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blueywrites · 5 months

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u-haul 'cause I might let you move in it (1/2)

dom dealer!eddie x sub fem!reader Inspired by @2jihiir0's fanart 'make it quick... baby's sleeping'. leave them some love! read part two here.

2.5k

cw (both parts): 18+. smut, drug use (weed), situationship becoming something more (???), shame kink, praise & degradation, pet names, exhibitionism-adjacent, no y/n, no physical descriptors, eddie's still a fairly soft dom bc I'm just not hard like that 😭

an: this is just the start of the filth, y'all - most of it occurs in part two 😌 shout out to @munson-blurbs @hellfire--cult @word-wytch and @the-unforgivenn for their feral support and @fracturedarkness bc this wouldn't exist without her.

enjoy part one! 🩵

The afternoon sun hangs heavy in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow through the dusty blinds of the trailer. The air inside is thick with the scent of smoke and stale beer, a heady mixture that clings to the walls. It’s the kind of smell that seeps into your clothes, your hair, your skin. It should leave you feeling slightly suffocated, especially considering the oppressive humidity also clinging to every surface, but somehow, there's a measure of comfort in the acrid scent.

You’re sitting on the threadbare couch, the fabric worn with age creaking as you shift restlessly, trying to find a more comfortable position in the heat. The fabric scratches your soles as you prop your feet up, leaning against the couch arm, fanning the neck of your thin tank top to peel the dampness from your chest. Beneath the old coffee table, your flip-flops lay forgotten, abandoned on the threadbare carpet. A beer bottle sits nearby, sweating rings onto the surface of the table, a testament to the lazy haze of the afternoon.

On the other side of the couch, your dealer lounges against the cushions, his movements fluid and practiced as he rolls a joint with deft, inked fingers. You look over at Eddie as he watches the TV, his head lolled back against the couch, his eyes heavy-lidded, relaxed. He looks good. You can’t help but spend a long moment staring at him: the angles of his face, his big brown eyes and puffy lips, his long, shaggy curls that frame his high cheekbones. He’s pretty, and he’d look downright innocent if it wasn’t for the long nick of white scar tissue kissing the edge of his lip and the scruff darkening his cheeks and jaw. Your gaze dips lower over his tight black jeans, lingering where they meet his rust-colored tank. The shirt is caught up around his hip, revealing a strip of pale skin and a tattoo that you can just see the bottom of. You want to run your tongue over it, then keep mapping all his ink until your mouth has touched each bit of darkness on him.

This thing with Eddie started when you broke up with Trevor and lost your go-to source for getting high. When you’d asked around, a friend of a friend recommended Eddie Munson, saying he was the best you could come by in the area: decent product, reasonable prices, and not a total creep. The first couple times were quick transactions, and then you started hanging around because the girl who hooked you up also told you Eddie would likely offer to smoke you out if you did. He let you hang around because he didn't much care either way, and he didn't find you hard to look at. That led quickly to casual sex whenever you saw each other, usually when you'd come by a couple times a month to restock your supply. And the sex is great– better than the weed, and Eddie's weed is always high quality. He just has this ability to make you feel special in the moment without having any expectations about whatever-you-and-he-were as soon as you pull your panties back on, leaving you free to date whoever you wanted when you left his trailer.

It’s ecstasy to have all of his attention focused on you in those moments because, though Eddie looks like a mean bastard, he gets off on your pleasure. He's not one to make you feel used or neglected; he's a thorough lover. And he has a knack for straddling the perfect line between sweet and sour. He'd praise you then humiliate you in the next breath, and it drove you wild. Kept you coming back even though he never expressed interest in taking you out or doing anything with you other than just getting high, watching TV, and fucking you 'til you screamed.

And then, at some point, you find yourself declining guys' offers for dinner or drinks. You just don’t feel like going out anymore, because trying to find Mr. Right was getting exhausting— at least, that's what you tell yourself. And Eddie starts calling you sometimes to let you know he had a new strain he thought you'd like, some of Rick's fancy shit. Soon enough, you go from seeing him twice a month to twice a week, sometimes more. And slowly but surely, you begin to notice a change in yourself. You start staring at all his tattoos and wondering what the stories are behind them. Feeling an odd flutter when you flop down next to him and he'd sling his arm around your shoulder without a thought. Laying tangled in his musty bedsheets, and when he leaves to go to the bathroom, secretly burying your nose against his pillow because the smell of him has suddenly become... comforting.

Things are changing for you, and you really hope they are for him, too. 'Cause if not, it seems your traitorous heart has determined you'll be in for a world of hurt.

"Y'want some of this?" Eddie's voice cuts through the haze, drawing your attention away from the television. You glance over to see him holding up the joint, a lazy smirk playing at the corners of his lips. The glow of the joint illuminates his features, soft against the curve of his cheek.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your own lips as you shift closer to him. He pats his thigh, a silent invitation, and you don’t hesitate to straddle his lap, the heat of his body seeping through your pajama shorts. His jeans are rough against your tender inner thighs as you shift, grazing the hardening bulge pressing against his zipper; your stomach tightens with the first whispers of arousal as you feel it brush against you.

"Gimme a show then, kitten," he murmurs, his voice low and husky, making that arousal bloom fuller as you grow excited. It’s a playful taunt, a challenge, but beneath the teasing facade, you can sense something more—a hint of possessiveness, maybe even of longing. That could just be your wishful thinking, but nonetheless, your heart races at the prospect as you meet his gaze, accepting his challenge.

With a coy smile, you slip off the couch, settling on your knees and running your nails up his thighs on your way to his lap. You take your time unbuckling his belt, keeping your movements slow and unhurried, though you secretly throb as you begin to unwrap him. It’s crazy how quickly he turns you on— how all he has to do is smirk and pin you with a look, or murmur a few words in that low, husky tone, and you’re already wetting your panties for him.

Eddie waits just long enough for you to shimmy his jeans and boxers down to his knees, and then he catches you by the jaw with a broad, rough palm. You look up at him as he guides you back up with his light grip on your face. His eyes flick down to your mouth as he leans forward, curls swinging to kiss his jaw. You brighten, eager to feel his mouth on yours, wondering what kind of kiss he’ll reward you with— something slow and sweet, or wet and filthy. But he leaves just a peck on your lips before drawing back, tightening his hold on your jaw to keep you firmly in place when you instinctively go to chase him.

You fall immediately into a pout, slumping back on your heels as he breathes a chuckle at you. Eddie bends to lightly pat your cheek a few times in consolation before settling back into the cushions, his posture relaxed yet commanding. He must know the gesture would rile you up, and it does— you feel your disappointment churn in your belly, turning to petulance. In retaliation, you clamber up to your feet, abandoning your position kneeling before his boots. With narrowed eyes, you drop your shorts and panties together without ceremony, stepping out of them and kicking them to the side, denying him the chance to enjoy watching you strip. You cross your arms when your bratting only makes him smirk even wider at you. He quirks an eyebrow as if to say, “Well?”

You resent how much you like his stupid face.

The couch creaks its protest as you climb up onto it, slinging a leg over his lap again, this time with nothing separating your skin from his, which is hot and slightly sticky with the humidity. His cock kicks subtly when your pussy grazes him, and you bite your lip, feeling an answering pulse of desire within yourself. When you mount him, reaching behind to grip him at the base and notch his fat head at your entrance, Eddie prepares for your performance: draping his arms casually over the backrest, fingers idly tapping against the worn fabric, his other arm hinging to bring the joint lazily to his lips.

He looks like such an asshole, waiting for you to service him. And you might've goaded him more because of it, but you forget about being bratty the second you sink down on his lap, taking him all the way into you.

A quiet moan sighs from between your cracked lips when you sit fully on his cock, your eyes slipping closed as you get lost in that initial stretch. He's not the only guy you've fucked— far from it— but there’s just something about the way he slots inside, nudging against the end of you, that always leaves you feeling more perfectly filled than anyone else. Eddie watches with a sly glint in his half-lidded eyes as you start to grind on him, letting yourself drift into the space he always brings you into. With him, you can be soft, sensual, and needy, but also desperate and pathetic. You can act out all your secret desires, know that Eddie will flay you open and force you to acknowledge them, and let the shame of it get you off all at once.

Eddie lets you be a freak, and better yet, he likes it.

Desperate to earn his approval, you run your hands up your body, dragging over your hips and up to your neck as you ride him. Your abdomen rolls as you grind with fluid, sensual movements, doing your best to put on the show he’d requested. You look at him through your lashes as your wandering fingers catch on the hem of your tank top, dragging it slowly up to reveal your soft belly. You hold it just below your breasts so Eddie can watch the way your curves bend and move while you work his cock.

In some respects, the dance is for you as much as it’s for him because the way Eddie watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring every inch of your body, really turns you on. You bite your lip, your clit swelling with anticipation as you tease him with a glimpse of the underside of your breasts. He hums approvingly, taking a leisurely hit from the joint. As the smoke curls around him in a tantalizing haze, you give in sooner than you’d been intending and ruck up your top to let your breasts fall out. You start to play with them, squeezing and kneading as you rock your hips harder, your own need mounting.

Gradually, your performance ceases being a performance. Your nipples begin to ache, begging to be touched, and a moan spills unbidden from your lips as you tweak and pinch them, sending pleasure zinging straight down within you. You close your eyes, a tiny frown forming as you try to concentrate on the low flame of your arousal, but it remains at a frustratingly low simmer. You rock faster, grind harder, pinch harsher, your movements a silent plea for the sweet relief only Eddie can give. You’ve built your own pleasure as much as you can on your own, and now, you need him. The coyness is wiped from your expression, replaced with a begging pinch in your brow, a needy, wet shine in your eyes as you blink unseeingly at him, all pretty and pathetic on his lap.

At the border between satisfaction and desperation— that’s where he wanted you.

A hand at your hip stills your movements, and as your eyes snap to focus on Eddie's face, you see he’s leaned forward, his nose scant inches from yours. His other elbow is planted on the couch arm, the joint poised tantalizingly nearby in his ringed fingers. Eddie squeezes your hip firmly, then again more gratuitously, and when you obediently fall still to sit motionless on his cock, he lets his palm slide up the curve of your waist in a drag that makes you gasp, you're so wired and ready for his touch. You watch, rapt, as he brings the joint toward his lips, salivating as a swipe of his tongue moistens them.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap up to his, captured completely by his unwavering gaze. As he inhales, those brown eyes glitter in the orange that flares bright at the joint’s end. And he keeps that point of contact between you as his broad palm travels up, up, up— over the supple heft of your breast, grazing the hard peak of your nipple, skimming the thrumming pulse in your neck, his thumb catching on the underside of your jaw as he cups your cheek. He closes those scant inches between you, and when the bulb of his nose nudges yours, your mouth falls open as your eyes slip closed.

He exhales, you inhale. When the warm rush of Eddie’s breath kisses your lips, you take it into you, your chest expanding as your lungs fill with smoke. The taste of him mingles with a heady rush of arousal, and you continue to take, even through the twinge of discomfort as your lungs stretch to accommodate it all. As Eddie gives you the last of his smoke, you close your mouth, keeping it all inside.

“Hold it,” he murmurs against your skin. His lips trail kisses along your jaw as you obey, fighting your diaphragm as it hitches, wanting to cough. You make a little noise in the back of your throat when he nips you, the brief sharp sting soothed soon after by the flat of his tongue. You hold as long as you can, and when you finally exhale, Eddie rewards you by taking hold of your hips, pulling you into a slow, sensual grind as he kisses you sloppy, wet lips wide and devouring. The friction and fervor crash over you in an intense wave of pleasure, one that has you whining, twisting your fingers in his hair, pressing your tits to his chest, ready to ignite—

The front door shakes with the pounding of a heavy fist.

#blueywrites #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine

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jube-art · 3 months

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Hi!! I really love your Kryptonian au. I’m just curious, what is Clark and Conner’s relationship like in this au? Another thought - would the bats be unsettled by the fact that Kon isn’t fully Kryptonian and has Tactile Telekinesis? Have a great day!

The greenhouse had plenty to do in it, for the four hours a day the refugees could sit in it without adverse reactions. Plenty of plants they hadn't seen before, plenty of plants they had. Food larger than even back home on Krypton, growing freely to take and eat whenever one of them had enough energy to reach out and grab them. The large windows shows a barren landscape of nothingness, of blinding white and snow that reminds Bru exactly of Kandor, back when Kandor still existed.

They were brought things, while they rested in the greenhouse, to keep them warm. Fluffy strange towels used to wash off the water that they were allowed to bask in- water abundant and clear and overflowing, circulating constantly, filled to the brim unlike anything Bru had seen before. Little strange things that gave off heat to warm their bones, chords coming off of them leading away into the main chamber, brightly colored and strange. Plush chairs to rest on, shade to hide away under when they started to get dizzy.

Daym was already asleep, snoring gently as he drifted. Te normally floated around, bouncing slowly off the sides of the water enclosure, but Jae, Dic, and Bru, towards the end of their time in the greenhouse, usually just talked.

Today, like most days, the topic was of their generous hosts, the members of the noble house of El.

"-I heard that Kon-El was a clone of Kal-El." Dic whispers to them, wrapped up in a thick bundle of fabrics and with his feet towards the little portable heat source. "Can you believe it?" Bru can, he watches them both, a bit farther away and talking in that strange, disjointed language they do. They look remarkably similar, more similar than Bru and Dyam do, even, it's not unusual for a leading political or scientific figure to be cloned to continue on their work after the original has passed. A little odd to have them be so close in age, of course, but if Kal-El really does have a whole, living breathing clone, so vividly well done, then this world truly is a paradise.

Clark and Kon have their canon, comic relationship of being strange Brother-Uncle-Nephew-Cousin things, and are relatively friendly with each other. As for the cloning, we're saying that it's not unusual on Krypton (because they're all pod people) for important figures to be cloned over and over again to continue on their work. (Similar to if we just continued to clone FDR and elect him president every four years.)

#clark kent #kon el kent #kon el #bruce wayne #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson #art #my art #dc comics #dc #doodles #ask #jason todd #anonymous #double kryptonian au #double kryptonian #writing #my writing

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dearmantis · 2 years

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First Snow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova /The Darkling x Tidemaker!Reader

Summary: Snow finally falls and you want to enjoy the freezing temperatures at night in peace.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.3k

Authors' Note: Yes, I wrote this because it finally snowed where I live and I really missed it. This is completely plotless and pointless, I won't lie. This is also not edited and English isn't my native language.

You've lost the feeling in your nose, ears, hands and feet twenty minutes ago, but you can't bring yourself to go back inside as you stare up into the sky, snow landing on your face and settling on top of your lashes.

The wish to lay down in the thick, undisturbed layer of snow in front of you is strong but you still remember the last time Aleksander found you buried under a few centimetres of snow, his face red from anger and the freezing temperatures.

"Do you want to freeze to death?" he had asked, voice sharp as a knife as he grabbed you by the collar, quickly pulling you up to your feet before removing the snowflakes sticking to your cloak, scarf and fur hat with quick, light slaps against the fabric and fur.

He has never been able to understand your love for freezing temperatures, for ice and snow, thick cloaks and hot teas, so you decide every year to sneak out during the coldest winter nights, leaving him, comfortable in his ignorance, alone as he works the night away.

