#fucking bloodsuckers...-him probably

[bluegiragi]

sitting ducks.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[evilminji]

I just saw a "You have to pick a Consort or we'll pick one for you!" Prompt?

And I must know? CAN they bind someone to Consortship who does not recognize their authority? Like... no really, The King Of The Dead(tm) lawfully would have NO claim upon the Living, unless they consented to his Rule. Not until they... you know... Die.

And in DP's case? Not even THEN is it guaranteed? They could just Peace Out and move on. Skip the Zone completely. So like? IS that a loophole?

A King from Nation A can not legally command citizen of Nation B. They aren't his. Only King B can. Citizen B's may CHOSE to obey King A, to be polite, but the have the RIGHT to say "fuck off, buddy". But if King A was legal cornered and told "pick a Consort Or Else(tm)"? CAN HE?

Like? Can he point to the biggest, toughest, warrior in Nation B (probably standing next to his equally terrifying wife), knowing FULL DAMN WELL this is not going to happen and planning on that, and say "Him. Fetch, you bloodsuckers."

Just FULL-ON pass the buck. And let his political opponents have time to reconsider their stances as they are dying under said warrior's Rightfully Furious Blade?

What I am saying is? Constantine. Superman. Fuck it! Batman too! You want Danny, A TEENAGER, to pick a CONSORT for ETERNITY or you'll FORCE one on him? In what feels like a VERY coercive Bad Touch sorta move?

Fine.

FINE!

He's gonna pull out his phone and look up that list Tucker made of the Magical Weirdos on the Justice League! In FACT! He heard that the Greek gods helped made Wonder Woman! Her too! He's "Consorting" the whole FOUNDING MEMBERS! And the magical ones! It's gonna be a HAREM up in this castle!

Now be good eyeballs and FETCH. He has Kingly Watching Paint Dry to get too. You can't expect HIM to do this? This is YOUR big concern, not his.

(It goes badly for the Observants, I would imagine. Those are grown Adult Heros being told to divorce their loving spouses and marry A CHILD. Or Else.)

( They Choose Or Else. And Unspeakable Violence. Unhand the child, you despicable eyeball faced cretins!)

[somnambulic-thing]

warm like moonshine

vampire boyfriend!Eddie x afab!reader E 18+, smut!!!

Words: 4k

|consensual somnophilia/reader receiving; awake sex; biting/blood drinking; established relationship; oral; piv; exploring intimacy; vampire puns!; fluff, Eddie pov|

A/N: So, well, @courtingchaos put out her leg with this sleepy story (go read) and I tripped over it and fell right into this scenario. I had a lot of vampire!Eddie thoughts lately and playing around with vampire anatomy and what one could get up to with one's very own bloodsucker is a very fun rabbit hole to fall into. :3 Probably not the last thing I wrote in this universe.

Eddie was cold.

Not by Vampire standards, mind, but it wasn’t another Vampire that his freak-of-nature heart was beating for.

It was beating for a human. It was beating for you.

From his past life, Eddie remembered very well how constant cold could grind on a soul inhabiting a body that was hot-blooded and conditioned to flee from it.

But luckily he was only cold unless he did something about it. Finding new ways to do something about it had grown to become one of his favourite pastimes since you came into his life.

His peculiar skin was like smooth polished stone stretched thin and pliable over lean muscle and once he warmed up, much like a slab of granite in the sun, he could hold it for a while. Hours if he had the right insulation.

The sun wasn’t an option for him anymore, no. It was out to erode him if he bared himself long enough to its rays. But a hot bath worked wonders to get warm and cosy for you, or some time spent with a hot water bottle tucked under a blanket.

His favourite way though, was being tucked under you, skin on skin, chests pressed flush together.

It was something divine, feeling his body heat up through the energy radiating from yours. When you eventually had to climb off his lap, leaving him in bed to do some of those things Vampires had no need or urge for, he could press a cool hand to his chest and still feel you with him.

You indulged him in that more often than he should let you. Spending all this time being cold just to be with him.

As feral as he was for basking in you, he just wanted to be hot for you in every way and that right from the start.

So he made a proposal to you.

A way he could fuck you with your own heat without you having to feel cold for one second.

A thought turned into desire during those nights he spent next to your warm, sleeping body with plenty of time to imagine all those things he wanted to do to you.

He was careful in choosing his words, determined to convey that he would rather plunge a stake through his own chest than do anything to injure or violate you; body or soul.

The quickening of your pulse brought no anxiety to your eyes. He hadn’t scared you, more so, you were intrigued and he drew a deep breath of relief. An old habit.

You took time to think it over, to get familiar with the idea and develop your own fantasies while mapping out boundaries. Again and again you asked him to lead you through what had become a shared fantasy now and he gave you everything you asked for and as long as you needed.

He knew he was a dangerous creature, there was no use denying it. Making sure you knew he wasn’t a threat was imperative and your trust the most precious thing he’d ever own.

—

Sunrise was near.

“You coming over tonight?” you asked as you watched him get ready to leave you to the things sunlight-dwellers got up to in the bright hours of the day.

Eddie, about to button his jeans, looked up and over to you seated on the edge of the bed across the room. Something in your voice called the hair on his neck to attention. Your already raised pulse quickened under his gaze. He cocked his head, all his senses reaching out to your body. You suddenly smelled so aroused it was obscene.

“Stop dissecting me, Munson.”

He shook his head to clear it with moderate success.  “Sorry… couldn’t help it.” He laughed deeply, the sound thick and sticky. “I’m putting on my clothes and suddenly you just smell like that—”

“Monster,” you smiled. “Can’t surprise you with anything.”

“Well, that’s not true.” He put his shirt on and crossed the room. It was probably a bad idea to kneel before you now with sunrise so close while you still looked so tousled and sleepy and smelled so sinfully horny, but he did it anyway. Your hand instantly found his face. He was already cooling down and the soft slide of your thumb left a streak of warmth high on his cheek. “You surprise me all the time. It’s just… different.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t trying to pry, promise.”

“I know.” You cocked your head. “So, are you busy tonight?”

“Hmm,” he hummed in affirmation turned his face into your palm and kissed it. “First band, then blood and coffee with Wayne.”

“Oh, right. Okay.”

“You gonna tell me why, sweetheart?”

“No,” you said with an enigmatic smile. It took all of his willpower to draw his ‘antennas’ back from you, but nothing could drown out this smell.

He was getting hungry. He was getting hard.

You bent down and slowly slid your arms around his neck, nails softly scraping the nape of his neck and your forehead found his, hot like a fever. “Not right now anyway.”

“Wow… who is the monster now, hm?”

Your laugh was infectious, had made him sick with adoration for you right from the start. He caught your mouth to get more of it right from the source. Soon he wouldn’t be strong enough to leave.

And you knew it.

“You should go,” you mumbled. Your palms were like hearths against his shoulders, pushing with little determination. “Before I pull you in here and you’re stuck until sunset.”

“Pull me in then, I don’t mind.” He ran his palms up your bare thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.

“Fuuuck, Eddie…”

“’Fuck Eddie’ sounds like a great idea to me.”

“If I fuck you now, you’re not leaving and we both know I get nothing done with you flapping around here and there are plenty of things I need to do today.”

Eddie let his curled-up lips glide over the edge of your jaw all the way to the soft hot spot below your ear where your pulse was a torrent. His teeth were aching.

“I want to do you so bad right now,” he whispered and felt the moan leaving your lungs hot against his shoulder.

“Don’t make me get the garlic.”

“Just one sip from your Holy Water, baby, I know you’re drenched right now—”

You threw your head back and slumped against his chest as you erupted into bellowing laughter.

He’d hoped to make you scream in a different way but he’d take it anyway. Wrapping his arms around you he pulled you to his lap and joined you in your laughing fit.

“Was worth a try,” he chuckled against your collarbone as you both came down.

“You nearly ended me with that one.”

He felt your hot mouth press against his crown and then you leaned back and moved to stand up.

“Oh, cruel world,” he said, more whiny than intended and pushed himself to stand. Outside, the sky was that dim clear blue that was the harbinger of a sunny September day. “Guess I better get going then.” His hands fisted the hem of your shirt and pulled you in for one more kiss.

“Gonna miss you, bat-man.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, hypnotized by the soft, bittersweet melody that was your good-bye voice. “Love you, moonshine.”

—

Eddie mourned your warmth leaving his body as he hurried through slowly awakening streets to outrun the dawn. And oh, how he longed for it when he touched himself in the dark of his room, how he craved it when the high induced by heavy, distorted riffs surged through him like a lightning strike and how he needed it when he stepped outside into a night that was as cold as himself.

Fuck. He was so needy.

So he called Wayne; he would be an hour late today and now Eddie had almost two hours to spare. Determined to spend as many seconds as possible joined with you, he once more hurried along through mostly vacant streets.

—

Eddie wore the key to your place on a chain around his neck together with his favorite guitar pick. He fiddled with it while he took a moment to calm himself before he took it off and slid it into the lock; he had no intention of giving you a jumpscare barging in like a starving beast.

Your smell instantly exploded into his face the moment the door cracked open. He expanded his ribcage to the limit, inhaling the amalgamation that was the scent of your home through flared nostrils as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him and—

Taped to the wall opposite the door was a note.

It was fully dark inside, but Eddie needed no light to read it. Hell, he would have been able to take a good guess about the content just from the scent alone. You had touched yourself before you put it up for him, knowing very well he wouldn’t be able to stay away for long after this morning and the smell of your cunt was all over the paper.

He got hard so fast it was painful.

Eddie let his head drop against the wall, the paper right under his nose. He needed to close his eyes for a moment.

My dear Count,

I invite you in.

You don’t have to wake me first.

I trust you.

I love you

He could hear your slow, even breath call for him from your bedroom.

Eddie stripped naked right on the spot and kicked the heap of clothes that pooled by his feet under the dresser in the hall. He had learned his lesson not to leave tripping hazards in the dark for you the hard way.

The door was ajar, the room behind dimly lit by the waning moon and the street lights outside your window. It was warm in here, unusually so, and Eddie smiled brightly in the dark.

“So clever. Sooo, so clever.”

He silently moved to the foot of the bed. You were turned to your side and almost fully covered but he still took his time studying you. Your features were so soft, all your muscles relaxed and your heartbeat steady and serene.

He started stroking himself slowly, hissing at the touch, while he reached for the covers with his free hand and with a gentle pull, Eddie revealed your bare skin inch by inch.

You had made it easy for him, going to bed naked and wet.

“Oh, sweetheart. What you do to me…”

One knee to the mattress, then the other and then he lowered himself, crawling up your body while the tip of his tongue grazed over the length of your calf and up up to your thigh, over your hip and further up and there you stirred a little.

“I know, it’s cold,” he said, licking his lips, relishing your taste for a moment before he pushed himself up to your ear. “I’m about to change that. Suck up your heat and give it back to you so good. Gonna make you sweat…”

There was no need to whisper. You wouldn’t wake from his words.

It was his special voice he used; the one that could put a vampire’s prey into a trance. It was never without your permission when he spoke to you that way, was reserved for sacred moments like when you let him drink from your blood. .

He gave you just a little dose, just enough to keep you in a slumber. For now.

“No need to rouse yet, my love,” he said as he receded back down your body, peppering your skin with cool kisses. “M’ making sure you’ll wake when it’s time.”

Sitting back on his calves, he smoothed one hand over the curve of your hip in ever-growing circles, your bed-warm skin so hot against his. When the circles reached the meat of your ass, he stilled to gently squeeze you, coaxing a soft, low noise from your lips, making his cock twitch angrily. He wrapped his warmed hand around it and squeezed, oh so desperate to be surrounded by your heat.

