#the world is a blood sucking creature of the night

[magical-reid]

Into the Breach

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

Prompt: 29 Prompt: 7: “Go with me?” “Only if you hold my hand.”

Summary: In the eerie, desolate landscape of the Upside Down, you and Steve face a terrifying creature together, fighting side by side with unwavering determination. After surviving the battle, Steve’s quiet confession and the comfort of his embrace make you realize that, no matter the dangers around you, you’ll always have each other.

The ground was sticky, soft underfoot, as if the earth itself were holding its breath. Tendrils of sickly gray mist slithered around your ankles, winding higher with each passing second. The air was colder than it should’ve been for a late June night in Hawkins, and it carried the sharp tang of something otherworldly—a scent that stung like ozone and blood.

You couldn’t stop staring at the gate.

It pulsed like a living wound carved into the earth, jagged and raw. In the dim light of the flashlights scattered around you, it glowed a deep, menacing crimson. You could hear it too—the faint, awful sound of something breathing.

And beyond it, there was something else. Waiting.

Steve stood beside you, gripping the bat in one hand, the spikes he’d hammered into it catching the light in quick, deadly flashes. His jaw was tight, his hair wild and messy like he’d run his hands through it one too many times tonight.

“We don’t have to do this,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

His eyes snapped to you. Hazel and honey-brown, full of fire and determination, but softening just a fraction when they met yours.

“Yes, we do,” he said, voice low, steady. “We have to stop this thing before it hurts anyone else.”

Dustin’s frantic voice crackled through the walkie in Steve’s back pocket. Something about Demobats, something about Nancy’s group needing time to set the trap. You barely processed the words. All you could focus on was the gate.

And the way Steve had shifted closer to you.

“We go together, alright?” he said, breaking through the silence. His hand found your arm, a warm, grounding pressure that you hadn’t realized you needed until now.

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to tell him you’d go anywhere he asked. But the truth was, you were scared—scared of what waited for you on the other side, scared of not coming back.

“Go with me?” he asked, his voice soft now, laced with something fragile and raw.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His face was open, honest, like he was letting you see every bit of him—the fear he wouldn’t say out loud, the hope that you’d say yes.

Your heart thudded painfully in your chest.

“Only if you hold my hand,” you said, barely above a whisper.

Something shifted in his expression. His grip on the bat faltered for half a second before his free hand reached for yours. His palm was rough, his fingers warm, and the way he held on—like he wasn’t planning on letting go—made something inside you ache.

“Deal,” he said, a faint, crooked smile tugging at his lips despite the situation.

You felt a little steadier, a little braver, as his thumb brushed over the back of your hand. He squeezed once, firm and reassuring, before leading you toward the gate.

The edges of the rift crackled as you approached, heat and cold and something electric making the hair on your arms stand on end.

“Stay close,” Steve said over his shoulder, his voice gruffer now, his shoulders squared.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you replied, gripping his hand tighter as the two of you stopped at the edge. The sound of growling—low and guttural—echoed from the other side. Your stomach turned, but Steve’s hand didn’t falter in yours.

“On three,” he said, glancing at you one last time. “One… two…”

You sucked in a breath as he pulled you forward, the world twisting and cracking as you plunged into the Upside Down together.

The Upside Down was colder than you remembered. The air was thick with ash, swirling in lazy, malevolent spirals, and the trees loomed jagged and dead. It reeked of rot and decay, the kind of smell that clung to your skin and sat heavy in your lungs. Steve still hadn’t let go of your hand, and you hadn’t asked him to.

You could feel the heat of his body beside you, a stark contrast to the icy void of this place. His grip on the bat was steady, his knuckles white as he surveyed the shadows around you. Every snap of a branch, every distant screech, set your heart racing.

And then you saw it.

It emerged from the fog with a slow, deliberate gait, its claws clicking against the ground as it moved. It was grotesque, all sinew and bone, with a twisted, too-long body and a maw filled with rows of serrated teeth. Its eyes—if you could call them that—glowed faintly, like dying embers, fixed on you and Steve with unrelenting hunger.

Steve shifted in front of you instinctively, his body a shield.

“Okay,” he said, his voice low and calm in a way that didn’t match the tension rippling through him. “Here’s the plan: I’ll distract it. You—”

“No way,” you interrupted, stepping beside him. “I’m not hiding while you get yourself killed.”

“Y/N—”

“We do this together,” you said firmly, gripping the crowbar in your hand. Your voice wavered, but your resolve didn’t.

He stared at you for a beat, something flickering in his eyes that might’ve been admiration—or maybe exasperation. “Fine. Together. Just… don’t do anything stupid.”

The creature lunged before you could respond, its claws raking the air where you’d stood seconds before. Steve shoved you aside, the movement fluid and practiced, as he swung the bat in a wide arc. The spikes connected with a sickening crunch, but the thing barely flinched, whipping its head toward him with a guttural snarl.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

With a shout, you drove the crowbar into its side, the metal sinking into the tough, rubbery flesh. It screeched, its body twisting unnaturally as it lashed out. You barely had time to duck as its claws sliced through the air above you.

“Y/N!” Steve’s voice was sharp, panicked, as he swung the bat again, aiming for its head. This time, the spikes found their mark, and the creature staggered back, its movements jerky and erratic.

You scrambled to your feet, adrenaline surging through you as Steve barked, “Go for the legs!”

Together, you moved in sync. You struck low while he struck high, the sound of metal meeting flesh ringing out in the desolate landscape. The creature howled, a high, keening sound that made your ears ring, but it was faltering now, its movements sluggish and desperate.

Steve delivered the final blow. With a shout, he drove the bat into its head, the spikes burying deep. The creature let out one last, pitiful shriek before collapsing in a heap.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the Upside Down.

Steve dropped the bat, his chest heaving as he turned to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice hoarse. His hands found your shoulders, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you managed, though your legs felt like jelly, and your hands were trembling. “Are you—”

He didn’t let you finish. He pulled you into a fierce hug, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. For a moment, all you could do was stand there, your face pressed against his chest, listening to the wild hammering of his heart.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he murmured, his voice thick with something you didn’t dare name.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you said, trying to sound lighthearted, but the crack in your voice betrayed you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still on your arms. His face was smeared with grime, a cut on his cheek oozing blood, but his eyes—those warm, honey-colored eyes—were soft, shining with something raw and unspoken.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I scared you?” you shot back, your lips twitching into a weak smile. “You’re the one who went full monster bait out there.”

A laugh burst out of him—unexpected, short, but genuine. And then he did something you weren’t expecting. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours.

“Thanks for having my back,” he murmured.

“Always,” you replied, your voice steady now.

You stayed like that for a moment, the world around you fading into a dull hum. Here, in the middle of the Upside Down, surrounded by ash and decay and death, you found a sliver of peace.

And when Steve’s hand found yours again, you held on just as tightly as he did.

[suggiesug]

regardless of all my malcontent i am but a rodent in a containment chamber 😔

[diejager]

Yandere Pyramid what if he gets reader pregnant Just go crazy with this hahaha

(IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE I DON'T KNOW BUT WITH HIS AMOUNT OF CUM I WOULDN'T DOUBT IT)

Paring : YANDERE Pyramid Head x fem!reader

Cw: smut, possible NON-CON/DUB-CON, tentacle tongue, possessive behaviour + sex, breeding, pregnancy, creampie, belly bulge, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 674

He'd go wild at the idea of knocking you up, watching your soft stomach bloat with a new life and your breasts swell, nipples leaking milk that he could suck until his kid came out. He'd fuck you until you get pregnant, stuffing you with his cum and his cock, keeping every little swimmers inside your bulging heat. He liked watching you strain around his girth, walls twitching and closing tightly around him, your cries echoing under his metal pyramid.

It's a ritual, every night, any spare moment, he'd have you sprawled under him, rutting his length into your red, swollen cunt until you grew limp, a little cumdump for him. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, pushing against your womb's entrance and pumped generous load after generous load into your warm, fertile womb, a virgin to childbirth.

Whether he had you under him, pounding away the hours of the night - or day if he felt like it - over him, riding his thick and veiny cock until your slick covered his whole abdomen, or against a wall, rattling the structure with his punching thrusts when felt especially feral; he made sure to cover you in his musk, body smelling of him with reminders of last night, dark bruises marring your skin.

They were brandings of the finest he could give (other than his seed branding your spasming cunt as his little cockdrunk survivor.) to show others who you belonged to. He's had his possessive strikes, growling at killers and survivors who got too close to you for his liking, waving his broadsword and shaking the ground in strong ripples.

Pyramid Head was exceptionally possessive, being a creature of grief and regret created for a sole purpose, granting him nothing to his name or soul to own. Such a situation makes a person - any person - possessive of their things, like a child deprived of toys and love, they grow possessive and careful.

And to add a child, some would think he'd hate his child for taking most of your attention, your affection and your time, but this child was from yours and his blood, a creation of yours. It was the second thing he could call his own, a living being - beside you - he could care for and nurture, it played with a more domestic side of him. It would simply mean he'd take more drastic and scary measures.

Just a big, broad Pyramid Head growling at anyone with his equally big toy in hand, truly the scariest guard dog in The Entity's world (Guard dog privileges+).

Extra: during the pregnancy

Man is oblivious to the struggle of women, especially pregnant ones. Mood swings and odd cravings make him scratch his head in confusion. Was it safe to eat pickles, then peanut butter and tuna in a sitting? Would it be bad if you woke up in discomfort and your stomach was ready to empty itself?

He's as clueless about childbirth as a baby, every step had to have help from The Nurse and The Doctor, both having some experience with pregnancies in their previous lives. Reluctantly, he'd call for them once he sees you hunched over a bowl, puking yesterday's food. If there was a step-by-step book about pregnancies, perhaps a 101 tips about pregnancies for noobs, Pyramid Head would need it, he needs all the help he can get.

He knows not fuck you, naturally, for the safety of his child. That, however, doesn't stop him from pleasing you, using his thick fingers to pump and curl into your upper wall and flick your swollen clit when your hormones act up and you get horny; or he'd tonguefuck you into overstimulation, with his tentacle-like tongue that slithers from under his mask, long and wet. He's agile with it, twisting his tongue in every sense and curling it into a ball to fuck you.

He's talented with his cock, his fingers and his tongue, nothing can stop him from caring for your needs, he's skilled in many ways.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Vampire // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Vampire!Gojo x fem!reader, gore, nsfw, mdni, blood kink if you squint, masochism, unprotected sex

Synopsis: Creatures lurk in the night. A particular white-haired one takes a liking to you.

An: I’m so excited to start this challenge with you all! I’ve decided to call it Monstertober (there will be one exception to the monster rule LOL srry).

Overpopulation and a deficiency in food had forced your world into an age of evolution. It started off slow as most evolutions do. It started as just one case: the case of Ryomen Sukuna, the first vampire.

He didn't need food to stay alive. No, he was completely immune to aging, and he only craved one thing: blood. It was noted in his case file that he would drink any type of blood, but he had a strong liking towards human blood. One pint of blood, which is a sustainable amount to lose, was enough to satiate Sukuna for a month. However, vampires since then have gotten way more greedy, sucking humans completely dry recklessly.

Then, they started popping up everywhere. Some were bitten, but the "supreme" were the ones who naturally evolved into vampires without being turned by one.

Humans were now not at the top of the food pyramids. For the first time ever, humans were the prey. To help with the overpopulation, the group of the undead proposed a solution.

Cull the herd.

Once every three months, vampires were allowed to hunt humans for sport. Of course, this wasn't the only time they killed or fed off humans. Rogue vampires feasted upon human blood anytime they wanted, but the more civilized vampires waited for the culling to drink from a human.

Bunkering down for the night, you closed yourself into a small closet in the innermost portion of your house. You made sure every door and window was locked, and you prayed to whatever deity was out there that the vampires wouldn't bother you.

They must've not heard your prayers.

You were clutching a wooden stake in your palm as you heard the crashing through your window. Your other hand covered your mouth, trying to mask your breathing. It was no real use though. The vampire could practically smell you from outside your house.

He effortlessly ripped your closet door right off the hinges. His light blue hair was long, and there were stitches all along his body. He admired with with a wild grin and devilish heterochromatic eyes.

"I seem to have found myself a treat!" He claps his hands together, acting as if he just won a claw machine. "Come, darling. You and I both know you're not going to use that stake."

Your entire body trembles as you clasp the stake harder, aiming it at him. "I'll do it!" You cry out, backing yourself further in the corner.

"This is futile. Don't make it harder than it has to be. I'll try not to kill ya." The vampire gives a wide eerie smile, and his sharp pointed fangs were immediately noticeable. You could immediately tell that he was lying straight through his teeth.

You have to do something or else he'll just toy with you like a mouse. You charge straight for him, rearing the stake back to try to stab it through his heart.

"So rude!" He scoffs as he effortlessly grabs your wrist and yanks it above your head. Your arm almost feels like it's going to rip out of your socket.

"Let go of me!" You shriek as you try to yank your arm back, but he was too strong. His hand only tightened around yours, forcing the stake out of your hand. It falls to the ground with a thud.

"You're lucky you're worth the trouble, brat, or I would've already killed you!" He yells, getting more frustrated with your struggling. His head leans near your neck, and you're entire body tenses. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as he takes his time sniffing you. You let out a pathetic cry as you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the bite.

This was it.

Before you can even react, your arm is let go, and the sound of crashing catches your attention. Quickly opening your eyes, you see another vampire has the blue-haired one pinned to the wall away from you by his head. The new vampire was much more built than the first one. He had a head of white hair, but you couldn't see his face yet.

Until, he turns to you as his hand crushes the other vampire's head into the wall. It practically explodes like popping a really full tick. Blood and brain matter splatter against your walls.

Your body is completely frozen by fear as you can't help but stare at the new vampire's eyes. His blue eyes beamed in the moonlight, almost glowing in the dark. He's devastatingly handsome with a sculpted jaw and nose. He had long white eyelashes and full lips. He slowly allows his hand to drop, allowing for the vampire's deceased body to slump against the ground.

Small whimpers escape your mouth as you search for any conviction to run. You have to get away from him. If you had little chance of surviving that first vampire, then you had no chance of surviving this one.

