#Nocturnal Encounters

[eldritch-dragons]

Hello I love my protogens :D They turn 2 years old today!!

[autistickaitovocaloid]

Sydney Photo Dump part 1

[lemuseum]

[redeyeflyguy]

Wonderful Things That May or May Not Be Wonderful!!! While I love the Persona series of games (I am so hyped for P3: Reload), I would seem I have also found myself falling in love with the the Shin Megami Tensei series of games (a.k.a. the games the Persona series originally spun-off from). A series of RPGs that has a lot of lofty philosophical concepts, incredibly dark situations and downright punishing difficulty. The difference is that this love is more strained than it is with the former for various reasons. Still, the two divergent franchises have many similarities and one is Shoji Meguro pumping out bangers. As such, here's two from my current favorite SMT title, Shin Megami Tensei 3: Nocturne. First is the Normal Battle theme. A guitar shredding, drum smacking, synthesizer playing banger of a tune that matches the intense, end times nature of the setting while also giving a twinge of hope with more uplifting segments at the end.  And of course, you have the distorted voices crying out to be released from their torment that gives the piece a distinct sound (also, the case with the rest of the battle themes in this game). On top of that, I discovered that the guitar riff that functions as the last part of this theme before it loops has several different versions that play at random between encounters. This is in order to keep the piece from getting too repetitive over many hours of game time. A great song for fighting random encounters and an all too fitting song when you ARE the random encounter (man, those super bosses looks insane). The other I wanted to mention is the Town Battle theme. Yes, SMT III is a game where even the towns where you buy items and rest up have random encounters. Good thing the battle theme is a supreme combination of chill and metal with those distorted voices back for flavor. It might be one of my favorite RPG fight themes out there now. So in conclusion, if a game is named after a musical term, dollars to donuts it will have some wonderful music.

[void-writing]

How does magic affect ghosts in your universe that are less based on or born from feelings and more incarnations of concepts? Like Vortex?

Hmm....I'll be honest, I haven't thought about this very much and idk if it'll come up directly in CiM, but i can maybe spitball a bit here.

As I see it, entities like Vortex, Nocturne, or Clockwork are kind of other and eldritch. Their "anchor" for existing goes WAY deeper than someone like Ember or Desiree because for entities like Vortex, Nocturne, and Clockwork, they work more as personified extensions of things that simply are. So like...they can't be destroyed like other ghosts and ghost-adjacent entities can be.

So, there's a bit of a hierarchy going on in my verse that goes all little something like:

Entities embodying large, immutable concepts (dreams, time, space, weather, etc)

Entities that embody ideas and stories (Pandora would fit into this category, as would the manifestations of Batman, Robin, and the assorted Batfam, and even Gothi)

Entities that personify an individual person (here you have your plain vanilla ghosts)

Essentially, as I'm interpreting it for CiM, an entity's power is dependent on the scale of what it is that they represent. It's a lot like the concept of relativity; the denser a planetary body is, the more it effects the fabric of space/time around it. Meaning, the bigger and more permanent the concept at an entity's core, the stronger they are. (And note that I'm referring to the denizens of the Infinite Realms as "entities" because characters like Clockwork, Nocturne, and even the Far Frozen don't exactly register as "ghosts" to me though they would technically fall under that umbrella given that they live in the Ghost Zone and are likely comprised of ectoplasm)

That goes a long way to say, that I think entities like Clockwork and Nocturne (the Tier 1s) would be fairly...resistant to magic in ways that Tiers 2 and 3 aren't. Stories and ideas change and fade, what constitutes a singular person even more so. But concepts like the entirety of time and sleep? Those will exist with or without humans. Tier 1s aren't as dependent on human thought to sustain themselves (Nocturne being an exception due to what exactly he embodies) than Tiers 2 and 3 (tier 2 especially).

So magic meant to bend them to another's will or compelling them to chance planes of reality is easier for them to resist. They're more able to "plant their feet" and flat out refuse than others.

Using magic on a Tier 1 is like trying to push a massive boulder on your own. You can push and push all you like, but you're probably not going to budge it. Of course, the same can't be said if a lot of people come help you push or they bring special tools, but even that won't guarantee the boulder will move the way you want it to.

[kaustubh-wankhede]

Embark on an exhilarating nocturnal journey at the enchanting Nocturnal Wildlife Park in Lion City. Immerse yourself in the mysterious world that comes alive after dark, where fascinating creatures roam under the moonlit sky. From captivating night safaris to interactive encounters with wildlife, discover an array of thrilling activities that redefine your concept of adventure. Engage your senses in a unique blend of education and excitement as you navigate through this extraordinary realm. Join us for an unforgettable experience that unveils the secrets of the night in the heart of Lion City.

[slytherinslut0]

Mattheo Riddle. | We Are Done

Info: Mattheo calls things off during a nasty fight where you were only expressing your concern for his safety, putting an end to your months-long complicated fling. When he inevitably gets hurt and finds himself in the hospital wing as a result of his recklessness, you pay him a little visit, eager to get your revenge.

Word count: 5k

Tags: 18+, SMUT, Toxic Behaviours, Sadism, Masochism, Intense Bloodplay, Restraint, Dom!Reader, Sub!Mattheo, Begging, PIV, Sexual Punishment, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation.

A/N: went all the way to the depths of hell for this one☠️

The journey from the bustling opulence of the Great Hall to the clinical confines of the hospital wing unfolded like a protracted soul-search, nearly forty minutes of introspection that could have singlehandedly redefined the word regret.

A seething turmoil churned within, its intensity drawn solely from the arid kindling of memories involving your ex fling, Mattheo Riddle. Despite the passing week of newfound solitude, the inner maelstrom showed no fucking signs of abating.

The recollection of your fleeting intimate moments swarmed you, a ceaseless loop that played out in the theater of your mind--like an unresolved holodrama with seemingly no fucking end.

His imprint stained every fragment of your life; in the solitude of the shower, mental echoes followed the course of water, little rivers reminding you of the ones tracing intricate paths down his sculpted physique. Within the shared space of the common room, the mental tableau featured his fingers engaging in an intimate ballet, leaving the taste of his lips lingering in your mouth as they ever-so-dominantly stifled your lusty sounds.

And somehow, that wasn't even the worst of it. Oh, not even close. It was during the nocturnal realm that the memories unfolded their cruelest chapters.

In the shroud of night, it transcended beyond the mere visual replay of his figure dominating yours, or the sensory exploration of his hands traversing the curves of your body. It wasn't just the recollection of his teeth sinking into your neck that lingered. No, the intricacies of your mind wove a far, far more nuanced tapestry.

Nighttime summoned forth the vivid recollection of the encompassing warmth emanating from his broad chest, the haven discovered within the embrace of his strong arms, and the fragrant allure of his messy hair, intertwining with the visceral memories of each intimate encounter. His burning gaze that had seared into your consciousness was more than a mere look; it was an indelible mark, haunting the very core of your thoughts with the echoes of shared passion.

These were the nocturnal specters that besieged you behind closed lids, engaging in an unwelcome dance as you wrestled with the elusive embrace of sleep. These very memories, like a relentless blacksmith, stoked the inferno within, leaving behind the most acrid, bitter residue on your tongue--a taste of anguish and betrayal.

The haunting question echoed through the corridors of your thoughts: why had he subjected you to this intimate claiming, an emotional prison woven with shared intensity, only to abruptly extinguish it with the cold finality of three, sad little words.

"We are done."

And thus, even after the amount of passing time, all it took was a single sideways glance exchanged between Pansy and Draco during their spirited debate over impending assignments to inspire the catalyst for your abrupt departure. With a forceful clatter, you slammed down your fork and pushed up from the table, commencing a determined march into the unknown.

Their speculative gazes undoubtedly trailed your abrupt exit, but you paid no heed. The entire school was privy to the fact that you and Mattheo were done, seemingly officially this time--terminated by a colossal spat prior to one of his ludicrous nighttime escapades in the forbidden forest. Mattheo's hospitalization, a testament to the recklessness that marked him and his band of fools, left him nursing scratches, cuts, bruises, and a sizable gash on his lower abdomen.

Pansy's calls faded into the periphery as you strode away, your indifference resonating louder than any response could convey. The world around you blurred into inconsequential background noise, drowned out by the burgeoning tangle of spite that commandeered your thoughts. Initially relegated to the forefront, this resentment had now metastasized, occupying every crevice of your headspace.

The recollection of his outburst haunted you, a violent reaction triggered by your attempt to dissuade him from venturing into the forbidden forest. Advising caution, you found yourself confronted with accusations of control and a stifling of his fucking freedom. Hurtful words cascaded from his lips during that argument, culminating before he recklessly endangered himself in the perilous forest. All the moments of vulnerability you shared with him, surrendering yourself without reservation, only to be met with his callousness when you were simply trying to safeguard him.

And as the embers of revenge blazed within, so did the deafening roar for closure. The need to settle the score and the yearning for resolution thrived in the wake of an emotional maelstrom.

‘We are done’ felt insufficient—it couldn't conclude there. You wouldn't fucking allow it.

Approaching the hospital wing doors, a surprising fortitude replaced any expectation of your confidence wilting under the imposing pressure. Strangely, a heightened anger welled within you, as though Mattheo Riddle were the sun, each step forward intensifying the scorching heat enveloping you. With a decisive gesture, you flung the door open, your breath held in suspense as your eyes canvassed the beds. Yet, he remained conspicuously absent, amplifying the frenetic flutter in your heart into an unrestrained whirlwind.

"Miss? May I help you with something?"

You pivoted sharply, eyes ablaze, as if embers sparked from your gaze. "Mr. Riddle. Mattheo. Where is he?"

The nurse swallowed, brows furrowed in confusion, but she cautiously gestured toward the hall, taking a step forward. "We moved him into a private room yesterday. His father requested it. Third door to the left."

Your eyes rolled involuntarily as you turned away,  a silent commentary on the absurdity before you. Suppressing the impulse to scoff required a fucking Herculean effort--of course, his father would demand a private room for him. The bloody entitlement was as predictable as Mattheo's suffocating arrogance.

As your determined march neared its end, you found yourself standing before the designated door, caught in a tumult of fear and fury. Fingers trembled, folding in waves in a futile attempt to expel the excess energy coursing through your veins. This ritual had proved futile throughout the previous week, and it yielded no different results now. A frustrated exhale escaped through your nose as you charged through the doorway, propelled by a relentless surge of emotion.

Mattheo Riddle's vulnerability exceeded all expectations as he lay in his opulent private chamber. Shirtless, his body displayed a cruel artwork of black and blue hues, stretching beyond the healing gash on his abdomen. A chaotic tapestry of scratches adorned his shoulders, arms, neck, and the once flawless canvas of his face, now disrupted by a thin, blistering line over the bridge of his nose. A swallow lodged in your throat as you beheld him, a striking portrait of agony that rendered him almost unrecognizable.

"Why the hell are you here?" He stared at you, expression vacant. "Can't you comprehend simple instructions?"

With a cool, unwavering gaze, you shot back, "And miss the chance to witness your glorious downfall? Not a fucking chance, Riddle."

Mattheo clenched his jaw, exhaling sharply as he adjusted against the sheets. "You're insufferable."

You sneered, advancing with measured steps. "Coming from you, that's a compliment."

Advancing, you scrutinized his form, taking in the mosaic of fresh scars that adorned his skin. Arriving at the bedside, your gaze drifted downward, noting that beneath his waist, he was clad only in boxers. A scant, white sheet was the sole guardian of whatever remained of his dignity.

Mattheo's snarl reverberated in the room. "If you're here to extend your fucking pity, please, spare me."

A sharp retort escaped your lips, your eyes dancing with a hint of amusement. "Oh, I'm not offering pity...though you do present quite the pitiable fucking sight, I'll give you that."

"Then what the fuck do you want?" Mattheo's voice carried an edge, his eyes narrowing with impatience. “I told you, we are done.”

A pregnant pause filled the room as you let his question linger, a mental reel replaying the relentless week of torment he had unleashed upon you. Your gaze lingered on his tousled chocolate curls and once-enticing plush lips, forcing yourself to traverse the memories of months marked by a tumultuous dance between pain and pleasure. The realization hit like a sledgehammer--all those moments, the highs and lows, seemed to have led to an abyss of pure fucking nothingness.

A furrow etched your brow as you looked down at him. "It's unbelievable that I let myself get ensnared into feeling something for you."

"Your feelings were your own choice," he quipped, his head falling back with an air of indifference, eyes drifting to the ceiling. "Don't blame me for your poor judgment."

Your frown etched deeper lines on your face, the surge of anger unmistakable. "Regardless, you still manipulated me like a fucking puppet."

"Amusing how complaints disappeared when you were screaming for more every damn night," he retorted, lids fluttering with evident irritation. "Your anger's just a cover for the fact that you'll have to find a new playmate now...have fun chasing those highs, princess, but I promise you'll only end up disappointed."

Your jaw dropped in disbelief, gaze narrowing into a potent mix of anger and hurt. "You're a real fucking prick, you know that?"

Mattheo regarded you with eyes that seemed to hold nothing but emptiness. His silent response coaxed your hands to curl into tight fists, and your chin to tremble with the pressure of boiling blood. You hadn't come here for him to treat you like a mere specter, to act as if you were invisible, as if you were nothing--something you knew you had never been. And still weren't.

"Answer me," you hissed, your voice shaking with a blend of frustration and desperation.

