#[this blog is just a bit...undead...]

[undermostcorgi]

drawing other people's dnd characters based on the image i made of them in my head and NOTHING ELSE because i'm evil

[pasta-pardner]

rifp jawnbie month, you will be missed.

we now return to our regularly scheduled cowboyposting.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Bloodlove

AN: I'm a JJAM hater but, when I saw these clips of HyunSung...I couldn't help myself. I have a million other fics I'm working on but, HyunSung will always take priority lol. Also, I do want to make more banners for my fics but, I couldn't find many pictures of the two of them with (fake) blood smeared on their faces so, we're going to have to settle for the classic three photos for this one. Can't believe it's taken me this long to post something HyunSung focused.

Synopsis: The two strange men that you've developed a bit of an...odd relationship with decide to pay you another visit. They're especially famished tonight.

General tags and warnings: Hwang Hyunjin x Han Jisung x Fem! Reader, Hyunjin and Jisung are vampires, lots of blood and biting involved, they initially enter Reader's home without her consent, acquaintances to potential lovers lol?, they're all in love/infatuated with each other your honour and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: dubcon if you squint since Reader does all of this after HyunSung drink a substantial amount of her blood and there's one joke about compulsion but, it's not brought up after that and there's no actual compelling that happens, lots of blood and kissing with blood, lots of biting, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unintentional temperature play because they're undead, breast and nipple play (f. receiving), HyunSung being able to smell Reader's arousal, pussy sniffing once (f. receiving), dirty talk, Reader getting teary eyed, mxm but it's only kissing in this but, it's implied HyunSung have done more, petnames, manhandling (they have super strength because, y'know, vampires), piv sex without a condom, dirty talk, clawing, creampies, lots of cum, cumplay of sorts, Reader realises in real time she might have a creampie kink, unrealistic sex because they're vampires lol, marking, bruising, brief mentions of masturbation and implied aftercare.

Word count: 5.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

The first thing you register is your heart thundering in your ribcage the moment you jolt out of your sleep. Bringing your shaky hand to your chest, you're not sure what startled you awake: the storm raging outside your bedroom window or whatever nightmare you were experiencing that's already rapidly fading from your memory. Your mind is having difficulty catching up to the anxiety still fresh in your veins. Remnants of sleep making everything hazy and disorientated at the edges. 

“Bad dream?” 

You nearly jump out of your skin when you finally notice the two figures who have seemingly made themselves at home on your windowsill. You nearly scream out of reflex but, your brain boots up in time to inform you that your home isn't being invaded and the two men lounging in your bedroom are not strangers. Well, they are but, not really. Half-strangers? Acquaintances? You're not sure what you'd categorise your relationship as but, it's somewhere between more than acquaintances but, definitely less than friends. 

“What are you two doing here?” You hiss, struggling to make them out in your dark room with the moon and city lights being of little help. Shooting them a deeply unamused glare while you attempt to calm your racing heart and lessen the anxiety still circulating in your system. 

“What, we can't pay our favourite girl a visit?” asks the shorter man. It may be dark but, you can see Jisung's grin clear as day. You decidedly ignore the implications of his phrasing of ‘favourite girl’ because you're already dealing with far too much right now and you doubt it's even 4 a.m. 

“I doubt you're here for just a visit,” you mumble under your breath, reaching for the water bottle you keep on your nightstand. Taking a generous sip that significantly helps you feel better and less like a mess of stress and dehydration. 

“Are you complaining? That'd be a first,” the taller man chimes in, amusement colouring his voice and heating your blood in a way you're not sure you'll ever be ready to think too much about. The awful part is, he's not wrong. Whatever this…arrangement the three of you have has gone on without any hitches for months now. You're not sure why you let them slip into your apartment and drink from you. In the few instances that you've really sat with yourself and attempted to find out why, nothing that feels valid has come up. Pity? Who pities vampires of all people? A sense of duty? What duty should you feel to strangers? A gesture of kindness? You'd like to think you're a decent person but, this is far beyond the scope of simple generosity. 

So, what is it? 

“I'm complaining because you two snuck into my room while I was asleep and scared the shit out of me. Usually you do this while I'm, you know, awake and with some kind of head's up,” you respond, setting your bottle back down and looking at the two men. Well, they're far beyond ordinary men but, the word ‘vampire’ still feels so foreign on your tongue and even in your thoughts. The two of them have always seemed deeply connected to each other from the moment they approached you that fateful Friday night. Moving towards you like a well-oiled machine, their steps in time with one another. 

“Sorry,” at least Hyunjin has the decency to sound half-sincere but, the hunger in his eyes betrays him, “We're just starving and it's been a month,” is the explanation he offers as though you three haven't been doing this for months now. What an absurd turn your life has taken. If you ever found the courage to tell Minho and Seungmin about this, you're certain your best friends would think you'd watched the Twilight movies one too many times and have certifiably lost your mind. They wouldn't be entirely wrong either. 

Shoving your heavy blanket to the side, you expose your body for them to ogle thoroughly. You don't have to look up at them to know they're burning holes into you right now. The excitement from them is palpable. It rolls off of them in waves. You still haven't quite managed to not feel on edge after all this time but, it's not fear or dread that churns in the pit of your stomach. 

“Well, I'm ready. Have it,” is all you say, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You're sure the two of them would never harm you but, you've made it a habit to keep these…sessions as clinical as possible. Holding them at a safe distance. Which, frankly, sounds insane since they regularly invade your personal space to drink your blood. Maybe you have lost it and this is all a months long hallucination. 

Jisung startles you out of your thoughts by placing a cool hand on your thigh. Goosebumps erupt on your skin instantaneously and you resist the impulse to shudder when his molten eyes find yours, “I'm just gonna move you a little. Make both of us a little more comfortable,” and just like that you find yourself tugged to the edge of your bed as though you were the same weight as a feather. His display of strength prompts you to claw at your sheets briefly. The first time he did this, you thought it was all a ploy to get you into bed but, true to his word, he really was only interested in your blood. You tried not to let your disappointment show at the time. Now, as his fingers ghost over your thighs and he kneels between them, dragging his nose along your inner thigh, it's still so incredibly hard not to let your thoughts wander. 

Thankfully, you've grown accustomed to the pain so, you only flinch minimally when he sinks his fangs into your skin. The groan that drags itself out of the depths of his chest goes decidedly ignored by you. Hyunjin slinks his way behind you, long fingers gently tilting your head to the side for easier access. His approach is what you'd been expecting the first time. The classic vampire. In the glimpses you've gotten of the two, Hyunjin does seem like more of the idea of a vampire you've been fed since you were eleven. His hair tickles the parts of your skin it touches, providing some reprieve from the pinch his bite brings. 

You've always wondered why they do this together. Why not have their own individual moment with you? To feed from you? Maybe this just helps them save time. Maybe it's some weird vampire bylaw that you're too human to understand. It's such an odd sensation feeling your blood leave your body this way. Even now, it's dizzying and fogs up your brain. It doesn't help that they seem especially hungry tonight so, they're drinking much faster than you've grown used to. It's not unpleasant, though. Just…different. Still a touch unfamiliar. 

Surprisingly, Jisung is the first one to stop. He isn't exactly the best at showing restraint.  The handful of times Hyunjin has had to butt in by either forcibly telling him to stop or dragging him by his hair off of you speak for themselves. So, you're left a little confused when he unlatches himself from your thigh of his own freewill and looks up at you. Something horrible, animalistic and wanton simmers in the pit of your stomach when you notice the fresh blood generously smeared across his lips and parts of his cheeks. Your blood is all over his handsome face while he's staring at you from between your thighs. It was easier before. When he'd just drink your blood, heal you with his saliva and disappear with Hyunjin into the night. Having him here, looking like this is far more than you can take.  

“I can smell you, you know,” he says, a lazy drawl in his voice and you notice the drop in octave immediately. His eyes that are usually alight with hunger look different. They burn with something else entirely. A different kind of hunger that makes your heart leap into your throat and your pussy pulse. 

“Wh-What?” comes your intelligent reply, “Smell me?” you'd like to think you're trying your best with the loop you've been thrown for. 

Hyunjin chooses then to stop feeding off of you. This time, you fail spectacularly at shoving down the shudder that runs down your spine when his cool breath hits the shell of the ear. The smell of your blood drifting to your nostrils, invading your senses, “He means he can smell how aroused you are,” he whispers into your ear as if Jisung can't hear him perfectly well from where he's kneeling. 

His words shatter your brain for a few seconds. All you can do is blink while your brain attempts to make sense of what they've both said. The lack of blood isn't helping. True to fiction, you know their smelling abilities are far beyond that of any human. Sparse conversation over the time you've been doing this has clued you in enough but, it didn't occur to you that that particular ability could be used beyond smelling blood. 

“We don't want to scare you,” Hyunjin mutters gently, large hands ghosting over your waist but, not providing you with the relief of actually touching you. You wonder, briefly, whether compulsion is one of their powers too because the lull in his voice causes your lids to droop and your stomach to twist in a way that isn't wholly unpleasant. “It's just– we– you– you're something else,” he pauses for a second and you're not sure if it's to collect himself or something else entirely, “We haven't felt this way about someone in decades.” The pure yearning in his tone throws you completely. Your eyes widening as you try and process everything he's said while your blood trickles out of you. 

“We?” you ask in only what can be described as a combination of awe and confusion, glancing at the man between your thighs whose scorching gaze hasn't left you and Hyunjin for a second. Your blood is still all over his face. 

“Yes,” Jisung answers immediately and you've never heard one word carry so much weight, “Why do you think we only come to you? Why we only drink from you?” 

You thought the whole them being vampires and drinking from you thing was a lot but, this is a whole different league. Hyunjin allows himself to gently lay his hand on you in what you can only assume is a gesture meant to ease your nerves but, it does the complete opposite. “I didn't know you two only fed off of me,” you whisper, trying your best to gather your bearings. Fiddling with your sheets and avoiding looking at either of them in the hopes that you don't say or do something incredibly stupid. Well, more stupid. 

“I'm– I need to know what you two want from you,” you whisper, afraid that if you speak any louder that you'll shatter the delicate bubble the three of you are in. 

“We just want you,” Jisung answers without a second thought and you wonder just how many times the two of them have spoken about this. “In whatever way you'll let us have you,” Hyunjin adds just as quickly but, no less passionately. His grip on you tightening but, his loosens it before you can even blink. 

You blink harshly. Stars dancing behind your eyelids. You really are about to do something very, very dumb, aren't you? 

“I don't know what I want from this. From you two but, I–I um think I want to see where this goes. So, o–okay,” you whisper, still not looking at either of them. Your heart races when Hyunjin carefully grasps your face so, you have no choice but, to look at him. The hunger and lust you somewhat expected to be present in his eyes are there but, there's a quiet softness in them too that's making it really difficult for you to breathe, “We'll take it slow, okay?” He assures you, leaning down and giving you ample time to tell him no or push him away but, you don't. Because you want this. You want him. You want Jisung. You want them. 

Surprising perhaps everyone in the room, you close the distance between the two of you. You kiss him clumsily and are a little taken aback to taste your blood on his lips but, it's not off-putting. In fact, you might even like it a little. Hyunjin doesn't give you much time to ponder on that thought because he's kissing you back with so much enthusiasm, large hands making themselves at home on your waist, palming every inch of you he can. You gasp into his mouth when you feel Jisung licking at his bite marks, closing them up. Hyunjin's tongue snakes its way into your mouth just as Jisung litters your inner thigh with sticky, bloodied kisses. 

“Is it okay if I taste you?” He asks and you're not sure you could answer him properly even without Hyunjin's seeming determination not to let your mouth free. Whether it's the lack of oxygen and blood going to your brain, you feel just the slightest bit delirious and with delirium apparently comes confidence. Your hand finds the hem of your sleeping gown easily and you tug it up your thighs haphazardly, exposing as much of your slick folds to him as you can and hoping he takes the very obvious green light. 

Fortunately for both of you, Jisung is not an idiot and he snatches the invitation as readily as you offer it. Hyunjin let's you have a moment to breathe just as Jisung shoves himself impossibly close to you, acting as though there's no other place he'd rather be than with his head between your thighs and his hands burning imprints into them. “You smell so good,” Hyunjin groans behind you, pressing bloody kisses into your neck and lapping up the blood that's trickled out of you and dried on your skin. Large hands softly kneading your tits over your gown, drinking in every reaction you offer to both of them. 

“She smells even better here,” Jisung comments before pressing his nose into your pussy and inhaling deeply. Embarrassment and desire heat your face and make your walls clench in equal parts. “Ji–Jisung,” you hiss but, it sounds more like a whimper than anything else. He doesn't respond but, you feel him smirk against you. Watching you like a hawk as he takes his first taste of you, his tongue dragging itself from your entrance to your clit. His firm grasp keeps you from bucking your hips into his face. “I bet you taste wonderful, sweetheart,” Hyunjin drawls against your skin, dragging his fangs along your neck while he tugs your gown down to let your tits bounce free. He laughs breathlessly into your neck when Jisung hums in conformation. “Maybe I'll get to taste you later too,” he whispers and you don't have much time to dwell on the thought because Jisung starts lapping at your clit with unabashed enthusiasm. 

Hyunjin keeps you thoroughly in his grasp when your body attempts to jolt from the flurry of sensations its hit with. You couldn't stop the drawn out moans and curses that fall from your lips even if you wanted to. Your eyes flutter and wetness further smears Jisung's face with every kiss and lick. Hyunjin, for his part, has grown thoroughly infatuated with your tits. Kneading them in his massive hands and groaning into your skin every time he toys with your nipples to gauge what you like the best. You think he nearly bites you again when he discovers a drag of his thumbs is all it takes for you to mewl in his hold and seek out his mouth. He readily kisses you. Pouring what you can only imagine is months worth of frustration and desire into this kiss. You can practically taste it. Well, that and your blood. 

He steadies you when Jisung presses two fingers against your dripping entrance. You can feel the way he watches you slowly swallow them. They slip in easily given how beyond wet you are and the strained ‘fuck’ that he whispers makes you grip him tighter. They feel…odd. Not uncomfortable or unwelcome but, just different from what you're used to. Their coolness is foreign but, Jisung uses that to his advantage given how scorching your walls are. “Fuck,” he moans against your pussy, giving your clit a second to breathe, “How is everything about you so good? You taste good, you feel even better,” he mutters, a bit fucked out before knocking the wind out of you by sucking on you while dragging his cold fingers along your sensitive walls. 

“Hyun-Hyunjin,” you cry into his mouth, grasping his forearm for…what? You don't know but it helps. “I've got you, my angel,” he replies without a second thought, nipping at your bottom lip while his hands and Jisung's mouth and fingers force you closer to an edge you hadn't even realised you were approaching. 

When did your other hand find its way into Jisung's hair? 

The thought evaporates from your mind the moment Jisung's fingers find the spot inside of that causes your vision to dance and your thighs to clamp around his head. Not that he minds even the slightest bit. He seems more determined with etching the taste of your pussy into his taste buds and bringing you to the brink of insanity with his fingers. Hyunjin greedily swallows all of the noises the two of them pluck from you. Only stopping when you have to separate for air, not that his mouth leaves you. Immediately attaching itself to every part of your shoulder he can reach. Heavy eyes watching the way your tits fill his hands and the way your back bows when he pinches your nipples a touch too harshly. 

“Hyun–Ji–I'm so–I think–” your tongue feels like it weighs a million kilograms all of a sudden and, it's really, really hard to speak or think beyond the two men touching and tasting you. “It's okay, beloved,” Hyunjin hushes against your neck, “You want to let go for us, don't you?” you're not sure what sounds more tempting: his suggestion or his voice. “You want to cum for us, right?” He continues, giving your tits an especially harsh squeeze and rutting his hard cock against your lower back, “Cum all over Sungie’s face while I play with your beautiful tits, huh?” 

Something within you snaps. Whether it's your sanity or the proverbial knot in the pit of your stomach, you're not sure but, you become undone within an instant. You don't think you've ever cum this hard in your life. Everything sounds distant and feels hazy but, you do feel Hyunjin and Jisung keeping you from totally crumpling onto your bed. Vaguely, you make out one of them saying ‘pretty’ and what you assume is another one of them saying ‘so hot.’ You're not sure how long it takes for you to come back to yourself but, eventually, you do. Blinking open bleary eyes to find Jisung staring at you with a mess of your wetness and blood all over the lower half of his face. It's easily the hottest image you've ever seen in your life and you hope you never forget it. 

“You okay?” Hyunjin asks behind you, large hands having drifted from your tits to soothing run along your waist while you attempt to steady your breathing and stop your thighs from shaking. “Ye-Yeah,” you reply, cringing a little at the hoarseness in your voice, “That was just um a lot and I need a–a second but, I'm good,” you finish, giving them a weak smile that you hope conveys that you are really okay despite the way your thighs quiver. 

“Thank fuck. I was worried we might have gone too far,” Jisung pipes up for the first time in what feels like ages. The depth of his voice makes your stomach drop and you bite back a whimper at the way your sensitive pussy reacts to him. Could your body give you a second? You just came, Jesus Christ. 

“Come here.” 

The words shake you out of your thoughts and you think he's talking to you but, before you can blink he's on his feet and dragging Hyunjin into a mess of spit and tongue by his hair. All you can do is watch the two of them with your mouth parted and your fingers attempting to find leverage in your sheets. You were so wrong. This is easily the hottest image you've ever seen in your fucking life. Your clit throbs and walls clench when Jisung pulls away and pins you down with a look that's far too knowing and smug for your liking. “What? Don't look at me like that,” he has the nerve to sound amused while you're sitting here already wound up. Again. “I just wanted Jinnie to have a taste of your sweet pussy, that's all,” he licks his upper lip for good measure and you're pretty sure you've never wanted to throttle someone more than right now.

“He wasn't wrong,” Hyunjin groans into your ear, his hands gripping your hips fiercely, pressing you against him and making you feel the outline of his cock, “You taste…divine,” the reverence in his voice makes goosebumps arise on your skin and you honestly think you might die if you don't have the two of them right now. 

“Please, please I want–I need to feel both of you. It hurts. I feel so empty and I'm so wet–”

Hyunjin and Jisung seemingly have no reservations about taking the next step in whatever the three of you have because you're blinking up at them within a flash, both of their eyes flashing with intent and want so visceral that your heart leaps in your chest. Hyunjin is the first to move. Positioning himself between your thighs and descending on your mouth immediately. “You have no idea how long we've been waiting for this,” he mutters before pulling away from you. You're about to complain but, he discards your gown faster than you can process. Leaving you totally exposed to the two of you.

“You're so beautiful,” Jisung whispers from somewhere above you and, your eyes catch his as he lounges against your headboard. He shoots you a lazy smile and it does terrible things to your heart. Before you can dwell too much about why he's sitting there you hear rustling and focus your attention back on Hyunjin. 

You're thoroughly unprepared for the sight of a shirtless Hyunjin impatiently tugging his pants and boxers down his slender hips. Seeing him without a shirt is earth shattering in its own right but, watching the way his hand wraps around his cock makes your bedroom spin a little. He has the audacity to shoot you a little grin like his cock isn't inches away from your weeping entrance and you don't hear Jisung's own staggered breathing behind you. His eyes never leave your face. Even as he shuffles closer to you. Even when his hands gently rest against your thighs. Even when his cock rests on your pussy. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers, dragging his cock along your slit and your body jolts totally without your consent when his tip brushes against your clit. “Ah, yes. Yes. Hyunjin please just–” you words are halted by a gasp when he slowly starts to push into you. You shouldn't be shocked at this point but, he's colder than you expect. And longer. And thicker. You can barely make out his face in the haze you're in and all you can do is let your mouth hang open when he finally bottoms out. His grip on your thighs tightens and his hand finds a home in the hollow of your throat while he gives you a bit to adjust to stretch. 

Without much thought, your hands find his broad back and he must read that as some sort of sign because he's pulling out before snapping back inside of you after that. The air is punched out of your lungs but, he continues. Gradually finding a pace that has your toes curling and your nails digging into the cool skin of his back. “You can claw at me all you want,” he whispers in your ear. Chuckling at the way your pussy tightens around him and your fingers follow his suggestion without your prompting. “I'm not one of those mortals,” he continues, “I can take it.” 

And so you do. Basking in the freedom of letting him know just how much you're enjoying being fucked on his cock and his hands more than likely leaving your thighs bruised. The thought of covered in their marks makes your pussy clench and you can't help but, wish they were both touching you right now. 

Hyunjin kisses down your neck until he reaches one of your tits. Covering them in kisses and licks. Grazing them with his fangs and delighting in the way you shudder underneath him. You're a woman on a mission, though. Turning your head until you find Jisung's hooded eyes and his hand around his cock. The sight makes your lips part and even more of your wetness gush onto Hyunjin's cock. 

“Ji–Jisung,” you whine trying your best to look at his handsome face but, it's incredibly challenging when his pretty cock is right there. “Want you too ah,” you manage to gasp out just as Hyunjin sinks his fangs into your tit, sipping on your blood while his pace increases and the obscene sounds of him fucking you echo through your bedroom. Jisung doesn't respond at first. Perhaps needing a second. Then, before you can blink, he's leaning down and devouring you whole with his mouth. Swallowing all of your mewls and whimpers and moans as though he needs them to live. 

“You're killing me here, baby,” he groans against your lips when he finally remembers you need air, “I want nothing more than to fuck you with Jinnie but, we don't know if you'll be able to take it. Maybe next time, okay?” He soothes, toying with your hair and giving you a smile that's filled with promise. You want to tell him you can. You can more than take both of them right now but, you can barely think coherently let alone speak so, all you do is pout and nod in resignation. “Don't give me that look,” he laughs, kissing you once again, “I'll make love to you as soon as Jinnie is done.” 

You may not be experiencing them at the same time but, you can live with them both…making love to you as Jisung put it. He leaves you with one more kiss, letting you focus on the other vampire currently, painstakingly slowly drinking from your tit while he snaps his hips into you. You never thought you'd want them to drink from you so badly but, watching the way Hyunjin revels in your taste, you can't help the fire it fans in the very core of your being. 

“Hyunjin,” you moan and that's all it takes for him to lick his way into your mouth and fold you further into your mattress. You're certain you'll feel the ache in your thighs tomorrow but, you couldn't care less. “You're gonna make me cum,” he moans into your mouth, snapping his hips faster and faster into you while hiz grip on you remains steadfast, “Gonna make me fill up this gorgeous, pretty, tight, hot pussy,” he continues, and you feel him throb inside you and you don't think you've ever wanted someone to cum inside you so intensely. 

“I fuck want it,” you respond, your fingers finding their way into his hair, “Want you to cum inside me, Hyu–Jinnie.” And just like that he slams his mouth into yours and holds you in place while he fills you with his cum as promised. It's cold but, not awful. Outside of how hot he sounds whimpering into your mouth, you're struck by the fact that he's still hard and his cum seems unending. Already starting to trickle out of you while he's still cumming. The realisation causes you to cling to him tighter and your walls to clench around him, milking him for as much as he'll give you. Fuck. 

Eventually, it does stop and he kisses you much gentler now. Even pressing playful kisses along your cheeks and your nose. “You're so pretty,” he sighs dreamily like you hung the moon in the sky just for them. He gives you one last kiss before leaning back and pulling out of you. You knew he was still hard but, seeing it with your own two eyes is a whole different matter. All you can do is blink in astonishment and watch it bob, covered in a mixture of your combined fluids. “It's a vampire perk,” is his explanation and you can tell he and Jisung are trying really hard not to laugh at your shock. 

“It's definitely one of the fun parts,” Jisung adds while tugging off his shirt. You're not sure where or when his pants disappeared but, you're not complaining. “So can you guys like just…cum and stay hard all time?” You ask looking between the two for some sort of sense to be found in all of this. “Not all the time,” Hyunjin replies, making himself at home at the foot of your bed. It's a little hard to focus on what he's saying when he's naked and posed like a Greek god but, you persevere, “But vampires have significantly better stamina than humans. It takes a lot to really wear us out,” he finishes, gesturing vaguely to his still very hard cock for emphasis. 

