The most delusional thing a writer does is open a document, read the last paragraph, decide it's fine, decide it's not fine, rewrite it worse, undo the rewrite, decide the original was fine actually, and then close the laptop and tell themselves they worked today. I worked today.
The most delusional thing a writer does is open a document, read the last paragraph, decide it's fine, decide it's not fine, rewrite it worse, undo the rewrite, decide the original was fine actually, and then close the laptop and tell themselves they worked today. I worked today.
(Yuu sent back from the future but she’s late in her 3rd trimester, while young yuu was sent to the future in her place. She won’t say who her husband is or anything but she curses him out every other hour, knowing he must be taking his sweet time getting her back.
Meanwhile Crowley is once again also taking his sweet time, and now everyone’s unsure how to act around this version of their friend or what questions are okay to ask)
Yuu: I swear to god if I have to give birth here then I’m going to kill him.
Deuce: A-and by him you mean…your husband?
Yuu: No I mean your birdbrain Headmaster but yeah him too.
Jack: Please don’t.
-
Grim: *playing bongos on Yuu’s stomach while she reads a magazine* My henchhuman having a mini human…this means I get another servant!
Yuu *flips page, uncaring* : More like you’ll be wrapped around their little finger. News flash? You get soft in the future. Best get used to the idea now. And stop hitting so hard! I’m not made of titanium.
Grim *feels the kid kick back and yanks his paw away just as Yuu grimaces* : How strong is that thing?!
Yuu: See what you did? Don’t antagonize them…it’s a miracle they haven’t kicked through my stomach at this point
—
Yuu: *Stuck on the floor after Vil insisted on doing yoga to help her discomfort, making grabby hands towards the sky* Hello, yes, hi sweetie — beached whale on the premises if anyone could spare a moment for my dignity.
Vil: … come along. One more try and then we can try a foot bath.
-
Yuu: *staring very intently at the alignment of snacks at Sam’s, trying to pick which will satisfy her craving the most. Then Ruggie pops up out of nowhere and starts looking with her*
Yuu *picking up an item, then putting it back, picking up another, then putting it back, etc* Hello miniature Ruggie. Here for Leona’s jerky?
Ruggie *jerky in hand and subtly picking up every item she puts down* : Yeah. He still making me do this kinda stuff where you’re from?
Yuu *settling on one*: Yup, but you’re cool with it. Trust.
*They go to the counter and Ruggie pilfers her items and sets them on the counter with his. Before she can wonder what’s come over him, he flashes Leona’s black card.*
Ruggie: Best not fight him on this, believe me.
-
Malleus: *watching yuu very intently from the sidelines. Griping a tree-trunk so tight it nearly capsizes an elder pine*
Lilia: Surely you’re not just going to watch, right? She must be looking for you specifically…don’t forget she is well aware you can sense your own magic, Malleus.
Malleus *pouting* : I’ve heard her threats from where I stand. Should I appear before her, I might jeopardize what we will come to share. That is not a risk I am willing to take.
*they observe as Yuu proceeds to waddle her way up Ramshackle’s steep hill, muttering curses for her husband to ‘hurry his scaley ass up or civil war is coming’ under her breath with each step*
Lilia: You’re just afraid of her ire, kehehe~
Malleus: Yes.
Meanwhile in the future:
Malleus *fully capable of reversing the switch, with full memory of meeting your future version in the past* : “Ah, you were just as lovely then as you are now. Come with me and we’ll sort out what’s happened”
Yuu: Malleus? What? Where the heck am I?! Why are people calling me their Qu —
*They walk past a nursery amidst construction and Yuu’s eyes bulge out*
Yuu: Holy shit are you going to be a dad?! Can I be godmother? Please? Please? Even if someone’s called dibs I’m technically doing it as my past self so it counts as firsties
Malleus *Casually steering you away before you notice the royal wedding portrait on the wall* : As you wish. As much as I’ve missed seeing you so flustered with youth, I imagine your future self is not so eager, and for the sake of our ‘friendship’ it is best I not delay….although a small indulgence should be fine. Would you like a tour of the castle? Lunch?
Yuu *utterly oblivious to the servants stares*: Hell yeah. I always knew you were my favorite Tsunotaro, give me all that fancy grub.
