#I do want to write vore again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fiber-optic-alligator · 8 months ago

Text

Desperation vs. Domestication (Pt. 2)

Pairing: IDW Drift x Human Reader

WARNING: This story contains soft vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 4431

Summary: Though you have been lulled into a deep sense of security by Drift's kindness and comfort, you still haven't completely lost the need to be free. A terrible nightmare refuels your desire for escape...but Drift isn't someone who wants to let you go.

HEEHEEHEEHEE I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE A PART 2 OF THIS...so I did. It's because Drift is my all-time favorite Transformer and I absolutely LOVE putting my favorite characters through angst. If you enjoyed reading part 1, then I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Likes, comments, feedback, and reblogs are never expected, but always appreciated! Enjoy! :D

Here is the link to pt. 1 if you haven’t read it!

Also available to read on AO3!

Two months later…

You dream of Earth tonight.

There are fields; you are standing in one. Long Bermuda grass tickles your ankles with the gentle presence of the planet recognizing its own. The endless green is splattered with occasional droplets of color: pink poppies, yellow sunflowers, marigolds, dandelions. It is warm. There is a slight wind blowing, playing with your hair. You turn your face towards the sunlight and bask in the relief of knowing you are home.

All of a sudden, you hear a sound. Thumping. Steady, rhythmic. Loud. You feel the wind die down and suddenly the sun is gone, and there is only darkness. A massive shadow blots out all of the light. You see a figure looming over you, red-and-white with bright blue eyes that stare into your soul and make you feel terror.

You try to run, but find you cannot move your legs. There is nothing you can do when you watch a giant hand reach down in slow motion and pluck you up, holding you between titanic fingers. The monster’s mouth opens, and then you are tumbling down, right into an abyss of metal and isolation. The Earth melts away forever. You are trapped. You are alone.

Shooting forward out of your nightmare, you hear yourself scream. The squishy floor underneath you makes you lose your footing when you scramble upward in a blind panic and fall into Drift’s stomach wall. Everything moves, the organ grumbling unhappily at you being awake. Your hands scramble at the mesh cables. Little pink bubbles of cybernetic blood pop anxiously beneath their semi-transparent surfaces. The walls close in to squeeze, holding you in a secure hug, attempting to keep you still. But you cannot think. You are scared, and you feel trapped, so you desperately begin to thrash and fight against the stomach.

Drift’s voice booms above you, panicked. “Little one? Little one?!”

“Let me go!” you shriek. “Please, letmegoletmegoletmego!”

The walls loosen up, freeing you. You collapse into the fetal position, gasping while sweat beads your brow and your heart goes crazy.

Drift presses his hands over his middle. “Little one, little one, shhhh, shh, shh, shh,” he hushes frantically. “Safe, safe…safe, all is safe...no need for fear…”

Gradually, you calm down. Only when you are no longer trembling does Drift tentatively begin to squeeze you again. In and out, slow kneading, like he’s silently coaxing you to continue breathing at a healthier pace. “Little one…okay?” he asks.

Your voice quivers. “I-I’m fine. I’m okay. It-It was a bad dream. A nightmare.” You sit upright and lean into the stomach wall. Drift holds you close, the undulating muscle relaxing you with its constant massage. His biolights pulse and flicker, a clear sign of his stress. You woke him up with your screams. It makes you feel bad, so you snuggle his cables further. The robot’s stomach is not a big place, but Drift likes to be conscious of you. The support you provide him in completing this task is obviously appreciated, because he hums softly and pats his hand over where you are.

There is peace again. Peace and warmth. But you don’t feel the usual safety. There is a lingering pit of dread growing deep within your gut, foul roots clawing their way through your body, leaving you jittery, uneased. Your nightmare is the first one in months, and it’s a sure sign things are not right.

It has been such a long time since you thought of your possible escape plan. You don’t know how long, but you do know that you can’t be comfortable here anymore. Your mind is sending the signals loud and clear.

No more stalling, you think to yourself. No more being complacent.

You are not domesticated yet.

When Drift lets you out of here…you will go through with the plan to take an escape pod home. For real this time.

It takes you weeks to perfect your plan. And when you do finally have it all figured out, you come to the conclusion that things may end up being more complicated than you thought. Escaping a spaceship filled with giant alien robots is hard enough, yes. But then there’s the issue of what will happen when you return to Earth. You don’t know how long you’ve been abducted. It could be months. It could be years. What if all of your family and friends are long gone by the time you get home? What if things are so different that you’ve been completely left behind?

No. You can’t think like that. A sharp patting to your cheeks snaps you out of it. Keep it together. This is the moment you have been waiting for. Regardless of what awaits you on Earth, you will be there to face it.

You’ve packed everything you own into a small fabric knapsack your mech gifted you during your first days here (Who knew robots are such good knitters?). It’s not much, not much at all: snacks Drift gives you, strange pellets that clean your teeth, three cans of filtered water…but that’s all you really require for the trip you are going to embark on. You don’t believe it will be particularly long. The escape pods need to have some sort of device that allows them to leap through lightyears to their destinations. You believe this because you’ve watched the mothership do it from the observation windows Drift likes to bring you to sometimes. Hyperspace will occasionally be activated, with stars and planets blurring together into dazzling white paint streaks before coming to an abrupt halt in a totally new galaxy.

Now, do you know how lightjumping works? Absolutely not. Last time you were on Earth, no such human technology had been invented yet. So you don’t exactly know how you’ll get the escape pod to lightjump like the ship does. But you’ll find a way. You have no choice.

Now for the hard part: getting away from Drift long enough to activate the escape pod and blast away. He’s not going to make it easy for you. Drift doesn’t like letting you out of his sight if you aren’t in his room, and hardly lets you roam free. You’ve spent hours, both within his stomach and out, pondering how to go about this. It’s left you with the agonizing decision that you’ll just have to wing it somehow.

The door to his room slides open. You’ve been sitting on his berth with your hands beneath your head and one leg crossed over the other, thinking, thinking, thinking, that at first you nearly didn’t hear him come in. You sit up to greet him with more eagerness than you’d like to show. The nightmare didn’t stop your affection for Drift from rearing its persistent head.

There’s no waiting for him to give you his time today. When he enters the room, his focus is immediately on you with no prior distractions. Drift walks with a spring in his step, his finials perking up like an enthusiastic dog. You notice a small white box he holds in one hand, and think nothing of it. Drift’s room is decorated with countless knickknacks from other planets. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s brought some strange little souvenir home.

“Hey, big guy,” you murmur happily when he kneels down before you. He settles the box to the side and cups both hands behind you, humming his typical car engine-purr greeting. You hug him when he draws you forth so he can nuzzle his nose into your middle. “I’m guessing you missed me?”

Drift beep-boops excitedly. He gives you an affectionate tickle to your side, causing you to giggle. Your reaction delights him. He keeps it up, and pretty soon you are laughing so hard your stomach hurts. “D-Drift, s-stop! I-I can’t breathe!”

He gives you one last light prod, then ends the bout of torture with more cuddles. You recover from the laughter, feeling airy and light like nothing else matters except for the giant robot holding you.

“Little one,” he coos. “My little one.”

“Mhm,” you mumble goodnaturedly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m yours.”

He suddenly looks like he’s remembered something very important, and he straightens, chirping rapidly. You watch as he grabs the white box and, to your surprise, presents it to you. You glance at it, then turn to him. “For me?” you ask, pointing at yourself.

He chirps again and nods.

You take it from him and open it with a slight air of confusion, because he’s never given you something like this before. You think it might be a piece of jewelry, or some sort of charm. But what you see inside is neither of those things. You suck in a sharp breath of pure disbelief and go numb.

It’s a collar. A damn collar. Sleek and narrow, its solid red with a single white stripe circumnavigating it. On one side is a strange symbol of a boxy red robot’s face-the same symbol he has on his chest. These are his colors, you realize. He’s making us match. He wants the other mechs to know that he owns you.

Drift rumbles expectantly. When you remain frozen, unable to pry your eyes away from the collar, he gently pries it out of your now slightly shaking hands. With extreme carefulness, he clasps it around your neck. It fits comfortably and locks with a quiet click.

“My little one,” he repeats. “Mine.”

He’s not trying to scare you. You know he isn’t. Yet your throat is dry, and the snug weight of the collar makes you feel sick.

You need to get the hell off of this ship.

You spend the night feverishly trying to break the collar off, working yourself up like a caged animal driven mad by captivity. But no matter how hard you yank at it, it remains stubbornly fast around your neck. You refuse to eat the food given to you and cry yourself to sleep within a very concerned Drift’s belly, who can’t seem to console you no matter how hard he tries.

Drift doesn’t know what to do with you.

You’ve been moping ever since he gave you the collar. Over the next few days, any sort of drive to escape has left you. You're depressed and disappointed in him for what he’s done. You don’t want to talk to him. You don’t want to accept any of his gifts. Blanket after pillow after plushie-all made by him, with the crude markings of homemade love-are ignored. You shy away from his touch and reject his attention. When he swallows you at night, you give him no inclination you care. You sit like a stone within him and just…stare off vacantly, unable to ignore the collar around your neck.

He’s brought you to the ship’s doctor multiple times. On the first trip, the old red medic bot looked you over and finished his checkup with a shrug and dismissive chuff. The second time, he growled at Drift and waved him away. And on the third time, he didn’t even let him through the door. There’s nothing physically wrong with you. But mentally, how could they know? How could he know he’s hurt you? You trusted him to treat you with some level of respect despite your situation, and he had, until now. The collar was your breaking point. There truly is no way for him to ever see you as anything more than a pet, and it hurts you, because by god, you love him.

“…Little one?”

Drift calls out to you with a soft, sad tone. You huddle up tighter beneath one of your blankets and give no answer.

You hear him shift at his desk. There’s silence between the two of you that is not wanted. He heaves a low sigh and tries again. “Little one…please?”

Damn your heart, you can’t keep giving him the silent treatment when he sounds like he’s about to cry.

You push the blanket off of your head. Drift slouches in his chair, back bent like an old man’s. His finials are drooping, and the glow from his biolights is dimmer than usual. He’s obviously been letting his personal hygiene go for the sake of finding a way to help you, and it hurts to know he’s in this state because of your shitty attitude towards what he simply sees as a gift. The collar is a curse, but you can’t exactly tell him that, can you? This entire situation is all your fault.

It's the treacherous part of your mind which attempts to convince you of this. It partially works. Giving in, you sit up slowly, drawing the blanket tightly around your shoulders and tilting your head while giving him a questioning look.

He’s surprised by your action, like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to respond to this extent. But he takes advantage of it. Drift offers you a hopeful smile and picks something up from his desk. He stands and walks to you, going slow. You don’t flinch when he crouches down to your level. The warm light of his eyes leaves a kind feeling on your skin.

Tentatively, Drift extends his hand. In his palm is a piece of chocolate, one of the many treats he has at his disposal to provide you with when he feels you are being especially good. It’s an olive branch. A reach in the right direction.

You hesitate…and then you think, Oh, what the hell. Staying mad at Drift when he has no clue he’s done something wrong in the first place won’t get you anywhere. So you accept the candy and take a small bite.

He sags with relief, exhaust whooshing from his nose as he watches you eat. When you're finished, he moves his hand closer, twining the palm around you and resting the tips of his digits against your head and sides. You hold his index finger, resting your forehead against it and closing your eyes as a sign of trust. But you feel guilty.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, knowing he won’t understand. But you say it anyway. “I love you. I love you so, so much. But you're destroying me. I can’t stay here anymore.”

A tear slips down your cheek. You don’t notice it until Drift gently brushes it away.

“I have to go.” Your voice breaks. “I need to leave. I hope you’ll learn why. And I hope you won’t hate me for it. I-I don’t think I could handle it if you did. Please don’t hate me. Please don’t think I hated you.”

Drift coos. His reply is indecipherable. You think he’s trying to comfort you…but you’ll never know for sure.

He doesn’t swallow you tonight. You don’t know why; maybe he thinks you need a break. Maybe he just wants to hold you in a different fashion this time. You stay awake hours after he falls asleep, your little form nestled in the crook of his neck while he snoozes on his stomach with his arms crossed beneath his massive pillow. You peer off into the darkness, listening to his quiet breaths.

For the longest time, you’ve thought of this room as yours and his. A space the two of you share together. Ours. It's fed into your delusional ideations of a future in which the two of you learn each other’s languages, where you stand on equal ground, you belonging to him and him belonging to you. A future where mechs and humans join hands and say “I see you. I know you. I understand you and you understand me. Neither of us is higher than the other.”

But it will never happen. The collar around your neck is physical proof. There is no future between the two of you anymore. If you want to be you again…you need to let Drift go.

You shuffle away from the bot’s neck and stand. The only parts of him that are lit up right now are the red symbol on his chest and the soft blue of his mouth. He’s so peaceful. This giant alien, who you know has fought in many battles from the scars you can see, is soothed by your presence. You, an insignificant little human being. The dynamic is honestly quite hilarious. You're like his very own version of a chihuahua.

You want to hug his nose, knowing you will never have another chance again. But Drift is a light sleeper, and you're testing the waters enough already. You can’t risk it. It pains you, but you drop your arms and turn away.

Using the metal ladder he made for you so you’d have easy access to his berth, you climb down and grab your knapsack. Quietly padding across the long expanse of the room, you make it to the door. It senses your presence and slides open. You force yourself not to look back when you walk out.

You wonder if he will cry for you when he wakes up and finds you gone.

The spaceship is ominous at night. The only thing you can hear as you traverse the hallways is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears. You're trying to be quiet; passing by multiple rooms with slumbering bots inside has you holding your breath and then letting it out in a forcefully slow, reedy wheeze. You are, after all, a mouse in a prison filled with cats; slow and steady and silent wins the race.

You survey the elevator when you get to it, at a loss of how you’ll possibly find a way to operate it due to how small you are. A miracle finds its way to you, however, in the form of a mech. This one you don’t recognize. He has a similar color scheme to Drift, but is noticeably bulkier, with a strange cannon sitting on his right shoulder and a blue eyepiece over the adjacent optic. All of his focus is on the datapad in his hands as he summons the elevator. You wait for the doors to open and for him to step inside before darting after him. Luckily he doesn’t look up once on the short journey. Your cover remains unblown when the doors part again and he heads off. You go in the opposite direction, because like hell are you going to follow the strange robot to someplace where there are probably more strange robots.

You slip in and out of sight, staying far away from any mechs who are awake. They do not see you, which means you are doing this right-though there are some alarming instances where you think you’ll be caught. One such occurrence happens when a tall, thin blue mech with a chest like the front of a helicopter nearly sees you duck into an open storage room for quick cover. Its single orb ominously scans the darkened room. You watch from beneath a large shelving unit, terrified out of your mind. You don’t move, nor do you make a sound, keeping a shaking hand over your mouth.

Finally, after what feels like hours, the mech stomps away. You let your head fall forward respitefully.

You know you're nearing your one-way ticket to Earth when you see bright yellow signs plastered on the walls with loud black alien words telling you to hurry left with the help of large arrows. Escape pod symbols, accompanied by a funny little robot mascot, are the giveaway. You feel a sort of giddy euphoria swell up within you. You're almost there. You're going to escape. You're going to go home. It all seems far too good to be true; sure, you’ve imagined this scenario happening over and over again, but you never really did believe it would happen.

You pinch your arm multiple times just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. This is not in your head. This is happening. You really are going back to Earth.

Your collar suddenly vibrates. And then it starts to screech.

You nearly jump out of your own skin. The alarm is loud, piercing, and undeniably going to alert someone to your presence. You slam your fists against it multiple times, but it doesn’t let up. Your heart sinks when the realization of what's going on hits.

Shit. He put a tracker in it.

You need to run. You shove yourself forward into a full-on sprint, dashing down the last remainder of this hallway, then turning the corner and seeing the numerous escape pods all lined up in the wall. You choose the first one, grabbing the edge of the circular door and pulling with all of your might. The tendons in your neck strain as you grunt and slowly bring the door back with you. Clamoring in, you give it one last heave before it shuts on its own and seals you inside. You hear the lock click into place. The entire cabin flickers to life, with the lights on and the control panel booting up. As you expected, everything is far too big for you to reach. But it seems you won’t need to. A loud robotic voice emanates from the central console, speaking to you in the native mech language.

Your collar is still going off. You don’t have a lot of time.

