#the ideal body is having no pupils

[stvolanis]

Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You're a princess locked in a tower and guarded by a big, scary dragon. But is he as scary as it seems? tw: female reader, deceit, manipulation, murder (not reader), stockholm syndrome(?) My ko - fi <3

As the youngest princess, you'd always known you would end up like this. In some far off land with little to your name other than some jewels, stuck in a tower just like your mother had been before she got married to a foreign lord, and finally allowed to re-join society. It was such a cliche it was funny at first, but now you just felt like screaming at the top of your lungs from boredom.

At first you didn't feel the unknown presence. The tall man was lurking in the shadows, as if part of the ancient building. You could smell the herbs in the air around him - the minthy fragrance trailing long after he had retired to his chambers. Then little by little you started to recognise him - in certain shades of sunlight, in the back of mirrors, in the tiny lizards crawling at the corners of the stone walls. But nothing could prepare you for that first morning when you saw him - really saw him.

You had woken up early, startled by noise reminiscent of that a bird makes during flight - but multiplied tenfold. You had looked through the window with a weak, fluttering heart. And then you saw his true form - massive yellow wings covered in what looked like pure gold burning brightly in the sky. Long, hard body made of sun - kissed flakes; so sharp they could be used as arrows. And a thin, curled tail drawing circles around your tower.

One of his empty moonlit eyes turned towards you, and it was all over. He immediately dissapeared into thin air, the only evidence of his existence being miles of thick gray smoke. But you weren't going to let the only living creature around run away so easily.

"I saw you!" You screamed long before you could even begin thinking of proper etiquette. Ladylike behavior be damned, you were dying of loneliness in this stupid tower. "Please..." You begged, voice hoarse and desperate from weeks of forced silence. "Come here." You continued ruefully, playing with your hair, chest riddled with anxiety - after all you hadn't spoken to a human being in so long.

You heard a long, almost pained sigh, which made you turn around. You were greeted by a tall brooding figure. It wore the face of a man, but its long golden hair and broad, muscular shoulders pointed to something a lot less human and a lot more devine. He must have been twice your size - trully intimating in all his shining glory. Even in his human form his skin seemed to glow just like his sharp almond - shaped black orbs, constricted in his yellow pupils.

"I'm always here, Your Highness." You remember his exact words simply because you were taken aback by how soft his voice was - just like fine silk. It wasn't the voice of a dragon, but the voice of an angel. "You just never see me." He added with what you then assumed was a hint of playfulness, but now recognised as annoyance. With that he leaned against the wall, crossing his hands together.

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

Many months passed since that fateful day. You slowly got to know your new companion - or perhaps, guardian. You learnt that many called him Cain after the fallen son* - once a strong soldier of the Lohemian Kingdom, his injuries had made it impossible to keep fighting. That's how your father found him - abandoned by his brothers, lying in a mudded puddle of his own blood. The rest was history.

He didn't speak very much - but he never left your questions unanswered.

"Cain..." You'd call out with practised uncertainty. Even so far removed from your peers, you still couldn't escape the twisted societal ideals of propriety. You could never be too eager to speak to a man - even if he wasn't fully human. "Is that your real name?" You wondered, genuinely curious. You slowly looked away from the book you were holding and towards your friend, the book long forgotten. The dragon was sitting in the other corner of the room. Despite all the time you had spent together so far, he was still hesitant to come near you. There was a certain stiffness in his strong shoulders - as well as his jaw.

"Princess..." The man mumbled softly, your heart aching by the sheer tenderness of the term. Usually you'd pay it no mind as it was your right from birth, your title - but titles didn't matter here. There was no place for status or riches between those four intimate walls that always felt small despite the spacious squares. "Don't you know curiousity got the cat's tongue?" He responded with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - even his smiles were serious and stoic.

"You have it all wrong." You huffed, standing up from your comfortable chair just to make a big, dramatic gesture with your hands. "It's curiosity killed the cat." You stated confidently, waving your finger at the dragon. He let out a soundless chuckle and averted his gaze away from you. He still couldn't get over the fact that you weren't afraid of him.

"Whatever my Princess says, goes." Cain teased, eyes narrowing further - now they looked like two pitch black slits. He tuck one disobedient lock of gold behind his pointy ear, making the glass beads of his earring jingle in tone. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He whispered with slight condescension, toying with the dancing little crystals. "My name is Kaajin, if you must know. I doubt you can spell it. It's in Lohemian." He suddenly stared at you as if in a challenge. "Does this change anything? Anything at all."

You shook your head - of course no. There was little your protector could do to make your feelings change; not when you had been so terribly alone without him. Not when he looked at you as if you were precious - breakable, yet precious.

************************************************************************

The days went by slowly. There was nothing there to help pass the time - just your voice and his voice blending together in the echo of the tower. Again and again and again.

"Entertain me." You asked authoritatively, looking at your friend from down below while you were sitting on the ground. You were bored - so very bored. "I don't remember ever signing up to be your personal jester, my Princess." Cain, no, Kaajin replied succinctly, showing off two pointy fangs - and you couldn't help recalling the story of the Sleeping Beauty and the spindle that sent her into deep, eternal slubmer. You wondered how his teeth would feel against your finger - and your throat. Whether they'd tire you or save you with the kiss of true love.

"Please?" You asked sweetly, just the way he liked - just like you had done that cold winter day in December when you first met face to face. It seemed to work, because soon after that you could feel him move through the room with a tired step - ever so dramatic, closing in on you. "Sure." The dragon breathed in your ear, enjoying the way the flesh quickly reddened with emotion. He reached behind the sensitive shell and slowly waved his fingers just short of your nose. In his hand just milimeters from you was hanging a thin silver chain with a little red rose dangling down. "Here. Have fun." He let it slip past his slender fingers and you swiftly reached to catch it before it could break in thousand pieces.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" You asked, puzzled - still looking at the delicate bracelet and the way it seemed to come alive under direct sunlight. "I am not a child." You suddenly puffed, stuffing it into the pocket of your long skirts. Kaajin only clicked his tongue, gently tugging at your wrist until you took it out of your pocket. "Don't be so ungrateful." His strict yet plush voice took you out of your little outburst, and you finally looked up. His eyes were measuring you up, scanning for any hidden movement - any secret emotion. "I am a dragon, remember? We tend to be awfuly protective of our things."

Your eyes filled with curiosity once again. "You mean your jewels?" He nodded rhytmically, trying to keep his composure at the mention of his old, forgotten customs. "I've read some stories about dragon kings stealing piles of golden coins and locking them away for all eternity. "You chuckled to yourself. "Like they could ever use them." Even after all those years you still found the thought amusing. Humans spent their youth slaving away so they could waste the money gained once they were old and wise. Dragons, on the other hand, were satisfied with holding onto wealth and jewels and all those shiny human things - with little understanding of the subejctive value they held in the human world.

"Yes. It's true indeed. Dragons-" Your guard nodded yet again, now somewhat uneasy. "We take good care of our..." He averted his eyes far away from you. "treasures." He finished stiffly, gaze basically burning the ground. "So you shouldn't take my gift lightly. You should wear it with pride. And perhaps in time you'd find another use for it, too." The man explained, a slight blush spreading across his usually high, cold cheeks.

You smiled gingerly, kissing your fingers around the chain before pressing it to your chest - close to your heart.

"I shall cherish it forever, then." You exclaimed, feeling warm inside. You were uncertain as to why, but your stomach was spinning wildly, as if filled with bubbles. "But you still owe me some fun." You giggled, running to start the old phonograph in the corner of the room. It was your favourite thing in the whole world - which didn't mean a lot up here, but it was enough to make your legs move on their own.

As you danced to Vaarlen's famous spring waltz, the air seemed lighter and the cramped hall just slightly more grandiose. It was easier to breathe. You extended your hand towards your dragon, asking him to join.

"You know I don't dance, princess." He grunted, his mood souring. He never told you why he hated it so much, but the man was never too fond of music. Still, you decided to try again. "Oh, come on. Just this once." He didn't seem convinced. "Let me teach you as a thank you gift. I'm serious." You tapped your chest playfully. The man rolled his eyes, then gently took your hand in his. You almost broke into a giddy giggle - for the first time since your family locked you up in the rotten tower you felt happy.

And he always gave into you.

So you two danced, both lost to the music and your own racing thoughts. Kaajin kept his distance, but his hold was strong onto your wrist - unrelenting, like he never wanted to let go. Your body twisted and turned, perfectly synced to the chords, blind to the pass of time. You only realized it had become evening once your back hit the window - it was dark outside. Yet another day gone. Yet another day lost.

"Kaajin..." You could feel the tears burning at your wet lashes before you could stop yourself. You had promised yourself not to think about it anymore - not today, or ever for that matter, but it was impossible once you were faced with the Creator of All. The Master of everything, of everyone - time. How could you ever pretend otherwise?

"Do you think-" You bit the inside of your cheek, your hands fighting the guilt as you let go of his. "Do you think my father would ever let me go into the outside world?"

The guard gulped dry, taking a step back to give you space.

"I-" He took a deep breath, gaining the courage to look at you. "I don't know. The war is still going. Your kingdom has lost many brave men and women. Even the strongest soldiers are starting to capitulate." He couldn't bear to look at your pretty face all messed up by the pain and sorrow, but it was for the best.

"I understand." You muttered, turning your back to him - curling back into yourself. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you remained quiet - neither fighting it, nor embracing it. "Don't cry, my princess." The man whispered. "No matter what happens, I will always be by your side." He meant it. You knew it by now, and that only made it all the more tragic. "I swear on my life." You believed him, you had no reason not to - he was the only one you had left.

As for your father, he couldn't really give a proper order now, Kaajin thought. After all, dead men tell no tales.

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere dragon #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut

[bottomoftheriverbed]

the school I bring up every time I talk about how fucked up Ofsted are has just been rated inadequate after not having an inspection for 12 years. And just- I feel so much for the pupils cause the main concern is that they are not safe at school but at least the fact that it's been heading down the drain for years is in the open now cause it's got such a good reputation and it's been regarded as the best state school in Bristol for years so at least every one knows how bad it is now.

#also they're statement is just b-but we have good results and a diverse student body like #a) your teaching provision has been rated requires improvement #you do the absolute best you can as a state school to only take pupils whose parents can pay for tutors and shit #and if even ofsted (whose whole thing is test test test) is saying that you test not teach maybe you have a problem #b) your muslim pupils explicitly asked you not to put mocks during ramadan and you did anyway #and you were named after a slave trader and refused to change it despite pupils asking for years until a year ago #so maybe diversity isn't your strong point #and c) YOU HAVE A HUGE FUCKING SAFEGUARDING PROBLEM #i mean how bad do you have to be that your literally the ideal ofsted school and they still rate you inadequate

[evansbby]

𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲! (𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞) (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark!Steve, possessive Steve, alcohol consumption, mentions of: inebriation. 18+ minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve and omega find themselves at yet another frat party. 

“You having fun, baby?” Steve whispers in your ear before he resumes pressing kisses down your neck. He’s got an almost finished beer in one hand, but his other hand is free to fondle you. He rubs up and down your bare arm before his fingers settle on your thigh and give it a squeeze.

You’re at another frat party with Steve, and they’ve become slightly more bearable now. But the loud, thumping music and the bazillion bodies crammed into one frat house still make you extremely nervous. As does the copious amounts of alcohol that everyone around you seems to be downing — especially Steve, who’s consumed about seven beers, plus plenty of shots (yes, you were keeping track).

“It’s alright.” You answer his question, hoping no one is watching while Steve practically devours your face and neck with sloppy kisses. He’s clearly a bit drunk. And of course, very horny, since he’d dragged you into this dim corner to make out about ten minutes ago. And you were thankful for the semi-privacy, because before that he’d been pawing at you and sticking his hands up your dress in front of everyone — which wasn’t ideal but Steve never cared what anyone else thought.

“Mm, doesn’t sound like you’re enjoying yourself.” He muses, bringing his beer up to your lips, “you sure you don’t want a taste, baby? To loosen you up a bit?” His pupils are dark and dilated, but there’s a glint in them all the same as he nudges the can against your lips. “C’mon, omega, one tiny sip?”

“No thank you, Steve,” you say politely, shooting him a pleading look. Alcohol of any kind still scares you and brings back bad memories, but you’re happy that at least Steve’s a happy drunk.

He shrugs and downs it himself. And then his eyes narrow and you follow his gaze towards a bunch of girls in the middle of the room. They’re clearly drunk, stumbling around and climbing on top of a table to dance.

“Stupid sluts.” Steve comments darkly, clutching you closer to him as if he thinks you’ll run and join them or something. “Those are the type of girls who’ll never find a mate. No alpha is interested in slutty attention-seekers like that, you understand?” He strokes your hair like you’re his pet, leaning down to give you another possessive kiss, “You’re lucky you’re nothing like them, baby. You’re sweet and innocent, and—”

“Steve! There you are! I’ve been looking for you all night! I was wondering if you could give me some feedback on my performance in the last football game?”

It’s Jake Jensen. He sidles up to the two of you with an eager grin on his face and a drink in his hand, and Steve mutters a string of curses against your lips.

“Go the fuck away, Jensen. What have I told you about approaching me outside of football?” Steve grunts, glaring meanly at the younger alpha. And then he pulls you closer against him with a firm, possessive arm around your waist.

Jensen’s face falls, “I just thought I played kind of well, you know? Thought I proved myself in your eyes, and I’d love if you could just tell me what you thought—”

“You’re the shittiest player on the team, Jensen.” Steve says nonchalantly and you wince. How mean! And it wasn’t even true, because you’d been to a few of Steve’s practices now and Jake seemed like he was a good player, in your opinion.

“Oh.” Jake looks crestfallen as he turns to leave. But someone bumps into him from behind, and in slow-motion, the drink in Jake’s hand spills all over you, seeping through your dress and soaking you down to the skin.

“JENSEN, YOU FUCKING MORON!” Steve explodes, pushing you behind him before he grabs a shell-shocked Jake by the collar, shaking the poor freshman boy till his glasses fall down his nose. “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU EMBARRASS MY GIRLFRIEND?!”

Jake looks white as a ghost, “I-I didn’t mean to—” he turns to you with a pleading look in his eyes, “I’m sorry! I’m really, really sorry!”

“It’s okay!” You squeak but you’re not sure anyone hears you. Steve growls angrily when he sees that Jake is talking directly to you. But what happens next is even worse. In his panicked state, Jake drunkenly fished out a handkerchief from his pocket and starts dabbing at your drenched dress with it.

Predictably, Steve loses it.

“ARE YOU FUCKING TOUCHING MY GIRLFRIEND, JENSEN? Are you really that fucking stupid?” Steve gives Jake an almighty push that has the younger alpha staggering back with a fearful look in his eyes. And you know that a sober Steve would’ve killed the poor guy, but a drunken Steve still has a lot of wrath despite his sluggish movements. “You think my girl’s gonna feel sorry for you? You think you have a chance with her? Fuckin’ pawing at her like she’s a free piece of ass?!”

You wince before grabbing Steve’s arm and telling him to stop. But it’s no use and everyone knows it. You’re just lucky that the alcohol in Steve’s system has slowed him down a bit, because sober Steve would’ve murdered the poor boy in ten seconds flat.

“I didn’t paw at her, I was just trying to help her!” Jake protests.

“Are you calling me a liar, Jensen?” Steve seethes. “You’ve had your creepy eyes on my girl since day one, don’t think I can’t tell! I’m not fucking blind, you dumbass moron! I’ll have you kicked off the football team for even looking at her! Hell, I’ll have you fucking expelled, even. How does that sound, dumbass?” He shakes the poor freshman by his collar, “huh? How does that fucking sound??”

Jake looks like he’s about to cry, or piss himself out of fear. Thankfully, that’s when a few other alphas from the football team intervene. It takes both Thor and Sam to pry Steve off of Jensen, and you see Sam whisper something in Steve’s ear as Thor leads Jake away.

“Can you take him away to cool off somewhere?” Sam’s voice snaps you out of your frozen state and you nod, happy to be of some use.

Steve is drunker than you originally thought, and helping his considerably larger, 6’6 frame down the hallway takes every ounce of your strength — which isn’t a lot to begin with.

“Can you believe Jensen thinks he has a chance with you?” Steve scoffs, slurring his words as he leans against you. You thank your lucky stars that he can still keep himself up somewhat, because if he put even an ounce more of weight against you, you’d probably both end up on the floor.

“Flirting with my omega right in front of my fucking eyes!” Steve fumes, more to himself now as you both navigate down this random hallway. You don’t even know where you’re meant to be taking him—you just want to get him as far away from Jake and more alcohol as possible.

“You’re the prettiest girl on campus, as if he ever stood a chance. I should shove his fucking glasses up his ass for touching you like that. Son of a bitch.”

The compliment makes you pause, your heart lifting. Steve thought you were the prettiest girl on campus? Well, he was drunk and not thinking clearly, because it obviously wasn’t true. Not when his ex looked like a supermodel.

You don’t have time to ponder over his words, however, because the big alpha stumbles just as soon as your fingers curl around a random doorknob, and both of you fall into a bathroom that’s thankfully unoccupied. 

“Aha! You dragged me in here so we could fuck, didn’t you?” Steve’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches down to pinch your ass. You yelp softly, but remember not to bat his hand away because you’re not allowed to do that - whether he’s drunk or sober, it doesn’t matter. 

“Wh-What, no!” You protest but he’s not listening. He grabs you by the hips and yanks you forward, flipping the lid of the toilet seat down before taking a seat and pulling you into his lap. 

“Aww, my little baby omega got horny at the party, so you decided to take me somewhere private, hm?” He sponges kisses down your neck, hands slipping up to fondle your breasts through your dress. It suddenly makes you acutely aware of how wet the material still is from the drink that was dropped on you earlier, and the stench of alcohol seems to be sticking to your skin.

