heyitsaloy

[heyitsaloy]

Rumble Feature pt. 2

Follow up to this, because Y'ALL ARE SO RIGHT.

Shoutout to my cat, this is just him at 4:30 am every morning.

[heyitsaloy]

Rumble Feature

This was supposed to be a quick joke comic but I got all up in my feels about the first panel so

ETA: Now with part 2~

[heyitsaloy]

heyy, would you possibly do dick and / or jason nsfw alphabets??👀

JASON TODD NSFW ALPHABET

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare with Jason is perhaps even more intense than sex. It’s quiet at the start, his hand is reaching for you. Gently caressing your hip, then your belly and your stomach. Soaking in the quietness of the moment as you calm down from the adrenaline of the moment. His caresses would turn into soft kisses and mutual praises, perhaps a warm bubble bath too.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I would say for his thighs. Despite having a complicated relationship with and what his body has turned into, I think, he would truly enjoy his thighs. Especially seeing you riding them.

On his partner, everything. No, I am not exaggerating. He is the type to lose absolutely all. I do believe he has an aesthetic attraction more prone towards muscular and plus size individuals. Belly, thighs, boobs you name it. He is on it lol

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I truly believe he has a breeding kink and i have nothing else to add

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

…. Hear me out… pegging. LISTEN, I feel when he truly has found his partner all barriers come down. There's nothing more he wants than to be in love and to share his love equally back. He wants to feel safe and once he is secure enough rest assured he won't be shy with his needs and wants. PLS his pretty noises while his eyes roll back? Praising him? Damn it

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced but is an eager and fast learner 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Good old missionary but especially a fan of cowgirl and doggy

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Not at first. The first few times, and a while after that, he will be pretty serious. Maybe even intense for how emotional the moment is. But as time goes by he would soften up, not to crack jokes, but a few giggles and laughs would for sure come through

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

I would say he has some hair. I hc that after the pit his hair grows faster than normal ish, or at least, faster than they used to. He has a happy trail and moderate hair down there that he keeps cut but not completely shaved off

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Struggles with intense emotions but when he manages to work with them, rather than against them, his hopeless romantic side comes out. Expect deep yet soft thrusts, moans that make your shine tingle, kisses that leave you breathless and at least 4 mind blowing orgasms

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I don’t see him as the type to need it constantly. I feel it would be more or so a “hmm i haven't done it in a while and now thinking about it made me horny lets do it”

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Like i have said pegging, also praise– heavy on this one– biting, breeding kink, edging and not sure if there's a name for it, but i think he would be into being obnoxiously loud with the intent of being heard especially if he is feeling extra spicy

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed or shower/bath

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You. just you. But i feel he would also get off when you two are having friendly back and forth banter/challenges

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that can hurt the both of you and restrain on him

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He is a giver, he will literally eat you out like a starved man. But, there’s also something he can’t deny, about you, on your knees giving the most sloppy bj he has ever received it keeps him going

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

A mix. Mostly slow and deep, with a few hard thrusts. Extremely sensual on other occasions. Mostly, he will keep a pace stable enough to make you moan his name so many times your throat will be sore after

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Nope, i can’t see him being a big risk taker. Sure, he likes to keep things interesting as he runs on adrenaline– but that's in his vigilante life. In his private life he wants nothing but comfort

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Yeah, a few lol. There would be breaks in between, a snack or two. You two talking, and in a way it almost feels like an aftercare in itself

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He wouldn’t necessarily own some but if you do, then once you move in together they become of the both of you. Especially vibrators or dildos, I feel he would be a fan of watching you taking care of yourself before he starts… or, hear me out, gifting you a dildo that resembles his dick in shape, size and girth.. Custom made? Maybe… 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A TEASE. It’s funny yeah, until you do it back and all of the sudden he is turned into the most whiny, moaning mess you have ever seen

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud, at start. A few grunts, maybe some moans will escape here and there. As the relationship progresses though, he will grow bolder. Unashamed of his moans as he keeps thrusts in you. Praising you mixed with some filthy words in between

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

After the first time you two had sex he cried, in fact, he cried while he came. It just happened. Maybe it was the wave of emotions, maybe it was how intense everything felt. But he did. He hid his face in your neck, pampering it with kisses as he tried to hide his teary eyes. But when you eventually noticed, he couldn't help but cry a bit more. Now, you two laugh about it, even though it’s something that still embarasses him to this day 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

When erected it can reach 7 inches solid. Veiny, thick. Have I mentioned the happy trail already? 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not astronomical. He will feel the need every so often, but he won’t be on you 24/7. In fact I can see him going for weeks without it. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not fast. After aftercare and making sure you’re fine, talking, a snack and waiting for you to fall asleep; he will stay awake a while longer. Allowing himself to soak in this feeling of contentment, safety and peace. His eyes linger on your naked, sleepy form beside him and with a last kiss to your head he will fall asleep hugging you tightly against his body. 

[heyitsaloy]

"What the fuck," Jason mutters under his breath as the strong smell of blood invades his nostrils. He dropped the pizza boxes, abandoning Roy and Artemis at the door as he bolted throughout his childhood friend's apartment.

His mind was racing. His heart was beating fast. He just texted you an hour ago while he was at the store, asking you what your favourite toppings were. What the fuck is this luck??

He stops and stares at the trail of blood leading to your door. His breath hitches.

"No," He starts. "No. Nono. No. Nonononononono--" He rambles as his hand gripped the doorknob.

He opens the door. His eyes widen like dinner plates.

"Oh. Hey!" You smiled cheerfully, breathing heavily as if you'd ran a mile. A dead man lays on your bed, a knife struck to his neck and stab wound on his stomach.

"Didn't care to knock?" You sigh, wiping the blood off your hands. "Sorry for the mess. Assassins, these days suck absolute ass. Can't imagine someone paying for bad service."

[heyitsaloy]

Rook: [Fumbles and does something dumb] Spite: They're so stupid. We have to fuck them. Lucanis: What do you mean WE!?

[heyitsaloy]

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[heyitsaloy]

Pleasant Suprise's

Lucanis Dellamorte x GN!Rook

(Antivan Crow Rogue)

Warning: Violence, Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort (not proof read)

Summary: After a year of thinking he's dead, it's time to save him and bring him back only he's different this time

The mention of his name had made your blood run cold as the group were fangirling over the infamous assassin made you uneasy. That part of your past had to be buried after you joined Varric, using his work as a base to move forward from him. Treviso was never really the same once he disappeared the coffee shop visits with Illario didn't hit the same as the ones you did with him. You held onto hope that anything could happen that he still could have been okay despite everything. I mean the sky was ripped open in the south by a blighted self made god a few years ago...literally anything could happen.

You sat on the edge of Varric's bed as he rambled on about whatever information he could offer or the book he was thinking about writing as he healed. "You alright kid?" His rough voice startled you, breaking you out of his trance. You blinked at him, trying to get your brain to catch up with the conversation. Varric only chuckled, groaning lightly as he adjusted himself against the cushions. "Yeah...no I'm good, I think" you rambled looking over to the dwarf, your chin now resting on your hands. "Spit it out kid"

The sigh that left your lips was comical, earning another laugh from your companion. How could you just explain the situation? You weren't going to leave him in the prison they were keeping him in you knew that much, but so much had happened since then. You spent a lot of time mourning him, wishing there was something you could have done that made him listen to you when you asked him to stay away from the boat. " 'The Demon of Vyrantium'...I know him from the Crows" you began. Only to be cut off by another laugh, "I assumed that much kid, you are also a Crow or have you forgotten"

You scoffed, but his charm was working, the words felt easier to release in the peacefulness between the two of you. The trust and bond you had created with Dwarf often felt like it ran deep than hired help. "We have a past, we grew up together. Trained together. He was more than a friend" you said. Varric didn't chuckle this time, his eyes scanning for any signs of discomfort that you might have. "He's meant to be dead. I mourned him with his family- he was ambushed in the middle of the ocean before I could say anything"

Varric smiled sadly as you, his perception was something you were grateful for as you could see him reading between the lines of your admission. "I don't know if I'm ready to see a ghost" you whispered. Varric's heart broke looking at you, someone he's always admired for finding the humor in situations, keeping moral high and helping anyone they can. He's seen you walk through the streets handing out money to the unfortunates or having to wait for you to catch up as you pet one of the many cats that roamed the streets. It was like he was seeing a different person. "You've stopped a ritual, fought and entire group of antamnn 20 vs 1. You'll be able to handle it."

"It's not about handling it, it's just...weird. I worry he thought that I wasn't coming for him. Or worse...he's actually dead, and I'd have been given this slither of hope for it to be ripped away from me" you admitted. He didn't reply to that, he had no idea. Varric had seen so much, lost so much over the years. You knew he was understanding, listening to you but we didn't have a choice. If was alive you all needed him no matter what. Your footsteps echoed as you began to leave the room only pausing after Varric spoke your name. "You've got this kid...no matter what". You didn't reply, only giving the man a small nod before the door shut behind you.

The Venatori that greeted you was a welcome distraction as you and Neve passed through the compound with ease. "It's going to take weeks to get the sand out of my boots" you whispered under your breath as you began to break the crystals that held the barriers in your way only to then be met with yet another small group of Venatori. You were part way through peace talking, not that it was going to make a difference your hands itched to sink your blade for revenge - for either taking him away from you or killing him. The sound of feathers was loud as they whipped around the Venatori in a purple flash, you recognized the fight pattern your body freezing on the spot as you observed him work. He was there, right in front of you. You watched as the purple wings disappeared before he turned, holding your breath until your eyes fell upon his face.

Your legs wobbled as you finally made eye contact desperately trying to hold in the sob that threatened to be released. He has changed, you could tell. His body is leaner than you remembered, his eyes and skin having a slight purple glow...and that all without mentioning the new wings that he created moments ago. "L-Lucanis?" You whispered stepping forward. His eyes flashed with recognition his own body stiffening as they scanned your face taking in every detail. The new scars that littered your skin, the way your hair fell now. "Is it really you?" He whispered, his hands tightening around his daggers as he watched you creep closer. He had dreamed of being with you again, the feeling of your comfort as your hand held him. Your smell of that expensive perfume you insisted on buying at the markets. You nodded smiling brightly as you were finally in reach with him. His arms enveloped you first, his head buried in your neck as he took in your scent. "You're really alive?" You whispered. You felt him nod against you, his arms tightening not wanting to let you go. "Let's get you out of here"

The fire crackled as you sat in the common room, the flames dancing heating up the space. The stiffness in your body was the need to go through the door on your right and talk to him, say all those words you wanted to tell him when he returned from that trip a year ago. But he had changed, he wasn't your Lucanis anymore. Demon or no demon you weren't going to ignore him, you just needed to follow his lead. You didn't react when the door opened, or when his footsteps approached the other chair. The two of you stared into the flames finding comfort in the silence. "I never thought I would see you again...nor did I expect you to be the one to rescue me finally" he spoke. You almost felt hurt at the accusation from him about how much you cared. "If I knew where you were a year ago, that bitch would have been long dead" you spoke, venom lacing your tone. He looked at you again, spotting the bags under your eyes, the weight of expectations that now laid heavy against you with the looming threats on Thedas. "I'm happy to have back, there's no one else I'd want by my side during this than you Lucanis"

"Even with spite?"

