#moranormoron

[mischieflawed]

💖

Send a 💖 if your muse finds my muse attractive.

❝ And that's why you bought me breakfast, instead of beating my ass when I stole your wallet..❞

[fangsforhire]

@moranormoron bared their pretty throat : ❛ give me something worth living for , ❜

His chest tightened at the plea, sharp as any knife. For a moment, he only stared, caught in the enormity of it — Sebastian asking him, of all beings, for a reason to live. He’d watched empires fall, kings rot, lovers turn to dust. He’d seen eternity stretch out empty and cruel. And still, here was this man, looking at him as if he could anchor him to something more than survival. He moved forward slowly, deliberately, until there was no space left between them. His hand rose to cradle Sebastian’s face, thumb brushing over skin with reverence that bordered on worship. His eyes softened, burning not with hunger but with something rarer, something raw.

‘You already have it,’ he murmured, voice low, rough, carrying the weight of centuries stripped bare. ‘Me.’ His forehead pressed to Sebastian’s, his breath mingling with his, steady and grounding. ‘I’ve wandered through lifetimes with nothing worth holding onto. No reason. No light. But you—’ His fingers tightened gently, not possessive but desperate. ‘You are the only thing that makes all of it bearable. You are my reason. And I will be yours, if you’ll let me.’

Then, softer still, like a vow carved into eternity: ‘Live for me, Sebastian. And I’ll give you everything that I am.’

[naughtynecromancer]

'I really don’t want to be the guy who dies in the first ten minutes of the movie because he’s like, “You know what? Let’s take out the Ouija board. What could possibly go wrong?” '

Mori giggled softly at him, her nose scrunching at the bridge, the sound like silver bells tinkling softly over green hills as she shook her head, pointing to herself with a mischievous smile. "First off, Necromancer, so you would be dead all of like five seconds, but that fact aside, I really don't like Ouija boards or trust them, so none of that for you. You're the final girl babe, you last til the end." She teased him playfully with a smile as she looked up at him.

[fangsforhire]

moranormoron  bared their pretty throat : “Is asking for cuddles afterwards really too much for you?”

‘Fuck.’ Every instinct within him was a cacophony of alarms, urging him to flee, to escape the unfamiliar warmth and after-care being offered. It was an alien comfort, a foreign kindness he had never been granted before, and that made it terrifying beyond measure. ( If there was one thing he detested, it was affection. ) Cast out from his home, he had spent centuries in the desolate embrace of solitude, only to be discovered by Mephistopheles, the most malevolent of demons. Mephistopheles’ version of after-care was to unceremoniously dump him in frigid water, and that was on a good day. But now, the world had shifted, and in this new scene, it was expected that after punishments and play, there would follow sweet, tender reassurances, soft caresses, gentle praise. Oh, how he loathed it.

His fingers twitched at the mere thought of accepting the embrace Sebastian offered, his body wound tight, far from relaxed, despite the many waves of intense pleasure that had surged through him. ( Sebastian had no idea what he was asking for; how utterly excruciating it was to be held and accept comfort when his existence had been shaped by a world of cruelty. ) Not to mention, being gentle was not second nature to him; he could so easily hold Sebastian too tightly, crush him in a moment of overwhelming emotion. Could Sebastian not comprehend how dangerous he could be?

‘Fuck yes, I don’t need cuddles. I need a drink and a fucking smoke… if you wanna hold something, grab a bloody pillow.’

[fangsforhire]

@moranormoron bared their pretty throat : ' it's you, isn't it? you've come to kill me. ' ( I REGRET NOTHING - P A I N )

His breath rasped harshly against the confining mask he wore, or perhaps "muzzle" was a more fitting term. HYDRA, notorious for their inventive ways of dehumanising an asset, had truly outdone themselves the moment they recaptured him. ( They had flooded his veins with hallucinogens, dragging him once more into the abyss of madness through relentless torture. ) He clung to sanity for as long as he could, feeling his grip on reality slip away. That was the crux of the problem; it was never just him in his mind. Once he began to disassociate, they had him exactly where they wanted, rendering him utterly powerless. 

Numerous fresh scars marred his skin, stark evidence of his fierce resistance, and even now, he continued to fight as he stood before Sebastian, weapon drawn and aimed. ( Every nerve in his body was ablaze, his vision wavered, and his breath came in ragged bursts. If choice were his, he would never have resorted to this—he adored Sebastian, revered the very ground he walked upon. ) Yet, scant recognition sparkled in his eyes, which were hollow and fixed. They had wiped him, of course, at the first opportunity, but only after shattering him, leaving behind merely a shadow of the man he once was. 

Who was that? Who was he?

[fangsforhire]

moranormoron bared their pretty throat : “Where are you even leaving to, this is your house.”

‘Thank you, Captain Obvious.’

The words dripped with sarcasm, a natural defense mechanism that flowed effortlessly from his lips. In the heat of the moment, he had momentarily forgotten that crucial piece of information: this was his house. ( He had invited Sebastian into his home, and now, in a fit of dramatic flair, he was storming toward the front door, intent on grabbing his jacket and slamming it shut with a theatrical bang. ) It was the kind of explosive exit you saw in movies, one that certainly made a point.

But then, where would he go? The pub? He wasn't in the mood to ignite a bar fight, surprisingly enough. The park? He'd likely end up committing some act of criminal damage in his frustration. ( A groan escaped him as his hands flew into the air, reminiscent of a child who'd just been told they were grounded. ) At the last moment, he changed course, heading for the bathroom instead. The door banged shut with satisfying force, and he felt a surge of juvenile pride. 

Yes, that would do nicely.

[fangsforhire]

Sat on a train cackling at Sebastian. Oh boy.

[fangsforhire]

moranormoron  bared their pretty throat : "I might regret this after the hangover, but right now, I need you to know that… being with you feels like home."

‘I—’

He felt the weight of sentiment pressing down on him, a heaviness he had long avoided. Those distant days when he convinced himself he was untouchable and incapable of connection had faded into oblivion. ( Now, a torrent of emotions churned within him, more vivid and intense than anything most humans could fathom, and he grappled with the truth of what to do with them. ) But Sebastian’s quiet confession struck a different chord entirely. It pierced through the haze with an acute vulnerability, a glimpse into the heart of someone who had laid it all bare, his disheveled appearance revealing the lingering effects of the night’s indulgence.

Lucien fought to maintain his composure, initially responding with a soft, thoughtful hum that filled the charged silence. ( His fingers moved instinctively, weaving through the tousled strands of the sniper's hair, massaging his scalp with a tenderness that felt foreign yet necessary. ) In that moment, all his bravado evaporated, leaving him feeling uncharacteristically exposed, as if his very soul was stripped away, naked and raw.

‘I... am your home... you know? And you, you’re mine.’