#v. the taste of immortality

[the-herdier]

Baizhu is kind of like Tom Riddle except, you know, not a sociopath

[thecordelialetters]

Homelander x Vampire! Reader

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Summary: There's nothing that taste better than the blood of the strongest supe in the world. Warning: Fem! reader insert, smut, explicit sex Wc: 1,778

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Since you developed them at the age of 8, your powers were a blessing and a curse. Gifted with an immortal indestructible body, the speed that rivaled A-Trains, and the strength of a thousand men, you had one flaw, your insatiable thirst. As a young girl who knew nothing of control, you tore right through your parents, ripping them limb from limb and sucking them dry. You've gotten a lot better at self-control since then, though the memory still haunts you. Starlight, or Annie as you knew her from her childhood was the sweetest girl you ever met. You had known her since she was a little and babysat her when her mom was away. The ball of sunshine always asked to see your fangs ( not that her mom knew until Annie was older ) and loved riding on your shoulders while you ran. She would ask you to throw her up and down, always falling into a fit of giggles, before making you chase her through the house.

You saw Annie all the way to adulthood being a loyal friend by her side when she joined the Seven and even after she met the boys and her boyfriend Hughie. As much as the spineless man annoyed you with his nerdy tendencies and sweaty smell, he was good to Annie. That's how you end up in the Vought Tower as a double agent. Ashley was the one who found you, she saw some articles about the good deeds you had done a few years back and wondered why with powers such as yours, you had flown under the radar. You could hear her voice in the meeting room introducing you. "Homelander this is Night Crawler, she would make a great member of the team, her abilities include super strength, hearing, and speed." You could smell her blood pumping and her heart rapidly beating under the scrutiny of Homelander's eyes. Pushing the door open with one hand you strode in head held high while looking around the room.

"Hello, I am Night Crawler." Before you could say any more the sweetest aroma hit your nose making you close your eyes and inhale deeply. What is that smell... It was sweet and musky enough to make you feel yourself salavate. When you opened your eyes to look at the direction of the smell your gaze landed on... Homelander.

"Well Night Crawler... what else can you do? Other than the basics." You drew your fangs out and dashed behind him wrapping your hand around his waist. He turned around the retaliate but you were faster and blinked in front of him. "Interesting...very interesting." Homelander hummed while his eyes ran up and down your revealing costume. Your costume consisted of a black spandex suit where the shorts stopped right under your butt and the top had long sleeves with a v cut down the middle. Your leather boots went all the way up your thigh leaving a sliver of skin. It was simple but effective, though Butcher thought you could stand to show more skin. "I've decided. Congrats Nightcrawler, you've made the team." He flashed a dazzling smile showing off his pearly whites. "In fact let me give you a tour of the building, as the Seven's leader it's my job to show around the newbies." Ashley went to object, but her face was met with a large red gloved hand. "Come, Nightcrawler." He commanded. You scurried after him, the scent of his veins luring you closer. Homelander gestures behind him "So as you know back there was the team meeting room, we meet there every now and then to discuss missions, stats, new marketing promos etc." Moving his hand forward, towards the elevator "Each person on the team has their own suite, mine is up here, the biggest one, since I'm the leader." Okay seems like overcompensating but who knows. The two of you stepped into the luxurious surprisingly small space. The air was suffocating; you felt like he was planning something. The ding of elevator made you jump. "Ladies first." paired with that same fake smile. You nodded and walked forward and felt him pressed on your back hard. "Come on little lady, we have lots to see and do." You looked up at him towering over your frame. "Of course sir." As you followed after him you felt your throat run dry. Shit you didn't think this meeting would run so long. You tried to distract yourself with thoughts about anything, counting how many lights where on the wall or clawing your hand at your side. "Did you hear me? Are you even listening?" You could tell Homelander was yapping about something or boasting about his saves and was annoyed that you missed the whole speech. But your mouth was watering and your head was pounding. You looked up into his eyes, gazes met. Homelander furrowed his eyes. Earlier your eyes were a bright green and now they matched those of crimson rubies. You felt your fangs poke your mouth. "Sorry," you blinked rapidly to come back to your senses. "Well then...come on Ill show you your room." He swiftly turned, cape trailing behind him. You felt like you wouldn't last any longer, you needed to get into your stash. You had asked Ashley to fill your fridge with donated blood, all you had to do was wait Homelander out. "This is where you'll be staying." He swayed his arm across as if to say "You've probably never seen a place this nice before". The room was very...stereotypical of what was thought of as vampires. Black and red colors were splattered through the room, it looked as if you stepped into a victorian gothic home. "There better not be a fucking coffin in here." You whispered to yourself. Homelander chuckled at your comment. "Do you do much...sleeping?" He cocked his head to the bedroom, strolling in as if this was HIS place. You could feel your hunger surging, if he didn't get out in the next 2 minutes you where going to go crazy. Next thing you know Homeland is by yourside, hands on your shoulders. "You know, I think I know what might help you rela-" He was cut off when you spun around and jumped onto him, legs wrapped tightly around his mid section. One of your hands wrapped around his jaw, the other one holding his shoulder for balance. You bared your fang and bit. It was the sweetest blood you ever tasted. It was like a delicacy and you couldn't stop, hunger clouded your mind. You kept sucking, relishing the feeling on your tongue. Your legs and hands squeezed tighter as if it would keep the blood coming.

Homelander stiffened, what the actual fuck. Here he was trying to get in the new girl's pants but not she was sucking him off, and not in the way he intended to. But he was getting lightheaded and turned on. The feeling of your lips on his neck, core pressed so close to him. He let out a strangled moan. He felt himself stiffening, suit a little tighter than usual. Eventually satisfied you let go, lapping up any extra spills with your tongue. Realizing what had happened and what position you where in you looked at Homelander ready to apologize. He couldn't help himself and slammed his lips on yours. The feeling of you sucking his neck was euphoric. His hand grazed your side, gentle like a lover. Before grabbing your neck and holding your body out. You hand grabbed his to release the tension. "What the fuck was that." You flashed your fangs towards him. "I need blood to sustain myself. And you have the best kind." Your smile was bloody and sadistic. It opened something up in Homelander. It was what he needed. Someone like him, you wouldn't mind his bloodshed you'd probably embrace it. He liked that you thought his blood was the best. I mean of course it was the best he was the strongest person in the world. He brought you closer to him, letting you stand on the ground.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚NSFW BELOW ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧

Since you developed them at the age of 8, you're powers were a blessing and a curse. Gifted with an immortal indestructible body, the speed that rivaled A-Trains, and the strength of a thousand men, you had one flaw, your insatiable thirst. As a young girl who knew nothing of control, you tore right through your parents, ripping them limb from limb and sucking them dry. You've gotten a lot better at self-control since then, though the memory still haunts you. Starlight, or Annie as you knew her from her childhood was the sweetest girl you ever met. You had known her since she was a little and babysat her when her mom was away. The ball of sunshine always asked to see your fangs ( not that her mom knew until Annie was older ) and loved riding on your shoulders while you ran. She would ask you to throw her up and down, always falling into a fit of giggles, before making you chase her through the house.

You saw Annie all the way to adulthood being a loyal friend by her side when she joined the Seven and even after she met the boys and her boyfriend Hughie. As much as the spineless man annoyed you with his nerdy tendencies and sweaty smell, he was good to Annie. That's how you end up in the Vought Tower as a double agent. Ashley was the one who found you, she saw some articles about the good deeds you had done a few years back and wondered why with powers such as yours, you had flown under the radar. You could hear her voice in the meeting room introducing you. "Homelander this is Night Crawler, she would make a great member of the team, her abilities include super strength, hearing, and speed." You could smell her blood pumping and her heart rapidly beating under the scrutiny of Homelander's eyes. Pushing the door open with one hand you strode in head held high while looking around the room.

"Hello, I am Night Crawler." Before you could say any more the sweetest aroma hit your nose making you close your eyes and inhale deeply. What is that smell... It was sweet and musky enough to make you feel yourself salavate. When you opened your eyes to look at the direction of the smell your gaze landed on... Homelander.

"Well Night Crawler... what else can you do? Other than the basics." You drew your fangs out and dashed behind him wrapping your hand around his waist. He turned around the retaliate but you were faster and blinked in front of him. "Interesting...very interesting." Homelander hummed while his eyes ran up and down your revealing costume. Your costume consisted of a black spandex suit where the shorts stopped right under your butt and the top had long sleeves with a v cut down the middle. Your leather boots went all the way up your thigh leaving a sliver of skin. It was simple but effective, though Butcher thought you could stand to show more skin. "I've decided. Congrats Nightcrawler, you've made the team." He flashed a dazzling smile showing off his pearly whites. "In fact let me give you a tour of the building, as the Seven's leader it's my job to show around the newbies." Ashley went to object, but her face was met with a large red gloved hand. "Come, Nightcrawler." He commanded. You scurried after him, the scent of his veins luring you closer. Homelander gestures behind him "So as you know back there was the team meeting room, we meet there every now and then to discuss missions, stats, new marketing promos etc." Moving his hand forward, towards the elevator "Each person on the team has their own suite, mine is up here, the biggest one, since I'm the leader." Okay seems like overcompensating but who knows. The two of you stepped into the luxurious surprisingly small space. The air was suffocating; you felt like he was planning something. The ding of elevator made you jump. "Ladies first." paired with that same fake smile. You nodded and walked forward and felt him pressed on your back hard. "Come on little lady, we have lots to see and do." You looked up at him towering over your frame. "Of course sir." As you followed after him you felt your throat run dry. Shit you didn't think this meeting would run so long. You tried to distract yourself with thoughts about anything, counting how many lights where on the wall or clawing your hand at your side. "Did you hear me? Are you even listening?" You could tell Homelander was yapping about something or boasting about his saves and was annoyed that you missed the whole speech. But your mouth was watering and your head was pounding. You looked up into his eyes, gazes met. Homelander furrowed his eyes. Earlier your eyes were a bright green and now they matched those of crimson rubies. You felt your fangs poke your mouth. "Sorry," you blinked rapidly to come back to your senses. "Well then...come on Ill show you your room." He swiftly turned, cape trailing behind him. You felt like you wouldn't last any longer, you needed to get into your stash. You had asked Ashley to fill your fridge with donated blood, all you had to do was wait Homelander out. "This is where you'll be staying." He swayed his arm across as if to say "You've probably never seen a place this nice before". The room was very...stereotypical of what was thought of as vampires. Black and red colors were splattered through the room, it looked as if you stepped into a victorian gothic home. "There better not be a fucking coffin in here." You whispered to yourself. Homelander chuckled at your comment. "Do you do much...sleeping?" He cocked his head to the bedroom, strolling in as if this was HIS place. You could feel your hunger surging, if he didn't get out in the next 2 minutes you where going to go crazy. Next thing you know Homeland is by yourside, hands on your shoulders. "You know, I think I know what might help you rela-" He was cut off when you spun around and jumped onto him, legs wrapped tightly around his mid section. One of your hands wrapped around his jaw, the other one holding his shoulder for balance. You bared your fang and bit. It was the sweetest blood you ever tasted. It was like a delicacy and you couldn't stop, hunger clouded your mind. You kept sucking, relishing the feeling on your tongue. Your legs and hands squeezed tighter as if it would keep the blood coming.

Homelander stiffened, what the actual fuck. Here he was trying to get in the new girl's pants but not she was sucking him off, and not in the way he intended to. But he was getting lightheaded and turned on. The feeling of your lips on his neck, core pressed so close to him. He let out a strangled moan. He felt himself stiffening, suit a little tighter than usual. Eventually satisfied you let go, lapping up any extra spills with your tongue. Realizing what had happened and what position you where in you looked at Homelander ready to apologize. He couldn't help himself and slammed his lips on yours. The feeling of you sucking his neck was euphoric. His hand grazed your side, gentle like a lover. Before grabbing your neck and holding your body out. You hand grabbed his to release the tension. "What the fuck was that." You flashed your fangs towards him. "I need blood to sustain myself. And you have the best kind." Your smile was bloody and sadistic. It opened something up in Homelander. It was what he needed. Someone like him, you wouldn't mind his bloodshed you'd probably embrace it. He liked that you thought his blood was the best. I mean of course it was the best he was the strongest person in the world. He brought you closer to him, letting you stand on the ground.

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"In that case. Continue." He stepped back slightly to undo the top of his suit and pulled it all the way down, letting his cock spring out for the bottom, slapping against his stomach. You were the worst double agent, but you were doing this for Annie, why not have some fun. You leaned against him, feeling him pressed on this stomach. You kissed his shoulder, opposite hand running down his chest. "So smell so good." His hand gripped your waist harder. You bit into his shoulder as he lifted you once more, legs going around his waist. His cock rubbed up against you, mouth moaning in your ear. You moved towards his neck again and bit the other side. Releasing your lips from his neck you pressed them against his, smothering the red liquid against him. He was such a passionate kisser, way better than any man you've ever dated. You broke the kiss only to shed your suit, blue eyes scanning every inch of your body. It was like you were the perfect specimen, not a flaw in sight, utterly beautiful. "I knew you'd be a great addition to the team." He said. You smirked in retaliation before sauntering to the bedroom. He followed, like a lost puppy and their owner. The bedroom was the same black and red color scheme, black silk sheets covered the bed, surrounded by dark wood furniture. There were red and white spider lily bouquets placed in vases throughout the room. There were way too many ornate vintage lamps. But the details didn't matter to you, not when Homelander was rubbing himself up and down your slit. He kissed your neck in a similar fashion as you, before slamming his hips against yours. There was no need to be soft, you two were the strongest in the world, and the sounds definitely proved it. The best rocked with each moment, the wood creaking from the pressure. He cried out loud as you bit his chest. His cock was pulsing as pushing in and out of you. He slammed into you again, the tension of the bed finally breaking and falling to the ground but that didn't stop him. Your pussy clenched around him. He grunted in your ear speeding up slightly before releasing his hot cum deep in you. He rolled off you and the two of you laid there panting filling the silence. You turned over to him with a smile, fang pushing out the bottom of your lips. "Again?"

[yanderestarangel]

✦ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 | 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐊1 ✦

TW: afab anatomy, eat out, v!sex, mommykink, fingering, pet names, bottom and top versions, mutual fingering, no pronouns used other than "you".

ASHRAH, KITANA, NITARA, SAREENA.

She likes to be your good girl, giving you kisses while being needy, she needs your attention, she would look at you with a smile on her red and shiny lips, a sign of mischief, her fingers would make patterns on your skin, while she rubbed even more on your body.

"-Please, I was a good girl, right?" - you both knew the answer, and yes, she had been a great girl.

She soon saw you between her thighs, your tongue circling her swollen and completely wet clit, she moaned loudly while holding the strands of your hair, you could see her face contorting with pleasure, while several moans came out of her mouth.

She simply loves being praised by you "my princess" "babydoll" "my baby girl" "my girl" "my queen" she will grind her hips into your mouth even more if you say her favorite pet names while sucking her. "-Yes... Fuck yes (Y/N) I'm your girl Mmm- just yours."

She will grab the sheets and lean in even more so you can put the tip of your tongue inside her, her eyes were begging you to just fuck her more intensely, one, two or three fingers - she just wanted to cum with you, scream your name.

While her free hand was on her own breast, massaging her hard nipple, it was an image that you could immortalize forever, she was yours, totally yours and she would beg day after day to have you with her.

You stuck two fingers inside her pussy, making her arch her back and tremble, holding onto you even tighter.

"-Please- more, I want to cum, please" she moaned loudly, while her hair fell in her face, the strands stuck to the gloss she always wore, her breasts bounced with each rhythm of your tongue and fingers, reaching the sweet spot her quickly. You gave her wetness a teasing slap, massaging your thumbs just past the soft, plump flesh of her pussy, it was a slap that sent even more waves of pleasure through her, as you finally got on top of her - your lips met. in a raw kiss, the sweet taste of herself mixed with saliva, while you went back to hitting her pussy with your fingers, while her thighs tried to close, but you didn't let her, and she obeyed, she just wanted to be your pretty girl and cum however you want.

MILEENA, SYNDEL ,TANYA, LI MEI.

She likes to dominate you, to see you tremble beneath her while she has fun with you, fighting against the overstimulation she does to your clit, whether with vibrators or hours of her time between your legs, she provokes you to the point that you squirt but she doesn't stop. around, while she takes you to the heights of pleasure.

Tender and sensual sex is also well accepted by her, with the two of you enjoying the water that cascaded down from the shower, she glued her body to yours, your breasts touched in a soft fiction, and her hand went against it. with your wet pussy, smiling sideways as he whispered in your ear:

"-Such a wet little thing for mommy... You make me even more in love with you, you know that?" She bit the nub of your ear, while biting your neck, but that time you surprised her also taking your hand to her intimacy, making her moan, it slowly became a lusty competition of who would make who cum.

Her fingers curled inside you, as she kissed you even more intensely, your hands explored every bit of her soft flesh, taking one of her breasts to your mouth - while she continued working on your pussy and you on hers, your eyes met, a sparkle of lust and love was seen for you, she loved you and loved that you were such a brat for her sometimes. "-Fuck (Y/N) you make mommy so wet..." she whispers as she pulls you to get on your knees for her, making you remove your fingers from inside her with a loud pop, you didn't need to hear it twice, the sight of her dripping pussy made your tongue automatically go against the dripping heat she offered you, every lick, every swirl of your warm tongue on her swollen clitoris made you see a different expression of lust on the part of the woman, the woman who you chose to love and worship.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[dragongirlpoet]

Dark Signs 3

Summary: As Alucard grapples with his grief over what he has done, secrets are unveiled and graver foes awaken. Is it too late to save you? (Plot takes off months before *that ending* in part 2. Some parts are off-canon.)

This chapter is written in Alucard’s POV.

Themes: Dark fantasy, horror, romance, angst I Words: 4k

Warnings: MDNI. Horror, blood, gore, violence, religious themes, mentions of suicide, grief, depression, anxiety, slight smut

Pt 1 I Pt 2

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To the lovely folks who are holding out for part 3, thank you! 💛 Sorry I couldn’t put this out sooner.

@s-i-l-v-e @kawaiiskeletoneggsnerd @celly-fahrenheit @skychaser777

I tasted blood, cherry and salt. 

And I wanted more, more, more.

We were tangled in each other, our bodies suspended in the cosmic cerulean of the deep ocean. 

She was my salvation. Her kiss was my atonement. And her blood, oh her blood…it was a gift so heavenly. All my immortal life had desired only that very thing, and now that I had it, I couldn’t let go. 

Every shred of my primordial essence — powerful yet cursed, now entombed in the marrows of her soul. My blood now flowed in hers, as her blood, mine. We were fused as one, we were divine. 

My darling’s fingers traced the sharps of my jaw as she kissed me, our married blood spilling from her mouth, diluting the water. They formed red rivulets around us, as if in symbolic reverence that we were the almighty givers of ichor. 

We were safe, entwined together in eternal damnation.

I love her. I love her so deeply that I’d doomed her with my blood curse, so I could have her by my side till the sun swallowed us whole. And for that, I’d forever fester in my blasphemous sin.

“Adrian…” she seemed to say, but the snare of the ocean strangled her words, slowed our every caress… as if time at all wanted to still for our undying love.

Oh what I would give to hear her voice — seraphic, like a birdsong, my name chaste upon her lips. 

Her ivory chemise clung to her body like sculpted granite, her nipples just peeking through. They were for my eyes only. Yes…her being, her blood, her body…they all belonged to me.

But in that sacred moment, something felt…amiss. There were those jade-green veins, palpable under her eyes… they ran like fine cracks on marble, so like those on a delicately-carved statue.

Raven hair hovered around her tiny frame, resembling venomous serpents held buoyant by witchcraft. They were so in contrast to my gold, like the exact moment dusk bled into dawn.

There was the red rivulet again, this time saturating the white ribbons of her nightdress. They coiled around my arms, binding me to her. Not that I’d ever let go. 