(A/N: idk why I find this so funny. why am I laughing at my own post. why am I this pathetic lmao)
If you are stuck, do not sit and think harder. Change the point of view. Rewrite the scene from the other character's perspective, just for yourself, just to see.
You will immediately find out what the scene is actually about because the other person always knows something your protagonist doesn't. You don't have to use it. You probably won't use it. But you will never be stuck in the same place after you've seen the room from the other side of it.
If you're a new writer and you're asking yourself "is this too personal, is this too much, will people think this is weird" that feeling is the exact location of your actual voice. The stuff that makes you want to close the laptop is the stuff nobody else could write. The safe version is always worse. Always. I have never once read something and thought "this would have been better if it was a little less honest." go further. It's always go further.
Your angst has on how relationships with like the entirety of the Twst cast wouldn't work gave me an idea!!
(this is all bittersweet as the reader is thriving but dude is slowly going insane after not taking his chance)
After being rejected by whoever yuu thought would go out of there way to be with because it was obvious they had feelings for one another, we obviously have like a period of sadness and emptiness but with grim, & probably crewels help they eventually get over it and start exploring their passions and feeling better than ever.
Years pass and he realizes that it wasn't worth it to not try and make it work, so he spends a good chunk of his life yearning for yuu. Only for him to bump into yuu at foothill town, he's excited but anxious to see yuu, only to be told by that yuu theyre already engaged to someone else and is leaving happily with a dream career forever closing the doors of love,(they haven't been open for years but he delusionally thought so) leaving him in the same place yuu was back in their nrc days.
This can fit any character you like!!
Feel free to ignore and remember to drink waterr
me b/c my anon said drink water:
I OVE THIS ASK THOUGH AJFVjhwsgjhgakgsf,kgw
at first I thought about Jamil but upon further thought I like making problems so Malleus will be the subject of this ask bc why not
I recognize that malleus would not care what anyone said and he would just marry Yuu anyways (I mean bro literally crashed out bc some of his favorite people were going to and maybe leaving) but I like trauma so we're gonna ignore that
also I Wish You Would my Taylor Swift started playing as I wrote this and I- PERFECT TIMING???? I'm sobbing
I hope this is up to your standards, I'm not gonna lie it's been a HOT minute since I wrote an actual oneshot-type thing and not just "no but like imagine this" type post
also also I'm sorry I changed the plot a bit from what specifically you asked for 😭 imma be so real I didn't even realize 'til I was already done writing 😭😭😭
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drew for Crowley's card while writing this. didn't get it. I blame Malleus.
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TW! for angst (hurt no comfort muahahhahaha), mentions of panic, unrequited love, pining?? idk
Reader is Yuu
the post the Anon is referring to is this post
________________
In a moment of desperation, you had told Malleus how you felt. At the time, it seemed like the right idea. He had essentially been courting you for months, you liked him back, and you wouldn't have a chance to tell him after he left for his internships. When you blurted it out, he'd looked surprised, pleasantly so, and had accepted your admission as a reciprocation of his courtship. Everything was great. Yuu were relieved. Malleus was overjoyed.
Until he went back to Diasomnia.
Upon telling Lilia, he was met with anything but the warm congratulations and countless questions he expected. Instead, Lilia had stared at him, smiling painfully, trying to formulate what he needed to say. And what the old bat brought up threw all of Malleus' joy off of a cliff into a flaming volcano. Because, for all the problems that Malleus had considered, at had somehow never once crossed his mind that the Elders may not allow this courtship.'
You sat in bed at Ramshackle that night, cuddling Grim contentedly, when the thunder started. The sky clouded and the little bit of moonlight lighting your room was eradicated. Instead, green flashes permeated every now and again, the strikes growing closer together and the heavy rain pouring denser as the night went on.
Malleus had gotten no sleep. The whole night, he was just stuck contemplating the true intricacies of your relationship, as Lilia had recommended, and gotten more and more upset. When morning came, he did not greet his dorm mates. As soon as the sun was supposed to come out (and he was sure it had, above his clouds), he deemed it late enough in the morning to make the trip to Ramshackle.
