#why? what’s there to like? what’s there to love? what’s there to love above all those other amazing lovely wonderful writers?
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theostrophywife · 2 days ago
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Overstimulation w Theo or Mattheo soon pls??
— play with fire.
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NAVIGATION // inbox. tags. writing. library.
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pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.
song inspiration: play with fire by sam tinnesz.
author’s note: happy new year my darlings! please accept my little gift to you in the form of jealous! mattheo.
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anger.
it was such a volatile thing — even the smallest spark could light a fire. too little and it barely kept you warm. too big and it consumed everything it touched. the secret, as it was for all things, was about finding balance.
you thought you were doing a rather fine job of teetering that fine line as mattheo stalked you from across the room. there was something sickeningly sweet about watching the flames burn in your enemy's eyes, the hatred and loathing reserved only for you simmering in his gaze as you perched yourself on his best mate's lap.
"you're playing with fire, y/n." theo stated with an amused smirk.
"maybe," you agreed, purposely ignoring mattheo's pointed glare. there was anger burning within him, that much was clear, but underneath all that hatred was something darker, something more dangerous. desire. "but i'm a gryffindor. I can handle a little heat."
you had no idea how much you'd come to regret that later.
"how many times do I have to teach you this lesson, hm?" mattheo growled as he backed you against the wall. his fist wrapped around your throat, squeezing the breath out of your lungs while you looked up at him.
"as many times as it takes for it to stick," you responded with a cheeky smirk.
mattheo's gaze darkened. "you'll fucking regret that, princess."
without warning, mattheo picked you up and deposited you on the bed. you blinked, tracking his movements in the dark as he shed his clothes. "this is theo's bed," you noted.
"isn't this where you hoped you'd end up tonight after crawling into my best mate's lap like the little slut that you are?" mattheo spat as he hovered at the edge of the bed, his fingers curling around your ankles before he yanked you towards him.
"it was just a bit of fun," you said sweetly. "don't tell me you're jealous, riddle."
"me? jealous of nott?" mattheo sneered. "don't make me fucking laugh, y/n."
"why wouldn't you be?" you mused, cocking your head at the furious man above you. "i've heard the rumors, you know. the girls in this school are terrible gossips and word in the castle is that theo has a big dick. I wouldn't mind taking him for a ride —"
you gagged as mattheo shoved his fingers in your mouth, effectively shutting you up. "the only one you'll be riding tonight is me." tears welled up in your eyes, but you couldn't deny the heat zipping through your veins like molten gold. you loved it when mattheo was like this — possessive and territorial and utterly unhinged. "now take your fucking clothes off and sit on my cock like the good little slut that I know you are."
twenty minutes later, you were on the verge of tears as you bounced on mattheo's lap, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as he fucked up into you. his fingers left bruises on your hips from how rough and brutal the angry sex was, but still you savored every second of it.
"that's right," mattheo said meanly as he squeezed your tits. "you're all bark and no bite, hm? crying on my cock while I split you apart. it's fucking pathetic, princess."
your pussy squeezed at the demeaning words, the head rush making you feel dizzy as your release came closer and closer. "I can feel you squeezing me. this is what you wanted all along, isn't it? you play your little games to make me angry so that you'll end up screaming underneath me."
"n—no—"
"don't lie to me, princess. you love it when I fuck you like I hate you." you moaned as mattheo thrusted upwards, making you see stars. "you're such a fucking brat, but don't worry. i'll fuck that attitude right out of you."
you keened as his long, slender finger circled your puffy clit, urging you towards the edge of the cliff of your release. a cry bubbled up in your throat as mattheo made you cum, his groans and curses sounding garbled as your eyes rolled and your toes curled.
before you could come down from the high, mattheo flipped you onto your back and draped your legs over his shoulders. your vision was spotty, static making your brain fuzzy as he slid inside of you again, thrusting in and out of your sensitive walls. mattheo grabbed your chin and forced you to look down, directing your attention to where your bodies met. his hard cock slid all the way out, coated with your release.
"see that? you talk up such a big game, but at the end of the night this is what it all comes down to." mattheo said, teasing his tip in and out of your sensitive pussy. "watch, princess. watch this greedy pussy take my cock."
"mattheo," you whined, pushing his hips back. "i'm so sensitive, please..."
"too fucking bad," he responded as he pinned your wrists above your head. "you should've thought of that before making me fucking angry."
all thoughts were wiped clean from your mind as mattheo set a punishing pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the dungeons as you moaned and screamed his name. as much as you hated him, you couldn't deny the fact that he knew your body better than you knew it yourself, because it was only a matter of minutes before you were cumming again, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation.
mattheo yanked your legs apart and licked your pussy, slurping and gulping down your juices while you thrashed underneath him. when you tried to squirm away from him, he held your hips down and circled your clit with his tongue, making out with your pussy desperately like he wanted to devour you whole. you keened, half delirious from the pleasure of it all.
"s'too much I need a break — please, I need —"
mattheo chuckled darkly, your cum dripping down his handsome face. he curled his delicious fingers inside of you, touching that spongy spot that seized your body from head to toe.
"aw, baby, I don't give a fuck what you need. you'll take what I give you. over and over again. until you get it through that pretty head of yours who you really belong to."
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iichfilwypj · 2 days ago
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lover | percy jackson
ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: percy is completely whipped here! maybe he's not very accurate or himself but im a slut for romantic shit yk ღ wc: 1.658 sorry loves dreamy girls masterlist!
After years, New Year's Eve was finally different.
She'd expected the usual—warmth at camp, chatting with the campers—but Percy invited her to spend the week with his family instead.
And Sally’s letter and Estelle’s drawing made it impossible to refuse.
Percy had planned every detail perfectly. His mom made her favorite dish, Estelle eagerly talked about seeing “The Sleeping Princess” again, and Percy patiently explained the day’s events to his family. 
Because, of course, he had something else up his sleeve.
One last surprise.
Just before midnight, Percy sat beside her as Estelle slept in her lap. The adult's conversation around them faded, and she absentmindedly stroked the little girl’s back to keep herself awake.
When she felt Percy nearby, she looked up to find him brushing a strand of hair from her face. A warm smile appeared as their eyes met.
“She’s so lovely,” she murmured.
“Mm-hmm,” Percy replied, leaning against her. “Does she look like me?”
“Just a bit more adorable.” They shared a quiet laugh.
Then Percy, his voice trembling slightly, said, “Hey, dreamy. Wanna get out of here?” His eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and nerves.
She chuckled, unsure if he was serious. It reminded her of a movie they had watched together, where the guy said the same line to  take the girl out of the party and lead her to something more fun.
But before she could protest, he gently lifted Estelle from her lap and took her hand, leading her toward the door.
“Wait, it’s almost midnight—”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes but—”
“Awesome! Mom, we’re leaving!”
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If the the living room was beautifully decorated, the terrace was out of this world.
Percy was relieved that no one had claimed her for their celebrations. The lights lit up the place, contrasting with the soft snow falling gently on the city, transforming everything below into a sea of calm and white.
In one corner, a big blanket rested on the floor, surrounded by scattered cushion. It was small perfect escape.
The cool night air couldn’t reach the warm stillness of it, where the candles burned like magic and the sheets hanging above shielded everything from the real world.
Stunned, she observed Percy walk toward the corner, unaware of the trembling in his legs, his shallow breaths, or the tears that threatened to escape his eyes.
Not because of the cold, but because of the weight of emotions—fear, excitement, all tangled.
The old record player, silent until then, sprang to life with a gentle crackle, the music flowing through the place like a whisper of a forgotten memory.
She couldn’t help but smile, feeling reassured by its familiarity.
The melody sank deep into both their hearts on that terrace, softening them just a bit more. Their eyes locked, his green ones asking—or perhaps pleading—for her to come closer, be near him. 
And she did, it was everything she wanted.
They both found their place on the blanket, cozy in each other's warmth. Their legs were tangled like roots, something unbreakable against the world beneath them, which began to roar with the arrival of a new year, a fresh start.
We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January
“This is lovely,” The daughter of Hypnos rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes as the weight of his hand on her back filled her with calm. She couldn’t resist pressing a kiss to his skin. “Did you make this?”
This is our place, we make the rules
“Yes. I know this is your first holiday away from camp in a long time, I wanted it to be unforgettable.” He whispered, burying his face into the girl's hair.
And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear
He heard her nervous laugh and couldn’t help but ask. “What?”
Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?
“Why?” she admitted, letting the question escape. She didn’t want to make herself a victim, but she was overwhelmed by all this kindness. “Why so much effort?”
Can I go where you go?
Can we always be this close forever and ever?
And he just stared at her. He observed her, took in every part of her.
He studied her face, her expression, her soul. He saw the surprise in her slightly raised eyebrows, the gratitude in the small smile on her lips, the doubt and fear in the way her nose scrunched.
He saw it all.
And ah, take me out, and take me home
And he risked it all.
You're my, my, my, my
“I mean, it's beautiful, and no one's ever done this for me, but—”
Lover.
“I love you.” 
It came out so naturally, so quietly, but with an intensity that made her chest tighten. The world seemed to hold its breath. 
She stared at him, wide-eyed, her mind a blur of thoughts. The snow around them fell heavier now, and as the music swirled, it was his words that rang out loudest.
“I—” She couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to tell him everything she felt. Her mind raced, emotions tangled in a knot she couldn’t untangle.
But he already knew.
A tender smile appeared, and his eyes stayed on hers. The heat of his hand on her back seeped into her cold, flushed face as he watched the tears threatening to fall.
And while he hated seeing her tears, the way her hands gripped desperately his arm made him wish he could cry alongside her.
“I love you,” he repeated. “It's the only thing I can do when I'm near you. And even when I'm not, I find you in everything. In the music I listen, in the words I speak, in what I do. In what I think—for Aphrodite, you live in my mind.”
“Percy—” she breathed, her voice unsteady as she reached for his hand.
“Please, just let me finish,” he murmured, his voice trembling under the weight of his words.
When she nodded, he drew in a deep breath and carried on.
“No one, not a single person, had ever reached my heart. Close? Yes, but you—the moment I saw you, you took it. You took everything I had.”
His girl let out a broken sob, unable to stop as the tears streamed down in torrents, and his gentle hands caught them. His own tears fell, cold and frozen in that moment.
The bells marking the year's final minute started to chime, but they felt like a distant echo, blending with the rhythm of their heartbeat.
Yet, he pressed on.
“And I don’t want it back. Never. It’s yours. Yes, everything is yours. Because—” he interlaced their fingers harder. “Because you’ve made me feel things I didn’t know I could feel. Every emptiness I’ve ever felt disappeared. And every heartbeat that ever meant anything, became you.”
His thumb softly glided over the back of her hand, sending a shiver up her spine. His forehead almost met hers.
She felt his breath on her skin, and she couldn’t help but shut her eyes, letting the sound of his voice and the melody wrap around her like a gentle wave.
But he tapped her nose with his, prompting her to open her eyes. The tears made her vision hazy, but the bright green she saw before her reassured her that everything was fine.
“And now, my life—it's no longer mine. It’s no longer the one I had. It’s the one you’ve built. Every piece of me, every fragment of what I once was, now belongs to you.”
She could feel the fragility in his hands, the quiver in his fingers, and it made her want to hold him even closer, to embrace him until the oxygen was gone, until the birds stopped singing and the universe wiped away everything but them, everything but that moment.
Everything but their love.
“So take it. Take me entirely, all of me, I’m yours." he concluded. "I always have been.”
He was silent, almost still. His eyes were closed, now afraid of what her reaction might reveal.
And the girl smiled, though it turned more into a pout. Her fingers ceased holding onto his hands to lift his chin, something he did constantly to her. He didn’t open his eyes, but let himself be guided.
“Percy,” She gazed at him, and her voice came out in a whisper, as though fearing the magic of the moment would break. 
Without hesitation, they leaned even closer, following the delicate touch of their skin. The gap between them almost completely disappeared.
At last, he opened his eyes. She couldn’t contain what she felt, the urge to tell him everything she had been holding in for so long, though it didn’t measure up to what he had said to her.
The sound of the final five bells echoed, followed by the shouts from the balconies.
"I love you," she said, her heart rising in her throat, her voice quivering.
Five!
“I love you in ways I can’t express with words or gestures. I love you as if my life depended on it—”
Four!
“No, I love you because my life depends on it. Without you, I am nothing.”
Three!
“I once said that you’re the best dream I could wish for—but you're more than that. You're my reality, my light, my existence.”
Two!
“I will take everything from you, if you promise to take everything from me,”
One!
“And keep it forever. Keep me forever, I'll do the same."
Happy New Year!
And finally, she kissed him, their lips meeting in a soft, slow kiss, a kiss brimming with unspoken promises and shared emotions.
It was different than others; it was a start of something more deep. In the delicate pressure of their lips, everything they had ever felt for each other was expressed without a single syllable, their hearts speaking the language that only they understood.
There was no more cold or snow—only the heat of their bodies pressed together, the rhythmic beating of their hearts in sync, and the gentle intertwining of their souls. 
In the end, they pulled away; not because they wanted to, but because the air had become essential, because their hearts needed a moment to calm, despite the urge to stay lost in each other. 
“Happy New Year,” she whispered, as he responded with a smile, his hand reaching up to caress her face again. 
“Happy New Year, my love,” he murmured in return, his voice low, only for her to hear.
“Percy?” she sniffled.
“Yes?”
”Would you be my lover?” 
“I already am,” he leaned forward, pressing a soft peck to her lips. “Since the first day, until the stars fade.”
I CRIED WRITING THIS GOD i think it's so cute. seriously, i want apologize again for disappearing like that, out of nowhere. i feel much better now and wanted to come back with something special. i hope you liked it! also, this doesn’t mean the series is over, they are my babies, and if i have to write about the 70 years they will spend together in my heart, i will do it!
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pickledkiwiberry · 2 days ago
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I can't find the exact one but one of my favorite childhood CD holders looked something like the above. It was a plastic transparent-but-not-see-through drawer that you opened by pushing into the front to pop it open, and then the front part would pop forwards a little to make it easier to access.
The inside was a bunch of soft sleeves attached to the drawer that you could sort your CDs into. I remember not having very much room and pushing CDs together and very carefully sliding them in to avoid scratching them because I was a child and couldn't just go out and buy new CD holders.
That, combined with spindles like this:
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And books like in the original post were everywhere in my home.
And let me tell you: I preferred the floppy disks so much. I had a bunch of 3½" floppy disks (the kind where they're hard plastic and only the internal diskette is still floppy, vs the older kinds where the whole thing was floppy) and they were so nice because they were much easier to store safely, could be rewritten multiple times, and just felt really great to use (the ker-klunk when sliding them in, the ker-pop when ejecting them).
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Not nearly as much storage space but files were so small back then. CDs were more for storing larger archival data (backups) and software (installers, games), and floppies were how I moved files around between computers. How I shared them.
I never used zip drives or any of that family. I didn't need that much storage space.
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But man I really would love to go to an era where the evolution of the ZIP drive, the Clik drive, was the norm.
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Mainly for aesthetic reasons. I think USB drives are fine, but they don't have the satisfying clicks and ejects.
More than anything, though, I wish that people still relied on physical media the way they used to. Now everything's being sent around in cloud storage servers, and backed up to cloud storage servers, and lost in cloud storage server sync failures...
Physical media was so much more under your own control. You didn't have to worry about people tracking what you were doing (even if you think you're not breaking any laws, trust me when I say you'll end up with a record if anybody truly audited your life against the books; so many things that seem intuitively fine are either breach of contract from an EULA you didn't read well enough or surprisingly criminal). You didn't have to worry about the cloud service going offline. Or losing internet.
Electricity was out? As long as you had a generator, those files were still accessible. (I didn't have a generator... couldn't install one in the condos I grew up in, which sucked considering the amount of power outages.)
Internet is so much less reliable by comparison. Cloud providers even less so.
