#maybe he was reaching for the crown and that’s how vamp

[movedtodykedvonte]

Simon got bit multiple times in vamp world…

[phantomenby]

Do you think they missed me?

Anonymous asked:

Hi! I love your tlb content! Could you do a poly lost boys x reader where they have to leave they’re siblings to turn into a vamp (they say goodbye to the in their sleep maybe left a note)

Decided to do a paul centered one but i think it reflects all of them, I hope you like it love <3

"I'm sorry Paul," David placed a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder, standing on his left as Marko held his hand on his right.

Paul had been stood in the same spot for almost an hour after he found what he was looking for, his soft blue eyes glittering in the moonlight as silver tears slipped down his cheeks.

The stone in front of him read words he never realised he would have to read, his own immortality overriding the memory of his family's lack of longevity.

'Here lies Johnathan Charles McAlister

Loving son, brother, father and friend.

May the sun shine on him again'

1882-1963

"I never even got to say goodbye- I mean, he didn't even know that I- I was-" Paul choked on his words, falling down to his knees as sobs wracked his body.

Marko fell beside him, wrapping his arms around him and pulling his brother's face to his chest, whispering soothing words in his ears and shooting David a look over his chest.

David nodded, sighing and crouching on his broken brother's other side, rubbing circles on his back. There was nothing they could do other than help him through it, help him through what they all went through at one point.

Grief was constant in the life of a vampire, it takes along time for those who know and love you to pass on. And it never gets easier.

-

"Paulie?"

The boy froze where he stood in the hallway, sack in one hand and his shoes in the other, eyes scrunched shut.

His brother was stood at the door to his left, eyes still half closed with sleep and his tiny hands rubbing them to try and wake up.

Paul crouched down, meeting his little brothers eyes, "hey Charlie, what you doin' up?"

He gently placed the bag on the floor, reaching for his brother while pulling his hands away from his face to stop his eyes from getting too irritiated.

"Come on little man, you should be asleep by now."

-

Paul couldn't remember what he told his brother.

Something along the lines of going for a short walk with some friends before walking him to his bed, tucking him in, and giving him a kiss on his forehead.

He had only seen his baby brother once or twice, at his wedding when he married Marie Babineaux.

Did his brother miss him?

Did he also wonder where Paul went after all these years?

Maybe he did.

He probably did. There were a couple of years between them but they were as thick as thieves. Paul taught him everything he knew, telling him how to get out of annoying dinners and any dumb little etiquette thing the elder learned.

His little Jo.

His little Charlie.

"You're thinking too much."

Dwayne had walked up behind him.

It wasn't uncommon to spend a high watching the stars, but tonight he was sober as can be.

"We're here for you y'know?"

He did know.

Paul knew he would never be alone as long as his friends were with him.

But this was different.

Most of them had lost family years ago. Even Dwayne's dear brother Jasper had been lost to them almost fifty years ago.

Dwayne knew his pain. Knew how his mind was going a mile a minute, how he was blaming himself.

The brunette threw an arm around his shoulder, bringing his brother close and pressing his chin to the crown of his skull.

"I'm here Paul, I'll always be here."

He would be. They all would be. Until their dying breaths.

[watermelonlipstick]

Distraction (Request)

This was a request for @sergeantsea​, who asked:

Hi angel!! I was wondering if you could write something with the reader slow dancing w Sam? Maybe they have to pretend to be together to do a mission? 

It was a total blast to write--SUCH a cute idea. I hope this is something like you were thinking.

Title: Distraction

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1673

Summary: A misstep during a case requires a distraction and some quick thinking. 

Warnings: canon-appropriate threat of violence, mention of alcohol, fluffy fluff fluff, a little teaspoon of smut-adjacent action 😜

           You tried to make the quick strides across the room look purposeful rather than frantic and resisted the urge to check over your shoulder for whether the pair had followed you across the bar. It had been stupid to try to eavesdrop without the pretense of another conversation to cover, and when the vampires had both looked up at the same time, you were sure you were done for.

           “Look alive,” you hissed, grabbing Sam’s hand and yanking him up from the cracked leather stool he was leaning on. He had to stretch against your grip to rest his pool cue on the wall, giving an apologetic smile to the denim-clad guys he and Dean had been playing. Didn’t matter much, Dean could hustle the two of them by himself anyway.

           “What’s going on?” Sam muttered, low and serious as he caught up, trailing just barely behind you so that the words played against the back of your neck, the delicate heat of them along your skin already easing some of the panic you had been feeling.

           “I might’ve just gotten us made—don’t look,” you said with a smile you hoped would look flirtatious to a bystander, turning to curl a hand around the back of his neck as a safeguard to prevent his inevitable impulse to check it out.

           “Uh, okay. What’s the plan?”

           “Just two regular people in a regular bar doing some regular dancing.”

           You could feel Sam’s neck tense under your palm.

           “You know, I’m really not so good at—”

           “Sorry, you’re going to have to pretend unless you’ve got a better option. Smile, please,” you said through the gritted teeth behind your put-on smile, and Sam gave a tight-lipped facsimile as the song shifted, Lionel Richie singing “know it sounds funny but I just can’t stand the pain,” smooth as silk even over the dive’s old speakers . You took Sam’s hand and set it on your hip before floating your free fingers behind his neck. He followed suit somewhat tentatively, holding you with big paws as carefully as if you were some antique Christmas ornament.

           “Can I look yet?” he smiled down at you, grin only partly exasperated. You moved a misplaced lock of hair back to the right side of his loose part and tried not to flush at the way he deliberately closed his eyes while you did.

           One of your hands traced down the collar of his flannel, resting on his lapel and closing a few more inches between your waists. “Sure. Stocky guy in blue and a blond guy with a goatee.”

           Sam checked back from where you’d come under the pretense of tucking you under his chin. When he spoke it was like stepping into a hot shower, soothing warmth flowing over the crown of your head. “They’re definitely watching. You sure it’s only those two? They’re sitting with a bigger table and no one’s talking.”

           “Fuck. How many?”

           “Uh, how fast do you think you can get to the car?”

           “That bad? Spin me, I wanna see.”

           He obliged, slipping his hand into your lax grip on his neck and guiding your hips around a small spin that was just enough for you to see the overflowing booth the two had slid into, at least 7 or 8 angry-looking probably-vamps with eyes trained on you and Sam.

           When you turned back toward him, an easy, cheeky grin spread over his face as Sam slid an arm to your lower back and interlaced the fingers of his other hand with yours. “I didn’t realize you were this much trouble. What’d you do, spit in their beer?”

           “Very funny. Are they buying this?” You rested your palm on his shoulder, feeling the ripple of the muscles as his fingers spread out over your back.

           Sam chuckled and you felt the vibration of his chest into your forearms, starting to feel like a competition cheerleader with the plastered-on smile. “Gimme a sec, I don’t want to look suspicious.” He started incrementally rotating the two of you and you knew it was tactical, so he could see both Dean and the booth. Didn’t really help you either way, field of vision pretty much entirely blocked by the broad span of Sam’s chest. Knowing that he was trying to better his position signaled to you to get ready, and you held a deep breath in an effort to calm your racing heartbeat. He leaned back a touch. “You okay?”

           “Yeah, sorry. Just such a fucking rookie move, I feel like an idiot.”

           “Don’t sweat it. If it’s a rookie move, I must be a rookie too. And usually the warning Dean gives me for shit like this is yelling for me 6 punches in.”

