#If every person a vampire bites becomes a vampire

[satancopilotsmytardis]

A Pet’s Place

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by @moonlightcrazyphoenix. Dabi intended to burn when he killed his father. No, he did not think he would be a vampire when it happened, but he didn't care. He had his revenge and he thought that was it. But AFO had other plans for him and for Japan as he used his quirk-strengthened vampires to slaughter countless humans with powerful quirks of their own, turning the survivors into feeding fodder for farms, and enslaving werewolves to be pets and guard dogs for his vampires during the day. It's a system that is far worse than the horrors heroes had created, but no matter how much he wants out, Dabi is trapped in it as AFO uses his instincts and leverage he didn't know would even hurt him, to keep Dabi obedient. Tomura, on the other hand, had been trained, raised to become All For One's successor. He was supposed to be the person who destroyed the heroes and destroyed the society that made them. He had only been sixteen when the war started. He hadn't given it much thought past that. But when he turned into a werewolf instead of a vampire and All For One discarded him, allowing him to be bought and sold like any other slave, his goals changed to surviving for as long as he could, that way he would be the one to destroy this world his betrayer had built. It's chance that brings them together, but pain and choice that makes them persist. 

Contents: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Rape/Non-Con, Dub-Con, and Consensual Sex, Paranormal AU, Canon Divergent AU, Vampire!Dabi, Werewolf!Tomura, Dark Themes such as Slavery/Trafficking/Genocide/Torture/Cannibalism/Dehumanization are discussed, Distressed Mental Health including Panic Attacks/Co-Dependency/Suicidal Thoughts and Ideation, Unhealthy ideas about Sexual Assault and Sexual Desire, Death of Minor Characters, Collars/Leashes, Rimming, Blood Drinking, Blood Drinking from Genitals, Masturbation, Master/Pet, Dom/Sub, Pet Play (Puppy Play), Bathing/Washing, Aftercare, Dacryphilia, Scent Kink, Size Kink, Breeding Kink, Knotting, Mating Cycle/Rut, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Degradation, Humiliation, Praise Kink, Anal Sex, Spit as Lube, Cum as Lube, Loss of Virginity, Biting, Cock Cage, Humping, Deepthroating, Facefucking, Premature Ejaculation, Sadism, Masochism, Anal Fingering, Cumming In Pants, Dry Orgasm, Cum Swallowing

Word Count: 50,134

Sometimes Tomura wonders what the shape of the world would have been if humans had won the war. He was only four when the supernatural creatures of this world decided to step forward, afraid that the prey that they had been holding onto for so long were growing too powerful with the new quirks that were starting to become more and more prevalent in the world. He was not given a chance to see that world. Because when his quirk awakened, it was a vampire, one who had a powerful quirk of his own, who took him in afterwards. He was human for a while, but his teacher had the doctor experimenting on him, trying to find a way to synthesize human quirks with the gifts of the supernatural, and  after another few years, Tomura's puberty ripped through him and left him a werewolf, but the first of which that had been able to hold onto his quirk in human and lycan forms. And the vampires were the ones winning the war. He knows that it was his teacher's doing. His quirk and preternatural abilities somehow already naturally synthesized in his veins and allowed him to turn more soldiers and keep them using their quirks— even if that burned most of those experiments out more easily than they liked. It was a genocide, and in the end, all that was left were the humans who had no quirks and every other preternatural race that lived underneath the rule of the vampires. His teacher became the most powerful being on the planet, and after suffering the final blow of his long-standing enemy, All Might, before the hero had been defeated, it became imperative to All For One to have a successor who could take up his mantle when he died. 

And a werewolf was no longer someone that he could rely on. 

Tomura doesn't struggle against the heavy chains that bind his wrists together, a metal collar around his neck that connects to them before it flows down to his waist and then down to his ankles. The muzzle over his face has a bit that has been forced into his mouth and keeps him silent as he is brought along the back halls of another extravagant building. This is the third time he has been sold in as many years. He is always being traded around because while he is strong and useful, he is dangerous, and the fact that he'd killed the first owner, and maimed the second, means that the third had been so paranoid about what he might do, that he had just not been able to stand having him around for long. 

Tomura knows he's pushing his luck, knows that his teacher is still around, is probably the only reason that he has survived for as long as he has when 'bad dogs' get put down all the time. But he won't just lay down and accept himself being turned into nothing. He won't let them strip away his will and mind until all that's left are his animal instincts and the desperate desire to find a pack, so strong that it makes him accept his slaver as that. No. He will fight every time someone is stupid enough to give him an opportunity to do so and he won't stop until he runs out of ways to do that. 

This is not as formal of an event as the others that he's been brought to before. There is definitely some kind of big auction being set up well out of his sight, but that is not what he is being brought to. Instead he finds himself being taken to a holding room where a couple of other 'low stock' creatures are being sold. An old man, human from his scent and heartbeat, who looks like a stiff breeze might snap him in half, but a human with a beating heart all the same. Farming humans is difficult, especially since quirks keep slipping through the cracks and having to be culled young. So even an old man who can probably only give a few sips of blood a week is a luxury for the vampire elite. There are a few other wolves here, ones who are not pretty to look at anymore which probably means that they misbehaved so badly or were owned by slavers so cruel that they simply delighted in finding how hard they could push before even their superhuman healing couldn't stand up to it anymore. 

There are ten vampires in the room, and most of them don't interest him. It doesn't matter if any of them choose to buy or if he's taken back to the small cell that he's been in, all that matters is that if they do give him an inch, he will make it hurt. But the vampire with black hair, piercing blue eyes, and swaths of warped purple scars and gleaming staples across his face and spreading down his neck before the suit he wears stops any further assessment, does catch his eye. He doesn't let his ears perk up, doesn't let his tail swish, as he recognizes this vampire. He hasn't aged a day since the final battle, but Tomura wouldn't have expected him to. His hair was white when he was on the battlefield, his quirk blazing the same blue all around him as he fought Endeavor, his father, in the blinding sunlight, making it unclear if it was the light or his quirk that was burning through his skin so completely. And he had won. One of his teacher's experiments that had performed exactly as he'd wanted, taking out the second biggest threat on the side of heroes and making sure that he was dead so that when night came and the rest of the armies swarmed the final bastions of hope, they didn't have anyone left to protect them. He had a feeling that he was too much of an icon of the war to be quietly dispatched like so many of his teacher's other experiments, but he didn't know that he would actually ride that status to the wealth that other vampires have amassed throughout the centuries. 

"What's wrong with this one?" He asks, his voice rough like he smokes, though the only scent that he can pick up on smells more like a campfire than nicotine.

"This wolf is very willful. He's been sent to three different masters and none of them have been able to break him. He killed the first." The seller says, but quickly continues, "Those owners were not able to find a way to appropriately utilize his immense strength and cunning." 

"Who wants a cunning dog?" One of the other vampires sneers as they go to look at some of the other stock. 

The blue-eyed firestarter moves a bit closer to him and despite the blow he knows is going to come, Tomura doesn't lower his head in deference as he comes closer. He holds his gaze as he approaches until the cattle prod presses into the small of his back and the electricity rips across his nerves, so sharp and agonizing that his teeth clench harder on the metal bit in his mouth and he feels a tooth crack as it happens. He can't help slumping in on himself when it stops, his body sagging weakly as it does, his tooth taking another few seconds to start healing when the current has finally finished having its way with his body. 

"How much?" 

"A hundred-thousand yen." Cheap. For a wolf like him? An alpha in his prime who has a quirk, even if the collar around his neck makes it so he can't ever use it? He should be going for a million. But his teacher wanted him buried, he just also was too proud to want him dead. 

"Done. Have him prepared for transport. What's his quirk?" 

"He can decay anything he touches with five fingers." 

"Keep the collar and chains on then." 

"Of course, Mr. Todoroki—-" 

Tomura tenses when there is the whoosh of hot air against his side as the vampire is suddenly right in front of the salesperson, his teeth bared and his eyes glowing blue. 

"Dabi." He snarls with sparks arching off of his tongue. 

The other man blanches and immediately rushes to correct himself, but Dabi doesn't seem to care much, instead pulling out his phone so that he can get the payment in order. The handler sees the wire transfer go through and then Tomura is being tugged away, taken down the hall again to go back to the reinforced vans that he has taken too many trips in.  

///

It's another long drive. Long enough that Tomura just lets himself sleep in the confines of his bonds, no windows in the holding area for him to even tell where he's going even if he'd wanted to. He's woken when the back of the van is opened and sunlight spills in, the vampires in charge of transporting him in their sun-proof hazmat suits to keep themselves from bursting into flame. He is pulled from the back and he tests his bonds, but there is no give and he can't even lift his arms enough, can't bend and straighten fast enough to throw his weight on these creatures so that he can tear them apart. So instead he finds himself being walked into a sizable, modern house that sits on the peak of a mountain. The landscape around him has the smell of old ash, the plant growth here sparse enough that Tomura can see for kilometers all around. The high ground with good visibility all around and miles away from the city with only one dirt road that leads up here. It's the perfect place for someone who can rain down destruction from such a distance as the firestarter. He is brought towards the house, but the guards pause slightly. Normally he is led in through the back, or taken by some household staff, but the only person who greets them is Dabi as he is let out of his own car by his driver. He pulls on a large flat topped black sunhat, using that to protect him from the light, but not enough that his skin doesn't begin to smoke slightly as he gestures for them to follow and he brings him up to the front door. 

He does not invite the other men inside, instead reaching for the leash that is attached around his neck for himself. 

"Would you like us to help you get him—" 

"No. Go away." Dabi snaps. He already has what he needs from them, and he stays at the door, watching as they go back to their vehicles, the smell of smoke around him growing more pungent as he stays where he is, allowing himself to burn again as he waits for them to be alone on the mountain top before he opens the door and pulls Tomura inside. 

He brings him through an open-floor plan on the first level, a kitchen off to the left, behind that a dining room, towards the center a staircase that leads further up alongside a hallway that disappears towards the back of the house, to the right of the entrance a living room with a sunken floor seating area. This might as well be considered a glass house for how many windows are everywhere. Floor to ceiling on most of the outer walls with tinted shades that block the harmful light from attacking Dabi even inside. Tomura isn't sure what to make of that. Most vampires want as little natural light as possible, and before he can fully take in what's around him, he pulls on his chains, and Dabi walks straight towards the staircase. He brings him up those stairs and Tomura is even more confused to find that there is a door at the top of the staircase, this one also with a keypad and lock. Dabi opens the door and there are less windows on this floor, but it also just seems smaller in general. It also... seems like an apartment in it of itself. He doesn't know what to think of that, but he sees another kitchen, another common area, though this upper portion of the house is much less open than the first. 

Dabi tugs him over to a door that has several freshly installed locks on it, if the scent of sawdust is anything to go by, and opens it. It's not a dingy cell like the last place he was made to live, but it is hardly more than a prison cell. The walls are featureless, the lights built flush into the ceiling, no windows, a single vent at the top of the room that is at least putting fresh air inside so that it won't be stifling in here. There are hooks on the walls so that his chains can be attached to them, but they are probably bolted into the very support beams of the house so he won't be able to pull them loose. A toilet and sink are off to one corner of the small room, a showerhead in the wall not far from there with a drain on the small tiled section of the floor. There isn't a bed, but he has been left a futon that is neatly folded up in the corner of the room. For as blank and empty as the room is, the lack of any distinctive features sure to make him go mad, this is a nicer room than some of the others he's been subjected to that didn't give him a place to bathe or relieve himself. 

Dabi pulls him into the room and over to the futon, kicking it open and then ordering, "Sit." 

The fact he has the muzzle on is the only reason he doesn't snarl at the other man if not actually try to go for his throat. As is, his ears pin back and his tail puffs up to show the vampire how little he cares for being treated like an actual dog. 

It shouldn't surprise him, but Dabi shows absolutely no hesitation using his super speed to move, his strength to kick out the back of one of his legs, enough force ripping through his body that the bone shatters and he is giving another grunt as he goes down. Dabi yanks on his leash, directing his descent, and knocking him back so that he lands on the messy futon, his ass hitting the floor roughly and his head clipping the wall. The broken bone hurts less than the cattle prod and as he blinks away the spots in his vision, Dabi is already moving. He unhooks the chains at his ankles, around his waist, wrists, and unclips the chain that attached them to his neck and locks him instead to the wall. Tomura tries to lash out with his claws, but when they get close enough to rake over Dabi's stomach, gutting him the only thing that Tomura wants right now, the vampire doesn't bother with fangs, speed, or strength, his torso instead wreathes itself in flames so hot that the flesh peels away from his fingertips and leaves his head swimming. He has always had a high pain tolerance, but he's barely been given anything to eat or drink in three days, and the rapid healing that his body is having to do as he tries to recover from these blows makes him feel weak and human again. 

He is glad for the muzzle because his pride wouldn't have been able to tolerate it if the whimper that he feels sitting in the back of his throat might have been allowed to escape. Dabi is in his lap he realizes after a second, right before long fingers knot into his hair, yanking his head back. 

Dabi hisses softly, his fangs out as his eyes roam over his neck. Between the quirk collar and the muzzle, there is no flesh exposed for him to bite. So his other hand hooks into the collar of the thin smock that he's been put into and he tears away the fabric. He must be starving, half-feral, or... unsired because he doesn't try to find a better vein or artery, he just dips his head and sinks his teeth into Tomura's chest. His breath catches in the back of his throat, the sensation of having his blood pulled from his veins something that never fails to make him a bit sick to his stomach and feel strangely hollowed out as his body can't heal faster than Dabi can take great, greedy gulps of it as he drinks. 

Tomura hates that he's so weak right now that he doesn't even manage to stay awake before he finishes with his meal. 

///

When he wakes next, it is with his body still crumpled on the messy futon, the lights turning on as soon as he starts to stir. He squints against the sterile white light and doesn't know how he's supposed to stay sane when this is all he's going to have in this room until Dabi is finished with him. Will this be the room he dies in? He tries not to think about that too much, but it's a hard thought to distance himself from when his freshly healed hands, leg, and chest are all still throbbing dully with pain, the lack of food that he's been given making it so hard for him to recover the way that he should. He knows it won't do him any good, but he does still try to reach up to his muzzle and find a way of unclasping it. If he can just get this off, then at least he'll be able to drink some water from the tap. He can't find a mechanism though, and there's no hope of breaking something that was made to bind his kind, so he ends up testing the length of chain that Dabi left attached to the wall. He tugs as hard as he can and for a split second he thinks that it might give way, a little tiny movement, a soft click of it—

And then an alarm buzzes loudly and all of the sudden the vent above head sends a glittering dust and faint haze of purple smoke into the room. There's a split second that he has to be worried, and then the smell of wolfsbane hits his nose and the powdered silver starts to mist over his body, leaving him screaming around his gag again as it burns into his skin and the air around him turns into fire that scorches his lungs on every inhalation. Tomura starts to choke and gag, his vision blurring as the particles in the air burn his eyes and leave blood mixing with the tears that try to wash them away. 

He can't get enough breath, can't think straight as his throat feels like it's starting to foam with the blood that is sputtering out of his damaged lungs, and he lets go of the chain and collapses down to the floor, too weak to keep himself upright anymore. His grip goes slack on the chain and there's a soft click as it goes back into place and then another loud buzz fills the air before a heavy churn of a large fan starts somewhere else. The room suddenly becomes a wind tunnel as the fan sucks the poison out of the air, but Tomura's skin, his eyes, his insides, they're all still burning. 

The fan is only on for a second or two before it seems to think the air is clean enough, but Tomura isn't. He forces himself to crawl over to the shower area cranking on the icy water and letting it rain over him as he turns his eyes up to it and lets it wash away the blood and pain. He stays there until his throat and lungs are able to heal themselves enough that he doesn't feel like he's choking on death anymore, and he is left feeling even weaker than he did before as he discovers that he only barely kept himself from being properly poisoned by the wolfsbane by getting to the water as fast as possible. It wouldn't have worked if he'd had a few more lungfuls of the toxin before he got his wits about him and that would have been a slow and painful way to die as his insides turned to sludge. 

Tomura has strength enough to pull off the ruined shift and push himself up to his feet as he leans heavily against the wall. He finds that there is a little dispenser in the wall and after another minute of just letting the water fall over him, he manages to actually lift his hand to it. The soap that comes out is clear and sharply chemical in its 'scent-free' smell. He doesn't have much strength, but being clean, making sure there's no more silver or wolfsbane over his body, and having this small comfort after weeks of being with slavers again, makes him want to take what he can get.

Tomura uses the soap all over, the harshness of it drying out his hair and skin, but taking away the smell of filth, other people, and pain that has been clinging to him. He's shivering by the time he's done, and no towels or anything else are in the room, so he ends up sitting on the floor to air dry so that he doesn't soak his futon. 

He doesn't know how long he's been up before the door clicks open. His ears pin back. He didn't hear Dabi keying in the code, didn't hear the locks disengage before the actual door started to open. Which means that this room is soundproof. Without being able to hear beyond this, without windows, he won't have any hope of being able to track the passage of time in this room. Fuck. He's going to be out of his mind after a few full moons. 

The smell of food hits his nose first as Dabi toes open the door and steps inside, holding a tray with a few plates on it. He kicks it shut behind him and it locks back into place automatically. 

"Not even a full day and you already found the security system? You aren’t very cautious, are you?" 

He brings the tray over to him, setting it off to the side and Tomura is surprised to find that he's brought him a whole bowl of miso soup, some pickled vegetables, a glass of barley tea, and a very large bowl of gyudon, the cuts of beef raw and bloody, the marbling of them so rich that he wouldn't be surprised if this is a cut of wagyu, even if it's not specifically A5. His stomach, against his dignity, growls and Dabi snorts as he stays kneeling in front of him. Tomura considers lunging for him. He's weak, but there is a very small chance that he might be able to tear his head off before he can turn him to ash, or maybe they'll die together. There's no way for him to get out of this room, to be able to eat anything with the muzzle on, to break his quirk collar. But dying locked away in here, starving to death or pulling the chain and letting himself fall to the poison, both of those fates seem equally as unpleasant. He hasn't even been here a day. It took him nineteen months to find the right time to kill his first master. He can bide his time and find a better opportunity to strike than this. 

So he stays still as Dabi reaches for his muzzle and starts to mess with it. It takes about three minutes for him to undo all of the safeties before he finally feels the metal loosen and then he can get the bit out of his mouth as Dabi pulls the entire cage free from around his head. His mouth is so dry and he doesn't bare his teeth and snarl at the other man, which he thinks is a fairly good show of his restraint as he lets himself focus again. He's starving, thirsty, and weak, yes, but if he wants to get out of here, he is going to need to play a different kind of game. 

"...Thank you." He manages after a moment. He isn't sure if his throat is so rough because of the dehydration, poison, or from disuse, but he sounds awful when he speaks. Dabi listens and then gets up from the floor, eyes carefully not leaving his face as he avoids looking at his naked body. 

"I'll come back for the dishes later. Don't pull on the chain." And then he turns to go without waiting for any other word. That's fine. Dabi bought him for a reason, even if that reason is only that he wants a blood bag to supplement the human rations he's probably getting while the population is in such a crisis, that is something, and Tomura can find a way of bending it to his favor. 

It's a bitter thought that comes to him, not for the first time in the past six years, that perhaps this is all some elaborate plan his teacher had to force him to prove himself in the harshest environments that could be given to him. But as he sips at the tea slowly, trying to get his stomach to accept that before he tries to eat any of the food that has been left for him, he knows this isn’t a test. He was discarded, and now he just has to live long enough to make All For One regret it.  

///

The world that he was born into was absolutely fucked. It was a society that worshiped heroes and those with power to the point that his father was able to buy a wife and experiment with eugenics to try and make the perfect child. The fact that under the surface there was also a constant fight that was happening behind the scenes as some vampires wanted to go public and create some kind of 'unity' with humans, while so many more wanted them subjugated and killed, making sure their prey species couldn't grow too strong for them to hunt anymore, was a different level of fucked. But it wasn't a surprising turn given that vampires had already been subjecting werewolves for centuries, keeping them underfoot as their soldiers and guard dogs during the day when they were at their most vulnerable. Their species had already had their wars and vampires won. It was fucked that after nearly dying to his ruined quirk, Dabi had woken up in a hospital with his body all wrong and a new hunger in him, not just for revenge, but for blood, and with centuries of history that he was suddenly forcibly tied to. He was not happy about that, but the creepy fucks in the hospital gave him blood and promised he would be a soldier against the heroes, and that had been enough to keep him from setting the building on fire. And when AFO, the progenitor, apparently, of all vampires in the country, went toe-to-toe with All Might and got his shit rocked, it was no longer them quietly preparing for war. They went in on all of it and they did so fast. 

Dabi flexes his fingers, trying to shake the heat from his palms as he remembers how his father crumbled into ash beneath them. The vampires won, and Dabi was left in another fucked up world that culled the human population down to only those who didn't have quirks, watched as slavery as an institution was brought back, and couldn't just escape to another country to disappear because as far as All For One was concerned, Dabi was a general. A war hero, and his abandoning the country after their victory would reflect poorly to the moderates who were just biding their time to see how this sudden shift in power would play out. Lots of vampires, he's learned, are very moderate. They live such long lives, why should they worry what is happening at this moment when there will be something new in the next?  Things are ephemeral and changing, they are not. Dabi hates most other vampires. This house, his isolation from them, the assurance that no one will come here and disturb what's his, those things are what keep him sane, what keeps him from just walking out into the sun and letting his body turn to ash. 

"Toya?" He still has to lock up his muscles to keep from shivering as he hears that name that he'd given up before the war. But he's the one who came down into their section of the house. Whether he likes it or not, he invited this conversation to him by simply being here. Vampires, he's also learned, are very bad at letting things go. 

"What's up, Natsuo?" He asks as he finds his brother in the living room. The other two aren't around which must mean they're still in their rooms for the time being. He doesn't want them to worry, but he knows that he put all of them on edge when he told them they would have to stay in their rooms for the full day yesterday so he could air out and clean their space, ensuring the wolf wouldn't realize how many humans he has living here. 

"Did everything go okay yesterday?" He asks, but the question isn't moderate or neutral. He couuld smell the heat of his brother's frustration on his skin even if it wasn't leeching into his tone. 

"I got a good bargain. A wolf." He doesn't like it, but this is the world he lives in now and he couldn't keep doing what he had been before. It just wasn't sustainable. 

Natsuo scowls slightly as he turns his attention back to the TV. None of his siblings ask him about being a vampire. He doesn't want them to. But he knows that they're all wondering why their donations haven't been enough for him. He can't tell them the disgusting way that his hunger is linked to... everything else now. That the bags of blood Natsuo has drawn from them so he could feed leave him squirming alone in his room and threaten to make him waste the meals when he has to confront that it's their blood bringing him that feeling. He isn't going to tell them he's been starving himself on only a few sips a week just to try and avoid that feeling because admitting to it happening at all makes him want to kill himself all over again. He doesn't want those instincts and he was going insane from starving himself for so long. He didn't want to risk tearing out their throats and gorging himself on their blood, or making them thralls who would do anything that he wanted them to. He needed to find another way of getting the blood he needs and a willful, dangerous, gorgeous werewolf is preferable on all fronts than continuing to risk his siblings' lives and his sanity by continuing to sip at their blood. Getting the cell set up took a month and a half, but it was more than worth it after his meal the night before. 

Dabi is glad that he has been so starved for so long, because even after that, he doesn't have enough excess blood in his system for heat to rush to his cheeks. He had gotten carried away last night after he left the wolf unconscious in the room, barely able to stumble out of the cell and to his own room before he had been shedding his clothes, heat itching under his skin as he stroked himself, finding one messy orgasm there before he had managed to get onto his bed and start to pump his fingers inside of his body. He had felt so good by then that he hadn't been sure if he would be able to come down, and by the time he had been finished, he'd been tired enough to sleep without nightmares for the first time since the end of the war. He needed that, needs to be able to sate his appetite and instincts if he wants to be able to function properly again, as if he ever has since he woke from his coma. He can't keep starving himself if he doesn't want to lose his sanity in a way so horrific he doesn't think that he would ever recover. 

"What are you doing?" He asks, if only to try to distract himself. He needs to make sure the wolf is well-fed today before he goes back for another meal. He wants to devour him, but he can't just gorge himself until he's dead, not if he plans on keeping him for as long as he needs him. 

"Nothing." And there's a slight bitterness in his brother's tone. Of course there is. He was going to be a doctor. Fuyumi was a teacher. Shoto thought he would be a hero. And now they are here, trapped as much as the wolf in his cell upstairs because this is the only way that he can keep them safe. They had quirks. They wouldn't just end up as some other vampire's playthings, they would be shattered and drained, slaughtered with their bodies burned to ashes so that they can't spread their genes to anyone else. They know that. They don't hate him for keeping them here, but no matter how necessary, imprisonment will never be a happy circumstance for anyone locked into it. 

"Well I've gotta make bigger portions for my new pet— wolves eat like crazy— do you have an idea of what you want for dinner?" 

Natsuo shrugs, but at least he moves away from the couch and over to the island so that he can help him cook if he wants it and watch in the more likely case that he doesn't. 

They all grew up mostly cooking and eating extremely traditional Japanese faire, but he needs to make sure his meal gets as much protein and iron into his system as possible as soon as possible if he wants to be able to drink from him again, so Dabi opts to make steak for dinner when Natsuo makes no protests. Fondant potatoes, perfectly blanched green beans that are fresher and that are only available to him because of his status as a general. He knows that it's much harder to come by good meals nowadays in circles outside of the vampire elite, despite the fact that it is all wolves working in agriculture so that the entire country doesn't collapse completely. 

This world is so shit now, it is a bitter thought that continues to live in the back of his mind no matter how much he wants to shake it off. He thought, when he had fantasized about what the world might be like after the heroes were gone, that there wouldn't be this system of people being used anymore. It's a sad and disgusting reality that the creatures he helped put into power are even worse about that than what came before. 

Dabi makes the food and brings it upstairs, saying goodbye to his siblings for the night and locking the door to his apartment behind him. If the wolf is doing better than he was this morning, his heartbeat weak and the smell of stress and pain clinging to him, then he might eat again later tonight, when he should have woken instead of adapting his schedule to the one that his siblings follow. That's probably bad for him too, but he can take trying to get his vampirism under control one step at a time. Regular meals first, trying to find the line between what he is and what he needs to be for his siblings can come later. 

The wolf has eaten all of his food from earlier and is curled up on the futon, transformed into his large white-furred fully animal form. If nothing else that makes it easier for Dabi to focus on just taking his dishes and leaving the new ones with the instructions, "Eat up," because this time he's not soaking wet and naked, letting him see the long, thick cock that was hanging between his legs. 

He leaves the room again, going back to his own to find something to occupy his time. He never thought he would be so hungry for anything beyond purpose, but now he is starving for blood, ravenous for pleasure however he can find it after a life of none. And he thinks that if he doesn't choose what lines he's willing to cross now, he will fray apart completely. 

///

Tomura is given rich meals for the next few days, but apart from Dabi coming into the room to feed him, he doesn't linger for long. There is nothing to do in the room. He has his futon, his minimal bathroom, and the chain that is just large enough for him to move around the small room. But there is no entertainment of any kind and he feels his mind already starting to ache from the isolation. Tomura's mind was shattered of that wolf instinct to find a pack a long time ago, his teacher having deliberately kept him in isolation then as well because he wanted to make sure that he wouldn't find ties that might distract him. So with nothing to do in the room, he eats his meals slowly and then, as he sees that the portions are consistently what he actually needs rather than the scraps he was being given by his last owner and the slavers, he also begins to exercise again. His body wears down much more slowly than a human's would in this situation, but the physical activity, if nothing else, will help to fill his time. The luxury of having a bathroom that he has 24/7 access to for the moment also means that he won't have to sit around with sweat clinging to his skin either. Even with the constant bright light and the more frustrating lack of windows, this is one of the better places he's been kept in the past six years, and that just means that he will be far stronger than he was at the start when he finds his opportunity to escape this place. 

He is standing under the spray of the shower, his muscles pleasantly sore from his activity, when the door clicks open and Dabi steps inside. The vampire's eyes flick over his body, but quickly dart away, and Tomura is speaking before he takes note of anything else. 

"A towel would be nice." At the moment he has to choose to sit on the cool concrete until he dries or he has to use the smock that is the only fabric he has to dry off, not wanting to get the futon wet. The shower is so cold that he doesn't worry about humidity damaging it, but he also doesn't think that it's warm enough in this room to actually let it dry in a sufficient amount of time if he does get it wet. He has no modesty to speak of anymore. He's been weighed, prodded, raped, and used in so many ways since he was put into this life. All of it gets put into a part of his mind that stays contained until he lets his quirk rip through his body.  He thinks that by the time he can access his quirk again, he'll be able to hold onto the whole world and have it shatter apart beneath his hands. He won't even have to move as he destroys the entire empire that his teacher built around him.

Dabi turns his attention back to him for a second, and then before he says anything, he turns and leaves through the door again. Tomura hates the reaction in himself, but his tail immediately curls between his legs, his ears flattening against his head. There is a not insignificant fear in him that the vampire left entirely because he was anticipating gassing Tomura again. The poison in the vent won't hurt a vampire, but it could overwhelm his senses and make him more vulnerable as Tomura's instincts lash out as he's overtaken by that agony again. 

He waits for the buzz, but it doesn't seem forthcoming, so he finishes washing the soap from his skin and hair. He is lucky that no one wanted to get close enough to him to cut his hair after the last time someone tried and he'd kicked them so hard their entire ribcage had caved in on itself, but the long locks are dry and brittle as the powerful detergent strips them further of any oils. Small things, petty things, those are easier to linger on. Thinking about those things makes the greater horrors that he has suffered easier to turn away from. Those bigger things, those will rend him apart if he lets them. If holding onto the hope of destroying this empire and being able to find creature comforts in the aftermath, if he survives it, will help him continue to believe that there is a future for him afterall and that some vampire, that his teacher, won't decide he's caused too much trouble and finally kill him, then he will keep that tight in both hands. Be petty to hide that he is being observant, prepared, clever. Let them think that whatever he was before was so entitled, that they might be the ones who will rise to the challenge of breaking him, and then let their overconfidence bring them to a point where he can overcome them. It's worked every time before. Someday it will stick. 

The door opens again and Dabi re-enters the room with a fluffy pale gray towel— a set of them actually, including a washcloth and a hand towel. He sets them on the edge of the sink and then leans against the wall, his arms crossed and not looking at him. He hasn't worn a suit again since he brought Tomura here. Instead he's been wearing... house clothes. He is a general, a war hero, this house is a testament to the life of luxury that has been provided to him for that service. But he also sees easily that Dabi is left without much else to do. He turns off the water once the last of the soap and sweat has been wiped from his skin and then he reaches over for the towels. He starts to dry off, scenting the air to try and find something on the vampire that will tell him what he might have been doing on the other side of this door. He isn't sure what it might be, but there would have to be something. 

What he finds instead is that there is the chalky smell that clings to his skin and clothes of powdered scent blockers. He must have applied them just before he came into this room, not letting them absorb properly into his skin first because he shouldn't smell like anything at all if he'd let them soak in properly. Even then, the fact that Dabi has gone out of the way to disguise his activities on the other side of this door only makes him more suspicious. He doesn't know why he would do that, but he has, and that means that he thinks there's something to hide, whether because there actually is, or because the comments about his past exploits have made the vampire weary enough to consider him dangerous. He doesn't know which is better or worse, he just knows that he'll have to look even harder for the slips that he will need to make use of if he wants to get out of here. 

"Thank you." It takes quieting the snarling, howling beast inside of him to lower himself to thanking the other man for anything. But if his teacher did nothing else, he taught him the art of manipulation more keenly than Tomura would have ever bothered to learn on his own. Of course, at the time, his teacher had been expecting him to be in the position of master manipulator, but he knows now the different methods to employ to try and get his captors on his side. It worked with the third, but one out of three are abysmal odds. He'll shoot for making it fifty-fifty now though as he tries to find something to use against Dabi. "My name is Tomura Shigaraki." He says, that name meaning nothing to anyone beyond his teacher and the doctor. Tomura Shigaraki didn't exist before them, and now they're trying to make certain he doesn't exist anymore after them. 

"I don't care." Dabi says. Tomura looks at him again as he finishes drying off and wraps the towel around his waist. He doesn't know what the vampire's deal is yet, but he's clearly tense, the smell of smoke starting to leech out into the room even as the blockers try their best to smother it. 

"Yes, master." He tries instead, forcing his ears to stay high and attentive instead of pinning back and growling as he forces himself smaller for the fang. 

Dabi tenses, that smell of heat going through the room even more strongly as blue eyes finally snap to him again. "Don't call me that!" 

"My apologies. Is there something that you would like me to call you instead?" 

"No! Stop talking to me." And even though his skin stays the same pallor of death beneath his scars, there is no hiding how flustered he is as his eyes quickly look away again. He had been feral and half-crazed the last time that he had fed on him, but this time, Tomura sees the tension through his entire body. He decides to not push that for now and when Dabi orders, "Sit down," he sets aside the damp towel and then sits on the bed, his legs folded under him like a good servant. He remembers training. It was not something that he'd actually taken to six years ago, but the memories of what vampires would expect of stock like him had been reinforced with a cattle prod against his skin. 

After another second, whatever control Dabi had been trying to hold onto so tightly escapes him and he is right in front of him. His hands are cold against his thighs as his eyes glow, his fangs making him slur his speech like he still isn't used to them filling his mouth. "Let me—" it's not actually a request, and Tomura has to put the way that his skin crawls somewhere else far into the back of his mind to keep himself from snarling and making the short-sighted mistake of trying to tear the vampire's head off his shoulders as he uses his considerable strength to push his body back and force his legs wide. He's been disgraced in so many ways, but this one still puts a snarl in the back of his throat. 

So it's a surprise when Dabi's mouth latches onto the inside of his thigh instead of pulling at his own lounge pants and shoving his cock inside of him. The bite rips pain across his nerves, Dabi clearly not having the finesse of other vampires, clearly not knowing how to make it not hurt or just not caring as his fangs sink deep into his femoral artery and he starts to take deep pulls in time with his heartbeat.  It becomes entirely too much nearly as soon as it happens, Tomura going light-headed as Dabi gulps down his blood in needy waves, and he snarls. It's all an animal sound that he can't fight, a bone-deep instinctive fear that tells him that he is going to die right here because he couldn't keep Dabi's teeth away from his skin. 

It doesn't surprise him through that animal fear that he smells Dabi's body starting to heat in a different way than before. The only vampire he's ever known that could separate their hunger from their desire was his teacher, and for a vampire clearly as unhinged and feral as Dabi is, despite the way that he's been elevated by his work in the war, he knows immediately that Dabi can't make that distinction. He wouldn't be surprised if he has to get off every time he eats just to come down from the high of being filled with blood. He drinks so quickly, so deeply, that Tomura's healing can barely keep up, his vision starting to go dark around the edges and a soft yip leaving his throat even though he would have rather bitten off his own tongue than let that sound out if he had been entirely in his right mind. 

Dabi comes up for air for long enough that his skin closes back over the wound, keeping him from spilling any more blood and seeming to allow Dabi to focus again as he blinks. His eyes are half-lidded, his pupils blown so wide that there is only a thin ring of the glowing blue that he can see, a faint blush of his blood in the other's veins starting to show up along his cheeks. He smells so heavily of his arousal, and Tomura sees the half-hard press of his cock against his pants. He expects him to do something about that but instead Dabi half-stumbles, his limbs moving with the coordination of a human too deep in their cups, as he falls back, landing on his ass as he blinks and seems to try and clear his head through the meal he just stole from Tomura's veins. 

He's shaking. That is something that comes to Tomura a little distantly. But his head is clearing, the pain in his leg ebbing as the rich meals he's been given for the past few days allow him to regenerate what he's lost more easily than he had the first time. He's not in danger of passing out this time, his mind getting more focused as Dabi seems to be barely holding it together as he bites his lower lip, the breaths he doesn't really need sounding rough as he tries to focus. Tomura needs any advantage he can press.

Dabi, for whatever reason, was abandoned by his sire, he's certain of that now. No one taught him to be a vampire when he was first turned and who would dare to try and correct him now? No. He's been left to deal with this on his own and that means that he will be easy to get into a position that Tomura can use to his benefit. He just has to convince him to let his guard down. 

He has always had to be tortured and beaten into lowering himself for his owner's use, but he feels more in control now than he has in years as he crawls on his hands and knees to between Dabi's legs with a soft whine in the back of his throat. It has been so easy for him to ignore the way that vampire venom heats the blood as it flows through his veins because he was always so disgusted by it. But he lets himself acknowledge it now so that the faint, far weaker scent of his own arousal starts to go through the air as he reaches for Dabi's thighs and holds him loosely in place as he leans down to nuzzle at his cock, smelling the heat of his quirk and that familiar dead smell that usually clings to vampires for a moment before he lets his tongue loll out and lick along the growing bulge of his erection. 

He's not expecting to be falling forward, Dabi all the way across the room and fumbling for the door handle before he can do it again. The vampire looks mortified as he tries to open the door, only croaking, "Bad dog—", before he has to flee the room as quickly as possible. Tomura leans back on his futon once the door has closed behind him. 

This isn't a route that he's ever bothered with before, but he thinks there's a very good chance of it working against this vampire who seems so unsure of himself and Tomura can stomach a lot if he thinks it will get him an advantage against his opponent. 

///

Dabi puts off going back to do anything but set Shigaraki's tray just inside his door for the next week. He is hungry, but the fact that the wolf had been so ready to... do that tells Dabi disturbingly too much about what other things Shigaraki's past keepers must have done to him. No wonder he'd tried to kill all three. But for as much as he tries to justify why the femoral artery was the better of all of them available to his fangs, he can't deny that having his head between the other man's legs had been something he's been thinking about shamefully since he saw the other man naked for the first time.

It's a very, very rare thing that Dabi wants to leave the house, but he knows that he can't stand it if he has to spend time locked in his room or down with the remaining vestiges of his family. He just wants to be away for a little while and when he decides that he's actually going to attend one of the soiree that he's been invited to so many times throughout the years. He normally ignores them, not wanting to have to schmooze with other vampires, not when being around them tears his mind in two, a part constantly screaming that the world would be better off if he just learned to turn off the vestiges of humanity inside of him and become as strangely detached to the horrors they commit as they are. But another part wants to catch as many of them up in a blaze that burns so hot and bright that there is no hope of them ever getting out of the building. A beacon to anyone who can see it that they can get out from under this regime the way that he'd thought he was getting them away from heroes when he had tried to martyr himself to kill his father. But he never acts on either because if he disappears, then his siblings will be easy pickings, especially since one of the conditions that he was forced to accept to keep them was that All For One sucked the quirks out of their bodies. 

Humans on their own are already in a dangerous position. Even if they could lie about having quirks, their bones can't, and the x-rays would tell whoever eventually caught up to them that they were absolutely not going to be able to make more humans. So they would be toyed with, tortured, and killed. He has done too much to keep them alive to just let them be killed like that now. No. So he usually just avoids going around other vampires and exposing himself to that temptation. It's better for his sanity and siblings if he doesn't, but he needs out for a while and he finds himself getting dressed in another too-nice suit that is not at all what he likes to wear, and calling for a car to take him to the vampire that is somewhere in AFO's new government. He doesn't care what his position is, just that a party this size will probably have good booze and food he didn't cook. He hopes that they won't have any humans on tap, but at least his restraint around his siblings will keep him from letting himself slip if there are. 

The drive takes the better part of three hours and when he arrives at the mansion he suddenly knows that this is absolutely not the party that he should have decided to go to if all he wanted was to get out of the house. Even if it's depressing to wander the slums that are all that's left on the land that isn't barren outside of Sekoto Peak, it would be better than walking up a grand staircase just to get the the front door where he has to pass off his invitation to the person at the door, even worse when he is announced as he comes into the room. 

"General Toya Todoroki—" 

"It's Dabi," He snarls as he pushes past the other people making their way into the mansion at a more subdued pace as he tries to find somewhere in the crowd to disappear into. 

It takes him a second to realize that there is a lot going on. Enji brought him, Fuyumi, and mom with him to an event once when he was very young. It was some kind of charity ball or something, and he doesn't know what the point of it was., but they'd had to dress up and mingle in an ornate ballroom until they were sat at tables to eat as adults talked for a long time. Vampire parties are, apparently, similar in some aspects, at least in dress and demeanor. But the biggest difference is that they are also strange because there aren't horderves like Dabi would be accustomed to, there are instead wolves, at least one for every table, who are sat at the center of it, the ring-shaped furniture holding them in place with a leash at their collars, so that they can be bled by the servers to keep refilling the cups of whoever want to partake. And the ones not here with the same color collars as the pocket squares that are being worn by the servers, are clearly owned by the other vampires in attendance. And they have no qualms about having their wolves on leashes, many of them naked and crawling on all fours, not in their fully shifted forms, but as their hybrid ones. His face nearly flushes when he sees some people sitting with their wolf's head in their laps, petting them like they're animals instead of people. He sees some of the wolves have... belts or cages around their genitals to bind them tight, but others he sees have... toys inside of them. Men and women with plugs inside of them, some with clamps on their nipples, some with bone-shaped gags in their mouths to keep them from barking as they crawl around. 

He is standing, off to the side, in stunned silence as he sees everything that is happening in this room, as he takes in the smell of death, wolf, blood, and sex that must be happening somewhere even if he can't catch a glimpse of it. This is not what he thought that he was walking into, but he supposes he doesn't know anything about the vampire who invited him to this event, nor does he know how other vampires normally celebrate their birthdays. This wasn't what he wanted though, he realizes dimly, not sure how he could even talk to anyone when this all is far beyond anything he was ever prepared to deal with. He considers leaving immediately as the vampire who is the one the entire party is for, comes out with a human on a golden leash as well, people clapping just because they're so impressed with the status of simply having one. The young man is seventeen, maybe eighteen, dark eyes and dark hair, his expression completely slack from how the vampire holding his leash must have made him a thrall. He was pale, sobbing, frightened when Dabi—

"It is rather gauche, isn't it?" 

The voice comes from beside him, smooth and calm, startling Dabi badly enough that he is able to tear his eyes away from the human and give his attention to the man who spoke. He's taller than him by a fair bit, his skin pale and lightly worn, probably at least in his sixties when he was turned, his eyes dark and smiling, with short well-kept white hair, and dressed in a fine suit. He has no wolf on a leash and the glass he holds is a champagne flute, not one filled with blood. "But I suppose everyone is entitled to celebrating their five-hundredth year how they see fit." 

"It's not for me." Dabi tells the other man roughly, meaning to make his exit. This isn't the kind of fresh air that he wanted. He should have just stayed at the house. 

"Leaving so soon?" The strange man says, something in his tone making Dabi pause against his better judgement. He thinks he's fairly untouchable in his position, but he doesn't want to find out he's wrong and put his siblings in danger by leaving a party early of all things. 

"I think I'll go wish our host a happy birthday and then take my leave. I have a wolf at home that I need to make sure is fed." It's a pathetic excuse, but he would rather say that than any of the other caustic thoughts that have been swirling around his head since he walked into this building.

"I had heard that you'd adopted a pet." The man says, his tone so jovial and light that Dabi forgets to hold his tongue as he snaps, 

"I bought a person." Maybe the anger is from being trapped in this world as he is now, maybe it's because he's having to stare down the evidence of what he's traded for the life that he has. They won't survive if he goes, Dabi reminds himself furiously. He had planned on burning up with his father. But he didn't, and now he's here and his siblings don't have anything else in this world without him. He doesn’t know how get them out of the country. He can't abandon him. He just has to make his peace with the devil's bargain he's struck. 

"Yes," and the man's voice still sounds amused as something about how he looks at him as he smiles keeps him pinned in place. "A very willful werewolf to my understanding. How are you finding your new companion, Mr. Todoroki?" 

And for the first time in a long time, he doesn't go out of the way to correct the form of address, not when there is something tingling in the back of his mind that tells him that this man talking to him is more powerful than any other vampire in this room. "He eats his food, washes up after himself, and bleeds well. I don't want anything else from him." His tone is clipped as he turns his attention back to the rest of the room, hoping that he will somehow be dismissed by the other man and be allowed to escape this uncomfortable conversation. 

"That's a shame," the man says with a soft click of his tongue before he goes on, "You have very little companionship in the form of other preternaturals, don't you? With no sire and no thralls, I had hoped that you would find your new pet to be an appropriate way of finding companionship if you continue to choose to live your life in isolation." 

He means to say he doesn't need anyone else, but before he can, the man continues, 

"Perhaps your work is taking up too much of your time to allow you to train him properly?" He smiles wider and it makes Dabi's skin crawl. "Oh, I know, I suppose your quota could be delayed for the month? That would give you plenty of time to get the other things in your life in order. Your new pet for example. And next month, you could bring him with you to an event like this and show myself and everyone else how well you are acclimating to your station after you have been so cold to the outside world for so long. That seems like a fair trade, does it not?" 

Dabi barely has blood left in him to run cold, but as he finishes speaking, his identity is made completely transparent. He doesn't know why he didn't consider that the potato of a man that was All For One three years ago, might have been able to heal to how he must have looked before the war, before Dabi ever interacted with him. But there is only one person in the world who knows about his 'quota' and he is not about to lose what he has managed to get through the blood of one hundred and twenty people. "A month to train my pet would be appreciated." His spine is straight, his tone still clipped and sounding like the words are coming from far away, but he doesn't know how else to respond. "Train him to do what, exactly?" He does not want to have to take him out with him like an attack dog, isn't certain why everyone in this building seems to be so alright with the perverse way their desires and other uses for their wolves are being put on display, but he has already given everything that he has to keep his siblings alive. He isn't about to let his disgust over what he might have to do to the wolf deter him from keeping them safe. He'll make sure they're alright for the rest of their lives, even if he has to hunt down every human refugee in the country to make it happen.

"Oh, well, whatever you like really. Make him prepared to be a companion here, in whatever capacity that you need companionship in. Find a way of putting him to use for those and display that at... ah, yes, there will be a celebration in two months for the anniversary of when Japan gained its global independence after the end of the war. You haven’t attended since the first, but it is far more expansive and lavish than this, and it would be wonderful for one of the heroes of the war to be seen there having fully acclimated to the culture and with a wolf who exemplifies the goals and values of the country." 

Dabi swallows any protests, any vitriol, any shame that tries to surge hot up along his spine as he thinks of the debauchery that is already on display here and the fact that he'll be expected to be participating in it. Let alone with a werewolf who killed or maimed his previous owners. "I would be happy to make an appearance with my new pet." He forces himself to continue to sound neutral as he adds, "However, he is a special case and one with a history of violence. As this is my first time keeping a wolf, I would appreciate any guidance on resources to help assure that I am keeping him under control, and a month may still be too truncated of a timeline for me to make him presentable when so much of my time is spent out of the house collecting my quota. Perhaps it could be delayed until the celebration?" 

All For One stays smiling at him, his eyes flat and dead as a shark’s as he gives a thoughtful hum. "Well, I suppose that would be fair. However, if your dog ends up causing a commotion, you will only need to turn in two humans the next month. I'll be collecting the third from your abode personally." 

Dabi doesn't have anything in his stomach right now, but he still feels how sick he becomes in a matter of seconds as his tongue glues itself to the top of his mouth and all he manages to do is give a weak nod. 

"Very well then. I wish you luck, and I'm sure you can find a wide variety of resources online to help you keep wolves." He looks back out on the display of them that have been brought or provided for this party, and Dabi doesn't think he's mistaken when he sees a flicker of disdain that goes through his eyes as he does so. "I only ever found them useful as soldiers, but I am far too old for such companionship." His laugh is too pleasant, disarming even. It somehow makes him even more aware of the danger he is in. "Ah, it seems I've been spotted. It was lovely touching base with you again, Mr. Todoroki." 

AFO gives him a slight incline of his head and then he begins to walk around the perimeter of the room, making the person who is walking towards him have to either choose to chase him down or abandon their pursuit. Dabi sees a server who has a tray full of champagne flutes and waves them down. Alcohol can't get a vampire nearly as drunk as it can when it's sipped out of a victim's veins, but Dabi is desperate for something to take the edge off, so he brings the server to a pause, takes four of the glasses between his fingers and tips them down his throat one after another before he forces himself to take a breath that he doesn't need and start to walk towards the nearest person with a wolf of their own. He doesn't have room to be squeamish, not when so much is riding on him making an example of Shigaraki now.

///

Dabi straightens his spine as he holds the bowl of steak strips in one hand and then opens the door. It's a little after three in the morning, not that the immediate bright light of the room he's keeping Shigaraki in would allow the wolf to tell that. The lack of windows and constant light are made to throw off a wolf's sense of time. It keeps them from turning on the full moon and will make him weaker and more manageable over time, especially as his body wears down from not being able to get solid sleep from the constant light. He knew that much, at least, when he designed this place, but he is going to be better about more of this. Werewolves are as much an animal as they are person, and for as much as people don't like to believe that they too are animals, they can just as easily be trained through operant conditioning as a dog. He just has to train him consistently so that he does as he's told and hope the bastard doesn't try to gut him or tear out a chunk of his flesh with his sharp teeth. So long as he never is able to tear his head off, there are no other ways that Shigaraki can endanger his life while in this room. It makes it easier for Dabi to train him here, but it doesn't put him any more at ease. He got as much information on his previous owners as he could. The first was a vampire who had been part of All For One's inner circle. He was a sadist who had been a cannibalistic murderer well before he was turned and he delighted in inviting people to parties and butchering his centerpieces slowly, making sure they survived and suffered the entire time. He'd done that to Shigaraki at least half a dozen times before the wolf had managed to get the bone that he had stripped the flesh of, the bone from the hand that had been chopped off earlier in the meal and that was only halfway through regenerating. Dabi had seen the winding rope of maroon scars along Shigaraki's arm and had wondered where they had come from, but knowing the answer only made him sick to his stomach. He'd taken the bone and used it to pick the lock on his other cuff as his owner prepared his guests for the next course. Shigaraki grabbed one of the knives as soon as his hand was free and had sliced his head from his shoulders before he turned back around and they needed eight vampires to pin him back down. 