He remained silent, his gaze an unyielding anchor in the stormy sea of your emotions. The void in his pupils became increasingly maddening, an inscrutable abyss that left you grappling with the uncertainty of what the fuck he was even thinking right now.

"Answer me, Riddle." Your demand sliced through the air, a fervent plea for any sign of acknowledgment.

But he remained stubbornly mute.

Your chest surged with frustration, the world momentarily blurring in your escalating anger. "Say something, damn it!"

It was only when the sting of his skin met the back of your hand, and red streaks of blood marked your knuckles, that you realized you had slapped him, reopening the scab on his cheek. Yet, that wasn't the shocking part--though it certainly played a role--what truly stunned you was the quiet, wanton moan that escaped Mattheo's lips, his lids fluttering while his body tensed against the bed. In awe, you gulped.

And then, a peculiar, wicked force stirred within, a voracious entity feeding on the months of torment he had subjected you to. Something that hungered for more.

So, succumbing to its dark allure, you withdrew your hand and unleashed another sharp, resounding slap across his cheek. Blood painted his face, and Mattheo groaned, fingers clutching at the sheets as his hips thrust into the air, his arousal blatantly revealed beneath the fabric. Spellbound, you observed as he collapsed back onto the mattress, his eyes fluttering open, holding a gaze that teetered between vulnerability and desperation.

Between the conflicted expression in his eyes and the pulsating bulge between his legs, the sinister impulse within you deepened, intertwining with a more primal sensation. One unmistakably identified as pure, unbridled lust.

"You fucking like that, don't you?" You breathed, your lips twisting into a sadistic grin.

"Are you trying to hurt me, princess?" Mattheo's intense gaze focused on you, alternating between his increasing arousal and your exasperated expressions. "You'll have to put in more fucking effort than that..."

"Hm." You hummed, grin widening. "If you insist."

You locked on to Mattheo's gaze, feeling empowered by the way his normally stoic expression was now clouded with a burning need. With a coy smile, you swung your knee onto the hospital bed, letting your skirt ride up around your hips and exposing your panties. His brown eyes lingered between your legs, and you could feel the heat of his gaze against your skin as you climbed over him, straddling his strong thighs. He tensed as his eager cock twitched beneath you, silently begging for more.

The power dynamic between you had shifted so drastically in this moment. Mattheo Riddle, famed for his cunning and ruthlessness, was now completely at your fucking mercy. It was an intoxicating feeling, knowing that you had the power to make him feel truly vulnerable.

"So weak," you spat, a wicked grin spreading across your face as you dipped your hips just enough to skim the head of his cock. The sight of his full-body convulsion was mesmerizing, and the shaky breath that left his lips told you everything you needed to know.

You could tell he was still in pain, but there was something else there too--desperation.

"Poor boy," you murmured, running your fingers down the curves of your own figure, taking pleasure in the sensation of your own heat as you slipped your hand between your thighs, caressing yourself. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Mattheo's eyes fluttered closed, his mouth falling open in a low groan. It was clear he was entranced by the sight of you touching yourself, and the way your words dripped with sinful seduction only added to his lust.

"Yes," he gritted out through clenched teeth, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "This is what I want."

"Look at you...so fucking needy..." you clucked your tongue and chuckled, extending out your free hand and running it along the wounded flesh of his chest, digging in with a little more force than you'd intended, judging by the groan that left his lips and the blood that split through the scab. "You're such a pathetic mess, Matty...it's almost too easy to control you like this..."

"Go to hell." His jaw tightened, a vein throbbing in his temple as he recognized the truth in your words. "You don't control fuck all."

"Oh, is that right?" you snarled, leaning forward and pushing your hands into his stomach, pressing down on his wound with added force, now. His face twisted in pain, and he let out a strained grunt. "How about now?"

Your heart was thundering with adrenaline, and while you had undoubtedly expected him to be furious at you for causing him harm, as he met your gaze, you saw something else entirely. There was a desperate need in his eyes, a yearning for more of the pain and pleasure that only you could provide. His lips were parted, his breaths coming in short gasps as he struggled to contain the sensations coursing through him. Despite the pain, there was a sense of longing that tugged at your heartstrings, filling you with a powerful desire for more of this intoxicating mixture.

"More," he whispered, his voice low and husky with need, barely above a breath. "Do it again."

"Oh, I don't fucking think so..." you sneered, your cunt clenching involuntarily at his request. But you were determined to make this man suffer. To humiliate him just as bad as he'd humiliated you, time and time again. "If you want something, you’ll have to ask for it nicely…I want to hear you beg for me."

Mattheo grunted again, bucking his hips, trying to grind back despite the pain of his injuries. Finding that impossible, his hands went to your waist, gliding up and down your thighs as he attempted to move you faster along his member, craning his head forward to get a better view. You scowled and smacked him away.

"I don't recall extending an invitation for your touch," you asserted, a glacial edge to your voice. "Why would I want your hands on me? After everything you've fucking done?"

His fingers balled into fists, exhaling when his head fell back against the pillow. You could feel him aching below you, already entirely fucking anxious to get inside of you. But then, he was still, hungry eyes trained on yours as he waited for your prompt.

"That's better," you purred, and found the next words coming out before you'd even thought them. "Good boy."

Your hips moved sinuously against his, a deliberate motion that left him breathless, his fists tensing against the desire to seize hold of your flesh. The surge of power was intoxicating, a heady blend with the fervor of your overwhelming desire and simmering rage. More than ever, your yearning for him to suffer consumed you. With a wicked grin, you lifted your hand to your lips, sensually running your tongue along the length of your crimson-stained fingers, sucking off the remnants of his blood. The sharp note of copper lit up your palate, sending a delightful shiver through your being.

"Mmm...you taste so good." You met his gaze between the long licks of your digits, his taste coating your mouth. "Wanna try?"

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze tracing the movement of your tongue as he moistened his lower lip. You enveloped one of your fingers with your lips, emitting a soft hum as you sensually cleaned it, gliding it in and out with deliberate slowness. Finally, you withdrew it with a wet pop, eyes rolling in dramatic effect.

Mattheo's jaw constricted, the sinews in his forearms taut from the tension in his fists. "Please..."

But you, unfazed, dipped your fingers back into the trail of blood leaking from his gash, adorning your skin with a bold red hue before returning them to your mouth.

"Mm, not good enough, I’m afraid..." you murmured, eyes twinkling with sadistic satisfaction. "You'll have to do much better than that, big boy..."

A growl echoed in Mattheo's throat while he gripped your thighs, pushing you down onto his swollen cock. His own hips thrust up against you, seeking any friction, any pressure at all from your heat. Frowning, you slapped his hand--and to your amazement, he pulled back, averting his gaze.

"These hands of yours are growing quite fucking insolent," you observed with a sly smile. "It's high time we addressed their rude misbehaviour."

A sinister grin etched across your lips as you shifted, smoothly extracting your wand from its thigh strap. With a deft flick, you summoned restraints, securing Mattheo's wrists to the metal headboard. His lips parted, eyes smouldering with desire, pulsating beneath you as the tightness closed around his wrists. Once finished, another few flicks ensured the door was locked, and the room was cloaked in a silencing charm.

"Much better," you said, tossing your wand aside. The gleam in your eye was almost maniacal as you reveled in the exquisite agony you were causing him, feeling a sense of power and control that you had never experienced before. "How's that feel, hm? Ready to utter those pleas for me, Riddle?"

"You're going to regret this, little witch..."  he spat out through gritted teeth, his gaze locked onto yours. "Nothing you could do to me is worse than the fate that awaits you when I get out of here…your days are fucking numbered."

Involuntarily, you clenched at his threat, a sly smirk playing on your lips as you dipped your fingers back into the pool of blood emanating from his wound--and with a decisive move, you seized his jaw with your free hand, thrusting your bloodied fingers past his teeth before he could voice a protest.

"Now isn't the time for your futile threats, Mattheo," you husked, tilting your head. Your fingers pushed forcefully into his throat, emphasizing your point. "Look how fucking pathetic you are...if only your friends could see you now...big tough guy, bound and gagged by his own bitch…it’s beautiful, really."

Abruptly, you withdrew your fingers, leaning back to assess your handiwork. His wrists were securely bound, a vivid red imprint gracing his skin, while his mouth shimmered with the subtle traces of his own blood. It was a tableau of perfection--humiliating yet exquisitely so. The image of him squirming against the taut restraints, his chest rising and falling with each desperate breath, compelled your hand between your legs. Sliding up your skirt, you explored through the delicate lace of your panties, skimming eagerly over your clit.

"Fuck," you murmured, glimpsing his mouth, “you look perfect like this."

This was retribution, and as you teased yourself while admiring the pathetic sight of him, thoughts buzzed with the torment he'd inflicted--the scalding intensity of his erratic behavior, the icy indifference he wielded, treating you with disdain, unfounded accusations of infidelity, and the frigid distance he maintained. The searing resentment flared as you recollected the havoc he'd wreaked upon your life.

It was months of emotional manipulation. A pattern that was impossible to acclimate to. His cycle of hot and cold, the relentless mistreatment, the baseless accusations, and the moments of aloofness, all preceding his inevitable return, pleading for your affection--this was the culmination of his deeds. More than anything, this was the reckoning he deserved.

"Come on, princess..." he muttered, eyes wide and pleading. "For Godrics sake, please...fucking please..."

A grin creeped across your lips, your heart leaping with excitement. You'd finally fucking broke him.

"There we go, Matty...that wasn't so hard, was it?" You purred, inching backwards along the length of his thighs, reaching out to pull the cover from his waist in an excruciatingly slow fashion, exposing his black briefs. "I love hearing you beg for me...you're being such a good boy..."

Mattheo's response came in the form of an exaggerated huff, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently pleading for your touch to alleviate the burning desire between his legs. Your grin expanded, reveling in the palpable tension.

"You want me to fuck you, Matty? Do you think you fucking deserve that?" You cooed as you caressed his erection through the fabric, glaring at him while he jerked and shook from your touch. It was incredible, watching him trying to thrust into your fist, whimpering, head lolling while you sped your ministrations. "Do you think you fucking deserve me?"

His groan reverberated, his body twitching beneath the firm clasp of your fingers. His lids fluttered, and his head arched back in a nearly imperceptible shake of denial.

"You never fucking deserved me, did you?" Your frustration at his silence echoed in the air as you delivered a sharp crack across his face, prompting a gasp from him. "Fucking answer me, Mattheo!"

"No!" he finally hissed, his knuckles whitening as his entire frame tensed. "Fuck! No! I didn’t…”

"That's right, you didn't…” you laughed, shaking your head. The sinful delight coursing through you at his torment was undeniable. "At least you can finally fucking admit it...a tiny step towards what might pass as progress, I suppose."

As Mattheo huffed, not daring to meet your eyes, you sighed, finally feeling as though some of your anger had dissipated. Not by much, but by enough. Granting him the smallest percentage of mercy, you wrapped your fingers around the waistband of his boxers, freeing his needy, throbbing cock--the length of his smooth heat springing back and slapping against his belly, a low groan leaving the depths of his throat as it did.

You clenched at the sight, the pool of heat in your abdomen expanding throughout your entire body now, your mouth practically watering at the mere vision of him. Just when you thought this whole thing couldn't get anymore perfect. Gods, he was undeniably fucking delicious.

"Tell me what you want, Mattheo..." you said, wrapping your fingers around his cock, slicking the bead of precum around the head, twisting your wrist as you stroked him. "Tell me what you need."

His eyelids pressed together in bliss as he panted, the rhythmic movement of his throat visible with each swallow. In the throes of pleasure, he surrendered himself to the intensity of your touch, the heat enveloping him in a cocoon of sensation.

"You..." was his only reply, head snapping back and forth, thighs tensing, cock twitching. "Please-fuck-"

"You like that?" you purred, biting your lip. "You like when I jerk your cock like this? Hm?"

Mattheo's jaw was slack with desire, his voice laced with breathy need, "yes..."

"Yeah?" You purred, tightening your grip, increasing your pace as you stroked him, leaning down slightly to spit on the tip, slicking your saliva along his shaft. "Who else could make you beg, huh? Who the fuck else can make you this fucking hard?"

"Fuck-" he choked, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, you could tell he was close. "No one-princess-fucking no one..."

"Mhm...that's fucking right, Riddle..." smiling, you threw your head back, your other hand resuming its motion on your clit, teasing yourself as you continued stroking him. "You know you can't fucking live without this...I don't know why you have to make things so goddamn complicated..."

"Fuck," he hissed, sputtering your name, "please, fuck me, please. I fucking need you."

"Shit...you're just spoiling me now," you mewled, your pussy clenching undoubtedly at his words. "Such a good boy...so eager to please me, hm?"

Mattheo released a long, exasperated sigh as you released him, shifting yourself closer. With a swift motion, you shimmied your panties to the side before you aligned his cock with your dripping core--the moan that escaped your throat was deep and lengthy as you sank onto him, feeling every inch of his hard, aching cock stretching you wide, filling you up with ease. Mattheo's body lifted from the bed in response, a sound somewhere between a sob and a scream escaping his chest as you enveloped him to the hilt. Leaning forward, you placed your palms on his stomach, shifting your weight to the heels of your hands as you began to slide up and down his shaft.

"Fuck," you breathed, lids fluttering. "I missed this cock...shit, you feel so good..."