He leisurely walks up to you, eyes never leaving yours until he's right in front of you. He then inspects your neck closely. "Are you hurt?" He asks calmly as if he didn't just end someone's life so casually.

"N-no.." Your voice meekly trembles out. Your knees are practically rattling together from fear.

"Do you have a death wish..?" He asks as he leans away from your neck. His eyes are nearly half-lidded as he looked at you with such a bored expression. He then leans down and picks up the wooden stake that you were holding on to.

"No, I-" You go to explain yourself, but he rudely cuts you off.

"Stab me." He instructs while handing the stake back over to you.

Your mind is reeling, unable to comprehend why he would give you permission to use his weakness against him. "What..?"

"I said stab me. If you don't have a death wish, stab me." He repeats as he tucks his arms behind his back, and he even leans his chest out to you.

You look at the wooden stake in your hand, and you look up at the vampire who just killed one of his own to save you? You raise your hand unconvincingly, and you completely clam up.

"You don't have it in your heart, do you?" He asks as he stares at the stake in your hand. "Even when given the permission, you can't find it within you to kill."

Your head drops in shame. If this mysterious vampire wasn't there, you'd be dead from the blue-haired vampire thanks to your noncommittal attack against him.

"Foolish." He clicks his tongue disapprovingly before snatching the stake from your hand and diving it into his own chest.

"Wait-! W-what-?" You shout in a panic, watching as red liquid slowly starts to stain his white shirt. You immediately move to his aid, yanking the stake out of his chest. "Why would you do that? Do you have a death wish?" Your hands press harshly against his chest trying to stop the bleeding.

"Foolish human." He repeats as his other hand comes up and gently pets your head. "Wooden stakes are a myth, sweets. They do nothing to us." He reveals quietly as his large hand continues to softly rub your head. "See for yourself."

Confused, you slowly lift your hands, and you see the wound had already closed. His body had healed it that quickly.

"I don't... Everyone knows that's your weakness.." You pout as you look at his blood along your hands.

"It's a myth that we allow you to believe, so you all continue your futile efforts to stop us." He reveals as he takes your hands and gently cleans them off with a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket.

"Then why tell me...?" You quietly ask, feeling your heart pound in your chest from a mix of nervousness and adrenaline.

"It's not like you have any real intention to kill me." He flashes a smile at you, and he tosses the wooden stake into your fireplace. "You don't want to kill, yet you don't want to die. Are you looking to score a role as a feeder?"

Your body shudders from the idea. Certain vampires kept "feeders", also known as humans who voluntarily offer up their blood for whenever their vampire is hungry. There was mutual benefit for both parties involved. The feeder was practically granted with protection from all vampires, and the vampire no longer had to hunt for food.

"I'm not a farm animal." You retort as you cross your arms over your chest.

"No, perhaps not." He muses as he slowly tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "But you're not a fighter either, sweets. Unfortunately, this world wasn't made for people like you." His finger tips delicately stroke your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. "Do yourself a favor and agree to be my feeder. I can't protect you if not."

"What-!?" You shout a bit too loudly, and he gives you a disapproving look.

"I didn't stutter. Be my feeder and live, or stay here and die. Your choice."

You stare at him with a slightly frightened look. Your eyebrows are pinched together, and your lips are in a small pout as your consider his options. He was right. If you stayed behind, you would most certainly die. The only reason another vampire hasn't came to eat you alive is because they can sense his strong aura in your home, warding the others away.

"I... okay, f-fine. I'll be your.... feeder or whatever." You finally mutter out, and he sticks his hand out to you.

"It's a binding vow then. You be my feeder, and I'll protect you from all harm that comes your way." You stare at his hand and take a deep breath. A binding vow that's broken only ends in death, but what choice did you have? Your hand reaches out and shakes his in a defeated matter.

"Great. Glad that's over. Hop on." He immediately instructs as he turns his back towards you. He bends his knees and holds his arms behind him, obviously wanting you to get on his back.

"What-?" You immediately ask, taking a step back from him.

"Well, we aren't staying here, sweets, and I don't know about you, but something tells me that uber drivers aren't going to be out tonight." He sasses as he urges you to get on his back. It was the start of your new life.

As you slowly climb onto his back, his hands hold onto your the backs of your thighs, securing your body to him tightly. Your arms wrap around his neck. "Oh, by the way, I would've protected you for free." He smirks before running a lightspeed away from your home, knocking the breath from your lungs.

*** *** ***

Being Satoru's feeder wasn't all bad. It's been a few months since you two had met during the culling. You've been slowly getting use to living with him.

For one, he's filthy rich, and he has no real use for money. He lives in an entirely too big mansion that's completely paid off. He even has kitchen staff and cleaning staff to take care of the house for him.

For two, he's so... vain and out of touch with reality.

Since he's taken you in, you've learned that Satoru is one of the supreme. His body had naturally evolved in the predator-like state he's in. Though, he claims that he was very strong before evolving as well.

Not only is he a supreme, he's well-known in the vampire community apparently, which you find that hard to believe considering he never leaves his mansion unless it's to attend a night event. You were allowed to leave. It's not like you were his prisoner or anything, but he demanded to be with you no matter where you went to protect you.

You've gathered crumbs of information about him from the kitchen staff and maids, but Satoru was an open book himself as well. He would answer whatever question you proposed, though you couldn't distinguish how much of his answer he was boasting.

The feeding was surprisingly easy to get use to. Satoru rarely fed on you, and when he did, he was extra careful each time. His fangs would sink into your wrist, and he'd drink just enough to get by before promptly releasing you.

He fed at night mostly, which made sense because of his waking hours. He had given you your own chamber in the house when you agreed to be his feeder, and he'd quietly slip into your room at night. By the sixth or seventh time, your body had grown accustomed to his nighttime visits. You'd unconsciously offer up your wrist when you heard the door creak open in your sleep.

Tonight was like any of those nights. Around three in the morning, Satoru quietly slipped into your bedroom. His stomach ached in pain from hunger. He would only drink what he absolutely needed, never quite quenching his thirst for you as he was very cautious with you're well-being. He was practically starving himself.

You were peacefully sleeping in your bed, looking as angelic as ever. He admired your face while you were blissfully unaware. His hand raked through your hair gently, and you stirred just enough to hold your wrist out to him.

If he wasn't so damn hungry, he'd take his time admiring your beauty, but his stomach was grumbling as he stood over your bed. Bending down to your wrist, he took a deep breath of your delicious scent. You probably had no idea that your blood type was rare - the sweetest amongst humans. He got so damn lucky running into you during the culling.

His lips pressed a gentle kiss against the thin skin of your vulnerable wrist. He then pressed another, more sensual kiss into your skin right against the pulse point of your wrist. Feeding was such an intimate act between vampires and consensual feeders, and the fact that you allowed him to do this while you're at your most vulnerable drove him completely mad.

"Sa-toru?" Your voice was a breathy yawn as you must've woken up from his incessant kissing.

"Shhh, sweets. Go back to sleep. I'm just... going to drink a bit.." He whispers softly as he looks up at your sleepy face.

"Drink or make out with my wrist?" You ask with a lazy smile, causing him to chuckle a bit.

"Maybe a bit of both if my feeder allows it." He retorts with a grin before his stomach loudly grumbles.

You sit up slightly as you look at him with a confused gaze. "You must be really hungry." You softly murmur before scooting over in your bed and patting a spot for him. "I'll go back to sleep... just take what you need."

Satoru almost feels like a nervous teenage boy when you invite him into your bed. He doesn't object though, slipping between the sheets next to your warm body. He nearly purrs in contentment. It had been far too long since he had felt warm.

Your body nuzzles into his side, and you gently press your wrist up to his lips. Your eyes had already slipped back closed again.

"Sleepyhead." He muses with a soft smile. His stomach angrily growls at him once more, and he finally decides not to waste anymore time. He flutters his eyes closed, and his fangs pierce through your skin. He's immediately rewarded with the taste of your sweet blood, and he almost instantly feels rejuvenated.

He gently suckles the blood out from your wrist. His hand was idly stroking yours as he drank from you. The air in the room feels so soothing and familiar between the two of you.

He only holds your wrist for few minutes before forcing himself back away from your sweet taste. His tongue gently laps at the the small puncture wounds on your wrist, hoping to soothe the pain slightly. He's still painfully hungry, but he knows he can live off of what little bit he took.

You flutter your eyes open to look at him - having been pretending to sleep so he wouldn't dillydally. "That wasn't nearly enough." You say as you furrow your eyebrows. His stomach growls to only further your suspicions.

"Who are you to tell me what's enough?" Satoru laughs off your concern as he goes to slide out of your bed.

"I'm being serious, Toru." You say as your hand clasps onto his shirt, preventing him from leaving your bed. "Don't think I haven't noticed how sluggish you are recently."

"Who are you calling sluggish? I'm plenty energetic." He argues back as he looks down at you.

"Toru, please. I'm asking you to feed." You pout up at him. "I'm seriously fine. You never ever take a feasible amount."

The sight of you - a human - caring so passionately about him and his needs has his face turning red within seconds. He looks down at your small pout, and he finally relents.

"Only because you said please. Not because I need it or anything like that." He gripes as he gets back comfortable next to you. "Other wrist. That one will be too sore if I bite it again." He instructs, and you offer up your other wrist. However, the positioning is quite uncomfortable to maintain. He'd have to twist your arm to reach your wrist.

"What about my neck..?" You quietly offer, even pulling back your hair to reveal the flesh of your neck. He's almost immediately drooling at the sight.

"The neck hurts worse than the wrists do. Are you sure you want that? It also leaves quite the mark." He informs you, but you've already made up your mind. Your body is turned facing his, and your head is already tilted for him.

"Neck is fine." You answer calmly as you flutter your eyes closed again, trusting him with your life so willingly as if he isn't some monster.

Satoru carefully dips his head down between your shoulder and your jaw, and he once again kisses your skin. It's almost compulsory to do so. A pleasured hum emits from your throat as your hands find his silky white hair.

It's taking every ounce of self control he has not to pounce on you and ravish you in more ways than just one. The primal urges to feed and fuck consume his brain entirely.

He tries to push those thoughts aside as he bites down on your neck. A small moan escapes past your lips, and he can't quite tell if it's a pained or pleasured one. Either way, his dick painfully throbs within the confinements of his clothes.

Maybe it's a placebo, but he swears that your blood is sweeter around your neck. He assumes it has to be because it's closer to your heart. He groans as he sucks the blood from your neck, taking in more substance from you.

The room is filled with small moans and muffled grunts between the two of you. Your neck is incredibly sensitive in the best way possible, making each suckle feel divine from his mouth. Your body shivers in anticipation as you fee your arousal growing - an insatiable heat between your thighs.

Satoru isn't immune either. He can feel your pulse, smell your scent, and hear your pretty moans. He knows the effect he's having on you, and it only works to make him even more horny than he already was.

When your hips start to subtly rock against his body, searching for any friction, all of his self control leaves his body. He immediately moves to pin you down beneath him with his fangs still buried into your neck.

Your hands shamelessly claw at his back through his shirt, and your legs wrap around his waist. Small needy whimpers and whines escape you.

He knows he should stop soon. He's drank almost a pint from you, but his mind is struggling to make his body cooperate. He can't get enough from you. He craves to devour you whole.

"Please.." Your small breathy plea catches his attention as your hips lift up to meet his again, and a new craving takes over his mind.

He pulls from your neck, but he doesn't lap at the bite wounds. Your blood freely trickles down your neck. His breath hitches in his throat as he swears he's never seen anything more erotic in his life.

His hands immediately go to the waist band of your pajama pants as he feels like he's in a frenzy. He can't be bothered to consider the logistics of fucking you and how he might unintentionally hurt you. His brain is only focused on getting his dick into you as quickly as possible.

Ripping off your pants and panties in one solid tug, he throws your discarded clothing onto the floor. "Satoru.." Your small voice whines as you lift your hips up.

"'m gonna take care of you, promise." He mumbles as his one of his hands sink between your thighs and the other works to get his own pants off of him. "Have to prep you first." His pants and boxers hit the ground.

"N-no.." You whimper out, desperate for his length already.

“Yes sweets.” He argues as he settles between your legs. “I’ll hurt you if not.”

“Want you to hurt me..”

“Don’t…” He has to close his eyes to erase the image of you looking down so pitifully, asking him to hurt you. “Don’t say that to me..”

“Please Toru~” You whine as he’s thumb starts to rub gentle circles around your clit. A wet clacking noise filled the room as you were already soaked.

“Such a fuckin’...” He grunts as he gives into your sweet pleas. His hand guides his tip towards your fluttering cunt. “‘m not gonna be able to stop if you let me do this..”

“D-don’t stop.. I want this, please..”

His eyes fixate on your blood stained neck from where he fed on you just moments ago, and he leans his head down to lap up the sweet blood against your skin. “I warned ya.”

Satoru forces his length into your entrance, stretching you out around his size. Your fingernails dig into his back as you let out cries of pain and pleasure. He hurts in just the best way, leaving you wanting more.

“Shit.. feel s’good, sweets.” He moans as he buries himself deeper. Your wet heat slowly envelops him, squeezing around him like a vice. “So fuckin’ wet and tight for me… my good girl.” He purrs as his hips pull back before he sinks into you once again.

“Hah… oh god.. t-too big.” You manage to moan out as you can practically feel your heartbeat in your cunt. The room fills with squelching noises as Satoru rolls his hips slowly at first.

Your gummy walls squishing around him drives him absolutely feral. His caution is out the window as he pummels into you repeatedly. The headboard of your bed smacks harshly against your wall, and your poor mattress wails in agony as he fucks you into it.

“What are you so.. ngh~ .. wet for, huh? Love me using your body, don’t you?” He grunts as his hips snap back and forth. Your eyes start to cross as you swear you can feel him in your throat.

“Y-yes!” You pathetically cry in response. Your back arches up off the bed as you feel yourself already nearing your orgasm. “T-toru-! I.. I think I’m gonna..” You stumble over your words, unable to formulate what you’re trying to say.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.. ‘s okay.” He slurs into your ear, completely pussy drunk already. In his defense, he hasn’t gotten any in a long, long time.