You awoke to heavy knocking, rolling surprised out of bed. Grim grumbled, but you went on anyways, yawning and assuming Ace or Deuce or someone needed you. So when you opened the door to see Malleus, your eyes widened.
"Wha- Malleus?? What are you-" He brushed past you, cutting you off.
"I won't stay for long, ch- Yuu." His tone was curt and you knew something was wrong.
"What is it? Is there a problem? Do you need help?" You asked, choosing to ignore the panic welling in your stomach at his tone and the fact that he had used your name.
"We cannot court."
You blinked.
"What?"
"We cannot court," He repeated, brow furrowing. "I cannot court you. You cannot marry me. You are not suited to be my spouse."
Okay, harsh. You inhaled sharply, both offended and struggling to stamp out your panic.
"Okay, what? I never- why am I not- me??" Your questions jumbled together, and he sighed. Why did he seem so annoyed? Wasn't he happy about your relationship yesterday??
"We are not courting. Please forget your feelings for me. Good day, Prefect."
And just like that, he was gone. You stared at the door separating you from your favorite person. Your relationship hadn't even lasted 24 hours. And according to him, you were the problem.
_____________
Malleus did not attend his classes that day, not that anyone noticed. You struggled through yours, blaming all of your sluggish behavior on fatigue, since no one even knew about your 8-hour relationship. Malleus thought he had explained everything well enough. Truthfully, he had struggled against breaking down the entire time he was forced to tell you that you could not love him.
"Please forget your feelings for me." That sentence had almost shattered him. He'd asked you to forget yours because he knew he could never forget his feelings for you.
And ever since that day, he had not. Even after leaving NRC, he continued to dream the softest and most domestic dreams of the two of you. Dreams of shared laughter, dreams of royal life, families, and all the things he could not have with you. These dreams were beautiful, warm, and gave him the greatest joy he had felt since the day you had accepted his courtship.
And yet, every morning this joy was ripped from him. He always awoke alone, to a day of endless tasks and royal duties he had learned very quickly to loathe.
Today he had a diplomatic excursion to NRC- something he had agreed to mindlessly, Crowley having begged asked him to visit his alma mater so as to promote interest in a new course available for students.
What he hadn't considered, however, was that a certain magicless former prefect (and, technically, his ex) was probably still living on Sage's Island. In fact, he had even remotely considered that possibility until he was face to face with said Prefect- now the school nurse.
You.
His body froze up, gaze locked on you from across the room as Crowley mindlessly chattered greetings to him and his retainers- Sebek and Silver ever present for their liege. Nothing else mattered. All he wanted was to leave everything else, scoop you up, and tell you what a fool he'd been to ever listen to the prejudice Fae who thought a human didn't['t deserve to be his royal consort. He so very desperately wanted to beg your forgiveness, to confess that he'd never stopped loving you, that no matter what anyone thought, he didn't care anymore. He was the king, and he was ready to use that as excuse for anything you needed.
But he hesitated a second. A crucial second, one that would've been his downfall. Why? Because of the glint on your left hand. The metallic shimmer of commitment on your left ring finger. Commitment he couldn't muster for you before, given freely by another. The carefully kept sign of belonging, matched by an expression of joy and peace that he instinctively knew would never be from him. Not again.
The sudden thunderstorm caught everyone by surprise, and only Sebek and Silver realized Malleus was now gone. They held their tongues and exited the room quietly, letting the confusion of the weather change distract everyone. Everyone but you.
Not entirely sure how to word this, but I’ve always loved the entire concept of Ghosts as a way to justify a revive/respawn mechanic.
In pretty much every game I’ve ever played that has a revive/respawn mechanic, it’s never explained as to how it works. Which isn’t really that big of a deal to me; it’s a game mechanic that allows you to keep playing the game, case closed.
And then you have Destiny. Get gunned down by a Cabal turret? Your Ghost will have you up in a hot second. Did another Guardian fire a rocket a bit to close to themselves? Go interact with their Ghost to rez them. Did you finally kill that bastard camping an ammo spawn in Trials? Better make sure their teammates can’t get to their Ghost, or they’ll be back up doming you from halfway across the map in seconds.
Except your Ghost is more than just a flying respawn machine. He can hack stuff, mark things on your tracker/radar thingy, oh and he’s an entire character with a personality who reflects the personality of your Guardian, who barely speaks.