The second owner was a different kind of sadist. A vampire who adored the sexual thrill of owning everyone in his space and who, apparently, had an entire building full of sired, thralls, and wolves to entertain him. Dabi doesn't need details of what happened to Shigaraki there, he just knows that it had been happening again when he managed to use some piece of jewelry that the man had adorned him with to short out his quirk collar. He hadn't managed to get his deadly hands around that one's neck, but he had been able to grab onto one of his legs and turn that to dust before he was contained again. 

His third owner had wanted him for manual labor, but the arrangement only lasted four months. After everything else that he had heard about Shigaraki, he had been too scared that the wolf was planning something. He didn't want to meet the same fate as the previous two and had sold him back at a loss just to get him out of his hair. Dabi hadn't cared at the time when he'd made his purchase because he needed a blood bag and nothing more. Now he's regretting purchasing such a difficult charge. 

He steps into the room and finds that Shigaraki was curled up on the futon in his wolf form, one red eye cracked open to look at him. 

"Transform." He demands. He would much prefer to train the wolf like this, but he'd spoken to other owners about the anniversary parties of the past. He knows that the political celebration only lasts an hour at most before the feasting on blood, flesh, and whatever else they can get spills out through the night. As humiliating as it is to even consider that, he doesn’t know if he will be able to leave after the speeches. No. This is a way for AFO to remind him exactly where he belongs in this world too, and he is not about to fall short and make the suffering of the past three and a half years mean nothing. 

Shigaraki doesn't change and Dabi picks up the device on the tray and pushes the button. It's a sharp sound to his ears, but the reaction that Shigaraki has to it is immediate, a yip leaving his throat before he's scrambling up on all fours and the fur is receding along his body, the bones snapping back into the shape of a human in a matter of seconds. His ears stay pinned down and he doesn't look up at him as Dabi tells him. 

"It's time to start your training. Sit." 

He's more surprised than anything else that Shigaraki folds his legs underneath himself like he did the first time, his hands fisted, knuckles white, against his thick, muscular thighs, but not looking up at him or saying anything. 

Dabi hesitantly takes a few steps closer and takes a dripping cut of steak out of the bowl. "Open, and if you bite me, I'll have your teeth filed down." Pulled teeth, he's learned, heal, filed ones won't. And a wolf without fangs is nearly as hopeless as a vampire without them. 

Shigaraki looks up, not to his face, but at least to his hand so that he can take the steak gingerly from his fingers, eating it out of his hand carefully before he waits for his next order. Dabi watches him another moment before he reaches for the housing on the wall that keeps the wolf chained in place. He has to hit a release and then enter a code on the keypad, feeling Shigaraki's sharp eyes on him the entire time as he does so, but then the housing clicks and whirrs as the mechanics in the wall bring it so that Dabi can unseat it from the housing, a button on the back starting to glow bright red as he does so and holds the heavy chain in his hand like it is a leash. 

"One wrong move and I won't use the clicker, I'll use this." He warns. Shigaraki does actually look at him then and Dabi pulls on the leash. "Heel." 

He doesn't speak, doesn't pull at the chain, doesn't seem to feel even the slightest flush of humiliation as he shifts so that he is on all fours at Dabi's side. This room is hardly big enough for them to walk around in, more of a closet than anything else, but he still makes him go back and forth along the length of it before he stops and offers him another scrap of meat as his treat. Shigaraki eats it and Dabi's skin crawls as he feels the whisper of sharp teeth against the pads of his fingers. 

Slow consistent training. The use of force has to be carefully applied if he wants Shigaraki to start to think of him as his alpha instead of his captor. If he can get Shigaraki to pack bond with him then he can make it so that he will protect him, his mind rebelling at the idea of any violence against him. If he can get Shigaraki to be safe enough to pack bond with his siblings, then he'll be certain that they're protected even when he does have to leave to hunt for humans. He forces himself to take a breath and then sets down the bowl of meat on the floor before walking Shigaraki over to the shower.

"Stay." He demands as he feels his humiliation saturating his body. He doesn't know how other vampires are able to do things like this, but the way that his whole body feels like it wants to compress into nothing to escape being in this situation is agony. Shigaraki doesn't seem perturbed though. His heartbeat is slow and steady in his chest, his eyes watching him as he reaches with his free hand to turn on the water. He stands outside of the spray, but gets Shigaraki to let the cold water cascade over his body for a moment before he croaks, 

"Turn around." The wolf does so and Dabi finds the wash cloth that he'd left hanging on the knob of the sink, and he gets it wet and sudsy before he kneels down, doing his best to keep a firm grip on the leash so that he doesn't have to worry that the other will lunge for him before he can defend himself. He uses the soapy cloth along the wolf's back, his hand moving along the dips and curves of muscle, over the rough patches of so many scars that litter his body, trying his best to not be so curt with the actions that Shigaraki's instincts won't associate this with being cared for, but having to fight his own embarrassment the whole time as he does so. When he makes the other turn around, he does his best to not look at him below the waist as he cleans him there too before he lets the other rinse off. He doesn't think he can do his hair with one hand and he doesn't trust the wolf to stay where he is if he were to clip the device to his belt. 

Dabi dries him off and then walks him back over to his futon, hooking the leash back into the wall and letting it rearm itself and then moving the bowl right in front of Shigaraki. The wolf doesn't look up at him, keeping his eyes no higher than Dabi's hands throughout the entire process. He hates that. Hates the way that Shigaraki is docile because this is docility in the same way a loaded beartrap is. 

"Look at me." 

For the first time since he woke him, Shigaraki hesitates, but only for a split second before his eyes meet his. He doesn't manage to hide the hatred burning in them behind his mask of neutrality before Dabi sees it. It's been a long time since he's felt helpless, felt frustrated to nearly the point of tears. 

"You're going to be a good dog for me," he demands, pushing the words out so that his seams stop aching with the tears he is absolutely not going to shed in this room. "In two months, we're going to a public event in front of some of the most powerful people in the country, and if you misbehave, I will make certain that there is no 'next' owner," he hasn't ever used his strength to intimidate like this before, usually aiming for quiet, quick takedowns so he can just get his work over with. But he remembers how he felt as a child when he reaches out and tangles his hand in Shigaraki's long hair, pulling him up by the roots to make him look him in the eyes and to force that false indifference to flicker. "No matter what you try, I will take you out with me. There will be no playing this game and hoping you get shuffled off to another member of the court. I am the symbol of the future in this world whether I like it or not, and if you leave a negative impression of that, I'll put you down like you really aren't anything but a mangy mutt. Do I make myself clear?" 

Dabi had to get good at learning how to pretend from a young age. Because after he went wrong, the energy, the desperation, that he had as he tried to make himself something even in the wake of everything else, had been extremely off-putting to other people. They were scared of his intensity, his own mother, his classmates, his teachers, and when there had been threats to send him to a child psychologist, he had known that would spell the end of his training if they discovered it. So he did his best to learn how to appear normal to everyone outside of the house. He had to hone those skills again in the hospital as he was trained to be a soldier because a soldier needs to follow orders and he needed to be the one that would get the order to kill Enji Todoroki. 

He reaches for those skills now and he hopes that they don't fail him as Shigaraki's red eyes take him in for another long moment before he, instead of speaking, lets out a soft bark. It doesn't sound defiant, so he lets go of his hair and tells him, "Sit," again. He makes him sit like that with the bowl of food in front of him until his stomach growls so softly that a human wouldn't have a hope of picking up on it. And then he still makes him wait another fifteen minutes before he says, "Good dog. Eat up." 

Shigaraki doesn't reach for the bowl with his hands, dipping his head down instead the way he was probably expected to by past owners. It makes Dabi sick to his stomach, but he knows that this is what will be expected of them both. He can't stay to watch him though and he turns and starts towards the door. 

"You can hate me, hate your life, act like a person when no one can see, I don't care. Just— Just behave for that event and neither of us will have to do this again." He has to leave. Has to hope that he doesn't get sick as he thinks of how completely he's owned as well by the monster that made him. 

///

Shigaraki has been behaving himself whenever Dabi comes to train him. He waits for him to come and give him his shower, and Dabi doesn't know if that's because he knows how Dabi is trying to manipulate his pack instincts or if it's because he is actually giving into them. He just knows that it's not making him feel any better about subjecting him to these treatments. He also is feeling worse and worse because it's been over a week now since he's fed on the wolf and he's starving. But he knows what he'll need to do, the next part of Shigaraki's training that he'll have to start because it may be expected of him at the event. He just doesn't want to do that, is just humiliated that after the life he's already been forced to live, he is going to end up, once again, being unable to choose something for himself. Sure he was going insane from the arousal that was constantly flowing beneath his skin when he was drinking his bagged blood, but at least he wasn't being forced to act on that arousal. He could hide in his room and let it tear his mind apart and make him sick with guilt in private. He doesn't want to be subject to it again not when he'll have to share that experience publically. How? How are other vampires not completely humiliated to let their need show like that in front of so many other people? How can they feel good about forcing their pets to do something like that? He isn't sure, he just knows that he's been putting off eating for so long because he's been dreading the eventual escalation he knew he would have to make. But he does have to make it. 

Dabi is shaky and nervous when he brings the bowl of meat into the room. He is starting to lose creative ways of preparing the dishes, but everything he read said that a diet of a lot of red meat was the best way to keep werewolves well-fed. He opens the door and Shigaraki, as soon as he hears it happening, is sitting up, kneeling the way he always has, and keeping his head down. He never bothers to put on the smock he arrived in, but from what Dabi can tell, most wolves are not given clothes unless the specific jobs that their owners need them to perform ask them to. So maybe Shigaraki is more used to being naked than clothed at this point and doesn't care about protecting his modesty. It only makes Dabi's entire life harder as he's forced to see him like this each day, the knowledge of what his body feels like under his palms, the way his blood tastes, how he had tried to lick along his cock even before Dabi had even thought to ask for that— it all has been hounding him outside of this room as the desperation that he has been feeling around his feeding for years only gets worse and worse. 

"Open your legs." He demands, hoping that the wolf can't hear the nervousness in his voice and being grateful that he no longer has a heartbeat to betray him. 

Shigaraki shifts into the position he'd had him in last time he fed and watches him, waiting, as Dabi sets the wolf's food to the side. Alphas are supposed to eat before the other members of the pack, except when it comes to feeding their pregnant mates. This is just another level of training, he tells himself frantically as he makes himself climb down onto the futon with him. 

It's easy to forget that all when he has his nose against Shigaraki's skin and he's surrounded in the heavy, electric spice of his blood for a second before his teeth are sinking in and he's taking deep, frantic pulls from his skin. He swallows in time with each heartbeat that pumps more of the heady, rich fluid into his mouth, and knows that the diet he's been giving him has been working because he tastes fuller than he did the first few times he fed. Dabi didn't know that blood could taste so good and he's had the luxury of mostly human blood since he turned. Maybe it's because he doesn't have to feel utterly disgusted with himself when his body starts to heat from taking in his meal this time. Maybe it's because this blood is coming straight from the vein when he's only ever trusted himself with bagged before. He doesn't know, he just knows that it is so easy for him to start to feel his head going hot and his body start to turn restlessly towards the thoughts of other pleasures he has craved for so long without allowing himself to have.

He stops when his stomach is full for the first time in weeks and when he pulls back, Shigaraki is a little paler than normal, panting softly as well, quiet animal whines in the back of his throat as he tries to keep focus on him. 

Dabi tries not to let his voice shake when he demands, "Come here." But it's very hard to hide the way that his body is so stiff and awkward as he sits back, hesitantly spreading his legs. He wore sweats again today, and the tent that his aching cock has made in them is already more than apparent as he does so, his nerves doing nothing to temper his arousal as he puts it on display. He feels shaky as Shigaraki's eyes look down at him, then flick back up to meet his. He doesn't know if he is considering mutilating him or wondering what changed, but Dabi knows he's humiliatingly red as he pulls down his pants and undergarments enough to be on display to the other man. He reaches for the chain, trying to get the tension just right so that it won't set off the security measures accidentally, but tight enough that he knows that it will be easily tripped if Shigaraki decides to misbehave. 

"Service your master." The words couldn't sound any more forced or awkward if he'd tried, and it's only the heady rush of his meal in his veins that keeps him so aroused through it. Shigaraki doesn't protest, doesn't pull at his chains, he just shifts, his hands reaching to wrap around the backs of Dabi's thighs. His skin is so cool against his. That's a rare thing for vampires, but other vampires don't have a fire quirk just barely contained beneath their skin. He lets out an undignified squeak as Shigaraki makes him roll his weight up higher onto his back, causing him to fall back, only part of his torso even still on the futon, as he feels panic swell through him, terrified that he's about to be torn into pieces and starting to pull at the chain. 

Shigaraki's breath is against him the next second though, against his hole instead of his straining cock, and Dabi's mind goes blank as he feels it lave wetly over his body. He lets out a keen of shock, having only ever put his fingers there, and they are nowhere near as warm and wet as the wolf's tongue as he starts to lap at his skin, making the nerves there tingle and light up, his arousal pulsing through his veins. He lets out a suckerpunched sound as the wolf keeps moving his mouth, an obscene kiss against such an intimate place of his body that feels like nothing that he's ever experienced before. It has him seeing stars as his tongue doesn't just circle him, it starts to prod inside, the dexterous tip of it spreading his walls open and bringing that moisture and softness inside of him. It's so much more giving than his fingers are, and he doesn't know if it's just because he's always had a hard time reaching himself there, or if it's because he feels so good like this already because it's someone else touching him this time. Dabi's thighs start to tremble, a tightness starting to build in his chest and along the seams under his eyes and he doesn't understand that. He's the one forcing Shigaraki to do this. He's the one who should feel in control, superior, maybe even indifferent as he uses his pet to service him like this. But he doesn't feel any of those things. Instead his chest is agonizingly tight as he starts to shake under the wolf, his panting breaths turning into thin, whining moans as Shigaraki tilts his head and pushes his tongue in deeper, his hands tightening around his thighs to keep him in place as he pushes his tongue against his prostate and sends Dabi's back arching up off of the floor. 

He fumbles, his hand slipping away from the chain and moving instead to tangle in Shigaraki's hair, pulling to try and get him impossibly closer in his desperation and his nerves go so hot. Is this what he could have been having sooner if he had dared to let anyone else touch him? Is this something he should even be allowed to enjoy at all after all of the fresh suffering he's put into this world that's no better than the way that heroes tried to create a stranglehold on this society? No. He is only supposed to exist to keep his siblings alive. This is far beyond what he should be allowed in the meantime, especially since he knows it's not something that the werewolf would have done if he could have made any other choice instead. 

But it feels so good. It makes his whole body light up and not feel so cold, dead, and awful to inhabit for the first time since he was five years old. He might have not been a vampire then, but he was already a corpse walking around, unshackled to his father's legacy. Dabi can't help moaning, can't stop his hips from rocking into the press of the werewolf's tongue as it licks inside of him. And instead of trying to stop him, Shigaraki's hand shifts so that he can lift him higher, letting him press his feet against the floor on either side of his shoulders so that he has better leverage to rock himself into the movements of his tongue. Dabi brings one hand to his mouth, knuckles splitting beneath his sharp teeth as he tries to muffle the sounds of pleasure that keep spilling out of him and rattling that agony that's building behind his eyes higher and higher. He's never built his orgasm with someone else before, never allowed himself to even imagine someone else's hands on him, and there is some horrible, broken thing inside of him that feels like it's fracturing further with every pass of the wolf's tongue over his prostate that tell him that he's never going to have this and have it be good. That he will always only have this desire when it's tangled around something horrible, shameful, disgusting. He doesn't ever get to feel good without that happening. 

He can't hold in the sob when it breaks free and the smell of blood goes even thicker in the air when the tears start to spill along his temples. Shigaraki's movements pause, his mouth leaving him, but not going far, only shifting so he can look up at him from between his legs. The disgust that he finds in the creature's eyes tears Dabi open at his core so acutely that Dabi immediately lets go of his hair, trying to find enough breath in his lungs to tell him to stop, to make him let go of him, but before he can, Shigaraki has his mouth against him again. His tongue pushes in roughly and he doesn't relent, bringing that ill pleasure hotter through his veins again. He makes it even worse by moving one of his hands, his palm dry and making it hurt as much as it feels good as he starts to stroke his length roughly in time with each pass of his tongue. 

"No—Ngh!" Dabi can't get his breath back, can't make his weak limbs move. He's too weak to make it stop, not because he has been rendered powerless, but because the selfish, desperate part of him that has always needed other people to make him feel good, can't conceive of pulling away from this right now when he's so sure he's close to it feeling better than his own hands have ever managed. 

He gives another sob and shakes against the ground before he can't help it. His orgasm tears through him, sharper and fuller than any frantic one he's given himself after his feeding  before and he's only barely forgetting himself through the pulses of pleasure that are going through his body before Shigaraki is moving. 

He wipes Dabi's cum away on his pants before he stands up and walks over to the sink, washing the rest of it away with the soap and then rinsing out his mouth in the sink. He walks upright like a person and leaves Dabi trembling on the floor in the aftershocks of his pleasure before he moves back over and picks up the bowl of meat and rice that he'd brought him, sitting cross-legged on the floor and ignoring him as Dabi tries to stop crying, to stop shaking, and find some semblance of dignity so he can get his legs back under him. 

He doesn't say anything before he stumbles out of the room and locks the door behind him, and he doesn't stop sobbing in his room for a long time. 

///

Tomura has never had such a miserable excuse of a vampire trying to be his owner before. Even his last one who was scared of his own shadow, had not been as blatantly... broken as Dabi seems to be. The vampire is clearly unsired, which he supposes only makes sense if he came from Ujiko's experiments, and since the end of the war, he also still hasn't found any other vampires to bond with. He's fumbling with his instincts like a child, trying on the suits of cruelty that other fangs find such ease in adopting, and showing Tomura time and time again just how badly they fit. He had been so scared of his arousal the second time he fed on him, he'd run away, and when he tried to make him service him the way that Tomura had expected, he trembled apart and sobbed like he was the one being forced into that position. He keeps trying to 'trick' his instincts into acknowledging him as an alpha, and Tomura just keeps coming to the conclusion that this man would have probably been better off if he had turned into a werewolf instead of a vampire during the experiments. His disposition would have probably been better suited to being an omega wolf, one who would have bonded to anyone who showed him a scrap of decency and never thought about his position further. 

But for as pathetic as his bids at control are, his forthcomingness is more than enough for Tomura to start to make plans of his own. Two months and then he'll be bringing him somewhere with a lot of high-ranking vampires. Possibly even his former teacher. If he can slip his collar then— Tomura flexes his fingers, feeling the way that Decay has grown beneath his flesh. If he can get out of his collar, he'll shatter the world that All For One thinks he's built for himself in an instant. And he'll have an even better chance of doing that if he gets the vampire who thinks he's in control to try to stop anyone from touching his beloved pet. 

Tomura is fairly certain that he's spent far more time around and manipulating vampires than Dabi has spent time around werewolves. He knows where to push to have the vampire bonding to him in place of a proper sire. He just needs to figure out how to make that happen without him running away in tears over and over again. Tomura considers the heat that is starting to form in his veins for the first time since it stopped being chemically induced by his second owner. This is the first time in half a year that he's felt his rut beginning to build beneath his skin. He's not sure if Dabi even knows that all of the rich foods, the room that is safe, even if it's not the most comfortable, and the lack of exposure to any other stimulation would make it build in him faster as his body desperately looks for something to do with the energy. But maybe this is something else he can use to his own advantage. Afterall, Dabi will have a hard time running when he's pinned on his knot, and maybe if he can fuck the fang past coherence, he'll be more willing to give him different leniences to keep getting that in the future. He supposes the only things going for him with this plan of action are that Dabi clearly doesn't have a dominant bone in his body no matter how hard he's trying to act like he does, and he's pathetic enough that it's kind of cute when he starts to blubber like a baby. Tomura wonders if he's ever been touched by anyone else before and he hopes he hasn't been, if only so he can ruin the fang completely. Maybe he can break him on an alpha's knot and then, even if there is some small chance that he survives the destruction that Tomura is going to unleash on this world, Dabi will never be able to pretend to have an ounce of dignity as he needs to be fucked by whatever wolf he can find. 

His cock starts to harden as he imagines having Dabi crawling around on his knees, imagines him presenting to him, his prick red and dripping as a bitching bite bleeds against his thigh. Tomura lets that thought flow through him and then ebb away. He'll have his fill during his rut and by the time he's finished, Dabi will be nothing but a sobbing puddle on the floor who knows what his place really is. Then he'll have the last piece he needs to get his revenge on this world that only ever finds new ways of destroying the downtrodden and discarded. 

///

Dabi avoids going into Shigaraki's room for a week— aside from bringing him his meals. He hates that he didn't get a hatch installed in the door, because even just those two brief interactions a day make his skin crawl. How the fuck is he supposed to train him and show him off in public when even the private training leaves him feeling filthy and disgusting? How can he not when if he fails, his siblings are going to pay the price. That certainly also isn't helping his mood, his siblings wanting to see what's wrong with him as he isolates himself further and further, but his mind not wanting to relent in the slightest. He doesn't want them to find out how he's been buying their safety or what he's being expected to do over the next two months to continue to do so. They already barely move around the house like ghosts. He doesn't want to hollow them out any further. 

Dabi opens the door, intending on just collecting the last tray and leaving Shigaraki his next, when a wave of heat fills the air as he steps inside. Dabi tenses, that smell reminds him of a fever and the terror that goes through him as he thinks that the wolf might be sick has him dropping the food, the door slamming shut behind him as he rushes over to the futon. Shigaraki is curled up on the surface in a tight ball, a tremble going through his body and the smell of his sweat in the air as clear as the sheen of it across his skin and Dabi curses, reaching over to the housing on the wall to take the chain off so that he can gather the wolf and take him— where? Dabi's mind races. What do other vampires normally do when their pets get sick? Do they even care? He didn't even know werewolves could get sick—

Dabi cries out as the chain comes free from the wall because the second that it does, Shigaraki explodes into movement as he tackles him with every ounce of strength in his body. Dabi's legs buckle beneath him, gravity shifting sharply as he hits the hard floor roughly, stars dancing across his vision as his skull cracks against the concrete and sends sickness spilling through his gut. He feels blood wetting his hair before the wound can close and then he's being thrown onto his stomach instead of his back. The world is a blur of shapes, sensations, and colors as his arms are yanked back so roughly that he feels a muscle in his shoulder tear as cold metal loops tightly around his wrists before there's a soft clatter as something it thrown against the futon before Shigaraki's hands are around his neck, the claws digging in and filling Dabi with raw terror that pulses lava through his veins as he realizes how easily the wolf could end his life—

He tries to light up his quirk and then cries out again and Shigaraki smashes his forehead into the concrete, sending his vision black again and putting nausea through his gut. "Try to set me on fire, fang," He snarls, the words sounding like they're coming from underwater as he is pulled back up enough for Shigaraki's breath to go hot over his ear, "And I'll kill you right now instead of giving you what you've been wanting, but too scared to demand."

Dabi knows that he can fill this whole room with fire, but he doesn't know how long it will take for a werewolf to burn when their bodies heal nearly as fast as a vampire’s. Dabi stood in broad daylight with his flames burning through him as well and he was still able to fight his father to the death. The chances of him burning this room down, melting the door— and Shigaraki still taking his head off before he can kill him, are not insignificant. And if Shigaraki gets out— he doesn't want to imagine what he would do to his siblings if he found them downstairs.

"You won't get out of this room—" he croaks as his cracked skull and torn muscle heal. 

"I don't need to. I just need to make sure you know who exactly is in charge from now on if you want to feel good and not starve." It's the most that Shigaraki has ever said to him, and the growl of his voice, the sureness of it, leaves Dabi terrified. That only gets worse when he pushes two fingers into his mouth and drags the pads of them over his teeth, making his skin split and filling his mouth with the hot pulse of the wolf's blood. Dabi's head spins again, dizzy from healing, from being put in this position, from how hungry he is as he's let himself starve again since the last time he fed on Shigaraki. He whimpers, all of his instincts feeling wrong, his head hazy and confused as he starts to suck at the blood in his mouth. It tastes... different than it did before, like the heat of the fever that he could smell in the air is inside of him and as it spills through Dabi's body, it makes his fever rush to meet it. He tries to twist his head away, but Shigaraki keeps him in place easily, using the chain to keep his arms pinned as he brings his other hand to the backs of Dabi's sweats and pulls the fabric down so roughly that the sound of it tearing fills the room.

He whimpers and Shigaraki scoffs as he forces his legs wider, showing him how immediately his body has betrayed him with only a few drops of blood on his tongue. "I have never met a vampire as pathetically needy as you. But I think that you should be grateful that I'm the first person to notice." His hand grabs half of his ass, spreading him open before he spits against his hole. Dabi's entire body goes hot with his humiliation, the sensation even worse because it makes his prick twitch, a pang of sharper arousal going through him as he's spoken to like this, as he's pinned down and violated by this wolf that he was supposed to train to be used like this instead. "If another vampire had gotten to you first then you wouldn't have been good for anything but getting rid of corpses. It's much more dignified to be a nice hot hole for my knot. I bet that after a few times, you'll be so wet and stuffed that you'll even feel like a nice plump omega all full of my pups." 

Dabi's whole body tenses. Knot? Like a dog's knot? Werewolves have those? In their human form? Pups? He tries to shift beneath him again, but Shigaraki only allows him to turn his head so that he can look over his shoulder, and he immediately understands why he did so. He wanted him to be even more frightened as he sees that long, thick cock he's been trying so hard to ignore, erect and flushed, somehow even bigger than he thought it was as Shigaraki lets go of his ass so he can spit into his palm and use that to slick his length. Dabi trembles beneath him, terror and ill-gotten arousal hot in his veins as he thinks he might be torn open on that cock if it's slammed inside of him. 

But Shigaraki doesn't even let him have the dignity that he might have been able to scrape together if this entire encounter was saturated in pain. No, instead he pushes his head against his rim and starts to roll his hips slowly, and the friction of their skin against each other makes the muscles start to loosen. He presses himself along Dabi's back, his breath against his ear as he pushes his fingers harder against his fangs so that Dabi has no choice but to swallow away all of the blood filling his mouth and making his body feel needier and his fear more distant, "A warm bloodsucker, isn't that a novelty?" He mocks his quirk as he holds him on the precipice of destruction as he leaves him to wonder for another moment if he could actually escape this before it goes any further. It's something small, treacherous, and that he always feels rooting him to the spot when he has another vampire's attention on him, that proposes that he shouldn't want to. He was too scared, too disgusted, of his desire to ever find a way to fill it. Maybe he needed someone else to decide what it is he should have. He hadn't wanted it when it was clear Shigaraki didn't like it, but now he's hard. Now he's the one pinning him down and—

Dabi gurgles around the fingers in his mouth, stars exploding behind his eyes as Shigaraki pushes the thick head of his cock inside of his hole. It drags against his skin, but it fills him. It's so much thicker than his tongue or fingers were, so much more solid, and the way it stretches him has Dabi's prick throbbing between his legs as he realizes how completely fucked he is, how completely he is about to be fucked. Shigaraki works his cock into him relatively slowly, but he doesn't think that's for his benefit so much as it is to make sure that the friction isn't uncomfortable for him, the wolf starting to let out animalistic growls in the back of his throat that have Dabi's skin covered in goosebumps and his nipples pebbling beneath his shirt. 

"Fuck, you're so tight, I'd say I can't tell if it's because you're terrified or just because you're a virgin, but I think we both know exactly why." His free hand reaches down, snaking around his body so that he can roughly palm Dabi's cock, and he feels his fangs sink deeper into Shigaraki's fingers as he lets out a desperate sob as pleasure tears through him. His skull was cracked open not two minutes ago and the violence and violations from the wolf, the taste of his blood behind his teeth, was still enough to make him so aroused, and that touch paired with the fullness of being stretched as he's given another inch, makes him cum. 

Shigaraki laughs, the sound hoarse and mocking as Dabi's whole body trembles from pleasure as he pushes his hips harder. More of his cock pushes inside as his muscles are made to loosen as the aftershocks of his pleasure pulse through his body, and Dabi can't see straight as he's made so, so full. He doesn't think he can be this full without being torn open and the drag of Shigaraki's cock against his walls as he starts to rut into him in sharp, shallow thrusts puts little sparks of pain going up along his spine. But the only blood he can smell in the air is from his seams, Tomura's locked away behind his lips as he starts to suck along his fingers, licking at the crimson being offered to him as he is fucked by the wolf. 

It doesn't take long before Shigaraki is holding him tighter, his hips slamming into him with a growl, before something bigger is swelling inside of him. Dabi gags, startled as his insides are forced to stretch so, so much wider, feeling like he's going to tear at any second, but before his muscles can give way, there is a gush of fluid soaking his insides and making him delirious as he discovers there are places inside of him that he didn't even know could be wet until he was suddenly pumped full with the thick, hot pulse of the werewolf's cum. 

He doesn't need to breathe, but he's the one instinctively panting in the quiet room as he's made so full and so wet. Some part of him thinks, for a second, that it's over now. Shigaraki came. That's all he wanted. He can't keep him pinned here forever or they'll both die in this room. He'll have to let him go. 

And then he draws that massive intrusion back out of his hole, cum gushing down Dabi's thighs and filling the room with the smell of it, before he slams back inside of him again. Dabi screams around the gag pressing against his tongue, and the wetness inside of him has made it so there isn't any need for Shigaraki to go slowly or shallowly this time. Instead he starts to fuck him so roughly that Dabi is sliding across the floor slightly as he fills him again and again.

Horrible. This is supposed to be horrible. He should be trying to fight this, trying to bite off Shigaraki's fingers, trying to twist away from him, threaten him, show some kind of resistance, but his body doesn't want that. His body wants to feel more of this ill-gotten pleasure that is being forced on him out of his control. He didn't know that he could get hard again without anyone touching his cock, but as he's fucked so roughly, Tomura starting to let out animal sounds of his pleasure above him, he feels himself lose his grip on reality completely as he gives another weak sob and in a matter of minutes, he's adding to the puddle of cum pooling beneath their bodies again, savoring every movement even when each subsequent thrust leaves his nerves aching sharply beneath his skin as the wolf ruins him. 

///

Dabi doesn't even struggle anymore after the first knot. That thought comes to Tomura through the haze of his need as he manipulates the vampire into the next position he wants him in. A rut is supposed to last a week. A rut is so hard on the body that he knows he'll be too weak to do much but recover by the time it's finished. But he doesn't feel like he's getting weaker as he wakes Dabi for the third time since he trapped him in this cell with him. He still feels hungry and desperate as he watches the vampire whimper and automatically spread his legs for him. His face isn't flushed, Tomura knows better than to let him drink deeply when he has so many more ways he wants to enjoy his body, but his blue eyes are hazy, barely a ring of that color visible behind those blown pupils. The bite he put in his thigh is already scarred over so he leans down and does it again, watching as the pain makes Dabi squirm, his prick hardening again from it as he struggles weakly against the chains that are around his wrists and locking them together.

"Such a needy little whore you're turning out to be," he says, the words thick on his tongue as he moves so that he can lick away some of the blood before he kisses up along his thigh to his lower stomach, to the soft bump he's put there from filling him so many times in the past... however long it's been now. Dabi's cock fills more as he says that, even as he shakes his head weakly in protest. 

"No—" 

"Shh," and it does something to his head that his bitch, even if he's not one in the ways that matter, still follows his orders immediately. "You're right, you're not a whore. Whores get paid. You're nothing but a pet, a toy that just wants to be played with." Dabi tries to shake his head, but he can't hide how much hotter that makes him as he says it. And Tomura feels that heat echo through his head as well as he presses on his stomach, enjoying the way Dabi moans as his body lets so much more of his cum gush out of his hole. "Mm, going to make room for all of my pups and then fill you up again." He sees the way that Dabi tries to spread his legs even wider and can't help letting out another cruel laugh as he does. "You want that, leech?" The thrill that goes through him as he curls one hand around Dabi's throat makes his arousal sing even higher in his veins. He could kill him right now, he could have killed him a hundred times since this started. But why would he throw away something that could be so easily molded? His grip is restraining, not damaging as he holds him where he wants him."Prove it. Bark like a good puppy." 

How many times? How many times throughout the years has he been reduced to less than human? How many times was he put into this position and made to degrade himself just for basic necessities that he still rarely got? He thought the next time he would have power of his own would be in the moment that he was tearing the world down around him. But he feels powerful now as Dabi's eyes meet his, his whole body trembling, his cock hard and straining against his stomach with his arousal as he says softly, 

"Arf?" 

Tomura pushes into his body again and marvels at how the vampire arches into it, hearing his futon tear beneath him as his nails dig into it. The rush of adrenaline that goes through him as he is able to push all the way inside, feeling how soft and wet his insides have become, how his body is still warm with the fire in his veins even though he hasn't reached for it again once since he took away the killswitch, how he hasn't even tried to get that back to free himself from Tomura's grip, fills him with arousal sharper than his rut has even managed. He shifts, letting go of his throat, unwinding the chain from around Dabi's wrists and lifting him so that he can take them out from behind his back. 

Dabi whimpers as it happens, his fingers trembling, purple and blue splotches of bruises so severe that he can see them through the scars as he is able to move them for the first time in so long. His skin will heal soon enough, but now that he's free, he doesn't seem to know what to do with himself, still looking up at him like this is all he can think of letting happen. 

"Shh, it's okay, puppy," he murmurs, leaning in closer and nosing along the seam of his cheek. It's all instinct that has him burying his face into the crook of his neck and trying to find the smell of him beyond the reek of smoke that continually rolls off of his skin. He can't help the content rumble that escapes his chest, his hips giving another slow, filthy drag inside of him to heighten his pleasure as he can smell himself inside of Dabi's veins from the little sips of blood that he's been allowing him. "You can stay right here like a good doggy. You know that you're better off being a pet anyway." 

And the way that the indecision, the flicker of fear, melts away from him as he is given an offer to not have to be in control anymore is something that makes heat ache through his entire body. The fact that Dabi uses his freedom to reach for him, his fingers not trying to scratch or push, but pulling him closer, one around the back of his neck, the other tangled into his hair as he lets out another falsely canine sound that is soaked in desperation, might make him lose his mind. Dabi sits up a little, his legs wrapping around his waist too to keep him moving deeply inside of him as he lets out little pants and moans as he takes every thrust like there is nothing better in the world. 

"M-master," It's the first word Dabi's spoken since this started in earnest and Tomura snarls in response. He doesn't think Dabi can tell the difference between a hungry sound and a furious one, so he drives his point home before he can flinch away from him by leaning in and giving the vampire the kiss that he so clearly wanted. 

Dabi's lips are uncoordinated and messy against his and the realization that he's his first kiss as well makes his wolf howl as he shows him how to make it good. And then he rewards his pet by pressing his tongue inside of his mouth and dragging it across Dabi's sharp fangs. His skin splits, the pain a faint tingle, but the wound stays open for longer than it normally would with the vampire's spit mingling with his own. Dabi sucks on his tongue needily, moaning into his mouth— 

Warmth splashes over their stomachs as a kiss and the taste of him is enough to bring his puppy back over the edge. Tomura thinks it's more than generous that he does so twice more before he sinks his knot back inside of him and keeps him pinned to the bed around it for as long as it takes for it to go down. 

Dabi doesn't fall asleep, but by the time Tomura actually does pull out of him, he finds that the other man is just dazed, still looking at him for what he needs. He wonders if the vampire looked at the sire who left him behind like this, or if there just weren't any around at all in the hospital when he was being experimented on. He can't imagine how anyone would look at a creature that is so pathetic and with such big, pretty blue eyes and not take pity on it. Tomura gathers him closer, leaning back against the wall and letting Dabi curl up in his lap, before he brings his wrist up to his mouth. 

"Just a little treat, puppy. You'll get more when you open the door." He tells him before nosing along his neck again. The smell of their sex has filled the air of this room and it all puts a deeper hunger through him again as he takes it in. It's been... a while? Hasn't it? He might actually need to eat something soon. After Dabi has his treat, he'll get him to open the door for him while he's drunk on his blood. There was another door too, wasn't there? The locked one that goes down into the main level. He doesn't think that Dabi lives with anyone else, not when he's so needy for attention wherever he can get it. But maybe he can get him to tell him more about the house before they go downstairs. Maybe he can get his docile little pet to take off his quirk collar too. 

Dabi, almost timidly closes his lips around his wrist, his teeth piercing into his flesh, doing as he was told and only taking little sips off of his veins instead of the greedy gulps that usually accompany his feeding. Tomura starts to pet his hair with his other hand, and Dabi somehow melts even more. And then the light pull at his skin starts to ebb, and he feels the other man tremble. The little hitch of breath that comes from him as he begins to cry does not bode well for his plans though and Tomura starts to shush him gently. 

"What's wrong, puppy? You can have more as soon as we leave this room, precious." 

Dabi shakes his head weakly, bringing tension through Tomura's body. He is getting out of this room, or he's dying with Dabi inside of it. He would rather just leave, but he'll tear him to pieces if he has to. "...in trouble..." the words are so soft that Tomura can barely make them out as he says it. 

"You're not in trouble, sweetheart. All you have to do is be a good puppy and open the door for me." Since the vampire has abandoned his wrist, he cups his face between his palms instead and makes him lift his head so Tomura can look at him. Tomura has seen so many people in positions so pitiful since he was turned into this. He's been the pitiful creature plenty of times himself. But he doesn't understand how the warrior he watched destroy the second greatest hero in Japan— the only other person besides All Might who could have warranted All For One's attention during the war— could be reduced to this in the end. He thinks that vampires might just be projecting when they say that werewolves can't survive without their packs. They don't need a pack, they want one. They can survive alone, but clearly a vampire without a sire is lost as they try to figure out how to navigate their hunger and instincts in these new forms with their heightened emotions. "I know how much you like to be a good puppy for your master. Won't making me happy make you feel better?" 

And it's a testament to how completely out of his head and desperate for his approval that he is, when Dabi unthinkingly gives another little bark of affirmative. Tomura smiles at him sweetly. What would the benefits be of keeping Dabi around for a little while as he tracks down his teacher? Having a vampire to pretend to hold his leash could keep people from giving him a second glance, and the fact that Dabi already appears to be so socially isolated might mean he can keep him in this headspace for as long as he needs to. 

Tomura leans in and licks away some of the bloody tears from his cheeks, knowing that for vampires, sharing blood can be as intimate as sex. He'll get him soft and hazy again and then he can open the door. If he can get this done while keeping Dabi docile, then he'll be in a better position for getting everything of worth out of him. 

He's not expecting it when the door opens as Dabi is whimpering at him, squirming because having the blood cleaned from his cheeks is making him hard again. Tomura tenses, looking up as the door opens and a warmer light than those in the cell spills past the opening, the fresh air far cooler than the air inside from how warm their bodies have been pressed together so closely for days. 

"Toy—what the fuck?" 

Dabi jolts, his head whipping around to look at the human who is standing in the doorway, his face a mixture of shock and horror. 

"Natsuo?" 

"What the hell, what the hell?" The words are accompanied by him taking a faltering step backwards and Tomura lunges. The human turns and runs, and it's only the fact that Tomura has to drop Dabi out of his lap that gives him any kind of a head start. 

"No!" Dabi still sounds like he's not all the way here, but the door is open and Tomura doesn't need him to get out anymore, and a human that is in this house will be an even better bargaining chip to keep him in line if he does need more leverage to get Dabi to take off his collar. He makes it out of the door and halfway across the threshold before Dabi manages to grab the chain that was trailing behind him and uses what strength is left in his body to pull him to a stop. Tomura half-turns, catching the links closest to him with a snarl before he yanks hard enough to have Dabi tripping over his feet and nearly falling forward as he turns around to find the human again. 

Tomura is fast, but the door down the stairs is already closed, his hands slamming into it, claws cutting through the thin layer of wood over top and scraping uselessly against the metal instead. He snarls again, and then receives another hard pull on the chain around his neck. He turns, his fangs out, ready to demand that this door be opened too, when Dabi hisses right back at him, blue flames licking up over his hands. 

"No! Get back in your cell or I'll burn you alive!" He can barely stand, his body covered in old sweat and cum, more of it leaking down his thighs, tears still on his cheeks. 

Tomura forces his instincts back and straightens up the way he hasn't been allowed to stand in years, reaching for everything he was trained to be until his teacher betrayed him. "No." 

"I swear to god—" 

"If you try, I'll tear your head off. Even if I can't put out the fire, I'll take you down with me." He tells him, not letting an ounce of trepidation into his voice. "Humans are so rare nowadays. I wonder how long it would be before someone else comes to collect him if you disappear— that is, if he even makes it out of the house before the fire spreads." 

And that's the thing that makes Dabi waver. The flames flicker in his hands, and he croaks, "I can't let you go— he'll kill them." Tomura's heard people beg for their lives before. He committed his first murder when he was four and All For One hardly had him slowing down as he was taught to cultivate his hate. He hasn't heard a vampire beg for someone else instead. 'Them'? More than one human maybe. Toya Todoroki had more family beyond his horrible father. Maybe a vampire desperate for companionship and who was probably offered the world decided all he really wanted to hold onto was a little sliver of what had been his home from before his whole life turned out like this. Pressure points, ones that are even more exploitable than threatening Dabi himself. 

"Come over here and undo my collar, and you and I can stay up here and you're going to be a good pet and do whatever I say until I've decided what I'm going to do with you." He takes a step closer to the other man daring him to try to light his skin on fire, before he adds, "Or I'll keep you locked up here for so long that your friend gets curious again, and when he opens the door next time, I'll snap his neck. Or better yet," he leans in close, letting his breath ghost against Dabi's ear as he continues, "I'll bite him. You vampires have to make that a whole thing when you want to turn someone. But I just need to nick his skin, with my teeth, with my claws, it doesn't matter. All that matters is that if he's strong enough, he'll survive the change and he'll be mine. He'll kill you himself if I give the order. And if he isn't suited to becoming a wolf? Then when he starts to shift the first time, you'll get to watch as every one of his bones splinter and snap, tearing him apart from the inside out as he screams the entire time." 

Fresh bloody tears start to slip over Dabi's cheeks, a tremor running through his body as he tries to weigh his options. But there are no good ones. For whatever reason, Dabi seems to already think his sibling surviving is linked to Tomura living as well. Kill him and he loses anyway. Play the game, he encourages him without words, it's the only way to get at least a few steps further than he is right now. 

Dabi lets out a weak sob before he puts out the flames on his hands, the smell of burning flesh still wafting around the hall with them for a moment before he starts to reach for his collar. Tomura grabs one of his wrists in a tight grip, keeping a finger raised in anticipation, 

"You don't need both to key in a code." He tells him coolly, ensuring the vampire doesn't try to decapitate him in some desperate bid instead. 

Dabi takes a shaky breath and types in the code. It takes a few seconds and then the lock buzzes softly. The metal clicks and the chain drags it off of his neck, letting him feel cool air against that skin for the first time in six years. He lets out a slow breath and keeps hold of Dabi's wrist as he reaches down and picks up the collar, five fingers against the metal as he lets Decay spread across the surface causing it to rust, crack, and turn to dust before his eyes. he catches the chain before it starts to go as well, raising a finger so he can take the links and wrap them tightly around Dabi's wrists again. 

"There, now is your friend going to go calling someone for help?" 

Dabi stares down at their feet, every line of him defeated. But after a second, he shakes his head weakly. 

"Are you sure?" 

"There's no one for him to call." He croaks. "They know that anyone else would—" 

Prisoners in this house too then, if only because the society outside of it would have them tested and turned into either breeding stock or corpses depending on if they have quirks or not. 

"Good. Now why don't you show me the rest of this floor." It's not a suggestion as he tightens the slack in the chain and, with a thrill that reminds him how quickly the adrenaline chased away the lingering threads of his rut, he savors saying, "Heel," before he starts to make his way down the hallway, his new pet in step beside him. 

///

Dabi feels like death. The filthy stickiness that was clinging to his body before, how Shigaraki had been holding him close and being so gentle and sweet even though what was happening had been wrong, turning so quickly and so completely into the threats and violence that had come out when Natsuo had seen him like that. He could have died. He— he saw him. Dabi's gut rolls with nausea. He wasn't ever supposed to be seen like that. His siblings had already been unhappy knowing that he had bought a wolf to keep as a donor, he can't imagine how horrified they'll be to hear that he had been fucking him. Will they even believe him if he tells them he didn't want it? 

It's a treacherous little voice in the back of his mind that tells him that they shouldn't believe him. He did want it. He could have picked any werewolf. He picked the dangerous one who had killed before not just because he was cheap, but because he had found him attractive from the start. He's the one who didn't lock up his cock in a cage, a precaution he now understands the necessity of, because looking at it had been such a temptation, one that followed him out of that room and had his hands on his body instead. Shigaraki may have made the first move, but he had been trained to do that, and Dabi was the one who gave in and allowed himself to use his mouth to make him feel good. He's the one who hadn't struggled once the other man had his cock inside of him. How many times could he have escaped but he chose not to because it had felt so good to be held down and made to feel the pleasure Shigaraki could give his body, even at the cost of everything? No, his siblings won't believe him if he told them he didn't want it, that Shigaraki had forced him into those positions, because he can't even believe him. And now they're all in even more danger than they were before. 

He's trembling, fear saturating his veins as he sits on the edge of the tub in his bathroom as Shigaraki showers. The hot water is making steam swirl around them and as the wolf cleans his body with the soaps that Dabi has been using, layering his skin with the scent of him. This is only the first thing that he's done with his newfound freedom, and every line of Dabi's body is tight with his fear over what the next will be.

He's not expecting Shigaraki to whistle and pull at the chains binding his wrists and pull him towards the shower as well. "Come here, puppy." 

His whole body goes hot with his humiliation and he keeps his head fully down as he is pulled into the shower. Shigaraki makes him sit on the stool he has inside for the days when his pain is too high and he can't stand, or when his nightmares leave his body so hot he needs to stay beneath the cold spray for hours. He has Dabi sit, and then he starts to work the soap along his hair and body the way that Dabi had been doing for him for the past week. A mockery of the instincts he was trying to shape. All of this is a mockery and he doesn't know how he is going to survive it if Shigaraki is capable of turning it to cruelty as easily as he did before. 

He says nothing as Shigaraki washes the filth from his skin, but when he pulls on his chains to make him stand, he expects that the other man is finished with this now. He doesn't expect him to use his considerable strength, adrenaline hot fear making sparks leap off his skin when it happens, as those deadly hands pin him up against the slick wall. 

"Don't—!" 

"Shh," Shigaraki's voice is so self-assured and amused as he keeps one hand braced around the back of his neck to keep him there, his other trailing his fingers lightly down his spine. "Just getting you clean everywhere, puppy. Be a good dog and I'm sure I won't slip." 

Dabi whimpers as he feels his deadly hand moving down his body, spreading him open around his fingers, rubbing soap over the filthiest part of him and making that helplessness come back even sharper behind his ribs. Shigaraki presses them inside and he feels the squelch of old cum as he eases it out of him, and he wants to disappear when, despite everything, that sensation and the gentle massaging of his sensitive walls starts to make his body feel warmer again. Tremors start to go through his body before long, and no matter how Dabi tries to bite his lip or strain his hands against the chains and let that pain creaking across his bones distract him, neither sensation can stop the ill-gotten arousal from going through him again. He wants it to stop, he tells himself desperately, trying to find a way to make the words true, but Shigaraki chuckles at him like he already knows how he's lying to himself in the privacy of his own mind. 

"One more and then you're going to keep being a good boy for me as I figure out what I should do with you next." Like this is an indulgence, a treat for a spoiled pet and not a way that he's making Dabi's sanity shatter as his hand shifts to the center of his back so his lips can start to ghost over his neck while he pushes three fingers inside of his body and starts to rub them against his prostate. Dabi squirms beneath him, shaking his head with a weak sob as he feels his prick filling rapidly. 

Shigaraki doesn't pay his protests any attention, and why would he? It's so clear how much Dabi wants this no matter what he might actually say to another person. He doesn't think there's anyone on the planet who wouldn't look at how quickly he starts to moan and rock back into the touches through his shame, that would think the blood on his cheeks is anything but crocodile tears. It's that tangle of sour emotions in his head that have him cumming so hard after only a few minutes, his spend streaking white against the wall in front of him as his legs go so weak. 

"You're going to be such a good boy for me while I'm training you." There's no question in his tone, only amusement as he pulls Dabi away from the wall and sprays him down one last time before he has them both exiting the shower. 

He dries them off and then walks Dabi out into the rest of his apartment, past his bedroom and back into the kitchen and living room area that are on this side of the house. He makes him sit at his small kitchen table and then he goes over to the fridge and looks inside. The array of meat inside earns a soft snort from the wolf, but he does take out a thick steak that Dabi had been planning on feeding him this week. He sets it on the table and then finds the glasses in the cabinet, he takes down two. One he fills with water from the tap and the other— Shigaraki brings his wrist to his mouth and uses his own sharp teeth, though far less exact than Dabi's, to tear open the skin of his wrist so that he can press the open wound over the rim of the cup and bleed inside of it. 

When he sits back down in front of him with a quarter of a cup of blood in the glass, he keeps it close to him so that Dabi couldn't take it even if he wasn't restrained. 

"How many humans are here? Lie to me, and I'll decay the door and find out myself." 

"Three." He croaks weakly. "Please—" 

"Three, your siblings then? I remember your youngest brother on the frontlines during the war. He has quite the powerful quirk. He should have been killed at the end of it. So either you're hiding them here, or someone else knows they're here." Shigaraki watches him, red eyes too sharp. Who the fuck was this guy before he was a werewolf? Who was he when he was in the war to have earned not being killed for all of the trouble he's caused past owners, but not enough that he should be killed? "And given what you've already said, I imagine someone else knows they're here and you are required to be a presentable general if you want to be allowed to keep them." Shigaraki rests his knuckles against his cheek and watches him, amusement so clear in his expression as he adds, "Based on your performance in that final battle, I wouldn't have thought that you would ever go to such lengths for your family." 

Dabi has not been relaxed for a single moment, so he hopes he doesn't betray himself any more by tensing further as he remembers the aftermath of the battle. Some of AFO's people had dragged him from the smoldering crater his fight had left in the earth and then he had been force-fed blood until he hadn't been on the verge of death anymore. They took him to a warehouse, All For One telling him there were refugee humans that they needed to decide what to do with. He hadn't cared. He said to kill them all. And then one of the guards had pulled the hood from Rei's head and taken the gag from her mouth so she just had time to say his name before the vampire behind her snapped her neck. Dabi hadn't thought he had any love for his family then. He hadn't thought he would care if they lived or died but seeing that had made something shift inside of him. AFO made him beg to hold off the executions, and then he had taken their quirks. They made their deal not long later. 

