#beastly hunter

[mishavoltaire]

...Or the hunter will face the hunt

anyway I think that's how Gehrman "lost" his leg

!!the background is a blurred screenshot!!

[fishermcn]

“Watch the waves my son, catch the glinting of the stars on their surface and see in them the same waters our Mother treads across the Cosmos.”

Stretched out before him on the table, the bits and baubles that make a Workshop hunter’s weapon the masterpiece of cutthroat craftsmanship they are have been broken down into more manageable piles of scrap. In the faint light by lantern cast he runs his hands over the choicest pieces, springs and gears plucked from their places to be refastened and tightened.

Too many of the trick weapons they’ve pried from dead hunter's hands were beyond the strength or skill of mere men to make good use of, built for those enhanced by the "good blood" flowing through their veins. They're better put to use for his tinkering or being smelted down for far more profitable ventures; ventures that were far less likely to draw the unwanted attention of hunters from either faction. That left such individuals as himself who were too proud or poor to imbibe that oh so precious blood locked in at the lowest link of the Yharnam food chain, and meant the hunting of beasts and hunters alike required far more planning and patience than he could afford.

Which means evening the odds, if only slightly.

"Watch the tide my son, drawn in and out with every breath Mother Kosm takes as she blesses her children and damns the bastards who would bedevil them."

Couldn't just make do, no. Not when a saw cleaver needed the power of unnatural muscle to bite and gnaw through beasthide and bone, not when the kickback of a blunderbuss meant for a proper hunter could shatter every bone in your average man's arm. Have to break them down to their very bits, bury yourself within their mechanical innards to understand what makes them tick and click and work before attempting to resurrect them. Make them useful, make them potent for any fool to pick up and hunt without sacrificing the stopping power and killing edge they need to keep putting the damned beasts on a pyre.

"Watch the shore my son, for when Her children are left behind by the receding tide, we their brothers must deliver them back into Her embrace."

A bolt's tightened, and the hinge swings in and out without so much as a squeak or creak. With a more forceful jerk of the arm, the lugged spear head's swinging out to reveal the embedded blunderbuss's barrel. Leaning back with a stretch and a muttered curse or two at the twinging in his back, Sam shifts his shoulders and takes aim at the nearest wall. Flinty eyes narrow as he adjusts to the weight, soot-stained fingers running down the shaft of the remade riflespear in search of any unsightly cracks or bits sticking out where they shouldn't... before rising to his feet, taking a deep breath, and transforming the trick weapon.

"Watch your thoughts my son, for should we turn from the tide and the sea we likewise turn from Mother Kosm..."

In moments, the blunderbuss is obscured and the lugged spear takes its place. Gears turn without catching, springs tighten in preparation without snapping free, the bolts hold steady and the hinges don't give as a weapon once built for greater hands than his own obeys and doesn't fall to utter pieces. Sam releases his held breath with a rasp and a small laugh, something that feels like delight flickering in his spindly chest, before a cough snuffs it out and he's bent nearly half over while leaning on the riflespear.

"... and as the fiends, forever too shall we be cursed. Forever, and true."

[fandomcentral101]

Kyle Kingson and Lindy Taylor

Beastly

[mazedwilding]

God fucking damn it

I need another hairy sweaty trans person to rail me right the fuck now. I need their soft tummy to press into mine, I need to feel them in my guts. I need to bite and be feral and have the frustration forced out of my stressed-out brain by the sheer power behind their thrusts and sweet rough hands on my throat and even softer words in my ear.

[katyspersonal]

The trio that ambushes you in Yahar’gul after Bloodmoon is so iconic, actually? One of them is super feeble and old yet goes FERAL and runs in only underwear, but heyyyyy the helmet stays tf ON, another is the biggest fucking mountain out of all NPCs with data and shoots you from a cannon AND from a spear with the gun glued to it, third attacks you from around the corner like a rat... I just think they are neat. Besides the lamp in the area where they appear is broken after Bloodmoon, so they smashed it just to give you a hard time.

[zeroxxlhero]

Beastly Instincts • Vi & Caitlyn Kiramman

Warnings: 18+ characters, begging, edging, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, dom! Vi, sub! Reader, dom! Caitlyn, hair-pulling, double penetration, blowjobs, rough sex, foreplay, biting, blood-sucking, gp! Vi and Caitlyn, multiple orgasms

Pairings: Violet x You, Caitlyn x You, Vi x Caitlyn

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Caitlyn and Vi’s growing desperation leads to them initiating a search for you, their hunger not just for your blood but for the power and control you exude. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but you’ve turned it into something far more dangerous—a trap they walked into willingly, even knowing they might never escape.

The night was still, save for the whisper of wind that rustled through the leaves and carried the scent of the hunt. Caitlyn and Vi moved through the dense forest, side by side but worlds apart in focus. Both were creatures of power, bound by their instincts yet driven by something far more dangerous: the memory of you. The two of them had felt the pull of your blood, the intoxicating lure of the power and pleasure you’d given them, and now they wanted more.

No, they needed more.

“I told you, she’s not just some ordinary hunter,” Caitlyn hissed under her breath, her sharp eyes scanning the undergrowth. Her voice was measured, calculated, but there was a fire burning behind her composed demeanor. “She’s clever. She won’t make this easy.”

Vi frowned, flexing her fists as she cracked her knuckles. “Doesn’t matter how clever she thinks she is. I can track anything. We’ll find her.” Her confidence radiated like heat, but even she couldn’t deny the gnawing frustration clawing at her gut. She could still feel the phantom touch of your hands, the intoxicating tease of your presence, and it was driving her mad.

They moved in silence for a time, their heightened senses alert to every sound, every shift of the shadows. Caitlyn’s nostrils flared as she caught a faint trace of your scent on the wind, and her heart raced despite herself. It was subtle, almost maddeningly so, but it was there.

“She’s close,” Caitlyn muttered, her voice low and sharp.

Vi paused, tilting her head to catch the scent as well. Her body tensed like a spring ready to snap. “I’ve got it too. Let’s move.”

The hunt continued, the two predators weaving through the trees with predatory grace. They followed the faintest traces of you—a broken branch here, a scuffed footprint there. You were taunting them, leaving just enough of a trail to keep them chasing but never enough to catch you.

“She’s playing with us,” Caitlyn growled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. The edge of frustration in her voice was unmistakable, and Vi couldn’t help but smirk at her partner’s irritation.

“She’s good,” Vi admitted. “But she’s not perfect. Everyone slips up eventually.”

But deep down, both of them knew better. You weren’t slipping up. You were toying with them, leading them deeper into the forest, away from any semblance of control they thought they had. And that only made them want you more.

As they pushed forward, the air seemed to thicken, the tension between them growing. Caitlyn’s normally cold composure was fraying at the edges, her mind clouded with the memory of you—the way your blood had tasted, the way your voice had dripped with authority, the way you’d held complete control over her.

Vi, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with anticipation. She wasn’t the type to overthink things. She wanted action, and she wanted it now. The waiting, the searching, the endless chase—it was driving her insane.

Finally, the faint scent of smoke reached their noses, and both women froze. Their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. This was it. You were close.

They approached the source carefully, their bodies low and their senses on high alert. The scent of smoke was stronger now, mingled with something that made their blood sing—the faint, heady trace of you. It was enough to make Caitlyn’s mouth water and Vi’s heart race.

The small campsite came into view, the dying embers of a fire casting flickering shadows against the trees. But the clearing was empty.

“Damn it,” Vi muttered under her breath, her frustration boiling over. “She was here.”

Caitlyn’s sharp eyes scanned the area, her mind racing. She didn’t believe for a second that you’d just left without a reason. “Be careful,” she warned. “This could be—”

Before she could finish, a low, melodic chuckle echoed through the trees, stopping both women in their tracks. It was your voice, smooth and mocking, and it sent a shiver down their spines.

“Well, well,” you drawled, stepping out of the shadows with a predator’s grace. “Look who came crawling back.”

Caitlyn and Vi spun to face you, their bodies tense and ready, but there was no mistaking the hunger in their eyes. You stood before them, calm and composed, as if you hadn’t been the one hunted all night.

“Miss me that much, did you?” you teased, your lips curling into a smirk.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Caitlyn snapped, though the sharp edge of her voice faltered as her eyes darted to the faint cut on your arm, the scent of your blood filling the air once more.

Vi growled low in her throat, her fists clenching at her sides. “You’re not getting away this time.”

You laughed softly, the sound like velvet, and took a slow step closer. “Oh, sweet Vi,” you said, your voice dripping with amusement. “You think this little hunt was for me? No, darling, it was for you. Both of you.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched as she realized just how completely you’d played them. You hadn’t been running from them—you’d been leading them, controlling the entire game from the start. And now, standing before you, she felt it again—that pull, that undeniable need that made her knees weak and her resolve waver.

“Now,” you said, your smile widening as you looked between them. “Why don’t we see just how desperate you’ve both become?”

The tension in the clearing was palpable, the air charged with the energy of two predators sizing up their prey—or so they thought. Vi cracked her knuckles, her grin more animalistic than confident now, while Caitlyn’s glowing eyes locked onto you, her sharp fangs bared as she gauged your every move.

“Enough,” Vi growled, her voice low and feral. “Let’s end this.”

The first strike came fast, almost too fast. Vi lunged forward, her fist aimed squarely at your jaw, the sheer force of her punch enough to snap a tree in half. But you sidestepped at the last second, your movements smooth and precise, as if you’d been expecting it all along. Her fist sailed past, hitting nothing but air.

Before Vi could recover, Caitlyn was already on you, her speed a blur as she closed the distance and swiped at you with claws sharp enough to cut steel. You ducked low, feeling the rush of air as her claws missed your head by inches. With a fluid motion, you spun and brought your leg up, kicking Caitlyn squarely in the chest and sending her stumbling back a few feet.

“You’re both getting sloppy,” you taunted, your voice calm despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I expected better from Piltover’s finest.”

Vi snarled, her frustration bubbling over. “Shut up!” She came at you again, this time with a flurry of punches that were faster and more erratic. But for every strike, you had a counter. You weaved between her attacks, your body moving like water, fluid and untouchable. The sound of her fists cutting through the air was deafening, but not a single blow landed.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, had regained her footing. She darted in from the side, attempting to catch you off guard. Her claws flashed in the moonlight as she aimed for your throat, but you dropped into a low slide, narrowly avoiding her strike. As you slid past her, you hooked your leg around her ankle, causing her to trip and tumble to the ground.

The two women regrouped, panting slightly but far from finished. Their eyes burned with determination, and something more—something wild. They weren’t just fighting anymore. They were hunting. And they were losing themselves to the thrill of it.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you asked, your smirk infuriatingly smug as you straightened up. “Letting the beast out. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Shut your mouth,” Caitlyn snapped, her voice low and venomous. She wiped a trickle of blood from her lip, her eyes narrowing as she glared at you.

Vi growled, her muscles tensing as she prepared to charge again. “You’re not getting out of this one. Not alive.”

You feigned heartbreak, “Oh, Vi, I can’t believe you would do such a thing to me. I thought we were just getting closer.”

This time, they came at you together, their movements coordinated and feral. Caitlyn moved with the precision of a predator, her strikes calculated and deadly, while Vi was raw power, her punches shaking the very ground beneath your feet. But even as they pushed themselves harder, faster, more monstrous, you kept up.

You ducked under Vi’s punch, countered Caitlyn’s clawed swipe with a swift kick to her side, and leapt over a combined attack that would have torn any other opponent to shreds. Your movements were almost… effortless.

It was starting to sink in for them. You weren’t just skilled. You weren’t just lucky. You were something else.

“What the hell are you?” Vi snarled, her chest heaving as she circled you. There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes now, and she hated it. Hated that you were still standing, still smirking, still in control.

Caitlyn’s gaze was sharper, more analytical even in her feral state. She could feel it—the wrongness of you. The way you moved, the way you fought, the way you seemed to anticipate their every move. “You’re not human,” she said, her voice quieter but no less dangerous. “Are you?”

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I wouldn’t make that assumption.”

Their silence was telling. For all their bravado, for all their power, they were realizing just how outmatched they were.

But the fight wasn’t over. Not yet.

Caitlyn lunged at you again, her movements a blur as she aimed straight for your throat. You sidestepped, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible. She hissed in pain but didn’t cry out, her pride refusing to let you see her weakness.

Vi charged in next, her fists glowing faintly with a hint of her suppressed power. You released Caitlyn just in time to dodge Vi’s attack, her punch grazing your ribs but not quite connecting. You spun, your foot sweeping out to catch Vi’s ankle, but she jumped back, snarling in frustration.

“Getting tired, are we?” you teased, your tone infuriatingly calm as you faced them both. “You can keep going if you want, but I think we all know how this ends.”

They didn’t respond. Words weren’t necessary anymore. They were too far gone, too lost in the hunt, too consumed by the memory of you and the maddening need to have you at their mercy.

The fight reached a boiling point, the air around you thick with tension and fury. Vi and Caitlyn moved with increasing speed and power, their attacks fueled by frustration and primal rage. They weren’t holding back anymore, their monstrous sides emerging as they fought with a ferocity that would have overwhelmed any normal opponent.

But you weren’t normal, were you?

Vi charged forward, her punches coming in a blur of motion, each one powerful enough to shatter stone. You weaved through them effortlessly, your movements precise and almost lazy, like a predator playing with its prey. Caitlyn flanked her, her claws aimed at your side, but you ducked and spun away, leaving them to collide with each other in their frenzy.

“You’re getting sloppy,” you taunted, sidestepping another wild swing from Vi. “I thought you two were supposed to be the best of the best. Guess I was wrong.”

Vi growled, her voice guttural as her frustration mounted. “Stand still, you coward!”

She lunged at you, her fist glowing faintly with suppressed power, but you sidestepped her again, grabbing her arm mid-swing. With a fluid motion, you flipped over her, twisting her arm behind her back and forcing her into an excruciatingly arched position. She let out a strained snarl, her muscles trembling with the effort to break free.

Leaning in close, you grinned, revealing a pair of sharp fangs. “Tell me, Vi,” you murmured, your voice low and mocking. “Do you have a preference? Vampires… or humans?” Your teeth hovered dangerously close to her throat, the promise of a bite lingering in the air.

Before you could make good on your threat, Caitlyn’s furious snarl ripped through the chaos. She charged at you, her glowing eyes blazing with fury. You shoved Vi away just in time, sending her tumbling to the ground, and dissolved into a swirling black mist as Caitlyn’s claws swiped through where you’d been a moment before.

The mist reformed behind her, and when she turned, her eyes widened in shock. You stood there, no longer the calm, human figure they’d been fighting. Your amber eyes glowed like molten gold, and your hands had morphed into claws sharp enough to tear through steel. The faint outline of fur traced your arms, and your grin was sharp and predatory.

“Werewolves, Caitlyn,” you said, your voice a low rumble. “Not all of them are mindless beasts. Some of them know how to have a little fun.”

Caitlyn froze, her feral instincts clashing with the disbelief on her face. “You’re—you’re a wolf?” Her voice faltered, her confusion and rage warring with each other.

Vi, picking herself up from the ground, stared at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “That’s not possible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re—you’re human.”

You chuckled darkly, flexing your claws as you regarded them with an almost casual air. “You’re right, I am human. I bleed like a human. Smell like one too. It’s what makes the hunt so much more fun.” You took a step closer, your eyes flicking between the two of them. “But you’ve felt it, haven’t you? That little itch in the back of your mind telling you something’s off? You knew I wasn’t normal.”

Caitlyn growled low in her throat, her glowing eyes narrowing as she tried to reconcile what she was seeing. “What are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp with accusation.

You tilted your head, your grin widening. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Their rage reignited, and this time, there was no holding back. Vi lunged at you with a roar, her fists swinging with a force that made the ground tremble. Caitlyn flanked her, her claws slicing through the air with deadly precision. Their movements were faster now, more animalistic, their monstrous sides fully unleashed.

For the first time, you had to take them seriously. You met Vi’s punch with a block, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground, and twisted to avoid Caitlyn’s claws, her strike barely grazing your side. Their power was overwhelming, even for you, and you found yourself being pushed back.

But you didn’t lose your composure. Instead, you smirked, your movements becoming even more fluid as you dodged and countered their attacks. “You’re both getting desperate,” you teased, sliding under Vi’s swing and narrowly avoiding Caitlyn’s strike. “It’s cute.”

Caitlyn let out a snarl of frustration, her claws glowing faintly as she lashed out again. Vi followed up with a punch aimed directly at your head, but you ducked under it, grabbing her arm and twisting her to the side.

“You’re not human,” Vi growled, her voice strained as she tried to break free. “You can’t be.”

“Good observation,” you said with a smirk, tossing her aside and dodging Caitlyn’s attack in the same motion. “Took you long enough.”

Their feral instincts had fully taken over now, their attacks wild and relentless. But you knew when it was time to end a game. As Vi charged at you again, her fists glowing with raw power, you dissolved into black mist once more, letting her attack pass harmlessly through you.

The mist swirled around them, disorienting them as they tried to locate you. “Time to cool off,” your voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, tinged with amusement.

When the mist dissipated, you were gone, leaving Vi and Caitlyn standing there, panting and furious, their monstrous sides still clawing for control. But in the quiet that followed, one thing was clear: they hadn’t even begun to uncover the truth of what you were.

Caitlyn’s rage was unstoppable. Her mind clouded by the thirst, her vision tunneled to the scent of your blood. It consumed her completely, driving her to abandon everything else—reason, restraint, and her usual calm. She felt herself losing control with every step, and though Vi’s voice echoed behind her, calling her name and trying to pull her back, Caitlyn couldn’t stop. The hunger was a beast inside her, and it was all she could do to keep it at bay long enough to follow your trail.

She tore through the streets with frightening speed, her senses sharpened, homing in on your scent as it led her to a small, dimly lit town. She stalked through the streets, her fangs already extended, eyes burning with that bloodlust that had taken over her. The people she passed didn’t even notice the air around her change, but she could hear the beat of their hearts, smell the warmth of their blood. She had to hold back. She was going to find you. She was going to make you pay, but she couldn’t show her powers to anyone, not yet. The town had no idea what was coming, and she was going to keep it that way.

Finally, she reached the bar where the scent of you was thick, almost suffocating. The door creaked open as she slipped inside, scanning the room with a predator’s gaze. And there you were. Sitting at the bar, so casual, as if you weren’t the cause of everything that had broken inside her. The moment your eyes met, she could feel that familiar wave of fury crashing over her again.

Her fangs elongated, her hands trembling with the effort to control her power. Her eyes flashed red, and a low growl rumbled from her throat. She didn’t care about the eyes that were starting to look her way; you were the only thing that mattered. She stalked toward you, her every step radiating pure menace. There was no reasoning left in her, no fear. Just the unrelenting need to tear you apart, to drink from you until there was nothing left.

But you didn’t flinch. Instead, you smirked, your posture relaxed as you watched her approach, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “Careful, Caitlyn,” you warned, your voice smooth, deliberate. “You don’t want to make a scene in front of a bunch of hunters. They’d take you down faster than you could say your mother’s name.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the rage in them intensified, but there was a moment of hesitation. She could feel the presence of others in the room now. The hunters, the ones who had been lurking, waiting. Her bloodlust was on the verge of consuming her completely, but you had her on the edge of two choices—fight or retreat.

She didn’t listen. She lunged, her body a blur of motion, intent on bringing you to your knees.

But you were ready. Faster than she could process, you reached out and grabbed her by the collar, yanking her forward with force that made her stumble. The shock of it hit her like a jolt of cold water, and for a split second, she froze. Her fangs were still bared, her lips curled in a snarl, but there was no action. Not yet.

And then, in one swift movement, you pulled her into a kiss. It was forceful, demanding, and Caitlyn’s mind went blank. Her breath hitched, her body stiffened in surprise, but there was something strangely calming in your touch, a strange power in your control. The hunger in her lessened, her senses buzzing as she tried to regain control over herself.

“Relax,” you murmured against her lips, your voice low and teasing. “You’ll be able to show me those scary vampire powers later.”

Something inside her shifted. The red in her eyes dulled, just a fraction, enough for her to think clearly again. She pushed against you, still furious, but she couldn’t shake the unsettling calm you had instilled in her.

You released her from the kiss and pushed her gently but firmly into a chair. “Stay seated,” you said, your tone firm but not unkind. “Let the storm pass for now.”

Caitlyn was still seething, her heart pounding with frustration, but the primal rage that had gripped her was fading. She remained seated, her fangs retracting, her breath returning to a more normal pace. She clenched her fists, silently simmering in the chair, the tension still thick in the air.

Moments later, the door to the bar creaked open again, and Vi stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room, locking onto Caitlyn before her gaze shifted to you. The tension between the three of you was palpable. Vi’s eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. She stalked toward the table, every step measured and cautious, a predator assessing her prey.

As Vi moved to stand beside Caitlyn, you leaned back in your chair, unfazed, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t make any threatening moves, Vi,” you warned, your voice calm but edged with something darker. “One of the hunters in this room will be wearing your canines as a necklace before the night is over.”

Vi paused, her gaze flicking toward the people around the bar. She looked at Caitlyn, the two of them silently communicating with just a glance, both of them reluctantly understanding the situation. Slowly, without another word, Vi took a seat at the table across from you.

You watched the two of them closely, the tension between them and the room shifting into something more controlled, more calculated. The game had changed.

Now, you were in charge.

And they knew it.

