#KILLING MAIMING BITES YOU BITES YOU KILL KILL VIOLENCE KILL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

athenamikaelson · 2 months ago

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Klaus Mikaelson x Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Pt. 18

Word Count- 3.9k

Warnings- Swearing, self-inflicted wounds, violence

“No, because we’re mad at Jeremy right now, Theo.”

Theo glares at me from the front door as I hold his car keys hostage, “Correction, bitch. You’re mad at him. My babe made a small error, that’s no reason to hold me hostage, from him.”

I grip the keys tighter and glare at my little brother, “Small error?! Theo, he cheated on Bonnie! How is that a “small error!”

Theo thinks to himself for a moment, tapping his chin, “Well…he said he was sorry. Aren’t we all about forgiveness?”

My eyes narrow at Theo’s question and I fight back the urge to hit the back of his head with my palm.

“You’re thinking of hitting me right now aren’t you,” Theo purses his lips.

“Maybe…”

Theo and I watch each other for a moment before the ringing of my phone distracts me. This gives Theo the opportunity to snatch the keys out of my hands and I glare at him as he books it out of the front door.

“Theo, you little shit!”

“Hasta La Vista, Nerd!”

I clench the phone in my hand and press the answer button as I watch Theo swerve out of the driveway.

“What,” I bite out into the phone.

“Damon, Pukey. Who pissed you off,” Damon Salvawhore’s voice exclaims sarcastically on the other end of the line.

“What do you want, Demon?”

I can practically see the eye roll he’s giving me right now as he responds, “You need to get your ass down to the grill and calm down your girl. She’s freaking out.”

“Why is she freaking out? What happened,” I hurriedly reply but realize the asshole already hung up on me.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”

—-

“Jeremy, the minute that you get this, call me.”

I play with the blue darts in my hand as Elena leaves yet another voicemail to her brother. I tried calling Theo as well but the little asshole shut off his phone.

“Man, you’re feisty when you’re mad,” Damon throws a dart at the board and I frown heavily when I see he made a bullseye. Future reminder- Don't play darts with a vampire.

“It’s not that I’m mad. I’m just, I’m worried,” Elena tells Damon and I line myself up to take my turn. I raise my hand with the dart in between my fingers and pull back.

“Why? He lost his job at the grill? I think he’ll survive, Elena.”

“He’s spiraling,” Elena defends and I fight back the urge to roll my eyes.

Even though Elena is my best friend, practically my sister, and I love her, after I found out what she did to Rebekah before the homecoming dance, I’ve been a bit ticked at her.

—

“You did what!?”

Elena flinches back at my loud voice. I had just gotten back from the homecoming dance 30 minutes ago when Elena ended up on my front porch.

“We couldn’t trust her Y/n! I had to do it, nothing could go wrong. We had to kill Klaus,” Elena raises her hands as she tries to reason with me.

“And how did that work out for you?! Klaus is very much alive, the only one who could kill him is now dead, and when an already heavily pissed off Klaus finds out you stabbed his little sister in the back, LITERALLY, how do you think he’s going to react!”

Elena just sheepishly looks at her hands.

“And besides…stabbing Rebekah in the back, after she agreed to help?! Elena…I expected better from you,” Elena goes to speak but I raise a finger, “I’m not finished. Why exactly did you hide this from me? Everyone else knew of this plan, why not me?”

I grit my teeth as my mind goes through the idea that has been plaguing the back of my mind ever since I joined Elena’s friend group.

“I know I just became friends with you guys and I’m nothing special or anything… I just thought,” I press my fingernails into my palm, “I don’t know what I thought.”

Elena walks towards me and shakes her hands, “Y/n that’s not what this is about at all! Of course, you’re a part of us. It’s just that we didn’t want you getting hurt. You’re human and…”

“So aren’t you,” I interject, “Elena I’ve been stabbed, shot, kidnapped, maimed, and harassed by multiple supernatural creatures. And yet I’m still here. I’m not some child who needs protection. I’ve protected myself for years, and I will continue to do it until the day I stop breathing.”

“I know I just…”

“I think it would be better if you leave,” I walk to my bedroom door and open it, “I’m angry and I don’t want to say anything that’ll damage anything.”

Elena opens her mouth and then closes it. I watch silently as she nods solemnly and then walks through my door.

“We’ll talk soon?”

I turn at the teary brown-eyed girl, “Ya…sure.”

—-

“Ever since Bonnie broke up with him,” Elena continues.

“Rightfully so,” I pipe up as I close one eye trying to focus on the board.

“He’s moody and he’s not really talking to anyone.”

My eyebrows furrow and I look back at Elena, “You do realize Jeremy and Theo can’t go even a few hours without the other before one of them starts hyperventilating, right?”

Damon nods and agreement and Elena just frowns.

“She’s got a point, Elena. And besides he’s a typical teenager.”

“Who’s seeing ghosts and who’s lost practically everyone that he cares about?”

“Not everyone. He still has you and Jenna,” Damon responds and turns around and nudges my shoulder.

“You going to shoot that thing or what,” He gestures to the dart in my hand.

I take a deep breath in and then out. I pinch the dart in between my fingers and bring my hand back. With one final breath, I throw the dart forward and watch as it lands just an inch away from the center.

I smile happily at Damon. He smirks at me and then quickly shoots his next dart. My smile instantly disappears as he shoots it once again into the bullseye.

“Die.”

Damon raises his eyebrows in shock at my comment before rolling his eyes.

“Already did that sweety, catch up.”

I huff as Damon walks to the board and harshly grabs both of our darts off of it. I turn to Elena who shoots me a questioning look.

“You okay,” Elena asks him.

Damon turns around, “What makes you think I’m not okay?”

“That’s a loaded question,” I sarcastically reply.

“Well, you’re day drunk,” Elena responds and I fight the urge to remind her that that isn’t a new thing, “It’s not exactly your most attractive look.”

Damon walks closer to Elena, “Oh. What is my most attractive look?”

“Uh-uh. I’m not saying that you have an attractive look. I’m just… saying this is my least favorite one.”

“I’m going to barf,” I groan out as I take Damon’s hand and peel my darts from his palm.

He lifts his hand for me to take my darts but doesn’t take his eyes off of Elena, “Noted. See if I can make any improvements.”

I’m still holding onto Damon’s hand when a British accent sends a chill down my spine.

“Don’t mind me.”

“Fuck me,” I throw my head back and sigh.

Damon, Elena, and I both turn to see the Original hybrid leaning against the table in front of us.

Damon instantly steps in front of both Elena and me as he takes my hand to push me back.

“Klaus,” Elena frightenly says, and the hybrid smirks at her.

“You’re gonna do this in the grill in front of everyone? It’s a little beneath you, don’t you think?”

“It’s not like he couldn’t just compel everyone here Damon. So don’t piss the guy off,” I lean up to whisper to the vampire.

“It appears the princess here is the only one of you with a set of brain cells,” Klaus glances at me and then his eyes move to my hand that is gripping Damon’s. The Original’s eyes narrow and I quickly detach my hand from Damon’s. Confusion fills me as I see a smirk build onto Klaus’ face at the move and he looks at me once more before turning back to Damon.

“I just came down to my local pub to grab a drink with a mate,” Klaus turns around to a brunette man standing behind him, “Get a round, then, would you, Tony?”

“I’m surprised you stuck around town long enough for happy hour.”

“My sister seems to be missing. Need to sort that out,” At Klaus’ mention of Rebekah a feeling of guilt washes through me and I fight the urge to not glare at Elena.

“Cute, blonde bombshell, psycho. Shouldn’t be too hard to find,” Damon sarcastically responds.

“It’s almost like the pot calling the kettle black, Salvawhore,” I’m not sure why I’m defending the blonde Original but something about Damon insulting her pisses me off.

I once again gain Klaus’ attention but this time his smirk drops slightly and an odd look covers his face. As if he’s not sure why I defended his sister either.

Klaus quickly turns his attention back to Damon and stalks towards us, “Truth is… I’ve grown to rather like your little town. Thinking I might fancy myself a home here.”

“And what is so special about this little town? There are plenty of others for you to inhabit and rule over,” Damon snarks and Klaus narrows his eyes.

“I have some reasons… or maybe just one,” Klaus smirks at Damon but I could’ve sworn he glanced at me for a split second.

“I imagine you’re wondering how does this affect you,” I try to take a step back, but Klaus grabs my hand and pulls my fingers apart. I try to fight him but his hold is firm as he takes the darts out of my hand. He pauses for a moment when he sees the small red fingernail marks in my palm. I release a deep breath as he traces his thumb over the marks.

I furrow my brows as I look up to the man who appears to be in thought. But a moment later he locks eyes with me and his once thoughtful look turns into a glare as he pretty much rips his hand from mine and storms by me.

“The answer is, not in the slightest. As long as I get what I want and everyone behaves themselves you can go on living your little lives however you choose,” Klaus turns over his shoulder to look at Elena, “You have my word.”

I roll my eyes at Klaus’ mocking tone.

“What more could you possibly want,” Elena shakes her head at the man.

Klaus points at her and takes a step forward into her space, “Well, for starters… you can tell me where I might find Stefan.”

Damon steps over to them and places himself between the two, “Stefan skipped town the second he saved your ass.”

Klaus turns back around, “Well, you see, that is a shame.”

He quickly shoots the dart and I groan as he makes a perfect bullseye.

“Seriously?!”

Klaus doesn’t spare me a glance as he walks back over to the other two.

“Your brother stole from me. I need him found so I can take back what’s mine.”

“That sounds like a Klaus and Stefan problem,” My eyes practically fall out of their sockets at Elena’s comment.

Klaus tilts his head and starts walking toward her and I find myself going to step in between them but Damon beats me to it. Klaus turns and smirks at the younger vampire, letting out a low laugh. And I feel my face warm up at the sound. Really dude?!

Klaus turns back to Elena, “Well, this is me broadening the scope, sweetheart.”

Klaus stands back up to his full height and smirks devilishly at the two before walking away.

Damon and Elena look at each other worriedly and a thought goes into my mind.

“I’ve actually got to go. I’ll talk to you guys later,” I grab my bag and quickly run off before either of them can say anything.

I turn the corner of the restaurant where I had seen Klaus just walk down but when I turn I see no one. I frown as the idea I had quickly falls away.

I turn back around but jump back surprised, seeing Klaus leaning against the wall not even a foot away. He’s looking at me oddly and I fight back the wave of nervousness I get from being so close to him. Nervousness because he could kill me at any moment. No other reason.

“Looking for someone?’’

I grip my bag strap tighter as I bounce lightly on my feet.

“Yes, actually. You.”

My answer seems to confuse him as he tilts his head, “Oh? And why is that?”

I blow out a breath of air, “I had to ask you a question…or two.”

I watch silently as Klaus watches me as well. He leans forward and stands up. He starts walking, or stalking, towards me and I try to find the willpower not to take any steps back in fear. But as he comes to stand so close our feet practically touch, that becomes hard.

“And what makes you think you can ask me any questions?”

“Because you have such a pleasant demeanor?”

Klaus’ upper lip twitches for a moment, “Is that so?”

“If I say yes will you let me ask you my questions?”

Klaus looks down at me and his eyes make their way over my face.

“I have things to do, you can ask two questions only,” He pauses for a moment, “And for each question…you have to answer one of mine.”

I frown at his deal, but I still nod.

“Fine.”

Klaus smirks, “Then ask away, Princess.”

“I hate it when you call me that,” I snarl and he lets out a laugh that makes my chest hurt.

“That wasn’t a question.”

“Fucking fine… Why do you have Alastair stalk me?”

Klaus doesn’t seem surprised by my question as he once again leans back against the wall.

“I can’t answer that,” He replies and raises his hand to glance at his fingernails.

“Seriously! Are you serious right now!? For months I thought this guy was my first friend that I made on my own and then next thing I know NOPE HE’S A FUCKING VAMPIRE!”

My outburst has Klaus quickly leaning down into my face, “I suggest you keep that voice of yours down,” He glares at me, “For one, we wouldn’t want any of the locals to know about your little friend’s secret…and two, I don’t take kindly to people who raise their voices at me. Matter of fact, the last person who did, I ripped out their spleen and fed it to them.”

I clench my fists hard as I glare at the man, “Is that what you’re going to do to me then,” I bite out and Klaus leans in so our noses are almost touching.

“Trust me, Princess. What I have planned for you is far worse.”

I take a step back in shock, “So you do have something planned for me? Is that why Alastair is following me.”

Klaus closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose as if my presence irritates him. To which, it probably does.

“To answer your question, perhaps. Let’s just say I need you to stay as you are, pretty, unharmed, and horribly obnoxious.”

I pause and my glare instantly drops, “Wait…you think I’m pretty?’’

Klaus goes back to leaning against the wall and staring at his fingernails, “Is that the only thing you heard? Not the obnoxious part?”

I frown at his comment, “Takes one to know one.”

Klaus turns his attention back to me and smirks, “You think I’m pretty too?”

I deadpan at the man, “No. I was calling you obnoxious aswell.”

Klaus smirks at me some more before shrugging his shoulders, “Whatever, you say. Besides…your heart tells a different story.”

I freeze up and can feel the warmth coming back onto my face as Klaus smirks down at me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I try to deny and Klaus’ smirk somehow deepens.

“Umhm,” He raises a finger and drags it over my warm cheek. I shove his hand away and he lets out another laugh.

"I think you might be catching a fever then. Your face feels hot."

I slap his hand away quickly.

“Just ask your stupid question, already!”

Klaus leans back and thinks to himself a moment before raising his hand to show me his palm.

“Why do you do that?”

I frown and he takes this as a sign to explain.

“I saw those fingernail cuts in your palm. Why do you do that?”

I pause again and shake my head in denial.

“Don’t try to lie to me, I can hear your heartbeat,” Klaus sternly says and I sigh.

“I don’t know why I do it,” I lean back against the wall next to him and bring my right hand up to look at my palm. The crescent-shaped marks are freshly red and ugly.

“Sometimes I get angry and think it would be better to hurt myself than those around me,” I say my thoughts out loud, and then freeze when I realize what I had just said. I look over to Klaus but he’s already looking at me.

“I’d rather hurt those around me than hurt myself,” He remarks and then looks at my palm that I still have raised, “You should too.”

“That’s where we’re different,” I lower my hand and put it into my sweatshirt pocket, “I don’t want to hurt those around me. And I don’t get joy from it either.”

Klaus narrows his eyes at me, “Your mistake.”

“Is it though? Is not wanting to hurt others truly that bad?”

Klaus tightens his jaw and then quickly grabs my hand from my pocket and shoves it to my face, “When it results in you hurting yourself then yes, Astin Min. I would much rather you hurt everyone else.”

“Why? Why does it matter to you,” I question him and he drops my hand and stares at the wall in front of us.

“Is that your second question?”

I bite my lip and then cross my arms over my chest, “No.”

Klaus doesn’t turn to me, “Then ask your second one already.”

I pause for a moment thinking over if I really want to ask him this, “Um… when you get your family back from Stefan,” Klaus turns his head slightly to look at me, “Will you wake Elijah up?”

At the mention of his brother Klaus’ once calm demeanor seems to darken.

“And why do you care,” He stands up and takes a step away from me.

I shrug my shoulders trying to act nonchalant, “I just don’t think he should stay daggered.”

Klaus’ nostrils flare and my nervousness from before comes back as it looks like he’s going to kill something. Or someone.

“My brother will be awoken when I wake him,” Klaus practically snarls out.

“That’s not the answer I wanted,” I glare at him.

“Too bad. My turn,” He harshly says, “Who shot you?”

I frown at the question.

“Excuse me?”

“I want an answer, Princess. Who. Shot. You,” Klaus stalks towards me with every word.

“Why do you care?”

“You’re out of questions.”

“Why? Want to tell them they have a nice aim or something?”

Klaus’ blue eyes darken and a chill goes through my body.

“Fine,” I sigh, “It was the Sheriff. But it was an accident. She meant to shoot Damon.”

Klaus continues to stare at me for a moment before rolling his shoulders and nodding his head.

“This has been a fun chat, Princess. Unluckily for the both of us, I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other soon.”

That’s the last thing Klaus says before he walks back down the hall and I’m left somehow more angry and pissed off than ever.

—

“Of course, Elena. Theo and I will be home all night. Once again I’m so sorry. Let me know if you guys need anything.”

I hang up the phone and then run a hand over my face.

“Are you okay?”

I quickly fake a smile at Theo as he walks into the kitchen.

“Ya, I’m totally good,” I lie. How exactly was I supposed to tell my little brother his football captain compelled his best friend to walk in front of a speeding car driven by a hybrid?

Actually…

“Your football captain compelled Jeremy to walk in front of a speeding car driven by a hybrid,” I quickly blurt out to Theo who is staring at me blankly.

“Wait…Tyler did what?!”

I raise my hands up realizing I could’ve eased him into this.

“Tyler’s a hybrid. Which is a vampire slash werewolf mix. And vampires and werewolves both exist because the supernatural exists. Caroline, Stefan, and Damon are all vampires. Elena is a doppelganger which means she's got an old-ass twin who is also a vampire… Um, Bonnie is a witch, and um… I think that’s it. I wanted to tell you but I also wanted to protect you. But with everything going on and with Jeremy almost getting killed I realized that leaving you in the blue might be the worst thing to do. I am so sorry.”

Theo blinks at me. And then blinks at me again.

“I know this is a lot to handl-”

“I know.”

I frown at Theo’s words, “You mean you know this is a lot to handle?”

Theo walks by me and grabs an apple from the dining table, “Nope.”

I open and close my mouth about a thousand times and Theo just watches me as he eats his apple. He’s got about halfway through it before he speaks again.

“Is Jeremy okay?”

I open my mouth again and then just silently nod at my brother’s chill deamor.

Theo nods, “Good,” and then takes another bite.

“Good? What the hell do you mean good?!”

I throw my hands into my hair and pull on it in exasperation. My brother leans against the kitchen island and watches my tantrum with a bored face.

“Would you have rather Jeremy been not good,” He asked nonchalantly and I think I’m going to scream.

“What the hell is going on?!”

Theo must be getting tired of my screaming because he throws the apple core in the trash and then walks back over to me, “Jeremy told me about the supernatural like weeks ago. He knew what it was like being left in the dark and didn’t want that for me. Unlike him though, who had a hissy fit when his sister kept it from him, I understand why mine did it. I appreciate you trying to keep me out of this, but when my main bitch, and my sister are a part of the supernatural world. That means I am too.”

I stand with my mouth hung open as my brother pats me on my shoulder, “I’m going to let you have a moment to yourself. We’ll chat later.”

I watch bewildered as Theo casually walks down the hall and back towards his room.

What the fuck?!

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year ago

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Getting Thrashed

Female Alpha Yandere x Male Omega Reader (CW: Noncon/dubcon, heat cycles, scent kink, pheromones, non-traditional a/b/o dynamics, NO mpreg, enslaved reader, conquered society, general yandere behavior, teasing, biting, claiming, space pirates) Word Count: 3.4k (WOW, sorry that took so long. I started off writing fast because I loved the idea then lost motivation halfway through. Hope you guys enjoy the second female yandere fic I have written and the first one I have written with smut. Also first fic I have written where the reader penetrates the yandere.)

Your day on the space colony of Nithyal started out like any other. You diligently did your assigned work of farming a wide array of essential foods for the colony.

It was pretty vigorous manual labor, but you didn't mind. You rather enjoyed the scent of fresh soil and ripe fruits.

And you were fairly compensated. Everyone was in Nithyal. After all, the colony was on the planet Solstan. And it wasn't called a paradise world for nothing. The weather was agreeable, there were few dangerous animals, and everyone lived harmoniously. No homelessness, no corruption, no hunger, no violence. You were very grateful to live in such a place.

Especially since you were an omega.

