#the title is part of the lyrics of the song

[doscharolastras]

Title: A Fine Romance (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 2735

Warnings: Established, long-term relationship; no age gap; strong language; semi-public sex; oral sex (female-receiving); unprotected PiV sex; Reader identifies as female and has female anatomy but is undescribed otherwise; Reader has no name — Marcus and others call her by pet names (i.e.: “Songbird”, “my girl”); gratuitous use of Bruce Springsteen lyrics.

Notes: Part of the @pedgito / @chaotic-mystery / @amanitacowboy Summer Of Love challenge! I was given Marcus Pike at a concert and the moodboard above. This was not anywhere near the story I set out to write, but it’s the story that wanted to be told. I hope everyone enjoys.

Dedicated to @ladamedusoif, my beta, my lifeline (sometimes literally), and one of the best friends a girl could ask for… Thank you. 💜

(Dividers by @saradika-graphics)

You’re nervous.

You’re used to the feeling, and usually, it passes pretty fast. Once the lights hit your face and the mic’s in your grasp, it all fades and there’s nothing but you and the music and the crowd singing your lyrics back.

Maybe it’s because it’s a festival — your first one ever. You’re far more accustomed to dark little bars or the smaller concert venues you’ve recently graduated to. So this? This wide-open field with its hundreds of thousands of faces and unknowable reach thanks to a free online livestream?

This makes you nervous.

“Hey.” Marcus’ voice is clear even over the din of the crowd. “You alright?”

You turn to meet his deep brown eyes, shining with excitement for you. “Just a little shaky.”

His smile widens and his broad hand falls to your lower back. “You’re gonna be amazing, Songbird.” Just the sound of your nickname slows your heart rate a little. “And,” he leans in and kisses you softly, his lips dragging on yours a little longer than necessary. “I can’t wait to celebrate your success afterward.”

You feel the heat in your face though you’re sure no one heard Marcus’ entendre. Swatting gently at his arm even as you wink, you pull back. “Where will you be?”

“There’s a little family section in the pit. On your left from centerstage. I’ll be right there.” He presses another kiss to your cheek as one of the stagehands waves to you, your signal that you’re about to go on. “Love you,” he murmurs, catching your fingers and squeezing them. “Go kick some ass.”

“I love you, too,” you reply as he hurries away.

“You ready?” Dante Robbins has been your guitarist since the days of playing on the street outside the bars.

“Mm. Let’s do it.”

Your traditional pre-show handclaps are half-hearted, and you wonder if maybe Dante is just as nervous as you. But when the MC announces your set and you bounce onto the stage, things start to feel much more familiar.

“Thank you, New York!”

Dante’s nimble fingers slip into your über-popular cover of Bruce Springsteen’s “Rosalita”, the festival’s backing band picking up immediately, and your gaze surreptitiously slips down to find Marcus in the exact spot he’d said.

“Spread out now, Rosie, doctor come cut loose her mama’s reins You know playin’ blind man's bluff is a little baby’s game You pick up Little Dynamite, I’m gonna pick up Little Gun And together we’re gonna go out tonight and make that highway run You don’t have to call me lieutenant, Rosie, and I don’t want to be your son The only lover I’m ever gonna need’s your soft sweet little girl’s tongue Ah, Rosie, you’re the one…”

As you dance and sing across the stage, your nerves all but abated, you catch Marcus again, bouncing and clapping like your very own Courteney Cox. He’s got such a smile on his face you can’t help but grin back, almost wishing you could pull him up to dance beside you.

“Rosalita, jump a little lighter Señorita, come sit by my fire I just want to be your lover, ain't no liar Rosalita, you're my stone desire…”

Your set consists of six songs, and you close it out with your first single, “Stone Desire” (which calls right back to “Rosalita” and, you think, is a perfect circle). The roar of the crowd is beyond deafening as you hurry off stage, and in the excitement, you realize — Dante isn’t with you. In fact, he’s been more than absent since you first got up on stage.