“I-I can’t understand you!” you yell over the din. “I’m a human, from Earth! I speak English!”

The voice pauses. Seconds later, to your amazement, it talks, and you can understand. “Language notifications made. Destination updated. Scanning…” A panel on the ceiling pops open, and a blue light filters out, washing over you. “Scanning complete. Species: Homo Sapien. Homeworld: Earth. Milky Way Galaxy. Status: Critically endangered. Suggesting immediate travel to Earth.”

You clap your hands. “Yes! Yes, that’s it! Earth, set the destination to Earth!”

“Destination set. Awaiting command to launch LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01.”

You are about to give the order when something slams against the door. You whirl around, your heart stuttering when you see who’s there. It’s Drift. He’s made it. And he looks horrified. With trembling fingers, he yanks on the handle. When the pod remains fastly shut, he pounds on the circular window with so much force the entire thing shudders and you think he’s going to rip it right off of its hinges. “Little one!” he screams, voice muffled beyond the barrier of glass. “Little one! Open…!” The rest of the sentence comes out as sharp metal shrieks.

You stand there helplessly. The pod once again inquires for your command, yet you can’t find it within yourself to speak.

Drift is doing everything he can to get to you. He’s like a rabid beast, clawing at the window, teeth bared in visible frustration. His biolights are going mad when he roars and sends his whole body into the door. This time, it does give a little. You can see some dents in the gray metal.

This…is a side of Drift you have never seen. It is desperate, vicious. And it terrifies you. You stumble back to the opposite end of the pod and curl up, hugging your knapsack to your chest like a child squeezing their favorite stuffed animal. Drift continues his futile attack on the door, but pauses when he makes eye contact with you. His face falls. His fists relax and slide downward to press palm against the glass.

He’s quiet as he seems to reflect on how he just presented himself front of you, then whispers heartbrokenly. “...Sorry.” Tears stream down his cheeks. His hot vexation melts away and exposes his remorseful center. “Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Little one. Y/N.”

Oh my god.

All noise ceases when you register what he just said. Your name. He said your name. He’s never done that before. You didn’t think he knew your name.

He learned to say it. For you.

Drift whimpers like a kicked dog, moving to crouch lower. “Y/N. Y/N, please. Stay. Stay with me. Please don’t go. I love you.”

You’ve changed his life. You don’t need to be told this. You know you’ve brought him a sense of joy he hasn’t felt in years. You didn’t come here of your own free will. But you freely chose to love him. You gave yourself up and became his everything while he became yours. Isn’t he your home? Isn’t he the one who saved you? Can you really leave someone who cares about you so much?

Your legs move on their own accord. Your heart beats with his and you take tentative steps towards the door. Drift twitters and gives you an encouraging nod, gesturing for you to keep walking.

Why do you want to leave him so badly? Why would you want to throw away this perfect life?

Your little human hands come to rest right over his massive robotic ones. You two are separated, but you think you can feel the warmth coming from him. Drift bonks his forehead against the window anticipatingly. “Come on,” he whispers. “Come on. It’s…okay. You're okay. Please.”

Your hands are human. You will never see another pair again if you return to him.

Your life is not supposed to be perfect. A human’s life is messy, and disastrous, and chaotic, and beautiful. His life is too, but not in the same way as yours.

“Goodbye, Drift,” you murmur, voice breaking. “LOST LIGHT LIFEPOD 01…take me to Earth.”

The escape pods hums and rumbles. “Command accepted,” it announces. “Preparing ejection in three…two…one.”

The last thing you see and hear before the pod lurches forward and rockets out of its dock is Drift’s agonized expression and his wrenching wail.

Your vessel speeds away. You get a fantastic view of the ship in all of its stunning glory. It felt so gigantic when you were inside, but from out here, you can fully comprehend its overwhelming proportions. You watch it rapidly shrink as you gain distance from it, until it's just another speck of light in the universe. And when you can’t even see that anymore, you allow yourself to collapse against the floor eagles-spread. You gaze up at the ceiling, feeling surprisingly hollow. There is no victorious sense of triumph, no excitement to return home. You don’t even know where home is anymore. Somehow, after everything you’ve gone through, you’ve come out even more lost than you already were.

The waterworks start shortly after the escape pod jumps into hyperspace. Heaving sobs, messy tears, you lie there and weep to the stars, not noticing when your collar finally stops beeping.

410 notes · View notes

voices-in-dark-violets-head · 2 months ago

Text

"Be Yourself", says the Furry Fandom.

And yet, as with many things in life, it's far easier said than done.

I've found that 'being myself' can take a lot of bravery, but I want to tell you why it's so, so important.

Storytime!

At Eurofurence this year, I ran the e621 Gameshow for the third year in a row. And for the third year in a row, we were over capacity. As in, security-comes-in-to-tell-people-to-leave levels of over capacity (Which, my dear sympathies once again with those who had to go!)

We had a crowd that was there for an hour and a half of weird furry porn. Who cheered for horsecock. Who delighted in Falco Lombardi macro art. A hundred people - a quarter of the room - gleefully admitted to being into vore.

The atmosphere was electric, and I hadn't even needed my e-stim kit. This was a crowd who rejoiced in the adult side of the fandom!

And then I asked them - how many people had a fetish they'd be nervous admitting to?

A third of the room raised their hands.

In a room that had been laughing moments earlier about the amount of Mufasa/Simba porn, or getting a 100% success rate on guessing popular cock shapes, 1/3 of them weren't confident in revealing those same parts of themselves.

I don't think this is rare.

I've had folks ask me if I get hate for the kind of art I draw (not really much at all, by the way). But worse, I get people telling me - they wish they could draw what they want, write the characters they love… but they fear what others might say.

I've had commissioners remain anonymous, for fear of people knowing what they're into. Known artists start up alt accounts, so that they can draw a kink without their friends knowing. Writers wringing their hands over possible reactions to their stories.

And I would love to tell you it's all just fear - but truth is, it isn't.

Because it ain't just the big patron sites that are swinging the axe on the 'too weird'. Our own sites - our communities - sharpen their restrictions. Whole kinks, loving and accepted, are now 'too far'.

We're fearing the gaze from the outside. We're hearing their derision. And that can scare us, cause us to hide not just ourselves, but those around us. "What if they think that I'm into that? What would they say? I need to prove I'm not!"

We all crave love and acceptance. And in a fandom formed in rejection from society, don't we just hold such ideals even more tightly? So much so that the very idea of this same community throwing us out - for being ourselves? Of course it's terrifying.

But it turns out, even us outcasts, outsiders… we can all hold prejudices. We all have the ability to draw lines, and give too little thought to what that means. We can so easily turn our own opinions, our fear of what others think of us, into rules that hurt and exclude.

And therein lies the issue. "Be yourself", says the fandom, without stopping to consider how treacherous, how thorned that path can be. To be yourself, sometimes, is to suffer the disgust of those who would tell you to do it in the first place.

But… I'm missing something.

Thing is, this fandom isn't based on any one thing. We're not just here because Zootopia was a kinda cool movie, or Twokinds is pretty sexy, or StarFox looks good when he's fifteen stories tall.

We follow no one IP, no webcomic, no TV show. We follow only one thing:

Ourselves.

WE make the fandom we live in. We're dozens of sexualities, a hundred meetups and conventions, a thousand discord servers and Telegram channels, a million pictures and stories and alt-accounts and roleplays…

We decide what we are.

Aren't we the haven of the weird? The questioning of sexualities? The taboo, even incomprehensible kinks? We joke about vore, knots, gratuitous foot fetishists, but isn't that what makes this place home? Isn't every artist drawing obvious kink art following a beautiful legacy?

We are the monsterfuckers. The maw-obsessed, the paw-sluts, the musk-lovers (er, not that one). With every fetish we draw, every kink we commission, every smut-filled story and problematic character and taboo-laden roleplay…

We're the fandom, making ourselves.

Through being myself, through art and stories and chats and servers, I've found new communities. New friends. New ways to think, new art to enjoy. I've found love, deeper than I ever thought possible.

I've found myself.

And I've been told that through my artwork, stories, friend groups, I've helped people do the same. They've found the words to describe what's been inside them this whole time.

They've found they're not alone.

It's one of the sweetest and most delightful things I've heard.

Yes, it takes bravery to be yourself. You risk being misperceived, either accidentally or wilfully. You risk hurt. You risk confusion. But it's nothing you haven't done before. And in its wake, you will find yourself.

Do not let other people dictate who you are.

So when I say to keep furry weird, this is what I mean. Find that part of yourself that yearns to be free, and make this fandom the place for it.

Be yourself. Be so amazingly yourself that your very existence is an act of rebellion.

And Keep. Furry. Weird.

#keep furry weird #furry #furry discourse #idk i just have so much love for the weird and the questioning inside me #if you haven't heard these words before for being who you are #then hear them here #I love you

161 notes · View notes

creampz · 1 year ago

Text

⋆ ★ RULES.

#★vegasbaby. is my personal tag for all my work(s). sometimes i don’t update my mlists right away, but any time i post you’ll see things under that specific tag. (fics, hc's, etc..)

minors are to not interact with me or any of my works. must be 18+ or it's an immediate block. it would help a lot if you have some kind of age indicator! i’m not your parent so what you choose to consume despite ignoring my boundaries is up to you. i have mdni everywhere on my blog, but if i catch you lurking at all when you shouldn’t be, i will block you. this is an adult space.

i write requests on my own time and when i feel like it! currently, they’re open. thirsts like these take me quicker to write. please be patient because i try to answer everyone <3

i will say this again, but i do not write smut for minor characters. i will not age them up either. i will not write teen!character or teen! reader. it makes me uncomfy, please don’t ask / request that.

keep in mind, i’m only one person running this entire blog and it’s very hard to monitor constantly. if i don’t get to your ask(s), i apologize :’). i love talking to you guys!sometimes when im away ill run on queue

i write only for fem! reader (smut) — for angst, fluff i don’t mind writing in gender neutral.

please do not translate my works or feed them to any sites/platforms. screampied is my only tumblr & all works are mine. my ao3 is creampz and im gonna start cross posting my work there—whenever i have time eheh.

⋆ ★ BYF/DNI.

do not interact — minor, pro-isreal, kink-shamer, thinspo, racist / anything anti LGBTQ+, etc.

please refrain from stealing my themes, gifs / graphics. inspiration credit is totally fine by me as long as you ask! i’m fine if people want to use my graphic stuff as inspiration but please don’t entirely copy me.

this blog may write & interact w dark content time to time. i always tag properly in case you wanna filter that ( ex. #cw dacryphilia / #cw gunplay ) but nothing too supreme.

this is a safe goofy horny space! racism, unnecessary hate, and dumb tumblr beef will not be tolerated here. promise, i do not care. i’m just here to write and troll

reblogs + comments are wholeheartedly appreciated !!!

i don’t really answer anon hate. you’re gonna be talking to yourself and ignored. i’m not gonna be disrespected on my own blog. if i’m really bored, i’ll troll you with a meme.

don’t rant / vent to me in my inbox. i’m not a therapist and it could not only trigger me but my audience. asking for advice is fine i guess, but just heed my warning.

although my personality is a bit flirty, everything is entirely platonic! don’t take what i say serious lol, also i have dark humor so if you’re not with that, this isn’t the blog for you

don’t critique my writing unless you’re my beta reader. i didn’t ask and you’ll be blocked.

messages are only set for mutuals. if you have something you’d like to talk to me about, send me an ask and i’ll reply privately (or message you personally on my end)

don’t spam my inbox with asks. mutual or anon i will block you, it’s annoying & i promise i saw it the first time.

⋆ ★ WRITING.

before sending a thirst/req, please read the kinks im not comfortable with writing (scroll to see) — if you ask for a kink + trope, etc. i stated i won’t write, it’ll be deleted.

please keep your request/ask a few sentences short, not an entire essay. i’ll elaborate however i see fit. HOWEVER, i’ll make an exception if you have a fic idea you’d like to see me write. ex: “hi vegas! what do you think about … (specific au / character)” if it gets me motivated enough, chances are i’ll write it

info list of things i won’t write: stepcest & incest, pseudo-cest, scat, dub + noncon, pregnant s*x, kidnapping, peeing / piss kink, period s*x, somnophilia, ddlg, age regression, fisting, yandere, race play, vore, vomit, feet kinks, sacrilege (ex. priest! character), high school au's (teacher x student is a hard no: only exception—professor / college aus) free use, g4ngbangs, gl0ryholes, etc. (if i get asked asking for any of these kinks / tropes i will delete them.)

no, i don’t write for mahito.

again because this is a frequent question lol, i do not write smut for underage characters (megumi, yuuji, yuuta, maki, etc) please don’t ask me to age them up either !!

yes, i write for the women in jjk.

don’t request me something you’ve already asked another writer. it puts me in a weird position & don’t ask me to recreate something another writer wrote.

when describing reader, they’ll always be short or depicted as smaller than the characters i’m describing. also, i try to be inclusive to all readers. never in my writing will i describe specifics such as (body type, eye color, hair color, skin tone) unless asked. you’re free to imagine your reader how you want! <3

i never use (y/n) in my fics. nothing against it but i just stick to petnames!

if you have any questions about a kink, a req, etc. just ask me !!

i’d like to end this off by saying please USE PROTECTION !!! fiction is not real life, so please wrap it up or dip. also, consent is key <3 kisses !!!

#like if u understand !#thx pumpkin💋

436 notes · View notes

nebbynebbu · 2 years ago

Text

Lucky art! - ELLIOT, ELLIOT, ELLIOT, SLEEPY WOLFFFF!!! I want to give him cafuné, hugs, pets, PILLOWS BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT ALL. I can’t whistle, Elliot I’m so sorry.

Yo yo! What's up party peeps, coming out with more Widfali characters from the shoulders up. xD I'm probably going to fix Zane's later as I'm not happy with his.

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY! I'm going to be doing these for all the characters. Gotta a lot more to go. REGARDLESS HAVE A GREAT REST OF YOUR DAY, EVERYONE!! <3

#But it's okie! I will just go pspspspsp come here wolffo please!#AND THANKS TO TOAST'S BRAIN IF I LACK IN PILLOWS I CAN BE THE PILLOW-#Just wants a nap #M o o d #Le go! I can cuddle you and won't mind if you need a snack before napping.#Lucky I'm so sorry but I love him so much!#Again that's all with his permission of course! Baby boy baby-#NOW ON THE OTHER CHARACTERS-#Zane actually looks somewhat friendly what is with the deep scar tho? Lore lore lore-#Miss sneaky conniving snake #sneaky sneaky- schemming away-#Tila looks so done with stuff- the type to say something like: Yea- yea no that's wrong.#I do like her eyes tho!#ELLIOT LOOKS SO TIRED-#Pspspsp if you let me I will give you tea with honey so you can sleep well!#vore writing #vore story #vore stories #WIDFALI #WIDFALI art

19 notes · View notes

ryanmarshallryan · 8 months ago

Text

I've been having a lot more people reach out about the vore stories I write, so thought I'd throw it out there if anyone wants to donate to help me have more time to write stories, or likes my style and wants to commission something let me know over dm!

I usually write thinking from a prey perspective, but was feeling hungry after eating salads for a month and switched to pred for this story.

DIET BACKFIRED

I love my weight. I think my belly looks great on me. When I see those old statues of historical figures with dad bods I see myself and love it. But after gaining 25 pounds in a few months from stress, I decided to try out a diet for a bit, just to be cautious of my health. Man, it was hard. And this morning my hunger took control.

I was preparing a salad, heated up some chicken to mix in, sprinkled in some shredded cheese, spinach, lettuce, cucumber, tomato and such. All I could think about was how wonderful it would feel to have a full belly again. Not just feeling satisfied, but pigging out and shoving as much down my maw as possible. Feeling the gainer bug while also trying to diet was not going to work for me. I tore through my cabinet to find an old box of cookies. I opened the box, came to my senses and closed it, then decided I didn’t care and ate the remainder in one sitting. To try to slow myself down and tire out my palette, I tried to eat a bunch of lettuce, but then added a bunch of croutons and snacks without thinking. I still felt hungry, but just left the kitchen to stop myself.

Later, I hung out with my work-out buddy, Max, and vented about my hunger, “I’m still eating a lot! Just replacing chips with a lot of low fat snacks. So if the quantity of food I’m eating is the same, why am I always feeling sooooo hungry? Ugh.”

