#like the twisted fangs and HUGE claw nails!

[greytongue]

that boy is a monster.

-

cw: las plagas leon chasing you. he’s rlly infected. primal play possibly???? he drinks your blood. no penetration. non consensual touching, grabbing, biting AT FIRST. ambiguous gender reader

-

you were sprinting for your life, exerting yourself so hard you felt you couldn’t get enough air in your lungs. the old run down cabins of the infected villagers flew by as the landscape slowly turned into dark forest.

you had gotten split up from leon during this whole baby eagle mission, this whole escapade was a fucking shit show. you kept asking yourself why the hell you agreed to be shipped off to spain to rescue the friggin presidents daughter. guess it was the prize money. it’ll be a miracle if you ever see that cash.

something was wrong with leon. very wrong. you’d found him eventually, but he looked… no persons spine is supposed to be cutting out of their skin like that. no person is supposed to have scorpion-like features. his teeth were too sharp.

you shook your head trying to rid the image of him out of your mind. god, it was terrible. and you knew he was coming for you. knew it by the footsteps close behind you, by the growls and the unnerving clicking sounds coming from his throat.

tears filled your vision. you were praying to god, the universe, whatever is up there, that you’d live.

they didn’t answer, if anything it’s almost as if they purposely planted that oversized tree root for you to trip on. you cursed as you tumbled to the ground, you felt your ankle twist painfully. you didn’t have much time to register the pain as the creature you’d been running from threw himself on you.

you screeched in terror as his huge hands (well claws now really) gripped your shoulder to flip you over and he shoved his horrible face into yours, hissing loudly as he barred his teeth. they all looked like sharp canines now.

“god, please, stop! it’s me!” you begged for him to let you go. you squirmed, kicked, scratched, anything. ‘leon’ growled viciously, sharp finger nails digging into your wrists as he pinned them to the ground, knees holding down your struggling thighs. you were done for, you thought. he was impossibly strong. you sobbed as you waited for him to kill you, eat you, anything.

you waited, eyes shut tight and teeth gritting, but nothing came. all you could feel was his heavy breaths fanning across your face.

you hesitantly peered up, to see what the fuck he was doing. his face was impossibly close to yours, his nose almost bumped yours. you glazed over the his furrowed brows, his bloodshot eyes, the veins that spread across his face. you took this in with disbelief, he looked so different.

“leon… please…” you whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. you regretted saying anything as he growled, shoving you harder into the dirt, big hands gripped your wrists tighter. you whimpered partly in fear and confusion as he leaned in towards your neck, inhaling deep. you shut your eyes tight and shivered when his long tongue licked a strip up your throat, starting at your collarbone and ending at your jaw. you cringed as he shivered in delight, letting an inhumane groan fall from his lips.

‘just lie still and take it, lie and take it, lie and take it-‘

“taste…” your thoughts were interrupted when he attempted to speak. his voice was raspy, dry. it’d probably been a while since he’d talked. you opened an eye, examining his face. he was having trouble finding the words. his demeanor was changing.

“taste… good…” shit. how? you were covered in dirt, sweat, blood, tears, you name it. some tastebuds he must have now. your train of thought was once again interrupted as he started… kissing your neck? a sharp exhale left your mouth, now falling agape at the sensation of him beginning to lick at you some more.

he was so rough a second earlier, this was… soft. this felt nice- no! no. don’t think that.

you groaned, partly at your inner conflict and the way his razor sharp fangs grazed over your pulse, careful to not cut too deep, but enough to start a steady stream of blood. he greedily sucked at your new wound, practically moaning as he drank. your breathing quickened at the sensation of him desperately getting his fill from you, head lolling back as you became light headed. he hummed in approval as this ended up giving him more access to shove his face in, his chest lowering to relax on yours.

one of his hands released your wrist, coming to slide down your body. the knee that was pinning down your thigh let up, and he hiked your leg to rest on his hip. instead of forcing you down, he moved your bodies to press into each other. you were too weak anyway to fight it. if anything this felt good, not just for him. especially when he ground his hips down like that onto yours, he was getting desperate for more than the pleasure that came from your blood, and honestly? you were too now.

he finally let go of your neck. sitting up, panting hard, blood dripping down his mouth and throat. only now did you realize how much blood he’d taken from you.

“come… with me…” his big arms enveloped you, lifting you with ease as your legs wrapped around his waist, arms draped over his shoulders. you whimpered, you were so dizzy you couldn’t keep your eyes open. you blacked out as soon as you shut your eyes.

-

regaining your senses, you found leon situating himself on your hips. his big claws moving you legs how he wanted. you turned your head, taking in the room he put you both in. he probably broke into one of the village houses and put you both in what looked to be some sort of loft. he placed you both on a mattress shoved into the corner.

your face heated up as his dark eyes bore into yours, hovering tall and big over you. you liked his weight on you, you felt grounded. helped your dizziness. you ran your tongue over your dry lips, trying to put moisture back onto them.

he purred appreciatively at the sight of you. hair slightly messy, eyes glazed, face flushed, throat bruised. his thumb swiped over your lips, gathering the sheen of your saliva that laid there. he made eye contact, sucking his thumb clean before leaning down. your eyes went wide as his lips brushed against yours, his were surprisingly soft despite he was mid transition to a literal scorpion. you tried your best to kiss back, you were still fucking exhausted from the amount of blood he took from you. his tongue grazed over your bottom lip, begging for entrance. you allowed him permission immediately.

as the kiss deepened, he shifted your legs to rest at his sides, your hips flush against each other. a hand remained on your waist, the other still cupping your face to keep you where he wanted. this continued to get more and more heated, his tongue was... different. longer, rougher, pointier? whatever it was, it felt amazing against yours.

his hips ground against yours instinctively. you groaned loudly, struggling to move your arm and grip his waist.

“holy shit..” you were breathing heavily as he continued to roll his hips. you bucked your hips up in response, feeling his shaft through his pants rub delightfully against your crotch. his eyes fluttered shut at the movement, a sharp, raspy growl leaving his lips.

he was getting overheated, with how high his body temperature must be now from trying to fight off this parasite. he hurriedly tugged his shirt to bunch up and expose his chest. you whined, drinking in the way his ab muscles rippled with each thrust. you wanted him, badly. you managed to gain enough strength to sit up and you dove in to worship his strong torso. leaving kisses all over with occasional nipping and sucking, you were determined to leave some marks on him. his head fell back in pure bliss, purring shamelessly. he shuddered while you licked a strip up his sternum. growling once more, he shoved you down onto the bed, knocking the wind out of you. he grabbed your jaw and forced your head to the side and sucked on your pulse, making you squirm. hips colliding once more together, you both grunted.

“leon…” you panted, his eyes darted to yours, pupils blown wide. “…need more.” the way he was reaching to pull your pants off was enough response.

he unzipped and shucked your pants off in a second, along with your underwear. he didn’t bother with your shirt, not enough time. you shivered as the cold air hit your exposed sex.

hastily, he unbuckled his belt, not bothering to slide it off. he unzipped his pants, only sliding them down slightly below his hips so his size wasn’t confined in them, taking out his sizable member.

holy. shit. his dick was swollen and red. you could literally see it throbbing. was he always that big when he wasn’t the host to whatever this sickness was? it wasn’t gonna fit.

he pressed the tip to your sensitive entrance, but you were quick to stop him. you placed a hand on his abdomen, “hey! no, please, it won’t go.”

he growled in frustration, to which you rolled your eyes. “here, just…” you grabbed his cock and made your sexes reconnect, both of you moaned at the feeling. you experimentally rutted your hips, and he quickly caught on doing the same, adding his hand next to yours. your head fell back, a whimper falling from your lips at the friction.

“fuuuck..” you huffed out, his hands held your squirming hips in place and continued to grind. a snarl bubbled from his throat as you writhed.

though it wasn’t actual penetration, the pleasure built up fast. leon was panting heavily, his eyes were fixated on fucking your sexes together, so focused on getting both of you to cum.

you couldn’t help the noises coming from you, with how his shaft rubbed perfectly against you. he shifted slightly, thrusting against you at just the right angle. you begged for him to keep going, he mumbled out curses under his breath. your toes were curling, and he didn’t dare let up, if anything his pace quickened. he kept you in place, a hand splayed out on your stomach.

“c’mon, baby.” he rumbled, thrusting feverishly. you gripped onto the sheets, nearly crying, trying to ground yourself. his thrusts shook your body forward. your orgasm came quick, he rode you through it as you quivered and shook. one of your hands came to your mouth, muffling the whimpers that fell out of you.

“so good… for me…” he praised, a sly grin falling onto his lips. it fell within seconds, his own pleasure finally coming to a head.

his orgasm hit hard moments later, wracking his body, spilling all over both of your groins. he groaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head. he gripped your hips tight, slowing his pace. though you were blissed out of your fucking mind, you managed to praise him as well.

“mhm, that’s it.” your hand came to cup his cheek. he was still shaking, trying to recover from his orgasm. one of his hands let go of your hip to cradle the hand on his face, turning to kiss your palm.

after cooling down some, he rolled off you. you both lied there, catching your breath, enjoying the afterglow. he was purring so loud he sounded like a damn cat.

you turned your head to face him. your eyes glazed over his lidded eyes, forehead shining from sweat, mouth agape from drawing in as much breath as he could. you could see his fangs poking out.

you gently placed a hand on his cheek, his gaze focused on you now. he looked a lot less angry now, tuckered out more than anything. maybe he just needed to be fucked dumb after all.

you spoke first, “we need to find luis, before this gets any worse.” gesturing to his half human, half whatever the fuck was taking over him, body. he snarled and rolled his eyes, looking away from you.

you scoffed, “yeah, yeah. i’m not happy about it either.”

this was gonna be a long day.

[dragon-queen21]