“Dante?” you call. You try to think — nothing unusual had happened since that morning. You’d done your little rehearsal in your hotel room while Marcus showered; you’d driven over together in the trailer bus…

And yet, since you’d gotten to the festival grounds, he’d been distant. The cold way he started the gig. The enthusiastic high-fives that had been your signature since the early days had been lacking. He didn’t even respond normally to the way you chatted and introduced him between songs.

What did I do? you think. Our biggest chance yet and he’s…

You step past the little curtains that separate the wings of the stage from the outside world, and stop dead in your tracks.

Dante is standing right there, acoustic guitar now strapped over his shoulder. You recognize the song he’s playing — Peter Frampton’s quintessential “Show Me The Way” — but it’s truly just background noise to the other thing happening…

Marcus, on one knee, holding up a simple diamond solitaire.

“I know you probably think I’m insane,” he says, his voice soft but strong. “But I’ve wanted to do this for so long and I just… Today felt like the right day. This feels like the right moment.” His eyes hold yours as you take slow, tentative steps towards him. “I want to be there for you every single time you sing, sweetheart. Your own personal fanclub — on and off that stage.” He reaches out and takes your fingers lightly in his free hand. “Will you marry me?”

You feel the grass under your knees before you even realize you’ve dropped down to meet him. “Oh, Marcus,” you murmur, your fingers grazing up over his stubbled cheek. You feel tears on your face and your smile doesn’t feel like it will ever falter. “Yes. Of course, yes.”

Dante’s soft guitar is all you hear as Marcus slips the little band over your finger and pulls you in for a kiss, his tongue parting your lips as his hand curls around the back of your neck. “Oh, I love you,” he whispers into your mouth.

“I love you,” you reply, the salt of your tears and his delicious taste mixing between you. You’re sure people can see you, that your little moment isn’t private in any way, but you just don’t care. The only thing that matters is the beautiful man wrapped in your arms.

The kisses are only broken when a thought hits you. “Wait, wait.” You push back, your palms pressed against Marcus’ shoulders. Marcus holds you, his face colored with concern. “Dante?”

You look up at him, and he smiles a little, shrugging, his long hair bunching against his shoulders. “Sorry.”

“Marcus,” you say slowly. “Dante knew this whole time?”

“I didn’t know who else to trust,” he replies, grinning. “Figured he was a good choice.”

“Wish it was anyone else,” Dante interjects. “I can’t keep a secret for shit.”

“I thought you were mad at me!” you cry. “You were so out of it!”

“Tell your fiancé not to make me lie to you!”

“A secret is not a lie, Dante.”

Guitar long since swung around his back, Dante folded his arms over his chest. “And that’s why you’re a government agent and I’m a damn musician,” he laughs. Leaning over, he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Congratulations, babe. And you.” He points a finger in Marcus’ face. “Be good to my girl.”

Marcus salutes. “I will. I promise.”

With that, Dante is gone, and you and Marcus are alone — still kneeling in the grass, your new ring glinting against his shoulder in the sunlight. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

After a quick food truck meal and a couple of beers — interspersed with a handful of folks coming up to you for photos and autographs — Marcus holds your hand as you make your way back to the trailer. There’s a DJ on stage now, filling time between the late afternoon sets and the big time evening performers, and you hear your “Rosalita” remixed into an upbeat Mexican cumbia rhythm.

You laugh, but Marcus takes a different approach, pulling you in to dance with him. You’ve never been particularly good, but he is, and you fall into step with him as his hands curl around you and his body sways against yours.

“So hold tight, baby, cause don't you know daddy's comin’...”

His voice fills your ear, his breath hot on your cheek, and you press back against him, your hands wrapping over his where they rest on your belly.

Without another word, you turn and take his fingers in yours, pulling him to the trailer. You’re barely inside before your lips are on his.

“Easy, easy,” he whispers, but you fumble behind him to lock the door as you kiss him deeper.

“I want” — your teeth scrape over his full lower lip — “my fiancé” — your nose along the line of his beard — “to fuck me” — your tongue down the column of his throat — “right now.”

You know Marcus. He’s soft, gentle, romantic. Just the way you love him.