“Fuuuck~! Ah~ I’m coming..” You cry out to him as your hands grip onto his shoulders. Your toes literally curl your poor cunt clenches around him, juices roll down his cock so leisurely from your arousal.

“Yeeaahh, that’s it.” He purrs as he rides out your orgasm. “Atta girl.”

You slowly start to relax as you come down from your high until you see Satoru’s hands gripping the headboard. “You can take more, can’t you?” He asks in a way where it doesn’t even sound like a question. He’s telling you that you’re gonna take more.

Satoru has to be conscious about how much of his strength he’s using. He’s one small accident away from ripping your headboard off your bed frame.

Still, he uses the headboard as leverage to fuck you harder. “Fuck. C’mere.” He growls as he gathers your thighs and places your legs on his shoulders, putting you in a mating press.

His thrusts don’t relent in the slightest. His heavy balls smack against your plush ass with each stroke. “‘m never letting you go, sweets.” He mumbles as his thrusts start to falter. “… gonna have to pry me away from this pussy. She’s all mine.”

You’re completely blissed out, only able to moan and agree with his delusional ramblings.

“Mine.” He declares again as he rails himself into you. His tip kisses your womb with each harsh thrust. His pleasure starts to coil in his stomach as he’s so close. The headboard completely snaps as he forgets to manage his strength while he’s on the cusp of an orgasm.

Not even stopping for a moment, Satoru leans his head down, and he bites down into your neck again. Your sweet delectable blood coats his teeth and tongue before he pulls away. He bites again and again, completely marking up your neck and shoulders before be spills himself deep inside you. “God… fuck!” He groans as he releases your shoulder.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he glances down at his seed trickling down from your pretty hole. “You’re makin’ a mess, sweets.” He comments with a lazy smirk before admiring the artwork he created on your neck and shoulders.

You glance up at him with poor needy eyes. Your cheeks are tear stained from the intense pleasure mixed with the bites. His cock twitches pitifully inside you from the sight.

“You can take another round, right? Need to use your cute cunt just a bit more.” Satoru groans as he’s already started fucking his cum back into your hole.

[thewulf]

Little One || Aragorn

Summary: Request -I had an Aragorn request that I wanted to send you; if it’s something you’d be interested in writing I know it’ll be perfect (but if it doesn’t strike your fancy I completely understand)!! After reading your fic with the orc attack I was thinking about how Aragorn would respond to reader being injured defending the hobbits... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the request @fluentmoviequoter !! Had so much fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) Kinda angsty but hella fluffy as always :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

TW: orcs, talks of blood, arrows, getting shot, yelling, angsty

You and Strider had been Rangers together for the better part of fifty years now. The two of you quickly found solace in the other. The two of you just seemed to compliment the other. What he lacked you picked up for him and vice versa. It wasn’t often he could find somebody who just understood him. So, he decided to keep you close but always safe.

He did what he wanted after all. He had a high enough ranking quickly. You were assigned nearly every patrol, raid, quest whatever the hell it was he did it with you. And you learned quicker than you had ever thought even possible with his aid. He wasn’t brutal on you, but he was not easy by any stretch of the imagination. He wanted you alive, so he trained you to stay that way. He had to be a little mean. A little too much sometime. For that was the real world. You couldn’t go out in the world as freely as one once could.

So, when Gandalf proposed the deal of getting the Hobbits from Bree to Rivendell he had agreed on the condition you could come with them. He wasn’t willing to leave you in some random village town in Eriador. No, he would never do that. Gandalf had agreed without a second thought thinking it was a good idea to have two Rangers instead of one.

You had decided fairly quickly that the Nazgûl was on your list of least favorite things in middle-earth you’d had the pleasure of coming across. You could deal with spiders and orcs buts these creatures were eerily different. Ice cold and terrifying, soul sucking. But you needed to remain stoic in the face of it all to help the Hobbits. The poor things were shaking they were so terrified. You’d tried stories of tales far and wide to shake their minds of their troubles, but it seemed no use as they only looked to the two of you in terror around every twist and turn.

When you stopped for the night to camp you’d noticed that Strider had led you deep into a dense forest. You’d never been the best at tracking, so you often led it to him. You really should’ve paid better attention before as you were often so reliant on his talents.

“I am off to gather a few plants for some tea. I will be back in an hour. Y/N, I trust they shall remain safe in your care?” He asked and you nodded without so much as a second thought.

“Of course.” You smiled to him, “Off you go. I know how mean you get without your tea.” That earned a hearty round of laughs from the Hobbit’s as they laid out their bedrolls for the night. It was nice to hear such a pleasant sound instead of hearing the screeching in the distance.

“I will remember that.” He glared at you with humor in his eyes before ducking into the night.

You turned back to the Hobbit’s with a stupid smile on your face not quite realizing how much you were giving way of your likeness towards the man, “Off to bed we go.” You shooed the silly little smirks right off their faces.

They all nodded quickly falling asleep without so much as a second thought. You were mighty jealous at the way they just did that. It took you far too long to fall asleep these days. Worry kept you up more than you liked to admit.

Thank whatever was out there for that worry that wouldn’t let you sleep as you heard the distant voices and branches breaking far off in the distance. Orcs. Had to be, they were so noisy. Your heartrate spiked as you heard them before you spotted them in the dark night. How in the hell had anything found you all the way out here?

“Up! Up!” You whisper shouted before shaking each of the Hobbits awake, “Abandon the camp we must go. Run” You grabbed for your sword and spare bow and arrow before ushering the small Hobbit’s further into the forest.

They ran ahead confused and disoriented having just fallen into a deep sleep but trusting you nonetheless. You knew you had made too much noise but did not quite realize how much the smaller ones were making as they ran.

You paused for a brief moment knowing your longer strides could catch up. You took a look behind you to see how in danger you truly were. The orcs hadn’t spotted your little group quite yet except one with keen eyes. Adrenaline shot through you as you saw the orcs arrow trained right at the back of Frodo’s head as he ran forward. He’d be dead instantly if the orc shot the arrow before you could stop it.

Panic shot through you as you ran ahead beside him pushing him to the ground with more force than you’d truly meant. You’d thought you were in the clear before the searing pain of being shot by an orc arrow throbbed through your shoulder blade sending you to the ground before you could think. Frodo rolled beside you which sprung Merry, Pippin and Sam into action as they pulled the two of you behind the thick trees of the dense forest. Fortunately for you it was mid-summer, and the forest was coated in dense foliage making it that much harder to find you and the Hobbits hiding in the trees.

Frodo looked more confused than upset before he saw the arrow protruding from your body. He’d understood instantly, “You have been hit miss Y/N!” Merry’s concerned voice only rose a few octaves as he saw the large arrow sticking right outside your shoulder. It hurt worse than it looked but you tried your best to bite back the tears as they were so unseasoned to such horrors in the world.

You looked down wincing at the arrow surely coated in poison. Thankfully you were only a few days out from Rivendell. You’d be fine… Strider not so much. Shuddering at the thought of the man who would be so mad you got hurt, you turned to the small Hobbit’s sitting in fear beside you.

Ignoring the arrow sticking out from your shoulder you sat up from the fall you took, “Listen, for there is not much time before they try and find us. Frodo and Sam run. Go find Strider. He will help end this swiftly.” You nodded watching them run quickly off into the forest. You’d sent Frodo off as he needed to be as far from the attacks as possible.

Wincing you turned yourself as best as you could towards Merry and Pippin, “Now, I need you two to be brave. You must snap this arrow as close to the wound as you can. I will fight these orcs off, but I cannot do that with this sticking out.” You huffed eyeing the rather large wooden arrow searing its mark in your shoulder blade.

Merry only gave you wide eyes as Pippin shook his head answering your request, “I cannot do that.”

“Not can I!” Merry agreed.

You looked behind you a little panicked seeing the orcs moving in closer. Far too close for your comfort. Lowering your voice, you leaned closer to them, “It does not matter any longer. Time is of the essence now. You must or we all die.” You glared at the two of them letting them both know quite how serious this was.

“Aye, turn away.” Merry stood with shaking hands grabbing at the arrow earning a hiss from your mouth. Pippin took his hands in his helping him get the leverage he needed to break the thick wood.

“All right.” You turned your head away clutching your hands into the earth trying to ground yourself. You had to fight back everything that was telling you to pass out as the arrow snapped in two under the hands of the much smaller Hobbits. A quiet whimper left your mouth as you tried your hardest to stay conscious. The orcs were close. You had to do something.

“Miss Y/N” Merry sounded concerned as he saw your face pale out and the orcs move closer, “Please be okay.”

You nodded blinking back the wave of nausea taking over your usually so agile self. This did not feel like your standard orc poison. You knew what that felt like and this was not it. This was moving faster than anything you’d been hit by them with, “I am fine mister Pippin.” You breathed trying to blink back the unshed tears. Pain only reminded you that you were alive. With another small groan you stood from the ground trying your hardest to fight the searing fire in your shoulder, “Stay quiet and hidden. It is best to attack them by surprise. Strider will be back soon. Let us try and wait this out as long as possible.” You whispered grabbing your sword from its sheath at your side.

You waited in silence as the first of the few crept into your field of vision. They must have been lost. No way a pack of orcs were this dumb. Or they were on a special mission. But you could wait no longer as they were likely to hear your breath or any sort of movement for he was a mere step away from you now.

Quickly, you sliced off its head without much of a sound. The loudness of the animals in the night covered up for its lifeless body hitting the ground giving you a second to recuperate and fight back the overwhelming feeling of pain now making its way down your arm.

When you killed the second and third the attention was finally on you. You were not able to be as graceful and let out a cry of pain as you had to use your bum arm to defend yourself. Darting behind a tree you narrowly avoided another arrow coming right for your head this time. But you didn’t have time to panic as the man you had been waiting for finally made his grand entrance. Just as you suspected it was over before it really begun. You were a fine Ranger. But Strider was an expert one.

Leaning back on the tree you let out the breath you were holding in. Never had you been so close to losing someone so quickly on a quest. Never had you been so close to being eliminated. You were usually so much better than this. Strider was getting in your head, and you were losing focus. A Ranger losing focus! That was unheard of. But Strider was your exception it seemed.

“You arrogant fool!” Strider yelled right at you as he came storming over to where you were leaning on the tree. He hadn’t seen the broken arrow in your shoulder nor the way you were holding your arm upright. He didn’t notice the sweat the coated your face or the distant gaze in your eyes. He was mad and he wanted to take it out on someone. That someone happened to be you.

You let out a cry in pain as he grabbed for the arm that you were holding gingerly. Even the smallest movement made it feel like your arm was getting ripped right apart. You had forgotten how painful poison was for it had been nearly fifty years since you’d been struck. The bastards made it as fast and as painful as possible. And whatever this stuff was seemed worse than before.

He moved his hand away from your arm after hearing your strangled cry. Pushing you back up against the tree, avoiding your injury, he felt the sticky liquid coating your outer garments. Blood. Of course, he knew what it was. He had only begun to panic as he saw the deliriousness in your gaze. You were hurt and badly at that. He was not used to this.

Frodo jumped in between the two of you, pushing Strider away just slightly, “She saved my life master Strider! Please have no anger towards her.”

His heart raced as he ordered the Hobbits to light a fire nodding at Frodo that he was done lashing out at you. He knew you needed a helping hand. Not one to hurt you while you were down. Gently, he pushed you down to the ground, “Sit down, nigol.” He’d all but ordered as he helped the Hobbit’s start a small fire. He couldn’t see your wound and you weren’t so forthcoming with information. That and he wanted to see it for himself.

A small smile came to your lips remembering the old nickname he’d given you, “Nigol… you have not called me that in quite some time Strider.”

Brushing your comment aside he asked you, “What happened?” As he sat down next to you waiting for the fire to glow so he could inspect your wound.

You turned towards him holding your eyebrows close together trying your best to bite back the pain, “Orcs happened is all. Caught a poisoned arrow to the shoulder.” Letting out a strangled sigh you sat further back against the tree.

“How did you get hit?” He clarified with more patience in his voice than you were used to. Maybe you looked worse than you felt because he never, ever cut you a break. And you appreciated him for that as you were still alive and usually avoidant of such injuries.

“Ugly bastard was aiming right at Frodo’s small little Hobbit head.” You frowned realizing if you hadn’t noticed Frodo would be sure as dead. You caught Strider’s smile at your crass language for he knew he would never grow tired of your fowl tongue. He loved it about you, “Had to push him out of the way and he nicked me instead.”

“I heard that miss Y/N!” Frodo yelled back at the two of you shaking his head at you, “Elves are not the only creatures with good hearing!” You only smiled as you watched them feed the small fire with more twigs and sticks. It surprised you that Strider ordered a fire for you’d just been ambushed. Who knew what else lurked beyond the trees that kept you hidden.

You let out a strangled laugh feeling the effects of the poison inch its way through your system. You watched as Strider looked at you with concern. It wasn’t often you were the one on the receiving end to such a look. You’d been under his wing for a better part of half a century. You’d gotten really excellent at not getting hurt. It must have been jarring to see you fighting the pain back with such a force. He’d never admit how much he had grown to love you. He didn’t like to see you in pain. Not a bit.

He sighed seeing the fleshy wound, “You must not be so careless next. I have trained you better than that.” He sighed inspecting the wound closely, “I must remove the arrow.” He spoke slowly feeling his heart drop at your startled expression.

You shook your head with a vengeance for you did not like that statement “We are but a few days from Rivendell. Surely they will have healers who can do that properly.”

He bit back the frown as he looked at your arm, “You will not have a few days if I do not get this out.” It wasn’t ominous but simply the truth.

“Is it not an Orc arrow?” You looked down knowing what his answer was going to be but trying to ignore it in your head was proving to be a challenge.

He gave you a solemn nod, “Aye, but it does not appear to be orc poison.”

All you could muster was a simple, “Oh.” Not thinking that was a possibility. You’d still concluded it was a different form of Orc poison. What could they possibly be using?