           You snickered a little into the flannel of his shirt despite yourself. “Thanks.”

           The two of you swayed together through a chorus. “Come on Dean, you idiot, look up,” Sam murmured to himself. Dean was lining up a shot he could hit backwards with his eyes closed like he needed laser precision, blissful ignorance allowing him to concentrate only on hustling the guys he was playing for a couple hundred bucks and not the imminent danger. A few people got up from the booth and began making their way across the bar. You could see them in your peripheral vision and knew even if Dean miraculously glanced up now and got with the program lightning-fast you’d be in trouble based on sheer numbers alone.

           “You trust me?” he asked fervently.

           “Yeah, of course I—” you stammered, immediately cut off by the plush crash of Sam’s lips into yours, the deepened pressure of his hand sealing your torsos together. After the briefest stunned moment you got the picture, kissing Sam back cautiously. You let him pull you closer, relaxed into his arms and dragged the hand you had on his shoulder down to gently hold onto his lapel, feeling a little dizzy even through the relative chasteness of the kiss. He disentangled his fingers from yours and slid them to your neck, the tiny chill of each of his wintry fingertips sending goosebumps down your spine as he cradled your head. Hands on his collar, you didn’t even think to stop yourself when you wrapped the flannel up, pure instinct driving your motion. Sam wound through the hair at the back of your neck and those instincts betrayed you again, nipping at his bottom lip on reflex and slipping your tongue into his mouth, somehow sweet over the cheap beer you’d all been drinking throughout the night—perfect—and Sam was much less nervous than you would’ve thought when he took a sharp inhale in surprise but didn’t back down, met your escalation as readily as he supported your weight against him.

           And then you were well and truly in it, Sam’s hand hitching up the back of your tee as he reached for a better grip on you, your grabbing at his shirt popping open a button so you could feel the impossible heat off his chest and get towed under by it like a current, like a magnetic field, and you couldn’t stop, needed more and more, mind a fuchsia cloud of want totally void of intelligent thought or awareness of your surroundings even as you had been so panicked minutes before.

           The spell was broken by a wolf whistle from one of Dean’s opponents, and you broke apart with a lascivious pop of suction. Inches from you, Sam’s eyes were half lidded and kissed stupid, the pink of his lips feathered out to match the flush in his cheeks. You glanced toward the pool table to find the almost-hustled men leering at you and Sam from where they stood next to Dean, whose face had landed exactly halfway between stunned and disbelieving.

           Addressing his brother, Sam cleared his throat and breathed, “We were just—” looking back toward where the crew had been closing in and finding nothing, the group now playing some rowdy game and crawling all over each other to stay in the booth, not paying any attention to you or Sam. “We were, uh, just—” he tried again, still at a loss for words.

           “Get a room,” Dean teased, play-nauseated, eyebrows twisted so far up on his forehead you were surprised they weren’t pushing his hair back.

           “No, it wasn’t—”

           “In front of God and everybody,” he continued, roguish twinkle overcoming the surprise in his eyes. You could feel the heat rising in your face and hastily stepped back from Sam, yanking your shirt down the few inches it had risen. Sam seemed not to notice his open buttons as he froze, still facing Dean. “By all means, don’t let us stop you.” He supported his weight on his pool cue, face as clear a challenge as anything.

           Sam ruffled the back of his hair sheepishly and took the ribbing with tightened lips. “Yeah, okay. Ha-ha.”

           “I’m going to, uh, grab another beer. Do you want one?” you asked Sam quietly, hoping Dean and the pool players might lose interest.

           “Sure, yeah. I—ah, I’m gonna—” he stuttered, face screwing up in a silent, bashful “help me?” smile while his shoulders bunched around his neck. You started to giggle, nerves finally catching up to you, and bit your lip to hold your smile together.

           “Go finish your game?”

           Sam chuckled and nodded, looking at his feet.

           You took a deep breath. “Um, thanks for saving me back there. I won’t make the same mistake again, I promise.”

           He flicked his gaze up, grin split open at the side to show a few teeth as he ran his tongue over his molars, framed by an impossibly sliced dimple. “I—ah, I wouldn’t mind if you made that mistake again.”

-

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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[muffindaddystyles]

Okay but vamp!harry x reader where the reader goes for a late night walk alone because she’s feeling anxious (Harry tries to insist on coming with but she says no) but soon he can sense somethings wrong and goes to look for her and finds her in a dangerous situation! I need protective vampire Harry 🥺

Disclaimer: Reader with ADHD, Vampire!H x fem!reader, cock warming.

Harry's been doing humanly things. Moreso trying for his little human whom he doesn't want to dissapoint when she's making ećlairs or pop tarts for him and all he knows is to eat them despite of being a helping hand. His fingers are magical —--- they relax her in the most livid way while he's feeding from her. Honestly, it's all she wants. Her making sweets for him and him pleasuring her in the most bizarre way.

But. Sometimes she get's emotionally exhausted that the physical activities looks like breaking a mountain for her and all she does is snuggle under the snoozy layers of her childhood blankets cuddling her cat to calm her down.

Now her tranquility is Harry.

It's one of those days. She's been feeling like a failure. An utter dimwit for not getting what's happening in her sociology class, why her neighbours are always grumpy with her and why she isn't able to study anything. It's depressing her.

Harry never left her side. She's like a honey gooed all over him not even letting him bring the pizzas he ordered for them, "Don't!" She squeaks in a weak voice catching his wrists and he sits back cupping the nape of her neck looking straight in her eyes to assure her with his whole existence, "'ey baby . . my sweet girl 'm not goin' anywhere. Delivery boy's been waiting outside -- just a mo', yeah?" He sponges a gentle kiss at her temple stroking her cheek to calm her down.

They've rented a VR receiver and alot of silver movies watching them while eating pizza. She giggles and Harry smiles goofily when he had to hit the receiver twice to make it work, "c'mon you should know how all of this work old man." He strides towards her pulling her up with armpits into his embrace and tickling hard.

"Old man huh!? Ol' ma —" He pretends to eat her whole and she squeals between her laughs, "'m sorry you're my man!" Huffs smugly giving her a breather and pecks her not twice but thrice. If he could kiss her all day. He would. She's his human. It surprises him sometimes when he's alone with his thoughts. He loves her to fucking bits and pieces.

When she's like this everyone and everything feels outta her reach. As if they're miles away from her and she's standing in barren cold. In the amidst of sappy movie she shrinks closer to him stuffing her face into his ribs wounding her leg around his abdomen and he makes her feel warm wrapping his arms around her to push her up on his thigh. Snapping his gaze down at her when the lil sniffs of her reached his ears, "What's wrong kitten . . . hurts to see ya like this baby. Love you so much." He never fails to promise that he loves her to core.

"'M jus . . . thinking tha –-- that when I'll die you'll be still here 'n . . . 'n y'would get so lonely." She hiccups without a break, "Dunno. Can't stop crying 'm sorry." She gives out an ugly sob into his chest. It's breaking his already feeble heart. God he could scream the affection to the moon he have for this girl. In such a tragic moment all she is thinking is about him.

He cups squishes both her cheeks with his calloused palms telling her to breath with slow gestures then when she's way better speaks in his softest voice, "My baby listen to me hmm? We're never thinking of future don't wan'ye to wreck ye'r beautiful brain for stupid deaths --- secondly too bad miss Y/N 'm gonna cling to ye like leech of your nightmares." He wipes her tears away ever so caringly and gives her eskimo kisses while she giggles snorting at the end when Harry brought his big goldfish orbs in the middle to make her laugh.

