#fang CHECK tongue CHECK scar CHECK

[intoxicated-chan]

ROUGH MIGUEL PHARA PLEASEEEEEEE ILL DO ANYTHING I’LL GIVE YOU MY KIDNEYS

I Want You to Destroy Me so I’ll Feel Better

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x GN!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel doesn’t get carried away, but he does like to let loose from time-to-time, leaving you limping and bruised… Not like you’re complaining.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “In My Mouth” by Black Dresses. You can keep your kidneys! Thank you for the request, Anon!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 575

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Gender neutral reader, established relationship, reader and Miguel are married, dub-con? bruises, hickies, biting, office sex, fangs, blood, penetration…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

Miguel wasn’t a big fan letting loose. His biggest fear was doing something that he’d regret, and leave a permanent scar on your body.

But he wasn’t going to lie and say that his employees did frustrate him. There were many times where they were lazy and decided to leave the important numbers or graphs to the unpaid interns, knowing the consequences of leaving an intern to do the work.

Which was the cause of his endless nights in his office, and many meetings of him explaining why leaving interns to do most of the work would land his company in hot water. Luckily, it hasn’t happened but there was always that ONE employee who doesn’t listen.

He was angry, frustrated, hungry, and tired. That’s when his lovely spouse comes in, with a hot meal and dressed in something provocative. He has the perfect stress relief right in front of him.

Miguel had you turned over on his desk, you felt his chest press against your stomach, and his hands kept a firm grip on your wrists, keeping them pinned to the desk. With each thrust, you’re pushed into the desk.

Your eyes are rolled back and you let out airy moans, you don’t know how long Miguel has had you kept in this position. Your body was sweaty, covered in hand marks or hickies, maybe a bite or two.

Miguel pulls out and thrusts back in, he hits all the right spots. You feel ecstasy run throughout your body, setting all kinds of jolts. As he goes harder, if that’s possible, he releases one of your wrists and he grabs your hips, feeling his claws dig into your skin.

The pleasure is making you drool all over his desk, “Miguel!” You gasp and moan his name, you feel him go even deeper, making you moan even louder. Now, you are certain his employees can hear you.

You weren’t even sure if Miguel had locked his door, which means any one of them could walk in.

Miguel spits out many curses in his language, his grip on your hip gets tighter which means he’s also getting close. He leans down and bites your shoulder, you could feel his fangs penetrate. You could feel him drool, his breathing gets heavy.

He pushes you over the edge as you feel yourself cum, the jolt of pleasure flows throughout your body as you let out a final moan. Miguel doesn’t pull out, he slams inside one last time, releasing his cum inside your hole.

You hear him growl and pull from your shoulder, he pants heavily as he doesn’t move. He doesn’t pull out.

You try to lift yourself up but Miguel slams you back down at the desk, “And where do you think you’re going?” He smirks, you could see your blood from the corners of his mouth, his tongue comes out and swipes at the blood, going back into his mouth.

“M-Miguel… You have that meeting-”

“Those idiots can wait, I need you right now. I need you to make me feel better.” Miguel leans down to your ear, “Can you do that for me?” He whispers in your ear.

You nod your head.

“Say it.”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Miguel doesn’t waste time and continues his hard and fast past.

You know when you leave his office, you’re going to be stared at. You know you’re going to be limping out of his office… Not like you’re complaining.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[heartfullofleeches]

monster reader just being super excited to see their mate(aka real cult owner), since they're so similar to themselves

every similarity is so nice, and the differences.....hey, can i touch your horns? ohhh, that's how they feel like

meanwhile their mate is just melting inside in a pile of goo due to how adorable reader is, and how much they want go cradle their face and pepper it in kisses

or some sort of interaction like that, if may i ask

Walking alongside your so called mate, you watch closely as they heal the remaining cultist injured during their reawakening. You place a wild flower or rock by their bedside as added apology, but you can't help but wonder away from your assigned task whenever your spouse opens their mouth.

Between their black teeth and beneath their serpent tongue, another thinner pair of fangs glowed deep red as the smog they blew entered their victims wounds. When you checked your own set there was no hidden teeth to be found, much to your disappointment.

There were a fair amount of differences you had noticed, most obvious as apposed to the one you just discovered. You were roughly two feet taller than the tallest cultist whereas your mate barely fit into any given room. They had two sets of horns whereas you didn't have a single nub. It was hard to deny that you were the same breed, but why did you look so much different than them?

Giving the last cultist their get well present, you stand on your toes as you return to their side. The deity becomes aware of your odd behavior when you bump into them from the imbalance, swooping you off your feet before you can right yourself with their best rendition of a laugh.

"Precious one, mind telling me what you are up to?"

"Nothing, it's just- I never thought I'd met someone like you and you're still so different compared to me. There's so many things I want to do and ask."

"Well, both my mind and body are temples you may explore however you please, my love." The deity steps over to a nearby tree and props against it. "Do as you wish."

"Hm.... To start off." You grab the pair of horns closer to the top of their head. Appearance wise they're slick black and without a blemish, but touch wise they feel no different than the tree bark behind you. "These are huge. Wonder why you have them and I don't."

Cracks form in your mate's otherwise tough persona as you grip their horns. "Going straight into the sensitive areas, are you? I'm unsure why you don't have them myself. Maybe you are a crossbreed with a mortal or just the runt of your litter. Either way, you are perfect for me."

"Maybe...." Your focus on their horns dwells as they smile, recollection of their second pair of teeth coming to mind as you ghost your claws over their lips. "Wish I could heal people like you do too.."

The deity kisses the pads of your fingers, relishing in the feeling of your skin across their scarred lips. Could you get any cuter?

"You have your own way of doing that, love. Maybe another reason for your stunted growth is that you haven't eaten enough humans."

"You do that?"

"Only the ones who test my patience, which is the majority of them."

"I think we'll need to talk more about that later."

"Moving on. Are you able to do this?" The deity cradles you to their chest, making sure your ear is to their throat as a soft rumble starts in their chest. You pull away with an expression that makes them fall in love for the second time in all their life.

"You purr?!"

[yanaleese]

Meet Karma, your new Yandere boyfriend!

Originally from El Salvador, Karma was born into the Sangre family - a line of totally innocent people who have no infamous connections whatsoever! He is the eldest out of his five brothers, and enjoys playing regular sports, including some...questionable ones.

However since that terrible, unfortunate day - things have never been quite the same. Now isolated and alone in an apartment somewhere in North Carolina, Karma has a new goal in mind: To never ever befriend a fucking vampire human ever again!

It's simple. All he has to do is (1) offer his black-hat hacking services on some shady websites, (2) steal some shockingly juicy government and state files (3) blackmail a few higher-ups and (4) use that gossip money to fund his exercise and gaming equipment by delivery-

Oh. Wait. Delivery?

"Puchica!" Karma cursed in his head, his fangs momentarily grazing his lip . He must've have fallen asleep a couple hours after working overtime. Brushing his bangs, he fully covered the bags under his eyes, before staring into the door's peephole, revealing your presence.

And there you were, impatiently tapping your feet in annoyance. As the minute hand kept ticking, your face gradually became distressed, your cheeks revealing your bloodshot eyes. You wanted sleep, and you wanted it now. After all the setbacks and inconveniences on your busy shift, this was your last delivery - and you were not going to let this customer shit on your parade.

As the door began to creek open, you flashed a plastic grin whilst waving the delivery in his face.

"This your delivery, Sir?"

Karma nodded, giving a genuine smile back, pen in hand. Your eyes almost bulged out of its eye sockets. You felt yourself bit your lip hard, causing it to bleed. Lowering your gaze, you prayed that your beating heart didn't combust into a malfunctioning, bumbling mess.

In your head all you could think about what was one thing, and one thing only.

Holllllllllllly shit. Those FUCKING T I T S -

"Cool. Just sign here, and you got yourself a present."

You heard a low chuckle out of him, causing a slight blush to form on your face. You cursed under your breath, trying to keep it together. Karma's eyes twinkled with amusement, loving the professional façade you retained on your already tired face. However, if you looked closely, you could see a hint of worry flash on his face as he saw you have a nosebleed, along with a bloody lip.

Noticing his concern, you wiped the blood of your nostrils. "Oh Sir I am so sorry-"

Without even waiting on your apology, he returned with a bundle of paper towels in his scarred, parched hands. Embarrassed, you mouthed a million apologies before shyly requesting for him to sign the blood-stained paper.

"Once again I am so sorry-"

"Don't be."

You nodded, avoiding his gaze. As he finished signing everything off, you lowered your polyester cap, your name beautifully sewn in cursive at the top - just like your shirt. Scarlet strands of hair shifted as he tilted his head, his eyes engraving your name into his head. That way, he could run a background check later.

As you hurriedly walked away, he glanced at the fresh droplets along the ivory paper before revealing a wide range of pearly, sharp teeth.

"Ah mierda..." He bit his finger, Karma's tongue salivating. Feeling the heat growing in his cheeks, he became dazed, as thoughts of you began to fill the crevices of his mind. "No puedo esperar para devorarte entero, [Y/N] ♡ ~"

--------------------Alternate versions---------------------

If you are interested in more of his lore, my inbox is open (lol)

and yes, the bulge was intentional 🥰

[captain-mj]

Write the vampire muzzle fic >:)

Okay! And because some people asked Vampire Soap Fic

Ghost didn't understand the big deal. Soap had bit him before with no issue. He supposed those were usually very controlled, gentle nips. That day, something must've been different. Whether Soap was just more worked up or hungry, but he had sank his teeth into Ghost, deep and hard enough that each individual tooth could be seen. It had taken a few minutes to staunch the bleeding and his poor boyfriend was so distraught about it. Soap had also seen the marks on Ghost’s back from his nails and Ghost was very, very glad that he hadn’t see the bruises from that one time he had been on top and Ghost had handprints on his thighs. 

So they came to this solution. Well, Soap did. Ghost still thought he was overreacting.

That being said, the leather muzzle on Soap’s face was… alluring. It connected to his collar that had a ring on it. Hypothetically, it would connect to a leash, but Ghost had drawn the line there. He wasn’t going to put his boyfriend on a leash because he was nervous about biting him. His hands were tied to the bedframe with the handcuffs from the same leather set. 

“Are you okay?” Ghost wanted to check in, gently checking that nothing was too tight. 

“I’m fine. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“It was a simple bite.” 

Soap pointed to the scar on Ghost’s shoulder. “It’s still there. I can’t risk you, Simon.” 

Ghost ignored the warmth that gave him, instead kissing his hair. He tugged the little ring, watching Soap’s pale skin flush just a little. Soap had already been stripped down. All on display for him. For Ghost. 

Ghost rubbed his chest gently, warming the skin underneath it. Soap, now that he wasn’t worried about it, moaned and bared his teeth. Long fangs sticking out from where his canines would be. 

Ghost slid his hands down his body. “You’re so cold. Always like it.”

“You’re so warm. Come on, hurry up. Need you in me.”

“No. I want to take my time.” He squeezed him gently. “Gonna take you apart and you’re going to sit here and look pretty.”

Soap groaned and tried to press into him, but he was still worried, not wanting to push Ghost in case he hurt him. 

Ghost kissed along the inside of his thighs before sinking his teeth in to him. He wished he could cut into him the same Soap could. His tongue laved over the spot before he bit again. He scratched down his thighs and felt Soap arch underneath him. 

Ghost forced Soap’s legs further open and licked up his cock, keeping eye contact with Soap as he did. 

“Simon…”

Ghost grinned and dipped down and licked over his hole. His tongue pushed gently into him, surprised by how tight he felt. No matter how rough he was, Soap always bounced back so quickly. Such a tight, cold fucking pressure. 

Soap whimpered and whined as his legs thrashed. His thighs clamped around Ghost’s head, trying to encourage him to do more. Ghost was a cruel bastard though and watching Soap struggle against his binds, leather digging into this throat, was making him want to be a bit mean. He doubted Soap would mind. 

So he sat there, holding his legs open and enjoying him. Lightly pressing his tongue inside before licking up his cock. His fingers teased his rim when he focused on his cock and his slit while he was focused on his hole, very carefully skating between enough stimulation to keep him interested and not nearly enough to get him close. 

Spit and precum covered the inside of his thighs as he refused to let up, watching Soap try to escape even more now. 

“Simon…’ Soap whimpered out. 

“Johnny, do you want to be let out?”

“No. Gotta…” he panted for a second, steeling himself, “gotta keep you safe, Lt.”

Ghost shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.” He eventually got bored of his relentless teasing, watching the relief on Soap’s face when he grabbed the lube. Starting with one finger, he worked him open. He didn’t bother with gentle, but he did go rather slow, watching as Soap’s muscles flexed and tensed to try to get him further in. 

“Please. Please.” Soap whimpered out. Like always, the cold caught Ghost off guard. It wasn’t cold like ice. More like porcelain or rocks. Soap’s body didn’t withhold heat for very long. Ghost twisted his fingers gently and tried to press in deeper. He managed to fit another finger in and curled them slowly, feeling Soap shudder happily. 