And yet, inspired by the song lyrics he’d purred in your ear and your proclamation of desire, a switch seems to have been flipped.

He grabs you, swinging you around so the backs of your thighs are pressed against the little table against the other wall. You take the hint, sitting back on it as he devours your mouth. “You’re going to have to be very quiet,” he whispers. “Even with the music outside.”

You nod, whimpering already as his fingers slip under the hem of your shirt and brush against your bare skin. He moves slowly, but soon the t-shirt is gone and so is the bra beneath it, and his lips have taken their place.

Carding your fingers through his hair, you toss your head back as his tongue circles over one of your nipples. “Oh, Marcus…”

“Shhh, love,” he whispers into your skin. He continues his path, pushing you carefully back to rest on your elbows as he dips into your belly button. His deft fingers work at your jeans, and he only pulls his mouth from your body long enough to release you from them.

He meets your eyes, wordlessly awaiting your agreement, and when you mouth, “I love you”, he grins and disappears between your legs.

It’s hard to be any kind of quiet when Marcus Pike is eating you out. In fact, it’s damn near impossible, and the only way you can control yourself is to grab the t-shirt you’d been wearing and stuff it between your lips.

Marcus isn’t all that quiet, either. His little groans and moans as he strokes himself through his jeans and as his lips and tongue probe your most sensitive areas are enough to make you come then and there. His hands are holding your legs apart even as every instinct inside you is telling you to close them; his nose is nudging your clit in the most delicious way possible as his tongue darts inside you.

You remove the material from your mouth to whisper, “Marcus, baby, I’m close.”

“I know,” he replies, looking up at you, his face shimmering with your slick. “Let go.”

And as he disappears again, you do.

You’re still shaking slightly, your breath in raspy gasps, when he — rather unceremoniously — pushes into you. The feeling is overwhelming and you can’t help but cry out louder than you’d intended, but he captures the sound in another bruising kiss as he lets you adjust around him. You tighten your muscles, relishing the fullness and weight of him inside you and on top of you, and he groans, taking the t-shirt from where it now rests over your chest and tucking it carefully behind your head.

As Marcus begins a slow but sharp rhythm against you, you discover that the little table is far sturdier than you’d have expected. His thighs slap hard against the bottom of your ass, and as he begins to speed up, you have the sudden image of the whole trailer shaking with the force of his thrusts.

It makes you laugh.

“What… What’s funny?” he pants, stuttering a little in his movements.

“N-no, don’t stop,” you breathe. “Just… If the trailer’s a-rockin’...”

“Oh, Jesus, sweetheart.” Marcus’ grin is real, even as sweat begins to bead on his forehead. “I must not be doing my job if you’re making jokes right now.”

As if rising to a challenge, he slips his thumb into your mouth and presses it to your tongue. After a moment, he pulls it free and uses it — wet with your saliva — to draw lazy circles around your clit as he fucks into you.

“Ohhhhhh.”

“That’s better,” he smiles. “C’mere.”

He slows a bit to allow you to push upright, your arms wrapping around his neck as he kisses you hard. “Can you carry me?”

“Mm, I think I can manage.”

He lifts you carefully, but he stumbles, and you both nearly collapse in giggles.

“Oh, Marcus, put me down.” You pinch lightly at his hip and he lets your feet hit the floor, his eyes taking in your whole body. “Like what you see?”

“Always.”

You smile and take his hand, leading him back to the little bed, only slipping away from him to push him onto his back. You stroke his cock a few times before repositioning yourself over him, angling yourself to take him in as deep as possible.

Your groans mix together in the heavy air, and when he’s fully seated inside you, you lean forward to shove his shirt up, encouraging him to remove it. When he does, you press heavy, hard kisses to his chest, slowly rolling your hips against his as you do.

“Ah, fuck, keep that up and I won’t last,” he hisses.

You grin. “That’s my plan, Mr. Pike.” You nip at a little cluster of freckles on the front of his shoulder. “At least, the first time.”

