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cantsaythetword · 2 years

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TickleTober Day 9: Torture

~A/N - Ok so this is my first EVER Originals fic that I'm writing so I really hope it turns out the way I want it to. It's a reader fic with Elijah and Klaus and some spooky witchy magic which gets you in an interesting situation...

This might be a long one sooooo buckle the fuckle up. Also might have some slightly more intense tickle scenes, so a slight TW for that (tied up, tickle interrogation, not exactly soft and fluffy but not terrifying either lol)

Hope you guys like it!

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link || TickleTober 2022 Masterpost Link

"Hello there."

You blinked drowsily, the clinking of chains above you waking you violently from your half-conscious state. Where were you? Why were your hands tied? Who was talki-

Oh no.

"I hear you have some information about the whereabouts of a certain vampire I've been looking for."

You locked eyes with none other than Klaus Mikaelson, fear instantly rippling down your spine.

"Words seem to have escaped you..." He said, face tilting in mock concern. "Allow me to help with that."

You gasped, internally cursing yourself for reacting.

"Oh there's no need to be afraid. I won't need to cause too much damage." He grinned, walking around your suspended body. "See, I have a friend of mine who is very handy with spells."

Where was he going with this? Was there some horrific psychological torture you were about to endure? Just how long would you hold out? How long could you hold out?

"And one of my absolute favourites is a little nerve-amplifying spell."

So that was his plan? Set your senses on fire and just wait?

"This little masterpiece allows even the smallest blow to be absolute-" He paused, pinching your bicep.

You screamed, pain shooting past your shoulders and slowly dissipating along your chest.

"-agony."

It was more than anything you had experienced before.

"Are you ready?" Klaus

You tensed, awaiting what you could only imagine would be horrific anguish.

"Niklaus, wait."

The well-dressed immortal in the doorway had his hand held up, halting his brother from beginning what could soon be the worst moments of your life.

"Ah brother, come to see the show?" Klaus opened his arms like a circus ringmaster, welcoming Elijah to his little makeshift torture chamber (which was really just chains hanging from the roof keeping your arms up and ropes keeping your ankles together).

"Unfortunately not."

Klaus sighed. "I suppose you've got some self-righteous monologue coming my way?"

Letting out a chuckle, Elijah stepped towards you, effortlessly keeping your attention with his intimidating presence.

"I have entered into an agreement that no harm shall come to Y/N under any circumstances." The older brother said.

"We barely have to touch them to cause unimaginable pa-."

"Irrelevant." Elijah interrupted. "I gave my word, and I shall hold myself to that."

Klaus rolled his eyes. Clearly this wasn't the first time Elijah had ruined his plans.

You certainly weren't complaining though.

The brothers stood for a few moments in silence, looking you up and down. You weren't sure if they were trying to figure out a plan or purely trying to intimidate you.

Whether it was intentional or not, it was working.

Finally, Elijah spoke.

"Y/N." He moved towards you. "You seem like a sensible young person."

You kept your eyes locked to his. It wouldn't surprise you if he could sense your anxiety, but you weren't going to make it any easier for him to see just how shit scared you were right now.

"Surely you know what's at stake-" He began, placing a hand gently on your back.

But you didn't just feel a hand. You felt each fingertip press into your skin, his palm push against your muscles in an unbearably odd manner.

You couldn't help but let out a muffled yelp, arching away from him.

Klaus tittered in amusement, while Elijah simply gave you a puzzled look.

He turned to face Klaus. "Just how bad was that witch's spell? I can barely brush against them without them recoiling in pain."

Proving his own point, he brushed his fingers against your side and you squealed, violently trying to jerk your hands down to protect yourself.

The younger's snickers turned to a few seconds of laughter.

"That's not pain, brother." Klaus chuckled, and for the first time you shot him a look of pure fear. "I think our friend has another little secret they don't want us to know of."

You couldn't quite see Elijah's face, but clearly something had clicked. For when he turned around next his face could only be described as predatorily calm. He took his place behind you, where all you could see was his hands coming closer and closer to your hypersensitive body.

Once Klaus readied himself in front of you was when your calm composure dissolved into nervous giggling.

"Wahahait plehehease!" You begged, jolting the chains your limbs were currently wrapped in.

"Oh you've got no chance." Klaus grinned.

And then it began.

Elijah's fingernails felt like claws scratching every ticklish nerve under your arms. Each point of contact acting as a conductor of ticklish volts rocketing down your nervous system and setting your body alight. Klaus's thumbs seemed to connect with each fibre of your muscle tissue on your lower sides, massaging your obliques with the speed and intensity of a woodpecker's beak.

The tickling was so much you couldn't react for a few moments, stuck in the stasis of shock while your vocal chords caught up with your physical senses.

You squealed, bursting into manic unstoppable laughter. It felt like your mouth wasn't your own, cackles interrupting every breath you took as they poured out from between your lips.

"Now this seems to be an effective extraction method." Elijah teased right next to your ear.

Klaus's hands wandered slightly lower, squeezing against your hipbones. Each pinch like his hands were scraping against you, making your skeleton vibrate with ticklish sensations.

"NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" You pleaded, though no comprehendible sound came out. Being so caught up in the absolute agony of feelings you were experiencing, it took you a second before you realised the unholy screeching sound was coming from you. Your hips were just too much to bear, and your waist danced from side to side in an attempt to briefly escape the horrific fate you were being subjected to.

"This seems to be the killer Y/N!" Klaus simpered. "Wouldn't you agree?"

It was too much. You were about to snap. You couldn't breathe, you couldn't think. You didn't know if you'd ever feel again. No human has ever experienced this much pure sensation before, and there was nothing you could do but scream. Your eyes and ears were barely giving you any information about the world around you, every sense had shut down in the hopes to preserve what little sanity you had left.

This was it. The breaking point. You were on the edge of just letting go...

"If you boys are done playing, I've managed to figure it out without torturing poor Y/N."

Rebekah! Your knight in shining armour. The only way those torturous hands were anywhere near likely to retract.

"Excellent." Elijah grinned. "I suppose we're done here."

"Aw, but we were just getting started!" Klaus groaned, giving you a menacing wink.

"I'll sort it out, you two fix this mess." Rebekah said, but not before flashing you an amused smirk.

You watched your saviour exit the room, before letting your head hang limp towards the floor.

"Now, how to ensure you don't speak a word of this to anyone..." Klaus said, tapping a finger against his chin.

"Oh with the redness on their cheeks, I highly doubt they'd be sharing this little adventure with anyone." Elijah smirked, eliciting a blush from your traitorous cheeks. "Plus, this spell of yours should take a few days to wear off. If they go blabbing their mouth, who knows who may take advantage of this sensitive situation."