You usually make it back inside before he notices your absence, the exceptions being few and far in between, so you don't think he knows just how often you leave him during the night to enjoy the winter in peace.

Of course you wish you could spend the nights with him, surrounded by shadows and frost, but he has simply never been the type to truly get it.

In all honesty, you don't fully get it either. Why snow and ice are what has you in such a trance while almost every other Tidemaker you know feels the happiest around lakes, rivers or the ocean. Closeness to the element you control brings ease to Etheralki, at least most of the time. It's like having a weapon close by that you'd be able to wield blindly if required. Why your favourite weapon is tied to a season is a mystery, however.

Humming quietly you rub your gloved hands together before lifting them up to your lips and blowing hot hair into them, trying to get some feeling back. The metal bench you're sitting on is still ice cold and refuses to truly warm up, instead sucking the heat out of your thighs, but it's also the only place where you can sit, and it's still too early to go back inside. The first heavy snowfall of the season deserves to be appreciated.

Thick clouds are sitting in the sky, covering the stars and blocking the light of the moon, drowning the surroundings of the Little Palace in darkness, the only light source being the small lantern you carried outside with you, housing a big, white candle, proudly burning with all it's might inside of the protective metal and glass box.

It's peaceful, so peaceful in fact that you don't even notice it when somebody approaches, stuck too deep in your own thoughts to realise what's going on until the person sits down next to you and holds a steaming cup under your face. Your head whips to the side, hands moving together in case you have to defend yourself, when you finally recognize the huge black fur coat next to you.

"Sasha" you huff, fingers wrapping around the hot cup, the warmth stinging as feeling returns slowly to your hands.

"I woke up because I got cold" he confesses, a small, bashful smile visible on his lips. "And you weren't next to me, so I looked out the window to see if I could find you out here."

You're sitting on the bench closest to your shared quarters, directly visible from the windows. As cheesy and stupid as it might sound, the closeness to Aleksander brings you a similar feeling of safety and peace as the snow. Staying too far away from him, especially when you're both vulnerable, easy targets – him being asleep and you being stuck daydreaming – is almost uncomfortable.

Taking a small sip from the tea he has brought you sigh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. The dark fur of his coat tickles a bit against your skin as you respond.

"I'm sorry, Sasha. I just wanted to get outside and enjoy the fresh snow. I completely forgot that you could wake up."

Aleksanders sleep has always been notoriously light, waking up at the slightest of sounds, change of lighting or shift in temperature. All things considered it is quite a miracle that you got to spend those previous thirty minutes undisturbed. Usually you choose to sneak out while he isn't in the palace or while he's working the night away in the war room, but tonight you simply couldn't help yourself.

He shakes his head, lifting his own cup to his lips to drink a few sips before he speaks. "Don't worry about it, milaya. I should've expected this. You've spent the whole day staring at the falling snow outside. I just assumed you wouldn't dare to leave while I slept next to you. You usually only disappear when I work."

There's a thick layer of amusement audible in his voice and it warms your heart better than any cloak or fur ever could.

"So you knew?" you ask surprised, lifting your head from his shoulder to look at him. "But you always get so mad when you catch me. I don't understand-"

"Let an old man have his fun, milaya." Aleksander cuts you off, hand moving to your shoulder to press you back against him. "Of course I notice it when you sneak out. And I come and get you when you stay out for too long. It's cute that you thought I wouldn't notice it, though. Especially considering that I always have a Heartrender around to stand guard."

You groan loudly, taking another long sip of the tea before burying your face in the Darklings thick fur coat again. It smells nice, like rosemary and burning wood, with an underlying note of something sweet. Aleksanders own smell that you've never been able to fully identify.

"So Maksim betrayed me." you murmur into the coat, taking another deep breath to take in more of the smell. Sweet berry jam, maybe?

He laughs loudly, his body shaking with the sound as he leans his head against yours. "Betrayed? He is doing his job, don't be too hard on him."

His hand rubs your back carefully and you can hear him taking a big sip from his own tea.

You sit like this for a few minutes, occasionally taking a sip from your teas, enjoying the darkness and snow. When your cup is empty you place it on the ground in front of you before you stand up to quickly sit down on his lap, hands moving inside his coat to lay flat against his back, soaking in the warmth his body gives off.

Pressing yourself tightly against him he moves to rest his chin on your head as a laugh rumbles through his body. "Are you getting cold, milaya?" he purrs, placing his own cup next to you on the bench to free his hands and hug you freely.

"I just want to be closer to you for a bit." you answer softly. His thighs are so much warmer than the cold bench, his whole body radiating heat like a fire.

"You could be even closer to me if we went back inside." Aleksander whispers back.

"I don't want to go back inside yet. The Squallers are gonna remove the snow in the morning. I want to enjoy this as long as I can."

"Maybe, but we will freeze to death together."

"We will freeze to death by then."

You giggle quietly.

#aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #darkling x reader

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prettyprincessmorgan · 5 months

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california; may, 1892.

tw: smoking, use of marijuana !

This is... pleasant. The scent of herbs meanders lightly within his tent, candles the only gentle sources of light, and the flaps all drawn for privacy.

In thin nightwear, Kehlani sits lazily on Arthur's cot, delicate fingers rolling marijuana, raspberry leaves and white sage into a joint一 a shared indulgence, naturally. Because when is anything between them not lately?

It's hardly clear to him what all this is.

This woman ー my god, one he's known for only a few fleeting months ー has to be magic; she's certainly proved she's capable of it. With the giddiness he feels around her, or even with this strange mix of plants in her hands if nothing else.

This'll help you unwind, honey; give it a try, she'd whispered weeks prior, kindness weaved into the chestnut roots of her irises. Warmth dripping from plump lips like thick nectar.

And it had. My, but it had.

An evening of hushed conversations amidst wisps of fragrant smoke with this girl welcomed in a sense of tranquility he'd scarcely ever felt.

Oh, it feels like an eternity slipped by since then. The dew-kissed grass and crisp air of that time has now morphed into late spring heat and the incessant trilling of cicadas.

Relinquishing his gunbelt with a weary sigh, Arthur gingerly shifts upon his aching feet. His gaze, like moth to flame, drifts to Kehlani, sitting there as if a skilled artisan ensnared in perfecting the fruit of their craft. Meticulous, serene.

Crush dried petals, leaves. Sprinkle in. Roll. Seal it with a whispered kiss to Nature. Sprinkle, roll, bless. A small stash for later evenings.

It's strange, really. A nomadic spirit she most definitely is, yet this same woman sits within the confines of his space with the ease of orchids nestling into the valleys of tree bark, butterflies finding home in lush meadows and sunlit gardens一 feeling, knowing, she belongs.

Maybe that is why her presence feels so ethereal. Why he thinks the fabric of reality may be cracking every time she is near.

Instead of discovering the joys of this unfamiliar land ー racing in fields with wild horses, basking in dawn-tainted rivers ー she's here, waiting to curl up against his sturdy frame and lose all sense together. It's a peculiar world to live in, isn't it?

His mind is hazed. He vaguely registers his own voice resounding as he clears his throat, day-old fawn craving attention, "I'll light it," his fingers lightly gesture towards the freshly made joint.

Slender eyes flicker to him, a glimmer of delight in their depths, ''Yeah?'' He barely musters a feeble nod.

With jewelry clinking together, she shifts within the modest cot, decorated body easily creating a space for him. ''C'mere,'' Kehlani's invitation dances in the air, hand tracing the sheets invitingly.

She smiles, patient, waiting, and it's the blooming of a wildflower, the birth of a sun. It stirs a twitch of response from his own lips.

Whatever you wish for, sweet girl.

The dulcet heat of her frame calls, oh it sings, but the man is no Icarus, if only because he lacks the blind confidence, the naivete; burnt before by another, he fears his wax heart melting again.

Yet, as always, this woman has a way of softly prying away his defenses. Soothing his worries, calming his burns as would the fresh water of a trickling stream.

''Since ya ask so kindly,'' his words rumble in jest, and they earn him a breeze of laughter, rustling the canopy of his soul. The light slips in.

Settling within arm's reach, Arthur finally decides to maintain a safe distance一 this already feels enough like a dream without adding in the feel of her skin anyway.

''Ah, didn't realize I needed to beg...'' Kehlani's voice, imbued with a confidence that contrasts greatly the fractured English of their very first exchanges, carries a lighthearted tune.

His hand reaches to strike a match, and as he swiftly drags it beneath his boot, he notes his fingers shaking. Seriously?

Smiling in spite of himself, he leans forward, his answer laced with dry humour, ''Yeah, gotta admit 'm a tad offended. Keep steady now, will ya?'' his large palm barely daring to cradle the curve of her jaw in place, he approaches the swaying flame.

Kehlani sits patiently, features brightening at the contact. Her fingers naturally drift up to his wrist, encircling一 embracing his touch. Heat blossoms in his belly.

The joint's tip ignites, wisps of white swirling away before she inhales deeply, lashes fluttering shut.

Holding in the aromatic blend, she lets time slip by, savouring, and eventually releasing. The mist escapes with words woven in its tendrils, ''Ay, I missed this.''

Arthur's gaze, reverent in its study, watches unashamed laughter spill through kiss-worthy lips, reminiscent of windchimes and birdsong. So soon is he feeling dizzy, the prospect of a high now seeming trivial in comparison to her.

Yet, it seems he is but a greedy man; his fingers still carefully pluck the rolled herbs from Kehlani's grasp, letting the drag he drinks in seep into his lungs and intoxicate him further.

The nerves clouding his senses dissipate if only for a moment一 his brows furrow, lips curling into a tentative chuckle as he exhales, "Missed the feeling, or me?"

The scented mist twirls the tent, his voice carrying hoarsely when he speaks. She meets his gaze, grinning, "The blend of both, I believe一 missed getting high with you..."

Sneaky fingers steal away their shared sin, ''Mm,'' Kehlani hums thoughtfully, ''Mostly just missed you though.''

It's a miracle he still manages to breathe, to remain even relatively at ease. His jaw aches with the sincerity of the smile this has drawn out of him. Christ, he feels like a lovesick fool.

''Pining after a nasty, ol' outlaw?'' He prays she'll laugh, reassure him that this isn't as serious as it feels, ''That's one way to pass the time, sweetheart." C'mon, just make it clear for him what this is and isn't.

Kehlani's giggles bubble up like a mountain stream, but, as usual, clarity eludes her words. ''Hah! Well, I'd say nasty, ol' outlaw is quite a stretch, but yeah, I guess I have been yearning a bit,'' her features hold a distinct softness, ''You've been scarce around camp these past few weeks..."

Relaxing into the plush pillows she'd gifted him – convinced he'd deserved something nice for once – she gracefully extends bare legs upon his lap, guiding the joint to his awaiting lips, "I'm all ears一 any leads, strange jobs to recount and entertain me with?"

Arthur just can't tear his eyes away from her, especially not as she searches his gaze with such care for any sign of discomfort at the touch she's initiated.

His sizeable hand, like second nature, drops down to her thigh in reassurance, and the hum of pure happiness he receives in return is worth more gold than he's ever stolen.

With a light clear of the throat, he finally nods, "Uh..." His breath trembles as he inhales a puff of the herbs, "Just the usual一 stealing some wealth from those who ain't got no need for it."

Kehlani smiles at his remark, though her eyes remain mesmorized by the warm palm on her skin一 his heart cracks wide open, painfully aware of how rarely he finds the courage to reciprocate her affections, ''Mm, so no grand tales to regale me with?'' Her gaze met his again.

His head shakes gently, ''Nah, 'm sorry, sweetheart; t'was mainly real shitty gigs.''

''Ah, real shitty? ¡Joder! I rarely hear you admit that...'' she breathes out, grimacing with empathy, "I guess this is a welcome change of pace then, yeah?''

''Mhm, more than welcome,'' he admits, his typically deep voice unusually hushed, ''Missed ya一 missed being around ya...'' He feels lightheaded, lips seemingly laughing and moving by their very own will, ''It's like a damn glimpse of Eden, I reckon.''

Morgan, you fool. In this intoxicated state, with his mind floating higher than the clouds, of course he spills forth romantics, embarassing himself in front of the one he adores so.

Yet, as gorgeous features light up, shining like the setting sun outside, Arthur can't find any space within the confines of his heart to regret the love which escaped his throat.

Her smile incapable of leaving honeyed lips, Kehlani nestles into his side, head finding a resting place against his chest as she delicately reaches for the joint.

A quiet moment passes, content inhales and exhales of the herbs spilling forth between them. Her fingers bring them like a divine offering to his own lips, his hand caresses her thigh in feather-light touches.

With every little movement of hers, the pleasant jingle of jewelry, vestiges of her travels, follows一 extravagant earrings, artisanal bracelets stacked along lithe wrists, shiny trinkets entwined in voluptuous curls. He swears he'll hear this same melody in his dreams tonight.

A languid smile graces his lips, "You know, I did see a few pretty sights, though... just scenery, bunch o' nature. The sort you'd like."

''Did you sketch any of it?''

Arthur wrestles a grin, tickled by a sense of déja vu, ''Maybe.''

''Dios mío, I swear I'll beg if I have to this time; would you please just一?''

The words barely leave for the dusk-painted sky above, abruptly shut up by Arthur blowing his smoke at her, sending the curls framing her features into a waltz, ''Keep dreamin'.''

Kehlani's crystalline giggles peek through his soul like threads of sunlight filtering through dense trees; in that instant, he yearns to curl up right here, within her radiant glow.

Blessed, peaceful, oh he'd linger until his earthly body rots. Until time itself loses its meaning, until all that remains, all that has to matter, is her.

Yeah, he's fucked.

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #kehlani yzeala #arthur morgan x oc #rdr2 oc #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan rdr2 #oc #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan fluff #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x original character

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lacheri · 2 years

Note

Hey uuuuuuuuh can I get uuuuuuuuuuh... Number 34 with a side of Levi please? iluthankiesmwah

i'm half asleep posting this but this was too fucking cute to not hop on IMMEDIATELY

cw: a whole lot of cussing and a whole lot of fluff, i'm clawing at the walls screaming "when", minors/ageless blog dni

wc: 900+

prompt event: open until sunday 12/11!

34. why are you so cold?

You are truly fucking evil, Levi thinks. You must be some kind of sadistic devil, purely and irrefutably cruel and wicked. You must have planned this, plotted and schemed this treachery — traitor, you fucking traitor.

It’s the dead middle of winter, the temperature unyieldingly frigid despite the thick insulation of walls that surround the two of you. It’s almost his birthday for fuck’s sake, and yet here you are, slumbering away on his bed with every square inch of his comforter, without a single drop of sympathy. The plush edges are tucked so tightly under you, so compacted, you’ve managed to spin yourself a cocoon of warmth, leaving Levi to brave the harsh cold all by himself.

And the thing is you were so sweet before you fell asleep. Lurring Levi into bed with those eyes of yours, (the big, puppy dog ones, the kind you only use when you’re laying it on extra thick. As if Levi isn’t going to jump at any opportunity you present him to please you. Ridiculous.) pouting and asking so delicately — can we cuddle? Please Levi?

Nestling yourself right up against his side, throwing your arms over his waist, peppering kisses into his goddamn neck, you created the perfect storm. Get him all soft and sleepy, putty in your claws, melting at the attention, just to tear the illusion of security to shreds.