Marcus’ hands come to rest on your waist, gripping you just enough to give the impression that he’s in control despite you making all the moves on top of him. You hold onto his elbows, using him as leverage as you bounce and grind on him, keeping your rhythm steady as you watch his face redden, his freckles popping against the flush.

“Come on, Marcus,” you murmur. “Come inside me. Claim me; claim your wife.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation in his eyes, but just a moment, until he realizes you mean it completely. His fingers press so tightly into your skin you know you’ll feel the bruises for days but you don’t care, not one bit as you feel him shudder and arch beneath you. His body trembles and it’s enough to bring you over the edge with him, all pretense of quiet gone as you cry out and fall forward, your hand slamming into the wall over his head as he buries his face in the hollow of your throat.

You’re not entirely sure how much time has passed since you rolled off of Marcus and curled up under his arm. The music outside is less electronic, so you figure the DJ has finished and one of the bands is officially playing, but that could be minutes or hours, really.

Rolling onto your side, you slip your left hand over Marcus’ stomach and wiggle your finger so the little diamond glitters in the dim amber light of the trailer. “Marcus?”

“Mm?” He sounds sleepy, dazed, but he tightens his grip on you and you feel his lips brush over your forehead.

“When did you know you wanted to marry me?”

He’s quiet, just the sound of his steady breathing for a few moments. “Do you remember the first time I came to see you sing?”

Our fifth date. “Yes.”

“It was then.”

You furrow your brow, trying to remember the exact details of the night. “Because of my voice?”

“No.” He shifts against you now, shuffling down on the bed so your faces are aligned. “It was because you walked off that stage, right up to me, and said, ‘Let’s go get Chinese food, I’m starving.’”

“...you can’t be serious.”

He grins, his whole face lighting up. “As a heart attack. I knew right then.”

You laugh, loud and happy. “Oh, I fucking love you.”

Marcus pulls you in, and you wrap your legs around him, lining him up with your entrance. “Again, sweetheart?”

You nod, shifting your hips just slightly. “I said that was just the first time,” you reply, lifting your chin for a kiss. “Gotta celebrate tonight just right.”

As he slips inside you again, gentle and easy, you cuddle your face into his throat.

“I just wanna be your lover, ain’t no liar…”

[ghostinacardboardbox]

@averagecygnet-blog i accidentally deleted your ask about my opinion on the themes in Black Friday 😶 sorry bout that anywhere here’s my thoughts.

So like first of all, like you’ve already said, the critique of consumerism is incredibly heavy handed. You are right. It is not at all subtle. We’ve all heard Made in America. But I really don’t think it was possible to tell this story and have it be subtle; this was always going to be an incredibly overt anti-capitalist message.

Starting with the real life inspirations of the premise, the “Tickle-Me Wiggly” is already a direct reference to “Tickle-Me Elmo,” which was a toy that inspired real life riots ending in at least a handful of injuries and arrests. In the scene right after the Wiggly Jingle, Paul and Emma discuss Cabbage Patch Kids. The Cabbage Patch riots have their own wiki page. The idea of parents literally resorting to violence over toys on Black Friday is something that already happens. So this musical is really just looking at those events, saying, “Wow, capitalism sure makes people behave badly,” and then pushing that concept to its most exaggerated form. The fact that it isn’t subtle is not a bug, it’s a feature.

I also see people bring up this theme almost entirely in relation to the song Made in America rather than connecting it to almost every scene. As if this isn’t a show that doesn’t begin with an advertisement. The opening number is an ad.

(Apparently an effective one, considering how quickly Starkid sells out of the Lord in Black dolls whenever they sell them. People literally watched a whole musical about how the doll represents using the product of capitalism to distract from societal problems and then went and bought the doll. And I would have, too, if I had the money. But I think about the irony.)

I'm not going to go through every scene and the capitalist imagery in it, mostly because I don't actually have anything particularly unique to say about it. Like most of them are fairly self-explanatory and I'm not particularly good at analysis. But do want to specifically bring up the lyrics of "Our Doors Are Open" since they usually get overshadowed by people talking about how much cunt Corey served (it's a lot of cunt. Record amounts of cunt served), because the entire song is both satirical and foreshadowing. Also the bridge of "First of Famine" and the dehumanization of the worker, etc. etc.