Sure, you had to keep your physical media in the right conditions. The right temperature, humidity, etc. But in my opinion, that's much easier than making sure that your account is secure at all times.
IDK. This sort of thing is why I'm a big fan of Cassette Futurism era of Cyberpunk. The modern Internet-focused Cyberpunk narratives are great for writing dystopian fiction, but the old "haha I stored your soul on a mini CD" era has so much aesthetic appeal and comfort to me.
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sirxlla · 2 days ago
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Non-Emergencies
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Warnings: Fluff, use of Y/N
Prompt: Your Grandma calls 911 to flirt with the firefighters
Notes: Female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.
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-With that said it's all under the cut-
Your grandma needed a little extra help around the house after her hip replacement so you, your mother and father were taking care of her. Currently you were on Grandma duty for the next six hours.
"You should see the firefighters at the station near here, they are just the cutest and the one with the little mark above his eyebrow? Oh, you'd really like him."
You left her alone for five minutes while you got the Uber Eats order and she had already made the call to 911. She put the phone down like she hadn't just commited a crime so of course you expected that maybe she'd called a friend or answered the phone or something, something really benign.
"LAFD, Ma'am are you alright." The 118 had seen your grandmother before, she was a 'frequent flyer' is what they called her. She did often call when she was lonely or couldn't understand how to turn on the tv but she secretly wanted company or to oogle the men.
"Grandma, Why's the fire department here?" You asked with shock and a tad bit of annoyance.
"Is that who I called?" She acted innocent and again like it isnt a crime to call the fire department for nothing.
"That is who you called, Ms. Dotty." Eddie spoke to her and did a check to make sure she's fine cause he has to.
"She's fi-" You started but your grandma interrupted.
"My hearts a little fast but maybe thats just cause of you." The seventy year old flirted with the brunette man.
"Well, arent you a charming showstopper as always, Ms. Dotty." Eddie replied back.
"She doesnt even need anythin-" You start to tell the other man before looking up at him, he had the mark near his eyebrow like she said and god was he beautiful, a killer smile, his hair a bit curly and his eyes were like seas of endles-
"Yeah, we kinda figured but we don't mind checkin up on her." Buck interrupts your thoughts with and you felt weak in your knees as soon as his smile widened.
"Evan Buckley but you can call me Buck if you like, everyone else does." He reached out his hand.
Naturally, due to Buck being insanely charming you were already blushing which caused your grandma to wink at you when Eddie wasn't looking.
"You okay? You seem a little flushed." He retracted his hand and asked you with concern.
"No, I'm good I promise." Trying to hide the blush on your cheeks or the smile of embarrassment that was quickly fighting it's way to your face.
"I heard you boys needed volunteers for the Christmas thing you guys are putting on for the kiddos. I'm sure my granddaughter would love to help out." Your grandma kept trying to play wing-woman for you.
"Well we really do need another woman to help us out and I think she'd be perfect. Can I get your number and I'll just text you the details." Buck said in a slightly flirty tone.
"I wouldnt wanna be a both-"
"Her number is 424-555-7652. Her names Y/N but most people call her Ducky." Your grandma wrote it down and handed it to Evan.
"Awe, Buck and Duck." Eddie starts before their pagers went off with an actual call that wasnt a grandma wanting to flirt with firefighters.
"Well it was lovely to see you, Ms. Dotty!" Eddie packs up the med kit and gets ready to get out of there.
"I'll give you a call, Ducky." Buck says with a blush as he bolts out of there after Eddie.
"I don't know if I should be mad at you or not, Grandma." Still trying to hife the blush or how your eyes had memorized every part of Buck's face.
"I told you he was cute, they both are. If I was younger, I bet the brunette would go for me." Your grandma said with a smirk and a rather large amount of confidence.
"Yeah, I'm sure he would." You laugh a bit, she's always been a little bit of a minx and it was clear that she wasn't going to stop anytime soon.
-> Masterlist <-
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ultram0th · 2 days ago
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December 23: Glen Powell
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00 │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20 │ 21 │ 22 │ 23
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Hunky actor Glen Powell chuckled as he examined the dog mask that he held in his hands. It had been something that he’d received as a Christmas gift from one of the producers from his new movie. It was definitely a gift that was out of the norm, but Glen had accepted it either way.
He could vaguely recall seeing masks like these online, and guys would often wear them shirtless to flex their large muscles with the mask on.
Laughing to himself, Glen couldn’t help himself and he tugged his shirt off, exposing his toned chest muscles. He then pulled the dog mask on, adjusting it to fit perfectly onto his face.
Glen continued to laugh as he lifted a muscled arm, flexing his bicep in the mirror. The fun-loving actor couldn’t help but bust out into hysterics as he flexed while wearing the obscure mask, thinking that this was absolutely a hilarious prank that had been pulled on him.
He went to pull the mask off, his laughing ceasing as he realized that it was stuck.
“What the hell?” Glen hissed as he grabbed onto the ears of the mask with both hands, giving it a rough tug. Still, the mask refused to budge even a centimeter, as if it were superglued to the hunk’s head.
He even tried to find the bottom seam, but it was as if the mask had been suctioned to his skin, preventing him from even getting his fingers into the mask to pry it off.
“Damn it,” Glen huffed angrily as his biceps flexed with power as he tried to yank the stuck mask off. “Why the fuck won’t this thing… Grrrr!”
Glen paused at the odd growl that had escaped his lips. It had been completely unintentional, yet it had felt totally natural.
The hunk cleared his throat as he stumbled towards the kitchen to look for some butter. He opened up the fridge, growling again when he noticed that he didn’t have any butter or anything slippery at all that could help him get the mask off.
“Really… er, WOOF!” Glen barked, literally. The actor’s eyes went wide as saucers as the dog bark escaped his lips. Again, the hunk cleared his throat and tried again. “Woof! Woof! Hrmm… Woof!”
Glen’s heart started to speed up in his muscled chest as he tried to speak. However, no matter how hard he tried to form words, he couldn’t say a single thing besides dog barking. He tried again to pull the mask off his head with all of his might, barking and growling the entire time.
Then Glen tensed up as he felt some sort of invisible force pushing down on his broad back, forcing his legs to buckle. The force grew so strong until he tumbled onto the floor of his kitchen, landing on all fours.
“Woof! Woof!” Glen panicked as he tried to stand back up but was unable to. He tried to balance himself on his legs, barely making it a few inches above the floor before crashing back down onto all fours like an animal.
Glen was so caught up in barking and crawling around on the floor that he didn’t notice someone entering his home until he looked up and saw the older man smirking down at him, his arms crossed in front of his beefy chest.
“Well, well,” the older man mused, “looks who’s finished their transformation into a Good Boy!”
At the phrase “Good Boy”, Glen felt something inside of him snap. He couldn’t help but happily start barking excitedly as he rushed forward to the other man on all fours, his butt wiggling behind him wildly as if he were wagging a tail.
Deep down, Glen was aware of his actions, but he couldn’t stop. Had the dog mask not been covering his face, the other man would’ve been able to see that it was cherry red… albeit with a big, goofy grin on it from the extreme excitement he felt. Worse was that the more he stared at the other man, the harder he felt his cock get.
Glen felt utterly humiliated as his hard cock bobbed in front of him, but he couldn’t even bring himself to hide it as he continued to happily bark at the older man’s feet.
“Good boy,” the older man cooed playfully, tracing a large hand over Glen’s broad back, sending a shudder through the actor that made his hard cock throb. “Let’s go ahead and get you home so we can show you off to your new owner. My husband’s gonna be so happy. He’s aways wanted a dog.”
Glen screamed on the inside as he felt a collar being slipped comfortably around his neck. The older man led him by a leash, walking him out of his home and onto the busy sidewalk. He was mortified at his hard, naked body being on full display as he crawled on all fours like a dog; but he couldn’t show any of his embarrassment. 
Instead, Glen kept his head held high, his chest muscles puffed out. His body knew that he was a good dog, and he couldn’t resist letting out another bark at the excitement he felt over getting a walk. He was such a good boy.
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fledgedragonfox · 2 days ago
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A Wizard's Will
"you know you are only supposed to have 1 apprentice maybe 2 not 15." said the wizard council member "well until people stop leaving surprisingly powerful orphans at my doorstep I'll be taking care of my 17 apprentices." The council member snapped their wand "WHERE DID YOU GET 3 MORE!"
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Bartriol the Brown gave a very deep sigh as the council erupted around him. The Blue who had spoken was nearly frothing at the mouth as he tried to process the situation. There were no strict rules against having so many apprentices, of course. But the older members of the council were sticklers for tradition. But really, was it Bartriol’s fault that so many magically inclined children were left abandoned in his woods? No. No it wasn’t, and he’d thank you very much for not insinuating such a thing. 
“Despite Nector’s anger, he makes a valid point Bartriol.” Navester the Green chimed in. Ever calm, ever courteous. He sat smiling over his half moon glasses as he looked Bartriol over. “We as wizards have a duty to teach the next generation of wizard kind, but surely having seventeen pupils must be taxing.” He said, ever poised and soothing. All his words got him was a flat look and several groans from the blues. 
“Well, if you don’t want me to raise such bright talents by myself, find out who keeps abandoning them.” Bartriol responded as he pushed back his chair. “Meanwhile, little Wecco requested I pick up some of that nice elven taffy on my way. And Markle has that nasty cough. Really I must be off” Several members of the council tried to stop him, but Bartiol was out the door and on the back of his pet griffon before they could blink.
True to his word, Bartriol stopped by the lovely little candy shop in elven towne and bought enough taffy to feed his little army. Then he popped into the hedge witch’s for a tonic for Markle. A quick flight had him back in his clearing. A cozy cottage was tucked into the roots of a massive tree. Windows dotted the trunk, all the way up and above the treeline. His garden was green and bright even as the chills of fall were beginning to nip about. 
Laughter filled the clearing as his apprentices practiced. Some of his older ones were practicing with their newly carved staves. Nico and Scarlet were having a mock battle while Ozmund fiddled with the gemstone on the tip of his staff.  Hecubah was spending her time grooming the countless cats that had emerged from the wood to meet her. She would certainly be a brown when she was old enough for a robe. Wickle was picking blackberries for some strange concoction they were planning. 
“Master Bartriol, Master Bartriol!” A voice called out, getting closer all the time. He turned to see Baker jogging up to him. Finally reaching eighteen, Baker had only recently been given a robe. Bartriol had practically glowed as his eldest had been deemed worthy of a grey robe. “What did the council need you for?” The boy asked. Translation: “Why did the council feel the need to summon a brown rather than just come for a visit?”. Bartriol was inclined to agree. After all, Wickle and Walker had just perfected a rather scrumptious cream tart that most of the white wizards simply adored. 
“Oh, it was nothing. The blues are getting jealous I think.” Bartriol said, a twinkle in his eye. The young man was a bit confused, but his mature facade melted just as soon as the bag of taffy hit his chest. His eyes lit up like he was a child again. Bartriol didn’t linger, instead walking up the path to his home. Tossing bags of taffy left and right to be caught or fumbled by his gaggle of trouble makers. 
The inside of his cottage was just as chaotic. Mice and hedgehogs were ferrying items and ingredients from the pantry and into the kitchen. In all corners his children shrieked, played, and practiced. Wecco popped into existence with a loud crack. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates. Bartriol laughed, and complimented her on her sudden apparition, before dropping a bag of taffy in her waiting hands. She hugged him round the waist and with another loud crack was gone. 
Taffy was handed off to Bailey, Shiphand, Byrd, Terrycloth, Winona, and Lumps as he passed them by. Some of his children' s names were less than fortunate, but until they decided to change them there was nothing to be done. His children gave choruses of thanks as he smiled and commented on their studies. He ascended the stairs and made his way to the sick room, where little Markle and Westron were resting. 
“Hullo master Bartriol.” Markle said, coughing into his hand. Squella, the second eldest, and only one of his apprentices who was not of human birth, hopped onto the desk and chirped a hello. She often volunteered her time watching over her sick siblings. Bartriol was certain she would end up in a green robe before the year was out. The little borrower squeaked in pure joy at the huge bag of taffy that Bartriol sat beside her. Westron lay in bed, struggling to keep a human form. The poor lad had flesh magic, and Bartiol was still searching for a way to help him control it. 
“And how are we all doing today?” Bartriol asked, pulling out the cough syrup he’d picked up and coaxing Markle to drink some of the bitter sweet concoction. As the trio began to open up about their day. The wizard rubbed soothing circles in Westron's aching back as they talked and enjoyed their taffy. Yes the blues could kick up a fuss and complain, but really where else would the children go? It seemed to Bartriol that the blue wizards were simply jealous they hadn’t produced a single non-blue wizard in years.
While a lowly brown had produced a grey, and was well on the way to making a great splash with the rest of his apprentices. Really though, even if they hadn’t a single lick of talent for wizardry, he would still bring them in from the cold all the same. Wickle and Walker would surely be hedge witches one day with how they cooked and baked. As the pair of sicklings tired themselves out, Bartriol excused himself from Squella’s company to take a walk through the woods. It had been a good few months since Markle and Westron had come to him. It would probably be smart to check the edges of the wood just in case another little one had been left behind. 
After all, if people were going to leave surprisingly powerful orphans all alone in his woods, he might as well take care of them. Blues be damned. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For anyone wondering, I do have some more ideas on how these wizards work, but for that I'll need to do a few more prompts. lol. Let me know what you think!!!
Also, figured I might as well share this again. Losing a bit of heart but well, here it is.
All of the details for the gofundme can be found on the gofundme page, I promise.
Pareon: Artemis Dragonfox Gofundme: https://gofund.me/d271f0c4
"you know you are only supposed to have 1 apprentice maybe 2 not 15." said the wizard council member "well until people stop leaving surprisingly powerful orphans at my doorstep I'll be taking care of my 17 apprentices." The council member snapped their wand "WHERE DID YOU GET 3 MORE!"
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piggyinthemiddle · 2 days ago
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🐷💭
"What do you like about gaining?" A lot of people ask me this every week and I often want to go all out on my reply but usually don't have the time.
For quite some time, I thought that my main reason to love gaining was the stuffing and feeling full after huge meals. The satisfaction, the aching sides and the tight, pressured sensation in my stomach at every panting breath. And don't get me wrong, it's amazing when you're into it.
Running your hands over your belly and feeling the round globe that is now your stomach, underneath the squishy fat that you put on, like a balloon under your fingertips.
Having the whole area above your belly button feel taught and slightly sore. Having to put your hands between the rolls on your hips to straighten your back, just to take a deeper breath.
Feeling that packed, rock hard food balloon drag you down when you move, the pressure it puts onto your back?
The knowledge just how much food you crammed in there? Damn hot. Don't get me wrong.
But you know what's almost even better?
The sensation you feel when after a few days, weeks, months, all this stuffing and gorging turns into actual fat. Realising just how much you have grown yet again.
Waking up in the morning, the first thing you do is grab your empty, soft, yet ridiculously heavy belly. Kneading the rolls between your fingers, maybe giving it a playful pat. The jiggles rippling all across your abdomen and you can just *tell* that you've grown fatter once more.
Getting out of bed, waddling to the bathroom. Your thighs got so wide that you nearly ripped your favourite jeans yesterday. They're swinging back and forth, your underbelly slapping against them with soft "thuds" as you move.
In the bathroom, brushing your warm skin against the cold counter and checking the mirror. Grabbing yourself with two hands, scooping up and plopping your sagging belly into the sink, listening to the sound it makes. A bit like pizza dough, muffled and heavy. Noticing it's definitely bigger, reaching even further into the sink than 2 or 3 weeks ago.
The rolls and folds that form where your belly meet the counter are getting thicker and juicier, you can grab, pinch and wobble them. They feel soft, yet full.
Lifting and pinching different rolls of chub all over your gut, exposing old and new stretchmarks and thinner, silvery skin in the areas where you ballooned the most.
Knowing you did that on purpose. You didn't just get fatter, you fattened yourself like that.
