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planetdream · 24 days

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AN EVENING IN THE WOODS !

CHARACTERS ! werewolf!bang chan, human!reader

GENRE ! horror/thriller but barely, smut [minors dni]

WORDS ! 3.3k

SYNOPSIS ! on a drunken game night, you're dared to take a little stroll through the woods after rumors of a werewolf lurking through the town.

THIS FIC CONTAINS ! more thriller than horror i think. mentions of alcohol. being chased/stalked; mentions of being 'kept'. reader desc. wearing long skirt + called 'good girl'. smut [dubcon(?)—reader is basically being used. d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. possessiveness. [rough] sex in the woods. monsterfucking ig. large cock channie <3. pussy eating. facefucking. cumplay + creampie. belly bulge oops. dumbification(?) growling..] used the word 'beast' a lot oops. it gets weird idk

💌 ngl...i think i forgot how to write smut u guys... this is partially inspired by a brief part in house of leaves by mark z. danielewski, but like, not really at all iykyk. anyway, as u kno, i always appreciate feedback <3

There’s a big difference between vampire hunters and werewolf hunters. The creatures are different from each other in both ferocity and nature; thus, the study and hunt of them will differ based on several factors. Hunters of said creatures are expected to know what to do in situations in which they are faced with such foul beasts. You, quite frankly, are neither a vampire nor a werewolf hunter. Inexperienced to the point where you couldn’t begin to imagine what you would do if faced with anything that is such a monstrous terror, let alone a werewolf. Yet, here you are, prancing around the cold forest like a delicious piece of meat, praying that you don’t cross paths with anything—man or beast.

About a month ago, men and women alike began disappearing from town in the late hours of the night, not to be seen or heard from again. In the following weeks, numbers of missing people have only risen, leading many to believe that there might be a serial killer on the loose. That, however, was only until word got around that a town drunkard had seen what he could only describe as a ‘terrifyingly large rabid dog’. ‘It had to be about six feet tall just standing there’, he said, swearing solemnly, even vowing to quit drinking in an effort to portray his seriousness. The man wept, “It was one of them werewolves. I swear by it.”

Only from there did word travel through the town. Though, no one believed the drunk old man, laughing at his testimony—‘A werewolf? In this town? That’s impossible’—some treating it as some fable, or a game, even. Which is what leads to you, alone, in the woods tonight. A fun game of truth or dare with your friends—being a chronic truth picker, tonight (with a little liquid courage) you decide that you want nothing but to humor your associates, you chose dare—turns into you blindly making your way into the dark forest with nothing but a lamp, pocket knife, and a few neon stickers to help you make your way back; and that’s only if you’re not murdered.

By the looks of it, the surrounding forest is empty. The only sounds come from the rustling of tree leaves mingling together due to the wind, the sounds of birds squawking in the far distance, and the snapping and crunching of twigs and leaves beneath your shoes. You trek your way through the trees and dirt extremely unnerved. Nothing has happened at all, and although you’re thankfully still alive and breathing, making your way through the clutter of trees and dead wood, you cannot help but be a bit frightened about the dreariness and uncertainty of the situation.

It’s a cold night, predicted to snow a bit; temperature dropping lower and lower with each hour that falls. The sun had set a while ago and the purple-orange hue leftover has now faded from blue into black. And while the stars are beginning to show themselves—pristine and beautiful—the dark sky only adds to the dreariness of your walk through the forest. The sudden additional silence is eerie, nature has stilled completely. Although the echo of stillness is inexplicable, unusual; it comforts you—knowing that you would hear your assailant coming, should you come close to being attacked.

When looking at your watch, you find that you’ve only been in the forest for fifteen of the required thirty minutes—it’s very possible that you can go the distance, turning on your heels and deciding to make your fifteen minute walk back to the edge of the dark forest; and most importantly, to safety. After all, your friends must be worried about you by now; maybe even surprised that you’ve really stuck to the dare. In a matter of minutes, this will be all over and you will be resting at home.

You had to have been walking in one straight direction, right? Maybe because it’s dark, and you, admittedly, have drunk quite a bit, but the placemarkers you remember sticking to the trees along your path are nowhere to be found. The light of your lamp shines against tree after tree, but they remain in their natural state, unchanged. Your eyes widen, heartbeat increasing as you look at the leftover placemarkers you hold in your hand, only six remaining of your original twenty—so you know you’ve used them.

You stop in your tracks, not willing to venture any further than you already have. Mind racing, scanning and assessing all the possible things you can do, slowly slipping into a panic. You could scream as loud as you can, vocally expressing your need for rescue; but how likely is it that you’ll be heard, especially given how deep into this unchanging landscape you are. Perhaps you can continue walking ahead, only praying that you make your way out unharmed—after all, safety should have been just a fifteen minute walk ahead.

As you lift your foot a few centimeters off of the ground to make your first step, through the darkness of the forest and out of your peripherals, you swear you see a large shadow for just a split second—lurched over and next to a thick tree to your right. A chill runs down your spine and you shudder as you realize the presence of this creature; intimidating and dominant. Taking no chances, feet hitting the ground hard as you sprint through the woods, doing your best to escape this nightmare; real or otherwise.

The action of running when you feel like you’re being chased, versus running because you are being chased, are quite similar. It’s all instinct, a gut feeling that you jump on, increased heart rate; it’s choosing to flee rather than to fight. The difference, in this moment, you realize, is the definite risk of getting caught. The consequences could prove to be unsatisfactory, at the very least, if you were to be caught by whatever it is that may be following after you. Although, looking behind, there’s nothing in sight—no sign of disaster nor danger. You continue along, albeit a lot slower than before, attempting to catch your breath a bit. Walking off trail just a bit to slow down and assess your next course of action.

The snapping of a twig within your vicinity has you darting from the temporary hiding place. However, the predator is right on your trail, persisting in its hunt for flesh. You weave your way through the woods, brain firing off about escaping quickly without harm. The chase does not last long, though. One misstep taking you down, tumbling. Briefly, in your panic, you appear to meet eyes with the foul beast. Fear lodged in your throat, dry and brittle—crumbling into tiny little pieces that pester your insides like a million tiny beetles finding a dark, cavernous home. Stomach clenching, seizing as you cower in submission to your terror. Hands buried into the freshly fallen snow—previous footsteps already blanketed over and long gone. Never have you thought you would give up so easily; unsure if you’ve got it within you to fight back in the absolute worst case.

Body stuck in place, paralyzed with fear once you hear the snow behind you crunch, a sign that the creature is inching closer to you. It’s like your life flashes before your eyes once you feel the snout of the creature pressed against the back of your neck, heat blowing against the back of your neck, followed by a short, deep snarl emitting from within the beast. The large presence behind you is undeniable. The way the creature towers over you is horrifying—a domineering and overbearing sense of power, exuding pride and strength in the form of body heat. It circles you, though you are too terrified to look towards it, despite the daring growl it emits. Heart racing, nearly about to jump out of your chest and run away itself. The creature begins to circle around you, and out of the corner of your eye you can see its feet—huge black paws. Oh great! You’ll be eaten alive.

But then the feet of the beast turns into man, and slowly you raise your face to get a good look at its true face. He starts off as a blur initially, but the longer you look at him, the more recognizable he becomes. A face you’ve always seen lurking around town. Though despite the area being rather small, you’ve never formally interacted—only stared at each other from a distance then kept it moving. Tonight, however, you finally decided to walk up to him at the local bar whilst with friends, only for him to walk away without a word. ‘Oh, him? Yeah, Chan is just like that.’

“Mmm. What’s that smell?” Chan asks while humming. Arms caging you in against the tree as he presses his nose against your neck, right near a particularly sweet spot. “Smells heavenly. So sweet and delicious.”

He continues to sniff you out, planting a small kiss to your neck before traveling lower, nose now pressed to the fabric of your clothing. Face pressed in between the valley of your breast, Chan takes a long, deep inhale. His eyes are closed as he pulls back, slightly smirking with clear contentment. Chan takes the material of your shirt pinched between his fingertips before tearing the shirt down the middle, groaning at your now exposed chest. His hands cup your tits, thumbs teasing at your nipples, as he runs his nose down the valley, before swiping back up with his tongue.

Chan isn’t done, nose still pressed against your skin as he sinks down to his knees. Rough hands cupping your ass, squeezing, as he stops—nose pressed against your mound, breathing you in while trying to pull you closer, finally finding the source of that sweet, heavenly scent. He’s breathing heavily to the point that you can feel his hot breath against your skin through the thin material of your skirt; snarling as he takes in your scent. And he’s mumbling something down there—pussy hungry words about how fucking delectable you smell. Perfect to devour.

Contrary to the petrifying circumstance, the rush of adrenaline you get in the moment is euphoric and exhilarating. Chan’s touch is hot against you, almost scorching, and leaves you wanting—no, needing more of him.

He hikes up the long length of your skirt with ease, throwing your leg over his shoulder to force your hips towards his face, diving face first into your cunt. Tongue lapping up hungrily at your wetness, moaning and groaning without a care in the world as he gets the first taste of his meal. Plump lips sucking your clit, vibrating when he moans, causing you to shake and squirm, but Chan has a strong grip against you. He’s messy as he eats you—occasionally breaking free, not for air, but to spit against your cunt—as the lower half of his face is covered in your nectar; which he hopes never washes off, absolutely frenzied by your scent, cock hard and leaking cum, jumping at the thought of finally getting to fuck his cock into this sweet little cunt.

While Chan is usually a patient man, having no problem in waiting—stalking his prey and then teasing them for hours upon hours on end—he finds himself struck with need. A particular need to feast. To fuck and destroy his prey. Days and days of stalking you, taunting you from afar, and you played right into his palm—obviously fated to be found afraid and lost, deep in his territory. It is at this point he thinks to keep you. Perhaps hide you away somewhere cold and dark where only he’d be able to find you. Keeping you bound to him until he gets sick of you—or until you cease to exist. Aching to fuck you over and over and over again until it becomes too difficult for you to even think about moving a muscle, succumbing fully to his torturous pleasure. He stops himself from thinking too far ahead all too soon, clearly entranced by the sweetness of your cunt.

Chan springs to his feet; cock heavy, hard and curving to the right, tip swelling red with need and dripping with precum. Your eyes are glued to his cock as you watch him massage his right hand over it; even in his big palms his cock is huge. The excitement to take him spreads from the pit of your stomach and up your chest, visualizing into the form of goosebumps all over your arms. He just laughs at the look on your face; how equally intrigued and dismayed you appear. A perfect little lamb stalked and caught by the big bad wolf, unable to flee due to their own fascination despite their fright.

Chan leans in, his lips against yours briefly. A hand curling into your hair to bring you down to your knees, you follow suit. His hand stays tangled in your hair, pulling harshly against your scalp. With his other hand, Chan strokes his cock, running his thumb over the tip; then pulling your head towards his tip. Eagerly, your tongue slips from your mouth, ready to taste everything he’s giving you. You swirl your tongue around him, but Chan has other plans, slowly sliding his cock into your mouth; helping you savor the slightly salty taste of his seed. Fixing your mouth open as wide as it can go, with both hands now tangled into your hair, he thrusts his cock in and out of your mouth, slowly increasing the speed of his thrust.

“You just take it like a good girl, huh?” You don’t say anything, but that dazed look in your eye and the moan that escapes from deep in your throat tells Chan all he needs to know.

“Perfect little mouth, but I bet that pussy is even better.” Chan frees his cock from your mouth with a trail of spit. His hand around his cock once again, the slick sound like music to your ears. Though, it’s at this point that the cold air is starting to get to you—the snow is light but still continuous—yet you power through it for just another taste of Chan.

“Want you so bad,” You bite your lip, looking into his eyes, eyebrows furrowed together. You stand and stretch to turn your back to him, looking over your shoulder as you wiggle your backside towards him like a bitch in heat. Chan smirks at you, a small laugh erupting from him at the sight of your shamelessness.

In the heat of the moment, Chan licks the palm of his hand before bringing it down to rub at your cunt from behind. He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear a long, deep snarl come from within his chest. The closer he gets to you, the louder the growl echoes, and the more he warms you with his body heat—caging you in against the tree. You grind into his hand, greedily taking anything he gives you. While Chan is steadily becoming just as impatient as you, he always spares time to play with his food; teasing the tip of his cock against your slit. Chan slowly slides into your cunt—a rough hand clenching onto your hip, nails digging into your skin; not nearly enough to keep him from losing his cool as your wetness encases his cock, wet and tight.

You’re barely taking half of his dick before the stretch of it nearly becomes too much—but he’s one step ahead of you; arm snakes across your belly and down to your cunt, two wet fingers ready to play with your clit. Chan works his fingers against your clit slowly winding you up, all while planting a quick kiss against your shoulder; tongue drooling out to lick a long wet stripe against your neck. It’s only once he receives a moan from you in response that he starts thrusting into you slowly; the thrusts of his hips syncing with the movement of his fingers.

It isn’t long before you’re taking more and more of his cock, being stuffed and stretched deliciously. Cunt leaking and begging for more of him. Chan lets out these harsh growls and grunts that contrast with the pitch of your moans. His nails dig into your hips, using a minimal amount of strength to pull your hips back against him, making you meet his thrusts. His hips smack against your ass roughly, cock stretching you further, but your cunt swallows every inch perfectly. That’s only until he slides out of you, wordless, yet, still letting out a snarl. He pushes you onto the ground, hands and knees crashing into the new layers of snow. You yelp out in response, but Chan can only laugh at you.

“Just letting me push you around like this? I think I should keep you,” He follows you, kneeling onto the ground, cock in hand. Laying a quick smack at your ass, he hums. “How would you feel about being my little plaything, huh?”

His free hand kneads against your ass while he plays with his cock. “Keep you locked up with me ‘n only let you out in these woods at night, hmm? All cute ‘n naked for me to hunt down and fuck again.”

“And you can’t even hide cause I’ll always find you, pretty.” He finally slides into your cunt, still not letting you have all of him, yet. “How does that sound? Do you like it?”

