#lessons it took me decades to learn

[quasi-normalcy]

You can get a lot of mileage out of acting all smug and pretending that it's obvious when someone asks you to explain something. This is why you should always assume that when someone does this, they're full of shit.

#lessons it took me decades to learn

[thenookienostradamus]

You're not obligated to forgive anybody for hurting you.

But letting them indefinitely take up space in your brain and hoard your thoughts doesn't hurt them back. It doesn't affect them at all.

It just means they've effectively trained you to perpetuate the harm they started.

#do the work #the best way to foil an abuser is to thrive outside their presence #they hurt you but they don't get to own your life #this was a lesson it took me decades to learn

[kcmuthafuckinbarbee]

Of this I am completely certain...

You were, are, and will probably forever be, the Greatest Love of my life

But since 2 things can be true at once...

I am forced to admit that you were; and always will, be my abuser as well.

#female writers #women writers #free write #writers of tumblr #writing thoughts #original writing #writerblr #writers of the world #write #just a silly little thing #love only hurts #to fucked up to play nice #twin flame #that's alright #alone may be sad and boring #but at least its easy #i do know i wont ever let my guard down like that again though #I've learned that lesson #only took me 10 years #a whole ass decade bro #what a waste #heartbroken #toxic relationship #cuz im toxic apparently #crazy runs in my blood #i guess you should blame me #after all im the one in therapy right #therapy #actually mentally ill #never again

[foone]

Sometimes gender is like learning the violin.

Yeah, my parents really wanted me to learn, I took a bunch of lessons, got kinda good, but I never really enjoyed it so I pretty much stopped when I went off to college. At this point I've not touched it in a decade and I barely remember the basics anymore.

#trans shitposting

[the-record]

kissing lessons: 3

synopsis: it was like she’d never left as you settled back into friendship, but how you wished there was more to it.

song: kissing lessons - lucy dacus

pairing: college!ellie x reader

warnings: nothing??

a/n: getting juicy now 😊😊

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

“move in with me.”

was she crazy? you couldnt just move in with her.

“im sorry?”

ellie laughed, you looked at her like she was crazy. “move in with me! ive got an apartment like 10 minutes from here.”

“ellie, respectfully, i haven’t seen you for a decade, and you think im just gonna move in with you to an apartment ive never seen? that you don’t even live in?” you stood up, arms crossed over your chest and paced. “and, even if i wanted to, im still 17, i dont turn 18 until september. i cant just move out. my mom would, like, i don’t know… she’d probably call the police.”

ellie smiled was you through out every possibility under the sun. “she’d disown me. take back my car. she pays for it, not me. and i don’t know if my job even pays enough for me to pay rent.” your threw your hands in the air and finally saw ellie’s small laugh. “what are you laughing at?”

she shrugged, pulling you back down to her bed. “i don’t even move in until the end of september. and only someone who was considering it would come up with all that in two minutes.” she sighed when you rolled your eyes at her. “you keep rolling those eyes and they’re gonna get stuck.”

“oh my god, shut up.” she watched you try to hide a smile.

ellie couldn’t help but wonder about you even as you sat in front of her. what did you love and what did you hate? what made you tick? did you remember everything she taught you in her old room? on the mattress you sat on now. how to kiss, and how to get cole or justin or whatever guy had a crush on you.

she wondered what you wanted to do in life. who you were friends with at school. if you wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss you. like old times.

your heads both turned as the street lights flicked on.

“i better get going.”

“stay for dinner.”

your voices overlapped before silence.

“okay.”

ellie smiled, getting up and holding a hand out to you. you took and she pulled you up but didn’t let go as she led you back downstairs.

god it was gonna be hard to be just friends.

“so,” joel sat down his fork and looked at you. “have you thought about college? where you wanna go? what you’d like to study.”

you nodded, copying joel and putting down your own fork. “yeah, i was planning to stay here actually. instate tuition and all that.” you took a sip of water before continuing. “i think i’d like to be a teacher? maybe. i just know i want to work with kids.”

“wouldn’t even have to learn about them, considering you are one,” ellie teased. you kicked her shin under the table. “ow, fuck.”

“ellie no cursing at the dinner table.” joel winked at you as ellie scoffed. “what’s happened since we’ve been gone?”

you sat back in your chair, thinking about everything of sustenance. “honestly nothing. it’s incredibly boring.” you gasped as you remembered. “mel got pregnant last year.”

ellie nearly spit out her food. “no way.” you nodded, picking up your fork again. “with who? what’d her parents do?”

“owen.” ellie gasped as you nodded. “who, mind you, at the time was dating abby.”

“good god.” joel stood up, taking his plate with him. “thats enough for me.” you and ellie laughed as he left.

ellie cleared her throat as you took a bite. “20 questions?” you nodded and set down your fork before getting comfortable. “favorite song?”

you hummed, “kyoto, phoebe bridgers.” ellie nodded approvingly. “favorite movie?”

“the outsiders.” you groaned and ellies jaw dropped. “excuse me? whats your favorite then?”

“practical magic, duh.” you smirked as she rolled her eyes. “you keep rolling those eyes and they’re gonna get stuck.” you echoed her comment from earlier.

“you’re so annoying.” ellie flicked a pea at you.

you threw one back, hitting her forehead. “favorite book?”

she thought for a moment before she answered. “catcher in the rye.”

“good one.” she nodded. “wanna get slushies?”

ellie bolted up with a smile, “god i thought you’d never ask.”

“i can’t believe you dont get cherry and blue raspberry.” you shouldered ellie as you walked back to your car.

ellie scoffed. “i can’t believe you do.” she pulled at the passenger door. “unlock the car.” you got in, closing your door and locking it. “angel.”

you smiled at her and turned on music, singing along between sips. ellie walked around to your window and knocked. your pretended to be shocked, turning down the radio and rolling down the window. “what can i do for you this fine evening?”

ellie leaned her arms on the car door with an innocent smile. “can i kiss you?”

“what?” your face and mind blanked long enough for ellie to unlock the door and pull it open. you barely realized before she was clambering over you to the passenger seat. “oh fuck you.”

ellie gasped, “how unladylike. you just sip your slushy and get me home safely,” she teased as she buckled her seat belt.

you fought the urge to roll your eyes as you shut your door and put the car in reverse.

how badly you wanted to have said yes.

#💋kissing lessons💋 #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fic #ellie willams the last of us #ellie williams angst #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams

[mostlysignssomeportents]

End of the line for corporate sovereignty

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me next weekend (Mar 30/31) in ANAHEIM at WONDERCON, then in Boston with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then Providence (Apr 12), and beyond!

Back in the 1950s, a new, democratically elected Iranian government nationalized foreign oil interests. The UK and the US then backed a coup, deposing the progressive government with one more hospitable to foreign corporations:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nationalization_of_the_Iranian_oil_industry

This nasty piece of geopolitical skullduggery led to the mother-of-all-blowbacks: the Anglo-American puppet regime was toppled by the Ayatollah and his cronies, who have led Iran ever since.

For the US and the UK, the lesson was clear: they needed a less kinetic way to ensure that sovereign countries around the world steered clear of policies that undermined the profits of their oil companies and other commercial giants. Thus, the "investor-state dispute settlement" (ISDS) was born.

The modern ISDS was perfected in the 1990s with the Energy Charter Treaty (ECT). The ECT was meant to foam the runway for western corporations seeking to take over ex-Soviet energy facilities, by making those new post-Glasnost governments promise to never pass laws that would undermine foreign companies' profits.

But as Nick Dearden writes for Jacobin, the western companies that pushed the east into the ECT failed to anticipate that ISDSes have their own form of blowback:

https://jacobin.com/2024/03/energy-charter-treaty-climate-change/

When the 2000s rolled around and countries like the Netherlands and Denmark started to pass rules to limit fossil fuels and promote renewables, German coal companies sued the shit out of these governments and forced them to either back off on their democratically negotiated policies, or to pay gigantic settlements to German corporations.

ISDS settlements are truly grotesque: they're not just a matter of buying out existing investments made by foreign companies and refunding them money spent on them. ISDS tribunals routinely order governments to pay foreign corporations all the profits they might have made from those investments.

For example, the UK company Rockhopper went after Italy for limiting offshore drilling in response to mass protests, and took $350m out of the Italian government. Now, Rockhopper only spent $50m on Adriatic oil exploration – the other $300m was to compensate Rockhopper for the profits it might have made if it actually got to pump oil off the Italian coast.

Governments, both left and right, grew steadily more outraged that ISDSes tied the hands of democratically elected lawmakers and subordinated their national sovereignty to corporate sovereignty. By 2023, nine EU countries were ready to pull out of the ECT.

But the ECT had another trick up its sleeve: a 20-year "sunset" clause that bound countries to go on enforcing the ECT's provisions – including ISDS rulings – for two decades after pulling out of the treaty. This prompted European governments to hit on the strategy of a simultaneous, mass withdrawal from the ECT, which would prevent companies registered in any of the ex-ECT countries from suing under the ECT.

It will not surprise you to learn that the UK did not join this pan-European coalition to wriggle out of the ECT. On the one hand, there's the Tories' commitment to markets above all else (as the Trashfuture podcast often points out, the UK government is the only neoliberal state so committed to austerity that it's actually dismantling its own police force). On the other hand, there's Rishi Sunak's planet-immolating promise to "max out North Sea oil."

But as the rest of the world transitions to renewables, different blocs in the UK – from unions to Tory MPs – are realizing that the country's membership in ECT and its fossil fuel commitment is going to make it a world leader in an increasingly irrelevant boondoggle – and so now the UK is also planning to pull out of the ECT.

As Dearden writes, the oil-loving, market-worshipping UK's departure from the ECT means that the whole idea of ISDSes is in danger. After all, some of the world's poorest countries are also fed up to the eyeballs with ISDSes and threatening to leave treaties that impose them.

One country has already pulled out: Honduras. Honduras is home to Prospera, a libertarian autonomous zone on the island of Roatan. Prospera was born after a US-backed drug kingpin named Porfirio Lobo Sosa overthrew the democratic government of Manuel Zelaya in 2009.

The Lobo Sosa regime established a system of special economic zones (known by their Spanish acronym, "ZEDEs"). Foreign investors who established a ZEDE would be exempted from Honduran law, allowing them to create "charter cities" with their own private criminal and civil code and tax system.

This was so extreme that the Honduran supreme court rejected the plan, so Lobo Sosa fired the court and replaced them with cronies who'd back his play.

A group of crypto bros capitalized on this development, using various ruses to establish a ZEDE on the island of Roatan, a largely English-speaking, Afro-Carribean island known for its marine reserve, its SCUBA diving, and its cruise ship port. This "charter city" included every bizarre idea from the long history of doomed "libertarian exit" projects, so ably recounted in Raymond Craib's excellent 2022 book Adventure Capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/14/this-way-to-the-egress/#terra-nullius

Right from the start, Prospera was ill starred. Paul Romer, the Nobel-winning economist most closely associated with the idea of charter cities, disavowed the project. Locals hated it – the tourist shops and restaurants on Roatan all may sport dusty "Bitcoin accepted here" signs, but not one of those shops takes cryptocurrency.

But the real danger to Prospera came from democracy itself. When Xiomara Castro – wife of Manuel Zelaya – was elected president in 2021, she announced an end to the ZEDE program. Prospera countered by suing Honduras under the ISDS provisions of the Central America Free Trade Agreements, seeking $10b, a third of the country's GDP.

In response, President Castro announced her country's departure from CAFTA, and the World Bank's International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes:

https://theintercept.com/2024/03/19/honduras-crypto-investors-world-bank-prospera/

An open letter by progressive economists in support of President Castro condemns ISDSes for costing latinamerican countries $30b in corporate compensation, triggered by laws protecting labor rights, vulnerable ecosystems and the climate:

https://progressive.international/wire/2024-03-18-economists-the-era-of-corporate-supremacy-in-the-international-trade-system-is-coming-to-an-end/en

As Ryan Grim writes for The Intercept, the ZEDE law is wildly unpopular with the Honduran people, and Merrick Garland called the Lobo Sosa regime that created it "a narco-state where violent drug traffickers were allowed to operate with virtual impunity":

https://theintercept.com/2024/03/19/honduras-crypto-investors-world-bank-prospera/

The world's worst people are furious and terrified about Honduras's withdrawal from its ISDS. After 60+ years of wrapping democracy in chains to protect corporate profits, the collapse of the corporate kangaroo courts that override democratic laws represents a serious threat to oligarchy.

As Dearden writes, "elsewhere in the world, ISDS cases have been brought specifically on the basis that governments have not done enough to suppress protest movements in the interests of foreign capital."

It's not just poor countries in the global south, either. When Australia passed a plain-packaging law for tobacco, Philip Morris relocated offshore in order to bring an ISDS case against the Australian government in a bid to remove impediments to tobacco sales:

https://isds.bilaterals.org/?philip-morris-vs-australia-isds

And in 2015, the WTO sanctioned the US government for its "dolphin-safe" tuna labeling, arguing that this eroded the profits of corporations that fished for tuna in ways that killed a lot of dolphins:

https://theintercept.com/2015/11/24/wto-ruling-on-dolphin-safe-tuna-labeling-illustrates-supremacy-of-trade-agreements/

In Canada, the Conservative hero Steven Harper entered into the Canada-China Foreign Investment Promotion and Protection Agreement, which banned Canada from passing laws that undermined the profits of Chinese corporations for 31 years (the rule expires in 2045):

https://www.vancouverobserver.com/news/harper-oks-potentially-unconstitutional-china-canada-fipa-deal-coming-force-october-1

Harper's successor, Justin Trudeau, went on to sign the Canada-EU Trade Agreement that Harper negotiated, including its ISDS provisions that let EU corporations override Canadian laws:

https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/trudeau-eu-parliament-schulz-ceta-1.3415689

There was a time when any challenge to ISDS was a political third rail. Back in 2015, even hinting that ISDSes should be slightly modified would send corporate thinktanks into a frenzy:

https://www.techdirt.com/2015/07/20/eu-proposes-to-reform-corporate-sovereignty-slightly-us-think-tank-goes-into-panic-mode/

But over the years, there's been a growing consensus that nations can only be sovereign if corporations aren't. It's one thing to treat corporations as "persons," but another thing altogether to elevate them above personhood and subordinate entire nations to their whims.

With the world's richest countries pulling out of ISDSes alongside the world's poorest ones, it's feeling like the end of the road for this particularly nasty form of corporate corruption.

And not a moment too soon.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/27/korporate-kangaroo-kourts/#corporate-sovereignty

Image: ChrisErbach (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:UnitedNations_GeneralAssemblyChamber.jpg

CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #isds #investor state dispute settlement #steven harper #canada #canpoli #ukpoli #honduras #prospera #roatan #Energy Charter Treaty #ect #eu #rockhopper #world bank #charter cities #cryptocurrency #libertarian exit #Xiomara Castro

[writingwithfolklore]

A Note for New Writers

                When I started this blog, one of my goals was to compile advice that I hadn’t really seen online anywhere. Stuff a little bit beyond the foundations I was already very familiar with. I took university courses and different approaches to writing combined with my own experience and lessons from the mentors and teachers around me, and began to write it all down to share with you.

                The idea was never that you would start writing your first character with Character is Plot say. However, I noticed there are a lot of new, beginner, or learning writers on here, and there’s a great value in really nailing the foundations, so here marks the start of a short series of foundational advice for you new writers (or for writers who have been around the block and may need a refresher. I know I do!)

                I see a lot of new writers in the tags looking down on yourselves or your ability. Stuff like, ‘why can’t I seem to do this’ or ‘if only I could actually follow this advice’. My posts were never meant to make you feel like you aren’t good enough. It was written with over a decade of experience behind it. It takes time to build those instincts in knowing what to do. Unfortunately you can’t just build writing skill by reading and collecting articles—they can be a guide, but they aren’t meant to instantly come naturally to you “if only you were a good writer.”

No one can automatically learn how to write just from reading some advice because writing skill isn’t about the knowing, it’s about the practicing.

                And it takes a hell of a lot of practice.

                Writing is mostly intuition—we practice certain skills to get them to a place where we can just do them without really thinking about it. It’s kind of like when you were learning to type, and you had to constantly remind yourself to put periods at the ends of your sentences. Then, over time and a million reminders, you started to just do it on instinct without really thinking about it.

                It’s muscle memory, it’s trying again and again, it’s a lot of struggling and tears and feedback and more tears and a million and one false starts and unfinished drafts and finished drafts that are really bad and lost contests and rejections. I have been through it all. I’m still going through it all. Only recently have I been published—it took me over a decade of practice to get there. Oh, and in the same month one of my pieces was published, another was rejected.

                That’s how it goes. It’s not some switch that will one day flick where you’re ‘good enough’. And the timeline isn’t so set. While I was working on building up skill, I was also working on building up confidence. In the right publications, with enough confidence, I probably could’ve been published years ago. In the right place, and if you’re brave enough to submit, you probably could too.

                It’s about who sees it, very rarely does it really depend on how ‘good’ it is (and you can tell from all the published work that can’t possibly be better than your unpublished work, right?)

                TL;DR, writing isn’t about the knowing, it’s about time, patience, and practice. If you’re reading advice and don’t feel good enough to execute on it, just take a little bit more time and get a hundred thousand more words under your belt. One day, it will just become intuition.

You will get there.

#writing #creative writing #writers #screenwriting #writing community #writing inspiration #filmmaking #books #film #writing advice #new writers #advice for new writers #a note for new writers #beginner writer

[lesbianpepsi]

you fit me better than my favourite sweater

pairing: wednesday addams x fem!reader

summary: you and Wednesday end up stranded in the middle of the lake

words: 3.954k

warnings: mentions fear of drowning, swearing, bad writing

author notes: this has been in my drafts for a fat minute and i completely forgot about it ngl

"It won't be that bad, I mean any idiot can do it." You say as you meticulously enter the canoe, gripping at the sides with a God strong as the tiny wooden boat rocked from side to side.

"Any idiot can, but you're the most idiotic person I've ever met." Wednesday grumbled as she swiftly sat across from you, entering the canoe much more gracefully than you.

You grinned as you carefully grabbed the oars from the bottom of the boat, carefully sticking them through the small holes on the side of the boat.

"At least that makes me memorable." You remarked. 

Wednesday shook her head as she leaned over to push the boat away from the small dock, the boat wobbling as it caused small ripples in the water.

You sighed as you messily began moving the oars in and out of the water, the canoe moving slowly.

"Row. Row. Row." Wednesday uttered in a deadpan tone, her eyes glued to the lake.  You rolled  your eyes as you moved the oars with all of your strength. "Could you be any more uplifting?" You mumbled sarcastically as you unconsciously gripped at the oars tighter.

There was an actual reason behind the entire situation of you and your friend-not so friend- Wednesday going canoeing at a late hour.

You couldn't swim, an embarrassing fact but unfortunately true, you simply couldn't. Whenever you had lessons as a kid you never could float and would always manage to have at least one or more near drowning incidents.

You tried for months but never got the hang of it, eventually you just accepted the fact you're not a swimmer. 

That was something Enid was afraid of. 

Ever since the Black Cats won for the first time in decades in the Poe Cup, Enid wanted to make sure they stayed champions. 

To make matters worse Yoko said she didn't want to participate this year due to getting poisoned over the entire race last year.

That's how Enid ended up asking you to which you agreed but disagreed at the same time. You would do it, but you couldn't swim. So if their boat broke, you’d be fucked.

Enid took that a 'yes with some minor technicalities' and somehow managed to convince Wednesday to take you out to canoeing. If you could canoe like a pro then that would help the team and decrease  the risk of the boat going down.

You agreed to it whereas the goth was very reluctant to go canoeing with you. Enid thought it was because Wednesday didn’t do people and would loathe having to communicate with someone if she didn’t gain anything from it.

Thinking about it, it was partially true but you know the real reason why Wednesday doesn’t want to be alone with you. 

She didn’t trust herself.

A few weeks back you and the local goth had a situationship going on; Wednesday being the one who started it and tried ending it on multiple occasions. She’d drag you into the closest, the dark corners of the library, empty classrooms, her dorm room, your dorm room and even the forest at one point to make out with you. 

Each time she claimed it was a one time kiss and she was simply trying something new, but then the very next day those slender fingers were wrapped possessively around your wrist and dragging you towards the closest empty room. 

You’ve been in love with the goth for a while which meant you greedily complied with her wishes and did whatever she wanted, like a dog to its owner. 