“It appears to be something much darker.” His frown only deepened as he was studying your wound. He had ripped your shirt where you had been hit to examine it closer. It was turning black far too fast to be the standard orc poison they’d become accustomed to.

You shuddered knowing the pain would be intolerable. You already seemed to be teetering on the precipice between the living world and the unconscious world, “Do your worst then.” You spoke quickly turning away and grabbing at a stick on the ground. When you tuned back he was just looking at you with such a sadness you couldn’t help but to ask, “What?”

He shook his head breaking the stare he had on you, “Nothing. Bite the stick. Don’t fight me. You know the rules.”. It had been a long time since you were at the mercy of his hands. You were but a young Ranger the last time you’d been caught in such a dreadful position. Back then you had medicine to at least dull the pain. This was going to be hell you thought as you placed the soggy stick in your mouth. Something to bite into, crucial to keep you from yelling too loud.

But you didn’t need to worry about that issue too much as darkness took over only a moment after he begun to tug on the broken arrow embedded in your shoulder. Of course, you didn’t catch the concern or the panic that overtook him when he saw you collapse into unconsciousness so easily. He didn’t waste a second longer after the arrow was removed from your shoulder to pick you up and carry you in his arms telling the Hobbits that they had to get a move on for your sake. With hushed complaints the group was off to Rivendell in the dead of night.

It must’ve been the pain overtaking the adrenaline that had subsided that made you fade out of unconsciousness. As your body stirred awake the sun rose in the sky before you. Strider only cradled you closer to his chest when he felt you squirming beneath him. A rather large sigh of relief escaped him as he looked down seeing you slowly blink your eyes back into reality.

“Did you enjoy your rest then?” Strider smiled most genuinely down to you for as much as he loved teasing you it sure made him happy to see you awake once more.

You cracked your own smile at his sarcastic words, “It was nice, thank you for inquiring.” You hummed squirming once more in his embrace. When he locked his hands around you it was only then that you realized he was carrying you like so and he had no intention of letting you out of his grasp.

He chucked seeing your startled expression. It was also new to him too and he really did not want to admit just how much he had enjoyed holding you close to him. It put his normally anxious heart at ease. He had long since found you beautiful. He knew he had loved you when he first heard you speak your mind to a superior all those years ago. For nobody, not a single man, had the courage to speak the way you did. And you had the skill to back it up. That was why he panicked seeing your injured silhouette in the forest. For if you were to go down he had no idea what he would do. You were so deeply embedded in his life he could not even begin to fathom a life without you in it.

He ran faster than he ever had before when Sam and Frodo found him foraging for plants. When they came in blabbering that you had been hit by an arrow he began sprinting in autopilot. It drove him mad feeling like it took longer to get to you. He was there in no longer than a minute to kill the ten or so orcs that were hunting you, the one he loved. He was a maniac when it came to protecting you. He hadn’t meant to yell so harshly at you but he was scared. Terrified of the thought of losing you, his person.

He noticed the pink beginning to return to your face and more relief flooded his overstressed system, “You are getting some color back.” He noticed as he held you closer, “That is a good sign. The poison must not be spreading.”

You let out a long yawn feeling the effects of it all starting to come over you once more, “That is good. It does not hurt as bad either. Just aches a bit.” Your eyes drooped as you tried to fight off the sleep that was overcoming you.

“Rest. Go to sleep, nigol.” He smiled down to you with nothing but love in those striking eyes. He’d been carrying you for hours already, what was another few anyway?

“Nigol.” You hummed remembering the times he called you that all the way back when you first had met him. He refused to tell you what it meant and by the time you finally met an elf you’d forgotten the nickname altogether, “What does it mean?” You inquired hoping he would indulge you this time as you were on the verge of unconsciousness.

He laughed, throwing his head back and all. You admired the way his dark hair framed his fair face as he looked back down at you. He was truly so handsome. It wasn’t fair he was placed in front of you like this and yet, was so unattainable, “I did not tell you fifty years ago, why would I tell you now?”

“I thought I would try.” You sighed, “Does it mean something bad? You only use it when I mess up.” You asked him once you concluded the worst. He often used that nickname early on when you two had been partnered up. It’s use seemed to fade as you had gotten more competent. Yet now when you had a bum shoulder rendering you useless he used it once more.

He shook his head quickly, “It is not bad. I can promise you that.” He eased your worried face quickly with his words.

“Well, I suppose I can accept that.” You didn’t want to push feeling oddly unlike yourself in his arms. Usually combative and wanting to pick a friendly fight you felt like doing anything but that. You just wanted to enjoy yourself in his embrace as you knew this moment would likely never occur again.

He knew you better than anybody else. He noticed how shy you were suddenly acting. Was it the nickname? Were you tired? Was the poison moving faster than he could? He looked down seeing you continue to fight sleep. Usually so powerful you looked helpless in his arms. His eyes softened as he realized how much trust you had to have in him to relax into him like so. You were always on guard, always ready. Frodo was alive because of that instinct. But now you were at his will and he felt more responsible for you than he had ever before.

“It’s Sindarin.” He admitted wanting to give you something more as you had given him exactly what he wanted, you.

Feeling your eyes getting heavier you replied with tiredness in your voice, “I had concluded that Strider. You did tell me you were raised by elves, remember?” Lazily, you smiled up to him laughing as best as your body would allow you.

“It is Sindarin for little one.” He finally admitted to you, “Or mouse.” He looked down at you nervously hoping you’d have a decent reaction to it.

“Mouse? Little one? I should be offended.” You grinned not taking offense in the slightest for you found it oddly adorable he had given you such a sweet nickname.

“Do not take offense.” He spoke quickly, “I did not mean it that way.”

“Relax, Strider.” You yawned once more feeling your head rest of his chest heavily. Sleep was coming on quick, “I am just teasing you. You are so easy to mess with.”

“Sleep now, little one.” He gave you another gentle squeeze letting you know he had you. It was alright. You could trust him as always. And trust him you did as you found yourself in a quick sleep right back in his arms.

“There you are.” Strider’s voice pulled you from the sleep that had overcome you on the road. When you blinked you were stunned to be laying in front of a fireplace in a rather grandeur room. You must have made it all the way to Rivendell which meant you had been out for days at this point.

“Are we in Rivendell?” You tried to sit up before his hands pushed you back down, gently, into the plush elven bed.

“You must lie still.” He ordered before answering your question, “Yes. You have been unconscious for nearly four days. Lord Elrond was unsure if you were to make it.” His eyes were laced with something you had hardly seen on the man in your many years of knowing him, fear. He looked scared, terrified. Yet almost relieved seeing you awake.

“Four days?” You swallowed back your surprise.

He gave you a quick not, “Almost, you even have Lord Elrond worried.”

You sighed, “I did not mean to do that.”

He moved closer, sitting on your bedside. Taking his chance he brushed your stray hair away from your face, “You always do that.”

You just looked up at him, “What?”

“It is just that you always care for others before yourself. As much as I love that about you. Think about yourself for once. Care for yourself. You are far too kind.” He spilled his thoughts to you for he was too tired. Too scared at the thought of losing you he was not going to hold back his tongue anymore for he knew he loved you. He wanted you. He couldn’t see you with anyone else but him.

You blinked back surprise at his outright confession. Sure, the two of you had danced around any feelings for quite literally years. But you would have none of that, as sweet as it was, “You did not say that when I slayed half an orc army with you.” You spoke with a hint of playfulness in your tone. It was your favorite game to play with the man.

He laughed a full hearty laugh. A laugh so pure, one you’d heard so rarely from the man. He only laughed like that when he was at peace. Happy. Comfortable and relaxed. A sight that you could really get used to.

“For that is true.” His eyes searched your for any sign of pain. Any sign that something was wrong. He could not quite believe you were finally awake and chatting with him like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been knocked out cold for that long. When Lord Elrond had started to get nervous. Strider was not dumb. He grew up with Elves and knew their tells. When an elf grew worried he knew things were not boding well.

You felt yourself shrinking under his gaze, “What? Is there something on my face? Because that would be embarrassing. I have been asleep for three days and you let something stay on my face for that long?” You rambled not quite sure what you were doing. He was making you nervous. Strider never made you nervous. But when he gave you that earnest look you completely lost yourself to him. How fickle your brain was behaving.

He bit back a laugh sensing your nerves, “No. There is nothing marking your face. I was simply admiring you was all.”

Was he trying to kill you? Your cheeks were sure to be a bright rosy, red for his second confession was bolder than his first, “Admiring me?”

“Indeed. I would not be the man that I am had you not been by me all these years. I thought I was going to lose you. But now that you are back I get to admire you.” He spoke with that soft voice he only used ever so often. It was fascinating to get to know an entirely different side of the man you thought you knew through and through.

“I deserve no such thing.” You laughed trying to shake off the seriousness of his gaze down on you. He did not find your statement the least bit humorous.

“While I do not agree I also do not wish to argue. How do you feel?” He changed the subject even though he might have enjoyed watching you squirm. Placing a cool hand on your forehead, he did not miss the small jump you had in response to his contact. Touches he had given you so often before had changed. Things had shifted between the two of you and for the first time in a long time he was excited. He had a purpose. His purpose.

You gulped back your argument and nodded in agreement, “I feel fine, will you let me sit up now or must I stare up all afternoon?” You quipped hoping your quick mouth would let him know just how fine you really felt.

Shaking his head, he held out a hand for your to take, “You may sit up, but take it slow.”

“I was shot by an arrow Strider. I did not get my legs cut off.” You took his hand letting him pull you up to sit next to him.

He rolled his eyes yet still held admiration in them, “That mouth will get you in trouble one day.” His eyes traced your face as you too just looked at him. It didn’t feel quite real that he could have admired you just as you him. Had you been blind?

You hummed in agreement not being able to take your eyes off his, “Not if you are there to protect me.”

It was he who broke the staring game going on between the two of you as he collected his thoughts, “Indeed, little one. There is nothing truer than that statement.” Gaining some courage, he took your hands in his giving them a gentle squeeze, “Please never scare me like that again for I cannot bear it.”

“I will try my hardest, as long as you promise to do the same.” You nodded towards him feeling bashful in front of the man you’d grown to love. The man you had only hoped to love you as he did. The man you never could have imagined felt the same. Yet here you were.

Giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, he simply nodded to you, “I promise, little one. I promise with my whole heart.”

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[castiwls]

you are in love - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'Pauses and says, you're my best friend. And you knew what it was, he is in love'

Requested; anon

Notes; kinda made this sader than i meant oops. reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Ever since he was a child Sam had been taught to fear the dark. Taught that all the worst things happened in the darkness of the night. Over time the childhood fear of creatures hiding in his closest had slowly faded away as he came to terms with the fact that those creatures did in fact not just live in the closest but also in the wider world.

He’d quickly learnt that his actual fears lay not only in the dark but also in the light. That was partly why he’d quickly learnt that his favourite time of day was dusk. The time of day when the world was almost in limbo, not yet dark enough for the monsters of the night to come out but also not too light for them to lurk on the streets.

Sleep seemed to come and go for him recently. More and more nightmares making appearances made sleep something which he’d simply rather avoid altogether, yet that had changed when you’d walked into his life.

Sleep seemed easier and safer whenever you were around, your body almost like a protection blanket in human form. The nightmares never seemed as bad.

Yet he still found himself waking in the late hours, a small jolt of fear turning his blood cold as his eyes stared up at the dark ceiling. Letting out a breath he shifted in the bed, turning to watch the rise and fall of your chest as you slept beside him.

A small smile pulled at Sam’s lips as the previous fear seemed to melt away as you subconsciously moved closer, a small huff leaving your lips. 

“Sam?” Your voice was quiet as you slowly blinked up at him. “What's wrong?”

He shook his head, his smile widening slightly as you leaned back slightly to get a better look at him. You were more than used to him being awake at almost all hours, you’d learnt very quickly that the smallest movement seemed to wake him up - much to your dismay.

“M’fine.” He brushed a hand through your hair. “Just trouble sleeping. That’s all.” He reassured.

You watched him for a moment your eyes tracing his face. He didn’t look stressed, if anything he looked relatively relaxed. You subconsciously relaxed realising that this wasn’t a nightmare situation and that he wasn’t trying to hide something.

“Okay.” You nodded a tired smile pulling at your lips as you stifled a yawn. 

You watched him for a moment longer before leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, your lips brushing over his cheek for a moment before pulling back. “Try and get some sleep okay?” 

Sam nodded whispering his agreement before brushing a hand over your cheek. His lips parted for a moment as if to say something before he stopped. His eyes moved from you for a moment, an almost hard look settling over his face.

He sucked in a breath before looking back to you, his face softening almost immediately. “Why did you do that?” You frowned.

“Do what?”

“That face, why did you pull that face?”

Sam laughed quietly. “I didn’t pull a face.”

“Yes, you did. You looked like you were in pain for a moment.” His smile dropped slightly as you sat up - him quickly following. “I know something's wrong.” 

Sam was quiet for a moment before he pulled his gaze from yours, an almost nervous look taking over his features.

“It’s nothing it’s just…I realised how much you mean to me and I guess…” He trailed off running a hand through his hair. “Everyone I’ve cared about in this way…It’s not ended well for them. I don’t want that for you.” His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he looked back up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Your heart pinched slightly at his words. You’d told him hundreds of times that nothing was going to happen to you. That he was allowed to love without feeling guilty, yet he still refused to say the words.

“You’re my best friend.” His hand tightened against yours as he felt his breath catch for a moment. You both knew you were more than friends. You had been for a while yet he wasn’t willing to risk saying those words for fear of placing a target on your back. You both knew the unsaid words which hung over you at all times. It was almost like a string waiting to snap as you both danced the line, neither willing to cross and finally admit that you were in love.

[soracities]

"Persephone Writes a Letter to Her Mother", by A.E. Stallings

First – hell is not so far underground – My hair gets tangled in the roots of trees & I can just make out the crunch of footsteps, The pop of acorns falling, or the chime Of a shovel squaring a fresh grave or turning Up the tulip bulbs for separation. Day & night, creatures with no legs Or too many, journey to hell and back. Alas, the burrowing animals have dim eyesight. They are useless for news of the upper world. They say the light is “loud” (their figures of speech All come from sound; their hearing is acute).