Before you can think to ask how they get hard to begin with since you don't think they have blood and what exactly their cum consists of, Jisung invades your personal space. His kisses are needy and desperate. His hands practically shake from how much he wants you and, if you're being honest, your ego is going to be through the roof after tonight. “Waited for this for so long,” he mutters into your mouth, positioning himself between your stained thighs. The mixture of Hyunjin's cum and your own wetness provide Jisung with more than enough to sink into you with ease. He's not as big as Hyunjin but, your eyes flutter and toes curl all the same. 

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he grits out into the hollow of your throat before starting to move. Jisung seems to read you pretty well because his pace isn't slow or gentle and, for that, you're grateful. He fucks you thoroughly, making sure you feel every part of him while his hands explore every expanse of your body they can. Much like Hyunjin, he's especially into your tits. Savoring every gasp and arch of your back he can coax out of you. A garbled mess of his name and a curse fall from your lips when he sinks his fangs into your other breast. Unlike Hyunjin, Jisung doesn't drink slowly. He's greedy. Bloodthirsty. Blood smearing across his mouth while his pace picks up considerably. 

Tears spring to the corner of your eyes when he drags his thumb along your swollen clit. His grasp on your hip keeps you firmly in place. Forcing you to feel every sensation and, it hits you all at once just how close you've been. 

“Ji– oh my god– Jisung,” you cry out, gripping your sheets out of the sheer need to just ground yourself with something. Jisung watches you like a hawk the entire time. Lidded eyes only drifting between your thighs from time to time to watch the way he fucks Hyunjin's cum out of you but, he's more focused on your face. He has to see you when you finally shatter. He has to. 

It's a particular harsh circle he draws with his thumb that finally pushes you over the edge. Thankfully, he lets you catch your breath. Slowing down his pace considerably and slowly fucking you through your climax while he holds your hips. If you weren't on a totally different planet, you'd notice his attempt at soothing you with the circles he rubs into your skin. Still, despite his best efforts to let you come back to yourself, he's a goner the second you blink those teary eyes open and look straight at him. 

A weak whimper is all you can muster when you feel him cum. It honestly doesn't make any sense how hot he is. How hot they both are. You'd gladly give into the unconsciousness you can feel creeping up on you any other time but, right now you're too enamored with watching the way his inky hair sticks to his face and the way his mouth hangs open while he fills you to the point of leakage. Yeah, you've definitely never felt this full before and you're wondering whether the way your pussy flutters at the knowledge is something you even have the energy to unpack tonight. 

He gives you one last kiss before pulling out of you. You're sure you look like a total wreck right now and you can only imagine the state your sheets are in. However, sleep is calling your name and you can already feel yourself starting to drift off. 

“We know you're probably tired but, we need to clean you up, beloved,” Hyunjin says, startling you awake. The apologetic look he gives you is sweet but, you're so exhausted. You doubt you could move even if you wanted to. 

“But ‘m tired,” you mutter, rolling onto your side. 

“We know, baby but, we gotta clean you up and change your sheets,” Jisung chimes in, sounding as apologetic as Hyunjin looks. Before you can argue further, you find yourself in what you quickly realise are Hyunjin's arms. Blinking up at the man while he carries you like you weigh nothing in the direction of your bathroom. 

How does he still manage to look so pretty? 

“I'll help you clean up while Ji changes your sheets,” he says with a smile and you try your hardest to ignore the gymnastics routine your heart is doing. Jisung shoots you an equally as endearing smile over Hyunjin's shoulder before focusing his attention back on trying to clean up the travesty that is your bed at the moment. God, his ass is so cute. 

Allowing yourself to relax in Hyunjin's arms, maybe whatever your new normal is won't be so bad after all.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[spitdrunken]

THIS IS INCREDIBLY SELF-INDULGENT BUT. MY BLOG!

notes: power imbalance, sexual harrassment, murder mentions.

rotating a thought in my head where 'you' are an increasingly popular erotica writer from the pride ring. with writing, you've hit a bit of a niche, as a lot of the big porn producers (VoxTech's subsidiaries) are not exactly known for their riveting dialogue or personalities. no one's there for anything more than that, but there are demons who do want a bit more 'meat', so to say, with nowhere else turn. that is where you come in!

it's not enough to make a steady living off of, not even when you start taking incredibly specific commissions, but it's never been more of a hobby anyway. you are completely anonymous online, keeping care to use throwaway emails and accounts for everything. still, voxtech's products are utterly inescapable: it's either using them, or using nothing at all. (and those rumours about their boss vox having complete control over his technology, even after selling, has to be a rumour... you hope.)

meanwhile, as your penname continues to grow more and more recognizable, it falls in the vees' meeting room. valentino's immediate suggestion is just to kill you. people in the comments keep comparing his dialogue to yours. what the fuck is that about? who the hell watches porn for the DIALOGUE in the first place?

velvette, while shrugging her shoulders, only adds that their new releases tend to go trending, prior to release. fucking far from the top of that list, but still. trending is trending.

vox, sighing internally, plasters a smile on his face. there's really no need to kill new up and coming talent, val. we should suggest them to work for us instead. and if they don't... we can simply prevent them from working. they'll make up their mind, then.

you return to your laptop to an utterly inescapable pop-up describing the opportunity of a lifetime: the chance to work at voxtech! it's a whole wall of text, describing your pay (higher than you would have expected), where you will be living (in one of the appartment buildings owned by voxtech), and when to head to their main office. there is no word on denying the contract, an utter impossibility, it seems. not that you'd dare. vox's and the radio demon's showdown was the talk of the ring for days, and apparantly, all that rancour was the source of alastor denying a contract of his own. that really is more shit than you can handle in your undead life now. so, you take the job.

as your stories are starting to get heavily promoted, velvette absolutely insists that you add in at least a couple of looong clothing descriptions, based on her tastes. she's such an overwhelming, pushy presence, that it's hard for you to say no. she goes on about how, if it gets popular enough, people might be interested in somewhat similar outfits. probably not, though, let's be honest with ourselves. she makes you model them, all the while telling you that you really wouldn't be allowed to breathe in the direction of her studio otherwise. when you ask her why you absolutely have the one modelling, she just rolls her eyes. you based large parts of their appearances after you, didn't you? might as well make you look the part.

valentino is one of the worst parts of the job. compared to everyone else, he hardly pesters you, but he's still a terrifying presence. he'll give you 'suggestions' and make you steer your work in certain directions, getting too close and blowing smoke into your face. he gives a graphic description of how he jacked off to one of your stories, just to see your response. (this is a lie: why would he jack off if he can just call some stupid whore over to do it for him? also, he doesn't read.)

if a part of one of your stories ever gets a 'porno adaptation', he's having you play the part of the director, and has you sit in during the entirety of the viewing. you can tell he takes great pleasure out of any of your discomfort, or any of your fumbling- until it's too sloppy, and then he gets mad, of course, and you end up leaving the room with shaky legs.

vox seems to be the nicest one out of the three of them. really, he's only ever been courteous to you. but you've seen him flip his lid during the aforementioned 'radio demon fiasco', which you have been wise enough to never mention, so you still walk on eggshells around him. he can also get pretty pushy about deadlines, so you're not taking any chances.

he insists on having semi-regular meetings with you about the sales figures of your most recent works, wherein you also have to describe your process on other projects and pitch new ideas. frankly, you wish these meetings could be an email! but even when you tried to broach the subject, telling him that, surely, the company leader's time is much more important than this?

he simply brushed you off, telling you that he can decide for himself who and what to spend his time on, thank you very much. now, please continue. he'll inform you of the latest kinks and dynamics that have been most popular, though with some peculiar additions as well. you swear that, sometimes, the main character really does seem to resemble yourself in those suggestions, and the love interest a member of the vees...? you're certain you're just imagining it.

[ghostboneswrites2]

Silent Night || One Shot

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!

Request from my old blog: "I was wondering if you could to a little thing of daryl and a female mute reader? If you can, maybe selective mutism, so there can be some trust building themes and things! Just fluff, and two idiots in love"

Summary: You get stuck in a cabin overnight with Daryl. He tries to get to know you. Lots of trust building and cute bonding.

18+MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, sad backstory, TW: child loss, mostly cute

        Daryl lit the fire in the old fireplace, rubbing his hands together and holding them out to soak up the heat. It was dark and rather chilly with the roaring storm outside. It had blown in fast, and the torrential downpour was too much to drive in. With slow squeaky windshield wipers and dim headlights that desperately needed replacing, there was no other option. Daryl pulled over to the first cabin he saw and rushed you inside, leaving the two of you to spend the night in an old dusty cabin that smelled like mildew and aged wood.

        "Should start warmin' up in a bit." He told you, standing up and looking around. He didn't bother waiting for a response, you wouldn't have anything to say. Nobody had ever heard you talk. I mean, sure, people did when yo were younger, before the turn. You weren't deaf like Connie. You thought it was probably just a trauma response. The day you came home to find your fiancé hunched over your two year old daughter, blood pooling on the ground... You could just never bring yourself to speak after that. When you heard your voice, you heard goofy laughs with your baby, sweet talks in bed with your man, phone calls with family and friends. Nowadays there was never anything worth talking about. Every time you tried to speak you were flooded with sweet memories and clouded by the terrible image of your undead lover eating your baby, your world. It was like this large painful lump in your throat had made a home there and prevented any sound from coming out.

        Nobody actually even knew your name. You never told them. They usually just called you Jane, as in Jane Doe. Daryl didn't mind you at all, though. In fact, he was quite fond of you. You were pretty, you could hold your own, and you were also... pretty. So pretty. He couldn't keep his eyes off you some days. He was never sure if you noticed, and you really didn't. That was really only because you tried your best not to look at him. You were helplessly attracted to him, so anything to avoid giving that away, you did.

        "Still got them bars in your bag?" He asked you, referring to the protein bars Carol sent you with. You opened your bag and tossed him one, opening another one for yourself.

        The two of you ate in silence. He tossed you a water bottle from his own bag, and you drank.

        Then, it was just the two of you, left to occupy yourselves. He spent an hour or so sharpening arrows and tweaking bits and pieces on his bow. You mostly just laid on the couch and picked at your nails, or scabs, or stared up at the ceiling, watching the spiders in their webs. 

        His mind was plagued with questions. Every time he was alone with you he found himself wondering the same things. Where were you from? What was your story? Why didn't you speak? What was your name?

        He got frustrated with he lack of answers or anything else to stimulate his mind and distract him. He sighed and pushed himself back and forth in the old dingy rocking chair.

        "Need to find you a notepad or somethin' like Connie has." He spoke.

        You looked over at him.

        "Just sayin', silence is deafening, y'know?"

        You just looked back up at the ceiling.

        "What about.. Okay." He sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. You looked back at him. "What if I asked you... yes or no questions. You can just nod or shake your head." He sounded hopeful and bored. You almost wanted to laugh at his eagerness, like a little kid trying to get his grandpa to tell him stories from the war.

        You didn't answer, because, of course not, but you just watched him curiously, not giving any indication of refusal.

        "Alright. Do you like fishing?"

        You furrowed your eyebrows. 

        "Right. You don't fish." He nodded. "Stupid question. What about.. Okay. Have you ever talked?"

        You gave a single nod after a moment of deciding if you want to tell him that or not.

        "Do you know why you stopped?"

        The question was like a dagger in your chest. You decided you didn't wanna play anymore. You just sighed and turned your attention back to the ceiling. 

        He didn't press further. He just stood up and started to wander, checking all the cabinets in the kitchen for anything useful. He found one thing, a can of Spam. 

        "You like Spam?" He asked, walking back into the living room. You glanced over at him and shook your head. You weren't hungry. He shrugged. "Suit yourself." He said as he dug into the canned meat.

        "Y'know, I had a friend. Her name was Beth. She died, and uh, I didn't talk much after that. It was hard to. Like my throat got all tight every time I tried." He said. "It took a while, but I got through it."

        You knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to relate, hoping you'd open up some. You wished it was that easy, you really did. It was miserable having all these thoughts, needs, desires, and no way to express them.

        You knew you could speak, if you really wanted to. The problem was that you had never wanted to work hard enough to get past the lump.

        "You, uh, you're really no fun at sleepovers. Y'know that?"

        Silence. He waited a while. He wondered if he could make you laugh. He couldn't recall ever seeing you give more than a smile. He remembered the story he told Andrea all those years ago, and how it made her laugh.

        "Y'know, this one time when I was a kid. I got lost in the woods. I'm talkin' days, right. So, I gotta use the bathroom at some point. I wiped with leaves, cause I didn't have toilet paper or nothin', and turned out, it was poison ivy. I made it home eventually. Ass itched somethin' serious. I'm talkin' pullin' my underwear 'til the wedgie was so bad it gave me rug burn. Tried everything. Even took a fork outta the kitchen  and tried that. Nothin' helped."

        You were watching him now, grinning. A fork? Really? You wanted to ask if he threw it away or left it to get washed and used. He admired your smile for some time, before it faded. At least he got that.

        "My brother was in juvie back then. Dad wasn't around either. Did I ever tell ya about the time Merle got crabs?"

        You shook your head,

        "Well, he came home one night from the bar. Passed out. Next day he couldn't stop itchin'. Come to find out, there were little bugs crawlin' around in his pubes."

        You frowned in disgust.

        "Anyways, tried to tell the dumb son of a bitch to just shave 'em off, but he didn't wanna so I had to ride with him to the free clinic to get some kinda dick shampoo. Turns out he slept with the same girl like three more times. Kept goin' back to her 'til the shampoo ran out. Guess he figured it didn't matter if he could keep washin' 'em out."

        You looked mortified.

        "Yeah, guess that wasn't funny." He agreed. "He was a nasty son of a bitch."

        You raised your eyebrows and nodded in agreement.

        "I see you hang around Connie a lot. She ever teach you any sign language?"

        You shook your head.

        "I got a book back home if ya want it."

        You shrugged. Could be nice to communicate again.

        "Looks like ya need new shoes." He commented, nodding to your feet propped up on the arm of the couch. The rubber soles were starting to detach from the shoe itself. You nodded. "Wanna stop somewhere and look?"

        You thought for a moment, nodding and shrugging at the same time, as if to say, 'Why not?'

        He sat back down in the rocking chair and rested his head back. He wasn't tired really. It wasn't even that late. The rain just made it seem darker than it was. He listened to the crackling fire and the windy storm outside, the occasional thunder booming around.

        He looked down at you. You seemed just as restless.

        "Wish I knew more about ya." He admitted.

        Usually he wouldn't be so forward with a pretty girl, but your constant silence made him feel like he was just talking to himself. He didn't have to worry about your reaction, though he often wondered what you thought of him.

        You looked at him again, curiously.

        You glanced around the room for anything you could use to tell him something about you. It could be like a game of charades.

        You noticed a map on the wall and walked over to it, pulling the large frame off the nail and walking over to him. You placed your finger on your home state to show him.

        "That's where you're from?"

        You nodded, a small, sad smile on your lips.

        "I'm from Georgia." He said. You gave an acknowledging nod.

        "Ever been to any other states?"

        You dragged your finger from your home state to  Virginia, showing him you had only been through the states that led you to wind up as one of the Saviors. Of course, you weren't one of Negan's fighters, you were just a maid on the cleanup crew. He had actually seen you a few times during his captivity at The Sanctuary. You almost looked as miserable as him.

        "Mm." He nodded with understanding.

        You set the map on the coffee table and walked around the room, looking for anything else to use as a clue. Your eye caught on a little pink bow, the kind with an elastic band that would go around a baby's head. You picked it up, eyes watering as you ran your fingers over it. You turned back to him and walked back to where he sat, holding it out to show him.

        "Ya like pink?" He asked, not quite understanding. You shook your head, trying to think of a better way to explain. Then you remembered the horizontal scar over your lower abdomen. You had your daughter via C-section.

        You lifted your shirt and pulled the waist of your jeans down slightly to expose the scar. You held the bow up again, then pointed at the scar.

        "Oh." He said lowly. "You had a daughter?"

        You nodded, still teary eyed. You took the bow to your bag, concealing it in one of the zipper pockets. You had run out of the house horrified on that awful day. You had no time to grab a memento for her, so that bow would have to serve as one.

        "I'm sorry." He told you. You just nodded in place of a thanks, wiping the tears away. You continued your search around the little cabin for clues. It was kind of fun, albeit painful. It was like a game.

        You took a little longer this time on your search, until you found a phone book. You took it and flipped open a page and walked back to him. This time he was standing up. 

        You held the book open so that he could see it, and pointed to two individual digits.

        "That's how old you are?"

        You nodded.

        "Is your name in there?"

        You shrugged and set the book down, reasoning that it'd be too much work to find it in all those pages.

        "So, you're (age), you had a daughter, and you're from (state)?"

        You nodded and smiled. This was the most you had communicated with anyone in years. It was nice.

        "Cool." He nodded with a small half smile. "You hungry?"

        You shook your head no.

        "Thirsty?"

        You waved your hand to say kind of.

        "I found some tequila in the kitchen."

        You raised your eyebrows. Now that was temptation if you ever saw it. Tequila was a luxury you hadn't come across in, well, you didn't even know how long. You nodded giddily and he huffed a silent chuckle, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen and came back with a bottle of clear, liquid joy. You rushed over and grabbed it from him, twisting off the cap and taking a swig. You made a dramatic face as you shook your head. God, you didn't remember the burn being that bad.

        "Easy, tiger." He teased as he took the bottle and had some for himself.

        You smiled at him as he handed it back, the two of you taking turns until you felt that alcoholic heat in your ears and cheeks.

        "You like tequila?"

        You shurgged.

        "Just like drinkin'?"

        You nodded.

        "Good to know. If we don't finish this off we can bring it back for ya."

        You nodded and grinned. It was cute how happy you got over a simple drink, but he guessed with so little means of communication, anything was nice to take the edge off. He wondered if you felt lonely, like he often did. His was from a place of feeling misunderstood, though. Maybe it wasn't so different than being mute.

        "Is it hard?" He asked, taking a seat in the rocking chair as you sat on the coffee table just a foot away.

        You tilted your head inquisitively.

        "I mean, not bein' able to talk to nobody." He clarified.

        You nodded truthfully, looking down at the floor as you grabbed the bottle from him. 

        "Do ya remember what your voice sounds like?"

        You thought for a moment. Of course you did, that was what made it so hard. Your voice was linked to memories that you couldn't bare.

        You nodded.

        "Maybe I'll hear it one day."

        You smiled sweetly before you took a swig and passed the bottle back, nodding. Maybe he would.

        "Something on the bottle caught your eye, a little sticker stuck to the bottom. You reached over and peeled it off as he tipped it back to take a drink. It was a simple yellow smiley face. You smirked and waited for him to put the bottle down before you reached over and stuck it to his nose.

        "The hell?" He grumbled, peeling it off and looking down at it. You couldn't help the silent giggle, your shoulders rising and falling as you scrunched your nose. The little sticker just contrasted his dark, serious exterior too well.

        He noticed your silent laugh and stuck it back to his nose, smiling a little at your amusement. You reached for the bottle and had some more before you passed it back.

        "Y'think that's funny, huh?"

        You nodded, still grinning. He swished the drink around in his hand, staring at it thoughtfully. He had learned more about you in a couple of hours than anyone probably had in the years you'd been around. Still, it wasn't enough. He was greedy and he wanted more.

        He glanced around the room, the fire growing smaller making it fairly dim. He noticed a little banjo off in the corner near the couch.

        "Ya like music?"

        You nodded.

        "Rick, too. Always playin' the worst CDs he can find. Makes my ears bleed." He complained. "What about like.. drawin' or anything. Got any hobbies?"

        You shrugged. Before, you mostly just liked being a mom and watching your favorite shows. Now, you really only worked to survive, so what hobbies were there really?

        "What about church? You like that kinda thing?"

        You shook your head.

        "Yeah me neither. Never believed in it much."

        You nodded in agreement.

        "My mom did, though. Liked to read the bible. She died. When I was a kid."

        You placed a hand on his knee, letting him know you empathized.

        "Yeah. Dad was a real ass, too. Merle was all I had and he wasn't around all that much."

        You gave a sad, thin smile.

        "What about you? You had both parents?"

        You nodded.

        "Brothers? Sisters?"

        You shook your head. You were an only child.

        "Consider yourself lucky." He joked. You nodded. "Pets? Did ya have any?"

        You nodded.

        "Cat?" 

        You shook your head.

        "Dog?"

        You held up the number two with your fingers.

        "Always wanted a dog."

        You smiled. You loved your dogs.

        "Ya miss 'em? The dogs."

        You nodded.

        He yawned.

        "Ya tired yet or ya wanna keep goin'?"

        You shrugged.

        He passed you the bottle and stood up, ruffling your hair a little. You swatted his hand playfully and took a drink.

        "Gon' make sure the doors are sealed up tight." He announced, walking off to find the back door and reinforce it.

        You stood off the coffee table, the hard surface making your butt sore. You stretched and walked back to the couch. When he came back he asked, "You sleepin' there?"

        You nodded. You would offer it to him, but last time you guys had to share a sleep space he hogged the bed and snored as loud as humanly possible, so this time you were doing him no favors. He laid out some blankets he found, making a nice palette on the floor to lay on. You set the bottle on the coffee table, feeling pretty tipsy by now, and relaxed on the couch the way you had before. He laid down on his back, propping his bag under his head for comfort.

        It was silent for a while, just the two of you enjoying the sounds of rain and the flames that were slowly dying down.

        "Thanks." He spoke up. You peeked down at him from the couch. He was mostly obscured by the coffee table but you could see half of his face.  "For tellin' me all that."

        You just smiled to yourself as you turned on your side, facing away from him and curling up into the ball you usually slept in. A few minutes went by. Just  as his eyes got heavy, he heard it.

        "(Y/N)." You said. "That's my name."

[alovesongtheywrote]

Cranberry Juice | Eddie Munson x Reader

♥ Summary:  Getting kidnapped from a grocery store wasn't exactly on your to-do list, but neither was having sex with your blood-drunk vampire boyfriend on the dead bodies of your captors, so... [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]

♥ Warnings:  18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. Violence, gore, kidnapping, gun related violence & violence against women, drinking blood, drinking blood in a sexual nature, biting, minor character death, derogatory terms used for the reader by someone other than eddie, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink, very brief dubcon, monster fucking, angst, fluff.

♥ A/N: holy fuck, i haven't written a fem/afab reader in years. i've also never written smut before, so this is new.

♥ Word count:  15945

♥♥♥

You would think that in the two years following the murder of Chrissy Cunningham and the supposed death of Eddie Munson, Hawkins, Indiana would have calmed down a little bit.  You would at least assume that they would put down their pitchforks and torches and give Eddie’s friends and loved ones some room to breathe- after all, Eddie’s name had been cleared of any and all crimes, and he was, as far as they knew, literally dead.

But nope!

Nope!  No!  No way!  You still couldn’t leave your house without receiving a thousand angry glares from a thousand angry hicks.  Really, you didn’t feel comfortable leaving the house alone anymore, and no one could blame you for that.  Between the threats you’d received, the shit you’d seen, and the way the town banded together to hunt down your boyfriend in 1986, you were more than justified in feeling unsafe.

This drove Eddie up the fucking wall.

You were his partner, the love of his undead life, and he couldn’t protect you from the same town that initially drove him into hiding- the town that he had died saving.  He couldn’t protect Wayne, either, or the Hellfire Club kids for that matter.  He couldn’t shield any of you, or stick by your side throughout the day- the wings and claws that Vecna had so graciously given him upon his return to the living made hiding a little more than necessary.  And hey, if those new features weren’t bad enough on their own, Hawkins still wanted Eddie’s head on a pike.  If any Hawkins citizen saw him like this, in a new and monstrous form, that would be more than enough of an excuse to murder him then and there.