But I had to, for her lingering touch was frost impaling even my vampiric skin. Why was she so cold?

“Adrian…” again she seemed to call out.

Her eyes, despite being underwater, were wide open, the blacks of them bereft of the soul I once knew. She was pale. So pale. And she looked every bit the angel of death. 

My angel…when did she slip from my arms? 

Our fingers entwined one last time, before a sombre gloom dragged her under. Slowly she sank, like a fallen star ousted by the heavens, syphoned of its light. 

But I’m right here, darling. Stay. 

I willed all of my immortal power to reach for her outstretched hands, but my body was deadened, as if held prisoner by spirit shackles. Further and further she sank from me, and I so terribly wanted to tell her that wasn’t where she was supposed to go.

Words evaded me, as my tears had.

The hollow abyss seemed to rise up — impatient, almost — to receive its new sacrifice. 

Blood gushed from her mouth — they were viscid, as if so thickened they had to be forced out or she would choke. The blood kept coming. They streamed out of the sockets of her eyes, running like bloody tears of the living dead. 

They say that monsters like us lack the ability to fear, yet I’d never felt more afraid than I did then. The love of my life, drowning, dying, yet I could do wholly nothing. Alucard, son of Dracula — weak, worthless…

A fissure cracked her chest open, the cavity creeping wide to reveal her beating heart. Her human heart. 

The blood kept coming. 

“Come back to me…” I begged, the futility of it sickening me.

Still, she descended. I watched in horror as the godless ocean buried her in its oblivion, until all I was made to see was the compunction of my sins. 

On her neck that I used to so lavish with kisses, lay the wounds only a wretch like me could inflict. 

I did it. I killed her. 

“Adrian…”

____________

I jolted awake. 

A numbing despair perforated my insides, a feeling I knew all too well. I stared out the window through heavy eyelids, the red moon magnified by sweat teardrops trickling through my eyelashes. 

For a long moment I just sat there, my lungs crushed by torment, my heart shattered by grief. I’d lost count of the nightmares that had plagued me over the decade…no, it’s been 96 years, Adrian. A century. A century she’s been gone.

What was I living for? 

Memories I longed to forget writhed their way into my mind, forcing me to once again relive the hell that fateful night. 

I had sat in the castle hall for days, her lifeless body cradled in my arms. My eyes burned from tears, and I wanted to die. I fed her so much of my blood, my immortal blood, still she slept. I summoned spirits, conjured the most powerful of magicks, still, she slept. My hope hanging by a thread, I fused my father’s sciences with my mother’s elixirs…still, she slept. 

I was about to drive my own sword into my heart — the only one ensorcelled enough to kill a dhampir, when a familiar voice stopped my contemptible deed. 

“Alucard! This place reeks of death, and here I thought we’d gotten rid of your father long ago.”

“Stop it, Belmont!”

“What? He may be pristine but his home sure isn’t. Alucard! Honey, we’re home!”

“Will you stop yelling?”

“Alucard’s probably busy shoving it in her, ha. I need to make sure he can hear me above their grunts and moans. Have you forgotten how loud you get, Sypha?”

“You’re disgusting, Belmont.”

“Alucard! Ah, there you are. In the hall, really? You two really are something. Do you have food? I’m starving. I…”

“Belmont.”

“Fine, fine. Beer is good as w…”

“Belmont!”

It took Belmont a long minute before he alas perceived what Sypha meant. My two dearest friends — immobile in silent trepidation, distress distinct on their faces.   

“What happened, Alucard? Was she attacked?” Sypha was the first to speak. As always, her presence seemed to bring solace, but it dissipated promptly.

“I killed her, Sy…Sypha. She asked mmme… to…tto turn her, and I…I drank too much…I killed her.” 

Mere speaking incinerated my throat, and it was then I’d realised I hadn’t stopped crying. I could scarce breathe through my wheezing, let alone enunciate words.

“I…I tried ever…rything, help me please…ppplease…save her please…”

Belmont, in a rare display of empathy, knelt beside us and took my hand in his. “We will find a way to save her, and we will not stop until we do. I promise.”

At his oath, I collapsed into Belmont’s arms. Anguish, shame, relief…they all coursed through my body — my face buried in his shoulders, weeping. Every emotion that I’d held in, all unfettered at the fact that I had someone, that I wasn’t alone to fight my battles. 

“Fault yourself not, Alucard. She never would’ve blamed you.” Sypha’s voice was soft, soothing, enveloping us in a reassuring embrace. I fell apart completely. 

A loud pounding at the doors disturbed our bittersweet reunion, arousing our every alarm. There seemed to be a clamour of sorts — yelling, mocking…definitely humans. Belmont took to receive the unusual affair, leaving a gap just wide enough to acknowledge a throng of men — bishops, priests and followers of the church. 

“I don’t remember ever calling for your conceited services, Father.” Belmont sneered. 

“It’s Father Caine to you, and I could hardly expect couth coming from especially you. Excommunicated and still, never learning the error of your ways…

I sense a great evil here…more so than I daresay…Dracula himself. Forgive our ruckus, for we, the good men, merely wish to rid the town of all that is malign…Hand the girl over, and all shall be well.” 

Sypha and I exchanged uneasy looks. What was he talking about? 

Belmont, entirely irked by the bishop’s pretentious drivel, was barely holding it in. “Take your horseshit hubris and shove it up your a…”

“Oh, but don’t you want to know why we want the girl? Not the speaker-magician…the dhampir’s lover.” 

What?

The dastardly bishop, words of scorn and malice, continued, “She now has the blood curse of the dhampir, and something in that transformation awoke creatures of the night…dark, hateful creatures…ones that possess an ancient evil…It is easy. We exorcise and burn her body, and as I’ve said…all shall be well.”

Blood searing in my veins, I raced past Belmont, the parasite parish’s body dangling midair in my chokehold. Eyes bloodshot and fangs hungry, I crushed his throat harder. He let out pathetic struggles of breath, rosary still firmly clasped in his hand. 

“Where is your God now, Father? If we are the impurity you so seek to vanquish, then what of the innocents you slaughtered unrepentently, all because they did not fit your cause?” 

I thought of my mother, the Belmonts, the heathens who simply held their own beliefs…and most of all, I thought of my sweet angel, so kind and full of love…

“What the…” Belmont cursed when we were doused with buckets of Holy Water. The “Men of God” started chanting prayers, as if their contrived communion would somehow free their pious leader. 

I let out a laugh. 

“The absolute gall you have, Father. Despite my mourning, I shall grant you this last mercy. Command your men to leave and never again return, and I shall kill only you. Fail to do so, and I’ll rip the tendons from all your wicked hearts. After all, I am a monster, am I not?”

A few men flinched at my words, casting hesitant glances to the others, while some implored Father Caine to choose wisely. Such cowards.

The bishop shifted a little in my grip, a faint smirk splayed across his face. “M…ark my words, vampire. Dark times ar…are ahead…The girl must di…” 

I tore his heart right out of his ribs.

He was right. I was a vampire. I was omni-sentient. I was a monster and a God all at the same time. The farcical impudence he had to order the execution of my beloved…Anyone who touches her will die.

With his blood on my hands, I felt my hunger creep in once again, ripping off the human mask I wore like a virtue. I needed to feed.

It wasn’t until Belmont started swinging his Morningstar than I realised the tumult that had ensued. “And God shits in my dinner once again…Alucard! Left!”

Veins palpitating from the heart I’d just consumed, I saw that the rest of the church, quite possibly under the predetermined order of the bishop, lit a pyre that massacred the foliage we used to read under, devoured the quince fruit trees we so loved to frolic around.

They will all die. 

“Get back!” Sypha cried, mutating the fire into swirls that wavered to her bidding. She channelled them towards the men, trapping them in rings of flame. Out of nowhere, fire arrows flew in our direction, narrowly missing Sypha’s face. That was enough to send Belmont into a scalding rage. 

His Morningstar cleaved through half of the men, dismembering some, dissecting others. My estoc weaved through throats and hearts, beheading some, mutilating others. The tragic irony of it all — the very men whose sole mission was to protect mankind, to do good, on an aimless rampage to kill because of a misguided prophecy.

And so the fighting went on for months, years... Night creatures, more members of the parish, vampires seeking a new world order…valiant efforts, alas they were no more than vermins effortlessly exterminated by us three. 

We weren’t certain why they had kept showing up. Whether it was a curse set off by my turning her, or the fact that they simply wanted us dead…it mattered not, nor did I make it my business to find out. I was going to kill them all. 

Sypha and Belmont had kept to their promise. Come hell or high water, they stuck with me, even moving into the castle with their son. We battled foes, and never once did they abandon their cause to revive the love of my life.

“Alucard, you need to seal her. Keep her somewhere safe, where no one but you can find,” Sypha had one day told me. I was no fool, I’d known they wouldn’t be around forever, and if I’d succumbed to my grief, all their efforts would’ve been in vain. 

“Promise me that when she wakes, you two will look after our kids, and grandkids, and great-grandkids, and…” Belmont trailed off, seemingly stumped by staple discourse.

“They’re called descendants, you idiot.” Sypha rolled her eyes. 

Managing a genuine smile I haven’t had in a long while, I replied, “I promise.”

“My lord.”

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to yet leave my reverie.

“My lord,” Centrio again addressed, this time with more urgency. There, bowing by the door, dressed in fine leather that I had gifted, stood the first human I’d turned after…her. I’d found him by the docks, and he was all but an emanciated vagrant on the brink of death. Perhaps it was the matyr in me, but I thought it more I had wanted to experiment…if he indeed turned, perhaps there was a way…

“The council is ready for you.” 

Donning my guise of Imperious Vampire Overlord — terrifying, deadly, merciless — I made my way down to the great hall with my most loyal emissary. I clutched at the pendant around my neck — a vial forged with obsidian and laced with gold, encased with her blood. It was the only way I could feel her if she woke.  

An excruciating sorrow once again took shape, like an enemy planting tiny splinters in my heart, except those splinters were tainted with the most malevolent of poisons, inching slowly to ravage my vital core. 

“My lord,” 

The council all greeted in unison, heads bowed in utter veneration. Men, women, young, old…I had sired them all. To have a contingency if I ever needed one, to delegate my task of finding a cure, to have some goddamn chatter in the forsaken castle…

“We’ve received word that the denomination led by Gwyth is storming in from the highlands of Brasov. They are…angered by the vampires you’ve sired. She thinks just because…” 

“Just because what?” 

The gathering fell silent, as if fearful to draw my ire. Good…that’s how I intended it to be.

“Tell me, Finnor, does your gallantry waver in my presence? If so, perhaps it was my oversight in appointing you General?” 

“Forgive me, my lord. She thinks it’s a travesty that we, vampires a mere century old, are…” Finnor cleared his throat before continuing, “...exhausting all the human blood supply here in Braila. Some of our own have gone over to bordering cities, and they’re most displeased. She thinks that just because you’re… Dracula’s son, doesn’t give you the right…”

“Dracula’s son?” I scoffed. 

“Did I not sire you all? If Dracula is my father, then does his blood not also run in your veins? 

“Yes!” My council concurred in earnest. 

Does that not make you powerful?”

“Yes!”

“Good! Then let them come. We will defend what is rightfully ours, will we not?”

“Yes!” 

At that, they broke into a resounding cheer, half howling, the rest pounding staffs, swords and what have you on the marble floor. Contrary to the revelry below, I, worshipped like a God on my throne, felt wholly insentient. I cared not for war, nor truimphs, nor reign. If I’d created bloodthirsty monsters, it was merely a means to an end. 

I wanted only one thing. 

Was this how my father felt when my mother died?

“Kindly see to it, Centrio. I wish not to be bothered.”

“At your service, my lord.”

There she was — immaculate in white, clutching the garland of daffodils I’d made her, so detached from the pain I’d caused…I had all but little choice when I’d sealed her in the underground castle chambers. I had cast a spell so powerful, that save for the both of us, no one could enter, or find, our fortress in Wallachia.

Living in the castle without my friends, without her, seeing her lifeless body…it went on for months, years…I couldn’t bear it. Her lying there, bereft of a heartbeat, of a breath, broke me in ways I never knew existed. 

And so I resolved to start over in Braila, it was the only way to keep her safe, it was the only way I could honour my vow to save her.

Cape dragging behind my lifeless steps, I trudged back to my study, thoughts once again lost in her. Innumerable letters I’d written, infinite words I wanted to say — all frozen and wayward like misplaced luminaries in an interstellar void. 

What have I done, darling? I’ve created…abominations... so many innocent lives lost because of me…Will you still love me when you see what I’ve become?

“Adrian…”

I spun round, completely entranced by her voice. 

In the doorway, against the crimson glow of the stained-glass window, wearing the white chemise just as she always had, awaited my beloved. It suddenly became daunting to breathe, my mind apprehensive to behold the sight.

“Darling? Is it really you?” I uttered, my words close to a tremble.

She said nothing, but merely moved to me with such litheness I was taken aback. Her steps were languid, like a lone willow swaying in a bleak winter tempest. 

“H…how did you find me? You don’t look well, do you need to feed? Here,” I offered my bloodslit wrists to her. She pressed her lips to them at once, as though thoroughly acquainted with my gesture. 

“I missed you so much, I…”

“Shhh…” she hushed, sinking to her knees. 

Her hands made quick work of my trousers, and too soon had my entire length in her mouth. My cock twitched as her tongue lapped over the ridges of my growing erection, licking hurried circles around my tip.

“Fuck…baby…I missed you so fucking much…” I panted, pushing her face deeper between my thighs. “Ahhh…that feels so good…” and threw my head back, shutting my eyes, relishing in the absolute ecstasy of her eagerness. 

Pumping my sex in rapid fervour, she took it further down her throat, sucking, constricting…the weight of my every burden reduced to an indistinct drone.

“Slow down, darling,” 

“Yes, my lord…”

My eyes flew open. My lord?

From where I was, I alas saw it. The sable of her tresses ran an incomparable lustre to my darling’s raven. I flung the devil thrall into the windows at once, shattering the glass, red fragments giving way to golden gleams of the inconspicuous sun. 

“How very dare you,” my voice dropping to a haunting hiss as I stalked towards her. “The audacity you possess to employ such pitious artifice…who sent you?” 

The thrall quivered at my unrestrained wrath, straining to speak against the bleeding shards skewered in her throat.

“Y…you…did…m…my l..ord…” 

I froze, the lunacy of my suffering clear as day. I must already be dead. 

Refusing to bear the yoke of that truth, I instead directed all my shame and hurt at the dying vampire whom I’d sired. 

“Why do you get to live, but she doesn’t? Why do all of you get to persist in endlessness, possess my blood gift, but she is doomed to sleep for all eternity? Why!”

All that remained was the anguished aftershock of my tirade, and the spurting of blood that had slivered their way to the soles of my boots. 

“F…forrr…give me, mmy…lord…”

“I want you to listen closely. She transcends your every breath. You will never be her.” 

I compelled my estoc to sever her head. 

____________

I liked it out here. At times the ocean waves would susurrate, tonight it was a thunder against the cliffs. It offered a quiet respite from my heartbreak, the inane vampire politics, and the endless blood war of the undead.

My hair whipped in the frigid windstorm, yet I felt nothing. I was a lighthouse abandoned — hollow, crepuscular — fleeting through the years devoid of purpose. There were nights where I would see her in the middle of the violent sea — so alone, so tormented — does she know? I would cross oceans of time to find her.

Something snapped. 

I remained still as death, my gaze shifting calculatedly to the untimely intruder foolish enough to trespass into my castle grounds. Their steps, though fairly distant and furtive, stood little chance against my heightened hearing. 

The clanging of chains reached my ears long before my sword ensnared the metal. Holding it mere inches from my face, I studied the peculiar weapon — intricate weaving of iron, spikes flared at the tip…and that leather whip. 

“Simon Belmont. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Save that garb for someone who gives a shit, vampire.”

I smirked at his salutation, perhaps a little more than necessary. “I see the Belmonts have a tradition.”

Unlike his forefathers, Simon had fallen out of favour with the Belmonts, insisting that vampires, regardless of their intent and relationship, are considered foe and should, at all costs, be exterminated with their bodies wrung out to dry. 

“The odious horde you have sired are arrogant beyond their means. Do you not care for the turmoil they have caused? The innocent lives they have claimed?” 

I no longer have the capacity to, I wanted to tell him. 

“I come here not to befriend, or beg, or ask. Halt the atrocities of your vampires, or I shall finish what my grandfather so failed to do — kill you.”

“Are you threatening me, Belmont?”

Taking advantage of my affront, he wielded the Combat Cross — one I’d noticed too late — for it struck the pendant around my collar, barely missing my chest. I watched as the vial containing her blood fracture into pieces, her lifesource splattered and devoured by the earth below. 

Seething, I lunged for Simon, teleporting behind him while coiling the Morningstar around his neck. He threshed around his imminent asphyxiation, blindly stabbing his dagger, attempting to find purchase on any of my organs. 

The tip of his Morningstar however, managed to etch itself onto my arm, igniting an unsteady glow. It would not combust in me, for I was neither human nor demon. Still, a searing pain barelled through the recesses of my body.

I released Simon as he collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving from the lack of air. Hovering my sword above his heart, I recalled the promise I had made to Belmont. 

“This is a fight for another day, Belmont. Take your weapons and leave, for I have little forbearance for charity such as now.”

Flinging a shard of the Transmission Mirror next to Simon, he was pulled into its magic before he could contend. As the mirror engulfed him in its sorcery, he glared at me with such loathing I thought it incredulous I had loved his grandparents dearly.

But it was his last words ahead of being teleported that unnerved me, roused me back to the verity of that very moment — “I know what you’re searching for, Alucard.”

I stared at the spot where Simon was, now an insignificant mass of rocks, amongst them lay fragments of my obsidian vial.

An uncanny cold snaked about my heart. Clutching at it, the hammering intensified to a booming knell, in the same manner as nights where the parish would pound at my castle doors with boulders, clamouring to burn her. My breathing soon withered to a wheeze, then a gasp, and I fell to my knees.

Without the pendant, I could feel her no longer. 

What if she woke? The indefinite dangers she would face outside the castle walls…Simon…what if he knew a way to find her…to kill her…

I was sickened with fear. Haste was of the essence, but the Transmission Mirror teleported at random — there was no telling where I would end up. Trembling, I raced to ready my stallion. 

I was going back to Castlevania. 

Pt 1 I Pt 2

[arting-block]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 11th Doctor x F!Reader

❝𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦.❞

Summary: The Doctor doesn't need sex, just you

Warnings: Grinding, P in V sex, hints of sub!Doctor

Words: 1K

A/N: HAHAHA I'm back!! I had this scenario rotting in my brain and I needed to get it out. This does take place in Stranger in a Strange Land, but this fic can be read as a stand-alone!

The Doctor has no need for romance. Eons spent traveling the cosmos trying to save everyone from destruction leaves little room for trivial things. His need for sex is even lower. 

“Please,” a breathy whine, a slight gasp. The Doctor’s hands gripped the cloth of the bedsheets in hopes he could gain control of his erratic heaving. Everything’s too hot, too much. Despite the tops of his shirt being undone and his jacket laying on the floor, his bodily temperature keeps rising, “There’s people in the other room—”

His voice ended with a pitched cry as your fingers went to the zipper of his pants. Light pressure from your fingers sent his mind into a frenzy. A mix of cold dread and pure excitement pools in his chest all the way down. The Doctor could easily stop your hands. One word and you would step back. 

Sex isn’t important, he doesn’t crave it. Plenty of beautiful men and women have thrown themselves at his feet and he spared them no glance. From powerful queens to cheeky immortals. Hell, even his own companions have tried and ultimately failed to garner any carnal desire from him. 