“Fuck,” he moaned. “So good…”

He slowly turned you to your back with gentle hands and endless admiration, all his senses as sharp as his teeth, not missing anything. He was greedy to get between your thighs, to spread you open wide before him and drink you in, scent and taste and everything you would give him but this was a matter of slow and gentle things, a time for worship.

There would be time for debauchery soon enough.

Still, he couldn’t bite back the growl rising in his throat when he finally sat between your thighs and why should he? You so loved it when he growled and hissed, when he let out his feral side.

His mouth watered, and his teeth ached as he smoothed his hands up over the hot insides of your thighs, thumbs digging in lightly over where large arteries pumped your blood a little faster now.

“Beautiful,” he muttered. “So fucking divine.”

He lowered himself to his stomach, breathing deep through his nose for the first time since he turned you over.

Your scent made him drool.

Spit dribbled down his chin and to the sheet and Eddie ached to taste you and make you feel good, to mix his spit with your slick but his tongue was still too cold. But his fingers weren’t.

Averting his face from your pussy, he pressed his open mouth to your thigh. Your skin there was so hot, that this wouldn’t take to long and while he licked and sucked and kissed your legs with something else in mind, his thumb found your clit and drew soft circles around it. You sighed, hips stuttering and Eddie bared his teeth, indulging in grazing his fangs over your sensitive skin for a moment as he worked himself up up up and your clit between the slide two fingers.

You were so wet for him.

He moaned and you mewled when he finally sucked one of your swollen lips into his mouth.

“You taste so fucking good,” he almost whined and exchanged his fingers with his tongue. “All of you, just all of you… I want to devour you…” he mumbled into your folds and slid two fingers inside you where your pulse beat fast against the pads of his fingers. He could feel you tense around them as he started to stroke that spot.

You had been closer to the surface for a while and he took short breaks every now and then to talk to you to make sure you didn't came too close to it just yet, but not as deep as you had been when he’d found you. This seemed to be the sweet spot, awake enough for your body to enjoy what he did to you.

He needed to fuck you so bad.

Eddie ground his hips into the mattress, the sheet damp where the tip rubbed against it. He shuffled around and shoved his hand under his own hips, nice and warm from resting under your ass for a while. He groaned into your cunt as his fingers wrapped around his cock, a loud, hoarse sound and you lolled your head to the side, fingers scraping against the sheet.

“Hmm… E-eddie…”

Just an unconscious whisper, featherlight, but enough to break him.

He peeled his mouth away from you with effort and sat up.

“You awake, sweetheart?” he asked as he slid his hands under your knees and brought them up, draping them over his thighs. “No?” he ran his hands down his body, warm from you and the bed.

“Soon… so soon…” Gripping his cock, he ran his tip through your folds, moaning and cursing. “Can’t wait to look into your eyes…” He lined up with your hole and pushed in. Slowly, slowly, ready to retreat at the slightest sign of discomfort. Your brows drew together, your chest hitched and he reached down to softly play with a hard nipple. “Does this feel good?” he asked through his teeth. “You’re making that pretty face… fuck…”

He threw his head back, fully inside you and you still felt so hot, but he was warm and it was time to fuck you awake now. Eddie lowered himself over your chest, resting his forearms on the mattress, the tips of his hair grazing your skin and he slowly rolled his hips in shallow, aimed thrusts. Slow and steady, in and out, in and you sighed and out and your mouth parted and in and you licked your lips and out and your thighs squeezed him. Eddie picked up speed.

“Hmmm…ngh… Ed?”

“There you are,” he said and pushed in deep.

“Ah—“

And again. “Come to me, sweetheart. Join the fun.”

Your hand came up, waving around aimlessly before it landed on his biceps. “F’ck…”

“Good?” He brushed hair off your forehead. You were sweating now, just a thin sheen but he’d just started. “You feel so good—“

“Eddie…” Slow and drawled. “Fuck… what…”

He laughed and picked up speed again. You tilted your hips up and he reached so deep. “Holy fuck—“

“Oh g-god…”

“Look at me.”

You shook your head, both hands gripping his arms tight and a long, high sound swelled in your throat.

“Look at me, baby.”

Weak fists pounded against his shoulders. “M’ tryin’… trying… fuck, Eddie…” You opened your eyes, just a little but enough. “You’re so warm…”

And then he lost it.

He needed to be everywhere, touch all of you, taste all of you and held your chin as he lowered his lips to yours to slide his tongue inside your mouth to let you know what he’d done to you. Your hands in his hair pulled on his roots and he knew you knew-

“Can you taste yourself?”

-and your answer a low strangled moan and his pleasure a deep, viscous laugh before he lowered his chest to yours, his face to the crook of your neck and fucked you fucked you fucked you so deep and right where you liked it loved it needed it.

“You’re so tight, you’re gonna come for me already?”

“So… sensitive…”

“I know, I know… Just let go—“

A silent scream, air rushing violently down your throat and then you were twitching under him, writhing under him. He could feel the electricity rush through you, pull on your muscles and clench down down down on his cock-

“You good, moonshine?”

“Don’t stop!”

“Want another one?”

“Yes yes yes yes…”

So he didn’t stop. His mouth pressed against your pulse he gets you there again, lets you shatter again, picks you up again.

Slowing down he pushed up to look at you, to kiss you and praise you and oh the bliss on your face—

“Bite me.”

He groaned, teeth aching instantly.

“Bite me.”

He slowed down more and more and you smiled triumphantly before you cradled his face and lifted your lips to his and he drew back.

“If you want me to bite you, you’ll have to behave.”

“Just one kiss.”

“You know the routine. I need you to calm down.”

“Just one little kiss.”

He stilled his hips and gave you one little kiss that turned deep and bruising, wet and sharp. You bit his lips, three, four times before he pulled back, moaning your name.

“You’re wicked—“

“Bite me.”

“Nope, not with that heart rate. Not turning you into a fountain.“

“But you want to?”

“What? Drink your blood? Nah, but I’d take a glass of orange juice.”

You laughed, a little snort in there and he dropped his forehead to yours. Hot and sweaty against cool and dry.

A sigh. “Fuck that’s good… I’m so hot…”

“Told you I’d make you sweat.”

Your pretty face was a question mark and he laughed.

“Oh right, you were asleep.” You tensed around his cock, eyes wide and pulse picking up again. “That turning you on?”

“So much.”

“Gonna tell you more later… need you to relax now… I want my treat.”

Noses brushing, lips only grazing, Eddie’s hand on your chest, fingers drumming in sync with your heart. He loved it this way, the moment before he breached your skin, soft and silly and needy. You made it easy to forget the violence behind it.

“I love you,” he said in that special voice. It went straight to your eyes, lids suddenly a little heavy. “You know that, right?”

“I do…” You reached up to his face, index finger pushing at his upper lip and he pulled it back for you, knowing what you wanted. The ache in his fangs, already dull and throbbing picked up when you ran your thumb over them. “You’re beautiful, Eddie.”

He caught your wrist and kissed your knuckles before he let you go to put two fingers to your cheek, turning your face to the side, your chin up.

You trembled. Pulse picking up again. He nuzzled his face to your neck.

“Just a little sting, sweetheart. You like when it stings a little, right?”

A nod. His magic doing its work, calming you down. He grazed your neck with his teeth, drooling on your skin.

“Please.”

It was so easy, the way his teeth sank into you, so fast, in and out, just one two three seconds and then his lips closed around the bite and you flooded his mouth, hot and red and sweet. He moaned. Your hands in his hair and your blood in his mouth and he sucked because he needed more and at the same time rolled his hips for the same reason. Slowly, shallow, like in the beginning when you were just waking up to him fucking you.

“You gonna come for me, Eddie?” you breathed, lifting your hips to meet him.

His rhythm faltered, became erratic, so close so close so close andthe heat in his stomach was almost too much almost unbearable and then—

“Come inside me while you drink me.”

And he did, twitching, growling, thrusting deep deep even deeper inside you. He pulled back from your throat, pressed a palm to the bite while he shook, a thin dribble of red escaping him, black in the dim light and you praised him for ruining another set of sheets.

As soon as he came down enough to keep from shaking, his attention was all yours again. He flexed that muscle right under his jaw and a clear, viscous liquid flooded his mouth. He lifted his palm and let it drip to your neck to spread it with his tongue over the bite marks to stop the bleeding. It was instant. In about an hour, there would be nothing left to see. He hummed deep in his chest and kissed each puncture wound before he raised his head to find your face.

“Smile for me.”

And he did, teeth still dripping in blood and you returned the smile You wound your hand into his hair to pull him close and kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips for the second time tonight.

—

A little later, with your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you, Eddie’s fingers drew nonsense patterns into your skin with a featherlight touch. He still felt high on you, drunk on you, could still taste your blood on his tongue, could feel his cum sticky on his skin where your thigh was draped over him.

He could cry if he could cry.

“Your fingers are getting cold.”

Startled from his bliss he sighed and lifted his hand.

“Didn’t tell you to stop… feels nice.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair and resumed. Your voice was getting drowsy now.

“How do you feel, sweetheart?”

“M’ tired.” As if in confirmation, you yawned.

“I mean about tonight.”

“Oh,” you stirred, turning your face up to him. “Feelin’ good. Really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-hm… I’d like to do that again,” a pause, “if you like.”

“God, yes.”

“You’re such a cliche… better go check your vampire bingo card…”

You both broke into giggles, soft and warm in the darkness, but yours faded soon as your breath slowed down.

“You’nna stay?” you drawled.

“Yeah, of course. Going nowhere tonight.”

“Good,” he felt you smile against his chest. “What abou’ Wayne?”

“Gonna call him when you’re asleep. Don’t worry.”

He was almost sure you hadn’t really heard his answer anymore, your body feeling asleep again. But then you surprised him.

“Ed?”

“Yeah?”

“You don’t have to wake me before sunrise…”

[morallyinept]

Pedro Boys & Cocktails 🍹

More Pedro Boy fun! I've not included measurements because we all like our drinks at varying strengths, so you can tailor make them to your liking.

Drink responsibily folks! 🥴

Also, check out Drinkingpedro on IG for some amazing original drinks, inspired by Pedro & his characters. The account is super fun! Give them a follow. (This was some of my inspiration for this Pedro Boys Cocktail ramble.) Cheers! 🖤

Francisco Morales - 'The Morales Muff Diving Experience' - Crown Royal whiskey, peach schnapps, peach puree, sour mix, lemonade. Open your legs, hermosa. Standard Heating Oil cap optional.

Oberyn Martell - 'The Skull Crusher' - Freshly squeezed blood oranges from Dorne (or your local grocery store if you're unable to sail to Westeros), vodka, lime juice, cointreau, blood orange pulp to top. You know, crushed brain chunks.

Ezra - 'The Wordy Birdie' - Vodka, tequila, white rum, gin, cointreau, lemon juice, simple syrup, Midori, soda water. Served with a case of looted Aurelac gems. Tastes even better with one arm - tingly. Loquacious rambling guaranteed.

Joel Miller - 'Molotov Cocktail' - Empy bottle, handkerchief doused in flammable liquid of choice, or whatever is avaliable when the world has gone to shit. Ignite. Launch at clickers. Watch them go boom. Instant mushroom soup. Nom.

Dieter Bravo - 'The Bola Hair Hold' - Brandy, vodka, absinthe, gin, whiskey, blackberry liqueur. Shake it all up and hope for the fucking best, although you will probably die. Make sure Bola is avaliable to hold your haaaaair as you weep into the fetid toilet bowl.