Feeling yourself grow heavier and slower from all you do. Reaching your weight goals not just for the sake of being ready-to-pop full but because you honestly love the beauty of fat, the curves and the folds and marks. The progress.
Having constant access to this body, getting to enjoy and embrace your weight and fatness because you just can.
That, my friends...is why I love gaining.
Thanks for listening.
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dreamdragonkadia · 3 days ago
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MA’AM 😭 your writing is amazing and I just love it all!!
Would you be willing to write something so so so fluffy for Xaden please? I don’t have any specific ideas 😅
Oh my gosh, thank you!! These are such kind words I needed today, but of course, I'd love to write you some more Xaden
There was just something... so painfully, achingly human about the emotions you were feeling. According to your dragon, at least, who couldn’t quite wrap their head around why humans let bad days consume them. As if dragons themselves were above such things. They didn’t have deadlines, or social expectations, or the constant pressure to be more, do more. They didn’t feel the slow, creeping brick of doubt that you swore could crush you some days.
But everyone had bad days, didn’t they? Even dragons, no matter what they said. And today, you just wanted to vanish. To skip every obligation and hide away from the world until you could breathe again. No classes, no training, no people. Just you, the sky, and the quiet.
Unfortunately, your dragon had other plans. 'my rider is no quitter,' they’d declared with the kind of unwavering certainty that only a dragon could muster. You’d groaned aloud, muttering something snarky under your breath, but there was no reasoning with the creature in your head. Their stubbornness was legendary.
So now, here you were, perched on the stone lip of one of the bell towers, staring out at the sprawling view of the Riders’ Quadrant below. The wind whipped around you, tugging at your hair, stinging your cheeks, and making your jacket billow. You didn’t mind. It made the world feel just a little smaller, a little quieter.
The sound of approaching footsteps broke the fragile silence. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was—the bond you shared was unmistakable. It was more than just intuition; it was a soft pull, a hum that told you exactly when he was around like second nature.
Still, you couldn’t stop the small grin that tugged at your lips when Xaden Riorson finally appeared. He stepped out onto the ledge, his dark hair windswept, his flight jacket unzipped, and his eyes scanning the space until they landed on you.
“I figured I’d find you up here,” he said, as he crossed the distance between you. He didn’t hesitate, leaning down to press a kiss against the crown of your head. “Hello, beautiful. Sgaeyl said you were having a bad day.”
You groaned, loud enough to make sure your dragon heard. “Busybody,” you muttered mentally, your words dripping with mock annoyance. Of course dragons had to talk to each other. Why wouldn’t they? Privacy wasn’t exactly their strong suit.
The amused rumble echoed faintly in your mind, but you ignored it, focusing instead on the warmth of Xaden’s presence. He stepped closer, his hands sliding out of his jacket pockets before he pulled you into his arms. His embrace was firm, grounding, as if he could hold you together by sheer will alone.
“You could’ve just let me wallow in peace, you know,” you mumbled against his chest, though there was no real heat in your words.
He chuckled, a soft sound that vibrated through you. “Not a chance. Wallowing isn’t really your thing, anyway.”
You tilted your head up to give him a skeptical look. “And you’d know?”
“Of course I know,” he teased, brushing his lips against your temple. “I make it my business to know everything about you.”
His words were light, playful, but they warmed something deep inside you. You sighed, your shoulders easing just slightly as you let yourself lean into him.
“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.
You shrugged, unable to find the words to articulate what you needed. You didn’t even know what you needed. But you stayed where you were, letting the beat of his heart beneath your ear drown out the noise in your mind.
Xaden seemed to sense your hesitation. “How about this,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “We skip dinner in the hall. I’ll sneak you some of that honey bread you like so much, and we can hide out in my room. Just the two of us. A blanket, a terrible book for you to complain about, and maybe—if you’re nice—a cup of that spiced tea you’re obsessed with.”
Despite yourself, a soft laugh escaped you. “You really know how to spoil a girl, don’t you?”
“I have my moments,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.
You tilted your head back to look at him properly, and the sincerity in his eyes made your chest ache in the best way. The heavy day was still there, but with Xaden here, it felt... lighter. Manageable.
“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
“For what?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as if the idea confused him.
“For being you,” you said simply. Your hand found his, fingers lacing together, and you gave it a small squeeze.
His expression softened, the smile giving way to something far gentler. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, and the world seemed to hold its breath.
“I’ll always be here. Good days, bad days, all the in-between. I’ve got you.”
You believed him. With everything you had, you believed him.
And as he kissed you, slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that made the rest of the world fade away, you realized that maybe—just maybe—this day wasn’t so bad after all.
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ijustmissyouraccenths · 20 hours ago
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Love Bites
A bookstore barista catches the attention of a vampire drawn to her scent, and everything changes when she invites him in.
Word Count: 6,956
Content Warning: mentions of blood and biting.
The rain poured steadily, creating rivers along the curbs and a persistent rhythm against the asphalt. Y/n pulled her coat tighter around her, the cold seeping through the damp fabric. The dim glow of streetlights reflected off the wet pavement, casting distorted halos that barely lit the way. Her shoes squished with every step, water seeping through the soles as she navigated the uneven sidewalk.
She glanced around, the city that never sleeps unusually subdued in the downpour. The occasional car splashed by, headlights cutting through the darkness, but the streets felt eerily empty. Her apartment was still several blocks away, and the thought of the warmth inside kept her moving despite the chill that gripped her.
The rain masked the usual cacophony of the city, leaving only the sound of water and her own breathing. As she rounded a corner, a faint light from a bodega sign flickered, offering a brief sense of orientation in the endless maze of shadows and slick surfaces.
“Almost there,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible over the rain. But with every step forward, the night seemed to grow darker, the path more uncertain.
Y/n barely noticed the bodega’s door swinging open until a figure stepped out into the rain. She flinched slightly, startled by the sudden movement. A man stood there, pulling up the hood of his coat, his face half-lit by the flickering neon sign above.
“Bit of a miserable night, isn’t it?” he said, his accent soft and distinctly British, cutting through the rain like a warm thread.
Y/n blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The man’s green eyes seemed to hold an unusual brightness despite the gloom, his hair damp and curling slightly at the edges where it peeked out from under his hood.
“Yeah, you could say that,” she replied, clutching her coat a little tighter, the chill biting at her fingertips.
He gave a small, almost sheepish smile, the kind that didn’t quite belong on someone standing in the middle of a downpour. “You alright? Look like you’ve had a bit of a rough one.”
Y/n hesitated, unsure why she felt compelled to answer. There was something disarming about him, his tone unassuming, as if they’d crossed paths a thousand times before. “Just trying to get home,” she finally said, her voice soft but steady.
He nodded, glancing down the street as if considering her path. “Not too far, I hope?”
“A few more blocks,” she said, motioning vaguely in the direction she’d been heading.
He tilted his head, a small crease forming between his brows. “This time of night, in this weather… mind some company? At least until you’re closer to home?”
Y/n studied him for a moment, weighing her options. He didn’t seem threatening—just someone caught in the same rainstorm, maybe trying to make it a little less lonely. After a pause, she gave a slight nod.
“Alright,” she said, her voice quieter now. “If you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, I’m Harry by the way,” he replied, falling into step beside her. The rain continued its steady rhythm, but somehow, the darkness didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.
The rain softened to a mist as Y/n and Harry walked side by side, their footsteps splashing lightly against the wet pavement. The quiet lull of the city made their conversation feel intimate, as though the rest of the world had faded away.
“So,” Y/n began, sneaking a glance at him from the corner of her eye. His hood had slipped back slightly, revealing more of his damp curls. “What were you doing out so late in this weather?”
Harry smiled faintly, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “Needed a walk. Clears my head, y’know? And the rain… well, it’s peaceful in its own way.”
Y/n hummed in agreement, noting the melodic lilt of his voice. She found herself glancing at him more often than she meant to. There was something otherworldly about him—his pale complexion almost luminous under the faint glow of the streetlights, his features sharp but softened by a kindness in his eyes.
“And you? What’s got you out here braving the elements?” he asked, turning his gaze toward her.
“Long day at work,” she admitted, sighing. “I usually take the subway, but it was packed, and I just… needed some air.”
Harry nodded, as if he understood completely. “Fair enough. Sometimes the chaos down there feels worse than the storm up here.”
As they walked, Y/n noticed how his presence seemed to ease her nerves. She didn’t normally trust strangers—especially not in a city like this, and especially not on dark, rainy nights. But with Harry, it felt different. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt safe, as though he was someone she’d known for years rather than minutes.
They reached the corner of her street, and she glanced at him again. His coat clung to his frame, and she realized he wasn’t shivering despite the cold. In fact, he seemed entirely unaffected by the weather, like he belonged to the rain and the darkness surrounding them.
“You live nearby?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
He nodded, gesturing vaguely down the street. “A few buildings that way. Looks like we’re practically neighbors.”
She smiled, a small warmth blossoming in her chest. “Small world.”
Harry’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, a softness there that made her cheeks heat despite the cold. “It is,” he said quietly, his tone almost wistful.
As they stopped in front of her apartment building, Y/n hesitated, unsure of what to say. She didn’t want the moment to end, even though they were still practically strangers.
“This is me,” she said finally, gesturing toward the door.
Harry nodded, his smile faint but genuine. “Glad I could walk you home, Y/n.”
She blinked, her heart skipping. “How did you know my name?”
For a split second, his expression flickered—something unreadable passing across his face—but then his smile returned. “You told me earlier, didn’t you?”
Y/n frowned, certain she hadn’t. But before she could question it further, Harry gave a slight nod.
“Get inside before you catch a cold,” he said gently. “Goodnight.”
And just like that, he turned and disappeared into the misty rain, leaving Y/n standing there, heart racing, wondering why she felt so drawn to him. 
The next day
The bell above the bookshop door jingled as Y/n worked behind the counter, the steady hum of espresso machines and soft chatter creating a comforting background noise. She loved her job, it was the perfect blend of cozy and bustling, surrounded by books and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
She glanced up as a familiar figure caught her eye. Harry was sitting at a corner table in the café, a book open in front of him. His damp curls from the night before were now dry, but he still had that same ethereal look about him—pale and strikingly beautiful, like he’d stepped out of a painting.
Y/n hesitated for a moment, then decided to approach him. She grabbed a clean cloth and pretended to wipe down the nearby table before stopping beside his.
“Well, well,” she said, crossing her arms with a teasing smile. “Are you following me now, or is this just a coincidence?”
Harry looked up from his book, his lips curving into a small smile. “Caught me,” he replied, his tone playful. “Couldn’t resist the coffee.”
Y/n chuckled, leaning slightly against the back of a chair. “You know, most people come here for the books and the coffee. It’s kind of our thing.”
He raised a brow, amusement dancing in his green eyes. “Is that so? What if I’m just here for the company?”
She rolled her eyes, suppressing the grin tugging at her lips. “Smooth.” Gesturing to the menu board, she asked, “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Pastry? We’ve got these killer croissants today.”
Harry tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “I don’t really eat…”
Y/n blinked, her smile faltering. “Oh. Uh… okay. Just coffee, then?”
He shook his head, his gaze steady but kind. “I’m good with this.” He tapped the book in front of him, avoiding her curious stare.
A strange vibe settled between them, and Y/n felt a small prickle of unease. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something about the way he’d said it—so casual, yet so odd—stuck with her.
“Well, if you change your mind, I’m just over there,” she said, forcing a smile as she nodded toward the counter.
“Thanks, Y/n,” Harry said softly, his voice carrying that same calm warmth that had put her at ease the night before.
She walked away, glancing back once to find him already immersed in his book again. The unease lingered, though, as if there was more to Harry than he was letting on.
Y/n lingered behind the counter, her hands busy with a towel as she wiped down the espresso machine. But her thoughts kept drifting to Harry, sitting so calmly at his table like he belonged there, as if their encounter last night hadn’t been strange at all. The question that had nagged her since then resurfaced, and before she could overthink it, she walked back over to his table.
“Alright,” she said, stopping in front of him, her arms crossed over her apron. “I need to ask you something.”
Harry looked up from his book, his brow lifting slightly. “Go on.”
She hesitated, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious under his calm, steady gaze. “Last night, when you walked me home, you said my name. But I never told you what it was. How did you know?”
For a moment, Harry didn’t say anything. His lips parted as if he were about to speak, but he seemed to think better of it. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“You sure you didn’t tell me?” he asked lightly, though there was something unreadable in his tone.
“I’m sure,” Y/n said firmly, narrowing her eyes. “It’s not exactly something I forget.”
Harry tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe I overheard someone else say it.”
“There was no one else around,” she countered, crossing her arms tighter.
He chuckled softly, the sound low and melodic. “You’re very observant, aren’t you?”
“It’s a fair question,” she pressed, feeling a mix of curiosity and frustration. “It’s not every day a stranger magically knows your name.”
Harry’s smile faded slightly, his gaze softening. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “It’s not.”
Y/n felt her breath hitch at his tone, the way it seemed to hold more weight than his casual demeanor suggested.
“So?” she prompted, leaning closer. “How?”
Harry glanced down at his book for a moment, his fingers brushing the edges of the pages. Then he looked back up at her, his green eyes almost glowing under the café’s warm lights.
“Let’s just say,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m very good with names. Especially when they belong to people I’d like to remember.”
Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his words. There was something cryptic in his answer, something that left her feeling like she was only scratching the surface of a much larger mystery.
She straightened, unsure of how to respond. “That’s… vague.”
Harry smiled again, softer this time. “Maybe some things are better left that way.”
Y/n studied him for a moment longer, her unease mixed with an undeniable curiosity. Finally, she nodded, stepping back. “Alright, mystery man. But don’t think I’m letting this go.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he said, his smile returning, though his eyes seemed to hold a secret he wasn’t quite ready to share.
The days slipped by, and the bookshop settled back into its usual rhythm—customers browsing shelves, the hiss of steam from the espresso machine, the steady hum of conversations drifting through the café. But Y/n’s thoughts kept wandering to Harry.
She hadn’t seen him since that day. No quiet figure tucked into the corner with a book, no knowing smiles or cryptic comments. She found herself glancing toward the door whenever the bell jingled, half-expecting him to walk in with that calm, unreadable expression. But he didn’t.
“Everything okay?” her coworker, Ellie, asked as she restocked a display of mugs.
Y/n blinked, realizing she’d been staring at the café’s empty corner table for too long. “Yeah,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just zoning out.”
Ellie gave her a knowing look. “You’ve been weird lately. Is this about the guy who was here the other day? The tall one with the curls?”
“What? No,” Y/n said, maybe a little too defensively.
Ellie smirked. “Uh-huh. Sure.”
Y/n sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face. “It’s not like that. He’s just… interesting. And I haven’t seen him around. I might’ve scared him off.”
Ellie raised an eyebrow. “What’d you do? Grill him on his life story?”
“Maybe,” Y/n muttered, heat rising to her cheeks.
Her coworker laughed. “Relax. If he’s worth it, he’ll come back. Guys like that always do.”
But as the hours ticked by and the café emptied out for the night, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. Harry wasn’t just any guy. There was something different about him—something that made her want to figure him out, even if she couldn’t explain why.
Later, as she locked up the shop and stepped out into the crisp evening air, she found herself looking down the street toward the direction of his building. The thought crossed her mind: What if I went to see if he’s around?
She shook her head, pushing the idea away. It was silly. He was a stranger, practically. But even as she walked home, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d see him again or if she’d scared him away for good.
The rain had stopped earlier in the evening, leaving the streets slick and shining under the glow of the streetlights. Y/n pulled her jacket tighter around herself as she walked, the familiar route past the bodega feeling strangely empty tonight.
She hadn’t planned to take this way home, but her feet had carried her here anyway, as if some part of her was hoping to see him again. The corner bodega’s neon sign buzzed faintly, casting a pale light on the pavement. The door was open, a faint clink of glass bottles and low conversation spilling out, but Harry wasn’t there.
