him stronger by the second. He pulled back before he took it too far and gazed at you as you sniffed back tears.

You gazed at Levi and hummed. "You look like yourself again. Do you feel better?"

He studied his healing hands and sighed. "A lot better." He sat up and cracked his neck. "I'll drink more from the heater."

"Good."

He wiped your tears away. "Forgive me for scaring you and making you think I was dying. I was, but you saved me. I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

You sniffed a little before crashing your lips against his. "I love you, Levi."

"I love you so much." He tapped his forehead against yours. "The Queen is dead. We can forever be together. I will make you my vampire bride and we'll have eternity, please just wait a bit for me to heal."

You hugged Levi tightly. "I'm happy to wait. You are worth it."

[spookitapes]

Hi when you get the chance can you please do a Charlie slimecicle smut with they/them pronouns for the reader? And Charlie's a vampire.

But he hasn't drank from you yet cause he doesn't want to hurt you but you reassure him it's okay and when he finally dose he gets VERY turned on from it and fucks the shit out of the reader.

If you wanna btw can you add some light breeding kink?

vampire!charlie slimcile feeding + breeding kink hc’s

summary | begging for long enough gets you anything you want

pairing | charlie slimecicle x reader

warnings/cw | smut, overstimulation, breeding, blood kink, blood feeding kink, choking, mentions taking explicit photos

word count | 550

!! 18+ MINORS DNI !!

not proofread, sorry for any mistakes !!

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────────

❧ you’ve been dating for 9 months

❧ he’s refused to feed from you up until now

❧ how can he say no when you’re looking up at him with those eyes and begging so so prettily from on your knees

❧ the desire taking over the worry each second that passes

❧ he doesn’t say anything..just picks you up and throws you over his shoulder to carry you to the bedroom

❧ throwing you on the bed & ripping your clothes off

❧ i’m talking shredding them bitches…they aren’t garments anymore, just pieces of tattered fabric on the floor

❧ kissing from your ankles up to your collarbones before he checks back in with you

❧ “tell me if it hurts and i’ll stop, okay ?”

❧ “remember the safe word, love ?”

❧ “yes charlie, yes i remember— now please !”

❧ “say it first— and stop being a brat before i treat you like one.”

❧ “it’s pineapple!!”

❧ you feel him smile into your neck as he gives you a few hickeys

❧ “good job, baby.” and then he’s sinking his fangs in

❧ he isn’t expecting the moans that come out of your mouth

❧…or for you to cum from him feeding off you alone

❧ him pulling away from the shock

❧ you whining and trying to get him back to your neck

❧ “fuuucckk, baby. who would’ve thought you’d be this depraved, huh? knew you were my slut, but you’ve wanted to be my own personal blood bag this whole time, too. haven’t you, sweetheart?”

❧ not being able to hold back and slipping into you as his teeth sink back into your neck

❧ getting so drunk off the feeling off loosing blood & getting fucked you’re just babbling nonsense to get him to breed you

❧ “wan’ y-you to fill me u-up, char! please give it to me— wanna feel it deep inside!”

❧ he’s laughing with his fangs in you and it sends deep tingles through your whole body

❧ you’re squirming from it when he pulls away to make you beg, but he gets distracted

❧ he sees the blood running from your neck wounds down onto your chest.

❧ something about it sets this man off because he’s immediately shooting his cum so deep inside you, none of it’s spilling out

❧ he’s not stopping tho

❧ he’s just wrapping a hand around your neck and fucking you harder

❧ he takes pictures of his hand around your throat— blood smeared fingerprints and all

❧ when he’s finally breed you to his liking he’s sliding down your body

❧ kisses on your inner thighs turning into fangs sinking into you once again

❧ aftercare is 100/10 !!

❧ healing your wounds with his blood & pressing lingering kisses where they use to adorn your skin

❧ he’s running you a bubble bath with your favorite essential oils

❧ getting you loads of water & food to replenish from all the blood loss

❧ whispering reassuring words to you as you cuddle on his chest and start to drift off to sleep

❧ “we are sooo doing that again.”

❧ “shut up and go to sleep!”

❧ “…but yeah we’re definitely doing that again.”

[blond-jerk-tourney]

Strawberry Bracket: Round 2, Poll 5

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Dio Brando

A certified BITCH. You could use any adjective of that little list of yours on him and be correct

I know you said more jerks and not villains but like. He's like one of the og blonde assholes. He's just an absolute prick.

Kicked a dog for no fucking reason and then became an immortal vampire guy, killed his brother and then spent 200 years in a coffin in the depths of the ocean. Was eventually rescued. Didn’t change at all. Rest in peace Danny. Never forget never forgive

He's such a diva. He's terrible from episode one. He burns the protag's dog and tries to poison his father to get money. You think that's bad enough? It gets worse. He turns himself willingly into a vampire to be even more of a problem. From there, he lounges mysteriously in the dark and makes his minions attack one family over and over for GENERATIONS. He's literally the villain and the drama of every part. And even after he's defeated? His LEG BONE and a priest who was very gay for his blonde jerk self keep causing issues. Most mean girl ever. What an icon. He's also canonically bi

Char Aznable

He's extremely blonde and he's a total asshole. he has had a gay thing with 2 people and tried to kill both of them. he makes a new identity and its arguably more blonde and more of an asshole. look up Quattro Bajeena

Snooty little motherfucker supreme. "I have never betrayed anyone in my life" says man who spent his whole career lying to people. He's in love with his rival and he won't admit it. He's my silly rabbit. He is the "I came here to laugh at you" guy

[misguidedasgardian]

From the Ashes (PROLOGUE)

MASTERLIST

Summary: You were found amongst the ashes 

Warnings: Supernatural (and all that comes with it), monsters of all kinds, pyrokinesis, murder, child endangerment, impersonating a law enforcer, guns, might miss some warnings

Wordcount: 4,4 k

Notes: Look, of all my fics, I want them to be as “realistic” and faithful to the story as I can… BUT… this will be different, there are 15 seasons of SPN, and I get so stressed with the devils and angels and all. So… this will be, some chill scooby-doo monster hunting shenanigans, this will not be faithful (much) to the story, this will be about cases and solving them, and about John as well… slow burn

1987, Jackson Hole, Wyoming 

John Winchester was at an impasse, he had never seen everything like it. 

He had come here in this lost town in the middle of Wyoming because of a lead, given to him by his friend, the local Sheriff, people were starting to go missing, and then found dead, that sort of thing. Bear attacks, officially…. unofficially? Vampires, new ones, because of the mess they were leaving behind. 

It didn’t took him long to find the vamp either

Nothing out of the ordinary so far, though, he thought vampires were gone, almost extinct according to his friend, so he was pleased to help with that. to make it official

But everything really started turning strange when he was trailing that Vamp back to his nest, he would have taken them all down right then and there, he only had to wait until morning and wipe them out, but they didn’t stay put, they were on the move, a very quick move, not only one, all of them. A single man leading them drew his attention, he was wearing an expensive looking suit, he drove a mercedes. He had to be a vampire, because of how he moved easily amongst them.

They moved out of town and the all-you-can-eat buffé midtown represented. He followed them right along a road that left the city, and then another dirt road across a forest, and beyond.

There, in the middle of a clearing, stood a big farmhouse. 

He called for backup for his friend, but it was going to take a while, he was busy with official stuff. That put John in another bind, he couldn’t face them all alone, not without Sheriff Jeffersons, or Daniel Elkins and his special gun. He stood there, waiting, in the woods, with the lights and the motor still turned off. 

He would never admit it, he was ashamed, and to this day, it would be one of the things he regretted the most, he snoozed on the job. The sounds from the woods lulled him to sleep, and the House, even though had been boarded with a group of vampires, was quiet.

The rumble of the cars woke him up, not even an hour later.

He looked at the house some more, but everything was quiet, and in the dark, so he grabbed his gun with silver bullets, and his knife with a bottle of dead man’s blood, and he ventured towards the property. 

It was a nice house, which surprised him, no gates or big fences around it though… it was all out in the open…

…So was the door, opened for everyone who wanted to go inside. He entered slowly, everything was in silence, quiet… except… from a horrible smell that lingered. He walked through the foyer and into the house, his gun up, the living room to his left was empty, so was the dining room to the right, and the kitchen in the far left… he ended up in a study, the smell was stronger there because… there it was… 

A half charred body of a woman. Her face was still… untouched, which allowed him to go near, and check, she wasn’t a vampire, he noticed as he lifted her top lip. But she was dead… very dead…a human woman, gone. A sense of dread and guilt was settling inside of him, but there was no time for that now, his senses were still much activated in hunter mode.

He looked around and found pictures hanging on the wall of the cozy room, of her and a man, and a baby, and some others of a little girl, the same child, who had clearly grown up… he looked for the rest of the rooms, the second floor, there was nobody there, the house was empty, he found the little girl’s room, but… not little girl anywhere. 

