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writteninlunarlight-years · 2 months ago

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Sedated

Adam x Reader

TW: Pervy Adam, Guardian Angels, Reader unknowingly being watched, Self-touch, masturbation, Desires, obsession, clumsy ass reader

How we ended up here was beyond either of our wildest dreams. Adam had fallen from grace, desperate to prove his worth and reclaim his place in heaven. The added bonus of watching over you—a strikingly mundane mortal—was just a silver lining to his celestial punishment. For you, however, life felt like an endless loop of monotony, each day blending into the next in a haze of dull routines.

In the mortal realm, chaos reigned, and you secretly blamed Lucifer for the mess. But today wasn’t about the cosmic battles of good and evil; it was about dragging yourself through another tedious nine-to-five, chained to the soul-sucking machinery of corporate America. After work, you’d immerse yourself in true crime documentaries, the only thrill in your otherwise drab existence, before collapsing into bed to muster the energy for another day.

Adam’s fall from grace had been ironic—a small, devilish woman had orchestrated his demise. Yet, the prospect of redemption as your guardian angel offered him a flicker of hope. He had vowed to keep you safe, ensuring that you remained blissfully unaware of the unseen chaos swirling around you.

Yet you were no spark of entertainment; your life was a tedious boring cycle. You worked, ate, and binge-watched TV shows like every other soul on the planet. But beneath the surface, you harbored a darker side, a flicker of rebellion that emerged during your worst days. Perhaps that was why Adam had been assigned to you—there was little danger in your life, just a series of mundane tasks punctuated by occasional enjoyable nights.

On this particular day, fate had conspired against you. You had slept through your work alarm, and slept blissfully unaware of the fire alarm also blaring in your apartment complex. Adam, in a state of panic, had done everything possible to intervene without alerting anyone else. With a gentle but firm push, he nudged you out of bed, waking you in a daze.

Draped in a sheer silk nightgown and a fluffy robe, you rushed downstairs, only to find the fire marshal casually informing you that it was just a tripped wire. As you and Adam exchanged simultaneous facepalms, he couldn’t help but marvel at your ability to sleep through the chaos—and his own lack of foresight in checking the building.

Once back in your apartment, the reality of your tardiness dawned on you. Groaning, you scrambled to get dressed. In Adam’s misguided attempt to help, he had placed your shoes near the door, leading you to trip and smack your head against the wall. With a growing bruise on your forehead and a now-lost security deposit, you bolted out the door.

The day continued its downward spiral. Your coffee was scalding hot, burning your tongue. A passing truck sent a wave of mud splattering across your clothes. The elevator in your office building was out of order, forcing you to climb nineteen flights of stairs in heels, your patience wearing thinner with each step.

Meanwhile, Adam was feeling the strain, too. He had never seen you in such a chaotic state, and while he had been tasked with keeping you safe, his interventions seemed to lead you into misfortune. When Jacob, your overly friendly coworker, got too close, you found yourself tumbling into Sarah’s lap, laughter erupting around you, the workplace gossip already brewing.

The copy machine malfunctioned, resulting in an ink explosion that painted you from head to toe. And when you attempted to sneak into the men’s bathroom—desperate for some privacy due to the womens bathroom being out of order—you ended up trapped as every male coworker seemed to have an urgent need.

By the time you returned home, you needed a serious reset. A long shower and some quality "me time" were in order. As you prepared a quick meal, doom-scrolling through your phone, you felt the weight of the day begin to lift. After a quick tidy-up, you retreated to your room, pulling out your feel-good essentials.

Adam, watching from his hidden vantage point, felt a thrill of anticipation. He knew what was coming. As you slipped into the shower, an ethereal glow enveloped you, and he settled into the cozy corner of your room, entranced by the thought of what was soon to come.

You emerged from the bathroom, a vision of perfection, your hair cascading around your shoulders. Adam’s breath hitched as you moved with an alluring grace, pulling out your toys with an enticing casualness that sent his heart racing.

The moment you climbed into bed, he felt a primal urge wash over him. As you began to explore your own body, he mirrored your movements, his hand working in tandem with yours against his own body. Each sigh and moan that escaped your lips tugged at his very soul, igniting a deep yearning within him.

Taking his weeping cock in hand he sighed as he watched you lean back and run your hand across your body. He began soft slow strokes keeping in time with your touches and caresses.

As your hand dipped over your chest and down your stomach, feeling yourself, his breath hitched. He almost whined at the thought of burying his head in your heat. How sweet you must taste with how much of you was soaking your precious folds.

One hand of yours spread your folds open, displaying your pretty pink hole, while the other rubbed your pert nipples. He was in awe at how every time you did this, it was like he was watching you the first time. Like he was a child learning what sex really was. How could one person look so damn good doing something so sinful?

He sped up his pace on his cock as he watched your pretty fingers dive in. Oh, how he knew his length could reach places far deeper than those pretty little fingers. You struggled to attempt to touch where you needed relief, where he knew in a few languid strokes he could have you seeing stars.

As you moaned and panted, Adam could only imagine if it was him making those sounds come from you. If you were begging for him and whining out his name so softly. Gripping on his thick arms, bouncing with his pace, eyes crossed and overwhelmed.

He watched as minutes passed by, your fingers abused your tight hole and sensitive bud. He was eager to watch the next part unfold. As you turned on your toy, he watched your hole clench around nothing. A deep groan left him as he imagined that tight clench around his large length.

As you slowly rubbed the toy along yourself, making it nice and wet, he licked his lips, his red tip pulsing with the need for more than his hand. He wished for you to come over and blow him till your throat was sore or even just let him abuse your cunt. He desired nothing more than to not be a figment in your life but a passionate lover as he made you realize who you really belonged to.

However, as the toy slid in and you let out the softest more whorish moan, he was a goner. He was pounding his cock, whispering your name under his breath, hoping that maybe this would connect you two better. He was pussy whipped, and he hadn't even had the chance to physically take you yet.

If you could fuck yourself so good like this, you were definitely worth the first man's dick. He watched as the toy was slowly sucked into your greedy hole, and he was jerking into his hand. He wanted to keep up with your pace and learn exactly how you liked it; however, the languid bounce of your tits and heightened moans only made him lose control as he stroked his length harder.

You looked and sounded so beautiful, so amazingly hot and gorgeous. He wanted to be the one making you beg like this, not some silicone toy. However, as you built yourself up to climax, he also began to see white as he spilled over his large hand. A low groan of your name was barely heard by you.

Adam's thick white cum was covering his hand and robes as he looked at your pretty legs shake from your orgasm. He was whipped, to say the least, at this point. He stood resituating himself, what he would give for you to use that mouth to clean him up slowly.

At first, this may have started with him wanting to become an angel again, but now his goal is to get you to heaven with him so he can really show you a good time and let his name fall from your pretty lips. All he knew now, as time passed, was that he wouldn't be Sedated till he finally had you in his arms.

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francis-writes · 8 months ago

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I’m extremely shy at making requests but I need more feyd x male reader in my life and I’m obsessed with lingerie and pierced nipples being involved so just take that as you will and I will love whatever you write. ❤️

A/N: hi, i hope it's good enough<3 i couldn't wait to write this request, especially since i got out of my depressive episode and I started another attempt to stay sober.

Includes: lingerie, nipple piercings, nipple clamps, ass fingering, handjob, amab anatomy, licking cum

(No proof-read so sorry for potential mistakes and autocorrect)

You didn't remember the last time you were dressed up like that in the bedroom - not that you or Feyd didn't enjoy revealing lingerie, it was rather the opposite... but with all the things going on on Arrakis and the greater than usually turmoil between Major Houses, you had much less time for properly pleasing each other or indulging in your passions. You could only enjoy quick fucking in breaks from his political duties (rest of the court didn't appreciate him leaving once in awhile, but they wouldn’t rather risk his threats) or tired sex when you could finally rest in your chamber at evening.

But now situation calmed down a bit. You knew that life would never be peaceful while living with heir to one of the most powerful - and perhaps the most hated - Houses. But you made your choice. And you still could count on days like this, when you could rest and have you only to each other.

You put a long black robe on yourself and entered the bedroom. Feyd already waited for you, laying stretched out on the bed, with his hand under his head. When he saw you, he sat up, staring at you with a smile.

"Are you going to stay in that robe for the whole night?" He asked teasingly.

You didn't reply and simply took off the robe, revealing what you wore underneath. Feyd looked at you with a mix of desire and surprise because you decided not to tell him about the outfit you planned.

You wore black pleaser shoes (at first you didn't feel that sure about trying such a high heel, but seeing effect in the mirror gave you more confidence), dark stockings pinned to lacy pants, and the last element was corset, ending right under your chest. You knew that sooner or later this corset will end up thrown on the floor, but you didn't want to cover your nipple piercings even for a moment. It was seemingly a simple detail, but you knew that it drew Feyd wild. Now he was eyeing you up with a clear excitement.

"Do we have any occasion today? Or did you just decide to provide me special entertainment?"

You walked to the bed, enjoying the sound of the heels clicking on the floor. From his smile, you could see that Feyd already enjoyed this evening without even touching you.

"Lets say that I just missed taking my time with you"

You sat on the bed and started caressing his leg, focusing especially on his inner thigh. You could notice that his breathing got heavier but he still controlled himself and kept observing you carefully as if he planned his next moves. Finally he reached out and grabbed your waist, just to pull you on his lap. You kneeled on the bed, with his legs between yours. His hands started wandering across your body - from your legs, ass, over your sides and to your shoulders.

"I almost feel bad about ruining this outfit"

You kissed his neck and sucked his skin, not caring if he's gonna have to cover the marks letter. When he gasped, you leaned back and smiled to him, just to add:

"With an emphasis on >almost<"

Feyd just smirked and pushed you, so you landed on your back. He crawled on top of you and pinned you to the bed with one hand, just to lean over and start kissing your nipples, suck on them and playing with piercings, using his tongue. At the same time, his other hand grabbed your thigh and tried to lift it. Almost absent-mindedly you followed his action and put that legs on his back. Without interrupting playing with your nipples, Feyd smiled to himself, enjoying your submission to his actions. He unfastened the stocking from your pants, revealing bare skin of your leg. Now his hand was caressing your thigh and squeezing the soft flesh. You gasped under the next sensations but still you waited for more; this night you wanted just to please him and to submit yourself to him completely. You would like to touch him as well and kiss his body but he was still pinning you to the bed. His grip wasn't too tight but getting up would stop his caresses and you didn't have strength of will required for this decision.

Feyd's hand slowly wandered lower, now grabbing your ass and squeezing it. You still kept your eyes half-lidded as you were enjoying the caresses, but then his hand slided under the material of the panties, he pressed his finger to your butthole and began massaging it. You moaned quietly and tried to put your legs in position that would give him better and easier access.

Feyd noticed your movement with amusement. He liked how obedient and easy to control you became in bed. Of course, there were times when he let you took charge (and he enjoyed it more than he expected before), but usually when you got aroused, all your self-restraints disappeared and he could use your body however he wanted.

He spat on his finger and continued massaging your butt, pressing a bit harder than before. You shivered slightly and let out another gasp. He loved pain and tortures (to be honest, he liked equally to give and receive them) but he liked as well more delicate moments, when you were just caressing and gently exploring each other’s bodies; he also always made sure you got your satisfaction, especially that seeing you writhe in pleasure just from his touches, pumped his ego (and other parts of his body).