It’s when Steve starts fingering your panties and pulling them aside that you jump off his lap and make a beeline for the sink. 

“I’m sorry, Steve. It’s just... my dress is completely drenched.” You try not to let it affect you but you can feel your lower lip wobble and your eyes begin to water. It’s a weird reaction that’s come out of nowhere, but the strong smell of booze only brings back unsavoury memories of things you really don’t want to remember.

“Come back, omega.” Steve orders you, palming his dick through his jeans. “You got me all hard, baby. Well, I’m always hard when I’m with you, but that’s besides the point. Now get back here.”

You try splashing water on your dress and scrubbing away the smell but all that does is make you feel wetter and even more disgusting. Panic begins to set in, what if the smell never came off? What if you were doomed to spend the rest of the party in this booze-soaked dress? The smell was already taking you back… all you had to do was close your eyes and you were back at home, with all the yelling and screaming and hitting and–

“No, no, no!” You shake your head, sinking down to the floor. It’s only when you try (and fail) to breathe that you realise you’re having a panic attack.

“Hey. Come back to me.” Steve’s voice cuts through your racing thoughts, his warm hands cupping your cheeks and his potent scent helping you breathe. “Come back, omega. I’m right here.”

You feel tiny in his arms as he draws you close, but you can’t help but hug him so hard that he stumbles back a few steps.

“Don’t like the smell.” You whimper against his chest. “It won’t come off my dress, Steve. I’m sorry.” You don’t know why you’re apologising but you have feeling so helpless and panicked. All you want is to go home and take a warm shower where you scrub yourself raw to get this smell off of you.

“Well, that’s an easy fix.”

Steve rips your dress in half. One second, it’s on your body. The next second, you’re standing there in your underwear, the material of your dress torn in two sorry-looking rags in either of Steve’s hands. Your alpha smirks triumphantly, as if he’s just solved world peace and world hunger all in one night. “See? Problem solved.”

“B-But how will I get home? I have nothing else to wear!”

Your alpha shrugs off his own sweatshirt and pops it over your head. And it’s like every single worry dissipates from your mind once the soft, heavy material of his sweatshirt hits your skin. It’s thick and of good quality, and so much cosier than the tight dress you’d had on. Plus, it smells absolutely heavenly.

“Thank you.” You hug him again, pressing your face against his bare chest. On any normal occasion, you’d be way too shy to show this much affection to him. You have problems giving him simple eye contact and holding his hand, hugging him is something you can’t even imagine doing off your own accord. But you’re so thankful to have the alcohol-soaked dress away from you, that Steve may as well be your knight in shining armour right now.

A very drunk knight in shining armour.

“See, there isn’t a problem I can’t solve.” Steve boasts, hugging you back and kissing the top of your head. He’s always touchy with you but it’s usually a lot more lewd. This, standing here hugging in a stranger’s bathroom, slightly swaying together, it feels a lot more intimate. Romantic, even.

He half carries you to the bathtub, and you let out a squeak of protest when he casually just settles down inside it. Lying down and pulling you on top of him, your back to his chest. You giggle, “Steve! You have a huge, king-sized bed at home, you don’t need to sleep here!” (You’re hopeful that he might call an uber and take you home because you’ve had about enough of this party).

Steve booms with laughter, “Home? What am I, a pussy? Let’s just rest our eyes, and then we’ll go back downstairs and party some more.”

He doesn’t rest his eyes, however. For the next five minutes, you lie there while he just… stares at you. His blue eyes dilated till they’re practically black, blinking down at you where you lie on his chest. But you’re far too cosy to feel uncomfortable, with the combined heat of Steve’s bare skin and the sweatshirt you’re wearing keeping you cocooned in delicious warmth. You just wish the alcohol-stench memories would go away, because they keep flashing inside your head every time your eyes grow heavy.

“You’ve still got that look on your face.” Steve muses, heavy hand drunkenly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You look up at him imploringly, “What look?”

“Your nightmare face.” Steve says matter-of-factly, wrapping his arms around you even tighter as your head snaps upwards.

“My wh-what?”

“Your nightmare face. You do it all the time in your sleep. You start frowning and whimpering.” Steve shrugs, tracing the planes of your face with his pointer finger. Stroking your cheekbone before going down to rub over your bottom lip. “A lot of the time, you start doing it when I get up early to go to the gym. But then I just throw your toy at you and it seems to work because you calm down.”

You can’t quite wrap your head around what you’re hearing, “M-My toy?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “The little fluffy guy. Steve Junior or whatever.” He bats his hand dismissively and knocks over a bottle of shampoo and a bodywash, which he seems to find hilarious because he bursts out laughing, “Whoops.”

“I’m sorry!” You blurt out, feeling your palms begin to sweat. “I didn’t realise I had a nightmare face, and it’s not your job to have to take care of me when I… do all that.��

He kisses you, lips soft as a pillow as they work against yours. It amazes you how sweetly Steve kisses you sometimes, and how tender and careful he’s being right now despite the fact that he’s so drunk. Even the taste of alcohol on his tongue doesn’t seem to bother you because it’s him, and you can’t get enough of him.

“I wish I knew what gets you so scared every night.” He whispers against your lips, cupping your face and holding you close. He takes a deep breath, his long lashes fanning his cheekbones as he strokes your cheeks. “I hope it’s not me.”

“It’s not.” You breathe, but it’s swallowed by his kiss, which is more passionate and deeper now as he begins to pull you closer to him. His hands slip up the sweatshirt you have on, cupping your ass and giving it a squeeze. And that’s when you know that the tender moment is over, and Steve is horny once more.

“Just a quickie,” Steve murmurs excitedly, and it’s crazy how quickly his mind has jumped to sex, and you wonder if he’ll remember how sweet he was just a few seconds ago. It made your heart skip a beat, but now he’s trying to peel your clothes off. “C’mon, baby. Gotta be inside you right now. Gotta–”

The bathroom door crashes open at the exact moment, and Steve lets out a string of curse words under his breathe as your eyes register who it is…

“Gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee!” Jake Jensen mutters to himself, clearly unaware that he’s not alone in the bathroom. The sound of him unzipping his fly has you gasping and covering your eyes as Steve jumps to his feet and drags you up with him.

“JENSEN, DON’T YOU DARE WHIP YOUR DICK OUT IN FRONT OF MY GIRLFRIEND, OR ELSE I’LL GOUGE YOUR FUCKING EYES OUT!”

THE END FUK BYEEEEEE IDK WHAT THIS WAS I’M NOT TOO PROUD OF IT, I JUST... IDK HOW TO WRITE STEVE IN DRABBLES BC I DON’T WANT TO DEVELOP HIS CHARACTER, SINCE THAT IS FOR THE MAIN FIC!!!! IDEK YALL FUCKKKKK BYE

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #chris evans #poyt drabble

[nyctophiliq]

✮ ┆ THE IDEAL ART INSIDE YOU. ellie w. (the last of us)

— “at one point, everyone hated themselves.”

description.             everyone experiences art block once in a while, ellie just deals with it differently

content warnings.               MDNI, nsfw content, female bodied reader, art student! ellie, light bondage, ellie is a little rough, light bondage, she also fucks reader with a sharpie, oh and she draws with said sharpie on reader, so basically marking?, possessive & control freak! ellie, wc 1,67k author’s notes.                     you read the warnings? still here? hope you enjoy, you freak >:) pls reblogs are very very much appriciated

ellie who’s fountain of inspiration seemed to never dry up whenever she looked at you, or just thought about a glimpse of you. but as every artist, ellie too hits a rock bottom every once in a while and she just suffers from her art because she hasn’t yet figured out a way to suffer through it.

“my favorite piece of art that I don’t keep fucking up.“ she groans as her left hand comes to catch your throat, fingers clasping around your neck not at all lovingly but ferociously, her other hand palming your forehead while also managing to force your eyes open with her thumb and index finger. even if you wanted to fight back, there was no use for it. one of her wet cloths, the one that is covered in paint because she wipes her face and hands with it after a session in front of her paper is now wrapped around your wrist, tying them behind your back as she forces your legs apart with her knees, spreading them apart to reveal all of that is you, eyes spitefully wandering your nude body.

oh, how she hated you in these moments, when her art seemed to be nothing just a piece of painting that a child did with its fingers, spreading condiments around its plate and you were the mom who couldn’t help but praise her child, clip that god awful ‘painting’ on the fridge and call it a ‘future picasso’. it’s a disgrace to all the incredible painters before her, the ones who have sweat blood for their art not to be called a silly thing, be frowned upon, and to be taken seriously because sometimes words just weren’t enough. you seemed so perfect, your eyes, your lips, your face, your chest, your stomach, your legs, your everything- how could she ever create art as beautiful and magnificent as you?

she couldn’t let that situation to eat her alive, to consume her from the inside out, for it to own her because in the end it was her who owned it, owned you. the aspect, all the things she had admired, and she called you her muse- she made you who you are today just like god made angels to be so perfect, she is the god who birthed you, casted you in stone and made the land worship you as it’s protector.

“you’re mine, you hear me?” she yells, her spit spurting on your face and she pushes your head further into the mattress, her fingers pushing so hard on your skull she might just claw your eyes out. “I created all that you’re, sculpted you to be so ideal.” she rambles, shifting further between your legs, prying them open with so much force your hip start to burn and little sobs ball up in your throat from the discomfort.

ellie gives you a repulsed look as your lips agape, choking on your words, writhing from the same anguishing feeling of not knowing what to do. it truly turns her stomach, your uncertainty as you lie there, your eyes bulging from fear of what is gonna happen next. but your pupils tell a different story to her, that the way parts of your body is reacting goes against each other, and where your legs meet with your hips- it’s almost impossible to overlook the heat that is radiating.

“i own all the rights to you, everything that they see is my talent sacrificed.” she follows up, letting go of your head and reaching into the back pocket of her khaki shorts, and pulls a sharpie out. there isn’t a second that passed between her pulling it out and biting the cap off before she starts scribbling away on the skin that covers the middle of your chest.

the brush of the pen tickles your nerves, jolts running up and down your spine like a horde of wildlife fleeing after a gun shot, your back arching with each stroke she makes. your skin like paper trembling under her touch, but she is too busy to notice. your eyes roll to the back of your head, closing as you relish in the sensation. the ink staining your skin, her touch softening around your neck, the pads of her fingers ghosting over it, a small smile gracing her lips as she moves from your sternum to the top of your breast.

your mouth falls open at her touch, your hips swaying slightly against her knees as she continues to work. her voice hoarse as she speaks, “this will be mine, my masterpiece,” she says, swallowing hard. “mine…” she mumbles, her voice trailing off. she works in silence for what seems like hours, the only noise being your labored breathing and a soft scratching sound from her pen. your eyelids flutter slowly, the darkness encroaching on your until all you can see are stars floating through the room. you are falling into nothing, nothingness.

she switched sides sometimes ago, but you hardly noticed until she pulls away from both your chest and neck, your eyes snapping open as her hand comes to rest on your waist. her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her body tensing slightly. “yes…” she whispers, before biting her lips, pushing her tongue against the teeth that is peaking above. your gaze follows hers until you find yourself staring right into her eyes, their irises so dark they look black.

“mine… I own this body, I own this life… this was always supposed to happen.” she laughs then, dark, and wicked, her words dripping with confidence as she runs her finger along whatever she wrote or drawn on you. “you should see… you should see but where should i-“ she cuts herself off, a puzzled look washing across her features as she tries to find the handheld mirror, simultaneously searching for a place to put the sharpie because she is gonna need it again, she just needs you to see her signature first.

she laughs as she thinks of it, deep and rumbling before she teases your folds with the handle part of the sharpie, collecting all that have been dripping from you the minute your bare skin was exposed to the cool room’s air. you let out a gasp as it slides inside you, a gasp that becomes a whine as she keeps going. you feel tears gather in your eyes as she just leaves it there, unattended and stuck in one place.

“here! see for yourself, see it! tell me what do you think?” manic, that’s how she sounds now, absolutely out of her mind as the sweat starts to glow on her face. she grips the handheld mirror, her hard grip visible as she holds it up above you, giving you the perfect look at yourself.

her signature, all over your chest. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams.

ellie’s face contorts with frustration at your silence, “do i need to coax an answer out of you? come on, give me an answer!” she grits her teeth, her other hand coming to take a hold of the sharpie in you. she moves it back and forth, painfully slow until you manage an answer out, your voice sounding so small you almost believe you imagined it.

“I love it, I love it, I love it!” you laugh weakly when you feel her speed up at your words, her face getting redder and redder. she chuckles softly before she brings the mirror closer to you, angling it so you get a better view of your nakedness and the way your cunt practically sucks the sharpie in.

she looks at you as if you are a prize, as if the mirror has finally captured the image that she desired for so long. ‘I won’, her expression proclaims proudly, her grin wide as the room fills with the sounds of the drenched pen fucking your walls. you wince at some spots, a little more sensitive, but her gaze remains steady on yours, never breaking contact. you try to speak, to say something ,anything, but your throat feels tight, your breath short as she discards the mirror, the soft pad of her thumb rubbing circles on the fleshy parts between your thighs.

you whimper quietly, a moan building up in your throat. you could cry if you wanted to, a hot flood threatening to erupt from your body, begging to be released. you bite your lips, your legs tremble, your nails digging into the bedsheets under you as your vision goes blurry. you blink furiously, trying to refocus. she moves to your clit, circling it with her thumb as your entire body tenses. the slick wetness coats her fingertips as she gives you the few last pushes you need to end up on the other side, for the bliss of your climax whiten your vision and everything that she is.

ellie watches you, excitedly, with a fire burning in her eyes that has never burned before. she looks sick, she feels sick, but in the best way possible as you writhe against her hand, trying to get away from the sharpie that is still residing between your clamping walls. she can see the bigger picture now, the light burning on your skin and the dark in that covers your torso, the overwhelming feeling of coming undone, and her ownership over everything that had occurred. she smiles to herself, proud of her accomplishment, but also anxious to finally begin her next piece.

“just one final detail…” it came quietly, murmured from between her lips as she pulls the sharpie from your, flipping in while her free hand comes to push down on your hip bone. you don’t need to guess, you already know what she’s gonna write, it’s predictable from the expression of her face. twisted grin, with flushed cheeks that are not at all red from embarrassment but rather overcome with pure pride, joy, and glee.

ellie williams was in here.

#📗 — written by moss ! #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou ellie x reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #tlou ellie #tlou x reader #tlou x reader smut #tlou ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie williams x reader smut #tlou ellie x reader smut #ellie williams x you #tlou ellie williams #ellie williams x fem reader smut #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x female reader

[theold-ultraviolence]

Let Them Hear

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary: Not wanting to detatch from one another, you and Aemond put up a show for the two poor servants that came into your rooms to serve you breakfast. // Words: 1.3k. // CW: exhibitionist kink, public sex // A/N: I know I'm swiming in requests but this scenario wouldn't leave my mind since last night, so I had to let it out of my system! hope you enjoy!! x

A long moan, coming deep from your throat spills into the pillows, as you turn your head to one side to elongate your neck and present your husband with more ground to cover with his kisses. 

You’re limbs sprawl underneath Aemond, languid and melting into the mattress from how thoroughly he’s been fucking you all morning long. 

You’d woken up in his embrace and he hadn’t wasted a minute, immediately kissing your sleepiness away from the corners of your eyes and warming your body with his own – more effectively than the sunshine creeping in through the curtains.  

So wrapped up in one another you were, that you’d begged him to call for servants to bring up your breakfast, hesitant to detach for even a second.

He’d happily complied, and once he’d done so, he’d come rushing to straddle you once more, burying himself deep – so, so deep in you, that you’re sure you could feel him in your throat; presence so overpowering that the sound of the birds happily chirping outside dies down, and the only thing you can hear is the lewd, squelching noises his cock makes each time he fucks into you, how his balls slap against your skin mercilessly, and the wet sounds of him licking you and groaning for you. 

“Aemond?” you sigh, to which he smirks and continues to caress your face while wetly kissing your chin and jaw, plunging into you slowly, deliberately. 

“Aemond…?” 

“Mmm…what is it, dear love?” he whispers your name but doesn’t stop kissing you – even deepening his kisses, not letting you speak as he entwines his tongue with yours while his hips increase their pace. 

“Ahh…Aemond…” you moan into his mouth, staring at him with wide pupils swallowing up the color in your lustful gaze.

You entirely forget what on earth you were about to say when he smirks so mischievously, chuckling as he looks down at you with a profound hunger, with his eyes half-lidded and lips glistening. 

“Yes, my love…” He moans as he continues to stroke your face and neck, his breath growing heavier and heavier with desire, when suddenly, a loud knock on the door disrupts your stupor. 

Aemond disregards it and keeps kissing you, prompting more insistent knocks to follow that make you stare at him incredulously – grasping onto his shoulders in a meager attempt at anchoring yourselves back to reality, “Aemond, we should stop…they’ll hear us.”  

“Let them hear.” He emphasizes his words with a couple of sharp thrusts that have you mewling loudly, with your eyes rolling back and toes curling.   

The knocks get even louder and you feel yourself burning with embarrassment, hiding your face in Aemond’s neck to which he just chuckles. 

“Let them listen, let them wait.” He shakes his head, prying your face away from him so he could gaze deep into your eyes. “We’re happy.” 

Aemond preens at the idea of people looking at you and seeing the image of genuine happiness – genuine love in a marriage – the ideal that everyone seeks and yearns for, but that is most certainly but a distant dream, especially among Targaryens.

Hence why it always surprises you, when this exhibitionist side of him surges up whenever you’re out together during royal affairs. Someone so usually reserved, not above proudly displaying his love for you, either to servants or lords.  