Many generations ago, human fertility was greatly diminishing. In a bid to save the species, there were numerous fertility experiments.

One of the most extreme experiments that altered human DNA and psychology the most resulted in two new variants of humans: Alphas and Omegas.

They were both given extreme fertility, but what good is being fertile if you just end up with a barren partner?

So they were both given heightened olfactory senses, with omegas being given genes to produce pheromones that alphas were attracted to and vice versa.

They were also capable of quickly forming intense bonds with their romantic/sexual interests.

But the biggest difference from unaltered humans was that alphas entered ruts and omegas had heats. These periods of ultra high libido were to make sure they were compelled to procreate.

The gene editing was not without unintended consequences.

Alphas tended to be larger, stronger, and more aggressive than normal people, and omegas had a tendency to be smaller and a bit more submissive.

Alphas also tended to be possessive and jealous, even going so far as almost always needing to mark their mate with a permanent bite.

These behavioral concerns lead to the discontinuation of the program. Specifically, concerns about omegas maintaining their agency when faced with such forceful alphas that could easily sniff them out.

Human fertility was restored through more refined gene editing later, with suppressants being developed for the humans already altered and their descendants so they could mask themselves.

Heats and ruts were only partly suppressed, though and it wasn't too hard for someone to discover who was an omega when their life was put on hold in a predictable pattern once every few months.

It wasn't ideal, since most people hated such altered humans.

But Nithyal was different. Everyone just cared about each other and didn't bother with any judgement.

There was no better place in the galaxy.

That was... until the dark day that a pirate fleet came from the deepest reaches of known space to upend everything.

They were called The Eternal Eclipse. And they certainly eclipsed any joy you found in Nithyal.

Your people tried to mount a defense, fighting bravely with the few ships and ground to air weapons that were available, but given their numbers there was no chance of victory.

Your colony was pretty isolated from the rest of civilization so once conquered there was little chance of liberation.

They quickly killed or at least maimed anyone who tried to fight back or organize a rebellion.

The colonists had become little more than slaves.

Many continued the hard labors they had before, with more demand to support the new ruling population, others were forced into personal servitude for the higher up pirates, and a decent chunk of the population became personal fuck toys.

At first, when the pirates had gathered up all of the colonists to assign them their fates, you were mercifully going to continue the work that you had already been doing.

But unfortunately you somehow caught the eye of Thrash and for some reason she had taken a liking to you. So instead of cultivating plants, you were forced to be by her side all day as a simple servant. This probably wouldn’t have been too bad if the violent leader didn’t happen to be, against all odds, an alpha.

You had never met one before but you could tell right away. Her scent, her attitude, the fact that she was larger and stronger than most adult men. She had hair like fire and an energy and attitude to match.

At first you were worried that she had pegged you for an omega, but she gave no indication that she knew. You were in constant fear that your omega nature would be discovered. It wasn't unheard of for omegas to be brutally raped, sold to far off black markets, or even just outright killed. Surely if she had known you wouldn’t just be a personal slave.

It seemed that your suppressants were enough to completely hide yourself from her, and you had a huge supply of them. Though you knew for a fact that once your heat started, your pheromones would poke through. And you’d also be rather horny. Maybe you could feign illness and cover yourself in perfume?

That was probably your best bet. Though you hoped no one would notice that you got ill like clockwork. Luckily you still had plenty of time until your next heat.

Working for Thrash wasn’t too physically demanding, you just had to clean up after her, prepare meals, and do little odd tasks like deliver a note or something to one of her subordinates. You actually got a lot of down time between tasks… though you always had to stay nearby in case Thrash needed something.

The overworked farmers would have surely enjoyed such a relatively cushy work detail, but it was absolute hell for you. It was like walking on eggshells, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Thrash hadn’t treated you poorly, never hit you. But you had no idea how an omega would be treated.

It was especially scary when she decided to tease you, just because she enjoyed watching you squirm.

When she licked your neck in the cafeteria in front of all her dining pirate crew she cackled at how your face turned red and you got as still as a statue as your brain shut down. You were terrified that she could smell or even taste the omega on your skin.

Thrash didn’t really know why but something in her made her love flustering you. She just couldn’t help it. She had always enjoyed making men uncomfortable or putting them in their place, but you were a bit different. It wasn’t like it was with her male pirate colleagues, where she strove to be the best and made them obey her. No, this was different, seeing your face turn red made her hungry for more.

One night she dismissed you with a smack on the ass and let you go to bed while she stayed up drinking with her best buddies. You felt humiliated and rushed off to your room, which was one that was in the house she had claimed for herself in case she needed you for something she wanted you close by. You were really like a live-in maid.

You tidied up a few things before washing up and going to bed, still embarrassed about having your butt touched in public. Despite that you managed to go to sleep pretty quickly.

Though a few hours later a very drunk Thrash comes stumbling in drunk. You wake up with a jolt and nearly jump out of your bed as a strong arm wraps around your waste and firmly pulls you close.

“Mmm where ya goin cutie? Ya need to stay close to yer alpha!”

She lightly grinded into you for a moment, her crotch against your ass before stopping and nuzzling into your neck.

“Thr-Thrash… uh… I think you accident-”

She shushed you by licking your neck and nibbling a bit. You went still as stone. If she broke the skin the special enzymes in her alpha saliva would cause you to have a permanent mark. Fortunately that didn’t happen, instead remaining content with sloppy kisses, sucking, and gentle nibbling.

You couldn’t help but let out a series of little whimpering moans at the sensation. You also became aware of just how nice she smelled. So dominant. Kinda… safe…

She chuckled at your noises.

“Haha, you’re practically a tiny defenseless omega!”

That made you shake the thoughts and distractions from your mind. This woman was not safe. She stole your home and turned you into a glorified slave. If she knew what you were she’d sell you to the highest bidder!

Luckily after that comment she had passed out in a drunken stupor.

You managed to extricate yourself from her grasp before scrambling to get to the restroom. You had to double check to make sure that the bites that Thrash had so kindly applied to your neck had not broken the skin, luckily they hadn’t.

But you still looked absolutely horrible. Your neck was covered in little hickeys, your hair was a mess, and you were so shaky from the rude awakening that you could barely stand.

Something about looking so debauched made your cock hard. Maybe it was because you had her alpha stink all over you or maybe it was something to do with the bites all over your neck. Maybe it was just because you weren’t used to the attention.

It didn’t matter why the result was the same, you had to do something about this almost painful arousal. And the scent that clung to you.

As you got in the shower you gave your cock the attention it was demanding, thinking filthy and shameful thoughts about Thrash. You tried to pleasure yourself to other thoughts but your mind kept drifting back to the oppressor of your people and the way she smelled as she bit and drooled all over your neck.

You couldn’t spill until you imagined her leaving a permanent claiming bite on your neck.

After your shower you felt dirtier than you had before you got in. You reminded yourself that you hated Thrash and that she and her crew had done to upend the lives of you and your people. It wasn’t your fault she made you aroused. What omega wouldn’t have been after that?

After you got dressed and left the bathroom you wrapped your spare blanket around you and slept in the chair in the corner of the room, you would have rather not been in the same room as the drunk alpha, but you had nowhere else you could go.

When Thrash woke up she found you sleeping soundly in the room and it took her a moment to realize she wasn’t in her room. She must have kicked you out of your bed. She did feel kinda bad about it, but she figured you would live. She was the one with the massive headache.

She went back to her quarters, leaving you to sleep a bit longer.

When you woke up you found her, thankfully gone, you wrapped a scarf around yourself to hide your neck, the weather was cool lately so no one should give a second thought to you wearing one. Then you left to start your day of servitude as you did everyday.

Unfortunately for you, you had to accompany her as she went on one of the landed ships to see what the problem was with it since she had originally been a mechanic and engineer. It was very hot in the engine room.

“How are you wearing that scarf? It’s so hot in here.” The heat wasn’t the only problem you were dealing with, she was sweating and only wearing a tank top, allowing her musk to practically smother you.

It didn’t really take all that long for you to get more than a bit dizzy and flustered. And once you were, it took even less time for Thrash to notice, she often kept an overprotective eye on you, though you had rarely noticed.

She came stomping over and looked down at you.

“I told you it was too hot for that! You’re gonna get sick dumbass! Take it off and let’s go outside for some fresh air.”

You fidgeted under her gaze and mumbled that you were okay.

When you didn’t take it off immediately she growled, jerked you over to her, and yanked it off of you.

She stared wide-eyed at your neck, not remembering having put the marks there herself the night before. And she was fucking livid.

“When the fuck did you hook up with someone, you fucking slut!? You belong to ME and I didn’t give you any permission for that shit!”

The enraged alpha slapped you hard across the cheek, making you yelp and stumble to the ground. You were sobbing and could scarcely manage to croak any words out.

“I-i d-d-didn’t l-let anyone d-do-”

Had one of her men defiled you against your will? Defiled HER slave?

“Tell me who did it!! I’ll cut their dick off and shove it up their own ass!”

Her eyes were like a cats, narrow slits. Your naturally submissive instincts told you to put your head down and obey anything the near feral alpha might demand of you.

“Y-you were dr-dr-drunk and b-bit me last night…”

Tears were leaking down your face. If you had not been on suppressants your scent would surely be one of fear mixed with pheromones to calm down this beast.

That’s right, she had woken up with a bad hangover in your room...

Thrash stared at you, at this tiny crying man in front of her, crying and terrified. She felt awful, and she didn’t often feel bad about her actions. She was a pirate, but for some reason she just didn’t like seeing you suffer at all. Certainly not because of her.

“Fuck… I’m… sorry…” She managed to say as she knelt down and rubbed your back.

“I really have no memory of last night...”

The large powerful woman picked you up easily, with your head nuzzled into her neck, crying into her.

“C’mon crybaby, let’s get you cooled off, I’ll deal with this engine later~”

She carried you carefully back to your room in the housing building, collecting odd looks as she did, which she quickly got rid of with a glare each time.

Thrash placed you into your bed and felt your head with the back of her hand. Despite not having the scarf, having been exposed to the cool outside air on the way over here, and now being in an air conditioned room you were hotter than ever.

Your mind was getting foggier and when she left to go get a cool rag and some medicine from the bathroom you finally realized why you were so hot. You were entering heat. The neck stimulation and all of Thrash’s dominant behavior over you must have somehow triggered an early one.

You had to leave before she came back and smelled it. It would only be a matter of moments before the smell broke through your suppressants.

Something in your brain was telling you to just stay there and let your alpha come back and take care of you, but the other much more grounded in reality part of your brain was telling you you had to hide in a utility closet somewhere and deal with the consequences of your absenteeism later. Better than being sold off or raped by every pirate who wants to try out an omega.

Right then you really wished suppressants just completely eliminated heats completely instead of just diluting them a bit.

Right after you had that thought Thrash entered the room and saw you standing by the door, you saw her hand had a bottle of pills. Though her search in your medicine cabinet yielded no fever reducers she found something else hidden away under your sink. Your suppressants.

And then your scent hit her. It was dulled by your medication, but she was an alpha unused to omega pheromones in any capacity.

She growled low and her pupils were like slits as her stare bored into you angrily.

“You’re MY property! And you’re keeping secrets from ME!?”

Before you could stumble out the door she charged at you, picked you up and slammed you down on the bed a bit harder than she had intended. You looked away, unable to meet her domineering and angry gaze. Your only response was to instinctively whimper in submission to placate her rage.

Thrash sniffed you, inhaling your scent from your underarm to your neck. You leaned your head over to give her easier access and show that you submitted to her will. You were terrified and she could certainly smell it.

Some of her drool dripped onto your neck as she hovered above it, licking you tentatively to calm you down. She was going to bite you and make you into her personal fuck toy and mate, she was mad that you had hidden your nature from her, but she would never hurt you.

Thrash sucked and nibbled at the gland in your neck, with you gracing her ears with a new whimpering gasp or moan each time she touched the sensitive spot.

Your terror evaporated quickly, replaced by heat fueled desire. And if you were honest with yourself maybe not all of the yearning was born from your heat.

The lust filled alpha couldn’t help but inhale your scent over and over, it was literally a drug for her. She had already wanted to fuck you into oblivion even before she got a whiff of you in heat, but now there was no stopping herself. Already she couldn’t wait to drink in your smell during your next heat when your suppressants were out of your system.

She made a mental note to flush them after this.

The pirate rubbed your crotch, palming at your erection, getting you even more aroused before she bit your neck. Hard. Her fangs pumping into you something that would make you smell claimed to any other alphas and leaving a large permanent hickey on that portion of your neck.

You moaned out loud in painful pleasure, arching your back and thrusting your clothed arousal into her hand.

Thrash licked your bleeding wound and then turned her attention to your cock and her own pleasure.

You could only stare and writhe in need as she pulled away from you and took off her clothes.

“Gimme a second, I just need to get our clothes off!”

It was the first time you had seen her breasts. You were in awe of this figure above you. So strong and assertive. So beautiful. A perfect partner.

To her you were the beautiful one. So sweet and pretty and perfect put in your place below her.

She practically ripped your clothing off and buried herself back in your neck as she brought herself down on you, enveloping your entire length in the warmth of her cunt. Her hands pushed down your shoulders as she rode you.

Your pleasured moans mixed with her grunts and growls as she fucked you until you saw stars. Your first orgasm was really quick, and was not nearly enough for either of you. Another perk of heats, insatiable libido.

With each of her downward movements you thrust upwards, desperate to get as deep as possible, the scent of her aroused pheromones combined with your heat making you absolutely unable to care about anything else.

You didn’t care that she had conquered your people or that she controlled them. In this state it only made her stronger in your eyes. A more suitable mate. You wanted to fill her up with so many babies.

The sex lasted hours, until the both of you were too sore to keep moving. It finally ended with you clinging to her and using her tits as a pillow with her arm wrapped around your protectively.

When the fog of pheromones and heat left your brain you were horrified by what had happened. But if you weren’t owned by her before, the new mark on your neck meant you certainly were now, and she would never let you go.

#Female Yandere x Male Reader #Male Reader #yandere omegaverse #Yandere a/b/o #Yandere scenarios #Alpha Female x Omega Male Reader #Omega Male Reader #yandere girlfriend #My OCs #My OC Thrash

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celestiamour · 3 months ago

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‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pocket powerhouse ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @klerns-birdie ˚₊ ⊹

ft. logan howlett x f! reader x wade wilson — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ entering the void with their tiny, mighty companion┊1.4k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: canon typical blood & violence (and murder lol), reader is described as short & cute, super strength mutation, reader is the one who kills sabertooth in this one, fourth-wall break

➤ author's note: this was funnier in my head

they had you surrounded on all fronts, some standing before you and others on armored vehicles, holding their weapons and fists up ready to strike at any moment. if they didn’t clearly have bad intentions, then you would have been flattered at this little welcome party gathering together after only a few minutes of being sent into the void. they probably heard the ruckus wade and logan were making since they simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

meaning, they couldn’t stop beating each other up and using any means necessary to shed blood or break bones despite it all being healed within the span of seconds.

you find the only successful way to get them to stop trying to kill each other is by threatening to kill them first, throwing a punch into the ground to destroy it under you as a means to grab their attention while shouting that you’ll decapitate them if they continue.

they listen to you most of the time and drop the mini battles, not because they believe you would actually do it, but because they believe they are humoring you by doing so (and because they know to sit down and shut up when a pretty woman tells them to). with super-strength as your mutation, you could do it with ease, they know you can— it’s just so difficult to think that such a cute little thing who pouts when ignored and is frequently used as an armrest due to short stature would ever do anything of the sort. you still have yet to act on your warnings, only depending on bloodlust-filled glares to settle them down much like a teacher waiting for her noisy class to be quiet.

logan thinks you all bark and no bite, wade compares you to an angry bunny, it’s safe to say they take what you say with a grain of salt, exchanging amused looks and admiring how cute you are when yelling profanities and gory details of how you’re going to maim them. (blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name— backstory stuff)

the three of you cringed at the failure of johnny storm, grimacing when his balls probably got crushed on a metal pole and every time he hit his head before getting captured. his end goal was clearly to escape, but you didn’t quite know how he was planning to get there when he set himself alight and started flying.

“i know you!” a large man with flowing blonde hair jumped off the tank, landing with a heavy thud on the compacted sand.

“oh my god, that’s sabertooth, peanut’s brother,” wade explained.

“brother? they don’t really look anything alike aside from being… uh… feral?”

“well you see, apparently there are some discrepancies about that. the author isn’t sure about anything because her bitch-ass still hasn’t watched any of the x-men movies or done her research. something about ‘being too busy with real life,’ can you believe that?”

“okay, you lost me when you started talking about ‘an author,’ but lay off her!”

sabertooth growled at logan, “ready to die?”

“hey, don’t threaten him! i don’t care if he’s your brother, he’s my friend!” you interrupted, walking up to him, acting nonchalantly like he was a teddy bear when he was truly a grizzly. he was much taller than you too, towering over you and leaving you in his shadow.

“get outta my way, girlie” he barked, extending his claws, prepared to sink them into your flesh. “you’re lucky you’re cute, or else i already would have killed you.”

“aww, thank you! but i can’t accept compliments from someone who wants to kill my friend, so to that, i say ‘fuck off!’”

before he could let out a roar about how you should know who you’re talking to or swipe his claws at your face, you lifted your hand and slapped him across the face. it was much like a dramatic slap from television shows where the girl finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her or something, except his head went flying off into the distance and sprayed blood everywhere. it happened so quickly that his body stood there for a second before flopping over.

“oh my god!” wade exclaimed, cupping his face in his hands from surprise before excitedly clapping them together, “oh my god, that’s my girl— that’s our girl! see, that’s what happens when you enlist a y/n on your team, i told you that it was a good idea to take her with us!” he picked up the decapitated head and waved his arms around, paying no mind to the dripping red iron spilling on his costume, “you bitches saw that? she’s cute ‘n tiny but mighty, and she’ll absolutely fuck you up!”

the victory was short-lived as they took advantage of logan’s adamantium skeleton and other large pieces to scrap to trap all of you to a magnet. normally, this would be a breeze for you to get yourself out of, but you got hit in the head and quickly fell unconscious for them to ship you all away to cassandra.

when you finally woke up, you’re tied back-to-back with johnny and find your two companions in a similar position. “are you guys okay?”

“they’re asleep, but i’m okay,” logan answered, voice uncharacteristically amiable. despite being just as annoying as deadpool, he liked you a whole lot more and never spoke to you as roughly as he did to him. you were sweeter, more empathetic and understanding that he needed his own space, and, he isn’t going to lie, very easy on the eyes. “and you?”

“i’m okay! my head really hurts though…” you winced and shook your head a few times, trying to get the pounding sensation out. “god, this place is crazy. first we get teleported to this junkyard and then—”

“did you really mean what you said back there?”

“what did i say?”

“well… you…” god, he felt stupid, he was about to back out and say ‘nevermind,’ but he knows that you wouldn’t have let him go so easily. “you said that i was your friend…”

“yeah! you are! i mean, i killed your brother for you even though you could have done it yourself, putting myself in danger just so that you didn’t have to— you better consider me a friend too!”

he should tell you that you shouldn’t call him that nor think of him that way since nothing good ever comes out associating with him, but he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s routinely told others to successfully push them away. something about the look in your eyes, the way they sparkled when you looked at him. something about your smile, toothy and full of hope for the future to make up for his lack of. something about you makes him keep his mouth shut.

instead, he looks away, muttering a quiet word of thanks.

you tilt your head in slight confusion, not understanding the depth of your statement yet and how it managed to pull a word of gratitude out of a man who was in a constant state of irritation, but it made you irrationally happy and giddy inside.

wade was murmuring a few unintelligible sentences before coming to, and despite wearing a mask that covered his entire face, you could envision the mild look of disgust behind the leather as clear as day. “ew, why are you smiling like that??” he took a glance at you and then back at him, repeating the process a few times. “what the fuck? you guys can’t have a love story and leave me out of it! i’m the reason you two even met—” he finally seemed to process the situation from the close proximity with logan, looking him in the eyes through the white fabric of his mask and trying to find a way to loosen it to no avail. “how long have i been asleep?”