The Doctor tightened his hold on the bed when you moved to hover above his lap. Your perfume invades his nose and your hand cups his burning face. He couldn’t help but stare helplessly at your face. Your beautiful, terrifying face. 

“Yet you don’t want me to stop,” it was a casual statement. No tremors or wavers in your voice; it was the truth. You place the palm of your hand on his flushed chest, sliding up and around the back of his neck, “I can taste your desire.”

He curses your ability to understand his body. How your hands ignite a path of fire wherever they caress. How your searing kiss to the tender spot on his neck makes him emit pathetic noise at the back of throat. How you press your clothed core on his lap and he jumps. His hands find the curve of your waist, pushing downwards for any relief to your cruel torture. He hates how your breathy laugh makes his pants tighter. 

“Please,” another whine.

Your smile shows no mercy, “Please what, Doctor?”

The way his name slips out of your mouth with a hint of cruelty, a dash of need, sends him in a spiral. You hands busy themselves with unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, making sure to trail your hands down his chest to his pelvis. The palms of your hands are cool against his flushed skin. He feels everything from the drumming of his two hearts to the slick accumulating on top of his pants. 

The Doctor doesn't need sex.

“I need you, love. Please—” your hips ground on him once more, nearly jumbling his speech “ —fuck me.”

Who were you to deny your beloved Doctor?

Grabbing his flushed face, you preoccupied his senses with the taste of your lips. The Doctor melted into you, eagerly meeting your kiss with equal vigor. His mind was close to blanking, something he never thought possible. It seemed the longer you indulged him the more dopamine seemed to numb his consciousness. 

You tangle into him until there’s no distinction from your body to his. Every gasp he emits makes you shiver. Every moan you slip makes The Doctor want to flip you over and show you how cruel you’ve been.

Pulling back, you take a look at The Doctor’s disheveled appearance. Pride swells in your chest seeing the almighty Doctor submit to your whims with just a kiss. The air tastes of his need and your spine tingles from The Doctor’s unspoken trust in you. A silent prayer; trust that you will alleviate the ache in his chest and underneath your lap. 

Sex was never something he needed. He can live without the intimacy of another. He’s done it for centuries so why not a century longer?

“Doctor,” your eyes close and brows furrow. The sound of your whine permeates the fog of his mind and zero in on the bliss on your face. 

The tension in your face relaxes and you allow yourself to give into the pleasure. The Doctor can't help but marvel at your expression. 

He can’t go a century longer. Not after meeting you—fucking you until neither of you can choke a sentence. The moment you allowed him to bury himself between your thighs, he knew sex wasn't something he craved. Sex in itself wasn't what he wanted.

No, what he wanted—needed—was you. How could he not? His body craves the love you pour into each drag of your finger. Your lingering kiss on his jaw that tingles for seconds after. A cheeky grin and a promise sealed with a wink. 

The sight of your undoing, all because of him is what he wants. Tossing your head back, screaming his name until you finally stop trembling. How you cling onto him like he’s the only solid thing in the world. 

Selfishly, he only wants your pleasure and nothing else. 

“I love this,” a hushed confession; a bright smile on your face, “I love you.”

Your words send fire into his blood. No matter how many times that phrase has been uttered, it still makes his two hearts stop. 

Air hits The Doctor’s length and you are delighted in the hiss he lets out. You move your soaked underwear to the side and allow The Doctor to buck his hips up. The head of his cock nudges your entrance and you have to bite down a groan.

“How do you want it, hm?” you dip close to his ear to ensure he never misses a word. Lining up his length towards your center, you delight in his stuttered breathing, “Slow and gentle?”

You dropped your hips downward and watched as The Doctor’s head tilted back, baring his throat to you. Your cunt stretches to accommodate the intrusion, but the pleasure it brings lights the fire in your stomach. Reaching for the back of The Doctor’s head, you force his head up.

Wild green eyes stare back at you. You imagined your expression is no different. 

“Or do you prefer I fuck you instead?” 

[cowgirlcherrie]

❍ ACERBUS ! ━━ ellie williams.

⤹ pairing: vampire! ellie x slayer! reader

synopsis: the undead is restless, and an immortal blood sucker arrises for her last dance on earth. Beholding a slayer who has greater plans to lower the blood hungry vampire back into the ground

content: 18+ MDNI! blood mention. death/ talks of death. violence. betrayal. gaslighting. manipulation. hunting/killing. v similar to buffy the vampire slayer. kissing. talks of sex but not directly smut, smut adjacent honestly. vampire! slayer! abby but strictly platonic to the reader. L-Bombs. betrayal. weapons (no guns just daggers n stakes). Ellie is super damon salvatore + katherine coded in this. food play(with cherries). biting. sub-ish loser! ellie. Toxic/dark! ellie

Adficio. To weaken, discourage. To damage or to break.

Adficio was your finger. Coated in the saltiest vibrant red, gooey, and thick. Liquids dripped down the sides of the cushioned flesh and flowed never-ending through you. It tasted metallic, iron pulsating through the liquid; and salty, overly salted. Your tongue ran over the edge of your finger at your paper cut. It stung miserably but you had to get back to work.

As if it wasn’t already late, the sun setting with a musky burnt orange across the sky peeking through the rounded church glass windows of the artifact museum you were ecstatic to go home. Excited to take the warmest shower until the water was scorching hot against your skin and sleep comfortably in your queen-sized plush bed.

You weren’t expecting any more customers this evening, especially with recent town curfews due to mysterious deaths you were preparing to leave right after the key twisted in the lock. With 20 minutes left until closing, you finished dusting off the case of the bookshelf, putting the cream coffee-tinted paper (with your blood still tinting a corner) away into the hefty black book with gold embedded in the spine. 

It was an interesting piece of literature, somewhere amongst the lines of old-town supernatural lore and purely fiction but you loved it. It made you hungry, yearning for just a bite wanting more, wanting to sink your teeth into your own flesh. It was important and delicate thin papered copies; and faulty legal documents about a vampire who was rumored to live forever. Pictures; missing from the pages with the name scribbled out in white out. No gun, no knife, no magical life-threatening injury could kill her and she was forever cursed with the pain and treachery to live forever. Although you knew it wasn’t real you still felt yourself being a conspiracist and empathetic. Almost remorseful for the forever young vampire who didn’t ask for a life of immortality. Everything was a little unfair, even for the mundane. 

A bell chimed, signally that someone had walked into the museum. Thick-soled boots against the dark wood, creaking beneath them with every step. Shunned light on a lanky and average-height girl, drenched in black from head to toe. You naturally ignored her presence, that was what the bell was for; for questions and giving you the excuse to actually be bothered. So you continued your lonesome activities as proceeded. Picking up your thick wool scarf, wrapping it around your neck in loops; turning off the monitors, and locking the registers. 

DING! 

Ellie hit the bell with a toothy smirk on her face. Eyeing your figure almost as if you were a bakery-crafted treat as Ellie ran her tongue against the tip of her pointy canines. 

“Hi” 

Just Hi? You scrunched up your face in confusion at the girl’s rather awkward and sudden intro, her voice was raspy yet soft n direct but she kept her communication clear. If you were being honest she looked dead. Skin pale and drained of any colors besides her cheeks and the root red on her lips, sunken circles around her green ember eyes. She didn’t even look real.

“We are about to close so any prolonged question can wait until tomorrow.” you confessed, keeping it short and sweet, as the girl in front of you only frowned. 

You turned your back for a second, reaching into the mini locker behind the desk to grab your coat and your keys, pulling the fabric closer to your chest, when amidst the silence —

DING! 

Ellie hit the bell again, making you groan as you turned slowly to look at the auburn-haired girl showcasing a sarcastic smile before reverting her face to a serious expression. 

“I am Ellie, and you…you look like you can help me” Ellie whispered sweetly; playfulness rang in her voice as she looked down at the black book that are on the counter. Drool almost dripped out as she looked at the book with her lips parted. 

“Did you miss the part where I said we were—”

“Closing soon, yeah yeah I got it. Don’t care, Listen I just need this book and I promise, I’ll be out of your hair” Ellie pleaded bringing her hands up in a prayer position as she gave you a pout. Slowly gliding her ring-coated fingers against the book, making you rush to pull on it from the other end.

“Sorry not for sale! This isn’t a library” 

“But it’s…fiction, right? You can make another one” Ellie pulled it into her more, her hands slightly overpowering the grip you had on the book.

“Rules are rules, nothing leaves this museum if it’s not rented” 

“So what I am hearing is I can have it?”

“For $100”

Ellie gasped.

“For free? thanks!~” Ellie gave one final tug loosening the book from your very hands and pulling it into her chest. 

“I’ll be back! [HEY!] Don’t worry! Don’t stress probably not with the book! [That’s stealing!] Not if it’s rented! Thank you for your help!” Ellie shouted as she bolted out the door, sticky fingers webbed around the book as she ran out.

Making you let out an exacerbated sigh at the odds. You were so going to get fired. 

Adiuvo  To help or to aid, to assist

If someone told you that the museum book thief would be your girlfriend you would have told them they were lying. It’s been 3 months since the two of you met; 2 that you have officially started dating, although it didn’t feel like it. 

Ellie was more secretive than you thought. A mansion to herself where she lived alone which was oddly dark and gothic, you were for certain she would have caused a black paint shortage. Her house was emblematic of a period piece from the 19th century almost a screenshot of a fragment of time. The only odd thing was the mirrors being covered in every corner. A black satin cloth draped over the gold ribbed mirrors almost stapled there with a DO NOT TOUCH! 

Ellie hated pictures, she hated phones and settled on a rather outdated Blackberry where she really could only text and make important calls.

Ellie also disappeared often during the day, you only ever really saw her when it was rainy or pushing 8 pm. She’d go ghost on a sunny day but made up for it by pampering you with gentle kisses until you were coated in purple at your neck. 

For all of her cons; sins and flaws; aka the disappearing act she made up for it every time. She made it impossible for you to leave. Caging you in by gifting you things that only a fool would leave behind. She gave you a gift of a dainty necklace, as her hands rubbed against your neck to your shoulders placing it right at the center, locking the clasp, and begging you to never take it off. Ellie’s hands didn’t move from behind you when she gave you the necklace that night. It was almost as if she tempted to choke you with it until you listened to her. So you nodded, grabbing onto the little charm, before bringing up a hand to your nose; scrunching your face up at the weird smell the necklace was emulating. Almost like rosemary, thieves, and rotting onion. But you didn’t ask questions, you couldn’t before she whisked you away with a brief kiss to your lips, nibbling at your moisturized lips. 

“You love me, right?” 

You loved her. With all your precious human beating heart you loved her. Loved her so much that you allowed her to get vulnerable with you that night in the bedroom.

Bashful yet bitchy and sarcastic Ellie became demonic, rough, and perfectly submissive. Ellie was a sucker for fruits. The one human food that didn’t make her stomach queasy and the only thing that could satisfy her cravings for your blood. Preferably all red to enhance the eroticism of the taste.

Ellie found passion in draining the juice out of cherries, swirling her tongue over the plump treat poking her fangs out, before dipping her head down gliding the juices amongst your neck from her tongue.

Ellie repeated this action again. Taking the gentle cherry and squeezing it over your neck, swirling its juices onto your skin with her slender fingers before chewing it whole. Licking her finger tips as she swallowed the fruit whole tossing the pit to the floor.

Ellie watched as your neck dripped the dark crimson liquid, rushing to lick it up; before any of it reached your sheets to leave a fresh splosh stain of red. Ellie was drunk off of the sight of you. Licking over you like a lollipop as her tongue scraped your neck, getting close to your ear.

Ellie lost control.

between the bittersweet taste of the cherries, your fresh and loud perfume it was driving her crazy. Ellie thought her head was screwed on tight, but smelling the scent of one she would call her lover Ellie wanted to do nothing more than cover you in her own. Mask you from the world, hiding you away in greed and hunger.

Her hands gripped at the sheets, fist balled up as she masked a moan struggling to do so when your hand was in her pants. Ellie unfolding like a red lace satin ribbon until she was nothing but a soul. Climax rising deeper…and deeper. You were rubbing up and down in between her folds as she shuttered to hold herself up. Your fingers wet and covered in her juices enough for the wetness to fill the room with a simple pat.

Ellie took the initiative to dig her own hand in between your sleep shorts, mirror your hand motions as the lewd sounds escaped your lips in pure appeasement. Clawing at her back like a cat with your freehand.

Ellie was heavy breathing as her pitch got louder and higher, hips bucking as her hair clung to her forehead in fits of sweat.

Ellie turned into nothing but a moaning mess that night. Shrouding her head in your neck pampering kisses until she couldn’t control the cobra shake of her sharpened fangs pricking her tongue, offsetting her tastebuds. No, she couldn't.

Ellie's mind was shouting a mixture of no's and yes's as she tried to pull away only for you to pull her closer. Ellie let out an animalistic growl muttering an oh fuck before she sunk her teeth into your neck.

“Fuck…wait” Ellie moaned out. She was glad you couldn’t see her face, eyebrows furrowed but her eyes a deep red as veins started to crawl through her skin preparing her to finish off the feed.

Ellie knew if she fed off of you she wouldn’t be able to stop. Until you were one of her, a vampire and your beating heart stopped. Like Ellie needed you, she needed the book; she was going to complete the prophecy.

It starts with you, her perfect pawn.

You tasted like a rich pomegranate in the summer, Ellie’s fangs pulsating as it was deep in the flesh on your neck. Shaking your tender flesh in between her teeth like a dog.

Ellie didn't draw blood but punctured the skin, wincing at the sound of your skin separating between her fangs through her gentle ears. You pushed her away squeezing your eyes closed in pain. Skin pulsing and stinging as her mouth left your neck.

“Ow!- did you just…did you just bite me?”

The redhead stopped, freckles coated a red flush amongst her pale skin, Ellie rambled a hundred sorries. Like a deer gone hunting the cherry juice stained her chin and around her mouth as if she had been messy eating and playing into a ruby lipstick. Stumbling and tripping over her feet as she rushed to put her shoes on and head for your front door as you shouted her name behind her.

Her hair was frazzled, her leather jacket discarded, and her fly unfortunately down.

Leaving you in a mess of saliva and cherry juice; with a pulsating bite mark in your kneck.

48 hours and a complicated reddit search later, with Ellie out of your hair; due to her shame and embarrassment was enough time for a blonde hair slayer to play witness protection.

You were steadily growing frustrated at the repetition of the doorbell ringing as the person on the other end was hitting it like a childish teenager playing ding-dong ditch. Rushing to the door slamming it open to be met with a tall buff blonde who was giving you a perfect smile. Likewise to Ellie, she was notably pale, the color drained from her face almost fading away to her hair making her look like a stoned statue. Thick raybands on her eyes as she held up a terribly condition detectives badge.

“Sorry to cause a disruption, but are you y/n?” The girl spoke up, leaning into her one arm that was posted up against the door creating a distance before the two of you. 

You remained silent pushing your knit cardigan closer to cover up your chest in the nippy pre-winter air. 

“I’m Abby, Abby Anderson and I believe you know someone who is being a threat to this town.”

You froze, eyeing Abby in front of you as she dug around into her leather jacket pocket, plucking out a very old square picture. Placing the picture face down into your hands allows you to unveil it as if it were a gift. Curiosity got the best of you, aching and throbbing fingertips as you vastly whipped it over to view your lover. Your heart felt as if a chain wrapped tightly around the delicate artery feeling as if the wind had knocked out of you. It was Ellie. Your Ellie but this time she was wearing Victorian clothing, a white blouse peeking through as it was a perfected headshot photographed with just the right amount of dusting and age. She was the missing piece of the book. The name scribbled out it was all her -- the book was all hers.

“I don’t…” you begin flipping the picture back over and putting it in front of Abby, with your hand out “I don’t know who this is. . .”

“I knew you would say that”

Abby snickered as she looked down rubbing her boots against your welcome matt, 

“I think its time we chat. Could I have a glass of water please” Abby sends a smile as you prepare to turn your back on the blonde in front of you

Abby was always ahead. Ahead of Ellie, ahead of you, she had been hunting for years. After an accidental bite forced her to succumb to vampirism, life only got hard. Abby shrouded herself away finding comfort in putting down ruthless bloodsuckers who had no better job than to compel humans and make them into a tasty blood margarita. Abby didn’t want the same fate for you. Watching Ellie like a hawk; perhaps a stalker. It was all for a good cause. Ellie was awfully sloppy with how she carried the people she fed from. Sinking her teeth into an innocent being as she drank…and drank until their bodies fell cold and limp against the pavement. Ellie let out a sly moan in satisfaction as she watched the life get sucked out of her victims. The blood dripped down her chin, blood-drunk as she laughed in satisfaction as she licked the blood off of her fangs, and from around her lips being careful not to waste a single damn drop. 

Ever since you got in the picture, Ellie’s sloppiness got worse than normal, her drinking patterns have gotten sloppier, and parts of her brain toyed with her. As she strolled the streets at night looking for her midnight snack, sucking the salted liquid through her fangs with her luscious eyes closed, fluttering against the tip of the apple to her cheeks. Ellie saw you. When her eyes closed she pretended that they were you, hell she would never actually do this to you but she couldn’t get your toxic scent out of her mind. Moaning into the neck that she feeds whispering your name as her fangs dig in deeper and suddenly she loses all control, killing the being in the process. Ellie was deeply flawed; allowing a human to get in between the priorities of her stone-cold heart, but whatever she wanted she was certain she would have. 

“I think you have to invite me in first, it’s impolite for me to walk into your wonderful home without permission” Abby confessed, lying straight through her teeth, she didn’t care what was right or wrong she just needed permission or else she wouldn’t be allowed in. 

Deja vu hit you, remembering how Ellie made the same statement the first time she came over to visit you apart from the museum. 

“You may come in”

Acerbus  Bitter, gloomy, and dark. 

Vampire. 

That was a word that was enough to make your stomach curl up into a million knots.

The cold ones. 

No one could have prepared you to put your girlfriend to rest. The person who you saw forever with, wanting to get married and have a couple of children too, was all nothing but a lie and impossible. It was so refreshing to you, like a kiss of air, and nature healing itself, but slowly your emotions and your joy turned into a rotting flower, decaying along with all of your emotions tinted black. Over the course of a few weeks, you’ve sharpened your knives and coated your doors in some kind of vampire repellent given to you by Abby. The blonde has taught you how to hunt and detect vampires, the power of the stake, and what unfinished business Abby had with taking down Ellie.

Ellie on the other hand, you haven’t seen in a few days. Maybe it was because you were distracted; the auburn girl turning to nothing but a whisper and rattle of the leaves, spiraling into another one of her disappearing acts. 

Now you stood at her very own tombstone, which seemed rather distasteful; bless you, but you were trespassing. Trailing behind Abby like a lost puppy as she took a hammer, drawing back her arm to slam onto the lock that was Ellie’s above-ground grave. Abby came up with a bright and elite plan on how to trap Ellie back at the museum, but the two of you couldn’t have done it without the weapon that knocked her into a stone coma for ages. No, it doesn’t kill her, but it would slow her down and freeze her until it was time for her to be brought back; which would be never. You thought it was beautiful, fresh marble and sleek black with roses surrounding the front entrance into her small 4x4 square, which the main entrance was blocked by a gate — with a hefty lock which you assumed was where Ellie’s casket had been placed. 

“The roses are fresh, I think it’s best if we hurry” Abby whispers, matching the tone of the wind that was spirling above the two of you.

Abby took her hands dragging them down at the lock which opened the gate to Ellie’s tomb. The inside was barely lit, with unlit candles surrounding Ellie’s coffin that had the lid wide open with chains dangling from it. Modern-day gothic– and eerie to the touch. As you took careful steps walking around it; it seemed almost impersonal. You wanted to cry and shrivel up, that the way you’d been living for 3 months was a lie, running your hands around the perimeter of her coffin as if you were looking down at a body inside. But there was nobody and you knew the worst would have to come for Ellie to soon return to her rightful place. Abby however got right to work, brushing past you to tap every corner of the brick, reaching for Ellie’s casket, and digging through the built-in cushions. Abby grunts until she stops when her fingers prick a sharp tool. 