The vamps didn’t take anyone with them, so he could just assume… he couldn’t assume anything

If she was simply a victim why didn’t they just… fed off of her? Why leave her like this?, why go to the trouble of burning her? This seemed personal.

He came back to the study, to see if he had missed something, thinking about calling the police… his friend. 

He looked back at the woman, sadly. But this time, what also drew his attention is that only her body was burned… not the floor, not the carpet, nor did he see any accelerants around, it looked like a supernatural affair, aside from the vampire part… but what he did see, is that when he moved the carpet to look at it more closely… There were marks on the wooden floor.

He looked up to the big bookcase above him, and figure it out

He moved it with difficulty… but it yielded… and behind it, he found an iron door…

This wasn’t a good sign… Iron was known to stop a plethora of monsters and creatures

He opened the steel doors with a grunt and all of his force, wondering how that frail looking woman could have moved this on her own. He expected to find some sort of weapon, or beast, or an undiscovered creature ready to jump him, but instead, he gasped, opening his eyes wide and shaking with surprise… when he found that he least expected. 

His legs shook with uncertainty and his eyes shined with unshed tears when he saw a little girl curled up in the corner of the safe space, she looked up at him with eyes filled with tears, she couldn’t have been older than 7, she was the one from the pictures, doe eyes and chubby cheeks, lips in the form of a wobbly pout 

“Where's my mommy?” she cried 

“Sweetheart, are you ok?” he asked, and she just nodded. He didn’t know what to do, she… this… little girl, was inside an Iron box, this was no coincidence, she could be this supernatural being, she could be… 

“My mommy” she cried again, but John didn’t have the heart to tell her her mother was gone, but wise beyond her years, the girl seemed to notice his sadness. “Oh” she whined, dropping some more tears down her chubby cheeks. Against everything he knew, against everything he believed in… he lowered his guard

“C´mere” he called, opening his arms and without even thinking, she jumped in between them, hugging him tightly, curling up against his chest. His body seemed to be working of his own accord, because he could have never done that under different circumstances, this little girl… was something else…

“M’scared” she whined. He shushed her, caressing her hair

“It’s ok little one” , he hushed softly, “i’m going to get you out of here, alright?”

He didn’t know why, or how, knowing the context in which he found her he could bet that she was also a supernatural being, but even against his hunter nature, he hugged that kid against his chest, drawn to her like he had ever been drawn to anything else. With his fingers crossed, at least metaphorically, he exited the iron room, and the girl only seemed to hang onto him more tightly. He made sure to hide the little one’s face against his chest, so she wouldn’t look at the scene in the study.

“Where’s your daddy?”, he asked softly

“He went away”, she said, “mommy said he went to heaven”. she said so innocently, it broke his heart

Well, fuck

He couldn’t leave her, not here, but he didn’t know what to do… he could call the police… but… they would ask questions, and leaving her here was out of the question, she was just a child.

If she was a supernatural being, he didn’t know what she was, there was still a small chance she was a normal kid  There was a bigger chance her family knew about the supernatural, judging by the Iron box, it would have made sense if her mother was, and this turned out to be personal for the vampires to come after her. 

There were so many theories working in John’s mind right now.

“Do you have any family, darling?”, he asked, as he took her out of the house. She shook her head. But now, that wasn’t much to go on, she could not know, she was still little.

He walked back to the Impala, and buckled her in in the copilot seat. Then, he called the Sheriff back, asking him to send people to the house, and asking him about information on the family. He was asked to keep the girl with him until the next morning, from this time to tomorrow, so they could gather information, if there was any, about her family.

John, after hanging up with Henry, he climbed to the pilot seat. He didn’t even realize, but he was shaking, his hands trembling as he grabbed the steering wheel, and started the car. He looked to the side, to the little girl, and then to the other side, to the door, and then back at the road.

He had stashed in his car holy water, salt, copper, anything, all sorts of weapons for all sorts of monsters, he eyed her back, carefully. 

She was just trying to look at the road over the tall board of the car. She was still sniffing, her eyes big with tears, he made his heart sink. The little girl just lost her mom, she probably didn’t have anyone else.

“How old are you?”, he asked, the girl just looked at him

“Six”, she answered simply, and then she just kept looking at the road in the dark, lighted up by the yellow lights of the Impala.

He stopped by the local diner, and bought her dinner. Also, he bought a couple of burgers for his sons, who were waiting for him back at the motel. He insisted she stayed in the car, and before he gave her the food, he sneaked holy water in her strawberry milkshake. 

John watched her eat a burger, fries and sip on the strawberry milkshake, no reaction. So, demonic creatures were discarded. 

He needed to get back to his sons. His mind was saying that this was a mistake, taking this girl with him, however… he couldn’t leave her. He didn’t even understand it himself, he couldn’t bring himself to abandon the girl to the authorities… At least until tomorrow

He came back to the motel were his sons were waiting for him, the trembling girl holding onto his hand

“Who are you?”, asked Dean, frowning at the little girl

“I’m (y/n)”, she said softly, Dean seemed to… be content by now… going back to watch TV, and Sam was… didn’t understand much of what was going on. He was only four. The girl looked back at him.

“Those are my sons, Dean, and Sam”, he introduced, and the little girl just smiled and nodded

Was he just going to… keep this kid? 

Dean seemed pleased as he let her give them the burgers and fries, and he watched them from the corner, sipping a beer as they talked and then curled up together and falling asleep on the bed. She seemed.. normal… she didn’t flinch when he slipped holy water into her milkshake, she ate normally, she looked normal… was she a hunter’s kid? there was a still very real chance she was just a child. 

The very next day, he was called into the Sheriff office, with not very happy news. There was no record of family, her grandparents on both sides were gone, her parents didn’t have any siblings, so, no uncles or aunts… 

“I received a call nonetheless”, he said shortly, “some relatives asking about the girl”

“Can you corroborate?”, he asked then

“It’s hard, they are her mother’s cousins or something, but hey… this is good news, she is just a little girl, that poor woman was just… in the wrong place at the wrong time”, he said simply

“At her house?”, he said, he should be relieved, the case was closed, but he wasn’t, “the vamps wanted the girl, the mother hid her, she… is different, she has to be…”

“I don’t know what to tell you, there is a birth certificate of her”, he said, sliding it over the table, “a very real and corroborated birth certificate, from Wyoming”, he said, “the story of her parents check out too”

“What about the relatives?”, he asked, checking the document, a normal name, a normal date, nothing out of the ordinary.

“They are on their way, should be here in a couple of hours”, he said simply. Not knowing what his friend was truly thinking. “Why don’t you take the kids for a while until this family can come and pick her up?”, he offered with a shy smile. John grunted, not liking where this was going. But he returned to his kids. 

Three kids ate more than a group of piranhas, John thought as he took them for pizza. Wyoming was a nice place, he thought, looking at the beautiful snowy mountains, the green pastures all around, the beautiful valley, then he looked at his kids, eating happily. The girl had this sad look on her face, but she seemed content. 

Time went by quickly, and soon, he was back at the police station, when he parked the car, he saw a mini-van parked outside, a pretty picture, he thought. His friend was speaking to a couple, then he gestured to the car where they were. 

John excited the car, his sons stood inside, only taking the little girl

“Who are they?”. She asked, looking at the couple, grabbing onto his hand tightly. 

“You don’t know them sweety?”, John asked, she shook her head 

“There you are!”, shrieked the extremely happy woman, she looked nice enough. But (y/n) hid behind John. 

“I don’t know you!”, she accused

“I’m your aunt sweety”, she said through gritted teeth. John looked back at the car, where Sam and Dean were waiting, they did not seem impressed, their hands on the window of the impala, watching the scene. 

John turned to meet the couple, who were trying to coax the little girl from going with them

“Leave me alone!”, she screamed

“Don’t be a brat now, we are taking you to your new home”, said the man, again, this couple looks like a picture perfect pair, like they are just coming out of a Benetton catalog… but something was off about them. “we have your things from your house, your favorite blanket, your clothes”, but she only shrieked in response 

Sheriff Jefferson tried to calm them down, both parties,  hands in the air and a soft smile on his face

“Now now, Petersons, why don’t we go inside and start some paperwork?”, he said, trying to invite the couple in

“Who are you? Why do you have our niece?”, the unknown man started attacking John this time. 

“She is a collaborator”, explained the Sheriff, “please”, he said standing between the couple and John and the girl, pointing towards the building, the little girl was invited to follow, but she didn’t want to go. 

He felt (y/n)  grab onto his jeans tightly, with too much strength for a little girl. 

“I don’t want to go with them”, she said shakily

“Sweety, they are your family”, he said gently, but she shook her head

“I don’t have a family!”, they might be estranged, but he couldn’t take her word for it, could he?