He interrupted his actions to move back a bit and pull off your pants so they wouldn’t get in the way later.

You opened your eyes and looked at him. Feyd just smirked, noticing your interest.

"Don't worry, pet, I am not finished with you yet" he said with his low, raspy voice.

He reached to the drawer of your bedside cabinet (that actually served as a collection of the "everyday necessities", meaning some of the basic toys and devices that you liked to have close at hand) and took out nipple clamps connected with a chain. Feyd kneeled between your legs, put the clamps on your nipples and yanked the chain. You let out a short moan. You got used to pain a bit, thanks to your experiments with Feyd, but your nipples remained very sensitive and the clamps were tight.

He spat on his finger and this time he slided it inside. Not very deep at first, he started with small movements to make you relax and get used to the feeling. Before going further, he took your dick in his other hand and started jerking you off, this time going fast and hard without hesitation. You slightly arched your back and moaned louder than before, not expecting that sudden shift in stimulation. Especially that as you got more aroused, Feyd also started to finger your ass deeper and faster. Your legs twitched but you clenched your hands on the sheets, trying to stay in place. Despite your desire to last as long as possible, you could feel being close to the edge, so you gathered your strength to ask:

"Feyd... can I cum?"

He smiled and replied without interrupting his moves:

"Go on, tonight I won't stop your satisfaction"

Not long later, you tilted your heard back and gasped, as your whole body relaxed after final wave of pleasure. Your cum ran down your dick, covering Feyd's hand. He brought it to your mouth.

"Lick it off"

You obediently licked his hand and sucked on his fingers, making sure to left it completely clean. When you finished, you looked at him with a slight embarassment.

"I'm sorry that I didn't last longer-"

Before you said anything more, he grabbed your chin and kissed you. Then he looked at you with a smirk.

"Who said that we're finished? I still have to get my pleasure"

#feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x male reader #feyd rautha #dune imagine

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puuuders · 2 months ago

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In Pursuit of Something Better ~ Part 3

Ghost fanfiction

Previous | Next

Yeah these parts probably won't be super long lol. Just how it seems to be working out.

The ghouls receive their new uniforms. Gets heated.

Read on AO3

1.4k words

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"You did not seem as pissed yesterday as you do now."

Omega scowled at Pebble, the shorter earth ghoul. He was conveniently stood beside Delta. Being protected by a bigger ghoul seemed to be the only time Pebble wanted to pipe up with something snarky to get under another ghoul's skin. He learned that from Delta, the water ghoul that Omega forced himself to withstand for the betterment of the pack. Omega's glare shifted to Delta, before he ultimately decided to ignore them altogether. He turned his attention back to examining their surroundings. The previous red fluorescent lights of this conference room had been replaced with purple, having to be overnight since no one had noticed anyone coming in and out. The decor was also different; high quality cashmere table clothes replaced the knitted covers that Secondo enjoyed, reason being unclear whether it was because it was cheap or he was truly into knitting.

The room was less crowded, minimalistic. There were two small, white pillows on either corner of the black couch that sat against the wall near the door, contrary to the dozen that Secondo had there. A fuzzy black carpet beneath their feet. A few lamps lining the walls. Alpha was especially relieved to see these changes. He could not stand the texture of velvet and wool that their previous Papa seemed to obsess over.

Alpha's tail instinctively intertwined with the quintessence ghoul stood next to him as the door on the other side of the room opened. They silenced their pointless bickering, straighting their backs and clasping their hands together behind their backs in unison. Absolutely conditioned.

However, the man who had promised to return was not necessarily a frightening figure in the moment. He was backwards, holding the door open with his foot, his compact figure covered from the waist up by the new uniforms that the ghouls eagerly awaited. He stepped backwards into the room, a barely audible grunt, and then he caught his robe on the heel of his shoe that he wore to appear at least a little taller. Terzo gasped and stumbled backwards, huffing in frustration as he caught himself and kicked his lengthy robe out from under his feet. Aero, the air ghoul, tilted his head curiously, and Delta grinned under his mask.

Terzo slapped the uniforms down on the table, two of the new metal masks clanking against the wood and dropping to the ground.

"Oh, fuck me." Terzo mumbled under his breath before looking up at the lined up ghouls, sighing and forcing a smile. "I do hope you like these. Made of gabadine, very strong. Very good to the eye."

Terzo lifted a mask, gently holding it in one hand, examining it like a Shakespearean, two fingers pressed to his painted chin.

"Resplendent, posh. You will no longer resemble a Hugo character. You will resemble - no, be - a ghoul of importance and class." Terzo looked towards the ghouls, smiling. For some reason he expected to see a reaction of excitement, but their expressions were hidden, their body language stoic. His smile faded, and he set the mask back on the table with an echoing ring. He pressed his palms together, holding his own hands. He stepped around the table, walking towards the ghouls that towered over him, their bright burning eyes intimidating him. He smiled curiously at each of them.

"Another ugly thing that will change for you is your room. I went in there today."

Alpha clenched his teeth, his tail squeezing Omega's at the confession. There was suddenly a thick fog of tension in the room.

"What is that you sleep on? Your own clothing? There are no beds. That is filthy, ghouls. You must get your own rooms."

With that, Terzo reached up into his robe. Alpha's head recoiled slightly at the sight of Terzos robe riding up, revealing his bare calves, the only evidence of any clothing beneath his robe being the fact that he pulled out 5 keys. Unless he was storing them in his prison pocket, he had to have been wearing shorts.

Terzo placed a key in each one of the ghouls massive hands, humming as he studied the appearance of their hands. Omega's were large and purple. Alpha's were almost glowing maroon and orange. Delta's blew, webs between his fingers. Pebble's were the smallest, beautiful vitiligo spreading across his gray and brown hands. Aero's were albino.

"You ghouls should know where the Siblings rooms are, yes? You do work for them. You are Siblings under my thumb. So you will be accommodated as such, so long as you perform your usual duties. That is fair, do you think?"

Terzo stopped in front of them, scanning them for any evidence of personality. His eyes stopped on Omega.

"Why are you so quiet now, witty one?"

Omega felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. His vocal cords vanished, his face heating up with embarrassment at being put on the spot. Alpha looked at him. Omega looked back at him. Silence.

Terzo sighed. "Do you do the thing again? Speak out loud."

"Thank you, Papa." Omega quickly spat out, simply wanting the attention off of him. Terzo hummed.

"You call me Terzo. We are friends, are we not?"

"I barely know you."

"Don't you want to know me?"

"Thank you, Terzo."

"Such a good boy you are."

Alpha whipped his head towards Terzo, disgust written on his face under his mask. Terzo shifted his attention to him.

"What about you, Alpha ghoul? Your friend says that you-"

"Papa!" Omega snapped, a guttural hiss that intensified the fog of tension. "Do not."

"Do not what?" Terzo grinned. He knew exactly what.

"Do not what?" Alpha repeated. His voice was gruff, but an obvious tone of emotion that Omega always failed to produce.

"Nothing." Omega glared at Alpha, speaking to him with his mind. Alpha ignored his internal pleas for silence.

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything."

"Why do you lie, Omega?" Terzo chimed. Omega felt a bubbling in his chest, his face burning with anger. Stay calm.

"You are lying." Alpha growled. Terzo studied their interaction intently. The crumbling of their facade.

"We will talk about this later." Omega barred his teeth.

"You are saying bad things about me."

"And you, small one!" Terzo had walked towards Pebble. Though he was the shortest ghoul, he still towered over Terzo. "Do you posess this rage that these two ghouls do?"

Delta's tail snaked around in front of Pebble. Terzo watched, following the blue up to Delta.

"You are protective! You are strong," Terzo was speaking to no one ghoul in particular anymore, "you have a passion that you hide. Why do you hide? Why do you want to be weak?"

Terzo was pacing back and forth, his voice raising, pumping his fist by his side. "Don't you want to be better than this? You want to be more than tools. You do the work, you play the instruments, you control the minds. Without you this ministry would be nothing! There are more of you, less of them!"

"Less of you," Delta hissed. "You want to start shit , then-"

"Shut the fuck up!" Omega roared. He stomped forward, shoving Alpha as he barged towards Delta. Delta growled, meeting Omega's force as Omega slammed his hands into his shoulders, shoving him into the wall and snapping his teeth at him. Alpha grabbed Omega, desperately trying to pull him back.

"Less of me!" Terzo shouted. Fueling the flame. "More of you, less of me! Take it out on me! Not each other! Ghouls!"

Omega was blinded by rage.

"Omega!"

He didn't realize he was stabbing his claws into Delta's larynx.

"OMEGA!"

Suddenly, he was tired. His muscles gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. His mask bounced off of his face. His vision blurred, his white pupils staring up at Terzo who held a familiar book in his hand, the one he had seen him studying yesterday in his office. He blinked, and his pack was surrounding Terzo, not attacking. Tails swishing low to the ground, masks thrown to the floor. He blinked again. Muffled, exhilarated chanting, something in Latin. Terzo knelt to the ground in front of him. Then, he fell asleep.

#ghost #the band ghost #ghost fanfiction #ghost fanfic #ghost bc #terzo #papa emeritus iii #omega ghoul #delta ghoul #alpha ghoul #pebble ghoul #nameless ghouls #aero ghoul

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valentine-cafe · 1 month ago

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˖⁺. ﹙ the bloodthirsty phantom. ﹚: zhào hàoyŭ 9948v .𖹭 ݁

. . . he ate your heart !! 🍒 : “ would you sacrifice yourself to the blood puddles I leave across the city, if it meant I could be your last sight? ”

꒰ verse ꒱ 9948v

꒰ species ꒱ vengeful phantom. rhytaari

꒰ ethnicity ꒱ chinese

꒰ age ꒱ 25

꒰ gender ꒱ male

꒰ mbti ꒱ enfp

꒰ alias ꒱ the phantom, the third, the vengeful, voice beyond the grave, poltergeist

꒰ story ꒱

he clink of wind chimes in the dead of the night.

numerous ghostly whispers and malevolent giggles surrounding a looming darkness. colourless peering eyes stare at the array of scattered bodies. painting the ground like the edges of his white robes.

such is what haunts the city of elritea. the world of 9948v. a phantom is what they call him. sadistic and seeking blood wherever he roams. summoning spirits from far beyond the grave and feeding on their agony.

what’s his mission -

justice?

revenge?

perhaps it’s just malicious glee and a lust for carnage. the trail of needless massacres certainly point to it.

and all with a grin glued to his face. a rictus smile to match the horrors of pale, ghostly hands.

꒰ appearance ꒱

very long black hair that extends down to his feet and is often tied up in elaborate styles. such as buns or with jewellery

white eyes, with the faintest tint of red from bloody tears. sometimes they streak down his face. no pupils or sclera

pale, almost moon glowing skin, with deep red veins up his arms and jaw

pure white robes with softer and dustier reds covering it. often wears elaborate and elegant hanfus. has little wind chimes that hang from his robes — a warning sign of his appearance

long, black talon like nails shaped in coffin style

long black heels, with thorns on them

stands at the height of 6’9” with a slender figure

does not wear much jewellery, aside from a few dioxazine purple necklaces, and some ruby and silver chains

standard lobe piercings with two red orchids dangling from them, while the two upper lobe are silver studs with rubies

elongated tongue with rows of very sharp teeth, as white as the moon’s light

does not wear makeup but the red blood stained tearmarks and black lips make up for it. only wears eyeliner sometimes

always smiling, looks like he’s on the verge of a laughing fit.