“Bro, sounds like you need a cheat day. But, hey, if you’re stressed about having too much high fat food, I can help you eat big while still holding back on the chips.”

“Well it can be helpful to sit with the feeling for a while. So if you start feeling hungry, write down exactly what you are craving and what that feels like. By the time you are done writing it out, if you’re still hungry for it… go for it. If the feeling passes, then move on,” Max continued.

“I’m sure we could try it, but I don’t see how much of a difference it’ll make.” I replied. I knew Max worked as some sort of private personal trainer or something on the side, so I felt inclined to believe him, but my stomach was doubtful.

After our workout, we visited a smoothie place and got large chocolate banana protein smoothies (after writing out what I was craving and waiting a moment before deciding to go through with it). I sucked mine down so fast I got a mild brain freeze.

“So how are you feeling? Hungry for another one?” Max asked, playfully placing a hand on my gut and giving it a quick rub.

“Ugh, I would totally go for a burger and fries right now… no, onion rings… actually both,” I replied, as Max handed me a notepad and pen. I wrote down the menu in my mind and thought about how it can be nice to feel so full without another care in the world.

“It’s been a few minutes… still hungry?” Max said with a sly smile.

“What do you think?” I asked him, lifting my gym shirt up to reveal my hairy belly, which gave a perfectly timed gurgle.

Max drove to my favorite burger joint and ordered a few meals and insisted on paying “This is my idea, don’t worry about it… for science!”

After downing two large burgers, a full bag of onion rings and a couple sides of fries, plus an apple that came with Max’s meal that he was too full to finish, I sat with my gut extended out in front of me.

Max leaned over to me, pulled my shirt up over my belly and patted it with his closed fist as if knocking at a door, “So how are you doing, hungry guy?” He put his ear to my side and listened intently to the stomach gurgles, occasionally making sounds of “Mmm,” “Yes, I see,” “Interesting.” I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of Max speaking to my belly.

“What’s so funny about listening to your gut? Intuitive eating is no joke,” Max said with a joking smile, “What is your stomach telling you?”

I thought for a moment, grabbed the notepad and wrote down ‘Though I should be full and done eating… Ice cream would hit the spot right now… Surely that would fill me up, and fill the void the low fat snacks have opened.’ I handed Max the written note.

Max looked from my belly to my eyes with a poker face, “I know just the place.”

In a few minutes we rolled up to Max’s apartment. Inside he pulled out some pints of cookies and cream ice cream and some mint chocolate chip. He handed me a spoon and opened the containers and sat across from me.

“Do you want me to get a bowl?” I asked.

“Nah. Try to intuitively eat. Just eat until your body feels done.”

“So… eat until there’s a nationwide ice cream shortage?”

Max threw his head back laughing, “If we get to that point, maybe we’ll pivot to a new tactic, but for now, feel free to eat as much as you want.” He looked endearingly into my eyes, and I felt my gut rumble, whether by digestion or hunger, or both, I couldn’t discern.

As I scooped down ice cream, we chatted about hunger, about scarcity mindset when it comes to food, and he told me some interesting facts about digestion and how to make room in one's stomach faster than normal by laying on the left side.

“Is this the stuff people need to know for your personal training work and such?” I asked.

“Personal training stuff?” Max gave a look of puzzlement then laughed, “I think I said that sarcastically a while back. A few guys pay me to help them gain weight and eat big. So sort of a personal trainer, but kind of the opposite effect that most would expect.”

“Ohhh, this tactic makes a bit more sense now,” I replied, continuing to eat the ice cream.

“Well, I thought if I encouraged you to experience the ability to eat as much as you want without restriction, you’ll realize that you don’t have to eat everything. It sounds like you are always hungry, because you are always denying that you want food.”

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true,” I went to scoop up more ice cream then realized I’d eaten all of it.

“How are you feeling?” Max asked, rubbing the top of my belly.

I felt a grumble deep in my stomach.”I can definitely feel my belly full of food, but I also could definitely do the whole thing all over again.”

Max considered me for a moment, then started listing off some random digestion facts again. He put his head on my stomach again, lifted my shirt off my body, listened again, took his hands and gently opened my mouth wide and peered down my throat, until I started laughing and he couldn't hold my mouth open.

“What are you doing? You think my stomach is gonna speak back to you in English?” I joked.

“No… but I wonder if I could better understand your hunger if I could better see inside your gut. Hmmm, maybe even just peering down your esophagus…”

“Don’t you need a fancy scope for that or something?”

“Not if you’re willing to relax your throat for a moment…” Max said. I shrugged, and he straddled my lap and shoved his head into my mouth. I could feel his energetic breathing against my tongue and wondered how on earth he could see anything down my throat with his head blocking light from the outside.

I heard a muffled “I’d like to see a bit further…” and felt him push his whole body forward into me. His shoulders shoved their way into my maw and stretched my jaw wide like an opera singer. I choked a little bit feeling his scratchy hair make contact with my uvula and the bottom of my tongue. I reflexively closed my lips over his skin and swallowed as the hair and breath tickled my maw. I realized that my peristalsis must have taken a bit of control, because I was surprised to see that I was looking down at his lower back with his arms pinned to his sides. I felt his nipples and pectoral muscles sliding against my tongue and felt his head squeezed tightly through my lower esophagus. What was going on? Though the sensation was filling me with dopamine and adrenaline, I realized that somehow my body was getting ready to eat a whole human, so I mentally prepared myself to try and regurgitate him. But instead I felt him force himself deeper into my throat, as his feet pushed off against the floor, and his upper torso wriggled and squirmed to slide deeper into me. I felt a sloshing in my gut, and heard a muffled intake of air and the continuation of more digestion facts being spewed out of Max’s ever curious mind obsessed with digestion.

Since Max seemed so intent on getting inside my stomach, and I knew I would need to breathe soon, I decided to help him out. I lifted his legs up over my head and felt gravity pulling him down my throat. I pulled his gym shorts and such off him and felt the interesting texture of his little belly over his abs, mixed with gym sweat and belly hair, felt past his hard on and groin, and his thick thighs as they all passed over my tongue and against my soft palate. My stomach finally began to feel full, as it sloshed with its soupy contents of dinner encasing Max’s squirming upper body. I knew Max’s hands had been freed from the tight grip of my esophagus as my inner stomach felt a peculiar tickling sensation with Max rubbing it from the inside. I felt him poke around and heard his muffled casual observations about my stomach.

I felt Max’s muscles seize up as he put his legs together tightly and let them slide easily down my throat. I felt his cold feet tickle my tongue, uvula and esophagus until they finally plopped into my stomach and I felt my throat open enough for me to exhale and breathe in more oxygen finally.

I took a few moments to gather my thoughts and catch my breath, feeling Max move around and curl up into a ball inside my tight stomach. I looked down to see the bulge his head made toward the top of my belly, with other odd bumps sticking out that I assumed were his knees and feet pressing up against my stomach walls. I felt his clammy hands push up against my stomach as he surveyed his new situation.

“Max, I forgot to write this craving down first.” I said, jokingly.

“Don’t worry I already did!” I heard him shout back, hearing it almost come up through my own throat. I stared in confusion at the opened notepad next to me and flipped to the last written note that read ‘Ice cream and everything else isn’t satisfying enough. Maybe eating me will do the trick. - Max’

My belly gurgled in surprise, “You planned for me to eat you?”

“I did shove myself down your throat, didn’t I?”

“But why would you -”

“Hey you didn’t try and stop me, bud,” he replied. I felt a pat against my belly, and shivered a little bit.

“Yeah, but I thought you just wanted to glance inside, but you wriggled in deeper!”

“Are you mad that I did?” Max asked. I felt him shifting his weight inside my gut and resting into me.

I considered the events of the night. I had really craved a day to just eat all I wanted, and Max gave all that to me and more. Even though I definitely didn’t expect him to force his way onto the menu, my belly felt much more satiated than it had been. “... I’m not mad at you… just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into… but I do have a confession.”

“What is it?” Max asked, shifting around and pressing his head up against the place where my hand was resting on my belly.

“I could go for some orange sherbert right now… I think your diet tactic failed.” My stomach added a large grumble and groan in agreement.

“Failed for you, maybe. But I’m cozy!” Max tried to stretch out a bit and I watched my stomach bulges shift in a funny manner, and felt my belly tighten and knead Max in response. “Plus, I think I figured out why you’ve been so hungry lately.”

“And what have you discovered?”

“That you should have eaten me ages ago! Once I’m digested into belly fat you’ll have more energy stored in your cells for longer, so you won’t be as hungry all the time! It’s simple science,” Max replied matter of factly.

“I’m not sure that science is sound, but as long as you’re happy, I’m fat and happy.”

“If you don’t think the science is sound, maybe you ought to repeat the experiment. Have a cheat day every once in a while,” Max replied, as he curled into a tight ball again and let my stomach relax and get to work over him. “I know I’ve been seeing that cute guy at the gym drooling over your gut, you know, the one who always wears that green hat? I’m sure he’d love to be a part of your next cheat day once you’ve had enough of your salads and diet again.”

I enjoyed the peace of feeling Max getting comfortable deep in my gut. I took deep breaths and felt my diaphragm move Max around slightly as my chest expanded and contracted. “Maybe I’ll ask him. But I’ll leave it up to him whether he wants to take it as far as you did tonight.” I rubbed my belly and stared, mesmerized at the lumpy spots on my belly indicating Max’s body relaxing against my stomach walls. I felt his heartbeat in polyrhythm against mine, with his breathing patterns tickling my stomach walls. I tasted the lasting flavors of his skin on my tongue, mixed with ice cream and other sustenance I had downed throughout the evening. Good thing we worked out first, to balance out this sharp intake in calories. So I suppose even if I had a cheat day from my diet, eating a whole human balances out to be healthy, right?

#gayvore #male vore #m/m vore #fat

297 notes · View notes

tinydefector · 8 months ago

Text

TINY-DEFECTOR WORK MASTERLIST

RULES BELOW ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

REQUEST & ASK OPEN

Please feed me request they are keeping me sane.

information

1. I WRITE M/M GENDER NEUTRAL READERS OR CANON CHARACTERS I WILL WRITE TRANS MALE.

I am not a Fem writer

2. have the right to not do request if I don't want to.

3. I get a large number of requests, and sometimes they get lost in my inbox.

4. Every three months I will do an inbox clear out. And will save what I'm working on into my drafts.

5. I write as a hobby to keep myself busy.

it's been a long while since i've written on tumblr. I lost my last account, but I'm hoping to get back into writing fics or oneshots again. Mainly going to be Writing Transformers.

What I write for:

Transformers - Bumblebee

Transformers- ROTB

Transformers Prime

Transformers Gen 1

Transformers Mtmte, IDW

Transformers Skybound

Transformers Earthspark

Transformers One

Character list and links below ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Requests & ask Rules:

I don't tend to close my request unless I get over 30+ of them.

- 1 character per request if you want a longish one shot fic.

- you can make requests for multiples with scenarios but but I tend to keep them short with a few headcannons added in.

- Specify if you want a continuation of a previous fic.

- I will do both human and Cybertronian and occasionally Experimental monster readers.

-if requesting Cybertronian for smut, they have both a valve and spike as I write all Cybertronians with both parts, all cybertronian characters I write have both parts. (I will accept request with the fem bots, I just don't write Fem readers)

- your more than welcome to ask for NSFW, SFW, Angst, fluff and all sorts. I'm pretty chill. All Smut and NSFW content is marked with #valveplug

I write: gender neutral, or Male characters, (I'm not good nor do I like writing fem character, I'm a guy, if I do get fem readers I'm going to write them as gender neutral)

I will do:

- Scenarios

- Yandere and possessive.

- family content

-disabilities (to the best of my knowledge)

- Fluff/Angst

- fearplay, mouthplay

-Vore: soft vore/ light vore (may experiment, but very light)

- NSFW, kink:

and Dub-con/ consensual Non-con

size kink

skin fetish

hair pulling

Scent/ smell/ pheromones

Sex pollen/perfume.

silk and ribbon play

cum inflation

breeding

pet play

Predator/prey

(On occasions will write Alpha/Omega/Beta, I write it rather differently to the classic AOB. But I will only write it on very rare occasions)

vore

fluid play and consumption (paint, energon, oil, cum, spit, lubricant,)

spiking warming

Heart and spark syncing

new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

(Just ask pretty much)

-Pregnancy

- death request are alright just keep it civil I won't go into details on the deaths.

- The AUs:

First Contact PotatooftheLand

Tasty AU of @callsign-relic

Energy fluid AU - (my silly energy drink transfluid ones)

Human effects series - (either characters for the main storyline or smut request spin off's just be specified)

Sparkeater AU

Human pet

Merformers

Wings of Primus AU

Domestic Cybertron AU

I will NOT do:

-Incest

-Pedophilia

- Self harm

-Minors (exceptions if they are children of the Bots and reader but only exception)

- Don't get angry if I'm not willing to write fem characters, I'm a guy, and I tend to stick with trans content, M/M, or gender neutral, but I'm leanent but respect my boundaries.

Slightly iffy:

- death of parents (I recently lost my mother in an accident so please be aware I that things one's sometimes I won't do due to my own feelings on these fics, while other time I may because it gives me comfort)

I enjoy making silly little one shots or even just sweet little things. I will eventually do up a master list for links once I make more stuff. (Pretty much anything you can think of up that alley I'm more than happy to do)

If you want a request of one who's not on the list, please submit it. These are just all the ones I can remember off the top of my head, people enjoy.

Ps I love writing silly little things too outside of the fics and even enjoy making art to go along with them when I feel up to drawing.

So nothing is too silly ask away over all the strange little things you want to know.

__________

All my art so far:

Tiny art dump

Art dump 2

My little spot for art

Art others have made off fics

_________

Works series

Marine Centre- Merformers Au

Human effects list

Transfluid headcannon

human and Cybertronian biology works

Rut cycle Masterlist

Kinktober 2024

______________________

Character list and links:

Arcee

Beachcomber

Blaster

Blurr

Brainstorm

Breakdown

Bumblebee

Bulkhead

Cyclonus

Drift

First aid

Ironhide

Jazz

Knockout

Megatron

Mirage

Optimus Prime

Perceptor

Pharma

Prowl

Ratchet

Rodimus

Rung

Starscream

Skyfire

Skywarp

Skids

Swerve

Soundwave

Shockwave

Swindle

Tailgate

Tarn

Tarantulas

Thundercracker

Ultra Magnus

Whirl

281 notes · View notes

oceanlipgloss · 4 months ago

Text

MEAT SHOP

BEELZEBUB.

+ warnings: dark themes, erotic hues, graphic descriptions of horror and gore, inclusion of vore, strong language.

+ female mc, feminine pronouns.

No restaurant could ever dream of offering such buttery meat—never to be sold in any boucherie.

A precise percentage of fat. A measured amount of muscle. The perfect mix of flavours. Raw flesh softened into dough between his bloody teeth. Dead cells trickled down his smiling lips in strawberry streaks.

Her bones cracked like candy in his mouth, but she didn’t taste sweet.

A once-in-a-lifetime blend. Not flavoured like heaven. Paradise isn’t even a good thing, now is it?

Fuck, how long he had been waiting!

So close. He was so close! And yet, he was losing his fucking mind. Though God had created him a ravenous madman, sanity was still slipping through his feverish fingers and down his trembling hands. Like oil and grease.

There was no time to cut the cake. No time, no time, no time. None at all! None whatsoever. He had to rip a bite out of her.

No, no, no, no.

Hold it.

This is an only chance. Jackpot. A once-in-a-lifetime meal, remember? Even if it wasn’t a full course, lunch, breakfast, or so much as a snack.

He can never indulge in this grade of meat anymore.

Somewhere, in an insignificant corner of his scattering mind, the thought made him sad. What a shame it is for such exquisite food to never be enjoyed again.

Later, later. As for now!

Should he swallow her whole or rip flesh and bone apart first? Choke down meat or savour flavour? Lick blood or drink plasma?

In the end, he didn’t take the time to peel smooth skin back like he would have done with chocolate wrappers.

He couldn’t do it.

Not too long ago he had sent her an invitation into his bathtub. Locked up her hot body between his legs. With every kiss fabric melted off.

What a dirty human. He could smell the fucking arousal on her.

Dumb, clueless bitch.

Everything had to be just right. He did not want to miss the burst of even one particular cell. He hadn’t wanted to risk watering down the palate. So there were no flowers. There was no water. Nothing. Just pristine enamel. And him. It was empty.