Mattheo's only response was a string of shameless, guttural moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he surrendered to the potent mix of pleasure and pain. His body writhed beneath yours, his abdominals tightening in response to your movements. You panted heavily, bouncing up and down on his cock, taking pleasure in every inch of him slamming deep into your wet, eager pussy.

With each movement, you drove Mattheo wild with desire, listening to his moans grow louder and more intense with each passing moment.

Having control was entirely different--you were able to drag him into you, squeeze him tight with your walls while you slowed your pace, slam down onto him and make him howl. You watched him struggle below you, realizing he was trapped at his peak--and you were happy about it. This. This was close to what he deserved.

"I fucking hate you," you growled, the depth of your emotion evident in every word. "You embedded yourself into every part of my life and now you want to just fucking end things? Just go back to being fucking strangers? Over nothing?" Your voice cracked, the words flowing from your lips without restraint as you continued to ride him, hips moving in an untamed rhythm. "Why do you always fucking do this to me? Fuck-why?..."

Between his deep groans, his shuddering gasps as his wrists fighting their resistance, he managed to shake his head, his noises only growing louder the harder your rode him.

"I...I'm..." the words were forced through barred teeth, his eyes pleading for mercy. "I'm fucking sorry."

"Are you mine, Mattheo?" Your voice was strained with exertion, sweat growing on your forehead. "Were you ever fucking mine? Or was it all just a big game to you?"

"No,” he stammered, almost wincing. "No!"

Unable to resist the intense sensations coursing through you any longer, you brought your fingers back to your clit, setting a frenzied pace as you massaged the stiff nub with the pads of your fingers. You could feel Mattheo pulsing inside you, could feel his overly urgent need to cum, but right now, all that mattered was your own pleasure. As you worked yourself toward climax, your breaths grew ragged, soft moans escaping your lips as your body responded to your own touch. The pressure inside of you was building with each passing moment, urgent and insistent, and you knew that you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer.

"Say it," you panted, eyes rolling and body trembling as you slammed down on him again and again. "Tell me who you fucking belong to."

"Fuck-fuck..." he grunted, teeth bared, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "Please, princess...you keep squeezing me like that and I'm going to fucking cum-"

"If you want to cum, you'll fucking say it, Mattheo-" you practically moaned, entire body quivering with excitement. "Fuck-say it..."

A string of whimpers slipped past Mattheo's lips, his fists balled so tight it looked almost painful. "Fuck--you! I'm yours, fuck..."

Every word leaving you was a curse, and between every word was a strangled moan, resonating through your throat as you worked your clit fasting, fucking yourself on his cock harder.

"Gods, Matty, I'm going to cum," you moaned. "I'm going to cum on this thick fucking cock-fuck..."

Without being able to hold off any longer, you shattered, your hips jerking and twitching in an erratic rhythm, free hand digging into the flesh of his chest as you clenched and pulsed around him, forcing another onslaught of pleasured whimpers to leave his throat before he too reached his high--the tight heat of your orgasm sending him over the edge, twitching and thrashing beneath you as you continued riding him through your collective highs, not beginning to slow until the aftershocks began to rumble through you.

And after you stalled, you allowed yourself a moment to regain composure before you wearily eased yourself off him, releasing a prolonged breath--with a cautious movement, you reached over and gathered a sampling of your intertwined cum on the pads of your fingers, briskly bringing them up to his lips.

"Taste what I did to you," you murmured with a smirk, relishing in his groan against your flesh. Methodically, you glided your fingers against his bottom teeth, leisurely pulling them from his mouth. "Tastes good, doesn't it?"

His breaths lingered in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment of his silence, his eyes seemingly unable to leave your form. With deliberate movements, you leaned over, deftly undoing the restraints that bound him. As you meticulously adjusted your appearance back to its usual state, a mask of calm control, your gaze shifted towards the door, a calculated glance.

"May your recovery be swift, Riddle," you uttered with a tone that held a hint of farewell. "Until next time."

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

Hey uh I just found this out and I'm FURIOUS but miami zoo has a kiwi bird. Which is fine if they were doing what we do here and keeping it in a darkened enclosure with clear notices to be quiet and not bang on the glass. But instead this shy, solitary nocturnal bird is being kept in broad daylight and people are being allowed to pet it. NZ twitter is out for blood right now. https://twitter.com/zoomiami/status/1637864741954637824

…fucking yikes.

The kiwi I’ve seen in other AZA zoos have been kept according to the practices you describe: dark exhibit on a flipped light cycle, in a signed quiet area. What it looks like Zoo Miami is doing is… not good.

Here’s the link to their tweet with a video about the encounter (so it’ll embed):

The video shows a kiwi out of its exhibit: on a table in what looks like a back room with bright overhead fluorescent lighting. The kiwi has no room to move around and no place to hide as people pet it and reach around it to take selfies.

What do you pay to bother the kiwi four days a week - a species which in NZ is apparently illegal to touch without permission from the Department of Conservation? $25.

Obviously it just started and I don’t know anything more about it than what’s online, but even so, this is such a bad look for an AZA zoo, holy shit. I know a bunch of new ambassador animal rules just got promulgated… I wonder if this meets them. I’ll have to go do some reading. Also, USDA is now promulgating new bird rules (it didn’t regulate birds until just recently, only mammals) so this will also have to pass their muster soon.

The guy who runs Miami’s PR, and manages the animal media like the birth of their first kiwi chick in 2019, is known for big media stunts. I’m not surprised by this but I don’t think it’s going to go over well. There’s a lot of pressure on zoos to offer new encounters and programs to help make up for inflation and pandemic losses but this not how to do it.

I’d honestly suggest New Zealanders who are upset about this contact Zoo Miami formally (more than just on twitter) using the contact form on their website, and maybe even the AZA to express concerns about this program animal’s welfare - as well as the lack of cultural awareness at one of their accredited facilities.

Edited to add: a statement from Zoo Miami is supposed to be forthcoming tomorrow. I’ll update once we have it.

[sanguineterrain]

im begging you to write a part 2 of vigilante reader because the way you write??? the dynamic between reader and jason??? the sex tension???are chef kiss!!!

thanks very much! part 2 and I couldn't put off the reveal bc I'm just too impatient lol 🫶 but I might write another part post-reveal? maybe? cuz I'm growing attached to these two <3

jason todd x gn!vigilante!reader (nocturne). tw explosions, smoke inhalation, reader passes out, canon typical violence, identity reveal, asshole bruce. jason is in love? jason is in love.

read pt 1 here! | all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Go home."

"Bruce, I—"

Bruce looks at you, eyes sharp with fury and... something else. Something older.

The others know how to talk back. You still haven't gained the courage to sass The Batman.

"Go. Home. If you need an escort, I can call Superman."

You take a step back at his coldness.

"Bruce, I know I messed up, letting Hood escape but—"

"Yes, you did. You deliberately disobeyed an order. I told everybody to stand down. He could've killed you."

But he didn't, you don't say. He could've, but he chose not to.

He'd felt safe.

"I had it under control, honestly. He wasn't—it wasn't like the other encounters you've had with him. He wouldn't have hurt me."

That is the wrong thing to say. You realize that after the words leave your mouth and the muscles in Bruce's jaw jump.

"You can't be this naive. I know I wouldn't have chosen someone who's this naive," he says savagely. "You know Hood can't be trusted, and you're defending him to me. We've seen time and again he's rogue. He doesn't make sense and that's exactly why he's dangerous."

"But if you would just listen—"

"Enough," he snaps. "Enough. Go home. I'm suspending you for three weeks."

"Three w—I'm not even injured!" you cry.

"No, but you need the time. You're not thinking clearly. Go. I don't want to see you until next month."

You press your lips together before you say something truly foul. Something about Batman's habit of pushing people away. Something about dead Robins.

You don't let the tears fall until you leave the Cave. This is all Hood's fault. You know it would've been a different conversation if you'd managed to successfully capture him.

You'll take down the Red Hood if it's the last thing you do.

****

It takes you approximately two days to break your suspension.

In your defense, you meant to follow Bruce's orders. You would've stayed put and helped Barbara with research instead.

But not at the expense of civilian lives.

"All units to Canal and Riverview, 10-80. Standby. Do not enter the factory until given clearance from the Bomb Squad."

You turn off the police scanner and stuff it in your drawer. In Gotham, explosions usually come in multiples. If there's one, there's bound to be another. The police are generally inept when it comes to evacuating civilians. You know one of the other Bats are on their way, but you're the closest to the docks.

You glance at your suit. No. If you go as Nocturne, Batman might suspend you indefinitely.

You grab your gas mask and put on a black hoodie and a domino mask. You'll just have to make do.

The marina is blanketed in thick smoke. It makes your eyes water. But in the commotion it causes, you're able to slip past the barriers and help workers out of the factory. It's difficult because without the suit, people don't give you the same trust and respect. But you're anonymous, and that's all that matters.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You ignore the voice and keep hauling two elderly workers towards the exit. They're barely outside before you turn around, determined to clear every level of the factory.

You're yanked backward by a hand on your hoodie. You nearly lose your footing, but the hand is firm, dragging you towards the pier.

You're spun around and put face to face with a red helmet.

Oh, of all the fucking—

"Let go of me!" you shout, smacking his arm. Hood's grip tightens.

"I will as soon as you stop doing stupid shit. What were you thinking, coming here?"

You pause. Whoops. This isn't how a plain civilian would react to being apprehended by the Red Hood.

And that's definitely not how the Red Hood would react to getting swatted by a random civilian. Shit.

"I was, um, I was thinking I could help," you say haltingly. "P-please don't hurt me, Mr. Hood, I was—"

Hood sighs and lets you go, then tucks his gun into his holster.

"Cut the shit. I know you're Nocturne. I also know that you need some acting lessons because what the hell was that? Mr. Hood?"

A chill washes over you. "I don't know what you mean. Nocturne?"

Hood shakes his head. "I don't have time for this. The building's gonna collapse any second. Stay. Put."

He goes back toward the smoking entrance. Your eye twitches as you follow him.

"Last time I checked, you don't have that kind of authority, Hood."

He turns around and looms over you. "Don't I?"

Anyone else would back down. You might've a week ago. You should, after the tongue lashing Bruce gave you.

But there's no soot on Hood's helmet or vest. He doesn't smell sweet like gasoline or pungent like motor oil.

He was in the factory to help.

Something shifts. Batman is wrong. Batman is more wrong than he's ever been.

Because Hood's not the enemy here. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

You push past Hood. "It'll be faster if we work together."

"Oh, absolutely not. You're not even in your suit."

"As per your request," you say, flashing a plastic smile. "You're welcome."

"Don't get cute with me, you—hey!"

You dart past him and go straight into the factory. Hood shouts your name, which makes you pause, just for a moment.

But revealed identity or not, you need to clear the building. So you pull on your mask and run faster.

Your worst fear is confirmed when you check the upper level: someone was missed in the evacuation. It's a worker, and she's unconscious.

You don't think about how explosions come in pairs in Gotham. Don't think about how long it'll take to get to the exit.

You take off your mask and slide it onto her face. The smoke burns your throat immediately, but you ignore it and lift her in a fireman carry, just as you were taught all those years ago by Robin. He's the one who taught you how to save people without relying on brute strength or height.

You hope he's alright, wherever he is. You hope he's not too upset seeing you rush into a burning building.

That's your last thought when you see the entrance. Your face is covered in sweat and grime. The heat from the fires is exhausting. You can feel your eyes beginning to close.

"There's something seriously wrong with you," a decoded voice says in your ear, and then the woman's weight is lifted from your shoulders.

Hood grabs your hand, the woman over his opposite shoulder, and you make it out just as the second explosion goes off. It knocks you forward.

Hood puts the woman down just in time to catch you. His arm is around your waist, the other hand cradling your head. His gloved thumb touches your mouth, and you feel his dawning realization as he finally sees your mask on the woman.

"Don't tell Ba'man," you slur.

"Jesus fuck—" Hood starts to drag you. You feel lightheaded. He's moving, and you wish he'd stop. "You don't take off your mask. You never take off your mask. We taught you that!"

"She was unconscious, J'y..."

Arms tighten around you. Everything goes dark.

****

You wake up to the smell of scrambling eggs.

For a moment, you just bask in the smell. It smells like Alfred's breakfast scramble. Bacon. Butter. Golden potatoes.

Then you wake up further and realize that you're not in the Manor. You're in your apartment.

So who's cooking?

You get up quietly, slipping out of your room. You pause in front of the full-length mirror.

Honestly, you've looked worse. Your hair needs a wash, and you're in the same clothes you went into the building with, which are now a little charred. But your face is clean of soot, and your throat hurts only a little.

The kitchen sink runs. You slowly creep out into the living room, keeping your breathing even and silent.

The mess of black hair, you recognize. Sort of. You might've mistaken him for Bruce if you didn't know that Bruce has a lifetime ban from kitchens all over the world.

He's too tall to be Dick. Too skilled in the kitchen to be Bruce. Too nice to be Bruce, too—you can't imagine Bruce Wayne making you eggs. Especially when you disobeyed his orders. Again.

The red helmet on the kitchen stool turns your blood to ice.

You grab the letter opener from a drawer and wait a few seconds to see if Hood's heard you. Then you throw the letter opener with near perfect aim at his exposed shoulder.

He catches it without turning.

Your heart skips a beat. Every time you think you might get the drop on him, Hood reminds you just how competent he really is.