His words are filthy and so are his touches but somehow he’s got you entranced. You let out a loud, cracked sob of a yes in response to his inquiries as if he bullied it out of you. “Good girl.”

Chan finally allows himself to break—hips snapping harshly into yours. Not caring if you go limp from the way he’s fucking into you, instead his hands are once again clenching your hips, grinding his hips against your ass whenever he thrusts his cock back into you. Your fists clutching onto the snow as you take his cock, unable to do much but drool and mewl for him.

He presses his chest across your back, caging you onto the cold ground. His tongue once again flat against your skin, licking every inch of what exposed skin he has access to. Still pounding into you as he chases his impending orgasm. Then he sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder, letting out a whine rather than the usual growl as he fucks his cum into you. It’s hot, sticky, and heavy—and it seems like it’s unending; seemingly producing more and more as he pumps his cock into you. Slowly Chan reaches a hand down to press against your lower abdomen; feeling how your belly swells with all the cum his cock is feeding your cunt.

You moan at the feeling when Chan pulls out of you with a sigh of exhaust. Cum coating his cock and spilling out of your cunt, staining your thighs. So much of his seed has spilled out and he’s no longer stuffing you with his cock, but yet you feel so full. Chan continues to incite, two thick fingers dip into your cunt to scoop up and play with the excess cum that’s dripping from your hole.

Chan pulls you back to him by your arms, caging you against his chest. He whispers to you. “What if we played a fun little game, hm?”

He grips your chin and those same two digits that were once inside of you, force into your mouth, offering you another taste of Chan’s cum. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice, “Let’s say, I give you a ten second head start to run.”

Chan kisses the back of your neck and a chill runs down your spine. “The ten seconds start now.”

He frees you from his hold, and springs to his feet leaving you dumbfounded. But by the time you stand and face the direction of Chan, legs weak and cold, he’s no longer there.

It seems his fun little game has officially started.

#🌑 — vivid dreams #🌑 — vividdream.skz #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #skz smut #bang chan x reader

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irritablepoe · 8 months

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A Ship For The Two Of Us (Bram x Lovecraft)

FIRST OF ALL: this fic was inspired by @lee-apolla's fanart (link1; link2 link3) (you inspired me fr)

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Behold, i did it!!! :D

fyi this fic will contain horror elements; there's only implied smut y'all, and otherwise some very sweet devouring humans together (i think this counts as fluff for them lmao). Also i made both of them more "alive" and talkative, so maybe it's kinda ooc? but honestly i think it could be in-character, considering that this is pre-canon and they're both free from responsiblities or even a sword or a stake in their torso lmao (this could be kinda canon-compliant too tbh, idk how old bram and lovecraft really are or how much time there is between bram becoming a vampire and his beheading). I used they/them pronouns for lovecraft

some more cw:

blood (so much blood);

lovecraft-typical body horror ig;

corpses and implied eating of them (is this cannibalism if lovecraft isn't human???)

Enjoy! :3

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Bram licked over his teeth. It would barely make a difference. His body was covered in blood anyway; his clothes dripping wet with the delicious liquid. Most of it now filled Bram, making him all warm and dizzy. He looked around himself. It was ironic that the corpses to his feet were the only thing that could make him feel alive. They made up most of the floor and there was barely room to place your feet.

He breathed deeply. Not one minute ago the air had been filled by screams of agony. Now it was silent and Bram chose to thoroughly enjoy it. The only sound that reached his ears was the creaking of soaked wood from the ship; just like the slowly calming waves against the hull.

A dangerous smile split his lips as he heard something else. A slow thud against the ship that caused it to waver. Water foamed at the edges and threatened to wash over the deck. It sounded like a polite knock. Like someone was asking to be let in.

Bram waited until the thudding calmed down and then made his way to the railing. He looked into the dark water and saw a shadow floating right beneath the surface.

“Do not be so timid, I do bite but I’m sure it’ll do you no long-term harm.”, he spoke.

The surface broke and a purple mass ascended from the depths of the ocean. Slowly, it warped into a body, a face, arms and legs, and at last hands and feet. A human form for something that was the farthest thing from anything human.

Bram wasn’t scared. He was intrigued. Had been for some time, in fact.

He himself was not human. Of course, he looked close to one but this made him into an even more dangerous hunter among lowly mortals. Hid him from suspicion. While it didn’t bother him most of the time, it amused him now that Lovecraft stood in front of him.

That they met each other seemed to him a lucky coincidence. It wasn’t rare that one met another ability user these days. The world was so much more connected now that telegraphs and so many ships that cross the ocean exist. But Lovecraft was different. They seemed so alien, so different from anything that Bram had ever seen before. And he had seen a lot. He was old. Lovecraft, though, seemed even older.

“Good evening.”, a deep voice cut through the dark.

“Indeed, it is a pleasant night, my dearest.”, Bram said, straightening his back. His gaze wandered to the useless corpses and pride filled his being.

Lovecraft followed his glance and squinted. “They’re all dead?”

“Quite right. Due to your irregular visits, I chose to enjoy myself. I hope you’ll excuse me for not keeping one of them alive for you for I didn't know you would show up.”

Lovecraft licked their lips. “I don’t need them to be alive.”

Bram let out a small laugh. “Well, in that case I’ve prepared you an entire feast!”

They looked at Bram like they were dying of starvation. The need, the pure desperation, in their eyes sent a shock through Bram’s core. “Would you mind if I ate first?”

He let out a shaky breath. “Quite the opposite.”

He chose to turn around. Just once he had caught a glimpse of Lovecraft eating their enemies and that had been the moment Bram realized, who he was dealing with. It had almost broken his mind when he saw the mouth that hadn’t been a mouth, with teeth that had been beyond what anyone would call teeth. To this day he was shaking from this experience - if of terror or something else he didn't know. But it was enough for five or even more lifetimes. He would see soon enough though for he was immortal.

Lovecraft ate silently. If you could even call it that. Devouring was the closest word that Bram knew of that could describe what exactly they were doing.

Bram watched the moon as it revealed itself through the thick storm clouds bit by bit. The gaps in them eventually showed stars shining alongside the moon, trying to imitate it. Bram loved the darkness, though he couldn’t bring himself to hate the pale light that caressed his face. Sometimes he wished he could drink the moonlight. Fill it into a bottle and let it cool his sore throat when he was thirsty. Maybe it would cure his everlasting exhaustion and melancholy when he wasn’t freshly filled by blood.

He had been so lost in thought that he startled when long arms wrapped around his torso. Shortly after, a face snuggled into his back, an even longer tongue licked at his nape.

“Did you enjoy yourself, my darling?”, Bram asked.

“A bit too much. You already did a great job emptying them of their blood. Didn’t make much of a mess.”, Lovecraft said.

“I’m happy to be of service.”

“You’re so kind to me.”

He quirked up his eyebrows. “Oh?”

Lovecraft placed a kiss on his neck. “Yes.”

“I do not think even the politest gentleman would ever describe me as ‘kind’. I fear you’re wildly misinformed.”

“Misinformed or proven otherwise?”

“Ah, I see. Well, I have to say that gentlemen normally wouldn’t appreciate a meal made of raw human flesh. In that case, I’ll take my words back and say that you, my dear, have the most compatible needs to my providing abilities.”

“I like that word. Compatible.”

Bram took Lovecraft’s unusual long hands into his own and leaned back. He wanted to be closer to the non-human. So unbearably closer. “I like it, too.”

A while they enjoyed the shared silence. Every now and then Lovecraft kissed his face, his temples, his neck – whatever they could reach. Bram turned his face to receive the long-awaited kisses more eagerly.

“You reek of blood.”, they said eventually.

“Is that a problem?”

“No.” Lovecraft smiled crookedly. “But I still wish to fix something about your clothes.”

“We have the ship all to ourselves. Though I fear we will sink soon, if we don’t do something about the… lack of staff.”

“I’ll bring you to shore as soon as we’re done here.”

“Is that a promise or a threat? Or perhaps a smug deal you’re offering?”, Bram asked and smiled.

“More of a hopeful suggestion.”

“I love you.”, Bram said and felt in his heart a swell of emotions, that maybe this world wasn’t as doomed and boring as he had thought. Just because Lovecraft was in it. He laughed quietly at himself. He really was in love and he wished to continue to love. They both had all the time in the world. They had no rush. He had become a vampire, but only now did he realize that this didn’t mean the end of his life and capability to feel.

“I love you, too.”

“Take me wherever and however you like and I’ll happily obey.”, Bram answered, excitement rushing through his veins.

“Gladly.”

Lovecraft tightened their embrace and took him into their arms.

Bram let out a hearty laugh. “Carrying me over the threshold of the cabins like a bride, are you?”

“Yes. You’re mine after all. And I want you to have a comfortable bed.”

Bram hummed happily.

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i'll just tag some of y'all bc you seemed interested/asked me to tag you: @vestaldestroyer @daz4i @ice-devourer - i hope this is good hehe :3

will post it to ao3 too (link)

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd bram #bsd lovecraft #bramcraft #bram x lovecraft #bsd fanfic #tell me if there are any mistakes :3 #and pls don't slaughter me for writing them ooc this was very hard for them okay T - T #tbh i'm kinda sad that i didn't make them bite each other but maybe for a next fanfic *bows like an actor and exits waving to the audience*

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penny00dreadful · 1 year

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Well hi!

I'm a Steddie writer and artist, maybe with a few hints of Buckingham thrown in, that's primarily what you will find here.

I've been writing since the trenches of fanfiction.net.

My personal headcanon for these boys is they're kicking names and taking ass and they're all out of milk.

Artworks, podfics and translations welcome, just let me know cus I wanna see! 😊

1 Year Anniversary Post

Redbubble

Blood of the Covenant (AO3) - Eddie is an evil vampire for a little bit.

First Impressions (AO3) - Pride and Prejudice AU

Somebody To Love (Tumblr/AO3) - Personal Assistant Steve/Rockstar Eddie

Return of The King (Tumblr/AO3) - Steddie Vampire AU with a twist!

Comeuppance (Tumblr/AO3) - Dustin tries to parent-trap Stancy. It does not go according to plan.

Fettuccini (smut) (Tumblr/AO3) - Steve tells Eddie he's not allowed to cum for the entire month of November.

And They Were Roommates! - (Tumblr/AO3/Fic Art) - Enemies to lovers roomates AU

Cat and Mouse (Tumblr/AO3) - Rookie Mistake prequel fic. Spy AU, enemies to lovers, getting together.

Safety (Tumblr/AO3)- Robin is being followed and jumps into a group of metalheads to try and find safety.

Dish the Dish, Bish! (Tumblr)- Steve and Robin communicate badly about their respective crushes.

Crossroads (Tumblr/AO3)- Reincarnation AU. Beautiful cover art by @subbaculture

Like Ice (Tumblr) - Devil Wears Prada AU

To Find A Family - (Tumblr/AO3) - Anastasia AU

Before He Cheats - (Tumblr/AO3) - Eddie finds out his partner has been cheating on him when some guy named Steve calls.

The Parting Glass - (Tumblr/AO3) - Eddie is in mourning and moves back to Hawkins

Pink is My Signature Colour - (Tumblr) - Buckingham Legally Blonde AU

I'll Tell You My Sins and You Can Sharpen Your Knife - (Tumblr/AO3) - Songfic based off Take Me To Church

Love Is What Makes You Brave - (Tumblr/AO3) - Eddie found out Steve is getting married and is now idling in the church parking lot.

Rookie Mistake - (Tumblr/AO3) - Spies AU. Kidnapping. Murder husbands.

Hawkins Haunted House (AO3) - Steve gets roped into being a scare actor by Robin.

Family Commitments (AO3) - Eddie and Robin crash a family wedding Steve has to go to.

37 Years To The Day (Tumblr/AO3) - Steddie Time Travel

Please Don't Tell Steve!

Steddie First Kiss Writing Game

High Bitch King Steve

Friends Roasting Friends On Live

Fat Bottomed Girls

#penny ficlet

"Hey! That's mine!"

Drunk Talk

Star

"I can explain!"

Missed Mistletoe

Waking Up

Chill/Give In

I Couldn't Lose You

#stwgdailyprompt

#wip excerpts

The Princess Bride Art

Twilight AU Art

Times Like These Art

Valentines Day Art

Pin Up Steve

D&D AU

Selkie Steddie

Buckingham Art

Steve Harrington: Vampire Hunter

Sub Eddie Week

#penny art

#penny00dreadful #penny ask #personal #poll #penny ficlet #penny wips #stwgdailyprompt #penny art

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jvngkook97 · 2 years

Note

could you do a jk vampire fic where the reader’s family are vampire hunters?

possible back story where the reader doesn’t want to participate in the hunting activities, but one day she finds jk in their basements and chooses to go against her family to save him?

In the Dead of Night

synopsis; in which you come from a family of vampire hunters, but refuse to partake in family affairs, especially when it involves a random - but inhumanely beautiful male specimen that's currently locked down inside a cell in your basement. OR what's more important? family values, or moral?

pairing; vampire!jungkook x vampire hunter!reader

genre; angst, fluff, humor, vampire au, vampire hunter au

warnings; one curse word, elude to torture, moment of mind control, seductive VAMPIRE koo, idk man just a lot of sexual tension and talk of nipples but no smut (sorry kiddos maybe next time), disappointed parental units

rating; 18+

w/c; 1,987

a/n; love, love, LOVE the idea anon!! thank you so much for the inspiration to this lil drabble. like + reblog if you enjoyed. don't be a silent reader! <3 feedback helps keep this writer motivated to continue to put out more content - like this! all the love, always.

The training started when you were a little girl.

The rebellion started when you turned 18.

The betrayal occurred when you turned 25.

You lie on your stomach, headphones over your ears, and feet crossed behind you in the air as you bob your head to the loud music. Mouthing the words to your favorite song, you idly scroll through Tumblr until the reflection of headlights flash across your open window. Your eyes flicker to the curtains that gently sway in the nighttime breeze as you lower your headphones to rest around your neck. By the time you do, do you hear the loud 'SLAM' of the metal doors that lead down to your basement from the outside entrance.