Javier Peña - 'The Loredo Legspreader' - Gin, lemongrass, lemongrass syrup, fresh lime juice, red Thai chilli to garnish. Serve with a cigarette and a sour resting bitch face. Sweaty pink shirt optional.

Marcus Moreno - 'The Upstaged Father' - Cherry vodka, lemonade, blue curaçao, coconut vodka, mango rum, grenadine, simple syrup, crushed ice, orange slices to garnish. Drink alone in a corner, daydreaming about your heyday as leader of The Heroics, before your 11 year old daughter stole your limelight. Bitters optional.

Pero Tovar - 'Black Powder' - Dark rum, dry vermouth, blackberry liqueur, splash of lime juice, blackberries to garnish. Serve on dry ice for that smokey effect. Then betray your closest friend.

Max Phillips - 'The Bloodsucking Bastard' - Chambord raspberry liqueur, cranberry juice, Prosecco or sparkling wine. Don't worry, these vamps don't sparkle. Vodka. Splash of lime juice. Place on a post-it note and serve to your boss. Brace yourself for imminent fangs.

Marcus Pike - 'The Boyfriend Cardigan' - Vanilla vodka, passion fruit liqueur, passion fruit puree, lime juice, vanilla simple syrup, Prosecco or sparkling wine. Serve to your sweetheart FBI boyfriend, the, very, very goody cop. Although, give him a few of these and then play some good cop/bad cop. It's cuffin' season afterall.

Comandante Veracruz - 'The Guerilla Freestyle' - Dark rum, Campari, orange curaçao, simple syrup, pineapple juice, freshly squeezed lime juice, pineapple wedges and leaves to serve. Use to barter for your freedom. Or not, whatever.

Din Djarin - 'The Space Daddy' - Gin, maraschino liqueur, Crème De Violette, fresh lemon juice, crushed ice and edible glitter for the swirly galaxy look. Might need to remove your helmet when consuming. Keep away from The Kid. This is the - hic! - way.

Silva - 'The Ol' Western BJ' - Irish cream liqueur, Kahlúa, Amaretto, whipped cream to top. Serve in a red bandana covered shot glass. Drink naked from the waist down.

Agent Whiskey - 'The Unfortunate Cowboy' - Bourbon whiskey, Southern Comfort, lemon and lime juice, watermelon juice. Do not operate mincing machinery whilst under the influence. Tuck your lasso in. Watch your step there, cowboy.

Dave York - 'The Suburban Murder Daddy' - Mezcal, sweet vermouth, Campari, soda water, splash of lime juice, orange peel twist to garnish. Drink quickly to tie up your loose ends. Try not to lose an eye in the process.

Javi G - 'The Paddington' - Fresh, warmed milk served in a glass. Marmalade sandwich on the side. Alcohol free. It's past Javi's bedtime. Sssh.

Maxwell Lord - 'The Booty Clap' - Amaretto almond liqueur, Alizé Gold Passion liqueur, Hennessey Cognac. Shaking your booty like this whilst drinking is compulsory:

BONUS!!

Pedro Pascal - 'Purple Rain, d'uh' - Vodka, gin, blue curaçao, splash of cherry sourz, grenadine, lemonade, lemon juice. Try not to blub whilst dancing in the purple rain.

🖤

[batwritings]

okay here me out! Hybrid au where reader is recruited into 141 and they’re all hybrids, like price is dragon, ghost a wraith, gaz a crow harpy, and last but not least soap is a werewolf. It’s pretty much common knowledge that wolves and vamps don’t mix, so when reader and soap first meet they despise each other, hate each other fr. Reader calls soap a dog, puppy, mongrel or mutt and soap calls reader a leech, bloodsucker and wtv. Now all this bickering leads to somewhere spicy, maybe all that hatred was actually sexual tension 🤷🏻‍♀️ heated and rough sexual tension to be exact. Alright thank u for listening in<3333

Sorry this one took so long friend! This is really similar to an AU that's out there for CoD and I wanted to be sure it was alright with that artist to write something with their concept. But without further ado, enjoy!~

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

It was common knowledge within the hybrid community the bad blood (no pun intended) between vampires and werewolves. So when Price made the decision to add you to the team, you and Soap were immediately in an understanding. While yes, in front of higher ups things were kept professional, everyone could practically feel the tension in the room when you were both in there.

Yet nobody could quite tell just what kind of tension it was. See, it was very clear that, due to being the species you were, there was something negative between you and the Scottish sergeant. However it was also blatantly obvious that the two of you did hold some sort of strange fondness for the other.

"Nice work today leech," Soap chuckled, passing you after a mission debriefing. You rolled your eyes so hard anyone who saw you would probably think they'd roll back into your head. You set your gun back in it's locker, slamming the door.

The mission hadn't exactly gone...poorly. The job got done at the end of the day, but there were quite a few screws that went loose. The fact that they were by your hands didn't help the matter by any means.

"You got something to say mutt?" You growled, crossing your arms defiantly. Your day hadn't exactly been the best and you knew Soap knew this. You weren't exactly in the mood for the lapdog's "cutesy little pet names" as Price affectionately called it. You swore that dragon was delusional.

Much to your irritation, Soap was quick to get in your personal space. He had his arms above yours, all but pinning you to the lockers behind you. "I dunno, mate, do you?" Now you knew good and well that "mutt" was Soap's least favorite little nickname you'd given him, so his actions weren't a surprise.

What was a surprise however, was the fact that you could smell the pheromones on him. Being this close to you was turning him on, making you quirk an eyebrow. "Maybe I do puppy," you smirked, reaching down and boldly palming his erection. "You first."

Soap inhaled sharply, growling lowly as you touched him. His clawed hands came forward, swiftly pinning your free hand to the metal of the locker. He juts his knee up, making it and his thigh rub up against your sex.

It's your turn to blush, hand moving more intentionally now to make him harder. You let out a soft whine when he starts to rock himself back and forth, stimulating you. Bodies are moving on their own now, pure instinct driving the interaction.

You're not sure when you ended up kissing him, or when the two of you stripped from the waist down. But here it was, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, the werewolf that drove you absolutely insane, was helping hold you up as he fucked you against the lockers. You had your arms locked around his neck, nails scratching at the base of his ears as you praised him with soft moans of "good boy," over and over.

"So good," he groaned, claws digging slightly into the soft flesh of your ass as he fucked you roughly. A particularly sensitive spot gets brushed by the head of his cock and it has you letting out a keen of pleasure. Combined with the tugging of his knot against your hole, you knew you wouldn't be lasting long.

It was so rough, raw, and hot, the two of you nearly forgot where you were. Each of you was lost in a haze of pleasure, your noises quiet save for the slapping of skin and slight shuddering metal. You drew yourself closer the more you inched towards your climax to nip at his neck, barely nicking the skin to lap at his blood.

"Close dove, I'm close," Soap growls, his previous rhythm lost to the urges and instinct to breed you as his knot slipped inside you. The extra insertion and attempts to keep yourself from completion meant you could only nod dumbly as a sign you were fine with him coming inside you. With a howl that he muffled against your shoulder, he finished, the two of you locking together where you ended and he began. You weren't far behind, head smacking slightly into the metal as you came, drawing your own blood as you tried to keep yourself quiet.

You and the sergeant panted heavily as you came down from your respective highs. The brunette's tail was wagging ever so slightly behind him and you couldn't help but chuckle. There was a lightness in your chest that you couldn't place, but it was certainly nice to not feel at your teammate's throat for once.

"While the show was appreciated," came a voice that seemed to materialize from the shadows. Ghost appears to your right, body shifting out of his Wraith form as he leans against the locker room door frame. "Next time, maybe pick somewhere a little more secluded to work out your anger issues eh?" Both you and Soap couldn't help but flush in embarrassment.

"Sorry L.T."

[formosusiniquis]

when you're fifteen

Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."

It is and isn't a surprise.

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington & Mike Wheeler WC: 4044 | Rated T | Tags/Themes: Good Babysitter Steve, Period Atypical Depictions of DnD, HoH!Steve, Disabled!Eddie Ao3

Eddie prided himself on his ability to manage a table. A forever DM, four years into a lifetime sentence, he can keep a story on track and, more importantly, keep tempers in check for hours at a time. 

He kept track of a thousand little details across notebooks, binders, and just trapped in his own brain. He knew everything about his NPCs, the world, his player’s characters, and the things that drove his players nuts. He had plans, backup plans, and vague ideas of shit he could do if things went completely and totally off the rails despite all of those plans. That was one of the things he held fast on his tongue the first time he failed senior year. Of course he didn’t pass. He’d taken on the mantle of Dungeon Master. He had to put together a story that took into account: Jeff’s high stakes backstory with the missing mother and bounty on his head, Gareth’s need to flirt with anything age appropriate that had a pulse, and Joey’s tactical mind when it comes to battle. Wasn’t it enough that he was going to class, he had to do shit at home about it too?

He didn’t like saying it. He liked to bitch about it a lot, actually. Eddie wasn’t really sure what he’d do with himself if he wasn’t The DM. It was like a core part of his identity.

It made the current situation he was in more world rocking than he really wanted to deal with.

He liked to think, if he couldn’t feel the remaining muscles in his side screaming in agony because he was sitting wrong -- or for too long or both -- and if his lower back wasn’t seizing and spasming for the same or maybe a brand new reason it had decided to come up with today, that he’d be able to manage this table just as well as he always had. Eight really wasn’t that different from three.

Except that combat is impossible to manage, each round took forever and that’s when everyone was paying attention. Except that there hasn’t been a satisfying story moment for Jeffrey the Jovial or Dustin’s Sir Rathington in the last four sessions. Except that Erica has been scribbling something in her notebook that probably wasn’t campaign notes since she hadn’t called him on the plot hole he caught session planning a month ago and hasn’t been able to fix -- and is more likely to have something to do with the way he noticed her looking at Uhura and Chapel when she was watching Star Trek reruns with Steve.

Except that Mike has been screaming at Dustin and Lucas for the better part of five minutes and Eddie really isn’t sure how to fix it.

“The plan is stupid. Did you even spend more than ten seconds thinking about it or did you decide that Will could just roll another character and we could save the resources.”

“Will could roll another character. It's not the first time he's rolled another character.” Lucas points out for what might be the third time, Eddie’s lost count.

“This whole thing is about resources, Mike.” Dustin snaps, “We’ll all be rolling new characters if we go into this stupid fucking fight while Gareth has no spell slots, Lucas is down to three arrows, Joey’s already used his second wind, and half the party is below half health.”

“It doesn’t matter, if we don’t go into the fight now Will is going to turn into some bloodsucking vampire spawn.”

Eddie knows this is the point that he should grab the reins again. He should prompt one of them to make a decision, or better yet, take the decision away from them entirely. But there’s a numbness in his thigh that has somehow spread to his mouth; it’s different from the pain the rest of his body is in, not really better or worse, and just as distracting. 

The rest of the table is quiet, boredom and annoyance plain on their faces. But they’ve also stopped looking to him to fix the problem. That’s the worst thing the Upside Down took from him, he thinks, even as his body is radiating pain from places he used to be able to forget he had.

“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Lucas points out. And it should be, but Lucas is a far better tactician than Eddie who already knows he won’t want to deal with the work it would take to do that well. “Y’know since you made all your weak spots pretty clear to Lord Ellias.”

“Or,” Dustin drawls out with a Harrington’s level of bitch and ire, “we could trust Eddie to turn this into a fucking story moment.”

“You guys are both so full of shit, just-” Mike has his nose curled and lip snarled, Eddie can feel the breeze of the blade swinging down to deliver the death blow to this campaign and adventuring party.

