#something freaky...

[slowd1ving]

[INAMORATA] SNIPPET . *࿐ SUNDAY, MOZE, SOMEWHAT JIAOQIU??

more jiaoqiu and moze being a little creep, male incubus reader

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Of course you don’t end up stealing a kiss outside the building—Moze taking the opportunity to clean the bathroom obsessively while buzzing from the liquor, while you walk Jiaoqiu out. 

Of course you don’t mean to, but you’re drunkenly complaining of the professor for your statistics module, and he’s merely gazing. When the sun’s long gone to its slumber—and the only light available is the halo around your head from the flickering streetlamp—who can blame him for the way his eyes drink your pout in, the way he’s getting lost in the way you smell? Menthol cigarettes and something sweeter, something his nose picks up that could be caramel but could also thrum deep in your veins to intoxicate others. 

He cuts you off when it gets too much for him, right when you push your glasses up to continue to ramble comfortably. 

“—every lecture, I swear—mmph—” 

You swear up-and-down you weren’t planning this; you’re taken completely aback as he surges, pressing you up against the rough brick of the building. He’s warm, you think deliriously—with his hand cradling your cheek and his other nestled in the back of the loose pullover you’re wearing, you’re warmer than you’ve been in weeks. 

It’s not desperate, but you can feel the build-up of emotion behind it: taste the cherry on your breath, the tequila on his. Alcohol may have prompted this, but even a fool could savour the heavy yearning on his tongue. 

“Jiaoqiu,” you mumble, but he merely tilts your head, nipping at your slicked lips with an eagerness he only seems to display when it’s the witching hours. He’s shorter than you, yet tonight he’s the one caging you in an inescapable lock—so hungry, so avaricious and naturally, you oblige, raking your hands in his pink hair. 

You taste blood. You taste life as you feel his steady pulse against your body, lust as he groans and melts into your touch, desperation as he entwines his arms around you with the sole goal of pressing himself into you even further. 

You are equally insatiable, gradually feeling the vivid colours flow from his tongue onto your own. 

You are equally gluttonous, but your work isn’t going to finish itself and you’re quite a good demon, if you do say so yourself. 

You are equally voracious, and perhaps completely degenerate, yet still you wistfully and regretfully ease your lips from his—though your hands remain white-hot on his body. 

It’s enough energy to get through the rest of this day and then some. It’ll do. It has to do. 

“I’ll see you at the Film Festival,” he murmurs, but the two of you know the encounter between you both will be sooner—a clandestine encounter between sheets, in fact. 

He’s walking home, so you watch him disappear into the night—and when his small figure is swallowed up in the void space between street lamps, you watch a little while longer. 

Unbeknownst to you, someone else has been watching this entire time too. 

[gaybuckybarnesss]

MICKEY 17 (2025) Dir. Bong Joon Ho

[chloesimaginationthings]

"They call it the MANGLE" - FNAF 2 phone guy

[heathersapples]

bonus (average dom/sub activities):

[honey-bird10]

idk about yall but i have been seeing LOTS of yurified hjyj propaganda and im going insane

[mightytato]

[cartoonguy08]

I wanna finally get around to the Speeding Bullet stuff I promised to make guys, IM BACK (and doing better 👍)

The tiniest thing I have in the moment is this because I found it funny how many fics I looked at that had this lmao

It’s really….interesting

Like my guilty pleasure is that I do read and enjoy them (shame on me) but also GUYS, why’s he always so somewhat creepy?? 😭 like not creepy creepy but do you catch my drift? Don’t get me wrong I love it but I think Scout needs Law and Order with some of these fics 💀 Y’ALL ARE WILD

[whateveriwant]

I love the headcanon that Simon has had his nose broken multiple times, but I like to take it one step further and imagine: what if Simon’s nose has been broken so many times that it’s permanently affected his sense of smell?

That would explain why the big bastard is so grumpy all the time, right? I mean, wouldn’t you be if you lost one (and more than likely, two) of your five primary senses?

Like, just imagine what it would be like to lose both your sense of smell and taste (because the two are strongly intertwined). It would be like living every day of your life as if you have a bad head cold. It would make eating – something you have to do to survive – a chore instead of something to be enjoyed.

And I know what you’re thinking. No, I’m not about to insert a “British food is bland anyway so it’s not like he’s missing much” joke here. That would be in poor taste (just like their food, hey-oh!)