It took him a while, but he finally convinced her, he even had to go inside with her, but after he made her enter the office with the “Petersons”, he managed to sneak away, out of the office, and out of the station.

He should be relieved, he though, as he walked back to his car, he couldn’t keep her like she was some sort of puppy, he already had two kids, he couldn't possibly handle one more, he was on a path of revenge, and he was just started, getting good at it… only four years on the road… he couldn’t take on one more, he just couldn’t… he got into his car, and with a last look at the station, he turned around on his car and started to drive away

His boys said nothing, they only looked at him. 

“Are we leaving (y/n)?”, Dean asked

“She is with her family now”, he said simply, but not convinced. 

He tried to get his mind on the road ahead of him, he already had a lead on a new case, but he felt the intense gaze of his children on him, and when he looked at the rearview mirror, the station seemed to be staring back at him, the van… it was so weird…

“God dammit”, he muttered under his breath, turning the car around. That seemed to please them. The Impala brake in front of the building, and he got out of the car in a jump

He couldn’t just leave. 

And he was going to be so glad he didn’t. 

He heard a commotion inside the station, shouting, people screaming. 

They were not a Benetton catalog couple after all

Fangs were drawn.

Vampires

There were only two, against John, a Sheriff and his apprentice. (y/n) was curled up against a corner in the office, screaming, scared out of her life, John had a bitter flashback from when he first found her, inside that Iron safe space. 

They finished the vamps without much effort, and soon (y/n) had her small arms around John’s neck, not wanting to let go. 

“Take the girl and go”, Sheriff Jefferson  said, “don’t lose her”, John nodded, grabbed the bag ��Petersons” had made her, and he also grabbed her documents the sheriff had gathered, put it in the impala next to his small arsenal, and then… he grabbed her and his kids and left right then and there, never looking back.

As he drove back to Bobby’s, and despite everything that happened, he realized that he had no answers, only more questions. The alarm between hunters had been raised and some were going to show up to slay the vampires, but he couldn’t be the one to do the work

He had a more important job at the moment. He thought, looking back at (y/n) chatting with Sam about their favorite animal they saw in a book. 

He had no answers about her, only more questions 

“So Vampires gathered to slaughter a woman” resumed Bobby, as he met with John and his other good friend. 

“It's like that woman was their common enemy” he told them, looking out the window how the mysterious girl played with his sons, “They didn’t eat her or mangled her, they… I didn’t get to see but when I reached the house I saw her body cremated, like she had been burn up in flames”

“So she is another kind of monster” Bobby’s best friend chipped in

“But why would they team up like that?” Asked Bobby, but John didn’t listen as he kept looking at the kids. Dean and Sam looked at the little girl and she seemed excited, her body language told him she wanted to show them something, they walked towards an old wooden pallet. And he gasped in surprise when the little girl drew a small flame off her hand and set the pallet on fire

“SHIT!” John screamed, jumping from his chair and running towards the backyard door

Bobby followed him close by to find the kids surprised at their new friend’s trick

“How do you do that?” asked Sam, but John grabbed him and put him behind him to protect him just as he grabbed Dean. The little girl looked at them confused, like she did nothing wrong nor weird

“What are you?” asked John. She just looked back at them with her doe eyes

“I'm sorry!”, she said quickly, tears falling down her eyes

“What are you?”, he asked again, more calmly 

“I don’t know!”, she said, but he could tell she didn’t know what to answer. 

“Dad? what are you doing?”, asked Dean, releasing himself from his father’s hold. John’s eyes were towards the girl who looked back at him crying

Could he have been so mistaken? Was she a dangerous monster?

“I’m sorry for doing that”, she said simply, “I didn’t know that was important”, she explained, thinking this whole ordeal was because she set fire to a pile of useless wood

“Have you always been able to do that?”, he asked gently, more calmed, since she didn’t seemed to present any danger. 

“Set things on fire?”, she asked softly, “yes”, was she the one that… no… that woman was her mother, how could she possibly have done that to her mother and then locked herself up in that box?

“You can’t do that anymore”, he said softly

“Alright”, she said softly, “I’m sorry”

He watched wide-eyed how the kids just went back inside Bobby’s house

He followed them back inside to an amazed Bobby and his friend. Was he insane for letting the girl near his sons? he was, but somehow, he wasn’t able to separate him

“What monsters do we know that are harmless but can set things on fire?”, he asked out loud 

They raided the entirety of Bobby’s library, he even called some people, but nothing seemed too believable. 

“Does she… feed? like other monsters?”, asked Bobby, already tired 

“She eats with the boys”, John said, “and since the three days we have been with her she hasn’t shown signs of wanting to… feed on something else, nor to be hungry for souls or human flesh”, he said, looking back at the living room where his kids… Dean, Sam and the girl were curled up together like three cute kittens on the couch watching TV, “she sleeps normally, I have watched them, there is nothing strange about that…”

“I see”, they both looked at the children again, what surprised John the most is that even Dean had taken to her, he, who didn’t like anyone, nobody, was hugging her protectively against him. “She is so… precious…”, even Bobby, it only took one look from the little girl for him to go to town to get the three of them ice cream, “what if she is like… a siren?”

“A Siren”, John muttered, unconvinced, they looked at her again, “she doesn’t look like a Siren to me, Bobby, neither has she tried to convince us to do suicidal or homicidal things, just get her ice cream”, he said, “and sirens can’t set things on fire”

“Another type of monster then”, he said. “a witch”

“Witches aren’t born, they are made”, he said simply, “she is too young”. They kept reading, until Jim Murphy called them a couple of hours later, when the kids were asleep and they were deep in their fifth beer 

“A phoenix”, muttered Bobby to John after he hang up, he didn’t believe it himself

“Apparently Phoenixes are hated by other monsters, they are very special creatures, immortals, they grow up like a normal beings and then when they reach a mature age they stay like that” Bobby read a book he didn’t even realized he had, on mythical lore, he himself believed to be bullshit

“I thought they were mythical creatures, legends” John said unconvinced, “How is she…?”, they looked at the kids, now sleeping on the ouch 

“I don’t know man” he answered, looking at the same scene as his friend, “But, I believe that with iron…” John turned to see Bobby with an iron knife in his hand. He grabbed his wrist and shook his head as a no

“We shouldn't kill her, she is just a kid”, he said softly 

“A kid that could turn into a monster” responded Bobby. 

“She doesn't eat human flesh, she doesn’t eat souls or haunt people…”

“He could set you, or the boys on fire”, he said severely

“I’m not wasting an innocent child who just lost her family”, he said severely 

“John, what are you doing?”, he asked

“I can’t do it Bobby”, he said, his friend only nodded, and they kept reading, but no matter how much they read, they couldn’t find a chapter on its book that spoke about how or if phoenixes could control their victims, they were no victims, except those who angered them and ended up burned 

A few paragraphs, that is all there was. John didn’t know if finally knowing what she was was any better, he only got more questions. But the fact that monsters hated phoenixes made a bit more sense about the vampires. 

So life needed to go on, if John wasn't going to… “get rid” of the girl, there was only one thing left to do. 

John had another lead, another case, he needed to go on the road again, so the very next day, over breakfast with the kids, he broke the news.

“We are leaving”, he said gently, to see their reactions, the girl’s… wasn’t good

“Are you leaving me too?” she asked, about to broke into tears

“I have to work” he explained softly, Bobby grumbled something on the sort of “she is not staying here”

“Please don’t leave me!”, she screeched, standing up, running around the table, hugging into his legs, “is it because I set that thing on fire? Please, I won’t do it again! I’m sorry!” John’s jeans got wet with her tears, and he exchanged looks with Bobby

“I can’t take her with me Bobby” he explained, they both looked at the little girl, looking back at them with wide eyes

“She can’t stay…” Bobby said but not much convinced

“Bobby, it’s just going to be for a little while, I can't take her with me and leaving her alone with the boys it's just… too risky”

“And leaving her with me?”

“Just don’t upset her…or she is going to burn your house down” he smiled apologetically. He then turned to the little girl, “Sweetheart” he greeted the little one, leaning in and kissing her forehead. “it’s just for a little while”

“But I married Sammy, you can’t take him,” she said, frowning. John chuckled

“What do you mean?”, he asked softly

“I married them because they asked me”, said Dean, not impressed by the scene, eating his cereal

“Darling, I can’t leave you alone with the children if I don’t know you are not going to burn anything”, he said

“My mommy used to put me gloves”, she offered, “I won’t burn anything, I promise”

John and Bobby shared looks again. She was with them now, they couldn’t abandon her, the only thing they could do… was to embrace her into their world…. and pray it didn’t went poorly 

[whumpsday]

K&J: Kane's Whumptober Bites #13

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, reluctant whumper, knives, torture, burns, begging

@whumptober Day 13 (Alt): Hunting / Shaking / Reluctant Whumper

-

This hunter was new, and he was weak.