"'M glad to have you." She whispers smudging her wet lips softly against his's into a heart melting blood warming kiss and Harry shushes her when she whines clutching the hem of his sweater, "bite me? She asks politely rather than being batty as for she was being within past days rilling him upto extreme to get her neck and skin sprinkled with hickeys that turns into bites.

"Don't wanna hurt ye', lovie." He pushes her hair away peering down at her with pleading worried eyes, "you wouldn't. promise." He nods flushing her against his chest positioning her head into the crook of his neck. Making her hug him like a koala bear.

Rubs her back. Pats her hair. Sways her along him rather than the seductive warnings he used to give her. He's afraid. She's too fragile at the moment. He'd never forgive himself if something will happen to her, "'m gonna bite. Stop me if ye' don't want it o' hurts." He runs his palms at her sides making her all squirmy.

He pushes her fangs ever so gently to her sweet spot. If she's made of glass making her moan and tight her grip around him warming up his cock in his trousers. It's not always about you dumber. He scolds himself. Suckling lightly and pulling back in a pinch of moment. It's the first time he has almost pretended to drink from her. She's all sleepy in his hold. He carries her to bed and when tries to untangle himself so he could turn the telly off she whines not letting him.

Despite of these much blankets she's still feeling cold. From inside. It feels empty and she isn't liking it at all. Writhes and squirms causing Harry to ask, "ye okay there lovie'?" When she shakes her head with glassy eyes and a pout he understands.

"Cold." Is all she had to say and he's guessing the next, "in ye'r tummy?" When she bobs her head confirming he sighs softly pulling the elastic of his trousers down to free his dick getting rid of the item woving his calves with her, thighs between thighs and places a firm hand on her back moving his thumb into circles non-stop.

"Oh me lil dovlin' c'mere . . want me cock to warm ye up baby? 'S okay s' okay darlin'." He murmurs against her lips tugging at his foreskin hissing when the head of his thick cock gets pushed between their bellys due to approximty. Precome oozes from his strokes and he takes her panties off swiping his crown over her hole to lubricate her. Wounds his arm around the nape of her neck to lap at her mouth swallowing her whines and cries while sliding inside her compact walls twisting his stomach awfully, "shhh. shhh baby love. I got ya. Gonna take care of ye ---- try to sleep. I'll be waiting fo' ye in the morning." Once, situating himself deep and snug inside her. He keeps on embracing her like a little baby.

Next morning though she woke up happy. Harry made her brekkie. Special smiley pancakes with heart shaped eyes from the little strawberry toppings. He really took advantage of his time while she was snoring her ass off. A peach smoothie and cashewnuts. Fed Meowsie. Gave her his morning lovin'. They had the meal together.

He helped her learn some of her course. Then in afternoon made lunch together egg fried rice and stirred vegetables Y/N went to give some of it to their neighbours. Lady Nat asked her if she's okay cause she has stopped stomping in her flat and it made her feel good, weirdly.

//

Maybe it's seasonal sadness that she couldn't get out of it. Harry's in the kitchen cleaning up shelves when he hears the rustle of carpet. He peeks from the wall to find her pooling into a big hoodie and slipping into her shoes. He frowns throwing the rag away to walk towards her immediately, "where ye' goin' lovie? Ye' okay what happened?" He runs his hands over her shoulders to her hair making her meet his eyes.

She nods squeezing his wrists, "don't worry just wanna . . . take a walk — clear my head." Hearing this he quickly moves to wear his jacket.

"'M goin' with you." He declares and she knows if that'll happen she wouldn't be able to, "No. Alone." She fumbles with the strings of her hoodie. He sighs not fond of the idea brows knighting together thumbing at her jaw with concern screaming in his eyes.

"Can I mark you then?" He asks knowing what hides in the shadows of outside; creatures evil than his entire existence. He doesn't want to make her feel like she owes him explanations for her each and every movement but gosh does it scare him to his bones. She's the only person who could make him weak into knees and a mesh of puddle at the thought of even the thorn pricking her, "okie." She cranes her neck and it still amuses him she's exactly how she was when he first met her. That gentle rose under the moon meant for Harry to care and water with love.

After adorning her with a crimson mark and little peck he tugs her closer hooking his nose to her hair taking a good sniff of her cocoa scent, "keep your phone in ye' hand and don't walk through the cherry street." There's nothing there but stray dogs that she's afraid of. It's better he advises her.

"Ai. Ai captain!" She salutes him stomping her feet and he chuckles kissing her cheek wet-ly, "Go before I change me mind."

//

He wanted it not to creep it to his mind but it's not helping AT ALL. He's been restless and it's been fifteen minutes since she has left. He's sitting sunk into sofa with Meowsie snuggled under his chin while he shakes his knees, cracks his knuckles, combs his hair and groans into his palms. In short throwing tantrum like a toddler missing her already and constantly worrying about her. Something doesn't feel right at all. That gut wrenching horror of losing her biting him alive.

He mutters a fuck it going to look for her and bring her back home. He was right. He has always been. Good at instincts. For fuck's sake. He's a vampire!

Y/N was walking along the path which's the lead way to a park when a dark vibe gloomed over her head. The next she knows is she's being pinned to a wall with demonic eyes snatching at her soul: it takes her breath away outta horror.

"No wonder why Harry kisses the earth you walk on." He chuckles darkly accent an old Scottish and she gulps eyes stinging with tears, "I would to . . if I get to drink such sweet ripe blood." Her eyes widens when his fangs pokes out from his gums glistening under the lamp light.

She tries to kick him in balls to get rid of his painful grip when an angry growl echoes towards them loudly and the person who had her trapped wooshes from her sight in a bolt to ground making her shriek.

"She's not a fuckin' feeder stay the fuck away from her!!" Harry grits spitting venom. Choking the person under him, "tol' ya she's my girl and I'll shred everyone alive if they'll even breath in her direction." She has never seen him this furious. Tone harsh and snappy she never heard coming from him it makes her cry.

He had warned his fellows when the news of him spread that he has bonded to human. But well they've thick skulls.

The man under him just smirks pushing him away and coughing into his elbow standing up. "Whatever thought sharing is caring, Styles." Harry glares him resentfully. Fisting a punch at his side but stables himself when a dainty hand wraps around his fingers clutching tight.

He turns ducking down to her level cupping her cheeks and tries to examine her for any kind of injury, "ye' okay? Did he hurt you? Tell me and — " she rubs her nose with the sleeve of her hoodie shaking her head vigorously.

"No. 'M fine sorry should've listened to you." He puffs out a breath of guilt letting his forehead fall against her's, "don't be sorry -- it's none of ye'r fault baby."

"Glad you're safe." He whispers hugging her with the sway of bodies, "I love you." She tells him honestly tip-toeing to kiss him and it unfortunately reaches his silky jaw only.

"And all the things you do for me." He grins down at her. He lives on praises. The cheeky bastard.

"How about eatin' ice-cream while taking swings in the park?" He intertwines their hands warmly kissing her knuckles and she quips excitedly, "sounds great!"

.

AN: idk why read more button isn't working sorry for the bug.

[peridottea91]

Bad Days

Summary: Sam and Dean return from a hunt gone wrong. Sometimes it’s okay to let someone see you hurt. 