Your parent's were back from their 'vacation' as they liked to tell those around you who weren't aware of the family business your lineage was unfortunately a part of - vampire hunting. This only ever meant one thing, that there was going to be a guest.

A vampire guest.

You purse your lips, your heart plummeting into the depths of your stomach as you think about the torture they're about to put your undead guest through. It made you sick. They made you sick. You're not sure what coursed through your veins that night, but something within your soul screamed at you to help this poor, unfortunate soul - if they had one, that is. Trivial matters.

But, you had to be patient. You had to wait for the exact right moment to make your move. When your parents went to bed.

You only hoped your vampire captive wasn't fine dust on the floor by the time you're able to get down there.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

Your eyes feel like weights as they droop halfway closed, only to snap open a second later when you hear the shuffling of two pairs of feet walk by your door, accompanied by two shadows that you see from the crack underneath your closed door. You wait with bated breath for the last sign of your parent's closing in for the rest of the night that comes in a few short minutes. It was a unique sign, as it pertains to your father and his traumatic upbringing - the sound of white noise.

Yes, your father refused to sleep unless it was on. Due to the thin walls, and your room being connected to theirs, you hear the muffled, light hum of the machine easily.

It was time.

Inching your body slowly off your creaky bed, your bare feet hit the cool hardwood floors and your entire body erupts with goosebumps. Standing up, you make sure to grab the flashlight that you keep on your nightstand for the occasional blackouts that occur at the middle of nowhere location of your home. Turning on the flashlight, the first object that becomes illuminated is that of your favorite bunny slippers. The floppy ears and beady, black knitted eyes stare at you blankly and you make quick work of securing them onto your cold feet before slowly opening your door.

Head peeking out, you look both ways down the hall before resuming your stealthy, silent walk down the long hall and to the basement door. The keys hung innocently on the decorative key hanger that held the corny and ironic quote of ‘what I love most about my home, is who I share it with’. It takes everything in your power every time you walk by it, not to roll your eyes at the double meaning behind it.

Clenching them in your hands tightly, you prevent them from jingling unnecessarily as you slide the neck of the key into the fitted lock with ease, turning until you hear the ‘click’ of the lock to signal it’s release of restraint. Turning the knob ever so gently, you push open the basement door and stare down the steps that are shrouded in darkness. If you didn’t know any better, they looked as if they led to nothing, but you knew better.

Silently, you shut the door behind you, causing what little light you had left from the moon to cease and leave you in a pit of darkness, if it weren’t for your handy dandy flashlight to help you make your way safely down the stairs. Once your feet hit the hard concrete, do you hear the rattle of a thick chain in the distance.

You direct your circle of light at the noise and come across a pair of shackled wrists that rest atop a pair of what looks like black, leather pants, the cuffs of the sleeves housing large frills. You drag the light up the arms connected to them that are covered in a white, long, flowy, 1800s bishop style sleeve to a laced up, v neck opened front that reveals the perfect amount of finely toned chest. The shirt looks so thin and sheer, your light alone lets you bare witness to the start of one of the male’s nipples.

It’s a damn good thing that it’s dark, so the male can’t see how flushed your face is.

Diverting the light away from his chest, do you finally come to your end destination, his face. He immediately raises his shackled hands to his face to block the light, a light hiss reverberates throughout the darkness that has you whispering out a empathetic ‘sorry’, before moving the blinding light to the wall next to him. The new position being enough to illuminate his face without making him uncomfortable.

“What are you doing down here, hunter?”

His voice is flat, daring. The word hunter makes you flinch. He notices.

“I’m here to help you.”

You try your best to sound confident, though your voice shakes at being this close to a vampire. He raises a lone brow at your statement. His shoulders bounce at the bubble of laughter that erupts out of his mouth.

You shush him, arms waving in front of you in a silent gesture for him to be quiet. His laughter subsides as he gives you a sneer. He doesn’t believe you.

“Right. You’re going to save me. Let’s say I believe you, which I don’t.” He gives you a pointed stare before continuing. “Why would a hunter save a vampire? Isn’t that the opposite of what you should be doing?”

“I’m not a hunter. I just belong to a family of them.”

This time you’re stern with your words, he ‘hmms’ in amusement. Sitting up straighter against the wall, he uses it to push his body weight up into a standing position. He saunters up to the thick, barred, walls of the cell he’s in until he’s a few feet away from them.

“Come here.”

His gaze is piercing, deep. You can’t help but feel a pull as your feet move of their own accord to stand directly opposite him. Only once you’re within an approving distance, does the feeling fade and you blink your eyes in confusion at your new placement.

“Did you just use mind control on me?”

“You’re paranoid.” His tone is light and airy, suave. He curls his long, slender fingers around the curve of the bars and leans his forehead in between them to get a good look at your figure. You’re wearing an oversized t-shirt, pajama shorts that barely peak out from beneath the bottom of the shirt when you shift your feet nervously every few minutes it seems, the floppy ears of your bunny slippers moving every time you do.

“Nice slippers.”

“Thanks, I know. Nice nipples.”

Your eyes widen at the words that seemingly came out of left field, as you try your damndest to backtrack on your mistake. He just smirks at the compliment, and thinks you’re cute when you’re flustered.

“I bet yours are nice as well.”

You choke on air. He flashes a fanged smile that’s filled with mischief.

“You know what? Never mind. I’m out of here.”

Not wanting to take anymore embarrassment, you attempt to flee, but a hand on your wrist prevents you from doing so. The pull is so strong, your back bounces off the bar lightly to then lean against it, as he slides his fingers through the bars to lightly drag a fingertip down the side of your neck. Your pulse quickens.

“I’d ask if you were scared, but I can smell the arousal coming off of you in waves. Are you into this, human?”

His breath fans the shell of your ear, and you have to take a deep breath in and out in order to keep your nerves in check. You can’t let him get to you, that’s what he wants. What he craves. You’re certain.

You twist yourself out of his grip, and by the time you see him next he’s right in front of your shocked face.

Outside of the cell. Free.

He dangles the set of keys in front of your face with feigned disappointment, one lone finger waving at you admonishingly.

“Tut tut, dear human–,”

“Y/N.”

He raises one lone brow in acknowledgment before saying your name slowly, almost sensually. You hate how much you love the way it comes out of his mouth, if only it were under different circumstances.

He saunters up to you with confidence in each lithe step until his chest is flush with yours, his lips brush the tip of your nose from the slight height difference he has over you, a fanged smirk on his sinfully handsome face.

Not once do his eyes leave yours as he grabs one of your hands to turn it palm up between your bodies, he drags a lone finger across your open palm, bringing it up to his lips to leave a kiss at your pulse point on your wrist. Your pulse is loud in his ears, vibrates rhythmically against his parted lips to the point you can feel a slight poke from a fang. He closes his eyes to relish it for a moment, then they flash back open and he steps away from you.

A weighted object is left in your hand, the keys. He must’ve taken them when your back was to him.

“I’ll be taking my leave now. It was nice meeting you–,” you blink once, and he’s gone. His voice calls from behind your back. You turn to see him lifting the heavy metal bunker style door that leads out into the cool night air with ease.

“My dear, y/n. Till we meet again.”

He places two fingers to his temple in a mock salute, gives a sultry wink accompanied by a devilish smirk, and when you blink again he’s gone. The metal door is left swinging open from the strong, night winds that carry a hypnotic voice along with it that caresses your ears euphorically.

“Adieu.”

A light from the top of the stairs of the basement half illuminated your still and staring figure before a flurry of steps make their way down the stairs and you hear your mother gasp in horror.

“Y/N, what did you do?”

You don’t reply. Your father’s grim voice is next.

“Shit. We need to find him, and you’re coming with us.”

Your lips purse, but for once you don’t refuse. If only in hopes you’ll get to see him again, though for completely different reasons than your parents, that’s for sure.

“Okay.”

You walk in between your parents who share the same bewildered expression as they watch you walk up the stairs and back into the house. Plastered on your own face is a look of determination, with just a hint of slight need to find the still nameless vampire – you realize with a now slump in your step that you forgot to get as you hang the keys back into their rightful spot on the still cringey hanger.

All the more reason to accompany your parents, you rationalize selfishly–

And later find, foolishly.

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djs-horny-blog-lmao · 4 months

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DJ's Smut Fics Masterpost

oh my god, i now know that these are a pain in the ASS to assemble. but like,,,, handy. so here you guys go. I'm going to sort them into six handy categories for you.

be a good boy and...? - about 4.8k words. contains hypnosis/brainwashing, programming, mantras, orgasm control, trigger phrases, dubious consent. Use of 'good boy'. Features two of my OCs, Jamie and Aeor. (this is probably my fav thing on here ngl)

NSFS SUPERHERO AU

tbh, lowkey the best shit ive done, if you like a good hero-gets-corrupted-by-a-rogue/villain-w/-hypnosis then i've got some fics for You!!

EDIT: this au is kind of dark/fucked up. heavy on the dubcon and corruption kink - all three named heroes are succumbing to being fucked or fucking their villains and are not going to 'win'. please be wary of that going in. i answer questions about it via asks and most of the important plot/lore dumps are tagged under my 'nsfs superhero au' tag if you want to know more/get the tone.

siren's call - part 1 - about 3k words. dom!janus, sub!patton. Trans Patton. CNC, hypnosis, dubcon, corruption kink. praise kink (’good boy’), facefucking, fingering, sex with clothes on, magic sex, memory play, multiple orgasms.

unexpected songs - impossible tasks - part 2 - Trans Patton, sub!Patton. Covert/accidental hypnosis, dubcon, corruption kink. ...accidental exhibitionism? masturbation at the end (not exhibitionism, he's in private). multiple orgasms.

the next stage - part 3 - Trans Patton, sub!Patton, dom!Janus, tist!Janus. hypnosis, dubcon, programming/mind control, corruption kink. blowjobs, riding dildos, magic. multiple orgasms. orgasm denial. use of ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt’ to describe a trans man’s genitals. Praise kink.

Deeper and deeper... - part 4 - about 4k words - Trans Patton, sub!Patton, dom!Janus, tist!Janus. hypnosis, dubcon, programming/mind control, corruption kink. smattering of angst thrown in there. assurance kink. masturbation, degradation and praise, magic, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampies, obedience, orgasm control, crying, kissing. use of ‘pussy’ and ‘cunt’ to describe a trans man’s genitals.

NSFS HUMAN AU

trapped in a brainwashing facility - 3.6k words, roceit, hypnokink/brainwashing, dubcon, pretty heavy fantasy, open/’unhappy’ ending, missing memories, uses of subliminal messaging on the characters - semi horror/erotic thriller

sleepxiety and motorcycles - 970 words, semi-public, swearing, dirty talk, coming untouched (ish), sub!virgil dom!remy.

NSFS FANTASY/MONSTERFUCKER/TECHNOPHILIA

Big dragon, little prince - 2.8k words, Logince. top!Logan bottom!Roman, dom!Logan sub!Roman. Fantasy au. Pre-established relationship, monsterfucking. Dirty talk/degredation. Size kink. Brief mention of attempted murder at the start (monster hunters).

big dragon, little prince 2: now the dragon has 2 cocks - 3.4k words. Roceit. Mentioned Logince. Top!Janus, bottom!Roman, dom!Janus sub!roman. fantasy au. Pre-established Logince. Monsterfucking, dirtytalk/degredation. Size kink. Hemipenis/double penetration. Frotting. Janus uses they/them.

field research - about 4k words. sub/bottom Virgil, top/dom Remus, trans!virgil, referring to a trans man's genitalia as cunt and pussy, anal, double penetration, aphrodisiacs, intox/mild cnc/mild mind-altering substance, talk of breeding, overstim, monsterfucking, tentacles and monstercock.

untitled vampire logan logince fic - about 2k words. Vampire!Logan, logince, mind control/hypnosis, dubcon, vampiric thralls (fun fact, first fic i ever posted here and it's sat at 69 notes for months which still makes me laugh)

admin privileges - about 2.8k words -logince, sub logan dom roman. hypnokink, dronification, d/s, brainwashing/programming, dubious consent/cnc. Logan is an android and Roman is a human. Logan's trans, kind of. has a robopussy. uses of 'sir' and 'admin' as titles. inappropriate use of ports.

NSFS CANON COMPLIANT

just download ur bf a new brain! - roughly 4k words. Logince, sub!roman dom!logan, hypnotist logan, brainwashing, brainwashing via subliminals in music, descriptions of trance and dropping, cnc.

intrulogical hypno shenanigans - 4.6k words. Intrulogical, implied introloceit. sub!Remus dom!Logan. uses ‘master’ and ‘pet/baby boy/good boy’ as titles. Edging, trancing, and some good ol’ fashion boning. Contains an induction.

sequel to the above fic but now intruloceit - 4k words, threesome, hypnosis, dom!Logan, sub!Remus, sub!Janus, some initial anxieties, kink negotiation mid-sex, mantras, uses of ‘master/sir’ and ‘baby/baby boy/good boy/etc’ as titles

soft moceit hypnofic - about 3.6k words, moceit, dom/tist!Janus, sub!Patton, hypnosis, trance, a written induction of sorts, dubcon, gentle vibes, crying. Written pre-SvSs/POF

a book to turn off your brain - 2.6k words. loceit, sub!logan dom!janus, no actual fucking. Hypnosis via reading. Mindlessness, slow fall, implied hands-free-orgasm at the end, cnc

bimbo virgil - about 1k words. analogical, sub!virgil dom!logan, hypnokink, dumbification/bimbofication, trance, no actual sex, mirrors, uses titles like ‘master’ and ‘whore’.

janus gets double dommed - roughly 1.5k words. dom!logan, dom!roman, sub!janus. roloceit. no actual sex, just trance. Induction is written out. use of 'good boy' as praise. hypnosis.