"What price are you paying to keep them here? And why is it related to me?" 

"Who were you?" Dabi croaks instead. It's been three years. Three years of keeping his siblings safe and trying to keep them from asking questions like this, and Shigaraki sees through all of them barely an hour after seeing them for the first time. 

Shigaraki dips his fingers into his water glass and then flicks them into Dabi's face lightly spritzing him with the cold fluid. "Bad dog." 

The absurdity of the action only makes Dabi feel more hollowed out, and he gives up. He has given up and given in to so many things that have been demanded of him since this all started, and he doesn't know how he can get out of this now without leaving his siblings to fend for themselves or trying to appeal to some kind of humanity in Shigaraki. He talks for a while, explaining what happened to him in the hospital, how he had been used during the war, what happened after he was forced to survive killing his father and all of the human's he's tracked down over the past few years just to keep his siblings alive, and how he only has a short reprieve from that right now if he can prove that he was the one to tame such a vicious wolf when it comes to the official independence celebration in a little over a month. He talks and Shigaraki listens, his eyes intense and his ears tilted forward, showing that he is hanging onto every word. 

"I'm only here to keep them alive. I don't care about anything else. I hated the world of heroes, and this new one isn't any better. It still turns people into tools to be used by the people at the top—" he shuts his mouth, swallowing smoke and sparks. He doesn't need to tell Shigaraki that. Whatever he was before, he was sold into slavery and has been tortured and dehumanized every day that Dabi has been able to live in this house, able to keep himself and his family fed and safe from the greatest cruelties that have now become so commonplace in this world. 

"Good dog." Is all the wolf says in response before he puts the glass of blood in front of him. Dabi's wrists are still bound, but he could bring it to his lips if he wanted to, and even though the smell of it is making his stomach cramp with hunger, he can't bring himself to pick it up even as Shigaraki starts to cut into the raw steak. He doesn't say anything for a good long while. "There will be all of All For One's cabinet at that event?" 

"...I think so." 

"And he'll be in attendance as well?" 

"From what he told me." 

"Good. Then when we go to that event, we'll make sure that he has no questions of if you've managed to tame me and then you will be out from under his scrutiny for a while longer." 

Dabi stares at him for a moment, trying to wrap his mind around what he's being told. "What?" 

"I'm going to destroy this world just like I intended to destroy the heroes and I am going to make sure that my former teacher knows that he failed to see it coming before he crumbles away under my palm. You have status and the means to go mostly unnoticed while I plan. Killing him now is an option, but you and your siblings will become the primary targets. And it will be no easy task to keep you doing what I say if they're in danger and distracting you. So I'm going to help you find ways to get them out of the country, and as soon as they're safe, you're going to do whatever I ask as I tear down this country until the only thing left are piles of dust where their cities used to be." Shigaraki holds his gaze for a long moment, "Have I made myself clear?" 

It takes an eternity for him to actually make sense of what he's being told, but after a moment, he manages to give a weak nod. 

"While we're here, aside from when we're working on our public appearances, you're my pet. You're much better suited to that role anyway." 

Shigaraki goes back to his meal and Dabi stays where he is, the blood cooling more and more in the cup as he tries to make sense of how he's being used now. 

///

"Toya?" Fuyumi's voice crackles from the speaker beside his bed, the intercom linked to the lower floor so they don't ever need to come upstairs and he can make sure that they've closed the sun shades when he wants to come down during the day to spend time with them. He shifts, trying to squirm out from underneath Shigaraki's arm. The wolf, even being incredibly secure in the fact that if Dabi killed him, it would lose him one of his siblings, had refused to sleep without him close and he had pulled him tight to his body and taken over his bed. Dabi manages to hit the button and whispers back, 

"What is it?" 

She pauses, hearing the hush in his voice and then meeting it with her own. "Is everything okay? Natsuo came downstairs really startled earlier and he's been locked in his room since." 

He feels strange and not quite sure if he's lying or not when he mumbles back, "Everything's fine. He just... walked in on something embarrassing." 

"Oh. Oh!" He knows the way that she must be cringing because he's doing it himself as he frames what his brother saw like that. "Oh, well, I'm sure that he'll be fine then. Okay, and you're alright?" 

Dabi hesitates, it feels like an eternity for him, but he knows that it's so short of a pause that a human might not even notice that it's happened. Is he? Is this alright? He's wanted to get out of this position from the second he was put into it. If Shigaraki has a way of doing that and can get his siblings out, then he can survive this. "Yeah, I'm fine. I... might be up here for a while. I need to get things in order for a project I'm taking on." 

"Okay, let us know if you need anything." 

"Okay." He doesn't point out that she can't do anything for him, that she still wants to give and serve other people because that's what she spent so much time doing when she still had a life of her own, that all of that is gone now and she's not going to get it back, at least not in Japan. He turns off the intercom and is startled when Shigaraki pulls him closer again. His hands are mostly covered, having found a set of gloves shoved in the back of Dabi's closet and tearing away the  thumb so that he could sleep without risking killing either of them with a stray touch. 

He brings Dabi so that he's laying against his chest again, hearing the strong beat of his heart thrumming there, and Dabi doesn't know if the sound is making him hungry or if it's distracting him from how deafening the silence of his apartment usually is at night. He doesn't need to sleep anymore, but the too many hours that he spends alone too often make him feel like he might shatter apart. So he keeps trying. But the going to sleep part of that ritual only makes him more aware of the emptiness. 

"Do they know?" 

Dabi barely shakes his head and Shigaraki sighs softly.

"Go back to sleep, puppy. We're going to make this work." 

It's been... twenty years since someone else told him that he could rest, since they did so in a way that made Dabi sure that they meant that they would make sure it would be okay if he did take the time to recover from the day. He knows that he shouldn't trust the wolf, that despite what he said earlier, he could have been lying. He could kill him and go downstairs and kill or turn his siblings just as easily, before anyone knew what happened here, then he could go out and get his revenge all on his own. But his heartbeat is steady beneath his ear and the warm smell of spice and storms that roll off his skin are... good. They're quieting, and they make it easier for him to close his eyes and surrender to sleep than he's been able to do in the past several years. 

///

"You're terrible at this." Shigaraki's voice is as flat as his expression despite the fact he's the one on the floor, leather collar around his neck, and the leash in Dabi's hands. He feels himself flush but hopes that the werewolf hasn't given him enough blood today for the color to actually be visible beneath his skin. 

"You're a dog!" He snaps right back. "Dogs are supposed to bark and listen to their owners!" He had been, he thinks, rightfully skeptical that Shigaraki would really be willing to pretend to belong to him for the public appearance that they were going to need to make when they go to the celebration. 

Shigaraki gives him a flat look from where he is on the floor and then he huffs slightly and barks. He is, unsurprisingly, far better at that than Dabi is, and he sits the way that Dabi had originally instructed him to. 

He takes another breath and then says, "Heel." 

Shigaraki doesn't seem any more enthused about that order than the last one, but when Dabi gives a weak tug at his collar, he manages not to roll his eyes before he moves to his side. Dabi takes him in a circuit around the kitchen and living room, just to try to get them both used to how he'll be moving around when they're in public, and the way that he feels his embarrassment making his quirk boil beneath his skin only makes him more confused over how nonchalant Shigaraki is about this whole thing. They'd come to their agreement a week ago,  and since then Shigaraki is more like... an unpleasant roommate than anything else. He wears Dabi's clothes, sleeps in his bed, eats his food, and generally orders him around throughout the day as he uses his laptop and phone to try to make sense of the world he's only gotten glimpses of since he was put into captivity at the start of the war. Dabi doesn't really fault him for any of that, but it is humiliating how he makes him sleep in the same bed with him and how he has insisted on trying to get him to appear as a competent pet owner if he wants to keep going forward with their arrangement. 

"Are we do—" He squeaks as Shigaraki suddenly turns, shoving his shoulders into the side of Dabi's legs and making him fall to the couch. "Hey!" But before he can fully right himself again, the wolf has his hands wrapped around his thighs, one finger raised on each, and is using his strength to pin him down as he pushes his legs open and keeps his thighs spread with his body. He presses his nose against the crotch of his pants and that humiliation spears through him quirk-hot into unwanted arousal, making Dabi drop the leash and desperately reach to push his head away from him before he can smell it. "Stop it! B-bad dog!" 

Shigaraki's eyes flick up to his, and the look is so flat that even without words, he can hear the other man telling him that if he doesn't believe it, there's no way that someone like AFO will instead. He reaches for the waistband of his pants and Dabi tries to push his hands away weakly. Shigaraki hasn't touched him like this in days, but... it's something that has been living in the back of his mind like a weed. It's wrong, it was always wrong. This want has always been awful and disgusting, something put inside of him at the same time his heart was forced to stop beating. Shigaraki licks along his cock through the fabric of his sweats, letting his tongue lave so much saliva there that it soaks through the fibers and lets him feel it along his hardening length. Dabi whimpers, his fingers tangling into the long-sleeved shirt that Shigaraki is wearing as he shakes his head weakly again, not daring to use his words because he knows how false they would sound if he let them out. 

"You're terrible at being an owner, and no wolf or vampire is going to think that you got me under control unless you learn how to stand tall for yourself. They really did a number on you. Did you ever even meet your sire?" He mouths along his cock as he finishes speaking and Dabi's whole head is so messy, the need for more of that wrong pleasure, the way that any flicker of that desire makes his hunger turn from a dull ache in the back of his mind to something absolutely ravenous, and trying to make sense of the words is all too much for him. 

"My sire?" 

Shigaraki sighs, and Dabi has to bite his lip hard, filling his mouth with the taste of his own blood, as that sensation goes over his sensitive skin. He pulls away and Dabi has to fight every perverse, twisted part of him to stop from begging him to come back. He sits back on his heels and looks up at him, "Your sire, is the person who turned you into a vampire. I thought they might have something to help keep you all from going feral, but clearly not. Your sire is supposed to teach you how to feed and how to regulate your heightened emotions. I guess you were more useful to them when you were so out of control the only thing you were thinking about was your revenge. But I can't rely on you if you're always this close to letting your emotions take over your sense." Shigaraki stands up and reaches for his collar, taking it off and dropping it and the leash onto the coffee table before he sits down on the couch beside him. Dabi feels childish as he squeezes his legs together and shifts to angle his body away from him, his shame still burning bright beneath his veins. Through the long pause of those movements, Dabi thinks that Shigaraki might be expecting him to say something, but he doesn't have any words. He already knew he was wrong, he thought he'd outlived his usefulness years ago. If Shigaraki just becomes the latest person to discard him, then that wouldn't really be any surprise. 

"Fine." Shigaraki's tone brokers no room for argument and he picks up the leash and collar again. Dabi isn't expecting for him to tighten it around his neck instead, pulling it tight before he takes a step back. "Heel." 

Dabi's whole body shivers from heat. "Wh—" 

Shigaraki bares his teeth and hisses at him. It's not a wolfish snarl, it's a hiss, the way that Dabi hisses and it immediately makes him staunch his protests and leaves him feeling dazed. "You clearly aren't capable of learning without being led, so you're going to be my pet for the rest of the day. If you earn it, then you can get a reward later. Heel." 

Dabi slips off of the couch without another word, looking up at Shigaraki like there is a magnetism to him that leaves him unable to look away. 

"Better. In public a good pet shouldn't need verbal commands to do what their master wants. That draws attention to them and can be considered uncouth and distracting in some companies." Shigaraki talks like he really does know what this all is, like he knows vampire culture better than Dabi has ever even tried to, and he sits on the ground and listens to him with bated breath. He crawls around on the floor the way he's told to, he eats scraps of food out of Shigaraki's fingers when he's given them, and the longer this goes on, the more the embarrassment under his skin sweetens and sours, arousal and shame making it harder and harder for him to focus as his cock gets so hard that he doesn't have a hope of hiding it when he's asked to sit, and can't stop trembling when he's made to walk around the room. 

He's panting softly when Shigaraki stops him in the bedroom. He clicks his tongue and has Dabi sit on the floor as he sits on the foot of the bed, red eyes dragging over him to the shame tenting his pants that he doesn't dare to cover because he's a dog. A dog wouldn't know that it should cover itself up. 

"Omegas and betas are used to being used sexually by their other pack members in non-familial packs, and vampires who are able to establish themselves as their alphas, are easily able to take advantage of that subservience and have a more docile pet. Alphas have to be broken or bitched, their cocks locked up, thighs marked, and raped regularly to make them submit." Dabi flinches at the words and Shigaraki's eyes narrow. "And well before vampires enslaved us, werewolf packs were using bitching as a tool among themselves. Made packs with too many alphas needed a way to create a clear organization of leadership, and in packs without omegas, they needed someone who could help them get through a rut. Betas don't have the same secondary secondary sex characteristics as alphas or omegas, but those two do. Omegas just stop developing before they get a knot and alphas bodies just don't turn on their slick glands unless they receive enough stimulation over a long enough time period to turn them on. Vampires exploited this weakness, and used it to their advantage because they're so fucking bad at keeping humans alive as thralls." Shigaraki sounds just as disgusted by that as he does talking about the subjugation of his species. "Vampires are impulsive, their existence is inherently selfish and parasitic. They can't create anything, they just destroy what they can get their hands on. That is boiled right down to their emotions and the way that they are hungry all the time. They don't group together in family units, and it's beyond a rarity that they will choose to cohabitate with other vampires outside of a spawn who acts as a servant, chewtoy, and fuckdoll. Sires make other vampires just to keep themselves entertained, and then they keep their spawn tight under thumb until they get bored with them because they have to. Otherwise one wrong word could have the spawn getting so emotional that they might lash out against their sire and kill or maim them. Making a spawn takes a lot out of a vampire because it's unnatural for them to do. Their spawn is stronger than they are for a long time, and keeping such strict control over them is how they ensure that they don't find out about that." 

"You didn't have anyone to teach you when to let out those heightened emotions which is why you can't regulate them now. I wouldn't be surprised if I was the first person you ever fed on directly." Dabi tenses where he's sitting and Shigaraki doesn't even have the grace to look smug. "You never had anyone touch you either, have you? You just drank down whatever bagged portions you could get and then got off fucking your hand." 

And his arousal had lowered, his cock not aching quite so much as he listened to what Shigaraki knows about this world that he hasn't been able to stumble into without risking the safety of his siblings. But when attention is put back on it, that shame starts to eat at him again as he tries not to squirm as he's dressed down so easily. 

Shigaraki reaches back and gets one of the pillows off his bed. It's a decorative one that the person who decorated the house had put on the bed. A firm long cylinder that he always tosses to the foot when he goes to sleep because it's the worst pillow on the planet. Shigaraki throws it so that it is in front of him and Dabi feels his stomach sink. 

"You're a needy, useless mutt, and I'm going to have to teach you when you're allowed to act like it before anyone will believe that I submitted to you after how hard I've fought everyone else who has ever tried to get me to do so." He looks down at him and Dabi shudders from how small he feels under that look. "So you're only going to get to feed and feel good when I say you can. And you're going to start by showing me just how desperate you really are to feel good." He waits expectantly and Dabi is starting to shake from how hot his arousal is beneath his skin again. His cock is straining against the front of his pants and he can't think straight as he tries to... mount the pillow. He spreads his legs wide, letting the fabric pull tighter against his erection, before he has that firm pillow pressed between his legs. 

The pressure immediately makes him see stars and he gives a weak twitch of his hips.

And then the collar goes taut as the leash is yanked hard, nearly making him fall forward as he brings his attention quickly back to Shigaraki. "Bad dog. Not until your master gives you permission." 

The whine that comes out of him in response doesn't even sound like it could have come from his throat but having the wolf looking at him like that, having him force his shame to be on display like this, makes his whole body even hotter than it was before. Dabi manages to lock his hips in place, but he doesn't manage to spare himself any further embarrassment when being so completely controlled by the other man makes him gush pre inside of his pants, creating a visible wet spot over the head of his cock where it's straining against them. 

"That's so cute and pathetic, puppy. You've always been so pathetic, haven't you? It's a good thing that I'm here now to teach you where you belong or someone else would have eventually found a way to make you their eager little bitch instead." And the words come ladened with the understanding of the information that Shigaraki gave him the moment before, which only makes the insult sting his nerves more sharply. He tries not to let it do anything else to him, but he can't help how badly it makes his body ache for release. 

"That was a cute sound too, puppy." He smiles at him, something so vicious in it even as he doesn't let it put any of his sharp teeth on display. "Why don't you show me how adorable you are when you beg like a dog and maybe you'll earn a treat." 

Dabi doesn't hesitate for a second, yipping and whining as best he can to try and get the other man to give him what he wants. 

Shigaraki makes him do it until his throat feels dry and his pants are soaked with pre-cum before he lets the leash go a little slacker and says, "Alright, puppy. Show your master how good it feels to hump a pillow like an animal."

Dabi doesn't have the mind to protest, his fingers just sink deep into the low pile of the carpet as he starts to rut his hips into the plush surface. The first touch of friction has him moaning loudly as he completely loses any ability to keep himself from moving as roughly and quickly as he can to feel good. He hasn't felt good since he let Shigaraki do all of those things to him. Even when he aches for it in the shower, he hasn't been able to get himself over the edge because— because Shigaraki wasn't the one there forcing his body to do that. He couldn't stop his shame from souring his arousal too close to his climax and he just kept ending up stroking his soft cock with a sob in his throat. But with those eyes on him now, not disgusted, but amused, as Dabi's mouth falls open around his moans and pants like he really isn't anything but an animal as he grinds his clothed cock against the plush surface, he can't stop himself from feeling that pleasure go through him again. He keeps moving, smoke starting to trickle out from his seams, every push and press not only giving himself something to rock against, but dragging the slickening fabric of his sweats and undergarments over his cock again and again, bringing even more sensation there and making the friction sweeter. He doesn't think he's managed to last even five minutes before he's letting out another loud moan as he pushes in one more time before he cums so hard that his fingers tear loose chunks of his carpet as he soaks his pants with a puddle of cum. 

Dabi trembles as he stays straddling the pillow, each fresh wave of pleasure that pulses along his cock making his head feel full and his limbs so heavy. It's only when Shigaraki pulls on his leash that he manages to blink and focus on him again, and even that still feels so distant. 

"Such a dirty, needy pet," he coos at him, getting him to dismount the pillow and crawl over to the foot of the bed. He brings his other hand to his cheek, stroking along his seam and then down to his chin where he wipes away the trickle of drool that is dripping along his chin. "That's okay. You're going to learn to be such a good boy for me, aren't you?" 

Dabi forgets himself for a moment, just nodding weakly. Anything. He'll be anything for Shigaraki if he doesn't have to be what he was before, if he can feel this good all of the time instead. He was never made to be a person in the first place. This is better. 

"How do good dogs tell their owners they're doing what they're told?" 

He gives another weak bark and Shigaraki smiles at him before his hand goes up to his hair and he strokes it, his nails scraping lightly over his scalp and making Dabi press back into the touch. 

"Good boy." 

Shigaraki stands from the edge of the bed and makes him heel again, trying to walk him around the room another time. But as he crawls, he becomes even more aware of the sticky puddle of cum that is clinging to his skin and making him so wet and disgusting— and his cock starts to get hard again. By the time they're back in the bedroom, Shigaraki is shaking his head lightly. 

"I think someone made a mistake, you shouldn't have ever been turned into anything but a needy little omega. Then no one would expect anything from you but being a nice tight hole and a cute leaking cock." 

Dabi whimpers at him, wanting to get back on the pillow again immediately. 

"You need to learn how to be patient, puppy. You only get to play with your naughty cock when I give you permission. On your pillow."

Dabi goes immediately and barely restrains himself from moving before he tells him to. 

"You can make yourself feel good, pet." 

He starts to move again. His hips are, somehow, even more frantic than they were the first time. The squelch of old cum inside of his pants is obscene and he can't look away from Shigaraki as he lets himself be turned into nothing but a desperate, rutting animal for his amusement. He's worthless. He couldn't have gotten this far without someone turning him into something he wasn't, he couldn't be a good vampire, he hasn't been able to keep his siblings safe on anything but charity, and he hasn't ever been able to feel good without the sensation being soaked in something wrong and foul. But he still keeps rushing back towards it. He knows that he should be disgusted enough to not want it, to not like it, but Dabi races towards another orgasm so quickly that he doesn't think he could have stopped himself from cumming if Shigaraki had knocked him flat on his back. He moans loudly as he shudders through his second orgasm, but before the pleasure can finish coursing through him and his body can slump, the collar it tugged on and his attention is pulled back to the wolf. 

"Bad dog, I didn't say that you could stop." His expression is cool and unflinching as he speaks. 

Dabi blinks, trying to make sense of the words. "Woof?" 

"I said that you would play with your needy cock when I gave you permission. That means you don't stop playing until I give you the order. Keep moving, puppy." 

His head is so hazy, but he starts to shift his hips again anyway. His sweatpants are completely soaked, the cum leaving sticky streaks against the fabric of the pillow as he tries to grind himself into it. That sharp pleasure-pain that he's only ever felt when Shigaraki was fucking him comes back, making his length ache and tingle. His body wants to be spent now, but forcing his hips to keep moving is continuing to give him the friction that felt so good a second ago. It's sharp and uncomfortable and... it makes his arousal start to build again as he's once again told what to be for Shigaraki's amusement. He knows immediately that this is beyond anything that he could have ever conceived of on his own and he starts to make more bitten-off sounds of pleasure as he continues to move. He isn't supposed to like this. 

It takes longer than his first or second, but Dabi manages to hit his third orgasm, and the puddle in his pants only grows a little bit more before he looks at Shigaraki desperately. He thinks that maybe he'll get a reprieve, but then he smells him and sees him. The wolf is still sitting on the edge of the bed, holding his leash. His eyes are still watching him, intense and hungry now as he sees that his cock is half-hard from... watching him. From making Dabi debase himself. The scent of his arousal is thinner than the overwhelming reek of Dabi's going through the room, but it's still there, still heady and crackling through the air like lightning. 

And even though it hurts, his cock starts to get hard again and Shigaraki watches him expectantly.  Dabi starts sobbing before he's fully hard again. The pillow and his pants are soaked, the smell of his cum sour and awful as the pain and pleasure along his cock have him gasping and quivering as he tries to make it just feel good. He can't manage that, not really, but that sharpness becomes entirely too much for his nerves all too soon and this orgasm comes with only a slight twitch of his hips and a sob that shakes through his entire body as nothing comes out of him even though his aching balls still try to go so tight as it happens. 

"That's a good boy. I think your cute prick isn't going to distract you anymore for the rest of the day." Shigaraki says, drawing Dabi's attention back to him through the bloody tears on his cheeks. He watches as the wolf spreads his legs wider as he shifts to pull the sweats down over his hips, just enough so that he can take out his own cock and show Dabi the thick, tempting length that he's been dreaming about since he first saw it and that he's been so desperate to have inside of him again since the end of Shigaraki's rut. "And I think that it's time I give my pet his reward. Come here, precious, I'm sure you're hungry." 

Dabi doesn't have the space in his mind to wonder if it's fucked for him to be so excited about having a cock in his mouth. He just knows that his mouth is watering as he crawls off the pillow and between the wolf's legs. Shigaraki reaches for him then, one hand curled around the base of his cock and the other catching Dabi around the back of his neck as he draws him in. He can smell the heat of his blood rushing through his veins and feels his fangs lengthen, even though he knows that he needs to put them away to make room for Shigaraki's cock in his mouth. "Open wide." 

His mouth falls open immediately, trying to show how good he'll be for his master to use. Shigaraki looks at his teeth and Dabi tries to make his fangs retract, but after another second, he moves his hand to press his thumb back between Dabi's molars to keep him from being able to bite down roughly, pulling at the staple in his cheek on that side and making his whole body feel even more warm and hazy from how he allows himself to be manipulated into the positions that his master wants. 

"Not too hard, puppy, or I won't let you do this again." Shigaraki warns, but Dabi can't quite make sense of what he means before he's feeding his cock into his mouth. 

The flavor of his skin is slightly salty from the day, but Dabi can barely taste that when his length is so hot and hard, so full of blood that it makes his stomach clench around his gnawing hunger even as he tries so, so hard to keep those instincts at bay. He needs to behave. Dabi tries to close his lips around him as Tomura feeds himself halfway into his mouth, enough so that he's stretching his jaw even more and the weight of him is heavy against his tongue as he starts to lick at him, feeling the softness of his skin and finding the enticing veins that wind beneath it. Shigaraki takes a slow breath and then presses himself up a bit, putting the tips of Dabi's fangs against his cock. 

He tries to shift, but stops moving quickly when Tomura murmurs, "Come on, puppy, it's time for you to eat." 

Dabi stares up at him uncomprehendingly. He's so hungry, but Shigaraki can't possibly— The three fingers cupping his lower jaw start to coax it closed and Dabi whimpers as he... bites. 

His fangs are so sharp that they sink into his flesh without resistance when he allows them too, and Shigaraki flinches, his cock softening slightly against his tongue as he lets out a slow, pained breath. But then he pushes harder between his teeth to make Dabi retract them from his skin. And the blood that was rushing to make him hard spills out across his tongue instead, hot and saturated with that rich spice of his master's arousal and Dabi is left moaning, sobbing, as his hands scratch desperately over Shigaraki's thighs before he's trying to get his cock as deeply into his mouth as possible. It's automatic for his tongue to find the little punctures he's left along his length, licking those to keep them open as he sucks at the rest of him, trying to draw more of his meal into his mouth. 

"Fuck, that's it, puppy." He takes his hand away from his mouth, "Should've known how desperate you would be for even a drop." He sounds breathless, his heart beating faster in his chest as Dabi gets him all the way into his throat so he can swallow away his blood as quickly as it fills his cock, bobbing his head to catch more of that flavor on his tongue and whimpering when the meal and the saltiness of the pre that leaks inside of his mouth make his own arousal try to surge back to life under his skin. He sobs weakly as that feeling tries to go to his cock, but it's too sore, too spent, and it just aches as he stays soft in his soiled pants. He's not expecting Tomura to wipe away some of his tears before he curls his fingers into his hair, holding him tight as he rolls his hips forward, pushing himself back into his throat roughly and making Dabi feel so full as he takes his full length and gets the wounds bleeding directly against his tongue. The sound of his sob, of his moan, are muffled around the hot, hard flesh between his teeth and the needy swallows as he tries to take as much blood as he can get from the shallow punctures he put into his skin. 

"So cute crying like that, sweetheart," He murmurs, his eyes on his and starting to glow as he looks down at him. "You just can't help it, can you? Poor thing. How little pleasure you must have had in your life even before this for it to always make you cry so easily. That's okay, baby boy, I'm going to give you as much as you can take so long as you're being a good boy for me and playing your role in public." He guides Dabi a little more, making sure that he is going at the pace he wants, and then he starts to move his hips harder and faster, bring his length deeper and deeper into his throat, until he has to wait for him to pull back to be able to swallow the mixture of pre-cum and blood that have gathered inside. Each swallow makes his whole body tingle, the blood nourishing him and trying to be enough that he can reach the height of his own pleasure again, but he can't. He just sobs harder as he holds onto his master's thighs as he tries so desperately to get more and more of his cock deep inside of him. He needs to have more. 

Tomura moves inside of him, letting him drink until even his saliva can't force the shallow wounds to stay open against the werewolf's healing, and by the time the taste of blood is gone, Dabi is just swallowing so eagerly to make his master feel good as he's used for his pleasure. He takes every thrust and when Shigaraki pushes all the way down his throat and his balls tense, Dabi moans before the first splash of cum rushes over his tongue. He swallows down every drop, the force of this nothing compared to the pulse of blood from an artery, but somehow leaving him feeling just as dizzy and intoxicated. 

Then Shigaraki takes his cock away. His hands leave his body as he checks himself to make sure he's healed, and then he starts to shift to pull his clothes back into place. And Dabi is left, kneeling on the ground, still starving, his mouth and throat aching, his cock raw and sticky in his pants, and... something breaks. He doesn't sob this time. He bites his lip, curling in on himself to make him smaller, trying to disappear because this is wrong. Disgusting. He's so hungry and despite every way Shigaraki has treated him so far and how much he was made to show his desperation, it's still there. He's still desperate to have more. More sex, more blood, neither of which he wants to need the way that he feels himself craving right now. He can't stop it from happening. He's a bad dog. He's bad at being a vampire. He's not going to be able to pretend that he's ever been the one in control and he's going to get Shigaraki, his siblings, himself, all killed—

"Shhh, hey—" Shigaraki's voice is softer than he would have expected it to be, but the wolf has moved away from him. Of course he would. Why would he stay near someone who bought him? He doesn't even understand why Shigaraki is bothering to use him in the limited ways he can when Dabi is so worthless. Not when he could tear through him, take away the door, and try to turn his siblings. At least if they survive, they'll be useful to him. Hands come back against his skin, one on the side of his neck, one coaxing him to look up at him, and Dabi barely manages a weak hiss, sounding more like a distressed kitten than a vicious creature of the night as the noise makes him let out a wracking sob that shakes his whole body. 

"Oh, puppy," Shigaraki's voice is so blatantly pitying that Dabi wants to move to the window. It was afternoon when they started training. He's sure the sun is still out. Burning again would be less painful than this. But Shigaraki doesn't let him go anywhere. His hands move, encased in the cloth gloves he usually wears to bed, and he picks him up from the floor like he weighs nothing at all, holding him close and stroking his hair. "Shh, it's okay, baby. I'm right here." He stands, moving so he can sit up against the headboard of the bed as he keeps Dabi in his lap. But the soft words and gentle touches only make Dabi feel worse as the person he locked in a cell tries to comfort him. Shigaraki shouldn't have ever tried to strike a deal with him, he shouldn't have ever been interested in working with him either. He should have just killed him and gotten himself out of this situation. 

"Come here, firefly," he murmurs, curling a hand around the back of his neck and then guiding his face to his pulse point. "I know it's a lot, come here. You need to eat more, you've barely had anything since before my rut. You can't get better at controlling yourself if you're always starving and binging, sweetheart." His voice is so soothing as he brings Dabi's mouth to his neck. He shakes his head weakly but Tomura keeps him pressed there until the overwhelming sound of his pulse and the iron in his veins makes his mouth water and his fangs lengthen against his sense. He can't help it, nothing more than a feral animal—

Before he can lunge and tear out Shigaraki's throat, the hand around the back of his neck tightens and the wolf guides him to his skin slowly, making his teeth sink in beside his artery instead of letting it gush into his mouth. He whimpers, but Shigaraki strokes his hair with his other hand. "That's it. Slowly, you don't need to rush. I'm right here. Just take little sips and you'll be able to eat until you're full, puppy." 

Dabi can't keep crying if he wants to have as much of this hot blood slipping down his throat as the other man will allow, and he finds his head getting foggy again as Shigaraki keeps petting him, occasionally squeezing the back of his neck to keep him from pulling too hard on his veins or trying to sink his teeth in deeper. And slowly, Dabi finds the rhythm that his master wants him to use. 

"There, just like that. You're doing such a good job, baby boy." He tilts his head so that he can rub his cheek against Dabi's and that turns his insides into a needy puddle. His fingers tangle into Tomura's shirt and he clings to him as he drinks slowly. And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks. Until... he feels full. Dabi hasn't once felt the hunger inside of him truly abate since he woke up like this. Even when he was burning his father to death, his fangs had been out like he would have been able to drink the vaporized blood from the air. He withdraws his fangs, but Tomura keeps him close. "All done, sweetheart?" 

Dabi barely manages a nod against his skin. 

"Okay, now you just have to close the wound, baby." 

He hesitates. He's never had to do that before. He thought that his spit could only keep someone bleeding for him for as long as he needed it to, but he tries to lave his tongue over the wound again. Something about the... viscosity of his spit changes. It thickens the way that it might have if he had been eating a sour candy as a human, not so unpleasantly so that he would compare it to mucus, but definitely thicker than the way it usually feels on his tongue. He licks at Tomura's skin a few times and the bleeding stops, and then the bite gets rough under his tongue. It's only then that the wolf lets him take his mouth away so that he can see the two scabs that have formed there. It takes another few seconds before those heal up too, and the only evidence of his bite is how the wolf's neck is still shiny with his spit. "There, you did such a good job, sweetheart. Now let's go get cleaned up." 

Dabi still feels dazed, drunk almost, as Shigaraki starts by using a tissue to clean up all the blood on his face, lavishing his skin in soft kisses as he does so, over his cheeks, on his forehead, even having him close his eyes so he can press kisses over them too. And when the blood is mostly wiped from his face, he picks Dabi up and carries him into the bathroom. Dabi stays in his arms, his head too heavy and confused to understand what's really happening before he's being sat down on the edge of the tub as Shigaraki leans over to plug the drain and start to fill it.

While the water pours into the basin and starts to fill the bathroom with humidity, the wolf chuffs at him softly, leaning in to rub the sides of their necks together before he coaxes Dabi into lifting his arms so he can take off his shirt, and then makes him shift so he can take away his filthy sweatpants and his underwear as well. Dabi's body goes hot, blood going to his cheeks as he blushes, seeing what a mess that he'd made all over himself before Tomura had deigned to touch him. 

"You look so pretty with my blood bright in your cheeks, puppy." Tomura murmurs, discarding Dabi's clothes and then removing his as well. He puts some soap in the water, the medicated stuff that Dabi always uses to ensure that even with his supernatural abuilities, he's not falling apart from his seams. Then Tomura gets him to step into the tub and he follows him in. He tries to shy away, the weak flicker of thought that goes through him telling him that he should just get cleaned and then get out of the other man's space, but Tomura draws him close. He has him sit between his legs as the other man gets the spray attachment and guides Dabi's head back so that he can wet down his hair without getting the water in his eyes. He takes his time, making sure the water stays just right, before he gets the shampoo and begins to work it very carefully through Dabi's hair now that he's not wearing gloves again. He washes the sweat and oil from his scalp and then he puts his conditioner in before he switches to a soft wash cloth and begins to move that along his skin as well. He doesn't go quickly, always going around his seams slowly and carefully, making sure that not an inch of his skin goes unnoticed. His prick aches when he cleans away the smears of old cum that were clinging to him, but Tomura just shushes him gently before kissing his temple again. Dabi doesn't know if he's ever felt so... small? Taken care of? Since he was turned. The hospital was cold. The training was hard. The blood bag he was thrown once a day always tasted old and stale. The blood from his siblings was always taken cold from the fridge and only in small sips once every few days because he couldn't stand the way that feeding put such a needy heat under his skin. He hasn't ever been full before, hasn't ever been allowed to let someone else's hands move over his skin without inflicting violence, especially not when he was only turned into this so that he could kill. Shigaraki washes all of Dabi's body and then he cleans his own skin and hair before pulling Dabi back against his chest and rubbing soothing circles across the skin that he can reach.

He doesn't say anything, but just being allowed to be close is a luxury that Dabi didn't ever think that he would get, and he tries to keep the water warm with his quirk so that he can stay like this for as long as he can. Tomura chuckles when he must feel only the water around their bodies not going tepid with time, and eventually he pulls the drain to let the soapy water wash away as he rinses out their hair for the second time and makes sure that their bodies are free of suds. He helps Dabi out of the tub and gets their towels, drying off Dabi's body for him and then wrapping him in the fluffy fabric before he does the same for himself. Then he takes him back to the bedroom. It's still light out. Dabi always has an innate sense for the sun now, even when he was being held 24/7 in a windowless facility made to disrupt his senses, he knew when the sun was out. And that must mean it's still very early evening. But Shigaraki still brings him over to the bed. He turns down the sheets and then gets Dabi into it, crawling in alongside him and turning out the light before he pulls him closer. 

He lets Dabi press his ear back to his chest, and the rhythmic breathing and beat of his heart behind his ribs makes some part of him twinge with the idea that his isn't quite right. But a bigger part of him is able to stay where he is and be content because his hands are moving over his skin again. Dabi hasn't... ever had someone else touch him so much, especially not when their intention wasn't to hurt him. He's never had hands holding him, stroking his skin, trying to find any drop of tension as they might appear, and trying to coax them to slip away just as quickly. He doesn't think that he should feel so soothed to have hands as dangerous as Tomura's on his skin, but they keep him feeling soft and distant even as he starts to speak again. 

"You can be such a good boy when you're following orders, baby boy. It makes me so proud when you're being so good." Tomura nuzzles at the top of his head. "It's not your fault that you don't know how to be good without someone telling you how to be. The people who made you didn't want you to be able to function without them. But I'm going to help, sweetheart." Shigaraki sounds so sure. Dabi hasn't felt sure about anything since he burned his father alive and thought that he was about to mix their ashes through that battlefield. "I'm going to teach you how to feed, precious, and how to control your emotions." He promises as he holds him.

Dabi doesn't feel very in control when his seams start to ache again, too swollen from how much he's already cried to let out any more tears, but unable to fight how the words make him want to. "I hurt you." 

Shigaraki's hands stop as they move over his body. For a long moment, Dabi thinks that he broke whatever this strange thing was and that he's going to just be killed or discarded again. It's what he deserves, but Shigaraki just sighs softly. "Yes, you did. And I hurt you. Now we're not going to hurt each other anymore. We're going to find all of the people who put us in these positions in the first place, and we're going to kill them all. Then they won't be able to hurt anyone else. I can be happy with that revenge if you can, precious. We can stop hurting each other and just be okay like this, baby. Don't you think that sounds better?" 

It sounds too good to be true, the way it had when he was told that he could have a life with his siblings after the war. That had been too good to be true and he still had to suffer every day just to hold onto it. He can't imagine that he can have hot, fresh blood, the pleasure of sex, and the softness that Shigaraki is giving him now without some new way of hurting being laid into his skin. He shakes his head weakly, "You're better without me." He would get so much further if he ran. He's strong, smart, and ruthless. He could make it away from here and be long gone before anyone even knows that he's a threat that they should be looking out for. He would have his hand around AFO's throat before he could even wonder what happened to the pet that Dabi was supposed to show off at the celebration. 

"I probably would be." Shigaraki agrees, which does nothing to soothe the pit in Dabi's gut, not that the wolf should even care about that. "But I'm not without you. We're both right here, and until something about that changes, this is how things are going to work. That's alright, isn't it, firefly?" 

Dabi doesn't think that it should be, but he's too confused, too desperate to cling to the other man whose body is so warm and so gentle in how it curls around his own, that he doesn't want to risk losing it by saying something to the contrary, so he just keeps his mouth shut this time. He presses his ear tighter to Tomura's chest like he can deafen the screams of his past and the doubt that is constantly swirling through his mind. Shigaraki's arms tighten around him and he presses a kiss to the top of his head as he lets him stay in this delusion for a little longer. 

///

Putting on a show for All For One was supposed to be the difficult part of this arrangement, but as Tomura spends more time with Dabi outside of the cell neither of them have been near since his rut ended, Tomura is made painfully cognizant of how completely the experiments on the other children also backfired. Being a lone wolf is not a fun experience. Throughout the first three years of being a wolf, he was constantly aching, constantly looking for someone who believed in him, someone who wanted to be near him and share the burden of existence with him. But he never found that connection and he made sure that he wouldn't allow his mind to latch onto any of the vampires around him, by attacking them or otherwise provoking violence whenever he started to feel any kind of misplaced kinship. He kept his instincts under control and that was the most important thing that he could have done for himself because it means that he can function without a pack at all now. It's a fucking miracle that Dabi has survived for this long as he has. He's practically a fledgling even though he's been like this for at least three years, though he has no idea how old Dabi was when he entered the program and was actually successfully turned. But the man doesn't know how to feed himself, clearly hasn't ever allowed himself to actually eat the amount that he should take, and pours the smell of shame and self-loathing through the room whenever he has a flicker of that untamed hunger or lets himself feel an ounce of pleasure. He's possibly the most pathetic creature that he has ever met in his life. 

And Tomura is bewitched. He can't help loathing himself for it a bit too, but Dabi is so constantly confused, afraid, and desperate that he can't really register him as a potential threat anymore, even though he knows logically that the vampire is. He could kill him and spin some sob story about the whole situation to try and test AFO's mercy, or he could decide two out of three siblings isn't a bad number to be free of him. But he can't make himself actually believe that Dabi would think like that when he clings onto him when they sleep together in the bed, when he smells so guilty whenever Tomura starts to explain to him how he needs to talk and act when he's trying to play a docile pet as they practice for the anniversary party. Never in a million years did he think that he would find himself looking at such a pitiful vampire and not using that advantage to go immediately for his throat, but Dabi is so genuine in how horribly he feels just existing, so clearly only bothers to do so at all because he doesn't think his siblings will survive without him, and thinks they do deserve to live, that it's hard for Tomura to hold onto the same resentment as he did with his other captors. Dabi hasn't ever owned another wolf before. He hates that he sunk this low to even consider it, but it was the last thing he could think of that wasn't draining his siblings or risking their lives by eating the humans he hunted instead of turning them in for his quota. It doesn't make any of it right, but Dabi is the only vampire he currenly has access to who believes that genocide and slavery are wrong, and Tomura will get further with one ally than he will on his own. He is worth the effort of training to be that ally for him, especially if he can gather his own strength and live a life of far more luxury than he's had in years while he does so. 

Tomura also can't deny, though it is still a far smaller element than anything else, that he savors how sexually submissive Dabi is. Any act of subservience immediately tests his already threadbare control and has him squirming like a teenager who is always one stiff breeze from a mess in his pants. Tomura teaches him how to hold the leash so that he will look like he is effortlessly in control, but with enough awareness of where Tomura's body is that someone who knows that he's a dangerous pet will see that Dabi is prepared to get him in line again if he tries to buck that control in the slightest. And being made to pretend to be the one in charge while he's all too aware that Tomura is watching and scrutinizing his every move, arouses him unintentionally during their training. But he is trying to learn, blue eyes follow him all day, they cling onto every word that he says and he sees Dabi trying his best to internalize them. He doesn't even think the vampire is really doing it for his own benefit, he's just trying to make him happy because he's paying attention to him. It's incredibly pathetic and Tomura is extremely frustrated with himself when he finds it so... endearing. 

They only have a month left before the party, and he's been training Dabi for the better part of two weeks now. They always start their day with exercise. There is very little in this upper apartment, just the connected living room and kitchen, their now-shared bedroom, the bathroom, the cell, and the gym that was definitely supposed to be a second bedroom, but just has some scattered equipment and the closet is being used for linens. They work out to keep the natural strength that their unnatural physiques have focused and sharper than a vampire who has languished in inactivity since the war and a wolf who has been caged would be able to claim. Then Dabi always rushes to make him breakfast. He had to tell the other man that he could eat just like a human, he just needs more protein, cooked or not, and Dabi had blushed so badly and apologized, his guilt filling the air again as he realized that he still was acting on the ideas about werewolves he had absorbed from the vampires around him. Since then, he's taken every pain to make large meals for him three times a day. It's more food, better food, than he's been given since he was AFO's student and sometimes it makes Tomura so furious that he wants to throw every plate against the wall and shatter the tables. He wants to throw up sometimes when he remembers the way his own flesh smelled as it was cut from his body and cooked, the chatter of Moonfish's dinner guests all around him as he was consumed as entertainment for a party. But when he stands and leaves the room, going anywhere else so that he can just have a little space, Dabi just puts the food away, preparing it on a plate so that it can be reheated if he decides that he can actually stomach it at some point. 

When he comes back, if he even has to step aside to deal with the mess in his head, Dabi is still waiting for him, eager to do whatever he asks. He tells Dabi what they're going to practice for their training, and then he goes and gets the leash. He teaches Dabi the hand signals that most of the more elite vampires use so that they can give their dogs orders without breaking off from a conversation, and Dabi learns those, but he never seems so at ease as he does when Tomura then lets him get on his knees instead and follow along the commands himself. Tomura didn't think that he could see someone doing those things and feel anything other than disgusted, but the way Dabi looks back up at him like he adores him. Like he trusts him so completely with anything that he would choose to do with his body, gives him a rush of satisfaction that he knows could turn deadly. He has wanted to destroy this world, shatter the system, since he was a child. That desire is only stronger now, even if the world itself is so very different from what it was back then. He could take that adoration that Dabi looks at him with and he could use it to hurt him. He thinks that if he pressed on it hard enough, if he made him so dependent on him and so distracted from anything else, he could convince the vampire to kill his siblings himself, just to keep Tomura's approval. 

He doesn't let himself go down that path. Instead he makes Dabi debase himself, humping pillows, his leg, once just making him sit with his legs spread wide and talking to him, words shifting from insults to praise until his pathetic little puppy couldn't stand it anymore and his cock spilled all over his stomach and stained his shirt without even having to be touched. He makes Dabi find his pleasure again and again until it hurts, but he doesn't rush to join him there. Some days the thought of being touched makes his skin itch the way it did before he turned. Sometimes it makes him feel so violent, so ill, that he thinks that the only way he can be free is clutching his head between both hands and crumbling away into nothing. Some days the idea of being wanted the way that Dabi so clearly wants him makes him chuff and pull him closer, pressing him into the mattress, usually tying his hands in place or pinning him to the bed so he can't get free, and then finding his pleasure in Dabi's body as well. And sometimes it is good. He licks the tears off of Dabi's cheeks and tucks his nose into his neck so he can smell, beneath the smoke, that the vampire is so sure of being safe with him, that he's completely surrendered himself to whatever Tomura decides he deserves. Tomura always gives Dabi more than the vampire thinks he deserves. 

And when they're both clean and cozy again, he brings Dabi's head to his neck, his wrists, or his thighs, and he teaches Dabi how to bite gently, the flash of pain so small that it's hardly noticeable, and then he makes him sip slowly until he's full. It takes two weeks of the treatment every single day, but at the start of the third, when Tomura wakes from sleep, he finds that Dabi's eyes are open, that he's still curled up against his chest, his fingers carefully tracing the scars that have twisted so much of Tomura's skin. Usually Dabi sleeps like he really is a corpse, but vampires don't have to sleep. Dabi was just starving for so long his body kept reverting to old patterns in an effort to make him feel better.

He gets up and when he works out, he needs to up the weight to feel anything at all. He stares into the fridge like he doesn't know what the contents inside are, and then he throws away leftovers, makes a list of things that he needs, places an order, and starts on some kind of dough while they wait for that to get here. He keeps looking to him to see if he's allowed to be doing these things and Tomura just waves him on, watching him. Dabi gets the groceries, and when the delivery comes, the buzz goes through the entire house. There's another short pause and then his sister's voice comes through the intercom, 

"We're all in our rooms and the shades are down." She tells him, but Tomura is the one standing and heading towards the door. 

"I can—" 

"You have a well-trained pet now. To the outside world it's my job to serve my master." He goes towards the locked door to the staircase and waits. He can break the lock, but he wants to see—

Dabi doesn't make any attempt to hide the code as he punches it in, letting him turn the handle and see the far more brightly lit and airy lower floor, even with the sunshades down. Tomura goes and gets the box from a delivery person. A vampire in UV-blocking coveralls who is doing this kind of menial job, likely in service to a sire who doesn't give a shit about having anything other than a little worker bee, still curls his lip in disgust when he sees a wolf answering the door. He is given the bags though and once he's shut and locked the door again, he turns to head back upstairs. 

"Toya—" The woman's voice who he's heard on the intercoms comes closer and he sees her emerge from further down the hall than he's ever ventured. She is probably three years older than Dabi, but he's not sure if she was before he stopped aging. Her hair is white with little red streaks in it and she wears glasses and a modest sweater. "Oh... you must be..." She winces as she considers how she should address someone like him. 

"My name is Tomura Shigaraki." 

"Oh, it's nice to meet you, I'm Fuyumi Todoroki." She tries to give him a smile and Tomura wonders if all of Dabi's siblings but the brother he's briefly seen before so clearly take after their mother, at least in appearance. "Can I— do you know if everything is alright with Toya? This is... longer than he usually goes without coming down to see us." 

Tomura knows that shouldn't make his hackles rise. Dabi is only doing any of this so that his... pack can live. But there is some petty, angry, jealous thing inside of him that snarls at the thought of his ma— He barely escapes closing his hands around the thick paper bags and destroying the contents inside as he stops that train of thought in its place before it can take hold. 

"Dabi has a work commitment later this month." He tells her flatly. "He's been getting ready for that. I'll tell him you were concerned." 

She flinches at his tone and he starts to make his way back up the stairs as quickly as he can without making it look like he's fleeing. "Oh, no— I don't mean— don't distract him—" 

He makes it through the door and lets it shut behind him, hearing the sound of a vacuum going in the living area that was hidden behind the soundproof door a moment before. Tomura takes a deep breath before he even realizes what he's doing, and when he does, he knows that he was trying to take in the tangled smells of them to make his head feel a little less crowded than it does right now. And then he goes into the living room. Dabi doesn't have much to vacuum between here and the bedroom, and as he finishes doing that, Tomura... puts the groceries away. He has avoided doing any acts of service that were not intentional parts of their training or when he was trying to get Dabi to actually be acclimated to being a vampire the way his sire left him to figure out himself. He doesn't want to have to pretend to be smaller the way that he's been forced to for the past six years. But... this doesn't make him feel small as he finishes with that and then goes into the bedroom. The sheets and covers are soaked with the smell of them, which he likes, but it's a sour smell from old cum, sweat, and stray droplets of blood that they haven't bothered to worry about, just shoving the dirty layers to a pile at the foot of the bed and sharing heat between their bodies. He gathers up the layers, separates them so he won't overload the drum, and then takes them to the washer in the gym before he comes back. Dabi is in the kitchen again, heavily salting some pork belly before he puts it in the air fryer and then turns his attention back to the dough to punch it down and give it a few kneads. 

Tomura picks up the laptop that he's been using to get up-to-date on all of the things that have been going on out of his earshot and sight since he's been locked up and he finds out what ecommerce storefronts are still in existence right now as he orders them two new accessories that he thinks will help to make this training more believable. Dabi cooks when there aren't things that need to be left to sit, but over the course of the next hour, he changes out loads of laundry, gets the massive pile of soiled clothes and organizes that into loads as well, washes the kitchen floor, and then dusts the living room. He occasionally pauses in front of Tomura, automatically checking that he doesn't need to rush any faster, that he's not ignoring something that he might want him to be doing while he's putting their space in order, and Tomura keeps waving him off. It's a good thing that Dabi is finally so aware and able to conceptualize how he wants to exist in this space. It means that he's actually starting to come out of survival mode. Which means that Tomura... has actually helped him. He's filled in for a sire and helped Dabi figure out how to exist again. 