꒰ personality ꒱

seems serene, is anything but. very loud, very chaotic.

a psychopathic maniac, no joke. an actual sociopath with not a hint of morality left

blood thirsty and murderous - an exceptionally sadistic man who gets a kick out of the violence and suffering that he induces

has quite the god complex

he is erratic and unpredictable, something that he prides himself on. he even surprises some of his fellow rhytaari

a deeply obsessive and possessive man. if he sees something that he desires, he wants it - and he will have it. no matter what it takes

a yandere by nature, a wholehearted one

extreme sense of justice towards otherworldly and enigma. a very violent and vengeful sense of justice

has a very morbid sense of humor, but can also genuienly be funny

very devoted, will worship the people who catch his eyes. however, this is extremely rare

despite his extremities, he is loving. he can be gentle. just cooperate

deep down, he’s still wanderlusting

꒰ with a lover ꒱

in contrast to his crazed self, well — he’s still crazy. less murderous with you, however.

he adores holding you close and pampering you. even if he’s covered in blood from his last murder spree. he’s a clingy and very touchstarved man.

extremely possessive of you and gets jealous very quick when he sees you interacting with someone who isn’t him and if that means keeping you in his estate to have you all to himself, he will.

he absolutely loves your laughter, he cannot get enough of it. and so he will do anything to make you laugh, watch you feel good. he could listen to it forever.

loves to dance you around in his garden. tipping you over and kissing you passionately. he is a cliche romantic. even if it seems shocking, he is.

while he does not eat himself, he does love to cook for you. it’s a love language of his, along with acts of service. anything that makes you happy and feel good, and gets you to stop crying after he’s been just a little erratic, will make him a happy rhytaari.

don’t try to run away darling. he can find you, nevermind where you run to. you’ll agitate him. you don’t want to agitate him, why would you do that to him? hasn’t he done enough for you? why don’t you just fucking love him?

late night walks throughout the hallways of his estate is a must, he loves to drag you to the bathrooms too and bathe you. help your muscles relax.

talk to him, it doesn’t matter what it is you wanna talk about, he wishes to hear you talk about your favorite drink, your favorite animal, your favorite topics. it calms him down, it calms you down too. for a moment, even if it is only for a day or an hour. you see him calm, almost a nicer version of himself.

worships you and the ground you walk on, it isn’t a joke when we say he treats you like a god. everything and every action you commit to will be admired greatly. praised. despite this, he also treats you like a living and breathing being. because he knows that you are.

surprisingly good at comforting once you get past at the fact that he laughs when he does. you soon learned he doesn’t laugh because he thinks anything is funny though.

oh if you are comfortable with it he would love to cover you up in blood with him. dance you around on the blood red streets he’s made for you. a dancefloor for only the two of you.

likes making bouquets for you, he will gather all of the flowers you like and puts them around the estate.

꒰ strengths ꒱

the rhykana: the magic that flows through all rhytaari and make them as powerful and as erratic as they are. this magic is ever growing and ever powerful, giving each rhytaari a spin on their signature and enhancing it to disastrous degrees

soul pulling: he is able to pull souls from the afterlife, from reapers and souls that have not passed on. he thus puppets these souls and turns them into his ‘phantoms’, turning them into vicious ghosts that induce havoc

resentment feeding: he practically feeds on resentment from around him

꒰ weaknesses ꒱

. . .

꒰ relationships ꒱

the maharaja: partner in crime? lover?

rishen herrera: enemy ( constantly chasing him )

꒰ extra ꒱

the maharaja: partner in crime? lover?

rishen herrera: enemy ( constantly chasing him )“dont contact your family members beyond the grave, you might speak to something you don’t exactly want to”

it is said that he dwell in an estate at the border of the city

he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and english

he is known as the third most powerful and deadly rhytaari, apart of “the six”

he has a floating eye that scouts the city. it has no name.

#﹙ tea time. ﹚: haoyu 9948v 𖹭 ݁#monster boyfriend #teratophillia #yandere x reader #terato #yandere teratophilia #monster fucker #phantom x reader #villain x reader #monster x reader #x reader #reader insert #monster oc #oc x reader #original character x reader #haoyu 9948v #asterism

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sinnaea · 7 months ago

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Krauser/You RE fanfic, page one rough draft, Fem! reader

Oops! I thought I was done writing about Krauser but he's becoming my current obsession. My brain has been firing on all pistons and coming up with all kinds of HCs. I want to explore what kind of a man he may be when he's off duty...

Summary You’re a dancer at a distinguished gentlemen’s club and your most loyal and favorite customer has arrived. You haven’t seen him in months and he asks you for a special request before he leaves again on one last mission. (Pre-RE4R)

Saturday nights always draw a more boisterous crowd. The gentlemen’s club never felt unsafe and you know there are worse places to dance at. You’ve been there before. After dancing and entertaining here for a couple years, you became spoiled by the upscale establishment, security and elite clientele. Yet, you never look forward to the crowd on Saturday nights. The money is good enough and you need it. So, you always give it your all.

You sit at your vanity along with the other dancers and entertainers in a large dressing room. A plush robe keeps you warm and comfortable for the time being as you lay out all your cosmetics. When suddenly, one of the booking assistants calls to you from behind. You turn and listen as your brush your long locks.

“You’ve been booked in lounge number four,” they inform.

A hefty weight lifts from your shoulders and you sigh in relief. A private booking means you can get away from the general crowd for while.

“What time?” you ask casually. “And how long?”

“As soon as you start,” the assistant answers, “and it’s for the entire night.”

You pause but perk up. A soft exhale escapes your nose as your lips pucker into a small smile. A nervousness tickles within you but slowly charges you with giddiness. You set your brush down on the vanity.

“Is it who I think it is?” you ask hopeful.

The assistant winks and chuckles. “You already know.”

You return to your vanity and diligently prepare yourself they way your favorite customer likes. It has been a few months since you last saw him which is not entirely unusual given he works for the government in the military. But you still remember all the things he prefers. Remembering your clients’ likes and dislikes are part of your job after all. It’s what keeps them coming back to you, especially him.

He has an eye for elegance yet practicality. That lace bralette and thong with the garter belt you put on always left a permanent smile on his face. Purple and black are his colors of choice so you paint your eyes dreamy and smoky with those. He also loves the way the loose curls of your hair swirls around your body when you dance for him. And whenever you draw close, you can tell by his silent inhale he loves that rose and vanilla perfume you wear. It’s what prompted him to give you the pet name “Rosy.”

The private lounge rooms are like a completely different world compared to the main area. They’re fully equipped with alcohol and cigars for you to serve to your client. The furnishings are much more lavish and well maintained. The lights are more dim and soft yet focused on only you and your client. It’s quieter and intimate.

There is a separate entrance for you into the private lounge and you stand behind the door with a few butterflies in your stomach and a confident smirk on your face. You straighten your posture, raise up your chin and puff up your locks. Taking in a relaxed breath, you turn the knob and enter the room.

It’s silent all for the clicking of your heels on the dark laminate floor. There’s a subtle haze in the air and you smell the slight spice and wood from a burning cigar. He’s already made himself comfortable which makes you chuckle internally. You walk into a more focused light next to a silver dance pole and you can barely make out the outline of his body sitting on a leather chair in the shadow in front of you. You still know it’s him.

You wrap an arm up and around the silver pole like a crawling ivy, revealing your full figure and curves under the light. You lean forward, slightly pushing up your breasts and arching your low back, as you tantalizingly speak into the shadow.

“Been a long time, Soldier Boy.”

The creak of the leather couch sounds off as he leans forward and out of the shadow. His face comes into the light and you finally see him. That rugged yet handsome face that bore yet another scar from who knows what. He was dressed rather sharp in a black suit and tie. But it always made you giggle seeing his massive and muscular body barely contained in his clothes. The lit cigar dangles from his lip and he takes one last puff before setting it down. He runs a hand through his slick blonde hair as his scarred lips curl into a smile.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Rosy.”

You’ll never forget that voice. So rough and growly that you know hides something more gentle underneath that is Jack Krauser.

#resident evil fanfiction #resident evil #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #ao3 writer #jack krauser #re4 krauser #resident evil krauser #krauser x reader #krauser x you #fem!reader

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delta-lethonomia · 5 hours ago

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Tried to narrow it to a few and was not successful: 8, 10, 13, 16, 17

8. see last post!

9. worst part of fanon

Hmm. This is actually pretty difficult, I feel like I'm only exposed to such a curated selection of fanon these days I completely miss all the wild takes. I will say that I don't think Astarion would necessarily do that much embroidery/sewing after the events of the game. I got the impression that a lot of it was because he needed to look attractive and put together, lacked the resources to acquire new things, and embroidering dumb things on his underwear was the only amount of bodily autonomy he could flex. He can't exactly dye his hair, cut it, or steal any jewelry without it getting stolen by the other spawn: he literally only has the clothes on his back, and they need to be kept in good condition if he wants any degree of success enticing higher class/presumably less violent and more attractive people back to Cazador.

If anything, I think post-bg3 he'd splurge and get himself nice things, holding onto fraying clothing for far too long but not repairing it. He can buy things now - but the urge to hoard it would still exist, while patching it might strike too close to old habits. He'd pick up the thread and think of something, but wouldn't be able to bring himself to embroider anything for himself. A partner though, yes, but not himself.

There's no need for a stamp across his ass if no one's going to see it anymore.

13. worst blorbofication

the bestest babygirl Astarion. Seriously. What the fuck. We've got Snape levels of delusion about this bitch. He's been "draco in leather pants'd" enough that it's flipped around entirely, because Astarion does actually wear leather pants, so instead he's heteronormative fantasy #142 where he's loving husband material, ready to have adorable dhampir babies and sweetly make love under the blankets of their 3-bedroom house with white picket fence while assuring tav/durge that's 100% ready to have missionary sex again with deep eye contact where maybe one of them gets to come, because it's fine, we don't need sex for emotional intimacy. ????

Astarion absolutely can be kind in a bitchy, understated way, but every time I see a thing where he's too nice I want to write a scene where he does something horrible or picks a fight. Let👏 him 👏 murder 👏

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

ok already answered BUT HAVE ANOTHER! (Actually have 2!) I don't like "Sweet, supportive Astarion" characterizations. I think no matter the trauma, his is always going to be worse, and even if he doesn't say it he's definitely thinking it. I don't think he'd be actively sweet, more… deliberately not being an asshole, at best. Crying about your mum dying? He'll let you cry on his shoulder, give a sentence of comfort, then change the conversation. Very stiff upper lip - "Must be talk about this?"

Wait ok I just thought of the actual controversial take. I don't get the obsession with putting Astarion in dresses. He's beautiful, yes, but there are a lot of handsome men in fiction, but Astarion especially get put into dresses a lot. Is it because of the wavemother robes??? Did that unlock something in people??? Is it because he comes across as gay sometimes, so therefor let's put him in women's clothing, because crossdressing stereotypes? Putting any man in a dress is subversive, I get that, I just don't get what about Astarion makes people so feral for it. Skimpy clothing, yes, but the heels and dresses. why.