Yeah, you planned this. You had to, you fucking thief.

Levi’s eyes narrow into slits. He had awakened to the realization he was covered in goosebumps, teeth chattering in his sleep. And you, you were the reason as to why.

He wonders if you’re as comfy and content as you look. The sun is probably pissed off somewhere in the sky wondering where all the heat on Earth is coming from. Little does the sun know it’s coming from the most unassuming source, Levi’s double crosser of a girlfriend.

He should teach you a lesson. He should rip that blanket right out from under you and encase himself in its snugness and spare absolutely none of it to your shivering form. If you want to be greedy, he’ll match your selfishness so quickly it’ll make your head spin.

But as Levi reaches for his revenge, the fabric gripped in a fist, he goes rigid.

Because you’re fucking purring. You’re sighing happily, a sweet noise of comfort squeaking it’s way out of your sleeping throat, and suddenly Levi feels as if he was about to kick a puppy.

Evil, he repeats. You’re evil.

His fingers relax against the blanket, and he groans, berating himself for being such a softie.

His eyes linger on your face, or at least what he can see of it. The comforter rests right under your nose, obstructing a clear view of your expression, but he imagines you’re probably smiling. And why wouldn’t you be? So safe and warm, wrapped up in his only blanket, surrounded entirely by the scent of him. He thinks you breathe a little deeper upon that thought just to spite him.

The anger that flooded his veins only moments ago dissipates into nothing. Instead the vengeful hand that only meant to bring you suffering smoothes over your forehead, drawing patterns over your temple. You hum, pushing your head further into his touch, and suddenly Levi can’t remember why he was ever angry in the first place.

Probably survival instinct, he thinks. That’s the only reason you stole all the blankets. Your body is just trying to bare the cold.

Besides, if you really were evil, how could you be so cute? And god fucking dammit you are cute. Angelic, even, with the way you look so peaceful and docile and fuck — he can’t take that away from you.

So Levi sucks it up, sinks down into the mattress, and huffs up at the ceiling. He’ll fall back asleep eventually, he surmises. That or his body will shut down due to the cold, whatever happens first.

As he tries his best to get comfortable, shimmying closer to your radiating heat, you stir. He swears under his breath for inconveniencing your tranquility, and loathes himself entirely when your eyelids flutter.

“Levi?” you slur. “What’re doing?”

“Go back to sleep.” His voice sounds rough, the chill makes his teeth rattle when he speaks.

“C’mere,” you pout, untangling yourself from under all the tucked in edges. You lift the comforter, silently inviting him to join you.

A savior, that’s what you are. You’re kind, merciful, and thoughtful.

Levi sighs out a, “Thank fuck”, and eagerly accepts your summoning. When he situates himself in the gracious embrace of your warmth, he lets out another sigh of relief. He’s still shivering, but it’s calmed since he’s slotted himself next to you.

As he finishes his settling, his hand comes to rest on your waist, and you jolt backwards with a hiss.

“Levi?” you ask, sleep still thick and syrupy on your tongue. He hums in response, already lost in the temptation of a subconscious state. “Why are you so cold?”

Suddenly, Levi is wide awake. He laughs, hard and muffled with his face pressed into the pillow beneath his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says after his laughter dies down, though your confusion grows. “Go back to sleep.”

And then you’re back to purring, and Levi’s back to calling you a devil, but only because you’re just too sinfully sweet and his poor heart can’t handle it.

Yeah. You definitely planned this.

#i had to do this before i fell asleep i just loved it so muc h #lacheri prompts #levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #levi ackerman x reader

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divine-misfortune · 1 year

Text

Okay so I blame @sphylor for daring to bring up the concept of Narciccus Rain....

Trans masc Rain, mirror masturbation, taking self love to a whole new level here. Also feat. Dew being in awe of his boyfriend. As he should be.

I did not proof read this so if you see weird spelling no you didn't.

Rain finally drags himself out of his bed, he finally manged to pull his hand out of his pants long enough to do so. He'd felt it since waking up, burning, needing, aching...All Rain could do was writhe in the sheets and try to satitate the feeling, but his fingers just don't seem to cut it. Sure, he gets himself off at least twice and makes quite a mess of himself but it doesn't quell the need. Honestly it leaves him worse off.

He tries to make it to the bathroom with the hope he can shower away the smell of sweat and sex. Like that might be what frees him from this relentless haze of desire, and maybe it could have...If he could've made it that far.

Rain catches the sight of himself in the mirror and pauses, leaning in to look at himself a bit closer.

A deep flush had taken his body. Lavender just beneath the skin, darkest in his cheeks. He tipped his head slightly, a curl or two falling out of place, and stares down his own shirt with a strange fascination. His tanktop hangs loose, yet another piece of clothing he'd stolen from Swiss, and he can see far too much. His collarbones, his ribs, the curve and dip of his sternum. He can see the stiff buds on his chest and absentmindedly paws at them through the fabric.

He bites his lower lip and takes note of the fact it's already gone red and puffy from his fangs worrying it earlier. He runs the other hand down his cheek, drags the tips of his nails down the column of his throat and nearly whimpers. If he closes his eyes he can almost pretend it's someone else's hand around his neck. Pressing down against his pulse, holding him still...But part of him doesn't want to. He likes the sight of his own thin fingers wrapped delicately around his windpipe far too much. Makes his knees weak.

Rain sinks to the floor and parts his thighs automatically. If he was thinking about anything clearly, maybe he'd have felt a bit of shame when he feels himself dripping...All from just looking at himself. His boxers are wet, probably soaked judging from the way they cling to his skin. He still lets his hands wander despite the throbbing between his legs.

A small giggle spills out of him as he pushes beneath his shirt, exposing the dark trail of hair along his belly. He runs his fingers through it with a pleased trilling sound before his hand drifts to the source of his arousal. He palms himself through his sweatpants and shudders.

He doesn't know when he stripped, he doesn't really remember all that well. All Rain knows is the reflection mimicking him. One hand is splayed out on the floor between his knees to balance himself while the other drags slowly over his swollen clit. He can just barely see the way it juts out between his fingers in this position. The sound is wet, filthy, and he moans unapologetically. He's dared to dip his middle finger inside himself a few times but doing so only adds to the puddle beneath him, it only frustrates him further becaue it's not enough. He knits his brow as he repeats the motion, generously allowing himself two digits that he tries to curl into the right place.

The smell of his heat was thick in the air, nearly too much for his dizzy head to drown in. It was sweet like morning mist, sharpened with salt, tinged with something almost floral. It was enough to make Dew stumble in the hall outside.

He'd been on his way to complain to Rain, because of his absence that morning Dew got saddled with the other ghoul's chores. But the familiar spark of annoyance is snuffed out as the realization washed over him. Heat, he should have known. Dew goes to push the slightly ajar door further but freezes, mouth running dry.

Fuck.

He's something to see there, hips bucking into his own hand. From his place in the doorway Dew can see the curve of his spine, the way his shoulderblades tense, the elemental symbol branded onto his skin...He swallows thickly, grip on the doorknob tightening. Maybe he should worry about melting the damn thing with how hot his body decides to run. Out of everything, it's the way Rain whispers to himself, that's what truly gets him.

"Satanas...Look at you," he breathes, tossing his head to move the hair from his eyes. "Aren't you just the prettiest sight. Left on your own and you entertain yourself." Dew notes the way his supporting arm begins to tremble but Rain chuckles to himself. "Your'e your own porn huh?"

Dew bites his cheek when Rain shifts a bit, no longer leaning forward. He sits back on his heels and moves his arm behind him. He does his best to angle his hips, expose himself to the mirror. Dew could feel his mouth practically water, the sharp smell was getting to him. He felt lightheaded.

But Rain was...Just a mess. Dew's hand twitched at his side. He could feel the swell of arousal in his gut. The thought of shoving his hand down his pants crossed his mind, it wouldn't be the first time he'd pleasured himself to the sight of Rain but it felt dirtier somehow. Like he wasn't supposed to be seeing this, and if Rain were to catch him it would all end abruptly.

And his fingers plunged in and out of him without resistence, he almost seemed to try to roll his hips to meet each frantic thrust. His thighs trembled desperately and Dew longed to settle himself between them. Clean the slick from his skin with the flat of his tongue, tease the sensitive skin with the graze of his teeth.

"Fuck, ah- fuck! Not..." Rain's brow furrowed as he added another finger. "Not enough, need it. Need it, need cock." The words spilled out of him, practically babbled. Dew swore he could see tears pricking in his eyes as he glared at his reflection. "Not gonna be satisfied until you get really fucked, need to be knotted...You look so needy,"

It was true, he did. So beautifully desperate. It only stoked the fire in his belly.

"So..." His eyes fought to stay open, fluttering as his voice pitched. Not wanting to lose the image of himself for a moment. "So pretty, so pretty when you're close."

Dew nodded without thinking about it. So painfully enraptured that he nearly forgot Rain wasn't speaking to him.

Rain's moans pitched as his body strained. His mouth hung helplessly open, panting like a dog. Like each breath brought him closer.

"Yes, yes, fuck! Just like that, just-"

He cut himself off with a gasp, eyes practically going cross as his hips canted upwards. He pulled his fingers out with a noise that almost sounded liike a yelp. Dew felt the heat in his face burn. The slick pooling between his thighs was nothing compared to the gush of wetness his orgasm had brought. Some had even managed to get on the glass itself, dripping down the mirrorface.

Rain's body sagged and twitched as he lazily circled his clit with the tip of his index finger. His head tipped forward, chin against his chest as he tried to catch his breath. Frustration still creased harsh lines on his face as he lifted his gaze.

Dew froze when Rain's eyes found him in the gap in the doorway. Just standing there, peeping, a pervert, Dew wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

But his expression softened to something more akin to pleading. Dew couldn't take his eyes off that mirror if he tried to.

"Firefly," his voice wavered slightly. "Need you to make it better." Rain weakly arched back again to show off his cunt, hole still clenching around nothing. "Please baby, I can't take it..."

He hardly trusted himself to speak, not when he was this hard. Especially not when he was so drunk off pheramones. Dew just let himself in and made sure to kick the door shut behind him. He didn't need anyone else seeing Rain in this state, he selfishly wanted the water ghoul all to himself.

#writing #spicy tag #rain ghoul #the band ghost ficlet #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #void writing #nameless ghouls #dew ghoul

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 1 year

Text

Short Prompt #7

TW: Blood, destruction, injury, screaming mentions, fire, fear and begging (it's asking for help, not the very degrading kind, dw)

To call the city a ruin would be an understatement.

Entire buildings collapse, littering the streets with chunks of glass, bricks and debris. Black tendrils of smoke snake up from the burning asphalt, shrouding the baby blue of what was once a peaceful, sunny sky with a thick blanket of dark smog. Merciless, bright orange flames lick shamelessly at whatever victims they can prey on, be that a car, the street or worst of all, a human being, and the sheer heat of it leaves Hero sweltering even with the supposedly light material of their suit. Nothing but the wails of sirens and desperate screams of anguish can be heard, piercing the hero's eardrums violently enough to threaten a headache.

Even with all that, there is still something one would crown as the worst of what was happening to the crime-fighter's home; the streets start to run the deep, unmistakable crimson of blood, corpses well past the degree of identifiable scattered everywhere. It sends a shiver up Hero's spine because while destruction was no stranger to them, they hadn't seen it to such vicious degrees before.

Through all of it, a set of soft whimpers and ragged breaths catch the crime-stopper's attention, the sound not quite far from where they are. They walk towards the source, wiping the tears from their irritated eyes blurring their vision, glass crunching underneath their boots.

Huddled up against the wall of what remains of an alley, is the shivering, injured form of Villain. Their breaths come out sharp and uneven, blood marring their features, burns and bruises in sickly shades of brown and purple lining their body. Their suit is left no more than a dirty mess of fabric, more rips and shreds than an actual costume. Hero winces at the bits of glass wedged into some open cuts.

At least some of this had to be intentional.

"Hero, please. H-help me. D-don't arrest me, please," the criminal rasps out, eyes wide and glistening with tears threatening to spill.

This is a version of Villain Hero had never thought they'd see. Their enemy, cold and calculated, had always held their dignity in the highest regard. They left no room for displays of vulnerability and fought tooth-and-nail no matter what.

Yet here they are, on the verge of tears, begging the hero to save them. It almost pains them to see the villain this way.

They oblige, scooping them up gingerly against their chest. Had they always been this light?

"Please don't arrest me, don't take me to the agency. I didn't. . .didn't start this," they sob into the crook of their enemy's neck, saying the word 'agency' like it was hell. And suddenly, the hero was hit with the inclination to know why that was.

"I know," they answer softly. The villain, no matter how intelligent or scheming, did not possess the resources to lay siege to their city like that. It didn't seem like something they would do anyway.

They run their fingers through their nemesis's hair soothingly, trying to get them to relax even slightly. "I'm taking you home, okay?"

They feel them nod fervently against their neck.

Hero doesn't quite understand the exact mechanics of why they wish to know who had been responsible for turning Villain into a terrified mess of emotions clinging to their form, why they want to tend to their wounds back home, or why they seriously want to know why the villain tried to avoid the agency like it was the plague.

All they do know, is that they want all this like a visceral urge clawing at their heartstrings with sympathy and another emotion they couldn't discern for their nemesis.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @catsarecool00 @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

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springfallendeer · 11 months

Text

Newfound Treasure (Vampire!Eclipse x Reader)

This here is a commission that I recently finished. I had a lot of fun with it. It takes place in the same AU as "Celestial Pact", but is sort of a run-off idea of the Reader getting into a relationship with Eclipse. Specifically a relationship in which the Vampiric Deity becomes very possessive of them. (This is definitely the result of me relentlessly bullying someone with ideas of Vampire Eclipse being possessive).

Par for the course, it contains things like biting, blood drinking, and some implications of violence and animal death.

Female reader, though I don't get overly involved in descriptions this time. No nicknames. Just a story about finding a wounded God and them falling in love with you (or developing an obsession with you).

Part 1: Newfound Treasure

The blood of a God.

An ichor saturated in power far beyond the grasp, or the understanding of mankind. Thick. Never to be spilt without justifiable cause, lest horrific curses fall upon thee who dared to draw it.

That forbidden substance now marks a trail on the path. Glowing, and hot, it naturally draws your attention; and the attention of all others in the town; to its source.

Like the others around you, you tremble at the sight of the wounded God.

Like the others around you, you recall the many horrific legends that revolve around the Deity, and what he is capable of doing to those like you.

He is an ancient, powerful God of the Cosmos. A being which rules over space and all that exists within it. One which is capable of destroying this world and others like it; one which has, most definitely, brought other worlds to ruin.

If that alone was not terrifying enough, he doubles as a God of Vampirism. And like the others afflicted with the curse, he is doomed to sustain himself on the blood and flesh of mortals.

He is the origin of the curse. He may very well be the only means of ending it. But that... That cannot be proven, and proving it would only lead to catastrophe.

You anxiously watch as the Deity limps through the town.

His frozen flesh is battered and torn, seemingly from a violent battle with another God. A battle which he surely must have won, otherwise he would no longer be standing.

Glowing ichor seeps from the many open wounds. His heated blood steams and sizzles upon meeting the ground, where it gradually cools and loses its fiery hue.