Ghost slowly worked him up more and more, scissoring his fingers and getting more open. He pushed his tongue in with him and licked into him while his fingers pushed in deeper. 

Soap squeezed around his head again, whimpering. He cut his lip, blood gently dripping down his chin. Ghost would have to think of a solution for that. He’d rather have Johnny bit him than himself. 

That didn’t stop him from continuing to drag this part out too. Watching his lover fall apart, blue eyes never leave his. Finally, Ghost conceded, too horny to keep teasing. He forced Soap’s knees to his chest and poured more lube over his hole before coating his cock in it. 

Soap steeled himself for more teasing and Ghost shoved in roughly, catching him off guard. He cried out and squirmed, legs moving to wrap around Ghost’s hips. Ghost put one hand on the wall above his head and the other on the bed next to him and pounded into him. 

Soap leaned up for a kiss and Ghost obliged by kissing his hair. He grabbed the little ring on the collar and forced his head back. Soap tried to escape his gaze, but Ghost wouldn’t let him. Tears were filling his eyes but Ghost wasn’t sure if it was from the rough treatment or the teasing or even just the embarrassment. 

“Johnny. I know you’d never hurt me.” 

Soap shook his head frantically and his eyes rolled back when Ghost hit his prostate dead on. 

“Oh, love. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He twisted the ring so the collar tightened. Soap flushed and relaxed a little, pressing back against each thrust. His little whimpers faded into proper moans but he still looked wrecked. 

Ghost reached up and grabbed the front of the muzzle, moving his hand to make him shake his head. Soap’s tongue immediately pressed against his fingers, licking over them desperately. 

“Good boy.” Ghost purred and Soap clenched around him. “Held out for me so well. Go ahead and come for me, love.” 

Soap moaned and nodded, trying to press closer to him before his whole body tensed. He came hard and started to go limp. Overstimulation must’ve him hard because he was properly sobbing soon after, though his legs still stayed around his hips. 

Ghost took his time, knowing Soap would stop him if it became too much. He buried himself deep in him and came, loving the slow lazy smile Soap gave him when he did. 

“You’re wearing the muzzle and collar more.”

“Yes, sir.”

[chainmailchalamet]

DRAG ME UNDER, BURY ME DEEP

tags: black gender-neutral reader + timothee chalamet, dom/sub dynamics, degradation, discussions of impact play, spitting, knife play, safe + sane + consensual, predator/prey dynamics, set in a professional BDSM space

—————

He doesn’t look like much, and you feel kind of bad for thinking it but — he just surprises you, is all. Maybe it's just your bias, that you assume there must be a look to the kind of person who wants to do to you what you want done. Someone a little rough, big and scruff and a little nasty — face-tats and a thick neck and big hands. A daddy type, a bear, a deviant at first glance.

This guy is…not that. Taller than you, sure, and so good-looking it makes you blush a little, but he’s just so…soft. Pretty. Bashful little tilt to his pretty head, pretty hair falling into his face in soft little curls. Shyish smile, cupids-bowed pulled back to tease a little dimple in the corner. Nice hands, well-groomed and long and lean — powder blue polish on the nails, no scars or tattoos to rough it all up. He’s got a black sweater on, fit so nice to his frame — nice broadish shoulders, elegant neck, just the slightest hint of a bulge in his bicep. He looks strong the way a swimmer would be, or a dancer.

He doesn’t look like the type to pluck you up by the neck, crowd those nice well-groomed fingers into their mouth and tell you to speak up if you want something, to laugh at you while you try to speak around the intrusion, to smear your own spit back into your skin and sneer “what a fucking mess, huh? why don’t you say sorry, like you mean it…”

“You, uh…” you pause, choose your next words carefully. “You’re different than I thought you would be…”

If he’s at all offended by this statement, he doesn’t show it, just breathes this quiet amused sound to himself — his cheeks even pink up a little, as he swipes his hair back from his face.

“Mm, yeah, I guess that makes sense, I’m not exactly…” he looks up and away like he’s searching for the right word, mouth curling into this wry little smile that is so boy-scout-prince-charming-boyfriend-coded that you kind of want to shake him a little, or kiss him a little. “I get it! If you wanna follow me back to the front desk I can —“

Fuck, that’s not — “No, no, I’m just…I just don’t want you to get into something you didn’t sign up for, you know?”

He pauses with your paperwork in his hands, eyebrows furrowed a little, but he’s still got this smile on his face, this ever-amused, almost permissive look to him. “Hm,” he hums, holding your eyes for a moment that stretches like honey, just long enough that you start to shift a little on your feet — and then he flips through the papers like he’s looking through them for the first time, makes a show of scanning through every line, muttering to himself like he’s reading them to himself, like he’s just so thorough.

And then you get it — that slow curl low in your gut as you realize that this is all an act — that this faunish, sheepish looking bambi motherfucker is fucking with you. That you’ve fallen for it, and (the fear curls warm and sharp in your gut, and then turns itself inside out until it feels like something sweeter than fear) that you’ve no idea what it even is.

“Hm, let me see…” he flicks his eyes up, and it’s like he’s checking for something, and once he’s found it in you he just shifts. Holds himself a little looser, let’s his gaze pierce you deep, let’s his smile get a little mean, swipes his tongue across his teeth like he’s coaxing his fangs out. “So you didn’t want to get slapped across the face, then?”

You shiver. When you answer, your voice has gone all coarse, like you’re not used to using it. “I don’t…” you cringe, clear your throat, try again. “I don’t understand what…”

He nods, feigning understanding. “Mm, I’m sure you don’t…you need a second, honey?”

Honey. “I…”

“You must not have asked to get choked out, tied up, spanked and — you specifically asked for someone to spit in your mouth and call you a pretty little slut, isn’t that sweet — but I mean, it’s not like you filled this out, right?” He continues, making his eyes all big. You get the sense that he’s mimicking you, and it makes you wanna look at the ground because you don’t trust your eyes not to water a little. He’s so fucking mean (he’s so fucking perfect). “Do you need me to explain how this place works?”

You mumble something and he tuts, shakes his head. “Wanna try that again for me?”

It doesn’t feel like he’s asking, not really. It makes you feel small, stupid — makes you petulant. “I know how it works, I just…”

“You just what?” he simpers. He puts the papers down on the desk in the corner of the playroom, stands to lean against the wall of floggers and paddles and — fuck — crosses his arms, fixes you with a look that could rot iron. “You thought you’d fill out all that long, boring paperwork and you’d get paired up with just anyone? Do you think you’re just so uniquely filthy that no one would be able to keep up?”

Fuck. He’s so mean. You might be tearing up a little — you can feel it curling up in your chest, humiliation warming up your nose and pricking at your eyes. “I didn’t fucking—“

“Oh, look at the fucking mouth on you!” he giggles a little, but not like he thinks you’re funny — more like he thinks you’re so so dumb, just supremely stupid. “That’s cute, that’s just fucking precious…”

“I’m so sorry if I’m a little surprised that someone like you…” you spit the you at him, send it at him like a weapon, stand your ground and show him your teeth — reckless with frustration. “…would have the fucking guts to do any of that shit! It’s not my fault that you’re built like a fucking Disney princess.”

Perhaps a step too far, if the way he studies you is any indication. He’s gone all straight faced, and the contrast between his cherubic face and his dead-eyed gaze puts you on edge. Within his arm’s reach, there is an array of tools that could break you down to nothing with just one strike. He looks so out of place in a room like this, with a Saint John’s cross and a bed laid in all black with all the fittings — so many different spots to be strapped down. You don’t have to look up to know that if he wanted to, he could string you up from the ceiling like a chandelier. You’d even marked your interest down for that in your paperwork, so he already knows.

The appeal of this dungeon is the placement program — their success rate in people up with the perfect partner, with vetted professionals that specialize in knowing exactly what you want and how to give it to you. You should have known from the second he walked in that he was the perfect sadist for your masochistic tendencies — that he would slap you in the face and spit in your mouth, that he would strap you down and simper degrading little things in your ears, that he was going to torture you until you tapped out (and he probably also knew that aside from a couple hard-limits, it would take a lot to get you to tap, that you wanted to be pushed and prodded and batted around until you cried or passed out).

“Disney princess, huh?” He’s dropped the act completely now, and the mean curl to his mouth is so dissonant with the look of him — it just throws you off. In a way, it’s so much more exciting and terrifying the way he steps into this new skin, the way he wears his dominance. You imagine him with his hands around your throat, distaste marring his pretty face, and it’s so hot you get a little light-headed.

You think that maybe you should apologize, and then he widens his eyes (all big and innocent, he’s so sick) says “I’m gonna give you ten seconds to say sorry, ok?”

You clear your throat. “…or what?”

“I don’t know…” he grimaces, like it just pains him to do this to you (oh, he’s nasty). “I’d rather you didn’t make me punish you — there’s some really fucked up shit on your sheet, you know?”

You feel like the ten seconds has already started — he’s setting you up. He’s running his eyes over all the toys displayed against the wall, but you know he’s already got something in mind.

“I’m sorry?” You say, like you’re not sure.

“Mm..” he hums. “Little too late for that.”

He pushes off the wall, digs in the pocket of his worn-in looking Levi’s. Pulls out a little pocket-knife. “Don’t move, OK? I’d rather not make you bleed if I don’t have to.”

You freeze — there’s only one door out of the room, nowhere’s to run, nowhere to hide. It’s like he reads your mind, the way he steps towards you like he’s trying not to startle you, like he’s hunting. “I’m sorry…”

“Shhh, it’s ok, sweetheart — just gonna hurt you a little…” he says, slow and sweet like he’s got honey under his tongue. “Just gonna make you cry your pretty little eyes out…”

[magpie-blues]

I was listening to Sleep Token while writing this if it wasn’t obvious

Warnings: not so very healthy relationship dynamic, a lot of masochistic ideology between all three characters.

This is my take on Havik x Reiko x Rain based off the canon events in mk1, this takes place after everything that happened in the games story mode. Sorta of a character study if you really want. Titled it a line from a sleep token song for now bc idk what else to title it

I’m so sorry if there are spelling errors I looked it over as many times as I could I just rambled and slammed it on somewhere I’ll check again and again just to make sure lmao (can you tell I’m insecure)

Anyway SORRY HERE U GO BABS

You Taste Like New Flesh

He wasn’t raised to be a predator. But he was prey that fought back. Zeffeero wasn’t helpless. If anything, he considers himself the opposite. The former Empress raised him well to defend himself along with her own daughters.

A gesture she did not have to make, to take in a young boy deprived of his birth mother and a god of a father that wouldn’t even bless him enough with the presence. Yet, he learned not to care.

His sisters were kind. They always tried to reach him. But almost every time, Zeffeero would crawl away before they could get any closer. Deep down, he felt something burning in his chest, against the current of his cold heart. A ripple in a still lake. A desire for more than he had.

And he took the risk without thinking of consequence. And his mother no longer called him son. And his sisters no longer call him brother. He didn’t think she would die, it was not his intention. But it didn’t change what he had done. After all that was provided to him, in his efforts to obtain more, he just lost all he had in the process of trying.

Zeffeero refuses defeat. If he lost a family then he will get the power he damn well deserved for his selfish actions and sacrifice. Forever will he refuse that it was the wrong choice, or admit to wrong. And his eldest sister cast him out, no longer Prince, and no longer safe from the jaws of predators.

Reiko was brought up a predator. Never falling to become prey. Havik learned to parry those who prayed on him and learned to bite back. The hunted became the hunter. And the two intertwined, sickly devouring each other. Couldn’t get enough. Hurt and tore at flesh, never close enough. Between their bared fangs and sharp claws, nothing was gentle, love was violent. But they were violent creatures, and that’s how they loved.

Zeffeero didn’t love like a predator. Not initially. An elk in the clearing, grazing peacefully. No herd in sight. Left alone, abandoned, vulnerable. But no elk was without his antlers. Yet, it wouldn’t stop the wolves from coming.

Two wolves, bloodied with the fluids of each other. They left their pack, and found within where they wandered together, tearing each other apart, a warm body. Dangerous yet alone. Prey to devour.

And the wolves circled the elk. Their maws agape and their tongues lolling between cracked fangs.

And then, Zeffeero learned how to use his antlers. Instead of soft nuzzles and the loving embrace of a mother, he felt teeth sink into his flesh, nails gripping his chest, hands around his throat and rough wrestling between sheets. Soft touches limited. All he felt was stinging pain as the two wolves devoured him. And he grew fangs to bite back.

One would be sick to call it love. Zeffeero wanted to refuse it. It had hurt, his body scarred and mauled. But it felt nice. A contrast to what he was given. And it was something. Havik and Reiko had no intentions of releasing their elk.

The three became possessive. Just because it was rare doesn’t mean it never happened. A night alone where they hid in a rough abode. Planning their uprising. Among the bed they shared, all three heavily gasping for breath, and no longer had the strength to tear or bite. And it was dormant.

