#v. the taste of immortality | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowgirlcherrie · 10 months

Text

❍ ACERBUS ! ━━ ellie williams.

⤹ pairing: vampire! ellie x slayer! reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DING!

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

“Hi”

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

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

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

DING!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For $100”

Ellie gasped.

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

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

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

Adiuvo To help or to aid, to assist

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

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

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

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

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

“You love me, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

Ellie lost control.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It starts with you, her perfect pawn.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew you would say that”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You may come in”

Acerbus Bitter, gloomy, and dark.

Vampire.

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

The cold ones.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We get the fuck ou—-”

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

“What are you—”

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

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

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

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

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

It’s the only way.

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

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

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

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

“Who did you kill?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How is that fair?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait where is it”

You knew what she was looking for.

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

“It’s just me…”

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

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

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

“Ellie I can’t—”

“I love you!”

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

“Hey…shhh don’t cry, I love you”

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

“H-have…fun”

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

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

Baby fangs.

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

A bloodthirsty vengeful vampire.

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

“I told you I loved you.”

674 notes · View notes

divinehedons · 1 year

Text

peaches.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: ~3.1k words

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

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

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

reblogs and comments much appreciated; requests are welcome!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Always, peaches."

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

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

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

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

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

"Christopher. He's with me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not very bright are you, kid?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do they always leave, Joel?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #tlou #i am weak for beards okay #writing

696 notes · View notes

arting-block · 1 year

Text

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

❝𝘪 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦.❞

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

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

Words: 1K

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” another whine.

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

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

The Doctor doesn't need sex.

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

Who were you to deny your beloved Doctor?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Selfishly, he only wants your pleasure and nothing else.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or do you prefer I fuck you instead?”

840 notes · View notes

laurancezvahlslefteyebrow · 5 months

Text

SHADOW KNIGHT HEADCANONS

aka things from my rewrite

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

————————————————————

Appearance:

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

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

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

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

They have fangs. Much like this v

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THE… OTHER STUFF:

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

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

^ Inspired by a convo with @xerith-42

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oooookay that’s all I got

Thanks for reading this far love ya mwah mwah

78 notes · View notes

desertfangs · 4 months

Text

Hot Pink - Day 1

🪦 Grave Decisions

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

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

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

Short Excerpt:

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

“Are you Daniel?”

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

“I am,” Daniel said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Read the Rest on AO3

#daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel #devil's minion #the devil's minion #vc fanfic #vc #vc fic #valenfangs #valenfangs 2024 #vampire chronicles #the vampire chronicles #my fic #tvc #daniel/armand #armand x daniel #armandaniel #devils minion #armandiel

32 notes · View notes

monstrousvoice · 1 year

Text

Sleep Easy

Fandom: Elden Ring

Relationship: Morgott X Fem!Tarnished

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

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

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

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

Read it on AO3!

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

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

And he has an idea.

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

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

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

His quill snapped in his grip.

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

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

And you still continued, even during your shared meal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sip another spoonful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The only thing he ever let himself want before.

He waits a half hour before he attempts anything.

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

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

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

Arousal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It makes his cock throb.

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

He feels hypnotized by the sight.

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

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

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

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's not disappointed.

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

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

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

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

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

A servant knocks on the door.

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

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

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

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

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

#Elden Ring #Morgott #Morgott The Omen King #Morgott The Grace Given #Morgott X Tarnished #Morgott X Reader #Smut

186 notes · View notes

sapient-locations-bracket · 8 months

Text

Round 2 Poll #4

Descriptions:

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

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

#sapient locations bracket #polls

47 notes · View notes

self-winding · 1 year

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all.

45 notes · View notes

blorb-el · 9 months

Note

hullo! I read your chapter of your au with the Very Horrible Lex and the Very Baby Kon and the Very Sad Clark and i love it sosososo much! The GOOD ANGST my dood.

I want you to know i’ve been daydreaming abt it. Heck, i was daydreaming WHILE reading it- i mean that’s actually normal for me when i’m invested in smthn, but fr i kept getting distracted by So Many Thoughts and Feelings tm. Took me longer to read than it should’ve but rest assured that’s a positive thing!

i read the fic you based it on, and it was great! But so far im liking yours better >v>

I wanna see the rescue and the recovery! I wanna see it get worse first! I wanna see Clark attempt to raise Kon the best he can in the worst of circumstances! The love and human connection thriving even in the midst of a hurricane of cruelty— it’s so good bestie!

uhh anyway! The point of this ask: I wanna know, how did you come up with the title? “We shall be free; we shall find peace”? oVo?

Thank you!! That's basically how it came about, daydreaming about the fic that inspired it!

So I really love the fanfic tradition of using lowercase AestheticTM song lyrics as titles. Fic is already inherently intertextual, and I think it's fun to add another layer of intertextuality onto that; I named one of my other fics with a lyric mostly because 1. the lyric fits their relationship! and 2. the juxtaposition between Wholesome Radio Pop Lyric and soft d/s xeno tentacle pwp still makes me laugh.

