vampire au where they can only drink the blood type they were before they were turned. other blood has an almost poisonous effect, burning them from within like acid and drinking too much of it can kill them
in the old days, before the knowledge of blood types, it made humans they could feed on absolutely precious. they're kept safe, pampered and doted on; a vampire’s most prized possession
attacking another vampire's human is seen as the highest insult; not only is it a slight against them, it also carries the implication of "i want you to starve"
it's also used as the cruelest of punishments; starving a vampire for months, until they're feral with hunger just for their torturer to throw in a random human, watching them desperately suck down poison, their instincts begging them to keep drinking even as it kills them
ghost is one of the few who survived it; thrown in a pit so deep, he saw stars in the middle of the day, left with nothing but the dried bodies of the humans roba drained without care, others with their throats slit, blood he can't drink spilled out around them
a taunt of the one thing he needs but will never get
but ghost hasn't survived this long just to give up here
he refuses to die in this stinking, rotted pit
ghost is a force of nature as he descends over roba's manor; killing any who wander into his path until the halls run red. until he gets his hands on roba and tells him a secret:
vampires can feed on the blood of any vampire, regardless of blood type
it becomes a legend in vampire high society; if you starve another, you'd best make sure they actually die
otherwise you might end up piled in a dining room, the vampire you left for dead lounging on a throne of corpses with his fangs lodged in your throat
ghost decimates roba's empire, burning it to the ground until no one dares to speak his name in fear of incurring his wrath. it's incredibly taboo for a vampire to feed off another but ghost's too powerful for anyone to challenge him and the other vampires are too scared to try. scared of what he's willing to do, the lengths he'll go to; not that they'll ever admit it
soap is the first human he ever brings to court; delicately bathed in the finest silks and jewels, his throat always bare so he can show off ghost's ownership, his bite framed in lace
he's not like the delicate waifs the other vampires show off; he doesn't cling to his master, demure and submissive. he shows off his teeth as often as any vampire, fully willing to rip out the throats of any who insult him or ghost
a feral master needs a just as feral pet
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Eddie develops a strange habit after sex. It’s not exactly cute or romantic or nice. Nothing bad either. It’s just… well, Steve isn’t too sure what it is. But every time, it’s the same damn thing.
He collapses onto Steve’s chest and says:
“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”
Usually, Steve is still recovering from the fucking downpour of post-orgasm endorphins. So he doesn’t question it. Hell, he stopped challenging Eddie’s tolerance to geek out months ago. Dude holds fantasy knowledge in his brain better than he holds his liquor.
Which is saying a lot.
Anyways, Steve never has the mental capacity to react or respond. Instead, he runs his fingers through Eddie’s sweat-soaked hair for awhile. Scratches out little patterns on his scalp because it always makes Eddie go limp. Quiet.
Quiet is a rarity for him. And while Steve is totally weak for Eddie’s chattiness, the quiet can be nice too.
The only reason Steve finally decides to ask about it is because Eddie slips up. Says it before they have sex.
Steve is against the bedroom door, his nails dragging down Eddie’s back. God, he loves this kind of kissing. The lung draining kind. The type that’s sort of filthy from all the heat and grinding.
Eddie hasn’t marked him up this bad since that time someone at work noticed his neck. Asked if Steve was having an allergic reaction during an office-wide meeting.
And this is going to be even worse. Steve can tell by the sounds and the soft pricks of Eddie’s teeth. He can tell by how long Eddie spends over each spot, like the bruising skin needs more attention than the rest of him. Like licking them over will make the colors last longer.
The damage has been done. Really no point in stopping him when it feels so fucking good. Steve forgets to worry about how mauled he’s gonna look tomorrow because his head is swimming with Eddie’s lips on his neck. His collarbone. His chest.
That’s when it happens. That’s when Eddie’s strange habit makes an early appearance.
He kisses over the blistery mess he made, practically growls the words out this time:
“My boyfriend is a cyborg.”
“Okay, time out.” Steve says. Heaves some air back into his lungs. Pulls Eddie’s face up before he can continue making Steve look like goddamn target practice.
Eddie blinks a few times. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No.” Gonna have to wear fucking high-collared shirts all week, but whatever.
He’ll bring that up some other time. “Why do you keep saying that?”
“Saying what?”
“That… thing.” Steve barely can spit it out. It’s like his throat is physically rejecting the nerdy shit he’s about to say. “You keep calling me… a cyborg or something.”
“Oh that.” Eddie sighs. Casually shrugs to one side. “It’s your fault actually.”
“How is it my fault? I don’t even know what fucking language you’re speaking.”
Eddie walks over to the bed, chanting Steve’s name over and over. Definitely not in the way Steve prefers him to chant his name. Very un-sexy chanting.