She wanted to make out because she didn’t do as good on a test, you’re there for her. She wanted to learn what a hickey is, you’re more than welcome to show her and guide her. She says it’s the final time, you give her the fakest smile and agree with her.

Self respect? Who was she?

It had been a week ever since yours and Wednesday last kiss and she was avoiding you like the plague. It hurt but you didn’t really expect anything else to happen. 

That’s why when Enid asked the psychic to go canoeing with you, you were more than happy whereas Wednesday was reluctant. But nobody could say no to Enid's puppy's eyes; that's how you ended up rowing slowly while Wednesday sat there comfortably watching you.

"If I did it would physically pain me." Wednesday quipped as she sat there with her incredibly straight posture, glaring at you. 

"You don't wanna be my personal cheerleader? If you were, you'd have to say 'but I'm a cheerleader' at least once." You said with a giggle, moving further into the lake as you moved one oar quicker than the other.

You knew Wednesday didn't understand the joke as she observed you. "You're not amusing nor comedic, Y/n. I'd rather talk to a brick wall and I guarantee it would still be more interesting than you." 

You barked out a laugh at her comment, not taking it to heart, it's the one thing you've learned ever since she started dragging you into every isolated room to make out with you.

"Bricks can be pricks." You joked as you rowed further and further, starting to get tired even though you had only been doing it for a few minutes. "When can we have swapsies? I've proved I can row so it's all good."

"I can swim and row like a professional, I also brought the Black Cats to victory the previous year. I do not need to row, you do." Wednesday said with her tone bordering on bragging. 

"I get it." You sigh as you keep rowing. "You've seen how good I am at it and don't wanna embarrass yourself." 

Wednesday's head snapped towards yours with a sharp look. You smirked as you looked down, your arms flexing as you rowed.

"Good? If you think that is good then you're destined to make us lose the poe cup." The ravenette barked out, this was the reaction you were expecting.

You shrugged your shoulders as you  smiled innocently at her. "It's fine, Wednesday. I get it, I'm weirdly good at some things."

Wednesday didn't say anything for a moment. Her eyes trailing your face before they moved to glance at the oars.

You heard the girl let out a small grunt before she looked back at you. "Fine. Switch positions with me."

Pride flooded you instantly as you managed to convince the stubborn girl to do something. Feeling much more confident than you had in the beginning, without thinking you abruptly stood up to allow Wednesday to sit where you were sitting at.

As you stood up Wednesday's eyes widened dramatically as her eyes gazed towards your hands, grip loosening on the oars.

As if it was slow motion Wednesday watched as the further you stood up, the weaker your grip got on the oars.

"Do not let go of the oars!" Wednesday yelled at you the very moment you stood up completely straight, your grip on the oars vanished.

Splash 

You nor Wednesday moved. Completely frozen.

You slowly eyed the space where the oars used to be, you swallowed nervously as you felt eyes on you. Averting Wednesday's gaze you slowly sat back down, the canoe drumming side to side momentarily.

"I told you specifically to not let go of the oars." Wednesday snapped in a harsh voice, breaking the silence of the night. 

You winced at her harsh tone that you couldn't blame her for. "I'm so sorry, Wednesday."

Wednesday shook her head as she looked away from you, as if disgusted by the sight of you. 

"Enid is the one who suggested it." You reminded her quickly, not wanting to face the wrath of Wednesday Addams alone in an isolated place. You’re not the brightest bulb but you still shine. 

"And you're an imbecile for agreeing with Sinclair to do this, Y/n." Wednesday hissed through gritted teeth, her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at you.

You rolled your eyes as you waved your arms dramatically. "Not my fault, Wednesday. Enid asked me a question that for the sake of my life I couldn't lie about." 

The goth shook her head aimlessly, looking away from you with a clenched jaw. "Should've lied."

"You also agreed to help so it's partially your fault too!" You defended with a smug smile, one that Wednesday did not appreciate.

"It's because of you and your tomfoolery and laziness we're stuck in the middle of the lake with no oars for the canoe!"

Yeah it was most definitely your fault. 

"Well I'm sorry Wednesday but you're gonna have to just jump into the water, grab the boat and swim us to shore." 

Wednesday's eyebrows lifted in utter disbelief. "I'm not swimming." She stated flatly.

"Wait, my phone, duh!" You said excitedly as you removed your phone from the pocket of your hoodie, smiling hopefully as you checked your phone.

Your smile faded as you noticed there was no signal. Fucking perfect, you thought bitterly to yourself . 

"No signal." You told her, shoving your phone back into your pocket with a huff. 

"Shocker, I would've never presumed that a cellular device would be useless in a situation of emergency." She snarked out, crossing her arms again in her short sleeve black t-shirt.

 "Emergency?! Oh my fuck are we gonna die? Cause I'm not having 'DIED BY SITTING IN A CANOE' on my gravestone."

The raven haired girl who looked visibly more relaxed than you glanced over towards the dock. "We'll just have to wait here until either Enid comes looking for us or someone else passes." 

Your eyes widened dramatically as you stared at her in disbelief. The plan didn't sound fun, good or reliable. 

"What if it takes hours?"

"Then we will sit here for hours." She answered, her eyes returning to meet with yours.

"Oh fun." You retorted with a roll of your eyes. "So, since it's just the two of us, is this going to turn into a childhood trauma kinda talk or gossip talk?"

Wednesday glowered at you with her iconic death stare, you sighed. I'll take that as a silent kinda talk then, you thought to yourself. 

Your eyes gazed over Wednesday's face which was turned to look at the dock, her already sharp jaw pulled into an even tighter clench. 

You managed to stay utterly silent for what felt like a full hour (but was really only five minutes) before you finally cracked, your knuckles white from the grip you still had on the plank you're sitting on.

"So, how've you been?" You asked gingerly to the goth. Wednesday didn't spare you a glance as she replied.

"I'm currently stranded in the middle of the lake with the absolute dunce of a human being." She snarled, her cold eyes meeting yours once again. 

"I'll take that as good?" You joked as you purse your lips, hoping you could make light of the pretty shitty situation. 

"You're infuriating."  

You sighed as you glared at Wednesday, you were trying to be nice and making the situation better but she was not helping it at all. "Thanks." You grumbled sarcastically. 

Yes it was a not so good situation, yes it was your fault, yes you felt bad about it. But you felt like Wednesday didn't have to dig into you that much, you wouldn't mind as much if you knew she was joking. But you knew her well enough to know she was utterly serious.

The more minutes passed the more bored you got. Wednesday was refusing to look at you whereas all you could stare at was her side profile. 

Your fear of not being able to swim started to gnaw away at the deep pit of your stomach.

"I very much doubt Enid will notice we're stranded due to the fact she's spending the night at Yoko's tonight." Wednesday suddenly announced, the feeling of fear intensifying  as you realised the odds of you sleeping on this canoe over night was growing.

"What time is it?" You asked her quickly.

She glanced at the watch on her wrist briefly before she glimpsed at you. "It's nine in the evening, and curfew is at nine." You gawked at her as the chances of you sleeping outside for the night increased significantly. "You sure you don't wanna go for a little swim?" You attempted one last night, in hopes Wednesday would agree. 

"No."

You sighed as you nodded your head weakly, you're sleeping on water tonight. 

Great.

"Alright if we're sleeping here overnight how are we doing it?"

"I will not be sleeping." Wednesday stated. "I'll stay on watch in case an individual passes." 

"All night?" You asked with your eyebrows raised. 

"Is your hearing damaged?" Wednesday replied dryly, her eyes boring into yours, you huffed as you averted her piercing eyes looking over at the sun slowly setting.

"At least it's warm, some might even say a hot summer night in mid July." You joked in a playful voice, turning your head to look at the beauty of the lake.

The sunset lightning up the dark lake with a shine that made it even more beautiful . 

"Your obsession with that woman is odd." Your head snapped back to look at Wednesday, your jaw slackened as you gazed at her with shock. 

Wednesday remembered you liked Lana Del Rey? More importantly, how did she even know it was a lyric from Lana Del Rey?

Without much thought you voiced your last question to the goth. 

"How'd you even know I was talking about Lana Del Rey?" Wednesday blinked at you as she stayed silent, her eyes glued to yours as she tried to think of an answer. "You do nothing but extol her." She said in an affirmative tone, her fingers playing with the thick steel black ring Enid gifted for her many moons ago.

You tilted your head like a curious dog as your eyes narrowed on her fingers. 

She was lying. 

You weren't Wednesday level good at reading people, but you could always notice a tell when it was presented to you.

You hummed, looking back up at Wednesday's face with a smirk. "I talk about Lana and how good she is but from my knowledge I've never actually sung her song in front of you before. Matter of fact, I don't think I've even talked specifically about the lyrics of her songs with you before, probably with Enid but never you." 

"I don't understand what you're trying to say." Wednesday questioned with threat lacing her words. “I’m just saying, how could you possibly know that line if you’ve never heard me say it before, ‘cause I know Enid is a K-Pop and Swiftie kinda girl, not a Lana one. And you’d never listen to such ‘pointless audios’ as you said, would you?” 

“Terminology with celebrities is obtuse.” She said briskly, her eyes avoiding yours the exact way she was avoiding your words. You hummed as you nodded your head, smugness infiltrating your smile. 

Silence filled the wooden canoe after that, Wednesday staying perfectly silent as she stayed perfectly still. Her main focus being the docks as she hoped someone would pass and help the two of you. 

Thirty minutes passed and there was still no sign of life other than you and the raventte. With a long sigh you reconnected your eyes with Wednesday. 

“We’re stuck here all night aren’t we?” You asked in a knowing tone.

Wednesday nodded her head curtly. “Yes we are.” You let out an exasperated breath as you ran your fingers through your hair. “Also, due to how this canoe is structured it would be impossible to lay down flat on the ground to sleep.”

You looked down at the boat as you tried figuring out any spot where you could sit down in any position and luckily you quickly found one. 

Without saying anything you carefully pushed yourself off the small seat moving to sit at the bottom of the canoe. After a few moments of repositioning yourself with the boat rocking back forth gently you managed to find a semi comfortable position. 

Your feet dangled off one edge of the boat while your neck rested on the edge of the opposite one, it wasn’t the most comfortable one but if you fell asleep your biggest worry would be a stiff neck and not drowning. 

Grinning, you turned to look at the girl whose boots were only about half a metre away from your side. “You say impossible, I say possible.” 

“I say irritating, you say humorous.” She remarked with a glare as she stared at you with her beautiful dead eyes. 

“Well I’m the one who can sleep tonight if someone doesn't come get us.” You tell her with a smile before adding. “No shame if you came down to join me.”

“I would rather live for an eternity than lay with you.” She hisses through gritted making you let out a little giggle. “Whatever you say.”

Minutes passed as you and Wednesday stayed in silence, you gazing up at the sunset making the colour shine gorgeously as Wednesday gazed at your side profile.

After what felt like a century in silence you decided to put on your Spotify playlist that you downloaded to your phone, needing something to erase the booming silence. 

Hitting on the playlist ironically the first song that played was ‘Young and Beautiful’ by Lana Del Rey; the song that had the infamous ‘hot summer nights, mid-July’. You had the DH Orchestral version downloaded.

As the song played in a low volume you heard a small rhythmic tapping from next to you. You turned your head to the side and to your surprise you noticed Wednesday was the culprit of the noise.

She was now gazing off in the sunset like you were doing earlier as her fingers moved against her thigh going along with the beats of the song. 

Wednesday listened to Lana Del Rey because of you. 

You didn't comment on it; simply admiring her with a small smile until the song finished, another random Lana Del Rey song playing soon after.

The goth must've felt eyes on her as she snapped her head back into your direction, locking eyes with you as she tilted her head slightly to the side.

She didn't say anything and neither did you. The two of you sat in silence as you gazed at each other; the two of you having a glint of love in each other's eyes, but neither of you would comment on it. 

Somehow an hour had managed to pass as the sun was almost entirely gone, only a small arch left warming you up.

“Do you think we’ll tip over if we go to sleep?” You voice up slightly nervously as you stare at the wooden canoe. “I will not be sleeping so I’ll make it won't happen.”

“Wait, you were serious about not going to sleep?” Wednesday stiffly nods her head as her posture still remains as straight as ever while sitting up. 

“I never lie.” She tells you.

You bite your tongue into not saying anything that might annoy the goth since you know damn well she lies. She’s lied to you many times when preaching your sessional kisses were only a ‘one time thing’ for each one.

You sigh as you glance up at Wednesday, nodding your head. “Okay, I'll stay up with you.”

“There is no need, Y/n. You may fall asleep if needed.” Wednesday insists with a shake of her head.

“Don't be ridiculous, Wends, I’m not letting you stay awake all night alone while we’re trapped in the middle of the lake.” You reply in a tone that indicates you're not going to debate with her about it. 

The goth sighs as she reluctantly nods her head in agreement. “Fine, whatever.” She mumbles not making eye contact with you as she twisted her body to the side slightly, her brows furrowed ever slightly telling you she's in slight pain.

You don't say anything as you lean forward and take off your hoodie before laying it flat on the bottom of the canoe as the end of your hoodie reaches the tips of Wednesday's boots. 

“If your back hurts you need to lay down for a while.” You say making her look back at you with her eyebrows even more furrowed.

“I’m an Addams, we thrive on pain.” Wednesday answered as if that explained anything. You rolled your eyes as you tapped at your thigh meekly. 

���Okay, fine you love pain and shit. But if it gets too much you're more than welcome to lay down, I wouldn't shame you or tell anyone.” You reply with a soft smile as Wednesday scoffed at your words, not verbally replying.

You didn't say anything as you looked away, glancing over at the dark lake as the sun had officially set. The only light being gifted being the pale moonlight; glistening the water just as softly as the sun did.

Five minutes passed before you heard small shuffling from Wednesday’s side of the small boat, you didn't look over at her as you gazed off into the water.

Wordlessly, you can hear Wednesday slowly move to the bottom of the canoe as she quietly moves up closer to you, laying her head on your lap as she laid straight on her back. 

Your hoodie under her body definitely made it more comfortable for her, something that filled you with pride. 

You look down at Wednesday to see her already looking up at you, her eyes seeming softer as they glinted from the moonlight.

“You’re so pretty.” You whisper out to her moving to lay an arm over her stomach to try to give her as much body warmth as you could. 

Wednesday blinked for the first time as she never broke contact with you, stiffly moving to lay a hand over the one you had on her stomach.

“You're pulchritudinous, Y/n. Not only on the surface level but also inside.” You tilted your head confused at what she just called you, laughing nervously.

“I’m what?” You ask her, resulting in her rolling her eyes as a soft red shade of colour attacked her ears.

“Beautiful, Y/n, it means beautiful.” Wednesday answers make you blush as a nervous smile forms on your lips. 

Admiring her as you run a hand through her soft bangs, not surprisingly they fall right back into place as if you never touched them when you pull away. 

As her dark eyes locked with your eyes you couldn't help but let out a breathless laugh, the look in her eyes and the look you know you have in your eyes telling her everything. 

“I don't want to make it a one time thing.” You confess as you lay your hand near her head. “I don't want it to only be secret kisses, Wednesday. I want you. I want everyone to know how much I love you.” 

For the first time in your life you see Wednesday smile; not smirk, but a true and genuine soft, small smile. 

Gracefully she grabs your hand that was on her stomach as she lifts it to her lips pressing a kiss to your knuckles making you blush at her actions.

As she held your hand she refused to pull them away from her lips, you could feel her breath tickle your skin gently as she whispered the words you have been waiting weeks to hear.

“I love you too.”

—————

authors note: i hate this sm 💀💀

#wednesday addams x female reader #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams & reader #wednesday addams x femreader #wednesday addams #wednesday #fluff #enid sinclair #my fanfiction #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you

[transfemarmin]

miles morales x black! amab! reader

being spiderman came with responsibilities; responsibilities that miles; a fifteen year old boy; sometimes took lightly, trying his hardest to still be a hero as well as living to what he thought was right; well.. he learned his lesson.. as his face was stained with the dried blood of his now deceased lover; his hands shaking as he stared down at their corpse.. he was frozen; a shaky breath coming out of his lips, a breath he didn’t even know was there.. “ no…” his voice was cracking; as his vision blurred; staring at the person he had grown to love over the years.. all the memories they shared over the years flying through his head. . .

01:

“ miles..” [name] groaned as the boy had asked them to try to do his hair; and by do it..he meant detangle it so he could wash it. “ yes?” he turned his head to look at his partner; a grin toying on his lips; his eyes had a look of love, a look that was quickly met with a look of annoyance; “ turn your damn head back around.. before i hit you in the back of the head so hard with this brush you see next year.” [name] threatened; which made miles shudder and turn back around; so the lover he had could properly detangle his hair; a kiss was laid on top of the product full head of hair he had; “ thank you, my love.”

….

[name]…

02:

“-coming!” [name] called out as they grabbed their uniform jacket and readjusted their tie before they ran out of the school; miles had asked them to come to his house.. something about an important matter that had to be discussed with them; they were running down the side of the sidewalk as they spoke to miles over the phone; “ you can’t just…TELL me over the phone..? It’s that important?” They slowed down a bit.. once they realized the bangs of their hair was up; both due to shrinkage and due to the air that was hitting them due to their fast pace.

“ yes! it’s extremely important so..get here!” and with that miles hung up; “ …i know that lil nigga did not just hang up in my face!” [name] yelled to themselves, a look of anger on his face as he stared down at his phone, grumbling to himself as he made his way to his friend’s house; he was quickly greeted with miles sitting on the sidewalk next to his house; chewing on his bottom lip; “ miles! yo..man whats good with you?” [name] spoke; a grin making its way to his face, the anger leaving as quickly as it came once he saw his friend. the guy sat down next to his friend on the sidewalk; “ hey man..I got a question..”

[name] nodded; “ i most likely got an answer..unless it’s about math.. im the english gay not the math one.” he put his hands up; the joke leaving his lips as a giggle was released almost instantly; “ but…I got you man.. c’mon tell me.” he spoke; playfully hitting his friend’s shoulder as he spoke.

“ …how did you know..you liked boys?”

“ …what?”

“…I think I like this boy.. but I don’t know how to know if I just admire him or actually like him.”

[name] raised an eyebrow and then playfully punched his friend; “ so your ass is crushin’ on someone.. and didn’t tell me..? wow.” a playful eye roll was expected but then their expression changed to one of sincerity.

“ i just..i kissed one..and compared it to how I felt with a girl.”

“ but..I never kissed a girl.”

“ you’ve been in love with one though.” [name] spoke softly; “ that girl from another dimension? ..the one with the confusing lore behind her being.”

“ dude..you understand five nights at freddy’s lore..but don’t get the spiderman one?” miles spoke; getting a bit more interested in this conversation than..to tell his best friend.. of nearly a decade he had a crush on him.

“ i…look.. im beating the black men love spiderman allegations! “ [name] spoke and threw his head back in a dramatic fashion.

“ but…we’re getting side tracked.. what is this guy like.how long you knew him?”

“ a long time man…nearly as long as I been aliv-“ almost instantly [name] cut him off

“ okay lil nigga who else you knew besides me that long that you been keeping me in the dark about?” [name] got closer to miles; their faces mere centimeters apart.. and they watched as miles began to start sweating; the slightly taller of the two could’ve sworn he heard miles mutter a ‘ you.’

“…what?”

“ i like you.”

god

w..what happened to you?

miles took a step closer to his long term boyfriend, his eyes searching over for any signs of life.. he couldn’t even see the other’s chest moving; placing his head on his chest.. his eyes widened when he heard how..quiet it was.

03:

“ why is your heart always beating so loud? that cannot be healthy.” miles shook his head as he laid his head down on his boyfriend’s chest; a blush made its way to the other’s face and they shook their head.

“ it’s cause I love you so much..you make me nervous.” they spoke softly, wrapping their arms around the frame of their partner. “ you make my hands sweaty and shit man.. I don’t know how I’m supposed to calm down when I got this gorgeous man in front of me.” [name] spoke; miles could feel the the sweat on his hands soaking through his shirt; and his eyebrows furrowed; “ jesus I didn’t know someone could sweat this much!” soon as he said that [name] snatched their hands back

“ no! baby I was joking! put them back- dude put them back!”

“ miles…” gwen started as she was in a hurry; the spot was still attacking miles’ dimension, his world was going to collapse if they didn’t stop the villain soon… but a gasp left her mouth when she saw [name].. their clothes torn and bloodied, their eyes wide with terror and mouth slightly gaped open; miles was sobbing over his boyfriend’s body; tears rushing down at a rapid pace.