“They can hear us enjoying each other in our own bed all for all I care…” Aemond growls into the side of your neck, massaging your back in firm circles before gripping the meat of your ass and thighs to plunge in deeper, as he leans into your ear to hoarsely whisper, “Or why don’t we let them in? hmmmm? Let them serve our meal and see us…give them something to think about for the rest of the day.” 

You moan loudly as his voice sends shivers running down your spine, and you can’t deny that you’re feeling turned on by the prospect of having an audience, mixed with pride and joy over him being this unabashed – of him wanting to show you off, show off your love.

You grin and caress his muscled back, whispering conspiratorially, “well then, let them in to serve our breakfast.”   

Aemond finally smiles like the cat that got the cream, nodding before turning to the door to yell, “come in!” and soon the door opens, and two servants with their hands full enter the bedchamber. 

Shock would be an understatement, as they stand there before the two of you, absolutely paralyzed, but Aemond merely raises an eyebrow at them. 

“You may serve us.” He orders, fixing them with a deadly glare that sets the servants in motion immediately. 

The poor men are blushing intensely, with their hands shaking as they prepare the set up. 

You tense, feeling slightly guilty but Aemond merely adjusts his thrusts to hit from a different angle, with a different pace that has you seeing stars, head tilting back as you moan uncontrollably. 

“Let them listen…” he whispers into your ear before nibbling on its shell and outline, grazing and biting your earlobe, “Let them know who makes you feel this good...” 

You cry out loud from the overwhelming mixture of emotions, from his thick cock to his deep voice to the feeling of his hands rubbing tantalizing circles on your clit and holding your neck so that he can kiss it sloppily, to the layer of adrenaline from having people listen. 

Something shifts in you, making you feel a little bit devilish – so you let go, give one impish look to one of the blushing servants before smooching Aemond’s neck audibly, being obnoxiously loud as you wrap your legs around Aemond and pull at his hair so egg him on to fuck you even harder with no regard for the other people in the room.

Aemond chuckles darkly, perfectly content to play the game with you, as he leans down to lick and suck at your breasts while groaning like a truly depraved man – the vibrations of his moans and grunts against your skin, akin the ground trembling when Vaghar’s about to take flight.  

Aemond’s pistoning picks up at a vicious pace that has your vision going black, grasping desperately at his back, clawing at his shoulders as moan, after moan, after moan tears down your throat hysterically. 

You feel like you’re suspended in an endless black sea of bliss as you cum, and keep going, floating on and on amongst vibrating waves, before sweet kisses to your forehead bring you back to consciousness. 

You blink sleepily, then turn to look at the servants – both wide eyed and red – and embarrassment once more washes over you, making giggle nervously and hide your face in the crook of your husband’s neck. 

He slows to a stop ever so gently, looking up and smiling at you before following your gaze to where the servants are standing awkwardly, waiting for further instructions from the prince.

He nods in a silent command, to which they respond with a court, “yes, my lord,” and dash right out of the door, making the both of you burst into a fit of laughter. 

You look up at Aemond, all starry-eyed and blissed out, lovingly caressing the side of his face and tucking loose strands of silver hair behind his ear, before echoing the servant’s words, playfully. 

“Yes, my lord…” you mock, “I’ve gotta say…that has a nice ring to it.” You smile and arch your eyebrows flirtatiously. “I’d say…if you were to take a little bit of a dominant role with me, my darling…let’s just say I wouldn’t be opposed to  it.” 

“Oh…”

He smirks and roughly grabs your legs to hook them up in his shoulders, not yet pulling out of you. “Is that something my lady love would like, hmm?” He groans right into your ear before kissing your forehead, then your nose – sweet little pecks that soon melt into one long, sloppy kiss on your lips that has you giggling and moaning in it. 

“Aemond, our food will turn cold." You pat his shoulders, "We can try that later…” 

“I’m not hungry for food, dear love…” His stomach growls in the midst of his kisses, making him chuckle for having been betrayed by his own body. 

“Alright, let’s eat.” He grins in a fiendish way, before helping you up and out of the bed. “After all, we’ll need all the energy we can get for later…”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #reader insert #fanfiction #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #my writing

[strixcattus]

Chapter I: Fear/Safety

That's how this works.

History

System check. Go.

Heart: Beating. Incredibly quickly, to boot.

Lungs: Shaky but functional. Airways unobstructed.

Liver and digestive system: Not actively trying to kill you.

Nerves and muscles: Responsive to voluntary commands.

Sense organs:

Paranoid’s eyes snap open, then slam shut again at the sting of light from outside.

Operational. Your eyes have been shut for long enough that the pupils could dilate. You’ve been here for longer than an instant.

Mental faculties: Functioning well enough to progress this far in the checklist. Further analysis is impossible to conduct without filtering it through itself, and thus meaningless.

Backup: Has not yet complained about the systems check.

“Who’s there?” he asks, aloud. His voice is louder than he’d expected it to be.

No one answers.

He opens his eyes again.

He is in a cabin, which is already unusual. Normally, the cabin would be a ways down a path—which ideally would be solid beneath his feet, and if he were to really get his hopes up, would even be open and lined with perfectly ordinary trees.

The cabin is… very nice, actually. Its walls are made of clean stone, with wide, glassless windows. Cloth banners drape from the tops of the walls on either side of an ornate wooden door, and the blade is perched on the edge of a sturdy, carved wooden table—already quite a step up from the other cabins he’s had the dubious pleasure of entering. A warm light filters through the viewing window in the door.

This is a much friendlier place than any other cabin he’s seen, which means it is not to be trusted. The other cabins presented themselves as exactly as dangerous as they actually were. This one is hiding something.

He turns around and grabs for the handle of the door to the outside. It’s well above his head—how inconsiderate of the designer of this cabin. The body he normally inhabits would have been tall enough to reach it easily, but he’s clearly not taking the backseat in that body anymore.

He’s alone, and he is in his own body, his pathetically short, scrawny body that can feel every molecule of this world trying to drag him to the ground.

He finally manages to grasp the handle on his third attempt, legs kicking uselessly at the floor they can no longer reach. The quilt on his back falls to the floor without a hand holding it in place. It’s fine. There’s no one else here to see him, and he can pick it back up once he’s opened the door and escaped this place.

His feet find purchase on the wall beside the door, and he pulls. And then he pulls harder, and then he tries to twist the ring-handle as though that might be the obstacle preventing the door from opening.

It’s not, obviously. It’s locked. Where has he seen that trick before? Right—every time he tried to go somewhere the Narrator didn’t want him.

He lets go and falls to the floor, the bones of his arms clashing painfully with the cobblestones even through the fabric of the quilt beneath him. This is fine. There are more ways out of a cabin than the door.

The windows on the right are just low enough for him to look out—and no doubt low enough to climb through. The Narrator might never have bothered to mention them, but they’re still a viable escape route.

He clambers up to the frames of the windows and looks down.

The ground spans out far beneath him, a dry plain with steam rising from the ground. It’s certainly a far cry from the woods he’s used to, but that will just make it easier to see any ambushes coming, and the fall still looks safe enough. He’ll be fine. He just needs to go back and grab his quilt, and then—

His footing slips and he falls forwards into the window, all hopes for a controlled landing vanishing from his mind. If he’s lucky, he’ll get away with a broken arm. If he isn’t, it might be one of his joints that snaps, or even his skull—

His face collides with an unseen barrier, and he’s sent sliding back onto the cabin floor, facing a harsh landing for the second time in as many minutes. At least this one isn’t far enough to break any bones.

The windows won’t let anything pass through them. Of course they don’t. Do they even exist on a conceptual level? Is that why the Narrator never mentioned them?

Fine. There is one more exit he hasn’t tried. He’ll just have to play into the Narrator’s games. That’s how this works.

The Narrator, who is still not present.

Quilt back in place, he takes the blade from the table and grips it in his beak. The handle of the other door is even higher than the first. He’ll have to jump and hope he’s lucky enough to maintain his grip.

His fingers slip out of the ring on his first attempt, but he manages to grasp it on the second, and this door swings open the moment he’s caught hold of the handle, as though the cabin itself wants him to enter the basement. He drops to the floor and steps onto the stairs, slipping the blade beneath his quilt.

The stairs are as polished as the cabin, with a soft carpet to match the banners. Beautiful candelabras light the way down—a nice change of pace from the basements lit with starlight alone, if that.

“Is that you, my hero?” asks the Princess from somewhere unseen. Her voice is clear and innocent.

Great. She’s as much of a liar as the cabin.

“No, that’s someone else,” he mumbles as he descends the final few steps to see what, exactly, he’s working with.

The Princess is actually exactly where she’s supposed to be—at the other end of the basement, beyond another carpet, beneath another tantalizingly open window, and with one hand in chains. A second chain hangs ominously on her other side, leading to nothing.

She herself looks like an ordinary princess, with a golden tiara atop her head, wide eyes, and the most extravagantly puffy dress Paranoid has ever seen—not as though his sample has much in the way of puffy dresses, but he still feels safe asserting that this one is particularly puffy.

She tilts her head to one side. “...Is that you?”

She’s fishing for information. He’ll have to ensure he doesn’t give her any. Play dumb.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, gripping the blade tighter. “Do you know where we are?”

The Princess shrugs. “We’re in a basement! And above that is a cabin. And outside that… I’m not sure.”

“Who locked you down here?”

She pauses for a moment, then shrugs again. “I don’t know! But it doesn’t matter anymore, right? Now that you’re here to free me?”

She’s playing dumb, too, isn’t she? And what’s more, she’s better at it than him. He’ll have to be more direct or he’ll never get anything. “Who are you?”

“I’m… a Princess?” Her voice shakes a little, as though she’s unsure if this is the answer he wants to hear. “Oh! If you need a name, you can call me the Damsel.”

Damsel. A damsel in distress. Something to be rescued. Or an innocent. Of course, this is all assuming she’s telling the truth about what she is, and since she’s a Princess, by default I can’t rely on that.

“What do you want?” he asks, squinting at the Damsel.

Her response is quicker than her previous ones. “I want to leave!” Of course she does. She’s a Princess, after all. “And then after that…”

The Damsel trails off into thought, and Paranoid leans forward. “After that?”

She shrugs. Again. “I don’t really know! What do you want to do after we leave?”

“Get far, far away from this cabin,” Paranoid whispers. It should be soft enough that the Damsel can’t hear him, but she tilts her head when he speaks nonetheless. “Do you know how you’d get out?” he asks at a more normal volume. It’s a risky question, but at this point it’s probably the only way he can get any real information.

The Damsel shrugs. Maybe she’s not as good at playing dumb as Paranoid thought, if she only has one strategy—but she is still managing to dance around all his questions without missing a beat, which means she very much has one up on him. “I don’t know! Don’t you have any ideas?”

She cannot possibly be this incapable. She’s a Princess. She has to have a way out. She’s just playing dumb so he can let his guard down and she can strike.

Maybe he ought to strike first. But that would be showing his hand before he can see hers, and if she has something up her sleeve he doesn’t yet know about, it could spell the end for him. Then he’ll just wake up in a new cabin, and she’ll be even more of a threat. That’s how this works.

There’s something strange about that shackle on her wrist. He can’t see it, but he knows there has to be something. Some way she has more power than it seems she does. Something she has over him. That’s how this works.

She wants to use him. For what, he can’t tell. She’s a lot more cagey than the other Princesses he’s met. But she clearly wants to use him for something. That’s how this works.

That’s how this works. There’s a set narrative, and he has to figure out where everything fits into it before it swallows him whole.

Her hand. It’s not unusually slender, but it is slight enough, and the shackle large enough, that her hand has already half-slipped through her chains. She could probably slide it all the way out on her own.

And the moment she sees weakness in him, she will do so.

The Damsel tilts her head, and he remembers that the normal thing to do in this situation would be to continue the conversation. Anything out of the ordinary might tip her off that he knows that she knows she has the upper hand, and then there would be no reason to keep lying.

“No. I don’t know how I would get you out.” I know full well how you would get out, but there’s not a chance I’m enabling it. I’m just going to stay right here until I have you figured out, and then I’ll find my ticket out of this cabin.

She frowns. “Really? But… you’re supposed to save me. That’s how this works.”

That’s how this works?

That is not how this works. They’re supposed to slay Princesses, not save them, because even though the Narrator who ordered them to is clearly an untrustworthy sack of half-truths, the Princess they’re meant to slay is just as clearly a world-ending monstrosity who would be one step away from ending them if she didn’t need them to…

…If she didn’t need them to escape. Is that what this is? That’s how this works? She can’t just take her hand out of the chains because she needs him to do it for her?

Only one way to find out. He’s probably going to regret this. “Isn’t that chain big enough to slip over your hand? What do you even need me for?”

The Damsel glances down at the shackle, places her free hand on it, and slips it off her wrist. Of course she does.

…Then she slides it back on and looks at Paranoid. “Like that?”

What.

“Yes. Like that.” Paranoid grips the blade as tightly as he can. “Why can’t you just do that?”

The Damsel looks at him for a second before breaking out in laughter. “You’re funny! You’re really funny! Don’t you know that’s not how this works?”

Apparently not. “Explain to me how this does work.”

“I’m supposed to wait for you to rescue me,” she says. “Then you’re supposed to rescue me. Then we’re supposed to leave together. And then… I don’t know! I think that’s where it’s supposed to end.” She tilts her head. “Why? How else would it work?”

Paranoid hesitates. This is probably going to get him killed, and getting himself killed will only get him killed in a second, even worse manner.

…On the other hand, he’s really out of ideas at this point.

“You’re supposed to wait for me down here,” he begins. “Then I’m supposed to come down here, and you’re supposed to threaten me into letting you out, if you even want out instead of slicing me to pieces. Then either you kill me, or I kill you and then die, or I give up and let you wreak havoc on the world.”

The Damsel blinks. “And then what?”

“And then…” Paranoid shakes his head as though that will cause some thread of logic to slide into place. “I don’t know. I think that’s where it’s supposed to end.”

“Hm,” the Damsel says. “I think I like my version better.”

Paranoid forces out a laugh. “Yeah. I wish that were how this worked.”

“That is how this works!” She holds up her chained hand. “Can you let me out now?”

She’s asking him to let her out of the chains that she just slipped over her hand a minute ago. Sure. Fine. This may as well happen. Except…

“The door’s locked upstairs,” he says. “I couldn’t get out.”

The Damsel frowns. “Really? Do you think it might open if I tried it?”

He’s about to say no, that’s not how this works, the point of the cabin is that the Princess isn’t allowed to leave and the Hero can come and go whenever. Then he changes his mind and is about to say yes, absolutely, you’re some sort of world-ending monstrosity and I’m all of three feet tall. Then some bitter part of him is about to say no, everything about this whole setup is out to get us both but also me specifically but also you specifically, and if the past has taught me anything it’s that the way out will only open when you’re dead.

What he actually says is, “Probably. At least you’d be able to reach the doorknob.”

She holds out her chained arm, and Paranoid takes a moment to mourn the loss of the last bit of sense he has before taking hold of the shackle and slipping it over her hand.

The Damsel watches him through every step of the process, not as though there’s more than one step to it. “Your hands are really small.”

Shut up, he thinks but doesn’t say.

He leads the way up the stairs, half-expecting the door at the top to slam shut on them. But it doesn’t, and why would it, when the Narrator has been silent this entire time? It was always his doing whenever a door locked on them.

They step onto the first floor of the cabin, and the Damsel strides past him, reaching for the door handle. It’s easily within her grasp.

Paranoid clutches the blade under his quilt. If the Damsel can’t open the door, it’s his only remaining option. He’ll have to slay her and leave before he can learn what the consequences are.

The latch clicks and the door swings open.

The Damsel steps to the side as though allowing him through first. A courtesy? Or a way of making sure her back isn’t turned to him? Or a way of making sure his back is turned to her?

Or maybe he’s thinking about this too much, and he just needs to get some fresh air.

He steps outside into the driest “woods” he’s ever encountered. Heat wafts through the openings in his quilt, as warm as if he were standing in front of a roaring bonfire. He’ll probably end up boiling if he stays here for too long, what with the quilt wrapped around him… though there might not be enough moisture in the air for “boiling” to be an option. How is that even possible? There were steam clouds, right? Or are they just… haze?

It shouldn’t matter, anyway. This is where it all ends. That’s how this works.

He waits for a moment. The void does not come.

When he turns around, the Damsel is looking at him, brow furrowed for the first time he’s seen. “It’s supposed to end now, right? That’s how this works, right?”

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s how this works.”

Clearly, how this works and how it is are not necessarily always the same.

“I think… we need to look around,” he begins. For some reason his eyes hurt. Why would heat make his eyes hurt? “See if there’s anything… anything else…”

The blade slips from his grasp, dry grass crunching beneath it. He does not land on top of it, saved by the Damsel catching him from behind.

“Anything… else out there,” he mumbles as his eyes close and he finally falls asleep.

#slay the princess #outside context problem #voice of the paranoid #the damsel #stp fanfic

[deer-fic-fics]

Dr. Harper deciding they have to “test your senses/sensitivity to ensure your nervous system is in good working order.” Inspired by @pip-n-chips’s post about Harper testing your lung function by choking you out.

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: unethical medicine, medical malpractice, unrealistic medicine, abuse of power, patient/care provider relationship, dub-con, hypnosis, handjobs/fingering. Mentions of somnophilia, drugs, aphrodisiacs

It is a little strange for your primary care doctor to insist on checking up on your eye, ear, and mouth health— tests usually run by Doctors who specialize in the field. But of course, Harper’s so matter-of-fact about it, ever the consummate professional, that you second-guess yourself for doubting them.

They start off fairly normally with an eye exam— testing your sensitivity to light. Dilating your pupils with medicine, leaving you unsteady and reliant on them to lead you for a time, should you need to go anywhere. They end up admiring your eye up close under the guise of an inspection, looking at your lashes, your pupil, the delicate web of capillaries running through the whites of your eyes and your cornea, orangey-red in the light they shine in.