"In that case," Klaus took a step towards you, wriggling his fingers. "shall we continue?"

Elijah smirked. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

#fic #mine #tickletober2022 #tickletober day 9 #the originals #elijah #klaus #i hope this was ok and not too OOC im only on like season 1 but im obsessed with elijah #he gives off such ler energy and i cant stop thinking about it #im not usually a vampire guy #but damn id let him have a lil nibble of my neck #tw intense tickles (fiction)#FUCK THIS IS LONG IM SORRY #and late too #hopefully worth it ???

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gyarubloodbath · 1 month

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aqueous

character: sanzu haruchiyo tw: asphyxia, zoophilia, masturbation, out of character, sex in public, tentacles, tragedy, drugs, food play, food fetish, death. synopsis: trying to find a way out to the water surface, his short-known little friends groped all over his body: hugging his arms, clinging to his calves, painfully pulling off pink nipples, as if playing with them, pulling with tentacles, replacing them with a low vibration and already excited, standing stake member, from which a puddle of precum had already dripped between my legs.

a non accidental incision of the palm under the angelic dust of the archangel gabriel makes you experience a real intense ecstasy (before pressing a couple of grams of napas on the table and finishing), rotating like a sweet iris on the tongue, softening with an abundance of saliva, and after a choking breath — cutting — passing, stuck somewhere between paper ribs, right under the heart slowly beating — the ticking of the clock is slowed down. as inhibited as haruchiyo's brain under the influence of fairy powder.

sanzu's thoughts are raging, seeping dust into the darkest corners, the rats of which are corroding the last normal rudiments of reason, unfortunately perverted by big money and the same opportunities.

streams of sannakchi sauce and sesame oil, small seeds, spread over the toned body, reaching the penis itself, which twitches slightly from the barely perceptible cold of the room and such a heat of excitement experienced for the first time in my life, on which the vanilla cream from the expensive dessert has already melted. the restaurant is boiling, going crazy from the sheer amount of obscenity, controlled by eros. the long and wide table is deprived of hot dishes on silver trays, — small drops fell on the body of a sinner, — fresh and cold drinks, — stored in transparent purple bottles, loudly thundering, - as well as all the appliances that fell loudly on the dirty, previously pristine red carpet. there is no sense of love here — all cupids and valentines will close their eyes, but hathor, in the image of sekhmet, the legend of "the eye of ra", wearing a lioness mask, will join the guy, and after…

unpleasantly cold and sticky small tentacles slide along the body, leaving behind a slippery and wet path (not the one sanzu is so used to — dry, white, untouched by anyone, separated by a gold card), followed by pink-purple hickeys. the octopuses were well cleaned before serving, but this did not make the feeling of someone's viscous mucus in the pubic and abdominal areas disappear.

sanzu suffered pleasantly, feeling the suction cups of octopuses generously spread all over his body. trying to find a way out to the water surface, his short-known little friends groped all over his body: hugging his arms, clinging to his calves, painfully pulling off pink nipples, as if playing with them, pulling with tentacles, replacing them with a low vibration and already excited, standing stake member, from which a puddle of precum had already dripped between my legs. the guy was struggling forward — following instinct — trying to get into an invisible, wet, squelching pussy from the fingers of a fictional woman, or maybe a friend's anus ring, hammering right into the prostate, pulling out moans, eggs slapping his ass. what's the difference?

one of the octopuses tickled pervert's neck, reaching for the mouth of the martyr. haruchiyo obediently opened his mouth, uttering such a groan that his further stay in the most criminal organization in japan ! it will be so shameful that he will be afraid to look the head in the eye. sanzu kept many secrets from everyone. the way he dreamily inhaled twisted cannabis, while at that time the cat licked the sauce from his penis after carbonara, before falling face-first into a plate of pasta. what a sinful boy! with a pleasant feeling, the forgotten one from the akashi family remembers a childhood moment: drowning in a swamp, he suffocates, choking in mud, taking a sip of dirty water with all the small creatures that swarm in it. that day, haruchiyo came for the first time, looking at himself from head to toe in confusion. then he was afraid, he fought with all his might for life, panicking not understanding why and how it happened, why karma ordered it, why god did this to him or some other being who had power only over the fate of this unfortunate boy.

the tongue felt a tasteless rubber substance climbing right into a mouth full of saliva. sanzu breathed often, recognizing that very feeling, nostalgic for that very time, the comb burning, smelling…

sucking in a pair of tentacles of a cephalopod, sanzu grabbed his penis, twitching and screaming like a whore, masturbating quickly, smearing all the natural lubricant along the entire length, which sometimes flew off in drops onto the guy's loins and stomach. the octopus, panicking, overcome with fear, but still a sense of self-preservation, began to struggle, actively twitching, sticking the tentacles remaining on his face to his cheeks. sanzu stopped for a second, feeling the burning "kisses" of the animal, whose tentacles only penetrate further into the mouth. the muscular walls of the throat contract and a cough escapes from the mouth. deaf, suffocating.

sanzu pulls back the foreskin, rubbing the bridle of the penis with his thumb, bending forward, pressing his head into his shoulders, then back, painfully meeting the mahogany of the table. the tentacles of the mollusk are pressed against the epiglottis, blocking the opening of the larynx with the tip, thereby limiting the access of the larynx to oxygen.

the last second and a hot stream of sperm flows out of sanzu's penis, spreading along the inside of her thighs, which were desperately struggling in the air from lack of oxygen and the desire to live. the hands tried to unhook the octopus from the face of a would-be pervert, subject only to his whims and vile desires, snatched somewhere from distant childhood, books and early Internet sites. the animal clung so tightly to the guy's delicate skin that it did not want to leave him in any way.

panting, sanzu fell off the table, hitting his back on the remains of food (like a salad seasoned with coconut milk and snacks for alcohol) and fragments of a broken glass, which previously contained cask-aged wine. trying to breathe in, only a wheeze could be heard by the entire restaurant, and the cutting opportunity to get oxygen only made haruchie's situation worse: he grabbed the edge of the tablecloth and the rest of the clams flew to the floor, falling with a slimy pop on the already well-studied body. tears and snot flowed, but the octopus did not react in any way, closing the mouth of the sodomite with its mouth opening, where all the tentacles converge.

pink dreams shattered, flying against the great walls that served as a barrier to what sanzu so wanted to achieve. did he deserve to die like this? the winner was none other than an eight-legged creature, who turned out to be the one who so fiercely controlled fate and haruchiyo's entire life, ending it. first in childhood, pulling into its dark abyss, attracting insects and other small inhabitants, worms and maggots crawling through the nooks and crannies of the very brain of little haruchiyo, getting inside, changing everything that was ordered by takeomi; and then now.