He doesn't know if he wants the warmth that tries to bloom in his chest, but he keeps having it create little spikes behind his ribs as he watches Dabi get the apartment in order. By the time he's finished cooking, there is a massive spread of food across the kitchen table. Hot rolls with fresh butter and jam, a frittata that is stuffed with vegetables and crispy, succulent bites of the pork belly, a plate of breakfast sausages, another with homemade hashbrown patties. It's a far more western-style meal than he's ever presented Tomura with before, but he wonders if that's because making traditional Japanese foods are things that he can do on autopilot, but these kinds of recipes are less familiar and need more of his focus than others. Regardless, it's entirely too much food and as Tomura sits to eat what he can, Dabi takes out two large tupperware containers from the cabinets and starts to put the rest away. He doesn't have to eat human food if he doesn't want to, and the only thing that he seems to decide that he wants is a single buttered roll which he eats very slowly as he stares at the big containers of leftovers that he hasn't taken to the fridge yet. 

Tomura waits for him to say something, or to do anything else, as he finishes eating, the late breakfast not only tasting good but... making his wolf quiet and settle for the first time in a while. He has been on edge for so long now. But this kind of... domesticity rings through him as right. Dabi isn't an omega, but there is so much about him that reminds Tomura of one, and seeing his omega no longer so stressed out that he can't think about anything but clinging to him for safety, and instead making their den comfortable, lavishing over the food that he prepares for them, all of that brings his wolf contentment like that of a... pack. He tries to shake it. 

"You should put that away." He instructs gruffly, picking up his plate and not daring to tell the other man how good any of it really was. 

Dabi doesn't say anything for a second, but then he barely says loudly enough for Tomura to hear it. "I... used to cook for my siblings. When we were little. At the start of all of this. I... don't think I have in a long time." Tomura wouldn't be surprised if it's been years since then. Since Dabi's instincts picked up on the fact they could fend for themselves while he was still starving all the time. He's lucky he just withdrew and didn't actually attack any of them. 

"Your sister said that it's been a while since you've gone downstairs." He doesn't interject anything else about that. He knows it's been a while because for the past month, at least, Dabi hadn't been more than a door away from him. 

Dabi looks at him, his expression drawn, his scent sour and guilty again for the first time today, and then his eyes drop back down to his lap. 

Tomura takes a slow breath. There is a part of him, a huge part— the part that he knows that he will feed someday and let it sink its jaws as deeply as it can into the flesh of this world and swallow its beating heart if he can get to it— that just wants to spite Dabi. He is training him and giving him the attention that he never got from a sire simply because it means that Dabi will be a better ally for him in the future. If he can make Dabi useful, then he will have a much better chance of tearing down this world at its foundations and ensuring that his teacher is not going to be able to skitter away like a cockroach again. He doesn't need to be kind to Dabi outside of aftercare and feeding him, because those are the only things a sire would have done. But another part of him... knows that he's not the person that he needs to be punishing. Dabi only ever got to this point because he was starving, desperate, and didn't think he had any other options. He didn't set up this world and hates that he's trapped in it if he wants to keep his siblings alive. He has done his best to keep the suffering that he is responsible for to the absolute smallest fraction that he can. Three people a month for his siblings to live. Feeding once or twice a month before he took over the vampire's meals because he couldn't stand how good it felt getting to eat anything at all. Dabi is the most miserable vampire he has ever met in his life, and he wants to destroy the world for how it's destroyed him and how it keeps finding ways of discarding and using other people in it. He hasn't once tried to slip out from Tomura's control, contain him, or otherwise order him around or hurt him since he broke out of the cell. He always just looks to him to know what he should be doing, what is and isn't okay and he completely trusts Tomura to know what that is because he knows that he is the one who has been hurt far worse than he has through this system.

"...Do you not want to go down and give it to them?" He asks finally. It only takes Dabi a few seconds to shake his head weakly. "Why not?" 

He sees his fingers tighten into fists against his lap, smells the first whiff of blood, and knows that no matter where he thought this conversation might be going, it's definitely taking a direction that is putting Dabi on the verge of tears. "...I'm... mad at them." He doesn't say anything for another second, but that admission seems to break something free in his chest. "It's not their fault—" the sob comes hard and rough, the kind of deep, wracking sobs that Tomura became so familiar with at the very beginning of giving him regular meals as his body flooded him with all the stress that it finally thought it could actually feel without it shutting him down even further and Tomura chuffs at him automatically, moving to pull Dabi off of his chair and into his lap, letting him curl into his side and cling to his shirt as he hides his face against his chest. "I— I could have been done! I could have been free— I didn't care about anything else and then— then—!" 

Then his teacher saw a potentially valuable asset thinking of dying and he brought his mother, who Dabi might have seen, unconsciously, as a potential psuedo-sire because of their familial relationship and he'd killed her right in front of him. He'd made Dabi's mind even more desperate for connection, and then he'd given him three potential fledglings instead and made his new instincts fumble out for reassurance and connection that he would never be able to get with them, linked their lives with his subservience in this system, that he hadn't wanted any stakes in in the first place, and Dabi had been trapped again, had to offer himself to be used up again, and now that he's not in survival mode anymore, he's starting to notice and feel that. He doesn't want to resent them. It's not their fault that they are human, but no one is allowed to make more vampires right now when their population is so skewed and that means the only way for them to live is if Dabi stays serving AFO until they die of natural causes or his former teacher finds an excuse to punish him and take them away instead. It's all horrible, complicated, and there are no good answers for it right now. 

Tomura holds onto him a little tighter, tucks his nose against his throat and breathes in the smell of smoke. That has never been a grounding scent before, but he needs something sharp enough to cut through the mess that his own mind is turning into as he lets Dabi cry in his lap. 

It's complicated and there are no easy answers right now. 

It takes a long time, but eventually Dabi goes quiet and Tomura picks him up and carries him over to the couch, their bed still deconstructed and in the wash. "Sit right here, puppy." He instructs, picking up the collar from the coffee table and putting it on the other man to keep his head where he wants it. "I'm going to go bring that food downstairs and when I come back up, you're going to show me a few of your tricks. Then you can eat, alright, baby?" 

Dabi sniffles, looking up at him like he's the only thing in the world that still makes sense, and gives him a soft yip. Tomura wonders if he's getting better at that from practice or... if it's because he's been listening and learning that from him as well. 

He gets the containers and goes to the stairs, opening the door and going down into the main area. With such an open floorplan, he can immediately see all three of the siblings, Fuyumi, Natsuo, and the third with half-white, half-red hair who looks to be the youngest. The brother he tried to kill looks less than thrilled to see him, but Tomura ignores that and moves to put the containers on the island for them. 

"Dabi cooked." 

"Oh, thank you for bringing this—" 

"Is everything alright?" The youngest sibling asks, his voice more subdued and his mismatched eyes sharper on him as he tries to turn to go back upstairs with as little fanfare as possible. 

"Shigaraki," Fuyumi uses an honorific at the end of his name that Tomura hasn't had used in years and before he can snort at her trying to be polite, even knowing what his actual position in this world is, Natsuo is the one scoffing and rolling his eyes. "Said that Toya has work to do. Please let him know that we miss him and would be happy to see him when he has time. But that we don't want to distract him from his work." 

"'Work'," Natsuo mumbles sarcastically as he turns his attention back to whatever book he was leaning over before he came downstairs. 

Tomura doesn't mean to bare his teeth and growl at him for that comment but the sound gets all of their attention back on him, the three human's heartbeats starting to beat faster, the smell of fear starting to sour the air. But not enough for Natsuo to not make eye-contact with him again and snap back. 

"What? Like we're supposed to buy that going to parties, fucking some stranger, and galavanting all around the country are supposed to qualify as 'work'." 

Tomura doesn't go for his throat, but he does the next best thing., His ears pin back and he lets his fangs lengthen, his eyes glow, and lets the fur of his tail stand on end, a growl in every syllable as he speaks. "In his position, yes. That is the work that he has to do to keep you alive. Be grateful he bothers— a lesser vampire wouldn't have, they would have just let you be slaughtered like your mother." 

He doesn't need to attack any of them physically, those words lash into them well enough and make the younger sibling and Fuyumi flinch back. Natuso Todoroki looks a lot like Endeavor when his face twists from shock back to fury, as he jumps up from the couch like he expects to be able to actually stand up to him. "Fuck you! What else does he have you trained to do besides suck his dick? Are all werewolves this loyal or just the fucking stupid ones who haven't caught on that they're fucking expendable? You're not any better off than us and we didn't ask for Toya to keep us in here like zoo animals for the rest of our lives!" 

Tomura moves quickly, his hand around Natsuo's throat and his breath hot in the other man's face as he barely restrains himself from dropping his fifth finger. "You have no idea what it takes for him to keep you here. But if you don't want this life— if you don't want to live in captivity, then walk out the front door. Then it can be your responsibility if you live or die. Or better yet— if you can't stand being as small and helpless as you feel right now, do Dabi a favor and kill yourself. At least then he'll know he did everything that he could to shoulder the burden you've been on him for the past three years and he won't be left wondering what happened to you when you disappear. Because make no mistake: If he weren't actively trying to keep you alive, you would be dead. If you take a step outside of this house, you will die painfully. You don't have a future or a life that he doesn't sacrifice to bring you. If that's not enough then have the decency to cut him loose and turn yourself into the kind of dead weight that he can actually get rid of." 

Tomura pushes Natsuo away from him, using enough strength that he stumbles and falls against one of the cushions before he turns and heads back upstairs without another word. 

He is still fuming when he makes it back into the living room, but as soon as he steps inside, Dabi yips at him again, perking up and looking at him with those bright blue eyes. Tomura never thought that he would be able to be... tired instead of hateful. His hate, his rage, that's what his teacher used to train his quirk stronger. It's what he's held onto for so long so that he knew that he would be able to destroy this world as soon as he managed to get free. But he can't be angry here anymore. Not with Dabi. He's the only thing that has been giving him even an ounce of contentment because, at least in this part of the house, he doesn't have to be anything that he doesn't want to be. Dabi isn't going to make him. Here he... can just exist. He wants to do that with Dabi for a little while. He wants to rest. He's been fighting every day for six years straight. He's going to be fighting again soon. He has earned the reprieve. 

"Come here, puppy." He sits down on the couch and gathers Dabi into his arms, hugging him to his body with hands that seem too gentle to belong to him. Dabi's brows pull together, but he knows better than to question his instructions when he has the collar on and is playing his puppy. His omega. He doesn't need him to prove his obedience today. He's been doing it readily for the past month. He just wants Dabi to know he's going to keep taking care of him while he can. Until they figure out a way to get his siblings out of Japan and then they can destroy this world. 

He strokes the back of his knuckles over Dabi's cheek. He's never asked him how he got his scars, but Dabi hasn't asked how he got his either. Better like that. He has a feeling that it would dredge up things on both sides that would fracture this fragile thing that Tomura is trying to learn to hold onto without making it crumble. So he just presses a soft kiss to the edge of Dabi's lips instead, "You have lovely eyes." 

They widen when he says that. But Dabi doesn't have a heartbeat, so Tomura can't tell if it does something as cheesy as skip. He just guides him to his throat instead and does feel how Dabi always lets out a soft pant against his skin as his need goes through him. And then his lips press over his pulse in the same kind of soft kiss as Tomura just gave him before he opens his mouth and slips his teeth into his skin, not even a twinge of pain touching his nerves as he starts to suck so gently at his veins. Tomura holds him close the whole time, petting along his spine as he drinks, and when he's finished, he stays holding him for a while longer on the couch before he helps Dabi finish cleaning their space. 

///

When the day of the anniversary comes around Dabi feels... differently than he thought he would. He feels very differently than he ever thought that he could since he was turned. It's hard to put into words, but the world feels sharper now. He's had sharper senses since he turned, but now it feels like his brain is constantly overwhelmed by all of that extra input that he was having to deal with before. He can focus on it, discard what he doesn't need, and it doesn't feel like just existing at times is putting sandpaper against his skin. Not only do his senses clear, but a fog that seemed to have been constantly wrapped around his mind since he killed his father, lifts. He used to wonder how he lost that determination and focus, if it was just because he had completed his purpose and knew that he wasn't ever supposed to live past that, but he doesn't quite think that's the reason behind the sensation anymore. He was hungry, he was without purpose, now Tomura keeps him fed and the only thing he has to work towards is finding a way to get his siblings out of Japan so that they can declare a new war on this world that AFO made. And Tomura. It's hard to try and keep it in his mind that Tomura is just here because this is the best place he could be to start his war. That, if he could choose anywhere else in the world, he probably wouldn't be here. If he could have any other person warming his bed, he would want them instead. That he would probably want an omega who could make him knot outside of his rut the way that Dabi's body can't, even if he's not cold like a regular vampire. He wouldn't have ever chosen to have a vampire at all if he'd gotten his pick of anyone else. But it's so hard to remember that all of the time because Tomura is so sweet to him. He still says nasty things to him, but it's almost always when they're in bed together, when he can see how being talked to makes his cock drip just as much as it does when he tells him how cute he finds it that his prick can spill even without being touched if he just keeps talking. He is always gentle when he pulls him close, never once slipping with his deadly quirk, and he encourages Dabi to drink his fill every day. Dabi doesn't know if he should think it, knows that everything that led them to meeting was horrible, but he is so glad that it was Tomura who he saw first. He had been desperate to get in and out as quickly as possible so he wouldn't have to pretend to be unfazed by what was happening in that building. Tomura was chance, a stroke of divine luck, an impossibility, and yet he's here and Dabi doesn't want anything else in the world but to prove how grateful for that he is. 

"Master?" 

Tomura didn't ask him to call him that, but when he does, when Tomura smells anxious or angry when he's been sitting quietly and staring off into space, instead of startling or growling at him, he usually takes a breath and he's able to settle that smell and turn back to him, calm and ready to decide if he needs Dabi to be a person or a pet. Dabi uses that title for him a lot when they're in bed together, but right now Tomura isn't staring off into space and they're not fucking, so he looks confused when he turns his attention back to him. Most of the wolves that he saw at the last party had been naked, but there will be a televised portion of this event, broadcast so that the rest of the world can see how this new world order has taken shape since they successfully scared away any foreign powers from interfering. Even so, the wolves who won't be there in their full animal garb are expected to wear something to cover their genitals, but nothing else, and the optional examples that had been offered were essentially wraps and loin cloths. They figured they could get away with some dark blue silk pants that match the pocket square that he has tucked into his suit. Silk pants to crawl around on the floor in and ruin. Dabi can't help the bitter flicker of hatred that goes through him at the idea of that opulence and wastefulness.

"Is the cage already uncomfortable, firefly?" Tomura asks, moving into his space. Dabi's face heats with the blood he's stolen from the wolf's veins and he shakes his head weakly. The cock cages, one for each of them, have dual purposes. His is to keep him tight and not embarrassing himself when he still struggles not to find it stupidly arousing to walk Tomura around on a leash when he knows that the wolf can and will pull him down and fuck him hard the second he's finished pretending to play nice. And for Tomura, it will make it look like Dabi isn't interested in sex with his dog. Just because most vampires don't care, doesn't mean that everyone of them wants to do that. He can be the exception if they have to stay for more of the afterparty and Tomura needs to remove his clothes. 

"I... I'm going to make sure this works." He promises. "And I'll be here, I'll do whatever I can to help you get your revenge and fix what I did to make this all happen. I don't care what it takes. I'll hold AFO down in broad daylight if that's what it takes for you to be able to rip his head off his shoulders." He can't tell him the thing that has been lurking around in the back of his mind since it started to clear. He doesn't have any right to put those kinds of feelings on the wolf when the truth of all of this is that Dabi still owns him. Even if he hasn't given Tomura an order that wasn't acting since the end of his rut, there's nowhere else in the world the other man could go that wouldn't risk him being captured and put right back into this situation, or worse. No matter how much power Dabi gives him now, he still doesn't know if he'll ever be able to believe that Tomura would ever choose to be here instead if none of those factors were at play. But they all are, so he can't tell Tomura how there's an ache in his chest that hurts more than the moment his heart stopped beating. He thinks that he might be helplessly in love with him, but those feelings are selfish and covered in thorns so he locks them up behind his ribs and offers Tomura these ones instead. 

He doesn't think he's done a good job of disguising their meaning because Tomura steps into his space. He has custom blue leather gloves on to keep his quirk at bay for the ceremony and he reaches for him, those hands cupping his face, his thumbs running along his cheeks, eyes searching his before he tilts his head and presses their lips together. Dabi stays very, very still. He doesn't even breathe. Tomura hasn't told him much about the places he was before this, but, he suspects through AFO, people have found out that Dabi is Tomura's new owner. And they wanted to tell him horror stories of how the mutt misbehaved all the time. How his second owner had even used his quirk, mind control triggered with a kiss, to keep him docile, but that still hadn't worked. Dabi hadn't ever wondered why Tomura was so reluctant to press their lips together no matter how intimate they became. Even now, he can hear the way that the wolf's heart speeds up with his panic as he tries to do this. Dabi starts to pull away. The entire point of saying anything was so he could find a way to let some of the feelings out, to ensure that Tomura knows why he is doing this, but to do it in a way that wouldn't hurt him. 

Tomura curls his hand around the back of his neck to hold him in place, the barest prickle of his claws against his skin through the leather, and he pulls back a fraction so he can take a slow, deep breath. Then he presses back in. It's not the ghost of contact that he's given him before. This is the kind of hungry, deep kiss that he'd given him only when he had been out of his mind during his rut. He plunges his tongue into Dabi's mouth with no fear of his sharp teeth, holds him tight and angles his head like he can make this kiss so good that it can wipe away the memory of every bad one that he's ever had before it. Dabi doesn't know if he can, but he will be more than happy to be the receptacle for him to try. He kisses back, messy and uncoordinated because Tomura has taught him every way he can make his body feel good with someone else. 

He doesn't need to breathe, so he keeps kissing him, clings to him for as long as he's allowed to, but eventually, Tomura does make him stop, gently guiding him away. He looks him in the eyes again, his own glowing. "We'll get your siblings out, and then we'll burn it all to the ground. People won't be able to tell what is ash or dust by the time we're finished with this world. And when none of that is left— then we can decide what we want to do next." Dabi wonders if anyone else in the world would be able to hear those words and not just think that they mean that they might choose to have a future. Dabi had been planning on dying for his revenge since he woke up. He planned on it again as soon as his siblings were gone. He thought that Tomura might get rid of him at the end of this. Or, he thinks, he had thought that Tomura was too much like him, and he hadn't planned on having an after until just now either. 

"Yes, master," he says softly, still a little breathlessly as his chest tightens further. 

Tomura gives him another kiss. It's softer, chaste again, but not stiff. Just short because they need to go downstairs to wait for the car. 

Dabi straightens his spine the way that Tomura taught him and then picks up the matching leather leash and the chain and leather collar so that he can loop it around his puppy's neck. Tomura lets him and then waits. Dabi gestures so that he will heel, his grip firm on the leash in two places. The werewolf moves into the position, staying on his feet so he doesn't arrive at the event already filthy, and he's the one who says, 

"Good boy," Before they start to head towards the door. 

They make it halfway downstairs before Dabi spots Natsuo, Shoto, and Fuyumi hanging around. The event, of course, is at night, and between the darkness outside and the sun shades being down, it's impossible for anyone to see inside of the building right now. 

"...You look nice, Toya." Shoto is the most understated of his siblings, but to be fair, Dabi doesn't know Shoto at all. They were strangers as children, and in the three and a half years since their reunion, Dabi has barely spoken to him. He always just made sure they didn't need anything for the house before hiding away upstairs again. Natsuo and Fuyumi have always been more vocal with him, but right now his first brother is glaring at Tomura like he can kill him with a look alone, and Fuyumi is radiating the smell of terror and stress as she lightly interposes herself between them as Dabi tries to figure out how his brother went from mortified, which is what Dabi is definitely feeling as he stands here with Shigaraki on a leash after the first time they were all in a room together it was when he and his lover were post-coitus, to clearly pissed. 

Natsuo, though, after a small touch against his arm from Fuyumi lets out a huff of a breath before he turns his attention to him instead. "Thanks for looking after us. Sorry you've got to go to these parties and put on a show or whatever." 

Dabi blinks. His siblings have always seemed... grateful enough, he thinks. Maybe? Maybe he was never looking for ‘grateful’. Maybe he wasn't paying much more attention than simply knowing that they were alive and thinking that that was good enough. He doesn't know quite what to say, but he knows that Tomura is doing a bad job of being an obedient dog when he puts his hand against the small of his back before he starts to guide him forward. 

"Come on, we need to get out to the car." 

Natsuo sneers at him, but Shoto and Fuyumi seem to let go of the breath that their holding and Dabi is spurred into saying something so he doesn't leave his brother's words hanging in the air. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure you don't lose anything else." And because that feels too big, too sincere, he ducks his eyes away from any of them, holds the leash a little tighter and starts to 'lead' Shigaraki out. "We'll be home very late." It's already past eleven, but given how long these broadcasts usually last, he won't be surprised if they're not back until nearly dawn. 

"Good luck." Shoto tells them. 

"Have fun." He wonders if his sister will ever lose her optimism and then considers how horrible that would make her existence and hopes that it never happens. 

The car that arrives is nice with a large back seat and a solid divider between the front and back. They get in and Shigaraki makes a show like he's been trained to assess the comfort of the vehicle and then he closes the divider. Dabi climbs in after him and when they're both settled and the door is shut, the car begins to trundle down the mountain again. He doesn't pull on the leash, but it is nice when Tomura automatically moves closer to him, resettling so that his head is pillowed in Dabi's lap. He is glad that it looks like he's just petting his dog, because getting to run his hand along Tomura's scalp and through the long, soft hair that he always loves to touch, helps to further sooth the anxiety that had been building and building since they woke today. 

///

Dabi remembers vividly why he never went to these parties in the first place. He had to attend the very first one. He barely remembers it, having only just been freshly released from the treatments that forced him to stay alive past the war, and his house still in the middle of construction. He was frantic then because he needed to make modifications because he was supposed to be living there alone, was designing it entirely because they wouldn't let him die, so he thought a big glass house where he could lock the doors and then burn inside would make at least a statement, if not make it more difficult if anyone noticed the fire and came to try to get him out of it. And then AFO had shown him his siblings and he was needing to remodel it so that he could make sure they had their space and he could be hidden away and not have to be surrounded by the memories of his past constantly. He wasn't sure that he would be able to survive that then, and he knows now that it was the right call.

But the party itself has only gotten more lavish and extravagant since the last time he attended. The first time this was only a show of power. AFO made a big thing about teleporting in himself and other 'war heroes', showcasing some of his inner circle and Dabi's contemporaries, showing off that he could get to any country, any government, anyone who decided to make the mistake of opposing his rule in Japan if they ever tried to come for them. It had been an effective scare tactic and no one has, to his knowledge, actually tried to organize an attack. So long as their atrocities stay contained within their borders, other people do not come here and cause issues. 

This ceremony starts with an elaborate parade of some of those same old troops and then, sickeningly, a show of strength in the form of Dr. Ujiko's new werewolf abominations. Werewolves, when they fully transform, are supposed to look like normal wolves, a little larger than them, their coats often reflecting the color of their human form's hair, but normal wolves for the most part. He has done something to them to make them even larger, snarling, hulking bipedal monsters who seem to have no knowledge or awareness in their eyes as they are led down the walkway with meat on a stick that they follow blindly. He holds onto Shigaraki's leash a little tighter, unhappy to be not on center stage this time, but to still have been seated on camera behind it, rather than any of the other less public sections. AFO wants him to be an example of how his new system works and the people who have integrated into it. Of course he can't hide away from sight. 

Shigaraki is seated at his feet, kneeling with his ears perked up, listening to everything, eyes sharp as he takes things around him in as well. He knows that this is the best chance he has to gather information about what troops are still under his former teacher's command and that knowledge will serve them well in planning their war. He doesn't lean his body closer to his, doesn't dare offer him even the acknowledgement that Dabi is starting to smell thinly stressed even though he knows that he needs to hide that. He just sits and observes and Dabi uses the weight of the leash in his hands to ground himself as he does so. 

Once the entrances are finished, the speeches start. The different heads of 'departments' in their new 'government'. It's all a show. Maybe those things exist, maybe AFO is pretending to pass laws to make all of the things that he is doing legal, but there are no courts, no cops, no arbiters of the law in this new Japan. AFO alone decides when and if he thinks someone deserves freedom or death and he sends one of his goons out to see it done. There is no due process in this world, but he supposes providing the illusion that he is creating real systems that work, as he shows a video that highlights the 'progress' that has been made throughout the country in the past three years. He starts with images of the post-apocalyptic wasteland that had been left after the fighting stopped, the slums that wolves and humans tried to hide in to avoid the culling, and when he starts to show glimpses of the new metropolitan areas that have been rebuilt and made to showcase how grand their new system is, it carefully avoids showing that all of those places still exist. He hates seeing it, but after the video and a few more speeches, the broadcast finally ends and they're allowed to leave their seats as a dedicated army of staff start to file in and go about turning the area into a party. Dabi hopes he won't be expected to stay for the entire thing, because he is bored by the first person who comes over to talk to him. 

Too many of the vampires who do over the course of the next hour are just looking to find out what he has been doing in the aftermath of the war. So many of his contemporaries, the other children who were in the hospital with him, have found other ways of using their quirks, or have different assignments. More of them, he finds, are also responsible for looking for any refugees. Quirk breeding has gotten worse among the surviving and hiding humans, a desperation to have a child that has a quirk powerful enough to rival AFO a fringe, but fervent belief that is starting to spread through the survivors. It's all disturbing in its own right, but he makes himself have polite conversation with them, careful as he tries to get whatever information that he can out of them without causing any obvious suspicion as he does his best to make it just seem like he's coming out of his self-imposed isolation a bit more. It's hard to remember to not reach down and pet Tomura whenever he sees one of his ears flick as he tries his best to both listen and to not become visibly perturbed by any of the information that they're hearing. They're going to have to have a long conversation, probably several of them, when they get home, but for now, it's just about keeping up appearances. 

Dabi hopes he doesn't tense too visibly when he sees All For One himself starting to make his way in his direction. Shigaraki starts to growl which startles him and Dabi looks down at him, seeing that his tail is standing on end, his teeth bared, and the tips of his claws are starting to push out and strain the seams of his gloves. He immediately gives his leash a hard tug, panic racing through him. He knows how hard this will be for Tomura, but it's not time yet and he has to behave himself. 

"Bad dog. Heel." 

Tomura growls at him lowly, but then he shifts closer, sitting back on his heels, half behind Dabi's legs. Like he really isn't anything but a sulking dog and Dabi realizes that this must have been a calculated slip, at least to some degree. Even so, it becomes even harder for him to stand up straight and look All For One in the eye knowing how long he'd been planning this coup in the first place and how completely he will destroy someone he promised the world to if they stop functioning the way that he wants them to. 

"I see that you are still working on obedience." All For One says jovially as he stops in front of them. 

"He's been well-behaved so far," Dabi tells him, trying to sound more genuinely perplexed. "He hasn't so much as yipped all night. I don't know why he would get so aggressive out of nowhere." He shouldn't know that AFO was Tomura's teacher, that they have any relationship at all because he shouldn't have ever been treating his pet like he was anything but an animal. Not someone that he would have conversations with. 

"That is strange," AFO is still smiling, the expression so wrong and disjointed from how that emotion is supposed to look on a face that Dabi doesn't know how anyone wouldn't feel like they were in as much danger of becoming the next thing he destroys as Dabi knows he is right now. "But from what I've seen otherwise, you've done an admirable job of taming such a wild beast. I'm surprised you have even let him out of his quirk collar." 

"It was difficult to do, but I keep the gloves on him all of the time unless I want him to use it," They practiced for this. They practiced all of it, and even though most of those sessions ended with Dabi so warm he needed his puppy's attention, none of that is here now. All he is are his fear-bright nerves that tell him if he fucks up here, he will lose everything, he will make Tomura lose everything, and he cannot let that happen. "It's very useful for cleaning up messes, and I've been thinking that it and his nose will have practical applications in the field as well when I go back to hunting." 

The smile on AFO's face widens. "Yes, I imagine it will be so long as you're sure you can keep him in line. I look forward to seeing the nine humans you're able to find to fill your quota and meet your backlog next month, Mr. Todoroki." 

Dabi has been focusing very hard on keeping his poker face up, but those words put a pit in his gut that he can't hide. Nine? He wants to argue, wants to say that the other man told him that he would get a reprieve— but he knows, Tomura had told him again and again, anything he did would never be good enough to get the older vampire to fully leave him alone. He would never be satisfied. He would only make a show of contentment and then move his goal posts to a different spot so that he could be sure that Dabi would always be on the hook for more until he was finally burned out and useless. 

Don't let him see him waver. He adores getting to dole out mercy. Show him that he doesn't need it. "Of course, thank you for allowing me the time to train my new pet into an asset." 

"It was the least I could do after you chose to take on one with such an extensive and difficult pedigree. I hope he can serve you better than his former masters." 

Tomura growls again, a low, soft sound that comes from deep in his chest, though he tries to smother it. If anything AFO just seems more pleased as Dabi snaps at him again, 

"Bad dog!" He hates to do it, but he knows what he has to so they can maintain their appearances. He turns swiftly and slaps Tomura across the face and the wolf yips and quiets. 

"Well you've certainly made significant progress, I look forward to seeing how much more can be done along this path. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Mr. Todoroki, and give my regards to your kin." 

Dabi turns his attention back to AFO giving a short bow, "Of course, thank you for the opportunity to integrate myself more into the world as it is now." 

The monster continues to smile placidly as he goes into the crowd to circle his next victim and Dabi is left with panic still shaky in his gut and his palm stinging as he shifts his grip on Tomura's leash and starts to lead him through the crowd. There are servers walking around and he needs about a dozen drinks. 

///

Tomura has settled at his side again an hour after AFO has left them be and Dabi is just waiting for a few more people to filter out who have decided to leave early. He doesn't want to be the first, or noticeably the second, he just wants his departure to be unworthy of much scrutiny at all. They are off to the edge of the gathering, having found one of the tables that have been set up and taking a seat so that they can wait out the timer. He has mostly just been trying to take in any particular people they could kill to make AFO's infrastructure crumble more quickly, when he spots a vampire with wild brown hair and a fine suit. That isn't the thing that is particularly noticeable. No, it's the fact he has a werewolf on his arm. Not on a leash, not wearing the scraps of clothing that the others are, no collar in sight. He's standing on his own two feet, holding the vampire's arm in a suit of his own, and when people talk to the vampire, he talks back, even when it's clear that it pisses off the people who approach them. Dabi sees that and, as if pulled by a string, starts to stand from the table. Tomura glances up at him, but shifts to crawl with him as he tries to get as close to those two as he can without actively engaging in conversation with either of the strangers yet. 

"—to my mate in that tone again and I will tear your heart out and give it to him as a gift." The vampire smiles as he says it, but the threat of violence in it is more real and genuine than the frighteningly empty smiles of All For One. 

"'Mate'," another vampire sneers back, lip curling over her teeth. "You can't be serious. That's a dog. Good for a flea-ridden romp, and not something that should ever be touted as a partner. Honestly, it's gauche at best. It's disrespectful, even, to have an animal walking around like that when so many wild wolves have been causing issues among the guests here and their assets—" 

The brown-haired vampire makes good on his word. His hand plunges into her chest and he tears out her unbeating heart and he offers it to the wolf beside him. "No thank you. I don't want to get my suit dirty." 

The woman's body drops to the floor, dead until someone puts the heart back into her chest, but not dead in any way that matters to a vampire. People whisper and when a server comes over to start to move the body out of the way, the vampire drops the heart into their hands before taking off his soiled gloves. 

"Make sure she doesn't get that back until my partner and I have gone." 

"Yes, sir." The other server gets another to help with the body and the woman is carried off. The people flocking over to say their piece to the man turn to find other avenues of entertainment, though all of those seem to be whispering and glaring at him as he and his partner go to get drinks of their own. Dabi watches, that ache even sharper in his chest as that vampire presses a kiss to the wolf's cheek, and in return, the wolf catches his chin between his fingers and he pulls the other man into a soft kiss. He doesn't mean to, but he starts to walk. Tomura hesitates, but after a second, he falls in step beside him, and before long, he realizes that he's standing in front of them before they can move elsewhere in the party. 

Dabi's throat is dry, his mind barely stringing together a coherent thought, but he at least can keep his wits about him enough to say, "Isn't that going to cause trouble— the heart, I mean," Before he does anything else that might offend either of the men. They both look to be in their mid-thirties, but that doesn't mean anything for vampires. Unless they're turned after their prime, their bodies often continue to mature out of adolescence and into their peak physical condition before their aging process stops. It will take another few years for him to be certain, but Dabi isn't sure if he's going to ever get any older than he looks right now. 

"Well, if she wants to make it one, then she'll actually have to do something instead of coasting along on her daughter's achievements." The vampire says. "If you mean as far as the law is concerned, I would have to say there are only the ones that apply to the peoples that are meant to be kept," his eyes flick to the leash in Dabi's hands, distaste curling his lip, "Underfoot." 

Dabi hasn't wanted to throw the length of chain and leather to the ground more since he arrived here, but he knows that he can't explain himself without too many other ears hearing him and ruining everything that he and Tomura have been working for over the past few weeks. "That's good. She should have watched her tongue. Your relationship with your... partner? Isn't anyone's business but yours." He doesn't think that the words can sound as genuine as they feel forming in his throat with the presentation that he's had to make of himself for the past few hours, but he tries. "I'm Dabi, this is Tomura Shigaraki." 

He has a feeling that neither of the men actually want to speak to him, but they are polite enough anyway. "Atsuhiro Sako," the vampire, doesn't offer his hand. 

"My name is Noboru Yasutake," the werewolf says and does. Dabi doesn't hesitate to take it. 

"It's nice to meet you." He hopes they can see how much he means it. He hopes they don't think he's insulting him when he asks, "How did you two become mates? Was it before the war?" That's the only way, isn't it? Before AFO solidified his control over the rest of the country and the subjugation of humans and wolves alike? 

"It's been nice to meet you Dabi." Yasutake says, his intonation flat enough to tell him that no matter how genuine, pressing strangers for that kind of information isn't something that he should have done. Dabi feels his face fall, uncertain what the expression across his features even was before, ready to apologize and make his way as far from these two as possible. 

And then Tomura shifts beside him. He presses his weight into his legs, his forehead against his thigh and yips softly. It's automatic for Dabi to reach down to him, his fingers threading through his hair as he sees Tomura look through his fringe, eyes unwavering on Yasutake as it happens. 

The standing wolf lets out a slow huff of breath before he says, "No. We became mates after." 

"If you'll excuse us." Sako manages a slightly more polite tone, but Dabi doesn't dare press further. He doesn't want to piss off two people who could... be allies in the fight that he and Tomura are planning on starting. He just... didn't know that was even a possibility. He never thought AFO would let anyone like them just walk around free. They go to another area of the party and Dabi can't think about socializing further. He just wants to leave. 

"Come on, puppy, let's go home." He mumbles, mostly to himself as they start to make their way from the outdoor venue and towards the carpark for all of the drivers who have been waiting for the party to conclude.

They get into their car and Dabi knows they can't talk until they're safely home, and he hopes that gives him the time to be able to focus on the important things that they learned at this event instead of the thorns in his chest. Tomura makes sure the barrier is up again and waits for them to start to pull away from the venue. 

And then his puppy is dropping to the floor between their bench and the rest of the cabin, the size of it not making this a particularly tight squeeze, but still startling Dabi regardless as his hands go around his thighs and he easily pries them open as Dabi tries not to sputter loudly enough to be heard through the barrier. 

"Wh-! Bad dog, what are you doing?" He asks desperately, his whole body lighting up with his blush as he realizes how the other man is already reaching for his belt to get his pants open. "S-stop that!" 

Tomura's eyes flick up to him, a growl leaving his throat, before he goes right back to what he's doing. There is nothing gentle in the movements, his hand making quick work of his belt and pants before he is lifting him enough to yank down those and his undergarments roughly and leave him exposed, only the cage around his cock stopping him from showing how completely the manhandling has turned his mind from what they'd observed into a soup of hormones as he tries to tug on his puppy's leash, but can't make him stop as he follows the building smell of his arousal to his cock that doesn't so much as twitch in the tight metal. 

"N-naughty dog, don't touch your master there." Dabi feels the heat of his blood unable to go where he wants it, so it circulates through the rest of him, making his head go light and dizzy, especially when his puppy meets his eyes, his red and burning with the same heat that is tearing Dabi apart at the seams. He whimpers softly, unable to make another protest as Tomura noses over his cock, along his balls, his tongue flicking out to tease them, before he hooks one of Dabi's legs over his shoulder. Then his mouth is against his hole instead and Dabi is squeezing the chain of the leash so hard that the links warp beneath his palm. He quickly shoves his other hand into his mouth, the taste of his own blood coating his teeth as they sink into his knuckles to keep the startled, pleasured cry muffled in his throat as Tomura starts to lick against him.

He soaks him. In a matter of minutes, his tongue has laved over every inch of him, swirling around his rim, teasing the muscles open so he can watch Dabi writhe on the seat, the sounds of it happening obscene and so loud, like he doesn't care what rumors the driver might spread about how he's used his pet. No one else would care, he knows, but the thought of anyone else catching wind of how much Dabi likes to be held at his pet's mercy, his tongue fucking his body and the correct speculation of how much he must like it when he gets fucked with other things, fills him with the heady pulse of shame that he didn't know that he could want. He gasps and whines around his knuckles, his body quivering from how quickly Tomura can work him up like this. His tongue presses inside of him, going all the way this time and making his walls spread and Dabi bruises his thighs as they jump against his restraining grip. 

"Puppy!" His hand slips from his mouth because it has to go to Tomura's hair. The leash can't restrain him so he has to stop him some other way before he falls apart completely. But he's not pulling the other man to a stop. He's holding onto him, trying to pull him closer as he wants to get his tongue as deeply inside of him as he can. He knows that it won't stretch him as well as his cock can, but this feels so good too as his wet tongue laves along his walls, curling to rub against his prostate and make his entire body so hot as his pleasure is only allowed to center there and not allowed to even ghost along his prick. Dabi forgets about being quiet at all as Tomura's mouth keeps moving against him, the other man barely taking a second to breathe as he show Dabi how easily he can have him falling apart like this as well, as he makes sure that he knows no matter how he played at being good throughout the party, he's the one in charge and he always will be. Dabi can't imagine ever wanting to wrest that control from his grip, not when giving it up leaves him feeling like this. 

Dabi's pleasure goes higher and higher, Tomura's tongue relentless inside of him until a pressure starts to build across his nerves. It doesn't feel the way an orgasm usually feels, aching from deep inside his body instead of along his cock, but it doesn't matter. It still feels good, and Dabi is desperate to chase it as he starts to rock into the licks, trying to press himself harder against his puppy's wandering tongue each time it moves against that spot inside. Tomura lets him, and the foot against his shoulder is braced there so that the leverage sends Dabi's pleasure into the stars as he feels himself cum. 

This orgasm is so different from ones he's had before, his cock still soft in his cage, his balls still heavy and full, aching from not getting a release too. But the ecstasy that rolls through him goes through his entire body, singing through his over-heated blood, and shaking along his nerves for longer than a normal orgasm would last. By the time this one is finished with him, Dabi feels absolutely ruined, his body slumping weakly into the seat as Tomura kisses and licks along his thighs. He has a scar there. Several, technically, from during his rut. Tomura kept biting his thighs, trying to show Dabi that he was owned by him and not the other way around. He wanted Dabi to know that if he were a wolf, he would have been his bitch. Dabi thinks that since then, he's been a fairly good one, doing whatever his master needs from him, even if he has to pretend to be Dabi's puppy in public. Dabi wonders if, at the end of this, if Tomura would be willing to keep him as a pet, or if he would want an omega in his space instead. He could have a real pack then. 

He is still panting, trembling, against the seat when Tomura shifts between his legs. He reaches up and undoes his collar with one hand, taking the leash off of its hook and then setting the leather aside for the moment. Then he gently coaxes Dabi back up so that he can pull his clothes back into place. His hands move along his arms and he gently takes the leash from the hand still clutching it like a lifeline, and he coils it up neatly before he presses a kiss to Dabi's temple and picks the collar back up. He gets that around Dabi's throat instead and it becomes so easy to melt. His master always knows what's best for him and what he should do. He doesn't have to think about the future right now, they'll figure it out as they start their war, all he has to do is be a good boy for Tomura. 

He yips very softly and Tomura pulls him closer, kissing his temple again as he sits him in his lap. "You just have to wait until we get home, precious." He murmurs, barely loud enough for him to hear. "And then we're going to play with your cute prick until it's all empty. You've earned so many rewards for what a good job you did tonight." Dabi melts completely, losing track of time and his good sense as Tomura keeps him close, keeps stroking his hands along his body, pressing kisses to his cheeks, temples, his lips. He feels spoiled long before the car pulls to a stop and Tomura opens the door and steps out, then leaning back in so that he can pick up Dabi and carry him to the door like he doesn't weigh anything at all. The lights are out, so his siblings must have listened to him and gone to bed, and Dabi is glad because that means they won't see how much of a mess Tomura's affection has already turned him into as he's carried up the stairs. 

His master doesn't pause until he's placing Dabi down on their bed, and as soon as he does that, Dabi is expecting for him to make him hump his pillow or ride one of the toys that he bought him. Usually when he gets a reward, Tomura decides if he feels like that involving him actually being the one to touch him. He's not always up for that, and after what he already did in the car, and the stress from the rest of the day, he wouldn't dare push. 

So he's not expecting it when Tomura growls, his eyes glowing and his teeth snapping into the leather of his gloves so he can tug them off, the first one still on the way to the floor as his freed hand reaches out and grabs Dabi's suit jacket and shirt. He yelps, fear sharp in his veins as he sees his quirk turn the fabric to a fine gray dust before he's reaching for his pants too. In a matter of seconds, Dabi is bare and splayed back on the bed, Tomura's naked body crawling over him as he catches him around the back of the neck again, deadly hand made gentle, and pulls him into another kiss so deep that Dabi is left glad that he doesn't need to breathe. Tomura's other hand goes to their cock cages, not bothering to find the keys in the nightstand when he can just send those into dust as well, and then grinding their hips together so Dabi can feel that he is hardening just as rapidly as he is as their bodies connect. 

Dabi can't help the moan that he lets out, and he doesn't have to. This is their place. The only place that he is allowed to be whatever Tomura wants him to be. "Master," he whines, arms winding around his neck in an effort to keep from scratching open wounds on his back even as he spreads his legs even wider and rocks so that Tomura can feel the spit that has leaked out of him, and everything that hasn't dried from the short rest of the car ride. Does he feel wet like an omega would be? He can't voice the question without revealing how much he wants to be anything that would make Tomura choose to keep him, so he bites back the words. 

He's never just given the other's cock. Tomura likes to play with him, to tease him, to exert his control so that he knows that he is the one in charge and never has to doubt it when the ghosts in his mind come to torment him. But tonight, Tomura doesn't tease him, he just murmurs, "You smell so good, firefly," before his length is pushing inside. 

The spit alone does leave a bit of drag between their bodies, but that heightened sensation only makes Dabi moan louder as he spills more of the smell of his desperation into the air. Tomura licks the sound out from behind his teeth. 

"Such a good boy, puppy." His voice is rough. Tomura always talks to him, but Dabi's head is spinning. The tone in it is so different from what he usually expects out of the other man. "You did such a good job today. Been doing so well for so long now, baby boy." He praises, his hands starting to move over Dabi's body as he kisses down his neck and rocks his hips into him. His length, no matter how many times he gets to take it, always feels so big, stretches him so wide, and Dabi is always left wondering how he ever could have been surviving with just his fingers alone when having something so big and hot pushing him open makes him feel this good. "Always behaving for me, doing your best, being so patient when I can't give you all of my attention. Such a good boy," It's Tomura's breath that hitches even as Dabi gives a weak sob. He never managed to feel so good without crying. He wonders if that's just because he didn't think that good things should happen to him, if his disgust and guilt over the way he'd tried to find them since he was turned have ingrained them into the sensations, or if it's because, while Tomura will give him praise, it's usually saturated with such filthy declarations. It doesn't usually sound so... genuine. Like these words are being pulled out of him with a hook. But his eyes are so genuine and so intense, looking down at him as his cock fucks him in frantic, deep thrusts like he doesn't have the patience to wait for the pleasure to build the way that Dabi is usually begging to rush. "Mine." 

He thinks the vine strangling his heart might shred it, because he feels as paralyzed and stunned as he would if it had been ripped out of his chest or destroyed. He can only hold onto the other man as he leans down and it's him sinking sharp teeth into Dabi's neck. Dabi doesn't remember if his sire did that or if he was turned via a dialysis machine and an IV drip, but his instincts still know this. Not the way that a wolf would know it. A wolf would know this as forever, as I love you, as marriage. It would be something beautiful and complete that would link them together forever and open their minds to one another so that they wouldn't ever be left wondering how they could help each other or how to navigate the landmines that are strewn throughout their lives and pasts. But vampires are different, selfish, parasitic. His immediate reaction is that his fangs also drop, a hiss leaving his throat as he wants to be able to sink his teeth into the other's neck in turn and take as much blood from his veins as possible. 

Tomura doesn't linger, his teeth come away from his skin, his mouth streaked with blood and he says again, "Mine," before he lets Dabi rear up to sink his teeth into his pulse point. His blood gushes over Dabi's tongue, hot with his arousal and Tomura moans as he feels how being allowed to have a meal while they're entwined pushes Dabi's pleasure over the edge. He clenches down around his cock as his prick spills his cum between their bodies, all of his careful training melting away as he takes greedy gulps from Tomura's veins as he clings to him. And the wolf doesn't stop him. He groans, holding onto him tightly, one hand against their headboard that cracks and crumbles as he clutches it too carelessly. As Dabi feels something bigger than his lover's cock starting to spread his rim. Dabi gurgles on the mouthful of blood, the shock of that snapping his mind from its feral feeding frenzy as he pulls his fangs from Tomura's skin and moans as he feels his knot starting to push inside of him. It's so much bigger than he remembered it being before and Tomura mixes the blood on their teeth as he pulls Dabi's mouth back to his so he can kiss him hard as he slams it inside and finds another way of claiming his body as his mate.

///

Tomura thinks that it's past dawn when Dabi's body is too spent to give any more and he has to admit that his own cock is sore too from how many times he managed to knot the vampire even off of his rut. And when he finally starts to draw back, Dabi clings to him, his eyes still glassy, bloody tears sticky all over his cheeks. It's not the first time that he's thought that the other man looked like such a pitiful creature, but the ache that goes through him as he smells the flicker of fear, of doubt, that always comes for the other after he's ever allowed to feel good makes Tomura try to be even softer as he untangles their bodies from each other. He's not leaving, but he doesn't know how to make those words leave his throat. He wants to take care of him and make sure that he stays feeling good after how hard he knows today was. It was hard for both of them, but Tomura knows that he can survive anything if it means that he can be certain he will be the one coming out on top in the end. Dabi, he thinks, might have thought that when he was being trained for the war, but afterward, his survival was only manipulated and desperate. He'll learn again. Tomura will teach him. After they've rested, they'll talk about the things that they've learned and start to look for ways of getting the other Todorokis out of the country. They'll make their plans on how to destroy this disgusting world his teacher made and that will all be hard work, important work, but work that can come tomorrow. 

Right now, he slips out of the bed only so he can get his footing before he picks Dabi up and carries him into the bathroom. Even after all the ways he tangled their bodies together, they both still have the lingering scents of other people on their skin and he wants that gone. He wants to scent mark his mate's skin and know that no one else will be able to taint it. 

A mate. It's something he never even dared to wonder if he would want, just like he made his peace with the fact that he would never have a pack. But he wants Dabi. He wants to know that the vampire belongs to him because it's the only way he would ever be able to stomach giving himself to the other in turn after everything that he has suffered before. A fair trade, equals in it. By laws more immutable than any that his bastard teacher thinks he can enact in this world. A bond that will make Tomura stay, that will let him keep working on what a future could look like if he doesn't just let his quirk eat through them too in his pursuit of destruction. 

He fills the tub and climbs in with Dabi, the other man still dazed, but he knows this. He trusts Tomura's hand, hands that could kill him so easily, to touch him softly, to soothe the hurts that they may have done to one another in their passion, and to make him soft and hold whatever shape Tomura desires for the rest of the night. Dabi has been so... pliant beneath his scorn, his snarling, his demands. He started doing it while he was soaked in the smell of guilt, but it isn't that now. It hasn't been for a long time. No, now, as he turns over his will to become Tomura's entirely, it is devotion, adoration, love that spill from his pours, screaming to be noticed beneath the smell of smoke. He wanted it so much, but he hid it as best he could. Because Dabi wouldn't ever ask for something from him. He wouldn't think that he could do so without it being a demand no matter how many times he tries to give up all of the control he has over him. He wonders if he would have waited until after the war, until after they won, to posit the question. To ask if Tomura would keep him when they're done and he doesn't need him anymore. He doesn't think that a month ago that he would have thought that he needed anyone at all by the time he was free again. But he wants Dabi. He used to be allowed to take whatever he wanted, a selfishness that he now sees his teacher was hoping to indoctrinate into him so that he would be even worse if he'd turned into a vampire. But he will be selfish in one great way one more time. 

"Stay with me." He murmurs against Dabi's temple once he's washed their bodies clean and just pulled the other man closer against him. Just holding him because he never thought he would wrap his arms tenderly around anyone at all, let alone this man when he had met his eyes in that dark, oppressive room. 

"Please?" Dabi's voice is so small when it comes back at him, his eyes not daring to look at his face, but his fingers holding onto him as tightly as he can, like he's scared that Tomura will change his mind. How could he ever when Dabi is willing to burn the world down around them just for a chance to atone for the suffering the first fire he set unwittingly caused? 