Not weak in the physical sense– not any more than all humans are, that was. But he was reluctant, Kane could see it: the way his eyebrows creased, the way his lips pursed, the nervous way he held the knife stuck with bits of burnt flesh.

It was something Kane had learned to spot. Had to learn, for his own survival. Hunters like this were the ones to beg for it to stop for today, for a break, for a lesser punishment. The ones who responded to desperate eyes and rasped pleas. Of course, they were far rarer in this place, and most had left early-on when he was still naively defiant.

The signs were more obvious on this hunter than any he’d ever seen.

Kane looked up from where he laid strapped to the board, arms and legs pulled taut and banded to the corners with hot, unforgiving silver. He’d long since given up pulling at it, resigned as his wrists and ankles charred.

“Please,” he begged, choked-up with tears. “Please, sir, I’ll be good. Just–”

No more would be an audacious request, this early on. The hunter had barely started carving into him. DG, the sizzling mark on his collarbone read, bloodless and cauterized. Probably initials. He’d almost every combination of common letters he could think of burned or sliced into him.

As badly as he wanted to plead for no more, he relented for something more realistic. “P-please can I be unbound? I’ll stay still, I promise. I won’t resist. Please, it hurts.”

“Uh– I dunno…” The new hunter looked over, searching for approval from the hunter who’d come down with him.

The older man shook his head. “It’s your decision, Dawsey. Don’t look at me. This isn’t the field, you can do whatever the hell you want. You can keep carving it up, wuss out, or put it out in the sun for all I care.”

Kane sobbed, trembling with the terror of it all. “Please no, mercy, mercy please. I’ll be good!” he cried. “Don’t do it, sir!”

Dawsey looked down at him warily. It was blatant this hunter didn’t possess the sadism of his usual visitors, but was desperate to impress. Kane knew all too well what it was like to be so eager to prove himself like that. He couldn’t believe he’d ever cared so much about it, as if his parents’ opinions were anything compared to the safety he’d taken so for granted.

“Fine,” the young hunter decided, putting too much effort into making himself sound decisive. “But you step out of line and you’re going right back in.”

Kane let out a shaky sigh of relief. “I won’t, sir. Thank you, thank you for your mercy.”

Dawsey released the bindings, though the impressions of the cuffs remained burnt into his skin. Kane only dared move his limbs enough to keep them off the silver, then laid still. He was sure this one wouldn’t be too bad, all considered. His tormentor would relent after a short while if he took the pain well.

He shuddered, bracing himself as the silver knife plunged back into his flesh.

[jennifersminds]

bestie what Lana Del Rey songs fit tvd characters or just tvd to you?

my bestie, my love, thank you so much for this ask !!!

as someone who's endlessly obnoxious about both tvd and lana del rey this is quite literally a dream come true so-,

SONGS FITTING TVD AS WHOLE

Video Games

"It's you, it's you, it's all for you. Everything I do, I tell you all the time"

tvd at it's core is about people doing unjustifiable things for 'love'. Whether i choose to read some relationships as more of a predatory obsession, the crux of this show is damaged grieving people sacrificing and further damaging themselves and others in the pursuit of it, see the mikaelsons with eachother and the salvatore's with Elena and Elena with basically everyone. And I've always read Video Games as both one of the most beautiful love songs of all time but also as an acknowledgment of codependence and lost potential. The song romanticises monotony and mundane life, which is fair. but there's a touch of melancholy beneath the surface of picture perfect normalcy. much like tvd itself.

Love

Look at you kids with your vintage music Comin' through satellites while cruisin' You're part of the past, but now you're the future Signals crossing can get confusing

...

Look at you kids, you know you're the coolest The world is yours and you can't refuse it Seen so much, you could get the blues But that don't mean that you should abuse it

following that theme,

"part of the past but now you're the future," Could refer to any of the vampire's in the show but I personally love it when thinking of Elena and the doppelganger's before her. In the background of all of history but with an endless future before her. "You could get the blues, But that don't mean that you should abuse it," EVERY FKN KID ON THAT SHOW. And yes I mean kid, the MF gang were children. And they did, in fact, get the blues and abuse it.

ELENA

Norman Fucking Rockwell

"you're just a man, it's just what you do, you're head in your hands as you colour me blue."

Anyone who's read my endless rambling before knows where I'm going with this but, jfc the salvatore's !!! Both Stefan and Damon (and canon as a whole but wtv) view their mistreatment of Elena as something unavoidable. Following the theme of horrific acts in the name of love from earlier, Stefan didn't have a choice in entering Elena's life. To him, it was his right, his purpose. (he had to know her).

Despite Elena being a grieving child who did not need any more bullshit in her life. He had too. And when that later caused even further turmoil, both from his own actions and indirect, unintended consequences. He metaphorically put his head in his hands, it wasn't just her suffering but him. In fact, if he really thought about it, later in canon, that is. It was almost equally her fault what happened. From his POV atleast.

Damon basically follows all the same beats but is more open about it, bemoaning his own lost chances with Elena as something completely disconnected to his very purposeful and avoidable choices to cause her pain. He's impulsive, it's not his fault.

"Goddamn, man child You act like a kid even though you stand six foot two"

Damon could only dream of being 6'2 but you get it.

Pretty When You Cry

"I'll wait for you, babe, you don't come through, babe You never do, babe, that's just what you do"

For one, she is very pretty when she cries, and two, see above.

ELIJAH (essentially every 'she fucked that old man' song in ldr's discography)

Million Dollar Man

"Someone as dangerous, tainted and flawed as you,"

"You're screwed up and brilliant Look like a million dollar man So why is my heart broke?"

He is screwed up and brilliant and he does break my heart.

BONNIE

Season of the Witch

Obviously, like... (also Davina, I never talk about her but that's my girl)

Pretty When You Cry

"I'll wait for you, babe, you don't come through, babe You never do, babe, that's just what you do"

Similarly too Elena, she's also pretty but the thesis of Bonnie's character is unfortunately being let down by the people around her. If tvd hadn't had jplec as a showrunner we probably would've gotten some proper character arc about that before season eight but...

ELEJAH

Cinnamon Girl

"There's things I wanna say to you But I'll just let you live Like if you hold me without hurting me You'll be the first who ever did"

kill me. literally fucking kill me like it's them fr.

BEKLENA

Doin' Time (yes it's a cover but Lana owns it tbf)

"Me and my girl, we got this relationship I love her so bad, but she treats me like shit"

The toxic girlfriends I deserved but wtv.

"I'd like to hold her head underwater"

Because she drowned her.

REBEKAH

Old Money

"But if you send for me, you know I'll come And if you call for me, you know I'll run I'll run to you, I'll run to you I'll run, run, run I'll come to you, I'll come to you"

Stuck in an endless cycle of finding freedom and falling back to help Klaus when he needs it.

"The power of youth is on my mind Sunsets, small town, I'm out of time Will you still love me when I shine From words but not from beauty My father's love was always strong My mother's glamour lives on and on Yet still inside, I felt alone For reasons unknown to me"

Never ending quest for humanity and mortality, her eventual fate of taking the cure. The loneliness of her thousand years etc

Honorable mentions for, Young and Beautiful (pretty much everyone's mortal x immortal ships anthem but specifically the Klarolines fuck with it so hard which I repect). Say Yes to Heaven, also works for literally every ship but it's always very Kolvina to me.

[supersources]

interview with the vampire (2022): episode 4, the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child's demanding.

tw: murder, death, blood, strong language, all vampire / horror things.

* i can't tell you that... i can't tell you that either.

* your doctor has been consulted and has given consent.

* would you follow me to the reading room?

* quite the house plant.

* the interior designer hired was a sentimentalist.

* please, wear gloves when handling the material.

* we suggest you begin on the left.

* their blood is bitter, it almost makes you feel sick to drink it.

* i tried to be good.

* i closed my eyes and waited for the fire to take me too.

* he was beautiful, strong, and fast and he carried me like i was made of feathers.

* i guessed i was in heaven, so i waited for the pain to go away and for my mama to join me.

* she's going cold, what do we do?

* i don't know where to bite, her body is all charred.

* she's just a kid.

* and she'll be what? a lap dog?

* you were ready to abandon our home, now you want a third.

* i just need her not to die.

* and then i tasted it, and right away i felt as strong as a street car.

* i realized what what i thought was heaven was just a nice room.

* you got some of your own i can have?

* so, this is my new house?

* i heard your cry for help. we can hear people's thought.

* prove it. what am i thinking now?

* so you can hear my thoughts, but he can't? does that make him the dumb one?

* if he makes you, he can't hear your thoughts anymore.