It makes me think of nail polish on men these days. I get the impression it's a certain flavor of liberal man who wears nail polish as a subversive act, trying to show that feminine things aren't lesser, that they're not ashamed of wearing them, but Astarion's absolutely a rather conservative character politically. Like… babygirl's voting Tory/Republican, if he's voting at all. Sorry.

Maybe I'm thinking too deeply about this lol. But for real - he's a very masculine-coded character. He cries once, and that's an overwhelming cathartic release after centuries of pain. He's assertive in sex scenes. Even though he sounds like he's close to tears sometimes, he pushes past emotional things very quickly, is driven by a need for freedom, to provide for the player and be powerful enough for the both of them, to keep them safe, has a drive for power that's frightening, and will throw down if it comes down to it. He threatens you if you tell him no about sharing the tadpoles, even after sleeping together. His shoulders are much broader than you think. He's very, very masculine, both in body and values, he just also happens to be a flirt and has had trauma and submission beaten into him. In elf terms, he's the chaddest chad to ever chad.

He would also fold one leg over the other at the knee while sitting on a stool that gives stereotypical "gay" vibes, but I can also see him manspreading all over the place. But I just don't see fanart of Astarion manspreading with a prominent bulge the same way I see dress fanart everywhere. I feel like I just don't get the appeal enough to unpick this!

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

Crushing Ascended Astarion into the dirt. I'm so, so glad Larian added that option to take control of him after becoming the Absolute - he doesn't see it coming at all, and it's so good. I just want to see AA as far away from power as possible, struggling with himself, and maybe regretting the Ascension and all that he lost. I don't think AA is completely hopeless - he's still Astarion, just dumber, more arrogant, more scared and out of touch with himself, with all those emotional walls snapped back into place all the harder - but that just makes me want to crack him like an egg.

Oh, or fics/art where Tav/Durge left him instead of becoming his spawn. He lets them leave, but I don't think he ever gets over it, and it's his last little shred of goodness/arrogance/self-pity that prevents him from taking them back forcefully. Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth by howlsmovinglibrary is obviously the best example of this and can't be topped, but I want more cakes!!! Not of "darkly seductive vampire lord Astarion seducing an old flame back to his side" cake, but of "disaster AA embarrasses himself by becoming more pathetic over an obsession he just can't shake." The higher they rise, the harder they fall.

He just wants to be loved unquestionably despite thinking of himself as a proven monster and therefore unlovable

#astarion #ask delta #choose violence ask game #ascended astarion #delta.txt

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rainydayathogwarts · 2 years ago

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ᴄᴏᴡᴏʀᴋᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴇx ᴘᴛ.3 (ꜰɪɴᴀʟ) - ʀᴏʙɪɴ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

pt. 1 | pt. 2

I'm sorry this took so long for me to write, I had the weirdest two weeks of my life and exams are coming like now. I hate this but I also love it. wc: 1.3k Summary: I'm not telling you, you need to go read the first two parts!! Warnings: Internalised homophobia, angsty? Idk they get into an argument. Reader gets defensive quickly and is kind of a bitch.

@gracieluvthemoon @darkd3sire

"Hi" She breathed out, looking over your shoulder and into the room ahead, clearly searching for some sort of distraction. "I'm so glad you're here. Oh-come in. Sorry" You rushed, moving out of the doorway to let the rosy cheeked girl in.

Your eyes caught on the car she had come out of in the background, vaguely similar to one you had spent sleepless nights in. A red BMW. Steve's red BMW. Realising you'd been looking at him, Steve awkwardly waved at you and you clenched your jaw, stiffly raising a hand to say 'hi'.

Why on earth was he so close to her? I mean, of course, they were friends even while you were dating. In fact, Robin was the reason you broke up. Not because he caught feelings for her, because you did. But what if he had as well? Or what if he moved on too quickly? Why did they just suddenly get closer once you two called it quits?

And then you were regretting decisions you made all over again. Maybe the looks Robin gave you were purely platonic and you had misinterpreted them to be something more. I mean no one, no one, liked someone of the same sex. No one but freaks and Robin was in no way, shape or form, one of those.

You snapped back to the present just as you heard Robin muttering a quiet "Oh, hi Nancy." You didn't have to turn around to see Nancy's curt nod back to Robin. Cringing internally, you spun on your heels, kicking the door shut and dragging Robin towards the living room, where the party took place. Next to you, Robing held her breath. Everyone in the room was from your inner circle, meaning either she would have a terrible night with people trying to make small talk with her or you really did like her the way she thought you would. "Could I get you a drink?" You ask, already making your way back to the kitchen. Following you like a lost puppy, Robin enters the kitchen, where you kick out some boys trying to steal one too many beers. You open one, taking a sip and offering the bottle to Robin. She crinkles up her nose and takes it from your hand. She brings it close to her face, before taking a drink from it and scrunching her face in disgust. Hearing your giggles, Robin opens her eyes, and quickly gives you the bottle back when you offer to take it. "How about some punch?" You suggest, and Robin eagerly nods. "So," She starts. "Literally everyone here is pretty much a jock. Why am I here?" You raise an eyebrow, trying to mask the blood rushing to your face. "Please, have you seen Nancy? What about her is a jock?" Robin opens her mouth, trying to argue back, but her cheeks flush a dark pink and she closes it again. "I-fair point. But come on Y/N, I'm a band kid! I've shared classes with some of these people, but I bet if you asked one of them who I am, they won't know." You sigh, putting your drink down. "Well, does it matter what they think if I'm the one who invited you? I just wanted people I like here, but if you really hate it, you can go." You clenched your jaw, looking straight into Robin's eyes, trying to keep your face blank from any emotions. She furrowed her eyebrows, shaking her head, and started speaking even as her eyes glossed over with wet tears. "Steve says you do that when you're upset. Your jaw goes tight and you give people that mean stare until you start to cry and they have no idea what they've done wrong."

You scoffed, picking up an empty beer and throwing it in the bin. "Did he? Well I'm sorry you're so obsessed with my ex-boyfriend who asks me out again every single week that you'd come here to talk to me about it! I don't know what's happening with you guys, or what you think is happening, but he doesn't like you that way, I can tell you that! Did you just come here to mock me? To show off that you know him just as well as I do? To rub it in my face that you're the one who's with him everyday and not me? To make sure I know that you're the one listening to his dumb stories and listen to him talking about weird things he's noticed about people that any normal person wouldn't catch on to!? Is that it? Well like you said Robin, you're just a band kid, and that means nothing here!"

You're panting, tears running down your face and you aggressively rub the back of your hand against your nose. It goes scarily silent, the only exception of sound being your panting and the blaring music playing outside this door.

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes was all it took for you to throw out any chance of being in a relationship with Robin, and that was clear from the tears falling onto her rosy cheeks and the way her mouth fell open in shock at what you had said. "God, I-I can't believe it." Robin starts, and you can tell she's going to start ranting with the way she shakes her head faster than your eyes can keep track of. "I can't believe I thought you liked me. Like, not just like me like a friend like me, but like me like you liked Steve like me. But you just- you just like the attention don't you?"

"No, no Robin please."

"This entire time you just figured it out didn't you and you thought it would be amazing to keep not only my hopes high but Steve's, who continued to believe day by day that he still stood a chance with you while you played with my feelings, having me thinking that out of any universe, it would be this one where you liked girls."

You shook your head slowly, bringing up both your hands to rub at your eyes and mess the makeup you had spent a good hour putting on. "You could not be more wrong." You muttered. "You know why I broke up with him?" You asked, wiping the mix of makeup and tears on your trousers, and walking around the kitchen island to stand nearly chest to chest with Robin.

"I broke up with him because every time I walked into Scoops, I became more excited to see you than I was to see him. Because every time he took me into his arms and gave me the most amazing kiss I could ever dream of, I was hoping it would be someone else who did that. But clearly we don't feel the same way so feel free to leave."

You gestured to the door, but one of Robin's hands came up to cup your cheek and pull you into a soft kiss. Reluctantly, one of your hands came to rest on her hip as you returned the kiss, and you hooked a finger around her belt hoop, bringing her body closer to yours. You pulled away panting, Robin's eyes as wide as saucers. "Holy shit."

"I-uh, I'm sorry. For-" "No, no it's fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about liking attention and stuff. How about I make it up to you with uh- ice cream?" She asked.

You cringed. "Uh, as long as Steve isn't there. I think ice cream dates are forever ruined for me now."

#stranger things #stranger things fics #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #platonic!steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin stranger things #robin x y/n #robin buckley #steve and robin #robin x reader #wlw post #wlw blog #writers on tumblr #rainydayathogwarts

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taeyongsfemdom · 1 year ago

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A smile came upon your face as you stood in front of your large mirror in your bedroom, staring at yourself as you see one of your drivers pull up in the driveway, dropping off your angel after his trip to the grocery store, the front door opening and then closing as turned away from the mirror and headed downstairs.

"I'll be getting started on dinner soon, mistress!" taeyong said as he was putting the last bit of groceries away "been waiting on you to get home, sweetheart" your hands untying the white silk robe you had on, revealing your black lingerie set with a matching garter that hooked to your stockings. "Sorry if i was gone too-" his back pressed against the wall as he saw the black fabric cling to your curves and how the robe dropped to the floor along with a pink blush appearing on his cheeks while he was holding a box of rice crispy treats (they were his favorite)

"What's wrong little boy? Cat got your tounge?"

Ever since he started living with you, you knew that Taeyong was a virgin. You had developed an obsession with how bashful and quiet he would get around you, you were very experienced in the bedroom with men but there was something about inexperienced ones that set you on fire.

"You know what I've realized about you baby?" You got close to his ear & whispered "That you've never been with a woman, you haven't had the opportunity to be touched in places that's never been touched before, never understood what it's like to be wanted so badly" the lump in his throat moved as he gulped while looking at you, his heart looking like it was gonna bust out of his chest, your soft hands rubbing down his chest as the box of treats fell to the floor, your shoe kicking it off to the side"How about we skip dinner, so i can have you instead...see what's it's like to be with a real woman" your red manicured hand pulled his striped shirt collar as you pulled him to the living room, his back hitting the soft couch, fear appearing in his eyes as your high heel was sitting on his chest, his hands stuck to his sides while his breath slowed down as his eye was glued to the high heel. You knew how irresistible you were, everywhere you went you had men looking at you, most of them having girlfriends or wives.....you were that sexy. Taeyong was already attracted to you, but always kept it to himself and never got around to telling you how he feels, but it didn't take you long for you to realize that you were the woman of his dreams. The woman that he fucking needed and desired him the most besides those silly little girls who probably kisses their posters or the magazines they owned with his face on it, but you had the real thing at your mercy.

"U..u..um mistress, are you f..feeling alright?" His boba eyes staring at you as looked at him seductively while your lingerie clad body mounted his "I'm just fine my love, I'm just gonna indulge in you for a little bit" you winked at him as your red lips were about to kiss his before he managed to slide himself from under you, his shirt lifting up a little revealing his cute tummy "I..I u..uh need to g..go shower! I..I gotta c..cool off" you rolled your eyes as he slid away from you before looking at his crotch that had a visible bulge underneath along with the darkened blush on his face, his hand struggling to figure out whether to cover the boner or his face as he rushed upstairs, his head turning back to you as you stared him down evilly while grabbing a rose from the vase next to you, the sound of a door slamming making you laugh evilly with the rose touching your nose lightly.