Everyone gives him a wide berth, terrified of what might happen should they allow him to draw near enough to reach out and touch them.

He... Pays them no mind, strangely enough.

In fact, he seems quite lost. He looks dazed. Delirious, even. As though he is not only unsure of where he is, but unsure of where he means to go.

He isn’t reacting to the people around him, or even looking in anyone’s direction. Even though he must be hungry, it is as though he is ignorant to the presence of food.

Or perhaps... Perhaps he is intentionally ignoring the people around him?

Perhaps he is frightened, because he is hurt and lost?...

The idea of that being the case... Makes you strangely sad.

Empathy really is a powerful thing. Capable of overwriting fear or logic.

Tentatively, you reach into your pocket to retrieve a handkerchief.

Though you hesitate... You eventually work up the nerve to approach him.

His eyes flicker to you the instant that you step towards him, rather than away. But he takes his gaze off of you just as quickly, making you believe that he really must be intentionally ignoring the many humans that inhabit this space around him.

Maybe he is afraid... No. He must be afraid. Afraid of you, and afraid of the people that are standing around gawking at him.

Cautiously, you make your way over to him. You stop well within arms reach of him, and nervously extend your hand towards him.

Your hand trembles as you bring the handkerchief to his cheek.

He keeps his eyes off of you, up until the fabric comes into contact with his face. The instant that he feels you touch him, his focus moves to you and to you alone.

His gaze burns with the intensity of the sun. A sun blocked out by the body of the moon, in hopes of preventing your soul from being burned by its light…

You know now why he is the one that they call “Eclipse”.

His gaze alone proves so intense that you nearly recoil in fright.

Just nearly.

Instead, you guide your trembling hand to the deep gash upon his cheek, where the handkerchief immediately soaks up the thick, glowing blood that flows from the wound.

You yank your hand almost immediately after. Not because you’re afraid, but because his blood proves hot enough to scald your delicate flesh.

He visibly flinches in response to your abrupt movement, seemingly startled. Or perhaps he simply resists the urge to reach out and touch you in turn.

You see one of his many arms shift ever so slightly at his side, as though he meant to reach out for you. But if that was his desire, then he hesitated, and in doing so resisted the urge to reach out and... Do something. You don’t know what he would do if he actually reached for you.

But you’re perfectly safe!... Probably. Hopefully.

Hopefully the actions taken today will not come back to haunt you…

He keeps his eyes locked on you as you stand before him. His gaze is somehow not only intense, but heavy. It burns your soul just like his blood has burnt your hand. And while you somehow urge yourself to maintain eye contact with him, you cannot help but feel as though a crushing weight is slowly settling over your meager frame.

“I-I-!” You stammer, opening your mouth to speak before you can even think of something to say. But having not even taken the time to determine what you actually mean to do, you then close your mouth just as quickly.

His posture changes ever so slightly in response to your voice. You swear you see him straighten out his hunched body. If he were to straighten out and stand at his true height, you have no doubt that he would tower over you.

You are but a child in comparison to his full stature. If he were to stand up properly, you are unsure if you would even be able to work up the nerve to try and speak to him, yet alone approach him as you have done.

You take a deep breath in hopes of composing yourself.

When you next open your mouth, it is because you have taken the time to think of the right words to say.

“You look tired, my Lord...” You awkwardly murmur, taking a slight step back so that you might offer the Deity a respectful half bow.

“If it would please you, you are welcome to come and rest in my home.” You offer, albeit with a note of uncertainty obvious in your voice.

You then fall silent.

Honestly... You don’t expect much of a verbal response from him, if any. The stories that you’ve been told have all made him out to be this silent, malevolent force that would sooner tear your head off your shoulders to guzzle your blood than share a single word with you.

But at the same time... The stories seemed wrong. They made him out to be this monstrous force that desired only to devour the mortals of this world; so much so that he was forced to lock himself away, otherwise he would consume everything that came into his line of sight.

Yet here he was, limping through a human town without offering so much as a malicious gaze and flinching in response to an unexpected human touch.

The stories had to be wrong. Or at least heavily embellished.

You are safe.

Or at least you assumed yourself to be safe, until he finally got around to fully standing up.

He had basically been kneeling in front of you due to wounds on his legs. Wounds which must have made it painful for him to walk, as he had kept them mostly curled up whilst he limped through the town. That was why you had been able to reach out and touch his face in the first place.

You see his body shudder and strain in response to the change in posture, as if attempting to fight off the urge to curl back up so that the pain would be kept at a reasonable level.

You seem to shrink as he rises to his full height. Or at least, you feel as though you're shrinking whilst you watch him grow before your very eyes.

Skies above, he towers over you! He is easily, easily, twice your height. If not taller.

He also seems a lot less docile now that he has stood up fully.

Nothing about his expression has changed. Nor has his pain become any less apparent. It is genuinely scary how easily he can remind you of your own mortality simply by standing and observing you with his body straightened out.

He could crush you beneath his heel. Or pick you up and tear your limbs off like a child ripping the wings off of a fly. Or throw you to the far side of the town with the ease of a man tossing a stone.

Nothing about his expression implies that he has any desire to do such brutal things to you. But his alarmingly massive height, mixed with the many stories of your youth, and the intensity of his gaze all work together to simply make you feel…

Insignificant.

You are nothing compared to him and you will continue to be nothing whether or not he kills you or ignores you.

Despite being absolutely terrified, you do not run from him. Nor do you withdraw your gaze from his. Some part of you has seemingly been paralyzed by his divine presence, and that is the part of you that would allow you to retreat.

Tears well in your eyes as you stare up at him. Not only from the fear, but because you have not blinked once since first locking eyes with him.

He reaches for your face just as that first tear rolls down your cheek.

You don’t even flinch when you feel his fingers brush against your damp skin, though you are unsure of how you manage to keep still.

But you do calm down, somewhat, in response to the contact.

You can feel the gentleness in his touch as he wipes away your tears. The simple contact proves more than enough to make it clear that he has no intention; yet alone any desire; to harm you.

And that is all the reassurance that you need to calm yourself in his presence. Though you do, unfortunately, remain easily intimidated by him. So you do not fully relax, despite understanding that he harbors no ill will towards you.

You find yourself absently leaning into his touch. Just slightly.

Though his blood is boiling hot, his skin is cold as ice. It warms faintly in response to your heat. Not enough to resemble the warmth of human touch, but enough to almost feel pleasant against your skin.

He remains silent for a very long time as he stands there with his hand against your cheek.

You remain silent in turn.

The town remains just as silent, as if frozen by the astonishing events which are taking place. No one moves. No one speaks. Even the birds and the wind have fallen silent, as if waiting with bated breath to see what will unfold as a result of your actions.

“Are you not afraid?” He suddenly asks, admittedly startling you to the point that you jolt in response to his voice.

He does not sound nearly as monstrous as the stories made him out to be. In fact, his voice is... Surprisingly pleasant. Smooth and deep, but calm. It is the voice of a guardian and a protector. Not the voice of a ravenous beast bent on bloodshed.

“I am... A little.” You admit in response. The idea of lying or even downplaying your anxiety never even crosses your mind. And so you reply to him with complete and total honesty.

You are afraid of him, yes. But you are afraid of him in the same way that you fear a large dog, or a horse. The fear comes from knowledge that you could be easily harmed by an entity so much stronger than you. But you know, based upon the behavior of this powerful entity, that the danger is not real.

He has no intention of harming you, and you can feel it. So while you are afraid of his power, you are at ease with his ability to keep that power under control.

“But you should be terrified. Am I not monstrous? Do you not fear what I might do to you?” He asks in turn, as if dissatisfied with your overall response. He almost sounds... Startled. Or confused. It seems as though he cannot fathom the idea that his presence alone does not fill you with dread.

Yet even as he seemingly attempts to instill you with more fear, his touch remains gentle. The only change that you can feel is a slight tremor in his hand; likely from the pain of maintaining his stance when covered in so many wounds.

“You don’t want to hurt me.” You bluntly and confidently reply.

“Are you certain?” He questions, spitting out his words so quickly that he would have interrupted you had you actually had more to say. So quickly, in fact, that even his voice seems to tremble; even if only slightly.

“I could devour you here, in front of all your friends and family. They would be able to do nothing to save you.”

“Yet you touch my cheek so gently, my Lord...” You murmur in response.

You feel his hand twitch somewhat in response to your words, but he otherwise falls still and silent.

Finally, you find the will to blink. Or rather, you wind up calming down enough that you can finally relax your eyes.

Intense as his gaze has been, it was never really all that threatening. As in you did not look into his eyes and sense any manner of malice. They were just... Powerful; as the eyes of a God should rightly be.

That power startled you and made your poor mortal soul seize up in alarm, that was all.

In a way, you had simply been awestruck. The eyes of the Divine are not so regularly encountered. As the windows to the soul, you found yourself unwittingly staring at something that your fragile, moral mind could not immediately comprehend. Of course you would freeze up in response!

For a few moments, he remains silent.

You remain silent in turn, absently leaning into the palm of his hand as he stares down at you.

Every now and again you resume eye contact with him, and your body stiffens faintly as if on the brink of seizing up. But the sensation grows weaker and weaker between each blink as your mind and soul adjust to the dominating presence of a God.

Eclipse breaks the silence with a sigh.

A long, tired, pained sigh. And as he sighs, his body relaxes and submits to the agony that has overtaken it. He shrinks back down as he curls up, seemingly satisfied enough with this interaction to stop putting up a brave front.

Whatever he meant to do, he must be satisfied with the outcome. Though you aren’t sure if he meant to chase you away or test your honesty.

And, honestly, you aren’t going to ask. Who are you to question the motivations of a God? Yet alone a wounded one who would have every reason to be cautious while in this vulnerable state.

“I would like to rest.” He finally replies, having decided that he would take you up on your offer.

You then cautiously reach up to your cheek to wrap your hand around his, so that you can guide him to your home.

“Can you walk?” You quietly ask, naturally aware of how hard it must be for him to move if he is in this much pain.

If needed, you could probably find a wagon or an animal that could be used to move him. He genuinely looks exhausted.

“I am tired. But I will manage.” He replies.

You do not question him on the matter. It is not your place to do so.

So you gently pull on his hand to guide him towards your home; which is, unfortunately, a good distance away. He will have to limp after you for a while. And you will have to endure the many heavy stares of the other people in town as you guide this wounded, Vampiric God to your home.

The journey is made in silence. Neither you nor Eclipse speak. The people that you pass by do not make a sound; though their eyes scream loud enough whenever you dare lock your gaze with someone.

The only real sound to be heard is that of footsteps. Yours as they steadily trek along the path, and his as his feet scrape heavily against the stone.

His every footstep grows heavier and more tedious as you walk with him. But as a God, he is nothing if not powerful. He manages to endure the journey to your home. He even endures the difficult journey up the stairs to your guest bedroom, where you encounter something of a problem.

He will not fit... Anywhere. You brought him upstairs because there was no place for him to properly rest downstairs. But none of the beds in your home are large enough to support his body.

This is when you get your first glimpse of what he is capable of doing.

You hear him murmur something in a language that you cannot understand. And then you watch, admittedly dumbstruck, as the room warps and changes around you.

The foundation of your home creaks and groans as wood and stone stretch to accommodate his size. The bed and bedding make concerning sounds of violent destruction as they too transform to better support him.

The room and the bed grow larger to provide him with a comfortable place to rest. And when all is said and done, the Deity is left looking even more exhausted.

Once the initial shock of what you’ve just witnessed wears off, you give Eclipse’s arm another tug to guide him to his newly redone bed.

Thankfully, he is able to climb up on his own; though he is left gasping for breath after the fact.

He settles onto his back and folds his hands atop his torso. You listen for a moment as he breathes heavily, and you awkwardly stand nearby as he attempts to recover from the recent strain.

“Uhm...” You... Make a bit of an awkward noise in preparation to speak. It at least catches his attention.

“Can I get you anything, my Lord?” You ask.

It was only polite of you to try and tend to your guest. He was wounded and tired and while you were unsure of how to ease away his discomfort, you still had every intention of doing what you could to be of help.

“Blood.” Eclipse bluntly replies.

Your stomach sinks.

While you probably should have anticipated such a response, there was something of a difference between suspecting something and having it actually happen.

The Deity seems to take notice of your sudden shift in mood.

Or maybe he just noticed how quickly you went pale in response to his request.

You watch as he closes his eyes and covers them with the back of his hand.

He takes a deep, wheezing breath.

“Not your blood.” He calmly specifies.

“A goat or a sheep will do fine. Even a pig, if that’s all that you can find.” He states.

You stare at him, completely bewildered by his statement, as he begins to feel around his body.

He pats along his chest and sides, and along his hips as if in search of something. Until eventually he manages to locate what he’s looking for.

He then holds up a small coin pouch. Based upon the sag of it, you can tell that it contains quite a few coins.

He uncovers his eyes to look at you as he properly holds the pouch out for you to take.

“There should be more than enough here to purchase an animal.” He states as you tentatively reach out to accept the coin pouch.

You’re admittedly startled by the weight of it. Where the pouch should only hold around ten to fifteen coins, it feels as though it's being used to carry over a hundred!

“I only need the blood. You may keep the meat to use it as you will.” He adds.

In other words, you’re to go and buy him an animal to use for food. He’ll take the blood, and you’ll keep the rest.

It sounds like more than a fair trade, to be honest. Him giving you such a considerable amount of food in exchange for providing him with shelter and care.

Yet for some reason, you hesitate.

“Will animal blood really satisfy you?...” You find yourself hesitantly asking.

Call it morbid curiosity. Or call it genuine concern; or confusion. But for some reason, you aren’t really satisfied with the idea of just going out to buy an animal for him to drain of its vital essence.

“It will not be the same as human blood.” Eclipse calmly replies.

He then falls silent.

You remain quiet for a short while as you weigh your thoughts.

You want to be a good host. Eclipse himself has just admitted that while he will drink animal blood, human blood is what will be of more help to him.

You know that he is wounded and in an obviously weakened state; which likely means that he will struggle to perform his Godly duties until he has healed.

Not only that. If another Deity were to arrive to challenge him while he was in this state... Would he even be able to fend them off?...

You try to ignore the faint trembling of your hand as you reach to place the coin purse on the edge of the bed.

This is probably a foolish idea.

A very foolish idea.

You carefully undo the first few buttons of your shirt to further expose your neck and shoulders.

“What are you doing?...” Eclipse unexpectedly asks. He almost sounds nervous.

“You said that human blood would be better...” You murmur in response, hesitantly working your shirt down one shoulder to better expose an area for him to bite.

“Animal blood will serve me just fine-” He attempts to rebuke you, only to stiffen as you step closer to the bed and begin to climb up.

The instant that your knee presses into the mattress, he goes silent.

“... I cannot offer much, my Lord. But you may drink what I can give. And I will fetch an animal after.” You reply.

Human blood would be better for him. So having a drink from you along with the animal blood would be better than just giving him an animal to drain, would it not? You would effectively be giving him a nutritious boost to make the less desirable food more substantial.

It was like adding fresh meat to a dish that only drew protein from eggs. You would add to the nutritional value of the meal, rather than leave it as it would be; incomplete.

Eclipse seems visibly uneasy as you climb further onto the bed.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, seemingly unable to find the words to protest what you’re doing.