“Ow!... I got it” Abby hissed as she pulled out a thick and sleek shiny silver dagger with Latin scriptures engraved into the handle and metal of the knife. Abby briefly wiped it against the leather, twirling it in her hand before taking a bag of mercury and dipping the tip of the knife into the material. All you could do is watch, stake in the back pocket of your jeans that was covered by your jacket. 

“So what now?” you pushed, putting a hand on your hip.

“We get the fuck ou—-”

Abby stopped talking briefly pulling you into a shadow, blocked by a pillar making you go unnoticed.

“What are you—” 

Abby shushed you, reaching a hand up to cover your mouth as you now heard what Abby was hearing. Strong, sloppy footsteps, walking into the tomb as the gate to the entranced creaked.

The stranger groaned before letting out a sniff into the air. 

“Y/n I know you’re here.” Ellie croaked, her voice slurring as she limped towards her own casket hovering over it with a loud creak as your body shook beneath Abby’s gentle touch. 

“The cats out of the bag babe, fuckin’... let’s just talk c’mon” Ellie pleaded as her boots squeaked against the floor as she was visibly pacing. 

You shook your head as Abby briefly turned your body around whispering to you.

It’s the only way. 

With that Abby pushed you out from the hiding spot making you let out a yelp as you stumbled onto the floor in front of Ellie. She looked demonic, unreal almost. Blood dripping down her chin spread against her chest, and her hair was a filthy mess. Her once-green eyes glowed a sweet red under the pale moonlight as she watched you crumble on the floor trying to stand up.

“There you are~” Ellie teased as she took a few steps towards you making you crawl back.

“Thought we were gonna have to play hide and seek glad you’re so smart” Ellie taunted as she turned around kicking over a few candles surrounding her casket. 

“What did you do?” You shouted, groaning as you used the nearby wall to push your weight up.

“Who did you kill?” 

Ellie laughed. You frowned; disgustedly watching as Ellie only laughed at your panicked state. She thought your fear was funny, she could smell it off of you. 

“Why? You scared?” Ellie jabbed tilting her head with a really? expression on her face. 

Ellie reached her arm out for you to take which you stared at as if she was infected, so she took it back rolling her eyes. Ellie slid off her leather jacket and threw it onto the floor at your feet giving you a perfect view of her spaghetti-strapped cami and the tattoo on her arm.

“I think of you when I feed you know…as my teeth sink down into someone so innocent, like a deer…”Ellie began as she walked towards you slowly making you walk backward moving away.

“Get away from me” you gritted taking the stake out from your back pocket and crossing it over your front pointing side up.

“Ooh~” Ellie teased as she walked even closer until the stake was lined up with her heart. “What are you gonna do, kill me?” Ellie whined giving you a false pout similar to when you first met her in the museum and she stole the book.

“Not even a kiss goodbye?” Ellie taunted, as her body hovered over yours pressing deepening to the stake that was carving into her shoulder.

“Only you could hurt me like this, god what are you doing?” Ellie whispered, with that the waterworks came through as you started to cry, sobbing viciously letting out cries of “get away” as she was in front of you.

“Shh…Shh…Shh” Elie started grabbing at your arms with a firm hold from the base of your wrist gripping tightly. “Don’t cry” Ellie comforted you as she kept one arm around yours holding the dagger and another one up at your temple to which she leaned in giving you a kiss on the cheek staining your cheek with blood. Not her blood or your own but someone else, making you cry even more.

“I don’t- I can’t…we’re over Ellie” You cried out, sniffling in between sobs as your head dropped in defeat. 

“I’m sorry I lied to you. . . I’m sorry for what I did. . .I can’t control it, you know that right?” Ellie took a large gulp as she backed away from you shaking out her hands. Ellie was suddenly getting nervous, panicking at the way you were crying.  “I just get these urges, I only feed when I want to feed off you so I don’t hurt you. Babe, please listen to me”

“I have to kill you.” You dropped the bomb as Ellie’s sudden panicked state turned defense; she was getting angry and hostile. “I let you into my home…I let you kiss me, I let you fuck me and you didn’t think once to tell me who you really were”

“How is that fair?”

Ellie was numb, staring at you; her lover with a deadpanned expression on her face, deprived of any emotion, she was being straightforward “If you are gonna kill me don’t use that it’s not gonna work” Ellie spat, backing away as she walked over to her coffin staring down at the white cushioning inside. Finally wiping her chin with the back of her hand. 

“You’re gonna let me kill you?” you inquired, lowering the dagger by your waist as you watched Ellie watch over her own coffin.

“Only you. Because I know eventually you’ll miss me and take it out and set me free.”

“You don’t know that” you shook your head.

“But I do, I always do” Ellie took the initiative to reach into the coffin similar to how Abby did when the two of you first entered the tomb, patting the bedding as her eyes scrunched up in confusion as she looked away from you.

“Wait where is it”

You knew what she was looking for.

“Y/n what did you do with the dagger that was in this coffin…god what is that smell who is in here with you” Ellie was growing pissed off; anger nagging at her as she was looking control again, fangs poking out on instinct as she grew hostile within the room.

“It’s just me…” 

Ellie shook her head closing the coffin. “No someone else is here I can feel them” 

“Ellie…it’s just me” you whispered, trying to convince her as best as you possibly good. There was no way she would buy it, but you could lie your ass off and hope she wouldn’t sniff out the hound. 

“You can’t kill me with that, I say you just go for it and let whoever took the main piece finish me off” 

“Ellie I can’t—”

“I love you!”

You froze, you were her lifeline her weakness. The tether that kept her together as your soul was indefinitely embedded in her own. I love you, so sentimental and meaningful you didn’t wanna use it lightly and in this moment you knew she wasn’t using it against you. 

“Hey…shhh don’t cry, I love you” 

You had no time to prepare, lost in her lustful green eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of you. As Abby snuck behind her, stabbing Ellie in the back making the both of you let out a gasp. Ellie looked down to her chest seeing the dagger poking through the other side of her body. Black blood pooled out and meshed with her black camisole. Ellie tilted her head to look at you, who had your arms steady around her shoulders so she wouldn’t tip over. Your Ellie gave you a faint smile. Your fear-stricken face, eyes wide as you looked at Abby who paced around Ellie to see if the dagger even worked. 

“H-have…fun”

“What?” you jabbed, face scrunching up in confusion. Ellie didn’t look afraid to die, hell she knew you would need her. Her words slurred as she was slowly succumbing to an endless slumber. 

“Have fun, my blood is….blood ‘n your veins…I’ve put…I put my blood in your tea. Good luck being a vampire baby fangs”

Baby fangs. 

Abby shouted NO! Behind you, but it was far too late. Ellie took out her hidden arm revealing a similar dagger to her very own; raising her arm up reflexively to jab it into your own neck as your blood started to pool out. No, it wasn’t going to kill you permanently. However, it would trigger a death into human you and allow you to become what Ellie was. What you tried so hard not to be. 

A bloodthirsty vengeful vampire. 

You panicked at your slow-beating heart; transcending you into a state of permanent drowsiness and immortality. Beats moving slower and slower as if your heart was put in a freezer locker and your body was chilling over. There was nothing you could do, it was too late. Tears pricked your eyes as a salty clear tear dripped down your face as you felt yourself lose consciousness collapsing on top of your already stoning lover. She betrayed you, the sneaky sly fox was ahead of you. A wolf in sheep’s clothing 

“I told you I loved you.”

© cowgirlcherrie

[divinehedons]

peaches.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.1k words

Summary: You're Joel's slice of paradise. And he's not so keen on sharing.

Warning: explicit content ahead, minors do NOT interact. porn with a little plot, somnophilia, oral (f receiving), explicit p in v sex, cockwarming (if you squint), possessive!Joel, submissive!reader, joel needs a hug (or some fucking, who knows), time is a continuum and canon is fluid, established relationship, sexism (not by joel), graphic depiction of violence, death, proceed with caution!

A/N: This is a first fic so be kind, be kind, be kind!

reblogs and comments much appreciated; requests are welcome!

All there was at the end of the world was time. Oceans of it, stretched out, endless, all encompassing, so much of it that Joel mostly feels it as the tightening of his chest. As if he lies in wait. As if by standing still, he could stop feeling so cornered. At some point, perhaps weeks after Sarah's death, the world had begun to feel like something that happened to him than something that he was moving in. The clocks stopped. The world moved on.

He just didn't know it would go on without him.

Solitude follows shortly thereafter, walking hand-in-hand with the unbearable weight of his grief. The void grows in the darkness. He was no stranger to insomnia; and there were nights where he woke heaving, feeling that primordial chaos grow, borne from the very cracks of his being.

Perhaps that was what made the discovery of paradise so much more sweeter. And paradise came, as he remembered it, with the sweetest doe eyes he ever did see.

The same doe eyes that looked to him now, pleading, begging, pulling him close to the unmade bed he had just risen from a few minutes ago. "Tommy'll be looking for me, darlin'," he had reasoned, only to surrender to the sweet sound of your whimper as you catch his lip in a sleepy kiss, as if asking him to take you completely from the realm of sleep that tried to pry you from him in the early hours of the morning.

"It's barely light out," you murmur, leaning into the caresses his callused hands pressed against the softness of your cheek. "Stay for a little."

He chuckles, watching the way your soft eyes travel over his features. Memorizing him in a way that reminded him how it felt to be so human. "I think you want me to stay forever, peach."

He likes imagining, sometimes. When the mornings are quiet, somewhere between the siren call of sleep and the irresistible taste of your cunt. He likes imagining that time, that which once had felt so empty and all-encompassing, slowly shrinking until all he could see was you, so tangible and within reach. Alive, soft with the breath of the living. So close that he just had to taste.

You had often woken with his tongue devouring your folds, moans subdued and oh-so-maddening. One look at your face was enough to nearly send him past the edges of his limits, hard cock wet and straining to immortalize you in that state of bliss for all eternity. It was where the nickname came. So easily, so languid. Something transcendant and yet all too natural.

"You're just sweeter than peaches, aren't you, sweetheart?" he had grumbled as his lips wrapped itself around your needy little clit, the sudden motion leading to the softest cry that made his knees buckle. His large hands would affix your legs more firmly over his shoulders. Then his left arm pinned down your grinding hips, all while two fingers from his right hand sank so easily between those weeping folds he'd gladly lay his life down for for if it meant having this. Always.

"Oh, fuck, Joel-" you weep, tugging on his hair so needily as your body arches to try and capture the peak of his movements. "Oh, please... pleasepleasepleaseplease-"

He'd raise his head, devil that he is, wetness coating his beard in a way that almost made you pull him close and kiss him, desperate to taste yourself on his tongue. "Use your words properly, sweet girl..."

He likes to pretend, too. Pretend that he doesn't care so much; that the thought of losing his one last tether to sanity doesn't drive him to fits of boiling hot rage. He'd pretend there weren't nights where he simply lay awake with your head on his chest, the soft lull of your breast reminding him you're alright. So he takes. He takes and takes and takes. He is insatiable. You are divine.

"Want to cum, sir, please-" A growl escapes him, sinking back between your legs to savour the sweetness that seeps like ichor for the gods. And if this was heaven, he'd never want to be parted from that fount of sustenance. Even when he's bursting full. There is never too much when it comes to you. His soaked fingers reach up so easily, welcomed by your warm lips as you suckled on the fruit of your own desire.

For a moment, he wonders if this was what Adam witnessed in the garden of Eden. Was this the very same temptation that forever damned humanity? If it was, he muses as he lets you finish, then he'd gladly set the world on fire in worship of you and only you.

"Give it t'me, peach. s'alright," he whispers, cradling your hips as you trembled in his arms, completely consumed in the ferocity of the riptide, emanated by the sweetest cry between your parted lips. The gush of your release eases him into his own bliss, the worries of their post-apocalyptic clarity melting away in the haze of watching each and every reaction coaxing your features.

He blinks, and he is taken back to your lips, the early dawn, his brother waiting at the edges of paradise. Reality slips between the cracks, and he sighs, gently laying you back amongst the tumbled sheets.

"You seein' a movie later?" he asks, to which you smiled, nodding shyly as you attempted to raise yourself again.

"Mhm. But Maria needed help with something, so that goes first." You palm at his scruffy beard, leaning up to place a trail of kisses against his covered cheek.

"Go back to sleep, hm?" You groan, and he chuckles at his stubborn girl. "Y'need the rest." He slowly departs from you, as if by being pressed against your skin for a few moments more meant keeping the scent of your skin close to him for longer.

"Like you don't, old man," you'd mumble, rolling over and letting sleep take you again. "You'll come home, yes?"

It freezes him. It makes his heart ache. He hears the hesitation, the worry, the things you had always tried to hide to make things feel a little more normal. He swallows, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Always, peaches."

The silence enraptures everything beyond the hubbub and safety of Jackson. It was routine, it was repetitive. Sometimes people would let their guards down. Never him, though.

New recruits huddled together, waiting to be paired, to be picked, to be chosen. As if they couldn't wait to feel the chilling presence of death in the form of a gun. The possibility of violence, child's play that didn't know any better; didn't know what others had to lose from the battlefield just for them to be desperate to jump right into it.

Joel keeps his good ear to the group, picking out artillery with the precision of someone who had been to too many battles. In the mumblings, he catches out a voice.

"What about that pretty thing that likes movies?" He hears your name and traces it back to the face that dared speak of you. "She'd probably look pretty on her knees. I bet she could-"

"Who's the kid?" Joel mumbles, head snapping to see his brother.

"Christopher. He's with me."

The blood pumps in his ears. The thought of those thoughts, ones that only belonged to him, ones only he should be privy to, filling up someone else's brain... "'m taking him."

His sweet peach, glorious, eternal, divine. You didn't deserve this, do you?

He told you once that you'd drive him mad. You giggled, leaning over the dining room table to kiss him gently. "You're all soft," you teased, pinching his cheek before letting him go back to his work. He rarely admits to the things that haunted him. For so long, he had tried to hide it all from you- the blood on his hands, the violence that he had lived with, devoured like sticky fruit on a summer's day. The two of you do not speak of the nightmares that would wake him, only to settle at the feel of your kisses and the weight of your body on his.

He never believed in religion, and perhaps he would never again step foot in a cathedral. But one thing that felt right was confession. A word from you and he would come spilling, emptying his grief on a platter for the goddess to consume gloriously. He'd tell you of Sarah, of Tess, sometimes in a mess of hushed whispers. Fragments of incomplete sentences and the sweet scent of your skin as you held him.

One word from her and he had never felt so clean.

Perhaps madness was how he ended up here, looming over the same boy who had dared saying that about you. The onslaught of violence had remained blurry in his head. Now Christopher slumps against the nearest wall, face and flesh combined in a gruesome depiction of his rage. His heart thunders in his ears, and he lifts the boy's head by his hair.

"Hey, hey," he grumbled, gently patting his cheek. "Look at me. Christopher, isn't it?"

The kid sputters, coughs up blood as he nods. "Y-yes, sir. I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Joel flicks his knife open trailing the blade to his thigh. "I don't know what you want, man!"

"You don't talk about women like that, kid." He watched those young eyes widen, pained cry escaping him as he sinks the blade into the meat of his thigh.

"Fuck, fuck!" The gritting of teeth, the taste of blood, the smell of it permeating the room. And beneath it all is the slowly trickling smell of fear. Joel looks, growling as he twists the knife harder, letting Christopher scream. "I didn't know she was yours, man. I'm sorry-"

"Not very bright are you, kid?"

The screams would echo in the room for hours. He could've killed him. Perhaps he should've. All because he had dared to look at her that way. His peach. All because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

When he enters Jackson, he sees you standing there, pacing, cheeks red, hands trembling. He swore he felt his heart skip at the sight of Maria trying to comfort you, assure you that he was alright. It was only when those soft doe eyes find him that you finally believed her. You're running, and all he could do is stand there, let you collapse in his arms as the tears finally escaped you.

"They said," you had whispered, tugging him by the lapels of his coat, "they said there was an encounter- someone died, and... and..." It is a few minutes before they had finally begun to walk home, with you tucked to his side as your tears dry with the wind.

Within the confines of the house, it is all too easy. All too natural to surrender to the needing kisses you had peppered against his jaw, hands tugging off the blood-specked coat that now seemed to weigh on his shoulders. His large hands pull you close by the cheeks, kissing you wantonly and with a low grumble. The drying blood on his hands smear the unblemished skin of your cheek, marking you with the evidence of his sacrifice. Looking to you, breathless and inevitably all the more in love, he tries not to lose it then and then.

There had always been something primal about loving you. Something about the way he seemed to lay everything at your feet, like a devoted man in the presence of worship. Something about the way your cheeks bear his sacrifice now, and the way you don't even notice, already whining for another kiss after he had stared for too long.

"I'm right here, peach. It's okay," he whispers softly, arms carrying you to the couch, kissing once, twice, a few more times before he moves to the crook of your neck. He hears the soft sniffles, feels the wetness of your tears. "Hey, hey..."

Your arms wrap around him in the same way they did in the morning before he left. You pretend sometimes, too. You pretend that the feeling of his heart beating against your cheek whenever you lay on his chest settles you instead of terrifying you. You pretend time wouldn't steal him away and silently thank empty air whenever he returns home from whatever battlefield he emerges from.

Desperately, he marks you with his lips, the pressure of broken capillaries telling you everything you needed to know. That he's safe. He's alright. He did fulfil his promise after all.

Are you like me? you had wanted to ask once, do you leave marks on everything you love, too? When he looks at you with those eyes, it is all too easy to wrap your legs around his waist and let him place you on his lap, calloused hands exploring your thighs as if grounding himself back to the reality of your warmth.

Do they always leave, Joel?

All you taste is the metallic flavor of iron on his lips, clothed core pressing and grinding against his hardening cock. You finally speak again.

"Never, ever terrify me like that again." He'd smirk, pushing back your hair to observe your face, committing it to memory as if it would be the last time he will have you like this.

"Alright, baby. Alright. Let me take care of you, now," he murmurs as he lifts you, arms tensing as he carried you to the bedroom, to the sheets you had fixed after he left. You looked just as divine sprawled on his bed, just as divine when he had stripped you into nothing but your underwear. He couldn't help but admire the lacy pair you had on, watching your face redden as he sinks into another kiss once more. "Did you wear all this for me?"

Your meek nod is all he need. All he required for a groan to reverberate against your skin. "Wanted to surprise you, sir." He kisses down the valley of your torso, admiring the way you had turned into putty in his hands. You moan out his name, gasping as that devious tongue of his traced the outline of your folds through your underwear. You feel him press against your entrance, sinking just enough to be felt but not enough to feel good. His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans, your voice driving him into shambles of desire.

"Fuck, Joel, don't tease," you'd almost beg, enough for him to smirk, shushing your desperate whines as he pulls you on his lap whilst he leans back.

"Alright, peach. Take what you want. S'all yours, isn't it?" You hum in agreement, leaning up to kiss him, leading his hands to your underwear and almost begging for him to take it off. He stares, a soft smirk on his features before his hands tear off the flimsy material that kept him from enjoying you.

"I'm all yours, Joel," you whisper, reaching for his pants and lowering it just enough to free him. His eagerness leaves you humming, moaning into the warm air of the bedroom. It was too much, you had been so good.

You'd give up forever just to have him like this.

You let his dripping cockhead catch where you're wet and dripping, eventually just sinking to the hilt. The stretch is glorious, it is otherworldly. He grips your hair and catches you in a desperate kiss as you slowly impale yourself on him. You moan. You whine, you tremble, and you practically sob.

"It's not like this with other people, is it?" you whisper, to which he growls and turns you over, legs thrown over his arms as he desperately ruts where you're perfect and absolutely divine. "Fuck, I'll always need you, Joel."