…not you too.

04:

miles awkwardly cleared his throat as his looked over at his boyfriend, the two of them were at their local burger joint.. and while it was just a hang out spot for them on usual occasions.. this was their first date.

“ so..you come here often?” miles spoke; the awkward tone was dripping from his voice.. it was almost painful

“ yeah.. I do.. I come here all the time with my best friend, miles morales.” [name] said, then they released a laugh so light, it would’ve been considered more of a giggle.

“ ah..? miles morales.. what’s he like.. he tall? handsome even?” this was making the vibe less awkward; miles leaned over the table; a smirk on his face.

“ he’s very handsome..” [name] responded; looking at miles with nothing but love in their eyes. “ he’s the only one who supports the fact that I’m not always a boy.. he listens to me rant about my interests.. and I listen to him rant about his own.. I think.. I’m in love with him.” [name]’s face got hot at that last part.. miles’ did as well.

“ ..oh?” was miles’ only response.

“ …yeah.” yeah the awkward vibe was back, and miles was desperate to return it back to how it was; he placed a hand on top of [name]’s..

“ he’s in love with you too.”

don’t leave me.

miles knew [name] was already gone; but his ear was pressed against his chest anyway; his own heart pounding at the possibility of never hearing their laugh again.. not being able to listen to them rant about lore of things miles didn’t even know the first thing about..

“ [name]… if you don’t go.. I promise.. I’ll play all those dumb scary games with you..five night’s at Freddy’s.. sally face.. those dumb roblox scary games.. please.” his words oozing with pain, he felt gwen tugging on him. they had to go.. they needed to fight the spot.. the team needed them.. there was only so much they could do without the extra eyes.. the extra hands, the extra skills..

..why didn’t he save them in time..why didn’t they stay home? he told [name] the spot was dangerous and that the only people who could defeat him was him and the spider society.. he wasn’t a spider person.. [name] was a normal civilian trying to help the man they loved.

i can’t lose you..

05:

“ [name]! guess what.” miles said with a grin; as he stared at his lover; [name] rolled his eyes playfully “ what is it?”

“ i love you.” miles had a look of love.. contentment and happiness in his eyes as he said that; [name] gave a shy smile “ …i love you too, estúpido.” the last word made miles’ mouth dropped

“ what?!” he shouted; “ where did you learn that?”

“ your mom! “ [name] said with a grin; “ she didn’t call you stupid.. she was just doing that thing..moms do when they rant to themselves and forget people can hear them.” [name] shrugged as he stared at his boyfriend

“ i just wanted to try it out…” the other gave their boyfriend a soft flick to the forehead

“ you’re very smart.. smartest boy I ever met…after me when im feeling the man in me.” [name] said as they opened their legs in that moment, manspreading; turning to miles and grinned. his eyes showing nothing but happiness and love.

“ but..seriously man.. I love you too.. so fucking much.”

…please.

..

.

#miles morales angst #miles morales x reader #miles morales #across the spider verse #miles morales x black!reader #black tumblr #gwen stacy x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #spiderman x reader #male reader #gender neutral reader #trans #miles morales x male reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #angst #miles x you #pavitr x reader #miles morales x y/n #gwen stacy x you #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miles x black reader #miles morales atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader

[aita-blorbos]

Am I the "asshole" for wanting to have a body again?

Context: I was once a powerful demon, but an attempt was made to seal that demon's soul inside a cursed object. The sealing didn't completely succeed, and the demon's soul was torn to pieces, with only the part currently known as "me" ending up inside. I don't remember much about this part of my life, but as far as I can recall, I almost certainly didn't do anything to deserve it.

I (immortal, pick one) have been trapped in this object as an incorporeal spirit for so long I've lost track of time. My prison has changed hands many times, but was most recently acquired by an extremely ambitious student at a nearby magic school (13M, we'll refer to him as "K"). K all but demanded I lend my power to him and teach him some of what I knew. As I quite literally have nothing better to do, I agreed, and the arrangement has been mostly tolerable.

Except a short time after we began working together, a new student "S" (also 13M) showed up at K's school. And what did he have with him but the other part of my soul?! I don't know how he came to have it, if he's some sort of reincarnation of my original self or a distant descendant, but all that mattered was that if I could get to him, I could have a body again. It was the best opportunity I'd ever had to get my life back. So I got K to perform a ritual that switched our places and put me in his body (and before I'm called the "asshole" for that, it was supposed to be a TEMPORARY arrangement, and besides, he's the one who wants to mess with dark magic. I taught him a very valuable lesson about dealing with demons! Not that he actually learned anything from it…)

S came straight to me, but someone must've realized what was going on and put a protection charm on him. Then he beat me in a duel, and after that he just…walked away. Like he didn't have a care in the world! He hadn't come to deal with me, or even to save his classmate, no, he just wanted to steal one of my ritual components because some stranger had asked him to, otherwise I don't know if he'd have bothered showing up. I don't think he even listened to a word I said.

Needless to say, that plan didn't work out. I'm still working with K, but now both his teacher and the most powerful warlock on this side of the planet are watching me like I'm some sort of criminal. And what's worse, no one involved took me seriously, and aren't willing to so much as mention the incident. It's like it didn't even matter! I'm pretty sure even S has forgotten the whole thing, he's got a memory like a sieve for anything that isn't the scientific name for a stag beetle.

It hasn't been all that long, but it feels as if it's been decades since I've gotten to do anything. Is it so wrong for me to try and escape this pitiful existence I've been unjustly forced into? Am I going to spend the rest of eternity in here being the butt of some kind of massive cosmic joke? I really don't think I deserve to be either treated like a reprobate or outright ignored.

EDIT: THIS IS FAKE NONE OF THIS HAPPENED my device must have been stolen moderators please delete!!

EDIT 2: To everyone saying K should get rid of the demon, if any of these events had hypothetically actually happened (WHICH THEY DIDN'T), I would definitely have the situation COMPLETELY under control by now!!

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[dumplingsfordays]

patching you up

blade x injured!gn!reader

genre - fluff

summary - blade patches you up after you got injured while fighting mara.

cw!: mentions of blood + injury, soft-ish!blade, ooc blade?, mention of blade's past life which idfk how it works lmao I should be paying attention to the storyline asjdnb, swearing, mutual pining

note - god damn. soft!blade is living in my head rent-free fr, can't get enough of him <33 I'm not usually an edgy-emo-boy fan but ig blade's just built different 💪💪

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

With each painful cough, more and more thin splatters of blood painted your mouth crimson.

It hurt. A lot. You didn't expect it to hurt nearly as bad as it did when you charged in to fight the Mara that was attacking some people that were making their way through Cloudford, but the spear that their captain had used to stab through your side was probably coated in some sort of poison, because with every sluggish step you took, you felt your body break little by little. Eventually, you collapsed onto the cold ground - your torso was numb and soon your arms and legs would be as well.

Well, at least you were going to die somewhere pretty. The sunset glimmered through the leaves of thin trees growing from large pots, which were scattered across the various bridges of the district. Starskiffs drifted lazily across the sky like regal ships on the high seas and the last thing you heard before you closed your eyes for a while was the sound of crickets and footsteps fading in.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Finally fucking awake."

A harsh voice came from your side as you opened your extremely tired eyes, which were met with dim but warm lighting and a dark wooden ceiling.

"Can't believe you got into this mess," the voice continued as you felt something tightening around your waist. "Didn't think that you'd be so stupid."

His face flashed in your hazy mind and you tried to sit up. "...Blade, I-"

"Don't move. You'll make it worse."

Hands. Ice-cold, gruff, but gentle hands pushed you back into your previous position by your shoulders, and you felt the tightening feeling again shortly after.

"What are you doing?" you whispered, then coughed again. Your throat was so dry - it felt like you haven't drank in decades, and with each cough you swore that your lungs were going to fly out of your mouth at the sheer force.

"Fixing you, obviously."

You raised your neck to try and catch a glimpse of your wounds but saw only the top of Blade's head, his raven hair tied back in a low ponytail. He was bent over your side, and just as you lowered your head back to the pillow a sharp bolt of pain shot through you, making you hiss and wince.

"That hurt!"

"It'll pass," he replied almost too casually. "Deal with it."

An uncomfortable pause ensued, during which you finally figured out that he was bandaging your torso up. You'd never expected anyone to find you back there, much less a Stellaron Hunter that you'd only interacted with five or six times, but thank the Aeons that at least someone did. But you did think it was strange that he was doing this for you, because from all your two-or-three-word conversations, you were sure that he wasn't the type to help an almost complete stranger. In fact, you'd think that he would be the one to cause these injuries in the first place.

While you were staring up at the ceiling in deep thought, Blade was lowkey kind-of admiring your skin. You weren't going to look down at him again anyway, it seems that you'd learned your lesson, but that just allowed him to eye your softness in more detail. This was his chance - he'd been admiring you from afar ever since you first met, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity to see what you looked like close-up pass.

Before he knew what he was doing, Blade's fingers reached out to lightly press onto skin that was near your wound, at which you hissed and leaned away from his touch.

"You sure that you're actually healing me?" you asked.

"Yes. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

He continued to press curiously but gently, making sure not to hurt you on purpose. Your skin was fascinating to him - it was soft, warm, while his was unforgivingly cold; yours had a fascinating shade of life about it and his didn't. This contrast was what made his eyes widen a little everytime he made physical contact with you, and he found small differences like these to amount to vast ones overall. Maybe this is what always made him think that you came from a different world entirely.

Blade then noticed that your hand was trembling by your side - the painkillers must be wearing off. He stood up from the chair beside the bed on which you were resting and reached for a couple pills and a glass of water on a nearby counter, moving them to the bedside table. His hands felt your back as he sat you up to administer the medicine.

You now saw where you were - from what you could tell, it was a small house or apartment somewhere. Dark wood covered the walls, ceiling, and floor, and tapestries and thriving plants littered the environment. You didn't know that he had a green thumb, but now that you did, you felt safer somehow - what if this cold, distant man was more human than you'd originally thought him to be?

His lithe, cold fingers brought you back to reality as they rested under your jaw, pulling it open gently, and your eyes focused on his admittedly quite handsome face again. Crimson eyes, the color of a blood moon, stared intensely at yours in avid concentration before travelling back to his other hand, which was now lifting a glass of sparkling golden liquid to your lips. There was a certain reverence of sorts glimmering in his expression, and this was accompanied by the fact that he was treating you like he would a glass flower. Your lips finally met the rim of the glass and when you finally tasted the elixir, you sighed.

It was cool and sweet, a refreshing sensation that battled the humidity of the room and the pain in your side. You drank the entire glass with ease and after Blade set it down on the bedside table, he wiped away some stray droplets of the shining liquid with a rough thumb.

That was it - Blade had become an entirely person just now. You could see it in his eyes and feel it as he breathed: this was not the same person who happened to be walking by a person on their deathbed and had enough pity in their secluded heart to heal them. He treated you like an old friend or a partner, perhaps, by taking you in.

"You'll experience drowsiness soon," he mentioned, "don't feel like you can't sleep. I won't leave you."

You laughed lazily in return, already feeling the effects of the painkillers. "So you can murder me in my sleep?"

"...I can leave-"

"No, no, I'm just kidding."

You sigh and relax into the pillows beneath you as Blade lowers you onto your back again. His gaze lingers on yours for maybe a second too long but he pulls away, preferring to sit down in a chair by the bedside and stare out at the scenery surrounding the house.

Once your eyes close and your breaths become quiet, he gives it a couple seconds to make sure you're asleep before softly starting to hum. It's an old tune from his past life, one which he used to smith to, and as midnight moonlight begins to stream in through the window, it veils your calm face in a hazy, shimmery glow that rivals even the smoothest of satins. He reaches a hand towards the apple of your cheek, cradling it in his palm as he sighs, a faint smile dancing on his lips.

"You're gonna kill me someday."

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #fluff #blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #blade x reader #star rail blade #blade x y/n #blade fluff #blade x you #hes so babygirl for some reason like???

[pretending-ican-write]

Cowboy Up - Pt.3

Hope y'all enjoy! As always if there's anything wrong/inaccurate let me know. I'm currently looking through the show and picking out the scenes from each episode I want to put her into if anyone has any they'd like to see please let me know!

Pairing: Ryan (Yellowstone) x Dutton!reader

WC: 1894 (I wanted to split it but there was no good dividing point)

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A few months had passed and y/n had settled back into life on the ranch.  She had become accustomed to the 4am alarm in the form of Rip banging on the trailer, dragging herself into the bunk house and Lloyd handing her coffee before heading out to start work before the sun had begun to touch the mountain peaks.  Winter had arrived in Montana and the snow had descended from the mountains and into the valley.  In between the mountains, the winter sun did little to keep the frost away from the frozen ground and the hands could see their breath as they sat on their horses in the corral.

It was another day of roping practice and it was getting competitive, as it always did.  Y/n watched from her horse as a couple of hands took after the steer.  When they caught it, there were jeers from the onlookers at how long it had taken them.

“You call that roping boys?” She shouted, “you’d think they’d have learnt after a few months how to get one.”

One glared at her, “you think you can do better?  You’re a barrel racer woman not a fuckin’ roper.”

There was a low whistle from Lloyd, “boy you just made a big mistake.”

“Which reason is that I can’t rope?  ‘Cuz I’m a barrel racer or because I’m a woman?  Boy, I could rope circles around you with my eyes shut,” y/n responded.

He laughed, “I’d like to see you try.”

“Rip you want to help me prove this son of a bitch wrong?” She asked.

The foreman nodded, “boys you’re about to learn a true lesson in cowboying.”

They lined the horses up on either side of the chute, exchanging a look of determination.  With a deep breath, she nodded at Jake to open it up.  The gate flew open and the horses took off after the steer at speed.  With the ease of someone who’d roped cattle for over a decade, Rip had the horns and pulled the steer left.  Y/n swung the lasso over her head and threw it with careful timing to catch the back legs and bring the steer to an easy stop.  

“You forget that I been dealing with cattle since I could sit on a horse,” she shouted back to them.

Lloyd chuckled, “she’s more cowboy than any of you motherfuckers could ever hope to be.”

The old hand looked at Ryan next to him whose eyes were trained on the young woman as she furled her rope up neatly and patted her horse’s neck.  Lloyd observed the softness in his eyes and the way he subconsciously leaned forward in his saddle.  

He leaned over towards Ryan, “you ought to be careful with how you watch her son.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Lloyd,” Ryan straightened himself up.

Lloyd shook his head, “I’ve seen that look in enough cowboy’s eyes to know that it ends in heartbreak.”

“Trying my fuckin’ best to keep it out of ‘em,” he answered.

He watched y/n lope her horse around the corral, “you know if you break her heart there’ll be a line to break your face and I’m sure as hell in it.”

“She doesn’t make it easy Lloyd that’s for damn sure,” Ryan muttered, “god damn charm without even trying.”

Lloyd nodded, “neither of you are fuckin’ subtle.  Just don’t break her heart.”

Before he could respond, y/n brought her horse to a stop in front of them.  Her smile was infectious and Ryan couldn’t help but smile back at her.

“Anytime one of you boys needs a little humbling with a rope you let me know,” Y/n declared, “I’ll take your money here or at the poker table anytime.”

Ryan whispered under his breath, “you are gonna be the fuckin’ end of me.”

-/-/-

A few days later the hands were all gathered around the table with the bunk house heater on full blast.  A cold snap had come into the valley and didn’t show any signs of leaving.  The usual beer that came with the nightly game of cards had been exchanged for hot drinks and nobody had been brave enough to take their jackets off when they came inside.  

An argument was just about to break out between the hands when the door to the bunkhouse swung open to reveal y/n, not that it was immediately obvious it was her underneath all the layers she was wearing.  They stopped talking as the door swung shut behind her and watched as she deposited herself with all the clothes she was wearing right in front of the heater.  That got them talking again.

“Woman that’s the only thing stopping this entire bunk from getting hypothermia,” Jake exclaimed.

She glared at him, “at least you got heat.  Fuckin’ trailer’s battery packed in and there’s no damn heat in there.  Colder than the artic.”

“Go back to the house where you belong then,” the new hand responded bitterly.

Y/n shook her head, “boy you’ve been here long enough to know those words shoulda never come out your mouth.  Now move over so I can steal this week’s wages from you.”

“Okay but seriously why don’t you move back there where it’s warm?” Jake pressed.

She sighed, “I’ll go back there when he takes back what he did to Kaye.  And he can’t ever take that back.”

-/-/-

Later, after taking money from the hands that they didn’t have to give, y/n replaced all the layers she’d shed in the warmth of the bunkhouse and retreated to the cold of her trailer.  Ryan had watched with concern as she stepped out into the freezing night but kept his thoughts to himself when he saw the look that Lloyd was giving him.  He resigned himself to finishing their game of cards before turning in for the night, aware of the time he needed to be up in the morning.  As the bunkhouse fell asleep, Ryan listened to the wind rattling over the roof unsettled by the thought of y/n in the trailer with no heat.

After a couple of hours of tossing restlessly in his bunk, Ryan relented to his concern and got up.  Quietly, he put his coat and hat on before leaving the bunk house.  His breath was visible in the cold air and he pulled his coat tighter around him against the chill of the wind.  A light still on in the barn caught his attention and he went to investigate why it was still on in the middle of the night.

In the barn, nearly all the horses were asleep and safely tucked away from the cold outside.  As he headed down the aisle, Ryan looked into the stalls to check on the horses and stopped halfway down where the light was still on.  The spotted horse looked up from his hay briefly when Ryan stopped before looking to the back of the stall, as if indicating the cowboy what was there.  At the back, partially obscured, was a barely distinguishable figure beneath a pile of blankets he recognised from before.

“Fuck you doing out here?” He asked, surprised to see her there.

Y/n opened her eyes to look at him, “could ask you the same thing, cowboy.”

“Jake snores too much,” he claimed.

She snorted, “you managed just fine for years.  Somehow I don’t think that’s it.”

Ryan looked at her through the bars of the stall door as she raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.  He sighed at the look on her face and the collection of blankets she was in.

“Was worried about you in the cold,” he relented.

Y/n smiled at him, “Comanche is doing a good job of keeping me warm aren’t you boy.”

“And that’s why I can see you shivering under all those layers from here,” Ryan pointed out.

She rolled her eyes, “honestly I’m fine Ry.  Go get some sleep.”

“God you’re killing me here,” he muttered under his breath, “you’re gonna catch your death out here y/n.”

“Honeslty stop worrying about me,” she sighed, “I’m a big girl I can look after myself.”

Ryan opened the stall door and looked at her, “we can stand here and debate that while you continue to get hypothermia or we can skip that and you can come sleep in the bunkhouse.”

“Is there a way this conversation ends with me winning?” Y/n questioned from her place on the floor.

He shook his head, “if you want to be one explaining to Rip, Lloyd, Lee and your father why you didn’t take the opportunity to sleep in a warm bunk house and instead froze out here and therefore need to be taken to hospital for frostbite, be my guest sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart, huh?” She smirked at him.

Ryan rolled his eyes, “of that whole thing that’s what you took away, y/n?  Get your ass out of that stall.”

“It’s almost tempting to keep this going to see how you’ll react but I am starting to lose feeling in my toes,” she relented, “but you’re gonna have to pull me off the floor.”

He chuckled but stepped into the stall nonetheless.  Y/n held her hand out to him expectantly and he took it, effortlessly pulling her from the floor into him  They stood there for a moment, chests pressed against each other and his hand still in her cold one.  Even with the numerous blankets around her shoulders, Ryan could still see her shivering.  Y/n could feel the warmth from his hand spreading up her arm and gasped at the feeling of it.  She didn’t dare break his gaze, staring deep into his blue eyes.

Comanche snorted, dragging them out of their bubble and back to the reality that was the cold Montana night.  Ryan dropped her hand and wordlessly exited the stall.  Y/n stood there, blinking dumbly before she collected her thoughts and followed him out of the barn.

“And just where exactly in the bunk house are you expecting me to sleep?” She asked as they stood outside the door.

He smiled at her, “honestly for someone so smart you are being incredibly thick right now.  Take my bunk and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

She followed him into the dark bunk house and allowed herself to be guided towards his bunk by a hand on her back.  Ryan watched as she shed the many blankets from around her and slid into the warmth of his bed.  Y/n gestured for him to take her blankets to the couch and he winked at her.

