#soothes the disembodied soul

[corpsegirl-sephie]

Who needs healthy coping mechanisms when you have knives :3

[fuutakaijyama]

IMITADORA! ᝰ JASON TODD . P1

¿quién es esta imitadora hoy en su lugar?

CONTAINS : ANGST, POST BREAK-UP, GETTING WITH THE "ENEMY", COMFORT, EX!DICK GRAYSON, "ENEMY"!JASON TODD. SOOTHING, NON SEXUAL INTIMACY, CUDDLING, NIGHT IN, HURT/COMFORT, FLUFF.

Did it matter? Was it worth all of the effort? Was there any love to begin with? You couldn't answer the question as you cried, looking down at the memory on your camera roll, you and your now ex-boyfriend Richard “Dick” Grayson on your phone with you as your lipstick stained his cheek, looking at each other as he smiled.

Was that real? Was he just doing it to make you happy? You couldn't tell. Feeling the hot tears of shame, grief, anger, confusion, and yearning in your soul.

Not for him, but to feel the way you felt when you were with him.

You didn't want to think about it, groaning in annoyance as you selected pictures from your camera roll, one after one erasing the digital memories that you held, a way to control the grief of your dead relationship.

You’d blocked his number, deleted his contact, got rid of all his social media, given him back all of his things, and moved him out of your apartment. But there was one thing that bit at the back of your mind, slowly eating away at you like some sort of brain eating infestation.

Jason Todd, his brother and the one member of his family he’d mildly forbidden you from interacting with throughout the course of your relationship due to some.. internal affairs.

But you had his number saved in your phone, a call wouldn't hurt. Right?

You hesitated, staring at his contact on your screen in a snowstorm of emotions that threatened to swallow you whole, one after another as the confusion, anger, fear, confusion and conflict washed over you in quick waves.

You pressed the call button and pressed the phone to your ear as you made your way to your couch, sitting with your knees pressed against your chest while your chin rested on your knees.

One ring after another, before the line clicked. “Hello, [Name]?” you could hear his brow raise from the other side of the line, the gruff, deep, and mildly disembodied voice from him hitting you almost like a freight train.

“If this is about you running back to Dick he's happier-” “That's not why I’m calling!-” You cut him off, sitting up straight in annoyance, your back pressed itself into a straight line, jeez.. sucha headache.

You pulled the phone from your ear, pressing the large red button on your screen, the call ending as soon as it started. Back to wallowing in self pity.

“Just-” You groaned, feeling as if any attempt to explain would be futile “Nevermind. I was just calling for some company.”

You both sat on opposite ends of the couch, chips and dip, alcohol and snacks thrown on your coffee table as you chugged a bit of your drink while Jason blabbed about whatever he could think of.

“And that's why he and Kory didn't work out.” He groaned while looking you down on the couch, his deep sunken eyes boring into yours.

“That's stupid.” You muttered, swallowing whatever the hell you had in your mouth while you jerked your head to look at him, shifting around to sit just slightly closer to him. He responded fluidly, both body and voice, his arm wrapping around your shoulders pulling you into his side.

“Yeah, trust me I got a front row seat to it.” He chuckled, calloused and dry hand softly massaging the side of your head and hair. Jason Todd, possibly the softest yet stoic man you've ever met.

You leaned into him, placing your drink on the table and closed your eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body as the alcohol hitting you in all the right places, the dim light of your living room making the moment feel immensely more intimate than you ever did with Dick.

How sweet.

You felt him shift, opening your eyes as you both awkwardly locked onto each other, the strange push and pull with the pseudo-stranger in your home. He patted his thigh, a silent beckoning gesture, a plea for intimacy. You complied, dragging the blanket from the couch right along with you as you settled into him, taking the blanket from you and draping it over your interlinked bodies, his hand finding your bareback and rubbing it up and down, your arms snaking around his neck.

“This is nice..” You mumbled, prompting him to respond with a firm grunt, a smile on his face as you nestled into each other.

“You know.. I know we aren't- significantly close. But I’d like to take you out some time.” He offered quietly, a hint of fluster coloring his voice. “Like dinner.” he elaborated, his hand on your back never stilling as he spoke.

“I’d like that,” You smiled into his collar, your closed eyes shining into the black void behind your eyelids.

“Yeah?- I’ll plan something and text you.”

© 2023 FUUTAKAJIYAMAS. do not copy any of my layouts / writing + translate / repost onto any other sites.

[lost-celestial]

Celebration of the Soul (Overview)

Description: This is a modern collection of festivals for Psyche and Hermes that follows the migration of Monarch butterflies. The timing may change yearly. There are four festivals, one for each stage of migration/season to celebrate and honor our past, present, and future. More information will be posted later.

If Monarchs aren't local to your region, I suggest using the migration of a different butterfly in your area. Otherwise, feel free to use the Equinoxes instead!

Inspired by @starry-polytheism's festival for the Southern Hemisphere and @lavenderwaterfall's festival for the Northern Hemisphere. Dividers by @/k1ssyoursister

Soul's Journey: Spring

🦋 Theme: Looking to the Future 🦋 Timing: Spring Migration, Mid-Mar. to Early Apr. 🦋 Personal Preference: Mar. 31 to Apr. 2

Honoring Ψυχή Ἀνθεία, Psyche, the Friend of Flowers, and Ἑρμης Εριουνης, Hermes, the Luckbringer and Helper.

This is the first generation of a yearlong journey that will span multiple generations of monarchs.

Monarchs are one of the only butterflies that Monarch twice a year. The start of their adventure begins here, usually sometime in mid-March. As the temperature gets warmer, Monarchs will leave their overwintering spots (where they spend the winter) and migrate North. By Spring fully rolls around, the Monarchs have already started their next adventure.

Our first Soul's Journey begins here. This is the time to celebrate the start of a new chapter in our lives and look towards the future. We honor Psyche, the Friend of Flowers, by celebrating the return of the Spring and breathing spirit back into our lives. We honor Hermes, the Luckbringer and Helper, by asking for Hermes' guidance in the next chapter of our lives. He will be our guide through the unknown.

In this soft grassy spot, Psyche lay pleasantly reclining on her bed of dewy turf and, her great disquiet of mind soothed, fell sweetly asleep. Presently, refreshed by rest, she rose with her mind at ease. What she now saw was a park planted with big trees and a spring of crystal-clear water.

Soul's Journey: Summer

☀️ Theme: Enjoying the Present ☀️ Timing: Summer, June to Mid August ☀️ Personal Preference: Jun. 18 to Jun. 20

Honoring Ψυχή ἐρωμένη, Psyche, the Lover of Love and Ἑρμης Δαις Ἑταιρος, Hermes, the Comarde of the Feast.

After Spring comes Summer.

For the next couple of Monarch generations, they’ll dedicate their lives to continuing North and breeding. Monarchs die, are born, and die again; yet, time continues to move. Monarchs are never stagnant and are always flying towards their next goal.

This is the time to celebrate the present moment and find joy in the little things. It’s the time to remember that everyday we are progressing, even if it feels like we aren’t or that we’re regressing. Every day that we’re alive is a day well spent. We’ll honor Psyche, the Lover of Love, by spending time appreciate the people we care about in our lives and spending time offline. We’ll honor Hermes, the Comrade of the Feast, by showing gratitude for the things we have and actually celebrating ourselves and what we are achieving in the moment. It’s a celebration of self.

As far and wide as the house extended, every part of it was likewise of inestimable price. All the walls, which were built of solid blocks of gold, shone with their own brilliance so that the house furnished its own daylight, sun or no sun; [....] As [Psyche] gazed at all this with much pleasure, a disembodied voice came to her: 'Mistress, you need not be amazed at this great wealth. All of it is yours.'

Soul's Journey: Autumn

🍁 Theme: Honoring the Past 🍁 Timing: Autumn/Fall Migration, Late Aug. to Nov. 🍁 Personal Preference: Sept. 16 to Sept. 20

Honoring Ψυχή Πτερόεσσα, Psyche, the Winged One and Ἑρμης Αθανατος Δαικτορος, Hermes, the Immortal Guide.

After several months of the heat, the temperature begins to drop and the plants begin to die.

By this point, three generations of Monarchs have lived and died. Now, it’s time for the Monarchs’ biggest journey: migrating down South once again.

Flying down South will be completed in one generation, throughout the Autumn/Fall months. Monarchs of this generation are significantly different than their great-grandparents, whom started the journey to the North in the spring. These months live significantly longer and won’t reproduce as much until they’ve reached their destination.

In the most literal sense, these Monarchs have transformed into something completely different than their parents, and their parent’s parents. This is the start of the end of a long adventure. We’ll honor Psyche, the Winged One, by reflecting on how we can learn from our past. We’ll honor Hermes, the Immortal Guide, by leaving offerings to our ancestors and asking Chthonic deities for their guidance with change.

NOTE: I recommend you take your time with this part of the celebration. It can be heavy, as much of this part revolves around the departed and the end of something. Really take your time to allow yourself to feel your emotions and process what you're feeling. You want to take your time with this.

Then, indeed, Psyche knew that her last hour had come and, that all disguised was at an end and that she was being openly sent to instant destruction. So much was clear, seeing that she was being made to go on her own two feet to [Hades] and the shades. Without delay, she made for a certain lofty tower, meaning to throw herself off it, for in that way, she thought she could most directly and economically go down to the Underworld. But the tower suddenly broke into speech: 'Why, poor child, do you want to destroy yourself by a death leap? Why needlessly give up at this last ordeal?'

Soul's Journey: Winter

❄️ Theme: Repose (Rest) ❄️ Timing: Winter, December to Early March ❄️ Personal Timing: Dec. 30 to Jan. 3

Honoring Ψυχή, Psyche, Personification of the Soul and Ἑρμης, Hermes, God of Communication, Boundaries and Divine Guide.

After the long migration South again, the generation of super Monarchs will die. Unlike the generations before them, these Monarchs will begin reproducing and laying eggs once Spring rolls around again. Like Autumn, this season is spent mostly traveling South until the temperature warms up again, and they migrate North again to start the next breeding cycle. This generation is truly the most special of all previous generations, and both symbolize the Monarchs' incredible journey and the end of an era. It’s the time to reflect, appreciate, and acknowledge what we’ve done over the course of the seasons. To celebrate, we’ll honor Psyche herself with some much-needed self-care and R&R. Alongside that, we’ll honor Hermes for his help in guiding us every day.

Cups of nectar were served to Zeus by his own cupbearer, the shepherd lad (Ganymede), and to the others by Dionysus; Hephaestus cooked the dinner; the Seasons (Hoare) made everything colorful with roses and other flowers; the Graces (Charities) sprinkled perfumes; the Muses discoursed tuneful music. Then Apollo sang to the lyre, and Aphrodite, fitting her steps to the sweet music, danced in all her beauty. [...] This was Psyche's marriage to Eros, and when her time came, they had a daughter, whom we called Hedone [Pleasure].

[archoniluthradanar]

Eros and Psyche...Demetri and Valerie Volturi

Eros and Psyche (soul or breath)...Demetri x Valerie (strong spirit). A beautiful mortal falls in love with the most miserable, vile creature, Demetri knowing that this shouldn't be, and has to fight for her true love.

A story based on the myth of Eros and Psyche, a mortal married to a monster who came to love her. But her betrayal almost loses her love forever.

From a Greek myth prompt by @the-volturi-diaries

Demetri was a vampire, a very old vampire, one who served as tracker for the Volturi. He was a lone man, who at times would make passionate love with a human female, then feast on her blood. If he mated with a vampire, he would enjoy the moment and leave them with a sweet farewell. Commitment to one person was never in his mind. At times, he wanted a love to call his own, he just didn't know how to make that happen.

One day, after an arduous mission, Demetri decided to go into the country outside the walls of the city of Volterra. He wandered the area, enjoying the feel of the sun on his cold, marble-like skin. While he moved among the trees and flowers, his sharp ears heard the sound of singing, a woman singing. He listened to her self-made music, his eyes closed in relaxation. He had to meet the human who sang so beautifully. When she sensed his presence and turned to face him, Demetri flashed away, not wanting her to see him.

The young woman's name was Valerie. She was considered the most beautiful woman in her village. So beautiful, no man dared propose to her, fearing rejection. This made Valerie very lonely. Her parents despaired she would ever find a husband. They visited a older woman rumoured to hear the words of the gods. She told them to dress their daughter in wedding attire and take her to a meadow outside the city where she would be made a bride to a terrible monster. They did as they were told, weeping all the while that their beautiful daughter would become the wife of a hideous creature.

Demetri had gone to this meadow to get away from his own kind, tired of their presence. He needed peace. Sitting on a large boulder, he heard music approaching and the voices of people. He hid behind the boulder and waited, only to see a group of people encircling a perfect woman dressed in a bridal gown. He instantly wanted her for himself. Running faster than the humans' eyes could follow, he grabbed up the young woman in his arms and flew to his home, a large castle in the center of Volterra. He saw she had fainted, but took her to his large room in the castle. He lay her on his bed and stood hiding behind a bookcase, waiting for her to rouse. He had accidently scratched her when he grabbed her, so wiped the blood from her arm with a wet wash cloth before he could hold himself back no longer.

Valerie woke and scanned the room she found herself in. She remembered the meadow she had been taken to by her family, then strong arms grabbing her, the sensation of flying, then waking here. Had the beast found her and taken her to his home? But this place did not look like the cave of a monster.

A disembodied voice told her to make use of anything in the room, and that he would be there later that night. He urged Valerie not to attempt to see him and to keep the lights off, or he would not visit her.

Later, a woman came into the room with toiletries and a array of clothing for Valerie. She spoke sweetly to the girl to soothe her, telling her to prepare for her husband's arrival. The she left the room.

Valerie chose a blue-green nightgown that she thought would accent her blonde hair, and went into the bathroom to bathe. She used the fragrant hair products to wash her hair, then used the hair dryer to style her long locks.

Once she felt she was as ready as she could be, Valerie turned off all the lights in the room, and waited. Soon, she heard a sound in the darkness and sat up, her hands shaking.

Demetri could see his mate in the darkness while she sat on the bed. She looked as beautiful as the last time he had seen her. He walked over to her, and took her hands in his. He was sad to feel them trembling with fear. He had hoped she was eager to have him with her so he could love her as she deserved. He leaned forward and gave her a chaste kiss. "Please, my love, sit back on the bed. I have been waiting to meet you in the privacy of our own room."

Demetri undressed and sat on the bed next to his bride. He reached out to gather her in his arms, gently so as not to frighten her.

Valerie held her breath, very afraid of this beast she had been made to wed. His embrace was cold, his skin too firm for a normal man. But he held her as the delicate woman she was.

Her scent filled his nostrils, his desire increasing. "Do not fear me, my wife, I will not harm you. I will come to you night after night as long as you obey me, and don't attempt to see me. I am the monster others have told you, but as I love you, I will never harm you." He kissed her mouth with soft touches, and caressed her shoulder, moving aside the strap of her nightgown, then laving her breasts. He heard him inhale sharply. "Shhh, my sweet. I will be gentle for you. Tell me if I am hurting you."

Valerie could not tell her husband that he was setting her body on fire, such was the timidity in her mind. Her hands explored his body in the dark. His arms were slightly muscular, his chest hard. As she moved lower, she found his belly to be flat, but it was when she accidently touched his manhood, that she smiled.

Demetri inhaled, feeling the delight of her fingers touching him. He made note of the smile she expressed when she felt his excitement. He wanted to show her how much he treasured her, wanting her to be happy as his mate.

"Husband, will you be claiming me as yours this night?"

"If it's what you wish. Your desires will be mine."

She slid down the bed a bit, allowing him access to her entire body, one that had never been touched by any man.

Demetri leaned over Valerie, kissing her, his tongue forcing hers to open. His lips then moved along her jawline, to her neck where he sucked on her warm tender flesh, wanting to take her in more than one way. But that would be for later.

Valerie could not keep herself from panting, the name of her husband still unknown to her. She froze when she felt fingers move up her thigh to focus on her damp femininity. She wanted to close her legs tighter but her husband's touched had their desired effect and she willingly opened herself to him. Since he was her husband, she had nothing to hide from him.

Demetri felt her excitement equal to his own, and moved to hover over his bride. "It may hurt for a moment, my heart, but I promise it will be pure pleasure afterward." He settled between her legs and lifted his hips up to move slowly into her, his hard cock penetrating the barrier that confirmed her virginity.

Gasping in pain, Valerie clutched at Demetri's back. She felt him stop, allowing her to get used to him within her. Then he made slow thrusts in and out, until he felt her relax, the pain now turned into enjoyment. Valerie and Demetri shared their pleasure as they made love in the darkness. When her muscles tightened around Demetri, she cried out, her breath harsh. He came inside her when he felt her completion. He buried his face in her neck, the smell of her fulfillment in his nose. His love for her was set in stone now.

While the two lay together, their bodies naked and entwined as one, Demetri whispered to his bride promises of love, wealth and happiness. She would want for nothing, and he would be there to protect her always. But only at night could he be with her like this, showing her his love.

Valerie found out her husband's name was Demetri, and to her, he was no monster. He felt like a man and yet not.

Demetri and Valerie lived in happiness together for many months. She had met others in the castle, his family who seemed similar to her mate, but none were remotely beasts. When he was gone, she would spend time gardening out behind the castle, but she was sad and missing her sisters. She begged Demetri to let her visit them. He didn't want to grant her request, but after she cried on his shoulder, he found he could deny her nothing. He let her go with the warning to not listen to anything they might say about her marriage. "If you're happy with me, pay them no heed and return to me the wife and lover you have been."

She gave him her word and left after Demetri had made the travel arrangements.