NSFS THOMASxSIDE

Teacher's pet - About 3.5k words. Dom!Logan, Sub!Thomas. Teacher/student roleplay. Both degradation and praise, use of ‘sir’ and ‘good boy’. A little ...feet...play? it was accidental but it’s hot i promise.

The One Where Roman Ties Him Up And Fucks Him Silly - 3.6k words. Bondage/BDSM, sub!Thomas, dom!Roman, orgasm denial, overstimulation, hypnosis, voice kink, royalty kink, royalty/servant dynamic (sort of) use of titles like ‘my king’, and ‘good boy’.

Well um there we go i guess i'll update it with more as I write them?? maybe?? probably.

and damn. ive written more than i expected won't lie. if you want reccs from me, i think the brainwashing facility one, the dukexiety monsterfucking one, bimbo virgil, my OC one and just all the superhero ones are the best

#not safe for sanders #nsfs fic #dj writes #dj monologues #dj's masterpost #this took me like an hour and a half to assemble #updated to include a better content warning for the superhero au #last edited 4/4/2024 #added the robot one and pt 4 superhero

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svgvru · 6 months

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꒰ ✮ 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥 '𝟮𝟯 — 𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗞 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘!

𝗗𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗖𝗧! blasphemy + "a clit piercing? that isn't very holy of you, dear" , "show me how He has blessed you" ꒰ roland fortis x f!reader ꒱: fucking in a church, corruption kink, slight dumbification, some manipulation, virgin/innocent!reader, anal fingering, anal penatration, "glory hole" situation, age gap, just smut. let's pretend your ass is already clean, y'know. keep up good hygiene :D

"𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘," the words leaving the priest's mouth were somewhat fascinating to you. "romans 13: 13" roland fortis, a well known and well trusted man. he was set in his convictions and proved to practice what he taught. at least, mostly. never did he smoke, never did he drink, and never did he consume "filthy nourishment." the man wasn't even married, even if that was considered a bit weird to some folk. it was believed he had no secrets, except he had two. being a chassuer—vampire hunter—and you. if perhaps his vampire hunter secret became known, it would he no matter. however, if you became known, the matter would be big.

despite his teaching, he sermons about secret sin and temptation, he betrayed it all. “Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart,” Matthew 5:27–28. it was a verse often brought up, and he had never broken his own values, never gone against any of his sermons.

however, as little ms church girl—you, walked in, that had changed. every feature he could see and imagine he'd secretly lust after. it was unlike him, so be so...uncouth. it didnt help that you were so—innocent.

hearing your sweet voice in a time of confession. you were so timid, stumbling over words as you decided to finally express your sinful thoughts. "forgive me father, but i have been having some . . . sinful thoughts about another," you mumble, "and they won't stop . . . " he smiles to himself, humming at your confession. "have you felt the temptation to act upon your thoughts, mademoiselle?" he knew it was true. no matter how much you's scold yourself, look away, or try to think about other things, those thoughts in your head would not stray from him. even that time that you refrained from going to church—just to escape your temptation.

falling for the priest was your sin. falling for an innocent girl was his. although, could you be entirely innocent. "really? could you tell be about those thoughts?" his voice as smooth and comforting as ever. after all, you are coming to speak on your sinful thoughts. "i—" the second you told him your thoughts, you had a feeling you were doomed, but not in the way you originally thought.

you would never imagine that such a promising and trustworthy clergymen would fall for you. a girl woman fresh from finishing school, stuck in church with her family. you were sure he was at least nearing his 30s if not already in his 30s. he had shown no sign of faltering in his faith, until you. you wondered what was going through his mind when he called your name so . . . huskily. you wondered why he pulled you against his robes, in the small confessional booth where the priest was to seat. when his lips touched your jaw you were skeptical, but this man, he—was the one you desired.

"a-apologizes, father. but, is this—are we supposed to do this." you whimper out the words, hands clutching onto the fabric of his cassock. "fear not, this is simply how you get rid of such thoughts," he whispers against the skin of your neck. "have you ever had a song stuck in your head? you longed to listen to it, and when you did you found relief from that longing?"

you nod, releasing a shaky breath. "y-yes." you feel his lips curl into smile against your skin. "its just like that, you simply need to engage in it—just a little . . . " he whispers in a voice that makes you swoon. "trust me, you do, don't you?" he lifts his head up to lock eyes with you. you nod your head, looking into his soft eyes, although you can see a hint of something else.

you never would've known how the devil would stick to "innocent" souls had to not kissed the priest with such ferocity. how your lips connected and your inexperienced tongue melted into his mouth. you never would've known how full of sin a clergymen could be had you not let him convince you to slide into the window connecting the confession booths. it was quite large, you observe, not having seen a window this large. but your curious thoughts, come to an end at the feeling of his hands lifting your dress. his rough and calloused hands touch your bare skin with somewhat of a snort. you were embarrassed.

it wasn't an uncommon experience where women—or men—would often go bare under their clothing. it was freeing! who wouldn't? today just happened to be the day you finally felt comfortable letting your lower half free, it wasn't as if there a chance of someone seeing. after all, your dress was about ankle length. "f-father! is this really appropriate? i'm—!" a 'shhh' sound leaves his lips. "my name, dearest. roland," you could practically hear the smile in his voice. it was quite a new and somewhat confusiong experience. although, you couldn't deny—his new nickname for you was exciting. "its quite alright, i told you. trust me."

"m-mhm!" you respond to him in only a sound, yelping at the touch of his finger to your bare skin. you hear a chuckle leave his lips. your eyes widen as you realize exactly what he's laughing at, your intimates were quite open to see—including the lovely piercing you have. "𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘵 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳!" his voice is quite loud; however, the possibility of others hearing was quite low. after all, you had decided to visit him after church out of shame. his voice dips low, sending a shiver up your spine. "and here i thought you were innocent . . . "

his hands spread your ass, watching your twitching holes. "are you perhaps . . . getting a bit hot from my watchful eye? or is it my words . . .?" his index finger traces your pussy, dipling slightly between your folds. "i'm—i'm not sure . . ." you mumble. "but fa— roland. i'm supposed to save myself for a husband."

a hum leaves his lips. "mm, i suppose you are! but there's this thing," he starts, earning your attention. "there's another way to get satisfaction without losing your virginity." surprise covers you, finishing school had never taught you about any of that. "h-how?" you question, never knowing there was a way to avoid that. "by this, dearest . . ." he ever so slowly push one of his thick fingers inside of your virgin hole, it feels wet—perhaps from saliva? but it's not the one leaking slick, but your unused ass. your hand quickly laps over your mouth to prevent a loud moan from escaping the confessional. your eyes widen, rolling back a bit at the intrusion.

"that was quite easy," he comments with a smile. he continues stroking your anal walls with his fingers, eliciting moans from other booth where you're failing in your attempt to keep yourself quiet. you feel his other hand slide down your thigh, dipping between your legs to lightly touch your pulsing clit. "r-roland . . . " he hums in response to your call. "yes, dear?" his voice his far too sweet and loving for his action of flicking your piercing. the muffled scream from your lips fill his ears along with the clang of his nail to the peircing.

"maybe you could take another one, hm?" he slips another finger inside of you, gently stroking to loosen you. a string of shameless moans leave your lips—it seems as if you've finally given up on muffling them.

two of his fingers continue to move, their movements, becoming rough with the occasional flick to your clit. "such a good girl," you hear him coo. "let's get you to your release, yes?" he traps your clit in between his index and thumb, pinching lightly as his fingers plunge into you. a loud cry of his name leaves your lips. "shh, you must attract the attention of the cleaners," he lightly scolds, smiling at the whimper you let slip. "i believe that should be enough . . . "

his fingers leave you, eyes turned up in crescents at your poor hole twitching in anticipation.

you hear the ruffling of fabric and a sigh of relief from him. this is by far the most blasphemous thing you could do. willingly taking the priest's cock into you—as an unmarried woman, and a member of the house of god. you were sure He was looking down on you in shame, as you moaned wantonly at the feeling of his wet tip pressing against the rim of your ass. but could it be so devlish and against the lord? he said it, there was no such thing requiring virginity to extend to the anus, so maybe—just maybe . . . you could give in to temptation. it would take away your furture feelings, just as he said, right?

"𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘏𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶," you hear him mumble from behind you. a groan leaves his lips as he pushes into your warmth. the feeling was new—foreign. but, o god! how it felt unlike anything else! it was pleasurable, the stretch was painful, yes . . . but my—did it cause you to moan.

his cock slowly drags in and out of you, lewd sounds of skin slapping against yours. perhaps, your savior would shut the gates of heaven when you arrive . . . perhaps the gates of eternal damnation would await you at your passing . . . but you would gladly welcome the devil with open arms in exhange for experiencing this.

"a-AH! roland, ngh—!" your sweet moans fill his ears. your voice was enticing, it pulled him into your further. it caused him to fuck you rougher, faster, with more desire. he lied. it was clear he lied when he said a taste would prevenr further temptation. but once you get a taste, you long for the whole thing. you long to keeo tasting. that's just how humans are built. upon the foundation of greed is how other things are obtained. he never wants to leave you. imagine how your virgin cunt would feel wrapped around his cock? wet and warm you'd welcome him. he can tell simply from your moans.

you had become addicted to him, the same way he had become addicted to you.

his cock plunges in and out of you, your body rocking with his rough thrusts. his finger flicks and mercilessly pinches at your clit, your slick collecting on his fingertips. you swear you can hear the wood beneath you groan a bit. the musk of sex fills both of the confessional booths as his release in you, your climax coming along side him as you make a mess of his thighs. "mmph! a-AH! roland~!" your upper body slumps on the otherside, your lower half shakily standing as his thrusts slow.

when his cock leaves you, so does a disappointed whine. you weakly call out his name again, wiggling your bottom a little. you wondered what he was thinking as he stood there panting, what his face looked like. however, if you did, you'd only see the devil. or something like it at least. a beast formed from desire.

"see, now you're satiated."

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chosos-gothica · 1 year

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Modern AU Vampire Hunter D Drabble

BountyHunter!D x Reader (18+ MDNI!)

Contains: size difference, rough sex, dumbification, overstimulation, sloppy, mention of cream pie, mating press.

I wrote this with my pussy and not my mind so if you see typos, no you don’t. D is so hard to write sorry if this is slightly OOC :3.

“D.”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t been in town for the past three weeks and we haven’t fucked two days since you got back.”

The man closes the news paper he’s been reading and looks up at you from his position on the couch. He’s always so quiet and collected, that’s what you love about the man, but the fact he restrains himself so much bothers you.

“Be honest D, did you and Leila-“

“No, you know better.” He said quietly and put his paper to the side.

Though his stoic face barely betrayed much emotion, he looked hurt.

You covered your mouth and averted your gaze.

“ I’m sorry I- You just haven’t touched me since you came back that night.”

D reached out to you, his large hands resting on your hips. You were dragged forward until you straddled his lap.

“Y’know how tired I get after a job.” He whispers. “I got so frustrated with this hunt and I didn’t want to take it out on the person I love.”

His hand traveled to your plump ass lightly squeezing it.

You rested your head on his wide shoulders. “But what if I want you take it out on me?”

“I don’t-“

“You have to believe when I tell you that I want you to treat me like a slut sometimes baby.”

He licks his lips and thinks about your admission. You’ve always had trouble with D holding back in all aspects of this relationship. He’s always so scared of hurting you. His fingers pressed into your jeans more as he contemplated. You were so small, so cute compared to him. But fuck did he want to break you. Have you cry on his cock, cover you in load after load. Shit he’s getting hard. He bit his lip, as you played with his inky black waves.

“Promise you’ll let me know if I’m hurting you.”

“Safe word is sunlight. I’ll let you know as soon as I feel off.”

“You wanted me to treat you like a slut but now it’s too much Hm?” His hips snapped into yours creating obscene squelches from your sopping hole.

“You’re gonna- mmmm hah-split me in half!” You gritted your teeth. Your blurry eyes focused on your man lifting both of your legs of and to the side with one arm and the other hand grasping your hip. Sweat wet his long bangs. His thick head of hair sticking to his defined torso as he fucked deep into you.

You whine when he pistons even harder into you. His eyes took in your form as well. Your half lidded eyes, and your puffy lips slightly part. Your chubby belly jiggling with every hard thrust, and your breasts bouncing at the tempo of his penetration. Your walls throb around his cock, suck him in and squeezing his cock. He hisses as your pussy tightens up momentarily. He finally parts your legs tilting your hips up.

One of his calloused hands lift up your head as he changes position.

“Look.” He sighs. His cock slips out out for a moment as he presses your thick thighs against your torso, pushing your flexibility to the edge. Your eyes land on the head of his thick cock sat on your fat cunt. He lifts his hips up, positioning his member at your hole looking at your face when he slowly sinks his dick into your soft pussy. You keen at the sight of his fully sheathed organ. D immediately pumps in and out putting you into a tight mating press as your foreheads touch and your eyes meet.

“You’re squeezing me so tight.”

“Wanna cum-!” You moan out. “Wan’ your cum deee~.”

“Keep - mmmph- begging.” He fucks you deeper. This sight of you was downright filthy. Your tongue now lolled out of your mouth, drooling and babbling as his cock disrupted your thinking. Your eyes roll back as your orgasm builds up, spurring him to fuck you even harder. He’s never seen you this fucked out.

“Cum in my cunny! Fill m-me! Fill me up!”

“Don’t worry I’m gonna stuff you full.” He grunts into your ear.

#i…..am not well #nsft #vampire hunter d #vampire Hunter D smut #Dxreader #x reader #d x Reader #smut #lemon #drabble #oneshot

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uarmymoonlight · 9 months

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"thus with a kiss, i die" (part 2)

T E A S E R

pairing: vampire hunter!jk X vampire!reader

genre: fantasy!au, historical!au, forbidden/secret relationship!au, angst, smut

part 1

author's note: surprise, surprise, i haven't totally abandoned this fic :D i still have this story on my mind and want to finish it. i wasn't sure if anyone would even care about it, but recently part 1 has gained some likes and that motivated me. and this i guess is also my way of maybe motivating readers to express their interest in this story. so... yeah, pretty small snippet but here it is

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When he was 8 years old, since he was too young to properly hunt for food, Jungkook was only taught how to make an animal trap. Despite his best efforts, he could never make it right. Jungkook failed.