I'm also fascinated by the social dynamics in Black Friday. Lex is basically raising her sister due to their mother's neglect; Tom is a single dad; Becky is a domestic abuse survivor; and while Linda's family externally looks very well-put together, she's had multiple affairs, and it's revealed in the Nightmare Time episode "Honey Queen" that she blatantly plays favorites with her kids and has a terrible relationship with her father. Lex is a poor retail worker, Tom and Becky are middle class, and Linda is very wealthy. Black Friday more than any other Starkid show acknowledges the implications of social class, I think. I wonder if part of why a lot of people don't like it is because it's not really escapism the way a lot of other musicals are; it's pretty clear about dealing with real life problems, in a very simplified but obvious way.

I think all the time about the scene where Linda tells Becky, in front of a crowd, that everyone knew her husband was abusive and chose to stay silent. It's such an important moment because it's directly showing the audience just how cruel Linda is. It had been implied before but this was on another level. And it also serves as, again, a pretty basic depiction of how society treats victims. Like, saying that "bystanders will always look away as long as there's plausible deniability to preserve their own comfort" is pretty simple, but that doesn't mean it's a bad point to make, and I think it's made well. The title song also has the lines "I don't want your half-baked sympathy, / When did it save those in need?" which reinforces a similar concept; expressing pity isn't the same as actually taking any kind of action.

And then, of course, there is all the religious imagery. Every time I watch this show I notice more of it, it's everywhere and it's so cool. The show takes place during the holiday season so there are a lot of references to Christmas, specifically. Wiggly keeps saying it will be his birthday, and Linda will "birth" him, so they are tied to Jesus and the Virgin Mary, symbolically (While writing this I had the thought that Wiley possibly counts as the angel Gabriel, then). And I think that using Christmas works because of how commercial Christmas in the US is. If your eldrith god is using capitalist desires as a recruiting tactic, having him bastardize Christmas for his own purposes is a pretty logical step I think. It's also not just that Wiggly is associated with Christmas thematically but also in a sense the iconography of the holiday becomes Wiggly. The garlands on the balcony turning into Wiggly's tentacles is one of the greatest set design pieces I've ever seen. Even apart from the functionality of it as a low-cost set that can go unnoticed until it's needed, it so perfectly evokes the imagery of Wiggly literally corrupting the holiday imagery. The first time I saw that scene I was amazed. I don't feel like checking rn who did the set design for Black Friday but whoever they are, they're fucking incredible. No notes.

And then the music. This is by far my favorite Starkid score overall. I love it so much. Partially because I, known 80's pop-rock enjoyer, am obsessed with a good synthesizer, but also just because of how well the songs suit this particular story. The synths are used most in the songs that show Wiggly's influence (Feast or Famine, Adore Me, Wiggle). Is "non-traditional instruments represent the unknown and otherworldly" the most unique special concept ever? No. But I like it and it sounds cool so like idc.

Jeff Blim is an incredible songwriter who is so talented in so many genres, and I'm always impressed with the songs he writes for Hatchetfield. I think sometimes we don't appreciate enough that all of these songs are by one guy (also Matt Dahan's musical direction for the entire series and the underscoring for both seasons of Nightmare Time that works in the melodies of previously used songs so incredibly). All of the Nightmare Time songs are so different, and all three of the stage shows have a very distinctive sound that really makes sense with the story that's being told. And one of the things Jeff does best in my opinion is the use of repeated melodies and leitmotifs.

Hatchetfield is full of them. There's been a lot of discussion of it in Nerdy Prudes because that show has so many motifs (i.e. the Nightmare Time riff, the "I'm not a loser" melody), and one of them actually comes from Black Friday. In The Summoning, right after Wiggly says "fwendy-wends," the keyboard melody that plays is the same as the part in the song Wiggle that goes "We will build a portal just for [when he comes]" (The last few notes fade directly into the chorus of The Summoning). I'm not the first person to notice this or anything but I thought it was so cool when it happened.