* he relies on my words to understand me, just like a human.

* i'm not a human no more, am i?

* well, i can see where this is going.

* you'll do it too, in time, my little milkweed. i'll teach you. but not if we're going to have family secrets?

* are we a family?

* but with no secrets.

* they had nice clothes, a nice auto-carriage, and a funny way of being nice to each other.

* so, i'm supposed to kill him?

* i'm not sure how i feel about that pleated skirt.

* looks like she takes after me...

* you're not a girl, you're a devil!

* you have to stop while they're alive.

* who is it she takes after?

* confusion, regret, euphoria... you'll wake up feeling a lot of things. guilt... a bad taste in your mouth from the cop which again you should never choose.

* what did i just say?

* don't eat cops.

* you gotta listen to your elders when they're talking.

* hungry? you just ate a man twice your size.

* i'm so hungry... i think i'm gonna die. is that how vampires die? of starvation?

* some sleep is what she needs.

* sedation is what she needs.

* you suck them like frog legs and burn them like trash.

* i gotta go to bed when the rest of the world wakes up.

* have you seen my slippers?

* must every night end like this?

* y'all get tired before i do.

* why does she talk to the book?

* the sun goes up, we go down. that's never gonna change.

* keeping you safe, little waif.

* the book is my friend.

* the book is her friend.

* the book is a book.

* put the pen down.

* when i'm tired, i'm not so kind.

* and where are all the vampires at?

* she's gonna pass real soon. we're trying to accustom her to the thought of... going home to god.

* it's so soft!

* it's just me, my pen, my brain, my heart, and the blood of the street car conductor i drained after he got off work. thank you, street car driver. i hope they got more of you at your company to fill in for you.

* don't shush me.

* i missed you.

* you missed me?

* he doesn't give good answers to questions, sits on the truth like it's his chair or something. i thought we weren't supposed to keep secrets.

* sometimes, old people don't like talking much about the past. sometimes, you gotta be careful where you dig, you understand?

* how does it work, love between two men?

* you ever liked girls?

* i don't know how you do that... you can't like the taste.

* it's not just what you eat. you can kill quick and painless, or you can get extravagant.

* there've been times when i've gone too far myself.

* some killing has consequences.

* i used to get a little caught up in human affairs.

* how does muhammad feel about vampires?

* how is your reading coming along?

* i interrupted, you were praying.

* i have my own room now.

* still, you wouldn't believe how time flies when you got people to eat and money to spend.

* we do like mortals do. we fight, we eat, we laugh, we sleep, we love!

* never seen a dead one look so peaceful... do you know what her last words were?

* who are you here with, honey?

* you have a kid?

* we need to talk about the house.

* over the cold body of our mama. i was wondering why i got the invite this time.

* well, good we got each other's backs... make you proud, you hear?

* the smell is awful.

* wakes were invented in places where it snowed.

* i'll have the papers drawn up.

* now, here's a treat. i think you're ready for. this is what the meat calls a 'lovers lane', and by my estimation no blood is sweeter. young people, swollen with passion, denied spirits by this senseless prohibition, park along this lonely stretch to contemplate that most mysterious of mathematical equations: how one plus one... becomes one.

* you've been too sheltered, my belladonnic beauty.

* did you just crawl out of the swamp or something?

* there's something back there, something evil!

* she's a prodigious killer, why you wanna limit her is beyond comprehension.

* i jumped a girl in between speakeasies, i wear it better though.

* don't do something he would do.

* happy hunting!

* i'm sorry, i got so scared i almost fainted. i thought the flowers might bring me back a bit.

* i'm glad you're back.

* i just wanted to say thank you for driving me home.

* i had to make sure you wouldn't faint again.

* i wanna know what his laugh sounds like when it's all the way.

* i'm surprised your fancy parents even let you out at night.

* they know i can take care of myself.

* you almost got trampled by a horse.

* no running in the house!

* i finally got a few secrets of my own.

* are you blocking me?

* do you not like it?

* i guess you're probably used to having ice cream any time you want.

* so, is this what you always do for a first date? take a girl out for some ice cream?

* no way you're older than me.

* everyone in my family looks young for their age.

* i'm tired of waiting!

* you don't even look like a girl... you're an angel.

* it's easy to get carried away when you're young and in love.

* stop squirming and watch. remember this, his face as it melts. this is why we never get close to mortals. because sooner or later, they end up dead.

* i had a daughter.

* the oh-so-delicate balance of our oh-so-delicate household was shattered.

* and what should i have done? tucked his body into the coffin with her?

* it's funnier when you fight in french.

[karatekels]

Valek TIG. Reader is Jack’s daughter (18+). The church put the cross at a church at a catholic boarding school for slayer’s children in training to be future slayers, trying to keep everything that needed guarding together. But in reality Valek is able to get the cross and a definite reason to keep Jack engaged in the fight. What would be better than turning Jack’s only family against him. Enemies to lovers.

I'm SO excited to finally get to this one! I hope that it's worth the wait - I'm anticipating it to be 4 chapters in total, and this is definitely going to be the shortest one.

TW: Indoctrination by the Catholic Church, implied death, blood (very minor... for now)

---

Heirloom - Chapter 1

---

Deep in the centre of Tuscany sits the medieval town of Monteriggioni, perched on a hill and surrounded by high stone walls. A centuries-old fortress, it has long been a place of protection for its allies, and can become fully self-sufficient during times of trouble.

It has been operating as a self-sufficient town for decades now, its gardens plentiful.

While official records claim a population of ten thousand, the number of people living in this little city fluctuates like the ebb and flow of a powerful tide.

The comings and goings of its occupants are a well-kept secret, known only to those who are allowed access to the city in the first place.

Within the walls of Monteriggioni, the next generations of Slayers receive their training.

To the public, this education is given a generic name of importance, one that oozes prestige but does not invite questions: The International School of Siena.

To anyone that looked over the curtain wall of the battlements, they would observe a quiet town with more than its fair share of churches, a large fortress at its centre. In practice, each church was a classroom, the fortress a dormitory to thousands of children and young adults, all slayers-in-training.

Some were orphans taken under the protection of the Catholic Church, others were the children of slayers, descendants of the Crusaders.

All were soldiers. Or at least, they would be before they were allowed beyond the city’s walls.

Those responsible for the Scholars of Monteriggioni (as they were known) held various roles: providers, priests, parents. But above all, they were protectors and educators.

And when you had completed your scholarship and were done being protected and educated by the Elders, you waited.

You, Y/N Crow, have been waiting for years.

You aren’t exactly thrilled about it.

You had spent the first thirteen years of your life raised by a single mother that had done everything possible to keep you from the dark world your father operated within. You hadn’t even met the man until a few months after the fire that had destroyed your life and taken your mother from you.

The Catholic Church had claimed you as a ward with the written permission of your biological father immediately upon your mother’s death, a strange and unwelcome presence as you had not been raised with any sort of faith in your life. Having nothing left in America, you had been relocated to the tiny town of Monteriggioni and introduced to the terrifying reality of vampires that walked among us in the night.

You hadn’t believed the stories until you were forced to witness the execution of a goon with your own eyes, the memory of their screech and charred body burned into your mind forever afterward. You had spent the next ten years being moulded into a warrior, a weapon wielded by the Church to exterminate the unholy scourge of the earth that was the growing vampire population.

And you’ve spent more than two years now waiting to be recruited so you could leave this place.

How was it that you, daughter of the infamous Jack Crow, Master Vampire Hunter, hadn’t been added to a team yet? And even if the nepotism hadn’t helped you, you had excelled in your training. So what could possibly be the reason you were still stuck in Monteriggioni?

You suspect that your so-called father has something to do with it.

You really hate the man.

Where did he get off, taking you from your home and everything you’d known and forcing you to follow in his footsteps and then not even letting you out into the world to prove yourself? The best years of your life, the time when you were supposed to find yourself, had been unceremoniously taken from you, and for what?

With nothing better to do, you had taken to exploring the catacombs beneath the city as of late, trying to map out the complex system of tunnels you had grown up on top of. You would hardly say that you were even an amateur cartographer at this point, but your ever-expanding maps made sense to you, at least.

Your focus over the last few months has been the western quadrant of the tunnels. Your exploration of the other areas have all yielded at least one secret passageway or hidden room, but you haven’t found any in this section yet.

These dark, underground halls had long stopped being scary to you, but today something feels different, like there is a chill in the air. While it had been early evening when you’d descended into the tunnels, night was likely only falling now, and you knew it took a few hours after sundown for the night’s chill to seep this far into the ground. You’d been dealing with an inexplicable draft as well, which shouldn’t have been possible underground, but there it was, playing with the flame of your torch again and threatening to extinguish it.