When he was 12, both Jimin and Namjoon tried to teach him how to use a bow and an arrow. But even after months of practicing, his aim was terrible. He couldn’t do it. Jungkook failed.

At 15, Jungkook was tasked with putting down his injured horse. And, even though he knew the animal would die anyway, he walked away from it and begged Namjoon to do the mercy-kill instead. Jungkook failed.

Four years later, at what would’ve been his first mission - an ambush for a raucous vampire - Jungkook got so anxious about it that he threw up for hours. Namjoon took Jungkook out of the mission. He failed again.

Now, he has another fail to add to his life, because no matter how many times he hears your explanation, he simply cannot skip a damned rock. The awful thing only sinks with a loud splash.

“I told you to flick your wrist, Jungkook”, you say laughing at him.

“But I did! I flicked it!” His defense is met with more laughter from you.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook’s managed to convince you to go on a little escapade with him again. This time he took advantage of the fact you were already out with your maid at a trade fair near the city limits. All he had to do was take your hand and tell you to run. You were very cooperative. In no time, you two got lost in the crowd, leaving your poor, frantic maid behind.

Jungkook lead you out of the city, down the river and towards the forest. You stopped when you finally reached your usual place: an area where the river is larger and calmer, forming a small lake. Although not exactly a secret place, as anyone who followed the river could reach it, the fact that the next closest and bigger city was in the opposite direction allowed this little area to remain almost forgotten. Except, of course, for those looking for a little privacy. And privacy is exactly what Jungkook needs if he’s going to get any information out of you.

“There’s a difference between flicking and turning, darling”, you tell him.

And he knows he shouldn’t think so, but you look absolutely stunning right now. Your once pretty dress is now ruined with mud all over the hem and some on your sleeves too. But what’s really killing him is how the wet light fabric clings to your skin, letting him see your curves very clearly. A few drops of water drip down your face past your beautiful lips, down your collarbones and dip into your cleavage. It’s really a test for him to not keep following that drop of water with his eyes. With his lips.

God, he needs you to be as far away from him as possible.

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i'd love to hear some thoughts and opinions on this

hope you like it! ;)

#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #jungkook you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook vampire #bts x reader #bts fic #bts vampire au #thus with a kiss #my writing #bts #twakid #thus with a kiss i die

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andordean · 9 months

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Intro Post Is Here

I promised myself I would make an intro post with my fic list when I hit a followers milestone, and lo and behold, the time has come to make good on that promise.

(Breathe in. You got this, Dor. Ok, here we go.)

Welcome, friends. If you followed me sometime in the last year and a half, here’s a funny story for you: I used to write Witcher fics (a lot even, at one point) (and I pray I will write again, though at the moment brain be words what no speaky English). (But I digress.)

What you can find on my blog: shitposting, sarcasm, salt—and Ciri. A lot of Ciri. (Often tagged as: "brat <3". No reason.) Also, many Ciri pairings. We support most Ciri pairings in this house.

What you can find on my AO3: Also a lot of Ciri in different pairings, or sometimes in multiple pairings, as (a) I am a multishipper and (b) Ciri is bi and can do no wrong and (c) has two hands and a hatred for cages and also (d) poly/open relationships are the new love triangles and we need more of them, actually.

Specifically:

"Blood Ties" verse, aka Queen of Cintra verse (aka mammoth), or a 100k words novel in three parts about what happens if neither witchering nor ruling the empire (nor dying, I guess) fully satisfies our girl's ambitions. (Answer: let’s go and shake up the geopolitical landscape of the post-TW3 Continent, reclaim your throne, piss off Dijkstra in the process, make new allies and enemies both, grow and heal, get what you wanted, find indulgence, and also love. Ships aplenty, including some nobody else thought of. Just saying.)

"Broken Pieces" verse, or what happens if Cahir survives, but somewhat fails to move on (he tries), and Ciri fails to be indifferent (she also tries). (Answer: witchering shenanigans, but also some family reunions, Ceallach being a Smart Cookie, Geralt being the Daddest Dad, Ciri being a brat, but also right, but also needing a reality check and to get her head out of her ass. Spoiler alert: happy/bittersweet ending. It’s Witcher-verse, after all.)

"Splinters" verse, or what happens when the author develops a brainrot. (Answer: modern!AU with the main theme being: everyone is thirsty for Cahir/Eamon’s hands. Banter, pinning, thirst, smut, and more banter. Past that comes back to bite everyone in the ass, heartbreak, and a happy ending. Always a happy ending. And Angouleme being the Best Gremlin.)

“The Ghost of You”, or what happens when Ciri gets Ideas, and tries to use Cahir to get what she wants. (Formerly known as the Cancel WIP. Mind the tags with this one; set during LotL, unhealthy coping mechanisms aplenty, trauma and PTSD galore, leading to the first steps of healing. It’s always, always about healing with these two.)

“Sing To Me In The Dark”, or what happens if Cahir finds himself in Kaer Morhen to help defend it from the Hunt. (Answer: the author wants to know too. Although the author mostly knows, but brain no speaky English, see above.)

“Hunter’s Moon”, or what happened in Beauclair during the hansa stay there, from the point of view of a certain succubus. (Answer: a certain vampire attempting to be a smartass, not always succeeding; smut and banter, and more smut. Also, a heartbreak.)

If you like any of the above and tell me about it, chances are I’ll be making you a birthday gift the following year.

In the meantime, enjoy the shitposting, the salt, the sarcasm—and Ciri.

#intro post #my fics #fic: blood ties #fic: broken pieces #fic: the ghost of you #fic: splinters #cahir x ciri #ciri/tankred #ciri/cerys #ciri/regis #cahir/ciri #brat <3 #cirilla of cintra #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #emiel regis rohellec terzieff godefroy

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trashcollected · 2 months

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#TRASHCOLLECTED

Indie multi-muse RP blog. Features characters from various media, such as, but not limited to: Batman, ANOES, Disney, Vampire Hunter D, MCU, Death Note, ASOIAF

RULES & MUSES INTEREST TRACKER SMUT SIDEBLOG

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sproutwings · 4 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers!

The lovely @crestfallercanyon tagged me for this weeks ago, and I haven't been ignoring it - I just didn't get around to it sooner. Sorry!

How many works do you have on AO3? 380 (382, technically, because two are still anon/unrevealed exchange works.)

What’s your total A03 word count? 1,123,214

What fandoms do you write for? Currently, mostly DCU, The Flash and a bunch of tiny fandoms, but I've been writing fanfic for ages, so I went through quite a few fandoms.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

a) cut me open, take my heart (DCU, JayTim, 1744 kudos) b) A Bird in the Hand (DCU, Dickstroke, 1694 kudos) c) Hook(er), Line and Sinker (The Flash, Coldflash, 1586 kudos) d) No Shortage of Blood (Original Works, Starving Vampire/Vampire Hunter Having A Moral Crisis, 1453 kudos) e) Portrait of the Artist as a Middle-Aged Man (Gossip Girl, Dan/Blair/Chuck, 1149 kudos)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I always try to, but sometimes it takes a while to get around to it. /o\

What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I have no idea. I used to write a lot of angsty stuff back when I was younger but the older I get the more I gravitate towards fics that leave the characters in a... well, maybe not necessarily in a good place exactly, because I tend to ship a lot of dysfunctional ships and write unhealthy relationship dynamics, but I don't want the characters to feel hopeless and unhappy in the end, so even when they're in a bad situation, they're making the best out of it.

A very old, very angsty fic of mine is Too Close To Touch (Harry Potter, various permutations of Draco, Harry and Hermione). I don't know if it's the angstiest overall, but it occasionally still gets comments so it's fresh in my mind despite having been written almost two decades ago.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh no, this is similarly hard to answer. Maybe Throw Away the Plan (The Flash, Coldwestallen)? Most of my endings seem to be "the main conflict of the story is dealt with, the ship kisses and things are okay-ish for now". 🙃

Do you get hate on your fic? Maybe once or twice, but nothing dramatic or memorable, luckily enough.

Do you write smut? Sometimes.

Do you write crossovers? No.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes! Someone copied a few of my fics word by word, replaced the names and posted them as Kpop RPS. D: D: D: I got the author to take them down, but they did it with a lot of people's fics and eventually AO3 banned them.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, a few! I blanket allow translations, as long as they're credited properly and not posted anywhere but AO3.

Have you ever co-written a fic? Yes, but it was a really long time ago, and coordinating was pretty stressful. I prefer to work on my own schedule.

What‘s your all-time favourite ship? Noooo, don't make me choose. I love so many ships! If I absolutely had to pick one, it would be Tommy/Bubonic from Eye Candy, but it mostly depends on what I'm in the mood for right in that moment.

What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? There's Coldflash BDSM fic based on a long-forgotten Tumblr prompt I would have loved to write one day, but it would be far longer than anything I'm comfortable writing and it's only 'in progress' in so far that I have a few dialogue snippets from it written down yet.

What’s your writing strengths? Character voices and snappy banter, probably.

What’s your writing weaknesses? Plot!!!! As you can see by every fic I've written where the characters get captured or attacked by some nameless villain for nebulous reasons. I always handwave stuff like that because I simply can't bring myself to care about it or put any thought into it. 😅 Sorry!

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? As a reader, It always throws me out of the story. :(

First fandom you wrote for? The X-Files! Mulder/Krycek was teenage Sandrine's first fanfic obsession. (Though technically, I wrote terrible Star Wars and The Three Musketeers fic long before I knew what fanfic was! But I've decided that doesn't count. 😅)

Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

(never been) so much at stake (OW, Vampire Moonlighting As A Barista/Exhausted Vampire Hunter In Search Of Caffeine) is probably the best, but The Biggest Score of All (The Flash, Coldflash) has my heart!

I'm supposed to tag people here, and I'm terrible at this, so @waysheswings, @sunherirai, @moriavis, @zeroducks-2, @hithelleth, @elasticella - if you want to do this, consider yourself tagged and if you want to ignore it, pretend I never mentioned your name. And anyone else who sees this and wants to answer, you're also tagged! Yes, I mean YOU. :D

#memememe #hello ask box #sandrine's favorite things #ao3 #fandom and other kinds of crazy

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dovithedarklord · 6 months

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Age of Monsters - Chapter Four

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

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Author's Note

The training continues, and Leona shares an intimate lunch with her favorite Hunter.

Hello!

I'm putting a trigger warning here again, because the chapter contains blood and its consumption! I know that I have this among the tags, but just in case! :D

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Four

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I take a silent sip of my coffee, enjoying the leftovers of my breakfast when I finally don't have to mentally prepare myself for one of MacTavish's or Garrick's sadistic training ideas, despite the fact that my body is slowly getting used to the torture and constant pain. I suspect that this has something to do with me being an Extreme, because no matter how much we Healers lag behind the Hunters in terms of physical endurance and stamina, our bodies adapt to the load sooner and recover faster. Of course, this is probably just a nice side effect of our role, because how the hell would we survive when these energy vampires suck us dry if we wouldn't at least be able to pull ourselves together faster than an average person?

Of course, from this small success, a slight joy blooms in my soul, but I can't appreciate it in the least, because more serious thoughts are swirling in my mind, which causes gloom to creep onto my features. And it seems that I radiate just enough sinister energy, because the soldiers lounging in the cafeteria only dare to measure me with furtive glances, and they mostly avoid me, like they would do with a leper. I don't blame them, because if I were them, I would be terrified to venture with a free and accessible surface of skin near a person who could break the line of my pathetic little life with one touch. But right now, it's not the attention being paid to me that bothers me, but rather the aftermath of my little intimate moment with Riley.

As much as it still fills me with perverse joy that the highest-class Hunter of the Liquidation Unit 141 was bent out of shape thanks to my machinations, I'd be lying if I said his behavior didn't raise my blood pressure since then. Of course, whoever cooked the shit should eat it too, but the man has retaliated with meanness and harshness that belied my predictions and expectations every damned day since then. I knew he had enough pride and dedication to his duty that he wouldn't stop the training. I also expected that his coldness would return, after all, I had already managed to decipher that not only was his nature like that of a carved wooden doll, but his defense mechanism was equally effective. After all, since the afternoon, when he burned the imprint of his hand on my neck as a nice new necklace in response to our nice little chat, he redoubled his efforts and kept his distance from me even more enthusiastically than before. And when he has to use his mouth, because I deliberately don't pay attention to his nonverbal instructions and pantomime play, then he speaks to me with as much kindness as if I was some pesky dirty thing from under the sole of his shoe. And sure enough, those comments of his aim to penetrate my soul just as deeply as my answers try to get a rise out of him. Of course, while I found this amusing at first, because it showed that, despite appearances, I really got closer to solving the man's nature, but after a while, I also got tired of playing verbal ping pong with a wall. I know that I provoked him, I sought trouble for myself, but I didn't expect that his subsequent behavior would get on my nerves much more.

Surprisingly, however, he conducts my teaching with incredible professionalism, which sets off thousands of speculative thoughts in the winding paths of my gray matter. Because he sends the message that although he doesn't really want to treat me as a human being, he still has such perfectionism in him that he expects the maximum from me every time we stray into each other's space within the confines of my training. And I'd rather kill myself by biting my own tongue and choking on it, than admit that he does provide me with a lot of useful tricks, even though an execution would probably be a more enjoyable activity for both of us. And it is still an unsolved mystery to me as to why I let all this spoil my mood so skillfully. Because I got what I wanted, I got a reaction out of him, which helped me take the first step on the bumpy road which will lead me to solve the Hunter's enigmatic behavior. And yet, in the hidden back corners of my head, there's a dark, disgusting feeling that I can't identify. I would rather help my head meet the hard material of the tabletop if it would help my brain cells recalibrate these silly thoughts, because there is no point in getting annoyed by something that I know is the guaranteed end result of my own behavior.