You smiled at him sadly. The guilt and fear over his possession is laced throughout his features. "Even with spite" you whispered. His hand touched yours as he laced his fingers through yours, he felt himself needing the connection. "Does spite like coffee?" You questioned enjoying his touch. Lucanis chuckled, squeezing your hand. "Yes we can still go on our coffee dates"

[heyitsaloy]

I have a naughty thought floating in my head.

Just imagine when you and Lucanis are doing 'adult' activities when his control over Spite slips and Spite takes over.

Your normally gentle lover is suddenly rough and groping at your plush thighs and tits. He's whispering filthy things in your ear about how he always has to watch, but now it's his turn.

Just a filthy thought in my head.

A/N: YOU LET THAT THOUGHT RUN FREE AND GIVE ME MORE.

Lucanis does it best to control Spite during the times whenever you two become intimate.

He knew you control himself, you did take down a god after all.

But he knew it would happen sooner or later even though he wished it would be much later. Lucanis knew of Spites desires for you, feelings....if things like him could even feel that way.

Lucanis knew he should have been more careful, should have drank more coffee since this was your anniversary after all but all it took was one moment, one small lite crack that Spite could slip through as the man made love to you.

A cry leaving left your lips, your hands pinned above your head as Spite gripped your lips tightly. Hips snapping into yours, leg hiked upon his waist as he roughly fucked you. He couldn't get enough, he wanted more.

More...more...more!

Your skin soft, he had to memorize this, memorize every inch of your skin, every blemish, every scare, he will remember.

"Sitting back...watching. No more! No more." Spite whispered in your ears as he hiked up your thigh more, slipping deeper in your warmth, your walls squeezing so deliciously around his shaft.

Giving your plush thighs a squeeze, his hands moved up your chest giving your breasts a squeeze as he let his thumb rub your nipple.

"Mine! Mine!" Spite muttered as he continued his thrusts. "I will fill you! Breed you! Make you mine."

Biting your lip, you let out another cry as you did your best to match his thrusts. Moans spilling from your lips, bed creaking, your mind in a fog.

It felt good, too good and in the back of your mind you were thinking of ways to convince Lucanis to share you with the spirit.

But right now you were going to enjoy this.

[heyitsaloy]

The Gods split the skies and rained down tyranny upon the mortal realm long ago. Ever since then, the only thing worse than being human is being of Divine Blood.

For someone like me—an undocumented God child, indebted to the Underworld Assassination Guild—that means only one thing: A life in the shadows.

Or so it should have been … until Mortal Gods Academy. Until them.

The Darkhaven Brothers are truly the worst of all the Gods’ spawn. Arrogant. Wicked. Violent.

To them, I’m nothing more than a human plaything meant for torment. For me … they’re the path and the key to my freedom.

But if any of them find out who I am, what I am … even the shadows won’t be able to save me.

*Please note this is a DARK Fantasy Romance with themes of a dark nature, death of loved ones, and other various themes that may be triggering. Please check trigger warnings and read responsibly*

[heyitsaloy]

Careless Accidents

jason todd x fem!reader

aka you get hurt and jason’s pissed

warnings: reader’s wrist is accidentally sprained from being grabbed to hard

You could hear scuttling from somewhere else in the garden, an estate more than sizable enough than the game afoot.

You were under the distinct impression though that the bats and birds are playing with you similar to how they would a child. Slower, weaker, and less experienced than the big kids. You weren't complaining though. Because, frankly, it was stressful. They tend to operate more like they’re in a warzone than a game, you felt like you were about to be sniped out at any second.

Rightfully so, apparently, seeing how silently Stephanie had crept up on you.

“Hey,” Stephanie hissed, ignoring the way you jumped. “We’re doing alright for ourselves,” she said smugly. 

“Yeah,” you’d nodded, like you agreed with her more than you probably did. 

“Okay listen, I think the flag—” what flag? “—is by the fountain so, I think because there’s three of us and two of them, we should bait-and-switch.”

“We’re on teams?” you asked, no longer completely sure you know what you’re playing. 

“We are now!” she smiled, starting to run. “I’ll bait!”

She stopped briefly in her tracks and turned back to you hissing, “Don’t trust Cass,” before scurrying away.

Rather than sit around and wait there for…something?...to happen, you jumped up darting in the opposite direction with little to no indication whether this is a good move.

What you didn’t see is Cass rapidly approaching from your rear. 

What you also didn’t see was Dick crouched down in a row of shrubbery, which gave him the perfect opportunity to snatch your arm up and yank you down with him. You’d mewled a bit as your wrist made contact harshly with the grass, immediately buckling under you.

Cass was keen to your pain immediately, slowing her sprint to a stroll as she observed you.

“Are you okay?” she signs.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” 

The response was instinctual and you didn’t actually have time to register whether or not you were okay by the time you gave it. 

You pushed up on your elbows, trying to figure out whether Dick is even on your team, but the way the others approached had you halting consideration. They’re savvy to the situation at a speed in which you can only attribute to their vigilantism, looking at you with concern. 

“You good?” Tim asked, approaching languidly.

“That looked like it hurt,” Cass commented, crouching down next to you to see your wrist better.

Dick shook his head, “No, she’s okay.” He turned to you, prodding, “You’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m, um…” you winced, looking at your wrist. “It hurts a little.”

Cass examined it closely, tilting it gently to the side. “It might be sprained.”

Dick paled. 

“No.”

Tim pointed a thumb back towards the manor, “We can get it wrapped upstairs.”

“No.”

You were only then able to clock the barely contained grin on Stephanie’s face, begging to break.  

“Ooooh. He’s gonna kill you.”

Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.

“You know I didn’t mean to grab you that hard right? I—” 

Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dick’s now-third explanation/apology for the incident. 

“I know, Dick,” you say, trying to appease him. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you genuinely, but you can tell there’s more there that he isn’t verbalizing.

You nod, “I know, Dick. It’s okay. It was just an accident.”

Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that she’s all done. 

You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.

He takes a deep breath, “What if…what if you avoid him until it heals?”

“Dick.”

He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes, 

He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asks, looking like he’s bracing for bad news.

You shake your head sympathetically, “No. I can’t guarantee you that he won’t find out, but I won’t tell him.”

Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. “Okay. Okay.” He stands, “I need to go.”

You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically. 

Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.

“I’ll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.”

Tim barks out, “Absolutely not.” He looks at his brother, still laughing. “No fucking way.”

Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. “Five.”

A deadpan from Tim. 

“You don’t have five thousand dollars.”

Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. “Dude, please! He’ll kill me!”

Tim scoffs, “He’d kill me!”

Dick huffs, “No, it’s different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?” 

“Well then it sounds like you fucked up,” Tim sneers.

“Oh my God.”

He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?

He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.

The latter sits up with a tense brow, “Master Dick?”

The former turns around in his seat, “What’s the matter?”

Dick struggles for a second before confessing, “I accidentally sprained someone's wrist.” 

Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. “Alright…you’ll have to take responsibility for their patrol duties—”

Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, “Said person doesn’t have any patrol duties to be affected...”

Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.

“I can’t help you.”

Dick’s panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.

Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, “You don’t think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?”

“I—I don’t know!” Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know what to do!”

Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, “Dick, when you make a mistake…you have to submit to the consequences, you know that.”

Dick gapes, “This is not a normal consequence!”

Meanwhile, you’ve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jason’s childhood bedroom. 

You’re admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you. 

“Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.

“Hey, Jay,” you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you. 

Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back. 

You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. “How’s the bike?”

“Better than it was this morning,” he sighs. “Where’ve you been?”

He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you. 

You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. “Uh, we were outside, playing…at least three separate games at once.”

The second you’re in proximity, your hands join like it’s second nature. 

He nods, all too familiar with the family’s unique methods of gamefair.

“Did th—” He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. “What happened?”

You glance down, shrugging. “Overexerted myself playing tag.”

He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.

He turns your hand over gently, asking, “Is it sprained?”

You nod, relaxed. “Yeah. Cass said it’s mild.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No,” you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. “Barely hurt then.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look satisfied with the conversation.

Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt. 

“You, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?” he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following. 

“Yeah,” you say gaily. “Alfred said he’s making his ‘special spaghetti’, apparently it’s a household favorite?”

He wavers, halfway to between decisions. “Yeah…”

He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. “Can I see it?”

You nod, happy to ease his mind. 

You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.

You both see it at the same time—the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.

You’re both quiet for a second—him putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.

He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.

“Fucking idiot—”

You try for his hand but he’s out of reach before you can grab it.

“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles behind him.

“Jason—” you sigh, “At least help me wrap it back up first.”

He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.

You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. “It was just an accident,” you tell him. 

He scoffs, “It better have been.”

You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. “Jason. I’m not made of glass, you can’t expect other people to act like it.”

“I don’t. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he can’t do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.”

You sigh, “Just don’t do anything harsh. Please. I think he’s worried you’re gonna punch him.”

“He should be,” he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly. 

You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, “You’re not going to. Right?”

He doesn’t answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, “Right?”

His eyes roll, “Yeah, fine.”

You smile, holding his face. “I love you.”

He huffs as though he’s inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. “I love you.”

He looks you in the eye, face serious. “You promise me it doesn’t hurt?”

“I promise,” you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.

“Dick!”

The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.

He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes. 

“Where is he?”

Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding. 

Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.

He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. “Stephanie?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But let me know when you find him, I wanna see—”

But Jason’s moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.

He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.

There’s a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what they’re seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail. 

“Really? Really?” Jason shouts. 

“It was an accident! It was a fucking—” 

He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.

“Are you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherf—”

Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.

Dick takes a breath, “Dude, it’s fine now, it’s not that big of a—”

Jason recoils, “‘It’s not a big deal’? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!”

He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him. 

Dick throws his hands up in front of him, “Wait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?”

Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. “You can’t call a truce if you’re the only one who did anything wrong.”

“I…” It doesn’t take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option. 

“Please?” Dick asks, nothing short of imploring. 

Jason relents—slightly—upon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as he’d been planning to. 

“I told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hard—” 

Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. “I know, I know—”

“Clearly you fucking don’t!” Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. “You sprained her wrist. You’ve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?”

Dick grimaces, “I do! I do, I just screwed up, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t—” Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, “Did you apologize to her?”

 “Yeah, of course I did!”

For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body. 

The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.

It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, “Idiot,” before pushing him once more. 

“Jason.”

Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption. 

You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.

He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.

“I didn’t hit him.”

⭐️ your options are: (1) reblog fics or (2) be a little bitch ⭐️

[heyitsaloy]

oh thank god bro i thought jason was allergic to serving cunt

[heyitsaloy]

I just reada really good fic but halfway through I realized "oh shit this is really familiar.... didn't I write something like this once?" And as I kept reading I kept predicting what happened next and the further I went the more convinced I was that they'd ripped off my story-

like, copied the ENTIRE plot and re-written it, just better than I had? The characters were more fleshed-out than mine were, and the POV was more interesting, and the pace made more sense- but it was MY STORY?