The nonverbal communication and interactions in cutscenes between the two are fuckin immaculate. The way Ghost tilts the parts of his shell to express emotions - annoyance, shock, excitement, curiosity… and your Guardian reacts to him usually with a glance or a look, like… idk they just kinda get each other.
But while he is your Ghost, he’s not YOUR Ghost. By which I mean, Ghost is his own, independent character. He’s not a reflection of you or anyone else, and that’s made clear when his opinions and thoughts don’t align with the actions of you as the Guardian. In a lore thing from Forsaken I believe? there is a list of things he wishes he could say to you. One of those things is how he sees that you’re going on a rampage through the Tangled Shore, and justified by the death of Cayde-6 as it may be, he doesn’t like it; it scares him. But he still loves you - that’s also on the list, and even during Beyond Light we see this when he continues to stay by our side even as we start wielding the Darkness in the form of Stasis.
That’s not to say he can’t be vengeful himself. In the lead up to the final boss battle with Savathun during the Witch Queen campaign, Savathun taunts you and your Ghost. This isn’t anything new - bosses taunt you before and during boss fights all the time in Destiny campaigns - and usually you react by wiping the floor with them, without a word in response. Except this time, Ghost is PISSED, essentially says “how fucking dare you, you killed my friends”, lists a bunch of shit the Hive have done to humanity (most of which you personally have been affected by as a combatant against the Hive), and ends off by telling her that he would rather die than serve the Hive.
Speaking of the Witch Queen, we also get to see that Ghost isn’t perfect; he absolutely despises other Ghosts who joined the Hive, and makes that abundantly clear. He’s also extremely suspicious of Fynch, the Hive Ghost who helps you out in the Throne World. Ghost is kind of an ass to Fynch, because to him, the Ghosts who joined the Hive under Savathun betrayed the Traveller and humanity. But when he realizes that most of the Hive Ghosts like Fynch were coerced into helping the Hive in their search for their Guardians, he outright APOLOGIZES to Fynch. It’s actually a pretty cool moment in the story, and it shows like… yeah, he’s capable of making mistakes, but he’s also capable of at least trying to fix them.
Also he was really funny that one time when the Drifter didn’t show up to run tactical for you in Beyond Light, so he did an impression of him instead lmao
Someone asked if writing is lonely and i had to think about it for a really long time. technically yes. you are alone in a room with made-up people and a document and a coffee that went cold an hour ago. but also there are like six characters in there with you and they all have opinions and one of them is being difficult and you're negotiating with someone who doesn't exist about a plot point that affects no one. lonely is not the word i would use. crowded, actually. it is very crowded in here.
Happy Pride Month! Here’s an old fic about genderfluid Yuu (though the only pronouns used in this fic are they/them) This isn’t one of my greatest fics, but I wanted to put out something with genderfluid representation this month
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Jewelry is important in Briar Valley, especially to its royal family. Being dragon fae, one of the most sacred gifts they can give is things from their hoard. This typically manifests itself in the gift of jewelry because gifting straight up jewels and gold doesn’t go over as well these days even among other fae.
Different gems have different meanings, but the two most important ones are emeralds and amethysts. Being the colors of the royal family, they symbolize the desire to court and wed respectively. Malleus knows this tradition very well. Yuu however does not, and this of course leads to shenanigans.
Yuu is fond of jewelry, particularly when it is fancy jewelry. Malleus often compared them to a corvid even before coining their nickname, Stormcrow. And of course Malleus being a dragon fae loves jewelry as well. This shared love of shiny things causes instincts to bubble inside of our dear dragon. Mainly the need to adorn his chosen mate in jewels. The problem is that they are not dating, let alone mates.
So when Yuu and him are wandering around Silk City, mostly looking at market stalls with books and antiques, he is caught off guard when they begin examining some cuff bracelets. They’re thinner than the cuffs the two of them received with their outfits from Kalim, and they’re also silver instead of a light gold. There are three different bracelets, each with slightly different engravings and different gems as details.