And Wiggle itself is using a different melody: The Carol of the Bells. Again, it ties into the idea of Wiggly completely taking over the idea of the Christmas season. The lyrics of Wiggle also include the lines "He will rise up with joyful noise," and I didn't realize that not everyone would catch that as a religious reference until a friend commented about it but "joyful noise" is a biblical reference (Psalm 100:1). It all ties back to the religious themes.

This last one may not be intentional, but the last song also really makes me think of another Christmas carol? The opening lyrics of What If Tomorrow Comes ("Do you all see what I see, / What I know, / What I see?") really reminds me of the song "Do You All Hear What I Hear?" The melody is different and only vaguely similar so I may be reading too far into it, but I always got the feeling that I'd heard something like that before and wasn't able to place it until last year.

Anyway TLDR Black Friday is heavy handed but I think it actually works better that way, and I like how strong the imagery throughout it is.

[anonomi]

an unhealthy obsession

[otomehonyaku]

otomehonyaku writes ☽ it's possession that will set me free (Ruki/Yui)

Ruki/Yui scenario with some yandere tendencies, bite play & semi-spicy aftercare. Full text under the cut. Implied NSFW.

I blindly patted the bed sheets around me when I came to. My eyes squeezed shut to block out the light—it must still be very early in the morning if the sun blinded me like this—but I could feel that I was alone this time. 

Flashes of last night flooded my mind. Ruki had never been this rough with me before.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yesterday, Ayato had confidently positioned himself as a competitor when he pulled me aside after class to ‘introduce’ himself. It was fortunate that Ruki had been close by and sensed the danger immediately–the realisation that other, less cordial vampires were coming for me had kicked my adrenaline into full gear, after all–but my relief soon turned into dread when Ruki took me home.

The situation had clearly struck a nerve and ignited a fierce possessiveness in him that I had never seen before. Ruki had dragged me into his bedroom and unceremoniously ripped the uniform from my body until I was left in my underwear. I had simply stood there with my back pressed up against the door, holding my breath, my mind hazy in a flurry of both fear and anticipation. Ruki had towered over me, eyes ablaze with frustration and hunger as he growled at me to hold still. 

I had tried to reassure Ruki that I wanted nothing to do with Ayato. That he hadn’t hurt me, and that I would never let him hurt me, either. I grasped the collar of Ruki’s shirt in an effort to get through to him, but I was imprisoned in his arms. I don’t think he even heard me. 

His body was suddenly flush with mine, his face buried in the crook of my neck. His lips ghosted over the delicate skin of my collarbone. He inhaled deeply. Savoured my scent. A final attempt to ground himself. 

“You are my Eve. Mine alone.” His whisper had been quick and frenzied, his composure gone. “I’ll carve it deep into your body so you will never forget.”

No matter how hard I bit down on my lip, I couldn’t keep myself from screaming Ruki’s name every time his fangs penetrated me, piercing veins and scraping bone. The others undoubtedly heard me. Lavender bruises in the shape of his fingertips had come to flower all over my body since then–my wrists, my waist, even my thighs–where Ruki had held me down firmly while he overrode any possible traces of the other vampire.

It always took considerable effort to keep myself together when I let him feed on me. I had come to manage it over the past weeks. Indulge in it, even. That night, however, his frantic bites and touches had made my composure crumble in the blink of an eye. Every whisper of my name left me reeling. My cheeks were soon wet with tears. The bizarre concoction of agony and ecstasy overwhelmed me. Intoxicated me.

Ruki was devouring me whole, and I let myself succumb to his greediness completely.

“Yui. Look at me.” 

Ruki’s breathing was ragged. He grabbed my chin roughly and forced me to meet his gaze when my eyes threatened to roll into the back of my head. His other hand erratically roamed my skin, as if I could disappear at any moment. My whimpers spurred him on even more.

It was getting difficult to focus, but I managed a pleading look at him. “Ruki…”

The taste of iron flooded my mouth when his lips collided with mine.