…hathor, pretending to be sekhmet, does not hide the desire to shed someone else's blood, hacking from the shoulder, laughing loudly.

the animal finally finished sanzu off: he continued to cling to everything, making only more mess, clutching at his throat, thinking that this would help or endear the mollusk to himself, if only he would stop strangling him so much, painfully and sweetly, tearing him to pieces, crumbling with love, with all the pills and powders wonderful, borrowed alice lidell herself, the wrong one, the wrong one.

everything comes to an end. sanzu stopped fighting, lowering his hand, rolling his eyes, blinking only with whites, praying with his mouth open, as all the great martyrs of god prayed. only now he is revered as saint lyudmila will not be.

#tokrev #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers sanzu #tokrev sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo

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galaxysiegefics · 2 years

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Early Sunsets (Angst)

Hello there! Welcome to my first ever fan fiction on this blog. My first attempt at wooing the community is going to be an Anakin Skywalker X Jedi Reader entry. This story will go to the lyrics of Early Sunsets over Monroeville by My Chemical Romance. This super angsty idea came to me on a whim and I couldn’t think of a song to fit it better. I truly hope that you enjoy reading, and even if you don’t, please do let me know. Also, feel free to request characters and scenarios for me to work on in the future. :)

This is a story in which you watch the dark side take over, consume, and snuff out Anakin. You start off as lovers and get to read through a bit of fluff but things get intense very fast! This does not have a happy ending. You have been warned. This fic will guide you through a preface and 5 other sections along with matching lyrics for each part!

TW AND RATING>>>

Rated PG in all honesty. There is no bad language, no sexual themes, no gore, and no violence (for the most part). The only trigger warning I have to offer is possibly major character death(s)... There is also an instance of one argument.

____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____ ____

PREFACE

-“Late dawns and early sunsets Just like my favorite scenes Then holding hands and life was perfect Just like up on the screen”-

For a little less than ten years, you had known of the name Anakin Skywalker. In fact, your tongue spoke the name as many times as your ears had heard it in conversation. Every time your ears made contact with his name, you couldn’t help but think of his husky, cocky-mannered, voice. There was something you always found super overwhelming about the way he spoke, especially when he most confidently spoke your own name.

Even better than the young Jedi Knight’s voice were the way his hands felt and the way his legs would carry him. His foot fall created a pattern that you were more than keen in recognizing. Most days, you longed to hear the click of his brown boots trailing up behind you- but his hands...

Anakin’s hands wielded a lightsaber, made the force serve him, and more often than not left your heart ticking like a snare drum in your busy head. They were rough yet soft, calloused and yet oh so comforting, one warm and the other metallic and cold. At his very touch your skin would catch alight as if the dermis layers of your body were on fire. You never got used to this, even when his touch became yours to behold.

There was a certain intense feeling that had been invading everyone’s minds lately and you were trying without much success to be one of the only people that could manage to tune it out. Your attempts were mostly in vain due to the fact that too many of your acquaintances and friends were fully invested in the toxicity that they were fearing. The horrific Clone Wars were slowly but surely coming to an end, and you thought that you could see the dawn of a new day ahead. Assuming had made quite an ass out of you.

--1--

-”And the whole time while always giving Counting your face among the living. Up and down escalators Pennies and colder fountains Elevators and half price sales Trapped in by all these mountains”-

Finally, it had seemed as if you had earned a day of relaxation with the one you cared for most. Though you yourself were a part of the Jedi Order, you often found it impossibly difficult to shove away your attachments. You weren’t the only one though. Even in this moment as your eyes adjusted to the silver, morning, light, you could listen to the sound of soft breathing at the nape of your neck. Brown curls that weren’t yours tickled your jaw line while your vision finally cleared.

You didn’t dare interrupt the way Anakin was so passionately stuck up against you. Waking him this early would mean you would have to listen to him whine- and even worse, he’d end up taking his warmth away. His hands both held you as close as he could muster, one on your waist while the other cradled your head while knotted into your hair. Often times, his hot skin warded off the thought of using blankets at night due to the fact that he was truly all you needed. Even now the sheets were kicked to the bottom of the bed you were sharing.

Slowly but surely, you began to rise just enough to turn yourself over in Anakin’s grasp. You had been yearning to face him, watch his chest rise and fall, marvel over his boyish features, and maybe even pepper his cheeks and forehead in tiny, drowsy, kisses. When your lover slept, he didn’t whine or speak sarcastically, he didn’t cross his arms over his chest and pout, and he didn’t even roll his eyes.

Even on days where Anakin’s attitude was nearly impossible to take, you dealt with it due to the fact that you knew you’d see him sleeping later on that night, and that you’d see a new look of purity wash over his features. You reached one of your own hands up in an attempt to cup his cheek and run your thumb over his jaw lovingly. Every once in a while, he would swallow hard, and his eyelashes would twitch as if to make you think he was finally waking. This was the purity you always sought out. In your eyes, he could do no wrong.

--2--

-”Running away and hiding with you I never thought they'd get me here Not knowing you'd change from just one bite I fought them all off just to hold you close and tight”-

Finally, after a good half hour of taking in the sight that was your dreaming partner, his eyes had fluttered open. He was now sitting up, holding you in his lap while his chin rested on your shoulder sleepily still. A soft yawn left his mouth before he burrowed his face into your neck.

“I’ve been having terrible thoughts...” Anakin finally spoke up, voice deeper than usual due to just waking.

Your gaze was focused on the sunlight just outside the window as you leaned into his loving touch, “Hasn’t everyone, my love? War certainly creates unease. Just because you’re strong doesn’t mean that you can escape the feeling of encountering loss and destruction.” you tried to remind him.

For a moment he was quiet again and deep in thought before sighing lowly, “I just- I’m unsure if you comprehend the path my thoughts are taking me down.” Anakin’s eyebrows knitted towards each other with concern that you were unable to see in your current position, “I can feel something coming on. Everything feels cold as if I’m about to lose everything. I can’t deal with the loneliness that would be losing you.”

“Who said anything about you losing me?” You wondered remarkably fast, “Who put that into your thoughts? Does someone on the council know about us?”

You were now turned to face Anakin, your heart racing, and panic ready to set in. Your fingers trembled as you rested your hands on his broad and muscular chest. Your brain was consumed with adoration as you gazed at his eyes and then his lips which you leaned in to partake in naturally. You loved how soft yet demanding his mouth always was towards your own and as you tilted your head to the side he pulled away to catch his breath, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Anakin...” your voice carried with sorrow, “Losing you would be the death of me.”