Valerie enjoyed her time with her sisters, telling them how happy she was with her husband. They marveled at her fine clothing and the jewels she wore, gifts from Demetri. But they also grew jealous. They whispered in her ear, words to create doubt in her mind. "He is a monster, sister. He will eat you when he tires of you. You should kill him, then all that is his will be yours." Valerie tried to block out their words, but they grew more insistent until she began to believe them.

Returning home, Valerie looked forward to being with her husband once more. But her sisters' words echoed in her ears. She found a letter opener, a candle and matches in Demetri's desk drawer, and hid them next to the bed.

When Demetri joined his mate, he kissed her with enthusiasm, happy to be with her again. They made love was usual, his joy at their reunion expressed in his touches and words. While he was distracted, Valerie lit the candle, grabbed the letter opener ready to stab him, but accidently dripped wax on Demetri's bare thigh. When he turned to face Valerie, she saw his red eyes glowing in the semi-dark, his visage one of enraged fury. She cried out, dropping the candle on the bed. It had gone out, but the damage was done. Valerie saw her husband and he was horribly inhuman. But her remorse and grief told her she was wrong and never should have heeded her sisters' words. She reached out to Demetri who was hurt by her doubt. He quickly dressed and flew from the room.

Valerie slipped on some clothes and went out in search of her husband. She called out to him to no avail, and eventually went to speak with her friend Aro, who was in charge of the castle. "Please help me, Aro. I have offended Demetri and he's left me. I can't find him anywhere."

Aro took her hand and saw what had happened. "There is only one thing that can bring Demetri back to you. You must become an immortal like us. There will be pain beyond anything you have ever felt. But to endure this, it will prove to him how much you love him."

She considered it a moment, then looked up at Aro. "I love him more than my own life. I will become immortal if that will bring him back to me. And I will never doubt him again."

Aro took it upon himself to change Valerie, since Demetri had gone from the castle and no one knew where he was. Valerie lay upon the bed she shared with Demetri, with Aro explaining what he was going to do. Valerie waited, feeling Aro's cool breath on her neck. She gasped when she felt him bite her hard. A fire moved through her and she became aware of nothing but the fire taking control of her body. Aro had Chelsea sit with the human to watch her, then he left the room.

Valerie felt the fire destroying her body and she thrashed in pain, until she could not move anymore. Her heart beat...thump thump thump...until it slowed to complete shut down. Her eyes opened to see a man looking down at her. "Demetri?"

He smiled at her. "Yes, my love, it is I. I'm sorry. I should have been here to do this."

Sitting up, the newborn wife of the tracker Demetri smiled and said, "No, the fault was mine, beloved. I doubted you and your love, and I will never do that again." She rose from the bed to stand before her mate, her red eyes gazing at him. "You are no monster, and you will have my love for all eternity, if you still want me."

In answer, Demetri took her in his arms and held her against him, then he kissed her soundly, the smile on his face lighting his soul.

In her newfound immortality, Valerie found her heart's desire, and the couple would live and love happily forever.

[badgerwrites]

Chapter I

The window was cold on Rowan's cheek as the train snaked its way through the countryside, the soothing rumble of it gentle and coaxing against her closed eyelids.

Dreams and memories mingled in her mind's eye. She caught a glimpse of her guardian's sweet face twist in uneasy concern; an image of her mother's bloodshot eyes; at some point she even heard her therapist's disembodied, hushed voice speaking from beyond a shut door.  Her consciousness recoiled at the jagged, torbid feeling of these brief flashes. It retreated within itself, sinking in a empty but nonetheless comforting nothingness.

The speaker crackled to life. One distorted voice of a train operator announced the name of Rowan's station before fizzling out into the dull roar of the engine. Reluctantly, the young girl opened her eyes.

Sunny, intensely green grassfields ruffled and writhed in the wind like the hair of an immense beast, a few lazy silvery canals zipping past the wagon in a blurry haze. She shielded her eyes from the light. Further out, its majesty encroaching more and more on the horizon, was the sea: it was incomprehensibly vast and blue, playful ribbons of foam danced across its surface, and gleamed like the deepest night sky. I hugged the lush shore in a triumph of cobalt and green and golden light.  Yet when she looked inward, she found that the beauty of it all had left her rather cold; more a hollow intellectual appreciation than a glowing warmth around the edges of her soul. This was expected, but the pang of sadness that knowledge brought her still stung.

The shrill sound of the brakes jolted her out of contemplation. She pawed for her sketchbook and shrugged on her small duffel bag before lumbering off the steps and into the small station where her aunt and uncle were waiting for her.

A big clock placed squarely above her head  informed her that the time was 12.43, a full hour earlier than she was supposed to arrive.  The pretty brick station was empty, as the few other passengers had scuttled away. No middle-aged couple to be seen. Her uncles had not yet come to the station. All the better, she thought.

Mechanically she sharpened a pencil with neat, practiced swipes of her boxcutter, sat down on a bench and folded open her drawing pad. Relieved by the lack of curious or worried passerbies Rowan bent down and begun skimming the lead down the page, losing herself in the familiar, repetitive motions of sketching. Next chapter:

https://www.tumblr.com/badgerwrites/734782556006989825/chapter-2?source=share

[leatafandom]

Vessel switch/fix it 👀 very intrigued!!

Hello hello dear!

This started with an unpublished request for a classic trope for a body swap (yes @misha-misha I have actually started writing something 😂), but it's morphed a little and I'm not sure it's really that much of body swap so much as a vessel fic that rolls between being taken seriously and a crack fic I find too humors to be taken seriously. It takes place sometime after the angels fall where in. I very much have enjoyed flushing out the human Gabe is wearing recently especially when they eventually wiggle their way into the bunker for a safe place to lay low. Here's a really rough snip from the beginning of it.

Gabriel frowned, his arms crossed over a broad chest as he looked over his damaged vessel. His grace flinched as he tilted the head of the human he was wearing. It was jarring to look over the vessel that had become his body, the amber eyes he knew from the mirror were pale, wide, and empty as he inspected the body.

Dude, that was you? Your body is fucked. No wonder you sounded so desperate.

The voice of Tobias, the man that had agreed to house him, rang with awe at the sight of the archangel's previous bloody and scorched vessel.

"Yeah, not pretty."

Your friends did this to you?

"Yup, well. I may have screwed them over but," the archangel grumbled, bending down to inspect the wounds that had nearly trapped his grace.

After fooling his brothers and the Winchesters, he had been happy to spend the apocalypse hiding in the deep corners of Heaven and various pocket dimensions, but a quiet exile hadn't suited him for long. Gabriel sighed, it had been stupid to reach out to the pagans, even with the years in between them trying to kill him and now, but he couldn't help himself. He groaned, plump lips twisting as he pulled up the burned shirt.

"I'm an idiot." He rubbed his jaw, a deep frown edged into his temporary vessel's face.

Dude, who wouldn't want to trust their friends? The soul tried to soothe.

Tobias had always been religious and when the swirling ball of light invaded his dreams, frantic and sorrowful, 'yes' had been the only answer in his mind.

The grad student was more than happy to find that the archangel who his body was made for wasn't what he had expected. The archangel was far more human than he had ever imagined angels to be. His mind roved over the grace he could feel, hot and somber surrounding every inch of him. The archangel released a noncommittal hum at the posed question, unsure if he really had had friends over the past few centuries.

"Thanks for bailing me out kid."

Of course. My Ma would kill me if she ever found out I denied Gabriel the Archangel a safe place to regroup. The soul of his newest true vessel rang within him, as the archangel laughed. The rumbling sound of his laugh was different under the control of the celestial but the feeling of amusement from the cosmic being lessened the feeling of his disembodiment. That shit looked terrifying archangel or not. But, hey, you got away. Tobias thought over the shared memories of Gabriel's newest almost death.

"Always have an exit strategy, Toby," Gabriel grumbled absentmindedly with a humorless laugh.

The archangel shifted closer to his old vessel's arms, snapping long callous tipped fingers and ridding the corpse of its clothing to inspect it. He released a whine at the numerous slices and wounds covering it. Gabriel would rather not think about what would have happened if he hadn't bailed when Baby Prince of Hell's goons showed up at Loki's hidey-hole. He had been lucky, not crafty.

He shifted, placing Tobias' long-time arms over their shared thighs as he squatted beside his lifeless vessel. Dark brown eyes roamed the vessel he had crafted for him thousands of years ago and had always been his home. The soul sighed within the space Gabriel had left him in.

Hey, at least you're taller now! He tried to lightening the mood and was happy when he got a chuckle out of the youngest archangel. What are you gonna do? I mean you seem cool and all but…I got plans.

Gabriel chuckled before he sighed, placing their shared tanned hand on his cheek. "As handsome as you are my hero. I like my body better." He looked over his old home, his grace twisting in longing. "I need old magic."

Thank you again for the ask, it's always a pleasure <3

[meguwumibear]

trigun writing warm up; tw religion, thoughts of death

You are lying motionless on the cold metal ground of what used to be a space ship, back flat against the floor, becoming one with it. One with the metal. One with the ground. It leeches the warmth from you, bleeds you of it. The floor takes and it takes and it takes. Presses harshly into your spine. The pain is a comfort.

A disembodied voice here, there, here, here, here. Somewhere in the room. Somewhere to your right. Or is it to your left? No, that's not right. The strange voice is all around you. It's the only thing you feel besides the coldness of the floor. The fluidity of the voice. How it rises then falls. Full of passion. Full of life.

A preacher at a pulpit. There's no other way to describe Nai when he gets like this. He becomes something otherworldly. Transforms into something familiar yet so unrecognizable. You know priests and their gold crosses that glitter golden in the sun. You know their rosery beads and confession booths and pews and bibles and communions. Body of Christ. Willingly given. Oh holy eucharist. Oh blessed communion. Wretched rights. Sacred sacraments. Holy be. Holy be.

Nai is not religious but draws inspiration from the big book. The holy book. The blessed book. You think he's read all of it, but he seems to favor the opening lines of Genesis. B'reishit. In the beginning. The Lord created the heavens and the earth. The light and the dark. He made us, then made us again.

The air around you smells like sulfur, brimstone. It smells salty like the sea. An ocean of water. Not one of sand. Try as you might, you cannot picture this; you cannot picture a vast blue body of water brimming with fish and coral and life. Each time you try the image slips from you. Go. Going. Gone.

You're aware again of how cold the floor beneath you is. It should be a comfort in these hot summer months. It should sooth you. Like a balm. Instead it reminds you of absence. Of death and of nothingness. You eyes close and you see it now. The darkness. The darkness that awaits us all.

Only, that's not right. The body cools but the soul blazes. Descends to one of the nine hells. Blisters and boils and burns and burns and burns and burns and burns and burns.

"I hate when you get like this."

He hates you all the time. It matters not what you're wearing, what you're doing or saying, if you've been an obedient little human or a wicked, wicked witch. He hates and he hates and he hates, hates, hates. And that is not a sin. Pride? Yes. Sloth? Certainly? But not hate. Never hate.

"I wish you'd kill me."

You mean it and you don't. You'll die either way. You're dying now. Of hunger. Of thirst. Of boredom most of all. You aren't interested in Nai's Eden. Like the water filled ocean, it's a picture that never fully forms. You can chase it if you'd like, but it would only slip further and further away. As distant from you as the stars.

More noise. More talking. Preaching. Christ he needs a therapist. Needs a friend. Needs his brother. His brother Vash. Who ran from him. Who saw Nai for the monster he truly is and ran and ran and ran so hard and so fast they call him the humanoid typhoon. He touches down in this town, then the next, kicking up dust and dirt and lots and lots of fucking sand.

"Not interested in my Eden?" he asks.

And, no, you're not interested in anything, actually. You're not interested in anything at all.

[cherrywade]

DUDE. okay you’re so real for that. i’ve been listening to djo for like….. months now and i have a playlist of the decide album with some songs from twenty twenty on it. let me just say, this playlist has actually saved my life recently. it’s the best playlist ever for overstimulation or when i just need to calm the fuck down. don’t get me started on how insane some of the lyricism of some songs make me. i could ramble about djo almost as much as hozier i think. music is so goddamn incredible. i’m so joyed fo hear you like djo <3 do you have a fav song so far??

and thank you, that means a lot, love. i’m trying my best. i don’t really know what’s causing everything to feel so bad so suddenly. i hope it all passes soon. thank you for being sweet 🫶 how have you been recently? hopefully well?

-🦇

BRO! okay so i went through and tried to pic my faves and just ended up making a list of like... all of the fucking songs hahahahahha! I have a playlist of both albums and the few singles. And it's literally so calming to listen too. Like... his voice is so soothing. But then he has the funky beats as well. And i just... music is so special to me. Like, to the point where i get possessive. And not like... in a weird way about the artist or anything. Just like... i don't wanna share it with people. I want to like.. keep it to myself so i can just FEEL it and love it. And idk. Im not good at articulating my relationship with music because it's very deep and like intwined with every little part of my soul and i dont know how to untangle it all to like... study the connections. But i love music. And i definitely waited til the perfect time to listen to him. Im very much into the belief that there are certain times your, or at least me, that im like "supposed" to listen to certain music. And listening to that feeling hasn't ever steered me wrong. (I've only listened to a handful of Hozier for that reason actually. It's not time yet. But it will be one day.) Idk. I have very deep feelings about music i guess. Idk. I love a lot of the songs. Most of them. All for different reasons. And I'm really glad i finally listened to it.

And oh no! Im sorry for the random disembodied stressfulness!!! I hope it ebbs soon and fucks off and you can relax! I've not been too bad! Just chillin and workin. And i made some chicken teriyaki that was pretty bomb so that was yummy! Haha! 💛💙💛

[elysiumxii]

Already Hypnos was feeling less tense once Helios was starting to fall into the comfort of sleep, making it that much easier to carry the blonde into the elevator and then toward the unoccupied room. Hypnos' hotel was known for the best beds in the country, if not the world, guaranteeing the best sleep for all guests. It was the perfect spot for Helios to finally rest undisturbed. Unfortunately the fellow god did not care much for letting said boyfriend know that Helios would take a break for a while as instead he soon laid the blonde down onto the comfortable mattress, wrapped him up in the duvet and rested his palm to the other's eyes provide the deepest phase of sleep in an instance. "You better bring back the sunshine when you're done resting, I'm getting serious winter depression because of you, idiot."

As soon as he sinks into the soft bedding, Helios lets out a soft hum of delight and turns his face into the pillow, eyes having long since fallen closed and now unlikely to open. Natural slumber took him first; but this is soon replaced by Hypnos’ deep, soothing slumber that whisks him away to a world of warm dreams with swirling colours and soothing sun rays. Most importantly no worries, of disembodied souls or Sei’s difficult dance steps to disturb him. Just soothing, deep sleep. The only thing he does miss is the familiar weight and warmth of Sei’s body beside him, that usually he would struggle to sleep without.

His phone lays just by the hand that had let go of it, on the bed. Sei’s text messages opened and read, but unfortunately not replied to.

In the end he’s asleep for so long, his unlocked phone actually dies…

[andessence]

Contact — the places where they meet don't buzz with the awareness of a foreign other's touch, but they calm a hungry, unnatural absence. When Beatrice's skin brushes Edmund's, it soothes the strain of their split into two bodies. The strain is necessary, Edmund has to remind himself every time Bee's hand on him makes him sigh out relief. They need to be reminded they aren't the same being, aren't one consciousness, even with souls so irretrievably bound to one another. The vessel he animates for Bee is the right tool for that job, maintaining their sanity, even if the distance it puts between them is maddening in its own way. Both of them feel that pull, one to the other: come together, closer, closer. They feel it, and they acquiesce in casual, comfortable ways. Edmund, however, faces a unique challenge in their circumstances...

He shouldn't have given the Voice such a hot vessel. That was the first mistake. Well, no, the first mistake was allowing his feelings for the disembodied spirit of magic and entropy to slip into something wholly too human. The second mistake was the hot vessel. Because fantasizing about a thing you can't ever have and that has no human sense of self to transgress on is free and hurts no one. But fantasizing about the creature that is belatedly developing that sense of self and now has a body you can accidentally cross lines with.... and one that is also your patron.... Now that can get complicated real fast.

He'd felt so hopelessly, embarrassingly sure that he'd be the one to fuck it up and step across that line. Nothing could shock him more, then, on a lazy evening slipping into night, alertness slipping into slumber, but to feel Bee's weight shifted on his chest, hair brushed from his face, and its lips meeting his. He starts fully awake, swept up in a tumult of contradictory feelings; the soothed ache of that 'closer', the thrill of want where none is suspected, the panic of the fractured certainty that Beatrice doesn't have those desires. A startled little noise turns to a hum of confused approval in his throat. His voice comes a little shakier than he hoped it would. "Hey, uh—? Hey, no, what are you doing?"

starter for @andessence / edmund

the voice desires very little and knows only to obey those desires. this melding of souls tugs between their separate bodies in a way it is familiar with; it is the only suffering it has ever experienced, to be drawn. it touches edmund and holds onto parts of him because it feels better than not. it does not ask before doing so and neither does it think anything of the small acts of intimacy.

it practices rest, now. lanky, thin limbs are draped over its other half, and it does not sleep but remains stagnant inside the vessel ( beatrice ). it listens idly to the pattern of edmund’s breathing and feels the rise and fall beneath its forearm. it wants to become closer.

it lifts its head, then through a tangle of hair blinks brown hues and studies edmund’s face. it decides to brush away wisps of black hair before long fingers tilt edmund’s jaw ( it cannot reach the mouth until it does so ) then leans forward and presses its lips to his. this is how one human tells another that it cares for them. while it is closer to human and edmund farther away than either should ever have been, the language will carry over. especially when their souls desire so intensely for touch.  