At first the draft was just called 'horrible lex au,' and then I thought about using two other quotes before settling on the title. That's the tl;dr of it all, the rest of this is under a cut for plot spoilers for the overall arc of the entire fic, and also so, so much rambling:

The first title I was thinking about was be sure your heart is brave from Aeschylus' Agamemnon, but that quote is the chorus speaking to Cassandra right before she's about to be killed; her bravery is a heavy burden reaction to the monstrous injustices that have brought her to that point, like Clark and Kon... but then she's brutally murdered. Plus the power dynamic situation is... let's say, very different. It's an extraordinary, immortal line but the narrative arc I've got planned strays too far from the original arc, and in the end I decided I didn't want the shadow of a way better tragedy hanging over my little fanfic.

Chorus: Woman, be sure your heart is brave; you can take much. Cassandra: None but the unhappy ever hear such praise.

The next line I was thinking about went too far in the other direction, taste a morning out there, which is from one of the best 'I Want' songs, Out There from the Disney Hunchback of Notre Dame. Quasimodo's story of being thought monstrous and being imprisoned and gaslit by a socially powerful manipulator parallels Clark and Kon better than Cassandra's, but in the end the literal line itself doesn't fit right with either Clark or Kon. Clark, at the beginning of the fic, has atrophied to the point where he can only conceive wanting for such things through wanting them for Kon, and Kon, as we'll see soonish, isn't locked up underground the way Clark is. Plus, the fic is... lighter than the Orestia for sure but a hell of a lot grimmer than Disney, lol. I do have it on my writing playlist though.

So in the end I went back to one of my absolute favorite pieces of media ever, Fidelio. We shall be free; we shall find peace is a line from the Prisoner's Chorus in that opera. The solo prisoner that sings the line invites the rest of the prisoners to begin hoping, and from there, despite the sobering reminders of the dangers they face, that they're being watched, the music swells into a yearning for freedom so powerful it's difficult to understand how it passed the censors in 1805.

First solo: Hope whispers softly to me: We shall be free, we shall find peace. Chorus: Oh Heavens! Salvation! What happiness! Oh freedom, freedom, will you return? Second solo: Speak softly! Be on your guard! [The jailer's] eyes and ears are on us.

And then - the head jailer returns, and the prisoners are brought back to reality, forced back into their dark cells at the end of the act. The temporary respite is over.

Farewell, warm sunshine - how quickly you fly from us. Night is fallen upon us, from which no day shall break.

The simple act of hoping is like a breath of fresh air, temporarily alleviating their suffering, but it doesn't materially change their circumstances; it takes a number of outside forces to do that, which will be paralleled in the fic. Love and hope is all they have, and it's not enough, but it does make the torment bearable until Bruce/Leonora uncovers the extent of The Horrors and Diana/Don Fernando can deus ex machina everyone into the sunlight.

All in all, the line is a very succinct summary of the plot. Clark and Kon will be free, and they will find peace, but they have to find out what both of those mean, reclaiming their agency in the process.

oooor at least that's the plan. chapter 2 is about 90% edited and can probably be ready this weekend, I hit a little plot snag in chapter 3-5 so chunks of that are undergoing rewrites, but the good news there is that the rewrites are SO much better than the original draft and there will be some bats showing up earlier than there otherwise would have been. I did uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh kind of lose my job a few days after posting the first part, so updates will be slower than I'd like, especially since I'll have to move to a different state if I get the positions I'm currently applying to 😓

#thanks for the ask :^)#bahfev #fic: we shall be free #my writing

20 notes · View notes

writing-fanics · 2 years

Text

ℌ𝔬𝔭𝔢: 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔥𝔢𝔲𝔰 𝔵 𝔉𝔢𝔪!ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢r

Chapter Four: Love

credit goes to: @nebulosa-reina @boobalaloosa-simblr simblr for coming up with this

previous chapter

«warning: slight angst : fluff : smut : p in v : oral (f receiving): Minors DNI 18+»

a/n: not good at writing smut

“This isn’t how I wanted you to see my Realm,” He says, and she shook her head and smiled. Her fingers intertwined with his, “There’s so many things I’ve wanted to tell you.” He says, and she looks at him.

“And I you,” She replies, and looks at the dreaming. Dream pressed a kiss to her forehead and she smiled. He showed her his throne room, and promised he’s going to return his realm and palace to its former glory.

But as soon as he arrived he had to leave, he must fetch his Ruby from this John Dee. (Y/n) wasn’t happy, “Let me come with you,” She pleaded, and he took her hand into his own.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot.” He says, and she looks down unpleased.

“We’ve just reunited and you have to go?” She said saddened, and he placed a kiss on her forehead.

“My love, I promised you that I’ll return. If anything happens, Matthew will be the first to tell you.” He says, and she looks down tears brimming her eyes.

He wipes away her tears, “I must go.” He says, he knew he couldn’t promise that he’d return. He hated leaving her just as he just reunited with her but it must be done.