So close to the end I was like "holy shit.. do I message them? Ask if my story inspired theirs? Should I be angry? Flattered?" Cause their tags and description didn't mention me AT ALL, which, sure, it's fanfiction to begin with, but if you're using my work than at least credit me as inspo, right? Just to be courteous?

But I get to the end of the final chapter, and it's not finished, and I'm kind of disappointed cause I never finished my story and I was really immersed in their version now and had been looking forwards to seeing how they tied up my loose ends- so I scroll to the bottom to leave a comment, and.

It's MY URL.

IT WAS MY STORY THE WHOLE TIME.

THE ONE *I WROTE*.

In *2013*.

And FORGOT ABOUT

BECAUSE I WAS SO INSECURE ABOUT MY SLOPPY, SHALLOW, AMETEUR WRITING

And I'm just sitting here now staring into space thinking about every shitty story I've ever written now like

IT WAS ALL GOOD?

IT WAS GOOD THIS WHOLE DAMN TIME??

I'M A GOOD WRITER?????

[heyitsaloy]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Ten - Taste of death

Lestat opens the door for you when you both reach the house. There is no point in trying to run because he will catch faster than you can blink. You walk into his living room and stand in the middle, turning to face him.

Lestat hangs up his hat and takes slow calculated steps toward you. Your heart was seconds away from beating out of your chest. 

“I hope you have made a decision.”

“You can't just expect me to say yes! This isn't something I can take lightly. You're asking me to become like you.”

“Exactly.” He stands a hair width away from you, his tall frame almost overshadowing you. “Exactly.”

“Lestat…”

“Do you not desire me?” He asks, hands reaching out to hold you gently.

“I….”

“Why hesitate? Take what you want. Have me.”

You look at him. He's pleading with you. He's still giving you the choice, but you know what he wants. He wants you to want it too.

“Lestat…”

“Chéri, I would give you everything.”

You know he would.

He tilts your chin up with his hand, his skin cold against yours. His sharp nail lightly scratches along your flesh, teasingly. “Let me have you.”

You look into those pale blue eyes and you begin to wonder all over again. Two immortal beings dancing under the moonlight not a care in the world. The desire, the love, the commitment.

He leans in close. His nose brushes with yours. You give in. His lips twitch up into a smirk. He kisses you passionately. Your body shocks itself back into life as you grab at him, lips chasing his. The sound of your breaths escaping between each kiss. His hands roam your body until he's lifting you up in his strong embrace. Your legs hook around his waist and he carries you across the room.

You don't even realise he's taking you upstairs.

You're too busy focusing on the feeling of his lips. The way his arms feel around you. You're intoxicated with that something only Lestat can give you. You want more.

Lestat holds onto you with one arm and flicks his coffin up with the other. It's only then you realise what's happening.

“Lestat.”

“Shh.”

His lips claim yours again and he sets you down in his coffin. Lestat hovers over you, kidding you hungrily. His hand pulls at your clothes enough to expose your neck. He lifts his head and looks down at you.

“Pick me.”

He's not asking. He's commanding.

“Pick me.”

You grab his shirt and pull him down, kissing him again. He doesn't stop you, giving back just as much. Though as much as he desires to stay here and make love to you in this coffin, he wants to hear you say out loud what you want.

He pulls away once more. “Tell me, Chéri. Tell me you want me for eternity.”

“I…”

His expression softens.

“I choose you, Lestat. Do it. I… I want you to.”

His wolfish grin returns and he cradles your head gently. Lestat brushes his lips along your chin and your jaw. Your heart is pounding and you feel like you're about to lose control of your breathing too.

Then he reaches your pulse point on your neck. Lestat's lips twitch as he inhales your scent. You don't have to see hisnface to know he's baring his fangs. It's too late to take anything back, you have already given him permission to do this.

You just hoped you wouldn't come to regret this decision.

Just like that he sinks his teeth into your flesh. You grab at him and the coffin, eyes wide, lips apart in a silent gasp. This wasn't like when he fed from you. This was so much more.

You could feel your blood leaving your body. In order to turn you he had to bring you to death. You had to die. The thought was as thrilling as it was terrifying.

Lestat remained attached to your neck as you felt your breaths turn to strained grasps. It was becoming a struggle. Lestat listened to your pained breathing. He removed himself from your neck and quickly slit his wrist with his thumb. Blood oozed from the wound and he brought his wrist to your lips. You latched onto him with your hands as sucked hungrily at his blood. Lestat grinned as he watched how desperate you were to taste him. His beautiful little fledgling.

He had to pry his arm away. You fell back into the coffin staring up at the ceiling. Your chest had slowed down considerably. He watched you with interest, head tilting to the side as his eyes stared at your lifeless body.

The room was quiet. Just a vampire waiting for you to wake back up.

You sat up quickly and flipped over the side of the coffin, vomiting harshly onto the floor. Lestat didn't even bother to look at the mess you had made. He watched you heave. You clutched the edge of the coffin like a lifeline.

“You're dying.” He points out.

You had figured out that much. It felt like dying. It felt like your insides wanted to be your outsides. You vomited again. And again. Then it stopped.

You lay still in the coffin. Lestat rose from his kneeling position and stepped over your puddle. He left the room. You didn't call for him. You didn't care to ask.

You were dying.

You're not sure how long you lay there for. Minutes? Hours? It felt like hours. Lestat eventually returns in a clean suit. You watch him come into view and stand over you. He kneels down and reaches out a hand to your face. You feel his fingers against your skin.

No warmth. Not even from you.

“Chéri.”

You slowly sit up and look at him. Everything looks so much clearer. You can hear sounds from down the street. The couple a few doors down are arguing. You can smell alcohol from the clubs nearby.

Lestat grins proudly.

You're just like him.

He takes your hands in his and helps you to your feet. You look at him. You feel strange in your own body. Everything is different.

“You'll get used to it,” he tells you in that delicious French accent.

You're too busy focusing on how hungry you feel. It's like nothing you've ever felt before. Your stomach burns and twists.

“I'm so hungry,” you groan.

After a change of clothes and a quick clean up of the bedroom, Lestat urges you out of the house. He grasps your hand as he guides you away from most of the population. He can see from that look in your eyes how eager you are to sink your teeth into someone.

Lestat wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He inhales sharply and speaks in your ear. “Time to hunt.”

He had to stop you from just doing it in the middle of the street when a man walked past you.

There was a couple having a date by the lake. Lestat had come here plenty of time to hunt. Two people meant one each. You're both crouched behind the car they had parked up a little bit behind them.

“I'll take her. You take him. What you want to do is sink your teeth in and suck. Once the skin is broken, the rest is as easy as walking. You want to drain her. Don't worry about the bodies.”

You look at him with your pale eyes. “You mean… kill them?”

“Of course.”

You knew it was a silly question to ask. It's what Lestat has been doing the whole time. Noah was evidence of that. It made sense you couldn't keep them alive after feeding from them. You're not sure why you thought otherwise.

“I… I don't know if I can.”

Lestat reached out and grabbed your chin gently. He turns your head to face him, your eyes instantly meeting his. “I know you can. Remember, you chose me. You chose this. You are a killer now. You mist feed. If we do not satisfy that hunger, ot will grow worse and you will feel a pain unlike anything ever before.”

You know this is a gentle warning. He's only going to tell you this once.

“Follow my lead and do not let her get away.”

Lestat comes out of hiding and strolls quietly toward the couple. You watch him for a moment and then also stand up. You follow behind him nervously.

The couple are cuddling. She's whispering sweet words to him as they laugh and smile. Tonight, they die.

Lestat's fangs protrude from his lips and he sinks them into the man so quickly you barely register what is happening when the woman screams. She screams his name and chambers to her feet. In a moment of shock she stops to watch what is happening, and then her brain catches up. She starts running.

“After her, mon amour!”

You find yourself not even hesitating. Her getting away will only cause trouble. Either with others or you. Your feet carry you faster than you have ever moved before. You're on her before you can even blink, grabbing her by the shoulders and tossing her hard to grassy ground. She winces in pain, but doesn't get time to even think before you're stalking over her like a predator.

“Please! Don't hurt me!”

You continue to stand over her. “I'm sorry.”

“No!”

You try not to think about it as you climb over her. You've seen Lestat do it. You just have to do the same thing. She screams and squirms under you. The noise is sharp and it goes right through you. You grab her, pinning her down and sink your teeth into her neck quickly.

Blood.

Her blood touches your tongue and you groan against her neck. You suck hungrily. You need more. Is this how Lestat feels when he feeds? Alive.

The woman stops squirming, but you don't stop. You don't even hear Lestat coming up behind you. He kneels down next to you and wraps his arms around you. He pulls you away from her. You look at him with blood dripping down your chin.

He kisses you. Passionately.

You grab onto his jacket as you return his kiss. You're needy and he knows it. Watching you feed had been one of the most thrilling sights he had ever seen. There is power within you and he's going to be the one to reveal them to you.

You'll both be unstoppable. Insatiable.

You both sit there on the grass, lips dancing in a seemingly endless kiss. His arms are snug around you. You are everything and more.

The bodies are promptly put in the abandoned car and Lestat drives you back to his house. He's obviously done this plenty of times before. Getting the bodies into his house was easy for him.

Lestat won't be alone again.

You follow him quietly, dragging one body behind you while he carries the other over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?” You ask.

“Outside.”

He loads you right through the house and into the yard. That's when you see it. An incinerator. That's how he disposed of the bodies.

“You've been caught?”

“I know how to hunt. I shall teach you, too.” He smiles at you as he turns the incinerator on.

You lean against the wall of the house as you watch him burn the bodies. Only after both bodies are burning inside does he turn back toward you. You don't move as he steps closer and caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. He studies you, taking in your features up close.

“You did very well tonight,” he tells you softly.

You don't say anything.

“We are going to have a lot of fun, me and you.” His lips curled into a grin. “Together.”

You smile.

Lestat wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in close, claiming your lips with his. You wrap your own arms around him in response, welcoming his kiss.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

Your new life starts here.

@secretisme4 @darkqueen1995 @bridkesby @caribbeangal @sarcasticandfangirl @missjadesfics @kaybart19 @whereismymindnow @chauchirem @angelrenee239 @ppureheroiine

[heyitsaloy]

TO BRING YOU MY LOVE

star wars | kylo ren x reader | rated e | 9.4k

fem!reader, vampire!kylo, modern au, dracula inspired, dub con, predator/prey, kidnapping with restraints, derogatory language (not from kylo), guns, violence, blood and blood drinking, minor-character death, semi-public sex, historical inaccuracies

This fic fills multiple prompts (from sweet anons and the fabulous @thorfemmes) for vamp!Kylo, from his backstory to Reader affecting him to the possibility of Reader becoming a vampire. Thank you all for requesting! I hope you're still around. In case you need a refresher, the previous parts of Me and the Devil are here, here, here, here, and here. (Why don't tags work anymore? 😩) This fic can be read as a stand-alone, though! Title from "To Bring You My Love" by PJ Harvey.

“Biker gang? Pfft!” said your boss Vic in reply to a bar patron.

The agitated patron continued, describing a group of bikers led by a dark-haired man with a scar bisecting his face.

You suppressed a shudder as you mixed a simple cocktail. That sounded too familiar.