She allowed her eyes to follow his figure through the dark to the couch and watched as he took his boots off, placing his hat on top of them.  Once she was satisfied that he was settled, Y/n turned over to stare at the wall.  The smell of Ryan encompassed her from all sides and she couldn’t help the way every muscle in her body relaxed when she inhaled.  With warmth finally filling her bones, she allowed sleep to overcome her.

#ryan yellowstone #ryan yellowstone x reader #yellowstone imagine #yellowstone tv #yellowstone #ian bohen #dutton!reader #dutton ranch

[m1d-45]

pankration

summary: wriothesley has come a long way in his life, ascending the ranks of the fortress in merely a handful of years. yet, after it all, it always seems he ends up right back where he started.

word count: 3.7k

-> warnings: lots of mentions of blood and violence, major spoilers for wriothesley lore/story quest

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt

< masterlist >

pankration was a core part of the fortress of meropide.

it started as a collective term for the various brawls around every corner, a whispered term when guards were present. all fights had to be reported, but if you bet on someone winning pankration, those that knew pretended they didn’t and those that didn’t didn’t have to pretend at all. anything goes within the impromptu battlefield, cut up gears into rough brass knuckles, scrap metal as a shiv, blood and bruises blooming in equal proportion. fighters would take out whoever you wanted if you had enough credits, or maybe they wouldn’t and take both your money and the reward from the administrator for reporting you. pankration had no rules, no boundaries, no set time or place.

wriothesley knew this, and figured out early on the best ways to win. when he first arrived at the fortress, he was young. not exactly scrawny by anyone’s standards, but certainly at a disadvantage among those with decades of experience. he kept his vision close to his chest, and when another prisoner’s knife dug into it instead of his heart, he knew he had to change.

he was never taught how to fight, but he learned how to cheat, and fast. he swiped spare wire and scrap parts, formed points for his punches to drive through. he couldn’t beat his opponents through pure strength at first, so he forced himself to be quick. even the toughest fighters had their weak spots, and he was determined to find them. it was life or death, if not for the immediate battle then for long term food.

a small corner of his mind flinched at the violence, hated that this was how things had to be, but he silenced it quickly enough. he was fighting for money, he told himself, to win reputation, to earn his spot within the bolted steel walls. he fighting to be able to eat well, to sleep comfortably, to walk when he needed without his hands twitching for his gauntlets at any sound. he fought to stay alive, not only because of his vision’s added strength but of his own, every scar across his body a lesson learned.

slowly, his reputation grew. slowly, people began to recognize him, the oddly proportioned teenager —only barely, but he wasn’t about to correct them—with steel hands and silvered hair. rumors were as important a currency as coupons, and he took great care to keep the ones about him in his favor. that was his life for a while, cycling between picking fights and patching himself up, collecting coupons and earning favor. he listened to the shadows, and if someone had something to say, he challenged them in the light.

soon, though, these whispers began to change. gossip bled through the walls about a ‘duke,’ speaking with such reverence that it had him worried. they spoke about him like a deadly weapon, all sharp edges and jabbing cuts. the duke, highest in rank second only to the administrator, a force of nature stronger than even the sea itself. he’d never met or even heard of duke, had they been intentionally avoiding him? how much did they know? he only hid his pankration from the guards, he’d be at a major disadvantage if they knew all his tactics.

it’s almost funny how concerned he was over a ghost, the thin week between who he was and who he became spent with a knife tucked in his sleeve.

someone had tried to trick a new prisoner into being his toy, saying that it was part of the prison’s “orientation program.” wriothesley thought he’d made his point perfectly clear to all who knew him that newbies needed time to make their own place, but a well-placed punch did the rest of the job. he wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying, spouting off the usual nonsense about not taking advantage of others while an itch at the back of his neck told him he was doing the same thing.

it’s different, he told himself, even as his boot pressed into their chest. they tried to push it off, wheezing out an apology, but he let them squirm a bit before letting up. it’s different, because he’s doing it to protect someone else, isn’t he?

“that’s our duke,” someone whispered behind him, and he whipped around so quickly he nearly tripped over himself. he searched for an unfamiliar face, trying to find who spoke, but all eyes were on him.

his hands began to shake within his gloves, uncomfortable dots connecting in his head. he stepped forward to push his way through, but the crowd parted like the tide around a ship, nobody resentful on behalf of the man with bruises rapidly forming across his ribs.

he spent nearly an entire day alone after that, pacing within his room. how could he be their duke when he didn’t want to rule? not out of fear, not when a sharp enough glare could make another prisoner pale, not when he had just managed to convince himself that his violence was a necessity. his gauntlets lay on his desk and he didn’t even want to touch them, conflict taking place of his blood.

he was still doing good, wasn’t he? protecting those who didn’t know better, forcing vendors to lower the cost of basic necessities, discouraging violence against the guards to defend those he could tentatively trust. he did not have an ‘inner circle,’ not like the other groups that came before him, and part of the reason was that he was not part of any one gang. he had no affiliation but himself, no family but the steel that wrapped around his wrists, no name but the one he’d chosen.

but here he was. the duke of the fortress.

he wasn’t the first to know when his coupons were taken. a massive leaderboard hung in the center of the main level, the top ten positions a brawl. his place had long since been cemented, and yet he returned from his breakfast to find a massive crowd surrounding the board. part of him wanted to ignore it, as he was leaving—was he? he was avoiding the topic as best as he could—the fortress the next day, but he knew better. as before, the crowd parted, allowing him to see that his space on the board had been filled, with a note to the side explaining that his had been confiscated for “poor behavior.”

he almost laughed. almost, the corner of his mouth twitching, but he remained firm. the crowd had turned to him for an answer, and he needed to find one fast.

“that could have been anyone.” he didn’t know where he was going with this, turning around and crossing his arms to appear bigger than he was. “is that how you want to live?”

roars of agreement met his ears, most of the prisoner body gathered under a flag of need.

“underhanded sabotage is not the answer to the failure of authority,” he had declared, well aware that the hand he was waving was stained with years of bloodshed. “i’ll take care of it.”

he didn’t know how. nobody asked, hundreds of voices assenting that their duke would handle it, that if anyone could it was him, again parting to allow him passage. his hand was raised, knocking on the administrator’s door before he could understand what he was doing. he didn’t even register their face, heart pounding. he was saying something, asking- asking for a duel he’d surely never receive. he may have some sort of authority over the prisoners, but he surely had none over the administrator.

when they called for those who thought the challenge was unjustified, the only sound was the water circulating beneath their feet.

they agreed. tomorrow at noon, in front of their office. he nodded, the doors closed, and he was left in front of a crowd he didn’t know how to face. people were smiling, patting each other’s shoulders, expecting him to win. he knew if it came down to a physical fight he would, but they could have just as easily slipped word to a palais garde, and his sentence would be extended for threatening a public official.

would he mind? was freedom what he really wanted? did he prefer living in the fortress, or did he just like that he’d already established a foundation? what did that say about him, if he liked living in blood and oil more than he did fresh air?

he hardly slept that night, not that it mattered. the administrator was gone the next morning, and his life had changed.

another crowd had gathered, trying and failing to be subtle. iron doors stared him down, the knocker weighing twice as much as it should. when it hit the door, it shifted inward just the smallest amount, as if inviting him in. his heart was in his ears as he pushed the door open, wondering about the hundreds of options that could be awaiting him inside, but the office was empty. the lower level had no coat on the rack, the stairs missing the bright red rug that used to run down it. the shelves up top were empty, the only sign someone had lived in there at all taking the form of a gramophone sitting on the edge of the desk. no record lay inside.

people had figured out what had happened, now, metal echoing as people climbed the stairs. the chair was a plush velvet, a rapidly forming headache burning behind his eyes.

the prior administrator had people call them by their title and last name, a rule nobody followed. they were simply the admin, nameless and faceless and only ruler in title alone. wriothesley’s name was well known throughout every inch of the fortress’ walls, and yet now that he was in their chair, everyone still called him the duke.

his position as duke did not make him fit to be an administrator, and his new seat could only be secured as he proved himself worthy of it. he had no idea how to manage the fortress. he was running blind for a half of his first year, off the cuff intuition somehow getting him what he wanted. he feared every day that someone would find out, that his incompetence would be put upon the world’s stage, but either nobody noticed or nobody cared. he timed shipments wrong? apologies for the hold-up. guards weren’t following the uncoordinated patrols he arranged? forgive us, your grace, for allowing your orders to slip our mind. he waited for the day that people realized they had no tangible reason to respect him, waited for the revolt, but it never came.

why? he wanted to ask, watching as guards saluted when he walked by. what part of me has earned your respect?

he made it a point not to strong-arm prisoners now that he was in a higher position, did his best not to rule with fear. as a prisoner, he could allow himself to survive, but now he had no reason to. to wriothesley, true respect was not bought or fought for, and only true respect could keep a fortress full of criminals in line.

welfare meals earned him respect. standardized jobs, base level housing, small quality of life changes that he hated as a prisoner. he worked from dawn to dusk—as much as one could when buried hundreds of feet beneath the sea—and even then, it took him years to feel as if he’d finally earned his keep. much like his time as an inmate, wriothesley could not feel comfortable until he had prepared for everything, until every problem had either been gotten rid of or improved.

pankration could not fully be outlawed. fights would still happen no matter what rules he implemented, so he skipped banning and went straight for regulation. the least he could do was ensure it was safe and organized, to provide a stage for formalized challenges. it only resembles its original form in name, changing from fistfights in shadowed hallways to a tournament sport held next door to the infirmary. a new elevator was installed, a dedicated section of the sub-level below sectioned off to keep the main area of the fortress somewhat quiet. prisoners’ hobbies had little to do with how the fortress functioned externally, but he was finding himself with more and more free time. it was supposed to be a good thing, less work for him meant that the systems he’d implemented could hold their own, but he was left restless. even now, his schedule was cleared for the rest of the day, desk empty of paperwork. nothing to do and nothing more urgent needed improving, so it’s not like he had anything better to do than pay the ring a visit. he was getting antsy sitting still for so long anyway.

he pulled his jacket from the back of his chair, lazily draping it over one shoulder. guards and prisoners alike dipped their heads as he passed, a gesture he returned with a faint wave. the elevator was empty, the clanking gears his only company as the cart slowly twisted. the shouts and cheers from below grew louder and louder, echoing up the tunnel. the doors hissed open and he stepped out, the sound of his boots on the metal floors drowned as bets were won and lost.

he could nearly pinpoint the moment that people recognized him. the flicker of uncertainty over their faces, credit coupons tucked into pockets and hidden away, someone subtly trying to loosen the springs on the training dummies. he spent years trying to lead without terror, and yet here in the pankration ring, none of it seemed to matter. blood and sweat mixed in the air, his mind automatically associating the smell with memories. if he were to close his eyes, he could almost pretend he wasn’t wearing his cloak, pretend he was about to enter a fight he knew he could win, pretend that he could see his would-be opponent curled up in a pool of their own blood.

“is there a problem, your grace?”

he blinked, and he was back to the present. “just wanted to check in,” he lied, waving over to the group of training equipment. “you could tell me if you needed new dummies.”

and the group relaxed, oblivious to the fact that their duke’s fingers were digging into his arm, the memories lingering like an infectious disease.

he came back the next week, helping set up the new equipment. the old ones were worn out and poorly repaired, and everyone was happy that they were being replaced. it was a safety hazard more than anything, and a need he was more than willing to meet.

again, setting up a small stall for water and snacks, for both contestant and observer. a more official platform for those managing the bets and standardization for the referees, better padding over the poles of the ring, jokes passed around that if he spent any more time in the arena, he might as well compete.

he had told himself he was better. that he was only a fighter as an inmate because he needed to be, that everything he did worked to prevent power by way of fear. he told himself over and over that he was different, that he didn’t want that, and now he was wondering if he ever believed it. now he wondered why he ever tried.

his coat was left in his office this time, the various pins and layers of his outfit stripped away. wraps were now purchasable, but his hands were covered in the same roughly cut cloth he’d always used. he stretched, watched as his opponent hyped himself up, gaining cheers from the crowd on his side of the arena. he had wanted his first show to be a surprise, to listen to the shocked silence that would undoubtedly follow his debut. he reached, pulling himself up and over the railing in one fluid jump, and was met with the silence he expected.

and then the room exploded, coupons changing hands—why was he surprised people were betting on him competing?—as his opponent turned around. with the entire arena as his witness, wriothesley smiled, adrenaline tingling in his palms at the flash of fear over their face.

for the good of both pankration and the fortress as a whole, he’d hired a proper, in-house nurse. her name was sigewinne, a melusine with more intuition for the human body than most would give her credit for, her work neat and diligent. she was hellbent on getting him to take care of himself, which included stopping his habit of returning to the ring day after day. when he went to fix himself up (that she always insisted on doing for him) she often asked why, asked if there was really nothing better to do with his time than to continue to fight as if he were an inmate, all teeth and claws and dirty tactics. he knew if he was honest with her, pouring out every thought and craving in his head, she would have some fancy name for his desire. there was some book she could point to, some moment in his life that was at fault, but he never bothered trying. why would he, when he already had his answer? this rush, this high as he dashed forward, feeling the prisoner’s balance shift beneath his fist, it wasn’t a stranger to him. he was well familiar with the pride that came with a fight well won. wriothesley had spent years convincing himself he had earned his power outside of beating someone else for it, but now he wondered why he had used that conviction to avoid fighting as a whole. this was what he was meant for, barely feeling the blows across his chest in favor of kicking out their feet with his own, pouncing as they fell. there was no crowd around him, no harsh lights, just him and the head locked beneath his arm, elbows jabbing backwards in weak protest.

the bell rang. he’d won. he didn’t care.

again and again, he returned to the ring, the bruises from his last fight not yet fully healed. scars already crossed his body in a net of victories, he barely noticed a few extra spots of blue. he wanted more than anything to believe he was better than those who raised him, that he wasn’t someone who wanted others to live in fear of them, but he couldn’t deny the enjoyment he felt when someone regretted signing up. that brief, blink and you miss it instance of cold feet, lingering just for a moment. there were rules to pankration now, rules that he followed to the letter, but that didn’t make him any less intimidating and everyone involved knew it. a lifetime of fought for muscle and a glare sharpened to a point, barely an icy flash beneath his hair. the deafening cheers, the dim lights, his split lip he barely noticed and a bruise on his side that pulsed when he breathed. beat up and dirty, the prime example of some street rat he’d normally condemn, smiling a bit too wide when he won.

what was the point of being a duke, his mind whispered, if he wasn’t allowed a little fun?

that’s what it was to him. fun. he put up a front and pretended that he was whole on the inside, that it was just a time-killer to keep him in shape, the sick pride that came with it a secret kept locked far, far away. maybe he wasn’t better. maybe this made him just as bad as his host family was, maybe his enjoyment should have him locked up in a different kind of institution. maybe that was all true, but his gray morality was something he’d long since come to terms with. he didn’t regret killing, he didn’t regret rising to the tops of the fortress’ ranks, and he certainly didn’t regret taking part in this new pankration. what was one more sin added to his tally? wednesdays always had a cleared afternoon, but it wasn’t enough, his feet bringing him back to the arena again and again. day after day, the elevator’s whine already setting his heart pumping faster, chasing the high that the control gave him.

his current opponent struggled beneath his hand, an iron grip around their neck that wasn’t tight enough to do any permanent damage. they could still breathe, their pulse thundering beneath his fingers, and he waited a split second too long after they tapped out to let them go.

it was bad, but it was fun, their eyes tearing up with a subconscious doubt that they’d leave the ring alive. he was bad, but he was already in prison, and nobody had to know about what went on behind the scenes of his actions. nobody ever ended up hurt, after all, and he still did somewhat pull his punches. he stood, then helped them up and patted them on the shoulder, making some blanket comment that they needed to focus on defensive techniques more. most of the contestants did. he waited a moment to make sure they got out of the arena safely before returning to his corner, waving off someone offering him water. it wasn’t as if he didn’t care his prisoners, far from it in fact, but…

wriothesley made a bit of a show of fixing the wraps on his hand, watching that familiar regret light up his next challenger’s eyes.

what was the point of being the duke, he thought, if he wasn’t allowed a little fun?

#genshin #genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley my MIPY #blood tw #violence tw #considering it’s like most of the fic lmao #how do i TAG SHIT #wriothesley fanfic #wriothesley fanfiction #wriothesley genshin #your boy is guessing #genshin fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic #fanfiction #character study #m going off the tags in the search tab which. isn’t the best source but #i do be guessing though… #anyway how we feelin how we doing?? #go rewatch wriothesleys story cutscene it’s good for your soul #god this man makes me insane #he’s so crunchy CRISPY

[theladyismyshepard]

Hi there I haven't requested anything here in almost 2 years now and I won't lie I miss it, so if it's alright can I ask for Astarion and shadowhearts separate reaction to the Reader who is a magic user coming from a different world where magic is seen as a disease and those who have control of it are marked with a lightning like mark on their cheek

(Similar to the bearer mark from FF16)

I actually have a dusty old draft that's been collecting 2 years worth of cobwebs and it's a WIP that haunts me every time I see it when I open my drafts... and that just so happened to be a request of yours @adryanscott... so for you? Anything at all. The outline seems a little different, but bear with me

Tags: Mentions of abuse, torment, descriptions of chronic illness, Bearer enslavement canon to FF universe

Will You Be My Final Fantasy?

You were but a child when the magic lying dormant beneath your skin burst forth, crackling at your fingertips and ready to be cast. You were but a child when you yourself was cast away by your own parents, your entire world shifting upside down when you were sold off to the highest bidder. Gaia did not feel too much like home anymore, not when the people you had come to know as family and friends looked upon you with such disdain. The neck-breaking pace of which you had gone from carefree to chained was a shellshock that you were forced to adapt quickly to lest you learn the lesson of just how expendable you really were to your own people. At first, it had cut you so deep down that it pierced your soul.

Once the branding tattoo had marked the flesh of your cheek to signify the power brewing underneath, you were scorned. The people of Gaia thought you to be diseased and more monster than human. They feared your power and what you might be capable of, so they had come up with the idea of the bearer mark. Not only did it act as a red flag to warn others that you possessed natural magic and that you were owned, it dulled your powers in a painful way that left you with a permanent uncomfortable itch just beneath your skin. No amount of scratching or tearing away at the skin of your cheek would bring you relief, and at first, your struggle provided a great source of amusement for your enslavers until you began slacking on the quality of your duties.

As the years gave way to decades, the fiery fury that fueled your desire to see another day had slowly begun dwindling. You felt as if you yourself was an upturned hourglass, and with each grain of sand that flowed with time, your hope for something better faded with it. All you were living for was an end… an end to your torment, an end to your captors, an end to your miserable existence. You weren’t sure if you’d call yourself lucky or not that your Masters demanded back-breaking physical labor from you rather than casting spells at their convenience. With each draw of your magic, you felt a stiffening in your bones that brought with it a deep chill that was impossible to ward off. Maybe you were diseased…

The day had started as any other had in the past couple decades, with you rising in time with the sun to get prepared for a gruesome day of withering yourself away to nothing. As you glanced up to the sky to watch the first peeks of sunlight bleeding into the blanket of night, you couldn’t help the furrow of your brow when you noticed a small tear. Your lips parted, but as you took a step forward for a closer look to assure yourself that you weren’t hallucinating, there was an audible ripping sound as the tear in the sky widened into a large hole. Before you could even feel fear chill the blood in your veins, there was a gigantic ship soaring through, and across the horizon. You had never seen such a horrific-looking vessel that had long, flowing tentacles such as the one overhead at the moment, and your flight instincts kicked you into overdrive as it veered in your direction.

There was no time to register the long, fluid shadow of the tentacle hovering over you before it struck, and all you could do was watch on in horror as your hands began to disintegrate. First, you lost feeling in your fingers before the cracks broke apart your wrists, leaving nothing in its wake. The disintegration process didn’t take long to travel along the lengths of your forearms and up your biceps, and no amount of harsh gasps of air could pull enough breath into your lungs. You were fading fast. As your arms disappeared, you began to choke on the tightness in your chest before ash peppered your tongue and lodged itself along the walls of your throat. With a final gurgle, your eyes disintegrated and darkness enveloped you until there was nothing left.When you had awoken, you discovered yourself in a world where nearly everyone wielded magic. It was a culture shock that left you reeling, and even though you witnessed open displays of magic, even from some of your own party members, with no repercussions involved, you didn’t feel safe enough to expose yourself for what you were.