Havik had laid himself against Zeffeero’s left shoulder, his arm over his chest. A scarred face against his skin accompanied with faint rugged breaths. The mage had his head against Reiko’s lap, he felt usually bloody nails and rough hands run through his hair, not gripping, no pulling. A gentle touch, as if handling something delicate. No one spoke, there was no need. There will be no violence tonight. Their jaws ached, there will be no biting.

The mage felt his muscles loosen, a hand slipped up against the back of Havik’s head, a light pull to press their bodies impossibly closer and a slight arch in his back for the hand against his own scalp, almost yearning for more contact. This was the love he knew. It was gentle. He didn’t exactly miss it, but it was familiar. Confusing, even. That all mutually agreed they were tired of tearing, tired of being bitten. Ripping each other open had no front here right now. Later it might, down the lane the cycle will continue. But once every rare moment, by themselves, all were quiet. All was bliss.

Zeffeero let his eyes close, inhaling slowly. Havik was slowly becoming more slack against his chest. Reiko’s free hand moved and his fingertips traced the rough scarring and bone of a burned face, his hair down and over his eyes as he leaned over, watching his own hand traverse softly across the features of the two men. Eyes wide but expression unreadable. As if confused by his own actions but made no motion to try and stop himself. Observing outside of his body. All such unfamiliar territory. Gestures such as these were never commonly shared, if not at all for the soldier. Even as a boy, he was strictly disciplined, his only reward for success was keeping his life.

But there was no consequence in the moment. There was no fear of one of them or both of them leaving, because Reiko wouldn’t allow it. Just as Havik would cage him like a bird if he flew too far, or how Zeffeero would pull him under the current if he tried swimming the other direction. Reiko’s hands trailed down from the hydromancer’s face to the base of his neck and the span of his bare chest, his other hand against Havik rubbing against his back in the space between his shoulders, knowing which scars were inflicted by him on their bodies and running over them once more in a practiced motion, but not to reopen this time.

This bond was a rush of adrenaline or an influx of fatigue. Even if pain were afflicted, it was enjoyable when muscles tensed and relaxed after every bite and relishing in the sores after. It was usually Reiko and Havik that stayed behind with each other in a bed. Zeffeero would usually be the first to slip away and relish in his own sores on his own, but was never far. It was a matter of preference, but that didn’t mean when the mage did stay they took it for granted. Even when half asleep, Havik was over half way on top of Zeffeero, an arm wrapped under his arm and gripping from under his shoulder with his chest against the other. Reiko silently watched as he saw the scarred man drift and his head fell lower against Zeffeero’s shoulder and the crook of it, feeling a slight arch of his back into his hand, Reiko responding in kind, as his breaths slowed. When the soldier looked back at Zeffero on his lap, his eyes were closed, but only in light sleep. Reiko trailed his hand back up from the mage’s chest from where it came back to his face, running against the side of his face and lightly pulling his head closer, turning it to the side against him. And Zeffeero didn’t stop it, if anything he leaned into it, shifting ever so slightly as much as he could with Havik and his tight embrace against him.

Yes. He liked this. Reiko will keep them. And they’ll keep each other. No one could love them how they did.

[skullsnbruises]

Trying to get back into writing and here is what I’ve made

[Ao3 Link]

Taglist: @poprockpanda @brick-a-doodle-do @local-squishmallow @dingbatnix @data-expunged-0 @da3dm

Hiding from Humans

[1407 words] [violence, digestion, fear]

Scar slithered through the empty broken rooms, making his way in a circle through the living room, which blended into the dining room, then to the kitchen, and back around again. He was low to the ground, calling out for the two small friends he had made.

The naga was smaller than most, being a breed that was closer to a human bean’s size than the great giants of old. Though, Scar was tough. He knew how to defend and fight, and had a very steady aim when it came to his venom.

The gray and red scaled naga was on the lookout for two little creatures who lived in the abandoned house with him, Mumbo and Grian. The odd little people were borrowers, as Scar had come to find out. They had humanoid features, similar to himself, but were too animal to fit the description of a bean. The borrowers had long fluffy tipped tails, big round ears, soft muzzles with pointed noses, and claws and paws.

Scar was a naga, meaning his lower half was beautifully dozens of feet worth of shining scales. His ears were long and pointed, his jaw could open wider than a human could ever dream, and inside that maw was a snake-like mouth, split tongue, sharp fangs, and venom spit to prove a dangerous enemy.

“Mumbo! Grian?” He called out, arching his back up to lay on his length of a snake tail. He looked around clueless. He must’ve missed the tiny things on one of their expeditions, which they frequently insisted they could do fine alone, to Scar’s protest. He just wanted to help!

Scar was about to give up and take a nap in the beating sun, when a tiny squeak sent him on high alert. His instincts screamed a mouse or rat, and he promptly slithered towards the sound, eyes sharp and slit, ready to kill.

The naga pounced, only to find his friends in his clawed hands!

“Oh, there you guys are!” He licked over the small squirming two as Grian complained and Mumbo chuckled lowly.

“Hello Scar,” Grian mumbled, though Scar could tell he was happy to see his friend.

“Where were you two? I was looking all over!”

Mumbo replied, “We went out for a bit, and, actually…” he suddenly looked full of concern and fear, Scar could smell it on him.

Grian finished the sentence, speaking the fear into existence, “There’s a bean coming.”

At that instant, all their hearts sank in terrified harmony. Scar’s ears lowered, ‘danger’.

“Don’t worry, guys,” Scar promised, sending stripes of kisses up the two’s bodies, “I’m going to protect you.”

Mumbo laughed heartily, “We know, we know.”

“Thank you Scar.”

“With hotguy watching out for you, everything will go a-okay!” He proudly announced, as the distressing sound of a car pulling up and parking outside rang like a gunshot.

He carried his friends anxiously on his head, letting them rest in tufts of brown hair while Scar slowly snuck up to the window to check the situation.

Outside, a human left their vehicle, slamming the door shut. They carried a bunch of odd looking capture devices, and a gun was situated in their hands.

‘Danger. Run. Protect.’ The voice of the naga’s instincts ran rampant with terror at the sight, begging for safety for himself and his friends.

The voice cried, ‘Store, store friends.’

“Guys,” he spoke sharply, already lowering them with his palms, “I have to…”

He’d never eaten them before, as much as Scar would’ve loved to. This would be a completely new experience for all three, and one that he hoped the borrowers would understand.

Grian and Mumbo’s eyes screamed with fear, twisting Scar’s heart into pieces.

“I have to store you two,” Scar whispered harshly, “I have to eat you to protect you, okay?”

The borrowers set even further on edge. While Grian inched back, Mumbo seemed slightly more trusting.

“Whatever you say, Scar,” he muttered, offering himself up first.

Scar picked the borrower up, tilted his head back swiftly, maw open wide and fangs nestled back. His forked tongue came around Mumbo’s tense body, and scooped the little thing up. The naga hoped Grian seeing how willing Mumbo was would make him feel more comfortable. He also ignored the hurt; Scar buried the feeling inside that Grian was so untrusting of him with something so intimate to Scar.

Mumbo was dropped into the snake’s mouth, quickly, and with little fight, swallowed up. The bulge in his throat assured that Mumbo was going safely down to Scar’s storage organ. When the weight finally settled inside him, warm and comforting, Scar’s slit eyes met Grian’s frightened ones.

“I promise it’s safe, please believe me.”

Grian opened his mouth, and just as he was about to speak, the door was kicked open and the human came in.

Both let out a screech, and Grian ducked down while Scar wobbly slithered out of the room.

In the few seconds he felt alone enough, Scar shoveled his friend into his maw. Hastily gulping Grian down, he held his throat anxiously, pressing against the small body inside. Scar could hear the angry human come running in, brandishing the shiny gun that would take Scar’s life. A sob broke through the naga as another swallow brought Grian safely to meet Mumbo deep inside his core. There, they’d be guaranteed to be cozy and safe, even if Scar ended up…

He broke into a fast paced slither, circling his way through the house’s bottom floor to avoid the human hunter. He heard the booming footsteps echo the empty building. Sheer horror filled him with tears as he escaped, breaking out through the open door. The hunter caught sight of him, sending off a bullet in the direction of the naga. It squealed through the air and hit the doorframe which was firmly right behind Scar. He choked on his tears as he darted to the left, into the overgrown garden.

His friends shifted and tumbled around inside of him, and Scar only prayed that they were at least comfortable there.

Inside, Grian and Mumbo were holding on tight to one another as if the world would personally pick and tear them apart. They cried, fearful for Scar’s life. Scars stomach held them internally, subconsciously contracting and squishing them like a desperate hug.

Another gunshot shattered the deadly silence, causing Scar’s long body to flip desperately around. He cursed his length, terrified that the end of his tail would catch a bullet inside it.

An idea crossed Scar’s mind. As he squirmed and twisted through the tall grass, he forced it to be a good idea, and turned around, squaring up as the hunter scrambled for a moment.

They raised their gun to him, and Scar seeped them out from under their feet, knocking the item away. Scar reached down and picked it up, panicking.

Aiming the weapon to the bean, he took a shaky breath then…

BANG.

He hit the hunter square in the shoulder, and a yowl of pain and misery sounded from them instantly, they whimpered and fumbled.

The naga felt something scary take him over, “you will never hurt me or my friends again.”

The human backed away with a start, but it was too late for them. Scar swooped down with his maw impossibly open, and promptly swept the human up into the air. Their feet dangled outside Scar’s mouth as they screamed and screamed, beating against his esophagus with their limited area of movement. Scar swallowed them down, pushing the feet further in with a scary glint in his eyes as he sent the human to their demise in his stomach.

Grian and Mumbo were suddenly squished together, their area inside the storage shrinking uncomfortably around them until they were pushed without a centimeter between them. The struggling and screaming of someone rang loudly from between the fleshy walls. They could feel the figure of the human hunter gasping for dear life. They were being digested alive.

Scar panted as his stomach bulged and was pushed violently against. He felt sick, worried only now about getting some rest. He was slow to make his way back to the house, practically dragging himself along to his favorite spot in the sun, which was still favoring him. He curled in bundles around himself and fell asleep with ease, ignoring the beating and screaming coming from his core.

[yanderepuck]

Kinktober Day 27

WELCOME BACK SLUTS. It's that time of the year you've been looking forward to. As always, Kinktober is hosted by your local Napoleon simp @xxsycamore

If you would like to read Kinktober 2021 and 2022 they are here

Remember to reblog and tell me what you thought about it

Day 27 - Temperature Play | Knife Play/Gun Play 

Hands tied to the bed, and his body on your lap. Your shirt and underwear are the only things left on your body. The room is dark other than a few candles so you can't see much but you sure can feel a lot.

Coming down your neck and around your collar bone you feel the cold blade of a knife dance across your skin. It tickles the tops of your breasts, teasing that he's going to add pressure and finally break skin but he doesn't.

You hold your breath each time the blade makes a turn.

"Relax," he chuckles. "I wouldn't hurt you, little fawn."

It wasn't a large knife, more like a dagger. The one he kept on himself. He tied you down so you wouldn't accidentally jerk and get hurt by the blade. He says that it's why he is sitting in you as well, but you think he just wanted to be on your lap.

The blade squeezes under the front of your bra and he quickly pulls up, cutting it in half, letting your breasts free. You let out a gasp, more surprised than anything.

"Don't worry. I'll buy you a new one."

One hand cups your boob while he leans down to start sucking on your nipple. His other hand massages the other boob, blade still in hand.

You pull at your restraints and moan. If he wasn't sitting on you, you would be squirming.

"You're like my own prisoner, little fawn," he smirks and puts the blade to your neck. Something about that action gets you to moan.

A captain with a prisoner in his bed.

"I must mean something to be kept in the Captain's bed. Not just anyone can get this opportunity."

"You're right, little fawn," the blade glides against your cheek. "You're highly sought after. Going for a high price. But I've decided to keep you for myself."

He licks your checks where he wants to bite you, but then stares at the spot. He knows biting would feel better for you, but he so badly wants to use the blade. Liking your blood from a real wound.

"Maybe I should mark you so that others know not to mess with you."

You were also expecting a bite, but the extra pressure added to the blade wasn't a disappointment. The sliced open your skin at your breast. It wasn't deep, just enough to get blood from you.

Drake's tongue dragged across your skin to lick up every drop. He made a few more small, shallow cuts. With each one you moaned, telling him it was okay. He wasn't looking to scar you however. Not yet.

He groaned wanting more. He was going to have to bite you if he wanted that. His lips moved up to your neck while his hands moved to your hips. He pulled at your underwear, moving his fingers under the fabric.

The knife went under too, and it cut through the fabric to come out. When he went to cut the other side he bit into your neck and your body jerked upward into his body, moaning louder than before.

His fangs dug into you, pulling out as much blood as he wanted. You pulled your restraints more wanting to touch him. Wanting to grab him, pull his hair, rip his clothes off, anything.

He licks the wound he made and sits up, switching the hand that the blade is in.

"I made you cum before I even got inside of you, didn't I?" He smirks and finally starts to take his clothes off. "Let's see where else you like being cut."