You’d begun working at Vic’s bar a few weeks ago. It was an easy job. Vic was gruff yet kind. They’d shown you around when they learned you’d just moved to the city. They even invited you home for dinner, where you’d met their sweet wife and dopey Pomeranian.

After a moment of contemplation, Vic said, “A scar…”

With a dismissive shake of their head and a frown, they poured the patron a double.

When all the patrons were distracted, Vic took you by the shoulder and steered you into the dim storeroom.

“If I’m right, and I hope to hell I’m not, that gang sounds like the Knights of Ren.” You stiffened at the name, but Vic didn’t appear to notice. “They haven’t been around here in years, but they’re dangerous. You keep your head down, got it?”

You nodded as if you didn’t know exactly who Vic was talking about.

“Why would they be back…?” Vic asked more to themselves than you. “Fuck if it matters. We’re closing early for the rest of the week. Ain’t no one living it up while they’re here.”

In a caring tone you hadn’t heard from anyone in months, they said, “Anyone hollers at you, you ignore them. Just keep walking, yeah?”

You nodded again, though you doubted ignoring catcalls would save you.

Vic walked you back to the bar and told you to polish the clean wine glasses.

With numb hands, you carefully buffed water spots from each glass and slid them in the rack above the bar.

The next evening, Vic’s wife called. She never called, so it must’ve been important. Vic rushed out with only an offer to return to help close. You’d assured them you could handle it.

Just as Vic predicted, there hadn’t been many patrons. One of the last — a regular — expressed his disgust for the way everyone was pussyfooting around at night. He didn’t think the sun was going to stop the Knights of Ren from striking.

Oh, little did he know…

As the regular swirled the last of his bourbon, he said, “If they’re out there, no lock’ll keep them out if they want in.”

You politely agreed with a hum. No lock could keep Kylo away.

You didn’t know how you’d make it to your place if the Knights of Ren really were out there.

“Thanks for listening, kiddo,” the regular said before knocking back the rest of his drink and standing. “You watch out, though, pretty thing like you.”

He left a generous tip.

Closing went quickly after that. You clicked off the neon signs in the window, wiped down the bar and tables, mopped the floor, and pushed in the chairs. After shuttering the bar’s front, you snapped the tarnished padlock closed as quietly as possible. It clunked against the latch just as something glinted at the corner of your vision.

The hairs at the back of your neck rose. Your heart leapt into your throat.

You bolted.

You didn’t dare look back. It would’ve only slowed you down. You didn’t want to see a flash of red eyes and black hair, either. That would’ve paralyzed you. And you needed to run. You needed to run as fast as your legs could carry you—

Though you knew you couldn’t win — not against someone like Kylo.

No. No, no, no.

You couldn’t think like that. You’d gotten away before. You’d do it again. It didn’t matter how he kept finding you.

With a pause, you scanned the unremarkable street. You were far from the bar now. You propped yourself with a palm against gritty breeze block. Your thighs ached and lungs burned, all the more obvious now that you’d stopped running. You panted, throat desert-dry and mouth sticky. Tilting your head back, you tried to catch your breath.

The inky sky was as empty as the streets.

And you didn’t know where you were anymore.

You bit your lip and silently berated yourself for not paying attention as you ran. It was especially foolish considering you hadn’t been in the city for long. Unfamiliar streets looked more so in the dark. Questions dropped from your mind to settle heavy in your gut.

Where could you go now?

Your place wasn’t safe.

Who could you ask for help?

You didn’t want to put anyone in danger. No one would help a stranger at this time of night, anyway. Especially not when the Knights of Ren had been seen prowling.

Did Kylo know you were here?

He had to have sensed you. Your blood called to him. It must be the reason they were here.

A soft shuffle behind you threw you into action. You dashed down the street, away from the noise, away from the Knights of Ren. Surroundings blurred. Streetlights punctuated the dark. Your ragged breathing drowned out all other sounds.

You turned right, then left, then another right.

Before long, you had to slow. Your legs nearly gave out. You felt like you were running in circles. Everything remained unfamiliar, yet a sense of déjà vu remained. That storefront looked similar to one a few blocks back. Same with the pile of leaking garbage bags at the curb.

Or were they new?

You skidded to a stop by an unlit alley and braced yourself with hands on your knees.

You were alone. Not even a rat skittered. You slumped against the nearest building. A bead of sweat trickled above your eyebrow.

Whispering a curse, you wiped it away and inhaled lungfuls of air.

“You made this game quite easy.”

You froze. That oh-so familiar voice came from the alley.

“It’s like you want me to catch you, sweetness.”

As if made from the misty shadows themselves, Kylo’s silhouette manifested at the edge of a cone of streetlight. He leaned a shoulder on the nearby wall, insouciant.

Fear, like jagged ice, kept you immobile. The connection you had with him yanked at your breastbone. You grappled with the lure of stepping closer.

“You must be exhausted.”

You staggered away, feet nearly tripping over each other in your haste. The cracked concrete went indistinct as you turned to sprint. Arms like iron wrapped around your middle and pulled you into the alley. You stiffened, though you knew better.

A victim was supposed to go limp. It made an attacker work harder.

You squirmed between stiff and limp, kicking your feet. You drew yourself up to scream. A huge hand — warm, he’d just fed — covered your mouth.

Your muffled cries fell on a deaf city.

He tutted. “None of that.”

You couldn’t stop. There was a chance to get away. If only you could loosen his hold. You clawed at the arm around your waist. No tugging or scratching earned you freedom.

Blood-scented breath ghosted over your neck. A nose nuzzled into your hair. Soft lips brushed the shell of your ear.

Kylo breathed, “I have missed you.”

You paused at his sincerity, eyes closing.

No, you couldn’t give in.

You pulled at the hand covering your mouth. When it didn’t move, you slapped it. He let his hand drift to your shoulder, but not before his fingertips caressed your lips. You wanted to spit the feeling off.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

You hissed, “No,” and elbowed him in the ribs. “No.”

He tutted again. “You wound me,” he said, though he hardly sounded hurt.

He tucked his firm body against yours off-center and placed a tender kiss on your neck.

A shiver rolled through you, bringing with it memories of pleasure and promises.

“Stop it! Lemme go!”

“Back to that?” He sighed. “After all we’ve been through?”

Tears pricked your eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you, my sweet.” His hand slid to your throat, making you stretch and inhale. “Yet every time you flee.” His grip tightened and voice hardened. “Every time you seek my wrath.” He canted your chin to expose your jugular. “And every time you lock horns with me, it’s others who get hurt.”

You’d caused someone to suffer. Or maybe die this time.

“Don’t fret. It was quick,” he said. “They didn’t have time to scream.”

Vic. That was what their wife’s call must’ve been about.

You squeezed your eyes shut. A delicate tear rolled into your ear.

You’d killed them. You hadn’t meant to choose them, but you had. By keeping their company, you’d sicced Kylo on them. You knew what he was capable of. You realized it years ago. He’d killed so many.

Your gut twisted.

Your voice cracked as you asked, ��Why?” You shook your head as much as you were able. “I don’t— I never wanted—” You swallowed around a dry throat. “Fuck, why?”

Why me? Why do you want me? Why do you care? Why don’t you kill me already?

Kylo’s hold loosened. His hand traveled to splay across your upper chest.

“I want to give you everything. All of me.”

His hand disappeared, and two fingers guided your chin to the side. You complied and opened your eyes.

“Anything you want. Just stay by my side.”

You studied his dark pupils rimmed in red, seeing his hunger and ruthlessness and loneliness. None of that had been apparent when he’d barged into your life.

“Just give me your heart.”

“I don’t want—”

He cut off your protest with a kiss.

You hadn’t protested at the start. It felt good to be desired by a dreadful monster like him. He’d opened himself, answered every question.

He’d told you about his mortal life. His mother Leia Skywalker had been part of the dvoryanstvo — Russian nobility. She’d run away to the United Colonies, where she’d fallen in love with some reprobate. Being a proper lady, she’d married him, bedded him, and proceeded to get with child. Leia ran home when colonial life no longer suited her. She’d had her child — a son: him — during the crossing.

Since Leia was married, and Kylo not a bastard, they were welcomed at court. The reprobate soon followed. The tsarina found the Amidala-Skywalker and now -Solo clan quite the curiosity. The tsar enjoyed Solo’s hunting skills.

Kylo said he remembered standing with his grandmother and mother to watch the gilded debutantes being presented at court. His grandmother whispered innocent gossip to him between introductions. His mother appeared to ignore them, but she listened just the same.

On a snowy evening mid-season, Armitage Hux, a distant cousin of the tsar, returned from the west. Accompanying him was a peculiar Dr. Snoke. The tsarina was captivated by Dr. Snoke as though spellbound. She favored Dr. Snoke, going so far as to appoint him court physician.

Armitage took to strutting about every dinner and ball. He was obsessed with Dr. Snoke’s scientific experiments, discussing results in esoteric terms. He collected blood from the hares, foxes, and deer during hunting excursions. At first, Kylo assumed like everyone else it was for these experiments.

Then he found Armitage in Dr. Snoke’s laboratory with bloodstained lips, a beaker of fresh blood in his hand. In a frenzy, Armitage explained that blood wasn’t only a humor. It was the source of life.

You’d stopped him to ask why he’d been visiting Dr. Snoke’s lab. Kylo replied Dr. Snoke had wanted him to read a few books from his private collection. Dr. Snoke promised more knowledge than the tutors his mother hired. Naturally, Kylo had been intrigued.

Intrigued enough not to run from the laboratory.

Armitage showed Kylo a chart of his own making on the distillation of power — “a force connecting everything” — through the blood, from feeble insect to apex predator. Armitage was certain one could accumulate this power by devouring the essence of weaker creatures.

Kylo understood the logic, yet something about how Armitage explained it troubled him. With that reasoning, the most potent essence would be from their fellow man. That sounded taboo.

When he next saw Dr. Snoke, he mentioned Armitage’s alarming hypothesis. Displeasure flashed across Dr. Snoke’s face. Kylo thought he’d made a mistake by broaching the topic. However, Dr. Snoke explained he’d been putting off that lesson until Kylo had more scientific understanding.

In his arrogance, Kylo insisted he could grasp any lesson Dr. Snoke wished to teach.

He thought privately Armitage, who everyone knew to be a bastard, wouldn’t best him. It hardly mattered how many lies his father Brendol spouted. Brendol Hux hid some misfortune for the crown and used that fact to force his family upon the rest of the court.

Dr. Snoke promised Kylo wisdom beyond anything he’d been exposed to thus far. He asked when, and Dr. Snoke offered him an apprenticeship. Dr. Snoke would be journeying west once more in the spring. Kylo could join him.

His mother forbade it. She attempted to lure him into staying by introducing him to any debutante who would indulge her. She bargained. She cajoled. She bribed. When she remained unsuccessful, she turned their whole family against him. Their objections were all they’d discuss with him.

Towards the end of March, the ice broke on the river, and the snow started to melt. He left his family home in the small hours of the night. He met Dr. Snoke and Armitage at the harbor and boarded a ship headed for France.