His lips had kissed her shoulder softly.

And then his teeth had bitten down.

Gentle.

Hard.

Harder still.

He had torn away a piece of her.

What do humans say?

Oh, but of course.

‘Bon apetit!’

The tub overflowed with blood. Fetid burgundy burst under his weight and pooled onto the bathroom floor.

No difference between candied cherries and blood clots. Ligaments and tendons. Flecks of flesh and bits of bone. Broken fingers and curled toes. Cartilage that’s hard, but much softer than stone. He devoured them all, polished stains off glossy marble.

No crime scene or slaughterhouse could have compared.

His smile shone. He felt a little bit empty. Was it regret? Well, it’s too late! Such pleasure is worth every regret in the world. His guts ached in longing under his grimy nails. So good, though not yet full.

How he wanted more!

He adored the putrid pain, the harmonious flavour, the very gore.

So little remained of her...she couldn’t even be called a corpse.

No more. Not in any meat shop.

Once was not enough.

With trembling fingertips and a strange, twisted love, he stroked the girl’s skull.

Oh, you stupid little human, you.

If only there were more of you.

+tag: @/kanatashinkaifr does a gory jumpscare sound good to u? :P

+notes: Beel is very much thriller material. There is a cold-blooded, unstable part of him. A true gluttony incarnate—lusting for flesh, eating all there is, leaving nothing behind. No matter what resides in his heart and who the victim is, he's a devil and his sin continues to rule him. Even if he does manage to resist eating MC, his desire to devour her is a flame that still burns. Inspired by the in-game screenshots in this post.

This, my people, was a dark pleasure to write. Blood and meat, dear peeps ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I want to write more stuff like this in the future. I kid you not, I almost felt free for a minute. *Rubbing hands like a villain fly* hail horror, hail gore!

+ MASTERLIST

+ AO3 POST

©𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙨

#whb beelzebub #beelzebub whb #what in hell is bad beelzebub #what in “hell” is bad #what in hell is bad #whb #the story factory

60 notes · View notes

sunflower-ozzy-online · 6 months ago

Text

Laios NSFW Alphabet

I'm having trouble writing smut for Laios outright so here are some head canons in the form of a NSFW alphabet. These will be the basis of any fics I write going forward as well.

let me know if I missed any important tags.

Laios Touden/Reader

Additional Tags: Smut NSFW Alphabet Challenge Cock Warming Butt Plugs Anal Sex Pegging Sexual Roleplay Penis In Vagina Sex Sexual Content Oral Sex Cunnilingus Blow Jobs Monsterfucker Laios Touden Aftercare Food Kink Aphrodisiacs BDSM Service Top

Laios my sweet boy, you deserve so many more reader insert fics.

Laios NSFW Alphabet

slight vore mention but not enough to put as a tag.

Written mainly with a reader with a vagina in mind but should be inclusive to readers with penises.

Receiving- If it was early in your relationship, he would possibly ask for reassurance or if there was anything he could change for next time. He would get more confident and better at reading your needs as he gets more experienced.

A = Aftercare (what they are like after sex)

Giving- Depending on if the session was intense or not his aftercare would differ as well. If you need specific aftercare, be sure to tell him, he’s not going to pick up on hints. For best results discuss needs BEFORE sex. He would be very open to what you suggest and make sure to remember your needs after a lil breather. Without a prior discussion he would check on how you were feeling and get snacks and some water to replenish afterwards.

Yours- Have you SEEN the orc panel of him talking about the chiefs’ wives????? He loves someone who is soft and chubby especially if they have a nice round butt, pillowy chest, and soft tummy. No matter what size you are he would love the place where your spine meets your hips for some reason. He always places his hand there while walking through a crowded place trying to keep track of you and not get overstimulated in crowds.

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

Theirs – He loves his arms and hands. How strong they are after he has trained for so long to become strong enough to swing his sword and protect those he cares about. He loves to watch them enter you, paying attention to how your fluids coat them.

He may compare your taste to different monsters he’s tasted absentmindedly, you knew what you were getting into.

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

Theirs- his cum is thick and not too watery. He doesn’t cum an unreasonable amount, but it is more than average. He does have an above average amount of precum, almost as soon as he gets hard his poor cock starts leaking in excitement. I don’t know how to explain it but his cum is a little muskier than the average. WOULD DEFINITELY want to test how different foods affect how it tastes once he finds out that it’s a thing. At first, he would do it by himself, tasting it after he jerks off or secretly after he came on you. Once he has gotten more comfortable, he will bring it up to you, seeing if you are into his little experiment. If you weren’t then he would try to eat food that he thinks makes it taste better before asking for head/ or more often. IF YOU DO, he will repeat his experiments and see which food made it taste better to you. He would then ask if you wanted to.

Yours/ semen- he would be so upset if you wouldn’t let him taste your cum, but he would accept it. If you do, he licks up every drop he can if it's on him or you. Before he puts it in his mouth, he would mess with it slightly to feel its thickness.

Yours/ slick (once again idk what to say) –He will lap at you every time he has the chance (with permission of course) He would go for the kiss after going down on you so be sure to let him know if that is not something you’re into. Instead of wiping his mouth afterwards he would be very gross about it and lick it off of himself, not wanting to miss any of it.

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

As much as he tells you he doesn’t want to have sex in the dungeon it is one of his secret fantasies. Something he prefers to just play out in his head than ever wish into real life. The idea of seeing you fucked by one of the monsters in front of him while he watches gets him so hard so fast, as well as him being pleasured by a monster while you watch. Or ideally you both being simultaneously pleasured by a dryad or the like.

He worries that one day he will be a victim of nightmares and then while they are being cooked the group sees his wildest sexual fantasies play out in the steam. While it haunts his dreams it also makes him aroused.

He is not very experienced honestly although he had a fiancée previously, I don’t see him wanting to have sex outside of a relationship, and not having any previous relationships where he felt comfortable enough to have sex, including his previous engagement which I think was probably arranged. He knows about sex in a very scientific way, maybe reading a smut book that had sirens or succubae in it mistaking them for genuine monster resource books. He finished reading it and secretly kept it with him and rereads it occasionally.

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

He ideally wants to look at you during sex so missionary, cowgirl, and the like are his go to. He likes the amount of control he has in doggy style, but he doesn’t like not being able to see and touch you as freely as he wants to. He would love putting you in a mating press, getting so close to you and observing your facial expressions thrusting deep into you while having access to your clit/ dick.

He knows the simple stuff but anything further you're either going to have to teach him or tell him to research it, which he will be very open to.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He would love for you to ride his face though, letting his tongue reach deep inside you hand on your hips pulling you down so you are as close as possible.

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

For someone with a dick/ strap, he would want to ride you, taking it at his own pace. If he was in a particularly submissive mood, then he would want to be in a sudo-spooning position with his top leg hitched up to his chest to you could reach deeper into him, your chest pressing into him, arm reaching around to play with him as you thrust.

In the beginning he takes it very seriously, as if he is completing a task, trying to make you feel good. As he gains more confidence, he would begin to be a little bit goofier, making jokes or observations as he thinks of them. He would love to playfully bite you while you’re concentrating to get you out of your own head a bit.

For his partner he would definitely prefer them to have hair down there vs. being cleanly shaven. He wants to smell you, he will tell you that to your face if you ask if he cares.

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

He tends to be well-shaven and groomed upstairs due to the fact that he doesn’t want to look like his dad, naturally leaning toward being unkempt. But downstairs where he typically doesn’t pay attention it would be up to his sexual partner, if you have it a way you like it, he would try to keep it that way, just genuinely not having a preference. His pubes are slightly darker than his head hair, and on the straighter and thicker side.

In a way, he can be kinda scientific at the start. Noting what you like, what you don’t that it doesn’t lead to much intimacy. As he gets more familiar or heated, he will be very intimate and vulnerable. He will compliment you and whisper sweet things to you. He wants to be close to you, letting your souls mix together and breathe the air from your lungs, wanting to consume you in anyway he can.

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

After you two meet and he started having feelings for you he would start getting boners just from your presence, if he wasn’t clear on his crush yet it would be so confusing for him “is this a side effect of a monster, or magic in the dungeon?” Not wanting them to interfere with his focus he would either ignore them, or if he couldn’t he would quickly get off.

J = Jack off (masturbation head canon)

Before you he would only masturbate as a stress reliever whenever he was especially pent up. Though that would be very rare.

After you two get together but before you had sex he would jerk off, feeling hot thinking of you and feeling a little ashamed.

After you first had sex, he would tell you almost immediately if he got hard and ask if you wanted to have sex. He would prefer to handle it with you but would be satisfied with a quick self-care session, thinking of you and being disappointed it didn’t feel the same. Thinking about how he was so spoiled now, in a positive way.

Bondage – both on him and his partner- especially suspension sex where his partner is suspended.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Monster fucking (obviously)

Dom/Sub dynamics -He’s a service dom-leaning switch and he enjoys the structure and rules this type of sex lends itself to. He would want to use safe words even outside of BDSM sessions.

Sexual eating- like eating off of someone or feeding his partner/ his partner feeding him.

Cock warming- he is so touch-starved after years of being socially isolated especially romantically.

Light Impact play- this goes with the BDSM aspects- he doesn’t want to hurt his partner that much but if they are into it, he would be very willing. He likes it on himself when combined with sensory deprivation, giving into his partner completely. He loves the tingles on the skin it leaves after the impact though anything more he would be averse to. He would want you to feed him while blindfolded too, guessing what you’re feeding him.

Roleplay- he would love multiple types of roleplaying but be prepared he does not half-ass his roleplaying and it would be a turn off if you did too.

Aphrodisiacs- especially if it’s related to monsters/ made from monsters. He naturally has a fairly low sex drive and would be interested in the type of desperation and intensity they offer.

Sensory deprivation- as mentioned before, especially if it accompanied with impact play. He likes the idea of completely trusting someone and being at their will.

Pegging/ Anal on him- he wants to explore all types of pleasure with you so he would try it once, then become really into it, the feeling of being so full of you intoxicates him.

Anal on someone with a vagina- similar to above he wants to explore all types of sexual things with you, though he would prefer being inside your pussy. He thinks using butt plug for you is a perfect answer. (Bonus get matching but plugs and he would swoon.) If you don’t like it he would be willing to live with out it.

Overstimulation- both giving and receiving.

Not necessarily a kink but he would want to be sexually stimulated/ sexually stimulate you while cooking.

Lactation

Nipple play

Vore- mainly in theory I don’t wanna explain.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn’t like degradation. Giving or receiving. If it’s something you really like the furthest, he would go would be name calling like “his slut” or “his whore’. Same with him receiving it.

At your place. He lives with his sister and probably wouldn’t move until married or…. Other things. So, he would prefer not to risk his sister walking in or telling her not to come home while you're over. He would also be down for renting out somewhere like a hotel or a private room at a bathhouse. If possible, his favorite place would be someplace pretty in nature with no risk of being caught. Feeling free in nature, taking pleasure in each other’s bodies.

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

He for sure gets turned on by eating certain monsters, or just seeing them. If you were open to it, he would talk about them and what he likes about them with you during foreplay. Other things would be you displaying public affection for him verbally. He wouldn’t be a big fan of public physical displays of affection more than handholding or a chaste kiss but if you tell him, you love him or compliment him in public then he would get very excited. He loves it when you make it clear you aren’t ashamed of him.

N = No (something they would not do, turn offs)

Because it would be possible in universe, he would not want to kill you and bring you back to life. IDK why I feel like this should be stated, he also doesn’t like it if/when you risk your life for him.

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

Prefers to give, but we knew this already. Would want to give you oral almost every day, plus he's good at it. Paying attention to what you like and staying on the course. He would do THE MOST to make you feel good, he is somehow more verbal while giving oral than receiving it. Outside of the absolutely lewd clicking and licking sounds, he would whine while giving you oral and would orgasm untouched just by how excited it makes him.

When receiving oral he would enjoy it as well but wouldn’t ask for it outright much more preferring if it’s something you initiate. He would have his resting bitch face for the start, focusing on you and how you look. After it gets hotter and more intense, he would let out little whines and try to stop his hips from thrusting into your mouth. He wants so bad to be good for you. He would only pull his gaze from you as he gets close to his height, trying not to climax before you are ready. He likes when you pay attention the veins running up his cock, he is not a fan of making you gag, though he does take pleasure in the sensations it sends running up his cock, it makes him feel bad that you may be uncomfortable.

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

He tends to start slow and deep, thoroughly stretching you and letting you feel every inch of him. He wants to please you so he will try to do what you want but left to do what he wants he is honestly a little all over the place. He will speed up out of nowhere being rougher and sloppy as if he just can’t get enough.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)4

He does not want to risk being seen in public. He knows he’s not very socially aware and doesn’t want to make anyone dislike him by putting them in an awkward position.

Not a big fan of quickies. If you're in the dungeon and you need him, he will take you aside and take care of your needs up against a wall, after he has checked for traps.

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

You would have to bring up anything risky for him to try out right, he will not pick up on cues you drop. Even then he would be on the safer side of sex, willing to indulge in many things as long as he is prepared and there is a safe way to do it. He is more afraid of hurting you than himself honestly, especially if you want to have sex in the dungeon. He knows that you can be healed but he doesn’t want to take the risk of you being seriously hurt or worse eaten and digested.

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

As long as he remains untouched, he can make you feel good for hours. Whether he’s edging you or overstimulating you he will go for as long as you will let him. But if you touch him or let him in on you, he will last one round or two at most. He gets so into it and drunk on your touch that he’s almost tipsy afterwards and will want to just be by you after he orgasms.

After you he would be so into toys, mainly for you and to help you feel good. Though he would be so excited to try a monster inspired dildo/ sheath for you to fuck him with. Would want to use a monster based aphrodisiac with you, consensually. Also, if you got him a flesh light/dildo that was molded after you to take with him when he had to leave, he would probably bust upon seeing it. He would be too shy to use it in the dungeon and would probably leave it at home, afraid of losing it or having one of his party members see it. He would use it when Falin wasn’t home, and he couldn’t see you though.

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

Before you he may have bought some sort of self-sex powder made from a monster, but he was too scared to use it. Other than that, he didn’t really indulge in himself that much.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When in control he tends to be on the quieter side maybe like 30-50% volume, mainly small grunts and whines will escape. He will try to dirty talk or talk you through it, complimenting you and encouraging you.

He's not big on teasing, not verbally at least. He will want to make you horny in public and then do nothing about it until you both are at your place. But when its time he wants to get to the pleasure in a reasonable amount of time, letting the tension and excitement build but not being cruel about it. He has some self-worth issues so he gets off on you telling him how much you want him so he will tease you a little bit until you tell him how desperate you are for him.

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

After you get into a stable and official relationship, he would introduce roleplay. As I mentioned before roleplay with him can be intense but one scenario he likes and can be lax about is roleplaying that you are the spouse of some wealthy or high up person and are all alone and new to the island and he is your security guard/ knight your spouse sent to protect you on your travels. You meet in a tavern, and you tell him how lonely you are, that your spouse rarely pleases you. He tells you it would be wrong of him to take advantage of his boss’s trust but that he desires you as well. You would have saved up money to rent a nice room out for the night and you would rush to the room still in character letting your pretend yearning come to a climax.

When you are in control, particular if you are pegging him/ topping him he increases so much, the whining and moaning is almost every other breath for him, the volume level increases with the longer you’re fucking him and the closer he gets to his orgasm. Please overstimulate him he will turn unintelligent and insensible so fast, though he can’t handle it for very long before he drops.

W = Wild card (a random head canon for the character)

After this one scenario he would still call you by your honorable title out in public or in intimate moments.

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

He gets hard fairly often when he’s around you or thinks of you but that doesn’t mean that every time, he’s hard he wants to have sex or be touched. I think he is on the lower end of the sex drive when it comes to him wanting to be touched but on the higher end when it come to wanting to please you. I also head-canon him as greysexual so for most of his life he didn’t experience a lot of sexual attraction to people, nor did he want to satisfy himself in that way very often. He gets pleasure from tasting you and making you get off, but it isn’t necessarily just sexual pleasure.

Listen, Laios is an average man physically. That part of his draw. He is about 6 inches hard and has a slightly above-average girth. He is a grower and not a shower, though while soft he is a bit closer to his full size than average. His dick is slightly paler than the rest of him, save for his pink tip which gets darker in hue the more he gets aroused.