The dead are just as dull as you would imagine. They evolve like the burrowing animals – losing their sight. They may roam abroad sometimes – but just at night – They can only tell me if there was a moon. Again and again, moth-like, they are duped By any beckoning flame – lamps and candles. They come back startled & singed, sucking their fingers, Happy the dirt is cool and dense and blind. They are silly & grateful and don’t remember anything. I have tried to tell them stories, but they cannot attend. They pester you like children for the wrong details – How long were his fingernails? Did she wear shoes? How much did they eat for breakfast? What is snow? And then they pay no attention to the answers.

My husband, bored with their babbling, neither listens nor speaks. But here there is no fodder for small talk. The weather is always the same. Nothing happens. (Though at times I feel the trees, rocking in place Like grief, clenching the dirt with torturous toes.) There is nothing to eat here but raw beets & turnips. There is nothing to drink but mud-filtered rain. Of course, no one goes hungry or toils, however many – (The dead breed like the bulbs of daffodils – Without sex or seed – all underground – Yet no race has such increase. Worse than insects!)

I miss you and think about you often. Please send flowers. I am forgetting them. If I yank them down by the roots, they lose their petals And smell of compost. Though I try to describe Their color and fragrance, no one here believes me. They think they are the same thing as mushrooms. Yet no dog is so loyal as the dead, Who have no wives or children and no lives, No motives, secret or bare, to disobey. Plus, my husband is a kind, kind master; He asks nothing of us, nothing at all – Thus fall changes to winter, winter to fall, While we learn idleness, a difficult lesson.

He does not fully understand why I write letters. He says that you will never get them. True – Mulched-leaf paper sticks together, then rots; No ink but blood, and it turns brown like the leaves. He found my stash of letters, for I had hid it, Thinking he’d be angry. But he never angers. He took my hands in his hands, my shredded fingers Which I have sliced for ink, thin paper cuts. My effort is futile, he says, and doesn’t forbid it.

[readychilledwine]

Lollipop

Azriel x innocent Vanserra OC

Summary - after being silenced during the High Lord's meeting with her favorite candy. Seraphina finds herself the center of a certain shadowsingers attention

Warnings - implied smut, implied corruption kink, Beron being Beron (so mentions/signs of abuse), implied swapping, Nesta implying she'd go down on OC, age gap, messing with canon a little bit

A/N -I got bored and the whole corruption kink side of me came out. I also think I'm developing a Nesta kink, and it's probably going to get pretty smutty between her and an oc or reader here soon.... oooo or the valkyries x reader.... might have to do something for my girlies who love other girlies...

Part 2

Azriel was going to fucking faint.

Beron, in an effort to stop his daughter from continuing to egg on the Princess of the Summer court, had pulled out some form of an candy on a stick and put it in her mouth much to the laughter and delight of everyone around.

Now all the shadowsinger could do was watch out of the corners of his eyes as his mate sucked and licked on the candy innocently while reading the book Eris had brought for her.

Doing okay there, brother? Rhysand's purr in his mind before the High Lord looked over at the daughter of Autumn had Azriel suppressing a growl. Well, doesn't little Seraphina just look so pretty with her lips wrapped around something. 

Azriel shot him a glare before peeking over again. She had the candy so just the tip of it was in her mouth, lips wrapped perfectly around it. Cauldron fucking boil me. Rhysand sent him a wave of agreement as Feyre also looked over and smirked.

Feyre thinks the 3 of us should take her, and oh fuck-

Azriel and Rhys quickly snapped their eyes back to the meeting when the daughter of Autumn looked their way before looking at her older brother and tapping his shoulder.

Her breasts were on display, small hands delicating holding the stick of the candy as she leaned forward in the exquisite dress she was in to whisper in her older brother's ear.

The male heir of Autumn looked over to the Night Court glaring at the shadowsinger and the high lord. He growled softly before taking the candy from a clearly uncomfortable female.

"Excuse my interruption," Tamlin stopped talking as soon as Eris spoke and demanded the attention of the room, "Do you have something you'd like to say to my sister, Spymaster? You've been staring at her for the past 10 minutes." 

The room had gone silent. Tamlin leaned forward with a smirk, as did Tarquin and Thesan. The daughter of Autumn was an unspoken set boundary. No one looked at or touched Beron's girl, not even Amarantha. Too much power radiated in that small body. Power anyone would have given Beron their left arm to have access to. They just had to follow his rules to get the chance to play for her hand, and right now, Azriel's silence was risking his own family's shot at it.

Might want to say something there, brother. Az shot Rhysand a glare before clearing his throat and saying the one thing he knew he shouldn't. 

"How can I not stare at such a beautiful creature? Especially when your father so willing put something in her mouth for the entertainment of every male here?" Rhys froze and immediately sent a look Azriel's way. 

That wasn't what I had in mind. Being her mate does not promise you her hand, Az. Beron could sell her off before Eris gets the chance to bring her to us. Tread carefully. 

Beron laughed darkly before turning to the Night Court, "I didn't realize silencing my 55 year old daughter with candy would be such a problem for you, Azriel. No one else here seems to think anything of it. Must just be that Illyrian Bastard blood in you." The reminder of her young age was a slap in the face to the shadowsinger. A reminder that she hardly understood the world yet and that she had spent the majority of her life trapped in that mountain.

Azriel caught the way Seraphina's eyes shut slowly at her father's insults, "It's not a big deal, daddy. I-." Her father held a hand up to silence her. No one missed the flinch from the young girl. Helion, Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys all looked towards each other.

Helion was now staring at the young female too, his eyes softening at her fear. Beron glared at Helion before continuing, "If you continue to look at my daughter, you'll find yourself wingless, boy." 

Sera even knew that was too far. Azriel watched the way her chest stilled as she stared wide eyed at her father before switching her gaze to Helion who shook his head softly at her in warning. 

Rhysand growled this time, "Do not threaten MY family over your choice not to educate your daughter on sexual matters."

Sera was confused. How was a caramel apple sucker sexual? She made eye contact with the Spring lord, who simply motioned for her to come over to him, and she did. 

She walked in a way that reminded Azriel of water. Flowing, smooth, gently. He barely suppressed the growl in his throat as Tamlin pulled the girl into his lap, his mouth close to her delicately pointed and jewel adorned ear. 

The room filled with laughter as her eyes grew wide and a red flush hit her chest and cheeks. "Really," she whispered softly to Tamlin, who nodded and then continued whispering in her ear. Soft nodding came from her as Tamlin stroked her upper thigh and whispered to her, eyes locked on Azriel in a clear message. He knew. He could somehow sense the bond. "What's a," Tamlin covered her mouth, laughing slightly as he explained something else to her. "So people don't use the proper terms during sex?" Tamlin was smirking at this point. Whatever he had just said made the young girl gasp, and her eyes go wide.

Beron growled this time and tried to break the field of neutrality in anger but couldn't. "Enough, Tamlin!" Seraphina shifted in Tamlin's lap after he finished speaking to her. She stood and walked back over to the Autumn Court in shock and embarrassment.

"I apologize for the distraction, Shadowsinger. Forgive me," she began playing with her long red curls as Azriel scented her anxiety. "Thank you for the…. Educational lesson, high lord." The daughter of Autumn sat back down slowly and made a fatal error. Her and Nesta Archeron made eye contact and the oldest Cauldron made said one simple thing.

"In case he didn't tell you because he's a selfish male, there's males out there who'd return that favor. And females, if youd be interested in that." The daughter of Autumn grew more red and opened her book to hide her face in the crisp pages, "If you'd like to learn, let me know." 

An audible squeak came from the young fae female, "Eris." She was desperate for help. Her brother shot a look Nesta's way, and she returned it with a hate fueled glare.

Tamlin had painted a mental image for her in pretty words chosen specifically to make the young female feel warm. Truly though, She didn't mind the idea. The thought of her on her knees as Azriel tangled his large scarred hands through her long red curls, tongue running along his cock as he made a mess of her made her feel warmth growing in her stomach she'd never felt before.

She had heard rumors from other females about the size of an Illyrian's wings having something to do with the size of their cock, and Seraphina was just trying to imagine how exactly that would work if rumors were true. How exactly would she fit all of him into her mouth if given a chance? The handsome spymaster had huge wings. The largest wings she'd ever seen on a winged fae. If wing size related to endowment size, his cock was huge. And if Nesta was involved?  Cauldron boil her. Would Cassian also be involved? 

A hand gently clawed at her mind, causing her to freeze. It wasn't trying to get in her head. It was already there. Her honey eyes met violet ones as Rhysand leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine.

No, love, keep going. I was enjoying the delicious thoughts you were having. My brothers and I love sharing our toys. You could have Cassian and Nesta, myself and Feyre- His voice was purr that made her shiver with chills as she slammed him back out and watched as he looked at Azriel. 

The winged male's only response was one side of his mouth twitching into a smile before he became unreadable again. 

"Now that Seraphina has been educated on some of the finer matters of life, can we continue?" Kal asked coldly as he leaned back into his chair.

Eris discretely handed his sister back her candy. He shot her one look that said, "Be good," before focusing solely on Tamlin and Rhysand restarting their lovers spat.

Seraphina made eye contact with Azriel again as she slowly put the sucker back in her mouth. Azriel pulled his lower lip into his mouth and tugged the mating bond, praying Rhysand had been right when he said he had found it in her mind, but the female just didn't know what it was. Another way to keep her in the dark and innocent, Azriel thought bitterly.

She made a confused face as she looked down at her chest. Then followed the string to Azriel, lollipop now back in the same trapped position of her lips, If you continue looking at me like that with those pretty lips wrapped around that thing, I am not responsible for what happens next little bunny.

Is what Nesta said true? Azriel felt his leathers growing tight at her curious nature. He could feel desire radiating in their bond. 

Of course. Only, I eat pussy for my pleasure, not yours. And I will eat pussy because I want to. Not because you've wrapped your pretty little mouth on my cock. He had her. He felt her arousal spike as she shifted. I imagine you'll also be the type who sucks cock for your pleasure instead of mine, little mate.

I'd like to learn. He almost came right then and there as he watched her put the candy in her mouth, eyes wide like a doe.

Keep doing that, baby, and I'll be stealing you to teach you much, much more than just whatever bullshit Tamlin told you. Fucking ruin you for anyone else.

Seraphina turned her attention back to the book she had with a small smile, I'm doing emissary work in the Dawn Court all week this week. I'll be alone tonight.

I'll find you.

I look forward to it. 

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

Vampire gone wild

( ´ཀ` )

He can’t help but indulge in her innocence.

How he wanted to purge on it, feast upon the poor girl's soul for it was too pure for this disgusting, plague infested world.

He couldn’t ever let this damsel that somehow stumbled her way into the Counts castle leave again. He just couldn’t allow that.

So, he watched her pull her silly tools out, examining his most prized and precious belongings. Pleasantly surprised when she found her way to his bed chambers.

He imagined all the things he could do to her on his dark silk mattress, how he could ravish her against the windows pleasuring her from behind, her plump breast pushed against the windows showing her body off to the night sky, the night being the only time he can fuck her with the curtains pulled of course.

But when they weren't he imagined pushing her naked form onto the bed, silk sheets sticking to her back as her legs fell wide for the count.

Pulling himself from his thoughts was when you started to pull stuff out of your bag, a brush, clothes?

Could she, would she be spending the night in a nightstalkers house, not knowing a blood sucking man hunting creature is her house mate.

Oh, this should be fun.

.

.

.

.

A/N- okay so I did something different I hope you enjoy it and if you guy want more monster/mythical creature stuff coming just request I would love to hear your guys thoughts xoxo!!

[the-real-fandom-person]

SAGAU-related brainrot knocking around my skull lately: Lady Maria!Creator.

Noble, graceful, remorseful, powerful, melancholy, otherworldly Lady Maria. The Creator isn’t a pure and untouched soul, she’s a scarred and battle-hardened warrior, ridden with guilt. Trauma has made her cold, yet paradoxically gentle.

Teyvat makes lumenflowers blossom everywhere to herald Maria!Creator’s arrival. Big ones, small ones, towering ones, blooming after sundown alongside the glaze lilies. Even in extreme temperatures, the cold, pale flowers make themselves at home. Slotting peacefully into the local ecosystems without becoming invasive. 

The Pari and the Aranara wake up to find lumenwood groves just outside their respective homes. The Melusines become enamored with these new ‘moon blossoms’ sprouting throughout their village, even the parts that are completely underwater. Amurta students and Fontaine researchers scramble over each other to study this new species. Nilou makes M!C a lumenflower crown, and it replaces her hunter’s cap for the day. Nilou gets the first ever hug from the Creator. Suck it, Azar.

Albedo and Sucrose experiment on these new plants immediately. Xiangling is already using it in some strange new recipe, something Chongyun will actually eat for once. Tighnari, Ganyu, and Shenhe take curious bites out of a lumenflower cutting. The taste isn’t unpleasant, just incomparable to anything else in Teyvat.

Inazuma characters, especially Kazuha, are absolutely fascinated by the Rakuyo (and maybe a little jealous). So graceful is M!C with her strange weapon, so easily she wields it on the battlefield. Every blacksmith in Teyvat hears the words ‘trick weapon’ and takes it as a challenge. Many come close, but none can truly replicate the genuine articles. May they never have a true need for beast-slaying weapons.

Imposter AU? With one of Bloodborne’s toughest bosses? Laughable. RIP anyone stupid enough to try. And if there’s a fake Creator pulling the strings? Not after a quick visceral attack, there isn’t. M!C pulls a blood blade to cut down the imposter’s guards (she notices the stars in her blood that weren’t there before) and the imposter receives the most satisfying visceral ever. 