Pairing: Dean x Unnamed!female, Sam mentioned

Words: 1043

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of a hunt gone wrong

Beta’d by: n/a

Divider by: @firefly-in-darkness​ / @firefly-graphics​

A/N: This is my submission for @alleiradayne​‘s Supernatural Summer Shut-In Challenge; my prompt was “I wouldn’t want anyone else beside me. Even when things get hard, especially when things get hard, you’re the one I want in my corner.”

MAIN MASTERLIST - DEAN MASTERLIST

It had been a bad hunt.  They couldn’t save the people the vamps were holding hostage; too many had been either turned or drained of their blood right before the hunters got there.  The entire ride back to the bunker had been silent, both Sam and Dean feeling the weight of the lives that were lost.  As soon as Dean parked Baby in the garage, Sam grabbed his bags and locked himself away in his room for the night.  Dean stayed sitting in the driver’s seat for a few minutes, feeling the kind of numbness that only creeps in after a particularly rough hunt. Eventually, however, he stiffly climbed out of the car, grabbed his bag, and headed off to the library.

She had stayed behind this hunt-- sinus infection had made it too dangerous to risk her joining the boys this time.  However, she’d been feeling better as of late and was patiently awaiting the return of Sam and Dean.  She didn’t know how the hunt had gone, but the moment Dean stepped into the library, she could see it written all over his face.  Tired eyes, slouched shoulders, stiff movement, and furrowed brows said more than enough.

Dean dropped his bag on the table with a heavy thump and collapsed into a nearby chair.  He didn’t even greet her as he came in, simply sighing with the weight of guilt that had been drowning him.  She watched Dean for a moment, studying the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, his eyes closed, and head tipped back.  She knew nothing she could say would help, that guilt was a permanent resident between him and Sam, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

Quietly, she slipped from her chair and went over to the cart, preparing Dean a glass of whiskey that would be only the first of many he would have that evening.  She watched him sadly as she turned back to him at the table, her heart aching at the thought of the burdens he carried.  Sometimes, not everyone could be saved; that was a sad reality of the lives they led, as hunters.  That knowledge never seemed to make the losses easier, however.

Setting the tumbler on the table in front of Dean with a soft thump, she contemplated her next move.  Reaching out, she gently brushed her fingertips through the front of Dean's hair.  Immediately, Dean grabbed her wrist, opened his eyes, and stared at her.  There was something behind the green orbs she loved so much, a simultaneous withdrawal and plea for comfort.  There had always been something between the two hunters-- her and Dean had tap-danced around each other for years.  Lingering stares, the brush of fingertips, taking extra care when mending wounds, and late-night conversations always held the lingering promise of maybe something more, but neither hunter would act on it.  Dean saw himself as unlovable and a danger to anyone he ever cared for.  She, on the other hand, saw Dean as someone completely out of her league, the hero who deserved the world.

Cautiously, she reached forward again and continued to lightly stroke his hair away, Dean’s grip on her wrist loosening as he gave in to the tender action.  She could see his body slowly decompress from the hunt as she continued her ministrations.  Dean’s eyes had closed once more, and he ran his hand slowly up and down her arm.  Oh, how she wished she could free him of the burdens he carried, but Dean was, after all, a hunter, and a Winchester. The ghosts of hunts gone wrong would forever haunt him until the day he died.

“I know that nothing I say will make you feel better.  But when you’re ready, I’ll be here to listen to whatever you need to say.  Some days, the good days, we’re able to save everyone. But the bad days, we are too late, and it feels like their blood is on our hands,” she said softly as she continued to rake her fingers through Dean’s hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

Dean slowly opened his eyes, watching her as she lovingly looked down at him.  His eyes shone with the weight that comes with years of hunting and having grown up in the life.  It was a terrible responsibility to carry alone, and alone Dean did carry it, refusing to let Sam or anyone else see that other side of him-- his weak side.  Dean had to be strong for everyone around him, and her heart ached for the weary hunter.

“I want you to know,” she continued, using the back of her other hand to tenderly brush the side of Dean’s head, “that at the end of the day, no matter what gets thrown our way, I wouldn’t want anyone else beside me. Even when things get hard, especially when things get hard, you’re the one I want in my corner.”

Dean silently stared at her a moment, the cogs of his brain mulling over her declaration.  Pulling himself upright in the chair, Dean reached out and placed his hand on her hips.  Squeezing gently, he savored the soft feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips, using it to ground himself.  Dean pulled her slightly and guided her forward until she straddled his lap. Dean watched as he slowly ran his hands up to the curvature of her waist, saying nothing as he let the warmth of her skin soothe him.

She watched quietly as Dean touched her, her heartbeat thumping in her chest as they embarked on a new level of tender intimacy between them.  Eventually, Dean slid his hands around to her back and pulled her forward, burying his face into her chest and letting walls collapse.  She wrapped her arms around Dean’s head and held him.  The hair at the crown of his head was surprisingly soft against her cheek.  Dean tightened his grip on her and held on for dear life, silently pouring the burdens of the latest hunt into her.  No other words were spoken between them as they embraced each other, Dean breathing heavily into her skin, and she lovingly stroked his hair.

Sometimes, what we need most is someone to just hold onto.

[skarsgard-daydreams]

1900s Eric and Pam adventures right after shes turned? Maybe her baby vamp exploits and annoyed daddy Eric ? 🥰 (also I love you so much)

Ily too ❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Afterlife”

England, circa 1860

It was well past nightfall in the churchyard where a tall man in an long, dark overcoat kept watch. From the north side, he could see a clock tower in the distance, its face illuminated by moonlight as time kept droning on. The fresh dirt he had dug last night had yet to stir. His shoulders had become tense and there was a tightness in his chest that he hadn't felt in a century or more. He knelt on his hands and knees in the dirt and pressed his ear to the ground, listening for movement below, but he heard nothing. If he were human, his heart would be racing in his chest. Instead, he felt a pit of ice in the bottom of his stomach as the thought struck him senseless: perhaps he had lost her. Eric pushed up his sleeves and began to dig in the soft earth with his bare hands. He shoved huge handfuls aside and plunged his hands deeper and deeper into the grave until his nails dragged over cold flesh. A woman's hand suddenly reached out of the ground and latched onto his own. Eric thought he felt his dead heart leap in his chest. He grasped her wrist and pulled her out of the grave, into his arms. Pam gasped harshly, filling her lungs for the first time since death. She slumped against Eric's chest and tried to ignore the way the world seemed to spin. Her senses were on fire. The sound of the blades of grass twisting in the wind made her ear drums rattle and the oil lamps flickering in the streets seemed impossibly bright. Eric held her tightly, one hand cradling the crown of her head. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered. "I'm still here," Pam murmured. It was as much as expression of wonder as it was comfort, for a part of her had believed that everything he'd told her had been a beautiful lie. She lifted her head and framed Eric's face with her hands, smudging dirt on his cheek. His wide eyes were rimmed with crimson tears that she would pretend she hadn't seen. "I'm still here," she said in amazement. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his, suddenly overwhelmed by the flood of affection she felt toward him. "Eric, I..." she started to say, but she couldn't find the right words to convey how grateful she was for everything he'd done for her. Her voice was thick and her eyes began to blur red with unshed tears. "Hush, Pam," Eric said quietly, knowing that if she lost her composure he would soon follow. He brushed his lips against her cheek. "Let's get you cleaned up," he continued. "I have much to teach you."