Regressor Razor headcanons

+cg Lisa and regressor Bennet

Tw: vent regression, injury, general miscommunication and angst (all my favorite characters have to suffer. I'm sorry but I don't make the rules /j)

~~~

~Puppy regressor! Has a headband with puppy ears on it

~Lisa got him and his stuffed wolf matching collars made from high grade leather and a tag that says “pup”

~Bennet is his unofficial little brother, they are attached at the hip and cause Lisa such a headache between Bennet’s own bad luck and Razor’s curiosity. But they're adorable so it's all good

~ Aether sometimes joining in on play dates with the two. Not often as Lisa puts her foot down over watching three littles all by herself without roping Kaeya or Jean in on baby sitting duties as well.

~(Paimon doesn't count as a babysitter despite insisting that she watches over Aether just fine while he's little. Lisa has learned the hard way that all the fae does is just encourages the three to get into even more mischief)

~The most high energy pup, he really doesn’t like to be stuck in the library, he wants to go out and explore!

~They go out on picnics a lot and Lisa makes him homemade snacks for them to take. Cookies in the shapes of paws or dog bones.

~She has to constantly remind the little wolf pup that she’s bringing the food, no need for either of them to go hunting

~Razor’s more willing to try new foods little than he is normally. It helps that he likes Lisa's cooking as well

~Runs off into the woods, comes back with a pretty flower for his mama

~Lisa picking out picture books with wolves in them and playing with Razor’s hair/rubbing his tummy while he listens. He often falls asleep like this

~Pacifiers? Absolutely not! Razor needs to bite >:3

~Definitely a vent regressor

~The feeling of abandonment that doesn't help when he's mentally three years old and hearing the whispered rumors the spread whenever he's in the city

~Ended up hurting himself with his claws without wanting to in a meltdown and sobbed for an hour.

~Lisa has wanted to cut his nails short but as he uses them to hunt normally he never let her do that. Instead she's gotten him soft gloves with little paw pads on them that he’s content enough with wearing and they help a bit. He only accepted them after he left a huge gash in her arm when she tried to calm him down and he felt horrible about it after.

~He just wants attention from his mama and his brother, but he's also afraid of getting to close and them deciding that he's not worth it. He ends up pushing them away on bad days

~Lashes out with claws and fangs, and far too many emotions that he doesn’t know how to cope with

~In the same way that a child will lash out towards their parents or siblings because in some twisted way they feel safe enough to do so without being shunned.

~Bennet gets the worst end of this

~While big the young adventure says that he understands and accepts Razor’s apologies. Little Bennet on the other hand doesn't understand what he did wrong, only that everyone seems to always want to leave him, so it must be his fault again. He will end up sobbing for hours, demanding to go home to his dads.

[saintarc]

LOVE AT FIRST BITE. LOST CHAPTER #III.

♱⃬ ͏ ⠆ SWEET BLOOD OF AN INNOCENT SOUL. the decision has been made and his wishes has been fulfilled.

🦇 ͏⠆ gore warning. bone breaking, manipulation, irrelevant subjects' deaths, blood sucking, ooc zuko + aang. a lot of dark and twisted content. 1700+ words.

taglist ⌇ @tojiluv @ellzbellz @theblueslytherin @krokietino @purplepursepaint @katiemrty @tsxkkis @httpshujii @syomi @tnt-kokoo @suniika @camilo-uwu @mimifoodlover @whynotelli @rollssas

PAIN SCRATCHED HER SOUL. all of which came from the vampire of royalty from the fatefully cursed night. as zuko had told you, he has marked you— his scent along with a mix of vampire blood dominating your entire being.

to you, the curse wasn't that night that you just so happen to walk in all solitude, heading to a destination which you didn't even know where it is located. that night, your mind strayed off and carried memories of that morning where you see the vampire walking in daylight. could it all be a false image? perhaps it was someone else.

the real curse lies in the sharp fangs of a pale blood-sucking monster. the moment he started biting his own lip to mix his blood along with your own, his marking began. even you knew that, for the next few days after that occurrence, there was so much peace in the life of the dark.

zuko’s marking has magically worked on you and other creatures who prey on you. you experimented on yourself, who now has royal vampire blood in you. experiments such as cutting your skin, testing the mixed blood, and going under the sun.

your skin healed in rapid speed compared to the same cuts you inflicted on seira. the mixed blood has many more experiments to complete and the results have yet to show. what proved that your mind isn't actually dreaming or imagining the unsure memory of zuko in the inn, is the fact that you could walk under daylight without your skin burning or itching just a little.

you poured a drop of formulated liquid in a small sample of your blood and watched as it bubbled a little. there is no way to figure out how to complete your experiment without more of a vampire's full royal blood. but you needed to get your hands on a vampire princess or a prince first.

a sigh escaped your lips just as you flinched at the aching pain on your neck again. at random times, the spot where the two fang marks are embedded in your skin will burn. and honestly? it makes you want to dig your nails into your skin and claw and pull and rip your own skin off at how painful it gets sometimes.

“i’ve matched the samples, y/n,” your friend came into the experimental lab in your mansion basement and set her materials down. seira has concluded a partial of your experiment, and that was to see if zuko's blood matches the few centuries year-old’s vampire king, ozai.

“there's no doubt about it. vampire prince zuko is really a descendant of king ozai.”

how exactly did you get your hands on the vampire king's blood? well. your ancestors have battled him before, and they didn't forget to take an ample amount for future purposes. as of now, (you) are the purpose in this present moment where you would match the connection of an unbeatable vampire royal with his little version of an heir.

your lips didn't know what to do, how to react. the corners twitched a little, but it was itching to curve upwards. all of that in the excitement and victory that now you will have a whole family of insanely powerful individuals to defeat if you want the bloody havoc to end for the world.

“let us plan the downfall of perhaps one of their greatest vampires, yeah?”

in the dim room that smelled like agarwood and a mixture of honey from the odd choice of pancake for dinner that was lying above the table, waiting to be consumed by the mouth of the male who covered his nose in an attempt to sneeze or two, but ultimately failed.

there were the most grand and lost books neatly stacked on the bookshelves in the huge office of the prince. all human and vampire secrets lie within each corner of the office. and unfortunately, no other immortal soul could enter the room other than his family and a few of his friends.

aang, a pure blood from a vampire clan that controls the nightly clouds and wind. one of the immortals that zuko allows in his working office. of course aang is allowed. he is the prince’s fellow friend and a fellow little assistance to help in any of zuko's destructive plans.

“the silvernalle girl has the most delicious blood i have ever tasted with my tongue,” the prince told his company as aang snorted and tapped an 8ball that was displayed on the shelf. a gift from aang himself for one of the vampire prince’s birthdays.

“are you sure, zuko? you've tasted millions and millions of blood all your life. this girl couldn't possibly be the best…”

“oh but she is. a book written by count roku mentioned that only the tastiest of blood comes from a royal. perhaps she is of royalty.”

aang’s gaze shot towards zuko, a brow lifting. “what're you suggesting? that a silvernalle is possibly a princess? that's not how it works..”

“i’m just saying! princess or not, i want her blood all for myself,” zuko clicked his tongue in frustration at the sweet and metallic taste that he so misses at this very moment.

it was as if he couldn't live without your blood— always craving and itching to sink his teeth into your neck just to taste and swallow your human liquid all over again. what a truly rotten vampire to have a favourite human whom he only wants her blood.

to zuko, every other blood is different to him now. they all taste odd and weird and funny. it just doesn't feel right to consume blood other than yours. you, a woman who was born into a family that only seems to eliminate all bloodsuckers.

it was getting way too difficult to solve the prince's new obsession for a vampire hunter's blood.

“zuko, y’know you can just force her into your submission right?” the pureblood suggests. and a new idea sparked through the prince's mind at the genius tip from his friend.

prince zuko will slowly break you. just like what he is doing right now. the smell of the innocent and their red bodily fluids spreaded out every inch of the old ballroom, staining everything blood red. the smell is so prominent that it makes breathing difficult.

as you look at the prince far from you, but so close at the same time. his face is painted with the colours of evil, his mouth in such a line that it immediately tells you that zuko has no sympathy or empathy or anything close of that sort.

he's doing this for the fun of it. he is killing for the thrill of it.

it wasn't even that long that you miraculously entered this room of ghouls, monsters, and demons. on such a short notice, the vampire prince had already swayed you into an honourably dance.

all for your sweet, enticing human blood.

just because of you, this hall of nightly creatures have all breathed their last breath by the blade and a snap of a royal vampire’s fingers. all only for the sake of embedding threat and fears into your mind as a form of forcing you into submission as suggested by the pureblood vampire.

the sound of loud snaps came from the back as a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the entire hall. your eyes grew wide, slowly turning your head back to see the sight of a friend who's on her feet, her arm twisted in another direction and an unfamiliar male who held her twisted arm.

there were aching tears that spilled from your friend's eyes as her breath hitches from the impact she received.

“shall i break another arm, your highness?” aang asked as he grabbed seira’s other arm, letting the broken one fall to her sides.

“no no no no no no!” seira begged, shaking her head frantically.

you can see the fear displayed largely in her eyes. from head to toe, seira shakes, begging for her other arm to be spared. unable to speak as your throat felt like it had been pierced with a lance. you could only freeze and turn your head back at the prince.

“not yet, aang. ms silvernalle here must swear to me first,” zuko slightly tilted his head, looking at you like you are some bug. “what do you say, y/n? hesitate no more or your friend loses another body part.”

“you don't—” you coughed out, “you don't touch seira, wretched demon!”

a chuckle escaped from zuko's mouth. “break.”

“STOP!” you cried out just as the pinky of the hales’ was broken by aang who raised a brow before a big smile surfaced, ignoring the wails of the younger girl. “I'm gonna break her fingers one by one. slowly and slowly as you command me, zuko!”

“please i’ll die for you, vampire! just leave seira alone…” you fell on your knees, feeling an immeasurable amount of mixed emotions flowing out from the inside. “you can have my blood all you want.”

“l-lady silvernalle… you mustn't…” seira softly said with a broken voice. her voice sounded so painful in your eyes that you couldn't bare to look at her in this state. “we've come this far.. we can't let them win…”

“i’m gonna break another finger if you don't shut it, human girl,” aang threatened.

“aang, quit it.” zuko commands, aang releases his grip off of your friend. you felt the vampire prince’s cold and bloody fingers on your chin, lifting it up to look at him.

“you will provide me with your blood and i will consume it down to the marrow of your bones. do you understand, y/n silvernalle?”

“lady silvernalle no!”

“yes.”

a tiny and satisfied smile makes its appearance across zuko's cheeks as he leans in closer to seal the deal by pressing his blood-stained lips onto your own shaky lips. then and there, he grew his teeth into your lips just a little, sucking the flowing blood while also kissing you.

zuko pulled away after a moment, his lips stained with your blood and his blood red eyes shining in favour of the moon.

“you're mine now.”

© SAINTARC 2024, LOVE AT FIRST BITE. DO NOT REPOST OR ALTER.

[happyk44]

Frank having really bad depersonalization moments and realizing he can ground himself if he changes. So sometimes he'll turn over in bed and tell Hazel, "I'm going to be a bear today" and she kisses the top of his head and says, "Okay" and they move around some furniture and bear-proof things they can't move, and Hazel opens up the deep freeze to let some raw meat thaw on the counter for later, and Frank shifts and changes into a bear, or wolf, or cat, any animal his fuzzy head tells him will relax the world into a shape close enough for him to recognize again.

And sometimes it's enough to just be what he needs to be, to lay on the floor, furry and huge, while Hazel scratches behind his ears and he rests.

And sometimes it's not enough, and they leave for forests and plains and wildlife, and he shifts and changes and walks around with the creatures that match him. After a while, some accept him as part of the grounp. They croon when he leaves with Hazel, who sometimes waits at a safe distance, watching her boyfriend give in to animal urges, and they howl and roar and growl when he comes back days, weeks, months later.

They know he's different, but they accept him anyway. They teach him like a newborn, how to run, how to walk, how to hunt, how to stalk, how to fly high about the trees, how to shoot down to the ground. When he's human, he reads, he studies. When he's not, he observes and copies.

It helps him, it grounds him, it pulls back the cotton wrapped around his mind, and when he looks at furry paws or sharp talons, he doesn't feel as out of place as he did before. When he digs in deep dirt, or splashes into clear waters, or stalks prey with inhuman precision, it settles him.

There's a sense of power that rumbles deep in his warfare blood. He is kind, and he is a child of Mars, protector, peacekeeper, father of the Roman people. He leads predators away when he is prey. He cares for the young when requested. He watches nests with unborn eggs to keep them safe from predators and other sneaky birds. Urges mediation between factions.

Then strikes blood and vicious when there is no choice but to bite. He is kind, but he is angry, and he will fight cruel and head-on if he must.

When the day is done, and it's time to sink away, he nuzzles softly and calls out with a throaty caw and shifts scales for skin, fur for hair, talons for nails, and settles at Hazel's side.

Sometimes she stays and watches. Sometimes she leaves and lets him be. But she always kisses his face before he runs off and kisses him when he comes back. She always smiles and asks, "How'd it go? Feeling good?"

If he murmurs, "yes", she squeezes his hands, and shadows whisk them away. If he murmurs, "no", she squeezes his hands, and shadows whisk them away, and he settles on hardwood floors with soft fur and Hazel's calloused hands scratching away behind his ears.

There's no true perfection. The world is always twisted. His reflection is always wrong. His skin is always strange.

But he breathes better when his mind whispers rapid for claws and fangs and feathers and he agrees. The fog in his head lightens when he shifts. The world becomes clearer.

Sometimes its better for him to stay human. His furry skin feels strange when he shifts to battle. His beak pulls weird at his mouth. He doesn't feel real when he's an animal. He looks for ways to get around the necessity for fighting, for infiltration, for spying.

Then sometimes its a requirement. He needs to sink into colourful scales and fast fins to be real. Turning his skin into brown fur and his nails to sharp claws is the only option to settle his crawling skin and foggy reflection. Sometimes hung across Hazel's shoulders as a snake is what saves him from the numbness of his emotions.

Sometimes shifting is the only thing that keeps him alive.

[hearsayhorizons]

Thinktober 29: Massive

“Rose, what are you doing?”

“I want to know!” She’s got to know, but it’s the same thing after all these years. What’s in the river at the base of this chasm? The makeshift harness digs into my chest as I lower myself down the silk rope. The bridge and Lazo’s worried face get lost in the distance, and then darkness. This is fifty feet. Call it twenty-five, since I tied it off halfway across the bridge.

Something splashes again, just as I reach the end of my line. Lazo described goblins, water goblins, but those don’t exist here. But something slick and wet smacks at me from the darkness; I twist against the twirl and try to train the light from my jar of fireflies on it. A hiss; there’s something bug-eyed, web-fingered. I angle the light and get another hiss; a different hand smacks my leg again, and S’peiria’s gift tumbles from my fingers.

The waters go mad. I think Lazo screams overhead, but one of these—frogmen?--pelts into my chest from the water; the rope or the bridge or my chest snaps, and I drop the last few feet and plunge into the icy water. Darkness.

Darkness. I’m still cold, but not sodden. I still lurch upright and cough up water that isn’t there. Blinking stars—glowflies. The wind hisses through the trees. Not wind, not trees. I push myself carefully to my feet; my chest echoes pain, and so does one leg.

At the thought, the ground beneath me shifts; I drop back to my knees as it all rises.

This should be mundane. This should be ordinary after almost a decade working for S’peiria. She first summoned me to Nightmare while I labored as a runner—bait for forest monsters whose only objective was to lead them to the city and its archers until, eventually falling under tooth and claw. Or arrow. But S’peiria offered more... texture to the run. Not fleeing monsters, but chasing knowledge. She wants to know—everything.

She lifts me clear of the “trees,” and just like always, my stomach lurches. I sit on a fingertip almost an acre across. The whorls of her fingerprints are trenches. The upward slope of her arm is miles away, her face with its fangs and slitted eyes still huge despite the vast distance. She sits in an unfathomably large throne. Her hips feed into a tail that has no end. Her sinuous hair trails out into the distance. She sits amongst a maze of branches, paths, that aren’t branches.

The trees, the throne, the grass, and the serpents hissing through it all: S’peiria. Every inch of it leads back to her. She is the plane. I think the only outside lifeforms might be the fireflies. And me.

S’peiria lifts me a little closer to her face; even in the dim surroundings, her shadow falls over me.

“Rose, my wandering Rose. Compass Rose,” she murmurs as quietly as she can manage. She lifts her other hand—wider than some countries—and brushes the side of my face with the back of one pointed nail. “Dead, perhaps. But with curiosity on your lips.” She tilts her head, and a swaying tress of hair scents me gently. Her own breath gusts like the weather after a hard rain. A serpent shifts against and behind me; my jar of fireflies clinks against my fingers.

“Not tooth or claw or arrow. Just a frog. Let’s see what we can do about that.” In the twilight darkness, snakes hiss.

[paragonrobits]

A woman stands over a town, amid a copse of trees, staring out across the horizon.

She's smoking. It's not a cigarette, exactly, though its thick enough to be a cigar. What its filled with is something that is illegal in precisely seventeen different ways. It's something of her own making and she never smokes it in mixed company not least because she's pretty sure it might kill anyone else. Things explode when its being prepped. She inhaled a potent mix of euphorics and hallucinogenic smokes, the flavors of half a dozen other plants that had been germinated in soil festered with the brimming tears of a dozen nightmares and daydreams.

It gave her a pleasant buzz. Everything else boiled away in the back of her mind, a hooting and screaming cacophony locked tightly away. Her mind was her own to twist whatever way she wanted, and that wasn't a metaphor; her powers were... strange, but among them was the ability to alter her mood. She could go from calm to lustful to maddened rage to deadened neutrality all at once, like some god poking the weather controls to mess around with storms. Or in turn, she could spread those emotions to everyone around her.

For a moment she contemplated walking down into town and spreading some fuckin' chaos. Serve them right. Show them how pointless their little arguments were. See how long their pretensions to purity and cleanliness lasted when she danced through town and stirred up every horrible thing they didn't want to admit was true about themselves; force them to the mirror inside their head, and make them see the monster staring right back at them, every ugly little thing they didn't want to admit was real, the seething horrible thing clawing at the inside of their mind, every bad thought and every painful feeling they'd ever done to anyone else-

Just for a moment, faster than could be seen.

A green flame flickered on her breath, and her teeth looked sharp.

She sighed. "Fuckin' hell," she muttered.

At her feet, the plants grew thicker. Thorns dripping a terrible venom that would probably do very bad hallucinations on anything they poked curled like crooked digits, and as she paced, more plants grew in her footsteps.

Pace, pace, pace; every step, more things grew. In her wake things blossomed, in horrible and twisted life, but life nonetheless.

(She was many things. Expressed in many different ways; a rampaging destroyer fueled by wrath and vengeance. An ever-hungry thing of shifting swamps and ravenous greener. A juggernaut that would not, COULD not, be stopped.

And she was a mother. But motherhood is not necessarily a lovely thing, or sweet and soft. It can be cold and hard, ugly and grotesque. The process of birthing is, after all, an act of parasitism. Things grow inside you. Something apart from you, but OF you, twisting and shifting, and coming into the world on a tide of pain and blood and screaming.

When she had children, she suspected they would not look much like her. They would have scaled and claws and fangs, large glowing eyes and jawless faces. They'd howl and cry and scamper behind the cats, living among the kittens as one of them. She'd love them all, the beasts of her blood.

Her motherhood would be a vast sea, something of the primordial ooze and blood.)

Right not her foul mood was making her blood boil, and that wasn't a metaphor. Her veins visibly swelled and were turning a coppery color, little frothing bubbles visible against her skin, and she knew from unpleasant first hand experience that her blood was producing acidic qualities.

See her now, see her well; an impossibly huge woman, nearly twice the size of a normal human, grown to huge size by primordial powers settled in her. Something about her is... off, and its hard to say what. Perhaps its the way her eyes glow a faint green when she's annoyed. Maybe its that all her teeth come to inhuman points, or that her nails are thick and curved just enough to look like claws. And perhaps its that something about her gives the impression that this form is a facade, something to be abandoned when the mood and the feeling is right.

Down in the city...

A cat was crying. Tilting its little head up, and wailing piteously for someone to take care of it.

And above, her head turns sharply, and on instinct, she starts walking.

What the hell, she thinks. Enough feeling sorry.

There's work to be done and things what need help, and sitting up here being grumpy about people won't help anything out.

She crouches a little bit, and leaps.

That leap carries her all the way from outside town, right into the middle of it, all at once, and off she goes to attend her charges.

[froobyboo]

Whoops! Forgot to post this!

[widowsofchaos]

ill wind

summary: A drunken one-night stand takes a turn. pairings: dark!Wanda x black!reader x dark!Natasha warnings: (malevolent advantage of alcohol consumption, power manipulation, dub non-con/smut) I hope ya’ll enjoy! <3 ao3 a/n: Written for @that-damn-girl ‘s PRIDE challenge. Chose a scenario prompt “drunken one night stand” with my two of my fav marvel women. Many apologies for being rusty at my writing! Beta: by the beautiful @imanuglywombat Thank you, Laura for being such a great friend & for proof-reading! Thank you for the amazing commentary, you’ve been such a huge help on this fic! Xoxo psa: I had to repost this story again due to the original post being reported by tumblr for adult content, so here it is once again! Also, a big thanks to everyone liking this fic, I didn’t realize it would be a fan favorite until I kept getting tagged by other writers’ answering asks of readers asking about it! It means a lot, thank you!!

do not repost my works!

A surge of throbbing pain hits your head.

Somber shades of yellow and white marinate into a dewy flourish; trying to break through your fluttering lids. Three hearts beating under smooth silk sheets, limbs entangled, a blooming migraine bestows your crown.

A cheeky god who’s shit-eating grin is flashing before your squinting eyes, you huffed. Serves me right, I guess, you mulled. The rowdy tyke biting more than she can chew.

A cheeky god who’s shit-eating grin is flashing before your squinting eyes, you huffed. Serves me right, I guess, you mulled. The rowdy tyke biting more than she can chew.

Your hooded eyes sharply scan the bedroom, realization hits like a freight train – this isn’t your room. It’s familiar to memory, your mouth curves into a frown, you rub your eyes roughly. Trying to clear your vision, studying your surroundings thoroughly. Powering through blurry perception, your senses are a bit irregular, groggy.

You attempt to twist your body, metal clanks against the skin of your back. Nerves frigid at the slender-shaped leather sensation, your breathing is shallow, your brain is driving into overdrive, grasping at the assumption that it’s a belt; the horizontal form, and the shape of metal is a big clue of it’s identification.

The slick leather sliding against the nape of your back, traveling against the slope of your lower spine, regarding the patterns of the buckle that grazed against your ass.

Peering out of your blurry haze, your moist skin recognizes the flood of body heat.

Overwhelmed by your flush state, your crown shifts down and you almost choke on your spit and you almost choke on your spit. On your right, lying peacefully on her back is the Slovakian witch herself, Wanda. On your left, her face half-smooshed in the pillow, the Russian beauty herself, Natasha.

Anxiety rolls off of you in waves. Naked, and satiated with pouty sleepy lips – yourself bare as the day you were born. Arm draped gracefully over her face, the twinkle of a glimmering rock adorning Wanda’s left palm mockingly winks at you.

Whining very lowly, you leisurely twist your head to face Nat, curled near her head was another shiny rock snickering at you. “Fuck.” You cringe. Biting the bullet, you navigate through the migraine, bent elbows dig into the mattress, lifting your head up, weak fingers grip the sheets to cover your indecency.

On the floor, spews of clothes are scattered – your Alice Cooper shirt, your lace black thong, your denim shorts, your strapless bra – along with other familiar articles of clothing. A red string thong, a pair of high-waisted blue panties, a black button clad blouse, a leather skirt, – it was an Armageddon of fabric.

As your brain fizzles to calculate your escape, a featherlight fingertip grazes and tickles your neck, you gasped at the intrusion. Your head snaps to your left, green orbs pierce through you, “Hey.”, it was sultry, yet raspy.

A twinge at your core – no, no, no – this can’t happen. Becoming a homewrecker isn’t on your bucket list. “Hey – um, I don’t fully remember–” You were stuttering, never have you lost your cool. “I – fuck.” Your eyes downcast from Natasha’s intense stare and shame seeping through your bones; a dark chuckle erupts from her.

“It’s okay.” She cuts you off, with her knuckles caressing your cheek. “No need to be worried – or scared”, a feral grin, all fangs. Your mouth gaps opened, and closed like a blubbering fish. “I’m so sorry, Nat.” A bit breathless, tears form in your eyes.

Your head running miles per hour, tongue thickened with sincerity – worried that you definitely ruined one of your best friendships.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Your fumes are running on auto-pilot. A coy flutter of her lashes, “Why are you sorry? You weren’t saying that last night.” Your chin wobbles, “Excuse me?” A devilish smirk dons her mouth, you can tell she’s entertained by your confusion.

Natasha’s calm stature, coolly lifting herself by the elbows to sit against the headboard, bare milky breasts bounce free from the blanket – it throws you for a loop.