Okok no but seriously. Imagine what losing those two major senses would do to a person mentally. Knowing Simon, he would probably pretend like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t matter that everything smells and tastes like the color gray to him, even though secretly that couldn’t be further from the truth.

So imagine if that didn’t have to be the case any longer. Imagine if there was something – say, nasal surgery – that could restore those abilities he almost forgot he had once upon a time. (I’m not a doctor so I don’t know if surgery would work, but let’s just run with it, ok?)

For starters, I don’t think he’d be the one to initially seek out a treatment. The idea would have to come from an outside source (like from you, his loving partner) and it would take a lot of convincing to get him to go under the knife.

But say that you are able to convince him to have the surgery; that you get him to agree to have his bones rebroken and properly set this time, to have his olfactory nerves reattached to the places they’d been severed from. What would it be like to sit beside him as he wakes up and takes that first, deep inhale? What would it be like to witness him experience the power of smelling again for the first time in what feels like forever?

Would he be overwhelmed? Underwhelmed? Something that’s impossible for him to put into precise words?

And what would be the first smell that sticks out to him? The medicinal air of his hospital room? The clean aroma of his bed linens? The coppery tang of his own blood congealing around his sutures?

Realistically, I don’t think it would be until he goes home that any real change is apparent to you. It’s once he has the freedom to do whatever he wants, like a former shelter dog getting to explore the world for the first time, that you’d notice the drastic switch in him.

All of a sudden, Simon would be super adventurous when it comes to trying new foods. In the past, he just shoveled down whatever tasteless slop would keep his body fueled. But now, he’d find the fun in trying all sorts of different cuisines, ordering entire menus at a time to discover what he does and doesn’t like to eat.

I also think he would start experimenting with ways to perfume himself. Yes, he used soap and deodorant even when he had no sense of smell (for others’ sake, truly). But now, he’d go beyond those basic items, wandering into scented shampoos, specialty aftershaves, even dabbling with cologne.

Of course, things wouldn’t be all peachy 100% of the time, as I feel like he would soon get very picky about the kinds of scents he could tolerate in your home. The kind of fabric softener you use in the laundry, the kind of hand soap you have in the bathroom, the kind of leftovers you can and absolutely cannot reheat in the microwave the next day, just to name a few.

But through it all – the good and the bad, the bold and the nuanced – Simon finds there’s one scent in particular that eclipses anything else he’s encountered: You.

And I’m not talking about the products you use in your hair or the fragrances you like to wear on a night out. I’m talking about the raw, natural, pheromonal scent of you.

It’s like a drug to Simon, that warm, pleasurable smell that clings to your skin. There’s something about it that brings him an abundance of comfort, and he finds that after he’s had a long day, he wants nothing more than to come home and bury his face in your neck as he cuddles you to sleep.

Call it what you want. Biology, psychology, psychopathy, or so on. Simon doesn’t know what it is about your scent that’s so irresistible to him, nor does he really care. All he knows is that for a long time, something was missing from his life beyond just his ability to smell. And now that he’s realized what it is, he can’t believe he ever lived without it:

His reason to breathe.

[dixoterin]

💝💝

[queerweirdness]

On my freaky close friends stobin shit

Robin was well aware her and Steve were closer than most friends, scarily so. They showered together when they were at her house due to her family not having a huge hot water tank like his. They slept in the same bed no matter whose house they were at, despite the fact they both slept naked due to overheating in their sleep. They had seen each other naked more times then they could count. They frequently went skinny dipping in his pool late at night. 

They were practically one person living in two separate bodies. They knew everything about each other. That included all the details of the other's sex life. They have had many conversations about what they prefer in bed, and Robin had a very vivid mental image of what Eddie Munson looked like naked, all the way down to the dick piercing, although she had never seen it firsthand. It didn't matter that Steve liked boobies. He didn't like hers.

So when she was sitting at home minding her business and got a snap from Steve along with the instruction to not open it in front of other people, she wasn't too concerned. 

Steeb: don't open that around other people

Bobin: what am i about to open??

Steeb: i just need to make sure it doesn't look weird before i send it to Eddie

Bobin: i think all dicks look weird babe. But ill look to make sure it doesn't look weidER than normal.

Steeb: hwo did you know it was a dick pic

how*

Bobin: what else would you send to eddie that im not allowed to open around other people?