[too-scared-to-do-this]

Of the Devil’s head

Chapter ten - Eyes full of clouds

Sander’s sides fanfiction

Wordcount: 2105

Ship: prinxiety  (It’s time, guys!)

TW: cursing, vague mentions of past abuse, scar description (just light), mentions of eating Humans, chasing, kind of degrading humanity at some point (related to the story) and that’s probably all. If I’ve missed any, just let me know :3 

Summary of the whole story: They say, the one that wears the crown rules all - the living, the dead, the walking, the crawling, the rooted, the sane and the mad. They say, once you own the crown, you become the  most powerful being on Earth and beyond. Roman’s stolen bigger things - a measly little crown won’t present a problem, even if he has to steel it straight off of the devils head!

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

Chapter ten - Eyes full of clouds

Well, let’s just say, Roman’s walk didn’t turn out the way he would have hoped for.

He somehow ended up accidently walking down a hallway full of three-headed vamp-dogs. Six pairs of eyes of at least ten creatures followed his every movement. Roman froze. A nervous laugh escaped his lips. “Good doggies…”

The dogs started barking monstrous barks and Roman went screaming the other way.

Throwing open a door blindly, he found himself in another room full of indescribably horrifying creatures with limbs of all sorts and twelve eyes too many. Well, the dogs were at least gone…

And then every single one of their eyes blinked in unison. There and then Roman decided that, yap, they all wanted him dead. And started running again.

Murmurs and terrifying whines left the many mouths as they reached out to grab the poor thief. Roman barely survived! (The idiot tripped and almost went face first to the ground.)

But he made it. Into yet another hallway of unspeakable horrors.

“This was not a good ideaaaaaaa!!!” he cried, throwing the dagger at the monsters chasing him.

It didn’t even reach the beings. Let alone the fact that it somehow flew at them sideways.

How could Roman screw up a simple walk this much?!

Screams and screeches filled his eyes as he barreled down hallway after hallway, door after door - somehow gathering an even bigger mob to be chased by.

“Where is that fucking guard when I need him!” Roman cried again, panting. “Devillll!!!”

This was supposed to be fun! And it wasn’t! It wasn’t fun at all!

Door became less and less frequent. Roman, even in his distressed state somewhat recognized the path he was walking.

He’s been here before!

And that means… there should be a door! Right abouttt…. here!

He turned towards cold stone. “Shit!”

Roman was ready to run again, but turns out the thing was just a couple steps to the left. “Yes!” he panted.

Grabbing onto its handle he threw it open and shut it as fast as possible. Back leaning against dark wood.

Angry voices were coming from outside the room. Roman really hoped they didn’t see him coming in here…

They were far enough, weren’t they?

Then everything fell quiet.

There were no more voices, no more stomping. No movement.

But Roman couldn’t be sure they left so he slowly pulled the door ajar and peeked out.

He came face to face with one of the deformed faces.

Roman slammed the door shut with a scream.

And that combination of noises was enough to scare Virgil out of his not-so-peaceful sleep. He bolted upright in his bed, eyes wide and heart racing. “What happened?!”

Scanning the whole room in the matter of nanoseconds, he went from crack in the wall to crack, from the closed bathroom door to every piece of furniture he owned. His stormy gaze finally settled on the distressed creature in his room.

The Human was shaking. Eyes wild and hair mussed all around, heaving. “They-They-They- THEY TRIED TO EAT ME!”

Slowly he backed away from the door, inching his way towards the bed.

Virgil sat speechless. It was too early for this… Roman was really dumb… None of the demons ate Humans. They are known to be very chewy meat - nobody wants that shit in their mouths. On top of it all they supposedly taste bitter.

The tired demon rubbed his eyes. “What do you mean, they tried to eat you?”

Roman turned with a flourish, meeting Virgil with his crazed gaze. “Exactly what I said! They tried to eat me!”

Virgil just lowered his eyes. This whole thing must have been a giant misunderstanding.  “Hey, liveling.” he yawned. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down?! Those monsters just tried to devour me!”

And while Virgil did see the Human throwing his arms around dramatically and did register the complete terror on his face, he was just too tired to deal with it.

He leaned forward, grabbing Roman’s hand firmly. The thief’s panicking came to an abrupt stop. Breath caught in his throat. What in all hell was happening?!

And yank! Ro found himself in bed next to the Devil.

The demon - now purposefully oblivious to the confusion on the liveling’s face - pulled the cowers over himself. Partially covering the sitting being as well. He buried himself deep into the warm embrace of the blanket, nose even deeper in the pillow and mumbled: “Nobody wants to eat you...”

Which came out more like: “Novovywanssthoeathue…” Or even more distorted.

Either way, Roman didn’t understand any of it.

With furrowed eyebrows, he prepared to ask the most intelligent question he could think of. “…what?”

Virgil grunted. He needed sleep! He’s been up for… well time doesn’t really exist here, so there’s no way to tell how long. But certainly longer then he usually was! And that is saying a something!

He huffed into the pillow, and groped around for Roman again (slapping him in the process). Grabbed his arm again and pulled him down. And now they were both laying.

Virgil didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t even lift his head. Instead, he lifted the sheets and let them fall onto the both of them. He snuggled in cozy, and finally let his body relax.  

That is, he would have done that, if it weren’t for those green eyes drilling holes into his head.

Roman was so taken aback, he couldn’t even thing straight. There he was, the cutest guy he has ever seen, laying so close to him.

And he still couldn’t get over the fact, that just a minute ago he was nearly devoured.

Blanket covered the Devil from head to toe. Literally not even a hair-strand was peeking out. Only the eyes and nose would be visible, if it weren’t for the pillow and the hand that covered them. Seriously! How could the dude even breath?! Did demons even need to breath? Come to think of it, does Hell even have oxygen?

It must have, otherwise Roman would have suffocated by now.

Bet Devil-guy here, could answer all those questions.

But he seemed so peaceful, laying there. Well… maybe not peaceful. But less king-like.

Roman sighed. Why must the biggest evil in the world be that charming? (Phha, he knew how wrong that statement was. The Devil wasn’t even evil. At least, not to him.)

So he laid there, watching the cocoon in front of him. Thinking about everything that’s been happening. And once again, he came back to the fact he was just chased down many hallways by a mob of angry creatures.

He shuddered.

Virgil couldn’t take it anymore. Any longer and he’d literally have a hole in his head. So he let out a deep tired sigh and turned slightly. Just so his words would be more intelligible. “Your safe with me… I won’t let anybody hurt you.”

It might have definitely been his drained brain talking. Virgil knew he will regret this when he wakes up. But, it was already said, there was no taking it back now. And he was drifting off anyways. There was no point obsessing over it.

Roman laid speechless. All his life he’s been taught not to trust anybody. Because everybody he ever trusted failed and hurt him. Yet he still was a very trusting guy… even though he knew it was naïve. And now, for the first time in his life, he felt the words ring true.

As he watched the sleeping demon, he couldn’t help but be baffled by humanities stupidity. They call this creature the vilest of all, yet they hurt and torture each other in ways unimaginable even to Hell. Their greediness and unseizing want caused people like him and his mother to suffer. To have to resort to steeling and causing even more wrong.  

They called the Devil evel, yet never bothered to look at their own reflections.