The first one had a swirling pattern and amethysts embedded throughout the band. The second appeared more like a starry night sky with blue sapphires in the center of the star engravings. While the third seemed to be inspired by the jasmine flowers that were so popular in the city with emeralds dispersed throughout the finely carved foliage.
“Are you interested in the bracelets, Stormcrow?”Malleus asks, despite the answer being obvious.
Yuu sighs,”Yeah, but there’s no way I can afford even one of them. They’re pure silver and have real gems.”
“May I ask why these in particular interest you? I’ve seen you wear plenty of jewelry, but not many bracelets.”
“Well you know how I’m genderfluid right?”
Malleus nods.
“I used to wear beaded bracelets that my friend made me to indicate my pronouns for the day. I didn’t do it too often though because plastic beads don’t really go with my aesthetic even if I appreciated the gesture. I thought these would work well for that job, but like I said they’re too expensive.”Yuu explains as they walk away from the stall, expecting Malleus to follow them.
However, Malleus is too engaged with fighting his instincts to buy and gift the bracelets to his not yet mate. It would after all be a good courting gift as one of the bracelets has emeralds. The sapphires also are fitting as they represent intelligence, a trait he admires in Yuu. And of course the amethysts are technically a proposal, but they could just be meant as a promise of a proposal in the future.
For once, his instincts make an argument Malleus doesn’t disagree with and he throws more than enough money at the stall owner for the set.
Unfortunately, immediately after purchasing them he begins fretting over how the hell to give the gift to Yuu. I mean he can’t just walk up to them and hand them over, it’s a courting gift.
As he’s stewing in his thoughts outside of the stall, Yuu has returned after realizing that Malleus did not follow them further into the market. They let out an audible sigh of relief when they see that Malleus has not moved.
“Tsunotaro, what are you still doing here?”they ask, somewhat annoyed at almost losing track of him again.
Malleus stares at Yuu and eventually just pushes the box with the three bracelets inside into their hands. He internally curses his awkwardness, but hopes Yuu won’t mind.
Yuu blinks at him before opening the box. They immediately soften when they see the three bracelets,”Oh Malleus, you really didn’t have to buy me these.”
Malleus finally finds his voice,”I wanted to though. You’re important to me and your gender expression is important to you, so I want you to be able to express that in the way you want.”
Yuu actually tears up a bit at that,”Thank you Malleus, really."They put the lid back on the box and pull the dragon fae into a hug.
Malleus is on such a high after the successful interaction that it takes him until he’s back at NRC to remember that Yuu doesn’t know fae courting methods.
He promises himself that he’ll tell them eventually, but in the meantime he’ll just enjoy the sight of his glittering gift on his future mate’s wrist.
CONTAINS ⨾ ( 2.5k+ ) words of . . . nsfw, adrian ‘alucard’ țepeș x vampire!fem!reader ( black coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century ( late 1400s ), established relationship, soft-dom!alucard, nasty rawww freaky ass vampire sex, missionary, blood-letting, blood drinking, size difference, use of pet names ( e.g. love, darling, iubire, etc. ), explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.ᐟ ❥ requested by the lovely @rsv3n! thank you for the splendid idea <3 i think lulu would be veryyy open to a blood-sharing ritual! actually he’s a little too excited, lol >.< he’d love teasing you with that thick, red sweetness, swapping the liquid between your tongues as he fucks you nice 'n deep mmm . . that’s as intimate as can be, and he wants to be irrevocably close to you . plsss hubby is just so in love <3 please enjoy this little blood-stained drabble, and thank you for reading! ❤︎
𝐼𝒩𝒮𝑃𝒪 𝑇𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒦.ᐟ ( ♫ ) drunk in love, beyoncé ⨾ candy, cameo ⨾ a little death, the neighborhood ⨾ whatever you want, tony! toni! toné! ⨾ join me in death, HIM ⨾ blur, the marias
dhampir blood is cloying, to put it best. sticky, syrupy, and far more potent than any mortal vein. your husband had been kind enough to let you drink in that confirmation just hours ago.
castlevania’s ancient stone held the chill of a thousand transylvanian winters, but within alucard’s grand bedroom suite, the air was just about thick enough to tangibly cut through. on the floor lay a forgotten graveyard of finery — stiff silk corsets and a froth of ruffled lace embroidery cast aside in the height of your lustful fever.