“What now?” Caitlyn finally spoke, her voice quiet, but the edge of her anger still evident.

You met her gaze, your smile never wavering. “Now, we wait,” you said simply. “But don’t think for a second that I’m going to make this easy for either of you.”

Vi and Caitlyn exchanged another look, both of them more aware than ever that they were dealing with someone who wasn’t just playing by the rules—they were dealing with someone who made their rules.

And the night was just beginning.

The moment stretched unbearably for Vi and Caitlyn as they sat across from you, forced to watch while you leisurely sipped your drink. The tension between you all was palpable, a wire stretched to its breaking point. For them, it felt like an eternity of restraint, each tick of the clock dragging them further into frustration. You were composed, maddeningly so, your casual demeanor only fueling their growing impatience. Caitlyn’s knuckles were white against the table, her nails threatening to break the wood beneath them. Vi, though trying to appear calmer, had her leg bouncing under the table, a clear sign of her fraying patience.

Finally, Caitlyn snapped. She slammed her hand onto the table, leaning forward with a glare so sharp it could have cut glass. “Enough games,” she growled, her voice low but brimming with fury. “Why are you doing this? Why us? Everything you’ve done—every little game—it’s all been to get our attention, hasn’t it? You knew we’d fall for it. Every single time.”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you smirked, the glint in your eyes both infuriating and captivating. Swirling the last of your drink, you finally set the glass down with a deliberate clink and leaned back in your chair, as if you were pondering her question. “You know,” you began, your tone playful yet cutting, “I think you’re starting to figure it out.”

Caitlyn’s glare darkened, her fangs peeking through as she fought to keep her composure. Vi’s gaze darted between you and Caitlyn, her own frustration evident, though she held back, letting her partner do the talking for now.

“You’re good little beasts,” you continued, your voice dripping with amusement. “Always coming running the second you catch my scent. Obedient, relentless… predictable.” You leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Caitlyn. “You want to know why? Because you like it. The chase, the fight, the thrill—you crave it, even if you won’t admit it.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, and Vi’s fists clenched, her patience wearing thin. But before either could respond, you leaned closer to Caitlyn, your smirk growing into something sharper, more dangerous. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you bit down hard on your lower lip. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, and the effect was immediate.

Caitlyn froze, her gaze snapping to your lips, where a thin line of crimson welled up. Her nostrils flared, and her pupils dilated, a flash of red overtaking her irises as her vampire instincts surged to the surface. She gripped the table tightly, her claws beginning to dig into the wood as she fought to maintain control. Her composure was slipping, her breathing becoming shallow and uneven.

You tilted your head slightly, your voice dropping to a low, almost taunting murmur. “Do you want it, Caitlyn?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her attention was solely fixed on the blood, the scent drawing her in like a moth to a flame. She barely registered your words as her instincts battled with her self-control.

“Go on,” you encouraged, your tone soft but laced with a challenge. “Clean it up. I won’t stop you.”

For a moment, Caitlyn’s restraint faltered entirely. She leaned closer, her fangs fully extended now, her breath ragged. Her gaze flicked to yours, and for a fleeting second, there was hesitation—perhaps a trace of shame or conflict. But it was quickly swallowed by the primal hunger surging through her.

She closed the distance, her movements almost trembling with need, and before she could second-guess herself, her lips brushed against yours. Her fangs scraped lightly against your skin as her tongue darted out, catching the bead of blood that threatened to spill. The taste was electric, a jolt that sent her instincts spiraling out of control.

Vi’s voice cut through the haze like a whip. “Caitlyn,” she snapped, her tone sharp, though it lacked the full conviction of disapproval. There was a flicker of something else in her voice—curiosity, maybe even jealousy.

But Caitlyn didn’t pull back. If anything, Vi’s interruption only made her grip on the moment tighten. Her hands, still clenched against the table, trembled as she fought to maintain some semblance of control while indulging in the taste of you.

You chuckled softly, your voice steady despite the ferocity in Caitlyn’s actions. “There you go,” you murmured, almost teasingly. “Good girl.”

The words seemed to snap something in Caitlyn. She growled low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as she pulled back slightly, her crimson-stained eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around you both, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance.

Vi, still seated, was tense, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. There was a flicker of conflict in her gaze, torn between stepping in and staying back.

You leaned back slightly, licking the corner of your lip as if reclaiming what Caitlyn had taken. “See?” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “You couldn’t help yourself.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond, her breathing still uneven as she fought to regain her composure. The hunger in her eyes hadn’t faded entirely, but there was something else there now—frustration, humiliation, maybe even a reluctant acknowledgment of the truth in your words.

You turned your attention to Vi, who was glaring at you with equal parts anger and intrigue. “What about you, Vi?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Are you going to sit there and pretend you’re above it? Or are you just waiting your turn?”

The challenge in your tone was unmistakable, and for a moment, Vi’s hands flexed, as if she were considering lunging across the table. But she stayed rooted in place, her jaw tight and her gaze locked onto yours.

“Thought so,” you said with a smirk, leaning back in your chair once again. The game was far from over, and you were enjoying every second of it.

The tension in the room thickened as you shifted your attention from Caitlyn to Vi, a slow, deliberate move that felt like a predator locking onto its next prey. Vi’s sharp blue eyes met yours, her expression a mix of defiance and barely concealed curiosity. You leaned back lazily, crossing your arms as if this were all a casual conversation instead of the charged, dangerous game it truly was.

“Hmm,” you began, your voice dripping with mock contemplation, loud enough to draw Caitlyn’s wary glare back to you. “I’ve always wondered what werewolves really liked. I mean, vampires? Easy. Blood, obviously. Power. Control. But werewolves…” Your eyes flicked to Vi, watching her jaw clench as her fingers gripped the edge of the table. “What’s the deal with them?”

Vi didn’t respond, but her eyes narrowed as she leaned slightly forward, her muscles tense. The corners of your mouth curled into a smirk, and you continued as if pondering the answer aloud.

“Is it the thrill of the hunt?” you mused, tilting your head. “The feeling of the ground under your claws as you chase your prey? Or maybe it’s the fight? That surge of adrenaline when you’re up against someone who won’t go down easy. Or…” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice, and though your tone was quiet, it carried across the table like a taunt. “Maybe it’s something else entirely. Something more… primal?”

Vi’s breathing hitched ever so slightly, and you didn’t miss the way her eyes briefly flicked to your throat before she forced herself to look away. Her reaction only fueled your teasing.

“Do werewolves like to dominate?” you asked, your voice just loud enough for her to hear. “Or is it the opposite? Do they like to be pinned down, teeth at their throat, heart racing because they know they’re at someone else’s mercy?” You paused, letting the words hang in the air, watching as Vi’s hands flexed against the table, her knuckles turning white.

You leaned even closer, your voice dropping to a low murmur meant only for her. “What about you, Vi? Is that what you want? To take me down? Or…” Your smirk widened, your eyes gleaming with amusement as you delivered the next line with deliberate slowness. “Do you want me to do that to you?”

The reaction was immediate. Vi shot to her feet, the chair screeching against the floor as her fists slammed onto the table. Her expression was a volatile mix of anger and something darker, something she didn’t want to name but couldn’t entirely suppress. Caitlyn’s head snapped toward her partner, a flicker of concern breaking through her still-recovering composure.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Vi growled, her voice low and dangerous. Her heightened senses made it impossible to ignore the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, and the maddeningly calm scent of you—human, yet not—only further stoked the fire in her veins.

You leaned back casually, unbothered by her outburst, and shrugged. “I mean, I’m entertaining myself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Vi’s teeth bared slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like she was about to lunge across the table. Caitlyn’s hand shot out, gripping Vi’s arm, and though her strength was still shaky from her earlier loss of control, it was enough to hold Vi in place.

“Don’t,” Caitlyn warned, her voice sharp but tinged with the same frustration. She wasn’t defending you, not entirely—but she knew that causing a scene in this bar, surrounded by hunters, would end badly for both of them.

You watched the exchange with mild amusement, raising your glass for another sip before setting it down with deliberate slowness. “Careful, Vi,” you said, your tone mocking but underlined with a hint of genuine warning. “You wouldn’t want to prove me right, would you? That you’re just as predictable as your partner over here?”

Vi’s gaze burned into yours, her chest rising and falling with barely restrained rage. “I’m not predictable,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, grinning. Then, as if to drive the point home, you added, “You came running just like she did. And you’re still here. And you keep coming back. Why is that, Vi? What’s keeping you glued to that spot? Is it the thrill? The challenge?” You tilted your head slightly, your grin sharpening into something more dangerous. “Or is it me?”

Caitlyn’s grip on Vi’s arm tightened, her crimson eyes narrowing as she spoke, her voice low but filled with warning. “Stop provoking her.”

You glanced at Caitlyn, your grin softening into a smirk. “Oh, I’m not provoking her. I’m just asking questions.” Then, turning your attention back to Vi, you added, “She’s the one getting worked up. Must’ve hit a nerve.”

Vi took a step back, her fists still clenched, her entire body trembling with the effort to keep her composure. For a moment, silence hung between you all, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, Vi let out a slow, shuddering breath and sat back down, though her glare never left your face.

“Good girl,” you murmured, the words dripping with condescension, and Vi’s knuckles cracked as her fists tightened once again.

Caitlyn shot you a sharp look, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re walking a fine line.”

You met her gaze evenly, your smirk unshaken. “Oh, I know exactly where the line is.” You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms behind your head. “The question is, how long can you two stay on your side of it?”

The clink of coins on the counter marked the end of your drink as you finished it in one smooth motion, savoring the silence that followed. You rose from your seat with a fluidity that made even the smallest movement seem deliberate. Vi and Caitlyn, ever vigilant, mirrored your movement almost immediately, their eyes trained on you like hawks circling prey. Despite the seething animosity that practically radiated from them, neither could bring themselves to break away from your orbit.

As you adjusted your coat, you cast them a lazy glance over your shoulder, smirking faintly at how they followed so closely. “Well,” you announced, your voice calm but carrying just enough of an edge to draw their attention. “I think it’s about time I turned in for the night.”

“Like hell you are,” Vi growled, stepping closer, her sharp glare boring into you.

Caitlyn stood rigid beside her, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her crimson eyes glowing faintly under the dim bar lights. “After everything? You think you can just leave?” Her voice was clipped, the words escaping through clenched teeth.

Your smirk widened, clearly enjoying their defiance. “Oh? And why not?” you asked, your tone light but steeped in mockery. “What’s stopping me from walking out that door? Surely you’re not saying you need me to stay?”

Vi bristled at the implication, her fists tightening at her sides. “Don’t twist this around.”

“I don’t have to,” you replied easily, your gaze sliding between the two of them. “You’re both doing that just fine on your own.” You took a single step toward them, your presence almost suffocating as the smirk on your lips softened into something more mischievous. “So tell me—why can’t I leave? What is it you’re both so desperate to say but won’t?”

Silence fell between them, the tension palpable as they both stared at you, their emotions warring just beneath the surface. Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep control. Vi, on the other hand, looked ready to throw a punch, her body vibrating with barely contained frustration.

When neither of them spoke, you chuckled softly, shaking your head. “That’s what I thought,” you murmured, almost pityingly. Then you tilted your head, feigning curiosity as you asked, “Or maybe…” You paused, letting the words hang in the air. “Maybe you just don’t want me to go because deep down, you like this. The chase, the thrill. The fact that I’m the only one who can make you feel this alive.”

Their reactions were immediate. Vi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her nostrils flaring as she clenched her fists tighter. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes glowed brighter, her composure cracking just enough to reveal the storm beneath.

Before they could argue, you took another step forward, this time closing the distance entirely. Standing between them, you reached out, one hand gently brushing against Vi’s cheek, the other cupping Caitlyn’s with a surprising tenderness. They both stiffened under your touch, their bodies rigid and their breathing shallow.

“There’s no shame in it,” you said softly, your voice low and almost soothing. “It’s natural to want to follow your instincts. To give in.” Your thumbs grazed their skin lightly before you pulled your hands away, your smirk returning as you straightened. “So… are you coming with me, or do I leave you here to brood?”

They exchanged a brief glance, their pride clearly warring with something deeper, something primal. And yet, neither of them moved to stop you as you turned toward the door. Instead, when you stepped outside into the cool night air, they followed, silent but determined, their presence a steady weight at your back.

You cast a glance over your shoulder as they fell into step behind you, their reluctance betrayed by the fire still burning in their eyes. With a faint chuckle, you reached out and patted them both on the cheek once more, a gesture that was equal parts condescending and oddly affectionate. “Good little beasts,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement as you began to lead the way. “This is going to be fun.”

..

The tavern was dimly lit and smelled faintly of ale and woodsmoke. You strode up to the front desk with the same air of confidence you always carried, Vi and Caitlyn trailing just behind you like reluctant shadows. The woman behind the counter, a middle-aged tavern keeper with a tired but pleasant face, perked up as you approached.

“I need a room,” you said smoothly, your voice low and calm. “Something soundproof.”

The request was simple, but it hung in the air like a thunderclap. The woman blinked, momentarily taken aback, her gaze flickering to Vi and Caitlyn, who stood rigid behind you. Caitlyn’s sharp, elegant features were still taut with barely contained tension, while Vi’s fists remained clenched at her sides, her glare aimed at the back of your head.

The tavern keeper’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as her imagination filled in the gaps. “Soundproof, you say?” she repeated, her voice faltering just slightly.

You gave her a polite, knowing smile, leaning an elbow on the counter as you added, “Yes, soundproof. Privacy is very important to me, you see.” Your tone was calm, but there was a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed.

Her gaze darted to Caitlyn and Vi again, lingering on the two of them with a flustered expression. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, her vampiric features giving her a dangerous beauty that likely unnerved the woman. Vi, with her broad shoulders and tense stance, looked no less intimidating. The tavern keeper cleared her throat and fumbled for the ledger in front of her.

“Right, well,” she said quickly, avoiding direct eye contact as she flipped through the pages. “We do have a room that should meet your… requirements.” Her tone carried a distinct undertone of awkwardness, and you could see the way her hands trembled slightly as she scribbled something down.

You tilted your head slightly, watching her reaction with thinly veiled amusement. “Perfect,” you said, sliding a few coins across the counter. “I appreciate your discretion.”

The woman nodded quickly, still avoiding eye contact as she slid a key toward you. “Room at the end of the hall. Quiet as a graveyard. Should be just what you’re looking for.”

Her choice of words earned a faint chuckle from you. “Graveyard, hmm? Fitting.” You straightened, pocketing the key before casting a glance back at Vi and Caitlyn. “Come on, then,” you said casually, gesturing for them to follow.

As you turned, you caught the tavern keeper’s gaze darting between Caitlyn and Vi again, her expression a mix of confusion and embarrassment. She clearly didn’t know what to make of the situation, but she was far too polite—or too scared—to ask questions.

The three of you moved toward the stairs, the tension between you palpable. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes still glowed faintly, her composure hanging by a thread, while Vi’s scowl deepened with every step, her fists clenching and unclenching as if itching for a fight.

When you reached the room, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving it open just long enough for them to follow. You didn’t bother waiting for them to settle in before leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and surveying them both with a faint smirk.

“Well,” you drawled, “now that we have some privacy, let’s talk.”

You leaned casually against the wall, your smirk widening as your eyes flicked between the two of them. Caitlyn’s crimson gaze was fixed on you, unblinking and unnervingly intense, while Vi stood a little behind her, arms crossed and jaw clenched tightly enough to crack. They both looked like predators cornered into an uneasy alliance, trying to decide whether to lunge or retreat.

You grin, an expression that was predatory and chilling.

“So,” you began, your voice low and teasing, “why is it, exactly, that you two are chasing me like this? Hmm? Can’t get enough of me? Or maybe…” You stepped forward, inching closer to Caitlyn with an almost predatory grace, “…you’re just bored and need a little excitement in your lives?”

Caitlyn stiffened as you approached, her jaw tightening. Her fangs gleamed faintly under the lantern light, and her red eyes never left yours, but she didn’t move. Vi, behind you, let out a low, irritated huff, but you could feel her tension like a coiled spring. She wasn’t going to make the first move—not yet.

Caitlyn’s composure finally cracked. She took a step forward, her fangs fully bared and her voice trembling with fury. “You’re toying with us,” she spat. “You think this is some game you’re in control of, but you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“Or,” you continued, tilting your head slightly as you closed the distance to Caitlyn, “maybe it’s something else. Something deeper. A craving you can’t quite ignore. A thrill you can’t resist.” Your voice dropped to a near whisper, soft and coaxing. “Is that it, Caitlyn? Am I the only one who can give you what you really want?”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her composure cracking for just a moment before she forced herself back into control. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She didn’t answer, but the way her crimson eyes flickered betrayed her struggle.

You smirked, taking another step closer until you were right in front of her. Her tall frame loomed over you, but you showed no fear. If anything, the proximity only seemed to embolden you. Behind you, you could sense Vi shifting slightly, her frustration simmering as she watched the scene unfold.

“And Vi,” you said suddenly, your tone light and almost playful as you glanced over your shoulder. “What about you? What’s your excuse? I know you’ve been itching for a fight, but this?” You gestured vaguely to the room, the tension, the chase. “This isn’t just about a fight, is it? No… you’re just as caught up in this as Caitlyn.”

Vi growled low in her throat, but her hesitation was telling. She didn’t deny it. She didn’t even move. You chuckled softly and turned back to Caitlyn, your gaze locking with hers as you reached up, your hand moving with deliberate slowness.

“Maybe it’s time to admit it,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate. Your fingers brushed lightly against Caitlyn’s cheek, your touch gentle yet firm. Her skin was cool beneath your fingertips, and her breath hitched again, her eyes widening slightly as you leaned in just enough to invade her space.

“You’re both here because you want to be,” you said, your words cutting through the silence like a blade. “Because no matter how much you hate me—or how much you hate yourselves for it—you can’t stay away.”

Caitlyn’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her eyes darted between yours, her fangs still bared, but her resolve was slipping. Behind you, Vi’s breathing grew heavier, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

Your fingers trail over the exposed skin of Caitlyn’s neck, her collarbone. She trembles beneath your touch, her fangs biting into her lower lip as you descend.

Lower.

Lower.

Your hand ghosts over the flat plane of her stomach, dipping into the waistband of her pants. The need to feel her, to explore the secrets hidden beneath the fabric, is a living thing inside you. But you have company. A warm, solid weight at your back. Vi flanks you, her front pressing to your back as she watches you with heavy-lidded eyes. A growl rumbles deep in her throat, a wordless approval as you cup Caitlyn through her pants.

Caitlyn hisses through clenched teeth as you stroke her through the fabric of her pants. The need to rip away that barrier, to feel her soft, pliant skin is an itch beneath your nails. But Vi's presence at your back is a steadying influence, a reminder that this is a game, a dance. So you hold back, contenting yourself with teasing swirls of your palm over her clothed length.

"You want this, love?" you coo, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Want to feel me wrapped around you, squeezing you so tight you forget your own name?" Your hand squeezes as if to punctuate your words, and Caitlyn's hips jerk into your touch. You smile, all teeth and wicked promises. She snarls, her hands clenching at her sides as she fights the urge to grab you, to take what you're so coyly offering.

You stroke her slow, maddeningly slow, keeping your touch feather-light to drive her wild. She’s squirming now, her hips rocking into your palm seeking more friction. You obligingly tighten your grip, humming low in your throat as she pulses against you.

"Such an eager vampire," you taunt, your thumb swiping over the tip of her cock. "So desperate for my touch. Will do anything for it, won't you?" To emphasize your point, you drop to your knees before her, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses along her length. The need to taste her, to feel her slide over your tongue is an ache in your mouth.

But you have patience.

You suck her through the fabric, letting your teeth graze the sensitive flesh beneath.

She reacts sharply, hissing as your teeth scrape over her straining erection. You do it again, purposefully, your tongue a wet swirl against the hidden shape of her. The need to see her, to truly appreciate the sight of her cock is a burning demand. Without warning, you rip open her fly, your fingers delving into the newfound space.

Your hand wraps around her immediately, the hot, hard length of her against your palm making your mouth water. She's perfect, thick and veiny and hard enough to hurt. The need to swallow her down, to feel her stretching your throat, is a pulsing throb between your legs. But you hold off, settling for a gentle pump of your wrist as you lave the weeping tip with kittenish licks.

You swirl around the swollen head, collecting every drop of pearly pre-cum as it leaks from her tip. She squirms, her hands fisting at her sides as you torment her. The need to wrap your lips around her, to finally put her out of her misery, is a desperate clawing thing. So you do, hollowing your cheeks as you slide down her cock. The taste of her explodes across your tongue, musky and masculine and so deliciously hers.

You swallow around her, fighting your gag reflex as she nudges the back of your throat. The sound she makes is pure sex, a drawn out moan that has your cunt clenching. You do it again, over and over until she's reduced to a panting, pleading mess.

Caitlyn's hands bury in your hair as you release her from your mouth with an obscene pop. She's panting, her chest heaving as you continue to stroke her steadily.

The need to hear Vi's permission, her okay to touch and taste is a sudden, desperate thing. You gazed over your shoulder, your tongue peeking out to wet your swollen lips. "Want me to suck you too, baby?" you purr, your voice husky with desire. "Want to feel that pretty cock fucking my throat while I swallow Caitlyn's cum?"

Vi's answering growl is low and primal, her fangs flashing as she licks her lips. In an instant she's behind you, her hands making quick work of her pants as she frees her massive erection. The thick length slaps against your cheek, smearing pre-cum over your skin. "Yes," she hisses. "Fucking yes.”