In short, Eddie was helpless.  His new features, the claws and fangs which were meant to maim and kill were useless when it came to defending his loved ones.  He was entirely unable to take care of the people he loved most, and he hated it.  

Anger and resentment festered inside of him.  He worried about you whenever you left the house.  Even when you were safe with him, a dark corner of his mind still spiraled through all the horrible possibilities.  He wanted to keep you safe, to keep you unharmed and alive, and the idea that he wouldn’t be able to do that gave him a sense of dread like no other.  

And then his fears were realized.

-

It started out as a simple shopping trip.  You needed to pick up a few things, so you went out to get them.  That’s how most people go about grocery shopping.  It was normal.  Painfully average considering everything else going on in your life, and honestly, you kind of liked that.

You didn’t go out alone.  Max also needed to pick up a few things, so you brought her with you.  You were smart about it.  You both kept your guards up and your keys between your fingers.  You were safe.  Or you were until you fell for the faux sense of safety provided by the fluorescent lights and the bland music playing overhead- a sense of safety that would be brutally fucking shattered.

Before that, though, you were just looking at juice.

The grocery store shelves in front of you were filled with bottles and bottles of beverages.  For a moment, you pondered just how many forms of cranberry juice a company could make.  The answer was a lot, apparently.  

At your side, Max was fidgeting, impatiently tapping her cane against the ground.  You couldn’t blame her, you’d been staring at juice for like, five minutes.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet, “If it’s cool with you, I’m gonna go grab the-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you snapped out of your juice-induced haze, “Go for it, I’ll be here.”

Letting her go was your first mistake.

She nodded at you and left the aisle, ignoring the pointed glare served to her by a middle-aged woman who occupied the aisle with you.  As soon as Max was gone, the woman’s glare found its true target.  The killer’s girlfriend.  The Munson boy’s accomplice.  You.

Unfortunately for the woman, your attention was already back on the juice.

Apple.  Blackberry.  Blueberry.  Cranberry.  Cran-apple.  Cran-pineapple.  Cran-mango.  Cran-cherry.  Cran-pomegranate.  There really were a lot of cranberry juices.  In all seriousness, you didn’t actually care about juice that much.  It was just a nice distraction from the oncoming-

“Devil’s whore.”

Oh, yep, there it was.

You said nothing as the woman swore at you.  You tuned out her whispered rant about your audacity- the nerve you had to go out in public after dating that ‘child-murdering monster.’  You were used to this treatment.  Not everyone in Hawkins was this intense.  Some were worse, and some were better, but there were enough angry citizens kicking around for you to grow numb to the insults.  As long as they weren’t threatening your life, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.  You just focused on the juice and let her voice fade out.

That was your second mistake.

You tuned back in to the sound of a click- the sound of a gun’s safety turning off.  Panic filled your body as you returned to your surroundings.  The woman was gone.  Where she had vanished to was a mystery, but you didn’t really care.  Not when, in her place, a man stood, aiming a gun right at your stomach.

After noting the gun, the first things you noticed were the man’s eyes- ice blue, cold, and cruel.  He wore a sweatshirt beneath a white and green varsity jacket, the hood of which he had pulled up and over his blond hair.  It was a clear attempt to provide your attacker with some anonymity- of course, that was instantly cancelled out by the print on the sleeve that read, “Hawkins High, ‘84.”  He was your age- and when you looked closer, you realized that you knew him.

Kurt Robertson.  He had been a classmate of yours, a jock who had treated “freaks” like you and Eddie rather poorly.  Clearly, he had continued his athletic pursuits given his muscular frame.  Fear pooled in your stomach as you realized that you were no match for him.  You wouldn’t have been a match for him even if he didn’t have a gun.

You put your hands up slowly, “Hi, Kurt.  It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Don’t even try it, bitch.  Come with me,” he grabbed you by your shoulder, pushing the gun into your hip.

“Uh, maybe,” you were playing with fire, “Can I ask what this is about?”

“You know full well what this is about.  That freak boyfriend of yours murdered Chrissy- he murdered Jason, too.  They were good kids, and there’s no justice for them.”

“So you decided to find some at the grocery store?”

“Shut up, bitch, I’m talking,” he slammed you into the shelving unit.  You yelped like a wounded animal.  Two bottles of cranberry juice fell to the floor, cracking open as they met the ground.  Red spilled across the tiles.

“I’m here, we’re here,” he gestured to the store’s exit.  The implication of backup made you shiver, “To do good by Jason.  And Chrissy.  Munson took their lives- we figured we’d return the favour.  Send his slut to hell for him.”

A crooked smile spread across Kurt’s face as he let you go, pulling back from the shelves.  He gestured to the glass doors again, “Now, let’s get a move on, shall we?”

“What, you’re taking me to a secondary location?  Too afraid to kill me where everyone can see it?” It was an attempt to escape- to convince this guy to let you go.  If you could get him to fuck off, you might be able to slip out the backdoor and get to Eddie.  If you got to Eddie, you would be safe.

“No,” Kurt pressed the gun back against your stomach, “I just respect this fine establishment too much to get your fucking guts all over it.”

“This is a grocery store.”

“Hey!” your head jerked to the side to see who had spoken.  Kurt did the same.  Max was standing at the end of the aisle, her groceries in one hand and her cane in the other.  She looked angry, murderous- you were proud of her for that glare alone.

“Is there a problem here?” she scowled at the man in front of you.  You felt the gun turn.  Its side pressed against you, hiding from view in the fabric of your shirt.  The barrel was aimed at Max.  Shit.

You turned back to face Kurt.  He wouldn’t look at you.  His eyes were fixed on the red-haired girl- his new target.  You had to protect her.  She’d probably be pissed at you for having that thought, but you had to protect her.

“There’s no problem,” you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, “I just ran into a former classmate.”

Max looked like she didn’t believe you in the slightest, not that you could blame her for that.  Everything from Kurt’s proximity to you to the juice on the floor spelled out trouble.  You blinked.

“Actually, do you think you’re good to find your own way home?  I think I’m gonna be a while.  Just catching up, y’know?”

You blinked again- three short blinks.  Three long blinks.  Three short ones.  You hoped she noticed.

She stared at you for a minute, looking deep into your eyes before nodding.  She coughed out a quick, “Yeah, it’s fine.  See you around,” and with that, Max was gone.  You could only hope that your message had been received.

Kurt waited for a moment.  The doors opened and closed.  Max had left.  Now, it was just you, a man with a gun, and a dozen shoppers who didn’t give a shit about whether or not Eddie Munson’s whore girlfriend got shot in the middle of the juice aisle.  

“Kurt,” you tried, watching as he took in your surroundings and fixed his eyes on the door, “Chrissy was a good kid, and I’m so sorry that she’s gone.  She didn’t deserve to die, but I promise, Eddie didn’t have anything to do with it-”

He took your arm in a grip that would surely leave bruises- if you lived long enough for them to form.  You winced but continued on, trying again to free yourself diplomatically, “And Jason- Jason was extreme, you have to admit, but I’m sorry about him, too.  He did some awful things, but he wasn’t evil-”

“Yeah, you’d know a lot about evil, wouldn’t you?” Kurt sneered, pulling you out of the store and into the alleyway behind it.  A pickup truck was parked there, waiting for you.  Diplomacy had failed.  You had to try something else.

The first thing you did was grab the gun and shove it away from you.  Kurt’s arm went with it, and he stumbled slightly.  You stumbled, too, but your balance came back to you faster than his did.  You used your brief advantage to punch your assailant in the face.  Your fist connected with his jaw, sending Kurt right to the ground.

You shook out your hand and took a step away, momentarily stunned by your pain and your power.  The doors of the pickup began to open.  You ran.  You were being chased by former jocks.  You didn’t get far.

Two arms wrapped around you- one around your chest, and one around your neck.  You tilted your head down and bit as hard as you possibly could.  The guy screamed, letting go of you just as another pair of arms took hold.

You struggled, turning around in the man’s hold and scratching at his eyes.  Someone ran behind you and grabbed at your arms, trying to stop you.  You thrashed, hissing and fighting like an angry animal.  It was futile.

You were pushed to the ground and a gun was pointed at your face.  Kurt glared down at you, his eyes full of hate and his lip gushing blood.  The rest of the boys backed off for the moment, standing on the sidelines, watching their leader.

“I should kill you.  I should kill you right now you fucking bitch.  Send you to hell with your Satanic fucking boyfriend.”

“Then do it,” you barked, adrenaline and impulse speaking for you more than anything else, “Kill me.  Unless you’re scared to do it you quivering pussy-”

Kurt slammed the gun into the side of your head.  Your vision went black.  Your hearing faded to a soft buzz.  Blood dripped down the length of your face.  You didn’t feel it.  You couldn’t feel anything.  You didn’t hear the panicked whispers of the jocks, nor the quietly exclaimed, “Holy shit, dude!  You fucking killed her!” or the, “She’s not dead, just knocked out, calm the fuck down,” that followed it.

For the moment, you were out of the game.  

The boys loaded you into the truck as fast as they could.  Their arms held you down, their hold on you tight, as if your unconscious body would spring up and perform a series of badass jiu-jitsu moves on them.  That didn’t happen, but they wanted to be prepared.  

The pickup sped out of the alleyway, putting the grocery store in its rearview mirror with law-breaking speed.  If any of the jocks had bothered to look in said rearview mirror, they would have noticed a red-headed girl using the payphone that stood near the grocery store parking lot.  

“Eddie?  It’s Max.  We have a problem.”

-

You woke to the stench of rotting wood and decomposing hay.  Beneath you, a filthy concrete floor provided a cold embrace.  Small stones and various pieces of dirt and debris dug into your soft flesh.  In this position, your leg was twisted under your weight at an awkward angle.  

Damning the discomfort, you kept still.  Every part of you was tense, ready, waiting for some sign or sound of your abductors.  Nothing happened.  The only sound was the faint scurrying of mice, and the wind blowing through the trees outside.  Still hesitant, you opened your eyes.

Most of the structure around you was made of decaying wood.  Planks and beams extended across a vast room, stretching up to a high ceiling to meet with crumbling rafters.  In some places, red and white paint had been applied to cover up some of the damage, but after years of neglect, the attempted solution had faded and chipped away.

Beams of golden sunlight streamed into the barn through dirty glass windows, and through a large square hole in the wall that had once housed a door.  Far above your head, shitty old lights buzzed harshly, illuminating all of the grime that the sun couldn’t reach.  

Outside, you could see a weed-filled field running off to a line of trees in the distance.  Brambles twisted up near the barn’s entrance.  Wildflowers bloomed among nettles and thorns.  Vines tangled with the faulty wood of the walls.  Even inside the barn, little sprouts popped up through cracks in the concrete.  Dandelions puffed near rusted old farming equipment and piles of wasted hay.

This place was oddly beautiful- and clearly abandoned.  You were far from help, and from the sound of it, you were completely alone.  

Cautiously, you got to your feet.  The spot of concrete that had served as your pillow was stained red.  You didn’t want to think about that too hard.  Putting it out of your mind, you took a few shaky steps, stumbling your way toward the exit.  Your bruised body screamed in protest.  The sound of your footfalls echoed through the barn.  You kept going.  It wasn’t like you had much of a choice.

A rusty pitchfork lay against the wall a few feet from the hole in the wall.  Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have touched the thing for fear of tetanus.  Unfortunately, these were not normal circumstances.  You armed yourself quickly and continued on, inching forward until the concrete turned to gravel underfoot.  

You didn’t make it far.

The sound your movements made alerted your captors to the fact that you were awake.  You could hear something drop around the side of the barn- something heavy.  Male voices swore loudly.  The sound of curses and other exclamations rang through the field, polluting the otherwise beautiful golden hour.  

You looked around, desperately searching for a place to hide.  You found nothing.  There was no hiding place among the weeds and brambles, no space for nature to pull you in and protect you.  Your fists tightened around the pitchfork as you realized that this would come down to a fight.  

Unfortunately, you were right.  

Jocks ran out from behind the barn like ants swarming from a hill.  Someone cried out, “Skin only!  Don’t kill her yet!”

You vaguely recognized some of the faces before you- the first one was Andy, one of the jocks who had been after Eddie in ‘86.  You were able to push him back with your makeshift weapon.  The next jock, unfortunately, got much closer.  The smell of weed assaulted you, which was quickly followed by an actual assault.  A fist met your cheek, and you staggered back, keeping yourself up with the handle of the pitchfork.

The jock didn’t let up.  Another punch came your way, but you managed to step back and avoid it.  The guy kicked at you weakly, but you easily dodged that, too.  In retaliation, you raised the pitchfork and brought it down flat over the guy’s head, knocking him to the ground.  

Alas, you were still surrounded.  Five more jocks were perfectly ready for a fight, and you were quickly running out of strength and luck.  Panic and pain surged through you as another hit connected with your jaw.  A fist collided with your stomach.  You fell to your knees.  Another hand met your face.  A ring broke the skin of your lips.  Your chosen weapon fell to the ground as blow after blow fell upon you.  

You did your best to shelter yourself from the attack.  Sharp aches echoed through your limbs with every blow.  You tried to separate yourself from the moment, mentally and physically.  Curling into a ball on the ground and disassociating didn’t exactly make you feel brave or heroic, but it kept you from taking too much damage.  Still, you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day- if you lasted that long.

You barely noticed when the kicks and punches stopped coming.  You only snapped out of it fully when someone grabbed your arm.  You winced.  It was the first reaction they’d gotten from you since the attack began.

“Good,” Kurt grinned, “We didn’t break you.”

You said nothing, biting back several sarcastic remarks.  None of them seemed appropriate for the situation.  Instead, you slid your tongue over your lip, collecting the blood that pooled there.  The next time Kurt opened his mouth to speak, you spit in his face.  

“You fucking bitch!” Kurt shrieked, wiping frantically at his face, “Tie her up and get her back in the barn.  We’re gonna take this slow, got it?  She doesn’t get a quick death.”

Kurt’s lackeys obeyed.  Someone bound your wrists together in front of you with duct tape.  Rough hands pulled you up from the ground and shoved you back toward the barn.  Fear began to take anger’s place as they threw you to the concrete.  Blood dripped from your lip to the floor.  You watched as it bleed between rocks and cracks below you.  How much blood would you lose tonight?

Your heart raced.  Breath escaped your battered lungs, but you couldn’t seem to pull any air in.  Kurt glared down at you, his form outlined by the light of the setting sun.  He looked at you like you were some sort of vermin he had to dispose of.  You were sure that in his eyes, that was the truth.  

The gun was in his hand.

“Remind me, Andy.  How did they find Jason’s girl again?”

“I dunno.  They didn’t even let her parents see her face.  But Patrick,” Andy knelt down in front of you and grabbed your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look at him, “I got to see Patrick.  All of his bones were shattered.  Some kind of freak ritual, I guess.”

“Well, we don’t have a freak ritual, but,” Kurt aimed the gun at your leg, “We can always improvise.  Answer me this, boys- will a bone break apart if you hit it with a bullet?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

His finger wrapped around the trigger.  

A deafening bang echoed off the barn’s walls.

The sound didn’t come from the gun.  Something had crashed into the roof.  Dust reigned down on you and the boys as you all looked up, peering at the ceiling.  Above you, the old lights began to flicker.  The air seemed to chill by a few degrees.

The jocks staggered slightly, their eyes off of you and fixed on the ceiling.  They all jumped as the horrendous screech of tearing metal met their ears.  Whatever had landed on the roof, it was now clawing its way off.  The boys turned to face the door, gripping their weapons and putting up their fists.   

An inhuman sound split the calm twilight.  You knew it well- that unnerving, predatory growl.  You’d heard it a few times before, while running for your life in the Upside Down.  While you watched the bats tear your lover apart.  You fell back, crawling deeper into the barn.  

The lights flicked off.

When they came back on, Eddie was standing in the would-be doorway of the barn, wings spread and fangs bared.  

“Is that-?” one of the jocks whispered.

“Munson,” Andy spat.  Kurt raised his gun, aiming the barrel at its new target.

He didn’t get the chance to shoot.

Eddie attacked first.  He flew forward, seizing the face of the nearest man in his claws.  In seconds, the man’s head was nothing more than a bloody mess.  Screams filled the air as the first jock fell to the ground.  Eddie fell with him, teeth to the man’s neck as blood pooled around them, a blood-red mirror on the concrete floor.  

Your attackers stood stunned as Eddie moved on, leaving a body behind.  Garnet drops flew to the floor as Eddie tore the next attacker into tiny little pieces.  You were almost hypnotized by the way Eddie’s teeth sunk into the guy’s neck, by the way Eddie’s claws tore through his flesh.  You could practically hear the sound of blood draining from his veins.  When he pulled back, Eddie’s sweet brown eyes were blood red.

He was quick to jump at his next victim, claws and fangs tearing, and slashing, and biting until the man stopped moving.

It was only after that third man’s body was drained that your attackers shook themselves from their reverie and began to retaliate.  They’d been aching for a chance to hurt Eddie for years.  Now, they had even more of an excuse to kill him- if Eddie was a freak before, then what was he with wings and fangs?  To them, he was a monster.  He always had been, and he always would be.

They attacked.  

It wasn’t too effective, all things considered.  A fist flew at Eddie, and in response, he grabbed the offending hand, pulled the man close to him, and put his claws through the man’s chest.  You almost felt sick at the sight of it- your boyfriend’s hand, rings and all, coming through the back of a man who beat you minutes before.  

You knew Eddie was stronger now, inhumanly so, but you had never seen him use that strength like this- not on a person, at least.  You were never afraid of Eddie.  You knew that he would rather die than hurt you.  But watching what he could do to a human- it filled you with unease, and with some other emotion that you refused to name.  

That nameless emotion screamed in your ears as Eddie pulled the man towards him using the hand still in his chest.  Eddie brought his fangs to the man’s throat and drank.

The sound of wood splintering filled the air as Eddie blocked a blow from a bat with his claws.  He pulled his mouth away from his latest victim’s neck so that he could handle the weapon.   He discarded the bat quickly, throwing it clear across the barn.  He threw the wielder next, impaling him on some old farming equipment.  The dandelions that lived beneath the aged machine were showered in a gush of ruby and wine.   

Andy was next.  He came at Eddie with a crowbar, and your stomach turned as you realized that all the jocks’ weapons- the bats, the crowbars, and the gun- were meant for you.  You winced as Andy managed to land a hit, striking Eddie in the shoulder with enough strength to down a regular man.  Fortunately, Eddie was not a regular man.  He seized the crowbar and bent it, letting it fall to the floor.

“You- you killed Chrissy!  And Patrick, and Jason-!”

Eddie’s eyes bore into Andy’s, speaking untold volumes, simmering with rage.  Eddie wiped the blood from his mouth and took a step toward the jock.

“I didn’t kill any of them.  I didn’t touch any of them.  But you?  You made my girl bleed.  You’re gonna pay for that.”  

In seconds, Andy was on the ground, unconscious or dead, you couldn’t tell.  Blood dripped from his nose and mouth.  Eddie didn’t bother drinking from him.

For a moment, then, the world fell silent.  Eddie’s eyes met yours across the barn, across the sea of blood that he had spilled to protect you.  Despite the gore, despite the blood that stained Eddie’s hands and the space under his nails, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him.  He was here.  You were safe now.

But thinking that was your third mistake.

Eddie smiled back, and as he did, another ear-piercing bang echoed through the barn.  There was nothing on the roof.  There was nothing clawing down to the barn.  There was nothing but you and Eddie, Kurt and his gun.

Eddie brought his hand to his side.  When he moved it away, his skin was stained with both his blood and the blood of those he’d slain.  You screamed.  Eddie fell to his knees.  Kurt took aim again.  He levelled the gun at Eddie’s head.

You leapt at Kurt, using your bound fists as a weapon.  You caught the man by surprise, knocking him right to the ground.  The gun slid across the floor, away from both of you.  Kurt quickly took the advantage, rolling over and pinning your hips to the ground with his.  He raised his fist and brought it down on your face, once, then twice.

He didn’t land a third punch.  Eddie tackled him off of you, hurling Kurt’s body away from yours.  He stayed in front of you, protecting you from Kurt, blocking him from view.  He was your shield, keeping you safe and out of the other man’s reach.  Eddie snarled like an animal- a predator.  It was a warning to Kurt.  A message telling him, on no uncertain terms, to stay put.

Kurt did no such thing.  He jumped at Eddie.  Thick fingers dug deep into the bloody mark on Eddie’s side.  He cried out in agony- the sound was something akin to a roar.

“You’re a monster,” Kurt yelled, his hands now covered in the dark cranberry shades of Eddie’s blood,  “You’re a FUCKING MONSTER!”

Eddie stumbled backwards, a pained gasp leaving his lips.  Your attacker showed no mercy.  He advanced, landing a hit on Eddie’s jaw.  Eddie fell to his knees.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” Kurt reached for the gun.  He couldn’t find it.

Another shot rang out.  

The sound echoed around the barn.

Blood spilled out from the brand-new bullet wound in Kurt’s chest.  He fell to the ground with a dull thud.  His blood pooled beneath him, like cranberry juice on the floor of a grocery store.  Another blood-red mirror to reflect another lifeless corpse.  Another red stain on the concrete.

You stood behind him, gun held tightly in your bound hands.

Silence followed.  You could hear Eddie’s panting, and the sound of your heartbeat rushing in your ears.  The busted farm lights buzzed overhead.  Outside, in the twilight, cicadas sang, serenading you both.  Each breath you took was tainted by the iron scent of blood.  A chill danced up your skin.  The barn was still cold- so fucking cold.

Eddie was struggling.  New blood coursed through his system, making every inch of him feel warm.  Something beneath his skin started to itch.  He wanted to move.  He wanted to hunt.  He wanted you.  He wanted to see you spread out before him, breathless and quivering, completely drunk on his cock.  He wanted the taste of your blood to stain his tongue.  He could feel an unending pulsation spread through him, driving him forward, almost controlling him in a way. His eyes met yours for just a moment before he forced himself to look away.  A growl left his lips.

Across the room, you watched Eddie’s silent crisis, completely unaware of the feral desires harboured behind his big doe eyes.  His claws curled at the concrete.  You could hear them scratching against it- almost carving through it entirely.  His breath seemed to come faster and faster, his chest rapidly rising and falling with every second that passed.  You panicked, slightly, taking a small step towards him as your fear for his safety overtook your brain.

You lowered the gun.  

“Eddie?” You called out, shattering the quiet with your desperation.  Your voice was weak, shaking.  You sounded broken.

In an instant, Eddie was on his knees before you.  His cold clawed hands ran up your thighs and over your hips, slender fingers checking for hidden injuries, leaving goosebumps in their wake.   His movements were gentle, though they edged on desperate, almost animalistic.  Your heart twinged with guilt as sparks flew from each place he touched.  Despite the situation, you wanted more of this- more of him.

You got just that when his lips joined his hands.  He painted each part of you with kisses, brushing his mouth over your knees, your thighs, your hips.  He paused over the faint purple of a forming bruise on your leg, his touch hovering over it slightly as passionate concern tore a growl from deep within his chest.  You could feel his breath against your skin, hard and fast, nothing short of panicked.  His fear for you melted your heart.  You whispered his name.  It came out as a plea- a blasphemous prayer in a God-fearing town.

“I’m here,” he replied, his voice low, “I’m right here, sweetheart.  I’ve got you.  Are you alright?”

You nodded, trying to breathe again as you adjusted to the safety of his presence.  His hands slid up your body as he leaned in, pressing his lips and then his teeth against the soft skin of your thigh.  He bit down, enough to mark you but not enough to make you bleed, “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.  I promise.”