“not all of you was asleep.”

johnny seemed to wake up as well, beginning to tell a whole bunch of exposition about this place you were trapped in, something about a monster that would swallow you up and a “her” who runs this entire place. he laughed at the notion of evading this woman’s grasp, but wade thought otherwise.

“nah, we can take her! i have a pocket powerhouse and the wolverine on my side, i’m not scared of anything!”

no one quite believes him, but it’s nice to see that your optimism has rubbed off on him.

#📜. her works #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #wolverine #wolverine x reader #deadpool #deadpool x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #marvel #marvel x reader #x men #x men x reader

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alovesongtheywrote · 2 years ago

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Cranberry Juice | Eddie Munson x Reader

♥ Summary: Getting kidnapped from a grocery store wasn't exactly on your to-do list, but neither was having sex with your blood-drunk vampire boyfriend on the dead bodies of your captors, so... [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]

♥ Warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. Violence, gore, kidnapping, gun related violence & violence against women, drinking blood, drinking blood in a sexual nature, biting, minor character death, derogatory terms used for the reader by someone other than eddie, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink, very brief dubcon, monster fucking, angst, fluff.

♥ A/N: holy fuck, i haven't written a fem/afab reader in years. i've also never written smut before, so this is new.

♥ Word count: 15945

♥♥♥

You would think that in the two years following the murder of Chrissy Cunningham and the supposed death of Eddie Munson, Hawkins, Indiana would have calmed down a little bit. You would at least assume that they would put down their pitchforks and torches and give Eddie’s friends and loved ones some room to breathe- after all, Eddie’s name had been cleared of any and all crimes, and he was, as far as they knew, literally dead.

But nope!

Nope! No! No way! You still couldn’t leave your house without receiving a thousand angry glares from a thousand angry hicks. Really, you didn’t feel comfortable leaving the house alone anymore, and no one could blame you for that. Between the threats you’d received, the shit you’d seen, and the way the town banded together to hunt down your boyfriend in 1986, you were more than justified in feeling unsafe.

This drove Eddie up the fucking wall.

You were his partner, the love of his undead life, and he couldn’t protect you from the same town that initially drove him into hiding- the town that he had died saving. He couldn’t protect Wayne, either, or the Hellfire Club kids for that matter. He couldn’t shield any of you, or stick by your side throughout the day- the wings and claws that Vecna had so graciously given him upon his return to the living made hiding a little more than necessary. And hey, if those new features weren’t bad enough on their own, Hawkins still wanted Eddie’s head on a pike. If any Hawkins citizen saw him like this, in a new and monstrous form, that would be more than enough of an excuse to murder him then and there.

In short, Eddie was helpless. His new features, the claws and fangs which were meant to maim and kill were useless when it came to defending his loved ones. He was entirely unable to take care of the people he loved most, and he hated it.

Anger and resentment festered inside of him. He worried about you whenever you left the house. Even when you were safe with him, a dark corner of his mind still spiraled through all the horrible possibilities. He wanted to keep you safe, to keep you unharmed and alive, and the idea that he wouldn’t be able to do that gave him a sense of dread like no other.

And then his fears were realized.

It started out as a simple shopping trip. You needed to pick up a few things, so you went out to get them. That’s how most people go about grocery shopping. It was normal. Painfully average considering everything else going on in your life, and honestly, you kind of liked that.

You didn’t go out alone. Max also needed to pick up a few things, so you brought her with you. You were smart about it. You both kept your guards up and your keys between your fingers. You were safe. Or you were until you fell for the faux sense of safety provided by the fluorescent lights and the bland music playing overhead- a sense of safety that would be brutally fucking shattered.

Before that, though, you were just looking at juice.

The grocery store shelves in front of you were filled with bottles and bottles of beverages. For a moment, you pondered just how many forms of cranberry juice a company could make. The answer was a lot, apparently.

At your side, Max was fidgeting, impatiently tapping her cane against the ground. You couldn’t blame her, you’d been staring at juice for like, five minutes.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet, “If it’s cool with you, I’m gonna go grab the-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you snapped out of your juice-induced haze, “Go for it, I’ll be here.”

Letting her go was your first mistake.

She nodded at you and left the aisle, ignoring the pointed glare served to her by a middle-aged woman who occupied the aisle with you. As soon as Max was gone, the woman’s glare found its true target. The killer’s girlfriend. The Munson boy’s accomplice. You.

Unfortunately for the woman, your attention was already back on the juice.

Apple. Blackberry. Blueberry. Cranberry. Cran-apple. Cran-pineapple. Cran-mango. Cran-cherry. Cran-pomegranate. There really were a lot of cranberry juices. In all seriousness, you didn’t actually care about juice that much. It was just a nice distraction from the oncoming-

“Devil’s whore.”

Oh, yep, there it was.

You said nothing as the woman swore at you. You tuned out her whispered rant about your audacity- the nerve you had to go out in public after dating that ‘child-murdering monster.’ You were used to this treatment. Not everyone in Hawkins was this intense. Some were worse, and some were better, but there were enough angry citizens kicking around for you to grow numb to the insults. As long as they weren’t threatening your life, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. You just focused on the juice and let her voice fade out.

That was your second mistake.

You tuned back in to the sound of a click- the sound of a gun’s safety turning off. Panic filled your body as you returned to your surroundings. The woman was gone. Where she had vanished to was a mystery, but you didn’t really care. Not when, in her place, a man stood, aiming a gun right at your stomach.

After noting the gun, the first things you noticed were the man’s eyes- ice blue, cold, and cruel. He wore a sweatshirt beneath a white and green varsity jacket, the hood of which he had pulled up and over his blond hair. It was a clear attempt to provide your attacker with some anonymity- of course, that was instantly cancelled out by the print on the sleeve that read, “Hawkins High, ‘84.” He was your age- and when you looked closer, you realized that you knew him.

Kurt Robertson. He had been a classmate of yours, a jock who had treated “freaks” like you and Eddie rather poorly. Clearly, he had continued his athletic pursuits given his muscular frame. Fear pooled in your stomach as you realized that you were no match for him. You wouldn’t have been a match for him even if he didn’t have a gun.

You put your hands up slowly, “Hi, Kurt. It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Don’t even try it, bitch. Come with me,” he grabbed you by your shoulder, pushing the gun into your hip.

“Uh, maybe,” you were playing with fire, “Can I ask what this is about?”

“You know full well what this is about. That freak boyfriend of yours murdered Chrissy- he murdered Jason, too. They were good kids, and there’s no justice for them.”

“So you decided to find some at the grocery store?”

“Shut up, bitch, I’m talking,” he slammed you into the shelving unit. You yelped like a wounded animal. Two bottles of cranberry juice fell to the floor, cracking open as they met the ground. Red spilled across the tiles.

“I’m here, we’re here,” he gestured to the store’s exit. The implication of backup made you shiver, “To do good by Jason. And Chrissy. Munson took their lives- we figured we’d return the favour. Send his slut to hell for him.”

A crooked smile spread across Kurt’s face as he let you go, pulling back from the shelves. He gestured to the glass doors again, “Now, let’s get a move on, shall we?”

“What, you’re taking me to a secondary location? Too afraid to kill me where everyone can see it?” It was an attempt to escape- to convince this guy to let you go. If you could get him to fuck off, you might be able to slip out the backdoor and get to Eddie. If you got to Eddie, you would be safe.

“No,” Kurt pressed the gun back against your stomach, “I just respect this fine establishment too much to get your fucking guts all over it.”

“This is a grocery store.”

“Hey!” your head jerked to the side to see who had spoken. Kurt did the same. Max was standing at the end of the aisle, her groceries in one hand and her cane in the other. She looked angry, murderous- you were proud of her for that glare alone.

“Is there a problem here?” she scowled at the man in front of you. You felt the gun turn. Its side pressed against you, hiding from view in the fabric of your shirt. The barrel was aimed at Max. Shit.

You turned back to face Kurt. He wouldn’t look at you. His eyes were fixed on the red-haired girl- his new target. You had to protect her. She’d probably be pissed at you for having that thought, but you had to protect her.

“There’s no problem,” you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, “I just ran into a former classmate.”

Max looked like she didn’t believe you in the slightest, not that you could blame her for that. Everything from Kurt’s proximity to you to the juice on the floor spelled out trouble. You blinked.

“Actually, do you think you’re good to find your own way home? I think I’m gonna be a while. Just catching up, y’know?”

You blinked again- three short blinks. Three long blinks. Three short ones. You hoped she noticed.

She stared at you for a minute, looking deep into your eyes before nodding. She coughed out a quick, “Yeah, it’s fine. See you around,” and with that, Max was gone. You could only hope that your message had been received.

Kurt waited for a moment. The doors opened and closed. Max had left. Now, it was just you, a man with a gun, and a dozen shoppers who didn’t give a shit about whether or not Eddie Munson’s whore girlfriend got shot in the middle of the juice aisle.

“Kurt,” you tried, watching as he took in your surroundings and fixed his eyes on the door, “Chrissy was a good kid, and I’m so sorry that she’s gone. She didn’t deserve to die, but I promise, Eddie didn’t have anything to do with it-”

He took your arm in a grip that would surely leave bruises- if you lived long enough for them to form. You winced but continued on, trying again to free yourself diplomatically, “And Jason- Jason was extreme, you have to admit, but I’m sorry about him, too. He did some awful things, but he wasn’t evil-”

“Yeah, you’d know a lot about evil, wouldn’t you?” Kurt sneered, pulling you out of the store and into the alleyway behind it. A pickup truck was parked there, waiting for you. Diplomacy had failed. You had to try something else.

The first thing you did was grab the gun and shove it away from you. Kurt’s arm went with it, and he stumbled slightly. You stumbled, too, but your balance came back to you faster than his did. You used your brief advantage to punch your assailant in the face. Your fist connected with his jaw, sending Kurt right to the ground.

You shook out your hand and took a step away, momentarily stunned by your pain and your power. The doors of the pickup began to open. You ran. You were being chased by former jocks. You didn’t get far.

Two arms wrapped around you- one around your chest, and one around your neck. You tilted your head down and bit as hard as you possibly could. The guy screamed, letting go of you just as another pair of arms took hold.

You struggled, turning around in the man’s hold and scratching at his eyes. Someone ran behind you and grabbed at your arms, trying to stop you. You thrashed, hissing and fighting like an angry animal. It was futile.

You were pushed to the ground and a gun was pointed at your face. Kurt glared down at you, his eyes full of hate and his lip gushing blood. The rest of the boys backed off for the moment, standing on the sidelines, watching their leader.

“I should kill you. I should kill you right now you fucking bitch. Send you to hell with your Satanic fucking boyfriend.”

“Then do it,” you barked, adrenaline and impulse speaking for you more than anything else, “Kill me. Unless you’re scared to do it you quivering pussy-”

Kurt slammed the gun into the side of your head. Your vision went black. Your hearing faded to a soft buzz. Blood dripped down the length of your face. You didn’t feel it. You couldn’t feel anything. You didn’t hear the panicked whispers of the jocks, nor the quietly exclaimed, “Holy shit, dude! You fucking killed her!” or the, “She’s not dead, just knocked out, calm the fuck down,” that followed it.

For the moment, you were out of the game.

The boys loaded you into the truck as fast as they could. Their arms held you down, their hold on you tight, as if your unconscious body would spring up and perform a series of badass jiu-jitsu moves on them. That didn’t happen, but they wanted to be prepared.

The pickup sped out of the alleyway, putting the grocery store in its rearview mirror with law-breaking speed. If any of the jocks had bothered to look in said rearview mirror, they would have noticed a red-headed girl using the payphone that stood near the grocery store parking lot.

“Eddie? It’s Max. We have a problem.”

You woke to the stench of rotting wood and decomposing hay. Beneath you, a filthy concrete floor provided a cold embrace. Small stones and various pieces of dirt and debris dug into your soft flesh. In this position, your leg was twisted under your weight at an awkward angle.

Damning the discomfort, you kept still. Every part of you was tense, ready, waiting for some sign or sound of your abductors. Nothing happened. The only sound was the faint scurrying of mice, and the wind blowing through the trees outside. Still hesitant, you opened your eyes.

Most of the structure around you was made of decaying wood. Planks and beams extended across a vast room, stretching up to a high ceiling to meet with crumbling rafters. In some places, red and white paint had been applied to cover up some of the damage, but after years of neglect, the attempted solution had faded and chipped away.

Beams of golden sunlight streamed into the barn through dirty glass windows, and through a large square hole in the wall that had once housed a door. Far above your head, shitty old lights buzzed harshly, illuminating all of the grime that the sun couldn’t reach.

Outside, you could see a weed-filled field running off to a line of trees in the distance. Brambles twisted up near the barn’s entrance. Wildflowers bloomed among nettles and thorns. Vines tangled with the faulty wood of the walls. Even inside the barn, little sprouts popped up through cracks in the concrete. Dandelions puffed near rusted old farming equipment and piles of wasted hay.

This place was oddly beautiful- and clearly abandoned. You were far from help, and from the sound of it, you were completely alone.

Cautiously, you got to your feet. The spot of concrete that had served as your pillow was stained red. You didn’t want to think about that too hard. Putting it out of your mind, you took a few shaky steps, stumbling your way toward the exit. Your bruised body screamed in protest. The sound of your footfalls echoed through the barn. You kept going. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice.

A rusty pitchfork lay against the wall a few feet from the hole in the wall. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have touched the thing for fear of tetanus. Unfortunately, these were not normal circumstances. You armed yourself quickly and continued on, inching forward until the concrete turned to gravel underfoot.

You didn’t make it far.

The sound your movements made alerted your captors to the fact that you were awake. You could hear something drop around the side of the barn- something heavy. Male voices swore loudly. The sound of curses and other exclamations rang through the field, polluting the otherwise beautiful golden hour.

You looked around, desperately searching for a place to hide. You found nothing. There was no hiding place among the weeds and brambles, no space for nature to pull you in and protect you. Your fists tightened around the pitchfork as you realized that this would come down to a fight.

Unfortunately, you were right.

Jocks ran out from behind the barn like ants swarming from a hill. Someone cried out, “Skin only! Don’t kill her yet!”

You vaguely recognized some of the faces before you- the first one was Andy, one of the jocks who had been after Eddie in ‘86. You were able to push him back with your makeshift weapon. The next jock, unfortunately, got much closer. The smell of weed assaulted you, which was quickly followed by an actual assault. A fist met your cheek, and you staggered back, keeping yourself up with the handle of the pitchfork.

The jock didn’t let up. Another punch came your way, but you managed to step back and avoid it. The guy kicked at you weakly, but you easily dodged that, too. In retaliation, you raised the pitchfork and brought it down flat over the guy’s head, knocking him to the ground.

Alas, you were still surrounded. Five more jocks were perfectly ready for a fight, and you were quickly running out of strength and luck. Panic and pain surged through you as another hit connected with your jaw. A fist collided with your stomach. You fell to your knees. Another hand met your face. A ring broke the skin of your lips. Your chosen weapon fell to the ground as blow after blow fell upon you.

You did your best to shelter yourself from the attack. Sharp aches echoed through your limbs with every blow. You tried to separate yourself from the moment, mentally and physically. Curling into a ball on the ground and disassociating didn’t exactly make you feel brave or heroic, but it kept you from taking too much damage. Still, you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day- if you lasted that long.

You barely noticed when the kicks and punches stopped coming. You only snapped out of it fully when someone grabbed your arm. You winced. It was the first reaction they’d gotten from you since the attack began.

“Good,” Kurt grinned, “We didn’t break you.”

You said nothing, biting back several sarcastic remarks. None of them seemed appropriate for the situation. Instead, you slid your tongue over your lip, collecting the blood that pooled there. The next time Kurt opened his mouth to speak, you spit in his face.

“You fucking bitch!” Kurt shrieked, wiping frantically at his face, “Tie her up and get her back in the barn. We’re gonna take this slow, got it? She doesn’t get a quick death.”

Kurt’s lackeys obeyed. Someone bound your wrists together in front of you with duct tape. Rough hands pulled you up from the ground and shoved you back toward the barn. Fear began to take anger’s place as they threw you to the concrete. Blood dripped from your lip to the floor. You watched as it bleed between rocks and cracks below you. How much blood would you lose tonight?

Your heart raced. Breath escaped your battered lungs, but you couldn’t seem to pull any air in. Kurt glared down at you, his form outlined by the light of the setting sun. He looked at you like you were some sort of vermin he had to dispose of. You were sure that in his eyes, that was the truth.

The gun was in his hand.

“Remind me, Andy. How did they find Jason’s girl again?”

“I dunno. They didn’t even let her parents see her face. But Patrick,” Andy knelt down in front of you and grabbed your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look at him, “I got to see Patrick. All of his bones were shattered. Some kind of freak ritual, I guess.”

“Well, we don’t have a freak ritual, but,” Kurt aimed the gun at your leg, “We can always improvise. Answer me this, boys- will a bone break apart if you hit it with a bullet?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

His finger wrapped around the trigger.

A deafening bang echoed off the barn’s walls.

The sound didn’t come from the gun. Something had crashed into the roof. Dust reigned down on you and the boys as you all looked up, peering at the ceiling. Above you, the old lights began to flicker. The air seemed to chill by a few degrees.

The jocks staggered slightly, their eyes off of you and fixed on the ceiling. They all jumped as the horrendous screech of tearing metal met their ears. Whatever had landed on the roof, it was now clawing its way off. The boys turned to face the door, gripping their weapons and putting up their fists.

An inhuman sound split the calm twilight. You knew it well- that unnerving, predatory growl. You’d heard it a few times before, while running for your life in the Upside Down. While you watched the bats tear your lover apart. You fell back, crawling deeper into the barn.

The lights flicked off.

When they came back on, Eddie was standing in the would-be doorway of the barn, wings spread and fangs bared.

“Is that-?” one of the jocks whispered.

“Munson,” Andy spat. Kurt raised his gun, aiming the barrel at its new target.

He didn’t get the chance to shoot.

Eddie attacked first. He flew forward, seizing the face of the nearest man in his claws. In seconds, the man’s head was nothing more than a bloody mess. Screams filled the air as the first jock fell to the ground. Eddie fell with him, teeth to the man’s neck as blood pooled around them, a blood-red mirror on the concrete floor.

Your attackers stood stunned as Eddie moved on, leaving a body behind. Garnet drops flew to the floor as Eddie tore the next attacker into tiny little pieces. You were almost hypnotized by the way Eddie’s teeth sunk into the guy’s neck, by the way Eddie’s claws tore through his flesh. You could practically hear the sound of blood draining from his veins. When he pulled back, Eddie’s sweet brown eyes were blood red.

He was quick to jump at his next victim, claws and fangs tearing, and slashing, and biting until the man stopped moving.

It was only after that third man’s body was drained that your attackers shook themselves from their reverie and began to retaliate. They’d been aching for a chance to hurt Eddie for years. Now, they had even more of an excuse to kill him- if Eddie was a freak before, then what was he with wings and fangs? To them, he was a monster. He always had been, and he always would be.

They attacked.

It wasn’t too effective, all things considered. A fist flew at Eddie, and in response, he grabbed the offending hand, pulled the man close to him, and put his claws through the man’s chest. You almost felt sick at the sight of it- your boyfriend’s hand, rings and all, coming through the back of a man who beat you minutes before.

You knew Eddie was stronger now, inhumanly so, but you had never seen him use that strength like this- not on a person, at least. You were never afraid of Eddie. You knew that he would rather die than hurt you. But watching what he could do to a human- it filled you with unease, and with some other emotion that you refused to name.