The hearing tests are rather normal, except when you’re done, Harper startles you “by accident,” leaning in and whispering into your ear. You flinch at the warm air from their mouth, leaving Harper to hastily pull their medical mask back up and apologize, hiding their mischievous smile.

The smell tests are fairly normal as well— or so you think, eyes still dilated and unable to make much out. You may not even notice Harper’s death grip on their own thighs as they watch you unknowingly huff their cum from one of the testing vials.

Then it progresses to taste, and becomes a little more invasive. Harper dons a clean pair of medical gloves, pinching your tongue between their fingers to make you hold still. They place small flavor flakes on various points of your tongue, testing your sensitivities to sweet, salty, sour, bitter, umami. The Doctor writes down your results, slipping his fingers under his mask to taste your spit coating his fingers when you look away.

The last sense is touch. Doctor Harper starts small, running their fingertips over your skin lightly, carefully documenting every spot that that makes you shiver, every spot that makes you giggle, every spot that makes you flinch and try to squirm away. It progresses to deeper pressure, massaging and kneading your muscles to see how your body responds. “It’s necessary,” they’ll assure you. “We need to make sure your nervous system is in good working order, after all.” The sensitivity testing becomes more invasive— Harper slips their gloved fingers into your mouth again, gently stroking your tongue and the roof of your mouth. If you’ve been particularly difficult with the testing, they might be mean and try to trigger your gag reflex, just to watch you tear up and start to drool.

They slide their hand from your lips. They replace their gloves, and begin lubing their fingers, acting confused if you look suspicious and uncomfortable. “Of course, we’ll have to check your responsiveness as thoroughly as possible. I would be remiss as your primary care Doctor not to.” Your body relaxes itself at their words, your mind’s resistance eroded away by the sudden, hypnotic lull of their voice. They keep you as conscious and present as possible, so as to not tarnish the results of the test… but a little was necessary.