Steeb: fair point

Bobin: lower the camera a little. Your dick looks short

Steeb: Thanks robbie. Ur the best

Bobin: you know we are the weirdest friends ever right? You just sent a lesbian your dick pic

Steeb: you had me grab ur boob the other day because you thought you had a lump

Bobin: i was CONCERNED

Steeb: ill text you later. eddie is calling

Bobin: take my stuffed animal off your bed. Sir franklin shouldnt witness such behavior

Steeb: on it. Love you bobbie!!

Bobin: love you stevie

[slowd1ving]

[INAMORATA] SNIPPET . *࿐ SUNDAY, MOZE, SOMEWHAT JIAOQIU??

for some additional context reader is an incubus and also joined a class on catching/apprehending monsters in the modern world as a joke, but now is doing a project on said monsters (cough, incubi) thus is in a really fucking awkward position rn anyways this will probably be the last snippet before I actually post the work so enjoyy

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

“…edit it documentary style. It’s professional, organised, and will suit the Professor’s tastes.” Sunday’s mellifluous voice washes over you as you sit in the campus library with your classmates, desperately trying to look engaged. 

It does not work. 

Sunday’s fountain pen wavers in the air and turns on you, and your heart jolts and skips past a few beats—it looks far too close to a weapon for your liking, and you would not trust an angel with a dagger for the life of you. Or without the dagger. He does not inch it closer, but it’s rather an unconscious mirroring of his thinking that betrays that he’s about to scold you for falling asleep. You’re thankful for the table that separates the two of you, but you fear wood can only do so much to counter flames of divine punishment. 

But before he can lecture you, Moze beats him to it. And for the record, you don’t know how he ended up sitting right next to you, and you’d like to complain. 

Leaning across his chair, he gets unnecessarily close to talk to you, and it’s not like whatever he’s saying is important. 

“Do you have anything to add—” and here his leg ghosts up against yours, but you don’t flinch. At least, you don’t think you do. “—or did you not get enough sleep last night?”

His voice is low—enough that there’s an undercurrent of tension without him even trying. You choose not to reply directly to him; instead, you look at Sunday once more, and you swear you feel a spike of irritation from the angel. But, surely not, right?

Mulling your words over, you carefully select a sequence that won’t land you a one-way ticket back to hell. There’s a certain trick to this, you see—and that’s crossing your fingers and thinking of an escape plan in the event you fail, or the shameless cowardly demon approach. It may not land you a spot among the Lieutenants, but it sure is better than being skewered by some angel. 

Especially one named Sunday. You disguise your grimace. 

“Uhh,” you wrack your brains, before settling on the first thing your mind falls upon—yesterday night, all cozied up with Jiaoqiu. Fuck. “A horror movie.”

You can feel Moze’s stare burn into dermis, sizzle a bit, then singe your very bones.

“That’s an— unconventional idea,” Sunday coughs, and you remind yourself that angels are way meaner than you’d expect. 

“If you think it’s ill-founded, then I would like to remind you our professor’s maturity doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll enjoy an orthodox style,” you argue, suddenly remembering that angels are also ill-suited for debates and ‘gotchas’, and also that incubi can honey their tongue to saccharine degree.

Fuck. You’ve really spent too much time in the human realm. 

Before Sunday can get a word in, you keep talking, desperate to look enthusiastic to discuss incubi and possibly give yourself away. “If it’s being entered into the Film Festival, a mockumentary or a horror film could be both informative and entertaining. Or even a silent film.”

“It’s succubi and incubi,” Moze mutters. “If there were more people I’d bet there’d be one group submitting porn.”

You stifle a cough, but you don’t think you did it well. 

“What, with Hopkins as the intended audience?” you glance at him, and see the traces of laughter on his mouth, and suddenly your own feels somewhat dry. Just a little. 

“Yeah, imagine,” he matches your airy tone—and the proximity forces your heart to lapse. Just a little. 

Sunday’s glare bores into both of you. “Can the two of you take this seriously? We are absolutely not doing that.”

If you ever forgot he was an angel, this is a poignant reminder. Should you squint, you think you can see a faint halo around his head, but that could also honestly just be the library light causing the incandescence. 

“Yes, which is why we should do horror or a mockumentary,” you interrupt. This is the only fight you’d ever attempt with an angel, and boy do you deserve a medal for it like the humans do. “The topic isn’t particularly… uh… safe for work, so horror would convey the right message that we investigate in each class, while still having space for detail. Think something like found footage horror films or something.”