“Whatever I said last night –” Your fidgety fingers grip your messy curls, seeking an ounce of control, “–I was drunk. I – can’t remember. I know I probably said some stupid shit.” You harshly bite your bottom lip, drawing some droplet of blood through split skin, “Not at all, miláčik.” A soft Slovakian timber looms behind you, your entire body stiffens.

French manicured nails graze your tender shoulder blade, weaving a hiss through your teeth. Crudely tracing red claw marks, a shiver crawls through your spine; Wanda stifles a chuckle. “No need to worry, Y/n.” A peck on your shoulder, you gasp, flinching a bit away from her lips.

“No, this is so wrong. I ruined everything – I – need to go.” You stutter, averting your teary gaze away from both women. Fumbling and shaky hands tugging off the sheets, embarrassment surges inside of you due to your bareness.

Covering your breasts with your arms in shame, a disappointed sigh can be heard, a whizz of mesmerizing magenta energy floats and surrounds you. Your brain becomes fuzzy – dizzy numbness infiltrates you. Brown orbs criss-cross, a force heaves on your chest, pushing your body forcefully against the mattress – an ungraceful huff escapes you.

“Oh miláčik, you’re not going anywhere.” Wanda whispers, her knuckles softly caressing your cheek. “I–” Your mouth gapes to speak but you are cut off, “Quiet.” Natasha sternly demands, trimmed brows pinch menacingly. Wanda’s slender fingers flicker hairs-away from your lips; muting you.

“Do I really need to refresh your memory? Or do you want Wanda to just show you?” Natasha pucker lips sporting a faded tint of pink – a hint of last night’s rendezvous. Something is different in their eyes now; something darker. It nerves you, a force is weighing on your chest slightly more — leaving you gasping a bit.

You nod your head in Wanda’s direction, peering through squinted glossy eyes. Wanda’s open palm waves over your face, a flared energy of fluid orchid pink and creamy white whisk in a blurry mix.

Transporting your subconscious through a tunnel of faded memories – a film reel of the past — neon rainbows of worldly splendor travel around you. Kaleidoscope splendor.

Through a murky veil, your airy presence arrives at the living area — Stark’s late night party from last night in full swing. You are befuddled yet amazed beyond belief. The scents of alcohol roars in your nostrils and the crisp clear cadence of your tipsy friends flow through your eardrums – goofing off, and chatting – you can feel the atmosphere differently on your skin.

The chilled air that flows from the open balcony imbibes your flesh, goosebumps littering your translucent skin in its wake; your breath hitches at the tingles soaring through your body.

The powerful gifts Wanda possesses never fails to impress you.

Nimble feet waltz through the hallway, reaching to the common area, it felt as if another unknown force was guiding you – searching for your past self. Assuming by this time of the party you were already impaired off your ass. Your silent steps were transparent, featherily light against the flooring; the cool sensation grazing your toes.

The cheers rising in volume, the coil of anxiety curling in the pit of your belly. Forcing yourself to cease your pace, nerves overriding. Afraid to face the truth – realization that you slipped. How easy of you fall into their bed, like a slithering snake. Tears formed at the brims of your eyes – wiping the droplets away by the back of your palms.

A push collided against your back, an ungraceful yelp escaped you as you toppled over – your entire form floating, twirling a bit. Wiggling legs falter mid-air, hovering over the ground; trying to find your bearings. A force guiding you towards the common area. The aroma of liquor tickles your nostrils and boisterous laughter rings in your ears.

Easily you found past you hanging off of Thor’s extended bicep – like a monkey climbing a damn oak tree. You attempted to face-palm yourself, but your hand went straight through your ghostly face. It was free reign to wonder about the compound.

Fascinated to just linger around, seemingly waiting for your own mistake to be replayed for you. In the corner, you see Sam and Clint chuckling like a couple of knuckle-heads at you trying to bounce off of Thor. It was odd, you felt like you were in the film Ghost.

Wandering among friends, they walk right through your invisible disembodied form. In the corner, you see Bucky and Steve smooching on the couch, stealing cheeky kisses – a bit tipsy chuckles from Thor’s ale.

Your drunken form catches your eye, incoherent words to Thor, Sam, and Clint --- most likely you’re telling them that you were gonna rest for a bit. You saw your past self flop ungracefully on the couch, your eyes wearily fluttering open and shut.

Two shadows peer upon your body and you almost choke on your own spit. Wanda and Natasha sat on both sides of you, petting your hair and caressing your cheeks. Delirious you were, you slurred a hello. You squinted darkly at Natasha’s palm – it was a flask in her grasp.

Taunting you with a shake, promising more alien ale, in exchange to ‘hang out with us’; Wanda’s fingertips grazing your temples, snickering lowly. You are frozen in your spot as if the soles of your feet grew roots planting in the flooring. Deceit. It was a simple trick dealt by your own hand, your own inebriation used against you.

For a millisecond, you feel it was your own fault – following the wolves in sheep’s clothing. Aided by the sneaky claws of Wanda, and Natasha; trolling towards the elevator. Your breathing is sharpening, choppy pants squeezed from your lungs. The walls of the living area began shaking as if an earthquake was occurring.

Your subconscious begins deteriorating piece by piece. Vibrations begin surging throughout your body and in a glimpse, you see every member of your team in a mid-frozen state.

But in a flash, you see Bucky and Steve grinning with toothy Cheshire Cat smiles – following the direction of their gaze, staring at Wanda and Natasha dragging you away. It gives you a weird uncertain vibe, making you shiver.

The walls of the compound begin to crumble upon you. Vibrations surge throughout your body, almost losing your balance on your toes. You hold onto yourself, hugging your head in your arms. An efflux of bursting colors blinds you, swirling and erupting upon you. A force pushing you through the familiar tunnel of mist.

Deafening white noise pound in your ears, as if you are breaking through the ocean surface – wheezing for air, a heavy weight crawling off your chest. The blurry veil clears, your vision sharpens to see Wanda and Natasha hovering over you, smiling like the cats that got the cream. “You tricked me,” You stammered, fuming with rage but a flailing thread of humiliation.

Wanda clicked her tongue, wagging her finger at you – scolding you like a child. “We didn’t trick you. You came willingly. Right, Nattie?” Wanda cooed to Natasha, dreamily gazing at her. Natasha hummed, “Indeed, Maxie. All we did was follow –” the tip of Natasha’s finger softly grazed Wanda’s chin upward, a slow turn back to you, “--- You lead the way.”

“I was fucking drunk. I don’t even remember shit! You took advantage of me!” You barked, green and hazy blue hues darken. Natasha’s palm grips your jaw, emanating an ow from you – a bruising touch.

“Would you like Wanda to give you a repeat of it? I must warn you –” She leaned forward, lips almost brushing yours, “–you were very loud, and wet.” Nat’s voice was laced with malice.

“No.” A muffled whine slip from puckered lips pinched between her fingers. “You know – we could just give her a demonstration.” Wanda purrs, delicate hands find your body; snagging the sheets off your body, Natasha groans at the sight of your bare breasts.

Bending forward Wanda’s pink tongue darts from her plump lips, licking long strides against your dewy skin. Starting at the navel, her tongue traveling up to the valley of your plush breasts.

Cowering thighs clench shut, “Nuh uh, none of that.” Wanda’s sing-song reprimand makes you twitch at the pit of your belly. A fiery carmine mist infiltrates the air, twirling presence swirls around your crotch, and thighs – the force snatches your legs spread eagle-wide.

“You have no clue how long we have wanted you, huh?” Natasha coos crudely as your thighs slowly lift upwards, slowly your thighs lifted upwards, your kneecaps coming to rest against your supple breasts.

“You’re soaked, miláčik.” Wanda’s body glides with smooth precision, downward like agile feline; legs dangle in the air, ankles locked. Comfortably tucked between your legs like it was her rightful reign. Inhaling your sweet tangy scent emanating from your glistening cunt, her pink tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip. Long strides stroking inside your wet folds, shamelessly delving between short-fuzz mound.

“Delicious. Like a peach.” Tip of her moist tongue, twirling on your clit, “Hmph – fuck.” Your eyes fluttered to the back of your skull. Natasha licks a trail of warm saliva from your lush breast to your baring neck.

Suckling on your pulse point, you gasp a breathy groan. Teeth nip and scrape the skin ravenously, baring her fangs --- resembling her infamous Araneae emblem.

Sweet kisses to your collarbone, teeth nibble at your brown nipples, tantalizing tugging on the sensitive flesh – red nails painfully scraping into your ass cheeks, whimpers slither pathetically from your lips. Mewls from Natasha, a click of her tongue, tsking you as if you were a cat, a mere pet to play with. Your lips form into a thin line, forbidding any involuntary moans to slip.

“Twah. Don’t hold back those sweet noises, baby.” Wanda lulling you, following with a salacious bite on your inner thigh, you yelp trailing into a pathetic moan as she licks against the mark. “We had you singing like a canary last night,” Natasha speaks huskily against your cheek, nibbling a bit. “You may be restraining, trying to be quiet. But you’re just one loud girl, just like your mind.” Natasha said lowly, your dazed eyes trying to concrete.

“Loud thoughts, and vivid fantasies.” Wanda’s lips pucker to suckle throbbing clit. You grunt, Natasha pinches your nipple — earning a squeal from you. It was painfully delicious — you can’t lie — your body definitely can’t hide the fact. “There you are, darling.” Natasha’s voice drips with husky lust, a second twist.

You yelp, your head tilts back and strains against the pillow — welcoming the sting whole-heartedly. Natasha cups your breast jiggling it a bit; flicks her tongue against the erected nipple and suckles it in her entire mouth. Your whole breast devoured, you hiss, peeking through your lashes — it was sinful how her pink saliva glossed lips engulf your tit.

How her tongue lapped at your nipple with such hunger. Worships you into the cave of her mouth. Her sneaky fingers snatch the other one — twisting and twirling mercilessly between her finger-tips. It’s sloppy, filthy, and fucking dirty — and wrong. You feel as if you could pass out. The soppy slurps from Natasha and the leg-shaky clit bites from Wanda were pushing over the edge.

You push your waist up and down, riding Wanda’s tongue; for a moment you lose yourself. Her hot tongue gliding between your velvet folds, how her tongue coats in your essence.

Wanda’s soft palms glide against the curves of your thighs, her nails scraping against the flesh. You jolt as she swats against your underthighs. Harsh painful slaps, as she eats you out. The heat of the slaps is scorching in your pores, adding salt to the wound — Wanda digs nails a bit more to relish in your squirming.

“Ow.” It’s small, but it’s heard. Wanda removes her lips from your pearl, you pitifully whine — frantically, you hoist your head to glare at her. A trail of white saliva connects from her bottom lip to your clit, she twirls her tongue in a languid twirl; collecting all of it.

Licks her upper lip, like a feline just drank the dairy. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Wanda smacks your glistening cunt, a wicked snicker. You wail, it’s a tug of war for you. You don’t want to be here, getting eaten the day-lights out of you, and your tits suckled.

You need time to decompress on the fact, you had sex with two of your best friends — who are married. Who you had the biggest crushes on – but you can’t risk losing a full-fledged friendship over lust.

Two sets of slender fingers plunge inside you, snapping you out of your thoughts, as the pad of Wanda’s thumb rubs manic circle motions on your throbbing clit.

“Get out of your pretty head, miláčik.” Tears form at the brims of your eyes, shaking it no — you can’t risk losing this friendship. “Do you really think you can bypass a spy and a telepath?” Natasha’s voice was like a crackling fire, dragging you out of your conflicted thoughts.

“Did you think we wouldn’t see how you gaze at us, huh? All those thoughts swarming in there?” Her index gently taps the center of your forehead. It was difficult to fully concrete or even speak coherent words as Wanda was teasingly inserting her fingers in and out of your wet cavern; ceasing her thumb a bit.

Speechless — what could you say to that? “Worried on becoming a homewrecker?” You were stuttering a bit, you still needed space to adjust, what if this doesn’t work out, and you were stuck in the awkward middle? “I–I need some time —” Natasha’s eyes darken, refusing to accept your rejection. You didn’t even have the proper choice — you didn’t have a choice.

It was a drunken one — barely a choice filled with manipulation and trickery. “No.” She hisses, gripping your jaw, you whine lowly in your throat at her harsh grasp.

Without wavering her eyes from yours, as she steals a bruising kiss. Wanda’s eyes ignite to fiery red, hitting your sweet spot hard, and brutal. You shriek, trying to worm yourself from Wanda’s grasp — but no success. Wanda’s mist restricts and pins you against the bed, her jaw tightens and clicks.

“You can’t escape us. We want you just as bad as you want us.” Wanda’s viscous fingers split you open, squelching; not once allowing a second of adjusting. As if her powers were electric at the tips of her witchy fingers, you felt a zap inside you. Oh, how a wicked bulb lits upon her head. “I have an idea.” Wanda hums with an evil smirk, stopping her actions.

“I don’t even have to touch you to make you cum.” Wanda guides Natasha away from your aching body by the shoulder. Her slim fingers contort as she sits on her knees, red energy emits, and swirls from her hands.

Manipulating your senses, fire brewing at your nerve endings, unadulterated ecstasy brimming at the pores. Wails leave you like hymns, your lips forming into an O; eyes pinched shut as your back arches off the mattress.

Hissing through your teeth — it’s electric. Enthralling as you twitch under Wanda’s command. Jittery spasms as a coil at the pit of your belly began twirling bigger, and bigger. “She’s getting close. I can smell it on her.” Natasha whispers, her breasts heaving a bit from her chest swelling from excitement, her smug smile curling from her lips.

“I can feel her energy. It’s heavy and intoxicating.” Wanda’s head was in a haze, as she connected with your spirit, along with Natasha’s. A connection. To intertwine — but not for herself, with extra concentration, it is sizzling erotic as Natasha’s charka intertwine with Wanda’s as it chokes your inner essence.

Wanda’s fingers pinching in the air, weaving your life-force, your hips bucking into the air, as your impending orgasm is roaring — your pussy is swollen and soaking. Your soppy hole clenches and pulsates against an enigmatic fullness, Wanda exploring yet violating your cavern — touching against your moist walls, your clit throbbing and hot.

“Fuck — I — I need to c–cum!” Sputtering over your blubbering lips, a snarl rumbles in Wanda’s chest, as she hovered a bit by the knees, the power over three energies was carnal.

Natasha’s head tilts backward, her fiery hair curtaining her face, her baby-hairs sticking against her forehead from brewing sweat; pinching her nipples painfully between her fingertips, groping her breasts in the cups of her palms. “I need to feel her cunt against mine.” Her voice is hardened and desperate.

Natasha’s head snaps upward, staring directly at your sweltering face, the greenery in her pupils darken and dilate.

A growl seethes from Natasha’s wet lips, low and dangerous. Your muscles shake; pleasure engulfing your limbs, weakly trapped in this mystic force, forced to enjoy Wanda’s manipulation. Moving like rivers upon your skin, unraveling waves washing over you — suffocating, painfully sweet.

Despite Wanda taking unbridled control, ravaging your body as if she owns it, weaving pleasure from you as if she knows your body from the inside out, as if she knows every sweet-spot, and tick inside you for years — there is a layer of gentility. Impulsive, yet soft. A tender lover, a pinch to savor.

Groans, grunts, and high-pitched moans echo as corrupted sympathies and bounce against the wall pavements, ringing in your ears. Flushed cheeks, sepia skin now tinted with pinkish shades spreading throughout your body.

Bliss swelling and sealing in your limber legs, aching in the best possible way. Cattle-wails of desperation, a dribble of cum trails between your wet folds and between your cheeks hitting your puckered asshole.

Wanda’s witchy slender fingers fiddle, makeshift claws to create more pressure — releasing more telepathic vitality for Natasha and yourself to ride out your orgasms.

With a flicker of Wanda’s index finger – maneuvering to the form of a pistol – a trigger, a jolt of energy bolts at your navel. A bullet. You convulse, airy pants, your torso heaving with your thighs quaking in its tight hold.

A snap bursts within you, your eyes opening widely, translucent colors combust upon your vision — worldly satisfaction manifesting into reality. In unison, all three souls unleash guttural moans.

Wanda’s fingers tremble, sucking in breath through her teeth, her energy fading into thin air, retreating back into her palms. A sharp guttural groan spilt from Natasha, a skin-peeling frenzy; basking in the astral aura that is the Slovakian witch. Your thighs collapse down debilitating from your torso.

Almost falling like an empty sack, Natasha tries to steady her breathing, as she loses herself completely at the heightened senses of her orgasm. It was such a sight, heaving over, crooked elbows denting against the mattress — on all fours, her spine heaving upward as tremors convulsed.

Never have you ever seen Natasha lose her stature in all the years of knowing her, ever so the chilling demure nature — only in your wildest fantasies have you dreamt of Natasha torn at the seams.

At the corners of her jaw, was tinged pale pink upon a damp milky surface, with her glossy eyes, adding to the primal gaze. Zoned out, peering through her lashes, her eyes are feral. Unhinged, ready for the kill.

“Keep her legs open.” Natasha hisses, nostrils flaring. Wanda slithers away, wobbling a bit by her knee-caps. Humming with a knowing smirk at Natasha, licking her upper lip with her pink tongue – she knows what Natasha wants. “I want her mouth.” Wanda snickers, a glint of mischief at her eye. Hastening breath fans over your bare shoulder, from her button nose against your sculpted collarbone.

Choking a bit, gasping for a full breath to tame your heightened nerve endings; your mouth parted. Gulping back your dry throat.

Wanda clicks her tongue, her nimble fingers trace the lines of your lips. “Keep that mouth open, dove. I’m going to quench your thirst.” Sneaky mind-reader. Sultry thick accent spells you for a momentary lapse.

“Please, wait. Give me a momen — aggh!” A plea falling on deaf ears is strangled into a wanton cry. Your hands shake, hugging yourself against your chest, arms crossing; trying to comfort yourself.

A painful slap against your clit, over-sensitive and squirming. Heat blooming throughout your hooded clit. “I don’t think so. We’ll stop when we say, got it?” Natasha snipes.

A pregnant pause.

Smack.

“Understood?” Natasha barks again, with a vengeful clap of her hand — as if it possesses the power of a god, unmerciful; but worships you in the smooth rubs on the stinging flesh. Your lips parting into a moan, a few sniffles muffled — it’s whiny and pathetic.

“Don’t cry. We’ll make you feel good again. Don’t you want that?” Wanda’s lips hover over you, against your cheeks, her teeth slightly grazing against your skin. A bite at your inner thigh, a warning. Natasha’s more aggressive. Wild, impatient, and just savage to devour you, for you to comply with their demands.

“Yes. Just wait, I’m sensitive.” You needed a reprieve, a breather from the intense third-eye cosmic orgasm you just had a few minutes ago. “No time to waste.” Wanda perks, a soft kiss on your lips. The witch balances herself over your head, trapping your skull between her thighs. Above your lips was her peach-fuzz cunt, dripping and inviting.

A tiny voice at the back of your head informing you that this is beyond wrong, red flags and alarm bells ringing that the circumstances after this will be catastrophic.

Fingers sliding in your curls, glides open-palm against your head, “C’mon, dove. Open wide. We know you’ve dreamt of having a taste. Don’t be shy now. You weren’t last night.” Wanda’s clutch shifted into an iron grip, pain over-riding your humiliation.

“Loud, wet — very eager to please, to impress.” Natasha kept listing off how you acted in bed, closing your eyes shut in embarrassment. What if this is just a tryst? A mere game for a married couple to spice their sex life? Years worth of emotional baggage and scars begin surfacing to your murky mind. A good lay.

And when Wanda and Natasha are done with you without a second thought, using your body after a good late night and morning fuck, despite questionable undertones --- confusion.

Your body yearns for their touch, going against your better judgement; it’s best to sit down and discuss this like rational adults. Another part of you wants to claw at both of them, for lying to you. Using Thor’s ale against you to lure you to the lion’s den. What if after this, they don’t want you? A mind-game to throw you off. Fearing to lose a friendship over a momentary lapse of hot sex.

Restricting back burning tears, ‘very eager to please, to impress.’ That’s you, always ready to bend over to get people to like you — it even transcended into your sex life. Motivated by liquor and you lost yourself to lust and temptation, although these two used your drunk state against you. A humiliating sight you probably were.

“Get out of your head, miláčik.” You sigh, slowly opening your eyes. Your breath hitches, Wanda stares down at you with sympathetic hues. “We’re not going to throw you away. We’re not going anywhere.” Relenting her harsh grip, the pads of her fingers soothe the remaining ache.

“You’re ours.” Firm and demanding. Natasha spreads your weak legs open once again, positioning herself to sit interlocked with you. Natasha hums, “Don’t even think of leaving us. You know we’re capable of catching you. Chain you to the bed if we have to.” Her cunt against yours, clit to clit.

You can feel the wet slick that coated between her asscheeks, a slip n’ slide as her ass sprawled against your wet thigh. Her fingers clawing against your thigh to top it over her leg. Quaking a bit, a shiver crawls up your spine.

The insanity of it all, you just wanna hide away. “Be good, miláčik.” Wanda descends upon your face, her natural essence wafting deeply in your airways — flooding your senses. You shouldn’t be thriving off of this sex but it was hot and incredible.

Wanda comfortably situates herself as if she sits on a throne —- as if she owns you. Your protests are muffled into mumbles, as your lips wrap around her swollen snatch. Your nose nestled against her short curls, the tender skin was like silk against your palate.

A crude shift from Natasha’s waist, a strident thrust as she begins tribbing you, you are moaning against Wanda, herself shuddering as her hips sway up and down upon your cheeks.

Vulgar Russian curses heave from Wanda’s lips, high-pitched and transcending into orgasmic nirvana. Natasha is growling — slipping into Russian curses and wanton moans — taking what’s hers as she keeps riding herself on you. Sucking through your teeth, you nibble on Wanda’s clit, and tugging her slippery labia between sucked in lips.

Vociferous wails and whimpers, a cadence of sticky slick mixing from one cunt to another. A lubricant that was chafing against flesh. The lewd differences between these two women is clear as day.

Wanda is the bright sunny day and Natasha is the inky night. Soft is Wanda in shades and colors; with benevolent timbre. Amorous is Natasha but in darker tints, with a reserved mask; with raspy timbre. Both ravenous for control. The pinnacles of what many women strive to be with superior intellect, beauty, and brawns.

Being the gay bottom you are, it’s no surprise for you to be charmed by such powerful women. After many hookups with women over the years, this was the most intense and enthralling one yet.

Years of crushing on them from afar has led up to this. Fresh-faced and more enchanting than before, Wanda sighs in content and victory, as she gawks down at you from her tottering head. Her tousled tresses curtaining her cheeks, riding with more enthusiasm as your lashes flutter. With a dominant drive, Natasha’s groans as she’s close to cum.

Her wetness and yours adds to the sensation on your clit. All three bodies fumbling at bit from the brutal-pace of face-fucking and cunt riding. The headboard hits the wall a bit, matching the frenetic grinding of skin to skin.

Shedding their heroic femme skins and turning into savages. Nasty. Filthy. Corrupt. Your fingernails dredge into Wanda’s femurs, prowling skyward the sweaty region of her hips, to the toned plains of her tummy to finally the mountain peaks of bosoms.

Pinching her pink nipples between your fingers to the point of making her yelp, it was an unspoken incentive for her to ride your mouth harder. Teeth tenderly gnashing inside her pussy lips.

Ragged murmurs, clipped curses, and taunts – You like it? Yeah, you were made to be under us, withering, and shaking. You want me to cum all over your face, pretty girl? Have Natasha drown your pussy with her cum? Yeah, dove, I can feel your clit pulse against mine!

Shocked silence as your astonished eyes widen, your mouth is flooded with cum. Rendered speechless, airy gasps from Wanda and Natasha is still upon your cunt, small mewls from her, now beyond sloppy and wet; a mixture of your cum and hers. Natasha’s hips juddering against yours, riding the last of her orgasm.

“What a good dove, we have,” Natasha speaks through the thick silence. Wanda hoists herself up by the knees, as you gasp for more air — your entire mouth now glistening with her fluid.

“Yes, she’s so good. Took everything we gave her like a good girl.” Wanda coos at you, hooded lids with a sultry curve of her lashes flutter at you; jolting away as she laid back on the bed with a wheezing breath. Regaining her composure, her dainty fingertips graze against your sweaty forehead to flip curls that strayed on your eye-lids. It was intimate, too intimate — it is the touch of a lover.

Natasha releases your leg, it was a bit strained from her fingernails and tight grip. Her hands cup your tummy, kissing by the navel; as she repositions herself by your side, mimicking her wife’s action. Caressing hands on your arms, dainty fingers soothing against your breasts, and shushing your rapid breaths.

Sandwiching you between themselves, a sudden direction on your belly was taken. Both Wanda and Natasha soothe the smooth clammy skin, with curling smirks that were both devilish yet attractive.

With a silent conversation that you aren’t privy to, confused as they both looked at each other with knowing gloating stares. Wanda takes her own pillow and fluffs it between her hands, as Natasha upraises your curved hips. Once again, you’re left in the dark, thrusted back into demoralization and bewilderment.

Is this it? Now that this married couple — who you idolized, and cherished this friendship with — has had their fill, who are you to them? Words birthed during the mist of lust are empty promises most of the time. Is this friendship over? Do you even have the mental capacity to continue this friendship after this tirade?

Bone-shattering orgasm after orgasm was ripped from you, and yes, it was amazing to the core, but there was a part of you in the midst of clouded hazy sex, that you didn’t want it. To be touched, you just wanted some space to recollect and process your feelings about this entire messy ordeal. You’re not sure what you want really out of life --- especially out of a polygamorous relationship.

What does this say about Natasha and Wanda?

This was a scene contrasting their usual masks of personalities, yet it molds and blends into their psyches just accordingly. It’s terrifying.

You stiffen at the revelation, serrated images were slowly circulating around your mind like the stingers of raging wasps; the small brushes of knuckles against yours, the over-friendly back massages, the persistent need to have you in their presence at all times that was mislabeled ‘just to hang out’ and ‘we miss our best friend.’ And with your yearning affection, it was easy to follow the wolves to the den for the slaughter.

Facades of kind smiles, words of advice, late-night talks that delved into and entrusted girl nights — was something darker, something sinister boiling underneath the surface.

