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[israfelhasfallen]

How Large The Teeth (Part I)

The fire is lambent, the heat sweltering in its intensity even as life is being drained from her. Lips, soft and lurid red, attach themselves to her neck, greedily taking what is hers by right. She would fight him for it, spell him or wrestle him until there was no fight left in her, but something tells her not to, something she cannot disobey. 

There, there, my precious one. It will all be over soon. She hopes for this more than she’s hoped for anything, not sure how much more she can take. The heat of her body is suffocating, excruciating, and if she can’t stop it, she simply wants it to end. Wants to become one with the world and the bodies at her feet.

They look terrified, so afraid. Isn’t death supposed to be peaceful?

Only for those who are fortunate enough to find it, my dear.

The meaning of his words dawn on her in an instant, for unnaturally sharp incisors begin to protrude from her gums. The man stops his sucking to smile, letting out a triumphant laugh that reverberates against her skin. “I would normally snap their necks before it gets this far,” he says while his lips move to graze the shell of her ear, “but I wanted to keep you.” The last part is a whisper, no louder than the wind billowing through the night sky like a secret only she could hear. 

She shudders to think of what’s to come next in her eternity with this beast.

[israfelhasfallen]

From Eden

Summary: The reader falls, and Michael’s there to catch her.

Warnings: Light smut, unrequited love.

Word Count: 431

Author’s Note: The story and title come from Hozier’s “From Eden.” I apologize that the ending is somewhat rushed. Also, remember that requests are open!

When she fell, it was sweet.

She reveled in the taste— apples ripening in the morning sun, mixed with the salt of sweat that melted on her tongue. Her teeth grazed flesh, palpable, authentic, and warm, unlike the clay from which her love was molded.

Her love, she should have been with him then, wasting the day away as young couples do. But what would she do without him, the serpent who kept slithering his way between her legs, who fucked her, like no man ever could? There was a divine power behind him, and she knew it, could feel it when he thrust himself into her for the first time and every time thereafter.

Even now, as she lies beneath him.

His movements are slow and precise, hitting every nerve within her. She can’t help the pathetic mewl that escapes her lips, nor can she hide her redlining cheeks from his intense gaze. She watches as the once determined look that took hold of his angelic features softens into one of complete adoration and is almost taken aback by the change. Though she’s seen evidence of this before, proof of the man behind the beast. There were times when he would whisper sweet nothings into her ear and times where he would kiss her as if she might break, even as their passions ran high. It was almost as though he was worshipping her very skin.

Worshipping me?

Yes.

The answer comes from a voice that is not her own, yet it’s one that she knows, one that she loves to hear. She stares up at him through long lashes, a broad smile forming on her lips, lasting as he bends down to kiss her. His lips are soft, like sculpted clouds, softer than his hands that find their way beneath her dress. She allows him to do this, to take his thumb and brush it against her clit, to swallow the sounds from her mouth as if they were prayers only meant for him.

They were; whatever god she prayed to once was long-dead in her eyes.

And although it wasn’t love she felt for him (her heart would always belong to another), it was more than carnal attraction. Be it adoration or fondness, she would always care for him in some capacity.

He averts his gaze to stare at the tree before him, the place where it all began. The unkempt curls of his hair obscure his expression from view, but the tear that falls against her skin tells her all she needs to know.

“Michael…”

“(Y/N)...”

[israfelhasfallen]

I’m Taking Outpost Michael Requests...

Hi everyone! I’m currently desperate to write for Outpost!Michael, but I have like zero ideas. Thus, any requests would be extremely appreciated!

[israfelhasfallen]

If Only...

Author’s Note: So, I’ve been trying to write a Michael fic for months now, but to no avail; all of my attempts have ended up as half-finished projects, which I, one day, plan to finish. Nonetheless, I figured I would start posting with something small. I hope you enjoy this little blurb as much as I enjoyed writing it! Remember too that requests (of all sizes) are open!

There’s a moment, as you lay dying, where you see compassion in his eyes.

It’s difficult for you to fathom why; there’s a wound blooming from deep within your chest, one that he caused—the mark of the enemy. Yet, as he kneels in front of you, he takes your pliant hands in his and kisses them with quivering lips.

 “You were the only one of them to show me any sympathy; the only one who didn’t care who I am.” His voice is quiet and trembling, and it takes you a moment to register what he’s saying, too distracted by its uneven cadence. Though, once you do, a dim memory flashes behind your eyes, one where you saw his face, his true face, and didn’t shrink or cower away. He didn’t disclose his destiny to you then; your reaction might have differed if he had. Though, you suppose it doesn’t matter, not now, as you’re drifting far away.

 “If only things were different,” he whispers into your ear before leaving a tear-stained kiss upon your cheek. And, as abruptly as he had arrived, he leaves, taking his warmth and yours along with him.

With a parting thought, you think;

 If only…

[israfelhasfallen]

Requests Are Open!

Hi! I’m a new blog, and I just wanted to let you all know that requests are open!

Here are the fandoms I’ll mainly write for:

-American Horror Story

-Supernatural

-Harry Potter

-Labyrinth (1986)

-Heathers (1989)

Please let me know if you have any requests! (You can ask or DM).

[israfelhasfallen]

A Helpful Reminder...

Okay, so, for context, I’ve been having a depressive episode for like, eight months straight, and I’ve had a very poor self-image my entire life. I’ve been going to therapy, and all that jazz, and it helps but not completely because I’m one of those people who needs to figure stuff out on their own.

Well, I’m up at 4:00 this morning for some dang reason, laying in bed and just thinking about my depression, feeding the monster, as it were, and a particular thought pops in my head. No one cares if you’re depressed or not, so just stop already. 

Then it hits me... an epiphany...

The only reason I care if anyone else cares about me is because I care about myself. Despite all the crap I think about myself and put myself through, there’s a part of me, however buried it may be, that wants me to be okay. 

Let me put it this way, even if you struggle to find a reason to keep going, that struggle proves there’s a part of you that still sees you’re worth fighting for. That need for validation, proved that there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe I should give up. 

So, if you’re looking for that one person to help, to be there for you, try looking in a mirror!