Maybe it was a mistake to believe a demon. Maybe it was the stupidest thing Roman has ever done. But so far, this creature’s words were the first that he truly felt he could trust.

He was safe.

-

Roman apparently fall asleep. Because when he woke up, he found a soundly sleeping demon on his chest.

Somehow, it didn’t faze him. (Well maybe there was a tint of red on his cheeks, but that’s beside the point!).

What did faze him though, was how the hair that usually covered half of his face was now hanging over the other eye. Revealing the secret, he’s been trying to keep.

The devil wasn’t kidding, when he said this wasn’t a Human skin. Five more eyes really didn’t belong in the general construct of a human body.

He would be surprised, but at this point, he didn’t think that was possible anymore.

This just kind of made sense. He was a demon after all - the Devil. It had to be shown somehow. He wondered why he didn’t find it weird from the beginning honestly - all the otherworldly creatures ruled by a human. But well, Roman really wasn’t known for his strong brains.

There was a scar running across three of them. Cutting from the middle of his cheek into his hairline, where it got lost. He wondered if it was a part of the look, or not. And if not - what happened to the guy?

“My father. He didn’t like me very much. Didn’t think I was worthy of the throne.“

Roman gulped. How long had he been up?

And, shit, was his voice hot after sleep! What the hell?!

Virgil moved around just slightly - because let’s be honest, no matter how embarrassing this situation was, it was too damn comfortable to break it up.

All six of his eyes fluttered open, looking straight at Ro.

Roman gasped quietly. “Nobody even questioned his motives. He was the Cruel king for a reason…” V shrugged.

The thief’s heart clenched. The three eyes, the scar ran over… were blind. How could anybody do that to someone? He was so angry at this supposed father!

Roman’s deadbeat of a father at least left when they were little, but this… Whoever was the Devils father, he was the one people called vile.

“It doesn’t hurt if you’re wondering.” V mumbled. He wasn’t sure what was running through the thief’s mind and that distressed him.  

For the first time in his life, he was truly scared. What if Roman was disgusted by him? Would think he’s weak for not standing up to his father? He has no clue who his father really was! What if he’d start fearing him again? Would he hate him now? He would deserve it… He is the embodiment of all evil, after all. His captor. The big scary Devil that would never let him leave. What if…

“Do you know you have storms in your eyes?” Roman smiled, lifting his hand up to brush the hair away from V’s eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

He was furious, yes. But right now, there was a Devil on his chest that seemed more vulnerable than he’d been in who knows how long. (Millenia maybe…)

And Roman was always good at talking up a shitstorm.

Virgil blinked up at him. Was he for real? Was this really happening?

He tried to say something, but words failed to leave his lips. So instead, he just shook his head. Because no. Nobody has ever said that to him. Nobody has looked him in the eyes for such a long time… Not since his dear mother.

“You have all these clouds in them, that swirl around creating shapes so mesmerizing I could watch them for years and never get bored. When you get all serious, they darken as if lightning would strike in them any moment. This one for example -“ Ro ran a gently thumb over Virgil’s cheekbone, under his one eye. “Has dark grey clouds. But this one -“ he pointed at one of the other ones. “Is green. And that’s purple. And these…” he traced the top part of the scar carefully. “…are the most beautiful white I’ve ever seen.”

Virgil didn’t even know he started crying until a tear slipped down his cheek and onto Romans shirt (well his, but who cares).

“You’re so dumb, you know that?” V mumbled, trying to cover up his sob-y voice and watery eyes.

Roman just chuckled softly. “I’ve been called worse.”

Yeah. He’ll kill that motherfucker that hurt his demon later. Right now, he’s got a vulnerable Devil to care for.

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

We’re nearing the end guys :3   And the fun’s just about to begin. BJ

Also, another part? Two days in a row? What’s happening! :D

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this :)

-

Tag list:

@romano-hottopic

@vpow

@a-formless-entity

@lovelivingmydreams

@alice-only-me

[miraculousstuffwotifound]

Faedrien: MariChat May, Prey

There was a girl in the river. Her long black hair glinted in the sun as she lounged in the water, the river lapping around a red spotted bikini top. Probably a tourist come to savour the regions legendary beaches. She was pretty, Chat Noir admitted to himself. For a mortal anyway. Not that it mattered. He let a hint of glamor wash over him, calming his eyes from luminescent green cat slits to warm green that human women found sooo irresistible, before teasing out an invisibly charm over his cat ears and tail.

He gave a lopsided smile. That would do.

At the end of the day a fae has got to eat... Bending, he reached down to a nearby feathery stem, and using his fae power, reached out to the life force within the plant. The feel of the forest washed blissfully though his veins, and with a sliver of energy he coaxed a sunny white blossom from the leaves. No harm in laying on the charm, after all, he had a good feeling about this girl.

The fae were unusual in their appetites; though they could quite happily live on the lifeforce of the forest around them, they were creatures of magic, and the energy for fae magic could only come from one source; confessions. When taken correctly, simple words could steal the slightest life energy from another. Right from the simplest personal information like names to the delicious displays of shame and drama, there was a veritable feast of flavours for the discerning fae, either willingly shared or charmed out at the hint of glamour. The bigger the secret, the more draining it would be to the prey. Alas it was difficult to get a naive human these days for the really big confessions, but Chat happily subsisted on little scraps of juicy gossip that he could wheedle out of tourists.

 He molded his features into the picture of unsure innocence, before slipping out of the deep shade of the forest.

“Hey there!” he called out, and the girl turned in the water with a small smile, “do you know where this path leads?” Chat feigned sheepishness, “I think I am kinda lost.”

The girl’s eyes raked swiftly over his body, before she smiled up at him.

“I don’t know” she replied, before biting her lip coyly, “Sorry. I walked up from the beach, and just thought the water looked inviting.” Her eyes were wide and blue, and Chat got the sense that she wanted him to stay and chat. Which was more than fine by him.

“Thanks anyway.” Chat leaned forward, holding out the flower, “here, have a chamomile flower for your troubles.”

She set aside the book she had been reading, smiling softly at him as she took the flower, completely entranced. Chat smirked internally. He had hardly had to use a glamour and she was already falling over herself.

“So what ya reading?”

“Twilight" the girl blushed demurely, and her confession spread the lightest glow of lifeforce through Chat’s limbs. How delicious.

“That is the one about vampires right?” Chat grinned. He had only met a few vamps in his time, but he knew enough to know they were nothing like the fiction he had read in the pre-teen books he had snagged from tourists. Luckily the only bloodsuckers you had to worry about this close to the sea were the mer.

“That’s right. It’s quite popular at the moment so I thought I would give it a try.” she smiled, stroking the spine of the book, “One could say I have a taste for the supernatural.” The poor girl didn’t know how right she was.

“Then I wish I was supernatural,” Chat gave a flirtatious grin, and the girl gave a tinkling laugh like falling water. Not one of his best pick-up lines for sure, but he appreciated the irony.

She was going to be a pushover; he could probably collect a few secrets in quick succession and be on his merry way before she even noticed how tired she was.

He plonked himself casually on the trunk of a fallen tree that bridged the river. As a forest creature he far preferred to stay in proximity of his plants, especially when they were so close to such a delicious conversationalist.

“So where are you visiting from?” the dark-haired girl asked, twisting a pigtail coyly.

“What made you think I was a tourist?” he shot back with a smile.