Palms driven with cursory attached upon your arms, gripping and digging; it is demanding. Scooping underneath your bum, open palms gripping your globes, and heaving upward so your hips are positioned in the air. Wanda grabs an extra plush pillow, and Natasha maneuvers your bottom down on the pillow.

“What are you two doing now?” You are a bit irritated – tone clipped – at your running-at-a-mile per second thoughts, and sore at the muscles.

“Hush, you’ll see.” Wanda snickers, as she plushes the pillow underneath your bum. Natasha gingerly holds you down as Wanda dashes to the nearby bedside drawer. Her open-palms caress your belly, ogling with much affection and pride.

“I can’t wait.” A soft smooch above your located uterus. Anxiety filling your veins at the unknown, you begin wiggling in Natasha’s tight hold. Wondering what in the fuck, she meant. “Relax. Let it happen.” Natasha’s words were not settling your nerves, it only makes the panic hitch.

In Wanda’s palm was a turkey-baster, filled to the brim with white sloshing liquid. Eyeing the baster with pure excitement shining in her eyes, her eyes nearly criss-cross as she inspects the foreign fluid almost oozing out of its confinement.

“Perfectly curated semen for the perfect womb.” A bulb breaks and explodes in your head — emptying your dome into nothingness — thrashing in Natasha’s lethal lock. She sighs with a disapproving shake of the head, stretching your arms into a pretzel lock against your chest; painting brown skin in splotches of lavender hand-prints.

Whilst Natasha confines your fore-arms in her restraints for hands, putting weight on your upper body into the bed; Wanda’s eyes glow with fury, once again forcing down your legs. “Relax, dove. This is what we wanted with you for so long. Don’t you want to be with us?” Wanda seethes with a crooked grin, as she leers down at your shaking body.

How she revels in your weak state under her touch. Makes her urges to fuck you with her strap and make you scream like the perfect little bitch you are. Their perfect dove.

“Why?” A watery cry, before succumbing to your fate — who are you to fight against a powerful telekinetic, and one of the world’s greatest retired assassins? The only outcome would be death.

“Because we love you. You’re the one to carry our baby. I can just —” Natasha groans, her eyes rolling back in yearning. “– imagine your belly swollen, waddling bare-foot. Breast-feeding — fuck — you’re already breath-taking, miláčik, but God, you’re going to give us heart-attacks.” Her voice drops an octave lower. Natasha leans her head lower, a kiss on the crease between your brows.

Your body shivers as you feel the chilled tip of the turkey-baster nearing your gaping hole, you begin weeping quietly.

Wanda shushes you, “It’s okay, milacik. You’re going to be a great mommy. Three mommies and two daddies. The baby will be the most beloved and protected little one.” A warm smile graces Wanda’s rosy cheeks. Three mommies? A dream of having a family now enforced upon you, this is a clusterfuck. Firstly, tricked by your own drunken state, second, pinned down for morning sex, and now you’re going to be impregnated by a fucking baster?

Wait --- two daddies?

“Two daddies? What? Wait, who’s the father?” You shrill, your head struggling to peak down at Wanda as she paused mid-way from inserting the cum; your eyes wild and glossy. Wanda chuckles, it sounds genuine — it’s anything but.

“Not just one father, miláčik. Our dutiful Captain and Sergeant.”

You feel light-headed, a hay fever flooding your dome. The tips of your ears feel hot, your head flops back down onto the pillow with a fluffy thud.

An incoherent whisper. “What was that, dove?” Natasha’s thumb rubbing your wrists, coaxing you to speak up. “How is that possible?” You wept, fresh tears coating your face.

“Anything is possible with modern enhanced technology. Now a baby can be genetically linked to two fathers. Isn’t that marvelous?” Wanda gleamed a cheeky smile, her eyes twinkling with unnerving mirth. “Why Steve and Bucky? Do they know what you’re doing?” You almost choke on a strained whine, your face scrunching up tightly.

Praying that Steve and Bucky didn’t have any involvement, nor a speck of encouragement of this insanity. “Of course, they know. We all made the plans together.” Wanda’s hand rubs your thigh to calm you but it only adds to your fright.

“Steve and Bucky are ready to settle down, they always dreamt of having kids. They love you and know you would be the perfect mother to their child. Our child. We’re all going to be one happy family.” And without any moment to spare, Wanda gently thrusts the baster inside of you, squeezing the silicone bulb firmly. You gasp as you felt every drop paint your walls white, drowning inside you.

You twitch in discomfort, your head thrashing side to side, your cheeks hitting the wrinkled sheets. Mutely screaming, teeth gnashing at the air, refusing to accept the inevitable. Natasha peppers your face with kisses to calm you down.

Whispering declarations of love, you restrain any more tears to escape. Wanda cups your belly, it was very subtly swelled from the massive load. “Look how much went inside, Nattie.” Wanda alleviating your distress by small circular motions.

Natasha halts her kisses. She titters a bit, “Well, I’m not surprised. Two enhanced soldiers will deliver a copious amount of cum.” Natasha joins in on the soothing strokes by her fingers. A splotchy memory of Steve and Bucky wickedly smiling while your drunk-self was dragged away to your fate.

Betrayal.

Two people you trusted for years – who you considered close friends — played a role in this capture of enforcing a life of motherhood upon you. You didn’t realize lone tears were trickling down your face until you felt a thumb wipe away.

“Don’t fret, milacik. This will be good for you. For all of us. We know what you need.” Wanda kisses your waist and travels upward your chest in a trail of kisses; as she climbs on you, cuddling by your side, wrapping her arm around your hips, and a leg around yours.

“We’ll treat you so well. Like a queen.” Natasha loosens her grip on your arms, easing the aches in your muscles, but detaining you, to ensure you won’t escape from their grasp. Natasha plants a leg over your legs, positioning next to Wanda’s, sandwiched, and suffocating.

Laxing your body from stiffening under their touch, just trying to mindlessly drift into an impending hazy slumber. “Let’s rest. We’ll tell Bucky and Steve the good news later.” Natasha says in a lulling tone, as both women cuddle to squeeze much closer to you as if they want to reside underneath your skin — tightly, and smothering.

Sedately, your eyes close. Tentatively, their breathing morphs into your focal point, to hear Natasha’s and Wanda’s settle into steady rest. Urgently needing your privacy in sound, and body --- away from nosey intruding psychic.

As you lay there, mute and digesting the perverse treachery like a dry pill ripping down your throat, your tongue weighing heavy, barely registering reality.

Murky thoughts try to align in correction, not to bemoan over the guile that is Natasha and Wanda that was akin to pistoling barrage upon your spirit.

The soft fabric of the pudgy pillow wedged underneath you was burning against your bum, an indicia that could compel an unsought future. The tact to force maternity upon your life, your womb is now without doubt, fertilizing soldier swimmers.

What can you do now? How can you battle against the odds of the inevitable? Cuffed emotionally, and intimately by ex-friends deformed into duplicitous lovers who are now dead to you, and buried in deep, fresh graves in the crevices of your heart.

You must learn from the suffering, and brace the ugliness of being a fool. Your shudder, and bite back a sob as jagged remnants began floating behind your lids of last-night that was thick of debauched moans as slim fingers plunging into your cavern; it was a fleeting splash of excitement but it simmered and dwindled into a piercing ache in your chest.

It was euphoric, but not simply euphoric, there was fear and confusion intertwined too. For many years, you had grappled many weights of trauma, but you couldn’t stomach two damaged hearts.

Love me, love my dog — or so the saying goes. Can you handle being a mother? Are you even capable of being a good mother? You almost snort at the ridiculous notion.

What if aborti--- Jesus, you wouldn’t be able to go far with that option. It’s not even a fucking option. ‘Not with these two.’ You internally huff.

So you’ll wait. Wait it out, move in silence, map out your next course of action. Figure out escapes, leaving behind your life as an Avenger, and the only family you’ve ever had — just be quiet, comply and wait.

All you could do is wait.

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Spawn

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rough Sex (Vaginal), biting, scratching, breeding, oviposition, dub/noncon, kidnapping, cursing, blood, use of aphrodisiac, interspecies sex (merman and human), mentions of drowning Words:   5579 Pairing: Mer!Bakugou Katsuki x Human Fem!Reader

a/n: I’ve been getting quite a few requests for mermaid breeding. This... is probably not what you were wanting or expecting, so I won’t include anyone’s request here lol. I may write something a little... gentler later on.

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Tags: @lady-bakuhoe​​, @hoefortodo​​, @sunkissedneptune​​, @softkatsuki​​, @marilla-eldriana​​, @sanurrwrites​​, @hopeismyhope101

There was something different in that familiar crimson gaze today. You hadn’t thought much about it at first, but now, it stuck out to you as something that should have been a huge red flag. The instant you had seen him glaring at you over the water's surface, you should have run away. You should have called to him from the safety of land, to tell him you really weren’t feeling well and decided to go home. Or that you had some type of rash or injury and didn’t want to get too close to the water? Would he have believed you? Probably not. You weren’t sure of what type of fit he would have thrown if he would have tried to persuade you to come to him or just dragged himself up into the sand to chase you down. 

He was strong enough to do that. His upper body strength matched the incredible power of his tail, his arms, and core easily able to lift himself up or drag himself around. If you ran at full speed, he couldn’t get you. Maybe. You couldn’t really think about something like that though right now. The fact of the matter was you hadn’t taken his glare as something menacing. You had ignored the rolling sickness in your stomach, the little voice in your head that told you to flee. Now, it was too late for you to do anything. 

You were as happy to see him as you had always been, greeting the merman with a cheery wave and a smile as you stepped into the rolling ocean waters. You hadn’t even made it a few steps into the cool water before he was suddenly at your feet, snatching you by the ankles and dragging you deeper into the water. The impact of falling on your back onto the hard, wet sand knocked the air out of your lungs, and before you could even breathe again, you were struggling to keep your head above water. 

He hadn’t dragged you out too far, but right now, the distance wasn’t really what mattered. You were completely pinned down to the sand, his heavy red and orange freckled tail resting over your chest to keep you down. Your legs were in his tight grip, held under the knees, and spread open so his head had easy access between your legs. The rolling waves didn’t affect him at all, but as they came washing over your face, you felt as if you might just drown. It was difficult and painful to find the opportunity to inhale as much air as you could when the tide pulled out, gasping and coughing to try and purge the burning saltwater from your lungs before you were overwhelmed again. 

It wasn’t just the water that gave you the feeling of drowning. His tongue, slick and hot against the cold ocean water, was lapping at your cunt eagerly. When he had torn your swimsuit, you weren’t sure. But again, you weren’t sure of anything that was happening to you right now. Why was he eating you out like this? He had never shown any sexual interest in you for the months you had known him. In fact, he hadn’t shown any romantic interest at all. At least, not any that you had been able to notice. Bakugou Katsuki, this fierce and aggressive merman, had originally saved you from drowning while out on a tour boat during vacation. You had been so grateful to him, so you made it a point to come visit him as often as you possibly could. You liked him. But this? This isn’t how you wanted things to happen. 

You had fallen for him. You loved him. But, how could you? You were from two completely different worlds. There was no possible way that you could be together outside of close friends, and that was even a conversation you already had. 

“There’s no way I’d ever fall for a stupid human like you! You can’t even swim!” 

So why was he doing this? Why was he holding you down just for the chance to eat you out so vigorously? If he would have just hit on you a little sweeter, maybe you would have given in to him and you could both enjoy the experience to the fullest. But all of this was for his own gratification, for whatever he felt like or wanted to do with you. It was hard for you to think with the weight on your chest, the water crashing down on your face, and the burning heat between your legs. 

God, it was hot. His tongue and his mouth were like fire, sucking and lapping at your clit with such fierce intensity. You knew that you shouldn’t be feeling good, that you should be screaming for help and struggling against him. No one would hear you this far down the coastline, anyway, but the point still stands. You should have been trying. Instead, all you could do was lay there, your nails digging into the slippery scales of his tail, fighting between coughing, moaning, and yelling out in pain. 

The longer his tongue ravaged you, the hotter you began to feel. It was so odd, how every nerve in your body was so sensitive. You had sex before, but your arousal never peaked to this level so early on. Why? Why was it happening? Why was he doing this? You didn’t want this. Did you? Of course, you didn’t. You wanted him to stop. 

“B-Bak-ack!” You hacked and coughed as water rushed into your mouth the instant you tried to speak, using what little strength you could to push yourself up on your elbows. “Bakugou, please-- please, stop-!” A yelp ripped from your throat as his hot tongue left your burning pussy, his teeth and fangs sinking into the plush meat of your inner thigh. Piercing the skin, the saltwater immediately began to burn the wound, but you still found yourself unable to pull away because of his hold on you. Even the slightest twitch had his nails digging into your skin, and by the reaction he gave from your attempt at begging, he didn’t want you to make a single move. 

His tongue ran over the now bleeding bite mark, a low groan rumbling from deep within his chest. He had found something new to taste, and he did so eagerly. “Fuck, you’re so delicious. So sweet and healthy… You’re perfect. I’ve always known you’d be perfect.” His words were almost slurred as if he were a drunken man on a ramble. That was the only way you could describe his actions as if he were intoxicated. But by what?

“I… Bakugou, what-” With a swift change of positions, you were suddenly beneath him, his hand on your throat and entire body weight on you. Before you could even scream or attempt to struggle, his mouth crashed down on yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. The metallic taste of your blood would have immediately made you gag if not for the tight grip he had on your throat, which was only further making you light-headed. You tried to push up against his chest, scratch at his arms, and push his hips off you with your legs, but you couldn’t. There was no energy or strength behind your struggles. 

In an instant, everything stopped. Bakugou removed his tongue from your throat, snapping his head up to look towards the beach. Before you noticed what he may have been looking at, you could hear him beginning to growl, a deep and threatening sound that made your stomach twist nervously. What was he looking at? 

With his grip still on your neck, you didn’t have much movement, but you didn’t need it. You could hear the voices of a group of people. How far away or what they had seen so far, you couldn’t tell, as the sound was muffled by the water around your ears. The need to protect yourself suddenly burst forth and you screamed out as loudly as your burning lungs would let you, forcing your body to thrash and struggle even as your limbs burned with searing pain. Had you said anything comprehensible? Had they heard you? 

They wouldn’t have been able to save you, anyway. You already knew that your fate was in Bakugou’s hands. 

In a rush of crushing water, churning foam, and stinging sand, you felt Bakugou snatch you by the right ankle and drag you out further into the sea, not even giving you a moment to take a breath or prepare yourself. You couldn’t open your eyes or struggle, not even as your body was suddenly wrapped tightly in a strong grip. Was he holding you now? Where was he taking you? You could tell that he was moving swiftly, and the incredible pressure building in your ears and your chest told you that he must have been traveling deeper. 

I’m going to drown…! My breath… I can’t hold it!

As the burning and painful strain on your body grew more severe, you couldn’t control your involuntary thrashing, pushing against his presence and kicking where you could. It hurt so bad, worse than anything you had ever felt, and you wished that you would just drift off into unconsciousness. That’s what you had heard happened to people when they drown sometimes. Why couldn’t that happen to you? Why were you being put through this? 

You felt like you had been underwater for hours, but when you finally breached the surface, your body immediately inhaled a massive amount of air, so quick and urgent that you began to cough violently. You didn’t know where you were, and you didn’t care. All you wanted was to find that sweet relief of air in your lungs and something to secure you to reality. When a rocky surface scraped against your flailing and searching hands, you clutched onto it for dear life, somehow pulling yourself out of the strong embrace of your kidnapper to try and claw your way up the ledge. 

Before you could get far, Bakugou’s strong presence pressed up against your back, one hand holding your hip while the other took hold of your neck, constricting and preventing your body from pulling in the air it needed. 

Too weak to resist, you finally forced your eyes open, tears spilling down your cheeks and further blurring your vision. As his lips came to press against your cheek, you whimpered and tried to gasp in the air to your aching lungs. “Ba… Bakugou, please, stop! Take me back to shore!” 

“I found this cave for us last night,” Bakugou ignored your plea, inhaling your scent as if your fear was addicting. “It’s perfect. No one can interrupt us… You’re safe.” 

“I’m not!” You glanced around, trying to take in your surroundings the best you could in the dim light. From what you could tell, you were in a cave, the only source of light being a hole above you where you could clearly see the beautiful blue sky. It was out of your reach, and with no other visible exits, you knew that this was going to be your tomb. “I’m not safe with you!” 

“You’ve always been safe with me,” Growling in your ear, Bakugou dug his nails into the skin of your neck, piercing the delicate flesh and making you whine. “Now more than ever. I’ll protect you with my life. You and our spawn. Our children…” 

What? That’s… he can’t! All of this was because he wanted to mate with you, to impregnate you and force you to have his children. Was that even possible? 

“But… I’m human! You can’t!” 

“I want you, damn it! No other female is worthy of me.” Moving his hand to instead tangle into your hair, he pulled your head back roughly, leaning in to run his tongue over the new bleeding scratches along your neck. Instantly, that same heat that you could still feel throbbing in your pussy spread like fire from the wounds, making you tremble from the stark difference of cold water against your burning skin. 

What is that…? I… It’s so hot! It feels so good. Is it some type of venom? Or… I can’t think…

Your mind was beginning to grow hazy from the heat, his teeth lightly scraping across the skin of your neck and shoulder the only thing you could feel outside of the fire. 

Bite me… Oh god… Bite me! No, no- what am I thinking? I don’t want it! 

A trembling gasp escaped your lips as his teeth clamped down on your skin, easily sinking into your flesh. The fire returned with another stroke of his tongue along the wound, but this time, it was so intense that your body began to quiver, panting into the stale cave air. You felt like you were boiling, half expecting the water around you to begin bubbling and churning with your flame. Your sex was incredibly hot and aching, and you squeezed your thighs together just so you could feel something. 

You needed relief. Whatever he was doing to you with each bite and lick of his tongue against your skin was driving you completely mad. “What… What are you doing to me? Why am I so hot?” 

A low, satisfied purr left Bakugou’s lips as he smirked against your cheek, releasing your hair to run his hands down along your sides. His nails caught and ripped holes into your swimsuit, which had already been ripped apart at the crotch, so it grew looser against your searing skin. “My mate… you’re almost ready for me.” With a light nudge of his nose against your cheek, you weakly turned your head in response, immediately giving into him the instant his lips pressed against yours. You didn’t care about the blood on his lips nor the strange sweet taste that rolled down your throat, making your belly flutter and burn. 

This wasn’t right. This wasn’t safe. What would happen to you if things went wrong? What was he going to be putting inside of you? He had said children… What did that mean? 

You wanted to contemplate these things, to try and focus on the questions bouncing about in your mind, but they slipped from your fingers the instant you tried to hold onto them. Your mind was clouded by nothing but heat, pain, longing, throbbing, and aching. All the fear you had been feeling was only a vague prickle along your spine, but it was nothing compared to the new overwhelming desire. 

Both of his hands gripping on tightly to your hips, Bakugou pressed you up tighter against the rocky ledge, the roughness of the jagged surface against your breasts and hard nipples forcing a soft moan from your lips. With the sound, Bakugou released your lips, pressing his own against your ear as he growled deep and low. 

“You’re going to be my mate forever. You hear me? You’re mine. You’re my little horny bitch to breed.” As he spoke to you, so dominating and controlling in a way that made your heart flutter, you felt a new presence between your legs you hadn’t noticed before. It was slick with a slimy consistency, with a curved, ridged head and bumps along the long sides that led back to Bakugou’s hips. It was pulsing and twitching up against your sex, every soft nudge to your clit nearly enough to make you come undone that instant. 

That’s his cock… It’s so big… How will it fit inside me? It’ll rip me open…! 

“Don’t-” You choked out weakly, trying to shift your hips away from him to no avail. “You can’t! That’ll rip me apart-!” Another harsh bite to your neck made you squeal, unconsciously arching back against him and stroking your cunt along the dick still between your thighs. The pain had you squeezing them together around his girth, bringing a deep groan from his chest, teeth still planted in your skin. The longer he stayed there, the hotter the wound became, spreading through your body like the many times before. “Ow, a-ah, that’s hot! It burns, Bakugou, please!” 

Instead of responding with words, Bakugou gave a thrust of his hips, stroking his cock along your sex. The instant he ran across your clit, all your restraint snapped like a twig, waves of pleasure rolling over you as you came. Trembling and moaning, you dug your nails into the rocks you were holding on to, spouting whatever words first came to your mind in a jumbled mess. 

“F-fuck, fuck! I’m so hot; It’s so hot! I can’t take it! Please, please no more!” 

“There’s only one way to make it go away,” Bakugou lapped up the blood on your neck, shifting his hips so that the tip of his cock rested at your still twitching hole. “I have to fill you up, until you’re nice and full of my spawn. Or else you’ll burn until you die.” 

“I-I don’t want them-!” 

“You do. Don’t you want to feel better?” 

“Yes.”

“You’ll love having me inside you.” 

“It’ll… feel good…” 

“So fucking good…-” Without waiting for your response, Bakugou began to press himself into you, the head of his thick cock slipping in. The stretch as he vanished inch by inch into your clenching pussy was unlike anything you had ever felt, his girth making you breathless. But it was unlike what you had expected. There was no pain, only an intense pressure and feeling as if you were full all the way up to your throat. By the time he had bottomed out inside you, you had cum again, just the feeling of him pressing against every inch of you enough to push you over the edge. With a low groan, Bakugou dug his nails into your hips, pressing his forehead against your shoulder. “Yes, you’re nice and ready for me. My little mate… so obedient.” 

Your mind was blank to everything but the heat and his overwhelming presence inside you. The sensitivity of your body was heightened to the point that you could feel every ridge, every bump and groove of his cock. As he gave his first slow roll of his hips, pulling all the way out to the tip before plunging in again, you immediately lost all control, craving nothing but the pleasure. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t take it! Fuck me, please! Use me! I’m your mate, I want your spawn, please-” Your encouragement immediately set him off to fuck you at a faster pace, slamming into your cunt. Your voice was something that you couldn’t restrain, screaming, moaning, and begging for him to use you. 

“Yeah, that’s it! My filthy little breeding bitch. Tell me who you belong to!” 

“Y-you! I belong to you! I’ll be yours forever- you can use me whenever you want!” 

“You’ll never resist me again?” 

“No, no! Never!” 

As the pleasure began to build rapidly, you rested your forehead against your arm, your eyes rolling back  and unable to stop the drool that dripped down your chin, your mouth permanently open with the most lewd sounds you had ever made. He was using you like a sex toy, fucking you at his own pace and indulging completely in his own pleasures. You didn’t care what he did to you at this point, how many scratches marked your back or how much blood you had lost to his bites. All you could think about was him and his cock inside you. 

You were unsure how long he fucked you like this, but after your third time cumming, he gripped you by the neck and pulled your upper body back. His presence inside you had your hips arched up in perfect position for him, and he didn’t stop, not even as he growled into your ear. 

“Take them all into your hot and precious womb… With this, your body will never be the same for any other man or creature. You are mine. You will be mine forever.” With a few final thrusts, Bakugou came to a stop, buried so deep inside of you that you could feel your cervix stretching uncomfortably. At first, all you could feel was a growing heat, coating your walls and making your core tingle relentlessly. Your clenching and tense core began to pulse with your rapid heartbeat in a way that was new to you, allowing you to relax in his grip. Although your mind was still aching to rid yourself of the fire, whatever was happening to you now loosened your anxious, aching muscles. 

Then came the first egg. About the size of a tennis ball, it passed through Bakugou’s cock slowly, only taking a moment to squeeze into your cunt. Gasping fearfully as it continued to slowly move closer, you gripped onto Bakugou’s hand that was around your throat, finding that you were unable to feel your legs enough to try and kick him off. “N-no, no! It won’t fit- a-ah!” Leaning your head back with your mouth and eyes wide open in a silent scream, you were unable to stop him as he lightly bucked his hips into you, urging the egg further down his shaft. With each light thrust, it moved deeper and deeper, stretching you open. When it finally reached his tip, Bakugou gave a grunt as he snapped his hips roughly into yours, bringing forth a scream from your throat as you came hard from the pressure of the egg breaching your cervix into your womb. 

The waves of your orgasm helped to pass it through, your eyes rolled back as it passed. There was no pain, but you could feel the new presence in your lower belly, tucked safely inside of you. 

Releasing his arm, your hands slid down to caress your own belly, pressing into your lower abdomen lightly. You could feel the tip of Bakugou’s cock inside you, and your light pressure made him growl in your ear. 

“Watch it, my pet.” 

“I… I want to feel it.” 

The next egg coming through was just as blissful as the first, bringing you to orgasm as you kept your fingers pressed into your body. You could feel it this time against your fingertips, bringing a smile to your lips as you bit down eagerly onto your bottom lip. Never in your life had you imagined such pleasure would be yours, to be used and adored by a creature in such an intimate way. 