“Alright time to take a break.” Steve claps his hands, an angel come from on high to save Eddie. “Get up, get a snack, move your feet. Give my dining room some time to air out before it smells like nerd forever.”

Mike turns the full weight of his aggression on to Steve, who hopefully has a damage immunity or advantage on saves at the very least otherwise this is looking like a short talk, “We can't just take a break. Do you not get what the stakes are here? We've got to save-”

“Save someone who will still be in danger in twenty minutes.” Steve steamrolls over Mike’s argument with an unaffected ease. Eddie can feel the mood of the table lift just a bit, now that they’re about to be rescued.

“You just don't get it.”

“I get that it's pretend.” In a pre-Vencapocalypse world that would have been enough to get Eddie fighting on Little Wheeler’s side, but much as DnD is still his life. Fuck, it is all just pretend. “Go take a lap.”

“Ugh why do we even come over here. We could do this at my house without washed up jocks interrupting us.” Mike says but he gets up. Storming off to god knows where in the monstrosity of Steve’s house. Will, quiet as he always seems to get when he’s the center of one of these drag outs, trails off after Mike with an eye roll at the other two sophomores and an apologetic shrug for Steve.

And Eddie has his table again. Quiet and still, waiting for him to say something. Like there’s even anything to say when his very own Deus Ex Machina is leaving the room without so much as a backward glance at the poor schmucks he’s saved. “Well,” he says with a clap of his hands, “My blood sugar is dropping, so I’m going to shove as many of those cookies I smelled earlier into my mouth as I can in twenty minutes.” Because as much as they weren’t looking to him before, they need the DM to break the spell of the table. That’s how the whole thing goes.

And they scatter once it breaks. Eddie’s original Hellfire boys stay at the table, their ease at the Harrington house has been hardwon and the argument has rekindled something nerdy and skittish in them. Erica has headed off to the corner of the house Steve has let her claim as her own, nose still buried in her notebook. He doesn’t know where Lucas and Dustin are, but wherever they’ve gone they aren’t around to watch him struggle to pull himself out of his throne with his cane. He should just give in and let Steve raise the seat, half the problem is that it sits too low -- but knowing that and being willing to admit it at any point other than when he’s in PT levels of misery from pulling himself up are very different things.

Steve has his back to the door again, by the time Eddie makes his way to the kitchen. He has a bizarre semi-awareness of his surroundings that can be hard to predict. Sometimes it’s freaky how Steve can call out Dustin or Erica from a different room with an almost parental ‘eyes in the back of his head’ sixth sense. Other times his own soulmate can get the drop on him, managing to get her arms wrapped around his middle before he even realizes they’re in the same room.

It’s better to slam his cane against the floor a couple times. To let Steve feel the vibrations through the floorboards with his sock feet, that way nobody has to get hurt or feel guilty for doing the hurting.

Getting to see Steve’s grin bloom across his face as he flips that famous hair and catches sight of Eddie isn’t so bad either.

Next to Steve, it’s safe to prop his cane against the counter. He can rest his hips against the sure, solid surface and relax in the presence of his boyfriend while the blood returns to his limbs and a new kind of discomfort settles in. A hand, warm and sudsy finds the back of his neck. A strong thumb digging into a knot that had been there since at least last week with an erotic precision.

“You’ve got to stop letting them keep you in that chair for so long.”

"If we take breaks we'll just be here longer."

He shrugs, pulling his other hand from the dish water to pull Eddie into a gentle hold. "So be here longer."

"You'd get sick of the fighting. I'd get sick of the fighting." Actually it was probably better not to remind Steve of that. "You know I really did want one of those famous Stevie Henderson cookies."

Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."

It is and isn't a surprise. "I know the yelling is a lot, Sweetheart, I'm sorry. You don't have a migraine, do you? I can talk to him and make him chill out a bit." That last part is absolutely a lie; he doesn't think he could get Mike under control right now if he had a stun gun and half a pound of Argyle’s primo Cali weed.

Not that it matters Steve has on his scrunchy faced 'you're wrong about something,' look, Eddie just needs to give him the minute it'll take to get his thoughts together. "You know I love you right?"

“In this dimension and any others,” Eddie supplies.

Steve smiles, feather soft, and runs a soothing hand through Eddie's hair the way he always does right before he says something atrociously bitchy. "I turn my hearing aids off the second you all start playing. If I had to listen to your game three different times, three different ways I'd drive my car into a portal."

He keeps going the way he does when he's afraid he's been too mean and wants to try to soften his edges for general consumption, like Eddie hadn't fallen in love with him the first time he called Dusin a butthead. "This way you and Dust can still use me as a sounding board for your plots and theories and I don't have to listen to my favorite nerds try to remember if 5+7 is 11 or 12."

“So what’s?”

“I’m worried about him!” Steve insists. Eddie might pride himself on his ability to handle a table, but he knows Steve is proud of his way with the kids. His relationship with each of them is rich and distinct, the way he handles each of them unique.

But it’s Mike.

Something must cross his face. He can only call it something, because he’s honestly not sure what emotion he’s feeling other than headache and how many cookies can I eat before they start tasting like nausea. But something else must have been there that causes Steve to cross his arms and glare.

“Yeah, of course, you’re worried about him. We are worried about him. Why are we worried about him, other than worried about what an asshole he’s been lately?”

That was not the right thing to say either, Eddie’s really rolling straight ones today. Steve’s glare shutters even further closed, and seriously it’s Mike. The same kid who called Steve a washed up jock not ten minutes ago. Who takes every single offered opportunity, and even some that he makes himself, to bitch and glare at Hawkins own #1 babysitter and monster hunter. 

“He’s a teenager with more trauma than a ‘Nam vet. But even if he weren’t he’s not an asshole for being barely fifteen and not knowing when to shut the hell up. Do you remember the kind of shit you were saying back then?”

Big brother Steve has successfully landed a critical hit. Eddie does remember the kind of shit he used to say. Just like he knows Steve remembers the kind of shit he used to say. And they both remember the shit that they used to say to one another. How Eddie called Steve a braindead future Reganite who wouldn’t know good taste if it spit in his mouth. How Steve had called Eddie a tryhard that was so desperate to be different because that was the only way he could hide having nothing to offer.

“So we’re worried?”

“I just don’t want him to say something he can’t walk back because he forgot the thing he’s getting upset over is pretend.” He runs a finger down Eddie’s splayed hands. A tickling sensation he can feel down the path it traces from the back of his palm and down his middle finger and, in a phantom mirror, down his spine. “I know you get into your characters, or whatever, I’m sure this is bringing up a lot of memories but he’s going to regret lashing out if it means he pushes away Dustin or Lucas or one of the other guys.”

“I notice you left out Will.”

“Yeah well, Will is more likely to get hurt by something he says when lashing out while they aren’t playing exposure therapy the game. I mean seriously, you had to kidnap him? That’s where your, ‘Stevie, baby, what should I do with them this week? They decided to do something stupid,’ bitching and moaning landed you?”

Eddie doesn’t even really have time to let himself feel the fluttery, squishy feeling he wants to feel -- cause Steve does actually listen when they’ve got their feet tangled on the sofa together, each working on their own things -- before it’s getting smacked by down by the paladin of his heart. “No, no, that isn’t where I landed. I had a perfectly acceptable diplomacy mission prepared, with a back up fight that they were supposed to run away from. What do you want me to do, Sunshine? I gotta give the game some stakes. It’s not exactly fun for Will if he knows he’s indestructible.”

Maybe, he thinks, he should just stop talking today. Just cancel the rest of the session entirely. Will gets carried off by the vampire spawn, half dead and unsaveable, the party on its last legs, unable to agree on a course of action; and actually that’s where we’re gonna end things come back next week and hope Steve even lets us in the house after the screaming we’ve all done. Why? Because he can feel every joint in his body and every one of them is in pain. Because there’s been the dull throb of a low grade headache beating an even pulse in his temples since he woke up this morning. But mostly because every time he opens his stupid fucking mouth to talk Steve stops touching him, and that sucks absolute balls.

“I maybe had an idea,” Steve says. His voice dips and slides while he keeps his hands small, quiet, and close to his chest. Something Robin told him, and he’s now noticing, means Steve has thought about this idea a lot, long enough that he’s convinced himself it’s bad. Eddie’s noticed that even when these ideas aren’t phrased well, they’re never bad.

“I know it’s like rule number one: don’t split the party,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes when he says it, an instinctive bit of brotherly mockery of Dustin, he would guess. “But what if you split the group a bit. Mike can go after Will, I’m sure Erica would be down to kill some vampires. She loves a chance to test drive her new feats and shit. Then Jeff and Dustin and whoever else can finish up that thing? With the missing girlfriend or whatever? And once that’s done they reunite to do whatever’s next on the list, save the kingdom.”

Eddie sits with that for a bit.

Impulsive is still his middle name, but sometime between being eaten alive by other dimensional hell creatures and getting a thousand and six tiny, itchy stitches removed he’s started giving things second and even third thoughts. Though in this case the second thoughts are less ‘is this a good idea’ and more ‘will Steve bend me over that solid oak dining table and critique my DM notes while he rails me.’

As his stomach swoops, his lower body twinges in a much less enjoyable way. Letting him know that now he’d been standing too long, or leaning against the counter the wrong way, or maybe something else entirely that made his legs tired of doing one of the few things they were made to do. 

Figures he finally lands a hot boyfriend and he's got chronic pain keeping him from getting his dick wet.

“If you’ve already got another idea-”

“No,” he rushes to assure Steve, who needs to stay confident in his own ideas for all kinds of reasons but right now mostly so he’ll be willing to play into this new fantasy of Eddie’s once his body is willing to cooperate with the standing and the bending it’s going to require. “No, it’s a fantastic idea. I’m plotting as we speak.” 

And that isn’t a total lie. Forever DM, he can think about all the fun ways the love of his life and reason he’s still living could degrade his current campaign -- An oath of vengeance paladin questing to save a lost love, isn’t that a little played out. Oh wow, rat swarms in a dungeon, they’re never gonna see that coming -- and figure out how to trick the group into thinking splitting the party was their own idea.

“How long,” he asks his resident child expert, “do you think it would take Will to roll up a new character?”

The smile that tips the corners of Steve’s face is the best part of his day. “Will always has an extra character rolled up with the rest of his stuff in his folder."

Things are slotting together in his head now, and as Steve's hands come around to do something magical in a spot on his back that probably has a name but mostly makes his legs feel like they should really belong to a baby deer.

“So Will…”

“Can convince Mike, and get a chance to try out the new thingy he built. He’s been waiting to talk to you about it.”

Eddie’s getting excited now, hands shaking in the good way. He doesn’t even care that his knee locks as he tries to bounce on his toes, just lets his hands get out the excited energy. “And the band can go do the story side plot shit I’ve been putting off…” 

“With Dustin,” Steve reminds, “cause he’ll want to go wherever there’s the best chance to stir up shit. You already know Erica is going to go where there’s a chance to prove she’s the best at fighting, Lucas too. Not the fighting thing. He’ll go to round out the group, and so his mom doesn’t have to worry about keeping track of one more thing on the family calendar.”

“You’re a genius, Sweetheart.” He snags Steve by the collar, ignoring his bitching that the two fingered pinch he’s got it in is going to stretch it out, and pulls him close. Pressing a kiss on the corner of his perfect boyfriend’s pleased little smile. “I gotta go talk to Will about this character.”

“Send Mike down when you do?”

He’s surprised when he gets no argument, barely gets acknowledgement, when he finds Will and Mike in the guest bathroom and separates them. Mike slips from the room with nothing but a backward glance at Will, who smiles supportively. Once he clears the room, it takes next to zero prompting to get Will to talk about his backup character. The ‘thingy’ he'd been working on a tricked out ranger build that's going to annihilate. 