"I know-" he cuts you off, holding your face as you both fall into a heavenly rhythm. "Absolutely fuckin' perfect for me, peach..." He knows he had found that one spot that always drove you so wild when he hears that high squirm that escapes you. He presses more kisses and hickeys against his skin, as if reminding himself you're all his. Gently, he lets you suck on his bloodstained fingers, letting it quiet you as his thrusts intensify.

He wonders if you see just what you do to him. He wonders if you know that just the threat of someone else having you is enough to send him into blind and needy thrusts. He wonders if you know your touch is the only salve that takes away the rage bubbling under his skin.

It's a few moments more before he takes his fingers away, watching as you hold on to him, begging to let go, to slowly release.

"I'm all yours," you cry out against his shoulder, and he has to bite your skin to control himself. To let you go first. "Please let me, I need to- I'm so- so fucking close-"

He lays you back down, letting the fingers you had wet with your tongue reach down and rub your throbbing clit. "Look at me, peach. Come on, baby, show me those eyes of yours."

You look, doe-eyed, soft, and absolutely angelic in the face of debauchery that he literally growls.

"That's it. Give it to me, peach. Fuck, yes-" One word from him and you're letting go, eyes trained on him as your features contort into the most heavenly view he had seen. He feels you tighten, clench, and spasm against him that it pushes him just enough.

"That's such a good girl," he rasps, catching your lips in one more kiss as he spills between your folds, bodies pressed and coupled in an inseparable hug. The kiss dwindles as he presses his nose against your bloodstained cheek, breathing in the scent of your skin painted with his unannounced present. "That's it. Such a good, good girl, aren't you?"

You whine, moaning softly as you kissed what you can reach of him, heart racing as you basked in how gloriously full you felt. How gloriously loved. "I'm absolutely in love with you, Joel," you whisper, reddening as he kisses you again.

Joel Miller is a man of very few words. But you know you matter to him too. Just how much was another question entirely. It takes moments before he catches his breath. A few moments more before he's moving.

Another whine escapes you, and he peers down worriedly at your pouting features. "Stay," you whisper, pulling him until he lay his weight against your fragile, marked-up body. "Just like this, please."

He could have sworn he felt his cock twitch at the thought.

"Fuck, peaches," he mumbles, surrendering into your arms. "You might just be the death of me."

[anetdummy]

I did my redesign once again and before anything I just want to say that this character is like my avatar so to speak

...

(don't criticize me for creating a lore for the avatar , everyone does what they want on the internet)

Anet will no longer have the same lore, she will no longer be a sans, she will be a normal skull, she has a family, it's just that She left the nest at 20 and then began to have powers from her parents, mostly from her biological parent who was a clown, she would use these powers for good.

Anet Powers:

1- Change your bones in your body without problems.

2- Take out objects at will and to your own taste.

3- She can also use objects created by herself.

4- It can deliver strong blows, its force is reflected by green flames (or light).

5- She is distorted but this is because she resembles cartoons from ancient times. At the same time, reality is not a power that she can control since it is rather an aspect of her, she ends up using this power unconsciously. 6- Creation of portals, although he only uses it to travel to places and escape from certain situations than to stop an attack (he does it very rarely and has difficulty using it).

Extra: - Rarely stretches. - Sometimes he manages to make big jumps. - He is disadvantaged by his emotions and poor memory. -He cannot die easily but he is not immortal. - She was not trained.

And the end :v

[bluestar22x]

The Fallen Warrior: Prologue

Pairing: Jaoel (Joel Miller) x OFC!Eva (Prologue)

Other Characters: Sarah, Thomas (Tommy Miller)

Summary: His memories of them are like clips from a highlight reel

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 6,700(ish)

Warnings: AU, butchered biblical lore for the sake of the plot, fowl language, violence, blood, smut (unprotected p in v), mild description of birth, death, grief, brief mention of rape and manipulative relationships by evil angels, mentions of suicidal thoughts, an almost attempt at suicide

Author’s Note: Thanks to @almostfoxglove for making the lovely moodboard for me!

xxx

The story of Adam and Eve is unarguably one of the most recognized stories from the Bible, if not the most. It tells of the first man and woman, and how they loss their immortality in exchange for tasting the forbidden fruit, lured by the snake that was Lucifer into yearning for its knowledge.

But Joel knew the truth behind the tale. The fruit was not a fruit at all, and the snake was not Lucifer, or even one of his minions.

No, the snake was love, and the fruit was pleasure.

x

Centuries later, he still dreams of them.

The memories containing them clipped like a highlight reel that he helplessly observes as he slumbers most nights.

It freshens the festering wounds on his soul; renews the agony he would do anything to numb permanently.

Almost anything.

He never would wish to forget the beginning. He only longed to erase the pain at the end.

x

Have you heard of Lucifer and how he and his aligned angels rebelled against God? How God banished them from Heaven for it and created Hell to be their prison?

Like any prison, Hell was not inescapable. Lucifer was able to influence humans from below, and his fellow fallen angels managed to slip through the exits, the gates of Hell, every once in a while. They influenced the humans, turned them from the light, from God, and the most sinful of the humans were punished too.

Their souls were sent to Hell, and with time, they became demons, Lucifer's minions. These demons were easier to summon to Earth, and became the biggest threat to humanity by sheer numbers.

God's angels were sent to Earth regularly to combat them. He also had a son who sacrificed himself in the hopes of saving as many souls as possible. The fight was still fairly matched.

Usually light and darkness balanced out, but every once in a while, usually when the fallen walked the Earth, darkness threatened all.

One of these times lasted decades. And in those decades the fallen fell into temptation, as were their natures. They saw the beauty of human women and sought them out, taking pleasure in them, tasting them, whether or not they were willing. Whether or not there was deception involved.

Inevitably, offspring resulted from these unions. Nephilim. Giants in the Bible, but deceptively human in truth. Dangerous all the same. They were overpowered and seen as a threat to humanity, so they were exterminated from the Earth.

A flood of blood was left in the wake of the war against them. Not since Lucifer's rebellion had the light been in such turmoil, for no matter how monstrous the nephilim were at times, they were still the children of their brethren.

Archangel Jaoel had been one of the many who struggled with the morality of the slaughter, advocating for imprisonment instead. But Archangel Michael, the leader of all angels in Heaven, God's right hand, held a zero tolerance. As far as he was concerned, nephilim were too big of a risk to let live. Better they die and let God and Lucifer decide where their souls ended up.

So all of Heaven's angels fell in line with his orders, even Jaoel.

Eventually the blood stains faded from his ethereal hands.

It didn't matter. He still remembered their faces.

x

There were many centuries of peace before the next battle between good and evil commenced. Demons were rising again in massive numbers, and many angels were sent to Earth to protect humans of interest. Humans that were important or going to be important someday.

Jaoel was amongst the angels sent down to play guardian angel, to his dismay. He was an archangel. He'd played messenger before, but never babysitter. He was a warrior. He wanted to fight, not stand around and observe a human for days on end in case a demon sought to extinguish their life.

He couldn't even comprehend how the human he was assigned could be important. Eva was a sheep farmer, living in the forest in seclusion, unusual for a woman of her time, but she had no qualities of a leader.

She was quiet, naturally so since she hardly ever interacted with other humans except to trade. She was soft, too emotional for her time. She mourned the animals she hunted; she sobbed for the lambs that never got to take their first breaths. She lived in her own little bubble, content with not knowing the outside world.

What demon would bother an attempt to corrupt her or take her life? They had no reason to harm a shepherd; no way to draw her towards the dark. Jaoel wasn't sure he'd ever seen a human so pure. Her eternal light an endearing companion to her God-given beauty. Her dark curls and rich bronze skin.

Her allure was sly, slinking slowly into the recesses of Jaeol's mind, igniting something deep within him that had never been awakened before. He felt it every time Eva talked kindly to her woolly wards. Every time she smiled. Every time she laughed or sang, her syrupy voice lulling him into temptation.

He was compelled to know her. For her to know him. He introduced himself to her as a human vagabond in need of work, using her kind heart against her, forcing proximity. She hired him and he began to help her mend fences and care for her sheep under the ruse. He had a lot to learn, but Eva was a patient teacher.

It was too late by the time he realized he'd gone too far; gotten too close, fallen into the trap many angels had before him. He'd convinced himself they could be friends, all the while the passions of human copulation dangerously plagued his daydreams. He knew enough of it, the science behind the physical act, to have a picture of it in mind, to understand it, though not the emotions and sensations linked to it.

He wished to experience it all with her, rational thought slowly losing its battle.

A battle that swiftly came to its pathetic end on a late summer morning almost a year to the day after he initiated their first interaction, six from the day he was assigned as her protector.

That day a demon made an attempt on her life and she'd witnessed his wrath in full glory as he easily plunged his angelic blade in its chest, smoky gray wings exposed for her to eyeball in great detail before he hid them away belatedly.

She was not afraid as he feared she would be, only grateful that a divine being was there to save her.

"Will you be leaving, now that the threat has been extinguished?" she inquired, her expression trained with the intention of hiding her warring emotions.

"I do not know," he answered honestly, allowing himself to brush his smooth fingertips along the contours of one of her cheeks, to touch her for the first time.

He drew in a sharp breath. Her skin was softer than he'd ever imagined.

Her warm brown eyes fluttered shut to his quiet affection finally expressed. She shared it with him.

"So what now?"

What now indeed. Was the demon her only threat or was there more to come? How soon would he be called back home if she was safe?

How much longer did they have?

Jaoel didn't want to wait to find out.

He pulled Eva to him, an iron grip on her upper arms, crushing his lips to hers with a ferocity that combated his inexperience. She melted in his hold, absorbing all of his need, accepting it, expressing her own in the form of a sweet moan that reverberated in his sensitive ears and etched itself permanently into his cerebrum.

He kissed her over and over again, unable to get enough of her divine taste. Years of longing, and she was finally his.

As he was hers.

Without spoken word they both expressed their yearning for more through those desperate kisses and touches to every part of each other they could easily reach without parting.

Eva slowly stepped backwards, leading him like a mythical siren into her home, a cottage perfect for two.

In the dim light of the stony dwelling they began to peel off their clothing, peppering kisses to each other's newly exposed skin as they did so.

"Have you ever done this before?" she asked between heaving breaths, her tone lacking judgement.

"Never," he replied, a drawn out groan accompanying his words as her right hand skimmed tantalizingly close to the waistline of his underwear, too close to the hardening bulge in his pants.

He could feel a heat blooming over his cheekbones. He had often prided himself with knowledge. To be as unsure as he was in their situation was humbling.

Eva smiled widely and placed a hand along his bearded jaw. "I will show you then."

He watched intensely as she removed his last garment then reached out for his right hand and guided it down her body, over the tops of her bared breasts and her soft stomach, not hesitating when his hand found the nest of dark hair between her hips, and only stopping when his fingers glided into her folds with her direction.

She was so warm and wet, more inviting than he could've hoped.

She gasped at the touch she'd instigated, swinging her head back, and Jaoel felt his stomach swoop at the sight of the sinful strain of her neck. He tugged her closer and sucked a bruise onto the skin over her vein there, and she hummed happily, basking in his affection.

"That's it," Eva murmured breathlessly. "Let what you see and feel guide you. I want it all, Jaoel. Everything you want. Everything you'll give."

With some men it would have been a dangerous promise, seen as permission to reveal their darkest desires, ones that shined a light on their cruelty, but she knew she could trust him. That he would take care of her. She'd known him well before she knew what he was, and what he was didn't matter. Only who he was. Her Jaoel. The man who tended to her sheep as attentively as she did. Who ate her every word. Who had never judged her for thinking out loud.

He hissed at her vow and rested his forehead against hers. "I want you all around me. I want to know exactly how it feels. But first I want to see how it feels."

He cupped her firmly where she'd left his hand and she got the message, silently showing him where her sensitive nub was and how to use his fingers to elicit a response from her.

He was mesmerized by what resulted - her quickening breaths, the unrestrained moans that tumbled out of her mouth, the pounding of her heart that sounded like thunder to his supernatural ears. Sweat glistened on her skin as she rocked herself into his touch, trying to get herself there faster, a desperate look on her face.

He found her hole with his index finger, without her help, and hooked it inside her, and that was what did her in. Her breath caught and she mewed into his face, slumping in his muscular arms as she did so.

"Faex!" she panted. "Are you sure you haven't done that before?"

Jaoel hardly heard her question, too caught up in the instant replay rolling in his mind. He'd always thought Eva was beautiful, but she was even more so when she came. And those sounds that she'd made, the way she'd leaned on him after, he'd almost been unable to control himself. He was aching so badly for her that it was all he could think about.

He messily covered her mouth with his and easily scooped her up off the ground, taking full advantage of his superior strength. She threw her arms around his neck and held on tightly as he pushed her up against the wall of the cottage's main room, ignoring the hardness of the stone pressed into her spine to focus on his, grinding her heat against his ready cock after securing her legs around his hips.

They worked together to ease her down onto him as he slowly pushed up inside her, not stopping until he was covered to the hilt.

The sensation of being confined by her warm, slick walls overwhelmed him. A feverish instinct he didn't know he had took over, urging him to drive into her repeatedly, seeking friction as she raked her delicate fingers through his thick wavy hair, encouraging him. "That's it. That's it. Jaoel!"

He'd set a pace not too fast or slow, but it didn't matter. There was no way for him to hold off long enough for her to come again, not with how good everything felt, even as it bordered pain. Not with how she writhed against him and whimpered.

"Can't take it anymore," he grunted out.

"Don't then," she gasped.

Several more deep snaps of his hips into her and his body stiffened as he filled her up with his seed. He shut his eyes as it happened, fully embracing the ecstasy and relief that paired perfectly with his release.

When he opened them again his eyes met hers, and they beamed at each other. His heart wanted to burst at the unabated joy in her expression. He knew he loved her then.

He set her down gently on her feet again and kissed her more sweetly than before, dipping two fingers into her heat as he did so and thrusting them in and out in the same manner as he had with his cock. Eva submitted, clinging to him as he wound her up again.

He didn't stop until she was crying out his name.

x

He'd been out with a bow and arrow hunting unsuccessfully for deer all morning the day his life unfathomably changed.

Jaoel arrived back home empty handed but not displeased. He and Eva still had plenty to eat from his last hunt and the garden, so some time alone to sort his thoughts on the back of a horse was reward enough.

His peace did not last for long when he discovered the cottage vacant of all life. Fear struck his soul as his mind drew the worst conclusion. That Eva had been discovered by his brethren and ripped away from him less than a full year after they first indulged in the passion that came with romantic love.

But then he remembered the spring nearby that ran tepid warm, the pool she loved to bathe in, and recalled her wishes to be in it.

But if she's there - Jaoel thought, freezing at the implication of her going there alone.

He dropped his bow at the door and raced for the cave where the warm body of water was contained. It was a little ways into it, but not so much so that darkness impended his sight - or anyone's for that matter. The sunlight still shone through.

He sucked in a deep breath of simultaneous relief and trepidation as he made out her naked form in the pool, arms bent over the edge with her forehead pressed to the backs of her splayed hands.

"Eva," he called out hesitantly.

She lifted her head to peer over at him and her shoulders relaxed at the same time as a corner of her mouth curled up. "Knew you'd remember. I wanted to wait for you, but it got to be too much. I wanted to make sure I could still walk here."

He kicked off his boots and sat beside her on the edge, letting his legs drop into the pleasantly warm liquid she was sitting in. "When did you start feeling the pains?"

"Almost immediately after you left," she informed him. "But not soon enough to flag you down."

"The whole morning?"

She nodded and he pulled his lips into a thin line, a subtle grimace. "I'm sorry, mulsa. If I had known I'd have never gone out."

"You couldn't have known," she said with a hitched breath. She tensed up and dug her nails into the gravel surrounding the natural pool. "You're here now."

Jaoel turned to place a hand on her shoulder in support as she rode out what people in later times would call a contraction.

"I should've alerted the midwife days ago when the baby dropped," he stated aloud.

"That was not my wish," she hissed.

It had been his.

When Eva had conceived his child in mid autumn the previous year, only a couple months after they began their passionate relationship, Jaoel had feared her being struck down by Heaven's army, but then she'd come up with the ridiculous idea of doing this on her own, no medical back up if something were to go wrong, as they did fairly often in her time, and then he'd feared that more.

She didn't like the local midwife though, and he had to admit he understood why. She was not very sympathetic and wasn't afraid to lecture her patients when they didn't perfectly follow the rules she had set in place, including a zero tolerance for manual labor outside the home. That included herding sheep.

The stern elderly woman would probably have an aneurysm if she knew Eva had forgone a bed for a pool of water. Water births were not typical, but a town friend had told her about the practice once when she was halfway through her pregnancy and Eva hadn't given up the dream since.

She'd been so determined to give birth in the spring that when Jaoel had brought up his concerns she'd pushed back. "Let me do it alone then!" she had shouted.

And he had gently turned her head to look him back in the eyes. "Not so long as I breathe."

The idea of being there through the entire birth was daunting, but he would not leave her without someone to comfort her and help usher their child into the world.

A child he'd once dreaded, but now nervously awaited.

It was not like he hadn't understood how he'd gotten Eva pregnant. He'd known fully well what repeated unprotected copulation with her would likely lead to, but she'd made him feel invincible for a time, and she'd wanted a family long before he entered her life. The combination of his recklessness and her care free attitude about it had made her pregnancy only a matter of time.

At the beginning he couldn't share the happiness she felt because he'd seen first hand the cards that were dealt to nephilim. He'd dealt some of the cards himself, to mostly mature ones who had actually deserved it, but still. It would be hypocritical to think his child would be above eradication; that his fellow angels would leave them alone just because he was the father.

Eva would not let him stay detached. She convinced him to voice his concerns and to forgive himself for obeying his orders. She'd convinced him that they were safe at the farm for now, and when they weren't they'd move on. That it was going to be okay.

Then she'd pressed his hand to her swollen belly as the baby kicked and he'd lost all reason once more.

He thought of that tiny foot nudging against his palm through firm skin as Eva's contractions increased in strength and closed in on each other.

She clutched at him through it all, like he was a log floating down river rapids. Her salvation.

He held onto her comfortingly, drawing small circles on her back until she pulled herself away from him, towards a rock shelf on the north side of the pool, a shallow spot.

"Baby’s coming," she panted out, sitting up against the side of the pool and already bearing down with her whole body, her eyes squeezed shut.

All the lambings in the world couldn't have prepared him for this.

He followed her, kneeling in the water before her and nodding. "I have you both."

He did his best to stay stoic and encourage her as she worked to move the baby out of her, listening to her body, pushing with the contractions. He felt utterly helpless and impressed by her strength all at once as he waited with his arms open, at the ready.

He wasn't sure exactly how long it took, but one moment his arms were empty and the next he was holding an infant in them - their daughter.

He raised her up out of the water and studied her little face in wonder as she starred back up at him intensely. He could already tell she was going to look so much like her mother, but those dark brown eyes, those were all him.

The observation made his breath catch and he found himself transfixed, locked in that moment with her. Just looking.

Then she scrunched up her face and began to wail.

Jaoel thought he'd seen everything beautiful to see in the universe, but witnessing his daughter's first breath, first cry - a life beginning, one created out of the love he and Eva shared - he'd never seen anything more beautiful outside of his father's throne room.

“It’s alright, babygirl, you’re fine,” he soothed automatically. “Wanna meet your mama?”

He glanced over to Eva and her face lit up. She gestured for him to hand over their daughter almost desperately and he did so carefully so not to drop her back into the water.

A look of awe passed over Eva’s tired face and she started sobbing, her head pressed gently against her daughter’s.

“Are you alright my love?” Jaoel asked, concerned, touching the elbow of her right arm.

She nodded vigorously. “Yes, it’s just…she’s perfect, Jaoel. And she’s ours.”