You return your attention to Caitlyn, your hand stroking her with renewed purpose. You scoot forward, your free hand wrapping around Vi's muscular thigh for balance as you take Caitlyn's cock back into your mouth. Your lips stretch obscenely around her girth, your jaw aching as you force yourself to relax.

But she doesn't push for more, allowing you to set the pace as you bob up and down her length. Beside you, Vi hisses, her claws scoring your hips as she watches you. Your core clenches, arousal flooding your panties at the feral possessiveness in her growl. Your neck aches from the strain of your double task, the need to have both your beasts inside you, consuming you, a physical hunger. So you double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks as you swallow around Caitlyn's cock.

You alternate between the two cocks, your saliva mixing with their pre-cum to slick the way. One moment your mouth is wrapped around Caitlyn's impressive length, the next your hand is wrapped tight around Vi's massive girth. The need to taste them both, to feel them both, is a burning insistence in your gut. She reacts differently to your ministrations, Caitlyn's hips stuttering as you take her to the root, Vi's thrusting into your grip like it's the most natural thing in the world.

You work them together, your mouth coming down to gently suck Caitlyn's heavy sack. She doesn’t disappoint, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer, chasing her pleasure on your tongue. Beside you, Vi grunts, her rhythm faltering as you jerk her off with practiced strokes.

Caitlyn curses, a litany of praise falling from her lips as you worship her cock. Her grip on your hair tightens, bordering on painful as she fucks your face. The need to be used, to be nothing more than a convenient hole for their pleasure, is a dark thrill that races down your spine.

You pull back, releasing Caitlyn's cock with an obscene pop. Your spit shines on her cock, a testament to your oral attentions. But there are other ways to pleasure her, other ways to drive her wild with need. So you let your fingers do the talking, jacking her off with a loose, easy grip. The need to multitask, to pleasure both your lovers, is a challenge you're eager to meet. The need to have them coming undone because of you, to be the center of their universe, is a burning desire.

So you lean back, your hand continuing its steady work on Vi's dick even as you lave Caitlyn's with kittenish licks. The combined sensations are heady, intoxicating. A drop of pre-cum lands on your cheek, the warm wetness a brand against your skin.

You turn your head to the side, your mouth gaping wide in invitation. Vi stumbles forward eagerly, her cock sinking into your waiting throat with a low groan. You swallow around her, your nose pressing into the wild thatch of hair at the base of her dick. The need to breathe is a distant concern, eclipsed by the burning desire to taste Vi's pleasure on your tongue. Your tongue undulates along her length as she thrusts, your hollowed cheeks hollowing and swelling with the force of her strokes.

Beside you, Caitlyn groans, her hand joining yours as you feverishly pumps her cock. The added stimulation is too much, Vi's thrusts growing erratic as your throat squeezes around her. You bite back your own moan, the vibrations of your vocal cords urging her on.

You bob back and forth between the two, your hand working Caitlyn with feverish strokes even as you release Vi from your throat with an obscene slurp. You need to have them coming, to see them falling apart because of your touch, is a chant in your head. You kiss up Vi's dick, nuzzling into her heavy sack as your fist tightens around Caitlyn's dick.

She doesn’t hold back, her hips snapping into your grip with animalistic grunts. You need to taste them, to feel their hot release coating your hand and painting your skin, is a screaming desperation. So you lean forward, your hand twisting on Caitlyn's cock as your lips wrap around Vi's weeping tip.

Caitlyn hisses, her hips jerking erratically as her orgasm crashes over her. Hot, sticky ropes of cum paint your chest, splashing against your waiting skin in a show of mark-making that has your cunt clenching. But you have no time to bask in the warm, squelch of seed on your breasts. Vi's hands are fists in your hair, holding you in place as she fucks your throat with abandon. She snarls, a broken sound of ecstasy that mixes with Caitlyn's panting moans.

You swallow, your cheeks hollowing as you fight your own gag reflex. The taste of her, salty and thick and so unmistakably Vi, floods your senses. It's perfect. You moan around her, the vibrations of your throat catapulting her over the edge.

You stay kneeling on the floor, Vi's cock slipping from your lips with a lewd pop. Your chest is sticky with Caitlyn's release, the white ropes splattered across your heaving breasts like macabre war paint. They look down at you, panting and flushed and oh so very ready for round two. You need to be filled, to be stretched, to be utterly ruined by these magnificent creatures is a pulsing demand between your legs.

But first, you want to admire your handywork. Vi's cock is bobbing obscenely, pearly drops of cum beading at the tip. Caitlyn's is no different, the head engorged and leaking. You want to have them inside you, surrounding you, consuming you is a roar in your skull. You scoop up some of Caitlyn's seed, painting your lips like you're about to eat the most decadent treat.

Your thoughts are swallowed by Caitlyn's mouth as she yanks you up by your hair. Her kiss is hungry, desperate, her fangs scoring your lips in a way that has you opening automatically. Your blood mingles with her tongue, the coppery taste a metallic counterpoint to the musky flavors of sex and sweat that cling to your tongues. Behind you, Vi is a warm, solid presence, her canines worrying the nape of your neck in a mirror of her lover's actions.

Your head swims, the combination of pain and pleasure shorting out your circuits until the only thing that matters is the mouths on you, the hands groping, the cocks pressing urgently into your curves.

You surrender to it, to them, your body pliant and yielding as they manhandle you between them. You fall in Vi's arms, your fronts flushed together as Caitlyn crowds you from the back. The sword of Vi's tongue duels with the press of Caitlyn's fangs, the dual sensations stoking the fire in your veins to a roaring inferno.

You want to be touched everywhere, to be worshiped and cherished and fucked until you can't walk straight, is a chant in your head. Caitlyn plays her hands over your ribs, her thumbs flicking across your nipples. You moan, the breathless sound dying against Vi’s lips. She grinds into you, the hard length of her cock nestling between your thighs like it was made to be there. Vi cups your ass, her fingers digging into the pliant flesh as she grinds against you.

"Fuck," Vi groans, her hips grinding harder into you as she watches you debauch yourself. "Fuck,you're so hot like this. So desperate for us." Her words are a dark promise, the rumble of her voice making your clit throb. Behind you, Caitlyn seems to silently agree with her, her eyes glassy with lust as she takes in the sight of you.

"C’mon," you whisper, your voice raw and ragged. "I need you. Need you both. Need you to fucking breed me." The words are a revelation, a baptism in the basest, most fundamental of needs. And they're only too happy to oblige.

Caitlyn grabs your hips, spinning you around to face her. Her lips claim yours in a bruising kiss, her fangs nipping at your lower lip in a silent demand for entry. You yield, your mouth opening automatically to grant her access. Your tongues dance, the taste of you mixing together in a perverse mockery of foreplay. Behind you, Vi growls, her hands yanking your ass up and back in a move that has you gasping into Caitlyn's mouth. The change in angle puts your cunt right at the perfect height, Vi's dick nestling between your folds like it was made to be there. You shake, the heat of her almost too much to bear.

But that’s the point isn't it?

To burn in their fires, to be consumed by them until there's nothing left but cinders and ash. Caitlyn’s hands roam your body, calloused fingers teasing and taunting until you're a writhing mess in their arms. Every touch is an inferno, stoking the flames of your desire until you're ready to incinerate from the inside out. She scoops you up like you weigh nothing, your legs locking around her waist as she impales you on her thick dick with a single, smooth stroke. You wail, your head falling back on a scream of ecstasy as your cunt clenches around her. The stretch is obscene, your walls straining to accommodate her girth.

But oh, it feels so fucking good.

So right.

Vi's hands on your hips guide your movements, lifting you up and down on Caitlyn's cock like you weigh nothing. The drag of her dick against your walls is delicious agony, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Behind you, Vi grunts, her own hips rocking forward to slot her dick between your ass cheeks. The slick slide of it, hot and heavy and oh so very her, makes you clench hard around Caitlyn.

Behind you, she snarls, her hands digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise. But you don’t care. You just want to be marked, claimed, owned in every way possible, is a pulsing throb beneath your skin. The greed to be theirs is the only coherent thought left in your head.

They work you between them, Caitlyn's thrusts setting a brutal pace that Vi matches beat for beat. Your head lolls back onto Vi's shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourself in the rhythm. It’s hypnotic, the push and pull of their bodies, the slap of sweat-slicked flesh on flesh. Caitlyn sinks her fangs into your throat, marking you in a way that goes soul-deep. The pain is fleeting, lost in the haze of pleasure as Vi's hips buck, her cock slipping between your folds to slide against Caitlyn's. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, your vision whiting out as the dual stimulation shatters you. You fall, tumbling headfirst into bliss, into ecstasy, into a place where there are no more worries, no more cares.

Caitlyn stands, holding your quivering body aloft as Vi sinks her cock in your pussy, stretching obscenely around her girth. You are stuffed so full, so deliciously stuffed, you feel like you might split in two. But you don’t. You don’t because this is what you were made for, to be their plaything, their receptacle for all things depraved and delicious.

You sink down, taking them both to the hilt in a move that has you screaming. The pleasure is incandescent, searing, so all-consuming that you don’t even feel it when Caitlyn sinks her fangs into your breast or Vi clamps down on your neck. All you know is the bliss, the perfection, of being taken so hard and so deep. Of finally, blessedly, being home.

You can only hold on, your nails scrabbling for purchase on sweat-slicked shoulders as they fuck into you. Caitlyn's angle has her rubbing that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, sending stars shooting across your vision. Vi grunts, her grip on your hips bruising as she pounds into you from behind. You are sandwiched between them, a willing prisoner to their combined machinations.

Caitlyn’s hands roam freely, tweaking your nipples hard enough to border on pain before soothing the sting with gentle caresses. Vi nips and sucks at your throat, no doubt marking you as theirs for all to see. But you don’t need to look to know they belong to you just as much as you belong to them.

The thought is a revelation, a sudden burst of clarity in the haze of fucked-out bliss. The cree is binding, unbreakable, and in this moment you know you would do anything for them.

Anything to keep them, to preserve this moment of perfect connection. It’s a thing that scares you. It's something that, in your right mind, youwould run screaming from. But this isnt that. This isn't right or wrong, good or bad. It’s just is, a simple, pure truth that settles over you like a warm blanket. You surrender to it, to them, your body going slack in their hold even as your walls ripple around their cocks.

You're nothing more than a willing vessel now, a receptacle for all their pleasure. And that, you think dazedly as you're fucked into mindless oblivion, is exactly how it should be.

Caitlyn’s hands move to your hips, holding you in place as they fuck you with increasing speed. The need to come, to let go completely, is a desperate litany on your lips. Vi's rhythm steadied, her thrusts growing harsher as she chases her own release. They work together seamlessly, as if they've done this a thousand times before. Maybe they have, with countless others who weren't you, who weren't their mate.

The sudden surge of jealousy, of possessiveness, is enough to make you see stars. You clench around them, your cunt bearing down on their cocks as you teeter on the edge. You're so fucking close, every nerve in your body drawn tight as a bowstring. Caitlyn must feel it too, because she bites down, hard enough to draw blood.

And that's it.

That's all it takes to catapult you over the edge. Your orgasm slams into you, a tidal wave of ecstasy that rips through you with the force of a hurricane. You come with a scream, your cunt clenching and spasming around Vi's and Caitlyn's cocks. A flood of liquid heat gushes from your core, soaking their dick and dripping down your thighs. It's obscene, you know, but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the pleasure is so sharp, so intense, it feels like it's splitting you apart from the inside out.

Behind you, Vi snarls, her hips slamming into yours with a force that would be bruising if you weren't so far gone. She doesn’t pull out, working you through your orgasm until you're writhing, oversensitized.

"Keep going, please keep going," you babbles, your words slurring together as they pound into you. Your overstimulated cunt spasms around them, aftershocks from your previous orgasm still rattling your frame.

But they don’t stop, if anything their thrusts grow harder, more insistent. It’s almost too much, pleasure bleeding into pain as your body is pushed to its limits. You scrap at their shoulders, your nails leaving red welts in their flesh. Caitlyn hisses, the sting only seeming to spur her on. Behind you, Vi grunts, her grip on your hips bruising as she fucks into you like a woman possessed. You're being used, claimed, fucked into oblivion, and it's perfect. It's everything you could ever want. You cum again, a high, keening wail tearing from your throat as your vision whites out.

But there's no respite to be had, not when Caitlyn and Vi are so close to their own finish. They work you mercilessly, pounding into your abused cunt with single-minded focus. You're nothing more than a toy to them, a warm hole to spill their seed in, and you've never felt so deliciously used in your life. Caitlyn groans, her thrusts growing erratic as she chases her release.

Behind you, Vi snarls, her canines finding your mating bite and biting down hard. Pain and pleasure short-circuit in your skull, the resulting burst of sensation sending you careening toward a third orgasm. You clench around them, your walls rippling along their lengths as you teeter on the brink of oblivion. Then Caitlyn’s coming, her cum flooding your channel in a scalding rush that pushes you over the edge.

You fall, your mind going blank as your body is wracked with pleasure. Your cunt spasms around Caitlyn's cock, milking her for every last drop as you squirt on their cocks for the third time. Behind you, Vi follows, her hips jerking erratically as she floods your already full channel with even more cum.

You want it, crave it, so much so that you can taste it on your tongue. The need used by them, bound to them in every way possible, is a frantic beat beneath your skin. They crush you between them, their mouths finding yours in a sloppy, three-way kiss that leaves you panting. Youcould die like this, youthink dazedly, sandwiched between these two magnificent beasts.

Vi's arms hold you aloft, your legs too weak to support your own weight after your mind-blowing orgasms. She slowly walks you towards the bed, Caitlyn's cock slipping from your pussy with a lewd squelch. Your legs hit the mattress, the sudden change in angle making you pitch forward. But Vi's hands are there to catch you, guiding you down onto all fours.

You collapse onto your elbows, your face pressed into the sheets as you tremble with exhaustion. But that exhaustion does nothing to dampen your desire, the need to feel them inside you once more an all-consuming inferno. Caitlyn scoops your hair away from your neck, her fingers tracing the ridges of your spine. Behind you, Vi hums, her palm flattening against the small of your back.

You squirmed between them, your hips wiggling back against Vi's in a clear invitation. You're so fucking sensitive, every brush of air against your swollen, well-used lips sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. But that pain-slash-pleasure only serves to heighten your arousal, your cunt clenching madly around nothing as you crave to be filled again, to be stretched and stuffed and utterly used until your pussy is molded to their cocks. You beg them to take you again, your babbling pleas falling on deaf ears. Caitlyn chuckles darkly above you, her hands sliding down your sides to grip your hips.

"So greedy for us, aren't you?" she purrs, her breath hot against your ear. Behind you, Vi growls in agreement, her fingers pricking at your skin as she squeezes the globes of your ass.

You mewl, arching into their touches like a cat in heat. Your pussy is throbbing, the emptiness a physical ache that demands to be filled. You know you shouldn't want it, shouldn't crave their cocks like you do. But you can't help it, not when they make you feel so good, so cherished. Caitlyn slides a finger between your swollen folds, the lightest of touches enough to make you gasp. You're fucking dripping, your arousal coating her digit and dripping onto the sheets below. Vi groans behind you, her hand slipping from your hip to your core, swiping through the slick mess.

"Fuck, you're so wet," she growls, her voice rough with lust. She punctuates her words with a sharp spank to your ass, the sting only serving to heighten your desire.

Vi's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as she thrusts into you. Her thrusts are messy and desperate, the force of them jostling the bed beneath you. Over your back, Caitlyn makes her own slick sounds, her fist working her dick to the tempo Vi is setting. Your head spins at the sheer depravity of it, of being used so carelessly, so thoroughly, like a common whore. And yet it's the hottest thing you've ever seen, the knowledge that your body is enough to drive them to such heights. You sob into the sheets, your face pressed into the mattress as Vi takes you harder and faster. She's fucking you like she's trying to split you in two, her grip on your hips hard enough to leave lasting bruises. Behind you, Caitlyn grunts, her hand moving faster as she watches Vi rut into your aching cunt.

You can only take it, your body rocking with every savage thrust. Your cunt is on fire, the pleasure bordering on pain as Vi ruts into you. But you love it, love the feeling of being used so roughly, so thoroughly. Caitlyn groans above you, her fist flying over her cock as she chases her pleasure. You cry, a desperate, keening sound that's muffled by the sheets. Your orgasm is barreling towards you, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. Just when you don't think you can take anymore, Caitlyn slaps your clit hard. The pain-pleasure rocket sends you screaming over the edge, your cunt clamping down on Vi's cock hard enough to make her snarl. Behind you, Vi follows, her hips jerking erratically as she floods your already cum-soaked channel with even more of her release.

Vi pulls out, her cum leaking from your well-used hole and dribbling down your thighs. You barely have a chance to miss the fullness before Caitlyn flips you over, hauling your limp body up into her arms. She sits back on her heels, settling your straddling legs on either side of her hips. Her cock slides against your folds, smearing their combined releases between you. Behind you, Vi moves to kneel on the bed, her chest pressed to your back. Her hands slide up your sides, cupping the swell of your breasts and teasing your nipples. You mewl, your hips rolling in Caitlyn's grip, chasing more of that delicious friction. But she holds you still, her grip bruising as she lines herself up with your entrance. You barely have time to brace yourself before she slides into you, impaling you on her thick cock in one brutal thrust.

Vi and Caitlyn work you between them, one thrusting into you as the other nudges her cock to your lips. Your pussy is stretched and filled to the brim, every ridge and vein of Caitlyn's cock kissing along your inner walls in a way that has you sobbing for more. It's a primal move that speaks to the most basic parts of you that crave to be owned and claimed most fundamentally. You claw at the bed, your nails biting into the sheets as you hang on for dear life. Behind you, she groans, the sound sending vibrations through his chest and straight to your core.

You gag on Vi's thick dick, spit bubbling from the corners of your mouth as she fucks into your throat. Your eyes roll back, your hands scrabbling at the sheets for purchase as they use you so thoroughly. You're just a set of fuck holes for their pleasure, a warm sleeve for them to dump their seed in. And it's perfect, so perfect, to be so utterly and completely theirs. Behind you, Caitlyn pulls nearly all the way out before slamming back in, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. The force of it rocks you forward, Vi's dick lodging itself even deeper down your throat. You gag, the muscles in your neck convulsing around her as your eyes water. They pound into you mercilessly, their rhythm ruthless as they chase their release.

The two of you exchange a long, heated look. Then, as if by silent agreement, they double their efforts. Vi's hands fist in your hair, holding you in place as she fucks into your mouth. Caitlyn's grips on your hips tighten, her nails digging into your flesh as she pounds into you from behind. The need to come, to let go completely, is a frantic rhythm in your skull. Just when you don't think you can take anymore, Vi roars above you, her dick pulsing as she reaches her peak. Thick ropes of cum paint your face, your hair, your open mouth as you struggle to swallow it all. But it's Caitlyn who steals the show, her thrusts growing erratic as she nears her own climax. You barely have time to gasp before she slams into you one final time, her dick erupting inside you.

You clench around her, your cunt milking her for every last drop of her seed as your own orgasm crashes over you. It's so intense, so all-consuming, that your vision blanks out at the edges. You fall forward, catching yourself on your elbows as you ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through you. Behind you, Caitlyn collapses against your back, her forehead pressed to your shoulder as she pants heavily. Above you, Vi grunts, slumping down to drape herself across the bed. You're sandwiched between them, a willing victim to their lusts and desires.

And in this moment, as you bask in the afterglow, you know there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Choosing the Beast: Modern Folklore Heroines Embrace the Animal Husband

“I choose the bear.” The refrain rang out across the web, with many a woman nodding in agreement or at least understanding, and certain men huffing with indignant outrage. Just a meme, really, but did it speak to a deeper truth? Is it merely age-old mistrust of patriarchy talking, or a true desire for the beastly, the wild, the untame?

I’m no sociologist, of course, but I have noticed an emerging trend in fem-gaze media that seems to reflect this view. In movies like I Am Dragon (2015) and recent shows like My Lady Jane and The Acolyte, the heroine chooses the beast, loving her animal husband in his wild form rather than requiring him to transform back into a mundane man to earn her affection. This is such a departure from the typical folktale pattern that it’s difficult to even find an historic example where this occurs.

Commonly thought to reveal the desire to tame a dangerous mate in a patriarchal society, most animal husband tales (ATU 425a) feature a hero who ultimately transforms permanently into a human. This is viewed not only as freeing him from the maddening effect of his wild form, but also saving his bride from committing the sin of bestiality. In these tales, the animal mate’s transformation is necessary for the salvation of both.

Is the modern heroine then damned by choosing her husband’s beastly form? Or does she actually free them both from the yoke of patriarchal expectations?

Bathing: Discovering the Wild Masculine

The first motif that stands out in these modern screen examples is bathing. In animal spouse tales, there is often a dynamic of the hunter and the hunted, and thus a moment when the hunter comes upon their would-be lover unawares. Perhaps they find the animal spouse sleeping, or they cast a light on them unexpectedly, see them without their animal skin or disguise, and so on. And of course, they often come upon the lover at their bath.

There is an implied eroticism in this discovery, finding one’s quarry not only undressed, but also in the most private of activities. Water of course symbolizes fertility, but bathing is also purifying, symbolically washing away all that might make a mate undesirable. And this, perhaps, is the reason that historically this motif is used almost exclusively for animal brides, not animal husbands.