There's something fresh, brightening, about Will's enthusiasm for the character that infects Eddie too. It gets him excited, for the first time since everyone arrived, to sit down around their over crowded table and play the hour of set up it's going to take to get the party ready to be split. 

And Will doesn't duck his head anymore when Eddie pushes at him and his DnD expertise, he just pushes back. Together they work out a couple tweaks that will make the build fit better in the party, flesh out a backstory that they can integrate even if it doesn't end up going anywhere, and it doesn't really feel like time passes at all. Until Sinclair is sticking his head through the door, surprise artfully hidden at who he finds, as he asks if they're ready to go.

Mike is conspicuously absent from the table when Eddie makes his way to it, and that won't do at all. He's not an asshole, he's just 15. Something like shame crawls up the back of his throat as Steve's reminder sounds in his head. He remembers 15 and the things he said but more than that, as he looks around the table, he remembers being the last to arrive at a hangout of people you're already worried hate you only to find them having a good time without you. 

Eddie has always prided himself on his ability to run a good session. "Stevie, gimme back our paladin, do I need to bring in a hostage negotiator."

A cookie held in one hand while the other smooths down the ruffled fringe of his bangs, Mike re-enters the dining room. The back of his Hellfire shirt is bunched and, if that weren't sign enough he'd been on the receiving end of a perfect Harrington hug, he looks settled. A smile tugging at his face that Eddie hadn't realized how much he missed, he looks boyish and happy and if Eddie didn't before he understands Steve's mission to keep these kids kids by whatever means necessary.

"Alright, now where were we?” He says once Mike is back in his seat beside Will, “Ah yes, you all watch in horror as the vampire spawn, hastened, dash away from you all with the unconscious, but still alive, body of Sir William the Wizened." Before anyone can restart the shouting, and he knows there will be shouting now that they’ve all had a chance to look over their notes and their character sheets, he barrels on. “From the hill behind you comes a shot. An arrow flies, thwip thwip. It slices between you all, before sinking into the back of one of the spawn at the back of the pack. He stumbles to the ground and the rest of the pack leave him to die.”

“We can interrogate him!” 

“Worry about who’s behind us, dude.”

He doesn’t let Mike or Dustin derail him, Eddie continues, “As you turn the hill behind you is nothing but mist. You all know the range of an elven bow, but whoever fired it is nowhere to be seen. You wait, breath held, as a figure all in black slowly approaches. You get the feeling you see him now only because he wants to be seen.

“Will, describe your new character for us!”

[blacklegsanjiii]

I keep cutting your name out cuz you're hiding literal gold in the tags and idk if u wanna be named so please feel free to actually just dump on the post. Oh my fucking gods this so good.

Sanji has definitely stolen Crocodile's hook and left a note with Doffy's new number and Xs and Os on it. He's probably tried to light Boa Hancock on fire to see what would happen. Sanji has definitely stuck at least four variations "blow me/glow me" signs on Kizaru. He has definitely offered to give Aokiji a lobotomy cuz of his ice powers he, in Sanji's coced out brain of his, has to have an ice pick on him at all times.

Mihawk showing up to the Baratie before the Strawhat crew and is talking to Sanji and asks him if he has a twin and Sanji is just like "nah, I got three brothers and they're mutants in Germa, your usual wine?" And Mihawk is just trying to deal with that information when he watches Sanji do like five lines after he gets his wine. This fucking kid that used to call him 'bloodsucker' and has propositioned at least every warlord but Croc. Mihawk probably almost took him up on it til he found out how old Sanji was. Mihawk distinctly remembers one warlord party where Sanji managed to convince Moria to let him tattoo him with a seastone needle and it was a fucking artfully done dick that Mihawk actually complimented Sanji on it and he goes "thanks, if they were bad Doffy and the others would beat the shit out of me." And Mihawk is reeling that that is somehow a priority for a man who runs most auction houses and is working on creating artificial devil fruits and shit but is somehow so on point that he actually asks Crocodile if he has any interest in taking Sanji in and Crocodile is like "no, he's a monster, he's a mini Doffy."

Sanji is definitely more suave and put together at 21 but he is just as drugged up as he was and smokes like a fucking chimney if not like Centralia Pennsylvania. Jinbei joining the crew after Fishman Island is just staring Sanji with such concentration. Sanji looks at him and is like "so is the Fishman two dick thing true or????" And Jinbei fucking laughs so hard he can't function. Sanji is like "hey, no one ever took me up on the shit I offered in Warlord meetings" and Jinbei is like "you were a child! You're still a child to me! We aren't doing anything!" And Sanji sticks his fucking tongue out at him.

Law finding out Sanji is Doffy's kind of son when he rescues Sanji during his fight with Doffy and then not being able to find out more about it until fucking Wano when he also finds out Sanji is Stealth Black and has coce on him? He's sold for this blond traumatised man. They're talking and doing lines and everyone is like "are they okay???" And Jinbei is like "ah, so Sanji did not mention his time being Doflamingo's son and trying to proposition men twice his age and height some times, the dick he put on Gecko Moria is still one of the best tattoos I've ever seen" and Robin is like "you should have seen Alabasta when Sanji said he was coming with friends" and Jinbei loses it again.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

vampire!dave mustaine x reader | word count: 4120 | ao3 link

It was inebriating, how completely surrendered to him you were. How fragile, and warm, and wanting.  How human.

✦ on this fic: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!reader, +18, language, romance, mxf sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, blood mention, blood drinking

✦ a/n: It's October! And in honor of spooky month I came up with this one-shot. It's my first time writing directly in English (I usually write in my language and translate it) so I hope it's written okay. Hope you like it, feedbacks are welcome! ❤

You and Dave had an agreement.

You were close, but not too close. You both knew you could rely on each other no matter what, but you also knew there was something deeper, something you never had the guts to admit. You held onto the hope that one day the stars would align and things would magically fall into place. 

But then came the incident.

You'd always prided yourself on being unshockable, even in the wild streets of '89 LA. So when he showed up at your door looking like he'd been through a meat grinder, your first thought was that he’d probably gone and overdone it with the drugs again. It was becoming a familiar routine, taking care of him when nobody else cared. With a heavy sigh, you let him in, helping him stay on his feet and noticing how cold his skin felt.

"Dave, seriously, this time we might need to call a doctor."

"Nah," he grunted, voice strained. "No doctors. I'm good."

"What the hell happened to you?" You grabbed his hand and plopped down beside him. Whatever he'd taken this time, it was way gnarlier than his usual drug trips, and that's saying something. Dave looked like he was on the verge of sweating bullets even though it was a hot LA night. He was feverish, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead while he shook like a leaf. It should've been balmy, but if you judged by his icy-cold skin, you'd think it was the middle of winter.

"I got goddamn turned, that’s what happened" he hissed through clenched teeth, his whole body convulsing with pain. You took a step back, heart pounding like crazy. Well, that was one curveball you hadn't seen coming. Vampire attacks had become rarer than a sober rock star in the last few decades, but they still happened. You had a cousin who got bit a few years back, but luckily, the doctors managed to suck out the venom in the nick of time. That memory kicked you into high gear as you scrambled to find your damn keys.

"Dave, seriously, we gotta get you to the hospital. Maybe there's still a chance..."

"No, man, there's no damn time!" He yelled, desperate, and you just stared at him, totally stunned. "They made me drink their fucking blood. It's a done deal, I'm a fucking monster now, no way back from this!"

Your heart plummeted. Real-life vampire transformations weren't as simple as the movies and comics made them out to be. You had to get jabbed with vampire venom and guzzle some vampire blood almost right after to make it work. Plus, those bloodsuckers could choose whether to shoot their venom or just chow down on their victims.

So that meant the turnings were pretty much always on purpose.

Once it was done, it was game over.

You inched closer to Dave, your heart heavy as you gazed at the man you'd been secretly crushing on for ages. It was too painful, watching him suffer like this. You'd always held onto that hope that the stolen glances, the way you looked out for each other, and the sheer joy you found in each other's company would someday turn into something more than just friendship.

But right now, it felt like you were on the verge of losing him. Vampires weren't exactly welcome in human society; they were straight-up predators, destined to lurk in the shadows and strike when the night fell. If Dave had gone down that dark path, maybe it was time to say goodbye to the days of you two being together.

But you couldn't let that happen. You couldn't let him suffer, wounded, scared, and all alone.

Because you had an agreement.

You knew you could rely on him; he knew he could always count on you.

Dave's eyes widened as you got closer, extending your wrist toward him. He stared at you, confusion and hunger swirling in his dilated pupils. 

"Drink," you whispered, your voice trembling. He shook his head, looking horrified by the suggestion, but you closed the gap even more. "Please. You need this, Dave. You need me."

You shut your eyes and turned your head away as his hunger took over, and he sank his teeth into your skin.

It was one of those nights, the usual routine. You'd roll in from work, and there was Dave, chilling on your bed in the pitch-black room. You hadn't laid eyes on him for days, but you knew the drill. He hated having to feed, hated hurting people, but he couldn't seem to find any other way around it. Except for one option: you.

Dave had initially refused to feed on your blood ever since he had almost killed you, that night many months ago. You'd tried helping him find some alternative, but turns out, it was a way tougher gig than you'd thought. Animal blood did nothing for his thirst, and he wasn't skilled enough yet to drink from people without going overboard and killing them — or getting dangerously close to it.

The best you could come up with was nabbing a sip from folks who'd just kicked the bucket, but that meant finding fresh corpses without drawing any heat, and that was easier said than done. Maybe for him, it was a walk in the park, but for you, a regular human, helping him sneak into hospitals and morgues after dark was a recipe for disaster. Dave didn't want you caught up in the mess, or worse, in jail, because of him.

In the end, offering up your blood was the easier fix if he didn't want to go full-on vampire and start killing people. It was the one way he could hold onto a tiny shred of his former human self. At the beginning, it was rough on him, no doubt about it. You watched him suffer, saw how terrified he was of losing control.

But with time, he toughened up. After the initial shock wore off, his thirst started to chill out. Nowadays, he only needed a sip every week. You knew that if he was doing things the "old-school" vampire way, he'd be guzzling down a whole human's worth of blood every couple of months, but this was the sanest workaround you could come up with to keep the body count at zero.

You were cool with it, as long as he stuck around. As long as you knew he was okay.

At first, he used to nibble on your wrist for a meal. But after just a few weeks, he upgraded to the neck. It was smoother for him and more comfortable for you, too. Better access, and if you ever got woozy from the blood loss, he could keep you steady. But having him that close? Well, that was... let's say, unsettling. Sure, maybe he wasn't human anymore, but it didn't mean your feelings for him had just vanished. In fact, being the only tie he had to his old human self just made those feelings kick it up a notch.

"Your heart's pounding," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours. You gulped hard, cursing how damn close you were, and how he could practically read your body like a book. After drinking your blood, his lips and cheeks had acquired a subtle pinkish tint, and his once warm, brown eyes had turned into this oddly beautiful shade of red.

"You freak me out," you fibbed, the excuse tumbling out in a rush but full of stubbornness. He grinned at your words, a playful glint in his eye.

"Do I now?" he teased, giving your hip a gentle squeeze as he pulled you closer. His chilly skin pressed against yours, sending shivers up your spine. He nuzzled your neck, his tongue brushing against your tender skin, making you whimper. "You know, they never spill this secret before they turn you – you can smell fear. And the scent of fear... it's something else. But you, you're not afraid of me, even though you probably should be."