“There’s a lot of tourists about this time of year ya know? The beach is so busy, but I think I prefer a bit quieter, and only seeing the occasional person.” She gave a conspiratorial smile and leaned towards Chat, “Makes the meetings you do have all the more fortuitous.” Chat swallowed. Maybe he should dial back his glamour before he was the one getting seduced.

“Ah so you’re a local lass then?”

“I live nearby I guess” she answered cryptically. Even that hint of where she was from sent a surprising zing of lifeforce though him. So she was ashamed of where she was from? Interesting, but not uncommon. He decided not to pry; after all there were far better titbits to be had.

“All the better to meet you then,” he held out his hand, “My name is Adrien.” He gave his human name smoothly.

“Marinette” She shook his hand, and her fingers were as warm as the lifeforce that slipped out with her words. Names were always the tastiest of morsels. Chat gave a lupine grin.

“So, Maarinette,” Chat lazily stretched the vowels, “as a local lass, where would you recommend for a night out with, say, your boyfriend?” he tried to look abashed as he asked the question, as if he was a normal human boy asking an attractive girl a thinly veiled question about her relationship status.

She gave a sly grin, and he knew he had her in the bag.

“Boyfriends, I don’t know, but my friends often frequent the Ladybug Club.” her voice was lightly flirtatious.

He decided to push harder, letting a sliver more glamour into his words.

“Soooo, no boyfriend then?” he leaned down on his log, “I would have thought a girl like you could have any boy in the town.”

She chuckled,

“Everyone has their drawbacks. I am out of town far too much to have an established relationship…” she slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening. Chat’s own eyebrows shot up at the wave of life force that came with the innuendo of the statement. As always, love delivers juicy admissions, and this girl was a goldmine of secrets! It seemed that every sentence she spoke was loaded with ulterior meanings.

“That’s understandable,” he placated, letting a strong glamour ease her back into conversation.

“Urg, forget I said anything.” She pushed her hair back away from her face, embarrassed. A more dramatic response than expected, but one that Chat did not feel compelled to follow up on, even as a potential road to juicier secrets.

He cast around for a different topic.

Standing up, he snagged a couple of low hanging twigs of white cherry blossom, twisting them into a flower crown. He hoped he had not ruined his chances of further conversation.

“Cherry blossom, for beauty” he said aloud. And white cherry blossom for deception. The two were more similar than most humans would like to admit. This the fae boy knew.

“What are you some kind of botany boy?” Marinette said with a giggle as he dropped the flower crown onto her head, the pale blossoms stark against her midnight hair.

“I guess,” Chat grinned sheepishly, “I love forests like this.” Chat was aware of a dopy smile spreading across his face, “There is just a sense of magic about some places you know?” Marinette smiled gently in response. She did have a love of the supernatural after all.

“That’s…kinda cute.” her words had his head spinning more than the hint of life force that came with it.

Time to ramp up the charm and glamour to see if he could make a really big score.

Chat wetted his lips.

He plopped himself back on the log, leaning down.

"So you think I’m cute?" Chat let a little glamour seep into his voice.

Marinette sat up from the rocks she had been leaning against, and her eyes were so very blue as she crossed the little pool of water, the pale shadow of her bare legs moving under the surface. He waited with anticipation for her answer.

“Maybe just a little bit.” her voice was that of water whispering over rocks. She was so close, hanging on his every movement.

A stray part of his mind was wondering what it would be like to kiss her. He usually tried to avoid such feelings if he had glamoured someone, but there was just something irresistible about her, her humour, the way she laughed. He tried to get his head in gear, ask another question, but the only confession he wanted in that moment was;

"Wanna make out?"

Marinette's eyes were heavy lidded as she raised herself out of the water, pulling herself against Chat’s log. Chat didn't dare break eye contact as she leaned in to whisper in his ear, her hands tight around his shoulders as he waited for her reply. “Not. Quite.” Her hands bit into his shoulders as she yanked him off the log. Suddenly there was water everywhere. Chat’s glamour dropped as his claws scrabbled to keep a hold of the wood panicking as he felt sharp teeth pierce his neck.

Desperately he grabbed a branch, letting his power flow through it, coaxing a tree into existence in the middle of the pool. Abruptly the teeth in Chat’s neck were whipped away in a flurry of branches.  

There in the tree hung the girl, pale pink fishtail dangling in the branches as she wriggled, Chat’s cherry-red blood running down her chin.

 There was a moment of silence as Marinette and Chat stared at each other.

It was Chat who broke the silence, sheepishly raising a hand to scratch his newly reappeared cat ears

“Well you did say you had a taste for the supernatural.”

AN: Well tbh Adrien should have twigged something was up when a lone woman comfortably flirted with a man when there was no one around.

“stupid fae, and stupid glamours. I am going back to the freakin ocean”

“wait does this make you MERinette”

“shut up Faedrien.”

[boymeetsweevil]

and wrapped your arms around my neck - nsfw

Pairing: Reader x Seokjin

Word Count: ~2k

Summary:  Vamp!Jin if you squint and then close your eyes entirely, this is 90% just sex yall

Part of you wants to see his expression, to gauge whether he’s weirded out by your hyper-sensitive neck. The other part of you wants to stay still and be good with the hopes that he’ll keep playing with you until your toes are curling in ecstasy.

You settle for something in the middle instead.

“How long have you been thinking about doing this?”

Based off this ask:

A/N: I’m so so so sorry this has been in my askbox for so long! When I got this I was a week into pre-finals and I wrote it really quickly thinking I would read it over and then send it out before finals but... Im just sending this out today w/o edits... Anon, I hope you didn’t lose hope!! Here you go!

Today marks the 3rd week that you showed Jin the surgery scar on your neck. It had been bugging him ever since, but not in the way that you had worried about, which was why it took three weeks for you to slip up and show your neck to him in the first place.

No, Jin hadn’t really thought much of the scar until he realized after watching more attentively how sensitive it made your neck. Being one of the few tens of thousands of people left who are descendants from the original 7 blood-drinkers didn’t ever seem to affect him until now. All of the sudden he was obsessed with your neck and the scar. It would have made his father ashamed how cliche he was being. But he couldn’t help it.

The first time he realized he might have a problem, he wasn’t even sober. A little after you and he matched on Tinder, you and he had decided to introduce your friend groups and hang out at a bar. He remembers very hazily watching you and your friend Yuna chat up the bartender to finagle a free round of drinks for your table. 

From what he’s managed to gather, Yuna has always been the touchy type-- especially when she’s inebriated. So when she slung her arm over your shoulder and missed, her hand slid down to rest at the space between your bare shoulder blades.You bent over the counter to give the bartender the impression you cared about his story about the onion tattoo on his elbow while Yuna’s hand wriggled up to lay at the base of your neck. The squeal you’d let out was loud and shrill, making Jin’s eyes snap open a bit in confusion. You shrugged her hand off and moved to collect the drinks Yuna got and turned back to the table. Jin wanted to ask if you were okay, but Yoongi handed him beer, breaking his train of thought.

The second time had been the day of your 1month anniversary of being exclusive. 

Jin, being the hopeless romantic that he was, insisted that you make a day of it and go out to eat. You, being the broke master’s student that you are, said it had to be a place where you could potentially pick up the tab for the whole meal and not be set back. You compromised by eating at one of the cleaner outdoor tables at a nearby off-campus Wendy’s. He’d made a big deal about taking you out like it was going to be a surprise bistro. When you took off the blindfold he gave you and saw where you were, you’d attempted to put him in a headlock, but he was too tall and his shoulders were too broad for you to get the right grip.