I look at the clock on the wall of the cafeteria with a tired sigh, and for the first time, I'm glad that I can get into another exciting workout, because at least the charm of the novel experience will be able to distract my mind from this slippery slope caused by the masked Hunter. Although the thought of what kind of goodies Price has in store for me already fills me with pain, nevertheless, pouring the last drops of my coffee down my throat, I stand up, forcing my limbs screaming for rest into action, and I head towards the exit of the cafeteria, leaving my mug na plate on one of the counters lined up there. It is possible that my sloppy movements and my unusually high amount of disgust with life are also due to the fact that I am forced to go on a marathon diet for the first time in my life. Despite Laswell's assurances, that I would be kept at least as well as an animal waiting for slaughter, I was not once entertained with a tasty morsel during the two and a half weeks since my arrival. I have been forced to go without blood for a long time before, but considering that my body is trying to adapt to new challenges in survival mode, I know that this is not the point when I can play with my hunger. Even though I'm not actively healing my injuries, my body uses my energy automatically to at least push me to the brink of normal functioning. I feel that I still have some extra power left in me, but it won't be like that for long. And I'm going to hunt down a cute little soldier boy before begging Price or Laswell to spare some blood for me. Maybe I'm making my own life harder, but I've never begged in my life, and I'm not going to start now.

I stride along the long corridors with determined steps, which I have now managed to memorize enough so that my little team dares to leave me to wander alone, which I consider to be really a brave decision. Of course, both they and I know that the security system of the entire base is tight enough that I wouldn't have a chance of slipping out unnoticed. And honestly, the thought of escaping seems like such a far-fetched dream that, for a while now, I haven't wasted my brainpower to observe where each exit leads to, and how many soldiers are patrolling there. I can realistically assess that the best chance I have to skillfully get out of here is if they voluntarily escort me out into the outside world. And even then, there is the not-so-negligible problem that I would somehow have to survive the inevitable encounter with the monsters. And sweet little girls like me don't usually live through these kinds of fun experiences without proper planning. Of course, reminding myself that I'm sinking into ever greater depths of the sea of shit doesn't help my mood, and because of this, if possible, I walk even more nervously towards the scene of my training today.

And as soon as the double doors of the supposed gym appear before my eyes, I pull the corners of my mouth into a gloomy grimace from the sound of enthusiastic shouting emanating from inside. Placing my palm on the door, I open it with a firm movement, and my eyebrows run to the middle of my forehead as I take in the sight unfolding before me. I don't know what ideas I had when I heard the name "gym", but I did certainly not think, based on any of my mental images, that the sonorous term intended to cover a real battlefield. And although looking to the side, I recognize one or two metal monsters suitable for physical training along the walls of the room, my attention is immediately drawn to the fighting ring standing in the middle, in which my favorite captain is currently pounding a young boy into the ground.

The closer I get to the gladiator performance mocked as training, the clearer it becomes how carefully Price handles the guy, who nevertheless slowly looks akin to the gray cat appearing in archive cartoons, who is miraculously disposed of by the mouse for the hundredth time. Despite this, he fights heroically, and after he falls to the ground, he stands up again and tries to attack the Hunter, who only smiles and deflects the blows directed at him. For Price, this might just be a little bit of fun, but the boy takes the whole ordeal so seriously that my heart almost feels genuinely sorry for him. Almost. Because he has no chance, yet he tries again and again, and the crowd of soldiers standing around the ring shouts and cheers him on, as if the guy would really have a sliver of hope to win. All these antics seem pointless, because even though I've never been near a monster, I've studied their behavior enough during my work to know that if he can't prevail here, he'll only buy enough time with his small weapons on a real mission that he'll be torn apart by a behemoth mutant a minute later then usual. My cynicism seems cruel, but it doesn't change the fact that plenty of the many eager little soldiers won't return from deployment without a Hunter by their side to help them survive. And even then, with luck, they'll come back, but not necessarily in one piece.

"That's enough, Riggs!" Price finally stops the match, and the guy grabs hold of the ropes of the ring gasping for air. "Nice work. Go get some rest." The man pats the boy on the shoulder, and a proud smile appears on his face, as the little soldier nods and walks out of the little arena to his companions who enthusiastically clap him on the back.

Of course, I don't have to wait long for the Hunter to notice me, because as his eyes scan the small crowd in search of his next victim, his eyes find me almost immediately, which brings an infinite cheerfulness to his face. Clearly, my arrival has only increased his already high spirits, and this makes me suspect that he probably has the same excitement for me as for the little guy who got his ass whopped. I could've guessed that this would happen sooner or later, because I'm not so naive as to believe that only MacTavish and Garrick enjoy sadism during training.

"I'm glad you found your way here, Woods!" He shouts enthusiastically, which suddenly make all eyes turn towards me, and indeed they are filled with the very readable emotions of confusion and caution. Now, for the first time, I sympathize with them, because even I can't imagine why he feels that it was a good idea to invite me here.

"Yes, unfortunately, it was quite difficult to get lost." I answer cynically, and I already feel that even though nothing has happened yet, the first sparks of nervousness are igniting in my mind, thereby worsening my already not-so-rosy mood. And now I know for sure, that hunger has something to do with it, because it certainly doesn't help that all my nerves are on edge waiting to see what crap the man comes up with.

He doesn't seem to be bothered in the slightest by the murderous temper I exude as I stand as still as a sculpture, with folded hands in front of my chest in the middle of the mob gathered around me, because he strolls out of the ring and heads towards me with the ease of a true leader.

"Attention soldiers, today is a special day. Woods is joining us, so get your act together!" The captain starts to lecture, and his voice automatically attracts the attention of everyone present. He walks towards me with heavy steps, and when one of his gloved hands rests on my shoulder, I involuntarily tense up as I realize how he towers over me. Again, I just need to make the mental note that no matter how harmless he looks, he's still just a Hunter who could easily kill me. He wouldn't even have to try that hard. That's why the paternalistic attitude towards me and the soldiers is so annoying. "We have to give her a hand in her training, so I expect the best from you!"

Almost simultaneously, the sound of agreement echoes through the soldiers, and I can feel it on my skin how their previous puzzlement suddenly changes and is replaced by excited anticipation and slight pity. They don't dare to say it, or show it in particular, but over the years I've honed my perception fine enough to know that every little bastard here is almost trembling in waiting for the opportunity to deal with the nasty, evil criminal who has invaded their little nest. There is no doubt that many of them greeted my arrival with, at best, skepticism, if not fear mixed with hostility, and I could enjoy the effect of this every day when I appeared near them. And now they will have the chance to show how better they think they are. How cute.

"Don't worry Woods, I've got something else for you, than for the newbies." Price reassures me and takes me by the shoulder to guide me toward the ring, and I reluctantly allow him to lead me there. Because I really have no choice but to cooperate with him, whatever delicacies he came up for me.

We stop in front of the fihting enclosure, and he helpfully pulls apart the ropes delimiting the ring in front of me, silently instructing me to enter the scene of my suffering. I flash a dark look at him, then comply with his request and climb in, quickly studying my surroundings with my eyes.

"I read in your file that you attended the mandatory military course during your studies." Says Price, easily stating the facts, and I slowly turn back to him wondering why he feels that he must now deepen my experiences from ten years ago. It's obvious that if I go on a mission, I won't have a chance to survive with my bare hands, so I'll be equipped with weapons, preferably protected behind a Hunter. After all, if the goal is to be able to use me on their small adventures, then I should stay out of the monsters' way as much as possible. And I have even less chance to use my knowledge against Hunters who have been trained to kill all their lives. That's why I don't understand why I need to develop skills that I won't be able to use. Of course, I don't deny that it would definitely come in handy if I could learn something useful here, but I already have proven methods of neutralizing targets who get close enough. Price seems to forget that I can kill with a touch and a burst of energy. "It included hand-to-hand combat, yeah?"

Of course, at the mention of my little basic training, some soldiers' faces light up with glee, and the joy that appears in their expressions is almost pathetic. It's fairly certain that they believe, just because they were thrown here by chance or due to blind patriotism, and they've been taught about the rules of survival for a few months, then that will be just sufficient to crush me easily. However, they forget a very important factor. The reality of what I am. This fact separates me from simple people like them. And I declare this with the greatest awareness of my arrogance.

"Yes, although I don't think anyone would want to come within arm's reach of me." I state innocently, with a small, albeit rather malicious smile on my face, running my eyes over the small audience, who suddenly realize why they had kept their distance from me until now.

"Don't worry about that, these guys are tougher than they look." Price assures me in a calm tone, and his features show that he understands perfectly what I'm trying to demonstrate to his students here, but there's no need to fret, because he won't let my mean little hands do anything dangerous. It's not like I'm stupid enough to let myself be caught red-handed. It didn't end well the last time I tried it. "Douglas! It's your turn!" He turns his back towards the soldiers behind him, and at his command, a well-built, but rather young-looking boy moves from the crowd and fights his way into the ring with his chest puffed out.

Douglas halts in front of me and straightens his back with such confidence, while surrounded by the cheers of his little friends, that it is quite ridiculous. Although he might only be eighteen years old, and barely a half foot out of puberty, he has already managed to grow to such a size that he could make anyone feel uneasy. Judging from how his peers are trying to fire him up, it is not incorrect to presume that even though he is a newbie he has some skills, which at least partially justify his behavior. And no matter how much it crosses my mind that I tend to lure similar boys to dinner, I don't let that thought develop any further, because considering Price's training methods, he is more than capable of sending me to the floor.

"Since I'd like you to survive fieldwork, you must improve in hand-to-hand combat as well. But today the goal is to see what you're capable of now." The captain mentions the reason for the entire little circus today casually while folding his arms comfortably in front of his chest, as if he were just a teacher who just wants to observe how wild his students can be if they are left to their own devices. "I want you to do what you've always done. I want to see what you know. " He declares with the utmost confidence, and I stare down at him with narrowed eyes, with a grimace on my face that clearly tells him that he has lost his marbles. Price must have had heatstroke in the overheated, sweat-smelling room, because he seems to seriously forget exactly what he saw in my file.

"Are you sure you want that?" I ask, and I don't even try to hide the graveness in my voice, because even though the young guy is probably able to take care of me, he's still only a normal human, and as soon as I get my hands on a cloth-free surface of skin, I can knock him out in seconds. And even I can grasp what an idiot the captain is for letting his little apprentice into a potentially deadly trap. Of course, the notion occurs to me that neither Price nor the rest of the base are aware of exactly how quickly and unfairly I am capable of lashing out at others. Therefore, the man can rightfully be curious about what sneaky little tricks I have up my sleeve.

At my statement, of course, disbelief takes over the faces of the new recruits for a moment, but as Douglas shakes off all his fear, and just puts a mocking smile on his face, his companions once again find the strength of malicious joy, which gives them the incentive to start shouting quite enthusiastically. Price silences them with a small wave, and stepping closer to the ring, he leans close to me through the ropes.

"The goal is not to retrain you. But to further develop what you have." He explains softly, yet his deep voice contains such honest determination that even I am taken aback by it. Until now, I was certain that even though they wanted me to be tougher, the ultimate goal was to train me to be an obedient pet. And the thought that Price would like me to use my talents to the fullest pushes my brain down some very interesting rabbit holes. The stray idea that this man and his companions (with one very terrifying and irritating exception, of course) really mean well, and might be able to accept me one day with all my dangerous practices, gives me a rather strange warmth in my belly. And if I were a little more naive, I would truly believe that they do. But a second is enough and I steel myself again, because now is not the time to analyze the meaning of these small gestures.

"I can't guarantee he won't get hurt." I warn the man seriously, but he only gives a small smile in response, and pats my arm as he steps back to give the limelight to the newbie and me.

"The fight lasts until someone gets on the ground. Douglas, give it your all! Woods, don't hold back!" Price gives out the instructions, and his words are met with a roar of excitement from the small group of people gathered around the arena, as they encourage my opponent to give it everything he got and knock me out as soon as possible.

I take one last look at the Hunter, and finally, I turn all my attention to the soldier in front of me, who adjusts his training gloves and takes up a fighting stance with his legs slightly apart, and his hands raised in front of him, with a determination in his eyes that says I can't expect anything good if it depends on him. How fortunate that, unlike him, I have no illusions about what the other can do. I let the series of habits acquired over the years take over me, and I feel my consciousness adjusting to the state that usually dominates me during my hunts. The dull waves of hunger appearing in the depths of my stomach are now helping my mind shift into the state that has helped me imagine myself as a predator with almost blessed efficiency.

My gaze glides over him at lightning speed, and it's quite obvious from his posture and the way his whole body tenses up like a spring ready to jump, that he has enough combat experience to chew me up. Even if he wouldn't be able to pull such a feat, he still has the physical advantage, and that alone is enough for me to immediately conjure up an army of tactics in my head to defeat him. Because losing is not an option. It would only give the mob what they want and prove what they believe about me. That I'm a slothful little leech, whose only use is to serve their superiors. And I'd rather make a necklace out of my own guts than let that happen.

Douglas gets bored of our staring match the first, bridges the distance between us with a few steps, and moving close enough he swings one of his fists, and I can register from his first movements that he is not afraid to cause pain, even if I seem relatively weak and defenseless. But before he can hit me, I dance away from him with light movements and dodge his blow. He turns his head towards me bewildered, and I see the surprise appear in his features for a fleeting moment, for which I only give a small, mocking smile to him. Although I'm not physically as strong as him, and I don't have months of persistent training behind me, thank heaven, biology compensates for this deficiency. Because even though I don't come close to the Hunters, as an Extreme my reflexes and sharp little eyes have ensured that I can get out of difficult situations in mostly one piece. Even a normal person could compete with this little skill, if I wouldn't be a mean bastard and use every little advantage to play dirty. And I have just enough experience in how to trick others.