For the animal husband, he either actively chooses to reveal himself to the bride (perhaps on their wedding night), or she violently strips away his disguise, often armed with “flame and steel” like Psyche and her many avatars. Animal brides on the other hand are nearly always discovered at a body of water, bathing. The hunter will then capture her either by stealing her animal skin or cloak, or by placing his own clothing on her. What does it mean, then, when it is the husband who is discovered bathing in a body of water, held as an erotic object in the feminine gaze?

In The Acolyte, Osha follows Qimir to a pool where he slowly undresses, in full knowledge that she is watching. On the shore, she steals his lightsaber, just like the hunter who steals the animal skin, symbolically claiming him. When he emerges, Qimir dons new clothes, as if acknowledging that he is a different person than before he entered the water, almost purified in a way. Osha is forced to confront that there is more to the murderer in the mask than she realized.

Similarly, in My Lady Jane, our heroine goes looking for Guildford just before sunrise on their ill-fated wedding night, only to discover him bathing in the stables. The scene is gratuitously filmed from Jane’s (very horny) perspective, flipping the script on the countless scenes in screen history shot with the masculine gaze. Immediately after she discovers and confronts him, Guildford transforms against his will into a horse, and Jane realizes that he is an Ethian, a creature she has been taught is demonic and unnatural.

And in I Am Dragon, Mira makes several discoveries in quick succession: first, she deduces that Arman is actually the dragon. In the next moment, she slips from the island’s peak and falls, saved only when Arman transforms at the last moment and breaks her fall with his dragon form. The water begins to wash over his unconscious body, and at first Mira thinks that she will allow him to drown. But the sight of Arman in his human form after he rescued her, worried over by his animal familiar, stirs her to pity and she wraps him in a sail and drags him to safety. In this way, she clothes him, claiming him as her own.

Each of these heroines discovered a new aspect of her husband at the bath, finding him unexpectedly alluring, and ultimately choosing to begrudgingly claim him. Each animal husband tried to wash away his beastly form, to separate himself from the wild masculine. These men feel a sense of disassociation from a part of themselves, but now that their brides have discovered it, there will be no more hiding. Further, the bride now holds the power in the relationship, evidenced by how her husband needs her: Qimir needs Osha to be his apprentice, Guildford needs Jane to help him “break the curse,” and Arman needs Mira to heal him from his wounds.

Playing House: The Half-Husband

The second feature of these stories is a period of domesticity for the couple. For a brief time after the husband’s beastly nature is revealed, the lovers “play house” like children. While sexual tension is present, they typically do not consummate their union during this time, but instead cook, eat, rest, and care for one another. What’s more, they ignore or even attempt to actively destroy the husband’s animal form. They deny that this is part of him and therefore part of their relationship.

In I Am Dragon, Mira heals Arman, and wakes the next morning to find he has left food for her (dragonfruit, appropriately). Together they begin building a home out of shipwreck debris they find scattered around the island. A cheery montage shows them decorating a living space, choosing clothes, playing music, and dancing. But the specter of Arman’s monstrous form lurks on the edge of their idyllic life. Mira has nightmares, and tells Arman how much she fears “the dragon,” notably not referring to them as the same person. And eventually, it emerges that Mira has been planning to escape, rejecting Arman’s dragon form entirely.

After he sheds the helmet and robes of The Stranger, Qimir turns his attention to caring for Osha: he heals her, lets her sleep in his bed, provides clothes, and cooks for her. In turn, after some lightsaber-wielding, Osha becomes more comfortable in his home and accepts the food he offers, eventually even trying on his helmet. Later, they bicker amiably on their way to Brendok, like an old married couple on a road trip. When not facing down Jedi, Qimir leaves his menacing persona behind and transforms into an empathetic, protective, and alluring partner.

Jane Grey, meanwhile, finds herself using her honeymoon sequestered away in a private cottage to try to cure Guildford of his Ethianism. With her knowledge of medicine, she concocts various potions and magical cures, but none of them succeed. Guildford often checks in on her after these disappointments, making sure she’s getting enough sleep and taking care of herself. It’s also clear that they’ve been regularly dining together when Jane suddenly dashes off to rescue her friend. Guildford follows her and the two protect one another, followed by an almost-tryst. Even when they move into the palace, their day-to-day (or rather night-to-night) life is one of comfortable domesticity, although they continue to deny Guildford’s horse form.

In each of these cases (although less so in The Acolyte without Season 2 to continue the story), playing house can only last for so long while the husband’s animal nature is denied. There is a part of him that is suppressed, rejected, and this leads to him being incomplete, a half-husband. Each hero is unable or unwilling to accept and celebrate his whole self with his bride. Eventually, it is that denial that leads to a rift between the couple, which can only be healed not with the transformation of the husband, but with the embrace of his animal form.

Enforcing Patriarchy: The Rival

Each of these relationships exists in direct opposition to the dominant culture in the story: Arman as the Dragon is the literal enemy of Mira’s people, Qimir as Sith is the enemy of Osha’s Jedi masters, and in My Lady Jane, intermarriage between humans and Ethians is punishable by death. By choosing to stay with their animal husbands, even for a brief time, our heroines are openly defying the patriarchal norms of their societies. But no oppressive society is about to take that transgression lying down. In each story, a rival emerges to enforce the patriarchal order, kill the beastly husband, and retrieve the bride.

In I Am Dragon, Mira’s betrothed and descendent of the dragon-slayer, Igor, journeys to rescue her from the dragon. Over the course of the story, it becomes clear that Igor cares nothing for Mira herself, and merely feels entitled to her as his bride. Dragon-slaying is his heritage, so he must find her, kill the dragon, and take his place as the hero of his people. Even the marriage ceremony illustrates his ownership of her: he takes hold of a rope tied to her boat and reels her in, thus binding her to the patriarchal order. Contrast that to Arman, who offers her the power of flight, a symbol for freedom.

In Osha’s case, Qimir’s rival for her loyalty is clearly Master Sol, who wants to keep his former pupil dependent on him and the Jedi. Sol takes patronizing fatherliness to an extreme, constantly rescuing Osha rather than letting her stand for herself, teaching her to deny her feelings and instincts, and lying to her to “protect” her. The Jedi refuse to allow that there might be any other way to access the Force than their own, thus invading the home of the Brendok witches and ultimately orphaning the twins. Sol continues to press this dominance to the end, challenging Qimir and insisting to Osha that his own lies were justified.

In My Lady Jane, there are two rivals, both women. Lady Frances attempts throughout the show to dominate her daughters and crush their wills, forcing them into unwanted marriages, applying political pressure, and even counseling Jane to abandon Guildford to save herself. The other rival is Mary Tudor, who is determined not only to emulate her father’s violent, oppressive, and misogynistic reign, but to crush anyone she considers “unnatural” or who poses a threat to her rule. These characters stand as clear examples of how women can enforce patriarchy, too.

In each story, there is a moment when the rival briefly recaptures or “rescues” the bride from her beastly husband, bringing her to a moment of decision: will she stay within the bounds of patriarchy like a good little girl? Or will she make an act of defiance to choose her own path?

Marriage: Choosing the Beast

The bride’s choice will ultimately decide not only her fate, but that of her mate as well. As an independent character, the wild masculine is deeply wounded, separated from himself and thus from his bride. He longs to transform not into a greater, more whole person, but into a lesser, half-person. Alone, without the embrace of his anima, he cannot see the value of his beastly form. Instead of healing, he faces annihilation.

As a part of the bride’s psyche, the beastly husband represents her innermost desires, the truth of her heart, and a spirit freed from the expectations of her society. He is her animus, her missing wild masculine. If she transforms him into a man, then she will tame his wild nature, bringing him to heel under the boot of the patriarchy. Choosing the human form and rejecting the beast means rejecting her own psychological needs. It would be just another form of psychic dismemberment.

Fortunately and unusually, each of these modern brides chooses her beastly husband without demanding he transform. When Osha finally agrees to become Qimir’s apprentice, she takes his hand under the willow tree, clasping the newly-bled lightsaber between them. A few scenes later, this wedding imagery is repeated when they hold hands over the saber again, this time looking into a sunrise/set. Notably, at the moment they “marry” under the willow tree, Qimir is wearing his beastly helmet with rows of menacing, wolfish teeth. He has not come to the light side or shed his Dark Side persona, but Osha has embraced him anyway without fear. And while they might not both be healed (yet), they are more whole together than they were apart.

When her efforts to cure Guildford of his Ethianism repeatedly fail, Jane begins to suspect that his “condition” cannot be cured at all. But listening to her Ethian friends Susanna and Archer finally convinces her that the truth is Guildford doesn’t NEED to be healed - being an Ethian is who he is, and it’s nothing to fear. Unfortunately, Guildford still associates his beastly form with his mother’s death, so he is unable to accept it as Jane encourages, and flees. After a near-death experience, he uses his equine speed to return to the castle just as Jane is deposed and captured. As our heroes battle toward the end, Guildford comes to learn that there are many other proud Ethians, and that his family loves and accepts him in any form.

Still, he’s unable to transform at will, and when Mary captures him and sentences both husband and wife to death, it seems their story may end in tragedy. But as Guildford has been struggling to accept himself, Jane too has been battling with her own conscience. Does she renounce Guildford to save herself? Use her wits to kill the guard and escape? Bend to her mother’s manipulation? Jane confronts each temptation, and ultimately chooses to face death rather than betray Guildford or herself. But when her Ethian friends (the wild instinct) appear to disrupt the execution, our heroine seizes the opportunity to rescue Guildford. Unable to free him from the burning pyre, she confesses her love for him, and they kiss amid the flames.

Fire is often a herald of transformation, burning away illusions to reveal the truth. And when Jane and Guildford exchange their vows in this symbolic marriage ceremony, Guildford’s fears and illusions are finally burned away. Now that his bride has accepted his beastly form, he can accept it too, and so he at last transforms at will into a horse so that they can escape. Their story ends with them married and whole before the sunrise.

Among our modern heroines, Mira is the boldest in her embrace of the beastly husband. Offered yet again as a bride to Igor, she realizes that this is not what she wants, and casts off the tether from her boat. She declares “I love the Dragon!” using the name of her husband’s animal form rather than his human name. Then, she sings the song that will call the dragon to her, and he appears to carry her away again.

But their story is not over yet! Earlier in the story, Arman told Mira of how he loses control when in dragon form, and that dragons are compelled to reproduce by burning maidens to death and retrieving their offspring from the ashes. Returning to the island with her a second time, the dragon drops her on the altar and prepares to spew fire, but Mira lunges up and kisses him. This act of love, even when he is a monster, stuns the beastly husband. Again, Mira declares her love and kneels before him, saying she does not wish to be parted. We might expect the animal husband to transform in this moment, but instead he lays his fearsome head in her lap as a lover. Their story ends with a child and a flight in the sky, silhouetted by the sun just like the other couples.

Each bride, when confronted with the option to return to the patriarchal limits of her childhood, chose instead an act of love and acceptance for her wild masculine. This embrace helped the beastly husband to accept his whole self, and he is healed without having to cut off the wild parts of himself.

What Does It Mean?

Again, this story is so rare in world folklore that it’s difficult to even find examples. On fleeting occasions that the woman chooses an untransformed beast, it is presented as a cautionary tale. These women are framed as a danger to the community for their bestial impulses and abandonment of the social order, much like witches who were said to consort with the devil. It was certainly never presented as a happy ending, insofar as we can tell from written accounts.

So what does the emergence of this tale mean for our culture? I would argue that this is just the latest step in our ongoing reckoning with historic gender roles, as well as renegotiating with other forms of systemic oppression. People of all genders are pressured to reject a part of ourselves, cutting us off from our own truth and desires that run counter to the enforced social order. We must not challenge patriarchy, must not embrace different gender expressions, must not blur established hierarchies of power, must not find joy and power in our identities, and so on.

This enforced denial does tremendous damage to everyone caught in the system, and so through story, we dream our way to escape. We dream of embracing the dark, wild parts of ourselves, of flying free on a spaceship or a dragon or enchanted horseback, and of being totally loved for who we are.

It’s clear patriarchy is still fighting back against this emancipation of the wild feminine and wild masculine, given that both The Acolyte and My Lady Jane were canceled not long after their release. In the case of The Acolyte in particular, there was a sustained campaign from its announcement to harass and silence the creators. Demoralizing as this phenomenon may be, it’s important to remember WHO ultimately owns these stories:

“Fanfiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of owned by the folk.

-Henry Jenkins, NYT 1997

Ah, an oldie-but-goodie. But Dr. Jenkins is right. Corporations may greenlight, film, release, and then cancel these stories, but ultimately they belong to the people. We take from these tales what speaks to us, leave what does not, and then retell them ourselves in fanfiction, in art inspired by the stories, and in lessons we pass on to our friends and families. If the embrace of the wild masculine speaks to you, let the story take root in your own life. Do you know someone who needs to be embraced, just as they are? Do you need to accept the parts of yourself that society tells you to hate? Do you want to be free, healed, and whole?

If so, then let these stories show you how, and tell more like them. Embrace the beast, and find your joy.

Sources:

Beauty and the Beast Tales From Around the World by Heidi Anne Heiner

In Search of the Swan Maiden: A Narrative on Folklore and Gender by Barbara Fass Leavy

And a relevant song for you, as a treat:

Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

[yanderenightmare]

Nasty alpha wolf-boy Shiggy buying virgin bunny reader at a shady auction, taking her home and breeding her silly in all her tight bunny holes<3

BNHA ! THIRST

Shigaraki Tomura x darling

WC: 2.5k

TW: NSFW, captive darling, light bondage, oral giving/receiving, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, hybrid au

Shigaraki doesn’t get along with most other organizations aside from his own, but he could hold a certain respect for this establishment. He felt appreciated here – a valued customer – one with a hungry appetite the vendor saved only the very best herbivores for.

Herbivores like you.

“She was easy to tame- submissive like she was made for it!” The Master said. “A bit too submissive for my taste- but you know what they say about bunnies- cute like a button and just as dumb!”

Your thighs rubbed themselves where you stood in the dark of your blindfold. Bleating and cowering in the chastity belt they’d fixed tight around your lower body – having you sheathed on two thick cocks stretching out both virgin holes – making you drippy – vibrating inside you with purrs tickling your core in thrums he could hear from ten meters away.

“Stuff her in the trunk and take her home if you want- she’s so soft around the edges and pumped with hormones she won’t mind the bumpy road. You could take her right here on the concrete, and all she’d do is just moan!”

He could smell it in the air – how heated you were. Sopping like a braindead whore – he bet you’d been stuck in that chastity belt for hours, as sweaty and trembling as you were. Unstable were you stood in pink pumps soaked full of the slick running down your thighs – only managing to stand thanks to the big bodyguard behind you. He was a beastly fucker, squeezing one of your tits tight in a big bear paw while fisting your leash like a noose in the other, pulling the thick black collar kept snug on your throat only to feel your plush ass rub against his crotch.

The way your arms were cruelly bent behind your back was of no help to your balance either, making your perky tits strut forward. Stiff nipples begging for a suck or a twist or a slap – sculpted a bit by an additional harness shaped like a bra with no filling – just thin black leather lines extenuating that on display.

“My hunters swear she’s a pure little thing, so normally I would demand you pay extra-”

Two black heart-shaped eyepatches had you blindfolded but were kept lenient enough to allow tears to soak through, layered damp on your cheeks and giving a pretty plump bloat to your lips – sucking on the pink ballgag stuffed in your mouth, fastened tight around your head – making all your noises come out wet and even more feeble.

“But she’s yours free of charge if the league handles some business for me~”

Your lop ears drooped sadly down your cheeks, framing your cute face like a picture where your little nose kept wrinkling in terribly adorable sniffles – squealing on what he could tell was another ride over the edge.

“Deal.” He barked shortly, a growl in his throat.

The Master grinned. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Shigaraki.” Tossing him the keys to the lock on your cunt before snapping his fingers, gesturing for the bodyguard to do the same with the leash – pushing you in a wobbling stumble over to your new owner.

And then he really felt you tremble – soft yet stiff, bracing yourself against him – the smell of utter terror and arousal so thick he found himself drooling just at a single close whiff – all the hair on his tail spiked on strict end as a hunger growled low in his gut.

He felt his pants grow taut and gave a hiss – shoving you on your stomach in a sprawl onto the backseat. Throwing your legs inside before slamming the door shut – putting his fingers to his lips – your slick wet on them, glossy and sweet in his nose like a perfume as he licked them clean while getting in the car.

“Drive.” He muttered in another curt growl, signaling the man to his side to turn the keys as he pawed the straining tent bumping his boxers with yet another hiss.

Huffing, he closed his eyes, listening to you nom on your gag with wet cries and moans – his chest tight and brows furrowed – cursing having said yes to clean up another organization’s mess, and even more frustrated with your scent hanging heavy in the air, making everything spin for him – until finally reaching the base.

“Get out, Binky- welcome to your new home.”

He tugged your collar again soon after the car stopped, and out you shuffled – sweaty and shivering on legs that could barely hold their own weight – supported by the hand he had raked in your hair, pulling and dragging your body out into the cold.

Letting go once you were out of the backseat, he started fisting the leash instead, yanking you forward with heels clicking in no steady rhythm – wonky on the ground where you struggled to keep up with him. Slick between your thighs, rubbing together as you walked.

You were still blindfolded – floppy ears shifty at the sounds of doors opening and slamming shut, along with the threatening cheers of the crowd of villains drinking in the rooms the two of you passed. It’s as though he can hear you praying, hoping that he’s not planning on sharing you with the rest of the fray the way you flinch at the whistles and filthy comments being thrown your way.

You sped up until your tits bumped into his back – walking close with your head bowed to shield yourself.

Splitting a grin, he chuckled out a low snort. He hadn’t thought you’d be so silly to seek his comfort. But dumb as it was, his cock seemed to find it unexpectedly pleasant.

Reaching his room, he fished for his key – hands unsteady, tongue gracing his fangs as he unlocked it before stepping inside. Hauling you behind him into the musty space where he at once pounced on you like a predator who’d finally lost all patience. 

Paws with claws gabbed your tit with a force that made you stumble – almost fall if he hadn’t tugged you back by your leash. His tongue ran wet over the sweet drool dripping down your neck and chin – his canines close to your neck, making you shiver and bleat for him while his hand dropped down to cup your sex. 

Stopping short at the thick feel of latex beneath his fingertips, he growled and shoved you in a toppling wobble until your back hit the soft embrace of the bed behind you. You met it with a bounce and a yelp smothered in your gag – and he followed quickly, crawling on top of you with the key in hand. Carefully caressing the lock on your belt – thinking it would be a shame to destroy it when he could make use of it later. He would need to keep you protected if the way everyone eyed you was any indication. After all, he couldn't expect a base crawling with only carnivores to resist the scent of a herbivore as sweet as you.

He turned the key in the hole and pulled the cruel construction down your thighs, and you gave a whine, hips bucking at the release, quaking at the empty feeling while he eyed the lewd mixture of slick clinging in pretty bridges between the two closing holes and the two glossy rubber cocks still wet and warm with your heat. 

“You make quite a slutty mess for a virgin.” He teased, with two of his coarse fingers dragging up your slick clit – gleeful eyes watching you squirm while releasing a strangled sound caught between a moan and a scream – riddled with overstimulation to the point you were cumming in spasms from only the single little touch.

He only chuckled at the sight. Leaving you to pant and quake beneath him – with shakey breaths anticipating the painful pleasure of his touch once again. 

“Sensitive, scared, horny- tortured by your own fickle hormones and instincts- I know what you want…” He continued, now with the words leaving hot puffs against the slick skin on your thighs. “You want this teensy little rabbit hole destroyed by the big bad wolf….”

Your whimpers were like a symphony – sweet and softly tuned to strum every string in his gut – purring and stirring something sticky and heavy and starving inside of him.

“Look at this pussy….” He groaned with a click of his tongue – his eyes set on the wet puffy little thing between your legs. “So pretty- I could bite it.”

Your back took an arch, jumping from the bed once his hot mouth hit your mound – letting out another uncontrolled moan – heart pounding so loud and savagely in your chest he could feel it pulse on his tongue inside you as he lapped at you like a parched mutt.

His claws dug with greed, plunged deep into the cake of your thighs, locking you around his jaw where he mouthed at your core with eyes rolling back. Every fiber went on a rampage within him, zipping along his limbs and gathering in his gut like one tight-clenched aching fist.

“Mh-fuck-” He took a breath, mouth gaping and dripping with spit and slick before moving upward, sucking kisses into the soft skin of your tummy and soon locking his lips around your nipple – with one hand working your free titty, the other fucked your hole with horny curiosity, delving in the slick with twists and curls and scissoring.

You whined under his touches, quaking on all counts – listening to your hole squelch while your oh-so-sensitive insides clenched down hard from the warm knot coiling in your lower belly, coming so close to that all-over-feeling yet again – shaking your head in fear of it.

“Piss yourself if it helps- I don’t mind-” He growled out low in a whisper, his fangs against your throat now, grazing playfully with rugged breaths hot against your flushed skin. “I won’t stop until I’ve broken in each hole-”

Eyes big and swiveled with tears rippling down your cheeks in rushed rivulets, all the while your pussy made out with his fingers – feeling the fat digits test the flex of your gummy walls – slippery with slick and happily fluttering from his touches. 

You soon caved for the umpteenth time – whole body strangling to suppress the sensation while unsure how much more you could take before going numb.