It was heaven. 

Eight more followed, bloating your belly. Whatever numbing he had done to you had spread to your stomach, so your muscles were relaxed enough to take on the new presence inside you. You felt full, as if you had eaten an incredibly large meal, but there was no pain. Still, that burning need of satisfaction was ravaging your body. It hadn’t gone away like he had promised it would. Was he not done with you? 

Removing his cock from your ravaged body, Bakugou flipped you over to face him, resting you back against the side of the ledge. With a weak grip, you kept yourself up with your legs around his waist, your arms resting limply by your sides. For a moment, you just stared at each other, giving you time to observe his brilliant and handsomely fine features. He was perfection, from the blonde fluff of spiked hair atop his head, to flawless skin, to muscular frame that had you swooning the first time you had met him. He was so gorgeous, and all the sudden so… gentle. 

With your new position, he found the opportunity to caress your swollen belly, running his hands along your skin as he gazed down at your form through the clear, rippling water. It was such an odd look to you. Was it longing? Love? Or was it just pride in the work that he had done here, filling you up with his eggs and making you submit to him. 

Did he even care about you at all? Or did he just care about keeping your body to use as he pleased? 

You were pulled from your stupor of staring at him as his hands traveled up to your breasts, taking hold of the remnants of your swimsuit and ripping it apart. The fabric discarded off to the side, Bakugou leaned in to kiss you again as he squeezed and massaged your breasts, pinching your sensitive nipples between his fingers. Your mouth opened for him with a moan, allowing him to kiss you as he pleased. 

That sweet taste filled your mouth again, making you writhe and wrap your arms around his neck in discomfort of the spreading fire. Your body began to ache again, digging your nails into his skin as you moaned and panted against his lips, which refused to let yours go. Then, without a word, you felt the familiar blunt presence of his cock at your twitching hole, slipping into place like he was simply putting on a glove. You trembled against him as you tried to moan, begging against the kiss for him to let you breathe with any little moment that came your way. He didn’t. He continued to kiss you, to bite and nibble at your lip and your tongue, his sharp fangs piercing the delicate flesh when he was a bit too rough. 

“You’re so delicious,” Bakugou groaned against your lips, glaring into your gaze as your fierce need for pleasure grew more severe. “I never want to stop tasting you.” 

“I-I want to be done… Bakugou, I want to stop-” A squeak escaped your lips as he dug his cock deeper into your cunt, a new presence making itself known as it slithered up along your clit and against your pelvis. It was just as slimy and wet as the cock inside you, but it was smooth, pointed, and not quite as thick. You wanted to look down between your bodies to see, but you were too distracted by his smirk, his tongue dancing across his blood-stained lips. 

“I’m not done with you yet.” 

In that same moment, the new appendage that you couldn’t identify began to press against your cunt, beginning to enter you along with his cock. As you were stretched open, you clutched onto his shoulders, gasping and choking on your attempts to breathe. “N-no, wait-!” Clenching your eyes shut, you pushed back on his chest, but your weak body was no match against his overwhelming presence. “Don’t- not both! I can’t!” 

Sighing in satisfaction as his hand slid up your body to grip the hair at the back of your head, Bakugou pressed his lips against your cheek, his smirk only growing wider. “You can! I would have only done one at a time, but you’ve just been so naughty fighting against me like this. I have to teach you a fucking lesson, that your body belongs to me.” 

“I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I won’t fight anymore! I won’t!” Tears began to stream down your face as he forced both of his dicks into your cunt. If not for the fire within you that begged for pleasure and the still relaxed muscles from the eggs, you knew that you would be in severe pain. There was none. No, the pleasure is what was driving you mad. You couldn’t take it. It was going to make you go crazy if he kept this up, and you couldn’t bear the thought of him moving. 

When he finally began to thrust into you, it rocked your body so hard with pleasure that you couldn’t even find the air to scream or moan. All you could do was lean back against the rocks, not even able to feel the scratching against your back as he pounded into you, hard and deep. Head leaning back, you were sure that you must have had an insane look on your face, with your eyes rolled back and a wide, pleasured smile on your lips. But you couldn’t help it. 

It was amazing. You wanted nothing more in that moment than to feel his cocks inside you forever, to be fucked and bred at every chance you possibly had. Nothing could ever compare to this bliss, not even achieving your wildest dreams. Your body was going to belong to him. Your soul was going to belong to him. 

This wasn’t right. 

How could you give in like this? How could he break you so easily? 

It didn’t matter. 

“You like my dicks inside you, huh, my pretty mate?” Bakugou hissed in your ear, pulling your consciousness to the front just for a moment. 

“I-I love… I love them. So good! Bakugou-” 

“-No. Katsuki.” He purred against your lips, watching as your face contorted with your oncoming orgasm. 

“Yes… Yes, Katsuki!” 

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” 

“I’m yours, Katsuki! Fuck, I’m going to cum, fuck, I can’t- I can’t hold it! I can’t!” Your entire body seized up with your release, clutching onto him tightly. With his final few erratic thrusts, Bakugou let out a heavy groan, digging his cocks as deep into you as he could. You could feel his hot release into you, the second dick pulsing and coating your walls. What was more, you could feel the very tip of it dug into your womb, filling you up directly with his cum to join the eggs. You couldn’t believe that you could feel it all so clearly, your body so sensitive and yet so in tune with his that it had seemed you were familiar with this. 

You weren’t, of course. As he removed himself from you, leaving you feeling incredibly empty, all your energy felt like it left with him and you collapsed forward, head against his chest. You couldn’t feel him caressing you. You couldn’t feel his fingers tenderly stroking your hair. All you could feel, as the fire within your core began to vanish, was an overwhelming sense of shame. What had you just done? What had you just been forced to do? None of this was right. You shouldn’t be here. 

Those things you had said to him… you didn’t mean it. Did you? Did you really want to belong to him? Were you really going to just lay down and accept that this was it? 

“[Name].” 

Jumping at the sound of his voice, you timidly sat up, looking up at him in fear as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. Too scared to talk, you waited for him to continue, not even wanting to blink in fear that he would react badly. Though, his expression was quite soft, his crimson eyes glancing over your face with worry. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I… yes.”  You could barely find it in you to speak, the words coming out as a choked whisper. Why did you say that? Of course you weren’t okay. You were scratched up, bitten, bruised, and filled with eggs, for fucks sake! Why weren’t you yelling and screaming at him?

“Here.” Caressing you carefully, Bakugou moved you both over to a different ledge, carefully lifting you up to sit on it. “There’s a blanket and other things there for you.” 

Sitting there with your legs dangling in the water, you slowly wrapped your arms around your swollen belly, beginning to tremble from the cold. “O… okay.” 

With a frustrated grunt at the fact that you neglected to move, Bakugou hoisted himself up onto the ledge, sitting beside you and reaching back to snatch the blanket he had mentioned. “Damn stupid woman, you need to stay warm!” As he draped it around your shoulders, you couldn’t stop but flinch away from him a bit, tears still streaming down your face in fear. “Why are you scared of me?” 

“I don’t… want you to hurt me anymore.” 

Bakugou gave the back of your head a gentle stroke, letting his arm rest around your back. “You got it all wrong, moron. I don’t want to hurt you. Your wounds will heal quickly because of my venom… And being sore won’t last, you’ll be numb for a while.” 

“You act like you’ve done this before.” 

“... We don’t need to talk about that. It doesn’t fucking matter. You’re all I care about, now. I’m going to protect you.” Bakugou caressed your cheek, turning your head to look up at him. “I don’t just go for random women. I picked you for more than just your body. You should rest…” 

His final words were more of a command than a suggestion, and with that gruff growl in his voice, you listened. Scooting back towards the pad of blankets he had set up on the ground, you used the one around your shoulders to first dry off the best you could, before shuffling under the others. It was warm and oddly comfortable, but you expected that you’d find even a bed full of needles comfortable with how exhausted you were. As you settled down on your side, you watched Bakugou as he slipped back into the water, vanishing beneath the surface and leaving you alone in the cave. 

With the silence, more tears began to flow down your cheeks, running your hands up and down along your swollen belly as you craved the warmth of the sun and the cheeky grinning merman you had loved just yesterday. 

[onewingedxngel]

❝ reverse ❞ 1) [ throat ] your muse wrapping a hand around mine’s throat. || ❝ reverse ❞ 2) [ bite ] your muse biting mine. || ❝ reverse ❞ 3) [ bleed ] your muse making mine bleed. || ❝ reverse ❞ 4) [ mock ] your muse mocking mine. || [ deck ] your muse decking mine in the face.

Violent Prompts

WARNING:

Me being me, I decided to turn this into a fucking novel. But that’s not what the warning is about.

The warning is for VIOLENCE and HORROR! I tried to hold back a lot, so I might be overreacting (especially as I haven’t written violence properly in a while, so I’m probably a bit rusty... hell, it’s probably not that bad), but STILL,  if you’re sensitive to horror, I’m putting up the warning just in case. 

Bloodlust

Tifa stared in horror at the beast that was stalking her.

In the darkness of the corridor, far down towards its end, floated a pair of familiar viridian eyes, pupils thin like needles. They did not blink as they stared at her intensely, hypnotic orbs threatening to lull her into a mesmerised stupor.

She sucked in a soundless gasp when they flickered into a crimson colour. It was the most intense hue she’d ever witnessed, the pulsing red of flesh, of blood, of rage and of nightmares. There was a beat as her hunter only watched, a soft snarl emanating from the shadows, from those ghastly eyes.

The door was right next to her. Her salvation from peril, her chance for escape. But she knew that a single move would trigger him into savagery. He was waiting, she could tell, he was toying with her, gifting her the idea that she might be able to escape, to survive– only to take it away just as it was within the reach of her trembling fingers.

She was frozen. He could see it. She was frozen, contemplating her choices– or rather, her lack of it. His lips curled into a cruel smile; he could smell her fear and it was enticing like the stench of torn flesh to a shark.

He had not the patience to wait for her to indulge him in his little game. She shrieked as he started forward, leaping at her with impossible speed. One moment he was a distance away, and in less than a second, he appeared right before her. Her cries were cut off as a huge, gloved hand shot forth and seized her throat.

No, I can’t, I have to protect them! she thought of her friends, their memory fuelling her as she kicked and struggled and writhed against his grip– but to no avail. From the tips of his fingers she could feel stinging heat as his nails pierced her skin... no. 

They weren’t nails. 

They were claws.

Blood pooled around his talons, sharp as obsidian. He watched her scarlet with desire, tasting the air like a snake. Oh, its stench was transcendent.

Jaws opened wide to reveal sharp teeth; the fangs themselves like swords glinting hungrily in the dim light– she whimpered at the sight. With horrifying precision, he leaned forwards and sunk them into the soft flesh of her neck, overcome with lust for what flowed in her veins. Blood spurted forth like a weak fountain, staining her skin and hair, though the splatter of crimson across his lips was no less than pleasurable for him. He greedily began to devour the irresistable fluids that nourished him so, her terrified pleading only delighting him evermore.

Tifa could not tell how much time was passing. All she knew was that resistance was futile, and everything hurt. Her limbs were growing heavier and heavier, her eyes were drooping with exhaustion, while her agonised grimace weakened.

Is this it...? Tifa thought, now standing completely still. There was so much she still had to see. So much she still had to do. She could not die here; she had to by by the side of her friends, by the side of Cloud. But what could she do? What hope had she against this abomination feeding off her so ravenously?

Unexpectedly, he shifted his head back, licking the remnants of dripping blood off his mouth. He glared down at his victim with a sneer, lips curling into a twisted smile allowing crimson knives to peer through. Her heart hammered faster in her chest, by the Goddess why was he making this so slow and agonising?

“So delicate. So helpless...” he growled, grip tightening. Tifa brought a hand up to her wound, pressing her fingers against the torn skin. She winced as it throbbed, small spurts of blood squeezing past her digits. He smiled at her weakness, and she shut her eyes as if doing so could transport her away from this horror.

(((Cloud...)))

No... this was her chance, she had to take it. He’d stopped, for but a moment, he’d stopped. She needed to make it back to her group, and if she was to die trying, then so be it.

“Enough!” she shouted, heart swelling with terror and determination as she brought up her fist, and smashed into his skull. He growled in annoyance, momentarily letting her go to stumble a few steps back, gingerly rubbing his visage. She guessed that there was a real chance that she’d not harmed him much at all, that he was simply giving her false hope as he indulged himself in his ‘game’. Whatever the case, it did not matter– she could not afford to die here, at the withering clawed hands of this monster.

She ran, prying the door open and sprinting out into the blizzard outside, hand still over her wound. He watched for a moment with a small smirk as she disappeared into the snowstorm, swallowed by a white void. Let her have a few seconds of a headstart... he’d catch her once more eventually, for he craved her still. Or perhaps he truly would let her go, and give her the chance to warn her friends of just what Sephiroth had now become.

[naughty-bois]

Monster Mash

This wouldn't get out of my head until I wrote it. Smut drabble of Bladepen having fun with one of eir more monstrous creations.

Kinks: Teratophilia, blood, biting, dirty talk, size kink, choking, slight cumflation

Hands clasped behind eir back, tail held high and proud as ey strut through the halls. Ey paused to glance into one room, and saw a group of eir pupils, bent over a vivisected cherryblood. The specimen was still twitching against its restraints as their mentor rambled on.

Pleased, ey kept walking.

"Doctor?" The physician on guard of the iron door looked up as ey approached.

"Leave me."

They were quick, and wise, to hurry off.

Digging in eir coat, ey produced a key and unlocked the several locks. Ey slipped inside, turned, and relocked several, before ey turned to look at the center of the room.

"Good evening, Subject-9." Dolion purred. Ey stepped forward, cupping the thing's jaw.

The thing was once a troll; a blackblood, Dolion's personal favorite to use. Pity ey'd used so many back in the day, that they'd become a rarity. Ey was lucky that eir scouts had managed to find this one, and ey did not intent to let that go to waste.

It'd taken many surgeries, transfusions, and no small amount of sleepless days to make it into what it was.

A monster.

Already, it had stood at 12 feet tall. Now it was that height, still, even bent onto it's knuckles. It was massive, height aside, with muscles like that of a bull's.

The puny horns it once sported were now as thick around as Dolion's tail, curved and ridged and beautiful. It's black and red skin was like armor, claws like blades, and face far removed from Alternian. It was beastly, now, with a muzzle full of razors and eyes like demons'.

More lusus than troll, more drone than lusus, more demon, than drone.

All for Dolion's enjoyment.

Rubbing eir thumb over the crop of scales that had sprouted along the monster's jaw, Dolion hummed.

"Come come now, Nine, surely you are not sleeping? I know I removed such a feature. Open your eyes, it is time to play."

So saying, ey reached up, and removed the blindfold.

Four eyes opened, pure orange like the brightest topaz, and blinked in the dim block. The monster rumbled lowly, mouth shut by a vice, limbs locked by chains.

And eyes burning with hate.

"My, my. A little cranky, are we not? Have we rediscovered that emotion? Wonderful. I would like to see that in action."

Eir hand trailed down, from the jaw to the chest, and lower. Ey knelt down, until ey was facing the beast's crotch. With expert hands, ey began to massage and rub the possibly only soft area on the monster's body. Above him, the subject shuddered, letting out a shaky grumble.

Smiling to emself, Dolion continued to stroke the sheathe, until the monster's bulge began to emerge. Slowly at first, then with more of a rush as the doctor stroked it.

The bulge was huge; black as the rest of it, and well over a foot long. It was as thick around as Dolion's thigh, and already slick with preslurry.

Grinning from bifuricated ear to bifuricated ear, Dolion slipped a hand into eir coat. Eir fingers easily found a small remote, and pressed the button.

With a clatter and clank, the vice and chains fell away.

"Doc.... tor..." The monster groaned, shuddering. Dolion only had time to smile before it was upon em.

Nearly too fast for em to see, the beast lunged, throwing Dolion to the ground and pinning em there. Eir head slammed into the concrete floor and ey gasped, all composure lost.

The monster began to claw at Dolion's clothes, snarling in frustration when the doctor twisted to swat their claws with eir tail. "Watch it! I will not have you damaging my uniform!"

With a huff, ey removed eir apron and coat, but the beast was too impatient to wait for any further undressing. It charged the doctor, slamming em onto eir stomach this time, and tore eir clothes off like the wrapping paper on a wriggling day present, claws carelessly scoring over the tealblood's back.

Dolion gasped and keened, biting eir lip. Now bare, the monster could see the doctor's bulge was already out and twisting between eir thighs.

"Wh...ore..." The monster rumbled furiously.

Dolion whined, gathering eir knees under emself and raising eir hips. Ey curled eir tail over eir back, presenting eir already flushed and wet nook. "Come on, then, Nine. Do not keep me waiting." Even as the doctor tried to sound bossy, eir voice was shaky with need. Ey was beyond aroused, just from the slight manhandling.

The monster loomed over em, its own bulge thrashing. It grabbed Dolion by the hips, claws digging into eir skin until blood was beading up around its talons.

Dolion shuddered, squeezing eir eyes shut as arousal shot through em. The monster dragged em backwards slightly, until its bulge slid between eir thighs.

"Subject- ah!"

Whatever the tealblood was going to say was rendered moot as the monster thrusted forward, bulge slamming into the doctor's nook.

Ey cried out, nearly cumming just from the first move.

Not caring for the doctor's desires or comfort, though, the monster continued to hump into em, pinning em under their massive bulk.

Dolion's eyes rolled up into eir head, breath shoved out of eir lungs and claws scrabbling on the cold stone floor. Ey made a gutteral, absolutely inalternian sound as the massive bulge worked its way deeper into eir pleasure-pulsing nook. Eir bulge was dripping, and ey reached down with one hand to squeeze it.

"Filthy... fuck.... ing.... whore!" The monster snarled, raking its claws over Dolion's hips as it shoved itself deeper. Dolion flat out wailed with pleasure, head rolling to the side and jaw-horns knocking against the floor.

"Yes, yes, Subject-9- ah! F- fuck me, fill me, with your wretched bulge-! Hah... Make me your bucket, my pitchblooded fiend!"

Eir hand was wrapped around their bulge, squeezing and pumping it relentlessly as pleasure buzzed under eir skin. Eir tail spasmed with the desire to wag, but it was pinned between em and the monster.

Dolion screeched as fangs sank into eir shoulder, lacerating through flesh and muscle until they met bone. Blood spurted from the wounds, simultaneous with their bulge spilling slurry over eir gloved hand as ey came.

Ey warbled wordlessly as the monster didn't still. It didn't care for the doctor's pleasure, for eir pain, only for its own. The tealblood's nook was stretched painfully around its massive bulge as it continues to fuck itself into em, hips leaving bruises on Dolion's rear and the underside of eir tail. The monster's teeth were still embedded in eir shoulder, the wounds tugging with each movement.

"S- Subject-9, be still- I need-"

Dolion's words were cut off as clawed fingers curled around and squeezed eir throat. Teeth released eir shoulder, both painful and relieving at the same time.

"I do... not... care-!" A hard thrust, a twist of its bulge, and Dolion was nearly cumming again, free hand clawing at the ground until eir nails were breaking.

The monster gave a final, hard thrust, and seated it's bulge all the way inside the tealblood. With eir hand on eir bulge, Dolion could feel eir stomach was protruding, swollen to fit the massive bulge in eir nook.

This was barely registered as an almost painful, second orgasm was wrenched from eir body by the feeling of the monster cumming.

Eir nook was flooded, seedflap filled to the brim by black slurry. Dolion could feel their stomach swell in an attempt to hold it all in.

Ey went limp below the monster, twitching and mewling as the last spasms of pleasure shook em.

"Ah- well done, N- nine... I... am pleased with your progress... Release me now." Ey managed to say between pants.

The monster didn't move.

"Nine, I said-"

"Heard you... don't care..."

"I am-"

"Nothing... but.. a whore!"

Dolion keened as the monster jerked its hips again, and the doctor realized that it's bulge had begun to move again. "Nngh-" Ey tugged a glove back to check eir watch, before ey sighed, a low purr in eir throat. "Very well, then; I have another hour to spare. Hold nothing back, pet."

[obeymeluv]

Under Siege

The first and probably last time I will do something like this. It’s a choose your own adventure! This is like the set up; leads up to your first choice.

It goes like this: Set up -> choice -> ending.

Each choice goes to ONLY one brother, and maybe not the one you think ;).

Each choice has its own ending (one ending per choice).

I’ll make a mini masterlist as I finish the parts. I won’t be able to link anything, though. I tried to link things when I first started this blog and they didn’t work. They looked link but wouldn’t open up into anything.

I guess it’ll just help people find the choice they want? Sorry :/

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Imagine the Devildom being stormed by an outside army during the school year. It could be an army composed of secret children of the Demon King (Daddyvolo Sr.), or just different groups of lesser demons who feel they should have more power than they do. Think naga demons linking up with criminal lesser demons, summoners, dark elves, and dark fae. Just non-standard demons that are probably minorities in the Devildom or maybe used to call the Devildom home before it was solely for devils/demons.

Death comes by land and by sea. Some on creatures you’ve never seen before, some that were surely the inspiration for “And I looked and behold: a pale horse. And his name, that sat on him, was Death. And Hell followed with him.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Horror movies and apocalypse-style movies only kind of prepared you for what’s happening around you. It’s the first time you realize everyone really has been treating you with kid gloves. Out any window of RAD the sky is impossibly dark, the sky speckled with yellow and red---piercing eyes of creatures humans were never meant to see.

Probably the last thing you’ll see, because it is only when you realize how focused and murderous those eyes are that you hear the deafening sound of wings. Possibly thousands of wings. Hooves follow close behind, thundering across the land, and there’s a distinctly helpless feeling of being swallowed whole.

RAD, which is basically a castle, will be stormed and toppled.

A chorus of demon cries echo in the inky night, a sound that chills you to your core. It’s fear incarnate, something that strikes the most primal chord in your human body. The sounds aren’t human by any measure, but your brain translates the unmistakable I’m coming for you and the death therein.

Students with wings are unfurling them and warming up to shoot out windows in tornados of claws and fangs. Summoners are calling upon old favors from even older friends, pact mates that have served their families for generations. Others are casting charms on their friends and tearing pages out of books to cram in their pockets. Those capable of non-verbal magic are drawing sloppy sigils on anyone they can touch.

You’re struggling to recall any spell you’ve learned, to just not panic as you try to understand how everyone can be handling this so calmly. It helps being alive for thousands of years, doesn’t it? The absence of sirens or anything human-related that justifies the panic somehow makes things worse.  

You hadn’t been in the Devildom long enough to run any drills, but the demons around you seem to know what to do. You’re swept out in a wave of bodies, the general idea of moving out of confined spaces (the classrooms) into more open ones is most important right now. Bricks give away behind you—the demon forces are busting through the classroom walls. A haze of brick dust forms as students break off to fight or are physically separated by fliers. Someone in front of you is grabbed by a meaty fist easily three times the side of your head, and you’re surprised they have enough bite force to rip off a finger.

Between their bite and your terrified scratching, the student breaks free. You’re half-tossed by an impact that doesn’t quite break the stone. Or maybe that was a gust from nearby wings. Your head is spinning as you try to figure out who is friend and who is foe. Stone bits stab you in the hand as you stumble to your feet, tripping over one of the once-mounted iron torches someone tore off the wall.

Magic crackles in the air, a taste of lightning in your mouth. There is definitely fire, the burning smell seems to consume everything else. Your heart is pounding because any second someone will realize you’re just a human.

Will you be a war prize? A meal?

Your mind screams for you to summon one of the brothers. Any of them—all of them—but you can’t remember the words. You start running, lungs burning, and huge chunks of the incantation come back to you but you’re too scared to say them with your dry throat lest you summon something else. Two of the demons from Beel’s wrestling team force an orc-demon hybrid down and start tearing it apart with their bare hands.

It vaguely reminds you of the time the brothers idly mentioned choking demons out like it was nothing. Something is snapped off of it—a tooth? A horn? A claw?—and one hands it to you when they notice you’re still standing.

Anything is better than nothing for a human.

Your shaky fingers play along the thing—bigger than your forearm and almost impossible to grip all the way around—until your heart settles a bit. Your grip tightens, comforted by a semblance of preparedness. There’s chaos all around—screams of anguish, battle cries, spells firing off in the distance—and it hits you that no one would hear you if you cried out for them.

Hell, you can hardly hear yourself. The only reason you know your heart’s beating is because it takes up your whole body. You scoop up a fist-sized chunk of wall and duck a flying body as you try to reorient yourself. Something cuts across your back and the sting is enough to make you arch and cry out. Instinctively, you grip that chunk of wall and turn around in one swing.

It’s a demon with bloody claws and an unhinged jaw—part naga?—and you vaguely wonder if Beel can do that as you swing and keep swinging. Your brain is trying to focus and absorb everything at once. Did the blows land on its teeth or the face? Are you bleeding?