“I’d give you the galaxy and more if I could.” he replied lowly, “I would rather stop talking about this right now. We’re together in this moment, and that’s all that should matter, right?”

--3--

-“And now should I be shocked By the last thing you said? Before I pull this trigger Your eyes vacant and stained And in saying you loved me Made things harder at best”-

Perhaps you should have listened closer to the man that you referred to as the love of your life. Over the course of mere days, you watched his presence that used to burn so bright die down to become dimmer than you’d ever thought possible. Anakin was becoming snappy and rather unhinged with his thoughts. He spoke with malicious intent on his tongue and fervently spoke in an oddly adverse way about the Jedi council and the order itself. You had never seen him so passionately angry towards the lifestyle he had given himself to as just a boy.

The sun had only just set as the two of you sat out on the terrace in complete silence. The energy he was exuding almost felt threatening and caused your hands to become clammy with worry and discomfort. You could tell Anakin was grinding his teeth while he became lost in his thoughts which made you see that he was just as stressed as you were. You watched his eyes narrow at seemingly nothing at all, his shoulders stiff. There was never a time where you ever thought you’d see him this angry. He was normally rather careful about showing you his temper.

“Why must you stare at me? Aren’t you going to ask me about why I’m so upset?” he wondered with a flat tone, “You know something is bothering me and yet we’ve sat in silence now for nearly fifteen minutes.”

You didn’t much enjoy how Anakin was speaking to you but the last thing you wanted to do was escalate the current situation and have both of you begin saying things you didn’t mean. Due to this foresight, you thought long and hard before saying what you wanted to say.

When you finally had the courage to let him hear you, your voice failed you and you found yourself stuttering, “I-I am sorry... Never think that I am uninterested. I haven’t known what to say. It’s just that lately you’ve been harboring a lot of anger and Anakin, you’re beginning to worry me. I’m starting to think that I’ve done something wrong.”

“That you have done something wrong?” he repeated with clear agitation, “You? You’re the only one here that has not wronged me yet, Y/N and you think you’re the reason I’m like this? The problem does not lie within us! I am growing tired of the fact that nobody on that council has ever taken me seriously or ever will! I am overwhelmed by the idea that if something awful were to happen to you that I’d be expected to sit back and watch as if you aren’t what gives me life in the first place. Why are you not just as angry as I am?”

Your saliva felt thick in your throat as you swallowed nervously, and your nails dug into your sides as you held yourself tightly as if you were about to fall apart. Hearing Anakin snap like this wasn’t even just discomforting, it was scary to you. All of this was so alien and absolutely unfamiliar but slowly you began to find yourself getting angry.

“Are you trying to say that you think I don’t love you the way you love me? Of course I am upset for you, Anakin!” you huffed with a growing attitude, “I love you more than life itself but I will not let my hatred guide me... and you should know better than that as well by now!”

“Someone who doesn’t allow themselves to feel anger is weak. It should be hate that drives us to do better for ourselves! I’m sick of this ridiculous code. If I can’t protect you and create the changes I want to see in this galaxy then what’s the point of even being ‘The Chosen One’? What’s the point of being alive?” it was at this point that Anakin finally laid his eyes on you again but instead of anger, you saw that they were brimmed with glassy tears that clouded his vision.

Slowly, he moved to close in the gap that was mindlessly created between the two of your earlier. Ani picked up your hand and brought the back of your palm to his lips followed by your knuckles. His blue- grey eyes met with yours for the first time in nearly an hour now, expression softened.

“No matter what happens, Y/N... Just know that I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

--4--

-“And these words changing nothing As your body remains And there's no room in this hell There's no room in the next And our memories defeat us And I'll end this direst”-

For a couple of months things felt unassuming as if Anakin was back to being himself, the man you fell in love with. He savored every moment he spent with you like normal, doting on how beautiful you looked before bed, playing with your hair between his fingers, holding your face in his hands, and pulling you into his arms at random just to carry you with him. Ani was making you giggle again, your blushing returned along with that beautiful burning sensation his touch brought to you and the pitter patter your heart felt while he spoke against your hair.

Now he was sitting with you on the couch as the two of you drank herbal shig. The citrus was sweet on your lips and he secretly couldn’t wait to taste it later. He had long since placed his tiny porcelain cup back on the table in front of you both and had taken up a section of fabric from your robes into his grasp. Anakin truly had a fascination for you and touching anything on or around you. He was a man of few words most often but his fingers and palms told you everything that you needed to know.

“When the day comes for us to run away, my love... Would you be willing to sacrifice this life you’ve made for me?” he wondered, as you returned the cup to the table.

“Why do you sound so sure that the day will come when we need to depart?” You were quick to query.

Anakin bit at the inside of his cheek, “We can’t live like this forever.”

“But why not?”

--5--

-”And these words changing nothing As your body remains And there's no room in this hell There's no room in the next But does anyone notice There's a corpse in this bed?”-

“Master Anakin Skywalker has passed.” those were the words you never wanted to hear in your lifetime and the fact that Master Kenobi was the one to speak them to you hurt far worse than you had imagined possible.

You felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you as you slid down to the floor, feeling your chest tighten mercilessly as silent tears began rushing in hot trails down your face. Instantly your whole world went numb, and an unfamiliar ringing started in your ears as if you had been flash banged or concussed.

“Dead?” you repeated without realizing, lip trembling as you drew in a gasp of air to keep yourself afloat. In the moment you hardly cared about what Kenobi thought of your depressing display. You didn’t care if it gave away the fact that you were secret lovers with his former padawan. What would the order do about it now, Kick you out? You found it unlikely, and even if they did nothing mattered to you much anymore.

Everything felt like a fever dream as Obi Wan knelt down next to you to offer a bit of support, “I did everything that I could to save him, to bring him back to us... but he killed so many, Y/N... Tried to kill me of all people. There was no saving Anakin.”

You had loved Anakin with every fiber of your being to the point where if he had died there that day you felt as though you would have known immediately thanks to how connected the two of you were in the force. You told yourself that you would have felt his soul leave his body and you believed it whole heartedly. You wanted to think that even after everything that happened that there was still good in your love somewhere.

“I don’t want to hear his name.” you choked back weakly, feeling a shocking pang in your heart. It felt as though somebody had ripped your heart out and pierced it all the way through. Your breathing was labored, and you could imagine that this was what drowning in your own blood would feel like.