You can hear how dry his mouth is. Each time he parts his lips, you can hear how they struggle to peel away from each other. You can hear his tongue pull away from the roof of his mouth.

He must be parched.

You hope that this will not leave you... Compromised. Yeah, that’s the word. Compromised. Worse off than you are now.

There certainly isn’t a better word to describe what you’re afraid of.

Honestly, you half expected to have to force the Deity to take your blood, given his hesitation. So when he abruptly reaches out to drag you down on top of him, you cannot help the little gasp of surprise that escapes you.

His touch feels different, now. Intense and desperate.

His blood soaks into your clothes as you lay across his body. If not for the cold temperature of his flesh, his boiling ichor might have burned your delicate skin.

It is still hot. But not hot enough to be painful.

Goosebumps form upon your skin as you feel his heated breath roll across the nape of your neck.

“Are you certain?” He asks, taking this last opportunity to try and scare you away or convince you to back out.

Though you tremble in response to his voice rattling against the side of your neck, you do not retreat.

“You may have what I can offer.” You reply in turn, intentionally using very specific words.

He may only take what you can afford to give him. Nothing more.

Given his experience and his power, he should know what that limit is and he should be able to prevent himself from crossing that line. You have no choice but to put faith in that ideal now that you have offered yourself onto him.

He offers no additional rebuttal. No additional warnings or arguments of any sorts.

What you next feel is his mouth upon your throat. Ravenous and desperate.

You feel the bitter sting of his teeth piercing your skin; the dull ache of blood seeping from the wound with each beat of your heart.

His tongue is hot. Just like his breath. And despite the pain, you find yourself strangely drawn to it. Lured in by the forbidden pleasure which dwells at the edge of the great bleed.

He greedily consumes every drop of blood that spills from your throat, and you feel your body growing weaker with every passing second. Each contraction of his throat pulls more and more of your vital essence for him to consume.

He only bites you once, and he drinks until the blood stops flowing. Then he yanks his mouth from your throat as if startled by his own actions.

You’re still conscious, but you’re exhausted. Just trying to lift your head proves strenuous. More so when the Deity proceeds to lay an arm across your back, causing you to effectively fall down completely on top of him.

“Rest.” Eclipse quietly murmurs.

“But the goat...” You mutter in response, your voice now as quiet and exhausted as his is.

He proceeds to lay a second arm over top of you, literally trapping you with him on the bed in the process.

“You must rest.” He repeats his command, this time a little more sternly.

“I took a lot from you. As much as you could give, just as you offered. But it was more than enough to weaken you...” He sighs, having clearly decided that you’re entitled to a reason behind him insisting that you should stay and rest. Or maybe he had figured out that if you were not given a good enough reason, you would continue to try and leave so that you could buy him a goat.

“... It would bother me, greatly, to know that you left on my behalf only to get hurt. The animal could overwhelm you. Or mean spirited people could lash out at you, for daring to show me this kindness. I do not wish for you to be harmed because of me.” He explains further.

You can clearly hear the pain in his tone as he speaks. Pain and fear.

The idea of you getting hurt genuinely upsets him. It hurts him to think that you might get hurt because of him, and he is very much afraid that you will be harmed as a result of helping him.

You cannot help but chance a glance towards his face.

He looks so... Conflicted. Tired and conflicted. This whole situation must be so alien to him, given how heavily feared he is.

A reluctant sigh escapes you as you allow your eyes to close.

He really is kind. Surprisingly so, for someone depicted in such a monstrous light.

“I’ll rest.” You murmur, hoping to reassure the being that you will do as he has asked of you.

“Just for a little while, though. You’ll need more blood if you want to recover, right?” You add.

He shouldn’t complain about that sort of arrangement, right?

You hear him sigh in turn.

“When you can climb out from under my arms without a struggle, you may go.” Eclipse retorts.

You furrow your brows somewhat in response.

That sure is a strange way to go about doing things. But then again... Well there isn’t a better means of gauging your strength right now, is there? He certainly isn’t in any state to give you a less unusual means of testing your strength.

He wasn’t holding you down. He had just laid his arms across your back. You just happen to be so worn out from his feeding that you don’t have the strength to hold yourself up with his arms on your back. Simple as that.

“... Very well.” You mutter, opting not to try and argue with him on the matter.

He did have a point. With you this weak, the goat; or any other animal you might buy; would probably be able to overpower you if it decided to act up. And then you wouldn’t have the strength to chase it down and catch it if it somehow managed to get away from you.

There was also no telling if anyone in town would be willing to help you catch the rowdy beast, given the circumstances. So you were better off just trying to rest while you had the chance.

Even if it was a bit awkward that you were using the wounded God as a bed...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2: Treasure Claimed

Ten days.

That was how long it took for Eclipse to recover from his injuries. Ten days.

Ten days of routine care. Ten days of fetching him livestock to use for sustenance. Ten days of helping him clean his wounds. Ten days of fretting.

Ten days of watching him heal, and watching him open up to you.

He isn’t a monster at all. The Vampiric curse just has a habit of taking good people and twisting them into unrecognizable husks of their true selves when they fail to satiate their thirst for blood.

He feeds from animals because he does not want to hurt people. He does not want to be the monster that they think him to be.

During his stay, he has only allowed himself to feed from you thrice. Each time, you had to convince him that he was allowed to do so. And each time he made sure to treat you with utmost care.

With each bite, the feeding became less painful, and more pleasant. Relaxing, even.

In a weird way, you would probably miss the tired feeling that washed over you following each feeding session.

But you were probably just going to miss him in general.

Today was meant to be his last day with you. You went out to fetch one last goat. So that you could celebrate his recovery and send him on his way with a full stomach.

This time, the farmer wasn’t happy to see you.

Ten goats you had bought from him. Ten strong, healthy goats that he would have rather used for breeding, or for his own needs. All of them were sold to you so that you could feed them to a “Ravenous God”, as he called Eclipse.

He did not want to sell you an eleventh goat. He did not want to sell you another animal, period. Not if you were just going to use it to satiate the bloodlust of the “Monstrous Deity” that you brought into your home and encouraged to stay in town.

Now your arm hurts.

The farmer was needlessly rough in turning you down and sending you on your way. A faint burning, almost itchy sensation on your shoulder remained as some proof of the physical damage that had been done. Not to mention the red mark surrounding the small scratches that were barely hidden under your shirt.

You solemnly rub your shoulder in a vain attempt at soothing the discomfort.

This was not the first time that someone had manhandled you, and it would not be the last. But this has soured your mood, unfortunately.

No one else in town would sell to you. Not while Eclipse was here. None of them wanted to provide a meal to the Deity, as they believed that it encouraged him to stay or to return in search of food.

No one wanted him here.

Aside from you.

Now you had to go home and tell him that there would be no goat tonight. No goat, or sheep, or anything. He would have to take his leave on an empty stomach, unless he would be satisfied with one last drink of your blood.

Heck, you could use the relaxation that his feeding would bring, because you felt pleasantly heavy and tired whenever he finished. It would be nice to just lay down and sleep and not have to worry about anything.

You ignore the various looks you receive as you make your way back home.

Eclipse is there to greet you when you step inside.

For a split second you see something flash in his eyes, but you hardly have the time to register what it is.

Concern, most likely. It is obvious that you’re upset. Given how attentive he has been to you during his stay here; at least in the sense that he has worried over your wellbeing.

“I could not get you a goat. I’m sorry.” You murmur as you haphazardly remove your coat. You also offer him back his coin purse, as there is no need for you to keep hold of it.

“What happened?” Eclipse asks in response.

You swear that you hear something in his voice. A heightened emotion of some sort. But honestly, you’re so worked up that you can’t be bothered to really focus on it.

“You may feed from me if you’re hungry.” You reply, completely ignoring his question. You do not want to talk about it. You do not want to discuss how the people in the town have decided to turn on you in response to you having provided this being with food and shelter.

You then jump and freeze as the Deity proceeds to slam his hand into the wall over your shoulder when you turn away from him.

He easily could have put his hand through the wall if he had wanted too. But he did not.

The tension in the room is palpable now.

Fear bubbles up inside of you as the Vampiric God proceeds to trap you between himself and the wall.

His gaze is intense and burning. You can feel your skin tingle in response to his eyes.

More so when he leans down to bring his face right next to your ear.

“What happened?” He repeats, sternly.

Now you can definitely hear it. The anger in his voice.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as he brings a hand up to easily tug down the collar of your shirt, exposing the minor injury that the farmer left on your shoulder during your confrontation.

Multiple thin lines reveal where nails roughly dragged against your skin. The slightest hint of pink shows that while shallow, the wounds were just deep enough to draw trace amounts of blood.

You shudder, feeling Eclipse’s heated breath roll down over the marks on your shoulder.

His tongue follows suit. Initially, to clean the wound.

But then he bites you. Unexpectedly and without warning.

He sinks his teeth in, easily engulfing the wound with his mouth and surrounding it with the imprint of his teeth.

You whine at the sharp sting of the initial puncture, then gasp at the feel of his tongue dragging against the fresh wound upon release.

You offered your blood a moment ago. And even though he’s bitten you, it's obvious that he is not feeding.

Whatever he’s doing now feels closer to... Domination. Or possessiveness. It's as though he’s overwhelmed the injury inflicted upon you by the farmer with a wound of his own making.

Your legs are trembling by the time he sucks his tongue back into his mouth so that he can move his face back to your ear.

The wound is still bleeding, but he has elected to ignore it.

“What happened?!” He repeats again, the anger in his voice getting more intense this time; possibly because you’ve opted to ignore his question twice now. Even if the second time wasn’t entirely your fault, given his unexpected attack.

Only now do you realize how heavily you’re breathing. Likely from the adrenaline rush that came with being cornered like this.

You’ve never seen him so worked up. It's genuinely intimidating. Threatening, even.

Eclipse goes back to licking the blood from your wound as he waits for your response. His tongue focuses unnecessarily on the small scratches that the farmer gave you, as if attempting to completely erase the marks.

Little do you realize that that is his plan, and that he succeeds.

He commands the minor wound to completely heal through the movements of his tongue, while simply lapping up the blood that seeps from his bite in the meantime.

“T-the farmer-” You whine, genuinely distracted by the motions of his heated tongue against your skin. Whatever he’s doing is making you feel all tingly, in a weird sort of way.

What’s fucked up is that you’re pretty sure you like it. But you’re also so intimidated by him that it's hard to tell.

Eclipse withdraws his tongue completely when you finally start talking. Though he remains a distraction in pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

You can hear him panting. His breath rolls across your skin in heated pulses.

“The f-farmer was angry. He would not sell me a goat... And he was rough in making me leave.” You admit.

The Deity seems to growl in response. Though the sound was so faint that you hardly hear it.

You suddenly feel his teeth against the side of your throat.

He doesn’t bite you. Not immediately. He just uses his teeth and mouth to coax your head back so that you will further expose your neck to him.

You comply, even as you tremble in anticipation.

His lips wrap around your throat. You feel his teeth pressing faintly into your flesh; but he still does not bite.

He does not bite, yet he sucks roughly on your skin.

A pathetic sound escapes you in response. A pathetic and embarrassing sound, at that.

You should be terrified, given how he’s behaving. He’s acting like a territorial animal threatening to tear you apart!

Yet despite your anxiety, you cannot deny how arousing this situation is.

The panting. The firm, controlling physical contact. Everything from his nuzzling to his biting has been used to assert some level of power over you, and yet he has not done anything to hurt you.

Well... The bite did sting at first and it is technically a wound. But you do not perceive that as him having harmed you.

You aren’t quite sure what’s gotten into him, and as confused and anxious as you are, you don’t really hate it.

You’re... Uncertain. Unsure as to what he’s doing or why, or what he even means to do with you.

When he finally pulls his mouth from your throat, you hear the audible pop of your skin escaping the intense suction of his lips.

A faint sting makes it clear that he’s left a mark.

No.

He’s left a hickey on your neck.

You feel your cheeks flush the instant that that realization dawns on you. Which in turn draws his attention to your face, prompting him to nuzzle your cheek while making... A noise that sounds somewhere between a growl and a purr.

Oh.

Oh dear.

Is he?!...

You shudder a bit, having now grown acutely aware of something else being pressed up against you.

Where the fuck did this come from?! Throughout all of his time here, he’s never said or done anything that implied any level of carnal interest!

Yet here he is half grinding his obvious carnal interest against you whilst he traps your much smaller body against the wall with his own. He’s practically curled up around you in order to do what he’s doing, which just further makes it clear how persistent he’s being in dominating your personal space.

“E-Eclipse-?!” You stammer his name, though you quickly fall silent again as he drags his tongue along your cheek. Your thoughts escaped you the instant you felt the warmth of his tongue against your skin.

What did you even plan to say? You can’t remember.

Not with him so close. Not while he’s being so persistent with whatever he’s doing.

Your legs nearly buckle as his tongue finds your ear.

He drags you into his arms to keep you secure as he continues to tease your ear with his tongue. And once you’re in his arms, his hands don’t hesitate to begin their exploration. Nor do they explore you gently.

He nips the shell of your ear as his hands quite literally tear at your clothes so that they can access the unexplored flesh hidden beneath.

The noises that he coaxes out of you with his antics are absolutely shameful.

You still aren’t sure where all of this has come from, but for some reason, you don’t hate it. Even if you’re confused and nervous, you don’t hate what he’s doing.

Even as his claws nick your tender flesh and his teeth lightly pierce into your ear, you don’t hate what he’s doing.

“....” Eclipse suddenly murmurs your name into your ear as he nuzzles the side of your head.

You tremble in response.

His voice has gotten so raspy and intense. His arousal is beyond obvious just in his tone. And something about the way it sounds sends pleasant tingles rolling along your spine.

He wants you. His tone makes it obvious.

So does everything else he’s been doing for the past... God, how long has he been all over you like this? Time feels like it's standing still.

But he’s gotten you all riled up now and whatever happens next, you’re going to blame on him for acting like such a lust-stricken beast.

His actions prove infectious enough to make you abandon your inhibitions and pull him into a kiss.

With one swift motion you bring both of your hands to his face to hold him still while you turn your head, and you press your lips against his.

For a split second, Eclipse completely freezes.

The next thing you know, you’re being thrown onto the bed.

The very same bed that he spent his time resting in while you nursed him back to health. The stains from his blood still mark the unkempt bedding.

You stare up at him, completely bewildered, as he stares down at you in turn.

Intense.

His eyes are so intense, and hungry.

Everything about his body language screams danger; from his intense eyes to his almost predatory movements as he calmly steps closer to the bed.

You watch him peel off his own shirt before he crouches to climb onto the bed.

He crawls over top of you like a spider creeping in to devour a helpless fly.

You certainly feel helpless beneath him. And yet, somehow, you don’t feel as though you’re in any danger.

He could have done you serious harm at any point, if he wanted. And he still hasn’t. Which means, despite his visible hunger, he doesn’t actually mean to devour you like an animal.

But despite understanding that you’re probably not in any actual danger, you can’t help the fight or flight that kicks in once he comes to loom over you.

You’re confused. Scared. Aroused.

You don’t know what you’re trying to do or why you’re even trying to roll over and crawl out from under him. The adrenaline and all of these conflicting emotions are just making you react, and the only way that you can think to react is to try and escape. Even if you don’t actually intend to get away from him.