"Why?" you breathed out, doing your best to shove aside the way your heart was practically doing a drum solo now. In the good old days, back when he was just human, you'd daydreamed about this like there was no tomorrow. To be this close to him, to feel his lips upon your skin. But now, with him all changed up, being this near wasn't anything like what you'd pictured.

"I could kill you right here, drain you dry," he growled, and you let out a little whimper as he bit down again, pulling you close and setting you down on the bed. His bite gradually turned into a sloppy, passionate kiss. You had to muffle a moan with your hand when he started sipping from your neck, taking even more of your blood. He backed off, fingers gripping your chin, making you meet his gaze. He studied your flushed face, lips slightly parted, eyes bleary. "And yet you like this. Why?"

"I dunno," you breathed out, shakily. You let out another whimper as he pressed his body against yours, his grip on your hair firm as he locked eyes with you, a fiery intensity in his gaze that revved up your heartbeat. You gasped in shock when he kissed you, his tongue diving into your mouth, the taste of your own blood making your head spin. You tugged at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer like it was out of your control, and he let out a soft laugh against your lips.

"I can smell desire, too, you know?" he mentioned, his hand sneaking under your pants and tracing along the edge of your panties, sending shivers down your spine. You opened your mouth, caught off guard, your face turning all shades of red, suddenly feeling more exposed than ever with him. How could he read you like a book? You hated this new side of him, the side you didn't know how to deal with, the side that fully understood the power he had over you.

The side of him that enjoyed it.  

"Dave, we shouldn't be crossing this line," you managed to whisper, and he let out a grunt.

"We've already crossed so many lines," he argued. "Plus, I owe you. Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you."

"I don't want us doing this just because you think you owe me," you frowned, and he huffed in response. You licked your lower lip, a fresh tension building between your legs. Even though you were still pissed at how he could see right through you, it wasn't like you didn't want this. "You can have whatever you want from me, no need to ask. As long as it's you..."

"No," he grumbled. "Don't say it like that, like I mean something to you. I'm a damn monst—"

"Oh, shut up," you whispered, cutting him off, and he gave you a puzzled look. Sure, he might be a whole new version of Dave from the one you used to know, but did it even matter? "You're not a monster. You got turned, yeah, but you're still you . And I'd give you anything, Dave, even if you were still human. That's how it's always been. I just..."

Your words trailed off as his lips crashed into yours again, his chilly hands gripping your waist firmly, and you couldn't help but let out a muffled moan.

"I wanna eat you whole," he groaned. "If you only knew how your heart races when I lay my eyes on you. It's driving me wild. If I'd known you felt like this sooner..."

"You know now," you whispered. His gaze locked onto yours, carrying a mix of anger, sadness, and something else. Something intense and deep that made your stomach twist and your skin tingle. Something that made you feel like he could have his way with you — and you'd let him.

"You're not exactly making this easy," he muttered, his voice low. You let out a nervous chuckle. You'd always pictured this — his body and yours, tangled up in your bed. In your fantasies, he was still human and madly in love with you. Was he in love with you now? Or did he only love how human you still were? How you stood by him even after his life had taken a nosedive and changed forever?

Did any of that really matter?

"I don't want easy," you replied, trailing your fingertips along his collarbone, slow and deliberate. You pulled him closer, your lips nearly brushing against his. You could feel his breath on your skin as he held you, making your heart race faster. "Everything's already a damn mess. If you wanna eat me whole, then just go ahead and do it."

He let out a deep groan as he yanked you closer, urgently, his hands roaming your body eagerly as you both stripped off your clothes. The room was dark, with only moonlight to guide you; his pale skin was smooth, soft against your naked form as his lips trailed all over you. You couldn't help but let out a throaty moan as he peppered you with kisses, drawing you closer and closer to him.

"Dave..." you hid your face in his hair as he teased your breast, biting down gently and leaving a trail of purple marks across your skin. He let out a low groan in response, grinding his hips against yours before pulling back slightly, looking deep into your eyes. He looked beautiful, supernatural; otherworldly strange, and that only made you love him even more. You wrapped your hand around his cock, using his precum as lubricant as you swiped your thumb over the tip in a slow, circular motion. He closed his eyes, grinding his hips against you as he let out your name in a strained moan. “Please, Dave, let me make you feel good.” you whispered. It was all you'd ever wanted, really — to serve him, to give him everything he craved and needed.

To be his, forever.

Dave moaned your name again, his strong arms pulling you close. You tangled your hands in his hair and locked your lips with his once more. His tongue dove into your mouth, kissing you with a fiery intensity. You wondered if it felt different for him now that he could sense the warmth of your blood, hear your heart racing, and smell how he was setting your body on fire.

He sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as he kept kissing you. He let out a grunt when your lips traveled to his ear and then down his neck. You bit and sucked on his exposed skin while he dug his fingers into your hair, your lips and tongue exploring his chest, his stomach, his thighs.

And then his cock.

You started on his tip, your tongue slowly licking on it, pressing and rubbing it against your lips, tasting him leisurely. You raised your eyes to look at Dave; he looked back at you, his eyes bleary and out of focus as one of his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair. He wrapped his hand around his cock’s base, pressing it against your lips, and you opened your mouth obediently, welcoming him into your mouth.

“You’re so warm.” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his body tensing up as you moved your head slowly, up and down, the taste of his skin invading your mouth. He panted, bucking his hips forward. “You feel so good. Wanna cum inside your pretty mouth, oh fuck…” 

You whimpered as he started moving his hips, tears filling your eyes as he pushed your head down on his cock. He groaned, his grip on your hair growing tighter as he took control of you, pushing it slowly until you had all his length inside your mouth. He then pulled it out, rubbing the tip against your lips before he pushed again, and again, until he was moving in a steady rhythm inside your mouth. 

“Look at me.” he grunted, and you tried your best to raise your teary eyes and look at him. He groaned when his eyes met yours. You were trying your best to keep breathing while allowing him to fuck your mouth harder and harder. Your throat was growing sore as your pussy throbbed. You were such a mess. You were so happy. He needed you. You loved him. He was yours then, his lips parted as he moaned your name and his cock ravaged your throat, all control you both could have had in that moment forgotten as he arched his hips forward and moved faster, and harder, and… “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna-Oh, shit!” he cried out as he came inside your mouth. You did your best to swallow it, the bitter taste lingering on your mouth as he let go of your hair, his breath uneven as his eyes closed. 

You sat down in front of him, trying your best to clean up the mix of semen and drool that ran down your chin. He gazed at you, his red eyes shining in the dim room, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His ginger hair was like copper against his pale, bare skin; you were never gonna grow tired of how stunning he looked.

"Get over here," he murmured, pulling you closer. You settled onto his lap, legs wrapped around his waist as he nuzzled into the curve of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. He kissed your neck slowly, then moved up to give your earlobe a gentle nip, and you let out a sigh, shutting your eyes.

"Dave..." you whispered, a hint of pleading in your tone. He gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he continued to lavish your neck, jaw, and collarbones with kisses.You were miserably wet, your pussy aching as you felt his cock grow hard once more against your thigh.

“Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”he whispered in your ear, and a soft moan escaped your lips as he grabbed your ass firmly. You pressed your body against his, burying your hands in his hair as you ground your hips together.

“Oh, fuck.” you whispered, tears pooling in your eyes again. Your whole body was aflame against his cold skin, fire and ice melting together. Your heart was pounding as he pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, holding your ass firmly. He grunted when you moved your hips eagerly, holding you into place and preventing you from sitting on his cock. “Dave…”

"You're gonna have to ask nicely," he whispered, his voice deep and alluring, like a predator who knew his prey couldn't escape. He whispered your name, his tone surprisingly tender, and you let out a sigh, your cheeks growing warm as he gripped your neck, his fingers urging your face to meet his gaze. "Tell me what you want."

“I want you to fuck me.” you pleaded, and he laughed at how easily he could command you. He was having fun, drunk in his power and in you, the sweet smell of your hair, of your blood, the warmth of your skin. It was inebriating, how completely surrendered to him you were. How fragile, and warm, and wanting. 

How human.

"Say please," he teased, a sly grin playing on his lips. You let out an exasperated groan.

"You're messing with me."

"Am I?" he pressed the tip of his cock harder against your entrance, and you whimpered when he penetrated you with his tip for just a bit before pulling out. “Tell me what you want.” he commanded, and you couldn't muster the strength to resist him any longer.

“Please, fuck me.” you pleaded, and he laughed before pulling you closer. You moaned as you felt his cock enter you, adjusting to his size as he pushed slowly. You gasped when he put it all inside, the tip of his cock hitting the sweetest spot inside of you. It felt so, so good. He was going so, so slow. It was maddening, you were on fire, you felt whole for the first time in forever. 

You started moving, slowly at first, but then setting into a steady pace as he held you close, burying your face in his hair. You were sure you were dying, drunk on the smell of his body and the feel of his cold skin against yours, but you couldn’t care less. It was like poison, feeling his cock thrusting deep inside of you as you moved up and down and he whispered your name, his voice strained as he moaned with you and held you so tight it felt almost as if he would break you. 

You didn’t care; you were his now. You were bonded to him. You were his.

You moaned his name as he started rubbing your clit, your pace growing faster as he pushed harder inside you. You were shaking, your legs were burning as you rode his cock; it felt like heaven. You whimpered when he slapped your ass, burying his nose on your neck and then biting on your skin, tasting your blood once again as you bounced on him. 

You knew he was close, too; his grip on your skin tightened as he pulled away, blood trickling down his chin as he looked deep into your eyes and you moaned louder and louder, your tits bouncing up and down as you chased your high, holding on to him like your life depended on it. 

“Dave, you feel so good. Dave, oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum. Dave… ” you moaned, words growing irrational and senseless as your pussy started contracting slowly. He moaned, praising you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear — how you were such a good girl. How you tasted so good, how you felt so tight around his cock, how good it felt to be inside of you. You cried out as your orgasm took every little bit of control you had left, making your whole body contract and shake. 

Dave grunted, holding you close as he kept fucking you through your orgasm, sweet, lovely words leaving his lips like honey, taking you over the edge again, and again, and again, and now he was coming too, his thick semen filling you to the brim as his thrusts grew sloppier. You buried your face in his hair, allowing him to take his cock out of you, your pussy still throbbing with pleasure, feeling suddenly faint. 

"Oh, God," you whispered, and you could feel Dave's quiet laughter beneath you more than you could hear it as he held you close. "I think I might pass out."

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he whispered, panting, and you weakly chuckled. "You lost a lot of blood. I shouldn't have taken so much."

“I think I’d be okay if you weren’t fucking me while doing it.” you grumbled, and he laughed again. His fingers traced along your back, and you sighed contentedly as he lifted you effortlessly, placing you on the bed and lying down beside you. You opened your eyes, studying his face, taking in everything that made him who he was. He looked more like the old, human Dave than ever before, with the vulnerability he showed, that old beautiful smile on his lips, and a touch of cockiness that only made him more endearing. “What’s making you smile?”

"I love you," he said. You blinked, your lips parting slowly. For someone who prided yourself on not being easily surprised, you found yourself caught off guard by him quite often.

"I love you too," you managed to whisper with a giggle. He smiled and pulled you closer.

"I know. I've known for a while," he said, pressing his index finger against your chest. You blushed when you realized how fast your heart was beating. "See? It's so loud I'm surprised you can't hear it."

"Oh, shut up, you freak," you whispered, and he laughed. You studied his face, running your fingertips softly along his lower lip. "I'm kidding. You're not a freak. But I am. I'm in love with a damn vampire."

"Do you care?" he asked, a slight hint of worry in his voice. You smiled and shook your head.

"Hell no, Mustaine."