The disbelief in her shaky voice made him smile. “Yes, she is. And she's just as perfect as her mother.”

Jaoel had never felt such overwhelming joy as he did then, not since standing in front of God himself, and even then it was a different kind of thrill.

He figures years later that he should have known better than to settle into it.

Everything is fleeting.

x

Jaoel.

One word, his name, and his world greyed.

He'd heard it said behind him, but he didn't want to turn around. He wanted to keep looking forward, watching his five year old daughter innocently play in a field of dandelions, not a care in the world.

He knew that voice. It might as well have been an axe.

"Jaoel, what have you done?" the voice hissed, outrage barely contained.

He swung around then, meeting eyes with a woman nearly his height and in a dark green tunic and sandals. Her hair was a stark pale blonde and her eyes were ghostly blue. Icy, just like her attitude.

"Jophiel," Jaoel said. "What are you doing here?"

"Gathering everyone," Jophiel replied. "The fight is over for now. The demons are controlled. The humans are safe. Or so we thought."

She jerked her head in his daughter's direction.

"She's not dangerous," Jaoel told her firmly. "She's just a child."

"Of course she's dangerous!" Jophiel screeched. "I can feel her power radiating out from here. She is an abomination!"

"She is mine!" Jaoel growled, taking a step forward, chest out. Furious and terrified but refusing to show the latter. "She is no abomination. You've shed enough blood. Leave us be."

"You know they won't do that," said another quieter, subdued voice.

Under other circumstances Jaoel would've been elated to hear it, but it that moment it pained him.

"Thomas," Jaoel whispered.

He craned his neck to see him to his right, dressed in a tunic as well, his cream. He looked younger than Jaoel by six years, around twenty-six years old based on human aging, but it was an allusion. Heaven's angels didn't age. Only the fallen, and even they aged very slowly.

Thomas was as close to a brother of blood as angels could get. Jaoel had been in charge of training him right after the lower angel had been created. They'd spent hundreds of years fighting the dark side by side. They'd cared about and trusted each other more than all their other fellow angels.

Jaoel had no idea where Thomas would fall in this argument. Thomas was as loyal to Heaven as he'd been and even if he did side with him, it meant he'd be banished from Heaven too. Most likely killed, if not thrown into Hell with the rest of the fallen who would eat him alive for not having sided with them, with Lucifer, when they rebelled.

For his daughter's sake he wanted Thomas on his side, but for his brother's sake he wished he'd never shown up.

Thomas looked torn. He had never agreed with the zero tolerance rule for the nephilim either. He'd slain one, a teenage boy, under Jophiel's direct orders once and had been haunted by it for decades. The boy had shown signs of delinquency but nothing atypical of a human his age. He'd begged for his life. Jophiel had promised a tortured death if Thomas didn't do it himself. She'd cornered him.

She'd never tried it with Jaoel before because they were both archangels, but in that dandelion field she changed that. There was a reason Jophiel had brought Thomas with her. Most likely she'd had her suspicions after Jaoel stopped checking in with his siblings, giving updates.

(In hindsight, it had been a poor decision, but he'd been afraid a fellow angel would see through his lies, the stories he made up to cover that he was no longer just guarding Eva.)

Jaoel could see what Jophiel was trying to do from a mile away.

"You belong with us, Jaoel," she stated stiffly. "I am not completely heartless. Let us dispose of her. Thomas will do it, quick and painless, and then you can come home. I will forgive your transgressions, convince Michael to give you a pass."

She only didn't want to face one of Heaven's most powerful warriors, fallen or not. A lesser angel would've never gotten any ounce of mercy.

"Over my dead body," Jaoel spat out, pulling his blade from one of his coat pockets.

"This won't end well for anyone if we fight him like this," Thomas told Jophiel. "You're a better leader, but Jaoel's a better fighter and he knows all my tricks."

Jophiel huffed, clearly not pleased that he'd pointed it out but smart enough to know not to be bull headed about it. "You're right. We need back up. Come along."

She spread her stunning golden brown wings that spanned ten feet and flew away without further do.

Thomas lingered, unable to look Jaoel straight in the eye.

He sighed. "Of all of our siblings, I'd have put you on the list of least likely to be tempted by a human woman. You've put me in an awkward position, big brother."

"I'm sorry," Jaoel said honestly. "It just happened. I cannot describe how I got here. Why she's here. But look at her, Thomas. Please."

Thomas glanced up, obeying, and Jaoel shifted to see what he was seeing.

His daughter, standing still in the middle of the field with a beautiful blue butterfly clinging to her tiny index finger, her chocolate eyes bright and curious.

When he turned back to Thomas he saw a softness in them. "She is beautiful," his brother admitted. "If it were up to me she would live. You wouldn't be forced away from this place. But alas, it is not my decision. If I argued, I'd be cast out too."

The last two sentences sounded bitter, an aged rage in the words, and Jaoel knew he was thinking of the boy.

Jaoel shook his head. "I'm not asking you to rebel. I'm asking you to disappear, busy yourself. Find a wayward demon on your way to gather others for our execution. Stay out of this."

Thomas gave him a small, bittersweet smile. "Always looking out for me." His expression turned solemn. "Even when I fail you."

Jaoel's stomach dropped and he realized then that Jophiel had never mentioned killing Eva, even though the mothers of the nephilim were always executed as well.

"No..."

"Jophiel has been observing you all morning," Thomas told him. "She waited until you left and struck herself. She found me after, said there was one last evil for me to dispatch. A nephilim. She never said it was your daughter. But she did say she already killed the mother."

Jaoel backed a few steps from him. "No...no...you're lying. Jophiel's put you up to it."

"I wish it was one of her elaborate plans, that I was lying. But I'm not."

"NO!" Jaoel snarled, charging forward to grab a fist full of the fabric just under his neck. "She can't be dead!"

"Take your daughter and run, now." Thomas said, more pleading than commanding. "I'll bury her."

"No! You're lying! I'm not leaving her behind."

It couldn't be true. She was his one. His soulmate, as the humans would say. Denial was all he had to keep himself from falling apart.

Thomas sought his eyes out. "Look me in the eyes, brother, you know I'm a bad liar."

Jaoel didn't want to, but he did, and he regretted it. There was no lie in his eyes. Only painful truth.

Thomas saw the change in his expression. The anguish. "I'm so sorry." He went to cup his face but Jaoel fell to his knees.

Thomas was already gathering him up and helping him back to his feet as soon as he hit the ground. "Go. Save your daughter while you still can. She won't take long."

He might have as well shoved a blade through his heart, it would've hurt less. But Jaoel knew Thomas was right. He had to leave with his daughter now. He couldn't go back to bury Eva. He couldn't go home to say goodbye.

Tears blinded him. "Bury her by the oak tree next to the barn. She loved lying in the shade there on sunny days."

Thomas gave him a curt nod. "It is done."

Jaoel started for his daughter on trembling legs.

"Jaoel," Thomas called out after he got a few feet.

He glanced back at him. "Her name was Eva."

"And your daughter's?" Thomas inquired.

"Sarah," Jaoel answered. "It was her grandmother's name."

He didn't waste anymore time after that, racing towards Sarah without checking if Thomas was leaving. He could take care of himself. Sarah could not.

"Daddy, what's wrong?" she asked, frowning at the way he'd rushed to her and at the pain in his expression.

"Daddy can't explain now," he told her, trying not to choke up. "Dangerous people are coming here. We have to go."

Her eyes rounded with fear. "What about Mommy?"

"I sent someone to get her," Jaoel replied. It was vague enough not to be a lie.

He would tell her the full truth later, after they put distance between them and Jophiel.

"We're going to fly to escape them," he said, trying to mask his grief as much as he could. "Come quick."

Sarah lit up. She had always loved flying. Flying made everything better.

She jumped into Jaoel's waiting arms and wrapped her arms around his neck as he unfurled his wings. She stared at them in awe as she always did, then Jaoel launched off the ground.

He flew her far away, not sure where to go, only knowing that no matter where they went, they'd never be safe for long.

x

The morning light shining through the open bedroom window of the abandoned cottage Jaoel had set up as a safehouse just before her birth bathed Sarah in gold as she slumbered, a sight that soothed Jaoel's ravaged, aching heart.

Finding out Eva was dead had been painful, telling Sarah the news had destroyed him.

She'd fallen asleep from utter exhaustion after all the tears she'd shed, but despite how weary Jaoel was, he'd been unable to catch any sleep himself.

He was too worried about his siblings finding them. Was too caught up in how open ended everything felt. He'd never be able to tell Eva goodbye. Would never have any idea what her final moments were like. He could only hope Jophiel had been merciful about it; something that had never been her strong suit.

He'd spent most of the night pacing or leaning on the door frame to the bedroom, watching his daughter, the rise and fall of her chest and the sound of her heart beating the only things keeping his despair at bay.

Then a striking blue butterfly, of the same species as the one that had been on Sarah's finger in the field flew into the room on a wind and landed softly on her forehead.

Something about its choice of a resting spot made Jaoel recall how sometimes butterflies were used as messengers by those who have passed on, and his breath hitched as he realized that Eva had died before the butterfly had settled onto their daughter's finger. That blue had been her favorite color.

"Eva?" he whispered. It couldn't be, could it? Was the butterfly a message to him?

It immediately flew off, back to the forest beyond the cottage, and Jaoel knew that was the answer to his question.

It gave him some solace.

She was still around, even if he, a fallen, couldn't see her.

x

It was almost mid morning and Sarah was still sound asleep when the door to the cottage quietly creaked open. A human would've missed it, but Jaoel didn't.

He dug out his blade from his coat and crept towards the main living space, every muscle in his body tensed in preparation for a fight.

He'd expected Jophiel or one of her closest allies to be waiting for him, but he found Thomas instead, standing by the fireplace.

"Thomas, what are you doing here?" he hissed. "How'd you find me?"

"I know you better than you may think," Thomas answered, the left side of his mouth quirking up slightly. "Luckily Jophiel has not cared to."

"You were supposed stay away," Jaoel told him, a flair of anger in his chest over his brother putting himself at risk for him. "You cannot be here long or you'll be cast out too."

Thomas approached him and lifted his right hand to squeeze his shoulder as he met his eyes. "I am staying. For far too long I have heeded their every order, sacrificed my morality in the name of their laws, for a father who has not let us see his face for centuries. I'm tired of cowering, brother. I am standing my ground. Your lover has been laid to rest, the animals rehomed, and you will not protect your daughter alone, no matter where we must go."

Jaoel felt tears stinging his eyes once more, and to his surprise Thomas' eyes were shining too.

"Thank you," he said, his words nearly getting caught in his throat.

There was no use arguing with Thomas once he'd firmly drawn a stick in the sand, so he accepted his help. It felt good too, the burden on his shoulders feeling slightly less heavy with his beloved brother pledging to be there.

He yanked Thomas into a spontaneous embrace and his brother flinched, caught off guard, but soon relaxed into it and patted his back.

"Daddy, who is he?"

Jaoel backed away from Thomas to turn to Sarah, who was standing just outside the door of the bedroom, staring at the younger angel curiously.

"Sarah, this is Thomas," Jaoel replied, glancing to him before meeting her eyes. "Your uncle."

x

For years Jaoel and Thomas traveled all over the world with Sarah, fearful that if they stopped moving their brethren would catch up. It kept her safe, but also built frustration up in her as she aged. She wanted to be with other children, to learn in the same environment as they did. She got tired of being so isolated, so cooped up. As much as she loved her father and uncle, they weren't enough. Safety was not enough.

She was just a teenager being a teenager when she crept out of the cabin they were staying in while they were both sleeping, having the intention of hanging out with a few other girls in the village for several hours.

She was just a teenager, fourteen years old, when she healed a serious head injury one of the girls acquired while they were flitting around the forest like nymphs of myth in the night.

It was an unfortunate matter of circumstance that an angel that hadn't even been searching for her sensed her power when she used it and found her before Jaoel and Thomas could.

They met her friends first, bawling and clinging to each other, hardly able to spit out enough intelligible words to let them know what had happened. They'd seen things their young human minds couldn't grasp and witnessed a girl their age being slain. They'd be haunted by it for the rest of their lives.

As soon as they got the location Jaoel was racing through the thick treeline to find his daughter, legs pumping as hard as they could, faster than any human's but still not fast enough because he was already too late. He knew that, but he was compelled forward anyway.

He found her on her back, innocent brown eyes open and empty, staring blankly up at nothing. Her shirt was caked with blood that was beginning to dry. There was a stab wound to her abdomen, one clearly made by an angel's blade.

Jaoel dropped to his knees and gathered her already cool body into his arms, holding her close, his head in the crook of her neck.

"No, no, come on, come on babygirl, wake up, wake up!"

He was rocking her body, in total devastation, when Thomas caught up. He fell to the ground at the heartbreaking sight before him, weeping alongside his brother.

They did not notice the ugly grey moth that fluttered down to sit on Joel's hunched back, by his right shoulder, a symbol of what he'd become.

x

Thomas was burying Sarah just outside the cabin but Jaoel could not bare to help. Instead he was sitting in a chair in the bedroom she'd been occupying just a few hours before, flipping his blade between his calloused fingers.

He paused to point it at his heart and tried to muster up the strength it would take to shove it in, knowing there would be prolonged pain if he did it wrong. But maybe that's what he deserved, subjecting Eva and then their daughter to the wrath of his family. It had been selfish. He should have stayed a distant observer. Saved Eva and moved on.

"Jaoel."

He flinched and his eyes darted up to see his brother standing in the doorway.

"Don't do it," he pleaded. "We can heal together. We can find a new home."

"I cannot go on without her, Thomas," Jaoel murmured, struggling to breathe as he spoke. "Go."

"You would leave me to fend for myself?" his brother asked.

Jaoel wanted to punch him for it. "You're nearly as old as I am; you can take care of yourself!"

Eyes downcast, Thomas nodded. "You are right. But I wish not to. I have already buried a niece tonight; do not make me bury you too."

Bastard.

Jaoel wanted nothing more than to end the unbearable weight that had fallen over him since he'd found Sarah's body, but the hand gripping the blade loosened its hold without his consent and it tumbled to the floor.

For as much as he was in pain, he could not leave his brother to mourn alone, to live alone. Not when he'd fallen because of him.

x

Joel Miller wakes up from the dream turned nightmare and swipes at the sticky tear track on his cheek.

When will it end? He wonders silently in the dark of his second story bedroom.

He can't help but think, far from the first time, that maybe he should've used the blade after all.

xxx

Latin Translations:

Faex = shit

Mulsa = honey

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

[laurancezvahlslefteyebrow]

SHADOW KNIGHT HEADCANONS

aka things from my rewrite

idea from @xerith-42 <- <- <-

————————————————————

Appearance:

They have pointed ears. They’re not as large as an elf’s or half elf’s ears, really just the size of a human’s ear… But pointed.

They’re skin sparkles. (Edward who?) Idk why I added this I just like the idea of Laury lookin like he’s rocking body glitter 24/7 ig. It’s most noticeable in direct sunlight.

They’re eyes are reflective, like a cats, and often glow in the dark. They’re eyes also appear more… empty… than a regular person’s. Almost uncanny.

When in their full Shadow Knight form, their irises become red, and the whites of their eyes turn black. The skin around their eyes also becomes red and cracked, almost irritated looking.

They have fangs. Much like this v

They each have a scar pertaining to the way in which they died. (Assuming it wasn’t something like poison). It is usually a dark grey or black color, but not always.

When they are premature, their fingers and toes are blacken. This is called the corruption. Each SK has at least some, but the amount tells you how long they resisted gaining their immortality. The longer they go without gaining their immortality, the further up the corruption creeps, only stopping at the shoulders and hips.

They have Rune Scars and Tattoos. The tattoo is located on their palms and is the source of their SK abilities. It’s embedded with the curse of binding so it cannot be removed or carved out. The scars are on their face, three claw marks on each cheek. These are referred to as The Tears. These scars enhance their SK abilities.

While in their full SK form, their scar runes turn black and emanate pure darkness. Their fingernails also grow into claws that are extremely sharp and nearly unbreakable.

All SKs appear pale, no matter their skin tone. They have no red/pink/orange undertones bc their blood technically no longer flows.

They often appear very ridged or mannequin like. Standing either too perfectly or too hunched over. Again, uncanny.

Because of all these physical traits, Shadow Knights are very easy to spot, assuming you know what to look for. Many trying to hide or blend in, will hide their heads, faces, and hands.

THE… OTHER STUFF:

Their body temperature fluctuates quite a bit. Generally, theyre cold to the touch, because yk their dead. But when they feel strong emotions like anger or happiness their temp rises, possibly to the point where they feel feverish. The only emotions that actively make them colder are sadness and fear.

Their temp also rises when the Calling comes a knocking. Rising hotter and hotter the longer they try to ignore or fight it.

^ Inspired by a convo with @xerith-42

It’s impossible to sleep in the Nether, though the reason is unknown. Because of this, Shadow Knights don’t require sleep. They still can sleep, but it’s not a necessity. Premature Shadow Knights however, still become tired and can still feel the physical repercussions of having no sleep.

Similarly, SKs also no longer need to eat or drink. However again, prematures do. Since not much grows in the nether, they’re forced to eat Nether Wart. It’s essentially a very tough, charcoal tasting mushroom. It’s their only source of food OR water as water cannot be found anywhere else in the Nether.

While they’re in the Nether, their blood becomes cold to accommodate for the extreme heat. Because of this they need to be careful about regulating their emotions while in the nether so their blood doesn’t overheat.

Nether time is faster than Overworld time. A year in the Nether is only a few months in the Overworld, if that.

Premature SKs can be killed the same ways a human can be, due to their lack of immortality. A full SK however, is a bit more tricky. Their physical form can be killed, though it is more difficult due to a combination of things, but they respawn. If their body dies, is will *poof* disappear and reappear back in the Nether on an alter. The amount of time it takes to respawn depends on the severity of their injury. A full SK can only be permanently killed with an enchanted Netherite weapon (hehe minecraft reference). These are extremely rare and hard to come by. …Zenix has one…

When a PMSK (Premature Shadow Knight) is trained, they fight against real, full SKs. They could very well be killed during their training, call it natural selection. The PM is expected to kill the Full SKs they’re fighting against.

Soul sand houses the souls of innocent lives taken by Shadow Knights. Their souls not only add fuel to their power, but also gives strength to the Shadow Lord/Shad.

In Shad’s eyes, someone with magicks or brains is often more valuable than someone who is physically strong. Though physical strength is needed in order to be a SK, if they are not particularly clever and they have no magicks, they aren’t very useful. Often used as simple pawns or sacrifices.

The first ever Shadow Knight was some random guy named Randal. He didn’t fit any of the criteria, in fact he was just some farmer who ate a bad potato and suffered the consequences. Shad only resurrected him to experiment a bit.

A Shadow Knight’s armor isn’t actually armor. It’s more like a shell that pops out when their body recognizes it’s needed. Or at least when it thinks it does. These shells are generally identical, but they do each have some variations depending on the person and their alignment. Their weapons are an extension of this shell as well, and can be any hand held weapon. Weather is a sword, hammer, mace, or even daggers. Swords are just most people’s go-to. Along with this, they cannot drop their weapons as they are basically a part of them. The only way to rid of it is by… sucking?? it back into the shell. Think of venom. But less… slimy.

They’re impervious to fire/lava. At any stage, full or pm.

Oooookay that’s all I got

Thanks for reading this far love ya mwah mwah

[desertfangs]

Hot Pink - Day 1

🪦 Grave Decisions

Armand/Daniel - Post-Canon - 3,031 words

Daniel is off by himself dealing with a personal matter when Armand finds him to make sure he's okay (and doesn't do anything stupid).

Written for @valenfangs for the prompt "Hot Pink," this went in a very different direction than I originally planned. But that's the fun of writing to prompts for me - sometimes things go places you don't expect. I do have more traditional V-Day content coming up in the next couple of weeks.