[chim-aera]

pomegranate

I am like a pomegranate. I always have been.

not an apple, not easily accessed, not bright, and lovely. sweet nectar dribbling down your chin, skin broken with one bite.

no, I'm guarded. dark red armor, hiding the intimate depths of my soul, of my body. there is no tender flesh available for you to touch, I am all shining sheaths, all crimson coats.

pull me apart, try to rip through my barriers, I'll crumble, fall apart.

all the while I stain you, dripping red, staining your fingers, your tongue, your hands. saying, pointing, showing, what you did to me.

you did this. you did this. you did this.

no I am not easily accessed.

I've always found a sort of solace with the disregarded things. items, objects, creatures, myths. the monsters and morrows.

the misunderstood.

I am like a pomegranate.

I can be destroyed, yes.

with some force, sink your fangs into me, rip me apart. or, leave me alone.

grow bored when I do not yield immediately, I never do. not all the way. I am far too distrusting for that. toss me to the ground let me roll back to Mother, soil staining the waxy surface, as I am simply lost, and forgotten as another rotten harvest. another fallen fruit.

but I can be opened, I can be seen. it only takes gentleness to get there. patience, and a tender hand.

I use no knives when I peel them, pomegranates, just my bare, calloused, cool hands, pulling gently at the top, at the crown, like the one Hades placed reverently on his goddess's forehead.

it will split in two, glistening like rubies, like blood stains, like poems. glittering like scarlet stars, and one by one will I carefully pull out the little jewels, letting the sugary syrup coat my tongue, relishing in a gift from the gods.

patience.

that's all it takes.

and a want for it.

oranges.

it's always oranges.

perhaps I find some sympathy for them, but I have only found kindred in those bleeding garnet garnishes.

they're known so well for their beauty, yes.

but how many act only with violence, ripping her soft flesh, spilling her blood.

why am I identifying with a fruit?

but I am nevertheless.

oh Kore, Queen, Goddess, why do I find myself echoing your name, your epithets falling from these still lips.

over.

and over.

and over.

how did you do it?

left your cage, found your love? when I have done neither.

but I am far, far from goddess.

I'm not even some moon-eyed maiden, all I am, is some shivering, sordid thing.

or perhaps I am simply tired.

tired of all this.

I'm not angry, no injustice has been done.

but gods, gods I am tired.

Orpheus, if it were me he had turned around for, no wrath would mar my features, I would feel no remorse, if I were to be doomed to return back to king and queen, drawn back to Styx, to Hades, with the sorrows and shades, at least the last thing I see is your face. is knowing I was loved.

memento mei in fabulis.

make a story, perhaps, write me weird, write me well.

I know you will.

perhaps one day the song will flit down here to me among the meadows of morose melancholy.

not even my crown of asphodel could make me forget you.

find me in elysium, perhaps, maybe tarturus, but then again, I have passed judgement already, strangely enough, I judged myself well. the bronze sword fell in my favor.

but that does not matter now.

riddles.

metaphors.

inchor drips from my jaws, through the gaps of my teeth, from behind my eyelids, I try to rub it away but it seeps into my skin staining me murky and ink-ridden.

will I always be this way?

I am nothing if not a romantic.

internally.

philosophically

hopelessly.

run your sword through my heart to check if it is still beating, is it? I couldn't tell?

but still, I'd only smile as I fell to the earth, flick my blood of the blade, let it color the anemone blossoms.

I do not want to be wanted, I want to be sought.

for all of me, whole, whole.

scars, and screaming, softness and songs.

all my madness and melodies and melcholy.

if someone will take all of that, I don't know what I'd do.

I do not seek pleasure, I just want to be loved.

and here I am again, some feral, frazzled cat scratching down walls, clawing and climbing in its own indignation.

I am nothing if not some songbird plucking out its own windpipe.

a walking cacophony of conundrums.

dauntless dualaties at its very finest.

but yes.

pomegranates.

patience and care, perhaps I'll just sit here, waiting, within Lord Hades' chambers.

waiting for someone to bind themself to me, willingly, like his Goddess did with him.

waiting till someone wraps rough or tender hands around my aching vessel, to hold me, to want me.

pull me apart, lower my defenses, peel them back one by one.

you scream and stab me I'll cower or combust, but a gentle stroke or soft soothing and I may fall forward crumbling like petals withering in your fists, but for once will someone catch me?

tear me open to the dawn, I may shrivel in sunlight.

it's been so long.

it's been eternity.

but will you?

I'm waiting.

waiting for that chance, that day. when I'm plucked from the branch I so desperately despise, yet cling to. my prison and asylum all at once.

waiting, until I'm pulled down, seen, and perhaps, then you'll taste me, when I'm out in the open, undoing each piece of armor bit by bit, I'll hand you my dagger, as you lay it on the ground, oh how I wish not to need it.

for someone to try, for someone to fight for me, for someone to give me a reason not to need all this fear.

but for now that is fiction.

and I am nothing if not a dreamer, so let me dream.

let me fall back into my fantasies and frivolities that I adore so dearly.

let me sleep.

let me dream.

a tree in winter, will spring come again?

I've never even blossomed.

that's alright.

I haven't rotted entirely yet either, I have time.

but for now here I am, waiting.

a pomegranate.

all ruby rosiness, all tentative textures.

spit me out, or suck me dry. either. neither. but nevertheless I am here.

and I will not lose hope.

besides.

perhaps, just maybe.

there is someone, up there, who is searching for me, who wants me, and maybe for now that is enough.

[captainschaos]

Gentle touch, killer's touch.

The session has hardly began, and Etho find himself on guard again. It is rare he finds himself at the front like this, but Skizz was behind him, and the influx of people needed to be addressed quickly. The clock is ticking, after all. So he stands beside the doorway, hands brushing against each shoulder that pushes through the doorframe. Bdubs is good, of course, Scott is green, they're good, they're good- Alright. He remains on guard, audible smile and joking toss of TNT to himself broadcasting the attitude he wants the others to see. The boogeyman may not have been chosen yet, but he is dangerous, should he need to be. He glances at Skizz, laughing at his antics, scarred arms crossed and dark halo overseeing all. They're on guard, through the quips and conversations. A battle is brewing.

Careful tongue, killer's tongue.

They go above the surface, and Etho pushes across the group to Skizz. He leans in, mutters the duty they always know they need to uphold. But he says it anyway. "We have to protect." He says it because he knows however deep it is ingrained in them, they have other instincts that fight it. He says it as a reassurance. Of course they will protect, it's what they do best, it's what they always do. Now. With that aside. The hunt is on.

No one, not even he, can see the grin that pulls at his face, but it seems to spread through every one of his faeish muscles. It's a simple thing, the hunt, the chase, but it will never get old to him. He almost forgets about the clock in the heat of the chase, but the seconds are sweet as they spill from Joel's fallen body. It despawns quickly, sand on the wind, and in the remains there's laughter. The fanged fae's laugh, a sharp and dancing tune, captivating and capturing.

Wicked laugh, killer's laugh.

And there are other laughs. Tango's, so similar to his own, faeish and just behind him every step of the hunt. The phoenix has always understood him and his playful, deadly instincts, and now that Etho has had his fun, he falls behind Tango's fiery wing to help his hunt. He burns extra hot, extra red, and Etho can tell he needs the kill. There are other hunters, the whole server scrabbling for sand in their hourglasses. Martyn's hunger is clear as he lashes out toward Etho, who raises his shield and swivels to position Martyn between Tango and himself. It becomes a dance, and when Martyn falls in that pool, the phoenix flicks a fiery finger and tosses the dynamite. And the explosion is musical.

Stark silence. Killer's silence.

In the aftermath, it is quiet. The two check their clocks, check the roster, and see the green is thinning. Of the few left, Tango and Impulse are forefront for Etho and Skizz. Team T.I.E.S. regroups, and the fae and the reaper share yet another glance. We have to protect. They don't say it aloud, but they know, and fall into position. But these are the Life Games, and there's only so much that can be done. Impulse falls, and they all curse under their breath, but they refocus. Tango will be the next target, and now that their hunt is over, the hunt will turn against them.

"Skizz, I'm just gonna hide behind you, okay," Tango squeaks out as he ducks under Skizz's wing. "It's all you can do, man," he laughs back with a smile. Skizz pats the phoenix's shoulder and pushes off, bow in hand. A warmth spreads against the inside of his skin to match the warmth of his friend's flame as he is entrusted with this. To guard, to protect. It's all he wants to do. Not to be so wrapped up in death as a reaper always is, but to stave it off. But some things are inevitable.

Guarding friendship, killer's friendship.

All Skizz wants is to be a good friend. As he runs with the pack, it's all he wants, to be like the guardian angels he watches with such admiration. But he is not one of them. As much as he wants to be, his halo is dark and spiked, and the weight of the scythe is always a shadow on his hands. Eventually the pack turns on his own, and he knows with a crushing weight he can't escape the death he ferries. He cannot guard against the hoarde, not as long as Tango needs him to be able to, so he goes to Tango while Etho and Impulse pulls the pack away. His protection intermingles with his deathly duty as he shields the phoenix by turning him to ashes.

Pounding touch, killer's touch.

In the aftermath, Etho and Skizz stand side by side. Both with time that wasn't theirs in their hourglass, both standing, watching the allies they find themselves guarding this week. Etho leans into the reaper to teasingly elbow his arm. We'll protect them. Skizz puts on a little smile and elbows the fae back. Of course.

They can't seem to escape it. They're killers. When push comes to shove, the fangs sink in, knuckles turn white and red. But at least they'll put it to good use. Right?

[There will be one of these for each week! This is 4/?]

First // Previous // Next

[pedrito-friskito]

I’m still here - part iv - eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie’s alive….in a sense.

warnings: me half-assedly explaining vampirism LOL, mentions of canon-typical violence, swearing, allusions/mentions of sexual acts but nothing explicit

a/n: AGAIN WTF IS CANON WE DON’T KNOW HER I’m having way too much fun with this and cannot be stopped (check the series masterlist for a surprise 👀)

reblogged & comments always appreciated ♥️

| series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 |

(gif source @yellenabelova, manip credit kilzolga on instagram)

“Sorry I’m late.”

What a line, huh?

If his heart was still beating, it would have stopped all over again at the sight of you sitting there, cross-legged in front of his gravestone. It’s surreal as anything, his name, birthdate, deathdate etched into the stone. Beloved friend, son, soulmate.

Soulmate. Ain’t that the fucking truth.

You look just the same as his memories, but there’s a darkness lingering around your form, shadows marring your usually ever-bright exterior. It’s grief, he knows, sees it in the pinch of your brow and the slump of your shoulders beneath his hoodie and vest. The clothes are too big for you, the sleeves well past your wrist, the vest dwarfing your frame. He can’t hold back his grin when he spots the worn book spilled out of your dropped bag: Lord of the Rings. His ring still dangles from the chain around your neck, now joined by the guitar pick he’d used when he’d played the song, when he’d distracted the bats.

The memory flares in the back of his mind, and the pain along with it. Dustin’s tear-streaked face, the rumble of the bats in the distance, that strange sensation of his life dripping out of him. His final words.

Tell her how much I loved her.

+

After he was gone, after Dustin had left, the pain returned. The searing agony that had ripped through him after he thought he was dead, setting his blood on fire, every injury healing over far too quickly, leaving behind the webbed scars and sensitive flesh. He awoke with a start, scrambling onto his feet preternaturally fast, bats still overhead but paying him no mind, and when one did take notice and tried to attack, all he had to do was lift a hand and the thing crumbled to ash right in front of him.

The Upside Down he woke to was very different than the one he’d died in.

Everything was more…alive. Just as terrifying as before, but everything pulsated harder, faster. How much time had passed, since he died in Dustin’s arms? How he was up and walking now was another question entirely, but how long was he gone? Did you know what happened to him?  

Creatures roared and the air was filled with twice the amount of dust and gunk as before. Eddie held his breath, tried not to inhale, and then realized…he didn’t have to. It was the strangest thing, that awful sensation of grappling for breath when you held it too long never came, his lungs never straining in protest, never begging for air. He was just…still. Alive, but unmoving.

Eddie gave himself a once over, noting the scarred-over marks covering most of his body where the bats had torn into him. Dried blood and gore covered his clothes, his Hellfire shirt ripped to shreds, though his leather jacket was mostly intact. He pulled the bandana from his head, pushing a hand through his tangled hair. His tongue pushed between his teeth out of habit, a reflex, and he jumped when his canine punctured the muscle, the coppery tang of his own blood flooding his tastebuds.

Oh.

Oh.

That was definitely different. Experimentally, he ran his tongue along his teeth, carefully around his canines when he found them elongated, sharp. Fangs. He pressed a hand to the underside of his jaw, finding a puncture spot, scarred over flesh beneath the almost-five o’clock shadow he’d been sporting when he died. Interesting.

Hand moving south, roving over his chest, he pressed it against his heart, waited for the thump-thump, signs of life.

He found none.

But…he was upright. He was walking and thinking and moving and —he said your name aloud, the scratchiness of his throat definitely there but his voice was clear enough — talking. He was alive, in every other sense. But no heartbeat.

Alive, but dead.

Undead.