Something in you stops, captivated by the firelight and spells glinting in its teeth, and you’re gripped with absolute terror when you realize it paralyzed you. You looked at its eyes, not its teeth. Or maybe you were looking at its teeth and it moved its head down. As your hand grows heavy with the stone, your body relaxes into the tail coiling around and around your body. It lifts you towards its cracked, bloody teeth but before you’re swallowed something darts between you with lightning speed.

Blood sprays across your face and you don’t know if you wince or not. The snake demon falls one way, you fall the other way. Whatever it is, it sliced the demon snake’s throat and severed the tail just below your feet. Cussing and wriggling out of the coils, your heart stops again when you’re plucked from them like they’re not dead weight muscle. You’re grabbed by the front of your uniform and struggling to pull black-painted nails apart when gold tattoos catch your eye

Diavolo doesn’t apologize for the way he grabbed you, his blood-speckled chest heaving a little less than yours. His golden eyes shine with relief but no levity. It’s unusual and off-putting to see him so serious. So calm and calculating. Aware of the threads popping under his fingernails, Diavolo hauls you along like luggage as gold-tipped wings lash out like whips to clear the way.

He’s taken twists and turns as old as the castle itself. Ones only he knows, probably. The echo of chaos isn’t far away, and it won’t be long before someone finds the two of you. Diavolo pulls a female statue from the wall, setting it gently to the side. It melts into the section of wall, stone backing sliding away to follow it.

The bronze door looks old as time itself. There are several languages carved into it. He rearranges the languages until they resemble something you saw in Basic Sorcery and Sigils. “You’ll find whatever you desire here, and you’ll be safe.” Diavolo shoulders the door open, ignoring the dust and age that seeps out. You’re shoved unceremoniously into the room as he screeches at something down the hall; the very sound shakes your bones and is the epitome of do you dare challenge me? There are dull thumping sounds and crunching sounds.

Squishing sounds.

Then, nothing.

“I will come for you when it is safe. I do not lie.” He says through the door before absolute silence sets in.

You can’t hear as much from this room, whatever it is. It looked like little more than a storage closet, honestly. There were tables and shelves full of dusty things. Things in jars, piles of books, cloaks, sets of armor that seemed to span the centuries, and various weapons mounted along the walls.

The screams aren’t as loud but being separated and doing nothing is still hell on your nerves. “What if I want to help?!” you yell at no one, starting to feel the anger bubble up in you. You were angry at yourself for being able to do nothing besides run. Angry that you were stupid enough to fall for snake charms when the first thing Asmo told you was to never look a demon in the eye unless you absolutely trusted them. “WHAT IF I WANT TO HELP?!” you yell again, throwing the hunk of tooth-nail thing at the door.

The door groans on impact and your heart squeezes at the idea that you’ve somehow popped it open. Surely it would take more than that to undo Diavolo’s magic, right? What kind of room did Diavolo need to unlock with magic, anyways? The tooth-claw thing failed to leave a scratch but somehow you’ve awakened the languages again. They spin furiously and come together like mismatched newspaper ransom letters: Then pick

The room is alive. Books are sorting themselves, armor is assembling, and you squeeze yourself into a corner as all manner of items fly into the air. Tables separate from each other, leaving one to drag itself into the middle of the room. You approach to see a bejeweled dagger wrapped in red velvet and gold twine, an onyx necklace that shone with blue and green tones when held up to the light, a bundle of dried herbs wrapped in thorn braids, and a bramble crown flecked with gold and tangled in what appeared to be gilded bark gauntlets. As your hand hovers over the gauntlets a bow and arrow launches from the wall, skidding across the table and spinning to a stop.

You nudge them apart, too afraid to pick it up directly. Sensing space, a pair of strappy leather sandals walks from the back of the room and hop onto the table. Some kind of slip joins it, pouring over the shoes to reveal blades that had been coddled in the folds.

Wary of anything else coming to life, you browse the surrounding tables. Anything you reach for slides away. You try to pick something up and find it impossible. The mounted weapons hum in disapproval when you so much as move your hand over them. “Just the table then.” you say out loud. “Cool, got it.”

You look over the items again. There’s a dagger, a necklace, a bundle of herbs, a crown with gauntlets, a bow and arrow, and some magic shoes with accessories. Six things. “Almost one for each of the brothers,” you muse. Seven was a common theme in the Devildom, after all.

A beautiful gold sword drops from the wall and drags itself to the table. It has a celestial blue stone embedded where hit meets blade. The handle is wrapped in the same twine found with the dagger.

The door rattles violently and your heart leaps in your throat. Have you been found?!

It continues to rattle, and you can’t tell if it’s from the languages rearranging themselves or something trying to get inside.

NOW CHOOSE…

Time is running out. What do you grab?

[delimeful]

Stemming the Tide

writing has been like pulling teeth lately but i managed this little drabble inspired by @smalldrops super gorgeous mermaid art! i went a little off the rails with the plot/tension, but i hope you like it anyhow :P

warnings: fear, capture, mention of starvation, mention of illness, threat of eating people, sad patton hours, everything turns out fine i promise

- Patton had only been looking for a place to rest for the night when he spotted the light. Blue and glowing, a beacon in the dark. 

It was deep waters, the type that he would have avoided if he hadn’t been so desperate to travel quickly. He was risking a lot, down where more vicious predators lurked, but the journey had gone so smoothly, and he was close to finally being home... he’d simply let his guard down. 

It was a mistake to approach the light, one that he didn’t realize until he saw the shadow of something huge move in the water, so large it created small currents with every motion. 

In the next moment, he was swept up in a flurry of bubbles, something cool and leathery wrapping around him and pinning his arms and his satchel to his sides. He caught a glimpse of sharp nails as the light bobbed and swayed above him, and he abruptly realized that it was a giant hand that had grabbed him.  

He couldn’t help but yelp as he was dragged forward, and in the next moment he was feet away from a face large enough to match the hand. A giant mer, Patton realized as he wriggled, tail lashing in panic. The fingers around him only tightened, making him wheeze. In front of him, the mer’s bait light drifted lower, illuminating the both of them. 

The mer was inspecting him with narrowed glowing eyes, bioluminescent freckles to match scattered across his indigo skin. The edges of him seemed to blur into the dark waters around them, but Patton was sure he could see a few serrated fangs poking out past his lips. 

Another hand appeared, webbed fingers carefully brushing over Patton’s shoulders and head as though he couldn’t quite see what he held in his grasp. The smaller mer flinched away automatically, watching those sharp claws as his gills fluttered with the effort of regaining his breath. 

In front of him, the giant mer frowned slightly, ear fins twitching down, and then let out a sigh that ruffled Patton’s hair.  

“You’ll do, I suppose,” he muttered, and began to lift him to his lips, which were parting to display rows of sharp teeth. 

Patton felt a chill run down his spine, and all his frills flared out in alarm. “Wait, wait wait wait wait!”

The mer stilled, and then sighed, pulling his hand back to inspect him once more. “What is it that you have to say, then?” 

Patton blinks, surprised that his calls had actually worked. “Um… Please don’t eat me?” he tried, tail fin twitching nervously. 

The mer pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand, brow crinkling, and took a deep breath. “Look here, and see if you don’t understand.” 

He moved his arm back further, and Patton caught sight of his chest, where his skin stretched taut over his ribs, looking near starved. Below that, the mer’s long and winding tail was half-buried beneath a cascade of heavy rocks and silt. The rocky reefs up above were often unstable, so an avalanche was far from impossible. What was more astonishing was the fact that the mer was still so composed, stuck down here for who knew how long.

“There you have it,” the mer said dryly. “Believe me, I would rather avoid eating anything that can plead for mercy, but unfortunately that is not an option right now. I have to eat, or else I will die. Please do not take it personally.” 

He started to lift his hand again, and Patton patted it (heh) hurriedly to get him to stop. “Hang on, there must be another way! See, I need to get this medicine to Roman-- he’s my best friend and he’s terribly sick-- and I traveled through what feels like the whole ocean to get it, I can’t stop now!” He wiggled the arm closest to his satchel in emphasis.

“I don’t see how that’s particularly relevant to me, since I do not know or care for your friend. Regardless, I don’t see any alternative, and I sincerely doubt that you see one.” 

Patton bit his lip. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong fin. I’m Patton! What’s your name?”

“There is no point in exchanging--,” the mer cut himself off at Patton’s pleading stare, sighing through his nose. “You may call me Logan, but pleasantries don’t change the facts of this situation.” 

“Right, of course.” Patton nodded agreeably, forcing himself to relax his shoulders and stop his tail’s panicked swishing. In response, the hand around him eased it’s grip slightly, and Patton took a grateful deep breath. He had to stay calm. His new acquaintance wanted to eat him, yes, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t work something out!

“Well, Logan…,” he thought hard for a moment, and then brightened. “What if I got something else for you to eat? I could even hunt for you until you get your strength back! On the other hand, if you, um, ate me, then you’d still be stuck all alone down here without knowing if you’ll get any help…” 

He could see the other mer take a moment to consider it, fins twitching in thought, before he shook his head slightly. Patton’s heart sank.

“You have a point, however, those odds are all reliant on your participation. If I release you and you don't return at all, I will be left with nothing. If I…,” Logan shifted uncomfortably, “don’t release you, I will at least live a little longer, and perhaps gain the energy to free myself.” 

“I’m not going to leave you here to starve!” Patton immediately replied, frowning at the thought. 

Logan shook his head, grip closing in around Patton again, firmer this time. “I simply can’t be sure of that. You want to survive as badly as I do. You would say anything to be free of me.” 

“I… I don’t have anything to prove it but my word, though,” Patton said, voice growing smaller as panic filled his lungs. He thought about Roman, acres away, growing sicker and sicker as he waited for Patton to return. The other mer would die thinking Patton had abandoned him. He felt like sobbing, and forced himself to speak through the lump in his throat. “Logan, please, I promise I’ll come back.”

Logan turned his face away, avoiding eye contact, and Patton’s frills flattened against the sides of his head despondently. He… he really wasn’t going to get out of this one, was he? 

Rough cloth pressed into his side uncomfortably, and he jerked his head up, struck with an idea. “Oh! Logan!” 

The large mer’s glowing eyes locked back onto him, surprise flitting across his features. 

“The bag-- My bag! Can you just,” he wriggled his shoulders a little, and Logan obligingly loosened his grip enough for Patton to work his arms out, “thank you!” 

With slightly shaky hands, he pulled the strap of his satchel over his head, tugging the precious bag up into his arms and forcing himself to hold it out. “Here. If you manage to escape, then, after you-- after I’m gone, can you, um... Please, can you take this to Roman?” 

He leaned forward, pushing it towards Logan pleadingly. “He doesn't have anyone else, and if he doesn't get it--,” his voice cracked painfully, and he had to pause to collect himself, swallowing thickly.

Logan reached out with his other hand, delicately pinching the strap between two claws and letting the bag settle in his palm. Patton slumped against the hand around him, relieved and desolate in equal measures. 

“Th-- Thank you. Thank you, Logan.” He felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, knowing what it meant, that Logan had agreed. 

Hopefully, the giant mer would be able to get free. Patton truly believed that Logan would hold up his end of the deal. He was going to die here, but… at least Roman might live. That was better than nothing, right? 

He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for what he knew would happen next. The hand around him moved, lifting him through the water, and… loosened? 

Patton opened his eyes, surprised, and his fins fluttered to keep him upright as the hand fell away entirely. A primal part of his mind screeched for him to bolt, but his curiosity and the knowledge that he needed that medicine kept him treading water in place.

“Fine,” Logan said, rubbing at his temple as though he had a headache. “Fine! We’ll try it your way.” 

Patton blinked, once, twice. Then-- “Really?!”

“Yes, really,” Logan grumped, settling back against the seafloor. “But I am keeping your medicine as collateral, so don’t even contemplate betraying me.”

Patton flipped and twisted a couple of times in the water, too ecstatic to keep still. “I don’t know what collateral means, but I would never leave a r-eel-y good friend like you behind!”

 “Keep up those atrocious puns and I’ll be the one going back on my word,” Logan replied in a monotone, expression flat. Patton muffled a laugh, not threatened in the least, and Logan rolled his eyes. “Proceed with your hunting, already.”

“Okay! Be back soon!” 

“...Okay.” 

[sp00kworm]

A Den of Iniquity (Part 5)

Pairing: Dracula/Count Dracula/Vlad Tepes x Female Reader

Warnings: Death, Murder, Blood, Gore, Injuries, Violence, Vomiting and Adult content.

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Part 1   Part 2     Part 3   Part 4 

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Anne’s ability to remain sober was yet to be seen. Dracula felt amusement ripple through him as his shadowed fingers moved along the walls of her basement home once again. She was asleep in front of her sofa, sleeping off the night shift she had just finished. The sun wasn’t up yet this late into the winter, and so, Dracula’s powers were not weakened by the threat of the sunrise. His smoke curled from the shadows, rippling in a wave down the walls, collecting on the floor like a pool of liquid nitrogen, cold and churning. The vampire’s form took shape within the rippling cloud before he reached within to produce the Van Helsing’s family book. The cracked leather back contacted the coffee table with a dull thump and Dracula turned his red eyes on the sleeping form of Anne. She didn’t stir. The vampire opened the book to the front page as he reformed into a human shape, his gloved fingers peeling free a page of her notebook silently.  Dracula took her pen from the table and penned out a message in old cursive just to spite the woman’s eyesight.

 ‘Perhaps we can talk about the mysteries of the darkness once more in the morgue? This evening.’

 With a curl to the end of his name, the vampire tucked the note inside the front cover and closed the book carefully, admiring the old cursive of Abraham’s writing as he made sure to place it in front of her. The vampire snatched the whiskey from her hand and replaced the lid before moving to tuck it away in her cabinet once more. He paused as he peered inside at the three other bottles. He looked at the label of the bottle in his hand, contemplative of such a desire to drink, before he replaced it in her cupboard and left in a rush of cold mist, trickling from her window over the small garden and out into the night once more.

Anne woke up with a start. Her neck burned with agony from being laid against her armchair, her head pressed back against the side of the headrest. With a groan, she raised her head and clutched at the back of her neck, trying to rub some blood flow back into the region. The sunlight was harsh against her eyes. She’d forgotten to close the curtains again when she got home. Anne looked at the window, glaring at the sunshine as she untucked herself from the armchair and glanced at the heavy, coffee table in front of her. Her blue eyes widened with disbelief as she gazed at the leather cover of her family’s Vampirology book. It was laid beside her empty whiskey tumbler. In a rush, she grasped the book from the table and cracked open the cover.  A piece of paper skittered free, flopping onto the side of the armchair. Anne scowled as she plucked the paper from the armrest. Vladimir. That damn Vampire had been in her home once more. She read the cursive and scoffed before angrily slamming her book down onto the coffee table.

“That fucking vampire.” She ran her fingers through her hair, huffing and puffing to herself as she stormed over to the window and looked though. It was open. She slammed the window shut before balling Dracula’s note into a small ball and throwing it at her desk in the corner of the lounge. With a growl she kicked the armchair before taking a deep breath and picking up the balled-up note and rereading it. On the back there was a carefully written date and time.

 It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. The King of Vampires knew where she lived anyway.

 The packets of cigarettes weren’t really a good substitute for the drinking, Anne figured out as she stood on top of the hospital roof, by the huge incineration chimneys. The incinerators were not burning, so she was free to smoke up on the roof for a while.

A rush of wind made her shudder before a smooth voice spoke behind her, “It is a beautiful night.” Dracula purred from above her. She pushed away from the wall and took a long drag of her cigarette as she looked up at the vampire who hung from the bar fixings of a satellite on the roof. A creature wrapped in its own wings morphed into the shape of a man, covered in a dark coat. He flopped from the bar yet landed like a predator, gracefully on his feet, his black coat hiding his form, wrapped around him tightly. Anne tapped the end of her cigarette, flicking ash onto the floor as she watched the monster walk across the roof, his heeled shoes silent against the concrete.

“Maybe for beasts like you. I’m fucking cold.” She took another drag of her cigarette and ignored the vampire as he loomed over her, stood inches from her back.

Dracula grinned with fangs, “Those sticks will kill you, hunter.” His voice curled in her ears like a dark promise.

“I’ll be dead with the liver cirrhosis first.” Anne stubbed the end out against the bricks before she dropped the end into the wall mounted ashtray, “What do you want, Dracula? Weren’t we meant to meet in the morgue?”

 Anne turned around into his chest and scowled at the closeness, looking up at his human face with distaste. A pale face was framed with dark hair which twisted with a mind of its own. His eyes were human-like, the dark brown almost black as he rubbed at the pointed facial hair on his jaw. The vampire’s hands stretched out between the two of them, and his fingers uncurled to reveal a single glass vial.

“Your blood?” Anne looked at the vial suspiciously, “What do you want me to do with it?”

Dracula’s other hand disappeared behind his own back before Anne gasped. A smoky hand revealed itself, her blade clutched in his hand. The vampire grinned with a hiss, mocking her as he tossed the weapon behind himself.

“Do what you want with it. Try and find a way to kill me. Seek cures for your diseases or simply drink it. I care not.” He hissed at the sight of her crucifix and flicked a finger, watching the silver melt from her neck before he continued, “Consider it a payment in blood for your…help.” He drawled the word before dropping the vial into Anne’s outstretched hand, “May its mysteries unravel swiftly, Doctor.”

 She wasn’t fooled. Dracula wasn’t an idiot. He wanted her to have his blood for a reason.

“You’re a creature of lies, Dracula. I’m not an idiot. I know when I am being made fun of.” Anne eyed the blade behind his imposing figure, “You must know, that after six hundred years, there is no return from the damnation of death you have chosen?”

Dracula looked at her, his eyes bleeding to red as the wind whipped at both of them, “The blood is the life.” He offered before he stepped back towards the shadows, his body melting into them as he flashed white fangs, “Perhaps you can find the answers of that life?” He laughed as he disappeared, not a trace of his red eyes or white teeth left in the shadows of the hospital as Anne rushed for her blessed blade.

The vial of blood was cold in her hand and she looked at the label with her glasses perched on the end of her nose. His office number was penned over the sticky note.

 The vampire watched the moon as he soared over the London rooftops, contemplating the foolishness of his own actions. Perhaps, he had just handed the key to his demise to a Van Helsing. The last descendant of the line. The last one that could kill him. There was a secret in his own condition. What he was could not be changed, he was too steeped in blood for that, but perhaps he could find the key to saving someone? Death wanted you. It wanted your life, but your soul would be damned, slipping through his fingers to hell if he did not act before the creature sought to take you. To condemn a person to darkness was for them to never be the same. A walking corpse and a shell of a person, filled with the desire to drink, sin and kill. He remembered, vividly, the feeling of your spectre on top of him and wondered if that was the future as he opened his wings and swooped down towards St.Paul’s Cathedral. His claws gripped at the tip of the spire on top of the dome. The night was loud beneath the building, taxis beeping still in the streets below. Humans never did truly rest anymore. Dracula peered at the stars with hellish eyes and watched the clouds roll over them, a cold fog dripping over the buildings around him from the drop in temperature.

 Dogs barked as he soared away from the cathedral, his wings spread as he caught the frigid wind and climbed higher over the city, gazing down at the orange streetlamps glittering below. It was a beautiful place, full of life even at a late hour. He compared his previous knowledge about London to its current state and purred at the delightful tastes of the humans scuttling below. People from all walks of life. Thinking of the taste of blood made him hunger for it and the vampire circled slowly towards the night time clubbing scene as he thought on the words of Death. Her death. As he landed, he felt his wings fall back into a coat and looked at the entrance to one of the rock bars. A man was outside in the fresh air of the side alley, looking up at the sky. His arms were covered in gooseflesh as she shivered in the cold of the November air, his vest clearly not the correct choice for the weather. Dracula watched from the streetlamp as he pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing something on it. The vampire walked across the road, his dark eyes flashing as he turned his influence on the man, churning his thoughts with desires he never knew he had until the darkness played with them. The man turned his head and opened his mouth as he looked at the vampire walking towards him.

 Dracula peered down at the young man, “Good evening.” Hypnotism clouded the man’s eyes as he reached to brush a finger over his cheek, nail dragging against the skin.

“Your place or mine?” He asked as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

The vampire pressed him against the alley and covered his eyes before feeling the heaviness of hunger in his gut and the sharpness of his own teeth, “Here is fine.” He muttered as he exposed the man’s neck, holding his legs open so it would appear like a tryst in the alleyway if anyone were to walk past. His gloved hand muffled the scream that escaped the man as he bit into his neck, hard and deep. Blood spurted over his tongue as he lapped at the wounds, sucking harshly before it started to flow by itself, the artery spurting violently from the damage of his teeth. His stomach ached with fullness as he tore himself away and licked at the wounds, looking at the puckered flesh as he cleaned the neck completely clean. Dracula took his scarf from his own neck and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders and neck, hiding the damage as he tucked him close to the alley entrance and slipped into the shadows once more.

“You will remember nothing of this. Go home. Sleep.”

A moment later, the man awoke with a groan, clasping his neck and head in pain before he shivered and pulled the shawl of the scarf tighter around himself, hailing a taxi from the side of the road. The vampire licked blood from his chin as he turned down a side road, the feed not helping to clear his mind any.

 “I’ll be home tomorrow morning, Drac. Sue said she’d come in and check in on you early and I filled your bowls.” You looked at your cat and sighed. He was sulking, tucked up on top of the cupboards again out of the way, “Be good!” You tugged his tail and dodged his paw before you picked up your overnight bag and headed towards your door. You locked it and tugged the handle before descending the stairs and heading towards the pavement. There, parked up on the curb, was a slick black car. The tinted glass slid down smoothly, and Vladimir poked his head out of the car, his sunglasses perched on the end of his nose as he smiled at your approach.

“Somehow I’m not surprised by the BMW.” You joked as you looked at him through the window. He was dressed in a heavy turtleneck jumper, his hair tied back with tight jeans ironed to perfection. Vlad open the door of the driver’s seat and shuddered in the cold.

“It was more money than I expected to pay.” He opened the back of the car with a press of a button and huffed, “I think the dealer got most of what I paid.”

“Imagine that being your only concern.” You laughed and rolled your eyes, “It is a gorgeous car.” You complimented as you put your bag in the back and walked around to the passenger seat. Vladimir made no move to open you the door but simply climbed back inside and pushed the stick into gear as you clipped your belt into place.

“Let us go, then. I have a few things for us to do.” He pulled away from your home and shop with a spin of the wheel.

“Does that list include the movies you promised?” You glanced around at the interior of the car.

“But of course!”

 His home was as grand as ever, though devoid of any extra staff this time. You looked at the wood to carpet floors and sighed. It was a dream home. You looked at the curtains and rugs and smile at the change from red to purple.

“Did you get new curtains because of me?” You asked as you pulled your coat free and felt your hair. It was raining outside, in a typical November fashion, and you made sure to hang your coat a little closer to the radiator on the stand, so it would dry and not smell too musty from the rainwater.

Vladimir tugged at his jumper and decided it was dry enough to not change before he replied, “I might have changed them. I decided royal purple was more fit for a woman of your stature, madame.” He dipped to take your hand, kissing it like a prince before he laughed joyously and twirled you under his arm.

You were a little overwhelmed with the treatment and blushed at the attention as Vladimir spun you towards the stairs.

“You can put your bag in the guest bedroom.” Vladimir pointed to the top of the stairs and turned his finger to the right, “It is the door to the right of the bathroom. Second door on the right.”

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled and took your bag handles in your hand before climbing the stairs to deposit your things in the guest bedroom.

 It smelt of fresh roses. Fresh Tudor roses sat in a vase on the vanity by the window. The soft scent wafted across the fresh bedding and permeated from the curtains that were drawn over the window. It was dark now outside, the winter making the days incredibly short. With another inhale of the fresh smell, you placed your bag on the bed and smiled around at the décor. It was all expensive. Real wood and shined wax surfaces with rich coloured walls. There was even a canopy bed. You pulled the ties from the sheer curtains and watched them fall with a grin. It was a room fit for a princess. You took your toiletry bag from your satchel and walked to the vanity. It was cleaned and lined with intricate glass bottles, made for expensive oil-based perfumes. The toiletries in your bag paled in comparison to how much the Egyptian glass bottles must have cost Vladimir. The stopper was hard to pull out but when it popped free you hummed at the smell of the Myrrh based perfume. You looked at the oil inside and frowned as the liquid dripped up to the edge of the bottle. A drop of oil clung to the corner and you pressed your finger to it before dabbing it against your neck. Another drop followed it. It dripped, floating upwards before dropping back into the bottle as though it had never defied gravity. You took the stopper and tapped it back into the bottle before dabbing the oil on your neck, a dot behind each ear and one on each wrist. It was a heavy smell. A light scent of cinnamon mixed in with cardamom behind a heavy base of Myrrh.