"Run little rose run, you won't get away from me that easily....you're mine"

●Some random drabble that I did that was in my mind for a while 💋

#sub!taeyong #lee taeyong imagines #lee taeyong smut #sub!kpop #sub!nct #my fic

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blitzendoggo · 1 year ago

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Slice of Life

Just a slice of life from the Eldritch Gays.

Callisto/Prophis (1180 words)

Callisto was tired. He had sat through no less than ten meetings about restructuring Symetris and he was ready to just be home with his freshly married husband.

With an exhausted sigh, he teleports into their living room, expecting to see Prophis sitting in his armchair, but his husband is not even in the room.

The human does a quick scan of the room and sees Prophis' book lying on the seat, the bookmark several pages forward in the book, and an empty mug sitting on the side table. Callisto carefully picks up the mug and turns it over in his hands. It's a simple brown clay mug with poorly drawn flowers littering it and the mug itself is lopsided and poorly constructed. It would have been thrown out as trash, but this is Prophis' favorite mug.

Callisto smiles distantly as he thinks about the night that he made this mug with Prophis. It was far before the rift had happened and they had only just begun dating. The blond had the idea of doing a crafty date. Callisto was head-over-heels for Prophis and completely powerless to object -despite his general inability to do anything creative. He had made the mug -with Prophis' help, clearly- and had nervously given it to his then-boyfriend as a gift. He expected Prophis to put the ugly thing on a shelf, but it quickly became his favorite mug to drink anything from. Tea, coffee, water, never mattered to him.

After the Rift, it became Callisto's favorite mug, just as all of Prophis' favorite things became his favorites as well. His favorite mug became something for Callisto to drink from as he mourned his husband while he wore his husband's favorite shirt -which he hadn't taken off in days- and read his favorite book -a sappy romance that Callisto had never seen the appeal in but simply could not put it down even if it was his third read through.

He's pulled out of memory lane by the sound of muffled music. It's upbeat dance music that the man doesn't recognize as he follows the sound into the kitchen. Prophis, long white hair tied back in a messy bun, is dancing around the kitchen, singing, albeit poorly, along to the song.

The music is admittedly not Callisto's type, he prefers more classical-sounding music, but since Prophis' return, the elf's been obsessed with the more recent trends in music. He adores the upbeat nature of it and smiles every time any of the songs comes on.

Callisto notices that he must be cooking something as there are a number of ingredients scattered across the countertops and Prophis himself is dusted in flour and sugar and there appears to be chocolate streaked in his white hair.

The human watches from the doorway as his husband dances and spins, singing almost in key with the song. Somehow the Chaos God has yet to notice his husband as he returns to the oven and pulls out something that smells heavenly.

"Perfect!" Prophis says happily, hips still swinging side-to-side as he places it on the countertop. "Now I just need to taste-test the tea." Humming along to the music, Prophis blindly reaches for something to his left but finds nothing. He turns to look at the empty space and "hmphs" irritatedly as he starts to brush the powder off himself. "Must've left it in the living room- shit!" he yelps as he turns around and spots Callisto, dressed in his dark robes leaning against the doorway.

"Hello, love," Callisto says with a lopsided smile. "Did I scare you?"

The elf takes a moment to regain his composure before quickly and breathily saying, "Oh, just a little." He takes a deep breath, grounding himself, before walking over to his husband and giving him a kiss and melting into his arms. "How was work?"

"Awful, I don't think Doc breathed for the last two hours," Callisto laments as he holds onto Prophis, kissing his cheek before dropping his head to rest on Prophis' shoulder.

"Doc breathes?" Prophis counters feigning bewilderment.

Callisto pulls back and gives his husband a defeated look. "I'm beginning to question it."

Prophis barks a laugh. "I'm sorry, love," he comforts before his face lights up. "I made something for you!"

"Is it the thing you pulled out of the oven?" Callisto asks.

The elf stares at him for a moment before realization slowly dawns on his face. "How long were you standing there?" he asks slowly as the tips of his ears slowly turn pink.

"Long enough to see you dancing around the kitchen with chocolate in your hair," Callisto teases lovingly as he reaches up and wipes as much of the chocolatey goop up as he can. Prophis turns a brighter shade of red as the human pops the finger in his mouth. "It's quite good. What did you make?"

Prophis lights back up. "Oh, chocolate croissants!"

"Really now? Any reason why?" Callisto questions as he admires Prophis' smile, one of his favorite sights in all of Vontral and the eight realms.

"You had a long day of meetings and Doc ramblings," Prophis reasons, "And I know you like them."

Callisto smiles at his husband. "I certainly do like them, my dear."

Prophis kisses his cheek as he steps back. "I also made tea. I was going to taste-test it, but I left my mug in the other room."

"Do you mean this one?" Callisto holds out his husband's cup who stares at it for a moment before tentatively taking it from the human's hands.

"I still can't believe you kept this for seven hundred years," Prophis says quietly as he admires the subpar craftsmanship like it was handmade by the sculptors of old.

"It was your favorite, Gods know why, that thing is uglier than Glib, but it was still your favorite so I had to keep it for when you came back," Callisto explains easily and for the dozenth time since his husband has returned.

Prophis stares at the mug for another moment, turning it in his hands before looking up at the human with an amount of love that is not foreign to the elf's face, but nearly knocks him off his feet every time Callisto sees it. "I love it because the man I love made it for me."

They sit in a shared silence, both of them still, as if afraid any sudden movements would shatter the peace of it, only for the whistle of the kettle to startle them both.

Callisto glares at it as if it had murdered his family which only causes his husband to titter out a laugh.

"Tea's ready," Prophis says, walking swiftly over to take the pot off the eye and pouring the hot liquid into his mug, and getting another mug from the cabinet next to him and pouring some tea into it. "Here," he says as he hands the secondary cup to his husband.

"Thank you, my love," Callisto says as he takes the swiftly warming cup from Prophis.

"Anything for you," Prophis smiles.

#d&dorks #callisto #prophis #callisto/prophis #this was inspired by me dancing around my room and my partner watching me with mild amusement #I'll be making a version of this but with the gays and Emmy

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funkeyberry · 2 years ago

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teen-a-day🥳 CAS challenge BY@dizzywhims

DAY19 Influencer /DAY20 Artist

DAY19 Influencer

:Tip your queen one Simoleon💋🤲～

Miss Peggita Shelly lives in 2022, but her inexpensive clothes and trinkets like the two-simoleon store always make people think that she lives in the last century. But she doesn't care about these, she is only 19, her followers love her. Since it is said to be outdated, then it is better to tag retro. Like her name, whether it's clams or shells or whatever, that's cheap, but she's still a beauty. /Tanner used to be a boy who hid himself under a head of tousled curly hair. At that time, he thought that he could avoid 60% of the troubles he experienced by showing a demeanor. Until a drag party night in the eleventh grade, when Garcino, who was wearing a choir robe and danced on the floor, pulled him on stage.Tanner felt that his tense nerves were gradually loosening, and the soul that had been watching for a long time was being released,returning to his body. There is nothing more joyful than dancing ecstatically. A year later, Tanner took on more than half of Rainbow Glitter's traffic share - in his simgram live broadcast room, in the name of a drag queen (the ghost knows how partial I am to this group(;￢_￢)

TANNER LOOK

💇🏼‍♂️HAIR@okruee/🩳SHORTS@trillyke

PEGGITA LOOK

💇🏼‍♀️HAIR Indigo(retiredcc)@simstrouble/👒HAT@rimings/🔗BOTTLE CAP EARRINGS@the-crypt-o-club/🌈CHOKER@saurusness/👠HEELS@shakeproductions

DAY20 Artist

:Ah…is it already afternoon😕

Waraque may not be that "artistic," but he sure lives like one. This may have something to do with his idol, Uncle Neil in "Art Simmack". The works are all small gadgets, such as garlands, signs, inkjet paintings, decorative paintings and party installations. He did most of the visual effects in the citadel of Rainbow Glitter. Waraque had logically acquired a workshop in their party warehouse, though Garcino called it a utility room. Waraque has a subtle obsession with cleanliness. Whether it is a workaholic or a decadent old smoker, you can tell by his white apron (condemn this blogger only knows to post scenes👊

🎨BERET@aharris00britney/⛓NECKLACE@pralinesims/🚬CIGARETTE@haneco410/🎈PATCHES FROM Chiyo Jacket Dress @trillyke/🖤Fright Night Tatoos@the-crypt-o-club/💎RINGS @natalia-auditore

AND thanks a lot to all the cc creators🤩!!!

if any linguistic mistake just blame theGoogle translate for All hhhhhh👻

#teen-a-day #teen a day #the sims 4 #create a sim #maxis mix #ts4 screenshots

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apoptoses · 2 years ago

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Those tender moments, under this roof Lestat/Armand 3.5k (blood sharing/lestat’s mixed feelings on making a home/pampering as a love language) Also on AO3

There was no sign of any of the residents of Trinity Gate but their presence was unmistakable in the things they left behind.

Auvergne was such a liminal space still. Lestat wondered if a court could ever really be a warm and welcoming place such as this. If he’d ever again have a place to call home, or if the possibility of that had been dashed to pieces when Claudia’s knife pierced his throat.

Trinity Gate.

Lestat stood before the black lacquered doors but made no move to turn the handle. He’d once spent so much time outside these doors, lurking like some pitiful thing on the opposite side of the street as he scanned the minds of the house’s inhabitants, unable to bring himself to be normal and knock. He’d gone inside eventually, of course. The crisis with Amel had compelled him to. But that was several months ago, now that he’d come for a social call he still felt like something of an intruder.

He looked back at Cyril and Thorne, posted at the gate.

Well, Lestat couldn’t embarrass himself by tucking tail and turning around now. He was a prince now. Princes weren’t scared to enter their one time enemy/part time lover/full time obsession’s house. He swallowed hard and turned the knob.

Within the foyer there was only silence, punctuated by the click of Lestat’s heels on the marble floor. He wandered down the hall, glancing into every open room along the way. The place was a warren of old rooms, nestled together like little jewelry boxes, each one replete with art and antiques worthy of any museum. Under anyone else’s hand the place would have felt stuffy. But Armand had made it a home.

On the priceless sofas the throw pillows were still dented from use, and a blanket tossed onto one trailed onto the floor. In a parlor Lestat found Benji’s abandoned video game system (a swap? A switch? He’d already forgotten). The unused kitchen countertop was covered with half-finished miniatures, and a book lay open on the table. There was no sign of any of the residents of Trinity Gate but their presence was unmistakable in the things they left behind.

“Hiding like this when your prince is here is very unbecoming, you know,” Lestat called out. His voice echoed off the kitchen’s tiled walls.

Perhaps they’d all gone out. Figured that the one time Lestat deigned to gift them with his presence they’d all be away, leaving him to wander the halls like some long forgotten spinster.

Lestat glanced at his reflection in a useless refrigerator. “Ah well. This was never meant to be a place for you anyways,” he muttered to himself. He turned to leave.

The floorboards upstairs creaked. He reached out with his mind.

Someone was there, in the sitting room that overlooked the garden. Their mind was locked tight but Lestat could feel their presence getting stronger as he went up the stairs.

The sitting room was a lovely thing. He’d seen Louis in it via the minds of others plenty of times, sitting on the parquet floor with a book as Armand combed his fingers through his hair. He’d been sick with jealousy then, though jealous of who he was never able to decide. He wondered if he might come upon that sort of scene again. What a kick to the teeth that would be, being blown off by the two beings he treasured most, even if half the time he could hardly bear to admit it.