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

Related to the stamina thing, if he orgasmed, he will be out within like thirty minutes, less if you let him remain in you or you stay in him. If he just pleasured you, he would wait until you fell asleep first before letting himself drift off.

He will get very horny sometimes, don’t get me wrong, there will be times where for a full week you would have to use a crow bar to pry him off of you. It just varies, he’s getting used to being comfortable in his sexuality.

Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Masterlist

#nsft #lemon #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #laios x reader

104 notes · View notes

heavenlyakin · 1 year ago

Text

Illicit Affairs

Vampire!Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader - MINORS DNI

cw: 18+, minors DNI, reader is a british socialite, monster-fucking, religious imagery and language (reader isn’t necessarily religious but mentions god and the devil in the Christian sense), vore (bloodsucking), atsumu picks reader up, she falls a lot so if that annoys you don’t read this, “whore” is used in a derogatory way, Atsumu has electricity bc obvs (vampire science is better), violence (beheading on page and murder mention), age gap (like obvs he’s a vampire), virginity loss, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, general smut, and violence on page.

wc: ~15k

a/n: This is long. I’m sorry. However, I had the best time writing it, so maybe I’m not sorry. I would like to thank Kashi, Mimi, and Rue for all your time listening to me rant about this fic, reading it, giving me suggestions, and just being great friends to me. I hope you enjoy this short story! Happy Halloween!

–

Outside London, October 1845.

Right foot first.

As the music blasts through the chapel from the band to your right, you realize you can’t breathe. You try to inhale, but it does nothing. Seeing Graham standing at the end of the aisle makes you wish you’d skipped tea.

Left foot.

Your eyes scan the room, looking for the blonde head of hair of the woman your future husband has been fucking on the side. She’s from a London brothel, but Graham has given her an apartment outside of town and an allowance to live on.

Right foot.

Graham smiles at you.

Left foot.

All the smiling faces make you want to scream. Your father's hold on your arm, the bouquet, and the dress all feel suffocating—the dress’s pretty sleeves lined with baby blue lace and thread might as well be handcuffs.

Right foot.

He’s only a few steps away now. You spot the blonde face you don’t immediately recognize, two rows from the front. He would allow her to sit that close? It’s embarrassing enough to have the bridesmaids gossiping about it while you were dressing, but to sit her so close… it hurts.

Left foot.

The music comes to its crescendo. You have to get out of here.

Right foot.

You have to get out of here.

One last step.

Graham smiles at you again, his teeth pearly white and perfect. His green eyes sparkle. His brown hair combed back with product making him look older. As the music dies down, your father whispers something to you, but you can’t hear it.

The Priest steps forward, his lips moving, the cross dangling from the long chain on your neck swings from left to right. It gets hushed, everyone on the altar looking at you and your father too.

Did they say something to you?

“Apologies, can you repeat that?” You smile the best you can, and the Priest smiles back.

“We just need you to step forward,” the Priest answers and you realize your father agreed to give you away to Graham.

Your father had released his arm from yours, and you realize nothing is holding onto you anymore. You look to your father, his sweet supportive smile greeting you. Turning back to face Graham, you try to take a step forward, up onto the altar but your legs shake.

You can’t do this.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, dropping the beautiful bouquet to the ground.

Turning, you feel your father's fingers on your dress sleeve, but you don’t give him time to grip on. You’re darting back down the aisle and out of the chapel. Your feet move faster than your mind, only able to think one thing.

Please don’t fall or break a heel. Please don’t fall or break a heel.

The chapel is on the outskirts of town, and running north of it takes you into the woods. You trip as you begin to climb the hill, your shoes catching on roots and debris. You push yourself off the ground, seeing your dress's hem is already caked in mud. Shaking your head, you ignore it and take off as fast as you can. The incline stops soon, and you’re fighting through the underbrush.

The sun is setting, lighting everything in an orange glow as the fog begins to set in the forest. You’re still running, well, running would be a stretch. Your breathing is heavy and your lungs burn with each inhale. How long has it been since you took off from the chapel? The wedding began at 6, and with the sun setting you believe it’s nearing 7.

How much distance can you put between you and them in an hour?

You turn, looking back, and see only trees and brush. Even when you try to focus your eyes, you can’t see the lights from town. You must be at least a few miles into the forest now. You take off again, more at a speed walk than a run. Your legs are sore and your heels feel blistered in the heels you chose for this day.

As you climb up another hill, you wonder what the fuck you’re doing. You could be off to your honeymoon now, two months traveling Europe and visiting castles and ruins. It would be warm in your rooms and only partly miserable, having to listen to Graham and suffering the consummation of the marriage. Not that you worried he’d be bad, but that you wouldn’t live up to what he's used to with that mistress of his.

Graham isn’t friendly to be around alone, either. The few times you were left unsupervised he reminded you of the position you were in. Your mother ran off years ago, apparently with a sailor; ruining your family’s reputation, despite the wealth your father holds. Marrying him would restore your name, and he’d be the one to inherit your fortune since you are the only child of your father.

He insulted you, a few times, but then smiled like he was saying something friendly. His kisses on your hand always lingered too long for your comfort. Something about him just made your skin crawl, honestly. The idea of spending the rest of your life with that man led you here to the woods.

As you reach the top of the hill, it plateaus and the trees become more sparse, well if you can call it sparse. Looking around, the fog has entirely settled at the base of the trees and brush, making it hard to see. You slow down to a walk, letting yourself catch your breath as you go. You stumble on your dress and the fallen branches, making you fall on your face. Luckily, you caught yourself before your face took the brunt of it, but your right cheek does hit the ground.

When you push yourself back up, you see a faint yellow glow across the way, through a few trees and bushes. You gather the skirts of your dress in your hands and make your way towards it, the chill in your body desperate for the hope of a fire. As you get close, you see the shadowy figure of a body, large and brooding.

The light seems to be coming from a lantern, so you give up hope of getting warm anytime soon. You take a few more steps until you see what’s happening. The figure is digging a hole in the ground, a body lying beside the mound of dirt. As you step back, a twig snaps, and the figure turns towards you.

You run again, getting a few feet away before you fall, your body hitting the ground with a thud. Unlike last time, you didn’t catch yourself. Your right ankle throbs and you worry you’ve broken it. As you turn to face away from the ground, the figure that was once yards away is now hovering over you. How did they get here so fast? It’s only been a few seconds.

It’s a man, an extremely handsome man. His eyes glow gold, and it confuses you but something about it calms your nerves, even though you know you should be running. Yet, you’re frozen in place.

He extends out his hand, and you see his nails are long, and sharpened to a point on the tips. “Are you in need of assistance, miss?”

You nod your head, unable to make a sound. However, you still can’t move. Even if you took his hand, with your ankle throbbing the way it is, you’re certain you can’t walk.

“Here, let me help you,” He leans down, and you notice something on his face. Is that blood or mud? In the light, you can’t tell.

He picks you up, holding you bridal-style against his chest. His scent enthralls you, rose with a hint of mahogany. You inhale, the scent putting you at ease and your eyes flutter shut for a moment.

This…, you think, this is what you’re supposed to feel on your wedding day.

You shake the thought from your mind, opening your eyes and observing the man carrying you. His blonde hair falls over his forehead, his skin creamy smooth and almost glowing in the faint moonlight.

“Who are you?” You find your voice.

“Atsumu,” he answers. “Atsumu Miya.”

You nod, looking forward and letting him carry you through the woods. You’re still well aware of the throbbing in your right ankle. “Where are you taking me?”

“I live close by. You can rest there and clean up.” He says, still not looking at you.

His eyes are focused on the forest ahead of him, and you wonder what close by means to him. It could be an hour if he considers that close. The sun has set now, and the only glow is from his eyes and the moon. He left the lantern back with the body…

The body! He was burring a body!

“Let me go!” You thrash against him and he holds you tighter, looking down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “I said, let me go!” You yell this time.

When your eyes meet his, something washes over you again and you begin to relax, no longer feeling the urge to fight. But… but… he was burying someone. A body! What was he doing back there? Why are you not fighting anymore?

“Who was that back there? The body!” Even if you feel relaxed, you can still question him.

Atsumu looks down at you, his face unreadable but his eyes giving that same intense look that he’s had on his face the whole time.

“Nothing you should be concerned with.” He looks back ahead of you as he walks.

The forest begins to open up, a clearing forming ahead. As you get closer, the frame of a large house… well, if you can call it a house. It looks more like a castle. The gates around the home open as Atsumu approaches, creaking as they go. The fog seems to have vanished, hiding out at the edge of the forest.

Warm lights glow from inside the castle, and you wonder if running water is inside. In the last five years, running water has even been installed in the lower class homes, and with the amount of wealth, this castle shows… it must. A warm bath sounds so delightful now, you could almost beg for one.

As if he’s read your mind he speaks, “I’ll have a bath drawn for you once we're inside.”

You nod, looking up at him. He continues to look forward, but you see a vein bulging from his neck. Like something in him is straining. He seems to carry you just fine, so it can’t be you causing the strain.

As the castle doors open, your eyes dart around to look everywhere. The entrance is grand, decorated in the latest fashion with dark wood, red rugs, and warm light glowing from every corner of the room. The staircase has a gothic feel, leading forward and then splitting to go left and right to the opposite wings of the castle.

He carries you up the stairs that lead to the right wing of the castle, taking you down a long hall that curves as you go. A set of double doors open, as if he willed them to, and he sets you down on a forest green sofa. Your body relaxes into it, the soft cushions welcoming your sore bones.

Atsumu brings the room to life with light, the chandelier lighting overhead. You admire the crystal work before looking around the bedroom. It’s larger than your father’s master bedroom in your estate back home. You watch as Atsumu sheds his cloak, lying it across a chaise near the four-poster bed.

“Your bath should be ready, do you need assistance?” He asks, walking towards you and you shake your head.

“I believe I can take it from here. Thank you,” you dismiss him.

He doesn’t leave. He puts his hands behind him, stepping aside, so you can go through to what you assume is the bathing room. You stand, putting your weight on your left foot so you can try and make it to the bath. As you step on your right, you cry out in pain. You begin to fall, but strong arms catch you.

“Stop being difficult, just let me assist you.” He growls, clearly frustrated with you now.

He hooks his arms behind your body and lifts you again, taking you to the bathing room. There’s steam coming from the bathtub and your body aches for it. He sets you on a chair, his fingers moving to undo the buttons of your dress. You’re embarrassed, face heating more and more as his fingers lower on your back, exposing the corset beneath the bodice of the dress.

“If you just get the corset undone, I think I can take it from here,” your voice feels small and weak.

“I can help you to the tub,” he insists and you don’t feel like fighting.

After the day you’ve had, there isn’t much fight left in you.

You work on untangling the veil and pins from your hair as Atsumu unlaces the corset. His cold fingers brush your skin, and you begin to worry he’s freezing as well. Maybe you should let him bathe first… it is his home after all.

“You should bathe and warm up first,” you turn your head over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of him as he pulls the last bit of the corset sting out. Your hands go up to catch the dress so you’re not exposed to him.

“Don’t be foolish,” he shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“If you insist,” you give in, the warmth of the water sounding too good to fight him on. “Will you turn away?”

He turns away, not looking as you slip out of the wedding dress, shoes, and undergarments. You’re able to wobble to the tub, holding onto its side as you step in and settle down into the hot water. The sigh you let out is necessary, and you sink into the water to your collarbones.

“I think I can handle bathing myself for now,” you tell him and he nods.

You watch as he leaves, taking in his looming figure. Letting yourself sink under the water, covering your entire body in warmth, you take in today's events. The town must be gossiping about how you’re just like your mother. Running off and ruining your reputation even further.

Your father, your poor father. He must be a wreck missing you. Will he send people to search for you?

The part of the woods you ran into is rarely foraged or hunted. The more you think about it, the more you begin to remember the old fairytales your friends would tell you about this forest. Stories of missing children, vampires, werewolves, and even fairies floating around the woods. Maybe you’ve stumbled into one of those legends that the town’s kids will tell others. The runaway bride and the handsome spooky suitor.

You come up for air, laughing as you think about it all.

“Oh dear,” you sigh to yourself, and then you feel the presence of someone else in the room. You sit up, pulling your knees to your chest, too fast. Your ankle shoots like pins and needles, making you cry out.

Atsumu is kneeling by the tub instantly, and you try to conserve some modesty as he examines you in the tub. Your hands cover your cleavage, hoping your knees suffice for the remainder of your breasts, even with your ankle threatening to give out.

“What is it? Is it your ankle?” He asks, eyes soft and focused on your face.

You nod. “I think it’s broken.” You tell him, letting yourself stretch it out as you cover your breast with your hand.

“May I?” He asks, his hand gesturing to your ankle.

You nod.

“Let’s see,” he dips his hand into the water, and you lay back, making it easier for him to lift your leg out of the water.

His hands are cold on your skin, and you wonder how he deals with being this cool all the time. He feels around your ankle, and you notice it's slightly swollen. Your heels look torn up from the heels you wore, and you notice some of the water dripping from your heel is red.

“Please be gentle,” you squeak, worried you’ll pester him.

“I assure you,” he tells you smiling at you before his fingers begin to lightly feel out around your ankle. “I believe it’s just a sprain. No signs of a break.” He sets your foot gently back down into the tub. “Just some rest, ice, and a wrap will take care of it. I’ll see to your care while you’re here.”

“What makes you think I’m staying here?” You shoot back, suddenly irritated.

His eyes lock on yours, and that strange calmness settles over you again. Finally, you realize what that look in his eye is, it’s a hunger you’ve never seen. His whole body is tense, really, and you swear he swallows every time his eyes go to your throat. You swallow now, keeping your eyes on him and sitting back up in the tub, struggling to keep yourself covered.

“C-can I have some of that soap?” You ask, looking at the rack behind him, loaded with different soaps and salts. “And a washrag?”

He nods, turning his torso to grab a bar of lavender-colored soap and a rag from the shelf behind him. You realize as he holds it out, you have to uncover your breasts. Your heart pounds against your chest, your cheeks heat up, and your breath quickens. Some part of you wants him to look, wondering what he will say or do; but the years of your Governess teaching you that your body is only for your husband.

But what does that matter now? You ran away from your fiance. You can’t go back nor do you want to. You move your hands from your breasts, taking the soap and rag from him, lathering it after dipping it in the water.

“You have some cuts on your face, probably from the briars in the forest.” He says, not looking below your collarbone. “Would you allow me to treat them?”

You nod and scrub the mud from your ankles and the dirt on your hands. Once you get to your heels, you realize the blisters have busted and could easily become infected.

“You might need to treat my heels when you treat my ankle,” you say sheepishly.

“Anything you need,” he tells you, gathering supplies at the medicine cabinet across the bathroom.

You’re able to scrub yourself clean, even reaching out of the tub to grab a bottle of shampoo to scrub through your hair. You’re embarrassed by the amount of leaves you found. By the time Atsumu has returned to your side, you feel refreshed.

“This may sting,” he tells you, before taking the white cloth and patting it gently to your forehead.

He’s right it does sting. There must be half a dozen cuts on your face, you realize as he continues to clean the wounds. You didn’t notice it as you were running but with all the falling you did, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“So, will you tell me what you were running from?” He asks finally, a few moments after cleaning the cut. He drops the cloth into the small bowl where he had the cleaning solution and puts it on the shelf behind him.

He rests his elbows on the edge of the tub, cupping his face in his hands. When you look at him you can’t help but think how pretty he looks like this.

“It’s a long story,” you say, sounding exasperated.

“Trust me, I have all the time in the world.” He laughs like it’s an inside joke with himself.

“I want to dry off before I give you the gossip of my tragic life.” You laugh, smiling at him. “Can I have a robe?”

“Of course,” he leaves the bathroom, coming back with a red robe, holding it out for you.

You stand, holding your weight on your left side and trying to balance and step out of the tub. As you step out, your foot catches on the tub and you begin to fall. Atsumu catches you, your wet naked body pressed against his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. It’'s embarrassing how many times you’ve fallen today, let alone the times he’s had to catch you.

He swallows slowly, and you watch as his features change, his eyes darkening and jaw tensing. His arms tighten around you, pressing your breasts against him tighter. His face moves towards you, and your eyes go wide.