 Vladimir was sprawled out on a large sofa in the lounge, his feet up on a stool and his fingers playing with the buttons of his remote control for the television. You smiled as you entered the room, playing with the corner of your top before you sat in the spare seat next to him, tucking your feet under yourself as you looked at the television. He’d been passing the time with dramas, though his phone on the cushions told you he hadn’t been bothered for actually watching what was playing. Vladimir held his arm up off the cushions and curled the fingers of his other hand. For a moment, you were apprehensive, but you were quickly swayed by the idea of a hug, and scooted along the cushions before letting Vladimir tug you close, hugging you to his side as he offered you the television remote.

“Guest’s choice first, my dear.” Vladimir let you take the remote and ran his fingers over your hair before lowering his nose beneath your chin, “Did you use a perfume?” He asked as he tucked cold fingers under your chin, swiping it over your skin before sniffing at the smell on his hands, “Myrrh is expensive. A good choice.”

Embarrassment coloured your skin, “It smelt nice so I…”

“I’m not mad. They are made for using.” Vladimir cooed before he watched you open the various streaming services he had.

 “What was it that you wanted to watch?” You asked Vladimir as he pushed your drink across the coffee table and handed you a menu for take-out.

The business owner hummed, “There was a film.” He opened his hand before pointing to the screen as you scrolled over a film, “That one. About…Ah yes. The monster and the woman. Apparently, it won awards, no?” He asked as you clicked open the film for him to see.

“It did win a lot of awards, yeah.” You confirmed as he settled back against the cushions, his arm wrapped around you firmly, holding you against his side as you pressed play, “What do you want to order?” You asked, holding out the menu for him to see, “Chinese?”

“I’m not hungry. I had a business dinner before three o’clock. Order what you want, my dear. I’ll pay for it.” He offered as you hummed, “I have heard that the chow mein from there is good.”

You laughed at his pronunciation but nodded none the less, “I think I’ll get that then.” The menu had the number on the back, and you rang to order before returning your attention back to the movie that Vladimir had requested be put on. It was about a mute woman and her fish god lover. You quickly became entranced, warily pressed up against Vladimir as his hand circled your waist.

 The blood pumping against him was a temptation he was now very able to resist. Hundreds of years meant he could control himself. It was a short leash, and he felt the urge to simply feel the crunch of bone and meat under his teeth intensely. His leash grew a little shorter as he ghosted his fingers over your wrist, feeling the thumping of a nervous heart underneath the skin. Dracula’s ear perked at the door and he took the excuse to escape the blood and flesh that felt so divine underneath his fingers. He heard you pause the movie and cursed that you were listening.

“Hi. Chinese delivery.” The driver offered him the bag of food.

The vampire smiled thinly, “Thank you.” He gave the man a twenty-pound note, “Now please take your multi-tool and cut your arm.” The words were carried on a heavy breeze, thick and laced with temptation. The delivery man’s eyes went cloudy, unfocused as he tugged a swiss army knife from his pocket and flicked open the blade. The vampire watched him cut the skin and hissed through his teeth, opening his mouth as the man held his arm higher in the air, letting blood fall from his skin. Dracula shuddered as he opened his mouth to catch the stray drops. He licked the skin with a cold tongue, smearing pink spit in his wake as he sucked fast mouthfuls of blood into his mouth, thankful all the curtains were drawn to hide him.

 “Have you got enough money to pay?”

 The vampire released the wound and licked the blood from his mouth, his meal settling in his stomach. He licked a drop of blood from the plastic bag handle and wiped at his mouth.

“Have a good evening, sir.” He spun his index finger and watched the delivery driver nod and disappear back towards his car, blood dripping down towards his fingers, “I’ve got enough don’t worry.” He clinked some coins in his pocket and closed the door as the driver pulled out of his drive and onto the street. He grabbed a tissue and wiped his face. There was only a small trickle of blood and he sucked at his teeth before he went to the kitchen to fetch you a plate and cutlery.

Vladimir smiled under your gaze as he entered the lounge again, “I got you a few things. I didn’t know whether you would eat it out of the box?” He placed the plate and cutlery down followed by your food.

“Thank you. You’re sweet.” You cooed at him as he sat back down, “Oh. I think they spilt some sauce on the box.” You grumbled at the splodge of blood on top of the plastic box. He felt his heart sink a little before you simply wiped it away with a curl of your nose. Dracula smiled as you tucked into the food, settled back at his side as you ate quietly. He restarted the movie, feeling relief flood his system as you didn’t question the mysterious red substance.

 The beast purred at the idea of the next meal being you. His gripped your thigh gently to ground himself. You were not a meal to be eaten and wasted. He wouldn’t throw you at Death’s feet.

 After a movie named ‘The Others’ you both decided it was getting to be late. You looked at the clock and hummed against his side, fingers curling into the black jumper over Vladimir’s chest. It was a fine make, expensive wool soft under your fingers, and you smiled sleepily up at him as he adjusted you, sitting you in his lap, your thighs either side of his own. It was intimate, but you found your heart soaring at the contact and at the idea of where it meant you both were with each other.

“Are you tired, my dear?” He asked softly, his nose pressed to your ear before he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, the smell of Myrrh intoxicating.

“Mmm.” You hummed, fingers playing with the ends of his beautifully wavy hair, the dark, black locks slipping through your fingers like snakes.

“Would you like to rest now?” Vladimir made a pleased noise at the attention to his hair.

Your fingers paused in his locks, “I’d like a shower…If that’s alright?” You asked quietly.

“That is more than fine.” He nodded before letting you stand up, his cool fingers lingering against your hands as you stood, “You know where the bathroom is, yes?”

“First door on the right. I know.”

“I’ll bring you some fresh towels.” He promised as you left the room, closing the door behind you.

 The vampire felt his stomach churn with an unknown sensation, the memory of you against him, burned into his skin like a fever.

 The water was hot against your skin, soothing the ache in your back from working at the counter the whole day serving tourists. You rubbed at your skin with the minty smelling soap, enjoying the tingle of peppermint over your skin as you washed the lather of soap away. The wet room was slate and sparklingly clean. The glass fogged and you turned in the spray, admiring the chrome shelving and posh soaps and shampoos Vladimir had carefully lined up. A need burned in your stomach, but you ignored the temptation to stir the fire smouldering down there as you turned and swiped at the fog over the glass. Vladimir’s cool hands would make a better job of sating your desires. You were quick to dismiss the idea and turned back into the hot water. That was until the door creaked open behind you.

“I have brought you towels.” Vladimir spoke from the door before pausing, watching your skin disappear as the swiped area of the glass fogged back up, slowly making your form disappear from his view once more, “Forgive me…” He spoke loud enough to just be heard over the harsh spray of water, “But you are beautiful.” Vladimir complimented as he placed the pile of fresh towels on top of the toilet lid

 Burning water did not cool your skin as you listened to his voice. You turned under the hot water as you listened to him step closer to the shower screens. You heart thudded in your chest, shaking your hands as you took a step closer to the glass as well.

“You are radiant.” Vladimir purred, “Gorgeous like a goddess. Something to be worshipped.” You looked at the figure beyond the foggy glass and watched him place his hand against the screen.

All of a sudden, you managed to find your voice, “Is that what you say to them all?” The words were half choked in your throat, but Vladimir heard them all the same.

“I have only said those words once before…and she is gone now.” He promised. You could feel the agony in his words and you glanced at the glass before wiping away the condensation to reveal his face, intense eyes looking into your own, despite not being able to see you until a moment ago, “She is dead and no other has ever…filled the hole.” He pressed his forehead to the glass. His dark eyes shimmered with a colour you had never seen before he smiled and turned away from you, “I will leave you. I apologise for being so forward.”

Before he could leave, you opened the shower door and grabbed for a towel, hiding your body from his eyes before he could see you again.

 “I…I don’t.” Your mouth seized as his eyes turned darker, a smirk curling on his lips as he admired you, even hidden behind a towel.

“Won’t you let me see you?” Vladimir whispered, “Won’t you let me worship you?” He asked as he came closer, his hands reaching to cup your waist as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart thundered underneath his touch, “I don’t know if I should let you.”

Vladimir’s nose pushed under your chin as he smelt the heavy scent of the Myrrh perfume still clinging to your damp skin, “And why not? Why deny yourself such pleasure?”

You reached for his hair again and pushed it away from his cheek, “Because I don’t feel like I know you.” You confessed, “I don’t know who you really are.”

Vladimir looked at you, your faces close, your noses brushing together before he leaned down to place a single kiss to your lips.

 Together, you melded against one another, hands clutching each other at you deepened the kiss a little. He pulled away as quickly as the feverishness began.

“I can tell you. Soon, I will tell you everything.” He promised as you looked at his handsome face. His eyes were wet, red at the corners before he hugged you tightly, “I…I think I feel something deeply for you. I understand this is a lot.” He confessed to you in a rush, shuddering against you as though he was crying.

“I…” Your mouth was dry, “I think I feel the same, but I don’t…I can’t explain it.” You whispered against his jumper.

Vladimir pushed his fingers into your flesh, as though you were going to disappear, “I can’t either.” He agreed, “But I know that I want to be with you…However you want me.” The man fell to his knees, “I am your servant.” The man’s hands grazed up your legs, slowly, dragging cold lines behind his fingertips as he looked up at you, hair falling over his eyes and cheeks.

You reached for his face with a soft smile, “I don’t want a servant.” He let you tug him back to his feet, “I want an equal.”

Vladimir’s lips met your own in a crush of passion, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he held you as close as he could manage, his arms moving from your face to clutch your body close.

 “Do you think you could love a monster?”

“If that monster loved me, I could.”

 The sound of an alarm sounding woke you up. It was loud, a persistent beeping noise against the drowsiness in your head. It was sharp and ear piercing. You rushed to find your phone at the noise, rustling in the duvet to find it. After a moment, you opened your eyes, and found the phone on top of the nightstand. You silenced your alarm and groaned into the room as you tried to force the sleep from yourself. The room was silent now. You dragged your phone from the stand and squinted at the time before rolling over and realising you were alone. It was nine in the morning and Vladimir was nowhere to be seen. You sat up with the sheets and looked down at yourself. You were naked yet there was no ache in your body. There was no mess either. Nothing had happened. You remembered laying on top of Vladimir, kissing him between tales from his homeland as you listened and learned. The tale of the beast in the castle. The River Princess. The fog in the hills. All of it fascinated you. You’d listened to the sound of his voice, late into the evening, tracing patterns on his skin as he rumbled with laughter.

 The bedside table rustled as you placed your hand on it. You frowned and gripped a piece of paper. It was labelled with your name. You unfolded the paper and looked at the note inside. Vladimir had an early meeting to attend. A sadness curled in your chest as you sat up properly and peered at the grandness of Vladimir’s own bedroom. You got out of the bed and walked over to his vanity before frowning. All the mirrors were covered in black silk, hidden out of view. You pulled back one of the sheets and looked in the floor standing mirror. It was in good shape yet old, like an antique. Your own face looked back before you re-covered the mirror. There wasn’t anything different in Vladimir’s room until you caught sight of the great portrait on the old chimney breast. A painted man looked down at you, a sword laid across his lap. You looked at the sword mounted underneath the painting and gazed in awe at the sharpness and magnificence of them both. Wondering if he was a collector, you took one of Vladimir’s red robes from his door and tied it around your waist before venturing to get some breakfast.

 Dracula hissed as the door closed, blood spurting from his mouth, his latest meal laid in the soil next to him as he purred, claws slipping further into the earth as he listened to you move. The sound of silk over skin made him gurgle again as he closed his eyes, wishing that the night could replay over and over in his mind.

 ‘I know you have gone home but thank you for spending last night with me. I adored it. Will I see you again soon?’

You smiled down at your phone as you paused eating your lunch inside your shop. You replied with a witty comment and waited for his reply before going back to your lunch, thinking on the way Vladimir’s hands could hold you in other ways. Your brain skittered into the gutter for the rest of the afternoon.

 Anne held the glass slide in her hand as she tried to comprehend what she was holding in her hand. It was beyond what she had seen before. Nothing compared. No disease had such virulence nor the ability to do what she had seen from Dracula’s own cells. His lymphatic cells were an amazing thing to watch, simultaneously killing and repairing the red blood cells, making them immortal. The blood she had originally was just as active now in her hands. She’d injected a rat with a small does, just to see what happened. The beast had appeared unfazed initially. Slowly, it had died off, its legs stopping working before she did the kindness and put the animal to sleep. It hadn’t died from the drugs. She ended up having to take the creature’s head off. Immortality. The rat was impervious to chemicals and drugs that could kill. It was an amazing thing, but Anne wasn’t swayed. She knew what the blood meant, and what it was capable of. A constant state of death and life. A curse upon those who were infected with Dracula’s blood. Damnation from God. Rejection of the light was not curable. She needed to tell the vampire that. He was beyond the help of mortals. Damned forever. He could live as a hunted beast or die by her hands.

 “A frown makes you look older.” Dracula rumbled from underneath her. Red eyes opened in her shadow and Anne jumped backwards as the beast slid from her shadow and coalesced into a physical form. The shadows swirled into the human form of Dracula and Anne levelled him with a look of contempt.

“Has six hundred years taught you no manners?” She huffed as he drew the vial of the vampire’s blood from her coat and held it up for him to see. There was a little more than half left, “I wanted to tell you about this.” She tossed the blood back at the vampire.

Dracula caught the vial and took the top from the vial, smelling his own blood before he stuck out a pointed, long tongue, a mouth full of pointed teeth opening wide as he took his own blood back into himself.

“What did you find, Anne?” He asked as he tucked his hands into his pockets, licking blood from his bottom lip.

“Everything I expected to find. Your own cells are killing themselves and then repairing at a rate that is explosive. You shouldn’t be moving at all.” She huffed, “Though I suppose you aren’t alive. You’re a monster. A walking corpse.” Anne took a holy blade from her sleeve and watched as the vampire’s hair waved over his head in a mind of its own.

 “You raise a blade to me after I gave you the answer to eternal life?” Dracula’s voice boomed off the concrete of the rooftop, “After I gave you the answers to everything?” He snarled as his hair covered his face, blood red eyes burning through the strands as he took his hands from his pockets and watched the hands grow and shift into snarling curls of shadowy monsters.

“I raise my blade at a beast and a monster. A creature that has killed for fun, enjoyment and sport. You enjoy all of this. You enjoy playing with people like a game!” She hissed at him as she drew a long sword from her belt. A sword and a dagger. Dracula’s mouth opened up the sides of his face as he faced the hunter, eyes peering from a moving creature of shadows.

“This is the face of life!” He howled at Anne, shadows bursting from him as dogs howled at the night sky below.

“You are nothing but corruption and death!” She shouted back, her feet planted firmly on the floor as the vampire hissed and spat across from her. Without another thought, she sent a small blade flying towards his red eyes. The shadows moved into two pieces, and the dagger flew through him before she was upon him with blessed steel. Her swipes swished through nothing but air as Dracula soared into the sky above her and dived, great clawed talons scratching at her face. Anne launched her dagger at him as he climbed once more and grinned at the vampire howled, blood spurting from his grey skinned side.

 With a growl, she watched the vampire soar into the night sky, escaping with her blade lodged under his ribs. The night sky was littered with cold looking stars, clouds rolling over the moon as she watched the bat wings disappear behind the church and rooftops. It was a moment later that she looked at the scratches on her arms and the trail of wet saliva over one of them. Dracula had tasted her blood. He knew her plans, or at least pieces of them. She cursed the beast as she got to her feet, sheathing her old sword before collecting the holy throwing daggers from the rooftop. Anne tucked her coat back around her weapons and looked at her ward watch which was clipped to her pocket. Her shift started in an hour. She had enough time to return home and clean herself before she had dead bodies to look at and examine.

“I’ll finish my family’s work, Dracula…” She opened the stairs, “Starting with that new toy of yours.” The stairwell doors closed with a resounding slam.

[mommy-medusa]

Medusa’s Child

First chapter of Medusa’s Child! I’m posting this just as a test to see if y’all like it!

———————

She was first alerted of a presence by an uneven splashing against the nearby shore.

It was the early evening, and the sun was at its best point in the sky, raining down on Sarpedon in just the right way to make her scales light with painless flames. She stretched out on her branch, pressing her bare belly up to the warm rays. Her tail flicked lazily while her mane of snakes hissed and tugged in the direction of the noises. She swatted a clawed hand at them.

  “Let him come,” Medusa murmured in a husky, languid voice, not bothering to open her eyes. “You know he won’t stand a chance anyway.” She ran her black talons down her exposed breasts and stomach, chuckling deeply. “He may as well die with the image of a beautiful woman in his mind. We can give him that, at least.”

There were mixed reactions from her snakes, some spats of disapproval, some hisses of agreement, but they all coiled back down into quietness. Or, as quiet as a head full of serpents could be.

Compared to other creatures across the land, Medusa had a remarkably good childhood if she did say so herself. Her parents were the ferocious Ceto and cold Phorcys, ancient sea gods that kept the ocean seething with their monstrous children.

Phorcys was a grey-haired, fish-tailed mountain of a man, with rough red, spiky crustacean skin and huge crab claws that were strong enough to snap off the head of any mortal man that approached his territory. He was faster than any sea creature and stronger than any current in the existing waters. He could create a tsunami big enough to drown Greece with one splash of his mighty tail.

Ceto was quite possibly more terrifying than her father, however. She was a fair maiden with shiny, unblemished ivory skin she never covered up and long, wavy black hair that floated like Kraken tentacles in the water around her. Her eyes were green and sharp enough to cut through obsidian, and her voice was booming enough to crack the earth and drain the entire ocean. She was as venomous as her animal creations, but she taught Medusa discipline and respect at a very young age.

Together, the two of them brought forth a myriad of devilish children. Ekhidna, a dangerous she-dragon with the head and breasts of a beautiful woman and the body of a coiling serpent; Scylla, a giant crab that ate sailors; Ladon, a dragon with one hundred head; the Graiai, three grey hags that shared one tooth and one eye; and the Gorgons, a trio of women with the bodies of serpents and hair made of living, venomous snakes.

Medusa was a part of the final group. Which was the best, for the record.

Medusa and her two sisters were born on a dark day, where the sky seethed with storm and the sea seemed to wrath against its gods. Through crashing waves and spitting sea foam, Ceto dredged her soaked, swollen body from the hissing water and into a cave where it was dry. The tide tried to chase her, nipping at her heels like desperate piranhas, but could not chase her all the way up the sand.

Within the cave, the pelting rain and howling gales were muffled by thick stone. Droplets of water dripped from stalactites that hung from the ceiling like dozens of monster fangs. Small tidepools were laid across the ground like traps, seemingly existing to trip Ceto and make her crash down onto her thick belly. But she managed to avoid them, hissing strings of curses to the starfish and crabs and tiny fish that thrived within the wet sinkholes before collapsing to the ground, powerful cramps rippling through her body.

There, Ceto gave birth in the eye of a raging hurricane, her monstrous children writhing out of her womb, clawing and scratching for the world outside of her body.

Stheno was first, born thrashing and hissing and brimming with rage the moment she came out. She was a thin little thing, but her blood red tail whipped around with enough power to crumble mountains. Her crimson mane of snakes sprung to life instantly, fangs flashing, hissing so loud they challenged the whirlwind outside the cave. The scales upon her head and face made it look like she was permanently stained in mortal blood, and the boar tusks curling out from her mouth looked wickedly sharp. Mere moments after being born, she had lunged at a tidepool and ripped apart a small crab with bronze claws, devouring it in just a few snaps of her powerful jaws.

Euryale came next, sliding out in a slick of fluids and screaming so loud she threatened to bring the whole cave down on top of them. Her white and yellow tail lashed as she cried, sending clumps of wet sand flinging through the air. The mane of snakes upon her skull, which had red snouts that looked like they had been dipped in blood, wailed with her, strange, raspy sounds that vibrated through the air like static electricity. There were small horn nubs protruding from her forehead, which had explained the pain when she was coming out. Stheno tackled her, whacking their tails together, and began wrestling with her.

Finally, out came Medusa, green scales shiny and new-looking. The first thing she remembered was seeing her eldest sister chewing on her second eldest sister’s tail. She had blinked her golden yellow eyes at them, flicking her own emerald green tail like she was expecting something to be attached to it. And then, she was lifted up and she saw a beautiful woman gazing down at her. Her mane of snakes snapped at the long black hair cascading down onto her belly.

  “What peculiar little beast you all are,” She remembered her mother rumbling. Ceto scooped up Stheno and Euryale and held all three sisters in front of her. “And what slayers you will all be, indeed.”

And she was right.

Medusa’s childhood passed by in a blur of mortal blood and seawater. Her mother taught her how to strike fear into mortal men. Her father taught her how to swim and fly when all of their wings eventually grew in. And her sisters taught her to hide her prey or else it would get stolen.

She was raised in the darkest reaches of the ocean depths, where granite tunnels formed interlocking caves and caverns below the rolling waves. While most children grew up raising family goats and playing with dolls made of straw, Medusa and her sisters grew up taming sea monsters and playing hide-and-seek with venomous lionfish. They created crags of coral along the seafloor with their eyes alone and swept through the ocean currents on scaled wings. When they would go up to the surface, they watched the mortals in their wooden vessels, laughing at the way they attempted to overpower the waves that rocked them mercilessly.

That was when they discovered their deadly eye power.

Medusa was a monstrous teenager, floating along the ocean’s surface, when Stheno presented the idea to her.

  “Swim into their nets and pretend to be dead,” Her older sister had said. Sunlight glinted off her blood red scales. When she smiled, her teeth were like a shark’s. “When they pull you up, give them a scare.”

Medusa gave a laugh. The only thing better than observing a mortal’s stupidity was causing the mortal’s stupidity by interacting with them. Of course, she agreed.

She swam into one of the large nets drifting beneath the boat, startling off a cloud of slippery grey-blue fish. She let herself get tangled up in its loops, tugging on the ropes enough to alert the sailors. After a few moments, the net began to rise, and she faintly heard the giggling of her sister’s vibrating through the water.

Cool sea air hit her bare skin; a series of gasps exploded throughout the vessel. The rough feeling of wood chafed against the scales on her exposed back as the net was dropped into the boat. She struggled to keep in the giggles and play dead as loud murmurs whisked around her.

The men were wondering what she was, asking themselves how they managed to wrangle up a thing. One of them poked her tail with something pointy and she almost flinched, but managed to tighten her muscles and stay still.

And then, there was a hand grabbing her breast.

The man above her purred out something about her being beautiful and warm and the others should “give it a try.”

Her eyes snapped open wide. She ogled the man above her in shock and fear and disgust; he was a scruffy and flabby creature with hungry eyes and crooked yellow teeth. His hand remained on her breast as they locked gazes, and then his face did something strange.

It twitched. And his eyes went weirdly blank. And he sucked in a harsh breath.

The man’s entire body jerked like his soul was trying to claw its way out of his back. His brown eyes bulged and rolled wildly in his skull, and Medusa could see grey spreading rapidly over the eye balls.

Stone began to march across the man’s flesh like a swarm of fire ants. He tried to scratch it off, but his nails bounced right off. His movements quickly began to stiffen as whatever came over him took hold.

His chest froze solid first, then his hands and feet, his ears, his arms and legs, all the way to his throat. His eyes were no longer brown, rather blank grey. His greasy blonde hair did not sway in the cool breeze. His mouth was open, teeth blunted by rock, and twisted in an agonized expression. One hand was extended outward to his crewmates in a final gesture of desperation.

The man had been turned to stone.

The other mortals on the boat began to frenzy. Some ran away in fear, others brandished their weapons, but they, too, met the ill fate of their crewmate. One stare and they hardened into a statue against their will.

Stheno and Euryale had been alerted by the noise and they flew up to the ship. Both of them looked shocked at what was going on.

  “What is happening?” Euryale asked.

  “I-- I don’t know.” Medusa replied, slowly sitting up. She was absurdly confused at what was going on. “I turned them to stone.”

  “How?” Stheno demanded.