[jarofstyles]

Beauty and the Beast- Lycoris

A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE :)))) We know it’s been a while since we updated our series, but we can assure you more BIG updates will be happening soon! For now, here is the first post of the 2022. We’re really proud of this one :) - n + d

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masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, talk of blood, degradation, mention of death and mental and physical illness, horror, angst 👀

word count: 13k

[part 1] [part 2]* [part 3]

Lycoris- These Asian summer flowers are laden with cultural significance, believed to guide disembodied souls to reincarnation. They also go by the name “red spider lily” due to their multiple spindly, red petals.

The conversation weighed heavily on Harry’s mind for weeks. 

He truly couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was impossible. There was no way that she could be his beloved, because his was no longer of this earth. Still, that didn’t mean he didn’t notice the telltale feelings he got around her. How sometimes he matched certain expressions of hers to his beloved in the past and the mannerisms matched along with little saying or brushes of skin… 

Harry was terrified. 

The vampire had to be going insane. Had to be losing it. Ever since he had truly begun to think, he hasn’t had a moment of peace since. He needed to have some, and yet he couldn’t. Mind swirling with thoughts that spider webbed to each other and how things that should be so blatantly clear were not. How could it be? 

He had been slightly avoiding her as he came to terms with what may be his ill fate. It happened to some of the vampires who lost their beloved. 

They lost their minds. 

Originally he had believed to escape it due to lack of time together, the bond, despite how strong it felt, being weaker in terms of time. Alas, he was beginning to believe it was finally coming to get him, the fate he had naively thought to have avoided. 

It started with mood swings. Check. And then, delusion. Check. 

He wished for his beloved back, so he projected her on to Y/N. His poor, sweet and unknowing human. It wasn’t fair to her. He was a fraud. A scam of a man. He didn’t deserve to touch her smooth skin or let his lips grace the curve of her neck, let alone drink the sweetest blood he had ever tasted on his tongue. 

So he didn’t. Instead, he slunk away into the one room she wasn’t allowed in for most of his time. His… tribute, so to speak. Where he had painted portraits and leather bound journals filled with their stories and his feelings towards her. His sweet little rose, who he aches for daily. 

For some reason, being in the room didn’t soothe the ache the way he wished it had. Instead, he felt the incredible, powerful pull to be wherever Y/N was. Sitting at her feet to watch her read or plaiting her hair so he could simply be touching her. Feel her energy. 

That couldn’t be, though. He deserved to live in this pain, not falsely lead her on… though he didn’t think that his romantic interest was false. He did have feelings for her… but in that, he had begun to project traits that weren’t hers. 

All of these things were symbols that he was close to death. The way vampires can die, anyways. Only through this madness. 

He hadn’t eaten in 2 weeks, and he knew he looked rough. Sitting in his office once again, he had the curtains closed and some simple black coffee to try and soothe the rumbling pain in his stomach. Harry knew well enough that nothing could soothe the burn in his throat, so he didn’t even try. If he was going to die… he wanted to do so weak. So he couldn’t act out and hurt sweet Y/N.

The soft knock on the door was unnecessary, Harry having heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching just minutes before her hand hit the wood. Of course, Y/N was ever so polite— and on edge. 

It was understandable. Who wouldn’t be on edge living with a starving vampire? And though their relationship had surely improved, it seemed as though their closeness had revealed even more problems then they had before. 

She’d noticed his change in behavior rather quickly, Harry had never been particularly good at hiding his worry and stresses during their morning walks around the grounds or when they met again in the evenings. At times it felt that she was the stresser. 

Y/N cracked open the door after hearing a croaky ‘come in’ from the other side of it, her face displaying a look of genuine concern. 

“Harry… you need to feed.” She spoke in a hushed tone, not bothering to greet him. He was already aware of antsy behaviors, always too scared to push him too far in case he did lash out— he never would.

“I— I don’t know if it’s something I did or said or if you simply have lost interest, but I’m worried about your health.” Y/N knew she sounded pathetic practically begging, but what else was she supposed to do? She couldn’t let him starve when she was the reason for his livelihood. If you could even call it that. 

“Please just… tell me what you need. I can get Niall or Ida to call for someone else— I just sit here and watch you wither away for much longer, Harry. You must understand.”

He hadn’t realized that his behavior was also making her feel as if he lost interest. If anything, he was trying to do that but utterly failing. Still… he didn’t want her to feel as if she wasn’t desired. 

“You mistake my actions.” His voice was raspy and his throat sore. It was partially why he hadn’t been speaking to her— it hurts. “It isn’t to do with losing interest. You haven’t done a thing to warrant that.” He reassured. Y/N didn’t deserve to be feeling unwanted, when it really is the opposite. She didn’t deserve his woes. 

“It’s that… I fear I am unwell. I do not wish to feed.” He said quietly, crossing his arms. The silk black shirt clung to his body, the hair on his chest tickling his bare forearms from where it was unbuttoned. He had been dressing simply because he did not have the energy. “It is not safe for me to do so. I fear I will take too much from you.” 

Harry feared for her. He would never be able to live with himself if he injured such a beautiful soul. She deserved the best of the best… and as of now, Harry could not provide that.

“You need to feed, Harry. It wasn’t a suggestion.” She pressed, taking steps towards his desk before taking a seat on one of the chairs like she did the day she met him. “Regardless of if I’m mistaking your actions or not, you—“ Y/N let out a sigh in response to his poignant stare. 

“I’m worried.” She stated plainly, hands on her thighs. “A few weeks ago we had that chat and I really thought we were on the same page again and now it’s as though we’ve taken steps back farther than we were to begin with I just— I don’t know what’s going on.” She didn’t want to make him feel any worse than he already did, but it was a bit unfair of him to keep her in the dark when he was clearly deteriorating. 

Y/N stood up again and approached him slowly, allowing for him to tell her to step back if need be. He looked so dull, so distraught— something was bothering him deeply and she wished she could take it away. She feared it was something she couldn’t assist with… she felt helpless. 

“Tell me what you need…“ She trailed off, setting her hand on his thigh while squatting down beside his chair.

He winced as he felt her warmth on his thigh. Sitting close. Too close. Too close to him for comfort, because he wanted to surge forward and collect her warmth into his figure, hug her and let her melt into his skin. 

The human smelled unlike any he had witnessed but a familiar note he couldn’t 100% place. The sickness told him it was of his beloved but that simply wasn’t… possible. Still, it didn’t lessen the pain of his throat climbing up to his gums, teeth throbbing at the draft wafting her scent closer to him. 

So fucking sweet.

His mouth salivated more than it had in weeks, his hands gripping the end of his desk so hard that it began to crack. Self control was something the vampire prided himself in… but at this current moment, he wasn’t able to keep his head straight, though trying. 

He needed a lot of things. Sanity, blood, love. He needed to work on the garden himself for his beautiful roses and see the koi in his pond. He needed to leave the house and get fresh air and watch the night sky. 

But right now, all he wanted was her blood. 

“I need to control myself.” He growled lowly. “You are tempting me, Y/N. I will hurt you, and if I do that I will never forgive myself. You haven’t done a thing wrong. It is a problem with me.” 

He wanted her so close and to push her far away so she was out of his line of sight, out of reach so he couldn’t tarnish something so pure. 

He was visibly ill. The dark veins under his eyes, his pale skin almost looking ashen. His hair had gotten dull and his green eyes had faded to a grey green, weak for a vampire’s standard. The worry she felt was able to be felt… and he hated that he had dragged someone else into his deterioration.

Swallowing thickly she stepped back, rising back to her feet to give him some space. She didn’t want to overstep, but something had to give. Y/N refused to let him die just because of his pride. 

“So you do wish to feed— you’re just… making yourself ill? for what?” Y/N was confused, “to protect me… from yourself?” She was piecing things together but she still felt like there was so much she didn’t know. “Harry, I know what I got myself into— I understand the risks involved, how are they any different to when this started?” She tried to catch his eyes, but he wouldn’t even look in her direction.

“I am… Ill.” He swallowed, wincing at the burning coating his throat. “I am not doing well. And if I try to feed… I am worried I will take too much.” He tried to calm himself but the lingering scent of her had already infiltrated his senses. 

“You volunteered your blood for a safe and easy trade. I provided for you, and you gave me blood. But it has gotten far more complicated than that, and you know it.” He gave her a look. 

It wasn’t her fault. But he felt cornered and nervous because so much of these feelings had burrowed up and he had been able to avoid them somewhat, but she was right in front of him now. 

“I can not and will not allow you to do things that put you into danger. I get too… rough. I hold too tight. And if I take too much, I will never never forgive myself. You are a radiant, beautiful woman. So pure and kind.. you mean much more to me than you realize.” He coughed, rolling his head as he tried to keep himself from reaching out towards her again. 

“When I am… this way, I do not trust myself with a treasure like you on my lap. You’ve given so much to me already.”

“You’ll die, Harry! Do you not understand?!” Y/N barely let him finish his sentence. She couldn’t help but whimper at the thought of him ceasing to exist. His words hit her harder than she expected, taking a second to bite back any tears that threatened to make their escape.

“This is not the time to be poetic or heroic— a large part of this arrangement was to make sure you stayed in good health.” She pointed out, “and I could never forgive myself if I watched you wither away without helping you. So let me.” Y/N demanded his attention, her tone far more serious than it had ever been with him before. 

“How can you sit there so calmly and just now tell me you’re essentially dying after weeks of…” She tilted her head back and swallowed thickly trying to calm herself down. “You don’t want to get better? Is that what it is?”

“I’m dying anyway!” He snarled, standing up, slamming his hands on the desk as he looked at her finally. Letting her see the pale grey of his eyes, surely looking fearful. 

“I’m already dying. And you can’t… you can’t ask me to harm you to fix something that’s already broken.” His chest heaved as he took her in, feeling his stomach drop as he saw the fear on her face. 

“Damn it all! Now I’ve shown you… I am a terrible being.” He clenched his fists, but the hands off the desk made him sway slightly and he had to catch himself before falling.

The weakness was getting to him. It was hurting him and her and he felt like a terrible being now more than ever because he had been the cause of the fear in her eyes. She never had experienced his loud voice, especially not directed at her. 

“Don’t you see, Y/N? I am not worth endangering.” He swallowed again, his own eyes glazing over. “There is no future for me. I thought… I had escaped a fate. I have not. Time was kind to me, but after… after what has happened in my lifetime, it is clear that this may be the end for me. I am going mad. Imagining things. I can’t keep a clear head. All signs of the wasting heart illness.”

Like a deer in headlights Y/N stood and watched as he leaned against his desk, using his last bits of energy to communicate with her. The pain ran deep throughout her, her heart clenching both at the sight and at his confession. He was under the impression he was a lost cause. That he wasn’t worth saving. That he had lived long enough. 

But even he who considered himself to be a monster had the kindest heart she had ever known, far too gentle and attentive to even be considered evil in her eyes. Even with his outburst, the look of fear in her eyes didn’t stem from the fear of him, but it stemmed from the fear that he was too far gone. 

It hurt too much to think about what this wasting heart illness implied. To be hit with the harsh reality that she couldn’t be the one to show him what true love was… that she wouldn’t be the one to save him. It was so silly. She had been so silly to entertain that thought. 

“Are you asking me to let you go?” She asked in a whisper and almost immediately wished she could push the words back in her mouth. Y/N didn’t want to hear the answer. She’d stay to the bitter end whether he wanted her to or not. 

“I won’t sit here and beg you to choose life if you’ve already accepted your fate. I could only hope that you do…” Y/N trailed off and ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “It all turned so quickly… you didn’t tell me anything, I could have helped!” She squeaked, swallowing thickly once again. 

And as if it was one final attempt at restoring his belief she walked up to him, cupped his cheeks and forced him to look her in the eyes. 

“Please, don’t make me beg.”

He stiffened. Her body was close. Her hands on her cheeks. Her beautiful eyes gazing into his, the complete heat it shot through his body could make him moan. 

It was a relief. Feeling better touch after weeks. Not through fabric but skin to skin, his knees weakening and falling into the chair as he watched her face turn to concern. He wasn’t sure why she wouldn’t just let him go. Why she cared so much. 

“It’s much more complicated than you could imagine.” He whispered, feeling her step between his thighs. Stroking back his hair and tilting his head up, making him shudder. It felt *so* fucking good. The gentle affections, the warmth, her body in between his legs. 

“I… cant continue to go mad. It’s starting… I’m terrified.”

Y/N watched him with careful eyes, watching for any signs of discomfort or defensive responses. “You need to understand I’m only asking because I need to know, if there is another option or something you aren’t telling me… please…” She let out in a whimper. 

“Do you really think that if you feed from me right now you will not be able to stop?” Y/N knew this wasn’t like some movie or book, that she honestly had to believe and not push him when it came to his very real and life threatening limits. But then again, it was true that he underestimated her often. 

“If not… I can ask Ida to help me make some blood bags for you, some nutrients… something … I want to help.”

His eyes flashed. 

“No.” He snarled. “No one else can touch your blood. It’s mine.”  

It was sudden, quick change of pace. He didn’t like the idea of someone else touching her at all, let alone for blood purposes. His hands gripped her waist and tugged her into his lap, grunting as he felt the territorial urge fill his chest. 

“I want it.” He whined, sinking into a softer stage the moment her hands went back to his hair. “Want… want to drink from you. But I am scared.” He knew he had impeccable self control. But the fear was much larger than anything he had known. 

“I… I think I can. But I fear for the notion that I can not. I am territorial over you. Your blood. No one can rip me off.” He squeezed her hips lightly, her warm body relaxing him further. It was the most at ease he had been in weeks. 

He was feeling even more insane now. Because… what is this? Why did a human relax him so? It was already proven that the sickness could cause delusions but this didn’t feel artificial.

Her heart was beating quicker now, but she wasn’t scared. The rush she felt was one she only ever felt with him, and though it may be the chemicals talking, Y/N was confident that Harry was someone she had grown to genuinely love. Maybe not in the traditional sense but nothing about their relationship was traditional. 

“I need you to try...” Y/N spoke softly, brushing the hair away from his face and behind his ears with both her hands. With her thumbs pressed gently against the edges of his jaw, she leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. She waited a beat before moving to kiss his nose and then rested her forehead against his. 

“I can’t lose you.” She admitted in a hushed whisper, lips brushing against his only for a brief moment.

“You deserve better than me.” He wanted so badly to kiss her, to hold her in his arms and protect her from the dangers of the world. Maybe she wasn’t his beloved but she had already given him a new lease on life, that he had gone and fucked up. 

Why now? Why did the sickness have to catch him now, out of all the times? When she had been placed into his life, curing his miserable emotions. Giving him excitement and childlike giddiness. 

He nearly purred, eyes closing as he let her touch and caress him further. Her sweet lips brushed over his and caused his mind to perk up just a bit. 

“I will… try.” He resigned. How could he refuse this woman anything her gorgeous heart desires? Even if he did start to go even more insane, he could lock himself up.  He could be safe. Work on more self control. 

“In the drawer… middle. There is an iron blade. If I do not let go… reach for it. Swipe it on my bare skin. If need be, stab me.” He said lowly, eyes opening to look at her, more serious than he had ever been. 

“I want you to promise me you will. I will attempt… for you. But I need your assurance that you will keep yourself safe. It is all I ask.”

She almost couldn’t believe that she had gotten him to agree, blinking rapidly as she listened to his instructions. 

“Blade… in the drawer, middle…” She repeated to herself, swallowing thickly before reaching for it. She placed it on top of the desk where she could easily reach it from where they were sitting, realizing that this could be very traumatic for the both of them. 

But he needed this. He needed this if there was any hope of him getting better. 

“I promise.”

A shaky breath was taken, Harry’s face nuzzling into her neck. It smelled so good, and her touch was so welcoming. 

This was the feeling of home. It was so beautiful and it let him relax, just a little bit. His teeth throbbed but he took a moment to embrace it, puckering his lips against the tender skin. 

The thundering pulse could be felt under his lips, making him hum. Her body sagged into his, his kisses trailing down to his favorite spot. It was clean of his mark at all, and that irritated him. He loved to see his proof there, and he knew he would love seeing it remain there after this time. 

“M’sorry…” he whispered, licking over the spot to prepare it. “I know I worry you. I don’t mean to. You… have brought me joy.” His tongue brushed it again, hand caressing her hip while the other brushed her hair to the side. 

“I’ll only take the normal amount. Thank you for caring.” He wasn’t sure if this would be his last feedings but he was eager. Wanting her body to relax and her hands to grasp him as she used to. 

His teeth bared, slowly sinking into the skin. Ever so gently, taking his time to close his mouth over it before he began to drink from her.

No matter how prepared Y/N thought she was for a bite, it always ended the same. She didn’t even have time to answer him before her eyes glossed over. Her mouth fell open, lips in a permanent pout, hands gripping at his arms for dear life. 

It felt incredible. 

She for a moment let herself get lost in the euphoria, allowed herself to truly feel the very real intimacy that had formed between them. 

Y/N wasn’t even sure if it was possible, but it felt gentle. Maybe it was due to his weakness, but she felt like he was being as careful as possible with her despite him drinking from her eagerly. 

Her stomach twisted in a familiar way, a moan escaping her lips as one of her hands traveled up to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“There you go…” She breathed in delight.

He was doing his best to relax and drink slowly, because he knew how easy it was for him to overdo it. She was a delicate creature, despite taking each feeding and handling it like a champion.

He grunted against her, hand tightening on her hip as the blood dripped down his throat, and making him feel better by the second. The coating soothed the ache that had burned his throat for days, the relief good enough to make him want to moan too. 

Instead, he held her still as he drank, ignoring how it aroused him because he was just thankful he felt even a little bit of control. He had truly expected to start losing it, but it was easier to focus as each beat of her heart sent another rush of blood into his system. 

His strength was returning. It wouldn’t be at the full level but it was enough that he felt happy with it, purring against her throat as he felt her start to sag more into his chest. The sign he had to finish. 

He slowly pulled back despite the urge not to. He could sit and nurse on her skin for hours, and if he knew it wouldn’t hurt her, he could continue the whole night. Take sips. Lick. Kiss. 