Tomura spends another half an hour at least just pressing kisses along his face, stroking his hands over his skin, not trying to work him up, but assuring him that he is right there. That he isn't going anywhere.

And when the water goes cooler, he dries them off, wraps Dabi in a warm towel that smells like them, and then brings him into the living room. He has him sit on the couch as he takes the absolutely ruined sheets from their bed and puts them in the laundry before he goes to make Dabi something to eat. He's already had his blood today, but Tomura needs to give his mate food, especially after he took his knot so many times. It feels like cheating when he comes back over to the couch with the reheated rice and beef that Dabi made for him the day before, but Dabi doesn't protest eating if he gets to do so while curled up in his lap, Tomura unable to stop himself from stroking his hand along Dabi's nearly-dry hair, feeling as his higher body temperature is making the moisture evaporate away from the locks.

Dabi finishes the food and looks back up at him, like he only bothered to do it because he thought it was an order that he was being given and that tightness squeezes Tomura's ribs again. Was there ever a time when he looked at someone so trustingly, with such clear and open devotion and adoration in his eyes, and he wasn't punished for it in some way or another? He doesn't think so. He's not going to hurt Dabi the way he has been.

Tomura presses another kiss to his forehead and then shifts their position on the couch, bringing the throw at the other end of the couch up so that he can wrap it around their bodies and trap Dabi's heat against them. "You've been such a good boy, puppy. Come get cozy, we're going to relax here until the sheets are clean. If you keep being so sweet, maybe we can even make them dirty again later.” They will, there's no doubt about that. Tomura's hands, his mind, his heart feel like they've been starving for every contact that he's ever been denied, and the bite that is already healed against Dabi's throat tells him that he is the only one in the world who can give them all to him. They will have so much hard work to do. Not only out in the world, but right here in this house for as long as they can hold onto it as the fighting starts, if they actually want this to live past their war. Tomura knows that there is more of a mess in his head than there is in Dabi's, especially now that he is transitioning away from needing a sire to teach him how to survive. It will have to be both of them who decide to stay together once they are finished with this fight. 

But in the meantime, he'll savor how long he can hold onto something without it breaking apart beneath his hands. 

///

It's four years of fighting, seven of anarchy, and twelve before some new government starts to be put into place before Dabi has to wonder if there isn't a future for him with Tomura in it anymore. He stopped doubting a long time ago. When they reached the point that they were recruiting people and it was Dabi who was recruiting people to Tomura's cause, when it was Tomura who people started saying would be the best person to lead them, never making mention of him being a wolf even though human refugees and vampires who didn't buy into AFO's vision had joined them. It didn't matter his species. Tomura was the best person for the job. And when they are finally at the point where things are starting to be properly rebuilt, again, it's Tomura who is the person that people say should go from their Grand Commander to their king, he's the only logical choice for the job. It's just that after those words start floating around, others get whispered among the now free werewolves who have joined their cause. Will he take a real mate? An omega? Have pups so that this new country they are having to build from the ground up will be able to have a legacy? 

Dabi smells like doubt for, he thinks, only just a moment as he walks into the room that Tomura is currently using as an office, before he straightens up and turns his attention to him. He growls at him, the sound warning and unflinching, and it makes Dabi straighten his spine. No. He's Tomura's mate. No matter how many people think that they are a bad match, no matter how other werewolves don't believe that Dabi could ever make right what his victory over his father set in motion for AFO. He will work the rest of his immortal life to undo those actions in the eyes of them, but that is not something he is allowed to do here. Not anymore. Not after twelve years of Tomura trying to show him that he is wanted, loved, redeemed to him in as many ways that he has ever been able to offer and that he has worked for since Tomura broke out of the cell he'd kept him in. 

"Shoto wants to come back and help with the rebuilding efforts." He says instead of voicing the flickers of doubts that still come for him, the same way that nightmares still pull his lover from their bed at all hours of the day. They're things that might live inside of them forever, but Dabi hopes that they will find the power to keep them in check someday. 

"Of course he does. And did you tell him that there still won't be any heroes in this new nation we're building?" 

"He didn't even ask about his quirk." One final defeat of AFO. Tomura forced his quirk out of his body and into his own at the very end. It nearly killed them both as the sun engulfed their bodies in flames. But Dabi had been more afraid of losing him than feeling the kiss of fire again and he pulled Tomura out of AFO's grip, his hands the last thing to crumble away where they had been wrapped around Tomura's neck before all traces of the vampire had turned to ash.

Tomura gestures for him to heel, and after another sixteen hour day of making sure that he is doing as much as he can to help to find a way to bring their world to order, Dabi readily moves over to his lover. He kneels down beside his seat and rests his cheek against his knee. "If you want him here, he can come back, firefly." Dabi doesn't technically need permission for that, Shoto doesn't even need his permission to find someone insane enough to bring a boat or plane to Japan and just show up. But his brother asked to be polite, and Dabi asks because he needs to hear his master tell him that he trusts him to make the right choice for himself, even if he doesn't use those words to convey that meaning. 

It does something to him, that same, soft thing that it has for so long now, when Tomura sighs quietly as he starts to pet his hair. A sound that means that he's letting some of the tension leave him, that he is finally willing to let himself take care of his own needs and rest for a while. Something that he only does when he can wrap up those needs in caring for Dabi's as well. 

"Alright, pet. Let's go eat and then we'll see if you've earned any rewards today." 

Dabi nuzzles against his master's palm and gives a soft yip, more than happy to do anything that helps his mate choose to care for himself the same careful way he has chosen to do for him throughout the years. 

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[taintandviolent]

that which terrifies ; Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a housemaid who is sent away by her employer to an estate nestled deep in the Carpathian mountains. On the first night, your dreams become very bizarre, and you are no longer so sure of your purpose at the Castle.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.7K | female reader, smut, period cunnilingus, vampire coercion, invasion of privacy, scent kink, technically dubious consent and somnophilia (cos Orlok likes to touch when reader is sleeping and it gets a little blurred there), blood mention, decay mention, monsters, vampires,, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering), possession kink.

a/n: I feel like I should apologize in advance because this one feels weirder than my last one. again, you either get it you don't. nevertheless, I hope it is as good! thank you for reading if you do!!! MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

With a sharp crack of a whip and a high-pitched whinny, you are alone.

It’s snowing when you arrive. You look back down the pathway, unable to see the carriage any longer; the flurries obscure your vision. The coach that brought you to the looming doors of the entrance is long gone, as is the safety of it. The only sound that can be heard amongst the deafening silence of snow is the fading squeak of hinges and the clip clop of the horses’ hooves as they return home, wherever that may be… far away from this dreadful castle. As you gaze skywards, looking up at the castle, you wrap your shawl around your frail shoulders, shuddering. There is something that roils in your stomach like a malady, twisting and turning your insides until they ache so. Foreboding…

You had been sent here by your employer, a ruthless man who lacked any empathy, only possessed an insatiable greed for fortune. He had requested that you be sent away, to tend to a man who resided deep in the Carpathian Mountains. He had a large estate – a castle in every sense of the word – and needed it maintained. Your darling mother fretted the entire night, feeling as though it was an unwise and dangerous proposition; a young, unmarried woman going into the dark and cursed woods of Transylvania, forced so under the pretenses of mere employment. Though, you had been promised riches. This man, Count Orlok, would reward you handsomely for your duties. Or so it was said. 

At first glance, the looming castle provides no welcome, nor does it beckon you inside. Though, the longer you stare, shivering in the snow like a lost child, the more inviting it becomes. As fearsome and ominous as it is, you know that within those stone walls, lies a comfort, a warmth of some kind. Another person to provide company. 

With footsteps crunching down into the snow, you approach the doors. Your fist raises to the doors, poised to knock as hard as you can to alert the occupant that you’ve arrived. As you do, your knuckles pounding against the wood but once, both the doors swing open slowly, revealing a grand, but barren, courtyard. White blankets everything, obscuring any foliage that might have greeted you.

“Hello?” Your voice is swallowed up by the snow. 

All at once, you hear scampering beside you, accompanied by a huff of breath from something and quickly pivot around, clutching your breast. When you turn back around, you’re met with a startling visual; a tall, intriguing silhouette, stands near another entryway. He’s stock still, the only movement is that of the furs that he wears, which blow delicately in the wind. After a moment, he turns, and disappears into another open door. 

“Sir! Please, I beg of thee, wait for me!” Gripping your satchel in one hand and holding your shawl shut with the other, you hurry behind him, praying to get out of the biting cold. He does not wait for you. 

Once inside, the castle provides little reprieve. It, too, is bitterly cold; the stone walls have absorbed the chill of the winter and seem to radiate out onto anyone who dares pass by, like long fingers, reaching out to pilfer any warmth that passes. 

The staircase is dark, staggeringly so. It curls around a column, trailing ever upwards. He is gone from your line of sight, until you climb the last step, and enter the main room. It is dark, save for a robust fire that consumes the left hand side of the room, drenching it in warmth. Dropping your belongings, you hurry over to it and quickly stretch your palms towards the glow, the heat licking at your frigid fingertips. 

Casting your glance over your shoulder, he stands near the table. You hum quietly to yourself, and turn back to the fire. 

“Count Orlok…” you start, your voice feeble. You stare at him now, desperately trying to discern his features. Though he is unmoving as he watches you, the shadows which dance across his face obscure him. You swallow.  “Pardon my –” 

“Thy lord…!” he bellows, startling you. Despite the volume, his voice was low, deeper than any man’s voice. It was almost a growl, carnal and demanding obedience. You dare not defy him, not when he sounds as such. You furrow your brow to the fire, looking deep into the flames to hide your shame.  

“My lord,” you started again. “I mean not to offend. I was only going to ask you to pardon my urgency in coming to the fire, I fear I may have caught my death had I been out in the storm any longer.” 

“You,” he booms, his voice seeming to vibrate the air around you. He gestures, extending his long fingers towards the table. “...are weak with hunger… eat.” 

You glance apprehensively at the expansive feast behind you; fruits, roasted meats, breads. It was enough to satisfy several men. “Are you not… not joining me, my lord? Surely, this is too great for my appetite.” 

“…I shall sate myself… later….” 

His response serves as nothing but confusion to you, for it is nightfall. Perhaps, you think, you are not accustomed to the habits of the area. You turn your attention back to the table; you are unable to deny the gnawing in your belly, and the enticing aroma of the food calls to your hunger, seducing you with promises of a full stomach, and a delightful, food-induced sleep. You get to your feet and approach one the chair, carefully setting yourself down upon it, smoothing out your petticoats as you do.

Wordlessly, you reach forward, plucking a single piece of fruit from the plate. Its glossy skin glistens underneath the flickering candlelight, and as you bring the succulent fruit to your mouth, its sweet nectar coats your tongue. You hum happily, and savor the taste, rolling it around on your tongue before gnashing it up with your teeth. Next, you reach for the fork that sits at the plate’s edge, and pierce the flesh of a morsel of meat. It’s tender; the prongs of the fork giving way, and the intoxicating aroma of herbs and spices fill your nose. 

Though the food is delicious, it does little to distract you from the fact that you’re being watched. The Count sits across from you, his presence an ominous shadow that threatens to swallow you whole. You chew once, twice, and raise your gaze to his. It’s dark and envelops you like an embrace, one you cannot deny. 

“My lord,” You say, swallowing the remainder of the meat. “Pray tell, who cooked this delicious meal? I was told that you resided here by thineself, hence your need for a ma–.” 

Before you can finish speaking, his words slice through the space between you. “No… more questions. Eat.” 

“I was only –” 

“Hush now. You are too weary to have such… conversations.” 

His words rang true; you were exhausted from the journey and the food was only increasing your fatigue. Now, with a full belly, you felt the first, soothing touches of sleep running its fingers through your tresses, beckoning you closer. You stifle a yawn, not wanting to appear rude in your present company. 

“I long to become familiar with you, my lord. I have many questions… but perhaps, I’ll rest…” You say as you wander over to the fire, longing for its warmth once more. You fold yourself to the floor, resting your arms and head on the seat of the ornate wooden chair that sits in front of it. “If only just for a moment.” 

With the crackle of the fire lulling you away, it isn’t long before the drowsiness takes you, your form drooping slightly in the chair as you nod off. It is not a restful sleep, however; it is a disturbed slumber, filled with bizarre dreams that feel like waking nightmares. 

Shadows claim your body and soul as you sleep, drifting farther and farther away from your consciousness. Slender, phantom fingers graze over your heartbeat, feeling it, tasting it with physical touch, and they graze the fullness of your breasts. Lingering touches chill every inch of your flesh; your neck, between your legs, and along the length of your arms. You dream of being intertwined eternally, though if asked, you couldn’t explain what that meant. Pain, braided with throngs of indescribable pleasure. 

You aren’t sure how long you sleep, but awake when the sun’s rays reach through a nearby window. You stretch your limbs as far as they’ll go, the muscles shaking with exertion. Then, unexpectedly, your palm flattens atop a cotton pillowcase, the tips of your toes feel sheets beneath them. A bed. The fire, you think. I fell asleep at the fire. He must’ve carried you to bed in the night – a thought that, while somewhat comforting in its thoughtfulness, concerns you. You remember not the feelings of him cradling you in his arms, carrying you to bed like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold. You remember not the feelings of being tucked in like a child, delicate and small. But you remember your dreams. 

Pleasures that capture your sleeping body, controlling it so that you thrash and turn on your bed. Long, slender fingers ghosting over your jawline, desperately twitching to pull your mouth into a bruising kiss. The overwhelming scent of Earth, the irony scent of blood, paired with a sickly scent that you can’t place. Stinging pains as the shadow in your room consumes you. Whispers of promises, of ownership, of eternities. Things that you cannot comprehend, but wish to agree to willingly.

Your eyes open fully, having now adjusted to the light. The realization dawns on you; your lewd dreams had been about your new employer, the mysterious man who had only insisted you eat. Knowing not what time it is, you quickly throw the covers from your form, and get to your feet. You’re still clothed, but the buttons on the front of you are peculiarly undone. Your fingers work fastidiously to redo them, before you cross the small room to the door. 

Hurrying down the stairs, you return to the once warm dining room, now flush with sunlight, but still freezing. The fire has burned itself out, and the table remains full of food. The meat has likely spoiled, but the fruit and bread… You eye them both hungrily. 

“My lord?” You call out into the emptiness as your heart pounds in your chest, a staccato rhythm against your ribcage. You wait… but nothing comes, no response, nor sound. Satisfied that you are alone, you rush to the table, hurriedly taking up a piece of bread and some of the fruit. You scarf it down in a very unladylike fashion, but no guilt taints your urgency; you’ll need energy to do your duties. 

As you chew, you decide to meander some, and still, fail to find the Count. Your exploration yields very little aside from the discovery that this castle looks all but abandoned in the daytime. At night, at least there is a fire in the hearth to tell stories of the living craving warmth, but during the day… It is nothing but emptiness. The castle itself is so vast, so decrepit, that you have a hard time navigating it without feeling like you’re running yourself in circles. Most everything looks the same, and frustratingly, most of the doors are locked, try as you may to enter them. How is one intended to clean if they do not have access? 

~

After several hours of cleaning to the best of your ability; sweeping up leaves and dusting away long abandoned cobwebs that hung in the recesses, you pause to wipe your brow, and in doing so, catch a glimpse of the setting sun. Like an overripe fruit, it hangs heavy atop the silhouette of the castle, and disappears, sinking into the horizon as you watch it. Has it been that long? Or had you originally slept much longer than you’d thought? 

Gradually, the castle is submerged in darkness. You hum to yourself, retrieving the rag from the floor and return to the main room. The visual before is laid out as it was the night prior and you are equally as perplexed. 

The fire roars once again, and the Count, with his tall, menacing silhouette, stands in front of it. As soon as your foot hits the last step, he turns, gripping his fur coat at the side. His fingers seem to go on forever, only lengthened by his sharp, pointed nails. You bring your hands to your lap, shifting nervously.

“You have been hard at work, I see…” 

“I… yes, my lord. Though, most of the rooms are locked. Might I have access –” 

“No.” He says lowly, curtly. There is an unsaid warning, discouraging any persistence.

“My lord…” You quiver, fighting against your own nerves. “Might I ask… what is my purpose here then? If not to clean thy castle… why for?”

He is suddenly beside you, his tall frame dwarfing yours. “You will… provide me… company.” 

Your heart squeezes within your chest, tight, as though his hand had reached through your skin and gripped it with all his might. The rag drops from your grasp, falling to the stone floor silently.

“I’m afraid I don’t… I don’t understand.” 

But you do. You understand that you were sent here under a falsehood, an arrangement disguised as employment. As you recollect, the terms in which you were sent away were very sudden, very demanding and very specific – he had requested a young unmarried woman. You thought it to avoid any incessant mail, perhaps, but realize, the reason is far more personal. 

“Fret not,” he says, his fingers reaching up to brush across the warmth of your cheek. They are cold to the touch, frigid even, and you shudder underneath the gesture. His dark eyes suddenly seem to widen, his nostrils flaring. As he inhales sharply, he dips closer to you, his claws reaching towards your clothed hips. 

All at once, his long arms wrap around you, seizing you, pulling you into a desperate, hunger-driven embrace. He tastes your flesh, licking from the nape of your neck to the hollow between your full breasts. It is not tender, nor is it heartfelt. It is insatiable, it is dark, yet… your supple frame melts into his grip, allowing him to support your wilting body in his grasp. 

You feel the edge of his nails gently caress your body, fingers wrapping around the flesh of your arm with their length. Your lids flutter as his mouth nears your ear, his labored breathing hissing into the tight space between the two of you.

Deep between your legs, an incessant want pools. It is hot, greedy, and coils in your stomach like a venomous serpent. Your lids grow heavy with need. Above you, Orlok nears ever closer, dipping down until the bridge of his nose presses into your sternum. He inhales deeply, as though inhaling your very essence. He makes a sound akin to the low, warning growl of a wolf, though it’s tinged with something far more satisfied.

“That which terrifies you….” his full-bodied voice snarls above you, consuming you. “....pleases you.” 

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s just done, what provoked such a bold claim from his lips. He had smelled your blossoming state, your throbbing arousal and inhaled deep into the confines of his very lungs. No man has ever done such a thing, and the thought leaves you reeling, shuddering in his grip. Because, you know… he is no man. 

“My lord,” you whisper. “I… I…” 

“Speak,” he urges, his voice thickened with lust, with hunger. You can feel his breath upon your breast, upon the exposed column of your neck. He nears closer. 

“I cannot! My words fail me, my lord… I know not what I speak of… what I feel deep within my chest.” 

He growls, considering that for a brief moment, before speaking again. “Your body speaks loud enough.”                                                                                                              

With your breath catching in your mouth, you quickly utter your next words. “I think I may retire… early this evening, my lord. I feel faint.” 

“If you are… unwell, it would be in your best interest to do so.” His words are strung together so laboriously, punctuated by wheezing breaths and his heavy accent. You swallow again, looking up into his unimaginably dark eyes. There is a hunger there, a flash of something that frightens, but moreso, arouses you, and you gasp, turning quickly on your heels, heading back up the nearby steps. “I bid thee goodnight!”  

You run down the corridors as though he is pursuing you. Hunting you. And as soon as you are in the safety of the room that he once carried you into, you shut the door, collapsing against the back of it. You pant, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but you cannot ignore the clawing lust that you feel.

You dress yourself in your nightgown, and quickly get into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin as though that is some ward, some protection from the shadows which plague you. As before, it is not long before the warmth carries you off to sleep, the comfort of the bed acting as a tranquilizer for your nerves.

The dreams come again, wrapping themselves around your body and cradling you in their enticing embrace. They are heavy, like the weight of a lover atop of you, and they ghost along your legs, trailing along the curve of your thigh. You whimper, taking fistfuls of the sheets.

“I beg of thee… please…” you murmur, sleepily. Still, it is a call, a beckoning, and the shadow in your dream heeds it. Immediately. 

You shift, kicking your legs and thrashing your head to the side, whimpering pitiably in your slumber. The sheets are cold and seem to cling to your thighs, bringing you no comfort and do not free themselves when you move your legs. There is a pressure, a pulling deep between your legs. You whine again, bucking your hips. Against something.

Your eyes snap open, your body jerking with unimaginable arousal. The first thing you see is the ceiling, decorated with shadows and uncertainty. The second thing is that your nightgown is pushed up to your waist, exposing your lower half to the chill of the room. The third, and perhaps the most startling, is that Count Orlok is nestled between your thighs, his lengthy fingers gripping your hips tightly, not fazed by the rocking of them as you feel, feel deeply, what he is doing. He pulls you closer, and you immediately feel his cool tongue as it laps at your center. He swallows loudly, wetly, and you immediately smell the harsh, irony scent of blood. As he gulps, you feel an ungodly pulling sensation, as though the essence is being drained from between your legs.

Realizing, you yelp and push your hips into the mattress, pulling his mouth from your cunt with a slick sound. His mouth chases you, but in the second in which the moonlight hits his angular face, you see that the lower half is coated in blood. You wince, and tighten your grip on the sheets. You had heard stories as a child of a mystical, monstrous creature… strigoi, nosferatu, vampyres… many names for one being you’d never thought you’d meet. And certainly not in this way. But you realize, as his mouth hovers over your core, his cool, wheezing breath washing over you, you do not want him to stop. The nerves, the anxiety, it had all been because his aura had captivated you, called out to you like a beacon in the storm. 

“Give thyself to me…”

You nod once, unable to hide your true nature. Your hand drifts to his bare, decaying shoulder, urging him back between your legs. Orlok’s tongue snakes out once again, delving deep into your entrance and lapping up the viscous fluid that leaks from it. You nestle back against the pillow, allowing yourself to feel everything, to drown in the sensations. It is unclean, monstrous but you cannot contain your cries, the lascivious sound echoing off the stone walls. Your hips continue bucking into his mouth, your hand gripping his aged flesh with all the power you have left.

He laps at your cunt, starved for the sanguine nectar mixed with your sweet arousal, and your body quivers and shudders with each pass of his tongue. You feel the sharp points of his fangs grazing your swollen clit, a teasing, dangerous feeling. You dig your nails into his cool flesh, pulling him closer still and you feel that serpent return, coiling around itself until it threatens to burst. 

“Pl-please… my lord…! I’m… I feel as though I might…!” But he does not relinquish his feasting, nor does he slow. 

Your body seizes up, muscles spasming as your back arches desperately, the fire of your orgasm reaches a peak, crashing over you like waves on a shore. Your hips buck violently up into his greedy, hungering mouth, crying out. 

Finally, as the pulsing subsides betwixt your thighs, he is above you, lowering himself down upon your breast. His lithe fingers spread apart the pieces of your nightgown, exposing your skin to his waiting mouth. A white, hot lance of pain erupts over your sternum as his teeth puncture the waiting flesh there, the ache sprawling its stinging tendrils down the length of your arms and to your fingertips.

You gasp, your pupils dilating. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and you know, unlike anything you’ll ever experience again – a feeling, a craving that only he can sate. The room is filled with your weakening moans and the slick, gulping sound of Orlok as he drinks from you. Your menstruations were not enough, and yet, neither was a singular orgasm. Your hips writhe with a desperate plea, though he is too far buried between your breasts. 

A dark cloudiness rings the edge of your vision. No… not sleep. Not now…. I beg of thee…

The world fades from your grasp, like water through thine fingers, the only sensation is that of your skin chilling, paling as he drinks your sweet, warm blood. 

“M-my lord…”

[kairoot]

TEETH ⌇ SJY

SINK MY TEETH IN YA— jake has been hiding a huge secret from you—he’s a vampire. after going six months without feeding, his control is slipping, especially when he's around you, sensing your blood. when you notice his strange behavior and confront him, he brushes it off. but soon, he can’t hide it anymore and reveals the truth, expecting you to be scared. instead, he’s shocked when you offer to let him feed from you.

𝓅𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 vamp!jake x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 esatablished relationship , thriller (?) , suggestive 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 biting.. (jake is a vamp hello…), kissing, physical touch, etc. — ℳ𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴：layout insp by sav bb 🤍. please reblog and/or leave feedback. it is greatly appreciated !— 𝐌𝐒𝐅.

“you ready, babe?” jake asked, walking in the bedroom while still running a comb through his gelled hair.

you adjusted the necklace in the mirror, moving it around to your liking.

“almost.”

jake chuckled to himself, knowing it always took you a while to get yourself dolled up and you’d stand in the mirror until you actually liked what you were wearing.

“you look fine, baby.” he appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

you sighed, not believing him but prepared to leave anyway. you both decided to attend the town’s halloween party tonight (you begged jake to go), seeing as you don’t really go out as much as you used to. when you and jake started dating, you both attended nearly every gathering there was. but jake had suddenly become uninterested in going out.

you wondered why, seeing as he always seemed like a people person to you but after some thought, you figured he just wanted to stay in and enjoy each other in private. you didn’t mind it, but a part of you missed the lively atmosphere.

jake still clung to you, placing his face in the crook of your neck.

“what perfume are you wearing tonight? smells so good..” he mumbled, almost slurring, taking in whatever scent it was. the smell was so intoxicating, he almost felt faint.

“i didn’t put any on yet,” you giggled, not noticing his grip on you tighten and the slight tension in his body.

now jake was confused. if you didn’t have any perfume on, why was your scent so strong? it seemed irresistible.

but once he thought about it, the answer popped in his head. before he could pull away, a searing pain shot through the front of his mouth, causing his hand to fly up to hold it.

you turned around when you heard him let out a painful groan, placing a hand on his jaw, giving him a concerned look.

“is everything okay?” you questioned, waiting for him to answer as his face contorted in discomfort.

jake had realized that it’s been nearly 6 months since he had a taste of the red liquid that kept him alive. he had been feasting as if he were human and could live off of normal meals. but he should have known that wasn’t the case. he thought he could handle it— pretend to be human. but now his control was slipping.

jake swallowed hard, stepping back from your touch. “i’m fine.” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. he took another step back from you, sitting on the edge of your bed.

you could sense that something was wrong, a strange tension in the air. “jake.. what’s going on?”

he exhaled shakily, his facade crumbling. he didn’t want to tell you, but he knew he couldn’t keep this hidden much longer. not with the way your scent was overwhelming him, making his throat burn with need.

his hands rested beside him as he gripped the bedding, trying to calm himself down. he avoided any eye contact with you, scared that he’d immediately lose all self-control.

“baby, we don’t have go this party if you’re not feeling well—“

jake shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t really reach his eyes, “no, i’m fine. i promised you we’d go.”

you hesitated, not at all convinced by his words. his body had relaxed a bit more but you could tell he was holding back on something, “are you sure, jake?”

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i’ll be okay, babe, honestly. i just need a distraction.” he finally looked at you, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “you’ve been looking forward to this. don’t let me ruin it for you.”

you smiled softly, walking toward him to hold brush your hand against his cheek. “alright.. but i’m driving,” you said, grabbing the car keys from the dresser. “i’m not letting you behind the wheel when you look like you’re about to faint.”

jake chuckled slightly, but there was no argument. he followed you out of the bedroom, the tension between you both still lingering. you hoped the party would actually distract him, seeing as you had a feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling you.

as you made your way to the car, you glanced at him, seeing the way his jaw clenched. he seemed so distant and you couldn’t help but worry about what the night would bring.

you both arrived at the party’s venue— a large but old mansion decked out with eerie decorations. pumpkins were scattered across the yard while cobwebs covered the corners of the porch. the sound of laughter and music was heard from the open doors of the house.

you turned the car off, sitting there for a moment before getting out. you wanted to ask jake what was really on his mind or what was bothering him.

“baby,” you called for him but no answer. he was distracted and looking at whatever was going on outside the passenger window.

“jaeyun.” your hand touched his arm this time, catching his attention. he hummed in response, turning his head to face forward now.

you shuffled closer to him, your chest pressed against the side of him.

“you know you can talk to me right?”

instead of answering, he sighed, lowering his head. if you kept asking about what was bothering him, he’d have no choice but to tell you. he hated keeping things from you especially because he knew you only wanted him to feel better and you wanted the best for him.

you leaned in to press soft kisses along his jaw, making him exhale softly. your hand made its way to his chin, turning his head so he was facing you.

you pecked his lips a couple of times before pulling away slightly to look him the eyes. they seemed darker tonight, the usual spark in them looked like it had disappeared.

"jaeyun, i mean it," you whispered against his skin. "if you're not feeling up to this, we don't have to go in. we can just head home, or even sit here for a while. i just want you to be okay."

jake closed his eyes briefly, his hand slipping down to rest on your thigh. his grip was firmer than usual, as if grounding himself with your touch. he wanted to tell you, wanted to explain the storm that was building inside him-but the words wouldn't come. not yet.

"i'm fine, really," he finally said, though even you could hear the strain in his voice.

"alright," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

"but if at any point you're feeling worse, we'll leave, okay?"

jake nodded, though you noticed the way his fingers twitched against your leg.

with that, you both stepped out of the car. the cool night air hit you immediately, the atmosphere of the party drawing you in as you made your way toward the mansion. you could hear the music more clearly now, and the sounds of people laughing and talking grew louder with every step. the porch creaked slightly underfoot as you climbed the stairs, and the glow of jack-o'-lanterns flickered in the dim light, casting long shadows across the yard.

jake walked beside you, quieter than usual. you glanced at him, still feeling that nagging worry tugging at your chest, but you didn't press him any further. not yet.

“hey, you made it!” one of your friends called out from the entrance, waving excitedly as you and jake made your way inside. you returned the wave, feeling a little lighter now that you were here.

the inside of the mansion was just as lively. the grand ballroom was filled with people dancing, their costumes a blur of color under the dim, spooky lighting. fake bats and skeletons hung from the chandeliers, and fog machines pumped mist across the floor, creating an eerie, dreamlike atmosphere.

you turned to jake, who was scanning the room, his eyes darting from person to person. you noticed the way his jaw clenched again, the same tension from earlier creeping back into his posture.

“you okay?” you asked, touching his arm.

“yeah, just… a lot of people,” he muttered, his voice tight.

you frowned, your concern growing. he usually loved being around crowds, but tonight, he seemed different—on edge.

“why don’t we grab a drink?” you suggested, hoping to distract him. “maybe that’ll help.”

jake hesitated, his eyes still fixed on the crowd, but eventually nodded. “yeah. sure.”

you led the way to the drink table, but as you walked through the sea of partygoers, you noticed the way he kept glancing around, making you think he was looking for something—or someone.

you both made your way through the crowd after getting drinks, but something about jake’s energy felt off. he was quieter than usual, not fully engaging with anyone who greeted him, his hand gripping yours just a little too tightly. every so often, you caught him looking around, almost like he was on edge, but when you asked him if everything was okay, he brushed it off with a forced smile.

“i’m fine, i’m okay” he would say, but you weren’t convinced.

the party went on for a while, but jake grew more distant with every passing minute. eventually, you both decided to leave early, the fun of the night overshadowed by jake’s strange behavior. he seemed relieved as you left the venue, though the tension between you still lingered.

when you arrived home, the atmosphere had shifted again. jake seemed distracted, his body tense as if he was trying to hold something back. you went into the kitchen to grab a snack, thinking over the night’s events.

as you were cutting up your fruit for a late snack, a sharp pain ran across your finger as you sliced it while using the kitchen knife. you hissed, dropping the knife as you instinctively pressed your other hand to the cut.

“damnit,” you muttered, holding your hand under the sink to clean it. as you did, you noticed jake’s sudden stillness. he hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway, his eyes locked on your hand.

his gaze was fixated on the small trail of blood now dripping from your hand, his breathing heavier than before.

“it’s just a cut,” you said softly, noticing the strange look in his eyes. but as you stepped toward him, his expression darkened, a hunger creeping into his features that made your heart skip a beat.

“you should… get that cleaned up,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “i’ll get the bandages.” he said, but his eyes never left your finger.

but before you could move, jake was suddenly closer to you, his body tense and his breathing ragged as if he was fighting against something. you could feel the heat of his presence, the way his eyes darkened as he watched the blood still pooling at your fingertip.

“jake, what’s really going on?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. “you’ve been acting strange all night..”

he hesitated, his jaw clenched, but you could see the struggle in his eyes.

he wanted to pull away, but he leaned in instead, his nose brushing against your skin as he inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut. “your blood.. the smell is driving me insane.”

your breath caught in your throat. “..what does that mean?”

he swallowed hard, his eyes dark and filled with a hunger you’d never seen before. “i haven’t fed in months, y/n,” he confessed, his voice raw. “i tried to stay away from it, i swear.“

you stared at him, the weight of his confession settling over you like a heavy fog. “you… you’re a—?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, but jake’s pained expression told you everything you needed to know.

he nodded slowly, stepping back as if ashamed. “i didn’t want you to find out like this. i’m so sorry.”

you were quiet for a moment, processing everything. then, despite the fear and the shock coursing through you, you made a decision. “then take it.”

jake’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “w-what?”

“my blood,” you said, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “if you need it, then take it. i trust you.”

jake shook his head. “baby, you know i can’t do that. i don’t wanna hurt you..”

“you won’t,” you whispered, moving back until you were pressed against the door, his body hovering over yours. “i know you won’t. i trust you, jake.”

his eyes searched yours, desperate and conflicted, but the hunger was too strong to resist. with a shuddering breath, he leaned in, his hands holding the sides of your neck as his lips brushed against the skin.. “tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

you shook your head, breath shuttering as you tilted your head back. his arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer.

“bite me,” you whispered once more, your hands gripping his shoulders as you waited to feel that small pinch.

jake’s fangs elongated as he wasted no time sinking his teeth in you. you gasped softly, the feeling being a mix a pain and ecstasy.

a deep groan of relief escapes his lips, the satisfaction of finally feeding without blood overwhelming him. his grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, nearly losing control (again).

jake pulled away before he could drink any more, his lips tinted red before his tongue darted out to clean it up. he pecked the bite mark, hoping it would soon feel better.

you clung to him, almost hypnotized by the feeling of his teeth against your skin. he looked in your eyes, chuckling at the dazed look you gave him.

“you okay, princess?” he asks as his hand brushed away the strands of your hair.

you nodded, way too distracted to even give him a verbal response.

“c-can you do that again?”

🖇️. @wonsdoll @mimismenu @yourssincerely-mimi @riribelle @nerdimoo @sngleehee @elysianiki — only accepting 40 people.

🝮. @k-films

[nothanksofficer]

we are all sinners (imagine)

starring: you, remmick, and bo pairing: remmick/reader & bo/reader warnings: slight nsfw, open-at-your-own-risk, dark romance, vampirism, corruption, moral and literal seduction, temptation, sharing is caring(?), reverse harem(ish), hive-mind, manipulation summary: in this world, there is no grace chow. only y/n chow. and boy, does that have consequences word count: 1k+ oneshot ver: 1.0

"because i know everything he knows now. and i want you to let us in there."

"Oh yeah, i know everything now. Even how you like to be licked. I can promise I won't bite too hard."

a/n: pls be kind. this was just a random idea. note that most of the lines are just what i vaguely remember/can find on the original script. for the most part, reader's race is up to your interpretation. bolded lines can be interpreted into any language you want

you are a budding artist who made a name for herself after becoming the town's unofficial sign maker/painter. colors were your art, and its not just how you earned your keep, but it's also how you met bo.

you and bo have been married for almost two years now (sorry lisa don't exist here...yet).

so when smoke comes in one day, asking for some supplies, help, and a new sign in need of painting, that's where you come in

you don't know the twins personally, but you trust bo. and the extra money doesn't hurt for your...future family planning

at the juke club, you and bo are a seamless team, alternating between working and partying. every time you walk by, he's always trying to pull you into his arms. Whether it's for a quick kiss or dance, he never passes on the chance

you briefly overhear the commotion at the door, followed by some singing. after getting a quick peek at the white folk, your eyes meet the banjo player's, who then gives you a wink as bo leads you away. neither of you notice remmick's eyes following you as he does

Remmick first motions at Mary. "How'd she get in?" "She here because she's family." Unconvinced, Remmick makes a show of looking at you and Bo next. "And those two?" This time, it's Smoke who answers. "They're family, too."

later on, when bo comes running over to tell you stack's been killed, you immediately want to leave. you get a really bad feeling and your gut tells you that you can't stay here. after some desperate convincing, bo agrees to get the car

"You wait right here, baby. I'll be right back before you know it," he promises, giving your forehead a kiss. Little do you know, that is the last time you will see your husband. At least the human version of him.

cornbread happens. and stack comes back to life. the entire group has to stop you from leaving to go find bo

"Let me go! I need to go after Bo!" "Careful now. You walk out there, Y/N, you might not walk back in." "I can't just sit here and do nothing! My husband is outside with those—those things!" But Smoke puts his foot down, stopping your argument in its tracks. "Bo can handle himself, Y/N. Besides, you know he wouldn't want to put you at risk either. Bo'd want you here. Inside. Where it's safe."

the group finds the 'dead' body. when sammie and smoke go to throw it outside, remmick's singing and the cheering of former friends and guests, lure you to the entrance, just enough to take a peek. (to your relief, you don't see bo anywhere near them)

after the garlic eating scene, you are left on watch duty at the main entrance. everyone else is resting, or preparing more weapons in the back. you hear gurgling form outside, and out of curiosity, you open the door, only to see cornbread tearing into the 'not-dead' body outside.

you nearly scream to warn the others. that is, until bo appears.

your first instinct is to pull him inside into safety. but...the way he swaggers past cornbread, smiling at you like nothing was wrong, made your heart stop (and not in a good way)

"Hey, baby," he grins, and for a moment, you can almost believe it's actually your husband. Keyword being, almost. "Come on outside. I got the car started for you. Let's go!" "Bo...?" The sound of flesh tearing and squelching makes you nauseous, and you take a step back. Bo frowns, but masks it with a charming smile. "What is it, Y/N?" "Cornbread...he's killing him—" "Oh, don't worry about him, baby. He's just a little hungry, is all," he says offhandedly. "Let's go." Bo winks at you, and you flinch. He's never winked like that at you before. The only one who ever has was— "Come on. I got the car all warmed up." But when you don't make a move to follow, he sighs before sauntering up to the door with a knowing look on his face. "Or...you let me back in there, and we can grab our things and head home?" Bo's eyes flash an inhuman silver as he looms over you from the doorframe. "We can even make a pit stop. Maybe even have some of our own fun on the way back."

when Remmick appears, you nearly sob, realizing this isn't your husband anymore

Still, Bo tries to convince you, nonetheless. "It's better this way, baby. So why don't you go and invite us in?" "You should listen to him, Y/N. Or listen to me. Because I know everything he knows now. And trust me, darling, he really wants you to let us in there," Remmick adds. "That's not true. Bo would never..." "Believe me, baby. I just want you to be free. Like him. Like me," Bo says almost reverently. Lovingly. As if the prospect of becoming one of them was a blessing, rather than a curse. "We can be together again. All you have to do is...Let. Us. In." "Listen to your husband now, darling. Can't you see that he—that we—just want what's best for you?" Despite Remmick's words, you can't tear your eyes away from Bo. "You're not...you're not my husband." Despite the cloudy glow in Bo's eyes, there is no hiding the hurt in them. Remmick, however, only looks at you with condescending disappointment. "Well, that's not very nice of you to say," he tsks. "You did this to him. You...you monster," you hiss. "Me? I just gave him what he wanted. Freedom. A family. In fact, this was his idea, you know. He wanted to change you first," Remmick reveals with a hungry grin. "And who am I to deny him?" "You're lying." "Am I? I know everything he knows. Every little thought. Every single memory. I even know how you like to be licked, darling." Remmick's words shake you. But it's Bo's follow-up that makes you choke. "And we promise we won't bite, baby. Not unless you want it."

a/n: and that's all i have for now. let me know if this is worth continuing. otherwise hope u enjoyed the story

[moonhoures]

Insatiable

🕷️ kinktober — day 4: biting kink (& blood play)🕸️

pairing: sunghoon (enhypen) + reader (afab/fem)

genre: non-idol!au, vampire!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, vampire bf!hoon, human!reader, tw! mention of blood, biting, blood drinking, oral (fem. receiving), cum eating, overstimulation (kind of, i guess?),

word count: ~2.1k

synopsis: your vampire bf suddenly becomes clingy which can only mean he’s hungry or horny . . . or both

a/n: where’s all my vampire!au lovers?!?!?!?!!?! 🧛🏻

posted: october 4, 2023

kinktober masterlist

You should’ve seen it coming when Sunghoon had stayed with you in the bed until you got up this morning. Usually, he would be up busying himself with something by the time you woke up. You should’ve seen it coming when he somehow found a reason to be in every room you were in at any given time. You were in the bedroom folding laundry? He was digging through his clothes to find ‘that one shirt he thought he lost’. You were in the living room watching TV? Suddenly he was interested in it too—though he had complained to you multiple times he didn’t like the shows you liked. You were in the bathroom? He was knocking on the door asking how long you would be because he needed to brush his teeth.

You should have confronted him during one of those instances, but you finally snapped in the kitchen. You were in the middle of making yourself a sandwich for lunch when you felt Sunghoon’s presence lingering behind you. He wasn’t touching you or hovering, but you could still feel him, mostly his gaze. It felt like he was your own shadow, following you around incessantly. The jelly-coated knife in your hand clattered onto the counter as you let out an annoyed groan.

“What’s your problem? You’ve been all over me all morning.”

“I can’t just be close to my girlfriend?” he asked, a dumb smile on his face. But you could tell there was something sinister about that smile; he had ulterior motives that he wasn’t going to give up so quickly.

“Suddenly, like this? No,” you leaned back against the counter, but there was still not even a foot of distance between you two, “So what do you want? Are you horny? Hungry? What is it?”

If he could blush, he would be doing so in that moment. His smile turned sheepish, embarrassed that you had caught on so fast. He didn’t mean to be so clingy, but he couldn’t help it. He woke up with his stomach feeling empty and his gums aching. His cock had also been basically rock hard when he woke up. His body was essentially begging him to eat and get laid, and soon. But he knew how tired you had been lately with work, so he let you sleep in. And you seemed grumpy after you woke, so he let you go about your day without bothering you too much. He suffered in silence for as long as he could until your outburst.

“Would you hate me if I said both?”

This time his smile revealed his pointed canines, longer than they usually were. You noticed the pale skin around his eyes had a dusting of rose-colored pigment, and small, faint, spindly veins branched around them. Those usually signified his hunger, and now that you thought about it, you couldn’t remember the last time he had fed.

Having a vampire as a boyfriend, while as outlandish as it sounded, was surprisingly low-maintenance. You weren’t sure if it was because of Sunghoon’s personality or if all vampires were like this—he was the only one you had ever met, to your knowledge—but he was really easy going. He held himself with great self control, only feasting when absolutely necessary.

When you had started dating him, he admitted his identity to you and assured you that he only fed on animals. For a while he had tried stealing blood from a local hospital, but he felt guilty, so he had quit. As nice as human blood was, he always felt it was morally wrong, so he stuck to an animal-exclusive diet. It wasn’t until you were almost a year into dating that you suggested he feed from you, and even then it took him a couple months to come around to the idea.

The first time he fed from you was overwhelming, to say the least, but he displayed way more self control than he thought he could. You had gone limp in his arms, which held you tight at the waist, crushing you against him while his teeth were sunk into the junction of your neck and shoulder. When you let out the smallest whisper of his name, he released you as fast as he possibly could, using his thumb to cover your puncture wounds. He had taken a bit more blood than he should’ve, but thankfully it wasn’t enough to cause you damage.

You healed up just fine after some food, water, and rest, and the next day you were good as new. But he still held off as long as possible between feedings, not wanting to take advantage of the food supply he could get from you. Though, secretly, you loved when he used you. The feedings almost felt like taking drugs. The rush you got from them was euphoric, even if it did take a large amount of energy out of you. And Sunghoon looked hot when he fed, you couldn’t deny that. The way his eyes turned that dark red (almost black) color. The way your blood stained his lips with a crimson hue. The way he became hungry for you in a way that surpassed normal lust. It was so primal. So carnal. So excruciatingly sexy. Every time you just wanted him to have his way with you, there and then.

“Okay,” you said, “but can we try something different this time?”

Sunghoon was shocked you were agreeing to a feeding right now, given your seemingly indifferent mood all morning. But he simply nodded, willing to do almost anything to get blood in his mouth soon, “Sure.”

“Do you, um, have to take blood from my neck every time?” you asked him, looking up at him with the art of seduction brewing in your eyes.

“No, I guess- I guess I could take it from your wrist or somewhere else on your arm. It’s just that the neck is the easiest access point,” he tried to explain, but admittedly he was pretty thrown off by the question. No one had ever asked him that before.

“So, you could really bite me anywhere then?”

“Y-yeah, I suppose I could. What did you have in mind?”

You simply smiled to yourself, having no doubt in your mind that you would get him to feed from you exactly how you wanted him to. Exactly like you had imagined a handful of times.

And, boy were you right. Not even five minutes later he had you thrown unceremoniously onto your bed, your shorts and underwear discarded and tossed across the room. His inhuman strength was used to grab your legs and place them over his shoulders as he wedged himself between your thighs. One tantalizing look from him and then he was committing the most sinful acts on you with his tongue. Licking and prodding and kissing and sucking your sensitive skin in all the right ways. In all the right places. He drew the most erotic, filthy noises from you, along with some moans of his name. He smirked wickedly into your pussy, his pride—and his cock—swelling.

Low growls rumbled from deep in his throat as he ate you out. His mouth moved with ardor, as if your cum was his life source instead of the red ichor that flowed in your veins. And he didn’t plan on stopping until he got both. So he hummed, holding your clit between his lips. He opened his eyes just in time to see you slipping, your eyes vaguely crossing and your lips agape, a gasp stuck in your throat.

“Hoon- Please- I need . . . Oh my God,” your words trailed off into a moan that was so pornographic you couldn’t believe it came from you. Your boyfriend was always great at eating you out, but this was on another level.

“Need what, _______? To cum? Then do it. Cum on my tongue, baby,” he pulled away to egg you on, then promptly returned to lapping at your slick lips. Your skin felt like velvet over his tongue, and your arousal tasted like juice from the sweetest fruit. But your blood would be the richest and smoothest of wines. And he wanted to get drunk off of you at any means necessary.

You wanted to answer, but you physically weren’t able to. Any words that you thought of formed in your throat and died before they could reach your lips, coming out in faint croaks or cut-off moans. His name was the only thing you could get out, and even that could only escape in choked gasps or panted breaths. It was the loudest when your orgasm finally snapped.

Your stomach felt like it was doing flips, and the area between your ribs and your thighs felt warm. Sunghoon’s grip on the outside of your thighs tightened as he tasted the first drips of your cum. His tongue collected as much of it as he could get. But he had to act quickly. While you were still in the throes of your orgasm, he pulled his lips away from your cunt, directing them to the plush of your inner thigh. He bared his fangs as much as he could before breaking your skin with them, sinking them as far as he could without seriously harming you.

A sharp gasp sounded from your mouth, and your hands fisted the sheets at your sides, tugging them into the tight grip of your knuckles. The pain was borderline insufferable, but you knew the taste of ecstasy that soon followed would make it all worth it.

In a matter of a minute, the pain was subduing and was being replaced by waves of pleasure. The warmth that was caused by your orgasm was ignited into a fiery heat, like the nozzle of a stove slowly being turned from low to high. Then, the tingling started. First in the thigh that he was feeding from, then the other one. It spread to your knees and hips. And soon after that, the numbness set in. That’s when you knew it was getting to be too much. Your body was going into a panic, but your mind was still dazed from the effects of his venom, which seeped in from the bite.

“S-“ you groaned, barely able to form a coherent thought, “Sung- . . . Sunghoo . . .”

Your boyfriend’s eyes shot open, and he immediately withdrew his mouth from your leg, “Fuck, I’m sorry, ________.”

You shook your head lazily, not entirely sure if the lack of energy was more from the orgasm or the feeding.

“You tasted so good, I couldn’t help myself,” he spoke quickly, his voice full of panic. He leaned down to lave his tongue over the puncture marks, using his saliva to heal them. It would seal them for now, keeping you from bleeding, but it would take a few hours for them to close, “Are you alright?”

In the blink of an eye, he was hovering above you, and anyone else would’ve been startled. But you were so used to his inhuman speed by now, you were unfazed. You were, however, dismayed still, and concernedly so. Sunghoon’s hand reached up to gently grab your chin, tilting your head from side to side, “________, baby, answer me. Are you okay?”

A drunken smile appeared on your lips, but your eyes remained closed, “‘m great.”

He sighed in relief, shaking his head, “Don’t do that. I was worried I drank too much.”

“A little,” you mumbled in a half-response, slurring your words, “but . . . felt s’ good.”

“Don’t black out on me,” he chuckled softly, a hint of worry still in his red-colored eyes as he peered down at you. His fingers gripped your chin a little tighter as he leaned forward and kissed the corner of your lips, “I mean it.”

“Or what?” you teased, eyes half-opening to see his handsome face inches from your own. If you weren’t so weak, you would have rolled you both over and taken the reigns then.

“Or I’ll eat you,” he mocked you, booping the tip of your nose with his before kissing you again, this time on the lips. His lips were tinged with blood still, the taste of iron present on them but not unbearable.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“You decide,” he patted your thigh affectionately, his thumb smoothing your skin and lingering near the marks he left on it. Then he got up off the bed, heading for the door, “Don’t move, I’m gonna get you a snack and some water.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @mrsdacherry @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite

[juicykvnture]

MANEATER

Wally West x fem!reader

Wally West x his (completely and 100% normal) vampire!gf ☆ headcannons/drable

tags: fem!reader in mind but it’s not THAT specific, mentions of blood (not graphic), fluff

a/n: yk what hell yeah

Wally West who didn't even notice that he was down bad horrendous for a vampire at first.

He didn't feel your aura of impending doom - or how you only ever left your apartment at night. He just deemed your crimson eyes a unique shade of brown, too distracted by how pretty they looked under your lashes.

Wally West who only put two and two together when he caught you curled up on the couch with a blood bag in hand, your fangs piercing through the plastic like it's a capri-sun.

He was shocked at first, rightly so! Until he thought back to your less than normal tendencies; the weird talismans you wear, the way he often wakes up with you just standing there at the foot of his bed - staring, the way your sharp nails dig into his arms, the way you bite his lip a little too hard when you kiss him.