Eclipse responds in turn like an animal apprehending its prey.

His hands easily capture your small, laughably weak body. And once he has a good hold on you, he roughly pins you down atop the bed.

Your submissive mewling is muffled by the pillows as even your head is pressed down. Not enough to risk smothering you, but enough to establish that there’s no easy way to squirm out from under him.

You wrap your arms around the pillow instinctively, holding it tightly as if it will provide you some sense of stability as you wriggle about in his grasp.

Eclipse isn’t the only one acting like an animal right now.

In your squirming, you find yourself practically presenting yourself to him. He allows you to lift your hips and tuck your knees, and because that’s all that you can do, you do it.

You kneel under him like a bitch in heat and he practically mounts you like a dog. The only thing preventing him from actually claiming you is your clothes.

Yours and his, technically. He still has his pants on.

Not for long, though.

He tears apart the clothing that is keeping him from feeling you and your squirming body directly against his. You hear it and you feel it when he literally reduces your clothing to ribbons using his claws.

None too gently, at that.

Your skin stings, which makes it clear that he’s caught you with his talons again. But you don’t care.

You just whine pathetically into your pillow as you feel Eclipse pressing his fully exposed genitals against you.

You swear you feel two. They’re sliding between your thighs, threatening to invade you. But you can’t find the nerve to look back and see for yourself what he’s got going on between his legs.

“E-Eclipse!” You whine his name into the pillow as you feel him grinding against you.

Fuck, you’re so wet. If he felt like it, he could just slide right in and stretch you out without issue.

You gasp at the unexpected feeling of his mouth against the back of your neck.

He’s biting you. And for some reason, it burns.

It burns like…

You tentatively reach back to feel where his mouth is locked against your flesh. And in doing so, you burn the tips of your fingers on his scalding hot ichor.

“Eclipse?!” You whimper his name, admittedly bewildered, as the heat of his blood spreads throughout your body from the bite on the back of your neck.

You hear and feel him growl in response.

He keeps his teeth locked so long that the bite genuinely starts to become painful. Genuinely painful. His teeth pull free of you only when those first tears begin to roll down your cheeks; at which point he begins to lap at the sore wound in order to soothe it. But by then you’re meekly sniffling from the pain brought about by the intensity of the bite and the unpleasant sensation of his blood singing your wounded flesh.

The only real distraction that he can give you is the feel of his cock - er, cocks? - sliding into your waiting body.

You cannot help but cry out in response. The pain and the pleasure mix together, creating a sensation that genuinely overwhelms you as he claims you completely.

He moans like a beast as he invades your body.

You moan and you sob, clinging tightly to your pillow as you feel him stretch you to the brink of breaking.

Hot.

You feel hot. Especially around the back of your neck, and where his body invades yours.

Eclipse practically curls around you to hold you close as he animalistically ruts into you. He presses you so close to him that he can barely even rock his hips.

But whether he manages to slide an inch, or six inches, it still feels incredibly intense.

So much so that you can’t stop crying. Even though the pain is gone and your neck has stopped bothering you, you’re just so overwhelmed by it all that you cannot help but sob underneath him as he fucks you like a beast.

It feels good. But it feels too good.

So good that you have to grip the pillow until your knuckles turn white from the strain.

So good that you genuinely cannot tell how many times you’ve orgasmed before you feel an unexpected rush of heat as the Deity apparently reaches his climax.

His ejaculate is hot. Just like his blood, but not nearly as intense.

Your abdomen is left feeling incredibly warm after he spills his seed into you. Even from the outside, you can feel it when you press your hand against your abdomen in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure.

You feel so hot and full.

There’s so little space between your bodies that his seed has nowhere to go but inside. So your abdomen bloats ever so slightly from the excess fluid that has been pumped deep inside of you.

He bites you again mid-ejaculation.

You whine meekly as his teeth pierce your shoulder.

The one that was previously completely unharmed.

God, you’re covered in marks. From his teeth. From his claws. From the sheer strength of his grip.

Bite marks. Claw marks. Bruises.

You genuinely look as though you’ve just been attacked by an animal, and yet all that you can really focus on is the sensation in your abdomen as you feel his seed permeate your uterus.

Good Lord, he fucked you like he meant to breed you. And given the heat spreading through your insides, he very well might have.

Somehow he’s still hard.

You can feel him throbbing inside of you, now that he’s holding still.

You whimper again as you feel him start to nuzzle the crook of your neck. The last of your tears roll down your cheeks as you begin to hiccup uncontrollably, all of the emotions now catching up with you now that the intensity of the moment has passed.

Eclipse shushes you gently. Apologetically, even.

“I’m sorry...” He murmurs, moving to gently nuzzle your cheek as he shifts ever so slightly, coaxing another whine out of you unintentionally.

“Shh. It's okay.” He hums, adjusting you in his arms so that he can roll you over until you face him.

You then wrap your arms around him and cling to him tightly; even as you feel him slip out of you, along with a sudden gush of his seed.

Your cheeks flare with the embarrassment of the sensation. But he draws no attention to it, because his focus is entirely on comforting you.

“I was too rough with you. I’m sorry.” He murmurs, continuing to apologize even as he rolls over so that you can lay on top of him.

For a few moments, he seems content to just hold you. Until suddenly his arms shift so that he can hoist you off of him.

Initially, you try to resist him. And at first, he allows it. But after a few seconds, he gets very persistent with his movements and you have no choice but to obey him.

“Let me see.” He requests, establishing that he wants to see what he’s done to you.

You whine, mostly in protest, and partly in embarrassment as he proceeds to sit you upright on top of him. Then you shudder as your recently demolished, still overly sensitive genitals come into contact with his bare abdomen.

His skin is so cold. It feels strangely pleasant against your nethers. Soothing, in a way. Like a rush of cool water on a burn.

You cannot help but awkwardly roll your hips.

Despite the stimulation that the friction brings, the soothing chill of his skin is worth it. Though you fail to properly take into consideration that Eclipse can see what you’re doing. And what you’re doing is basically humping his chiseled abdominal muscles like an untrained animal. Not that he seems to mind, given that his hands are on your hips, and he could stop you at any moment.

He does not want to stop you, though.

If you had bothered to stop and pay attention, you would be able to take in his expression. You would see the intense desire in his half-lidded eyes. You would see how he has to fight the urge to arch his back against you as you shamelessly grind against him. You would see the faint curl of his lips and the pleasured snarl that he gives you with each motion. A pleasured snarl that remains silent only because he somehow finds the strength of will to keep from moaning underneath you.

You become aware of his heavy stare only when he finally tightens his hold on your hips to force you to keep your body still. At which point you realize what exactly you’ve been doing, and you hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment.

“I am” Eclipse groans, his hands now shaking as he trails them down your hips to your thighs “I am trying to be gentle, with you!”. He practically scolds you as he coaxes your hips up off of his abdomen; which has now been heavily smeared with a mixture of your own arousal and his spent ejaculate.

“Have you any idea how hard it is to control myself, with you throwing yourself at me like this?!” He asks, though his tone is anything but accusatory.

He sounds excited, to say the least. And you know that it must be your fault, given the little show you just put on for him.

You struggle to fight back a needy moan as he guides your hips back so that he can bring you down to his pelvis.

You can see how strange his anatomy is now. He really does have two penises. But they are not shaped like anything a human has ever had. They are long, and striking in their color. Fiery orange. They stand out as a sharp contrast against his ebony skin.

No wonder they feel so hot. With a color like that, how could they possibly be made from anything but flame?

You watch, literally trembling with anticipation, as the two tendrils coil around each other like snakes.

Did you really take both of these, before? Skies above; they were huge! And when wrapped around each other like they were now, their combined base must have been as thick as your arm!

“Say that you want me!” Eclipse commands, holding you so that you hover over his writhing mass of arousal. You’re kept high enough that he cannot slip into you, but low enough that you can feel the two tips greedily reaching out to explore your sensitive flesh.

He even forces you to lean slightly so that he can specifically tease your clitoris with his bizarre phalluses, stimulating your further and coaxing dramatic sound from your trembling lips.

“I-I wh-?!” You try to question him, only to be distracted by the teasing stimulation.

Fuck. You want him! Of course you want him! You would have sobbed and begged him to stop if you had not wanted him to mount you earlier! So why does he care about consent now, when he’s already marked your womb with his divine seed?!

“I claimed you once already, while my mind was gone. Nngh - I-I want to hear it from your lips! Tell me. Gift yourself to me, and become mine completely, while I still have this moment of sanity!” He commands again, giving you more thorough details this time around.

He seems to be struggling to maintain his composure. You can see it in his face, as you gaze down at him.

Come to think of it, you saw it earlier as well. Back when this little confrontation first began, and it took place right up until you kissed him.

Eclipse is battling with a part of himself. A part that desperately wants to just take you and claim you as his. A part of him that is likely governed by the beastly instincts of the Vampiric curse; the part of him that contains the monster that he could become if his bloodlust goes unquenched.

The other part of him; the part that is currently in control, the part that houses his humanity; it wants to make sure that you’re alright with this.

He wants you to be his. Both sides; the God and the Vampire. But one side will take you without your consent, whereas the other desperately wants to give you the right to choose.

You tremble as you stare down at him.

You really are messed up, aren’t you? To be turned on by the idea of being claimed by a God; with or without the right to turn him down; is absolutely abhorrent.

But you don’t care how wrong it is to want this, or to want to be made his property.

He is kind.

Despite everything; he is kind. He has shown you more human compassion in his brief stay here than you have received from the actual humans that live here.

And you have shown him more compassion and understanding than any other human that he has had the chance to meet. That is likely why he has grown so fixated on you in the first place. You embody everything he has longed for since he was stripped of his humanity, and he is not willing to let the opportunity satiate his desires slip past his fingers.

You hold just as much power over him as he has over you. Maybe not in the literal sense, but still.

“I-I-” You whine, struggling to find your words as you desperately try to lower yourself down onto him.

“I-I” He relaxes his grip, allowing you to sink down onto him of your own free will “I want you!” you finally blurt out.

Eclipse responds in turn by pulling you down onto him completely. He mercilessly reclaims your body, coaxing a strangely relieved moan out of you as you feel him stretch you out again.

The heat is back. Intense and addictive.

The God uses his hold on your hips to guide you as you begin to ride him. His other hands move elsewhere to support your body as you move.

One hand tangles with yours while the other cups your face.

His thumb slips into your open mouth. You feel it hold down your tongue; which makes your moans appear so much louder than before.

“You are mine!” Eclipse practically snarls these words as he maintains unwavering eye contact with you.

“No one else may have you! No one else may do so much as touch you! Or I will show them how monstrous I can be!” He states, grunting between every word as you bounce relentlessly on top of him.

Droll dribbles down your cheek and tears of pleasure well in your eyes as you become overwhelmed by the sensations once more, but you cannot help but bounce your hips.

This is all your doing. You’re the one riding him. You’re the one moaning like a whore as you feel his heated lengths impale your womanhood time and time again.

You’re the one offering yourself to him as a willing sacrifice. One that is meant to be treasured, rather than slaughtered.

“After this, I must go... I have duties to attend to.” He groans, obviously fighting back his orgasm in a desperate pursuit of dragging out these last few moments by your side.

“But I-” He groans, arching his back and trembling as the pleasure nearly overwhelms him “I will return!” He promises.

You gasp as he pulls you down completely onto him, stretching you to the brink of breaking as he ejaculates once more. You’re made to take every drop of his seed while he holds you completely still to prevent anything from spilling.

You moan, practically broken mentally from the pleasure, as you watch your abdomen bloat from the internal pressure.

“When-” He pants “When the bite on your neck fades, I will return to mark you again.” He promises, sitting up so that he can claim your lips in a rough and dominating kiss.

You moan sweetly into his mouth as he tangles his tongues with yours, devouring your pleasure with his kiss.

By the time your brain registers the sensation of him slipping out of you, he’s already gone. Long, long gone.

Your mind completely blanked out at some point during the kiss. What would have been a couple hours of aftercare have become nothing but a foggy dream in the back of your mind. But you can remember the feel of his embrace as he ushered you off into sleep, promising to return for you before the bite on your neck could heal completely.

Your cheeks flush faintly as you reach up to brush your fingers against the mark on the back of your neck. Though it is sore, knowing that you have it makes your stomach feel all fluttery.

You do not know for certain if this is a mark of love. It is too early to say for certain what it truly means to be claimed by a God.

But you know that Eclipse treasures you like he treasures nothing else upon this Earth. And that alone is enough to give you those same lovestruck butterflies that anyone else might feel in those moments where they first catch feelings.

And honestly, just knowing that you’re cared for is enough. At least for now.

#Vampire!Eclipse #Eclipse x Reader #not osha approved #Possessive Eclipse #female reader

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miniscrew-anon · 2 years

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HSH Febuwhump Day 28 - “You’re Safe Now”

I wanted to end it on a sappy note so that’s what you’re getting.

-----

Time walks the perimeter of the first floor, hands stuffed into his pockets to keep the frost nip at bay. His hair is still damp from his shower and he wishes this coat had a hood because he was starting to feel his hair stiffen from the cold.

He stops in the foyer and makes sure the door is locked. The winter winds blow fiercely at the windows, howling of the wind audible even inside. The trees on the street bend and creak ominously as the storm pushes against them. The conditions are nearly whiteout as snow continues to pile up, two feet deep already. Down the block, Time can just barely see the downed electrical pole that robbed the house of electricity. No one is going to be fixing it tonight.

The house is cavernous and cold without the heating. There’s frost on the windows facing the wind and it’s already too cold inside to be without a proper jacket.

But there is a place in the heart of the house that is warm and inviting.

Time sighs with relief as he enters the living room, letting the thick layer of fabric curtains separating that room from the rest of the house fall back into place behind him. The soft glow from the fire is the only light source.

All the boys have gathered in the living room to curl up around the fireplace. Earlier, Four and Sky had put up some sheets over the doorways and windows to act as insulation to keep the heat in. And Twilight and Warriors braved the whipping winds to bring a small stockpile of logs in just before the storm got really bad. The boys held a wood chopping contest in the garage and now they have enough fuel to keep the fire burning all month long if they need to.

The room is not just warm, either. The boys were fast at work earlier in the day to prepare for the coming snow storm. There is an emergency bag in the corner of the room stock full of essentials - water, canned food, flashlights, flares, first aid supplies, batteries and a radio. It’s accessible but has been tucked out of sight by the other things the boys deemed as essential.

A small charging station was set up on a folding table, connected to the generator out in the garage. There are a few outlets for phones (and a strict timetable for who’s phone gets charged when taped to the top of it), as well as an electric griddle for tomorrow's breakfast. There is a small tea and coffee station set up with some freshly baked goods placed under a delicate glass countertop case. Non-perishable snacks and a few jugs of water are neatly balanced under the table.

The room is stuffed full of things to pass the time, too. A pile of books from Four’s collection. Some of those plastic speed stack cups that Wind’s been obsessed with. A nice pack of cards and chips from Warriors and weighty metal dice that Time has seen Legend break out before. A small collection of board games from Sky and a thousand-piece puzzle that’s probably missing pieces. There’s nail gels and Wild’s makeup bag. Twilight’s set up a dartboard on the wall and there’s a supply of bottles and mixing cups. There is a pile of canvases with paint and books of landscapes from Hyrule, not a medical textbook in sight.