At every port along the way, Dr. Snoke disappeared while Kylo and Armitage dined. He asked Armitage if he knew where Dr. Snoke went, but Armitage lied when he said he didn’t. Apprehension kept Kylo from asking Dr. Snoke directly.

Kylo said he realized much later he had asked Snoke, but Snoke made him forget.

In Gothenburg, he gathered the courage to follow Dr. Snoke. He feigned a sour stomach to avoid dinner. The sun had just fallen below the horizon. Townspeople lit their outdoor lanterns. None appeared to notice Dr. Snoke trekking through the streets, which seemed improbable since the doctor was exceptionally tall and dressed in foreign garb.

Dr. Snoke turned down a side street as if he were familiar with the city. Kylo waited at the corner to observe Dr. Snoke halt at an open gate. Dr. Snoke’s demeanor went from innocent visitor to ravening fiend in the blink of an eye. His shoulders hunched. His hands became claws. His shaved head suddenly reminded Kylo of a vulture.

Dr. Snoke darted through the gate. Kylo expected to hear the scuffling of feet or a scream, but there was only silence.

Kylo ran to the gate to find no one. He turned first to where he’d come from, then down the street. Both sides were deserted. He didn’t understand. No one simply disappeared.

He took a step forward to investigate. The lifeless body of a girl hit the stones before he could take another. Her dark braids wreathed the splatter of gore. Her joints bent at wrong angles. He stumbled backwards, heel catching. Strong hands caught his shoulders and spun him.

He found himself staring into the red, hypnotic eyes of Dr. Snoke.

“I see you couldn’t stay on the ship,” said Dr. Snoke, who tilted his head like a great hunting cat.

Kylo saw his fangs for the first time.

“And now you wonder if Armitage has known all along.”

Which was true.

“He has,” Dr. Snoke said, sliding his hands to Kylo’s neck and turning down the collar of his overcoat. “So, tell me, are you in danger?”

Tears welled in Kylo’s eyes as he whispered, “I’ve always been in danger.”

“Too right.”

Dr. Snoke struck then. His sharp teeth pierced Kylo’s jugular and drank deep. Kylo felt the sinful pull in his groin. Despite that, he shoved at Dr. Snoke’s chest. It was as though he’d lost his strength. He felt like a pup taking on a bear.

He opened his mouth to protest, though no sound came.

Dr. Snoke held him tight, pressed him to the nearest brick wall, and ground between his legs. Kylo’s gorge rose, but his body didn’t have the strength to heave.

He knew he was dying. Dr. Snoke was killing him. Dr. Snoke would use him until there’d be no more. A spark of anger flared in his gut. He balled his hands into fists and struck Dr. Snoke. His furious heart hammered behind his ribs. This wasn’t supposed to be his death. He wouldn’t end here.

He croaked broken words, groaning at the effort.

Dr. Snoke withdrew with a chuckle, blood trickling down his chin.

“Such resolve! Such strength!” He grasped Kylo’s chin. “You think you have the stamina, Young Solo?”

This was what Armitage had spoken of. There was power in the blood. Dr. Snoke had discovered a way to harness it. He had kept the truth behind Armitage’s collecting blood and his own scientific experiments hidden. They’d lied to him.

Kylo snarled.

Lovingly, Dr. Snoke said, “Beautiful beast,” and smiled, bloody teeth flashing.

Dr. Snoke unsheathed his blade and slit his own wrist. Blood, dark like a desiccated rose, oozed from the cut. The scent of it familiar and ancient.

He watched his hands bring the wound to his mouth. Blood smeared over his bottom lip and poured into his mouth like scalding rain. He dissolved into unknown pleasure, torn apart as if ravaged. He was destroyed and built anew with Dr. Snoke’s blood.

He experienced everything at that moment: the metal taste on his tongue, the hint of spring in the air, the way their hearts synchronized for a second, the emptiness of his veins, the magic in the blood permeating every fiber of his being.

It happened so quickly it was dizzying. It was a taste, then a fact.

The infinite stretched out before him, all possibilities spread like the fan of playing cards on a table.

He’d told you Dr. Snoke became simply Snoke and Armitage had been satisfied as an unaging thrall. When you’d asked what happened to Snoke and Armitage, Kylo replied he didn’t know. He’d escaped Snoke’s clutches decades earlier.

He’d said how grateful he was to have found you: a comfort like he’d never known. His eyes had been so warm.

Yet his eyes weren’t warm when he’d caught you.

You pushed at him, but Kylo’s grip was unyielding. Your protests only inspired him to strengthen his hold. He gripped your jaw to open your mouth. You mewled as he teased your tongue with his own. It knocked the breath from your lungs, as it always did.

The hard length of his cock against your hip made you shiver. Maybe shudder. You wanted him, yet you shouldn’t. He was terrifying, yet putty in your hands. He was a killer, yet wanted to be your weapon.

Gentle fingers crawled under the loose hem of your shirt, brushing the skin above your waistband. His arm tensed. He was going to tear you open, claw at your tender belly.

You thrashed to get away before he could.

Kylo broke the kiss and tightened his hold on your jaw.

“Stop this, or I’ll give you a fucking you can’t walk away from.”

Your breath seized. He meant— He wouldn’t— Oh God, yes, he would. He would force his cock in your ass and drink your blood until you passed out. While he’d never done that to you, he’d done it to one of Armitage’s lackeys. He’d said it was for a transgression.

You’d gone beyond a simple transgression. You’d been running from Kylo for over two years.

“Kylo, please,” you said as your vision blurred with tears. “Please, just let me go.”

You knew he wouldn’t.

He pulled away.

You teetered from a lack of support and weakened legs. He caught your upper arm and shoved you against the wall. You braced yourself on bent arms. The bricks’ texture caught at your shirt and palms. The scent of wet stone and musty mildew invaded your nose.

He cradled your hips and asked, “Let you go…?”

His lips caressed your neck, dragging up your skin. You wanted to flinch from his touch, but he moved down until his forehead rested on your shoulder.

“How many times must we go through this? This game of cat-and-mouse?”

A hand slid up your side and rounded your ribs to cup a breast. You closed your eyes as a frisson of pleasure had your nipple tightening.

“How many people must I go through for you to see we can’t be separated?”

He squeezed your breast just this side of too harsh. You bit your lip. His other hand wended around your waist.

“How many times do I need to fuck you for that to sink in, hm? Surely by now you understand your place.”

He released your breast to tug at the button of your jeans.

Your eyes flew open as you pushed at his hand.

“Kylo, no.”

“Yes,” he hissed. “You need to accept it.”

He undid your jeans and spread the fly.

You realized you’d been a fool to think you could get away. You’d been a fool to believe he wasn’t still Snoke’s, that your love alone would change his heart.

You batted at his forearms, then gripped his wrists. He didn’t budge at your scrabbling hands. He barely reacted to them. Instead, he brushed his lips against the side of your neck.

You stiffened, anticipating the bite of fangs.

“I can’t, I can’t— Kylo, I don’t— I never wanted—”

You’d only wanted the person behind the monster.

It was a tragedy they were one and the same.

Kylo stilled, his lips a scant centimeter from your skin.

You stilled. Your words had been a mistake. Just like leaving him behind had been a mistake. And the most egregious mistake: getting involved with him in the first place.

Despite that being true, Kylo was correct about never wanting to hurt you. He never had. He could and had hurt others, but never you. He’d bitten you, drank your blood, gripped your hips hard when he took you.

But he didn’t hurt you.

In fact, he made you feel good. He made you writhe and moan with blinding, white-hot pleasure. Your mind went blank when he thrust his thick, monstrous cock into you. That might be worse than any fist or fang. Pain you could get over, but pleasure not as easily.

He whispered, “I think you need a reminder of where you belong, sweetness.”

Those words reverberated you into the past. That night had been like this one: quiet, starless, and calm. Until it wasn’t.

The world had tilted on its axis when someone threw you into an SUV while you’d been checking your mailbox after work. Terror choked off your screams before they even gagged you. Rope looped around your wrists and ankles tight enough to bruise.

A long-fingered hand seized your chin and made you meet blue eyes as the vehicle started moving. The man would’ve been handsome with his angular face and long ginger hair if not for the contemptuous sneer marring his full lips. His gray suit was Savile Row crisp, and his black Chelsea boots gleamed in the overhead light.

“Ren’s precious little blood-whore,” he spat and threw your head to the side, where it bounced against the back of the bench seat.

“You sure about this?” the driver asked.

“He will capitulate for this one. Snoke foresaw it.”

At the name “Snoke,” you wiggled away until your back hit the door. Your kidnapper appeared bored and pulled a pistol from his jacket. He braced his arm between the seat and his chest to aim at your face.

You looked from the steady pistol to his face and back again.

“Listen well, you stupid slut,” he said. “You are in no position to escape. You chose this the moment you let that fool into your life.”

You wanted to protest that you hadn’t let Kylo into your life. He’d slithered in on his own.

A tiny voice replied, And you let him stay.

You had. You’d done nothing to stop him, even after it was apparent what a monster Kylo could be.

You’d curled into the corner to stare out the SUV’s tinted windows. They’d tied the knots at the back of your hands, so you couldn’t reach them. You certainly wouldn’t dare bring them to your mouth to work them open with your teeth.

When the SUV stopped, they manhandled you through an abandoned convenience store. In the stockroom, a bald man sat at a bare card table. Scars like melted wax trailed down one side of his face. He wore a gold smoking jacket, loose slacks, and velvet loafers. You nearly laughed. He looked like a Hugh Hefner cosplayer. The only thing missing was a white captain’s hat.

A hand on your shoulder forced you to sit in the folding chair across from him. When you met the bald man’s eyes, any witty remark died in your mouth. His gaze was too intense, too stern, too disapproving — and too ancient.

This was Snoke.

The gag fell from your face.

“You saw Kylo Ren yesternight, did you not?” he asked mildly.

His voice rumbled like strange thunder. He breathed in as if he could taste you on the air, like a snake senses prey.

Despite your mouth being freed, you could only bob your head.

“Yes, of course. Quite understandable now why it’s so difficult for him.” Snoke’s expression turned forgiving as he leaned over his crossed legs. “You are quite the delectable temptation.”

Your gut twisted and toes curled in your shoes at the compliment. You didn’t want to be a temptation for Snoke, nor did you want him sampling any part of you.

Crashing chaos erupted from the storefront. People screamed. Cracked steel and shattered glass exploded through the open door.

You launched yourself to the cold concrete floor, bringing your bound wrists to your mouth. The metallic pop-pop-pop of gunfire snapped overhead. You bit at the first knot and pulled. Hot bullet casings clanked nearby. The knot gave way to the next. You wrenched the next one loose, then shook your hands until the rope slipped from your wrists.

A tide of black vapor surged into the storeroom. It blinded you, but it didn’t stop you from groping for your restrained ankles. The rope there made no sense. You couldn’t find the knots.

Come on! you yelled at yourself, finding the knots. Come on!

You twisted and gritted your teeth and almost cried when you couldn’t undo them.

Light returned to the room as the vapor converged into a figure with broad shoulders and long legs. Unmistakably Kylo. It was the first time you’d remembered seeing him do something like that.

However, you couldn’t focus on him. He was fine. On the other hand, you had to free yourself and escape.