He stares at you nothing less than bamboozled, his mouth agape as his head tilts to the side before blinking rapidly,

"Huh?? I thought you were just freaky?"

Wally West who gets a little bit jealous when you have the audacity to get your fix from a blood bag. Like, how could you when you have all of him right there?

He's like sulking from the doorway, staring at you,

"Oh, I see. Am I just a common whore, then? Just another concubine of yours?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" You glance up from the tv, your tongue darting out for a moment to catch a stray trickle of blood down your chin.

"Nothing! You have fun with your sub-par blood bag, I'm going out for a run!"

Wally West who can't even sit through any sort of vampire movie without him turning to you every two seconds with questions like -

"Wait, do they really do that?" - "Is that lore accurate?" - "You wouldn't do that to me, yeah? Promise?" (He's not entirely sure if he'd be all that offended, though)

When you don't answer that last one he plays it off with a nervous laugh, scratching the side of his neck (as if you can't hear his heart absolutely slamming)

Wally West who just insists on helping you do your makeup, even though you're fully capable of doing it yourself for years.

He claims it's cause you can't see your own reflection in most mirrors, insisting he shows you his handiwork on his phone, (old mirrors have silver, modern phones don’t) sneaking a photo every single time until he's at the point he's got a whole folder of them saved.

It's just an excuse to have you closer, so he can stare at your face for a couple minutes longer in the mornings.

Wally West who randomly pokes at your fangs whenever he feels like it, acting like he’s surprised when you retaliate by giving his fingers a bite. It’s like he’s almost dissatisfied with the fact he doesn't have cool teeth for whatever reason.

Your glare snaps him out of it sometimes, resulting in a stupid grin stretching across his face,

"What? You wouldn't tear up the light of your life!"

Wally West who is now determined to become an expert on bloodsuckers like you (bless him), asking you the most cliche shit he can think of, especially when he's all dizzy after you drain him a little.

"Do you sleep in a coffin?" He pipes up, staring up at the ceiling he's asking you about the weather or what you want for breakfast.

"No, Wally. I don't."

"You sure? Cause I can get one."

Similarly,

"You know, I have like zero problem hanging the bed upside down on the ceiling if it makes you sleep better,"

"Wally, it's fine. I can sleep like a normal person." You stare at him, wiping his blood from the corner of your lips.

"You sure? I have a drill and some rope, somewhere."

Wally West who's gotten used to you sleepily gnawing at his neck or wrist sometimes - to the point that he's actually kinda sad when you fall asleep, not pulling your face away from him unless he absolutely has to get up and do something. It's weird, but he just likes being close to you, even as a walking blood bag.

Wally West who swears on his life that he's 100% fine and not lightheaded when you forget yourself and go a little too far, shaking his head weakly when you start to ramble apologetically, already halfway to the kitchen for bandaids and iron supplements.

"No, no.. come back. It's fine." He insists.

You're not convinced, staring at his head slumped against your shoulder, carefully tilting his head up to make sure his eyes are still open.

"M'sorry."

His only response is to try shake his head, his lips curling into a dazed smile despite the fact his head is spinning.

"No, it's totallyyy fine.. you could like stab me and l'd be like it's okay. cause you're my hot girlfriend."

You're just starting at him now, he's definitely fucked up cause of blood loss.

You're shifting around on the bed, tucking a stack of pillows under his head with a soft frown, his fingers loosely tugging at your wrist so you don't pull away.

You know that any sort of lecture from you would land on deaf ears.

He truly insists that he can walk (well, run) off any and all kind of injury or affliction. He doesn't really seem to be able to comprehend the fact that losing a gallon of blood isn't the same as any run of the mill kind of scratch.

"M'fine, m'the fuckin' flash, know? My hearts like wayyyy better than a regular guys."

"Is it?" You sigh, gently stroking your fingers through his messy read hair.

"Duh? it's yours."

a/n: see! I promise I’m capable of joy and whimsy sometimes..

[lovelettersfromluna]

Compass

Summary: I’ve got something to confess, I keep you in my pocket to use. You’re my only compass, I might get lost with you.

an: let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been gone for a long time, yeah? Hehe. this most definitely is not the fic that I’ve been working on literally the entire time I’ve been gone (that’s coming don’t worry), but I got this idea at 2 in the morning and I had to jump on it IMMEDIATELY. Hope you all like it mwah mwah love you.

Warnings: SMUT!! Minors please for the love of everything that is good, do not interact, modern day vampire!Ellie, semi graphic descriptions of blood and wounds, shy!reader, Ellie bites you a lot, Ellie feeds on you and honestly it’s borderline soft core porn, fingering Ellie!receiving, grinding, mentions of bruises, Ellie is extremely fucking strong, Ellie watches you in your sleep/can get into your apartment without a key, let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

You aren’t really sure how you and Ellie became friends.

Well, you are, maybe a better question would be why you two became friends. You were both so different, you were convinced the first time you met that she hated you. The night filled with quick glances as she damn near avoided speaking to you like you were the fucking plague. It took you a bit to not take it too personally, reminding yourself that you weren’t for everyone, and that was okay! So what if the mutual friend didn’t like you…it wasn’t the end of the world.

So, it came to a surprise to you when a few nights after meeting Ellie passed, you had not one, not two, but three of your friends texting you and asking you if it was okay if they gave her your number…

Because she’d asked for it.

And suddenly you’re texting each other every day, and well into the wee hours of the night. You know, like one of those friendships. The ones that makes you smile every time you see their name pop up on your phone, or the ones where you send each other stupid videos on TikTok all day just to talk about them on a different messaging platform, because of course you’re interacting with each other every where that you have a presence.

Ellie becomes your best friend before you even realize it, and it makes you realize that maybe she didn’t dislike you as much as you thought before.

It always did confuse you a bit in the beginning how you two got along so well. You were both so different from one another. Ellie was a party animal, you were a home body. Ellie was up late at night, you were up early in the morning. If Ellie was the moon, then you were the sun. Polar opposites coming together to find a home in one another, the most unusual pairing stuck by the hip from that point on.

You of course, kept all each other’s secrets. You’d learned very early on that no one really knew much about Ellie, which you simply chalked up to her being a private person. However, she seemed eager to tell you any and everything about her. Like her dad, she’d talk about him all the time, you figured on early on that she really loved him. Or whenever she had a a new fling going, you’d be the first to know of course. She’d even told you about the time she threw away her dad’s playboy magazine after stealing it from him, which she swore she’d never told a soul.

She wanted to know all about you too! Your favorite color, favorite animal, childhood crush, family relationships. Truthfully? If you weren’t so oblivious, you would’ve seen a long time ago that Ellie was the slightest bit obsessed with you.

But you loved her, and you trusted her with your life, so you told her everything! Because you didn’t keep things from each other.

So, on a night out with everyone else, Ellie disappears, and of course you try to look for her, asking around only to be told that everyone saw her leave. Going outside to make sure she’s okay is the only logical thing to do, right? You have to make sure she’s okay.

What you don’t expect though, is when you look down a dark alleyway a few buildings down from the club you’re at, and spot the tall figure of your friend tucked into the brick wall of the dark corner, shielding way whatever it is that’s behind her. You call out for her, and when she turns around you gasp.

Because her eyes were red, and not red like you haven’t gotten any sleep, or you’ve been crying, the green of her eyes are now red, bloodshot red, and she’s holding a lifeless body in her tattooed arms…and there’s blood covering her pink lips, dripping down her chin.

Yeah, Ellie was a vampire.

You let out a gentle yawn as your hand went down to grab the remote control to your tv, your other hand coming up to rub your eyes a bit, a sorry attempt at trying to wake yourself up enough to get from the couch to go to your bed.

You pouted softly, lazily bringing your phone up to check the time before you sighed, finally finding the strength in you to push yourself up off the couch to leave your living room.

Work had been absolutely plowing you into the ground, your publicist constantly hounding you to keep working on the most recent installment of your book series. It was just so fucking hard, everytime you sat down in front of your computer, it was like writing your own book was the last thing you wanted to do.

It was draining you, and it felt like every time you finished a set of chapters, your brain was complete mush.

The upside though, was that it tired you out enough to completely knock out once you were in bed.

A gentle sigh left your lips once your head hit your soft pillow, plush blankets wrapping around your body, sliding down your bare legs and making you feel absolutely blissful. You couldn’t even stop yourself from the soft smile on your lips as your eyes grey heavy, the low lighting in your room making you feel all the more cozy, all the more warm.

You were out in seconds, soft snores leaving your sleeping body as you entered a world of dreams, escaping reality for a few measly hours before you were bombarded with the real world around you in the morning.

Ellie was on the other side of town, or at least, leaving the other side of town. It was late, and while she did love to be a creature of the night, there was something that sounded much more inviting than a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.

You, of course.

You were Ellie’s kryptonite, the single thing in this entire fucked up world that convinced her there was something worth living for, in her case, existing for. You were so fucking good, so sweet, so forgiving of literally everything. There were too many times that Ellie recalled where she wasn’t even sure you were real, perhaps another mythical creature much like herself, sent to this world to lure others into a trap that was just as filthy and terrible as the rest of the world.

But you weren’t…there were never any cons or secrets that you held, and if you did hold any secrets, you were more than willing to let Ellie in on them. No…no you were different.

God were you different.

Ellie recalls the night she first laid eyes on you like it was yesterday, her cold, dead heart jolting back to life for only a second when she saw you, at least that’s what it felt like. Your smile radiant in the dim, multicolored lights of the club, cheeks shining, eyes twinkling, like an angel sent from above. Ellie almost felt like a being as evil, and sour as she wasn’t worthy of being in the same room as you.

And god…your fucking smell.

Ellie could go on about it for hours. Sure, you were remarkable without it, but it was just the icing on the cake, the twisting of the knife in her chest.

She has mastered the art of walking into a room filled with warm bodies pumped full of blood and while ago, her throat burning with the urge to sink her teeth into her next poor victim. It was easy, annoying, but easy, and she couldn’t really remember the last time she struggled being around anyone, especially friends, or even friends of a friend.

But the second she saw you, your sweet, dulcet smell wafting against her nose, she was transported back in time. Back to a time where she was but a young vampire, clueless of the world around her, of her new life, adapting to something she didn’t even know existed before all of this, without a single guide or a fucking pamphlet for gods sakes.

It made her eyes widen, and she stopped breathing instantly to try and dull the scent of you sneaking into her nostrils and down into her eager throat. She noticed the way you pouted and sighed whenever she’d ignore you, or give her nothing but a brief response whenever you tried to get to know her. She could tell this wasn’t your thing, the night life, partying, you were here because someone asked it of you, and you being the good friend you are would never let anyone you cared about down.

Despite Ellie being a total dick to you because she simply couldn’t control herself around you, you sucked it up, carried on and stayed until everyone else decided to leave.

Watching you leave that night, made Ellie realize you weren’t something she could pass up.

Asking for your number was probably the best thing Ellie had ever done in her immortal life. Speaking to you was far better than thinking about you constantly, and after she’d convinced herself she wouldn’t do anything stupid with you, she was finally ready to introduce herself to you, the right way.

It’s how she constantly found herself like this, searching for your warm embrace around her cold, dead body every time she found the opportunity. She’d come to you when she was done working, she’d come to you when the girls at the bar were boring her, she’d even come to you when she simply knew you were home and she had nothing to do.

Ellie hummed softly as she looked up at your apartment building, the warm summer breeze wafting against her skin as she stared up at your window, the white curtains blowing out with the wind. She sighs to herself.

“Told you to stop leaving your window open…” she mumbles softly to herself.

The human eye wouldn’t ever be able to catch the way Ellie climbs up the side of your building, her arms and legs scaling it like a pro, making it look as simple as walking, or even breathing. It’s too fast, and in the blink of an eye, she’s at your balcony, long fingers pulling back your curtains to get a look at your sleeping figure.

She watches as your chest rises and falls, your blanket covering your sleeping frame, bare legs kicked out from under them, shining under the moonlight. She isn’t sure how long she stays there at your window staring at you, watching in awe as you do something as simple as sleep.

It isn’t until you shift slightly in your sleep, a dreamy sigh leaving your lips, that Ellie finally pushes her long legs over your window to step into your room, sneaker clad feet pressing onto the wooden floor of your bedroom.

She looks around for a moment, taking a deep inhale as she lets your scent wash over her for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as she simply lets you consume her, fill her up and make her feel whole again.

Make her feel alive again.

You never really understood it, why Ellie lingered when she hugged you, face pressed at the nape of your neck, swaying you slowly as she clung to you longer than normal. Well…you did know, at least you’d find out later on when Ellie finally explained everything to you…what she was, how it happened.

Although, it was only half what you thought. Sure, the smell of your blood made Ellie’s mouth water, her nostrils flare and her throat burn, but it was so much more than that. You made her feel whole, and even if it were a few seconds, she was going to make the most of it every time she got the chance.

And that’s what she felt when she was in your little room. The cool breeze filling up the space, the dim lights casting a warm glow over you because you couldn’t sleep in the dark. You used the excuse of creating an ambiance for yourself when you slept, but Ellie knew you far better than that. It was like you’d perfected the feeling of comfort, bottled it up and sprayed it around your room every other day.

The wind blowing your curtains a bit harder caught Ellie’s attention, and she sighed softly as she walked over to it and shut it. She had told you time and time again to quit it, warning you about the weirdos that would love to take advantage of a pretty girl with her window open while in the most vulnerable state.

Even though the only weirdo that ever snuck into your room through said window, was Ellie. If anything, your little habit only fueled Ellie’s addiction for you further.

The sound of your window closing makes you groan softly in your sleep, and at that sound, Ellie knows she’s done it.

While she wanted nothing more than for you to be awake when she came over, she hated waking you. You looked so fucking serene when you slept, and Ellie felt like the devil himself whenever she accidentally ripped you away from that, even if the only thing she wanted was for you to be awake and talking to her.

Your body twists and turns a bit, slowly finding its way out of the drowsy state of sleep you were in. You let out a gentle yawn before one of your hands come up to rub your eyes, moments before you turn to your side to face her, hand resting between your cheek and your pillow as your eyes open and focus on the tall frame standing in front of your bed.

Ellie is convinced nothing scares you, because for as long as she’d been doing this, sneaking into your bedroom and watching you sleep, on the rare occasion that you wake up and catch her, you never seem scared. You don’t gasp or scream, you don’t even flinch when you see the dark, looming presence stood there in front of you. Ellie was sure the first time you caught her there, that you’d scream in horror before calling the police on her.

But you never did. You always stared at her with a sleepy smile, eyes puffy with sleep, lips a bit swollen, looking at her as if she were your favorite person in the entire world.

And like all those nights before, you do the same. A gentle yawn falls from your lips as you rub your eyes once more before tugging your blanket further up your shoulder.

“Ellie…” you sigh out softly, and you sound so fucking dreamy, so beautiful does her name sound falling from her lips. It makes Ellie weak in the knees.

She walks over to you slowly, smiling softly down at you as she grows closer and closer to your bed until she’s standing over you, one of her hands coming down and running around your blanket clad shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Wanted to come visit…sorry I woke you” she hums soft, her hand traveling up until it reaches your face, one of her fingers caressing your cheek ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter shut at this, and she can see that the gesture alone is nearly enough to lull you back to sleep.

“S’okay…I wake up in the middle of the night all the time…you know that” you assure her, words falling with yet another yawn before you open your sleepy eyes up again to stare up at her.

Before she can even speak though, your content expression is replaced with one of worry as you finally get the chance to focus on her face, your eyebrows furrowing as you prop yourself up on your elbow, your other hand reaching up to touch her cheek as you become more and more alert with each passing moment.

“Are you okay Ellie? You look…why are your eyes so…” you mumble, now on your knees to reach her better, your face in front of hers as your eyes search hers.

She looked pale, paler than usual. Her lips were chapped, eyes dull and sunken in, she looked like she hadn’t slept in centuries, like all the life had been sucked out of her. And while that technically was the case, Ellie often looked vibrant for her dead state, eyes sharp and alert, green eyes almost fluorescent with color when you looked into them.

Immediately, you know what was wrong.

“When’s the last time you…had something to eat?” You ask sternly, eyebrows furrowed and a firm frown on your pouty lips.

That was another thing…Ellie hadn’t properly fed in about two weeks, going on three now.

She let out a gentle sigh, her hands resting on your hips as your own rested on her cheeks, cupping her face and forcing her to look into your eyes even though she avoided eye contact.

She hated when you saw her this way, so weak, so small. She liked it when she was the best version of herself, the version that was well fed, agile and strong. Not like this, not like when she was turning into a shell of the woman she once was.

“I…it’s just been a few nights, angel…it’s no big deal” she tries, giving your hips a firm squeeze as she attempts to convince you that she was fine. However her appearance and her voice is a dead giveaway that she’s lying, the sound hoarse and scratchy, sounding as if she’d been clawing at her throat for days to ease the pain she felt.

“You can’t lie to me, Ellie. You look horrible” you scold the girl.

She lets out a sigh, and she almost feels ashamed of herself. Sure, there were times where a meal was a bit harder to come by, people becoming a bit more aware of the danger that lingered when she was near, but god, Ellie couldn’t remember a time where it was this bad. It was like every single time she got someone in her arms, trapped in her little scheme, something cock blocked her entirely from finishing the deed.

And the more times that happened, the weaker she got.

“I’ve just been really unlucky…okay? Most of us do this in packs or with a fucking partner at least…it gets tricky when you’re on your own” she finally admitted, a gentle sigh falling from her lips as she leaned down to rest her head against your shoulder, pressing her weight against you in the process, as it was slowly becoming unbearable to hold it up herself at this point.

“M’just going through a thing right now, baby…don’t worry about it” she mumbled against you, lips ghosting over your soft skin as she again tried to assure you she’d been fine.

Ellie had always made it a point to never get as low as this, and if she did, she made it a point to never let you see her. What would her sweet best friend think of her if the monster she truly was had the chance to shine through? How would you ever allow her in your presence again once you finally realized how disgusting she truly was?

What Ellie didn’t know, is that you didn’t think any of those things. You could never find her to be a monster or disgusting, you adored her far too much to ever see her that way. No, what you did think when you saw her that way, were any of the things you could do to help her. That was the only thing you wanted, to help her.

You don’t even think twice before you say it, giving yourself a moment to mull over the idea and weigh out the pros and cons before it’s escaping the confides of your mind and making its debut out into your bedroom.

“Feed on me” you blurt out, so quickly you aren’t even sure Ellie fully catches it properly.

But she does, Ellie hears every word, every syllable, she can even hear the way your heart beat quickens after you’ve said it.

She’s slowly lifting her head from your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and lips frowning as she stares down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful, hopeful that she’ll take the offer, that she’ll allow you to give yourself to her for the sake of her wellbeing.

“No.” She deadpans without a second thought. She doesn’t even give herself a second to indulge in the idea of it, knowing how badly it could end, how terrible it could be with one wrong move, or one gulp too much. Ellie knows that this is nothing to toy with, especially with you.

You’re quickly shaking your head once she rejects your offer, your hands falling from her face to rest down on her shoulders, leaning in a bit to press your body closer to hers.

“Ellie…look at yourself. How were you even able to climb up here?” You plead with the girl, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze before you inhale deeply.

“I’m giving you permission…I want you to do this” your words almost come out like a beg, wanting nothing more than to simply help the girl, to help a friend in need that clearly needed it.

And you knew deep down, that no matter what, Ellie would never hurt you.

Ellie knew it too. She knew that she wouldn’t go too far to take your life away from you. She had been around long enough to have the self control to stop whenever she knew you’d had too much.

However, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be hard.

She inhaled deeply, giving your hips a gentle squeeze before she finally brought her own eyes up to look into yours. Her pink tongue darted out to run along her lips, wetting the chapped skin before she let out a gentle sigh.

“You’ll tell me when it becomes too much…right?” She asks, desperate for confirmation from you that you won’t let her go too far, even if she wanted to.

You give her a bright smile, a gentle giggle leaving your lips as you nod. “I will…now go on…sooner you do this, the sooner I can sleep” you tease her playfully, which makes her groan softly with a pout.

She sighed softly, reaching forward and pushing your hair to the side to expose the soft, supple skin of your neck. Her eyes zeroed in on it, and she could practically see your pulse from beneath your skin, making her shudder at the thought of it. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your throat, which earns a gentle sigh from you.

“This’ll hurt…” she mumbles against you, peppering your skin with gentle kisses. You simply tilt your head further to the side, resting your temple against her shoulder as your arms hang loosely around her neck, your body pressed against hers.

“Mm…I’ll be okay” you mumble out sleepily, your fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of her neck.

Ellie can feel the way your pulse slows under her lips, and she has to stop herself from groaning due to how fucking strong your smell was right now with your body pressed against hers. She knew that the longer the stood her, mouthing away at your neck instead of actually feeding, she’d just keep you from getting back to the rest that she had interrupted in the first place.

It was now or never.

She sighed softly, swallowing thickly before she opened her mouth a bit wider, fangs protruding out from her gums and taking their rightful place. She let them graze your skin, the sharp teeth sure to leave scratches from something as small as a graze, before she finally latched her lips to your throat, and sunk her teeth into your flesh.

Now…Ellie had her fair share of tasty meals within her immortal life time. There were maybe a handful of people that left a faint memory in her head, better than most of the others she’d fed on in her past, so she was no stranger to a warm body with a nice taste.

But you? God….there was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Ellie for how fucking…divine you taste. It was like liquid gold on her tongue, the smell that had plagued her mind from the moment she met you a mere tease to the real deal. It made Ellie moan against you, her eyes fluttering shut as her tattooed hands clawed at your waist, gripping the skin so tightly she was sure to leave bruises, pressing you flush against her body.

She could practically feel the essence of your life filling her up and bringing all of her strength back, replacing the once empty, dull feeling in her body with one that could only be described as rejuvenation. The taste you gave her flowing into her mouth and making her feel like she’d died and gone to heaven.

The noises you made only aided Ellie in her blissful state, tiny moans and huffs leaving your lips as you continued massaging her scalp with gentle fingers, allowing her to take whatever she needed from you.

Ellie knew she could’ve drained you, taken every last drop of your life and left you dry. She could do it ten times over if it were an option, however it wasn’t, and she knew at the back of her head she could only take what she needed, and nothing more. So she knew once your grip around her neck loosened a bit, that she needed to stop.

She unlatched from your neck breathlessly, your crimson blood painting her plush lips, red eyes blown out wide as she eyed the damage she’d done to your poor neck, the punctures filling Ellie’s chest with a sense of pride as some of your blood and her saliva dripped down the base of your throat. She leaned in, licking you clean before pressing a gentle kiss to the wound, groaning softly as when she heard you hum softly.

“All…finished?” You mumbled out with a dreamy smile on your lips, eyes half lidded as you stared up at the girl who had just nearly sucked you dry.

Ellie stared down at you with a look of disbelief, the back of her hand coming up and wiping her lips. “You said you’d tell me to stop…” she groaned softly as she gently set you down to lay back on your bed.

You let out a soft yawn, nodding as you tugged your blanket up with a weak hand to drape over your body. “I was…you stopped sooner than anticipated” you giggled out sleepily before you eyed the girl from your bed, already feeling the drowsy affects of sleep taking over.

“You look better already, El…” your compliment made her dead heart swell. She could feel it too, your life coursing through her veins and bringing back all of the good aspects of being immortal, the strength, the radiance, all of it brought back because of you.

She chuckled softly at your words, walking over to your closet and grabbing your first aid kit, fishing a little band aid out before walking back towards you. She sat at the edge of the bed, her pointer and middle finger pushing your jaw up slightly to get a look at the wound she’d given you.

“Here…so you don’t get blood on your pillow” she explains as she pressed the bandaid to your neck. You simply hum in response, and Ellie knows you’re probably already asleep. Between being tired before all of this, and losing blood, she expected for you to be out like a light long before she bid you a goodnight.

She stays a bit longer after you’ve fallen asleep, her long limbs crawling over your body to lay in bed with you, marveling at the way the color returned to your body, the way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your lips would part with a gentle sigh ever so often. She’d let her hands caress your skin, watching as goosebumps appeared to trail after them. She simply appreciated how human you were, how warm and responsive you were even during sleep.

She leaves once the sun begins to peak above the horizon, knowing you’d want your privacy when you woke up in a few hours. She makes sure to close your window after she’s left too, scaling down the building much quicker than she did when she first arrived.

And while she walks home, the sun slowly casting a warm glow onto the city she lived in, she knew that she’d made a mistake by feeding on you.

Because now? She was completely and utterly ruined for anyone else that she’d feed on after you.

Bloodlust

The word had entirely different meaning for those like Ellie, creatures of the night that fed on the essence of life, the scarlet, metallic liquid that flowed and pumped throughout the bodies of the living.

She had heard of it happening to other vampires, in an instance of finding the human being that acted as a drug to them, making it hard to function without their taste on their tongues. It was an occasion that only ever happened when there was a mutual agreement between a vampire and a human, a hunter/prey proposition that acted in a more…ethical way.

It consumed the one feeding, making it hard to function without the person near, almost creating an inseparable bond between the two, paired with a constant line of food with it as well. It took over nearly everything, mind, body, soul, all of it belonging to the person they fed on, the human often times having more control over the vampire.

Ellie never really believed in it, instead viewing blood as something that was of and in itself, the same all the time. Sure, there were some people that tasted better than others, but blood was blood, no matter who the person was, they were more or less all the same at the end of the day. A meal was a meal, and that was that.

So if that was true, why were you the only thing on Ellie’s mind every waking second after the night she fed on you?

You were always on Ellie’s mind before it all, lingering at the back, making her smile when she thought of something silly you’d said to her earlier in the week, face beaming whenever you’d send a text her way, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that you were on her mind.

She thought of it constantly, the way you were so…so fucking eager for her, a sense of intimacy lingering in the air of an act so selfless. Your pouty lips parted as you moaned and sighed her name, her lips attached to your neck as you gave her everything. Feeding was always something that felt the slightest bit romantic, the closeness of it all.

But you…doing it with you was different than anything she’d ever experienced.

She knew it meant nothing to you, she knew that it was simply you being a good friend, which meant it was borderline wrong for her to take it any way other than what it was, but she couldn’t help herself. She could still taste you on her tongue when she got home, plopping down into her bed and staring up at the ceiling in her dark room as she felt her core tighten and flutter as she referenced back to the memory.

Ellie couldn’t help herself when she unbuttoned her jeans, slipped her hands down to cup her pussy, and caught her aching clit against her calloused fingers to give it some much needed attention.

And she moaned your name as if it were the only word in her vocabulary, blubbering and crying out for you as she angrily fucked her aching pussy, eyebrows furrowed to the point where she almost looked upset.

“F-fuck….that’s my fucking girl…that’s it…gonna cum all over your pretty fuckin’ face” she groaned out, picturing you settled between her legs, eagerly lapping at her weeping core, grinding down onto your face and giving you everything she had, much like you did when you allowed her to feed on you.

She’d cum with your name falling from her lips, back arching as her hips rolled against her palm, sopping wet cunt painting her slick all over her hand, making it hard to even keep it where she needed it with how wet she was, how fucking riled up you had her.

And she’d do it again, lying in her bed and thinking of the memory over and over again, hanging on to the sound of your voice sighing out her name, moaning for her as she licked her lips, searching for the taste of your blood still soaked on them. All while you were sound asleep in your apartment where she left you.

If Ellie thought she was drawn to you before, she was sorely mistaken. Because now? All she could do was crave you. It interrupted her day to day, made her brain foggy when she wasn’t with you or talking to you.

And soon? It became a habit.

Ellie was at your door every other night, long fingers searching for your hips to pull you closer as she pressed her face into your neck, tongue slipping out of her mouth to run along the now permanent marks on your neck, whispering in your ear about how badly she needed you.

It had become a bit of a routine, Ellie would come over, you’d let her feed on you until she saw fit, she’d go home and fuck herself, and then she would live in her own personal hell for the next few days that she wasn’t able to see you.

It’s how she found herself dragging her body down the hallway to your apartment, a heavy hand coming up to the door and giving it a firm knock.

When you answer, Ellie thinks you look like a dream. Your body is leaned up against the door, head resting against it as you give her a dreamy smile, oversized t-shirt hanging off of one of your shoulders, sleep shorts barely visible beneath the end of the shirt, hugging your ass so perfectly, your white socks bunched up at your ankles.

She has to bite back the moan that threatens to escape when she lays eyes on you.

“Mm…hi Ellie” your voice sounds like the sweetest melody, and she’s smiling sheepishly as she walks towards you, bending her knees a bit as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you flush against her tall frame, nearly light you up off the ground completely.

“There she is…” she sighed against you, and it sounds like Ellie can finally breath, like the weight holding her back from breathing in the air she so desperately needed has finally been granted to her, it makes you giggle softly.

You wrap your arms around her neck, humming softly as your fingers come up to tangle in her hair, simultaneously pulling her into your apartment. She kicks the door closed behind her, arms still wrapping you up and keeping you close.

She keeps you close, her head coming up to take a look at the set up you have going in that she’s walked in to. She can tell you’ve been working on your book, your laptop set on your couch paired with your favorite blanket, and a mug set on your coffee table that was still steaming.

“Working on the book?” She asked softly, you nod as you turn around in your arms, and excited smile on your face as you walk over to your spot, clicking the keypad a few times before you shut it.

“Yup. I’m getting pretty far….was wrapping it up right before you came over” you practically beamed.

Ellie always found it so endearing how dedicated you were to your work, and rightfully so, Ellie reminded you time and time again that she’d lived through many eras of famous writers, but you always topped them ten times over and then some. She’d never let you forget the talent you had was rare.

You plopped down on your couch after sliding your laptop into its little compartment under your coffee table, your legs coming up to cross over each other as you pat the spot next to you eagerly, to which she easily obliged of course.

Her old denim jacket rustled a bit as she sat down, resting her back against your couch as she slouched down a bit, legs spread as she stares up at you through the dim, cozy lighting of your living room.

You giggle softly, resting your cheek against your palm as you look down at her. “What are you staring at? You’re looking at me like I’m something to eat…” your words trail off, eyes narrowing at the girl playfully before you sit up, crossing your arms.

“Did you come all the way here to get a free meal out of me, Williams?” Your tone is accusing, but playful, and it makes Ellie chuckle as she bring her tattooed hands up to rub up and down her face before she groans.

“When you say it like that it sounds bad….I see it as seeing my favorite person with something extra added into it…” she defends herself before chuckling, looking back at you as she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently on the plump skin, letting her mind linger to imagine it was your lips she was sucking on instead as her eyes slowly zeroed in on them, similar to if she were under a spell.

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she mumbled out softly, voice gentle and truthful.

It was true, Ellie would cut all of this out the second you made even the slightest signal that you were tired of it, or if your body simply couldn’t handle it anymore. She knew that she’d never use you as her personal blood bag. The minute you wanted out, you got it, no questions asked.

You give her a gentle smile though, shaking your head as you shifted your body a bit so that it was now laying down on the end of the couch opposite of Ellie, your head resting against one of the plush pillows you had next to you while you were writing. You spread your legs a bit, making space for Ellie to crawl into before you stretched your arms out for her, a silent call for the girl to come closer.

“I’ll always give it to you, El…you know that. Come…” you call her again with a slight flick of your wrist.

Your words make Ellie’s head swirl, all of it sounding, and feeling, much too similar to something else, something more than just a friend helping another friend out. It sounds like you’re giving something else to her, something she’d dreamt of taking from you from the moment she laid eyes on you.

But she can’t indulge in that, not now, not when you’re being so kind.

She chokes back a groan, the girl slowly crawling over your body, similar to a predator creeping over its prey. Her body consuming yours as she pressed either one of her palms into the plush couch near your head, staring into your eyes as she settled between your warm thighs, the plush skin pressing against a sliver of her hips that was exposed at the top of her jeans. The feeling of her body pressed against your warm cunt, the only thing separating the two of you being the think material of your shorts, drove Ellie to the brink of insanity.

She hummed softly, her eyes trailing down your every feature, taking you in, eating you up for a moment before she grabbed your chin, tilting your head up and away to give her better access to the little area of your throat that had now become hers and only hers.

Soon, she’s leaning down, her body pressed against yours as she peppers kisses along your jaw until she reaches your throat, licking at the two little wounds that were in the shape of her fangs before she sighed against your skin, finally giving in and letting her protruding fangs sink into your skin.

You’d always been comfortable around Ellie, never shying away from her touch whenever she’d grab you whenever you were out together, or letting her easily pull you into her lap whenever you watched movies or played video games together, intimate touches never being out of the ordinary in your relationship.

But now, ever since you and her had started…whatever it was that you’d been doing, you had seemed to cross a boundary that was once put up. What was once little sighs and huffs, turned into full on moans whenever Ellie would press her body against yours and take what she wanted. You’d grip her hair, keeping her close as you moaned and whined out her name, breathless begs for her to keep going.

“Fuck…Ellie…” you moaned out for her, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers laced into her brown hair, keeping her close as her hands moved from either sides of your head to instead grip your body. Your hips were her favorite, holding onto the plush skin and keeping you close, massaging and kneading you as she pleased, a small piece of her wanting to bruise you up, just so she knew she was able to leave marks on you other than your neck.

It egged her on further, your calls for her making her swipe her tongue over the wound before she continued sucking your sweet essence from your body. Ellie wasn’t sure if you were fond of it at first, but now? With how you reacted? She was sure you enjoyed it, if even a little bit.

She became so drunk off of you, her mind clouded with the intense flavor of your blood, nearly choking on it with how quickly she drank sometimes. One of her hands left your hips, sliding down until she gripped your thigh, pulling it up and closer to wrap around her body, massaging the soft skin as she let one of her legs slip over your other one, so that her thigh was slotted against your cunt, and yours against hers.

Ellie didn’t even realize it at first, but she slowly began to grind into you, letting her thigh rub against your barely clothed pussy as she drank from you, her senses completely overwhelmed with just how fucking good you tasted, how good you felt. She felt her mind and body buzz with electricity when she pressed her chest against yours, and she could feel your nipples hardening through the thin material of your shirt, pressing against her own chest.

“Mm…h-hah…Ellie..I….Ellie please…” you begged, and Ellie was able to hear the way your voice was slowly going, growing more and more hoarse with every moan, every pant.

She was taking too much, and she wasn’t sure if she was begging for you to stop, or to keep going.

Ellie groaned loudly against you, prying her lips away from your dulcet neck, panting loudly as she pulled away further to look down at you, letting herself get a good look at the mess she’d made of you.

Your lips were swollen, eyes growing heavy, skin getting dull. Your hair was messy, and your shirt was pulled down further, revealing more of your shoulder and collar bones, while the bottom was pushed up to show more of your stomach.

It was like a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You blinked a few times as you tried catching your breath, staring up at Ellie as one of your hands came up to cup her cheek gently.

“A-all better?” You stuttered out, giving her that notorious dreamy smile of yours, the one that made Ellie feel like she was the only person in the world that got to see it.

She’s drained you, and yet you were asking if she felt better.

Ellie held back a groan, her large hand wrapping around your wrist before she brought your hand down to press a kiss to your palm, giving you a gentle nod before she inhaled deeply to control the emotions that threatened to escape while she saw you this way.

“Always when I’m with you baby” she chuckled out sadly.

The smile you give Ellie nearly has her in tears, because you look so genuinely happy, so content with the fact that you’ve helped her, that you’ve made Ellie feel better, even if it’s at the expensive of your own comfort.

At the expensive of your own life.

“I’m glad…” you hummed out softly before you yawned, clearly tired out from what Ellie had done to you. It makes Ellie frown, and she’s quickly pushing herself off of you before she scoops you up into her arms to carry you off to your bedroom.

Soon, she has you tucked into bed, your eyes closing almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, and Ellie has your blankets pulled up over your arms. It’s almost mind blowing how quickly you fall asleep, it makes Ellie feel a bit jealous, because she can’t remember a time where she was that comfortable in a bed to fall asleep so fast.

She watches you, of course. Sticking around for a few hours after you’ve slept, keeping an eye on you to make sure your chest continues to rise and fall slowly. She knows it would never go that far, but she always gets nervous after feeding.

Tonight was also different, and it was eating away at her because she knew there wasn’t really a right or wrong way to go about cleaning about it, or comforting you about how wrong this was, and how much Ellie had been draining you. Even the fact that you expected it of her when she came over left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that replaced the sweet one that usually lingered on her tongue after she had a taste of you.

And as she watched you sleep, so peaceful and so serene, Ellie began to think of any way this would blossom into something more. How would this carry on? She would continue sucking from you until you died one day? She’d come to you like a thief in the knight well after you had a family? Children to look after? Your life moving on while she stayed in an immortal purgatory? One where she continued the cycle of coming to you for a quick bite to eat? Paired with a warm body to lay on top of for the time being?

There was no way it could surpass this. You being her friend, helping her in a way not many could. Ellie knew, that deep down, the life she wanted with you was not one that was easy to come by, something that she wouldn’t dare ask of you. From the moment she saw you, she wanted more. Because that’s what she did, she took, and took, and took until there was nothing left to take, and it was slowly happening with you.

But Ellie loved you too fucking much to take until you were nothing but a shriveled up peace of what you used to be.

So, she took one long last look at you and she left your window. Because that night, she promised herself that she was finished. The life she wanted with you unfortunately wasn’t written in the stars for her, and she knew that from the moment she saw you.

Ellie was letting you go, because she knew it she didn’t.

She’d just end up killing you.

[dissimul0]

SAY IT pt.2

remmick x fem!reader

Summary: Some smut and then Remmick turns you into a vampire idk

wc: 1k

smut warning: dom!remmick x fem!reader. second-person pov, dirty talk, manipulation, blood, blood drinking, biting, heavy mention of religion, sex sex, idk i think thats it?

a/n: i lowkey wasn't gonna write a part two, but ppl were asking for it so i delivered... kind of. i went back to theaters and watched sinners for the third time and i rlly like the scene were remmick is like preaching to sammie so this is inspired by that. this is rlly short and basically js smut but i said id do a part two so i am. here damn, idk (jk i love u guys and ty for the support) again, ignore how the tense doesn't stay consistent, i hate writing in 2nd person pov

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

The night lay silent and still— the quiet house in the middle of the night felt like the world itself had paused. Floorboards settled now and then with soft creaks, and somewhere in the distance, a clock ticked—measured and patient. But, if one listened hard enough, they could hear the muffled mewls and whimpers escaping your writhing form, and the creaking of the bed frame as you shifted in pleasure. 

Remmick was with you, like most nights. It had become a habit. A bad one—at least in your opinion. Almost every other night, when the sun had long set and your family had gone to bed, you’d hear the quiet knocking on your window. And every time—like clockwork, you’d let him in. 

 The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.

He was sprawled on top of you, pelvis slotted between your thighs as he ground into you,  earning a whine so sinful it could've made even a devil like himself turn to God. 

Remmicks lips curled into a wicked smirk against your neck as you wriggled beneath him, your body clenching so deliciously around his plunging length. He could feel you trying to trap him between your thighs, but it only served to sink him deeper into your soaked heat. 

He chuckled darkly, his chest vibrating against your heaving chest, and nipped at your earlobe before soothing the sting with a languid lick. “Oh, come on darlin’. Don’t fight it,” he purred, his voice a sinful caress that sent shivers down your spine. "You can’t cling to yer morals now. Not when yer body...yer body is singin’ a different tune." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust of his hips. 

"Shh, shh, hush now," he cooed. "There's no use fightin’ it, baby. You cain’t resist me forever, no matter how prettily you plead and pray." His thumb found your clit and rubbed merciless circles around the sensitive bud, making your back arch off the bed with a choked cry. 

He captured your chin in his hand, forcing you to meet his smoldering eyes as he loomed over you. His own gaze was dark with lust and a twisted sort of affection, his pupils blown wide and dilated. "Yer God has forsaken you, but I haven’t. I’m here, and I can give you the pleasure you’ve been cravin’."

His hand slid from your hip to your breast, cupping the soft mound and kneading it roughly as his thumb and forefinger pinched and rolled your nipple through the thin fabric of your nightshirt. "Surrender to me,” he urged, his voice a seductive purr. "Surrender to the sin, and I promise you, you will know no greater bliss." He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim it as he ground his aching arousal against your core, determined to make you break.

You whimpered into the kiss, your hands fisting in his hair as you tried to push him away even as your body arched into his touch. You could feel the heat of him, the hard length of his body pressed against your curves, and it made your head spin with a dizzying mix of desire. “Quit talkin’ like that,” you gasped when he finally broke the kiss, your eyes glazed with unfulfilled lust. "Y’know I can’t…" But even as you spoke, your hips lifted, seeking more of his touch, more of the pleasure he promised.

Remmicks lips curled into a wicked grin against your kiss-swollen mouth as he felt your resolve weakening, your body betraying your true desires despite your feeble protests. He could smell the intoxicating aroma of your arousal, feel the slick heat of your dripping cunt as it clenched and fluttered around him.  

 It was only a matter of time before you broke, before you shattered completely and fell into the abyss of lust he'd created. And when you did, he would be there to catch you. He would be there to guide your soul straight to Hell with him.

“Come on. Give in.” He punctuated his words with a particularly harsh thrust, grinding the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit. "Yer soul may be pure, but yer flesh is weak. And I. Will. Have. You." He growled, his breath hot against the column of your throat. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin there, and he let out a groan.

Remmick could feel you tightening around him, your walls fluttering and clenching as your climax approached. He knew your body better than you knew yourself. Knew every inch of you, every secret spot that made you gasp and moan and writhe. He used that knowledge now, grinding his hips just so, rubbing that spot inside you that made you see stars. “Now, this ain’t gonna hurt. Much.” 

You felt his lips brush your skin first—soft, reverent. Then the bite: two sharp points sinking into flesh with a flash of pain, sharp and searing, but fleeting. A gasp caught in your throat, drowned by the sudden rush—warmth flooding out of you, and something colder, darker, slipping in to take its place.

The world blurred, spun, quieted.

He drank slowly, savored you. When he pulled away, crimson stained his mouth, and your body sagged, drained, barely held together by the flicker of your soul.

Your vision faded at the edges. Your body arched, convulsed, then stilled. The pain was white-hot. Then nothing. Then everything.

Moments passed before you opened your eyes.

You gasped as everything snapped into sharp focus—colors deeper, sounds louder, your senses stretched wide.  

Everything had changed.

And him—he was clearer than ever, like you’d known him in every life before this one.

He cradled your face, brushing his thumb across your lips. “Yer mine now,” he whispered.

And in the hush of that eternal night, with your hearts beating in perfect unison, you were no longer two.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

TAGS!! @jihyos-wifey @casarahsisland @risaru @lyssaluvs @twlvedoc @jana-jaeynneee @multifandom-26 @s4lemmoon @iluvdilfs29 @mel-valerio @goldenulienka @thegirlwholovesmythology @faephoria

(I think this is everyone who asked to be tagged, im sorry if i forgot u)

[anim-ttrpgs]

A Queer Reading of the “Vampire” Trait from Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy

As our fanbase has emphasized, many of the paranormal Traits in Eureka have a strong queer reading, so for pride month I’m going to go over the one that was most intentional. Of course, this is not the only possible reading of this Trait, Eureka is well known for its paranormal Traits being readable through the lens of disability, etc.. The fact that it can be read so many different ways is intentional and something I’m very proud of.

Anyway, everyone knows that vampires are unholy demonic spirits, the very antithesis of Christianity, burned and warded away by crucifixes and holy water. They control world politics from the shadows in Satan-worshipping cabals and the Vatican has special task forces of vampire hunters that are the only thing that stands between vampires and world domination. Even just interacting with them can corrupt you into becoming one of them. Everyone knows this, it’s just a fact about vampires. Except it’s not. The official stance of the Vatican since the very concept of vampirism was coined has been that they don’t even exist and even believing in them is heretical. In historical folklore, vampirism is not even consistently or commonly said to spread by bite or death from a vampire. They aren’t exactly a common occurrence.

The Holy Bible of course doesn’t say anything about vampires, it barely even says anything about demons, and “Satan” isn’t who you think he is.

Despite this, any vampire coming into existence any time within the past thousand years is still likely to experience immediate rejection from Christianity. At best, the condition is said to be a result of great sinfulness in life, of being the kind of person that most people don’t like and just kind of tolerate as long as they stay on the edges of the community.

Imagine if you didn’t fit in. Through some irrevocable trait, you’re different from other people, shunned, gossiped about. Unlike even those who do accept you and your differences. You won’t bring new life into this world, only take up space in it. Eventually, something gives, the old you perishes, and the new you, your true nature, comes out of the grave, and it’s terrifying.

People mourn the loss of the old you, while whispering about how they always knew there was something deeply wrong with you from the start. They treat the new you like it was never the same person. No matter what the Bible actually says, it can only be the result of something evil inhabiting your body. You can’t go near other people, especially young women, without risk of being struck down in fear. Why would you have come if you didn’t mean to take them by force, or worse, turn them into one of you. They cry out desperately to the Lord for protection, your Lord, the infinitely forgiving Lord that you lived your whole life in the Creation of. You, uniquely, are beyond His love.

It’s no surprise that when shown a crucifix, or standing at the threshold of a home, especially a house of God, no matter their intent, vampires hesitate.

If anything about this feels familiar, it’s also pretty close to the lived experiences of many we now call queer or LGBT. (as discussed in this other post, almost every bit of language associated with the LGBT community is extremely recent.) Rejected by the community they grew up in, rejected by God, allegedly. If you read the Bible with any shred of historical context, pretty much any reference to “sodomy” obviously refers pretty specifically to the Ancient Greek and Roman practice of pederasty, and Jesus Christ Himself certainly never spoke against “sodomites.” What it actually says in the Bible, though, won’t get you anywhere when everyone knows that homosexuals go to Hell for all eternity.* It’s a “fact” entrenched in our culture, it’s in our art, it’s something almost nobody examines. Whether vampires are the protagonists or antagonists of a vampire story, they represent the antithesis of Christianity.

*(Hell being something that is also barely even mentioned in the Bible and even so the whole point of Jesus dying on the cross was so nobody goes to Hell for all eternity.)

This doesn’t make vampires inherently the good guys, or a uniquely oppressed class in the world of Eureka, they can be and often are extremely dangerous, but why wouldn’t they be? They’re people with a need that society brands sickening, and maybe even they do themselves.

Every vampire in Eureka grew up with some branch of Christianity, and experienced that social rejection in some way or another. It’s written into the very mechanics and numbers of the Trait itself, and they’ll have to wrestle with that alongside all the mystery solving. It’s a weakness they’ll have to overcome or be undone by.

If they find strength in their faith and reconciliation with God in a way that does not necessitate the rejection of the self, despite rejection by so many that claim to carry His banner, good for them.

If they completely turn their back on a community that threw them out when they were most in need, good for them.

[bombuni]

Hiii! Can you write about Yeosang, San and Wooyoung? But if you're not okay with three of them, choose any two of them!

midnight stroll

summary: In which you find yourself in the hands of some insatiable, obsessed vampire lords. There’s only one way out. genre/pairing: vampire!woosansang x fem!reader, smut wc: 2.8k warnings: SMUT MDNI, dub-con (reader is swayed into it), predator/prey kink, primal play, chase (?) scene, their spit is an aphrodisiac, biting, a lil blood kink, they are in heat (i <3 horny vampires), creampie bom note: idk why i haven’t done this combo before as a person obsessed with carmilla & atz. lmk what u guys think, this is my first time writing a sort of horror (?) trope :)! pls heed warnings & safe reading bbies! enjoy!

You shouldn’t have gone out at night.

Every single bone-chilling story your mother used to frighten you into staying home now replays inside your head. It’s ridiculous how easily every murderous detail comes to your mind now that you’re actively living those stories. Lost little girl, all on her own, in a strange house on a rainy night.

You don’t know why tonight, of all nights, you decided to explore the old mansion that’s always stood tall in your neighborhood. You just felt something was telling you to come and visit. Every time you’d look out of your window, there it was. Alone and creaking for no one, wood rotting at every turn you make. You’re sure it was beautiful and sparkling in its heyday but now with no one to present for, it’s covered in cobwebs and dust.

The loud boom of thunder strikes and you jump through the threshold of a bedroom. The moonlight that shines in through the tall windows illuminates the tears in the blood red canopy. The bed is perfectly made, untouched by rest. The room is surprisingly large, only occupied by a few pieces of complicated furniture. Its marvelousness is enunciated because of its age. The darkness of the room is only broken by a candle on the bedside table.

Already lit.

You hope, pray, that it’s only another curious soul like you. That you haven’t stumbled upon some creep’s secret hideout and inadvertently become his next victim.

You start to back away. The floorboards creak under every step you take. You’re suddenly hyper aware of every breath you take and the speed of your heartbeat. Your body screams to run, nerves fighting and pulling you towards the exit, but your mind is frozen with the fear of being caught.

A harsh wind bites against the glass, making your blood ice cold in its wake and scaring any rationality out of you.

It doesn’t stop. It probably won’t for a while, and you’re forced to come to the realization that you’re stuck here. It’s either be picked up by high-speed winds or be hacked to pieces by whoever’s decided to shack up in this old, abandoned mansion. One is a definite and the other is a chance. You decide that if tonight’s the night you die by axe murder, so be it.

The dead tree branches keep scratching against the windows. Like they’re trying to talk to you, telling you to turn around as you venture deeper into the room. You want to listen.

But there’s a slam. Different from the thunderous weather outside. It’s closer and harsher in your eardrums, accompanied by booming footsteps that make your face fall and doom fill your senses. Whoever it is is making a beeline towards the room you’re in. They’re arguing with someone, frustration evident in their voice.

“Wooyoung, you were supposed to keep your eye on her.”

“It’s fucking pouring outside! How can I see when God is clearly trying to drown us all again?”

Their voices are muffled, but the danger is still clear. They have funny, unrecognizable accents that you’ve never heard before. You can’t really pinpoint it, as you’re focused on figuring out a way to get the fuck out of there.

Your panic rises as you hear the footsteps stop and no more conversation. The pause makes you hurry, fearing they’ve somehow sniffed you out. The greed of whoever built this room gives you no hiding spot, the free and large space being more of a dancefloor than an enclosed bedroom.

The knob to the room turns. With effort, the door creaks open. It introduces fear and an overwhelming panic into your system as your entire body shakes. You just hope to God that they don’t decide to check under the bed.

“I can smell you.”