“You raise a good point,” Sunday deliberates—if there was anything good to say about angels, it would be that they are gracious with their concessions. Some concessions. “Fine.”

Fine. 

Fine.

Fine. 

With glee, you save the moment to brag about when you next visit downstairs. I got an angel to agree with me. 

But simultaneously, you compose your face, knowing the next item on the agenda will inevitably be the very topic of the proposal. 

Suddenly, you no longer feel the glee of just a minute ago. 

Oh shit. 

[anto-pops]

Bloody Hell - Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: One would think that after putting up with menstruation for so many years, you would be well accustomed to dealing with it by now. That couldn't be further from the truth, however: you hated it. So when yours arrives in the dead of night and forces you to the showers in the hopes of relieving your discomfort, the last thing you expected or wanted was for your boyfriend to barge in unannounced.

Alternatively summarized as Sebastian finds you covered in blood after waking up without you beside him and suggests a natural remedy for your pain.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, menstrual cycle, blood (kink?), explicit sexual content, explicit language, shower sex, period sex

It's also up on Ao3

To the anon who suggested this: you're an absolute icon. Never before have I been so captivated by a request. This haunted me all night.

You were no stranger to blood. Fighting Ashwinders and Poachers in the Forbidden Forest went hand in hand with bleeding wounds, scrapes, and bruises. But those things were a non-issue for you. A few vials of Wiggenweld or those poultice’s Nurse Blainey was so fond of handing out typically took care of external wounds with no problem. 

But once a month, you were met with blood of a different sort. 

The menstrual kind. 

Which is why when you awoke in the Room of Requirement with a familiar sensation afflicting your lower stomach, you knew right away what was happening. The weight of Sebastian’s arm slung over your waist couldn’t distract you from the cramping sensation in your gut. It felt like your organs were being twisted– contorted into shapes and squeezed so tightly that a pained groan bubbled in your throat. You stole a glance at the man next to you, paranoid that somehow he would telepathically know what was going on. He was still sleeping, though, and you sent a silent prayer up to the heavens that he would stay that way. 

Escaping his embrace was a task in and of itself. There was no such thing as personal space when you and Sebastian spent the night together. You had convinced yourself a long time ago that he would crawl inside your skin at night if he could, but you were immensely grateful that such a thing was impossible. The thought of him being made aware of your completely normal ‘time of the month’ made you shudder with revulsion. 

Yes, it was a completely normal part of female biology… but it wasn’t something that any woman just went and talked about. At least, not any self-respecting woman. A lady’s cycle was for her and her alone to deal with. 

In the process of crawling across the bed, you felt a telling slickness between your legs that had nothing to do with your previous nighttime activities with Sebastian. You knew the second you pulled your undergarments down, you would be met with the sight of your ruddy, ruined clothing, and that thought coupled with the discomfort threatening to bring you to your knees was enough to cause tears to well up in your eyes. 

Dammit! It wasn’t like you could control that either. You were a moody, gross mess. If there was a choice between going comatose for a week or living through this ungodly experience once a month, you would gladly choose the former. Death was preferable to bleeding all over yourself and dealing with sore breasts, cramps, and emotional outbursts. 

There was no way in hell you could handle all of this here. The menstrual pads and linen rags you kept handy for these times were at the bottom of your trunk in your dorm, and you’d foolishly left your wand on your nightstand as well. Sleeping in the Room of Requirement had been a last minute decision, and without your wand, there was no way to Charm over the things you needed. The inky night sky visible through the windows told you that it was the middle of the night, which meant that traversing the corridors to fetch your belongings was out of the question. The last thing you wanted was for a resident ghost or a Prefect to catch you and question you about what you were doing out past curfew. 

The Prefect’s bathroom was nearby, though. That would have to suffice. You would go there, clean up, and then figure out how the hell to deal with this… situation. 

As you shuffled out of the tiny bedroom and through the main chamber of the Room, another wave of pain stabbed at your gut and made you hiss through your teeth. If you didn’t collapse on your way down the staircase, it would be a Merlin-sent miracle. 

—

The warm stream of water cascading down your head had helped to clear away the pain-induced haze that clouded your mind. That was the extent of the reprieve you were granted, however. Everything else still hurt– had begun to hurt more the second you’d reached the bathroom. The cramps, your back, your breasts– even your fucking feet. Why did being a woman have to be such a punishing experience? 