You whimpered, taking his chin between your fingers, urging him to meet your eyes.  His face was pale, and his normally messy hair was wild and slightly damp from sweat.  Blood spilled from his bottom lip.  You couldn’t tell if it was his.  Gently, you brushed the blood away with your thumb.  He leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes for a moment, letting himself be there with you.  When he opened his eyes again, there was something dark contained in the sweet brown of his irises- a grim determination.

“Baby,” he groaned, raising a hand to your wrists, “I’m gonna untie you, and then-” he paused, taking a deep breath.

“And then?”

“And then I need you to run.”

“What?  Why?  What’s wrong-?” a fresh wave of panic shot through you at Eddie’s warning.

Eddie paused for a moment.  When he spoke again, he almost sounded afraid, “It’s nothing.  Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.  I just- I need you to run from me.”

“Eddie, what do you mean?”

He didn’t answer.

“Eddie- Eddie, please-”

He dug his fingers into your thighs, pulling you down and knocking you onto your back.  A small cry escaped you.  Your heart began to pound in your chest as one of his massive hands curled in the dust beside you.  In the time it took to blink, he was leaning over you, caging you in with his body.  One of his legs found its home between yours.  The way he stared down at you was a new kind of desperate- he looked hungry.  Empty.  Starving.

“I’ve had too much blood tonight, baby,” he leaned in, nipping at your throat, all teeth, no fangs.  He made a point not to bite, “And it did something to me.”

“S-something?”

He slipped his hands into yours, pinning your arms above your head by your still-bound wrists.  He pulled back to look at you, ravenous devotion clouding his eyes, “Something, baby.  I don’t know what, but I-”

He cut himself off, looking away from your face and shutting his eyes tightly as if he could somehow fend off what he was feeling by pretending to be somewhere else.  His grip on you tightened, and you fought off the urge to whimper.  Again, you whispered his name.

“I want to taste you,” Eddie sounded horrified at his own words, but he didn’t stop, “I wanna feel you succumb beneath my hands.  I want to feel your heart race for me, but I can’t tell whether it’s your blood I want on my tongue, or you.   And I- I can’t hurt you, so I need you to run, okay?”

His eyes were still closed.  He still refused to look at you.  He seemed so deeply ashamed- and yet, heat pooled inside you, flowing down to your core.  You drew in a breath, your chest rising sharply.  Blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your face until everything beneath your skin felt like fire.  Your eyes widened.  Your thighs shook slightly.  Any sense of self-preservation you had was throwing itself out the window in the wake of the fire that Eddie had unknowingly set inside of you- a fire that you had no intention of putting out.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed at your physical response.  He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear, “Are you afraid?”

“Afraid?  Of you?” your voice shook, and your body trembled beneath him, but a small smile took over your features at the thought, “Never.”

Eddie pressed his forehead against your shoulder.  A small grin crossed his features, though there was no joy in it.  There was something tragic in every movement he made.  A desperate longing drove every action- a want for something he could not have.

“Goddamnit, I love you,” he whispered.  His words were almost a whine, “But I need you to get out of here, okay?  I need you to get somewhere safe, somewhere away from me, and I need you to stay there.”

He pressed his lips back to your neck, sucking your skin in between his teeth with enough pressure to bruise, but not to break.  His claws bit into the tape, beginning to tear it.

“Eddie-” you spoke fast, panicking at the thought of leaving him like this, “Eddie, I’m not going anywhere.  Not when you’re hurt.  Look, I know you’re afraid to hurt me, and I know that you think you’re a monster, but you’re not,” you flushed as your voice broke, “You’re not a monster, Eds.  You- you make me feel safe.  I want to stay.”

He stopped tearing at the tape.

“Eddie,” you sounded more sure, “I’m here.  I’m staying, and you won’t hurt me, you won’t lose control-”

“You don’t know that,” he hissed, his voice filled with so much self-loathing that the sound of it broke your heart.

“But I do.  Eddie, everything you did tonight, you did to save me.  To protect me.  You aren’t gonna hurt me.  You’re not-”

His hand was on your throat.  He didn’t squeeze.  There was no pressure, but his claws pricked in against your fragile skin.  You should have been afraid of him, or at the very least you should have feared for your life.  Eddie was dangerous.  You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but you’d just witnessed him murder several people with the claws that were now against your throat.  But in fear’s place, that deep longing still burned inside of you.   

”Baby,” Eddie warned, “I need you to understand.  There is so very little inside of me that wants to be nice, and there is so much of me that wants to-”

A sharp sting spread out from your neck as his claws drew the tiniest drops of blood.  He leaned closer to you, to your neck, “I don’t want to show mercy or kindness.  I want to fuck you until my cum is spilling out of you, until you can’t move, and then I wanna keep going.  I want to use you until you know that that pretty little slit between your legs belongs to me.  I want to claim you.  To own you.  To ruin you for everyone else.  I want you to bleed for me, and that is terrifying.”

He paused, releasing your throat from his hold and bringing his lips to your neck.  He lapped at the drops of blood that spilled from the pinprick-like wounds he’d made.  The second his tongue was on you, he took his other hand off your wrists and moved his touch down your body.  He stopped at the hem of your shirt, his fingers biting into the material, almost tearing it like they had torn your skin just moments before.

“Sweet girl, I wanna fuck you until it hurts- fuck you while we’re surrounded by the bodies of our enemies- and then I want to drain you.  I am a monster.  And I want you the way a monster would.  Do you understand?”

Again, you should have been afraid.  You should’ve let him free your wrists, and then you should have run away.  You should have screamed.  

Instead, you moaned.  

You couldn’t help it.  It just sort of slipped out of you- his words, the intensity of his gaze, the sweet sting at your neck- it all poured gasoline on the already raging fire burning inside your core.  Your legs fell apart for him, thighs spreading wide as arousal pooled between them.  Eddie looked a little surprised.

“Did you- did you just fucking moan?”

You grumbled, desperate to hide your face in shame.  Your humiliation doubled when you realized that with Eddie’s heightened senses, he could probably tell that you wanted him.  He could undoubtedly hear the racing of your heart and smell the want between your legs.

“You fucking heard me,” you sighed, looking away in defeat, “But you- you can’t just say shit like that.  You have to know that I want you.”

“You want me?  To what, to kill you?  Because-”

You cut him off, sighing again at your boyfriend’s dramatics, “Oh my god, Eddie, I  want you inside of me.”

He froze for a second, stunned into silence.  You took that as a cue to carry on,  “I want you to fuck me. To claim me.  I want you to use me, to ruin me, whatever, I just want to be yours.”

Eddie remained quiet, though his features had softened slightly.  You turned back to face him, shoving your shame out of your mind.  You sat up in his hold, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you encircled your still-bound arms around his neck.  His eyes were still wide with shock, but there was an undeniable sense of adoration within them.  In turn, Eddie saw no fear in your gaze- just determination.  And arousal.  

“I want you to take me,” you begged, twisting your fingers in his hair, “Right here, and right now, and if you have to do that ‘like a monster,’ then do it.  I don’t care.  I just want you.”

Another growl ripped itself from Eddie’s throat as he pushed you back to the ground, keeping your arms around him, “Do you understand what you’re getting yourself into?”

You nodded, leaning up and pressing your lips to his in a quick and surprisingly chaste kiss.  He smiled against your skin- a genuine smile, this time.  You’d convinced him.  He sighed, reaching up to gently cup your face.  He traced over your cheek as he spoke, “Use your words for me, sweet girl.”

You turned your head to press a kiss to his palm, “I know.  Do you understand that I don’t care what I’m getting myself into?”

He raised an eyebrow.  You continued, a devious smirk on your face.

“You could do whatever you want to me because I want this.  I want you.  And, hey if you don’t fuck me at this point, maybe I’ll do it myself and make you watch.”

On the last word, you parted your lips and bit Eddie’s hand.  He choked.  A blush covered his face, painting his features pink up to the tips of his ears.  You smiled, satisfaction with your work sinking in as you leaned up to press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.  His skin was warm, far warmer than the palm he had on your face just moments before.

Eddie shook his head, snapping out of his flustered state.  His eyes darkened as want crept back into his gaze.  He took your arms from around his neck, pressing a kiss to your hands before he pressed them into the ground above your head.  You were pinned.    

“Even now, you’re such a fuckin’ brat,”  Eddie purred, “Y’know, it might be a little tough for you to get yourself off seeing as you’re, y’know, at my mercy, but I’d like to see you try.  I can’t complain about a show like that.”

You gave a defiant wiggle, stretching your hands as much as you could with your wrists still pinned and bound, “I know.  That’s why I-”

A moan swallowed your words as he pressed a kiss to the column of your throat.  The sound heightened in pitch, becoming a cry as his teeth bit into your soft flesh.  Eddie smiled against your neck as he released his hold on your wrists.  His hands moved down your body, his actions slow, fingers weighed down by intent.  His touch lingered by your breasts for a second, giving your tits a harsh squeeze before he reached further.  A sharp gasp left you as you felt his cold digits press against the bare skin beneath the hem of your shirt.   

His grip tightened on the fabric, claws piercing through it before he tore it from you entirely, leaving your upper body exposed to the chill of the barn.  Goosebumps rose on your skin.  Beneath your bra, your nipples pebbled from both the cold and your arousal.  Eddie made short work of that garment, too, not bothering with the clasp.  In less than a second, your bra was in pieces on the floor beside your poor, poor shirt.  

Eddie paused, taking in the sight of your chest.  His hands slipped up and over your waist, stopping just beneath your breasts, “Holy shit,” his voice was rough, gravely- and it had you arching up into his hold, “You’re so fucking beautiful.  So fucking perfect.”

He leaned in, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, nipping at your flesh ever so slightly.  His fangs threatened to pierce your skin, and you knew you wouldn’t mind if they did.  You meant what you said.  Eddie could have his way with you however he liked.  He could cut you, bleed you, break you, and you would let him.  You would lie there for him and just let him take everything he wanted.  (Of course, you knew he wouldn’t.  He loved you far too much to ever cause you real harm.)

You let out a whine, running your hands into Eddie’s hair.  It was a little difficult- your wrists were still bound- but you did your best.  He moaned, lips still against your skin, and you found yourself writhing at the sensation.  Your body begged for more, for him to do more than touch and bite- you wanted to be fucked.

“Eddie, please- please,” the attempt was sweet, but your pleas went ignored.  Eddie pulled his mouth away from your nipple, moving just slightly to mark up the rest of your chest.  You tilted your head back, panting as his hands descended to the hem of your shorts, squeezing and scratching your sides as he went.

“Eds, please-”

“That’s it, good girl,” Eddie purred, teeth still against your chest, “Beg for me.”

You whined, bucking your hips up, trying to get some friction.  Eddie laughed a little as you tried desperately to squeeze your thighs together.  The leg he kept between yours prevented it, and you groaned, tugging on his hair in retaliation.

Eddie moaned, leaning back until you could see his eyes shut in pleasure, “So pretty.  And such a fucking brat-”

He sunk his fangs deep into your chest.  You cried out, digging your nails into his scalp.  You keened weakly as he drank from you.  He didn’t take much- he was already enduring what could be considered a blood overdose- but he did take enough to shut you up, to make you hurt.

When he pulled away, you were a mewling mess beneath him.  Your whines only got louder when he dragged his tongue over the bite wound.  A sharp grin exposed his fangs, now stained with your blood.  He leaned in, kissing you deeply, sliding his tongue passed your lips.  You could taste the copper tang of your life in his mouth.  

He pulled away, breathless, and in seconds he was back on your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your arm, biting at your wrist and drawing blood before he moved back to your chest.  He pulled your other nipple between his teeth, nipping and biting, making you whine.  You moved your body against the thigh he kept between your legs, grinding on it.  You were desperate and Eddie knew it.

He kissed down your stomach, biting at your hip as his grip tightened on the fabric of your shorts.  You yelped at the sting of his teeth, the sharp piercing of his fangs in your flesh.  Eddie’s tongue laved over your hip, lapping up the blood that dripped down your side.  He tore your shorts to pieces before the blood could stain them, ripping your panties off with them.

A loud gasp escaped you, and you let out a whine as the cold barn air met with your dripping cunt.  Eddie’s smile was almost shark-like.  Lots of teeth.

“So pretty,” Eddie whispered, “And so wet for me, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the new bite mark hip before he continued, “Y’know, watching you fuck yourself for me- I’d only last so long before I just took you for myself.”

Two fingers moved up your slit, gathering your arousal before meeting with your clit.  His skin was rough, callused from fighting and from his guitar.  His touch was electric, sending shockwaves through your spine.  You couldn’t hold back your moan, nor could you control your hips as they bucked up into his hand.

“S-so,” you tried to speak as his fingers moved in tight circles over your sensitive nub, “You’d still fuck me, then?”

“I’d clean your fingers off first, but yes.”

“Oh, good.  So either way, I get what I want.”

He paused his ministrations and pulled his fingers away entirely, digging them into your sides.  You made a noise of protest, but Eddie remained still.  For a second, he just stared at you, half squinting.  In the time it took to blink, his teeth were on your chest again.  He didn’t break the skin, but he got so dangerously close to it that you couldn’t help but shiver as want dripped down your thighs.

Eddie’s grip tightened on you, and you wondered what the bruises his ring-clad fingers left on your hips would look like later on.  An especially sharp bite pulled you back to the present.  You mewled, whining as Eddie nipped at the soft skin over your heart.  You could almost feel your blood pumping faster through your veins, sending that same fire through each one of your nerves.

Slowly, though, Eddie’s fangs distanced themselves from you.  It was just his lips on your skin.  The pressure was still bruising to be sure, but something had changed.

“I’ll give you whatever you want.  Whatever,” you could feel Eddie speaking against you, his breath warm on your chest, “Whatever you want, just stay with me.”

A few short moments ago, he’d been begging you to run away from him.  Now, he wanted you to stay.  A quick kiss to your bloodied temple told you why.

‘I will,” you pulled his forehead to yours, locking eyes with him, “I promise I will.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, wrapping your arms around his neck as your nails gently scratched at his scalp.  He melted into your touch before leaning in, pressing his soft lips against yours.  The kiss was so gentle, so different from the harsh bites and scratches he’d delivered so far.  Your body overflowed with want, a broken fountain pouring desire onto the floor.

“You,” you muttered against him, “Are everything I want.”

He looked down at you for a second, eyes wide and wanting.  You leaned up, capturing his lips with yours.  One of his hands came up, cupping your face gently, holding you like you were something precious.  Your lips fit against his perfectly.  The fire inside you was threatening to take down the goddamn barn.  

You paused.  Wrapping a strand of Eddie’s hair around your fingers, you gave a slight tug.  You met his gaze with a small smile, removing your arms from around his neck and bringing them in front of you.

“Also, I would like to be untied, please.”

He laughed and did as you asked, freeing you with a swipe of his claw.  Instantly, your hands were on his face, your fingers running over his cheekbones, sweeping under his eyes.  With your new freedom, you were able to run your hands up and through his hair properly.  Above you, Eddie seemed to purr.

Eddie lowered himself, kissing and biting down your breasts and stomach, leaving bruises as he went.  His movements were the same as before, but there was a new passion to them.  You brushed your fingers over his shoulders, scratching at him slightly.  He gripped onto the soft skin of your inner thighs, threatening to tear into it.  You arched your hips up towards him.  He grabbed them, grip tight and claws digging in.  You cried out quietly as he pushed them back to the ground.  Your back stung slightly, but the pain was quickly put out of your mind.

“Stay put for me, will you, sweetheart?”

You barely had a moment to register his words.  His lips met with your heat, and you cried out at the sensation.  His tongue moved up and down, teasing your entrance before his lips closed around your clit.  You couldn't keep your thighs from closing around his head when you felt the harsh edges of his teeth.  He didn’t seem to mind.  More than that, he moaned against you.  You had to fight to keep still beneath him.

Eddie kissed and bit you, eating you out like a man starved, like an animal that hadn’t been fed in an eternity or longer.  The pleasure he brought you was almost violent in nature.  You let out a string of incomprehensible words, moaning and whimpering as he drank your arousal.  

“You taste so good, baby,” he pressed his lips to your clit, “So sweet.  You’re perfect.”

One of his hands slid back up your body, leaving goosebumps behind.  He stopped between your breasts, strong fingers pressed against your sternum ever so slightly, holding you still.  Over the next few moments, as his teeth and tongue teased you relentlessly, dragging you to the edge at a rapid pace, your hand slipped into his.  His claws bit into your skin.  Your nails bit into his.

“Fuck- fuck, Eddie-”

“Gettin’ close, sweetheart?  Gonna cum for me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your words fell to nothing as you cried out his name, shaking as you came for him.  Your voice echoed off the walls, and Eddie didn’t think he’d ever heard a sweeter sound.  He could feel your heart racing under his hand, your pulse racing through your wrist.  The way your fingers squeezed around his- like you wanted him, like you needed him- made him feel weak.  

It took you a minute to come back to earth.  You could barely hear Eddie shrugging off his shirt and jacket over the sound of your own panting.  The metallic clink of his belt buckle meeting the floor as he removed it got your attention.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him.  Your eyes traced up his slender waist, over scarred and tattooed skin.  His wings cast sharp shadows over his body.  He freed his cock from his pants, and you tried to keep yourself from drooling as it sprang up against his stomach.

Eddie had always been gifted.  He had always been big, thick- the sight of him was always enough to make your mouth water.  Even before the Upside Down had so kindly bestowed him with new shit, you thought he was perfect.  But after?  

You weren’t sure why Vecna had decided to give your boyfriend’s cock ridges and a few extra inches, but you weren’t about to look a gift dick in the mouth.  You would never get used to the sight- it would always make you shiver with want, make you drip with need.  Perhaps a rational person would be intimidated by the sheer size of him, by the ridges that now covered his length, but you?  Never.  You didn’t care about anything.  You didn’t fear anything.  You just wanted him.

Your eyes caught his- honey shining in the twilight, warm, wanting, and slightly hesitant.  His pupils were blown out, dark voids drinking in the sight of you.  He wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath.  He wanted to take a second to kiss you and to hold you close.  Eddie wanted to be gentle, but something deep inside him- specifically all the blood he’d drained from you and your attackers- demanded that he get his cock inside you as fast as he fucking could.  

“Baby, are you- are you sure you want this?  I’m not- I’m not gonna be nice.”

“I don’t care, I don’t-” you sat up, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him down on top of you, “I want you, Eds.  I don’t care about anything else.”

“Okay.  Okay, just- promise me you’ll stop me.  If I hurt you, or if it’s too much, promise you’ll stop me.”

“I will,” you could barely hear yourself over the pounding of your heart, “Whatever you need, I promise.”

He took a deep breath before taking his cock in his hand, stroking it twice.  He lined himself up with your entrance, pressing against you ever so slightly.  He kissed up your jaw, pressing his lips against your ear before he whispered, “I love you.  And I’m sorry.”

In one swift movement, he was inside you, buried to the hilt.  You were wet and ready for him, but the sudden stretch- the sudden ache of his length pressing against your walls was still a lot for your already sore body to take.  Tears sprang to your eyes.  A scream tore itself from your throat before you could block it, mingling in the air with the sound of Eddie’s moans.

You could see the guilt in his eyes, but he didn’t slow his pace.  His thrusts were fast and deep, almost violent in their intensity.  The drag of his cock inside your needy cunt- the feeling of his veins and ridges against your walls- had your eyes rolling back, had you moaning like some mindless slut.  

Eddie wasn’t doing much better.  He quickly lost himself in the feeling of your body writhing under his, squeezing his dick every time moved.  He brushed against a spot inside you that made you see stars.  Your muscles clenched as his cock brushed it over and over again.  Pain and pleasure shot through you, sparking through your veins and making you dig your nails into his back.  He barely felt it.

Eddie took your hips into his hands, his grip bruising, his claws digging in.  You could feel your blood pooling beneath his claws, staining his nails red.  His lips were against your chest again, his teeth biting and scratching your skin.  You barely noticed.  You were too focused on him, on his cock forcing its way deeper and deeper inside, finding places that only he could reach.  

“Still with me, sweetheart?” His voice was raspy, rough around the edges as he tried to catch breath that he didn’t technically need.

“Still with you,” your voice was just as breathless as his, “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.  The sound of his hips slamming into yours cut through the silence of the night.  Your fingers moved over Eddie’s back, scratching white lines into his skin.  Your hands danced over the bones and flesh of his wings, darting over every sensitive spot.  You knew his body well, and in seconds he was melting into you.  Maybe it was a dirty move- you pulling out all of the stops on him- but you were sure he didn’t mind if his moans were anything to go by.  His cock twitched inside your walls, and you moaned at the sensation.  You were weak and wanting, and he was much the same.

“That’s it, baby,” he purred, “That’s my girl.  So fucking good for me, so tight.”

His words slurred together, morphing into a low growl as he fucked into you.  The smell of sex filled the barn, overtaking the stench of blood and decay.  The barn itself seemed to fade further and further from view with every stroke, leaving only Eddie behind.  For the moment, it was just the two of you.  There were no threats to your life, no disgusted old ladies in grocery stores, and no jocks that wanted you dead.  It was just you and the boy you loved.

One of his hands left your hip, moving back downwards to press his fingers against your clit.  You could feel him trying to set a pace while also trying to keep his claws from scratching your delicate skin.  As his fingers traced those familiar tight circles, you spiralled under him, walls clenching down around him as you drowned in the feeling of his skin on yours.

You could faintly hear him whispering filthy things in your ear- descriptions of all the depraved things he would do to you spoken over the deafening roar of your beating heart and the sound of skin on skin.  Between words, his lips pressed kisses to every part of you that he could reach.  Tears rolled down your cheeks as you neared overstimulation.  Eddie kissed them away.

Mindlessly, one of your hands slipped away from his wings and over his side.  Your fingers brushed something wet, a gouge in Eddie’s skin.  The bullet wound.  Immediately he flinched, clenching his jaw tightly to keep from crying out.  You pulled back with near-inhuman speed, but the damage had been done.  In your panic, you didn’t notice Eddie’s pained gasp turning into a laugh.  You didn’t feel his cock pulsing inside you.  As apologies spilled from your mouth, he took your now-bloodied hand in his free one.

“Damn,” he spoke over you, his voice rough and low, “I guess I deserved that, huh?”

You stared up at him, stunned into silence.  Your face burned under his gaze.  Even if you knew how to respond to that, you didn’t get the chance.  Eddie brought your fingers to and past his lips, stealing your breath from your lungs in the process.  His tongue moved around your fingers with a certain grace as he licked the cranberry colour of his blood off of your skin.  The sight of it- of his lips around your fingers, drawing you in- was enough to take you to the edge.  A little added pressure on your clit was enough to send you over, into a white-hot abyss.

You cried out as your walls clenched down around him.  Tears stained your cheeks as your orgasm overtook you.  Eddie pulled back, groaning slightly.  Transparent strings connected his lips to your now damp fingers.  A devilish grin overtook his features, “You liked that, huh?  You came hard for me, sweet thing.”

You let out an embarrassingly loud whine in agreement, your body shaking as it came down from its high.  Eddie let out a groan that matched your volume as he moved his hips against yours at a harsh and unforgiving pace.  

He panted, “I’m- I’m gonna need you to use your words, baby.  Need you to- fuck- need you to tell me.  You can do that for me, right?”

You let out another whimper before you let out a broken confession, “I- I liked that,” he leaned in to kiss you, but you cut him off again, “But you didn’t deserve it.  You don’t deserve to be hurt- unless y’know, it’s kinky.”

Eddie froze for a second.  Your words had caught him off guard.  As he stilled inside you, his smile changed.  Everything about him became less devilish and more genuine.  He broke eye contact.  You could just see a pink flush spread over the pale skin of his neck and cheeks as he buried his face in your shoulder.  When he spoke again, his words were muffled by your flesh against his mouth.

“You’re too good to me.”

His thrusts picked back up again, the same as they were before.  He slowly placed your hand back where he found it, “Far too good.”