A mix of fear, aggravation, and something you don't want to examine too closely swirls in your gut.

"Impressive," he says. "Dami been training you? Mama Al-Ghul spent a lot of time on his knife lessons."

"Why are you in my apartment?"

Hood sets the letter opener down on the counter and turns off the stove. Then he serves the breakfast scramble on two plates, then sprinkles chives over them.

This is the weirdest kidnapping ever.

He sighs, back still facing you.

"You can't tell anyone it's me," he says.

"You make a lot of demands for a guy who just used the last of my eggs."

Hood laughs. It sounds wet. It sounds like grief.

"God, I've missed ya, honeylove."

Your heart pounds. You try to find another weapon, anything. Hood doesn't give you the chance.

He turns around.

The first thing you see is the stark white streak of hair and the curls you once loved. The curls that were near unrecognizable in the casket.

You were right: Batman was wrong.

[dawns-beauty]

Okay, to counteract all my complaining, here are some (lore friendly) mods that I just like a lot (no animals, people, weapons/armors, mesh/texture replacers, etc. because there's too many and it gets boring.)

-

Ghosts of the Deathbells: adds a really rare, somber event to picking a deathbell flower.

Falmeroon: adds Snow Elf ruins to some remote edges of the map. I've made an unofficial SE port here.

Snow Whale Bones: adds the remains of Snow Whales in some mountainous areas (iffy canon but sorry they are Cool.)

Windmills of Skyrim: adds windmills with unique, custom-painted sails to farms.

Scarecrows of Skyrim: adds scarecrows to farms.

Scribes of Skyrim: makes books and notes use a variety of typefaces (any fellow Pentiment fans out there?)

The Old Ways-Nordic Religion: adds totems representing the Nordic pantheon around Skyrim. Has patches for the next recommendation.

The Great Towns/Villages series: overhauls the smaller, worldspace towns in a really cool way, includes voice-acted NPCs. Personally, I like Kynesgrove the best because it actually adds to the lore about the Nordic pantheon. For Shor's Stone, I recommend this mod as well.

Redbag's Rorikstead: I like this mod over Great Village's version because the houses have sod roofs and I'm a sucker for sod roofs.

Capital Windhelm Expansion: adds some really thoughtful lore touches (Dunmer refugees outside the walls, an Arena, and a cool vampire quest)

Relic of Dawnstar: adds a Gehenoth skull to the White Hall (requires Cities of the North), inspired by the lore of the Travels game

Environs series: thoughtful additions that makes certain places change over time.

WiZKid's mods: especially Lund's Hut, Lively Farms, Icy Windhelm, Pinewatch, Hall of the Dead Stained Glass Windows, and Pavo's House. Sepolcri is also pretty good but loses immersion points for using celtic cross gravestones. You can pry Lanterns of Skyrim II from my cold, dead hands, though. Lux? Idk her, LoSII is my bestie.

Fancy Sleeping Tree Replacer: the Sleeping Tree is supposed to be a remnant of the sentient trees of the flying city of Umbriel (from the novels.) It should be weird, is what I'm saying, and this mod makes it alien and beautiful.

Unique Culture Riverwood: a mod that gives Riverwood its own style of farmhouse and a little more personality. The author has also made a mod for Falkreath.

Immersive World Encounters: adds more and edits World Encounters, including encountering faction NPCs out and about (ex. the Companions outside of Whiterun doing Companion-y things in the wilderness).

Glorious Doors of Skyrim: adds some really cool doors. 'nuff said.

Redbag's Dragonreach: adds some unique flair to Jarl Ballin's crib.

Cultured Orc Furniture: replaces generic furniture in Orc Strongholds with custom furniture.

Lavinia's Memorial: adds some gifts from her grieving parents to the little girl's grave in Falkreath. Ouch.

Nocturnal Moths: adds moths that spawn around lanterns at night.

Moons and Stars: fixes the positions of the stars and moons, as well as making moon phases consistent.

DK's Realistic Nord Ships: replaces Skyrim's ships with some gorgeous new models.

Morgenstern's Mushroom Circles: adds more fairy rings in the wilderness. Delightful!

Bloodmoon Brodir Grove: makes the grove in Solstheim a little more like it was in the Morrowind DLC. The mod author also has more mods that bring Bloodmoon details and locations to Solstheim.

Ships of the Horizon: does what it says on the tin.

EVG Animation Variance: the whole animation series by Everglaid is nice (haven't tried Traversal yet, but that is some incredible technology) but I especially like this one for the old people animations

jasperthegnome's houses: these are SO cozy and comfy.

Arctic- Frost Effects Redux: makes frost spells have cooler effects (including 3D ice spikes)

Northern Roads- Let Me Guess Someone Stole Your Sweetroads: a plugin that cuts down on Northern Roads, removing all the landscape changes and bridges and just keeping the clutter. Way more compatible than the original mod.

Skyrim Bridges: this is my favorite bridge mod. There are many, but I like this one best.

Edit: forgot two tiny mods in my original post:

Nightcaller Temple Unique Shrine of Mara: replaces the generic shrine with a wooden shrine Erandur carved

Broken Tower Redoubt Unique Shrine of Dibella: similar to the above mod, but Reachmen carved this one.

[madschiavelique]

𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : after your little late night training, you came back to your room once more thinking about miguel, and got called just a bit later to get on a mission. you’re all paired up, miguel ending up with you, and let’s just say the mission takes a different turn… or you give miguel a handjob in public toilets while on a mission

content warning : SMUT (18+) minors dni, handjob, miguel is so desperate i swear, no use of Y/N, so much tension word count : 4,2k

note : this bitch became so long i had to make it a 4shot instead of a 3shot, enjoy besties (proofreading is on-going on this one <3)

chapters' list : 1 - love bite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

tag list : @marit332 @coralineyouareinterribledanger @sunnyx07 @mamamiriamxo @l3laze @amy180801 @gojos-goth-gf

Needless to say, after that fortunate nocturnal encounter, you couldn't sleep at all as your thoughts about Miguel multiplied. You replayed the scene in your mind as if you were putting the diamond back to the favourite tune on your latest vinyl, his hands on your body as he readjusted your position, the tumble into which he had dragged you...

"Distracted?"

You rolled over onto your side of the bed, pressing your pillow against your chest. You thought back to the circular movements he was making on your waist with his thumb, to his darkened eyes, to his lips as he prepared to kiss you...

"There?"

You buried your head in your pillow, clutching it tightly under your fingers, your heart dropping into your stomach. And his canines had traced your skin, had trailed dangerously over the line of your pulse in your throat, intimately. You realised that he could very well have torn open your throat and made you bleed out in his arms, but instead, he chose to kiss.

"This is not over."

You would have tried to knock yourself out to get some sleep, but there was nothing you could do. Every minute, every moment, every bit of your attention was riveted on it. So you tried to put on some music, to relax, to put your thoughts on something else. But the taste of his lips on yours kept coming back.

What would have happened if Lyla hadn't interrupted you?

But one thought kept coming to the fore: the attraction is mutual. This simple idea made your heart swell.

Less than an hour later, however, just as sleep and rest were finally opening their arms to you, you were summoned to Miguel's office with some other spiders. So, tired but trying to stay alert, you hurried over there.

The situation Lyla had mentioned was the reason for the call. It seemed that several anomalies had found their way simultaneously into one single dimension, which led to Hobie, Gwen, Pavitr, Peter B, Miguel and you getting together at almost dawn to deal with the situation.

Everyone yawned till their jaws unhooked as the situation was explained, and all you could do was stare at Miguel. He didn't look too good either, but he hid it well, as always. He met your gaze only a few times, an indecipherable indifference in place.

Suddenly, a single, particularly gruelling thought came to the surface, and you felt as if your heart was going to come crush on itself like a tin can.

What if, at any moment, he were to pull you aside and say, "About what happened last night, forget it." You swallowed, caressing the hope that this discussion wouldn't come up.

Who knows, after all, maybe he just wanted to keep it a secret for the time being? You didn't mind the idea, there's always a certain excitement in secrecy.

"Hi there!"

You jumped slightly, placing your hand on your heart as you turned to Layla. The thing that made her so dangerous was that your spider-senses couldn't possibly predict or allow you to sense anything about her presence.

"Oops, sorry for the jumpscare," she smiled with a little shrug of her shoulder, "sooo about this situation with Miguel, how do you feel?" she asked, speaking much more quietly.

"What?" you said, looking around to make sure no spiders were paying attention to your discussion. "I mean... I don't know. We haven't really had time to talk about it." You rubbed the back of your neck lightly, feeling at a loss to reveal the countless thoughts that were monopolising your entire mind. "You mentioned earlier that... he's been keeping an eye on me. What did you mean by that ?”

"Mhm," she said, looking around, but not out of concern for the others, out of concern that Miguel might catch her talking to you. "Well if you wanna know, from time to time since the last mission you were here, the big guy would ask for your location and open a tab with the camera of the place you were in. Pretty creepy in my opinion," she laughed under her breath, "but his main argument was always about 'the bullet' and how 'gotta make sure you're doing better'," she mimicked him. "So yeah, things like that. I mean, he did mention some stuff-"

"What stuff?" you asked, hanging on her every word.

"I think he might've been struggling to find the right reason to approach you-"

"Layla!" shouted Miguel, irritation evident in his tone.

"Ugh, would've loved to chat with you more but Happy over there requests me. See ya!"

In less time than it takes to bat an eyelash, her pixels flew across the room to Miguel. The latter raised his index finger as if to berate his child, and you couldn't help but smile at the scene.

So Miguel had been keeping an eye on you all this time?

You didn't have that much time to wonder about it, though, because the portal to the dimension in question had just been opened.

"Here here ladies and gentlemen! called Layla, "To make the mission easier, we've split into duos so we don't end up like last time when it was a mess and we called for reinforcements," she cleared her throat and announced with pleasant surprise that the groups would be Hobie with Gwen, Peter with Pavitr, and finally Miguel and you. At the end, she winked at you. "Hop hop hop, let's get going!"

Miguel rolled his eyes and jerked his head in the direction of the gate before pulling his mask over his face.

As soon as you arrived, some sort of completely absurd lorry sped through the city, bumping into almost every street corner, the shape of the vehicle changing with each impact. One minute it was an ice cream truck, the next it was a military van, and so on.

"Who's driving? Stevie Wonder?" blurted Peter.

"Your powers of deduction leave me speechless," Pavitr gasped.

A sort of heavyweight surrounded by lots of red dentured toys walking all around him had built himself a ring at a crossroads with electric cables and cars to mark out his arena. He seemed to be calling out to anyone who thought they were strong enough to take him on in a fight, with anyone who got even a little too close being attacked and chased by the countless toys.

As for the third anomaly, there was still no sign of it. Miguel turned to the group.

" Alright, Gwen, Hobie, you're in charge of fast and furious," pointed Miguel.

"No problem, I'll show them!" confirmed Gwen as she took off.

"Go on, make us dream," added Peter.

"Pavitr and Peter, you'll be working on John Cena," ordered Miguel, as the duo took off, "as for us...".

Just then, in the distance, there was a strange, hoarse rumbling sound, not very loud, but perceptible enough for your keen senses.

"Here's the job," you confirmed, jumping up and pulling your web to get to the site.

The situation was a bit complicated, with three anomalies wreaking havoc all over the city at the same time, it was a serious quota.

The one chasing you now was particularly repulsive and complex. The enemy was... deformed, aesthetically flawed in the sense that its entire being was made up of a sort of light beige bubbly paste, simply resembling bread dough that had been left to rise overnight. The anomaly moved blindly, its being devoid of bones or joints smearing itself slimily over the surfaces it attacked and dragging itself along without the trace it left behind ever stripping it of its own material. Its gaping, open mouth resembled that of a sad theatrical mask, yet thanks to what you and Miguel had understood, this creature could identify surroundings by sound.

The key would have been to make no noise at all, but given that in a bustling city sound was unavoidable, the anomaly kept attacking anything that made even a little too much noise.

"The voice of wisdom is mute, it speaks in sign language, I can make out a middle finger crossing a circle made of a thumb and a index that stick together", Hobie had sung when you had crossed paths at one point, him and Gwen still chasing the lorry that looked like the ones that circuses use to pass through towns, warning of their shows with a megaphone.

The sound of this movement displeased the anomaly and it began to chase him, Miguel grumbling that intertwining anomalies was never a good thing.

It was necessary to divert this flabby paste and attract its attention, and find a way of neutralising it. Miguel tried to throw a multi-dimensional cell at it, but it simply sank into the dough without activating.

"Oh come on really?!" he raged, the thing suddenly turning towards him.

"Hey!" you called in the beast's direction, whistling loudly as it came towards you with that inverted smile. "Come on, come and get me," you smiled, rushing towards the inside of a shopping centre that had been completely evacuated as it closed in on you.

You ran, whistling to attract it.

Honestly, you had absolutely no idea how to confront this thing. You tried throwing a web at it, trying to see if it had any effect, but the web sank into the pile of dough miserably.

Dammit. Maybe clawing would have an effect? You stopped, positioning yourself, calling to it again, extending your claws.

It was hurtling towards you, and your uncertainty was growing with every metre less between it and you. And just as you thought you'd be swallowed up by the bubbly, viscous mass, you were pulled back by a neon-red web that had wrapped itself around your waist.