Wait. He sifted through his mind, trying to remember anything and everything the Dungeon Master’s guide had to say about vampires. It didn’t add up, not all of it — in D&D, vampires were made by a true vampire killing a humanoid, then giving them a drink of their blood. It could have happened while he was unconscious, he supposed.

You’re standing in the literal hell-scape version of Hawkins, he reminded himself. Pretty sure anything is fucking possible, Munson.

The important part remained: he was alive, in some sense. And if he was alive, that meant he could get back to you, somehow.

He wandered a while, keeping to the ever-growing shadows, turning a few bats to dust when they wandered too close. It was oddly satisfying. As he walked, he could feel his throat turning raw, a desperate thirst crawling up the back of his neck. Every time he swallowed, it felt like glass down his windpipe.

Eddie was thirsty.

Makes sense, he thought, if we’re going the vampire route.

Okay, first step: get the hell out of here. Second step: find something to fucking drink.

His feet carried him towards the forest, still careful not to tread on any of the weird-Vecna-fucking-hive-mind-bullshit-vine things that littered the ground. There were just as many of them as before, but they pulsed now, a dim light emanating from within. Gross.

He sniffed the air as he walked, but the scent only made him gag, stale blood and decaying flesh and something absolutely, truly awful lingering underneath. He didn’t have a name for what it smelled like, and he truly didn’t want one. He was still thirsty, but he wasn’t about to sink his teeth into any of the creatures kicking around this hellhole.

Wish I had that fuckin’ radio. At least that way I could try to get ahold of Henderson, tell him I’m alive or something. Bet that kid could find me a way out of here.

He was alone with his thoughts for a few more steps, hands curled around the cuffs of his jacket. His mind drifted to before, to that last night of normal, the Hellfire session, Chrissy Cunningham, the song he’d started writing for your birthday.

And then…

Eddie?

Dustin?

Holy shit!

Eddie burst into laughter, right there in the forest, so loud a flock of bats took flight to his left, but he bared his teeth at them and they paid him no mind, screeching as they took off into the lightning-forked sky. So this thing had it’s perks then.

You’re alive? Dustin’s voice was clear as day in his mind, like a walkie-talkie on crack, the volume perfectly poised and the quality better than any recording he’d ever heard before. Where are you?

Right where you left me, pal. Eddie looked up, searching for some kind of light source. Maybe he could signal them the same way they had signalled the kids when they got stuck the first time. Looks super creepy in here now, though. Like, even more than before.

You’re alive? Dustin’s thought repeated, and Eddie could almost see the shocked look on the kid’s face, eyes big as dinner plates, funny grin growing wider by the second. Holy fuckin’ shit!

Language, Eddie chastised. I don’t really know how, but it doesn’t matter right now. You gotta get me out of here, Henderson. I gotta get back to my girl. And you guys, I guess.

Nice to know where we land on the totem pole.

Hey, you’re not the one sucking my— Eddie cut himself off, a zip of electricity running through him. He pushed the thought away. Not the time, or place. Never mind. You gotta help me, kid.

Of course I’m gonna help you. Where are you?

He looked around. That was an excellent question. Where the hell was he? The forest, sure, but where in the forest? How far was he from the trailer?

Eddie? Dustin called, panic seeping into his mind-voice (he couldn’t think of a better name for it). You still there?

Yeah, he replied. Just tryna get my bearings. Is there still a gate in Wayne’s trailer?

As far as I know. Wayne’s been living in your van, and your girl moved into your room.

What? He remembered his earlier musings. How long has it been? Since I…

Dustin paused. Six weeks, give or take.

Fuck. What… He doesn’t know what to ask.

The police called off the hunt for you a few weeks ago, officially pronounced you dead. We had a funeral and everything. You’ve got a spot in the cemetery with your name on it. Your girl hangs out there a lot.

Jesus fuckin’ Christ. And she…is she…?

As good as she can be, I guess. A pause. Steve and Robin have been keeping an eye on her. She was couch surfing a few weeks before Wayne told her to move in. Covered the gate in plywood, she told me. Not sure how much that’ll help in the long run, but at least it’s still there now.

A weird fucking blessing, sure, but he was lucky the thing was still lurking on the ceiling. It was a way back. He turned around, picturing the trailer in his mind, and though the forest was an identical mesh of dark trees and vines, every direction looking the same, something in him tugged his feet in the right way. Eddie wasn’t sure how he knew, he just…knew.

Hey, Eddie?

Yeah, kid?

I don’t mean this to sound…ungrateful, cuz weird as this is, it’s fantastic to hear your voice. Or mind, or whatever. But…how?

Your guess is as good as mine, Henderson. You’ll have to give me your scientific opinion once we’re both on the same plane of existence again. Things are…different.

Different?

Eddie swallowed, wincing as the feeling. Different. He sighed with relief as the trailer park returned to view, still a ways away, but he was heading the right way. You gotta make sure Wayne’s not there and she’s asleep or something. I don’t…I can’t…They can’t see me like this, not yet. You either.

But I—

No, Henderson. Don’t fight me on this.

He could almost hear the huff in the kid’s voice. Fine.

Eddie made his way back into the hell-version of Wayne’s trailer, found a place suitably uncovered in Vecna vines, and waited. He and Dustin hatched a plan: once Wayne had left for his nightshift, Henderson would camp out behind the van, wait for you to turn the lights off, and then sneak in. He’d pull down the plywood, and then take off, at Eddie’s behest that no one see him, not yet.

It worked like a charm. Wayne left on time, and a few hours later, the window of Eddie’s bedroom grew dark. Dustin snuck in with the spare key that Eddie told him where to find, and as carefully and quietly as humanly possible, took down enough of the plywood for a single human (or inhuman, as the case may be) to fit through the gate.

Eddie jumped for the gate, body lifting off the ground with ease, hands catching the slimy edges, and twisted his body over, nearly somersaulting through the hole before dropping through the opening, landing lightly on his feet, though the linoleum floor groaned slightly at his weight.

You’re more of a ninja now than Steve, Dustin called, and Eddie whipped his head around, spotting the kid peering through the living room window.

“Get lost, Henderson,” Eddie growled, pulling the drapes shut. “I told you, not yet.”

I left a radio on the counter, Dustin replied. Call when you’re ready.

Eddie started walking through the trailer slowly. He was drawn toward his room, where he knew you lay, hopefully asleep, hopefully dreaming something better than what you were going through. He inhaled deeply as he stepped, and stopped short.

He could hear your heartbeat from the opposite end of the trailer, through the closed door and the layers of whatever clothes you wore. He could hear it perfectly, like he was laying his his head on your chest, ear pressed to your heart.

And more than that, he could smell you. Thick and rich, the scent of you permeated the air, familiar in some ways and brand new in others. The pain in his throat doubled, canines sinking into his bottom lip as his hands twitched wide.

His body itched to sprint for the door, to break it down if that’s what it took to get to you, to have you in his arms and sink his teeth into your throat, taste you in every sense and drink his fill until his thirst was sated.

He blinked and he was in front of the door, fingers flicking the knob and letting the door swing inward. Sure enough, there you were, sprawled on his bed. Your arms were curled around one of his pillows, blankets settled around your hips. Dressed in one of his t-shirts, he watched as you adjusted in your sleep, moving onto your stomach, still clutching his pillow. The blanket rode lower on you, revealing the strip of skin above the waist of your panties, and he felt himself twitch in his pants, momentarily distracted from his thirst.

God, he had missed you.

Another blink and he was standing over the bed, over your sleeping form, stiller than a statue. Your lips were gently parted, and he could smell your breath, warm and minty and landing heavily on his tongue. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing a fallen strand of hair over your head, dragging the backs of his knuckles ever-so-softly along your cheek. He wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and kiss you awake, tell you how much he missed you, how much he loved you.

And drink your fill, a darker voice in the back of his mind called. She’ll taste so fucking sweet.

No.

He was out of the trailer in an instant, the door shut quietly behind him. His chest heaved with breaths he didn’t need, night air sucked down his throat and doing nothing to soothe the ache. He made for the forest, feet barely making a sound as he stalked for the trees. The thirst was worse now, spurred on by the delicious scent of you, combined with the lust now surging through his veins like nothing he had ever felt before.

The little woodland creatures never saw him coming.

It grossed him out, at first, repulsed at himself as he sucked down bunnies and squirrels like juice boxes. The taste was not what he was expecting, surprisingly sweet, hot and thick, dulling the ache but not curing it, his body twitching with relief. 

She’d taste so much better, that dark voice called again, louder this time. She’d make you feel so good.

Eddie didn’t doubt it, sinking into the primal feeling for a moment. You would taste good. He already knew you tasted good. But this was different. This was something else entirely.

He bummed around the forest, drinking his fill and trying to cover his tracks. The people of Hawkins were still spooked by the ‘earthquake’ it seemed, and no one came close to the edge of the forest, save for a few cars travelling the road along the western edge, but Eddie heard those as they passed through, heard the engines fade into the distance, miles off.

Eddie let a week pass, kept at his hunting until the thirst had abated enough that the darker voice, the growled thoughts in the back of his mind, faded away, stopped bothering him, stopped taunting him with things he already knew.

When he finally wandered back to the trailer, he found it empty. Wayne was asleep in the van, and he didn’t dare disturb his uncle, not like this, and when he stepped into his room, the scent of you was everywhere, but you were nowhere to be found. 

He couldn’t help but smile, seeing your things mixed with his own, laundry basket overflowing mostly with his clothes, your bras and underwear mixed in. Your hair products were scattered on his desk, your favourite Queen album on the record player, a romance novel on the night table.

But no you.

He snagged the radio Dustin had left off the counter, realizing he could probably just mind-speak to the kid,m, but hit the button and spoke into the mic. “Where is she, Henderson?”

“Cemetery,” the warbled reply came almost instantly, hope dripping from the kid’s voice. “You’re on the south side.”

“Thanks.” And then he was gone.

+

True to Dustin’s word, the south side is exactly where he found you, exactly where you’re standing right now, shock in every part of your expression.

You’re so soft against his palm, your skin heating at his touch. He can hear your heart, absolutely rioting around in your chest, pulse quickening as he lets his thumb ride the curve of your cheek. He catches your tear on the tip of his thumb, pulls his hand away only to lick the droplet from his skin.

You’re just staring, lips gently parted, warm breath fanning across his mouth. Eddie’s lips quirk up, and he knows you can see them, the fangs, but you don’t flinch. Your eyes are ridiculously glassy, and you suck in a breath before you’re throwing your arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. He lets out a low oomph, catching you and pulling you close, arms sliding around your waist. He slides his hands low, slipping beneath the hem of his hoodie until his palms can flatten against your skin. “You’re alive,” you whisper out, the words half-sobs and cautiously, he presses his face into the crook of your neck.

The scent of you is almost overwhelming, your thumping pulse invading his senses, but he’s not thirsty, not right now. He’s more concerned with you, holding you tight and never letting you go. “Something like it,” he responds, and presses a gentle kiss to your throat. You let out a little whimper, hands moving to his hair and twisting in the strands. “Sorry I took so long, baby.”

You shake your head furiously, pulling at his hair until he lifts his face from your throat. “No,” you say, “no apologies. You’re here, I don’t care how long it took or what it took.” You cup his cheek. “I don’t care.”

“This doesn’t…” he trails off, poking his tongue at a fang, careful not to draw blood, “…scare you?”

You scoff a little laugh. “Dustin told me everything you guys went through, everything that’s been happening in Hawkins the last couple years,” you tell him, hand now curling in the front of his leather jacket, “and I saw the thing in the trailer, where Chrissy…” You trail off again, face pinching. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“Nuh-uh,” he counters, squeezing your hips. “Like you said, no apologies, baby. It wasn’t safe here, that’s why I told Dustin to make you promise you’d stay in Chicago.”

“You’ve been through hell, Eds.”

He juts his chin over your shoulder, at his headstone. “So have you.”

You lift a shoulder, shaking your head slightly. “I’m just glad to see you. The rest of it, it doesn’t matter.” You pause, eyes dropping to his mouth, and while his heartbeat isn’t there to quicken, a bolt of excitement zips through him. “Can I…kiss you, or are you gonna go all Fright Night on me?”

Eddie actually laughs, linking his fingers together at the small of you back. You grip his shoulders, upper half tilted slightly away so you can see him better. “Fright Night, huh?”

You smile. “Steve made me watch it. Movie night with him and Robin.” Your gaze drops. “They’ve been…looking out for me, Dustin too.”

“I’m glad.”

“You picked a good group of friends, Munson.”

“Picked a good girl, too,” he says, and doesn’t miss the way your pulse quickens. “You can definitely kiss me, sweetheart,” he grins. “Thought you’d never ask.”

It’s slow, on both your parts. Eddie tilts his head to the side, watching you carefully. You swallow hard, throat tightening and he’ll be the first to admit his jeans are getting tight. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth as you lean in, one hand still gripping the front of his jacket, other resting on the side of his neck. He can feel the tips of your fingers just grazing the scar tissue on his neck, the feeling nearly making him jump. It’s sensitive as anything, and he sucks in air as you lean in.