Everything hurt until it didn’t anymore. That night after Kenobi had finally left you alone to rest you felt nothing, dreamt of nothing, you felt a release of pressure. You were at peace like you were in the middle of the deepest sleep you’d ever slept.

That next morning when you never got out of bed Kenobi came looking for you and found nothing but the robes you had fallen asleep in. You had died without Anakin by your side only to find out once you became one with the force that he never had. Your love was still out there clinging to life; you were gone. The pain was over.

Your attachment became the death of you.

~FIN

#anakin x reader #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #star wars #fanfic #fan fiction #anakin needs a hug #anakin x you #prequel era #star wars prequels #song fic #song fanfic #my chemical romance #mcr #early sunsets over monroeville

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twerkingoftheshrew · 8 months

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My friend Valkyrie and I made lists of things that are "mecore" for fun. Here's mine.

TW: mention of self harm, NSFW as hell

Soxcore:

Silly knee socks, cannabis, gin and limeade, mismatched footie socks, foxes, fuzzy blankets, cute plushies, creepy plushies, stained glass, colored glass, granny aesthetic Halloween decor, big cocks, 2D muscle men, 2D hot twinks, 2D dommy mommies, cryptids (esp. Mothman), ghost sex, monsterfuckery, jean overall shorts with rainbow straps, band/punny/nerdy tshirts, silky fabrics, stupid adorable cats, mint and dark chocolate KitKats, sprite, original ramune, instant ramen, sailor moon, David Bowie, InuYasha, Fruits Basket, eeveelutions, pins and buttons, pet play, shibari, restraints, holding hands during sex, kitchen witchcraft, wholesome witchcraft, baking sweets for people you care about, one man show in the kitchen, rain in every form, distant thunder, reading smut, toe beans, male ahegao, soft yanderes (all yanderes), impressionist art, making a playlist for every occasion and mood, 2D simping, Ren faire, overcast days, having a moody day, spending the day in bed, cute shoes/boots/heels, rubber toe sneakers (high and low top), cardigan sweaters, nightmare before Christmas, dad hats, witch hats, flower crowns, silver or gunmetal jewelry, vampire movies, goth femmes from 90s cartoons, hugs, gentle casual touches, surprise kisses, tickles and cute pokes, tappy fingies, blushing, being flustered, being oblivious to flirting, being clumsy, being derpy, string led lights, cool spectrum colors (miss me with those warm tones), the sound of water (especially underwater sounds), the moon and stars, walking at night, soft nighttime breezes, running through the woods, shoulder freckles, weirdly good with animals, being shy but polite, being an open book in a comfortable conversation, constant body language, can always read their emotions plain on their face, hand gestures while talking/talking with hands, wild arm flailing (muppet flailing), muppets, tabletop gaming, spring, daffodils, hyacinths, lavender fields, heather meadows, orchids, weeping willows, big old trees, passionate infodumping, platonic cuddling and spooning, granny floral prints, paisley, tarot cards, reading tea leaves, reading runes, amethyst, goldstone, lapis lazuli, smoky quartz, geodes, found animal bones, fangs and claws, pointed ears, oddly shaped pupils, burying your face in things (pillow, crook of lover's neck, cat belly, etc.), early emo shit, random hodgepodge of different 90s aesthetic and nostalgia, those fuckin cups from the 90s with that purple and blue pattern, wildberry poptart colors, wildberry poptarts, smutty dating Sims, hot fictional men who will kill my character, dead doves, the most toe curling fucked up fanfics imaginable, romcom BL, crying a lot, crying from any intense emotional response even if it's positive, crying because of a piece of media, crying for release, crying in the shower, curling up on the floor and clutching yourself tightly while you sob, singing in the shower, singing around the house, singing to my fur children, a live narration of my actions done in song, changing song lyrics to be about silly things, doing character voices in everyday conversation, speaking in meme references, referencing old vines and then having to explain them because someone hasn't seen that one,

gin gins (ginger hard candy), being touch starved, touch as primary love language, sleeping while hugging a pillow, side sleeping, sleeping in, suddenly realizing you've been awake far too long, coming out of a hyperfixation like time travel and figuring out what year you're in now, surprise naps, nap roulette, garlic rye chips, cheese, cheesecake, baby, so so baby, masking mental health in public and to unfamiliar people, thinking no one would ever put up with you, cutting, cutting scars, tattoos that cover scars, piercings and body mods, Oreos, walking down train tracks with a friend, cosplay and LARPing, musical theatre, standing in the rain just to feel it on your skin, stretching like a cat, nose and feet are always cold for some reason, mushroom swiss burgers, psychedelics, MLP:FiM, beanies all winter, choker necklaces, space as an aesthetic, glass pipes and bongs, glassblowing, small venue punk and rock shows, the concert poster plastered bathrooms of a small punk venue, please pet me uwu, neon hair dye, anatomically inaccurate plastic Halloween skeleton animals, clingy but pushes it down, needy but won't ask for things, multiple texts in a row, reading constantly, crowd anxiety, corvids, cephalopods, freshwater shrimp, dying after a fat bong rip/fat dab, simping, passive darling, needing a caretaker relationship, Alolan Vulpix and Ninetails, Greek food, dumbass fudanshi, animal crossing, pop punk, early techno, sad indie, 80s-90s goth kid music, red bean ice cream, ramune flavored candy, Marius from Lez Miz, hobbits, DC, drawn/animated furries, hugging people in fur suits at cons, nigiri sushi, onigiri, the works of Neil Gaiman, femme authored classic literature, classic and modern poetry, occult nonsense, romantic literature, the works of D.H. Lawrence, fantasy fiction, bi panic, "you're so funny" thanks it's a coping mechanism, cast iron wood stoves, generational cast iron pans, family recipes, emerald and silver, dainty works of metal art like broochs, pins and hair pins, band and random sew on patches, night mist, kintsugi (using liquid gold to fix broken things), memories that are so obscure and buried in references and inside jokes it's almost a two person play to explain them,