Miguel had just pulled you against him with one of his webs, distancing you as far as possible from the creature as he threw a web at a shop opposite selling some sort of plush toy that made a noise when pressed. The anomaly rushed at it, creating a cacophony of childish music and tearing as he led you down a corridor nearby.

"Are you looking to die by landing in front of it like that?" growled Miguel in a whisper.

"What can I say, I guess a brush with death is part of my beauty-seduction panoply."

He let out a small laugh, but shook his head to compose himself, "I'd rather you not die, please. Unless you're doing this on purpose to repeat the episode of your gunshot wound?" his hand came to rest on the spot of your old injury, a breath catching in your throat.

You flinched, he'd touched a sensitive spot. You could hear the anomaly in the distance as it fiercely pursued its quest for silence by destroying all the stuffed animals and other objects that might produce any sound.

"Silence suddenly suits you," Miguel murmured, his fingers brushing against your thigh again.

You swallowed, the sensations you'd felt at his touch just over an hour ago spreading through your body again. Did he want to tease you in a situation like this? Well, so would you.

You took off your mask, trying not to let the effect he was having on you show too much, even though the urge was overwhelming, and moved a little closer to him, putting your hand on his thigh. Your knuckles brushed against his covered skin, a smile forming on your lips. You were now close, only a dozen centimetres separating your two faces. His mask depixelised, revealing him staring at you with half-closed eyelids, breathing slowly as your hand came up to his hip, your fingers gently tracing it. He was watching your face with particular interest, calm and curious.

You placed your other hand on his chest, letting it slide down the side of his suit until it reached his back, your gaze never wavering from his. You tilted your head back slightly, feeling no need to overdo it given the fact that he was so tall. Then, bringing your face a little closer to his without reaching him, your hand came to the small of his back and your middle finger traced his spine from bottom to top, his body undulating as he contracted his jaw, letting out a sigh of ease, his eyelids closing.

You brought your lips to his ear, whispering as low as you could:

"I heard you've been watching me?"

You tilted your head to the side, returning to find his eyes, watching his eyebrows furrow at your remark, his upper lip curling slightly to show his canines as his lips formed a soundless "layla?"

You nodded softly, moving closer to his face again, your eyelids brushing his cheek as your hand reached further up his inner thigh, slightly higher than the midpoint between his knee and his crotch, his breath catching on the crook of your neck.

"So?" you whispered again, intimacy mixing with fear of being spotted by the anomaly.

"I did... I do." he breathed, his hand coming to rest on your waist until it pulled you back, pressing you a little more against the wall behind you. The contact made your body burn, his fingers the cause of that hungry fire.

His nose brushed against yours, "Had to make sure you were alright," he breathed.

"Is that the only reason?" you asked, your forehead pressed to his.

His thumb circled your hip in an almost hypnotic way.

"Maybe not," he admitted, his lips brushing yours.

"Hey guys- OUCH! How're you handling the situation ?" crackled Peter's voice coming from your watch and Miguel's. The anomaly immediately swivelled in your direction, "I'm never making fun of dentures again!"

Shit.

The anomaly leapt towards you, and Miguel grabbed your wrist to pull you away from it. You made your way through the maze of corridors with their light marbled floors. You watched your surroundings, trying to find a sound distraction. Not far from a stationary escalator was one of the typical pianos available to everyone in stations or shopping centres like this one. You threw a web over the keys, a strange chord playing for a moment, perfectly distracting the anomaly as you ran elsewhere.

Miguel drew you in when he noticed the distinctive toilet sign.

You went straight into a cubicle and locked the door. Out of breath, you leaned against one of the walls of the small space, trying to calm your breathing, fearing that the creature would spot you with a tiny noise like that.

When the racket seemed to die down, you relaxed and tilted your head back, resting it against the wall as you looked at Miguel through your eyelashes. The cabin wasn't big enough to accommodate two people without them being close together. It was even more complicated with the space Miguel took up, and that's precisely how close you were at the moment, close, your eyes connected tirelessly. You felt as if the air was electric with him, as if hundreds of tingles of closeness were crackling under your skin and he was drawing them all in his direction.

He breathed in, and his torso bulged until it brushed against you. His eyes locked with yours and looked down at your lips for a moment, then he moved forward a little to get even closer, putting his hand next to your head on the wall, and when his gaze returned to yours, the colour of his irises had turned red.

His height and width towered over you, and the impossibility of going anywhere became obvious. Not that you wanted to run away, on the contrary. He tilted his head to one side, his nose pressing against the soft skin of your cheek.

"I couldn't get you out of my mind... so I kept an eye on you," he admitted, resuming your earlier conversation, breathing softly, bringing his nose closer to your neck and inhaling your scent almost drunkenly as his hair tickled your face. "The taste of your skin, your voice, the feel of your fingers in my hair..."

You gently brought your hand to his shoulder, sliding it to the nape of his neck and snaking your fingers through his hair, raking your nails through it while he let out a shaky, breathy moan.

"Yeah, that," he grumbled quietly against the skin of your neck, feverish, his lips brushing against it and sending shivers down the rest of your spine as his other hand slid up the small of your back and pulled you to him until your two bodies were touching.

He began to kiss your neck as if its skin were the only thing capable of quenching his thirst, revelling in your scent and the warmth that emanated from it, tracing the line of your pulse with his tongue from bottom to top as it rushed under the sensation, letting a moan of ease rise from the depths of your throat at the same time.

His hand moved down your side to your hip, leaving in its wake a powder of stars that sparkled in your body and made you feel warm in your lower stomach. He ran his hand down to your thigh, grasping it between his powerful fingers as his fangs grazed the skin of your exposed neck, his other hand pulling on the collar of your suit to uncover a bit more of it. His hand was closing on your thigh, gripping it tightly and squeezing until you felt his claws digging into your still-covered skin, a strangled gasp rattling in your throat as his grip on it pulled you a little closer to him.

And you felt it, that hardness pressed against your thigh. Your heart skipped a beat, and a little knot of warmth sprang up in your belly. You lowered your eyes slightly, and they landed on his erection pressed through the fabric of his suit.

Oh shit. Big.

His fangs traced the skin of your neck dangerously, pressing harder, ready to bite as you breathed out in a whisper: "Wouldn't this be inappropriate during a mission ?"

He exhaled, his low growl reverberating against your neck as he kissed it.

"Hm't can wait," he mumbled incoherently, completely intoxicated by your skin and the sensation of your two bodies so close.

You had to control yourself so that your knees didn't give out on you, it was as if they were made of jelly; boneless, useless muscles surrounding nothing at all. The effect he had on you set your body aglow, heat pooling in your lower back as a fire had started in your abdomen, completely bewitched by his touch and the sensations he provoked in you.

A warm cloud had taken up residence in your lower belly, spreading under your skin, and every movement he made and every breath he breathed on your skin only warmed it, making it expand as much as it tightened.

Looking for a place to anchor yourself, you put your hand on his hip, your fingers still in his hair, tightening a little. He let out a hoarse moan, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Unconsciously, or simply eager for the sensations, his hips had started grinding on their own on your thigh.

It was then that this simple fact occurred to you: you had as much power over him as he had over you.

The thought did not leave you indifferent, not in the least. The simple idea that with a light rub of your fingers you could set off fireworks of pleasure and expectation in him suddenly gave you an exceptional feeling of power.

So you turned your head to kiss his hair tenderly as your hand slowly moved down the distance between his hip and his crotch. His grip on your thigh tightened, but that didn't stop your hand from continuing its trajectory until it reached his groin, tracing the covered skin with your fingertips without continuing your approach.

Miguel's breath mingled with the lament in his voice, and what a beautiful sound it was. Staying like this, tracing the junction between his pelvis and his thigh, was a particularly hot temptation.

"...wer." grumbled Miguel.

You had a pretty good idea what that word was, but just for the sake of it, you asked:

"Say that again."

He let out a groan as your fingers continued their incessant, static waltzing over his groin.

"Lower," he managed to articulate.

You smiled, then, to relieve him, brought your hand against his cock, twitching at the contact of your fingers. A sigh of relief mixed with a ragged moan vibrated through his chest, a slight spasm gripping his hips as your index finger traced his length from base to tip. His pelvis undulated further against the contact, seeking more friction, more heat, simply and preciously seeking more.

Your face, until then hidden in his hair, moved forward until your lips whispered in his ear:

"Like it when I touch you there?"

And you saw his skin shiver like one of an orange, his shoulders relaxing as he let out a "Hmpf" of approval, his hips undulating, craving the single touch of your fingers on him. You could now definitely feel his claws pressing against your thigh and just hoped it wouldn't damage your suit again.

So you wrapped your hand around him, finger by finger, close to the tip of his head, your thumb resting on top of it, making circular movements at a painfully slow pace. You could feel the moisture soaking the digital fabric there as Miguel's breath hitched.

Your lips still close to his cheek came to kiss him softly, moving down his jaw and a little further into his neck, letting your nose brush gently against his skin. Your kisses and the slight movement of your hand seemed to have a particularly pleasurable effect on him.

Since his erection was against his body, you couldn't properly enclose it, but you could see that if you tried to close the loop around it, you wouldn't be able to get your thumb and fingers to come together and touch, and that width impressed you as much as it intimidated you. After all, there's a fine line between fear and reverence.

Nonetheless, you slowly began to lower your fingers, now angled to embrace him as best you could over the thin fabric, then gently moved upwards, slightly twisting your hand near his tip.

A trembling sigh escaped from between his lips as his hand, hitherto resting on the nape of your neck, nestled close to your hair, gripping lightly as he straightened his head to meet your gaze. Needless to say, his eyes were darkened by desire, his jaw clenching.

You continued your movements, switching from the gentle, slow rhythm you'd started with to something a little more sped up, occasionally letting your thumb stop just below his tip, making gentle movements with it that drew moans of ease from him against your ear.

"How does that feel?" you asked, your voice barely audible, kissing his cheek softly.

"Coño," he sighed, coming to kiss your cheekbone "like heaven.” His thumb was rubbing over your neck, gently.

His hips became more insistent, seeking more friction and warmth, eager for anything you could offer him. He sprinkled little kisses interspersed with moans locked against his teeth, his fangs inadvertently grazing your skin, cheek against cheek, his sighs landing on your ear in a warm cloud.

"Don’t stop," he sighed, "don’t stop…"

His voice was deeper, low as his breathing started speeding up.

"Hey guys, we're almost over here, what about you?" Pavitr's voice echoed in the cabin, and you both gasped.

A mass commotion outside: the anomaly had heard your watches sizzling perfectly again, and you could hear it moving insistently towards you. The poor guy would have to wait, because ending up dead in a public toilet choked by a mass of dough was not on your agenda.

"Looks like the fun will have to wait," you whispered to him as you removed your hand from his erection, moving aside to open the door, but the hand that had been resting on your thigh moved up to grip your waist.

"What are you doing?" he snarled, his eyebrows furrowed, panting.

"I'm trying to stay alive and finish my mission," you replied with a mischievous grin as you could hear the door to the toilet entrance shatter.

The fire that burned in your body at his touch was still there... Well, yes, the fire! Yes, fire!

If this creature was made of dough, that meant it could bake. So perhaps it would become solid enough to be placed in a cell.

"This is not over," you whispered to him before starting to replace your mask to leave.

But he prevented the gesture from being completed in time to kiss you, chastely yet passionately. Your heart dropped warmly into your belly as you responded to his kiss.

He stroked your cheek with his thumb for a moment, his brown eyes gleaming with a mixture of frustration and hunger.

The dough paced up and down the corridor, and you leapt to the top of the cubicle, silently trying to pass over each of the toilets to reach the exit.

next part >> shameless (nsfw)

[2kmps]

A Simple Nocturne

alucard|adrian tepès x reader | 3.3k

synopsis; following the defeat of his father by his hand, you notice alucard becomes withdrawn amid an uncertain future. you take his hand, unable to bear the suffering he endures in silence.

story warnings; mentions of patricide, alucard in mourning, erotic content that isn't really explicit, written in 2018, sotn-coded alucard mostly, mdni!

At his insistence, he was often in your company for a few sparse moments while the moon was at its highest beyond the spires of the castle and coverture by clouds. You couldn’t say you were a fool to the layout of the castle any longer, and even once telling him so, he still offered to walk with you through the dismal corridors, guided by the dull flicker of candlelight from the candelabra in his grasp.

These were the moments with him that you cherished the most, the only ones he seemed willful to indulge you in. Following the defeat of Dracula by his own hand, you thought his eyes had grown colder than any hellish winter, reflecting the nebulous traces of his thoughts. He stood within your grasp these times almost always, and yet he was so far away from you.

Even as he walked alongside you, the halls comfortless and abysmal aside from the synchronic tap of your footfalls across cold stone that reverberated endlessly off the walls and carried on as though a voice growing more distant, you felt alone.

You could feel his presence beside you, his languid strides easy enough to keep in pace with, the tail of his coat nearly dragged the floor and wound his legs, and if you were to sidle just slightly nearer, you would be touching him.

He seemed a ghost; residual and purposeless, a man with nothing else he could possibly lose and yet for some reason even unknown to him, he continued living on.

The sweet glow emanating from candlelight cast across his face and showed to you a haunted man, an otherworldly beauty that captured the pallor and translucency in his skin, the glimmer of hair like tinsel, and a gaze with faint shine that swayed towards you.

You quickly looked away towards the worn tapestries adorning the walls and the many doors mirroring one another as you passed. However, after a moment, the discomforting echoes in the hall tapered into nothing as you both stopped before one door in particular.