That nameless emotion screamed in your ears as Eddie pulled the man towards him using the hand still in his chest. Eddie brought his fangs to the man’s throat and drank.

The sound of wood splintering filled the air as Eddie blocked a blow from a bat with his claws. He pulled his mouth away from his latest victim’s neck so that he could handle the weapon. He discarded the bat quickly, throwing it clear across the barn. He threw the wielder next, impaling him on some old farming equipment. The dandelions that lived beneath the aged machine were showered in a gush of ruby and wine.

Andy was next. He came at Eddie with a crowbar, and your stomach turned as you realized that all the jocks’ weapons- the bats, the crowbars, and the gun- were meant for you. You winced as Andy managed to land a hit, striking Eddie in the shoulder with enough strength to down a regular man. Fortunately, Eddie was not a regular man. He seized the crowbar and bent it, letting it fall to the floor.

“You- you killed Chrissy! And Patrick, and Jason-!”

Eddie’s eyes bore into Andy’s, speaking untold volumes, simmering with rage. Eddie wiped the blood from his mouth and took a step toward the jock.

“I didn’t kill any of them. I didn’t touch any of them. But you? You made my girl bleed. You’re gonna pay for that.”

In seconds, Andy was on the ground, unconscious or dead, you couldn’t tell. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth. Eddie didn’t bother drinking from him.

For a moment, then, the world fell silent. Eddie’s eyes met yours across the barn, across the sea of blood that he had spilled to protect you. Despite the gore, despite the blood that stained Eddie’s hands and the space under his nails, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him. He was here. You were safe now.

But thinking that was your third mistake.

Eddie smiled back, and as he did, another ear-piercing bang echoed through the barn. There was nothing on the roof. There was nothing clawing down to the barn. There was nothing but you and Eddie, Kurt and his gun.

Eddie brought his hand to his side. When he moved it away, his skin was stained with both his blood and the blood of those he’d slain. You screamed. Eddie fell to his knees. Kurt took aim again. He levelled the gun at Eddie’s head.

You leapt at Kurt, using your bound fists as a weapon. You caught the man by surprise, knocking him right to the ground. The gun slid across the floor, away from both of you. Kurt quickly took the advantage, rolling over and pinning your hips to the ground with his. He raised his fist and brought it down on your face, once, then twice.

He didn’t land a third punch. Eddie tackled him off of you, hurling Kurt’s body away from yours. He stayed in front of you, protecting you from Kurt, blocking him from view. He was your shield, keeping you safe and out of the other man’s reach. Eddie snarled like an animal- a predator. It was a warning to Kurt. A message telling him, on no uncertain terms, to stay put.

Kurt did no such thing. He jumped at Eddie. Thick fingers dug deep into the bloody mark on Eddie’s side. He cried out in agony- the sound was something akin to a roar.

“You’re a monster,” Kurt yelled, his hands now covered in the dark cranberry shades of Eddie’s blood, “You’re a FUCKING MONSTER!”

Eddie stumbled backwards, a pained gasp leaving his lips. Your attacker showed no mercy. He advanced, landing a hit on Eddie’s jaw. Eddie fell to his knees.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” Kurt reached for the gun. He couldn’t find it.

Another shot rang out.

The sound echoed around the barn.

Blood spilled out from the brand-new bullet wound in Kurt’s chest. He fell to the ground with a dull thud. His blood pooled beneath him, like cranberry juice on the floor of a grocery store. Another blood-red mirror to reflect another lifeless corpse. Another red stain on the concrete.

You stood behind him, gun held tightly in your bound hands.

Silence followed. You could hear Eddie’s panting, and the sound of your heartbeat rushing in your ears. The busted farm lights buzzed overhead. Outside, in the twilight, cicadas sang, serenading you both. Each breath you took was tainted by the iron scent of blood. A chill danced up your skin. The barn was still cold- so fucking cold.

Eddie was struggling. New blood coursed through his system, making every inch of him feel warm. Something beneath his skin started to itch. He wanted to move. He wanted to hunt. He wanted you. He wanted to see you spread out before him, breathless and quivering, completely drunk on his cock. He wanted the taste of your blood to stain his tongue. He could feel an unending pulsation spread through him, driving him forward, almost controlling him in a way. His eyes met yours for just a moment before he forced himself to look away. A growl left his lips.

Across the room, you watched Eddie’s silent crisis, completely unaware of the feral desires harboured behind his big doe eyes. His claws curled at the concrete. You could hear them scratching against it- almost carving through it entirely. His breath seemed to come faster and faster, his chest rapidly rising and falling with every second that passed. You panicked, slightly, taking a small step towards him as your fear for his safety overtook your brain.

You lowered the gun.

“Eddie?” You called out, shattering the quiet with your desperation. Your voice was weak, shaking. You sounded broken.

In an instant, Eddie was on his knees before you. His cold clawed hands ran up your thighs and over your hips, slender fingers checking for hidden injuries, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His movements were gentle, though they edged on desperate, almost animalistic. Your heart twinged with guilt as sparks flew from each place he touched. Despite the situation, you wanted more of this- more of him.

You got just that when his lips joined his hands. He painted each part of you with kisses, brushing his mouth over your knees, your thighs, your hips. He paused over the faint purple of a forming bruise on your leg, his touch hovering over it slightly as passionate concern tore a growl from deep within his chest. You could feel his breath against your skin, hard and fast, nothing short of panicked. His fear for you melted your heart. You whispered his name. It came out as a plea- a blasphemous prayer in a God-fearing town.

“I’m here,” he replied, his voice low, “I’m right here, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Are you alright?”

You nodded, trying to breathe again as you adjusted to the safety of his presence. His hands slid up your body as he leaned in, pressing his lips and then his teeth against the soft skin of your thigh. He bit down, enough to mark you but not enough to make you bleed, “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

You whimpered, taking his chin between your fingers, urging him to meet your eyes. His face was pale, and his normally messy hair was wild and slightly damp from sweat. Blood spilled from his bottom lip. You couldn’t tell if it was his. Gently, you brushed the blood away with your thumb. He leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes for a moment, letting himself be there with you. When he opened his eyes again, there was something dark contained in the sweet brown of his irises- a grim determination.

“Baby,” he groaned, raising a hand to your wrists, “I’m gonna untie you, and then-” he paused, taking a deep breath.

“And then?”

“And then I need you to run.”

“What? Why? What’s wrong-?” a fresh wave of panic shot through you at Eddie’s warning.

Eddie paused for a moment. When he spoke again, he almost sounded afraid, “It’s nothing. Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart. I just- I need you to run from me.”

“Eddie, what do you mean?”

He didn’t answer.

“Eddie- Eddie, please-”

He dug his fingers into your thighs, pulling you down and knocking you onto your back. A small cry escaped you. Your heart began to pound in your chest as one of his massive hands curled in the dust beside you. In the time it took to blink, he was leaning over you, caging you in with his body. One of his legs found its home between yours. The way he stared down at you was a new kind of desperate- he looked hungry. Empty. Starving.

“I’ve had too much blood tonight, baby,” he leaned in, nipping at your throat, all teeth, no fangs. He made a point not to bite, “And it did something to me.”

“S-something?”

He slipped his hands into yours, pinning your arms above your head by your still-bound wrists. He pulled back to look at you, ravenous devotion clouding his eyes, “Something, baby. I don’t know what, but I-”

He cut himself off, looking away from your face and shutting his eyes tightly as if he could somehow fend off what he was feeling by pretending to be somewhere else. His grip on you tightened, and you fought off the urge to whimper. Again, you whispered his name.

“I want to taste you,” Eddie sounded horrified at his own words, but he didn’t stop, “I wanna feel you succumb beneath my hands. I want to feel your heart race for me, but I can’t tell whether it’s your blood I want on my tongue, or you. And I- I can’t hurt you, so I need you to run, okay?”

His eyes were still closed. He still refused to look at you. He seemed so deeply ashamed- and yet, heat pooled inside you, flowing down to your core. You drew in a breath, your chest rising sharply. Blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your face until everything beneath your skin felt like fire. Your eyes widened. Your thighs shook slightly. Any sense of self-preservation you had was throwing itself out the window in the wake of the fire that Eddie had unknowingly set inside of you- a fire that you had no intention of putting out.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed at your physical response. He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear, “Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Of you?” your voice shook, and your body trembled beneath him, but a small smile took over your features at the thought, “Never.”

Eddie pressed his forehead against your shoulder. A small grin crossed his features, though there was no joy in it. There was something tragic in every movement he made. A desperate longing drove every action- a want for something he could not have.

“Goddamnit, I love you,” he whispered. His words were almost a whine, “But I need you to get out of here, okay? I need you to get somewhere safe, somewhere away from me, and I need you to stay there.”

He pressed his lips back to your neck, sucking your skin in between his teeth with enough pressure to bruise, but not to break. His claws bit into the tape, beginning to tear it.

“Eddie-” you spoke fast, panicking at the thought of leaving him like this, “Eddie, I’m not going anywhere. Not when you’re hurt. Look, I know you’re afraid to hurt me, and I know that you think you’re a monster, but you’re not,” you flushed as your voice broke, “You’re not a monster, Eds. You- you make me feel safe. I want to stay.”

He stopped tearing at the tape.

“Eddie,” you sounded more sure, “I’m here. I’m staying, and you won’t hurt me, you won’t lose control-”

“You don’t know that,” he hissed, his voice filled with so much self-loathing that the sound of it broke your heart.

“But I do. Eddie, everything you did tonight, you did to save me. To protect me. You aren’t gonna hurt me. You’re not-”

His hand was on your throat. He didn’t squeeze. There was no pressure, but his claws pricked in against your fragile skin. You should have been afraid of him, or at the very least you should have feared for your life. Eddie was dangerous. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but you’d just witnessed him murder several people with the claws that were now against your throat. But in fear’s place, that deep longing still burned inside of you.

”Baby,” Eddie warned, “I need you to understand. There is so very little inside of me that wants to be nice, and there is so much of me that wants to-”

A sharp sting spread out from your neck as his claws drew the tiniest drops of blood. He leaned closer to you, to your neck, “I don’t want to show mercy or kindness. I want to fuck you until my cum is spilling out of you, until you can’t move, and then I wanna keep going. I want to use you until you know that that pretty little slit between your legs belongs to me. I want to claim you. To own you. To ruin you for everyone else. I want you to bleed for me, and that is terrifying.”

He paused, releasing your throat from his hold and bringing his lips to your neck. He lapped at the drops of blood that spilled from the pinprick-like wounds he’d made. The second his tongue was on you, he took his other hand off your wrists and moved his touch down your body. He stopped at the hem of your shirt, his fingers biting into the material, almost tearing it like they had torn your skin just moments before.

“Sweet girl, I wanna fuck you until it hurts- fuck you while we’re surrounded by the bodies of our enemies- and then I want to drain you. I am a monster. And I want you the way a monster would. Do you understand?”

Again, you should have been afraid. You should’ve let him free your wrists, and then you should have run away. You should have screamed.

Instead, you moaned.

You couldn’t help it. It just sort of slipped out of you- his words, the intensity of his gaze, the sweet sting at your neck- it all poured gasoline on the already raging fire burning inside your core. Your legs fell apart for him, thighs spreading wide as arousal pooled between them. Eddie looked a little surprised.

“Did you- did you just fucking moan?”

You grumbled, desperate to hide your face in shame. Your humiliation doubled when you realized that with Eddie’s heightened senses, he could probably tell that you wanted him. He could undoubtedly hear the racing of your heart and smell the want between your legs.

“You fucking heard me,” you sighed, looking away in defeat, “But you- you can’t just say shit like that. You have to know that I want you.”

“You want me? To what, to kill you? Because-”

You cut him off, sighing again at your boyfriend’s dramatics, “Oh my god, Eddie, I want you inside of me.”

He froze for a second, stunned into silence. You took that as a cue to carry on, “I want you to fuck me. To claim me. I want you to use me, to ruin me, whatever, I just want to be yours.”

Eddie remained quiet, though his features had softened slightly. You turned back to face him, shoving your shame out of your mind. You sat up in his hold, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you encircled your still-bound arms around his neck. His eyes were still wide with shock, but there was an undeniable sense of adoration within them. In turn, Eddie saw no fear in your gaze- just determination. And arousal.

“I want you to take me,” you begged, twisting your fingers in his hair, “Right here, and right now, and if you have to do that ‘like a monster,’ then do it. I don’t care. I just want you.”

Another growl ripped itself from Eddie’s throat as he pushed you back to the ground, keeping your arms around him, “Do you understand what you’re getting yourself into?”

You nodded, leaning up and pressing your lips to his in a quick and surprisingly chaste kiss. He smiled against your skin- a genuine smile, this time. You’d convinced him. He sighed, reaching up to gently cup your face. He traced over your cheek as he spoke, “Use your words for me, sweet girl.”

You turned your head to press a kiss to his palm, “I know. Do you understand that I don’t care what I’m getting myself into?”

He raised an eyebrow. You continued, a devious smirk on your face.

“You could do whatever you want to me because I want this. I want you. And, hey if you don’t fuck me at this point, maybe I’ll do it myself and make you watch.”

On the last word, you parted your lips and bit Eddie’s hand. He choked. A blush covered his face, painting his features pink up to the tips of his ears. You smiled, satisfaction with your work sinking in as you leaned up to press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. His skin was warm, far warmer than the palm he had on your face just moments before.

Eddie shook his head, snapping out of his flustered state. His eyes darkened as want crept back into his gaze. He took your arms from around his neck, pressing a kiss to your hands before he pressed them into the ground above your head. You were pinned.

“Even now, you’re such a fuckin’ brat,” Eddie purred, “Y’know, it might be a little tough for you to get yourself off seeing as you’re, y’know, at my mercy, but I’d like to see you try. I can’t complain about a show like that.”

You gave a defiant wiggle, stretching your hands as much as you could with your wrists still pinned and bound, “I know. That’s why I-”

A moan swallowed your words as he pressed a kiss to the column of your throat. The sound heightened in pitch, becoming a cry as his teeth bit into your soft flesh. Eddie smiled against your neck as he released his hold on your wrists. His hands moved down your body, his actions slow, fingers weighed down by intent. His touch lingered by your breasts for a second, giving your tits a harsh squeeze before he reached further. A sharp gasp left you as you felt his cold digits press against the bare skin beneath the hem of your shirt.

His grip tightened on the fabric, claws piercing through it before he tore it from you entirely, leaving your upper body exposed to the chill of the barn. Goosebumps rose on your skin. Beneath your bra, your nipples pebbled from both the cold and your arousal. Eddie made short work of that garment, too, not bothering with the clasp. In less than a second, your bra was in pieces on the floor beside your poor, poor shirt.

Eddie paused, taking in the sight of your chest. His hands slipped up and over your waist, stopping just beneath your breasts, “Holy shit,” his voice was rough, gravely- and it had you arching up into his hold, “You’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking perfect.”

He leaned in, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, nipping at your flesh ever so slightly. His fangs threatened to pierce your skin, and you knew you wouldn’t mind if they did. You meant what you said. Eddie could have his way with you however he liked. He could cut you, bleed you, break you, and you would let him. You would lie there for him and just let him take everything he wanted. (Of course, you knew he wouldn’t. He loved you far too much to ever cause you real harm.)

You let out a whine, running your hands into Eddie’s hair. It was a little difficult- your wrists were still bound- but you did your best. He moaned, lips still against your skin, and you found yourself writhing at the sensation. Your body begged for more, for him to do more than touch and bite- you wanted to be fucked.

“Eddie, please- please,” the attempt was sweet, but your pleas went ignored. Eddie pulled his mouth away from your nipple, moving just slightly to mark up the rest of your chest. You tilted your head back, panting as his hands descended to the hem of your shorts, squeezing and scratching your sides as he went.

“Eds, please-”

“That’s it, good girl,” Eddie purred, teeth still against your chest, “Beg for me.”

You whined, bucking your hips up, trying to get some friction. Eddie laughed a little as you tried desperately to squeeze your thighs together. The leg he kept between yours prevented it, and you groaned, tugging on his hair in retaliation.

Eddie moaned, leaning back until you could see his eyes shut in pleasure, “So pretty. And such a fucking brat-”

He sunk his fangs deep into your chest. You cried out, digging your nails into his scalp. You keened weakly as he drank from you. He didn’t take much- he was already enduring what could be considered a blood overdose- but he did take enough to shut you up, to make you hurt.

When he pulled away, you were a mewling mess beneath him. Your whines only got louder when he dragged his tongue over the bite wound. A sharp grin exposed his fangs, now stained with your blood. He leaned in, kissing you deeply, sliding his tongue passed your lips. You could taste the copper tang of your life in his mouth.

He pulled away, breathless, and in seconds he was back on your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your arm, biting at your wrist and drawing blood before he moved back to your chest. He pulled your other nipple between his teeth, nipping and biting, making you whine. You moved your body against the thigh he kept between your legs, grinding on it. You were desperate and Eddie knew it.

He kissed down your stomach, biting at your hip as his grip tightened on the fabric of your shorts. You yelped at the sting of his teeth, the sharp piercing of his fangs in your flesh. Eddie’s tongue laved over your hip, lapping up the blood that dripped down your side. He tore your shorts to pieces before the blood could stain them, ripping your panties off with them.

A loud gasp escaped you, and you let out a whine as the cold barn air met with your dripping cunt. Eddie’s smile was almost shark-like. Lots of teeth.

“So pretty,” Eddie whispered, “And so wet for me, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the new bite mark hip before he continued, “Y’know, watching you fuck yourself for me- I’d only last so long before I just took you for myself.”

Two fingers moved up your slit, gathering your arousal before meeting with your clit. His skin was rough, callused from fighting and from his guitar. His touch was electric, sending shockwaves through your spine. You couldn’t hold back your moan, nor could you control your hips as they bucked up into his hand.

“S-so,” you tried to speak as his fingers moved in tight circles over your sensitive nub, “You’d still fuck me, then?”

“I’d clean your fingers off first, but yes.”

“Oh, good. So either way, I get what I want.”

He paused his ministrations and pulled his fingers away entirely, digging them into your sides. You made a noise of protest, but Eddie remained still. For a second, he just stared at you, half squinting. In the time it took to blink, his teeth were on your chest again. He didn’t break the skin, but he got so dangerously close to it that you couldn’t help but shiver as want dripped down your thighs.

Eddie’s grip tightened on you, and you wondered what the bruises his ring-clad fingers left on your hips would look like later on. An especially sharp bite pulled you back to the present. You mewled, whining as Eddie nipped at the soft skin over your heart. You could almost feel your blood pumping faster through your veins, sending that same fire through each one of your nerves.

Slowly, though, Eddie’s fangs distanced themselves from you. It was just his lips on your skin. The pressure was still bruising to be sure, but something had changed.

“I’ll give you whatever you want. Whatever,” you could feel Eddie speaking against you, his breath warm on your chest, “Whatever you want, just stay with me.”

A few short moments ago, he’d been begging you to run away from him. Now, he wanted you to stay. A quick kiss to your bloodied temple told you why.

‘I will,” you pulled his forehead to yours, locking eyes with him, “I promise I will.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, wrapping your arms around his neck as your nails gently scratched at his scalp. He melted into your touch before leaning in, pressing his soft lips against yours. The kiss was so gentle, so different from the harsh bites and scratches he’d delivered so far. Your body overflowed with want, a broken fountain pouring desire onto the floor.

“You,” you muttered against him, “Are everything I want.”

He looked down at you for a second, eyes wide and wanting. You leaned up, capturing his lips with yours. One of his hands came up, cupping your face gently, holding you like you were something precious. Your lips fit against his perfectly. The fire inside you was threatening to take down the goddamn barn.