Short Excerpt:

Daniel sat in the bar, trying to do the crossword on his iPad, except the application kept changing the boxes when he typed and he ended up putting the answers in the wrong place. The whole process was frustrating and not helping to take his mind off things. He missed newsprint and pencils. 

“Are you Daniel?” 

He looked up from his iPad. A waitress was standing over his table holding a tray with a hot pink drink on top of it. 

“I am,” Daniel said. 

The waitress beamed. “Then this is for you.” She set down a cocktail napkin and then put the drink on top of it. 

Daniel instinctively looked around the bar but he didn’t see any familiar faces. Certainly not a shock of auburn hair that belonged to the most likely culprit. He didn’t dare get his hopes up. Armand was busy at Court. And a scan of the room told him there were no immortals in the bar.

“Who is this from?” Daniel asked, annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood for these kinds of games. If someone was trying to cheer him up, they were going about it all wrong. 

The waitress shrugged, clearly miffed at his attitude. “No idea. Someone called in the order. Enjoy.” 

Daniel stared at the drink. It was the week’s drink special, advertised on the chalkboard at the front. Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, so the cocktail was hot pink in color, with a pink curly straw, and a row of bright red cherries stuck on the stick of a small pink cocktail umbrella, served in a hurricane glass. It smelled of grenadine, vodka, and sugar. Daniel could practically taste its nauseating sugary sweetness. He would have hardly touched that kind of drink when he’d been mortal— hello, hangover —but even now, the smell made him feel mildly ill. 

He did another mental sweep of the bar, but there was no sign of an immortal presence. So who’d sent over this abomination of a drink? Someone had to know where he was to call in the order.

He tapped his fingers on the table, waiting to see if the person might reveal themselves but no one did. Daniel made sure there wasn’t some kind of note on the glass or anything special about the contents of the drink. 

And then, irritation building, Daniel stood. He left the bar and scanned the street out front. He was in a suburb of San Francisco, a town that was little more than housing developments. Its small downtown area had a few restaurants and bars but everything closed by midnight. At 11 pm, the streets were quiet. 

He lit a cigarette and pulled out his phone. No messages. He did the time zone math. It was afternoon in France, so no one there was going to answer him now. 

He took a drag on his cigarette and something in his awareness prickled. The presence of another immortal.

Read the Rest on AO3

[monstrousvoice]

Sleep Easy

Fandom: Elden Ring

Relationship: Morgott X Fem!Tarnished

AN: I'm sick as a dog and plagued by horny thoughts. I do not condone doing anything like this in real life, its just a really self indulgent kink of mine to be used and taken advantage of by monster men. 

This is also an un-official sequel to this post.

Hopefully this will tide ya'll over while I work on chapter 2 of Court of the Immortals. (Next chapter will have Boc in it btw 👀🥰)

Tags: Smut, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Dubious Consent, Enthusiastic Consent, Consent is not spoken about but very much given, Somnophilia, Consensual Somnophilia, Drugged Sex, Tarnished being into that shit, Slight Yandere Morgott, just a pinch, Pining, Mutual Pining, Possessive Behavior, Breeding Kink, Pregnancy Kink, Cum Inflation, Morgott being a pervert, Female Tarnished

Read it on AO3!

It's been days since he caved and started stealing your clothing, and continued to do so, as shameful as it was…It was torturous, this hunger you started in him. He wanted to feel your velvet heat around his cock, squeezing his knot, so bad, but he didn't want to take the chance of confessing. He wasn’t brave enough to face your rejection. 

And one night, when he returns to his office, feeling worn out and frustrated over your constant teasing and his lack of courage, he spies one of his elixir potions on his office desk. It's his sleep potion, one that the castle physician makes for him due to his nightmares. 

And he has an idea.

The next evening, you're working in his study together, as usual. You've been teasing him all day with light touches to his broad frame, and whispered words that he knows have to be mocking in some way. 

"Morgott my king, would you ever want to have children? I think I'd like to, with the right person. The tiny pitter patter of little feet down the hall..." You mumbled as you pressed against his back. He could feel the soft cushion of your breasts through his robes, so tantalizing...His head filled with images of you waddling down the castle hallways with an engorged belly, your hand being pulled by a much smaller one as children surrounded you and demanded your attention.

You, sitting on his cock above him, cupping your belly and begging him to move your hips for you, please my love I need you to fuck me, please-

His quill snapped in his grip.

He saw your expression out the corner of his eye, mouth open in an adorable 'o' as you stared at the broken stationary. 

"Excuse me." He had growled, standing from his desk to grab a new quill (and get away from your sweet cloying scent-deep breaths Morgott, deep breaths-)

And you still continued, even during your shared meal.

You sat across from him, wearing a dress with a deep 'v' that showed off the supple curve of your tits and tummy, crossing an arm underneath the swell of your breasts to push them up even further for him to stare at. You're talking about the things you saw on your ride around the land today, and he still finds himself enraptured by your words.

"I'm glad to see less and less bandit camps lately. I think it's a very good step in the right direction."

Even as he listens to you talk and is distracted constantly by your dress, he's worried his nerves betray his plan. His golden eye darts down to the soup you're enjoying, one sip at a time from your perfect lips.

You don't comment on it tasting any different than usual.

He can see the sleep potion taking effect however, the way your words slow down as you hide more and more yawns from his intense gaze. At one point, you catch his eye as he watches you swallow another mouthful. You smile at him.

"Thank you for ordering my soup for me Morgott. I don't know what the chef did, but it tastes especially yummy tonight."

"...It may be a new ingredient." He offers hesitantly. 

"Maybe so...I hope to taste it again soon~" You practically purr at him. He swallows.

Do you know...? No, you couldn't. If you did you would be outraged, right? Jump from your chair to throw the steaming liquid in his face and run away from here, from his perversion. If you had any idea, you would be long gone by now.

You sip another spoonful.

It isn't long before you're saying goodnight through a yawn.

"Oh-dear, I don't know what happened. I felt so energetic earlier and now I'm-" Another stifled yawn, "Hmm, I think I'll head to bed Morgott." You stand from your seat and make your way over to him. You lean against his broad shoulder, your face getting close - so impossibly close - to his cheek.

"Goodnight my King~" You whisper, a soft pressure on his cheek following your words. It isn't until you're closing the door behind you that he realizes you kissed him.

His heart beats wildly in his chest, blood roaring through his veins. His fingers come up to caress the spot your sweet lips had been against a moment before, and he feels his soul thump in his chest. 

He thinks about his plan for tonight and feels the guilt settle at the base of spine, swirling and bubbling at his terrible sins. 

He slams a fist against the hardwood table. No, no. Guilt or not this is the only way he can truly have you. It's just for one night. Just tonight, he'll have his fill and be done with the whole situation. He can keep the sweet memory of how you feel for the rest of his life and you'll be free to go on with your life, unaware you had been tainted by him. 

You could even fall in love with some lucky fool who would never treat you as well as he would, but you'd be happy and unaware of what he stole from you. Just...one night of pleasure. 

The only thing he ever let himself want before.

He waits a half hour before he attempts anything.

In the cover of night, the servants are sleeping. Guards watch the hallways, but none so much as flinch at seeing his hulking form. They haven't been spooked by him in...years now. What a strange thought.

Your room is unguarded. Normally he would want a guard patrolling this hallway even more strictly than usual, your precious sleeping form is vulnerable to attack after all. But tonight, he has them scheduled to come later during the night, so no one may see him slip inside your dark room.

As he closes the door behind him, his sensitive ears catch the sound of your soft, gentle breathing. His nose catches something else.

Arousal.

Thick and cloying, the scent permeates your room through and through. He feels dizzy from the sudden onslaught of scent, blood rushing south to swell in his cock. It's already half hard from the smells alone, his sheathe pulling back to reveal its pink head to the cool air. He bites his bottom lip hard, grabbing himself and hissing through his fangs at how sensitive he feels. Precum smears across his palm and drips to the floor, a thick vein along the underside of his cock throbs in time with his heartbeat.

By the Greater Will, what were you doing? What would prompt you to-...to smell like this before you went to sleep?

He can't wait to think about it-his mind pushes the mystery away for another time, another place where your soft, pliant form isn't waiting to be ravished by him. He all but rips his cloak off as he climbs up your mattress, pulling himself to hover over you. 

Your face is buried in your pillow as you lay on your stomach, your plush ass facing him. Without even thinking his hands find their way there, squeezing and playing with the flesh as you sleep onwards. You're covered by a thin sheet, unusual for the colder weather you've been having lately, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it. He pulls off the sheet, and his heart stops.

You're completely naked...except for a small satin pair of panties.

His breath leaves him in a rush, a low groan escaping his chest as his eye travels along the skin of your back. His hands join in, pushing and molding the skin beneath as he marvels at how soft and squishy you feel. 

Curious, he slips his hands under you, lifting your chest up to squeeze and play with your tits. They feel just as soft as he imagined, and you don't stir from the movement. You lay prone and asleep, in a deep dream. 

Satisfied you won't be waking up anytime soon, he lays you back down.

He sits himself carefully across your legs, moving downwards to get a better look at your hips and thighs. His fingers slid under the cloth covering you from him, his gray skin looks so right pressed against your own and tangled in your panties...

He pulls them down, the soft fabric sliding over your skin with no resistance till he stops at your knees. Moving back up, he places both hands back on your ass. You're so small and delicate compared to him-his palms easily cover the expanse of your hips. 

It makes his cock throb.

He hooks his hands in between the folds of your cheeks and thighs and spreads them. The scent of your arousal hits his nose full force, and a deep, husky groan leaves him. Slick is leaking from your adorable cunt and all over your closed thighs, gooey strands webbing between lips and skin as the opening to your pussy flutters and squeezes around empty air. 

He feels hypnotized by the sight.

Swallowing the drool collecting in his mouth, the Omen leans forwards and licks. Slick cream coats his tongue immediately, warm wetness greeting him. You don't stir from your sleep, still lying against your pillow. 

Emboldened, Morgott presses his mouth firmly against your welcoming cunt, his thick tongue sliding out to rub against your folds as his lips suck along your flesh. His reward is more of your slick oozing out, your muscles fluttering against his tongue like a silent call for more. His chin is soaked in your combined juices and his drool, dripping to the sheets below you. 

His tongue moves farther down for a stronger lick when it rubs against your engorged clit. For the first time that night you react. Your hips jump as a squeak leaves you, and the Omen feels his blood turn to ice. He freezes in place as your hips drop back into his hold and a small sigh leaves you.

Carefully, he pulls himself away from the tasty treat offered to him to look you over. He leans up and close to your face, watching for any sign that the elixir has worn off and you're about to wake up.

Nothing.

You lay still and silent once more, face relaxed and calm. Breathing perhaps a bit faster than when he first started, but definitely still asleep. He breathes a sigh of relief, falling back to sit on his haunches as his shoulders droop. 

You still manage to keep him on his toes, even now.

Morgott shook himself, ruffling his fur and lashing his tail. Foolish, so foolish of him. He's still so nervous about this because he knows how wrong it is.

A glance down at your glistening cunt and he knows that he can't back out now. He...he needs to finish this. To feel that sweet release of cumming deep in your womb, of your gummy walls squeezing him tight as he fucks you...

He moves back over your thighs, settling down comfortably on the soft fat of your legs. His tail wavers back and forth in the air behind him, muscles tense as he continues. 

His cock is fully revealed now, pink and gray as it slips out of his sheathe with a slick sound of precum. He gives a sigh of relief as his knot finally pops free, the tension in his abdomen finally relieved. Strings of precum dribble over your skin, pooling in your folds and smearing everywhere his wandering hands massage.  

His thumbs hook once more against the warm folds of your cunt, spreading them open to reveal your leaking hole. The muscles still flutter with arousal from his touch, looking so damn empty and fuckable...

You'll be filled soon though. He'll make sure of it.

With firm hands he grabs your hips, making sure no sudden movements from you mess this up. He lowers his throbbing cock towards you, rubbing against the sweet heat of your pussy. He throws his head back and pants into the night air, eye closing in bliss at the feeling. 

So warm and soft...such a perfect little fuck hole for his cum, to breed full of his seed and start a line of heirs to the Lyndell throne...

Taking a steadying breath, the King looks down, entranced by the sight of his cock pressing against your opening. He's wanted to do this for so long now...To see his fat cock spread you wide and ruin your sweet cunt for any other man. You won't ever know he did this and yet, the next time you lay with any man, you'll feel the difference, feel how their cock doesn't stretch nearly enough, doesn't go deep enough to press against your womb the way his would.

You'd play with yourself and desperately wish to feel so full again...you'll think of him and cum on strangers' cocks all the while calling his name...

He uses a thumb to press his head against your tight hole, hissing at the squeeze. It seems like it's about to go in when-

It's pushed back out, sliding towards the front of your cunt and rubbing the spines lining his dick against your clit. He pulls back and tries again, and again, and again, each time being pushed back to rub against your sweet folds instead of inside.

The Omen hisses low and quiet, frustration making him impatient.

"Damn thee, little tarnished...of course such an adorable cunt would be so difficult to fuck-" Morgott adjusts himself on his knees, hands gripping your thighs and pulling them further apart. He grunts and pushes the head of his cock against your still too tight opening until finally, with a satisfying 'squish’, the fat head of his cock pushes through and slides inside like your cunt was made for him.

He moans low in his throat as his hips keep moving forward, his cock going deeper, deeper, deeper-

He catches himself from falling on top of you with a shaking hand landing on the pillow next to your face. He hovers above you, panting and shaking, eye closed as he experiences bliss for the first time. Under him, your sleeping form is trembling, your brow furrowing and your mouth open in a silent gasp as small pants leave you. Your hips give a weak buck against his when he finally bottoms out, cock head bumping against the opening of your womb. His ears strain to catch the sound of words leaving you in your sleep.

"M...mor-mmm..." You sigh, nuzzling further into your pillow.

The King sighs as well, dropping his forehead along the curve of your shoulder, pressing soft kisses to the skin under him. You're so beautiful...So beautiful and precious, so sexy and sweet and all his...all his...his...

He pulls his hips back, relishing the tight suction of your cunt refusing to let him leave, to keep him inside you, with you, and thrusts back in hard. The 'smack' of skin against furred skin echoes in your bedchamber followed by the harsh panting and bitten back moans of a desperate King trying his best to breed his chosen mate.

He wants it, wants it all. His left hand moves to grasp your limp one, fingers interlocking as he imagines a ring on your finger, one that's as bright and beautiful as you are. Doing this over and over until your womb is filled with his cum, swollen and heavy till you cry and beg for mercy from him, that you couldn't possibly take one more load in your full tummy. Laying together as his hands rub against the small bump you made together, daydreaming names for your future children as you drift off to sleep.

The fantasy he had this afternoon...of your belly big and round with his child, body changed from having multiple children. Your breasts, big and leaking milk, your body covered in sweet stretch marks for him to trace and kiss as he thanks you for bringing him the gift of life, of family. Your thighs, thick and warm against his ears as he eats your sensitive cunt out for hours at a time to prove his devotion to you. 

To worship you like the goddess you are to him...

With a full body shudder he cums, hard, inside your waiting cunt. Fast, hard thrusts over and over as he growls through his teeth, biting his bottom lip so hard it splits and bleeds. 

A stray tear falls down the Omen's cheek as he experiences mind blowing ecstasy and heartbreaking disappointment.

His breathing is harsh and fast as he comes down from his high. His eye finally opens to look at the work he's done, the mess he's made of you. 

He's not disappointed. 

White sticky cum leaks from your abused cunt, a noticeable bump in your opening from his swollen knot stuffing you full. He stares, mesmerized, and watches his cum slowly leak out more as his knot deflates, a small pool of viscous fluid mixing on the bedsheets under you.

Within seconds he starts thrusting again, visions of your womb stretched full of his cum filling his mind. He won't stop till his instinct to breed stops clawing at him.

When dawn breaks, he's no longer in your room. You wake up to the sound of songbirds outside your window, smiling to yourself after such a good sleep.

You are not at all surprised when the slightest movement has you gasping in ecstasy, your cunt spasming as thick globs of cum seep out from your well fucked hole. Your tummy feels bloated and full, and when you turn over and lay a hand over it, you smile at the feel of a noticeable bump under your palm.

Your fingers move down to rub your aching cunt, your clit making you jump and moan from how sensitive it feels. Just a few quick rubs and your cumming hard against your fingers, moaning for your King, lamenting that he's not here now to fuck you again.

A servant knocks on the door.

"Lord Tarnished, are you awake? Shall I fetch you some breakfast?" You think for a moment, a smile coming to your face.

"Not now thank you, but please, do send the King here as soon as possible would you? Tell him it's urgent." You hear footsteps fade away fast, the servant no doubt nearly running to pass on your message.

When Morgott knocks upon your door and steps in, he finds you still laying on your soiled sheets, legs open wide to show off his dirty work.

Your fingers are moving furiously within your stretched hole, your head thrown back as you cum again under his gaze. The King can only stand there, mouth agape as you turn to look at him through hooded eyes.

"Now that your confidence has been built up, this time my love, can I please be awake the next time you ravish me? I promise it's more fun~"

[sapient-locations-bracket]

Round 2 Poll #4

Descriptions:

Any Minecraft Server (Minecraft): If we take the end poem as literal (I know it's not, but it would be funny in context to the tournament. Or fun for AU potential)  "And the universe said you are not separate from every other thing And the universe said you are the universe tasting itself, talking to itself, reading its own code" then you could possibly argue that when the player character creates a world they are so entwined with it that they *become* it even if only through their acts of creation. They are creation itself, endlessly moving forward and placing pieces of themself into existence.

Aurora (she/her, The Mechanisms): She used to be a moon but then an immortal vampire named Carmilla killed her mother and then became her adopted mother. Then she got kidnapped and turned into a spaceship by Sprussia (Space Russia) then Carmilla's immortal cannibalistic but not vampire son stole her (back?) and Carmilla, Jonny (the son), and Nastya (freshly immortal. Used to be Anastasia) started living on her. Nastya, due to her world implanting people with essentially technological communication devices could talk to Aurora and they were lesbians together. Then Nastya went Out permanently because the Aurora got ship of Theseus'ed after so long and Nastya thought of Aurora now as a completely different person from Aurora then, who to Nastya was functionally dead. The Aurora then housed and transported the rest of the Mechanisms until their eventual deaths.

[sssammich]

💛 reunion kiss v/a/l :D

💛 reunion kiss

alrighty you asked for it. this is just me and my shenanigans about the immortal throuple that is veronica, andrea, and lena.

ask meme

---

veronica's the first one to show up. she groans when she pulls herself up into a sitting position, her muscles still aching as they heal.

she glances around her and is happy to find that she's made her way back to one of their safehouses. how that came to be is anybody's guess, but she's just glad that it's one she's been to recently. belize.

flashes of her memory begin to unravel, bits and pieces here and there until a group have their guns pointed at her. no, at them. they'd been made somehow. they weren't even on assignment when it happened. just a desire to eliminate.

that's the price of business, she knows, but she sure fucking hates paying it.

taking a deep breath, she cards her hand through her hair before pushing herself to her feet. she's careful when she makes her way to the window, watching as the morning sun streams down the coast.

she hopes they make it here, but who knows when it comes to those two.

well, she's got nothing but time, so she waits.

-

it takes eleven days for the next person to show up.

she hears the crunch of the gravel out front before the telltale creaking of the wooden gate. she puts a kettle on.

she walks to the front door and opens it. she smirks when she sees who's standing there with a gray zip-up hoodie tied around her waist and a plain backpack hoisted over one shoulder. her dark tresses is pulled in a messy bun, the humidity causing flyaways to form small ringlets around her face. lena.