“I feel like it looks different every night.” You said, fingertips curling away from the brass handle wrapped in the night chill. “I sort of feel like switching up rooms again. That alright with you?”

“You’re free to do as you wish, that has not changed.” Alucard gave his brisk reply. Perhaps if this had been your first encounter with him, you would had thought him rude, but there was no ill-intent behind his words.

And by the dimming glow from the flames, you could feel his gaze waver at the slightest, lips twitching at the corners as though trying to search for something more to say. You wondered if he thought he presented an unperturbed, impenetrable, always stoic demeanor that you couldn’t see through. It was likely of little comfort to him when your eyes pierced straight through him; those feelings, those things he perceived as his own weaknesses wore on his sleeve and made your heart tremble as well.

“Tomorrow, then.” He spoke at last, taking one step away for you as he turned. There was a reluctance in his movements, a lethargy as though realizing once he left, he would be alone again.

You couldn’t bear his suffering any longer.

“Adrian, enough of this.” You caught his wrist, jarring him to a halt while his eyes shone in surprise. “Enough. Please just talk to me about how you’re feeling. Whatever you’re going through. You’re not well, you haven’t been in sometime.”

The walls were crashing down around him, the facade was quick to melt away as his face began to twist as though anguished. “I’ve nothing left to say that’s worth taking your time.”

“That doesn’t matter to me, you damn fool.” You searched for his fingers, twining them together as the large door gave a suffering wail. Your first steps backwards into the room were met with resistance, the full length of his arm outstretched, lingering at your doorway with the candelabra leveled at his waist. “You can come inside. Please, just talk to me. If not for yourself, then just don’t let me be alone.”

And so, led by the warmth of your hand, he ventured in the darkness of your room. The brass handle gave a rattle as he closed the door behind him, freeing his fingers from your own to set the candelabra aside on the first table that caught his eye. Despite the black air that encompassed you, you navigated the room easily enough, feeling for the candles and dainty lanterns you kept at your bedside for convenience.

You turned your head towards the sound of scuffing fabric, managing just then to coax a lantern alight, basking the spacious room warm, dancing hues that didn’t quite reach your doorway. It pleased you, however, when Alucard emerged from that nothingness without his coat, shadows seemingly dissolving from his shoulders as he fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt.

The bed barely emitted a creak as you flopped atop of it, legs crossed under you, giving the spot before you a eager pat. “Sit right here and tell me what’s on your mind. I’m all ears.”

His fingers froze at the buttons on his sleeves, eyes swimming across the room as though cautious there might be others listening, observing you both. That feeling stayed with him even once he joined you on the bed, his presence little more than a slight dip in the mattress.

You scooted closer to him. “There’s something I’ve been curious about, Adrian. With, you know, everything that has happened. Are we—Are you going to stay here indefinitely?”

“Even I cannot foretell the future.” He hunched forward, arms draped across his thighs. “What it is I should do against what I feel I should, I think of them often. My bloodline is cursed, what good to the world has come about it?”

He said this one other instance, though your memories of that day were vague, dreamlike even. You only recalled roaming Dracula’s castle with him, and then the next awakening in his arms to a brilliant sunrise and a sprawling, glittering sea. That beauty was marred by his overwhelming grief, though his tears only glistened at the corners of his eyes, never falling.

“I don’t think you’re cursed, Adrian.” You said, reaching forward to give light strokes his arm. Through the thin fabric, you felt his muscles tense against your touch, his eyes fixated on yours. “You’re a good man who wants peace, who sacrificed so much, who loves his family more than anything else… even after everything.”

Those words seemed to soften him as his shoulders lowered, tresses of gold falling across his chest.  The shadows deepened in the creases of his brow, and even though it pained him for you to see his composure chip away, he could not will his gaze away from you. Not now, and not when the tears seared his eyes, clouding his vision until the your face was no longer discernible to him.

“Oh, Adrian.” You found your voice cracking, his despair so palpable that it made your bones ache. It wasn’t any thought in your mind to wrap your arms around him, nestling your face against his chest to smother your own tears. “None of this was your fault. Not what happened to your mother, nor your father. This isn’t something you have to deal with on your own.”

You had never felt so much rigidity in his body more than you did in that moment. Clearly, your response was unexpected, your touch even less so. Despite this, he let his vulnerability show, body trembling as you smoothed your hands across his back.

His fragility was heartbreaking, and thought it was not so, he felt so much smaller than yourself.

“I... I am tormented by it every night. By my mother’s death, seeing it again.” He whispered shakily, taking a moment to ease his breaths. “And by taking my father’s life by my own hand. I remember so vividly still, at the end before his death, he had a moment of clarity. He wanted forgiveness that I could not be the one to grant.”

“Adrian—”

When you felt his arms surround you, holding you flush to him as his chin rested atop your shoulder, you thought the air had been knocked from your lungs. How long had it been since he held you like this?

“Is this the fate I’m meant to endure? The knowledge that I was useless to save my mother, and my father was slain by my hand? Isn’t a fate where I seal myself away from the world something to rejoice?”

You couldn’t listen to this anymore.

“Adrian, my love, that’s not the answer!” you snapped, that outburst startling him long enough for you to slip your arms between your bodies to take the sides of his face in your hands. “Please, don’t talk about yourself like that. You’re still grieving, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But, you need to accept that you’ve always done everything you could.”

His arms loosened from your waist, yet he still would not let you go. A smile tilted the corners of your lips as you traced your thumbs under his eyes, swiping away his tears. You were doubtless that you could offer him little comfort in alleviating all of his agony. 

The only one who could bring that war in his heart to a standstill was himself, you could only do this and hold his hand when he needed it.

Aside from the drum of your heartbeat in ears, the room was void of noise. You indulged in that silence, mesmerized by the softness of his skin that still held traces of warmth, and glisten in his eye that you wanted to believe stemmed from something other than tears.

He was entranced just as much by you, leaning his face more to one side against your palm, though you noticed the way his eyes drifted down your face.

It was an invitation that you eagerly took.

The feeling of his lips against yours was something you had craved for a time, foreign for you both, though his reaction was much more genuine. He was unsure, startled even that you had decided to kiss him. His face remained still in your hands as you moved your lips to the corner of his mouth, feathering upwards towards his cheeks, to the tip of his nose, and then once again to the origin.

This time he held no reservations to your affection, one of his hands carefully caressed your nape while your arms rose to hook around his neck. His lips were as soft as you had imagined they were while fervor grew from the caress, rousing something in you that you had been forced to the furthest parts of your mind for a while.

You felt his hand sweep lower to your back, gliding between your shoulder blades until he held you at your waist and eased you down on the mattress. His loose curls were much like spun gold, tempting you to twist them like tight ringlets around your fingers as his hair spilled over his shoulders like silk.

It wasn’t until you felt the tickle of the crisp night air against your flesh that you realized his easy work on your blouse, unfastening the last of the buttons before reaching past the fabric to feel your skin. You were growing unfathomably hot just by this, keenly aware your chest burned where he touched you, and it crept higher and higher as his hands did.

“Mmmn, this isn’t how I want it to go, Adrian.” You managed between kisses, tilting your face away where he then found fascination in your neck. His warm breath fanning across your flesh, trailing the length of your neck and behind your ear was rewarded with a quivering, longing sigh. “Adrian—”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Yeah, I do.” You murmured, luring his face over yours again where you yanked him by the shirt into yet another ardent kiss. Without releasing his shirt, you ventured lower to fumble through undoing the buttons and peeled the thin fabric from his body.

Even though he was a lean man, there was still definition in his fame, muscle in his arms and chest. You memorized the divots and curves in his skin with your fingertips, unlikely to forget how he twitched when you touched him and his trembling breaths.

His pants and undergarments came off much faster, a reflection of your ardor and perhaps even his own as he swayed against you to slide them off his hips, cock hard against your thigh. The last of your garments was shucked from your body to join the heap on the floor, prompting you push yourself on your elbows as you kissed beneath his jaw.

“Lie on your back, Adrian.” You smiled against him, running your hands across his chest as persuasion. “Tonight is for you. I want you to know how much I love you.”

“As you wish.”

There was a flicker in his eye, a liveliness and searing want. His hands seized your own, pulling you up to straddle his waist when he laid back on the bed. There he explored more of you, stroking circles on your thighs and hips, eyes traveling across your body in a way you expected someone would look at exquisite art. “You are divine. This moment is ours, though I still do not understand what I have done to earn your love.”

“I don’t think any of us really do. We just love authentically and truly.” You answered, casting your eyes low to his erection and rubbed yourself against him. “I love you because you’re a good, kind man, even if you don’t want to see it.”

His breath snagged in his throat as you wrapped your hand around him, stroking his length and circling your palm around the head. You felt his hips lift under your, yet continued with fluid, rhythmic pumps. “I love you because you always try your best, you always do what you can with whatever circumstances are given to you.”

Even when in the clutches of pleasure, he was absolutely beautiful. His teeth caught the dim light when his mouth fell ajar, and his hair was a luscious bed of curls around him. You found it a bit humorous that you could elicit such a reaction from him, being what he was. But, you always believed him to more human than vampire.

It was after giving his cock a few harder strokes that he gripped your wrists, halting you. “Enough of this. I want to feel you, give yourself to me.”

You held no qualms to what he wanted.

Convinced by your nod, he released your wrists to grip at your thighs instead, massaging the back of them and then your ass when you rose to your knees to guide him inside you. His expression twisted deliciously the lower you went on his shaft, his fingers pushed deep divots into your skin when you acclimated to his girth and began rocking on him.

He didn’t let you go, not once.

Hot air hissed through your nostrils, lips taut and brow furrowing in your concentration to angle him just right as you rolled forward and then back. More than your own pleasure, you were careful to watch for his; the subtle twitch of his lips, the tension between his eyes, and the unyielding stare he fixed you with.

This moment was solely for him, yet you could say you were surprised when he began stroking your sides, raising his hips in unison with your thrusts, sending quakes of pleasure racing through your limbs and core.

There was a new glimmer in his eyes now, a coddled flicker that had grown in such enormity that even you felt embarrassed to be on the receiving end of it. He helped you in your motions, lifting you high enough for the tip of his cock to just nestle in you, bucking his hips to plow deep inside, luring a rather harsh gush of air from your lips.

At that point, you loomed over him, fingers splayed across his chest to keep yourself from completely collapsing on him. Your breaths quivered as you touched your lips against him, setting is flesh ablaze as your pants left hot, moist trails on him that then caressed his ear.

“There’s so much more I want to experience with you, Adrian. This—" you stifled a moan, body jarring as you rammed back down onto him, striking a spot in your that made your toes curl inward and abdomen clench tighter and tighter. “This—this is nothing.”

A sting of cold air touched your sides as you threaded your fingers with his, pinning the back of his hands on the bed next to his head. His knuckles bled of color as he clenched your hand tighter, pants seeming nothing more than dainty puffs of air, but your body knew otherwise.

Your sides were going to bruise, fully expecting the same of your hands. His thrusts were hard, belonging to a man creeping closer to his end. And yet, even midst all of this, you had never seen his eyes so dazzling, smoldering, encompassing you in such warmth and passion.

“A lifetime with you,” he fussed with your fingers, the back of his head digging deeper into the sheets as he writhed below you. “I—I could ask for nothing else. There is none other that I would rather have.”

As tender and genuine as his words were, you could only focus on the tension burying deeper in your gut, but spreading like a growing ember, a heat pulsing through your veins. Your walls tightened around him, the friction roused something of a harsher noise from the back of his throat, whereas you met your end.

You shook as you came, the strength in your thighs weakening and warmth in your body flourished, climbing to from your toes to your fingertips, and filled your vision with a glare of white. While the tension flowed from your body, your motions atop of him lethargic and fingers loosening from his, he thrust up into you a number of times; each reaching deeper than the last, fierce and quick.

The feeling was almost indescribable. He held your hands tightly, body halting and rigid beneath yours, cock throbbing against your walls and growing slick with cum that sent a shudder rattling down your spine. It was then that you noticed his chest relax when he released his breath, hips flattening against the mattress.

“Your love…” he rasped, tipping your balance as he lifted the back of your hand to his lips, fingers still tangled with his. “I will never understand what I have done to be worthy of it. And yet, I cannot find it in myself to refuse it.”

You couldn’t call the sensation pleasant as you removed him from your body, joining his side on the bed, and inviting the night air to dance across your skin. All but one lantern had dimmed in the room, his expression difficult to determine, though you didn’t think you would be wrong in your assumption.

“Truly, who knows why anyone falls in love. But, I’m sure of my feelings.” You burrowed your face against his neck, relishing his touch as it ghosted across your shoulder. “We’ll face tomorrow, the following day, and every day thereafter together.”

“I have no doubt of that.” There was a faint rumble of laughter in his throat. He coaxed your face higher with his fingers so as to easily reach your ear. “To begin this lifetime together, allow me to repay you the words that you’ve spoken to me so much already."