with a reverence that treats you like glass, alucard has you laid upon velvet furs, dropping you tenderly as if you weren't immortally powerful. he lowers his own body down to yours, defined and beautifully scarred, until his limbs entwine with your own and the cold of the castle fades into a distant memory.
your skin remains so soft to the touch, holding this otherworldly glow; even after turning into something devoid of life. in the guttering candlelight, his pale skin looks like polished marble, the flickering flame highlighting the pink slash of his flesh scar, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between your cold, pressed bodies. he was only one part mortal, a beautiful contradiction you find it to be — and beneath his ribs, half of a heart still drums a slow, heavy rhythm.
alucard’s hips find their home between your thighs once he finally sinks into you. you bracket the slim taper of his waist with your trembling legs, head throwing back as he presses the slippery crown of his pretty cock past the sticky schism of your puffy lips. you moan so deliciously whenever he enters you, a sound as coaxing as a lullaby; he doubts he’s ever heard anything sweeter.
his wispy blonde lashes flutter whenever your gushing hole contracts just enough to squeeze around the girth of him. he swears your heartbeat never truly left you; it must’ve simply gone down to your cunt, waiting for his touch to call it back to the surface. he begins to press into you with slow, deliberate rocking. it utterly delights him — watching you mewl at the stretch he brings, breasts swaying with each thrust careful thrust he feeds you.
“adrian . . mmm, d—don’t hold back on me,” your plush lips are agape, the sliver of your precise fangs shining as you puff out sultry breaths of air out between them. “please, my love, fuck me faster,” you plead, the soft ache of knowing you can handle him — and that he knows it too — melting thick and heavy between you.
your stiletto claws glide like the flat of a smooth blade over his skin, tearing vivid lines of crimson down the pale, broad canvas of his back. a low chuckle spills from him, dark and sweet like honeycomb, sending a deep, rhythmic throb straight to your core. there’s no need for words; you both know the truth by now. he craves the pain you bring.
“whatever you wish, my dear,” he indulges your request, no matter how bratty your whims might be, and takes a firm hold of your waist; hands locking onto the dipped curve of it, anchoring you to the bed, to him, so he can plow into your sopping pussy until the sharp collision of slapping skin casts the wettest, most lewdest of echoes throughout his bedchamber. your voice breaks into a scream of pure delight, a sweet kind of sound that vibrates through the room, making the wallachian-pine of the bedframe creak and groan beneath every heavy drop he makes into you.
he begins to moan out your name between labored huffs, fangs bared with every breathless moan that slips out from his bobbing throat. adrian lowers his head, a curtain of golden hair cascading around him as his dark gaze fixes on the exact point where he enters you — over, and over, and over again.
you peer up at him lovingly, trace the image of your angel of a husband; watching as the base of his throbbing cock sheathes in deep, just to reappear with every heavy, punctuated drive of his hips. his abdomen flexes tightly with the effort. higher up, his thin brows are drawn up, pearly teeth grit, and his nose scrunched as his eyes squeeze shut in the pure surge of pleasure.
then, your gaze drifts, zoning in on his exposed throat.
you find yourself fixated on the slender, elegant line of his neck, tracing the way it curves seamlessly into his shoulders and collarbone — you’ve always held a soft spot for it, your lips constantly drawn to kiss and nuzzle the skin there. the sloping protrusion of his adam’s apple catches your gaze of how he swallows down his pooling desire, all as you eye that subtle vein running along the side, pulsing with every breath.
the curiosity has lived in you for so long — the wonder of what a dhampir’s blood might taste like . . . what alucard’s would taste like. as the intensity between you builds, your dilated eyes blow wide, mouth parting as you fixate on his neck. your focus narrows entirely on the way the veins running along it grow prominent, with all the exertion he’s putting into fucking his darling wife so, so well.
your husband’s always had the uncanny ability to anticipate your thoughts, even before you act on them. his eyes snap open, catching you in the act of staring — as if the sudden, ebbing heat in his flowing arteries have already warned him exactly where you want to bite.
the hammering pulse in his throat begins to thrum harder.