A sharp sting spread through your body as his teeth pierced your flesh.  A fresh round of tears pooled in your eyes at the new ache.  Blood dripped down your shoulder and over your chest, painting red lines down your tits.  Ruby-red droplets jumped slightly with each snap of his hips.  You felt him twitch at the sight of it.  His grip tightened, and he made a sound somewhere between a growl and a purr.

“You’re- fuck,” his voice edged on wicked, desperation seeping in as he reached up to wipe your tears away, “You’re mine.  I’m gonna make sure everyone knows who you belong to.  Gonna make sure they know- make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

“Please, Eds.  I want you- I want you to claim me.  Want you to show them that I’m just your slut-”

Eddie felt a twinge in his chest, guilt taking arousal’s usual place.  Degradation was usually fun to some degree, but he knew what people in this town called you.  He knew what they thought you were and he knew the danger it put you in; and with the events that had led you here, his fear was raw.  Worry burned through his head, turning brain cells into exposed wires.  His lips quickly pressed his lips to yours bringing your pleas to a brief halt.   When he pulled away, he whispered, “You know you’re more than that, right?”

“I know,” you leaned up to kiss him, recognizing the emotion in his eyes, “A thing can be two things.  I’m a person, and I’m yours, body and soul.  Just yours.”

He shut his eyes, chasing down your lips and kissing you breathless.  It was sweet, not gentle, but kind- and you wanted to change that.  You wrapped your teeth over his lower lip and bit down.  You didn’t draw blood.  You weren’t sure that you could, but you sure as hell tried.  Eddie growled, but before he could say anything, you were whispering into him again.

“You’re mine, too.  Remember that.”

The smile that crossed his face was blinding.  Desire consumed him again as his hips moved against yours.  His thrusts came faster, deeper, and impossibly harder.  His eyes clouded over with lust, and you were pretty sure that if you had a mirror, you would see the same thing reflected in your own face.  The want.  The need.  Your body melted beneath Eddie’s as he fucked into you the way he said he would- like a fucking animal.

Your body craved his- you wanted him to keep his word, to take you, claim you, protect you.  You wondered, briefly, what it said about you- that you wanted your partner to commit acts of violence in your name.  You brushed those thoughts away as a familiar tension began to build in your core.

As your edge grew nearer, Eddie could feel his monstrous instincts overtake him.  He knew that his grip on your body was just a bit too firm, that he was leaving dark bruises and deep bite marks all over you.  If he wasn’t careful, he would hurt you, but careful seemed to be the last thing you wanted.  You kept begging him for more, arching your body into his, digging your nails into him.  Soft, depraved pleas escaped your lips, morphing into cries as you came undone beneath him.

Eddie wasn’t sure what happened next.  He blinked, eyes falling shut, and when he opened them, he was using your body with a level of violence he had always tried to keep you from.  

A broken scream ripped its way out of your throat as the head of Eddie’s cock rammed against your cervix with bruising force.  A blinding agony spread through you, crawling through your nerves and making you gasp for air.  You could barely feel Eddie’s claws digging into your sides, barely feel it as he thrust back into you.  Your thighs slammed shut around his hips.  A whimper escaped your lips as your nails scratched down his back, desperately searching for purchase.  

Eddie paused for a split second, looking down at you with wide, panicked eyes.  He didn’t stop.  He couldn’t stop.  He hated himself for it.  You took a deep breath as he kept moving, as he kept thrusting deep within your walls.  You tried to relax, to let the pain fade.  You failed.  You felt the head of his cock hit your cervix a second time, and you bit down on your lip, drawing blood.  Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held back a scream- you couldn’t hold back your pleas for mercy.

“Eddie-” your voice broke, “Eddie, stop.  Please, please, stop- I can’t-”

All pleasure had left your voice, leaving only pain and fear behind.  Again, he didn’t stop.  He wanted to stop- he desperately wanted to stop.  He needed to stop, and he knew that.  He was hurting you, and that killed him, but some shameful part of his blood-drunk mind was excited by your pain.  It wanted to keep going, even if he didn’t.

In a panic-fueled attempt to end your agony, your hands pressed against Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him back.  It was enough to snap him out of it and make him stop- and it made him notice the blood dripping over your lip and down your chin.

The first word to pass his lips was, “No.”

There was a deep, disbelieving horror in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he had done to you.  He reached for you, slowly and cautiously, giving you plenty of time to stop him.  When you didn’t, he wiped the blood off your face with his thumb, cradling your jaw with the rest of his fingers.  

“Shit- shit, shit, shit,” his other hand came up to hover near your face.  Tears filled his eyes.  If you didn’t see it, you would’ve heard it in his voice.  Your boy sounded so broken,  “I’m sorry, baby, fuck, I’m sorry.  I wasn’t careful enough.  I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“I know, baby.  I know.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “You know.”

Eddie wrapped his hands around yours and pinned your arms to the concrete above your head.   He kept your fingers intertwined.  As much as he hated himself for it, he didn’t want to let go.  A whimper escaped you, and you watched Eddie’s face as he shut his eyes and hissed.  For a moment, you thought he was hurt.

“Eddie-”

“You know that the man you love is a monster.  You know that every time I touch you, I risk hurting you.  You know I could kill you, the same way I killed those men tonight.  The same way they tried to kill you, I could just-”

His hands squeezed yours.  He wouldn’t look you in the eye.  He looked anywhere else, just not into your eyes.

“Eddie,” your voice was softer, reassuring.

“Sweetheart, when I fuck you, you are being violated by a monster.  If I claim you, it means that you’re owned by a monster.  If we-if I got you pregnant, if you had my kids… they’d be like me. A monster just like their dad.”

He shifted slightly, preparing to pull away from you as he began to sink into that familiar pit of self-loathing. Eddie had barely moved an inch when you latched onto him further, clinging to him, wrapping your legs around his hips to make him stay.  

“You think this is a violation?  Eddie, I asked for this.  Do you not want-?”

“Oh god.  Baby, I want this.  I want you, more than I should, but I hurt you.  I didn’t stop when you needed me to, and that- it terrifies me.  This was a mistake, I never should’ve-”

“I don’t think this was a mistake.  Any of it,” you sat up a bit, just enough to press your forehead against his, “You stopped.  I’m okay.  And, uh… I kind of liked what you were saying.  But-”

“But?”

“You really think our kids would be monsters?” you asked, “With you as their father?  No way.  Menaces, maybe, but not monsters.”

He said nothing, but a small smile crossed his face.  He didn’t pull any further away.  He just stared at you with those sweet doe eyes of his, so warm, so enamoured with you, and still so full of guilt.   

It wasn’t a surprise that his mind had gone to such a place- he had killed a bunch of people moments before, fucked you on top of their bodies, and now, he had hurt you.  It was an accident, you both knew that, but the guilt would eat him alive if he let it.  You weren’t willing to let that happen.  You hadn’t let those dark thoughts get to him in the past, and you sure as shit weren’t going to start now.

“Eddie.  Everything you did tonight, you did to save me.  Everything you do is to protect the people you love and care about.  Tonight, two years ago, and even further back. You love with everything you have.  You- are so brave, and so deeply kind, even if you pretend not to be, and if that makes you a monster, then I hope our children are monsters, too.  And I hope they have your eyes.”

He remained still for a moment.  His expression betrayed both his shock at your statement and his want.  In the next second, his lips were on yours.  He let go of your wrists, bringing his hands back to your face.  

“I love you,” he whispered into the kiss, “I love you, I love you.”

You leaned up and into him, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “I love you too.  So much.  And I want you to remember, I also killed a man tonight.  If you’re a monster, then…”

He let out a quiet laugh, lips moving down your neck, feathering kisses over your skin all the way to your collarbone, “We’re monsters together, then.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, “Exactly,” you purred.  You paused for a second, becoming violently aware of the weight of his cock inside of you.  You taped your fingers against his spine before you thrust your hips down against his, “You can, uh… you can start again now.  I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

You leaned closer, whispering against his lips, “I am.”

He pressed his lips to yours, tongue slipping between your lips as he began to thrust into you again.  His pace was quick, but not painful, and not quite so unforgiving.  Your fingers reached up to wrap around the messy strands of his hair, tugging gently.  He moaned into the kiss, sounding hungry and desperate once again.

As you drew nearer to your edge, your thoughts began to race.  His words spilled through your mind, drowning your psyche with every sentiment he’d put forward.  He loves you deeply.  He’s terrified of hurting you.  He’s desperate to keep you safe.  You mean something to him.  He’s thought about having kids with you, and you wanted him to think about that- fuck.

Your walls tightened around him.  His cock twitched inside of you as he neared his own edge.  

You whimpered out Eddie’s name, tugging on his hair until he pulled away from you.  His brows furrowed in concern as he took in the sight of you, but you didn’t look like you were in pain.  Your eyes were wide, filled with lust, and your chest heaved with every breath you took.  You were covered in blood and sweat, and you were the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen.  He felt your hands move to his face, and his gaze focused on your lips as you spoke.

“Eddie,” your voice was soft, “I need you to cum inside me.”

You watched as his eyes widened, as his lips parted in shock and a faint blush covered his cheeks.  You were kind of proud that even in a moment this intimate, you could still get him to flush like that.

“You- you want me to-?”

You nodded, cutting him off and pulling him closer, “I want you to fill me up.  Breed me, please.”

He shivered, a current of electricity running through him at your words.  His body and his instincts screamed at him to do exactly as you’d said.  

“You,” he whispered, “You’re perfect.”

His mouth slipped downwards, lips pressing against the space between your throat and your shoulder.  His teeth sunk into your shoulder.  Pain spread through your skin, white-hot as your blood dripped over your chest.  Your muscles spasmed around him as the coil snapped.  Your grip tightened on his hair.  You could faintly hear him cry out in your own haze.  His claws dug into you as he fell over that all-consuming edge.

Eddie bit down harder on your throat as he came, drinking just enough from you to make you see stars.  His cock throbbed against your walls as his seed spread inside you, thick, and hot, and perfect.  You clung to him, your breath stuttering as your muscles clenched, milking him for more.  

As he finished, the monstrous need to fuck and breed you faded away to nothing.  He was left with the more human parts of him after that- the parts of him that knew what aftercare was and that you would need it, the parts of him that knew he had to get you somewhere safe, somewhere away from the bodies of your attackers.  Your body was limp beneath Eddie’s.  Your eyes were closed, and your lips slightly parted.  You were fucked out, completely cock drunk, and utterly perfect.

Eddie brushed your hair off your face.  You could hear him repeating your name softly as you came back to earth.  When you opened your eyes, he was hovering above you, looking at you with more affection than you could put into words.

“Hi,” he said, voice low and slightly shaky.

“Hi,” you let one of your hands move up to his face, brushing your fingers over his cheek.

“You okay, pretty girl?”

“‘M more than okay.”

He smiled, taking your hand from his cheek and pressing his lips to it, “Thank god, I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t.”

“You’d probably lose your mind.”

“Oh, I’d definitely lose my mind.”

You finally caught your breath as he kissed each of your knuckles and your wrist before he brushed his lips down your arm and to your shoulder.  He let his cheek rest against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as it finally slowed down to something resembling normal.

Once it had, he lifted his head back up to look you in the eye, “We should probably get out of here, though.  Get you home.”

“God, I would like that so much.”

He pulled himself up until he was kneeling, fixing his pants and passing his shirt to you.  You pulled it over your head, watching as he got to his feet.  He held out his hands to you and you took them, letting him help you to stand.  You shook slightly, weak in the knees from both the attack and from everything Eddie had done to you.  You buried your face in his chest as his cum dripped down from your abused cunt onto your thigh.

“Ah,” you hissed, “I have no pants.”

Eddie left a hand on your arm, supporting you as he stooped down to collect your torn clothes, “I guess there’s no saving these?”

You shook your head, smiling slightly as he winced.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it baby,” you leaned up and kissed his cheek, “It was more than worth it.”

His grin showed you his teeth.  He picked up his jacket off the ground and wrapped it around your shoulders.  You still had no pants, but it would be enough for now.  You pressed a kiss to his bare collarbone as thanks.  He tilted your chin up with two fingers and kissed you properly.

“Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s go home.”

You pulled away from him for a second, looking around at the abandoned barn.  It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie.  Blood covered the floor and stained the walls.  Seven bodies laid out on the concrete, mutilated in various ways.  You felt Eddie’s fingers on your jaw, gently bringing your gaze back to him.

His eyes were wide- something in them was almost scared.  He didn’t want you to fear him- to hate him.  He didn’t want you to think that he was a monster, but the bodies in the room only led to one conclusion- and you didn’t mind it.  Monster or otherwise, Eddie was yours.  

“Yeah,” you brushed your lips against his, “Let’s go home.”

A grin crossed his face, and the fear faded from his eyes as he bent down and scooped you up, pulling you into his arms.  Maybe two years ago, when he was still human, he wouldn’t have been able to carry you home, but his vampiric strength was at present, a gift.

You let your head rest against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as he stepped through the blood, out of the barn, and into the night.

-

You fell asleep on the way home.  You shut your eyes outside the barn, with the moon shining above you like a pearl in an inky black ocean, and opened them in the safety of the home you shared with Eddie- Hopper’s old cabin.

It had been in a bit of a state when Hopper had given it to you, but it was more than worth the hours you’d spent fixing it.  It was a safe place for Eddie to stay- secret, isolated.  It was the only place you could stay without the fear of capture and torture hanging over your heads.

At least, it had been.  But that fear had come too close, breaking down your door and ripping its way into your life.  You had been saved this time, but the experience followed you home.  You weren’t sure what would come next.

You turned your focus away from the nebulous future and towards the present.  Beneath you, your couch was soft.  The living room was warmly lit by a lamp on the end side table next to you.  You couldn’t see Eddie, but you could hear the sound of the tap running in the bathroom.  From your spot, you could see grocery bags neatly folded on your kitchen table.  With them sat a bottle of cranberry juice.  You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry at the sight of it.

You sat up and immediately, you had regrets.  Every inch of your body ached.  Your face stung from the blows you’d taken, and the space between your legs burned and throbbed.  The bite marks that marred your skin stung, and you somehow managed to hit every bruise you had in the small act of sitting up.

Despite that pain, you forced yourself to try and stand.  You failed miserably.  Your knees buckled beneath you, and before you could do anything to maintain your balance, you were back on the couch.  The door to the bathroom swung open, and Eddie burst out with a wet cloth in hand.

“Shit!  You’re up, hi!”

You couldn’t help but smile at him as he sped towards the couch.  He was still shirtless, wearing the same pants he’d worn while saving you.  His missing shirt still covered your body and your legs were still bare.  His jacket was thrown over the back of the couch beside you.

“Hi,” you reached out for him as he got to the couch.  He took your hand in his, kissing it before he placed another kiss on your lips.

“Hey, hi,” he pulled back from you, giving your hand a squeeze, “Sorry, pretty thing, I was just- I was trying to get you cleaned up.”

“Oh!  Well,” you reached for the hem of your shirt, “That should be a little easier now that I’m up, right?”

He flushed as you pulled your shirt over your head.  It didn’t seem to matter that his cock had been inside you maybe an hour earlier, he still went red at the sight of your boobs.  You smirked at him, reaching out and running a hand through his hair.

“You are far too cute, Eddie Munson.”

“And you,” he pushed you back onto the couch, throwing himself down next to you and pulling your legs over his lap, “Are far too beautiful, sweetheart.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“So, do you uh- are you okay with this?” he raised the wet washcloth in his hand, “Or do you wanna shower, or?”

“Well, I would get up, but when I tried I fell, so,” you grimaced.

“I could help you,” he gave your leg a squeeze, “Could hold you, up if you want.”

You sat up, pressing kisses to his jaw, “I would like that.”

With a smile, he wrapped your arms around his neck and picked you back up.  The trip to the bathroom was a short one.  It took even less time for Eddie to remove his clothes and get both of you into the shower.

You kept your arms around him, leaning into his chest as warm water flowed over your back.  You could feel your muscles begin to relax, knots unravelling the longer you stood there.  Slowly, he started to move.  His touch was heartbreakingly gentle as he cleaned every bite mark and every bruise.  

In turn, you washed the sweat and blood that came with the fight off of him.  Your fingers grazed his side, and you were pleased to find that the gunshot wound he’d taken had almost healed completely.  Your hand remained there for a second, your touch feather-light and shaking slightly.  You didn’t want to hurt him.

“Hey,” you whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He laughed a little, though the sound was void of joy, “Yeah?  I’m glad that you’re alive.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to your shoulder before asking you to hang onto him.  Your hands clutched onto him as he knelt before you, washing off your thighs.  You took a deep breath as his hands neared your cunt.  He looked up at you with wide eyes, a question held within them.

He quickly put it into words, “You down for round two?”

You grinned as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “Yes, please.”

His mouth was on you in an instant.  He hooked your knees over his shoulders, pressing you up against the shower wall, keeping you steady with his hands.  You tilted your head back at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your arousal.  You found yourself biting down on your bottom lip as his lips wrapped around your clit.  Your hands moved over your chest, pinching lightly at your nipples.  In minutes, you were coming undone against him.  Both of you were breathless as he pulled himself away from you.

When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips.  You wondered if he could taste himself in you.  He cradled your face in his hands

“How’re you feeling?”

“Stupid good,” you murmured, brushing strands of Eddie’s dripping hair out of his eyes.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as he kissed you a thousand more times.  You let out a content hum, smiling into him as you lost yourself in him.

As the two of you climbed out of the shower, you caught sight of your body in the mirror.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the reflection of your bruised and battered body.  Bitemarks littered your skin.  Splotches of red and purple covered your skin. 

You felt heat build within you at the sight of everything Eddie had done- and you felt your stomach twist at the sight of the things he hadn’t.  The marks he hadn’t left would leave scars on your mind.  You hoped they wouldn’t stain your body longer than they had to.

Eddie noticed your gaze, your eyes riveted to the mirror.  He stood from where he’d been drying off your legs and moved to stand behind you.  He took your arms in his hands, running them down until your fingers intertwined with his over your stomach.  He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, just under the bloodied spot where Kurt’s gun had struck you so much earlier.  

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, gently rocking you from side to side.

“Hey, don’t apologize.  You aren’t the one who kidnapped me at gunpoint and threatened to break my bones by way of gun,” you shook your head at the ridiculous nature of your captors’ plans, but Eddie had a different reaction.

He buried his face in your shoulder, letting out a whine, “Jesus Christ.”

His hands started to shake against your skin.  His breath sped up as his arms tightened around you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  That never should’ve happened, they never should’ve gotten to you.”

“Hey,” you broke eye contact with your reflection in the mirror and turned around in Eddie’s hold, “There was nothing you could have done.  If you had been with me, they would have tried to hurt you.  Maybe they would’ve succeeded.  And we needed groceries, so-”

“Then I should’ve sent Steve with you.  Or Nancy, just someone-”

“I had Max.  She’s arguably scarier than Steve and- oh shit, Max,” you pushed away from Eddie, stumbling as you took a step back, “Max, is she okay!?  Did someone get her?”

Eddie kept your forearms in his hands, helping to keep you steady, “Deep breaths, sweetheart, deep breaths.  Max is alright.  As soon as she called me I had Steve go and get her, ironically enough.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you let out a tired breath as you collapsed against Eddie’s chest, “I guess we have them to thank for the grocery bags on the table?”

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “That we do.”

“God, I’m gonna have to call them.  To say thank you.  And sorry, my God,” you rubbed at your eyes with one hand, “I can’t believe I put Max through that, holy shit.”

“Hey, hey, you didn’t put Max through anything.  You got her out of there.  That was the best thing you could do, you kept her safe.  Besides,” he moved back to look you in the eye, “Red’s a tough kid.  She’s dealt with worse than this.”

“I know,” your voice was half a groan, “I still feel bad, though.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie gently grabbed a hold of you, turning you around to face yourself in the mirror.  His hands slipped back into yours, and he brought them back to the expanse of your stomach, “You’ve had, what some would call, a long day, sweetheart.”

You leaned into him, letting out a soft whine when he pressed his lips to your shoulder.  You squeezed his hands, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Eddie squeezed back, “Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

“Fuck.  Yes, please.”

He picked you up again, pulling you into his arms and letting your head rest against his chest.  You felt a bit ridiculous having him carry you around your small home, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice.  Your legs were tired, too weak to carry you.  Fortunately, Eddie was more than strong enough.

He laid you on the bed gently, planting a kiss over your new bitemarks before he crawled into bed with you.  He started at your side, but within minutes, he was on top of you, his head resting between your breasts.  He took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers before kissing them gently.

The two of you lay in silence for a few moments.  You ran a hand through his still-damp hair, listening to the sound of your breathing and his.  For perhaps the first time today, you were both breathing evenly, completely calm.  

On top of you, Eddie was listening to the sound of your heartbeat, sure and steady beneath him.  He had spent so much of the day afraid that he would never hear that sound again.  He had been terrified that he was going to lose you- that the town that had taken so much from him would take you, too.

But it hadn’t.  It had tried, the jocks had tried, but he had stopped them.  You were safe now.  Safe, and protected, and Eddie seriously didn’t plan on letting you out of his sight for a few days.

“Hey,” you whispered, “How did you- how did you know where I was?  Max saw me get kidnapped, but she didn’t know where they took me after.”

His fingers brushed over your temple, “I could smell your blood.  Almost killed me when I noticed it.  The stronger it got… the more I wanted to end them.”

You leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his.

“I wouldn’t take back what I did,” he continued, “I don’t regret it.  I could never regret it.  But I’m- I’m afraid that all I am is a weapon.  That all I’ll ever be is a weapon.  The things Vecna made me do…” he faded off into silence, pulling away and rubbing his hands over his eyes.

You sat up with him, reaching out to trace his strong, scarred arms.  You could do nothing but watch as a war raged inside the man you loved.  Guilt slipped beneath your skin, thrumming beneath muscle and bone.  Eddie had protected you- he killed for you without remorse, and you were excited by that violence.  You wondered again what that said about you.

Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead to Eddie’s.  He relaxed against you, calmed by your touch.

“Hey, you know you’re more than that, right?”  You echoed his words from earlier, “You’re not a weapon, you’re not his puppet, you’re-”

“I’m your man,” he said, a small grin crossing his face, “Your protector.  Your slut.”

You giggled, shocked and pleased, and Eddie looked so proud to be the cause of the smile on your face.  When his laughter subsided, you crawled into his hold, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your waist.  You sat there for a moment, taking in his lack of a heartbeat as he listened to the steady rhythm of yours.

“You know this goes both ways, right?” You whispered, running your fingers over the spot where his wings met his back, “You protect me, I protect you?  And we protect… whatever comes along.  I might not have the claws or the fangs, but I’ve been told I can be a bit of a bitch when I want to be, so there’s that.”

Eddie pulled you closer to him, pinning your chest to his and holding you there as he laid back on the mattress.  One of his hands brushed through your hair while the other traced intricate patterns over your back.  You shut your eyes and let yourself bury your face in the space between his neck and his shoulder.

“I know,” he tilted his face to press a kiss to your head, “I couldn’t have asked for a better bodyguard.”

You smiled against his throat, “Neither could I.”

You hummed contentedly as he pulled a blanket over your bodies.  The mindless motions of his calloused hands on your back pulled the tension from your muscles, making you relax.  Your eyelids grew heavy as you breathed him in- the faint scents of blood and cigarette smoke overtaken by the smell of your body wash.  You were so calm, unafraid, and bizarrely happy for a woman who had spent most of her day trying not to die at the hands of her kidnappers.  

Maybe having sex on the corpses of your enemies was just a natural mood booster.  Maybe it was the man you were having sex with.

“You make me feel safe,” you murmured, words slurred with sleep, “Always have.”

“Good,” his voice was quiet, but he sounded like he was wide awake.  You focused on the feeling of his hand running through your hair, of his skin, ice cold beneath your lips.

“Keep doing it?”

“I always will, sweetheart.  I won’t let anything hurt you.  I won’t lose you.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, and you smiled against his neck, “Good.  Protect me.”