You paused. Wrapping a strand of Eddie’s hair around your fingers, you gave a slight tug. You met his gaze with a small smile, removing your arms from around his neck and bringing them in front of you.

“Also, I would like to be untied, please.”

He laughed and did as you asked, freeing you with a swipe of his claw. Instantly, your hands were on his face, your fingers running over his cheekbones, sweeping under his eyes. With your new freedom, you were able to run your hands up and through his hair properly. Above you, Eddie seemed to purr.

Eddie lowered himself, kissing and biting down your breasts and stomach, leaving bruises as he went. His movements were the same as before, but there was a new passion to them. You brushed your fingers over his shoulders, scratching at him slightly. He gripped onto the soft skin of your inner thighs, threatening to tear into it. You arched your hips up towards him. He grabbed them, grip tight and claws digging in. You cried out quietly as he pushed them back to the ground. Your back stung slightly, but the pain was quickly put out of your mind.

“Stay put for me, will you, sweetheart?”

You barely had a moment to register his words. His lips met with your heat, and you cried out at the sensation. His tongue moved up and down, teasing your entrance before his lips closed around your clit. You couldn't keep your thighs from closing around his head when you felt the harsh edges of his teeth. He didn’t seem to mind. More than that, he moaned against you. You had to fight to keep still beneath him.

Eddie kissed and bit you, eating you out like a man starved, like an animal that hadn’t been fed in an eternity or longer. The pleasure he brought you was almost violent in nature. You let out a string of incomprehensible words, moaning and whimpering as he drank your arousal.

“You taste so good, baby,” he pressed his lips to your clit, “So sweet. You’re perfect.”

One of his hands slid back up your body, leaving goosebumps behind. He stopped between your breasts, strong fingers pressed against your sternum ever so slightly, holding you still. Over the next few moments, as his teeth and tongue teased you relentlessly, dragging you to the edge at a rapid pace, your hand slipped into his. His claws bit into your skin. Your nails bit into his.

“Fuck- fuck, Eddie-”

“Gettin’ close, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your words fell to nothing as you cried out his name, shaking as you came for him. Your voice echoed off the walls, and Eddie didn’t think he’d ever heard a sweeter sound. He could feel your heart racing under his hand, your pulse racing through your wrist. The way your fingers squeezed around his- like you wanted him, like you needed him- made him feel weak.

It took you a minute to come back to earth. You could barely hear Eddie shrugging off his shirt and jacket over the sound of your own panting. The metallic clink of his belt buckle meeting the floor as he removed it got your attention.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him. Your eyes traced up his slender waist, over scarred and tattooed skin. His wings cast sharp shadows over his body. He freed his cock from his pants, and you tried to keep yourself from drooling as it sprang up against his stomach.

Eddie had always been gifted. He had always been big, thick- the sight of him was always enough to make your mouth water. Even before the Upside Down had so kindly bestowed him with new shit, you thought he was perfect. But after?

You weren’t sure why Vecna had decided to give your boyfriend’s cock ridges and a few extra inches, but you weren’t about to look a gift dick in the mouth. You would never get used to the sight- it would always make you shiver with want, make you drip with need. Perhaps a rational person would be intimidated by the sheer size of him, by the ridges that now covered his length, but you? Never. You didn’t care about anything. You didn’t fear anything. You just wanted him.

Your eyes caught his- honey shining in the twilight, warm, wanting, and slightly hesitant. His pupils were blown out, dark voids drinking in the sight of you. He wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath. He wanted to take a second to kiss you and to hold you close. Eddie wanted to be gentle, but something deep inside him- specifically all the blood he’d drained from you and your attackers- demanded that he get his cock inside you as fast as he fucking could.

“Baby, are you- are you sure you want this? I’m not- I’m not gonna be nice.”

“I don’t care, I don’t-” you sat up, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him down on top of you, “I want you, Eds. I don’t care about anything else.”

“Okay. Okay, just- promise me you’ll stop me. If I hurt you, or if it’s too much, promise you’ll stop me.”

“I will,” you could barely hear yourself over the pounding of your heart, “Whatever you need, I promise.”

He took a deep breath before taking his cock in his hand, stroking it twice. He lined himself up with your entrance, pressing against you ever so slightly. He kissed up your jaw, pressing his lips against your ear before he whispered, “I love you. And I’m sorry.”

In one swift movement, he was inside you, buried to the hilt. You were wet and ready for him, but the sudden stretch- the sudden ache of his length pressing against your walls was still a lot for your already sore body to take. Tears sprang to your eyes. A scream tore itself from your throat before you could block it, mingling in the air with the sound of Eddie’s moans.

You could see the guilt in his eyes, but he didn’t slow his pace. His thrusts were fast and deep, almost violent in their intensity. The drag of his cock inside your needy cunt- the feeling of his veins and ridges against your walls- had your eyes rolling back, had you moaning like some mindless slut.

Eddie wasn’t doing much better. He quickly lost himself in the feeling of your body writhing under his, squeezing his dick every time moved. He brushed against a spot inside you that made you see stars. Your muscles clenched as his cock brushed it over and over again. Pain and pleasure shot through you, sparking through your veins and making you dig your nails into his back. He barely felt it.

Eddie took your hips into his hands, his grip bruising, his claws digging in. You could feel your blood pooling beneath his claws, staining his nails red. His lips were against your chest again, his teeth biting and scratching your skin. You barely noticed. You were too focused on him, on his cock forcing its way deeper and deeper inside, finding places that only he could reach.

“Still with me, sweetheart?” His voice was raspy, rough around the edges as he tried to catch breath that he didn’t technically need.

“Still with you,” your voice was just as breathless as his, “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. The sound of his hips slamming into yours cut through the silence of the night. Your fingers moved over Eddie’s back, scratching white lines into his skin. Your hands danced over the bones and flesh of his wings, darting over every sensitive spot. You knew his body well, and in seconds he was melting into you. Maybe it was a dirty move- you pulling out all of the stops on him- but you were sure he didn’t mind if his moans were anything to go by. His cock twitched inside your walls, and you moaned at the sensation. You were weak and wanting, and he was much the same.

“That’s it, baby,” he purred, “That’s my girl. So fucking good for me, so tight.”

His words slurred together, morphing into a low growl as he fucked into you. The smell of sex filled the barn, overtaking the stench of blood and decay. The barn itself seemed to fade further and further from view with every stroke, leaving only Eddie behind. For the moment, it was just the two of you. There were no threats to your life, no disgusted old ladies in grocery stores, and no jocks that wanted you dead. It was just you and the boy you loved.

One of his hands left your hip, moving back downwards to press his fingers against your clit. You could feel him trying to set a pace while also trying to keep his claws from scratching your delicate skin. As his fingers traced those familiar tight circles, you spiralled under him, walls clenching down around him as you drowned in the feeling of his skin on yours.

You could faintly hear him whispering filthy things in your ear- descriptions of all the depraved things he would do to you spoken over the deafening roar of your beating heart and the sound of skin on skin. Between words, his lips pressed kisses to every part of you that he could reach. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you neared overstimulation. Eddie kissed them away.

Mindlessly, one of your hands slipped away from his wings and over his side. Your fingers brushed something wet, a gouge in Eddie’s skin. The bullet wound. Immediately he flinched, clenching his jaw tightly to keep from crying out. You pulled back with near-inhuman speed, but the damage had been done. In your panic, you didn’t notice Eddie’s pained gasp turning into a laugh. You didn’t feel his cock pulsing inside you. As apologies spilled from your mouth, he took your now-bloodied hand in his free one.

“Damn,” he spoke over you, his voice rough and low, “I guess I deserved that, huh?”

You stared up at him, stunned into silence. Your face burned under his gaze. Even if you knew how to respond to that, you didn’t get the chance. Eddie brought your fingers to and past his lips, stealing your breath from your lungs in the process. His tongue moved around your fingers with a certain grace as he licked the cranberry colour of his blood off of your skin. The sight of it- of his lips around your fingers, drawing you in- was enough to take you to the edge. A little added pressure on your clit was enough to send you over, into a white-hot abyss.

You cried out as your walls clenched down around him. Tears stained your cheeks as your orgasm overtook you. Eddie pulled back, groaning slightly. Transparent strings connected his lips to your now damp fingers. A devilish grin overtook his features, “You liked that, huh? You came hard for me, sweet thing.”

You let out an embarrassingly loud whine in agreement, your body shaking as it came down from its high. Eddie let out a groan that matched your volume as he moved his hips against yours at a harsh and unforgiving pace.

He panted, “I’m- I’m gonna need you to use your words, baby. Need you to- fuck- need you to tell me. You can do that for me, right?”

You let out another whimper before you let out a broken confession, “I- I liked that,” he leaned in to kiss you, but you cut him off again, “But you didn’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to be hurt- unless y’know, it’s kinky.”

Eddie froze for a second. Your words had caught him off guard. As he stilled inside you, his smile changed. Everything about him became less devilish and more genuine. He broke eye contact. You could just see a pink flush spread over the pale skin of his neck and cheeks as he buried his face in your shoulder. When he spoke again, his words were muffled by your flesh against his mouth.

“You’re too good to me.”

His thrusts picked back up again, the same as they were before. He slowly placed your hand back where he found it, “Far too good.”

A sharp sting spread through your body as his teeth pierced your flesh. A fresh round of tears pooled in your eyes at the new ache. Blood dripped down your shoulder and over your chest, painting red lines down your tits. Ruby-red droplets jumped slightly with each snap of his hips. You felt him twitch at the sight of it. His grip tightened, and he made a sound somewhere between a growl and a purr.

“You’re- fuck,” his voice edged on wicked, desperation seeping in as he reached up to wipe your tears away, “You’re mine. I’m gonna make sure everyone knows who you belong to. Gonna make sure they know- make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

“Please, Eds. I want you- I want you to claim me. Want you to show them that I’m just your slut-”

Eddie felt a twinge in his chest, guilt taking arousal’s usual place. Degradation was usually fun to some degree, but he knew what people in this town called you. He knew what they thought you were and he knew the danger it put you in; and with the events that had led you here, his fear was raw. Worry burned through his head, turning brain cells into exposed wires. His lips quickly pressed his lips to yours bringing your pleas to a brief halt. When he pulled away, he whispered, “You know you’re more than that, right?”

“I know,” you leaned up to kiss him, recognizing the emotion in his eyes, “A thing can be two things. I’m a person, and I’m yours, body and soul. Just yours.”

He shut his eyes, chasing down your lips and kissing you breathless. It was sweet, not gentle, but kind- and you wanted to change that. You wrapped your teeth over his lower lip and bit down. You didn’t draw blood. You weren’t sure that you could, but you sure as hell tried. Eddie growled, but before he could say anything, you were whispering into him again.

“You’re mine, too. Remember that.”

The smile that crossed his face was blinding. Desire consumed him again as his hips moved against yours. His thrusts came faster, deeper, and impossibly harder. His eyes clouded over with lust, and you were pretty sure that if you had a mirror, you would see the same thing reflected in your own face. The want. The need. Your body melted beneath Eddie’s as he fucked into you the way he said he would- like a fucking animal.

Your body craved his- you wanted him to keep his word, to take you, claim you, protect you. You wondered, briefly, what it said about you- that you wanted your partner to commit acts of violence in your name. You brushed those thoughts away as a familiar tension began to build in your core.

As your edge grew nearer, Eddie could feel his monstrous instincts overtake him. He knew that his grip on your body was just a bit too firm, that he was leaving dark bruises and deep bite marks all over you. If he wasn’t careful, he would hurt you, but careful seemed to be the last thing you wanted. You kept begging him for more, arching your body into his, digging your nails into him. Soft, depraved pleas escaped your lips, morphing into cries as you came undone beneath him.

Eddie wasn’t sure what happened next. He blinked, eyes falling shut, and when he opened them, he was using your body with a level of violence he had always tried to keep you from.

A broken scream ripped its way out of your throat as the head of Eddie’s cock rammed against your cervix with bruising force. A blinding agony spread through you, crawling through your nerves and making you gasp for air. You could barely feel Eddie’s claws digging into your sides, barely feel it as he thrust back into you. Your thighs slammed shut around his hips. A whimper escaped your lips as your nails scratched down his back, desperately searching for purchase.

Eddie paused for a split second, looking down at you with wide, panicked eyes. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He hated himself for it. You took a deep breath as he kept moving, as he kept thrusting deep within your walls. You tried to relax, to let the pain fade. You failed. You felt the head of his cock hit your cervix a second time, and you bit down on your lip, drawing blood. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held back a scream- you couldn’t hold back your pleas for mercy.

“Eddie-” your voice broke, “Eddie, stop. Please, please, stop- I can’t-”

All pleasure had left your voice, leaving only pain and fear behind. Again, he didn’t stop. He wanted to stop- he desperately wanted to stop. He needed to stop, and he knew that. He was hurting you, and that killed him, but some shameful part of his blood-drunk mind was excited by your pain. It wanted to keep going, even if he didn’t.

In a panic-fueled attempt to end your agony, your hands pressed against Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him back. It was enough to snap him out of it and make him stop- and it made him notice the blood dripping over your lip and down your chin.

The first word to pass his lips was, “No.”

There was a deep, disbelieving horror in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he had done to you. He reached for you, slowly and cautiously, giving you plenty of time to stop him. When you didn’t, he wiped the blood off your face with his thumb, cradling your jaw with the rest of his fingers.

“Shit- shit, shit, shit,” his other hand came up to hover near your face. Tears filled his eyes. If you didn’t see it, you would’ve heard it in his voice. Your boy sounded so broken, “I’m sorry, baby, fuck, I’m sorry. I wasn’t careful enough. I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“I know, baby. I know.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “You know.”

Eddie wrapped his hands around yours and pinned your arms to the concrete above your head. He kept your fingers intertwined. As much as he hated himself for it, he didn’t want to let go. A whimper escaped you, and you watched Eddie’s face as he shut his eyes and hissed. For a moment, you thought he was hurt.

“Eddie-”

“You know that the man you love is a monster. You know that every time I touch you, I risk hurting you. You know I could kill you, the same way I killed those men tonight. The same way they tried to kill you, I could just-”

His hands squeezed yours. He wouldn’t look you in the eye. He looked anywhere else, just not into your eyes.

“Eddie,” your voice was softer, reassuring.

“Sweetheart, when I fuck you, you are being violated by a monster. If I claim you, it means that you’re owned by a monster. If we-if I got you pregnant, if you had my kids… they’d be like me. A monster just like their dad.”

He shifted slightly, preparing to pull away from you as he began to sink into that familiar pit of self-loathing. Eddie had barely moved an inch when you latched onto him further, clinging to him, wrapping your legs around his hips to make him stay.

“You think this is a violation? Eddie, I asked for this. Do you not want-?”

“Oh god. Baby, I want this. I want you, more than I should, but I hurt you. I didn’t stop when you needed me to, and that- it terrifies me. This was a mistake, I never should’ve-”

“I don’t think this was a mistake. Any of it,” you sat up a bit, just enough to press your forehead against his, “You stopped. I’m okay. And, uh… I kind of liked what you were saying. But-”

“But?”

“You really think our kids would be monsters?” you asked, “With you as their father? No way. Menaces, maybe, but not monsters.”

He said nothing, but a small smile crossed his face. He didn’t pull any further away. He just stared at you with those sweet doe eyes of his, so warm, so enamoured with you, and still so full of guilt.

It wasn’t a surprise that his mind had gone to such a place- he had killed a bunch of people moments before, fucked you on top of their bodies, and now, he had hurt you. It was an accident, you both knew that, but the guilt would eat him alive if he let it. You weren’t willing to let that happen. You hadn’t let those dark thoughts get to him in the past, and you sure as shit weren’t going to start now.

“Eddie. Everything you did tonight, you did to save me. Everything you do is to protect the people you love and care about. Tonight, two years ago, and even further back. You love with everything you have. You- are so brave, and so deeply kind, even if you pretend not to be, and if that makes you a monster, then I hope our children are monsters, too. And I hope they have your eyes.”

He remained still for a moment. His expression betrayed both his shock at your statement and his want. In the next second, his lips were on yours. He let go of your wrists, bringing his hands back to your face.

“I love you,” he whispered into the kiss, “I love you, I love you.”

You leaned up and into him, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “I love you too. So much. And I want you to remember, I also killed a man tonight. If you’re a monster, then…”

He let out a quiet laugh, lips moving down your neck, feathering kisses over your skin all the way to your collarbone, “We’re monsters together, then.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, “Exactly,” you purred. You paused for a second, becoming violently aware of the weight of his cock inside of you. You taped your fingers against his spine before you thrust your hips down against his, “You can, uh… you can start again now. I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

You leaned closer, whispering against his lips, “I am.”

He pressed his lips to yours, tongue slipping between your lips as he began to thrust into you again. His pace was quick, but not painful, and not quite so unforgiving. Your fingers reached up to wrap around the messy strands of his hair, tugging gently. He moaned into the kiss, sounding hungry and desperate once again.

As you drew nearer to your edge, your thoughts began to race. His words spilled through your mind, drowning your psyche with every sentiment he’d put forward. He loves you deeply. He’s terrified of hurting you. He’s desperate to keep you safe. You mean something to him. He’s thought about having kids with you, and you wanted him to think about that- fuck.

Your walls tightened around him. His cock twitched inside of you as he neared his own edge.

You whimpered out Eddie’s name, tugging on his hair until he pulled away from you. His brows furrowed in concern as he took in the sight of you, but you didn’t look like you were in pain. Your eyes were wide, filled with lust, and your chest heaved with every breath you took. You were covered in blood and sweat, and you were the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen. He felt your hands move to his face, and his gaze focused on your lips as you spoke.

“Eddie,” your voice was soft, “I need you to cum inside me.”

You watched as his eyes widened, as his lips parted in shock and a faint blush covered his cheeks. You were kind of proud that even in a moment this intimate, you could still get him to flush like that.

“You- you want me to-?”

You nodded, cutting him off and pulling him closer, “I want you to fill me up. Breed me, please.”

He shivered, a current of electricity running through him at your words. His body and his instincts screamed at him to do exactly as you’d said.

“You,” he whispered, “You’re perfect.”

His mouth slipped downwards, lips pressing against the space between your throat and your shoulder. His teeth sunk into your shoulder. Pain spread through your skin, white-hot as your blood dripped over your chest. Your muscles spasmed around him as the coil snapped. Your grip tightened on his hair. You could faintly hear him cry out in your own haze. His claws dug into you as he fell over that all-consuming edge.

Eddie bit down harder on your throat as he came, drinking just enough from you to make you see stars. His cock throbbed against your walls as his seed spread inside you, thick, and hot, and perfect. You clung to him, your breath stuttering as your muscles clenched, milking him for more.

As he finished, the monstrous need to fuck and breed you faded away to nothing. He was left with the more human parts of him after that- the parts of him that knew what aftercare was and that you would need it, the parts of him that knew he had to get you somewhere safe, somewhere away from the bodies of your attackers. Your body was limp beneath Eddie’s. Your eyes were closed, and your lips slightly parted. You were fucked out, completely cock drunk, and utterly perfect.

Eddie brushed your hair off your face. You could hear him repeating your name softly as you came back to earth. When you opened your eyes, he was hovering above you, looking at you with more affection than you could put into words.

“Hi,” he said, voice low and slightly shaky.

“Hi,” you let one of your hands move up to his face, brushing your fingers over his cheek.

“You okay, pretty girl?”

“‘M more than okay.”

He smiled, taking your hand from his cheek and pressing his lips to it, “Thank god, I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t.”

“You’d probably lose your mind.”

“Oh, I’d definitely lose my mind.”

You finally caught your breath as he kissed each of your knuckles and your wrist before he brushed his lips down your arm and to your shoulder. He let his cheek rest against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as it finally slowed down to something resembling normal.