Ordinarily, you could fiddle with the fuel and the airway to create a smaller, more stable flame – with all of your training, you really only required the tiniest fraction of light to see in the dark – but the symbols marking secret entrances were small, and you needed as much light as you could get if you didn’t want to risk missing them entirely.

You were right to do so, coming across two small symbols shortly after reigniting the torch for the fourth time today: one in the shape of a crescent moon, the other an empty cup. You had seen the latter symbol before, here in the catacombs; it indicated the need for a blood sacrifice for the passageway to open. The moon, however, you had only seen in ancient texts, usually used to symbolize change or transformation due to the multiple phases of the lunar cycle. It probably had something to do with what was housed inside, which meant that it wasn’t one of the disused passageways that led out of the city.

Eagerly, the curiosity burning within you, you set your torch on a nearby sconce before unsheathing your dagger, slicing your thumb with the ease of long practice and pressing it against the symbol of the cup. When you remove your thumb from the wall, the symbol looks like a goblet of wine, and a deep rumbling can be heard before the wall slides open a crack.

Bracing yourself against the opposing wall, you press on the newly revealed door with your leg, pushing it open, the sound of stone on stone grating but not unpleasant. Stepping inside the room with your torch in hand once more, your breath is taken away by what’s inside.

Up on the old stone altar, dozens of candles guiding your gaze upwards like the bannisters of a divine staircase, is a large black crucifix, adorned with gold and rubies. A real, sacred relic, right before your very eyes, glittering magnificently in the torchlight…

Relics like these were rumoured to have been stashed all over the city over the centuries. You’d come across some of the altars where they had been kept during your explorations, but they had always been empty, the precious artifacts moved somewhere else or destroyed.

Did anyone even know that this was here? Should you know that this was here? What were you supposed to do know that you had come across it? You weren’t exactly supposed to be poking around down here; you hope you don’t get in trouble.

“Crow…” an unfamiliar voice, husky yet soft, purrs from behind you. You turn guiltily, hoping that a priest or cardinal isn’t about to condemn you for being down here.

But no one is there, waiting to pass judgement on you.

Something about that whisper of your name has your hair standing on end, and you suddenly feel quite claustrophobic in this stone room beneath the city. Time to get out of here.

Taking one last look at the cross, you take your torch in hand and return it to the sconce in the main hallway, moving to reseal the altar room. Your eyes skim past the symbols that marked this place, before doing a double take.

The cup is no longer red with your blood; instead, a dark stain fills the chalice, the way rock did when it got wet. A shudder runs through you, and you think that the spike in adrenaline will at least make it a bit easier for you to push the think wall of stone back into place.

“What is your name, child?” a new voice, this one equally as unfamiliar as the first, asks from the shadows. You shriek, diving for the torch and brandishing it against the darkness, looking for the speaker.

“Where are you?” you demand, fighting to keep your voice from wavering. “Show yourself!”

“Your name…” the voice demands again, high and clear like the ringing of a tuning fork.

“Y/N!” you cry out, wanting the voice to stop more than anything. “Y/N Crow.”

“Did I not tell you, Cassandra?” comes the deeper voice, clearly a male. “Her blood does tempt me so, just the same as her father’s. The blood of a Crusader…” the voice hisses, and you come to a horrifying realization.

Your blood sacrifice hadn’t been absorbed by the stone.

It had been licked clean.

Vampires were underneath Monteriggioni.

Sure enough, two figures slowly emerge from the shadows, staying just on the edge of where the light of the torch fades. From what you can see, both are dressed head to toe in black, only their faces and hands visible, bare and ghostly white. The female is short, shorter than you, with long auburn hair that falls in waves like spilt blood, while the male towers over you even from this distance, his hair dark and brushing his shoulders.

You don’t reply, you can’t reply. You can’t even breathe.

You just turn and run.

You think you hear the faint whispers of a conversation between them, but it’s hard to be certain as your heart pounding in your ears drowns out every sound but the thudding of your feet on stone.

You desperately try to picture your map in your head, but this was the area of the catacombs that you were least familiar with. Left… you need to go left.

There’s a whoosh of air, and your torch flickers again, nearly going out, and then the female vampire stands in front of you with a gentle smile.

Oh. They had been the source of the breeze down here.

Placidly, you wonder how long they had been down here for, how long they had been following you for.

You don’t give it too much thought; you’ll be dead in a moment anyway. You’re glad that the dormitories didn’t have any entrances to the catacombs; that would give everyone else a chance, at least.

“Come with me,” Cassandra’s piercing voice demands, extending a clawed hand towards you.

You take an immediate step back; it’s more of a reflex than anything. She gives you an encouraging smile that doesn’t meet her wide, pale eyes.

“I’m not going to hurt you, little one,” she insists, despite being several inches shorter than you are. “Now come with me,” she purrs, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes seem to glow, and you find yourself moving towards her, feeling like you were floating. She was mesmerizing you.

Knowing that her powers of hypnosis are at work does nothing to break you from their spell, and as you find yourself walking into her open arms, Cassandra laughs delightedly, wrapping you in a cruel imitation of a hug.

“Now… sleep.”

Weightless, your world fades to black.

---

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Epilogue

One of the things that disappoints me the most about John Carpenter's Vampires is that there are quite a few cool ideas and concepts that are just... not built on at all, in favour of more screentime for Katrina's abuse or James Woods's unpleasant quips. I really want to build up this world, and that starts with giving at least SOME of the other Master/Mistress vampires a name, starting with Cassandra!

[nalyra-dreaming]

In Merrick, when Louis goes into the sun and gets all burned, is he dead, like, heart-stopped-beating dead? Brain dead? Just in a coma? Or something else? Thanks!

Hey!

That is a good question and unfortunately one … that is impossible to answer conclusively I think.

Both Merrick and David do not hear anything from him or his mind, none of them hear anything else (so no heartbeat either).

I… don’t think he’s braindead because in their setup it would mean his spirit (I mean his soul here, not Amel) had left and then what would have come back would be a revenant (which is what Lestat is afraid of, too).

My blood's too strong now, chérie," said Lestat. He cleared his throat and wiped at the dust on his own eyelids. He ran his hand into his hair and pulled it roughly out of his face. "My blood will make a monster of what's there."

They are terrified he is locked in:

He's too old for one day's fire to end it. And he may be locked inside these charred remains in fear of what's to come. He might, like a dying man, hear us in his fatal trance and be unable to respond." She moaned plaintively as she continued: "He may be crying for us to help him, and we stand here and we argue and we pray."

Given that there is a terrible, agonized groan as soon as Lestat starts to pour his blood over Louis I think the assumption that he is locked in and aware is likely right, or, he is pulled back immediately by the blood.

Later, Lestat asks him

"When the sun rose," he said, "when you saw it, when it burnt you before you were unconscious, what did you see?" Louis stared at Lestat for some few minutes, his face blank, as it always becomes when he is in a state of high emotion, and then his features softened, his brows knitted, and there came the dreaded tears to his eyes.

"Nothing," he said. He bowed his head, but then he looked up helplessly. "Nothing. I saw nothing and I felt that there was nothing. I felt it—empty, colorless, timeless. Nothing. That I had ever lived in any shape seemed unreal." His eyes were shut tight, and he brought up his hand to hide his face from us. He was weeping. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing at all.“

Which is why I think that he - at least - got the kindness of drifting in his consciousness, apart from the pain, at least after losing consciousness and until the revival process started. 😣

So… I‘m not sure what to call it.

It’s the vampiric state right before the infamous scatter the ashes …

Maybe a deep, deep coma would fit best, in human terms. *

(*) in PLORA Louis calls this state "dead" because his heart had stopped:

“Then you were not really dead, Louis,” said Fareed patiently. “Oh, but I was,” said Louis. “I know now that I was. I was dead according to one ancient and highly significant definition of ‘dead.’ ” “I’m not following you,” said Fareed. I saw the first signs of impatience but it wasn’t impolite. “My heart had stopped,” said Louis. “There was no blood pumping in me. All circulation had stopped when my heart stopped. That is how I was dead.”

It had repercussions for him (which later led to other repercussions for the vampiric "tribe"), however, they also say there that they've never seen another example of someone being brought back from that state so I'm inclined to say that his soul was still tethered nonetheless.

[daemon-in-my-head]

I have a confession to make. My love for the tyrant happened in odd ways. Just as me playing BG3 was and continues to be a roller coaster, so is my unapologetic thirst for villains. My first Tav, god bless her, tragically had her save deleted in embarrassment after I accidentally killed the bear in the goblin camp and didn't know what to do (honest to god I had no idea he was Halsin), my 2nd Tav, unfortunately, unfortunately got hit by "hehehe I have mods now" treatment, and my 3rd one will forever be chilling in sorcerers sundries.