“ah, you thirst . . . is that it, my love? shall I grab a chalice?” he delivers an especially grinding thrust, pairing it with the humble swipe of his thumb over your clit. you whine, you nod, you weep, all from the sheer pleasure of it.
your head tosses against the pillows, the thorny edge of your nails sinking into his shoulder blades until fresh, bright blood spills and beads over your grip. it takes everything in your being to keep your hands from drifting up to your awaiting tongue.
“hnnn! y-yes, but I . . . I want yours,” you manage to gasp the words out, even as the heavy force of his rhythm knocks the breath right from your lips. your eyes lock — your glassy, completely dilated gaze catching the piercing gold of his. in that silent, breathless look, everything clicks.
he finally gets it.
“you — haah, you wish to taste of me?” adrian questions, leaning down low, slowing his thrusts and fucking into you harder, deeper, as if to pound the truth out of you. you nod, teary and needy, hands trailing up to caress either side of his neck, warming his silken skin with your open palms.
“mhm,” you whisper, “i’m sure you’re sweeter than any wine . . .” your teeth catch your bottom lip, aching for the moment his potent blood finally drips onto your tongue. your ribbed, velvety walls clench around him at the mere thought, a sudden sensation that ripples through you both. adrian feels your pulse throb in perfect tandem against his skin as his hips continue their slow, heavy roll.
“fuck,” he manages out, the word torn from his throat. he never imagined a desire so dark would excite him so. “for how long have you yearned for this?”
“far too long, my love,” you mewl against his skin, pressing stray, wet kisses up the length of his neck. your fangs lightly graze his sweat-sheened throat, catching right over his adam’s apple. you suck gently against the pulse point, the sharp friction causing him to twitch and jump deep inside you with a sudden, ragged gasp.
“resist no longer, iubire.” he whines lowly, the muscles of his thighs and core flexing hard against you with every deep shove. “take what you want.”
alucard gathers his long blond hair in one hand, sweeping the heavy tresses over his shoulder to bare the smooth expanse of his neck. you gaze up at him, mapping the absolute submission written on his face. his golden irises gleam back at you in the dark, glinting with a sharp, needy excitement as he waits to feel your fangs against his skin.
as if to soothe your hesitation, he implores you with the breath of a command against your skin:
"drink of me." he whispers, his voice a low, heavy vibration that seems to echo through the silent stones of the chamber. it does well at reassuring you. sliding up the smooth, warm expanse of his neck in your hands, you bring your lips to his skin, agape mouth brushing his artery with a grateful sort of reverence. leaning in, you allow your fangs to graze the hot skin of his jugular, tracking the frantic ba-dum of the pulse that marks his human heritage.
when you finally, finally, bite down, alucard lets out the sharpest, most ragged breath, his hands locking onto your hips as he bucks up into you at the welcome intrusion. his rich dhampir blood surges into your mouth — a potent, velvety syrup that tastes of concentrated life and a deep, metallic sweetness that coats your tongue like the most saccharine nectar.
“hngh, y—yes, yes, yes . . .” his eyes scroll back into his head as you cradle his beautiful face in your hands, completely helpless under your touch as you drain him, lapping his blood hungrily into your mouth. the fluid is intoxicatingly rich and warm, sliding down your throat like a heavy, golden essence that could only belong to a dhampir. he trembles beneath you, utterly consumed by the way your tongue sweeps along his major artery, siphoning every sugary drop of the rich blood he so willingly surrenders to you.
you let out a soft, gratified moan at the cloying sweetness of him; though not entirely drinking every ounce he offers. you hold some of the thick velvet syrup behind your teeth — gathering just enough in your mouth to perform the next ritual you have in mind. pulling back just by an inch, you meet his gaze with a heavy, unblinking focus, your plush mouth stained with the red coppery-taste of his life-force.
alucard blinks down at you hazily, his golden eyes blown out and dazed as he groans against your lips. when you finally press your mouth back to his, the exchange is thick, visceral, and wet; nasty and lawless, just as vampires would do.
your fangs clash against his — a sharp clicking of ivory, as you share a desperate kiss that blends salt and iron. the rich essence slicks your tongues, and alucard greedily drinks his life-force straight back from your mouth.
alucard tilts his hips into yours with a slow, grinding force, his large frame pinning you flat against sheets of romanian silk as he slides back deep inside you.
his hands find yours against the soft bedding, his long fingers sliding between your own to intertwine and lock your palms tightly together. the direct friction of his thighs against yours generates a building heat that matches the warm syrup coating your tongues.
he pulls back just an inch, his eyes glowing a fierce gold in the dim light as he gives one final, bone-deep shove that leaves you both trembling. his lips are stained a deep, beautiful red, mirroring your own.