Instead, he focused on lapping up every drop of blood that had leaked on her skin, moaning as her fingers held on his hair. It was no secret it also brought her pleasure— he could smell it. 

“Good. Good, good, good.”  He slurred. “Tastes so good. Thank you, angel. Such a beautiful little petal.” He kissed all over her throat, wet and messy. He tangled his hand in the hair at the back of her neck and tugged her head back, giving himself more access. 

“Lovely, lovely little Y/N. So sweet to the taste. All the ways. You take care of me…” he stroked his fingers under her shirt with the hand holding her hips, taking a moment to bite down again. He didn’t suck— no. He simply bit a new spot. Licking it clean, hearing her gasp and smelling her arousal dampening her panties. 

“Mine. M’sorry.” He said lazily after licking the beads of blood from the new bite, finding another spot. “M’sorry. I didn’t… want to upset you. You think… I lose interest.” He growled against the wet skin. “The opposite.” He bit down again, harder this time and felt her chest heave against his.

Her breath hitched at the sharpness of each bite, immediately relaxing into the tingly feeling of warmth that followed suit. She felt like she was swimming in emotions, so many that they were all blending into one pastel haze of joy. 

“You’re so good… did so well for me…” Y/N praised with a breath. Though she had known he would be able to control himself, a dopey smile appeared on her face because she was just so proud. Surely that was one of the most difficult things he’s had to endure and yet… he managed.

—-------------------------------------------------

It was rare that Y/N woke up before Harry. He always liked to remind her that vampires didn’t really need to sleep if they were in good health. It was a common occurrence for her to wake up to his gentle caresses and a look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. 

Until now. 

The sun’s rays scattered across her bedroom as they hit the stained glass of her windows and created a halo around Harry’s sleeping form. She had never seen him so calm and relaxed before— so at peace. 

Her hand dared to reach up and touch the smooth skin of his cheek, admiring how well that bit of blood had already nourished him. He needed this rest, poor thing had been struggling for weeks all because he was too scared to tell her he was ill. 

He said he was dying. 

The movements of her hand suddenly stopped as she was reminded of the fact. Y/N couldn’t explain how she had managed to feel so strongly for Harry in such a short amount of time, but the idea of losing him struck fear into her. She had just found him— just started feeling like she was finally living life instead of simply existing. It was Harry who was helping her fall back in love with life.  

Seeing the joy and curiosity in his eyes whenever she showed him a meme her friend sent her or whenever she told stories about her days at work. Even things like having bad breath in the morning or having cravings for different foods. Things that were her normal, things she had always taken for granted. 

Her humanity. 

Y/N’s hands moved to gently stroke his hair, taking this time to etch every detail of his face into her mind. She wanted to remember him like this forever if his time did come. Y/N refused to believe that this could be over before it even began. 

Y/N was ripped away from her thoughts when she heard a click and turn of the door knob, turning over to see none other than Ida standing in the doorway.

“Hello, dear.” She spoke, coming into the room with a tray. She was quiet as she set it down on the desk next to the door. She didn’t enter too far, because it was obvious to her that the couple needed their alone time. 

She had wondered how long harrys would go about this sting. Being self righteous in a sense, not even attempting to talk to Y/N. He was an old stubborn man, but she knew he had a kind and gentle heart. She envied that. 

“I brought some essentials. Coffee and creamers, some breakfast for you and some pastry for him. A guilty pleasure.” She smiled kindly, looking fondly at Y/N’s hand rested on his pale face. 

“I also wanted to thank you. He was getting insufferable.” Ida was sweet but direct. Harry was dramatic at times, and blond to what was in front of him. He *had* been on the right track but… alas, he was still a man. Regardless the species, they were slow at times. 

“I know what he’s said. He warned me that he was dying. He isn’t. At least, I don’t think so.” She murmured, keeping quiet. “I think he is confused. Please… you are the only one he will listen to. Keep the sense in him. He will do anything for you. Just keep doing as you are… cling to him a bit.” She poured a cup of coffee for her, adding her cream and sugar as she always requested. 

“He hasn’t known affection in years. Show him what he will miss if he gives up.” She winked, knowing that the both of them were ticking time bombs of love and passion only new soul mates could have. The door closed behind her, leaving Y/N with her thoughts.

A warmth filled Y/N’s cheeks at what Ida was suggesting, but she knew she was right. Y/N had all the power to make him reevaluate his plans, see that he still had so much life to live as long as Y/N was in it. She must have gotten through to him last night, enough to where he willingly drank from her after growling at her for ‘tempting’ him. 

The coffee smelled wonderful and Y/N felt her stomach rumble at the, cursing herself because she really didn’t want to wake him when he was resting so sweetly beside her. To add to it, she felt like her bladder was going to explode. Even if she wanted to get up she couldn’t, his arms were firmly secure around her waist. 

Y/N began to press kisses to the crown of his head, humming lightly just so she could wake him enough to have him let go of her for even a few moments.

“Mm.” A groggy hum left his throat as he entered the weird space between dream and reality. 

Harry had thought he was imagining the kisses, but the smell of his human filled his senses and he let a tiny smile quirk up his lip. The softness, the warmth, his hands finding their way back under her shirt and splaying out on her bare back as he tugged her closer… all of it felt like a dream come true. 

Kisses to wake up to. After the hellish last few weeks, he needed that. A soft purring nose erupted from his chest as he held her body, foiling her plans of getting up. 

She stopped to giggle, but he shook his head. “More.” 

He was unusually cuddly and soft, but he supposed that was going to happen when the person you think you are falling in love with saves you from almost dying of blood thirst. Allowing him to touch and hold. Sleeping in the bed. He relished in this.

Y/N continued on with pressing kisses to his head upon his request, caressing his head as he shifted to rest his head against her chest. How could she deny him when he was so soft and clingy? He’d never been this way before, she almost felt like he wasn’t even properly awake. 

She wanted nothing more than for him to continue sleeping like this, comfortable and warm in her hold. So she stayed like that for as long as she could, until she truly felt like she was going to burst. 

“Harry darling….” Y/N whispered, “I promise I’ll be right back and we can continue this… but you have to let me go.” She cooed lovingly. She really tried to sweeten the deal the best she could. It really broke her to ruin such a sweet moment like this.

“No…” he grumbled, hiding his face in her neck. He didn’t want to break this moment. He was sleepy, comfortable and warm. Oh, so fucking warm.  

He let out a grumble as he felt her squirm and realized she did have to get up. He wasn’t unreasonable, no. But he was selfish in this moment, huffing as he loosened his grip. The warmth he could lay in forever was perfection to him and he wanted more and more and more. 

“You have got 3 minutes. I will get cold.” He kissed her hinge of her jaw, pulling back with sleepy eyes as he watched her get up and go quickly to the bathroom. Scurrying as if she knew he was serious about being cold. 

He never in his life felt more comfortable than that moment. The haze of hunger was lifted and instead, the hunger for affection had risen. He wanted kisses and touches he had been denying himself of for so long. He wanted her to smother him in it. Clinginess was foreign to him but she hadn’t seemed to mind, per say. 

“Petal.” He croaked out. “Hurry, please. The bed is cold.”

“I’m coming!~~” She sing songed, finishing up her business in the bathroom as quickly as possible before rushing back. She even made sure to grab the tray of food to place on the bedside table so she wouldn’t have to get up again. 

“I’m sorry, I know, I know…” She spoke in a hushed tone as she heard him grumble again, allowing him to once again engulf her in a warm cuddle without disturbing his sleepiness. Y/N knew he hadn’t been able to sleep properly because of how hungry he’d been so she wanted him to be able to fall back asleep with ease. It was second nature to her to nurture him, fully relaxing knowing he was comfortable and at ease with her. She avoided making conversation, allowing him the time to fall back asleep if he so pleased. 

Was he milking it a little?

Yeah. Absolutely. 

Did he care? No. 

He pulled her back into his body, feeling refreshed. Back to normal. His face was buried in her neck, inhaling her smell as he pulled the blankets up over their bodies and let himself take the warmth in again. Relaxing and allowing himself the pleasure of her hands back on him. 

The vampire  felt a mixture of emotions. Sadness, happiness, relief, stress, arousal. All of them conflicting and yet, making more sense than one could imagine. 

He slept for a while longer, this time holding himself to her neck and chest. The next time he woke, he let out a deep sigh. “You smell delightful. All the time.” His rough voice rasped, tugging on the hem of her shirt and inhaling her scent. It was important to him, blanketing him in it and soothing him fully. 

“I feel good. Touching you. Talking to you. I’m sorry.” He gave a kiss to the middle of her throat. “So, so sorry, sweetheart. I was a fool for believing I could stay away from you, even if I believed it to be for your own good.” He frowned, pulling his face up. One hand slipped from her shirt and came up to cup her cheek. 

“You are far too good for me. I do not know how I’ve managed to have you care for me the way you do, but I am eternally grateful.” He leaned into her, kissing the plush cheek. “I can not begin to apologize enough for worrying you… or making you feel unwanted.”

Y/N’s face was adorned with a look of endearment, her eyes pleading and lip jutting out in a soft pout. 

“I’ll admit, you were being stubborn and selfish… but I understand why.” She let out a sigh, “I just… I wish you would believe me when I tell you how I feel about you… Like I know that you do believe me, but you don’t value yourself the way I value you.” Y/N explained, maintaining eye contact with him despite how much it made her stomach feel like it was being attacked by butterflies. 

“I don’t know who or what put the thought in your head that you aren’t worth ever bit of fight I have in me, but I’ll keep reminding you.”

He pursed his lips but nodded. It was a mystery to him, how she could ever be so… so enamored with him. But he would take it. If she wanted to say it, he wouldn’t dispute it. 

“Thank you.” 

His lips began to kiss all over her face. Her cheeks, her nose, making her smile rise back to her face. He kissed her eyebrows and forehead, her ear, even. Just smothering her back with the affection he truly felt.

“I’ll remind you as well. I will try and be better.” He rubbed his nose against hers. “But please tell me you’ve eaten something while I slept. You need to rebuild your strength. I fed last night…” he rubbed his thumb over the girl’s bottom lip, examining her features. She looked good, not too sickly.

“Well… I was asleep while you were and I only woke up a little bit before you.” Y/N hummed, pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb, “but Ida brought us some breakfast. Would you like some pastry? I think it’s a croissant but I’m not sure if it has filling or not, I forgot to ask.”  

Y/N shifted a little, pulling him to sit up with her before she brought  the tray to sit in their laps. She figured he didn’t want to have it between them and frankly, neither did she. 

By this point her coffee was cold, but she liked it better this way. Y/N began digging into the bowl of fruit, humming at how fresh they tasted. You’d think after living there for as long as she has she’d get used to the quality and taste of the food Ida made. She’d always said Harry was a man of fine taste. 

“What do you want to do today?” She asked curiously, “I think it would be fair to say you more feeling better?” Y/N giggled before pressing a kiss to his cheek once again. “Also… if you need to feed again later, please don’t be shy in asking. You need all that is safe for you to take so you can be back in good health.”

“Mm. I am. But I would like to rest… with your company, if that is alright with you.” 

It wasn’t that he didn’t think she would want to, but he didn’t want to take up her time *or* make her feel as though she had to. He would make due without her… probably. 

“I may need to feed again. Just a tiny bit.” His eyes went to her throat, a happy feeling bubbling in his chest. He raised his fingers to trace the marks he left, licking his lip as he remembered how good it had felt to do that. 

“I hope you can forgive my possessive behavior. I… fear it won’t dissipate.” He admitted. Honesty was the best policy, right? 

“It will continue to grow. I’m a possible being in general, but when it comes to you… you’ve seen how I feel” he smirked just a tiny bit as he felt her shiver from his touch. 

He watched her take a bite of a strawberry, the juice dripping by accident down her chin. Watching her eyes widened and reach for a napkin, he simply stopped her hand. 

“Shh. I’ve got it.” 

In his more daring behavior while not feeding, he lifted her chin and let his tongue gently lick up the trail of sticky sweet fruit juice. Ending it at her bottom lip, which he brushed gently with his tongue before pulling back. 

This intimacy seemed to be a new second nature to him. He was surprised but also not. In a lot of good ways.

Y/N was also surprised, her eyes stayed wide even after he pulled away. She could handle the cuddles and tender affections, but it was clear she was feeling a bit flustered when it came to touches that were more bold. When she was a little more subbed out, things like this didn’t make her as shy, but bright and early in the morning? She felt the heat crawl up from his stomach to her face rather quickly. 

“I-uh…” She sputtered, completely losing her train of thought and instead eating a piece of fruit to distract herself. She swore she had a whole sentence ready, a question even. It was clear that she was adjusting to this new level of intimacy that had only really been present during their feedings.

He found that he liked making her distracted. Taking a piece of fruit to himself, he took a bite and smirked at her face, seeing the blinks of surprise. He had been holding back on the affections and the true wants of his body. He shouldn’t. She should be able to see the want he has for her. 

It didn’t matter that he was hard right now, either. He wouldn’t push that hard unless he got the signal. Which he was trying to coax out. 

“The fruit is good.” He chewed the strawberry. Leaning in slightly, he did test her ability to fluster though. “Tastes better on your skin, but this will do.”

“M’glad you like it.” Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in through her nose. Though she knew he’d pick up on the fact that she was easily flustered, she reminded herself that he needed to rest and not over exert himself by tending to her desires. What she really wanted was him. All of him. But he hadn’t given that to her yet. 

It has been weeks since they’d properly touched, so she was also feeling rather touch starved and thankful that he was being as affectionate as he was. It did make her feel good and desired. She could tell he was in the mood too just by the way he toned his voice down. 

So she tried to change the subject. 

“How’s the pastry?” She asked, knowing it was a lame question and knowing he would see right through it. But she was making a real effort here!

He grinned at her attempt to change the subject. He would let it go… for now.  

“It’s good, darling.” He chuckled, shaking his head. It was fun. This game. Usually she was the one making him blush, and now it was his turn to. He was feeling much better and it was showing.

When the breakfast was finished, he let her tend to him by helping him to the shower. It was quick, but he needed to do so. Washing off the negative emotions and feelings, he let a soft hum of a song be given as he walked out into the room in his towel. 

Was it planned to make her think about his body? Yeah. Yeah it was.  And he was going to play innocent as he walked to the closet, turning around and dropping the towel as he pulled the sweats on his body. 

Sweatpants were his favorite garment of modern clothing for sheer comfort. 

He had given her a good view of his backside and his bare, damp back, leaving himself shirtless as he returned to the bed.

It’s true that while Harry was in the shower Y/N was having a mental battle trying to pull herself together. Thoughts from last night came flooding back in her mind as she caught a glimpse at her neck in the mirror. Last night she had allowed herself to lean into that feeling of true submissive bliss for all but 10 minutes before pulling herself back out. It wasn’t the right time for anything else and she let it go. 

Seeing him all freshly clean and bare before her though, blurred the line for her as far as resting went. She started to think maybe it would be good for him to relieve some tension, get his muscles to relax even more, he'd surely sleep like a baby afterwards. She didn’t see the harm. She was needy, she’d waited long enough, it didn’t need to be special.

Y/N bit her lip and shifted a bit to face him as he joined her in bed once again. 

“Feel better?”

“Mhm.” He agreed, tilting his head as he observed her. Though this time, he was assessing her levels. He wanted some more blood. 

“It felt nice to get clean. But I’m wondering if I could get another bite in? If you’re feeling up to it?” Now he was nearly naked, his bare torso shown to her. 

She was staring. Bingo

“I just need a little more. I took less than needed last night because I was worried but I am capable of control now.” He promised, stroking her arm.

“Yeah…” She was already nodding, “I mean— Yes, of course.” Y/N snapped herself out of her staring to look at him with a shy smile. It was almost funny how easy she was to read. She had this naivety to her despite being a very intelligent and wise woman. 

It was one of the many reasons Harry liked her so much. 

“I-I uh… I would have showered, but I remember you said you liked how I smelled this morning so…” She trailed off, suddenly getting a flashback to the time they were in the car after work and he was so infatuated with how she smelled that he bit her in public.

“Yes. I love how you smell.” He reassured her. In every day. But he loved how she smelled when he fed from her especially. 

She always got aroused and soft and pliant and he loved how she would give him her soft voice and eyes after he finished.

“Why don’t you come on my lap? Straddle, please.” He turned to sit over the edge of the bed, anticipation flooding his nerves. He wanted her to get to that state. Where she was more relaxed and easier to talk to, to show her true desires.

Y/N moved quickly, obedient as ever— she even tripped up a little bit while moving on the bed. Sexy.  

She did however feel comfortable once in his lap, despite his hungry stare making her stomach do backflips. He had always made her feel comfortable when it came to feeding, it was actually the one thing they probably felt the most comfortable doing, as insane as that might sound to others. 

“Which—“ She trailed off, blinking up at him with innocent eyes as she pointed to both sides of her neck. They were both conveyed in marks at this point so it really didn’t matter all that much.

“This.” His hand tilted her head to the desired side. There was an unspoken tension in the room that had him buzzing, smoothing her hair away from the side of her neck.

“Remember… do as you please, beautiful girl. Whatever feels good to you. It’s a shorter bite.” He murmured, well aware that she was horny. He could smell it, feel it drifting from her body. The moment she shifted forward, she would feel his cock and know the feeling was mutual. 

His tongue prepped the area, licking up the side of her neck and finding a nice spot. Kissing over it a few times and gently squeezing her hip as a warning before letting himself bite.

“Mmh” She couldn’t help but whimper the moment she felt his teeth break into her skin. She was aware that she could get away with just about anything, even before the bite. Though she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t a massive help when it came to feeling looser and freer to act upon impulses. 

It was better than being drunk or high… It felt unreal. 