"Then it's all good."

"Yeah."

"As long as we're together," he whispered, and you smiled, knowing that nothing had changed after all. You knew you could always count on him; he knew he could always count on you.

You were bonded.

You were his.

[ninthcurse]

fact sheet

nines or marrow. he/him, it/its. t4t queerfag monster that hunts boys thru the woods at night. system, psych certified schizo freak.

bloodsucking sadist, dom vers, polyam. i'm an adult interacting with kink in a way that makes me happy and fulfilled.

i <3 dms and asks, especially from other systems or anyone that wants to talk. i love talking about kink + fantasy and im pretty much unphased by most shit but i'm bad at small talk if i've reblogged one of your posts or interacted where you don't want me to, lmk and i'll pull the post/remove the interaction

more info under the cut <3 idgaf if you read but its probably best to if u wanna message me

a selection of kinks/fantasies i'm into or actively post about:

free use/public legalized rape

extreme dehumanization/objectification/degradation

woundfucking/gore

torture

monsterfucking/inhuman sex/tentacles/slime

cervix penetration

breeding/oviposition/impregnation

fucking to death

weapon play

intox play

fauxcest/incest, ageplay

genderplay/detrans/forced masc/fem

dumbification/mindbreak

bimbofication, transformation/body modification

extreme insertion

predicament bondage

public sex

tit torture

pet play

tpe/24 7 dynamic

things i'm not into/probably won't respond to:

scat

rotting or decaying flesh

[randomfanner]

So, some more thoughts for the Orin gets Tadpoled AU, notably her relations with the other party.

General Headcanons - uses the fact she is a shapeshifter to hide she is a doppelgänger because Shadowheart pointed out the fact she looks just a tad bit suspicious, however when she is around the party she doesn't bother. She does use these abilities to get around pretty effectively (such as transforming into a Drow to get past the goblins and other good skips like that) and will transform to fit in(she changes into a tiefling around the tiefling, human around the druids, etc)

Violence is an answer however other people in the party teach her there are other ways.... and when people like Gale and Shadowheart begin to give her praise for being more crafty and cunning with her way of dealing with problems, well, why wouldn't she do what they like?

Whenever the urge pops pop she is very loud about it. "I SHALL TRIM THAT MEAT STUB FOR YOU" "WAIT STOP HER P L E A S E" and someone(notably Shadowheart) is able to stop her from doing something stupid. She gets better control and has to deal with the urge in general less than the Durge. (Astarion pouts whenever she is stopped)

She uses nicknames for everyone.

Lae'zel (Wondrous Blood-soaked Warrior) - Other than the fact Orin is pretty openly unhinged they get along pretty damn well. Lae'zel admires how good Orin is at killing, Orin admires how good Lae'zel is at killing. Plus Orin very much enjoys when Lae'zel gives her praise. When they get to the Creche though, Orin is not having a good time and begins to have some flashbacks to the temple of Bhaal especially during the trainee scene and may be pretty reactive which does cause some problems for the two of them, but after things are finished there Orin does her best to comfort Lae'zel for losing her anchor.

Shadowheart (Beloved Cleric) - Shadowheart and Orin are amnesia buddies. I also feel Orin freed Shadowheart from the nautiloid because the more allies the less lonely the better! Shadowheart isn't sure what to make of this gremlin who borders on almost murder, and ends up being Orin's voice of reason most of the time. Now this is just for me, but Shadowheart x Orin romance. Goth GFs who have family issues (that family just being a fucking cult) and need to find a place to belong and sense of being, so why not do that together? Plus we see Orin's hair, she does it herself probably, Shadowheart and Orin braid train.

Gale (Wizard) - Orin nearly cuts Gale's hand off and is barely stopped by Shadowheart, so it is uh, a bit of a rocky relationship at first. However Gale is willing to forgive and keep an eye on their new unhinged doppelgänger friend. I do think Gale wants to study Orin because how often are you traveling with such an adept shapeshifter? Orin of course adores the attention and answers any questions she can and they end up bonding over that. Orin has no problem parting with magical trinkets for the wizard and wishes to fight Mystra herself. Orin also finds herself very much enjoying his cooking considering she can't remember ever having suck well made food in her entire life.

Astarion (Bloodsucker) - Orin ends up doing good things to get approval from the two people she met and bonded with first, thus Astarion being a bitch about it gets him a look of distain from Orin. Besides, Orin being a rogue he is not needed in the party. However Orin has no qualms about his wish for blood and he is free to fill his thirst whenever he wishes.... Plus Astarion does enjoy the fucking wild things Orin tends to say.

Wyll (Fiery Blade) - You know Wyll is a bit freaked out at first with Orin for well, obvious reasons however when it is clear she is going to cause... notably less problems then one might expect, they end up getting along pretty well. Orin I think would enjoy his dramatics and listening to stories and begins to take cues from him when weaving her own tales. When he teaches her how to dance it is quite fun and she may get a bit too into it, however I can only see them being bros mostly because Orin is still yelling about draining people dry.

Karlach (Heated Axe that cuts enemies like butter) - I think these two loons get along so fucking well, Orin will use Karlach as a spring board once her engine is fixed to dive bomb enemies well Karlach will slaughter them from the front. When Orin hears of this 'Gortash' she makes note that they shall split him and wear his enthralls as a wondrous scarf, which Karlach is totally behind. Orin also keeps bringing Karlach hearts because "if the issue is someone took yours, surely it can be replaced. I will find as many hearts as needed to fix your problem" (Orin is not ready for the fact Karlach is dying because the two of them are besties)

@bhaalstemple I think you need this.

[1-800-cr33py]

How I Think The Boys Love Pt.2

Paul:

Paul’s love is greedy and uncouth; he doesn’t care about people’s opinions or thoughts about his style and personality, why would he give a flying fuck about his relationships?

He loves to love, but his version of ‘love’ isn’t considered quite normal. He’s playful, his romantic relationships almost never leave the honeymoon phase. He loves the feeling of anticipation he gets whenever you do something unexpected or say something he finds cute.

He’s rather attentive, someone bothering you? He’s dealing with it as you speak! Want something outside of your price range? Don’t worry that pretty little head of your’s! He’s stealing it while you play some rigged carnie game! Paul loves to shower you with gifts, it’s his way of marking you and bragging to other people that you’re his

He’s possessive, he wants his things to not be shared, but with three other brothers and being the ‘middle child’, that means he doesn’t get much exclusivity with his possessions So the few things that he’s been able to hide away he’s deathly protective over. He’s fought tooth and nail (probably literally) over you! Why would he be willing to share whats his?

Paul’s love language is physical touch and gift-giving. He tends to love bomb without meaning to he just wanted to know that his Sugar knows he loves them.

He bites, not to draw blood necessarily, which he does on occasion, but to let you know he’s still there. He likes to nibble on the tips of your fingers, drag his teeth across your neck.

All and all he just doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll show everyone in Santa Carla that you’re his and his alone.

Marko:

Marko’s love is certainly…something. His affections are brash and rushed. Hardly anything is taken slow, so if you aren’t a slow lover he’s your best pick of a partner.

He wants everyone to know you’re his and only his. He’ll throw a shirt and a worn jacket at you and expect you to wear it, his scent heavy and a pleading look in his eyes. ( no babe, that tee totally goes with your pants! Ps, it didn’t)

He’s Italian, so you have many nicknames that roll of his silvery tongue; Cuore mia, gioia mia, cerbiatto, topolino. So many nicknames..

He loves giving you love bites, but he’s a prick and leaves them in obvious places. Thighs, neck, wrists, anywhere that can be easily forgotten about and noticed by a surf n*zi.

Marko can takes things slow some days, even an erratic shark-toothed bloodsucker like him has his days where he just needs to be grounded by the safety of your arms.

Marko doesn’t crave to control your every movement like his older brothers, he wants you to have as much freedom as you possibly can before he turns you eventually; because none of them had that option when they were changed.

He does try and get your body used to their schedule while it’s still mortal. Baby bats require training, he’ll gladly provide!

Nests in the higher parts of the cave, but only lets his brothers up there once in a blue moon, so feel free to hide up there when they get on your nerves, and trust me, they will.

You’re his muse! There’s so many pictures, paintings, sketches, etc of you laying around the cave. He wants you to remember what you look like after you turn.

Love language is word of affirmation and quality time! Sometimes Marko doesn’t like the feeling of his own skin, so you just sitting there with him and letting him vent/cry makes him fall harder for you.

He likes to hold you and smell you, he just likes your shampoo+conditioner combo.

Marko has non-verbal days, he just copes differently than some and nobody questions it, just spend some time with him and leave him alone when he needs self-care time.

A/N: So sorry for the inconsistencies in my writing schedule, I’ve been dealing with a lot family wise, nothing bad just some changes! I’ll probably end this series with Michael and Star since there’s barely any content for her outside of sisterly and platonic stuff (no hate, but she needs to reject me so i can move on)

Pt.1

[secretpajamas]

BLOODY HELL

a Max x reader fic

pairing: max (bloodsucking bastards) x female reader

genre: humor/crack (but with a movie like bloodsucking bastards, is it really crack?)

rating: M

words: 861

content: period talk, mentions of oral sex

a/n: I have no goddamn clue what this abomination is. It’s been sitting in my docs for three years. Enjoy!

—

It was simple; you just needed Max to sign off on your report before you sent it over to legal. However, when you walked up to his door and peeked through the window, he seemed to be in the midst of a giant temper tantrum.

“I can’t do this anymore! FUCK! FUCK!”

He was yelling so loudly you could hear him through the closed door. You shrugged, dismissed this outburst as another one of Max’s eccentricities, and opened the door.

“Sorry to interrupt,” you said, and Max’s head whipped around to glare at you.

“What do you want?” He hissed as he slunk over to his desk and sat down, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. He had shed his three-piece ensemble throughout the day, his vest, tie, and suit jacket tossed haphazardly over an open filing cabinet, leaving him in just his white dress-shirt. It was unbuttoned clear past his collarbone and the sleeves were rolled up his forearms.

It struck you as very odd. Max was usually extremely fastidious with his appearance—this Max looked utterly frazzled.

“Well?” Max barked, and you straightened.

“Uh, um, I just needed you to read and sign these before I give them to legal,” you said, handing over the papers. Max swiped them out of your hands and gave them a cursory glance before slapping them down on the desk.

“Is that all?” He asked, glaring at you, his nostrils flaring.

“Uh, yes, Max,” you said, looking at him with a degree of concern. “Pardon me if I’m being intrusive, but are you okay?”

Max stared at you, expression blank for a moment before breaking out in laughter. It was a harsh, raucous kind of laugh, one that did not tend to denote amusement.

“Am I okay. Am I fuckin’ okay.” He gesticulated wildly for a moment. “I was okay. Everything was fucking peachy in this office. A hell of a lot better than the last one I had the displeasure of running.And then you... You waltz in here last year with your perfect references and your perfect resumé and your perfect everything and I think, ‘oh, gee, she’ll be a great addition to our team, let’s hire her, what could go wrong?’ Everything. Everything could go wrong.”

You wracked your brain, trying to think of a time that your performance was less than stellar. You prided yourself on your work ethic; it had earned you respect and a raise in the relatively short time you’d been here.

“I’m sorry, Max, I don’t know if I understand,” you said.

Max waved a hand at you before continuing. “Look. I’ll be blunt. Anna’s got an IUD, she never has a period. Trish probably went through menopause in the 90s. Maria’s birth control makes it so she only has a period once every three months, and I can easily schedule in a couple sick days around it. You, however,” he growled, “are a fucking nightmare.”