Harper clicks their tongue when you cum over their fingers, assuring you it’s a perfectly normal phenomena for this kind of procedure, muttering something about your sensitivity being in an ideal range or not— by what medical standards, you aren’t sure— but Harper quickly performs a few sensitivity tests after your orgasm, and then begins to work you towards a second. It seems like it’s never going to end— they take you over the edge over and over again, performing tests in between to see how your sensitivity changes.

~~~~~

(A/N)

I was also going to include Harper testing Reader’s spice tolerance and pain tolerance, but it didn’t really fit well with the rest of the “timeline” of the story. Also, Harper is most definitely a psychological sadist, but I’m not sure to what extent they’re a physical sadist, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Imagine Harper’s “medical” notes once Reader passes out… body diagrams labeling all of your most sensitive spots. Harper probably cums all over themself and/or those papers while trying to finish filling them out. They probably also fuck you while you’re passed out. You’re going to be sore when you wake up anyway, so what difference will you notice?

Imagine our dear Doctor testing Reader’s sensitivity in between edges rather than orgasms instead… and/or while Reader is under the influence of various drugs and aphrodisiacs🤭

Still working on F!Harper’s boobnosis, I promise 😭

#degrees of lewdity #harper the doctor #Doctor Harper #Dr. Harper #harper x pc #harper x reader #dol #my thoughts #mdni #smut #nsft #Doctor Harper x pc #Doctor Harper x reader #Dr. Harper x PC #Dr. Harper x Reader #Doctor Harper smut #Dr. Harper smut #DoL smut

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Five

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: I appreciate your support as this story progresses. Make sure to check every two weeks for an update! Honestly, if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have continued this story because it's just so messed up, but even so, thank you once again.

Chapter Warnings: Larys Strong jump scare

"Let me out of here!" You screamed, pounding on the guest chamber doors. "What is wrong with you, people? You have no reason to keep me here!"

Ma must have been worried to death by now, scowering across Kings Landing and pulling any strings she could. How had you been so stupid? So immature to follow a strange man that could put you in chains if he so wished. Ma was right. She had always been right about everything, and you were too caught up in your selfish desires to see it.

Aegon was a sick and twisted man. A vile, wretched, disgusting creature to ever be blessed by The Mother. You slammed your fists into the solid wooden doors as you felt pain radiate up your arms, willing them to burst open. You refused to sit ideally and become Aegon's plaything. You slept in a room next to the women who were, seeing what men like him do.

You were unashamed by the tears that streaked your cheeks, the snot that ran down your lip, and the back of your throat. Anyone being kept as a High-Born prisoner would feel the same way.

You couldn't wrap your mind around it-- around everything that had happened in the past days. Your absent father coming to pay you a visit, the heated argument with Ma, Aegon whisking you away for a night of fun and debauchery.

Nothing made sense. You were the daughter of a dead whore and a loafer, raised by a brothel madam on the streets of Flea Bottom. The Targaryen madness people gossiped about must be true; Aegon was proof of it.

The fight refused to die out, kicking at the doors as your sore arms shook. Your leathered foot nearly collided with a man as the doors opened, his cane stopping you. You were stunned, not expecting to have your freedom given to you so soon, but that hope did not last long as they locked behind your guest.

"Who are you," you questioned the limp man heatedly, ready to throw hands at any moment.

"Forgive me, my lady," he bowed, his body leaning onto his intricate stick. "I am Lord Larys of House Strong," he answered politely as if he were speaking to royalty.

"You say that as if it means something to me," you quipped. Lord Strong walked further into your prison chambers, tired from standing so long and resting on a plush armchair. He smiled as he sat, inviting you to the one opposite him, but your feet stood planted, arms crossed.

"I do not expect it to, my lady. Being the younger, unimportant brother of House Strong is not a trait many people consider to be remarkable." He spoke in riddles as if he knew something you didn't and was proud of it, disdain hidden within his messages.

"You are Ser Harwin 'Breakbones' brother," you said more for yourself than anything.

"Yes, my late brother," he answered, bowing his head in respect. He showed all the proper body language of someone in mourning, but you could not hear a whisper of sadness. You tilted your head, stepping closer to him but leaving enough room away from his cane if need be.

"Ah yes," you smiled mirthfully, squinting your eyes as you studied him. "Your sudden inheritance of Harrenhal must have come as quite a shock. Your poor family finally meeting the Stranger. But how fortunate for you, I suppose."

If it were any other circumstance, speaking to a Lord as this would end with a flogging, perhaps a missing tongue, to ensure you never made the same mistake again. But this was nothing of the ordinary.

He chuckled sarcastically, shifting his cane as he shook his head. Lord Larys was not a man to be trusted. He embodied everything your fellow common folk poked fun at during the drinking hour. He had a pompous attitude, like he knew more than everyone around him, with elegant dark clothing and short, well-trimmed hair. The only difference was that he did not seem one for gossip and parties. You assumed it was because of his deformity, nobles not wanting to be around such a "cripple."

Lord Larys didn't need a sword or army to conquer his enemies. He only need a few moments within the conversation background, a few slips of secrets into one's ear to cause chaos. That was what made him dangerous.

"I enjoy your sense of humor," he laughed, looking underneath his lashes at you, "it reminds me greatly of someone I know. Perhaps you will meet him soon." He laughed again, a joke you were not in on.

"Speak plainly, Lord Strong; I tire of your games."

Oh, you so greatly reminded him of that certain someone.

He hummed, slouching back into the chair and lifting his lousy leg to cross over the other. "I know your stay here in the Red Keep is not voluntary," he began, and you rolled your eyes. "I wanted to be the first to speak with you. Become a sort of confidant, my lady."

"I have no need to align myself with you. You have nothing of value," you quipped, pacing to sit in the chair across from him. The man was intelligent. He could read body language like a traditional Westerosi book, writing notes in the margin of his mind for later,

"Then, let me be the first to water our newly planted friendship," Lord Larys grinned, looking away for a moment as he thought of his next word carefully. "You wish to know why you are being kept here, yes?" You refused to answer, only scowling at his smug figure.

"They believe you are the bastard child of Prince Daemon Targaryen," said plainly. You threw your head back in a laugh as your hands went to your beating chest.

"You wish to start our friendship with a lie? Men are truly unbelievable." You shook your head as your mind returned to the King's eldest son. "Did Aegon put you up to this?" You asked suddenly, not finding the humor in this anymore.

"Of course not, my lady. Do you genuinely believe I would lie to you? I, a man at a significant disadvantage, am begging for the allyship of a Princess. As a young girl being thrown into a den of vipers, surely you would want a knife to cut off the heads?"

"Not when the very hand who gave it to me was one of them. The hilt laced with poison." Lord Larys stood, using his cane for support as he slowly made his way over to you, his lips in a tight purse.

"I do hope you consider my offer. It would be advantageous for us both to become allies, not enemies."

His words hung in the thick air, an ominous feeling sinking into your stomach as he left the room, the door latching behind him. He only left you more confused, your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you tried the door one more time.

You were the daughter of Daemon Targaryen, his firstborn, his bastard with black hair and brown eyes, the child of a dead whore, a member of House Targaryen.

You were a dragon born of fire and blood.

***

You should have been running around the marketplace this time of day, stealing until your pockets bulged with fruits as the City Watchmen struggled to keep up with you, but instead, you sat in the great armchair inside a gilded cage, staring out of the pane-glass windows.

You never imagined yourself as someone who would miss the foul stench of small folk in high summer, but here you sat, your chin resting on your hand as your nose was filled with the sick smells of amber and ash. To those who were not trapped in the palace, they would welcome the scents, but you, it only made your head hurt.

You needed to return home and find some way to escape these impenetrable stone walls, chisel teeth, and nails if necessary, but what would happen once you returned home? You were still in Kings Landing, where they could easily find you. Perhaps Essos or the North, where you could find your mother's family? They still had jurisdiction over the areas, but if you were far enough away...

The doors burst open without warning, a guard in armor you had not seen before marching into your elegant cell. He bowed his head, raising an arm across his breastplate as he announced your small gaggle of handmaids' arrival, leaving without another word.

You stared at them blankly, partially because you were still upset about being confined to this room and partly because you had no idea what to say. They saw you as royalty and not some common girl, treating you with respect someone of your raised status was not accustomed to.

"My name is Sara, your grace," she curtsied. Her voice matched her appearance. Seemingly around your age, with fair skin and pale blue eyes that starkly contrasted against her brown hair, a slight tremble in her hands. Their arms were full of extravagant dresses.

You still sat, blinking at them with no expression as Sara shifted the heavy gowns from one limb to the other. You were still determining what she wanted as the lack of conversation became awkward.

"May I sit your dresses on the bed, my lady," she asked quietly. You felt pity. What had this girl experienced to become so... small?

"Will they fit?" You decided to say, finally leaving your seat.

"I pray so," Sara said, seeming to be the pack's leader. A red-haired girl smiled slightly and looked at the thick pile they had carried through the many floors of the Red Keep.

High fashion was gaudy. You ran your fingertips over the fabrics, feeling an array of cotton, wool, and silk of every color imaginable. You sorted through the piles out of curiosity and not because you wanted to see the fruits of the Targaryen's coin. It must have been Aegon's doing, getting you so many dresses.

Indeed they would not look through the wardrobes of the royal family for just a bastard. You could feel Sara's eyes on your back, taking note of the white streak in your hair as you grimaced at a hideous red dress.

One dress, thank the Seven, was not entirely terrible. You made no move to indicate you liked the creamy bronzed gown, its enchanting tan designs glimmering in the candlelight, its sleeves cut halfway down the arm, and wrists flowing with an accent of fabric.

It was alright, you thought, moving the other heavy materials away.

"Beautiful choice, your grace," a girl who had yet to speak complimented, grabbing it and quickly taking you behind a decorated partition as the others hurried out of the room. She grabbed the laces of your dress, untieing them without a second thought. You gasped, raising onto the tips of your toes as you attempted to gather purchase.

"My Gods what in the Hell do you eat? You are stronger than half the Kings army!" You nearly fell backward as she yanked the threads out of their holes.

"My apologies, your grace. I did not mean to hurt you," she said in a rushed tone, dragging your dirty clothes to the floor. "We have a bath drawn for you, and I do not want the water to get chill."

You heard the several other maids return, their footfalls sounding shuffled as a loud 'thump' vibrated the floor. You peeked around the partition as the redhead attempted to comb through your knotted hair, the brass teeth catching on one.

Once nearly half of your dark hair was pulled from your scalp and you naked as a babe, she ushered you to a round wooden tub, vapors rising above the water. With your mouth agape, she removed your dirty smock, and two other women helped you in. You could have laid there for hours, inhaling the relaxing smell of Clarey Sage and Lavender as they scrubbed the sweat and oil from your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, another person also enjoyed your bath, observing how the woman rinsed your hair. Aegon wished it was him kneeling beside the tub, watching the water drip down your neck and into the pool, rubbing oils over your delicate breasts. He watched from the crack in a secret passageway as they helped you, wrapping a thick cotton towel around your damp body. He sipped at a goblet he brought with him, the cool Arbor Red sliding down his throat. Not even his favorite drink could quench his thirst as he watched you ready.

Your handmaid ushered you to a vanity, rich mahogany with intricate designs carved into the wood. One brushed your damp hair, as the others laid out some cosmetics. A fine white powder dusted onto your face with a puff to get rid of any shine, crushed rose petals mixed with animal fat to create a balm, and a subtle rouge on your cheeks.

You had not realized how much effort went into becoming presentable with nobility. The most you had ever done was do a washing once a week with the other ladies of the house. Your face felt heavy as if they had rubbed soot onto your skin, but what you saw in the mirror looked as if nothing had changed. Though you had a light flesh-toned powder, redder cheeks, and stained lips, you still looked like you. Your natural features enhanced, and you felt like a... royal. Like you truly were born of Targaryen descent.

"Why am I dressing like this, Sara?" You asked, eyes downcast as a blonde servant braided your hair, staring at your white streak of hair.

"You will meet Prince Daemon soon, and he will escort you to dinner." You turned to face Sara as she compared different pieces of jewelry. The blonde yanked your head back in place as she continued.

You hadn't realized how hungry you were until Sara mentioned the prospect of food, your stomach suddenly feeling its emptiness. But once you processed you were going to see your father, the man Madam had kept you from all your life, nausea replaced it. You were glad you had not eaten today.

"It is nothing to worry about, my lady," the blonde said. You looked at her through the mirror, unconvinced. "My name is Caldia. I have served the Targaryens for many years now, and if I have learned one thing, it's that if Her Highness Princess Rhaenyra tells the Prince to do something, he will listen."

You weren't sure what that meant but didn't question her, nervously biting your red lip as she pinned the braids to your head.

Aegon wanted a better view of you, but he could only if he made himself known. His imagination was crazy with thoughts of what you looked like. What dress did you choose? Was it the color green? What hairstyle did you wear? Was your jewelry the pointed star of the Seven?

It was odd for him to be wondering such things. He never much cared for religion, let alone women's fashion; he was more focused on what lay underneath. He took another sip from his cup, a few dribbles spilling down his chin.

Caldia put her hands on your shoulders and gave you an encouraging smile as Sare put a silver bracelet on your wrist. "I am frightened," you confessed as you stood, wrapping your arms around your torso.

The four women, now yours to command, exchanged nervous glances. They knew about as much as you and could offer no words of comfort. Not one to let people suffer, Sara grabbed your hand and leaned close to your ear.

"Madam has eyes everywhere. Just give her time," she whispered. You wanted to gasp but held it back, not wanting to make any other girls suspicious.

Eyes were everywhere in the Red Keep.

***

Two Kingsguard stood stiff at their post outside Prince Daemon's chambers, watching you with expectant eyes, breathing deeply. The bodice of your borrowed dress constricted your chest, frying your nerves. You pulled a piece of loose skin with your teeth, feeling the soft trickle of blood into your mouth as you gave the men a curt nod.

The doors opened with a loud clang of metal and a groan of wood, revealing what seemed to be a dark empty room lit only by a fire out of view. They did not announce your arrival. There was no need. The Rogue Prince was expecting you as his chamber doors shut.

You walked further in, your leather shoes tapping on the hard floor, as you saw a lithe man standing at the hearth. It was Prince Daemon; there was no one else it could be as you heard him sigh and lean against the fireplace. You were moments away from meeting your father, to a man you only knew by name. Neither of you spoke, you observing the stranger and him watching the flames.

"They say I am your daughter," you spoke with a small amount of courage. "That you are my father. But how can they claim a man who I have never met be called my father?" Though they were calm, there was a hint of malice behind your words.

You heard him snicker as he turned to you, a smirk on his face, still leaning on the hearth.

"Come," he said, inviting you to watch the dancing orange flames contained by metal. "Who is your mother?"

"My mother is dead." Daemon pursed his lips, shifting. "But her name was Elaina Black." The hole that she left still bleeds, even years later.

"How did she die," he asked, eyes never leaving their spot.

"In childbirth. A few weeks after I was born."

You couldn't read his emotions, his face blank but contemplative. A man this quiet did not fit the title of Rogue Prince.

"Come," Daemon said again, leaving his spot and going to a small table with a metal box. He flipped the latch, revealing a deep blue velvet lining, a necklace, and a matching pair of earrings. The onyx-colored jewels reflected like a lake, a midnight pool encased in steel.

You were speechless. This was the first time you had received a gift such as this. Your mouth hung open as word failed. Daemon motioned you to turn so he could clasp the necklace, the black crystals contrasting your soft, creamy dress.

"What is it," you questioned, gently stroking the fine accessories, still trying to remember your manners.

You could form no thoughts, no words other than what was expected of you. "It is zīrtys perzys, Dragon Glass, gathered from the mines of your home, Dragonstone. And Valyrian steel, some lasts of its kind."

'Your home'

"Thank you, Prince Daemon. This gift..." you struggled to form a sentence. "Is the greatest gift I have ever received." You spun, doing an awkward mix of a bow and curtsy. The jewelry was extravagant like all royal fashion was, yet tasteful, even if it didn't match your attire.

"No need for that. You are a Targaryen; we bow to no man except the King," he proclaimed, briskly walking to the exit.

You stood there confused. That was it? No questions or apologies for abandoning you?

"That is it, then," you exclaimed before you could catch it. "No apologies for the years of believing my father did not love me enough to visit? To raise me as any good man should?" Prince Daemon turned around, standing in a defensive but relaxed stance as you stormed over to him. "No condolences for the loss of a mother? For the loss of a family?"

"You have been brought to me now. That is all that matters."

Your face scrunched up in confusion, gesturing your hands in a stop motion and shaking your head. High-Borns were really that emotionally stunted.

"That is not all that matters, Prince Daemon. Do you have no concerns about how your child was raised? If I am even your child," you added, done with the treatment you have received from these Targaryen men. If this was how they all acted, you wanted no part.

"I am your father, and you are my bastard. This discussion is finished," he declared, finally letting some anger slip through his facade.

"Why," you yelled, going closer to him, "how do you know? How do you know?"

"Because I have always known! I have always known that there were bastards of mine running around Flea Bottom!" He charged towards you, grabbing you by your biceps with the strength of ten men, shaking you as a vein popped from his forehead. "You are the only one who has lived long enough to claim the title publicly!"

You settled, fear replacing anger at the implication.

"You... You murdered your own children?" Daemon said nothing, his face red as he stared. 

It all made sense now. Why Ma did what she did, why she hid you from everyone, why your entire life was spent smothered into her bosom, it wasn't simply her being overprotective. She was saving you from death, from the man who gave you an extravagant present, from the man who went from being aloof to screaming, from the man who stood right in front of you.

Your father could not be as vile as him. You wanted the hands of this filicidal maniac gone.

You grimaced, mustering all the saliva you could and spitting it on the Rogue Prince's cheek. Why would he hesitate with you if he already called so many of his kin?

He let go, and you scrambled out of the way, not wanting to face his wrath.

Instead of being met with the sharp blade of Dark Sister, you heard a laugh. A genuine and honest laugh.

Daemon had a pleased look on his pale face, the same look Lord Strong gave you hours earlier but smug. He knew what to say to boil your dragon blood because you were the same as all of the true Targaryens.

"You're a mad man!" You shouted, looking frightened.

"You are my child," he declared, sauntering over to clap a hand on your shoulder. "Enough with this fun. Let us eat. I have gown rather hungry." 

You had a sense of Deja Vu before the wide entrance of the dining hall, only this time, you were not alone. Next to you was your supposed father. You chewed on your lip nervously, pulling the thin scab that covered your marks from earlier. 

So many things were left unanswered you had no idea where to begin.

Your mother was a prostitute; how could he be sure? How did he not know she was pregnant? That is not an easy thing to hide. How many brothers and sisters did you potentially have, was Daemon the monster Ma believed him to be, and who was watching you now, ready to report back to her?

"This is unnerving," you decided to say, not brave enough to voice your questions yet. He snorted, his eyebrows raising for a moment before he shifted his weight and took your arm in his.

"It is unnecessary, but is that not all customs to those unaware?" You mimicked his expressions but turned your gaze down, retaking your lip between your teeth. "Stop that," he chided as a father would, and you obeyed. You couldn't help it; the feeling came as an instinct. 

Two guards opened the doors, and another from inside the dining room announced your presence to the family that sat upon the great table. As you walked arm-in-arm with Daemon, you became even more ridged than the crown's sworn protectors. 

Master List of Series

Sorry for the no smut in this chapter. Quite dull, actually, but we have to lay the ground before the real action can happen, baby. Also, this is the dress the MC is wearing, and the necklace and earrings Daemon gave her. :)

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Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @buckysmainhxe, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @minttea07, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd12004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfilit, @sheislonelyalways, @temp-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme

#aegon x you #aegon the usurper #aegon the second #hotd aegon #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #prince aegon #aegon ii fanfic #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader #aegon targaryen x y/n #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen x fem!reader #daemon targaryen #daemon x rhaenyra #hotd fanfic #house targaryen #aegon smut #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction

[udretlnea]

An Idealized Image

Prompt: You die after getting hit by a truck and inspect your suddenly ideal appearance in the new world. Inspired by this post by @mists-reading-nook

A/N: Man, starting a story with disconnected parts is fun and difficult. First time using this literary device so be patient with me.

Words: 755

You hadn’t expected getting hit by a truck to hurt so damn much. But you’d gladly do it again if it meant you’d protect a child from getting run over.

Although you were dying, you still could feel the barest sensations around you; vaguely there was muffled shouting and crying. Good, the kid was safe and the driver was getting yelled at. Not that that mattered to you anymore.

Oh well, at least it’s over now. 

The first world has been chosen. Initiating upload link.

You thought you heard someone, but that’s crazy. You were dead. The dead don’t hear voices. Maybe this was one of those post-death auditory hallucinations. Do…do the dead even have those? Actually, I guess nobody would know…except the dying. Ugh. What a morbid thought. I expected myself to have prettier final thoughts.

Link established. Uploading soul to the Samsara system now. Beginning samsara cycle #1…godspeed.

There it was again. You started thinking that maybe you weren’t dead, when suddenly you felt your soul being pulled down…down…down into the darkness. Rather than become panicked you felt a sense of peace. You allowed yourself to be carried until you felt a shift in the pressure around you.

Before you could realize what was happening, you blacked out.

////

He’s not waking up…should I do it manually?

Hang on, what are those kitsunes doing?

You feel something tap-tap-tapping against your side. Your eyes flutter open, barely registering the fact that there’s green all around you. Turning your head, you see several orange foxes nudging your body. The sleep leaves you immediately. You surge to your feet and back away from them