Ruki’s desperate desire to monopolise me hadn’t worn off until my head began lolling off the side of the bed. I drifted in and out of consciousness. From that point, I only vaguely remembered him carrying me down the hall and into the bathroom. 

At least I hadn’t been completely naked. Ruki had draped his bloodied shirt over my shoulders as a courtesy, but it did very little to keep the chill of his bare skin away as I lay defeated in his arms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In a wave of sleep-induced, blind panic, I instinctively reached for my bra with one hand and the other down under the bedsheets to my panties. They both felt slightly damp to the touch. I relaxed a little. Right. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The remaining blood in my body had crowded in my cheeks when Ruki coaxed me under a hot shower to clean up, all with a surprising amount of patience and care. 

He had agreed to leave my underwear on. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his own slacks, for that matter. My memory was spotty, but I was sure Ruki would make me remember every millisecond of it if he had. It was already torture enough to have to clutch onto his bare upper body to keep myself from falling over.

Losing consciousness had turned out to be the least of my problems. I winced at the pain of the warm water flowing over the fresh wounds on my skin, but arguably much worse was having to endure the full extent of the healing properties of Ruki’s saliva. I appreciated the gesture, of course. The punctures, especially this deep, would take weeks to heal otherwise. However, whereas Ruki’s feeding mostly incapacitated me–it made it hard to form a coherent thought at all, really–it was unbearable to be wholly conscious of his mouth in such intimate places.

Ruki expertly ran his tongue over the wet skin of my neck to close up the punctures, occasionally sucking without drawing blood just for the sake of it. By the time he had knelt between my legs to heal the one bite mark on my inner thigh, I was completely out of my mind. The steam clouding the shower cabin seemed to be coming out of my ears. My hands were braced on his broad shoulders, and I nervously looked down at him. 

Streaks of his dripping inky black hair fell in front of his eyes as our gazes met. I shivered involuntarily when the light caught the tips of his sharp teeth, making them stand out. Those teeth had been in me. Ruki held my gaze, his face slowly leaning in to nudge my thighs apart…

For a fraction of a second, I recalled him forcefully parting my legs as I lay bleeding and writhing underneath him on the bed. He’d taken a brief moment to savour the sight of me, his expression dark with desire, before making me cry out when he greedily drew blood from the innermost part of my thigh.

Embarrassment had gotten the better of me in the cramped space of the shower. I swatted him away before I could stop myself.

“I’m sorry,” I whimpered.

Ruki had stood back up with a low chuckle. The devious twinkle in his eyes suggested that he enjoyed my reaction.

“If you insist,” was his only reply.

With heavy-lidded eyes but no less interest, I had watched the lean muscles of Ruki’s back shift under his skin as he washed his hair. To say that his feeding had always been an intimate experience was an understatement—sharing the very thing that keeps you alive does that to you, I suppose—but this had actually been the first time I’d seen so much of his body. Ruki casually showed me the lacerations on his back, the sole reminder of his human past. It had been humbling. The bite marks he gave me would always fade away with time, but even in death he was quite literally branded for life. Merciless as he could be, he had once been a human boy with hopes and dreams for the future.

At the same time, the plain carnal desire for the vampire—the man—before me had hit me like a battering ram. Anyone could see at a glance that he was beautiful, unusually so. He was equally apt at using his handsome features and gallant façade to effortlessly lure people in like moths to a flame. Upon a closer look, then, the inhuman poise with which he carried himself was nothing short of predatory. A chill ran down my spine when I realised how much he must have held himself back before I knew about his true nature. Now that no holds were barred, Ruki both relished his bloodlust and yet had the unnerving restraint to kiss me like I was as fragile as a porcelain doll. Perhaps the precarious balance between the two was what drew me so much to him. 

While my eyes followed the V-shaped line of muscle in his lower back until it dipped below the waistband of his slacks, which were drenched to the skin, any lingering resolve to run away faded in an instant. Instead, I had come to entertain the thought of Ruki taking me to bed and claiming the last part of me that I hadn’t surrendered to him yet.

I wanted him to ruin me.

Ruki turned around, and so my gaze had been promptly and undeniably trained on the front of his slacks. The soaked fabric left little to the imagination.