Y/n lingered for a moment, pretending to check her phone as she glanced around. The street was quiet except for the occasional car passing by, its headlights cutting through the dimness.
What are you even doing? she thought, feeling a little ridiculous. It wasn’t like Harry had promised to meet her here or even hinted at being nearby. For all she knew, he was off doing something completely unrelated to her.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something—or someone.
With a sigh, she adjusted her bag on her shoulder and started walking again, her shoes clicking softly against the wet pavement. The night felt heavier than usual, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
When she finally reached her apartment building, she paused on the steps, casting one last glance down the street. Nothing. No sign of him, no flash of dark curls or the quiet intensity of his gaze.
Maybe he really is gone, she thought, a pang of disappointment settling in her chest.
As she unlocked the door and stepped inside, she resolved to let it go. Harry was just a stranger who had crossed her path briefly—nothing more. 
The weeks passed in a blur of routine. Y/n poured herself into her work at the café, stacking books, crafting perfect cappuccinos, and chatting with regulars. But her mind often drifted to Harry—his mysterious air, his cryptic comments, and his sudden absence. Every night she took the same route past the bodega, hoping for even a glimpse of him, but the streets remained empty of him.
Until one night.
The air was biting as she walked, her breath visible in the faint glow of the streetlights. The bodega’s sign buzzed faintly in the distance, and she was about to pass it when a shadow shifted in her peripheral vision.
“Y/n.”
The voice was unmistakable—low, soft, and tinged with something that made her heart skip. She turned quickly, and there he was.
But he wasn’t the same Harry she remembered. His usually radiant complexion looked pale and dull, his dark curls messier than before. There were faint shadows under his eyes, and his shoulders seemed to sag as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.
“Harry,” she breathed, a mix of relief and concern flooding her. “Where have you been?”
He offered a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Around.” His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t spoken much in days.
Y/n took a hesitant step closer, her worry growing. “You don’t look so good. Are you okay?”
He hesitated, his gaze flickering down the street as if he were debating whether to stay or leave. “I’ll be fine,” he said finally, though the words felt hollow.
She frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s not convincing.” Without thinking, she added, “Come back to my place. You look like you need… something. Rest, food, whatever.”
Harry’s eyes snapped to hers, wide with surprise. For a moment, he seemed frozen, as if the idea of being taken care of was foreign to him. “Y/n, I—”
“No arguments,” she interrupted, her voice firmer than she expected. “It’s cold, and you look like you’re about to keel over. My apartment’s just a few blocks away.”
He stared at her, his jaw tightening as if he were about to refuse. But then something in his expression softened, and he gave a small nod.
“Alright,” he murmured. “Lead the way.”
The walk to her apartment was quiet, the sound of their footsteps the only noise between them. Y/n kept glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to piece together what had happened in the weeks since she’d last seen him. He looked strung out.
When they reached her building, she opened the door and gestured for him to follow her inside. “It’s not much,” she said as they climbed the stairs, “but it’s warm.”
Once inside, she flipped on the lights, casting the small living room in a cozy glow. Harry stepped in hesitantly, his gaze sweeping over the space.
“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, shrugging off her coat. “I’ll grab you something to drink.”
He nodded, sinking onto the edge of her couch as if he didn’t quite belong there. As Y/n moved to the kitchen, she couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him and why, despite his mysterious nature, she felt so compelled to help him.
Y/n filled a glass with water in the kitchen, the sound of the tap running filling the quiet apartment. She glanced toward the living room, where Harry sat on the edge of the couch, his posture stiff, his hands loosely clasped between his knees.
“Here,” she said, walking over and holding the glass out to him. “You look like you could use this.”
Harry glanced at it but didn’t move to take it. “I’m not thirsty,” he said softly, his tone calm but firm.
Y/n frowned, lowering the glass slightly. “You sure? You look—”
“I’m sure,” he interrupted gently, offering a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
She hesitated, the glass still in her hand. The refusal wasn’t rude, but there was something about it that felt… off. Her instincts prickled again, the same way they had back at the café when he’d made that odd comment about not eating food.
To ease the tension building in her chest, she forced a nervous laugh and said, “What, are you a vampire or something?”
The room fell silent.
Harry’s faint smile vanished, and his gaze locked on hers, unblinking and intense. The air seemed to shift, the cozy warmth of the apartment suddenly feeling stifling.
Y/n’s heart thudded in her chest as the seconds stretched on, her own laugh fading into the stillness. “I was just kidding,” she said quickly, her voice quieter now.
Harry’s expression softened slightly, but there was something guarded in his eyes. “That’s an interesting guess,” he said finally, his tone measured.
The way he said it sent a chill down her spine. She tried to laugh again, but it came out shaky. “Well, you’re pale, you don’t eat, you’re… mysterious. You kind of fit the stereotype.”
Harry leaned back slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “And would it scare you if I were?”
Y/n froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not—and that uncertainty was the most unsettling part of all.
“Harry,” she said carefully, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re kidding, right?”
He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment before meeting hers again. “Maybe,” he said quietly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
The room felt heavier now, the unspoken tension crackling in the air. Y/n clutched the glass tighter, her mind racing. She couldn’t decide if he was messing with her or if there was something she was better off not knowing.
Y/n blinked, unsure if she had heard him correctly. “What?” she asked, her voice a little unsteady.
Harry tilted his head slightly, his green eyes steady and unreadable. “If I were a vampire,” he said softly, his tone as calm as if they were discussing the weather, “would you let me… drink your blood?”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she continued to tighten her grip on the glass of water, unsure whether to laugh, run, or… stay. The question was absurd, yet the way he asked it—so direct, so quiet—made her pulse quicken in a way she couldn’t quite define.
“I—uh…” Y/n stammered, shifting on her feet. She tried to gauge his expression, but it was impossible to tell if he was serious or just teasing her.
“You’re nervous,” Harry said, leaning forward slightly. His voice was low, but it wasn’t threatening. If anything, it sounded… curious. “But you’re not afraid.”
Y/n swallowed hard, her breath catching as she realized he was right. Her nervousness wasn’t from fear—it was from something else entirely. A strange mix of curiosity and anticipation coursed through her, leaving her unsure of how to respond.
“Well,” she said finally, trying to keep her voice light, “I think most people would be nervous if someone asked to suck their blood, Harry. Hypothetically or not.”
His lips quirked into the faintest of smiles, though his gaze remained fixed on her. “Fair point,” he murmured, his tone almost playful. “But you haven’t answered the question.”
Y/n stared at him, her mind racing. Was he joking? Was he testing her? Was this just another layer of his cryptic nature, or was there something more?
“I don’t know,” she said at last, her voice quiet. “Would it hurt?”
The question escaped her before she could stop it, and her cheeks burned as she realized what she’d just said.
Harry’s smile grew slightly, the intensity in his eyes softening just a fraction. “Not as much as you’d think,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper.
For a moment, the room felt impossibly still, the air thick with an unspoken tension. Y/n’s mind screamed at her to break the silence, to laugh it off, to do something—but all she could do was stand there, caught in the strange pull of his gaze.
Harry’s gaze darkened, his lips curving into a faint, almost predatory smile. “So,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Would you let me do it?”
Y/n’s breath hitched, her pulse pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She didn’t speak, couldn’t find the words, but after a moment, she nodded—slowly, hesitantly.
His eyes flickered with something she couldn’t quite place, and before she could second-guess herself, Harry closed the distance between them. His hands cupped her face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the tension in the air, and then his lips were on hers.
The kiss was soft at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepened, his fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her closer. Y/n felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, every thought and worry drowned out by the electric connection sparking between them.
Before she realized it, Harry’s lips left hers, trailing a line of featherlight kisses along her jaw, down to the curve of her neck.
“Trust me,” he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and sending shivers down her spine.
Y/n barely had time to process his words before she felt the sharp, sudden sting of his teeth breaking the surface of her skin. The pain was fleeting, replaced almost instantly by a strange, heady warmth that spread through her like liquid fire. Her knees wobbled, and she clutched at his shoulders to steady herself, her mind spinning.
Harry held her firmly, his grip strong but careful, as if he were afraid of breaking her. She could feel the pull of his mouth on her neck, the sensation both terrifying and intoxicating.
When he finally drew back, his lips red and his breathing heavy, Y/n swayed slightly, her vision hazy.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.
Y/n blinked up at him, her hand instinctively going to her neck. She nodded, though her words came out shaky. “Yeah… I think so.”
Harry’s expression softened, his hand brushing her cheek. “Good,” he murmured. But there was something in his eyes—an intensity, a hunger—that made her heart race all over again.
Y/n leaned back against the armrest of the couch, her hand still pressed lightly to her neck. The room felt brighter, sharper—her senses alive in a way they had never been before. She wasn’t scared; if anything, she felt a strange, almost blissful calm.
“Is this…” she began, her voice dreamy, “going to turn me into a vampire or something?”
Harry let out a low laugh, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “No,” he said, his tone amused but gentle. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s a bit more… complicated than in the stories.”
Y/n tilted her head, her curiosity piqued despite the haze of euphoria swirling through her. “So, how does it work?”
Harry’s eyes softened as he looked at her, though the faint hunger lingering in them hadn’t entirely disappeared. “You’d have to drink from me, for one,” he said, his voice low, intimate. “But it’s not something I’d let happen. Not to you.”
She frowned slightly, her fingers absently tracing her neck where she could feel the faint warmth from the bite. “Why not?”
He smiled faintly, leaning closer, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Because I like you the way you are,” he said simply, his voice carrying an honesty that made her heart skip.
The faint flush in her cheeks deepened, and she looked away, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re… different,” she murmured, unsure if it was a compliment or an observation.
“So are you,” Harry countered, his voice soft but serious. “More than you know.”
Before she could respond, he added, almost to himself, “You taste… sweet. Like nothing I’ve ever had before.” His gaze met hers, his lips curving into a sly smile. “I could find myself addicted to you, Y/n.”
Her heart thudded at his words, a mix of excitement and trepidation flooding her. “Is that… a bad thing?”
Harry’s smile faltered for a moment, and his expression grew darker, more thoughtful. “It could be,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “For both of us.”
The weight of his words hung between them, but Y/n found herself unable to look away from him. Despite everything—his mysterious nature, his cryptic answers, and now, the undeniable truth of what he was—she didn’t feel afraid.
Instead, she felt drawn to him even more.
Harry’s gaze held hers, an intensity in his expression that made Y/n’s breath catch. He leaned back slightly, running a hand through his tousled curls as if weighing whether or not to speak.
Finally, he sighed, his voice low and deliberate. “The first night I saw you… outside the bodega,” he began, his green eyes locking onto hers, “it wasn’t by chance.”
Y/n tilted her head, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”
He hesitated, a faint flicker of guilt flashing in his expression. “I… I caught your scent,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “As I walked out, it hit me like nothing I’d ever experienced before. Sweet, warm, impossible to ignore.”
She blinked, stunned by his words. “You smelled me?”
Harry gave a small, almost apologetic smile. “It’s a… heightened sense. Part of what I am. Your scent—it was unlike anything I’d ever encountered. I couldn’t help myself. I followed it.”
Y/n’s pulse quickened, her thoughts racing. “You followed me?”
“To your apartment,” he admitted, his voice steady but tinged with vulnerability. “And then… to your job the next day. I couldn’t stay away. I needed to understand why I felt so drawn to you.”
Y/n stared at him, her mind swirling with questions. “So… when you showed up at the café, that wasn’t a coincidence either?”
He shook his head, leaning forward slightly. “No. It was intentional. But when I met you, when we talked… it wasn’t just your scent anymore. You were…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “You were magnetic. I was… enamored.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she felt her stomach flip at his confession. “Then why did you stop coming around?”
Harry looked away, his jaw tightening briefly. “Because I was afraid you’d catch on. That you’d figure out what I am, or worse… that I’d lose control.” He met her gaze again, his voice softer now. “But when I saw you taking that same route every night, I knew you were looking for me. And I couldn’t stay away anymore.”
Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. “You came back… for me?”
“Yes,” he said simply, his tone unwavering. “I tried to stay away, but you… you make that impossible.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, the weight of his words settling over her. She should’ve been frightened—by the revelation, by the intensity of his feelings but instead, she felt a strange sense of relief, like a puzzle piece clicking into place.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Y/n,” Harry continued, his voice low, almost reverent. “But you’ve pulled me in, and I’m not sure I could let go even if I wanted to.”
Y/n took a shaky breath, her hand still resting on her neck where his teeth had pierced her skin. Her heart was racing, but not from fear. She looked at him, meeting his gaze, and finally admitted, “I feel it too. Like… there’s some kind of connection between us. I can’t explain it, but it’s there.”
Harry’s eyes softened, a flicker of relief crossing his face. “I’ve felt it from the moment I saw you,” he murmured.
She hesitated, her fingers curling into her lap as she worked up the courage to ask the question lingering in her mind. “Do you… do you drink from other people?”
Harry shook his head, his expression turning serious. “No,” he said firmly. “We have other ways to get blood. Hospitals, banks, sources that… don’t involve hurting anyone. Feeding directly from someone—it’s rare for my kind, and we don’t take it lightly.”
She studied him for a moment, her chest tightening as a strange mix of emotions swirled within her. “But you drank from me,” she said quietly.
He nodded, his gaze steady. “I did. I shouldn’t have, but… I couldn’t resist. You’re—” He stopped himself, his jaw clenching slightly before he continued. “You’re different, Y/n. I’ve never wanted someone’s blood like I wanted yours. But it’s not just that. It’s you.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she glanced away, unsure how to process his words. After a moment, she looked back at him, meeting his gaze directly. “So… you’re a vampire.”
Harry blinked, and then a low laugh rumbled from his chest. He leaned back slightly, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “That’s such a dramatic word,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “But yes, I suppose that’s what you’d call it.”
Y/n arched an eyebrow, her nervousness fading slightly as his humor eased the tension in the room. “I mean, it is what you are, isn’t it?”
He chuckled again, shaking his head. “It just sounds… cheesy, doesn’t it? Like I’m straight out of some old gothic novel.”
“Well,” she said, a small smile tugging at her lips, “you did just bite me and drink my blood, so… maybe the label fits.”
Harry grinned, his fangs briefly flashing in the light, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh softly. 
Y/n shifted on the couch, her curiosity burning brighter than ever. She tucked her legs beneath her, leaning forward slightly. “I have so many questions,” she admitted, her voice trembling just a little, but more with excitement than fear.
Harry smirked, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he watched her. “Then ask,” he said smoothly. “I’ll answer—within reason.”
She narrowed her eyes at him playfully. “Within reason? That sounds suspicious.”
His smirk grew, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “There are some things you might not be ready to hear yet, love. But I’ll do my best.”
Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled despite herself. “Fine. First question: how old are you? Like, really?”
Harry laughed, the sound deep and rich. “Straight to the point, I see. I’m… older than I look. A little over a century.”
Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but lean back in disbelief. “A century? You’re over a hundred years old?”
“Give or take a decade,” he said, his tone light. “Though I stopped counting after the first fifty or so.”
Y/n shook her head, trying to process that. “Okay, next question: can you go out in the sun, or is that a no-go?”
Harry chuckled. “I can, but I don’t recommend it. It’s uncomfortable—think of it like a really bad sunburn that happens almost instantly. That’s why you usually won’t find me out during the day unless I absolutely have to be.”
She nodded, her mind buzzing with possibilities. “Do you sleep in a coffin?”
That earned her a full laugh, Harry throwing his head back slightly. “No, I don’t. I have a perfectly comfortable bed, thank you very much.”
Y/n grinned. “Alright, what about garlic? Crosses? Holy water?”
He rolled his eyes playfully. “Garlic’s just food. Crosses don’t bother me unless someone shoves one in my face, which is just rude. And holy water? Let’s just say it’s not my favorite thing, but it’s not going to make me burst into flames either.”
She laughed, relaxing a little more as she listened to him. “Okay, serious question now,” she said, her tone softening. “Is it… lonely? Living so long?”