Shadowheart –

Even as you found yourself drawn towards Shadowheart, and felt yourself relating to the air of mystery (you understood better than anyone the need to bury the past and never let anyone see), you were so traumatized and so used to being seen as an animal to be used until broken that you could not speak the words. You were too fearful of being cast away yet again.

When Shadowheart had kissed you after revealing some of her own memories, you had tasted the bitterness of both the wine and of your own backstory on your tongue. It was the perfect moment to open up to the cleric, especially when you had never seen her eyes look so soft as they did when they gazed upon you at that moment. She had even asked you about your Bearer’s mark…but panic had seized control over any inklings of rationality you had left, and you had mumbled something about “everyone else had one” and “giving into the peer pressure”… The romantic atmosphere didn’t go any further than that, and you were grateful because the tightness in your chest proved too distracting to properly worship Shadowheart’s body. As you learned more and more of Shadowheart and who she affiliated herself with, you gauged other people’s reactions and deduced that her magic was frowned upon by many.

Her head never ducked beneath the weight of heated gazes sent her direction, and she never faltered at barbed words spat at her. You were in awe of how confident and self-assured she seemed in her worship, and you felt the connection between you two surpassing just your ability to relate. You admired Shadowheart to the point where you wanted to be more like her. You wanted to be free… But as you glanced between the woman you had come to care for and the shackled Nightsong, you couldn’t help thinking that Shadowheart was the true one in chains. To give blood, sweat, and tears your entire life and still have to fight through fire for any scraps of approval… it sounded too close to home for you. And if you yourself could never be free of the chains still holding you to Gaia, you would fight like hell to rid Shadowheart of hers.

You knew talking her down would prove challenging, but what you didn’t expect was how easily you had revealed your magic to the indignant woman. It was the accusation of you being clueless and ignorant spat so venomously at you that did you in. What do I know?! What do you know?! And it was the same moment your irritation boiled over that you remembered that she would never know if you refused to say something. Before she could turn her assault back onto the Nightsong, you sent a wave of your worst memories through your connection, and you were so overwhelmed yourself that you didn’t notice Shadowheart falter.

You can smell the leather of bootstraps as your bones snapped beneath heavy stomps. You can feel the sting of your open wounds rubbed with salts. You can hear the mocking laughter as your body writhes in a pool of your own blood. The stench of your boiled flesh was so pungent that you could almost taste it. There was a gnawing hunger that threatened to eat away at your stomach, and after a while, any thought of food would make you sick enough to dry heave. Through it all, there was the constant heartbeat in your cheek where the mark was tattooed. Sometimes you fear that the poison used in crafting the ink had seeped into your very pores and was burning you from the inside out. You were itchy, and so very stiff… And you couldn’t tell anyone. Keep your pain hidden. No one can help you. They’ll all hate you. You’ll be sent ba–

There were hands cradling your face, and the abrupt touch had you jolting out of your memories. Shadowheart was standing before you with tears welling up in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks. Concern and anger had flared across your connection as she glanced you up and down, desperately searching you for any lingering wounds or scars. Her eyes stopped on the lightning-shaped mark on your cheek, and you felt her thumb trace the skin below it, too hesitant to cause you additional hurt. You hiccuped as you became emotional at finally revealing the extent of your torment to the woman you loved. Your hands were shaking as you reached up to loosely grasp at her wrists, and she curled one hand around the back of your neck to bring your foreheads together.

“Never again,” Shadowheart swore thickly past her own tears, “No one will ever harm you again, not for this, not for anything…”

Your shoulders shook as an impending panic attack loomed over you.

You were taught to be ashamed of who you were, that you were less of a being and deserved the world’s spite just for being alive. You had watched people just like you call upon their magic one time too many, and the stiffness in their bones overtook them and morphed them completely into stone before withering away to dust. You were afraid of yourself for a very long time, and here this woman stood before you with nothing but love and sorrow on her face. Sorrow for what you had gone through, sorrow that you felt forced to hide from her, sorrow for you thinking you were anything less than perfect. She leaned up to place the gentlest kiss you’ve ever felt on your mark, and butterflies filled your stomach as your heart started racing.

“You have always been magnificent… I love you,” Shadowheart insisted earnestly, both of her hands now holding you close by the back of your neck, “And magic or no magic could make me need you any less, I assure you… Could you ever hate me for my magic?”

“Wh- No!” You rush to insist, but your shoulders deflate as her point reaches you… Maybe it was time to finally let yourself believe that you were really out of that place, and you never had to go back.

“I know what it’s like when something is too hard to let yourself believe… but you’ve helped me to see that there just might be the sweetest of rewards in doing so,” Shadowheart said before capturing your lips in a kiss intended to banish all doubt, and when she pulled away, she finally turned back to the Nightsong with nothing but sympathy in her heart.

You watched on in amazement as Shadowheart broke three sets of chains all at the same time.

— — — — — — — —

Astarion —

Despite the fact that a vampire had threatened to kill you in self-defense and still joined your party, you couldn’t bring yourself to fully open up. Each time his silky smooth words were close enough to reach you, your chest would seize up, keeping any and all secrets trapped within. As the weeks turned into months, you and Astarion had grown closer along the dusty trail. You had helped him to feel safe enough to confide in you about Cazador and the torments he had endured by his Master’s hand. You had felt your own misery and pain bubbling within your vocal chords, just begging to be released and revealed to the vampire. If anyone could understand the years of enslavement you had gone through because of your magic, it would be Astarion.

But throughout decades of cruelty, punishment, and humiliation, the one thing you never learned how to endure was being looked at as if you were something to be treasured rather than exploited. You knew where to cover when the blows started coming, you knew how to disassociate when the hunger set in, you knew what it was like to be more dead on the inside than on the outside… But you didn’t know how to react to any display of affection. How were you supposed to respond? You never quite learned how to convey compassion or how to accept it, and all you could do was curse yourself when you’d notice his shoulders slump the tiniest bit before his signature smirk was back in place to hide his own vulnerability.

But you had seen the smallest glimmer of how truly broken Astarion was, and now that you did, there was no unseeing it. Every sugary drawl, every deflecting answer, every flirtatious banter, it was all a facade, one that always seemed two steps away from crumbling. You wanted to help him, to fill in every fissure of his cracked heart with your presence until the very idea of Cazador was gone from his being, but you still felt too diseased yourself. When your fingers itched to reach out and comfort him when you’d notice the foggy haze of the past clouding over his eyes, you’d instead lift them to scratch at your burning bearer’s mark.

And bless him, Astarion had asked you about the tattoo one night after you had let him feed from you. You two were lying side-by-side as you gazed up into the vast blanket of stars, and there was a comfortable silence between you two that had only been broken by the question. He made no immediate comment even though you knew he felt you tense up next to him and you greatly appreciated it, especially knowing his penchant for starting trouble and watching others flounder in it. Before you could even attempt to think quickly on your feet, his hand had snuck down between your bodies to grab yours, and you were the one linking your fingers, squeezing his grip as the tension left your body. Only when he felt you fully relaxed did he assure you that that sounded like a topic better suited for another time. Your clasped hands never let go, even as you two fell asleep.

When your travels had brought the party to Baldur’s Gate, it was a chaotic mess with people wedged into any and every crevice. There were murderous cultists, sneaky thieves, and Astarion’s “sibling” spawns lurking about. The vampire tried his hardest to appear unaffected by the warnings, and he was successful to those on the outside looking in, but the tadpole connection was a deeper rooted relationship that proved nearly impossible to withdraw from. His emotions were a waged war, going back and forth and back again, and you so badly wanted to reach out and grab his hand to comfort him just as he did for you, but you had the same suspicion that this was a topic better suited for another time.

But you felt it, boy did you feel it through your connection… The same haunting feeling that clung to your bones, the chronic illness that stiffened your joints and left you too restrained in your own body, the horrific notion that you would never really belong to yourself, not ever again. Astarion’s back was rigid the entire way to camp, all traces of his charismatic aura gone. He was on edge, and would remain so forever until his Master was defeated, releasing him from the invisible chains still binding him. The rest of the party knew well enough to give him space (though everyone pretty much had their own problems they were in the middle of overcoming), but you would not leave him to wallow in the burning itch to go forth and rip, tear, kill…

You had the sense to bump up the urgency of seeking out Cazador’s lair and striking him down in Astarion’s name… but if he was as powerful as led to believe, and if there would be a chance of losing each other, that night wouldn’t be for Cazador, it would be for you and your love for Astarion, for him and his love for you. If he required a night of distraction to get him to the impending final showdown the next day, you would offer whatever he needed; If he needed blood, if he needed words, if he needed your body… With each gentle kiss that you placed on his skin, he seemed a little less further away. And as you watched him cum and was immediately brought to your own peak as well, you knew then that you would do anything to free this beautiful man.

You let that thought guide you as Astarion was forced under Cazador’s influence once more. The sight of him entrapped in the red beacon of his Master’s control had petrified you. To reach his full Ascension, Cazador had to absorb the special spawns’ life source, reducing them to a pile of ash, and you were paranoid with each attack he unleashed, each time he opened his mouth, that he would utter the spell to take Astarion away from you. When you could no longer withstand the mental torment, you raised your hand, and watched the magic crackle to life at your fingertips. Your cheek was burning, and you could see from your peripheral that your lightning-shaped mark was glowing, but you didn’t let it dissuade you. You were on a mission to save your lover, and you would use everything in your arsenal to do it, including your magic, even if it crystalized you in the process.

Your party members were thoroughly surprised to see you casting spells, but you couldn’t focus on that, not when Cazador was staggering on bended knee before attempting to rush back to his coffin. As Astarion dropped to the ground, he wasted no time in chasing after to peel the lid away before Cazador could begin healing himself. A weight lifted from your own chest when Astarion drove a dagger through his biggest nightmare over and over until his own sobbing pain began bleeding dry. He was free… and you will be, too…

As you stiffly knelt at Cazador’s dead body, right beside Astarion– always beside Astarion– you cupped his cheek with one hand, and grabbed the back of his neck with the other before bringing him into the sweetest of kisses. You scratched at the hairs at the base of his neck and before you could talk yourself out of it, you released all of your memories through your connection. You felt his gasp on your lips, but you pressed on, he deserved to know your biggest secret considering he shared his with you. He needed to know that you saw him… far deeper that he originally knew. You could taste his tears even after he pulled away.

“Oh darling…” Astarion whispered, his throat raw from screaming himself hoarse while boiling over, “I hate that you understand a little more than others… and I hate that such a beautiful soul like yourself has been bruised so heavily.”

You sagged into him before hugging him tightly. He began petting your hair and cooing praises into your ear, pressing an occasional kiss to your forehead every so often. You eventually craned your neck and caught his lips into a kiss, and if he couldn’t sense the love through it, you made sure to spread the warmth through your tadpole connection. His lips curled into a smile wide enough to break the kiss before he collected himself enough to pepper a handful of quick kisses onto your own bashfully grinning mouth.

“You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me–well…” His eyes momentarily cut down to Cazador’s body before meeting yours unwaveringly. “And I would continue to love you lifetimes after you were gone, only hoping you would return to me again someday.”

He dropped a reverent kiss to the back of your hand, brought you into one last searing kiss, and moved to stand, helping you up as he went. Astarion had a way of making you feel so safe and loved, even when exposing yourself, your body and your secrets. He would always assure you that he has his own skeletons in his closet… but at least they were finely dressed might he add.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 shadowheart #baldur's gate headcannons #bg3 astarion #bg3 shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x reader #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion x reader #prompt fill #ao3 fanfic #writeblr #shadowheart #astarion #astarion ancunin #i hope this makes sense #i hope this is okay! #final fantasy #bearers #bearer's mark #lightning shaped scar #scars #binding tattoo #mentions of violence #mentions of abuse

[badnewswhatsleft]

2023 september - rock sound #300 (fall out boy cover) scans

transcript below cut!

WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE

With the triumphant ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ capturing a whole new generation of fans, Fall Out Boy are riding high, celebrating their past while looking towards a bright future. Pete Wentz and Patrick Stump reflect on recent successes and the lessons learned from two decades of writing and performing together.

WORDS: James Wilson-Taylor PHOTOS: Elliot Ingham

You have just completed a US summer tour that included stadium shows and some of your most ambitious production to date. What were your aims going into this particular show?

PETE: Playing stadiums is a funny thing. I pushed pretty hard to do a couple this time because I think that the record Patrick came up with musically lends itself to that feeling of being part of something larger than yourself. When we were designing the cover to the album, it was meant to be all tangible, which was a reaction to tokens and skins that you can buy and avatars. The title is made out of clay, and the painting is an actual painting. We wanted to approach the show in that way as well. We’ve been playing in front of a gigantic video wall for the past eight years. Now, we wanted a stage show where you could actually walk inside it.

Did adding the new songs from ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ into the setlist change the way you felt about them?

PATRICK: One of the things that was interesting about the record was that we took a lot of time figuring out what it was going to be, what it was going to sound like. We experimented with so many different things. I was instantly really proud. I felt really good about this record but it wasn’t until we got on stage and you’re playing the songs in between our catalogue that I really felt that. It was really noticeable from the first day on this tour - we felt like a different band. There’s a new energy to it. There was something that I could hear live that I couldn’t hear before.

You also revisited a lot of older tracks and b-sides on this tour, including many from the ‘Folie à Deux’-era. What prompted those choices?

PETE: There were some lean years where there weren’t a lot of rock bands being played on pop radio or playing award shows so we tried to play the biggest songs, the biggest versions of them. We tried to make our thing really airtight, bulletproof so that when we played next to whoever the top artist was, people were like, ‘oh yeah, they should be here.’ The culture shift in the world is so interesting because now, maybe rather than going wider, it makes more sense to go deeper with people. We thought about that in the way that we listen to music and the way we watch films. Playing a song that is a b-side or barely made a record but is someone’s favourite song makes a lot of sense in this era. PATRICK: I think there also was a period there where, to Pete’s point, it was a weird time to be a rock band. We had this very strange thing that happened to us, and not a lot of our friends for some reason, where we had a bunch of hits, right? And it didn’t make any sense to me. It still doesn’t make sense to me. But there was a kind of novelty, where we could play a whole set of songs that a lot of people know. It was fun and rewarding for us to do that. But then you run the risk of playing the same set forever. I want to love the songs that we play. I want to care about it and put passion into what we do. And there’s no sustainable way to just do the same thing every night and not get jaded. We weren’t getting there but I really wanted to make sure that we don’t ever get there. PETE: In the origin of Fall Out Boy, what happened at our concerts was we knew how to play five songs really fast and jumped off walls and the fire marshal would shut it down. It was what made the show memorable, but we wanted to be able to last and so we tried to perfect our show and the songs and the stage show and make it flawless. Then you don’t really know how much spontaneity you want to include, because something could go wrong. When we started this tour, and we did a couple of spontaneous things, it opened us up to more. Because things did go wrong and that’s what made the show special. We’re doing what is the most punk rock version of what we could be doing right now.

You seem generally a lot more comfortable celebrating your past success at this point in your career.

PETE: I think it’s actually not a change from our past. I love those records, but I never want to treat them in a cynical way. I never want there to be a wink and a smile where we’re just doing this because it’s the anniversary. This was us celebrating these random songs and we hope people celebrate them with us. There was a purity to it that felt in line with how we’ve always felt about it. I love ‘Folie à Deux’ - out of any Fall Out Boy record that’s probably the one I would listen to. But I just never want it to be done in a cynical way, where we feel like we have to. But celebrating it in a way where there’s the purity of how we felt when we wrote the song originally, I think that’s fucking awesome. PATRICK: Music is a weird art form. Because when you’re an actor and you play a character, that is a specific thing. James Bond always wears a suit and has a gun and is a secret agent. If you change one thing, that’s fine, but you can’t really change all of it. But bands are just people. You are yourself. People get attached to it like it’s a story but it’s not. That was always something that I found difficult. For the story, it’s always good to say, ‘it’s the 20th anniversary, let’s go do the 20th anniversary tour’, that’s a good story thing. But it’s not always honest. We never stopped playing a lot of the songs from ‘Take This To Your Grave’, right? So why would I need to do a 20-year anniversary and perform all the songs back to back? The only reason would be because it would probably sell a lot of tickets and I don’t really ever want to be motivated by that, frankly. One of the things that’s been amazing is that now as the band has been around for a while, we have different layers of audience. I love ‘Folie à Deux’, I do. I love that record. But I had a really personally negative experience of touring on it. So that’s what I think of when I think of that record initially. It had to be brought back to me for me to appreciate it, for me to go, ‘oh, this record is really great. I should be happy with this. I should want to play this.’ So that’s why we got into a lot of the b-sides because we realised that our perspectives on a lot of these songs were based in our feelings and experiences from when we were making them. But you can find new experiences if you play those songs. You can make new memories with them.

You alluded there to the 20th anniversary of ‘Take This To Your Grave’. Obviously you have changed and developed as a band hugely since then. But is there anything you can point to about making that debut record that has remained a part of your process since then?

PETE: We have a language, the band, and it’s definitely a language of cinema and film. That’s maintained through time. We had very disparate music tastes and influences but I think film was a place we really aligned. You could have a deep discussion because none of us were filmmakers. You could say which part was good and which part sucked and not hurt anybody’s feelings, because you weren’t going out to make a film the next day. Whereas with music, I think if we’d only had that to talk about, we would have turned out a different band. PATRICK: ‘Take This To Your Grave’, even though it’s absolutely our first record, there’s an element of it that’s still a work in progress. It is still a band figuring itself out. Andy wasn’t even officially in the band for half of the recording, right? I wasn’t even officially the guitar player for half of the recording. We were still bumbling through it. There was something that popped up a couple times throughout that record where you got these little inklings of who the band really was. We really explored that on ‘From Under The Cork Tree’. So when we talk about what has remained the same… I didn’t want to be a singer, I didn’t know anything about singing, I wasn’t planning on that. I didn’t even plan to really be in this band for that long because Pete had a real band that really toured so I thought this was gonna be a side project. So there’s always been this element within the band where I don’t put too many expectations on things and then Pete has this really big ambition, creatively. There’s this great interplay between the two of us where I’m kind of oblivious, and I don’t know when I’m putting out a big idea and Pete has this amazing vision to find what goes where. There’s something really magical about that because I never could have done a band like this without it. We needed everybody, we needed all four of us. And I think that’s the thing that hasn’t changed - the four of us just being ourselves and trying to figure things out. Listening back to ‘Folie’ or ‘Infinity On High’ or ‘American Beauty’, I’m always amazed at how much better they are than I remember. I listened to ‘MANIA’ the other day, and I have a lot of misgivings about that record, a lot of things I’m frustrated about. But then I’m listening to it and I’m like ‘this is pretty good.’ There’s a lot of good things in there. I don’t know why, it’s kind of like you can’t see those things. It’s kind of amazing to have Pete be able to see those things. And likewise, sometimes Pete has no idea when he writes something brilliant, as a lyricist, and I have to go, ‘No, I’m gonna keep that one, I’m gonna use that.’

On ‘So Much (For) Stardust’, you teamed up with producer Neal Avron again for the first time since 2008. Given how much time has passed, did it take a minute to reestablish that connection or did you pick up where you left off?

PATRICK: It really didn’t feel like any time had passed between us and Neal. It was pretty seamless in terms of working with him. But then there was also the weird aspect where the last time we worked with him was kind of contentious. Interpersonally, the four of us were kind of fighting with each other… as much as we do anyway. We say that and then that myth gets built bigger than it was. We were always pretty cool with each other. It’s just that the least cool was making ‘Folie’. So then getting into it again for this record, it was like no time has passed as people but the four of us got on better so we had more to bring to Neal. PETE: It’s a little bit like when you return to your parents’ house for a holiday break when you’re in college. It’s the same house but now I can drink with my parents. We’d grown up and the first times we worked with Neal, he had to do so much more boy scout leadership, ‘you guys are all gonna be okay, we’re gonna do this activity to earn this badge so you guys don’t fucking murder each other.’ This time, we probably got a different version of Neal that was even more creative, because he had to do less psychotherapy. He went deep too. Sometimes when you’re in a session with somebody, and they’re like, ‘what are we singing about?’, I’ll just be like, ‘stuff’. He was not cool with ‘stuff’. I would get up and go into the bathroom outside the studio and look in the mirror, and think ‘what is it about? How deep are we gonna go?’ That’s a little but scarier to ask yourself. If last time Neal was like a boy scout leader, this time, it was more like a Sherpa. He was helping us get to the summit.

The title track of the album also finds you in a very reflective mood, even bringing back lyrics from ‘Love From The Other Side’. How would you describe the meaning behind that title and the song itself?