Wiping at your face with your damp palms, you pointlessly wished that this could have happened at any other time. Late in the evening yesterday when you had been in your dorm, or earlier in the morning today so you could have made it back to your room in time to get your linens. Not now. Not in the dead of night– not the one time students were expressly forbidden from wandering the halls. 

The universe hated you. You hated yourself. Even standing beneath the shower head, you felt dirty. No amount of scrubbing would change the fact that your pajamas were soiled. You would have no choice but to put them back on and hope against all odds that no one was awake early to spot the giant stain blooming across the back of your trousers. 

Between the rush of water roaring past your ears and your own self-deprecating thoughts, you failed to hear the footsteps echoing throughout the bathroom until they halted right beyond the curtain. One singular, thin sheet mounted to a metal rod by tiny hooks was all that separated your naked, bleeding body from the unknown person, and your heart stumbled in your chest at the vulnerable realization. 

“I take it you have a good reason for up and vanishing in the dead of night to come shower?” 

Shit. Sebastian. Peeves rising through the floor to taunt you would have been preferable to this. “Don’t come in. I– I had to cool off. I couldn’t sleep– just go back to the Room, I’ll be there soon.” 

Liar. If you could somehow get away with spending the rest of the night in the Prefect’s bathroom, you would gladly do so. That was a much better idea. 

“Cool off?” Sebastian scoffed, and your throat tightened uncomfortably when you saw his fingers appear around the edge of the curtain as though to yank the barrier aside. “There’s enough steam in here to gag a Dugbog. What’s wrong, darling? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine! Just go back to bed, Sebastian. Please.” 

He was quiet for a moment– long enough that you were certain he had caught the shrill edge to your voice. You sounded anything but fine. But then his fingers fell away from the edge of the curtain, disappearing behind the makeshift blockade completely. Any second now and his footsteps would resonate throughout the room and give you confirmation that he was leaving– that you could continue to ride out the waves of pain and humiliation in solitude. 

But the sound of him leaving never came. 

Instead, you were deafened by metal scraping against metal as Sebastian yanked the curtain aside, his disheveled form staring back at your nude one as you screeched and tried to cover yourself with your hands. “Sebastian! What the hell?! I said leave!” 

His eyes raked down your body, starting from the top of your head, then along the plane of your torso, before finally settling on your red-stained thighs. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“I beg your pardon? Since when is it acceptable for a man to barge in on a woman in the shower? You’re unbelievable!” 

His dark, penetrating gaze returned to your panic-stricken face, his brows furrowing in response to your rightful anger. “It’s acceptable since I’m your boyfriend, for starters. This isn’t anything I haven’t already become intimately acquainted with, darling. Second, I was giving you a chance to be honest with me, but since that’s apparently not going to happen, I need to take matters into my own hands.” 

“What are you on about? I was being honest. I couldn’t sleep! Not everyone is blessed with the ability to pass out after laying down for two minutes.” 

“Ah, but you’re only being partially honest, sweetheart. Were you ever going to come clean about the blood on the bed? Or the blood on your trousers? Was I meant to overlook that little omitted detail?” 

Mortification stronger than anything you’d ever felt made you go rigid. Suddenly the blistering water coursing down your back felt decidedly cold, and your cramps were momentarily forgotten as your stomach churned with nausea. “I– well– that isn’t your business. It will never be your business. So just let me deal with it by myself and go. Back. To bed.” 

Sebastian’s jaw hardened as he clenched his molars together, his eyes narrowing challengingly in a way you were all too familiar with. You were well aware of his stubbornness– sometimes you even admired it. His tenacity and ability to get what he wanted was something of a super power to you, but right now it was a downright nuisance. This wasn’t the time nor the place for him to try to bully you into confiding in him. You were naked in a shower, for Merlin’s sake.

Was nothing sacred anymore? 

Instead of arguing with you further, Sebastian nodded once to himself before releasing the curtain. His hands fell to the hem of his sleep shirt, hauling it over his head in one swift motion that revealed all of his tanned, freckled skin at once. If you weren’t so bewildered and agitated, you would gladly take a moment to relish in the sight. But then he moved on to his own pajama pants, hastily kicking those away to leave him as nude as you were, and your brows disappeared into your hairline. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m not going back to bed without you. If that can’t happen, then I’ll join you in here.”