“Tch- there you go~ good bunny~” He praised in mockery, snickering at your panting – his breath hot on your skin where he moved to hover above your gagged lips – undoing the straps to free your mouth.

“Ah please, m-master- please- no more-” You immediately begged, mouth wet with drool.

“Mh- you’ve got manners…” He moaned, keeping his fingers in your cunt while holding you by the ear in the other hand, gripping it tight and rubbing the thin softness like a lucky charm. Tugging himself out of his pants, messy with pre, he immediately steered the fatness to your mouth. “Open up~”

You took it with a small whine, feeling it push onto your tongue and further in until it hit the back of your throat in a kiss. He gave a groan, feeling your bloated lips wrap around the shaft as you glucked on his length in soft mewls – eyes panning from the view to watch your little titties bounce at the movement, doing small jumps for him as he rammed your sweet face.

He removed your eyepatches – wanting to see your pretty eyes glossy and big for him as you sucked his cock.

The look on your face made his gut rumble – so sweet-looking with your cinched brows and button-nose – eyeing him with cute anxiety, no doubt taking in the scary sight of his red eyes and his pale skin littered with scars.

You coughed cutely when he withdrew, and he bent over to kiss you again, spit stringing between your tongues as his fingers went back to your clitty – rubbing crass circles into it that had you squealing into his mouth.

“Please, master-” You cried, wringing your thighs shut tight around his hand – tears springing from the pity puddles of your eyes as you looked at him with such plead it made his gut roar.

He could only offer a gleeful giggle, spreading your thighs by pulling you snugly around his waist – his cock jumping eagerly above your navel as he bore over you – his breath hot on your face. “Don’t worry, baby bunny, I’ll stuff you up good. Breed you full of a warm creampie in your tight little cunt.” He cooed, fangs sharp and glistening – his paw flat on your belly, rubbing the flesh with want. “Right here~ warm and thick in your little womb~”

You shuddered at the threat, then whined an open-mouthed moan as he sleaved himself inside you. Feeling his every fat vein rub along your walls until his plush head nudged tight against your cervix – making you mewl with an arch in your back, clenching hard around the size of him. Shaking from the toll of it.

He groaned, starting to pound you already – fast and deep, just like a hound rutting. “I’m gonna give you my knot, Bunbun-” He drooled, sucking your cheek with tongue and teeth – red eyes set on your plump and pouty lips – gaping open and begging for more while he continued raving. “Gonna knot you up so tight- make this virgin pussy tremble for me-”

You could only pant, getting run through at such a pace your next orgasm was fucked right out of you. Sweat pilled on your forehead and nose, thighs trembling as you came on his thickness in hot, heaving moans. Throttling his cock for cum – which he soon spilled deep inside you just like he promised – painting your insides with it with balls clenching up, resting snugly against the slick that spilled out.

He was messy when he pulled out again. Glossy and still raging fat as he rolled you over on your stomach – pulling your ass up by your hips while you remained breathless with exhaustion, smudged against the pillowy sheets beneath you.

He laid his meat between your asscheeks, eyes lazily looking over your dewy face and how pretty you looked fucked out on his bed.

“This bunny-hole’s never felt cock either, huh?” He said, voice breathy but eager still – planting his tip at the opening of the taut little entrance before beginning to push.

You moaned out again but could only ball your fists for purchase, still kept in a lock behind your back – tightening them until your knuckles whitened while he crammed himself inside you one stout inch at a time.

“Mmh- fuck, so tight~ it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good hugging me nice and snug~” He almost whined, getting swallowed down until his pelvis met your ass and the ball of fluff found there – doing a little dance just for him. “Fuck- look at you, little cottontail~” He groaned, leaving himself sunk down to the hilt inside you for a moment of appreciation before beginning to drag out to pound your stomach into a nice mess. “So perfect, I outta take a picture~”

tip-jar: Kofi

[fanaticsnail]

Mistress snail I had a dream and I fear I can’t let it go

In theory, a devil fruit could do anything, right? The dream was that maybe Katakuri (or King) accidentally got affected by a devil fruit that could shrink things- and I think you know where I’m going with this

Like obviously at first he’s annoyed and confused- he’s gone from over 15+ ft to let’s say 8/9 but then it dawn on him that he can finally feel his darling in the most intimate way without stressing about killing them. I imagine he’d RUN home and just would not be able to leave them alone until the effects wore off

OKAY BUT THIS IS AN AWESOME CONCEPT!! I have been thinking about someone with either the ability to shrink others or grow themselves. Could you imagine if you had a devil fruit that could enlarge yourself to a gargantuan size, and Big Mom clocks it immediately.

Size

Masterlist Here

Word count: mini-fic

"Finally! A worthy partner for my children! Time to set a trap, bring them home, and have them produce all of the heirs for each of them. An army. Finally, an army." And you are forced to run while you're being tracked by Big Mom and her legion of hunters.

But what if Katakuri is sent after you to bring you in, and you're running from him as fast as you can? He can see the future, he knows where you're going and what you're doing. He knows you can take him in a fight, and he'll likely be rendered defeated in any circumstances...

...So he runs to you to help you get away.

He wants you to have a free life. He doesn't want this life for you, the life of rearing offspring of monsters with him or others as your mate and spouse. He would rather help you escape than bring you home to meet his mother.

And when he does catch up, all you're met with is calming sweetness. Laying down arms, kneeling beneath you, lowering his head and exposing his neck to you, for you to do as you will. You're taken aback and test his submission by placing a blade to the back of his neck. He's not worried, he's seen the future, he knows it's just a test of his humility.

"Let me help you run from beyond where my sister's sight can reach," he'd say with all honesty and submission, "You deserve a life worth living away from Cake Island. Let me help you."

And you accept, and he does.

But what if he gets injured protecting you? Are you going to stay and care for the man who you owe your freedom to, or are you going to take this opportunity to run?

Of course not. You'll stay and help your saviour in leather armor. You'll patch him up, soothe his skin, cleanse him of all ailments. And when your eyes meet with his ruby orbs, your breath hitches as his shroud is partially exposing his teeth.

A monster, large teeth in a mouth split up his cheeks. A monster with the heart of an angel, the skills of a knight, and those beastly eyes that will haunt your dreams with the expression of gratitude and, almost, love? Love in those ruby orbs, reflecting your own expression of love within.

You finally make it to the mirrors' edge. Brulee can't see you here, and Big Mom is livid about it. Katakuri will take any punishment from his mother, so long as you're happy and free to live a life that belongs to you. As he presents his arm out to you, gesturing for you to flee on a ship to the east, you shake your head at him.

Lowering your gaze and bowing your head, you placed your hand over your heart and grew yourself to a humble twenty feet tall, far taller than Katakuri. Looking up at you, his lips part in surprise and cheeks dusted with the glow of a pink flush. Stepping sheepishly closer, you take his extended hand and lace your fingers with his own.

"Thank you, Lord Charlotte," would exit your lips, looming over him with your great height, "I will not forget your kindness."

"Nor I will forget you. -I-I mean, the kindness of your own," he would stumble, truly at a loss for words by feeling dwarfed by you.

Leaning down, you'd press a sweet kiss to the top of his head. A kiss that is sweeter than any dessert he'd ever consumed. A kiss that would haunt him on his journey back to Cake Island alone. A kiss that he so wished to reciprocate before you fled from his grasp and hid yourself beyond Brulee's reach.

But you were gone. You were finally free to live a life that was truly yours. A life free from his mother, and belonging to you completely. He was thankful for that, and should you truly desire to see him again, he would welcome it fully.

The only place he would ever see you is when you visit him in his dreams, replaying that final moment in his mind's eye each night he slumbered.

Just my thoughts on the matter.

[icyowl]

The Eyes Tell Many Stories

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Synopsis: Six eyes wouldn't be what it is without you / Six eyes hasn't always been a blessing. The many times you helped Gojo master his eyes. 5k.

A/N: There might be some canon discrepencies, and that's okay. I have a thing for Gojo's eyes.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

FOUR

You were the one who found him missing from a clan dinner at the age of four. The adults were busy drinking ancient and expensive alcohol, but who didn't care when a four-year-old wandered off? He was at the pond, head down and back to you, watching the koi dance and shimmer in the setting sun. Thoughts of sneaking up on him or pushing him in the water disappeared when your outstretched hand was snatched in a second's fraction and his tumultuous eyes clashed with yours, declared battle, and won the war, all in under a second.

"Satoru, stop it!" You yelled, failing to pull away from the beastly eyes and steely grip betraying the strength of a mere child. His gaze shone like the sunset hitting the water behind him. Bright and untamed. The sight had you yanking your arm until there were bruises. "Let go!"

That seemed to get through to him. He released you in favor of digging his palms into his eyes, crouching down on shaky feet.

"It hurts." He bit out from behind his arms. His mouth was contorted into a painful grimace. All you knew at the time was the desire to help someone in pain. Now you know you'd been the one to awaken the six eyes with your lame attempt to sneak up behind him, and now his life would never be the same. His eyes would have eventually stirred without you, but even now, any time you saw him get lost in the euphoria of submitting to the monster behind his eyes, guilt bit at your heart.

NINE

You were the one who took a baseball bat to the back of a bounty hunter's head who had nine-year-old Satoru's throat in his hands and was shoving his pristine hair into the mud, your screams akin to a snarred animal. The wet crunch of bone was nearly as nasty as the blood the stranger puked onto Satoru's horrified face before he collapsed, wheezing and dying. Satoru's choked screams and the fear in his wide eyes kept you both up for days. The unimaginable price (at least, to nine-year-olds) on his head and all the other shit that came with being a Gojo meant games of tag were replaced with sparring and meetings and getting his eyes to activate at will.

Migraines interrupted the various funerals he had to attend until there were no more Gojos to mourn.

It was that night, after the last funeral, when you offered to stay up and watch movies or spar and got turned down for everything, that infinity kicked in for the first time. All you were trying to do was hug him from behind -- give him the chance to know someone was still there -- but when you looked down between your shirt and his and saw a gap that wouldn't close in spite of your efforts.

"Sa-"

"Just leave!" And, as if the air could follow the command, a sudden force pushed you across the room and into the wall with enough strength to split the wood at your back and make plaster fall from the ceiling. Satoru's eyes widened when he saw what he'd done and rushed to pull you from the crater. A couple of stitches in the back of your head was the price to pay for awakening the rest of his technique.

ELEVEN

You were the one who disagreed when someone said Satoru's Six Eyes were getting 'better'. The migraines became so bad at one point you were left yanking some random sunglasses from a rack when his mind betrayed him in the middle of a store. Flickering lights made the other patrons glance around warily. All you focused on was the boy trying to crush his head between his hands. The groan of pain was torturous.

Your fingers skimming his temples helped distract him some, but the hug of glasses on the bridge of his nose was downright confusing. Warily he risked a peek with one eye, and now your look of concern was a little darker, a little less painful. "Is it helping?" You whispered.

Satoru chanced a look around. The gouge of pain in his head was still there -- did it ever leave? -- but the cursed energy around the room didn't assault him nearly as much as before. "How did you come up with that?"

"It's bright in here; I read that makes things worse."

He caught sight of himself in a mirror. With a squint, he scrutinzed his reflection, turning this way and that. Count on the sight of his own face to distract him from his pain. "What kind of glasses did you pick? Am I some rock band member?"

Now your head was beginning to hurt. "They were the first I grabbed, shut up."

THIRTEEN

You were the one sitting under the massive cherry tree in the Gojo estate courtyard (one of them, anyway), enjoying the gentle breeze ruffling the leaves above you, trying to ignore the turmoil happening just a few feet away. Days had gone by this way, with a scroll delicately held between your fingers, your neck sore from looking down for so long, and the various groans and grumbles of the teenager opposite you. He swiped away some sweat on his cheek.

"Does it say anything else?"

You squinted. "I think it says to focus your cursed energy into a single point, like the tip of your finger."

"What do you mean, 'you think'?"

"It's 500 years old! The inks all faded."

Satoru glared at the tip of his pointer and middle fingers. His eyes blazed. The air warbled, rippled, and sparked, but returned to normal.

He threw his hands into his hair, swore vehemently, and trudged over to the bag by your knee, "this is stupid! We're getting food," he ground out, ripping the cap off his water bottle and jamming his glasses back on his face.

"But the principal-"

"I don't care. You coming or not?"

The shoppe was busy, but Satoru's beguiling words got you a table by the window, only big enough for two though, and you hid the giggle behind your drink as he methodically folded his spindly legs under the table.

It all seemed like an okay idea at the time; the weather was nice, the crowds weren't bad, and Satoru's jaw finally relaxed after a batch of desserts was laid out in front of you both. His insistence.

"Satoru, I'm serious. You need to try harder to activate Blue-"

"Why? So the adults can start sending me after curses? No way."

"You need to be able to protect people. . ."

He was in the midst of instigating a powdered sugar fight when the warm sunlight was abruptly blocked. Three burly high schoolers scorned you both, drinks in hand and eyes pinched when they saw you sitting comfortably.

"This is our table." One bit.

"Move," added another.

Satoru, to his credit - or his ego - leisurely peaked at them over the rim of his glasses. His fork clattered against his plate. Then, he began looking around, first on the table, then under it, then at the back of his chair. When he met their eyes again, his were alight, hidden behind dark lenses but obvious from your angle. The hair on your arms rose.

"Funny," he lied, "I don't see your names anywhere."

The third guy was too oblivious to feel the sinister twist in the air. Instead he snickered and pointed. "This one's wearing sunglasses inside. Albino freak."

You put a hand up to Satoru, attempting to keep his leash tight. This wouldn't end well if he got serious in front of civilians. "We're just trying to enjoy our day, please just leave us alone-"

"Ain't talking to you, bitch!"

You yelped at the searing scorch of coffee dumped on your chest, writhing in a vain attempt to keep your hot clothing off your skin. Satoru clocked the assault, and his eyes burned hot with rage. He stood, years younger than the goons but already taller, and finally they saw the azure inferno kindling when he removed his glasses. They cowered while the air crackled.

You felt a change in the atmosphere. Your heart convulsed. Something was wrong.

"Sator-"

"Blue."

Every window exploded. The shoppe door erupted off its hinges and flew across the street. The walls split in every directions, chunks of ceiling fell to the floor, and picture frames shattered. Patrons and the tables they occupied were tossed violently. You shrunk when glass and wood pelted your skin. A cacophony of sound almost immediately gave way to complete silence. The only thing you heard was the kid Satoru had launched across the room into the opposite wall, gargling on blood. Alive, but damaged beyond recognition.

Satoru pulled you by the hand out of the rubble and onto the street. Onlookers gasped while Satoru merely grinned at them.

"They deserved it."

"No, they didn't!"

"They were weak."

"It doesn't matter!" You continued to chase the gangly silhouette. Three of your strides for every one of his. "You're strong, crazy strong, but I don't treat you any different. Am I beneath you, too?"

"I don't know, are you?"

His sentence ended with your scream. Your hand pulled from his, and when he turned, you were sitting on the rough cobblestone, cringing at the glass shards and wood splinters poking grotesquely from your palms and arms. Blood seeped from the growing wounds. A spike of wood stood up inches from its place in your thigh. Taunting him. Harming him, too, if only mentally.

"Crap," he swore, falling in front of you, "how'd you not notice this sooner?"

"A-Adrenaline, I guess." You sniffled. "You didn-n't give me much time to realize. . ." Words grew more difficult as the pain rose to a boil. His hurried inspection - turning your arms this way and that - made you whimper and flinch. Still, you managed to meet his eyes in a heavy stare; he needed to hear this. "Any of us can be more than what we were born to be. . . made to be."

He stared back, mute, for many seconds. His eyes changed shades of blue like waves in the deep ocean. Your cursed energy had always been eye-catching, but now, in the continuous onslaught of cursed energy from a city full of people (a mix of anxious, happy, depressed, infatuated, sick), it glowed soft, warm, and affectionate. It beckoned to him, begging for attention, a drug for his eyes. Looking at you, even with his level of perception, was always easy.

The rest of world had to intrude, though. A space behind his eyes grew teeth and bit at the nerve endings there. He flinched, groaned, and pinched his temples in a useless attempt to ease the pain. It did nothing. Only the graze of your knuckles on his forehead quieted the storm in his head. He watched as you diligently smoothed the lines in his brow. Satoru couldn't really see the color of your eyes anymore - one of the many 'blessings' of his technique - but nevertheless he stared at them for an unknown time, a man lost at sea using the sun for direction.

Something in his heart gave a fierce kick.

"It'll take a while for new glasses to come in." You mentioned.

He grabbed your hands and held them in his own. Azure sparks crackled between his fingers and yours. "That's what you're worried about?" He asked.

"Don't be dramatic-hey!" You exclaimed when he suddenly fell forward, head slumped on your shoulder. He was dangerously close to falling over had your hands not rushed to keep him upright.

"Sorry, just. . ." he whispered into your collar, "little tired."

"Yeah, well," you struggled to hold your phone on his back without bothering your cuts. His bulk made seeing the screen almost impossible. "Just close your eyes. I'll get us a ride."

You were the first to see Blue. In hindsight, you wished you hadn't.

SEVENTEEN

You were the one left to pick up the pieces when Geto left; it was like Gojo's own body was defending itself. Even you didn't know the extent until you ran into the gym some weeks later to escape a sudden downpour and saw Satoru, back to you, forehead pressed to the wall and shoulders hunched in discomfort. Something was horribly wrong. That much became apparent when you walked right up behind him and he seemed completely unaware. It would be one of the only times he'd let anyone sneak up on him, but it hurt so damn much-

"Satoru?" You called quietly. He flinched and quivered, but didn't turn.

"I can't get it to turn off, I can't, I. . ." he choked out between gasps. Overhead lights flickered and arcs of blue, red, and purple light traveled around him. The air buzzed, a warning of impending danger. Like the pause right before a lightning strike.

You pushed through the chill that had broken out over your skin. "It's alright, I'm here-"

"You need to go," he rushed, "it's not-"

"I'm not leaving you," you tried to touch him only to be stopped by an invisible force, "Satoru, turn off Infinity-"

"I can't!" Lightbulbs in the ceiling burst. You could feel your hair lift with static electricity.

A foreboding weight fell over your body. Infinity pressed on you form all directions, a dominating force, threatening to throw you back at best and crush your bones at worst. "Okay! Okay, just. . . just breathe. I'm not going anywhere."

All you could see was his back. Tall, lean, towering up between you. "I should have seen it," Satoru rambled, "stopped him, I have to save the world - I can't save my friend, I'm cursed-"

"Breathe, Satoru." You said with volume. Finally, his shoulders heaved and you heard a muffled, ragged exhale. The invisible barrier between your hand and the back of his shirt shrunk. "I know you're not used to hearing it, but there's nothing you could have done, and. . . I'd never let you be cursed." Your added with a thunderstorm in your chest. Too much. You'd said too much.

The gap between your hand and his back closed entirely. Sparks of static tingled where your fingertips grazed the fabric of his shirt. He was damp with sweat.

Satoru's chilling eyes - still activated - peaked at you over his shoulder. He knew what you meant.

You pulled your hand to your chest. Eye contact was impossible. "Look, it's going slower than I thought, but I'm getting stronger. Soon I'll be able to help you more, so you won't have to do so much by yourself."

He faced you. "Don't make me laugh." He replied bitterly. Unfortunately for him, you saw right through the facade. Your other hand reached to graze over the stress line in his forehead, and his eyes fell closed involuntarily.

"When was the last time you slept?" You asked.

"Last night." He said, eyes still closed.

"More than a couple hours."

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to."

His eyes opened again. This time they were dim, calm.

"Where are your glasses?"

"Broke." Satoru had you follow his gaze to where they lay a few feet away, frame twisted beyond repair and lenses nothing but a mess of shards. You delved into your backpack and revealed a crisp roll of white wrap. He shied away when you attempted to cover his eyes with it. "What are you doing?"

"You're eyes are getting stronger. I thought something like this would happen so," you held up the roll like it was its own answer, "sealing bandages to keep your eyes from bothering you as much - see?" You proved your point when his eyes began to flicker against his will. Satoru pinched them shut, hissing. He let you bring his face down to your level, mumbling childishly while you fiddled to get the bandages under his unruly hair.

"Least I don't get tired anymore."

Yes. How could you forget Toji's attempted murder and Satoru's new 'awakening'. Just thinking of the memory burned a pit into your stomach, but you words remained casual. "Only you would learn reversed technique on the brink of death."

Satoru frowned. Your cursed energy became tainted with worry. He nestled into your shoulder, enjoying the subtle skitter of your heart in response. "Like to keep you guessing."

"It's been a while. Do you still like temple massages?" You asked, your thumb rubbing the scar on his forehead.

He sighed, putting a little more weight on you. "I won't stop you."

TWENTY

Apparently, you didn't learn your lesson the first time Satoru's technique almost killed you. Where Blue took out a building, Purple took out a whole forest. You were in the hospital for days and Satoru barely left your room to shower. His six eyes never quit assessing you, and sensed you were waking a full hour before your eyes opened. Even with all that time to prepare, he still lost his breath when your hazy gaze finally - finally - set itself on his. It felt like he was able to use both lungs again.

"S'toru?" You garbled. How was it a chore to breathe?

His hands couldn't stay away from you. Cheeks, hair, eyelids, jawline, lips, every touch feathery, nearly soothing you back to sleep. Satoru's smile was blurry, but his voice was clear. "Took you long enough."

You would have brought him closer if your arms would cooperate. "Your eyes."