looking like a Victorian ghost, looking like the host of a punk rock children's show, seaside cliffs, sea storms, Vicky's story in The Gargoyle, The Gargoyle, househusband vibes, chill edits of toonami anime, stupid puns and wordplay, over the shoulder glances, over the edge of sunglasses glances, not getting rid of plushies because you don't want them to be sad and miss you and you're worried about whether or not they'll have a happy life elsewhere, having spoiled fur children because you're a pushover, kissing while crying from happiness, walking arm in arm, face touches, hand on face, hand over hand on face, soft neck and shoulder bites, bite marks, hugging from behind and kissing the top of someone's head, headpats, rubbing your nose on soft things, judging a mug solely by how it feels in your hands, loose leaf tea, having a tea shelf/cabinet, a nice, comfortable pair of boots, lemon, vanilla, clove, sandalwood, sage, lavender, bed head, wants to make you breakfast, embroidering memes and shit posts, wooden rocking chairs, owns way too many accessories, various collections of seemingly mundane items that have more meaning than they should, casually sex/sexual health positive but shy about personal tastes, awkward creetchur vibes, gives genuine compliments to strangers often, always gassin up the homies, forced optimism, character/pop culture mini backpacks, sunglasses with colorful lenses, I like you so I did a deep dive of your Spotify, can and will remodel the house for you, "I can fix that", "please let me put together the furniture it's like a big puzzle!", painting/customizing bits of furniture or clothing because I got bored, making friends in the smoking area, smoke breaks because I'm anxious/overstimulated, telling the band "great show" at the merch table, things that glow in the dark, fireflies, forest rivers and streams, moss covered stones, trees or tree roots that have a surprisingly comfy place to sit, reading a book outside, the smell of books, libraries, old libraries, book spines under fingertips, page edges and corners against fingertips, holding a book to your chest to feel the story close to your soul, overcast days that press down on your soul a bit and make everything feel slightly heavy and bittersweet, crock pot meals on cold days, clutching the edges of sweater or hoodie sleeves, frost covered grass, misty dawns, museum dates, chai lattes, nose boops, edible mushrooms, flowering trees, needing white noise/music to sleep, borrows your hoodie because it smells like you, walking through a cemetery together reading the stones and imagining the lives of the people buried there, "ooo they have a charcuterie board!", Ghibli food and domestic fluff vibes, will absolutely cook with you or for you, spooky cute, gently bonks my head against you like a cat, slow blinks/bleps of affection, book dragons, I really like this new song so I'm going to listen to it on repeat for hours on end, corner store snack runs, PS2 startup noise

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dreamerstreamer · 3 years

Text

Love Bite

Pairing: vampire!Dream / Clay x human!gn!reader

Summary: [Vampire!AU] Despite how deadly it may appear at first glance, you love your vampire boyfriend with all your heart, so when Clay goes a bit too long without a drink, you’re more than willing to help him.

Warnings: tw// mentions of blood & general vampire shenanigans

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: requested by a lovely anon who wanted to see vampire dream! this was lots of fun to explore, and i hope you all enjoy! <3

You scroll mindlessly along your mouse, your laptop screen illuminating your dim room with a pale glow as image after image pops up on your screen. Your assignment lies long forgotten on the side of your desk, the tab still open just a single click away.

“Whatever,” you mumble quietly to yourself as you click on another link. Your gaze briefly flickers to the calendar on your wall before you shake your head. “I still have another week to work on it—it’s fine.”

Letting out a sigh, you slump over onto your desk, pressing your cheek against the cool wood as you sweep your gaze over to your balcony window. Outside, the sky is dark, the vast expanse washed with a deep, navy hue as the stars begin to peek out from the shadows and gaze down at the bustling city below. It’s a little past midnight now, and despite how late it is, the streets are just as busy as ever. You only catch a small glimpse of the crescent moon hanging among them before your gaze drops to your balcony.

Yet again, it’s empty, completely devoid of life.

The sight makes you frown, and you tear your gaze away from the sight and back to your laptop, continuing your scrolling with a sulk.

It had been a little over four days since you had last seen your boyfriend. Not that you’re counting or anything, of course. It’s just that you’ve gotten lonely without him, and you’re starting to miss him more than you’d like to admit.

Having a vampire boyfriend and being a human isn’t always the easiest, but you’re more than willing to put up with it for him. You can still remember the day he had broken the news to you, having been fully prepared to sacrifice his life right then and there for you if you chose to call for a hunter. But you hadn’t—you chose to stay, to love him.

And love him you do.

There may be times where he has to disappear for a little while that leave you cold and wanting, but the time you do spend together more than makes up for it. He’s overwhelmingly kind, honestly stubborn, and always loves to put a smile on your face, no matter how bad of a day you may have had. You can’t possibly count how many times you’ve thrown yourself into his arms with the widest grin on your face, all just to feel him laugh against you with a soft kiss behind your ear. There’s no one else in the world for you, living or undead, and you are willing to wait for him. It’s embarrassing to think about, but you really would walk to the ends of the earth just for him.

Heat creeps up your neck at the thought, and you force it down with a huff, ducking your head back down again and staring at your assignment. You distantly think of your phone sitting next to your bed and the string of messages you had sent him a few hours prior, all of which remain unopened. Kicking your legs, you whine, burying your face into your arms upon your desk.

Tonight is just not your night, it seems.

Just then, you hear it—the unmistakable sound of nails tapping on glass.

Lifting your head, you blink, slowly turning to look over at your window. Squinting for a moment, you can barely make out the shape of a familiar silhouette standing on your balcony and leaning casually against the railing. His golden hair shines beneath the moonlight, and your heart leaps into your throat.

He’s here.

In an instant, you’re scrambling out of your desk chair and across the room. Fumbling with the balcony lock, you slide open the door with a gasp, the cool night breeze brushing against your cheeks with a soft caress. In front of you, the figure shoots you a crooked grin, his eyes flashing with delight.

“Good evening, sweetheart.”

Your heart melts at the sound of his ever-soothing, familiar voice, and you return his smile with one of your own. “Good evening to you too, Clay.” Scanning him up and down once, you gesture for him to come inside as you add jokingly, “You do know you don’t always have to come in through the window, right? I do have a front door.”

His grin only widens at your words, a soft chuckle tumbling from his lips as he ducks his head to step into your room. “I have a reputation to uphold as a vampire, you know?” he hums. The glint in his eye dances with mischief. “Twilight was the one who said that windows are the way to go.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, your lips twitching with amusement. “Are you really sure you want to use Twilight as your vampire role model of all things? Why not use...” You pause for a moment, then lift a finger. “Dracula?”

A grimace skitters across his face as he pulls the balcony door shut behind him. “Dracula may have been scary, but he was also an old man and, like, super creepy. At least modern vampire fiction makes us sound less gross.” His eyes gleam devilishly. “And also hot.”

You gulp, stepping back until your hand is brushing over the soft covers of your bed. “Well,” you ask softly, “do you think they got it right? The way they portray you guys?”

His lips split into a sly grin, his teeth flashing in the starlight. “I dunno, darling,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low whisper as he dips his head closer to yours. “You tell me.”

Your breath catches for all but a second before you’re gently pushing him away from you with a giggle. “Nice try,” you say, leaping onto your bed with a teasing grin, “but I’m not feeding your ego any more. You do that enough on your own.”