“Remember that day you asked me to grab your car keys?” He asks, patting the bed for Steve to join him.
No. “Kinda?”
Steve hesitates before walking over. He didn’t necessarily wanna stop their primal makeout session. But it was bound to lead to the bed at some point, so…
Just not like this. Not talking while fully clothed. Blech.
He sits next to Eddie. Hands awkwardly fidgeting in his lap.
“Well, I couldn’t find them.” Eddie admits. “So I ended up going through your desk drawers.”
Of course he did. Perpetual snooper.
“Ended up finding a binder full of medical records.”
Well shit.
Steve’s throat tightens. Swells around the sudden guilt he feels for keeping this from Eddie.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a metal plate in your head?”
“Dunno. Hardly even remember it.” That’s only partly true. Steve doesn’t remember the surgery or much of the recovery process. He was only a kid when it happened.
But he does remember the hospital smells. He remembers the sounds of his IV bag dripping throughout the night. All the sensory indicators are still fresh in his mind.
“Well, that’s why. You're part-machine.” Eddie points to Steve’s head, expression softening. “And every time we fuck around, I think about your bionic skull. And how glad I am that it keeps your brain from leaking out when I bend you over the way you like it best.”
Steve laughs. The jokes help lighten the mood. Not enough to replace it entirely, but enough for it to be easy to swallow again.
They’re both quiet as they get ready for bed, folding the covers down. And yeah, sometimes quiet can be nice. Just maybe not right now.
“Hey, Eddie.”
“Yeah?”
Steve stares hard at the pillows. “Are cyborgs like… cool?”
Eddie pauses for a moment, then hops onto the bed. Starts crawling over to Steve with a smug grin. He lifts up to meet Steve’s lips. Kisses him sweeter than normal. Lighter. Starts nodding his head mid-kiss, keeps nodding as he breaks away.
“Yeah, babe. Cyborgs are so fucking cool.”
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"Would you look at that..." Soshiro snickers from above, his tongue darting from between his lips to wet them as he gazes down at you, his pupils blown wide, "You're a natural, aren't ya?"
You whimper at his praise, humiliating as it is, and he feels the muffled sound of it send a vibration up the length of his cock that's deep in your throat. His hand cups the side of your neck, thumb stroking along the column of sensitive skin as you sputter and drool with your lips wrapped around him. While the other gently cradles the back of your head as Soshiro stuffs himself further into your mouth — the very thing that had landed you here on your knees in the first place.
"Imagine what your fellow officers would think if they could see you right now, huh?" he rasps, his breathing slightly ragged, "Taking me like such a good girl after all that talkin' back..."
A low hum of approval follows the teasing emphasis of his words, causing your cheeks to blaze with embarrassment at how much you like it. There's mirth in Soshiro's eyes. But the way that he grins at you, so unabashedly, as he watches you flush only makes even more heat pervade throughout your body. Though this time it comes in the form of arousal pooling hotly between your thighs as he continues to thrust forward lazily. You try to squeeze them together discreetly, a feeble attempt to suppress the growing need with even a little bit of friction, but he's too perceptive. He catches the movement immediately.
"You love this, don't ya? Letting your vice-captain use your pretty mouth like this?" Soshiro provokes, smiling wickedly as he pants, his fingers curling into your hair with a soft tug to tilt your head to force your gaze on him, "Say it."
You nearly choke in response to his compliment, spit bubbling out and dripping down his shaft and your chin as his question leaves your aching pussy clenching around nothing. Soshiro chuckles breathily at the sight, amusement sparking in his eyes. Needing air, your inhale causes you to slurp lewdly before he's pulling his hips back with a hiss and a hand gripped firmly at the base of his length. He taps the sticky tip of his cock against your tongue, smearing the mess of your saliva and his precum along your bottom lip, his chest heaving with shallow breaths as he waits expectantly.
"S-Sir... Soshiro—" you gasp softly, quick to correct yourself as you blink up at him, hoping for some respite as you nod imperceptibly, "You know I do..." comes your flustered admission after a pause, shame mixing with the desire that simmers white-hot in your gut.
Soshiro grins, satisfied by your compliance and the way that your cheeks redden under his attention. He gives his cock a few languid pumps with his fist, his grip tightening slightly in your hair before guiding it back into your mouth. Your eyes well up as he works it in again, a needy whine escaping your throat as he pushes until the head nudges against the back of it, making him groan in pleasure as the wet heat envelopes him once more. But Soshiro only takes delight in it.
"Oh, don't cry, sweetheart," he taunts with a click of his tongue, smirking as he uses his thumb to brush a stray tear from rolling down your cheek, "This is nothin'. Much better than a couple hundred push-ups, don't ya think?"
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