Rocking her hips forward on instinct she let out a happy moan at the feeling of hard cock, repeating her actions in hopes of getting some relief. Unfortunately, she had on far too many layers of clothing for her liking and she became huffy with each and every rock of her hips for the lack of friction and skin to skin contact.

He moaned at both the taste of her blood and the feeling of friction on his cock. 

He was horny. 

There were major differences between last night's feeding and this one. Last night was far more soft and intimate in terms of heightened emotions and gentleness. But now that he had recovered from that weakness, a cloud lifted in the ‘should he, shouldn’t he’ mindset, he was allowing himself to enjoy it. 

To be pleasured. 

He held her hips and pulled her closer as he drank, growling happily as his teeth sank deeper and the warmth of her cunt could be felt through the layers. She was huffing, but Harry dipped his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, digging the fingertips in as he pressed her down harder.

“Fuck, Harry!” She gasped, one of her hands gripping at his shoulder to stabilize herself while the other tugged at the roots of his hair. She couldn’t really resist the urge of rocking against his fingers, her whines only getting louder and more prominent as pain and pleasure blurred together. 

This was exactly what they needed. A spark to get the flame going once again— although she had a feeling that once they started they wouldn’t be able to stop. For a while. 

“I want you… I want your cock— please,” Y/N whimpered, ''I've waited for so long, I feel so empty!” She squeezed around his fingers.

It had been so long since they'd touched in any way, but it was a long time coming. He needed this. She needed this.

At the end of the day, he was going to take advantage of the time he had if he truly was losing it. Having her, in whatever way she offered him? He would take it. 

He pulled off of her, keeping his fingers on her cunt as he messily licked up her neck. 

“S’that what you want?” He questioned. “You really want my cock?” 

It was no shock that she was wet. Soaking his fingers as he found her clit, rubbing it in circles as he took in the feeling. So hot and slick against his skin, the scent of her filling the room. Her blood, her cunt, he was dying for it. 

“Where do you want it, angel? I’ll give you anything.”

“Inside me, please!” Y/N pleaded, feeling breathless even though they’d barely done anything. Poor thing was desperate to finally feel close to him in a way she never had before. 

“I missed you… so much” She continued, accompanied by a few hisses at how sensitive her clit was after weeks of no action. Though she usually had a high sex drive, she’d spent the last few weeks far too worried to even think about it. 

“Want you to make me feel good, I wanna make you feel good, I wanna make it all better, wanna show you how I feel.”

He chuckled, flipping them so she was pinned underneath him. Looming over her, he gave her a dirty grin with his shiny teeth. 

“I missed you too, my beautiful flower.” He began to lower himself down on her, pecking her lips. “I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you cock, kisses… anything you need. Just be good for me, my darling.” He crooned, releasing her wrists and gently tugging at the bottom of her shirt. 

“Let me see your breasts. I’ve waited long enough to see them. I want to heal… heal using your body. I’ve been celibate far too long… and I think I’ve been patient, waited my turn.” He wanted to see her whole body. But her breasts were something that taunted him daily.

Y/N was quick to lift her arms up, assisting him in taking her shirt off because she too wanted him to see. She was far gone, her true instincts taking over now that he had properly fed. 

Her body shuddered under his stare. She didn’t want to rush him despite the fact that she was incredibly desperate to be touched and loved up on. Instead she just watched him with a pout, hoping that he would have mercy on her. 

Incredibly impatient she was.

“Look at you… my beautiful darling.” He cooed, looking at her bare chest. Perfect for his taste. Stunning. He cupped each one in his hands, thumbing the nipples as he watched her face fill with pleasure. 

“Feels good, hm? Finally getting my hands on you… I’ve been waiting just as long. Been so patient…” he smoothed his hands down to her shorts, tugging them down swiftly. Exposing her bare bottom half. 

“Fuck, no panties either. You filthy thing. Came to me without them on, too.” He whispered. “You want me just as badly as I want you.” 

His lips connected to hers, kissing her firmly before trailing down her chest and over the swells of her breasts. ���I’ll mark these one day. When we aren’t as needy… I’ll bite and mark them with my teeth so every time you look at them, you remember who has them. Who touches them.”

Pink lips wrapped around the erect nipple, hooded eyes looking up at her. Suckling on the thing, rolling it with his tongue. Moaning against her breast as he pulled back, leaving it wet. 

“I want to wreck you.”

I want to wreck you

The words echoed in her head. If there was any part of her still there she was gone now, entirely under his spell of submission. She was preening, back arching up with every kiss and suck his mouth provided her. The sounds were filthy, but she liked them that way. 

Y/N felt like she was dreaming, as if she couldn’t believe that he was actually above her, finally giving her what she had been dreaming of. Ever since the first time he fed, she’d thought about how incredible it would be to have him take control of her and have her feel truly at his will. 

He held her life in his hands. 

“Please sir, I’ll be good! I promise, please— Please wreck me.”

He switched to her other breast, humming in agreement against it. She would be a good girl for him. 

“Of course you will. Always my best girl, aren’t you, angel?” He stood, letting his sweatpants fall down and revealed his cock to her. Thick, hard and long, the tip red and weeping with precum. 

Years of sexual frustration in the making. 

“How do you want it, baby?” He spit into his hand, beginning to stroke himself. The groan of relief echoed in the room as he prepared himself for the sweet little cunt. “How do you want it? Want to lay there? Hands and knees? How do you want me to wreck you, darling?”

Her mouth was moving but not many sounds were coming out as she looked at him standing before her. She was in awe of him, truly, but also she was too far gone and thinking about all the ways in which he could fuck her into the next century. 

Part of her felt really sentimental, wanting to look him in the eyes as he fucked the light right out of them. Another part of her wanted him to shove her head in the pillow while he plowed into her from behind.

“Your favorite way.” She responded, “whatever you want, however you want me.” She knew they’d have time to do it every way possible soon enough. Y/N just wanted to please him.

His favorite way would be any way he could happen to get her, if he was being truthful. If it was with her, he was going to want it. 

But for the first time, he felt it was only right to take her while looking at her pretty face. See how gorgeous she looks when he pushes into her, how she feels each time his cock pressed into her. 

“So, so beautiful my girl. Gorgeous. I can’t believe you’ve managed to make such a mess of me.” He really didn’t know how he had gotten to the point of no return but the little human had a solid grip on him, one so solid he felt like he couldn’t unstick it even if he tried. 

“Why don’t we try a few, hm?” He stroked his hand over his cock, nudging her legs open. “You’re so wet.. I think we can give your pretty cunt the fuck it deserves.” 

Harry pursed his lips, spitting right on her slit and watching it drip down before rubbing the tip of his cock over the slickness. It made his eyes darken, the feeling of wet, hot cunt touching him building anticipation. 

“Always smell so good… get so wet for me when you let me feed off of you. Makes me crazy.” He pressed the head in a bit, spreading the mess over her clit and dipping down to her entrance, transfixed on how erotic the sight was. “You’re filthy. My dirty girl, yeah?” He spread her legs further to get a good view. 

“Tell me you want my cock. Where you want it.”

Y/N felt as though she was pinned under his stare, unable to look away. Not that she wanted to, seeing him take on what she felt was his true form was enthralling. Her mouth fell open to respond, but instead she was met with his cock gliding teasingly over her. It seemed that he was just as impatient as she was. She whined as he moved away again, clearly teasing her. 

“Please sir, give me your cock— please, I need it inside me! It feels so good, I wanna be full of you forever and ever, I want you to fill me up every hour, don’t want to spend a minute not feeling full of you—” She was babbling, sure, but she was loopy and thirsty for cock. “I’m yours— take me, fuck me, ruin me! please, sir, I need you.”

That was what he needed to thrust inside of her. Pushing inside, watching her eyes widen and mouth open up in a silent moan as the girth of his cock began to stretch her open. 

Despite how wet her cunt was, she still struggled slightly to take it. He wasn’t small by any means, and her pussy was tight. Squeezing him, making him clench his jaw tight as he groaned loudly. Sinking in deeper and deeper, his eyes going back and forth from her face to the perfect hole swallowing up his cock. 

“Yes… that’s it.” He rasped. “That’s what I’ve wanted.” Harry had been dreaming of this for ages and now he was finally getting it. Her cunt wrapped firmly around him. “How is that, pretty girl?” He leaned down, arms holding her legs apart. “Does it feel good to take my cock? I know… it’s stretching you out. Making you feel it… you’re so fucking tight.” He swallowed, pulling out slightly only to push back in with a grunt.

“H-Harry…” Y/N let out a pathetic whine, struggling to keep her eyes open from the insane amount of pain and pleasure she was feeling. It was as if every fiber in her being was asking for him to bite her again. 

“So good…” She shuttered, clenching around him as he continued to pump in and out of her with steady thrusts. “Harder— please..” her voice got caught in her throat as he snapped his hips at her request. 

Y/N allowed her eyes to flutter open once again, meeting his eyes as a way of communicating how truly incredible she felt in that moment. She leaned up to kiss him, her hand flying up to grab a fist full of his hair.

Harry gave in, giving her his mouth as he began his thrusts. Kissing her deeper than he had before, moaning into her mouth as his cock sank into her. Over and over, he gave it to her. Giving his cock to her generously. Of course it wasn’t a selfless deed, because he was probably on cloud nine at the moment too. 

To finally be buried inside of her cunt, to be giving her the fucking she and he had both been desperately craving… it was a relief. He had been dreaming of this day, and wasn’t sure if it would ever arrive. 

“You feel so good.” He praised against her mouth. “So fucking good wrapped around my cock. Where you belong.” 

She was positive that his words would be what took her over the edge. It was as if the two of them were the only people in the world, an air of true tranquility and pleasure surrounding them. Y/N wished they could stay in their bubble forever. 

Breathing heavily against his mouth she trailed off to press sloppy open mouthed kisses down his jaw and neck— lapping, sucking and biting his most sensitive spots. Y/N wanted him to feel just how good he was making her feel. 

“I’m so close, Harry— please let me cum, cum with me, please…” She begged as she felt her cunt throb around him. With every thrust she squeezed his cock, hoping to milk the orgasm from him.

Her teeth sinking into his neck, although blunt, sent him spiraling. He was hungry for her but in a way that didn’t require her blood. 

No, It was for her body. Her whimpers, moans, her orgasms. He wanted multiple of them. He wanted all of her pleasure to be his, and vice versa. 

“Fuck… cum for me, precious girl. But I want more than one.” He urged, moving his hips harder. She would get his orgasm, she would get it all over the walls of her cunt. But he had plans for her. 

“Cum for me, my girl. Let go while m’inside of you, cum all over my cock.” He purred, smoothing her hair back as he increased the depth of his thrusts. The slick noise of their wet sex filling the room, his grunts and moans, her perfect cunt clenching hard around him… it was heavenly.

Her legs began to shake as the tightness in her core snapped into a crashing wave of ecstasy. Her orgasm practically ripped through her as he continued to thrust into her at the same quick but strong pace that had gotten her to this point. 

It seemed that she was unable to make noise, too overwhelmed to even breathe it seemed. Y/N wasn’t sure what it was like fucking a vampire, but now that she knew, she was positive no one else could make her feel this good. 

The effects of the bite would have normally fizzled after this amount of time, but it seemed that the orgasm had reignited the reaction. Her mind fuzzy, only thoughts of Harry. 

Harry, Harry, Harry

She didn’t realize she was actually whimpering out loud.

The chanting of his name only added to his pleasure, and him losing it. Holding tightly to on her hips, he began to fuck into her harder. Deeper. 

Her orgasms were incredible. The way her face dropped and pure pleasure washed over it, her startled gasp, he’d hands holding tightly to his forearm as he gave her the proper fuck she needed… this was perfect. 

The clenching on his cock felt like heaven. He was truly heaven sent from his woman’s cunt. Heat rushing through his body, he was teetering on edges of pleasure he hasn’t been in ages. 

“Soak me.. that’s my girl, cum on my fucking cock.” He snarled, loving how his name fell from her lips. Over and over, letting him know he was the creator of her pleasure.

As soon as he was able though, he pulled out. Smirking at the whimper of loss from the girl under him, he flipped her over quickly. On her knees, she scrambled to get herself up but he didn’t wait. Slamming his cock back into the welcome, warm hole, his fingers curled around her hip as he began to fuck into her again.

“I want another of those.” He crooned. “I want… your cunt cumming ‘round my cock while you writhe in my bedsheets.” He gently pushed her head down, making her lay with her hips up. 

“Lay there. Such a princess… lay there and take it. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

And she did. 

Y/N barely had a chance to catch her breath. It seemed like her eyes could only focus on the pristine burgundy sheets as a series of moans and heaving breaths came from deep within her. 

If it wasn’t for Harry’s voice reminding her that he was indeed still there and behind her, she felt as though she would truly float away into this blissful feeling. 

“Feels so good, sir I—” She squeaked, as he thrusted back into her quite quickly. Y/N had lost count of the orgasms he had given her, she was surprised she could still take more. “Please— don’t stop! Please, please, please.”

He wrapped her hair around fist, tugging her up as he fucked her. 

Hard, solid thrusts inside of her squelching cunt, feeling it quiver around his thick length. Over and over, taking her roughly and steadily like he had been craving. 

“Fuck, you’re so good around me. Feels so fucking good.” He spit down to where they were connected, smearing it all over her ass. His balls smacking her cunt, using her as she begged him to do. 

“Don’t ever want to stop… using you like this. You are… perfect.”  He spoke through gritted teeth. Her cunt was swollen and wet, hot and drippy all over him. Balls soaked, and he couldn’t stop. 

“Tell me you love my cock.” He pulled her body up by her hair once again, one hand collaring her throat as he fucked her hard. Going a bit crazy. “Tell me… I’m the best sex. The best fuck. That I own this pussy.”

“You’re the best — FUCK!” She growled, the warmth of his hand on her throat making her purr. “I love your cock, harry… it’s so good, you’re so fucking— oh my god!” 

Her head fell back against his shoulder, hands gripping at his thighs as she tried to keep herself stable. The pace was deliciously fast, her legs again starting to shake as another orgasm began to build. 

“I love your cock, I love you.”

He growled deep in his throat, letting go of her hair and turning her face so he could kiss her. It was messy, sloppy. A wet passionate kiss that he couldn’t get enough of, grunting into her mouth as he realized what she said. 

“Love me? You love me, you beautiful girl.” He grinned wickedly. “Again. Tell me again.” He squeezed her throat again, breathing in her pants. 

“Tell me you love me… you want me… tell me you’ll never leave me. You perfect girl.” He snarled, eyes flashing as he kept his pace. His cock throbbed as he felt himself get close… but he needed this.

“I love you so much, it hurts.” She tried so hard to keep her eyes open, watching the way his flashed with passion and something she’d never seen before. It was like a fire lit up in her stomach, her cunt squeezing around him again just begging to cum. 

“I-I’m not gonna leave.” She moved to press their lips together again, desperate for more of the taste and the feeling. Y/N would let him swallow her whole if that was possible. She felt like she was about to burst. 

“Please make me cum, Sir. Please, please, I wanna cum for you, I’m so fucking ready— please.”

He grunted loudly, burying his face into her neck as he felt his own orgasm approaching. Colors flashing over his closed eyelids as he breathed her in. His pace was steady, feeling her clench and spasm around his length as he worked himself hard into her, over and over again. She loved him. He loved her so much it hurt too, and she would know that. 

“I love you more than air.” He panted against her skin. “Love you… fuck, I love everything….” He bit down as he came, hard. Not able to stop himself from reaching his own orgasm. 

He moaned loudly against her as he felt her blood breach his tongue, his cock burying deep with each hump he gave her as his load released into her cunt. Painting the walls of her, the sticky cum filling her up as he rubbed her clit. 

The pleasure was indescribable to him. He had the woman he loved in his arms. Buried as deep as possible inside of her, her blood coating his taste buds for a quick sip. Forming a bond he hasn’t even realized he did until he felt the peace wash over him.

It all happened so fast, Y/N had sworn she blacked out. The only thing reminding her that she was alive and present in the moment was the slickness she felt running down her thighs. She fell back against him, far too caught up in the chemical high her human body had not been prepared for. 

Breathing was all she could do. Deep, big breaths. 

She meant what she said. She did love Harry. Very much so. She hadn’t meant to say it then, but it seemed like she couldn’t keep it from him any longer. She thought she was losing him, thought he had given up and expected to have her live on without him as if he wasn’t the greatest love of her life. 

How he could ever think she didn’t feel the same was beyond her, but she felt thankful to be here with him right now, breathing the same thick, sex filled air. 

Y/N opened her eyes again to find him, mumbling something incoherent in hopes he’d understand.

Harry felt drunk. The closest to drunk he had felt in hundreds of years, mumbling soft coos and praises to his fucked our lover.

Love.

They were in love. 

He didn’t say it out of desperation. She had said it first, yes. Bur he had felt it for ages now. Since their first feeding, the seedlings had taken root and grown into a love even he couldn’t fully understand… but it was there. 

“Shhh… I know.” He whispered, letting her lay down as he pulled out. With gentle precision, he moved her to lay on her back as he hovered over her. Stroking her sweaty hair from her face, kissing her swollen lips to soothe the drunken feeling she must also be feeling from the bite. “My girl… my love.” He nudged his nose with hers. “Relax. It is alright.” He murmured. Puckering his lips for tiny kisses, he held her face.

With a tiny nod and whisper of agreement, Y/N continued to take deep breaths. Every so often she would open her eyes to gaze up at him, inevitably pursing her lips as if to as for another small kiss. She giggled every time, feeling him smile against her lips. 

They were love sick, kissing as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. Their teeth even crashed together a few times due to all the smiling. It felt great. She truly never wanted this feeling to end and with as loopy as she was, she felt like it was forever. 

“I love you.” She whispered to him once again.

“I love you too, my darling.” He smiled, kissing her once more. 