Harry’s expression grew thoughtful, the teasing edge fading from his features. “It can be,” he admitted quietly. “You watch people come and go. You lose people. It’s part of the deal, but it doesn’t make it easier.”
Y/n felt a pang of sympathy in her chest. “That sounds… hard.”
“It is,” he said simply. “But then, sometimes you meet someone who makes it worth it.”
Her breath caught at the way he looked at her as he said it, his gaze steady and warm. She quickly diverted her attention to her next question, her cheeks flushing. “Alright, last one—for now. Why me?”
Harry smiled softly, leaning closer. “I wish I knew,” he said, his voice low, almost reverent. “But whatever it is, Y/n, I’m not sure I want to question it.”
Y/n hesitated before asking her next question, her voice barely above a whisper. “Would you ever… turn someone? So you could stay with them?”
Harry’s expression softened, his gaze dropping to his hands as he thought about her words. The air in the room grew heavy with the weight of the question, and Y/n could see the conflict flickering in his eyes.
He finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate. “It’s not a decision I’d take lightly,” he admitted. “Turning someone… it’s not as simple as just giving them eternal life. It changes everything—your body, your mind, your world. There’s no going back.”
Y/n watched him carefully, her heart thudding as she tried to read his expression. “But if it meant being with someone you loved… forever?”
Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he met her gaze. “I’ve thought about it,” he said honestly, his tone raw. “And I won’t lie—it’s tempting. But it’s also selfish.”
“How is it selfish?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
He sighed, running a hand through his curls. “Because it’s not my life I’d be changing. It’s theirs. I’d be asking them to give up so much—the sun, the ability to grow old, to live a normal life. It’s a lot to ask of someone, and it’s not something I could do lightly. Especially to someone I care about.”
Y/n felt a lump form in her throat at the sincerity in his voice. “So… you wouldn’t do it?”
Harry looked at her for a long moment, his green eyes piercing. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I’d want to say no. To let the person I love live their life the way they were meant to. But if I knew I was going to lose them…” He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to let go.”
Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, and she reached out, placing a hand over his. “Harry,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside her, “I think you’re stronger than you realize.”
He gave her a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “But with you… I think I’d have to be.”
Y/n’s hand lingered on his, her touch grounding him. She looked at him, her eyes soft but filled with determination. “I want to see you again, Harry.”
His jaw tensed, and he glanced away, as though wrestling with his thoughts. “Y/n,” he started, his voice low and measured, “this… this might not be a good idea. For you.”
She frowned, tilting her head. “Why not?”
He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the couch and running a hand through his hair. “Because the more time you spend with me, the harder it’ll be for both of us to walk away. And you might have to one day. For your own good.”
Y/n’s chest tightened, but she shook her head, her voice unwavering. “I don’t want to walk away. I don’t care how complicated this is—I want to see you. I feel… connected to you, Harry. I can’t just ignore that.”
His green eyes met hers, a flicker of something raw and unguarded passing through them. “You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said softly, almost sadly. “Being close to me… it’s not safe. It’s not normal.”
“I don’t want safe or normal,” she replied firmly. “I want you. Whatever that looks like.”
Harry closed his eyes briefly, as though trying to steady himself, before opening them again. “You’re making this harder than it already is,” he murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension in his voice.
Y/n leaned closer, her hand still on his. “Then stop fighting it. You want to see me again too, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer immediately, but the way his gaze softened told her everything she needed to know. Finally, he nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes. I do.”
Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile. “Then let’s not overthink it. Just… let’s see where this goes.”
Harry’s expression remained conflicted, but he couldn’t deny the pull he felt toward her. “Alright,” he said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm. “But we take it one step at a time. No promises, no expectations.”
Y/n nodded, her smile widening slightly. “One step at a time,” she echoed.
Y/n’s heart was racing, but she didn’t hesitate. Slowly, she leaned forward, her eyes locked on his. Harry’s breath hitched, his conflicted expression softening as she closed the distance between them.
Her lips met his, soft and tentative at first, but the electricity between them was undeniable. Harry responded almost immediately, his hand coming up to cup her cheek as he deepened the kiss. There was a gentleness in the way he touched her, as though he was afraid she might break, but there was also an intensity—an unspoken longing that neither of them could deny.
The kiss was slow but full of meaning, every moment stretching as though time itself had paused for them. When they finally pulled back, Y/n’s cheeks were flushed, her breathing unsteady.
Harry’s green eyes searched hers, a mix of wonder and restraint in his gaze. “You’re going to ruin me,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
She smiled softly, her fingers brushing against his. “Maybe,” she whispered, “but you’re worth it.”
For a moment, Harry looked like he might protest, but instead, he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re making it impossible for me to stay away,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.
“Good,” she said with a small smile, her confidence growing. “Because I don’t want you to.” 
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pendwelling · 3 days ago
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TWSB SIDE STORIES COVER IS OUT!!!!!
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The TWSB side stories, "외전: 후월담", are officially coming out on January 1st at 9PM (South Korean time)!!! It'll be released on all its official platforms (such as MUNPIA and RIDIBOOKS)
Currently, there are multiple events for TWSB happening on Ridibooks (which is my personal preference on where to read it, since it's easier to use), including the first 200 chapters being free to read, as well as the return of the daily ticket unlock! More details can be found on the event page!
Anyhow, look at my kids...... OUSGHSHHHHHH HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE 🥹🥹🥹🫶🫂💕🔥🌷🌊
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One thing I particularly love is that Yeseo is wearing the deep and vivid purple which only the Pope can use, while simultaneously wearing very distinctly Riesterian clothing. Both Yeseo and friends were very firm in him not belonging to the Vatican/Neutral Zone, and despite the tradition of the Pope candidates requiring to renounce their nationality and reside in the Neutral Zone, Riester—but Cédric and Aurélie ESPECIALLY—makes it very clear that Yeseo is, above all else, a citizen of the Riester Empire.
Cloaked in the colours of the Pope he might be, but the Riesterian clothing he wears is very indicative of where his allegiances and heart lay. Riester is his second home and where he belongs!!!!! He might be Pope, but nothing will take precedent over the bonds he made that tie him to Riester 🥹 Not to mention the fact that Cédric is already proposing to make Yeseo a new palace/villa near the portal to his home in South Korea, 1) so that Yese wouldn't have to reside in the traditional Pope's residence which is the Temple of Borders where Yeseo and friends have many unpleasant and tragic memories, and 2) so that........ Cédric..... this guy...... can pull a Romero Riester and have a portal installed in the basement of Romero Palace that leads directly to Yeseo's home near the border. (He's really just like his great-grandfather....... Riester Imperial men are such simps LMAO)
Yeseo can directly and immediately travel between the Riester Palace, his new Neutral Zone residence (sponsored by Cédric himself) and the portal that leads to the Jung Family home. All without having to waste any time, and all that would allow for Yeseo and friends to meet each other very very easily, and even for them to pick Yeseo up from his world when done with weekday work at the office 🥹 IT'S SO TOUCHING IDK OUGGJVDGHHH
Cédric and Ga-in are both wearing clothing borrowed from the Jung siblings, too, haha—most definitely Hyunseo(previously, Cédric has had trouble wearing Yeseo's shirt)(TO SMALL) and Eunseo respectively! I kinda love that ChriCed are wearing modern clothes while Yeseo is wearing Riesterian clothing, because in a way it truly symbolizes how both Korean and Riester have now both become Yeseo's homes, and where Yeseo's homes are, ChriCed will also be there, or welcomed there......
I genuinely have no clue what to expect from the side stories, but I have some potential ideas:
More elaboration on the link between QPB and Choi Seonah (Jung siblings' mom)
CYC adventures in modern-day South Korea!!!
Cédric finally proposing to Yeseo and Yeseo not immediately dying or rejecting Cédric......... (LMAO third time's the charm Cédric I believe in you 😭😭) and by extension, CYC officially becoming Religious and Political partners!!!
Cerise and Lynn?? 👀 perhaps as adults, or we get to see them growing up. But I think it would be massively interesting if we get their future selves interacting with present-time CYC (I imagine this would happen in some way with the help of the sword of Durandal which had the ability to cut through time and space!!!!!) I wanna see the grown-up kids interact with the younger versions of their parents "older siblings".... 🥹
SPEAKING OF TIME TRAVEL........ PERHAPS MORE CONTEXT ON WHY FUTURE!CÉDRIC AND GA-IN WERE THE WAY THEY WERE WHEN CYC VISITED THEM 20 YEARS IN THE FUTURE (CH640)!!!!
SO MANY POSSIBILITIES...........
Anyhow that's enough yapping. HAPPY NEW YEAR AGAIN AND LET'S ANTICIPATE THE SIDE STORIES TOGETHER!!!! 🥹🥹🙌
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starrihan · 2 days ago
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Suck On It - (Taesan Fic)
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-> Pairing: Han Taesan x gender neutral! Reader
-> Plot: where a lazy weekend spent on the couch leads to you sucking off your best friend because of a ring pop
-> Genre: smut, food play, indirect cum eating, sub tendencies! Taesan, he gets a little harsh towards the end, oral (m receiving), neck kissing/ sucking
-> Warnings: mentions of food
-> Word Count: 2,111
-> Notes: woke up and wrote this in 2 hours. Happy new years! This was so fun to write so I hope you guys enjoy it as well! Have a wonderful day~
༄ ༄ ༄
You find yourself sprawled out on the couch of your apartment of which you shared with your best friend and roommate, Dongmin. You lazily scroll on your phone, the weekend not providing any entertainment to you. The only thing you could say that was bringing you any sort of joy, was the sweet treat you had sitting on your index finger– a blue raspberry ring pop. You sigh as you bring the confection to your mouth, lips wrapping around it and sucking on it lightly.
“You’re not sucking dick why do you look so into that ring pop?”
His grating voice is irritating to your ears. While he is your best friend, you always rolled your eyes at his stupid and middle-school-esque comments. 
“It’s not your dick so why do you care so much, Dongmin?”
You ask with the same amount of grit in your voice as he did. You suck and release the sweet with a loud ‘pop,’ laughing at the disgusted expression his face is displaying. 
“First of all, get a room. Second of all, I asked you to call me by Taesan!”
He stomps his feet like a child, huffing as he walks over to where you’re laying on the couch. He rudely throws your legs out of the way, plopping himself down on the new free seat he’s created for himself.
“Rude,” you huff as you fix yourself, sitting up on the couch and putting your phone on the table. You proceed to lick and suck on the ring pop before answering him.
“And I’m not calling you Taesan. I’m used to calling you by your real name.”
“But that’s my stage name for the band! I need to get used to people calling me by Taesan and it starts with you.”
“Please, like you’re gonna make it out of this college band and have millions of fangirls screaming ‘Taesan!’”
“That is, in fact, what will happen if you start calling me by Taesan.”
The bickering and childish antics was very on brand for the two of you. Of course you were best friends and you loved each other, but not a single day could go by without the two of you pulling each other’s tails. 
“Whatever, ‘Taesan,” you say in a dramatically mocking tone, “Now go away, you’re disrupting my peace and quiet.”
“Gimmie a lick.”
“What?” 
You deadpan, almost taken aback at the audacity of his question.
“Of your ring pop. Gimmie a lick I wanna try that flavor.”
“No? Get your own?”
He leans in, trying to get a lick but you move your hand back. His head almost falls into your chest, but he doesn’t let that stop him from trying again, reaching above you as you raised your hand over your head.
“Dongmin, stop!”
“Only if you call me Taesan!”
He laughs, grabbing your wrist and trying to pull it down to his mouth. You refuse, fighting him as you try to stretch higher, using your body to push him off. You find yourselves at this for about a minute, until he has you awkwardly pinned diagonally against the couch, smirking as you finally give up and let him grab your hand with the ring pop secured onto it. He grabs your hand gently, folding his fingers over yours as he brings it to his lips, sucking on the juicy, sweet crystal as you sigh in defeat. He looks into your eyes as he sucks the candy, the air shifting a bit from its previously playful state to one that's more suffocating and hot.
“You said you wanted to lick it, not suck the life out of it,”
You retort, gently dialing your hand back and out of his mouth, careful not to knock his teeth on the hard candy, cheeks heating up at the sight of Taesan, almost lewdly, popping his lips off of the candy. You look away from him and you can hear him smirk. 
“My bad, it just tastes so good. The blue raspberry tastes good with your strawberry lip balm on it.”
You whip your head towards him at his comment. Taesan has always been a little flirty with you, but that's all it ever was. So you weren’t expecting the comment that came out of his mouth to be as bold as this one. 
“Freak,”
You say, examining the ring pop that now has his saliva covering it. But you were never one to back down from a challenge. You look into his eyes as you bring the ring pop to your mouth, slowly licking up the height of it before pushing it past your lips, exaggerating the sucking noises while maintaining eye contact. 
His smirk falters as he gulps, a small tent in his pants forming at your sultry actions. 
“Y/N…”
“What's wrong, Taesan? You got what you wanted…”
The use of his stage name gets to him, his mind becoming foggy with thoughts of the name spilling from your mouth as he pounds into you over and over again. It’s almost as if you could tell the thoughts that were racing in his mind as you bring the ring pop back up to his lips, pushing it slightly against them to get him to open up again. He knew the game you were playing. He also knew that there was no going back from this if he decided to open his mouth. But the Dongmin you knew never played it safe.
He opens his lips as he takes the treat into his mouth, sucking on it as you take your other hand and rake it through his hair, playing with it. You couldn’t deny your attraction towards him. He was seriously good-looking, but that's all it was– physical attraction.
He takes the chance to run his hands up and down your body, releasing the ring pop from his lips and sitting up straight, peering his eyes into yours. You sit back up as well, not breaking eye contact as your mouth moves before your brain even has the chance to register the words coming out. 
“I wanna do to you what I was doing to this ring pop.”
If he wasn't already hard enough, he was now as he stood up, eyes glimmering with need as you sat directly in front of him, hard-on straining against his sweats. You look up at him, bringing your face closer to his clothed boner, feeling him through it with your lips.
“I should’ve known you were gonna be a tease,”
He winces at the contact, gently streaming his fingers through your hair. You pull his pants and boxers down, letting his dick spring out into the open air as you watch it, mesmerized by its build. Taesan was tall and lean so you didn’t expect him to be packing as much as he did. But your shy staring has him blushing and looking away from your figure.
“If you’re gonna be staring can you at least do something? This is embarrassing…”
You giggle as you suck the ring pop again, collecting its flavor and letting it coat the inside of your mouth before bringing it close to his dick.
“I should’ve known you were gonna be impatient,”
You jest, bringing your lips just to the tip and sucking on it ever so lightly. He feels himself jolt at your tongue flattening at the base of his cock. You smirk against it, knowing that you’ve found his sensitive spot. You continue your movements, dragging your tongue along the length of his dick, starting from the base to the tip. He lets out a long groan as his gentle streaming of your hair turns into a harsh grip. 
You alternate, sucking the ring pop for flavor before going back to his hard length, taking as much as you can into your mouth and jerking the rest. His whimpers and broken moans go straight to your core, feeling yourself get slick with need. 
“I'm close…”
He draws out as he lets himself fully relax in your mouth. You have an idea, taking him out of your mouth and sucking on the ring pop again, smirking as he complains. Your lips have been stained blue from the sugary treat and you push his length up towards his stomach, bringing your lips to his balls. You lick and nip at them, before pulling away with a victorious smirk.
“Guess you could say I gave you blue balls.”
He rolls his eyes at your laugh that has you gripping your stomach. You’re about to speak again before feeling a sharp pain in the back of your head, his grip on your hair tighter than ever as he brings your face back to his throbbing length.
“You’ve had your fun now give me mine,”
His submissive behavior up until now was all you had expected from him, but the change in his demeanor shocked you, and ultimately resulted in you rubbing your thighs together.  You shut your eyes as you wince, taking his whole length into your mouth. He moves your head back and forth, bringing you impossibly close to his pelvis as your nose brushes against the faint happy trail down his stomach. Your chokes and gags only fuel him further, now holding your head in place as he thrusts his hips into your mouth. You grip his hips, fingers digging into them as tears brim your eyes, threatening to spill out at his harsh movements and your lack of airflow.