I take advantage of his momentary shock and start circling him with deliberate slowness, and it does not escape my attention how his shoulders jerk after observing my activities. The pride disappears from his face, and he follows my every step with concentration, as if he is waiting for the predator to pounce, and he is not mistaken. The goal really is to find a gap in his defense, but as always, it's better to get him to willingly give me an opportunity to attack.

And I must have annoyed him enough with my little ploy for him to take the fight seriously, because when I pause not far behind him, waiting, the unmistakable scowl of rage blooms on his face. He springs into action with such fervor that I narrowly dodge his next blow, and it doesn't come as a surprise when his right hook hits my side dead-on. The pain ripples through my ribs like lightning, but it sobers me up enough to try to get close to him before he can start to fix my face next. But he easily avoids my swinging fist, so I'm forced to nudge his knee with my foot in the meanest way possible, almost teasingly, with just enough force to make him hiss in pain and back away from me before he can do more damage to me.

My rather insidious little move unsettles him for just a moment, and as his face turns redder with the fury raging inside him, I grin, belying the pain throbbing in my ribs. The crowd around us is now screaming advice and egg on Douglas to stop playing and to finally take care of me, and there is no doubt that even without his fans he has reached the point where he feels no need to be subtle. And I'm just waiting for him to become careless and leave me a tiny little opening.

That's why, when he lunges toward me again, I just stand stiffly waiting for his strike. And I don't have to be disappointed, he quickly appears in front of me and lashes out at me with all his strength in his angry left jab, but before I can even experience what kind of anger he wants to convey to my face, the clever reflexes of my kind kick in. My hand suddenly reaches towards his and my fingers wrap around his forearm, and this startles him just enough for me to take advantage of his surprise and thrust my other little paw into his face with the speed of a viper about to bite. My palm smooths over his mouth open from shock, my fingers dig into his shaved skin, and I can already feel my energy running through me. And as the first wave of my power reaches him, he doesn't even have time to understand what's happening, because his eyes roll back immediately, and his body goes limp on the floor of the ring with a huge thump.

In the sudden silence that settles in the room, the chirping of a cricket would be ear-piercing, and I just measure up the passed-out guy who lies on the ground with the elegance of a starfish with much indifference. I feel a little sorry when I remember that the poor guy will be playing dead for a while because of my little tricks, but then I quickly settle the tiny weakness of my heart inside myself, because it's his captain who insisted that I fight him by showing off my sneaky skills. If Price didn't demand for me to toughen up, sooner or later he would have simply beat the pants off of me, there's no doubt about that.

The stunned immobility of the room is interrupted by Price, who climbs onto the arena, steps towards Dougles, and checks if the boy is really just taking his well-deserved beauty sleep. And when he is sure that the soldier is indeed still alive, he picks up his limp body with an effortless movement, gestures for a few guys to move closer, and hands them their unconscious comrade. When my victim is safe, the captain turns all his attention to me, and I feel an irrational sense of doubt and defensiveness rise up in me, because I'm almost certain, by seeing his expression, that he will now express his displeasure with my show.

However, real astonishment settles into my every fiber, as the man steps closer and firmly pats my shoulder with a satisfied smile appearing on his face. And in the way, he looks down at me gently, I don't feel any malice, but only warmth, which makes me quite uncertain as to what hell is going on here. Because I was quite sure that even if he wanted to see with his own eyes what I could do, he wouldn't be happy when he saw me in my element after I let go of my nice girl person and let loose. I was convinced that when he was confronted with the fact that I didn't just look dangerous on the pages of my file, but that I was actually a savage bitch, he would have the same disgust and condemnation in his eyes as anyone with an iota of common sense. And yet, I don't see any trace of contempt as I study his features utterly perplexed.

"Good work." He tenderly squeezes my shoulder, and the small gesture gives me a confused tingle in my stomach, which I can't identify when was the last time I felt, so it sufficiently deepens my bafflement. "We can work with this." He announces firmly, and his deep voice rings with real determination. "But it won't be an easy ride, so get ready! It's my turn now!"

Instead of the possibilities of potential pain appearing in my head from his statement, for some reason, a completely new motivation rears its head inside me. I can't tell if it's his aura or the unspoken promise that he really wants to see me as more than just an object, but it suddenly seems easy to overcome the excruciating pressure of hunger and fatigue weighing down on me. And fueled by this newfound enthusiasm, I position myself ready to attack, eagerly preparing for whatever difficulty Price throws my way, because no matter what, I will not disappoint. Because neither he nor I will let failure be an option.

⃰*

I stare rigidly at the tiny crack running along the ceiling with my eyes, and by now I've checked about a hundred times how many centimeters it might be. I had time for it, because I had been awake since the dull pain first appeared in my stomach, which has been tightening around my insides like a vise ever since. It's been a long time since I've felt hunger show up like this, and although I'm not yet in a state that makes me feel disgusted with mysefl, I want my food just enough to keep me up through the night.

I haven't consumed a single drop of blood since I arrived here, and a little fasting wouldn't be anything new to me, but considering that every damned day my dear teammates have amortized me with new surprises, I've crossed the line where I can comfortably tolerate the gnawing pain in my stomach. And although I vowed not to beg for my delicious snack, after yesterday's training session with Price, I got to the point where I considered taking out my more charming self and trying out my persuasion skills. Fortunately, the captain seemed to be counting the days of my fast, because after kicking my ass in every way possible and sending me to the ground in the ring God knows how many times, he announced that the next day Laswell would finally come to the base with my goodies. And I squirmed awake from the thought all night, until I assumed my current position, mentally chanting that the morning would come as soon as possible.

The sun's rays have been high for a long time now, and they paint the wall of my small room in warm light, but still, no one has come to invite me to the breakfast intended for me, or more like an early lunch now. And I'm getting more and more nervous and impatient by the minute, and with every noise that filters in from beyond my door, I look at the handle ready to jump, to see if it moves at last. I'm fully aware that this whole situation is pathetic, but the urge to scold myself for this has long since passed. I save my strength for when I finally have to drag myself out of here, so that at least the appearance of being relaxed and carefree can remain. For my pride would not let them see the ways in which I am tormented by hunger, which they actually forced me into.

It occurred to me at some point during the night, that it must have been quite intentional on their part to force me into fasting because they knew I needed blood and not just on holidays. By now they could have also guessed that my body tries to regenerate itself even if I don't consciously use energy. So it should have also occurred to them that my appetite would come back much earlier than expected, yet they let the fun drag on until this point. Of course, it's not easy to get blood, because it has to be obtained officially, from professional donors, who were probably only recently approached, because, to the best of my knowledge, there are no other stars like me in colony No. 17 who could have needed this service until now. And I'm the most understanding person ever, but at the same time, it is also certain that this does not allay my suspicion about this whole thing being a deliberate step to punish me. I suspect that this is just one of the many tests they want to use to see how far they can stretch the string inside me.

My musings are interrupted by a knock, and I sit up so quickly that sudden dizziness creeps onto me, and I have to grab the edge of the bed for support. For a hot minute, it seems that I might just be hallucinating, but when the intruder tries to break the door down again, I finally jump out of bed and run to the door in such haste, that I have to pause for a moment before I would wrap my fingers around the door handle, to protect it my image. And when the entrance to my room opens to reveal a menacingly huge figure, I'm already blessing my restraint because I'd swallow my own tongue before letting Riley see me desperate. Because apparently, instead of all the possible applicants, he was ordered to the threshold of my small abode to collect me for my presumably cordially served main course.

And almost reflexively, a sour expression of irritation appears on my face, which I don't even try to hide or banish, because I can feel a similar burst of enthusiasm radiate from him at the sight of me. Although I had already gotten used to his indecipherable, yet overwhelming gazes during training, in my current state I had lost all sense of humor to tolerate him. In other circumstances, I might even tease him a little to get our little pastime off to a better start, but the night spent awake and the ache turning like a knife in my stomach trample on the beginning buds of my sassy comments.

"Laswell wants to see you." He informs me briefly, and I would prefer to shove the fucking mask on his head down his throat, as his dark eyes, studying me, settle purposefully on my obviously worn face. And I can imagine how much pleasure this can give him, because even though he may be taking on the role of a statue in front of me, it doesn't take much brainpower to figure out that the past few weeks had surely put him in the mood to watch my agony.

"Wonderful." I reply in a similar concise manner, and by stepping toward him I force him to back away. My door closes behind me with a loud bang, and I look up at him expectantly, suggesting that he show me the way to the nice station chief of the base, because my relative patience will soon run out. Especially in his company.

Without a word, he begins our journey to the heart of the base, I follow him with similar silence, and for the first time, I do not regret that I don't have the strength to entertain him with my humor and sharp tongue. Because now I don't have the slightest desire to continue experiencing the complicated situation that arose between the two of us. And as my eyes instinctively stray to his broad back in front of me, the question of how long the cat-and-mouse game between the two of us will last flashes into my mind again. I know that he won't reward my similarly nice behavior towards him with just mean comments, strictness, and criticism forever, and for some reason this makes me feel morbidly excited. I'm slowly starting to get familiar with this cold and hard side of him, and even though I'm getting tired of him not allowing me to have similar experiences to the one I encountered in our first training session, the insatiable desire to penetrate his hard exterior further still rages in me. And I still can't explain why this urge awakens in me, why I feel the need to solve Riley's mystery, but there is a curiosity in me that annoys me just enough to not let me turn the pages over the story. Although I should be satisfied with the few things I have at my disposal, that I can use to anger him enough to lose his concentration, so I'm able to attack if necessary, but unfortunately, my sick thirst for knowledge does not allow me to do that.

As usual, the base is buzzing with busy soldiers, and I'm slowly getting used to seeing this sight everywhere except the solitude of my room. Still, malicious joy awakens in my dark little soul, as the faces of the people are filled with fear or even caution, and they whisper behind my back as I stroll away next to them. I can safely assume that the unfortunate adventure of their little comrade with me has already reached all of their cute little ears, and it fills me with happiness to know that my little demonstration of strength was enough for them to keep a meter distance from me, if they had not done so before. Because even their fear is better than being looked down upon.

However, my attention is diverted from my joy when the Hunter leading the way suddenly stops, and with only great luck do I manage to pull myself out of the sea of my thoughts, so that I can stop before I crash into him. I look up annoyed, and as I identify the sign of the infirmary, I only raise one of my eyebrows in interest. I find it very ironic that they chose a place for me to exercise my eating habits, which the residents of the base visit out of dire need, but most of the time they don't come for a snack, unlike me. It's like taking a fox to the henhouse.

Riley opens the entrance to the infirmary with a firm move and enters without waiting for my reaction, and I follow him with exceptional obedience. Upon stepping inside, the sterile smell of disinfectant hits my nose almost immediately, and for some reason, it stirs up a painfully nostalgic feeling in me, as my head protests against the intrusive smell with a slight throbbing. It reminds me of the days I spent in the lab, and for the first time since my arrival, I feel the absence caused by the loss of my career. How sad that I can no longer hunch over microscopes and lab results. I suspect it would feel like a walk in a park compared to my current situation.

"Woods! How nice to see you in one piece!" Laswell appears behind the door opening from the side of the infirmary, and I take careful notice of the security system activating with a soft beep after she exits. I only need to look at the control panel on the wall, and I know that the secret little room can only be the medical storage, where she presumably hid all my potential goodies. It is quite a clever move of her to place an unbreachable obstacle between me and the object of my hunger, for even though I know that relief could be within arm's reach, I will always be dependent on them. Fucking fantastic.

"I thought you would never honor me with fulfilling your end of the deal." I remark with indifference, and as a faint, but omniscient smile appears on her face, I suddenly feel an irresistible desire to quench my thirst with her blood. The look on her face tells just enough to confirm that my diet was a deliberate show of power. Of course, it is understandable that she resorts to such vile methods, because although I am currently living in my relatively cooperative era, no one has forgotten that I spent a good portion of my life with illegal entertainment. And maybe we both know that habits die hard.

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten what I promised. That's why you're here." She explains, and then in her hand, she flashes the bag smuggled out of the storage, in which shines the deep red of the one thing I've so enthusiastically come all this way for. "Have a seat." She requests, as she invites me to make myself comfortable while gesturing towards one of the immaculate beds, and I don't take my eyes off the blood bag for even a minute as I jump onto the hospital bed. And suddenly I could swear that that special metallic, yet sweet aroma reaches my nose even through the plastic. I know that it's just my mind playing tricks on me, and I have to force myself out of the spell that was cast on me just by the sight of the red liquid. I've always had a strong reaction to blood, but over the years my morbid fear of getting caught has proven to be enough of a motivating force to develop self-restraint. Of course, this is a much more difficult task when hunger is persistently digging its claws into my stomach.

"I was hoping you didn't call me here to chat." I make my little stingy comment to the woman, and her self-confident calm still doesn't waver, and I seriously wonder what the hell they're taking around here, that puts them always in such a crazy good mood. "I'm not in the mood for that now."

Without further ado, I reach for the bag, because now I really have no patience for arguments, but the woman simply shakes her head, as if she would want to explain to a confused child why she can't eat sweets for dinner. This frustrates me enough to make my eyebrows furrow impatiently and I nervously purse my mouth shut, because why the hell is this chick wasting my time now?

"We act in accordance with the legal regulations, and according to this, a Hunter must supervise your feeding." She begins, and I automatically flash my glance at the man mentioned, who just wanders to the wall opposite me with lazy steps, to lean against it comfortably with his hands folded in front of his chest. No way.

"Absolutely not." I snap at her almost immediately, because the thought of Riley being the one to accompany me while my lovely little snack takes over my consciousness, fills me with anger and fear at the same time. No one has ever witnessed how I consume blood because I know how the whole process affects me. And I don't need that to be analyzed by someone who is capable of using it against me.