PETE: The record title has a couple of different meanings, I guess. The biggest one to me is that we basically all are former stars. That’s what we’re made of, those pieces of carbon. It still feels like the world’s gonna blow and it’s all moving too fast and the wrong things are moving too slow. That track in particular looks back at where you sometimes wish things had gone differently. But this is more from the perspective of when you’re watching a space movie, and they’re too far away and they can’t quite make it back. It doesn’t matter what they do and at some point, the astronaut accepts that. But they’re close enough that you can see the look on their face. I feel like there’s moments like that in the title track. I wish some things were different. But, as an adult going through this, you are too far away from the tether, and you’re just floating into space. It is sad and lonely but in some ways, it’s kind of freeing, because there’s other aspects of our world and my life that I love and that I want to keep shaping and changing. PATRICK: I’ll open up Pete’s lyrics and I just start hearing things. It almost feels effortless in a lot of ways. I just read his lyrics and something starts happening in my head. The first line, ‘I’m in a winter mood, dreaming of spring now’, instantly the piano started to form to me. That was a song that I came close to not sending to the band. When I make demos, I’ll usually wait until I have five or six to send to everybody. I didn’t know if anyone was gonna like this. It’s too moody or it’s not very us. But it was pretty unanimous. Everyone liked that one. I knew this had to end the record. It took on a different life in the context of the whole album. Then on the bridge section, I knew it was going to be the lyrics from ‘Love From The Other Side’. It’s got to come back here. It’s the bookends, but I also love lyrically what it does, you know, ‘in another life, you were my babe’, going back to that kind of regret, which feels different in ‘Love From The Other Side’ than it does here. When the whole song came together, it was the statement of the record.

Aside from the album, you have released a few more recent tracks that have opened you up to a whole new audience, most notably the collaboration with Taylor Swift on ‘Electric Touch’.

PETE: Taylor is the only artist that I’ve met or interacted with in recent times who creates exactly the art of who she is, but does it on such a mass level. So that’s breathtaking to watch from the sidelines. The way fans traded friendship bracelets, I don’t know what the beginning of it was, but you felt that everywhere. We felt that, I saw that in the crowd on our tour. I don’t know Taylor well, but I think she’s doing exactly what she wants and creating exactly the art that she wants to create. And doing that, on such a level, is really awe-inspiring to watch. It makes you want to make the biggest, weirdest version of our thing and put that out there.

Then there was the cover of Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’, which has had some big chart success for you. That must have taken you slightly by surprise.

PATRICK: It’s pretty unexpected. Pete and I were going back and forth about songs we should cover and that was an idea that I had. This is so silly but there was a song a bunch of years ago I had written called ‘Dark Horse’ and then there was a Katy Perry song called ‘Dark Horse’ and I was like, ‘damn it’, you know, I missed the boat on that one. So I thought if we don’t do this cover, somebody else is gonna do it. Let’s just get in the studio and just do it. We spent way more time on those lyrics than you would think because we really wanted to get a specific feel. It was really fun and kind of loose, we just came together in Neal’s house and recorded it in a day. PETE: There’s irreverence to it. I thought the coolest thing was when Billy Joel got asked about it, and he was like, ‘I’m not updating it, that’s fine, go for it.’ I hope if somebody ever chose to update one of ours, we’d be like that. Let them do their thing, they’ll have that version. I thought that was so fucking cool.

It’s also no secret that the sound you became most known for in the mid-2000s is having something of a commercial revival right now. But what is interesting is seeing how bands are building on that sound and changing it.

PATRICK: I love when anybody does anything that feels honest to them. Touring with Bring Me The Horizon, it was really cool seeing what’s natural to them. It makes sense. We changed our sound over time but we were always going to do that. It wasn’t a premeditated thing but for the four of us, it would have been impossible to maintain making the same kind of music forever. Whereas you’ll play with some other bands and they live that one sound. You meet up with them for dinner or something and they’re wearing the shirt of the band that sounds just like their band. You go to their house and they’re playing other bands that sound like them because they live in that thing. Whereas with the four of us and bands like Bring Me The Horizon, we change our sounds over time. And there’s nothing wrong with either. The only thing that’s wrong is if it’s unnatural to you. If you’re AC/DC and all of a sudden power ballads are in and you’re like, ‘Okay, we’ve got to do a power ballad’, that’s when it sucks. But if you’re a thrash metal guy who likes Celine Dion then yeah, do a power ballad. Emo as a word doesn’t mean anything anymore. But if people want to call it that, if the emo thing is back or having another life again, if that’s what’s natural to an artist, I think the world needs more earnest art. If that’s who you are, then do it. PETE: It would be super egotistical to think that the wave that started with us and My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco has just been circling and cycling back. I  remember seeing Nikki Sixx at the airport and he was like, ‘Oh, you’re doing a flaming bass? Mine came from a backpack.’ It keeps coming back but it looks different. Talking to Lil Uzi Vert and Juice WRLD when he was around, it’s so interesting, because it’s so much bigger than just emo or whatever. It’s this whole big pop music thing that’s spinning and churning, and then it moves on, and then it comes back with different aspects and some of the other stuff combined. When you’re a fan of music and art and film, you take different stuff, you add different ingredients, because that’s your taste. Seeing the bands that are up and coming to me, it’s so exciting, because the rules are just different, right? It’s really cool to see artists that lean into the weirdness and lean into a left turn when everyone’s telling you to make a right. That’s so refreshing. PATRICK: It’s really important as an artist gets older to not put too much stock in your own influence. The moment right now that we’re in is bigger than emo and bigger than whatever was happening in 2005. There’s a great line in ‘Downton Abbey’ where someone was asking the Lord about owning this manor and he’s like, ‘well, you don’t really own it, there have been hundreds of owners and you are the custodian of it for a brief time.’ That’s what pop music is like. You just have the ball for a minute and you’re gonna pass it on to somebody else.

We will soon see you in the UK for your arena tour. How do you reflect on your relationship with the fans over here?

PETE: I remember the first time we went to the UK, I wasn’t prepared for how culturally different it was. When we played Reading & Leeds and the summer festivals, it was so different, and so much deeper within the culture. It was a little bit of a shock. The first couple of times we played, I was like, ‘Oh, my God, are we gonna die?’ because the crowd was so crazy, and there was bottles. Then when we came back, we thought maybe this is a beast to be tamed. Finally, you realise it’s a trading of energy. That made the last couple of festivals we played so fucking awesome. When you really realise that the fans over there are real fans of music. It’s really awesome and pretty beautiful. PATRICK: We’ve played the UK now more than a lot of regions of the states. Pretty early on, I just clicked with it. There were differences, cultural things and things that you didn’t expect. But it never felt that different or foreign to me, just a different flavour… PETE: This is why me and Patrick work so well together (laughs).  PATRICK: Well, listen; I’m a rainy weather guy. There is just things that I get there. I don’t really drink anymore all that much. But I totally will have a beer in the UK, there’s something different about every aspect of it, about the ordering of it, about the flavour of it, everything, it’s like a different vibe. The UK audience seemed to click with us too. There have been plenty of times where we felt almost more like a UK band than an American one. There have been years where you go there and almost get a more familial reaction than you would at home. Rock Sound has always been a part of that for us. It was one of the first magazines to care about us and the first magazine to do real interviews. That’s the thing, you would do all these interviews and a lot of them would be like ‘so where did the band’s name come from?’ But Rock Sound took us seriously as artists, maybe before some of us did. That actually made us think about who we are and that was a really cool experience. I think in a lot of ways, we wouldn’t be the band we are without the UK, because I think it taught us a lot about what it is to be yourself.

Fall Out Boy’s ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ is out now via Fueled By Ramen.

#the cover is so funny. like theyre cute but that is genuinely bug angle. that is bugs under a rock angle. THEYRE ALREADY SHORT KINGS #fall out boy #pete wentz #patrick stump #andy hurley #joe trohman #time capsule #read the charts #ANYWAY GO HERE. GO READ HERE. BECAUSE I SPENT A LONG TIME TRANSCRIBING EVEN THO TRNASNCRIBING SUCKKSSS #i looped the spell soundtrack like 5 times and got jusmpscared by track9 every time. and then i put on smfs<3 #patrick's comments about the mythologising of fob lore is so interesting #listen baby i know ur fed up and it's not ur fault but u have to understand. the story of ur band is on some genuine fanfic ass other level #the way they talk about neal avron is sooo funny #imagine being producer for this young band. and theyre brilliant but theyre also twentysomethings(derogatory) #also the way pete talks abt swift. lol. also why does he answer the q when patrick was the one in the studio lol??? #ALSO also. pete being afraid of british ppl (valid and true) #and patrick pretty much taking to the uk like a duck to water (also valid and tru) is sooo funny #i rlly liked this interview i wiiiiish i got the bundle w the photobook and whatever but i was way too late :(((((((((

[vampiric-hunger]

⊱─ 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Cazador Szarr x f!reader the vampire bride

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - e, smut, consensual somnophilia, anal sex, choking, vaginal fingering, hair-pulling, degradation (mild), spanking, creampies (many of them), blowjob, praise kink, cock worship, begging, facials, cum swallowing, PiV, masturbation, cunnilingus, nipple play, overstimulation, forced orgasm, blood drinking, biting, exhibitionism, throne sex, reverse voyeurism, somehow a loving relationship, vampires being vampires, there's so much porn just accept it

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Cazador Szarr loves having power over people, especially over you, his wife. and he won't relent until you know well and truly - you are his.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 11,938

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: listen, don't ask me what happened here, just blame the influence of my friends and well, Cazador himself. this is extremely long, messy in the best possible way and very very horny. enjoy <3

You’re unaware and asleep when he wakes with a flinch. Although he’s not really waking but rather snapping out of his meditations that took him to mind-planes he didn’t want. In the darkness of the bedroom Cazador is laying still while his eyes focus on the canopy of the bed. But then you move in your sleep, brushing against his arm and vampire finally snaps out of his thoughts, turning his head to look at your form lying next to him. His bride that he was promised in marriage and one he turned into his vampiric bride on the night of your wedding. He didn’t even try to convince you, he just pinned you down and killed you, then helped you rise again, different but immortally beautiful.

You fought a lot in the beginning. You blamed him for attacking you and he wanted you to just shut up, but as decades began to wear down, you, somehow, unbelievably, learned to love each other. For better or for worse, and maybe because you two were stuck with each other, but your marriage turned from constant shouting matches, destroyed furniture and killing sprees to utter and blinding obsession. He couldn’t even lock you up in a cage and toss you into the dungeons because your very powerful family could show up at the palace any day.

You both hated each other. And now you can barely spend a moment apart.

As he lies in bed, Cazador remembers the lessons of Vellioth the Martinet and his lips pull into a sneer at the spite of his own weakness, but then he sees your naked back turned to him, a blanket only covering your body up to your waist and his spite vanishes like a whisp of perfume from a passing Lady. His hand reaches out and his palm caresses your hip under the cover. You stir at his touch but don’t wake, exhausted from last day. There were preparations for an elaborate meeting that will happen tonight and while Chamberlain usually takes care of that, you yourself insisted on supervising everything this time. So you stayed up way too late, until you had to keep yourself pressed to the wall just to avoid the rising sun seeping through the gaps in heavy curtains while on your way to the bedroom.

Cazador was asleep, slumbering in his vampiric rest when you came in, so he didn’t have a chance to have you all for himself. Addicted to making a mess out of you, he always tries to find time in your busy schedules just for that. And now that you’re in the bed, resting in your own healing sleep, so vulnerable while your body is inviting him to take it, he’s not sure if he should even try resisting the temptation. After all, he’s not going to let more than a day pass without reminding you that he’s your Lord and husband in every way possible.

He narrows his eyes, lustful gaze now traveling down your back and his caresses on your rear become more demanding, more eager and Cazador smirks to himself, knowing that he has ownership of your body even when you’re unaware. After a moment longer he pulls his hand from your skin and gives his already throbbing cock couple strokes, red eyes scanning your sleeping form as if deciding how best to take you, urged by his need to remind you that you belong to him.

With a grin he pushes his body closer to your back, not touching you just yet but positioning himself. He gently rests his already weeping from need cock between the mounds of your rear and moves one hand over you, his long fingers finding your throat and feeling no pulse. He’s meticulous in his preparation, making sure that his arm will prevent you from trying to reach him when you wake. With the other hand Cazador grips the base of his cock and watches himself position the tip of his length against your back entrance, rubbing it with his dick and smearing his precum there to make his invasion smoother. His eyes drift to you for a second and he raises his head, to check if you’re still deep in your slumber and after confirming that you are he grins again, squeezing your neck increasingly harder and beginning to push his dick into your tight hole. You stir for a moment, murmuring in your unconscious and grip the pillow your head rests on tighter, quickly waking now because Cazador is not going slow. It takes him a second to push half his length into your ass and you snap out of your sleep, confused and dazed, with a loud gasp.

“What’s-“ you begin but your husband’s squeeze on your throat cuts you off. You take a moment to look around and moan softly when Cazador buries himself to the root within you. At the same time you feel his arm at the bottom move between you and then knit in your hair, pulling backwards. He looks at you with a cruel smirk.

“Good evening, pet.” Cazador whispers and you part your lips to speak, still feeling confused but then he begins thrusting, slow only for two strokes, and you finally realize what’s going on, letting out a sigh. “Now, now.” he whispers against your ear with a low voice that resembles a growl. “ No need to struggle, you’re mine to play with.”

You smile in response and his grip on your throat relents, allowing you to moan with his pumps and you grip the pillow tighter. You don’t see Cazador’s eyes watching you coldly but intensively, a predatory smile pulling at his lips as he listens to the noises you make. He moves his leg and increases the power of his thrusts, taking you harder, clearly not caring if you’re hurting and making sure you’re aware that he’s in control here.

“That’s it, submit to me.” he grunts against your ear, watching your face as if he’s looking for signs of your disobedience.

In response you arch your back, keeping your hips in place and you grin, your face flushed now and your eyes heavy lidded, obviously enjoying him fuck your ass because you don’t make a single sound of protest, melting into his grip on your throat. You like it when he uses you like this, makes you his, reminds you that there’s nobody else for you except him. He didn’t even bother waking you, this is perfect, and you moan every time he plunges his cock deeply into you. Your cunt is drenched from your desire and you feel pleasant throbbing of lust between your legs increasing with each stroke into your ass.

Cazador’s hips snap against you in fast, powerful rhythm, pushing his cock into you with force that amuses even him but eventually you feel his grip on your throat tighten almost involuntarily as he begins to lose himself in the sensation. You bite your lower lip and throw your leg back, draping it over his to allow your husband even better access to your hole and you grope the sheets, trying to find his other hand, forgetting that it’s tangled in your hair. But Cazador sees what you’re doing and he releases your hair although not your throat, now pushing his arm under your waist and letting you grasp his wrist, letting you lead his fingers to your clit, showing him what exactly you want from him.

“So needy.” Cazador comments with a breathy voice, but he doesn’t pull back his hand.

Instead he begins massaging and teasing your clit, making you moan even louder now while he resumes his thrusts into your ass, his fingers gripping your throat in almost punishing manner but making sure that you can still make your sweet noises for him.

“Fuck… Fuck… Harder!” you cry out, completely awake now and enjoying every second of this. Your fingers grip the sheets but you don’t even hear that your nails rip through them even though Cazador sees it and he grins, satisfied with the power he has over you in this moment.

“Harder?” vampire’s voice is a low, lustful growl as he complies, slowing his pace but increasing the power behind his thrusts, slamming into your ass with force that makes you feel like your back is about to break, but you can sense that your lover is fighting to maintain control over himself while he plunges himself in and almost fully out of your tight ass in controlled pace.

You cry out in response to his forceful pounding, sensing that his fingers stopped circling your clit. You want to protest and beg him to continue but you can’t even form words, let alone speak. But then you feel Cazador’s hand leave your throat and his thrusts stop just before there’s an arm around your waist and he flips you onto your stomach, tangling a hand into your hair once more and pushing your face into the pillow to the point you can barely breathe, not that you need to actually do that but right now you forget even this as you gasp against the fabric.

“Take it, obediently.” Cazador demands, his voice rough from lust and then your face gets pulled out the pillow by your hair, making you let out a sensual sigh.

You open your eyes and try to say something but you don’t get the chance because his hips snap forward once more, slamming into you with force that leaves you dizzy. You moan when he continues pounding into your tight hole and you smile, your face showing pure ecstasy as you do, completely dick-drunk already.

“You feel so good.” you gasp and Cazador pulls your hair back even more, forcing your spine make a bend that’s almost unbearable while you grip onto the pillow again, and yet you buck your hips against him, wanting even more of him. “Deeper…” you whine like a whore while you use fingers of your hand that’s under you to find your clit and begin rubbing it.

Cazador smirks to himself when he hears you begging. He’s satisfied that you’re so willing, but you are always willing for him. In a moment you feel his hand find a better position by your side and his thrusts pick up pace again becoming supernaturally strong. You never experienced sex like this when you were alive and you wouldn’t exchange this for anything.

“You like it rough, don’t you.” he taunts coldly even though his voice is laced with tones of pleasure and you know he’s enjoying this.

“You know it, love.” you gasp out your response with a smile and hear him chuckle breathily behind you while he continues his assault on your body.

“You’re such a compliant slut.” Cazador growls between his harsh breaths and lets go of your hair only to smack your ass in a painful manner. You gasp against the pillow but smile when the sting only makes your pleasure in this moment bigger.

“Is that so?” you reply with a smirk, taking his cock with satisfaction, just like you always do, even when he’s rough with you. Actually, you prefer it this way.

“You’ve always been such a whore for me.” your husband is audibly struggling to speak, his voice is rough and he’s panting heavily now, you only wish you could see his face in this moment. At the end of his words he slaps your ass again, harder this time, another painful sting only elevating your sensations. You’re close to your orgasm and Cazador has fucked you enough times to know this.

Sensing your approaching climax Cazador keeps his controlled attack on your ass, his hips snapping forward with force that leaves no doubt that your enjoyment is only a secondary thing in this situation. The hand that he used to slap your rear is in your hair again and he pushes your head back into the pillow, using your skull as support, letting it bear the weight with no concern if it’s hurting you.

“You’re such a worthless wretch.” vampire growls a snarl and that’s all you need.

With a shout you cum at his words, your body now trembling and shuddering while your hole squeezes his cock so hard it urges Cazador to his own release. And he begins spilling his seed deep into your ass, letting your body milk him of every last drop while he pants loudly, managing only couple more labored thrusts before he stops, out of breath. He takes a moment, bent over you and when you begin to come back to the room you feel sweat drops fall from his face and onto your back. He must be a beautiful sight right now.

You try to catch your breath, resting and enjoying the fullness that he’s providing you with, completely incapable of forming thoughts or words. After all, being filled by Cazador is your favorite thing and in this moment you are completely content.

But then you feel Cazador roughly pull his dick out of your ass and you’re tugged by your hair now, moved from lying like a doll before you can even gather your bearings, and get brough to his kneeling form, scrambling on all fours for him. You lift your eyes and finally see his face, drenched in sweat, his hair messy and a cruel smile on his lips. With another tug he brings your face to his cock, pressing your nose and mouth against it, his cum still covering his shaft and you know immediately what he wants you to do even if you’re still dazed.

You open your mouth and hang out your tongue, letting him move your head and drag your tongue along his length, your eyes never leaving his. When he brings your face back down you take initiative and begin licking his cock, putting your best effort to clean it thoroughly while you still try to collect yourself after the orgasm.

Cazador groans softly while you work your tongue and leans his head back, closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh and a smirk.

“Such a good little slut.” he praises and you feel his cock twitch, getting roused once more at your ministrations and beginning to harden. Vampiric stamina, of course he’s nearly ready to go again but so are you.

With a small grin you use the chance when his grip in your hair loosens just a bit and wrap your mouth around his dick, forcing him to remain kneeling as you begin to suck on his length exactly how he taught you, keeping your eyes on his face, but this time wanting to see pleasure etched in his features. Cazador moves his head and his blazing gaze meets yours while he watches you suck him off.

“You enjoy being used so much.” vampire comments in a low tone and finally releases your hair, stroking your cheek that’s still lightly smeared with his cum. This touch is gentle and possessive at the same time.

