#the void claims. it drapes over me and holds me in a firm embrace

[ratcandy]

i need. to draw <- voice of a girl who isn't drawing

[littlefreya]

White Honey

Summary: Waking up the morning after you lost your virginity to Henry, you muse of the night before while feeling hungry for more.  

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 2K

Warning: Smut, loss of virginity, mentions of blood, mentions and slight oral, unprotected sex, bodily fluids.

A/N: Written by anon request. Slight, gentle-rough. Many thanks to @agniavateira​ for the beta!  Please remember to give feedback and reblog. 

Title: White Honey.

Pale sunlight shone through an ocean of white linens that draped around you securely. The surroundings still felt like a misty collection of dreams: mellow and saccharine, holding you in their embrace. Yet, a throbbing twinge at the apex of your body welcomed you into a newly-found awakening. 

You were no longer a virgin. 

Every muscle strained to remind you of said "stolen" innocence. Looking down your naked form, bruises peered in return. Dull, purple fingerprints covered your breasts, hips, and thighs; each mark indicating the blood vessels that ruptured under Henry's greed and desire. 

You stifled a pained groan, reaching a hand between your aching thighs to soothe another throb that quaked your sore mound. Henry tried to be tender, at least when he unravelled your seams and penetrated you for the first time. But his size and weight were both generous; once he began moving, all control was lost. He was drawn into you in a daze, adoring the reaches of you with every jerk of his hips. 

It was as if he just stepped into heaven and yearned to fill his soul with every inch of it. 

Sanctified in a primal dance, you made passionate love. His thrusts were slow but rough, unaware of his strength and of the fire in his blood that drove him to get more and more. Your words made no sense, neither did the beating of your heart. Though breathless gasps told a story: You needed this emotion to go on like an endless ocean, with your legs engulfing him tightly, pulling him deeper until your bodies became laced together in euphoria. 

A soft blush stained your cheeks at the memory, and your flesh felt ablaze again. The man who claimed your virginity was asleep by your side radiating warmth, inviting you to bask in his pungent musk. Feeling a soft longing, you sneaked a quick glimpse, watching how his furry chest rose slightly in his sleep. His scent was still on you, and yours was on him; it was as if you've been carried by the calming breeze, floating in a sea of creamy light.

A foolish smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head at yourself, feeling unbelievably immature and frivolously in love. You rolled on your side, wincing at the soreness in your core while determined to sneak out of his bed. 

A firm grip pulled you back beneath the covers into the hardness of Henry's broad chest. 

Low and pleasant, his groan tumbled in your ear like a bear awakening from his slumber. His torso entirely covered your spine, making your heart flutter as your skin grazed together, and his heat embraced you. 

"Morning kitten," Henry murmured, voice still husky from sleep.  

It was as if you were already together for a hundred years, his lips and hands felt familiar as they secured you. He dotted your exposed neck with languid kisses and cradled your jaw between his stark fingers that painted an invisible pattern on your jawline. 

"Hi," you replied coyly and grinned to yourself, trying to shake off an onslaught of giggles as his stubble tickled. Entangled limb to limb, you felt small. Henry wrapped himself around you, declaring you as his through the language of his body. His knees pushed between the back of your thighs, forcing your legs open which accidentally elicited a dry whimper of pain out of your throat. Embarrassment burned in your cheeks; it was enough that he made you cry out as he tore through your seal the very night before. There was no need for another embarrassing vocal reminder. 

"Aww sweetheart," Henry cooed, pushing you to lie flat on your back while he shuffled to lean on his elbow. His blue gaze focused on your blushing face, a comforting grin tugging his lips. He bumped his nose against yours before offering a chaste kiss.

"You're sore?" 

You nodded quietly, watching as he raised a hand and placed it on your sternum. The air left you at once, lungs shuddering as the pads of his fingers glided down your supple skin. His big blues followed, watching how you sunk and caved, bound to his strokes like a tamed lioness.

"Was I too rough?"

"No…" You replied and pressed your chin into his shoulder shyly. "Maybe a bit, but you're just…" You never thought your cheeks could burn this much. "You're really big, and everything kinda hurts right now."

"I'm so sorry," he answered sincerely as he leaned to brush his lips over your nipple ever so delicately. "I don't want to hurt you."

Your eyes fluttered shut, your breath suddenly shallow. It felt so natural to feel his mouth on your skin as if it always belonged there. Flowing down your abdomen, he left wet markings that felt chilled upon his departure while his large palm smoothed itself down your apex. Fingers etched at your ripe cherry, massaging gently to soothe your discomfort. 

Immediately, you flinched. No one touched you there, no one but Henry. And he was the man you pined for, perhaps your entire life, without even knowing so. 