“Fuck Y/N I feel so good around your mouth. Just a little more and I'll have my seed spilling down your throat and you’d better take all of it.”
His filthy words have you more motivated than ever, determined to take it until he cums down your throat. You try to calm yourself down, breathing through your nose as sweat drips down your forehead. You open up your eyes to look up at him once again to find him already looking down at you, silently pleading to let him cum. You take the chance to hollow your cheeks, tightening the grip your mouth had around him and using your tongue to lick where you can. The combined actions are too much for Taesan, roughly thrusting into your throat one last time before stilling his hips, letting his seed coat the back of your throat deliciously.  
He pulls your head back softly, your jaw falling slack as your try your best to relax the bones before closing your mouth. 
“I’m sorry if I got a little harsh there… I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He grabs you a bottle of water and opens it for you, bringing it up to your lips. You snatch the bottle out of his hand and drink it yourself. 
“I don’t need you to help me drink water. I sucked your dick I’m not incapable. Plus, I liked how rough you were being. I was starting to think I would have to be the dominant one.”
“Sorry for wanting to help you out after I almost broke your jaw.” 
He rolls his eyes but he notices your thighs pressing together, rubbing to create a little bit of friction to help you get the edge off a bit. 
“I can tell you liked it rough. Your thighs haven’t stopped moving since we started.”
His smirk irks you but you can’t help but notice how desperate you’re getting at this point. You’re still sucking on the delectable treat, saliva mixed with his cum adorning the now defiled candy. He takes the chance to slip the ring pop off of your finger and brings it to your neck, smearing the it’s content in a circle before attaching his lips to the stained area. You moan as his tongue licks the spot on your neck, thick lips sucking a little mark onto it. 
“T-Taesan…” 
“Keep calling me that name and I’ll have you screaming it by the end of the day.” 
He slips your shirt off of your body, bringing the treat down your chest and circling your nipples, continuing his previous actions of licking and sucking the affected areas. He takes the candy into his mouth, tasting himself on it and lets out a light moan. He takes it out to see that there’s not much left of it. 
“I bet I can make you come with my mouth before you finish the rest of this.” 
He says as he puts the candy in front of you and you willingly open your mouth as he slides the ring in. He kissed a trail down to the waistband of your pants before slowly pulling them off. 
“I hope you’re ready.” 
༄ ༄ ༄
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kurishiri · 19 hours ago
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Epilogue ┊ Wrapped in a Wicked Romance —Darius Vogel—
꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to narrative flow or characterization purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but please don’t repost these or claim these as your own!
— cw: this one’s for all you yandere girlies out there 👀
—— Sewer ——
The sunlight from above penetrated through the waterway’s narrow gap, with nothing but Darius’ silhouette clearly reflected.
Darius: Stay as my lover until the day ends.
At the end of this day I spent with Darius ‘as a lover,’ I was trapped in his arms.
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Darius: I was thinking of having you show me around the city before calling it a day, but nope, I’ll have you stay with me ‘as a lover’ until the next day comes around.
D: As punishment for getting my clothes dirtied.
Then, the sun hidden by something, the vicinity suddenly became dark.
In turn, a shadow fell upon Darius’ face before me, and the last thing reflected in my eyes were his which sweetly wavered, approaching me——
(Ah... is he going to kiss me...?)
I thought of avoiding it, and as though being deceived by an evil spell, I closed my eyes on a reflex.
Darius: A fool you are.
Kate: Huh? Ah——
His voice brushing against me in passing, I slowly opened my eyes...
Darius: You believe others waaay too easily. In fact, so much so, no other human I’ve seen could hold a torch to you.
His face, which had been right before my eyes, withdrew then and there, and Darius went back the way he came.
Darius: Why oh why are you in Crown indeed...
That said, I couldn’t pick up the words he murmured very well.
And so that I wouldn’t be left behind, I chased after his back.
—— Bridge (evening) ——
Returning to the heart of the city, the shadow of the evening moon emerged in the reddish-brown sky.
The evening sunlight reflected the surface of the River Thames, causing it to sparkle.
Kate: Such a pretty view...
Darius: And that very water flowing here is the same dirty water from before.
Kate: Sure, but that doesn’t change the fact the scenery here is quite pretty.
Darius: Well, I guess so. If you look from afar, there really isn’t much difference between what’s pretty and what’s dirty.
I leaned against the bridge, and Darius followed after.
And then, I suddenly looked down at that hand.
At some point, he had put on the gloves, still dirtied.
(Just by touching others, he can see a person’s biggest misfortune.)
(Being able to see others’ most unfortunate future... that’s...)
All of a sudden, I couldn’t help but think about how he lived with that all this time.
(Darius’ heart...)
As I looked on at him, Darius’ hands came toward me, pinching my cheeks.
Kate: Uh?
Darius: You looked like you wanted to be touched. ...Ah, and don’t worry, I’m using the clean part of my gloves.
Kate: That’s... uu...
I couldn’t form more words, as a faint warmth grazed my lips.
I couldn’t stop my face from burning up at the sensation of his fingers touching the soft part.
Darius: You’re so red... humans really are foolish, aren’t they.
D: Or wait. I think it’s just you are the one who’s foolish in this case.
D: You’re simple, driven by emotions, make merry at the drop of a hat, and love things that feel good...
I knew that I was being made fun of.
Kate: I’m aware of that myself...
K: But touching me just to find those ‘foolish’ traits of mine wasn’t exactly in the best of taste from you, either, Darius.
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Darius: Really? And here I was thinking since we were ‘lovers’ that I’d do something a lover would do and whatnot.
D: That’s all there is to it on my end.
The evening in the foreground, a beautiful smile formed on Darius’ face.
(Not that I know Darius that well,)
(but I think, probably, he is lacking something as a person.)
That said, I couldn’t say for sure whether that was a byproduct of him being Cursed or not.
Kate: If you constantly do things to test others, nobody will stay by your side, you know.
Darius: That’s fine by me.
Kate: And what if said person comes to like you?
Darius: I don’t really mind. It’s not like I ever wanted to be loved before anyhow,
D: seeing as I don’t believe in love and whatnot.
Those words that came out so naturally didn’t hold a drop of warmth.
Kate: I don’t think there exists anyone who doesn’t want to be loved.
K: Humans can’t live out their lives alone.
Darius: If you’re going that far, then you go and prove it. That is, if that thing called ‘love’ and whatever is really in this world.
(‘Prove it’...)
I thought about how to prove it, but nothing came to mind at the moment.
Darius: Oops, cat’s got your tongue? You can take your time to think, as I’ll give you until the time we return back.
Kate: Alright then. But, um, would you mind if I asked one thing?
Darius: Yes?
Kate: If I am able to prove it, what would you do then?
Darius: Were you hoping for some reward for proving it?
Kate: No, it’s not that. It’s just a simple curiosity of mine,
K: what you would do were you to know of ‘love.’
Darius: Were I to know of love... and if I——want to be loved, huh. I sure wonder.
D: I’ve never thought of myself that way before. Hehe, now that’s an interesting thought experiment for sure.
Darius lowered his plume-like eyelashes before once again opening his eyes and said...
Darius: First, I’d have you take responsibility for it.
D: You see, the responsibility of making me think ‘I want to be loved’ is a far cry from a light one.
D: Having you by my side forever is a given, of course, and I’d make it so you wouldn’t dream of being able to live, body and heart, without me. And finally——
We were so close I could feel his breath, and the beautiful smile he wore came closer.
Darius: I would want to make you into a Cursed one.
(Wha——)
That sweet, bewitching voice that snuck its way into my ear, at that moment, went through my body like a poison.
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Darius: ——Well, that’s all if such a day ever came.
(I’m sure...)
This poison was lethal.
It was one that encroached upon the depths of my heart, and listening to that sweet voice that seemed to paint over me, such was my premonition.
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masterlist 🪽 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍
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your-werewolf-boyfriend · 1 hour ago
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Listen to me
Listen very closely
The above is exactly why half of my friends come to me, and cry they're suffering, and I get to bestow my job hunting knowledge on them. I love this shit, it's a game.
For credentials my fastest job hunting time has been 1 week. I searched for 1 week, got an interview, and was hired within a week. My slowest was 1 month, while out of work, while telling ALL my interviewers that I quit my work without notice (I was testing my interviewers to see how shocked they'd get when I'd tell them why, anyone who wasn't shocked I would tell them at the end that I will keep them in mind (not)). My entire average is 2-3 weeks.
Firstly, what you're gunna do is pick a job sector. You're gunna pick a few of these by the end, but for now pick one. Maybe you wanna do bookkeeping, maybe you wanna do something in doggy daycare. Maybe you're a sous chef. Idk! Figure out what abouts you want first. Do not apply to anything yet. You're gunna look at the job description, I've picked out a few for bookkeepers below.
Now what you're gunna do is you're gunna look for "buzz words", or rather words that are gunna appear commonly and indicate the tone for that job. I've highlighted some, but not all in my examples below
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Just look at that snout at how similar those descriptions are!
Now that you've got your buzzwords, you're gunna slap those babies into your resume! You see, since your resume is usually read by a computer first, you're gunna trick the computer into giving it to a person. Really what the computer is scanning for is how similar your resume is to the job description. Remember your bullet points, and to keep it short, try to only have 3 to 5 bullet points per job:
- Processed over 500 invoices a day in an efficient and accurate manner
- Curated reports for management review by utilizing available data
- Monitored and recorded over 100 submissions each day increasing accuracy by 50%
These are some great, made up examples I pulled from those buzz words. You might notice I added some numbers into there. That's something you'll wanna try and note for yourself, how much of something you can do, how accurate, how much efficiency you increased, these look GREAT when your resume gets past the computer and is moved in front of a real person.
Now you have your sector-based resume with lots of buzzwords. This is great! Now for the easy part. You're gunna channel your inner "IDGAF" And you're gunna send that to every listing you like on indeed. Filter for "Apply on Indeed" and spam that shit. Sometimes you gotta answer a few extra questions, but if they give me more than 5 quick questions I trash the submission and move on.
Don't waste your time jumping through hoops, streamline it for yourself and use the same methods companies are using. Push MASSIVE amounts of average quality resumes out. The more opportunities taken = the greater the chance of success. For every opportunity taken you've now pitched a chance of success, for every resume you cannot submit because you're piddling around on their stupid website or answering 50 interview questions online, you send out a 0% chance of success.
So go, try this, and see how it works for you.
Some additional things to consider:
- Add random shit in your resume, I added my "Board Game Club" (BDSM group) into my resume for hobbies and discussed how I got my start using sparklines there
- Never underestimate the flair of a little Clipart fleur-de-lis or something on your resume. Never put colored Clipart, but a little floral or swirl design located somewhere nice makes it stand out
- if you don't have a degree that doesn't mean they won't pick you, twice now I've come to a job without a bachelors and being honest that I was only getting an associates before I think of my next steps
- Embellish, do not lie. Jargoning your job description to make it sound cool and professional is GREAT. Do not give me a resume saying you can use CNC machinery when you've only used a 3D printer. Just tell me you know how to program and manage a 3d printer and want to learn CNC machinery.
- Keep. Your. Resume. To. Two. Or. Less. Pages. You don't need EVERY job, only the relevant ones, if your interviewer asks about the gap, tell them what job you had during that time (or if you wanna lie say you were taking college courses and were on a break, you dont need a degree to say you took courses) and that you only wanted to showcase the most relevant ones
- I'm serious on that last one I'll eat your fucking resume
Hey kid you want a job?
Great get online and go to a job board. Indeed, Linkedin whatever. Now you're gonna search for a role that's in your city, fits your qualifications, and doesn't seem like a bad time.
See that easy apply button? Don't hit it they just throw those in the trash. Now you're gonna want to go to the company's website and check their careers page.
Oh? That job doesn't exist anymore. Cool go back to the job board and find another one.
Great you found another job, you're on the company's career page and the job exists!! So you're going to need to make an account on the career page website. They're using Workday, the same site as the last job you applied for? Who cares? You need to make another account for THIS job's workday page.
Now you're going to upload your resume. That'll autopopulate about 15 boxes with everything on your resume, except formatted wrong and with tons of errors. So just go through and painstakingly check the dates on all of that and rewrite everything you already laid out in an aesthetically pleasing format on your resume.
Ok time for the cover letter, explain why this specific job and company are deeply important to you. You love their mission statement and wouldn't even laugh if their ceo was gunned down in the street. You'll really want to reiterate the things you just spent the last 20 minutes filling out on the resume section
(Remember to include language from the job description, people who work in HR are lower than dogs and they need patterns or they get confused.) Write about a page, but hey don't sound too desperate or robotic this is where they judge your character!
Maybe add your portfolio site at the end here, who knows if that helps no one has ever clicked mine haha.
Anywayyy time to hit apply! Congrats! You'll see that confirmation email come in and you should be getting the rejection letter in about 2 weeks. Unfortunately your resume didn't have the right buzzwords and the AI auto rejected you :(
Time to start again and try not to kill yourself!
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scorpioriesling · 3 days ago
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What Happens on NYE…
・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *
Pairing(s): Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Eris, Tamlin x Reader
Warning(s): none
Summary: Each of the ACOTAR males paired with reader of you were to attend a NYE celebration with any of them. <3
SR’s Note: So… HAPPY NEW YEARS EVERYONE!! I’ve been so busy getting ✨married✨ (yes, quite literally. Lol.) & then getting back into the swing of things — not to mention, becoming really sick as 2024 wraps up. (‘: Not to worry! I have the best friends, family, and hubby that have been taking the most care of me. I know I’ve been lacking, especially with the Invisible String series — so allow me to feed y’all tonight, at least a little bit!
Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)
・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* ✧・゚: *
Rhysand
“Sweetheart, what’s got you so… preoccupied?”
You sigh, turning your attention away from the drink you’d been studying to meet your husband’s gaze.
“I just… I’m just so… I don’t know, dear. Preoccupied, like you said.” You chew on your lip, the cranberry juice in your glass doing little to calm your nerves. Around you, Rhysand’s closest friends and family flit about, singing and dancing and drunkenly laughing with one another. Usually, you’d be right there with them — it’s felt like ages since you’d had a stiff drink last.
“Darling,” he coos, his hand sliding against yours as he takes your glass from you. “Whatever is there to worry for?”
Just then, a large crash sounds from the room adjacent — and your husband pulls you close to his chest out of instinct. When you lock eyes again, he chuckles.
“Why don’t we—“ he sets your glass down on the kitchen table. “… go somewhere more, private, hm?” You nod, a small smile forming on your lips as his hand wraps protectively around yours waist. He runs his fingers up and down your spine, his next words holding a smile of their own.
“Ahh, now there’s that beautiful smile I love so much.”
He walks with you to the terrace, quietly opening the doors and stepping outside with you. The cool breeze of the night feels wonderful against your skin, which only grew warmer by the minute.
“A new dress tonight, hm?”
You grab the loose fabric of the skirts, swishing it back and forth. He leans against the railing as the light of the moon reflects off of his silky black hair.
“Yes — do you like it?” He nods, scanning you up and down.
“I love it, dear. I must say, I’ve never seen you in a style like this.” He takes your hand, pulling you close to him once more. The light of the ever rising moon makes the band on his ring finger gleam.
“Well… it is New Year’s eve, after all.” You fake a confident smile. It was true — you usually went for more form-fitting gowns, or ones that at least showed off your assets… but this occasion was, well… different.
“It’s nearly midnight, you know.” Rhys points out, his gaze fixing on the moon above. You nod quietly, preparing for the clock to strike twelve.
“Anything you want to leave behind this year? To not bring into the new year with you?” He asks. You chew your lip again, not sure how to answer. You’d prepared and practiced for weeks, yet now it felt as though no amount of preparation could have helped you for this moment.