They didn’t make any moves toward you. The littlest one stared at you with its big eyes; after a moment it seemed to be satisfied. It turned to the others and made a sound. It wasn’t long before they ran away, leaving you by yourself. Come to think of it, where were you? 

Everywhere around, you can see plants, trees, and just general things you’d find in a forest-wait, forest!?

Oh no, where the hell did I end up? Is this some kind of spiritual afterlife? You run, not really going anywhere, just someplace to get your bearings. You find a small stream. Thinking quickly, you examine your reflection, fearful that you looked like a ghost. However, what greets you instead is your pristine face without any blemishes.

Huh? Is that…me? No, no it can’t be. I’m not that…I’m not this immaculate! This is a dream, this has to be a dream! You do anything you can to wake up; you smack, slap, and pinch yourself all in that order, but it’s no use. It seems you weren’t dreaming. 

Defeated, you decide to examine yourself. Amazingly, your skin was smooth, but you don’t recall it being like that. Furthermore, your eyes were completely different. Since when were your pupils a yellow pinprick, or your irises a brilliant shade of silver? Most concerning of all was your hair. It was white as snow. You pull at it, looking closely at the roots to check if it wasn’t dyed. You looked rather beautiful. Additionally, you finally noticed that your clothes were different. 

When you died, you were wearing a hoodie and regular pants and shoes. Now, you were wearing a simple white kimono; a closer inspection revealed that it looked like genuine silk. Confused yet satisfied with your examination, you looked at your surroundings. Everything was slightly dark as if it were nighttime.

Weird, but ultimately it doesn’t matter. What DOES matter is figuring out where the heck I am. You push yourself off the ground, shaking the dirt off of your clothes. You look around you, wondering which direction to walk towards when something catches your eye. Squinting, you could make out the silhouette of a city in the distance. It almost looked like Japan, but at the same time, it wasn’t. Well, there’s the path to civilization right there. Now all I need to do is get over there without trouble.

You notice a well-worn path. You take it, pleased that you took the first step in your journey. Hopefully, you’d find what you needed to know.

////

Elsewhere, a solitary figure was meditating alone in a different plane of existence. Here in this space, she would achieve eternity and resist erosion.

And then she felt it. A sudden wave of divine energy sent tingles throughout her incorporeal body. This was unprecedented…what could have caused it? She needed to know. She had to know.

#sagau #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #genshin imagines #it’s short but they can’t all be long. Or winners. #I’m satisfied I managed to include a somewhat cohesive story with hints of a plot #perhaps making a story with disconnected events will be easier than I thought. #genshin impact sagau #genshin fanfic #what if we started in Inazuma instead of Mondstadt btw? #I imagine Ei would be curious with you #oh we'll see where the plot goes

[neptunes-sol-angel]

♡ Random Astro Observations ♡

These are my own personal observations, if you disagree, then that's fine.

♡ Gemini moons when stressed or anxious either compulsively write or get the urge to rearrange their space.

♡ Leo risings with Saturn aspects may have a head full of hair but with fine/thin strands.

♡ Gemini and Leo risings have a youthful look to them or may get told a lot that they look younger than what they actually are.

♡ Sagittarius risings are either very in tune with who they are or morph their aesthetics and beliefs to match someone else's. With pisces placements, they could be easily persuaded by their romantic partner to mock others (example: k*m k*rd*sh**n)

♡ libra moons have a natural charm to them and I feel like their influence is not talked about enough when it comes to fashion. The way that they may adorn themselves will make others want to do it to. (example: Alexa Demie's rise in fame with Euphoria)

♡ Piscean moons get the reputation of having dreamy eyes probably because of the way that their pupils dilate, I mean they're always in love with something whether it's the way that they idealize a crush or the way that they see the world. Delusional probably, but yes dreamy asf.

♡ Taurus placements tend to have deep and velvet smooth voices, which is kind of cool, a luxurious voice to match the luxurious lifestyle.

♡ It's ironic that Scorpio placements are known for being private, but so many iconic reality TV stars have Scorpio placements.

♡ The number of the degree where your Vesta asteroid is located is probably the age where you either lost or will lose your virginity.

♡ The house where your north node is probably shows what you didn't have at first but earned later as you grew.

♡ In synastry, whatever house that their moon falls in yours will be the body part that they can't help but love or feel comforted by. (Ex: 4h moon synastry = stress ball titties/nipples am I right 🤚🏾)

♡ The house that's ruled by Capricorn or has Neptune can show how your mom may have neglected you growing up.

♡ Even if your mom's sun sign isn't in the sign where your moon is, your moon sign shows the traits that were present in raising you.

♡ The key to making the best out of your profection year is to embody its sister sign's energy.

#astrology #astro #astro observations

[kpophubb]

♡ 𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗬𝗣𝗘𝗡 𝗑 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ♥︎

єηнуρєη & тнιηցѕ тнєу ԃσ ωнєη тнєу ℓιкє уσυ ♡

❥🄶🄴🄽🅁🄴: 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏𝚢 ᰔ // 𝗼𝘁𝟳 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 // мαѕтєяℓιѕт

"𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘞𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬?𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴...𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩? 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘰-𝘭𝘰-𝘭𝘰-𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶?"

✼••┈┈┈┈••✼♡✼••┈┈┈┈••✼ ♡✼••┈┈┈┈••✼

ꕤ ℓєє нєєѕєυηց [이희승]

Learning your favourite song and singing it for you- with those angel vocals, it goes without saying that hee is gonna serenade you with your favourite songs. And the best part is that you don’t even have to ask him to do that for you; he’s gonna remember your most liked songs on his own accord and practice them to surprise you. At midnight, hanging out at your place, setting up the cozy atmosphere with his guitar strings and honey voice. “♪…for as long as I live for as long as I love, I’ll never not think about you. From the moment we met..I knew you were the one, so no matter what I do..yeah, I’ll never not think about you …♪ “

Giggling around you more often than needed- you make him so incredibly happy and it’s evident. And no matter what, he cannot hide his obvious giggles and wide smile whenever you’re in his proximity!

Stealing glances of you and smiling shyly- rosy cheeks and shy glances are 100% his thing when he’s in love with you. His heart beats abnormally fast and the corners of his mouth crinkle like a reflex action even at the thought of you. You’re so beautiful in his vision, that he can’t tear his eyes off you and has to look at you and appreciate your beauty every chance he gets.

Looking at you wide eyed - heeseung’s whole world blurs out when he’s looking at you. His bambi pupils dilate to capture more light from your presence, and he’s in shuddering awe. His eyes travel from your hair to your face features to your entire body upto your feet and everywhere he sees, he sees only god moulded perfection. You catch his attention the moment you walk inside the room and even if his words don’t reveal his fascination, his eyes can’t hide the overwhelming appreciation he secretly has for you.

Complimenting you- hee is quite bold. If he thinks you’re pretty, after much contemplating and fighting his shyness, he’s gonna let you know about it. Not exaggerated or cheesy forms of affection but simple yet genuine expressions like “you look good.” “You’re really pretty y/n.” and then he’s gonna turn his head away from embarrassment lol. (what a cutie)

Taking you to gaming arcades with him- heeseung loves gaming!! And if you’re the one who can accompany him in that, YOU ARE HIS IDEAL GIRL. Even if you aren’t, don’t worry, he’s gonna take you to game arcades and so excitedly and attentively introduce you to everything and teach you how to play. Man is even gonna try his best to win plushies for you, aiming to steal your heart along with it in the process. ;)

Sending you song playlists- it’s his love language no cap. Arranging a playlist filled with comforting vocals and his hidden feelings depicted in the lyrics- that’s the kind of playlist he would make for you. He would hope you would feel the same emotions he felt thinking of you while listening to the songs and would escalate to cloud 9 if you tell him detailed review of all the songs!

Talking to the members about you- enhypen is his family. And besides they know him so well that they’re gonna find out his love for you even before he says, so instead of attempting to hide it he will share his feelings about you with them. He’d blush so much at first but soon begin to hold deep and serious conversations about you and ask his beloved members for appropriate advices and consolation.

ꕤ ραяк วαу [박종성]

Cooking home made meals for you- Jay’s love language is cooking for you. And the most endearing part is that he will cook your favourite cuisine for you with utmost effort & dedication. He’s also gonna set the table for you with candles and roses like the romantic man he is, even dress up and formally eat dinner with you in such a cozy & heart fluttering manner. These special dinner nights happen atleast once a month whenever he finds time.

Making you walk on the other side of the road- he protects the ones he loves with everything he’s got bc he loves being a reliable figure on whom his loved ones can rely on. So everytime you go out, he’s gonna make you walk on the other side of the road and encase you within his figure completely to make you feel as secure and safe as possible.

Protective holds around your shoulder- this is the most reassuring and easing form of physical affection you can experience. You’re anxious or nervous? He pats your shoulder in easing strokes. You are out in public and feel uncomfortable? He pats your shoulder to remind you he’s there. Someone tries to flirt with you while he’s there? He’s gonna drape his hand around your shoulder protectively to drive off the weirdos away.

Taking you out for shopping- jay loves fashion and looking fashionable and when his shopping spree is accompanied by your presence, it’s like a golden opportunity for him! He will be your best stylist, being patient and making you try as many stores as you want, picking what’s best for you and ofc NOT letting you pay for anything being the fine gentleman he is. “Accept these as gifts from me y/n.” He’d say smiling and if you try to resist, you’ll see the most adorable pout and frown on his face which will make you give in to him anyway.

Paying attention to your likes/dislikes- he has all your preferences memorized like the lyrics of his favourite song. Your food preferences, your trip preferences, style, colours- he knows it all and will always act accordingly to please you.

Smiling at you in heartfelt manner- there are people smiling at you and then there’s jay’s kind of sweetheart smile, the kind of smile that burns layers beneath your skin and makes you feel like he’s appreciating your raw beauty. There’s so much tenderness and honesty in his eyes that you lose yourself everytime you look inside his galaxies.

Telling you about his feelings honestly- transparency and honesty is two of the most important things to jay, especially in a relationship. So once you two have grown close enough and he knows you’re comfortable with him, he’s gonna confess his feelings of love to you in a mature and direct way, leaving you completely flustered, and in a sweet daze.

ꕤ ѕιм วαєуυη [심재윤]

Getting awkward and clumsy around you- jake being in love is like him being the most adorable little dork on this planet earth. Bumping his knee on the table while staring at you, stubbing his pinky while pulling the chair for you, choking on his drink when you walk in and ofcourse the infamous bumping his forehead on the corridor wall while waving you goodbye with his eyes glued on you! :p <3 sim jaeyun is the definition of adorable.

Smiling shyly out of nowhere whenever you are here- he’s so smiley around you oh my god, and his lovesick happiness almost creeps out the members and makes them feel like he’s possessed by the spirit of Romeo or sth. Jake is always giggling in his squeaky voice and it’s so random, it’s like even hearing you breathe and watching you do mundane things, make him feel like the happiest and luckiest man on earth.

Blushing when you compliment him- jake gets really shy in general when anyone compliments him out of the blue, but when it’s with you? Oh boy he goes into tomato mode and becomes so awkward that he doesn’t know how to respond. He’s got the shy-est and cutest smile on his face and he’s pushing his hair back or scratching the back of his neck with rosy pink cheeks bc he’s so flustered. Will take a solid 5 minute to calm tf down and thank you and compliment you in return! >~<

Sending you song lyrics- this is jake’s way of declaring his love for you. Randomly texting you Justin bieber’s lyrics “someone to make me stay around..oh girl I wish you would” “picture perfect you don’t need no filter. Gorgeous make em drop you are a killer..shower you with all my attention.. yeah these are my only intentions. ♪” “ you the best thing and I don’t need a witness.., ima find me a ring and pray it’s perfect fitted.♪♪” He will message you and hope you get the hidden meaning behind it and realize these are his feelings for you. But even if you don’t, he’s just gonna excuse himself hurriedly saying it’s just some lyrics of his favourite song.

Being touchy with you- jake’s way of showing affection is through physical touch. And besides, when he loves you so much and wants you so much, it’s obvious he can’t hold himself back from you. So expect the warmest and safest prolonged hugs, head pats and him resting his head or chin on your shoulder and playing with your hands.

Telling you cheesy lines- if he’s not cheesy romantic, Is he even Jake?????? “You must be tired bc you’ve …been running through my mind all day.” and what not, comparing you to the sun and moon and everything beautiful he sees. And when he sees you reciprocating them as a joke he’d even take his shot by being flirty “if I said you had a nice body..would you hold it against me?;)” and then he’d proceed to cringe and laugh afterwards. The sound of his laugh? Heart melting experience right there.

Paying attention to you completely- jake sim notices everything you do, everything you say, every facial expression you make and even the way you inhale and exhale. He memorizes you and learns in depth about you like he’s studying his favourite physics book (or whatever the hell smart people read anyway). The length of your long black eyelashes, the way the corners of your plush lips crinkle when you smile, the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about something you love. Every little thing about you adds a new reason for his heart to beat again everyday. <3 :’)

Taking you to dog parks to walk layla together- you get entry to the secret vault of Jake’s heart if you get along with Layla. When you play with her and love her as much as he does, he falls in love with you 10x harder. Chilly evenings and peaceful walks with layla and you alongside nature, jake walks behind you taking in the moment and imagining how blissful it would be if you become a real loving family someday.

Confessing to his best friend aka sunghoon about having feelings for you- altho jake is pretty bad at acting and lying and the whole squad knows what he feels for you since day 1, the only one he willingly goes to and says everything is sunghoon!! he always simps over you infront of him and tells him about all the things he wants to tell you >.< jake would love for you and sunghoon to get along well, two of his most fav people, so he always gets excited everytime y’all interact!

Daydreaming about you and smiling nonstop- he’s a simp. I swear. He can’t stop thinking about cuddling you, holding you in his arms and kissing you and having you as his girl. 🥺 he giggles like a teenager in love and kicks his feet in the air and presses his face to the pillow to hide his embarrassment and mute his nonstop chuckles.

ꕤ ραяк ѕυηցнσση [박성훈]

Teasing you nonstop- teasing people he loves the most is his prime way of showing his love for them haha. ESPECIALLY about your height if you have significant height difference. Will call you nicknames like “my shortie” “my cute chibi” and proceed to make fun of you for being “tiny”. Also will close jars super tightly so you ask for his help and ofc he will do it with the dirtiest smirk on his face. “Can’t do anything without me huh y/n 😏”

Awkward laughs with you- pls he’s such a blockhead when he’s in love. So clueless and lost and doesn’t know what to say or do so he will just awkwardly laugh “ha ha ha” and come up with the lamest dad jokes ever :] I mean. Pls laugh even if they make you question your existence bc man is trying so hard to make you smile and laugh! XD <3

Being protective over you- sunghoon is a possessive person. ;) especially when you’re not his gf yet, he is very insecure and afraid to lose you. He absolutely despises it when you’re too mingly with other male friends and his jealousy is o b v i o u s. Upset penguin is just NOT having it :((

Furrowing his brows and hoping to communicate his feelings telepathically while looking at you- hoon is VERY BAD with words and doesn’t know how to convey his love for you so he will just accidentally glare at you from the corner of the room, furrowing his thick brows and trying to enter your heart through telepathy!!

Asking jake for advice- since he’s a clueless dork, the best thing he does is ask Jake what to do next (although asking another slightly better dork isn’t a good idea either) he’s gonna ask him what to say to you, how to make you interested in him and just randomly blabber about how beautiful you’re to him and how you make him feel!

Getting teased by the members for being smitten about you- he acts so robotic around you that he becomes the next best meme in the Enha dorm whenever you or your topic is brought up. Freezing in position, his pale skin taking on a bright pink colour whenever you’re mentioned.

Trying his best for you to like him back- sunghoon will try so hard to make you like him back. Like wearing your favourite colour, dressing good infront of you, wearing the most attractive perfumes from his collection and even going as far as to watching your favourite tv series and movies just to have sth to talk about with you and get closer to you.

ꕤ кιм ѕυησσ [김선우]

Taking your photos and taking photos with you- Kim sunoo is all about taking selfies and when he’s got a pretty partner like you, god bless his phone storage bc it’s gonna BLOW up! You’re such a pretty subject and every moment spent with you is so precious that he wants to capture every bit of it.

Being bold and complimenting you- sunoo is very bold and upfront so he won’t hesitate to show his affection for you and let you know if he finds you beautiful, adorable or cute. He does it so effortlessly and smiles so happily when you blush but IF it backfires on him and you praise him back, he’s gonna laugh his shyness away.

Taking you out to food dates- he loves eating and visiting aesthetic cafes,, so he’s always gonna take you out with him on weekends!! And you guys could even be the cutest foodie (couple) in town, no joke! He’s gonna talk about the food nonstop with you, giving reviews in the form of facial expressions. My gosh, he’s so awfully chatty and that’s so cute ugh.

Telling you about every details of his day- sunoo is a nonstop talking machine and he LOVES you so much that he just has to complain to you all day. The good parts, the bad parts, his precious memories while performing and everything in between! You’re like his bff and human diary.

being confident and confessing to you- he comes off as a really confident person to me so when he gets the right signals, he’s gonna be straight forward and tell you how he feels about you directly. And come on..rejecting him is MISSION IMPOSSIBLE so watch him dissolve into a puddle when you say yes! T-T <3

ꕤ уαηց วυηցωση [양정원]

Getting jealous over you- yang jungwon is a jealous person. When you don’t give him attention enough, and talk with other members instead of him, he goes into clingy kitty mode. Hovering in your line of sight and popping up again and again to “get his charger” or “grab a drink” and what not. Eventually at the end, don’t be surprised if a jelly cat grabs you by your feet and drags you out of the room so you two can be “alone” and spend time. ;) <3

Gate keeping you- he wants you all to himself bc he’s quite possessive 👉🏻👈🏻 and you’re so loveable what if the other guys fall for you? So he’s gonna meet you outside the dorm as much as he can lol until his members hatch a detective plan and find you guys on a cafe having brunch. (Please I swear they’re gonna embarrass jungwon cause WHO TF wears detective sunglasses and coats and takes this fr)

Helping you in any way he can- jungwon’s leader instincts work with you too. Since he’s so used to caring for others, he’s always caring for you and is so responsible and helping you in every way he can. From studies to life problems to even trivial things like helping you organise your closet, you’ve got jungwon to do it all!

Always protecting you- it’s his life mission to protect you. No need to elaborate. Your happiness, your safety, your smile, your well being MUST be protected at all costs.

Low-key simping over you- jungwon is your low-key fanboy. He’s so good at hiding his feelings though, but behind closed doors when he’s alone omg he’s smiling so brightly and covering his face with his palms bc it’s heating up SO BAD 👉🏻👈🏻

Going out of his way to compliment you- he doesn’t compliment people a lot or likes showing his affection out in public but for you, anything. He’s gonna make subtle compliments without being too obvious, “wow your outfit looks good.” “I like the way you did your hair.” etc etc.

Unintentionally matching clothes with you- jungwon likes romantic couple habits like matching clothes. Like colour co-ordinated clothes. He’s gonna steal a peek of your closet and new shopping bags and go and buy the same coloured outfits to surprise you later. Ask him if it’s intentional, and watch him make a 180 degree turn and deny it like a criminal being interrogated in jail for committing arson lmao.

Communicating his feelings with you through his eyes- won’t go out of his way TO tell you directly what you mean to him so if you catch him staring at you with boba eyes and a foreign fond expression, just know he’s trying to convey with his eyes how much he loves you.

Taking midnight strolls with you- jungwon loves walks!!! Relaxing midnight walks with cozy hoodies on alongside you is better than the most expensive therapy for him.

Lending you his hoodies for you to wear- yang jungwon loves hoodies but he loves them more WHEN YOU WEAR THEM and the scent of your perfume is stuck to his material when he takes them back uwu.☺️👉🏻👈🏻 the oversized material dangling from your shoulders and the hoodie covering your thighs upto your knees is the !!cutest!!thing!!ever!!

ꕤ ηιѕнιмυяα яιкι [西村 力]

Making fun of you (in a good and playful way)- riki booping your nose and stealing your phone from your hands just so you chase him in the whole house (till you’re breathless and panting) is a daily activity in the household! 🥺

Annoying you to the fullest- tangling your hair in his fingers and tugging at them, messing up your makeup, stealing your food from the fridge and tackling you = riki being in love with you. Trust me on this.

Being shy and giggly around you- now despite appearing mature, RIKI IS SHY SHY. He’s like a small baby around you, always smiling his adorable boxy smile and moving in tiny from the excitement of being around you!! >.<

Trying to spend alone time with you away from the hyungs- his hyungs bug him so much for being in love with you “oh our ni ki is growing up huh?” “WOWWW NIKI??!!! Your growth spurt hit you? ;)))” they would elbow him in the stomach all the time man so he just wants to steal you away in a private space. Where he can look at you (in his lovesick way) and play with your cheeks and maybe even..hold your hands?😳

Comparing your hand sizes as an excuse to hold your hands- your hands are so small and soft and he’s such a sucker for innocent romance and always looking for excuses to hold your hand, that he does this TOO OFTEN. <3

being your best friend and partner in crime- ni ki is the most likely to fall in love w his bestie :(( someone with whom he can be BFFS WITH and be partners in crime and do silly crazy activities with and prank others with!! Someone who’s his best friend during the day and lover during the night! <‘33

✼••┈┈┈┈••✼♡✼••┈┈┈┈••✼ ♡✼••┈┈┈┈••✼

🄰/🄽: 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽! ^_^ 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗿𝗲𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗴 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌/𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 & 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌! ♡

@boowoowho @csmicbot @yjjungwon @miyoung07 @cloudcutter @kpoproyal @ingkai @rikismiel <3

#enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen x engene #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen headcanons #enhypen fanfictions #enhypen fanfic #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung x reader #sim jake x reader #jake x reader #park sunghoon x reader #park jay x reader #Kim sunoo x reader #yang jungwon x reader #nishimura riki x reader #sunghoon x reader #jay x reader #jungwon x reader #ni ki x reader #sunoo x reader

[blueraineshadows]

Life Blood Part One

Vampire Garreth Weasley x F!MC

NSFW 🔞 vampire violence, adult themes

This week's Weasley Wednesday theme in the Garreth's Groupies Discord: Halloween 🎃

This is an AU world where Garreth is a vampire. Old, dangerous, and very beautiful. He stalks a lovely librarian who has a secret of her own.

The shadows had become his friend over the years, his shield and his comfort, a cloak to cover his footsteps and hide his truth. Cities had many shadows, dark corners, and sinister alleyways that provided fruitful hunting grounds, opportunities to stalk and watch for the next feed.