In response you hum positively and swirl your tongue against the tip of his cock then go down the length, using your tongue to trail against the veins and then back up, around the head of his dick. Cazador’s breathing increases again as he watches you, his thumb still softly rubbing your cheek, yet his eyes become glazed with satisfaction and you see a glint of genuine affection in his eyes as you worship his cock. And after all, he’s not wrong, you love being used by him, but only by him. You don’t want any other man in a way you want him, with something deeply primal that’s feral. You want to be his forever and you want him to be yours for eternity.

“You’re always so eager to please.” your husband comments almost as if he’s talking to himself, watching you with hooded eyes. “I like that. Never have I thought that I will like fucking you this much.” Cazador says and just as his cock twitches with a promise once more, he pulls you off of him by your hair.

You gasp and sit on your heels, your face upturned to him and deep craving in your eyes. He cannot tell if that hunger is for blood or him, maybe both. He just grins and releases your hair again, now grasping the base of his length and strokes it across your lips, leaving a trail of his seeping cum in its wake. His eyes study your face, seeing the hunger clearly expressed there and the grin he offers carries a degree of sharpness in it.

“Tell me you want it.” he commands and you nod quickly.

“Yes, my love.” you beg and lick your lips, tasting his seed and having to resist your desire to move for his length while he teases you. It’s just your eyes that move from his face to his shaft, being held still by his fingers.

Cazador chuckles and it would sound menacing to everyone else but you. His thumb traces the line of your lips.

“You’re such a pathetic little whore. So hungry for my cock, are you not?” he taunts, there’s no softness in his tone and it sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. It sounds almost like hatred and you know that what he hates is how much he needs you, so you just smile to him.

“Please.” you whisper earnestly and try to lick the weeping tip that’s so close to your mouth but he does not let you. With a cruel grin he stops touching your lips and gives his cock couple strokes.

“Open.” Cazador demands and you part your lips widely, expecting him to thrust his dick deep into your throat and finish there, craving for it even, but instead of that you watch him pump his length couple more times and you only have time to lift your eyes to his burning gaze before he starts spilling himself once more but this time right across your face.

You gasp in surprise and close your eyes, feeling streaks of his cool cum covering your skin and dripping down your face, towards your mouth. You hear his groan and finally open your eyes, Cazador gratefully avoided them while making a mess out of the rest of your face, and you greedily lick your lips then press your tongue against the tip of his cock, gathering last pearly drops that are leaking out. Cazador watches you for a moment with dark and hungry eyes then again he grabs a handful of your hair and jerks your head back, forcing your face upwards so that he can watch his seed slowly drip down your face.

“You’re such a filthy little slut.” he says in another lustful growl and you smile happily at him, licking your lips and tasting more of his seed. He truly taught you how to love his control over you, how to crave it and this alone leaves you dripping with wetness. You’re not satisfied, not yet.

Cazador smirks when he sees devotion in your eyes, then lets go of your hair and steps out of the bed, walking to the side and snatching a napkin from the desk. While you wait for him to return you run your fingertips across your face, painting them with his seed and licking at them eagerly, hungry for everything he has to offer you.

When the vampire returns to the bedside he tosses the napkin in your direction and you swiftly catch it with a smile.

“All done then?” you ask as you begin to wipe your face clean and Cazador remains silent for a moment, thinking, then smirks at you.

“I think you’re ready for another round.” he says arrogantly and when you look in his direction you see that he has his cock in his hand again, stroking it, getting harder by the second. Your cunt aches at the sight and you realize he’s right – you are more than ready for him again. For just a moment you wonder what got him so in the mood but you’re not going to complain. “Lie down, legs open, pup.”

Cazador’s command is clear and you wouldn’t dream of disobeying it. You quickly finish wiping your face and toss the napkin on the floor, then crawl to the center of the bed and lie on your back, spreading your legs and your folds for him. He observes you for a long moment, watching your glistening juices leaking out of your core, beckoning him to take yet another plunge into your body and his smirk widens when he sees your eager expression.

“I never tire of seeing you like this.” he hums more to himself than to you and gets into bed, crawling on top of you while clearly enjoying the sight of you so eager to please him. “Higher, pet.” Cazador demands and you lift your legs and when he leans in closer they end up against his chest, your ankles against his shoulders for a moment before he grins and leans in deeper, bending you nearly in half. “Good.”

You whine under the pressure of his body but smile to him, ready to be claimed once more. You love being his toy, his plaything, his to use, there’s something about your husband that you discovered absolutely loving – his power over people, yourself included.

“Just one more time, dear.” Cazador hums and you feel his shaft press against your soaking cunt, pause and then plunge into you with force, burying himself in you completely.

In response you cry out, watching his eyes study your flushed face and you grip the sheets under your head. The angle is almost painful with how he takes you, but you enjoy the sensation nonetheless.

“I love you.” you gasp when he begins thrusting into you, his skin slapping against yours, your mind feeling clouded from renewed pleasure once more. Cazador’s eyes flash with amusement at your words and he smirks.

“You love the pain.” he responds because he knows you’re becoming sore from getting your body used like this and you blush harder.

He hates saying the words even if you know that he loves you, in his own way. You don’t mind, he shows his care in different ways, such as this, making sure that you’re satisfied even if he’s pushing you to your limit. And you know there’s something on his mind but you don’t dare ask, he’ll tell you if he wants to.

“I love it when you give me pain.” you counter between your mewls with a smile and close your eyes, leaning into sensations washing over your body again.

“Is that so?” Cazador mocks and his thrusts pick up the pace now despite his cold words. His hips snap against you in controlled fervor, relentless and unforgiving, while he moves one hand between you and pinches your nipple, twisting it cruelly, making you hiss at the pain, but you still smile.

“I’ve been your wife for decades, you know exactly what I like.” you reply with a moan, your body stiffens as he releases your nipple and leans into you even more, now truly folding your body in half and you open your eyes just to meet his gaze.

“And yet you still surprise me.” vampire responds and he truly tries to sound collected, in control, but his own pants are now loud and labored and his face is sweaty once more. His lips part for air, showing his fangs and you want to kiss him but can’t reach him, not in this position.

“I’m… I’m so close…” you whine, shivering underneath him because his thrusts now make him hit your clit with his pelvis and Cazador knows it.

“So impatient.” he says with a sneer and increases the power behind his pumps one last time, giving you his all. He’s close too and yet he’s not going to let you claim your climax easily. “Beg for your release.”

You don’t pause, you don’t know if you can hold on for longer than you already have and arch your neck with a whine.

“Please, my love, let me cum! Ah!” you gasp when he delivers an especially punishing thrust. “Cazador! Please!” your nails rip at the sheets again and you open your heavy eyelids, meeting his burning gaze. So many times he has fucked you like this and yet it seems he never gets enough of how you look during it. You’re all his, after all.

“Not yet.” he scolds almost coldly despite his own strain. “I said beg, you whore. Beg for me!”

“Fuck!” you cry out, your muscles tense at your effort to comply with his command, but you’re almost losing the battle. “Please, my love, please! I beg you! I can’t- I can’t!” you only have a moment or two to get his permission and you both know it, that’s why he’s doing this.

Yet it seems Cazador is done tormenting you.

“Very well.” he finally relents and closes his eyes, letting himself go too. “But remember – you are mine.”

You can’t respond, your orgasm washes over you with force and your body tightens and spasms, making you moan so loudly half the palace probably hears you. Your pussy grips his cock like a vice and with a satisfied smirk Cazador lets go of himself, releasing himself into you with a nearly animalistic growl, filling your cunt now and not slowing down until he’s milked from every last drop.

When Cazador finally stops you both remain as you are for a long moment. Utterly out of breath and trembling, you can feel his muscles shaking now and you smile, then look at him, adoring the expression on his face that tells you of satisfaction and content.

“Woke up needy?” you tease him lovingly and his eyes snap open at you in an instant, amused at your tone of voice, then he lets out an exhausted chuckle.

“I’ll never grow tired of you.” your lover says and slowly pulls out of you, leaning back and releasing your body from position he put you in.

“Ow, fuck…” you moan when his cock leaves you and your legs drop to the bed. You look at him, still shaking and feeling sore all over. “Well I hope not, we have forever together.” you smile as you speak and take a moment to play lazily with your overflowing pussy, feeling his seed begin to seep out of your entrance. Cazador truly went out of his way to fill every hole available.

He grins wickedly at you before getting closer and leaning down, then places a tender kiss on your forehead.

“We do have eternity, dear. And I plan on making the most of it with you.” he whispers, surprising you, but it looks like he’s finally satisfied and fulfilled.

“Oh you do love me.” you tease him, knowing he hates the very word ‘love’ but you see that he’s in much better mood now. Why wouldn’t he be.

At the same time his tenderness still leaves you in a playful mood. With him watching, you push two fingers into your overflowing cunt and gasp softly because you’re so sore it’s wonderfully painful. Cazador was right, you do love the pain he leaves you with afterwards.

He pauses for a moment as he observes what you’re doing, then he looks back at you and remembers your words, now rolling his eyes.

“Of course I do.” he says reluctantly, still not mentioning the word itself but then raises an eyebrow. “Now stop talking and let me take care of you.” he mutters and begins to move lower.

With a chuckle you spread your legs wide once more and watch him while pumping your fingers slowly, lazily even. You observe Cazador’s eyes flick to your moving digits and then he positions himself between your thighs, his hands now massaging inside of them and you remove your fingers out of your core, bringing them to your lips and licking them clean.

“You’re always so impatient.” your husband murmurs and runs his tongue along the seam of your pussy, tracing the damp, wet skin and causing shivers up and down your spine. You gasp in response.

“I’m addicted to you.” you smile but moan when you feel his tongue giving your pulsating folds another greedy lick. Your hands fly to your breasts and you begin to play with your nipples while you watch him down there, pleasing you, tasting himself mixed with your arousal, you will never tire of this sight.

Cazador doesn’t reply, he just chuckles at your words and lifts his head, giving you an arrogant smirk then his head dips lower again and his tongue slides as deep as it can into your soaked folds. One arm comes around your thigh and with two fingers he begins to stimulate your clit, rubbing it in circles. It’s almost painful and you’re near overstimulated but what he does works, you’re somehow close to your orgasm once more, except this time it’s more mixed with pain than before.

You work your breasts, plucking at your nipples and rolling them between your fingers, moaning as you watch him enjoy the taste of you for a little while longer before he switches what he’s doing. Vampire’s fingers leave you only for a moment, then they replace his tongue, sinking deep into your cunt. You cry out because it’s almost too much, too painful, but then his lips find your clit, envelop it, and Cazador begins to suck, flicking his tongue on your sensitive nub, drawing louder and louder moans out of you.

And then your world shatters around you. You cry out and squeeze your breasts with your fingers, your thighs lock Cazador’s head in place and your body convulses with pleasure once again while his fingers and his mouth move in tandem, drawing most out of your orgasm, helping you ride every last bit of it. When he finally feels you starting to lose the aftershocks, he pulls away and sits up, wolfish grin on his lips as he looks down on you.

You collapse, spent and exhausted, breathing heavily and look at him from under your heavy eyelids, your arms drop by your sides now too.

“That’s one way to start our night.” you chuckle breathily and Cazador laughs, then leans closer and brushes his lips against your neck.

“I just needed to remind you that you’re mine, dear. And the night has just begun.” he nips at your pointy ear and you mewl.

“My love, we have business.” you embrace him lovingly, feeling so small under his imposing frame. “Nobles to talk to, remember?” you whisper, finally feeling like you’re back to yourself at last, even though you’re still mildly dazed. Yet you have a suspicion Cazador is not done. You have no idea where he gets his stamina from, maybe he fed really well last night while you were preparing.

“Oh, we’ll get to that, pet.” he promises and you know that he means it, this meeting is important and he wouldn’t risk scorning some important people that he plans to use. And yet his voice is a low rumble against your ear as he lowers his body on top of yours and you feel his once more hard erection press against your stomach. “But first…”

You’re shocked, you don’t remember last time he wanted you, no, needed you this badly and once more you wonder what’s on his mind.

“Again? Cazador, I don’t-“ you begin, now reluctant to be fucked, to be taken when you’re already so sore and spent, not sure if pain is what you want right now, but Cazador only grins against your cheek.

“Always.” he whispers and pushes your leg out of the way, positioning himself once more. “Just need to see you writhe under me one more time.”

When he lifts his head you look him in the eyes, slightly worried but at the same time delighted. You can barely match his stamina and you’re his vampire bride. Yet, who are you to oppose your Lord husband?

“I’m not going to be able to leave the bedroom after you’re done with me.” you joke softly.

“That’s the idea, dear.” Vampire smirks at you and spreads your legs as widely as possible. One hand he slides to the small of your back while he kneels, lining up his cock to your sensitive and swollen core. “I don’t want you to forget that you are mine.” he whispers with seriousness and you smile, gripping the pillow, watching him slide his cock into you.

You whine, it’s more pain than pleasure at this point, but you find your pleasure in pain and observe Cazador savoring the feeling of his cock getting enveloped by your cunt. He begins to move, rocking his hips gently this time, aware that he has done to you more than he usually does and being careful.

“Do I still feel good?” you tease him with a smile and lock your ankles behind his back, enjoying this slow, gentle pace.

“Yes.” Cazador responds, his eyes flashing with amusement at your lighthearted words but at the same time he moves his hands and grips your hips, increasing his pace. Once he feels like you have adjusted to him fucking you again, he begins thrusting harder and somewhat hurriedly. He must be thinking of the grand meeting at the same time, thinking of time.

You don’t respond and just smile, closing your eyes with a moan, even now him fucking you feels like home, so familiar and safe, despite the pain and overstimulation or maybe exactly because of it. No matter how sore you get, how painful it becomes, you will never tell him to stop. Your back arches as you mewl sweetly.

“That’s it.” Cazador now croons and you feel him lean over you, sensing his fangs scrape against your neck while his hips slam against you harder and harder, he’s hurrying to finish this seemingly last lesson that is meant for you.

He nips at your neck with his teeth, not drawing blood but still making a point of getting you pay attention and you moan louder, moving your arms now and holding onto him, enjoying the sensation of his body moving against yours so closely. Simple missionary, sometimes there’s nothing better. But your pleasure builds, even with your physical limits being pushed and you whine.

“Oh fuck, Cazador…” you gasp while he takes your body, as is his right.

“Come for me.” your husband whispers against your neck while his thrusts become increasingly erratic and his hips slam against you with more force. Then, as if he got a new idea, Cazador slides one hand between you two and teases your clit again, making you gasp because it’s still so sensitive.

“I don’t know if I can.” you look at him with a choked whine, becoming more and more overstimulated already to the point tears gather in your eyes which are begging for him to grant you mercy, but you know he won’t. Tonight it’s about him, like most nights are.

“You will.” Cazador says firmly, his eyes now burning with determination and he continues to drive into you, taking you with rough, hard strokes as he watches your expression intently.

And he’s right, after all. He’s always right. With his rough fucking and similarly rough ministrations to your clit you begin feeling your orgasm build again, quicker than before.

“Cazador please…” you mewl again, writhing under him just as he wished, your back arching and bending, your body shaking.

“Cum for me.” Vampire Lord commands, his voice becoming low and threatening. You have to do as he says or else.

You can’t stop it anyway, his fingers rubbing your clit and his cock driving into your painfully sore cunt truly gives you the most satisfaction and you cum. Hard. Cazador grins as he feels you unravel around him but keeps moving, holding his pace as steady while you clench around him and cry out louder because that gives you more pain. Your nails dig into his skin as you moan again and again, all while under the studying gaze of your lover. Then he leans to your ear with a satisfied smirk.

“You’re mine, dear.” he whispers bit his words are choked and when you start coming down from your bliss you realize he’s close once more as well.

“Yours.” you whine from pain and exhaustion because he’s still not stopping and you realize that he wants to fill you one last time before you two start preparing for the meeting. Not the first time he wants to mark you as his in this way before he starts his night and you say nothing, just moan softly while you hold him, letting him fuck you until he reaches his own climax this time.

With a strained grunt Cazador spills himself within you for one more time and wraps his arms around you, nearly crushing you in his embrace. You don’t know when he removed his hand from your clit but it doesn’t matter, you can barely breathe but still hold him tightly, hearing his choked moans against your ear, feeling his body shuddering with another release.

The moment his orgasm is ridden out completely Cazador collapses on top of you, nearly pushing air out of your lungs but you smile and hold him, just first you unlock your ankles and relax into the bed. You gently begin stroking his tangled hair, listening to your lover’s pants as if it’s the most wonderful song in the world. You are too out of breath and you remain still for a long moment before you speak again.

“Happy now?” you whisper and Cazador chuckles while still trying to catch his breath.

“Always.” he whispers back with his face against your neck. “Always.”

“I’ll need to wash up.” you complain with a pout, thinking about the meeting now and sigh softly when you feel your husband pull out of you slowly and carefully, obviously now attempting not to hurt you. His head raises and his expression is serious once again, the moment of tenderness has already passed.

“Take your time. I’ll wash up in one of the bedrooms. And I have something prepared for our guests.” Cazador sits up and eyes your exhausted body, but you already begin feeling yourself recovering. If not for your vampiric powers you’d be a sobbing mess right now instead of just pleasantly spent.

Yet you give him a curious look, remaining on your back, resting while you can.

“You sound like you are going to kill them all. Don’t.”

Cazador grins and you see his fangs glinting in the dim light of the room.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” he promises and finally gets out of bed, standing tall and proud. “I’m just eager to share… my good fortune with them.” he adds, making you chuckle.

You sit up and feel yourself too full of his seed to move comfortably.

“Send in a servant to prepare a bath for me and change the sheets.” you look at Cazador now, watching as he puts on a robe and ties it around his waist. He gives you a glance over his shoulder, his eyes sweeping down your body and he smirks.

“As you wish.” suddenly he looks amused and walks to the door, opening it then snaps his fingers. Two human servants appear not long after, rushing to serve their Lord and stand at the ready before he speaks again. “Make sure my companion here is prepared for the event.” Cazador says and you know he’s trying to get on your nerves. He succeeds of course.

You frown, half annoyed and half amused.

“Companion?!” you raise your voice so that everyone can hear you clearly. “I am your wife!” you assert but then laugh, you can’t help it. Most would not understand that Cazador is actually joking with you, but you know him well enough and find it in a way endearing that he actually does joke around with you, even if it’s a little dry in delivery.

“Of course, my dear wife.” Vampire says as he glances back at you, his tone mockingly sweet but he turns back to the servants. “Just attend to her.” he commands and leaves the room.

For the next hour you take care to wash yourself while servants keep busy around the bedroom, tidying it up per your instructions. When you return to the chamber you find it clean and prepared once again. On the neatly made bed you see a dress and approach it, eyeing it curiously. Of course Cazador picked the dress for you. Usually he does not care what you wear as long as you are presentable and reflect the values of Szarr family but tonight he truly seems to have been having something on his mind to go through lengths as this.

After you dress up and brush your hair, you head down to the ballroom. You hear chatter and laughter even before you enter the hallway that leads to your destination and gentle music echoes off the walls. Calm and content you enter the room and most people fall silent, making way for you when you head for the throne of the palace where Cazador is seated. Smaller chair is to his right, waiting for you to occupy it. Before he sees you his eyes are scanning the crowd but the moment he notices your arrival he smirks and unashamedly eyes your form, clad in the dress he himself picked, obviously pleased you didn’t choose other garment.

With a smile of your own you approach him and lean closer, giving him a short kiss before you step to his left and place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. Cazador’s eyes return to scan the room.

“I trust you had a pleasant evening so far, my dear wife?” he asks while his eyes rake over the crowd, taking in every reaction to your arrival but there’s also a playful taunt in his words and tone, making you glance at him with amusement.

“Yes, my Lord.” you respond and give his shoulder a squeeze again, signaling that you’re onto him, onto his near beaming pride from making such a mess out of you just earlier.

Cazador chuckles to himself and looks up at you for a moment.

“I’m pleased to hear this.” his voice is dripping with sarcasm and you raise an eyebrow at him, trying not to laugh now. “But perhaps you could entertain our guests while I tend to some urgent matters first, hm?”

You know what this means. Your husband is ready to feed and he’s going to pick one fine noble in this crowd to satiate his hunger with a premise of discussing business. So you just nod to him, more than familiar with the routine, and you lean to his cheek, giving it a kiss.

“Just don’t take too long.” you whisper while eyeing the crowd and wandering who he will pick tonight.

Cazador’s fingers brush against your cheek almost affectionately and he smirks.

“I won’t.” he promises and stands up, towering over you for a moment, his gaze meeting yours, you see a reflection of emotion, something akin to tenderness as he reaches and caresses your face, then his gaze sweeps away from you and hardens in a bat of an eye.