When he held you, it was as if every cell came to life, tingling as both past and present blend into a sweet whirlpool of physical touch and emotions.

"Good?" He asked, his thumb sensually circling your pearl. 

"Good." You hummed, arching on the mattress as more kisses followed down the long trail of your torso. Henry attempted to take your distress away as he tasted your body. His loving lips coated every bruise while his palm rubbed your swollen womanhood protectively.  

You jolted as you felt something wet snake down your navel, briefly realizing it was his warm, skilful tongue that descended gracefully to the valley of your pelvis. Henry was specifically enthused to work the magic of his mouth on you, as proven many nights before. He made love to you with nothing but his tongue, drinking from the fountain between your thighs. 

No one made you come like this before, thrusting and grasping onto the sheets with desperation as another orgasm rocked its way through your body. In your mind, you screamed for him to fuck you already. But even if you did vocalize your desire, he'd wait.

Henry wanted you right when you both stood at the edge of frustration.  

Grasping your legs, he unwrapped you once again, folding them up while settling in-between. The mixture of brownish-pink dried blood and semen was evident beneath your behind. You hid your face beneath your hands and shook your head in protest as you peered down and noticed what Henry discovered. 

He chuckled at your response and pressed his lips to your inner thigh. "Don't worry", he said, trying to reassure you. "It's a nice something to remind me of my first time with you." 

"No, it's embarrassing." You retorted, your answer muffled by your palms. A moan broke out of your lips as Henry's mouth lined your inner thighs, dangerously inching toward your sacred entrance. You shivered as you felt him huffing against your slit.

"Hen…" you called out, your legs visibly trembling in his grasp. He hardly minded your state, intent on making the burn inside you subside. It only ignited a different type of warmth, and as his lips found yours. 

You felt the fire rise again, drenching your core with want, the void within calling to be filled. 

You ached for him.

"I need you," you begged, your fingers reaching the messy bundle of dark curls that grazed your torso as he held his mouth at the edge of your groin. "I need you inside me."

The air pushed out of your lungs as Henry dragged you down to meet him, massive and brooding. He soared from above, his groin resting between your spread legs. One hand pressed the side of your body while the other seized his shaft and bobbed it between your lust-coated folds.

"Are you sure?" he asked, but you felt as if it was nothing but mere courtesy as he already teased the tip of his erection at your now deflowered sleek. Panting with exhilaration, you nodded frantically, desperate for the cure of the sudden loneliness inside you. 

You were reduced to vocal begging, mewls coming out from your throat while your talons reached to scratch as his shoulders.

"Please, please."

Answering your plea, he pressed himself between your silken petals, carefully driving into your ripe haven. Slowly, an inch at a time, rediscovering the kingdom that he now owned. 

It still felt like the first time; your hot mouths hovered agape onto one another, exchanging loud gasps, astonished by the union. 

"Henry!" you mewled his name, your nails sinking deep into his back. Your canal was still too taut, too raw. The awkward sting inside made your thighs clench around his hips, and you couldn't help but tear. 

There was a war between pleasure and pain inside you.

Sheathed all the way in, he stilled inside you. Immediately, reached to kiss your temples, collecting the tears that escaped your closed eyes. He whispered something in your ear while wrapping his arm around your back and drew you near.

You couldn't make sense of it as all you could think of was how his large cock pulsated between your closing walls.

Opening your eyes, you saw him staring down at you with love burning in his gaze. His lips were a tad gaping, quivering ever so slightly as if he meant to speak but couldn't find the words.

There was no need to say it, though. You both felt it, and your response was the wider spread of your hips as you attempted to take him deeper, and the snake-like squirm as you pulled against him. Henry followed, his hand fisting your hair as he began to stroke you within, grunting as he felt the pull of your body.  

"You feel amazing," he panted as your walls wrapped around him rhythmically, sucking him deeper like an ocean sinking a ship, threatening to never let go. But he welcomed his demise, letting himself drown into your mysterious depths. 

The serene ocean of sheets turned into a humid whirlpool of sweat and groans. You pushed against him with desperation, a whimpering mess. Your breasts squeezed at the wall of his chest, and your bodies slammed with demand while your groin shifted upward. 

Fire began to spill from your gut as your clit grazed against the bone of his groin. Henry continued to move harder into you, stretching you to accommodate him with every push and shove. Yet, you could only feel your body fighting to grip onto him more. He groaned in your ear, his face buried in your neck while his body continued to crush you.

The stroke of his hairy abdomen against your belly made you shiver; you felt yourself being consumed by the flames that spread throughout your soul. Once more, you experienced the type of wholeness that made you sob.