Without waiting for a response, you pulled his skin between your teeth and bit down; hard enough to bruise, but not hard enough to draw the sweet cranberry-coloured wine that ran through his veins.  His soft moan was music to your ears.  With your lips on his throat, and his hands in your hair, you fell into a dreamless sleep.  Eddie stayed awake through the night, keeping watch over you until the sun began to rise. 

[lynnlovesthestars]

Hi! I’m new to your blog and have been loving all of your works!

If you’re comfortable with it, I was wondering how you think Astarion would react/feel about a virgin tav/reader who went through SA when they were younger, and wish to wait until they are both completely ready and comfortable with being intimate?

Hii, I can definitely do it, though i will merge it with another ask I received- asking to write hcs about Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.

I will say, making it with the hc has been a little easier on me, usually when i write about SA i spend an insane amount of time making sure i'm comfortable and you (readers) are as well, and i hesitate a lot before publishing it *(queue up scars and blood, that I wrote on an impulse after a nightmare, and it took me a solid week before publishing it)*

ANYWAYS.

ofc I hope this will be of comfort to you, and it won't trigger you.. sometimes all we want is to find solace into our favourite characters, so i wish tonight this will in a way comfort you...

and if anyone needs to vent, or talk, feel free to hit up my dm's, they are a safe space for anyone and i'll always offer up comfort.. we don't need to struggle alone, and sometimes being heard is what we need to make a new step forward<3

As always, my little stars, excercise kindness! we don't know who's gonna pass by this, and we don't know how hard it can be for them.

This being said, I hope you'll like it!

Headcanon: Astarion learning Tav is a survivor.

Pairing: Astarion x reader. Warnings: mentions of past trauma and SA. wc: 1.7k

-He starts suspecting something about it around the time of the tiefling party. He had offered to sneak out while everyone was asleep to "enjoy yourselves", but you refused right away. He definitely picked up some involuntary movement you did that told him there was more to the "I'm not ready". You probably flinched or jerked away, usually it would go unnoticed, but Astarion could recognize the subtle harshness hidden behind your reaction.

-He doesn't want to pry into it, as much as he needed to know as much as possible about you- he says for the sake of his undead skin- he wasn't entirely confident you trusted him enough to share your past. Also he wasn't sure he could handle someone confiding in him, but he would never admit it. At the end of the day, all he knew about social interaction were faint memories of his magistrate life, or means to survival. He simply wasn't sure he could have the empathy to deal with someone else's emotions, both in good and in bad.

-When you meet the gur, and you start peering into his past, he can't hide the very obvious rock in the shoe, Cazador and his spawn life, and it is because of the gur that you actually open up to him. When he starts going deeper and deeper into Cazador's orders to him and his repulsion towards sex, you do feel like you can share something so intimate, that's been heavy on you, well since it happened. 

-The first time you mention it though, you are very blunt.

-"And honestly I don't know anything else besides disgust for it" He'd admit as he bit the inside of his cheek.

"I'm sorry, Astarion" You'd start, you wanted to hold his hand to comfort him, cause that kind of pain you knew. "I understand how you feel though. If you need—" He cut you short, anger was bubbling quickly in his stomach. You swore his face almost reddened in anger as he raised his voice.

"No, you don't" He was one sound shirt from hissing at you. "You cannot understand what it feels like" He'd sneer at you. "No one can understand what it feels like to be stripped of your bodily autonomy". In a way the harshness in his voice was like a slap to your face, cause you did in fact know. From the other, you didn't expect your brain to beeline directly towards that sealed drawer in your brain where you tried to hide the haunting memory. 

“I went through it myself, you shithead” You got up, uncaring of whatever reaction he could have in that moment, and you just left.

-He was taken aback, on different levels, both because of your sudden shift in mood, because of the blunt reveal, and deep down because he was sorry, though again he’d never admit it out loud.

-You ignored him for the rest of the day, avoiding his stare and disappearing in your tent right after you were done setting camp, and that unsettled him so much that he was weighing the possibility of apologizing cause, of course, he didn’t know.

-You skipped dinner, and even when everyone else was asleep, you didn’t come out from your tent to take your usual nightly walk. The pang of guilt was becoming more like a stab as he saw the light in your tent still burning, and the faint shadow of you moving around restless.

-He prepared a peace offering, a bowl of the leftover stew, as he had to muster the guts to apologize. 

-”Sorry, I was an asshole earlier, I brought you food” He blurted out right after he knocked on the wooden support of the tent, and he was surprised when you still let him in.

-Initially it was awkward, cause you were eating and not saying anything, but after a while he mustered up the courage to offer his shoulder to you. “If you even wish to talk” He’d say.

-You told him a bit of what happened, without going too much into detail, since you were still shaken from the memories that resurfaced.

-Since then he started to learn your boundaries: how to catch your attention without startling you, what were triggering topics for you, how you liked physical touch, and how it triggered you as well.

-In a way he becomes very protective of you, especially if you open up more often about your trauma, and you can see it.

-He made sure everyone respected your boundaries, whether it was Gale with his weave thing pulling you too close, or a stranger breathing on your neck, he was always ready to remind them of their place. 

-”Don’t you see our dear captain doesn't want to be that close?!” “Keep your hands to yourself, they don't like being grabbed by the wrists” “Get away from her, before I stab you” 

-He noticed how you always double checked the perimeter of the camp before the sun would set, and before getting in your tent you’d always look around in the distance, trying to spot if something was out of place. So he joined you in your routine, helping you check around and make sure you were ready in case anything could have happened.

-As you get closer, and you both open up more to each other, he even suggests he moves his tent closer to yours. “I can keep an eye around” Was his explanation, when he first brought it up. 

-And it helped so much with your sleep, you felt a little safer.

-If you didn’t feel safe at night, he’d suggest putting your tents together into one. Maybe it was a way to keep you closer, or he needed reassurance, but he made sure you knew you could place your bedroll anywhere as far or as close to him as you liked.

-Eventually as your bond would deepen and deepen, and you’d grow fond of each other, you found yourselves rediscovering your touch together. It started with your fingers tapping on his arm as you were walking, or a strand of your hair being pulled behind your ear. Some nights you’d sit close in your tent, and would hold hands, caress each other’s cheeks, and slowly even reach out for a kiss or two.

-It was a slow process, where you really got to know each other like no one else ever did. You could read each other like a book, yet you never shied away from asking each other for consent for anything.

-”Can I hold your hand” “Can I kiss your cheek” “Can I rest my head on your chest”

-The thing you both struggled with the most, was falling asleep holding each other. You’d panic very quickly when you would feel your chest becoming tighter. He’d move away as quickly as possible, and give you the space you needed.

-When he confesses he has been falling for you, it’s time to approach the very delicate topic of sex. You opened up about the fact that you wanted to wait ‘till you were ready, and he agreed without hesitation. Of course because he understood where you came from, he never asked for any help either, if he’d feel like he needed some release, he’d disappear for a bit and deal with it himself, without making you feel like a burden.

“I just want to make sure we are on the same page on this” You’d say as you crossed your arms, almost as if you wanted to fold yourself in and away. “If you want to have sex, I can’t right now” You’d start saying, but stop on your tracks for a second. “Wait, not that I can’t. I don’t want to have sex at the moment” You’d correct yourself, confident in your statement, he wasn’t even thinking about it, though he respected completely.

“I get it, and it’s okay my love” He’d say, patting your shoulder, and wondering whether he wanted to hold your hand or kiss it, he wanted to let you know he truly understood. “I don’t want to either” He smiled, and in that moment it was like both you two finally breathed. You’d reach for his hand to hold it in yours.

“It’s not because of you though” You wanted to explain to him, you were so close it was something you were ready to share, especially since you were slowly walking towards a different level of intimacy together, he had to know. “I want to do it when we are both ready” 

“I understand, my sweet, there’s no need for explanations” He’d smile again, one of his fangs slightly poked out against his lip. “You said you don’t want sex yet, so it’s no” 

“I’m a virgin” You’d blurt out, and that was something he didn’t entirely expect.

“Oh” He’d say at first, but as he noticed your cheeks slowly warming up, he pulled you closer to him, his forehead against yours. “It’s okay, I don’t care about it” He’d exhale. “As long as it’s you, I don’t care about anything” 

-When you reach Baldur’s Gate and finally you settle in the elfsong tavern, you made sure you always had a corner of time dedicated to helping each other relearn touch. 

-You'd lay next to each other in different levels of nakedness depending on how you felt at the moment, and you'd spend your time tracing each other's features. Whenever you'd feel comfortable enough to venture into a new thing, he'd ask for permission. 

-"Would you feel comfortable if I touched your hips?" "Can I trace your scars with my fingers?” “May I pull you closer?”

-You didn't fight time, you didn't rush towards sex. It came slowly and it was a process full of ups and downs. Some attempts ended up with you both sobbing, too overwhelmed. Other's ended up with panic attacks. Eventually though, after a lot of work together, you reached a point where you'd be able to make love.

-it was a very soft moment between you two. It involved a lot of comforting, kisses and patience, but it was something so profound, it wasn't only about shared pleasure, but it was about connecting your bodies and your souls. In a way it was like a wedding for you two it was the peak of trust you could have with each other. 

-He'd whisper so many times how proud he was of you, how much he loved you, and how glad he was that you were the one that would spend their life with him.

-Tears eventually arrived, they were the tears of two souls that finally had reclaimed a bit of their freedom. It was the cries of someone that was finally healing. 

[sleepingdeath-light]

the perfect gentleman ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 1544

content ; sexually explicit content, loss of virginity, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, prominent sadism (alastor) and masochism (reader), power imbalance

fandom ; hazbin hotel

pairing ; alastor x cis female reader

read also on ; ao3

note ; potentially shaky characterisation as i had to juggle alastor’s likely sadism with trying to be accommodating for someone’s first time, which was quite the challenge.

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked!!!

Alastor was a great many things to a great many people, but above all else he was a gentleman — and a very traditional one at that. The type who would do the expected chivalrous things like hold open doors for you even when he was just passing by, or lending you his tailcoat if you complained of the cold, but his gentlemanliness also extended to the more intimate side of your relationship (which shouldn’t be as surprising as it was, but seeing as you were both in hell you couldn’t help but be even more appreciative of how he approached things like that).

And even now that you’d finally made yourself open to being sexually intimate he was still treating you with a degree of gentleness that made your undead heart flutter. Though you supposed that was mostly because you’d disclosed your inexperience to him quite early on in your relationship — after all he was a self described sadist so you’d been expecting a bit more roughness once he got you in bed with him.

Not that you minded much, of course…

—————

Despite being in such a vulnerable position you felt completely at ease beneath him, fully giving yourself to him however you could and however he wanted you to: not flinching away when he used the sharpened tips of his black tinged claws to impatiently, yet delicately, tear your undergarments off of your body; letting him reposition your body so that you were sat on his lap with your bare back right against his slender clothed chest without complaint; spreading your legs wider, almost on impulse, when he started to trail those cold hands up your thighs and towards your wet pussy; complying immediately and removing your hands from your mouth when he scolded you for trying to hide yourself from him, letting your arms fall limply to your sides as you started to anxiously pick at the bedsheets on either side of his crossed legs, whole body trembling in anticipation as he inches closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. And despite all of your mental preparation you still couldn’t help but jump when he first made contact with your slit, earning you a crackling radio-host chuckle against your ear as he repeated the same motion again to help you adjust to it; slowly and gently running a single fingertip along your slit from the hood of your clit to your dripping hole and back again.

He asked you if you wanted him to stop, calling you ‘dear’ in that polite drawl of his, but you pushed through your anxiety and confirmed that you were okay. So Alastor pushed forwards by just a bit; letting one of his fingertips dip mere millimetres into your entrance before immediately removing it and continuing to trace the length of your soaked puffy lips, mindful to not cut you with his nails as he went (he had clipped them beforehand but there’s only so much a demon can do to change his form, you know). Then he did it again, going a fraction deeper and staying a second longer, before pulling out again — going further and further with every go around and clearly delighting in your flustered frustration and anxiety as he continued to tease you and help you adjust to what was to come.

But, so very impatient despite your initial anxiety, you only lasted long enough for him to get the second knuckle of his middle finger into your gushing entrance before you tapped out and begged him to stop ‘treating me like I’m made of glass, Al,’ because you’re ‘a demon too, goddamn it’. And Alastor, ever the perfect gentleman, laughed heartily at your outburst before withdrawing his hands from your body and putting his finger in front of your lips and asking you to ‘be a doll’ and clean him up first.

So, tentatively, and with a half-heartedly defiant roll of your eyes, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his slick covered digit into your mouth. Tasting yourself on his skin as you obediently cleaned him, humming almost thoughtfully at the flavour, until he suddenly popped it back out of your mouth and unceremoniously (and quite roughly) flipped you onto your back so that you were laying flat on the bed with him looming over you, body positioned snugly between your legs.

Once again he asked if you wanted him to continue, voice crackling like static and eyes glowing that intrusive streetlight yellow as he stared down at you with his usual sharp grin on his face. And, once again, you glared up at him and huffed and reaffirmed that you knew what you wanted — and that you didn’t want him holding back like he was before.

And it seemed that that was all the encouragement that the radio demon needed to make your first time as memorable as possible.

—————

You felt like his prey, trapped and completely at his mercy, but you couldn't help but love it: those needle-like teeth digging in to the sensitive skin of your throat, piercing just deep enough to draw blood and make you gasp before he withdrew and licked the wound clean, moaning in satisfaction at your flavour; those talon like fingers clawing at your bare waist and hips and thighs, keeping you in place and stopping you from squirming away from him as he fucked into your soaking wet pussy, slick mixing with blood as it pooled beneath you on the bed; that long slender cock slipping effortlessly inside of you, tip brushing dangerously against your g-spot every few thrusts and coaxing more moans and groans and whines from your lips as he went, all of which Alastor clearly revelled in. He was so much stronger than you, so much larger than you, that there was no chance of you escaping — leaving you well and truly at the mercy of your demonic deer-like lover — and the thought only made you wetter.

In fact, everything he did or said to you made you wet, which might have embarrassed you if you weren't already in hell.

Every staticky laugh and chuckle that reverberated against the pulse point of your neck or the swell of your chest. Deep, rough sounds that sent waves of gooseflesh erupting across your body and that were usually followed by another playful bite or nip.

Every time he called you 'my dear' or 'pet' or 'dearest' in that transatlantic accent of his, terms of affection that would usually make you swoon now left to punctuate the little things he did to make you see stars on the ceiling of your crumbling hotel room. His sweet words a stark contrast to the utter sin that he was performing between your thighs.

Every sharp sting of his nails being dug into your hips and dragged down a few tantalising centimetres, leaving deep red trails in your skin  in their wake that the small, distant, coherent part of you knew would ache terribly the next day. But now, with his lips on your throat and his cock in your cunt, you couldn't bring yourself to care about the consequences you'd face, you just needed him to do it again... and again... and again. He could leave every inch of you bruised and bleeding and you still wouldn't care so long as he kept making you feel this good — hell, the pain only made the pleasure feel more real, more intense, so you almost hoped that he didn't stop.

Every collision of his hips with yours, angled just right so the tip of his length would hit that delicate spongey-spot within you, that had you throwing your head back and repeating his name like a mantra or prayer (rather ironic given your current place of residence).

All of these new overwhelming sensations pushed you closer and closer to the edge of release until finally something snapped and you were sent spiralling into a climax so intense your vision completely whited out. Every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire and yet you still felt like you were floating, adrift in an ocean of burning hot pleasure that drowned out your thoughts and left you only with the sharp stinging pain of his teeth and nails to anchor you through the storm. Even your own voice sounded distant and incomprehensible to you, like your ears were stuffed with cotton or your head was underwater, leaving only the pounding of your heart audible to you as you were fucked through your climax.

It was intense and felt almost endless, like you were kept in that state of heightened sensation and white hot pleasure for an eternity. Floating in that white, teary void with only your own overwhelming pleasure and distant, dull sparks of pain to keep you company as you rode out the most powerful orgasm of your life. Only able to mindlessly hope that it would be the first of many that you’d have with Alastor, and that some day you’d be able to make him feel just as good as you did now.

Just maybe not today; you were much too worn out for that… but there’s always tomorrow, right?

[phantom-dc]

A deal with the Ghost King

Part1 Part3 AO3

Bruce was concerned. Last night, the world had been on the brink of destruction. A flaming, Kryptonite meteorite had been on a collision course with Eart. No one was able to handle it, and the League had grown desperate. Many, Bruce included, had brought their friends and families in an attempt to save them. It was then they had agreed to let Constantine summon the mighty Ghost King.

But they had failed. The Ghost King had rejected their offer of souls, and demanded a better offering. The League had scrambled to come up with something valuable enough to please it. But before they could try again, the King had vanished, and the meteorite had been destroyed. After the initial shock and relief had worn off, Constantine had demanded awnsers. Someone had made a deal, but no one knew who. While Batman checked the camera's, Flash asked around if anyone had seen anything. No one had, and the Ghost King's presence interfered with the camera's. A deal had been made with the God of the dead, and no one knew what had been offered. Constantine made it clear that if anyone of the League noticed anything amiss to call him immediatly, and it was well known how much Constantine hates being on call. So Bruce decided to patrol a bit earlier then usual, right after dark. He had been on his balcony, as the sun had just set, casting the city in darkness.

Then the sky was filled with familiar green/blue lights.

----

Red Hood was following the Aurora Borealis on his bike. Jason had been worried when he realised he and Phantom had forgot to exchange phone numbers, but it seems he has no trouble making his presence known. Jason was sure the whole city could see it! Noticing the light rippled from Gotham cemetery outward (because of course a ghost-themed hero would pick that spot) Jason got there so fast he doubted the Flash couldve done better.

When he parked his bike, Phantom had noticed him and waved. When he floated closer however, he seemed confused. 'Wait, you're the Red Hood?' Jason realised he hadn't been wearing his iconic helmet in the Watchtower, and got a bit nervous. Had Phantom been unaware of the blood on his hands? Suprisingly, Phantom got excited: 'That's amazing! You're my favorite hero!' Jason was suprised: 'Really?' 'Yes! So many ghosts found peace because you avenged them. You're like a celebrity in the Realms!' Not used to the praise, Jason switched topics: 'So where do you wanna go? Honestly, it's kinda late and I don't think much is open now.' Phantom apologises. He wasn't certain his aura would have been visible in the sun. But he came prepared! Holding up a picnick basket, he suggest they visit the park chat so they can get to know eachother a bit better. Jason liked the plan. 'Let's go then, ghost boy.'

----

Looks like I'll have to split the date up in different parts! Enjoy the wild goose chase!

Edit: I am no longer tagging as I teached the limit and the story is on AO3, sorry.

@alice-hazelwood @spookytragedyshark @vythika96 @willak @sjrose1216 @shorterthanadverage @bruh-incoming @desertbogwitch @bun-fish @anon-ymous22 @overtherose @dracotheghostdragon @treepainting @the-church-grimm @emotional-otter @zelabee @smilingfox22-blog @vampiredp94 @leftmiraclechaos @impulsiveasshole @babbling-babull @wordsgohere95 @theamazingfox @regressor-marina @raspberry-muffin @scribbiesan-main @satanicrutialspecialist @meira-3919 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @terzatheunderscorerima @some-rotten-nest @wrenofthedumbasses @is-this-even-relatable @olivethetreebitch @my-mom-calls-me-rat @darlingatlas @blazeart @gunebugfic @chaos-n-kindness @elvesandlanterns @asphyxia778 @fantasticbluebirdfan @mj-arts-n-stuff @nappinginhell @slapphapp1 @undead-essence @seraphinedemort @enderglace @wildbacon-blog @mark-the-snark

[summerslushies]

motor city/monster posting simulator

🧠 deadguysincorporated Follow

don't even think about interacting with me if you're a construct of any kind. some of us had to be turned to be considered monsters, you guys had to be built into it smh

#being metal or flesh cobbled together doesn't make you special #it just means that whoever made you took extra steps to make a human😒 #rattle groans #constructs DNI

🌕 fullmoonmayhem Follow

why are you mad about some people not going through an experience that can be severely traumatizing? that's weird, dude.

🩷 cybercds Follow

yeah wouldn't it be easier for someone to be a monster at the start rather than going through something horrific?

🧠 deadguysincorporated Follow

i don't want to hear anything from you. you're a corpse faker.

🩷 cybercds Follow

HUH???

🩷 cybercds Follow

NO NO. WTF IS THAT???

🧠 deadguysincorporated Follow

you're not even fully undead! you have NO business commenting on this.

🩷 cybercds Follow

i literally come back to life every time i die?? i'd say that counts as being pretty frickin undead LMAOOO

👽 sleepspacenine Follow

i went and checked op's blog and their description says they were zombified three months ago.

🌕 fullmoonmayhem Follow

of course.

#not even the slightest bit surprised by that tbh #i cant even imagine acting like that on TOMBLR of all places

💀 bonezzz Follow

I swear it's always newer undead pulling this gatekeeping shit. It's so fucking embarrassing, you guys.

#i am so sorry on ops behalf #i doubt they'll apologize but i'm so sorry you guys had to deal with them #i thought we got out of what makes a monster discourse years ago this is ridiculous

👻 ghostbriide Follow

anyone in this thread haunt warehouses

( 234 notes )

[arseniy-arsenicum33]

Season 9 Hermits as DND heroes and villains... (Mostly villains)...

The Dungeon Master... The Warden Wrangler... The Frost Warlock... TangoTek...

The Gorgon King... The Statues Sourseress... The Undead Sculptress... ZombieCleo...

The Immortal King... The Forgotten Ruler... The Wealth Hoarder... Ren the King...

The Bone Mage... Axe of The Screaming Void Wielder... The Musical Necromancer... XisumaVoid...

The Vampire Lord... The Treacherous Backstabber... The Keeper of Vaults... Mumbo Killsalot Jumbo...

The Cursed Knight... The Honourable Hero... And His Inner Demon... WelsKnight...

The Elven Archer... The Magical Baker... The Mattress Store Owner... GoodTimesWithScar...

The Dwarven Warrior... The Realm Liberator... The King Slayer... ImpulseSV...

The Forest Protector... The King Maker... The Leshy... BdoubleO100... This whole project started long ago with an ask by @theshadiertwin two months ago... Shockingly, the Idea of using a DND-character creator for creating actual DND-characters instead of little vignettes never occured to me... But I really wanted to model every Hermit first... If you have any ideas of what class each hermit can be, please tell! And I will be making a part 2 someday... Bdubs one has a little bit of a backstory... It's conceptually based on this model of Inscription-Leshy Bdubs by my good friend @randomtotallyrealgirl... But made more akin to slavic view of Leshy as a Forest Guardian... It's not a cultural appropriation, if it's my culture... Rens also from slavic folklore, he was inspired by Koschey the Immortal who conquered death, hoarded enormous amounts of wealth and spent his forever life by withering over it... You can use them freely, play as them, put them as npcs in your homebrew, come up with stats and character builds, go nuts! And there are some nice secrets, if you view them in 3D... I just need to add them to the growing google doc of my models... And actually post said doc on my blog... Yeah... Soon...

[pursuitseternal]

Introducing “Love Me or Hate Me (for both work in my favour):” Enemies to Lovers, Gur!Tav x Astarion

Astairon x Tav (Katja) | E | 4k Chapter 1

Ask box fill from @thegoodwitchs-blog

Summary: Katja hates her circumstances of a tadpole in her head, but she hates him more. Gur by birth, monster hunter by trade like her people, it takes all her limited Barbarian control not to stake him in his sleep. As for him, she’s the same stock of vagrant that killed him all those centuries ago; punishing her should be fun and harmless… well, maybe just a little harmful.