“never thought my wife would be so . . . thirsty,” he muses, swiping his tongue over your lips. you can feel him smiling against them, a soft and intimate pressure.
you’re nearing closer to the edge, all from the searing taste of his blood, every sensation amplified to a fever pitch. he is also hazy from the feeding, his movements turning drawled and heavy as he rolls into you.
“c–cumming,” he huffs, grinding his pelvis down into yours one last. “mmm . . me too,” you clasp your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a messily wet kiss as your walls pull taut around him, reaching your coiling climax with a silent scream released straight into his mouth.
he returns the intensity, fucks shallowly into your gripping cunt; spilling thick, lukewarm ribbons of his heavy load deep inside you. you both rock into each other, riding the high of it all with shut eyes, panting into each other’s mouths until the heat finally peaks. adrian lifts himself off of you to lay beside you, his strong arms coiled around your waist to pull you close against his chest.
side-by-side in the stillness of the chamber, you lay curled together on the plush bedding. the ancient castle grows still, though the heat of the moment remains between you. he drowsily blinks his heavy eyes open, his cheeks a beautiful, shaded rose that deepens into a rich crimson. his mouth is slightly agape, the lower lip stained with the bright, copper taint of his own life-force.
“you still look rather . . . parched, my love.” his hand slides up to caress your waist, his smile widening slightly as he offers you his bare throat. his fingertips trace the wet bite marks on his neck, marveling a bit at the funny, new sensation of being on the receiving end of those punctured holes. knowing the wounds will knit together soon, he silently urges you to lean back in and get some your fill before his flesh heals over.
“come, dragă mea,” he insists, pulling you in closer by your waist until you're flush against him. bringing his thumb up, he slowly swipes it over your reddened lip, his mirthful golden eyes searching yours.
I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture.
All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line?
The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy?
Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess.
I want the fat left it.
I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence.
Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."
We're having a Jazzy July here at the Prompt Foundry in 2026!
Sit down at the bar or the piano, grab a drink or a dance partner, and let the music move you!
Feel free to combine different days’ prompts with each other, or combine them with other events, like last year's Dancing In December for a little music-and-dance double feature, or Aug-UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension) from 2024 to really plus up the sensual potential. Draw, paint, sculpt, sing, write fiction, write poetry, write academic analysis—use your OCs, your favorite characters from media, your own experiences, whatever tickles your fancy.
If you use this list, please tag me here @thepromptfoundry, I’d love to see what you create!
Respond to as many prompts as you want or as interest you, don’t worry about missing or skipping any, or posting your work after the day the prompt is assigned to. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!
If you have any questions or musings, check our FAQ, and if you don’t find your answer, shoot me an ask.
Plain text list below the cut:
1 Swing Time
2 Speakeasy
3 First Instrument
4 Midnight Music
5 Songwriting
6 Warm Radio
7 Battle of the Bands
8 Playing Together
9 Private Show
10 Torch Singer
11 Beads and Fringe
12 Quartet
13 Cards, Dice, and Dominoes
14 Self-Taught Artist
15 Busking
16 Music in the Rain
17 Tap Dance
18 Patent Leather Shoes
19 Rent Party
20 Sounds of the City
21 Improvisation
22 Sax and Bass
23 Record Crackle
24 The Regular Crowd
25 Tickling the Keys
26 The Blues
27 Rouged Lips
28 Duet
29 Drinking and Dancing
30 Dreams Deferred
31 Party at the End of the World
The thing about a good character flaw is that it has to be the same thing as their greatest strength just turned up too high. the person who loves deeply and therefore controls. the person who sees everything and therefore trusts nothing. the person who is so loyal they lose themselves. there are no clean villains and no clean heroes and once you understand that in fiction you can't unsee it in people. everyone is just their best quality at the wrong volume.