Your breath catches. You think that if you stop breathing and scrunch your eyes hard enough, you’ll be back in the warmth of your room. But this is real. Every creaking floorboard, every quiet grunt, and every slow step proves it. It’s nearing you, testing the air to find your exact location. You know it’s an it, because how else could it have possibly figured you out so quickly?

“Your heart is racing like a rabbit. Pitter patter. Come out already.”

You cover your mouth to silence the scream of fear that wants to escape. It’s by the bed now. Stopped right behind you, as if it could see you right through the bedsheets and under the springs. The bed creaks as it slowly clambers onto it.

It sees you. It knows what you are and where you are. You’re simply staving off time until it decides to eat you whole. It’s toying with you.

Your body moves on its own as a cold feeling encloses around your ankle, freezing you over. The thing laughs at you, like the way you scramble from it is the most hilarious thing it’s ever seen. Your legs wobble and weaken at the frightening sound, but you run steadfast.

The hallways are long and winding. The only light source as you try to figure a way out of the castle is the lighting that crashes through every few seconds. Your sides start hurting after a few minutes of running in circles. Stuck and hurting in an unfamiliar place is not how you want to spend your evening. You slow down to catch your breath, finding yourself in some sort of lounge room. The fireplace burns on, and you realize the sight of these flames brings you no warmth. It only strikes unrelenting fear in you. The room is nicely decorated and homely, like it was never touched by time. The scene almost looks inviting. Almost, if it weren’t for the hauntingly alluring painting watching over you atop the fireplace. The three men face forward and are creepily stiff, jet black hair gelled back and their dark outfits perfect to a fault. The only odd thing is their eerie, sharp smiles that show off their red-stained, shining teeth. Like a wolf’s last warning before they sink their teeth into you.

You’re sort of hypnotized by the pretty strokes, but a voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Little rabbit, why do you run?”

Your legs move on their own once again, but before you can even move an inch, two pairs of arms wrap around you. Their hold is impossibly tight, like they’re still trying to figure out their own limit before they accidentally pop you open. That same voice that laughed at you before is right in your ear now, giggling maniacally and digging their sharp nose into your neck.

They inhale deeply, “Smell that, Yeosang. It’s like nothing I’ve smelled before. Wouldn’t you agree, San?”

The owner of the other voice, San you assume, stands from the dark leather chair facing the fire. He seems otherworldly. Dangerous.

His voice is low, “Little rabbits always smell good.”

The one who you presume to be Yeosang presses himself into you until you’re practically breathing through the same lungs, “Especially when they’re so afraid.”

You shut your eyes in fear when he drags the sharpest canines you’ve ever felt along the warmth of your neck, “Whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want,”

The way your voice shakes only lures San in. He tuts at you, “You shouldn’t make such promises to us, darling.”

You can feel all three streams of breath on you. They’re all overpowering and oppressive in their own way, crushing your resolve until you’re practically jelly at their touch. The two holding you won’t stop nosing into you and exploring you, hands crawling under your shirt and lifting your skirt as if they have no control over themselves. They’re surprised by your warmth, smitten and addicted to it already. It’s something they haven’t really felt before. At least not recently.

Your breath shakes as their cold hands slide over your tummy, “Just-just let me go, I won’t tell anyone what happened. I promise.”

“Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung seems to grow impatient and drags his wet, languid tongue over your pulse point before biting down gently, restraining himself. He savors the salt of your skin, wondering if that’s how your tears taste. Or if they’re even more delectable.

The wetness of his mouth that sticks to your skin sets you on fire. Your skin is tingly, too warm to be yours now. You know he’s marked you somehow because you can feel your entire body burning up, passion and craving reaching limits you’ve never reached.

San bares his fangs and the glint of them takes your breath away, “I told you to be patient,”

“Oh, just smell her, San. I had to taste her,” Wooyoung’s voice is muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

You can feel the heat of his lips crawling up your spine. Yeosang’s hand on your hip leaves a trail of desire everywhere. Everything feels different. Better.

You’re still rational enough to know that something’s not quite right inside of you, “What’s happening to me?”

Your voice is shaky, meek, weak, and San loves it. He can feel his grasp on himself slipping, his mouth salivating at the sight of you being touched and felt.

Ever since their heat began, their bodies only craved you. Out of the hundreds of mindless people in their area, you’re the only one they’ve figured could handle them. There was something about you even they, as supreme beings, couldn’t figure out. They want to keep you as their own personal pet and find out.

Wooyoung is buzzing with energy all over you, “Don’t you feel it? You’re becoming ours,”

Is that what you felt before coming here? Is this where you’re meant to be? Consumed wholly by creatures of the night?

Yeosang’s hand snakes down the band of your skirt, lengthy fingers easily sliding in between your folds. Wooyoung chuckles at your reaction, breathing in your sweet scent, “Little wet rabbit.”

The squelch sounds out into the room and you can hardly believe your ears, “W-wait, please-“

San makes his way to you in two quick strides, suddenly kissing you as if trying to swallow you whole. You feel his voice in the back of your throat, “I can’t take it anymore. I need to ravage you.”

Yeosang’s hand doesn’t stop running over you and playing with your wetness, “I just need to taste you. Just once. Then I’ll stop, rabbit.”

Something happens to you when San’s lips are against you, tongue fighting against yours. Your body surrenders itself to him, to all of the hands that are on you. There isn’t any fear inside of you anymore, in fact, you find the fact that you ever felt any in the first place hilarious. How could you? How could you when Yeosang is so lovingly pleasing you? How could you when Wooyoung is sucking and licking at your neck like it’s a lifeline? How could you when San is kissing you wholly, taking your heart out for himself through your lips? They’re right. This is where you’re supposed to be.

Yeosang can feel the moment you truly surrender yourself to them, the wetness between his fingers overflowing now. He attempts to rub at your bundle of nerves, but grows frustrated when your tight skirt gets in the way of his movements. Before you can say anything, he rips the skirt off you, tearing into the material like it’s nothing to him.

He throws the fabric somewhere into the room before kneeling down in front of you. You’re too enraptured by San’s lips to notice him, and he pouts at that.

Yeosang holds your trembling thighs and licks a long stripe onto your pussy lips, looking up at you with sweet, begging eyes. When you gasp and look down at the feeling of his tongue against you, there’s newfound vigor in his face. Yeosang sucks onto your lips, the taste of you quelling his need. He doesn’t care how messy he gets as he spreads your juices over your thighs and all over his mouth, moaning as he feels how utterly desperate your hole is. He plays with your entrance, trying to figure out what makes your knees buckle. As his lips move to depravely kiss at your clit, you almost fall down with him.

San’s strong arms catch your waist easily, “That’s it, little rabbit. Give yourself to us.”

You nod your head and Wooyoung laughs obnoxiously at your pathetic answer, “Look at the poor thing. She’s sopping wet.”

Yeosang smiles dreamily up at you with your cum on his face. He wipes at his face but it doesn’t do much, the glint shining in the light of the thunderstorm. He licks his lips hungrily, “You taste sweet. Like candy.”

San growls impatiently, bending you over a beautifully carved sofa. You feel bad staining it with your pleasure, but the owners don’t seem to mind. His cock, large and forbidding, presses against your entrance. He leans over your back until his nose reaches that sweet point connecting your jaw and neck. The one that revealed everything about you and your sweetness through your electrifying scent. He feels his addiction grow with every inhalation.

He takes a big breath as his cock finally slides into you, every inch adding onto the tingling satisfaction passing through all of his body as he nestles himself inside of you. His cock has no trouble slipping through the wetness that spills out of you, the moist warmth of your pussy filling his gut with an unfamiliar burn. His hand moves up along the front of your body, grabbing tightly onto your jaw to hold you in place. His sharp claws dig into your blushing cheek.

San fucks you with a barely-there restraint, huffing into your ears as he drills into you. He seems to have forgotten his past hesitance, in fear of scaring you. Now all that’s left is his raw need and desire for you, this intense ache taking over as he continues stretching you open. Your hole feels better than he ever could imagine, ever could bear. Every squeeze you give sends him reeling, his gut tightening with every thrust.

Wooyoung replaces San’s hand on your jaw, puckering your lips and laughing as your entire body jolts against San. He bares his fangs with a wide smile, razor-sharp and primed for poaching. He licks down your neck, savoring the taste of your humanity, your beating heart. The constant song within you is entrancing.

Wooyoung can’t resist. His canines sink into your shoulder, his eyes rolling back into his head when he finally gets a taste of the real you. It’s exhilarating, dizzying. Frenzied and fervent now, Wooyoung licks at the fresh wound he’s made, the tiniest dribble of red trickling down. Every one of your liquids is just so, so intoxicating.

He feels the effects of you, “My delicious pet rabbit. Mine, mine, mine.”

You whine against Wooyoung as your mind is clouded with pleasure and pain, San’s thick cock still hitting deeper and sparking your gummy walls with an intense gratification. There’s a meek voice in the back of your head telling you to wake up, but it’s quickly drowned out as Yeosang kisses slow, lithe kisses along the skin of your opposite shoulder. He’s watching as you’re treated like a piece of meat by San, teary-eyed and trembling, and can’t believe he’s ever gone without you. Without the smell of your heady, inflaming sex filling his senses or the sight of your abused, puffy pussy.

He takes another giant breath in of your rousing scent before biting down, his canines piercing you just as Wooyoung’s did. Yeosang shudders at the taste of you, a bright, addicting flavor. You’re simply made for them.

He mutters as you moan against him, “What a slutty little rabbit you are.”

The second Yeosang’s fangs rip through you, San fills your gummy walls. His cum marks and ruins you for anyone else. He growls animalistically against you as you tighten and squeeze, biting into his fist and drawing enough blood that it drips down from his arm onto your back. He still tries to hold back for you. Even in his most raw and savage, with his hips still moving and deliriously fucking his cum back into you and making a mess, he tries not to cause you pain. Not anymore at least.

San’s gravelly voice reaches down to your bones, his entire body tightening up against you as more and more cum jolts into you, “There you go, little rabbit. Stuffed full. Don’t you feel better?”

You feel it dripping between your thighs. The pearlescent liquid that used to make you feel scandalized, demeaned. It gives you a purpose now, to be used as their rabbit. Their meal to be devoured.

[slvt4g0re]

❛ 𝐓𝐎 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃 ❜

♱ // paul x fem!reader

♱ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 // hunting equals blood and blood equals life. but when blood refuses to satisfy your hunger, you turn to your rocker boyfriend, who looks good enough to eat.

♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 // 2k

♱ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 // smut, porn with plot, bite kink, slight dom/sub undertones, climax without actual act, and bloodkink

♱ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 // came up with this on the fly and immediately started writing it.

blood was blood. sure, some humans tasted better than others, but when you broke humans down to their simplest components, humans were nothing. they were walking piles of meat with a bloodstream. blood pumping through their veins, just screaming at you to sink your fangs into them and drain them of the life they so desperately tried to cling onto. humans were disposable. they were nothing more than a walking blood bag that lived to satisfy you and your hunger.

you had been hunting a long time, long before any of your vampire companions. well, everyone besides max who had existed for longer than anyone else.

marko and paul spent their nights partying and spending their nights terrorizing the locals, much to your and david’s dismay. dwayne spent the time out of the cave with laddie, who was always dragging the man to some new shop or fair ride. david and star spent their night far, far away from everyone else doing things you didn’t even want to know.

and while everyone did their own thing, you spent you time waiting, watching. your gaze would sweep over human after human while you sat on the railings of the boardwalk. every time a human got close enough, your nose would sniff, trying to catch the scent that once made your mouth water.

but every human, every scent of blood, it made your stomach turn with a feeling you hadn’t felt since before the turn. whatever sat in your stomach, which was most likely some sugar filled treat that laddie practically forced you to eat, threatened to rise.

it had been days, almost a week since you last fed. you could tell the others were worried, they didn’t ask, didn’t pry, but the looks they sent you spoke words they didn’t dare say. especially your lover, paul. every day, when the sun set and the moon rose, he’d try to get you to go hunting, try to get you to drink some random person’s blood, but it never worked.

you couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong with you. the mere thought of drinking blood made your stomach churn violently, and you found yourself drawn to something else entirely - or rather, someone else. your eyes kept drifting to paul, watching the way he moved, the way his scent called to you in a way that blood no longer did.

paul’s scent, weed mixed with his cologne filled your nostrils every time you got close. his scent had become a comfort to you, but slowly, it had started to become something more.

you could hear his blood flowing through his veins like never before. his blood, o negative, you could tell by the smell. it made your throat burn and your mouth water, just like human blood had before.

every time you looked at paul, the urge to taste his blood grew stronger. you found yourself staring at his neck more and more, imagining how sweet his blood would taste on your tongue. paul had noticed your lingering gazes, but he mistook them for something else entirely - if only he knew the hunger that was truly consuming you.

“find anyone decent enough?” marko’s voice snapped you from your thoughts as he and paul strutted with the strut that screamed danger.

“what did you two do?” you questioned, raising a brow at their cocky walks and large smirks.

“nothing we haven’t done before,” marko shrugged, leaning back on the railing beside you while paul took a stand in front of you, his hands immediately finding your plush hips.

“so, find anyone worth your while?” paul questioned, his fingers squeezing your hips.

to anyone passing, the question sounded dirty, explicit. but to the three of you, it meant something completely different.

you breathed through your nose, inhaling oxygen your body didn’t need. god. there it was again. the addictive scent of paul’s blood.

“no.” you answered shortly, sealing your lips tightly as you felt your fangs begin to itch. your throat burned, like it was set on fire.

paul's brows furrowed in concern, his grip on your hips tightening ever so slightly. "babe, you need to feed," he whispered, voice low enough that only you and marko could hear. you couldn't help but lean forward, drawn to the pulsing vein in his neck that seemed to call your name.

“i’m aware,” you quickly leaned back and pushed yourself off the railing to take a stand. as your feet hit the ground, your legs seemed to buckle. something they hadn’t done since you were living.

paul was quick to catch you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. "that's it," he declared firmly, exchanging a worried look with marko. "we're getting you something to eat right now, whether you like it or not."

“it’s no use,” you muttered, gripping the muscles of paul’s arms. “you two go do whatever it is you do. i’m going back to the cave.” you went to move, but paul’s grip tightened.

"not happening," paul growled, his grip on you becoming almost possessive. "something's wrong with you, and i'm not letting you out of my sight until we figure out what it is." his blue eyes bore into yours, and you had to fight the urge to stare at his neck again, your fangs aching in your gums.

“then come back to the cave with me,” your eyes stared at his neck, at the beautiful veins that seemed more prominent then usual. “either way, i’m going.”

paul's eyes flickered between yours and marko's before he nodded, his grip still firm on your waist. "alright, let's go." as you both headed towards the cave, you could feel your control slipping with every passing second, the sound of paul's blood rushing through his veins becoming impossible to ignore.

the ride back to the cave was nothing but excruciating. the wind whipping your hair in every direction, specks of sand being thrown at you from being ran over by motorcycle wheels, the nausiating smell of surfernazis as you zoomed past. but that wasn’t even the worst part. the way your chin rested on the spot where paul’s neck and shoulder connected and the way your mouth was right next to his pulse point, it was torture.

his steady pulse thrummed against your lips, each beat sending waves of desperate hunger through your entire being. you gripped his leather jacket tighter, trying to ground yourself, but paul's blood sang to you like a siren's call. when the motorcycle finally came to a stop outside the cave entrance, you practically launched yourself off, stumbling a few steps away from paul as you tried to regain what little control you had left.

“you okay?” paul questioned, quickly ending the engine and stepping off. “babe?” he questioned again when you stayed silent, moving quickly into the cave.

you shook your head, trying to clear the fog of hunger that clouded your mind. the cave walls seemed to spin as you made your way deeper inside, paul's footsteps echoing behind you. his scent grew stronger in the enclosed space, and you could feel your control slipping away with each passing second.

“paul,” you spoke, though it sounded more like a growl. a predatory growl. “i need you.”

“you sure you’re in the right headspace?” paul moved closer to you as the two of you entered the main part of the cave. “i’m not saying no. i’d never say no, especially not to you.” he quickly added upon seeing your accusatory gaze. “but are you sure?”

you stared at paul in a way you never had before and the man would be lying if he said it didn’t excite him. “are you going to stand there and question me or are you going to take me to our room and fuck me?”

it was the perfect excuse for you to finally taste paul’s blood. it was innocent enough. paul had a bite kink, it was something he had never hidden before. so maybe, just maybe, you’d accidently bite too hard and draw a little blood.

paul practically growled at your words, his hands finding your hips once more as he guided you towards your shared room. the hunger within you intensified with every step, your fangs now fully extended and aching for a taste. as paul's lips found yours in a heated kiss, you knew there would be no turning back from what you were about to do.

as the two of you stumbled, literally, into your room, leaving behind different pieces of clothes and garments, your body felt like a ticking time bomb.

as you approached the mattress that you never used for things besides explicit moments, you easily took control, grasping paul’s shoulders and giving him a shove that might’ve been harsher than necessary, but you couldn’t have cared less.

before you could control yourself, your tighs straddled his hips while you lips found paul’s neck, leaving behind wet marks and small bites. “shit, babe.” paul hissed as he threw his head back, his hands squeezing your hips tightly that would’ve caused bruises if you had been mortal.

another perk of being vampires, neither of you had to worry about using too much force or being too rough.

your tongue licked a stripe up paul's neck, collecting the sweat that had gathered there. the taste only made your hunger grow stronger, fangs scraping against his skin in warning. paul moaned beneath you, completely unaware of the dangerous precipice you both stood upon.

“paul, shit, please,” you all but whimpered, lips just above his pulse point.

“please what?” paul questioned, his voice breathily. he was a tease, you knew that. but now wasn’t a time for teasing.

“let me bite you,” you panted out, hips rutting against paul’s.

paul's hands gripped your thighs tighter as he nodded frantically, giving you the permission you so desperately craved. without hesitation, your fangs sank deep into his flesh, and the moment his blood touched your tongue, you moaned at the intoxicating taste - sweeter and more satisfying than any human blood you'd ever tasted. paul's shocked gasp quickly turned into a deep groan of pleasure as you drank deeply, his blood filling you with a warmth that made your entire body sing.

euphoric. that’s the only word you could use to describe the feeling that invaded your body. your body was on fire, burning from the inside out, but it felt so good.

paul's blood was unlike anything you had ever tasted before - it was pure ecstasy flowing through your veins, healing every ache and satisfying every craving you'd been fighting. you could feel his hands gripping you tighter, his body arching beneath yours as you continued to drink, lost in the intoxicating mixture of blood and pleasure.

as you whimpered and moaned, mouth still attached to paul’s neck, a familiar knot grew in your stomach. the feeling was all-consuming, something you had experienced plenty of times in your decades with paul.

it only took a few more seconds of drinking paul's intoxicating blood before your entire body tensed, waves of pleasure washing over you as you reached your peak. paul followed shortly after, his grip on your thighs bruising as he moaned your name. as you finally pulled away from his neck, your tongue lazily licking the wound closed, you could feel the strength returning to your body - paul's blood had been exactly what you needed all along.

“all you had to do was ask, baby,” paul panted, chest heaving as he placed his forehead on the top of your breasts, warm breathing fanning over the cleavage.

you hummed in contentment, still riding the high of his blood coursing through your system. "i was afraid you'd reject me," you admitted softly, nuzzling into his neck where the bite marks were already healing. paul's arms wrapped around you protectively, pulling you closer against his chest as he chuckled.

“who would i be to deny you?” paul quiet laughter filled the air.

[evvyyypeters-fics]

Forbidden Fruit

William ‘Spike’ Pratt x f!reader

Word count: 5k+

Warnings: smut, pnv, period sex, Spike is a munch, porn w/ plot (sort of), absolutely feral shit, filthy, toe-curling bloody sex with the slutty bad-boy vampire himself, cringe, very specific characterization of Y/N, possible OOC Spike? (idk it's kind of hard to write a British accent lowkey), lots of banter, only like two uses of Y/N, mentions of Xander Harris, idk what else to add--that's it ig. It's some down-bad aah shi ok?

Author's note: My first fic in a whilleeee, hyperfixations always get me motivated. I’m back for now, but only to rant about my latest obsession. I'm actually surprised there was no period sex in BTVS. I mean for a pretty progressive y2k show about sweaty vampire romance and killing and there's not even an implication of periods let alone period sex? Not even a little quip or comment? Either that was too taboo even for BTVS or the writers weren't creative enough to think outside the box. (Either way, I come to serve the people).

It’s already been three days since Spike had that muzzle installed in his head. He refuses to stop complaining about it, and I don’t entirely blame the guy. Technically speaking, for a vampire, being physically modified to prevent the most natural of their instincts is like being forcefully castrated like some wild animal. Sure, it might be for the better and greater good, but it’s still sure to cause some discomfort and distress to said subject. Especially if they are a malicious, murdering monster and not a horny puppy. Though, when it comes to Spike, two things can be true at once.

Having to hand-feed the bound Spike with a mug of blood decorated with a straw was not on my list of things to do this month, that was for sure. But spending time with Spike turned out not to be all that terrible after all. If I just ignore his whining about being hungry because Giles and Buffy only allow him to eat a cup full of animal blood every day, he becomes quite the personality to be around. Specifically when he’s threatening what he’ll do when he eventually gets the chip out of his head and comes back to murder us all in cold blood in that casual, suave British tone that he makes sound so serious. But I know that he’s just bark and no bite now. The Scoobies agreed to keep pathetic Spike around for now since he has some information on the strange men who have been popping up around demon-hunting-related rendezvous, which of course cursed me with the duty of watching and taking care of him while they were off and living in their separate worlds. Separate from mine at least, as I practically lived at Giles’s house now to make sure the new pet dog didn’t get loose from his leash.

Today would have been just like any other day had I not conveniently gotten my period around the time I began babysitting the blood-sucking fiend. A few more days and I may have been relinquished of my duties from the bloodsucker, but alas, I would just have to hope that vampire senses were also a misconception, just like sleeping in a coffin during the day.

“Leavin’ you all alone again with the big bad, eh pet?” He croons, an all too familiar sly smile on his face as I enter the bathroom and pull up a chair a few feet away from him. He jokingly lunges forward and reaches his hands out, trying to scare me. But I barely jump before the chains holding them tight to the clawfoot tub hold him back.

“Funny,” I reply sarcastically, bemused by his behavior. “Are you going to do this all night? Or shall I ask Giles if I can chloroform you for a few hours just so I can get you out of my hair for once?” Crossing my arms as I sit back in the highly uncomfortable chair.

“Well, if you’re looking to shut me up, I have a few ideas on how to…remedy the issue.” Devious as always.

“And that would be?” I question, subtly quirking my brow.

He scoffs and flops back dramatically into the tub, rolling his eyes. “Well, what do you think, love?” He turns his gaze back to me, seemingly a little annoyed I couldn’t pick up on his non-obvious signals.

I continue sitting silently in the chair, my face scrunching into a more scrutinizing look as he stares me down, waiting for me to figure it out and answer. “What?” I ask offendedly as he scrutinizes me with his eyes.

“Blood you nitwit! I’m bloody starvin’ here!” He sighs exasperatedly, a slight growl in the back of his tone. “No pun intended—” His face drops softer as he quickly chimes, adding as he raises one finger in a dramatized gesture.

“You look fine to me.” I mock him, flickering a smile. “I mean, besides looking a little pale, but that’s just your regular Tuesday, now isn’t it?” He grits his teeth and turns his head, acting as if he wanted to strangle me with the way his hands flexed.

“Besides, we ran out. Xander was asked to pick some more up from the butcher’s earlier, and he probably won’t be back until way later like the others.” I added, though not kindly. “Seems you’re always hungry and sucked your own supply dry. You’re lucky any of us even bother to feed you.”

“Well, I am your hostage, love. Not a torture victim.” His annoyance is almost as amusing as his failed attempts to intimidate me now that he can’t actually hurt me.

“I mean, you always could be. That is if you don’t start talking.” I shrugged.

“I told you guys, I’m not talkin’ until I’m ensured that the chip will be removed.” He leans his head back against the edge of the tub defeatedly.

“Well you know that’s not happening any time soon, so you might as speak up now before we change our minds and kill you for it. I’m sure Buffy would love to do the honors.” I smirk at him, and I can see the flash of fear in his eyes as he foolishly tries to hide it behind his indifferent and sarcastic demeanor. “Though, at the end of the day, we might not need you after all. So, might as well make yourself useful.”

He groans with a slight growl in defiance, rolling his head against the edge of the tub before sighing exasperatedly. Finally convinced, he turns his head back to me and nods in my direction.

“Al’right, I’ll talk. But I want somethin’ to eat first.” A hidden grin appears on his face as if he’s caught me in some sort of loophole.

“I just told you we don’t have anything right now. You’ll have to wait until Xander gets back.”

“Well that’s not entirely true, now is it, love?” He says, a strange puppy-dog-eyed gleam in his look.

“What are you even talking about? I just told you we don’t have any blood left. It’s not like you can bite me or anything, you little chip-thing-a-ma-bobery will give you a nuclear headache.”

“That’s not what I meant, love.” He smirks at my innocence.

Oh.

I go still and silent when the realization hits, my confused and slightly offended expression drops and I stare at him blankly. He looks back at me with another sly smile on his face, enjoying my flustered reaction and waiting for me to respond to the inappropriate request.

“I was hoping the whole wolf-smell thing was another written exaggeration.” I finally spoke out, breaking the moment of silence that was a little suffocating to me.

“You hope or you wish?” He asks, raising a curious brow back at me, still beaming with that stupid smirk.

“Does it matter?” I ask rhetorically, aggravated and annoyed with him now.

“Not to me.” He shakes his head and purses his lips. Liar, of course, he said it to piss me off. Trying to convince me that I wanted him to know as if it wasn’t the farthest from the truth. But a part of me was somewhat grossly keen on the idea. But only faintly.

“Well, seems you’re just going to keep starving until Xander gets back. I can wait as long as we need for you to either talk now or be patient. And by that point, Buffy and the gang should be back in time to hear what you have to say too.” I put my foot down, smiling a silent proud grin as he gives me a look that mimics if I had just stuck my shoe in his mouth.

He rolls over in the tub defeatedly again, and I take the time of his moping to grab a magazine and flip through it. Making sure that I turn over each page with an annoying crinkle so that he knows my presence is still there, even as he attempts to nap, which most likely is just his attempt at pretending to sleep so that I’ll consider not breaking the silence with the annoying slice of loud paper wringing through the not-so-cozy acoustic bathroom. Which of course didn’t work on me.

For some reason, it began to feel like the Scoobies had been gone forever, and it was still dark outside. I kept checking the clock every few minutes even though it had felt like an hour each time. Normally when I babysat Spike the time seemed to go by quite quickly. It must be the subtly charged silence as I keep praying the minutes start passing quicker. Not even the books and magazines were helping it drive by. At the same time, I realized that my cramps were starting to worsen and I wanted to cry. Partially from the pain, but mainly because today felt like the worst day. The timing is so perfect it’s painful. Having to watch Spike the neutered dog while everyone is away, getting my period a few hours earlier, the worsening cramps, the hours seemingly taking forever to pass. Maybe it’s another demon who's playing tricks on me to drive me crazy with my worst nightmares. I’m sure something like that exists.

Spike hears the soft hitch of my pained breath as I clutch my abdomen, cupping my angry uterus lashing out at me. I try to keep the book in my hand steady and pretend I’m not in an infuriating amount of pain, focusing my eyes away from Spike as he turns in my direction.

“You alright there, pet?” He asks in a tender, concerned tone. But as I raise my eyes to him, I catch the shit-eating grin on his face that’s just dying to tell me ‘I told you so’.

“Yes, I’m fine actually. No thanks to you. I don’t need any of your help.” I grit my teeth to keep my voice from wobbling and revealing the absolute pain clawing at my insides.

“You sure? You seem to be strugglin’ a bit. You know, I heard that—”

“Just shut up, Spike! I know what you’re trying to do.” I hiss at him, stopping him before he could finish the sentence. I could feel the burn of my cheeks a little as they flushed.

“And what is it exactly that I’m tryin’ to do, love?” He asks, a faux offensive tone as he sits up a little higher and leans against the tub.

“Don’t play coy with me, Spike.”

“Your pouty face is so cute, Y/N. Do you know that?”

“Stop trying to be charming. It’s not working.” I slide away the magazine and cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the burning pain still coursing through my lower body.

“Oh, it isn’t? Well, my bad then. Excuse me for sayin’ anything.” He says sarcastically and annoyed, defeated again, giving up as he turns over once more and sinks deeper into the tub.

“Good.”

“Fine, then.” He pouts.

“Fine.”

I nod, pepping myself to refrain from talking with him anymore about this. Moving my focus to the boiling pain that is becoming harder to ignore. I think of every remedy I can to relieve the pain without having to get up because I have a feeling if I tried, I would keel right over. And then Spike would take his most glorious opportunity to run away, and I couldn’t risk that. So I sat in a longer and drawn-out silence than before trying to persevere through the pain.

My gaze flickers to Spike occasionally without thought, catching glimpses from the back of his radioactive blonde hair before dropping once more to the book in front of me. As waves of pain crashed through me I start to wonder if it would truly be that bad to take up on his offer. I mean, he says he will talk if he has some food, and Xander obviously won’t be here for a while. Alongside the rest of everyone else, so if I indulged him, it’s not like anyone would catch us. And say he didn’t give the information up, well I’d still benefit, and we’d probably kill him anyway. It’s a fully ensured mutually beneficial deal, well, swinging towards one way more than the other—but the schematics of it all doesn’t really matter. Not will the sharp throb of abdominal pain making my thoughts stutter and my brain swirl.

Frustrated, I throw the book to the floor and stand up, raising myself above Spike.

“Alright,” I state sternly. “You say you’ll talk if you have something to eat?” I question him–more like interrogate.

He turns his head to me, slightly startled by my jumping up, and possibly the fact that I seem to be agreeing to his terms. He doesn’t have that shit-eating-want-to-punch-him-in-the-face-bastard-smirk on his face, and that makes for something.

“Just a snack is al’right.” He says eloquently, shrugging. “Then I’ll tell you all you want to know. ‘Swear on my grave, love.” He peers up at me through his brow bone, his eyes latching onto mine with their dark depths. Something in that look makes me fold, it seems so genuine and raw.

“Oh well that’s promising,” I scoff sarcastically.

Nerves swim in my stomach as I become flustered with the realization of what I’ve just agreed to. I stand there for a moment before him, nearing close to the edge of the tub.

“You just going to stand there, pet? Y’know, if you unchained me I could help you a little—” He offers, a small grin hidden on his face as he snaps me out of my trance.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. We’re doing this my way.” I scold him as I start to unbutton my jeans. Spike catches my hands with his gaze as soon as they pop open the metal button and his eyes flash. I try to pretend that his gaze isn’t burning through me as I begin to shimmy them down to my ankles, but it’s no use.

“Are you just going to keep staring?” I ask, gritting my teeth a bit to hide the shyness, despite my obvious flushed cheeks.

“Well, what else am I suppose’ to do, love? Not watch the show? Besides, there are more embarrassing things that—”

“That’s enough from you.” I stop him mid-sentence, pressing my index finger to his lips and he smiles quietly against it. God, he’s just thoroughly enjoying this isn’t he? I’d regret to admit it’s turning me on. Especially with that look in his eyes, watching me like I’m the best thing he’s seen in weeks. Which technically speaking, could be true.

It was difficult to find positioning given the small space of the tub that he was totally overtaking.I was starting to regret not taking off the cuffs for him, but I knew (hoped) it would be better in the long wrong. Who knows, maybe that’s what he wanted me to do all along. Though, would it have mattered at this point? My mind was too far stretched to care even if he did, but I was too preoccupied with the look on his pale face to bother removing them anyway.

Positioning my bare, bleeding core over his mouth, his eyes are locked onto it hungrily. Something in his gaze made it unclear if he was entranced by the blood or my body, and regardless it was making my skin feel slightly hot. His lips drained of color from his forced diet, parted readily as I hovered, his tongue practically lolling as he begged silently for me to lean closer. Cautiously, I tempted him. Lowering myself closer towards his lips, it was a warm and inviting feeling, surprisingly gentler than I expected from him. Soft, experimental kitten licks as he explores the fleshy fat of my labia majora, wiping away any mess as he circled closer to my engorged clit. My whole body felt like it was pulsing, I could only watch him from below me with blown, wide eyes. Skin flushed and rosy from the sensation of his tongue darting out and licking stripes, as if savoring the taste. Seems he likes playing with his food after all. I found myself subconsciously pressing closer into his mouth and I only notice when he lets out a low moan in response, his lips pursing to press a kiss to my clit, making sure to catch my eyes as he sucks on it gently. A gentle popping sound rings as he removes his lips and licks a fat stripe with his tongue across my entrance, blood lingering across it. His lips were already stained from drool and arousal, mixed with the faint hue of blood.

I always thought vampires were disgusting, evil creatures, I couldn’t imagine how blood could be enjoyable. Even for a vampire. Especially when it came to Spike and Angel. I couldn’t wrap my head around it, which is why it’s already so confusing for me as to why I’d agree to him like this. But seeing the look of my blood covering his mouth, and the expression painted on his face of pure bliss. I understand a little more now.

Spike grins against me for a moment when I shudder after he flicks his tongue on my clit aggressively, becoming a little more bold.

“I thought you were going to eat my blood, not mess around.” I accuse him, trying to keep my voice steady and stern as before, but it still cracked anyway.

“I’m just enjoying the moment, love. You agreed because you want to feel good too, isn’t that right, pet?” He asks cheekily, his voice vibrating against me and I almost fall over from the trembling that shocks my knees, finding balance in gripping my hands in his gelled hair. Wait, did he say ‘too’?

“N-No more talking,” I say breathily and Spike beams once more, even more amused than before as he goes back to his ministrations.

He doesn’t seem to mind as I claw into his scalp, messing up his meticulously done hair. If anything he seems to enjoy it as he laps faster into my cunt, sucking out any of the blood that leaks forth, dribbling down his chin. My legs start to feel sticky as the blood starts to dry down them, which prompts Spike to lick stripes up my thighs to wipe it away, savoring every single drop as if he couldn’t possibly waste it.

I can feel the waves of pleasure reach higher inside of me as he focuses on my clit every few moments before plunging his tongue into me, twisting it and moving it in ways I didn’t know were even possible, and making me feel in ways I hadn’t even imagined. I couldn’t help the progressive yelp of moans that slipped past my lips, melting into the pleasure. I hadn’t even noticed that the cramps had almost completely subsided from how quickly I had gotten caught up. My hands went from gripping his hair painfully tight to massaging his scalp, and he purred just like a cat about it. The vibrations of his voice and breath against me brushed just right, pushing me closer to the edge. He looked even more like a puppy, being helpless bound, chained, and all, trying so hard to please me and get his fill.

“S-Shit…” I gasped quietly, my eyes squeezing shut. I could just feel the cocky grin on his face. But when I open my eyes to look, his expression is anything but. He looks almost dazed, mindlessly focused on lapping and kissing me clean of blood, utterly lost in the taste of me. His eyes were practically glittering as he stared up at me, his gaze unbreaking. Sweet blood mixed with arousal that made his skin tingle warmly. It was driving him mad, he looked more starved than he had before. As if he had been holding back how badly he wanted it, or maybe as soon as he had a taste he was overcome with the full extent of his hunger.

The look alone was getting me closer but mixed with the quick flicks and broad stripes of his tongue working closer, harder, faster against me. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I clasped a hand over my mouth as I cried out a little louder, my hips stuttering as they shook against his face, a gush of arousal I hadn’t known I had in me came out and he relished it.

He didn’t stop, continuing to slurp away, a little more intensely now. Overstimulating me with a purpose. I squealed, gripping tighter onto his blonde hair, now a mess. I don’t know how I kept my balance with the way my legs shook as wave of orgasm after orgasm crashed into me before he finally gave up, slowing down with gentle licks and kisses around my clit and upper thighs. I was heaving and on the brink of breathlessness, my throat becoming sore from the cries I rang out.

He leans his head back farther to gauge my expression better, darting his tongue to the corners of his bloodied lips that he licks away. “That better?” He asks, still being cheeky. I just nod silently, basically speechless.

“Good.” He tilts his head. “You should have told me sooner how delicious your blood is,”

“I hadn’t realized ‘til now,” I respond in a breathless tone.

“Still catty after all that, eh love?” The idiot smirks. Though, I couldn’t hate him for it. He was looking exceptionally prettier than usual. I chalked it up to the hormones coursing through me, still blissed from the consecutive orgasms.

“So…did the pain stop…love?” He asks, slightly shy. Which was a little surprising. Spike, a vampire who attempted to suck me dry of period blood, getting nervous over asking me about my cramps? Or maybe he wasn’t shy. There was something tender about his expression.

I shake my head. A lie. But one couldn’t hurt. Technically speaking, the pain had stopped, or at least numbed to a dull ache, but I still ached over something else.

“I see…” He responds his voice a low drawl that sent a shiver down my spine. “What shall we do about that?” He asks rhetorically, thinking. Something about the way he says it makes me think he’s already caught onto my lie but doesn’t want to call me out. However, it could just be my guilty conscious making things up.

“Aren’t you full though?” I ask, my lame attempt at segueing smoothly.

“Could it be you’re needin’ something else, love?” He asks, cracking that same grin again I had been waiting for, dragging his lips over my thighs as he places a tender kiss. His stark gaze continued to stare deeper into mine, not allowing me to break away from it. His tone is clear with innuendo.

I finally break free of his eyes, glancing away nervously, not knowing how to respond to him without sending pathetic.

“Well, if we’re going to do that, you’re unfortunately going to have to unchain me, love.” My eyes quickly snap to him.

“Absolutely not. You know I’m not doing that.” I say sternly.

“You might not have a choice.” He says, pulling at the chains that bound his hands close together and prevented me from getting anywhere close to him comfortably and I sighed to myself. Having to decide between giving up or risking unchaining him for a while. Weighing the pros and cons for a moment, I conclude that if he tried to escape it wouldn’t matter, but from the visible strain in his pants that I noticed, I recognized that he likely wouldn’t try. Regardless, I still didn’t trust him when I began to unshackle him.

He flexes his wrists for a moment, rubbing at the chaff marks. Before I can say anything he pulls at my waist and drags me into the tub, keeping me from hurting during the fall. I gasped before I landed and when I turn my head I catch a new stupid, cheesy smile on his face. He doesn’t speak or make any taunting remark, instead, he presses a tender kiss to my lips and I meet the mingling taste of cigarettes mixed with what I assumed was my own blood and arousal in his mouth. The soft, playful kisses turned into something more hungry and we were quickly meeting each other at a desperate pace. He was practically eating my face as I kissed him, and I returned the same energy. Allowing myself to let go and lean into his touch, turning myself and splaying my hands over his chest, my hips hovering over his as his hands explore up from my waist to my back. The hands running up and down the hot flesh trail their way into the base of my hair, cradling my head closer. I had underestimated the lack of breath vampires had when I had to fight to pull back to gasp for air between kisses.

We mutually grind ourselves together as the kisses become passionate, my hips roll against the thankfully black fabric of his pants (though I’m sure he wouldn’t care to begin with), and his buck up and grind against me in return. The bare friction of my core against the coarse fabric of his pants became a mix of pain and pleasure that left me searching for more. Impatience took over me, and Spike latched his kisses onto my neck and jaw as I reached back and freed him from his briefs. His hands were too busy squeezing my breasts and flesh to help me, holding me close.

Wasting no time, I sink onto him, my cunt swallowing him whole with a mutual sigh between us. My breath hitches in my throat again as I feel the full stretch, reaching to my cervix with a gentle kiss of his tip. Our chests heave against each other rapidly, my breasts pressing against his chest and rubbing against my shirt with their hardened peaks, sensitive to the softest graze. I lift my head from his shoulder to kiss him again, catching a glimpse of his dazed expression. He looked even more drunk on arousal than he had earlier and I questioned if that was even possible. I didn’t spend time staring, holding a hand to his cheek to pull him into another fiery kiss as I began to grind my hips. He groans into my mouth, choked moans leaving his mouth gaping for me to slip my tongue in. He responds and our tongues battle as he wraps his arms around my waist, his hips gradually bucking up into me without abandon.

It only takes a few minutes before we’re both completely worked up and he bullies my cervix, his tip aggressively hitting all the way back with each thrust. His arms held me in place to keep me from running as if I would even want to or could with the way that my head was completely numb. Zero thoughts running through my brain other than the intense pleasure coursing through every nerve in my body that was painfully active. He lets out multiple erotic sounds from deep in his chest, especially so when we break from kissing occasionally so we can nibble on each other. I pull at his earlobe while his tongue slides over my neck, desperately wanting to bite me for sure. Despite the clear loss of his inhibitions, he doesn’t attempt it.

The blood that continues to leak from my cervix only acts as extra lube, and causes a mess on both of our thighs, leaking down from his cock and splattering with each slap of our skin. The smell of blood and sex begins to linger in the air, even more so with the bathroom door closed. The sounds coming from us were filthy and if I weren’t lost in lust, it’d be embarrassing. But for the moment, it was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard, music to my ears. I was feral, and it seems that so was he.

I wasn’t even fully aware of what was happening until I clawed into his shoulders, my hands slipping from the back of his hair as a new orgasm crashed over me. I don’t even remember when our shirts fell to the floor, but I had wasted no time clawing up his back apparently as the skin was almost scratched raw. Sweat glittered on our skin, shining from the bright white light in the bathroom. He hadn’t stopped at the clear cry of my orgasm, continuing to buck up into me madly, reaching his own high. I finished once more, this time he followed pursuit, feeling the warmth of seed flowing into me. His thrusts pausing in a staccato pattern. Post-bliss buzzes through us and I lean my head into his shoulder as I find my breath once more. I don’t want to move, feeling too limp to attempt to get off him.

Though, I quickly change my mind when I hear the familiar sound of the front door opening. My body jolts out of its daze and I quickly fling myself off of Spike, throwing him back his clothes.

“Shit!” I hiss, half-hazardly pulling my clothes back on, my pad still attached to my underwear as I slide them up. During the quick minute, we were lucky no one came in, and I take the extra 30 seconds to make sure I don’t look too disheveled before I step out of the bathroom. Hoping that I can distract everyone from checking on Spike before he can put his clothes back on the way they were. As well as fix the mess of his hair I had made.

Everyone seems to be distracted and discussing something when I step out of the bathroom and gently close the door behind me, guarding it a moment before stepping forward when everyone turns their head to my presence.

“Y/N!” Xander chimes with a stupid friendly smile. “How’d it go with fangless? He bore the shit out of you again?” He asks, taunting me a little.

I nod, smiling and trying to act normal. But it feels as if they can already tell something is off. “Yeah, definitely! Man, how I hate that guy!”

There’s a moment of awkward silence between everyone as we pause, unsure of how to deal with the clear tension in the room.

“So, I’m guessing you guys were fighting and that’s why you look like that.” Anya points out bluntly.

I can feel my cheeks burn a little as I realize why everyone is looking at me so confused, trying to keep my face from turning too red.

“Yeah. That’s what happened. Don’t worry, I took care of him. I think he might actually be willing to talk now.”

“I’m sure you did,” Buffy added with slight suspicion in her tone. “Make sure to talk to him then if he’s ready.” She nods, changing the topic as she goes back to talking about whatever it was they were discussing before that I had no interest in at the moment.

As soon as Buffy says something I notice a flash of held laughter on everyone’s faces, even if they do know, nobody seems to care too much. Though, I can feel the judgment, only a little. But at this point, I don’t have the energy to care.

Taglsit (you can be added or removed at any point. If you used to be on my taglist and don’t see your username, let me know so I can update it. Same goes for if you want to be removed):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @americanwh0rerstory @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch @n0tonlin3

[bump1nthen1ght]

The Family Jewels (Pt. 3/4)

Pairing: M!Vampire!Father-In-Law x F!Reader x M!Vampire!Husband

Genre: Regency, Gothic, Dark, Yandere, Pining

Chapter Summary: You didn't think your new home could become any stranger. Shadows have started to follow you, the night no longer the safe haven it once was. It leads you to the one person who may be able to help.

Series Warnings: Obsessive + Controlling Behavior, Fucked up Family Dynamics, Confinement, Misogyny, Future Non-Con, Degradation, Angst, Jealousy

Chapter Warnings: Stalking, Isolation, Slight Infantilization of Reader

A/N: The penultimate chapter 👀. Had a lot of fun with this series and I hope y'all have too! Last Chapter should be coming out sometime later this week/early this week. It's gonna be quite a doozy 😈

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

You think someone is watching you.

You didn’t think the eeriness of your home could be more uncomfortable, but the unmistakable feeling of attention has made it so. Only worsened by the fact you have no understanding of whose attention it is. Your first thought was perhaps the staff, but you can’t imagine months of your droll day-to-day life would suddenly gain their attention. Not when they skirt around you, ignoring all attempts to make conversations or eye contact, just as they’ve always done.

You’d learned to enjoy the solitude of your home, to be content with your own company. Reading, wandering the grounds, pondering the sky was now your beloved routine, not a prison of listlessness. But now you whip your head around at the slightest shadow. Something prickles on the back of your neck at odd moments, uneasy shivers coming down your spine when you turn the corner, your fight-or-flight instincts expecting something there.

The only other two options would be your father-in-law and your husband. The prior is an obvious no, well aware he confines himself to his study during the day so he may work in peace. The latter is absent during the daytime, supposedly sticking to his habit of sleeping with the sun, so you’re left with no clues.

To make it all worse is the fact that your husband has been present for dinner lately; Every night for the past week, to be precise. It seems to be the one meal he deems worthy of being awake for. But you figured that this was another kink to get used too, surely a momentary lapse before he returned to the routine.

But then he started talking to you.

—

“Was your day enjoyable?”

Your husband opened with, as if this was a normal dinner and you were in a normal marriage.

You hesitate to respond, convincing yourself that you had misheard one of the servants. Caleb isn’t even looking you in the eye, focused instead on cutting his steak.

“Well?” He juts in, right before taking a large bite. It's only then you realize it was in fact him speaking and in fact you who he was speaking to.

“I suppose so.” You finally deign as a well enough response. A suitably polite answer. “It was nothing remarkable.”

“Hmm.” He says, chewing on his wad of meat as he takes a sip of that curious wine of his. You return to your food, figuring that is the end of that. One of your husband's many irregularities, that was all. “What did you partake in?”

That brings you pause, halting your fork, currently being used to awkwardly move around fingerling potatoes. Your appetite starts to leave you.

“...Some of the books from the library.” Your stab at a potato, wishing you could dissent from proprietary like he could and eat through this conversation. “The estate has quite a robust collection. Especially the astronomy section.”

The sound of cutlery scraping against porcelain makes you wince, draws your full attention to your husband. For a second, you swear his eyebrow twitches.

“I see.” He stabs his steak like it’s a vicious enemy, and rips away another piece. “Anything else?”

Why are you doing this?

You desperately want to ask. You swallow that urge down.

“I began a new cross stitch today.” You swallow. “My skills are unfortunately unrefined, but I found some beautiful thread I forgot my sister had packed away when-” I was shipped off “-when I first moved in. I’m planning to embroider a Mourning Dove.”

It had been more comforting than you expected, cross-stitching. Forever it had been a habit your mother forced upon you, imploring that good embroidery was only right for a proper lady to know. Now, all alone and homesick, it felt nice to create something that could fly away.

“Hmm.” Caleb says, and that is the end of it. What follows is uncomfortable minutes of silence. Too uncomfortable to eat, you gently push your plate away and stand up, another informal curtsy and a “good night”, hoping that would be the end.

It unfortunately was not.

Edric had let you know the night prior that he’d be busier these upcoming weeks, several meetings with important men or something of that matter keeping him away for the nights as well as the days. You told him it was no issue, even though your heart had tugged at the idea of spending those dark hours alone.

To your great shock, upon arriving at your favorite spot in the garden, your husband is there. Not lounging as he did before, but sitting on the bench. Your bench.

“I did not know you had finished dinner.” You remark, trying to act less flustered than you were. Months ago you would have rejoiced at this change of pace, so bored and listless. But now it left you feeling more than a little aggravated.

“I did shortly after you.” He says, actually acknowledging you with a look over his shoulder. Weirdly, a bottle does not accompany his side. “Thought I’d go for a walk. It is quite a big garden.”

I’m not here for you. He seemed to scream with every word, his very soul. You don’t why know he’s being so insistent, he’s made that opinion very clear in every other interaction so far.

“I see.” You parrot, a surge of obstinance making you bolder than normal, sitting down next to him. This was your favorite spot, you refuse to give it up to him on a whim.

It brings great satisfaction when he scoots away, his body jerking, clearly surprised by you being so close. You’re sure he thought you all figured out, some girl he could walk over whenever he pleased.

You don’t bother speaking first, figuring his stint during dinner was a temporary lapse in judgement. His sheer disinterest made it clear it was from a source of boredom, not genuine curiosity, which spurred this change. Surely, that was the end-

“That’s Cassiopeia.” Caleb says, his long hand, usually adorned with a bottle, points at the night sky. When you don’t respond immediately, he goes to lengths of drawing the ‘W’ shape with his finger.

“..Ah, yes it is.” You say, surprised that he has continued talking to you and that he knows any constellation. “She is quite beautiful. Though, I suppose that is part of why she is in the sky in the first place.” You chuckle at the joke, the mood quickly souring when Caleb doesn’t, looking at you like a strange sort of insect.

Edric would’ve laughed.

“And from her,” Caleb traces his hands away from Cassiopeia to another, “-You can find her daughter, Andromache.”

“Andromeda.” The words whip out immediately, before you can think better of it, although your tone is gentle. Caleb turns to look at you, wordlessly once more. For a second, you wonder if he’ll snap at your correction. “Her daughter is Andromeda, not Andromache. Andromache was Hector’s wife.”

Caleb pauses for a moment, retracting his hand.

“Hm.” He hums and turns away.

The awkward atmosphere lingers afterwards, and you almost feel bad for correcting him. You hadn't meant it as a criticism, just as a reminder.

But that just makes you more upset. Why should you care how Caleb feels about your words, unintentional or not? He has made no such consideration for your feelings during your time here, nor does he seem to intend to anytime in the future. He’s a cad, a rake, he could stand to be knocked down a peg or too.