He had to fetch his Ruby. When he returned though. A day later, (Y/n) wrapped her arms around him, when she saw him. He pressed a kiss on her forehead as he held her close to his chest. “I’ve returned like I promise,” He says, placing a finger underneath her chin.

“I knew you would.” She said, as they shared a passionate kiss. Her hands wrapped around his neck as his hands roamed her body. He pulled her closer deepening the kiss a slight moan escaping her mouth.

Pulling back she blushed slightly, her cheeks a tint of red. He smiled planting a kiss on her cheeks, as he scooped her up in his arms. She gasped in shock her head laying against his chest. Suddenly they were in his bedroom.

He sat her on the bed leaning down to kiss her. His arms on both sides of her waist as she slowly leaned back onto the bed while kissing him. He can’t get enough of the taste of her lips. “I’ve always dreamed of this moment.” She confessed slightly pulling back from the kiss.

He placed a hand on her cheek and she leaned into his touch, he finally had her back in his immortal life. His love, his hope. “I never once stopped thinking about you,” He said, and she smiled looking up at him.

“When I found out you died. I was so heartbroken.” He said, gently rubbing her cheek.

“I’ve had manned lovers in my past. But none of them compare to the love I have for you.” He says, and she gasps and grabs him by his trench coat.

Pulling him into a kiss his arms wrapped around her waist. A soft moan escaped her lips as they made out on the bed, his hands roaming all over her body. They parted for air and looked at each other.

He pressed her into the bed; he couldn’t stop staring at her beautiful eyes. He leaned down passionately kissing her lips. Her hands cupped his cheek as she kissed him back.

As they moved further on the bed. His head moved towards her neck kissing it causing a soft moan; to escape her lips. Her hands clenched the bedsheets as he attacked her neck, he pulled back looking down at her, “Are you sure?” He asked, and she smiled softly placing a hand on his cheek.

“I’d love nothing more.” She said, the King of Dreams could only smile. Leaning down planting another kiss on her lips.

This felt like a dream a dream for when she never watched to awake from. For if she did she felt she’d end up back in Hell. They removed each other’s closing he stared at her bare body in awe.

He ended up at her folds tongue swirling inside her as she gasped in pleasure. Her nails dim her into the bedsheets as the Lord of Dreams ravaged her folds.

“M-Morpheus, fuck me please.” She moaned, her toes curling. He chuckled softly as he continued to ravage her folds. Eventually she gave way her orgasm touch over her and Dream, licked all the come up.

(Y/n) whined, as the tip of his cock pressed against her entrance. She gasped when he entered her, this was a new feeling for her she’s never been intimate with anyone before.

He moved in and out slowly, easing her into it. She moaned her hand on his back. He smiled planting a kiss on her lips as he thrusted inside her; the moans escaping her mouth.

Being muffled by his lips. Pressing her deeper into the bed he moved faster, her moans becoming louder. Her moans slowly turning into pants, her toes curling as she wrapped them around his waist. Allowing him to move deeper inside her.

Her nails digging into his back as his thrusts became faster. His named escaped her mouth in moans. The sounds of skin slapping against each other echoes throughout the room.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, planting a his on her lips between thrusts. She panted feeling his lips on hers, their fingers intertwined.

A loud moan escaped her lips when he found her spot. He continued to hit that spot her pants became louder more frantic. She could feel her oncoming orgasm, “I-I’m close.” She said, he looked down at her planting a kiss on her lips.

He couldn’t get enough of her. His thrusts quickened and her orgasm closing in, as she panted between thrusts. Her hand tugged at his hair as she bucked her hips.

Her walls clenching around his cock releasing her orgasm. She panted, looking up at Morpheus who smile.

With a couple of slowly thrusts he released his seed inside her, planting a kiss on her lips. Then pulling out and laying beside her on the bed.

She turned towards him placing her head on his chest. “I’ve never done that with anyone,” she sighed, as she drew circles on his chest with her finger.

“And you were absolutely amazing my love,” he said, and she smiled leaning up planting a passionate kiss on his lips. Pulling back and placing her head back on his chest, “I don’t know why but this till feels like a dream.” She says, as he took her hand into his own.

“A dream that when I wake up I’ll be back in Hell.” She said sadly, as Morpheus rubbed her knuckles with his thumb.

“You my love aren’t dreaming, you’re here with me.” He says, kissing her knuckles. She blushed and chuckled. Her eyes became heavy a small yawn escaping her lips, “Sweet dreams, my love.” He whispered, kissing the top of her forehead.

As she fell asleep in his arms. Dream smiled, as he pressed a kiss on the side of her head. She shifted in her sleep as a smile formed on her lips. Pulling the covers back over her as he got out of bed.

Putting his clothes back on he turned back towards her sleeping form, and smiled before leaving the room. He had more business to attend too.

a/n: well that concludes Hope but stay tuned I’ll be publishing more episodes cause y/n’s journey isn’t over yet

#fanfic #x reader #angst #headcanons #fluff #romance #the sandman smut #morpheus x fem!reader #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x reader

185 notes · View notes