For there was always the ravenous hunger, the dark and desperate need to satiate the craving for blood.

His awakening to his dark form had been a terrible and agonising horror that had ripped apart everything he had known about himself. Once a soft and innocent boy, his nature had transformed into something harder, darker, and instinctive. To truly be at one with this transformation, it had taken many years and the guidance of the one who had turned him.

Time had stretched, days were mere nothingness, now a drop in the ocean in his immortal life. It been a long time since he had seen his sire, no longer in need of the guidance, able to glide softly through his days and take what he needed with the blink of an eye and stolen whispers.

The vampire thought he had forgotten the boy he had been.

His eyes glittered in the darkness, the shadows no barrier against his sharpened sight. The mossy green of his eyes darkened and flickered with red, the pupils widening into dark orbs of hunger as his nose delicately picked up a scent. He paused and pressed up against the old brick of a building, ears trained for the sound of approaching steps. The scent carried on the air, filtered through the wafts of trailing mists that drifted from the old river. It teased at his nose, the steady warmth of its pulse making his mouth water, and the familiar ache in his gums made him press his lips together in anticipation.

It was a male. His scent grew stronger as he made the turn into the narrow passageway, the hint of sweat and alcohol combined with that heady, bitter call of his life blood. His footsteps staggered a little, and he cleared his throat. Drunks were not ideal, and neither were the sick, but when opportunities wandered so freely into his path, the vampire was not going to waste it.

As the figure of the man came into view, the vampire licked his lips, eyes narrowing as the blood lust flared with delicious heat. He stepped out from his shadow, steps silent, his hand reaching out to connect with the drunk man's chest. The steady thump of a heart beneath his clothing seemed to clash against the vampire's palm, the life force of a delicate human body. It fascinated the vampire. He could no longer recall how that felt. He had forgotten that warmth and the desire to feel it tingled on his tongue.

The gentle glow of moonlight lit their faces, the drunk was flushed and grizzled, a working man if his ruggedness was anything to go by. The vampire, in comparison, was immaculate in a suit, skin pale and dusted with delicate freckles, his hair a shiny golden red, the waves framing his eerily handsome face. The vampire was the image of a cultured gentleman, soft and alluring, but the eyes told a different tale. His hunger made a mockery of that soft imagery, deep and insatiable, his age adding a depth of wisdom to his powerful allure.

"Wandering alone in the dark?" The vampire spoke softly, a hint of amusement underlying the colder edge to his tone. "Tut, tut, sir. Have you not heard? There is a predator on the loose."

The drunk swayed on the spot, squinting through the darkness with his mortal eyes, his hand coming up to try and push away the vampire's cold touch and failing.

"What? Get off me," he slurred. "Fool."

The vampire tilted his head, the movement slow and deliberate as his mouth turned upwards in a knowing smile. Oh, how beautiful was his smile.

"It is not I who is the fool."

In a movement that was more of a blur, the vampire grabbed the front of the drunk's coat and pressed him to the wall, ignoring the mutters of complaint as he dragged back the collar to reveal flesh, the flutter of a pulse a vivid thing, and he bit deep. Sharp teeth broke through the sweat laced skin with ease, and immediately, the warm blood began to pulse onto the vampire's tongue, his eyes rolling at the delicious sweetness that tingled through him. He sucked with a ravenous hunger, drawing deeply despite only feeding a short while ago.

It had only meant to be a taste. A little snack if you will. But all too soon, the drunk became limp in his strong grip, the ruddiness leaving his skin, his pallor becoming a deathly white.

The vampire lifted his head, blood shining on his lips, his teeth bared as he breathed deeply in satisfaction. One look at the drunk told him he was dead. His body drained, his heart left with nothing.

Once, the vampire would have been overcome with guilt, he may have even sobbed at his actions. But the years had conditioned him to bear these burdens easier. The guilt was there, but he stored it away. Needs must and all that.

However, the vampire was not completely without morals. He set the man down gently. He straightened his jacket and put a gentle hand to his cheek. Perhaps someone would miss him, grieve for him. The vampire hoped so. But these were not his problems.

As he stood, the vampire took one last look at the victim's face and stored it away. He always took a last look. Then, he returned to the shadows. There were a few more hours of night time to wait through before the dawn, and he needed to make a regular stop.

He needed to go and see her.

....*....

In the six months of lingering in the shadows of the city, it had been easy to memorise the many twists and turns, the busy streets and local hot spots. Without the need for sleep, he had the time, and he had been to so many cities in the world now that he was beginning to realise that they were similar in lots of ways.

There was the theatre district, a plentiful delight of a place, the nights always busy with a myriad of scents to tempt his hunger. Taking in a show amused him, and he would peruse the gathered audience and pick out the ones that tempted him. The arrogant man with Daddy's money burning a hole in his pocket was a favourite, or maybe the lonely woman with tragic eyes. He was always drawn to those. Once, he had wanted to soothe them, take away the sadness in their eyes, but the hunger always won out in the end, and he would feed with ravenous abandonment.

The docks were often a good spot for a stranger to draw a feed from, travellers far from home that would not be missed so quickly. It was best to avoid the more opulent parts of the city, as satisfying as it was to drain the life out of a stuffy politician, they were easily missed. The vampire only took these risks when he was feeling particularly reckless or angry with his lot. Luckily, these episodes were few and far between as time progressed.

When he had been a young creature of the night, he had frequented hospitals and jails, taking the lives of the sick and the unworthy. His sire had mocked him for his kindness and urged him to embrace the beauty of what he had become. The vampire had resented this sentiment, and while the blood of the sick was not satisfactory, the vampire took it and suffered the bitter taste in order to bear the burden of his sorrow. Again, the appetite he harboured always craved more, and his hunting grounds had expanded. Slowly, he had begun to embrace who he was.

One area of a city that drew creatures of the night was the taverns, or pubs, frequented by whores. These ladies of pleasure were also creatures of the night, used to slake the lust of others. It may not be a feed of the blood letting kind, but it eased a hunger of sorts.

The vampire recalled his first whore as he moved swiftly through the shadows across the city. She had been young and beautiful, eyes dark and tempting as she offered him her body. The tease in her gaze had turned to cold fear when realisation had struck. The horror she had felt in those last moments had weighed heavy on the vampire, even though the thrill of her sinful blood had warmed him wonderfully, his own body still flushed from the sins of their joined flesh.

He had never forgotten her eyes, and had stayed clear of feeding from whores unless the need was desperate. After all, like himself, they had not chosen their nightly lifestyle, it was their only option. The men who went to them were often foul and disgraceful. The vampire was not above waiting outside the doors and pouncing on their lust eased bodies, draining them dry and leaving them to rot. The soft heart in him rationalised it as a way of protecting those beautiful, sinful creatures, just as he wished someone had been able to protect him.

As he approached the corner of the street he wanted, the vampire paused in the shadow of the building, his gaze surveying the darkened street. He came every night now. It was like a ritual, and he needed to stick to it. The risk of being spotted and recognised made his assessment of her street imperative. He did not want to lose the option of returning.

Slowly, anticipation lingering in his limbs as he neared her home, the vampire was glad of his recent feed. He knew that once he saw her, his hunger would flare, and he must reign it in. Her scent was intoxicating. It took everything in him to keep a leash on his restraint. He wanted to devour her, taste her flesh, and feel the warmth of her life blood on his tongue.

She was alluring and captivating, she plagued his daydreams and he ached to know her. But he could not. How could he? She would run from him, and he would not blame her. One so ethereal in her beauty and innocence would baulk if a monster such as he approached her. No. He had taken to watching her from afar, content for the opportunity to lay his eyes upon her. For now. The last few nights had seen him taking risks. Dangerous risks. Just to get a little closer. It was her scent, you see. She was irresistible.

The first time he had seen her, he had been taken back to those long ago days when he had been a mere boy. A boy who had delighted in laughter and pranks, living each moment to its fullest and just being young. There had been a girl at his school who had brought warmth to his cheeks when he looked upon her, her pretty lips and merry eyes had made his heart pound and his hands ache to touch the softness of her skin. The crush had consumed him, filtered through his dreams, and filled his waking thoughts until there was only her.

Years after his turning, he had tracked her down, a woman grown now. He had stood at a distance, not wanting to frighten her. He looked the same as he had the day he was turned after all, he had not aged a day, and he could not risk her recognising him as she read a story to her child before bed. Lingering at the window of her marriage home, seeing the child she had made through her union with her husband, it had made his cold heart remember that ache.

It was soon after this that he realised he needed to let go of the boy he had been. He was gone. That life had moved on, much like the delight of his boyhood heart. The vampire had a new life now, and he needed to embrace it.

....*....

When the vampire slid over the railing of the little window balcony, he paused, the window opening was ajar, the delicate night breeze teasing at the curtain. He planted his feet with predatory softness, moving lithely towards the opening and peering through into the darkened room. Moonlight lit the window behind him, his shadow cast across the floor of the room, the gentle sounds of a sleeping human in his ears as he paused. He had never entered her room before, only watching her sleep through the glass of the window in his promise to himself to not get too close. But, tonight, the window was open, an opportunity that had been sent to tempt him. If only he could make that final step and enter the sanctity of her room, but without an invitation from her own lips, he was stranded.

The minutes passed, and he remained, sat at her window, his eyes never leaving her sleeping form. Her hair was spread across her pillow, her cheeks delicately flushed in her slumber, lips parted with a tempting softness that stirred an old ache in his chest. She was so like the girl from a time long passed, that if he squinted his eyes a bit, maybe she could even be her. But, of course, that was impossible. She was long since dead now, a life lived to old age, and her bones already turned to dust. She was a fragment of his memory now, stored along with countless others, at least until he had laid eyes upon the girl in the bed.

She worked at a nearby library. He had caught her scent when she had left under the cover of darkness and trailed her through the city with the intent of feeding on that delicious warmth. One look at her face, however, had made him pause, his hunger abating a little as he stared. It had stolen his breath, frozen his limbs, and he had been unable to follow through with the hunt. The next night, he had returned to the library, and once again, when she had taken the steps down to the city street, he had followed her. It had been a month now, and he had followed her for many nights, even risking entry to the library itself to witness her beauty under the lights. At night, he would watch her sleep, fascinated, hungry, and oh so very lonely.

The vampire had not moved whilst he sat and observed from her window. He had made no sound, and so, when she opened her eyes and stared right at him, it had been a shock. He did not flinch nor make a sound, but if his heart had been beating, it would have skipped at the sight of her gaze. With eyes locked across the moonlit room, the vampire raced through his options. She had seen him.

He could disappear, jump back from the window, and land on nimble feet to run down the street, never to return. But, the thought of never returning made a chasm yawn empty and dark in his gut. The other option would be to tempt her to the window and drain her, take her life while he held her in his arms, and then try to forget that she had ever existed. But, forever was a long time to try and forget one so beautiful, and he knew from previous experience how difficult and mournful that would be. Every girl with similar eyes would haunt him. Girls with that shade of hair would turn his head and make him yearn. He did not want to take her from this mortal realm.

She sat up, her hair cascading over her shoulder, the bed cover slipping down to reveal the flimsy bed attire she wore. A hunger of a different kind swept over the vampire, his tongue slipping out to coat his lips as he eyed the smoothness of exposed flesh in the moonlight. Her beauty was outstanding, and his eyes were ready to become drunk on the very sight of it.

"I know you watch me," she said quietly. "It is why I left the window open."

His breath whispered softly past his lips. "Why would you leave the window open for me?"

One shoulder lifted, and she tilted her head, fingers toying with the bed cover. "I'm not entirely sure, but I know that you are not what you seem."

Her eyes met his. Curiosity and an eagerness lit their depths. There was no fear, and it made him consider her intently.

"I have been doing some research ever since I saw your face. I think I know what you are," she continued.

"And yet, you are not afraid? You open your window to me willingly?"

She took a deep breath and slid from the bed, her night gown dropping to mid thigh, his eyes following the curve of her leg as she walked to a desk in the corner of the room. The moonlight shifted the material of her nightgown, drawing it in tempting lines against the curve of her hips. His hunger was a tightly leashed beast, and he tensed as she approached the window, her scent so close that he could almost taste it. In her hands, she held a file, slipping out a sheet of paper that was a copy of a newspaper article. She held it up to him.

Bodies found drained of blood, the theories bandied about and the gossip rife. It was a familiar tale across many cities and years, and it was why he had to be careful. It was why he moved on and took turns in the cities of the world in order to stay one step ahead.

He looked from the article to her, his expression one of calm as he raised an eyebrow. She hesitated and then pulled out more and more clippings, older and older, pages of notes that she had taken in her research until she slipped an old photograph from a battered sleeve. This time, her fingers trembled as she held it up, her eyes shining as she stared at him, the flicker of fear there behind the unshed tears.

"It's you. It has to be."

The vampire stared at the photograph, the image so old and faded now but undeniably him, his youthful face so sincere as he posed for his school book entry. The innocence of his youthful gaze was a memory as faded as the photograph, and yet it made him hurt in ways he had forgotten. Pain that he had buried deeply seized him, choked him, and he turned away, unable to stare at that lost boy any longer.

"Perhaps I merely look like him," he said. He tried to put a cold edge to his voice, but he failed. His sire would mock him, call him soft, tease him for not being a better vampire.

"If there is one thing I pride myself on, it is my research," she said. She looked down at the photograph, throat working as she ran a finger tip over his face. "This has to be you, Garreth."

This time, the vampire did startle, his hands gripping the edge of the window, his eyes opening wide. Rarely did he reveal his birth given name to anyone. It wasn't worth it. Either he wouldn't be around long enough to warrant revealing it, or the person was about to die, and it was pointless. A very select few knew the truth, and yet his name had been spoken through her perfect lips, and she held his photograph in her hands.

Their eyes met, something tense and wonderful wrapping around the moment. It was more intimate than he had any right to. His nightly ritual had gone from observing her to hearing his name on her lips, and he found he rather liked it.

"How...?" He swallowed and looked at the photo in her hands. So many questions. "How did you come by that photograph?"

Her gaze was soft, full of wonderous curiosity as she looked at him. "I have wondered many a time what your voice would sound like, and to hear you speak now..." She smiled, a blush staining her cheeks as her words dwindled.

"My grandmother had this photograph inside a file of notes and papers. I found it when my family was clearing out her things after she died. I kept the file a secret and realised she had been following the trail of a suspected vampire. Research continued on from her own mother. I have always believed in things that go bump in the night, and I knew I had to continue on. It is why I took the job at the library."

"Your grandmother?" Garreth frowned in thought, wondering why these women in her family would care to follow his trail. He tensed and stepped back suddenly, a thought so cold and unwelcome entering his mind. "You're hunters?"

Her lips parted, face aghast at his question. "No!" She protested. Her hand flew out, and she reached for his arm, her fingertips grazing the back of his hand as he pulled back further. A shocked gasp left her mouth, and she snatched her hand back, finger tips rubbing together.

"You're... You're so cold... I..."

There it was. There was the fear in her eyes now. Realisation was dawning of what he truly was, and she trembled. His still, undead heart appeared to plummet, hating to see the fear in her gaze now when before she had been so soft and curious. But, it was inevitable, was it not?

"This is why you should not leave your window open, my dear," he said softly. "There are monsters in this world, and you are far too lovely to be pulled into such horrors. You must forgive me for coming here, I should have known better."

He leapt onto the railing, crouching with feline ease, ready to launch himself to the ground, but he couldn't resist one last look back.

"Garreth, please, don't go," she begged. She clutched the photo in her hand, her eyes desperate. "Or, at least come back. I have things I want to show you, I have questions. I mean you no harm... Please?"

The sweet sting of regret tore at him, sad green eyes lingering on the way the moon lit her face. So beautiful. And then he was gone. He leapt from her balcony, landing with effortless ease and then running. He was nothing but a swift, fleeting shadow as his feet ghosted the pavement, running from her, running from himself.

....*....

His dwelling place was nothing fancy, nothing that one would call home. Without the need to sleep, he didn't really require a home as such. There was no need to find a suitable place to lay his head. However, he did require shelter from the daylight hours. Garreth had read many, many books over the years, tales of vampires who lay stiff in their coffins an amusing image he often pondered over. He had yet to witness such a thing, preferring to avoid the trappings surrounding death considering the ease with which he dealt it out.

No, for him, sanctuary from the sun could simply be a cosy barn and a book. Perhaps a day inside a museum, or even exploring caves and mysterious forests under the cover of trees. A thick cloak on particularly gloomy days was often sufficient and offered him the chance to observe the world in its waking hours. Or, he would simply take a room and relax.

Today, Garreth did something that he did only on rare occasions. He opened a small chest that he kept inside his travelling trunk, a selection of old world potions and oddities inside that he procured from alchemists on his travels. He had a keen interest in such things and had an old friend in Italy who had taught him the science. If he were to truly settle in a place, then alchemy was high on his list of pass times to dabble in.

The potion was golden in colour, the liquid a shimmering sparkle under the lamplight. As he drank it down, it felt like sunshine itself spreading through his body. It had been months since he had last walked under the sun, and today, he was going to take that risk. A fool's risk.

Walking the city free from the shadows put a pep in his step, he tipped his head to a few lovely ladies, his smile so charming, the sunlight lighting the dazzling green of his eyes. With such a charming aura, one could almost ignore the pallor of his frigid skin, the slight darkness under his eyes. The red glow of hunger was firmly under control whilst he was in the company of mortals, playing the role of a gentleman on a stroll with practised perfection as he strolled towards the city library.

Despite his swift exit last night, he apparently couldn't stay away from the girl who had spoken his name. The library loomed up before him, his feet taking the stairs in a skip, and then he was strolling through the doors as though he had every right to be here. The scent of old books and parchment welcomed him, along with the aroma of coffee from the little café inside. The unrelenting scents of life blood was always present, the temptation of it curling like smoke through his body, his instincts on high alert as he navigated study tables and settees, huge bookcases stretching up and up towards the arched ceilings.

Where to look for his night time angel?

He could tell himself as much as he liked that he was doing this because he was curious what other information she held in that file of hers. His empty heart could deny the flutter in his chest at the thought of speaking with her again, to seek out the chance to look into her eyes and have her look back. His lonely existence craved such little things, and having gone so long without it, now that he'd had a taste, the craving was almost as thick as his lust for blood.

He found her in the back of the library, seated at a desk with piles of books stacked around her, her head bent over a massive tome, face set in concentration as she perused the page. The soft glow of the table lamp lit her face, highlighting delicate curves and the light of her eyes.

He stood and admired, drinking in the sight of human warmth and softness, the steady throb of her pulse teasing at his ears. His hunger lingered, prowling at the edge of his consciousness, and he regretted not taking a feed before coming here. As much as he desperately craved her taste, he was loathe to harm her. She had entranced him, swept him along on a tide of foolishness, and he found he didn't require saving. He was all in. She had spoken his name, she knew who he was, and he did not fear it.

Perhaps he should. Perhaps he should move closer and lock gazes with her, summon the masterful trick of compulsion and wipe her memory of him, remove all traces, and take the file from her possession. It would be as though he never existed, and he could vanish into the night, move on to the next city, and put it down as just another memory, a mere moment in a century.

He took a step towards her, silent and sure, and she lifted her head. Their gazes locked, the moment stretching with the same warmth from the night before, and he smiled.

"Good morning," he said softly.

There would be no compulsion tricks today.

....*....

For as long as she could remember, she had been obsessed with ghostly tales and monsters that prowled the shadows. She had delved into the minds of authors who wrote of such things, absorbing their characters set in worlds that were far more fascinating than her own. She longed for the darkness and lore that surrounded these fabled creatures, wished there was truth to the myths.

Her mother had sighed and indulged her love by handing her the books she so greedily consumed over and over again. But, her mother had warned her not to read too much into such tales, encouraged her to dwell in the real world more than in fiction. But she didn't listen.

Instead, she had been drawn into the aura of her maternal grandmother, rushing to her home after school to sit and chat about these myths and legends. Her grandmother had a twinkle in her eye, a love for the unusual, and encouraged her to look deeper.

Not everything is as it seems, she would say, her eyes full of excitement. The moment that she loved the most was curling up and listening to the stories that her grandmother would weave about a young boy who had been turned into a vampire, forced to change into a monster and leave behind the girl he had loved. It was her favourite story, and she had heard it so many times, savouring every detail.

Those memories were precious, and when they had laid her grandmother to rest, she had made sure to say a blessing over her grave to keep the monsters at bay. Her grandmother believed, and therefore she believed, and that belief had carried her through to her meeting with Garreth.

When she had found the old file in her grandmother's belongings, she had hidden it from her mother, knowing that it would be burned or thrown out as nonsense. Sorting through the many pages of notes, the newspaper cuttings, and detailed research, she gasped aloud at the sight of the beautiful boy in the photograph.

Her favourite bedtime story whispered to her in the safety of her grandmother's love, was true. The vampire boy was real, Garreth was real, and now she had a face in a photograph to put to the name.

Her job at the library had come about through her passion for the written word and her thirst to know more. Research was her safe place and she delved ever deeper into the lore of the vampire, every night going to her bed with tired eyes, but always taking a look at that old photograph before going to sleep.