"Gotta see when you're waking up. You got pretty messed up."

"No," you denied, "they're bloodshot. . . got bags." As ethereal as they were, it wasn't the activation of the six eyes itself you were concerned with. His skin was ashen. He looked. . . normal. Human.

"Barely awake two minutes and already dishing it out." He smirked. It didn't reach the rest of his sunken face. Was it possible he lost weight?

"How long. . .?"

"Have you been here? Eight days." Satoru plucked a loose strand of hair and laid it behind your ear. "You lost a lot of blood, but Shoko said nothing should be permanent. That curse user won't touch you ever again. I made sure of it."

Oh. Like he didn't have enough to do already. Satoru never had help, even in the midst of his own death after fighting Toji. Sudden thoughts of mortality, grieving, love, and the torture you experienced looking at the reserved, melancholy look in Satoru's eyes were forcing tears onto your lashes before you realized what was happening. A soggy exhale was all you could do to keep calm. Your hands struggled to lift off the bed. "C-Can I ho-old you?"

"Of course," he said, pulling your arms up until they locked behind his neck. Poor thing, your cursed energy was a mess. "You're on a lot of medication right now, just breathe." He added before he pressed a long kiss to your forehead. Then your eyelids. Then your nose.

"Don't stop." You pleaded. It wasn't enough.

His lips finally fell to yours. Again and again he delivered you from life and to a euphoric heaven.

"Never."

A steady grip on your chin forced your head up and Satoru began to lovingly reacquaint himself with your neck. There was little else you could do than clutch his shirt in your fingers until your knuckles creaked and your breath ran away. Slow kisses, gentle lavs of his tongue, and the occasional rub of his canines over your artery were an intoxicating insanity. One of your hands had to cover your mouth to prevent the whole floor from hearing you, but judging by the wet, heaving breaths Satoru was gasping into your throat, you weren't the only one losing composure.

His own hand moved to the back of your head while the other delved under your body and crushed your chest to his. The bed barely contained his height, with one foot bracing him on the floor and the other hanging off the end of the mattress. Even then his shoulders were taller than yours and broad enough to cover both sides of the bed.

Between his weight and the mattress, you thought you'd get engulfed by heat and a dazed kind of insanity quickly drowning your brain.

The pressure on your throat mounted. Satoru rushed his words like he couldn't bear to be away from your neck longer than a moment at a time. "Thought I'd never kiss this neck again, you have no idea how much I missed this."

Teeth pinched at your skin.

"S-Satoru-"

He prayed into your neck, "so damn sorry. . ."

Crackles of electricity arced between him, you, and the bed, the very air growing excited, too. First blue, then red, and finally purple. The flourescent light bars swayed and jostled in an invisible torrent and the various machines flickered until they died or were simply forced away from the bed, skidding on their wheels.

His bites became more aggressive. Before, you worried about bruising, and now you felt like blood would stream down your skin and stain sheets. The softness of his hair tickling your chin was a stark contrast to the sharp points digging into your neck.

"Satoru. . . you. . . calm down," you barely managed with the static in your head. At this point, you were beginning not to care what he did as long as it meant he didn't let go. Public safety be damned.

A knee knocked its way between your legs. You yelped, and the sound of pain helped finally knock some sense into him. The EKG screen returned to normal, albeit with a few busted pixels, and read a heartrate close to exploding.

Satoru didn't look much better, though. When he could finally separate from you, finally lay you back on the bed so he could sit up himself, his eyes were pulsating and he sluggishly wiped a smear of spit from his mouth with the back of his sleeve. When his eyes saw the mark he'd left behind, they drooped, satisfied and quelled, if temporarily.

He was still out of breath when he found some words to string together, "I got a little. . . carried away."

TWENTY-TWO

You were dying. The curses foot-long claws in your stomach told you as much. Was the cold in your body from the loss of blood or from the nighttime rain soaking you to the bone? Now you couldn't be sure.

The darkness made the blue so much brighter.

Satoru appeared out of nowhere, cerulean electricity dancing on his clothes. Later, he'd tell you he somehow felt a change in the air even from a hundred miles away, and teleported without knowing he could.

His eyes blazed unnaturally bright - even for him - when he saw the curse's claws slowly pulling out of your body. The air turned purple, lightning in the clouds overhead brightened the forest for a moment, wind tossing your hair with a wild gust.

The next second, Satoru was beside you, and the curse's neck was in his hand. His grin was strange, but his laugh scared you the most. Usually he could never stop talking, but right now you'd prefer anything over the wheezy, broken cackle he couldn't help but release.

He squeezed his fingers just to enjoy the strangled garbles from the monster. "You? You thought you could hurt her?" Satoru rambled amidst his chuckles. Then he and the curse disappeared.

Next, the curse still in hand, he reappeared a ways away, several feet in the air, and let the curse fall to the earth. Satoru teleported under it, letting its back fall into his fist where he catapulted it back up. Again he moved in an instant, above it now, and kicked it back to the ground hard enough to open up a crater and blow you back to the treeline with the shockwave. The indomitable force of cursed energy crushing you to the ground made it impossible to get us or run away.

Satoru stepped in the crater with the grace of a dancer. "You know what? Do it."

The monster screamed when he held it up by its jaw and squeezed until the bone crumpled and gushed blood all over him. He dropped it freely, allowing it the chance to run. The curse scrambled for footing, made it out of the crater, and galloped towards you before Satoru teleported next to it and stopped it with one long leg pinning it down.

He kicked the thing several yards until it stilled a few feet away from you, gasping and writhing.

Satoru stalked towards you both. Each long stride was slow, meandering, barely disturbing the wet grass beneath his shoes. His head was down, and his hair covered his eyes. All you heard was a dark tone come from the shadow. "Try to kill her again. Try to defeat me by going after my one weakness. I'll even give you a hand, here."

He grabbed it by the scruff and threw it over your shoes. "Everything else has been taken from me, why stop? Come on. Try harder. What, spine broken? That's a pathetic excuse. Get up."

The stranger in front of you kicked the creature. It let out a feeble whine. "Get up." He said again with another kick. And another. And another. "Get up. Getup getup getup getup getupgetupgetupgetupgetup!!"

Satoru bludgeoned the creature with his heel again and again and again. Sickening crunches and squelches had you covering your mouth to try and keep from vomiting. Each stomp of his foot distorted the creature until it was little more than a carcass.

"Satoru, stop!"

Thunder growled in the sky. An ominous pause filled the air.

His eyes peeked sideways at you, then, he cocked his head in your direction. The tiny, calculated movement had your heart hitting the ground. He had assessed you and deemed you unworthy as a threat in the same second.

"You think you can stop me?" A fierce wind lashed at you. "Tell me - tell me how you'd stop me!"

Even the shouts of Nanami and Shoko and Utahime in the distance couldn't reach him.

He was losing himself. Perhaps forever.

Rain turned sideways in the accelerating torrent. Satoru tilted his head skyward, arms out and palms up, embracing the storm. "I can see everything, hear everything, be anywhere at anytime. With my thoughts, I make the universe."

Then, his gaze fell on you.

"Watch." He snickered.

With a roar from the ground, chasms carved open the earth all around you. A patch of dirt fell from under his feet but Satoru hovered above it, completely dry despite the downpour soaking you to the bone. He giggled, carefree, maniacal, and foreign. This wasn't the person who had stolen your first kiss.

A shadow erupted from him, blocking out all surroundings - the wind and rain and cold - until it was just you and him, alone in an imaginary world. Nebulae and galaxies filled the darkness until it was bright with starlight. Sound disappeared until you could hear your own blood in your veins.

Domain expansion.

Satoru was giggling while tears fell off his cheeks. For all his eyes could see, they seemed to be looking at nothing. Your heart felt the impending demise. This was it. No way you'd survive the domain of Satoru Gojo. You tried to remember the scared little boy by the pond 18 years ago. He was much happier then.

You almost enjoyed the tears falling down your own cheeks. Perhaps it was fate that you'd end up dying at Satoru's hand after all the close calls. You only hoped he wouldn't blame himself for this later, or that someone would call for his extermination.

With one remaining moment, you did the only thing you could think of.

"I love you." You said, and you closed your eyes.

The chaotic buzz in your body stopped. The fear quieted. You felt a gentle breeze, and the soft rustle of tree leaves came back.

A raindrop fell on your cheek.

You opened your eyes, seeing the normal world around you in a wave of relief, but feeling fear all over again when you saw Satoru, his hands holding his head, shouting at the power warring within his mind.

"Make it stop!" He yelled.

"It's okay, Satoru," you gasped, holding your stomach and swallowing the grunt of pain, "just breathe, it'll pass."

Your body gave out. Without a choice you fell back into the grass. The dark, rolling clouds flickered with occasional lightning. You don't know how long you watched, but it was beautiful.

Satoru crouched over you, eyes downcast but still bright with his technique. A reptilian fear response kicked in a rush of adrenaline allowed you to scramble back. His hand hovered, outstretched, reaching for you. Satoru's eyes showed shock and hurt.

"You're afraid of me." He called across the vast space between you.

"I'm - I'm sorry." You said. You tried to crawl back to him but the injuries finally became too much and you collapsed just as he ran to close the gap, pulling you into his lap and trying to staunch the hole in your belly. You moaned at the pressure.

"F-Fuck, I can't remember, what'd I do-"

Your voice was quiet. He hardly heard you over the pounding storm. "You saved me. I'm fi-ine."

"No you're not. Your cursed energy's all over the place, damn it." Satoru smushed his forehead to yours, taking a massive inhale. "Don't you leave me, too."

"Hey," you called, raising a thumb to massage the worry line between his brows, "remember when I said I'd try to - heh - get better? So you wouldn't. . . have to worry."

"Yeah?"

"Well. . ." you added, putting your hand over your stomach. Slowly, a faint white orb covered your wound, and Satoru watched your cursed energy glow and the injury begin to gradually sew itself shut. "You're not the only strong one."

He watched in awe, a little smile on his lips. This time a familiar, genuine one. He held you softly in his gaze in a way that warmed you without touch. You nestled against his shoulder and prepared for the long recovery and the impending clinginess of the man holding you. Satoru's eyes always gave him away.

[mmmairon]

A teaser for @dilucsbeloved’s birthday gift illustration

(๑´• .̫ •ू`๑)♡ AWEALUC FOREVER ! <3

CW mild description of gore

wc: 1.6k

Been thinking about Bloodborne Diluc AU again. You know the drill. Hunter vampluc repulsed by his Vileblood lineage. And you, more than willing to offer your blood.

But he would never put you through that—not for a monster like him. Not from something as sweet as you.

But one night, when the hunt is especially wretched and the moon bleeds red, Diluc finds himself leaning against your door, blood seeping through the fingers pressed to his abdomen.

He has two options. Go through the agony of slowly bleeding out and, hopefully, be reborn through the dream while risking the beasts finding you without his protection...or, bang on your door and beg for a favour he knows he will forever regret asking of you.

There is little time. He can already hear the clacking of claws on the cobblestone bridge.

Against his better judgement, he raps on your door, making a mess of your threshold in the process. The beasts are bound to follow his bloodied scent. Surely that would be a quicker end, at this point. He almost hopes you won't answer.

But you do, and, gods, you are a finer sight than he even remembers. He gazes at you as you take in his heaving and bloodied form using the door frame as support. His mouth parts to say something, but a ghostly howl rings out and he whips his head to look behind him.

Too close for comfort.

He thinks you hoarsely breathe his name—shock and horror in your voice. He wonders, as he looks back at your wide eyes and parted mouth if it's the beast roaming around the corner, or the beast at your door that frightens you.

But your safety will always be his first priority. He ushers you back through the door, grunting at the burning pain that strikes through his wounds from the movement.

And just like that, he is a vampire freely inviting himself into your home, locking the door behind him. He swears that if the sight of him scares you, he will gladly see himself out and use the last of his life essence slaying the beast that dares wander to your door.

But you don't cower from him. Instead, when he looks back down at you, you're cradling his face, desperately wiping the blood from him, eyes beading with tears. He grasps the mantelpiece, steadying his weakening legs.

"Diluc, you're hurt," you cry, trembling hands slipping from his face to hover over the bloody mess of his abdomen. Too much blood. Is that all his? Gods, it looks deep—and is that a rib peeking out?

His large, gloved hands swiftly grab your own, steadying them. "Don't look," he murmurs, voice hoarse and pained. "I need—," he stops himself and takes a few halting breaths, unable to meet your eyes.

"You need my blood," you say for him, and Diluc closes his eyes. A low guttural noise comes from his throat and he seems to lean away from you.

"Please, Diluc, please take it," you say as you slip your hands from his to pull down the collar of your dress. Your hands fumble with the buttons and you bare your neck to the side.

“Here. Take as much as you need.” You hold your collar unfastened. When he opens his eyes again, they’re half lidded. Tired, hungry, and something more…

You pull him in toward you, placing a hand behind his head to have him rest it in the crook of your neck.

"Awea," he moans lowly and guttural. His voice against your skin sends shivers down your spine. To offer one's blood to a hunter is an intimate enough act. But to willingly offer one's blood to a Vileblood?

That is binding. More than anything.

You’ve tried to have him drink from you before, but ever the gentleman, he’s always adamantly refused. He’d say something about being scared to hurt you, or that he doesn’t need to drink—that the hunt sates his hunger. But you both know that’s not true. He wants to drink from you. Gods, does he ever. But to pierce his beastly fangs into something as delicate and pure and innocent as you? He would sooner sell himself out to the Executioners.

“You’re dying—please, plea-,” you nearly sob out, pulling at his shoulder.

He knows he’s torturing you both. Why bother knock on your door if he can’t overcome his guilt in his dying minutes? He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to your collarbone.

“Not here,” he whispers. “Let me have you somewhere I can be gentle with you.”

If he weren’t actively bleeding out, you would have paid more attention to the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach from his words.

That’s all the confirmation you need to usher him to the stairs, your chambers on the second floor. He grasps the railing and his other arm wraps around his abdomen. You hold his elbow, going at his own pace as you sniffle.

It’s hard to see him like this. Always so strong and composed, he seemed untouchable. Until now, that is.

He stumbles on a step, and through the crimson moonlight coloured even deeper from the stained glass windows, you see beads of sweat dripping down his temple. His chest labours with not enough air and his pallor is alarming. You both know his time on this plane limited. And if he is to be reborn through the dream, there is no telling how long it will take for him to return.

“No,” you protest. “Here is good enough.” You look up at him from a step below. “It will be okay. I will be okay,” you reassure, offering a half-hearted smile.

He looks down at you, quiet for a moment. You really should be scared of him. He towers over you, his form hulking and powerful even in his weakened state. And yet, even covered in blood and gored within an inch of his life, your wide doe eyes still are able to gaze up at him like that.

His eyes search yours, looking for something, and he seems to break. He takes a step towards you and he leans down. The back of his large hand gently swipes the hair from your neck, pushing it to your back, and you see his eyes track the pulse in your neck.

Your heartbeat flutters faster, like a little hummingbird trying to escape. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tickling your cheek.

His other hand comes to cradle the back of your neck in a protective gesture. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much? If I’m hurting you?” he asks in a murmur, brows furrowed in concern.

“I will,” you assure. You won’t. Because he needs this far more than he’s letting on. But you’re sure he will stop himself on his own accord if he notices anything. He’s always been so perceptive.

He looks imploringly down at you and it’s almost enough for you to look away. But you don’t. He looks ethereal. His red hair illuminated by the bleeding moonlight, he bends down. With one hand at your lower back and the other cradling your head, you let your body go lax and open your neck to him.

He licks the tender area between your collarbone and neck, making for an easier puncture. After a moment, his fangs graze your skin and you shudder, gripping onto him. He pauses and tenderly kisses the spot. “I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs into your neck. His thumb rubs reassuringly on your lower back, and then he bites.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a gasp and you cling to him through the burning sting. He clutches you closer, pressing you tight to him and starts to suck.

You are like honey on his tongue. The putrid beasts will never compare ever again. Every suck he takes of your life force binds you two closer, like loose stitching being tightened in cloth.

His saliva bleeds into your puncture wound and everything starts to grow a little hazy—a little too bright and blurred. Your head lolls to the side, supported by his palm, and you get a view of Yharnam outside. The chaos; the moon weeping red; the burning pyres of beasts tied upside down; the madness—not even that could take you away from this feeling, like you could just float away in his arms. The pressure at your neck only grows stronger as his strength returns.

Just as your toes start to curl in your boots and your nails dig into his back, he relents. He pulls off and you gasp, chest heaving. He peers down at you, your blood smeared on his lips.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and his eyes track back down to a droplet of blood pearling at your neck. He stoops back down to lap at the blood. You’re thankful he hasn’t stopped clutching you to him. Your legs feel no better than a newborn fawn’s.

“Mhm,” you manage to breathe out, not trusting your voice wholly. “Are you?” you ask back, voice shaky. You palm his chest where you know his heart would beat if he had one and you look down to see his abdomen meshing into tender, pink scars.

“I am,” he responds, and his voice sounds so much stronger and sure that you believe him.

Your eyes overflow with tears of relief. They collect on your dark lashes and then fall. Despite this, you smile, the line of your lips wobbly. Diluc thinks you're the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “I’m glad,” you sniffle, bringing a finger to stroke along the side of his jaw.

By Yharnam herself, Diluc thinks he’s in love with you.

[fishermcn]

@goesblind from here.

Godsdamn, but somehow the old man (Gascoigne, right, knew that name he did--) seemed even bigger now that Soot had gotten his attention... or whatever amounted to it, given the bandages wrapped tight around where eyes ought to have been peering down at him from. Makes his already off heart skip another beat, it does, before he catches himself and grits his teeth. Another question (where th'bloody hell ya eyes at mate?) thankfully stays locked up tight behind his teeth, strangled by the common sense that was woken up too little too late to prevent that first question. No sense in tipping the pot over after already stirring it up after all, considering Soot could all but feel more than one pair of eyes on his back from striking up a conversation in the first place.

"Don't know nothin', old man. Wouldn't ask if I did." There's a faint twinge in Soot's neck from craning his head up, up, up to look Gascoigne dead in his own face. From beneath the cloth mask, he rattles out a cough and shifts his weight onto one leg to scratch the other with the toe of his well-worn boot. "Heard ya name. Title. See an axe, a pistol. Ain't none o'that tell me shit, though. Not unless we find trouble and I see somethin' outta ya."

Fat chance of that, given how long they've been out here already without so much as a howl or snarl for all their poking around these parts. Soot doesn't think telling him that is going to wrap this little adventure up any sooner, though. settling instead for letting out a cough or two before clearing his throat with a rasp.

"Suppose I'm a hunter, yeah. Out here ain't I?" For his part, Soot hoists the riflespear up until the trick weapon's slung across his spindly shoulders, soot stained hands settling over it almost nonchalantly. "An' this thing's done right by me so far. Powderkegs knew a thing or two, they did. Reckon ya did one a good turn t'get that pistol." Despite himself, a note of admiration slips out as Soot admires the firearm. "Good work, that. Need me one o'them."

[demilypyro]

Intrepid adventurer, mercenary, and general profiteer, goblin hunter Rikne Ratchet struck out on her own after the sudden collapse of the Bilgewater Cartel. Though usually working for the Horde, Rikne is willing to do any work that pays, and her only true allegiance is to goblinkind itself. By her count, any work that makes goblins richer is good work, especially if it also screws over their gnome rivals. Always carrying a rifle and accompanied by one or more robotic animals, Rikne operates anywhere the work takes her, and enjoys pitting her beastly machines against the strongest monsters nature has to offer.

[kiame-sama]

Fun fact for my TWST Monster AU;

Until the Lions have their own historian, history will always glorify the hunter.

Gnolls (Hyena people), Werewolves, Nemean Lions, Driders, Kelpies, and Harpies were the worst species about eating humans over history. Technically, Trey, Vil, and Rook should be treated with as little trust as the others treat Ruggie, Jack, and Leona regarding Humans, but it was assumed that Sunset Savana was the main location of the Human-meat black market given Sunset Savana didn't explicitly have laws against the general consumption of Humans as they were traditionally a food source long before the Kingdom itself was established. Since Leona is prince of Sunset Savana and Ruggie is a Gnoll (who were assumed to be the worst about attacking and devouring Humans in broad daylight) they are not trusted to be alone around the Human. Alternately, Jack- who is from the Shaftland- is also not trusted alone around the Human despite being considered a 'tame' species due to his affiliation with Leona and his more beastly appearance.

Falena works tirelessly to change the views others have of his Kingdom as it has been half a millennia since a Human was present in Twisted Wonderland let alone one being eaten. Leona knows he is a member of one of the last holdout species that ate Humans (as Humans were traditionally only a meal Nemean Lion royalty were technically allowed to have even in Sunset Savana), but he believes keeping this new Human safe and getting them to Sunset Savana would absolutely help change the way other Kingdoms view the Sunset Savana. Falena would be thrilled to hear a Human still lives and will be very keen to establish a positive relationship with this Human in order to aid his Kingdom. Sunset Savana is likely one of the most land and resource rich Kingdoms in Twisted Wonderland, so they can survive independently, but Falena knows there is a cruel stereotype against his people due to the poor decisions of Kings before him.

There was another group that was notorious for eating humans and that was actually a Merfolk Kingdom known as the Abyssal Sea Kingdom. That Kingdom has since been dissolved following the extinction of Humans by the other Merfolk Kingdom and Queendoms in retaliation for their crimes against Humans. Sunset Savana is what is considered an old Kingdom as they predate many of the current Kingdom and Queendoms still present in Twisted Wonderland.