Every memory he has of kissing you before, they all go out the window. There’s nothing that compares to this kiss, the way he can feel you come to life beneath his hands. He wonders idly if it was like this before, his senses just too dulled to notice, but the thought is quickly pushed aside when his tongue slips past your teeth and he can taste you. It’s like your scent turned into syrup, thick and rich and mouthwatering on his tongue, tastebuds exploding. Your teeth clash with his, returning his enthusiasm as much as you can, but Eddie’s on another level. He’s hard as a rock, pulling your hips into his, dragging his tongue along the roof of your mouth and moaning at the taste of you.

He’s careful as he moves his kisses from your mouth to your neck. The taste is lesser there, but the scent is doubled, and he’s nearly drooling as he drags his mouth against your pulse. He wants nothing more but to sink his fangs into your throat, but he doesn’t trust himself yet, not enough. Only if you let him, if you agree to it, that’s the only way.

One of his hands dips from your back, grabbing a handful of ass through your jeans, and his eyes roll back as he feels your moan vibrate through your throat, music to his ears. It takes him a moment to realize you’re talking, too caught up in the feel and taste of you.

“Eds, baby,” you groan, knuckles tight against his scalp, “as much as I’m loving this, we should go somewhere else.”

He has to rip himself away from your throat, that’s the only way for him to stop. He won’t let you go, though, not a chance. “Shit.” His eyes dart to the gravestone behind you. “Yeah, this is kinda weird, isn’t it?”

“I’m more concerned with someone seeing you. Come on.” You laugh, giving him a soft peck before you’re threading your hand through his and starting to lead him from the cemetery.

—————

I have a taglist! if you’d like to be tagged in future works, please fill out this form!💕

eddie munson tags: @trickstersp8 @nightthou @bluestuesday @a-hopeless-fan @billyhargrovesprincess @h-ness1944 @princessbby3002 @detectivecarisi-1

tags cuz just because: @peterparkers-girlfriend @ruhro7 @steadyasthe-flowers @pedropascalsx @pintsizemama @charliecoccix @mindidjarin @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @1800-fight-me @simple-lovebot @itwasthereaminuteago @quadruplescorpio @eddiesloversstuff @effinhell @indulginginmydailydoseofdepresso @dazedrhapsody @deliciousdreamlandlady @pandawithprobs @ajokeformur-ray @natashaashleymarvelromanoff

[sunlessea]

[ 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 ] + [ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ] - adrifires :)

in which i try rly hard to participate with sunday memes / [ 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 ] : sender plants kisses on undressed receiver's scar/s. + [ 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ] : sender and receiver are having lazy morning sex. / @londonfallen.

he wishes he knew when its fascination with his own scars had started : it hadn't ever paid so much attention to him, he thinks, back in the days he only was spared attention for the most part in its office at work. those days are past, nestled in the blissfully dimly lit comfort of his home within the coffee shop, where even this early he could already smell the beans wafting in from downstairs. in this privacy, shockingly quiet save for his occasional, forced out gasp or moan, or fires' own purring, it falls more tender, though. not usual for them, true, but not so unusual either, not anymore. in this atmosphere, he should've seen it coming... but where its lips tickle his skin, scars long healed over, he can't imagine where its sudden gentleness towards them had come from.

it readjusts him where he sits atop it, legs wrapped 'round its waist and face hidden 'gainst the crook of its neck. he's keeping himself shockingly in check, for how deeply its cock is pushed inside of him, and how obediently he lets its claws guide him along the length of it each time it thrusts up to hit deeper when he pulls himself off. it's a steady rhythm, soft, slow, but it still has him biting on his tongue. especially where its nails dig into his skin... at complete opposite the considerate way it kisses those scars along his wrists, held up to its face where it'd stopped him from holding onto it too tightly. unfair, he thinks, when it has near a death grip on him.

"you know—" it thrusts up into him again and he falters, whimpers against its shoulder where his fangs graze its skin. he can't tell if its his breath that's hot, or if it's really that turned on. it's so hot and cold about these encounters, slow and sensual, where it isn't usually. he thinks it may be embarrassed to admit how much it likes it. "—you know," he tries again, breathless, "those are old... you don't have t—" he pushes his hips up, it yanks him back down, he moans, "you don't have to do that—" his voice waivers, and he grinds his hips down onto its own, letting it feel itself inside of him where he waits for it to kiss his wrist again, then lightly pinches its nose. "i—i'm... fine—" more than fine, right now.

[carleighalpha]

Promising Potential Pt 1

Black Hat meets a girl and can’t resist her. The more he follows, the more he understands her pain and gives her a deal.

Rating: M.

Word Count: 1.8K

Imagine: Smut.

Warning: Vampirism. Transformation. Blood. Enough Said.

As Black Hat walked the streets of a small populated town of Nightshade. He can only smell the townsfolk’s blood. His plan to take the Priest’s daughter would take effect the very next full moon, however, he needed to check the first stop of the train’s passing before he could enact it.

“ This will be a good first stop for my plan to make the Church suffer.” He said as I saw a flash of some {H/L} {H/C} hair pass his gaze. He smirked. His fangs shone in the dim light of a flame that was lit. He followed her with a predatory lurking that drove him to follow the flower.

“ Where is a delicate flower like yourself going in such a lone way?” He asked as she turned to him. He saw the skin of her neck had a claw scar from a vampire most likely.

“ Nowhere in particular stranger.” She said with intent. He can smell something on her. 

“ I see no cross on you.” Black Hat said as he got close enough to her. The heart within her beat nicely.

“ As if God can hear my cries of my cursed blood, my pleasure for mercy.” She said as he saw a flash of anger in her {E/C} eyes. 

“ What do you mean?” He asked as she saw his golden eyes. {Y/N} felt he wasn’t human, but didn’t care.

“ Every day since I could remember, my mother told me I was cursed. Everyone in this god forsaken town screams it at me. ‘ Devil Child’. ‘ Devil’s Whore’. ‘Demon Spawn’.’ Bad Blood’. ” {Y/N} said with a burning hate that spat from her tongue. Black Hat was intrigued by her mannerisms.

“ Do you wish to take revenge on those who have wronged you?” Black Hat asked as he walked to her shoulder, his hot breath making her feel something deep within. Something that was deeply calling her.

“ Are you tired of being called a demon to those who worship a false god?” Black Hat said in her ear as thoughts ran through her head.

“ To be called but a mere human with no purpose.” He said as her eyes flashed of temptation.

 “ I want to sin, I want to be stronger. I want to go into my most sinister desires.” {Y/N} said in a trance-like state. Black Hat had a feeling that she would do with his plan.

“ I can grant you those desires. Before I grant you your wish, it will hurt. However, the result will be all the more worth it.” Black Hat said as he looked into her eyes and backed her into the wall. She was tempted and knew that this would be grand.

“ All you have to do is.” Black Hat said with a fanged grin. He lifted {Y/N}’s chin so she could look deep in his eyes.

“ Just ask.” He said with deep lust as he smelt her core and her pheromones. {Y/N} looked deep within those eyes that called to her. All her desires to be strong. To hurt those who've hurt her. To become all she desired was all in front of her. That handsome face beacon her. His body was those of her deepest lustful moments in her mind. All for pain and her desire would be true. She was used to the pain and suffering of all she had known since she could breath with thought.

“ I do. Please. I beg you.” {Y/N} whimpered. Black Hat smiled at this request, no hesitation coming from her. She had it all within and he wanted to taste what would be his companion. Before having her turned like him.

“ Follow me. Before we go on your request.” {Y/N} said as lust made her eyes go wide.

“ But of course.” Black Hat said as he let the woman lead him to this small cottage a little bit out of town. 

“ Before you enter. What is your name?” She asked him. He smiled at her.

“ John, but I prefer to go by Black Hat.” He said to her. She smiled back.

“ {Y/N}.” She replied before bringing him in and the two began to kiss heavily as they left their clothes upon the floor. Black Hat took his hat off and smiled. {Y/N} saw the cross that bridged his nose.

“ A Priest?” {Y/N} asked as Black Hat smiled with a fanged grin.

“ Not anymore.” He grinned before kissing her body with a ghosting effect. {Y/N} moaned as she gripped the headboard.Black Hat knew not to bite her or she would become a familiar.

“ I’m not afraid.” {Y/N} said as she heavily implied knowing he wasn’t human.

“ I won’t bite.” Black Hat said as he saw her core was untouched.

“ A virgin? But you are so beautiful.” Black Hat said as he came up and placed a hand on her cheek.

“ Devil’s whore remember. They didn’t wish to touch me.” {Y/N} replied to him. But Black Hat smiled. He aligned himself at her entrance and entered her. Tears emitted from her eyes as he gave her calming kisses to keep his own hunger down so he didn’t bite her. {Y/N} kissed him back as he knew to move. As he moved, the pain became pleasure to the both of them. Her walls were tight around him. Her smell and pheromones were all the more pleasing to him.

“ I want to be on top.” {Y/N} said as Black Hat nodded. They moved so {Y/N} was on top. It was a whole new feeling for them. As she bounced, Black Hat couldn’t help but groan as this desire to satiate this woman who didn’t judge him or run from him.

“ Oh!” {Y/N} moaned as this new feeling was arising within. Like a tightening and rushing feeling kept rising more and more.

“ This feeling, I don’t know!” {Y/N} cried as the feeling got more and more worried.

“ Let it go!” Black Hat said as the feeling was rising within. {Y/N} let go and felt herself releasing all sorts of pleasure and bliss she never knew. Sure she pleasured herself, but this was a whole new level. Her satiated cries echoed in Black Hat’s ears as he let go as well.

“ Ah!” He growled as the heat grew too much as he felt the heat expel from him and into his companion. The heat made {Y/N} moan in pure pleasure. Black Hat came up and held her so she wouldn’t fall.

“ A world of pleasure and revenge shall be yours after the pain of transforming your moral soul.” Black Hat whispered into her ear. He pulled out of her and they quickly dressed.

“ You must leave this behind.” He said to her as she grabbed a small bag of spare clothes. A {F/C} top and some {S/F/C} pants. She grabbed a pair of leather boots and placed them inside.

“ I always wanted out.” {Y/N} said as she looked for something to wear.

“ Just know you will be bitten till you are close to death.” Black Hat said as she stopped.

“ It will feel like you are passing the threshold of death.” He continued to speak as he got to her.

“ But you shall be saved after the queen’s blood will replace yours.” He said as she turned to him. {Y/N} nodded to him.

“ I go against god.” {Y/N} replied. She pulled out a white dress as a sarafice gown.

“ With my old life gone, I shall be born anew.” She said as he nodded. They traveled by the night till they reached the hive. Black Hat warded off the vampires that tried to go after her till they were at the bottom of the hive. The queen came out and sniffed the woman.

“ He said that you were the answer to my pain. I go against God and wish vengeance upon those with their false deity.” {Y/N} said to the Queen, who looked at her then at {Y/N}.

“ I’m ready to die.” She said to her. The Queen purred as she placed a hand upon her cheek then quickly pulled her in and bites down. {Y/N} screams in agony as the fire explodes within. Black Hat stiffens with fear as he recalls his transformation. {Y/N}’s cries of pain soon stopped as the glaze was beginning in her eyes, but the queen pulled off and laid the girl down. She is breathing shallow breaths. The queen moves her arm and slices into a vein as her black blood flows over her mouth. The blood drips into {Y/N}’s mouth and travels down her throat. This new fire burns through the girl's body as she thrashes about. Black Hat goes over to her and holds her as the Queen returns to her quarters. Letting Black Hat comfort his mate. He sees her grow still as her eyes go from a glazed over {E/C} to a vibrant gold color. Her k9’s had elongated into fangs that had a label to kill.

“ The pain is gone. But this hunger.” {Y/N} said weakly as Black Hat pulled her to his neck.

“ You know what to do.” Black Hat said as he exposed his neck. {Y/N} then carefully bit down on his neck and drew his blood into her. After a short while, she pulled off. 

“ I feel better, but the feeling returns.” {Y/N} said with a smile. Black Hat helps her to her feet and leads her to a hidden cave. The two of them lose their clothes and {Y/N} goes on top of him again, no more pain as she begins to ride him.

“ This is more pleasurable!” {Y/N} cried as Black Hat loved this, he began to hold her hips to control her bouncing as much as he could, her juices flowed upon his member and he loved it.

“ So perfect!” He growled with desire in his veins. He came up enough so he could finally have a taste. He bit down on her neck and she cried out in pleasure at the action. He was pulling her blood but leaving his venom in her. Claiming her as his. Like when she bit upon him after her transformation, her venom lingered in his veins.

“ I’m in bliss!” Black Hat said as he got her on her back and thrusts deep within her. 

“ Take me, my lover!” {Y/N} cried in ecstasy. Black Hat growled as he expelled his seed deep within his mate. The two of them laid on the blood covered white dress.

“ I want this more than you will ever know.” {Y/N} said as Black Hat then just smiled.