When Cazador descends the stairs everyone steps aside for him and you watch your beloved Vampire Lord make way, stopping to chat with people and then move to approach a man you can already see he picked as his meal for tonight. He doesn’t need attention right now, so you look around and see one of your own spawn lingering not far. You call her over and instruct her to bring more wine.

With an obedient nod she rushes away and you proceed to draw attention to yourself by talking to guests, directing bards to play just a little louder, the works. At some point you notice your husband gone from the room and you just hope he will return soon. Despite growing up with such soirees being a constant thing, you still don’t like them much because of all the pretending and the bravado from men who don’t seem to be even slightly self-aware.

As the night wears on and Cazador doesn’t return, you have to resist the urge to go looking for him. Left alone with bunch of irritating mortals is something you’ve come to despise early on in your marriage and tonight even more so you feel the lack of energy to pretend that you care about their frivolous affairs. Despite your body already feeling as if Cazador’s ministrations didn’t happen just hours ago, you still feel fatigued and hungry. You wish he returned sooner.

But some more hours pass and when the event seems to be winding down with guests beginning to leave, only then you see your Vampire Lord return. He doesn’t look any different than any other given moment when he’s among people, but he does give you a telling look before he walks back to his throne chair and sits in it. You walk to him, seeing last guests finish their conversations and head out. Now that you two are alone except for servants and spawn bustling around you slip into his lap with ease, tracing a finger across his lips.

“Did you kill your meal tonight?” you coo in his ear, feeling one of Cazador’s arms wrap around your waist while with other he grips your ankle and begins his ascend to your knee, then your thigh. After a moment you feel his lips brush against your neck as he smirks.

“Always so curious.” he hums. “And yes, I did find my sustenance for the night.” Cazador confirms and you shiver when you feel him softly dragging his nails against your skin.

“You took so long, I just wondered why.” you admit before you begin placing kisses on his neck, your intention to him is clear. After all, he only lets you feed from him and at this point your hunger is near palpable.

“You are so needy, dear, aren’t you?” Cazador teases but he still cranes his neck giving you access for a bite.

Your breath hitches in your throat and you drag your tongue across his skin, picking a spot where to sink your fangs in, your eyes becoming heavy-lidded at the promise of blood. You don’t even care to respond to his teasing and after just a moment longer you bite him without gentleness, beginning to gulp down his blood with relief. In response Cazador groans when your fangs pierce his skin, his head falling back against the backrest of the throne. Although he feigns discomfort, you know the truth beneath his act – he’s aroused and pleased by your desperation for him and the power he holds over you.

After few more mouthfuls of blood you feel his fingers under your dress move again, trailing between your legs and when he finds the hem of your underwear his fingers push underneath, brushing against your seam. You moan against his neck but don’t pull back, still needing to feed, preoccupied with his blood so you don’t mind when Cazador’s other hand dips into the neckline of your dress and frees your right breast. You’re aware there’s still servants and spawn in the room but you don’t care, you let him do anything to you. Anything at all.

Suddenly you hear the vampire chuckle and his fingers pluck at your nipple, making it perk up.

“Always so eager to please, hm?” he taunts as if you’re a common street whore yet his fingers work to please you, expertly circling your clit with a lazy pace. He’s in no hurry and you aren’t either, but your body shivers in response. Instinctively you part your legs wider, welcoming his touch while your feeding slows. At this point you are near satisfied and instead you are savoring the taste of his blood.

Cazador sighs in response, smirking, moving his head to allow you even better access to his blood and you clutch at him when you feel a finger press into your cunt, slipping in with ease while his thumb resumes to rub your clit. Your underwear restricts his movements but you still shiver once more. It makes you pull your lips from his neck.

“Another.” you whisper with need laced in your voice and push his head towards your chest, guiding him this time. Without protest his lips find your nipple as he takes your breast into his mouth, moving his tongue against sensitive flesh. After a moment he pulls away, giving your nipple a greedy lick.

“You’re so needy tonight.” he murmurs but to you it sounds like Cazador means himself more than you because he obediently pushes another finger into your wetness, making you gasp.

“Less talking, my love.” you smile to him although you’re already breathing heavier and you make him press his mouth around your wet nipple again.

He smirks against your skin but his tongue begins to flick at your hardened peak while his fingers start to move within you in slow, sensual rhythm as he continues to suckle hungrily, making you close your eyes and moan softly, enjoying the tenderness of the moment after roughness at the beginning of the night. But the gentleness doesn’t last and you cry out when you feel Cazador’s fangs sink into your supple breast. Yet you don’t say anything, just grip his hair in your fingers tighter, keeping his head steady while he laps at the blood he’s drawn, his fingers not stopping for a moment. You begin to feel your pleasure arise within you, building slowly but steadily.

“My Lord, there has been an emergency.” you both hear a voice and Cazador growls with frustration, releasing your breast from his mouth with a wet pop, making the blood trickle down your skin from the puncture wounds.

“You dare to interrupt us?” he snarls at the servant and you open your eyes, trying to collect yourself and calm your breathing for a moment as you look at the young boy, still mortal, but so scared as he stands before you two.

“One of the guests, my Lord, he fell down the stairs.” his voice trembles and he casts down his eyes, not daring to look at his angry Lord or you in his lap, partially exposed and obviously interrupted amidst your pleasure.

“So? Offer him compensation.” you say with annoyance but Cazador looks at you.

“I better go see it myself.” he tells you in a way that leaves no room to argue and you sigh, releasing his hair from your grip and with disappointment feeling his fingers leave your needy cunt. “Stay here.” the vampire commands and lifts you with ease, turning now and setting you onto his throne.

You look up at him, eager and begging with your eyes but he just caresses your cheek briefly while giving your exposed and bloody breast a look, then he turns on his heel and walks out with the boy.

Frustrated and still very much in a mood you pout, wondering what to do. You scan the ballroom with your eyes, noticing only one spawn tidying up the glasses and you decide to ignore them. Cazador left you dripping with desire and you’re not going to let that go to waste.

With ease you slip off your underwear, letting it drop by your feet and you part your legs, draping them over the armrests of the throne while with one hand finding your way to your throbbing pussy and you gasp softly once you begin to tease your clit gently, slowly, drawing your pleasure out. With other hand you cup your breast that still bears the mark of Cazador’s bite, playing with it carefully, smearing bits of his saliva that didn’t dry off yet over your nipple and making yourself moan louder.

You close your eyes and enjoy the slow buildup of pleasure, unaware that your lover has returned and is standing still, observing you with a smirk. He enjoys seeing you so needy and so easily turned on by him and him alone. You couldn’t even wait for him to come back. With one glance he sends the spawn away and slowly approaches you, finally making you aware of his presence and you open your clouded from pleasure eyes.

He doesn’t speak, neither do you. You just lift the skirts of your dress for him and watch him work his pants until he pulls out his fully hard cock. With a grin he leans over you, becoming your whole world and you see a mix of desire and ownership reflected in his gaze that’s cast upon you. Without further hesitation he positions himself at your entrance, one hand gripping the backrest and the other - left armrest, before slamming into you with one swift thrust, making you moan at the sensation of being filled again. Yet you smile, he does love to fuck you on his throne and does it often, all you have to do is grip the backrest with both hands and let him take you, which you do with pride.

Cazador grits his teeth as he begins to pound into you, watching himself take you with each pump, his hair slipping from behind his ears as he’s hunched over you, taking what’s rightfully his.

“What-“ you begin among your gasps. “What happened?” you finally manage as you too watch his cock plunge into you repeatedly. Cazador looks up at you, enjoying the visage of pleasure on your face for a moment before responding.

“Some idiot fell. Broke a leg.” your husband pants while he grinds against you, speaking between his labored panting. “Doesn’t matter.”

His words make you smile as you gasp for air loudly with each snap of his hips and your heart swells with feeling as you watch his face above you.

“I love you.” you tell him but this time Cazador smirks at you, satisfied with your words. He decides to grant you this one treat tonight, you performed well so far.

“And I love you, my dear, loyal pet.” he says, making your eyes widen from surprise at hearing something you so rarely hear, if ever.

But then he increases the pace of his thrusts and you shudder, reminded of your pleasure and distracted from what he just said. You moan louder and your legs tremble.

“I’m so close…” you gasp with each pump with your eyes locked on his.

“Cum for me, my pretty little whore.” Cazador grunts, enjoying watching you come undone and he does know exactly what to say.

It takes only a thrust or two and you unravel, gripping the backrest of the throne and moaning loudly, shouting his name as you shiver and clench all around his cock. With a restrained moan of his own, Vampire Lord follows you in pleasure, his strokes become erratic as he begins to spill his seed into your pussy with the help of your muscles spasming so deliciously. It might be seconds or minutes before you begin to feel any semblance of self and you open your eyes, seeing Cazador trying to catch his breath while completely still now, with his eyelids heavy from lust and his face sweaty just as yours.

But then you notice another servant to your right who’s obviously standing there for a while, waiting for you two to finish and you roll your eyes.

“Fuck’s sake, what now?” you manage through your gasps for air and Cazador glances into the direction of the servant, finally made aware of them.

“What is it now?!” he snaps with a voice that’s cold and dangerous, making the servant flinch and shrink. Cazador doesn’t even bother to pull out of your quivering body just yet, maybe he’s hoping it’s nothing urgent this time.

“One of the scouts you sent out returned, Master.” they explain briefly while you move your hands and begin to play with Cazador’s hair, caressing the side of his face with a smile. You love it when he gets angry with others and in return you give his softening cock a squeeze with your cunt, making his expression soften a little bit at your touch and a reminder of your presence. However, he still shoots servant a glare.

“This can wait until tomorrow.” he orders and finally pulls out of you with a wet sound, making you gasp and then chuckle. You glance at the servant and raise an eyebrow, surprised they are still lingering here.

“You heard your master, shoo.” you laugh and sit up in the throne, pushing the skirts of your dress down but not passing the chance to lean forward and capture your husband’s softening cock in your mouth to catch last drops of his seed while you hear the servant scurry away in a rush.

Cazador smirks down on you but grips at your hair with gentle firmness, pulling your mouth off his dick.

“Not yet.”

You look up at him and smile, licking your lips while tucking him back into his pants with care.

“I just don’t like wasting even a drop of you.” you tease gently, making Cazador smile almost softly at you as he pulls you to your feet and embraces you, holding you, cradling your head with his palm and he nuzzles his face in your hair.

“Don’t test me, pup. You know I cannot resist you for long.” he confesses while you embrace him in return and close your eyes, just enjoying the moment.

“Good. I can’t risk you picking another consort.” you tease again with a smile and that makes Cazador chuckle with a low rumbling sound.

“You think I could ever let another possess my body the way you do?”

His reply makes you actually, truly happy and you hug him tighter, smiling widely.

“You’re mine.” you whisper against his shirt.

“And you belong to me.” he responds before pulling back slightly to look down at you with a softer look in his eyes for now, one that speaks of gentle feelings and possession. His expression alone urges you to reach up, cup his face and bring it closer so that you can kiss him.

It’s a simple kiss at first and then it deepens when you push your tongue past his lips and into his mouth, tasting him just as he tastes you. You feel his grip on your lower back and the back of your skull tighten, holding you firmly before he pulls from the kiss and his lips trail down your face onto your neck.

“Is everything done for tonight?” you ask, hearing how breathy your voice sounds. Cazador’s teeth nip at your neck without breaking the skin before he replies.

“For tonight, yes.” he confirms, muttering against your skin. “We can retire to our chambers once again.” the implication is heavy in his voice and you realize it’s time to address his unusual possessiveness and need.

“You’re insatiable.” you comment with a chuckle but then lean back and look into his eyes more seriously now. “I’m lucky I’m an immortal but even I have a hard time keeping up with you tonight. Usually you don’t spend your time relentlessly bedding me.” you pause, waiting for him to reply but when Cazador doesn’t, you cup his face and kiss his cheek. “Did you have a bad dream before you woke me with your cock, hm?” you ask softly and carefully.

The question makes him stiffen and he straightens his back, looking down on you with anger and contempt.

“I do not need to explain myself to you!” Vampire’s tone is icy when he snaps at you. “You are mine and I will take what I want, when I want it.”

“So it was a bad dream.” you smile, unimpressed by the sudden change of his mood and you pull his face close to you again, without much struggle from Cazador. “Not to worry, I’m here and I am indeed yours.” you whisper softly as you look into his eyes.

Despite his anger Vampire Lord can’t help but somewhat soften at your words and touch.

“You are one annoying pet, my dear.” he complains but you see possessive desire once more stir behind his eyes and you smile.

“Was the dream that bad?” you ask as you tuck his hair behind his ears but you know that for Cazador to be this needy, well needy in his own peculiar way, it must’ve been something really upsetting.

He pauses as he thinks of how to respond to you.

“The dream was… intriguing.” he finally admits with reluctance and then hesitates again before continuing. “In it, I saw you pleasuring another man… behaving as you were not satisfied by me.”

You sigh slightly, you already suspected it was something like this. A vampire’s jealousy is truly a force of nature when invoked but with Cazador it stems from fear of losing you, because he has nobody else except you and even then it took you two years to start tolerating each other before it grew into something deeper. Vulnerability that neither of you want to speak of in words. So you press yourself against his chest firmly in response.

“I will never need anyone else but you.” you promise softly, not seeing how his eyes widen in surprise at your words and he once more buries his face in your hair, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself.

“You are truly mine. Only mine.” he pauses, hesitating, then adds. “And I’m yours.”

You don’t respond, just hold him and let yourself be held in a moment of genuine affection, a bond shared. But at least you now know why he’s so restless tonight. One of his own ways to control you is through sex and he surely made an effort to show you that you are his to possess and keep. And most likely, although he would rather kill you than admit it, Cazador felt an unfamiliar fear of not satisfying you enough. But you think you have one more round in you tonight.

“How about we go back to our chambers and spend rest of the night in bed? Just you, me and the bedsheets.” you tilt your head to look at him and Cazador gives you a satisfied smirk.

“And you call me insatiable, pet?” he teases and you want to respond but he quickly swoops you off your feet and begins carrying you outside the ballroom.

As he carries you, you cling to his neck and remain silent for a moment, thinking. You are curious to know more about his dream.

“Was the man I pleasured in your dream someone we know?”

Cazador remains silent, either not wanting to reply right away or trying to remember the dream.

“No, it was not.” he finally responds. “In fact, dear, I don’t remember what he looked like at all. It’s just that I couldn’t stop thinking about you with someone else.”

“Ah it matters not.” you smile and begin to nibble on his pointy ear, using your tongue to gently prod at the tip of it. “Still, fear not, I’m yours.”

“Good, you know your place.” Cazador hums, pleased by your response and once you both arrive at the bedroom he nudges the door closed and settles you on the floor, hunger once more in his eyes.

“No, you’re not ripping my dress again.” you laugh and push at him, surprising your husband but then he grins at you with mischief.

“Very well, strip then.” he commands and you walk past him towards the chair and begin to undress, pretending to ignore his look sweeping over you again and again.

“Undress too.” you tell him and Cazador pauses, then sighs with annoyance, giving you a glare that you ignore too and then comes closer, also beginning to disrobe and tossing his clothes with yours on the chair.

“You’ll have to beg for your release.” vampire says with irritation that you’re making him do this and you glance at him at last.

“Promise you’ll be rough?” you tease and Cazador lifts an eyebrow at you as he sheds last bits of his own attire.

“Absolutely, dear.” his grin shows his fangs and you think you just have fallen in love with him a little bit more. “You always taste sweetest when I take you roughly.”

You chuckle at his words, getting aroused already and the moment he’s nude, he steps to you, gripping your throat and pushing you backwards with intense look on his face. You recognize the telltale sign of him having one more idea for you tonight.

You let him lead you and then he turns you around, pressing you chest-first to the window, the glass feeling like an icy embrace. Cazador pushes your face by your throat against the window so firmly it almost cracks. You smile and sigh dreamily, letting yourself be adjusted for his preference when he tugs at your hips, putting your body at an angle.

“What’s taking you so long. Should I find someone else to fuck me faster?” you tease quite dangerously and feel Cazador’s grip on your throat tighten with an angry huff before his hand leaves you entirely only for both of them to grip your hips.

“Don’t move.” he commands and plunges into you swiftly, making you moan in response.

Cazador doesn’t give you a moment to adjust or even to speak before he begins snapping his hips against you in a powerful rhythm meant to make you sore before you even cum and you chuckle breathlessly already. Your eyes finally focus and you realize that bellow the window there’s some people already gathered, watching you getting fucked, and you grin. It takes only a moment for Cazador to notice this too and he scoffs, amused but smirking.

“I always knew you’d put on quite a show, dear.”

“You just enjoy letting them know that it’s you who fucks me, and only you.” you respond, trying to stifle your moans albeit unsuccessfully. You’re quickly getting lost in the feeling of being fitted on his cock once more, your wetness dripping down your thighs and running over his balls too. In this moment you feel truly loved.

“They may watch but they will never even get close to you.” Cazador says in a firm but barely controlled tone as he too loses himself in pleasure that your body provides him with.

And then he increases the force behind his thrusts even more, making you grab onto the wall at both sides of the window in fear that it might break with your breasts and face being pushed so relentlessly against it. The display of intense fucking that you two are putting on in this moment is drawing even more people now, despite the late hour. Mostly it’s drunks and partying peasants but you don’t care, you know that the word about this will spread far and wide and it makes you grin.

Cazador watches you get drunk with pleasure and his own eyes get clouded from satisfaction at your response to him. He pulls out of you only to thrust back in harder, pushing you harder against the window and only your grip on the walls prevents it from shattering. You feel his body tense, you hear his breathing becoming labored but before you can submit yourself to the pleasure completely, you feel your husband’s hand on your throat again, pulling your head to his chest and bending your spine in a painful angle, yet you don’t care, you’re enjoying this and enjoy watching the crowd beneath the window.

“You like being watched, you slut?” Cazador growls against your ear, his voice thick with lust and his grip on your throat tightens possessively, letting you know how much control he has over your body while he keeps driving himself deep into your cunt repeatedly.

You manage a simple nod before you remember how to speak.

“And you like to be watched when you fuck me.” you respond among your moans and Cazador sneers against your ear, you know he’s watching the crowd too, just as you are.

“Such a degenerate.” Cazador huffs but his hips snap against you in reckless abandon, both of you are close to your bliss now, somehow being watched only makes you both more aroused, that is very much clear.

You choke your mewls out, listening to your lover’s groans against your ear.

“Fuck!” Cazador swears and his head dips to your shoulder before he sinks his fangs into your flesh with no care for your pain, making you whine at the sensation, but you don’t mind, you just smile.

“Fill me, love, claim me for everyone to see.” your words barely sound any different from your moans but Cazador understands.

With one more thrust he begins to spill himself into you, his moan muffled by your skin and that alone is enough to send you over the edge with him. You orgasm, shuddering and gripping the walls tightly with your fingers as your Lord uses your spasming body to empty himself completely, just like he always does. You forget that you are watched, you forget everything. As you relish the experience of your orgasm you don’t hear how loudly you are crying out or what words, if any, you are saying. You just feel Cazador stop after few more lazy thrusts and release your shoulder from his teeth, panting heavily.

After final wave of your pleasure washes over you and retreats, you open your eyes, completely out of breath and see the people below, grinning at the sight.

“Mmm… that was exquisite.” Cazador hums against your ear and you smile, bucking your hips at him, signaling him to release you.

When his grasp on your throat is gone you swallow dryly yet still with a smile.

“I think they’ve had enough of a show.” you chuckle and Cazador pauses, but pulls out of you, letting you step back from the window and pull the curtain closed.

When you turn to him you notice his calm, satiated and content look examining your nude body. You let him, saying nothing for a moment, before he reaches out to you, wanting you to take his hand. When you do, he pulls you against his chest and leans to your face.

“You will never leave me.” he says it as more of a fact than a promise but you smile, knowing what he means even if he’s not saying it, his intense tone and words not phasing you one bit.

“No, I won’t. You won’t get rid of me this easily.” you tease, seeing surprise on his face, then you kiss him, not wanting to hear his reply.

Cazador stiffens when your lips meet his but soon he relaxes and holds you firmly.

Words are not needed, you know exactly what he feels, because you feel the same. And maybe in a hundred years or so you won’t need to play word games with him just to hear him say that he needs you even if you already know that he does. Of course he does. And you need him. That will never change. Ever.

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