He tried to step over the tile ledge, but the hand you’d kept over your breasts shot out at that moment to slap against his chest. Sebastian frowned, actually mustering up the audacity to glare at you for trying to protect your dignity. “Y-You can’t. It’s not clean in here.” 

“It’s a shower. Logic dictates that it’s as clean a space as they come. Now move over–” 

“Sebastian, I’m bleeding.” The word left you in a breathless rush, shame and insecurity softening your previously stern tone. He didn’t show any reaction to the confession, though. He just remained rooted to his spot by the curtain with his head tilted to the side. “I’m dirty. It’s on the tiles– you can’t come in here.” 

Sebastian reached up to clasp the hand you had planted to his chest tenderly, his thumb stroking over the back of your knuckles. His eyes glimmered with something curious as they roved down your body again, and then he asked, “Why on Godric’s green Earth do you think you’re dirty?” 

You swallowed, entirely too embarrassed for comfort. It was bad enough to have to go through this whole ordeal, but to describe it… 

“Because it’s blood. It’s gross,” you explained weakly. With any luck, that would be enough to quell the inappropriate conversation and get the man to scurry back to the Room of Requirement. 

But Sebastian only looked amused. He smirked in a way that conveyed both disbelief and reassurance before laughing quietly, gently prying your hand away from his chest so he could bring it to his lips. “Darling, we see blood all the time. Our extracurriculars are hardly the safest. Between Crossed Wands, the Highlands, and your Herbology plants sinking their teeth into my legs, do you really think a little blood would gross me out?” 

“Well, no… but that’s different.” 

“Why is it different?” His voice was like liquid velvet he implored you further, entrancing you enough that you failed to muster up the willpower to stop him as he took a step into the shower. “Because of where it comes from? Those prudes that call it taboo don’t know a damn thing. Not to say I know more than anyone, but I’ve read plenty of books on the subject… do you want to know what I think?” 

The entire time he spoke, he encroached into your space more and more until finally he was towering over you. Your shoulder blades pressed against the wall of the shower, Sebastian’s taller frame forcing you to crane your neck back to look up at him. His hair was soaked now– fully at the mercy of the water gushing from above– but he didn’t so much as blink as he waited for you to answer him. 

When you mustered up the ability to nod shakily, Sebastian grinned and began sensually trailing his fingertips over your shoulders. “I think it’s a profound thing. Spiritual, even. In other parts of the world, women are revered for being able to create life, and bleeding is a natural part of that. It’s normal, and you’re not dirty. On the contrary, I think you’re beautiful. I mean, you’re always stunning, but there is something about you covered in blood that I find rather ravishing.” 

The blush staining your cheeks had absolutely nothing to do with how hot the water temperature was. “Now I know you’re lying. That’s just insane to say–” 

“I’ll prove it to you,” Sebastian interjected, digging his nails into the skin of your upper arms. “You trust me, right?” 

Of course you did. If there was anyone you knew you could rely on implicitly, it was Sebastian Sallow. He was loyal, caring, and would go to the ends of the Earth for you if such a thing was ever necessary. But this was… well, a little intimidating. You’d spent the last eighteen years believing that the only way to deal with a menstrual cycle was to isolate yourself and hide the evidence. To open up to him this way– to blindly let him guide you towards whatever revelation he was leading you towards– it scared you. 

You pursed your lips together, trying to hide the grimace that threatened to take over when you nodded again. Sebastian, much to his credit, didn’t laugh or make a big deal about having your go-ahead. To some degree, he had to know this was a first for you, and you appreciated his candor in that regard.

When he leaned in to kiss you, you were too distracted by his lips and tongue and teeth to realize that he was sequestering you into the corner of the shower. Your mind was too muddled to realize much of anything until his hands trailed lower down your abdomen, gripping you around your waist and urging you to relax. The nauseating pain that came with your cramps returned then, and you groaned into his mouth before pulling away with a shudder. “I don’t know, Sebastian. I really don’t feel well. Everything hurts right now.”

“I can help,” he whispered before his mouth reclaimed yours. A predatory sound rumbled deep in his chest, and the way he overwhelmed all of your senses made your knees buckle. His lips brushed against yours when he pulled back to murmur, “I promise. I’ve heard of a foolproof way to make it hurt less. Just trust me.” 