He feigns a wounded look, climbing into the space next to you with a hurt pout. “Aw, bummer. At least give me a kiss, then.”

For a second, you pretend to think about it, mulling the decision over in your head just to watch something needy spring to life in his eyes. Then, you smile, leaning in close to his face with your mouth hovering over his. “Just one.”

You only manage to see a sliver of his lovestruck smile before he presses his lips to yours, your eyelids falling shut. You can just barely feel his sharp fangs brush against the skin of your lip, and the thought makes you croon into his mouth. A certain fondness blossoms behind your ribcage, and your lungs almost feel as though they’re too tight to breathe. He’s cold against you, and when he lifts his hand to cup your cheek, you shiver at the feeling of his icy skin against yours. Everything he does sends a chill rushing down your spine, but when you part just a moment later, you already feel yourself missing his touch.

Brushing his nose over yours, you feel him inhale sharply against you, and the breath he lets out is positively trembling. “God,” he whispers into the side of your face, his voice rasping ever so slightly, “you smell so good.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest at his words, and you feel warmth blossom across your collarbones. “I’m flattered,” you say gently, reaching a hand up to press against his shoulder. Instantly, he melts into your touch as you subtly shuffle back across your bed away from him. “But you’re the one who told me I’m not allowed to let you drink from me.”

His lips part for a moment, and you catch a gleam of the moonlight flashing across his fangs. Swallowing, he runs a hand through his hair and sighs with longing. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” His eyes dart up to meet yours, his gaze swimming with a deep, drowning sense of sorrow. “You know that I’d never, ever want to hurt you, right?”

A smile tugs on your lips, sincere and true. “Of course I do,” you murmur, “and I promise you that you won’t, even if you did drink from me.”

You pause for a moment, then slowly reach a hand up to your shoulder. You don’t miss the way his eyes widen at the sight, and you almost swear you catch an inkling of crimson swirling within his viridian gaze as you lean your neck to the side. “It’s okay if you want to, alright?” you whisper, swallowing.

His eyes are glued to your neck, and you can almost see the storm that rages just beneath his skin. Your chest aches at the thought, knowing just how conflicted he must feel right now. When he doesn’t move, you drop your hand back down to the bed, your gaze focused intently on his.

“I trust you,” you say, pouring every ounce of honesty you can into your words. “Can you trust yourself?”

For a moment, he simply stares at you, his lips parted as his emerald eyes rake you up and down. They’re wide with hunger, an expression you had seen many times before over the months, but not one you had become fully acquainted with. You fidget a little under his intense gaze, and you’re just about to open your mouth again when suddenly, his hands are reaching for yours on the bed.

You gasp as he intertwines his cool fingers between your warm ones, your heart leaping for joy. You let your eyelids flutter shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, drinking in your sweet scent as your warm breath tickles his cold skin. You love the quiet moments like this, the enamoured silences that envelop the two of you in your own little bubble as the world seems to slow down. Sucking in a breath, he shudders at your touch, his hand squeezing yours.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly for you and you alone to hear. “You’re too good to me.”

You smile at his words, your heart fluttering in your chest, but something uneasy sinks into the pit of your stomach at the bittersweet tone of his voice.

He didn’t answer your question, a voice whispers from the back of your head. Why didn’t he answer?

A moment later, you push the feeling away, nudging it back into the dark crevices of your mind. Instead, you choose to focus on the feeling of his skin pressing against yours, soothing and soft as you relish in the moment. The moon’s crescent frown seems to deepen from her perch in the sky, but she remains ever silent, only watching with her patient, pallid gaze.

You’re probably just imagining things.

After that night, time passes by you at an achingly slow pace. Night after night passes without a single sign of Clay, and before you even know it, a week and a half has flown past you without so much as a call. You text him as often as you can, and more often than not, you do actually get a response. Seeing the notification of his name pop up on your phone screen makes you smile until your cheeks hurt, and you’re always eager to hear back from him, but you can’t help but miss him as the hours drag on.

An empty, hollow feeling sinks into your chest as you curl up in your bed, the blankets strewn around you haphazardly as you blink over at the closed curtains draped over your balcony window. You haven’t bothered to look outside for a few nights, now—you already know that he won’t be there, as much as you want him to be. Even now, you can imagine his grinning face and teasing pokes as clear as day. The loneliness gnaws away at you as you turn onto your side, facing away from the window.

You hope he’s safe no matter what he’s up to, right now. You know better than anyone that sometimes, he can be a little too reckless for his own good.

Letting your eyes close, you sink into your pillow, a galaxy of stars whirling around your head as you slowly feel yourself drift off into a murky dream. Flashes of bright grins and the sound of wheezing laughter trickles through your thoughts, and you sigh at the endearing memories that wrap around your heart. You can almost swear you feel a pair of hands wrap around your own.

All of a sudden, something prods at the back of your ear, restless and sharp. Wincing, you blink a sleepy eye open, your bleary mind sorting through the sounds in your head before landing on one.

Glass—that’s the sound of glass.

Someone is tapping at your window.

Your eyes shoot wide open, and in a whirlwind, you’re ripping the covers off your body and pushing open your bedroom curtains. On the balcony stands a hooded figure, his golden tresses just barely peeking out from beneath the low-hanging cloth. You swallow and grab onto the door lock, slamming it open just a moment later. You shiver at the night breeze nipping at your skin, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less about the cold, your focus entirely devoted to one thing and one thing alone.

“Clay!” you cry, your eyes desperately scanning him up and down. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and instead, his hand reaches to the side to desperately grip onto the balcony railing, his knuckles turning white. Your eyebrows furrow with concern, and slowly, you take a step toward him. You haven’t even crossed the doorway separating the inside of your room to your balcony when he suddenly barks, “Stop!”

You freeze in place, your hand halfway reaching for his when he practically crumples against the railing, curling in on himself with a choked plea. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his chest with a ragged breath, “please. I’m—”

“Clay?” you breathe again, this time much quieter. You shuffle closer to the window glass, your toe just barely brushing against the doorframe. “Are you okay?”

All of a sudden, a snarl rips out of his throat, guttural and beastly. You flinch at the sound for a split second, the worry in your chest only making your heart shake even more. His grip on your balcony railing grows even tighter, and you don’t doubt that it’s going to leave a mark on the metal.

“Don’t come too close,” he pants, his thighs shaking beneath him. “I—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

You purse your lips at him, frustration and confusion digging at the sides of your stomach. “Then why did you come here?”