  “I looked at them.”

  “Hm.” Stheno lashed out at a fleeing young man and flared her giant red wings open, essentially trapping him. Medusa heard a short scream, and then silence. When her sister pulled back, the man was frozen in an encasing of stone.

The discovery of their power sparked great fear across the land, but amazement inside Medusa and her sisters. Stheno used it the most, killing more men than Medusa and Euryale combined. She kept her favorite statues in her lair as trophies, adorning them with her jewels and other treasures.

Euryale rarely ever killed, not because she didn’t like it, but because she never went out of her way to go around mortals. She rather watch them from afar, observing their strange hive mind mentality.

Medusa was a mix between the two. Sometimes she would simply stay away, other times she liked to see how dumb mortal men were when she came across them.

When they eventually came of age, the three sisters ventured off from the darkness of their homeland sea. Medusa went to an island called Sarpedon, claiming it as her own domain. Mortal men saw it as an arena, however, and often sailed to her home to challenge her. It wasn’t long before her island was filled with the statues of foolish men, decorating her gardens with the trophies of her success.

And another was about to be added to the collection.

There were crashes through her jungle; the stupid man was romping through her home and disturbing her nap!

Sighing, Medusa uncoiled her elegantly long body from the tree branch and carefully climbed down the trunk. Her emerald green scales and lucious brown skin shimmered in the sunlight filtering down from the canopy of leaves up above, dewdrops from the condensation of her garden sliding like melted diamonds down her tail. She slithered through the weeds, passing by ruined pillars and petrified statues, all of which were swathed with moss and vines. She admired them as she went by, as she always did, as she always would. It was quite lonely on her island, but she rather be alone than have the company of a man.

A spray of bright yellow birds exploded from the trees when she came slithering by. Sharp-tusked creatures of fur darted in and out of the bushes, poised and waiting to flee while they watched her. The boars always liked to test her. Perhaps that was what made them so delicious. The looks on their faces when she managed to snatch one and scarf them down was priceless.

There was rustling near the bay. Medusa pricked one of her pointed ears while her mane of venomous snakes hissed in alertness. She smacked the nose of one of them to quiet them down and then went after her prey.

  “Hello?” She called out in a purr. “Come out, come out wherever you are…”

Emerging from the lush underbrush, Medusa set her eyes on the small wooden boat bobbing slowly in the waves that splashed upon her shore. Even through the cracking of seawater and crackle of forest fronds behind her, she could hear small noises emitting from the vessel. A smirk came upon her face, flashing her fangs into the sun.

Medusa flicked her ears and slithered out onto the beach. A bright red crab saw her coming and darted into the splashing waves to hide. A mere crustacean was the least of her concern right now, though. She could eat later.

Right now, she had bigger prey to catch.

Nobody fled from the boat as she approached it, which she found odd. Usually the men ran towards her or at least away from her, none of them ever lied still like an animal in a trap, waiting for her to end their pathetic existence.

Well. At least it made her job easier. Rushing through the jungle wasn’t exactly her favorite pastime.

  “Here we go, ladies,” Medusa whispered to her snakes, earning a harmony of eager hisses.

Medusa sprang up to the boat, claws raised and brandished, fangs bared, wings flared out to their full size. Her snakes swelled up and hissed loudly, mouths loaded with potent venom. Her bright yellow eyes were flashing, ready to strike this man into stone, and--

--and she froze.

There was no man in this vessel.

It was a woman.

She was a mangy, bedraggled mortal, with matted brown hair, agonized amber eyes, and mud-slathered ashy skin. But upon closer inspection, Medusa realized that it wasn’t mud at all, it was blood. And the woman was absolutely dripping in it thanks to the giant gash across her belly, along with numerous other cuts from swords and holes from arrows. In her bony arms, she clutched a tiny bundle swathed in sheep’s wool to her heaving chest.

  “I apologize over intruding, fair lady,” Croaked the woman, her voice thick with her own blood. “You do have to understand my dilemma. I am afraid I cannot leave, though…there is not much time left for me anyway.” She coughed, and the wound across her abdomen strained so much that Medusa was surprised all her guts didn’t come bursting out. “I made it this far. Wrapping my wounds, washing them out with saltwater in a vain attempt to combat infection. But I am afraid my breast milk must taste like blood. And nothing will matter anyway. They treat us like SLAVES. Breeding cows owned by our husband. I had to kill him! I couldn’t let him arrange MY BABY--” A coughing fit consumed her, and blood gushed from her mouth as if her aorta had been severed. “I had to… I had to…”

Medusa was still. Not even her snakes were snapping or hissing, instead bobbing silently around her head. They, too, were stunned at the outpour of emotions spilling out at them.

The woman craned her head around slowly. When her body spasmed as if it had been shocked, Medusa knew the stone curse had taken hold. And yet, the mortal smiled.

  “You…” She rasped. The curse always started in the chest and spread like a wildfire throughout the rest of the body; her lungs were rapidly being devoured by stone. “You are no monster…”

Medusa reared back slightly. If this stranger willingly meeting her gaze wasn’t strange enough, then that certainly was. Medusa knew better than anything that she was a monster, it was what her mother taught her.

  “I didn’t expect the man-slayer to be so beautiful,” The woman went on. She pulled the wool-swaddled bundle from her chest and held it out as dark grey marched across her skin. “Well, Medusa, killer of men…now’s your chance to show the cosmos what you truly are.”

The woman’s entire body froze, locked in an eternal casing of stone. She wouldn’t be in pain any longer, for her gaping wounds had been filled in with granite. In her petrified grey hands, rested the bundle.

Medusa carefully peered over the wrapping of wool and to the tiny baby resting within it, undisturbed by the ill fate of its mother.

For a long moment, only the crashing of waves and distant sound of island fauna filled the beach. The crab from earlier came cautiously creeping out of the wet sand, but bolted the moment it saw Medusa move to scoop up the little mortal.

It had to be only a few months old, if mortals were anything like her and her sisters. She was now wishing she had studied humans as much as Euryale had. She had no idea if it was supposed to be this light or small or what gender it even was. What she did know, however, was that it was very, very white, as if it had never been in the sun before. She also noticed the tufts of ashy brown hair on its head and the constellation of freckles swirling across its chubby cheeks. Unfortunately, she was unable to see its eyes, as she had to whip her gaze away when its eyelids began to flutter.

Medusa stared intensely at a cluster of seaweed-tangled driftwood as the baby in her arms began to make little noises while it woke up. It shifted in its wool blankets, sending small tremors through Medusa’s arms, but then Medusa realized that was just from her own trembling.

What was she going to do with this thing? She couldn’t bring herself to gaze into its innocent eyes and infect its helpless body with cold stone. She couldn’t leave it to be eaten by the animals on her island, either. And she DEFINITELY couldn’t raise it herself, and yet…

Medusa held the baby to her chest and felt its soft cheek press against her skin. Its pasty flesh was warm against her own, and she couldn’t help but cuddle it closer. One of her snakes made a low hiss.

  “You will say nothing.” Medusa warned as she turned and went back into the forest.

Medusa began slithering through the dense brambles and interlocking thickets of lianas. The tangled trees seemed to be reaching for her and her mortal straggler with long trailing roots and branches like skeletal fingers snarled together overhead to create a canopy of sorts. Sunlight filtered in from above, casting pale yellow spots across the large boulders and ruined pillars dotting the foliage. They were all huge and just lied around like the remnants of an ancient landslide. A few packed together tightly against a tall fjord of earth, creating a rocky corridor of sorts. There was another path to get to the other side, beneath a log suspended in the air by two crags and through some weeds, but Medusa decided the crevice would be easier to traverse with the child she was holding.

Walking through the passageway felt like she was getting a hug from the Gaia herself. It was a slight squeeze to go through, she had to hunch her shoulders in to keep them from scraping against the walls, but it felt worth it for the sake of saving time.

Yellow and purple flowers were blooming from vines etched in the moss-matted bedrock on either side of her. Orange and green and amber were streaked through the rock walls, glowing beneath streams of water that glittered like melted pearls from a spring somewhere up above. Specks of sunlight bleeding in through the canopy above would hit the stone’s tears in just the right way to set them off in radians of iridescent and silver. The deep emerald moss was fluffy beneath Medusa’s fingers when she tentatively touched the patches. Ahead, she then saw braids of vine dangling down from a long, reaching branch that had itself draped over one of the boulders. When she pushed through the curtain, she was met with a small clearing full of scattered trees that broke down and folded into a field of rock crags that bordered a glistening river.

Medusa walked through the grass and down onto the shoreline. Most of the bay there were shallows that have leaked into the openings between stony ridges risen from the ground. She shivered as she waded through the water, feeling the cold jolt through her scales. She clambered up the first rock she could reach as fast as she could, doing her best to not splash the delicate cargo she was holding.

Medusa had to traverse the rock formations carefully. Usually she jetted across them, but now she had a fragile mortal baby in her arms. She didn’t want to accidentally trip and be sent sprawling onto the little one.

As she crossed over a fallen log that allowed access to the other side of the river that fed into the ocean and to the dense jungle bordering the shore, a dark green and yellow, blobby frog croaked from in a pool of bubbling mud, then bobbled at them with its big yellow eyes. Medusa’s mane of snakes hissed in a chorus and the frog nearly keeled over dead as it scrambled back into the depths of the mud. Medusa chuckled, then shifted the baby closer to her bosom when it squirmed.

  “I’m sorry, little one,” She said. “Hang on for a little longer. We aren’t very far.”

Through the vines and under the branches she went until Medusa broke into her gardens.

It was the greenest part of all of Sarpedon, bursting with flora and fauna alike. Pillars from fallen ancient ruins dotted the area, forming ledges and small places to hide when it would rain. One of the temples was just barely still intact, though overgrown with flowers and plants. Medusa always thought it was an eyesore in the midst of all her nature, but now that she was looking at it, she thought it would make a brilliant home for a child.

  “Urrg,” She shook her head wildly, causing her snakes to hiss in shock at being jostled. “Stupid.”

She set the child down on some flowers and began to pace throughout her gardens. She tried not to listen to the whimpers and hiccups up the baby, tried not to look over at it in fear of getting too attached to something she knew she could not keep, tried to stop herself from rushing back over and scooping it into her arms once again because she felt like it belonged there.

  “What was needed to summon her again?” Medusa muttered to herself. She looked at her snakes. “Palm trees, right?”

The snakes seemed just as clueless as she was.

  “It was palm trees. But hopefully palm leaves will do because I am not cutting down an entire tree for this.”

She did, however, end up hacking off a large piece of palm back on the beach, all for something she definitely did not care about or want to keep. She forced herself to stare at the fire as she burned the husk and fronds of a palm tree. When the flames grew high enough, she took a breath and spread her wings to the sky.

  “Leto, mighty Titanides, goddess of motherhood, bearer of Artemis and Apollo, lend me your aid. Receive my call, for I need you.”

For a moment, all was silent, and Medusa almost felt embarrassed for even trying such a measly summoning, and then the fire crackled and sparked, and a body formed out from the smoke.

Medusa had forgotten just how massive the Titans were. Leto was as tall as the trees, and as sturdily built as one, too, especially for someone who was known solely for giving birth for nine days straight.

Swathed in emerald green robes that were inlaid with silver and gold weaving patterns, Leto now stood before Medusa. Her wavy brown hair floated weightlessly around her head, as if she, too, had a living, writhing mane upon her scalp. Her eyes were a deep, piercing yellow-green color, seeming to drill into Medusa. Around her neck she wore the red-brown fur of a weasel as if it were a scarf and a sun and moon pendant, most likely in remembrance of her children. When she spoke, her voice was deeper than Medusa expected, but also sounded like molten honey that was slathering gold.

  “It has been a long time since I was called upon,” The Titan rumbled. The faint golden glow around her faded and her hair was released from whatever had been suspending it in the air, causing it to flow elegantly down her shoulders. She smiled faintly down at Medusa. “I certainly did not expect it to be from you.”

Medusa flicked her tail and gathered herself up to her full size, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to measure up to Leto’s height. “I have a problem.” She said, then turned to the baby lying a few feet away and picked it up. “This.”

  “Oh my,” Leto said, peering down at the child. She delicately scooped it up when Medusa held it out to her. “A strange situation you’ve gotten yourself into, indeed.”

  “It’s not mine,” Medusa said. “A woman washed ashore. She’s--she’s dead now, but she had a child with her. That child. I don’t know what to do with it.”

  “She.”

  “What?”

Leto looked up from having unraveled the baby’s blankets and smiled softly at Medusa. “It’s a girl.”

It took everything in Medusa to keep her tail from wagging like a damn hound. A girl! She was so happy it was a girl! She didn’t think she could handle a male.

Wait-- what was she saying? She couldn’t handle either male or female. She couldn’t keep such a thing!

Leto pushed aside one of the overlapping covers of fabric on her robes and held the baby to her breast. She gave a soft laugh when the infant seemed to latch onto the nipple instantly and began to suckle greedily.

  “What a hungry little beast you have here, Medusa,” She said.

  “I already said she’s not mine.”

Leto furrowed her eyebrows at her. “You aren’t going to keep her?”

Medusa actually laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

  “I would not joke in the name of a child, Medusa.” Leto said firmly. Medusa wouldn’t lie that she was slightly intimidated by how hard her voice had become.

  “No, I’m not going to keep her, Leto.”

  “But you want to?”

  “I do not! Why would I ever want to raise such a fiend?”

  “Because you’re lonely.”

Medusa was taken aback. She coiled her tail in close around her, glaring at the dirt as if it had wronged her for bringing the child to her shore and making her feel all these stupid, conflicting emotions.

  “I am not.” She growled.

  “You’re getting defensive,” Leto pointed out.

  “Because you’re bothering me!” Medusa blustered, flaring her wings up. She turned away sharply, whacking Leto’s ankle with her tail. “Go. Take the creature with you. I don’t want to see it.”

All was quiet for a moment, and Medusa actually got the sick sensation that Leto had listened to her, but then she heard the crunching of grass beneath bare feet and saw Leto circle around to be in front of her. The Titan kneeled on her knees before her, still holding the baby to her breast. Medusa couldn’t help but glance at it several times in what she could only describe as longing.

  “Medusa, how long has it been since you’ve interacted with another person?” Leto asked. “Not counting your sisters, of course.”

Medusa refused to look at her. “Why does it matter? I can’t keep--”

  “How long,” Leto repeated with the same firm voice from before, “has it been?”

  “I don’t know.” Medusa answered through her teeth. “Forever? It’s always been my sisters, Mother, and Father. No one else.” She clenched her claws until they drove into the tender green scales on her palms. “There can be--no one else.”

Leto frowned. “And why is that?”

  “You know why.” Medusa said bitterly. “Don’t play dumb, Leto. I know the Titans are smarter than that. It doesn’t take Athena to know why I can’t be around people.”

  “I’m afraid I do understand why.”

  “So why are you even asking me this?” Medusa looked up at her, yellow eyes stinging with unbidden tears. If she had known the meeting with the Titan would be the equivalent to physical and psychological torture, she wouldn’t have even bothered in the first place.

  “Because I wanted to prove my point.” Leto said calmly. “And I was right.”

  “How?”

  “You want someone.” Leto said as if it were perfectly obvious to everyone in the entire pantheon of gods. “You’re very lonely, Medusa. It doesn’t take Athena to figure that out, either.”

  “I can’t.” Medusa whispered hoarsely.

  “You can.”

  “I can’t!” Medusa flared her wings at Leto and brandished her claws, flashing her teeth in the sun right as it began to fall from the sky, her snakes a chorus of hisses and snaps. But Leto was unfazed by her outburst.

  “I will help you.” The Titan said patiently. She smiled down at the suckling baby in her arms. “After all, I don’t expect you to be able to feed her. And she still needs a name, you know. Did the mother tell you one?”

Medusa decided to ignore Leto. Perhaps that would finally end the wrenching anguish she was feeling.

  “I like Aretha.” Leto went on, pleasantly not taking the hint Medusa was trying to give to her.

Medusa scoffed. “Aretha? Really?”

  “I thought you didn’t care about the child.” Leto said, feigning her surprise. Medusa really wished she wouldn’t grin at her like she was.

  “Nemesis is going to come curse you into the body of a cow or something if you keep exuding your hubris onto me.” Medusa said.

  “Are you all full, Aretha?” Leto said to the baby, once again ignoring Medusa. She brushed the little girl’s face with a finger. “What pretty eyes you have.”

  “Stop that.”

  “You could strike an entire army dead with those eyes.” Leto continued. She smiled down at Medusa. “Just like your mother.”

Silence.

Medusa’s throat ached with pent up sobs. “Her mother is dead.” She growled.

  “You’re her mother now.”

  “I am not!”

Medusa whipped her head away quickly so Leto wouldn’t see the tears that came slipping free without her consent. She wiped them away harshly, accidentally cutting herself with her claws in the process, but she could hardly care. It could not measure up to the pain she was feeling from this awful interaction.

  “I never should have called upon you,” She hissed.

  “But you did.” Leto said, unfazed by the insult. “And now I am here and I am going to help you with this baby, Medusa. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

There was silence once again.

  “I’m a monster, not a mother.” Medusa said, her voice wavering treacherously.

  “If that were the case, then why is the baby still alive?”

  “What?”

  “If you truly were a monster, then you would have killed the baby on the spot. And not just by turning her to stone, you would have gutted her alive with your claws, ripped her tiny little head off, devoured her insides. That is what monsters do.” Leto’s stare seemed to pin Medusa to the ground. “And you, Medusa, are not a monster.”

Medusa swallowed thickly, trying to bury the emotions welling up inside of her like a volcano.

  “What if I’m not the mother she needs?” She whispered. She felt like she was drowning. “I don’t think I can do what is needed of me.”

  “Yes, you can. And you will. You’ve been so good with all of this so far. The only thing you can do is your best.”

  “And if that isn’t enough?”

Leto looked into her eyes, her own so soft and caring, so patient even in the face of Medusa’s pessimistic attitude. “Then you’ll learn.”

Leto extended a hand and thumbed away a few fresh tears running down Medusa’s cheek. She smiled warmly at her.

  “You’ll learn,” The Titan said again, this time softer.

Neither of them said anything after that for a long few minutes. Not until the baby began to coo softly, which made both of their gazes shift down to her. Leto pulled her hand away from Medusa’s face to brush the infant’s.

  “Theodora.”

  “What?” Leto looked back at Medusa.

  “That’s going to be her name.” Medusa said. “Theodora. Teddi for short. Not Aretha.”

Leto smiled. “I knew you would come around.” She said. “Would you like to hold her?”

Medusa internally cursed herself for nodding so eagerly. However, as she extended her hands out to take the baby from Leto, she jerked back sharply, as if she had touched fire.

  “I can’t look at her,” Medusa said. “I can’t look at my…”

Leto frowned, then looked down at the wriggling infant in her arms. A soft golden glow lit up in her eyes, and the baby’s did the same, causing her to coo at the sensation of godly powers now streaming through her veins. Leto then turned and gently pushed the little girl into Medusa’s arms.

  “Leto, didn’t you hear me--”

  “Look, Medusa.” Leto said. “Trust me. It will be okay.”

Medusa stared up at the Titan, then slowly brought her gaze down to the baby.

For the first time in her entire life, the flesh of a mortal did not harden to stone beneath her claws, and she was able to see the beautiful mossy green eyes her new daughter bore.

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: you need to play your part

For @goodintentionswipfest, have 1.1k of DP fic from 2014! I can’t remember where I was going with this BUT the Prime Danny Clone deserved better.

Title comes from Nine Inch Nails’ “Copy of A.”

=

You’ve been suspended in this narrow stasis tube for months, breathing in the same chemical tang, barely capable of focusing your attention on anything happening beyond the three-inch Plexiglass panel because the supercomputer you’re wired up to has been streaming information directly into your brain. Months forcibly spent absorbing human history, the advances of modern science; all of it in no less than four languages. Months in isolation, suspended animation, your body nourished by a feeding tube and a saline drip, electricity humming through your ectoplasm so that your human half’s muscles won’t atrophy. When—if—you’re ever unplugged, pulled out of this awful tube, you will be indistinguishable from any average teenager. 

When you’re human, that is. But you’ve never been human before. You’ve never been stable enough to even risk the transformation. At least, that’s what you’ve heard the Maddie program say, a constant buzz in the back of your mind. 

prime clone stabilization at 17%

prime clone stabilization at 29%

prime clone stabilization at 43%

prime clone stabilization at 55%

prime clone stabilization at 70%

prime clone stabilization at 73%

prime clone stabilization at 79%

Those percentages ticking by, ticking up. The higher the number, the closer you are to being free.

=

Beyond your tube, shadows move. There were other clones, before you. Failures, or you wouldn’t exist. They serve Father, unwavering, even if it means complete destabilization. 

Without warning, the Maddie program pulls the data feed.

It’s like being dunked in ice water, or at least how you’ve come to understand the information of being dunked in ice water. The sound-colors-motion of the feed is all you’ve ever known, canned voices and the pixelated faces of Dad’s enemies, Dad’s victims, Dad’s singular love; the full breadth and width of the original Daniel Fenton’s life chopped up into bite-sized statistics—without all that pressure in your skull, your world is dark and terribly quiet.

The wires and tubes threaded under your skin twitch, slip out of your skin all at once, and this is your first taste of pain. You gasp, but the sound is drowned out by the noise of suction cups popping off your skin and suit, and that sound is drowned out by the depressurized hiss of the stasis tube’s door opening for the very first time.

Dad keeps his lab at a brisk 50 degrees. After months of the same sharp smell of warm ectoplasm and your own sour exhale, the fresh air burns in your nose and throat.

The first words you hear Dad say are: “Welcome to the world, young Daniel,” as he steps into your line of sight. He’s in his ghost form, tall and broad and just as menacing as the data feed promised, yet you feel no fear. He’s your father, your creator, your reason to exist. You see him, and you want to do anything—everything—for him.

But then his face changes, twists into something ugly, something disgusted. He takes a step back, looks away from you to furiously yell, “Maddie! His eyes! What’s wrong with his eyes?”

“Superficial deformities are to be expected due to genetic splicing, teddy bear,” the Maddie program says brightly.

You try to form the words, to ask what’s wrong with your eyes, to ask what she means. You have no memory of genetic splicing. You’re a perfect copy of the original Daniel—aren’t you?

Dad relaxes, bares his fangs in a shuddering smile. “Ah, yes. Yes, of course! I had forgotten the probability of that. Release him.”

Your restraints pop open, and suddenly you’re using your legs for the very first time. In your head, you know how all this works, joints and weight and gravity and all that. But the doing—well, you fall right out of your tube not two seconds after your knees began wondering what the hell was going on.

But Dad catches you, Dad and his strong, strong arms embrace you, and it’s like coming home. “Easy, easy!” he chuckles. “Don’t worry, Daniel, I’ve got you.”

You understand how to talk, but the action eludes you; only air whistles through your throat when you try to say, I love you.

=

Dad brings a mirror down to the lab when you ask for one, leans it up against a bare stretch of wall and floats out of the way so you might observe your whole self, the self beyond what your installed memories and your limited perception have provided.

“What?” Your voice is still a feathery, clumsy sound. Consonants are hard. You hate consonants kind of a lot. “My eyes?”

You remember Dad saying something, when he pulled you out of the stasis tube. He said something was wrong with your eyes, but that had been—

Well. Time is a funny thing to you still. You know it exists, you know it passes, because Dad has to leave you alone, has to leave the Maddie program to babysit while you practice basic actions your brain is convinced you have down pat but you’ve never done once in your life. A week has passed since then? Maybe? You don’t know. You don’t bother to ask. 

But your eyes. You’d hoped whatever had been different—had been wrong—with them had corrected itself by now.

But your ghost half’s eyes aren’t green. They’re red, wholly red, just like Dad’s.

“I know,” he says, swooping in like the Discovery Channel screenshots of birds of prey you have emblazoned in your head. He grips your shoulders with fingers like talons, his huge white-and-red cloak slapping your ankles. “I know. It’s a shame, isn’t it? Nearly perfect, but for the eyes. Ah well, nothing we can’t fix later, isn’t that right, my boy?”

You look at his grinning reflection, something you don’t have a name for curling unpleasantly in your gut. “Right,” you say.

=

You’re cold all the time, and that doesn’t make any sense. The original Daniel has no issues with the cold, is comfortable in subzero temperatures as long as he’s in his ghost form. Even as a human, near-freezing is barely cause to bother with a jacket. So why do you shiver at a measly 50 degrees?

You wait until Dad’s long-since phased upstairs and the Maddie program has idled, and then you waited longer, just to be sure. Finally, you shuffle up to the rear of the central server rack, where fans blow hot air in a continuous stream, and hold out your hands. Heat soaks into your skin, spreads up your arms, and you breathe a happy sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding. You knew what being warm was, but you’ve never experienced it before now, and it’s even better than you thought it would be.

But that wonderful sensation lasts only seconds, and then your gloves begin to blister before your eyes.

=

prime clone stabilization at 63%

=

Dad scolds you sharp enough to hurt nearly like a physical blow, though he doesn’t raise a hand against you. His claws dig into the rubbery skin of your burned arms, not unkindly, as he cleans and wraps the ugly green wounds