This love made you weak and fearful of how intensely you felt. 

Blackness fell on your sight and behind your eyes; golden butterflies spread their wings as you ascended into euphoria. Coming undone you cried his name and reached to grab the cheeks of his behind, clutching them hard urging him to fill you.

"Come inside me," you begged, peering at him through a veil of tears. "I want you to fill me, please." 

Henry snapped, pulsating hot inside you. He rode you earnestly, the muscles of his behind flexing inward and you could sense him swelling bigger and pulsating as his climax drew near.

An onslaught of grunts and animalistic roars tore from his throat. Henry's chest lifted from yours, and he threw his head back as he spilled himself, pumping you full of his hot seed. His cum felt like a soothing warm lake of honey inside you, taking the very last tendrils of pain away. 

Humming to yourself you tried to relax, hugging the bear of a man on top of you. Your hearts still fluttered as the pleasure lingered, surrounding you both in a euphoric aura. As the air shook through your lungs and your tears dried, you kissed his cheek and moved your lips to whisper in his ear.

"I think I kinda like it when you hurt me..."  

Henry growled gently, shifting his head slightly to brush his lips against yours and bump your noses together.

"Well it's a good thing that we have all weekend to ourselves, we can stay in bed and test some... boundaries. Shall we?" 

_______

[twsted-and-tangled]

— tears of salt, drops of red

[♛] Pairing: Yandere Vil Schoenheit x Reader

[♛] Summary: When walking late one winter night, you have a close encounter with death. Unfortunately, it’s not your only one.

Warnings: contains slight mentions of blood, gore and character death. Read at your own risk. This is my first time posting so comments are appreciated. Also, can anybody tell me how to add a read more page divider on mobile?

“What did you think you were doing?”

It’s the first time you’ve seen Vil look anything but perfect and it shocks you more than you’d care to admit. His neat clothes are torn in various places, blood and muddy water staining the expensive fabric, destroying it beyond repair. A frigid gust of wind blows snowflakes into your faces and you shiver, not only from the biting cold but from icy menace that radiates from Vil. You carefully step past the limp furry bodies and bright crimson splotches that litter the snow and stop a few feet in front of the vampire. For a moment you both stare at each other.

“I’m sorry.” You say softly, barely a whisper above the howling breeze.

Vil snaps.

“Sorry? Sorry? Did you really think a worthless apology would fix anything?”

He stalks forwards and wraps a hand around your wrist, yanking you into his chest. You yelp as his nails dig into your skin but don’t try to resist. You know your mistake and how lucky you are to be alive. Few people are able to survive a wolf attack in the middle of winter. You’ve seen what remains of those poor souls— nothing more than a few scraps of cloth and bone fragments, surrounded by pools of red. It wasn’t a pretty sight. And tonight, you’d nearly met the same unfortunate fate.

“If I had been even a second later, the wolves would’ve ripped your leg off!” Vil practically snarls, sharp teeth bared and glinting in the moonlight. His arms lock you in their embrace, meshing your bodies together so tightly that your chest begins to hurt. Fingers tangle into your hair and tug hard enough that tears well up in your eyes.

You refuse to let them fall.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen!” Your voice cracks slightly, the terror and adrenaline fueling your sudden anger. “You think I wanted to be mauled and eaten alive by wild animals?”

“If you were thinking at all, you wouldn’t have gone into the forest this late at night! Were you planning on freezing to death as well in these?” He pinches at the thin material of your outfit and displays it in the air mockingly. You jerk your shirt downwards, no longer feeling the chill. Hot fury and embarrassment warms your cheeks, your heart pounding a furious beat against your ribs.

“Maybe I was! Maybe dying in the dark would be more tolerable than living with you!”

The howling wind stills and your words echo loudly in the sudden silence. Shit. Your mouth snaps shut and you fall quiet. You hadn’t meant to be so harsh but it was too late to take back what you said.

Vil freezes, his body stiffening up.

“Would you care to repeat that?” He sounds deceptively calm but his tightening grip proves otherwise. “You claim to prefer death to being with me?”

Oh god, he’s going to kill me.

You gasp for air as he slowly squeezes you, bones aching under his iron hold. You can barely breathe, let alone speak but Vil doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes stare blankly into the starless sky and suddenly, he tips his head back— and laughs. It’s a hollow, dark sound, void of any real humor or mirth. You shiver again, this time struggling harder to get free, but to no avail.

“Fine. If death is what you choose then who am I to deny you?”

His fingers tug at your hair once more, and keep pulling until the tender skin of your neck is exposed. You realize his intentions too late. In an instant, he sinks his fangs into your flesh and begins to drain your blood at a horrifically fast pace. The pain nearly brings you to your knees.