After a hearty meal of chicken tenders and french fries, Jin shakily pulled a rather expensive necklace (real silver, because you told him your skin was sensitive once) out of his pocket. He’d tried to be extra and push your hair off your neck and put it on for you, but once his fingers accidentally skimmed your neck you shrieked just like you had at the bar and shot away from his grasp, banging the crown of your head against his chin. You blew him in the parking lot as an apology after you put the necklace on yourself to make up for injuring him, but his ego still hurt.

He’d tried asking you about it once. It went something like:

“How come you always do that?”

“Do what,” you’d asked. 

You wrinkled your nose at the smell of the smoke filling room. Yoongi’s parties were notorious and you were definitely grateful for the invitation but he needed a new dealer because his green smelled like shit. Jin reached a hand over to play with the loose hairs that didn’t fit in your ponytail and you unconsciously leaned away.

“That,” he tried again and you ducked again, “How come you always do that?”

“What are you talking about?”

You looked genuinely confused and that’s when Jin realized maybe he would need to approach things differently. 

Today he would do just that.

“Lie down for me. On your stomach.”

You blink owlishly at Jin’s request, you hands freezing in the middle of putting you hair in a bun to save your neck from the sticky summer heat. Jin, on the other hand, seems completely serious and completely comfortable with the situation as he gazes at you from the other end of the couch.

“W-what for?”

“I just want to try something,” he says. When you fail to budge he adds an imploring “Please?” You gape at him again. Jin hadn’t said please since date #2.

“If you stick your thumb in my ear again after you’ve licked it, I’m calling the police.”

“That was one time,” he gripes, “Besides, that’s not what I’m gonna do.”

He gets up from his spot on the couch to give you room to stretch out. The feeling of warm leather cushions on the skin of your arms and legs doesn’t exactly feel good as you lay across the couch. But you’re a sucker for Jin, despite the fact that he’s a brat 90% of the time.

“What are you gonna do,” your voice is muffled from speaking into the upholstery.

“I told you, I just want to try something. Just promise me you won’t scream,” he says, his tone dripping with smugness.

“Why the hell would I--”, you feel Jin gingerly grip the ends of your hair and move it to lay piled on the crown of your head, his fingers splayed across your scalp to hold the locks in place. “Jin?”

"Hmm?” He hums in response and you feel couch dip with the weight of him situating himself to straddle you.

He reaches out and lightly swipes a fingertip across the smooth scar tissue that travels across the nape of your neck. The resulting deep shiver you give brings a slow, dark smile to his face and he can’t help but chuckle. Fucking finally, he thinks.

Part of you wants to see his expression, to gauge whether he’s weirded out by your hyper-sensitive neck. The other part of you wants to stay still and be good with the hopes that he’ll keep playing with you until your toes are curling in ecstasy.

You settle for something in the middle instead. 

“How long have you been thinking about doing this?” 

He rewards you by blowing a small gust of cool air against the clammy skin. Its a nice break from the balmy air.

You’d had the scar for a while, and although you weren’t uncomfortable with it when you were by yourself, other people’s aversion to it influenced you to keep it covered by your hair or clothes most of the time. You thought that since you’d started dating Jin a few months ago he hadn’t managed to figure out what you’d been hiding. Apparently not.

“Wendy’s,” he says, leaving you with not even enough time to let out a ‘what the fuck’ before he invades your space.

He leans down until he’s close enough to inhale the scent of your skin. It smells of clean sweat, lotion, and soap. If you asked him how he felt about the smell on any other person, he’d probably say that he didn’t have any feelings about it. But with you and your neck...its delectable. And he has the sudden urge to use his teeth. Perhaps its the 3% blood-drinker in him, he muses. He probably just has a neck fetish, though.

The plush feeling of the tip of Jin’s nose running along your neck while he settles comfortably on top of you is almost relaxing. Its not enough, though and it leaves you feeling restless enough to wiggle impatiently. He responds by pinning you more firmly to the sofa. His free hand is large and too warm as it wanders up the side of your torso and pulls down the collar of your t-shirt to make more of a landing strip for him. Soon after, his tongue licks a stripe up the skin he just exposed, stopping just below your hairline before going back down to the scar and laving neatly at it.

“Oh my god, Jin.” you whisper. Your voice is small, like being trapped in your throat with all the little gasps he’s wrung out of you so far was enough to call it quits entirely.

“Too much?” He selfishly hopes you say no.

“No, just keep--shit.” 

With your permission, he begins to grind against the thigh he’s laying over. He times each swipe of his tongue to the rhythm of each hip swivel. Each choked off gasp you emit eggs him on further until he nips roughly at the skin without thinking. You gasp at a pitch different from before and he shifts to give you a little more space.

“Sorry, is this okay?”

“Jin, please, its fine. Please. Just-just touch me, okay?”

“Yeah. Fuck yeah.”

He renews his efforts, but this time remembers to wriggle a hand between you and the couch cushions so he can stick his hand up your shirt. He tries to pinch your nipple like he knows you like, but the angle is awkward. It must still work though because soon you’re also snaking your hand down to rub yourself through your underwear. It makes him throb in his pants and suddenly he wishes he had taken his pants off before trying this, but he’s in too deep now. Every time he humps down against the flesh of your thigh you arch upwards into him and press against his length. The constant friction is just on the right side of painful and he’s so certain he’ll come any minute. With that thought he abandons the tight grip he’d developed in your hair and uses both hands to roll and pluck at your nipples. You adjust the angle of your wrist, though its tricky, so you can grind your clit against your palm and crook your fingers deeper against your walls. Everything is wet and sticky and it should be uncomfortable but its not and then Jin moans, high but quiet, in your ear and the pressure in your core seems to snap. You shake as your orgasm overtakes you and sob into a throw pillow as your toes tingle with warmth.

Jin clumsily turns you over, all the while mumbling ‘I want to see your face’. Once you’re on your back, he settles back over you, instantly latching back onto your neck. This time he opts for sucking slow, wet kisses onto the column of your throat until they turn to hickies. Meanwhile his hand finds purchase on the curve of your hip and uses it to yank you as close as possible while he rides on the meat of your thigh. You rake a hand through his sweaty hair and murmur filthy things into his ear until he comes with a shiver into the crook of your neck. 

You both spend a few minutes just breathing shakily on the now disgusting pleather sofa. The popcorn ceiling really needs to be redone at some point, you realize. After what seems like forever Jin removes himself from your neck and sits up on one elbow to look at you. His hair resembles a cockatoo’s feathers and you have to look away before you laugh in his face. 

“What’s funny,” he grins down at you, “I want to laugh too.”

“Go look in a mirror, then. Your hair is a mess.”

“I would say the same to you but actually now I don’t think should.”

“What does that mean?” You shuffle out from under him and head to the bathroom. 

“Baby, wait. Don’t!” He tries to run after you but the awful feeling of underwear sticky with sweat and drying cum made him slow to a waddle. He hears a gasp as you see your reflection in the bathroom mirror. He winces but still comes over.

“Kim Seokjin, what is wrong with you? Look at this, you did this to me!”

He nods bashfully without looking. He doesn’t need to. He knows what the giant dark bruises already blooming on your neck look like. 

“If its any consolation, you have a beautiful neck and I think you should stop hiding it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fair enough.”