CW: Enemies to Lovers, Hate sex, angry sex (DubCon?), manipulation, semi-public sex, jealousy, biting and mild choking, Act 1 spoilers

Ao3 Link | Astarion fic Masterlist

Ch. 1:Little Vagrant

Every single instinct in Katja’s body sat at high alert from the moment she met him. Since the moment he pulled a dagger on her, she should have disarmed him like her elders had taught her back in the village and staked him through the heart for good measure.

And that was before her worst suspicions had been confirmed.

Before she saw the after effects of his true nature, the morning after he bit her cleric.

Vampire… slave to sanguine hunger… monster…

Enemy.

But there were worse monsters to fight—Mindflayers. And he was too useful to dispatch, not while they had a healer to find and a Goblin camp to infiltrate and an Archdruid to save.

Katja would just have to let the monster’s undead heart keep beating at a dirge’s pace until she no longer needed him. His blades were too quick, his ferocity in battle unmatched, especially now that he could fight with knife and fang. She had to admit, it was thrilling to watch… his lithe movements, graceful and equally deadly as he fought. She understood why her people couldn’t let his kind live.

They were too powerful, too dangerous, and too beautiful.

Once, she stumbled on him bathing in the river, another gift of the tadpole to allow such a monster the ability to enter running waters without harm.

Pugh.

At first she had been revolted by the paleness of his skin and the scars on his back. It was… too disgusting for her to look away, she told herself. Too risky to leave him unobserved, unguarded. He could attempt to do anything… best to remain in hiding.

Crouching in the bushes, she heard him giggle. “Well, well, well. Our churlish leader…. You’d be a blight on your people if they knew you were… lusting after a soulless creature like me.” He turned those unnerving crimson eyes in her direction. “Likely they’d put your head on a pike just for thinking about what I look like naked, darling.” He smirked wickedly. “Tch, what a shame that would be to have one less Gur vagrant in the world.”

His lip twitched as she stood from her hiding place. Katja’s rounded human ears turned beet red in the dark, her long golden braids whipping her back as she spun on her heel and made for camp.

He won this battle. But she would win the war between them. His insufferable voice would quiet permanently someday, his shifting, crimson eyes would stare at her lifelessly. He would look so beautiful with a stake through his ribs.

He was a menace, and Katja was lucky by all the gods that he hadn’t killed her yet. She didn’t know why he had yet to drain her dry. Maybe his hunger was sated because he was drinking his fill from the Cleric every night. She rolled her eyes as she watched them each morning departing their shared tent. It made her sharpen her ax extra those mornings before battle. This day, they were headed for the Goblin camp, just beyond the village. And as they packed up camp, making their way over trails, Katja bristled as Astarion’s cold presence drew close.

“Are you alright, darling? Your pulse sounded this morning as if your feeble, mortal heat was bout to explode. I didn’t know that a Gur had a heart, much less that it could beat so childishly fast with jealousy,” he sneered down at her. Those sharp and sinister features were a good head and a half above her after all.

“Jealous? Pft,” Katja grimaced, shifting her pack on her shoulders. “Why would I be jealous of a creature with no soul, vampire?”

“It’s not my soul that interests you, I’ve noticed. It’s my body, and what I do with it…” his icy lips pressed nearer to her ear, almost touching, “and to whom I do said things…”

A dagger pressed into his ribs faster than he could draw a breath, a breath his undead body didn’t need. “Careful, monster,” Katja hissed. “Or I’ll be the one thrusting. You’ll be rammed on the point of my weapons, not unlike our poor Cleric whom you’ve beguiled.”

“She doesn't consider herself in such dire straits. In fact, she rather enjoys it. You should ask her, see what it is you’re missing out on…”

“I’d sooner skin a kobold,” she gagged. “The Cleric's choices are her own. If she wishes to sully herself with the undead, to damn her soul by feeding you her life essence, then so be it.”

Astarion paused in his tracks, laughing slowly. “Oh, I can’t tell if it would have been worth the risk to bite you instead.” He tilted his rumpled silver head, eyes assessing her every inch, noticing weaknesses in her hide armor, watching her fingers still twitching on her dagger’s hilt. “No, corrupting you and your narrow prejudices wouldn't be worth the risk of tasting your blood. I bet it’s sourer than vinegar and just as repellent.” He sneered so wide, she could almost see her reflection in the glint of his teeth.

“You try to bite me, and I will make a necklace from your teeth…” she hissed. “Once I pry them from your skull, Vampire.”

“Oh, I do like them feisty….” A single cold digit ran down her blushing cheek. Ice on her temper’s flames. A gentle caress, a lover’s touch. It made her whole frame go rigid in a second.

And it made Astarion chuckle, low and throaty as he continued on the path.

“Honestly, we could just leave the Druids and Tieflings to their own natural consequences,” the Vampire mouthed off as usual, complaining with his typical arrogance and selfishness. Leaning against the wall of the Shattered Sanctum, he gave his wicked half-smile to Shadowheart beside him.

Katja just shuffled her feet, switching the shoulder her greataxe rested on for a reprieve. “We can’t let a bunch of Goblins in league with the Absolute decimate a sacred grove,” she sneered, making that scar down the side of her left cheek twist. “But I don’t expect the Cleric of Shar and a fucking vampire to understand the sense behind it.”

Astarion raised his brow, his sinister smile turning to land on her instead. “Can’t you imagine just how wonderful the resulting chaos would be if we did?” He gave a deep and almost lewd sigh. “It would be… delicious.”

Rolling her eyes, Katja mumbled a curse in her native tongue, sure that neither of her least favorite companions would understand.

But given the way the vampire’s mouth curved down in distaste, she wasn’t so sure she was the only one in their midst to speak Gurri. Katja grimaced as she looked around the desiccated temple of Selûne, remembering all her childhood prayers to the goddess and ignoring the way the Sharran seemed to gloat at every violated shrine.

Honestly, they deserved each other, she decided with a derisive sniff. She had company enough with Gale, sweet and intelligent, and with Wyll, bold and legendary monster slayer himself.

Stuff of dreams and fantasies. The kind of man to make her tribe proud.

She should go and find him, the Blade of Frontiers, but her feet seemed frozen. If she left these two imps, what trouble would they get into… no. She needed to stay right where she was, even if it was vile and disgusting company.

“Shadowheart!” the Wizard’s voice hissed from behind a column, and all three of them turned around. Gale beckoned the Cleric forward. “We need to find where the Archdruid is being kept… but we also need to deal with a little… problem. This Priestess Gut seems to need a talking to, asking us about some brand and the worship of the Absolute. It’s your time to shine, Cleric of Shar, or… well, as a servant of the Goddess of Darkness, I guess you won’t shine so much as…”

Astarion huffed to interrupt the beginnings of another awkward and king ramble from their companion. “You can’t handle it, Wizard? Didn’t you used to fuck a Goddess and now what? Can’t handle a lowly Goblin priestess?”

“I’d be more than happy to handle this,” Shadowheart grinned. “It was getting a little too crowded in here for my tastes.” She shot a pointed glare with those green eyes towards their blonde Barbarian.

As the Cleric left with Gale, Astarion closed in on Katja, silently and stealthily until his body barely brushed her back. “You Gur always ruin all the fun,” he hissed in her ear. “Not the first time your kind has… spoiled my endeavors.”

She turned to face his glare, crimson and wroth. “I haven’t done anything to you, Vampire, not yet anyway. I’ve only found myself in the same predicament as you; such hatred for someone who could be your ally.”

“Or my sworn enemy,” he sneered, looking down this aquiline nose at her, this little Barbarian. “Don’t you have some throats to cut and innocents to swindle?”

“Or monsters to stake?” she sneered right back, unknowingly drawing her small and strong frame to stand toe to toe with him. Her face mere inches from his own, his breath washed down on her, cool and metallic in scent. And then that mouth twisted in a wicked smirk, opening to speak…

“C’mon,” a high-pitched, nasally voice giggled beside them as three Goblin children bolted past them. “That bear they captured is in the Worg pens. Bet we can make him roar!”

“Halsin,” Katja whispered, following the urchins at a distance as they weaved through the camp. She was small, but certainly not stealthy, and even as she managed to slip into the cells, the faint growls of a large animal’s rumbling in the distance, an ice cold hand shot out from behind her to pull her into the shadows.

A small storage room, just off the cell block, that’s where she was. Astarion’s hard, cold body pressed her against the wall, his finger over his lips to signal for her silence.

But her rage ignited, her nostrils flared, ready to burst. Quickly, his chilled palm closed over her mouth just in time to muffle the below of anger she gave. His frame crushed her, and that palm wasn’t enough to quiet her. Long, icy fingers closed around her throat, silencing her and shutting off her air.

Her breath ragged, she did the one thing her feral mind screamed for her to do. She bit him.

“You viper,” he hissed right in her ear. “Do you want us to get caught? Want to join the Druid in the cell?”

Katja only bit harder, struggling to fill her lungs.it made her body squirm against him, fighting to move to claw at him, but her arms were both pinned behind her back, already going numb. Writhing, she chased some unknown feeling… a blind need for release, her heart racing as her hips bucked against his thigh. His toned leg pressed harder between her thighs, the friction making her eyes tear as she struggled. She needed to break free, she told her brain, but her body, her core longed for a different release.

His laughter rumbled in her ear, the din of the dungeons thick enough to cover whatever little sounds they made in this small, neglected space. His thigh lifted her, pressing perfectly against her seam where she burned for more. Sparks of light crossed her vision, heat seared through her veins, and something pressed into her belly, something long and hard. His own icy, blood-stinking breath raced faster as he observed her grinding on his leg. And as she stared into his gaze, she watched as his eyes dilated, from crimson to black in seconds.

Shit, she cursed, unable to keep her body under command as she just squirmed more against that lean thigh and that protruding erection.

“Oh, little vagrant, you’re in trouble, aren’t you?” he hissed in her ear, rubbing that wet, cold tongue up its shell. “I can smell you, just how excited you are to be so close to your quarry. It’s a pity you chose a predator as your prey, darling. You see… you can thank the Cleric for her blood to sate my hunger, but she is rather closed off… or closed-thighed… when it comes to other hungers of mine.”

Fingers released her throat, his nails tearing into the laces of her breaches as she squirmed even harder. Cool, dank dungeon air made every hair on her now-bared mound and thighs stand on end as he tugged them down to her ankles.

“I know you want me, that you’re too proud and stubborn to seek it out for yourself. Allow me, darling, to show you what you’re miss—”

Silencing him, Katja freed one hand, launching it to close around his own scarred and pale throat.

A fang-toothed grin was his only reaction. “Oh, darling…” he rasped from beneath her knuckles. His fingers brushed the skin and curls of her mound and something untamed and hungry unleashed itself from within her. Her grip on his throat tightened, yanking that sneering mouth to hers. She wanted to devour him, to silence him and punish him in the only language he seemed to understand— the language of body and blood.

Jerking her shoulders, she freed her other hand, her nails tearing into the buttons of his own leathers. A growl in his throat, he gripped her ass, lifting her as if she were no more than a child to shove against the wall again. One hand squeezed around her mouth once more, keeping her moan muffled as he finally slotted himself inside her. The rough and ancient brick dug against her armor, padding her flesh from every jolting slap he made against her, his thrusts fast and punishing.

Air hissed through her nostrils, her dark eyes locked into his own, that crimson stare daring to do something. Kill him? Fuck him? Kiss him again? She knew not which. Her body cried out for all of them at once. Never mind the elders or the tribe or her gods.

Heat unlike anything she had known before coiled in her belly, drawn forth by his thick and cool cock inside her. Her teeth grinded into his hand again, drawing blood to coat her tongue. Making him smile. Making his tongue run over his lips, as if he barely bridled his own need to drink.

But her hand kept its place on his gullet, pushing to keep him at a distance once more. Careful not to risk his fangs and sell her soul to be his next meal.

His eyes rolled back and closed, his bone white fangs bared at her, inches from her flesh. Those thrusts grew hard and erratic, his breath whistling in time with hers. Pathetic, she grinned. The sight of him at her mercy burned itself into the back of her eyelids as pleasure burst from inside her, her body shaking as it squeezed him in wave after wave.

One last thrust and he groaned in her face, jaws snapping on air as if he wished it was her neck. Her hand gave one last punitive squeeze of his throat before she released him. Crimson eyes opened halfway, still hazy with lust. A sly snarl twisted his lips as he set her small and muscular frame down.

Disgust roiled in her belly as she ignored the way his cum leaked from inside her. No, she kept her mind on fixing her breeches, a hard task to do as she watched him do the same as he stuffed his half-softened cock inside those form-fitted leathers. Katja tried to swallow the drool that collected in her mouth as she straightened.

His hand ran through his hair, those dangerous lips parting to speak again when shouting sounded from the cells. The bear roared, iron bars clanged as then burst from their hinges and smashed to the ground. Before they could think about what passed between them any longer, monster and monster hunter grabbed their weapons and bolted towards the fray.

Gale turned, launching his magic missiles at the Goblins nearest them. “Oh good, there you both are,” he turned and fired off a few more in the opposite direction. “We thought maybe you had finally killed each other.”

“Something like that,” Astarion replied calmly, despite the smug glare he leveled at Katja. It made her ears burn beet red with hate again. But as she gripped her greataxe and launched into battle, she wasn’t sure if it was hatred more for him or for her own actions.

A few cleaving swings through Goblin flesh, and she knew it was hate for him.

For what he made her feel, for what he made her choose to do, she would hate him forever.

Wine flowed freely, but gods, what Katja would give for a flask of her tribe’s liquor, clear as glass and hotter than the Styx. Or a pint of mead. But neither was within reach. The green glass of her sweet red wine bottle pressed nearly constantly to her mouth. Anything to try to numb the feeling of his cum still dried to her thighs.

He would pay for this. But not tonight. Tonight they celebrated. Many monsters slain; many questions answered, even if those answers only gave rise to more questions. Halsin, the ancient and wise Archdruid loomed over her. More than anyone else. Gods, he could probably eat her in one bite as a bear. Good thing he was a Druid and no monster, she smiled to herself.

She let herself go numb, drinking and listening to the ancient elf talk about this Shadow Curse and the freedom of nature’s gifts… she ignored the way Astarion kept one hand on Shadowheart’s narrow waist, his face pressing into her neck where bite mark scars were beginning to form.

Trying not to gag on her wine, Katja rolled her eyes as they came closer. Halsin’s eyes scanning them all. “I should thank you all for coming to my rescue. It’s nice to be among friends. A wonderful balance to find, if surprising, to see monster and monster hunter as lovers…”

Katja spat her wine out at her feet. “How… the fuck…”

“Forgive me, my wild form tends to lend me heightened senses even in this state, and let’s just say, the nose knows, eh?”

Astarion’s eyes pinned on her, wild and accusatory. “I don’t know…” he started to shirk off the suggestion, even as the Cleric rounded on him.

“Oh, so that’s where you two disappeared to in the camp today.” Her vitriolic scoff hurt more than an arrow would have into Katja’s stomach. Actually she would have preferred the arrow. “No, no makes sense. You always claim to love a challenge, what better place to try to sheathe your little dagger than the one person who hates you.” She narrowed her green eyes at him, “I won’t worry then about keeping you well-fed or strong. Maybe I can find someone who enjoys my devotion to my lady instead of whining about your hunger every day.” The Cleric gave a nice, long, and dramatic sigh, “Well, if that’s over, I’ll be glad to save the spell slots from having to keep myself from being bloodless every day. Thank you, Katja, for doing me that favor.” The sarcasm in her tone lingered long after she strode away, losing herself in the fray of the party.

The glare that Astarion threw Katja shouldn’t have hurt at all, let alone more than the bitchy glares from Shadowheart, but it did. It was a piercing look of malice and disappointment as he strode after her, lies pouring from his thick lips to try to smooth things over.

“I… I’m sorry if that was a secret,” Halsin tilted his head as he watched the drama unfold. “Over three centuries in this realm and I can still be taken out at the knees by surprise.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Katja replied, wiping the stains of red wine from her jerkin. “It was a mistake, nothing more. I may have left with a stain on my conscience, but my soul is intact at least.” She pointed her finger at her neck. “I won’t be bitten, even if I’m fucked.”

Halsin shook his head, laughing. “I forgot how deeply superstitious your people are, little child of the Gur. To think that a vampire’s bite has any effect on your soul,” he smiled gently and chuckled, “you might feel a bit woozy, but by Silvanus’ beard, you won’t lose one bit of your warrior soul.”

Katja’s spine straightened, as if shot once again in the gut. “I’d call you a liar, but you’re a Druid…” she whispered, more fearful for own good.

Halsin’s own scarred face twisted in mirth as he gave a deep belly laugh. “Implying I can’t lie?” He chuckled harder, “a good thing that isn’t the case. But I assure you, a vampire has no interest in your soul. They aren’t fiendish, just hungry and often imprisoned by the whims of their masters.”

Katja tilted her head, considering. Their masters… she turned to scan the crowd for that mop of silver hair or a hint of glaring crimson eyes. If Astarion was a spawn, where was his master? That haze of hatred seemed to part for a moment, a moment of lucidity amid the burning hatred, and Katja realized what a poor hunter she had been. What were his weaknesses and ambitions? What would bait him into the open or control him enough to bring him to heel?

She’d have to get closer to him to discover that. And that thought made her stomach wrap tightly in knots and made her heart set at a galloping pace.

As if summoned by her loping heart, he stepped into her line of sight, browline furrowed, half his fangs bared as he smirked. A single finger crooked in her direction. And Katja made a visible point to check her dagger before crossing towards him. “You seem to be alone,” she smirked, tucking her weapon back home at her hip.

“Thanks to you,” he sneered slightly, the clench of his jaw a slight tell to the rage simmering beneath that cool, alabaster exterior. “You owe me…” he snarled, quiet and pressed from behind his clenched teeth. “Because you, you grub, didn’t have the decency to clean yourself after your little moment of weakness today, I’ve lost my tentmate and meal ticket,” his voice was cold and exacting, a none-too-slight of a threat hidden beneath that refined exterior.

She just tossed her long, blonde braids behind her. “Needless to say, it was your choice today to do that, too,” Katja rolled her shoulders, squaring up for a fight.

“Oh, little brat, always angling for combat,” he suddenly eased, a well-practiced, sultry smile on his handsome face, “it’s bad form to discuss such… personal matters in the open.” He cocked his head, looking down at her seething, defiant glare. “Let’s find a little piece of nowhere, a place to… discuss all this madness like two mature creatures.” His crimson eyes shimmered like the shitty wine in her near-empty bottle. Extending a cold, pale hand at her, he drew close, invading her space. “Truce?”

She just narrowed her eyes, disbelieving the sincerity of such a gesture. Refusing to take his hand in hers. “Where?” she snipped.

His predatory grin widened enough to bare his glinting fangs. “There's a secluded place nearby that will do nicely… far enough away so no one will hear you scream…” his voice scratching into a growl.

“You mean from when you try to kill me?”

Thick lips twisted dangerously as he took a breath. “Death… a little death… it’s all the same, little brat,” his gaze hardened, “isn’t it?”

Katja glared at him, her mouth twisting to hide her confusion, sure there was a hidden meaning in his words she failed to recognize. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” she sassed back at him, confident outwardly…. Only to be discouraged as his grin intensified and as he gripped her hand by force. One yank, and she was pulled against the hard planes of his chest. This time there was no armor to hide the feeling of his skin or to conceal that sharp, clean scent of citrus and herbs.

“Oh, but you do know, better than anyone now,” he growled into her ear before shoving her away again. “There’s a clearing,” he jerked his head to his right, “we can meet there, no weapons, no axes. We can discuss our truce with just the clothes on our backs, what do you say?”

Katja just stared at him, fuming and stoic.

“Or are you too cowardly to meet a monster alone?”

“See you there, asshole,” Katja snarled before turning away, wine bottle raised high above her little blonde head to drink. Draining the dregs of that disgusting vintage, she smashed it against a tree before entering the dark, moonlit forest.

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ♡ྀི ₊ ESCAPISM

you may be able to prolong your life , but it's not like you can escape your inevitable death , is it?

❧ ꒰ leon kennedy × resident evil 4 remake ꒱ ╰┈ ✎ ・・・ repost from my primary writing blog. reader is a separate companion / not meant to replace ashley.

( 1 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, WELCOME HOME.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART BURSTING AT THE SEAMS , TORN BETWEEN HOPE & DESPAIR. you are so far from home, you lonely little lambs, minds on the brink of corruption, blood spilled and meant to be stained with eternal damnation. you venture further into doom, surroundings crumbled into debris and desolation, places once full of life and vigor and a brewing evil now withered into a type of dead you have killed over and over again.

you are so far from home. something greater and something more sinister than nostalgia embeds itself in your existence, sinks itself in the crevices of a hauntening. everywhere you go -- zombie after zombie, death of the undead, every shot fired, every inch of a silver blade covered in red, you hear it, these whispers among the rot : welcome home, welcome home, welcome home, WELCOME HOME.

you wonder if you are losing your mind amidst the violence. in the quiet, it is easier to lose control, fall back into the rabbit hole you once desperately crawled out of before. you inhale, feel the dreadful air bring a heaviness into your lungs, threaten to crush a racing heart.

you ignore the feeling. some things are better that way.

you wrap leon's arm with bandages, movements delicate as to prevent further pain; your expression is somber, mind deep in thought, so you fail to notice the way leon looks at you, fail to notice how he calls your name in that firm yet somehow gentle tone.

"something tells me that you aren't thinking about me right now."

you blink. the trance is broken. you finish tending to him, and instead, your hand slides down and rests on his. it's almost instinct that he turns his hand over, grabs yours, thumb grazing over your knuckles in silent consolation. he leans in to take a better look at you, check if you're wounded-- and it's only just the slightest bit but somehow already too much.

"i'm not, sorry." he smiles wryly at your words. you run your fingers through his hair, find some comfort in this rare respite, force yourself to express the worries that run rampant. "i have a bad feeling... just--" a pause. "something is going to go wrong, leon. something bad is going to happen and--"

"and we'll survive it."

it is almost fascinating -- the shift of tenderness that hardens into resolve in those blue eyes. you almost feel a semblance of safety, but a paranoia, a guilt, accompanies it, engulfs it entirely until it is nothing in existence. gone, void, and leon knows this.

"look, nothing ever goes as planned. you know how it goes." he leans closer, and maybe there is something of reminiscent sorrow that lingers, and maybe he remembers raccoon city and the brutality of death there. "i can't promise nothing bad will happen, but i can promise that we'll make it out of here. both of us."

you nod. the numbness sinks in, one foot in the grave.

you are so far from home.

( 2 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, YOU ARE MEANT FOR THE SAVING.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART BURSTING AT THE SEAMS , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home ; the air becomes more suffocating as you continue forth. the weight of each step becomes heavier. you almost wonder if your footprints in the mud will become the last fragment of yourself, should you get lost in the dark.

the hollows of the earth you step on become a walking grave. it is a very tragic thing that you cannot see the crimson that seeps into the roots of her tragedies, this place corrupted with a madness of some higher being.

something in your chest hurts. it burns, almost -- a sensation akin to terror, and you have almost forgotten that feeling, last felt anything remotely similar when you first learned what it meant, killing another for the sake of survival, dead or undead. you force the calm, anchor it yourself, but you cannot see in this building, the staleness of the air suffocating.

you linger behind leon, keep to yourself. you should be stronger than this, but something in your gut, your instinct, tells you that something bad is coming. it is coming and it's coming soon and you've got to get him out of here, because better him than you and--

in the quiet, leon picks up on your breathing, senses a shift in the air -- a panic, a trembling, but there's something else he can't quite figure out, something else that isn't part of you. something approaches, silent, so he turns on his heel, hardly able to make you out in the dimness of this cramped room.

something is coming. something bad is coming. it is coming and it's coming soon and it's coming now. you hear nothing, but you feel it : this ominous presence, this dreadful dance with death and something that will infect your bloodstream, try to make you something that you're not.