"I love you.”

divider;@/anlian-aishang

reposted from my deleted blog, cardeneiv

please interact and reblog if you enjoyed reading! 💜

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being Miguel’s daughter and hosting Venom [2]

[Platonic One-Shot]

c/w: fighting, depictions of violence and gore, angst, female pronouns (she/her), feminine gendered terms used to describe reader, Venom is a big softie, only for you though 🤭

a/n: this is marked as part two because the first one shot was the first part, the drabble was more of an introduction to the idea 😭 I understand there might be some confusion about how these parts are set up but yeah the drabble was intended to introduce the idea more than it was meant to be an actual part of the series— like an extended epigraph… sort of

—

It was raining the day your father had decided to return to your dimension— the dark and gloomy rain clouds above thick and heavy as they devoured the sky.

With them they brought raindrops thick and heavy in density that were spat out in a torrential downpour. Falling in copious and rapid quantities.

You had been sitting perched on the corner of a building’s roof, observant and watchful as you patrolled the streets from your perch.

The darkness that had followed the overcast night sky left the street lamps and starkly bright city lights bright and prominent in their glow. And your sensitive and finely tuned auditory perception picked up on the sounds of tires driving through rainwater on the pavement. The sound of particularly nocturnal people walking, bustling and moving about— the way their shoe soles stepped on the soaked through concrete of the sidewalk, some splashing as they came across puddles in the divets of the ground.

Everything that involved your senses and being aware of the world around you sharpened dramatically, now keen on focusing on the world around you. Listening starkly for any kind of traumatic event occurring.

“I like the rain.”

“Me too.”

“The atmosphere is relaxing. We feel at peace.”

You couldn’t help but agree, the weather more than accommodating in the sense your mood had improved drastically.

It had been two weeks since your father had made his appearance, and since then you had been tightly wound and more than a little hurt at his abrupt intrusion. Even more hurt at the way he had just left without so much as an ounce of effort in trying to get you to talk to him.

He had called your name, and he did speak to you— that was something you could acknowledge, but the fact he hadn’t bothered trying beyond that spoke a lot about what your relationship had come to. What it still was.

He didn’t care about you, he never had and the encounter from a little less than half a month ago gave you the impression that he never would.

A small part of you could admit that you had hoped maybe he would come after you, chase you down, take you into his arms and hold you tenderly. Lovingly.

An even larger part overwhelmed that feeling with a cold and bitter indifference that made you more angry than sad. Sparked to life when he left you behind in a home you didn’t know, with people you didn’t trust— and festered to much more significant levels as the years continued to pass with not a single word from him.

You shouldn’t have expected him to make an effort to fix your relationship, and you hated that you were so bothered that he hadn’t tried at all. You should’ve known that he hadn’t ever intended to be involved with you at all. And you should’ve just accepted that your relationship was beyond fixing— and there was no point in trying to repair something that had died a long time ago. Irreparable— damaged and broken.

And whilst anger and hate had spread and taken over most of your heart and soul, there was still a small part inside that was more hurt than anything.

That small child inside that had depended on her father more than ever in the wake of her mother’s death. A little girl that had quickly learned he wasn’t dependable, she couldn’t count on him at all. And she was quick to learn that there wasn’t anyone who had her back, was on her side. It developed into her trusting absolutely no one— “the only one I can really trust.. is me.”

“[Y/Name]? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured quiet and tame as you continued to watch over the city. The darkness and ache that had consumed your heart so very deeply at the remembrance of your father had dissipated when your friend had spoken to you. “I’m fine V.”

“Was it about him?”

You didn’t respond and they had expected that you wouldn’t, and didn’t say much after that. And you appreciated their understanding that you didn’t want to talk about them.

There was a moment of tranquility, peace in the loud bustle of your city as the rain continued to fall. But then your senses tingled as the familiar sound of a portal spinning open erupted behind you. There wasn’t a moment of stillness that you allowed before you were spitting webs at the wall behind the portal.

Miguel walked through the portal a moment later, it closed a second after and then you were launching yourself at him.

He may have not had the tingle at the expense he wasn’t even really changed like you had been. He hadn’t been bitten but had his genetic code changed, and his abilities came from a vial of liquid he injected directly into his bloodstream to keep his powers sharp and potent.

So, whilst he didn’t have the spider senses that tingled anytime danger was nearby, his natural instincts had been sharpened finely. Thus, he was able to bring up his arms as you drop kicked him into the wall you had slung your webs at.

Even though he was blocking his face protectively you had put enough strength behind the kick to hurt him, and he grunted as your kick connected sending him flying back.

[Y/Name] jumped to meet him against the brick wall and grabbed him by the throat, tightening her clawed fingers around his neck before she was pulling him from the wall and throwing him off the building to the street below.

The previous feeling of peace and content that had warmed her chest and blood had diminished, and was now replaced with thorough rage. Hot and ferocious.

[Y/Name] had sworn to Venom that she absolutely would resort to murder if her father ever returned to her universe, and here he was. So the alien didn’t falter nor make an effort to halt the anger that was slowly but surely filling his host’s body.

Another portal opened up behind her and she felt an itch of annoyance as she felt the familiar presence that made her senses tingle. Jessica Drew.

A snarl tugged at her features as she curled her lip and looked over her shoulder, a ferocious glare fierce and angry in her bright eyes.

“Venom.”

“Of course.”

Jessica stared as a thick, black matter pooled from her back and slid across her lean and muscular frame. The alien-like viscous oil gliding across every plane of her frame, concealing her entire white and blue suit in a tightened black version of it instead.

“[Y/Name],” Jessica began soft and quiet— an attempt to somehow quell the furious fire of rage she could feel hot and angry from where she stood several feet behind the young teenager. “I know what you must be feeling—”

“You don’t know shit.”

“You want to kill him. And I can’t let you do tha—”

Her sentence was cut short when she was suddenly thrown backwards, her senses had tingled but not nearly quick enough. And she had been sent backwards to the brick wall in consequence, she gaped at the O’hara stood in front of her on the edge of the roof.

She had turned to face Jessica with her back, and the blackened webbing surrounding her body seemed to pulse and tightened around her body. Every time she squirmed attempting to loosen them, cut them or escape they would just tighten. She resorted to calling out to [Y/Name] instead—

“Spider-Woman doesn’t kill people!”

[Y/Name] willed her mask to peel away, the small and thin tendrils crawling up her neck and hugging her forehead only made the harsh glare she threw at Jessica over her shoulder much darker. The snarl she gave baring abnormally sharp canines seemed to make her even more intimidating— it made Jessica uncomfortable how a simple look made a chill rake down her back.

“You’re right. But we do.”

And she shivered again at the alien voice that rumbled from the young adult’s chest. The words she spoke only succeeding in making her all the more uncomfortable and frightened. The tone she spoke in was deep and ferociously monstrous. And Jessica stared as the O’hara glared back for a single second before she jumped disappearing over the side of the roof.

[Y/Name] landed on the sidewalk paved along the side of the asphalt road, she jumped forward flipping out of the way as her father shot a web at the spot she occupied previously.

But he had jumped to meet her midair and they grappled as they fell back to the road, she managed to wrangle a hold on the back of his suit and brought forth Venom’s strength to throw him down the road before landing on it herself.

Miguel’s sharpened instincts flared aggressively as his young daughter launched a car at him. He spun around extending his arm forward simultaneously— the long and sharp blade on his forearm cutting the car cleanly in half. But she had been there to surprise him, lunging forward after she had thrown the car knowing he’d cut it in half opening up an ambush as she erupted in between each piece of the vehicle.

He gasped silently in shock at her appearance through the split and grunted when her punch connected to his face. Enough strength from her abilities coupled with Venom to send him flying back. And he flipped midair to land on his feet several feet down the street, he dug the blades on his forearms into the pavement to halt his movement as he looked up.

“I suffered! Alone! For twenty years, because of your cowardice!” [Y/Name] shouted as she stormed down the street, the mask Venom provided peeling back to reveal a ferocious snarl tugging her lips back and baring abnormally sharper canines.

“Protecting the security of the multiverse is not cowardly!”

“You knew invading another universe at the expense of your variant’s death was wrong! You knew your presence could collapse the very fabrics of a dimension! You always knew!” She roared in exclamation to his rather weak defense, having stopped just a few feet in front of him to properly put her feelings forward. Give him everything she had bottled up inside that had erupted suddenly since his abrupt appearance in her dimension two weeks ago.

Miguel just stood there, he swallowed thickly at her statement as he held eye contact with her. There wasn’t any indication he was intimidated by her on his face, his expression blank and guarded with slanted brows and narrowed eyes. But internally he was dreading the fight that would no doubt occur, she was anomoly after all.

“But— when she told you she was pregnant, when she told you she was excited to start your family.. what did you do? What did you do? You. Ran!”

“She was never meant to bear children! Never meant to give birth to you— that was not my fault!”

The audacity he had to ruin her life and not even acknowledge it only made [Y/Name] all the more furious, her blood boiling beneath her skin as she tightened her vicious snarl. “Not your fault?!”

[Y/Name] advanced forward, she reached to her left— her muscular forearm flexing beneath the deep black Venom suit as she gripped the side of another car and effortlessly lifted it throwing it at him.

He jumped to the side to dodge but she was there to meet him once again, having leapt from her spot on the street to put her knee in his face. He couldn’t bring his arms up quick enough to block it this time, and she forced him backwards when she utilized Venom’s alien strength to really hurt him.

Miguel grunted as her strike connected and he was thrown into the side of the building off to the side. She followed right behind him tearing her arm back and throwing it forward the second she was close enough. The hit had enough power and strength in it to send him right through the brick wall and into the empty warehouse within.

[Y/Name] landed several feet away from the form of her father on the ground, he was slow to get back to his feet but once he had he turned to face her. And she could tear his throat out at the scowl carved into his features, the conversation that followed only making her all the more infuriated.

“I’m not here for any other reason than to capture the anomaly in your dimension.” He says, a still blank and guarded look on his face. One that his young daughter matched only to a degree that looked more like she was enraged rather than unbothered.

“There’s no anomaly here, Venom and I would’ve picked up it’s unnatural scent immediately.” She reasoned.

“You wouldn’t know of it’s presence. Because it’s you.”

“What?”

“You are an anomaly, you were never meant to be born.. never meant to be bitten… never meant to host Venom. You don’t belong. You need to be contained.”

[Y/Name] froze, Venom inside stilling too as he and herself processed the words that had just fell from her father’s mouth. All was quiet for but a moment—

“You…”

Miguel watched as a dark look overtook her features, from enraged previously to downright hostile as her eyes darkened to an unseen degree. He felt a shiver of fear and intimidation shuck down his back in a brief burst.

“You bastard.”

The snarled words growled from her throat sent another ripple down his spine. And he swallowed thickly as the deep black viscous matter of Venom returned, and then she bore the same appearance as before.

The same lean and muscular frame but now entirely black with a white spider insignia, her mask’s eyes now more monstrous-like as opposed to the regular diamond shape as most spider people.

“Fine.”

[Y/Name] Venom snarled ferociously, Miguel watched as the alien bulked up his daughter. Not so much so that it wasn’t proportionate but enough to have him breathe out a brief exhale of uncertainty and anxiety.

His daughter had become powerful in his absence, and he had caused the black hatred to plague her heart. The fact she only looked at him with hate and a fiery light of murder and bloodthirsty rage was his fault and his fault alone. He had no one to blame but himself.

So, he really had no one to blame for this fight that would occur one way or another. He wasn’t sure he could beat her, and for the first time in a long while he felt a surge of anxiousness brew to life in his stomach. His heartbeat slightly erratic at the new feeling of diminished confidence in his chest.

He knew this would be hard, he knew he was walking into this fight with a significant power difference, and he knew for damn sure he wasn’t certain he’d keep his head. And Miguel had no one to blame for it—

But himself.

—

a/n: started writing out requests so expect to see those soon but don’t get too excited as I can’t promise when exactly they’ll be finished and posted, my classes are kicking my ass and my job fucking sucks so.. bear with me please and I hope you enjoyed!

—

Taglist: @violilaqrs @christinesdemoness1958 @erensbbg @nickey-diano @gamersansblog @ayyybee @raweggeater @shrekstoesblog @azzy-ozborn @nda-approval @9kaaulitz @jazjelspen @myconglomerateromance @sweetheartlizzie07 @nyx-does-stuff @krazy-kattzz @sparklyphantom @loser-alert @bath1lda

Sorry if I missed you on the taglist!

[hausofneptune]

✾ persona chart series ✾ the moon

[astro notes no. 008]

hey y'all! i've been hyper-fixating on my persona charts for the past two weeks and i thought it'd be fun to make a cute lil astro notes post about it, so here we are! these notes/observations are all relative to the placements in one's moon persona chart, not the natal chart. as always, energy manifests differently for everyone, so if it don't apply, let it fly.

the moon persona chart is representative of how your emotional nature impacts your personality and different areas of your life. it's indicative of your feminine/nocturnal identity, and how that part of you is shaped and expressed, as well as how your domestic life is structured. click here to calculate your persona charts!