Once it had, he lifted his head back up to look you in the eye, “We should probably get out of here, though. Get you home.”

“God, I would like that so much.”

He pulled himself up until he was kneeling, fixing his pants and passing his shirt to you. You pulled it over your head, watching as he got to his feet. He held out his hands to you and you took them, letting him help you to stand. You shook slightly, weak in the knees from both the attack and from everything Eddie had done to you. You buried your face in his chest as his cum dripped down from your abused cunt onto your thigh.

“Ah,” you hissed, “I have no pants.”

Eddie left a hand on your arm, supporting you as he stooped down to collect your torn clothes, “I guess there’s no saving these?”

You shook your head, smiling slightly as he winced.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it baby,” you leaned up and kissed his cheek, “It was more than worth it.”

His grin showed you his teeth. He picked up his jacket off the ground and wrapped it around your shoulders. You still had no pants, but it would be enough for now. You pressed a kiss to his bare collarbone as thanks. He tilted your chin up with two fingers and kissed you properly.

“Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s go home.”

You pulled away from him for a second, looking around at the abandoned barn. It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie. Blood covered the floor and stained the walls. Seven bodies laid out on the concrete, mutilated in various ways. You felt Eddie’s fingers on your jaw, gently bringing your gaze back to him.

His eyes were wide- something in them was almost scared. He didn’t want you to fear him- to hate him. He didn’t want you to think that he was a monster, but the bodies in the room only led to one conclusion- and you didn’t mind it. Monster or otherwise, Eddie was yours.

“Yeah,” you brushed your lips against his, “Let’s go home.”

A grin crossed his face, and the fear faded from his eyes as he bent down and scooped you up, pulling you into his arms. Maybe two years ago, when he was still human, he wouldn’t have been able to carry you home, but his vampiric strength was at present, a gift.

You let your head rest against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as he stepped through the blood, out of the barn, and into the night.

You fell asleep on the way home. You shut your eyes outside the barn, with the moon shining above you like a pearl in an inky black ocean, and opened them in the safety of the home you shared with Eddie- Hopper’s old cabin.

It had been in a bit of a state when Hopper had given it to you, but it was more than worth the hours you’d spent fixing it. It was a safe place for Eddie to stay- secret, isolated. It was the only place you could stay without the fear of capture and torture hanging over your heads.

At least, it had been. But that fear had come too close, breaking down your door and ripping its way into your life. You had been saved this time, but the experience followed you home. You weren’t sure what would come next.

You turned your focus away from the nebulous future and towards the present. Beneath you, your couch was soft. The living room was warmly lit by a lamp on the end side table next to you. You couldn’t see Eddie, but you could hear the sound of the tap running in the bathroom. From your spot, you could see grocery bags neatly folded on your kitchen table. With them sat a bottle of cranberry juice. You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry at the sight of it.

You sat up and immediately, you had regrets. Every inch of your body ached. Your face stung from the blows you’d taken, and the space between your legs burned and throbbed. The bite marks that marred your skin stung, and you somehow managed to hit every bruise you had in the small act of sitting up.

Despite that pain, you forced yourself to try and stand. You failed miserably. Your knees buckled beneath you, and before you could do anything to maintain your balance, you were back on the couch. The door to the bathroom swung open, and Eddie burst out with a wet cloth in hand.

“Shit! You’re up, hi!”

You couldn’t help but smile at him as he sped towards the couch. He was still shirtless, wearing the same pants he’d worn while saving you. His missing shirt still covered your body and your legs were still bare. His jacket was thrown over the back of the couch beside you.

“Hi,” you reached out for him as he got to the couch. He took your hand in his, kissing it before he placed another kiss on your lips.

“Hey, hi,” he pulled back from you, giving your hand a squeeze, “Sorry, pretty thing, I was just- I was trying to get you cleaned up.”

“Oh! Well,” you reached for the hem of your shirt, “That should be a little easier now that I’m up, right?”

He flushed as you pulled your shirt over your head. It didn’t seem to matter that his cock had been inside you maybe an hour earlier, he still went red at the sight of your boobs. You smirked at him, reaching out and running a hand through his hair.

“You are far too cute, Eddie Munson.”

“And you,” he pushed you back onto the couch, throwing himself down next to you and pulling your legs over his lap, “Are far too beautiful, sweetheart.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“So, do you uh- are you okay with this?” he raised the wet washcloth in his hand, “Or do you wanna shower, or?”

“Well, I would get up, but when I tried I fell, so,” you grimaced.

“I could help you,” he gave your leg a squeeze, “Could hold you, up if you want.”

You sat up, pressing kisses to his jaw, “I would like that.”

With a smile, he wrapped your arms around his neck and picked you back up. The trip to the bathroom was a short one. It took even less time for Eddie to remove his clothes and get both of you into the shower.

You kept your arms around him, leaning into his chest as warm water flowed over your back. You could feel your muscles begin to relax, knots unravelling the longer you stood there. Slowly, he started to move. His touch was heartbreakingly gentle as he cleaned every bite mark and every bruise.

In turn, you washed the sweat and blood that came with the fight off of him. Your fingers grazed his side, and you were pleased to find that the gunshot wound he’d taken had almost healed completely. Your hand remained there for a second, your touch feather-light and shaking slightly. You didn’t want to hurt him.

“Hey,” you whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He laughed a little, though the sound was void of joy, “Yeah? I’m glad that you’re alive.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to your shoulder before asking you to hang onto him. Your hands clutched onto him as he knelt before you, washing off your thighs. You took a deep breath as his hands neared your cunt. He looked up at you with wide eyes, a question held within them.

He quickly put it into words, “You down for round two?”

You grinned as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “Yes, please.”

His mouth was on you in an instant. He hooked your knees over his shoulders, pressing you up against the shower wall, keeping you steady with his hands. You tilted your head back at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your arousal. You found yourself biting down on your bottom lip as his lips wrapped around your clit. Your hands moved over your chest, pinching lightly at your nipples. In minutes, you were coming undone against him. Both of you were breathless as he pulled himself away from you.

When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips. You wondered if he could taste himself in you. He cradled your face in his hands

“How’re you feeling?”

“Stupid good,” you murmured, brushing strands of Eddie’s dripping hair out of his eyes.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as he kissed you a thousand more times. You let out a content hum, smiling into him as you lost yourself in him.

As the two of you climbed out of the shower, you caught sight of your body in the mirror. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the reflection of your bruised and battered body. Bitemarks littered your skin. Splotches of red and purple covered your skin.

You felt heat build within you at the sight of everything Eddie had done- and you felt your stomach twist at the sight of the things he hadn’t. The marks he hadn’t left would leave scars on your mind. You hoped they wouldn’t stain your body longer than they had to.

Eddie noticed your gaze, your eyes riveted to the mirror. He stood from where he’d been drying off your legs and moved to stand behind you. He took your arms in his hands, running them down until your fingers intertwined with his over your stomach. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, just under the bloodied spot where Kurt’s gun had struck you so much earlier.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, gently rocking you from side to side.

“Hey, don’t apologize. You aren’t the one who kidnapped me at gunpoint and threatened to break my bones by way of gun,” you shook your head at the ridiculous nature of your captors’ plans, but Eddie had a different reaction.

He buried his face in your shoulder, letting out a whine, “Jesus Christ.”

His hands started to shake against your skin. His breath sped up as his arms tightened around you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That never should’ve happened, they never should’ve gotten to you.”

“Hey,” you broke eye contact with your reflection in the mirror and turned around in Eddie’s hold, “There was nothing you could have done. If you had been with me, they would have tried to hurt you. Maybe they would’ve succeeded. And we needed groceries, so-”

“Then I should’ve sent Steve with you. Or Nancy, just someone-”

“I had Max. She’s arguably scarier than Steve and- oh shit, Max,” you pushed away from Eddie, stumbling as you took a step back, “Max, is she okay!? Did someone get her?”

Eddie kept your forearms in his hands, helping to keep you steady, “Deep breaths, sweetheart, deep breaths. Max is alright. As soon as she called me I had Steve go and get her, ironically enough.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you let out a tired breath as you collapsed against Eddie’s chest, “I guess we have them to thank for the grocery bags on the table?”

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “That we do.”

“God, I’m gonna have to call them. To say thank you. And sorry, my God,” you rubbed at your eyes with one hand, “I can’t believe I put Max through that, holy shit.”

“Hey, hey, you didn’t put Max through anything. You got her out of there. That was the best thing you could do, you kept her safe. Besides,” he moved back to look you in the eye, “Red’s a tough kid. She’s dealt with worse than this.”

“I know,” your voice was half a groan, “I still feel bad, though.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie gently grabbed a hold of you, turning you around to face yourself in the mirror. His hands slipped back into yours, and he brought them back to the expanse of your stomach, “You’ve had, what some would call, a long day, sweetheart.”

You leaned into him, letting out a soft whine when he pressed his lips to your shoulder. You squeezed his hands, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Eddie squeezed back, “Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

“Fuck. Yes, please.”

He picked you up again, pulling you into his arms and letting your head rest against his chest. You felt a bit ridiculous having him carry you around your small home, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. Your legs were tired, too weak to carry you. Fortunately, Eddie was more than strong enough.

He laid you on the bed gently, planting a kiss over your new bitemarks before he crawled into bed with you. He started at your side, but within minutes, he was on top of you, his head resting between your breasts. He took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers before kissing them gently.

The two of you lay in silence for a few moments. You ran a hand through his still-damp hair, listening to the sound of your breathing and his. For perhaps the first time today, you were both breathing evenly, completely calm.

On top of you, Eddie was listening to the sound of your heartbeat, sure and steady beneath him. He had spent so much of the day afraid that he would never hear that sound again. He had been terrified that he was going to lose you- that the town that had taken so much from him would take you, too.

But it hadn’t. It had tried, the jocks had tried, but he had stopped them. You were safe now. Safe, and protected, and Eddie seriously didn’t plan on letting you out of his sight for a few days.

“Hey,” you whispered, “How did you- how did you know where I was? Max saw me get kidnapped, but she didn’t know where they took me after.”

His fingers brushed over your temple, “I could smell your blood. Almost killed me when I noticed it. The stronger it got… the more I wanted to end them.”

You leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his.

“I wouldn’t take back what I did,” he continued, “I don’t regret it. I could never regret it. But I’m- I’m afraid that all I am is a weapon. That all I’ll ever be is a weapon. The things Vecna made me do…” he faded off into silence, pulling away and rubbing his hands over his eyes.

You sat up with him, reaching out to trace his strong, scarred arms. You could do nothing but watch as a war raged inside the man you loved. Guilt slipped beneath your skin, thrumming beneath muscle and bone. Eddie had protected you- he killed for you without remorse, and you were excited by that violence. You wondered again what that said about you.

Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead to Eddie’s. He relaxed against you, calmed by your touch.

“Hey, you know you’re more than that, right?” You echoed his words from earlier, “You’re not a weapon, you’re not his puppet, you’re-”

“I’m your man,” he said, a small grin crossing his face, “Your protector. Your slut.”

You giggled, shocked and pleased, and Eddie looked so proud to be the cause of the smile on your face. When his laughter subsided, you crawled into his hold, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your waist. You sat there for a moment, taking in his lack of a heartbeat as he listened to the steady rhythm of yours.

“You know this goes both ways, right?” You whispered, running your fingers over the spot where his wings met his back, “You protect me, I protect you? And we protect… whatever comes along. I might not have the claws or the fangs, but I’ve been told I can be a bit of a bitch when I want to be, so there’s that.”

Eddie pulled you closer to him, pinning your chest to his and holding you there as he laid back on the mattress. One of his hands brushed through your hair while the other traced intricate patterns over your back. You shut your eyes and let yourself bury your face in the space between his neck and his shoulder.

“I know,” he tilted his face to press a kiss to your head, “I couldn’t have asked for a better bodyguard.”

You smiled against his throat, “Neither could I.”

You hummed contentedly as he pulled a blanket over your bodies. The mindless motions of his calloused hands on your back pulled the tension from your muscles, making you relax. Your eyelids grew heavy as you breathed him in- the faint scents of blood and cigarette smoke overtaken by the smell of your body wash. You were so calm, unafraid, and bizarrely happy for a woman who had spent most of her day trying not to die at the hands of her kidnappers.

Maybe having sex on the corpses of your enemies was just a natural mood booster. Maybe it was the man you were having sex with.

“You make me feel safe,” you murmured, words slurred with sleep, “Always have.”

“Good,” his voice was quiet, but he sounded like he was wide awake. You focused on the feeling of his hand running through your hair, of his skin, ice cold beneath your lips.

“Keep doing it?”

“I always will, sweetheart. I won’t let anything hurt you. I won’t lose you.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, and you smiled against his neck, “Good. Protect me.”

Without waiting for a response, you pulled his skin between your teeth and bit down; hard enough to bruise, but not hard enough to draw the sweet cranberry-coloured wine that ran through his veins. His soft moan was music to your ears. With your lips on his throat, and his hands in your hair, you fell into a dreamless sleep. Eddie stayed awake through the night, keeping watch over you until the sun began to rise.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader

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corvid-canidae-art · 6 months ago

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here are some kintype reaction images I made! First one is mine and the rest are traced over.

First one is for when you just gotta go GRERHRGRRRG!!! RRR!!! Rage kill stabbing maiming pouncing on u mauling tearing w my claws stabbing stabbing blood violence!!! Imagine the stick figure is a transphobic politician and that’s basically the mood. It’s for when mauling and biting in a werewolf feral animal way isn’t enough for me and I just gotta pounce and stab w my killing claw/raptor talon deinonychus style. The rest are for my angel kintype and last one is my vampire kintype where I get just absolutely covered in blood. Drenched little guy.

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neptuneunworthy · 3 months ago

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Devour

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Durge

Synopsis: It is so early in your adventures, you've yet to even infiltrate the goblin camp and save The Grove; there are so many things you don't know about your companions...and so many things they don't know about you. At least you don't go around and bite people awake however, like certain bloodthirsty rogues.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Injury

Rating: Teen and up audiences

Stars always shine brightest when away from the hustle and bustle of the large cities like Baldur’s Gate or Neverwinter. The sky is not scarily illuminated by a gross cacophony of embers aching for more. It is when they shine so bright, when they twinkle just perfectly, that hope is born.

You were born without Hope.

You were created without Hope.

This is not an odd thought, though as quickly as you register it not to be odd you also register you are unaware of how you know this fact about yourself. How can you be so sure? Because, if you were honest, you cannot for the life of you recall anything.

His smile is small and gentle as the boy crouches beside you with a ladybug on his finger, a leather-bound journal loosely folded in his lap. He’s small, like you, and just a kid, also like you. Though he could not be more different than you.

“What’s your name?” Your voice is squeaky, yet cracks from dehydration clawing its way up your throat.

The boy looks at you with a grin and worried eyes. Very few have looked at you before like that. Then again, you’re only eight years old.

“I’m-“

“Tav!”

Your hands tightened around the thin linen, wringing it out a last time as your name was shouted by a certain wizard. Of course this likely meant supper was ready, hells even all the way out here by the lake you could smell the sweet aroma of spiced and juiced meat; the burning wood mixing with the scent in a way that made you truly realize you had been starving

You tossed the tunic over a rock with the other clothing and armour to dry and dust the mixture of sand and dirt from your legs, before turning on your heel and going to join the others. Their voices had already begun to mix with each other in chatter around the fire, Gale the loudest of them as he explained in detail what part of Faerun he would be feeding everyone tonight.

Of course, only Wyll and Karlach seemed interested. Maybe that wasn’t wholly true. Lae’zel was interested, after all she was a woman of respect and even admitted Gale’s cooking to be “suitable.” However, she still will voice her very loud complaints against Faerun and it’s cooking even so.

Gale didn’t seem to mind, though in your humble opinion you think that’s just because he’s a mixture of too kind, but also Lae’zel even finding his cooking “suitable” should be considered a victory.

You took your seat next to Shadowheart, admittedly she was the person you had found yourself the most comfortable around thus far. That was putting it lightly of course. But she was open and honest about her loss of memories, though she seemed to understand exactly why. Whereas you were not aware of anything. Save for certain…feelings when it comes to violence.

Still, there was a nice and quiet camaraderie formed over this; though you opted to not mention to her or anyone much about certain urges. Save for when you first inquired most everyone about them and they all gave you unsatisfactory answers.

You still had yet to confess it was you who killed Alfira. Though there was plenty of time to say as such, right? After all, the whole past day was spent fighting goblins at a windmill and spiders before you resume your trek toward the goblin camp once more. You were just busy and focused on other things that didn’t include confessing maiming an annoying bard only after just meeting her.

Ah.

Has it truly only been five days so far?

Everyone was such chums already.

Well, save for…

“It seems our white-haired friend has disappeared off to gods knows where again,” you mumbled. You weren’t an idiot, you had seen him stalk off the past few nights. “Where do you think he’s gone to?”

Shadowheart hummed in thought, biting down on a tender piece of pork before sipping from her goblet. “I pray somewhere won’t require me to heal him again. ”

She followed this by also side-eyeing yourself, which resulted in a quiet chuckle from you. It would be correct that both the pale elf and yourself had already made a pattern of needing frequent healing from her after battles.

“I mean it,” Shadowheart continued, though there was an ounce of teasing in her tone, “you would think for someone as sneaky as him he would be able to dodge out of harm's way. I suppose I should be glad he doesn’t beg me to heal him like you do--”

“-I do not beg-”

“-and instead he feigns ignorance to his wounds. Acting all annoyed and like a cornered cat when I manage to finally cast a spell on him. You can be thankful but him? You would think he would at least try to be cooperative since he is on a team…”

Her words now had taken a turn to actual complaining, which you listened to, and even admittedly agreed with.

You looked down at the food, picking at it with your fingers. “I think he shows thanks in uncanny ways. He’s disarmed more traps and swiped more gold for us than any of us ever could--not without being caught or killed at least.”

As you ate, finally, she seemed to ponder these words. Even if you agreed with her rant over the man, you had to be tactful and give him the benefit of the doubt as much as you have given her. Hells, as much as you have given everyone else. There is a part of you that calls you stupid for it, a tremor in your hand wishing to claw its way around your companions throats.

However, if you are to survive, if you are to hopefully eventually understand that supposed butler , then you need to ensure everyone gets along.

“You may be correct Tav,” she said after taking another sip of wine (which had been stolen from The Grove), “but it would be nice to feel recognized.”

You understood, though for several reasons that felt lost to you. So you simply agreed with a nod. Recognition could mean a lot of things to both of you, but that was the unspoken truth in the statement, wasn’t it?

People eventually returned to their tents, save for yourself and Gale, whom you had offered your help to when it came to cleanup. He appreciated the offer. Despite your reservations about Gale, mostly as he insulted your knowledge as a fellow wizard…and perhaps guilt (why do you feel guilt?) from almost ripping and eating his arm unbeknownst to him, you find his companionship affable.

It’s a type of acquaintanceship you can appreciate because you both can prattle on about the arcane to someone who actually understands it.

“A shame Astarion did not make it to dinner tonight,” Gale bemoaned as he changed the topic away from cantrips. “I set a portion aside from him and everything.”

You eye’d at the plate of sauteed pork, likely a bit cold by now.

“I can wait for him. Make sure he gets it.”

Gale looked at you with a soft smile. “Truly that would be wonderful. I must admit I have grown a bit worried about our friend. At first I thought it was maybe my food smelled as foul as the Owlbears nest, but I have not seen the roguish man eat anything thus far.”

“I promise you he will eat your very delish and not putrid smelling meal.”

That gained a chuckle from both him and yourself, but you additionally also said, “I will finish up here. You already have done more than enough in cooking the whole camp a delicious meal, go get some rest.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave a squeeze, “thank you, Tav.”