Rhys shrugs after a moment. “I, for one, would like to leave any bad vibes behind now,” he pauses, listening and chuckling as Cassian belts out a line from the newest Taylor Swift song inside. You can’t help but laugh too as he says, “… and, maybe Cassians singing.”
The lighthearted moment eases you for only a second, a mere glimpse of time before you must work to steady your mind again. You realize, going into the new year, with the husband you have — this is exactly, the right moment, and nothing would make it more perfect.
“I, have something I’d like to bring with us into the new year, rather.” You say, and Rhys looks out as fireworks burst among the stars, cheering through all of Velaris heard from where the two of you stood. As you gazed upon the side of your gorgeous husbands face, you took a deep breath and just said it.
“Rhys, I’m pregnant.”
He slowly turns to you, his joyous expression morphing into surprise as he gazes into your tear-filled eyes.
“W-what?” You don’t think you’d ever heard the High Lord of the Night Court stutter. “Did you say-“
“I’m pregnant,” you say again, more confidently. His eyes grow larger, his hands taking yours as his lips curl into a wide grin.
“You’re… oh Gods, we’re…” he laughs breathily, almost in disbelief.
“We’re having a baby, Rhys!” You beam, and he instantly swoops you into his arms, spinning you around in the light of the firework streaked sky.
“We’re having a baby!” He shouts joyously, gently setting you down to take your face in his hands and pull you into a deep kiss. When he releases you, he stares down at you in pure joy, his hands cupping your cheeks.
“My darling, you’re going to make such a wonderful mother.”
✧・゚: *✧・
Cassian
You bend in half, laughing so hard your stomach begins to tighten. Eyes squeezed shut, you try to regain your composure — but what your boyfriend said was just so. Damn. Funny.
“Cass… you’re truly a comedian,” Mor giggles from beside you, her hand resting on your shoulder. When you open your eyes again, the first thing you see is your handsome man’s face alight with a smile.
“So I’ve been told,” he chuckles, taking yet another sip of his beer. His gaze settles on you as he slides a hand around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing you on the head. “That’s how I got this one, yeah?”
Mor laughs again, and you blush as you lean into his strong frame. Strong, but a little wobbly under the influence of all the alcohol he’d consumed tonight.
“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Mor hiccups. “…to convince yourself worthy of such a gorgeous girl.” She winks, and you reach a swaying arm for her.
“Awwwh, Mor,” you say, as she stumbles a bit before standing upright. “You’re such a good friend!” There was a million better things you could’ve said, but in your intoxicated state, that’s all you could come up with.
“Oh my gosh!” The blonde squeals. “It’s starting!”
Everyone’s attention turns to the widescreen, the DJ cutting the music as the number 10 flashes on the screen.
“Alllllright, Rita’s!” He announces over the mic. “Let’s count down into this new year together tonight, shall we?”
The crowd cheers, beginning the descent from 10 as the numbers flash on the screen. Cassian pulls you closer, and you all but crane your neck to look up at him.
“Six, five, four…”
Cassians hand slides against your jaw, the other holding you to him by the small of your back.
“Three, two…”
“Gods, you are the most beautiful-“
“One, Happy New Year!”
You don’t even let the crowd get to one, or allow your boyfriend to finish that sweet sentiment before you press up into your tip-toes and smush your lips onto his. His grip tightens, almost lifting you off the floor as his mouth drunkenly devours yours. When you finally do pull away, he smiles softly at you as though it were just the two of you in the middle of the dance floor.
“I… truly am,” he whispers. “So, so lucky.”
Then, his mouth is on yours once more.
✧・゚: *✧・
Azriel
“Dare!”
Feyre takes another long swig from her glass, giggling as she sets it down in front of her.
“I dare you, Nesta,” she giggles. “To take off your bra, right now!” She cackles, as the group expresses their disbelief.
Through the protests and shocked expressions, Feyre groans over-exaggeratedly.
“Oh come on,” she whines. Nesta reaches behind her back, working to unhook the clasps.
“Yeah — it’s nothing you’ve never seen before.” She triumphantly yanks her bra free, removing it and tossing it into Cassians lap without so much as untying her gown. Cassian scoffs, feigning annoyance.
“What am I gonna do with this?” He picks it up, beginning to inspect it. Nesta chuckles, sitting up on her knees as she scans the group.
“Hehehe… my turn.” Her steely gray eyes land on you. “Hm. Y/N,” she says, and you feel your heart jump. You never liked truth or dare much anyway, especially not when your crush was involved.
“Truth? Or dare?” She raises an eyebrow.
You gulp. “Umm. Truth, please.”
She grins wickedly, subtly looking between you and Azriel as she pretends to contemplate a question for you.
“Truth, then. Hmm… alright, I’ve got one.” She leans back on her hands, watching as you fidget with yours.
“If you had to pick anyone in this group to kiss tonight, who would you pick?”
Your face heats, and you glare at her. Practically everyone knew of your interest in Azriel, everyone but himself — admitting that now would only be embarrassing.
“Oh… Gods Nesta, uhh…” The tequila from earlier swirls in your stomach, and for once, Azriel looks as though he’s interested in the game again and not the countdown celebration happening beyond the palace walls.
Your eyes meet hers, and she gives you an encouraging look.
“Go on then… name them.”
You swallow, glancing toward Azriel. Grave mistake, he was already looking at you.
Your cheeks deepen their shade of crimson.
“M-maybe… uh, Azriel.”
Nesta shakes her head slowly, that wicked grin only growing. Soft chanting from outside can be heard, the citizens of Velaris participating in the end of year countdown. They’re already at eight when members of the Inner Circle notice how near it is to midnight.
“Guys — it’s almost midnight!” Cassian says giddily, but Nesta keeps her gaze trained on you.
“Prove it.” She says lowly, and you sigh, taking your abandoned glass and throwing back the rest of what was in it.
In an instant, you’re standing, stumbling toward Azriel — your friend, your trainer. Your true love. If only he saw it that way.
“Five, four,” the friend group has engaged in the chanting as well.
Those deep hazel eyes meet yours, his rough hands reaching to help steady you as your friends brush past you for a look out the windows. He cracks a smile, his gently hands bracing against your forearms. You are close, so close — foreheads practically touching as he leans down to peer directly into your eyes.
Behind him, Nesta rises slowly, seeming rather pleased with herself.
“So,” his voice is low and gravelly. “Are you going to prove it?”
You don’t think twice before pressing your lips against his, every point of contact between the two of you sending a million fireworks through you. His lips move, eager for more — you’re happy to oblige.
Behind you, cheering and clapping and the distant sound of fireworks is all drowned out by the sensations taking over you — Azriel’s lips, his hands holding you to his chest… Gods, he smells so good—
He pulls back, breathing heavily as he grins down at you. You chuckle, unsure if the fluttering within is the bubbles from your earlier champagne or perhaps, butterflies.
“I don’t think,” he whispers. Your eyes widen.
“I don’t think you… proved it, enough. Yet.”
You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck before kissing him again, his hands sliding around your waist. Just before you loose yourself in the moment, you squint to meet Nesta’s pleased gaze.
“You’re welcome,” she mouths silently.
✧・゚: *✧・
Lucien
The cold winter air bit into your exposed arms, but you didn’t care. The night had been so cold, you were suprised to find your tears hadn’t frozen right on your face — perhaps, the constant flow kept them streaming down your cheeks instead.
You’d heard rumors of Lucien, your absolute best friend being mated to none other than Elain. Sure, she was beautiful, and kind, and quite perfect really — which was exactly the problem. Everything so right about her, only made you that much more insecure.
If you were honest, you understood why the Mother would choose her for him. Your best friend was perfectly imperfect— he was a beautiful male, that you’d known for years, but he was also selfless, kind, and one of the best people you knew. That’s what made him so special; he truly was, the greatest friend you’d ever made.
Perhaps, that’s why the rumors broke your heart so much. No, he hadn’t mentioned it to you — had he known? Surely he couldn’t have known of your feelings, you’d kept them so buried inside… how deeply you’d cared for him. Loved, him.
“Why?” You whispered, glaring at the night sky above. “Why couldn’t you just let him be with me?” Your voice broke, and you whimpered once more. Tonight was pure Hell — watching him, watching her. You couldn’t blame him, she was gorgeous… and for all your friend had gone through, you only wished for him to be truly happy.
You rested your head on your hands, leaning against the marble ledge of the balcony and crying so hard you didn’t hear the terrace door slide open.
“Y/N?”
Your sniffling seized, and you looked up to meet the horrified gaze of your best friend.
You wiped a hand across your face, looking down to not meet his eye.
“Lucien, please-“ you coughed. “Please, enjoy the party. It’s nearly midnight-“
He was to you in three long strides, sitting beside you on the marble bench and resting a gently hand on your shoulder.
“I don’t care what ever else is going on — what’s wrong, Y/N?” His voice carried so much concern, a wave of fresh tears stung your eyes.
“It’s nothing,” you lied. He rolled his eyes, gripping your shoulders and pulling you into his lap. You rested your head against his shoulder, your wet tears dripping onto his collar.
“It’s surely not nothing,” he argued, his hand running soothingly over your back. You swallowed, regaining some control before sniffing and peering up into his face.
“It’s…” you tried, your lower lip wobbling. His hand rested against your cheek, a small encouraging smile on his lips.
“You can always tell me anything,” he encourages. You sigh, looking right up into his beautiful face.
“I… I heard, about Elain. And I’m so sorry, Lucien, I shouldn’t be doing this and behaving this way, because I want you to be happy and-“
“Wait wait. Y/N what are you even saying?” He chuckles, his thumb brushing away a fallen tear. Your eyes well up with more as you feel like this may be the last moment you’ll ever have like this, with the man you love most.
“You’re… I heard, about the bond. You, and Elain.” You sniff.
He tosses his head back, his bright laughter splitting the air between you. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, watching as he refocuses on you.
“Y/N, come now,” he starts, his hands wrapping around your waist. “If Elain and I were truly mates, don’t you think I’d tell you about it?”
You shrug, glancing down at the stone. “I… I don’t know, I-“
He tuts, tilting your chin to look at him again. Inside, the partygoers begin counting — nearing midnight.
“Oh, Y/N… you really don’t see it, do you?” He shakes his head, gazing down at you. Your bottom lip wobbles as you look to him again.
“I just… I only want you to be happy, Lucien.” He smiles warmly, leaning in as the first firework bursts across the night sky.
“You’re what makes me happy, Y/N.”
He kisses you with so much love and adoration, you hadn’t ever imagined possible. Your fingers thread through his hair as you kiss him back with as much love as you can convey.
All he says when he pulls away is, “I love you, so much, Y/N.”
✧・゚: *✧・
Eris
You sigh as you bring the mug to your lips once more, hoping the caffeinated tea can keep you awake for a little while longer.
“I don’t like this one much,” Eris comments, watching as the girl onstage sings about getting pregnant. You chuckle lazily, setting the mug down and leaning against his shoulder.
“Not a Sabrina fan?” You add playfully, and he moves his arm so you can lay more comfortably against his chest.
“I suppose not,” he says, his arms resting as he lays beneath you on the couch. He yawns, the first telltale sign of his tiredness — you had to admit, it’d been a long day. Between planting new seeds in the orchard (an annual tradition), taking the kids to visit the in-laws and wrangling them into their rooms at the end of the day… yeah. You could say you were quite exhausted.
Eris’ fingers ran along your bare arms nonchalantly as he gazed at the screen, watching Dick Clark chat with Sabrina Carpenter after her NYE performance. Her dress glittered against the city lights, reminding you of the times you and Eris shared celebrating nights like these in the past.
Sighing, you tilted your head to peer up at your mate. The angle of his jaw, so strong — it complimented the angular panes of his face, so strikingly handsome in any light. He must have noticed your stare, as his fingers stilled and he looked down at you with a tired smile.
“What is it, dear?” You sighed, toying with the small bow at the top of your pajama camisole.
After a quiet beat, you replied. “I just… I’m sorry, you know.” His brow raised, his chin tilting so he could look at you more directly. “We don’t… celebrate. Like we used to.”
He chuckles, the movement shifting you as you pressed against his chest.
“Well, my dear… we do have children, you know.” You half-smiled.
“Yes, I am aware — I’m just missing the days we went out, I guess. Me in a glittering gown, just for you, and all that.” You chewed the inside of your cheek. Your husband’s hand began lightly brushing your arm once more, his expression sympathetic.
“I understand, but, there’s nothing to apologize for my love.” You looked up at him, and he gave you a small smile. “I’m grateful we had those times, yes — but I’m even more grateful now. Nights like these are wonderful; they’re everything I want and need. I’m grateful for our children, tiresome as they may be.” You share a giggle, and his hands move to thread through your hair. “But, this, right here, laying on this couch with you on New Year’s eve… I couldn’t possibly want anything else.”
You close your eyes, snuggling closer to him as he continued playing with your hair. You began to drift off, resting peacefully knowing you were going into the new year with the one person who loved you most.
Eris only moved to reach for the remote, turning down the volume as the crowd on the screen began chanting. You stirred, but he could tell you were fast asleep — gazing down at your beautiful face, his heart swelled.
He leaned down as the crowd roared, pressing a small kiss to your temple.
“Happy New Year, my love.”
✧・゚: *✧・
Tamlin
“So, are you gonna go talk to him, or what?”
You’d been eyeing the blonde all night, trying (and failing) to keep your staring to a minimum. Naturally, your friend caught on — likely when she noticed the sudden changes in demeanor as he entered the room you were in.
“W-who?” You feigned innocence. She rolled her eyes, jerking her chin to the brooding blonde by the mini bar.
“You know who,” she chuckled. “Mystery man?”
Now it was time for you to roll your eyes. “That’s what we’re calling him?”
She smirks. “Well, you haven’t gone and asked his name yet, so yeah. That’s all I’ve got for now.”
You sigh, sipping on the last few ounces of your drink.
“Come on,” she eggs on. “Go over and at least say hi?” She nudges your shoulder. You tip back your glass, swallowing the rest of what was in it. Only when you step forward does she applaud you.
“Shh!” You glare over your shoulder, but your friend only watches with amusement as you nervously make your way toward the bar.
Once you’re within arms reach, you take a deep breath, your gaze meeting the emerald green one you’d been eyeing all evening.
“Uh… h-hi.” You stammer. He raises an eyebrow, looking you up and down before opening his mouth.
“Hi.”
Your lips press into a flat line.
“Uh… what’s your name?” You ask. The butterflies in your stomach threaten to come up your throat, and you swallow hard.
“…Tamlin.”
Your eyebrows raise.
“Like, from the Spring Court?” You squeak. He huffs a laugh.
“Like, yeah.”
Your brows furrow, cheeks heating at his lack of communication skills. You fidget with your fingers, not entirely sure what to say next.
“Is there something I can-“
“Why are you here?” You cut him off. Now he raises his eyebrows, and your mouth opens and closes like a fish.
“No, no uh I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean, uhm. Why come to a, uh, party in Autumn if you’re from Spring?” You stutter.
He tips back his glass, setting it on the counter before him before turning to fully face you.
“Friend brought me.” He glances to the room next to you, where Lucien is talking to a group and laughing.
You shrug. “Me too.”
He looks at you near expressionless, leaving you so defeated that you turn to walk away. His hand catches your wrist, and your breath hitches as you whirl around to face him again.
He stares silently for a moment, before pulling you closer to him.
“You’re not here with a… a male?” He asks. You shake your head slowly, and he smirks.
“A shame. For everyone else, but hopefully not me.” Your cheeks darken as you watch his eyes rove over your face, down your neck, over the edge of your top…
“I didn’t come with one,” you choke out. “But, I’m not opposed to leaving with one.” You can’t believe you just said that out loud. He apparently finds it amusing, chuckling as he glances to the clock.
“You’re not above kissing a stranger you just met at a party where you know no one?” He asks, his palms resting on your hips as you stand between his parted knees. You hadn’t noticed how close the clock hand had gotten toward 12, quite literally so distracted by the man in front of you now.