Up to this point M!C put no stock in the ‘god’ thing. All she sees is mad cult, led by a petty and jealous brat on a power trip. But then she sees the stars in her blood, hears the voice of Teyvat itself, puts two and two together and just… laughs hysterically, because this whole situation is patently ridiculous. Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church failed in their quests for ascension, their heinous crimes being all for naught. Now here she is, thrown headfirst into unwanted ‘godhood’ and getting hunted by her supposed worshipers. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

Once people see the cosmos reflected in M!C’s blood, they fall over each other trying to apologize. Since she’s reached negative patience for everyone’s bullshit, she ignores them and fucks off to the Nightmare. After coming into Teyvat, M!C gained the power to enter and exit the Nightmare at will. The Nightmare doesn’t bend to her will, but it doesn’t treat her as an intruder. The Silverbeasts and Winter Lanterns don’t bat an eye at her presence. She’s a true denizen of both the waking world and the world of dreams, now. 

That night, every soul in Teyvat has the same nightmare - the Celestial gods attempting to forcibly summon the Creator, only to have themselves snatched from Celestia and dragged into a hostile, eldritch world of unfamiliar mish-mashed environments. At every turn, it is full of nightmarish creatures out for their blood. One by one, all but a select portion of Celestials become beast food, with M!C protecting the final ones herself.

Celestia, responsible for planting the fake Creator, falls from the sky the next day, its grand architecture reduced to mere rubble that rains from the heavens. Found amongst these ruins are the mangled, blood-drained and half-eaten bodies of Celestial gods. Spears made of blood impale many of the bodies, spears that seem to have sprouted from inside the flesh. Those that still have intact faces bear identical looks of horror. They find The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles in literal pieces - crushed and torn apart by hands that must have been the size of a grown man.

New stars and constellations appear in the night sky, as the illusion created by Celestia slowly fades. The curse placed on the people of Khaenriah gradually dissipates as well - the hillichurl tribes withdraw from the world, content to leave it alone. Every day, the curse lifts a little more from the people of Khaenriah; one day, Dainslief, Pierro and all the rest will finally be able to die. 

In Celestia’s place rises a second moon - a snow-white harvest moon, always full, large and visible even when clouds blanket the sky.

The Archons try to follow M!C into the Nightmare, but like Celestia, they get their shit wrecked by the denizens of the Frontier. The Archons don’t die for real, they’re just permanently cut off from the Nightmare. It takes Nahida, with dream powers of her own + Traveler and Wanderer in tow, to reach M!C and convince her to give the people of Teyvat a second chance. Nahida succeeds because she has the sense to treat M!C as a person, not some untouchable idol.

Sumeru is warm and welcoming, nothing like Yharnam or Cainhurst. M!C has fond memories from her time as a Byrgenwerth scholar, and the Akademiya feels like home. Sumeru becomes M!C’s preferred nation by default, to the pride of the locals and the despair of everyone else.

M!C has trouble wrapping her head around how mundane Teyvat’s supposed ‘gods’ are. Elemental powers or not, these Archons are too human to be divine; the only divinity M!C knows is eldritch, alien, far beyond mortal comprehension. The Traveler is fractionally closer to true godhood than any Archon. But then, just as the Great Ones were beyond human comprehension, so too are humans beyond the understanding of the Great Ones - perhaps it’s better for humans to have human gods.

Speaking of gods, M!C and Nahida bond over their dream-related powers. If this is before the climax of the Sumeru quest line, the Akademiya gets real quiet, especially when M!C publicly points out how asinine their logic is (she was closely associated with Byrgenwerth and Laurence, she knows their kind all too well). For all of his failures, all the disastrous consequences, Vicar Laurence at least had genuinely good intentions; these fools only care about themselves and preserving their own power. Scaramouche, Azar, the traitorous Sages - selfish, ignorant children all, meddling with forces they only pretend to understand. Crushing them herself is merciful compared to the other outcomes.

Through tactical manipulation of dream worlds, M!C busts Nahida out of baby jail long before Traveler and co. have to, and the Akademiya goes into panic mode because the Creator herself is coming for them. Traveler and co.’s plans turn instead to finding the hidden laboratory under Sumeru City - the combined power of dreams horrifically distorts the battlefield around the Shouki no Kami, even after his defeat. M!C doesn’t kill Azar after the fact, but she doesn’t let him go into exile empty-handed... because she cuts off his hands. Cyno is too unsettled to laugh.

Scaramouche resents her for her part in ruining his apotheosis (and because the Creator didn’t do shit for him in his tragically long life) but as the Wanderer, he and M!C bond over a shared disgust for the Second Fatui Harbinger.

And speaking of the Fatui... Well, they try to recruit her to the cause, and she has this to say:

“I’ll not serve your organization while any part of Dottore yet lives. For too many years, I stood by and did nothing while so-called ‘doctors’ brutalized the innocent and vulnerable for their supposed research, their dreams of godhood and divine revelation. Never again. If your leaders possess a shred of self-preservation between themselves, then perish the thought this instant.”

Fatui agent(s): ...

They don’t give up, of course. The less friendly ‘recruiters’ get sent back to Snezhnaya in pieces. The only Fatuus M!C tolerates is Tartaglia, because aside from being the Traveler’s friend, he’s a decent punching bag/sparring partner. She finds his Foul Legacy transformation cute, like a kitten baring its teeth at a lion.

Related idea: M!C meets Dottore’s remaining segment, and after everything she’s heard (let’s say from Collei and Wanderer, maybe Nahida too) she barely lets him get two words in before cutting his head clean off. Will this affect Dottore in the long run? Probably not. Does it make her feel better? Yes, actually. Collei certainly isn’t upset by the news. Wanderer is, only because he feels M!C was too merciful. She lets him dismember the segment so they can stuff it in a box and send it back to the Doctor as a warning.

If a scourge of beasts were to descend on Teyvat, probably because of Dottore M!C would lead the defense. This is not a war that mortals alone can fight, she insists. By her orders, every available god (herself included), adeptus, dragon, and most of the older allogenes are on the front lines, staving off the worst of the horde. Pyro users are in high demand, for the beasts fear them the most. In lieu of blood ministration, the various healers of Teyvat are working ‘round-the-clock. An entirely new crop of Vision-wielding healers spring up, because Teyvat’s top god herself unconsciously wills them into existence. Because M!C would never make use of the Old Blood, not after seeing and experiencing its effects firsthand. The burden of being a capital-H Hunter, the sweet, intoxicating call of blood - M!C remembers Byrgenwerth’s sacred adage, and she has learned from the mistakes of Vicar Laurence. Yharnam was merely the latest in a cycle of destruction, all because of the Old Blood. She will not doom Teyvat to suffer the same fate.

[slasherscream]

Hi, can I request a poly ghostface with a reader who's in drama? How would they react to her getting a lead in a horror musical (for example Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd)?

A/N: going through my inbox and trying to get to the oldest stuff that still inspires me to respond. sorry for the world's longest wait. i am simply an easily distracted creature of the night.

They're hyping you up beyond reason. You're talented, but it doesn't matter if you sucked, they'd give you an ego about how good you are either way. Why? Because they love you. So everyone else better love you too... or else 🔪🔪🔪.

It's giving everyone better clap for my s/o when they come out to make their final bow or we'll blow up this fucking building, yeah.

Despite loving you, attending theatre really isn’t their favorite thing to do in the world. 

So you getting a role in a horror musical is like… even though they love you: *insert finally some good fucking food gordon ramsey image here*

Are you more pumped to have gotten the lead in this play or are they?

No amount of fake blood is enough for them. They want to see you dripping in the fake blood of your fake victims. They bully their way backstage during the intermission of the show and they make you do a twirl while covered in fake blood. You look delicious.

It isn’t appropriate to do but Stu can’t stop himself from cheering at certain points. Billy hits him and tells him quietly to “shut your fucking hole they’re trying to act up there!”  

Billy reads up on how to care for your vocal chords. Right before you go on stage he’s always got a hot lemon tea in hand for you. He makes you use a vocal nebulizer every day and go to a steam room twice a week. He’s got no clue if any of the stuff works but he doesn’t want you damaging your voice, so do it just in case and stop bitching about it.

Stu is your hype man. Even on the days they don’t attend performances, since the show runs for a while, he sends a shit ton of flowers for you to receive. We’re talking roses in every color. If someone working on stage crew has allergies, watch out! The sheer amount of flowers is a genuine public health hazard. He wants everyone to know you’re the best there is. A dozen rose bouquets might not send the message. Twenty will!

They keep an eye on your understudy as if your understudy is going to plot to kill you. You are not allowed to hang out with your understudy when they’re not around. 

Billy saw you drink a beverage that your understudy handed you and barely wanted to speak to you on the way home after rehearsal. “You’re asking for it. You’re really asking for it, Y/N. You don’t know what that nutcase might have put in there!” Sir, I think the only nutcase here is you. 

They might have to kill that understudy just to be safe.

[bunnibitez]

Messy Hands - Part Two

Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader AFAB

Summary: Miguel just can’t get you off his mind. As a result, he’s always there when you need him most, whether you like it or not.

Word count: 4.6k+

CW: 18+ so MDNI, NSFW, mentions of blood, acts of violence, SA(NOT MIGUEL), stalking, jealousy, possessive behaviors, toxic relationship, mentions of death, slow burn, no use of Y/N

A/N: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG FOR ME TO GET OUT BUT I PROMISE ITS GOOD!!! THANK YOU TO MY BETA READER @jshookthighs I FUCKIN LOVE YOU

Part One here

Time never stops.

It marches on, dragging the corpse of yesterday behind it. Time never ceases and neither does the on going battle behind closed eyes and clenched fists. No matter how many deep breaths are sucked in between gritted teeth, no matter how much he prayed, begged, kicked or screamed, time marched on. Taking it’s toll on the world and his soul as it did. With time came its companion, decay. A devious creature that preyed on the innocent and beautiful, corrupting it with it’s touch. That’s how Miguel began to see it all. It was a matter of time until his brain too rotted away until his skull was nothing more than an empty cavity to host his rage rather than his conscience. Every day he could feel the threads of his sanity being pulled taut, and every day he doubted how much longer he could go without being the cause of a fucking masacre.

Wrath.

Rage.

Justice.

So much “justice” due. That’s how he saw it. So many people had done wrong by him; tore him apart, brick by brick. Hurt the people he loved most just to get to him. Until one fateful night, he was left with nothing but a beating heart pumping weakly in a dirty alley, left to die. His chest still tightens at the memory of her. Stolen innocence snuffed out too soon. And yet the ones to blame were left unharmed, hidden behind the ivory walls of their mansions, never truly getting their hands dirty.

Cowards.

If only he had the chance, he’d slaughter them. Watch the life drain from their pathetic bodies as they’d squirm and writhe in pain. Begging for a bullet. But Miguel would take his time with them though, he was patient and knew better than to grant them a sliver of mercy. It was the only lesson his father ever taught him.

But that all would come in due time. Miguel was patient, capable of biding his time until his prey found themselves tangled in his web and unable to escape. But until then much like time, Miguel marched on; dragging a little corpse behind him.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Weeks had since passed at this point, breezing through late spring and bleeding into early summer. The days after the mysterious brute entered Bellagino’s were tense, leaving Mr. Caparelli flighty and panicked. The stout little man could often be found pacing in the kitchen, muttering to himself with a distraught look painted on his face. You didn’t dare ask why he seemed so frightened since his ‘friend’ came to visit, mostly because you yourself seemed a little terrified of him as well. In lieu of your best efforts and his divine features, the man was cold and seemed pestered by your presence at your last encounter. Despite this though, you seem to find yourself staring at him more and more. Since the meeting with Bellaginos’ owner, Miguel had begun to visit the quaint little restaurant every other week or so.

Miguel couldn’t find the motive behind his actions truly. He raked his brain for an answer, disturbing the cobwebs in his head to try and understand why he had to mindlessly sit here and watch. Sit and watch this run down old restaurant like a dog. Sit and feel his shoulders slump as the soft hum began to tune out the buzzing in his mind. He’d come in and plop down at the same little table in the center of the room and the owner would bring him the same ice water with lemon.

For the first two weeks, he had attempted to convince himself it was purely to ensure that Caparelli wouldn’t run out on him. Sure, getting to watch the pretty little thing behind the register try not to stare was fun, but these were just business trips. What did it matter that he started coming in twice a week? What did it matter that he’d feel a twist of disappointment when he’d walk through the creaky little door and not see you in your usual spot because it was your day off? It was just business.

That is until finally he had no choice but to confront the truth. It came at him, sitting in his lap, oozing through his gut and making his stomach tie in knots. It made him nervous and queasy, forced to hide it all behind a stonewall mask. It felt foreign, his thoughts jumbled as he began to lose focus on it all.

‘There’s no way. It’s just work.. It’s just..’

It was a warm night in July and an unusually busy Friday evening at Bellagino’s, due in part to the ongoing festival at the Brooklyn Bridge Park. Fairy lights twinkled overhead in the outdoor dining area, each seat filled with couples and gaggles of laughing friends. Miguel almost didn’t recognize the place with it so full of life. The building had an unfamiliar glow to it that simply complimented it, turning it into the homely feel of a little Italian cottage. Turning his attention to the windows as he approached, he saw you, floating around tables with a smile on your face. His lips parted slightly as he watched you, glowing like an angel in the warm lights.

In your element, twirling to avoid guests with ease, plating food and drinks without spilling a drop. You moved with grace and poise, completely unbothered and confident. It was a complete parallel to how you acted when Miguel was there.

That’s when he felt it. A tugging at his chest and the tightening of his lungs as he held his breath. He could feel his heart thrumming as he stood there, starstruck. For the first time, it wasn’t just a subtle hum, it was a goddamn symphony. A cacophony of harmonious melodies blended together to form the tune playing behind his eyes as he gawked in awe. He couldn’t think straight, his own thoughts being muffled out and pulled to the back of his mind. Sweaty palms clenched into tight fists as he closed his eyes and tried to shake out the cotton filling his head.

‘Think O’Hara… Breathe dammit…’ he reminded himself.

A large hand brushed back loose curls as he inhaled slowly through his nose. He knew he couldn’t stand there staring at you all night like some love stricken fool. He forced himself to move, to draw closer to the siren that called his name without even knowing he was there. His knees buckled, faltering for only a moment as he approached the door. Pushing through, his nerves got the better of him for just a split second and his instincts slipped as his eyes merely tracked you throughout the bustling restaurant. Forgetting to duck his head like he usually did, the top of Miguel’s forehead smacked into the doorframe with a soft thud.