Luckily, the rest of the night is blissfully quiet. You try your best to bat away any lingering feelings of anxiety or awkwardness, simply savoring what you could.

—

Caleb isn’t sure what he is doing.

It was bad enough foregoing his rest and haunting you like a phantom, chasing this incessant new urge of his. Like picking at a scab you know would be healed if left alone, he can’t seem to resist. His body follows you naturally now, using his more inhuman qualities to blend in the shadows, avoiding the poisonous daylight and lingering on your every move. You make it too easy with your rhythmic movements, keeping regular in your entertainment about the house. If not in the library, you were in the garden having tea. If not in the garden having tea, you were embroidering on the lounge. What should be so dreadfully boring is now enrapturing, although it is wounding it feels too good to stop.

Look at him now, bumbling around like a fool, words falling out his mouth like hail against your soft skin. Even when he does catch your attention and get a genuine response, he loses himself in the memories of said moments, reimagining it as vividly as he saw it from the shadows. He remembers the jump of excitement when you found a new book on Greek Mythology on the shelf, having thought you had already read them all. He remembers the look you made when you had made a mistake in your embroidery, your brow furrowed as you undid your stitches. When focused on your work, a tiny sliver of your tongue would sit out at your mouth, something he’s sure your mother scolded you for time and time again. By the time his mind got back to him you were leaving, the same curt response and rigid curtsy as before.

Desperate for a fix, he even ambushed you at your stargazing spot. He could barely look you in the eye, too nervous you would see through his ruse, point and laugh at his boyishness. It was made even worse when you sat near him, tantalizing him with your blood and the beating of your heart, which sang to his very ears.

“That’s Cassiopeia.” Caleb attempts, wondering if this will have greater success. Given your silence, he wondered if perhaps his maker hadn’t pointed it out to you yet. Pride fills his chest as he traces out her shape, wondering what look you have in your eyes.

“..Ah, yes it is.” You reply, and Caleb’s monstrous heart skips a beat. “She is quite beautiful. Though, I suppose that is part of why she is in the sky in the first place.”

Caleb freezes, caught off his rhythm, you giggle making him realize that he isn’t understanding something. The disappointed look on your face feels like a blade in his stomach.

He should be angry, furious even. It had been years since anyone had made him feel this way, this inferiority. He had outgrown that, had ripped it out with his own bleeding heart and tossed it outside.

“And from her,” Caleb pivots, hoping the skills of aloofness can work in favor “-You can find her daughter, Andromache.”

“Andromeda.” Caleb’s stomach turns. Frozen in his best laid plans, this windstorm of his wife has blown them away. “Her daughter is Andromeda, not Andromache. Andromache was Hector’s wife.”

It’s all he can do to not scream at that moment. But he fears that too will be as awkward and foolish as the rest of his words, choosing instead to say nothing. To his consternation and relief, you follow suit and do not speak as well, returning to your own stargazing.

When you eventually retire, Caleb should go out. He should find the nearest beast and rip their throat, soak in their blood and be reminded that he was the fearsome beast. He was not the stupid farm boy, he was an unholy abomination built to feast and terrorize.

Instead he paces around his room, wondering what he should say. He looks in the mirror at his facade self, the beautiful face that makes ladies of all classes swoon, and wonders what would catch your eye.

You were smart, clearly, smarter than he anticipated. He thinks you might be catching onto his voyeur-tendencies, once or twice hiding around a corner and popping out, as if to confront your own shadow. Once, when he had left your book an inch or two over from where you had left it, you returned to the room with a quirk in your eyebrow. You had searched the room up and down, even flagged down a servant to ask if anyone had cleaned the library recently.

He had assumed your quietness came from a dull demeanor, just as boring as one would expect from the “wife.” But you had good humor. He saw you joking around with his creator, possibly the stodgiest vampire to ever roam the world, and even make jests of your own. You had tried with him tonight, although it seemed to fly over his head. And you seemed to enjoy dancing, like most ladies, if the way you hummed and swayed down the halls when you thought you were alone was enough indication. These were all things he was used to; Wining and dining ladies with his good charm and superb dancing skills, yet he found himself at a standstill.

His head falls into his hands, a frustrated hunger stirring in his gut. He needs to feed. At least that was an aching he could satisfy.

—

A whole fortnight of this. No peace, no privacy, no respite from the dreadfulness of the estate. During the day you tremored, aware that someone followed in your footsteps but not who it was. During the night all sense of comfort was robbed by him, your husband who, after several months of blissful avoidance, could not leave your side.

The conversations had not gotten better since the first. Mostly one sided, your husband seemed to force himself through every word, barely listening when it was your turn to speak. You don’t know why he bothers with the painful effort, his head off in the clouds, clearly wishing he was somewhere else. It's worse than the silence by a landslide, and you find yourself begging for your husband to start ignoring you again.

But like every one before it, your wishes go unanswered. The pain of it all forces you to focus, to try and find the source of this newfound vigor for this falsehood of a marriage.

All your hypotheses lead you back to one person. One person whom, unlike your husband, could hopefully be reasoned with.

—

You make quick work to scurry out of the dining hall after another painful dinner, hoping the distraction of his meal will keep your husband from noticing your divergence from routine.

Striding deeper into the bowels of the estate reminds you of just how unsettling the rest of the house feels. Each hallway is cleaned too perfectly, each decoration too precisely placed. You never knew furniture could feel so cold, that the sterility of a cleanliness would be so unnerving. It felt as if no one had ever really walked these halls, not for a long, long time.

But you push on, too determined in your mission. You had finally been able to corner a maid during the day, making up a vague excuse for returning a book to have her point the way to the Earl’s office. You’re happy you had the forethought to write it down, sure the enticing darkness around each corner and the amount of turns would’ve befuddled you. But with your trusty papers, you're able to navigate yourself to a beautiful mahogany door, befit with a golden knob and intimidating presence.

Why must everything in this place feel so hostile?

You ponder, wondering if the architect of this place had a hatred of joy and fresh air. But you digress, rapping your knuckles onto the thick door frame. Through the wood you can faintly hear the scribbles of an ink pen and the focused voice of The Earl.

“You may enter.”

His tone lacks the familiarity you’ve grown used to. For a discomforting second it reminds you of Caleb, not of these past two weeks but the months before. You banish that thought away. They are father and son, it is only natural.

“Sir?” You default to polite terms, peaking your head past the grand entrance. Even now the study feels untouchable, makes you hesitant to walk inside so boldly.

The Earl quickly leans his head up, shoulders falling down and a smile gracing his lips. You smother your fluttering heart, reminding yourself of your mission.

“My dear, I was not expecting you.” Edric stands with a dramatic push of his chair, setting his ink pen into its pot. “I apologize, but I fear I cannot join you again tonight. There is still much work to be done.” Edric taps his fingers against his desk.

“Oh it is no issue, Si-Edric. I understand completely.” Finally comfortable enough, you enter the room completely and shut the door behind you. Though this does little to calm your nerves, both for the conversation you must have and the idea of being alone in a room with him. As silly as it is, the hesitance of being alone with a man who is not your husband lingers, even if it is someone proper like your father-in-law. “I actually wish-” You words catch, but you will the butterflies in your stomach away, “-I wish to talk to you about something else. If you are available to it.”

Edric’s brow quirks, a minor change in his usually flawless face. For the very first time, he looks caught off guard.

“Of course, my dear.” Edric pulls out a chair for you to sit, moving his own so the desk won’t block you from each other. You nod in thanks, knees knocking together. You were never great at confrontation, and after finally finding peace in your new home, you fear disturbing and ruining what you have.

But Caleb is doing a fine job of that all on his own.

Your hands fiddle with each other in your lap, forcefully distracting you from making eye contact with Edric. He sits now with his ankles crossed, his arms resting on the sides, looking all like a king receiving his subject. Given his authority and your desperation, he might as well be.

“Now, what would you like to speak about?”

“I-” You swallow the lump in your throat, “I would like to start with my appreciation for your kind intentions, as I know it is what most likely drove you to act in such a way.” Your finger bones ache with how tightly you clench them. “That I appreciate you taking the effort to…encourage Caleb to spend more time with me.” Encourage is probably the incorrect word. If you knew anything about your husband ‘bribed’ was most definitely more accurate. It is the only thing that would make sense given recent circumstances. “But while I understand why you would think such a move was for the best, I’d like to implore that it is not necessary.”

You can hear a pin drop, your father-in-law quiet as the dead. It urges you to keep speaking, to fill the uncomfortable silence with something. At the least to release the issues from your mind, to get them off your chest.

“I know you are a good and honorable man, and that from the outside I must look so pitiful to you. That my lonesome nature most likely urged you to aid in my companionship, but I have found much happiness in this place in these past months. I see it as my home, and I do not mind the quiet.” You’ve released the fabric of your dress, moving instead to the fascinating shapes of your palm lines. Still, you proceed. “As…uncouth as my husbands, they seem to make him happy. He does not seem to enjoy the quiet nights like you and I do.”

A heat decorates the apples of your cheeks, spreading all the way down your neck and up to the tips of your ears. It seems silly looking back on it, having more in common with a man no doubt twice your age than your own husband.

“So, if you could speak to him and let him know that he is free to live as he likes, that he should not feel responsible for me, I would most appreciate it. Please tell him that I am quite happy with the way things were before.”

With you.

Your twisting heart does not know if it wants Edric to understand that unspoken sentiment.

The tapping of Edric’s fingernails on the chair arm finally pulls you attention, sounding cacophonous in the void created. It draws your eyes to finally look Edric head on, to gauge his reaction. Unfortunately, his reserved face leaves it difficult for you to do so.

“I see.” Edric finally breaks it, his fingers speeding up in their rapping. Something squeezes in your chest, wondering if perhaps you’ve offended him with your presumptions.

“I did not-” You bluster, trying to explain before he assumes anything. But a wave of Edric hands stops you in your tracks.

“I am not offended, dear.” The Early gives a gentle smile, a nod to show the truth of his word. Relief washes over you. “I am simply…surprised.”

You swallow your response. As attentive and understanding as Edric is, he is still a man, still subject to misunderstandings of a woman’s true heart. While Caleb is quite handsome, it takes much more good looks and the bare minimum to curry your favor.

“I shall speak to him.” Edric finally commands, standing up from his seat and sending you scurrying to do so on your own. A bubbling feeling fills your chest, the relief of knowing things will finally return to normal. At least the nights.

“Thank you, Edric.”

“It is no problem.” Edric says with a wave of his hand. “I commend you for bringing it up with me promptly. I understand that can be a difficult feat, especially when I am such a recluse.”

That lightens your mood even more, giving you a gentle giggle.

“I think you presume too much of your intimidation, good sir.” You lie, as if you were not petrified of facing him not 10 minutes ago. That fear seems silly now. Of course Edric would listen, when hasn’t he?

You don’t notice the way Edric’s tongue flicks out to wet his lips, the way his eyes for only a second dip down to your collarbone.

“Perhaps I do.” Edric pats the back of his seat. “Well, while I do enjoy your company, I'm afraid I must get back to work. Shall I escort you to your room?”

“Oh that won’t be necessary. I wouldn’t want to disturb and I am quite confident I can find my way.” You weren’t really, but you also were not ready to admit that to him.

“Then I bid you goodnight, my dear.” Edric nods his head, quickly moving his chair back behind his desk, no doubt to resume his business. You drop into a small curtsy yourself, a new energy in your steps as you leave. Even with the labyrinthine task of returning to your room ahead of you, you can’t be despondent.

You have a feeling things are taking a change for the better.

—

It takes everything in Edric’s immortal power to not burst into laughter the second the door closes behind you. Even with the thick wood as a barrier and your inferior human hearing, Edric is sure his cackling could be heard from miles away.

He had planned to court you slowly. Push the boundaries of his affection with every visit, subtly make you dependent on his touch and his closeness. Then, he would pull away, make you truly long for him. It would make his return all the more dramatic, hopefully swell your emotions to such a size that you would not turn away more uncouth behavior. A hug, a kiss to the cheek, maybe even a peck to your soft lips.

But now his son had revealed his hand, clumsily so. Scrambling to hold on to the toy now that it was being swept away, every bit the petulant child. He had made his own desperate move for your affections and was failing miserably.

It's cruel how much glee that gives him, Edric thinks, chuckling into his hands. He needs to remind his son that such obvious peacocking is hardly a foolproof strategy, teach him subtler ways of luring and ensnaring prey, nonetheless a partner. The boy had been riding on his good looks and inhuman charm for too long.

Ahh yes, and you. Who came to him, who chose him. Who ran into his arms and pleaded for safety. How could he not give it to you? His sweet dearest, his darling future. Edric’s nails dig into his palms and he’s sure if his heart still beated, it’d be racing a mile a minute. A palpable thirst burns in the back of his throat, one Edric knows won't be satisfied by any half-thought meal.

This has all but confirmed it: plans are changing. It seems the timeline for his machinations are moving up, given your clear displeasure. Who is he to deny you?

[girlkisser13]

dating jeremy gilbert would include

• jeremy gilbert is the kind of boy who would give you his whole heart even if it was already cracked down the middle.

• but let’s be real— jeremy’s whole heart is held together with duct tape and grief.

• when you first get together, he’d try to convince himself that you’re just another person fate is going to rip away from him.

• but the more time passes, the more terrified he gets— not because he thinks you’re going to leave, but because he knows he’d never survive losing you.

• you’d catch him staring at you sometimes with this haunted look in his eyes, like he’s already mourning you— and when you ask him what’s wrong, he’d just shake his head and kiss your forehead, whispering, "nothing… just making sure you’re real."

• jeremy is such a golden retriever boyfriend— soft-hearted, loyal to a fault, and always looking at you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him. even when you’re just sitting there doing nothing, he can’t help but smile at you like a lovesick puppy.

• golden retriever boyfriends who will burn the world down for you >>>

• he’d bring you coffee exactly how you like it without asking, every single morning. even if he’s barely slept or dealing with his own issues, making sure you’re okay is always his top priority.

• when you’re having a bad day, he’d show up with one of his old flannels and wrap it around your shoulders without a word— because he knows that sometimes comfort isn’t about fixing things, it’s just about being there.

• he'd always let you wear his hoodies without even asking— honestly, he prefers seeing you in them. they're a little big on you, and he melts every time you show up in one with sleepy eyes and messy hair.

• he’d totally make you mixed cds with handwritten tracklists like songs that remind me of you.

• he is 100% a forehead kisser. anytime you’re worried or tired, he’ll press a soft kiss to your forehead and just linger there for a second, like he’s trying to pour all his love into that one little gesture.

• jeremy is incredibly protective in that quiet, subtle way— not overbearing, but always making sure you’re safe. walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street, standing just a little bit closer to you in crowded rooms, slipping his hand into yours when he senses you’re anxious.

• he would never try to keep you out of the supernatural mess— he knows better than anyone that pretending something isn’t dangerous won’t stop it from killing the people you love.

• instead, he’d train with you— teaching you how to shoot a crossbow, how to use vervain, how to spot a vampire before they spot you.

• but even if you’re capable of handling yourself, he’d still put himself between you and danger without even thinking about it.

• he’d pull you behind him in a heartbeat if something supernatural walked into the grill— one arm out like a human shield, eyes flicking toward the exits, mind already calculating how to get you out alive.

• if you ever got hurt— even a scratch— jeremy would blame himself completely. he’d sit by your bedside all night, fingers wrapped tightly around your hand, murmuring apologies into your hair even after you’ve told him a hundred times it isn’t his fault.

• he ALWAYS walk you home— even if you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself. when you tease him about it, he’d just shrug and say, "i’d rather be safe than sorry."

• he leaving his hoodies at your place on purpose just so you’d have something that smells like him when he’s not around.

• he would absolutely tuck your hair behind your ear during conversations without even thinking about it.

• he keeps one of your hair ties on his wrist at all times— partly because he likes having a little piece of you with him, partly because he knows you’ll always forget to bring one

• you become his favorite thing to draw without even realizing it. he’d sketch you in moments when you weren’t paying attention— curled up in bed, laughing at something on your phone, biting your lip while you’re reading.

• one day you’d find a whole notebook filled with little drawings of you— some half-finished, some perfect— and he’d get all flustered trying to explain it. but the truth is, drawing you is his way of keeping you with him, even when you’re not there.

• he memorizes all your little habits without even realizing it— how you like your coffee, which book you always reach for when you’re sad, the exact song that always makes you smile.

• he pretends not to notice when you fall asleep on the couch during movie nights— but the second your head hits his shoulder, he’s pulling a blanket over you and tucking you closer like you’re the most precious thing in the whole damn world.

• jeremy’s love language is physical touch— full stop. he probably doesn’t even realize how touch-starved he is until you’re in his life, giving him all this soft, gentle affection he never thought he deserved.

• he always has to be touching you somehow— pinkies linked under the table, his hand resting on your thigh while he’s driving, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back while you’re curled up on the couch together.

• he likes to take you on midnight drives down empty roads, one hand on the steering wheel and the other laced tightly with yours, just needing to feel you close.

• jeremy is the type of boyfriend who wants to build a whole little life with you.

• you could be brushing your teeth together in the morning, both half-asleep, and he’d just lean over out of nowhere to kiss your temple because he can’t believe he gets to have this with you— something soft and normal in a town that steals every good thing away.

• he tries so hard not to let his darkness touch you— but there would be nights where he’d wake up gasping for air, hands shaking as he reaches for you in the dark.

• and you’d always be there— brushing his hair out of his face, pressing soft kisses to his forehead, whispering, "i’m here. i’m not leaving."

• jeremy wouldn’t just love you— he’d worship you in this quiet, aching way that would absolutely ruin any other person for you. <33

[roguishcat]

What books don't teach you (or how to date a wickedly charming vampire if all you know about dating is purely theoretical)

Summary: Unfortunately, having enough smutty fiction to sink a ship did not prepare you for dating (were you even dating?) Astarion. A shy/inexperienced Reader x Astarion fic where both do everything wrong but somehow end up getting it right. Set in Act II (before Astarion's confession).

Rating: Exlicit (MNDI)

Tags: MNDI, 18+, NSFW, Humour, Romance, Angst, Smut, Smut with feels, Smut with some plot, Oral (Male receiving), Masturbation (female), Vaginal Fingering, Praise kink, They are bad at communicating, Inexperienced Reader, Astarion is bad at feelings

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader (You)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It's spring cleaning time, so let's get those WIPs done! 😊 This is my first finished WIP for @thekindredcollective BG3 Spring Cleaning! Should have spent more time on this before posting, but my laptop is acting up again and I want to post the story whilst I can still use it (I hate writing/editing on my phone). Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated. Please tell me if you notice mistakes and typos! Hope you enjoy the story! ❤️❤️

You wanted to put him in your mouth. There. You said it. Well, admitted it to yourself silently in the dead of night whilst completely hidden under the blanket. Which was pretty much the same thing. Sort of.

You and Astarion had already done... it. The horizontal tango, that is. Twice even!

And you were very proud of how cool, smooth and put-together you were during those times. (Astarion immediately saw through your act, of course, but that was beside the point!)

Because no matter how inexperienced you were, you remembered both nights with hot cheeks and gentle warmth blooming to life in your chest every time you thought about the time you spent enjoying each other. Prior to meeting Astarion, you had no idea that bodies and tongues could even be used in such a manner. You read about it, of course. And being a voracious reader, especially when it came to certain literature, you had a general idea of what happened between consenting adults in the bedroom. And forests, beaches, caves, country houses, castle dungeons and so on.

But to actually experience it yourself! No matter how much you let your imagination run wild, to actually have someone, and a very handsome someone at that, outdo anything you imagined had been life-changing. You had a wonderful, toe-curling, lip-biting, earth-shattering, amazing time. And you really, really wanted to reciprocate.

And therein lay the problem.

The one and only time that you dared to go down on someone, you were told quite explicitly that you were completely shit at it. Absolutely talentless. Beyond terrible. And that put you off trying something like this with anyone ever again. Or so you thought.

Because when you looked at Astarion as he lay on top of you, making you tremble and shake with every movement of his hands on your skin, it made you wonder. Wonder how he would taste. You looked at Astarion and ached. Craved to hear him gasp and moan. Watch him unravel from the skill of your tongue and hands. Because surely if others could learn to do that to other person’s orifices then you… could probably manage to be okay at it.

The thought of your late-night musings becoming reality had your cheeks burning in seconds. You sighed and hit your head on the pillow, knowing that it was an awful, terrible idea.

Astarion was experienced, beautiful, and confident. You were not. Whatever it was that made him decide to be with you in the first place would surely be outweighed by the spectacular way you would screw this up.

You sighed again, this time a deep, long sound that almost emptied your lungs.

You wondered if you could just ask someone. You were sure that at least one of your companions could give you a pointer or two. But Astarion's pointy ears seemed to catch every bit of juicy gossip, every little whisper. He would know of the full extent of your inadequacy and promptly dump you.

No. You needed to keep your embarrassing secret to yourself.

And then you had a eureka moment. Because you realised that you didn't need to ask anyone at all! What you needed was to get Gale distracted enough for you to steal one of his books. Because you were more than certain that recently Gale had come into possession of a very filthy tome that he quickly squirreled away before anyone could notice. The tome that would be your salvation.

And with this comforting thought finally allowing you to relax, you soon found yourself in the arms of Morpheus, your sleep untroubled and filled with pleasant, if a little racy, dreams.

Astarion was... concerned. Yes, he wasn't worried exactly, though he was slowly edging towards that territory. And why? Well, because their level-headed leader started acting in a manner that one could politely refer to as eccentric.

This group was already full of weirdos, and you were pretty much the only one of the lot that one could call the voice of reason. Except lately you seemed to abandon all reason and instead chose to act like a woman gone mad as you made attempt after attempt to steal something from the wizard.

You were so bad at going about it in a discreet manner that it was almost amusing. Gale did not seem to notice, but Astarion knew that the cleric and the gith did, as did Karlach. He was sure that Shadowheart and Karlach had some kind of bet going on, although he did not care to find out exactly what the terms were.

Initially, he had a fleeting thought that you were trying to get into Gale's tent for amorous reasons. That you decided to take a new lover. Astarion tried not to examine the sick feeling that twisted his gut at the thought of you leaving his bedroll cold to frolic into another person's tent. Because there wasn't any sick feeling in the first place and even if there was, he could quite reasonably blame it on indigestion.

But then he realised that you tried to sneak into Gale's tent only when the wizard was otherwise occupied, usually right about the time he was preparing meals and seemed to be engrossed in whatever he was trying to make edible.

Either way, Astarion was confused, bewildered by why you doggedly chose to pursue something that the wizard had come to possess. Your tenacity and grim persistence would be amusing had it been anyone else that was acting batshit crazy. Alas, it was the one companion that Astarion bet on to stay sane throughout the whole ordeal. And that just wouldn’t do. Not that he cared, per se. But you being predictable would definitely make things easier in the long run. Astarion had a plan, after all, and he was sticking to the said plan no matter what.

A smile curved the elf's lips as you once again failed to infiltrate enemy territory and were forced to retreat rather hastily and inelegantly, almost smashing into a nearby tree as you made your escape. That didn't go unnoticed by the cleric. She whispered something to Karlach, making the tiefling almost spit her drink out as she tried, and failed, to suppress a laugh.  

It was at that moment that Astarion decided that he would help your poor pitiful self to steal whatever it was that you wanted to get from the wizard's tent. Because it would probably take one or two more failed attempts for Gale to notice, and that would mean that you would abandon your plan, and Astarion would never find out what it was that was worth all this trouble. Not that he cared as such. But it could be some powerful artifact, or a tome filled with nefarious spells. And if he knew what it was, he was almost certain he could convince you to share.

Later that day, as you positioned yourself strategically just outside Gale's tent, Astarion strolled up to the wizard with an air of casual boredom. Gale was busy preparing supper, chopping away at some vegetables and whatever else they managed to scavenge. Astarion snorted his disapproval at the scents emitting from the cooking pot.

"Something on your mind?" Gale chose that moment to speak up.

"Hm? Oh, no. Pay no attention to me whatsoever. I'm just pondering a dilemma of mine, and I am afraid I might not come up with an answer."

"I see. May I be of assistance?"

Inclining his head ever so slightly, Astarion could see you slink towards the open flap of Gale's tent, taking a step back to be swallowed up by the darkness.

Astarion smirked.

“I am not certain that you can, wizard. You see, this issue of mine would need a mind that is truly voracious. A certain someone that can unravel the unravellable. Solve the unsolvable.”

“And are you insinuating that I am lacking in this department?”

“Oh, no! I would never insinuate anything.”

Astarion heard something crash, the sound followed by a serious of muffled curses and something that that to a keen ear would seem like you fell over and were now struggling to extricate yourself from something or another. This level of clumsiness was so you that Astarion felt something akin to fondness.

Gale was about to turn his head when Astarion said, “I would not insinuate anything that I could state outright.”

That did it. Because Gale could take needling and teasing when it came to anything except his intellectual prowess.

“I’ll have you know that back at Blackstaff Academy I was often consulted on all matters of things! And often my council was the only one worth listening to! Now, tell me exactly what is troubling you. I am more than certain that I will solve whatever issue this is.”

Astarion saw you emerge with something hidden under your shirt. He didn't know why you bothered, it was more than obvious that it was a book of some sort. Though perhaps you were hoping to conceal the cover. Astarion's nostrils flared.

You were excited, embarrassed and a little aroused. An interesting combination to have to some light reading. 

“Astarion? Are you listening?”

Ah, the wizard was still talking. How he loved listening to the sound of his own voice! Honestly, some could really benefit from working on their people skills.

“You know, perhaps being in the presence of such intelligence was enough. I just thought of what to do. No advice needed.”

Gale blinked.

“I see. I’m glad that you are no longer troubled.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t go that far. We are all a little troubled around here. Anyway, must dash.”

And with that Astarion was gone in a flurry of silk and smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. Making his way out of camp, he pursued his target with predatory skill. It wasn’t like you were making it difficult to find you. A broken branch here, a piece of fabric snagged on a twig there. Astarion soon found himself on the riverbank, you not noticing his approach as you were deeply engrossed in your reading.     

"Hm.. Where is the part about.. Aha! Here we go. 'His throbbing member brushed against her skirts'. No, I must have skipped too far ahead."

Astarion bit his lip to keep himself from laughing. This is what you were after all this time? Stealing a dirty, scandalous novel? Surely he provided you with enough entertainment for you not to require that type of books? Who knew you were such a deviant underneath that prim and proper facade? How absolutely wonderful.

"Yes! Finally! 'She took him into her shaking hands and pressed a gentle kiss to his pulsing shaft, her eyes asking the question her lips could not form.'"

Your eyes shone with a victorious if somewhat maniacal glint, there was a leaf in your hair, teeth worrying your bottom lip as you read the next passage with feverish intensity. 

Perhaps it was time to make himself known. Astarion stepped on a tree branch, putting some force into it to make it snap. 

You squeaked and whipped your head around to look at him, eyes comically round and large, cheeks flushed and rosy. And it was at this moment that you lost your grip on the book, making it slip out of your fingers. You tried grabbing it but it was too late. Whatever escapades the Duke and the debutante got up to were lost to you, swallowed up hungrily by the river. 

"Well, I suppose now we will never know if he sheathed his sword to the hilt. Though perhaps it was more of a dagger?"

Astarion did not expect a pathetic little sob to be your reply.

"Darling?"

He crouched beside you, thumb wiping a stray tear that rolled down your cheek.

"It was supposed to be a surprise for you," you whispered, making a point not to look at him.

"Dearest, this is not the first novel of that sort that I've read and I am sure that it won't be the last."

"No- I- I wasn't talking about the book. I was trying to use it as a guide, of sorts."

"Well, I'm not sure if taking one too many bumps to your lovely head affected your memory, but we've already had sex. Twice, in fact."

"Yes,” you wiped your face with a swift, jerky movement, “but I wanted to do something. And I wanted to do it well."

Astarion chuckled as he realised what you were talking about. He had his suspicions when he had his wicked way with you, seeing the way you'd eye that particular part of his anatomy before quickly looking away. The elf lowered himself gracefully onto the ground and sat beside you, pulling you towards himself and letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"You've never-"

"Once. It wasn’t good. I mean I-I wasn’t very good," you admitted with a wince.

Astarion knew that he had to tread very, very carefully. It was glaringly obvious that you were inexperienced when it came to sex, even if you tried to act confident when you slept together. When he had stepped out from behind the tree the night when he bedded you for the first time, you walked towards him like a newborn doe, legs unsteady, hands shaking, a bright blush on your cheeks. You were excited and nervous in equal measures, and that made him both irritated and intruiged.

Therefore, Astarion chose not to tease you but took a deep breath, swallowed whatever witty comment was on his tongue, and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on your temple.

Bringing his lips to your ear, Astarion spoke in a low tone, "Darling, make of it what you will, but a student is only as good as their teacher."

Hearing your heartbeat speed up, Astarion smirked. You turned so you were looking straight at him.

Fingers clasping your chin, he pulled you up enough to brush cool lips against your own, tongue flicking out to wet soft flesh.

"Would you like me to teach you?”

“Yes.”

“Then be a good girl for me and follow my instructions.”

Having spotted a rock with a deep indent that would allow one to take a seat somewhat comfortably, Astarion rose and moved towards it, motioning you to follow.

“On your knees, my sweet,” he purred, undoing the laces of his trousers as he took his place. Looking up, Astarion’s eyes widened as he found that you were completely bare from the waist up, your exposed breasts level with his crotch.

"Feeling a little warm?" He cleared his throat.

"No. This is plan B."

"I need you to explain your thinking there."

"Well, if you don’t enjoy my mouth, these might come in handy."

After all, you've read enough fiction over the years to know how one can make use of this particular part of your anatomy.

"You mean-"

"Yes."

"I see."

Astarion felt himself grow harder still and willed his rebellious cock to cool it. He was supposed to be the one doing the seducing. Not the one who was most certainly a virgin mere weeks ago. Except suddenly you seemed to turn the tables on him and he, the suave and experienced rogue that bedded thousands, wanted you to touch him. The fact that he did not feel the usual wave of self-loathing and disgust was odd yet very welcome.

Your hands brushed against the skin of his thighs, so warm and gentle. So unlike the touch he was used to. Astarion looked into your eyes and felt himself relax at seeing the genuine excitement you were trying to be less obvious about.

It was sweet. You were sweet. You wouldn’t hurt him, or force him, of belittle him. And knowing with the utmost certainty that you'd stop if he asked you to made Astarion put his hand on top of yours. His cool hand gripping yours gently, Astarion delighted in the way you swallowed nervously when he slowly guided your hands up.

"Start gently. No teeth."

"Wasn’t going to use them."

"Don't try to take it all in at once."

"Don’t think I can anyway."

"And darling?" Astarion said, noticing the intense resolve on your face. "Please don't overthink this."

"Okay," you nodded.

And then you put your tongue on him and licked a long, wet trail, giving the tip an experimental suck. Astarion's brain promptly short-circuited. The second suck was a touch more insistent, Astarion making a strangled sound that was most definitely not a whine. Emboldened by his reactions, you took more of him in, moving your mouth up and down the shaft, trying to establish a pace.

Astarion's eyes slammed shut and he bit his bottom lip. He had forgotten how good this could feel. Hells, he could not for the (un)life of him remember the last time someone offered to pleasure him in such a way. His experiences of sex, at least from what he could remember, were all about giving at best. At worst? Well...

Astarion scowled, willing himself to stay in the present, focusing on the licks and sucks, and your hand stroking the base. The sensitive head pulsed from the attention. Astarion groaned when he felt your fingers wrap around the base, stroking back and forth along the section where your mouth couldn’t reach. His eyes rolled upwards, his hips moving involuntarily to meet your mouth.

And then his dick hit the back of your throat, making you gag. It was then that Astarion remembered that he was meant to be instructing and you, in your eagerness, had to be guided enough not to hurt yourself. Perhaps your attention had to be otherwise occupied.

"Darling," Astarion purred, pushing you back gently, making his cock slide out of your mouth with a wet sound. "There is something else I'd like you to do for me."

"Sure, I'd do anything to you."

"You mean for me?"

You shrugged, making him bark a surprised laugh. Oh, you were fun! Perhaps not always on purpose, but still. Much more fun than most, at least in his experience.

"I'd like you to take the rest of your clothes off and touch yourself."

At your dubious look, he leaned forward and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'd enjoy seeing you pleasure yourself whilst you pleasure me."

"Um..."

"Good girl."

You obeyed, undoing the ties with shaking fingers and taking your clothes off, nervous yet giddy with excitement. Looking up, you saw Astarion watching you intently, a lazy half smile on his face.

He thought he was all that, did he? Well, you read enough naughty novels that you purchased from Sharess' - hood on, not making eye contact and trying to get out there as fast as possible - to have plenty of theoretical knowledge about how these things got done! And sure, perhaps you didn’t have lovers before Astarion. But you had years to explore your body well enough to know what got you going.

Astarion watched as you placed your hand on your breast and then trailed your fingers down, the descent slow and teasing. As a rule, Astarion didn’t enjoy seeing others pleasure themselves. He enjoyed feeling what little power he had over people, enjoyed how they would grovel and writhe just so he'd grant them a moment of bliss, enjoyed seeing them say and do whatever it was that he wanted because please, please, please.

Sex was a tool. Sex was a weapon. Sex was a way to get what he wanted. And he would damn well use all the tricks in his arsenal to have you where he wanted you.

Except a peculiar thing happened. He actually wanted you. Which was becoming more apparent by the second as your fingers pushed your underwear aside to bare yourself enough for Astarion to be getting quite a show.

He could see, smell and all but taste the way your body reacted to touch and to being watched. It made his fangs itch. And then you threw your head back, baring your neck ever so deliciously as you let out a wanton moan. His body jerked towards you, and it took all his willpower not to sink his teeth into inviting flesh.

No, he'd always ask before biting.

"Darling, may I?" Astarion said in a guttural voice he barely recognised.

Your 'yes' came out as an almost plosive sound that was half breathed and half forced out. He sighed appreciatively, so close to getting what he craved. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he put his hands on your shoulders and leaned in, nose trailing along your neck, tongue lapping at the twin marks that would most definitely become permanent. The thought had his hips thrusting forward, cock hard and leaking.

Not wasting another moment, Astarion sank his fangs into your neck, pulling you towards him. He could feel your approaching orgasm, taste your pleasure, making it his own.

"Astarion," you whispered, eyes fluttering shut, the hand not working you into a frensy rising to brush back soft curls. Your feather-light touch on his ears made him groan as he drank, a trail of blood escaping and trickling down between your bodies.

"Astarion I-" the rest was swallowed by his mouth as he crashed his lips against yours. You could taste your blood and then felt his fingers join yours before dipping into you and-oh.

Strong, and sure, and experienced, his fingers had you panting and gasping into his mouth. He moved and you tried to grind against him, but steady hands kept you in place. Your orgasm hit you hard, Astarion not relenting as you rode his fingers.

You two broke apart and Astarion grinned. Yes, judging by your glazed eyes and swollen lips, his plan was working as brilliantly as he hoped.

"Was this fun, my sweet?" He let your head fall onto his shoulder, watching your chest rise and fall as your breath escaped you in wheezing puffs.

"Very," you nodded and licked your lips, trying to steady yourself. "And now it's your turn."

Astarion blinked.

"Mine?"

"Yes. I mean, unless you didn’t like it."

Astarion found that for the first time in his life he was unsure what to say. Because he didn’t actually expect you to continue. Because he was absolutely certain that you just wanted to play with his cock for a while before chasing your own release.

"I did like it," he admitted, looking away in a manner that could be described as uncharacteristically shy, "but you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted. "I wanted to for a long time. If you allow it, that is," you murmured into the elf’s ear, sending a delicious shudder through him.

Your earnest expression had Astarion considering it. That and the fact your parted, moist lips looked wickedly inviting. You wrapped your fingers around his cock, applying gentle pressure as you gave it a few slow teasing strokes.

"You up for it, lover?" You teased.

"Hah! That’s terrible. Don’t do puns, dear.”

“Because you’d much rather I do you?”

“You know that terrible jokes account for one in two murders?”

“Is that a real statistic?”

“It might as well be.”

Looking at you, Astarion felt a wave of something that another, better emotionally equipped being, would call fondness. And then he felt a wave of something that he recognised all too well. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the way your hand moved over his hardness. And then he felt warm heat of your mouth and your appreciative sigh as you were finally given free rein, getting to do whatever you wanted to him as Astarion submitted to your ministrations.  

He knew that he wouldn’t last long. Not with your blood coursing through him and the warmth from your mouth seeping into his flesh and electrifying his nerves. He tried not to arch his back, seeking more friction, more of you, just more of it all. Because- hells!

You chose that moment to palm his balls, rolling them teasingly as Astarion fought with himself not to thrust and roll his hips. His breath caught in his throat and he released a needy, half-chocked sound as you slowed to trace a lazy path up the spit-sleeked hardness, sending already sensitive nerves into overdrive.

“Darling, I won’t last long,” Astarion whimpered.

Your hum of appreciation just about sent him over the edge.

And then you went faster, as if getting greedier by the minute. Astarion’s words came out as whimpering pleas that did not make sense to his own ears. He gasped and whimpered as his pleasure built.

Whimpers turned into groans and those turned into silence as his mouth opened, deadly fangs flashing,  as your other hand ventured further to find that spot and pressed into it with each movement. His orgasm swelled and broke, Astarion not even having the chance to ask where you’d want him to cum. You tried to swallow, but were rather unprepared, almost chocking then pulling back enough to let what you couldn’t manage trail down your hand and his body.

Astarion took greedy gulps of air that he didn’t need, eyes still closed, feeling boneless and lazy, and not wanting to move. He could feel you shift and next you started wiping him clean with a soft cloth, movements slow and careful. This wasn’t the first time you cared for him in such a way, but he still didn’t expect you to want to do something like that, not really sure how to react. And so Astarion chose to just stay silent and enjoy it while it lasted. Because for one reason or another, he was certain that whatever this was would not last.

“Did- Did I do well?”

He chuckled, “Isn’t it obvious? Or perhaps you’d like me to sing praises and commend you on your skill like they would in those novels you like, hm?”

One ruby eye cracked open and Astarion gave you a slow, languid smile.

“If you were in my novel, you’d definitely be more gallant,” you huffed.

“Apologies. I’ll try better next time.”

“Next time? You mean I get to do it again?”

“Can’t imagine why you are the one excited about it, but yes. You get to do it again.”

Your victorious, brilliant smile had him looking away, the tips of his ears tinged pink. He felt conflicted about the attention, confused as to why you’d feel so obviously happy at him being satisfied.

Astarion did not like not being able to figure people out. Not being able to predict what one would do, not knowing what came next had the elf stiffening involuntarily.

Red eyes watched you intently as you put your smallclothes on. The vampire was eerily still as you stumbled about, suddenly bashful and trying to cover yourself up as quickly as possible as you threw furtive looks in his direction. Then he took a breath, as if suddenly remembering that some would deem it a necessity and willed his body to obey him. Lips curving, a smile plastered on his face, Astarion rose in a smooth, elegant movement, still completely bare and seemingly not bothered by being nude out in the open.

A finger under your chin, he turned your head and pecked your lips.

“Thank you, darling. I had a simply marvellous time. How good of you to treat me so.”

His words didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of melting into a pile of feminine goo, as one should have done when being in the proximity of a gorgeous creature, you frowned and nodded.

“Yes. I’m glad. But I think I have to go.”

“Really? Have to?”

“No. I want to go.”

Astarion let his hand drop and watched you retreat with surprising haste, confused about what had just happened. It felt as if he had crossed some unspoken line, but he was unsure when and where he did so. Astarion dressed quickly, with jerky movements, tugging his shirt on angrily. Anger came naturally. Anger was easier. He did not know who he was angry at – you or himself – but somehow it made him feel better. Taking a different path to the one you chose to make your retreat, Astarion ran. Hunting something down and tearing into its throat with his fangs. Watching it thrust about as he bled it dry. He needed to at least sate his hunger if he couldn’t settle his mind.

Evening came and went with neither you nor Astarion uttering a word to each other. The next day was much the same. You communicated through others, but never directly.

On day six, you approached Astarion. He was reading, casually reclining against a tree, the wind playing with his curls and making them dance so beautifully that you almost missed a step and had to quickly catch yourself. Falling forward and kissing the ground would definitely put you in a state not conducive to having any conversation at all.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to just go for it. There was very little you could do to make the situation worse.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out.

"Beg pardon?" Astarion looked up with a cold expression on his handsome face.

Not a good start, but you decided to soldier on.

"I want to apologise."

"Do you know what you are apologising for?" Astarion closed his book and set it aside without breaking eye contact.

"I'm not sure exactly. I don't know what I did that day by the river, to make you look at me with such disgust-"

Astarion made a noise at the back of his throat which could be interpreted in many ways, and you took it as confirmation of your worst fears.

"And I don't know how to fix it! And maybe a simple apology isn't enough, but I couldn’t come up with anything better."

You had thought of how this conversation could go at length, tossing and turning late into the night. You had hoped to sound less pathetic, less needy. But perhaps being honest was the best way to go about it.

"I envy your easy confidence, you know. I never had that. Not once in my life. And it's not about my looks. I just don’t feel like I have the guts to talk about my wants. And I've never felt that I even wanted to… until you. And I'm not asking you to understand or to accept it. But I can't bear you to look at me that way again, like you can't wait to get away from me. So, I want to apologise. But I need you to tell me what happened,” you swallowed nervously, “please."

There was an awkward pause, a moment where Astarion didn't know what to do, what to say when faced with such sincerity and raw emotion. How would he even begin to explain what happened when he had spent centuries trying to avoid thinking about it for his personal sanity?

"I can't,” he began carefully, brows furrowed, fingers twitching. “At least I'm not sure if I can. But,” he paused, word coming out breath-heavy, “that, whatever that was, had nothing to do with you."

"Oh.” You looked away, whatever courage you summoned earlier used up at this point. “I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions."

Astarion rose in one swift movement. You were a breath away from each other, and yet not touching.

"I meant what I said that day. I did enjoy it. Being with you feels... like something else. Something new."

Untarnished, unspoilt.

"But it did bring up some less than pleasant memories."

"I'm sorry."

"Will you stop apologising, infuriating woman?" Astarion demanded sharply.

"I'm so-"

Astarion knew only one effective way of silencing you, so he pressed his lips firmly against yours, one hand finding itself in your hair, the other on the swell of your hip. You felt a tingle dance up your spine when Astarion coaxed your lips to open, his tongue slipping in to tangle with yours. You moaned into the kiss, the tension and worries of the past six days melting away until you felt like you were floating.

Remembering that you did, in fact, need to breathe, Astarion broke the kiss.

"No more apologies," Astarion admonished you gently. "Especially when you've done nothing wrong."

You nodded silently and quiet enveloped you both, Astarion looking at you with warm intensity as you ran your fingers through his soft, silver curls.

"And now, my dear," Astarion decided to finally ask you the question that has been on his mind for the past six days, "I believe we are overdue for a discussion of a different type. Because I simply can't go on another moment without knowing where you learned of plan B."

And this was when you told Astarion about your most prized possession - the library in the basement of your home with enough tomes to sink a ship. Astarion had never been more eager to get back to the Gate.

He simply had to survive long enough to see this. And then have you read to him from each one. Preferably naked.

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[feimeizm]

MILLION DOLLAR MAN! 🗒️ 𝖼𝗈𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋!𝗉𝗌𝗁

CHER𝒊E────𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗒, 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗐.

❪ 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓 ❫ 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌, 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝘀𝗶𝗰𝗸𝗹𝘆 𝗂𝗇 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝘆𝗼𝘂. ✶ downbad!coworker!psh & f!reader ୨୧ 𓂂 suggestive fluff imagine loser!hoon WORDCOUNT 1326

────✉️ ⦂ thank you anon who sent me this idea ! credits to okwonyo & flwrstqr for layout (check their blogs out they has great stories + layouts !) kissing scene is inspired by okwonyo's "LESSONS" story ! requests are open ! 💌 i hope this isnt bad. . . (╯_╰)

✦ ∬. 𝗖𝗟𝗶𝗖𝗞4𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘! 💌 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 !

this is the seventh time a cupcake has been gifted to you. the culprit? park sunghoon.

despite his cold demeanor, vampire-like looks and expressionless face—sunghoon has garnered a crush on you. the second you walked these pristine halls on your first day on the job, heels click-clacking against the dark wooden flooring–white blouse and black pencil skirt slightly ruffled—sunghoon felt lovesick, like he had a fever passed onto him.

at first it was small, brushing against your body when your paths collided at the coffee machine or at office meetings. is always naturally there to help you the second there's an error with the copy machine or the computer—as if he was already watching you. during office meetings, you would catch him trying to discreetly stare at your gloss covered lips across the mahogany table. whenever you would look back at him with an ‘ah-hah! caught you,’ glare, he would quickly focus back onto the presenter—but not without biting down on his bottom lip and bouncing his leg up and down, palms suddenly becoming sweaty.

it was cute, in your opinion, how sunghoon always tried being slick and maintaining his serious persona around you, but always manages to fail. he could barely look you in the eye whenever you two interact, an object behind you suddenly becoming way much more interesting. how despite his cold and blunt personality, sunghoon becomes a total stuttering loser around you, even in a mile radius. every time his eyes catch your figure (which means everyday), the tip of his ears become a light shade of red.

sunghoon never expected he would be this in love with you either, it felt like you casted a spell on him. you were so mesmerizing and hypnotizing in his eyes, like a moth attracted to a shining light. for every morning—he made sure to straighten his suit and tie to look presentable, cologne sprayed on (but not too much to be overwhelming), his glasses resting on his handsome face delicately. sunghoon made sure to look perfect—just to impress you.

then, the cupcakes started coming.

while you were making small talk with one of the other employees, you had mentioned that cupcakes were your favorite dessert, but you unfortunately couldn’t eat them anymore as you were too busy with work.

then the next day, you discovered a cupcake in your cubicle. you didn’t know who exactly put it there, but you did have an idea.

then the next, and next, and next cupcake began appearing out of no where on your desk. you felt thankful for this unknown vigilante, but still curious on who it was. you wanted to find out.

after the seventh cupcake came, you brewed up a plan in your head. you made sure to go to bed earlier than usual to arrive at work prior the expected time to arrive, wanting to catch the mysterious cupcake giving hero. as your heels clicked against the oak office flooring, your steps turned to a halt. there, in your office space, was park sunghoon.

“so it was you.” you smirked, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes. you rested your right hand against your hip as sunghoon’s body slowly turned around, eyes wide and jaw open—like a child getting caught stealing cookies.

“oh, uh- what? me?” you could see the panic flooding in his eyes as he awkwardly wiped his now sweaty hands against his straightened pants, which now became not so straight. as you peeked behind him, a silver of a red velvet cupcake came in your view, your grin becoming wider at the sight.

“yes. you.” you point an accusing finger at him, enjoying the way sunghoon became more embarrassed and shy every second in your presence. park “cold” sunghoon’s persona began to fade away quickly, all because of you. it’s so funny how he becomes a blushing and stuttering mess, so unlike what your coworkers have been gossiping about in these office halls. sunghoon visibly gulps, his adam’s apple moving as a line of sweat trails down his neck already, like a mouse caught in a trap.

“you know, if you would’ve asked me out directly instead, i would’ve gladly accepted that offer.” you said, voice dripping with tease. you strided over to him, the noise of your heels and his hastily growing beating heart pounded loudly against his ears. you tapped your long, manicured nails against his chest, just to see him falter even more under your touch. sunghoon kept trying to look everywhere but at your beautiful glistening lips, just mere inches away from his own. despite you being physically shorter than him, he almost felt his knees buckle underneath him once your eyes met.

for a few seconds, you just stared into each other's eyes longingly; the moment brief but it felt like forever. your eyes were just as beautiful as every other part of you, licking his lips when he saw you bat your pretty lashes at him.

then, you moved even closer to his face, now centimeters away. sunghoon’s breath hitched once he felt your hot breath so close to his lips, his hand fidgeting as he tried his best to not kiss you right then and there, holding his desire back from unleashing. your unwavering gaze made his stomach twist with butterflies, his brain engraving the view of your majestic face so close near his. sunghoon wasn’t sure if this was actually happening—if this was just another one of his fantasies of you and him he imagined at night.

as both your lips finally connect like two puzzle pieces, he sighed into your mouth softly. you gripped onto his tie to pull him even closer, surprising him at your action. he groaned into your mouth—the taste of your watermelon lip gloss paired with the smell of your cherry blossom perfume overwhelmed his senses intoxicantingly, selfishly wanting every part of you. your lips on his lips felt so right in so many various ways; words couldn’t describe how exploding this intimate moment between you two felt.

as you let go of his mouth for a breather, he initially whined, wanting more, but soon he felt glad your lips parted—since he could take in this very attractive sight of you. lips parted and wet mixed with spit and lip gloss, eyes hazy with need, cheeks a dark shade of red—god, you looked absolutely beautiful right now. sunghoon’s hand found the nape of your neck, eagerly connecting your mouths once again to have the sweet taste of your watermelon lips touching his taste buds.

you both could care less of his glasses getting in the way, equally feeling as desperate and as needy for each other’s mouth.

“always dreamt of this—” his voice is wobbly between kisses, the sound of his heart drumming against his ears like thunder.

“i know, handsome,” your pet name drives him into a bigger spiral of desire, whining into your mouth as licks your bottom lip—inserting his tongue inside your delicious mouth. you jolt at the feeling, not expecting it but welcoming his tongue inside anyways. you were both so lost in the moment, wanting to touch and feel each other’s body against one another more—no doubt, you both needed each other.

“uhm, guys?” a voice broke out, stopping the kissing to a halt as a mix of embarrassment and panic appeared on both of your faces. “sorry for ruining your uh, fun time.” one of your coworkers, jay, awkwardly apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. before you two could mutter any word from glossy lips, he immediately turned on his heel and walked away hastily, embarrassed on what he just walked into.

the second his footsteps faded away from your earshot, the both of you burst into laughter, the ridiculousness of the situation hitting you two. as you started to catch your breath, you yelped when sunghoon suddenly grabbed your hips under his firm hands.

“wanna continue what we were doing?”

────𝗙𝗘𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗜𝗭𝗠 ⦂ do NOT copy nor translate any of my works. add credits if inspo. 💌 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 @gnarlyhoons @hooniedollie taglists & requests are open !