“Are you?” You retort. He smiles, his right hand resting against your jaw.
“Absolutely not.”
✧・゚: *✧・
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bbkoolkatz · 2 days ago
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pairing: barbarian prince! Katsuki Bakugo x fem! reader
content warnings: graphic depictions of violence [physical and emotional], themes of psychological manipulation and/or gaslighting, descriptions of emotional and mental distress, mentions of blood, bruising, and injuries, intense themes of captivity and hostage situations, depictions of supernatural/horror elements [hallucinations, shapeshifting], threats of self-harm and death, mild language and cursing.
heyyyy what is up my guys! [sorry the phrase is stick in my head...] PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read the warnings pookies! remember that evil giggle from chapter 2... yeah.. this is it...
𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3 𝖕𝖙2 𝖕𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖎𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 2.2𝖐+ words!
chapter 3 pt1
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trigger warnings: emotional abuse and verbal degradation, hallucinations involving a loved one turning against you, suffocating and choking imagery, depictions of fear and hopelessness, power imbalance and threats of violence against a vulnerable reader.
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the flap of the tent rustled as ragna crawled her way inside, her movements fluid, limbs moving gracefully as she stooped through the entrance. her silhouette in the dim light of the lantern in the far end, casting a shadow, spilling across the floor like ink.
"ragna!" you choked out, relief falling from your tear blurred eyes.
she didn't smile at you like she usually does. instead, her face twitched—a grimace or a smirk...—you couldn't tell. her piercing amber eyes bore into yours, unnervingly wide as she peered down at you.
"you look so pathetic," she jibed, her voice laced with disgust; there was a hallow echo to it, like it was coming from deep within a cave...
you felt your stomach churn at her words, "w-what?" you weakly smile, trying to make sense of her words.
she crouched in front of you, brushing two long, cold fingers against your cheek, "look at you..." grimacing and tightening her grip on your face, "you are as pathetic as humans come..." shrugging at your bound state.
"you fail at every daily task my people do with ease," she began listing, "you are small... and cannot fight. you leave me to bleed to death," she laughed in contempt, raising your head to look at her, "was it really worth it all of this?" she tilted her head pitifully, "acting like clan mother? look at where you are now."
"why are you saying this to me now?" you whisper, her words sinking into your skull and tugging at your heart strings. her barb hurt more than you'd ever admit.
her mouth twitched again, into something barely over a snigger, "oh? i have always wanted to say this to you. my lady," she snorted, her voice growing sharper, almost venomous as she vented, "katsuki will finally see how weak you are now. how you drag our clan's name down."
"stop this," your voice cracked, hot tears streaming freely down your pink cheeks.
the air in the tent felt suffocating, oppressive, and your chest tightened as she kept hissing hate in your head. "why?" she mockingly pouted, "is the truth hurting you?"
"do you think he will come for you?" she prods.
"stop."
"do you think he will care about you once he sees how pathetic you are?" her grin widening as she stood up to tower above you.
"you are only a girl playing at being big and strong." she sneered, her shadow stretched as she stood impossiblely high above you, the edges flickering, warping around you like smoke.
"alright. you made your point," you sighed in defeat...
"he will forget you like you were never there."
"i said you made your point!" you scrambled forward, your bound hands making it difficult to move. screaming, "so shut it!" while frantically shaking your head around to get her out of it. but, she continued to spew her insults and your heart pounded against your ribs as she knelt in front of you again, her face inches away from yours.
her hand shot out, gripping your jaw tightly, her nails digging into the soft, pampered skin of your cheek. "he will not come for you, he will not care if you are dead, he will not fight for a wife as feeble bodied as you are..." she shoved your head back, to hit the centre post.
the words sent a shock throughout your body, your mind replaying everything she's said, like a broken record. this isn't ragna—you convinced yourself—this couldn't be... and yet the figure before you, tall and slim, with her piercing bright eyes and voice like broken glass when it falls, was unmistakably her...
"you are very wrong, dear." you giggled, "my husband will come get me." cackling like you've finally lost whatever you had of the thing called sanity.
her body convulsed slightly, as she joined in your cackling, her features started drooping like wax melting over candle fire, shifting, morphing, shaping itself to look something like... you... "keep telling yourself that," she hissed, her voice grating the inside of your ear canals. "you'll die here alone."
your vision swarmed with plaguing insects, your ears rang with the screeching of bat-like creatures and your skin started to burn as she grabbed you by the neck, preventing air from going to your lungs as her lips crashed into yours, crying and babbling—gods knows what—into your mouth.
you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the world to right itself, while her voice echoed like in your head, laughing, mocking, unrelenting.
and then, silence.
when you opened your eyes again, the tent was empty... the air still... as your chest heaved, cheeks wet with tears as you glanced around frantically, searching for any trace of her...
"ragna?" you called out, your voice trembling. but there was no response... only the faint rustle of the tent flap in the wind...
"looks like the side effects have finally kicked in," your captor chuckled, crossing his legs as he sat in the far ends of the tent. your heart sank in the pit of your stomach as your eyes darted to every corner of the dimly lit tent.
"side effects?" you swallowed the lump in your throat. she wasn't here?—her voice. her face. her touch... they were too real to dismiss as some cruel dream...
you strained against your bindings, fingers twitching with the memory of ragna's grip on your jaw. she was never like that... she would never say those things... an ache settled deep in your stomach....would she?
the silence around you was deafening, heavy and unyielding as shadows danced on the fabric walls, unnaturally as if they were alive. your breaths quickened, coming in shallow gasps as the air grew colder, prickling your skin.
the light went out with a gust of wind... and the faint sound of footsteps stalking toward you sent horrified thrills down your spine.
"who's there?" you demanded, forcing strength into your voice.
you heard heavy breathing getting closer—low, ragged, and uneven. like something struggling to draw air. it was close, too close. you pressed your back against the tent's center post, bound hands clenching, sweaty with fear.
the breathing stopped.
"she spoke the truth." it rasped, "you were always a burden." it's your voice, your voice flooding your ear canals... "to her. to him. to everyone." she deadpannd... "such a fickle thing." tauntingly laughing, and invading your personal space yet again.
she leaned in, her face—or lack thereof—just mere moments away from you. "that's not true." you breathed.
"it isss." she hissed, "you do not belong here and you never will." her unnecessary words making your brows furrow together as her shadowy fingers curl around your neck—never touching you—though the pressure was there, "why don't you do us the favor of taking your life sooner... it pains me to see myself in this state..." your head shot up, reddened eyes staring into the abyss before you.
your laughing echoed through her, "you're right..." you coughed, turning your aching neck to the man who was witnessing it all go down in dark end of the tent. "are you finished yet?"
"not quite." he smirked, bringing a gourd of, what tasted like water, to your mouth. hesitantly you let the cool liquid slip down your throat, subsiding the heat inside you.
"what is your name?"
there was a long, silent pause, before his overly smooth tone slithered his name, "...ragnar." and for a split second the firelight flickered to his face, giving you a glimpse of his features. his thin lips, hooked nose, pale skin, thick eyebrows and... amber eyes. "i have had to listen to my sister talk about our 'new clan mother' almost every time i saw her... and thanks to you, that did not happen often."
"what part do you play?"
his brows pinched together in confusion. "what?"
"in our clan. what is —how do i put this— your occupation?" you clarified yourself.
"i am a mage... i keep us out of evils way." he answered, still confused as to why you'd ask something like this.
"do you believe what you're doing to be what's best for our people?" you interrogate him.
"wh- i do not understand why that-"
"answer."
"...yes. i do believe your death is for the betterment of my people."
"i see..." you finally fiddled the ropes off your wrist. slowly, you picked yourself up off the ground and dusted the thin cotton drapings that tried it's best to clothe you, shaking the ringing in your ears off.
faint tremors and scaly roars that grew stronger with each passing moment beneath your feet, almost made your knees give out under the pressure. there was no doubt about it, something—or someone—was coming, and your heart raced with anticipation.
"i'll give you a choice, ragnar, since you're ranga's brother..." you smiled softly, "get over yourself. let go of this fantasy of killing me to 'purify your clans blood'... and i'll let you continue protecting our people like you said you do. or don't and i'll hold a public execution in the morning." you stated, clasping your hands in front of you as you awaited his response.
his face twitched at your cocky attitude, he didn't know if you were bluffing or not, "how about option number 3, i kill both you and myself. right here, right now." he laughed maniacally, grabbing your dagger from the table he was leaning over in the previous chapter.
"public execution it is." you grinned, as the deafening roar of a dragon tore through the thick atmosphere. "my husband is here."
he scurried over to where you stood, holding your arms, tightly behind your back as he pressed the blade against the supple skin of your neck. an attempt to use you as a hostage to negotiate for his life out of this mess
outside the tent, you heard the grunts and wails of men and women fighting their prince, the occasional grumble of his beast vibrating the ground.
"aren't you a mage?" you ckuckled, "c'mon, show me some magic," teasing his 'holding you hostage with a knife'.
"quiet!" he snarled, spinning in the every direction—his follower's cries and thuds of their bodies hitting the ground— came from, before he skittishly dragged you outside.
katsuki moved through the wreckage like a storm, his crimson cloak swirling around him, as his sword gleamed in the moon and firelight, shimmering against his godsly features. his fierce gaze swept the scene, locking onto you with a look that could have frozen over fire.
"get yer fukin' hands, off my wife." he growled, the grip on his sword tightening as his eyes shifted to the blue bruises on your neck. his expression darkened drastically, taking cautious steps forward.
"don't!" ragnar barked, "if you want her alive, you will not think of coming near me," he panicked and you could feel him trembling behind you, "come any closer, and she's dead!" he pressed the blade into your neck and you winced at the pain as a few drops of blood rolled down to your chest.
"hah!?" katsuki screwed his face, "yer hidin' behind her instead o' fightin' f'her? fuckin' pathetic." he scoffed as he picked up a sword from one of the rebels he defeated and threw it toward the man behind you, "grow some fuckin' balls 'n fight me."
ragnar immediately shoved you aside, scrambling to pick up the sword. as soon as he got a hand on the hilt he sprinted toward katsuki, who didn't flinch as ragnar hastily swung his blade around, slicing through the air and nothingness.
you could only watch, stunned as you crawled your way over to your dagger. with one swift kick and a wack behind his head, your husband knocked ragnar unconscious. something he's done to every single body, decorating the murky forest floors.
katsuki stood still for a moment, his chest heaving as he surveyed the carnage. then, he turned to you, his sharp features hard and unreadable as he approached.
he knelt before you, "you okay?" he asked gruffly, his voice softer than usual.
you nodded, though tears streamed down your face. you flung yourself at him, clutching at his cloak. he stiffened for a moment before sighing heavily, and wrapping his arms around you in a protective hold. "tch. yer such a pain," he muttered, but his grip didn't loosen.
"i thought i'd never see you again," you sobbed into his chest, finally letting the weight of everything crash over you.
"the fuck did you just say?" he shoved you back in shock, was he his hearing messed up? he shook his head slightly before taking a moment, looking over your small frame for injuries. "y'really think i'd let a bunch o' half-wit rebels take ya from me?" he smirked, smug with his huge self.
for a moment, the world around you faded, the chaos reduced to nothing more than a distant hum. he pulled back slightly, his calloused hand cupping your cheek as he inspected you further.
"i gotcha, i gotcha..." he comforted, his voice steady and unwavering.
your breath hitched, but before you could respond, his expression hardened. his fingers brushed against the faint bruises on your neck, and his eyes narrowed.
"the hell did they do to you?"
you hesitated, your thoughts all jumbled and fragmented. "nothing really... all he said he did was, he casted a spell of sorts on me..." you said quietly, your voice trembling. "i don't remember exactly what happened... but everything felt so real... ragna!—"
"she's alive," he interrupted, his tone sharp. "she's hurt, but she'll live."
relief washed over you, and your knees gave out as the tension finally broke. katsuki caught you with ease, his strong arms steadying you as he scooped you up.
"let's get outta here," he said, his voice softening as he carried you away from the smoldering remains of the rebel campsite, to his dragon.
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mlist!
»»————> taglist
@twoplayergaymers @ch3rryjampi3 @lxdystxrdustt @selfishgucci @sleepyfxce @depressed-waffle-time @abinformyobsessions @kodzubaby @cottagedumpling @msjaeger @condy-wants-a-cookie @who-xo @naiomiwinchester @your-mum3000 @weebperson2003 @koigeidi @lanadelgarf @misaki-kira8 @lightsinmycity @kit-katsukii @the2ndl @kalulakunundrum @eyesforbkg @httpfandxms @luvbuuny @goodiesinthecloset21 @qyuin @th1s1s3mb4r4ss1ng
86 notes · View notes
edsforehead · 3 days ago
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"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."
Why’d this make me jealous tho 🤨😂
The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.
"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.
Why do I want him to like me. Why does him holding my hand there make me feel things. I don’t have words, only feelings and notions.
"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."
"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."
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Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."
Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it."
"Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.
"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."
KsjsjsmskssiajavNslsihxjssksmw
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Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 
:)))))
“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 
Drool
“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 
:)))))))))))))
He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 
Oh he’s a piece of shit huh 😭
“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 
Fading, fading, fading.
“He tasted divine.”
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How dare he make me horny and then make me hate him!!! Sklssjshsksmsnssjznmamans I cannntttttttttttttt jssmmazbzuwkwnwnww
I don’t even know what I’m feeling rn 🫠🥵🤬😤 ksksjskslsnsushsjsnss
What a sick motherfucker I hate him I love him. I want to fuck him I want to punch him!!
you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)
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entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'
a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.
tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!
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October 31st, 1998
Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.
"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.
"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"
"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."
"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.
"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."
"Five years now, isn't it?"
"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."
Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.
Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."
"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.
"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."
"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.
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You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.
It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.
You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.
You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.
You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.
A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.
"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"
You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.
"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.
"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."
You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.
"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"
"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."
"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."
"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."
"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."
"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."
"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"
"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.
"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."
"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."
You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.
"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"
"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."
"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."
You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."
"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."
"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"
"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."
"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.
"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."
You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.
At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.
At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.
"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."
You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.
"Those rumors are true."
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The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?
You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.
With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.
You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.
Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."
You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.
When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.
You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.
Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.
Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.
"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"
"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."
"B-but--"
"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."
"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"
"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."
"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."
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You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.
"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.
You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.
"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.
Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.
His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.
"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.
His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.
His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.
"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."
You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.
"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."
"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.
He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.
"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."
Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.
"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."
You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.
"You were saying?" he asks.
"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.
"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.
A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.
With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.
"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."
There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.
He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.
Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."
You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.
You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."
Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."
Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.
The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.
"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.
When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.
"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."
Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.
He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down. 
Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery. 
“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.” 
You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:
Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.
"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.
You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.
He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.
"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.
"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.
"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."
He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."
When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."
He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."
He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.
Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.
"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."
"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."
You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.
When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"
"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.
"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.
Can finally fuck you how I wanna.
He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.
Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."
Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.
"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."
He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.
"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."
"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.
He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.
"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."
His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.
"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."
You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."
"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.
His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.
"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."
The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.
That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.
He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?
The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."
Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.
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You wake, you’re not sure how much later. 
Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 
You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere. 
“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.” 
“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?” 
He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?” 
He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.” 
“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?” 
Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?” 
You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow. 
He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on. 
You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you. 
He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch. 
“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before. 
“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears. 
Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough. 
“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 
You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him. 
“What do you mean?” 
“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.” 
“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.” 
“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.” 
He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly. 
“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.” 
“You’re disgusting,” you spit. 
“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.” 
He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death. 
“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.” 
“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily. 
“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”
You sniffle in response.
“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.” 
He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.” 
“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 
Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper. 
“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge. 
“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.” 
He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.” 
Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat. 
“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.” 
He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 
“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story. 
He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you. 
“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 
Fading, fading, fading.
“He tasted divine.”
masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi
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