Black boots planted themselves on the floor, spread hip-width apart. Yards beyond them lay the lifeless body of your kidnapper, his head rotated at an unnatural angle. That lovely ginger hair veiled his closed eyes.

You pulled your gaze away to untie the knots.

“Ah, Kylo Ren,” Snoke said warmly. “Thank you for honoring my summons for once.”

Kylo replied with a tight, “Master.”

As quietly as you could, you pulled the knots loose and unwrapped your ankles. Snoke and Kylo had to have known you were still alive, but you didn’t want Snoke directing his attention to you. Nor did you want to distract Kylo.

Snoke’s voice sounded as though he had multiple voice boxes when he ordered, “Come. Kneel.”

Kylo staggered to Snoke and dropped to his knees.

Your mouth went dry. Your heart beat double-time. You were about to witness Kylo’s death. Snoke would take his head and drain you dry. Or worse: make Kylo kill you.

You couldn’t let either of them do that. You wouldn’t allow Snoke to torture him like that. Not like this. Not ever.

Even if it meant not being with Kylo again.

You eased to your knees and crept around your chair. Kylo’s back was to you, but Snoke faced the door. There was no way to leave without Snoke seeing.

“Where are you going, myshonok?” Snoke asked.

You went rigid, one knee hovering above the floor.

“Join me at the table.”

If you sat, what horrors would you witness? What would he make you do? How angry was he?

“Sit.”

“No,” Kylo ordered. “Ru—”

Snoke silenced him with a blow.

Kylo’s head jerked back, blood arcing from his face.

You gasped, already on your knees.

“I said,” Snoke repeated. “Sit.”

You were in the chair before you made the decision to stand. Your brain filled in the gaps: you stood, took the necessary steps to come around the chair, and sat.

“Stay. Be quiet.”

You glanced at Kylo. Blood bisected his cheek and tracked to his forehead. You waited for the cut to heal, but it didn’t. It just bled.

That didn’t make sense.

“Kylo Ren, I’ll give you a choice — like I do in all things,” Snoke said lightly, as if he hadn’t just wounded his progeny. “You can erase your presence from her mind, you can kill her, or you can turn her.”

“No, Master, don’t—”

“You’ve forced my hand in this matter. She knows too much.”

Kylo was quiet for a moment, then:

“If I take her memory, you’ll leave her in peace.”

“Her, yes.”

You mentally screamed for him to refuse. Snoke agreed to you being left alone, but not Kylo. You couldn’t allow Snoke to take him from you.

You willed through Snoke’s hold to say, “Turn me, Kylo, change me. Just don’t go, don’t let him—”

Snoke said, “You belong to him. It’s not your decision.”

The hell it wasn’t.

You wanted to race for the street, get away from them both, yet your feet wouldn’t obey. You gripped the seat of your chair hard enough your fingers went numb.

To Kylo, he said, “Do it.”

You shook your head as Kylo shuffled closer.

Please don’t do this. Please snap out of it. Please, please, please…

A single metallic pop rang through the storeroom. Kylo cried out, gripping his shoulder, and toppled against the table. Another pop. Snoke’s expression went from smug to shocked. Blood burst from his chest.

Snoke’s hold disappeared.

Kylo yelled, “Go! Run!”

You threw yourself out of the chair and sprinted through the store. Broken bodies, warped metal shelves, and shards of glass littered the floor. You sidestepped and leapt over each obstacle, not allowing your gaze to linger on any of it.

“Kylo!” Snoke bellowed and continued in a language you didn’t understand.

You couldn’t leave Kylo back there, though, bleeding and at the mercy of his maker.

Kylo yelled for you to go again.

You ran out of the convenience store and never looked back.

And you never stopped running.

Because nowhere was safe — not with Snoke out there and Kylo potentially under his control.

Kylo now sucked harshly at your neck, claiming you. Your thighs trembled as a big hand snaked inside your underwear to caress your belly. You couldn’t help but arch into his touch.

“Spread those legs for me.” He gripped the curve of your belly, fingers teasing your pubic hair. “I’ll remind you of your place.”

He cupped your mound. Two fingers dipped into your slit. It was mortifying to feel yourself slick.

He chuckled low in his chest.

“You’re going to moan for me.”

You shook your head and hid your face. You didn’t want him to see how you bit your lip to stifle your voice.

He pushed two thick fingers inside your cunt, filling and stretching. You gasped. It had been too long. He murmured soothing words against your neck while he massaged you from the inside. His palm pressed against your clit.

You tried not to move, to quiver, to make a sound. You told yourself it shouldn’t feel so good. You should push him away and run.

His other hand slid up your torso to cup one of your breasts. This time, he was gentle. The fingers inside you pumped slowly while he massaged your breast and teased the nipple. You were caressed, from the full lips nuzzling at your neck to the patient hand between your legs.

Kylo knew your body too well, and you hadn’t experienced his touch in so long. It haunted your lonely hours. Your own touch hardly compared.

“You’ll whimper my name and ask for more.”

He scissored his fingers to stretch your needy cunt.

You nearly asked him for more right there, but he continued:

“And you’ll come on my cock when I give it to you, won’t you?”

You jerked in his hold. He answered by pushing forward to grind the mound of his erection against your ass. He dragged the tips of his fangs over your skin, nipped at the sore spot he’d already sucked there, before placing the softest kiss.

“Exactly like you always do, my sweet.”

He pulled his hand from between your legs.

You opened your mouth to protest. He moved quicker than any human to turn your head, fingers wet with your juices, and silenced you with a kiss. His tongue swiped across yours, warm and exhilarating. You returned the kiss and tunneled your fingers into his thick hair, brushing the subtle point of his ear. He plunged his hand into the front of your underwear again.

Unerringly, he found your clit and swirled hypnotic circles around it. Your pussy became wetter by the second, easing the glide of his fingers.

Against your parted lips, he said, “That’s how it’ll always be.”

But you weren’t Kylo’s blood-whore. Your kidnapper had been wrong. They all were wrong about you.

Kylo kissed you, claiming and deep and wrong and so filthy, you couldn’t mute a moan. He found a rhythm on your clit that made your cunt flutter and breath catch. You fisted his hair as you panted between sharp kisses.

You wanted to cover yourself and hide when his lips curled in a knowing grin.

You tore your mouth from his.

“Stop,” you said, though it didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.

He ignored you, his clever fingers sending sparks of pleasure down your spine.

“I don’t… I can’t—” You clenched your jaw as your thighs quaked and muscles tensed. You were so close, orgasm building. “Kylo, I— I’m…”

He slipped his hand from your underwear, leaving you desperate for relief. Your cunt weakly pulsed as your orgasm died. You panted and let your forehead fall against the damp wall. Your combined shadows stained the concrete.

Kylo held your heaving ribs. He trailed delicate kisses along your nape. It was at once a connection and a reminder he could tear your spine out.

Wet fingers traced your bottom lip. You smelled the tang of your own arousal and clenched your teeth.

Kylo nosed at your ear to whisper, “I want to taste you on your tongue.”

You’d done that for him countless times. It drove him mad. He’d suck your flavor off your tongue while moaning and grinding his hips. He’d hold you tight while growling praises in your ear and working his big cock deep inside.

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes closed, despite knowing you’d ultimately lose this war. The only thing you could do was oppose his every pleasure in this last battle.

“Why are you still fighting me, sweetness?” he asked.

Your breath went uneven and your chest trembled.

You didn’t want to say it, didn’t want to tell him, didn’t want to fight him—

But Snoke.

Snoke was out there. He’d force Kylo to ruin what you two had.

The thought made tears flood your eyes and stream down your cheeks. When you sobbed, Kylo pushed two fingers between your teeth and pried open your jaw. You didn’t have to see it to sense his heated gaze. Kylo always — always — watched you.

The taste of salt and blood and musk coated your mouth. You refused to participate, remaining still as his fingers explored your tongue. Every measured stroke of his fingers tantalized — and aroused — no matter how much you denied it.

He withdrew his fingers and asked, “Why are you fighting me?”

“Please, don’t…”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t take me back to Snoke.”

Kylo nuzzled your cheek and shushed you. He kissed away your tears as slick digits smeared against your lips.

Your breath shuddered around a powerful unease expanding in your gut. You’d been foolish to think you’d get away. This was only delaying the inevitable. Kylo was toying with you. No doubt he had every intention of dragging you in front of Snoke where they’d decide your fate.

You were Kylo’s, and Kylo was Snoke’s. It was in the blood. Not even bleeding yourself dry would grant you a reprieve. The connection you had with Kylo wouldn’t fade, even with death.

“I can’t take you back to Snoke.”

“What? He’ll hunt—”

“No, he won’t.”

You half-turned to look into Kylo’s dark eyes and found him undaunted.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m Master now.”

His eyes flared red, brighter than before.

You shook your head. What had happened in the time you’d been gone? Why hadn’t he told you from the start? Why had he hurt everyone around you?

“His power resides in me alone,” Kylo said. “And now I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”

Not giving you time to form a question or voice it, he put his hand around your throat and crashed his lips against yours. Flesh ground against bone. His fingertips bruised. You were the meat to his butcher.

He groaned after a moment, as though relishing the near violence.

“Open.”

This time, you did.

He kissed you tenderly, sucking on your swollen bottom lip. His fangs grazed your skin. He flicked your tongue with his. You shivered at the silken touch of his preternatural tongue.

He made a satisfied sound deep in his chest at the taste of your arousal.

“Where is your place in this, sweetness?”

You blinked through the haze in your mind. You couldn’t form a reply.

“I…”

With a merciful shush, he turned you to face away. You placed your palms on the dirty wall. His hands caressed your sides until his thumbs hooked in the waistband of your underwear.

He couldn’t— Not here—

The haze fractured.

“No, Kylo, we can’t!”

He pressed you hard against the wall and put a hand across your mouth. Your underwear and jeans continued to slip down your hips.

“We can. I own the night and everything in it.”

Which included you.

Your lower body followed his as he straightened until your back was a perfect arch. The clammy air whispered between your legs, cooled your inner thighs. He kicked your feet farther apart.

Your eyes widen. He was going to take you like this, for anyone to see.

Your breath hitched at the press of his fingers at your soaked hole. He teased with swirling touches. You tried to keep your hips still, because moving was agreeing. It was acquiescing.

Kylo slid two fingers inside. Your cunt clenched around the intrusion. He purred and encouraged you to rest your head on his shoulder. He pushed deeper, slowly cycling his fingers. You rotated your knees inward, though you couldn’t fathom how your legs kept you upright.

His fingers retreated and pressed in, languid and thorough, as if trying to touch every part of your cunt. You turned your head to lean your forehead on his jaw.

He braced himself with a hand on the wall. You touched the back of his hand with shaking fingers. The fingers inside you sped.

You gasped, then bit the inside of your cheek.

“It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” he asked. “Your sweet little pussy isn’t used to this.”

You bit harder. You could only focus on his fingers fucking you open. He twisted his hand until his knuckles rubbed over your g-spot. You squirmed and swallowed a whimper.

“Let go, let me hear you. It’s just me and you here.”

“Ky-Kylo, please! Don’t— I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.”