“You really are an indecent woman, Yui.”

I inhaled sharply and looked away so fast my head spun. 

“Try not to stare so much,” he said, sounding unfazed. “Unless you’re hellbent on fainting, your heart rate is much too fast for an anaemic.”

Ruki silently grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower. 

I stayed behind in the cabin for another while, trying desperately to regain my composure, but I had to cover my burning face with my hands when I caught the wet sound of his slacks falling to the bathroom floor.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Now wide awake, I rolled onto my stomach and groaned into my pillow. I was glad to know that at least some of my modesty had been preserved. But then again, the throbbing pain up my leg reminded me that I’d lost most of it already.

[vimbry]

it's sad how many reviews and stuff around tmbg seem to centre linnell as the sole dark and creepy writer of the band, never really crediting flansburgh too. do "hide away folk family," "dirt bike," "rabid child," "black ops," "cloisonné" mean nothing to them, smh.

[crossbackpoke-check]

it’s all the rest of what i want with you

connor dewar/brandon duhaime :: 8k

Summary:

“Brandon,” Connor says with a sigh. “There’s no baby in there.”

“Not yet,” Brandon says. Connor feels his stomach twist, almost like what he would imagine a baby kicking to feel like.

in these trying times of dewvorce, may i offer you 8k of pwp inspired by @stillfertile’s wonderful art which i had. several breakdowns about 🫶 anyway please enjoy!!!

[skitskatdacat63]

"Bring on The Dancing Horses"(x) - Echo and The Bunnymen × Ferrari Drivers

[vani-ash]

Fic titled 'Brother I'm Not Much A Poet But A Criminal'

Where Kinn finds out that kim didn't actually leave the mafia world he just hides the fact that their father makes him do shady shit in exchange for being otherwise left alone and doesn't interfere in Kim's life besides calling him to do what is practically suicide missions for anyone else every couple of weeks Kinn sees Kim stumbling around the compound, bleeding and bruised after a particularly bad mission but Kim refuses to tell Kinn why he's like that, he manages to get to the infirmary and pass out. When Kim wakes up Kinn is by his bed side asking what happened and being a concerned older brother, but Kim's too high on painkillers to tell him to fuck off and just starts crying with how frustrated he is with his situation and starts telling Kinn about how the only reason their father let him leave and pursue music was cause he was using Kim as an attack dog.

[dying-suffering-french-stalkers]

I think vacation agencies should also help you bully your employer into giving you reasonable vacation time

[starsnores]

gamzee but part of his motivation can be summed up as "if i can't have love, i want power."

[mmaebee]

I used to wonder where I could go

To sit and watch the moon come out

It’s never like I dreamed it though

It had to be just a matter of time

Before you came and found me there

But silently all through the air

Came Out of a Lady - Rubblebucket

a comic about c!tubbo and snowchester

[chirpsythismorning]

🎨 🖼️ 🌈 🩹 🧍🏽💡 🔮⚡️☄️

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John

previous ⏪︎ now playing ⏩ next back to playlist

[ashtrayfloors]

The bone must go The wish can stay The kiss don't know What the lips will say

Forget I've hurt you Put stones in your bed And remember to never Mind instead

Well all of your letters Burned up in the fire Time is just memory Mixed in with Desire That's not the road it is Only the map... I say Gone just like matches From a closed down cabaret In a Portuguese Saloon A fly is a circling around The room You'll soon forget the Tune that you play For that is the part You throw away Ah, that is the part You throw away

[donghuamuqing]

As she told me, son:

[candyfloss-kittens]

When you've finished writing everything for a one-shot fic you've been working on for the past week or so, including figuring out what Ao3 tags to use, and making a short summary for said fic. But cannot figure out what the heck you're gonna title it....

Why is coming up with fic titles so hard?

[daz4i]

i did it...... after what felt like months (but it was actually 1 month and 6 days) i managed to write a new song. it's v fun i think. AND i can scratch off "long ass title referencing some other concept or work that's related to the topic" from my songwriting bucket list.