And he did. He loved her more than he ever imagined possible. It was terrifying, exhilarating, wild. He wasn’t sure what this was going to come to, but he did know he would be doing the best he could to keep her. 

“Lay down. Rest. Let me clean you, my love.” He whispered, nudging his nose against hers and pressing one last kiss to her swollen lips. 

He wanted to give her all the love she had been missing the past few weeks. All day. And he did. 

For hours, going back and forth between cuddles and kisses, watching her sleep while she napped. Letting his mind wander. Keeping her closer than he ever had and knowing he would never let her go willingly. 

His sweet human. His love. She had become much more important to him than he ever anticipated.

—————————————

The following morning Y/N woke up to the feeling of a large hand rubbing up and down her back, feeling warmth similar to a Crystal pressed against her front. 

“Sweet girl…” Harry rasped, “I’ve got something I have to do, will you be alright here for a few hours?” He pressed kisses to her hairline. 

Still very much sleepy, Y/N agreed, not really questioning him. She was sure whatever he had to do was important otherwise he wouldn’t just leave her. 

“I’ll be back soon. Be good.” Harry hummed and pressed a kiss to her lips before climbing out of the sweet oasis they’d made in their bed. He watched as Y/N snuggled back into her pillow, smiling softly to himself. 

He hoped he would be able to find some answers today. 

——————————-

Y/N jolted awake about an hour after Harry left, catching her breath as if she had just run a marathon. 

She had another dream. 

At first it wasn’t something she thought she should worry about. This woman would appear every so often and she didn’t seem like she had any ill intent— but she began showing up all the time. In dreams and out of dreams. Not as a ghost, but just… when she looked in the mirror for too long. 

There was something familiar about her. At times when Y/N looked in the mirror and saw herself she thought it was the woman. Maybe she was paranoid, but it felt like she was apart of her in a weird way. 

A knock on the door startled Y/N out of her thought. It was Ida who had come to bring her breakfast. 

“Good Morning Sweet Pea… Harry called saying he won’t be home till after lunch, so it’s just you and I for the morning.” She smiled, walking over to the bed where Y/N was to place the tray in her lap. She noticed Y/N was a bit shaken up, “Did you have another dream?” 

Y/N thanked her and nodded as an answer to her question. She’d let Ida know about the strange woman in her dreams a few months back. Ida simply nodded, clearing her throat and deciding not to press on. 

Y/N she looked down at the tray and went straight for the strawberries again. Strawberries fixed everything. 

“Did he tell you what he’s doing?” She asked Ida curiously, wondering if she had the answer. The older woman seemed to have a knowing look on her face, but shook her head no. 

“I’m afraid not my dear… but I will say, take the day to explore.” She put simply, giving Y/N a pointed look. 

Explore.

Now, there weren’t many places in the mansion Y/N wasn’t allowed. Harry let her roam wherever she pleased— except for one room. 

It wasn’t that she wasn’t allowed inside, he never explicitly said that, but it seemed it was a place he liked to go alone… a place he would always lead her away from. 

So after breakfast, Y/N decided she’d finally figure out what was in there. She felt like it would answer a lot of her questions. 

Still in her pajamas, Y/N padded down the hallway carefully. She didn’t have to be sneaky, but for some reason she felt a chill shoot up her spine as she reached the door. 

Taking a deep breath, Y/N opened turned the handle and flicked on the light. What she saw made her blood run cold. 

Paintings— hundreds it seemed, all of the woman Y/N had seen in her dreams. 

At first she didn’t know what to think, swallowing thickly she tried to connect the dots though she had very few to work with. 

Harry knew her? Ida knew of her? 

Y/N carefully walked around the room with her hand covering her gaping mouth, paying close attention to the detail of these paintings. She looked like her. Not entirely, no… just her lips and— her eyes. They looked nearly identical. 

As she neared the corner of the room she noticed there was a mirror there. She would have laughed at the irony if she wasn’t shaking in fear. 

Of course she looked into it, stupid girl. 

All she saw was the woman.

---------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: creepy isnt it? hehe we are so excited for this next one - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[dailyadventureprompts]

The Empyreal Tombs sound like the perfect place for a blue shadow dragon to make a lair, because every dungeon needs more dragons. It is the name of the game.

Monster Hunt: Thesh, the Enmity Exhumed

w̴̖̻͒̀h̵͚̙̽e̵̝̒r̷̬̉̓e̴̫̔ ̶̟͖͋̀â̶̢̭͋r̴͇͝e̵̿͜ ̷̫͊ý̷͈̩o̶̩̽̾ṻ̵̡,̶͓́͘ ̵̺̀͝t̵̀̈́͜ì̴̞̙͘n̴͙̜͒y̷̟͋ ̶̌ͅh̸̬̘́e̶͙̋̂ͅr̸̰͑͜o̴̞͘̚ ̵̧͌͌?̷̝͚̂ ̴̫̆ͅ

Setup: Hovering along ruined corridors in a tangle of yellowed bones and frayed wrappings, the ghost of a once mighty dragon stalks through the dark, looking to avenge itself on the ancient champion who ended his life and embalmed him as an eternal offering to their patron deity.

Once little more than a mere rampaging beast, centuries of resentment and theological captivity have transformed Thesh's soul into a powerful and desperate thing, hellbent on revenge and capable of invoking supernatural powers that eluded him in life, flinging curses like other dragons spit fire.

Released by the party's inadvertent blundering about an ancient tomb, Thesh will resume his rampage across the countryside, convinced that his centuries of imprisonment were nothing more than a bad dream and that he is still a flesh and blood dragon. As with more traditional spirits, the comforts of a mortal life will do little to soothe Thesh’s frenzied existence, which won’t stop him from attempting to gorge himself or horde riches, which will only exacerbate his vengeful rage when these familiar comforts fail to sate the echoes of his appetite. 

Adventure Hooks:

A powerful merchant prince has suffered greatly under Thesh’s raid of her caravans, and invites the party to her polis with an offer to slay the beast. surprise surprise, The prince is well aware that the party are responsible for unleashing the dragon and throws them into a dungeon to await trial. Do the party think they can prove their innocence, or is escape the better option? The latter may prove easier, but it will see them as outlaws and enemies of the Merchant prince’s people, who’s agents operate in nearly every trading post across the sands. 

While opponents may first consider Thesh to merely be a reanimated skeleton, the odd weightlessness with which the dragon moves and the way its bones drift like chimes in an unseen wind will betray the fact that they actually face a spectral apparition puppeting its own remains like an oversized poltergeist. The heroes would be well advised to confront Thesh like they would a disembodied spirit, rather than a flesh and blood beast, as fighting the dragon head on may see him get so angry as to remember that he ISN'T alive anymore, and begin hurling around his own remains like an arsenal of damage resistant spears.

A necromancer of some talent and even greater ambition sees Thesh's return to the world of the living as some great boon, and is working on a spell that may bind the spirit to his will. Do the party trust this malefactor enough to aid in his attempt to acquire the ritual components? Is staying the dragon’s rampage enough of a prize to risk placing its reins in the hands of such a sinister individual ?

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @eldritch-and-tired for commissioning this lil’ /Reader piece of @megalommi‘s Sans, Baggs. I will ALWAYS be a simp for this sexyman. Enjoy!!

Tw: injections, unwilling hypnosis/mind control

...

You giggled.

The light was so pretty. Swirling, undulating, cyan and magenta warping and shifting in and out of one another in an endless hypnotising rhythm. It made you think of a funfair... spirals everywhere, from the tops of the stalls to the decorations on the rides, to the signs leading you around to those huge lollipops that tasted tooth-meltingly sweet. Happy memories, carefree, far away and non-solid but still wonderful. What were you doing? You couldn’t remember anything. You liked blue and purple, they were everywhere, all around you, such pretty colours. 

Pretty, pretty...

“... there we go. easy now.”

... You didn’t realise he was even there until he (somewhat cautiously?) spoke. Your senses were just colours. The voice was odd and a bit disembodied at first but slowly, slowly, you became aware of its source- a face hovering just over you. The awareness spread to your body, too... you were bent at an odd angle with your feet just barely lifted off the floor, your back flat on a rather uncomfortable table, gravity pulling your hair and cheeks. And he... he was just a few inches over you, pinning you by one of your wrists.

...

A tight and tense, cutting smile, clear signs of stress around his face and shoulders making it obvious that this was the smile of a man on the edge and not one of any particular joy. Deep sockets, so wide they looked borderline painful, glaring down at you with so much intensity...

... You could feel his body heat. And his breath against your face. Your heartbeat, your slightly itchy nose, how tight he was holding your wrist.

“... Mh... Huh?” You said, ever-so articulately, vision spinning in the same direction as the swirls emanating from his left socket. A similar way to how the world rocked when you were dizzy... except for you, it never righted itself. It just kept spinning and spinning and spinning. Everything was so bright, as you fell under a pleasant fuzzy sensation burrowed into your chest and mind, blanketing your thoughts as if you were just in the middle of a nice dream where nothing much mattered.

“shh...” 

When he gently closed his gloved fingers around something you had gripped in your pinned hand, you put up no fuss, loosening your hold and allowing him to take it... when did you pick up a scalpel? What an odd thing to have. The back of your head hurt and your knuckles felt the telltale aches of having been tense a few moments ago, even though they were now just an unwound coil like the rest of you.

... Dr. Baggs let out a long slow, breath. You could feel it against your nose and neck, he was that close... his mouth open barely a crack, the magenta hue of his tongue glinting against his fangs. 

“... alright.” He said, voice silky, gentle on your thrumming ears and head, sockets easing around the edges as he calmed down. The bluish shadows of sleep deprivation under them became more apparent as the tension in the room, face and posture waned. “that’s better.”

... Yeah. You thought, relaxed and calm. It is.

... He gave you the bare minimum of personal space, leaning back and helping you to sit, lifting you with the perfect combination of gentle but firm as if he knew you’d immediately feel so dizzy when you became upright. Your hands moved up and held onto his shoulders to steady yourself- the fabric of his lab coat was surprisingly soft, it was very nice to touch. 

... He was so close. Supportive but strict hands on your elbows, your knees on either side of him, he smelled like... the artificial flavouring they added candy that just wasn’t quite natural. And a specific, scented brand of antiseptic; clean and sterile and prepared.

“... well.” He hummed, reaching out of sight for something with one hand. Your forehead would bump his collarbone if you leant forward any more. His voice was so soothing and calming, especially since you were only a few inches from his clavicle... you were getting pretty close to shutting your eyes at this point, but a prick in your arm kept you from completely nodding off- you barely noticed it, too busy studying the aesthetically pleasing purple trim to his coat and enjoying the funny fuzzy sensation in your chest and temples. Oh, he suddenly had a full syringe in his hand that he was putting a cap on... where did he get that? 

“i knew from the start you’d be uncooperative, but... not that kind of uncooperative.”

He held something up to your face. You opened your mouth, (wait, why am I opening my mouth...) and he quickly placed it on your tongue. You swallowed, again, without knowing why... it was like your body was following a list of instructions that you couldn’t see or hear. Someone else had taken the wheel; tugging the right strings to make the right parts of you move when they were needed. 

... You didn’t think about it much. No panic, no confusion, no considering the implications. The thoughts were disconnected... just ships in the night, sailing by your muffled brain. All you could really think about was how whatever he’d given you was very strange and bitter and ew, you cringed, an odd acrid taste lingering in the back of your throat.

... Another prick in your arm. That’s weird, he keeps pricking me. Oh well. This time, you looked just in time to see him removing a now-empty syringe; he wiped where he’d poked your forearm with something very cold, then placed a little circular red band-aid over it.

...

There were six other band-aids on that forearm. Two green, three navy, one black... and now the red one.

Hm... I feel like I should be alarmed by that...

Again, all you could think about was how nice you felt right now. Dizzy, warm, safe. Like you’d had a little too much to drink, but now you were laying out in the sun with your friends... I miss the sun...

“most of my ‘patients’ are at least... consistent.” Baggs hummed, continuining to hold you carefully by the elbows, predicting your post-jab swaying. He didn’t seem to realise he was talking aloud, just a scientist observing his experiment, and you weren’t really paying enough attention to what he was actually saying- too many words to process, boooring. “uncooperative awake, uncooperative under. you’re always displaying aggression toward me... and yet as soon as you have no control, there’s an obediency so immediate it’s borderline subconscious. rather fascinating.”

Instead, you...

“... Sexy voice.”

...

...

“... what?” 

Apparently, that was enough to finally break him out of his thoughts. You glanced up at Baggs’ face, still only a few inches away, you kept forgetting where things were around you... the cushion around your soul never wavered but for a moment there was a little blip in the swirls. A slight interruption.

“Mmmhm.”

...

... His expression sort of... well, ‘melted’ was the wrong word. It was more akin to the sun peeking out from between two clouds. The detached, observational, scientific air to him thinned and began to evaporate... revealing something a little more warm.

The razor and unfriendly edges of his smile were rounding into something organic. Perhaps even, daresay, resembling forward. 

“my.” He purred. “how forward of you.”

“S’very nice. Very smooth...” Your tongue felt... eh. And your arm, where he’d poked you, was starting to itch. “And you have a nice face too... handsome man. I think so.”

...

His smile started growing even more, and he leaned back an inch or two as if to look at all of you and make sure you were really the same person he’d brought into this examination room less than an hour ago. “... oh really?”

“Yeah...” ... Your hands had been just holding onto his coat... but, spurred on by your sudden drunken confidence, you properly looped them around his neck.

... He blinked, but he only let himself appear taken aback for a moment or two. Despite how ominously his magenta eyelights glowed in his dark, shadowed sockets... you could tell he was enjoying himself, and this sudden turn of events. “i’m flattered.”

You laid your head on his chest. It was getting kinda hard to stay upright. 

... Your nose scrunched.

“Funky smell, though.”

That was enough to get an actual laugh out of him- albeit shortlived, his skull cocking like a curious mirthful bird. “are you... genuinely telling me that i smell, darling?”

“Yeah. Because it’s true. You’re gremlin.”

 “i’m... gremlin?”

“Mhm.”

“stars. i wish i could tell pap about this.”

Your body shifted, enough to make you lightly squeak- things were spinning so much that it took you a minute to realise Baggs had picked you up, an arm hooked under your legs and another around your back.

“you’re all done for the day, pet.” His eyelights had become a thrumming, almost amethyst colour as he looked at you, a far gentler shade of purple than his previous headache-inducing magenta. You weren’t sure what’d caused that but you weren’t complaining. You weren’t sure what’d caused him to carry you either, considering he usually just brought someone to collect his ‘patients’ for him... but, again, not complaining. “it’s time to get back to your room.”

“I feel funny.” You mumbled.

“that’s normal.”

He started walking. The halls all looked the same, as he moved through them, blending into one another... white and sterile, a few doors dotted inbetween if you were lucky but mostly just the exact same tiles and patterns and lack of anything that would clue you into the fact that people had actually (at some point) existed in this area. 

“Hm... is this where you work...?”

A little chuckle. He was sounding further and further away. “yes. this is my job, dear.”

“It’s so g... ug-ly.”

“oh? you think so?” Baggs’ tone had become... light? Perhaps a little teasing. 

“Jus... put up some nice posters, or something.” Your head was so heavy. Since when was it this heavy? You had to rest it against his chest, feeling that nice fabric against your cheek, hearing an equally nice humming sound from inside his ribcage. “Paint the walls. It’s so... white. Clini... ...clinicic... Calic...” 

“clinical?”

“... Yeah.Tthat.”

A gloved phalange touched your arm. It was probably an attempt at a comforting gesture- stroking the skin. “good to know. i’ll make sure to pass that eloquent advice along to the decorating team.”

“Good.”

He brought you to a cell-like room. It was... vaguely familiar? A bed with one pillow, thin white sheets... some strange posters and a window with bars over it. You felt like you’d spent a long time in there, but it was impossible to think straight enough to actually muster up any memories.

Baggs laid you down on the bed, slowly, handling you like you’d fall apart at any moment. You made a little noise- it wasn’t a very soft bed... but it was good enough. And your body felt so strange and tired that any soft surface honestly was nice enough to lay down on forever.

“comfy?” He asked. Since when did he inquire if you were comfy?

“M... no. S’whatever.”

...

You peeked at him, crouched by your bed... and you reached out, pressing your inexplicably heavy finger against the top of his nasal cavity in a booping motion. You mumbled a little victorious “Silly skeleton.” 

...

He took your hand in his gloved one, gently, before it could go limp and flop down. You couldn’t really make out his expression at this point.

“don’t tell the other subjects...” He murmured... he sounded amused, at least. “but i think you’ve become my favourite.”

“Course.” You shut your eyes. “I’m... m’amazing.”

“... yes. course.” 

A feeling, like a kiss on your hand, before he placed it by your side.

“... go to sleep.”

...

And just like that, your body obeyed him before your head could even process what he’d said, and you were asleep.

[fierypen37]

For Now

moodboard by @libradoodle1​

For Now

 Daenerys paced in the cramped space of her underground sleeping quarters, frustrated. The house she purchased in Winterfell was small and well-appointed—Missandei had a discerning eye. Clean and minimalist in the modern style. A part of Dany would always miss the ornate grandeur homes were garbed in when she was young, though in those days she had been more likely to scurry off to the stables than learn how to manage a magnificent Targaryen household at her mother’s knee. The most vampiric feature was the fortified cellar where she would rest during the day. To unknowing eyes, it was simply a basement with a wall-to-wall bookshelf and an ornate bed. While some of the myths circulating were fiction, vampires could not venture into the sunlight, unless they wanted to end their existence. Her kind called it the True Death.