His lips taste like iron but with a hint of sweetness. Your eyes flutter shut, and your lips move against his. You’ve never kissed anyone before, and now you see what all the girls giggle about behind their fans. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you part yours, letting him in. His fingertips dig into your skin. You grip his shoulders, steadying yourself on him. You break away first, gasping for air, unable to sustain yourself just on him.

His eyes look even darker than before. He looks at you with that same hunger as earlier, and you feel something stir inside you that you’ve never felt before. What is this feeling? It’s like hunger but stronger and in your chest. Your heart is pounding so fast you worry it may explode.

Is this desire?

Atsumu clears his throat, “Let’s get those feet of yours treated.” He lifts you once more, carrying your wet body to the bedroom and laying you gently on the bed. “Stay here.”

Like you’re equipped to run away from him after all this…

He disappears down the hall for a few minutes, so you take your time examining the room around you. You had time before, but your mind was so foggy you wondered if there was anything you missed. Looking around, you see there are no mirrors in this room. That’s odd.

“I found some bandages. They should help keep infection away,” Atsumu tells you as he walks into the bedroom. “Also, the cleansing solution will help. I’ll clean and change your wounds daily until they’re healed.”

He sits on the bottom of the bed, taking your legs in his lap.

“It may help if you lay on your stomach.” He smiles, looking at you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you roll around, laying on your stomach and propping yourself up with your elbows.

You try to look over your shoulder, but the angle Atsumu sits at while cleaning and bandaging your heels and wrapping your right ankle so it doesn’t strain anymore. Once he’s done, you sit up, dangling your feet off the bed.

“Can I get that robe now?” You ask, a laugh passing your lips.

“Oh,” Atsumu blushes, and you smile. “Let me get that,” he goes to the bathroom, likely where he dropped it on the floor before catching you. “However, if I give you this robe…” he dangles it in front of you, just out of reach, “you have to tell me what happened to you.”

You nod and he hands you the robe. You manage to stand just fine, slipping it on and tying it around you. With the wrap on your ankle, you find the throbbing has stopped and it’s fine to put some weight on it. Sitting back down, you let out a sigh.

“So, I was supposed to get married today.” You tell him and he laughs. “What’s so funny?”

“I find you in a wedding dress, clearly distraught, and that’s not obvious?” He sits down on the bed with you, crossing his legs and resting his arms on them. His hands fold into each other and his focus seems entirely on you.

“Well,” you laugh, “you’re right.” Then, you get into the nitty-gritty.

The engagement and how it came about due to your family reputation. Then the ex whore who sat front row at your wedding. Then the decision to run because of Graham and his terrible personality. All of it comes flooding out, and you don’t know when but at one point you start crying.

“And my poor father,” you sob, “he must be so confused and worried and cross with me.”

Atsumu flexes his hand like he wants to reach out to you, but something makes him stop. You look down at your own hands, in your lap, nails biting into the skin. Sometime during the retelling of your miserable day and engagement, you began squeezing them into fists.

“I’m sure he would understand if you told him all this,” Atsumu says, his voice soft. “I can arrange for someone to take you back in the morning if you’re worried about him.”

That’s the last thing you want.

“Or not, it’s up to you.” He relents, probably reading the look on your face. “You can stay with me as long as you want.” He laughs, gesturing with his hand around the room. “I clearly have more than enough room.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, truly.” You wrap your arms around your body, a chill running through you. “I’m in your debt.”

Atsumu leans forward, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you again. “You don’t have to thank me,” he touches your face softly, his skin still cold against yours.

You yawn and realize you need to rest, seriously rest… perhaps for a week. “Where am I sleeping tonight?”

His hand drops from your face and you swear you see a flash of disappointment on his face. “I have a room down the hall for you. I started a fire in there when you were bathing, so it should be warm by now.”

“Th-”

“You don’t need to thank me.” He interrupts, standing and holding his arm out for you to take. “Let's see if you can handle walking that far.”

You hook your arm with his, knowing you’ll need him to support your right side. He walks slowly, staying at your pace as you limp down the hall to the room he points out. It’s only a few yards away from his bedroom. The fire is roaring in the fireplace, illuminating and warming the room. He helps you onto the four-poster bed, covering you in the thick blankets.

“If you need anything, just call for me. I’ll leave the door open so I can hear you.” Atsumu smiles, his face warm and full of something you’re unsure of.

Quite frankly, you’re unsure of a lot today.

You thank him several more times, and he accepts them all with grace. He leaves the room after some time and you’re left staring up at the ceiling, wondering what tomorrow will bring. After the chaos of today, you’re sure it can’t be any worse.

–

You awake and it’s not quite dawn out. Your ankle no longer feels like it’s throbbing, so you swing your legs off the bed and stand, unbalanced at first but after a few steps you’re fine to walk on your own. You grab a chamberstick and light it with the matches you find in a drawer near the fireplace.

The hallway is dark, as you expected, but not too chilly. You walk down the long hallway until you come to the top of the stairs where Atsumu carried you in. You go past them to the other wing of the castle, which is much darker. No rooms have any glow coming from them and you wonder why. At the end of the hall, two grand doors are open and a faint fire is illuminating it.

You hold out your candle, lighting the entrance, and realize it’s a library. Fumbling around you find the switch to turn on the lights, illuminating the room. The walls are lined with hundreds, no… thousands of books. The western part of the room goes back deeper than you could have imagined, with lines and lines of shelves holding books of all shapes and colors.

The room is daunting, to say the least.

There are several tables spread out, mostly clean with a book or two, but a desk catches your eye. Against the far wall in front of a row of windows, a long mahogany desk sits with stacks of books and several opened and tabbed in multiple places from what you can see. You approach the desk, interested to find out what Atsumu has deemed so interesting himself.

The largest book is about 800 pages thick you’d guess, if not longer. It looks old, the ends of the pages frayed and yellowing. Looking at its contents you see there’s a language you can’t quite read, old English or German you presume by the looks of it. After carefully marking the page with a blank sheet of paper, you flip to another bookmark.

This page is in English, listing names and dates of birth and death. You scan the names, none you recognize of course. The name Lestar is similar to your mother’s family name, Lesair. However, something is strange about the dates… they’re too far apart. Many of them say they’re well into their third century of life before they die, some more than that. This can’t be right. Is this a fictional novel with a family tree given for context?

You turn the page, showing a family tree with portraits of each of the names. They’re all eerily beautiful, the men and women. This family was surely blessed. The family tree continues into the next few pages until it abruptly stops in the late 1790s. A small asterisk with a note reading:

Lost to history is the remainder of the bloodline that carried the sun's blessing.

What could that mean?

You shake your head, too tired to try and play games with a book. You flip back to the page it was left open on, placing the blank sheet of paper back in its stack. Turning your attention to the book to its right you see it has a family name on its spine, the same family name as the characters in the book you were flipping through.

Opening the page, it looks to be biographies of each character. What dedication must an author have to write that out for each character in their stories? It’s something you can’t imagine plotting out, but you admire it. Placing it back down, you look to the left. Another stack of books, the one on top opened to the middle of the book.

You sit on the chair, take the book, and mark the page with that same blank paper, turning to the first page.

It is not known when we first awoke, but what is known is that we are not some fairytale come to life. The reign of Vampires ended in the early 1300s, but we still persist and exist in the far corners of the world. Tucked away we may be, the bloodlines of those still around are strong.

You laugh. Atsumu is into Vampire lore?

The page continues to give a brief history of vampire beginnings and how their bloodlines decreased as centuries passed. None of this was allowed in your schools or at home with your family. Anything that mentioned the unholy was strictly burned or taken by the church.

After a few chapters, you place the book back, making a mental note to remember you’re at chapter 4 if you decide to come back to it. After you’re certain you’ve left everything exactly how you found it, you leave the library, turning the lights off as you go.

The candle lights your way back down the hall and down the steps, following the trail of light to the right wing of the castle once again, this time just on the lower level. You pass what looks to be a kitchen, and then you enter a dark room that gives you chills as you step inside. With no light switch, you struggle down a few stone steps further into what reminds you of a dungeon or jail.

“Water, please,” a hoarse voice chokes out and you jump back, managing to not scream.

You shakily turn your candle towards the voice, finding a frail man in a jail cell, his arm reaching out towards you. The scene is horrific. He looks to be your age, but something about him seems older. Perhaps being jailed will do that to a person.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have water.” You tell him, kneeling down in front of him.

His jail cell is disgusting; it takes everything in you not to gag as the smell lingers.

“The key, it’s back on the wall by the door. Please let me out.”

A chill washes over your body. Suddenly, you remember that Atsumu was burying a body when you ran into him. Now, you're finding he has someone captured in this cell. Who is he and why is he doing these things?

“Why are you here? Why did Atsumu do this?” You ask, a flood of different emotions racing through you.

“He’s psychotic,” the man hisses, rage seeping through his tone. “Please, madam, I’m begging you to set me free. Hurry before he finds out you’re here.”

You stand up, going to search for the key. Maybe this man will help lead you back to town to your father. Then perhaps your father will take you back in and help you fix the life you’ve screwed up. After finding the key, you unlock the jail cell.

“Can you help me find-” before you finish your sentence, the man has pushed you to the ground.

The candle you were holding falls to the side, illuminating only his face. His eyes are glowing red and wild. You scream, but the man covers your mouth with his hand.

“Stupid girl, I’m surprised Atsumu hasn’t already taken a bite out of you.” As he talks you notice his canines are strangely long and pointed.

Your eyes widen and you realize that this isn’t a normal man. His strength, despite looking frail, is abnormal. His eyes, his teeth, his strength… he can’t be.

Vampires aren’t real.

They’re not real.

They’re not.

“Get. Off. Her.” The sound of Atsumu’s voice burns your ears.

The man looks up from you and his eyes narrow as he hisses Atsumu’s name. He jumps off of you and towards the sound of Atsumu’s voice. You scurry to the corner towards the candle, grabbing it and holding it towards the sound of fighting.

As the light illuminates the two male figures, you see Atsumu snap the man’s neck. The body falls to the ground while the head remains in Atsumu’s hands. He drops the head when he sees you looking at him, horror clear on your face.

“-----,” your name rings off his lips.

“No!” You scoot back further into the corner, your back hitting the wall. “Don’t come near me!”

He doesn’t listen.

“Please, let me explain.” Atsumu is in front of you, kneeling in front of you and holding his hand out to you. “I’m begging you to hear me out.”

You don’t feel inclined to grab his hand this time, the feeling of urgency still racing through your body. When Atsumu had scared you, you almost felt compelled to relax and not think about what you’d witnessed. Now, everything feels clear.

“I want to know what is going on now!” You yell at him and smack his hand away from you. “How did you rip that man's head off? Why did you have him in that jail cell?”

Atsumu stands, turning away from you and walking a few steps away. “If you come with me, I’ll answer any questions you have.”

You watch as he goes, stepping over the body by the door and down the hall. After a few shaky breaths, you stand up and walk to the door leading to the hallway. You have to step over the body of the man and around the severed head. When you get in the hallway, you see Atsumu going further down into the foyer of the house.

Following him, he takes you down the only hall you haven’t explored. The room he walks into appears to be a large kitchen from the hall. You take a few moments to collect your thoughts before walking in. When you enter the room, a wave of warmth hits you from the brick oven on the wall. It seems to have been firing all night.

“Do you like tea?” He asks and you nod.

“With honey.” You sit at the counter where a long bench is under the overhang.

After a few minutes, he sets a white teacup with dark tea steeping in the cup. You let it sit for a few more, Atsumu pacing to your left by shelves full of different herbs and teas from what you can tell.

“Are you going to answer my questions?” You finally ask after taking a sip of your tea.

“That man you saw me kill, was a despicable being. He’d killed at least a dozen girls in London in ways you could not begin to fathom.” Atsumu turns to you, his eyes dark. “I was planning on letting him starve to death down there and you ruined it.”

“What was he? His eyes were glowing red and his strength was… inhuman.” You tell him. “His teeth were sharp like a…” you don’t finish the sentence.

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it, —--.”

“A vampire.”

He nods and your world feels like it’s been turned upside down.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He assures you but you smack his hand away again.

“Don’t touch me.” You tell him, reeling away from his touch.

“I’m sorry.” He steps back, his face falling.

“So those books in your library… they’re not fiction.” He nods. “What are you?”

“You know.” He says, turning away and looking out the window into the dark sky towards the moon.

“Fuck,” for the first time in your life, you feel like you’re never going to come back from this.

Even after running away from your wedding. That could have been solved, fixed even. This? Will Atsumu even allow you to leave now that you know what he is? It’s terrifying to think you grew up not far from this immortal being, lurking in the woods you played in as a child with friends.

However, when you think about it, no one ever went missing in the village. No one was ever found suspiciously dead.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He says and you narrow your eyes.

“Can you read my mind too?”

“What?” His face contours in confusion. “I can’t read minds and what do you mean by too?”

You sigh in relief and lean forward, elbows on the counter. “You have some sort of relaxation power, don’t you? It’s the only reason I didn't freak out after I saw you burying that body… I wanted to run away and scream but I felt compelled to trust you and calm down. That’s not natural. I shouldn’t have conveniently forgotten about the body until now either.”

Atsumu sits across from you, his eyes watching you. Those golden brown eyes are mesmerizing in every way and something about the golden hue is also unnatural. Everything about him is, you suppose. After all, he isn’t a creature of God’s making but perhaps the devil.

“I do have the power to compel people to my will, that is what you’ve felt.” He admits, his posture stiffening. “I’m sorry for using it on you, but I couldn’t have you running off in that panicked state blabbering about what you saw in the woods. The best case scenario is the town comes looking for me, the worst case is you end up in an asylum. I was burying the body of another vampire who I’d imprisoned for similar crimes to the man who attacked you earlier. I don’t harm humans when I can help it.”

“When you can help it?”

“I do have to feed,” he tells you, “but I try not to kill or turn them when I do it.”

You nod, taking another sip of your tea. “Are you planning on doing that to me?”

He grins, actually grins, then says, “Only if you want me to.”

Something in your stomach flutters and you’re scared of this side of yourself. Why do you have the inclination to let him?

“Something wrong?” He asks, that same grin on his stupid face. “Did that intrigue you?”

You shake your head no.

“Liar.” He stands up, taking your empty tea cup and placing it in the sink. “It can be pleasurable,” he says, running water over the cup. “Some people volunteer for the satisfaction of it all.”

Your face burns now, looking down at the counter and your hands turning into fists. Why would he be flirting with you after all of this? You move your hands to your lap, relaxing them and rubbing your thighs through your nightgown. Atsumu turns the water off and you look up as he dries the teacup with a towel, placing it back on the shelf it came from.

“I have a proposal.” He says, turning back to face you. You tilt your head in curiosity. “We no longer lie to one another. Even if it’s hard, we tell the truth. I suppose you don’t want to go back home after running away and I clearly would rather you stay here and keep my secret.”

You nod. “I agree to the terms, but I still have questions.”

“I would assume you have many. It would be strange if you didn’t.”

“What were you studying in the library? I read some pages from a few of the books, thinking they were fictional and now I’m more confused than ever.”

“Come with me. I’ll show you.” He offers his hand, and you hesitate. “Honesty, we promised.”

“I didn’t promise, I agreed to the terms.” You correct him, placing your hand in his.

He leads you out of the kitchen and down the hall further. “There are steps on either end of the halls as well, just so you know. That way you’re not running back and forth to get to the main staircase.” He leads you up a less ornate staircase, leading right into the dark library. Atsumu releases your hand and steps away, the lights illuminating the room a few moments later.

You walk over to his desk by the windows, noticing the drapes are not shut. Why did they close? Ah, it will be morning soon. Opening the largest book on the center of the desk you flip to the page with the asterisk you remember.

Lost to history is the remainder of the bloodline that carried the sun's blessing.

You read the line aloud, looking at Atsumu. “What does this mean? Who are these people?”

Atsumu lounges in his desk chair before answering. “The sun’s blessing means that these vampires were able to be out in the sun, living more normal lives than most of us. It’s unknown why they had the ability to withstand the star’s light, but they could.”

“They live among us?”

“They did before they went missing. One morning they were in their familial homes, and the next vanished as if into thin air.” He sighs. “I want to know what happened to them. It doesn’t make sense for them to uproot their lives without reason. They were a secretive clan amongst us, but there are theories.”

He gets up, as if excited, walking quickly to a shelf across the room. He takes a few moments, scanning the spines of books before grabbing an emerald green book and bringing it to the desk. When you see it, it also has several tabs on it.