Pt 2

[fastenwick]

Wick's IZ characters meet the OCs that inspired them: Part One

D1b Membrane meets Kaster Bluewing

(@ambassador-d1b created in 2022, Kaster created in 2013

Ft mentions of @ukagaka-zim , @honeysicklesprouts , @game-slavers , and @aik-membrane)

Two characters are put in a nearly empty room. No doors, windows, or decor. Just two chairs, a table with food, and a note. The note reads "Enjoy your time together." The food products are Mac N Cheese, roasted pieces of meat with a type of savory jam dipping, gum drops, chunks of dried sugar, and coffee.

D1b blinked and looked around. He couldn't quite remember how he got here, some person put him here? But he couldn't remember their face… Oh well, Zim would come get him soon. He wasn't hurt or anything. He spots the table and reads the note to himself.

"Huh… Enjoy my time with the food? Is it poisoned?" D1b popped a gum drop into his mouth to check. Tasted fine.

Suddenly, a blue creature had joined D1b. He was a bit shorter than D1b. He wore a black vest that seemed two sizes too big for him and well worn with matching shorts. He had dark blue skin, overgrown black hair with an uneven cut, and vibrant green eyes and a cat-like slit for a pupil. Instead of five blunt toed feet, he had three sharp toes, almost like claws or talons. And he seemed to be covered with scales, and there was a scar shaped like claws down his cheek.

"Woaaaah." D1b's jaw dropped and the gum drop fell out, forgotten.

The boy blinked and stepped backward. "Uhhhhh. Hi? Who are you?"

"What are you??" D1b rushed forward to study the newcomer.

The kid meeped quietly in surprise, tense, but not protesting as D1b poked his shoulder, touched his hair, and checked his mouth.

"You have fangs!" D1b squealed. "And so many sharp teeth… Scales and claws! Ooooh, a snake tongue!"

"Uh huh?" The kid just nodded stiffly.

D1b realized he just swarmed a stranger and scrambled back. "I am so sorry!"

"It's. Fine?"

"It's just, I've never seen anything like you before! And that's saying something, I work with aliens and have seen all kinds of crazy shit," D1b rambled.

The kid nodded, making a popping sound by pressing his lips together and separating them quickly.

"Anyway, I'm D1b Membrane." D1b held out his hand to the kid.

The kid tilted his head and looked at D1b's hand, trying to see if something was inside.

"Oh, you shake it," D1b explained.

"Shake. It?"

"Like this." D1b took the kid's hand and gently shook it.

"Huh. What for?" The kid took his hand back quickly.

"It's a human way of greeting."

"What's a human?"

"I'm a human." D1b gestured to himself. "What's your name?"

"Kaster Bluewing."

"Nice to meet you, Kaster!"

"Nice to meet you too? Where are we?"

"I have no clue." D1b looked around. "This note says to just enjoy our time tog-... Ohhhhh, someone wanted us to meet!"

"Who?"

"No clue."

"Oh. I have no clue either. Probably even less of a clue than you. Actually wait no, no clue is zero clue and I can't have less than zero clue, that doesn't make any sense. Unless you have slightly more than me? Since you were here first? I'll shut up." All the words practically fell out of Kaster's mouth a million miles an hour, with no pauses for breathing or replies. Kaster sat in the chair, looking embarrassed.

D1b blinked, trying to catch up. "Uh. I mean no? I don't. I don't know anything. What?"

"What?"The two sat in silence for a second.

Kaster sighed. "Sorry, I'm not the most… social person."

D1b chuckled. "It's okay, I'm not either."

Kaster seemed confused. "You said you work with… al-ee-ens?"

"I do, that's about all I socialize outside of my family," D1b explained, taking another gum drop and sitting down on the other chair.

"What are… aliens?"

"Oh, basically just creatures not from Earth." D1b waved his hand in dismissal.

"What's… E-urth?" Kaster asked hesitantly.

"Aaaand you're an alien. Earth is my planet," D1b said, offering Kaster a gum drop.

Kaster took it, studying it between his claws."What's your planet like?"

"Timore? Oh, not anything special. I haven't seen much of it anyway, maybe the other Shards are more special." Kaster set the gum drop down on the table and picked up one of the pieces of sugar.

"I've never heard of it," D1b mused.

Kaster shrugged.

"What do you mean Shards?" D1b took a sip of coffee.

"Oh, the planet is split into six pieces called Shards and slowly collapsing in on itself," Kaster said casually, biting into his sugar.

D1b choked on his coffee.

"You would think more people would notice that before it became a problem, but nope! Took two something thousand years, I think. We're working on it, though!" Kaster didn't even notice D1b choke.

"Elves??" D1b squealed.

"Yes?"

"What else is on your planet??"

Kaster rubbed the back of his neck, thinking very hard. "Uhhh. Imps, werewolves, sprites… griffins, uhm. Tesels of course. And those are just the nice ones I've met so far. The mean ones are gargoyles, trolls, and wraiths."

D1b sat there stunned for a moment.

"I know there are others too, my dad told me about fish people called sirens," Kaster continued. "Well they're not really fish people, they have fishy tails and then they look more like a tesel on the top. They have scales like me, though!"

"I know fish people!"

"You do??" Kaster practically bounced out of his seat.

"Yeah, one of my best friends! Sprouts is a fish person, kind of. Also they're dating a werewolf," D1b explained.

It was Kaster's turn to choke on his piece of sugar. "They're DATING?? Oh my gosh, how did you get them to get along???"

"I. Didn't? They've always been friends." D1b seemed confused.

"How?? I have issues just getting a tesel, imp, and werewolf not to kill each other, much less be friends," Kaster huffed.

D1b shrugged. "You'd have to ask them?"

"Maybe I will. If I can. Wait, they're on your planet, aren't they? I can't then, that sucks," Kaster sighed.

"Well, I could give them your contact information?" D1b offered.

Kaster blinked. "My what? Like where I live? I don't have a village."

"No, like your phone number."

Kaster just looked at D1b blankly.

"Do you not have a phone?"

"... no," Kaster admitted sheepishly.

"Do you know what a phone is?"

"Uhhhhh nooo…" Kaster rubbed the back of his neck.

D1b sighed. "Well, what does your planet use to keep in contact?"

"Uhm. Talking?"

"No no, what device?"

"None? Well, letters. I mean there's some magic spells for long distance messages, but Lurya knows more about that than me, I don't know magic." Kaster munched on a piece of the meat.

D1b blinked. He'd never run into a planet that had no tech at all. "You guys have no technology?"

"Oh no, we do. Well, the gargoyles do. But we don't know what exactly. Some sort of teleporter," Kaster explained.

D1b was silent, momentarily baffled at the idea of a planet having teleporters but not phones or something similar.

Kaster got nervous in the silence. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No?"

"Oh, good. I say the wrong thing a lot. Well not a lot a lot, but often enough to know that there is a chance I said the wrong thing. A pretty high one. Not like as high as the chance of Erxi saying the wrong thing, but higher than Baraq. Wait no, maybe we're equal? No no, I think my chance of saying the wrong thing is definitely higher than Baraq," Kaster said, once again the words tumbling out of him at high speeds.

D1b blinked and shook his head. "What?"

"Uhm. Sorry, my internal monologue wasn't internal again… That kind of happens when you're not used to anyone listening. That isn't sad, by the way!"

D1b still hadn't quite caught up with what Kaster was saying. "Huh?"

"No no, I just mean it sounds sad! But people don't ignore me, I swear! I just haven't really talked to people in. Six years? Four? Somewhere around there." Kaster continued to munch.

D1b's brain failed him for a moment while Kaster chewed. "That. Was a lot of information."

"Sorry…" Kaster sighed.

"It's alright, I ramble too sometimes. It drives Gaz crazy," D1b chuckled.

"Who's Gaz?" Kaster asked.

"My sister."

"You have a sister??" Kaster gasped.

"Yep, and a brother." D1b chuckled more.

"Hey, I have a brother too!"

"Oh yeah? What's he like?"

"Oh he's Baraq Trapsin. We're twins that got split up years ago, and we didn't know we had a sibling for a long time. He was a surprise!" Kaster grinned.

"My brother was a surprise too! I thought he was dead, my dad never told me about him. Zim helped me learn about him," D1b explained.

"Who's Zim?" Kaster asked.

"My husband. He's the best, so adorable," D1b said with a wistful sigh. "I hope he doesn't get too worried about me being here…"

Kaster tilted his head.

"Do you have anyone like that?"

"No, not really. I think Erxi has a crush on Baraq though. Closest thing I can think of," Kaster explained.

"Eh, don't rush it. You look young, you don't need to worry about it. How old are you?" D1b asked, eating another gum drop.

"Seventeen."

D1b blinked. "You look younger."

"Yeah, most dragons do, I'm told."

"Sorry, what?"

Kaster looked around, then back at D1b, confused. "Most dragons look young?"

"You're a DRAGON??" D1b gasped.

"Well, dragon slash tesel half breed, why?"

"Can you breathe fire???"

"Yes?"

D1b stammered with excitement.

Kaster got flashbacks to Baraq's reaction to meeting him. "Are you okay?"

"Yep! I'm great! Hell, you're so cool. Do you want to be friends?"

"Well, sure!" Kaster nodded.

"What else can you do? You don't look anything like how I've seen dragons depicted," D1b mused.

"Oh, you probably just saw my other form," Kaster said casually.

"Other form?"

"Yeah, I have two forms. This one, and a much larger one that looks like a giant lizard with wings. If I turn into it here, I'd squish you. And I don't want to do that, so I'll stay small," Kaster explained.

"Oh my gosh, you SHAPESHIFT TOO??"

"Uh huh!" Kaster was starting to get excited. "And I can block out magic spells with my mind! It's really cool, and I can control fire and not just breathe it!"

"That's awesome! Can you show me?" D1b asked.

Kaster thought for a moment, then took a piece of odd looking paper out of his pocket and crumpled it in his hands. He blew gently on it, and it lit up in flames in seconds.

"Woaaaah…" D1b gasped.

"Not done yet." Kaster waved his hand and the fire turned into a tiny dancer. It floated around his hand, very dainty and graceful.

D1b watched, excited and barely able to stay in his seat.

After a moment, Kaster touched the figure with a claw and the flame extinguished. He looked at D1b with a wide grin, showing off his sharp teeth.

"That was amazing!" D1b clapped.

Kaster chuckled shyly. "Thanks…"

"You're so cool, I wish I could keep in touch with you somehow…" D1b thought for a minute.

Kaster let D1b think.

"I could give you a phone?"

"Sure?" Kaster shrugged.

D1b opened a panel on his watch. "I just have to get a spare one from Gaz or Aik…"

Kaster blinked, the slits of his eyes widening like a cat entranced by a shiny object. "What's that…" He pointed at D1b's watch.

"Oh, this? This is my watch. It does lots of cool stuff. Check this out." D1b extended his lazer shield.

Kaster squealed quietly with glee. "It's so pretty!"

"And deadly too, don't touch it, it'll burn you," D1b warned.

"Okay, I won't."

"I've also got these." D1b retracted the shield to extend his PAK legs, letting them raise him into the air.

"Woah sitch, that is so cool! You're like taller now!"

D1b chuckled. "I know, right??"

"What else can you do??" Kaster stood up, bouncing up and down on his feet.

"Translate languages, create holograms, give electric shocks," D1b counted off, retracting his PAK legs to stand normally.

"I only know what the first one is, but the others sound so cool!"

A dart whizzed through the room, a note on it, and it struck the wall.

Kaster and D1b both yelped and jumped slightly. They glanced at each other in sync and then started to giggle.

They quickly both burst out laughing, their giggles infecting the other and growing stronger in seconds.

After a few moments of laughing, D1b finally sighed and checked the note. His smile dropped. "Oh no…"

"What?" Kaster asked, looking at the note.

The note read "Say your goodbyes, you'll be going home soon."

"I haven't gotten a phone for you yet…" D1b said sadly.

"It's okay, maybe we'll come back here and see each other again?" Kaster suggested.

"Maybe…" D1b sighed and set the note down. "I have so many questions for you…"

"I have questions for you too…" Kaster looked sad too. "Hey, can I give you a…" He took a moment to remember the word. "Hug?"

"Sure, why not." D1b opened his arms.

Kaster made a small happy squeal and then hugged D1b, who chuckled and hugged back.

A second passed before D1b heard a familiar rumbling coming from Kaster.

"Oh my gosh, you purr??" D1b gasped.

"Oh no, I-I-I didn't mean to…" Kaster stammered, letting go and stepping back.

"I purr too!" D1b began to purr.

Kaster gasped loudly. "You purr!"

D1b nodded. "You purr!"

"We purr??"

"We purr!!"

"This is amazing!" Kaster cheered.

D1b nodded excitedly. "It is! Oh my gosh, there's still so much we could do and it's just going to end…"

"Yeah…" Kaster looked at the ground.

D1b stepped forward to hug Kaster again. Kaster hugged back.

"Bye, new friend," Kaster said softly.

"Bye, take care. I hope your planet stays safe," D1b said.

"Me too."

And with that, they were suddenly both returned to their own worlds and lives.

[aroaessidhe]

The Art of Prophecy character descriptions for fanart.