Now, as the minutes ticked by, Daenerys was anxious. For Jon. How had he become so essential in the last eight months? Jon Snow’s sad, solemn soul was a reflection of her own, along with his loneliness. Together they mended each other’s hurts and found solace in each other. With him, she had laughed for the first time in a lifetime. Every day, whether she sat at the bar while he worked, or at any of the small cafes littered around Winterfell where they dated, or in the homey quiet of his cabin, she fell a little more in love with him.

Little things.

The unexpected brightness of his sudden smiles. How he always blew on hot drinks before giving it to her. That look of contented admiration when he listened to her tell a story. How touchy he was: always holding her hand, or kissing her hair or, nudging her shoulder with his own as they sat on the same side of a booth. Something inside her had been starved for affection, for kindness. Daenerys flourished and bloomed with Jon. And gods, what they did together in bed! While not as polished or skilled as her previous lovers, he was enthusiastic, handsome, and had stamina to rival a vampire’s.  

One bone of contention tarnished otherwise blissful happiness.

“I’ll tell him. Soon,” Daenerys said to her reflection. Tonight was the eight-month anniversary of their first ‘dessert’ date. Jon would always wink when he mentioned it. His ‘wink’ was a focused blink, and Daenerys thought it was the most adorable tic. Jon’s only instructions were for her to spruce up her usual casual dress for a fancy dinner. Vampires could eat small amounts of human food for taste, but would gain no nourishment. Daenerys agonized over her wardrobe.

“How about this one?” Daenerys said, holding up a single shoulder black dress with lacey hem. Missy’s face on the smartphone screen was noncommittal. Brilliant golden eyes watched her.

“Not enough wow factor,” she said. Daenerys bit back a frustrated sound, tossing the dress into a growing heap on her bed.

“That handsome human of yours will drool regardless of what you wear, darling,” Missy said in a soothing tone. Daenerys riffled through the hanging clothes in her closet. She exhaled a sharp breath.

“I just want tonight to be perfect,” she whispered.

“What’s special about tonight?” Grey’s disembodied voice said.

“Our . . . eight-month anniversary,” Daenerys with a wince. They must think she and Jon were juvenile and trite. Eight months was a blink of an eye in the lifespan of a vampire.

“Adorable,” Grey said with genuine warmth, “he’ll have another anniversary to celebrate once he joins our ranks.” Daenerys stilled. Never, if I have any say. Jon will never be cursed with this life.

“Perhaps,” she said. Missandei and Grey were the closest thing she had to a family, but Jon’s heart and humanity had warmed her like a sun. To curse him to live as she did, in the dark, on the blood of his fellow men . . . no. Never.

It might be a moot point, if he runs screaming when you tell him what you are. Guilt scourged her with her lies, but fear made her cling tighter, like a criminal to their cross.

“I’ll text you later. I’ll see if I can find anything suitable,” Daenerys said. Missy hadn’t missed any of Daenerys’ micro-expressions, but chose not to comment. Sometimes, it was as if Missandei knew Dany better than she knew herself.

“Have fun, love,” Missy said, echoed by Grey. Daenerys ended the call and heaved a sigh.

At last, Daenerys settled on a fitted black suit, no shirt, tall ankle boots, hair in an artfully disheveled bun. Scrutinizing her reflection, she was moments from tearing it off and starting over when she heard a familiar tread on the sidewalk overhead. She could pluck his voice out of a thousand, as well as the pattern of his gait, the scent and exact heat of him. Jon was early. In a flash, Daenerys scaled the stairs and stood waiting in the foyer. It was a clear spring evening in Winterfell, and the sun was setting. Outside, the air smelled of pollen and rain. She waited in the lengthening shadows for his approach. Long-striding, easy. Eager. It softened her still heart. He and Ghost were so similar. Contained, aloof, watchful, then once they learned you could be trusted, they were affectionate, loyal, and fiercely protective.

Daenerys waited for his usual three-knock sequence, but he lingered on the porch. All the typical human tells of nervousness were there. Swift heartrate, shaky breathing, the tang of sweat.

“Courage, Jon,” he said to himself. Why was he so nervous? Was he contemplating ending things? Daenerys’ fingers curled on the newel post, crushing the wood to splinters.

“Damn it,” she muttered, kicking the decapitated knob down the cellar stairs and dusting wood pulp from her suit coat. Ridiculous. One doesn’t lavishly celebrate an anniversary if one plans to break their partner’s heart. Knock-knock-knock. Three loud raps. Daenerys waited for a moment so as not to startle him. Another tedious thing about humans, they were so much slower. She opened the door, careful to remain in his shadow as he stepped inside.

“Jon! You’re early. Come in,” she said, accepting his buss on her cheek. Jon gave her a lingering once-over. His grey eyes were as dark and hungry as a wolf’s. Arousal unfurled in her belly. The predatory tendencies in Jon made her wonder if some old magic still lurked within him. She would have to taste his blood to know for sure.

“Wow. Seven hells, Dany. How you expect me to take you in public when you look like that?” he rumbled, moving closer to nuzzle her cheek with his nose. The woodsy, masculine smell seeping from his pores washed over her in a soft cloud. The salty heat and strength of him. The beating heart and hot blood tempting her. A potent cocktail of arousal and thirst.

“And you, Lord Commander? Look at you. Women will commit acts of indecency in public for you.” It was true, Jon was a devastatingly handsome man. His curls were tamed by product and combed back. He wore a black suit coat with a white button-down, the collar charmingly askew and unbuttoned. Painted-on dark jeans and polished black shoes. His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes in a way she loved.

Warm rough hands slipped beneath the hem of her suit coat, skimmed along the waistband of her trousers, calluses snagging on the delicate fabric. Daenerys’ hands flexed on fistfuls of his coat. Slow, careful. So much about him challenged her hard-won control. Jon’s hand crept up, cupping the undercurve of her bare breast, teasing the furled nipple with his thumb. The touch was light, gentle. Daenerys shivered, desire throbbing urgent between her thighs. It was embarrassing how thoroughly he had her in his thrall. A simple possessive touch and she was panting for more. Daenerys was aware of every beat of his heart, his blood vessels dilating, his cock hard in his trousers. Intoxicating.  

“Fuck. No bra? Gods, Dany, you’re killing me,” he rumbled in her ear. Those grey eyes were dilated into black pools. Dany. Dany, that sweet, simple name that only her mother had called her. She liked the way Jon’s lips formed it.

Daenerys tilted her chin, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. The taste of him. Coffee and a deeper Jon-taste that she was hopelessly addicted to. Pleasure kindled, always simmering so close under the surface whenever his hands were on her. Jon shifted, angling his head to kiss her deeper. As he did so, a fading ray of sunlight reached her through the blinds. Pain seared her cheek, the hiss of a burn. Daenerys recoiled; her fangs extended in the sudden pain. Unreasoning terror filled her. She pressed a hand hard over her mouth. Had he seen? Had he—Jon blinked at her, confusion and hurt at war on his features.

“Are you ok? Did I hurt you?” he asked, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides—his patented nervous or thoughtful gesture. Daenerys retracted her fangs, lightly touching her cheekbone. The skin was already smooth and perfect again.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, swallowing hard. She cleared her throat, “we should go.” Jon consulted his watch and straightened his shirt with a sharp tug.

“You’re right. It took months to get this reservation. Let’s go.” There was a tightness in his smile and Daenerys wondered again at his nervousness.

She followed him outside—confident now that the sun had at last sunk beneath the horizon. His black Jeep was in rare form—that is to say, clean. Usually, the interior was cluttered with the bar’s receipts and invoices, junk mail, old paper coffee cups, bottle caps, Ghost hair. The intimacy of their recent entwined lives now felt oddly strained. Tonight was something more than an anniversary. Even if it was any of the wonderful options Dany was now fantasizing about, she was still supremely miserable. What life could she have with him? If she kept her mouth shut, how long could she keep it up? ‘Sorry my love, I can’t meet your family for breakfast, the sun will burn me to a crisp. Is there any way we can reschedule for after dark?’ What about in ten years, or even five, when she was the exact same as she was now? I should end things. It will be better for him in the long run. No. Not yet. She had just found him! They rode in silence. Jon turned the Jeep north up the highway into the thick of downtown.

The Smoking Log was a posh place with sleek wood paneling and a placard boasting its historical landmark status.

“‘The oldest pub in the north?’” Dany read. Jon nodded.

“It’s been here since 300 AC,” Jon said, taking her hand as they walked in. The ease of his touch was enough to dispel her dark thoughts and the lingering awkwardness of her gaffe. Jon opened the door for her and ushered her inside. The air smelled of savory spices, lemon detergent, and a hint of musty aging that all old buildings possessed. The hostess tapped Jon’s name on her tablet and ushered them to their cozy booth. A candle burned on their table, smelling inoffensively of vanilla. Candlelight had a way of relaxing her. It was familiar. The deep shadows in the corners helped too. The bartender materialized at Jon’s elbow. Jon ordered an ale and she ordered a glass of wine. Red instead of her usual white or Arbor gold. As the bartender left with their order, Jon’s knee bounced under the table.

“Steel yourself, Lord Commander. This place has three forks,” Daenerys whispered. The teasing and the nickname had the intended effect. Jon’s sunny smile broke out and tension visibly bled from his shoulders. An answering smile stretched her own face.

“How do you know which one again?” Jon asked. He reached across the table for her hand. She took it, stroking the leaping pulse at his wrist with her fingertip. Warm and vital and human.

“Start from the outside and work your way in,” Daenerys confided.

The waiter arrived with their drinks and offered menus. He rattled off the specials and spoke only to Dany with an oily smile that made Daenerys tense. How many times had she seen that look? Narrow blue eyes trailed over her. His blond man-bun and wrist tattoos had an affected air. Besides that, he was rude to Jon, and thus Daenerys disliked him. In fact, if she hadn’t already fed in preparation for their date, she might have tracked this ‘Joff’ down later. Daenerys tightened her grip on Jon’s hand.

“Thank you, that will be all for now,” she said. Even, polite, but dismissive. As he strode away, Jon snickered.

“Wow. I can’t take you anywhere,” he said, grinning. Dany blinked, replaying the interaction and searching for the inference. At her puzzled look, Jon kissed the back of her hand. The nerves of her hand seemed to glow from the contact.

“You don’t even realize it, do you? How absolutely gorgeous you are. Men trip over each other trying to get your attention.”

“Women do the same with you,” Dany said dryly, “and they’re far less subtle.” How many kitten-pretty girls had slid him her number at the bar, or stood with their breasts or asses stuck out in hopes of snagging his attention? How many times had she contemplated following them out the shadowy woods and draining them dry for the presumption? A vampire’s instinct for violence was hard to temper, even after three hundred years.

“Subtle? That guy was seconds from asking you out before you pulled your queen voice on him.”

“Queen voice?” There was a strangled note to Dany’s answer. Her reign had been long ago and fated for tragedy, but perhaps some mannerisms never left her. The gleam of admiration in Jon’s eyes dissolved her worry.

“Yeah. Smooth and polite, but with an undertone of don’t-fuck-with-me. It’s distractingly sexy.”

Daenerys smiled in startled pleasure.

“Apologies. I’ll try not to be too distracting,” she drawled, leaning forward slightly to reveal a glimpse of her cleavage.  Jon’s throat flexed as he swallowed hard. Talk about distracting. The jump of the pulse at his throat. Hot blood so close to the surface. Thirst flared in her throat. Jon exhaled a shaky breath, toying with his collar.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” Jon murmured. Daenerys felt the growl of his thickened northern burr down to her toes. Daenerys leaned back against the booth with a satisfied grin. It was immensely enjoyable to wind Jon up. Playfully, of course. After a beat, she said: “I’m shocked Ghost let you leave the house in such pristine condition.” Dany took a sip of the dry red, enjoying the bouquet. Jon chuckled, warming to his favorite subject.

“He didn’t. I had to use three sheets of a lint roller to get all the dog hair off,” he said.

“Clown,” Daenerys said affectionately. They spoke of the bar, Jon’s friends, current events. By degrees through the appetizer course, Jon relaxed. By the time their main course arrived, he had her laughing at Tormund’s antics with his latest girlfriend.

“—and then she came back to the bar with a baseball bat saying Tormund had cheated on her and she was going to bash his cheating head in. We had to call the police. Again.”

“Oh Tormund,” Dany said, taking a decorous bite of steak, savoring the salty, bloody taste.

“He is a good friend, and better than any bouncer. He keeps the Watch ticking. I’m lucky to have him, despite his bi-weekly fuck-ups,” Jon said. Daenerys grinned at his pun and pondered his words. Most employers would have written off the massive free folker. Jon’s loyalty was evident.

Over their months together, Jon had opened up about his checkered past. At fifteen, Jon faced a stint at the Wall—now a juvenile detention facility. He called it ‘a combination of teenage anger and fighting the establishment.’ Tormund had been an adjunct counselor, and they’d bonded.

“He’s lucky to have you. He’s not the only one,” Daenerys said softly, squeezed his captive hand. Something shifted in Jon’s expression, settling into a decision. Finally.

“Dany, I . . . I have something for you,” Jon said, fumbling in his suit coat pocket. Daenerys forgot to maintain her façade of humanity and fell perfectly still, utterly focused. Not moving, not breathing. A poised predator. Microseconds passed as Jon pulled the object from his pocket. A square paper box. Not jewelry. Joy and terror both coursed through her in equal measure, battling for supremacy. Those dark eyes shone with emotion, nerves pressing his trembling lips into a slight frown. He popped it open. Inside was a key.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I do know that I love you. And I want you to move in with me,” Jon said. Emotion swelled up to rest in a hard knot in her throat and Daenerys passionately wished she could cry. To weep out of love for him, and to mourn what she couldn’t give him. Defiant, Daenerys shoved away that thought. Not yet. He’s mine!

“Yes. Yes, Jon. I would love to,” Daenerys said, accepting the key as if it were a holy relic. Relief made Jon melt and his eyes shone with unshed tears. Daenerys was overcome, circling the table to kiss him. Conscious of the semi-public setting, she kept the kiss light. Pulling back, she smiled tenderly at him.  

“Let’s go home,” she asked.

Giddy, they skipped to the car and drove down the darkened roads to Jon’s house.

“You know the theatrics would have made one think you were going in a different direction,” Daenerys remarked as Jon parked the Jeep at the mouth of his detached garage. Jon blushed red as a tomato. Another distracting, delectable predilection. He raked a hand through his hair. The product in his hair made pieces stand on end. Gods, he was adorable. The air was cooling and freshening as night settled in. Daenerys breathed deeply of the fresh air heavy with the scent of blooming flowers, earth and growing things. Cicadas hummed in a hypnotic rhythm. Fireflies danced in the air.

“Yeah, I realized that as I pulled up to your house. Sorry if you’re . . . disappointed. But I will state for the record, milady, that I am definitely walking in that direction. I could go there tomorrow if you could,” he said, jingling his keys in one hand as he walked up the gravel path to his house. Daenerys stopped in her tracks. Surely the world had shifted on its axis. Jon was contemplating marrying her? Jon stopped too, tension bunching up his shoulders.

“Jon, you fucking idiot,” he muttered in a voice that was too low for a human to hear at this distance. But Daenerys heard. Jon turned as if he were about to face down a firing squad.

“Dany, forget I said that. Let’s just--” Daenerys moved too fast and he started, surprised that she was now nose-to-nose with him. Daenerys laid a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the thundering beat of his wonderful, generous heart.  

“You didn’t . . . mean it, then?” she whispered, with barely enough breath behind it. Jon splayed his hands on the small of her back, holding her close with reassuring tension. Jon leaned his forehead to touch hers and heaved a sigh. Daenerys breathed in the scent and solidness of him. Jon’s jaw flexed, staring at her as if she hung the moon, beyond words. Dany plucked up her courage.

“Jon, I don’t want to . . . to fuck this up. You mean too much to me. I love you. I want you. Today. Tomorrow. The next day.”

“Gods, Dany. I love you.”

Daenerys chased those beautiful words. She wanted to taste them, drink them in. The kiss was gentle, holy. With this kiss, I thee wed. Daenerys could never marry him in truth, but she could pretend for now.

“I love you, Jon Snow. Today. Tomorrow,” she said again. Forever.

“Now take me to bed,” she whispered against his lips.

Jon cupped her face, drawing her back into the house. Soft kisses rained on her eyelids, her forehead, her cheekbones, her lips. Kissing whilst climbing stairs was awkward, but they managed it between giggles. Daenerys used her strength to subtly steady him. Daenerys slid her hands up his chest, pushing the suit coat from his shoulders. Mm, the strong shape of him, so solid and sturdy. Jon tugged at the elastic in her hair. Silver waves tumbled down her shoulders. Daenerys wanted this night indelibly printed on her memory. She loved this room. The chair in the corner where Jon heaped his dirty clothes. The square, dark-stained frame of the bed, the soft mattress that smelled of Jon. The whole room was filled with his scent. Cluttered and wonderfully homey.

Diffuse moonlight slanted through the blinds, painting Jon stripes of light on the far side of the bed. Dark grey eyes dilated with desire, lips kiss-reddened. Mouthwatering. Desires was a deep pull in her gut, a liquid ache between her thighs. They drew together like magnets. Jon had those full lips and knew how to use them. The intuitive pressure, the playful dance of tongue. His hands cupped her neck, sliding up to fist in handfuls of her hair. The nerves of her scalp tingled with joy. Daenerys’ hands marched down the buttons of his shirt, then loosed the tongue of his belt. Perhaps too fast in her eagerness, but Jon didn’t complain.

Jon kicked off the shackle of his jeans and underwear. Gloriously naked.  Pale and smooth and hard, like an ancient Valyrian sculpture. She wanted the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart against her chest, drinking in his vitality. A parasite. She flinched away from that nasty voice in her head. His thick cock beckoned her and she stroked him in a loose fist, loving the vital throb, the sleek hard shape. Jon gasped, head tipped back, exposing his throat. Her fangs lengthened, longing to bite. To taste the rich heat of his blood.  