He winced, inhaling sharply as he stumbled inside for a moment. He grit his teeth, more so from annoyance rather than pain. He shut his eyes, hoping to drown out the throbbing at the front of his skull if he rubbed it hard enough. He was grateful that almost everyone else seemed too enveloped in their own mindless conversations to even notice he’d arrived.

Almost everyone.

Approaching Miguel, you looked up at him. His hulking frame would’ve been intimidating had it not been that he slouched a little as he held his head. For the first time since you met him, it made your eyebrows draw upward in concern.

“Sir, are you okay..?”

It took Miguel a moment to open his eyes, his scarlet irises glancing down at you. Slowly he took in the shape of you, nodding his head sheepishly as he swallowed. His hand fell away from his head as he tried to regain his composure. This had been the first time since your initial meeting that you’d spoken to him. Once again, that honey voice triggered the euphoric hum in the back of his mind. Once his gaze met your eyes, he felt his heart skip a beat. They were dazzling and full of genuine concern for him. The kind of eyes that men write poems and hymns about. Sweet irises that he could swim in, but he feared that if he dove in, he’d never come up for air. He’d never seen eyes like yours before. So awestruck that the only response he could give you was a low hum.

You looked down, feeling your bravery caught in your chest. Your eyes darted down to your feet and you cleared your throat, trying to remember the usual script you ran through when a customer arrived.

“R-Right, well… Table for one..?” You asked sheepishly, reaching for a menu. For a moment, Miguel feels his heart stutter. All the confidence you just had somehow managed to seep away in his presence. The way you kept your gaze glue to the floor made him frown, biting the inside of his cheek gently. He could feel the tension rising, an awkward wall you were starting to build. For half a second, Miguel felt a twinge of panic wash over him. He looked at you, searching your body for an out, a way to make things better, to make you less afraid. He swallowed thickly, scrambling his brain to try and think of something to say to lighten the mood or even make you laugh.

“Does it look like I’ve got anyone with me?”

‘Fuck.’

It comes out flat and sarcastic, not charming or teasing as he meant for it to. He internally cringes at himself as he sees the way you retract from him.

“Oh… yeah… Sorry, sir.” You mumble out and begin to guide him to his usual spot. The broken tone of your voice feels like a punch to the gut. A twist of his innards that has him wishing he could turn back time. He’s never been this awkward or nervous before. Usually his callous behavior is intentional and pointed, but now he feels it just makes him look like an ass.

“I’ll be right back to take your order…” Soft spoken and sweet, you place the menu down and walk away. Once seated, he pinches the bridge of his nose in self frustration, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets out an annoyed sigh. He’s never been like this before, never been this much of a mess because of a woman. Usually his suave and charming nature takes over and he’s able to seduce anyone he damn well pleases, but for some unknown reason; you broke him. He groans quietly and shakes his head slowly, feeling the butterflies now pooling in his stomach.

‘Aye carajo, get a hold of yourself..’

It feels like his brain is on fire, criticizing every way the interaction went wrong. He feels his gut twist, pinching his nose with enough force that it starts to hurt and his knuckles turn white. The throbbing only continued as his frustration grew. His face practically morphs into a snarl as he sits and waits. Opening his eyes, he glares down at the menu before him, a pleather bound book with the edges peeling away. He tries to refocus his attention on literally anything else than his blundering attempt at conversation.

Miguel is left grumbling to himself when you return to his side. Silently you place a glass of ice water with a lemon wedge bobbing about the glass beside him. Fear beats quickly along side your heart as you wordlessly reach out your other hand, gently clutching a crude ice pack. It was nothing extraordinary, a little sandwich baggie filled with ice chips and wrapped loosely in paper towel. It’s placed on the table beside the water with care. Miguel eyes it for a moment. He feels his stomach twist again but this time its a different feeling. It flutters and it’s soft with smoother edges than before. His cheeks just hardly flush a soft pink as his features remain contorted into a grimace. Without turning his head more than two inches, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. Your eyes are once again glued to your feet, trembling hands reaching to the pen and notepad tucked into your apron. With your head down and your nose nearly buried to the paper of the little booklet, Miguel can’t see the heat that’s spread across your face.

“A-Are you ready to order..?” You squeak out in a voice hardly above a whisper.

Miguel swallows, clearing his throat as he lifts his head. The pink on his cheeks is beginning to darken as your gaze peers over your little notepad and into his crimson eyes. His face melts from frustration, his brows furrowing just a little as he stares back, trying to remember his words.

“No.. I.. Just the water is fine.” He manages to force out. His hands are absently pulling at the cheap white fabric tablecloth as he looks at you. He swears that if he could freeze time at this moment, he would. The way your gaze softens as you look at him, has him biting his tongue just hardly. The butterflies are flapping wildly about in his stomach. Miguel’s canines dig into the tender flesh as he tries to ground himself, distract himself from how pretty those lashes would flutter as he forced you to look up at him from your knees. Would you let him hold your face still while he pounds into you- he wonders.

Your eyes flit back down to your book and you nod your head.

“Y-Yes sir. If you need anything, j-just call for me.” You hold the little name badge pinned to your chest for him as if he hadn’t eyed it the first twelve times he came in to watch you work. With that, you turn on your heel and leave him. Scurrying to another table while Miguel is left merely watching.

The subtle throbbing beats against his head like a drum before he glances down at the icepack you brought over. It feels so tiny in his hand. He lets out a little groan as he presses the baggie to his forehead, relishing in the relief it just barely provides. He can’t help the smile halfheartedly pulling at the corners of his mouth as he sits there.

‘She really didn’t have to do that…’

But he hardly has a chance to bask in his appreciation when he hears it, just barely audible amongst the chatter.

“Aww c’mon sweet’art. I bet I could show ya a real good time.” The man drawls out, clearly drunk from the second pitcher of sangria he and his buddies were splitting. He’s got a toothy and sloshed grin spread across his face as his hand glides up the back of your thigh. You look mortified, eyes silently screaming for help.

Miguel feels his lip twitch as he rises up from his seat.

“S-Sir please stop..” You squeak out, too quiet for the pickled bastard to hear or care. His hand is pulling back, gearing up for a smack, when suddenly a wide tan palm wraps itself around his wrist. It’s grip is tight and overwhelming when Miguel yanks, nearly dragging the drunk out to the ground in the process.

“No la toques, pendejo.” Miguels spits with venom as he twists the man’s arm. The usual hum that played in your presence was washed out by his rage. No one should be allowed to touch you, especially not some wasted shithead. Gritting his teeth, Miguel has to remind himself that he’s in public. Eyes fly to watch the scene unfold. He grumbles lowly as the man cries out in pain before Miguel practically tosses him back into his seat. He scrambles, nearly falling out of his chair to get back from you and Miguel.

With parted lips, a little gasp escapes you. Miguel feels his conscience flooding in as he looks back at you. Wordlessly, he jerks his head towards the door and starts heading for the exit. His eyes are cold, commanding almost. He grumbles something out loud to Caparelli about leaving in Spanish as his grasp nearly tears the creaky little door off it’s hinges. His eyes trace over you once more before he turns his back on you and lets out a gruff, “C’mon.”

Sticking close behind, you slip out the door as he holds it open.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

The night air is warm, the remnants of the summer heatwave still staining Nueva York. It’s mostly quiet aside from the drone of car engines as they pass by. You’re silently keeping pace with Miguel, feeling your chest rattle from the whole interaction. Frightened, confused, and over in a flash. It makes you ball your hands into tight little fists, frustration quietly bubbling up in your chest. In that moment, you froze, retracting into your shell in the hopes that you could avoid confrontation all together. You’re biting back tears as they prick at the corners of your eyes. Your mind is brewing with what ifs and how badly it could’ve gone when suddenly, his voice pulls you from your thoughts. It’s low and sultry with the fleeting taste of a Spanish accent. You couldn’t really hear the words coming out of his mouth, too busy being lulled by the sound of him. You jerk your attention to him, eyeing his lips for a moment before forcing your gaze to meet his.

“Hm?” Is all you can manage.

“I said, do you live around here?” His voice cuts through, fully grounding you and bringing you back to the present.

“O-Oh.. yea. About five blocks thata way.” You tip your head to the left. “I can just walk.”

Miguel nods his head before starting to lead the way down 48th street. You open your mouth to protest his accompaniment but let the words die in your throat. Walking side by side with your head down, you could only let your thoughts wash over you again.

Miguel lumbered on the side of the concrete closest to the street, grumbling as he kept his eyes forward. Loathing boiled inside his stomach, frothing from his mouth in a string of Spanish curses and death threats.

“If I ever see that fucker again, I swear… Llevaré su piel como un abrigo.” He growled to himself, plotting and mentally preparing for the literal hell that he was going to drag that stranger through. His fists were clenched tightly at his side, burning white until he heard a soft sniffle. Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he turned his head to face you.

Your eyes were still glued to the sidewalk beneath you, tears rolling down ruddy cheeks despite how hard you tried to keep them from spilling. The quiet sounds you made were a result of the runny nose that accompanied your tears. It all just felt so overwhelming, so scary. In a moment of quiet and scarce vulnerability, you tried to be brave. But it was so so hard.

Miguel felt his heart sink in his chest. Thoughts of annihilation and revenge washed away. Softened eyes stared down at you silently as he tried to form the right words to say to you to make the pain and fear melt away. But he couldn’t. Miguel was all too aware of the fact that he lacked the necessary eloquence. It pained him to see you trying to bottle it all up. His teeth sunk into his cheek as he scrambled internally. Finally, he loosened his tightly balled fist, letting it hang limp.

Rough, large knuckles brushed up against the back of your dainty hand. The gentle ghost of a caress, hardly grazing your flesh, almost like he was afraid you’d shatter. Warmth radiated off his hand as once again, it swept across your skin, featherlight. Your head lifted, attempting to gaze up at Miguel, but by this time, he’d turned his head away from you in a shallow attempt to hide his growing blush. Whether it had been due to your tear-blurred eyes or your own volition, you stepped hardly an inch closer to the giant, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

The rest of the trek back to your shabby apartment was quiet, muted were the sounds of Miguel’s grumbling. They were drowned out by the sounds of your indistinct humming. It was nearly impossible to hear, but it was the only thing Miguel could focus on as the two of you passed through your neighborhood. Entering a large, ten-story building, Miguel was only able to remember where he was in the flickering yellow lights of the hall to your apartment door.

Standing before your apartment, he swallowed thickly. Palms sweaty and the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge as you turned your back on him to unlock the door. You looked so small, so delicate, and so fucking pretty. He felt his heart race in his chest, nearly forgetting all together the events of nearly twenty minutes ago. Right now he just wanted to come inside with you and hold you in his arms. He wanted your body pressed against his chest, lulling him to sleep in the comfort of your bed. He wondered if those sheets smelled as sweet as you did, felt as soft to the touch. He tried to wondered if he’d prefer to rest his head amongst your pillows or your thighs, but he already knew the answer.

‘Please… please let me come in cariño… let me make you feel better… let me take care of you, just for tonight…’ he prayed to himself as he watched you open the door with caution.

Doe eyes stared up at him as his lips parted to speak. Just your gaze forced him mute. Rubbing the tears from your cheeks and smiling up at him with warmth and fondness, he thought he was going to fall to his knees right then and there.

“Thank you.. I-I really appreciate everything, sir.” You said gently, hardly above a whisper. It made Miguel savor your voice. The way it made his brain tingle and swim felt better than any liquor he’s ever had. He wanted to hear more of you, but more than anything he wanted to hear you say his name.

“It was no trouble at all. But please chula, from now on just call me Miguel…” He tried to offer the same warm smile you did but could hardly manage anything more than a sweet little smirk. Despite his expression though, you could see the light in his eyes. It was dull and flickering, but it was there, growing. You nodded your head and gave an airy half chuckle.

“Heh okay… Well then, good night… Miguel.” You spoke in the sweetest tone you could manage. Miguel felt a shiver travel down his spine. His cheeks flushed lightly and he swore he could feel his heart pounding behind his eyes. The way his name fell from your tongue made him weak and practically feral. For a moment he considered sweeping you off your feet and fucking you into the couch just so he could hear you say his name like that again. But instead he stood there, attempting to bite back his animalistic urges with his canines as you began to slip into your apartment. The door gently closed as he watched, standing there and thinking about all the ways he’d make you scream his name.

He tries to shake the thought loose but can’t. He can’t stop thinking about how sweet and obedient you’d be. How much you make his heart flutter and how crazy it drives him. Miguel feels a stirring in his chest, a queasiness that makes him feel sick for a moment as reality strolls back in. The fires of rage being stoked once more in your absence as he remembers what brought him to your apartment in the first place.

He can practically already taste blood on his tongue when he recalls the drunk from the restaurant. How terrified he made you, how something worse could’ve happened had Miguel not’ve been there. Through the haze of his anger he makes a decision, you’ll never be without protection again. He’ll always make sure you’re safe, constantly under the watchful eye of the family. Fuck if he could, he’d guard you himself, day and night.

No matter what or how, he’d keep you safe from the scum that roamed this city. He wouldn’t let the only pure thing in his life be tainted or taken away. Not again. God forbid anything did happen to you, Miguel would have to burn the whole city to the ground.

From that day forth, whenever he couldn’t watch over you himself Miguel would have one of his Spider’s watching over you. Jess or Ben would be the one’s usually sitting in an unmarked vehicle outside of Bellagino’s, stalking in the shadows to make sure you got home safe, reporting back to Miguel as he worked.

For a short while it satisfied him. That is until one night Jess reported she saw you opening the door for some friends, ushering them inside with glee as they carried bottles of wine and board games. Jess tried to explain it was fine, beyond normal even. But Miguel didn’t care. In fact he’d stopped listening to her the moment she said there was a man amongst the group of 4 that were permitted entry. Who the fuck was he? Why did he get to be so close to you? Jealousy washed over him, filling him to the brim.