“Don’t... stop stop stop! Vil please, don’t do this. I didn’t mean it, please please stop!” You beg, clawing at his hands and pushing at his face. Vil bats away your feeble attempts and only bites down harder. Numbness replaces the searing agony and soon, you’re swaying around, barely conscious. Vil’s firm hold on your waist was the only thing keeping you from crashing to the ground. You almost wish he would let go.

Sometime later—maybe hours, maybe minutes, maybe even seconds— Vil unlatches his jaws from your throat. Your sight is blurry and dotted with black but you can still see the red liquid smeared across his mouth. It drips onto the white snow, joining the other bloodstains seeping into the earth.

You distantly wonder if it was better to be eaten by wolves. At least then people would know what became of you. Those who were torn apart by starving beasts didn’t seem so unfortunate anymore in comparison.

As your eyes drift shut, something wet presses against your lips and you gag. The taste of metal and rotting flowers imprints itself onto your tongue as Vil kisses you roughly, allowing his blood to enter your body and transform you into one of his kind. If you didn’t want to be with him in life, than you would spend an eternal death by his side.

“Now nothing will ever separate us.” Vil murmurs, gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear, a complete contrast to his earlier actions. “We will never be parted, my dear. Whether it be life or death, we’ll be together always.”

He brushes one last kiss against your cheek before draping your weak frame over his arms and lifting you up. Salty droplets prick at your eyes as your body is carried off into the shadowy trees. You try to stay conscious as long as you can, knowing that when you wake up again, you will no longer be human. No longer be alive or dead. No longer be anything except an immortal monster forever doomed to wander the night.

This time you let the tears fall.

[celsidebottom]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan Sims Additional Tags: Spoilers for 161!, Nightmares, The Extinction, The Lonely

Summary: When Martin dreams of the Extinction and Lonely, Jon sees his nightmares so vividly, and wants nothing more than to stop Martin from suffering any longer.

“Jon, come to bed.”

“I’m not tired.  Not like that.”

Martin stood in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning against the frame as he watched Jon fumble with one of the many tape recorders that followed him around.

“I know, but… you could still use some rest, even if you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t think it works like that anymore.”

Jon was still running his fingers over the buttons when a gently lobbed pillow thudded into his side.  He dropped the recorder and looked up at Martin, aghast.

“Jon, come on, please..."

Martin had a pouty look on his face with sincere worry shimmering in his eyes, and Jon sighed, the faint upturn of a smile at the edge of his lips.

“Yeah, alright.  Fair enough.”

After changing into his pajamas, Jon crawled into bed beside Martin and draped an arm over his waist.  

“Good night,” Martin yawned.  “Thank you.”

“Of course.  Get some sleep.”

Martin gave Jon a quick kiss on the forehead before rolling in the other direction, adjusting his pillows, and starting to let sleep claim him.   Jon moved a little bit closer and rested his head into Martin’s back while his breath slowed.

It wasn’t that Jon didn’t need rest.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to cuddle up beside Martin and hold him tight.  It was that he saw Martin’s dreams, if they could even be called that.

In the world he’d created, there were only nightmares.

La porte est la porte est la porte est la porte est la porte est la…

Martin’s subconscious raced through doors, some half-destroyed and others pristine, interspersed with dark, dilapidated streets.  And in those streets were corpses, mangled and decayed, mutated beyond recognition, embedded into the pavement, entombed in the walls.  Their hands almost reached out at Martin, begging him to save them, but there was no hope for them now.  Martin ran through one last, broken door, and there was only light.

Blinking, Martin, and by extension, Jon, stepped into a hot summer day, the heat casting up wavering lines around them.   Mechanical numbers buzzed in his ear and repeated themselves over and over and over and over.

 Three.  Zero.  Five.  Eight.  Three.  Nine.  Two.  Eight.  Four.  Six.

In the distance, Martin saw a house atop a small hill.  But the smoke that rose from it was not that of a chimney or a contained brushfire.  It is something else entirely, something unimaginable.

 Four.  Seven.  Four.  Nine.

Jon didn’t need to hear the whole sequence of numbers to know what the meaning was:

The World is Always Ending.

Martin’s subconscious faded away in the beeping of each number, their message both a revelation and a perpetually known truth at the same time.  When he looked again, he stood inside a hut that creaked and groaned like shifting metal, mixed with the sound of a distant scream that was ignored as something innocuous.  As Martin stepped toward the twisting statues made from refuse and forsaken objects, the block of concrete at his feet transformed and hissed.