“You see, there are stories of other vampires inheriting this ability as if the family gifted it to them. There’s no record of how it happens, but there has to be a way.” He turns to a page about a third of the way into the book, full of notes in the margins. “Here this author theorizes it was from something they ingested, but we can’t stomach the food humans eat, so it could have been an herb of some sort in a tea.”

“You can drink tea?” You ask, taken aback.

“Of course,” he laughs. “It’s why I keep so many.” He opens to another page. He smiles as he reads some of the lines and you lean on his desk. “Here the author suggests that they blood let and shared it with the vampires who inherited the gift.”

“Did they ingest it?” You ask and Atsumu shrugs.

“It’s against our laws to feed from another vampire, so I wouldn’t think so. But, that is a possibility. They could have injected it into themselves, but even that seems too close to feeding.” Atsumu closes the book and takes it back to the shelf it came from.

“Why are you so obsessed with them?” You ask, looking at the portraits and names once more.

Charlotta Lestar died in 1767, 343 years after her birth by your calculations. Her child, a son named James, seems to still be living. There’s no death date for him and a few others, but that could just be unknown since they all disappeared. You flip to the next page and it begins to give the family history, starting with the first recorded Lestar family member.

“Did you know any of them?” You ask when he doesn’t answer your last question.

He nods and sits back in his chair. “Our families were friends. I knew Charlotta’s children well.”

“How old are you?” You ask, partly scared to hear the answer.

“213, respectfully. You?”

“24,” you answer, feeling ashamed. All of your friends had married by 20 and you were here, still unwed and slowly turning into an old maid.

“A drop in time to me,” he smiles, taking your hand and squeezing it.

“You never told me why you were looking into the family,” you remind him.

He sighs, then rolls up the long sleeves of his shirt. Starting at his wrists and all the way up to his elbows, you notice small white patches, almost like scars. “I’ve been testing my methods with the sun. When I was a child I tried to follow James out one morning and nearly died. I have these marks all over my body.” He looks up to you and there’s something like desperation in his eyes.

“My work would be so much easier if I could go out during the day. Having to hunt and feed at night makes things harder. I can research during the day just fine, but being confined to this home drives me mad.” He continues.

“Being trapped at home is something of a nightmare,” you agree. “Can I help? I love reading and maybe some fresh eyes on the material would help you.”

“You’d want to do that?” He asks and you nod. He smiles and jumps up from his chair again. “You need to start with the histories, first. I know it’s here somewhere,” he scans a shelf by his desk. “Ah, yes, here it is.” The book he hands you looks to be recently rebounded. The pages are much older than the bindings.

“I’ll read it today.” You open the cover and look at the author, noting the name Osamu Miya, relation of Atsumu’s perhaps. “Do you rest during the day?”

“I don’t need sleep like humans.” He tells you. “I do rest, but it’s mostly to keep from having to feed too often I usually spend my days in here. The human staff I have take care of the house during the day and believe me to be one of you. I beg of you not to make them think otherwise.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Atsumu nods quickly with a smile, “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend.”

–

The next few weeks are full of studying, time passing quickly. Atsumu has his staff fill the kitchen with food and your dressing room with clothing. All your needs are met, but something else is pulling at you. The days you spend reading in the library with Atsumu become your reason for waking up.

You rarely think about Graham or your father. Whatever they have been doing seems to not concern you, since no one has come knocking at the castle doors. Perhaps they’ve forgotten about you, something that stings but isn’t all that bad. You hope they’ve found happiness in the way you have.

Atsumu even begins to let you in on what he does during the nights when he disappears from the castle. He’s been charged with capturing vampires who are gluttonous or vile in their killings. There are no laws about killing within their society, but they don’t like to draw attention to themselves. Atsumu handles the situations where some are. However, he stops keeping prisoners in his home.

He educates you on the histories of vampires, the different covens, clans, and even families within them. After a month you are pretty sure you’re a walking history book, but you’ve learned nothing about the Lestar family. One afternoon, you decide to ask about them.

“When will I begin helping you with the Lestar family?” You ask, putting the last book you finished on the shelf.

Atsumu looks up from his writing, his hair disheveled. “Do you feel like you know enough about my kind to begin?”

You sit across from him at the table he’s been at since last night. “I believe I am. Quiz me!”

“Question one, what do we eat?” he grins as he asks.

“Shut up, ask me something serious.” You laugh, your foot rubbing against his leg as you swing your feet under the table.

He grins at you and you pull away, mouthing a sorry to him. It’s not like you haven’t touched Atsumu before, after all, the kiss you shared was the most intimate thing you’ve experienced in your short life.

“Where should I start now?” You ask, eager to read about the family of vampires who lived among humans and walked in the sun.

“Any of the books I have on them are just fine places to start. However, if you want theories, you can read this one here,” he slides the same emerald green book from that first night in the library. “My brother wrote this, actually.”

You open the cover and see a familiar name, “Osamu Miya?” Atsumu nods. “I guess it seems you’re not the only one obsessed.”

“We all grew up together, it’s not that surprising, is it?” He laughs, resting his head on his hand. “Osamu is just better at writing than me. I send him everything I come up with and he does the same.”

“I’d like to meet him one day,” you decide.

“We’ll see about that.” He goes back to reading his book and you begin yours.

The theories his brother presents on the family are numerous, but nothing is conclusive. Everything about the family was kept so secretive that even family friends had no idea how they were able to be in the sun without being killed. The trait was passed down to family members by birth, no matter which parent had the trait.

The only vampires granted the power were those who married into the family, and most of them seemed to be random. The reasoning behind the partnerships isn’t love, power, or money. Whatever their deciding factor was, is still as unclear as the transformation itself.

By the time you’re through the book, it’s evening. You yawn and your stomach growls. Despite the snacks the staff brought you throughout the day, you’re starving.

“Would it be weird if you joined me for dinner? I know you can’t eat, but it gets lonely in the dining room.” It feels awkward asking, but after a month of silent dinners, you’re not sure you can stand another.

“I’d love to join you. I’ll have tea while you eat.” He smiles, standing from his chair. His clothes are as disheveled as his hair. “If you’ve been lonely, why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

You shrug, “I didn’t want to bother you more than I already have.”

Atsumu halts walking, stopping atop the stairs. “You’ve never been a bother to me,” he takes your hand. “I’ve been delighted to have you in my home.”

Your face heats up and you bite your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing too wide. “I’ve had a better time with you than I’ve had in the last ten years of my life.”

Atsumu steps closer to you, his hand caressing your cheek. You look up at him, lips slightly parted, but you’re unable to speak.

“I hope you know what you mean to me.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and your stomach flutters.

You grab his waist, pulling his body closer to yours. “Atsumu,” you whine.

“What is it?” He asks, his lips grazing your forehead. You whine again. “You have to tell me what you want.”

“Kiss me,” you say after a few moments.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he kisses you quickly, his lips moving against yours with a hunger you’ve never experienced.

His lips taste sweet now, but the tinge of iron is still there. You wonder when the last time he fed was, a pang of jealousy washing through you. Your fingers grip him tightly, your body flush with his. His tongue teases your lips and you part your mouth, letting him in.

He pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, eyes on your lips. “I want to show you so many things,” he whispers. “Will you let me?”

You nod.

“I want you to say it.”

“Please, show me everything.”

Atsumu grins, picking you up in his arms, your gown riding up around your thighs as you hook your legs around him. You kiss him again, biting his bottom lip and making him growl. Before you know it, he’s slamming his bedroom door shut and dropping you down on his bed.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, crawling on the bed on top of you.

“Touch me,” you breathe out.

“Have you ever?”

You shake your head no and something flashes in his eyes.

He leans down, kissing you and sliding your dress up your thighs. “You can tell me to stop whenever you want,” he whispers, kissing down your throat.

Your heart races, knowing how easily he could drain you of your blood now is something you never expected to worry about. Each nip of his teeth at your skin reminds you of it. You begin to feel too hot, desperate for him to rip this godforsaken gown off of you.

“Get this dress off of me,” you beg, writhing under Atsumu.

He sits up, his eyes wild. He pulls you up into a sitting position before flipping you onto your stomach to undo the many buttons down your back. You feel the cooler air hit your skin and whimper as Atsumu’s fingers drag down your skin. Undressing in this gown isn’t easy but his hands on you is worth it.

By the time you’re left in the slip you wore under the dress, you’re desperate to feel his kisses again. He smiles at you, standing by the bed and looking you up and down. Your cheeks heat and you want to cover yourself, but remember the first night you met him he saw every part of you anyway.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling you down to the edge of the bed. He kneels in front of the bed, licking his lips once before kissing your inner thigh. You gasp at the sensation, chills running up your spine and curling your toes. You sit up on your elbows, watching him kiss up your right thigh, pushing the slip up over your waist.

He looks at you as if he’s looking for permission and you nod.

The first touch of his tongue on your cunt is overwhelming. His tongue continues to move on you, his hands gripping your thighs while he laps at you. You moan, unable to keep any form of composure. Your fingers dig into the sheets as his tongue teases your clit. You fall back, unable to watch any longer, wanting to focus solely on the feeling.

He stops for a moment and your eyes flutter open, seeing him suck on his own middle finger. He grins as he sees you watching him. He slowly teases your entrance with the finger, leaning back down to suck on your clit. You close your eyes again, whimpering and bucking your hips. As his finger presses into you, you still, take in the sensation. Your mouth falls open and you breathe out.

“Shh,” Atsumu hushes you as you begin to whimper. “It’ll start feeling good and not foreign, I swear.”

He slowly pumps his finger out of you and back in, curling it inside you as he goes. He was so right, oh so right. You moan, the feeling sending shockwaves through you. When you open your eyes, Atsumu is hovering over you, his finger still pumping inside you.

“See,” he grins, “feels good, right?”

You nod between moans and reach for Atsumu above you. He leans down, kissing your lips and teasing you with his tongue. He tastes like you, his lips coated with your arousal.

“Do you want more?” He asks and you nod. “When will you learn to use your words?”

“More, please,” you whine, looking up expecting to see his brown eyes but they’ve been replaced with the glowing gold you’ve only seen when he’s been hungry.

Your stomach flips and the fear you feel is nothing compared to the pleasure of his second finger pumping into you with the first. He stretches you, his fingers working in tandem to bring you feelings you can’t explain, leaving you breathless. Something in your stomach snaps and you feel yourself coming to an end, ready to let go.

“Cum for me,” he whispers against your ear, his breath tickling you.

As you climax, you grip onto Atsumu, holding his hand on your right and his arm on your left. It’s unlike any pleasure release you’ve ever had. What you used to do desperately at night at home with your fingers is nothing compared to this. He chuckles as you come down, looking at him with glossy eyes. He kisses your forehead, praising you with quiet words and pulling his fingers out of you.

“Lay back,” you demand, sitting up and pushing against his pillows.

He looks pleasantly surprised, your abruptness is not something he was expecting. He lays down against the pillows, spreading his arms and parting his legs enough for you to crawl between them. You smile at him before pushing them back together and sitting on his lap, your cunt sensitive against his trousers.

His arms wrap around you and you kiss him, holding his face between your hands. “I want to learn to please you too,” you tell him.

He smiles, biting his bottom lip before speaking. “What do you think you should do?”

You take in a shaky breath, remembering some erotic scenes from some books stashed in the back of his library that you snuck into your room. “I think I know,” you admit, “but I want you to tell me what you need.”

“You. You’re all I need.”

The feeling pangs at your heart but you refuse to give in to it and name it.

You kiss him feverishly before unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his neck, and working your way down his body. He was right, he’s covered in these white splotches. They scar most of his skin, all the way down to his waist. Settling between his legs, you unbutton the three buttons on his pants, noticing the tenting as you go.

He holds his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches you, his chest noticeably moving as he breathes. He lifts his hips and you shimmy the pants down over his waist and off his legs, tossing them on the floor to your right. His underwear is tight, the bulge prominent now.

“Why do you look so nervous?” He teases, so you stick your tongue out at him. “I bet that would feel nice on my cock,” he tells you, leaning forward and grabbing your face. “Don’t you want a taste?”

You nod, kissing him again before pushing his chest back so he lays back against the pillows once more. He tenses as you feel his cock through his underwear. He closes his eyes and titls his head back, enjoying your touch.

Reaching up with your other hand, pulling at the waistband and pulling them down over his hips. Reading about something for the first time is nothing like seeing it for the first time. Everything about Atsumu is infuriatingly beautiful, and his cock is no exception. You take it in your hand and timidly stroke it once.

“Fuck,” Atsumu moans, his eyes still closed and head tilted back.

You smile at his response and lean down, taking the head of his cock in your mouth. He moans louder as your tongue swirls around the tip.

“Just like that,” he whimpers. “Use your hand like this,” he opens his eyes and places his hand over yours; showing you what to do.

Your hand gets wet from your spit dribbling down from where your lips meet his cock, making it easier to stroke him. He lets go of your hand and you’re able to learn on your own now. Every sound Atsumu makes encourages you further. Soon enough you’re able to take more than half his length in your mouth without worrying you’re going to hurt him by doing something wrong.

He thrusts up into your mouth, forcing you to take him all in and you choke, pulling away and coughing.

“I’m so sorry, I just lost control,” he sits up cupping your cheeks.

He kisses your lips, pulling away and a trail of drool follows, still connecting your lips. You grin and break it with your finger.

“You don’t have to be sorry, I’m okay. You can’t break me.”

He chuckles, “If only that were true, darling.”

You giggle, kissing him again and climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. He grabs your hips, pulling you further up his body, pushing your hips down so your cunt grinds against his cock. You whimper against his lips, feeling his length against you. The tip of his cock prods at your entrance and you break away from the kiss.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks looking up at you.

“No, God no.” You shake your head. “I-” you stutter, stopping yourself.

He sits up closer to you, your bodies flush with each other. “You can tell me,” he says.

“I want you.”

His eyes flash with something you can’t read, disappointment maybe? No, it couldn’t be that, could it? You’re saying exactly what he wants to hear even if it's not what you thought originally. He couldn’t know that, though.

“It’s going to hurt at first,” he warns you and you nod. “Go at your own pace,” he kisses your cheek, laying back and letting you take control.

You sink down on him about an inch, letting yourself get used to the stretch. His cock feels so much bigger in your cunt than when it was in your mouth. You bite down hard on your lip, holding in the sounds of discomfort as you sink further down on him.

“Don’t do that you’ll bleed,” Atsumu’s thumb pulls your lip from your teeth.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper and sink as far down as you can, sitting in Atsumu’s lap and taking him in entirely.

“Don’t ever,” he rasps, “apologize while taking my cock in you like that.”

His hands move to your hips, his fingers digging into your ass. You use your knees to rise up again, feeling his cock drag against the walls inside of you. It doesn’t feel as good as his fingers, the pain overwhelming you.

“It’s okay,” he hushes your cries. “Go at your pace.”

You try again, sinking down, rising up, and sinking down again. You’re used to the feeling now and even begin to feel good as his cock reaches further inside of you than his fingers. You let out a moan the fifth time you came down on him, finally feeling what you felt before.

“There you go,” he encourages you, using his hands to help you ride him.

He pulls you down by your face, kissing you and beginning to thrust up into you slowly. Your thighs shake but you hold onto Atsumu’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. That familiar feeling from before creeps up on you, and you whimper, clenching around him.

He flips you onto your back, pulling out of you and smiling at you wildly. “You can’t cum yet.”

You nod, sitting up and kissing him and pulling him down with you, desperate to have him in you again. He pulls away and grins.

“Are you greedy already? I told you I wanted to show you many things.” He teases, his fingers playing with your clit.

You gasp, “We have other nights for that. I need you now.”

He laughs, moving closer to you and spreading your legs wider. He pushes into you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. The sounds that leave your mouth ring in your ears, but you try focusing on Atsumu’s cues. His eyes focus on you when you open yours, and that feeling in your stomach builds back up.

“Tsumu,” you whine, slurring his name.

“That’s music to my ears,” he moans. “Need to cum darling?”

You nod. “Wanna cum.”

“Cum with me,” he whispers against your lips and you do.

It feels like waves across your body, the first strong and fierce. The second ringing through your body and lingering as Atsumu cums inside of you. You hold onto Atsumu as if he’s your lifeline, both of you breathing hard and heavy.