‘It’s just for her protection…’ that’s what he told himself. Over and over again. Even when he had Peter install the little devices inside your house, while you were off at work. Miguel felt a tinge of guilt, sitting and watching you work with a smile on your face from his table. Meanwhile hidden surveillance cameras were being put in your bedroom, your kitchen, your bathroom, and your living room. It ate at him a little that he worried so much. But how could he not? He couldn’t let anything bad happen to you. This was for your safety, he knew better than to let you out of his sight. The last time he wasn’t watching carefully enough, it cost him… her.

No. He wouldn’t bury another person he cared about. Not when he had the power to do something about it this time. Not when you just started to warm up to him. You finally started to look him in the eye when he sat down at his usual spot. You finally started to smile at him and bless him with that angelic laugh. You started to loosen up and even stop and chat for a few minutes. Once on your break, you just sat and talked to him for the whole thirty minutes, telling him about your day and terrible jokes you thought he might like. All just to see him smile and laugh back at you. He couldn’t just let you slip away. Not when he knew what he’d do if he lost you.

As little as you knew it, you were holding his shattering mind together, keeping him from falling apart. If only you understood how much he needed you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Time never stops. It marches on, dragging the corpse of yesterday behind it. Time never ceases and neither does the on going beating of hearts and whispers of hope that pray for a better tomorrow. With time came its companion, decay. A mysterious creature that made room in the world for new hope and potential. Miguel didn’t always enjoy time’s passage, nor did he adore it’s companion decay. But with the two, a third party marched, carrying a flag of promise and beauty. With time and decay, tread growth. A glorious and shining ray for tomorrow, growth lit a path for time, giving way for hope.

Everyday that he saw your glowing face, he could feel his heart beating and mending, little by little.

But Miguel was patient, slowly learning to accept time and the company it kept. He knew to bide his time and earn your trust. He knew that with time, you’d be his.

Part 3

Taglist

@whisperwispxx @eatally @moonvoidpng @unicornbabygremlin @chshiresins @iloveyouall234-blog @amber-content

[idiopathicsmile]

the real horror, as always, is capitalism

My first-ever job was at a small indie bookstore, which was in the process of getting run out of business by Borders. (Yes, I am dating myself. I am about to date myself more.)

We sold books (naturally), puzzles, and stuffed animals. One shift in October, we received a new shipment of specialty Autumn-themed Beanie Babies. There, I beheld a sight that consumed my mind for the rest of my shift.

Haunted me, you might say.

(I have included a photo re-creation.)

That’s right, friends, it was unmistakably a vampire—a foul bloodsucker, a revenant—Nosferatu, in Beanie Baby form. I mean, it had LITTLE FELT FANGS. And I had QUESTIONS.

What does this accursed creature of the night drink? Do Beanie Babies canonically have blood? Are we meant to believe he is biting creatures and sucking out plastic beans?

What’s to stop this tiny Dracula from hungering for more potent fare? If vampirism can spread to Beanie Baby bears, where’s the limit? Where does this end? And what, dear god, did the poem on the tag say?

One mystery, at least, could be answered. Eventually, during a free moment (of which there were many, because we were going out of business), I picked up him, opened the tag, and read:

"When the Halloween fun ends, I like to gather with my friends, Into a pile we'll put our sweets, so that we can count our treats!"

That’s right: it was a Beanie Baby of a trick-or-treater. The vampire, safely relegated to the world of legend, even within the Greater Beanie Baby Universe (GBBU).

And in retrospect, of course the TY corporation lacked the necessary boldness, the vision, to release a true creature of the undead into their collection. But for one shining moment I lived in a world where it was all possible, and honestly, that was worth the mini existential crisis.

[tarotwithavi]

| What mythical creature are you? | Pt 1

Pick a picture from below

How to choose a pile?

Take a deep breath and gently close your eyes. Politely request your spirit guides to reveal the appropriate pile meant for you, then open your eyes. Whichever pile captures your attention is the one meant for you.

For entertainment purposes only

| Pile 1 |

You're a person with dragon-like qualities. You've got a fierce spirit that never gives up, like a dragon protecting its territory. When you set your mind on something, it's like a blazing fire that fuels your determination. Just like a dragon's scales, you've developed a tough exterior that shields you from life's challenges. Your wisdom is as ancient as a dragon's, guiding you through tough choices with a keen sense of what's right. People are drawn to your magnetic presence and the way you carry yourself with authority. You're not afraid to stand up for what you believe in, just like a dragon defending its hoard. Just as dragons are attuned to their surroundings, you have a special connection with nature. You appreciate the beauty of the world around you and find strength in it. And like a dragon's fiery breath, your passion can inspire others and light up any room you walk into.

Masterlist →⁠→ paid services

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| Pile 2 |

You're a fairy, spreading happiness wherever you go. Your smile lights up the room, just like a fairy's glowy aura. You have a kind heart that cares for all living things, like how fairies take care of nature. Your laughter is like magical pixie dust, making everyone around you feel lighter and happier. You have a playful spirit, just like fairies who love to dance in the moonlight. Your creativity is enchanting, and you have a way of turning ordinary things into something truly magical. Just as fairies are known for granting wishes, you have a knack for making dreams come true. Your words of encouragement and support are like little spells that lift people's spirits. Like fairies, you bring a sense of wonder and awe to the world, making everyday moments feel like extraordinary adventures. Your empathy and compassion make you a true friend, just like how fairies are always there to help and guide. You have a natural connection to the beauty around you, and you inspire others to appreciate the small wonders in life. In your own special way, you're a real-life fairy, sprinkling joy and positivity wherever you flutter.

Masterlist →⁠→ paid services

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

| Pile 3 |

You're like a vampire, of course not the scary kind, but the cool mysterious kind. You're super charming and people can't help but be drawn to your confident presence. You're a night owl, preferring the calm darkness when others sleep. Just like a vampire has those sharp teeth, you have a sharp mind that's always thinking and figuring things out. You're a bit like a detective, always noticing details that others might miss. Your fashion sense is on point, and you rock dark and elegant clothes that suit your unique style. You're careful with your words, choosing them wisely like a vampire chooses their prey. And just like vampires have a hypnotic gaze, your eyes have this captivating way of locking onto people and making them feel understood. But don't worry, you're not out to suck anyone's blood instead, you're someone who loves learning, soaking up knowledge like a sponge. You've got a taste for adventure, exploring new places and experiences like a vampire prowling their territory. So, keep being your awesome vampire-like self, embracing the mystery and allure that makes you stand out.

Masterlist →⁠→ paid services

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| Pile 4 |

You are a person who has the qualities of a siren. Your voice is like magic, it captures attention and makes people want to listen to you. When you sing, it's like the sweetest melody that everyone can't help but be drawn to. Your beauty is enchanting, like a sparkling gem that shines in the sunlight. Just like a siren, you have a mysterious aura that makes people curious about you. Your presence is captivating, and you have a way of making others feel entranced by your charm. But beyond your captivating exterior, you also have a deep and sensitive soul. You understand emotions and can empathize with others, making them feel understood and cared for. In your interactions, you have the power to influence and persuade, just as a siren's song can lead sailors astray. Your words hold a certain allure that can guide people towards making decisions they might not have considered otherwise. You are a person of allure, beauty, and empathy, with a touch of enchantment that leaves a lasting impression on those lucky enough to encounter you.

Masterlist →⁠→ paid services

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| Pile 5 |

You're like a friendly witch, casting kindness spells everywhere you go. Your smile is like a magical potion that brightens up even the gloomiest days. People are drawn to you like enchanted moths to a gentle flame, finding comfort in your soothing words and warm presence. Just like a wise witch, you have a knack for making things better. Whether it's brewing a cup of tea that feels like a cozy hug or offering advice that's like a magical recipe for solving problems, your wisdom is like a little sprinkle of fairy dust. But it's not just about magic, you're practical too. You can organize things like a potion master arranging their shelves. Your ability to mix creativity with knowledge is like creating powerful spells that make everyday life more enchanting. Like a witch who knows the secrets of the forest, you have a special bond with plants and animals. They seem to listen when you talk, just like magic creatures in a fairy tale.

Masterlist →⁠→ paid services

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| Pile 6 |

You are like a phoenix, which is a special bird that has strong qualities. When tough times come your way, you don't give up easily. Instead, you find a way to start again, just like a phoenix that rises from its ashes. You spread warmth and comfort, similar to how a phoenix brings a fresh start. People like being with you because you bring positive energy, like the magical charm of a phoenix. Your colors shine brightly, just like the feathers of a phoenix. You make things beautiful and joyful wherever you go. Your smiles and laughter make everyone feel happy and full of spirit. You have the power to inspire and make others feel better, just like a phoenix's amazing flight. As you go through hard times, you show strength and courage. You turn problems into chances to grow, like a phoenix transforming itself. You remind everyone that even when things are tough, we can rise above them and become even stronger.

Masterlist →⁠→ paid services

GUYS I DID IT! I am really proud of myself as I did everything by myself, yes I made the moodboards or whatever they are called 😭

I worked really hard on this one, please don't let it flop 😭

[kuethemoon]

iwtv fanfic friday: lesbianism onto the guys

@oldbutchdaniel I'm joining the fun. it's yuri time

two-headed mother by tisiphones // e, 8.6k

"Poor darling," Armand says, and the condescension in his voice is so awful and so offensive and Lestat wants to curl up in it and never, ever leave. "It's okay to let yourself be taken care of for just one night. You can't help what you need." It's Lestat's last night in Paris. Armand makes it a memorable one.

actually world changing. mommy issues galore it's sooo fun and this fic is part of several that got me into armandstat

super graphic ultra modern girl by armanddelioncourt // e, 0.9k

“I want to watch how you insert your tampon.” “Wha—No, you weirdo,” she glanced around the mercifully-deserted aisle. “You can’t just ask me that in the store!”

yummmmmy period blood fic!!! i love period blood fics sooo much and they're so cute

More than Neither by apoptoses // e, 6.2k

Annoying, how hot it is to see Armand kneeling on the dirty bathroom floor like this. Without her heels to compensate for their height difference she looks small, delicate. Her face is on the level with Daniel’s hips and Daniel knows what’s about to happen. Armand has probably been planning for this since they stepped into the store, she realizes. There’s no way she’d catch Daniel bleeding for the first time and let that go. (Daniel gets her period. Armand helps. Written for the Queens of the Damned prompt butch/femme.)

another period blood fic pls bartender! if I tip you can add them being freaky in a public toilet? thank you very much I'll take the lot pls!! the way daniel and armand handle being women and lesbians is so well written. dyke stamp of approval. if you're starting to notice a trend don't tell me

she loves me, she loves me not by IguessIllchangeitlater // e, 2.3k

“Sure,” she panted and raised her head, tried to find Armand’s eyes, but kept focusing on her fanged smile instead. “I will wear that fucking skirt.” Push out, push in, push out, push in, Daniela was going to come just from that, she was going to die. “I can’t-ah, I can’t wear my underwear with that, I would look silly.” Push in, push out. “Yes,” Armand agreed. She rested her head on the mattress, next to Daniela’s knee and busied herself with mouthing the blood that was still there. The blood that she drew earlier. “So, what’s the plan, boss?” Daniela managed to raise herself on her elbows. Armand’s beguiled eyes looked like that of a cat in the light of the night. “For the underwear situation?” “You will wear none, of course.”

butch daniel wearing a skirt because armand said so was an idea that bounced around in my head for a whole week so you know how excited I was to read this. hell yeah they're so bad to each other

sweet things for the sea by ulatraviolet_glow // e, 2.6k

Danielle Molloy, a runaway posing as a young man on a trading ship dreams of a better life, but when her dreams find her falling overboard and into the arms of the woman of her dreams, how disturbed will Dani be when she realises that the woman is not human at all, but a creature of the sea?

siren armand do you know how much you mean to meeeeee I lay awake at night thinking of you sinfully. siren armand...

one of your girls by sleepdeprivedsurgeon // m, 4.7k

“I was thinking maybe I’d go with my girlfriend,” Daniel says. Armand sucks in a breath, a familiar blend of excitement and fever rearing its head inside him. This isn’t new— nothing is, after nearly five centuries— but it’s certainly been a while. Louis doesn’t care what he looks like, what he is, just as long as he stays below him. On his knees in the endless confessional. Marius would dress him up sometimes: Helen of Troy, Cassandra, Mary Magdalene. When the painting was finished he’d push his skirts up and take him there in the studio.

technically not yuri but beautiful feminization + crossdressing armand and I had to put it here. special treat!

[heartfullofleeches]

I miss nightlight reader [android darling that glows and main objective is to help those who have trouble with the dark find comfort]

Picture nightlight being created to lull an aging deity back into slumber when it comes to terrorize a sleeping city. It cannot be killed, but its mortal vessel can be destroyed and nightlight is tasked with distracting it till its blood is spilled once more. It knows it's being tricked, but the doll's sweet songs and gentle lights draw it closer everytime. In its tomb the god dreams of ruling a desolate world with only the doll to remain as the one token of mankind's worth for all the years they ruined what was never theirs to inhabit.

Nightlight reader who's tasked with guarding a lonely little cabin in the woods and leading people safely though said forest from the creatures of the night. So beautiful are their bright colors, but they burn to the touch for those who have only ever known darkness. The creatures entertain the doll by making shadow puppets in their lights and offering them presents from those lost souls they've already taken. They beg for the doll to turn off their lights so they can cherish their loving hold for mere seconds. Their pleads can never be met for if nightlight ever offers them more love than they've already given the critters will never allow them into the light again.

Nightlight darling who is a reminder for saliors at sea there is always something more to return to on land. Their faint glow cutting through the thicken fog mends any broken soul and heart and their lullaby fills them with passion unlike any other.

Nightlight darling who becomes a corrupt crime boss's sole comfort in this fucked senseless up world after killing their old owner. Nightlight asks where their old master is from time to time and their new friend just tells them they're still sleeping. Nightlight always believes them since they saw them sleeping on the floor before being taken. All that paint will make their clothes sticky when they wake up

We had one Yan moth for nightlight - why not a whole group? Cuddle piles in their den with all of those big fluffy creatures crawling over each other to suck up as much of nightlight's light and warmth as they can. Taking turns holding the doll like a small toy and smothering them in little kisses.

I could go on but that's enough for now