A third finger eased inside to stretch you even more. Bolts of hot pleasure had you losing your breath. His fingers moved in measured thrusts, over and over. You clung to the wall as your knees almost buckled.

Then he pulled away. You twitched back to follow him or encourage him to continue. Full lips brushed your temple. His big hands took hold of your hips and raised you onto your toes.

“Just like that.”

Your heart leapt into your throat. He was going to take you here. If you tried to flee, he’d catch you within two strides.

Did you want to flee, though?

His touch left your body, giving you the opportunity. The metallic sound of his zipper opening held you in place. It had been too long. The weight of your connection to Kylo fixed you to the spot.

Heat smeared across your inner thigh. Knuckles brushed the underside of your ass. Then the thick tip of his cock parted your folds. You arched your back further, knowing what was coming.

Yet it didn’t come.

Kylo kept sliding his cock in your slit. He teased your stretched hole and the exposed bud of your clit. He did it until you rocked with him.

“Your place has always been in my bed.” He pressed his hard chest to your back. “Will always be. Beside me. With me.”

Your vision swam. The bricks blurred.

“Don’t ever forget it.”

A voluptuous pressure at your entrance made your eyes go wide. Hot tears spilled over your cheeks. You didn’t know how to respond, though you’d never forget his words.

Without warning, Kylo snapped his hips to impale you halfway down his cock. Beyond your control, a choked animal noise left your chest to resound through the empty alley. The bricks’ rough texture scraped your forearms and palms. Your body contracted around the heavy intrusion splitting you open.

Lips flitted along the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Just like this,” he murmured against your skin.

You groaned his name.

Kylo tensed and latched his hands to your hips and surged forward. He buried his cock completely in your pulsing cunt, pelvis tight to your ass.

You threw your head back with a piercing gasp.

He growled like the predator he was.

It was too much. It was like the first time with him. Every nodule on his cock woke nerves long asleep. You panted and shimmied and squirmed as your body acclimated. Each minute movement only added to your growing anticipation.

He gritted out, “Just like this — wrapped around my dick.”

He drew back. You protested with a small noise. He drove forward to start a brutal pace that had your vision narrowing and the edges darkening.

“Filled with my come.”

You trembled with every thrust. Your cunt got impossibly wetter with his words. He must’ve known, must’ve felt how they made you clench. Just like you knew your body — and heart — would accept him.

It had never hurt, and a part of you hated that. You hated how your body obeyed Kylo’s command. You hated how natural it was to kiss him, how easy your lips slotted with his. You hated how he fit so sublimely in you.

It was like you’d been made for him.

He angled his thrusts, somehow hitting even deeper, stroking every sensitive spot between your legs. The hands on your hips tightened as he pounded into you harder.

You moaned and pushed back. He hissed a “yes” and found that perfect rhythm. Your head spun. You clawed at the bricks while he continued an unrelenting assault.

You swallowed gasps and cut off another moan. One of his hands swooped to your jaw, tilting it up, stretching your neck.

“Don’t hide from me. Ever.”

Your breath caught.

“No, promise.”

His voice was black silk when he said, “Taking it so well. Such a good girl.”

You almost replied you wanted to be good for him. Only him.

He must’ve sensed it, because he stopped.

“No, don’t,” you said.

“Tell me. Tell me you feel it, too. Tell me.”

Tell me tell me tell me…

“I do! I feel it!” You shook your head as much as he’d let you. “Please, don’t— Please, I… I want to be good for you!”

Kylo groaned and tucked his face into your shoulder. His cock throbbed. He was going to bite you now. You knew it, could feel it.

His front teeth jabbed into your shoulder through your shirt. His fangs were so close. You hadn’t felt the sting and pull from his bite in so long.

You writhed in what you hated to admit was anticipation. At the same time, you mentally begged him to do it. Put you out of your misery. End the chase, the uncertainty, the killings. End you, if that was the culmination of this war.

He cursed and wrenched the collar of your shirt away. Stitches popped. Fangs pierced the juncture of your neck — a momentary pain. Hot suction followed, connecting your neck to your dripping, aching cunt. It gilded the coiling, molten pleasure building in your core.

He released your hip and plunged his hand between your legs. You bucked your lower body at the touch, torn between his hand and inhuman cock.

Then he began to thrust. He stroked your clit and sucked at your neck. You felt every mouthful of blood drawn from your veins, every slick-slide of his fingers on your clit, every harsh pump of his cock.

He worked your body, even as your muscles locked. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The tension and pressure built until you thought you’d explode with it.

But you didn’t.

You shook with each punishing thrust as he fucked you into a devastating orgasm. It burned through you like liquid fire. Wave after wave pulled you into its surge. Your mouth fell open with a silent scream. You couldn’t breathe. Heavy tears streamed down the outside of your face.

Kylo put a hand on your belly, smearing your come on your skin. His cock pistoned faster in your clenching cunt. He released your neck with a snarl. Warmth trickled over your collarbone.

“Kylo,” you mouthed.

He exhaled against your neck, breath tinged with iron.

“Plea—” Your voice broke. “Please, Kylo…”

“Please what?”

His soft tongue slithered over the tender puncture wounds.

Please, no more, you wanted to say. Please, don’t stop.

“Just… Please—”

Please take it all away.

He growled and snapped his hips forward. His pelvis slapped against your ass brutally — once, twice, three times. He buried his cock as deep as it would go before moaning. His cock pulsed. His come gushed, thick like honey, and filled you to overflowing. The warmth of it oozed down your thighs.

It was still for a brittle-edged moment.

Kylo placed his lips on your neck in a lewd mockery of a kiss. His breath puffed across your skin, as if his heart beat like a hammer. As if he had a heart.

You whispered, “Why do you keep hunting me?”

He wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Don’t you remember me saying I’d never let you go?”

Of course you did. However, people say that kind of thing in the throes of passion all the time. You assumed Kylo, despite being a vampire, was no different.

He said, “I call you my sweetness because you’re mine.”

His hands skimmed to your waist and steadied you as he eased his softening cock from your body. Your legs gave out, but he kept you from collapsing. You grabbed the bricks to catch yourself and leaned heavily on the wall, tilting out of Kylo’s hold.

Now that the sex was done, you yanked your underwear and jeans up over your hips. His syrupy come squished in your underwear and clung to the inside of your jeans. You cringed at the swampy feeling and the fact you’d let Kylo fuck you where anyone — everyone — could see.

The Knights of Ren couldn’t be far. They’d probably heard everything. Hell, they might’ve even watched.

You refastened your jeans and propped yourself against the wall in an attempt to muster a little dignity. It didn’t matter what stained your clothes now. They were already dirty with stress-sweat, come, and blood. Whatever garbage juice was splattered in the alley couldn’t make them grosser.

Kylo stood composed and less than a yard away, watching you. Always watching.

You resisted the urge to go to him and bask in his touch — the way he’d smooth your hair and cup your cheek. Like you were a beloved pet.

He’d made you his blood-whore.

The bite on your neck throbbed.

“I said I’m here to claim what’s mine. That still stands.”

You inhaled a stuttering breath and stared at his scuffed motorcycle boots.

“Snoke nearly took you from me,” he said. “You, who I want beside me every night.”

“But not forever.”

You were mortal. You would die. Time would end things, even if Snoke couldn’t anymore.

“Not forever if you keep running.”

You looked into his eyes that were the beautiful warm brown you adored. They went red. Your heart sped. They looked too much like Snoke’s.

“Stop running from me, sweetness.”

You blinked at the reverberating command. Your feet planted themselves to the concrete. You’d been running from Snoke, not Kylo. If Kylo told the truth, and Snoke really was dead, there was no point in running. You didn’t need to be apart from Kylo.

“You are everything good in my existence,” he said. “I refuse to be separated from you any longer.” He slashed at the air. “I won’t allow anyone to stand in my way.”

Not even you.

He’d made sure of that, too. Everyone you’d become friendly with in your mad dash from anyone vampiric had been killed. It’d been your fault. You’d acted like a spooked rabbit, running from burrow to burrow — and condemning every soul along the way.

He took a half-step closer.

“Am I not yours?”

“If you were mine, you’d know not to hurt people who’ve helped me.”

“Helped you?” He tilted his head with a huff. “Helped you? They allowed you to live in squalor.”

You let out a scornful laugh and crossed your arms over your chest.

Living in pre-furnished studio apartments or clean hostels wasn’t what you’d call squalor. It wasn’t a gothic castle overlooking a forested valley, either. Then again, no one you’d worked with lived in better conditions. Not even Vic, who only had a cozy one-bedroom.

Kylo held out a hand.

“Come with me. Let me give you what you deserve.”

You glanced at his broad palm and long, sturdy fingers. There was a time when those hands cradled you and loved you. There was a time when you didn’t know what they looked like covered in blood.

“I deserve peace,” you said.

“I can give you peace and safety. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You read between his lines. He’d give you anything as long as you stayed with him. If you explored the world on your own, you’d be exposed — as would he. You’d always be a weak point to exploit. You’d always be vulnerable. Snoke had figured that out.

You uncrossed your arms and looked into his eyes. Red encircled his irises, as though his vampire nature had been eclipsed.

“Give me your blood. Make me strong like you. Make me a vampire.”

He reared back as if you’d swiped at him. Astonishment painted his features.

“You want me to be your sire?”

“You want me beside you every night, don’t you?”

He breathed, “You love me.”

“Do you love me?”

He wet his bottom lip — such a human gesture — while his gaze darted to the side.

“I shouldn’t. It is a hindrance.” His dark eyes were like pools of deep water when they met yours. “You’ve seen what my kind do to each other.”

He indicated the scar going up his cheek. Snoke had missed ruining Kylo’s eye by millimeters.

You nodded and moved closer to touch the scar. It was a smooth, narrow groove in his blood-warmed flesh.

If Snoke had struck you like he’d stuck Kylo, it would’ve destroyed your jaw and cheekbone. You would’ve had implants and surgeries and weeks of speech therapy.

“I shouldn’t,” he repeated, and pressed your hand to his cheek.

“Neither should I.”

Not after all he’d done.

You’d hated him. You’d feared him. You thought about him every single day. You’d imagined different scenarios, from fighting him to falling at his feet to staking his heart.

He placed his other hand on your hip.

“No, you shouldn’t.”

You’d downplayed your feelings before Snoke had taken you. You’d told yourself you were satisfied with Kylo visiting a few nights every week. You had your freedom and privacy, a decent job and apartment, and a vampire lover. What more could you need?

Kylo lived in a different world, one he didn’t allow you to play tourist in. He’d said he wanted you to live a normal life. He wanted you happy and safe. At your insistence you were safe — and perfectly happy! — he exploded from the sofa where you two had been lounging. He’d flipped the coffee table and yelled you couldn’t possibly be either.

You’d ordered him out, telling him to leave and not come back until he wanted to behave. You hadn’t wanted to look at him right then. He’d rounded on you with a snarl, fangs flashing.

Then he’d been on you, kissing you, devouring you, tasting every inch of your body. He held you down and fucked you: on your knees, on your back, on the sofa, on the floor, on the upended coffee table, on your bed. You’d climaxed over and over again. He hadn’t stopped until dawn forced him to ground. You’d called in sick to work and sat in an epsom-salt bath for nearly an hour.