Leona has zero interest in actually hurting the Human, more he wants to scare them away because he knows the way others look at him especially when the Human is involved and he doesn't want to be blamed should anything happen. He also understands that if he does actually cause harm to the Human, it will deeply impact his Kingdom. He may not be next in line for king anymore, but he sure as hell does not want his Kingdom to suffer from his actions.

It is quite possible that this little Human can help rid Twisted Wonderland of the stereotypes against Sunset Savana and other traditionally 'beastly' species like Gnolls (which are now found in every Kingdom, not just Sunset Savana) and Werewolves which are most commonly found in the Shaftland part of the world.

[zeroxxlhero]

Monster • Caitlyn Kiramman

Warnings: 18+ characters, vampire! Caitlyn, hunter! Reader, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, blood play, biting, overstimulation, bondage, mentions of werewolf! Vi, use of a strap-on, vaginal penetration, praising, slight degradation, use of ‘good girl’

Pairings: Caitlyn Kiramman x You

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

After Vi’s run-in with the hunter, Caitlyn sets out on the journey to find such woman—her intentions to feast on you and suck your blood dry for even crossing into her territory. But things don’t seem to work out that way and she finds herself at the mercy of you just as Vi once was.

The moonlight gleamed off the worn gravestones, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance with the wind. Caitlyn’s boots echoed softly against the soft earth as she paced slowly through the graveyard, her gaze fixed on the darkened path ahead. Her thoughts were tangled, the sharp edge of her focus consumed with the scent of the hunter girl—Vi’s former lover. The lingering traces of her scent had clawed at Caitlyn’s thoughts ever since Vi returned, and now, they twisted inside her chest like a knot of jealousy and rage.

Her sharp senses had picked it up, unmistakable and still hanging in the air. The hunter’s scent was everywhere—the mingling mix of wild, earthy musk, and something more intoxicating. Every time Caitlyn closed her eyes, it was there, consuming her thoughts. She couldn’t deny it any longer—the woman, the enigma, was a constant in her mind, and Caitlyn hated it. She hated the fact that she could smell her, could practically feel her presence even when she wasn’t around.

A growl rumbled deep in her chest as Caitlyn’s instincts stirred. Her blood boiled at the thought of this woman, the one who had entangled herself with Vi. Was she a threat? Was she trying to get between them? Caitlyn’s fangs slowly elongated, her eyes glowing with the first flicker of monstrous hunger. She could almost taste the power surge as her beastly instincts began to rise to the surface.

Her body moved with unnatural speed as she followed the scent, slipping into the shadows like a wraith. The graveyard seemed to stretch endlessly before her, but Caitlyn’s senses never wavered. The smell was getting stronger now, more concentrated. It wasn’t just a trace anymore. It was a trail.

The wind shifted and carried the scent to her more sharply, and in that moment, she realized she was close. Her eyes glinted with animalistic anticipation, and the predator within her stirred, pushing her forward as her body shifted—her mind now fully consumed by the need to hunt. There was no room for anything else. Just the scent. Just the urge to confront the hunter girl.

The cabin loomed in the distance, a soft yellow light glowing faintly in the window, a beacon in the thickening night. The scent was stronger now, and Caitlyn knew she had reached her destination. It was here, in this isolated place, where she would find her.

With barely a whisper of sound, Caitlyn glided toward the door, her form slipping between the shadows, unseen. She felt the surge of power in her limbs, her senses razor-sharp, as if every step taken had purpose. Her heart beat with a mixture of fury and a twisted kind of desire for retribution. She wasn’t sure what she intended to do, but she knew she had to confront this woman. She had to destroy the presence of her that lingered between her and Vi.

Inside the cabin, the air was thick and heavy. It smelled of wood, dust, and something faintly metallic—another trace of the hunter’s scent. Caitlyn crept through the darkness, her eyes flicking to every corner, every shadow, searching for her target. Every creak of the floorboards beneath her feet seemed to vibrate with the tension in the room.

Her anger was palpable, and yet, her patience was unnerving. She moved slowly, deliberately, letting the weight of the silence settle around her. There was no sign of the woman, though the scent still lingered in the air like a taunting whisper.

Caitlyn’s fangs gleamed in the dim light as her anger began to surface again. She had come here for a reason, and that reason was slipping away from her. Her eyes narrowed, and she tossed a stool violently across the room, the sound of splintering wood filling the cabin with a burst of frustration. The chair crashed into the wall, pieces flying across the floor.

She stood still for a moment, trying to gather herself. Her fists clenched, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Stay calm, she told herself. Stay focused. But then, another scent reached her. Faint, unfamiliar, and burning with a rancid sharpness. She froze, her nose twitching as the stench infiltrated her senses. She’d never smelled anything like it before—nothing that was so wrong.

The smell was sour and sickly, an overpowering chemical stench that clawed at her insides. Her stomach twisted as she followed the scent, almost involuntarily, toward a small cloth lying discarded near the hearth. Without thinking, she grabbed it, bringing it to her face.

The moment the cloth touched her nose, the burning sensation hit her like a blast of heat. Her eyes watered, her skin prickling in agony as her mind reeled. The putrid stench burned through her nostrils, the sensation sharp enough to make her gag. Her fangs snapped instinctively, and she threw the cloth away with force, her breath coming out in sharp, frustrated gasps.

“What the hell is that?” she hissed, her voice strained, as she wiped her nose furiously with the back of her hand. The sensation lingered, nauseating and strange, almost as if it were meant to incapacitate her, to stop her from using her powers. Was this a trap? She felt her chest tighten, the air feeling thicker in her lungs.

With a growl, Caitlyn turned to leave, her mind racing. She had to keep searching, had to find the woman. But just as she moved toward the door, she felt a sudden, overwhelming pressure settle over her chest, crushing her breath. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell to the floor with a heavy thud, her body unable to function. Her vision blurred as her head spun, disoriented and weak.

“W-What is happening?” she gasped, trying to push herself up, but her limbs wouldn’t obey. The air felt thick, pressing against her chest like an invisible weight. She strained, her body shaking, trying to summon her strength—but it was no use.

Then came the sound of soft clapping.

Caitlyn’s head snapped toward the doorway, her eyes wide with disbelief. You stood there, leaning casually against the frame, your smile almost kind, yet chilling in its sincerity. There was something deeply unsettling about your expression, something cold in your amusement. You took a few steps forward, your eyes gleaming with a quiet triumph.

“Well, well,” you said, your voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Congratulations, Caitlyn. You fell for it so easily.”

Caitlyn’s breath caught in her throat, and she tried to move, to rush at you. But her legs couldn’t hold her. She collapsed, her body crumpling like a ragdoll onto the floor. Her teeth gritted together, frustration bubbling up, her mind screaming at her to fight.

“What did you do to me?” she demanded, her voice strained, weak.

You stepped closer, your expression shifting into something more predatory as you looked down at her. “Oh, it’s simple,” you replied coolly, “Just a little concoction I brewed—specifically for your kind. A sedative, really. Only a small dose is necessary, but you took in more than your share, didn’t you?” You tilted your head, eyes gleaming. “Your powers? Useless now. And I’d say you’ll be out for longer than I intended.”

Caitlyn’s vision flickered, her heart hammering in her chest, but she couldn’t fight it. Her head sagged to the floor, her limbs too heavy to move. The last thing she saw before her world went dark was your smirking face.

“Sleep well, Caitlyn,” you whispered softly as the shadows closed in around her. “I’ll be seeing you again.”

..

Caitlyn groggily stirred from the haze that clouded her mind, her body feeling like dead weight. Her chest heaved with shallow, uneven breaths, each one feeling heavier than the last. She tried to move, but her limbs felt like they were filled with lead, and a deep pressure weighed down on her chest. Panic began to set in, and she tried to shake it off, blinking hard to clear her vision.

As her focus sharpened, the fog of sleep lifting, Caitlyn quickly became aware of the painful truth of her situation. Her hands were chained behind her back, the metal digging into her wrists, and around her neck was a cold, unyielding collar—its presence as constricting as the fear that coiled in her stomach. She tried to pull at the chains, her muscles straining with effort, but no matter how hard she tugged, they wouldn’t give. Her strength—her unnatural, monstrous strength—was completely gone. The weight of the sedative still held her down, and the familiar hum of her powers was nonexistent, leaving her frustrated, helpless.

“Dammit,” she muttered, a low growl forming in her chest as her fangs scraped against her lip. Her vision blurred again, but she pushed it back, glaring at the darkened room in defiance. She would get out of this. She had to.

Suddenly, the soft sound of running water interrupted her thoughts, and Caitlyn’s eyes flickered toward the bathroom door. Through her half-blurred vision, she saw you step into the room, drying your hands casually with a towel, completely at ease as if nothing had happened. The sight of you—of your smug expression—made Caitlyn’s blood boil. Her eyes locked onto yours, and a fire of rage sparked in her chest, driving her forward despite the chains that held her in place.

“Let me out!” Caitlyn growled, her voice laced with venom. She bared her fangs at you, trying to rise from the floor despite the heavy chains that kept her tethered to the ground. “If you don’t let me go right now, the Kirammans will hunt you down and rip you apart! You’ll wish you’d never crossed me, or Vi for that matter.”

You paused, glancing over at her with an almost amused smirk, your eyes glinting in the dim light of the cabin. “The Kirammans, huh?” you said, your tone mocking, laced with humor. “Let me guess, your father’s Tobias, right? A half-breed who’s not even considered a true vampire by your kind?” You shook your head, unfazed by her threats. “And your dear mother, Cassandra? From what I’ve heard, she’s little more than a passive beast, unskilled in any real combat. She might be a threat in her own way, but it’s easier to deal with her than it is to tie a knot.”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched at the mention of her family. She hated hearing you talk about them in such a dismissive tone, as if they were beneath her. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way you talked so casually about their deaths, as if it were nothing more than a simple inconvenience.

“You think I can’t kill you?” Caitlyn hissed, her eyes narrowing with suspicion and growing fury. “You think you can just walk away after what you’ve done? You have no idea who I am, or who my family is. They’ll track you down. They’ll feast on your bones.”

You chuckled darkly, stepping forward and running a finger through your hair, your eyes still glimmering with amusement. “Caitlyn,” you cooed, mocking the seriousness in her voice. “I’m not worried about your family. You may be powerful and quite influential but even then, it’s still not enough.”

Caitlyn’s stomach twisted with fury at your words. The rage in her eyes intensified, her fangs visible as she snapped her teeth, but she couldn’t move—not with the chains holding her in place, not with the lingering effects of the sedative weighing down her limbs.

“Shut up,” she snapped, her voice tinged with anger. “What the hell do you want with me?”

You tilted your head and flashed her a wicked smirk, clearly enjoying the tension in the air. “I’m guessing you have an idea, don’t you?” you asked, your voice a teasing drawl. “I’m the woman who was with Vi. She and I go way back.” You let out a soft, almost wistful laugh. “Vi’s still the same beast I remember. Still a creature of instinct, wild, untamed… and I enjoyed my time with her, believe me.”

Caitlyn’s eyes flashed with a fury unlike any other, her breath quickening as her chest tightened. “You,” she growled, her teeth flashing like knives in the dark, “you think that means something? You think I give a damn about your time with her?”

Her anger bubbled over, the heat of it suffocating her rational thoughts. You knew exactly what to say to provoke her, to make her want to tear you apart. And somehow, that only made her want to fight more, even if her body wasn’t cooperating.

Her breath came in sharp bursts, her fangs gleaming in the low light, and her eyes flared with an intensity that burned like fire. She was desperate to lash out, but she was trapped—physically, emotionally, and now… mentally. You had her where you wanted her.

“So tell me,” you said, your voice still light and playful, “What are you going to do now? You’re just a pretty little vampire with no fangs, Caitlyn. What will you do when the Kirammans can’t save you?”

Caitlyn’s mouth was dry, and her chest tightened with a mixture of fury and helplessness. She knew what she wanted to say, but it didn’t matter. In the end, she was at your mercy. And right now, it felt like she had none.

Her jaw tightened, her fangs gleaming as she glared daggers at you. But there was something in her eyes—a flicker of uncertainty, of doubt. You had struck a nerve, and you knew it.

You sauntered closer to her, picking up a knife from the nearby table. The blade gleamed in the dim light as you turned it over in your hand, inspecting it casually. Caitlyn puffed out her chest, her glare unwavering as she spat, “If you’re going to kill me, then get it over with.”

You stopped in front of her, letting out a low laugh. “Kill you?” you said, tilting your head. “Oh, Caitlyn, I’m not here to kill you.”

With a deliberate motion, you pressed the edge of the blade against your arm, dragging it just enough to draw blood. A small bead of crimson welled up, sliding down your skin. Caitlyn’s nose twitched immediately, her sharp senses honing in on the scent. Her body stiffened, her breathing growing heavier as the intoxicating aroma of your blood filled the air.

Her composure began to crack. Her glowing eyes darted between your arm and your face, her chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. She tried to fight it, to keep control, but the hunger was too strong, too overwhelming. Her fangs ached, her entire body screaming for her to take what she needed.

“You want a taste, don’t you?” you asked, your voice smooth and teasing. You held your arm out slightly, just close enough to tempt her further. “If you behave, maybe I’ll let you have some.”

Caitlyn clenched her jaw, trying to summon the strength to resist, but her body betrayed her. Her chest heaved, her fangs lengthened, and her eyes were locked onto the blood dripping from your arm. The scent was overwhelming, consuming her thoughts and instincts.

“Screw yourself,” she hissed, though her voice wavered. “When I get out of these chains, I’ll tear you apart.”

You smirked, leaning in closer. “Oh, Vi said the same thing,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “But we both know how that turned out, don’t we?”

Caitlyn’s eyes burned with fury at the mention of Vi, but her focus was slipping. You raised your wrist to your lips, deliberately licking the blood that had pooled there. The scent grew stronger, more potent, and it sent Caitlyn over the edge. Her eyes darted between your wrist and your mouth, her beastly instincts taking over as her breathing grew more erratic.

You leaned in, your voice low and mocking. “Come on, Caitlyn. I know you want it. Stop fighting and just give in.”

Her resolve shattered. The hunger, the intoxicating pull of your blood, was too much. Caitlyn’s fangs glinted in the dim light as she lunged forward, sinking them into your arm with a growl. The moment her teeth pierced your skin, she was consumed by the rush. The warmth, the taste—it was euphoric, electrifying. Every drop of blood that filled her was like a drug, intoxicating her senses and drowning out everything else.

Her fangs buried deeper into your arm as she fed, her entire body trembling with the intensity of it. She was lost, completely consumed by the moment, her mind clouded with the pleasure of it. Nothing else mattered—not the chains, not the collar, not even you. All that existed was the blood, the power it gave her, and the hunger it satisfied.

You watched her with a wicked smile, your amusement only growing as she surrendered completely. “That’s it,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over her labored breaths. “Good girl.”

The air in the cellar is thick, heavy with the scent of blood. Caitlyn’s fangs are deeply embedded in your arm, her body trembling with the power of the feed, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she drinks from you. Her hands, bound behind her, are flexing and straining in vain against the chains, and her eyes—glowing with hunger—are fixed on you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

For a moment, you allow her to drink, watching the way her body responds to the rush, to the sweetness of your blood, to the way it’s driving her wild. But then, as her greed deepens, you know it’s time to pull back. She’s already too far gone, teetering on the edge of losing herself entirely.

You take a deep breath, then grab her by the back of the head, trying to pull her away with a firm, swift motion.

Caitlyn’s body fights against you, but her desperation makes her stronger. Her growl is low and guttural, a desperate, animalistic sound that reverberates through the room. She tries to push forward, her fangs still embedded in your skin, but you press her back, your grip tight, controlling.

“Enough,” you hiss, your voice sharp as you try to force her away. Her hands claw behind her back uselessly, her body rigid with frustration, the hunger burning in her eyes.

But Caitlyn’s not done. She’s feral now, completely consumed by the desire, the need to feed, to drain you dry. She makes a guttural noise, barely human, as her head snaps forward, trying to latch deeper into your arm.

“Greedy little vampire,” you grimaced, grabbing her by the jaw with one hand, physically prying her mouth open, trying to remove her fangs from your flesh. The pressure of her bite is sharp, the sensation of her fangs digging into your skin maddening, but you don’t flinch. You can’t.

You wrenched your arm back suddenly, breaking the connection and taking a step out of Caitlyn’s reach. Her head snapped up, her glowing eyes wild and ravenous as she instinctively lunged forward, but the chains yanked her back. A growl rumbled low in her throat, guttural and animalistic, as she strained against her restraints, her fangs bared and dripping with crimson.

“Easy there,” you teased, holding up your arm just out of her reach, blood still oozing from the shallow wound. “You don’t want to get too greedy, now, do you?”

Caitlyn’s chest heaved, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she fought to regain control of herself. But she was too far gone, her mind overtaken by the intoxicating taste of your blood. Her lips parted, a desperate sound escaping her as she leaned forward, straining against the cuffs that held her in place. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to have more, to sink her fangs into you again and drain you dry.

“You’re pathetic,” you said, your tone dripping with mockery. “Look at you—completely feral. Is this the mighty Kiramman I’ve heard so much about? Or just a starving little beast who can’t control herself?”

She snarled at you, a wordless sound of fury and hunger, but there was no mistaking the desperation in her eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, her body trembling as the scent of your blood still hung thick in the air. She lunged again, only for the chains to snap her back into place, her head bowing as she let out a frustrated growl.

“You really are hopeless,” you continued, stepping closer with an infuriating smirk on your lips. “So much for all that high-and-mighty vampire pride, huh? One little taste, and you’re already begging for more.”

“I’m not begging,” Caitlyn hissed, though her voice was hoarse, trembling with the effort of holding herself back. Her glowing eyes darted to your arm again, her fangs aching with the need to sink into flesh, but she grit her teeth, forcing herself to look away. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“Oh, really?” You raised an eyebrow, your smirk deepening as you stepped even closer, letting the scent of your blood flood her senses again. She flinched, her head snapping back toward you despite herself, her body betraying the resolve she was trying so desperately to cling to. “Your body says otherwise.”

Caitlyn growled low in her throat, her fangs glinting as she glared up at you, but the wildness in her eyes betrayed her. She tried to speak, to retort, but the hunger clawing at her insides had stolen her voice. Her gaze flicked between your face and your arm, every breath she took pulling more of that intoxicating scent into her lungs.

You tilted your head, watching her with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “It’s almost adorable,” you murmured, your voice soft but cutting. “You’re trying so hard to fight it. But you and I both know you’re losing.”

She snarled again, her body tensing as she fought against the chains, but it was clear she was at her limit. Her glowing eyes burned with rage and hunger, her lips pulling back in a feral sneer as she tried to snap at you despite the distance between you.

“See?” you said, stepping back with a laugh. “Completely feral.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her mind was consumed by the need, the hunger, the overwhelming scent of your blood that still lingered in the air. Her body trembled, her fangs bared as she stared at you like a predator stalking its prey, but the chains held her firmly in place.

“You really are something else, Kiramman,” you said, your voice laced with mockery as you finally turned away, heading toward the table to grab a rag to wipe the blood from your arm. “I think I might just keep you around a little longer. Watching you squirm like this is far too entertaining to give up just yet.”

Caitlyn strains against the cold metal of her restraints, her vampire strength useless against the unyielding chains. She glares up at you balefully, her crimson eyes glowing with barely suppressed rage. "Let me out!" She snarls, baring her fangs at you menacingly.

Her threats are empty, her fear pungent on the air. You smile at her, a slow, predatory curve of your lips. "I think what you mean to say," you murmur, crouching down to meet her eyes, "Is please. Please, may I have some blood?"

Caitlyn's eyes widen, a look of shock crossing her features. "Wh...what?"

You chuckle darkly, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from her face. "Come now, Caitlyn. We both know that's what you really want."

You lean in close, your lips brushing her ear as you whisper your next words. "To be fed, to be dominated, to be owned completely." Caitlyn shivers, a small, involuntary sound escaping her throat. She tries to pull away from you, but the chains binding her are unyielding.

"I don't...I won't..."Her protests are weak, her resistance crumbling under your hungry gaze.

"You will," you assure her, your voice a low purr of dominance. "Because I know how much you need it. How much you crave it." You trail your fingers down her neck, over the pounding pulse of her jugular.

"Your body knows what it wants, even if your mouth won't admit it."

You press a slow, deliberate kiss to her exposed throat, your tongue laving the pale skin. Caitlyn gasps, her head tipping back to bare more of herself to you. You can feel her trembling, the vibrations traveling up your lips to your bones.

"Pleasure," you murmur against her flesh. "That's all this is. Simple, primal pleasure." Your words, spoken low and seductive, are almost inaudible. But you know she can hear them, can feel them vibrating in her very soul.

You know she's close to breaking, to submitting to the desire you've kindled within her. "Just say the words, Caitlyn." Another kiss, another brush of lips and fang. "Beg for what you need."

Caitlyn's pride wars with her desperation, her need for sustenance battling with her stubborn will. She's been fighting you, struggling against your hold, determined not to give you the satisfaction of hearing her beg. But the longer you tease her, the weaker her resolve grows. Her body screams for what you're offering, craves the life-giving blood pumping through your veins.

"Please," she finally gasps, the word torn from her throat against her better judgement. "Please, I need..." she breaks off, swallowing hard. Her eyes, when they meet yours, are pools of scarlet desperation.