With a shock, Jon pulled himself from the vision.  It was so easy to fall into Martin’s dreams, to see that fear right there inside him, but how much was he going to let Martin bear?  He could feel Martin’s pulse pounding beneath his embrace and the way his breath caught in his throat as the newly manifested snake lashed out at him and the statues turned toward him, liquid concrete pouring from what should have been their eyes and mouths.

Consciously, Jon tried to look away.  It took all his strength to do so, to reach out and shake Martin, to try and wake him from his nightmares.

“Martin, Martin, wake up, please.  Wake up.”

It was no use.  And he knew that when he tried.  It wasn’t the first time Jon had attempted to wake Martin when the fear of his nightmares caused his body to convulse in the night.  Or whatever passed as night anymore.

But Jon could never wake him.  Instead, all he could do was hold Martin a little tighter.

Instantly, Jon was thrust back into Martin’s dreams and the faint hum of carnival music sent a shiver up both their spines.  The people at the game stalls were gaunt and thin, prying apart bones before descending on their injured companion before the life even left his limbs.  And then, when their appetites were only just whetted, they turned toward Martin.

Just as the crowd descended, the scene shifted and changed.  The gentle sound of waves crashing on a shore came first, followed by an image of a beach, but all the colors were desaturated and empty.

It wasn’t the first time Martin dreamt of the Lonely; he’d had visions of it even before the world ended.

Same as before, Martin’s body shuddered under Jon’s embrace and faint, mumbled words escaped his lips in the waking world.

“No… I can’t go back.  I won’t.  Don’t… don’t make me.  Please…”

A quiet sob broke from Jon as he heard Martin beg.  The weakness in his voice, the frailty…

“Wake up, Martin, please.  You’re not there.  It’s not real,” Jon pleaded even though he knew it wouldn’t help.

He’d seen enough terror replayed in his mind, he knew that such platitudes, even if spoken during the consciousness of day, did little to help allay the fear.  Every statement he’d ever read used to show itself in his dreams, but now they didn’t need to – there was enough fear in the air to sate his monstrous appetite at all hours.

It made sense that Martin would dream of the Extinction.  Especially when the world around them was so warped from the way it had been just a few days ago.

And even Jon used to dream of the Lonely, before he no longer needed to sleep.  Visions of fog, the din of static, the sight of Martin turning away from him and disappearing into the void…

Feeling Martin beside him was the only thing that got him through such nightmares.  So, as Jon was unable to wake him, he held onto Martin even tighter, hoping that his presence would be some small comfort when Martin awoke.

They didn’t have to eat anymore, he didn’t have to sleep, why did they still have to dream?  Why did Martin still have to suffer?  He’d been through so much, and yet he was still hurt again and again…

The tears blurred Jon’s vision and he became acutely aware of how closely he held Martin, how his heart raced and his limbs twitched as he tried to find some escape from the Lonely in his mind.  Jon pressed his forehead against Martin’s back and let himself cry, because there was nothing more that he could do, except watch and wait.

“Jon?  Jon, are you okay?”

Martin extracted himself from Jon’s grip and rolled over to face him.  His eyes were alert even though he’d just awoken from a terrible, terrible dream, and he pulled Jon into a firm embrace, before letting go only slightly, his leg gently draped over Jon’s as he brushed away his tears.

“What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Martin, I’m so, so sorry.  You’ve been through so much and I can’t help, I can’t make it better.  I did all this; it’s all my fault, I’m sorry…”

“Jon, please…”  Martin cradled Jon’s head with one hand while the other gently rubbed his shoulder.  A soothing motion, even if it did little to take away the pain.  “I’m guessing you, uh, saw my dreams again?  Bad stuff, huh?”

“You really don’t remember them?”

Martin shook his head.

“You’re lucky.  The other fear I see from everything happening now, the thing that scares me most about it is that it doesn’t scare me.  But with you… I don’t want you to suffer anymore.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Martin insisted softly as Jon let out another heavy sob, even as a tear fell from his own eye.  “The dreams might be bad, but at least I get to wake up and see you here.  For a few moments, then, everything is okay – except when you’re crying, of course, but you know.”

Jon choked out a chuckle and couldn’t help but smile.

“When I wake up and see you, or just feel you beside me, there’s a second where none of the pain matters and I can forget that the world is in such a messed-up state.  I just… I wish that you could find a reprieve like that.  Even for the smallest moment.”

“It doesn’t all go away,” Jon muttered.  “It doesn’t ever stop entirely.  But… it gets quieter when I hold you.”

Martin pulled Jon in tight and wrapped his arms around him, and Jon pressed himself into Martin’s chest.

In a soft whisper, Martin urged, “Then don’t ever let go.”