SOMETHING IS COMING.

neither of you can think, fail to move in time from an omniscient being. the last thing either of you remember is a loud chaos, the destruction of a temporary safekeeping, then the collision of your bodies, then nothing.

nothing.

( 3 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, IT HAS BEGUN. I HOPE YOU'RE READY.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home, but this is where you are meant to be, you foolish little lambs. you should know your place, know that you are destined to be at the altar, worship in your veins, adoration drowned in black.

you wake up with an ache. when you come to, you are surrounded by a familiar warmth and comfort, realize that leon is holding you, arms supporting your frame. you have seen fear in those eyes too many times before, but there is something so visceral and heart wrenching this time. your vision blurs for a moment, head throbbing so violently that you can't quite make out what he says to you, but you understand the urgency in his voice.

"--with me?"

"leon, sorry, i--" you can hardly hear yourself. you feel the way his muscles tense as he pulls you closer. "hold on, i-- it's okay, it's okay-- i'm with you." you shut your eyes tight, feel that recognizable yet painful sensation in your chest.

you open your eyes, see the horror in your visage reflected by a cool blue. there's a relief to be found somewhere, if you looked hard enough, but you feel guilty for worrying him so much, so you look away, pat his arm gently in silent request for him to let go.

"you're with me." he tells you, breathless.

you nod. there's a lump in your throat.

"always with you."

there is something heavy in your chest and you know it is not grief. you know what that feels like. this is different. unnatural. you wonder if he feels it, too.

"how are you feeling? you okay?"

"yeah. yeah, i'm okay. i'm okay if you are."

neither of you have enough clarity to understand what happened-- to deem something as strange or out of place is rare nowadays, given both of your histories and roles in these catastrophes. but what need, what purpose is there to attack and flee? it would have been easy to rid of both of you, bring an end to the disruption to this corruption.

something is wrong.

( 3.5, REVERSED ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, A FALSE SAVIOR WILL DEEM THIS AS CORROSION, TELL YOU THAT THERE IS A WAY OUT. BUT THEY ARE SIN THEMSELVES, AREN'T THEY? BE CAREFUL.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN LIMBO, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home, but the reluctant acquaintance you find company with is neither unwelcomed or welcomed.

"las plagas, huh? some vacation."

luis's words echo in your mind. a parasite made for the end of all things, set to blossom, devour, destroy, and it's in your heart. there's a small inkling of hope-- something like that, you guess, had it not been for the former umbrella researcher's roundabout words.

you lean your head against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with leon. the taste of blood lingers on your tongue.

"some vacation." you repeat those words, mind in a fog. "some vacation."

he takes your hand in his, all too aware that his other one is stained with his own blood. no pep talk this time, you muse. that's okay. the silence is enough for now. even with a wavering resolve, you both know that this story is yours and that there is always an ending to reclaim.

"you with me, leon?"

you rest your head against his shoulder. he smiles, bittersweet. there will be an end to this, and it will be a good one. you've got a future together, after all.

"always with you."

( 4 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, THIS IS MERCY. SALVATION. WON'T YOU GIVE IN?

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home and you are closer to losing yourself forever. you can feel it, that numbness and burning in your chest, in your heart. in your dreams, you find yourself drowning, surrounded by figures cloaked in black. unfamiliar.

when you dream, leon never leaves your side. call it love, call it fear, call it cowardice, but he holds you tightly, the shelter you have found a temporary haven. in the dimness, he makes out the foreign lines that run haphazard on his skin. a grimace.

there is an malevolence and hatred flowing in his veins, but such a thing does not exist in his heart. the black flows through his body, consumes the red entirely, spreads its parasite and curse. it grows more and more, and he almost wonders if this is how his story will end. his jaw clenches. he shakes his head, knows he cannot humor such thoughts. he has too many people to save, too many people he cares for. it can't happen again. not this time.

his vision distorts. everything becomes heavy. he is so tired. the taste of rust overwhelms his senses, suffocates him. maybe he is underwater too, drowning just like you are.

time is running out. he has to hurry.

it can't happen again. not this time.

( 4.5, REVERSED ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, TIME IS NEARING. I HOPE YOU'RE READY.

YOU ARE IN AN UNBELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH A DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are so far from home and everything you know, everyone you know. something poisonous engulfs you, takes over your mind and body whole. the visions, the whispers-- you shudder, feel that cool metal against your skin.

no, this isn't right-- you won't call it betrayal because it's not, because you can't be betrayed by someone you don't know, even if leon is the one who holds the knife against your throat. how terribly wretched this is, lover against lover, minds plagued with a reckoning. the virus continues its course, black adorning his countenance. it's coming. he is running out of time.

this isn't him. it's not. you know leon, know he would never put you in harm's way. you know the cause of this, recall the times you felt you weren't yourself, lost in the chaos of las plagas, mind set ablaze, a superficial deity echoing terror in your soul. you know leon, know this isn't him. you don't call this betrayal.

you are too afraid to speak, feel like one word will lead to demise. speak and you lose. stay silent and you lose. move, you lose. stay still, you lose. you cannot win here. there is no good ending, no optimal end game, no way around it unless he can restore himself.

you are helpless and weak and you cannot even save the person you love.

your mouth runs dry. his hand trembles. you feel him regain himself, barely, but the blade meets flesh anyway, draws the slightest amount of blood. part of you hopes, prays, that maybe the sight of you being harmed is what will bring him back, but it doesn't. the knife digs deeper. something trails down your neck. you shiver, instinctively take a step back, his name falling from your lips without a single thought, pleading. one step back, another forward.

you cannot distance yourself from this violence. you don't know what to do -- draw your gun, unsheathe your knife, act like you'll hurt him if he continues? would they care if leon died? would they care if you died? you are simply part of the flock, after all. your deaths are meaningless. you do not know if pain would even snap him out of this. you can both push it to the limits, wait and see what happens, but it doesn't matter, not if they see you as another useless puppet.

the possibilities are both endless and limited. something warm continues to run down your skin, leave a faint crimson in its wake. it's now or never ; there's no winning with inaction. another step back. you draw your gun, aim it down at the ground -- somewhere far in the distance, and shoot, once, twice. it's stupid. it'll draw attention. you can't think of anything else though, adrenaline sending your thoughts in a spiral.

it works.

a sudden wild bewilderment in blue eyes-- he jerks away from you, then you hear the knife clatter against concrete. you let out that breath you've been holding for too long, unsure if it is relief or some semblance of hurt that decorates your features.

leon is quick to put the pieces together, sees the wound on your neck. that was him. it was him. he hurt you, he--

"don't think about it. it wasn't you." you grab his wrist, ignore the way he reflexively tries to pull back in possibility that he could bring harm to you once more. "we have to go and we have to go now."

so you do. you run in search of safety together, but there is something that shatters the soul, breaks what little is left of the hearts that cling to humanity.

you run. you keep running. together.

( there is nothing to grant forgiveness for. there is no need for apologies, but you hear them endlessly, anyway. he is careful to tend to the wound, but his hands shake. his hands shake, so you hold them until they still. until he knows you're okay. )

( 5 ) : LOST LITTLE LAMBS, YOU HAVE TURNED DOWN GOD'S WILL, REFUSED YOUR OWN STORY. WHAT WILL YOU MAKE OF THIS?

YOU ARE IN A BELONGING, BODY IN DARK WATERS, HEART INFECTED WITH DEPRAVITY , TORN BETWEEN SURVIVAL & DEATH. you are closer than ever to being lost, but you are closer than ever to being found. your lungs burn, your limbs ache. the exhaustion weighs you down, but you and leon support each other, fend off the hallucinations that threaten to break you. you're underwater again, drowning, but the surface is right there, so close--

you cough up blood, wind knocked out of you by the ravaging plague. leon is on the verge of vanquish, but he fights through it, knows that your story together is yours and only yours to reclaim, so he pushes through, even if his body hurts so terribly much. he's so close-- there is no stopping now. luis's lab is nearby.

he's too close. he cannot stop now, even if everything turns into a haze, even if the darkness nearly takes him. so he picks you up, movements clumsy and weak, silently apologizes when he hears your muffled cries of pain.

when you reach the lab, leon rushes to put you in the chair. you do not know what will come next. your lips part in protest, but he is quick to shush you, tell you to save your strength. the parasite inside you lies dormant, but it will wake soon, and then you will be gone, lost forever. you don't have time, but neither does he.

you are afraid. you feel yourself going in and out of consciousness, eyes heavy, your head lulled to the side. you close your eyes, feel leon's hand on yours.

you are so afraid. it will hurt. you know this.

it does. it does. it does it does it does IT DOES.

( 5.5, ENDGAME ) : WHAT WAS LOST IS ALWAYS FOUND. YOU ARE CLOSER TO HOME THAN YOU THINK.

YOU ARE IN A BELONGING, BODY ABOVE THE TIDES, HEART CLEANSED FROM PLAGUE , BEATING , ALIVE. you are closer to home than you think, the pain spread through your body slowly fading. you are more tired and more awake than ever, the pain in your chest obsolete. you are safe, and so is he.

leon is knocked out cold, entirely still as he lies in the chair. had it not been for the subtle rise and fall of his chest, you would have thought to check his pulse. you rub your eyes, try to fend off the fatigue. you may be safe, but you are only free from the virus. still, you do not wake him, know that you both have been running on fumes.

you are not entirely sure how you managed to switch places with him ; your muscles ache in protest. surely you will be sore tomorrow. you smile weakly, rest your forearms on the arm of the chair. you put your head down, take a deep breath. you should wake him, start running. you should be going. but you are so god damn tired, and you cannot think. you cannot bear to do so. not right now.

you close your eyes, fall into a slumber in which you do not drown.

you wake up with an ache. this all feels so very familiar.

"--with me?"

when you come to, you raise your head, greeted by the sight of leon's warm gaze. he smiles when you sit straight up, shake your head as if it'd rid of the grogginess.

"good morning, sunshine. are you with me?"

you do not answer at first, though you both know exactly what will be said. you scoot a little closer, a faint worry in your eyes as you study him intently. the black has faded entirely, all signs of infection gone. you glance at the computer, confirmation made by the notification that pops up on the screen. still--

your hand trembles ever so slightly as you reach out for him, but part of you is scared that maybe it's wrong, maybe there's a chance that things could still go south.

"it worked. i'm okay." leon's words are gentle and reassuring ; he grabs your hand, leans into your touch in hopes that it will ease the panic that threatens to bloom in your heart. "it'll take more than that to get rid of me, remember? you're always with me."

something almost chokes you-- everything you have ever endured, whether good or bad, everything you have ever swallowed in attempt to keep it somewhere unheard, unnoticed. your eyes sting, but you nod anyway.

"yeah." you whisper, voice shaking. "i'm always with you, leon."

he studies you, careful, brows furrowed. he squeezes your hand : a desperate desire for reassurance, more for his own sake than yours.

"i've got you." he tells you, and you've heard those words so many times before, always knowing them to be true. "i've got you. we'll make it out of here."

[monsterkin-culture-is]

10 Monster & Mythological Kintypes You Might Not Have Kinsidered!

Quick intro! I want to do some more monsterkin related original blog posts & content to make this blog more of a community hub for the monsterkins of tumblr. I'll be using #thebitingblogger for these posts! TW for some very mild mentions of gore in the context of mythology.

10. Haunted Dolls: There is definitely a large dollkin community on Tumblr but I haven't seen many haunted dolls/plushies. They're such a staple of horror media & spiritual subcultures - I'm so surprised by their absence!

9. Werecats & Other Werebeasts: The werewolfkin community on here is already limited but the werecat tag is tiny (and I don't think there even are tags for any other werekintypes)! Maybe the concept just hasn't been explored enough yet but given the popularity of other feline kintypes I wouldn't be surprised if there were some undiscovered werecats. I'd also like to add on about hellhounds & hellcats! Plenty of mythology there but a rather empty part of the kin community.

8. Revenants: Revenants are reanimated corpses revived to haunt the living. They're most prominent in Western European & Norse folklore. I can see some similarities to ghost & zombie kins but given we already have other subtypes & related kins (phantomkin etc) there is definitely a place for them in the kin community. Honestly as I'm writing this I'm starting to kinsider whether my skeletonkin might be a revenant...

7. Headless Horsemen: I suppose this is technically a human but I'd consider them a potential type of undead or spirit! The headless horseman is a recurring myth in a lot of Western Europe & America. My favourite version is the Dullahan from Irish folklore. The Dullahan is a mysterious omen, causing death whenever he stops riding. He carries his head in his arms and wields a whip made of human spine. The most famous media depiction is probably Disney's "The Adventures of Ichabod and Mr Toad." I think you can tell I'm a little bit in love with the horseman mythos...

6. Minotaurs, Centaurs & Fauns: I'm not sure I'd consider these monsters but they fit with the themes of the rest of the list! A minotaur is a man with the upper half/head of a bull, a centaur is a man with the body of a horse and a faun is a man with the legs of a goat or deer, often accompanied by horns or antlers. Man is being used without gender here. I originally was only going to write about Minotaurs as I've seen plenty of centaur & faun kins but there's no harm in including everyone! I'm not going to type out the entire mythology of these creatures but a fun fact for you is that the Minotaur of Crete's real name was Asterion!

5. Selkies: Again, not sure if these would be monsters but they fit the list & some retellings portray them as such! Selkies are humans (by appearance, not species) that can take the form of seals using their fur coats. If their coat is stolen, they can be forced to marry the person who has it.

4. Gorgons: Just talking about these as a species rather than their specific Greek mythos. Gorgons are humans with hair made of snakes. Often different interpretations give them patches/designs of scales, snakelike markings and/or fangs. My favourite modern depiction of a gorgon is Viperine from Monster High!

3. The Grim Reaper: I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been kinsidering this for a while! There are hundreds of personifications of Death throughout the history of humanity but the Reaper is probably one of the most recognisable in modern times. The Grim Reaper is most frequently depicted as a skeleton in a cloak, suit of armour or robes, bearing a farmer's scythe (it harvests souls like crops). I've been talking about media interpretations of these throughout so shoutout to Discworld Death, one of my favourite comfort characters! I love the animated version of Soul Music.

2. Shade: Finding information on this one was a little challenging! Shades are the spirits, ghosts or apparitions of someone currently residing in the underworld.

1. Custom Monsters: Got a bunch of phantom limbs that don't match a different kin? Have memories of being/feel like a cryptid that doesn't currently exist as a legend? Be your own monsterkin. Be a kin of your own species. I have one! I just need to actually draw them...

That's all folks! 10 more niche monster & mythological kintypes for you to kinsider! Please send me an ask (anon is enabled) or reblog or whatever if you're any of those kintypes, I'd love to hear from you! As always, please do your own research on these species & their folklore, I've only done some brief googling to add some more context to this list. This blog is for entertainment purposes, not educational! Let me know if you guys like seeing this sort of content though, I've really enjoyed researching this so I might start doing some more in-depth and well-researched posts on some of these.

[hazelkjt]

OC Introductory Post

Hello, and thank you for stopping by my blog! I'm Hazel and this is my main character for everything FFXIV related, from raiding to rp'ing. My pronouns are he/him, I'm an early 20's college student still trying to figure out what to do with my life, but I'm getting there!

I had mentioned this before but I'll reiterate it here: this blog was originally just for my main FFXIV OC, Hazel Kha, but because trying to manage multiple blogs was pushing me away from doing anything with these character I'm consolidating this one to have all of my OCs on it rather than just one. Those old blogs will remain up to keep the content from disappearing but I will not be utilizing them anymore. I'm sorry if you followed me here exclusively for the Hazel stuff, she will still be the main focus of most of my posts here but there will be others posted up here and there.

I'm situated on Zalera (Crystal) and spend most of my time either raiding or taking GPose shots, but regardless I look forward to seeing everyone's creativity here on the Tumbles.

Anyways, onto the intro bits to them all below the Read More

Hazel Kha

Age: 24 as of Dawntrail

Race: Xaela Au Ra

Height: 6'4"/193cm

Nameday: 25th Sun of the First Umbral Moon (February 22nd)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Bisexual

A young hunter and warrior of the Kha tribe, Hazel is a proud daughter of the Azim Steppe who has always longed to see more, to do more. Through her mother's collection of foreign books and literature she came to daydream and wonder of the lands beyond the Steppe. Her desire for adventure high a fever pitch when coming into possession of a wandering samurai's soul crystal, and all the memories and knowledge it contained. She would hold on to the stone dearly for years, until one fateful day she had a chance encounter of a lifetime and through it found her way across the waters to Eorzea. After arriving she found herself under the employment of the Sharlayan scholar Nolanel Corbeaux, working as both research assistant and hired hand to help defend against threats. Not long after Hazel finds herself under the tutelage of Lia Amelune of Ishgard, retired Dragoon and head of her own noble house. Extremely curious and adventurous by nature, Hazel's love of the unknown is matched only by her competitiveness. Idealistic and prideful, Hazel takes to each new day with excitement and wonder in her eye.

Claire Ashe (Claire Bas Syndris)

Age: 29 as of Dawntrail

Race: Garlean

Height: 6'2"/188cm

Nameday: 17th Sun of the Third Astral Moon (May 17th)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Lesbian

A pureblooded Garlean who spent most of her childhood and teenage years living in Ala Mhigo under Garlean occupation. She grew up befriending many of the Ala Mhigan children there without her parents knowing. After her two closest friends were beaten to death in the streets, Claire revoked her family name and fled the city, no longer disillusioned by the Garlean propaganda she was fed her entire life. She traveled to Ul'dah and came into contact with the Lemures, where she was then trained by Drusilla as a Reaper. With her training and pact with the Voidsent Sidian, Claire aided in the revolution to liberate Ala Mhigo from Garlean control. She now works aboard the merchant ship The Enduring Deeds as a deckhand and the ship's main cook. She wears a bandana at all times to hide her third eye, paranoid over the general consensus most people have of Garleans. She puts up a cold and harsh exterior, which as of this point might not be as much of an act anymore, but underneath is a truly kind soul afraid of being hurt and hurting others just from existing.

Derrinall Evramont

Age: 33 (physically) as of Dawntrail

Race: Duskwight Elezen (also Ashkin/Undead)

Height: 6'7"/201cm

Nameday: 9th Sun of the First Astral Moon (January 9th)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Pansexual

Derrinall Evramont originally lived during the final years of Gelmorra. His family were that of knights, dedicated to serving the people, though unfortunately his life was not lost in service of this oath. Sickness claimed him a few years before the total fall of Gelmorra, his soul adrift yet still holding strong to his memory and sense of self for centuries...that is, until he was brought back to the star for reasons he did not know. When he awoke again he wandered the ruins of the crypt he was buried in, eventually stumbling upon two he would learn to be kindred spirits, in a way. The two strangers helped him to recover even as he kept his personal information close to his chest, eventually pointing him to work and housing in Ishgard. He found work under Lia Amelune, both as house servant and a member of the House's ranks of knights. Derrinall's previous experience as a knight of Gelmorra saw him quickly rise through the ranks to become Captain, a title he holds with pride and only the occasional harassment of the Lady he serves.

E'venna Zekiel

Age: 21 as of Dawntrail

Race: Seeker of the Sun Miqo'te

Height: 5'4"/162cm

Nameday: 3rd Sun of the Sixth Astral Moon (November 3rd)

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Sexuality: Straight

E'venna Zekiel is the eldest daughter of five children. After her father was tempered by Ifrit and subsequently killed, she took it upon herself to help her mother care for her younger siblings, specifically her triplet younger sisters. It wasn't an easy road to get where she and her family are now, especially in a place such as Ul'dah. E'venna began her "career" in back alley fights, as she had always been scrappy in a brawl. After getting into an impromptu fight outside the Pugilist's Guild she was offered membership, and upon joining took it upon herself to partake in Coliseum matches. The shine of her golden hair is matched only by her bright smile and optimistic personality. Combined with her unorthodox and playful fighting style in matches and soon E'venna had earned her the nickname "The Dancing Coeurl" from dedicated fans of her's. Her tournament winnings are a major boon to the family, with it they are able to put the three youngest through a formal education. Her family members almost all strongly disapprove of E'venna's line of work she can't imagine herself doing anything but. She's found her place, and that's in the ring.

Exploding Goldfish

Age: 36 as of Dawntrail

Race: Hellsguard Roegadyn

Height: 7'2"/218cm

Nameday: 30th Sun of the Third Umbral Moon (June 28th)

Gender: Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: AroAce

Exploding Goldfish, simply known as "Fish" by most everyone, was born to a family of miners in Uldah. Throughout his life he was surrounded by heavy machinery, sparking a lifelong love of machines and inventing. His youth was spent learning everything he could about technology. His studies eventually paid off and he scored the job of his dreams working as part of Garlond Ironworks...for a while. An accident during a project cost Fish partial vision in his left eye and his position in the company. Scarred and humiliated, he drifted for months before finally finding secure work and pay at Wolves' Den Pier. Fish spent his time maintaining the machines used in "Rival Wings" competitions, and when he wasn't working on repairs he was drowning his self-pity in alcohol. It wasn't all for nothing, however. While at Wolves' Den, Fish chanced upon meeting a scrawny Viera living under the pier; Qara Wen. It took some coaxing but eventually Fish was able to befriend him, and over time that friendship evolved into brotherhood. And so when Fish was recruited to join the merchant ship The Enduring Deeds, his one request was that Qara be welcomed aboard as well.

[maniculum]

Pinned Post, or, What Is This Blog Exactly?

Given the recent influx of new followers, I figure I had better make us a pinned post so people know who we are and what we're doing. Because, as much as I enjoy just posting whatever, this is a podcast account and people should know that. Especially if they like weird medieval stuff, as that is our whole deal.

The Maniculum, available wherever you normally get your podcasts, is a show where we read medieval literature, make jokes about it, and then suggest ways to adapt it into TTRPG material (or other forms of storytelling). We try to pick especially strange medieval texts, most of which you would be unlikely to come across in your typical medieval-lit survey course, though we have done a few well-known ones (most notably our series on Egil’s Saga).

It’s hosted by Zoe and Mac. (This is Mac typing now; I do most of the Tumblr posting. Zoe sometimes posts as @meanderingmedievalist.) Both of us are medievalists with like degrees and stuff, so we at least kind of know what we’re talking about when we discuss medieval literature. Mac is in grad school, most of the way through a PhD. Zoe finished her MA a few years ago and got a job working on video games – she did narrative design on Pentiment, if you’re familiar with it.

The general structure of the podcast is that one of us (we take turns) chooses a text and reads / paraphrases / summarizes it for the other, who responds to it with comments & questions & jokes & digressive tangents. Then we close with a series of segments where we pull interesting features, ideas, etc. from the text for potential use in your TTRPG / storytelling projects.

If you want to check out the show but don’t want to start at the beginning where you have to listen to us figure out what we’re doing (the audio on the first handful of episodes is a bit rough, for instance), here are some suggestions:

Our 2022 Halloween special (link here), where we read a selection of medieval stories about undead creatures.

An episode (link here) about the dragon Fafnir and the famous slaying thereof.

The Story of King Constant (link here), a fairly short and obscure tale from medieval France. (The episode is still a normal length; the story is short enough that the full text fits comfortably into a single episode with no summarizing needed.) I include this one because I feel it’s a good self-contained representation of what we do.

The first episode (link here) of our two-parter on the Peasants’ Revolt, released to commemorate May Day 2023.

Lanval (link here), one of the most widely known stories by Marie de France. This is also good as a self-contained episode, and it's a story that may be familiar to you already.

And if you want to jump into a series:

The first episode (link here) of our seven-part series on the highly-regarded Icelandic text Egil’s Saga, about a Viking warrior-poet who is also kind of a dick.

The first episode (link here) of our ten-part series on Perlesvaus – our longest series on a single text so far, wherein we work through what might be the weirdest Arthurian romance out there.

If this just popped up on your dash, sorry for the long self-promotional post. Hope you come check us out. New episodes every other week.