He kisses your forehead before rolling to the side of the bed and pulling you close to him. You cuddle up to him, taking in the last hour. He stares up at the ceiling, his breath evening out sooner than yours. You tilt your head up looking closer at his expression.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask.

“Honestly?”

“We promised to be truthful.”

He smiles. “I’m thinking about how many more rounds I could take you before you’re too sore for more.”

You smack his chest and sit up. “I think we’ve reached that limit.”

He grins, sitting up on his elbows. “I guarantee you’ll be begging me for more before you even finish your dinner tonight.”

“You’re awfully full of yourself,” you giggle, pulling your knees to your chest.

“You’re also full of me,” he grins, kissing your temple and getting off the bed. “Come, bathe with me. Then I’ll make you dinner.”

“You’ll make me dinner?”

“I can read a recipe book and figure it out. Besides, there’s probably something edible in case I ruin everything.”

You laugh, taking his hand and following him to the bathroom.

The bath is always relaxing, but a bath with Atsumu is anything but. He’s constantly dumping water on you and splashing you like a child. The few moments when he relaxes and lets you lay against his chest, you relish.

At some point, you fall asleep in the tub against Atsumu. You awake in his bed, under the cover of his thick duvet. Atsumu is nowhere to be found, so you find a shirt of his from a drawer and slip it on. Walking down the hall, you see a faint light coming from the wing where the kitchen is.

“-----,” your name on his lips sends chills down your spine. “I think I’ve made you a sandwich.”

He presents in front of you something that does resemble a sandwich, but the ingredients are questionable. You still take a bite and swallow it. It isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever had. Your father hired a terrible cook for a few weeks before you insisted on getting a new one after a bout of food poisoning.

“How is it?”

“Honestly?”

He nods.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had,” you laugh, putting the half down on the plate. “We should stick to what your staff prepares.”

He looks defeated but grins anyway. “You should go back to bed. I’ll have a big breakfast sent to our room in the morning.”

“Our room?” You smile, biting your bottom lip.

He nods. “I’ll join you after I clean up. I’ll take tonight off.”

You smile at him before heading back towards his room. Most nights he spends them hunting down other vampires who’ve committed crimes. His determination and commitment to his task are unlike most of the men you’ve known.

Atsumu’s room is warm from the fire, but the flames are starting to die down. You throw a log on the fire and crawl back into bed. Atsumu keeps his promise, coming to lay in bed with you soon after. You talk about your life with him, telling him everything you’ve been holding onto. He offers nothing but a listening ear, just what you like.

–

The weeks that follow are much the same as the ones before, except your nights are full of more and more learning. Atsumu pleases you in ways you’ve never imagined possible with his fingers, tongue, and cock. However, you begin to become concerned with how often his eyes seem to turn golden with hunger.

“Tsumu?” You chime one night after a long session with him between your legs.

“Hmm?” He hums.

“When was the last time you fed?” You ask, sitting up on the bed and playing with his hair from where he lays in your lap.

“It’s been a while.” He answers, looking up at you, his eyes now golden once again. “I probably should tonight.”

“Who do you feed from?” The jealousy is in your voice.

“There are some people who volunteer for the pleasure of it. I think I told you this before. In London, there’s a home where my kind likes to go when we’re hungry.” Atsumu’s honesty doesn’t do anything to curb your feelings.

“I don’t want you to go there,” you tell him, keeping up with the honesty you swore to keep. “Use me,” you offer.

“-----, are you sure?” He asks, and you nod.

You pull your hair from your neck, revealing the supple skin.

Atsumu laughs, “I could kill you feeding from there.”

Your face heats in embarrassment. “Where do you feed from?”

He sits up, taking your arm and pointing to your wrist. “Lay back, it will hurt at first.”

You lay back, looking up at the ceiling and then at Atsumu. He smiles at you as he hovers over your body. His lips press against yours and he mumbles some reassuring words. He slowly brings your wrist up to his mouth, and you see the flash of his fangs before they seep into your skin.

Crying out, you instinctively pull away but Atsumu keeps your arm still. The pain turns to an unimaginable wave of pleasure, not unlike the way he makes you cum every night. You moan, actually moan after a minute of it. The burning is intense, but not unmanageable. After another minute, he pulls away from your wrist, blood dripping from his lips.

When you look in his eyes, something has changed, and not just the color of them. He moves off of you, walking quickly to the bathroom. You sit up, checking your wrist and admiring the two small red puncture wounds. He tosses you a bandage from the bathroom entryway.

Something is wrong.

“Atsumu?” You lay the bandage down and get off the bed, your head spinning as you do.

“Please, lay back down.” He moves to catch you, but you fall back onto the bed.

“What’s wrong?” He shakes his head at your voice.

“I have something I have to do.” He rushes out of the room and you don’t see him for the rest of the night.

Sleep doesn’t come. You stay up all night, worried that you did something to change his feelings for you. Did you taste bad?

Can blood taste bad?

You pace for a while in front of his windows, waiting for dawn to come. As the first spots of daylight begin to show you see Atsumu enter the castle. You rush down the hall and down the steps.

When he sees you, there’s not a glimpse of joy on his face.

“Ats-”

“I think you should go back to your father.” He interrupts you and you feel like the castle is crumbling in on you.

“But… Atsumu… why?”

“I think it's for the best. I’ve called for a carriage. You leave in an hour.” He rushes up the stairs and towards the library.

The sound of the doors slamming shut echoes through the castle as you fall to your knees. You’re not sure how long you lie there, perhaps for the full hour. You can’t even cry it hurts so bad. He’s betrayed the honesty you promised to one another.

“Madam, the carriage is waiting for you,” Arthur, Atsumu’s butler, taps on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I must ask that you go.”

You nod, pulling yourself together and walking to the carriage. You’re numb the whole ride home. It takes about an hour for you to arrive at the doorstep of your father’s estate. When you step off the carriage, your father isn’t there to greet you, but instead it’s Graham.

You step back, nearly tripping over the carriage steps.

“Where on earth have you been?” The sound of his voice makes you want to vomit.

“Where is my father?” You ask, stepping towards him, but keeping more than enough distance between him.

“He’s in London, searching for you. I’ve been maintaining the family home while you’ve been what? Whoring yourself to stay afloat?” Graham laughs, watching as the carriage leaves before he insults you.

“Graham, I swear to God if that whore of yours is in my home, I will have you castrated.” You remember the mistress he keeps in London. If he’s been here, she probably has too.

“I’m not stupid enough to bring her here with all the attention you’ve brought us. Do you know what you’ve done? What you’ve caused?” His words ring with hatred. “We told half the town you had a breakdown just to keep your name from being ruined! We tried to defend you!”

“Why are you even here? I thought it would be clear I didn’t want to marry you by running away!” You yell, frustrated with the way your life has gone in the last four months.

“You trifling whore, how dare you raise your voice with me,” he steps closer to you, his anger reaching its peak. “After all the trouble you’ve caused, you’re not going to treat me this way. You’re lucky I decided to stay engaged to you and that you still have a future.”

“I’m never going to marry you, Graham. Never.” You walk past him and into your father’s home, slamming and locking the door behind you.

The staff in the house scurry around, looking at you as if they’ve seen a ghost. Perhaps some of them thought you had run off and died. None of them stop you from going to your old room, and none of them stop you from tearing everything off the walls. You scream, throw things, and even toss old dresses out the window.

If they want a madwoman, you’ll give it to them.

Several hours later, your father's carriage pulls up. You watch him run into the house and hear his clumsy footsteps leading to your room. He bursts in the door, calling your name in a sob. You let him hug you and cry on your shoulder. You let him beg you to never go away again.

Everything feels numb now that you’ve been shown the life you want and can’t have it.

After half an hour, he leaves you to your destroyed room, mentioning he needs to discuss things with Graham. If he even tries to plan another marriage, you’ll run away and never look back; and in the opposite direction of Atsumu’s castle.

When you’re called for dinner, you don’t bother dressing. You go in your worn dress from the night before, your wrist still bandaged from Atsumu’s fangs. The dining room is too warm from the fire and the warm spring day. Your father sits at the head of the table and Graham beside him, both of them engaged in the conversation they’re having.

As you sit, your father comments on your appearance and you glare at him.

“Sweetie, he’s just concerned,” Graham’s facade makes you want to rip his hair out.

“We think it would be good to spend the spring and summer in London. A change of scenery for you, and perhaps you can make time to plan a new ceremony for the fall. They have great doctors in London, as well.” Your father’s optimism is something you’ve always loved, but in your mental state now, you just want him to shut up and give up on you.

“I’m not planning another wedding.” You tell him. “I would like to go to London though.”

“Then we will go in a week! I’ll have new dresses sent to our house there, you won’t need to bring anything but yourself.” Graham tells you and your father as the staff sets your food in front of you.

The thought of putting anything in your stomach makes you want to vomit. You sit there through dinner, listening but not adding to the conversation. Graham seems to have your father wrapped tighter around his finger than before, and you don’t blame him. You left, after all. Once dessert is served, you dismiss yourself and head to your room.

Sinking into the covers, you finally allow yourself to cry.

–

London in the spring is something you used to love. Your mother always dragged you and your father from your country home to the city for the peak season, going to shops, cafes, and all the music halls she could find. After she left, you quit going altogether.

Stepping into Graham’s house feels surreal. All week, you argued with him whenever your father was gone, listening to his empty threats. You threatened to have his food poisoned at one point, but he just laughed. At some point, you stopped talking to him altogether.

“Your room is on the third floor, the second on the right,” Graham tells you, dropping bags down in the foyer.

“Thanks,” you mutter, walking up the steps and not looking back to him or your father.

You hear mutters of worry about your sanity, concerns about where you’ve been all winter, and more things you can’t care to remember. The staircase is steep, but you take your time. By the time you’re in your room, you feel like he picked this room just to exhaust you. He must have noticed you haven’t been eating most nights.

There is a nice view of the city from your room, at least.

It’s past noon now, and there’s discussion about going out to dinner tonight to change things up, but you know you’ll fight tooth and nail before having to be reintroduced into society. Your father begs you to dress, telling you he’ll do anything to make you happy.

To get him to shut up, you agree.

Dressing with the assistance of one of Graham’s maids, you find yourself in a pale blue dress, the color awfully similar to the trim of your wedding dress. Perhaps he likes this color. Perhaps you’ll ruin it for him. When you make it to the foyer, your father is still not there, leaving you uncomfortably silent with Graham standing by the door.

“You look decent for once,” he comments and you turn your head. “This could be easy, you know. A business transaction for us both.”

“I’d rather die than marry you.” You finally look at him, really look at him for who he is.

“That it seems.” He sighs. He steps towards you, his hand reaching out and moving a loose strand of hair away from your face.

His hand is warm on your skin and it makes you cringe. He steps back, looking at you from the head down. He almost looks like he’s working on a puzzle, trying to figure out what piece of you to place next.

“I can be kind. We could have a satisfying life, you and I both. I swear to be faithful to you until we have a few children if you do the same. You can spend money as you please. We can even live separately if you wish.” Graham really wants your father's money if he’s offering this.

Before you can answer him, your father joins you in the foyer. “I hope this restaurant you’ve chosen is a good one, boy.” He claps Graham on the back of the shoulder and laughs.

“Oh, you know I always pick good ones. Why else would I want to be with your daughter.”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

They both ignore you.

The walk to the restaurant is not unpleasant, the umbrella you carry covers your face from strangers who may be looking at you. Once you arrive, they seat you outside. You fold up the umbrella, leaning it against your chair, and sitting down. Graham and your father continue talking about the horse race they’ve seemed to bet on for the upcoming weekend, but you watch the people walking by.

Your mind begins to wander to Atsumu and your heart hurts. You never were able to be completely honest with him either. You kept what you felt to yourself.

However, he completely shut you out without giving any explanation. He broke the trust first. He never asked you how you felt and if he had, you may have told him.

“Would you like that, sweetie?” Graham asks and you furrow your brows.

“What?” You ask. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Your father suggested I show you the block after dinner. He’s planning on joining the gentlemen at the next table at the club tonight after dinner.” Graham tells you.

“I suppose I’ll walk with you,” as if you have a choice now.

Dinner is served not long after, and you manage to down a few vegetables and a bite of your chicken. Graham and your father have both given up on commenting on your eating habits, which you’re grateful for. It’s made it easier to manage. Once it’s over, you regret taking the few bites that you did. You have to stomach Graham for the next hour before you make it home.

At least the days are longer now, so if he tries anything, there will most likely be a witness.

He takes your hand and places it on his arm, portraying the scene most Londoners expect. A couple in the spring, out for a stroll. He talks about the town, telling you about his favorite restaurants and music halls. He tells you he wants to take you to a play when you notice a name that you recall.

“What is this place?” You stop in front of Lestar Manor. The sign is large and imposing with the name of the vampires who were blessed by the sun.

“It’s almost like a joke,” he says. “The manor was abandoned and people swear it’s haunted now. I’ve never learned much more about it.”

“I want to go look inside.”

“Are you serious?” He frowns. “You refuse to do activities for a week, but want to explore a haunted mansion.”

“So what? Let me explore it!”

“We’re going home!” He says sternly, grabbing your arm.

“Let go of me,” you hiss, pulling away.

“For the love of all that is holy, stop acting this way and just do what’s good for you for once in your stupid life.” Graham raises his voice and you push him away from you.

“If you touch me again, I’m going to scream.” You warn him.

As you look around there is no one around, but you’re sure someone will hear you. Graham’s eyes go dark, his grin gone and his face contoured in anger. He steps towards you and you step back, but he’s faster than you.

His grip on your arm hurts, so you begin to yell out. His hand clamps around your mouth and your eyes go wide.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid whore,” he hisses.

“Let go of her,” a figure yells from the Lestar Manor.

The voice makes your stomach drop and you try to pull away from Graham. As you turn your face, you see Atsumu standing in the shade of the Manor, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Who are you to tell me what to do with my woman?” Graham spits back, letting go of your face.

“Atsumu, go away.” You breathe out, your eyes welling up.

He has no business butting into your life after sending you away to this fate.

“Graham,” Atsumu hisses, stepping too close to the edge of the shade for your liking.

“Graham, let’s go. Please,” you beg him, tugging him away from Atsumu.

He smacks your hand away, missing your hand and hitting your cheek. You fall down on the sidewalk, catching yourself with your hands and scraping them.

“Bastard!” Atsumu yells and before you know it, he’s launched himself at Graham, his skin vulnerable to the sun.

“Atsumu! No!” You scream, watching as he punches Graham in the jaw.

You expect his skin to start burning, or for him to catch on fire, or turn to dust. All your reading on vampires, none of it gave a solid answer to what happens when they go in the sun. Almost as if it was taboo to mention it anywhere.

Nothing happens, in fact, Atsumu stands up over Graham’s body and looks at you with a smile. For whatever reason, he’s not dying in the sun. Did he discover something in the week that you were gone? Is that why he was in the Lestar Manor? Or is that the feeding house he mentioned before?

Either way, you don’t want to hear from him.

He broke your heart.

You turn to run away from him and from Graham. As you take your first step, Atsumu catches your arm, and you turn to push him away. He pulls you into his arms instead, holding you against your body.

“Atsumu, let go of me,” you sob, not pulling away but instead going limp in his arms.

He picks you up, carrying you into the Manor and holding you against his chest as you sob. You hate him. You love him. You want him dead. You want him to give you the life you’ve always wanted.

He doesn’t compel you to calm down, he just holds you as you cry. It takes a good ten minutes for you to gather yourself in his arms before you’re able to look up at him. His eyes aren’t glowing, instead, they’re the warm brown you love so much.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

“We told each other we would be honest with one another.” He shakes his head.

“Atsumu,” you whine, “I love you more than life itself.”

“I love you, —--,” he tells you. “You saved my life.”

“What?” You frown. “You just saved me from that horrid Graham.”

“Your blood…” he replies and you begin connecting the dots.

“Lesair, Lestar… You don’t think that my family is?”

He shrugs, “We need to find out the history of your family line before I can draw any conclusions... But since the night I drank from you, I’ve been able to walk in the sun. I was going to come find you and beg you to forgive me, but I needed to stop here first to collect some more books. That’s when I heard your voice and I saw him-”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m just happy to be with you again.” You interrupt him.

“I promise, I’m never letting you go now.” He tells you before kissing your lips.

#atsumu miya smut #atsumu smut #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu smut #miya atsumu x reader #tw monsterfucking #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #hq x reader #tw religious themes

245 notes · View notes