I do have to admit though, the first cutscene where you see only the silhouette of the chosen, I was sold on the racoon, and Orin to be fair. And then I saw him in Moonrise and I was like "ma'am, your taste needs a checkup, let's not, you have a perfect pretty vampire at home chill the fuck out." (It did not help that I looked at Ketheric and felt things you should not feel for a grieving, ruthless, horrible man.) Fast forward to the coronation (with my Tav) and I was like eh, sorry buddy gotta kick a vampire's ass (aka, I skipped thru it. I had priorities.)

And then I started my durge run and did the coronation again and I have never in my life been so sold on a man so quickly. He's my poor little meow meow. My big brown doe eyed crybaby. My scrunkly little tyrant. My outlet for a plethora of unholy thoughts.

The moral of the story? Listen to ur gut. It knows when you want the fucked up villains. (Also I have never touched a Tav Char ever again, going Durge or home over here.)

[notnosimp]

I enjoy that fucked up looking fish (Siren Charborg) quite a lot.

I want facts about the fucked up looking fish if you are willing to share

TY SM!!

Ask and I shall share!! (sorry to other asks, I'll try to get to y'all soon- with art, hopefully.)

Siren!Char is one of many characters in my Monster AU- where there exists Werewolves, Vampires, Sirens + Mermaids, many different versions of the Undead, and more! (Which you'll learn of soon :))

Charborg, (the fish-based scrunkly that he is) is of course, a Siren; basically being the carnivorous, singing version of a Mermaid.

This means that he has much sharper teeth (as you saw), claws instead of rounder, shorter nails (which i forgot to draw), and also a murkier color palette/scales. His tail also sports much tougher scales, built for combat (though not straight up immune from all hits) and a lot less shiny than a Mermaid.

(He's based off of a Sockeye Salmon, btw- got that from his PFP)

All fish-based, human-like monsters (Mermaids and all the species which come from them) have the ability to retract their tails- replacing them in an uncomfortable few seconds with legs. They still have most of their features in the transformation- keeping their coloration through 'tattoos', keeping their sharp appendages (teeth, claws, etc), strange 'ears', and yellow-ish to orange-ish eyes. (I'm using the Vampire bat transformation rules here, so they do keep their pants, somehow. Don't ask me about that bit, I'm just trying to keep everything PG-13 man 😭)

While Mermaids can sing quite beautifully, Sirens have the unique ability to mind control the people who are exposed to it. However if the vocal cords, mouth, or general throat area of the Siren is damaged- or if the Siren simply hasn't practiced this power- then they cannot mind control. Some Sirens are simply born without this power as well- only singing a bit nicer-sounding than average. Unfortunately, Char is one of these people; he cannot mind control, and was kicked out of his original Pod for this reason. Fleeing, he eventually found a pirate crew made up of Mermaids and Sirens alike (a strange sight by itself- there's lots of prejudice from both sides), which accepted him. He made his home there, and started a life of stealing, sword-fighting, and generally exciting, happy moments (until they got attacked, but we'll get to that).

While he was originally a pirate and had more pirate-fitting clothes, I'm suiting him with a more grunge-y, punk style (with some pirate clothes sprinkled in) later in the lore that may have not fully shown itself in the photo that I've posted, but i swear he will look stylish and funky in my art eventually, once I have his design down!!!

(Feel free to submit ideas for the designs or clothes that they could wear btw- I need ideas!!)

Lore wise, I had a few different ideas for him, but they all circled back to him being a weird lil pirate so I settled on this:

Originally, he was living with a crew made up of other Sirens and Mermaids (as I said before), parading around stealing anything shiny and fighting other pirate gangs in their (probably stolen) ship. That is, until, they ended up fighting and stealing from the wrong crew and the seemingly small human group came back a few days later with a LOT more people and revenge-fought them, searching for a very important treasure which they stole. The battle ends with Chars Pod being killed off and (if they were deemed 'pretty enough') trophied. Char ends up surviving by hiding with the ships luggage, but eventually he has to bail ship and gains a large amount of injuries in the process. He finds land, but I am unfortunately still workshopping everything beyond that. (I'm focusing on the whole setting rather than the character's lore atm.)

Hope it all sounds interesting so far!

More things will happen with the others and there will obviously be other B-Plots to do with the characters unrelated to Char, but for now I'm just focusing on their world, all the different species, and all their scarred up (speaking of- Char has scars, I swear, I just didn't draw them in that initial pic), weirdo designs :)

I'm making art of their world plus designs for their bases/homes and just general landmarks, so hopefully I can get that out soon!

Thank you again for asking!!

[boywifesammy]

we don’t talk about it (deanjohn nsfw)

The first time you kiss your father, he licks his own cum off your face. The second and last time you kiss your father, your lips push to his and he stays still.

Then, you wrap him up in cloth and set him alight.

vaguely based on this post i made a few months ago.

my first submission for the @dadfuckerfest!! you can find an ao3 version linked above :)

warnings: 16yr old Dean/John, themes of child abuse, incest galore

You’re nine years old, and you have failed. The backseat of the impala is your penance. Your hands are covered in vampire blood. You wipe them off using the rag your father gave you, but the remnants stay embedded in the grooves of your palms.

You keep your hands a safe distance from your mouth. The snarling monster that tried feeding you its blood still has you looking over your shoulder, keyed up and anxious. You remember the rage in your father’s eyes as he swung his machete through that man’s neck and the fury in his sprint as he dragged you through the forest back to the impala.

You are nine years old and you are a failure. Your father is half your world, the other half hidden faraway in a distant motel room, the distance painful yet still not far enough for your comfort.

The whispers of tainted blood on your hands burn. You remember the sanguine rush dripping into the floorboards of that barn and around your father’s boots, the sweet smell of charred flesh as you set it aflame. The terror in your father’s voice as he cut you down from your shackles. The fear as he desperately asked if you had swallowed.

You remember the life in your father’s eyes as he killed that monster, and your fingers itch. They itch, and itch, and itch. You are a failure, but you can be forgiven.

After helping you down, your father hands you his machete. You are scared, but you don’t feel a hint of fear when you bring the blade down on the remnants of that man’s spinal cord.

It is the winter of ‘95 and you are freezing alive. The heater is broken and you can’t warm up because your brother stole all the blankets. Still, you stay in bed, because the faint heat from another body is the only source of warmth for a mile out.

The cabin you’re staying in has two beds, a wood stove and four walls. You watch the blizzard-winds blow outside. Something moves through the flurry of snow. It’s just your imagination, too vivid and violent for a child your age, but your cold fingers still squeeze tighter around the pistol under your pillow.

It is three AM and your father is drinking. The only warmth a mile out is slipping down his throat like liquid gold, because it is, because you’ve been stuck in this cabin for a week and he’s down to his last bottle of whiskey.

You are in a blizzard in the winter of ‘95 and it is your mother’s birthday. The only warmth a mile out is your baby brother and your father’s hot blood, pumping through your own veins. The last of your humanity. In a world ruled by blood, by the slick iron dripping from vampiric wrists and spilled into ritual bowls, the blood you share is all you are.

Your father looks up. The hollows under his eyes hang impossibly low in the shadows. His wedding ring gleams on his finger, clinks against the bottle. He looks into your eyes and you can barely see the white.

Dean, he says, and you go. You go because you want to. You go because he loves you. Your shivering body slips under your father’s blankets and he hisses when you place your frigid fingers on his bare thighs. His ringed hand fists into the bedsheets.

You don’t talk about it. Your father’s warmth trapped in the blanket cocoon wraps around your entire body in a soothing embrace. You slip open the button on his jeans and slip his erection out through the zipper. The tip bumps against your lips. You place a soft kiss on the slit.

You are sixteen and it is your mother’s birthday and the only warmth a mile out is the slick, hot heat of your father’s cock sliding over your tongue.

The blizzard continues to rage. It howls faintly in the distance, barely masking your father’s laboured breath. There is a militaristic control in every inhale and exhale. He can’t bear to look at you, to touch you, to so much as acknowledge your presence with a moan. The guilt tears you up inside.

You do this because you want to. Your brother wouldn’t understand. You lazily tug at your father’s cock and tease his foreskin back from the tip, feeling it pulse against your palm in arousal. A drop of pearly liquid smears across your lips, painting them lip-gloss shiny, and your tongue slips out to taste.

Your father tastes slightly bitter.

When he spills out onto your tongue, it’s with a hitched breath and a hand fisting tight into the blankets. Your mouth gets messy with it. Dripping down your chin, over your teeth, eyes red-gloss-teary from the painful press of your erection against the zipper of your jeans.

You are sixteen and the first kiss you share with your father is more of a silent apology. His tongue rasps over your cheeks and chin to clean up the mess he made of your face. Lips never touch lips. Yours stay pursued even as his tongue slides over your mouth.