"where'd you land?"

lena takes the three steps up to the top of the front porch and stands right in front of her. "appalachian mountains in maine."

she makes a face as she does the calculations of travel and distance. "so andy's taking her sweet time," she says rather than asks.

lena scoffs, but it's affectionate. "you know her track record better than me."

she's about to respond when the kettle whistles behind them. she ignores it for now, instead brings her hand up to the porcelain skin kissed pink by the hot equatorial sun.

"i knew you'd make it first." then she leans forward and smiles just as lena accepts her greeting kiss, laughing all the while. she can taste faint traces of coffee, lena's natural sweetness, and salt.

-

the two of them are lounging in the sand in front of a small fire pit when they see the silhouette of someone approaching. lena naturally draws herself up in a sitting position, but stays resting on her elbows.

the figure walks closer until her face is illuminated by the warm golden hues of the fire.

"took you long enough," she comments, resting her head on lena's arm.

"shut up," andrea huffs before unceremoniously plopping down on her other side.

"where did you land?" lena asks.

"hokkaido."

veronica laughs. "how'd you manage that? i said belize city that morning."

andrea waves her off dismissively but otherwise drops her head to kiss her. her taste is different. the mint of her gum she's still chewing is most prevalent, but her natural sweetness and the salt on her a welcomed and sorely missed one after eighty days of waiting.

"i missed you too, asshole."

lena laughs, and veronica can see from the corner of her eye how she's shaking her head.

she leans and surprises andrea with another peck on the lips.

then, lena and andrea are leaning towards each other above her, the shadows of their faces moving about from the fire dancing in front of them. she brings herself up and kisses lena, too, just for good measure. just because she can.

"alright," she starts. "we're all here. do you have it?"

she turns to andrea who rolls her eyes. "of course i have it."

lena and veronica watch as andrea unearths something from her pocket. it's a blank map. she bites the tip of her middle finger until she tastes copper, red droplets appearing. she smears it on the center of the map while the other two watch patiently.

as soon as her blood touches the map, the empty page is awash with ink, and a clearer picture of their next assignment: national city.

[self-winding]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dymJ-ViBRhQ

I watched this review of The Batman (2022) a while ago and keep mentally coming back to it.  I generally think his comments about The Batman movie itself and how it differs from previous incarnations of Batman are good and interesting.  I personally love this movie and its take on a Batman who is kinda unhinged and fucked up but also framed as unhinged and fucked up, and who has to wrestle with the uncomfortable, looming feeling that he’s not all that different with the guy he’s trying to hunt down.

Most of the analysis is a solid, if somewhat basic deconstruction of vigilante, beat-em-up power fantasies in which the hero breaks free of society’s rules and stops the bad guys by taking things into their own hands.  And The Batman does better than most superhero movies at being self-aware about the realistic drawbacks and ethical perils of vigilantism.

However, the final part of the video veers into some weird territory where the creator starts talking about a comic called The Immortal Hulk, which I haven’t read but which, just based on the excerpts, looks pretty bad.  The way it’s described, it’s like...Marxist Hulk beating the shit out of various people, including these weird entities that are supposed to symbolize liberalism and capitalism, and that premise plays out every bit as cheesy and preachy as you’d imagine.  It’s a comic that presents a very black-and-white view of morality, with the solution to society’s problems being to ignore the restrictions society has placed on you and just kill the bad guys.

You’d think, based on the reviewer’s low opinion of vigilante power-fulfillment fantasies, he would also be critiquing this comic as another one-dimensional, adolescent, macho power fantasy, but no.  He thinks it’s great and he holds it up as a contrast to adolescent, macho power fantasies.  This, he says, is a comic that is Doing It Right.  There’s a point where he says in this giddy fanboy voice, “The Hulk literally smashes capitalism!”

And I’ve seen this kind of thing before.  People who critique toxic masculinity, vigilante fantasies etc. will quickly turn around and sing the praises of all those things when that violence is aimed at a target that they consider legitimately bad.

It’s not so much that they don’t like adolescent power fantasies.  They just want more adolescent power fantasies that cater to their ideological tastes.  Instead of one-dimensional cowboy narratives about punching criminals, they want more one-dimensional cowboy narratives about punching cops.

That’s all.

[k1p4isbae]

i usually post on ao3 but i feel like this is more tumblr niche

V——V V——V V——V V——V V——V V——V V——V

dating is supposed to relax you; your partner is supposed to be a safe haven. don’t be confused, there’s nothing about alice that makes you uneasy, but her very existence warps your view of reality. vampires were myths, stories told by the campfire at a halloween event that would only scare the youngest of children. there was one aspect about her that you struggled with the most. it wasn’t the need for blood, or even the smell or faint metallic taste of animal blood on her lips.

it was her immortality, or more so your lack of it. you’ve always struggled to wrap your mind around the idea of the afterlife, but what makes you sicker is the fact that you will grow older, aging, while your soulmate remains 19 infinitely.

—-------–—

so one night when your kisses against her lips become more urgent, desperate, your girlfriend is startled. alice pulls away, cradling your face in her hands.

“sweetness, what is it?” her golden eyes search yours cheerfully. you cling onto alice as if she is fixing to leave, her hands in your hair. “y/n…” she coos to you. you wonder if her voice sounded exactly like this in 1920. that’s a year you learned about in your ap united states history class, but that was her reality.

you press your lips against her neck, kissing her pulse point gently. she sighs, the tension of concern unraveling from her frame.

“i want you to turn me. into a vampire.” you plead into her neck. she hums softly before the words seem to register, her hands halting in your hair. you pull away to face your lifeline.

“alice, please. i’ve given it a lot of consideration.” you nod urgently, your fingers toying with your bottom lip in anticipation.

“why now? you aren’t in danger, are you?” alice combs through your hair, her expression deepening.

“i’ve always been in danger…of death. it’s like that’s all humans are made for, to die. i don’t want to leave you here.” your hand runs up and down her arm.

alice’s gaze softens before she reassuringly retorts, “isn’t that…the fun of it? the idea that time is limited and precious. you are promised death in living, yes, but that doesn’t have to be…scary.”

“but it is! why does no one know what it’s like after death? you’re telling me no one has died and came back to life?? why haven’t they shared what it’s like?” your fears keep flowing out of you. these are topics you tend to keep to yourself, because everyone around you seems to have a religious answer that can’t seem to solace you. the only option that you yearn for is eternity with alice, here, now.

your girlfriend presses her lips together, her gaze faltering as she struggles to answer. “it sounds to me like you’re trying to escape fate. i don’t think you’re taking into account the guilt that comes with being a creature like me, y/n. you’re not…escaping death by becoming a vampire, we can die as easily as humans, it just takes more effort.” she doesn’t seem pleased by what she’s saying. she doesn’t like scolding you.

your hand tightens around alice’s arm, her skin cold underneath your touch. she’s distant to the idea, so it seems, and it makes you even more desperate. your vocal chords begin to betray you with their cracks. “alice, please, just bite me. i don’t want to be older than you…i don’t want to be anywhere but by your side…anything but yours.”

her eyes darken. here you are, asking her to set your very soul on fire for the sake of escaping another eternity. she doesn’t like saying no to you; she likes to keep her self control. “y/n, stop it.” she inhales, as if she needs the breath.

“isn’t it beautiful that i will know you for the entirety of your life?”

“i won’t! and i never had the chance, alice. you’re not even giving me the chance of ensuring that i’ll know you for the rest of your eternity!” your eyes are reddening, specifically your sclera. if your irises could redden, like hers, they’d be burgundy with hunger. you’re starved of her venom, of her bite. you can’t lie still anymore; you’re antsy. you rise from her embrace, sitting up on your bed, fingers incessantly picking at your bottom lip.

your girlfriend follows suit, sitting and facing you. silence overcomes the both of you for a beat.

“do you believe that deities let people into paradise because they lived their lives in fear of damnation?” she asks the question for both of you to contemplate. when you look at her, bewildered, she offers her answer. “i think all-knowing deities know the difference between well-intended people and people searching for their own safety. people who are kind over people who are searching for their own gain.” she places her hands on your thighs, her gaze determined to reassure you, her smile genuine, as sweet as her. “and you, y/n, are kind, well-intended, and compassionate. if it’s hell, or eternal damnation you’re fearing…i think you shouldn’t have to.”

the implication of religion in this conversation makes you succumb to your tears, streaming down your face persistently. alice frowns deeply, scooping you into her lap and wrapping you in her arms. her embrace is always solacing, but this time, the marble that is her body is a perfect mould against yours. you burrow into her, whining. this could be eternity if she granted it.

she is your god as of right now, and doesn’t understand that she is damning you.

what you don’t understand is that you are damning yourself. diverting yourself from your natural course, asking her to put you through hell just to seemingly escape it.

the petite girl rocks you back and forth, each movement of her cold hands solidifying you into reality.

“if it didn’t hurt…i’d give you all that you wanted.” she whispers to you. “i’ve thought about turning you, about tasting your blood and feeling your pulse point thrum against my lips. the problem is…i’ve been a vegetarian for so long. tasting human blood…especially one that…calls out to me, like yours, is intoxicating. i’m scared i’d…drain you.”

you pull away to comfort your girlfriend, your hands holding her face as you shake your head. “you wouldn’t; you’d never hurt me.” you kiss her softly, the taste of your own tears prominent against her lips.

“it’s not just that, y/n. i don’t want to hear or see you in pain. i wish…i wasn’t so absent when i was turned so i could stress more how painful turning is. the burn is so intense, people would beg me to just..kill them. i don’t want to hear you ever lose your will to live, because you’re my life.” it’s rare for your girlfriend to be anything less than frivolous, humorous. you can tell the intensity of this conversation is heightened for the both of you.

“you are my vitals, don’t you get it? you could give me eternal life, with you!! but you’re preventing me from it because you’re scared i can’t handle the pain.” you frown excessively, your breathing becoming shorter out of sheer desperation.

“stop, slow down, sweetness. breathe.” she imitates a deep inhale and exhale which only aids the efforts of your tears.

“oh right, because you don’t.” you return, frustrated. your voice breaks once more. “do you understand how much of my anxiety would be alleviated? i…i constantly ask you to listen to my heartbeat to see if it’s racing…and my breathing is constantly shallow. you don’t have to worry about any of that. i wouldn’t have to worry about any of that, as a vampire!”

her hands work to wipe your tears, her countenance deeply pained. “anxiety doesn’t disappear once you’re amongst the living dead. i worry about you constantly.”

“yeah, but it doesn’t manifest in your body.” inhaling sharply, you bury your face in the crook of your girlfriend’s neck. one of her hands cradles the back of your head, while the other traces patterns against your back to distract the both of you.

��y/n…” she sighs. she’s torn; you’re defeated. “edward believes we are damned. he believes that if we were to be dismembered and burned, we wouldn’t get to go to nirvana, or heaven, or the good place. do you really want to risk that?”

you nod against her neck, your voice muffled. “heaven is right here. the feel of being in your arms and company.” you press wet kisses against her neck and shoulder, your fortress shivering beneath you.

“i just…” the girl whines softly, shaking her head as she watches you tend to her shoulder, placing her hand against your chin to redirect your attention. “you shouldn’t want this out of fear, because i will always remain in your corner. i am sure of the fact that i can be a constant for you, and that will not be taken away from you, no matter what curveball life throws at you.” her eyes are golden once again. you’ve missed your chance; you aren’t getting turned tonight. you sigh, and she mirrors you.

“you really shouldn’t be worried about growing old…because it’s a privilege. and i will be so privileged to watch you grow further into your features.” her eyes crease as she smiles, the only wrinkles she will ever sport. “there’s so much to experience that comes with humanity. you get to savor the taste of thai tea, of ice cold water on a hot day, or cookies that are burnt but baked by the one you love. you get reminded each time that you are alive and functioning when you are anxious, when you feel that thrum in your chest! you can enjoy the embrace of the sun in the company of others, and see the product of how the sun embraced you as your melanin darkens. you…and i know you don’t want to right now, but you get to discover your body has the capacity to grow another, and you can hug your child knowing your life really is eternal because you have a legacy following you. there is so much, y/n, so much more to human life than the fear of what comes afterwards.”

perspective changes reality. you know this, you just can’t bring yourself to believe it. life is so fickle and impermanent; all you’ve ever wanted was control. now that it’s almost in your grasp, the one that you love is dangling it over you.

“that’s not what i want, alice. i want you. i want the noise to stop. i want to be able to wake up in the morning without feeling hunted; i want to know for certain that…i am not some sort of moral failure.” you hold yourself in your arms, much to alice’s concern. her head shakes at your words, her hands moving your arms slowly and place your hands on her sides. she kisses your face sporadically, with no shape or form, similar to the spread of stars in the sky.

“no.” she whispers against your skin. “are you afraid you’ll be turned away from a pleasant afterlife because of…this? because of your affinity for me?” her hands hold your face as you nod against them, her lips immediately returning to your face once more.

“no. no, no, no.” her words mould into your skin, your self esteem quite malleable. she pulls away to gaze at you. “i’ve read my fair share of religious texts, and most deities uphold the fact that they don’t make mistakes, certainly not regarding the nature of someone's love. gayness…is mirrorred in nature, in animals. it’s not something to be ashamed of, and it’s not a dealbreaker for eternity, either. you’re not a failure for being yourself. a lot of deities talk about love that expounds…everything. and that’s even if you feel encouraged by religious beliefs. religion, at its basis, is an attempt at comfort. whether you follow one or not…you don’t remember what it was like before you were alive, so why does it have to be negative to return to that…nothingness?”

“i just…don’t want to die.” you shake your head vehemently, your voice weakening. “i don’t want to die.” you retreat into your hands, crying once more into them. alice’s arms tighten around you.

“i know, sweet girl. i know.” your sobs break her. she wishes she had all the answers; she wishes she knew for herself. she remembers vaguely grappling with the same thoughts as she stared at the ceiling in the asylum. she knows she can ease your pain; and she wants to. she wants to so dearly. “can you promise me something?”

you lower your hands, inhaling sharply as you gaze at your girlfriend. “what is it?”

“promise me you won’t regret anything.” her thumbs work earnestly to wipe your tears.

“i regret everything except for you.” you retort, alice’s lips pressing together. she takes an audible breath, her line of sight falling. she dissociates, you can tell she’s seeing a vision. your hand caresses her arm, trying not to distract her while trying to ground her simultaneously.

she peers before fixating her gaze on you. “i understand you.” she nods. “...i’m willing to turn you, if you promise me you won’t regret anything.”

you smile impishly, this is the most relieved that you’ve gotten your way in your entire life. You know what just happened; she had a vision in which you were a vampire. you knew you could handle it. your tears still stream, but your voice contrasts the state of your countenance.

“alice, i regret everything except you.” you repeat. “you are my beating heart; my breath. i would regret nothing in turning into a vampire. there’s nothing regrettable about forever with you.”

your sentiment and tears seemed to finally coax the girl, her impish smile returning to her face briefly. “you have to be comfortable.” kissing the remaining tears away, alice lies you down. her lips find yours, her hands on your cheeks as she sighs against you. she kisses you softly and lightly, almost as if she’s trying to lull you instead of working you up. one of her cold holds lower to your neck, caressing it gently.

the contact of her skin against yours is sobering. this is your future, a future of coldness; of distinction. but there’s so much warmth in your connection with alice, warmth you’re not willing to give up. not for anything, especially for the uncertainty of the human experience.

you can feel her self control wearing thin, her kisses more heavy, and deep. her lips lower, along with her hands. they roam your sides, while her lips tend to your neck. her lips firmly press against your skin, repeatedly kissing you firmly against your pulse point. her lips are so soft and perhaps one of the only warm features on her body, thanks to your doing. you can feel your breathing fall out of pattern, alice’s name escaping from your lips in a whine.

“it’s not close enough…it’ll take longer.” she whines, pulling away from you with the most reluctance. her irises are darker, the color almost synonymous with the hue of her pupil.

“take off your top.” she whispers the command against your lips, kissing you gently. you comply, alice helping you raise your tank top over your head.

that impish grin of hers returns once your bare chest is exposed to your girlfriend. her hands caress you like a doll, careful to keep you intact, still conscious of how fragile you are as a human.

her hands leave goosebumps in their wake, lips contrasting as she presses warm, wet kisses against your collarbone. your hands hold her head as she lowers, her attack now moving to your chest, tongue lapping at one of your nipples while her hand tweaks the other. your back arches, torso pressing into her and the taste of you becoming more full against her tongue.

she turns you on so effortlessly, your mind is hazy, scattered. your hand grabs her free hand for support, allowing her to intertwine her fingers with yours and press your hand deep into your mattress.

her efforts become rough, uncharacteristic of alice in bed. you understand that she’s ready to feed; you weren’t expecting her to feed from your chest, however.

your last word is her name, and the last words spoken to you as a human are, “i love you, and i’m here for you.” spoken by alice in an unprecedented husky voice. she twitches against you as she sinks her teeth into your chest, the sound of your blood being drained ringing in your ears. you swear the sounds of alice’s moans and grunts would heal you if they could break through the heat coursing through your body.

you wanted to escape the lake of fire, but your body is burning like you committed an unforgivable sin. you can’t even hear the grunted pleas you’re making; the sound of ringing is constant within your ears. when will it end? you’re sorry. you’re so sorry. you’re sorry for being gay, you’re sorry for not knowing which religion is right. you’re sorry for arguing with your parents, for getting mad at your friend over gas money. you’re sorry for all the time you wasted. you can’t see, wishing to lose your sense of feeling as alice’s noises become more and more distant and manipulated. you’re so sorry.

—-------–—

your eyes flutter open, the warm wind howling and spreading the flowers and weeds about. the sky is gray, stormy, but you’re aware it holds no threat to you. the weather isn’t humid, dry, too warm or cold; it’s optimal. the grass you lie between isn’t itchy, either. it’s engulfing.

you stand in the valley of the meadow, comfortable in your solitude. a tree sways in the distance. the wind combs through your hair, blowing along the side of your face tenderly.

your ears perk at the sound of windchimes. they’re playing a tune recognizable to you, yet you can’t entirely place it yet. you must get closer.

you walk in the direction of the noise, the sway of the ground beneath your feet…energizing you. you jog…then you start to run, laughing to yourself effortlessly. you don’t have to stop to catch your breath. you are boundless. you are energy.

the melody of the wind chime grows louder, swelling within your ears. you smile, holding yourself, full of warmth and love.

before you was love, and love surrounds you. you hum along to the tilt and tap of the chimes, the song becoming ingrained in your mind, your tastebuds, your core.

is this…the afterlife?

—-------–—

you awaken once more, in a more familiar environment: your apartment room. your stomach feels like an empty pit, your vision blurred and almost tunnel-like. you don’t feel real…you search your chest for a heartbeat, startled by the lack of. you hear a song you recognize playing softly on the record player.

“y/n?” alice’s eyes widen as she sits up promptly. her eyes roam your enhanced appearance, smiling to herself like a proud sculptor. “what are you feeling?”

your head cocks swiftly in her direction. her hand combs through your hair, making you recall the gentle breeze on your skin.

“what…is that smell? god, it’s pungent.” you groan, holding your head in your hands.

“that’s animal blood. i stocked up for you in the fridge…you were in and out during the transformation for 2 days.” she removes your hands gently from your head, placing them in your lap. “do you…remember what you were saying?”

you frown. “saying when…?”

“when…the burn became unbearable, you were…apologizing. apologizing for…nearly everything about you.” she brings one of your hands up to her mouth, pressing a kiss against your palm.

“i’m sorry…that must’ve been a big turn off.” you’re a bit detached from what happened after she bit you, bits and pieces of your memories still trying to resurface in your mind.

“y/n.” alice kisses your fingers individually. “i’m serious! you don’t…have to feel that shame anymore. this is it. us, for eternity.” she smiles warmly.

even though it’s feigned, your exhale of content couldn’t have felt more authentic to you.

that song, you finally realize, is (forever?????????) by glass beach.

this is forever, and this is okay.