This is what Shadowheart means by wishing people (Astarion) said thank you, or that people (also Astarion) gave proper recognition where proper recognition is due.

You understand that the elf is probably just a very secretive person, which made sense considering his role in your camp after all. Honestly, you were pretty certain that he simply reads his books as he dines lavishly in the woods by himself with whatever tasty foods he swiped during the day. He is here for the reason everyone else is, and that’s to find out more about the pesky parasites burrowed in your brains.

Which perhaps is why Shadowheart is right; he needs to be more cooperative with the group. Though you can also understand the reasoning for keeping distance.

You cleaned off the plates from everyone else, leaving the one for Astarion untouched. Scratch, the dog that you had met crying over his dead owner, seemed more than happy to eat and lick any crumbs or residue left on the plates before you washed them by the lake. At least before he made his rounds to everyone’s tents; a ritual the dog performed each night to decide whose tent he shall sleep in.

When you settled back down by the now dwindling fire, you leaned back on the palm of your hands and looked up to the sky, taking it all in as you waited for the man of the hour to return. The stars did shine bright. They winked and kissed at you from afar. Whispering soft nothings in their twinkles and glimmers. A feeling swells in your chest as you look up at them. A profound loneliness overtaking your being. It didn’t feel right to be sitting here under the sky with the dim fire all alone.

Obviously you weren’t actually alone. You had the aforementioned tadpoles to make sure of that. But it was different. You could feel yourself actually begin to relax as you looked at the gleaming night sky, but at the same time your chest swelled for something your mind believes was once real. Yet you had no name to place it to. No person to place it toward.

You slumped down onto the bedroll, one spare you brought out so you hadn’t been waiting patiently on the hard dirt ground, and laid on your back. Your hands rested over your stomach, your chest rising and falling gently, as your eyes stayed trained up above.

It was horrible to miss something you didn’t know.

Against your better judgement, and your word to Gale, you felt the mistress of sleep had called as your eyelids had grown heavy, and they had begun to shut.

You had caught yourself, your eyes opening wide and body slightly jumping awake. Of course, you were thankful. Because for some odd reason your luck had kicked in, and you now lay face to face with Astarion loomed over you, his mouth slightly ajar.

It took a lot for you to not cast thunderwave and send him flying, but his own surprise drew him back instantly, an unusual look of horror painting his face like he was a child being caught.

“Shit.”

Even despite the fact he pulled back, your instincts send you standing up and engulfing your hand in flames as you glare at him.

His breath hitches and he steps back, shoulders and neck arching while he throws his hands up. His eyes are wide and feral. Shadowheart was right. He does act like a cat always trapped in a corner. This time though, he actually was.

“No—no it’s not what it looks like, I swear!” His voice is fill of an uncanny desperation for what you once thought to be a dashing rogue. “I wasn’t going to hurt you! I just needed…well, blood.”

You felt a pit in your stomach as you damned yourself for not recognizing this sooner. How stupid and oblivious had you been? Really? It should have been clear as day with his overly sharp canines and the scarring on his neck. You should have been able to smell it; the blood. Yet Astarion had’t smelled of anything rotten and iron. He smelled of—no that didn’t quite matter.

You gritted your teeth and spat, “I can’t believe I didn’t see it—we even found the boar * you * snacked on!”

“It’s not what you think!” His hands fall down slightly with an almost sad and hesitant tone in his voice, “I’m not some monster . I feed on animals…boars, dear, kobolds—whatever I can get. I’m…just too slow right now—too weak.”

His gaze fell on you, almost pleading. “If I could just have a little blood, I could think clearer. Fight better. Please.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“At best I was sure you’d say no. More likely, you’d ram a stake through my ribs. No…I needed you to trust me.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “And you can trust me.”

You frowned, quiet as you studied him. Your hands shook at your sides, your head thumping; urging you to—

“You tried to bite me. How can I trust you?”

“Because we don’t have a choice! Not if we’re going to save ourselves from these worms. I need you alive. You need me strong.”

He took a breath, sighing and stepping toward you slightly. “Please. Only a taste, I swear. I’ll be well, you’ll be fine, and everything can go back to normal.”

Normal. What a load of crap. Even if you understood what he meant by it…though he was right. Astarion had been one of the best in terms of fighting and safely manoeuvring the party through traps. He was a natural born killer, with instincts not unlike your own. You needed him, the whole party did; and now he needed you and the beautiful scarlet that pumped through your veins.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, then let your shoulders relax finally, willing The Urges deep down.

“Fine.” Your eyes meet his own, “but not a drop more than you need.”

He seemed stunned by this response, not that you blame him, you are sure if you had been in his shoes you would have fully expected—and embraced—a stake to the gushing heart.

“Really? I—of course.” A charming but warm smile fell on his lips, “not one drop more.” His eyes then fell down to the makeshift cot on the ground before falling back on you, “let’s make ourselves comfortable, shall we?”

You hesitate, just for a moment, before nodding and slowly sitting back down. You look back up at Astarion now, who lowered himself over you as you then slid your back against the cot—head comfortable on the pillow.

Astarion is quick to bite into your neck, your body immediately tenses; knees folding up and hands gripping onto the sides of his loose poet shirt. It’s searing, it hurts, just for a moment. Then it’s just surprise at the feeling of your own blood being sucked out of you that keeps you held tightly onto him.

There is something familiar about someone so dangerous being so close, hands on either side of your head. Was pain and blood involved as well?

Your brain fogs at the thought, and you only realize it’s from the pure dizziness you are being to feel. You are reeling now. Shaky breaths leaving your mouth as your hands press against his abdomen. He doesn’t move. So a moment later you try again. “Stop! It’s—it’s too much-“ your voice is small but pleading; something hates how pathetic you sound.

Thankfully, Astarion is quick to stop, and he pulls away, licking his blood stained lips and wiping gently at his chin with his thumb. “That—that was amazing. My mind is finally clear. I feel strong—I feel…happy!”

He peers at you, before quickly then helps you sit up, and you almost immediately lean your head into his shoulder. He tenses, but you pay no mind to this. Your breathing is shallow; mind still reeling from moments prior.

“I—“ you chuckle weakly, “—I look forward to seeing you fight.”

Astarion is quiet as he brings the plate of now-cold food close, careful to not move you except to force it close. A clear sign that you should eat. That he is suggesting as such.

“Shouldn’t take so long. So many people need killing.” He hums as you finally pull your head back, and slowly begin to devour the plate.

Your hands rip apart the meat, it’s cold by now, but you don’t mind it that much; though it’s tougher, the spices from Gale still make it a worthy meal. Astarion watches you, you can feel his gaze still on your neck, though truly all you can think about is the pork as your jaw clamps down on it. A part of you knows you have chomped down onto much more sturdy meat before; flesh, maybe?

Would that make you a hypocrite for your judgement of Astarion just moments ago?

You wipe your mouth on the back of your hand, grease and grime painting your skin while you finally catch your breath. Sated. Dizzy still, even a bit cold, but sated . Your eyes fall back on him, his gaze doesn’t reach your eyes; he’s hungry still. There is something tempting about offering more blood to him. Just offering more to him.

“Now,” he says in his usual sing-song voice, now rising to his feet, “if you’ll excuse me. You’re invigorating, but I need something more…filling.” He doesn’t offer you any help as he turns on the heel of his foot to leave. Though, he does hesitate, just for a moment before slightly turning his head toward you.

“This is a gift, you know, I won’t forget it.”

You bring your hand up to your neck, wobbling slightly when you stand; from both the wet feeling on your neck and his face just before he left, you understand he is a messy eater. Similar to yourself. As he disappears into the woods, you can’t help but wonder if he will devour the next creature with such greed. You dislike how you can relate.

Perhaps Shadowheart’s comment about Astarion acting like a cornered cat makes more sense now. If you were a vampire, or perhaps a monster in a similar fashion, you think that you would view the world as your enemy; trust no one, even clerics. Who are you kidding? Especially clerics.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x durge #astarion x tav #durgestarion #tavstarion #durge #the dark urge #baldurs gate iii #baldurs gate durge

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words-of-wolf · 9 months ago

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Content warning: this post contains mentions of wolves hunting other animals, and some thoughts on the subject. Nothing I'd consider graphic, but I know it can be sensitive for some folks so I thought I'd warn beforehand!

Hhh, it's a bit hard to know where to start with getting back into writing about my experiences.

It's not that I don't have anything to say - it's the opposite! There's so much I'd like to share. I've always loved talking about my experiences... maybe a bit self-indulgent, but I like to think it can help other folks too, and I've gotten many interesting conversations out of it in the past, so no regrets!

Can't imagine I'll be posting big things like this frequently, but I'll happily answer questions and chat too. ^u^

So... right now, what I've decided I'd like to write about is some of the, I guess kinda fundamental aspects of my identity as a wolf therian.

It's interesting in a way, because there are so many wolves around - there's a lot of people to compare experiences against! I guess, if you have a rare kintype, or a kintype that's varied enough that your individual variation of it is rare (like dragons) - it might be hard to imagine that a wolf would struggle to find other people they relate to. But then, well: there's me.

I don't think anyone's nonhuman experiences are wrong. I don't think anyones' are "superior" either; it's just about who you are as an individual, what feels right and comfortable to you. I just wanted to get that across! Cause what I'd like to talk about does involve some comparison between my feelings and the things I've seen expressed by other wolf therians, and I wouldn't want it to be read as me saying my way of being as any better than anyone elses' (it's not).

During my time in the kin and therian communities (which, I first encountered over ten years ago now, but my activity has been very on-and-off since I reached adulthood) I've met so, so many wolf therians. It's... hmm, complicated for me, in a way? Because I felt very isolated, especially when I was younger, and I felt like wolf therians were supposed to be "my people". But really, I could count on both hands how many wolves I've met that I really related to on any level.

And the reason for that is the same now as it's always been: for a lot of wolf therians, being a wolf seems to be a kind of violent, bloodthirsty identity. The "predator" feeling is strong; there's some affinity for the thrill of the kill, the violence of it all.

That's not a bad thing. It's not wrong! But my experience has been... very different from that.

My perception of wolfhood isn't really "red in tooth and claw" like that. It's more... simple. Not peaceful really - life as a wolf is full of trials and strife - but the violence never felt defining for me. In terms of personal importance, the feelings of wanting to hunt, to fight, to bite and maim... I'd be lying if I said they were entirely absent, but they were always tertiary to things that seemed far more present and central.

I think a big part of that is... well, for context, I believe my wolf identity is linked to a past life. Yeah, stereotypical, I know! But it's genuinely what I experience; I do remember that life, or at least aspects of it. And those memories influence a lot of my experiences in my current life as a wolf-person.

The thing that strikes me most when I compare my own perspective on wolfhood to the ideas often expressed by other wolf therians, is that to me, hunting wasn't violence. It couldn't be violence.

Why? Because I just plain didn't realise that the deer and other animals we killed were living things.

There was no... room to even consider that idea. I didn't know that the deer I drove to exhaustion felt pain and terror, same as I did. I just knew I was hungry and it was food.

It's a strange thing to consider, isn't it? People talk a lot about "what makes us human". I don't think there's any one thing that does. But if I were to point to one of the most jarring, and one of the most utterly sacred parts of being human to me, it would be the ability to connect emotionally with other species.

Humans are not unique for doing that. And maybe there's some animals a wolf could come to see as an individual, in the way I would've seen another wolf. But a deer would never be that. Which contrasts strangely with me, now, as a human: where I can love pigs, and care about their welfare and treatment, but still enjoy some bacon or a porkchop. That can conflict, sometimes, yeah - but from a wolf perspective, that would be incomprehensible. At least, from my experiences it would be.

And if you remove the idea of violence from hunting, suddenly a wolf's life doesn't seem very violent at all. The act of hunting and killing prey animals felt no more violent to me, than when I cook up a steak for myself now. To someone, that would be violent, but to me it's just a steak - y'know? I know the steak comes from a cow, but that fact brings me neither grief nor pleasure. It's just kinda how the world is and I'm mostly okay with that.

The act of hunting was, I'd say, something I enjoyed as a wolf. I loved the chase. It was fun. Taking down prey could be scary; even a deer is dangerous when cornered and desperate. But the thing with nature is that it makes what you have to do to survive feel desirable: so risking my life for a meal felt thrilling, in a way, and a full belly afterwards was satisfying, and comforting, and a relief from the usual gnaw of hunger.

Hunting's only a small part of being a wolf, though. Even setting aside all the attempted hunts that fall through before you even get into a full sprint.

A lot of wolf life focuses on territory. In some places, it's a very intense, almost war-like conflict; constant, bloody, often fatal. Not always, though. It depends a lot on the intensity of the ecosystem you live in: a place with lots of prey attracts lots of wolves, who then compete for access. If the prey's more spread out, the wolves are more spread out too... and an area of land feels less worth dying for when you've got so many others to search.

Me and my pack were one of the latter varieties. Territorial conflicts were rare, for us; I don't recall any specifically. We patrolled, we marked our space. Territorial disputes were something I was aware of, I think - if I saw a trespasser I certainly would've acted with aggression - but it just wasn't a common occurrence.

So my experience of being a wolf didn't feel like it was defined by violence much. It didn't feel bloody and raw. I could see myself in the image of a wolf that snarls, maybe, but moreso I see myself in the image of the wolf that sleeps, or - perhaps most of all - the wolf that wanders.

And that's what existence as a wolf was, and is for me! It's wandering. It is the neverending search. Even when you find what you need, the relief can't last long - you need to move on soon, you need to seek again soon, because it won't be long before your empty belly's gnawing at your insides again. It wasn't ever a life of violence, it was a life of travel, for the good and the bad of it: for the new sights and new smells and new opportunities; for the exhaustion, the uncertainty, the sore paws and aching muscles.

And the restlessness. The need to keep moving. Keep going. Keep searching, always searching.

But, of course, that's still not the centre piece of the puzzle. Because that could only ever, of course, be the pack.

This is something I'll probably dedicate time to writing about all on its own, because I have such deep feelings about "the pack" as a concept, and also about my pack, who I lived for in my last life.

But I will say that all of my deepest, most vivid, and most impactful memories... they're not of the hunt, they're not about territory or conflict or hunger. What I remember most richly is the love I felt for my pack. It's a feeling I can't quite find it in me to explain; sometimes I wonder if the reason I identify as loveless in this life, is simply because no love I've ever felt as a human could compare to what I felt as a wolf.

I think there's a kind of synergy between the simple mind of a wolf, and the feelings a wolf experiences: in the quiet of an animal's mind, emotions seem so much stronger, so much more vivid somehow. I feel that even now, when I have a mental shift, and the logic and reason falls away - all that's left is emotion and physical senses, and they paint a picture so, so bright.

And those past life memories that I hold dearest, they have a similar quality to them... to curl up with my family after a long day of travel. Or listen to their happy snores as we all sleep off a full belly. And playing with the pups... I was a very fun wolf-uncle. And those pups were my joy, light of my whole life! <3

So... yeah. That's what being a wolf is to me.

It's not the only way to be a wolf. It's not the "right" was vs anyone else's "wrong". This is just what wolfhood is to me personally. Maybe other wolves will see something of themselves in this, maybe not! Either way, I appreciate the time you took to read my rambling. It feels nice to carve out a place in my life again where I can really talk about this stuff. c:

#therianthropy #wolf therian #wolfkin #past life #spiritual therian #spiritual kin #tw animal death

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nellyofthevalley · 1 year ago

Text

bloodlust

astarion x fem!durge

rating: explicit content: dubcon, blood, knifeplay kinda sorta, spanking, fingering, piv, cunnilingus, porn without plot, some feelings, graphic violence in the form of threats summary: ‘You’ll let me know the next time you need to be tied up, won’t you?’ he said the last time she tried to murder him in his sleep, and she intends to see it through.

Astarion holds his arm over her head and she opens her mouth in anticipation. He’s watching her as intensely as she watched him, with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth parted. Blood drips slowly down his arm, beading at his elbow before dripping into her waiting mouth, around her lips, over her face.

read it on ao3 or below the cut:

She comes to Astarion’s room one night in a panic, ready with rope. The urges have become easier to sense coming on. Most could be sated by a brutal kill of those who deserved it, but she knows a punishment is coming. Kills are never enough for Father, it’s not about the kills. It’s the savagery, the unnecessary cutting, twisting and maiming.

It’s an art form.

She’d gone back for Isobel to sate her urges when they were most dire, a ritualistic offering to Bhaal, pleading for any relief. It sufficed, for a time. It was an honor to lead dozens to their deaths in the aftermath and an absolute delight to watch them be consumed by shadows, their souls ripped from this earth. For weeks, she remembered how they looked as the black possessed their bodies, and how their darkened blood stained the battlefield as far as eyes could see, torn between remorse and a sick fantasy.

‘You’ll let me know the next time you need to be tied up, won’t you?’ he said the last time she tried to murder him in his sleep, and she intends to see it through.

She enters his room in a hurry and lets the door shut behind her, finding Astarion in his typical spot; in the chair, reading.

“What’s troubling you, love?” Astarion asks as he looks up. A silly question, he realizes it as soon as he sees the rope in her hand—they’ve been through this once before already. “Ah, you’re here to kill me again, I presume? And here I thought we’d moved past that.”

“It’s punishment,” she says, standing before him and shoving the rope in his hands. “I’ve not served him adequately. Tie me.”

“Eager for this, aren’t you?” he teases, casting the rope aside. She huffs in response, annoyed by his light hearted demeanor. “I’m surprised. I imagined this must be a very unpleasant experience for you, to be restrained and rabid.”

“Don’t be stupid! Tie me, quickly, before I hurt you,” she begs, terrified of herself. She glances down at her hands, as if they may act on their own. She can picture it already, how they’d leap forward and claw into his lovely face, vigilant to spare his piercing red eyes. It’d be a shame to waste those, they’d make for a fine trophy.

“Do you think me so careless? I have all I need to survive you,” he says, pulling her on top of him and leaning back. “Unless you have a hidden blade to slit my throat with.”

No, but the bloodlust inside wishes she did. From the start, she thought he’d be the perfect pretty corpse—what a joy it would be to see the vampire’s essence spill and pool beneath her. A stake is a tired trope, and even a slit of the throat would be too clean for her tastes. She’d adorn him with cuts all over and make him watch her drink the life from him like he drank from her.

She pushes her lips to his and he readily accepts her greedy tongue. Her impatient hands seek cover beneath his shirt, crawling all over his smooth porcelain skin, daydreaming of splitting it. He’s foolish and reckless around her. She could bite, rend, and gorge on his screams, if the urge willed it.

Maybe he enjoys the dance with death, she thinks as she guides the shirt over his head, picturing how his chest would look with slashes all over it.

With a sharp motion, he pulls her back by the hair with one hand. With the other, he restrains her comparatively small hands by the wrists as if to prove he holds more control.

“Take me, when I’m no longer me. Show him what I think of this pathetic display of power,” she says with a fire in her eyes and Astarion feels another flourishing between her thighs. “He won’t own me.”

“You’ll never be his. You’re mine.”

The kindling in her ignites and she rocks her hips against him, smirking when a groan escapes him. Astarion keeps his grip on her hair tight but pulls her forward, nestling his face in the crook of her neck. His fangs brush against her skin and she shakes in anticipation, waiting for that familiar, satisfying pierce when he breaks her skin with his teeth; instead, he gives her small, cautious bites that make her heart pound with a fury.

Astarion releases her hair and trails his hands along her thighs, up her sides and lifts her nightshirt up to her shoulders. The chill of his touch clashes with the fire that spreads through her whole body—her cheeks aflame as his fingertips roll over her perked nipples.

“Astarion,” she says. He’s dismantled her resolve so easily, leaving her too weak to argue with him further on the importance of his own safety.