Jon smoothed the backs of his fingers down the silk lapel of her suit coat.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” Jon purred, flicking the button loose. The fabric slid open and Dany shrugged it off, mastering her wild instincts with some effort. He was so very tempting. Jon cursed under his breath.

“Gods, Dany,” he whispered, bending his head to nuzzle her breasts. Pleasure was as soft as the kiss of moonlight. She sank her fingers into his hair, cradling him to her chest. Even though it didn’t beat, her heart was still his. More his than any other’s.

Jon pressed her down into the mattress, peeling off the pleated slacks. The scrap of red lace that had the temerity to call itself underwear bared to his avid gaze. Winding Jon up. He loved her in red. His grin was sinful.

“Minx,” Jon drawled, teasing the crease of her hip with one finger. Daenerys pressed one foot on his ridged belly.

“What are you going to do about it, Lord Commander?” she said, in her ‘queen’ voice with an arched brow. Something subtle shifted in his expression, the same settling of intent.

“Lick you until you scream, my queen.” He peeled aside the gusset of her underwear and dove in. Daenerys yelped in surprised pleasure. Jon was a virtuoso at cunnilingus. Every trill of his tongue, every delicate sweep over her clit drove her absolutely mad. She writhed under his gripping hands. It took a good deal of her control to remember her strength while Jon was dedicated to unraveling her sanity between her thighs. He hummed. The vibration on her clit sent her careening into grasping pleasure. Daenerys gasped as she floated down, petting his hair.

“Gods, Jon,” she whispered shakily. Jon rose up on his elbows, nibbling the soft skin of her inner thigh. He peeled off the soaked panties and tossed them aside.

“Gods, I love that. I could spend my whole life making you come and die happy,” he said with a wide, happy smile. Daenerys returned the smile, though the hyperbole made her flinch. Grabbing a handful of his hair, she tugged gently.

“My turn,” she whispered, guiding him up for a messy kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, smell the muskiness on his beard. So very rousing.

Jon lay back on his elbows. Daenerys admired swells and hollows of his body. Smooth white skin. She could map the constellations of his freckles blindfolded. The flat mole on his third toe. Assorted little scars on his arms and hands earned from hard labor. The corded strength in his broad chest and thick thighs. Small pink nipples. She dusted kisses on his chest, playfully licking his nipples. Jon gasped, hands flexing in the bedsheets. Daenerys bent on the mattress to pay homage to one of her favorite parts of his anatomy. Thick, veined and so hard. Jon was always blushing and tongue-tied whenever she returned the favor with oral. It was another thing on a long list of charming things about him. Watching his face was her favorite part. The way his mouth went slack, how open and vulnerable he looked. Hard hands cupped her neck gently, guiding the pace he liked. She sucked and slurped, loving the heat and taste of him. Jon was very well-endowed, and Daenerys was grateful she lacked both a gag reflex and the need for air. She could suck him all night, if he let her.

“Gods, Dany. Yes. Yessss,” he hissed, thrusting shallowly into her mouth. She pushed the pace, eager for the taste of his seed. If she couldn’t have his blood, his seed was the next best thing. The tension was building, his cock hardening even more. He chanted her name, then tugged her hair gently.

“Dany, Dany—I don’t want to come yet,” he gasped. Reluctantly, she eased off, wiping spit from her mouth. It roused her fiercely to undo his control.

“Like this,” Dany said, rising to her hands and knees. A part of her wanted it slow and careful and romantic. Another, larger part wanted hard, feral fucking. Daenerys wanted to feel him in every pore, saturate her senses in Jon.

“Fuck yes,” Jon said. The mattress dipped behind her. Daenerys watched him through heavy-lidded eyes, coiled with anticipation. His hands smoothed down her back, squeezing her hips. She arched her back, skin taut with expectation. Jon gave her arse cheek a sharp slap. Tingles of sensation shivered through her, soothed by his gentle stroke. A needy sound left her at the half-rough handling. Gods, she loved it. Daenerys felt the glancing touch as he pumped himself, lining them up. His other hand cupped her mound, teasing her clit with his fingers. The pleasure twisted through her.

“Yes. Fuck, Jon. Let me feel you,” she hissed. Jon eased in, teasing.

“I love hearing that prim voice say those filthy words. Patience, love,” he said, sounding so damned smug. The blunt head pushed in, maddeningly slow. Daenerys snarled and moved her hips back, bottoming out with her arse flush with his hips. Yesss. So good. The length and girth of him stretching her full. Jon groaned, steadying himself with one hand curled on her shoulder. The other petted her arse.

“Yes. You take me so well. You’re perfect. Ride my cock, love. So. Fucking. Sexy.” Daenerys shivered at the husky drawl on his voice, punctuated with sharp punch of his hips. She obeyed, almost dizzy with excitement as she moved forward and back. The musky scent of sex and sweat filled the air, as intoxicating as perfume. The wet slap of flesh. Jon’s rough little sounds. Gods, she could fuck him forever. Jon’s fingers strummed her clit and the edges of her vision pulsed. Pleasure churned and built, higher and higher. With a sharp cry, she tumbled over the edge. Collapsed on her elbows, Jon snarled behind her. Hard, pummeling thrusts.

“Again. Give me another. Touch yourself,” Jon commanded as he rode her. Daenerys obeyed, rubbing her clit. The pleasure built quicker this time, boiling up like a volcanic eruption.

“Jon. Jon, I’m coming again,” she cried, lost in the rising tide of pleasure. Jon gasped and came, spilling his seed inside her in long, delicious spasms. Jon slurred her name, collapsing forward on top of her. Greedy, Jon resumed his pace. Thrusting deep and heavy and slow, grunting with each thrust, drawing it out.

“Fuck, Jooon,” she moaned. The head of his cock rubbed that hot spot inside her, over-sensitive nerves striving towards another orgasm. He bit the side of her neck and in that moment she came again, writhing underneath his commanding weight. Tension unspooled into bliss, both so sated and warm. That breath of grace as they lay replete—something she had never felt before. Jon Snow. Tendrils of thought spun out to bind to him. He sagged down on her back, murmuring words of praise. Daenerys recovered first, slipping from beneath him to clean up in the bathroom.

“Sorry,” Jon slurred, stirring himself to clean up. His big dopey smile made her smile too as she returned to bed.

“Pleased with yourself?” Daenerys joked, curling into him beneath the covers. The sleek press of naked skin as a delight. Jon tugged her closer with a sigh.

“Happier than I’ve ever been,” he said.

“Me too.” And it was true.

[babyloposts]

Sleepwalker

OneShot

Pairing: Soul x Maka

Fandom: Soul Eater

Warnings: fluff, nightmares, nudity, language

WordCount: 1.4K+

Summary: Soul has been having unexplainable nightmares as of late and finds that the only way to soothe them are from thinking about Maka. One night his subconscious takes things a little too far and he some how winds up waking up in Maka’s bed.

A/N: I love platonic SoMa almost as much as I love them romantically, but just them caring for each other is so fucking cute in any sense. So enjoy this cute fluffy stuff cuz I’m in that kind of mood

Darkness encompassed everything for miles. Shadows ran amuck against the walls that dripped black blood. Soul looked down at his legs. They were stuck in place. No way of getting out of the tar like substance his lower body was trapped in. This couldn’t be the end it just couldn’t.

Suddenly a voice eerily familiar echoed off of every building in the darkened city and rattled through his brain. “Don’t fight it anymore Soul. You’re not allowed to have nice things and you know that. Why don’t we get rid of that little Meister of yours so you can remember what your destiny is.” Soul searched everywhere for the source of the voice, but it was disembodied. There was no one out here for miles.

That is until Maka emerged about 50 feet in front of him almost drowning in sticky black ooze. Soul’s breath caught in his throat. How could she be here? She wasn’t apart of this.

“Soul!” The blood curdling yell struck a nerve jolting Soul into action. There was no way this was how it would end. There was no way he could lose everything like this. Using all the might he could muster he began to move his legs. He was moving at a snail’s pace even though he was sprinting with everything he had in him. His feet stuck to the ground with each step and pulled him back to the darkness from which he once came. He wouldn’t go back, couldn’t go back. Not until she was safe.

“Soul! Help Me!” She sounded like she was drowning and crying. So was he. Tears streamed down his face as the end looked closer. He wouldn’t make it in time. She was sinking and he was too fucking slow. No this couldn’t be it, he could go faster.

Soul tried, and pushed, and screamed. It was down to the wire. She was sinking fast and there wasn’t much left he could do to save her. There was only a few feet left, but he couldn’t make it. The blood was already seeping from her mouth and her tear ducts before he even reached her.

“MAKA! NO!”

“S-soul... please Soul... Soul!”

His eyes jolted open as he took in the new scenery. It was familiar in a comforting way. The floors and walls covered in books and plants only bringing warmth to the man still coming off a terrifying high. He breathing stilled as a hand was brought up to his chest, that hand belonging to the owner of the room.

“Soul?” She spoke softly not trying to provoke the fragile giant in her bed.

“Maka...” Soul’s cognitive skills were finally coming back to him as he realized this was not where he had fallen asleep. Somehow in the time it took for him to pass out in his bedroom and have that nightmare he had ended up... in his meister’s bedroom. “How...?”

Maka shook her head and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I’m just as surprised as you apparently, but...” Maka shied away. She had awoken to Soul quivering by her side. She didn’t know how long he had been there, but... there were tears.

Soul sat up fully and dropped his head into his hands. Why now of all times? Right before a big mission. It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t slept-walked since he was a child and now all of a sudden he starts up and climbs into his best friend’s bed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I haven’t... done this, in a long time.”

“You didn’t scare me. I’m just worried about you.” Her palm moved from his chest to his cheek, doing anything she could to be comforting. Soul sighed, he felt like a baby and how could he not. He was basically crawling into “mommy’s” bed after a bad dream. He was fucking crying. His disdain for himself replaced all the fearful and vulnerable emotions from before.

“Soul. What was it about?” Maka questioned hesitantly.

“Nothing. Just had me scared a little.” He brushed off, but Maka wasn’t buying it.

“Nothing? Really? You crawled into my bed at 3AM.”

“Well if you wanted me to leave you could’ve just said that.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” Maka outstretched her arm to make him stay, but not before realizing the actual elephant in the room. “S-Soul you’re... naked.” Maka pulled away quickly and covered her eyes.

If Soul wasn’t embarrassed before he certainly was now. His cheeks burned red hot and he grabbed the closest thing he could find to cover himself. Wrapping Maka’s towel around his waist he sat himself on the edge of the bed and prepared for the scolding that was sure to ensue.

“Are you decent?”

“Y-yeah.” He sighed. Maka opened her eyes to see him facing away from her with his head held in his hands.

“That’s my towel.” She chuckled.

“I’ll wash it.”

Maka laughed at the hint of annoyance in his voice, but quickly regained her worry for the boy. He wouldn’t sleep walk into her room, or cry if that dream was just “a little bit scary”.

“Seriously Soul, what’s wrong? You can tell me anything, you know?”

Soul sat pouting for a minute more before giving in. He barely had any dignity left anyway.

“The dreams. They’re about you.” He sighed. He couldn’t look at her, wouldn’t dare try to gauge her reaction now. She probably thought he was pathetic. “I keep seein you, all surrounded in black blood and drowning. And I can never save you. I’m never fast enough. I usually wake up around the time that you die. And for my own conscience I come and... check on you.”

Maka stayed silent allowing Soul the space to say what he needed. She didn’t know how to feel. Dream analysis usually says that if someone close to you dies in a dream that could mean good fortune, or the start of something new, but she doubted Soul’s dreams were anything less than literal.

“I know it’s stupid, but I always check. To make sure you’re still okay. And I guess... I don’t know. They say old habits die hard, hence the sleepwalking and I’m sorry. You’re just the only thing that can ease my mind when I get like this.”

No words were passed between the duo, just Maka’s arms coming to rest around Soul’s shoulders and her head lodged in the crook of his neck. “I’m right here.”

Soul felt like it was the first time he could breathe that night. Finally he felt that comfort he had been looking for. He moved a hand back to pat Maka’s head as a ‘thank you’. “Thanks Maka. I needed that.”

Maka released soul from his captivity within her embrace. Reluctantly he stood and started for the door. “I’ll get you a new towel.” He chuckled awkwardly.

“You’re leaving?” It was the first time he was able to catch her gaze since the admission. He studied her face. Those bright green eyes luring him towards her.

“W-well, I figured I might as well try to get another hour of sleep in while I can.”

“What if the nightmares come back?”

“Are you asking me to stay?”

“Only if that’s what you want.” That’s exactly what he wanted. To have Maka right beside him assuring them both that they would be okay. Soul smirked at Maka before turning to leave her bedroom without another word.

Maka sighed and flopped down onto her back. Soul was so stupid sometimes. He wasn’t the only one who worried. She worried about him being safe all the time. If only he would let himself be vulnerable sometimes, at least around her.

Approaching footsteps brought Maka out from her thoughts. Soul appeared in the doorway again, now with shorts on. He closed the door behind himself and slunk in next to Maka on the bed. He sighed to himself before meeting her gaze with a small content smile on his face.

“Thanks for worrying about me.” He smiled.

“You’re not the only one who worries, Soul. I just wanna be here for you okay?” She let a delicate finger trace along his jawline in reassurance. He nodded and sighed at the comforting touch.

“We should get some sleep.” He suggested. Maka agreed, but she still had one last thought lingering at the back of her mind.

“Yeah we should. But Soul...”

“Hm?”

“You sleep naked?” Maka couldn’t even try to contain her giggles as Soul groaned in annoyance. He turned so that his back was facing her to hide the embarrassment prevalent on his cheeks.

“Shut up. I get hot at night!”

[torytaz]

Tommy loved

Tommy loved water, he always had, the waters he had visited with his family as a child made him love it. It probably helped that Techno loved the water too, he had the dream of flying with the water. The waters of his home kept him safe and cool in the summer and hot in the winter they were beautiful and blue. But now the water is no longer the place where he is at peace, he now looks over the water with longing hoping a boat will appear in the horizon.

Tommy loved cows, he had a lovely cow with his dad, they named it and he kept it through his childhood. He loved drinking their milk and getting milk foam on his lips, and the peace that came from knowing the cows would protect him from the creatures of poison. But the cow that was brought to him only resembles his cow in name. Nothing will replace the cow of his childhood. 

Tommy loved the nether, it was where they found his brother, though it was hot he always had someone to help him overcome the heat, he would mine the gold, play with the piglins, after Techno introduced him to them. He enjoyed running through the forests, in between endermen and parkouring in the basalt delta. Now he only has a heartache from wanting to go through the portal, and reach paradise. 

Tommy loved trees, he relished in their shade and the comfort of their cooling trunks. He would sit under the tree of his homeland and think of the way it had survived the weather of the world for years and believe. The only trees he had now were cold and empty of the life and soul he loved. 

Tommy loved music, he would sing and make up song with the beat of Techno. But he loved not only the songs he sang, but also the songs of his brother, such wonderful songs did Tommy’s brother make, he could listen to them all night and fall asleep to their tune. His favourite song of all, was the song of independence he would sing along to with his family. He now only reminisces the now distant sound, of glory and a special place. 

Tommy loved his discs, the sweet sound they would play, made up for the hell he had been through to get them. The music they played was enough to keep him sane and happy. But the discs are gone stolen and traded for the freedom of a country that exiled him. 

Tommy loved Phil, his father, the man who protected him through childhood. Phil the subject of his favourite song. His father was a gentle wind that would blow through his heart and keep him safe and sound in trying times. But know his father laughs at his exile and torment, a loving father is gone and lost. 

Tommy loved Techno, his brother and the warmth, the man who taught him everything. Taught him the ways of the piglins. Tommy enjoyed the smell of Techno, he would always get a whiff of potatoes and if he was lucky a baked potato would be given to him. But that didn’t last, Techno turned his back to everyone and grew bitter. He taught Tommy that the universal language was violence and has forgotten the warmth of family. 

Tommy loved Wilbur, the ways his soothing voice would tell him, he had done well and the songs they would sing, Tommy could always trust that his brother had his back. They fought for their land together, fought a tyrant together, and build their nation together. He never thought that his brother would turn on him like he did. The feeling he got when hearing that he couldn’t do what he wanted to do and wouldn’t be remembered. Tommy still loved his brother through it all and all that was left with him is the disembodied voice of a brother he once looked up to and sought acknowledgement from. 

Tommy loved Tubbo, he still does, he loves the way they would watch the sunsets together and through the wars they fought they never left the others side until it demanded that they be separated. He watched as his brother slaughtered his best friend. He thought that they would be together always, but he ended up in exile from his homeland being sent away by a boy he considered his brother. 

Tommy loved Tommy, he used to. He used to believe that he could do anything, believed that life would be kind, but his rage and heightened feelings got the best of him, they caused immense harm to both him and his family, he had killed them. He didn’t deserve them the slightest he deserved their hate. He believed that the torment he got from Dream was deserved and that his life in exile was not worth anything. 

Tommy used to love, he loved to the point where it hurt. But love is not worth it anymore he thinks as he looks back at the sea that separates him, back at logsteadshire and the trees, the replacement cow, as he enters the nether. Feels the warmth. He listens to his discs for one last time and reminisces the sound as he starts to sing along, and he thinks of Phil, the father who killed his brother, he walks through the nether. Techno, the brother who killed his best friend, up to the path to the portal. Wilbur, the brother and figurehead who killed L’manburg, he looks at the portal and he sees the shimmer of his friend. Tubbo, the best friend, brother and partner in crime who helped a tyrant and has now bowed to another, he looks away from the portal and walks towards the bridge. Tommy, himself, the loud one, the annoying one, the unwanted, the exiled who killed Tommy, and he jumps.

First fanfic to be posted on the internet hope you liked it, there hopefully will be more to follow this and i can make something good