You didn’t have to be a Leglimens to guess what he was implying would ‘help’. If there had been any doubt before now, you would have figured it out when his fingers appeared against your cunt– sliding through blood and water easily as he neared your entrance. “It might be messy,” you supplied lamely, your body betraying your words as your legs parted of their own accord to give him more room. “You really don’t need to do this.” 

Sebastian silenced you with a quick kiss before trailing his mouth along your jaw, bumping your head to the side so he could nip at your pulse teasingly. He stepped forward more to close the gap between the two of you, his startlingly hard length pressing against your hip and making your mouth dry up. “You’re always messy for me down here. A little blood makes no difference.” 

Merlin– your cheeks turned beet red at his quip. Your resolve was crumbling remarkably quickly, Sebastian’s lips and fingers making you melt despite your reservations. How could he be so unbothered by something like this? It wasn’t just blood he would be faced with. There were thick clots that accompanied your flow, your lower stomach bloated uncomfortably, and your breasts looked two sizes larger than normal. You didn’t feel like yourself– barely looked like yourself when it was your time of the month. Wasn’t he troubled by that? 

Sebastian pressed a finger into your core with measured caution, and gods, you were so wet. There was no way of knowing whether it was from the blood or the water, but you honestly didn’t care. As embarrassing as it was to have your boyfriend willingly covering himself in your fluids, it was also strangely arousing. If he didn’t mind the one major thing you deemed disgusting about your cycle, why should you? 

At least, that’s what you told yourself. It was harder to actually believe it.

A second finger curled into you then at the same time Sebastian’s other arm wrapped around the small of your back, pulling you flush to his chest as he licked, bit, and kissed at your neck. With every pump of his digits, your legs grew weaker, and before long your boyfriend was forced to pin you against the shower wall with his chest to keep you upright. “Is it good, darling?” 

You weren’t sure what to think. Everything you were feeling definitely seemed more sensitive than you were used to, which made sense considering how violent your menstrual cycle tended to be. When Sebastian pressed into you harder and curled his fingers deeper, you croaked weakly and dug your nails into the tops of his shoulders. “Don't– don’t know…” 

He repeated the motion a second time before withdrawing his hand from your cunt, holding it up at eye-level to reveal the stark redness that covered his otherwise sun-kissed skin. You weren’t sure whether you wanted to look away or not. It had to be the running water making it seem like so much blood– the mixing liquids transforming into a ripe, pink color that dripped down his forearm and off of his elbow. He smirked when he caught sight of your aghast expression before dropping his hands to your hips, lifting you up easily before motioning for you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

“S-Sebastian, wait– your hand is filthy–” 

He sucked his teeth loudly as he dropped an arm to position his cock against your folds, shooting you a dry look that quelled any further arguments. “Once again, we’re in the shower. And stop calling it filthy– your blood is anything but gross.” 

The words you opened your mouth to speak were replaced by an airy moan when the head of Sebastian’s length breached your walls slowly and tentatively. It felt tighter than normal, but incredibly slick, too. Your boyfriend evidently agreed, because he groaned out curses as he fed more of his cock inside of you. Once he had bottomed out completely, he lifted his limp neck to fix his eyes on you, and the way his pupils dilated reminded you of an animal lost to the throes of bloodlust. 

He spared a brief moment to readjust his grip on you, holding the undersides of your legs and using the wall to pin you in place. Then he was moving, his strength unwavering as he pulled his hips back before driving them forward again– only this time with more force. His leverage over you allowed him to aim every thrust perfectly, striking the deepest parts of you with alarming precision, and all you could do was hold on to his shoulders for dear life. 

“F-Fuck, Sebastian–” you stammered dimly, your voice nearly drowned out by the sound of the rushing water. He groaned eagerly– your only sign that he had heard you– and then leaned against you more so that when he freed his blood-soaked hand to fondle your tender breast, you didn’t fall. 

Red, finger-shaped stripes appeared along your skin as Sebastian massaged your swollen chest, timing every gentle squeeze with each plunge of his cock. You wanted to be disgusted by the sight of your body’s essence being smeared across your flesh, but that thought came secondary to the realization that everything he was doing felt good. Every thrust seemed to grant relief to your twisting insides, prompting your muscles to relax before shifting to clench around his length. The pleasure was rapidly overshadowing the pain, and once Sebastian took note of your pliant state, he abandoned your breast to tilt your chin up and kiss you. 