Full entry (including spoilers) and database link in pinned post!

significant elements are bolded for clarity in database entry :) as is some art commissioned by the author!

----

Taishi

Taishi shifted her own mangled arm hanging useless by her side.

The peasant woman—the one Jian had originally taken for a servant who had forgotten her uniform

The old woman pulled a peach from her pocket and bit into it. Taishi threw her peach pit over her shoulder and wiped her hands on her peasant robes. She held up a hand as if expecting that to quiet the masters.

Taishi’s weathered face close to his, her rough, scarred hand wrapped around his wrists like a claw.

she lashed out with the Swallow Dances, her family heirloom. The plain straight sword with its unusual metallic blue tint had been passed down from father to son for centuries, the story of its origins much warped by a hundred retellings.

Jian

The hero everyone was fawning over was a scrawny teenager wearing only black breeches cut off just below the knee. His skinny chest was defined but flat, his arms were taut but stick-thin, and his skin was pale as ox milk. His black headband made his dark hair stick out like a bird’s nest, but his round boyish face was clean and manicured.

Her first thought was that it was strange for the hero to be so lightly armored compared with his bodyguards, but of course a teacher couldn’t check a student’s form and technique under several layers of armor. The boy flourished his sword above his head, and then moved his hands apart to reveal that it was in fact two identical blades. He twirled the two swords around his body and loosed a reasonable attempt at a war cry, his voice cracking at the tail end.

When Jian emerged moments later, he had transformed into a glittering, shining tank. He admired himself at the mirror before stepping out of the armory. He was a beaming image of a glorious hero of legend, wearing green plate armor with an illustration of a Pixiu, a ferocious cat creature with long sharp fangs and brightly feathered wings. On his person was strapped a veritable trove of incredibly valuable armaments, so that he appeared not unlike a porcupine of shining, glimmering death. On his left hip sat a golden straight sword, next to two glittering daggers. Across his back, a tear-away bandolier held his bone-carved staff, a diamond-etched spear, and an onyx-gem-wrapped bow with matching quiver. On his right hip hung a glass-etched chain whip. Jian had pondered bringing the horse-cutter as well, but the large sword with the extended handle was so heavy he nearly fell over as soon as he pulled it off the wall. He decided against bringing it and left it lying in the middle of the floor. What he was equipped with now should be more than enough against the savage enemy. The gauntlets and greaves of this set of armor were shaped like sharpened furry paws, which Jian quite fancied.

He ran his hand through his now-short-cropped hair, tied his faded white robes tightly around his waist, and slipped on his fighting slippers.

Sali

long before Sali had shaved the sides of her head and declared her intention as a warrior. Long before she had donned the scale armor and learned how to snap death with her tongue.

Her fingers drifted down to her waist where her weapon, a whip known as a tongue, was coiled at rest. She gripped the familiar curved mahogany handle, feeling the static of its vibration as its thousands of tiny diamond-shaped metallic links came alive.

She sent a jolt through the tongue, stiffening its spine until it became a long spear a head taller than she. /  The woman snapped her arm out, and the looped rope in her hand went taut into a long spear.

“The tailor on Flower Street thought the leader of the Kati Underground deserved clothing befitting her position.” Sali rolled her eyes. Just about every word in that sentence was an abomination.

A new figure stepped from the darkness, this one dressed in dark scale armor. A long cloak hugged her body down to her ankles.

Sali pulled her cloak aside to reveal her bone-scale armor, its dull fossilized pieces identifying her as a viperstrike.

The woman wasn’t a normal Kati, however. The sides of her head were shaved, and her hair rose up and was teased back, resembling ram’s horns. Her ears had a dozen or so piercings each and her skin was rough with scars. Her expression was perfectly tranquil, and she sipped her drink even while several of those silly soldiers goaded and taunted her. What drew Qisami’s attention was the woman’s eyes. They were large, sharp, furious, and black as midnight

a striking Kati standing over him, muscular and intense, with a wild mane of black hair on top of her head, the sides shaved. This person did not seem like someone to trifle with, or to shove in the middle of the street.

The only thing Sali could do was use her forearm as a shield. The blade sank into her flesh from one side and came through the other, its tip managing to keep going and wedge into the gap between three pieces of scale armor. / She had to repeat the agonizing process with the fruit paste on both wounds through her arm. She bit down on a leather strap of her armor as she yanked the blade out and cauterized as quickly as possible.

Sali fumbled for a small sack hanging at her belt. She ripped it open with her teeth, and with two fingers clawed out a dark-green spotted paste,

Kati - unusual hairstyles of bewildering colors to their clothing woven from grass and wood

Qisami

The wisps of darkness drifted off the shadowkill’s body to reveal a young woman with pale, powdered skin, a sharp nose, and painted eyebrows.

Her dark-red hair was ear-length except for two long wisps that curled along her youthful cheeks down to her chin, which made it look like she had fangs.

There was something unsettling about the girl’s yellow eyes, a wildness that glimmered in the lantern’s light.

short

a woman with shoulder-length red hair holding two black knives.

The guards and magistrates at the city and district gates had taken one look at her riding cloak and the dress underneath and assumed she belonged. Commoners did not ride in silks.

obviously rich and intricately embroidered red dress clinging tightly to her body dragging mud across the floor. Her eyes locked on the unbuttoned flap near Qisami’s right shoulder that hung lazily forward before drifting down to the slit that ran all the way up to her thigh.

Qisami checked her knives—she was short three—and then used the sharpened fingernail of her pinkie finger to scrawl on her left forearm, cutting just deep enough to draw blood: anyone dead? The redness faded almost as soon as it appeared.

Malinde

finally Sali caught sight of a lithe figure, a good half a head shorter than most, wearing a familiar pair of blue tinker suspenders.

Malinde, soul of their mother Mileene, heart of their father Faalsa, Sali’s cherished little sprout and last of her blood, stood just on the other side of the street. She was taller than when they had last breathed the same air, longer in face and body, and thinner as well. Her face had blossomed full and womanly, but there were fresh lines around her eyes.

Meehae

The apprentice acupuncturist appeared roughly Jian’s age, with delicate features and pale skin

The girl in the white robe was sitting there, dozing, with her head resting on her arms. Her apprentice cap was resting on its side next to her, revealing cascading curls of black hair splayed across the table.

The apprentice acupuncturist was diminutive, with a young face and typical Zhuun features: a fair complexion, a slightly disheveled nest of curly black hair under her apprentice cap, and a small nose and bright wide eyes accentuated by a pair of wired spectacles. A smattering of freckles dotted her cheeks, and her eyebrows furrowed every time she squinted, which was quite often.

The woman on the other side was also dressed in white, wearing what looked like a matching white cook’s apron. Her headdress was just a plain white wrap holding together a plume of black curly hair that exploded outward in all directions from the top of her head.

Xinde

The young man who walked into the room was tall and broad-shouldered and had an air of confidence. His face was long and narrow, with a distinctly square jawline and strong eyes that seemed to demand all the attention in the room. Jian wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or intimidated by someone so good-looking, but all he felt was a strange subconscious urge to be the young man’s friend.

perfect teeth, bright smile

Xinde looked like a young noble: clean-shaven with long black hair, a perfectly symmetrical face, and a square jaw

Zofi

A young woman, lean and tall with straight black hair that rested on her shoulders, was standing at the doorway. She was plainly dressed and had a square face with bangs that covered her forehead. Pretty, but nothing particularly interesting, except for her eyes. They were sharp and intense, and moved about as if she was scanning the room, taking everything in. She was obviously the mapmaker’s daughter, but while Chown wore an air of anxiousness, the young woman looked assertive and carried herself with a hardness that belied her age.

Master Guanshi Kanyu

A tall man near Taishi’s age arrived in the room. He was obviously the master of this school, with a plump, soft face and extremely thick eyebrows. His white hair, pulled back and tied in a neat bun on top of his head, matched his white robe.

Keiro

played the part of a ruffian just as perfectly: bald with a long scar running from the crown of his head down between his eyes, an impressive goatee, and a nose so crooked it whistled every time he breathed

Burandin and Koteuni

, walking hand in hand, found her first. Koteuni’s lips were cut and bleeding, and one of her eyes had swelled shut in a purple knot. Her usually perfect hair, parted directly down the middle and pulled into two short ponytails, was a disheveled mess. Burandin looked even worse. Koteuni’s husband’s bulbous head and queue hairstyle had always made his head appear too large for his rail-thin body, which made the two beautiful knots on the shelf he called a forehead all the more conspicuous

Haaren

still wearing the caravan driver outfit, now blood-splattered. The youngest shadowkill in the group was one Qisami had lured away from a rival cell a year ago because she needed someone who could operate in disguise, and she had thought he was cute. Less so now that his face looked like pulverized meat.

[lysandreslovelygirllore]

Time to info dump about my au: banbash!

This au includes characters from the fandoms listed: Undertale, bendy and the ink machine, poppy playtime, sans aus, creepypasta, MLP, baldi's basics, garten of banban, rainbow friends, Garfield, famous/well known lps videos and characters (ex; lps popular or lps addicted), and scp foundation background shinangins, along with some more animal jam background shenanigans, plus Cuphead.

yes this is serious. I am seriously making an entire au with tons of fandoms. I am seriously doing this. I am honest. I'm deadass. These fuckers will all interact. (As a noteee! Main characters are going to be from only garten of banban and rainbow friends. All the other fandoms will be in the background or will only pop up randomly, as most of them don't live chose to the sillays.)

some notes about garten of banban characters I never touch on or fandom characters!

bendy + huggy wuggy.

bendy is a recovering alcoholic. Huggy is his old friend who always tries to assure he doesn't get back into old habits. They don't live together anymore, but they used to when money was tight. This is when bendy got into rehab via huggy's request. Bendy is always in his taller, lankyer ink form. His ink sticks to his body hard, rarely does it come off, allowing him to wear clothing.

Banbalena + nabnab and nabnabalena

Banbalena is the main person who keeps banban and the spiders in check, as she lives with them. Banbalena is NOT related to or in a relationship with banban, they are an adjacent species, as banbalena is not a demon. Banbalena and banban are very very close and old friends. Nabnab is usually not that active, nabnabalena is slightly more active than him, often chatting with banbalena. The spiders are also very good friends with banban and banbalena, using their rare times of activity to cook and clean. (Nabnabalena is the better cook, as she hoards cooking books constantly.)

Baldi + principal (pretty sure that's his name, if not, I'm just gonna call him that. Nicknamed prince.)

Both are retired teachers. Long time friends who met at college. strictly background characters, they will almost never have a prominent role in the story. Sorry baldi fuckers.

(sanses) dream + nightmare

Dream and co have stopped fighting with the evil gaggle nightmare formed long, long ago. they now chill with one another in a frienemy way, often poking fun at one another. Again, side characters, but these guys will have some major roles here and there.

Garfield + odie

Garfield is now a snow leopard and odie is an artic wolf-dog. Both anthro, both pretty large. Yes, Garfield still loves lasagna and still hates odie. Odie is a classic optimistic puppy-dog type, not fitting at all with Garfield's more melancholy ways of life. They live together and have annoying roommate dynamics. Side characters.

Green + cyan

Green and cyan often train together doing gymnastics. green has scarred, foggy eyes and a short, fluffy coat of green fur. Cyan is more wyvern-like, having wings that double as arms, though their bones are too thick to fly. part of the main cast.

Stinger Flynn + red

Red used to do experiments on himself, earning him sharp claws that he hides constantly behind gloves specialty made for his odd little hands. he has fangs and a long, snake-like tongue, but his mouth is not visible, ever. He and stinger Flynn met and bonded through being nerds about scientific shit. Stinger Flynn is kept to his usual design, except for scars all round his eye. He has a humanoid form that follows the same logic as Squidward, tentacles acting as legs + hands. He has long, flowing hair in this form with one eye to boot. He is rarely in this form, though. Him and red are both retired scientists, whom do not live together. Stinger Flynn and red are the main two who decide if the respective groups go anywhere all together. red lives with all the rainbow friends, though they often leave to do their own thing, but almost always come back.

slow salene + opila bird

Slow salene is a pretty shy one, but does often see the gang when their all met up. She usually visits banbalena in her free time. opila lives with her children and husband, also coming over often to meet with banbalena.

purple + orange

Purple and orange are quite good friends, bonding over how SMALL and STUPID they are. Voices of reason for the rainbow cast right next to red. Purple resembles a hairless cat without ears, a nub tail, and clawed hands in the place of paws. They usually crawl around on all fours, slinking into vents and any other small space they can find. Orange is alligator gar based, having most of the features of a alligator, with the fishy genes of an alligator gar. They have their own pool they are most often seen in. they are the least ticklish out of the rainbow friends. Adores sunbathing.

Theirs tons more characters. Why are they not listed? Here's why: their extremely unimportant background characters, their just not all that interesting as they don't bounce off of any specific characters, they are so important to the story that mentioning them would spoil what I have planned, or I was just too lazy to write it.

Don't judge me for this I swear I'm normal.

RAAAH this took me like 2 hours to make raaaah