You balked. What the hell did your coworker’s menstrual cycles have to do with anything?

“You come in here reeking of blood every goddamn month! Sometimes every three weeks! For five fucking days at a time! And I have mentioned how goddamn frustrating it is to think it’s over and then come back the next day, thinking I’ll have some modicum of peace, and you’re sitting there like, ‘oops, silly me, still bleeding!’”

You wondered what the fuck Max was going on about until you remembered.

Wait.

Your boss is a vampire, you dipshit.

“Oh,” you said, shifting in your seat. Knowing he could smell that you were on your period never occurred to you, but now his monthly mood swings made a lot more sense. “Um. I’m... sorry.”

“You have no idea how much restraint I’m showing right now,” Max said with a huff. “But killing you would be a mess for HR to clean up. And the janitor. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of my ties?”

“Try bloodstains on underwear,” you griped.

“Not. Helping,” he hissed.

“You know,” you said, “You could still, uh. Drink my blood. Without killing me, I mean.”

Max looked confused, then he sat up straight as a board. “You can’t be serious,” he said.

“Really? Has it never really occurred to you before?” you asked, incredulous.

“I can’t say it hasn’t,” he said.

Silence stretched between the two of you.

Fuck it. Even if your boss was an asshole, he was hot, and you could use an orgasm or two.

“Well... I’m game if you are,” you said.

Max’s eyebrows shot up. Silently, he stood and walked to his door, as if expecting you to follow.

You were embarrassed beyond belief. What were you thinking, coming on to your boss? You got up and made your way to the door, reaching for the doorknob.

Max held out his arm, blocking your hand. With one swift motion, he locked the door and backed you into his desk.

“Take off your clothes,” he snarled.

You grinned. “Got it, boss.”

Needless to say, this was going to be a fun week at the office.

[polkaclown]

am I the only one thinking about how Rebecca didn't seem that surprised when renfield revealed he was draculas familiar?

obviously the way she reacted when renfield told her he works for dracula implied that she's aware of draculas existence -as a fictional character at least. ("Dracula?...like count Dracula ") she definitely did seem to doubt renfield at first but she seemed to come to terms with that whole thing rather quickly?? idk if that's just a fault of the movie itself or there's some other reason to explain it? cause if some random guy told you he only kills people cause he works for dracula you'd probably think he's insane and making it all up right?

another thing worth mentioning is when dracula introduced himself to teddy lobo, he also doesn't react too strongly to that revelation and doesn't seem to doubt him or even care about it that much. later on when teddy introduced Dracula to his mother (who also didn't seem shocked at all) he says "it's the real fucking dracula!" which again proves that Dracula is a well known character (or maybe just a well known person?) and suggests that the general public know about him. yet this doesn't explain why NOBODY DOUBTS HIM OR EVEN QUESTIONS IT???

like... okay, you're dracula? as in the bloodsucking vampire from Bram Stoker's novel 'Dracula' or perhaps the classic 1931 'Dracula' starring bela legosi? oh yeah, cool! that's believable! didn't know you were actually a real person but whateves! 👍

additionally when Kate was saved she mentioned how renfield told her he used Dracula blood to heal her. Rebecca just said it was some herbal remedy- so she essentially hid the truth about Dracula's existence from her for what appears to be no reason?

idk I've been thinking about this alot- trying to come up with different ideas of how Dracula is basically like 'viewed' in society. I need other people's opinions on this cause it drives me crazy.

[pintsizemama]

Fruitcake

Day 14

Summary: A neighbor gave you fruitcake…Max is not a fan.

Pairings: Max Phillips x You, Max Phillips x Female Reader

Fandom: Bloodsucking Bastards

Rating: Mature

Warnings: language

Word Count: 383

Day 12 Day 14 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

“I’m home!” You heard Max call out as the front door slammed shut. You were snuggled on the couch reading a book and savoring a hot cup of coffee.

“How was work?” You called out distractedly. You were completely engrossed in your book. It was a steamy romance that was just starting to heat up.

“Same old, same old,” Max replied. “Didn’t have to kill anyone today, so pretty boring.” You were barely listening. you were vaguely aware of your boyfriend bustling around between the kitchen and living room.

“Fuck!” Max’s sudden outburst made you jump and nearly throw your book in the air. “Bleh! What the fuck is this?” You looked up to see Max standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen a large piece of fruitcake in his hand and trying his hardest not to throw up.

“Fruitcake,” you answered. “Clara brought it over earlier.”

“Clara?”

“The women who lives next door,” you supplied.

“That old bat?” You chuckled. Clara was probably pushing ninety, and was as sweet as could be to both you and Max. “This is disgusting.” He tossed the offending cake into the trash.

“It’s fruitcake, Max,” you said. “Of course it’s disgusting.”

“Why would she give that to us? Is she trying to kill us?”

“Tons of people give out fruitcake for Christmas,” you answered. “You’re not supposed to eat it. You just say thank you and throw it away when they leave.”

“If everyone hates it then why the hell do people give it to each other?”

“No idea,” you said. “Just toss the whole thing. I meant to earlier and got sidetracked.”

“Ugh,” Max grimaced as he threw it away. “I’m never gonna get that taste out of my mouth.” He came in to sit next to you. You were back to being fully submersed in your book. “Sweet cheeks, wanna give me a little blood to help me get rid of this flavor?”

“No can do,” you said. “Clara wanted to see me eat a piece before she left, so you’ll have to wait a few hours for my blood to taste normal again.”

“God dammit,” Max groaned. He got up with a sigh. “Guess I’ll have to settle for some bourbon then.”

“Mmm,” you murmured, once again tuning him out to read.

Day 14

Join my taglist

If you enjoy my blog and would like to support it, you can always buy me a coffee. Not necessary, but always appreciated.

Taglist:

@alexxavicry @amneris21 @awhitewyvern @burrito-stuffs @dreedhudson @greeneyedblondie44 @harriedandharassed @hayley-the-comet @hnt-escape @just-here-for-the-moment @kirsteng42 @lizette50 @loompyinaway @maxwell--lord @mishasminion360 @mswarriorbabe80 @my-sweetheart1776 @peach-child @pedrostories @sherala007 @stevie75 @wakaladjarin @xocalliexo @christinamadsen

[sharksssm]

I Want You In That Armchair

Chapter 7 of my Tav (Lex) fucking her way around the campaign (AO3 link). This is probably the last Astarion one I'm going to do for a while, as now that I'm further along in the playthrough I'm going to start doing side characters more! The fic is too big for Tumblr (boooo) so enjoy a little bit of the spice here as a teaser! Below the cut be the following, so heed this warning - Tailfucking, Gender Fuckery, Smut, Blood and Bloodsucking, referring to a tail as a cock. No Beta, We Die Like Men!

“You look so beautiful my darling.” You whimpered as Astarion stood, his thighs slotting in next to yours, your tail slotting between his ass cheeks, his hand resting on your chest as he leaned in and kissed your softly. Your hand snaked around his waist, pulling him closer by the small of his back, deepening your kiss. You moved away, lungs burning. Astarion’s pupils were blown, his hand moving frantically behind him as his body gyrated, his pre-cum leaking onto both of your stomachs. “Astarion, are you sure?” Astarion nodded, hand on your sternum, eyes looking into yours.

With Astarion’s renewed consent you shifted your hips down, tip of your tail next to his hand, teasing at his fingers. He groaned, grabbing it and guiding it to his prepared hole, slick and gaping from his fingers. You pushed up, grateful you didn’t have to thrust with the way Astarion’s thighs were slotted against yours, sensing the tiniest bit of resistance before his body relaxed against your cock. Your tail, you corrected yourself, a quick shake of your head. Astarion groaned, grinding his hips down onto you, head falling into the crook of your neck, inhaling against your damp skin. “Gods, you’re so good for me Lex, your cock is so good inside me.” You almost froze, a deep feeling of something in your chest as he called your tail your cock again. Affirmation? You tried not to dwell on the thought too much, after all one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen was bouncing on your tail, his nose pressed into your neck as your hands caressed his waist, pulling and pushing his hips in time with his movements.

Read the rest on AO3!

[whumpcloud]

can we see Vincent having a nightmare and how clary/ cat react to it especially if he doesn't know where he is when he first wakes up

we CAN <3

content: vampire whumpee, nightmares, muzzled whumpee, references to torture and captivity, dehumanisation, questionable caretaking

Vincent is still asleep when they come down to feed him today. He's started to sleep later and later - probably his body returning to a more natural rhythm. Cai goes to shake him awake, then pauses.

"He's shivering," Cai whispers.

"So?" Clary frowns. "Just wake him up."

Cai sighs, but concedes, and shakes Vincent by the shoulder. Vincent whimpers softly.

"Come on, wake up," Cai hisses, shaking him again.

Vincent's eyes snap open and he screams, backing away so quickly that he falls off the bed and hits the floor with a heavy thud. He curls up, feeling every effect of the panic and fear except the physical ones he actually wishes he could feel.

"Don't, please, please don't, p-please!" he cries, scratching at the muzzle like it's burning, even though some part of him knows it isn't. "Please don't hurt me anymore, please!"

Cai climbs over the bed and Clary goes around. The fact that they're approaching him at all makes him scream again and hide his face in his knees.

"I'm begging you, please!" Vincent tries, desperate to avoid the pain he knows is coming, he knows he deserves. "I c-can't, I can't take it, please don't, please just let me be today, p-please!"

"Vincent," Cai says, quiet but firm.

They didn't call him that, not once. It was bloodsucker or parasite or leech or that stupid fucking thing or the ashtray or the punching bag but not Vincent. He knows that, he thinks. He doesn't know anything right now except that he's going to get hurt.

He hears someone crouch in front of him and he tries to scramble away again, but a hand grips his hair. He whimpers, soft sobs in his throat.

"Vincent," Cai says again, softer this time. "Look at me."

He can't refuse an order like that. He looks up. Blond, curled hair falling into brown eyes and Cai smells like honey not blood or smoke or burnt flesh or concrete.

"C-Cai," Vincent mumbles. "You're… here…"

"Yep, pretty sure I am," Cai says flatly. "And so are you."

Clary keeps her distance, but Vincent glances at her anyway. Clary's here. All the wishing in the world didn't make her reappear when he was with the hunters.

He's… safe?

Well, he isn't getting hurt right now. That's as close to safe as it gets.

Vincent's face burns in shame. "I'm sorry. I… had a nightmare…"

"It's fine," Cai shrugs. "Sit up, I've got your food."

Cai called him by name just a minute ago.

Vincent slowly pulls himself upright, and silently drinks from the bags. He watches Clary for most of it, without her really noticing. She's watching anywhere but him.

When he's finished, she finally speaks.

"Are you alright?" she asks, a frustrated edge to her voice.

"Am…" Vincent stops himself. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking, Clary."

That she cared enough to ask makes him so visibly happy that Clary forces herself to look away again.

"Good." She pauses. "If… if you ever have a nightmare like that again, try, um, focusing on specific things. What you can feel, for you, I guess, since you think you see and hear stuff."

What he can feel. The floor and his clothes and the fear but he ignores it. He nods quietly. The twins leave, and he presses his knees to his chest and cuts his bottom lip open with his fangs when he bites down.

Cai locks the door and turns to his sister.

"That was nice of you," Cai signs, eyebrows raised.

"Don't remind me that I was fucking nice to him," Clary mutters.

taglist: @whumpsday @whumpycries @whumpwillow @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @whumpshaped @suspicious-whumping-egg @chibichibivale @melancholy-in-the-morning @zillastar13 @bloodinkandashes @whump-me-all-night-long @sickophantic @itsmyworld98 @kira-the-whump-enthusiast