Blankets, pillows and cushions lay on nearly every surface except for a winding path of bare floor to allow movement between the lumps of sleeping boys, all bundled in their warmest pajamas. Warriors claimed a couch for himself, leaving Twilight to get the recliner. Wind and Four have taken the prime real estate right in front of the fire as the most coldblooded of the boys. Wild and Sky are further from the fire but are cuddled together inside of Sky’s comfy. Legend and Hyrule dragged down one of their mattresses and are verifiably buried under a pile of Legend’s making. There is another couch and a thick comforter stolen from Time’s bed waiting for him.

He ignores it for now and carefully steps over slumbering bodies to add more fuel to the fire. As he pokes at the logs to keep the fire breathing, his eyes go to the picture frame on the mantle. It’s nice. But lonely. Perhaps he’ll find the time to take some for himself. He does have that old camera laying around somewhere.

He exhales, heat on his face no contest to the warmth growing within. He’s not worried about intruders on a night like this. And there are no dark corners for his ghosts to haunt nor shadows for his nightmares to lurk. His boys are all in view, comfortable and safe from the cold.

It’s quiet now. But tomorrow is sure to bring chaos when the boys inevitably get cabin fever from being trapped in close quarters for hours. Arguments and headaches and exasperated faces loom over the horizon, but Time can’t help the smile that grows on his face. Because the house will be messy and crowded and loud.

And his home will be all the warmer for it.

----

My brain while I was writing: ~The weather outside is frightful, but the fire is sooooo delightful~ on repeat for the entire time

Omg guys I did it! Almost 24 thousand words, making this my longest fic to date! Wow I can’t actually believe I did it. I honestly did not have faith in my ability to write every day. But this just goes to show that if you love your blorbos enough - you can do anything!

Thanks for reading and for all the nice comments! All your nice words make me puddle into goo when I read them and it makes me so happy you guys enjoyed reading about as much as I enjoyed writing!

#hsh au #townhouse au #St0rmyverse #febuwhump 2023 #hsh Time #omg im so tired #but proud

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coralsublimetimemachine · 4 days

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HDPE Bags: The Best HDPE Bags Wholesale Online

High-density polyethylene (HDPE) bags have become a staple in various industries due to their durability, versatility, and cost-effectiveness. Available in multiple sizes and thicknesses, these bags serve a wide range of applications, from packaging food and agricultural products to chemicals and construction materials. This article will dive into the benefits, features, and manufacturing processes of HDPE bags, while also shedding light on the best wholesale options available online for businesses and suppliers.

What Are HDPE Bags?

HDPE (High-Density Polyethylene) bags are made from a robust plastic material that is highly resistant to chemicals, moisture, and physical damage. This makes them perfect for packaging heavy-duty products such as grains, fertilizers, and chemicals. HDPE bags 50 kg variants are particularly popular for industrial use, as they provide enough strength to hold substantial quantities while maintaining their structural integrity.

HDPE bags come in a variety of sizes, and one of the most commonly sought-after capacities is the 50 kg HDPE bag, which is widely used in agriculture, construction, and bulk food storage. These bags offer an excellent balance between strength, durability, and affordability, making them a go-to solution for many industries.

The Benefits of HDPE Bags

HDPE bags offer several benefits over other types of packaging materials, such as paper or lower-grade plastics. Some of the key advantages include:

Strength and Durability: HDPE bags are exceptionally strong and can withstand heavy loads without tearing or breaking. This makes them ideal for packaging bulk items such as grains, fertilizers, and construction materials.

Chemical Resistance: HDPE is resistant to many acids, chemicals, and solvents, ensuring that the contents of the bag remain uncontaminated and safe.

Moisture Resistance: Unlike paper or fabric bags, HDPE bags do not absorb water, making them suitable for storing moisture-sensitive products.

Eco-friendly Options: Many manufacturers now offer recyclable and eco-friendly HDPE bags, aligning with global environmental sustainability efforts.

Cost-Effective: Given their durability and reusability, HDPE bags often prove to be more cost-effective in the long run compared to other materials.

HDPE Bags Manufacturing Process

The HDPE bags manufacturing process is a highly technical one that involves several stages of production. It begins with the polymerization of ethylene gas, which forms polyethylene resin. This resin is then melted and extruded into sheets of HDPE film, which are then cut and shaped into bags.

Once the material has been shaped into bags, they undergo additional processes such as heat-sealing, printing, and lamination to enhance durability and functionality. High-tech machinery and strict quality controls ensure that the bags produced meet stringent industry standards.

Popular Uses of HDPE Bags

HDPE bags serve a variety of uses in different industries, and their adaptability makes them a popular choice for packaging bulk items. Some common applications include:

Agricultural Packaging: HDPE bags 50 kg are widely used in agriculture to store grains, seeds, and fertilizers. The bags’ moisture resistance and durability make them ideal for long-term storage and transport.

Chemical and Fertilizer Packaging: HDPE bags are often employed to package chemicals and fertilizers because of their resistance to chemical degradation and their ability to hold heavy loads.

Construction Material Storage: In the construction industry, 50 kg HDPE bags are frequently used to store and transport materials like cement, sand, and gravel. Their strength ensures they won’t easily tear under heavy weights.

Food and Beverage Industry: These bags are also used for packaging large quantities of dry food items like rice, wheat, and flour. HDPE’s food-safe properties make it an ideal choice for this purpose.

HDPE Bags Price in India

When sourcing HDPE bags, particularly in large quantities for industrial or commercial purposes, understanding the HDPE bags price in India is crucial. Prices of HDPE bags can vary based on factors such as the size of the bag, thickness of the material, and any additional features like lamination or printing.

Typically, the price of HDPE bags 50 kg in India ranges from INR 15 to INR 50 per bag, depending on the quality and the supplier. Buying in bulk can significantly lower the price per bag, making it more economical for businesses to purchase wholesale. The 50 kg HDPE bag is especially in demand due to its ability to handle large quantities of material.

How to Choose the Best HDPE Bags Wholesale Online

Choosing the right HDPE bags supplier is crucial for ensuring that you get a high-quality product at a competitive price. When sourcing HDPE bags wholesale online, consider the following factors:

Reputation of the Supplier: Always opt for a reputable supplier who has positive reviews and a proven track record. A good supplier will offer not only competitive prices but also excellent customer service and timely delivery.

Product Range: Look for suppliers who offer a wide variety of HDPE bags in different sizes and thicknesses. This ensures you can find the right bag for your specific needs.

Customization Options: Some suppliers offer customizable bags with printing and branding options. This is especially beneficial for businesses looking to increase brand visibility.

Quality Control: Ensure that the supplier adheres to stringent quality control measures during the HDPE bags manufacturing process. This guarantees that the bags you receive are durable and meet industry standards.

Competitive Pricing: Compare prices across different suppliers to ensure that you're getting the best deal. Buying in bulk can significantly reduce costs, so look for suppliers offering wholesale rates.

Conclusion

HDPE bags are indispensable for many industries due to their strength, versatility, and cost-effectiveness. Whether you're in agriculture, construction, or the food industry, sourcing high-quality HDPE bags wholesale online can ensure that your packaging needs are met efficiently and economically. By understanding the HDPE bags manufacturing process, uses, and pricing, you can make informed decisions when purchasing the best HDPE bags for your business.

Frequently Asked Questions About HDPE Bags

1. What are HDPE bags used for?

HDPE bags are used for packaging a wide range of products, including agricultural goods like grains and fertilizers, construction materials such as sand and cement, and food products like rice and flour.

2. How are HDPE bags manufactured?

The HDPE bags manufacturing process involves the polymerization of ethylene gas to form polyethylene resin. This resin is then melted, extruded into sheets, and formed into bags through heat sealing and cutting.

3. What is the price of HDPE bags in India?

The HDPE Bags price in India varies based on size, quality, and features. On average, a 50 kg HDPE bag can range from INR 15 to INR 50 per bag. Bulk purchases can lead to more competitive pricing.

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shasanpiping · 22 days

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Alloy Steel WP9 Buttweld Fittings Stockists in Mumbai

Alloy Steel WP9 Buttweld Fittings Manufacturers in Mumbai,Supplier In Mumbai,Stocklist In Mumbai,Exporter in Mumbai

Introduction:- Alloy Steel WP9 Buttweld Fittings Manufacturers in Mumbai

Mumbai, as a major industrial hub in India, is home to numerous manufacturers specializing in high-quality alloy steel buttweld fittings. Alloy Steel WP9 is particularly notable for its excellent performance in high-temperature and high-pressure environments, making it a popular choice for industries such as oil and gas, power generation, and petrochemicals.

Manufacturers in Mumbai offer a wide range of WP9 buttweld fittings, including elbows, tees, reducers, and caps, which are designed to provide robust and reliable connections in piping systems. These fittings are manufactured according to stringent industry standards and specifications to ensure durability and performance.

Product Overview:-

Shasan Piping Solution is a famous trader, manufacturer and exporter of WP9 Alloy Steel Pipe Fittings. This fitting should only be used with nitric acid solutions up to 0.5% concentration at room temperature. The proportion of these WP9 angle butt welded alloy steel pipe fittings increases as the sulfur dioxide content in the atmosphere increases (such as can occur in industrial areas).

In pure, air-free acids, the corrosion rate of alloy steel WP9 Equal Tee is low at all concentrations and ambient temperatures. At high temperatures or concentrated solutions, the speed of these WP9 alloy steel cross-butt weld pipe fittings is usually too high for sufficient service life. Salts in the alloy steel WP9 reducer can form when hydrochloric acid comes into contact with iron or copper. This is because these WP9 alloy steel stubs have a lower tendency for harmful intermetallic phases to precipitate, resulting in higher ductility than other alloys during and after various temperature cycling conditions.

Specifications:-

Alloy Steel WP9 Pipe Fittings Specifications

Specifications

ASTM A234 / ASME SA234

Size

1/8” NB TO 48” NB. (Seamless & 100% X-Ray Welded, Fabricated)

Standards

ASME/ANSI B16.9, ASME B16.28, MSS-SP-43

Thickness

Sch 5s, Sch 10s, Sch 40s, Sch 80s, Sch 160s, Sch XXS

Type

Seamless / Welded / Fabricated

Benefits:-

WP9 Alloy Steel End Cap Butt Weld Pipe Fittings can be welded using all common welding techniques, but oxy-fuel welding and submerged arc welding processes are recommended if the manufactured product will be used in a corrosive environment It will not be. For these WP9 alloy steel disc cap butt weld pipe fittings, special precautions must be taken to avoid excessive heat input.

Conclusions:-

Mumbai's thriving industrial sector and well-established infrastructure make it a key location for sourcing Alloy Steel WP9 Buttweld Fittings, with several reputable manufacturers offering top-notch products and services.

Look for manufacturers who comply with international standards and possess relevant certifications, such as ISO 9001, to guarantee product quality.

Email Id :- [email protected] Contact No:- 88879709191

#manufacturers

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jaysteels · 5 months

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Monel 400, k500 Strips, Sheets & plates Supplier & Exporter in india

Monel alloys, a circle of relatives of nickel-copper alloys, have earned a popularity for exquisite electricity, corrosion resistance, and high-temperature performance. They are the workhorses of diverse industries, locating programs in tough environments like marine engineering, chemical processing, and oil and fuel. This weblog explores Monel K500 and Monel 400 strips, sheets, and plates, highlighting distinguished suppliers in India and their numerous programs.

Understanding Monel Alloys: 400 vs. K500

There are two number one Monel grades relevant to strips, sheets, and plates:

Monel 400 (UNS N04400): This widely used grade offers brilliant corrosion resistance, excellent formability, and high power. It's the pass-to choice for a massive array of programs.

Monel K500 (UNS N05500): This precipitation-hardening grade boasts even higher energy than Monel 400, accomplished through warmness treatment. It's perfect for packages requiring extremely good power and wear resistance.

Both Monel four hundred and K500 are to be had in diverse forms, along with:

Strips: Thin, elongated sections with a rectangular go-section, suitable for forming and bending applications.

Sheets: Flat, square shapes with a rather uniform thickness, used for fabrication and cladding.

Plates: Thicker and larger flat sections as compared to sheets, best for high-pressure vessels and structural components.

Applications of Monel Alloy Strips, Sheets and Plates

The unique properties of Monel alloys lead them to a favored choice throughout several industries in India. Here are a few distinguished programs:

Chemical Processing: Monel's remarkable resistance to diverse chemical compounds like hydrochloric acid and sulfuric acid makes it ideal for tanks, vessels, piping structures, and warmth exchangers.

Marine Engineering: Seawater's corrosive nature isn't any suit for Monel. Ships' hulls, desalination flowers, offshore oil rigs, and heat exchangers all take advantage of Monel's homes.

Oil and Gas Industry: Piping systems, wellheads, and processing gadgets handling harsh chemical compounds and high temperatures rely on Monel's power and corrosion resistance.

Power Generation: Heat exchangers, condensers, and other additives uncovered to excessive temperatures and corrosive environments find Monel to be a dependable answer.

Aerospace: Specific Monel grades are utilized in a few aerospace programs because of their strength and excessive-temperature overall performance.

Finding Reliable Suppliers: Monel Alloy Products Supplier and Exporter in India

When sourcing Monel alloy strips, sheets, and plates in India, partnering with a truthful dealer is important. Here are some key issues:

Product Quality: Ensure the dealer adheres to identified standards like ASTM or ASME, guaranteeing the material's overall performance and reliability.

Product Availability: Choose a provider supplying a variety of sizes, thicknesses, and grades of Monel products to cater to your unique task needs.

Experience and Expertise: Partnering with a supplier with experience in Monel alloys guarantees they can provide technical steering and assist all through the selection and alertness technique.

Competitive Pricing: Compare prices across unique suppliers to secure the pleasant cost for your undertaking.

Jay Steel Corporation: Your Partner in Monel Alloy Solutions

At Jay Steel Corporation, we're a prominent producer, supplier, and exporter of Monel alloy merchandise in India. We are committed to presenting fantastic Monel 400 and K500 strips, sheets, and plates that meet stringent international requirements. Our giant inventory guarantees we have the proper length, thickness, and grade for your undertaking necessities.

In addition to Monel alloys, we provide a complete range of nickel alloys, along with:

Inconel Alloy Plates: These nickel-chromium alloys offer top notch excessive-temperature overall performance for traumatic programs.

Hastelloy Alloys: These high-performance alloys are perfect for environments with severe temperatures and harsh chemical substances.

We apprehend the significance of patron pride and provide super technical assistance to help you choose the maximum appropriate nickel alloy to your project. Whether you require Monel 400 strips for a chemical processing software or Monel K500 plates for a high-pressure vessel, Jay Steel Corporation is your one-stop store for all your Monel alloy wishes in India.

#Inconel Alloy Plates #Monel Alloy Products Supplier and Exporter in India

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softeningmyheart · 5 months

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Occultism & Chaos Magick Through the Lens of Islamic Teachings: True, but False.

As I go on this journey to learn about Islam, I'm finding something very interesting about the entire framework of how Islam approaches the unseen.