There was a pit in Lestat’s stomach as he opened the door, but on the other side was only Armand.

He was wrapped in an old silk robe, curled up in a wingback chair before the fire. He didn’t look up when Lestat came in, just continued picking through the pouch he had in his lap, auburn curls tumbling down around his face and feet tucked up under him like a child.

Lestat leaned in the doorway to take him in. He was a vision. He always was, always had been, even when he’d been a dusty little urchin crawling around the catacombs. Lestat had the urge to braid back his hair for him. To drag a wash tub into the room and bathe him in front of the fire, the way he should have done when he’d shattered his coven in Les Innocents.

You look ravishing, he wanted to say. I worry about you.You shouldn't ever be left alone, after all you’ve been through. You should go through life with lovers vying to sit at your feet.

Armand glanced up. This was the moment. Lestat should make some loving overture, get this visit off on the right foot. Show that he can be an excellent guest and ensure his welcome at Trinity Gate from here on out.

“Where is Louis? I’ve searched this entire crypt of a house and I can’t find him anywhere,” he said instead.

So much for loving gestures. Armand rolled his eyes.

“He went out to see a documentary with Daniel,” Armand murmured. He pulled out a tiny bottle of nail polish and examined it. “Something about fish. I imagine they’ll feed after, it should be several hours before their return.”

“Ah, yes. Louis’ latest fascination, fishing. I don’t understand it, one would think it’s possible to sit in the dark and be maudlin at home. It’s hardly necessary to go to some stinking lake god knows where to be silent and bored,” Lestat rambled. “Don’t you agree? Don’t tell me he’s roped you into it too, I can’t imagine you in some khaki fly fishing vest.”

A horrible nervous habit of his, really, running off at the mouth. But he couldn’t help it. He and Armand were so rarely alone together, and when they were it always ended in fighting or fireworks, impossible to predict which.

Which was part of the appeal. Lestat had spent plenty of wonderful nights making smart mouthed remarks until Armand flew at him, and they ended up in a bloody, exhilarated heap on the floor. But for every good fight there was a bad one. So many times Armand had simply walked away from him in disgust. Lestat didn’t want that tonight, not at all.

Though it would probably turn out that way in the end. He had such a knack for bungling these things.

“Why have you come here? I thought you would be setting up court in Auvergne still,” Armand said.

“Court is boring and overwhelming in turns, there’s so many political details to iron out before we can get to the entertainment. And you know what they say, all work and no play-”

Makes Lestat liable to stir up trouble for us all?

Armand’s voice in his head was as clear as if he’d said it out loud, the little imp. Flat, expressionless. Impossible to tell if he was flirting or insulting him. Sometimes Lestat wasn’t certain if that was part of who Armand was or if he put on that blank facade just to rile him up.

He crossed the room and took the bag from Armand’s hands. It was someone’s makeup bag, filled with colored powders and nail polish. “What is this, anyways? Planning to play dress up in here, all alone?” he asked.

Bianca left it here, she has some polish that makes her hands look so very mortal. It was only thanks to Lestat’s heightened senses that he noticed Armand’s eyes narrow in suspicion, such a tiny movement it was. He reached out to take the bag back. I am capable of handling a paintbrush by myself.

Unable to help himself, Lestat held it up high, out of his reach. When Armand huffed out a sigh and folded his arms he grinned.

Did you come here merely to harass me?

“No, I came here because I needed a break from politics. Harassing you is just a bonus,” Lestat said. And a good thing I did come here, you shouldn’t be all alone like this. What are your foolish fledgings thinking, abandoning you?

They didn’t abandon me. They went out. I can survive a night alone.

He wasn’t wrong. Lestat had always known that out of all of them Armand was the one who had the tenacity to endure almost anything.

Fine. Then you shouldn’t be alone when I could be here with you instead. You have only to call me, you know. You so rarely do.

The same could be said for you. Armand sat back in the chair, tension loosening from his shoulders. Such a pretty thing he was, looking up at Lestat through his lashes. You’re here with me now, aren’t you?

“Yes. And we’re all alone too, whatever shall we do?” Lestat teased and looked back into the bag he was holding.

He’d always wanted to take care of Armand, to spoil him a little. This was as good a chance as any.

He plucked a pillow from the sofa and tossed it to the floor at Armand’s feet. Lestat sat down, legs folded up under himself, and dug through the bag to find Bianca’s manicure supplies; a handful of polish bottles and a little glass nail file. It reminded him so much of Tough Cookie and her makeup kit it made his heart ache.

Lestat picked up a nail file and took Armand’s hand in his. “Don’t you ever dare tell anyone your prince came and sat at your feet to do this,” he warned.

Or what will you do? Put me in the stocks like a criminal? Flog me?

Lestat snorted. “No, you’d like that too much, I think,” he said as he ran the file along the edge of his nail. “I don’t know why anyone compares you to a Botticelli angel when you’re such a crass little demon at heart.”

Such lovely hands he had, such long, delicate fingers. Armand was completely pliant for him, he let Lestat turn his hand this way and that as he filed his nails. Not that he truly even needed to. Either Marius had instilled a great sense of personal hygiene in him before his body was frozen in death or he took great care to keep his hands looking tidy and almost mortal. Only the length of his nails gave him away, just long enough to peek beyond the tip of his finger and cut into his victims.

More than once, Lestat had been on the receiving end of those claws; first in their fight in Notre Dame, later with Armand’s arms wrapped around him, slicing his bare shoulders to ribbons as he sunk his fangs into his tender neck. Even in their tender moments he was a delightfully violent thing.

Lestat dragged the file over his thumbnail, switched to his other hand. His mind was often such a chaotic place but sat here with nothing but Armand’s hand in his and the low crackle of the fire it all went quiet. For once all he had to do was focus on the task he’d set himself. For once it was a task that he didn’t feel he’d most likely fuck up. He sorted through Bianca’s polish collection for a good color.

A dark maroon, so deep it was almost black. He held up the bottle, and took Armand’s lack of protest as a sign to continue.

Lestat held his hand delicately, keeping his finger still though he knew Armand wouldn’t move. A dark color was unforgiving, he would have to work slowly to keep each stroke neat, to not get any on the delicate skin at the edge of his nail. Not that it was any matter. In the dark, quiet house, with only the two of them Lestat had hope that Trinity Gate might prove to be somewhere he belonged.

You do, you know. You belong here as much as anyone.

Armand’s voice in his head jarred him enough his hand slipped. A streak of red polish marred the edge of his finger, bright as blood. Lestat pursed his lips and scraped it away before it could dry.

“I didn’t say you could just poke around in my head like that,” he muttered.

He wanted to say something sharp, to sweep his vulnerable thought under the rug with a fight. He wanted to put the brush back into the bottle and walk away.

Armand’s hand was on his cheek, tilting his chin up. Lestat tried to look away but Armand only turned his face, keeping himself in the center of his gaze so that he had to make eye contact. Where others might have looked upon him with pity, Armand’s eyes betrayed nothing but love. He brushed his thumb back and forth over Lestat’s cheek, the gesture so kind and soothing all he could do was close his eyes and tilt his face into his touch.

Keep distracting me like this and I’ll leave the rest of your hand a mess, Lestat said silently.

You won’t.

It was just as much a command as it was a vote of confidence. Lestat dipped the brush into the bottle and set about finishing up. A swipe over his ring finger and then his pinky, and then Lestat was able to take both of Armand’s hands in his to check his work.

Palm to palm like this it was impossible not to notice how different they were. Lestat’s fingers had retained the strength of a hard working youth, there were still the faint remains of calluses on his palms. But Armand had the delicate hands of the aristocrat, scholars’ bump on his middle finger and all. Lestat spread his fingers, marveled at how much more broad his own palm was than Armand’s.

If only every night could be so idyllic. Lestat had visions of them, fingers laced as they walked down Madison Avenue, of himself dragging his nails through Armand’s hair as they lay on the sofa in front of the fire. He tilted their hands, entertained by how Armand’s fingers were nowhere near as long as his own.

“Well? What do you think?” Lestat murmured. “You have to be careful now, if you touch anything you’ll ruin all of my hard work.”

Armand didn’t answer. His robe had fallen open and for a moment all Lestat got was a face full of his pale chest as Armand slid down from the chair straight into his lap. Sat like this the difference in their height was imperceptible. They were eye to eye as Armand wrapped his legs around his waist, forearms coming to rest carefully on Lestat’s shoulders so he could keep his hands safely out of the way.

Lestat wanted to chastise him about ruining his paint job but he found he was at a loss for words. They were close enough he could see freckles on the bridge of Armand’s nose, where the sun had once warmed his mortal face. His lips were still flushed pink from whatever kill he’d made earlier that evening. Lestat touched his chin, letting his thumb brush against his lower lip. Such a sensuous thing he was.

You’ve done a lovely job.

A curl was dangling in his eyes, and Lestat tucked it back behind Armand’s ear. “And is this to be my reward?” he asked.

If you wish.

Lestat nudged the tip of Armand’s nose with his. He made it seem like he might kiss him and then pulled away, delighting in the way Armand chased his mouth. If he were in a fighting mood he could wind Armand up that way, dodge his mouth until he was pouting and ripping at Lestat’s hair to keep him still. Nights like those they would struggle against each other until they were both left panting and bloody.

But Armand was so good for indulging in too. He let out the most delicious sound when Lestat gathered him up in his arms and pressed his mouth to his. Armand parted his lips so easily for him, got closer so they were chest to chest but it wasn’t enough. Now that Lestat had him he was eager for him. He turned Armand, laid him back onto the floor and leaned over him.

"You look like a gift, mon chèri, all laid out in that pretty little robe of yours." Lestat traced over his sternum, taking in Armand's heaving chest. His hands had come to rest on either side of his head, auburn hair fanned out like a halo around him. "Tell me, just how does anyone in this house ever get anything done with something like you around?"

"Where do you think flattery will get you, considering you already have me on my back?"

Armand pushed himself up onto his elbows. He made as if to lean up and catch Lestat's lip between his teeth but before he could Lestat stilled him, pressed him gently back toward the floor.

"Ah, ah," he murmured as he felt for the tie that held his robe shut. "I'm the one taking care of you tonight, remember?"

Armand laid back, waved his hand absently at Lestat as if to say 'go on'. Imperious, even in his submission. Lestat so adored him.

He unwrapped him slowly, pushing his robe open so that he could caress up his sides, tracing over each bump of his ribs. In the light of the fire he practically glowed, pink and pliant as any mortal. Lestat's mouth followed where his hands went; over the soft plane of Armand's stomach, in between the little spaces between his ribs. He caught his nipple between his teeth and teased at it until all of that haughty attitude was gone and Armand shivered and arched his back in silent demand for more. Lestat shifted to the other side and gave him what he wanted. He could hardly tell him no.

He tried to ignore the thirst building in him. It got stronger with every open mouthed kiss he pressed to the column of Armand's throat, with every bitten off sound that escaped Armand's lips. Lestat wanted so badly to string him along like this all night but when Armand wrapped his legs around his waist and locked him against him he knew it wouldn't last.

Lestat nuzzled at his jaw, listened to the steady pound of Armand's heart for a moment before he caught him in a kiss again.