She had memorised Garreth's face, she saw it in her dreams, and realised that a desperate longing had begun to grow within her. If he was real, then he was in the world somewhere. A real-life vampire. She wanted to meet him.

Why her grandmother had this research, and why her great-grandmother had passed it on to her, she had no idea. Her grandmother's passing had been sudden, and she wondered if there was a story to tell behind it all. Perhaps she would never know.

So, when she had left the library one evening, tired and ready to get home, she had not been prepared for the glimpse of a familiar face. It had been brief, so quick that she had almost thought she had imagined it, but it had made her heart pound.

The features had been the same, every line and curve she had studied and memorised so engrained on her brain that she was sure it couldn't have been anyone else. And yet, once home, she had begun to doubt it. The serious voice of her mother echoing in her thoughts, telling her that she needed to get more sleep, she needed to take a break from obsessing over a boy who was probably, in reality, long dead.

Her dreams haunted her. His face would appear, but not as a sepia toned image anymore, but a very real person. A young man with piercing green eyes and freckled skin, waves of beautiful red hair that curled with such softness. It had to be Garreth.

She saw him again, stirring from a dream, blinking into the darkness and seeing a silhouette at her window. This one she did put down to being half asleep and conjuring him into life. But, she just couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

In the corner of the library, a shape at the window, a blur on the street corner. Someone. Him. The vampire.

She took to laying awake, curled up beneath the blanket, waiting and watching. Sure enough, the shadow would appear outside the window. She would feign sleep, watching through lowered lids, and he came again and again. She left the library later and later, waiting for the darkness and strained to see and listen as she walked. Not every time, but many times, she caught glimpses.

Her passion and her stubbornness in refusing to give up on this vampire boy had paid off. The fear of the monster he could be didn't phase her. After all this time, she was ready to face whatever Garreth truly was. Her whole life had been leading up to that moment. She was certain of it.

And so, she left the window open. It was an invitation, a welcome. She wanted him to step from the shadows and come face to face with her. After years of longing for that something else, and months of staring at his photo. She wanted to finally see the truth.

He came, he arrived at the window, and this time, she chose bravery and she spoke to him.

....*....

Seeing the vampire in the familiar sanctuary of the library quickened her pulse, the soft lights reflected off his red hair, his pale skin flawless and dusted with freckles. Looking up at him from her seat at the table, her very breath was stolen at his beauty. It was like a magnet pulling her slowly from the real world into dreams as she found herself drowning in depths of green.

"Garreth," she said, softly. "What are you doing here?"

His smile was like a caress. "You expect me to stay away from a young lady who keeps a photograph of me in her bedroom?"

Her cheeks bloomed with sudden warmth, and she swallowed nervously, his charm working a tingling kind of magic that swept over her skin.

"I... I meant no harm," she said. Her hand gripped the edge of the table. Apparently, she was unable to look away from him. Was this some kind of vampire magic? She wasn't sure. There was some suggestion that they had the ability to perform tricks on their prey. The research notes she had being rather vague on the matter meant she couldn't be too sure. What an opportunity she had to find out the truth!

Garreth moved around the table and leant his hand against the top, bending over to look down at the book she was reading. The delicate scent of cologne reached her nose, and a more subtle scent, an alluring tease of clean male that pulled at something rather deep within her belly. Her breath hitched and she leant back a little, intimidated by the overwhelming closeness of him, not just as a vampire capable of draining the very life out of her, but as a man who was very beautiful and alluring.

"Last night, you said you had much more to show me," he said. He turned those green eyes on her again, his face so much closer now, and she could see the delicate strands of red that flecked the iris of his eyes. "I'm curious to find out what else you have hidden away."

Her lips parted as though to speak, but the words failed to leave her mouth. She was enraptured, staring at him as though there was nothing else in the world that mattered. She felt every throb of pulse, every rasp of breath into her starved lungs, and she was leaning forward, drawn in by invisible threads that pulled her ever closer. He held her gaze, his smile borderline wicked, and then he blinked, dropping his gaze from hers and standing up straight.

It was as though someone had clapped their hands in front of her eyes to snap her out of a daze. She blinked a few times and looked around as though she had forgotten where she was, and maybe she had. Her head felt fuzzy, confused, and when she looked back at Garreth, she wondered if she had imagined that strange connection.

His head tilted as he smiled down at her again. "For all your interest, you've never met anyone like me before have you."

She cleared her throat and shook her head. "No. You're the first. How did you know?"

"Your reactions," he smiled and flipped open a book on top of a pile. "A vampire is designed to lure in their victims. Everything, from their scent to their aura, it draws a person in, lures them closer for the inevitable bite. I had thought you might be better prepared for such things. I had expected you to try and stop me."

She gulped, hands flat on the table top. Her gaze flicked to his mouth. When he smiled at her, his teeth had seemed relatively normal, and no huge fangs descended like she had read about. She couldn't help but be curious. His revelation about luring a person in for the kill sent a shiver down her spine. So, it was true.

Is that what he had been doing just now? Tempting her closer... Did he want to bite her?

"Is it true about mind control, then?" She asked, clearing her throat. "Some of my research suggests that a vampire can manipulate the mind and meddle with memories."

He tilted his head slightly, eyes twinkling. "Maybe I have slipped into your mind already," he teased. He leaned over the table top, predatory and borderline irresistible. "Perhaps you already belong to me, and I can do whatever I wish with you."

Her eyes widened. Subtle fear began to make her tremble, and yet she was aroused, skin tingling and her pulse becoming a hot throb. Did that mean he really had invaded her head? She stared at him, curiosity mingling with anxiety.

He was a monster, after all. A very beautiful monster, but one all the same, capable of killing her in the blink of an eye.

"I haven't, by the way," he said softly. His gaze lingered on her mouth before trailing down to her neck. His voice dropped to a whisper. "But it's tempting. You are tempting."

She glanced nervously around them before speaking, her voice dropping to a whisper, her mouth dry. "Are you going to bite me?"

His smile was slow, devastating. "Only if you ask me nicely."

Her lips parted, and she realised with utter shock that the words were right there on the tip of her tongue. She blushed fiercely and clamped her mouth closed lest she speak them. Did she truly want him to bite her? What would it feel like to have his mouth on her throat? Her eyes dropped to his very lovely lips, and she shivered.

A low chuckle sounded in his throat, and he straightened, taking a deep breath and gazing towards the arched window across the room.

"There are many hours of daylight left. However, I am on a time limit. I can not linger for too long," he said. His captivating eyes returned to her, and she met them gladly. "I must take my leave. I could return to you under the cover of night unless you know of somewhere we can talk out of the burning rays of the sun."

Getting to her feet, she smoothed her skirt over her thighs and nodded. "Would you prefer to remain here at the library or go somewhere more private?"

She didn't think she would ever be tired of seeing his smile. He looked so terribly beautiful when he allowed his mouth to do so. Could she trust that smile? How many others had done so and regretted their decision? As mindful she should be of his nature, she could not help the wave of intense curiosity, her drive to delve deeper for answers. It was a balancing act of weighing up the foolishness of daring to dance with a devil, or the foolishness of potentially allowing a real vampire to escape her, taking with him all the knowledge that could fill the gaps in her research.

"I think somewhere more private is in order," he said.

She nodded, a flush of excitement making her tremble a little. A private meeting with a vampire. It was time to see if her choice would pay off. "Of course. Allow me to fetch my things and make my excuses."

....*....

Her home was very different in the daylight. The street bustled with life, the sunlight dappling through the trees, and life of such ordinary and mundane moments carried on around them as they arrived at the building entrance. Garreth observed the street, his heightened senses absorbing everything from scents and sounds to faces and shadows. The predator in him made these instinctive observations, ever mindful that he was not the only hunter.

Turning his focus back on the lovely young lady beside him, his eyes twinkled as she gazed up at him shyly. The delicate pink that bloomed on her cheeks as she dipped her gaze made his hunger claw with savage urgency. Her life blood warmed that soft skin, it called to him as they entered the cooler lobby of the building and took the stairs.

He had not come here to bite her, as tempting as that beautiful neck was. He had come to ease the curiosity she stirred within him. Not just because of her file on him, but because she had stirred up memories and emotions he had thought long since gone. His life as a boy had been brought back to the forefront with one sepia toned photograph and the allure of a beautiful smile.

Following her to her door, her scent drifting under his nose, he realised how vulnerable she really was. Back at the library, he had not intended to use mind control on her, and he hadn't meant to influence her at all, but the hunger had been strong and all consuming. He had called to her through his eyes and his scent, saw the way her pupils had widened in response. If he had so wished, he could have plucked her like a new spring flower and devoured her scent, taken what was so temptingly on offer, and she would have let him.

It was a measure of his self-control and years of honing his skills that he had chosen not to do so. His choice had led him here to where she was safe, and he was not sure if this was the better option. Here, he had her alone. Once she granted him permission to cross the threshold of her door, he could come and go as he pleased. She was inviting the devil into her home, and what if he chose to play?

Her key slid into the lock, and the door swung wide. She stepped through and turned to him, pausing as she looked down at where his feet remained in the hall. She gasped as her pretty eyes lifted to meet his.

"It's true! You can't come in uninvited."

Rather than be fearful, curious delight lit her face, and he marvelled at it. Bravery or foolishness, the girl was full of it. He bowed slightly, hands clasped at his back.

"Yes, it is true. I implore you to consider your next words carefully. Invite me in at your own risk."

Her chin lifted, a stubborn light gleaming in her eyes, but her fingers clutched at her bag with a tight grip. "You won't hurt me. You would have done it already. All those nights, you followed me or waited at my window. Not once have you tried to lay a finger on me."

"Perhaps I like the chase," he said softly.

Her pupils flared, and her throat worked. Such a delicate flutter of pulse, her blood rushing sweet and swift. He could smell the delicate edge of her fear, and yet the stubbornness remained. It stirred him in ways long forgotten, his loneliness reaching out with shadowed fingers towards the fire in her soul.

"Please, come in."

It was said with confidence and yet with softness. His lips twitched, and he bowed once more, his eyes never leaving hers. "You honour me, and I thank you for your invitation."

Slowly, he took a deliberate step forward, his boot crossing the threshold of her door. He was inside. She had welcomed him into her safety, and with a swift flick of his wrist, the door swung closed with a click.

As their eyes locked, the significance of the moment was not lost on him. He had all the power, the notion of it as comfortable and familiar as a good pair of shoes, easily slipped on and reliable. He could reach out and take her, put his mark on her, feed until his skin glowed with her warmth. It made his mouth water, his gums ached with the need to elongate his teeth and pierce sweet skin.

Her beauty called to him, but so did her words. He had questions, and she could give him those answers. He wanted to hear them, but most of all, he wanted to be near her. This was the closest he had ever been and how he longed to feel the pound of his own heart, for he knew that she would make it beat fast and true. His heart had not beat for years upon years, and this girl, this intriguing beauty, made him yearn for something that he had thought out of reach.

He stepped forward, a hand smoothing down the front of his very expensive suit jacket, his smile charming and warm.

"Now then, my dear. What wonderful things can you tell me about your research? I am all ears."

To be continued....

#garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley #vampire garreth weasley #weasley wed #weasley wednesday #garreth's groupies #blueraineshadows

[nohiketoosmall]

Ranking Plush Cobras 🐍

Part 1: ranking plush anacondas 🐍

"Cobra" is a little vaguer than anaconda, because "cobras" include a specific genus and the common names of a variety of snake species. As such, I'll give them more leeway in terms of color accuracy, but I think the shape of the hood will make or break these snake plushes.

Cobra Stuffed Animal by Wild Republic

Length: 54 in

11/10. I chose cobras after I found this guy because I love him, so much. Her cute little face. Their perfect little hood. They look like they're smiling. I can't see the back, but I think this is a creative interpretation of a monocled cobra, which can be striped. The spectacled cobra also has similar front-hood ornamentation, usually seem more "freckled" than "striped". I think this could pass for a creative interpretation of both. Unlike most snake plushies, the proportion of the head is much more accurate and in my opinion, cuter. Wild Republic really redeemed themselves from last time.

Cobra Snake Plush by Top Toy

1.5m

4/10, this guy certainly has the look of maybe a king cobra, and that chunky head shape so many retailers seem to use for snakes actually fits the cobra. But if I want a plush of a deadly snake I would prefer it have the :< expression of a cobra and the big, charming eyes. Also, king cobras should have round pupils.

Cobra Pillow Snake by Unknown (via whiteblackstore)

2.1m

8/10 This is one of the longer cobra plushes, and he has an excellent shape, very huggable, soft, and does look like he'd work as a pillow although I couldn't confirm whether there is wire in her body. I'll note that even the product photo seems to have a manufacturing defect in one eye. This cobra was found on several websites, but I couldn't find the manu. The cape cobra can be orange, so even that works!

Plush Cobra by Haihuiyuan (?) (via aliexpress)

Length unknown

10/10 considering the size and simplicity I actually really like these ones. They all look a little angry but extremely cute, which is what I want in a cobra stuffie. Not angry as in vicious but angry like you just walked in on them at a bad moment and they turned around in surprise. Again, the cobras have heads the same size as their body, which I think is great. There are no blue cobras (I think) but I will accept this inaccuracy for the sake of cuteness.

Cobra snake plush by iharttoys

1+ m

2/10. My partner described these as "muppet like" and I actually added a point of that because thats a cute concept, but I hate these. I despise cartoon animals with this much white in their eyes, but other than that I think the hood just looks awful, like terrible finds, and the scales look too fish-y because they're big. I wish more plushies had open mouths, though, but I would definitely put fangs in them if I did an open mouth.

Cobra Stuffed Animal by WildRepublic (2)

12in* *standing up, longer uncoiled.

6/10 This small cobra is like the platonic ideal of cobra plushes. Its fairly accurate in color, fairly accurate in shape, and uses simple patterns effectively. Its like an 8/10 for accuracy, but it just doesn't charm me as much as some of the others I've seen.

Realistic stuffed cobra by Aurora (via stuffedsafari on pinterest)

13in* *may be standing up, couldnt find confirmation, looks to be longer uncoiled

9/10 another excellent cobra plush. This is more perfect than I ever could have imagined. The material used looks to be textured with different textures on top and bottom. My only complaint with the toy is the hood should be connected a little lower to match the shape of the head. My other complaint is that I can't actually find this anywhere for sale- I think it was sold out but still appeared on the pinterest page for the online store.

Foilkins Cobra by WildRepublic (3)

54in

7/10 I really like the vibe of this guy. Definitely a more flashy variety, not really trying to be realistic with its gimmick of having shiny scales, but it has a cute shape. Could use a bigger hood, maybe. Adorable though.

Cuddlekins cobra by Wildrepublic (4 or 2b?)

12in* *probably longer uncoiled, unclear

7/10 I have no idea if this is real. This snake is present on the wildrepublic amazon page and I could find no other pictures of it. Here is the saga of what I found about it:

One US reviewer posted a photo (2022) of what they purchased and it was clearly the cobra reviewed in WR 2, which does not have the fancier materials. The WR website has the WR 2 snake as being $23 but the amazon listing lists WR 4 as $55. In fact, a UK reviewer on Amazon from 2023 posted that the snake was not shiny and in the photo it looks the same as WR 2. I do hope people aren't buying for $55 from amazon when it is only $22 on their website- assuming everyone is getting WR 2 instead of the above picture. I did check and confirm the prices for plushes are normally the same on amazon and their website. I also went ahead and reported this to amazon, although I have no idea whether they take action on things like this.

Stuffed cobra from Sunny Toy (via stuffedark)

62in

8/10 Now THIS is what I'm looking for when I see a snake with an open mouth. This guy is discontinued so I couldn't find many details but he appears to be a puppet. I love his little fangs and delightful expression. Definitely a shape > pattern and color design, but it works.

Stuffed cobra from Fiesta Toy (via stuffedark)

49in

10/10 I think this snake has excellent vibes and could be my friend. no notes.

Wild Eyes king cobra by Animal Planet

38in (?)

1/10 I despise this snake. Its so ugly. why would you do this to me.

In conclusion

There are way more cobras than anacondas, and I would say they're generally more charming. I think the hood makes the cobra plushes instantly recognizable, but it also seems to be the only thing that will convince designers to make a snake plushes head a reasonable size compared to its body. Most of the hoods do tend to be a bit fin-ish and the nicer ones have the hood taper down the body.

Cobras dont always have their hood up- they do so as a threat display- so I've been ruminating on the techniques one could use to make a fold-out hood without ruining the plushness of the toy. I have not been able to think up a good solution.

#reptiblr #snakes #wildlife #cobras #king cobra #indian cobra #stuffed animals #plushies #plush ratings

[forestryfae]

chaos lord hcs i consider canon cus thats what hc means lol

chaos lords tend to take a few traits after their familiars.

klarions pupils work the same way cats do. slits when hes relaxed, big and round when hes excited. he may purr on occasion but its usually only directed at teekl when shes snuggled into him. he likes to push things off of tables but thats not a familiar trait thing, he just saw teekl do it once and thought it looked fun.

child is cold to the touch and if the light hits her right her skin seems opalescent. her bones are partially transparent and looks like its made from opals and white quartz despite being solid bone

chaos lords need their familiars to be concious to stay properly on the mortal plane. thus, they need to sleep when their familiar is asleep. e.g. klarion wont ever discorporealize from teekl taking a catnap but he has the option of phazing in or out of the mortal plane for a while (annoying but harmless), waking her up (worse) or taking a nap w teekl (best choice)

in fact pretty much all chaos lords (and lords of order if the shoe fits) revolve their daily schedules around their familiars sleep schedules, despite familiars sleeping far less than normal animals

child cant sleep because of flaw. this does not affect her in the slightest.

sometimes klarion (specifically) will just drop dead. you know when cats loaf and suddenly their head just drops so theyre loafing face down and asleep? yeah, teekl fell asleep and klarion didnt notice and now hes fallen face first on the floor and is snoozing away. he could fall off the empire state building and not notice until after teekl wakes up

you cant wake him up. hes dead to the world until teekl wakes/is woken up and even then he might keep snoozing for a while before he wakes up on his own

vandal has, more than once, had to deal w his snoring during a meeting

his snoring isnt actually that loud if hes lying down properly. he tends to sleep like a cat tho. literally Wherever

lords of order generally dont have to be on the mortal plane very often and actively avoid it, unlike chaos lords who delight in being able to go, so its rarer for them to need anchors or familiars. nabu was basically their get out of work card

chaos/order lord language is mostly consistent of loud humming, hollow noises, and clear tones. the way electricity sounds, ice cracking, thunder rumbling, tuning forks, and so on also appear on occasion, and its easy to compare the noise they make to the sound of a planet spinning. there is a mild telepathic aspect of it used to convey mood and feelings as well. its like body language but psychich, and no actual words, thoughts or images are spoken psychically

its common to choose what noises are used based on favourite sounds and tones, hence the need for the telepathy. telempathy?? yeah thats a word now. gender is also linked to noises.

gender isnt really a thing the way it is for humans. sex as well, but genetics are. lords of whatever reproduce by deciding "i want a kid actually" and then manifesting a soul for that child. ideally you want between 2-5 lords manifesting at once so theres a variation in the powers used to bring them to life, if you only manifested a child from one lord youd just get a badly made copy of that lord.

manifesting a child is not seen as sexual, its more like witnessing a birth, so its not uncommon for children to just pop up out of nowhere in public. generally this has few reactions from others beyond congratulations. the knowledge of how to do it is still kept from children and young lords to prevent bad copies or irresponsible duplications from inexperience. not to mention that parenthood is kind of a big deal, you dont want a lord who was born last millennia try to make a shit duplicate, fail, and essentially rip themself in half, erasing them from existence

it is seen as. vulgar. to ask someone to help create a child. you generally say out loud "i want a child and need help" and suitors will offer their help. after that its pick or choose.

biological sex isnt a thing due to the way children are created, but gender still is there to some degree. some dont have one at all, while some have very strong feelings of it. its linked massively to noises and is seen as an accessory, like wearing a favourite bracelet or a cool tshirt. for some only hollow and humming tones is the perfect gender, for others low thundering rumbling with highpitched tones is excellent, and some might prefer using all the noises or stick to just one, and some may change periodically

physical bodies tend to be malleable enough to fix if they dont like what theyre given or alter if they change their mind, but they generally view genitals and sex characteristics as aestethic functions and do as they see fit based on what they feel looks nice and is more useful for them

nabu views the host body as just a host and therefore does not ever alter the host body. hes content w whatever he gets, he just lives there after all

lords of chaos and order have different dialects. its unclear to everyone else what the difference is though.

lords may take the soul of a mortal and turn it into a chaos lord/lord of order. this is called adoption :)

due to personal reasons, klarion may or may not be adopted depending on what backstory i want to use

(born as a chaoslord sometime between the beginning of the universe and roungly 5000 years before meeting vandal and was never human or anything else VS born in Limbo Town 2; The Adaption To Make It Less Lost Tribe Of Roanoke And More Homo Magi + Fae Cross Species From A Place Called Limbo Town, became a very powerful but chaotic magic user, chaos lord said "i want that one" and approaching him, klarion accepting and upon his death hell ascend, got murdered in cult ritual, became chaos lord and adopted by his mother (he has 2 now) and some time space power shit happens so he ascends into the past where his new mom who knows time chaos adopted him)

chaos lords are always red and lords of order are always yellow but the hue and saturation varies. some are more pink, some are kinda orange, some are blood colored, some have specks of different colors or ombres or stripes, some are very light or very dark, and so on etc etc

klarion has more than once refered to lords of order as "piss rocks from space"

#klarion #klarion bleak #chaos lords #headcanons #dc comics