Full disclosure, I am a former pagan, former occultist, and former chaos magician. Practicing, by the way, not just your typical crystal girlie. I was in the muck. And coming out of the muck, its interesting how everything I ever learned about spirituality before Islam fits into Islam, one way or another. Not the doctrine or the perspectives mind you, but the actions and the results. It fits in a way that it simply does not fit into secularism or any other religious practice I have seen.

Chaos magick for instance, also known as results-based magick, the secular world says "No it is fake, what you saw and what you heard never happened, the story you lived is false. All your results were just one big crazy coincidence. Let us gaslight you and talk down to you until you change your story to fit OUR narrow view of reality." But that perspective is no less crazy than believing in magick in a secular world! I'm not only talking about atheism either. I'm talking about academic perspectives, cultural perspectives, I'm even talking about lukewarm Christianity and how they perceive it. If its not their narrow idea of what the non-physical can be, tightly wrapped up in a little box like they personally expect, then it is made up.

But what is rational about any of that? Ignoring your eyes and ears for the sake of books written by ordinary men with ordinary weaknesses and shortcomings? It's senseless. No ordinary human being should ever be worshiped. Human beings are made weak. We cannot handle the burden of being worshiped the way Allah can. That is one of Allah's gift to us in my opinion, that He takes on that responsibility because He knows it would only break us to put it all upon ourselves, but I digress.

Think of it like this: you don't watch the boiling pot on the stove turn bones and water into chicken stock and think "Oh, it's a coincidence that there's chicken stock here now, the bones and water and heat did nothing. Our books say nothing about this, so it cannot be." If someone said that to you after you cooked dinner, you wouldn't throw out your broth. You wouldn't restart dinner to fit their views. You would, rightly, roll your eyes and tell them to read a new book! And then they have the nerve to act like something is wrong with you while you're in the thick of the work they insist isn't happening.

Islam is the first doctrine I've seen that doesn't even attempt such nonsense. Islam tells me "Yes it is real, but it is a farse. A fabrication. It is a twisted imitation of the power of Allah and that is why all you put out always comes back to hurt you no matter how good your intentions. These forces will only turn your desires against you. Allah is the real source of power and change," and that is a much more sensible reaction to the reality of the situation in my opinion.

You can't tell me, if you saw a lightning bolt shoot down from the sky in response to your actions calling for such, that you would turn away and say "Bah, a coincidence." How many coincidences am I supposed to have then? Am I a lightning rod? A superconductor? If that's the case, I should be studied for my electrical properties! But I think we all know that if you hooked me up to an amp reader, you'd find nothing out of the ordinary. I'm only a normal human being.

Islam doesn't tell you "Do not worry" it tells you "Give your worries to Allah." and that is far more beautiful and far more practical than a bunch of self-absorbed academics who worship other self-absorbed academics telling you to just pretend it didn't happen. You will not heal most people in need if your approach is to just take drugs as a first resort rather than a last resort, pay $200 a week to have a stranger gaslight you over a life they will never live, and then institutionalize them if they get worse instead of better.

And why would they get better? You have told them it is all up to them, that they must be strong, that they must rely on nobody but themselves even if they are at their weakest, that they must emerge from this stronger than before, that they must deny their own eyes and ears, that there is no point beyond themselves and no purpose beyond chasing their own desires. Who wouldn't get worse hearing that? That's awful. You are sabotaged, and then punished again when their actions break you down even more. The pressure that secular psychology puts on people is absolutely insane. That is why I now believe Allah is far more merciful than secularism or occultism.

And that is not to talk badly of therapy or medicine as a whole. When done right they are good and necessary, but that is not what secular medicine actually provides most of the time and it is a shame. I'm just thankful that the word of the prophets is not only in existence but free.

Islam is as merciful as Allah. Islam tells me that I don't need to spend money I don't have and put myself into debt to receive wisdom and be guided toward healing, and toward results. Good results. Results that will bring me the peace that occult practices never could, or would even if they could, because that was never what Satan intended for any of us. Satan is real, and he is selfish, and he is clever. Satan is a lot like the idea of a genie in popular media, or a monkey's paw. Wicked spirits will give you exactly what you ask for, and it will be your ruin. Your desires are taken and used against you, and you are powerless to stop it without help. Allah is all knowing, and all merciful. Allah gives you what is best for you, even if you don't know it's what you want yet. Even in the thick of such sinful things, Allah is waiting for us to realize the truth and trust Him again, so he can truly help us.

That is why Allah will not tell me my eyes and ears are wrong because some random upper class western men from the 1800s and 1900s all said so. Rather than being told to suppress, and ignore, and dismiss myself as a credible witness, I am told instead to have patience in my heart and turn my gaze in the right direction. It's not that my experiences are a farce, it's the path I've been led onto that is a farce. Allah is the key and the answer, and He asks nothing of me in return but faith and patience. Alhamdulillah for that.

#alhamdulillah #muslim revert #revert journey #chaos magick #occult #occultism #magick #left hand path #thoughts #long post

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moomitheartist · 7 months

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-The Holes in My Skin-

Beep! Beep! Beep! My alarm clock rang out, the shock jerking me awake like the shrill shriek of an unexpected fire drill; I groaned and shifted myself into a sitting position as I groggily reached out to turn the nuisance of a wake up call off, rubbing my numb face with my free hand to lessen the fatigue that never failed to cloud over my mornings.

“Shit,” I muttered when the bothersome screaming finally ceased, willing myself up out of my warm, cozy bed and into the freezing atmosphere of my dim room. I shivered as I felt the bare soles of my feet make the undesired but necessary contact with the ice-cold wooden floor, trying my best not to knock over furniture while stumbling through my chambers and towards the expectant door.

I could smell a strange scent around me as I grew more aware and awake, which was similar to the sizzling, oily odor of ruined bacon frying in a moldy pan. If my parents were cooking downstairs, I would gladly eat whatever they prepared, ruined meat or not; it was a more than welcome change from the soggy peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches that I had to force down every single morning.

“6AM is too damn early,” I sighed, stretching out an arm to angrily yank the steel door knob open and allow a blast of icy air to travel through my goosebump-covered body; no matter how much I increased the heating on the thermostat, the winter air always somehow managed to sneak into my home. The sensation of soft, squishy carpet was a welcome feeling and a convenient change from the hard faux tiles of my room.

I stomped heavily down the stairs to reach the lower level’s bathroom and change into my stiff, uncomfortable uniform- and ridiculous, ugly skirt. The boys were so lucky to be able to wear some functional trousers instead of that debilitating excuse of an article of clothing… It was probably because of the constant wearing of that irritating fabric that I felt an annoying itchiness from the moment I sat up in bed.

I sighed in envy when I entered the bathroom and temporarily heard the snoring of my parents next door, having one hell of a time in dreamland while I had to walk 20 minutes to my school in the freezing winds of the wintertime- however, I was also mildly confused about the source of that unpleasant smell if it wasn’t caused by cooking. After a few minutes I finished brushing my teeth, washing my face, and was all changed into the uniform that awaited me on the clothing rack near the shower.

I yawned for the fifth time this miserable morning, scratched at my strangely painful skin, and walked over to look into the mirror to see if I looked presentable; I flicked on the bright light to see myself, wincing at the sharp pain behind my eyes at the strong and instant illumination. That’s when I noticed the holes. The quarter-sized things were everywhere on my body: my cheeks, forehead, neck, torso, arms, legs; everywhere that was currently visible. The moment I saw them on my face, I screamed and ripped off all my clothes until only my undergarments remained; now that I knew of their presence, the itching grew even more intolerable to the point where I was furiously scratching at every inch of my body as I continued to shriek in horror.

The holes glistened with coats of milky yellow, thick, dripping pus that leaked out of the dark cavities. As I looked longer, I noticed that the craters were not empty- there were strange greenish-brown chunks of slimy, fleshy things that had the appearance of ground, bunched up rotten meat. They squelched and exploded even more sticky fluid as my nails tore into them, crusting over my fingers as it dried; the irritation grew worse and worse as the pus crusted over the fresh, raw scabs caused by my persistent scratching.

I cried out in pain as I dug into one of the sore holes with my thumb and forefinger, pulling out one of the squishy and warm objects and throwing it to the ground where it then exploded into a pool of thick, slimy pus. I barely registered the banging on the door and my parents’ panicked calls begging me to unlock the door over my erratic sobs and squeals. I grabbed a pair of tweezers from the sink drawer and reached into another hole to remove the pulsating, painful chunk from my skin; over and over and over again, reaching into every crater and yanking out the unnatural fleshy objects, flinging them to the ground in an explosion of dense, stinking fluid.

I scratched and ripped at my body with my other hand desperately, trying to relieve myself from the worsening and unbearable sensation of things embedded in my epidermis- I didn’t even notice the pus squirting all over my face and into my mouth, but I wondered what the salty, viscous, bitter liquid coating my taste buds was- however, all I truly felt in that moment was the agonizing itchiness which triumphed over all my other senses and thoughts.

At that moment, my parents managed to break in the door and I heard them scream in shock as they saw my body, or rather what used to be my body. Before I felt them subdue me, I reached up and dug my crusted, broken nails into my face to rip out the things inside my pulsing, hot holes, causing an even larger amount of pus to pool into my gaping mouth and down my throat. In my blind act of insanity I tore into my flesh, getting closer and closer to my eye sockets, finally reaching them before a sudden darkness overtook my blurred vision.

Strong hands grasped my flailing arms and my mom screamed, “Her eyeballs! Her eyeballs! She ripped out her eyeballs!” She must have been right, as I felt two warm, gelatinous circlets drop from my hand and hit the ground with a wet thud. That’s the last sound I registered before I felt myself black out and fall into a long, dreamless state of emptiness. …

“We don’t know what happened, doctor.” “I just woke up to her screaming in the bathroom, and when we finally got in she was… like this.” “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Burns, I’m very sorry to say that I believe Adrianna had a mental breakdown of some kind. These sorts of things happen to highschoolers who experience prominent amounts of stress, but I must say that this case is something else entirely; the amount of violence that she inflicted upon her own body isn’t something that would happen from a regular breakdown. I’m sorry to ask this, but does your daughter have any history of mental illness? Any prescriptions, abuse of drugs?”

I groaned as a pounding pain suddenly exploded in my skull- particularly around my eyes. Why was it so dark? I was unable to see anything, there was only an endless void of black. Why did my eyes hurt so much? “Adrianna?! She’s awake, doctor, look! She’s moving!” “She’s most likely extremely groggy and is suffering from some memory loss; the painkillers will make her mind quite foggy for a while,” came an offhand remark from nearby my bed. I felt a warm palm being pressed to my cheek, and mumbled out a rather incoherent word. “Mom?”

“Yes, honey, I’m here!”

“I can’t see…”

A muffled sob sounded from somewhere above me, and I felt a few drops of hot liquid drop onto my cold, sore cheeks. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to… soon. I promise.” There was a strange, awkward silence that was only occasionally broken by tearful cries from my mother. I didn’t understand why she was so upset if I would be able to see soon. Then, I remembered what happened to me- the holes.

The pus, the pain, the greenish-brown things that exploded. I began hyperventilating as my skin started to crawl and phantom insect legs wiggled around under my skin and thick, slimy pus filled my mouth once again- “The holes! The holes are on me! Get it off, get it off, get it off! It’s itchy! It hurts so much, please!”

“Honey, calm down, I’m begging you! You’ll hurt yourself!”

I heard my dad’s rough yet worried voice demanding an explanation. “What holes, Adrianna?! There’s nothing on you!” I screamed out as I felt the agonizing, crusty irritation burrowing deeper into my skin and through my organs, that disgusting yellow liquid drenching my pillow and drying into a scratchy layer on my burning face; the wet pops and squelches were deafening and maddening. Bile clawed at my throat and I began choking as I regurgitated the large amount of pus that I had swallowed and inhaled.

“She’s suffocating, lift her up!” A firm pair of large hands grabbed my shoulders, allowing the sour liquid to pour past my flaky lips like a filthy dam that hadn’t been used in decades, allowing all contents to fester and marinate. I felt the hot, chunky liquid splash into my lap and gagged at the nauseatingly bitter flavor coating my whole mouth and dripping down my throat, into my shirt. “Jesus Christ.” “Mr. and Mrs. Burns, I’ll have to sedate her. She’s panicking so much that I’m afraid she’ll hurt herself.” More sobs. A sharp pain in my vomit-covered arm. Then, pure nothingness once again. …

Mr. Burns placed his head into his palms as he hunched over in the uncomfortable hospital seat, praying that he could hold in his tears for a little bit longer. Dr. Harrison sighed in disappointment while flipping through his medical report on Adrianna, which showed little promise to her healing in the current state she was in. Adrianna Burns’ mother silently cried in the chair beside her husband, her sleeping daughter’s form always in her peripheral vision. “Your daughter is very ill; I believe her mental state is in critical condition, judging by her delusions of ‘holes’ in her skin… for now, we must continue keeping her under and watch her closely to prevent Adrianna from hurting herself.”

“This has never happened before, nothing like this has ever been a problem in the past,” whispered Mrs. Burns while gazing at her offspring. “Has she ever been evaluated before, for any mental conditions?” “Well… no. This hasn’t happened before-” “Ma’am, there are usually indicators during early childhood that show a child may develop some severe form of mental illness. Have you never observed any unusual or concerning behaviors from Adrianna in the past?”

With some difficulty, Mr. Burns lifted his head and looked at the doctor. “I never thought about it that much, but now that you mention it, I remember that our daughter had some… hallucinations, I guess you could call them. We thought she was just very imaginative, but now I see that they were a little too severe and persistent to have been just that.”

“Yes, I remember that, too,” his wife added quietly. “She always talked about the ladies in her room and babies in the bathroom. She also mentioned that the wall bled whenever she was upset; but, doctor, we thought it was just the overactive imagination of a little child! If we would have known that it was this serious, we would have taken her to get help! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” she sobbed once again.

“It’s alright, ma’am. I understand how it would be easily mistaken for an overactive imagination; however, based on everything that has happened, I believe that it was much more than that. Mr. and Mrs. Burns, I’m sorry to say this, but it is far too probable that your daughter suffers from schizophrenia, and has since a very young age. I’m very sorry.”

There was utter silence from the shocked couple. “I have one last question for the two of you; has your daughter recently experienced any forms of stress in the past few months?” “I-I… no,” whispered Adrianna’s mother. “The state test was coming up. Maybe we pushed her too much,” Mr. Burns numbly stated, staring off into a distant place just beyond the doctor’s shoulder.

“But we didn’t! We took care of her and encouraged her; everything that we did, it was all for Adrianna! This couldn’t have caused her to… become like this.” Dr. Harrison let out a harsh sigh and rubbed his face in suppressed fury. “So, for this entire year, you’ve been pressuring your daughter to the point where she had a breakdown this severe?!”

“Not for a year. Since she was in fourth grade, we always forced her to absorb herself in her schoolwork entirely.” He turned towards his wife with tears in his dark eyes. “We caused this, dear. She hasn’t had a single stress-free day since she was a toddler; and we never even noticed how she grew worse and worse, until she snapped just now.” The man’s wife covered her mouth while Mr. Burns began sobbing. “We only had good intentions… it couldn’t have been because of us. It couldn’t! I love my daughter, I didn’t do this to her!”

The tired, aged man turned away from the hysterical pair and looked at their daughter sadly.

“The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.”

#disturbing #body horror warning #short story #horror #scary #scary stories

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