"Although I understand that this can be stressful, unfortunately, we'll do this the legal way. The regulations were set in place for a reason, you should know that the best." Laswell covertly points out the obvious fact that the eating habits of my kind have probably already caused problems. Although she probably doesn't realize how much self-control I have, it would be futile to deny that she's right to assume, that if I get sufficiently lost in my meals I'd want a little dessert in the form of one of the innocent bastards living here. A valid, but inaccurate assumption.

I could correct her and argue about sticking her fucking rules where I suspect spiders have been weaving their webs for a while, but there would be no point. She has a tight expression on her face that tells me there is no argument that will soften her heart to my problem, and I am far more hungry to drag out this scenario even a minute longer. So I just roll my eyes with spectacular boredom and sigh in irritation, giving my silent consent to this whole circus. I'm forced to swallow this bitter pill, because I don't want to provoke a little punishment from the woman, and I suspect that she would have no problem hiding my snack where she got it from, if I'd still feel like resisting.

"Ghost is only here to look out for you." She adds pointing to the Hunter in question with her free hand, and her features soften as she observes the fact of my acquiescence. "There is no need to feel uncomfortable." She assures me almost kindly, but she can't awaken any other emotion in me with her attentiveness, apart from irritation. Because instead of the man, I would rather invite any of his friends to chat over my lunch. "Enjoy your meal!" Laswell finally hands me the damn bag with a morbid little comment, and I just follow her out of the corner of my eye as she walks to the door of the infirmary and leaves the room.

And as the entrance closes with a soft click, the room becomes so quiet that even I can feel the tension sparking, which holds me back from eating my food right away. Placing the plastic bag in my lap, I direct my gaze to the man who is comfortably posing as a statue a few meters away from me, and by now I'm measuring him up almost automatically, searching for signs from which I can uncover what might be going on under the mask. His tall figure is dressed in casual clothes today as well, his black tactical pants fit comfortably around his long legs, and his arms emerge from under the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie, and now for the first time, I can see the tattoos on his left forearm. His body, wrapped in dark clothes, forms a gloomy contrast with the immaculate white walls, and although his posture seems relaxed, he still exudes a warning aura. As he stands, it would be almost impossible to decipher anything of what might be going on in his head, but I'm slowly getting the hang of what I have to look for. My scrutinizing glance falls on his face covered with a mask, and I find it interesting that today he chose his disguise with the addition of a skull, and not his simple balaclava, because for some reason I have the vague feeling that he wants to hide as much as possible from my curiosity. By now he could have realized that I was trying to read his every little move, and therefore decided to minimize all his interactions with me, so as not to give me a chance to probe any deeper. But this only makes me greedier, because it suggests that what he's hiding is worth revealing.

"What are you waiting for?" The question comes from him in a rather apathetic voice, and I merely tilt my head in interest, because I see the graveness flashing in those brown eyes, as he glances at the bag resting on my lap for a second.

"Are you in a hurry to be somewhere, perhaps?" I ask him, and the beginning of a mocking smile involuntarily finds its way to the corner of my mouth. I deem his impatience strange, even though I know he really has better things to do than play babysitter here. And yet, this starts a chain of tangled thoughts in my mind, which makes me increasingly interested in why he is here now instead of one of his friends. I'm sure any of them could have taken on the honorable task of watching me sucking a bag of blood dry, but here he is. I doubt it was his sense of duty that kept him from turning down the invitation, because he could have made someone else take the task on. As an SSS-class Hunter, he obviously has this privilege.

"I'm not the one needin' this shit to survive." He remarks, nodding to the bag with his head, and the movement itself is filled with such contempt that it reflexively ignites anger in me. "So stop babbling, I know you've been waiting for this all this time." He interjects his little commentary, which has an edge that could definitely kill anyone.

He doesn't even try to hide the disdain from his deep voice, and it's impossible to miss the way his eyes narrow and small wrinkles appear on the painted skin around them, and I can almost see him pulling his mouth in a distaste under the material of the mask. By now I could have gotten used to his comments, but still, when he hits me with his harsh words in a moment of weakness, when I am hungry, the desire for revenge flares up in me. Because, once again, he is acting hypocritically and forgets that we both walk in the same shoes, and we both need something, without which we would face serious problems in no time.

And that raises the suspicion in me, that this is exactly why he is here. He wants to witness me finally broken and weak, in a state where I'm vulnerable, so he can have a taste of the perverted pleasure he gave me earlier. This is now the time for revenge, and he wants to enjoy every moment of backing me into a corner, and experience how the mask of confidence and pride slips away from my reach. There is no doubt, that he would like his presence to embarrass me so that he can finally break off my horn that I’ve used to poke him with so enthusiastically until now. Because why wouldn't I feel humiliated by doing something that until now, I have probably done in my private moments because of discomfort and fear, and which reveals that I can intimidated and shamed by something too. But he's dead wrong if he believes that I'm not willing to overcome my shyness when it comes to preserving my pride.

It is true that I have been at a disadvantage until now, but I did not allow them to see me as weak because of the sick expectations I had of myself. And Riley could rightly assume that now would finally be the chance for him to admire what I looked like when I became undone, and he would have certainly used this information against me at the first opportunity. Very cunning of him, because from this I can conclude that we both like to search for weaknesses in the other, and I almost appreciate that he wants to gain an advantage over me in such an insidious way. While I usually provoke him in my devious ways, he seizes the opportunity in a much simpler and more straightforward way. And I, driven by this realization, decide not to deny him what he came for. I'll give him the show he so desperately wants and make sure he enjoys it.

"Sometimes I forget that you think we are different." I sprinkle the backhanded remark lightly, and in the meantime I playfully run my fingers over the little tubes on the top of the blood bag, keeping my eyes on his, which is suddenly filled with delicious anger at my little statement. It's not completely unexpected that I talk back even in this situation, but it irritates him all the more what I want to convey to him with my words.

"Drink, or I'll take it." He warns, and his voice is filled with palpable tension, which brings back the excited thrill to my stomach that I felt during our very first training session. For some reason, every time his hard voice deepens with his accent, and his tone alone promises unimaginable consequences, I feel a masochistic desire to find out if he really fulfills his promises. I've never experienced this part of my personality before in my life, and I should probably be worried about my new discovery, yet it's hard to stop my machinations. Despite the fact that I know I can easily acquire another pretty bruise or two like last time.

"You're wrong if you think that I am the only one dependent on something." I lift the plastic bag in my hands, measuring its red contents with nonchalant calmness, and slowly lick my lips as the first excited shiver runs through my body at the promise of a delicious bite. "My dietary preferences may be questionable, but let's not forget that out of the two of us, I wouldn't be the one to slaughter half the base if I ran out of power." I shed light on the basis of his hypocritical behavior, and when I leisurely my gaze slides over his figure, I see how a muscle jumps on his sculpted forearm.

I realize that this was a low blow, even from me, but it would be a shame to sweep the facts under the rug. It seems that he likes to pretend that he doesn't need my Healer skills, so that when the battery of the little Hunter inevitably runs out, he doesn't harm his little friends. However, we both know that there was already an example of this exact thing in the history of the Hunters, and there was certainly much to clean up after the aforementioned unfortunate killing spree. "Shut up and drink." He orders menacingly, and it seems, his patience is running out, but this is what he gets if he tries to deny reality so vehemently. Because I'm not afraid of the truth, but someone who does everything, maybe even puts on a mask, to escape from some unseen evil, can find it very difficult to make peace with the weaknesses inherent in their nature.

"You don't have to judge me, Riley. We both try to suppress our instincts, but sooner or later they catch up with us." I point out the truth, and in the meantime, I easily undo the opening of one of the tubes on the bag with my fingers, and forcefully keep a careless smile on my face in order to hold back the relief that overwhelms me from the sweet scent of blood.

"You're the only one driven by instincts here." He retorts, and in this one sentence, he condenses every drop of his growing venom, which rings crystal clear behind his words. But that doesn't upset me, because I've already settled into my role and prepared to show him the performance he came here for. It would be cruel to deprive him of that joy, even if the intimate moment will probably turn out differently than he expected.

"Hmm, maybe." I answer with comfortable laziness while tilting my head to the side, and I watch his body pulsating with tension, which makes him look like a panther ready to pounce, which can't wait to sink its claws into its victim. "But at least I'm not denying it." I shrug, forcing all the indifference in the world into myself, and with this last remark, I release the control that has kept me from throwing myself on my lunch with the elegance of a starving beast. And before he has a chance to react, I raise the bag and place my lips on the tube, and the relieved sigh that breaks out of me after the first sip, visibly shuts down what he wants to say.

The sour, yet chillingly familiar taste of blood spreads on my tongue, and as the liquid travels down my throat, the well-known warmth floods my insides, and an involuntary moan breaks out of me as I close my eyes and surrender to the feeling. I greedily suck at the contents of the bag, and with each swallowed portion, the excited trembling in my body increase, and the familiar buzzing fills my head, which erases all the dirty details of the outside world. Now, however, I grab all the remaining threads of focus and direct it on the man in front of me, because even though I vowed to give him a show, I can't let myself go completely, no matter how much the heat of the blood traveling to my belly pulls me towards the euphoria of unconsciousness.

And apparently, he is quite captivated by the sight of my feeding, because his eyes never leave my figure sitting on the bed, and his undivided attention on me gives me an evil satisfaction. To an outside observer, it may seem that he is not overly impressed as I consume the substance of the bag in large gulps, which in itself could drive anyone close to disgust. But I know that he is not bothered by the blood, but rather by my little performance, because he cannot hide how his broad shoulders rise up tensely, and the way he almost imperceptibly tries to press himself against the wall even more. I only gift him with a cheeky snort, and as I get lost in the wonderful taste of blood again, I enjoy the way my senses are filled by the pulsing warmth growing under my skin and the melody of his deep breaths reaching my ears.

I stop my activities for a minute, when I open my eyes and fix my gaze on the Hunter, and I feel the hot grip in my stomach intensify as our eyes meet. The dark sparks that sit in those brown eyes are inexplicable, and suddenly I don't even want to know what they could mean, because their heat almost burns my skin. The intoxicating fog covering my brain doesn't let me ponder on this question any further, but the excited buzzing in my limbs makes me want to go even further in my show. Therefore, tilting my head back, I touch the tube to my lips again, and lifting the bag, I allow the sweet stupor of blood to fill my consciousness yet again.

Glancing at him from under my eyelashes, I maintain eye contact and let the fingers of my free hand slowly trace the line of my throat, thus describing the path of the red liquid swallowed in slow sips. I don't even try to hold back the mischievous smile that creeps on my face when his jaw tightens under his mask, and I wonder for a fleeting second if he wishes he could wrap his hands around my neck again to end all of this. I'm sure he's already regretted starting this game a thousand times, because his whole being seems to become more and more on edge by the minute, and the tension emanating from him is almost gnawing at my skin. I'm close to being mesmerized by the way the muscles dance under his tattooed skin as his folded arms press tighter to his chest, and that only intensifies the fiery tingle in my stomach.

His eyes tear away from me as his gaze follows the line of my fingers, and when they travel with a feather-light touch along my chest and the delicate curve of my breasts hidden under the green T-shirt, he moves and pushes himself away from the wall so suddenly that I instinctively reach for the edge of the bed below me and grab into the fine fabric with my fingers. His entire body exudes the fierceness of a predator ready to lunge, and this only fuels the recklessness in my mind, which is already emboldened by the blood. The game I indulged in is quite dangerous, but even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to stop, because the perverse joy of once again being able to penetrate the stoic mask of the Hunter awakens in me. He takes a threatening step toward me, and every one of my nerves tightens and flutters with anticipation as he slowly closes the gaping distance between us. When he stops just a few steps shy from me and stares down at me from behind his mask, he almost dwarfs me, but this does not drive away the morbid excitement that settles in me. Because this is now similar to what I experienced during our last incident, but the ominous power that emanates from him is radically different, and I eagerly drink in all its vibrations.

I empty the contents of the bag with one last sip, then squeeze the last drops into my open mouth, and I feel a drop escape and run down my chin. I throw the empty plastic onto the bed with a nonchalantly, and catching the escaping drop of blood with my index finger, I follow its path all the way to my mouth, and I grin as his gaze follows my finger again. And as I lift my hand to my mouth and playfully clean off the last bite of my lunch with my tongue, his hands clench into fists with a force that seems almost painful, and now I can guess that he would really prefer to squeeze my neck with them. It's a shame that he has once again given himself up to my bullying and can't do anything about it.

"You were right. I really am a creature of instinct." I speak for the first time, breaking the heavy silence, and I let my energy still invigorated by the heat of the blood guide me, when I jump off the bed and step closely in front of him. I might be only reaching up to his shoulders, yet I feel more powerful than ever, even if all this fun has made the web of my thoughts about him even more complicated. "But it's only a matter of time, and it turns out whether you are too. Let's hope you're better than me." I taunt him, putting a small smile on my lips, when his eyes narrow dangerously at my statement.

But I just slip past him with the lightness of satiety and the drunken courage that settles on my mind, to then head for the door of the infirmary, because for my part, I consider the whole situation finished here. I even surprised myself with how beneficially the spark of my anger helped me through the entire meal, but I'm not sure if my brave little stunt did any good for my relationship with the Hunter. It has not been free of excitement so far either, but this current action of mine, sponsored by my courage awakened in my euphoric state, raised the tension between the two of us to a completely new level. Because I'm sure he was a hair's breadth away from doing something really nasty to me for my teasing, that I wouldn't have gotten out of with just the nice necklace of his fingerprints. And even though I gained another insight into what causes him to lose his composure, I still have the sinister suspicion, that sooner or later I will bear the consequences. And maybe I'm looking forward to it. How sick.

I take one last look at him as I open the infirmary door and stand on the threshold, and he continues to watch me with the same intensity as he followed through my lunch. And from the way every one of his muscles still remains in tense rigidness as he stands by the bed, I have a faint intuition that although he must have gotten something for his efforts, he doesn't seem nearly satisfied. And this puts the bug in my ear, which keeps chirping that our little conflict will soon reach its peak, and I won't like it one bit. We'll see.

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