His tongue swept along the inside of your mouth, wringing tiny noises from you that he enthusiastically swallowed up. The way Sebastian held you fast to the wall with your legs clamped around his hips made it so that his pelvis rubbed deliciously against your clit as he moved, and you fully surrendered to the bliss that came to replace your apprehension. Your eyes squeezed shut as something far different from your cramps began to build in your lower stomach– a telling heat that grew in intensity and threatened to burn you from the inside out. 

“I can feel you,” Sebastian panted against your lips. “You feel so warm– so tight–” he punctuated the statement with a hurried snap of his hips, expelling a strangled gasp from your throat. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes. Yes, it’s good.” 

Sebastian returned both hands to supporting your rear as he speared his cock into you harder, gripping you with strength so intense that you knew it would bruise. The realization that you craved his marks on your body left you moaning fervently. You wanted the memory of this moment etched into your skin long after the blood had washed away, because you didn’t want to forget a second of it. 

The blasted man had been right, but you weren’t keen on telling him as much. 

As the pleasure mounting in your gut amplified, you tried to rut down onto Sebastian’s cock in a bid to chase the euphoria dangling in front of you. The water beating down on both of your bodies made it difficult, however, and Sebastian stilled your movements by pressing you into the wall so firmly that your shoulder blades scraped against the tiles. He held you there securely, rolling his hips into yours as he slammed into your cunt over and over and over again until finally you were crying out his name, your walls clamping down on his cock viciously. 

You felt lightheaded as your climax washed over you, your muscles tensing and limbs trembling as Sebastian held you through all of it. When your head fell back against the wall, you heard and felt the low rumble in your boyfriend’s chest as he found his way to his own precipice. The warmth of his release filling you somehow soothed the lingering soreness in your abdomen, and the minute rocking of his hips settled your nerves marvelously. 

When you finally found your voice again, all you managed to say was, “Bloody hell.” 

Sebastian huffed out a laugh, lifting his head to stare at you through his dark lashes. “Was that supposed to be a joke?” 

“No, you dunce. I’m just… surprised.” You looked down to stare at where the two of you were still connected, not at all shocked to discover that both of you looked like you had been maimed from the waist down. Blood was everywhere; on your stomach, your legs, and the base of Sebastian’s cock looked like someone had tried to saw it off. It was a ludicrous sight. 

But a new, budding part of you also found it to be equally arousing. 

Maybe exposure therapy wasn’t the worst way to handle your aversion to your own womanly… period of time.  

When Sebastian gingerly withdrew from your walls and set you down on your feet, you were pleased to discover that your cramps had miraculously calmed. There was a lingering ache between your legs that ebbed up to your inner-stomach, but it was nowhere near as harsh as it had been earlier. You weren’t even sure if you could blame your cycle for that. 

Something told you that the culprit of that bizarrely nice soreness radiating from your lower half was hanging between Sebastian’s legs. 

“I take my thanks in the form of kisses, by the way.” 

Your eyes skirted away from the blood running down your thighs to land on your very smug, very arrogant looking boyfriend. His brown eyes twinkled with amusement when you pouted at him, and his laughter shook the walls of the shower when you reached out to smack his chest. “You don’t have to be so boastful about it, you know. Can you blame me for being hesitant?”

He shrugged and stepped under the spray of the water, tipping his head back to shift his wet hair out of his face. “Not really, no. But you should know by now that you can talk to me about anything– even the embarrassing stuff.”

“Well, I know that now. I’m not a villain for assuming you would be grossed out by all of this, though.”

Sebastian smirked and tugged you under the showerhead alongside him. He situated you so that your back was to his chest, then reached around to run his hands over the red-stained parts of your stomach, gently washing away the streaked blood. You couldn’t help but relax into him– entirely too at peace to deny yourself his touch any longer. 

“That’s a fair assumption…” he mused thoughtfully, lowering his head so his lips were pressed directly against your ear. The feeling of his breath fanning across your damp skin sent a chill down your spine, and you swallowed thickly when he proclaimed, “But any wizard of true merit wouldn’t be opposed to getting a little blood on his wand every now and again.”

Gods. His madness truly knew no bounds.

[sandushengshou]

Interview with the Vampire | 2.05 “Don't Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape”

[charlotte-family-apologist]

There's context behind this that I will not be sharing 😇

[hemacyte]

didn't like the caption

that guy from emesis blue

[tabooiart]

this hot pink bitch was named breakfast!!!