Afterwards, in the accusing silence of night, you suck your lips clean. You nibble them raw and rub yourself off against his bedsheets. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t look at you and he doesn’t stop you when you slink back to your bed.

The first time you kiss your father, he licks his own cum off your face. The second and last time you kiss your father, your lips push to his and he stays still.

Then, you wrap him up in cloth and set him alight.

You don’t talk about it. Sam doesn’t either. You know that he knows, in that unsure, distant way, the same way that you know that your father did what he did out of trust, not guilt. You think that he has always known. Still, you don’t talk about it.

Love with your brother feels sure and certain. He touches like he owns you, his lips dragging over three-day old stubble, tree trunk arms wrapped around your body. He touches you like he owns you and you both know he does.

Sam needs you. Love with your brother is hedonistic and beautiful, because he worships you like you are his entire world. It is not entirely unfamiliar. After all, you taught him everything that he knows. He loves just like you: desperate, aching, endless and destructive.

You are doomed to repeat history.

But it doesn't matter, because Sam is your brother, your blood, and he is everything you have left. He is half your world. The other is laying on charred ground and the remnants of a funeral pyre long extinguished.

You are half empty, and your brother can tell.

It has been mere weeks since your father sold his soul for yours. Your brother is telling you that there is a hole in your chest, and that he gets it, even though he doesn’t. Even though he knows that he doesn’t.

There cannot be a hole in you if you are all void. Half your world is gone and you barely feel it, because you don’t have anything left to feel with. The world is tilted on its axis and everything you fought for is dead. Gone.

When you punch Sam, he lets you. You hit him. And hit him. And hit him. He just takes it, and when you stop, he leans forward and tugs you in by the collar.

The first time you kiss your brother, he tastes like blood. His blood. Your blood. Sam pulls you into your motel room and tangles with you on your bed. There is nothing left to hide anymore. You won’t have to sneak back into your bed this time, because he knows, and something about that feels horribly real.

Sam knows. Maybe he’s always known. Sam knows, and his blood is slicking up your teeth. His hands are sneaking up the back of your shirt. He tastes like grief, and fear. The guilt tears you up inside.

The first time your brother fucks you, it’s slow and passionate. He lays you out on your back and frots against you until you’re both dripping with it, stomach heaving from the sensation of slick skin on skin. Then his finger slides down between your cheeks and starts to rub at your hole. He gives you is a wordless look.

You don’t talk about it, but he knows. This is not your first time. Sam doesn’t wait for an answer before sliding two lube slick fingers into your tight hole. It stings. It burns. You haven’t done this in– months. Not since your father left. You haven’t done this without him, there would be no point, and when he came back to find you with Sam, the thrill of it all became a threat instead of a turn-on.

You’d both become used to the nonchalance of it all. The unspoken condolences you exchanged after the act, because this had become part of who you were. Bringing Sammy into it; grown yet still petulant and hard-headed as he was five years ago, was far too real for either of you to stomach.

Now, you think that it may have been useless. Because Sammy knows. He’s known all along. You know that for sure.

There is a hole inside of you, and you let your brother fill it up, because he is your son, your child, the boy that you raised from the ground up. He is all you have. He is your blood, bone, and kin.

You are doomed to repeat history.

The first time your brother fucks you, he tucks his face into your throat to stifle his groan as he pushes in. He is so big inside of you. He is tearing you open. The first time your brother fucks you he splits you open on his dick and you nearly thank him. His massive hands engulf yours on the sheets. He puts your foreheads together to gasp the same air.

You breathe in. Out. In, out. Sam slams into you. His teeth nip at your neck and he makes no attempt to hide his moans or soft gasps of praise. He kisses you like he is starving. He fucks you like you are his wife. He kisses you until you stop breathing, then keeps kissing your slack lips as he pounds you into a mind-blowing orgasm.

You can’t force a single noise past your lips. He cums with a gasp of your name, not bothering to hold back his pleasure, not used to the secrecy of it all. After, he holds you close. It leaves you feeling tight and trapped in your own bed. This is dangerous, this intimacy. To make love instead of fucking.

The first time your brother fucks you, he makes love to you. It’s the most satiated you’ve felt in years. Still, you don’t sleep a wink that night. You keep your grip on the pistol under your pillow until the sun rises, and by the time Sam wakes up, you’re already out of the motel parking lot.

The second time your brother fucks you, you are bleeding. Blood from a hunt always keys you up. Maybe it’s because of what you and your father did when you were a child, or maybe you were born like this. It doesn’t matter. Either way, when Sam pushes you up against the door, you go.

He’s drunk. You’re drunk. It’s a bad idea, and you both know it, which is why you go through with it. Bad hunts always leave you wanting more. Sam digs his nails into your wrists. You hold back your hiss.

His cheeks are rough under your hands with three-day stubble. You don’t do this, but when you do, you don’t talk about it. Sam’s eyes are a pool of liquid tar emotion. Lust, maybe. Fury, more likely.

This is a terrible idea. You will both regret it in the morning. The thought only makes it more appealing.

Sam flips you and slams your chest against the door. Your dick jerks violently in your jeans. Hot, hungry breaths glance over the back of your neck. The rough prickle of stubble follows, rubbing your skin pink-raw. Sam doesn’t kiss your skin. He presses his face into the crook of your neck and rests his teeth on your pulse, gasping for air.

He is smelling you, scenting you. Your eyes roll back into your skull. This is less love than it is ownership. The horrific, perverse part of you that you have suppressed ever since your father’s death flares white hot. Sam pulls you back against his hips and the line between love and ownership starts to blur.

The second time your brother fucks you, he pushes you face down against the bed and pounds you so hard that his balls slap against your ass. His weight is heavy on your shoulders, his massive cock stretching you thin. He is going to rip you apart. You love every second of it.

You don’t say a word, and neither does he. Sam dips down and tucks his face into the back of your neck. Your father’s three-day old stubble rubs against your peach-pink skin. His deep, laboured breaths make the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge.

Your father says nothing, but his cock hits deep into places you never knew even existed. The bedsheets smell like cheap bourbon and gun oil. There is grave dirt under your nails. You grip the off-white motel bedsheets and turn them filthy, just like you.

The stuttered breathing against your neck feels painful. Painful for you and painful for him, to hold back so much in a body too broken and scarred for it. Your father says nothing but you know that he is not here with you.

You don’t blame him, you’d also do anything to stop the guilt. Anything to forget that the hot, wet heat squeezing his dick is his son, his blood and bone, the boy he carved to be a twisted, incomplete caricature of himself.

Your brother gasps silent next to your ear. Everything blurs into heat. Your father starts grinding his hips against your ass in short, desperate bucks. He is getting close, you can tell. Your cock is red and dripping like a faucet against the sheets, and your limp hands scramble at the bedsheets. You are on cloud fucking nine.

There is a hole inside of you, but for the first time in a long time, you feel whole. Worshipped. Loved. Swathed in the warmth of your father’s beer-breath and the heady scent of his lust permeated into your flesh. You will never be able to wash it out. It is a small comfort. You hope it stays with you forever.

Your body is a flash of fire, too hot and too greedy, temporary, hurtling towards a painful end. You are swathed in the fury of your brother, so much like the man who raised you yet still the man you raised yourself, the boy that you weaned on your own love.

Sam doesn’t make a sound, and it’s so much like him that the lines blur. He presses his teeth against your flesh. His jaw latches around the back of your neck, incisors push in, and he bites. Pain blossoms up bright and beautiful. Your face buries into the pillow and you lose it.

Dad. One word pressed into the mattress, shaky and unsteady as you cum. The teeth around your skin sink in deeper. Sam is shaking with anger and he pushes your shoulders further down into the bed, choking you.

There is no air here. There is no guilt. Just the sharp, violent pleasure of your brother, your father, your whole world buried inside of you. Drool spills onto the pillow. You are smiling, twisted and shaky, entire body drawn tight and trembling as you spill out onto the bedsheets.

Sam is angry. Your brother’s fingers dig into the tendons of your shoulders like he is trying to worm under your bones. Mine, mine, mine, he screams, wordless, and you agree. Yours, yours, yours. Whose, you don’t know. But you have your whole world with you, and it doesn’t hurt one bit when Sam holds you down against the mattress and spills into your sore ass. You wish it hurt. That would make all of this so much easier.

The first time your brother fucks you, he holds you tight to his chest and refuses to let go. The second time, he can barely even look at you.

You are doomed to repeat history. Sam pops the top off a beer and hands it to you. The condensation is prickilingly fresh against your sweaty, warm hands.

His eyes dart to your neck. Your shoulders. Skin decorated with red welts and scratches, punctures, the faint smear of blood. Your brother looks away.

We have to talk about it, he says. Bullets of summer rain pelt against the windows. You chuckle under your breath.

You take a sip of your drink. He does too. The rain outside continues, pattering silently, and you drink in silence.