All is quiet, and he doesn’t respond. The only sound you can properly hear is his uneven breathing as he claws at the front of his hoodie, the fabric bunching beneath his touch. You flick your gaze over him again, and a cold realization suddenly washes over you.

“Clay,” you whisper, the tiniest hint of fear seeping into your voice, “when was the last time you had a proper drink?”

You are once again met with silence, but the way he suddenly stiffens does not go unnoticed by your watchful gaze. Something curls nervously inside your gut, and your lips curl into a frown as you dig your heel into the ground.

“Clay,” you say again, a little louder this time—a little more firmly. “How long has it been?”

There is a beat of silence. Then, he whispers so softly that it’s almost swept away by the wind, “...too long.”

A pang of sorrow shoots through you, a stone dropping into the pit of your stomach. You were right. He’s thirsty. A sigh escapes your throat as you open up your arms, beckoning him toward you. “Come here,” you murmur with all the softness you can muster. “Look at me.”

He shakes his head, and it’s then that you realize you haven’t seen his face this whole time. “Take off the hood,” you say gently. His shoulders tense at your request, and you quickly add a tender, “Please.”

His throat bobs as he gulps, and ever so slowly, his hands reach up to tug at his hood until suddenly, the moonlight is casting a glowing streak of silver across his face. Your eyes go wide.

His kind, lovely eyes, which are typically viridian green and swimming with adoration for you, are now painted a deep, scarlet red, his pupils dilated beyond belief as they lock onto yours.

In all the time you’ve known he was a vampire, you’ve never seen him like this before.

But strangely enough, you’re not afraid.

Instead, you gently reach for his hand, careful to only just lightly wrap your fingers around his. His gaze drops back to the ground again, and while you know he doesn’t have a pulse, if he did, you imagine that it would be going haywire right about now. “Oh, honey,” you whisper. “It’s okay. Look at me.”

Just as you begin to lead him inside to your room does he raise his chin once more, his jaw clenched tight as he takes in your soft, enamoured expression. As he steps inside, you reach behind him to slide the door shut before tugging him back toward your bed. Settling down on the mattress with a loose breath, you let go of his hand. His arms are still shaking at his side when he sits, and it’s then that you open your mouth again.

“Clay,” you say, your voice as clear as a bell, “you can drink from me.”

His crimson eyes widen, and the look he shoots you is one of pure, unadulterated panic. “I-I can’t,” he stammers.

“Yes,” you shoot back, reaching up for the collar of your shirt, “you can.” His eyes trace down the slope of your jaw before landing on the smooth skin of your neck, exposed and waiting for him. His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands squeezing into fists beside him. “It’ll be alright.”

“H-How do you know that?” he blurts, his nails digging into his palm. “What if—what if I lose control and hurt you?” His face blanches at the sight, and he slumps over onto his lap, hanging his head in his hands. “I can’t let that happen.”

You sigh, and he clams up at the softness of the sound. “And it won’t.”

A moment passes in aching, tense silence. You resist the urge to hug him, knowing that initiating any more contact with him would only make him panic even more. “Last time I was here,” he suddenly whispers, shattering the silence with his head ducked down, “you asked me if I trust myself.”

You blink at him as he slowly raises his head, turning his gaze to look at you head-on. “I don’t, [Y/N],” he whispers. “Not one bit.”

Your eyes flash in the darkness of your room, and before you can stop yourself, your mouth opens. “But I do.”

He goes stock still before you, and suddenly, the words are flowing from your lips in a rush, unstoppable and dripping with honesty. “I know you, Clay, and I know you won’t hurt me, no matter how scared you are that you might. I believe in you, and I believe in us.” You press your hand to your chest, your fingers curling over your beating heart. “I love how much you want to make sure I’m safe, but right now, I want to make sure that you’re safe, too.”

If you were looking a little closer, you would have seen the glossy sheen in Clay’s eyes as you tip your head to the side once more, your shirt collar tugged down your shoulder. You bite on the inside of your cheek, your fingers squeezing the sheets. His crimson eyes almost look soft in the glittering starlight of the night, and you feel your chest flood with heat.

“Please,” you croon, your eyes never leaving his. “Go on.”

He eyes you for a moment longer. Then, he’s crawling across the bed toward you, his shaking hand reaching for your shoulder. Gently, he turns you toward him, his other hand cupping your cheek. Slowly, you feel his nose brush against your jaw, something cold pressing against your skin.

“Thank you, darling,” he whispers.

Then, he sinks his fangs in.

A sting shoots up your neck at the feeling, just barely there and slightly sharp, but it’s most certainly nothing you can’t handle. Heat pools around your collar bones as he drinks and drinks, and you feel your eyelids flutter shut. His lips, which are usually cool and soft when they meet yours, feel oddly warm for once, and you sigh at the sensation of your blood pumping from your skin.

You aren’t quite sure how much time passes with him cradling you against him and his mouth lapping at the side of your neck, but soon enough, you can feel a slight dizziness flit around your skull. A soft whimper escapes your lips and instantly, he breaks away from you, his eyes wide with worry as you lean against him for support. You press your forehead against his shoulder for a brief second before sitting upright once more, blinking away the vignette tinting the edges of your vision. In front of you, Clay’s lips are stained with a faint shade of red, but his eyes have returned to the brilliant shade of green you know and love. He grips onto your shoulders a tad tighter than before, his hands reassuringly rubbing against up and down against your arms.

“Oh, [Y/N],” he breathes, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of harm. “I-I’m sorry if I was too rough or anything. I tried to be as gentle as I could, but god, you taste so sweet and I—”

You don’t let him finish his sentence. Before he can even blink, you’re pressing your mouth to his, your tongue swiping at the seam of his lips. The uncanny warmth of his lips against yours makes your head spin more than it was before, and you feel yourself smile against him when you pull back. You can taste the slight metallic tang of your own blood on your mouth as you flash him a grin, his eyes wide with adoration as he drinks in the sight of you sitting before him.

“I’m okay, Clay,” you say with an earnest look. Tilting your head at him, your tongue darts out to swipe at the corners of your mouth. “Are you?”

His eyes never leave yours as he reaches forward to slip your hand into his, his fingers slotting between your own. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, yes, yes.”

His pale skin almost seems to glow in the dim light filtering through your balcony window, and he strokes his thumb over the back of your knuckles. Something inside you suddenly unravels as he tugs you into his chest, holding you close to him as his arms wrap around your backside. You feel him rest his chin atop your shoulder, and you melt into his cool touch. Just as you let yourself let out a loving, hazy sigh against his chest, you feel him whisper into the shell of your ear.

“Would you maybe let me... have another sip?”

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