༄ moon in taurus can be representative of needing physical/material security in order to feel emotionally fulfilled and stable

↝ this placement can also indicate a persistent or "fixed" nature when it comes to one's emotions, these natives may be immovable in the way that they feel at times

↝ they may also have mothers, maternal figures, or family in their households growing up, that influenced them in some way shape or form to care deeply about being financially stable enough to take care of themselves

༄ uranus in the 1H can show someone who’s very emotionally expressive, and may be perceived as being emotionally unbalanced or erratic at times

↝ this may also indicate that one’s home life (growing up and/or present day) is turbulent or unconventional in some way shape or form

↝ this can also manifest as feeling as though people misinterpret your emotions and the way in which you express them

༄ mercury conjunct venus is indicative of seeking and building connections that feel safe enough for emotional expression and vulnerability

↝ these natives could encounter difficulty in their interpersonal relationships if they repress their true emotions and prioritize “keeping the peace” over honest communication

↝ this can also indicate finding ease in processing emotions and expressing one’s feelings through creative endeavors such as writing or singing

༄ mars in virgo indicates a strong emotional investment in one's devotion to their work or "practical" obligations

↝ this can also manifest as the native habitually overthinking their own feelings, or being doubtful that they can reach their goals, despite their achievements

↝ this would be another placement that ignites a deep need for stability in the native, and can even cause physical ailments if that need is not met (i.e. stomach/bowel issues, anxiety, migraines, etc.)

༄ ascendant trine moon can show up as someone who, through the lens of those around them, is defined by their caring and nurturing qualities

↝ these natives tend to be very empathetic and intuitive, and may express themselves in a way that is influenced by their maternal figures/family. they may also view their homes as an extension of their own personal self-expression.

↝ they're typically innately trusted by those around them, as they tend to have an acceptance of their own emotional nature that in turn extends to those around them

༄ sun opposite saturn can indicate a feeling of constraint surrounding one's emotional expression

↝ this can manifest as someone who may feel overwhelmed by their responsibilities, and can result in a strain between emotional vulnerability and their obligations, these natives may struggle with being too self-critical at times

↝ on the flip side, an evolved manifestation of this aspect can grant the native with a level-head in relation to navigating their emotions, and the ability to be more rational in conflict

༄ jupiter in the 9H manifests as someone who feels deeply connected to their spiritual growth and places emphasis expanding their beliefs

↝ these are the type of people who others may lean on in vulnerable moments, as they're inherently very optimistic and are able to offer reassurance and comfort to those around them

↝ their values are typically derivative of their own personal feelings, and they tend to be very enthusiastic about their beliefs as a result

༄ moon sextile pluto is representative of feeling one's emotions on a deeper level than the average person

↝ this tends to be a very spiritual placement, as these natives are able to recognize the subconscious feelings and needs of those around them due to their intuitive nature

↝ these natives may need to work towards instilling boundaries and keeping their cup full before pouring into others, as they're innate healers and instinctively want to help those that they're connected to

༄ neptune in aquarius indicates someone who seeks to protect and nourish those who are unconventional or whose beliefs and self-expression reject the status quo

↝ these natives may have struggled with feeling like outcasts in youth, as a result are open-minded and accepting to those whose identities are unorthodox in some way shape or form

↝ they tend to find emotional fulfillment through aiding humanitarian causes, and may even excel as social workers, therapists, community organizers, etc.

༄ mercury in scorpio shows someone who is extremely intuitive and emotionally stimulated by exploring the deep, psychological depths of those around them

↝ they seek emotional connections where they're able to bare the deepest parts of their soul with the other person without any judgement or shame

↝ these are the types of people who are deeply dedicated to the things that they believe in, and refuse to let any challenges get in the way between themselves and their passions

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[sixteenseveredhands]

Namib Sand Geckos: these nocturnal geckos have biofluorescent markings that emit a bright, neon-green glow when exposed to the moonlight

This species (Pachydactylus rangei) is found only in the Namib Desert, which stretches across Namibia, Angola, and South Africa; the geckos typically inhabit the arid, coastal region known as the Skeleton Coast.

In order to escape from the blistering heat of the desert, they use their webbed feet to burrow down into the sand during the day, and then emerge only at night, when the temperature has finally dropped. The webbing on their feet also enables them to run more easily across the dunes.

Namib sand geckos are covered in translucent scales, but they also have a strangely colorful appearance, as the colors/shades of their circulatory system, spinal column, internal organs, and optical membranes remain partially visible through the skin, producing various shades of pink, dark blue, purple, magenta, orange, and yellow.

They also have several distinctive markings running along their lower flank and encircling their eyes; these markings are known to fluoresce when exposed to UV light (including moonlight), emitting a bright, neon-green glow.

Some researchers have theorized that the biofluorescent markings may act as a signal to other geckos, allowing them to locate one another in the vast, desolate expanse of the desert, as this paper explains:

The fluorescent areas of P. rangei are concentrated around the eyes and along the lower flanks. This positioning is practically invisible to predators with a higher perspective (e.g. birds and jackals), but highly conspicuous from a gecko’s perspective. As P. rangei is sociable but generally solitary, and occurs at low population densities, such a signal might serve to locate conspecifics over greater distances ...

Encounters in P. rangei might serve purposes beyond mating opportunities: as the Namib desert has extremely low precipitation, fog is a key water source for its flora and fauna. Fog condenses on the bodies of the geckos, and they lick it from their faces. In husbandry, we have observed individuals licking water from conspecifics, taking advantage of a much greater available surface area.

Additionally, after short periods of isolation, the geckos run to meet each other. The combination of vital hydration with socialisation might reinforce signals that enable such meetings, and the cost of visibility to predators with higher vantage points, might constrain the signals to regions best visible from eye-level and below.

The Namib sand gecko is the only terrestrial vertebrate that is known to use an iridophore-based form of biofluorescence (you can find a more detailed explanation of that mechanism in the article mentioned above). The fluorescent dermal markings are also unique to this species.

Sources & More Info:

Scientific Reports: Neon-green fluorescence in the desert gecko Pachydactylus rangei caused by iridophores

Animal Diversity Web: Pachydactylus rangei

Dr. Mark D. Scherz's Blog: A Neon-Green Glowing Gecko!

Australian Geographic: Skeleton Coast - Namibia's strange desert dwellers

[istoleyoursk1n]

Hello there! I’ve seen your stuff and it’s very good! I have one for the main crew with a Dhampire!Tav. That’s essentially a half vampire born from a mother infected with vampirism and they have all the benefits of being a vampire with no, minus the thirst for blood that’s more a craving and provides a power boost, negatives. Tav tries to abstain from blood as much as possible, but does give in for emergencies.

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How would they react to a Dhampir!Tav

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: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Ugh. Just so you know, there can only be one. And it doesn't take much to see who’s the better vampire, darling. You best not go snacking on the delights I've claimed for myself.”

You’d think he’d be relieved but he's more so irritated by your presence at first. You’re quite literally everything he wished he was, something that makes him envy you.

You don't have to constantly satiate your thirst for blood and you can walk in the sun! Sure, he can do so now, but that's only because of the squirming little parasite in his head.

However, over time, he’d get over his bitterness, realizing that perhaps he cared for you more than he initially thought.

Sure, you have advantages he only dreamed of obtaining himself but having another vampire by his side did prove to have its own perks. All so suddenly you are both drinking goblets of blood in place of wine, dancing in the glow of the luminous moonlight as the nocturnes you are.

He's a horrible influence because there's no doubt he made you indulge in your blood cravings more than you ever used to.

Though, he’d have it no other way. He does quite enjoy the sound of a vampiric power couple racing through the night, it appeals to every fanatical dark dream he's ever had and it makes it all the more special.

: ̗̀➛ WYLL

“To see not one but two fanged companions join us on our little adventure? Well, I can't quite tell if I should be relieved or tense. Regardless, it's a pleasure to have you.”

It was conflicting enough to have one vampire in camp but two? His job was to slay monsters but you don't seem to be posing a threat at all. Less of a threat than Astarion at least.

He very quickly moves past his whole ‘but aren't I meant to kill monsters?’ conflict in favor of befriending such a compelling companion, one he finds himself growing quite fond of.

And there was just something so incredibly romantic of being a monster hunter himself and falling for a creature of the night (and sun at this point).

As corny as it sounds, he’d been dreaming up that fantasy for a while now, finding himself going out of his way to woo and win over a vampire's undead heart.

One blissful dance by the lake against the twinkling stars of night, hands interlocked, and the sudden burn of piercing fangs caressing his skin only for his own soft kiss to follow—romance and its finest.

All so suddenly he's fallen head over heels for the same type of beasts he's sworn to rid of, though you are no beast in his eyes, more of an angel whose sharpened teeth could be nothing more than a sweet blessing in disguise.

: ̗̀➛ GALE

“The more the merrier I suppose. You never know when one needs four sets of fangs in the journey ahead. Perhaps, you could talk sense into another particularly bloodthirsty friend of ours, hm?”

And then there were two.

He didn't quite trust you around him at first, you were still a vampire, and frankly after the Astarion encounter, he’d rather not be bled out dry.

Over time, he’d grow curious. It's not every day he encounters a dhampir out and about. He’s read about them of course but studying an actual dhampir was a whole different story.

He would often compare you to the books he’s read about your kind to the actual information you provide him, noting that once the whole absolute mess is over, he’d gladly rewrite the dhampir section of his book collections.

Eventually, the fact that you're a dhampir would easily go over his head. He can't see you as anything else except for the companion he's grown to be incredibly fond of.

Perhaps he’d try to find other ways to satiate your blood cravings if he's ever reminded of them, doing his own little research as to what the best substitute could be. It's more so for convenience so he wouldn't have to witness another chicken being drained raw.

Other than that, he's completely contented with you, fangs included. There is no other he could have chosen to have endured this treacherous journey with.

: ̗̀➛ KARLACH

“Fucking hell! Another vampire?! Well, shit, I must be pretty damn lucky or something. Between you and me, I think it's great to have another fanged friend join us, you have got to meet Astarion!”

She gets excited over the fact that you're a dhampir for about a day before it goes over her head.

She's seen far more threatening things than a human half-vampire to ever feel the slightest bit of intimidation at your presence.

Besides, if you ever do try biting her, good luck handling blood as hot as the flames of Avernus. That’ll give her a good laugh.

She has a lovely little thing for nicknames and if she gets to call Astarion ‘Fangs’ you’re being called ‘Fangers’. Cheesy, but it makes her all the more happy.

And if the need for blood ever arises, fret not, she would gladly beat the shit out of some bastard goblin for you to snack on (if you don't mind the taste of goblin blood of course.)

Overall, the fact that you’re slightly vampiric never bothered her at all. You’re the best thing that's ever happened to her and she wouldn't mind no matter what form you took.

: ̗̀➛ SHADOWHEART

“It seems that another vampiric acquaintance joins this strange little party of ours. I suppose finding ways to satiate another vampire’s odd diet wouldn't be too much of a hassle with all the dead goblins lying around. Enjoy the meal.”

She was a bit apprehensive at first. She was already a little put off by Astarion being a vampire, she didn't quite trust herself bearing her neck around that man and now there's you.

You’d have to slowly build some trust in her if she were to ever let her guard around you, of course, there are the playful jabs here and there but she seems mostly impartial with your presence for now.

Her weariness fades soon enough, it's not as though your blood cravings are bad enough for you to turn to your own companions for a taste. She’s only ever seen you feast on animals.

Over time, she’d grow contented with your presence, hardly ever pointing out your own vampiric features as you seem quite normal for the most part.

Your advanced healing at least gives her a break from having to constantly use her healing spells so she's at least grateful for that.

She truly doesn't have any qualms about you now that she fully understands your capabilities and who you are as an individual. You are a lovely companion to have and it's fairly nice having you by her side.

: ̗̀➛ LAE’ZEL

“Chk. Best you keep your thirst for blood on our foes lest I pull out your sharpened fangs from your gnawing mouth. I will not have you or anyone come to draw blood from my own skin.”

As long as you don't intend on placing her fangs anywhere near her, she doesn't care.

She’ll base her opinion on you depending on what use you could provide to her, and seeing as you are essentially a vampire without all the negative effects that come from being one, that's perfect!

You are quite effective in and out of battle, an admirable trait she has directly told you on a handful of occasions.

It's rather flattering to hear ‘compliments’ or more so tactical observations come out of her mouth from time to time but she does seem quite impressed by your abilities.

Even the part of you that craves blood is one she doesn't quite mind as long as you aren't senselessly draining out the blood of every creature you pass.

If you two do grow close, she does actually hunt animals for you, bringing them back to you as ‘tokens of appreciation’ so you’d have something to snack on (She doesn't want to show it but seeing you indulge makes her happy).

At the end of the day, she truly sees you as a worthy companion to travel alongside her. A companion she wishes to treasure and travel with for as long as time allows her.

: ̗̀➛ HALSIN

“How lucky am I to have lived long enough to witness vampires having the capacity to walk in the sun? Truly such a special gift to have especially for someone like you. Perhaps one day all of your kin could have the chance to see the sun again.”

The least concerned out of all of them.

He’s lived long enough to understand whether or not you could possibly pose a threat and honestly? You don't even seem intimidating enough to phase him.

The only thing he's actually upset about is the fact that you have to kill precious creatures of nature to satiate your occasional cravings for blood.

He wished there were other alternatives, and honestly, he’d rather see you snack on a goblin than the poor critters living in the forest. Though, he does understand how foul the taste of goblin must be.

At some point, he probably would have offered himself as a substitute for your blood cravings. Better him than the animals. Though, you couldn't quite tell if he was nervous or excited about the prospect of you biting into him.

It turned out to be both when you first tried, and now it's become quite a normal thing for you two. Halsin doesn't seem to mind and you get to have a free snack from time to time.

Besides, there's something about your fangs that makes his own heart beat a tad bit faster than usual. A detail you don't miss at all and something he's very much aware of.

He trusts you enough to not drain him, and regardless, he treasures you as a companion. What you are could never stop him from being as close to you as he is now.

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