He rolled his lip between his teeth just hard enough to give him that edge of pain he knew Armand loved so well, tugged at until he groaned and then pulled away. Armand’s mouth was swollen and red, his eyes half closed and glazed. He looked filthy, like a debauched saint in ecstasy when he tipped his head back and bared his throat, his artery standing out against his marble skin.

Armand didn't have to say anything. The way that he held Lestat's gaze, pressed his heels into his lower back to urge him on, it was as good of an invitation as he was going to get.

Still, he drew it out. Kissed his cheek. Dragged his fangs over the sensitive spot beneath Armand's ear just to hear his sharp inhale. Pity his nails were wet, and he couldn't bury his fingers in Lestat's hair to drag him down as he usually did. Though it was lovely having him as wound up and patiently waiting as he was. It made it such a delight to tease at his throat until neither of them could take any more.

Lestat gripped his shoulders tight and let his fangs sink into his skin.

The hot rush of his blood into his mouth was dizzying. Even as Armand let out a gasp at the pain he arched his throat up against Lestat's mouth and clutched him tight between his thighs. Like this they were as close as any two immortals could get and Lestat swallowed mouthful after mouthful, overwhelmed by the way Armand’s head tipped to one side to let him take as much as he wished. When he yielded he did it so beautifully.

Lestat was careful to pull off before Armand got weak with it. He sat there with his forehead against his shoulder as he tried to collect himself, and let himself indulge in the way Armand was rubbing soothing circles on his back. These intimate moments between them were so precious and rare. Lestat was loath to sit up and break the peace, though he knew the others would certainly return soon.

Perhaps he’d have to call upon Trinity Gate more often, if it meant getting to have him like this. He certainly wouldn’t hesitate at the door anymore.

“Lestat.”

He sat up at the sound of his name. Armand was a wreck beneath him. In his lust Lestat had managed to let a trail of blood escape. It had leaked down his shoulder, staining the collar of his robe bright red, but Armand hardly seemed to care. His expression was flat as he held out his hand before Lestat’s face.

Across his nail was an unmistakable blonde hair, trapped in the half dried polish.

I suppose you must stay home tonight and do them again.

Lestat rolled his eyes. “I know you did that on purpose, you little demon,” he murmured.

That’s not a complaint is it? Armand asked.

Lestat brushed the backs of his knuckles over Armand’s cheek, where it was flushed pink. “No, mon chèri, it isn’t. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said and leaned in to kiss the self-satisfied smile from his lips.

#hand doesn't even sound like a word anymore #this was such a nice indulgent break from the monster of a devil's minion thing i've been working on #i love when these two get to have a little sappy moment #they both so badly need it #lestat/armand #Lestat De Lioncourt #armand #the vampire chronicles #vc fic #apoptoses fic

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valentine-cafe · 4 months ago

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. ˚◞♡ 𝒛𝒉𝒂𝒐 𝒉𝒂𝒐𝒚𝒖 9948 𝒗 — 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒚 𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒎 ; 𝒓𝒉𝒚𝒕𝒂𝒂𝒓𝒊◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ “would you sacrifice yourself to the blood puddles I leave across the city, if it meant I could be your last sight?’ ꒱

. ˚◞꒰verse꒱ 9948v

. ˚◞꒰face claim refs꒱ ( x ) ( x ) ( x )

. ˚◞꒰species꒱ rhytaari, former grim reaper

. ˚◞꒰ethnicity꒱ chinese

. ˚◞꒰age꒱ 24

. ˚◞꒰gender꒱ male

. ˚◞꒰mbti꒱ enfp

. ˚◞꒰aliases꒱ the phantom, the third, the vengeful, voice beyond the grave, poltergeist

. ˚◞꒰appearance꒱

𖹭. very long black hair that extends down to his feet and is often tied up in elaborate styles. such as buns or with jewellery

𖹭. white eyes, with the faintest tint of red from bloody tears. sometimes they streak down his face. no pupils or sclera

𖹭. pale, almost moon glowing skin, with deep red veins up his arms and jaw

𖹭. pure white robes with softer and dustier reds covering it. often wears elaborate and elegant hanfus. has little wind chimes that hang from his robes — a warning sign of his appearance

𖹭. long, black talon like nails shaped in coffin style

𖹭. long black heels, with thorns on them

𖹭. stands at the height of 6’9” with a slender figure

𖹭. does not wear much jewellery, aside from a few dioxazine purple necklaces, and some ruby and silver chains

𖹭. standard lobe piercings with two red orchids dangling from them, while the two upper lobe are silver studs with rubies

𖹭. elongated tongue with rows of very sharp teeth, as white as the moon’s light

𖹭. does not wear makeup but the red blood stained tearmarks and black lips make up for it. only wears eyeliner sometimes

𖹭. always smiling, looks like he’s on the verge of a laughing fit.

. ˚◞꒰personality꒱

𖹭. seems serene, is anything but. very loud, very chaotic.

𖹭. a psychopathic maniac, no joke. an actual sociopath with not a hint of morality left

𖹭. blood thirsty and murderous - an exceptionally sadistic man who gets a kick out of the violence and suffering that he induces

𖹭. has quite the god complex

𖹭. he is erratic and unpredictable, something that he prides himself on. he even surprises some of his fellow rhytaari

𖹭. a deeply obsessive and possessive man. if he sees something that he desires, he wants it - and he will have it. no matter what it takes

𖹭. a yandere by nature, a wholehearted one

𖹭. extreme sense of justice towards otherworldly and enigma. a very violent and vengeful sense of justice

𖹭. has a very morbid sense of humor, but can also genuienly be funny

𖹭. very devoted, will worship the people who catch his eyes. however, this is extremely rare

𖹭. despite his extremities, he is loving. he can be gentle. just cooperate

𖹭. deep down, he’s still wanderlusting

. ˚◞꒰with a lover꒱

𖹭. in contrast to his crazed self, well — he’s still crazy. less murderous with you, however.

𖹭. he adores holding you close and pampering you. even if he’s covered in blood from his last murder spree. he’s a clingy and very touchstarved man.

𖹭. extremely possessive of you and gets jealous very quick when he sees you interacting with someone who isn’t him and if that means keeping you in his estate to have you all to himself, he will.

𖹭. he absolutely loves your laughter, he cannot get enough of it. and so he will do anything to make you laugh, watch you feel good. he could listen to it forever.

𖹭. loves to dance you around in his garden. tipping you over and kissing you passionately. he is a cliche romantic. even if it seems shocking, he is.

𖹭. while he does not eat himself, he does love to cook for you. it’s a love language of his, along with acts of service. anything that makes you happy and feel good, and gets you to stop crying after he’s been just a little erratic, will make him a happy rhytaari.

𖹭. don’t try to run away darling. he can find you, nevermind where you run to. you’ll agitate him. you don’t want to agitate him, why would you do that to him? hasn’t he done enough for you? why don’t you just fucking love him?

𖹭. late night walks throughout the hallways of his estate is a must, he loves to drag you to the bathrooms too and bathe you. help your muscles relax.

𖹭. talk to him, it doesn’t matter what it is you wanna talk about, he wishes to hear you talk about your favorite drink, your favorite animal, your favorite topics. it calms him down, it calms you down too. for a moment, even if it is only for a day or an hour. you see him calm, almost a nicer version of himself.

𖹭. worships you and the ground you walk on, it isn’t a joke when we say he treats you like a god. everything and every action you commit to will be admired greatly. praised. despite this, he also treats you like a living and breathing being. because he knows that you are.

𖹭. surprisingly good at comforting once you get past at the fact that he laughs when he does. you soon learned he doesn’t laugh because he thinks anything is funny though.

𖹭. oh if you are comfortable with it he would love to cover you up in blood with him. dance you around on the blood red streets he’s made for you. a dancefloor for only the two of you.

𖹭. likes making bouquets for you, he will gather all of the flowers you like and puts them around the estate.

. ˚◞꒰strengths꒱

𖹭. the rhykana: the magic that flows through all rhytaari and make them as powerful and as erratic as they are. this magic is ever growing and ever powerful, giving each rhytaari a spin on their signature and enhancing it to disastrous degrees

𖹭. soul pulling: he is able to pull souls from the afterlife, from reapers and souls that have not passed on. he thus puppets these souls and turns them into his ‘phantoms’, turning them into vicious ghosts that induce havoc

𖹭. resentment feeding: he practically feeds on resentment from around him

. ˚◞꒰weaknesses꒱

𖹭. . . . . .

. ˚◞꒰relationships꒱

𖹭. the maharaja: partner in crime? lover?

𖹭. rishen herrera: enemy ( constantly chasing him )

. ˚◞꒰story꒱

the clink of wind chimes in the dead of the night.

numerous ghostly whispers and malevolent giggles surrounding a looming darkness. colourless peering eyes stare at the array of scattered bodies. painting the ground like the edges of his white robes.

what’s his mission -

justice?

revenge?

perhaps it’s just malicious glee and a lust for carnage. the trail of needless massacres certainly point to it.

and all with a grin glued to his face. a rictus smile to match the horrors of pale, ghostly hands.

. ˚◞꒰extra꒱

𖹭. “dont contact your family members beyond the grave, you might speak to something you don’t exactly want to”

𖹭. it is said that he dwell in an estate at the border of the city

𖹭. he speaks chinese ( mandarin ) and english

𖹭. he is known as the third most powerful and deadly rhytaari, apart of “the six”

𖹭. he has a floating eye that scouts the city. it has no name.

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ the specials — haoyu 9948v ꒱#teratophillia #terato #yandere teratophilia #yandere x reader #yandere oc #phantom x reader #ghost x reader #rhytaari x reader #x reader #monster fucker #monster oc #monster x reader #oc x reader #original character x reader #haoyu 9948v #asterism

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just-a-draco-girly · 9 years ago

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The Secret - Chapter Eight

Nervously, I adjust the dark green chiffon material of my dress as I look at myself in the mirror. I let Charlotte do my makeup again which consists of dark smoky eye shadow and eyeliner with the pinky-nude coloured matte lipstick that I've come to grow fond of since Draco complimented me on it in Hogsmeade at the start of the year. My hair is held back in a plaited bun with a few curly tendrils falling lazily at the side of my face. I drop my eyes to my feet which are adorned with a silver pair of ballet flats. I somehow managed to avoid Charlie making me wear heels... again. A shaky sigh leaves my mouth when I turn to face Charlie, who is wearing a long, grey gown that is covered in sparkly gems and is sifting through her trunk to find her shoes.

"Charlie?" I call over, causing her to turn to me and nod in response. "I'm scared, I don't think I can do this..." I trail off, looking at my hands that are still playing with the soft skirt of my floor length dress. She sighs and moves over to my side, gently taking hold of my shoulders. I'm spun around and made to look in the mirror once more.

"Victoria, you are the most beautiful, smart, and witty girl I've ever met. I don't get what you see in an asshole like Malfoy..." She speaks, pausing when I glare at her in the mirror. "But he'd be lucky to have you. Any guy would for that matter" She adds, smiling sweetly at me as I continue to give her the stink eye.

If I am honest, despite her not liking Draco she has supported me completely through this whole ordeal. She understands that Draco has been my closest friend for a long while, and she knows who I'd pick if she tried to come between us. Draco. It's always been Draco since he accidentally kissed me when we were five years old. A small smile etches itself upon my face as I remember his little pale face turning the shade of a tomato.