"I need you," she whispers, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. "Please. I need your blood."

You smile, a slow, predatory curl of your lips. "That's it," you murmur approvingly, running your fingers through her hair. "Good girl." Caitlyn leans into your touch, her eyes slipping closed as she savors the praise.

You can feel her hunger beating at you, a physical ache in the space between you. But you ignore it for now, focused on her capitulation. Youtrail your fingers down to the chains, snapping your fingers sharply. "On your knees," you command, your voice leaving no room for argument.

Caitlyn immediately complies, the metal of her restraints clinking as she drops to the floor before you. She gazes up at you adoringly, her head bowed submissively. "Now," you purr, "Open your mouth."

You release your throbbing clit from the tight rubber band, the action making you hiss as the cool air hits your sensitive flesh. The pleasure almost painfully intense after such prolonged stimulation. Caitlyn gazes up at you, her eyes hooded and dark with lust. "Please," she rasps, "I need to taste you."

Without waiting for permission, she dives forward, her hot mouth engulfing your aching sex. Your eyes roll back in your head at the first swipe of her tongue, a low moan tumbling from your lips as she devours you. Her mouth is magic on your skin, licking and suckling at your pussy as if she's starving for the taste of you. You can feel her fangs grazing your tender flesh and it only heightens your pleasure, the slight pain mixing with the ecstasy until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins.

Caitlyn moans against your core, the vibrations adding to your pleasure as she feasts on your juices. You thread your fingers through her hair, holding her close as you grind your hips against her face. "That's it," you pant, "Take what you need, my good little vampire slut." She whimpers at your filthy praise, doubling her efforts. Her tongue delves deep, lapping at your inner walls, before moving up to circle your throbbing clit. You're close, so close, your thighs starting to tremble with the force of your impending release.

"Don't stop,” you demand, your voice strained. "Don't you dare fucking stop," Caitlyn growls in response, the sound sending delicious vibrations through your core. She redoubles her efforts, alternating between suckling hard on your clit and plunging her tongue as deep inside you as she can reach.

Caitlyn sucks your clit into her mouth with single-minded greed, her tongue working feverishly over the bundle of nerves. You can feel her fangs grazing your sensitive flesh and it only serves to heighten your pleasure, sending electric thrills shooting up your spine. Her hunger is a living thing, palpable in the air around you, in the desperate way she's devouring your cunt like a woman starved.

You know she could take you, could bite down and fill her mouth with your essence, but she holds herself back. You can see her muscles trembling with the effort of restraint, hear her teeth grinding against each other as she fights her darker impulses. It's a testament to her obedience, her complete submission to your will. And it only serves to turn you on more, to push you higher.

Your orgasm crashes into you with the force of a tsunami, your back bowing as pleasure wracks through you in intense waves. You moan, a high, keening sound that echoes off the walls as your pussy clamps down hard. Your juices gush out to flood Caitlyn's greedy mouth, and she swallows every drop, not spilling a single precious bit of your essence. Through the haze of your climax, you can feel her pressing closer, her nose grinding into your clit as she prolongs your ecstasy. But she doesn't stop at one, doesn't give you a chance to come down from your high.

She continues to eat you through the aftershocks, her tongue dipping into your still-fluttering hole as if to catch any stray drops. You writhe against her, your hips bucking uncontrollably as she wrings every last tremor from your spent body.

Caitlyn snarls in frustration as you pull her mouth away from your aching core, her fangs bared in a feral grimace. She strains against the chains holding her hands behind her back, trying to buck her hips forward to regain the friction you denied her. But you keep a firm grip on her head, holding her in place as you watch her writhe beneath you.

"P-Please," she whines, her voice high and needy, "I need...I need more." You just smirk down at her, reveling in the desperation radiating from her body. You know you have her now, completely at your mercy. A simple no from you, and you could leave her aching and unsatisfied, her hunger a constant throb between her thighs.

But that's not what you want.

You kneel down, throwing Caitlyn's legs over your shoulders with a predatory growl. She gasps, her eyes widening as you settle between her thighs. Your hair brushes against the sensitive skin of her inner legs, making her shudder.

"Please," she begs, the word a broken moan, "Please, I can't stand it." You lean in, inhaling deeply, savoring the rich musk of her arousal.

"You beg so pretty," you murmur, your breath hot against her weeping slit, "But I don't think you've suffered enough yet." With a wicked grin, you run the flat of your tongue up her pussy, licking a slow stripe from her entrance to her throbbing clit. Caitlyn cries out, her hips jerking as if hit by lightning, but the chains hold her firmly in place.

You take your time, lapping at her folds like a cat lapping cream, coating your tongue in her sweet, tangy essence. Caitlyn thrashes beneath you, her body twisting and writhing as if trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure. But there is no escape, no respite from your relentless ministrations. You dip the tip of your tongue into her tight hole, fucking her with shallow strokes. She bucks against your face, trying to take you deeper, to drive herself onto your invading muscle. But you won't allow it. You keep the thrusts light, teasing, prolonging her torment.

You move higher, swirling your tongue around her clit in lazy circles that gradually tighten in spiral. Caitlyn keens, her voice ragged as she chants mindlessly, "Pleasepleasepleaseplease..." You can feel her start to throb against your lips, her climax hovering just out of reach.

You can feel her start to throb against your lips, her climax hovering just out of reach. With a wicked grin, you slowly plunge one finger into her tight, clinging heat. Caitlyn bucks wildly, a broken moan escaping her throat. "Fuck!" she gasps, her hips rocking frantically to try and take your teasing finger deeper.

You keep your touch light, pumping your finger in and out of her in excruciatingly shallow strokes. She's so close, trembling on the precipice of oblivion, but you hold her back by a thread, denying her the final push she needs. Leaning forward, you ghost your lips over her drenched folds, your warm breath making her muscles clench and flutter. "What do you want, Caitlyn?" you ask, your tone deceptively mild. "Do you want me back in your pussy?"

“Fuck, yes…!”

At her answer, you seal your lips around her clit and suck hard, piercing your tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves. At the same time, you curl your finger inside her, stroking along the rippling walls of her sheath in a come-hither motion. Caitlyn moans, her body going rigid as her orgasm slams into her like a freight train. Her back bows, every muscle in her body pulling taut with the force of her release.

You work her through it mercilessly, pumping your finger and flicking your tongue against her spasming flesh, coaxing every last tremor from her spent body. Only when the rippling of her walls starts to slow do you ease off, gentling your touches to bring her back down from the dizzying heights of ecstasy.

You kiss her, your tongues tangling languidly as you share her taste. She moans into your mouth, her kiss as desperate as a drowning woman seeking air. You pull back, trailing your lips over her cheekbone and down to her ear.

"You did so well, my vampire," you murmur, your voice a low, approving rumble. "So eager, so responsive." You nip at her earlobe before soothing the sting with your tongue. Caitlyn shivers, a full body tremble that makes your still-buried finger clench inside her.

"More," she begs, the word a breathless gasp against your skin. "Please, I need more."

"You want more blood, or you want more of me?" you ask, already knowing the answer. Your little vampire is insatiable, always greedy for more. Whether it's the crimson nectar of life pumping through your veins, or your body bringing her to heights of ecstasy she's never known, she craves both like a drug. And you're more than happy to oblige, to feed and fuck her until she's a boneless heap of satiation.

Caitlyn's choice is the same, her voice a wanton moan that hangs heavy on the air. "Both! God, please, I need it all. Need-you." Her desperate plea is like the sweetest music, stoking your own desires into a raging inferno. With a final, searing kiss, you rise and saunter over to the table, the chains of her restraints clinking with every step.

You take your time putting on the harness, adjusting the straps so the dildo stands proud and ready. The latex feels cool and clingy against your skin, a sensual contrast to the heat building in your core as you picture burying the thick cock deep in Caitlyn's waiting heat. You turn back to your vampire, your eyes glinting with predatory hunger as they rake over her bound form. The sight of her like this, chained and open and so utterly at your mercy, sends a fresh flood of arousal straight to your pussy, making the toy bob enticingly.

You stalk toward her slowly, savoring the way her eyes dilate and her tongue swipes over her bottom lip as you approach. Stopping just out of reach, you trail the tip of the dildo up the inside of her thigh, watching her muscles jump and twitch under your touch.

"I'm gonna fuck you," you purr, your words sending a shiver down Caitlyn's spine. "I'm gonna go so hard, so deep, you'll forget your own name." You punctuate your promise with a teasing swirl of the cock around her dripping pussy, coating the head in her slick arousal. Caitlyn whimpers, her hips canting forward in a desperate attempt to gain more friction. But you pull back at the last second, grinning at her frustrated growl.

"Beg for it," you demand, your voice a low, seductive rumble. "Beg me to ruin this needy pussy."

Caitlyn's pride wars with her lust, her stubbornness battling with the aching emptiness in her core. But you can see the exact moment when desire wins out, when she gives herself over completely to the need pulsing between her thighs.

"Please," she gasps, her voice ragged and rough. "Please, I need your cock. Need you to fill me up, fuck me full until I can't tell where you end and I begin. I need it so bad. I'm begging you. Fuck me. Ruin me." Her words are music to your ears, your little slut so far gone she's practically babbling.

With a predatory growl of approval, you line up the head of the dildo with her entrance and surge forward, sheathing yourself to the hilt in one hard thrust. Caitlyn howls, her back bowing as she's split open on the thick cock.

You set a punishing pace from the start, your hips snapping forward in hard, deep strokes that hit her cervix with every pass. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoes off the walls, mingling with Caitlyn's wanton cries and desperate pleas for more. You can feel her tightening around you, her muscles clenching and fluttering as she nears her peak.

But you know she needs more to push her over the edge. Plunging your hand between her body, you find her clit, the engorged bundle of nerves slick with her arousal. You rub tight circles over it, feeling it throb beneath your fingers. "Fuck," you curse, your voice a low rasp as you continue your brutal pace.

You continue pistoning into Caitlyn, your pace relentless as you drive her towards the edge. Suddenly, you lean down, your lips brushing the shell of her ear as you coo teasingly, "You're so loud, Caitlyn. Are you this loud when it comes to you and Vi, your little werewolf girlfriend, fucking each other senseless in your bed?"

She cries out, her inner walls clenching around you, the mention of her lover both shameful and shamefully arousing.

You chuckle darkly, nipping at her earlobe. "Vampires and werewolves shouldn't be sharing the same bed, should they? And yet, there’s you two." You punctuate your words with a particularly brutal thrust, burying yourself to the hilt in her sopping cunt. "Or is it that you just can't help yourself, even after all this time? I know I certainly can't."

You can feel Caitlyn starting to tighten around you, her orgasm building at the base of her spine. But you hold her back, keeping your thrusts shallow and teasing even as the need to pound into her grows. Not until you've had your fill of tormenting her with memories of your lover. "Vi was so good," you croon, your lips brushing her cheekbone as you speak.

"So obedient, so eager to please." You press a line of biting kisses down the column of her throat, your teeth scraping lightly over her racing pulse. "She loved it when I fucked myself on her cock. Would moan so sweetly as I rode her hard and fast." Your thrusts speed up, mimicking the frenzied rhythm you used on your wolf. "But in the end, it was her who tapped out first. Even with all that lycan stamina, she couldn't last."

You grin wickedly as Caitlyn's pussy clench around your dildo, her body's response to your taunting words. "And if you and Vi just ever played nice," you purr, punctuating your words with a sharp snap of your hips, "I might just let you both fuck me as hard as you want, as often as you want."

You can almost picture it, the vampire and werewolf girlfriends rutting into you from either side, your body stretched and full and flying high on the dual pleasure. But that's a fantasy for another day. "But first, my sweet little Caitlyn," you growl, your cock plunging deep one last time before stilling, "You're going to come. Now."

You redouble your efforts, pounding into Caitlyn with wild abandon as you chase your own climax. Her scream of ecstasy mixes with the wet slap of skin on skin, the sound echoing off the walls. But you're not done with her yet. You want to give her everything, to let her sate her hunger on more than just your cock.

"Caitlyn," you pant, your voice strained, "Bite me. Drink." You angle your head to the side, baring the vulnerable expanse of your throat. You can feel her falter, hear her whine of denial as she struggles against the chains holding her in place. But you won’t take no for an answer. Reaching out, you grasp her head in your hands, holding her in place as you grind your hips against her oversensitive flesh.

"Drink," you command, a note of desperation creeping into your tone.

With a groan of surrender, Caitlyn sinks her fangs into your neck, her bite sharp and painful and so fucking perfect. You moan out, the pain of her bite mixing with the pleasure of her spasming cunt, driving you higher and higher until you can't tell where one ends and the other begins. Your blood flows hot over her tongue, rich and thick and laced with the coppery tang of passion. She drinks deep, gulping greedily as if she's been starved, her throat working to swallow every drop of your life's essence.

You come with a shout, your vision going white as your climax crashes into you like a tidal wave. Your hips jerks and twitch against her, your release hitting you like a punch to the gut. Through the haze of your ecstasy, you can feel Caitlyn following you over the edge, her pussy clamping down hard as she cums.

You can feel Caitlyn start to come down from her high, her sips on your neck growing slow and languid as she floats in the afterglow of her release. Her body goes lax in your arms, her head lolling against your shoulder as she lets you cradle her close.

You smile, running soothing strokes down her back as you pepper soft kisses over her hair. "So good," you murmur against her temple, your voice rough with satiation, "My perfect vampire, so well-behaved." You nuzzle her, breathing in the heady scent of her satisfaction, of the musk of sex and blood that clings to her like an aphrodisiac.

"Shh, it's alright," you croon as she whimpers against your neck, her fangs finally releasing their grip on your flesh to lave the wound with her tongue. "I've got you."

..

Caitlyn buttoned up her shirt with shaking fingers, the post-orgasmic tremors still racing through her system. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitized, every brush of fabric against her flesh sending sparks skittering along her nerves.

She could feel your eyes on her as she tugged her pants into place, could sense the smug satisfaction radiating off you in waves. Probably still riding that high from marking her so thoroughly, making her his all over again. The thought sent a twinge of guilt spiking through her chest, a silent reminder of her responsibilities waiting for her at home, of the life she'd turned her back on to indulge in forbidden pleasures.

Caitlyn picked up her trench coat from the floor, shrugging it on with jerky, distracted movements. She avoided your gaze as she fumbled with the zipper, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of satiation and shame. "I should go," she said, her voice rough and raspy, the words sounding forced even to her own ears. "Vi will be wondering where I am." The mention of her lover's name sent a fresh wave of guilt washing over her, twisting uncomfortably in her gut.

She cast a glance at the clock, grimacing when she saw the late hour. She'd been gone for hours, longer than she'd intended. Vi would be frantic with worry, no doubt imagining all manner of horrors that had befallen her mate. And she would know as soon as she smelt the presence of the hunter on Caitlyn’s skin. The thought made Caitlyn's stomach churn, shame and self-loathing mingling in a sickening cocktail.

Turning back to face you, Caitlyn hesitated, suddenly unsure. She knew she shouldn't ask, shouldn't tempt fate or jinx the fragile understanding you'd reached. And yet the words slipped out before she could stop them, hanging heavy in the air between you. "Will I see you again?" Your answering smirk was slow and satisfied, your eyes glinting with wicked promise.

"Oh, my sweet vampire," you purred, taking a long drag on your cigarette before blowing the smoke in a leisurely stream towards the ceiling, "You have no idea how soon."

You gestured with your cigarette towards the door, your gaze never leaving hers. "Now go on, get out of here. Vi must be just dying for you." The smirk on your lips turned playful and taunting. "Bring her next time.I'm sure the three of us will have a blast."

You stubbed out your cigarette in the ashtray, grinding the amber into ashes. Before Caitlyn could turn away, you reached out and snagged her face in your hands with an unbreakable grip. Despite her own monstrous strength, she stumbled, her eyes flying wide as she found herself pulled flush against your chest. You kissed her hard and deep, plundering her mouth with a ferocity that stole the breath from her lungs. By the time you released her, she was breathless and reeling, clinging to your waist for support.

Only when her legs started to shake beneath her did you release her, keeping one steadying hand on her cheek as you steadied her focus on you. "If you ever need more," you murmured, your lips brushing her ear, "You know where to find me."

You know she'll come back, knows it as surely as you know your own name. Whether it's tomorrow or next week or a month from now, she'll be back in your bed, begging for you and craving your blood. It's only a matter of time before Vi finds out about your little arrangement, before the werewolf shows up again, eyes flared and fangs bared. But you're not afraid.

If anything, the thought sends a thrill of anticipation skittering down your spine. Wouldn't it be fun to have them tear you apart, their greed and lust clouding their minds and erasing their human senses?

There's always time for fun later.

[diejager]

Hello! I've been wanting to make a request like this for a while now as I've fallen back down the rabbit hole that is Bloodborne + the MonsterAU, and your writing is amazing! I have fallen in love with it! You are free to ignore this crazy request XD

What if during an incident at the base (could be Hunter bullied by recruits simply because Hunter sides more with monsters than with humans) and Hunter looses control, they all discover that Hunter is actually a monster too, though not exactly a natural monster or hybrid like the rest of the guys?

At first the monsters and hybrids of 141, Laswell, Los Vaqueros and KorTac believe Hunter is a werewolf but all of them are somewhat concerned and puzzled as to why they could never tell Hunter was a monster, plus the bestial form Hunter possesses is grotesque in appearance compared to the fantastical appearance of Soap's wolf. While Hunter is flattered to be considered a monster like them, she later explains that she is not a monster as such, but a Scourge Beast: a person infected with a plague that turns her into a beast. Hunter also explains that is never in control while in beast form and advises that if were to ever go in a killing spree, requests to be burned alive 👀.

Here are some references to what Hunter would look like lol:

Again feel free to ignore! XD

Plague Cw: blood and gore, bullying, anger issues, cannibalism, mutation, hate, tell me if I missed any.

Soap hadn’t expected you to growl, something so low and guttural —dangerous. The hair on the back of his neck rose high, his body tense as it reacted to your animalistic sound when some men approached you both with smug grins and cockily raised brows to raise hell between him and their pro-human thoughts. And it seemed that those men hadn’t expected you to act so aggressively, so beastly, after seeing you ignore their jeers and degrading words. They flinched back, fearful eyes fleeting from him to you, Soap’s eyes trailed down your shaking figure, hands clenching and unclenching with black claws, they were so sharp that it threatened to cut your hardened palms. 

“Fuck off,” you flashed sharp teeth, molars and incisors turned into an amalgamation of werewolf teeth, crooked and much sharper. 

Perhaps you weren’t truly a human, at least not fully with how vicious your expression looked like, a wretched image of your softer figure shaking and shuddering, trying to contain a beast that would ravage the frightened men before you. They scurried off when you curtly nodded to your left, shoving past some people that stood and stared at you and back into the base. He followed you closely, ears twitching at your growls and rumbling, teeth grinding together in an ear-piercing screech and heavy puffs of hot air from your nose. 

“What was that, Bonnie” Soap coaxed you into your room, frantic and concerned at your sudden shift of demeanour, “Ye okay?”

“Nothing. Nothing, Johnny,” you sighed, shoulders slumping when you sat on your bed, letting out shuddering breaths.

He sat beside you, giving you enough space but keeping a hand on your shoulder, circling your tense muscle. 

“ ‘m fine, Johnny, I swear,” you promised, blinking slowly at your retreating claws, “I’ll tell you later, hmm?”

Soap had warned them about your shift, the nagging curiosity that filled all their minds the day they heard from him that you weren’t human, neither monster nor hybrid, but the result of a plague —a sickness. He’d been with you during your shift, letting the others know before he turned too, his body burning away his amassed energy into steam and smoke. His change was strainous and energy-dependent, but yours was downright bloody and gory, your skin bubbling as dark fur grew from your raised spine, blood popping and spewing from every part of your body, staining the ground with dark and sickly and viscous blood. 

You were a crooked beast, limbs too bony and spine too sharp, your maw too elongated and teeth too misshaped. You were a feral mixture of beast and werewolf, horrible yet intimidating, something that rang hundreds of bells in his mind. You looked like a starved dog, abdomen caved in and hair course and dry, a terrible creature that ate through the enemy, sinking your teeth into their muscles and fat and devouring everything down in wet gulps and guttural rumbles. 

You made quick work of the enemy despite being their medic, striding back with him side to side (you towered over him in your beast form, a shock if he was honest). He wasn’t sure if their silence was from the sheer size of you, looming over everyone with white, beady eyes blinking owlishly at them or from your bloody and matted fur, guts and hair sticking between your teeth. He knew you were monstrous, but it sent a thrill up his spine.

“Was hungry,” he was sure he jolted when you spoke, a deep, deep growl from the back of your bony throat, it was gravelly and raspy, more so than Ghost or Prices, “Clean up when- back.”

He learned that you were a Scourge Beast, sometimes a permanent change and other times a temporary one that left you somewhat conscious. You might’ve been there, but never in complete control of your body, lingering at the back of your mind, a passenger of your hungry and rage-prone body. You warned them that you might go into a famished frenzy, ripping into anything and everything you could get your hands on, and if it were to every happen, they would need to contain you. Be it knocking you out or killing you, you made them swear, but Soap doubted he could do it, he couldn’t and wouldn’t do it despite how much you stress how dangerous you were.

They could be able to stop you without harming you, they’re conscious of both their weakness and strengths, but they knew, if it ever came to it, they will stop and contain you until you’re back to your sense. 

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