“I can’t leave this existence,” he now said. “I can’t leave you, either.”

“Then don’t.”

He shuffled you to the wall, his touch gentle. He always returned loving and tender, with sweet words and sweeter caresses.

“I’ll never let you go. I can’t.”

He grazed his fingertips across the clotting wound at your neck. You closed your eyes with a sigh. It should’ve stung, yet all you felt was him. He repositioned your hand from his cheek to his muscled shoulder. You slid your palm under the weight of his hair to hold his nape.

“Then don’t.”

You stared into his eyes, watching as red bloomed across his irises. It didn’t startle you any longer. The white of his delicate-tipped fangs gleamed. You drew him towards the wound and tilted your head back.

He made a desperate, hungry sound and wrapped you in his arms, supporting your head. You relaxed into his hold. Your breath shallowed.

This was the end. The end of running, of being scared, of the war you never wanted in the first place.

A faint star glimmered overhead — the lone witness to the ceasefire.

Kylo struck. He bit deeper than he ever had before. You gasped and clung to him as he drank the first mouthful. Your blood gushed with every beat of your heart.

Your feet left the ground. The night spun in a cacophony of dingy brick, velvet sky, and sodium lights. It spun and spun into a soft blur where nothing touched you and you touched nothing. Not even Kylo.

Liquid metal poured into your mouth, raging and carnal and animalistic. You swallowed. It was like swallowing a hot sea, like drowning. There was so much, too much. Energy filled you and flowed through you until you crashed against Kylo.

You opened your eyes and saw him as though it was the first time. You cradled his stunning face in your hands, his skin so new and electric. His eyes held all the warmth in the universe — its heat death quite improbable while he existed.

“I’m never letting you go,” you said, and kissed him.

[heyitsaloy]

In the Dead of Night

Naz’s House of Horrors - vampire!jason todd x gn!reader

tw: suggestive, sucking blood, and kissing with blood in mouth

Jason’s confession had left the room silent. The only sound entering the space was from the soft rhythmic pitter-patter of the rain. You nervously eyed the clock on the pale wall, it was past midnight. The room was dimly lit by an array of candles and it felt unsettling after Jason’s alarming admission. You toyed with your fingers, afraid.

You knew of Jason’s bloodsucking secret, but it had never crossed your mind that he would want a taste of you.

“Is it going to hurt,” you asked, your voice frail and just barely above a whisper. Your heart pounded hard against your ribcage, was this really happening.

“I’ll be gentle sweetheart,” Jason replied cradling your face in his palms. He stared into your eyes with a hunger you’d never seen before. His eyes were dark and their normal emerald shade was no longer visible. Jason gently ran his thumb across your bottom lip and you let out a deep sigh. He inched closer and you felt his hot breath fan your face as he placed a quick kiss against your lips.

“Promise,” you inquired once more, this time a little less hesitant. As much as you were terrified, you were also morbidly curious. What would it feel like to have a vampire feed off of you. Jason pecked your lips again and smiled softly, showcasing his sharp canines.

You turned your back towards him, slowly, trying not to make any sudden movements. Jason chuckled and pulled you flat against his chest. Your breathing picked up as the tip of his nose grazed your neck. He inhaled deeply before letting out a satisfying groan.

“You smell so good baby, do you know how long I’ve waited to do this,” his words ran a shiver down your spine and you clutched on to one of his calloused hands.

He took the finger of his free hand and ran it across the pulse on your neck. He licked a small line on your jugular and you squirmed against his chest. You felt Jason’s lips contorting into a small smirk.

“You’re doing so good,” he said kissing his saliva on your neck. He placed another tender kiss against your jaw and then found a sweet spot, right below your ear lobe, near the collarbone. He didn’t wait for a response and instead, punctured his fangs into your sensitive flesh. You gasped at the foreign feeling.

The taste of your sweet, metallic blood had Jason’s eyes rolling into the back of his head and he hummed in delight. He had never tasted something so pleasant before. You were intoxicating and addictive. He needed more.

Your hands found themselves tangled in his thick curls, yanking ever so slightly. You closed your eyes as a dull ache began to take over your body. You focused your attention on the warmth of his lips and you started to feel light headed, your body was slowly becoming limp.

Jason pulled back and you hissed at the pain. He grinned and dragged his finger along the puncture sight, scooping the blood that dripped out of the wound. He then brought his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean.

He gently turned your body to face him and you couldn’t help but stare at the bloodied mess on his lips. Jason looked unbelievably attractive and terrifying. He moved in closer and pulled you in for a kiss.

You could taste the residue of your blood on him as your tongue made its way into his mouth. He sighed against your lips and his hands travelled down to your waist. He let out a sweet sound into your mouth and he then pulled back, panting.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good.”

[heyitsaloy]

Orestes - Jason Todd

Prompt: “It’s rotten work.” “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

an: While I can appreciate fanon Jason, I prefer emotionally and romantically stunted canon Jason. Canon typical violence 

WC: 1079

The left side living room window was always unlocked. Slightly dangerous game in Gotham, but sacrifices had to be made. For him, you would take the gamble. It had been a few days without any sight of him. While this was not uncommon, the twisting in your gut followed his absence every single time. It was a persistent reminder of the ever-present danger he was in. So, the window remains unlocked. So, you pine. And you wait. 

You lay half-conscious on your couch, the TV bathing the living room in a faint blue light. Perfectly fitting of your melancholia. Then you had quite a startle. There was a gentle knock at the window. That was the sign that Jason couldn’t get in on his own. You jumped up, your heart jumping with you. You all but ran to the window to pull Jason inside. He swayed on his feet, his face obscured by that stupid helmet. 

The extensive first aid kit already lay prepped on the coffee table. You could run a medical clinic from your one-bedroom apartment. You got Jason to the couch as gently as possible, as gently as you could move a six-foot-200-pound man. He was almost completely dead-weight. 

With gentle hands, you moved to the sides of his helmet, pushing the release buttons and pulling it off. Jason’s face was ashen, his eyes glassy and unfocused—was it exhaustion or pain? You couldn’t tell.

“Hey, Jay.” You cradled his face, thumbs gently swiping the tops of his cheekbones, as you took in his damage. Multiple lacerations marred his skin and a bullet wound had torn open the flesh of his side. He closed his eyes and leaned into the point of connection. A black left eye too. 

“I’m sorry.” He was always sorry. Jason could never accept help without guilt. To you, it was an honor to be the one who he trusted, a fragile gift. Jason Todd’s trust was a rare commodity. You would give anything to make him quit, but he wasn’t him without the Red Hood. So you loved both of them. 

“Nothing to be sorry for. Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” With a pace so slow you appeared to be still, you peeled what remained of the blood-stained shirt off of Jason’s body. Your hand grazed the litany of puckered scars from previous gunshot wounds. Your eyes were always drawn to the y-shaped autopsy scar that ran down his chest. The scar in a crude letter J that lived near his clavicle. It wasn’t that Jason was fragile, far from it. How much could one person take? You did everything you could to take some of it from him - to carry it for him. 

You started the familiar process. Examine, clean, stitch. You pull the jagged edges of skin together with secure knots. If you didn’t have an iron will before, you do now. All the while, he clings to consciousness. You can finally breathe after the last suture is knotted and snipped. 

“Why do you do this for me?” Jason’s words disrupt the silence. 

“Am I supposed to leave you on the sidewalk?”

“Maybe.” You knew he believed that. He doesn’t believe in affection without strings. He had never known a healthy relationship model. You tried not to let it offend you when he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“I hate when you say shit like that. I do this because I can and I want to. I really want to. I’ll take care of you for as long as you’ll let me - might force you to endure it longer than that.” Jason did let his lips curl into a small smile at that. 

“Bed or couch?” 

“Bed.” His voice cracked, his words more of a croak.

This time, Jason was a bit sturdier on his feet and hobbled beside you to the bedroom. You slide into bed and turn over the sheet on his side. He slides into bed as gracefully as he can manage. His skin was painted an alarming purple against the stark white sheets. You remain a respectful distance away. Would you ever tell him you love him? Was it just one more thing for him to carry? You would like to think that your overwhelmingly fond demeanor had told him all he needed to know. So was his silence hesitance or rejection? 

It was faint at first, you could barely feel it. Sure enough, a pinkie interlocked with yours. You braved a look at Jason’s face. 

“Thank you.” His sincerity burned your skin. 

“Of course, any time.”

“That’s not what I meant. Thank you for everything. It’s hard for me to be…open. But, you meet me where I am at. You care.” His eye contact made you nervous. Jason is not world-renowned for his emotional honesty. His eyes continued to peer at you, waiting for your response.  

“I-Undoubtedly, I care. You find that hard to believe sometimes. But I do.” Jason turned on his (non-injured) side. He interlocked his fingers with yours, bringing both your hands to rest on the pillow in between your heads. He stared somewhere behind your head, losing what little bravado he had. 

“I think I love you. I think I do. I love you.” Jason blundered through his sentence while maintaining eye contact with the wall. His palm was sweaty. You could swear your heart was going to come out of your throat. 

With bravery you did not know you possessed, you put your hands to his face and brought his eyes to meet yours. It was moments like these that reminded you what Jason had lost. He looked like that 15-year-old boy, looking for validation in a foreign warehouse. And you adored him. 

“I love you, Jason. I know I do.” You both sat in the weight of your words. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really. Absolutely. Totally. Entirely.”

“It’s rotten work.” You wish he could quantify his self-worth. You don’t understand how someone you loved so utterly could loathe themselves. You would remind him, every day, if he let you. 

“Not to me, not if it’s you.” Jason bridged the gap between you, throwing his arm over your middle and pulling you close. 

“Can we stay like this for a while?” Embarrassment lingered in the red of his cheeks. You could feel the weight and warmth that radiated from his arm. It felt safe.

“Of course.” You let the man you loved hold you until you both fell asleep.

[heyitsaloy]

Jason's teeth are sharper than most people. Another funky gift from Lazarus Pit. He's not a full-blown Dracula, but there's a noticeable edge to his canines. There were times in throws of battle when Jason tore someone's flesh off with them chompers. Family dinners at Wayne Manor are a little awkward because everyone at the table is trying to have a normal conversation while they pretend like they don't notice the ease with which Jason is carving meat even using a steak knife. His smiles all the more feral, all the more dangerous. All better to sink into his cute girlfriend. Jason would never hurt you, of course, but he likes to put his mouth on you in all the ways possible and he knows you like it too. Whether it's gentle nibbles on your perfect little fingers that happen to appear in his line of vision, or slow, torturous scraping of his canines along the column of your throat to draw out all those delicious whimpers out of you. You lost count of how many panties and bras and stockings he destroyed because he just could not take them off. No, he has to rip them off with his teeth, shredding them in the process. He always promises to buy you new ones as he nuzzles longingly into your warmth. Speaking of bedroom adventures, he likes to take a generous bite of your ass whenever he's feeling really turned on, then is forced to apologize because you can't sit down without wincing and there's a perfect ring of teeth complete with four deep dentures on your buttcheek.

tags: @thinkingofausername