"You're right. I shouldn't be nervous, I've known him my whole life" I speak, resolutely. Charlie pats my shoulder and grabs her clutch, passing me my own. Happily, we link arms and walk out of the dorm, heading down the stairs to the common room. We find her date, Thomas Witten, a fellow Ravenclaw from the year above us, waiting in a brown armchair by the portrait hole. He stands, straightening his jacket as we unlink our arms. Greeting us both, he gently takes Charlie's hand and I can see her dying inside. Thomas is quite the catch. Tall, dark haired and he's the captain of the house's Quidditch team. Youngest Quidditch captain in almost 200 years. Most of the girls in Ravenclaw are obsessed with him.

But he's not my type.

Our trio leaves the common room and walk down the corridor. I awkwardly follow, feeling overwhelmingly like a third wheel. The feeling soon dissipates when we reach the top of the staircase that descends into the entrance hall. My eyes immediately land on Draco, who is wearing a black shirt and tie with black trousers and dress robes. His usually messy blonde hair is slicked back, but parted slightly. In short, he looks perfect. I smile widely and slowly descend the stairs. I can feel his eyes watching me the entire time.

"Hi" I say, nervously smiling, as I come to a halt in front of him. His eyes that were staring at me blink rapidly and he slowly shakes his head.

"Um, hey" Draco mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. "You look... st-stunning" He speaks, amazement evident in his voice. My cheeks burn brightly, hopefully being hidden by the makeup Charlie put on earlier. I nervously respond with a curt thank you, before hearing a loud shriek of anger that sounded like it could only have came from one Pansy Parkinson.

"Drakey-poo!" She shouts, marching across the hall with tears streaming down her overly done makeup. She looks like a mess (well more than usual). Draco groans, rolling his ice blue eyes as she nears us. She shoves me out of the way when she stands in front of Draco, almost standing on the hem of my dress. I stumble slightly. Draco gently places his arm around my waist to steady me, instinctively pulling me into his side.

"Yes, Parkinson?" He asks, sneering almost. Pansy's pug face drops at the use of her surname. She hopefully has realised that Draco doesn't like her and sadly saunters towards the stairs that lead down to the Dungeons. I feel a slight pang of guilt as I watch her go.

"Don't you think that was a bit mean, Draco?" I question, gazing up at his tall frame.

"I've tried everything else and she still didn't leave me alone" He sighs, resignation taking over him. I softly pat his shoulder in some form of comfort. His arm still clings to my waist, restricting my movement. But I don't care.

"Malfoy!" Potter's voice booms from the stairs, causing both Draco and I to groan in disgust and turn to the source of his voice.

"What do you want, Potter?" He demands, sounding exhausted already due to Pansy and now Potter confronting him. Potter saunters down the stairs with the sense of entitled arrogance that only he, the chosen one, has. I thought Draco was entitled and arrogant until I met Potter in first year.

"So you've actually got yourself a date apart from Parkinson?" He speaks, snidely. Draco grinds his teeth together, only calming down when I place a hand on his chest to stop him from attacking the boy who lived.

"Yeah, he does and at least he didn't get his last minute unlike you, Potter" I reply, snapping at Potter's smug face. He does a double take before retreating to Weaselbee on the other side of the now crowded entrance hall, muttering nonsense angrily under his breath. A quiet chuckle escapes Draco's pink lips. I turn to him with a look of confusion on my face. "What?" Bemused, he continues to laugh at whatever joke is funny inside his head.

"I really don't get how you weren't put in Slytherin" He responds, still chortling slightly. I roll my eyes at him, pulling away from him. His other arm finds my waist and tugs me closer to him. He pulls me into a sort of embrace, leaning his chin on my shoulder. "But I wouldn't have you any other way" He whispers softly. His lips brushing against my ear, causing a shiver to run down my spine and goosebumps to appear on my skin.

Suddenly, he removes his arms from me and steps back. I frown in confusion until I see Blaise in fancy dress robes approaching us with Millicent Bulstrode clinging onto his arm happily. I wave nervously at the two, as I hardly know Blaise let alone Millicent. They come to a halt in front of us. We all greet each other and soon everyone is allowed to enter the Great Hall, which has been transformed into a winter wonderland.

The ball starts officially with the champions dancing with their partners to that stupid dance Professor Flitwick made us learn last week. I roll my eyes in disgust at Potter flouncing around with Pavarti Patil from the table that Draco and I are sat at. Noticing Draco's eyes fixed on my face, I turn my gaze to him and earn a smirk from the blonde

"Please, don't make me dance to this stupid song" I plead, locking eyes with his blue orbs. His eyes soften slightly as he stares at me with his chin perched on his hand carelessly.

"Alright" Draco chuckles. "But only if you promise to dance with me later" He adds, winking slyly. I nod in agreement, causing a goofy grin to spread across his lips. He shuffles his chair closer to mine and I instinctively rest my head on his shoulder, as his arm wraps around my torso and we watch the dancers frolicking around the Great Hall.

.................................

"So where's my dance?" Draco asks, cheekily nudging my arm with his. I had promised him a dance two hours ago after the feast had finished, but nonetheless I roll my eyes. A light blush covers my cheeks.

"I guess I could dance with you" I sigh dramatically. "If I really have to" I add, taking hold of his hand that was held out to me and allowing him to lead me to the dance floor as a slow song starts. His right arm slinks around my waist, pulling me gently into him. Tentatively, I place my left hand on his shoulder, whilst he takes hold of my other hand and we begin to sway slowly to the music. I lazily rest my head in his shoulder, letting out a content sigh.

We sway like this until the rest of the song, contained in our own little bubble, until Professor Dumbledore announces that it is the end of the festivities and that students should return to their dormitories. A low groan leaves Draco as we reluctantly pull away from each other. I giggle helplessly at his disgruntlement. This causes Draco to stick his tongue out at me and I lightly punch him in the arm. We make our way out of the Great Hall slowly among the crowds of students, Draco's hand gripping mine. Keeping me close to him.

"Draco!" A shout from the other side of the entrance hall causes Draco to stop abruptly and I stumble into his back clumsily. I look around in a bid to find the source of the voice, as Blaise and Millicent emerge from the throng of dithering students.

"Hey" Draco greets them, casually. Millicent timidly waves at the pair of us.

"So, looks like you won the bet" Blaise speaks, pulls out some galleons and drops them in Draco's outstretched palm, causing me to stare at them in confusion. Draco smiles smugly before pocketing the gold coins.

"What bet?" I ask, curiosity killed the cat but I don't care. Blaise raises an eyebrow at Draco, before turning to me.

"Oh, I bet Draco that he wouldn't be able to get you to go to the Yule Ball with him" He says, earning a hard glare from Draco's cold blue eyes. What? This was a dare? I glance up at Draco, as I feel tears threaten to spill over my lower lashes. He opens his mouth to speak, but he is suddenly cut short when my hand makes contact with the side of his pale face. The sound of my hand making contact with his skin causes eyes from the surrounding crowd of students to fall on the pair of us.

"Don't Draco. I thought you actually cared about me!" I push him away as he makes an attempt to reason with me. Tears now flow freely down my cheeks, leaving black mascara trails.

Hurriedly, I turn away from him and sprint up the grand staircase with a tear stained face and a broken heart.

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#the secret #draco fanfiction #harry potter fandom #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco fanart #draco x oc #harry potter universe #wizarding world #ravenclaw #slytherin #cedric diggory

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shereen1 · 8 months ago

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Embrace Effortless Elegance: The Kaftan Maxi Dress for Every Occasion

Hey EmalinaFashion fam! It's your girl [shery], and today we're diving into a garment that's the epitome of breezy elegance: the kaftan maxi dress. This timeless piece transcends trends, offering a universally flattering silhouette that's both comfortable and chic. Whether you're lounging poolside, attending a summer wedding, or simply want to add a touch of bohemian flair to your everyday life, the kaftan maxi dress has you covered.

What is a Kaftan Maxi Dress?

Originating in the Middle East and North Africa, the kaftan has a long and rich history. Traditionally, kaftans were loose-fitting robes worn by both men and women. Today, the kaftan maxi dress reinterprets this classic silhouette for the modern woman. Defined by its flowing maxi length and relaxed fit, the kaftan maxi dress typically features wide sleeves and a comfortable v-neckline or round neckline.

Why We Love the Kaftan Maxi Dress

There are countless reasons to fall in love with the kaftan maxi dress. Here are just a few:

Versatility: This dress seamlessly transitions from casual to dressy depending on the occasion. Style it with sandals and a sun hat for a beach getaway, or elevate it with statement earrings and heels for a night out.

Comfort: The loose-fitting silhouette allows for maximum comfort and breathability, making it perfect for hot summer days.

Flattering Fit: The kaftan's relaxed nature flatters all body types. It cinches the waist subtly without being restrictive, creating a beautiful drape that flatters your curves.

Effortless Style: The kaftan maxi dress requires minimal styling effort. Throw it on and you're instantly ready to go. It's a lifesaver on those days when you want to look put-together but don't have the time or energy to fuss.

Endless Design Options: Kaftan maxi dresses come in a vast array of fabrics, prints, and colors. From lightweight linen to luxurious silk, bold florals to sophisticated solids, there's a kaftan maxi dress to suit every taste and style.

How to Style Your Kaftan Maxi Dress

The beauty of the kaftan maxi dress lies in its versatility. The following advice can help you style it for various events:

Beach Chic: Pair your kaftan maxi dress with a floppy hat, statement sunglasses, and flat sandals for a beach-ready look. Add a touch of glam with layered necklaces and a colorful beach bag.

Summer Soiree: Elevate your kaftan maxi dress for a summer evening event by adding a pair of statement earrings, a pair of wedges, and a clutch. A touch of bronzer and a bold lip will complete the look.

Bohemian Bliss: Channel your inner boho goddess by layering a kimono or denim jacket over your kaftan maxi dress. Finish with ankle boots and a stack of bracelets for a carefree vibe.

Everyday Elegance: Dress down your kaftan maxi dress for everyday wear with a pair of sneakers or flats and a simple tote bag. It's a comfortable and stylish option for running errands or meeting friends for lunch.

EmalinaFashion's Kaftan Maxi Dress Collection

At EmalinaFashion, we're obsessed with kaftan maxi dresses! We offer a curated selection of stunning kaftans in a variety of styles, colors, and fabrics. Whether you're looking for a classic white linen kaftan for a beach vacation or a vibrant printed kaftan for a summer wedding, we have the perfect dress for you.

Here are a few of our top picks from the assortment:

The Santorini Sunset Kaftan Maxi Dress: This flowy chiffon dress in a fiery orange hue is perfect for making a statement.

The Bohemian Rhapsody Kaftan Maxi Dress: Embrace your inner free spirit with this colorful floral print kaftan in a lightweight cotton blend.

The Midnight Muse Kaftan Maxi Dress: Turn heads in this luxurious black silk kaftan with delicate lace detailing.

Head over to the EmalinaFashion website to browse our full collection of kaftan maxi dresses and find your perfect match!

Kaftan Maxi Dress Care Tips

To ensure your kaftan maxi dress stays looking its best, follow these care tips:

Read the care label: Always follow the specific care instructions on the garment label.

Delicate fabrics: For delicate fabrics like silk, handwashing or dry cleaning is recommended.

Washing: For machine-washable kaftans, use a gentle cycle with cold water.

Drying: Air drying is always the best option to prevent shrinkage.

Conclusion

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