She finishes what he started and lifts her shirt, tossing it to the floor. Cold hands slide down over her ribs and then behind to support her back as he leans forward, pressing little kisses from her shoulder to her collarbone. Her fingers tangle in his white curls, lightly stroking while he continues his work downward, pushing her back further and further until he’s supporting almost all her weight and his lips place a kiss between her breasts.

Astarion rises from the chair, and her legs wrap around his waist as he carries her to the bed, sitting her on the edge and standing between her legs.

“Hands,” he orders; she offers them and he ties them behind her back with rope.

If Astarion cared to be safe, he’d tie her feet and gag her mouth. She’s a dangerous one, but he never feels truly scared of her and he carries enough confidence to toy with his food first. Though she may try to separate herself from the urge, they both know her violent tendencies aren’t solely Bhaal’s ‘punishment’. It’s still her inside—he saw how she fought it before, and she will fight it tonight, too.

Astarion falls to his knees and grabs her hips, pulling her to the edge of the bed. He’s hasty to remove her bottoms, pulling them down over her legs and feet before settling his head between her legs; he drapes her thighs over his shoulders and holds them in place with a tight grip.

“Astarion, I—”

“Quiet, love,” he says, pressing his lips to her inner thigh now—intense, needy kisses that make her jolt, and tomorrow, will bruise her skin blue. “Relax for me.”

She feels sharp tips brush against her, a forewarning; she flinches, but quickly settles down, waiting patiently for his bite.

She groans when he pierces her flesh, loud—her cry and her delectable, hot blood gushing into his mouth elicit a moan of his own and rouse him; her blood traveling straight to his cock. She squirms under him and involuntarily squeezes his head with her thighs, and it’s fucking delicious.

He pulls away, mindful to not drink too much; she’s sure to spill more blood this evening, by both their hands. Arousal glistens on her cunt and leaks onto the bed—her body’s calling him, and it takes all of his self-discipline to not fuck her so hard the urge possesses her right then.

“Astarion, please,” she whines again, pleading with him to touch her. The only thoughts her hazed mind can produce at this point are all pure, unadulterated filth.

“You’re making this so difficult,” he says, drowning her in more soft kisses, everywhere except where she’s craving his mouth most. “Have patience, my dear. I’m savoring my meal.”

Finally, he’s dragging his tongue up along her folds, convincing her he’ll grant her the relief she craves. He’s quick to start, lapping up every last drop of her sweet arousal, but it’s not long before he slows to an absolutely punishing pace that rewards him with a frustrated moan from her mouth and increasing pressure on his ears.

His tongue flicks across her clit, delicate and controlled, expertly drawing out more of her wetness. Her body sings for him with its writhing and whimpering, while her mind starts to wander away from her.

Every part of her hungers for him—her hands rebel against their ties, trying to break free and pull at his hair, push him deeper into her cunt and fuck his face; her drifting mind fantasizes of how she’d suffocate him, if she could. She could crush his head between her thighs, she thinks, picturing his pale face turning ghost white under her, the screams she’d delight in, the crack of his skull; only then would she come for him, desecrating his face and plucking out his eyes.

Blissfully unaware of her rising desire to kill him while she fucks him, Astarion thinks of how he could stay here forever, ruining her and relishing it, but he forces himself to part from her, not allowing her to get too close.

Astarion stands and admires his work: her face flushed red, the dark puddle where he had her. He climbs on top of the bed, grabbing her waist to push her further back and covers her body with his.

“You look positively depraved,” he says before pressing his mouth to hers, ravenous and fierce, the taste of her arousal left on his lips and shared with her. She nips at his bottom lip, then parts hers to welcome his tongue—an invitation, a demand; he holds her face as he obliges, devouring her, like he wants to taste her throat.

She’s left gasping for air by the time he lets her free. He wipes the mess of her mixed fluids from his face with the back of his hand and licks it off as she stares. It’s filthy, it’s primal, and it’s the last she can take before fully losing her mind to her violent whims. Out of breath and lightheaded, she passes out.

When she wakes, bare with her hands and legs tied, she’s furious—she thrashes, tries to kick, screeches obscenities at the pale elf standing before her. She’s not herself. Her vision is clouded and washed with red; her brain repeats grotesque thoughts of brutal murder and horrific fantasies of dining on her victims’ innards.

Not fantasies, she realizes—they’re memories of a better, brighter time, when she was free to kill and maim, and was rewarded for it.

“Darling, you’re awake,” he greets her in a sickeningly pleasant voice. “It’s not been long, but I missed you all the same.”

She imagines reaching her claws deep down his throat and shredding his vocal cords, sure that many would thank her.

She spots a dagger on the table beside the bed. Determined to take it for herself and stab her captor with it over and over until he’s a bloody pile of unrecognizable viscera, she lunges for it. It’s useless with her restraints. Her actions are brainless, reminiscent of a creature driven by pure bloodlust. To anyone else, it would be terrifying; to him, it’s almost humorous.

“Can’t you be nice?” Astarion asks her in a petulant tone, like a parent scolding their child.

He catches her from behind in the midst of her tantrum and presses his body to hers, pushing her forward and trapping her tight between himself and the headboard. He wraps one hand around her throat; a loose but disciplined grip that’s just enough to crane her head towards him.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, his lips and the warmth of his exhale brushing against her ear. Whether she wants to not in her current state, all the way from her ears to her feet and her face reddens.

He kisses along her ear and down her neck and it only infuriates her that much more; she tries to flail and escape him, but he’s prepared for her fight and the hand around her neck wins. His free hand reaches around her front, exploring every piece of her body he can get his hands on as he continues with his kisses on her shoulders and back.

“Ah, you’re feisty,” he says, laughing when she tries to lunge and bite him. “Good effort, but as you can see, I hold all the power here.”

He moves his hand lower, along her hips and thighs, fingertips lightly trailing further in. Even in this state, arousal pools in her cunt as he touches her and the heat practically radiates off her body, sharing warmth with her lover.

“Even like this, you crave me,” he taunts, fingers running over her folds, wet and sensitive for him already.

He slips a finger in her wet cunt, curling it forward, gently caressing her soft spot; she gasps and moans while he finger fucks her, and Astarion can feel the vibrations of her noises on his hand constricting her neck.

“You’ll look—ah—so much prettier… after I’ve turned you inside out,” she hisses, hitching on her words, struggling between the moans his hand forces from her and the pressure on her throat. “I’ll—I’ll crush your dead heart and… feast on it.”

“I wish you could behave yourself,” he says, giving her throat a quick squeeze, to remind which one of them is in control.“We could have so much more fun that way.”

Astarion pushes another finger inside her, finding pleasure in her increasingly incoherent snarls and ragged breathing. Every time he thrusts into her up to his knuckles, her body twists and quivers; her mouth’s desperate to hurl another threat, but he’s fucking her faster and lazily rubbing his thumb against her clit, reducing her to nothing—she can’t find the words anymore.

“You want me to fuck you so badly,” he purrs, curving the fingers inside her in a deliberate, slow motion. She throws her head back against his shoulder and tries to grind against his hand, feral and frantic, proving his claims.

A loud cry escapes her as Astarion withdraws, robbing her of release; a sound that goes directly to the erection straining against the fabric of his pants.

“I could end you right here, you know,” he goads, tightening his grip on her throat. “Crush your pretty neck like it’s nothing. Make you bleed out on this bed. How would you want it, if you had the choice?”

“I’ll gouge out your ruby eyes,” she chokes out. “Wear them as earrings.”

“Romantic. Not what I asked, though,” he says, shaking his head. “A shame.”

Astarion kisses her neck, along her jaw, her face—anything he can reach, loving her, even if she won’t love him back. He frees her from his grasp before he sheds the rest of his clothes, his cock painfully hard and tip dripping with pent-up anticipation.

“Ah,” he exhales as he presses against her, sliding along her sticky wet slit, covering himself in her wetness. “Gods, what have you gotten me into?”

His nails dig into her sides and threaten to draw blood as he enters her with an animalistic and uncontrollable groan. He’s rough with her, snapping her hips toward him with every thrust like he’s performing an exorcism by fucking the violence out of her. The combination of her wet, tight cunt embracing him with the pathetic, needy sounds falling from her mouth render him dizzy.

“I’ll—I’ll—” She tries and fails to speak, overwhelmed by how his cock feels like it could burst through her chest.

How he so quickly reduces her murderous urge to a pitiful, sweaty mess is a pleasure of its own, but fuck—he wants to kiss her, taste her, talk to her.

“You’ll what, my love?”

“I’ll paint the city red with your innards!” she cries, dangerously loud. Astarion covers her mouth with his hand—he would prefer their companions not get the wrong idea and interrupt. “They’ll all see your true beauty and bathe in it.”

“Your blood will paint my mouth red, and I will bathe in your beauty,” he says, a low tone against her ear.

He settles his face in the space between shoulder and neck and gives her harsh, bruising kisses that make her legs tremble and her breath catch before breaking her skin with his fangs and forcing a whimper from her lips. The movement of his hips pauses as he drinks her in, intoxicated by her essence. It sucks every last bit of his senses until all he can hear is her blood flowing onto his tongue; until he tastes, smells, sees, and feelssolely her life’s dark red.

Astarion pulls away from her, wiping away the thick red streaks smeared all over his face, and doesn’t waste a single second before burying himself to the hilt in her again, drunk in the coppery scent that lingers in the air. Her, too—it’s tantalizing, it makes her want to force out all the blood in her body and fucking drown him in it.

“I’ll hold your head by your eye sockets and fuck you until you bleed out,” she growls, and he can’t help but laugh; how comical, for her to lash out at him with her face shoved against the wall, scraping her cheeks with every thrust.

He fucks her until she can’t speak again—until her body is shaking, her voice whittled down to heavy breaths, and he’s close to finishing. She cries such a sad sounding moan when he pulls out, it’s almost sufficiently convincing to make him think she’s come around to the idea and misses him inside her.

“I’ll open your skin and wear you like a coat,” she seethes.

“Sure you will, darling. You’re so very scary with your hands and feet bound,” he says, brushing her off with a hand motion. “Be still, you’re being ridiculous.”

As soon as he backs off, her body falls onto the bed and throws itself around again trying to break free. It’s obvious it’s involuntary—every convulse hurls her against the wall and makes the rope rub her skin raw.

“CHOKE! DIE! YOU’LL BEG ME FOR MERCY!”

“I hoped to avoid this,” he says as he picks up another piece of rope, destined for her mouth. "But you won’t keep your damned mouth shut. And frankly, I’m getting tired of your little outbursts. It’s unbecoming.”

Astarion ties the last bit of rope around her mouth, gagging her. She does her best to spew more obscenities at him, but they come out as miserable, muffled noises that satisfy him in his work.

He pushes her over onto her back and lifts her tied legs up to his face to place soft pecks along her ankle and calf. Her body fights it, kicking her feet as if it tickles so much it’s worth killing over. He spreads her legs to fit his head between them and rest her thighs over his shoulders. The heels of her feet beating at his back are weak and sad, not fazing him at all. It’s cute, really.

“My sweet, sweet love with the dark heart,” he muses, stroking her hair. “What else would it take to get you to behave for me?”

She strikes when he pulls his hand back from her hair—her tied hands claw at him and she manages to swipe his arm just right with a pointy nail, splitting the skin. A decent injury; a cut between his elbow and wrist deep enough to bleed. And she cackles hysterically, even with her voice buried under rope.

“Gods damn it.” Astarion looks it over before lifting his arm and showing it off to her, like it’s a prize she’s won. “Look what you did.”

She loves it. She watches the red run down his arm attentively, hypnotized by it.

He holds her hands firm against her stomach and frees her of the gag. It’s a surprise that she’s too preoccupied by the sight to speak, and her body’s violent spasms have calmed. Perhaps he should wrap his arm, but the cut isn’t that bad, so why not have a bit of fun with it first?

She sloshes it on her tongue and truly tastes it before swallowing; she opens her mouth wider and pushes her head forward, trying to collect as much of it as she can.

Is this how he looked when Cazador made him beg for dead vermin?

“You’re sick,” he says, delightfully scandalized, but he can’t take his eyes off her and he doesn’t stop feeding it to her. “Vile. A true degenerate.”

His insults make no difference to her, she’s lost to the literal bloodlust.

She’s nauseatingly hot like this. The messy streaks of red around her mouth and dripping down the sides of her face, the way she drinks his blood how she tastes his cock, the fact that he can feel her getting wetter and wetter—it’s so fucking good. He can hardly hold back from tasting hers again, his body tense and mind tempted by the view and the aroma wafting in the air.

If only he hadn’t already drank from her twice.

“You’ve had more than enough fun, dear.” Astarion pulls aways as the bleeding slows to a trickle and fits the rope back into her mouth, knowing she’ll refuse to keep her quiet as soon as he’s done indulging her. “I can’t let you go unpunished. I’m sure you understand.”

He moves and turns her until she’s on her knees, face down, his palm pushing on her upper back to hold her there. She looks lovely, he thinks; her head shoved into the pillow, angry eyes staring back at him, sweat running down her face and unable to speak.

With his other hand, Astarion trails his fingertips down the dip in her back and over the curve of her ass. He extends his palm, and with a swift movement, strikes her. She jumps, but tolerates it well—and he can’t have that. Again he hits her, harder and less disciplined, and still she endures in silence, though her hateful glare talks on her behalf: she’s livid. He’s gotten under her skin.

“You’re resilient,” he notes, “but even you can be broken.”

He strikes her more—harsh and with purpose, drawing out dulled wails from her at last, determined to beat the fiend that possesses his love.

Astarion knows very well how it feels to lose your body. To be owned by another. It’s a memory that haunts him and resurfaces old anger—how dare this thing tread upon his lover’s will, rob her of her body and him of her affection?

His next strike lands harder, with an audible slap against supple flesh.

Her skin turns pink and tender as he continues, then red; she’s chewing at the rope in her mouth and her bound hands clench into fists, nails scratching at her own skin–desperate, but her efforts are all in vain. Astarion pauses for a short moment before landing one final, unrestrained smack on her ass that draws out a far louder, far more satisfying cry from her mouth.

A single tear runs from her eye to her nose and into the pillow.

She’s not unfamiliar with pain, far from it; she’d been taken apart and put back together many times. She has no memory of it, but they learned she tried to strangle Kressa with her own intestines, and showed no pain or weakness doing it. Why shed a tear now? Was it wept by his little love inside, gnawing at her brain for escape?

“Don’t cry, my love,” he says, almost mocking her. “I hate to see your pretty face weep.”

Astarion takes the dagger he’d left bedside and waves it in front of her. It may as well be a treat dangling from a stick for his rabid pet with the way her eyes light up and follow it.

“Fuck,” is all he can muster as he penetrates her, pushing in until there’s no room left, struggling to hold his composure.

He holds the blade to her neck, making shallow, trivial cuts as he thrusts into her and she thrashes against him, her will too strong to let a little blood stand in her way. She’d bled rivers over the years, and finds her own just as sweet as her enemies’.

“Watch yourself, love,” he warns. “You can’t soothe your need to kill if I’ve killed you first.”

He wields the blade well, careful to not let it cut too deep, but when her convulsions are too wild for him to keep up with, he’s forced to withdraw the dagger. He wouldn’t forgive himself if he permanently scarred her, even if she is trying to send him to his final death. But he wonders—how animalistic is the urge when it consumes her this way? How far would he have to go to bring her under control?

Would she allow herself to bleed out before she’d beckon to his will?

Astarion brushes his fingers across her neck, collecting the paltry amount of blood weeping from where she’d been cut and licks them clean. It’s delicious and sweet like her, but it’s not enough; it only leaves his taste buds dreaming of more and missing his kinder-hearted lover.

The frustration and anger spreads through his body like a parasite, crawling through his veins and bones until it’s all that’s left. He grips her hips for leverage, pulling her towards him with all he has for every thrust and burying himself in her so deeply, she whines under him. He doesn’t let up; he moves his hands further along her back and up to her shoulders, leaning over her and pulling her in.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Astarion’s angry, or furious, rather; he’s fuming that she’s not here with him.

And then—something changes. Her cries become quieter, her eyes stare back at him differently. It’s unsettling. All but exhausted from using her body like that, he wipes sweat collecting on his forehead and stops, watching her intently.

He pulls the gag from her mouth.

“Astarion,” she says, hardly a whisper as she finds her voice again. “Shit.”

He’s practically starstruck, frozen, like he can’t believe this. He didn’t expect it. He pulls out, silent, and she looks right at him. He sees her. He recognizes that face.

“Gods.” He turns her and picks her up, arms around her waist, and brings her into his lap. “I missed you.”

Astarion pushes his lips to hers, holding her face in his hands; he slips his tongue in her parted mouth, finding hers and tasting every piece of her he can until she’s forced to pull away and breathe. He runs one hand through her hair and lingers there, massaging circles into her scalp while she returns to her body, their foreheads pressed together and their eyes half-open.

“I missed you,” he says again, all he can think of, though these three little words pale in comparison to the relief he feels.

She smiles and holds her hands up for him. “Can you untie me?”

He nods and laughs as he cuts through the rope—so distracted by her returning to him, he didn’t think to free her. If she hadn’t already rubbed her skin raw on the restraints, he might’ve told her no.

With her limbs free, she supports herself on his shoulders and spreads her legs to straddle him properly, his cock nudging against her wet cunt.

“More, give me more,” he demands, drawing her closer for him to kiss along her collarbones and down between her breasts, teasing her nipples with the tip of his tongue. “I want all of you, until I can’t see straight.”

She adjusts and lowers herself onto his length, forcing a low groan out of him. He doesn’t avert his gaze from her for even a moment, eyes feasting on the faces she makes when she starts to ride him. Her body aches, sore from the bloodthirsty beast’s unforgiving temper, but every noise she coerces from his mouth encourages her; she fucks herself on him until her legs shake and she loses her stamina, showering him in apologetic kisses.

“Good girl,” Astarion praises her, kissing along her jawline, her neck, anywhere he can reach. “Beautiful, my love.”

He grips her waist by the sides and arches his hips up into her, moving her body for her. She can’t keep quiet, moans escaping her mouth every time he thrusts back up into her, her warm exhalations pooling against his skin. Astarion’s sure the sound travels past their walls now, but at least no one would dare interrupt.

“Astarion—”

“You’re going to come for me, pet?” he asks, daring her to. “Close your eyes.”

She obeys, giving up sight and focusing all her senses on him. He pauses and she’s tempted to look again, but before she can, she’s being lifted and pushed into the bed, onto her back. She feels Astarion position himself between her legs before entering her wet heat once more, his thrusts impatient and just as relentless as he was before.

Astarion presses two fingers to her mouth and she welcomes them, coating them in her spit; he lingers on her tongue for a moment, admiring how perfect she looks with her mouth open, her disheveled hair, her body splayed and swallowing his cock so eagerly. He rubs her clit with his wetted fingers, his motions frantic and messy as he gets closer and closer to climax.

He leans forward and kisses her, drinking in her every moan and cry as hungrily as he does her blood—like he’s parched, fucking dying of thirst and her ecstasy is the only thing that can quench it. And when she tears into his skin with her nails, her cunt contracting around him and his name leaves her mouth as she comes, it’s divine, sweeter than any heavenly nectar.

She wraps her legs around his back and tugs him towards her until it feels like they’re melted together and there’s no space left. Astarion shuts his eyes and succumbs to the pleasure drowning him, riding the high and spilling inside her; she holds his face as he shudders and curses, praising him with the thoughtful gestures of her hands and her nose grazing his.

He collapses on top of her after her body’s extracted all he can give, spent; exhausted after spending all night fucking the cruelty from her body.

She embraces him, fingertips gently tracing up and down his back, writing signs of her devotion. Her lips kiss his cheek and whisper words of adoration in his ear, so sweet it almost makes him sick. The darling little love he missed so much.

It’s like night and day.

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